I do not own Bates Motel.

But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.

Yeah, Whatever

Dumbass Superpower

He'd tried so hard at the time, to get Norma to see the danger in Norman.

The danger in protecting him at the cost of other possible innocents.

But she wouldn't.

And he hadn't been brave enough to turn them in himself.

Afraid of what it would do to Norma and Norman.

Emma.

And his chance to be with her.

And so, instead of stay and continue fighting a useless battle, he had taken his chance.

Taken hold of Emma's hand.

And run like hell to Seattle.

He had convinced himself it was over for him then, left behind in White Pine Bay.

But here it was again.

The entire life he had built here, the normal, average, peaceful life, on the verge of crumbling all over again.

Two years he and his crazy ass family had managed not to hurt Emma.

And now here she was, here they were, on the verge of being torn apart.

All because . . .

Shitshitshitshit-

. . . he had been too much of a coward to tell the truth.

Earring, earring, stupid earring.

He had been doing pretty okay in the hours since Emma had found the earring.

"Uhhh, wow, I can't believe I got extra sleep and only ran errands and I'm still tired."

"Oh, it's okay. Why don't you go get some rest and I'll take care of Katie?"

"Oh, thank you, Dylan. I'll set my alarm for an hour."

Sweet kiss.

"Make it two and I'll make some lunch. Spaghetti okay?"

"Sounds great."

Sweet kiss number two.

And now here he was.

Rocking bottles . . ."

"Oh, it's still hot, it's still hot . . ."

. . . and boiling water . . ."

Spaghetti in the water, not the baby. Spaghetti in the water, not the baby . . .

. . . way too distracted to be even thinking about . . .

"Multitasking got the best of you?"

Sweet smile from his kind, supportive wife.

. . . anything else.

No. Yeah.

And he thought he was okay.

It was even okay she was taking Katie out of his arms.

". . . both hands to make Mommy an amazing lunch."

Wellll . . .

". . . settle for edible."

'Cause, you know, me. I'm currently burning water.

". . . straight out of the box. I'm starving."

Ah, come on, Em. You shouldn't have to settle.

"You deserve better than that."

You deserve a husband who can at least make spaghetti.

"Dylan, come on. You're doing great. You're too hard on yourself."

It's just spaghetti, Em.

"It's gonna be okay."

Yeah, if I burn the pasta, we can just have sandwiches.

But Emma wasn't really talking about lunch anymore.

And Dylan knew it.

And she knew that he knew it.

"Can we talk about the earring?"

Even though he wished they were.

No. I do not want to talk about your maybe dead mother's earring.

But he turned around anyway.

He had no choice.

He wasn't deaf. And his wife knew it.

Dammit.

Muscles clenching up, mouth going dry, heart thudding like a heavy, thick, ill brick.

". . . earring for a reason . . ."

Yeah. Evidence. Stupidity.

". . . you say that door is closed . . ."

Yep.

". . . are no absolutes . . ."

Yes, there are. I absolutely love you and Katie. Norman's absolutely crazy and dangerous. My mother's absolutely nuts-

". . . consider reaching out to your mom . . ."

No.

This wasn't about his mom.

This was about her mom.

Her maybe dead mom.

But even if it were just about his mom, it was still a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad idea.

And he hated it.

I don't want to go back to the way I was before, always fighting against them and their shit.

I've come so far and I don't want to go back.

Do you want me to go back?

And anyways, the earring isn't about Norma, it's about your mom.

And I don't want to hurt you like that.

It's too big.

And I don't want you to hate me and you will.

I'll lose you and Katie.

And I don't want that.

So just back the hell off.

Norma is worst idea, almost as bad as Norman.

Just back the hell off.

But Emma Lillian Decody Massett never backed the hell off anything she didn't want to.

I mean, she found a manga book and followed it right to the end of that bastard Shelby.

And she had started this whole thing by inviting my mother-raping uncle-father into our home after two years of peace and quiet.

She never would have found the earring in the first place if she hadn't overridden Dylan and invited him in to their home.

He was certain.

It was stupid, illogical thinking.

But Dylan Massett was a stupid dumbass sometimes.

And he had already almost overboiled the water, made his hungry baby girl cry, covered up his half brother's possible homicidal tendencies, killed a man for his mother, found out his uncle was his dad, run over people with a dead buddy's truck . . .

It just never ends.

. . . and just that morning accidently stuck his finger . . .

Oh for f-

. . . in disgusting, smelling baby poop this morning.

Dammit.

It had been a rough twenty-five freaking years.

So what came next was unfortunate.

Rude.

Defensive.

Desperate.

And completely strategical.

As his beautiful rock of courage and bravery stood before him trying to talk to about reinstituting contact with his crazyass mother who enabled his crazyass brother who might or might not have done something to his wife's estranged mother, Dylan Massett let his fear control him . . .

Shitshitshitshit-

. . . and he mouthed off . . .

". . . superpower where you think you know what people want even if it's not what they say . . ."

Drop it.

Before it kills us.

". . . but it gets really old."

. . . and hurt his wife.

"Sometimes people do actually know what they want without you having to tell them."

She wasn't used to him speaking harshly to her, he never did.

But he had to stop her.

And I don't want Norma in my life, Emma.

Or Norman.

Or Caleb.

Or frickin' Audrey's earring.

I just want you and me and Katie.

". . . drop the Norma thing . . ."

But there he was.

" . . . that'd be great, okay?"

And there it was.

"Got it."

A little tear in her heart now that Dylan couldn't bear to see.

It's for her own good.

One that could probably be mended.

I'm protecting her.

Relatively easily.

So she never has to deal with what Norman might have done to her mom.

She left the room then with Katie.

And Dylan Massett turned away.

Pretended he hadn't just said all that bad shit to his beautiful, amazing wife that he loved so very much.

And wiped up the stove. Wanting to throw the stupid, freaking pasta pot . . .

Because I don't know for sure.

. . . right out the damn window.

Shit.

And of course the dumbass spaghetti tasted like crap.

*Flinch*

Oh Dylan, you dumbass. You're so human.

Well, you know, how it is sometimes. :(

Thanks to Lana Brown, you're such an appreciated reader!