"Are you going to rent a hotel room and stuff?" for what it was worth, Sami was doing a better job than Shane had at hiding his enthusiasm over Dean asking Roman to prom; honestly, his brother had always done his best to be supportive, when it called for it. Shane was damn excitable more than half the time when it came to his sons and their better decisions, so sometimes it was nice to have a calmer support system.

Dean chews on the inside of his cheek, not sure if embarrassment or anxiety is winning the battle in his head. "'Mean, ah- Roman and I aren't really … I don't think he'd …"

A look crosses Sami's eyes then, perhaps close to sympathy. It hadn't ever become clear to Dean with clean-cut words what he and Roman were. Sure, they'd had the one date, and they'd kissed a couple of times, and made out … but Dean wasn't anybody anyone ever wanted. He was a bit too damaged, in his mind, a bit too emotionally compromised by his past.

As far as he knew, his parents didn't love him enough to clean up their fucking acts, did they?

Any note of affection had him worrying in the back of his head, because any touch, any feeling he had that was remotely positive was always temporary. He wouldn't be promised a forever. The one good thing he had that came close to it was his family, but eventually they'd all have their own lives to lead. Eventually, like after he graduated, he'd be moving out and working full-time and even then it wouldn't feel quite so permanent anymore when he wasn't waking up to Shane's makeshift breakfasts and Sami's eloquent dinners.

One day, he'd be alone again.

"It isn't like you have to get one," Sami assuaged then, patting his brother's shoulder when it seemed like he was trapped in his head again. Sami to the rescue. "And even if you do, it doesn't always mean you have to … do things there. Someone's bound to spike the punch, yeah, so wouldn't you want to sleep it off at a hotel?"

Blinking the rest of his anxieties away until they were a mere shadow in his thoughts, Dean purses his lips. "I guess. Dunno about what Ro wants, but …"

The nickname slipped out.

Oh no.

It wouldn't have been such a big deal, if not for Sami's shit-eating grin that he knows, he knows he got from him. God. Dammit.

"Ro, huh? You don't do nicknames - must really like him, huh?"

Dean suddenly wishes this conversation could be over, as he pulls his knees up to wrap his arms around and push his burning face into them. "Shut the fuck up, Zayn, I swear-"

But Sami's indifferent to the threat as he bumps his brother's side with a teasing elbow. "Dean and Roman sitting in a tree~"

And if Dean suddenly dies from bursting into flames, it'll all be Sami's fault.

School gets progressively easier over the next couple of days, though there's no shortage of pummeling Owens every time he sees him, or sharing biting - but, surprisingly, not fighting - words with Rollins. Monday, Dean buys the tickets like he promised, and promptly ignores the confused looks he gets because the who would ever agree to go with you? is plainly visible on their faces.

And does that hurt? Honestly? A little bit, but he's used to it.

School, work, home. It's a never-ending cycle, but it's normal. Dean never passes down normal.

Thursday: Dean's day off.

Thursday: Shane's day off also.

The latter picks the former up from school early, casually spitting out some excuse about an important appointment he has to make, but Dean is completely unaware of the fact that this 'appointment' is a fitting. And when he comes to the realization, brown-and-blue's face is a hilarious motion picture of fear, embarrassment, and then (Shane's favorite) quiet, embarrassed acceptance.

His father all but drags him into the store and, when he's asked if there's anything the clerks can help them with, it's like he's been thrown to the wolves.

"Dean's here to get fitted for a tux." Little shove.

Bigger shove when he tries to shrink away from greedy fingers.

Sigh.

"Come with us, sir, we'll make sure you're taken care of," says an older woman with eyes glittering in what Dean would honestly mistake for malice if not for her carefully poised fingers on his bicep.

They walk out of the shop tuxedo-less, but after there's an unfortunate run-in with Dean's temper when someone tries to urge him to shed his pants so they could measure his calves, thighs and hips, they do have to pay a small fee for the broken mirror.

So, shopping trip was a fail, but Shane soothes the raging Dean by taking him to a more casual clothing store.

"As long as you look nice, I suppose there's no reason to overpay." Shane had said.

They walked out of that clothing shop much more successful, though his father did have to scold him for almost walking out with a bright-blue suit jacket and matching pants. "Nice. Not tacky."

How rude.

It had been a while since he'd had an afternoon with his best friend, and Roman could honestly admit that he'd not been very worried about it the last few weeks; all his life, it had been him and Seth, from the moment they'd met … a couple of boys who met from a business deal gone right and going strong, but. But.

It had also been nice to meet somebody new, somebody like Dean: refreshing, private, an enigma that made his lips tingle with questions he wanted to ask, and lately, tingle with something else.

He cared a great deal about Dean Ambrose, but lately, he'd had all his time. Roman could own up to his own mindlessness when it came to Seth, but it wasn't like he ever said anything. That he'd heard, anyway. But he had been texting Dean, and talking over the phone with Dean over the past few days constantly, and since he'd be spending the next weekend with him at prom, well… he had a lot to make up for.

"So. What movie you wanna go see?" Seth's voice piped up from beside Roman, fingers tucked into the pockets of his skinny jeans; Roman had never seen the practicality of the form-fitting clothes his best friend had always worn, but he always figured 'to each their own'. If Seth was comfortable wearing him, it didn't matter what he thought. Even if he teased him relentlessly about how they only accentuated that he had no ass.

Even if he did.

But that was beside the point.

Looking up from his phone screen, where he had looked up what movies were going to be playing, he fixed Seth with a look that resembled frustration; there wasn't anything playing outside of a couple of romantic comedies, some thriller, a cartoon… he was in the mood for something else, some action or stuff blowing up. Those other things didn't really tickle his fancy, and when the other saw the look on his face, he only laughed.

"Not anything I wanna see," Roman responded, showing the other the screen so that he could read through it himself. He seemed to hum thoughtfully, maybe at the thriller, but the Samoan took his phone away before he could dwell on that. "Could always just stay in and turn on Netflix. I can order some take-out."

That seemed to lighten the other's mood, Rollins nodding enthusiastically; they had taken refuge in the finished basement, where there was a big-screen TV and a wrap-around couch. Roman had gotten out of work early and Seth hadn't any homework to do, so at Roman's request they had bundled up in the basement and tried to plan out what they should do to make up for lost time.

Flashing his friend a grin, Roman stands up and starts punching in the number for the Chinese place, ordering enough for the two of them. Seth's never eaten quite as much as he had, even now, wanting to keep a lean figure, but he goes right ahead and orders himself something beefy slathered in sauce. Hanging up his phone and walking right back toward the couch, he sits back against it and places his phone between them.

"45 minutes. Let's get somethin' started, here."

The movie held maybe half of the Samoan's attention, because about halfway through, he got a text message from Dean.

He had been tempted not to answer it, but Seth, around a mouthful of rice and vegetables, pointed with his fork toward the buzzing between them. Uttering a small apology, he picked up the phone and punched in his password before he saw that the message was a picture message.

Butterflies swam in his stomach for maybe a moment - he doubted it was a dirty picture, but when hadn't a picture message been one? They had been with his ex. Pursing his lips and opting to open it anyway, he breathes out slowly as he sees the light-brunet standing in a black suit jacket, unbuttoned with a pale blue dress shirt underneath. It's only from the waist up, and Roman hopes to God he isn't wearing jeans, but doesn't think that thought for more than a few seconds before his eyes float up to look at his face.

Dean's hair is pushed back a little, exposing his pale forehead, his eyebrows raised and eyes big and looking a little too innocent. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, he's sure he sees it, and it makes his own lips pull into a smile.

"Wha's that?" Seth isn't the type of guy to look over his shoulder, but he's far from not-nosy, and Roman looks at him as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Pursing his lips, eyes wide slightly, gray flicks back to the screen before huffing a sigh.

"Dean sent me a picture."

"Ambrose? What's he doing sending you pictures?"

The way he says it is enough to make the Samoan's hackles rise, his voice reaching a low rumble. "He asked me to prom, and he sent me what he's wearin'. What have you got against him anyway, huh? He's a good dude, man, if you'd just-"

"I don't need your goodie-good character speech, Rome. I've known him for a long time. He ain't the guy you think you know, and you'd know that if you paid any attention."

"To what? Look, I like him a lot. So, he's got secrets? So do I. So do you. We don't have to tell each other everything when I've only known 'im for like, a month. What's the big deal? What have you got against him?"

Seth rolled his eyes, letting out a groan of frustration, and Roman reached across to swat him behind the head. "Hey!"

"Tell. Me."

"Ugh, fine!" Reaching forward to grab the remote, he pauses the movie, setting his food on the small table in front of them. Crossing his arms like an obstinate child, pouting like one too, he glares at his jean-clad thighs. "I mean, there's the time he attacked me when we were younger - broke my arm and bit me and beat me 'til I was bloody! He's a fuckin' lunatic, and he gets off on it all, too, like- he belongs in a fuckin' asylum, man, that shit ain't normal."

Roman processes this, but isn't buying that it's the complete story. "Is that your piece? That's why you won't give him a chance?"

"Hell yeah!" he says, as if the answer should be obvious. Rollins reaches back forward to grab the remote when his friend doesn't say anything else, presses play, picks up his food.

All Roman does is stare for a few more seconds before he types back:

Looks good ;)
Think you could be ready for a date in an hour?

He doesn't put his phone back down until he gets the reply, which is immediate, but he can't bring the smile on his lips to his eyes.

hell yeah.

A short time ago, I posted a picture to my Tumblr (cookiethewriter - I'll re-find the picture again so y'all can see) which was pretty much what Dean sent to Roman. Give or take a more prom-like, formal version. At least you'll get a feel for what he'll look like.

But ooh, Roman finally confronted Seth about Deano! People have been asking about that, and I hope this is alright. (The original plan was supposed to be that Roman and Seth would get in a big fight over it. I dimmed it down for ya.)

How did you all like it?

~Cookie