As he watched Dean stalk across the parking lot, Roman shook his head. Dean was, right, apple juice was a favorite of his daughter's, and 'the good stuff' was the miracle liquid that could be used as a bargaining chip to assure her full cooperation with any number of less than pleasant tasks, from cleaning up her toys to going to the dentist without a fuss. He did like apple juice himself, but not to the same degree. Maybe he did develop a craving every time he found himself really missing her. Maybe, subconsciously he felt that drinking the same drink his daughter Leah did, somehow reenforced the connection he had with her, the connection he'd felt with her before she was even born.
He remembered when his fiance, then girlfriend, told him they were going to be parents. She had been worried. Not terrified, she knew him too well to think he'd be one of those jerky guys who would demand she do something about it, but a little nervous. No matter how attitudes about unmarried folks having babies had become much more accepting, that didn't change the fact that a baby was a life changing event and one they hadn't really discussed before.
They were in bed, having just made love. And like most of the time, it had been wonderful. Roman hadn't been a virgin for a long time before he met her. While it had taken him until his late teens to grow into his good looks, he always had a charm and charisma that drew people to him. When he was old enough to discover the opposite sex could be pretty interesting, the opposite sex was more than happy to meet him half way. Because of this, by the time he met Jessica, he had a fair amount of experience and a bit of a reputation. Not a bad one, but people did talk and most of the talk about his abilities in bed had been pretty favorable. He remembered being at a party once and overhearing an ex of his talking to another woman, after they had a fairly amicable break up. "He's good," she had admitted. "He's real good. He understands what makes a woman tick and he never makes you feel... rushed. Unlike a lot of guys, he knows that he's going to get there so he's not really worried about how long it takes."
He had been pretty flattered by this, most people he knew were far less complimentary when describing an exes abilities in the sack. But what he overheard next made him wonder. "Just don't think you'll pin him down," she had continued. "Roman is the big, sexy, animal and he's none too eager to get caught. If you want to go for it, do it. If you connect you'll have a wonderful time while it lasts, but don't think the relationship will end with a ring on your finger."
He couldn't even remember the woman his ex had been talking to, so obviously, she hadn't decided to make a play for him. That didn't bother him, he had plenty of other women eager to get to know him, but the observation about his unwillingness to commit made him wonder. Until he overheard the ex, he never thought about commitment, if he was scared of it or not. He was barely an adult, wasn't that when you were supposed to have fun? Commitment was for when you were older, the thrill of the chase was over, and the idea of settling for one person for all eternity didn't seem so...boring. He never minded having a steady girlfriend, but the idea of turning your life, your entire life over to one person was another matter completely. He thought he had plenty of time for that type of relationship when he was older. MUCH older. Like thirty five, for example.
Then he met Jessica. Beautiful, intelligent, and all around awesome, Jessica. She wasn't as outgoing as a lot of the women he dated, she had a reserve to her that said she wasn't going to give herself up quickly. If you wanted to really get to know her, you were going to have to invest some time and effort, but she had a quiet confidence that told you it was worth it. Their relationship had a slow build up, a lot of talking, a lot of texting, a lot of getting to know each other, not just big things, but small ones too. By the time their relationship moved into the physical, he knew loved the smell of freshly cut grass in the spring, even though it played havoc with her hay fever and she knew that while he loved the taste of orange juice, he wasn't fond of eating oranges. By the time they made it to the bedroom, it had felt... different than it usually did. Like he'd spent his previous life racing to get somewhere, and she came along to show him he'd been passing some amazing scenery along the way. Yeah, there had been the first time awkwardness, knowing someone liked the smell of freshly cut grass wasn't a key to figuring out what made her tick in bed, but even with the fumbling, the trial and error of the two of them trying to find that rhythm, there had been a rightness he couldn't deny, a feeling that this had been preordained thousands of years ago, and there was some part of the cosmos sighing in relief that it had finally happened.
More than that, it had stayed good too. Most sexual relationships had different phases. There was the awkward beginning stage, then the playful, "I know I can do or suggest just about anything and we'll at least want to try it," stage. Then came the comfortable stage where each knew so well what the other wanted and it became easy. While that stage was great, it was the lead in to the worst stage, the "this is dull" stage.
They hadn't hit the dull stage by the time she became pregnant. he was starting to think they never would. Sure, not every time was breathless and exciting, not every sexual encounter could be a borderline religious experience. Sometimes it was quick and dirty, sometimes, it was more about comfort and closeness than it was about the physical release, but even in those less than perfect times, there was still an absolute rightness, a feeling that even if the two of them went off and had sex with every other person on the planet, under the best of circumstances, it would never be as good as it was between the two of them in the worst of circumstances.
She hadn't played coy, the day she told him. They were lying in bed, half tangled up in each other and the sheets. Roman was in that between area, where part of his mind was going, Oh, wow, and the other part was thinking, boy, I'd love some chili cheese fries about now. Jessica's head was resting on his chest, but she pulled away, drawing herself in a sitting position. The sheets shifted away from her, exposing her perfect skin and breasts, which added a third part of his mind, More? He thought about suggesting it, but something about the look on her face, changed his mind. "What's on your mind?" he asked instead.
She moved so she was facing him, tucking her legs under her in a fluid, graceful motion. That was one of the things that amazed him about her, she never stumbled. He was an athlete, he wasn't wrestling then, but he had been playing football and all his life he'd been a very physical person, but there were times in his life, too many to count, where he'd been downright clumsy. Jessica? Never. Even doing something as mundane as opening a can of tuna fish or emptying the trash barrel, her movements were graceful, as if she had choreographed and practiced it for years. "Roman, I have..." only a slight hesitation, but he caught it, "I have to tell you something."
She looked so serious, that he grinned, not to make light of the situation, but to assure her that no matter what was on her mind, he was here for her. "What?" he reached out and put his hand on her leg, rubbing it gently.
She put her hand over his, stopping his stroking of her leg. "I-I don't know how to say this other than to just say it."
"Okay, I'm listening," he said to encouraged her.
"We're going to have a baby." Her face was expressionless, her gaze studying him carefully. Her fingers were wrapped around his, but there was something still about it, as if she was trying not only to hear his reaction, but to feel it.
For a moment his mind went numb as he played the words in his head. They were going to have a baby... a child... and this had her worried for some reason, really worried and he couldn't figure out why. This wasn't startling, at least not in a bad way, this was part of the whole rightness of the situation. Something as beautiful and powerful as the way they connected could not be contained to just the two of them. It was a driving force and a driving force only did two things, destroyed or created. In their case, it had created a miracle, it created life. Yes, he knew there were plenty of people running around in the world who had been created under far less enjoyable circumstances, and in general, no one really knew by looking at them how their coming into the world had affected those around them, but he knew at that second, with all his heart and soul, that the child he and Jessica were going to have was going to be something special. Too much power had gone into her (he wasn't sure if he'd known at that moment if they were going to have a daughter, but something told him he just might have suspected) creation to be anything but special.
"Wow," he'd said, shaking his head. He wanted to say so much, he wanted to explain to her what his brain was figuring out, that this was more than just simple biology, that this was truly a good thing, a great thing, a miracle, but the words wouldn't come. Something had short circuited the path between his mind and his mouth and all he could do was express the marvel in one word. "Wow," he repeated again.
"Wow?" She cocked her head to one side, her long hair falling to her right shoulder.
"Wow," he repeated, his mind allowing his mouth to curve into a smile.
She matched his smile with one of her own, her teeth flashing in the dim light from the bedside lamp. "I'm assuming, from the look on your face, that this isn't such bad news?"
"Nope." While his mind hadn't fully loosened the choke hold between his thoughts and his mouth, it was getting easier. "Not at all."
He saw the tension drain from her body, the worry ease away. She leaned forward, shifting her legs, moving until she was lying next to him and his arms were around her and they were kissing, which lead to another round of love making.
It wasn't until later that he realized she had never said she was pregnant and he instantly knew why without even asking. To say she was pregnant was to imply it was merely a medical condition for which there was more than one option for resolution. In their case, there were no option, they were going to become parents. When they decided the time had come to tell family and friends what was happening, neither of them ever said she was pregnant, it was always, "She is (or, we are) going to have a baby."
He would have married her right away if she'd wanted, heck, he would have done whatever he could to have married her that very day if that would have made her happy, but she didn't want that. In the same, careful way she didn't rush into their relationship, but took the time to feel things out, she refused to rush into marriage. "It's not that I don't love you, I do, Roman," she explained. "But I don't want to dump too much on both of us. We're going to be parents, soon, and that's enough. Let's focus on that and when the time is right, we'll get married."
Somehow, in the five plus years Leah had been on this earth, the time was never right.
It wasn't that they didn't still love each other they had some of the usual bumps that every couple had, but for the most part, there relationship was still very strong. If either of them had worried that having Leah would strain it to the breaking point it was unnecessary. They were one of those rare couples whose child helped bring them closer in many ways. No, it wasn't like the movies, it wasn't always, "Wow, now we have a baby, our lives are complete and we'll live happily ever after!" Leah was a normal baby, she went through her fussy times where it seemed that she was born with only one purpose, to keep her parents from ever getting any sleep ever again. She had gone through a terrible bout of colic where the only thing that soothed her was to be held, so for two straight weeks, one of them was always holding her, sleeping in shifts, doing everything in shifts. "Honey, I really need to take a shower, can you hold her for ten minutes? Please?" And those times did strain them both to the point of being ready to murder one another over something as simple as forgetting to put the clothes from the washer into the drier, or to run to the store to pick up more diapers. But Leah also was a goal. Without discussing it, because discussion wasn't necessary, they both knew that no matter what life threw at them, the most important thing was raising this little human being. Even if Jessica was being particularly bitchy about something, to the point where Roman wanted to suggest there was a bus leaving town and perhaps she should be under it, he also knew that the best thing for Leah was to have two parents who loved each other. It was enough, at those moments, to get him to take one extra second to remind himself he did love Jessica, even if he was furious at her.
I thought she was feeling the same, his mind pondered as he filled the tank. In fact, he'd been sure of it, but early this morning, when they were talking on the phone, he had asked her if maybe they ought to be thinking about getting married.
"Think we should do this before Leah goes to college?" he'd quipped, half in jest. She didn't laugh, she didn't say anything. After a moment of silence on the line, he asked her, "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, everything is fine," was what she had said, but the sigh that finished the sentence indicated she was anything but "fine."
"It doesn't sound that fine," he said. "Is everything okay with Leah?"
"You talked to her twenty minutes ago, didn't she sound okay?" There was a snappish tone in her voice that said she was frustrated.
"Okay." He tried to keep the tone of his voice neutral as possible. "Sorry I asked, I just worry about the two of you."
Somehow, he had managed to say exactly the wrong thing. "Really?" Jessica's voice raised by at least two octaves. "You're really worried about us?"
"Hey, no fair!" He protested. "You know I always worry about both of you. You're my family! What would make you doubt that?"
"Gee, how about the fact that you're never home and when you are home you're spending half your time juggling phone calls or updating your twitter account so the fans know how their favorite superstar is doing. Or you're texting with Dean and Seth about something."
"They're my partners," Roman protested. "My co-workers. We have to keep in touch. And I don't tweet that much."
"There's more to it that that," Jessica disagreed. "It's more than just lip service with the three of you. It's not just a faction that you leave behind when the lights go out, you guys really are like brothers. If you all lived in the same town, you'd probably never leave each others houses until you had to go to work. You're on the road together ninety percent of the time, and the small amount of time you're not, they're still calling you, still demanding more."
"Yeah, we are friends," Roman admitted. "We do have a brotherhood thing going, I'll never deny that, but you and Leah are still the most important people in my life."
"Sure." She gave a snort that managed to reek of sarcasm. "We're so important that if Seth or Dean call, you'll drop everything for them. Roman, you walked out on my cousin's wedding last month because Dean called!"
"Uh, well, it wasn't during the ceremony, just the reception." Even as he said it, Roman realized how weak his defense sounded. He didn't regret that he'd taken the call, Dean had just gotten a call from one of his estranged family members demanding he sent money, and was pretty shaken up. But he wasn't sure if Jessica would have understood. He wasn't too sure he would have understood if he hadn't gotten to know Dean as well as he had. Dean's home life had been absolute crap, and by the time he was in his mid teens he was homeless in all but name. His family had never been supportive, yet now that he had "made it" they crawled out of the woodwork like particularly nasty roaches, on a semi regular basis just to hit him up for money. Not just his mother, but everyone who could possibly claim any type of "family" relationship with him, cousins, second cousins, third cousins, step cousins, you name it. And like most manipulative, mean spirited people, they were masters at guilting him. Fortunately, and with a little (well, okay, actually a lot) of persuasion from Roman and Seth, Dean had finally realized that no matter how much he gave them, it was never enough and it never would be enough. It wouldn't make them any happier in the long run and it wouldn't make them love him. The best it would do was encourage them to keep begging. The more he gave, the more they would take until he was drained dry and thus, useless to them. Dean finally cut them off, but that didn't stop them from trying and doing their best to make him feel like totally useless garbage whenever he refused their demands. Seth and Roman had promised him that any time they called (and his family always managed to find out his cell number, no matter how many times Dean changed it) he could always call one of them when it was over, just to hear that he'd done the right thing by saying no to their fiscal demands.
"It's the business, babe," he finally said, because she was treating him to silence again and he wanted to get her talking. "We have to work so closely together, it spills over. But, you're right, the next time we go to one of those types of functions, I'll keep my phone completely turned off and in my pocket. I won't even check on it until it's completely over, I promise."
His efforts at smoothing things over earn him another derisive snort. "Roman, you've worked with other people before, you've been in tag teams and all types of things where you worked with at least one other person pretty closely, but it's never been like this. The three of you are little peas in a pod, you're the Three Musketeers, you've got a bromance that makes the one between House and Wilson look amateur! You get on TV and say with absolute conviction that you will always have each others backs and it's not just lip service, it's the truth."
Now it was his turn to play silent, because she was right, or at least when they had been talking that morning, he thought she was right. Now? Well, now was another story. Damn you, Seth. Did you have to be so eager about it? Couldn't you have at least put up a token protest?
The click of the gas pump shutting off broke him from his thoughts. As he hung the nozzle back in it's cradle, he saw Dean walking out of the store holding two bottles in one hand, his fingers threaded around the necks to hold them. One of the bottles had that familiar brown label, telling Roman that Dean was able to find 'the good stuff.' Dean paused at the trash and recycle container, put the bottles on top of it, and fished in his pockets for something. Roman let out a groan as he watched Dean pull a red and white box out of his pocket. With practiced ease, Dean opened the box, and shook out a cigarette. With equally familiar moves, he drew a lighter from another pocket and lit up his smoke. Roman debated if he should walk over and put a stop to this as Dean took a deep drag and blew the smoke out through his nose.
Spotting himself being glared at, Dean grinned, cigarette clamped between his teeth and waved at Roman. He motioned to the bottles on the top of the trash and recycling container as if to say, "See? I found what you wanted!" and leaned against the wall next to the container.
Roman made his decision and walked over to him. He stood a little closer to him than he normally might have, towering over him and deliberately trying to intimidate him. "Dean, what are you doing?"
"Smoking, Captain Obvious." If Dean was intimidated, he didn't show it. He smirked, taking another deep drag and blowing smoke out his nose. "Want one?" Dean held out the pack. Roman grabbed it. "Hey! give that back!"
"Dean, c'mon," Roman said, debating if he should crush the pack into an unusable lump of tobacco and paper. "You don't want to smoke. You gave it up, you've been doing great with it, don't start up again."
"Quit playing Dad," Dean grumbled, reaching out and grabbing Roman's arm, the one holding the pack. With his other hand, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes and put them into his pocket. "You're not Seth andI'm an adult."
"Yeah, and you're old enough to know better," Roman argued. "Dude, you don't want to do this." He knew he was coming across like one of those self righteous jerks who thought they were better than everyone else, but in this case, it was justified. Roman really didn't give a damn what people did to themselves on their own time, but Dean's livelihood depended on being in the best physical shape he could be. Roman didn't care if Dean wanted a few hits nicotine once in awhile, but the smoking was a sure fire way to shorten his career considerably. God knows there are a million other ways our careers could come to a screeching halt at any second, we don't need to go out of the way to find more. "Dean, if you need the fix, do what you've been doing and vape it."
"My e-cig is packed in with my stuff and I don't want to dig it out," Dean said, almost petulantly.
"Then why didn't you buy a disposable?" Roman jerked his head in the direction of the store, "They sell them." He wasn't overly fond of vaping either, but it worked in giving Dean a substitute that wasn't actual smoking, but enough like it that in most cases, it worked.
"Because," Dean began, then hesitated. "Because...aw for fuck's sake, I need a cigarette tonight. Not a tube of mist, not some gum or a lousy patch, I need a motherfucking real, tar and nicotine loaded, lung burning, eye watering, cancer causing cigarette. I just want this one, okay? Just let me have this one cigarette without your getting on my ass like some sixth grade health teacher."
Roman sighed. There was a time and place for everything and right now, Dean needed to win this battle. "Does it really help?"
Dean nodded. "More than you'll know."
"All right then, have your smoke if you have to." Roman took his apple juice off of the trash/recycle container. "I'll wait in the car. When you're done, walk back to the car slowly to let the wind blow away the godawful stench." He grinned as he said the last part, to take some of the sting out of the words.
"Yeah, cool." Dean nodded.
As Roman turned to head back, someone came out of the store with a pack of the same brand of cigarettes as Dean was smoking in his hands, smacking the pack against his palm to pack them down. Dean pulled his pack out of his pocket and walked over to the guy. "Here," he said, handing him the pack. "You can have the rest of these, I just wanted one." He shot a look at Roman that said as clearly as words would have, See? I'm keeping my word.
The man, a guy about their age, accepted the pack and grinned. "Really? Thanks!"
"No problem," Dean said. "Enjoy." He waved his hand in a dismissing gesture, discouraging the stranger from trying to start up a conversation. Roman headed to the car.