Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Mpreg, Self-Harm, etc.

Roman fixed Dean a cup of tea, and the smaller man accepted it with a grateful smile. "I really did mean to come to the hospital."

Hazel eyes surveyed Dean's swollen cheek, "I didn't think that I hit you that hard." But then he shook his head, "No, I shouldn't have hit you at all. How bad does it hurt?"

"It doesn't matter." Dean brushed it off carelessly, averting his eyes to the blanket draped over his lower body.

"It really does, though." Roman wasn't about to let himself off the hook so easily. Dean sipped at his drink, but remained silent. "You're hurting just as much as Seth and I are, but you're not letting anyone help you."

The Lunatic Fringe smiled wryly. "You can say that this child belonged to all of us, but that's not really true, is it? Biologically, she was yours and Seth's. There can only be one mommy and one daddy."

"Who says?" Roman countered easily. "We're a family, regardless of our dynamic. We'd make it work."

Dean had half a mind to agree, just so they could end this pointless conversation. But he knew that Roman would see right through it. No matter what he said, Dean would always feel some sort of disconnect from any child they managed to bring into the world, if only because he knew there was no chance of him ever having one of his own.

Roman reached out and gently pressed his fingers against Dean's cheek. Dean's nose scrunched up in pain, but he didn't flinch away. The calloused hand slowly worked its way over the swollen, reddish-purple skin, measuring the full-extent of the damage. It looked like it hurt like a bitch, but Dean was putting on a brave face.

"How is Seth doing?" Dean desperately wanted to change the subject. He struggled with being the center of attention.

Roman shrugged. "About as well as can be expected, I guess." He watched as Dean finished off the tea, before setting the cup aside. "He's having dreams about one of the babies – the one he miscarried late. I guess they're more like nightmares."

"Did he have one in the hospital?" Roman nodded. His face looked pained. "That bad, huh?"

He could almost feel the way that Seth's hands had knotted the front of his shirt as he sobbed. The child had been so far along that he'd known the gender and had even named her, and now she was haunting his every waking moment, as well as the sanctity of his dreams. There was nowhere Seth could go to escape the reality of what had happened.

Roman closed his eyes. "It's going to be hard for him, coming back from this one. He doesn't know if he wants to try again. We need to be supportive with whatever he decides to do." Roman said firmly.

"Of course." Dean nodded, wondering how Roman could think he wouldn't be supportive.

"That means no more drinking." Roman continued, almost as if he hadn't heard Dean at all. "When he needed you, you were too busy going on a bender to be there. There will be some trust issues."

Dean thought that they were done talking about his shortcomings. Apparently, he was mistaken. "I can't just quit cold turkey."

Roman frowned, "What's more important to you, Dean? Seth? Or the bottle?"

Dean's hands clenched at his sides, balling so tightly that his short fingernails cut into the skin. Dark red crescent moons bubbled to the surface. Where the hell did he get off, thinking that he could ask a question like that? Seth meant the world to him! He was more important than anything else, including the bottle.

He was fully aware of what drinking did to him. He lost control of himself, did things that he normally wouldn't dare – like start a bar fight. Sometimes, there were long strips of black in his memory, where no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember where he'd been or what he'd done for hours. Those were the times that really scared him.

"If you want to make this thing with Seth work, Dean, the bottle can't be your razor anymore." And then, softer, "And neither can I." Their eyes met for a brief moment, and then both men looked away.

"You know what? My cheek actually does hurt. Could you go get me some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom?"

Dean was trying to change the subject. Trying to make it so that the attention switched from something painfully personal to something that was simply physical. And Roman felt just guilty enough to buy it.

He grabbed the Tylenol and a fresh bottle of water, before handing them over to Dean. He imagined that, in addition to his throbbing cheek, he probably had a killer hangover to boot. Once the capsules were down, Roman ruffled Dean's messy, dirty blond curls affectionately. Despite himself, Dean leaned into the touch.

"I'll try." Dean offered. It was the best he could do. He couldn't even promise he'd hold out very long, either.

"That's all I can ask for." Roman replied easily.

They both made themselves comfortable on the bed. They were both painfully aware of the hole left by their missing lover.

Dean rested his head on Roman's shoulder, allowing his eyes to slip closed. His swollen cheek was pressed into Roman's shoulder, causing a dull burning sensation to spread over his face. But he swallowed hard and pushed it to the back of his mind. He knew that Roman had simply been acting in the heat of the moment, that he hadn't actually wanted to hurt him.

"You want to know why I want to stay?" Roman asked suddenly. Dean jumped, but after a second, nodded hesitantly. "Because you and Seth need me right now. And sometimes, it's nice to have a reminder that you're needed."

Seth didn't want to sleep. If he slept, that meant that he would dream. And if he dreamed, it would be of her.

Roman had left when he was asleep. He really didn't blame him for it. He knew that Roman needed to rest, and to track down wherever the hell Dean had gotten to. But it still hurt to look over at the empty chair every few seconds and find it vacant. He would've at least expected him to leave a note or something, even a voicemail. But he had nothing.

His body positively ached, and it wasn't just from the D&E. He'd taken a real beating in that handicapped match, but with everything else that had happened, hadn't really felt the full effects until now. Under the blanket and hospital gown, he was undoubtedly every shade of purple, blue, and black imaginable. The bruises would last for days.

There was a knock on his door. He looked up excitedly, expecting either Roman, Dean, or both. Instead, he received Vince McMahon. "Hello, Seth." He said. "Can I come in?"

"I don't think it would bode well for me if I said no." Seth said stiffly. He turned, looking out the window.

Vince came in, taking a seat in the chair Roman had once occupied. "I'm not here to start a fight with you, Seth. It's my understanding that you've been through an immense trauma."

Seth had had enough of Vince's little 'games'. "Then what do you want?"

"I've recently been made aware of a conversation between your partner, Dean, and my son-in-law." Vince said, taking the hint and getting down to business. "I have no doubt that Dean told you about it."

Seth knew what the older man was referring to. Dean and Hunter had met shortly after Seth's miscarriage to discuss how the Shield's storyline was going to develop. Dean had asked Hunter for some time for Seth to heal, and had been met with a slap in the face – three handicapped matches in one night, the last one being an eleven-on-three match.

"I want to extend my deepest apologies, on behalf of WWE Management. Please know that Hunter had absolutely no right to put you in such a position, considering you were not medically cleared to compete." Vince continued.

Seth sighed. This was going absolutely nowhere. "Could you please cut to the chase, sir? I'm a little tired."

Vince smiled thinly. "Of course." He pulled out a folder, placing it in front of Seth. Upon opening it, he realized Vince's true intentions for coming here. "I would like you to sign this. It's a liability waiver."

"So, wait a minute." Seth barely reacted when Vince shoved a pen into his hand. "You want me to sign this paper, which basically says that everything that happened to me because of that match is okay?"

Vince shook his head. "No, no, no. Nothing of the sort." He waved his hand at the paper. "This is simply a precaution, should you get any funny little ideas in that brilliant head of yours about suing for damages."

So that was what he was worried about. His son-in-law had fucked up royally, placing Seth in a match he never should have been in, and his attempt at making amends was handing him a fucking liability waiver? Seth scowled. The interests of the company were of the upmost importance, of course. They couldn't handle such a PR nightmare.

As angry as Seth was, he was also hurt too. Even after having a miscarriage (contesting a match that had turned rather violent, very fast), he'd still gotten into that ring and given it his all, medically cleared or no. He'd put his own safety and well-being on the line for the company, and what did he get in return? A fucking liability waiver.

Seth suddenly found himself wondering why he'd let the old geezer into his room in the first place. He contemplated calling for the nurse, but decided against it.

"Whether or not you sign it is completely up to you, of course. I can't pressure you one way or the other." Vince raised his hands in a show of innocence, before rising and making his way toward the door.

Seth frowned, "And if I don't sign it?"

There was than thin, transparent smile again. "I hope to see it on my desk, first thing Monday morning."

Seth wasn't dumb, he could read between the lines. When Vince shut the door on his way out, he threw the manila folder onto the ground and screamed. Tears streaked down his face as he just let everything out in a gut-wrenching, heartbreaking scream. He'd lost everything, even his free will over the matter. He was little more than a chess piece to be played with.

The nurse came in a second later, just to see that he was alright. By that time, he was silent again, staring out the window into the dark, starry night.

The tears had stopped falling.

Roman just needed to be alone, needed to have time to think.

He'd made sure that Dean was out cold, before he'd left the comfort of the bed to go sit out on the balcony. He left the door to the hotel room slightly ajar, just in case something happened with Dean and he needed help.

There were two comfy recliners on the balcony, and Roman claimed the one that was closer to the ledge. He plopped down, putting his feet up and stretching out like a cat that had just stirred from a nap. The scent of cigarette smoke was thick in the air, and he knew that he wasn't really alone. There were others, just like him, out on their balconies that night.

Roman pushed that thought aside. Unwanted company aside, the silence was a much welcome companion.

They were finding out a lot about each other because of these miscarriages – things that they should've known from the start. If he'd known Dean better, perhaps he would've anticipated this inner-anger for being sterile. He would've seen the signs that he was bound to self-destruct eventually, and he would've been there to help prevent it.

If he'd known Seth better, he would've known how to talk him down in that elevator, instead of dismissing him so coldly. Seth must've felt like everyone and everything had turned their back on him then – even his own body. He should've known that Seth would react the way that he had, maybe then he wouldn't have run away.

It wasn't easy to be the big man, to be the stalwart protector that the other two needed. Like he'd said to Dean earlier, it was nice to have a reminder that he was needed – but on the other hand, he needed someone to comfort him, too.

It was difficult for him to accept the fact that he needed help, that he couldn't just struggle through on his own.

But they were his children, too. And he was beginning to lose hope, just like the others.

Instead of being able to tell his partners about this, however, he ended up bottling it up inside. It scared him, the concept of sharing these thoughts with others – what if there was no-one to comfort him?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the door open, or the soft pat-pat-pat-pat of approaching footsteps until a hand came to rest on his shoulder and a slightly smaller body climbed onto his lap. Dean burrowed down, making himself comfortable. Roman rested his chin on top of the dirty blond's head.

"Scared me when I woke up and you weren't there." Dean mumbled sleepily. He settled down, draping the blanket he'd brought with him over both their bodies. "Thought something had happened."

Roman kissed his temple. "Couldn't sleep, that's all."

Dean hummed contentedly. "Mind if I stay out here with you?" But his words were already slurred with sleep, and Roman knew he'd soon be out cold – he didn't have the heart to move him.

"I don't mind at all." How did Dean do it? How was he so okay with just allowing himself to be comforted?

But as he felt his own eyes begin to grow heavy, he realized that was a question for another day. Holding the smaller man a bit tighter, Roman pushed his earlier thoughts aside and allowed himself to drift off to sleep…