FIRST OF ALL: you guys are amazing. No, seriously. Reviews do make me happy, but the support I got following the last chapter was overwhelming. This story is my heart and soul, my baby, one of my finest projects, and the fact that I have so much support not just with this particular story, but as a writer in general, is so encouraging. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

NOW. This deliciously fluffy, romantic chapter is one of the longer ones of the story. Hope y'all don't mind. ;) I felt the boys did deserve a bit more happiness in their lives before things start to go south again.. But let's not focus on that now. For now, just enjoy some solid Ambreigns~

Roman woke up alone in the apartment. Seth must have left for work.

He didn't have to report to his own job until later in the afternoon, giving him the chance to head downtown and pick up Dean. The morning was cold but clear, sun brilliant in the ice-blue sky. The weather shouldn't have been insufferable anymore as it had been last night. Still, Roman was itching to get Dean out of that park. He hoped sleeping on the streets again was a one-time, impulsive thing and now that he'd gotten it out of his system, Dean could come home and sleep in his bed tonight.

He didn't have to execute a full manhunt throughout downtown Springs to find Dean. In fact, Roman parked his car after spotting Dean exactly where Roman had dropped him off fourteen or so hours ago: on the stage in the middle of the park.

And he wasn't alone.

In fact, a rather sizable group was on the stage and just off of it. Many of them were smoking while the men on stage engaged in a concert of their own. Dean and Jake were on guitar; a scruffy man with a newsboy cap was keeping time with two rigid hands on a tall bongo drum.

Roman recognized the song though by this point it was halfway over.

"Still a little bit of your song in my ear

Still a little bit of your words I long to hear

You step a little closer to me

So close that I can't see what's going on…

Stones taught me to fly

Love, it taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannon

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to cry

So come on, courage, teach me to be shy

Cause it's not hard to fall

And I don't wanna scare her

It's not hard to fall

And I don't wanna lose

It's not hard to grow

When you know that you just don't know."

Dean's voice was wonderful, Roman knew this for certain, but he was impressed with the way Jake's resonating vocals knitted with Dean's in immaculate harmony. After a long acoustical outro, Dean threw his head back and blew a kiss to the limpid sky. "Beautiful!" he hollered. He'd yet to notice Roman. The others applauded them. Jake slapped Dean's back.

"You're good, kid."

Roman drew his wallet out and tugged a five-dollar bill from the fold, then dropped it into what must have been Jake's open guitar case, based on its decaying condition.

"Yo, thanks, man," one of the smokers called to him from the ground.

"You guys take requests?" Roman asked. "How about an encore?"

Dean looked up and over at him. Roman was warmed by the way his face ignited at the sight of him, from his bright eyes to the sudden lift of his smile. "Roman!" he cheered. He leaned Caroline cautiously against the stage, then hopped off to bundle Roman in his arms. His fingers pushed into Roman's back through his coat.

"I really missed you," Dean said.

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"I missed you last night, too."

Only when Dean pulled away did Roman notice the hazy mass of purple underneath his right eye. Roman felt deflated. Had something happened? Of course something happened, it was Dean.

"Where'd you get that?" Roman asked, lifting a finger towards Dean's black eye.

Dean touched his hand to his cheek. "Oh yeah. So, here's what went down. Sid and Bret here…" He waved towards two of the guys sharing a cigarette on the cold sidewalk. "They got jumped last night by a couple of thugs. Jake witnessed it, and we jumped in to help. Thugs got away, but not before getting a couple of hits in on Jake and me."

"If they'd just asked, I woulda told 'em I didn't have nothin' on me," the blond of the two men stated. Roman didn't know if this was Sid or Bret. "Look at me. Do I look like a fucking doctor? Ain't got enough to support my nicotine addiction, ain't got nothing to give to no thugs."

Dean continued, "One of the guys started yelling after us, 'We'll be back! We've got homies and we'll fucking kill you!' And I'm like, 'Yeah, yeah, that's not the first time I've heard that one.'"

Roman swallowed hard. The arid winter air made his throat hurt. "Then what happened?"

"We told Sid and Bret to stick with us. Safety in numbers. Guys didn't end up coming back, but it was better to stay in a group, anyway."

"Why didn't you just come home?"

Dean's head tipped, lips mangled, as though Roman's proposition was unlawful and immoral. "I wasn't gonna leave them alone. I wanted to stay close by, to protect them. You can relate to that, right?"

Roman smiled, still a bit uneasy. "Guess I can. I just don't want you making any more enemies. We already might have Abigail Wyatt to deal with." His figure went stiff. His lips sewed themselves shut. Why did I have to say that? Things were fine.

Dean knitted his brows. "Oh, shit. I forgot about her. I wouldn't worry too much, though. Not a lot she can do now that her most powerful resources have been cut off."

"You're not worried at all?"

Dean snorted. "Of course not. She's, like, a toothpick. Tall-ass woman, but what can she do? Reach the top shelf of a grocery store and throw something at us from up there? She ain't gonna do shit."

"If you're sure." Roman wasn't. But he appreciated Dean's indifference. Perhaps he was overreacting.

Or perhaps…

"Hey, buddy, did you say something about an encore?" the man at the bongo drum asked Roman. His leathery fingers rapped against the skin of his instrument.

"We can do one more, Ryan, then I gotta go. Life's calling me back."

"Lucky you got a life," Sid/Bret—the not-blond—said.

"My life is awesome, Bret. Don't worry. Never too late, 'long as you're still alive."

Dean's attitude around these guys was no different than Roman was accustomed to, yet merely witnessing him in the presence of these homeless men—men he used to be part of, living with sans an address—put him in a different light than Roman was used to. He wasn't reckless out here; he was brave. He wasn't rash; he was street smart. Independent. In this moment, Dean didn't need Roman.

It kind of hurt to think about.

Roman liked thinking Dean needed him, not in a desperate, pathetic, "terribly influential" way that Seth's parents viewed him. But in this life, nobody needed nothing. Everyone needed something, someone.

Roman needed Dean.

And it was a satisfying feeling to consider that Dean just so happened to need him the very same way.

Dean returned to the stage, scooping his cherished instrument into his talented hands. "What should we play?"

"Hey, what about that one we learned last summer when that local band came here?" Jake suggested.

"Gonna have to be more specific than that, partner."

"The one about rules and religion and all the bosses getting fired."

"Oh. Oh!" Dean exclaimed. "Yeah, I remember that one. It sounds way better on an electric, though."

"Ambrose, you could make entrees from a Chinese menu sound good on acoustic. You know the notes. Start it up; I'll join in."

Dean chuckled, tongue gliding between his teeth. God, he was sexy. Roman would never forget it. A daily reminder was a blessing. "Okay. I think I remember the words, considering how much I practiced it."

"If there's a song Dean could say was written just for him, it's this one," Jake said, nodding to Roman. "Said it himself, he did."

Roman gently lowered himself to the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs, curious about the song. Sid offered him the communal cigarette. Roman put his hand up to politely deny. He hoped he wouldn't have a coughing fit due to the lingering smoke.

Dean began the lyrics with a simple strum.

"I hear voices in my head, they council me, they understand, they talk to me…"

Jake joined in on the strumming after observing Dean play for a few seconds. Dean carried into the first verse alone.

"You got your rules and your religion

All designed to keep you safe

But when rules start getting broken

You start questioning your faith

I have a voice that is my savior

Hates to love and loves to hate

I have a voice that has the knowledge

And the power to rule your fate

I hear voices crying

I see heroes dying

I taste blood that's drying

I feel tension rising…"

Jake joined in with the next chorus.

"I hear voices in my head, they council me, they understand, they talk to me, they talk to me

They tell me things that I will do, they show me things I'll do to you, they talk to me, they talk to me…"

Roman could certainly understand why Dean applied the song to his personal life. An inner voice that channeled his actions as opposed to any earthly authority that tried to prove him wrong, or even right.

Roman listened to the rest of the song, absorbing its meaning without fully accepting it as his own beliefs, loving the hell out of Dean's voice. What stood out the most to him wasn't just how smooth his vocals were, but how assertive he was whenever he played. He was a damn good musician and he was fully aware of it. His voice was powerful. He swept the pick over the strings with brawn.

Passersby were scant on a cold morning like this, but of the few people who did trot past in coats clutching coffee cups and briefcases, a fraction of those few ended up dropping some money into Jake's guitar case. Dean didn't interrupt his song, but thanked each kind person with a smile that heated Roman's exposed skin.

He clapped for them when the song was over, but Dean didn't look too thrilled as his head lifted. "Ah, fuck," Dean groaned. His beautiful eyes closed. "So much for a good morning."

"Hey, guys, you can't be playing out here." The thundering voice from behind Roman surprised him, and he twirled around to see a policeman bundled up, swaggering towards the group. "Got two calls from that church on the corner complaining about you."

"It's Saturday, though," Sid said, cocking his head.

"Doesn't matter. Come on, move out. Now." The officer waved his gloved hand towards the small assembly.

"Just take the grease," Dean said, quoting a line from the second verse of his last song. He started packing Caroline up.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Dean was agitated. Roman quietly begged him to just cooperate so they could get home. He clutched the locked guitar case and shuffled towards Roman. "Let's go home. I'm starving."

The officer stayed put until everyone had cleared the area. Roman walked hastily away from the scene, while Dean seemed to lag behind. Roman had to wait for him a couple of times before they were finally walking at the same pace.

Dean drew his e-cigarette from his pocket. "Shit's starting to taste awful," he said. "Gotta get a new one."

"Are they expensive?"

"Sometimes. Depends on the quality. You want a nice one, you gotta cough up a few extra bucks. Usually it's not a problem for me. Is it a problem for you? Me smoking this, I mean?"

"N-no," Roman lied. "I mean, I guess it's better than regular cigarettes, but I don't know much about them health wise and—"

Dean took one long drag from the device, then chucked it into a metal trash can. "Should probably cut back, anyway. Won't kill me to ease up on 'em. So how was your night?"

"Um." Was now the time to bring the subject up? Was any time "the time"? "It was alright," he started out, testing himself on how far he'd go. "We didn't do much. Just hung out."

"Seth probably talked about what an idiot I am, huh?"

Roman blushed, embarrassed for Seth. "He might have used the word a couple of times."

"I know it. No secret that he kinda resents me for my manners sometimes. It's just who I am. He accepts the rest of me just fine."

"He accepts all of you."

"Yeah. Guess that's true. Even when he doesn't think he does."

They reached the car. Inside, Roman turned the engine over and cranked the heat up, but he didn't begin to drive. Not yet. "Something else came up, too."

"Yeah?" Dean didn't touch his seatbelt.

Roman's insides twisted into sailor's knots that were unable to be untethered; only cut or torn apart. "Remember on Christmas morning…when you asked me if I liked Seth?"

Dean tucked his hands under his arms to warm them up. "Yep. You never answered me, so I figured the answer was yes."

How was Dean able to look him in the face right now? Was he not upset?

"You're…handling that news pretty well."

"Are you about to tell me the two of you went to bed together last night?"

"Oh, no, no. God, no."

"Anything happen that could have led to that?"

"No. Absolutely not."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So what's the problem then?"

Roman was in disbelief. "There…isn't one?"

"Of course not. Roman, I love you." Dean freed one of his hands from its warm pleat to hold Roman's on his leg. "I trust you with all my heart, and trust me, that ain't an easy thing to come by. Ask Seth. He's the only one—the only other one—in the world that I trust with everything I am. I wouldn't expect you to do anything to jeopardize our relationship. Nor would I expect that kinda shit from Seth."

Roman stared at their intertwined hands. "I've been cheated on, and let me tell you, there's no worse feeling than giving someone your all, and learning they never gave a damn what you did for them…gave it all to someone else…it's fucking miserable. I'd never do that to anyone, especially not you."

"And there you go. That's why I trust you. Just you confessing this to me, expressing guilt just for thinking this way, proves how much you love me. As easy as it would be for you to bone Seth while I'm at work or something and hush up about it when I'm around."

"Well, I'm a terrible liar."

"This is true. Still. You're not that guy, Roman. You're this guy. And I love this guy. This guy is the one Jake told me to shut the fuck up about five or six times last night alone."

Roman smiled. "Really?"

"Honest to God. I told him about your job at the coffeehouse, and how you're a year away from graduating college, and how we met, and how I fell in love with you over a plate of pancakes."

"That's the moment you knew you loved me? That night at Wayside?"

"Yep. As soon as you took my hand and said you were 'very much' interested in me, I thought, 'Fuck, I'm in trouble.'"

Roman was gratified for the romantic profession. "That's adorable as hell."

"Yeah, yeah. What about you? When did you realize you were head over heels in love with a lunatic?"

"Hmm. That's a tricky one. There were moments I knew I wanted you, moments I thought maybe I was on my way falling in love with you…then moments I couldn't deny it any longer."

"I wanna hear all of them."

"Here and now? I might have to think about that."

"Fine. Make me wait. I'm over here shitting out sap, and you're all quiet and smiling."

Roman got an idea. "Hey. Do you remember what we talked about after that shower we took together, about being a normal couple and doing normal couple things? Like dates?"

"I think we've had one or two of those already, but yeah, I'd be down for more."

"What say you to a date tonight? Do you work?"

"No. You?"

Roman winced inwardly. Thanks, job, for the interference. "I do. But I'm off at seven."

"Awesome. That'll give me time to make myself all pretty at home."

Roman smiled. "I can even pick you up at the door. After breaking into your house and changing from my work clothes into a nice outfit from your closet."

"I wouldn't want my dates to do anything else."

"We deserve it, Dean." Roman rubbed the top of Dean's hand. Seth wasn't even on his mind anymore. "We really do. I want you to know how much you mean to me. It's hard to put into words."

"It is, isn't it? Think that's why I love that song so much. Use more than words to show me how you feel. Then I know it's real."

"You do know it's real already though, right?"

"Of course. But I appreciate reminders."

"I'm more than happy to deliver there."

Dean leaned on Roman's shoulder. "You should probably drive now, before you waste all your gas just sitting here."

"Okay, but first…" Roman swooped his head down and planted a kiss on Dean's lips. He watched as the mouth he'd just smooched elevated.

"See?" Dean asked, sounding breathless. "That kiss said a lot without saying anything at all."

"That was the idea."

Seth still wasn't home from work by the time Roman had to leave for his shift. Dean was stoked about having the place to himself. He asked Roman how "elegantly" he had to dress for this evening. Roman said he didn't have a specific plan yet, but it would be fun to dress up in suits and go somewhere nice.

"Do we have to?" Dean asked. "I mean, I'd love to go somewhere nice, but you don't have to break the bank over me."

"I'd like to. And don't worry about money with me, okay? Just worry about what you're gonna do with that bedraggled hair of yours tonight."

Dean fingered the ends of his mane. "I don't know what bedraggled means, but I'm guessing it means hot and sexy, because I know how much you love my hair."

"I do. Bedraggled just means unkempt, untidy."

"Oh, I see how it is. Fine. I'll comb it back for you, nice and pretty."

Roman laughed. "You can do whatever you want to it. I don't care how you look. Society might, but I sure don't."

"Society can kiss my bare ass. I'll ride through this town naked if I feel like it."

"Maybe save that one for the fifth date."

Dean held the front door open for Roman. "Have a good day at work, sweetie pie."

"We a couple from the fifties now?"

"Golly gee, we could be." Dean kissed his nose. "See you tonight, Superman."

Roman heard Dean fasten the lock behind the closed door. He missed Dean already.

Dolph was off today, so Roman went through the motions of his shift in solitude. Dean had reacted surprisingly calm to his indirect confession to crushing on Seth. Was he truly unperturbed by the information? If he wasn't, he was great at hiding any sort of animosity. Or did Dean truly have so much faith in Roman that even admittance of feelings for another couldn't bother him if they tried?

Roman was honored to receive that kind of trust, if that's what the case was, if Dean was being honest. He was excited to prove to Dean that he was right to trust him. He'd never let Dean down, never let him go.

Perhaps this was the motivation he needed to get over this stupid crush.

Work dragged, even for a Saturday. Business was good, but Roman's thrill for his evening plans kept seven o'clock as far away from him as time could possibly allow. Finally after watching the minutes drag, he clocked out on time and left the coffeehouse without talking to anyone.

Having friends was nice. He'd missed Dolph today.

I'll get him a Christmas present and then take him up on that offer to hang out soon.

At home, Roman unlocked the door. He only managed to get one foot inside before he heard Dean cry from within, "NO! I'm not ready yet!"

Roman paused.

Seth pulled the door open from inside a minute later. "He's in the bathroom now. He wanted to see your face when he was fully ready."

Roman stepped into the warm establishment. "Going 'Sharp-Dressed Man' on me tonight?"

"Oh, yeah. He's excited about it. It's adorable. Like watching your kid get ready for their first school dance."

"You use a lot of kid analogies with him. Are you sure we're not just his fatherly figures and he's our son?"

"Sure feels that way sometimes, huh?" Seth chuckled, but there wasn't much humor tacked onto the gently laugh.

"How are you feeling?"

Seth shrugged. "I'm alright. How are you?"

"Great. Wonderful, actually."

"That's good to hear. So you and Dean talked earlier." It sounded like it should have been a question, yet it wasn't.

"We did."

"He told me about it. We talked, too."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Can you believe how chill he was about it? Took me by surprise."

"Yeah, no kidding. I can't say I've ever had a buddy confess to me that he's into the person I'm dating, but I can't imagine I'd sit back and pretend like he didn't even say anything."

"Dean's mature."

"In some ways, yes."

Roman smiled.

"So…time to get over whatever it is I'm feeling then," Seth said, scratching behind his head.

His voice lowered. "Yeah. You and me both." Would it be as easy as he'd felt it would be earlier? Perhaps…?

"Hey, what are you doing standing around here for?" Seth tapped Roman's leg with his foot. "You've got a date to get ready for. Go, go."

"Yes, sir, right away."

It was dismaying, realizing once again how few "nice" outfits Roman owned compared to his enormous stockpile of nerdy t-shirts and plain jeans. He came across a light blue, long-sleeved button up shirt and a navy blazer he hadn't worn since he first started applying for jobs and attending interviews. Not that the blazer had helped much in landing him a position at the coffeeshop. The place wasn't ornate. He wore a plain white shirt underneath the button up and the nice jacket, and settled for a pair of black jeans with no holes. He combed his hair out long and straight. He wished Randy was here to decorate him with accessories again. But the watch helped add opulence to the outfit, and his Superman pendant never came off for anything. Besides a ring Roman had owned forever and couldn't even remember where he purchased it or why, he didn't have much else to add.

Dean wouldn't care.

Roman creaked his bedroom door open and poked his head out. Seth was in the living room. Dean must have still been in the bathroom. The door was closed. "Okay, let's make this all official," Roman said. He crossed the floor. "How do I look?"

"Hot piece of ass."

Roman dismissed it as a joke. "Thanks."

Roman stepped into a nice pair of shoes, let himself out of the apartment, pulled the door closed, then spun around and pressed the doorbell.

A few seconds later, Seth opened it for him again.

"Hi, my name is Roman Reigns. I'm here to take out your son figure, Dean Ambrose. I don't intend to bring him home on time, there's a good chance we'll be making out in the car, and of course I intend to sleep with him and never call him back."

"I appreciate your honesty, good sir. Please, come into my home and take advantage of my soft, sensitive son-figure."

"The pleasure of using him, then leaving him heartbroken and downcast for many months."

Seth and Roman cracked up. "Hey, Dean, your date's here!" Seth called.

"Perfect timing."

The bathroom door pulled open. Dean stepped into the subdued light of the living room.

Roman's mouth fell open.

Dean had dressed up nice on Christmas Eve for the miserable trip to Seth's parents' house, and he'd looked handsome, sure, but it was obvious he'd dressed just for the sake of dressing. He hadn't looked much like himself that night. Tonight…tonight Roman was captivated by his physical presence alone. Dean Ambrose was his very best, the very best for Roman. A maroon cashmere sweater over some white shirt; a pair of blue jeans that were surprisingly not the ones he wore religiously, held up by a brown belt; the tiny stud earring back in its rightful place; some cologne wafting off him; the bracelet fashioned from Annie's strings on his wrist.

"I'm guessing by that look on your face, I look hideous and I should probably change?" Dean asked.

"You're so…just…wow."

"I'll take 'wow.' 'Wow' is good."

"What are you boys up to tonight?" Seth asked.

"I'm taking him to this Italian eatery in Crystal Park," Roman divulged. "Savelli's."

"Oh, I hate that place," Dean said, making a face.

"Really?"

"No. I've never heard of it."

"Ah. You're in for a treat."

"Make good choices," Seth told them at the door.

"Yes, Mom," Dean mocked.

"Guess that makes you Dad, Roman."

Roman chuckled. "We already knew I was the father."

"We'll text you when we're on our way home so you can kick out all the hookers before we get back," Dean said.

"That's very considerate of you, Dean," Seth said. "Thanks. Good night, guys."

Roman unlocked the car, then opened up the passenger side for Dean. "Such a gentleman," Dean said, squeezing into the seat. Roman crawled into the driver's seat. Dean was about to say, or ask, him something, but Roman didn't allow the words into the air. He thrust his lips against Dean's, kissing him hard. He'd been waiting to do that since laying eyes on Ambrose. But he wanted to respect Seth.

"Damn, Roman, night hasn't even started yet," Dean said, dazed.

"Sorry. I get impatient."

"Hey, so do I."

Roman started the car.

"Did you think of an answer to my question earlier?"

"I'll tell you at dinner."

"Man, we're just talking about feeling impatient, and now you're making me wait even longer." Dean leaned forward and switched the radio on. Aerosmith filled the car. Dean drummed to the rhythm with his hands on his knees.

The restaurant was hectic, but Roman had called ahead to reserve a table in the middle of the dinner rush. It was only a five-minute wait before they were seated. For such a hectic time, the restaurant managed to stay quiet and restful. Soft Italian opera music played over the speakers. The servers voices' were muted, and conversation was held at low volumes. This place was quite the opposite of Dean.

"Jesus," Dean said, frowning at the menu. "Eight bucks for a antipasto salad."

"You're getting a salad?" Roman asked.

"No. Just saying. That's a lot for a bowl of lettuce and cheese."

"That one comes with a lot of meat."

"Ah. That explains the pricing, then. It's a man's salad."

A male server approached the table. Good, no cute, giggling female to hit on Dean tonight. But a guy could just as easily hit on Roman's date as a woman could. "What can I get you guys to drink?"

"Two waters," Roman said, taking charge, "and could we please order a bottle of the Muscato?"

Dean blinked at the unfamiliar term.

"Absolutely," the server said. He made off with the drink order.

"Muscato is what, a wine?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. But it's really sweet. You'll love it."

Dean grinned. "You know me so well."

Roman couldn't stop smiling. Already his cheeks were aching. He couldn't help it. It would take a heartless ass not to feel so happy right now. The love in his heart, the love for Dean, was sincere and absolute. Nothing he'd ever felt before. Not with anyone.

Dean's eyes lowered to the menu. "Come on, Ro. Quit looking at me like I'm a piece of meat."

"Yeah, how dare I admire your natural attractiveness, inside and out."

"Inside, huh? What do my lungs look like? Are they pretty sexy?"

"Eh. I'm more partial to your spleen."

"Ha. Joke's on you. I had that removed when I was ten."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because I'm a master manipulator." Dean rolled his eyes. "According to some."

The server delivered the waters and the bottle of wine. Roman ordered an eggplant parmesan; Dean looked revolted at the mention of it. Dean had trouble choosing between a chicken fettuccine Alfredo and a simple lasagna. He finally settled on the lasagna, admitting he only chose the latter because it was cheaper than the fettuccine.

"Dean, I told you, money's no object tonight."

"You don't need to blow a ton of dough on me to make me happy. We didn't even need all this."

"I know. But I like it."

"I like you."

"I love you. What now?"

Dean held his hands up. "Oh, shit, got me beat there."

Roman hoped Dean's voice wasn't carrying to the other quieter tables.

"Speaking of love—"

"I have my answer," Roman stated.

"Killer." Dean rubbed his hands together, then folded them atop the table. "First was the moment you knew you wanted me."

"The very first night you played at Java Central."

Dean pulled a whistle through his lips. "Wow. That long ago, huh?"

"From the start, something just fascinated me about you. I never really did figure out what it was, but I was so excited for the first and third Thursdays of every month, because I knew you'd be in to play."

"Was I your favorite singer of them all?"

"Without question."

"Ha. Take that, 'Smoke on the Water', you Fedora-wearing fuck."

Roman winced again at his abrupt language. "Oh, come on. You probably brandish a Fedora hat from time to time."

Dean smiled sheepishly. "I used to, actually. When I first got here, I never took mine off. Then I saw Bray Wyatt wearing one all the time. Realized they don't look so good."

Roman didn't want that name to linger in their evening. "I could never do anything about it because you were a stranger to me. I just admired you from afar."

"Creeper. Totally kidding. Go on."

"The night you actually talked to me after the show for the first time, I was completely shocked. I never thought I'd get the chance to actually converse with you. It was like meeting a celebrity."

"That's sweet, Ro." Dean took a sip of the wine. His eyes bulged at the taste. "Holy shit, this is amazing. You were right." He took another drink, longer. "Don't let me get hammered in here. I'll ruin everyone's good time."

"I won't. What came next?" Roman queried. "When I thought I might be falling for you?"

"Yeah. You remember the very first time?"

"I remember one of the very first times, but I can't say for sure if that was it. It was the first time I went to your apartment. We watched a movie and you fell asleep. Seth and I were talking about how you had a lot of issues, but it didn't change how either of us felt about you. I felt this weird calling of wanting to protect you. Especially after saving you from…"

"The true creeper?"

"Yeah, him. I figured you were probably fine without me, but if there was anything I could do for you, I was gonna do it."

"Suppose I'd asked you to back off, don't let me in, don't let yourself into my crazy life. Would you have done that?"

"If it meant saving you and saving myself, sure. But I think we tried that out at first. Didn't work."

Dean scoffed. "I thought about trying. Didn't work out so well. It's all your fault. You're just so irresistible. The way you care about people. The way you go out of your way for little old me. How I can just look at you and see how much you love me. How could I not fall for you over pancakes?"

Roman was close to tackling him over the table, pinning him to the carpet and spearing his tongue down Dean's throat.

"So now, the million dollar question. When did you first fall in love with me?"

"I could drag it out. I could give you a cop-out answer and say I fall in love with you every single day. Like that Ed Sheeran song."

"I'm flattered, and while that may be true, I kept it specific. The first time."

Roman chuckled. "You fell in love with me over a plate of pancakes. I fell in love with you on your couch while you sang 'More Than Words' to me personally."

Dean tapped the table with the heel of his hand. "Damn, that's such a good song. Keeps working its way into our relationship."

"Should we make it our song, then?"

"If you have to make it official, sure. I kinda figured it already was." He winked, then took down a swig of wine.

"Good stuff, huh?" Roman queried.

"Boy, I'll say. Let's get a bottle of this shit to go."

"Stop cussing so loud. This is a nice restaurant, dick."

"Oh, my apologies to all the rich bitches and bastards who can't accept the fact we live in a shitty world where this sort of goddamn language fucking exists."

Roman muffled his laughter. "Don't get us kicked out, asshole."

"With how much they're charging us for pasta, we better have the right to free speech around here."

"With how much they're charging us for pasta, maybe we should test those rights. Just strip and make out. Right there on the floor."

Dean grinned mischievously. "Don't tempt me. Just might take you up on it. Maybe not right there, but a little later on, somewhere else. Not too far away."

"That so? Then I will continue—"

The server delivered their food. Roman squeezed his lips closed, not wanting a whisper of their sensual affairs to be made anyone else's business. He was dismissed after Roman and Dean stated they didn't need anything else—except, perhaps, for him to walk away so they could continue talking.

"You were saying?" Dean mused.

"I'll continue tempting you until you give in and you can't help but come onto me."

Dean stabbed the great lump of lasagna on his plate. "Please. I'm a lot stronger than you give me credit for. I don't break easy."

"Oh yeah? One of the very first things I learned about you wasn't your hobbies or favorite TV show or where you're from, but one of your many weaknesses. I have a lot on you. More than you realize."

"Ooh, so you know I like sweets and I'm incredibly ticklish. That'll get me into bed with you. So seductive."

"I have my ways."

"And I have mine. I've got a lot on you too, Ro."

"Like what?"

"Like how much softer your voice gets after I call you Ro. Or Superman."

Roman could feel his heartbeat picking up. He dispensed a forkful of parmesan into his mouth, then dabbed his lips with a napkin. "I like my nicknames, sure. But that's not alluring enough to break me."

"Tip of the iceberg, baby. How about the way your breathing gets all slow and offset anytime I just do this?" Dean rested his jaw against his slim fingers and looked ahead into Roman's eyes. His baby blue eyes were one of his best features. "Just looking at you. Not even doing anything. Just sitting here, watching you swim and squirm."

Roman was loving this challenge. Thank God there was a tablecloth to conceal how much tighter his jeans had gotten.

"Ready to jump me?" Dean asked him.

"Nope. Instead I will laugh at your pitiful attempts to entice me."

"Sure, you put on a brave face, but I can read your mind like it's a kid's book. I know what you're fantasizing about. It's a pretty picture. Both of us stripped down naked. Our heated bodies pressed together, clinging to one another like it's our lives on the line. Both fighting to see who can be the most aggressive kisser. You'd kiss me all over my neck, knowing how much I love it there. I'd run my tongue over your nipples, knowing how much you love it there."

Roman shifted in his seat. His boner was painfully constricted. Talk about offset breathing.

"And I wouldn't stop." Dean's tongue slipped through his teeth. He must have known how sexy Roman found the motion. "I'd just keep going. All over. Up and down, and lower…and lower…"

Roman was about to break. He shoveled food into his mouth, trying to recuperate. Dean snickered, knowing his advantage. He went in for the kill.

"And after I've made your body writhe in sheer pleasure, after I've lapped up all your sex juices, as we're both laying on the floor, sweating, gasping for breath, hardly able to move after that kind of session…I'd turn over, I'd grab my guitar, and I'd just look into your eyes and sing to you."

Roman closed his eyes, a sigh of defeat pushing from his lungs. Dean won. The bastard won this one for sure.

"How are we doing over here?" the server questioned, skipping back over with impeccable timing.

"Great. Could we get the check, please?" Roman asked.

"Absolutely."

"And another bottle of this awesome stuff," Dean requested.

"Sure thing."

When he left, Dean beamed, triumphant. He finished off his lasagna.

"You'll pay for that, Ambrose."

"Bring it, baby."

Roman paid the bill. The wine bottle was wrapped in a paper bag and handed off as the server collected his money. Roman left a decent tip and moved out of the restaurant, all but running. Dean practically skipped beside him.

"You play a dirty game," Roman accused.

"Dirty, yes. Game, not so much."

"You're lucky I can at least hold off until we get to the car."

"You mean no sex in the middle of the busy restaurant with all the families and the kids and the dating couples? Shit, why did we even come here?"

They climbed into the car. Roman turned the engine over. Halfway home is when he figured enough was enough. Waiting was torture. He pulled into the parking lot of a shopping mall that was closed for the night. There was nobody around.

Roman pushed his seat far back, then lowered it to where he was reclining at a forty-five degree angle. "Get your ass over here."

"Don't have to ask me twice." Dean crawled on top of him.

Their heat fogged the windows up. Their fashionable clothes converted to a disarranged pile on the backseat. Dean tasted so good, he felt so good. Roman had him, had everything with him, yet somehow wanted more, so much more. Roman gripped him tight with both hands, not intending to ever let him go.

"I love you so much, Dean Ambrose," Roman groaned as Dean pressed against him over and over, building electric pleasure with every touch. "Can't say it enough. Don't wanna wear it out."

"You can't. You won't," Dean breathed, just as winded as Roman. "I'll never stop loving you. And I'll never not mean it when I say—"

Roman hooked him into a kiss. More than words. Show, not tell. All that needed to be said was a message delivered by the angels, words whispered through the universe, felt like electricity in the hearts of the boys who were just as happy with each other as they were determined to fill the other with that much everlasting joy.

If you guys haven't listened to the acoustic version of Randy Orton's theme "Voices" by Sahaj Ticotin, you should give it a listen. I found it on Youtube, and it's pretty wonderful! I imagine that's sort of how Dean would sound singing it. Anyway, see you next chapter, when the angst starts to creep back into their lives. :/ Aha. :P