Time for the boys to have a long overdue conversation then, I loved writing this chapter because it has all the feels and because naturally I love writing anything between the two of them. Hope you guys like it though…fingers crossed I guess!

Hayley1001, Roman only has the best of intentions, but sometimes that old protective streak of his ends up doing more harm than good. Rest assured though the topic of 'the fight' will be one of their concerns going forward, but then, they're going to have a whole bunch of concerns!

Skovko, Mr. Socko and the Forest Cow sounds like the best band that has never existed! Which is probably why I'm now demanding that you make it happen! Hmmm, I'm pretty sure that Dean probably knows more dirty fighting tricks than Roman! Maybe the teaching should have to be the other way around?!

Daisysakura, Bray is completely insane, agreed. Plus I think he feels like he has met plenty of 'Roman' types before and has a measure of them. He's not interested in big and brawny, he likes kooky and offbeat like Dean! But yeah, conversation and then some training, the boys have a lot to be getting on with!

Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, back to the boys in this one, because they need to get past their problems and get back on the same page. There's a crooked prison and a swamp monster to deal with. But they need to face some hard truths first!

Cheryl24, Haha, now I have the Rocky theme stuck in my head, thanks for that! You might want to kick that soundtrack in at the beginning of the next chapter though, because then it will be perfect! Luckily, Dean isn't too much of a slouch when it comes to fighting. He did grow up on the mean streets after all!

SkittlezLvr79, Bray is such an opportunist. He's like a hyena or something or a vulture just waiting to pick off the scraps. Is it wrong that I love that about him though? He knows Dean will come in swinging and he knows he can out muscle him so he figures he's already won. But first the boys need to clear the air a bit (okay a lot!)

Minnie1015, Roman is totally trying to do the right thing, but he's from a nice neighborhood and a nice family, so he's never met anyone quite like Bray, so I think he keeps forgetting how sneaky the swamp man is. Plus, he does kind of have a few other problems to be dealing with, so I guess we can forgive him making things worse?! Maybe?!

Stingerette1975, Roman's number one priority at this point and going forward is going to be Dean's safety more than anything else. But yeah, accidentally making a fight for him is kind of a misstep. He does feel bad about it though! Lots of Roman and Dean moments in this one. I like to think it's the chapter they need!

Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I think, if nothing else then we have established that police man Roman is too damn pure for prison, because he thinks that the others are going to play be the rules. Hmmm, not so much with Bray. But yeah, big brother Roman is only trying. Not his fault his makes it worse (okay, so it's kind of his fault!)

Mandy, Oh no, sorry to hear about your loss and sorry that you had a crappy week. I totally understand needing log off and be away from everything for a bit. Everyone needs to recharge their batteries. Hope you're feeling better now. I'm sending hugs either way. Hope this chapter gives you good vibes. Oh what the heck, have some more hugs…

Okay then, talk time…


The Memory Train

The first thing he registers on becoming newly conscious is the fucking mariachi style thumping in his head, that thuds out a beat on every bone in his cranium from his tender feeling temple and then right the way through his jaw.

How is it possible for his jaw to have a headache? Is that – is that even an actual thing?

The second sensation he feels is confusion or possibly a dull sort of nausea or maybe both, since they seem to hit within moments of each other and then trouble him equally through the ever present thump. He feels a little like he is battling a hangover but cannot remember having had any booze although he distantly recalls smuggling in a bag of pruno and then wishing that he hadn't but that had been weeks ago, hadn't it?

Lifting a hand which feels weighted and leaden, he swipes it clumsily and too hard down his face, knocking his fingers against a lump on his forehead that stings like the devil and makes him hiss,

"Son 'f a bitch."

Instantly in response to it there is the creaking of bedsprings and then a big looming presence right beside his aching head and he opens his blue eyes in wary apprehension expecting to see something but instead finding black.

Fuck.

Is he blind?

Big fingers find his forehead and then gently begin to smooth back his hair and although the sudden touch makes his body jolt briefly it isn't too long before his heart rate settles down, because the pressure is rhythmic and pretty damn soothing and so is the voice that accompanies it,

"Uce? You back? How are you feeling?"

Dean frowns a little and then blinks into the room, relief flooding through him as colors make themselves known again in delicate shades of grey and inky blue and which are followed by outlines in the cold space around them that are helped by a chink of light from underneath the door.

He wets his lips hesitantly,

"R'man?"

"Yeah, it's me babe."

His cellmate's low tones are an instantaneous comfort and quell some of the swirling shitstorm banging in his head, which is positively screaming at him on a whole range of topics that stretch from establishing what the hell is happening through to why he can't seem to put his memories in a row.

"Feel like cr'p, head h'rts – ,"

"It will do."

"Why?"

"You remember anything?"

Dean thinks about it,

"No."

Except that part isn't entirely truthful because in spite of the fact that his skull is bellowing at him like he has missed some appointment or else left the stove on, it is also throwing back images and flashbacks that have all clumped together in some mashed up montage. He can see himself hunched hurling over their toilet which must be where the pruno memory was from and he can see his big roommate sporting a vicious black eye and the feelings that had come with his brother being injured by their shared mortal enemy and –

He blows out a groan.

"Bray."

Like the memory train pulling into the station and unleashing its waiting passengers, he can remember the whole thing, from the bearded cult leader being fucking transferred back again, to his beating up Roman and then the kitchen attack on him and hearing the note of sudden understanding, his still lightly tousling cellmate presses him gently,

"What happened babe?"

Dean grumbles the answer out slowly and thickly since neither his lips nor his tongue seem to work, at least not in a way that makes him sound sober but is enough at least to put what he remembers across.

"Bray came bustin' into the kitchens, made everyone else scram then started shoutin' an' shit."

Roman's hand ghosts over the head welt,

"What about this?"

"Threw me into a wall – I mean – I think, I can't really remember, kinda goes all fuzzy."

His vision is slowly returning to normal and it confirms that he has woken up in the middle of the night and also explains why his bigger broader cellmate is speaking in a tone that is both low and lightly hushed, even though it still carries notes of bitter anger that prove oddly reassuring but at the same time feel weirdly off. Because bubbling away beneath the husk of what has happened is another slow burn memory that is begging to get out and seems to strike them in precisely the same instant since in the exact same second that Dean is beginning to unravel it the older man addresses the issue for himself, starting by hauling another long breath in and then rubbing his face,

"About last night uce, look – ,"

"Fucker."

Dean breathes the stunned sounding word out heavily but there are notes of startled revelation in it too because his brain has snapped back on and the engines are whirring with gut wrenching clarity.

Holy shit.

"You're a cop."

Roman blinks slowly in what reaches them of the moonlight, but his face remains impassive as he replies with a nod and a look like he is bracing himself heavily for the brawling or the censure assumes is about to fall out.

"Yeah, I am."

Dean could technically be a total shit about it and go off on the bigger man and never let up and the truth is that a part of him desperately wants to do that but at the same time there is something kind of gnawing at him as well, which bubbles up in him and then suddenly needs explaining since it seems more important.

"Hold up, how – how did I get back here?"

Huh?

He cannot remember making the short walk and nor can he fathom why it hadn't drawn attention since there is no fucking way that he didn't look drunk or else didn't fall down or trip up and stumble, which is precisely the sort of thing that guards and inmates look for because weakness is like a flashing fucking beacon.

Roman blows a breath out,

"I found you."

"Where?"

"In the kitchens, with that god damn asshole all over you – ,"

Dean blinks,

"Bray was – he was still there?"

Instead of answering him directly however, the bigger man tenses and then twitches a lip in a clearly held back movement of fury which he hides even further by turning away and gazing towards the frosted glass window like he is somehow admiring a pleasant country view and it strikes the copper blonde with a sudden sort of gratitude that sounds awkward in the stillness but needs to be said,

"I owe you man, thanks."

"That isn't why I did it."

He chooses not to throw in the rest of the sentence but it hangs between them unspoken anyway because they both of them know that their friendship means something and that the bigger man had saved him out of brotherly love.

Dean softens slightly,

"So they sent you undercover huh? I mean, that's gotta really – like – fuckin' suck."

Roman looks back with a hesitant sort of tension although he manages to offer out a wry little smile, that teeters around the neatly trimmed facial hair and pulls his lips up,

"Yeah well, it ain't all bad, see I ended up with this crazy ass roommate,"

"Sounds like hell."

"Man, you have no idea."

"Bet he's a naturally beautiful kinda fucker though and a killer with the ladies."

Both of them snort and the teasing then gives way to a comfortable sort of silence in spite of its being loaded with a million unsaid thoughts and more loose ends than an unfinished poncho or maybe the bizarre ass finish to Lost.

Roman sighs suddenly,

"I'm sorry I lied uce."

He sounds utterly genuine and it echoes around the room and although the copper blonde feels himself start to rankle, the feeling slips away almost the second that it's born and instead of blowing up in the way both of them are braced for he merely shrugs his shoulders,

"Pretty good reason man, I mean, out of everyone that's ever kept important shit from me, I get it, y' know?"

"You do huh?"

"I guess so, 'sides this isn't exactly the right venue to go tellin' the fuckin' world that you're actually a cop."

"Not the world no, but I should have told you babe."

Dean grins suddenly,

"Yeah uce, dick move."

Roman beams back and the expression is such a broad one that the tension breaks up like ice sheets and swiftly melts away and a sensation flows through their icy little cell room that feels a lot like familial warmth. Dean thinks so anyway, but then again he's no expert, or at least not up until the bigger man palms his head again and tousles his tangled curls back up and off his brow line before scrunching them gently in big protective tucks.

Dean blows a sigh out,

"So what's the plan big dog?"

"The plan?"

"For your mission, or whatever it is you got – figured your next move out?"

Roman pauses for a moment and then issues a grunt and takes back his hand, which he moves instead to tangle with the other one in an absent but strangely unsettled sort of motion that isn't Roman-like and makes the copper blonde stop,

"Maybe. I have an idea at least."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I might need your help."

"Mine?"

Dean coughs out a bark of astonishment which rattles around the whitewash a little too loud and then bounces back to assault his thumping headache and he grunts a little and snaps shut his eyes.

No more laughing for a while.

Maybe ever.

Beside him his cellmate lifts from the mattress with a bitterly loud squeaking of well worn springs and Dean hears the sound of the faucet and running water before it shuts off again and the bigger man pads back. His blue gaze snaps open at the very same moment that an icy cold washcloth is laid over his brow and although the temperature sends a lance of surprise through him it also feels amazing and he blows his thanks out,

"Fuck."

Roman grins,

"That feel better?"

"Fuckin' orgasmic."

"In that case, forget I asked."

Dean moves the cloth to a point above his eyebrow and then looks across to search for the big features in the dark, which are pretty unsurprisingly staring back at him and as usual are totally non-judgemental and calm.

"So what do you need me for in this big fuckin' plan of yours?"

"Can you pick a lock?"

"Does the pope wear a hat?"

"I need to get into a cabinet."

"Where man?"

Roman's brown eyes flicker up briefly and he steels himself a little before offering the response, which is then so completely and utterly unexpected that the copper blonde briefly assumes he's misheard,

"Bischoff's office."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? How in the hell am I meant to do that?"

"Foley needs to swap his cleaning work assignments, you could replace him."

Dean barks again but the noise is caught midway between amusement and outright wonder because he feels like he has been launched into mission impossible but he likes it too since it feels pretty punchy and thrilling in a way that prison life rarely does.

He stops himself suddenly and sobers,

"Did he do it? Is Bischoff part of whatever happened to Callihan?"

Roman blinks back for a second,

"I'm not sure babe, that's why I need to open that drawer."

"In that case, I'm there."

Dean stares back from beneath the washcloth, but there is purpose and conviction burning hard in his gaze and in response to it the undercover cop nods at him slowly and then offers his battered roommate a tentative smile,

"Thanks uce."

"So, is there anythin' else you think I should know about?"

He asks the question with a broad sort of grin because he is mostly only kidding on that one since that has to be pretty much the whole fucking deal, but clearly isn't since in the silence that follows, Roman lifts a hand to scratch his awkwardly at his head, then pulls his big brow into a wince of apology before blowing a breath loose,

"Uh, there might be a thing with Bray – ,"


Back on the same page then! Could never have them at loggerheads for too long. I missed my best friends/brother vibes because god knows we're not getting them on TV at the moment.

Normal service resumed next time and the boys make plans.