Chapter Text
Seth was lying.
That's what he does. He lies and cheats and steals to get what he wants. In any other situation, Dean might even admire the willingness to do what's needed despite consequences.
Any other situation but this one.
“You were never my brother! I never cared about you!” He yelled into the microphone, eyes locked and serious. But he was obviously lying. He had to be. How cold Dean love someone so much, so unconditionally, and not have it returned? He was a pretty good judge of character, and there was no way Seth Rollins hated him as much as he claimed. The authority had him brainwashed, that was the only logical explanation.
His Seth would never do this.
His Seth loved him.
His Seth was perfect.
His Seth was not some corporate asshole with a God complex.
He tried to prove it to him, so many times, vowing to stop him from cashing in that suitcase because he loved him; jumping him at every possible turn, because he loved him; all the promos, all the matches, all to make sure Seth didn't forget him, because he loved him.
Seth wasn't allowed to forget him.
He had to take more drastic measures this time, for Seth's own good. He had to show him he wasn't what they made him. He was the man Dean Ambrose loved, so he couldn't be...that.
He was surprisingly easy to take and Dean almost felt bad for hitting him in the back of the head with a broom handle.
Almost.
He almost felt bad for the duct tape.
Almost.
He almost felt bad for shoving him in the trunk of his car.
Almost.
He almost felt bad for driving to the middle of nowhere where they could be alone.
Almost.
But not really.
This was for Seth's own good and he would just have to understand that. Dean would MAKE him understand that, no matter how long it took, because Seth loved him. He had to, there was no other option. This was the last chapter in their story, and he was determined for it to be a happy ending.
He was still unconscious when Dean opened the trunk. Lying there helpless, he would look almost peaceful if it weren't for the duct tape wrapped around his wrists and ankles, or the strip covering his perfect mouth. He had to take a moment to admire the man, all muscles and tan skin accentuating the brain of a genius that peeked out behind eyes so dark they could be black. He was glad he took him while he was still in his ring gear so he could admire his form in a more familiar setting. That mop of brown hair particularly caught his attention, the blond streak almost gone. He wondered if Seth did that to try and distance himself from The Shield, but Dean had alway liked it and found himself missing it now. The fact that it was almost gone meant Seth wanted to forget. But He couldn't forget. He wasn't allowed to forget.
He knew nights around here would get cold, so he'd have to eventually give him something to cover his bare chest. For now, he could at least admire the Adonis tied up in his trunk.
He forgot how heavy Seth could be when he dragged the dead weight of his unconscious former brother up the three steps to the porch. The stairs creaked and moaned under every footfall, but that didn't bother Dean.
No one would hear them anyway.
Nobody questioned him when he bought the ramshackle cabin. It was believable enough for the reclusive Dean Ambrose to want to go off the grid for a while, find himself, be one with nature, and all that bullshit. Nobody questioned when he took some time off to find himself. Nobody questioned the fact that he would be miles from the nearest shread of civilization, that there was no cell service, that he would be surrounded by a great expanse of forest with no company but the birds and the bears and the wolves.
But he had company now.
He had laughed when Roman made a sideways comment akin to “but no one will be able to hear you scream.”
That was the point.
Seth Rollins would have no one but Dean to depend on. No one to help him. No one to care but the shattered love of a man with nothing else to lose because he had already lost it years ago.
Then he'd see what he meant to him.
Then he'd see.
He'd see and he'd know. Dean Ambrose would not be forgotten.