Chapter Text
Regal knows.
Seth and Dean agreed that shacking up together immediately was a bad idea. That much was easy, despite all the other impulsive decisions they’ve helped each other make since they met. Even with that sliver of responsible behavior, though, Regal knows. Based on the satisfied, demonic smirk he’s had ever since they had their little… date, Regal absolutely knows.
Of fucking course he does. Regal always knows more than he ought to. Seth’s not surprised, but it still makes him nauseous. Feels like somehow, his Lordship knows even more than he heard.
And Christ, he heard so much. Heard Seth whining, heard Dean pinning him down to the tile and wrecking him within an inch of his life.
Regal’s heaping praise on them this morning, but Seth’s struggling to pay attention, slipping in and out of focus. His Lordship found the two of them as early as possible and enticed them back into his office, just like before. The old man wants to keep their program going. He’s even higher on them now, even more keen to push them. Wants to make sure it’s nice and fresh in people’s memory so he can help them take it as far as possible, taking extra care to keep them both looking strong, to have them showcase each other whenever they can, since they’re so ‘good for each other.’
“But I beat him,” Seth looks up at Regal, fully aware it’s not that simple and pushing the issue anyway. For appearances, maybe. Something like that. “How do you book it from there?”
“That’s just the thing, lad— that’s what makes it worth watching. I think if we set this up right, you could beat each other over and over again, back and forth for as long as you care to imagine, and it would still be lovely damn near every time.” That dangerous smile peeks through again. It makes the old man’s eyes shine with amusement.
“I just… don’t want to rush things.”
Regal raises an eyebrow at him. They've already done plenty of rushing (and apparently, he knows that, too). That initial breakthrough came with a burst of… something that Seth didn’t quite recognize from himself. Some messy blend of honesty, stupidity, impulsivity. Something that had him adjust his resolve and his plans in favor of…
…No, it’s not that simple. It’s not exactly just… for Dean. Nothing has changed about his long-term plans or goals, he just had not planned on anything like this.
Seth flushes, fidgets in his seat and looks away. He catches Dean’s gaze instead as Regal starts talking again and that drags him down an entirely different rabbit hole.
Dean smiles at him— he already had a loose smile, but something happens to it when he looks over, and just like that, he can’t seem to listen to a word Regal’s saying.
Dean keeps doing that. Not just smiling, he was already doing that all the damn time; Specifically, he’s been smiling like that. It overrides Seth's concentration, cuts his strings and puts him into some kind of bubbly free-fall, makes him feel all light and stupid and unbothered when he ought to be focused —Plays him like a fucking fiddle. Even compared to how incorrigible he was before, Dean’s become infinitely more difficult to redirect (or resist) in what Seth figures must be record time.
But he doesn’t want to look away anymore. Can’t.
Look back at Regal while he’s still talking and pretend you heard the start of it.
“—no matter the outcome, it will always feel like a draw. Not played out or pointless, but like there has to be more after each bout you have. Like that’s the natural conclusion.”
“Why?”
Seth looks over at Dean curiously— it’s a fair question, certainly worth asking. Good thing Dean has an endless well of nerve and far less hesitation at his disposal than Seth. Dean’s eyes are fixed on Regal, body language all ironed out and uncoiled. Captivated. Regal gets him like this so easily. Seth’s noticed it quite a few times already. Makes him forget himself in a way he seems to be a little addicted to.
The old man rests his head in his hand, still smiling like a damn reptile. “Who can say?” He stands up, pats Seth on the shoulder on his way out and sighs. “We’ll just have to be grateful we found it.”
Regal shuts the door behind him and leaves them alone.
Seth takes a deep breath. It’s fine, everything’s fine. They've proven to Regal that they can reliably bottle whatever happens between them in the ring without killing each other, so there's no longer an imminent threat to his career hanging over his head. Everything’s more than fine.
He frowns. That should allow him to relax, but just like always, he still finds his thoughts sliding away from the present. He’s not worried about Dean, he just still feels this brand-new nagging sense of responsibility out of nowhere; something shouting at him to worry, to fuss and control things, but not what he should be worrying about. Like… if he just concentrates enough, he’ll be able to figure out some potential threat to the peace he finds himself cautiously relaxing into. Like he can manually avert it, as if that’s the only way he can keep this even a little longer.
He’s overthinking. He wants to be present, he wants to be happy, but instead, he's doing this. He knows it's a waste of time and energy and he feels fucking stupid for it. He wishes he had more of that directness Dean seems to bring to everything he does—
Except. Seth stops and his mind stays still for a rare moment.
Except dealing with Seth.
On the surface, it seems direct. He says and does things that feel direct, touches Seth with no hesitation, looks him right in the eye— he was doing that before Seth would let himself look at Dean at all.
But now he’s holding still again. That isn’t right. It didn’t feel right in the locker room and it doesn’t feel right now, either. By the time they crossed the threshold into each other’s personal space, Dean’s self-control felt so thoroughly frayed, absolutely thrilled to snap. But even then, it was slow; every last thread broke on command.
On Seth’s command.
He’s been chewing himself to pieces over Dean’s presence in his mind, about how much space and time he took up already, about how much he’s made Seth compromise or change course on, how Dean’s affected him and whether or not he should be letting that happen— that’s all been selfish. That’s all been bullshit.
Dean waits. He waits until Seth tells him what to do. What he’s allowed to do. What the rules are. That’s supposed to be Seth’s thing.
“Who said you were dismissed?”
Seth jumps and looks up at Dean, who is suddenly in front of him. He thought he would've noticed suddenly being eye level with Dean's crotch, but I guess that's more proof of zoning out than anything else. “I didn’t… go anywhere. I’m still here.”
“Nah, you went somewhere. I watched.” He holds out a hand. “Come back, no one said you could leave.”
Dean noticed him tying himself in knots trying to untangle something he doesn't understand. Seth studies him and feels something vaguely shameful bleed through his nervous system. None of this would have happened if Dean had just waited and respectfully kept his distance forever. Seth studies that smile before wrapping a hand around Dean’s wrist. “What are you gonna do?”
Dean cocks his head to the side. “What am I gonna do if…?”
He reaches up with his free hand, pulls Dean down to his level by the collar of his shirt. “If I leave anyway. You saying you’ll chase me?”
Dean’s eyes light up and Seth watches them go a little hazy, darting around his face. “Is that what you want?”
“I asked you first.” Seth lets himself smirk at the way he's flushing, tries to match some of the gorgeous edge he sees in Dean’s face so often, melts into the warmth coming off him a little bit. “You were asking me things a minute ago. That’s polite and all, but it’s starting to hurt my feelings.”He slides his fingers into Dean’s hair, around the back of his head. “Tell me to stay. You did it before, you can do it again.”
Seth hears Dean suck in a sharp little breath right before he kisses him. He laughs about it in his own mind, feels a swell of power at the prospect of shocking a creature like this. Seth wonders if his eyes are still open, but he only stays stunned for a second before he’s grabbing at Seth, pulling him onto his feet and as close to his body as possible.
Dean pulls back and grins, all playful again. “Regal told you, didn’t you hear him? He’s our boss, Rollins. C’mon, pay attention.” He turns Seth around and backs him up against the desk.
Seth leans back against it and loosely wraps a leg around Dean’s waist. “I don’t care what Regal says.”
“You weren't listening, bitch. What if he said he liked the look of your—”
Seth pinches his ass, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. “No more Regal. Tell me what you want.”
“How could you possibly still need this spelled out?” He breathes against Seth’s neck, laughs as he crumples. “I’d like to keep you, if you don't mind, and I want you to relax.” Seth stays silent, lets Dean take his hand and play with his fingers, watches him try not to look anything close to hurt. “Let me help you relax.”
Dean’s fingers creep up the back of his shirt, splayed wide. The door isn’t even locked, but Dean seems like he could care less. Seth glances at it, bit it stays perfectly still. “Someone’s gonna come.”
“Hey, slow down. I just wanna make out a little, wasn’t gonna make a mess or anything.”
“Dean. I’m not gonna—ahhh,” Dean’s breathing against his neck, making sure Seth can hear his voice behind it. It’s one of the things Dean does on a regular basis now, ever since he started compiling a list of ways to break Seth down into dizzy little pieces.
"He's— Dean, come on. Regal, or… Someone will—"
“Let them. More importantly, let me. The old man’s already seen way too much of you, but he can come too, I don’t care.”
“But—”
“Mm-mm. No whining, you started this. You started the other times, too, remember? I’ll try to remember it’s my turn next time, but just relax for me right now." He says it all so simply, so casually. "Can you do that?"
Dean's licking into his mouth, Dean's kneading his ass. Dean's cradling his face. Dean's touching him like he has some reason to believe he might not get another chance, like Seth will randomly decide he’s over this any day now, out of nowhere, for no goddamn reason, with no hesitation or remorse. Worse, it’s like he thinks that’d be… fair, or something. Valid, understandable. A reasonable response to his presence, to his attention.
And that’s Seth’s fault, isn’t it? He’s not in the habit of just letting anything happen to him, but… that’s clearly been a mistake on his part. He needs to get out of the way of this before he fucks things up spectacularly.
Dean's only playing right now, after all. He knows before he even opens his eyes that Dean’s waiting in a polite little holding pattern, still giving Seth a chance to actually stop him. Showing that he can listen, showing that he will if asked. Seth knows he could stop in his tracks with a word; now he has to work on getting him to take liberties.
How did he fucking get here again? Something crackles in Seth's chest and he nods before he has the change to overthink things for once. “Yeah… alright.”
Dean doesn't exactly make a noise, but his breathing shifts, feather-light and gentle. "You sure?"
“Mmhmm… Since you still need it spelled out.”
Dean grins, eyes sparkling, and Seth slides into a pouty, flustered sort of state while his face and neck are peppered with kisses. He reddens and whines in protest, but makes no attempt to push Dean away. Maybe he doesn't need to worry about anything, just this once. He shivers, and just like always, there's something brand new to process before he can think through the matter at hand. For once, though, the distraction doesn't come from Dean.
This time, it’s the click of the door opening.