Work Text:
When he wakes up, his head is pounding, his back is killing him and his pants are gone. He hasn't had a Monday morning like this in a long time.
Dean grunts and wiggles around, trying to get comfortable again. He doesn't know where he is, and to be honest he doesn't care because it's warm and smells like...
"Chris?" He rasps, voice like cotton as he stumbles into the main part of the bus, not even bothering to put on pants. "Yo Sparkles, where you at?"
But the bus was empty and Dean felt pouting was the only action that was acceptable right now, so that's what he did.
"You're boyfriends not here. Shut up, its like ass AM!"
Romans tired voice floated out from one of the other bunks and Dean made his way back over, ripping back the curtain with every intention of jumping on the other man, just cause, when he froze.
Roman looked like hell, his bare chest was littered with bruises, his bottom lip was swollen and he clutched his middle protectively.
All at once, everything came flooding back.
Shit. Last night was Wrestlemania. Dean had missed his brothers match. It clearly hadn't gone well.
"Shit Ro...what the fuck happened to you?"
But Roman just snalred and snatched the curtain still gripped in his hand and slammed it shut.
"Fuck off. Jericho is outside. Just go away."
Dean hovered for a moment more before deciding to talk to Chris first and he shuffled his way outside.
He and Chris Jericho had been dating on and off for the past year and it had been the most stable Dean had felt since Seth left. Chris had made sure he had no Fuzzy shows for the last week so he could be there for Dean while he prepared for the ladder match.
So that explains why his back is fucking killing him.
Jericho looked up from his tablet as Dean stumbled out of the bus in his boxers.
"Hey you. Finally awake? How the everything? Where are your - nevermind"
Dean grinned and flopped (and instantly regretted it) down next to him, leaning against the older mans side.
"Everything fucking hurts, man. Ladder matches suck. Ain't no way to learn to fall off a fucking ladder, ya know?"
Jericho chuckled, wrapping an arm around him. "Yeah I know something about it."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Dean swigging from the bottle of jack that was nestled in the sand between them. The beach was deserted and quiet and he was enjoying the warmth the other man was giving.
"What happened to Ro?" He asked some time later, a slight buzz thumping in his veins. "Why's he with us?"
Jericho sighed, tightening his arm around him and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
"He got his ass kicked most of the match, but you would have been proud of him, he kept going back for more, smiling in Brocks face.. they beat each other up pretty good.."
"But he lost didn't he? Fuck he's gotta be beating himself up. So Lesnar's still the Champ. Well that fucking sucks."
Chris shifted awkwardly and heaved another sigh before saying quickly "Brocks not champion, Seth cashed in and pinned Roman. Seths the champi-Dean!"
Jericho made a grab for the youngers wrist, as Ambrose surged to his feet, his face a splotchy red.
"He fucking cashed in!? HE FUCKING PINNED ROMAN!? AND I FUCKING SLEPT THROUGH IT!? FUCK!" He raged, kicking sand up as he tore a hole in the ground.
"Babe shhh!" Chris hushed, jumping up and pinning the lunatic to his chest. "Shhh, you don't want to upset Roman."
Dean panted, anger and Jack swirling in his blood, he head tucked under Jerichos chin.
"I'll fucking kill him!"
Jericho hushed him again, running a soothing hand up and down his bare back and letting the younger deflate against him. "You can deal with it all tomorrow on Raw. These nothing to be done about it now."
"Why do you have to be so fucking calm all the goddamm time" Dean grumbled, pressing closer. "All the fucking time."
Chris laughed, "Because I've been here and done that."
That was clearly not the right thing to say, because the lunatic shoved him away with a scowl. "Oh, so all thing is old news for you right? I'm sorry, is my profession boring you? Not as exciting as being a fucking rock star?"
Chris glared right back. "Fuck you Dean, you know that's not what I meant. Don't jump down my throat because you're pissed."
They stood, glaring at each other for a few more moments before Dean shoved forward, knocking their shoulders as he headed back for the bus, a "What fucking ever" muttered under his breath.
Jericho caught him, slamming the younger man none too gently against the side of the bus and pinned him there. One hand fisting the hair at the nape of his neck and the other gripped his hip.
"Don't you dare fucking get mad at me, you brat. I'm not who you're pissed at. And I'm here for you but I'm not going to be your punching bag. You want revenge, I'll help you plan it."
"I don't need your fucking help!" Dean immediately snarled back, but he was pressing, harder, closer to Jericho. Baring his neck as a silent offer.
Chris smirked, fisting Dean hair harder and sunk his teeth into the offered skin. Dean swore, snaking his arms around him and pulled him flush against him.
"You're a brat" Chris snickered and slipped his hand under the elastic of Deans boxers to grip his hard on. "A horny, drunk brat."
Dean ignored him for now, instead thumping his head back against the bus and rutting against him. Dean reached up to cup Chris' jaw as he slammed their lips together in something too harsh to call a kiss.
"Fuck.. just - just like that, yeah" He panted into the singers mouth, embarrassingly close already. "Chris, fuck, Sparkles, you sure - uh fuck - sure know how to treat a guy."
Chris rolled his eyes and twisted his wrist on the upstroke, swallowing the predicted keen. "Don't call me Sparkles when I have my hand down your pants."
"I'm not wearing pants." He shot back, arching his hips to push harder into his palm, thighs trembling pathetically when he swiped his thumb across the wet slit. "Jeri- Chris! Uh uhh- Shit I'm gonna- wha?"
Dean whined as he pulled away and with wide eyes, he watched as Chris dropped to his knees and swallowed him to the base in one go, hands palming his ass.
"Fuck!" He cried as his hands flew to grip two fist fulls of soft hair. Jericho hummed once and slacked his jaw, their sign that it was okay to thrust. Using his grip to keep his head still, Dean thrust hard, chasing his orgasam. "Uhh -uhh - fuck fuck fucking shit fuck"
Once, twice and
Chris suddenly dug his nails into the soft flesh of his ass, keeping him pressed deep into the warmth of his throat and hummed..
Dean saw white as he came and shouted his release to anyone who would listen.
He slid down on weak legs right into Chris' lap and reached with shaking hands for his belt. But Jericho gripped his wrist and shook his head.
"I'm fine. Later. We've already given Roman a show."
There's was a thump and a quiet "Shit" from the bus that sent the two into giggles.
Chris stood, dragging his weak kneed, brat of a boyfriend with him. "Come on you lunatic, let's go to bed. Raw tomorrow!"
Dean tucked himself into his side and let the other man drag him into the bus.
"Alright Sparkles. But I'm getting that dick tomorrow. Goodnight Ro!"
"Go the fuck to sleep!"
"What?" Dean called from their bunk, Chris pressed up tight and warm against his back. "Didn't enjoy the show?"
"Fuck off Ambrose."
"I already did."