Disclaimer: I don't own these men. I can't find them on eBay. I make no money from this, but how awesome would life be if I made money from writing fic? Really awesome.

NOTE ON RATING CHANGE: Once Sean got in the shower, he really wanted to engage in some self-love. I told him not too, but he didn't pay attention and decided to masturbate anyway. So the rating is now M people. M for Masturbating Men (well, man). Side note to DrainBamage: Looky! I wrote some sex (well, self-sex. Closer than ever before)!

AN: I'm sorry it's been so long since my last post. I've got severe psoriasis and the pain makes it hard to concentrate. But Sean needs his angst time just as much as Norman. So here we go.

Thank you to my dear devoted readers who have commented. I am truly, truly sorry that I haven't replied to all y'all. I just want you to know that your encouragement makes me want to write more and more because that way you'll be happier and happier (or more and more angst-ridden, if you're reading this).

~PurpleRanger

Chapter Two: The Wonders of Alcohol and Loneliness

Sean rolls over in bed and looks at the clock. Great. 3:00. Just fucking peachy. He hasn't slept at all yet and doubts he will before he has to get to set. He had been relieved when he arrived yesterday and found out he was a day ahead of Norman, but today Norman is going to arrive and Sean is going to be miserable. Sean finds himself wishing he hadn't kept in contact with Helena. If he hadn't, he could pretend Norman is happy and well-adjusted. But he isn't and Sean knows it's his fault. God, he wishes he could take back everything he did, wishes he could go back five years to when he and Norman were happy together. More immediately, he wishes he could take back how much Jack Daniel's he drank in his hotel room earlier this evening. Not only will Troy kill him if he's badly hung over – or worse yet, still drunk – but he's currently a weepy, lonely drunk. At least no one can see him like this.

Sean barely notices when he's drunk now. Christ, he's been drinking a lot since he and Norman split. He knows it's bad and he should stop, but every time he tries he just dwells on how empty his life is. Well, he does that when he's drunk too, but the pain is duller once enough alcohol hits his system. Yes, Sean Patrick Flanery is a minor alcoholic, and no, you don't need to tell hi. He glances at the bottle of whiskey next to the clock and decides that one more sip can't make anything worse than it already is. So he takes a few gulps and turns on the television. He can at least be an occupied drunk.

Everything on at 3:00 in the morning is either porn or trash. Sean settles on the latter. Any thoughts of sex when Norman is around are just a bad idea. The station he settles on is great for five minutes, but then it starts taking about celebrity couples. Could he and Norman have made it to the top celeb couples if he hadn't been an asshole? Would they be the gay, drama-free version of Brangelina if Sean had dealt with his anger without acting like a vengeful child? Shit, even after he had treated Norman like shit Norman had been willing to try to go on. But Sean hadn't been mature enough to deal with his anger and guilt, so he'd left what reminded him of what he'd done. He'd left the only man – the only person – he's ever loved.

He switches the channel when he realizes he's tearing up. He's god damn pathetic.

Aah, this is better. This movie has explosions. Sean tries to make himself zone out into the movie, but it doesn't work. He remembers how Norman always liked to cuddle up and watch ridiculous action movies. He had never thought of big explosions as romantic until Norman had spooned with him on the couch while watching Die Hard.

Tearing up again. Maybe this action movie isn't the best plan.

Sean turns off the television. It's 3:45 and he has made the executive decision of "fuck sleep" and now needs something to do. He casts his eyes around the hotel room until the come to rest on the open bathroom door. He can take a shower. Showering is a great time waster, because he can spend a really long time under the hot water. Sean heaves himself out of bed, the ground moving around a little due to all the whiskey from earlier. He peels off his boxers and walks to the bathroom. He turns on the shower to almost full heat. He stands there aimlessly for the minute it takes for the water to heat up.

Finally the water heats up, and Sean steps into the steaming shower. This was definitely a good plan. Showers always clear his head a bit when he's slightly drunk. He turns his face to the spray and stands for a minute or so. As much of an exercise and health freak as he is (well, except for the alcohol), he's always liked taking showers. And so did Norman. Whenever neither of them was rushed, they would shower together in the mornings.

Okay, he's beyond pathetic. Showering is making him mope and be depressed. This is getting out of hand. He needs a distraction before he goes on a crying jag like some pregnant woman.

Well, people usually shower in order to wash, so Sean picks up the bar of soap and decides to clean himself until he sparkles. He won't think of Norman at all. Well, except for just then. He rubs the bar in between his hands to get it nice and sudsy, and then starts rubbing it over himself. He washes his legs, then his arms, then his chest, and then… hey! He has thought of something to do!

Masturbation, Sean realizes, can solve any problem.

So he thinks about the only thing he thinks about to get off to: Norman Mark Reedus.* Seriously. Having sex with a girl? Closes his eyes and imagines how Norman's face looks as he rails him. Getting fucked by another guy? Closes his eyes and tries to hear Norman's dirty talk in his ears. Giving a blow job? Closes his eyes and pretends it's Norman's cock pushing into his mouth and Norman's voice panting and moaning at him. Yep, he's pretty damn obsessive.

So Sean slides a hand down his torso to grasp at his cock, already getting hard from thinking about Norman. A few short tugs and it's at full hardness, ready for Sean to pull away as his fantasizes.

He can't pretend that his hand is Norman's mouth or his hole, but he can imagine that Norman is watching him. Sean shuts his eyes and pictures Norman peeking around the doorway of the bathroom, trying not to let Sean see him. But Sean sees the imaginary Norman and decides to put on a bit of a show. He always has been a bit of an exhibitionist.

Sean moans loudly as he strokes himself slowly. In his mind's eye, Norman's breathing quickens as he reaches to undo his jeans. Sean speeds his hand up determinedly, wanting to give this fantasy Norman a damn good performance. A few pulls later, Sean's sexual frustration spurts out and coats the shower wall.

He feels pathetic again as he cleans himself and the wall off. Five years later, he still beats off to Norman. On the plus side, looking at his waterproof watch, he realizes that he's wasted a good thirty minutes cleaning up and wanking. Mission accomplished. Look at Sean: he sets goals and he meets them! He is so fucking great at life!

He bangs his head against the wall a few times for good measure before he turns the water off. Maybe he'll kill all the pathetic brain cells.

Or maybe he won't. That might take a brain-ectomy. He really is pretty damn pathetic. He honestly cannot emphasis that enough to himself. But isn't going to go whine about this to some dipshit psychologist. Real men don't talk about their feelings. Why? Because it's nobody's business!**

Without bothering to get dressed, Sean flops back down on his bed to check the television again. Aha, they are now playing Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He's from Texas, damn it! He's got a soft spot for Westerns. So he lies back to engross himself in the movie.

*

When the movie finishes, Sean watches the Weather Channel for a while, concentrating very hard on the rainfall expected in Kentucky. It is obviously very important how much rain is in Kentucky; the Weather Channel would never just talk about random shit. He flips through channels until he finds a "human interest" news story that isn't really news and will never affect anyone who isn't in said news story. He watches for an hour before getting dressed. It is time to go to set.

Sean says a silent prayer that God will smite him before he gets to set. It doesn't work, as He has not smote Sean by the time Sean pulls in to the lot and parks his car. His only hope now is that God will smite him before he sees the one man he can't bear to see if he can't have.

*Yes, his middle name is Mark, according to IMDB. Look at all the research that goes into the creation of my fic!

**I will be very proud of the first person to get that reference. The battle is on, my friends!

AN: This was my first time writing any sort of sex scene, however small. Please be nice. Pretty please leave reviews. Reviews make the world go round. Well, them and gravity. I love you all very much, and be prepared for angst-filled, awkward conversations through a very confused Troy Duffy.