Humpdaaaay and here we are again.
Not much to say but ❤ ~(^∀^) ~ ❤ for all you lovely souls out there! Thanks for so much feedback candy becauuuuuse it always makes my day to hear from you XD *smooch*
So, off now, the boys are waiting! Enjoy!
- Dean -
It reached deep, this scent that had become so familiar so soon and it touched him in places he hadn't even known were there in him. Places which had been revealed by Roman's unceasing peeling those thick layers of self-protection off which Dean had built over those long years, this stubborn and unweary digging deeper and deeper to find what had been lying safely sheltered by all those walls and fences and doors in him.
It was that magic touch of the night, wasn't it, that brought out things which were hiding away in the daylight, making them look either better or worse. The night made you feel and it gave feelings, emotions so much more power.
And right now it did things to Dean... because he was so very aware of Roman... his warmth, his scent, the sound of his breathing, of everything... and he was sure that if he only listened close enough, then he could even hear the beating Roman's heart... and it all, it kept touching those places within him with soft finger, tugged at chords which sent a humming through him that seeped into the air between them.
The darkness of the night put a veil over things which weren't supposed to be seen in the light, that's why they came out when the darkness settled over the world.
But Roman... he was one of those souls who didn't only just look. Roman saw and... huh... Dean couldn't put it in words. Roman seemed to just feel things. He knew. Fact was that this man had seen a lot of ugly sides of him and he hadn't left, had pulled him closer instead.
Fuck, his head was spinning, badly. So much that it left him feeling dizzy. He really needed a fucking break. And his mind took a break from racing this very moment, got distracted by a soft movement at his side as Roman mirrored the way he was sitting and... and at a featherlight touch on his bare arm. Fingers. Tender, testing, feeling around a little.
... warm... the touch was warm... as was the shoulder against his own...
And ever so slightly he shifted his weight towards the massive body beside him for a bit more contact and added warmth that radiated off of Roman. The man was a living heater. An unseen tiny and crooked smile tugged at Dean's lips as he briefly thought about how good it would feel to have Roman lying under the same blanket in cold nights.
The smile dropped. Again the wrong rail his thoughts were heading towards.
The fingers were replaced by a palm but only briefly before the hand vanished completely.
"That a dark secret of yours?" he murmured, not opening his eyes though. "Groping people in their sleep?"
"Now, you're not sleeping, are you? But you should be," Roman replied, not playing along. "And you feel cold."
"Am not cold."
Another sigh reached his ears.
"Well, but your skin feels cold."
Dean shrugged and rolled his head against the wall, turning his face towards Roman and as he opened his eyes, he found his friend staring at the opposite wall but definitely once more concerned. Even in the almost darkness it was clearly written there.
Teddy bear.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping, too?" he asked, frowning in question.
A subtle change was visible in the expression that clung to Roman's face. Although still concerned, there was something else mingling into it but Dean couldn't put a finger on what it was.
"Couldn't. You were thinking too loud," Roman muttered, now meeting his gaze.
Silver. Mesmerizing how Roman's eyes seemed to be liquid silver in the pale and oh so faint light that was flowing into the room from the outside world.
"Yeah, my bloody head just won't give me a fucking break," he admitted quietly, even if right now it was pretty quiet in his head compared to those past hours.
"Headache?"
And it was back, that pure concern, like a switch being flippen. It really made him wonder if Roman had some kind of a piggy bank where he saved worry in to always have some at hand.
Trying himself on a smile, he answered: "Nah, just, you know, thinking and stuff."
"See? I've been hearing right. You're thinking too loud, Captain Solo. And too much."
True. Both. Only that there was no bloody stop button he could push. He didn't comment that though, only looked at Roman who held his gaze. His mind was still busy, he could feel the current in the background, but for now it had quietened... ever since Roman was sitting here at his side. How could it be that this man could so magically make him feel at ease? Not even three weeks and Roman had completely wormed his way into Dean's life and his hea...
He managed to stop this thought in the very last moment. Wrong rail. Fucking wrong rail here...
Something shifted in the liquid silver orbs, brows furrowing over them before Roman averted his gaze and turned his head away, dipping it forward a little. A few strands of hair fell down as he did that, concealing the handsome face.
"It scared the shit out of me." The usually full voice was somehow breathless as Roman spoke and very-very quiet, yet as it wrapped around the words that left Roman's lips, it wound around a chord in Dean that had been lying untouched between all those Roman had already struck and the feeling it caused, that strange thingy that was making him feel as good as it scared him, it crawled up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "There was so much blood and... you were barely concious..." Briefly Roman fell silent, took a shuddering breath Dean could not only hear but also feel. This was what Roman hadn't wanted to talk about in the apartment and now that he did say it, Dean really wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. But maybe it needed to be said... "I went in there and you... your hands were bloody and your face... from the cut and... fuck... fuck..."
He watched as Roman brushed his hands through his face and dipped his head back against the wall, his gaze fixing on the ceiling.
A faint memory crawled up, broke through the surface and got clearer...
"You've been holding me..." he whispered a bit absentmindedly.
The memory brought the faint feeling of arms around him along. Roman's arms. And his voice, telling him to hang on and...
... I've got you... stay with me...
"You passed out," Roman added, his hands dropping to the mattress, fingers digging into the sheets while his eyes closed briefly. "You know, for a moment I thought that you're not breathing anymore." Grey eyes met his own again. Sadness was there but also relief. "Don't scare me like that again. Okay?"
He wanted to lean over and put his arms around him. It wouldn't be a big deal to do that, right? Right. He could do it and give some of the comfort back he'd been given by this man.
"Will do my best," he said instead.
Coward.
Keep a certain distance... pull him closer... why was it so goddamn hard to just keep walking on one path instead of stumbling back and forth without making up his mind what he wanted?
"While I've been sitting at your bed, I've wished I would have broken every single of his bones," he heard him hiss.
Even though Roman was the type of guy who didn't back down from a fight, the image of him doing that just wasn't really him.
"No. That's not you, Ro," he murmured.
His hand slipped down from his lap and in the little space between them it came to lie on Roman's. Not a hug, no, but this was more than nothing at all.
"In this case I would have made an exception."
Gravely serious. And Dean couldn't help but imagine the scenario and he didn't even try to stop the grim satisfaction that rose in him. But as soon as it was there it was gone again as another thought invaded his mind. Roman could have gotten hurt. Seriously so. It stained the good feeling, the knowledge that there was someone who was willed to risk so much for him brought along.
"It's not worth it that you get yourself in trouble or hurt or shit."
A soft gleam appeared it those mesmerizing eyes, calling him to come closer.
"You are worth all of this and more, Dean. So much more."
A tingling lit up in his chest and hadn't he felt this before already? The hand under his own was being moved a wee bit, just enough that his own slipped to the mattress and it came to lie palm to palm with Roman's. Fingers were spread and his own slipped between them a little, causing that tingling to chase as a shiver through him that was followed by a wave of goosebumps.
Roman was doing it again within only a few hours but sure he wasn't doing it on purpose to leave him weak because of doing and saying things like this now... right?
... tick... tick... tick...
What is it, Ro? What the hell makes you tick? What makes you doing all this? And why me?
Swallowing hard, he fought with himself to ask it. He'd asked Roman once before, that one time when he'd been waiting for him at the car, but the answer he'd gotten wasn't enough.
"Why, Ro?" he asked just above a whisper. "All this?"
The softness in Roman's eyes got even softer if possible and with it a smile graced those kissable lips as Roman replied: "Because I like you, Dean. Much. Have from the very first moment on."
The same answer as the last time. Dean puffed a tiny, unbelieving laughter because it just wouldn't go into his head.
"You knew nothing about me..."
The smile on Roman's lips faded, leaving a softness in its wake that matched his eyes and something else that was deeper, richer and without a name.
"Sometimes you see someone and you know that this very person is worth everything and I'm not gonna question it, because it feels right the way it is."
Dean knew he should say something, anything, even if it was only a thank you but this... it wiped his mind blank of any ability to speak. What Roman had just said pierced neatly into his heart and took residence there, causing it to stumble hard in his chest and before he could manage to get his damn mouth to work, he watched the softness dim and felt Roman pull his hand away.
"Okay, uhm... you should try to catch some sleep now," Roman mumbled as he got up and out of the bed and suddenly Dean's side felt too fucking cold.
Don't... Dean thought, willing Roman to understand without words. Don't go. Hesitation was lying in Roman's movements as he got up from the bed, reluctance as he walked towards the door and it seemed as if the other man didn't really want to go. Then don't. Just stay.
Roman paused at the door, not turning around to him. He did turn his head a little though as if he wanted to say something. But no words were spoken. And then he left the room, leaving a torn Dean behind. The reluctance Roman had shown... maybe he'd rather stayed here, yet he had also shown often enough that although he kept inching deeper and deeper into Dean's personal bubble, that he tried not to push Dean too much. It was why he was retreating now, wasn't it, probably thinking that he'd said too much.
I don't want to go but I give you room. It was written in the way Roman had left. And maybe there was also a call me back in there, too.
His eyes fixed on the black hole of the doorway, Dean blinked into the almost darkness. Thank you for not pushing me and now get the fuck back in here. It stuck in his throat, waiting to be released.
"Ro?" he breathed and no, Roman did not come back in.
Why would he? He was probably already back in his bed.
Shit... Dean thought, lightly knocking his head against the wall while closing his eyes tightly. Fucking shit...!
For the second within the last three hours Roman had retreated for Dean's sake... and once again Dean stumbled back and forth between this is too close and give me more.
Fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK!
May I introduce? Dean Ambrose, pitiable sucker for affection and too much of a coward to really allow it, not to speak of asking for it... or giving it...
For Roman it seemed to be so easy to just do it. Just... like that...
"Nah... shit... " Dean grumbled at the ache in his side and his shoulder as he wiggled out of the hoodie jacket.
"Haven't I told you to wait?" Roman sighed as he came walking into the room with a small bottle in his hand. "You're only hurting yourself."
It was late already and although Dean had spent the whole time lying on the bed ever since he'd come here, he was feeling dog-tired because he hadn't found much sleep and he would probably spend the whole night with being awake. The white noise in his head refused to give him the needed peace to let go.
"I uhm, I hope that your parents aren't disappointed or... dunno..." Dean murmured as Roman stepped up to him.
He hadn't joined the dinner and it made him feel guilty and ungrateful to Roman's parents, even if daddy Reigns had assured him that it would be okay.
"Don't worry," Roman replied, carefully helping him out of the jacket. "They've told you that it's okay if you rather want to be on your own, haven't they?"
The fabric slipped down his arms and he could hear the other man's breath hitch as the black and blue art in his body was uncovered. Hesitation. A sigh. And then Roman rested his forehead against the back of Dean's skull while his hands settled on Dean's sides. Warm fleeted over his neck as another sigh was breathed.
Goosebumps chased all over his body as his mind wandered back to that moment about three hours ago, before they went to bed... in their respective rooms. His hand smoothed over the sheets and to the place where Roman had been sitting a minute ago, his fingers curling into the pillow he found there and although feeling silly for doing it, he hugged it against his chest as he dropped back into that moment.
The hands on his sides smoothed a bit forward, just a tiny bit as if Roman actually wanted to wrap his arms around him, not daring to do so... and it made his own breath hitch because...
Don't.
... it was too much closeness...
Don't listen to me...
... and fuck, it wasn't close enough...
... and just do it...
But nothing happened and instead of just pulling those arms around himself... Dean curled his fingers to loose fists. His heart was thumping in his chest and somehow breathing wasn't easy. He wanted to step away from this and... fuck, he also wanted to just step back and press up against the broad frame but... no... he was just mixed up and he couldn't... it wasn't right.
For a few more seconds which seemed to be a little enternity yet were over much too soon, they stayed like this, until Roman drew back eventually. His hands settled back on Dean's body, but this time to spread some ointment on the bruises.
What the fuck had just happened?
"How bad is the pain?" Roman asked quietly, smoothing his hand extra mindful over the area of the bruised kidney and momentarily it stayed there, rubbing soothing circles in a featherlight contact. "Need painkillers?
"No, it's okay," he mumbled, not willing to admit that he still was a fucking ball of pain, because it would only worry Roman more than he was already.
Actually he wanted to feel the pain and thus feel how it would fade, like some kind of a therapy. Another step to draw a line under his past, just like walking out of the apartment had been.
Leave it all behind.
Task accomplished, Roman put the ointment aside and took a step back, his eyes roaming over Dean scrutinizingly as he turned around to face Roman.
"Need anything else?"
It feels like I do, but I'm not sure what... he whispered in his head.
"No, thanks," Dean mumbled, sitting down on his bed with a sigh.
Fuck, he was so fucking tired...
Hunching down in front of him, Roman brushed a few stubborn strands out of Dean's forehead and graced him with a small smile and Dean had to smile a bit himself, because somehow it seemed as if Roman just couldn't stop touching him.
"Wake me if you need something, no matter what time it is. Okay?"
Big gentle teddy bear mode on.
"Okay." He watched his friend stand up again, walk over to the door and he was almost out of the room as Dean called quietly: "Ro?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Thank you for everything. He had no damn idea where to begin or what to say or how he should ever make it up to Roman for all he had done from that very first moment he'd stepped between him and those assholes back then on the school grounds. Thank you for being Superman and Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Thank you for being the stubborn mule you are and not giving up. Thank you for being this big and gentle teddy bear.
Thank you for believing in me. Just... just thank you...
A nod. Roman knew.
"Anytime, Han Solo."
And then he was gone.
Slipping deeper, Dean made himself comfortable, savoring the feeling of soft pillows framing his head and the equally soft duvet wrapping around him. He was still hugging the pillow and a faint scent was clinging to it.
Superman.
For long minutes he just lay there, willing his eyes to stay closed while sleep refused to come to him, probably scared off by the white noise in his head that was getting louder and louder again. Bloody head. Goddamn, fucking inability to just accept something as good as being here with people who cared and... Fuck... fuck! Roman was holding his hand out to him all the time and all he had to do was to stop letting go of it like he was doing permanently. Taking it, letting go. Again and again.
Emotionally stunted coward.
It was am undeniable fact that Roman made him feel at ease and two times already he'd fallen asleep with Superman being around. All it would have taken was to ask Roman to stay when he'd left only minutes ago, but no, instead he'd watched him leave.
Bloody idiot.
"Fuck this shit," he growled as he rolled over and out of the bed, immediately regretting the too quick and thoughtless movement as pain shot through him.
It didn't stop him from going over to Roman's room though, slightly hunched forward to ease the pain a little while still holding the pillow to his chest, more limping than walking actually and he tried, really tried with all he had summon not to think about what he was going to do now or to listen to the nagging voice that told him to go back to his own room. It was okay to do this, there was nothing bad about it. It didn't put the label weak on him or pitiable. No one would judge him for doing it.
The door to Roman's room wasn't closed and hesitantly he sneaked into the room, doing his best not to cause any sound as he walked up to the bed and for a long moment Dean only stood there, beholding the image. Roman was lying more or less on his belly, one leg stretched out, the other bent a bit. His head was resting on one arm while the other vanished under the pillow. The black hair was flowing over his shoulders and back, partly veiling his face. The duvet had slipped down to his waist, revealing the broad shoulders which were highlighted by the faint light that was falling through the windows and the silvery shimmer it created made the whole image look like a painting. Roman's breathing was even and soft. A peaceful sight. One that shouldn't be disturbed and now as Dean stood here, he felt silly for wanting to crawl into Roman's bed. He wasn't some five year old child, was he?
But it was tempting...
Get a grip, Ambrose, he chided himself, sighing inaudibly and he turned away to head back to his room... as he heard his name being said just above a whisper.
For that one single beat his heart left out he wasn't sure if he'd heard right but he turned back to Roman nevertheless. And his heart missed another beat.
Roman was still lying there on his belly, face half buried in the pillow but Dean could see that he was gazing at him and he watched as Roman lifted the duvet and scooted back a little, creating room... for him...
He moved before he realized that he did, climbing onto the mattress to lie down on this good side, with his back to Roman and thus he couldn't see the expression on his friend's face but he felt the mattress bounce a bit and a warmth that got stronger, telling him that Roman had scooted closer. The duvet was lowered down on him, was tugged up to his shoulders. He stared into the almost darkness, at a loss what to say but maybe... maybe there was no need for words anyway.
There was a light touch at his back as Roman settled his hand between them and that touch stayed. Dean didn't mind. Really. Warm breath flowed over his neck in a steady rhythm, giving him an idea how close Roman was lying behind him and the warmth that radiated off of the massive body engulfed him. Turning his face into the pillow, Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling Roman.
Ease... and the white noise in his head... it fell silent...
X
- Roman -
A slight movement against him... a touch on his arm. Weak fingers, twisting in his shirt and the faintest of tremblings was running though the body in his arms.
"Ro...?"
A whisper.
"I'm here, 's okay Dean." He barely managed to keep his voice from shaking. "You're safe now."
Blinking back hot tears, he brushed his hand softly over the blond hair while tightening his hold on Dean. Blood. So much blood...
"Stay with me, Dean," he mumbled. The already weak hold on his shirt got even weaker and the tension that had been left in Dean was fading. "Don't think about doing something stupid, you hear me?"
A breathless moan passed Dean's lips and the trembling which was running through him died away and with it the hold on his shirt. The hand slipped down... and the body in his arms went slack.
No!
He couldn't move, the brief moment agonizingly seeming so long.
"Dean?" he called quietly, his voice breaking at the single word and the lack of reaction freed him of the paralysis.
Shifted his hold on his friend, he sought the gaze of the blue eyes... but the blue was dull and empty.
"Dean?" he called again, brushing a hand over a bloody cheek. "Come on, open your eyes..."
It was now that he realized that Dean... wasn't breathing... he wasn't breathing...
"No, no-no, come on, don't do that! D...!"
"...ean!"
The buzzing in his ears was overwhelming loud as his heavily pounding heart pumped his blood through his veins like a bullet train and for an endlessly moment he couldn't breathe as his chest clenched painfully. He stared wide eyed, his confused brain trying to catch up, fighting to process... that he was sitting in his bed, his fingers buried in the sheets hard enough that his hands hurt. The deep breath he drew as the cold grip around his chest loosened sounded more choked than it was healthy but it brought much needed air into his lungs.
"Fuck..." he whispered, the shiver that ran through him lacing into the words. "Fuck..." Unfurling his fingers, he hissed at the pain in them the too hard hold left behind in its wake. "Jesus..."
Brushing his hands through his face, he willed his still running heart to calm down and his breathing to become normal again. A bloody nightmare. It had been a goddamn nightmare. Dean was okay. He was okay...
"Fuuuuck," he mumbled, slightly shaking his head before looking over to Dean. "That's the kind of waking up no one nee..."
Empty. The place beside him was empty. And briefly his heart clenched. It had been a nightmare. Nothing but a fucking nightmare, right?
"I don't need that shit," he breathed relieved as he realized that the place beside him looked ruffled and that there was a pillow lying there that was none of his own.
It had been a nightmare.
Still... Dean wasn't here. He'd been sleeping here the whole night and the last time Roman remembered that he had caught a glimpse on him, it had just been dawning. But maybe he had chosen to retreat to his own room again. His gaze swept over to his alarm clock which was showing a for his taste still too early 8:17 a.m., before it wandered over to the window where he found a rather grey outside world and rain.
Shaking his head once more to clear his still slightly befuddled min, he got out of the bed and padded over to Dean's room. A smile grew on his lips on the way because... just because. Dean was here with them, would be okay now and he couldn't wait to spend the day with him. A nice breakfast, a trip to his father's shop to show him the Chevy and some chilling afterwards. And Seth wanted to come over later today, too.
But Dean's room... was empty. Frowning, Roman made his way to the bathroom. Empty. The frown deepend and to it added a strange feeling that made him return to Dean's room to check if his stuff was still there. It had to be. Had to. Dean wouldn't do that, would he? Run away? Opening the closet, relief washed over him as he found Dean's clothes neatly stored away in it.
"Gosh, thank you..." he breathed as he closed the doors again and headed down the stairs to the kitchen which, except for a note from his mother that she was out at the grocery's, was empty.
Dining room. Empty. Living room... empty...
The frown returned to his face as he stood in the middle of the empty living room, listening into the quietness of the house for a hint where Dean could be but all there was... was the steady sound of the rain outside, but it was that sound that drew his attention because it was surprisingly loud. The reason was probably the French window that was left ajar. His feet carried him over, not to close it but to see if he was guessing right. And he was.
There on the lawn was Dean, sitting cross-legged with his head dipped back and his eyes closed. His hand were resting in his lap. The rain was falling down on him in thick drops, running down his bare upper body in rich streamlets. Strands of blond locks stuck to his face, framing it. Naked toes were peeking out from under sweat pants clad legs. Cocking his head a bit to the side, Roman watched him for a while, wondering why the hell he was sitting out there but whatever it was... Dean looked freed. A beautiful sight.
The events of the past days still seemed a bit unreal to him. The good things seemed like a nice dream, just like the time between Dean's phone call and that moment when the doc told him that Dean would be okay felt like a nightmare.
Roman couldn't even put in words how relieved he was, how happy that the nightmare was over for Dean, that he was allowed to stay with them and also that he wanted to stay here and be a part of this family. It was hard to hold back though, not to constantly cling to him because Dean was the one who had to set the pace and Roman had to follow.
No pushing, no pulling. Don't put pressure on him.
There had been moments the day before when they had been so very close. Briefly at the hospital and then at the apartment. Or the moment in Dean's room before they went to bed.
Or when he'd sneaked into Dean's room later, finding him still awake... and that kind of holding hands and the mere memory made his fingers itch to hold that hand again.
But then... Dean came to him. Dean was setting the pace, yeah, and he'd done something Roman would never have allowed himself to dream of and joined him to sleep in his bed the whole night, even if it had taken an unspoken it's okay, so come on and get in here. Pure trust... Good thing Dean hadn't noticed how hard his heart had been hammering against his chest or him inching so close that he'd almost been spooning Dean and God knew, he wished he simply could have wrapped his arm around this man and hold him tightly.
The night had been quiet snd peaceful with both of them finally finding much needed sleep. There had barely been bodily contact except for his hand touching Dean's back innocently or light touches of shoulder against shoulder while both of them had been lying on their backs. For a bit Dean's leg had been lying hooked over Roman's and Roman had been guiltily enjoying every single second he was granted to be awake to, even more since he knew that the chances that Dean would crawl into his bed again were bad enough. So at least he had those few minutes which no one could take away from him.
Roman stepped out and walked over to his friend who didn't seem to notice the slow approach till he kneeled down beside him, mumbling his name. The blue eyes opened and locked with his own and somehow Dean's eyes looked glassy, slightly reddened as if he'd been crying, but a smile grew on the kissable lips, shaky but there.
"For a moment I thought that you've left," Roman admitted quietly, maybe because he wanted to hear from Dean that that wouldn't happen, ever.
And Dean did him the favor.
"Not gonna happen," Dean promised as quietly, his gaze dropping to his own hands.
Roman's eyes found to Dean's hands, too, saw how his friend scraped his nails over them and the way he did that was kind of absentminded, yet it was obvious that he hadn't just started doing it this very moment. The skin showed slightly red trails were it started to be irritated. Compensation.
"What're you doing out here?" he asked, reaching out to lay one of his hands on Dean's to stop it.
"Feeling free," was the mumbled reply.
Dean did not look up, but he pulled a hand out from under Roman's, covering it and Roman's heart did ridiculous somersaults.
"Come back in. You'll be catching a cold out here."
A soft chuckle.
Then: "It's warm summer rain, Ro. Besides, ya know, rain's nice. I like it."
Dean was right, it wasn't cold out here and if he wanted to sit a little longer, then he wouldn't do it alone. Not taking his hand away, Roman sat down beside his friend. Frowning Dean looked over.
"What are you doing?"
"Gonna sit in the rain for a while," he murmured, bringing his free hand up to Dean's face to wipe a strand of the blond locks out of Dean's forehead.
The frown on the handsome face deepened. The swelling had become a little worse, just like the doc had told them it would. A hematoma had built in the white of Dean's left eye.
"Why?"
Running the tip of his index finger ever so softly over the bruised cheek before he drew it back, he sighed: "Because someone very special told me that rain's nice. Guess I gotta try it then."
Dean swallowed hard, his already shaky smile wavering visible for the briefest of moments before he snorted: "Dude, sometimes I think you'd follow me right away if I'd jump from a bridge."
Roman shook his head no.
"No. I'd be waiting down there to catch you."
The absence of words that followed was filled with the steady sound of the rain and a stunned silence and maybe it hadn't been fair to come out here and say all this to Dean because in a way it put pressure on him, didn't it? This open expressing of affection that Dean wasn't used to. Maybe he should have let him sit alone out here for a while, to think and to process. Their hands were still joined and their gazes locked and Roman could see a current of things going on in the sky blue orbs, those baby blues he'd come to love so very much. He couldn't read all of what he saw there but at least he didn't see rejection or fear lying in them. Confusion was there. Heavy. Uncertainty. The corner of Dean's mouth twitched, as did his right shoulder and the hand under his own and then Dean averted his gaze, turned his face away... but he made no move to draw his hands back.
"Jesus Christ, Reigns, you're such a sap," he heard him laugh.
A weak laughter that was meant to laugh the situation off.
"Been called worse," Roman shrugged, lightly squeezing the hand under his own.
Again Dean's good shoulder twitched and Roman couldn't help but lay his hand on it to stop it. It had worked often enough before and it did work now. The shoulder stilled but he could feel a shiver run through his friend who bowed his head momentarily before looking over to Roman again.
"You forgot your cape again."
Hushed, slightly amused yet serious.
"Cape?" Roman frowned.
Pointing at Roman's chest, Dean replied: "Your red cape. That's what Superman is wearing, isn't it? You always forget to put it on..."
He blinked. Superman? Dean was thinking of him as... Superman? Opening his mouth to say something, he found himself at a loss what to respond to this and now it was him who averted his gaze, swallowing hard at the sweet ache which was blooming in his chest.
"I ain't no Superman," he managed to bring over his lips after a few seconds.
"Fuck, yes, man, you are." From the corner of his eye he noticed Dean lift a hand. An index finger touched Roman's chest, drawing an invisible S on it with a touch that was gingerly and soft, testing. Shy almost. "You are, Ro..."
Dean's voice was even rougher than it was usually and somewhat breathless. The hand dropped to Roman's thigh then, resting there and he sought the baby blues again. Unguarded baby blues, a bit more glassy than they had been only a moment ago and despite the mass of emotions which were fleeting through them, they looked at him with an affection he'd never seen there before, sparkling and breathtaking. And suddenly it was there, a humming that laced into the air between them and it got stronger until he could feel it hum throughout him, sweeping its fingers over his heart and it left a tune in its wake Roman wished he could voice.
I love you.
"I..." he began, gazing at Dean while stopping those words which took himself by surprise before they could tumble out of his mouth and ruin everything. "... think we should go in. Come on, Captain Solo, let's grab a shower before breakfast," he said instead, ignoring the sad tripping his heart did...
A while later Roman made his way back to he bathroom to check on Dean who was just taking a shower. After sharing the bathroom while brushing their teeth, Roman had left to set the table for breakfast and it still felt somehow surreal that Dean was here, would be every day from now on. A silly but totally happy grin spread on his lips and instead of making a beeline to the bathroom, he stopped by his own room, perched on the mattress on the side of the bed where Dean had been sleeping and neatly sunk his face in the pillow there. A deep breath... and there was the scent of freshly washed linen... and very faint the soap they had used at the hospital to clean Dean's hair from the blood but there was also... Dean. Sandalwood and something that was uniquely Dean.
For a minute he allowed himself to stay like this, before he wrenched himself away from the pretty nice place, regretfully so, to go to the bathroom and actually he expected Dean to be finished but as he reached the door, he heard that the shower was still running. Quietly calling his friend's name, he waited for an answer because he didn't want to simply burst in there, but there was no reaction. He called again. Nothing. Worry glinted in his guts again. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he pondered whether he should go in there and make sure that Dean was okay or if he should respect his friend's privacy and wait until he was done. But... what if Dean wasn't okay...? No, he couldn't risk that. The blows to the head Dean had taken had been massive and what if he'd passed out because of a late effect? Breathing deeply, he nodded to himself and hesitantly opened the door a bit to peek into the room.
Relief quietened the worry but the sadness he tasted on his tongue as he his mind processed what his eyes showed him wiped it away. Dean hadn't noticed him yet and Roman could only stand there frozen, watching him through the slightly misted glass walls of the shower. Dean stood a little hunched forward, holding his left arm close to his body, the fingers of his right hand poising above the bruised cheek while he stared at his own reflection in a big mirror tile. And Roman... watched... and for a few very long minutes they both stayed unmoving, like a still life until finally he couldn't bear it anymore because it hurt him to see Dean like this and he knew that Dean was hurting, too, was trapped in the image the mirror showed him.
Slipping into the room, he closed the door and locked it, just in case him mother would come back any minute, before he walked up to the shower and slowly opened the sliding door a bit, still unnoticed, to reach in and turn the water off. Dean flinched hard and the expression which was lying in those baby blues as their gazes met through the mirror tile was much too sober, piercing right through his very core...
- tbc -
Got some feedback candy for hungry li'l me?
