It's finally here!

I'm really sorry about the delay in getting this written, the real world decided to get in the way. So, this is over 4,000 words of angst and angry stuff, but I absolutely loved writing it and I hope that you all like it to.

As usual, if you have any comments, reviews, critiques or ideas, then please don't hesitate to let me know below!

Also, I'm taking prompts/requests for any future Ambreigns/Ambrollins/Ambrolleigns fics, so if you have any burning ideas, hit me up!

Hope you all enjoy!

Blue eyes met brown.

Neither man moved a muscle.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

xxxxx

Seth resisted the urge to turn and walk away, his heart thudding in his chest as he regarded the older man before him.

Seth was honestly expecting – hoping? – that Dean would be out for at least a few more hours; enough time for Seth to make sure that Dean would be okay before hightailing it out of there. Even despite the circumstances, Seth knew that he wouldn't be welcome once Dean had actually recovered from his backstage mishap.

Okay, so it may have been Seth's self-indulgence to have Dean depending on him, to look after the older man, to temporarily stop that ball of affection and agony aching in his gut that drove the need to even be here, but Seth couldn't fight against himself.

Not on this.

Not when Dean had been driving himself to the brink of exhaustion, of destruction. Not when Dean's eyes were subdued with uncertainty. Not when Roman – even thinking his name made the bile burn the back of Seth's throat- wasn't here to care for Dean like Dean desperately wanted. Not when Dean lacked Roman's firm and forgiving hand on the back of his neck like an anchor to guide Dean through the world.

No, Roman wasn't here, and Dean probably didn't want him here, but Seth was the only one left. Seth knew that he could support Dean for a brief while, stop him from going under.

And yes, it would hurt, it would hurt like hell. Being close to Dean this way would haunt Seth at night. It would make him flare bright with fury and longing, fury that would burn into pure despise once Dean and Seth were back in the ring together.

But Seth had always perversely enjoyed the pain that Dean inspired in him.

It was something. And if Dean couldn't love him, then Seth would hate enough for the two of them.

Dean was uncharacteristically quiet as he waited for Seth's answer. It was unnerving. Blue eyes were hazy and backlit with confusion, Dean's skin a shade paler than normal. His hair was ruffled, odd curls plastered to the side of his face with sweat.

There was an air of innocence that made Seth's stomach clench. This was a Dean with his defences down, his walls crumbled and awaiting rebuilding once he was awake enough to do it. Dean, laying in his own bed, in his own house, surrounded by very little save for the odd photograph of old wrestling buddies Seth vaguely recognised; there were occasional photos of Dean and Roman.

None with Seth though.

Seth tried to ignore the nausea roiling in his gut.

It would have been so easy for Seth to take advantage of Dean's current vulnerability. It would have been so easy to get under his skin, to mess around with him a little bit and force him onto the back foot, but something about that thought just felt so wrong.

It wasn't a feeling that Seth was used to in the slightest. Sure, he'd been wronged in the past, he'd dealt with the pain and heartbreak and acid of righting every wrong he'd been put through by the exhausted man in front of him, but he'd never truly felt the shiver up his spine of sheer wrongness that he felt now as he continued staring at Dean.

Even after all this time, Dean fucking Ambrose still found a way to touch a nerve without even doing anything. It was infuriating and painful at the same time.

Seth let his eyes slip shut for a brief moment as he took a deep breath.

He could do this. Just a few moments of civility and weakness and then Seth could go back to being Seth; maybe a little bit worse for wear, but he'd dealt with harder in the past.

Pushing himself off the doorframe, Seth took a few steps towards the bedside cabinet on the opposite side of Dean's bed, placing down the glass of water he'd brought up with a soft clink. Dean's eyes were fixed on Seth every second, a groan escaping his lips and a hand instantly coming up to his face when he turned a bit too quickly, his back firmly pressed against the headboard.

It was a message, even despite Seth's attempts at playing nurse; there used to be a time when Dean never worried about showing his back to Seth, trusting him fully.

"Drink the water, Ambrose. Doc said you were dehydrated, haven't been looking after yourself properly."

Seth's voice was firm but flat, his soft words lacking the conviction or encouragement that he hoped they'd have. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"And how do I know you ain't put some shit in it?"

Dean's tone was rough and weary with sleep, like honeyed gravel, and god it took all of Seth's strength not to fall to the floor at the rush of warmth that flooded him. Seth gave a crooked smile.

"Really, De… Ambrose? I wouldn't stoop to those levels and you know it."

Dean gave a huff, his glare fixed on the duvet as he resolutely refused to look Seth in the eye. It was probably better for both of them this way, Seth thought.

"I don't know you, Rollins. All I know is you're a liar, and a cheat, and and…"

Dean paused. His words had no heat or malice behind them, recited tiredly like he was reading the morning newspaper, but they still caused a flare of anger in Seth's blood.

"What are you even doing here? Is this some shitty new Authority plan to take me out? 'Cos if so, this is low, even for a scumbag like you."

Seth clenched his fist sporadically by his side. Trust Dean to think that everything was a fucking plan to take him down. Trust Dean to think that every single thing in Seth's life revolves around him. Trust Dean to think he was still worth something to Seth, even after everything they'd gone through.

Even though it was all still goddamn true.

Seth smiled viciously.

"Don't fucking flatter yourself, Ambrose. I decided to help you out of the goodness of my heart, a completely selfless choice because despite what you think, I'm not the bad guy here."

But it wasn't selfless, and even Seth knew that Dean would see straight through him. There was always an agenda as far as Seth was concerned.

It didn't mean that Dean had to know Seth that was only here because he was weak and needed to quench that aching ball that continued to demand attention. Dean didn't need to know that he had tainted anything and everything about Seth's heart that had been good once on that one fateful night.

Dean didn't need to know shit.

Seth's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dean's caustic laughter; a jagged, empty sound that only riled Seth up even further.

"And there was me thinking you didn't actually have a heart."

Dean's words were spat out as he pulled his knees into his chest, his arms crossed lightly on top of them. It left Seth feeling disturbingly exposed in the middle of Dean's bedroom, in Dean's home, and even despite Seth's best efforts to keep himself calm, he could feel his composure slipping away from him faster than Dean had all those years ago.

"Well, it's not like your almighty saviour is here to pick your pathetic ass back up, is it?"

Dean's eyes shot up, meeting Seth's gaze for the first time since this entire thing had started. They were dark, cold. Not the glittery blue orbs backlit with warmth and mischief Seth saw so vividly in his dreams at night, the way they used to be in the early days before Seth permanently snuffed out that light. Hardened them. Drove him to Roman.

"Anyone would have been better than you, you lowlife scumbag."

Seth smirked, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

"Really? Really, Dean? Unlike those so-called friends of yours, at least I was nice enough to drag your ass back home. Wouldn't do for everyone to know how weak and overrated their world champ is."

Seth put it down to the sheer exhaustion and lack of sleep Dean had had when Dean couldn't hold back the slight flinch at Seth's words. Seth tried to ignore the knot in his gut at the reaction; Dean had always been insecure when it came to other people, especially those who could be termed as 'friends'. It had taken a long time for Seth to finally teach Dean in the early days that not everyone in this world had evil intentions.

Oh, the bittersweet irony.

"Ha, like you were until Roman picked up the scraps left after your injury and tried to make the belt mean something again?"

Seth couldn't control the venom burning in his veins as he pointed menacingly at Dean, anger colouring his tone.

"Don't you fucking dare say his name! I'm twice the man Roman Reigns will ever be, and don't you ever forget it!"

A sharp, knowing smirk suddenly twisted Dean's lips as he leaned back against the headboard, and Seth couldn't help but berate himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He had to be more careful around Dean at times like this; Dean was just as good as Seth, if not better, at manipulating any signs of weakness to his own advantage.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot, 'stupid old Ambrose', huh?"

There was a jovial, almost manic note to Dean's voice, those dimples piercing his cheeks, and god fucking damn it but Seth felt his knees buckle just a little bit.

"That's right! You only wish Roman was me!"

Seth knew that he was projecting. He knew that he was letting Dean get under his skin, prise open those cracks in Seth's defences; his words were an insult and a plea, wrapped up together in a desperate attempt to stop Dean seeing just how much he still affected Seth.

Except even Seth wasn't naïve enough to think he was succeeding.

Seth was brought out of his own thoughts by the rough bark of laughter Dean gave; it was an ugly sound, Dean's eyes darkening as his body language suddenly turned serious.

"Now who's the pathetic one, huh, Sethie? Who's always had my back since day one? Who's proved themselves each and every night, at each and every turn, regardless of how hard it has been? Who do I trust with my life? Who fucking loves and cares for me more than anyone else on this earth? 'Cos newsflash, Rollins, it ain't you!"

The cadence of Dean's voice, vicious and undulating as it swung from a soft whisper to a growled and snarled shout, was enough to make the hairs on the back of Seth's neck stand on end. The anger was like a riptide, threatening to drag them both under as Dean sat up straight, running a hand roughly through his hair.

"That's a damn lie and you know it!"

Another harsh chuckle. This was definitely not turning out the way that Seth had expected. Although, to be fair, he should have known not to expect anything other than this when it came to Dean.

"Enlighten me then, 'o wise and all-knowing Seth Rollins, do you really fucking care about me? Could I ever really trust you? Because all I can see is some bitch coward who couldn't handle shit that got tough or didn't go their way!"

That was it.

"I've always fucking cared about you, that's the entire goddamn problem!"

The room fell silent apart from both men's panted breaths.

Seth's eyes slipped shut as his shoulders slumped, frustration and pain and hatred and exhaustion – bone deep exhaustion that had followed him around for over two long years – that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally breaking.

"I've always fucking cared Dean. That's the whole point and you know it. I loved you, I still goddamn love you, you asshole, and what did you say? 'Oh, I don't do love, I'm all broken and fucked up and didn't get enough hugs and kisses as a ki-"

Dean's eyes turned murderous.

"Don't even fucking go there."

Seth wasn't even sure he knew where there was anymore, but he didn't care. He felt almost dizzy at the lightness that lifted his heart; it was such an intense rush of release, the vitriol and bile and festering wound in his chest finally starting to feel like it was healing.

"And then what did you do? You came crying to me like a fucking pussy, declaring your undying love for Roman Reigns of all people, that stupid bastard!"

Dean was seething.

"You stop right now or I will break your face!"

There was a thread of panic tainting Dean's words; Dean had never been good with confrontations like this, preferring fists and blood over truths and feelings, but Seth couldn't stop.

"You broke my heart, you selfish prick! You destroyed me!"

"WELL IT'S NOT LIKE YOU WERE ANY FUCKING BETTER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Silence.

Such heavy and oppressive silence suffocating them both.

Seth was stunned, his heart thudding in his ears as he was brought back down to earth with an almighty crash.

He stood wide-eyed as he regarded the older man before him. Dean's face was flushed red with fury, his lips shiny with saliva and his hair sticking up all over the place as he panted shallowly.

But Dean's eyes, oh Dean's eyes, Seth thought sadly as he swallowed against the thick lump that had appeared in his throat, they were hazy with a film of tears that Seth knew Dean would never let him see.

Hazy with tears, but empty.

So empty.

The last time Seth had seen this much emotion clouding Dean's eyes was when Dean was pleading with Seth that fateful night, when Dean watched his closest friendship slipping through his fingers because Seth couldn't control his own jealousy…

And all of a sudden, Seth actually felt sick.

"You ripped the SHIELD apart piece by motherfucking piece, you fucking ruined my life, and all because I hurt your precious feelings? And you call me selfish? What, I wouldn't fall into bed with you so you went and ran to Triple H like a child? Complain like a bitch to anyone who would listen all about that 'big bad crazy Ambrose'? You have a fucking nerve. You fucking sicken me, and yet you still fucking throw a hissy fit because Roman understood me? Because he pulled me the rubble you fucking abandoned me in and made me human again?"

Dean's tone was flat, almost bored, but Seth could hear the faint tremor wavering his voice, the weight of all the agony and confusion and loss that Dean had been carrying for over two years completely unmistakeable as Dean fixed his gaze on a spot behind Seth's shoulder. Dean's fingers were tapping a slow, precise rhythm against his inner thigh, and Seth was struck by the distressing urge to move closer and lace his own fingers over Dean's.

Seth clenched his fists tight, his nails digging into his palm.

"Stop talking about him, this is about us, about you and me."

"Roman is a part of me, you jackass! He is the most important thing in my life! You gave up that claim when you broke us!"

Seth stood in open-mouthed silence, too stunned to even muster together some kind of response. Seth's skin was crawling, like pins and needles, as the severity of Dean's words began to fully sink in.

Seth honestly hadn't meant to break them.

There was no intention to tear them apart and leave them both virtually crippled from the impact. Seth had just needed the distance, the breathing space and the clarity that came with it. He needed to be able to live his life without the constant thrum and pull of Dean clawing away at him, dragging him further and further into that miserable pit of unrequited love that Dean just couldn't return.

It had just gotten out of hand, his jealousy and anger and resentment and betrayal spiralling until Seth couldn't find his own way out of the spiders web Dean had inadvertently lured him into.

Was that Dean's fault? Maybe.

But he should've known better than to get involved with someone like Ambrose and not expect to get burned, and by running away and burying himself in his career at the expense of everyone else around him, he'd only made things worse.

Dean was staring at him, his eyes wide and bright with a vulnerability and pain that made Seth feel physically ill.

"You broke me, and I hated myself for it. Still do some days, y'know?"

Dean gave a ghost of a bitter smile, his voice barely above a whisper as he swallowed thickly, scratching the inside of his elbow.

"Roman calls it self-sabotage, getting into fights and arguments and fucking up the one good thing in my life with him, push him away before he can throw me out into the gutter like the scum I am. He tells me he loves me, every single day, and yet I've never been able to say it back. Because the last time I said I loved him? My best friend kicked me to the curb, destroyed any trust I had for people in this world."

Seth could feel the tears budding in his own eyes as he softly bit down on his bottom lip. He could feel his stomach churning, the bile burning his throat with the weight of every hushed and cracked admission tumbling out of Dean's mouth.

"I mean, I survived some shit when I was a kid, buried every horrible memory and feeling deep in my gut just so that I could sleep at night, but you…"

Seth felt like he couldn't breathe when a single tear trickled slowly down Dean's pale cheek.

"But you, Seth Rollins, you very nearly shoved me over the edge. For the longest time, I couldn't look in a mirror without seeing your face that night reflected back at me. It haunted me. It still fucking haunts me, you still fucking haunt me, and not even beating your face in every single night can fully erase that. Not even Roman can fully erase that, and Roman has to deal with the consequences. You got away scot-free. You didn't nearly drive everyone away because you lashed out whenever anyone got too close. You didn't get into bar fights night after night just to feel something, terrified that you'd go back to your hotel room and the one person you cared for most in the world would realise just how fucked up you were. You don't fucking flinch like a scalded dog every night when you're laying in bed, wrapped up in the arms of someone who spends their every moment trying to convince you that you're fucking worth somethi-"

Dean choked on a sob, his fist briefly resting against his lips before slamming down on the bed beside him. The thud was sudden enough to make Seth jump, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than it did before.

"You don't deal with any of that. You don't give a shit. You never did, otherwise you wouldn't have destroyed us. I will probably never be able to tell Roman that I actually love him. I will probably end up wrecking his life the same way you did mine, which he will never deserve."

Dean lifted his head, his eyes meeting Seth's once more.

"And I will never forgive you for that."

And in that moment, Seth felt his heart break all over again.

Dean rubbed a hand roughly down his face, scrubbing furiously at the tears now running insistently down his cheeks, before moving to lay back down on top of the bedcovers. He curled himself up into a tight ball, not unlike a child would, his face partially obscured by the pillows.

His gaze never once left Seth's though, the younger man standing there trying desperately to find something to say as he watched the shutters come down across Dean's face, a hint of self-loathing and despair flashing across Dean's expression before he hid himself away behind the cracked walls and foundations he very rarely dropped.

Seth could tell instantly that Dean had said too much. He'd revealed too much. He'd shown too much weakness.

Dean's body language was defensive, as if daring Seth to say or do something.

But Seth couldn't.

He didn't know what he could do.

Seth should've known better than to agree to helping Dean get home, should've known better than to be self-indulgent and try to placate that aching ball of longing that had sat heavy in his stomach for over two years. He should've realised that he was taking a risk, but he had been too blinded by the opportunity for Dean to finally be dependent on him again.

For Dean to care about him again.

Seth should've known that the true damage had been done that one fateful night in a shared motel room, with those two words he wished he'd never said. Two words that had sent Dean into freefall, only to be caught by the one person Seth wanted to be more than anyone else.

Seth gave a ragged sigh, blinking back the tears as he realised that Dean's eyes had fallen shut, soft whines and whimpers coming from the older man even as the tension failed to dissipate.

That helplessness was there again, and Seth's heart lurched in his chest. Dean looked so young, so precious, and the urge to wrap him up in his arms and protect him from the horrors of the world was almost overpowering.

And pointless.

Seth was the biggest horror in Dean's world.

And Seth realised that he would probably never be able to change that, no matter what he did.

Taking a few cautious steps forward, Seth leaned over Dean's upper body, his fingers twitching with a desire to smooth away all of the tension in Dean's limbs. His hand was trembling as he reached out, his fingertips barely caressing Dean's face as he brushed his sweaty hair away from his flushed skin.

Dean didn't even flinch; he must be exhausted, Seth thought sadly.

Leaning forward, Seth's mouth hovered just above Dean's ear, his breath bathing Dean's damp skin in warmth.

"I'm sorry Dean. I really am."

Seth's apology was heavy with genuine remorse, and Seth waited for a split moment before remembering that he wouldn't get any kind of response.

It was fine. He didn't deserve one. He didn't deserve anything from Dean.

A beat passed, and Seth pressed his lips gently to Dean's temple, his eyes slipping shut when he realised that this was probably the last time that he'd ever get this close to the older man.

It was bittersweet really, to think that the next time they saw each other, the status quo would be balanced once more; they'd fight tooth and nail, they'd spew words full of acid and hate, they'd go back to trying to destroy each other on a nightly basis.

The ball of longing didn't recede though.

Seth knew that it wouldn't. His affection and need for Dean was just as strong as it would ever be.

This, though, he deserved. This pain of what could have been, this lovesick misery that would dog Seth until the end of his days. This knowledge that Dean was with Roman, and that he was loved.

The agony that Seth had let Dean slip through his fingers, and that it was no-one's fault but his.

Reluctantly, Seth pulled away, his chest going tight at the faintest curl of Dean's lips; for a brief second, Seth imagined that Dean was smiling because of him, and it was enough to ease the aching in his gut for a flicker of time.

It took everything Seth had in him to walk away, his protective instincts still screaming and shouting that Dean was unwell and needing looking after, but Seth knew that he wasn't the one who could do it.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Seth quickly typed in a number that he had never forgotten.

Message sent 19:43

He really loves you, even if he can't say it. He needs you right now.

Message received 19:45

who is this?

Message started 19:46

I'm sorry, to both of you. I really am.

Seth paused for a second. Backspaced.

Message sent 19:47

Look after him.

Seth hadn't even reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard Dean's mobile phone loudly ringing, Dean's grumbling as he came round from his dozing.

Seth bit down hard on his bottom lip, his eyes tearing up once more as he opened the main door, hearing Dean's gruff voice echoing from upstairs, the relief clear in the breathed sigh that cut through Seth like a knife.

"Hey, Ro, baby, don't panic, I'm okay…"

Pulling himself up to his full height, Seth took a deep breath as he let the front door click closed behind him.