Hey, guys. Here's the next chapter for you. I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully the length makes up for it. Enjoy!

Glass disintegrating, melting, sounding like a wave crashing onto a sandy shore.

Explosions. Fireworks? The Fourth of July? In December?

Not fireworks. Gunshots.

Automatic. Rapid discharge. Over and over. Loud, so loud.

The screams…screams…fright, naturally. Discombobulation. Chaos. Hysteria here tonight. Never before and yet here tonight.

A strange kind of pain for what was happening. Should be worse. Is worse, probably, but shock functioned as a veneer. No time for his body to respond to the stabbing pain when his brain couldn't calculate just what the hell was going on.

An urge to move. Move forward. Why? Why not stay here? Is it safe here? It is safe nowhere. Stay. Rest. Bleed, most likely. You don't have to go anywhere. Let them come to you. Rest…rest…

A name.

Dean.

That's his motivation.

That is why he will not stay here.

Move…crawl…onward…keep moving…please…Dean…Dean…

TWO DAYS EARLIER

It would physically hurt for Roman to get up this morning.

He was cozy in his pocket of warmth underneath his blanket with Dean. Somehow even in slumber the two managed to hold tight to one another for the entire night. But Roman had class. He hated school in the moment. I'll drop out and work full-time at the coffeeshop, he thought, entwining his fingers with Dean's. Dean unconsciously reacted, giving his digits a gentle squeeze. Then I don't ever have to get out of bed.

Except to work.

I'll call in sick everyday forever. Live off unemployment checks. Then I really never have to leave this bed.

Roman chuckled. His brain sure was stupid on this drug called euphoria. He was only in school for another week or so. Then he'd take his finals and his first half of junior year would be down the drain.

So he had to get up. Get dressed. Go to school. Later, work. Even if he didn't, Dean would have to leave him at some point today. They'd be returning to their apartment to negotiate a lease break with their landlord. He hoped this would work.

He was hopeful.

Roman pushed out of bed and slipped into some sweats and a wrinkled t-shirt temporarily. He was still a bit too self-conscious to even wear pajamas to school. He like presenting himself at his best for his professors. He slipped out of the bedroom into an unexpectedly warm living room.

Seth was awake. He'd turned on the gas fireplace, which took little time to heat the area. Through the cracked blinds Roman caught a glimpse of the winter morn, still dark, the sun still slumbering like the lazy bastard it was. A fresh layer of snow overlaid the parking lot. The air was still. It was peaceful.

He pitied anyone who was trapped out in the cold, like at Acacia Park or anywhere downtown, with nowhere to calm home but the streets. He was thankful to Seth for rescuing Dean from such conditions.

The TV was also on, volume low, situated on a news channel. He'd figured out the television pretty quick. Seth was in the kitchen, dressed in a hoodie, sweatpants, long socks, and glasses. Sure enough, he looked damn cute in them as predicted. He leaned over the stove, stirring yellow fluid in a warm pan.

"Morning," Roman said.

Seth spun around and smiled. "Good morning."

"Since when do we have eggs?"

"Since last night. I picked some food up from our place. I went grocery shopping not too long ago, so they're still in date."

The toaster released two crisp pieces of toast. Seth swiped them and delivered them onto a waiting plate. The eggs were beginning to congeal. He lifted the glob into the spatula and flipped them over.

"Wow. Eggs and toast for breakfast. Where've you been all my life?" Roman asked.

Seth chuckled. "I lived on my own for a long time. It was learn to cook or resort to fast food each and every day. Plus, if I didn't cook for Dean, he'd probably starve."

"He can't cook?"

"Dunno. I just know he doesn't."

"He's so weird." Roman glanced at the TV as a story about a bear cub found in the garage of someone living downtown shifted to breaking news about a recent shooting in the city.

"Oh, here we go," Roman said. He hurried to the couch, grabbing the remote off the side table, to turn up the volume.

"A fight in the parking lot of a southern Colorado bar escalated when one of the people involved in the fight started shooting, according to police," the blonde reporter declared. She was replaced on the screen by a photograph of said bar. 15C. "The incident happened shortly before two AM Sunday on the 2500 block of E. Bijou Street near East Platte Ave. Police say two groups of people got into a fight, and at some point, multiple guns were allegedly drawn from the side of both parties. Twenty-four year old Antonio Cortez was shot in the head and died shortly after. Another man, twenty-six year old Luke Harper, was taken to the hospital with a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He is expected to recover. Most of the group had fled before police arrived, but two men were taken into custody."

She listed the names off and revealed mugshots, but neither of the men were Bray Wyatt. Neither of them looked to be Wyatt family members, either. Roman could only guess these were other men Dean had called pretending to be Bray, or perhaps a couple of Ace's accomplices.

He'd gotten away from the bloody brawl. Even he was even there from the start. Luke had taken a bullet for him.

One way or another.

"So what happened?" Seth asked. He couldn't hear the news over the sizzling pan.

"Fight outside the bar where the Wyatts are known to hang around. Guy who Dean first called ends up dead. Both his buddies are taken into custody. Luke Harper was shot in the shoulder. Bray was supposedly nowhere to be found."

"Really?"

"Well, he wasn't shot nor arrested. Either he ran like a little pussy, or he wasn't with his brother when Ace confronted Luke."

Seth removed the pan from the heat and reached for a salt shaker. "So these guys probably rounded themselves up to go confront Bray. Found Luke Harper instead. Shots were exchanged, but Ace's ended up being fatal. Police show up, and Ace's fellow gang bangers are dumb enough to let themselves get caught."

"It just fucking figures that Bray would escape. Again."

"He won't go far. Not if Luke is in the hospital. Want some breakfast?"

Roman turned the volume down on the TV once more. He didn't want to think about the Wyatts anymore right now. "Sure. I'd love some."

Roman set the table while Seth finished up the meals. He smeared jelly and butter over each slice of toast, and Roman helped himself to half. He sat across from Seth. He couldn't get over how adorable Seth looked, bundled up in warm clothing, unkempt hair, glasses. He was aware of the little crush he had on Seth. No feelings that would ever go anywhere, no romantic attraction that could overcome how he felt about Dean. He was crazy in love with Dean. He and Dean were meant to be. Perhaps in another life, if he'd known Seth first, if he'd met Seth under different circumstances, things would have been different.

"So what classes do you have today?" Seth asked. He tore into the toast with his teeth, leaving behind a smear of jelly on his upper lip. He licked it away. It reminded Roman of Dean.

"Abstract Algebra and Civil War and Reconstruction. I have them on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Then there's Microbiology I only have on Fridays, but it's a three-hour long class."

Seth made a face. "Too long for me. But I'm glad you enjoy it."

"Enjoy might be too strong a word."

"Tolerate it for the sake of a degree?"

"There we go." The boys giggled. "The classes start earlier, so they get out earlier, and I can be home sooner."

"Take your time. Dean and I have a full day ahead of us."

Dean wasn't awake by the time Roman had to leave for school, so he kissed his sleeping love on the head before trekking out into the rousing December morning. Be safe, Roman wished upon him.

It was a process that took a day and a half.

According to Seth the landlord had been merciful. He understood hard times and Seth didn't have to impose specifics of their situation. He'd put an ad for the apartment up on craigslist so help the landlord find a new tenant soon, per the arrangement on Seth's behalf. After splitting the price of the fee with Dean and dipping into a savings account, the boys were ready to move out.

Roman was out of school and assisted Dean and Seth in the move until he had to go to work. Seth rented a truck from the same company that had supplied Randy with a vehicle the day he left the apartment. They'd purchased a great amount of boxes from Home Depot along with a replacement door which Seth installed himself. It was dark again, early in standard winter fashion, by the time everything was transferred from Seth and Dean's place into Roman's apartment.

Dean scoffed when Seth told him he wouldn't be offended if Dean shared a bedroom with Roman.

"I share the apartment with both you guys," he'd said. "I've been on the streets. I don't need a room. They can both be partially mine."

The next morning, the boys went to Roman's landlord to discuss the situation. Roman didn't quite fill her in on details, either, nor did he mention Seth and Dean had already moved in and weren't planning on leaving whether she let them in on the lease or not. Fortunately there were no problems. Deposits were made (Roman had assisted here), background checks were cleared, and Seth and Dean spent the afternoon unpacking and arranging everything while Roman was in school.

Dean and Seth were both napping on the couch when Roman came home. He was amazed that every box was empty, stacked in a tower by the front door, and the place was orderly. It felt a bit smaller, slightly more cramped with the existence of both Dean and Seth's property, but it didn't bother him in the least.

Perhaps someday they'd live in a larger place together.

Perhaps a house.

He was pretty delighted to find a kitchen full of food. Not a completely stocked pantry or cabinets, but certainly more than he'd had before. He'd gotten away without grocery shopping for a little while now. He'd have to commit to that now that he had two additional mouths to feed as well as his own.

Since Seth had committed to making breakfast—the only one awake even earlier than Roman on most days—Roman decided to treat his new roommates to dinner. He browsed his options. He found many boxes of pasta in the pantry and couple of frozen chickens in the freezer above a bag of broccoli.

He got an idea.

Dean was the first to stir as Roman prepared dinner. He trotted into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Roman from behind.

"Hey, you," Dean said.

"Hey, yourself," Roman answered.

"What are we having?"

"Chicken and broccoli penne pasta."

"Shit, that's fancy," Dean said, sounding impressed.

"We can pretend it is. Most of this is store-brand."

Dean grinned. "Got any grape juice? We can pretend it's wine."

"No, but I have real wine. And beer."

Dean stuck out his tongue. "I hate beer. Too bitter."

"Whatever you want, love."

Dean ambled towards the fridge. "I'm glad I'm here with you, Roman. I really am. Despite the circumstances that drove me here."

"I'm happy you're here too, Dean."

"Seriously, though, I hope we're not barging in on your life."

Roman touched Dean's nose. "I've been indescribably happy since the day you barged in on my life. So continue barging."

"Will do," Dean said, snickering.

"God, you guys are loud," Seth said, stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Evening, Sleeping Fugly."

"Screw off." But Seth was smiling. "Anything I can help with, Ro?"

"You can sit your ass down and let me cook for you for a change," Roman said.

Seth scoffed. "Fine. See if I'm ever nice. To anyone. Ever again."

"Except me, right?" Dean asked. "You've gotta be nice to me."

"Nope. Especially not you. You make me sick, just looking at you."

Dean swatted Seth's arm playfully. Seth seized it and gently pinned it behind his back. Dean struggled to escape the hold, dropping to his knees.

"Hit me one more time and see what happens," Seth dared.

Dean accepted the challenge. He thrust his other elbow back, tapping Seth on the ribs. Seth wrestled Dean to the living room floor, pinning Dean's shoulders to the floor with his knees. Roman watched on, amused, slightly jealous.

"Apologize," Seth said warningly. "You know what's coming if you don't."

Dean's cocky little smirk spread over his face.

Seth prodded him in the ribs with his slim fingers. Dean burst into shrieking giggles, kicking his feet like a child throwing a tantrum, squirming helplessly under Seth's trained hold.

"Se-eh-eh-eh-eh-th!" he managed through laughter. "Knock it off!"

"Nope," Seth taunted. "I warned you."

"Ro-oh-oh-ma-ah-an! He-eh-eh-elp me-ee-ee!"

"Unbelievable," Roman said, temporarily leaving dinner on the stove, towering over Seth and Dean. Seth gave him a moment to breathe. "You're ticklish?"

"No?" Dean tried, when Seth targeted his ribs again. His defiance dissolved under his childlike laughter.

"Okay, yes!" Dean exclaimed. "Worse weakness than caramel!"

"Move over, Seth," Roman said. Dean was almost relieved when he added: "I want in."

"What?"

Roman dropped to his knees and assisted Seth in the assault on his poor ticklish love. Dean was awfully sensitive on his ribs, on his stomach, and he couldn't escape the twenty fingers that attacked him like tiny weapons. They tickled him until his laughter was breathy and particles of sweat clung to his face. They'd worn him out. Roman chuckled as Seth released him from the pin and Dean sat up.

"Fuck both of y'all," he said. "Seriously. I'll get you both back. Just you wait."

A cloud of steam was lifting from the pot. "Shit," Roman said, hurrying back to the kitchen before the food burned.

"Was it worth it, nearly ruining dinner just to pummel me like that?" Dean asked.

"It sure was," Seth laughed. "Pizza's just a phone call away."

Seth was the one to help set the table this time, and once Roman was finished, the three settled down for their first official meal together as roommates. Warm against the cold weather outside. Happy against the wretched world.

It was Thursday, and Roman was happy.

Instead of looking forward to his mysterious musician coming into Java Central tonight, he looked forward to the upcoming performance of his boyfriend, the talented and outlandish Dean Ambrose. He'd missed listening to Dean play, aching for his musical voice, even longing for the way he plucked the strings on his guitar. It had been a long while since Roman had a true sense of normalcy, and this would draw it right back into his life. Even if only for a little while.

"How've you been, Roman?" Dolph greeted him at work. Dean wasn't due for a while. Seth was coming tonight, too. It would be the first time Roman had ever seen them together at the coffeehouse during open mic night.

"I've been alright," Roman answered, straightening the dining room. "Hanging in there, you know? Living day by day." Trying not to worry about the Wyatt brothers coming after Dean or Seth or me for ultimately getting one of their own shot. But how would they know it was Dean, anyway? He wouldn't. Bray can't possibly link the two, can he? Or would he just assume Dean had a part in it?

"That's a good way to do it," Dolph said, interrupting his thoughts.

"How've you been?"

"Eh. Things have been better."

"You alright?"

"Eh…it's Lana. She thinks my ex is trying to make her way back into the picture." Dolph ran a damp rag over a dirty table.

"Is she?"

"She's been trying to get into contact with me. Writing on my Facebook wall, sending me texts. But it doesn't mean anything. Lana just gets freaked over the littlest things."

"Can you blame her? You are a stud."

Dolph laughed. "Thanks, Ro. Hopefully it all blows over soon. I fucking hate drama, dude."

"As do I."

To his surprise, Dean and Seth arrived with the swelling crowd half an hour until seven; not just after the night kicked off as Dean normally did. Roman greeted him with a smile and took their order. The largest of salted caramel mochas the coffeeshop had to offer. Seth ordered a panini, and Dean added two muffins to his mocha.

"Muffins for dinner?" Seth asked. Dean nodded, giving Seth a look like he shouldn't have believed anything otherwise. "Why do I even question these things anymore?"

They also sat a table close to the front. Not by the door.

This wasn't normalcy. This was much better.

Roman welcomed change as long as he was safe. As long as the people he actually cared about—as strange as the thought was—were safe.

Another break in Dean's former open mic night behavior: as soon as Curtis welcomed the multitude to Java Central and officially opened the microphone to pending performers, Dean snatched his guitar case and nearly sprinted onto the stage. He'd cut off two individuals who seemed just as surprised as Roman was that Dean actually wanted to go first. Roman decided he didn't want to stand behind the counter and watch Dean tonight. He reclaimed Dean's chair at the table with Seth. A front-row seat to the best show in the world.

"Hi, I'm Dean, and this is Annie," Dean said into the microphone, freeing his practically satiny instrument from her protective leather container. "And this one goes out to Roman."

He strummed a very familiar set of notes. It wasn't "More Than Words", but a fond tune that touched Roman deep down as a divine memory played like a vision in his mind.

"Would you dance if I asked you to dance?

Would you run and never look back?

Would you cry if you saw me crying?

Would you save my soul tonight?

Would you tremble if I touched your lips?

Would you laugh? Oh, please tell me this.

Now would you die for the one you love?

Hold me in your arms, tonight."

Tears pricked at the corner of Roman's eyes. He played with the Superman logo dangling from its chain. His entire face was smiling, a grin that went far beyond his mouth. Dean had never looked happier either. His singing lips remained uplifted, his beautiful eyes closed, as he hit the chorus they'd shared their first kiss to.

"I can be your hero, baby.

I can kiss away the pain.

I will stand by you forever.

You can take my breath away."

He opened his eyes for the slight pause, lifting them towards Roman. Roman's heart erupted. Dean carried on.

"Would you swear—"

The great glass windows suddenly shattered. Sharp blasts rang out, following the sound of the exploding glass.

Roman's first thought was, Are those fireworks? No, of course not. It was December, not July nor the end of the year. So what were they?

Gunshots, his mind could gather several seconds later.

Time moved faster than he was able to process it.

Someone was opening fire on the coffeeshop.

Then came another explosion, a detonation of screams from the terrified patrons. The little place was alit in loud terror, discombobulation. Glass breaking. Gunshots. Screams.

Roman grunted as he felt a sudden pain in his shoulder. Muscle spasm? What a strange conclusion. His body gave in on itself, and he collapsed to the floor.

What was happening?

He thought he heard someone scream his name.

There was no time to worry about himself, whatever pain this was. His thought process moved in slow-motion, but something was very, very clear to him. There were guns here. Danger was present. Someone was shooting. And whoever it was, whatever the reasoning behind it, he needed to protect Dean and Seth above all.

He put his own pain on hold and crawled forward. His vision was blurry and blackening. Nope, he commanded himself. Keep going. Don't pass out. Dean needs you. Seth needs you. He could barely make out what was two inches in front of his face, let alone Dean who seemed so far away, a hologram, a misty figure in the distance. He used his legs to push his body forward like an old turtle on the sand. Keep going. Keep going. Come on.

His body was enflamed with pain.

Still didn't know why.

Still didn't want to take the time to learn.

Couldn't stop moving.

Wanted to. But couldn't.

Dean. Seth. Dean…Dean and Seth…Dean…

The ground above him suddenly escalated. Ah, the stage, he realized. It took a bit more strength to make it over this particular hill. His entire figure felt frozen stiff. But it wasn't cold. Why can't I move any faster? For fuck's sake…

The world didn't make sense.

He didn't make sense to himself.

All that made sense was playing hero.

Funnily enough he could still hear Dean playing the song in his head in spite of the chaos around him. He was almost singing to himself like a loony as Dean's figure, sprawled on the stage like a fallen soldier, became clearer.

Was he losing his mind?

"Dean," he managed to say aloud.

"Ro?"

So he was alive. What a relief.

"Just hang on, Dean."

Success. Roman crawled on top of Dean and let himself rest.

Take me. Not him.

He'd made it.

Roman blacked out.