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The sound of things crashing down echoed loudly in the nearly deserted halls. Those that had the unfortunate luck to still be in the vicinity - mostly crew members and workers trying to clean up after the show - were startled by the many crashes and bangs that sounded. They all shot glances toward the source of the noise - a door that had been left nearly halfway open leading to a locker room belonging to one person no one wanted to face right now.
Bray let out a huff of frustration as his back hit the wall. He allowed himself to slide down until he was seated on the floor. He glowered out at the destruction around him, destruction that he’d caused in his fit of rage. He had been so close, so so close to winning but it had been once again snatched from him. His chance at the title, gone just like that. He kicked out at some random object, sending it skidding away from him as he hung his head and breathed.
“Damn and I thought I was the one that lost my temper,” A whistle sounds from the doorway, followed by a voice that makes Bray’s head snap up. Dean is leant up against the door frame, surveying the damage strewn around the room.
Bray chuckles, it’s a humorless sound and it draws Dean’s eyes to him. He doesn’t move from hi spot on the floor as Dean pushes on the doorway and comes fully into the room. The door is shut behind the dirty blond and he’s skirting the mess, dropping down to sit beside Bray with a sigh.
They sit in silent. Dean’s close enough that his shoulder brushes Bray’s own and Bray takes solace in that. He leans into Dean’s body slightly and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together. He lets his head fall until it’s resting against Dean’s shoulder and he breathes, allows all the frustration that he’d been feeling slowly ebb away and allow the serene calm to slow back in. Dean brings that out in him, a calmness. It’s ironic, seeing as Dean isn’t exactly the calmest of people. It’s more of the fact that he’s here than anything.
“You know,” Bray feels Dean’s lips brush his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as Dean speaks, “I would’ve loved to face you for the title. It’s always a pleasure to whoop your ass.”
Bray laughs now, amused. “I believe history would show that it was always I who came out victorious in a majority of our fights darlin’.” He can feel Dean’s grin in response and when he lifts his head, he sees it, a dimple showing bright ray of light that always brighten his world. He can’t help himself, has to lean in to capture those lips with his own.
Immediately Dean melts against him, free hand tangling in his hair. They end up falling over, Bray pushing until he’s got Dean flat of his back amidst the chaotic state of the room. They finally part for air and Bray braces himself above Dean, staring into those blue eyes that are nearly a perfect matching hue of his own. Eyes that are shining with promise and an affection so pure that he hadn’t seen it since Abigail’s time on this earth.
“You about ready to get out of here?” Dean asks, hooking his arm around Bray’s neck, pulling him down so their foreheads touch, “We should probably, before someone stumbles across this mess.”
Bray smiles then asks, “We? I thought you were going to be traveling with Shane and Bryan? They did ask you to so they could run some ideas past you.”
Dean shrugs.
“You don’t have to stay with me darlin’ I’m alright.” Bray starts to pull away but Dean’s hold on him tightens and he’s suddenly being kissed again, hungrily and with purpose.
When Dean pulls away, he’s scowling up at him, “You’re right, I don’t have to do shit. Now go get your shit and let’s get outta here. ‘M feeling really good tonight and maybe, just maybe, if you get me back to a hotel room, I might just let you take all that frustration you’re feeling out on me.” He smirks, licking his lips and arching just slightly up against Bray’s body.
Bray grins, pushing himself up and extending a hand out to Dean. When the blond takes it and he’s pulled him to his feet, Bray quickly retrieves his already packed bag and follows Dean out the room. “What about your stuff?” He asks as he intertwines his fingers with Dean’s again as they head toward the parking lot.
“Already in the truck.”