#so one of my coworker resigned and it's likely me and another person will inherit her workload

[avaetin]

I posted early this week an update because I was like, "You know what? This week will suck, but I'm going to start it right."

Sunday Ava... you delulu AF to think it gets better.

[dickwheelie]

heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

_______________

All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Not Your Sugar

*Hamilton Fic, No Pairing

*Request: @musicgoddessog asked: Can you do a Hamilton fic with a black reader where the reader is Hamilton’s cousin from the Caribbean and she goes with him to a cabinet meeting. Everyone doubt her, but it turns out she’s really smart. I feel like not many people write black x readers for this fandom even though the cast is full of minorities.

*Warnings: Swearing, I think. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: Sorry this request took me so long, for a while it was really hard to come up with anything that would do it justice. I changed the prompt a bit, instead of a cabinet meeting, Reader goes with Hamilton to a meeting with Jefferson and Madison. SO I WENT TO EDIT THE TAGS ON THE APP AND GUESS WHO ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ENTIRE POST HAHA THANKS TUMBLR VERY COOL

Outfit

**********

You’d been planning this trip to New York for a while now. It’d been years since you’d been able to see your cousin and his family, and you were excited. Alexander had been constantly talking to you about all the bullshit he’d been going through at work, and you couldn’t wait to give your two-cents to Alexander’s coworkers. Well, as much as you could without getting him fired. You were actually confident that you could get away with a lot considering how much you knew Alexander undoubtedly got away with at work. The second you landed at JFK, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement overtaking you. 

Once you dealt with all the nonsense of going through customs, Alex and Eliza got you from the airport. The last time you’d seen them had been at their wedding, and now you were greeted by their little nine-year-old son. You couldn’t believe how much time had passed, but that didn’t matter now. You were here for about a month and you already had so much that you needed to do. Sure you were going to have fun while you were here, but you were also determined to get something done in the meantime.

You were looking forward to hanging out with Alexander and his family, but you were pleasantly surprised by the group waiting for you at their house. Eliza planned a welcome party for you, inviting Alexander’s close friends and her sisters, all people you hadn’t seen since the wedding nine years ago. You got along well enough with everyone, especially Eliza’s older sister. Both of you worked in the public sphere; Angelica lobbying for interest groups, and you working as a representative in the government. 

The two of you were in a passionate discussion about representation in your respective governments. You were one of the four women in the National Assembly of St. Kitts and Nevis, and even though there were only fifteen members of the Assembly, representation was still a major issue in your book. As you and Angelica were talking, it seemed like one of Alexander’s friends - John, if you remembered correctly - was drawn to your conversation. It wasn’t all that surprising; Alexander and a lot of his friends were very political beings, so a conversation about politics was bound to grab someone’s attention.

John stood nearby, waiting for the conversation to come to a natural lull before addressing you. “So, how do you know so much about politics? Is it a hobby or something?” John asked, the sincerity in his voice slightly taking you off-guard. Sure, you were used to the casually ignorant comments from people who weren’t really well-versed in politics, but it was new coming from someone who had such a politically active group of friends. Angelica in particular didn’t like John’s comment, already shooting him a fatal glare.

“I’m actually a member of the National Assembly,” you explained. John immediately read the room, feeling the slight tension coming from you and the definite tension coming from Angelica.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Alexander talks about you a lot but he never told us what you do for a living,” John apologized profusely. His apology seemed genuine enough, so you decided to let it go. It wouldn’t do anyone good for you to tear John a new one for something he seemed to genuinely not be aware of. No, you could save that for people that were ignorant, and then assholes about it.

**********

The first week was spent sight-seeing, primarily with Eliza and little Philip since Alex was so busy with work. You absolutely adored the two, but you were eager to go to work with Alex and see how his government worked on the inside. You had a feeling he was waiting for things to calm down a bit at work, because if there was one thing you shared with Alexander, it was your temper.

You’d just come back to the Hamilton household from another day of sightseeing with Philip and Eliza when you heard Alexander practically yelling on his phone. Eliza immediately sent Philip to his room, so you could tell this wasn’t the first time work had followed Alex home. Then again, if you worked in politics, you never really got to leave work at work. You could only imagine how it was for Alexander.

Once Philip was back in his room, you and Eliza made your way to Alexander’s office. Alex looked like he was two seconds away from murdering whoever was on the other end of the phone call. Eliza gave you a look that let you know this definitely wasn’t the first time this had happened. Alexander shot you both a pained look, as if either of you’d be able to stop whatever the person on the other end was saying. He finally hung up with an exaggerated sigh, spinning in his chair to fully face you and Eliza. Eliza went and sat on the arm of his desk chair, wrapping her arms around him. “What happened this time?”

“Madison and Jefferson are trying to block the bill I’m backing,” Alex whined as he rested his head on Eliza’s chest. “Now Washington wants me to have a meeting with them to try and compromise.”

“Were you yelling at Washington?” Eliza asked. Alex nodded, a glum look on his face. “Alexander, you know there’s only so much he’ll tolerate from you. You’re going to have to go to this meeting.”

“It’s not like going to this meeting will end up any different than the cabinet meetings. They’ll just end up ganging up on me and no progress will be made,” Alex complained.

“I can mediate if you need me to,” you offered. “You won’t be outnumbered that way, and as long as it’s public information, you won’t get in trouble, right?”

“That’s actually not a terrible idea. I’ll probably have to clear it with Washington, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it,” Alex said, looking at you. “Promise you’ll behave though?”

“I know for a fact you never do, why should I?” You questioned with a raised brow. “We’re Hamiltons, Alex, it’s not like it’s in our nature to behave.” The thing was, you could tell exactly why Alexander was telling you to behave. It was the exact same reason you’d always been told to behave as you were growing up. While your cousin definitely inherited the light skinned genes in your family (definitely from his father), you got the black genes. People always tended to look down on you with your dark skin and curly hair. Throw that in with the fact that you were a woman, and you always had to ‘behave’ if you wanted to be taken seriously. You could easily challenge Alexander on stuff like this, but with other people it was a bit more difficult. You weren’t stupid, you knew how these things worked.

Alexander let out a resigned sigh, knowing his words of caution wouldn’t be able to stop you like he would have preferred. The thing was, you were willing to hold your tongue to keep your cousin out of trouble, but the second someone disrespected or underestimated you, all hell would break loose. “Just please don’t get me fired,” Alex told you after a few more seconds.

“I’ll try my hardest not to get you fired,” you promised, trying to hold in your excitement at finally being able to go with Alexander to work.

**********

It only took a few days for Washington to clear you for the meeting, and before you knew it, you and Alexander were on your way to the White House. After you got your security pass, Alexander led you through the halls of the building. He was going through the ‘rules’ for you, each of which you took with a grain of salt. If anything, you were way better behaved on your worst days than Alexander would ever be, so it wasn’t like he could give you any advice that was actually worthwhile.

“Okay, and most importantly, don’t let me get into a fight with Jefferson. I’ve already hit him once and I feel like Washington won’t let it slide this time,” Alexander explained as you reached the conference room.

“I don’t think I let it slide the last time, Hamilton,” someone said, walking up behind you. Alex immediately straightened his posture, so you were pretty sure you knew who was behind you. That wasn���t even considering the conversation he intervened in.

“Mr. President,” Alexander greeted. You turned, and sure enough, the President was standing right behind you, a few Secret Service agents standing a few feet back. 

“Secretary Hamilton. Representative Hamilton, I presume?” Washington said, holding his hand out to you.

“President Washington, it’s an honor. Thank you for letting me come in to work with Alexander,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Of course. From where this conversation was going, I can see that Hamilton needs supervision for the meeting.” You almost missed Washington’s dry humor, not expecting something like that right from the start. From everything you’d heard about the President, he was a very serious man.

“He’s needed my supervision since we were kids,” you decided to joke back. You heard Alexander’s small noise of protest from beside you, but you were more focused on the slight chuckle Washington gave in response. You felt a small burst of pride, and you could immediately tell why Alexander always wanted to make Washington proud, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“If you don’t mind, Representative Hamilton, I’d like to have a word with Secretary Hamilton before the meeting.” You nodded, knowing Alex was probably going to get a set of rules similar to the one he was trying to give you.

“Of course. I’ll see you inside, then,” you told Alex, placing a hand on his shoulder. Alex nodded, but you could already feel the tension in him. You took one last look at the two before entering the conference room, shocked to find the other members of the meeting already sitting there. They paused mid-conversation and just stared at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Sorry, sugar, we have this conference room booked for a very important meeting in a few minutes,” one of them addressed you as if he were talking to a child. You recognized him from the news, and the magenta tie he was wearing just gave it away even more. Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson. You couldn’t help but immediately arch a brow at his use of the pet name.

“I’m not-”

“Unless you’re Hamilton’s secretary, then you're more than welcome to join us until Hamilton arrives. I heard he hired a new one, but I haven’t had the chance to see who it was until now,” the other man - who you could only presume to be James Madison - directed the last part to Jefferson, only momentarily addressing you. Jefferson immediately perked up at the prospect of you being a secretary.

“Oh, are you? I could really use some coffee then, sweetheart.” Again with the pet names. You couldn’t help the slight frown that already threatened your cool façade.

“I’m not Hamilton’s secretary, and the whole coffee thing sounds more like something an assistant would do as opposed to a secretary,” you replied, tone icy. “Though I don’t suppose you’d see the difference, since they’re both traditionally female roles.”

“So, then, who are you?” Madison asked, choosing to ignore your sass. You were glad Madison asked, because if Jefferson threw one more pet name at you, you were sure you’d end up throwing a punch. It wasn’t difficult to see why Alexander didn’t like Jefferson; Jefferson was just so condescending with every word that left his mouth.

“I am Representative Hamilton of the National Assembly of St. Kitts and Nevis.” The formal introduction with your full title was always a power move. You straightened your back, looking both men directly in the face. Madison couldn’t look you in the eyes, eyes darting everywhere to avoid yours, as he took out a handkerchief to cough into. Jefferson, on the other hand, just had an amused little smirk on his face and a glimpse of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes. It was like he’d roped you into playing his game without even knowing what the game was just yet.

“Okay, sugar-”

“Not your sugar,” you immediately cut Jefferson off. “I’m here to mediate the meeting between the three of you, so it would do you well to behave professionally, Secretary Jefferson.”

“I can definitely see how you’re related to Hamilton,” Madison muttered. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes; it probably wouldn’t help Alex if you antagonized the people he was supposed to come to an agreement with. Before anyone could annoy anyone else further, the door to the conference room opened.

“Sorry I’m late, President Washington wanted to talk to me outside,” Alex said, closing the door behind him. He looked at the group in front of him, and immediately sensed that something bad had happened in the whole five minutes he’d been talking to Washington. “(Y/n), what happened?”

“Secretary Jefferson here decided to call me pet names, and then Representative Madison made the assumption that I’m your new secretary,” you explained, going to take a seat across from the two in question. Alexander quickly masked his shock as he took the seat next to you. With the drop of his binder on the table, you knew it was time. “Right then, gentlemen, shall we begin this meeting?”

**********

The meeting was pretty standard as political affairs go, although there were the occasional personal jabs from both sides. There was a lot of back and forth, with no real progress being made either way. Whenever you could tell Alex was getting too heated, you placed a hand on his arm to keep him grounded. During a particularly nasty bout, you couldn’t help but reel in disbelief at Jefferson’s words.

“I don’t understand why you’re pushing so hard for this. You know it’s just going to increase the deficit further. Shouldn’t you actually care about what’s going on in our budget, Secretary of the Treasury?” Jefferson questioned, an obvious jab. Alex was about to say something, but you just held your hand out to stop him.

“No, I’ve got it,” you said. “Secretary Jefferson, I don’t know how to explain to you that you should have compassion for others. This is a bill for healthcare reform, for God’s sake. And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but both of your state’s constituents would greatly benefit from this bill. To be honest, I’d expect a movie villain of some type to attempt to block a bill that would help those who are the most financially and medically vulnerable, but I’m watching this stereotypical plot unfold right in front of me. It’s sickening.”

 The silence that flooded the room was almost suffocating, no one expecting that outburst. You could feel the heat flooding your face as you found yourself the center of attention, but you didn’t regret it one bit. It was a matter of humanity at this point, and you couldn’t even believe that this topic was up for discussion, let alone debate.

After your outburst, the rest of the meeting proceeded without (too many) further arguments. It seemed like Jefferson and Madison needed that scolding to come to their senses. When the meeting finally ended, there hadn’t been much progress, but there was slight progress in Alexander’s favor. You and Alex left the conference room, already talking about plans for lunch since the meeting took so long.

“Representative Hamilton, wait!” Jefferson called out from behind you. You and Alexander paused, turning to see Jefferson quickly approaching the two of you.

“Secretary Jefferson,” you acknowledged, still irritated with his attitude during the meeting.

“I have to admit, the way you held yourself in that meeting was incredible. I’ve met few people that can hold their own like that. Would you like to grab a drink with me later?” You looked over at Alex, who seemed to barely be keeping it together. You, on the other hand, saw your opening to get back at him for all the little condescending comments he made, the pompous way he held himself, everything that made you dislike him within minutes of meeting him.

“I’d rather be in another hurricane,” you replied with the most sincerity you could manage. You heard Alexander choke on air beside you.

“I beg your pardon?” Jefferson asked.

“Then beg. C’mon, sugar, I thought you’d be smarter than to ask out someone you just spent the past few hours patronizing.” That time Alexander couldn’t hold in his laugh. With a tight-lipped smile, you turned on your heel and proceeded to walk down the hall, Alexander following close behind.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @spidey-pal 

[safty]

To the Rescue (Part II) Chapter 29: View From Below

New chapter is here, still no updates on this Ao3 scandal but I’m holding off on reposting the whole thing because it’s so much damn work.

Seth contemplates his new job and meets with Cesaro. What’s going on under the radar? 

Striding fast out of P-pool and getting halfway to the front lobby was all the time if took for Seth to stop for a moment, thinking hard on what had just happened. To stall for time, he aimlessly turned left, walking toward the adult men's locker rooms and keeping his gaze forward.

Hunter and Stephanie had offered him a more permanent position. Salaried. But Seth didn't have the details yet. As of right now, nothing was certain. Though he was sure he wasn't going to pack up and move within the week or probably even over April, but it was difficult to say how much time he'd spend in Orlando is his grandfather's estate was finalized and Roman and Dean miraculously agreed to leave. Would it be a terrible thing to do? To be promoted and leave his bosses high and dry?

Pushing the door open to the men's locker room and walking to one of the bathroom stalls, Seth thought immediately to the massive amount of money that made up his inheritance. He didn't want to assume anything at that point, but still, he was pretty sure his resume wouldn't be nearly as important if he had that money. It was tempting to let his mind wander wildly to a much more relaxed state of being, but he reeled himself back in, biting his lip.

For now, Seth had to be smart. His heart was still beating fast from the excitement of the meeting but he took a deep breath and plopped down to sit on a toilet, just to steady himself. It was a good thing his boss wanted to promote him, he could use more money. At the end of the day, he probably would take the job. It was just another thing Seth didn't want to talk about yet, not until he knew what was happening. He sighed hard as the person in the stall next to him flushed the toilet and walked away, sure that he didn't want to hide everything that was happening in his life from his boyfriends, but he didn't want to feel stupid for taking a job and then completely dumping it if he was going to be moving.

It was too much to consider and automatically, Seth whipped out his phone and found Cesaro's contact info. It had been ages since the men had talked, but it was at least worth a shot. Sure that he didn't want to have a phone conversation in a toilet stall, Seth got back up again and quickly texted his friend before he made his way to the sink for the sake of habit.

Hey man are u busy this weekend? Its been a bit he typed out, quickly pressing send and feeling marginally better. Cesaro was a neutral party, and it helped that he wasn't currently at work, present for all the other dramatic minutiae of such a large facility.

"Eyes forward! Coming through!" Miz bellowed as Seth nearly walked into him. He started, quickly side stepping out of the way as his annoying coworker strutted past him, rolling a huge container of floatables down the hallway at a questionable speed. Seth's knee twinged slightly and he put his phone in his pocket, resigned to finish his power scrubbing duties before the late afternoon rush came and swim lessons got hectic. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the day's events of the sheer absurdity of it, but when Seth went down to the basement mop sink and found Dean crouching by it, he probably sounded more curt than he meant.

"What are you doing?" Seth scoffed, watching his boyfriend sit on the dirty lip of the mop sink and fidget mindlessly with one of the peeling stickers on the front of the power scrubber. Cool as ever, Dean barely reacted, toes wiggling in his flip flops and eyebrows invisible under his hair.

"You weren't outside earlier, it's hot anyways," he mumbled. "Kev said you were doin' this or somethin'."

"I was… about to start," Seth muttered, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. At least for the moment, they were alone in the stuffy, partially lit room. "I was in the bathroom…"

"Mmm," Dean said, standing up and moving aside so Seth could access the machine. It was totally weird, but if Dean wasn't smoking anymore, there really wasn't any reason for him to wander around outside in the heat of the sun. Taking his time to grab the cleaning solution and measure out a cup as Kevin had showed him, Seth wondered if Dean might have had something on his mind. His head was still buzzing about his job, but Seth was still sure that he didn't want to discuss it at the moment. Among other things.

"I might have to guard in the park in the evenings," Dean said, pouting a little and picking up a mop handle that was hanging from the wall. "Randy said they needed another hand… Unless they hire someone else after the fundraiser or somethin'."

Seth hummed, setting down the bottle of solution and analyzing the water level on the machine. "Suppose we'll have to take two cars?" He proposed. "Uce's been kinda going out of his way anyways. To pick us up I mean."

"Yeah," Dean said, facing the wall and kicking a small rock that was on the floor. Seth rolled up his sleeves and wiped his brow. He didn't really want to be in the basement, but he couldn't really take five in the breakroom with the work he still had to finish. Dean paused as well, as though he wasn't really sure what to say or how to say it. The conversation was pretty meaningless, but there was something hanging in the air, out of their reach.

"You notice anything about Uce lately?" Dean asked, clearing his throat a little mid sentence like it was dry. Seth paused, pushing back a length of frizzy hair that couldn't quite fit in his bun.

"Like what?" He asked, thinking hard and feeling anxious. "Did something happen over Easter?"

"Just… been drinking and stuff," Dean said, not facing Seth. "Don't wanna be a cop about it… just. I dunno if I'm supposed to worry or say somethin'."

Seth thought for a moment, thinking back to when he'd come across his boyfriends in January, after his last trip to Iowa. Back then, both of his boyfriend's had been in a much more difficult headspace, but Roman's drinking had been the most frustrating. Of the three, Roman probably drank the most on a regular basis. Where Dean could probably out drink him with beers on a single night, Roman was much more inclined to drink habitually. It was something they'd discussed before, but with everything going on in his life at the moment, Seth had barely processed it. He'd also made a fool of himself with alcohol on the houseboat anyway, so he didn't feel like he had much ground to stand on and preach.

"I don't care," Dean said quickly, shrugging and turning to put the mop handle back on the hook. "It's not a big deal."

"It's not like, healthy." Seth said, crossing his arms and looking at Dean. It was perplexing to see his boyfriend engaged where he might have usually been disconnected, but Seth didn't want to discourage it. "Did he drink a lot over Easter?"

"We kinda all did, I dunno," Dean said, looking at the ground. "Forget I mentioned it, it's fine."

"Nah, I mean..." Seth sighed, really wishing they could get out of the basement and back into air conditioning. The air was thick and the light kept flickering. "Let's just… keep an eye on it. He doesn't seem stressed out or anything, does he?"

"I don't think so," Dean said, shrugging again. He blinked and licked his lips, as though trying some sort of script. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine," Seth said, unable to stop himself from chuckling. "How're you?"

"'M fine," Dean said, blinking. He grinned a little and Seth came closer, sure that he'd hear any footsteps from a distance. The light flickered again and Dean wet his lips like he was anticipating something.

"Wish I didn't learn my lesson," Seth muttered darkly, squeezing Dean's thigh and planting a kiss on his matted forehead. His work shirt was sticking to him strangely with sweat, but Dean looked soft and happy. "Get outta here and let me do my job, Ambrose."

"Okay Rollins," Dean said, snarking his name and bouncing onto the balls of his feet again. In his pocket, Seth felt his phone buzz and he pawed it through his pants, sure it was just a text. Dean made a kissing noise as he hopped away at a light jog and Seth took a moment to let him go, sure that he didn't want Kevin or Hunter, or worse AJ, seeing them leaving secluded areas together.

How about tonight? Cesaro texted him back. I'm busy the next few days with PT and Sara :)

Seth smirked, wiping sweat from his forehead and listening as the water heater turned on, humming loud from the boiler room. It was too easy to imagine Cesaro's ridiculously sweet expression, thinking of his new girlfriend. It had been ages since they'd seen each other and Seth really wanted to go out with his friend. But in a hurry, he recalled the discussion that Seth had had with Dean and Roman the night before about possibly going to a gym. Nobody had mentioned it that morning… but Dean had definitely seemed alert enough to workout after their shift.

In the service elevator to the top floor, Seth's phone buzzed again and he looked down, feeling his heart rate ratchet up again with a text from his mother. The elevator dinged and he sighed hard, pushing the scrubber through the doors and flush with the wall so he could examine his phone.

Did you get the executor notices? Let me know ASAP! Love mom

Yes Seth texted back quickly, feeling enormously guilty for leaving his mother out of the loop, and yet unable to properly explain his reasoning. Back in Iowa, his mother was probably waiting for him to get his shit together, unable to proceed without his own consent for the operation. However, his paranoia dug at him again and he thought morbidly to the idea of his family trying to take his money in the fine print of the will. But as soon as he considered it, Seth blinked hard, trying to assess his fears honestly. He'd never imagined a time in his life where he couldn't trust his mother, but with so much money on the line, Seth wasn't sure if he could trust anyone.

I think I want to get a lawyer or something, just so I know what I'm looking at Seth messaged back. Or I want to call that lawyer we talked to, Is his number on all those documents?

It was a rather stupid question as Seth could just check his email, but he was at work anyway and obviously neglecting his duties by dividing his attention. Down the hall he could hear a group of very small children singing songs and yelling, their voices echoing off the hallways. There was still lots to do, and he pocketed his phone fast and dug in. As he walked fast behind the power scrubber, leaning into the machine and doing his best not to slip in the slight trail of moisture, Seth considered the holes in his knowledge and his mental state since he'd returned. Of all the things he wanted to do that night, a meeting with Cesaro sounded best. Seth desperately needed to hash this out and tell someone about what was happening.

Yes it is His mother replied to his text, after he checked it about twenty minutes later. Call him as soon as you can.

Okay thanks mom Seth responded, immediately returning to his conversation with Cesaro and looking around tentatively. Yeah lets make tonight work.

Seth felt a little guilty for flaking out on his boyfriends, but the more he texted Cesaro in the lead up to their meeting, the more he was sure of his decision. During the time he dumped the water from the power scrubber and changed out of his work uniform, the two men messaged each other back and forth over the phone. Apparently, Cesaro was trying to be frugal in between hanging out with Sara, but had a turkey loaf he was interested in sharing if Seth wanted to stay for dinner.

Re-tying his bun and making his way to the front, Seth pursed his lips as he saw Dean perk up from where he was sitting in the lobby. Sunglasses already fixed to his face, he shuffled to his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"I bet Uce's gym'll be all busy since it's big," he began without any hesitation. "My place'll be good if you want. I just wanna grab a bite quick."

"Yeah, about that," Seth said, hastening through the door his boyfriend was holding open. The day was unbearably hot and as soon as they were outside, it was a race to get to the Jeep. "I uh… I was texting Cesaro and the only time we could hang out would be tonight… so I think I'm gunna take a raincheck."

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Man, I was getting all jacked to lift..."

"You can still go," Seth snorted, eagerly tossing his bag into the hatchback and tossing his body inside. "I just… I haven't seen him in forever."

"What's up?" Roman asked from the front seat, snacking from a bag of pumpkin seeds that was sitting in his lap. Dean mumbled something inaudible and Seth tilted the backseat fan grid toward his face, feeling shivers down his spine. If his boyfriends were going to be mad at him, Seth wasn't going to hear about it. They only saw each other constantly.

"I'm gunna go see Cesaro tonight for dinner," Seth explained. "I know we like… talked about doing something, but the only time we can meet this week is tonight… so. What with his doctor shit and the fundraiser on friday."

"Mmmmm," Roman hummed, looking behind him in order to make sure they weren't about to be clipped by a passing vehicle. "Suit yourself."

"I prolly will go workout… do something," Dean said quietly, looking through the window. The rest of the car ride was a little awkward and no one talked much as they idled in traffic for a few minutes.

Im home now, come over whenever you'd like Cesaro texted him. Seth stared out of his own window, trying to think of the best way to get to his friends house and if he had any gas in the tank of the Cadillac.

A quick shower and a change, and Seth deliberately tried to keep out of his boyfriend's way, skirting around the area of the living room where Dean plopped down, and not making eye contact with Roman in the kitchen as the man was staring into the fridge, pensively. Tossing on a snapback and sliding his phone and wallet in the back pocket of a pair of cargo shorts, Seth thought he could hear his boyfriend's talking from the other room. But instead, he focused on his dog, who seemed confused about the lack of affection he was receiving now that Seth was home.

"Need to buy chicken feed this weekend," Roman was saying to Dean as Seth walked past. "You think you could get some at the farmers market?"

"Mmyeah, just remind me or somethin'." Dean mumbled, watching Seth's progress to the shoes. He hated how awkward it felt. Couldn't he leave the house without feeling like he was in trouble?

"Have fun," Roman mumbled, gesturing to Seth with his beer and striding over to send him off. Kevin jingled around the entryway as though he was going for a walk and Seth nodded quickly, letting Roman kiss him on the cheek.

"I won't be long," Seth said, waving to Dean. "See you guys."

It wasn't enough to put him in a bad mood, but Seth hated feeling like he was in the wrong. Dean's face as he left hadn't been particularly mopey or annoyed, and Seth was sure that the man's evening would be just fine without acting on whatever lose plans they'd discussed. Of the three, Seth felt safe in assuming that he was having it the hardest at the moment and when he finally got around to explaining the situation, the other two would surely understand.

"Too fuckin' hot," he griped to himself, wiping his forehead and hating how obscenely warm his vehicle was, cooking in the sun all day. As Seth drove toward the highway in the direction of Cesaro's condo, he thought more and more about how nice it would be to live in the Midwest again, seeing the trees change and wearing light sweaters.

Nearly there he texted at a red light, almost taking a wrong turn as he forgot the pattern of the strange labyrinth that was Cesaro's neighborhood. Just as he was rolling up to the visitor parking area, Seth swore out loud, remembering that he'd had a gift for his friend from his vacation. The bag of coffee was still sitting in his bedroom, tossed onto the dresser after he'd hurriedly unpacked.

However, It didn't matter as he saw his friend, eagerly awaiting his arrival by the front door to the condominium. Seth didn't have a lot of friends in his life, and he had even less that seemed wholly unperturbed to go so long without contact without a shred of awkwardness. Cesaro was the exception, totally cool to pick up wherever they had left off.

"What's up?" Seth called, locking his car and watching Cesaro shuffle his weight between his two feet awkwardly. His friend was wearing a pair of mesh workout shorts and a tank top with his arm in a sling, smiling as wide as ever.

"Oh not much," Cesaro said, quickly opening the front door and letting Seth inside. "Trying my best not to melt."

"It's abysmal," Seth agreed, relieved to feel the air conditioning inside. It was the same neat, tidy and minimal space Seth had always seen it. Zoe the cat was laying on her back in front of an oscillating fan and the house smelled like the promised turkey loaf.

"It has been a very lazy day," Cesaro said, shutting the door and shuffling to the living room. "I will read a book until I get stir crazy from sitting, then I think of taking a walk, but then it is so disgusting out... " he sighed, looking to Seth with honest adoration. "Thank you for coming, how have you been?"

"Okay, it's no problem!" Seth nodded, sitting down as Cesaro went to presumably grab him a drink. He talked louder so he could be heard. "It's been forever, plus… I mean, I nearly went crazy when I was stuck at home with my knee. I get it."

"But how was the trip?" Cesaro called, returning in a moment with a glass of ice water. Gratefully, Seth took it, thinking hard. He hadn't told his friend anything yet. "When did you get back?"

"We were done in the Keys last week," Seth said, blinking hard and trying to remember. He threaded his fingers through his beard, thinking of the best way to explain all of it. "But… literally right as I was getting off the boat, I got this crazy text from my mom about how my grandpa died…" Cesaro's eyes widened and Seth heaved a breath, nodding. "Yeah… so I literally came back here, flew to Iowa and went to the funeral over Easter and then I was back on Tuesday."

"That's terrible," Cesaro said, fixing Seth with a look of concern. "I was a little puzzled that you did not text me… but I have been preoccupied as well."

"Yeah, no, obviously nothing personal," Seth said, clearing his throat. "I'm still just like… reeling from all of this, it's so crazy."

"How close were you with your grandfather?" his friend asked. Seth drank from his water and tried to relax a little. He felt more anxious than anything, but was sure he needed to go through this conversation with someone.

"Not as much as I would have liked recently," Seth admitted, setting down his glass and picking his fingernails. "When I was really little he was like another parent, but I think I might have told you about his memory problems… once I moved away and his wife died, he sort of spiraled I guess."

"That's a shame," Cesaro said, sympathetic. "I had to really make sure to see my grandparents when I went back home. They are getting very old now so I am always worried something similar will happen where I am far away and they pass away."

"It sucked," Seth concluded, "I loved him a lot, but now we're dealing with his estate and it's a huge, complicated fucking mess."

Just saying a summarization of the matter felt relieving and Seth sighed hard as Cesaro nodded, patting the sofa and trying to encourage Zoe to join him on the furniture. The cat just stared, unable to comprehend the request.

"You have a large family all vying for his things?" Cesaro asked, looking to him seriously. Seth shook his head.

"No… uh… it turns out my grandpa had a small fortune and basically left it all to me if I take over his property." Seth said, nodding hard as Cesaro's eyes widened. "Yeah, right?"

"Well, that is maybe a good problem?" Cesaro laughed. "No one in your family is mad about that?"

"I don't know, but it's definitely freaked me out." Seth said hurriedly, slumping back in his chair. Cesaro often made him feel like he was at a doctor's office. "I have no idea when I have to leave here and move in, and I really don't want to leave Roman and Dean." He pushed his hat back, running his hands through his still damp hair and closing his eyes. "I feel like… they'd freak out if I told them or maybe… I don't know…" Seth wet his lips. "Money is the worst."

"You have not told them?" Cesaro asked, eyes widening further. Seth just shook his head again, feeling stupid.

"How the fuck would you tell someone that?" Seth asked, gesturing to the air. "Okay, what if you like, won the lottery and a house. What do you think would happen if you told your girlfriend?"

"Well," Cesaro laughed hard, turning pink. "It would change things, yes."

"Yeah, and like, Roman's just starting school again and Dean's doing this knitting thing on the weekends now. Oh-" Seth pointed at his friend, smiling anxiously. "And fuckin' Hunter wants to promote me. Offered me a job today."

"Do you want it?" Cesaro asked, incredulous. Seth's just raised his arms in the air wildly.

"I don't know! Nothing makes any sense! I think I could maybe deal with this stuff over the course of a year maybe, but like, what the fuck am I supposed to do when it happens all at once?" He laughed nervously again, watching as Cesaro sighed, drinking from his water, deep in thought. "Like, no matter what I do, I'm pretty sure it's all going to fall to shit. They don't wanna leave here… Roman's family is all… weird… I don't know."

"You have a lot on your plate," Cesaro agreed. The alarm for the oven dinged loudly and his friend eased himself onto his tall legs again. "There certainly is not a guarantee of anything, but I think it is obvious that this is very difficult. You do not think your boys will be understanding?"

"Roman'll probably lose his mind," Seth said flippantly, following his friend into the kitchen. "I dunno about Dean. Lately he's been a lot more talkative and stuff, but he's still… like…"

"Volatile?" Cesaro laughed. Seth just shrugged, helping his friend grab plates from the cupboard. On the counter, a salad had already been prepared and by the salt shakers, Seth could see a little polaroid photo of Sara and Cesaro, grinning in a photo booth, looking adorable.

"How's your love life though?" Seth asked, sure that he shouldn't monopolize the conversation, even if he wanted to. "How's the gal?"

"I love her." Cesaro said, deadly serious and turning to Seth with a sort of childlike excitement. "I am serious. She… she has made me very happy and I think I have made her happy too. After my shoulder… well… I don't feel nearly as… incapable at the moment. I am enjoying my time."

"Well that's good," Seth smiled, happy for his friend's fortune. "I'm glad you guys got to link up."

"Oh yes, it's been wonderful," Cesaro agreed, dumping food onto their plates one-handed. He allowed Seth to help him carry his drink back into the living room and then put on a record for some background noise. Distantly, Seth wondered if Dean had made it to the gym or if Roman was cleaning or gardening around the house. As they ate, he checked his phone periodically, but didn't see any texts. Trying not to be terribly rude, he pocketed the device, listening to Cesaro happily prattle on about his girlfriend.

"We were talking about maybe going to a yoga retreat in August in the Keys," Cesaro explained, "Taking some kind of trip. It is hard because it will be so hot here during the summer, so everywhere is sort of sweaty, but neither of us want to fly or do anything too expensive." He took a bite of his food and chewed neatly, thinking. "But, we have gone to a few restaurants and we go to each other's places maybe once a week. She does not want to go out too much or do anything too crazy, but I would like to surprise her with something fun."

"I bet it's hard though, with your shoulder and all." Seth said, licking his fork clean, the food was quite good. "I'm sure she's not expecting anything too wild."

"Yes, but I want to travel and go places myself!" Cesaro laughed. "I just never felt as though I would want to do it alone. Having a companion is best."

"Well, I'm down to do some double date nonsense now if you'd want." Seth said, "You guys seem like you're getting pretty comfortable. I still need to schedule an appointment with her…" he rolled his eyes. "Just one more thing on the list."

"I can text her if you know what time," Cesaro offered. Seth shook his head.

"Don't bother, I'll figure it out after the fundraiser," he sighed, "Putting everything off till after that…"

"What do you think…" Cesaro asked, setting his half finished plate down and looking to Seth seriously. "What is the worst thing that will happen if you tell Roman and Dean about the estate things?"

"They break up with me," Seth said flatly. "They don't want to move or deal with it."

"And you are dead set on leaving?" Cesaro asked. Seth nodded.

"It's… It's where I'm supposed to be, I feel at least," he said, remembering back to all of his grandfather's photographs. The legacy of his family. "I don't want to sell that house and I do want to figure something out with the property where maybe I could turn a profit with it. I don't know." He stroked his chin, toying with his beard fuzz carefully. "Maybe I don't even do that, maybe I just fuckin' lifeguard some tiny pool in Buffalo. I just feel like I need to be with my family, especially after what my mom had to deal with, being by herself and sorting through all of that stuff."

"I think that makes sense," Cesaro said, eyes narrowing and looking to Seth with a sort of quiet curiosity. "Why do you not think you can tell your boyfriends what you just told me?"

Seth opened his mouth for a moment, thinking. The mellow guitar music coming out of the record player filled the silence, and out of respect, Cesaro sat patiently. All of the emotions and stress behind the actual inheritance had eclipsed a lot of Seth's thinking and he sat for a moment, trying to frame his mind around what he really, truly wanted. Free from any regard for money or outside interference.

"We've been dating for only a few months," Seth said quietly, shrugging. "It's not like we've talked at all about what he want with that. Getting… really serious I mean."

"Do you want to start a family?" Cesaro asked.

"I have no idea," Seth rubbed his eyes. "But I definitely could if I had that house. It's huge. I think at some point I might want to."

"Well, if they do not want that…" Cesaro bit his lip, trying to think of his own way to frame his thinking. "I… I think sometimes you sell yourself short or your boyfriends short… maybe I am wrong but they seem to be very kind and nice to you. If you are already living together, they probably would like to be with you for some time."

"That's true… they… have been…" Seth mumbled. Without fail, almost any time he'd been emotionally shaken or physically incapable of doing something, both Roman and Dean had swooped in to do anything they could. If Seth asked for anything, he knew his boyfriend's could be counted on to help. It wasn't a question anymore and Seth was long past being tentative and afraid of Roman and Dean getting closer than he was with either of them.

But there was also the text conversations that he really didn't want to explain to Cesaro. Those sideways complaints he'd read between Roman and his sister regarding his behaviors. Dean's moments of moodiness and seclusion. Roman's wishy washy attitude and poorly adjusted family and drinking and all their stupid fights about laundry and refrigerators.

Could they replicate any modicum of happiness away from the house? Was it all just some stupid immature dream to be a trio instead of a pair?

"You will never know until you talk to them about it," Cesaro said, bringing Seth back to earth and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "But I think that they may surprise you. Maybe they will offer something that you did not expect."

"Like what?" Seth asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

"Some solution you did not think of?" Cesaro tried, half-shrugging. "Who is to say?"

Cesaro gave him a lot to think about, but it was still too much for Seth to imagine a good way to spring the important conversation on his boyfriends. The rest of the visit, Seth talked about the Keys, explaining the amazing houseboat and their stops along the way. Cesaro listened politely and asked questions about specific places he'd heard of, watching Seth with a sort of buzzed expression. Clearly he was very happy to see his friend, and Seth felt a lot better to catch up and have a few things off his chest.

"The sun is down, but it is still hot." Cesaro sighed miserably, looking at his phone as Seth checked the time. "Do you work tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, lots of last minute prep for the event." Seth sighed, stifling a yawn. It was about 9:30, a lot later than he was usually out. Since he'd moved into Roman's house, he felt like he was in bed by 10 PM like clockwork each night. Cesaro took their plates and proceeded to rinse them off in the sink. The record had long since stopped and Seth looked around at the little space, feeling peaceful.

"You should come by the fundraiser if you're not stuck at the doctor's all day," Seth encouraged, getting up and stretching where he stood. "Bring your girl by."

"Maybe, I think it is supposed to rain this weekend." Cesaro re-entered the room and looked at Seth kindly. "Text me next week? Let me know how things are going for sure."

"Yeah yeah, thanks a lot man." Seth leaned in, actually going for a full hug before he realized what he was doing. Cesaro didn't seem to mind though, shuffling closer so his arm was not jostled.

"I appreciate it," Seth said, stepping back. "Sorta just… taking everything a few minutes at a time."

"Yes, do not explode." Cesaro laughed, seeing him to the door. "Have a good night, Seth."

Substantially less stressed out, his mind wandered idly as he drove home. Throughout his body, Seth felt loose and carefree, less likely to snap at any moment. As much as he wanted to believe Cesaro, and the evidence that was right under his nose, he just didn't feel comfortable showing his cards yet. With each passing day, he was probably losing credibility from hiding the information, but he needed to plan. Planning meant actually looking at the forms his mother sent and getting a timetable sorted out. After the fundraiser, Seth would call the estate lawyer and then maybe he'd have a better idea.

We'll sit down, he thought, imagining himself laying out charts and graphs for Dean and Roman to see. They could go out to dinner and Seth would pop the information on them to ponder in a public space where they'd be more likely to listen and not escape. Seth still didn't know what he thought his boyfriend's might say, but he wasn't sure when it was appropriate in a relationship to ask his lovers to roll the dice and uproot their lives for him.

Pulling back onto Grant Street and parking his car by the large willow tree, Seth got out and pushed his sweaty hairs back behind his ears. The lights in the house were on and the Jeep was in the driveway, but the garage door was open, which was a little strange. As he came inside and heard Kevin's little anxious bark, Seth saw the TV was on, but Roman was asleep on the couch, snoring up a storm.

His heart sank a little as he saw beer cans and video game controllers on the coffee table. Roman looked completely out, deaf to Kevin's noise with his hair strewn wildly across one of Dean's hoodie's that he'd crumpled up into a pillow. Dean himself was nowhere to be found and Seth toed out of his shoes, feeling deflated.

If Roman was drinking because he was stressed out about something, he was also hiding something. Without any thought, Seth glanced around suspiciously, looking for his boyfriend's phone around the perimeter of the living room. The man had actually fallen asleep in his jeans and as Seth's eyes grazed down his body, he could see the lump of the device in his boyfriend's pocket. Seth sighed hard, sure that they'd have to have some sort of conversation about this. If Dean of all people had brought it up, it was a problem.

Walking into the kitchen and surveying the heap of dirty dishes in the sink, Seth noticed a note on the table and the contents of his pocket, including his phone. Seth's heart raced, seeing the note Went out biking with gum wrappers and a pair of headphones heaped on the countertop. Swallowing hard, Seth looked around. Roman was snoring and there wasn't any reason to think that he'd be interrupted. There wasn't any reason to look at Dean's device, but Seth felt vulnerable after such an intimate conversation with Cesaro.

Why couldn't he just trust them?

Opening Dean's phone in a hurry, Seth didn't see any missed texts or calls. From what he'd already gathered by peeking at their phones before, he wasn't really shocked. The most immediate application on his boyfriend's device seemed to be an internet page, difficult to discern through the cracked screen.

Seth blinked, tilting forward and narrowing his eyes to read. It looked to be some sort of list and Seth scrolled to the top. He hadn't known Dean to read much or use the internet, but it had appeared to have used it for something.

10 Simple ways to reduce stress!

Stress and anxiety are common experiences for most people. In fact, 70% of adults in the US say they feel stress or anxiety daily. Here are some simple ways to relieve stress and anxiety….

It seemed almost laughable that Dean had gone so far as to Google ways to relax, but Seth's heart hurt to see it. At the top of the list, exercising and biking were options that the article was promoting, shortly followed by candles and meditation. It was possible that Dean had wanted to talk to Seth while they were working out, perhaps plan some intervention to talk to Roman about what they were witnessing. Seth locked the phone slowly and set it down, treading carefully into the living room where his boyfriend was still fast asleep. Kevin followed in his shadow and Seth turned off the television, feeling vacant and hollow.

He didn't want to confront his boyfriend or wake him up, he'd done that before, but it hadn't changed anything. Perhaps Roman had meant to wait up for him and had simply passed out where he'd been sitting. But Seth didn't really think that was true.

This can't be happening if we're going to move Seth thought angrily, walking to the bathroom and getting ready to brush his teeth. It was getting late now and he hoped Dean was biking back, but since he didn't have his phone, Seth could only hope for the best.

It wasn't often that he laid in bed alone, and as he sunk into the sheets, shucking off his day clothes, it occurred to him how vast the mattress was when there was only one person on it. He stretched his limbs out in all directions for a few minutes, trying to stay calm and breathe before curling into his usual middle spot.

The moon shone full through the window and with every silent second, he felt worse.