"Ro?"

Roman grunted a soft response, shifting his arms downward in their warm, firm embrace around Dean's waist. Dean felt a slight peck at the crook of his neck, followed by a sharp inhale around the hairline on Dean's nape. "What's up?" Roman asked.

It was a deceptively chilly fall afternoon. The sunset shone into the window of Dean's bedroom, cascading beams of light onto the wall and hitting a little above Roman's left arm. Roman and Dean had pulled the covers up halfway, with the former's arms wrapped around the sandy blonde's waist. Dean reveled in the warmth Roman radiated, welcoming and reassuring and loving all the same time.

Dean had fallen into an intense melancholy that went in perfect sync with the changing color of the falling leaves. And while it was really nothing alarming, Roman took it upon himself to comfort Dean. Leave it to Roman's familial instincts to alert him when Dean would seem off, even in the slightest manner. And he might never admit it, but Dean enjoys and appreciates it more than the Samoan will ever know.

"I don't really know how to say this, man. But thanks," Dean began, not entirely sure what he even wanted to say. He felt a smile pressed into his shoulder as Roman tightened his arms around Dean's waist. "Anytime, babe," Roman replied, muffled slightly by the cotton of Dean's shirt. "It's not entirely selfless, Deano. I like keeping you close, treating you like you're mine." He made a soft line of kisses along Dean's shoulder. "I was always taught to take good care of my belongings."

The smaller man grinned slightly as he lifted Roman's left forearm up, gently cradling it in his palm. Dean's fingers on his free hand begin idly tracing the intricate lines of Roman's tattoo. "You don't own me, bro." Dean replies smugly, immediately softening a little after. "But I see where you're getting at. It does feel good to be cared for." The raven haired man chuckles as he breathes in the scent of Dean's hair once more. "Anything for you, babe. I mean that."

Dean's tone shifts slightly to one of mischief. "Anything?"

"Uh-oh." Roman begins, almost as if regretting his offer, before chuckling softly once more. "Yes, Dean. No matter how crazy your demand might be."

And the request is quite crazy, especially coming from Dean.

"Sing for me, man."

Roman virtually barks out a laugh at the request. Dean Ambrose asking to be sung to seems like too far-fetched an idea. Even Dean himself laughs a little at how odd the request sounds out loud. But he remains persistent. "Ro, c'mon man, for real. Don't tell me you don't sing."

"'Sing,' Dean? I don't sing, you know me," Roman replies. "Bullshit, you don't sing Ro. C'mon." When all he gets is a grunt of dismissal, Dean pushes further. "Ro, I've heard you sing. You sing when you shower. When you cook. You were singing 'Sucker For Pain' a few hours ago while unpacking groceries." Dean pulls Roman's arms apart just long enough so he can turn around and face Roman, wrapping his arms around the bigger man's neck so their noses are less than in inch away from each other. With a whisper, he repeats, "Sing."

A sigh, a gathering once more of arms around Dean's waist, and pulling him against his chest, Roman admits defeat. "Alright, alright." Dean smiles, dimples forming at the corners of his lips almost as a sign of victory. Both men fall into a short silence, Dean patiently waiting for his lover's astounding performance, which sounds like…

…A very nervous, "what do I sing…?"

Dean bursts out laughing, thumping his fist on Roman's chest in amused frustration. "Goddammit, Ro!" Dean says, Roman smiling and laughing along with how much better Dean seems to be feeling. "You didn't have a request, dude! What was I supposed to sing?"

A short, thoughtful pause, and Dean simply responds, "surprise me."

And surprise him, Roman did.

"I want you, I'll color me blue," Roman breathes out in a soft, delicate, almost whispery falsetto. "Anything it takes to make you stay." Dean is stunned for a split second before he pulls Roman in closer, pressing his ear into the Samoan's chest. He can feel Roman's warmth, hear his heartbeat, and the soft rumble of Roman's vocals as he continues singing carefully to a Dean steadily growing more relaxed. "Only seeing myself, when I'm looking up at you."

"I can't say no, all the lights are on; there's nobody home." Roman continues, in a pitch presumably lower than the song itself, Dean observed. He was still surprised not only at the song choice, but at how well Roman could carry a tune at a different pitch. "Swore I'd never lose control," His deep, gravelly voice was so smooth, Dean would almost get lost in it. "And I fell in love with a heart that beats so slow."

When Roman is finished, he looks down to see Dean's eyes are closed. Amused but unsure if he had fallen asleep, he lowers his chin to whisper into Dean's ear. Before he could form the words, Dean murmurs, "yeah, I'm still awake."

"Did you like it?" Roman asks, tentatively, the answer to which was an almost immediate, but somehow reluctant sounding "Yes!" Dean buries his face into Roman's chest, arms squeezing him tight. "Good," Roman says, pressing a kiss onto the top of Dean's head. He sighs contentedly, both men silently enjoying each other's presence before Roman hears a muffled murmur somewhere below him.

"What was that, Dean?"

"You were awesome, Roman. Thank you."

Roman beams at him. "I love you, babe."

Silence befalls them both as the sun sets. Roman succumbs to the temptations of sleep, now made much stronger with the comfortable, welcoming embrace of his lover beside him. Dean waits for the drooping of Roman's eyelids to be sealed before he smiles and whispers softly, "Love you too, Ro."

Author's Note: Inspired by Roman's Unfiltered With Renee Young episode where he says he doesn't sing. I have this headcanon that he actually can, he's just not very comfortable with his singing voice.

The song is Blue, featuring Alex Hope, by Troye Sivan.