Chapter Text
Dean shuffled from foot to foot, uncertain. "Yeah." He took a couple of steps into the room as Seth struggled to push himself up one-armed. He held out a cluster of slightly-wilted flowers. "I, uh, I got these for you."
"You've been gone for a week, Dean. Nobody's seen you anywhere."
"I know." Dean ducked his head, the bouquet falling to his side. "I had to, uh, I had to sort some shit out."
"You just left." Seth ploughed on, his italics picking up steam. "You left and you didn't even leave me a note, and then you show up here and think flowers are gonna make it okay?"
Dean shook his head. "Not trying to make it okay, just figure like… you bring sick people flowers, yeah? That's what regular people do. I know you're not like, sick, and they're not good flowers, cause I got em at Kroger or whatever, but I thought you might like em." Dean looked pensively at the sad little bouquet, the only one he'd had the money to buy. "We can smash them, if you want. Burn em. I don't care, I just wanted to bring you somethin."
Seth realized that this was a Dean Ambrose apology, and he held out his good arm. "Get over here, you big dork."
Dean shambled over to the bed, flowers clutched in front of him like a shield, and Seth reached up for him, pulling him down onto the bed. He pressed his nose into Dean's hair, greasy though it was, and sighed. "I missed you."
"Missed you too," Dean mumbled into his shoulder, tapping the back of Seth's neck with the bouquet. "You wanna smash these flowers?"
"No, I don't want to smash them," Seth chided. Dean offered them again, bonking them off Seth's nose, his face still buried in Seth's neck, and this time Seth took them. No one had ever brought him flowers before, except for his mom, and it was a sweet gesture. He wouldn't have figured Dean would think of something like that. "I don't have anything to put them in, though."
Dean sat up, looked around, and leaned forward. He plunked the flowers into the pitcher of ice water on the table next to the bed, because of course he did. Seth sighed.
"What? It's water, isn't it?"
"It is, Dean. Thank you for the flowers."
"They're not great," Dean admitted, blue eyes fixed on them, fingers drumming in staccato on his dirty jeans. "Wanted to get you roses, but-" He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Money."
"I love them," Seth told him. He reached up to tug at the curls at the back of Dean's neck. "Now where the fuck have you been?"
"Told you," Dean muttered. "Had shit to take care of."
"Right, and you've been so busy in business meetings and wooing clients that you didn't have five minutes to stop and see me." Seth tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he'd been bored and lonely and in pain and scared. Dean hadn't even left a note, he'd just vanished without a trace, leaving Seth unconscious in the hospital, to wake up aching and alone.
"'m sorry." Dean was slumped over, still fixated on the flowers- tulips, violets and carnations, totaling all of six dollars and change- scuffing his feet along the shiny tiled floor. "I wanted to come in. I just figured it was… safer. For you. If I wasn't around."
Seth watched the muscles of Dean's shoulders move under his hoodie for a few seconds. There was an itch starting under his cast, and it hurt to breathe, but Dean was here. He hadn't left, he'd come back, and Seth swallowed, wishing he could bore into that skull and figure out what Dean was thinking, why he'd come back after being MIA for a full week. What the hell he'd been doing, aside from avoiding Seth.
"Manny's dead," he informed Dean's back.
"I know." Dean's tone went weirdly flat, and Seth reached over to touch him. Dean stiffened under Seth's hand, and forced himself to relax. It was Seth. Seth was safe. "Roman told me."
"You went to see Roman?" That stung; Dean would go see Roman, but not come to him?
"Yeah, earlier tonight. Ain't seen him for a week either, wanted to say good-bye."
A snarl of panic furled up in Seth's belly and he fought it back down, his heart pounding in his ears. "Why would you need to say good-bye?"
"Can I have my fish?" Dean asked, abruptly. His hands were shaking, and he shivered, unconsciously. "You still got Jeremy?"
"Yeah, uh-" Seth realized that the capsule was sitting next to his leg; he'd dropped it in shock when he'd seen Dean. He scooped it up and passed it over, returning Dean's little friend to his proper place in the world. "Here he is."
Dean cupped the bubble in his trembling hands, staring into it. "It's been a long week."
Seth wasn't sure if Dean was talking to Jeremy or him. He waited, as Dean took a few shaky breaths.
"I wanted to come in," Dean repeated. "I couldn't. Bad enough you got hurt. But I came. Every night."
"Here?"
"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Sat outside. The nurses didn't tell you?"
"Nah." Seth scooched closer and leaned up against Dean's back, cheek pressing against the cotton of his hoodie. "They never said anything."
Dean rolled Jeremy against his palm, the familiar rattle soothing after a week on his own. He hadn't wanted to worry Seth. He'd just wanted to assure himself that Seth would be safe once he left. He felt the scratch of a beard against his hoodie and then Seth's mouth was next to his ear.
"So where were you?"
Dean swallowed, fingers clenching on the plastic he held. "Went to take care of Manny."
"Take care of," Seth repeated slowly, drawing back to sit up. "That sounds ominous."
"I was going to kill him," Dean admitted, voice low, tone still flat. "For doing this to you."
He turned and looked at Seth, taking in the bruises on his face, the bandage covering the stitches on his head, the left arm in a cast from wrist to shoulder. "It's my fault; I let myself get close to someone, and he took advantage of it. He was watching. He was always fuckin watching."
"And you-" Seth cleared his throat, suddenly dry, his tongue lying in the desert of his mouth like a dead slug. "You decided to make it so he couldn't."
"I didn't know if the cops could handle it. I gave Handyman-"
"Henderson," Seth corrected mindlessly. His brain was still reeling, trying to process that Dean had just flatly admitted being willing to murder someone for him. "The detective."
"Yeah, him. Gave him as much info as I could, called in every favour from everyone I could think of for the last however many years. Tried to give him enough to put Manny away for as long as possible. But I didn't know if it was gonna be enough. And I wasn't gonna take the chance that he might decide to finish the job. That's why I had to say good-bye. Because I knew that once I did... that, I wasn't gonna be coming back."
The itch under his cast was intensifying; Seth wanted to chew his own arm off. Anything to distract from this horrible conversation. "Do you hear yourself? You think that you going to prison for murder-"
"Shut up!" Dean hissed, as an orderly wheeled a cart past. "Not everyone needs to know."
Seth lowered his voice, although he wanted to grab Dean by the ears and bellow in his face. "You think going to prison for murder is helping me?"
"Helping you be safe from him, yeah." Dean looked at him, blue eyes earnest. "But I didn't."
"Because you realized how pants-on-head fucking stupid that plan was, or because he was already dead?"
"You're mad at me," Dean mumbled, staring down at the capsule in his hands. "Roman was mad at me too."
"That's... what the fuck were you thinking, that we'd applaud this brilliant idea?"
"I just wanted to keep you safe. Because I fuckin- I care about you. I don't do that. I don't care about people, I don't let myself get attached. But I got attached to you."
Seth leaned back against his pillows, feeling drained. He wondered, for probably the billionth time, how the hell he'd gotten mixed up with the likes of Dean. Who was apparently A-okay killing people. Apparently. He tried not to imagine Dean with a pistol, Dean with wild eyes, his unkempt hair falling into his face. Tried not to imagine Dean pulling the trigger. It was far, far too easy to picture. He closed his eyes. "You never answered me."
The silence spun out between them, the truth sitting heavy, a fat spider in a web of horror.
"Because he was already dead," Dean confirmed. He rolled Jeremy between his calloused palms. "I don't know, maybe I wouldn't have been able to do it. Doesn't matter." Dean got to his feet and looked down at Seth, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "He's dead. I threw the gun in the river. And you hate me. So it really doesn't matter."
He shoved his hands into the front of his hoodie and slouched away. He was nearly at the door before Seth called after him.
"I don't hate you."
"No?" Dean leaned against the doorjam, genuine surprise written on his face. He'd expected Seth to blow up, send him away, never want to see him again, because he was next door to being a murderer. Even if it had been born out of desperation and fear, even if he was lashing out because he'd been cornered like a rat in a drainpipe, he'd still acquired the gun with every intention of using it. If he had to. If the police didn't take care of it. All he'd wanted was to be left in peace, to work off the claws of his addiction, and to be with Seth.
"Kind of the opposite, actually." There. It was out. Seth wasn't stupid; he knew what Dean leaving Jeremy behind meant. He knew that what Dean had intended to do to Manny was coming from those feelings, misguided though his idea had been. Seth gestured to him. "Come back here."
He pulled Dean back down onto the bed and kissed him, the entire week burning between them. "Just... please, God, never do something that stupid ever again."
"Don't think I'll have the chance again," Dean told him, scooting over to mold himself into Seth's side. Seth took the opportunity to tuck his head under Dean's chin, and Dean looped his arm over Seth's shoulder, holding him. "I was fine, until he hurt you. If he had just left us alone-"
"So there is an us," Seth murmured, tapping his fingers against his cast.
"Yeah. I guess there is an us." This was a lot, so much all at once, and it should have been terrifying, but it wasn't. It wasn't. Dean carded his fingers through Seth's long hair. This sort of thing would have sent him screaming into the sunset a few months ago, but right now, he didn't want anything other than to sit next to Seth, their hips pressed together, Seth solid and warm and there, against his chest. He wondered if this was what it was like to be happy. He thought maybe it was.
"And yet, you keep talking about leaving."
"I just don't think you know what it's gonna mean if I stay."
"Can't be weirder than it has been so far." Seth sat up long enough to look Dean dead in the eye. "Can it?"
Dean shrugged. "Probably will be, now that you said that."
"Do you want to stay?"
"Do you want want me to stay?" Dean hedged, his guard up again. He wasn't about to spill his guts until he knew what Seth wanted.
"I do." Seth swallowed, his heart hammering against his ribs. He hoped Dean wasn't about to flee, but it was fighting to get loose, a blind bird fluttering against its cage. "I love you, Dean. I have no idea how, or when, or why, but I do." Dean's arm was close enough for Seth to reach with his plaster-bound arm. His fingers tightened on Dean's wrist. "Please don't run away from me."
Dean could feel Seth's eyes boring into him, and he didn't dare meet that gaze. He wanted to, he did, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure what Seth would see in his own eyes. So instead of looking at Seth and returning the sentiments, he rolled Jeremy down his thigh, trying to keep his hand from shaking.
No one had ever told him they loved him. A muscle jumped in Dean's jaw as he battened down the hatches of his feelings. He wasn't good at this. Never had been, and he knew, deep down, he never would be. His whole life, he'd never thought he would ever deserve anyone's love. He snuffled, lifted his shoulder in a shrug, tapped Jeremy against his leg, all the things he did to try to shift attention from how awkward he was feeling.
"I don't want to run away. I'm just... scared, I guess. Never had, like... a thing. Like this. Before now."
"It's called a relationship, I think," Seth murmured, tucking his nose back under Dean's chin. He hadn't expected Dean to say it, and it didn't bother him. He looked at the goldfish cracker Dean was holding, remembered waking up with the capsule under his hand. Not knowing what it had cost Dean to leave it, maybe, but recognizing nonetheless what it meant.
No, he didn't need to hear the words.
"Yeah. S'like... a regular-person thing. I'm not a regular person. Never have been."
Seth reflected on that for a moment. "No, you're really not. I don't think I'd want you to be. But you're mine."
"I... kind of like being yours," Dean replied, smiling against Seth's hair. "You're the only person who's ever gave enough of a fuck to put up with me."
"I've had folks tell me I'm pretty high-maintenance. Hell-" Seth wriggled around so that his back was flush with Dean's chest and let all his tension whoosh out with a long sigh. "I've had people break up with me because of it. I don't think I have room to judge anyone else for their quirks."
Dean grunted. "If quirks is the word you wanna use."
"For lack of a better term. Have you been home at all?"
"Nope. Clean break, y'know? Roman's got the dog."
"I know. He's been coming to see me."
"I been comin to see you," Dean defended himself. "You just weren't conscious at the time. It still counts." He tapped Seth's cast. "Does it hurt?"
"Like hell."
"How's your head?"
"Also hurts. So do my ribs. But they're cutting me loose tomorrow, thank God. I've never been so bored in my damn life."
Dean winced. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. You didn't beat the shit out of me."
"Yeah, but-"
"Don't." Seth twisted his neck to look up at Dean. "Not your fault. It was Manny's fault, and Manny's dead, so it's done. Well-" Seth shifted his arm. "In eight weeks or so, it will be."
"I still feel bad."
"Dean, if you had been there, the only difference would be that we'd both be in here. Remember what happened before Christmas? You think me being there would have changed that?"
"I guess, yeah." Dean nuzzled Seth's ear. "I really missed you."
"I missed you too. Kind of got fond of you."
"Kind of got fond of you too." That, Dean could say. And he could hold Seth, and pet his hair, and try to be everything that Seth needed. Someone who could be depended on.
A nurse came in with Seth's medication then, and smiled at them. Dean grinned back at her; Angelina, her name was, the one who'd brought him the tea a few days ago. "You finally came in, hey?"
"Figured I should." Dean tugged on Seth's hair. "He deserves more than me hiding in the hallway."
"He does," she agreed, handing Seth the little cup with his antibiotics and injecting a syringe into the IV; morphine, Dean figured. Seth must still be in a lot of pain.
Once she'd gone, Seth allowed himself to sink into a painkiller-induced sleep, still tucked against Dean's chest. Right before he went under, he reached out with his good arm and rested his hand on Dean's, over Jeremy.