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“Nice job out there, Ambrose,” came a rumbling quip as Roman stomped into the locker room. He ripped open the velcro strap on his glove before tugging it off and throwing it at his bag. He’d said that before, and it was normally something Seth liked to hear.
The team working together, getting along, their collective goal clearly in mind.
But it was biting and cold coming out of Roman's mouth this time, for reasons that were all too common nowadays.
Dean responded in kind by kicking the door open on his way in, as if making a louder noise than Roman would help him win the argument. “Oh, thank you, thanks so much!” he growled with enough sarcasm to melt a lesser man's tongue. “Because I can definitely read your mind and know exactly when you plan to get your hulking ass right in my way.”
Roman huffed out a pithy laugh and flung his other glove off. “You could, I dunno, stop throwing punches for a second or two to watch where you're fuckin' going.”
“Guys, guys, guys, that's quite enough,” Seth cut in before it got too loud. That knot in the pit of his stomach was back. As if he wasn't anxious enough just from the usual nonsense that came with the job. Now he had his team tearing itself apart from the inside. “Seriously, if you don't keep it quieter, everyone's gonna pick at this shit and throw us off our game.”
While Dean was in the corner, grumbling to himself and picking apart his wrist tape, Roman piped up again as if it were absolutely necessary. “Shit, if we were all on our game to begin with, it wouldn't be a goddamn problem.”
Dean sucked in a breath and whirled around, his mouth twitching. He was oddly calm about this, which to be honest made Seth even more uneasy. “I don't do so good on teams, you both knew that when we started this thing. It only worked with Sami so long 'cuz we got into the business together, I known 'im a long time. You two I met just a couple years ago. All right? I can't read your minds every minute o' the goddamn day.”
Before Seth could interrupt again, Roman threw his arms in the air and scoffed. “I ain't askin' you to be psychic, Dean, I just need ya to have some common goddamn sense.”
“I got plenty o' goddamn common sense!” At least Dean was yelling now, which was nerve-wracking but more familiar. “I got enough to know that sometimes shit happens behind me I gotta watch out for, unlike some fuckers in this room.”
Roman took a step towards Dean, and before his other foot hit the floor, Seth was in between them.
“ENOUGH.” The other two men seemed to consider going through Seth for a moment, but they both thought better of it. Dean glared and Roman shook his head and turned back toward his bag. It was only after a pointed look from Seth that Dean finally relented, collapsing onto the bench and starting to untie his boots.
“Geez, you two,” Seth sighed. “Chill out for a bit and we'll talk about it later, okay? Are we cool or what?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess so.”
Both answers were noncommittal enough to keep Seth's stomach in knots, but it was better than nothing. The three of them went about their routine in a tense silence, and even the car ride to the hotel was quiet but for the mumble of the radio. Seth tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel and fiddled with the rear view mirror, the knot in his stomach took residence in his throat for a while.
They'd get through it. They did before, and they'd do it again.
It was just a shame they were still too cheap to get more than one hotel room at a time.
Seth was lucky enough that it was his turn to have the bed this time. It meant that Dean and Roman had one less thing to fight about and would be equally as uncomfortable as the other in the morning. Dean never seemed to get much sleep even when he could, but nothing seemed to piss Dean off more than when Roman woke up way more refreshed than he did.
Roman settled on the chair in the corner, which Dean surprisingly didn't seem to mind. Dean would break the laws of physics just to spite people who had pissed him off. And so the brawler pulled the extra pillow and blanket out of the closet and set up a cramped mockup of a bed in the bathtub.
Seth, brushing his teeth in the sink, shot Dean a glance as he was curling up against the cool, white porcelain.
“Sure you're all right with that?” Seth asked, likely against better judgment. But it was in his nature to meddle. “Other stuff has to happen in here, you know.”
“You kidding?” Dean guffawed, pulling the shower curtain towards him. “Got a goddamn canopy even. Sleepin' like a king over here. I'm good. Go about whatever like normal, I ain't give a shit.”
Seth shook his head as Dean pulled the curtain completely back and blocked him off from the rest of the room. Seth considered doing his nightly business before bed, but he wasn't looking forward to pretending Dean wasn't there while trying to piss. He didn't have to go very much, anyway, but it was a habit he'd learned since he was a child.
He could skip it just once. Whatever. Seth just wanted to go to bed and get the day over with.
How easily he forgot.
The divorce was hard on him. Seth was already sort of high-strung to begin with, but his dad walking out was just too much on his psyche. It caused... problems. Problems that resulted in his bed being fitted with plastic liners for a while. Problems that were, technically, not terribly uncommon for his age at the time...
Problems that lasted all through high school, and even afterward. Seth had to blame more than one incident on being way more drunk than he ever actually got. The few weeks before he told his parents he wouldn't be finishing college resulted in him buying a new mattress and doing his laundry at a coin-op to keep the water bill from spiking.
Working out and wrestling spent his energy during the day well enough. But when it got down to it, Seth just couldn't go to bed without the pressures of life weighing heavily on his mind. He could talk about it until he was blue in the face, which he really didn't do very often anyway, but there was nothing he could do if he was stressed out.
Seth was a bedwetter. And nothing short of restricting his liquid intake for the last several hours before sleep could stop it.
Which was basically impossible with his current lifestyle.
Yet, despite this problem creeping up on him throughout his life, he still went to bed not remembering any of that. He had far too much on his mind. With Roman already snoring softly across the room and Dean relaxing in makeshift luxury, Seth nestled himself under the covers and quickly slipped into the pleasant contentment of sleep.
~
Warm.
The word was lightly stamped into Seth's subconscious as he remained firmly snuggled under the blankets. He didn't know what time it was, and didn't even think twice about it. He was relaxed, finally, after such a stressful day.
Warm. Comfy.
He actually sort of liked waking up a little bit in the early morning or late at night. There was something relaxing about knowing there was still plenty of time left to sleep. He could tell even without opening his eyes that it was still dark, and so he sunk further under the blankets and turned over onto his other side.
Cool. Cold...
Did the blankets come off of his legs? Maybe he was thrashing about in his sleep a bit. Nothing to worry about. He had been sort of anxious that night. He'd just have to shift the blankets back down.
Cold. Wet...?
Seth shot upright at the same moment his heart jumped into his throat.
He could barely see anything in the dark of the hotel room, every object little more than a blurry silhouette. All he could hear was the sound of his own ragged breath and Roman's soft snoring. And yet he could feel everything that had happened while he was sleeping.
Seth's sweatpants were completely soaked, down both legs and underneath him, the remains of a puddle reaching from his thighs up to his backside. Even the back of his shirt was damp. The mess was already cold, and his skin was sticky and starting to itch a little bit.
Seth felt his eyes begin burning, along with his cheeks. There was little on his mind but a long series of obscenities and one very loud and overarching question: What the fuck do I do?
Roman was still asleep, at least. Thankfully, he'd always been able to sleep through a good amount of noise. Seth briefly considered his options for hiding it from Roman. He could easily just cover it up with the comforter and pretend it never happened. There was no accounting for the smell, which wasn't terribly strong but it was still noticeable. Seth wished this hotel was a little less nice, for once, so he could blame the odor on a busted heater or something.
He checked his phone, finding it barely 4:00 am. The sun would be up fairly soon, and Roman would be up not so long after that.
Whatever. He'd figure that out later. As long as he covered it with blankets, Roman probably wouldn't spend long enough in the room to even care about the smell.
Then there was the problem with Dean. He wasn't content just to ask the front desk for a futon or a roll-away cot, no, he had to park his stubborn ass right in the shower. Seth couldn't exactly wash up without Dean noticing; even if he managed to accomplish it with the sink, it would make a fair amount of noise.
Fuck.
He'd have to try. There was no other choice.
Seth slid out of the bed, in the process becoming so much more aware of just how big of a mess he'd made of himself. His thighs were still soaked to the point of dripping down his legs, and he could see just well enough to find a massive wet spot on the sheets behind him. His heart sunk deeper into his chest, if it was possible. Seth tossed the covers over the wet patch and went to his suitcase. He pulled out whatever pairs of pants and underwear he could get his hands on first.
The bathroom door was opened just enough to see the light was still off. Seth winced as he tiptoed toward it, as the soaked fabric was rubbing against his crotch and thighs. He slipped in through the crack in the door and closed it, slowly, carefully, not pressing the lock in for fear of making more noise.
All was still and quiet in the few moments he paused at the doorway. He had to make sure that Dean wasn't awake, as sure as he could given the circumstances. Seth padded quiet against the tiles until he reached the sink. He let his clean clothes fall to the floor before stripping his shirt off. He turned the sink on, cringing as the handle squeaked when he turned it.
Seth shot a glance toward the shower again, and let out a breath as he observed the curtain remaining shut and still. He put his shirt into the sink under the running water and began untying his sweatpants when he suddenly heard the metal of the shower curtain scrape against the pole behind him. Suddenly he was bathed in a low, bluish light and his heart just about stopped.
He slowly turned his head, finding Dean sitting straight up in the bathtub, a book light clipped to the paperback in his hand.
So that's when the fucker finds time to read, Seth thought, his face starting to burn red-hot again. His next immediate thought, of course, was how he was going to spin this so Dean would forget about it and leave him alone. Maybe was drinking a Kill Cliff in bed and spilled it? Or he got warm under the covers and was sweating, but only in his crotch and upper thighs?
Fuck. There was no way he was getting out of this, no way he could live this down. How could anyone take him seriously after finding this out – especially his team?
“Guessin' you'll wanna use the shower,” Dean mumbled before Seth could utter out any pathetic excuse, pitching his pillow to the floor and letting his book fall onto it. Dean gathered up the blanket and clambered out of the tub a moment later.
Seth realized his jaw was hanging open and his eyes were filling with unspent tears. He turned away from Dean and leaned on the sink with both hands, swallowing hard.
“What?” Dean asked, as if this wasn't the most humiliating moment of Seth's life. “What's the problem, you all right?”
“N-Not really,” Seth sighed with a shudder in his throat. “I really.... didn't want anyone to know that this happens. Happened. Fuck.” He clamped his lips shut before the rest of his dirty little secrets started spilling out.
“Seth,” Dean sighed, softly, with far more empathy than he ever expected to hear from him. “Listen, all right? I've done way more fuckin' embarrassing shit than I care to list, you know all about that. Puerto Rico was a weird fuckin' time for me. And Peoria. And Jacksonville. The point is...” He moved toward Seth and put a hand on his shoulder, making him feel better and worse at the same time. “You 'n Roman ain't told nobody about the time you found me passed out next to a dumpster. I mean. You told 'em, but you ain't told 'em that my pants were soaked when you found me. So I owe ya both one.”
Seth swallowed down the lump in his throat and wiped his eyes, nodding. Dean nodded back, and bumped his forehead against Seth's cheek, which made it burn even hotter.
“Still,” Seth muttered, hoping Dean couldn't see just how brightly he was blushing. “I'd rather not the both of you know about this, okay? I'm embarrassed enough as is. I can cover the bed with the blankets, but Roman's gonna wake up to a real suspicious smell unless I can figure out a way to hide it.”
Dean paused for a moment, as if in deep thought, and then grinned in a very worrying manner. “You just get yourself cleaned up, all right, bud? I'll take care of Roman for ya.”
Seth nodded and smiled back, in spite of himself. The last person he expected to be sympathetic towards him was... well, this wild fucker. But he'd take it wherever he could get it at this point. And he could worry about whatever Dean was planning later, after he covered his own tracks.
Dean left the bathroom, finally allowing Seth to start stripping out of his wet clothes. He was just about to start the shower when he heard a familiar sound of liquid pattering against carpet from inside the hotel room proper.
Seth heard some stirring, and then Roman's voice get louder with every word he mumbled. “Dean...? Dean. Dean, wake up, what the fuck?!”
“... Huh?” he heard Dean reply. “Oh, uh... this ain't the bathroom, is it?”
“Oh my god,” Roman sighed, mirroring Seth's exact reaction.
Seth suddenly put his hand over his mouth to hide his snickering. It was odd, certainly unconventional. But maybe a little humiliation would calm their collective ego for the time being.