Author's Note: So I went back and forth on this chapter. Had two versions of it written and ended up meshing the two. I wanted this to be a little lighter because there's plenty of angst yet to come.

The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed-Eminem

August 25, 2014

Seth was starting to feel like he was in over his head. For the past two days, Dean had been downright hostile. He'd snap at anything that was said. Any attempt to try to cajole him out of that mindset only resulted in him being given a death glare. Things got slammed down or kicked out of the way. There was indecipherable muttering under his breath as he moved around the apartment.

It wasn't like he had never encountered this kind of behavior from the dirty blonde before. Because he had. Many times through out the years since they met. Never for such an extended period of time when the dirty blonde considered him his brother though, like he did now due to his memory loss. Normally, the older man apologized a little while later but not this time.

He didn't bother to respond when he was being spoken to anymore. Just gave that unnerving death stare. Stormed off and locked himself in his room. Only came out if he had to eat or use the bathroom. Didn't even bother to answer his cell phone when Roman called to check in.

Which was concerning because that was a side to him that he never saw before.

Despite what Dean liked to say and what he portrayed on TV; he wasn't that dark, brooding crazy guy who spent the majority of his time being angry. Far from it. Not that there weren't times when he lost his temper, because there were. Hell, everyone had those moments. But for the most part he was a laid back, twitchy but fun loving jokester who was always talking, laughing or singing something ridiculous.

Unless you did something to provoke him, belittle him or betray him. Then all bets were off. That was when he let the lunatic come out to play. Once that happened, he derived nothing but enjoyment from breaking you mentally with mind games and physically with his fists. He didn't stop until he got the revenge he felt the situation warranted and his adversary was left with scars he'd carry for the rest of his life, be it psychological or bodily.

But he was never just silent.

That was why he was really starting to wonder if there was more to this than Dean just being angry at being sidelined with a concussion. More than him just being bored or upset that his usual routine was disrupted. That he had to have someone staying with him. Or that he had to follow doctor's orders.

Because this felt different than any simple case of misplaced anger. A lot different. Maybe he was starting to remember? It would make sense. Put a lot of that unusual behavior in context.

Seth wasn't ready for that to happen yet. He hadn't had enough time to make for all the stupid, selfish nasty things he had done. Not that he was sure he ever could. But he wanted to try at least. If the dirty blonde's memory was back then he'd lose his chance and it would be back to business as usual.

He knew that he was being selfish again. That he should want for Dean to recover as quickly as he could. To have his memory back. And he did. Just not until he had proved to his former brother that he was sorry for the things he did and made some progress in trying to repair their fractured bond.

The bedroom door opened and Dean emerged from it, eyes landing on the couch. A frown tugged at his lips as he made his way over and say down on the chair next to it, leg bouncing up and down. "Ok, let's get this over with."

He sat up, confused as hell at that command. "Get what over with?"

"I've been an asshole the past couple of days." It was stated bluntly, without hesitation. "I know it and you know it."

This was the opening he needed. If the other man was remembering then he needed to know as soon as possible. That way he could prepare himself for the inevitable fight that would take place. He didn't want to be caught sleeping when it happened. "Is there a reason for it?"

"I hate this." A hand raked through tousled curls. "Being confined here, not able to do anything, feeling fucking useless. It don't sit right with me. Brings up some bad shit in my head. Makes me a moody prick."

"I'm sorry."

Blue eyes rolled, "You don't got nothin' to apologize for. I've been taking my shitty mood out on you cause you're here. I know you told the doc that you'd stay with me but if you wanna leave, you can. I'll be fine on my own."

"I'm not leaving just because you're in a bad mood." He informed the dirty blonde, holding his gaze. "Have I ever let you push me away before?"

"No."

"I want to help you through this and I get that you hate talking about this kind of stuff. But holding it all in and letting it eat at you can't be good for your health right now." The words poured from him as he took his own advice. "That reading material the doctor gave said a lot of concussion patient's suffer from heightened emotions and mood swings during their recovery. If you're going through that, don't hide it from me. We're brothers and I want to help you anyway I can."

"I get it, I do." Dean took a deep breath. "It ain't an excuse but when you brought up the meds and kept pushing about it, it just felt like you didn't understand why I don't want em and that kind of set me off."

Seth blinked, "I understand why you didn't want them. I really do. But I just hate knowing that you're in so much pain and trying to deal with it without anything. If you really need them, I would do everything I could to make sure that they didn't become an issue for you."

"I know." There's a heavy sigh, "Just don't trust myself not to fuck up again."

"I think that you're underestimating yourself as usual." He leaned forward, making sure to keep eye contact. "You're not that messed up kid anymore Dean. Haven't been for a long time. You've fought like hell to build your life into what it is now. Scratched, clawed and fought every obstacle in your way to get here because you're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Ok," He ducks his head, blushing slightly. "Enough of this feel good shit. I'm need to eat cause I'm fucking starving."

Seth chuckles at that, deciding to test this cease fire. "Can't have you wasting away, your midsection is already freakishly tiny as it is."

"Ass." This time when he punches him in the arm, it's more like the playful jabs they used to exchange. It passed quickly though as the dirty blonde sobers. "We good?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." Dean must have gotten to his feet much too quickly for someone with a concussion should because he grimaced, fingers flying to his temples. "Fuck, when's it going to stop feeling like my head's gonna explode?"

"I know it's not easy but you got to slow down man." He chided mildly, not wanting to break the peace between them. "Go a little under the speed limit for once in your life."

An eyebrow rose, "I don't know how to."

That admission didn't surprise him at all. Ever since he met Dean, he'd known that the man lived his life with the pedal to the metal. Full speed ahead and no hesitation. It had driven him crazy when they were adversaries but had been one of the things that he came to admire about him once they were teammates. How no matter how tired or beaten down they were, he had the ability to just keep going and never slow down. Because sometimes you needed someone to pull you along with them so you didn't get run over.

But that was double edged sword. Especially now. When his mind and body needed him to slow down so it could recover. There was no way around it or to pretend that it didn't. That meant that they had to a find a balance between Dean's a hundred mile an hour energy and the doctor recommended twenty mile an hour crawl to allow him to recuperate.

The only thing that he'd ever witnessed work for the older man was when he was absorbed in a book. He'd be completely still and silent as he worked his way through the pages. The only problem with that was that reading was currently on the what not to do list. Too much mental stimulation the paperwork said. But maybe they could start small, comic strips in the newspaper or some light-hearted children's books.

A smile tugged at his lips as he imaged Dean critiquing Doctor Seuss. Because he just knew that there was no way that he wouldn't have some strong opinions about them. It would definitely be entertaining for them both. All he'd have to do was find a site to download them onto Dean's archaic laptop…

"You know, when you get quiet then start grinning like an idiot, it's fucking creepy."

The all too familiar rasp broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention back to the dirty blonde. "You ever read Doctor Seuss when you were a kid?"

"Yeah." There was a baffled expression on his face. "Why?"

"What did you think of his books?"

"That he was a fucked up on something when he wrote that shit and should never have made the Grinch a good guy in the end. Totally killed that fucking story for me."

Seth started laughing, not at all shocked by that statement. It was so Dean. Observant but skewed. A little cynical. "Only you would be disappointed that a children's author went with a happy ending."

"That book was leading up to the Grinch going crazy on that town for treating him the way it did then boom, cause of some little chick batting her eyes, he goes all soft and good guy. You just know a few months later that the little brat turned her back on him and started treating him like the rest of that town did." Dean ranted. "He should have gotten his revenge and been on his less than merry fucking way."

Ok, maybe he shouldn't download Doctor Seuss after all. Dean apparently got way too worked up about them. He might throw the computer at the wall or out the window if he read his stories again. That would definitely not be a good thing for his recovery. "Now I see why Roman objected when you offered to read his daughter a bedtime story when we used to crash there."

"Like I'd read her any of that mind-rotting, feel good, unrealistic garbage." He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'd have made one up cause you know I can tell a good story."

Yeah, he could. But he tended to get sidetracked, veer off into another story before he finally remembered to finish the first one. He just wasn't going to point that out. "Uh-huh."

"Huh, maybe that's what I should do when I decide to hang up my boots."

"Volunteer at the library during story time?" He was mentally cringing, thinking about Uncle Dean's story time and how many of those tales would involve the anti-hero stabbing the bad guys with a fork.

Blue eyes sparkled, "No, write books for kids. Like ones that are closer to fucking reality."

That prospect was even scarier. He hurriedly got to his feet, making his way into the kitchen. "Ok, so you said you were hungry! What do you feel like having for lunch?"

"You don't think I'd be good at that?" Dean followed behind him, a slight smirk on his face.

"I think it's too soon to be thinking about life after wrestling. We got too many good years ahead of us still." He said diplomatically, looking through the stocked fridge. "Plus, we both know that we're lifer's in this business."

"Yeah but it don't hurt to think about it."

That made him look at the dirty blonde, really look at him. "You worried about this?"

"A lot of guys can't come back from concussions." There was a shrug. "So I've been running things through my head the past couple of days. Just in case, you know?"

"You're going to recover completely and be back in that ring in no time." Because there was no way in hell that Seth could even contemplate that his stupidity could have ended the other man's career. "How about some grilled cheese?"

"Maybe I could be a commentator?" Dean either didn't hear the question or was ignoring it to get the thoughts out of his head. "I mean, I'm pretty good at runnin' my mouth and actually do know the names of moves unlike some of em. But I'd have to be the heel of the team cause I'd get too fucking bored of always having to praise people that I thought sucked."

It was obvious that he really wanted to talk about this. That he had to get this off his mind. So, he grabbed the stuff to make a grilled cheese and hummed in agreement, deciding to just go with it. "You'd be good at it, a lot better than what we got now."

"Feels like there's a but to that."

"I always kind of thought that you'd end up taking over promo class down at the performance center." He turned and gave the other man a grin in response to the bewildered stare he was getting. "By the time you hang up your boots, Dusty will probably be ready to retire. I could see you picking up where he left off and loving every minute of being the one to shape the next generation of mic masters."

"Nah, I actually don't like teaching much."

"What?" Seth turned his attention away from the sandwiches cooking on the new skillet he got and his eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

"I did it for a while." Dean lowered his gaze to the countertop in front of it, finger tracing the marbled pattern. "When I was getting clean and only working shows on the weekends, I took over training the hopefuls at the school that I trained at."

"You did?"

"Yeah and I mean, it was cool but not really my thing." A shrug followed that. "I ain't patient enough to deal with people who fuck up the simple shit or only want to use wrestling to get someplace else."

Seth flipped the sandwiches onto plates and thought about that. He could understand where the other man was coming from but he again, he felt like he was underestimating himself. Sliding one plate, across the counter, he shrugged. "Just don't rule it out completely. I think you could kill it."

"Course I'd kill it, no doubt about that." Dean tore into his sandwich as he poured them something to drink. "I just know that I'd end up chewing out an idiot for not knowing how to hold a mic and get my ass fired."

Something else occurred to him and he grinned, "You could be a mouthpiece for someone. Like Heyman for Brock."

Dean chewed thoughtfully then shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't just stand there at ringside and not get involved in the action." There was a pause. "How about you? Ever think about what you're gonna do when it's over?"

"Well, you know I've been working on starting a school soon. So I think I'll end up training the future generation when I decide call it a career." Seth considered the other options that were available. "Beside that, I'd probably become a road agent or producer."

"Yeah, I could see you doing that. You love all that organizational shit." The dirty blonde polished off his sandwich and sat back, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "But all this is years away, right?"

"It is," He made sure to catch those blue eyes. "For both of us."