Here is the second part for you all!
This is a mammoth chapter (4,000+ words) which I had a lot of fun writing, so hopefully you all have a lot of fun reading!
As always, if you have any comments, critiques, opinions or prompts, then please don't hesitate to leave a review below!
Enjoy!
The first time that Seth knew Dean Ambrose was going to irrevocably change his life was FCW.
Ever since Dean's debut, Seth had always felt himself drawn to the older man like a moth to a flame. There was something about that filthy mouth, spewing violent promises with that devilish grin on his lips. There was something about those stormy blue eyes that were backlit with a perverse confidence of someone with nothing left to lose. There was something about Dean's presence that demanded attention, cockiness and pain and aggression and trouble that thrummed through Dean's veins like blood.
It was magnetic.
The sweet burn of lust had settled deep in his gut.
And goddamn it, Seth was instantly hooked.
The first time they met in the ring was a moment of clarity for Seth.
He'd always known that Dean was a dangerous and unpredictable competitor; he'd seen the tapes of Dean in CZW. He'd seen how willingly Dean spilled his blood and put his body on the line. He'd seen just how sick and twisted Dean could be. Dean truly was a street dog, backed into a corner and fighting for his life with every match, not afraid to claw and bite and scratch and maim.
What Seth hadn't realised though was just how deadly Dean could be.
He was technically gifted, less refined than Seth was himself but gifted nonetheless. There was a physical strength that belied his lithe, almost gangly frame; he was small, leanly muscled, but could throw Seth around the ring with ease.
But most of all, there was an intensely fierce determination in the older man's eyes.
Eyes that blazed with frustration and anger when Seth kept kicking out of every pin.
Eyes that clouded over with pain and self-loathing when Seth managed to retain his FCW 15 championship.
Eyes that revealed the briefest flicker of emotion, of humanity.
Of weakness.
And the second that Seth saw it, he knew that he needed to see it again.
Their rivalry was the stuff of FCW legends. Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins. Destined from the start for their careers to be entwined. Seth knew that there was no competing with Dean's viciousness and fire despite his best efforts; every time Dean went out there, Seth could feel Dean gutting himself out and leaving it all in the ring. Seth was also smart enough to realise that Dean could match him move for move if he wanted to.
It was almost like watching himself; Dean may have been rougher around the edges, all sharp points and broken glass gathered up and forced into something resembling a functioning human, but Seth couldn't deny that there was a similarity there.
It irritated and intrigued him in equal measures.
Seth might not have been able to compete on a brute force level with Dean, but Seth was a master of the mind games. He knew that it was a risky strategy; Dean had made himself a star with his cutting words and poisonous smiles, that unhinged and manic persona that Seth instinctively knew came from a kernel of truth.
But Seth had always had a fondness of finding the cracks and prising them open, of worming his wall past someone's defences with measured thoughts and calm words before ravaging them from the inside out.
And goddamn it, but there was something about Dean that was almost intoxicating. Something about getting under the older man's skin that Seth almost obsessed about.
Something about tearing Dean down to his most vulnerable with each and every match, each and every touch, that Seth began to crave.
Once Dean had begun to realise what Seth was up to, it had all just become that much sweeter.
Their matches became just that little bit more of a game. A chance to one-up each other at each and every pass.
It was addictive.
And with every confrontation, that heat of wanting pooled in his stomach, making his flesh itch with a need to pin Dean beneath him and take. To destroy the older man. To scratch and mark and bruise that pale skin, to taste the sweat at his pulse, to wring the sweetest of noises from Dean.
It was all-consuming.
And Dean knew it.
And god, did he torture Seth with this knowledge.
There were subtle gropes in the ring, Dean's eyes blown black with that mischievous grin as he pressed himself closer to Seth than needed. There was those grinding of hips during pins, the way that Dean would suck his bottom lip between his teeth and supress a whimper. He could even smell the arousal on the older man, a heady mess of sweat and heat and something smoky that made his mouth go dry.
It wasn't until late at night in his hotel room when Seth was alone, his fingers wrapped around his cock and his hips pumping against his fist, biting back the moans and breathy gasps as he imagined Dean's smart mouth sinking down the length of his cock, those blue eyes hazy with lust as Dean fucked his own fist, that Seth realised he might have been in a little bit of trouble.
In fact, the moment that Seth came, Dean's name on his lips and his eyes rolling back in his head as he milked himself through one of the most intense orgasms of his adult life, Seth realised that he was quite possibly fucked.
And the next day, when Dean had caught his gaze in the locker room and had given him a small smile, Dean's eyes glittering with intent and secrecy…
Yeah.
Seth was definitely fucked.
The second time Seth knew Dean Ambrose was going to irrevocably change his life was all Roman Reign's fault.
Well, technically, it wasn't Roman's fault, but it made Seth feel a hell of a lot better to have someone to blame.
Roman just complicated everything.
Seth and Dean had been dancing around each other for months, an illicit tango of pushing and pulling that had spun them closer and closer. Those fleeting touches. Those averted eyes when one caught the other staring. The unbearable tension that made the air heavy and thick with heat whenever they were alone together.
It had driven Seth insane.
It had all come to a head one night, both men drunk on lust and liquor when Seth had backed Dean against the wall of their hotel room and kissed him with every ounce of his being, his fingers coming up to grab desperately at Dean's hair whilst his other hand sat on Dean's waist, just above his belt.
It had been sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clicking and both men breathing hard through their noses, and when Dean's hands came to rest on Seth's hips with more tentativeness than he had ever seen from the older man, his lips brushing against Seth's, Seth's heart skipped a beat in his chest.
It had been glorious, Seth pulling away to smile crookedly at Dean before hooking his fingers into Dean's belt loops and pulling him towards Seth's bed, Dean's eyes glazed with lust and something unrecognisable as he slowly followed Seth, allowing himself to be pulled down on top of the younger man.
They'd landed in a heap, Seth completely unaware of the tension that had worked its way into Dean's muscles as he'd rolled them both over, Seth straddling Dean as he leant down to press their lips together again. Seth swallowed down the soft whimper that left Dean, forcing entry with his tongue into the warm cavern of Dean's smart mouth as he skated his fingers down Dean's side firmly, intent clear in his mind as he reached for the buckle of Dean's belt…
Only for Dean to push him away.
Dean's hands were gripped tight onto Seth's shoulders, the ragged breathing of both men filling the air as Seth felt the confusion colour his face.
"W-Wha…?"
Dean's eyes were downcast as he bit down softly on his bottom lip.
"I can't."
Dean's voice was wrecked; the heat and arousal tainted with a nervousness, a vulnerability that Seth had never heard from the older man, and it made Seth's stomach clench painfully. Seth was still sitting in Dean's lap, his lips swollen and a faint thread of saliva clinging to his chin as he regarded the older man, trying not to let his frustration get the better of him.
"Why not? We've been dancing around this for months, you've been dancing around this for months, and I know you want this as much as I do."
Dean gave a gentle sigh, one of his hands coming up to run roughly through his hair; Dean looked like a trapped animal, and Seth reluctantly swung his legs over so that he was sat on the edge of the bed, trying to will away the hardness in his jeans.
"I know, and believe me, I have been fucking fantasising about you taking me in a million ways, drilling me through the mattress, up against the wall, the whole shebang."
"So what's the problem then?"
Dean faced away from Seth, his eyes fixed on the wall, but Seth could see how they were beginning to glaze over with tears. One of Dean's hands came up to rest against the juncture of his neck, tapping a quick rhythm against his collarbone.
"I've never let anyone else get this close to me. When I was younger, it was all 'tough love' if you could even call it that. The only time people would come close to me would be to beat me up, rob me, tell me I was a mistake…"
Dean's voice cracked on the last word, and so did Seth's heart.
"I don't do 'love'," Dean spat the term out like it personally offended him. "I can't afford to trust people in that way. Love, trust? It's all weakness. When I'm weak, I'm a target, I'm vulnerable, and I've spent far too long trying to stay alive to let myself be taken down by something as pathetic as feelings. Or other people. Or anything really. I've spent my whole goddamn life playing the game, figuring out how people tick, what I need to do to make sure they don't tread all over me. Only the strong survive, it's a big bad world out there, and I'm not ready to let someone else fuck with that."
Dean had shrugged out the last bit, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that he okay, that he was being rational. And Seth, to his credit, understood. When you'd spent your entire life bleeding and fighting to make the next day, it had to be nigh on impossible to let that guard down for anything.
But that didn't make it any less painful to hear.
"So, this flirting, this practically begging me to fuck you in the middle of the ring, this heat, was all just a game for you to bring me down if needed?"
Dean, to be fair, at least had the audacity to look guilty.
"It started that way, alright? That what you wanna hear? I just wanted to have some fun, fuck around with you a little bit, but then I realised that you actually had goddamn feelings for me-"
"Hang on one second, what are you implying?"
"You can deny it all you want Seth, but it's written all over your face. You have feelings for me, have done for a while. You get this flash in your eyes I don't see for anyone else. You bite your fingernails when I'm too close, unless you're the one doing the touching of course. As I said, I've spent a lifetime reading people Seth."
Seth frowned for a moment, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he pinched the bridge of his nose hard.
"As I was saying, it started out as a bit of fun trying to rile you up, but then I realised that you have your feelings," Dean waved his hands about theatrically, "and I can't fuck with people like that. I like you Seth. You're one of my only friends around here. I just don't think I'll ever be able to like you that way. That's not on you, that's all me. I'm just broken alright? I can't love. I don't deserve love or to get too close to people because that's the way it's always been. It's just who I am."
Seth's heart leapt into his throat at the self-loathing and shadows etched into Dean's expression. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and kiss the pain off Dean's face, tell him that he wasn't broken, he wasn't weak, he did deserve love, but he restrained himself.
Both men had reached an understanding that night. It didn't dampen Seth's desire for Dean, or how that lust boiled over to become a constant aching ball of love and affection in his gut, but Seth got it. Dean got used to the fact that Seth was probably always going to carry a latent flame for him, and that it wasn't either of theirs faults that Dean couldn't reciprocate.
They both dealt with it, their friendship developing over time until they'd both learned that they could trust each other.
It wasn't perfect, but it was them.
And then Roman fucking Reigns had come along and inadvertently destroyed everything.
And the worst part?
There was nothing that Seth could do about it.
When the three of them had been called up as the SHIELD, Roman had initially been the outsider, almost the third wheel of sorts. He hadn't had the same kind of competitive rivalry that Dean and Seth had had. He hadn't travelled the road with them, hadn't been there night after night as the two of them had watched each other's backs, hadn't closed down bars with them.
It wasn't anyone's error; they'd all just run in different circles during their time in FCW, save for a couple of triple threat matches. Neither Seth nor Dean had been overly surprised when Roman had been drafted in as the final member of the SHIELD; he had something neither of them had. He was imposing, a beast of a man with the explosive power that both Seth and Dean lacked, a raw talent with the potential to go far.
It was also impossible to deny that Roman was disgustingly handsome. He was devastatingly masculine, hard muscle wrapped in soft caramel skin, with the steeliest grey eyes either of them had ever seen. The half sleeve of black ink, rich with a proud Samoan heritage, only complimented the long ebony hair that draped across Roman's wide shoulders.
There was an air of classical mythology about him, a perfect modern day Greek warrior. It stood in direct counterpoint to the analytical intelligence of Seth, the manic brawling style of Dean, and Seth had known from the get-go that the three of them together were going to leave an indelible mark on the sport.
They'd all bonded relatively quickly despite their differences and their backgrounds. There were very few things each of them could truly relate to when it came to history lessons over a couple of bottles of beer, but there was a respect for each other's past, their experiences, that formed the foundation of a strong friendship very quickly.
What Seth had noticed though, very early on, was just how much Dean seemed to gravitate towards Roman.
It hadn't bothered Seth to begin with, because he knew that that was just what Dean was like; he had to spend a lot of alone time with someone, scope them out, find out what made them tick, before deciding whether or not to label them friend or foe.
Roman, though, seemed to get a special seal of approval.
Within a month of the SHIELD being together, it seemed like Roman knew more about Dean's history than Seth did. It seemed like Roman knew how to calm Dean down faster than Seth could, knew how to prevent Dean from destroying half the locker room and himself when he was in a fit of anger. Dean's smiles seemed just a little bit wider, a little bit brighter for Roman than they did for Seth; he didn't flinch or shrug off Roman's touches as much as he did Seth's.
Seth felt bad about it, but goddamn, he couldn't help the sharp sting of jealousy that gripped him.
It was pathetic; Seth should've felt happy that Dean had someone else he could talk to, someone else he could go to whenever he needed some help or guidance or even just to chat shit with. He should've felt happy that Dean apparently trusted Roman enough to let him in.
But that didn't make it any less painful.
Now, Seth seemed to find himself on the outside, merely circling Dean and Roman as the two of them were drawn into each other's orbit. Now, Seth felt like a third wheel, and that only put a Dean-sized dent in his pride.
Seth tried though; he knew that his fears were irrational. Dean wasn't treating him any differently to normal; Seth was still the first one that Dean hugged after a match, he still got the first round of beers in at the bar, Dean still let him have the first shower because he knew how much Seth liked his water scalding hot.
Nothing had changed, right?
It took nearly a year for Seth to realise just how wrong he was.
He'd tried. Goddamn it, he'd tried to keep his growing jealousy under wraps, tried to stop it from seeping out like the venom it was. He'd bitten back every harsh comment or moment of frustration, stamped down on his anger until it had begun to fester in his gut.
That aching ball of love for Dean was still there. It would always be there, Seth knew that that would never change, but now it was being tainted around the edges and he had no idea what he could do to stop it.
It had been after a Smackdown taping that Seth had found himself in the hotel room he shared with Dean by himself. Dean and Roman had gone down to the bar, and despite Seth's brief want to go and join them, he couldn't. Dean and Roman were both very affectionate drunks, and if Seth had to sit there and watch as they both stared at each other with that secretive gaze they shared just between them, or give each other those stupidly open and happy grins they thought Seth hadn't noticed, then Seth wasn't sure he'd be able to hold his tongue.
Instead, he'd laid on his bed, stewing. It was childish, but Seth didn't care. He deserved to be self-indulgent for once.
Seth's simmering had been put to a premature end when Dean had returned, surprisingly by himself, and the second that their eyes had met, Seth knew that there was something majorly wrong.
Dean's eyes were watery, reddened around the rims, his hands trembling as he slowly made his way to sit on the edge of Seth's bed, his back to the younger man.
"Dean, what's wrong? What's happened?"
Seth's voice was frantic, but he didn't dare to move any closer to Dean. Dean was making it well and truly obvious that he didn't want any contact, his head never once turning to look at Seth.
"I-I don't know how it happened…"
Dean's tone was soft, confused, and it only made Seth's gut twist into knots. Reaching forward, Seth went to rest his hand on Dean's shoulder, his own irritation quickly being pushed to the backburner. Dean flinched under Seth's touch, curling up on himself, and Seth couldn't help but feel nauseous.
"Dean, what is it? Please, you're worrying me."
Seth's hand fell off Dean's shoulder as Dean bent forward, burying his face in his palms.
"You're going to hate me."
Seth could barely hear Dean's words, muffled as they were, but it still didn't stop that very real shiver of fear run down his spine. Dean never normally cared what others thought of him, especially not Seth, and to hear the pained conviction and doubt in Dean's tone was agonising.
"I could never hate you, you know that," Seth started firmly, resettling his hand on the back of Dean's neck in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm one of your best friends."
The air was thick with tension, silence hanging heavy between them. Dean gave a deep, shaky sigh, and Seth tried to steel himself, straining to hear Dean's cracked whisper.
"I think I'm in love with Roman."
Seth's heart broke.
"What?"
Seth spat the word out disbelievingly. There was no way…
"I think I'm in love with Roman."
Seth was stunned into silence, barely able to realise that Dean was choking back soft sobs.
Dean was in love with Roman? Dean, the man who had emphatically told him to his face all of those years ago that he didn't love, couldn't love because love was a sign of weakness. Dean, who guarded his inner most sanctum to prevent himself from getting hurt.
Dean, who had fucking told him that night that 'it was just who he was', who had fucking sworn to his face that it wasn't Seth, it was him?
In love with Roman fucking Reigns?
This was inconceivable. This was impossible. This felt like betrayal.
"Seth…"
Dean goddamn knew what Seth felt for him, and now Dean was… He was… With Roman…
"Seth, please, just say something…"
Silence.
"Get out."
Seth's words were dazed but deadly.
"Se-"
"I said GET OUT!"
A small part of Seth knew that he was completely overreacting, that he was being more than unreasonable to Dean, but it had been drowned under the toxic anger threatening to burn Seth alive from the inside out.
Over two years of desire, of feeling like Dean was his sun, his anchor, his everything.
Over two years of feelings he'd told himself long ago would remain unrequited because Dean himself had admitted he would never be able to love Seth the way he wanted.
Over two goddamn fucking years, and Dean just expects him to sit there and be okay with this bombshell?
Seth was livid, but he refused to keep a lid on it. Because the moment he stopped being livid, he knew that he would shatter.
He had watched dispassionately as Dean left, the older man looking more vulnerable and broken than he had ever seen him, but he just couldn't care.
Dean was probably going to go back to Roman's room anyway.
From that moment on, Seth had known that the SHIELD would be on borrowed time.
When Triple H had approached him about two months later, Seth hadn't needed any time to think.
Dean's house hadn't been any different from the last time Seth had been there.
Even Dean's spare key was still hidden underneath his doormat where it had always been.
After he'd carefully dragged the sleeping man out of the backseat of Seth's rental, Seth carried Dean straight through the front door, ignoring the barrage of memories that instantly assaulted him as he gingerly made his way upstairs and nudged open Dean's bedroom door.
Dean had barely stirred from Seth's soft movements, and Seth took the time to grab both of their bags from the car and shoot a quick message off to Sami and Kevin before making his way into the kitchen. Seth knew better than to look in the fridge, - Dean was a lazy fucker when it came to getting groceries in – taking a couple of minutes to remember which cupboard the glasses were in before grabbing two and filling them with water from the faucet.
Seth quickly drained his glass.
This all felt too domestic. Too foreign. Too much like wrongness for Seth to shake off easily.
Sure, he'd been to Dean's apartment in Las Vegas multiple times, but the small place he kept in Cincinnati had always been off-limits; this was where Dean came to hide from the world, where he came when he needed time for himself. He wondered bitterly if Roman had ever been allowed to visit, but he swallowed back the bile burning in his throat with another gulp of water.
He'd need to let Roman know what had happened, knew that Roman would probably want to fly down from Pensacola to look after Dean himself, but that could wait.
It was selfish of him, he knew, but Seth didn't know the next time he'd be able to be alone with Dean.
Was that bad of him? Considering how much he'd poured into trying to hate both Dean and Roman? How much he'd broken both Dean and Roman when he'd betrayed them so long ago?
Probably.
But that small ball of aching and longing was still faintly burning. It had always been burning. It would never stop, regardless of what happened between the three of them.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Seth grabbed the second glass of water, gingerly toeing off his sneakers at the foot of the stairs before heading back up towards Dean's room.
The door was very slightly ajar as Seth backed it open, turning into the room before he froze.
Blue eyes met brown.
Neither man moved a muscle.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"