*huge happy sigh* Once again overwhelmed by all the lovely feedback I got from you! And *moa* I just love you!
So, I hope you'll enjoy this freshly baked and served chapter as well ;3
His eyes jumped from face to face, none of them being the one he wanted to see. That one face he needed to see.
Him.
Dean.
And he shouldn't even be in the goddamn situation to need to find him because Dean should be here now, with him, not somewhere else. But he wasn't here. Hadn't been yesterday already.
Idiot, Roman cursed himself silently over and over again.
It was his own fault that Dean wasn't here now, wasn't it? If he'd just kept his big mouth shut instead of bringing topics up of which he knew Dean wasn't ready to talk about, then Dean would have been here now or at least Roman would know if the fact that Dean wasn't here with him had other reasons.
Reasons which would be worse though…
Dean's reaction to his question still made him sick to the guts. The other man hadn't even answered his question but it had been answer enough, hadn't it, to see him tense up like that and… to see him run away. The expression on his face. Roman didn't even have a name for what he'd seen there. Sadness, rage, shock maybe and realization. And so many more... it all combining to something too sober, something that shouldn't be written on anyone's face. Especially not on Dean's.
And there had been helplessness, too. It had been the one thing that had shocked Roman most. Utter helplessness. And seeing Dean run away like that had been… it had frozen Roman to the spot, because the other man wasn't the type of guy who ran away.
Come on, Dean, come here and tell me that I'm an ass and let me apologize, Roman thought as he once more let his eyes sweep over the sea of heads on the school yard.
He wished it. Really. Wished that Dean would come here and let him apologize for being an idiot and even if Dean would avoid him and he had to start anew with showing him that he could trust him, it would have been better than not knowing where the other man was, because Dean not being at school left a bad taste behind.
If he only knew where Dean lived. Every time he'd given him a ride, it had always been the same point he'd dropped him off, yet obviously not the place where he lived. He'd watched him walk into a back road. Could mean that the place he lived at was there in that back road, could mean as well that it was God knew where. Just around the corner? A five minutes walk away? Even further away? Dean seemed to be determined to keep that information away from Roman.
That and so many more things.
And Roman's attempt to find out about Dean's address by asking at the school's office had been vain endeavor, too.
He hated it, hated not to be able to do something. Anything at all. Like to say I'm sorry, give me a second chance...
… or like getting him out of that hell… somehow…
Shit. Fucking shit!
His train of thoughts was stopped by someone holding on to him, stopping him literally. For a confused second he blinked at that person until he remembered that Seth was here, too. Fawn brown eyes gazed at him with worry.
"Roman... stop pacing like a caged tiger," Seth said quietly. The hand that had held on to Roman's arm moved up to the back of his neck, tis fingers curling around it soothingly. "He's not here."
Roman closed his eyes briefly and exhaled a bitter breath.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck! What if something happened to him? The last time he hasn't been at school, he came back all bruised."
"I know," Seth said even quieter. "I know… but you can't do anything. I know you blame yourself for asking if it's his dad and if you ask me, that's not something you have to blame yourself for, because you're only worried about him. But if he really isn't at school because his dad has laid his hands on him again, then he'll need you with a clear head when he comes back."
Dipping his head a bit forward, Roman gritted his teeth. The mere idea of it made him sick to the guts. With a sigh Seth brought both his hands up to cradle Roman's head, stepping up to him to rest their foreheads together.
"He's tough, Rome. He'll get through it and next week he's back at school, you can apologize and then it'll be okay," Seth calmed him. "Yeah, maybe he'll keep a bit more distance again but you haven't lost him. He likes you too much already."
Reaching up, Roman held onto Seth's forearms, allowing the comforting closeness to wash over him.
"Huh, then you know more than I do," he said just above a whisper.
"You know it, too. Come on, do you really think he would have let you this close at all if he wouldn't like you?" Seth asked softly.
Roman puffed a sad little laughter, because the way Seth said this almost made him believe it.
... little brother...
"I'm glad that you're here, you know?" he sighed, drawing back a little to look into those warm eyes again.
"Yeah, don't know what you've done all the time before without me," Seth chuckled lightly, softly patting Roman's chest. "You have it real bad for him, don't you?"
"I'm just worried, Seth, and I have reason enough to be worried."
"I know. That and you have it real bad for him."
With a heavy sigh on his lips, Roman wiped a hand over his forehead and let his eyes once more roam the school yard that had emptied out except for a handful of students. And still, no Dean.
"Yeah, and I'm realistic enough to know that the chances that he'll requite it are close to null," he muttered, looking back at Seth with a crooked smile. "I'd be happy enough if he would trust me and let me be his friend."
A light frown appeared on Seth's face, a pondering one, while he chewed on the inside of the corner of his mouth.
Tilting his head a little to the side, he asked: "How does it feel to kiss a man?"
"Stubbly," Roman snorted, wondering where that question just had come from.
The frown on Seth's face deepened a bit.
"Stubbly?"
"Beard growth, li'l bro. You should know what that is since you're the president of the society of thick beards," Roman explained, giving the nicely trimmed but impressively full beard that framed the pretty face a playful tug.
"Oh, haha, funny. But really, doesn't it feel weird to...?"
Seth never got to end the sentence, because Roman put a hand on the back of his head and leaned in, sealing his lips over Seth's. The sound of utter surprise that escaped the smaller man's mouth was swallowed down and replaced by Roman's tongue that teasingly slid along Seth's. The kiss lasted only a brief moment, not even long enough to give Seth the time to actually really react to it and when it ended, Roman crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his friend with an in question raised eyebrow while biting back a huge grin at the bewildered expression he found on the other man's face.
"Stubbly..." Seth stated slowly, the brown eyes wide in confused surprise. He blinked once. And reached up to touch his lips. Then: "You've kissed me."
"No shit, Sherlock. Don't worry, you won't wake up gay tomorrow," Roman grinned, licking his lips. Sweet. Seth's lips tasted sweet. "Are you using lip balsam?"
"What...? I, uh... cherry, yeah," Seth stuttered, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.
Ruffling the already messy locks, Roman laughed: "Good God, you're cute, Rollins."
His hand was slapped away, followed by a punch against his shoulder.
"Asshole!" Seth exclaimed but there was a grin forming on his lips, too. "Is that your hobby? Kissing other men just like that?"
Throwing an arm around Seth's neck, Roman pulled him tightly against his side.
"Only pretty, fawn eyed boys like you," he replied as he began to walk towards his car.
He heard Seth mutter something under his breath, felt him struggle half-heartedly against the hold on him for a moment, before the resistance subsided. This small interlude had managed to drag his attention away from searching for Dean and worrying non-stop for a while, but this very second his thoughts neatly latched on to Dean again. He couldn't even text him, because the man didn't have a phone or e-mail.
"You're lucky that your parents are cool with you being gay, dude. "
"Yeah. Dad always says that there's still a chance then that there'll be a young man in his house some day who might be interested in cars, since his own son is not," Roman said absentmindedly.
"Thought you'll continue your old man's business?"
"Being the boss of a car repair shop doesn't necessarily mean that one has to be interested in restoring cars. You only need the right employees. And it's just not my thing to restore cars." And that brought his thoughts to another point he had almost forgotten. There was a mission his old man had given him to accomplish. "Fuck, the fuel pump..." he groaned.
"Fuel pump?"
"Yeah, gotta get a fuel pump from the junkyard for the '76er Chevy Camaro my dad is restoring."
"Why from the junkyard? Why doesn't he buy a new one?"
"He could but he wants only original parts from other Camaro's. Don't ask me why. Uh, shall I give you a ride?"
Shaking his head no, Seth patted the arm that was resting around his shoulder.
"Nah, having Ninjutsu in about half an hour, so I think I'll do a nice walk to the dojo, bro."
When they reached the car, Seth gazed at him for long seconds before saying quietly: "Do me the favor and give yourself a break. You're driving yourself crazy over worrying about him and you're not helping him with it. And I don't like seeing you so sad. Okay?"
There was warmth blooming in Roman's chest as he looked into those fawn brown orbs that glowed with affection and, yes, worry that he didn't like to see there. But it felt damn good to know that Seth cared so much about him and maybe it was good that his heart was already beating for Dean, because if not... then he might have fallen for Seth. But you're not hitting on your little brother, right? Not even if it's your brother from another mother.
"Okay, big bro?"
More insistently this time.
"Yeah, okay. Trying my best, sir," he said, smoothing a hand over the two-toned hair.
He would try to. But he also knew that he would be failing miserably...
And he was proved correct because from the moment they had parted to the very moment now as he was walking into the small office of the junkyard, his mind had been spinning, his thoughts revolving around Dean. Non. Stop. It was almost ridiculous. Breathing deeply, he shook his head softly about his own incapability to keep cool about the whole thing. He knew that Seth was right by saying that he wasn't helping Dean a bit with it and usually he wasn't the type who wasn't able to get a grip on a bad situation... or himself. This was a first for him and he had no fucking idea what to do.
"Mister Reigns junior," the man behind the desk greeted him, a wide smile on the friendly and round face. Barney was his name, as far as Roman remembered. The owner of this junkyard. "It's been a while."
"Yes, sir," Roman smiled back, shaking the hand which was held out to him. "Dad sends me to get the Chevy fuel pump."
Shaking his head, the man laughed.
"A neverending story, that Camaro and your dad. When did he start to restore that car? Ten years ago?"
Pursing his lip, Roman raised an eyebrow and snorted: "Twelve actually. I honestly think that he doesn't really want to get it finished. That car is his baby and he loves to just sit in it and dream about how it'll be to drive it."
"Aah, I see. The journey is the way," Barney drawled, still smiling and Roman nodded. "Okay then, let me get the little gem. I'll be right back."
With that Barney vanished through the back door. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Roman walked over to a window, gazing out. His mind drifted back in time, back to when he'd been been much younger and had spent time here on regular basis with his dad. His eyes roamed the corpses of all those cars out there... and over things he couldn't even identify. People were running around out there, busy with whatever, carrying things and he watched them, his gaze stopping at a man who was trying to haul an obvious heavy and unwieldy metal-whatever up and into a container, without much success though. It seemed that the thing the man was fighting with was about to win. Crossing his arms over his chest, Roman kept watching the struggle while his mind was caught between dwelling in memories and going back to spinning because of Dean.
It took him a moment until the information his eyes gave him actually sank into his busy brain. But then... he understood. He knew that black and white lumberjack shirt. And he also knew the messy blond hair. But...
What the fuck...?
He heard his name being called the moment he practically ran out of the small building but he ignored it, because he needed to get to him as fast as possible. His heart began to pound hard, harder, ridiculously fast, too, while there was only one thought left in his head.
This was Dean.
Dean, who just took a step backwards or rather stumbled back, the thing he was trying to lift now dropping to the ground with a audible thud. Roman watched as Dean took a few unsteady steps forward again and sat down in front of the container with his back against it and his head dipped forward, an arm holding is middle, a hand resting in his lap...
There was a slight flinch as Roman kneeled down beside him and gingerly laid a hand on a slumped shoulder, but he got no reaction otherwise. Dean's breathing was heavy and unsteady, strained.
"Dean?" he said softly, moving his hand up to the back of the other man's neck, letting it rest there. "Dean, look at me."
For another long second or two Dean remained unmoving. But then, slowly, he lifted his head and met Roman's gaze, the blue eyes somewhat dull but widening a bit as he recognized who was kneeling there.
"Roman?"
Too breathless for Roman's taste. But worse was... what he saw on Dean's face. A dark shiner was forming around his left eye and a big bruise on his left cheekbone, his jaw. There was a cut in his eyebrow and his lower lip.
"Shit..." he whispered, carefully laying a hand on the bruised cheek.
Rage sparked in him, demanding to go and make sure the bastard would never, never again lay his hands on Dean, but instead he gritted his teeth and fought it down. Dean needed him. Here. From the corner of his eye he noticed Barney kneeling down beside him, reaching out to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder and the way Dean tensed up didn't go unnoticed by Roman and he quickly stopped the other man from touching Dean.
"I told him to go home," Barney said, a certain guilty note lying in his voice. "He refused to go..."
It almost seemed as if Barney's words pushed a button in Dean who suddenly moved to get up, but Roman stopped his attempt immediately.
"I'm okay," Dean gritted out. "Lemme, got work to..."
"No, dude, you're not doing anything anymore today," Roman cut him off while inching closer. Putting one of Dean's arms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around his upper body and straightened up, pulling Dean with him and every single stifled groan tore sharply at his heart.
Eventually they were standing. It was written all over the battered face that Dean didn't want this, hated it and with a muttered no he started a feeble attempt to move away from Roman. Bringing a hand up to the arm around his neck, Roman closed his fingers around the wrist to keep the arm there while holding him a bit tighter against his side with his other arm.
"Don't even think about it, you hear me? You can barely stand on your own, man," he said more insistently as he began to steer him towards his car carefully despite the weak struggling Dean put up.
The resistance faded from the other man the closer they came to the car, probably because there was simply no strength left in him, and the moment they reached it Dean had given up and followed Roman's lead.
Opening the door to the backseats area, he maneuvered Dean in there somehow, this time without any kind of opposition... but also without any other reaction. No words, not even a gaze. Nothing.
Hunching down beside him, he brushed a hand over the blond hair while murmuring: "You stay put, okay? I'll be back in a minute."
Still... nothing. With a sigh he got up and closed the door carefully, before he made his way back to Barney who, obviously unsure what to do, was standing in front of the office, gazing over to them. And Roman was not only unsure what to do, he was at a loss here. Dean was sitting in his car, battered and bruised, beaten up by this bastard who called himself his father and... fuck he looked as if he'd almost been beaten to death and... and...
Closing his eyes, he stopped in his tracks as the facts hit him once more, as it really sunk in and the impact of it flooded him with a heavy sickness.
He needed to take Dean to a doctor... couldn't let him go back home... he...
A hand settled on his shoulder and his name was being said hushed. Barney. The man was standing there beside him, looking at him in question as Roman met his gaze. Worry was there, too. Guilt. And when had the man come here?
"Why is Dean here?" he asked the older man because he really didn't understand it.
Dean hadn't been at school but now he was here, working, when it was the goddamn last thing he should do in his condition?
"He's working here three days a week to earn some money for a car. At least that's what his father has told me when he came here to get the temp job for him," Barney said, but the way he said it, hesitatingly, told Roman that he didn't really believe it himself. "His father comes every Saturday afternoon to get the money for him."
"Huh, yeah..." he ground out. "Why haven't you called the fucking police or the youth welfare? Don't tell me you haven't seen the bruises and don't you fucking tell me it's the first time he comes here like this!"
"Calm down, junior, I understand that you're worried about your friend, but what do you think that I should tell the cops, huh? That I think that his father is abusing him? They'll probably say that he's just some punk kid who likes to get involved in brawls and if they really go and talk to his father, then it'll get only worse for him," the older man explained, his voice hushed but gentle.
"How much is the difference if he doesn't go back to work now?" Roman asked, forcing himself to calm down. He knew that the man had a point there. "I'm gonna give you the money and you'll give it to his father, okay? I don't want him to get in trouble for..."
"Don't be silly, junior. I'll pay him the full hours," Barney sighed. "Take the fuel pump for your dad and go back to your friend and make sure he'll get back on his feet."
With that Barney handed him the fuel pump he had held tucked under his arm and squeezed his shoulder. An apologetic expression spread all over the round face and to be honest, Roman couldn't blame the man for doing how he'd done. With a nod Roman turned away from him, walking back to his car... still at a loss what to do. Placing the fuel pump in the trunk, he grabbed a bottle of water from his sportsbag and a spare shirt and took a deep breath, before joining Dean on the backseat.
Dean was sitting leaned against the car door, his head resting against the shaded window. One arm was wrapped around his middle again. He didn't look over to Roman, stared out of the window instead. His shirts were dirty and damp, sticking to his body. With a sigh Roman placed the bottle in the footwell and the spare shirt on the top of the backrest.
"Dean?" No reaction. "We need to get you out of those shirts."
The dulled blue eyes kept staring out of the window as Dean sat up a little straighter and leaned forward a bit, his movements slow, it all wearing the bitter note of resignation. With a silent sigh Roman began to peel him out of the damp lumberjack shirt, catching himself looking anywhere but at the skin that was revealed, maybe because he was scared of what he would see there. But he knew already anyway what his eyes would show him and caused sickness to coil up in his guts again.
And then the shirt was off and hesitatingly Roman let his eyes roam over Dean's arms and shoulders. For endlessly long seconds he couldn't breathe. Abrasions... bruises, black and blue... too many of them. One of them on Dean's upper arm, like fingerprints. One leading from his right shoulder down across his back, vanishing under the black tank he was wearing.
It hurt. So fucking much and he wanted to gather him in his arms and make both their pain go away and shield Dean from harm...
Eventually he managed to draw in some air again, nadly needed deep breaths against the sickness and the rage that flared blindingly bright in him now. Dean still didn't meet his gaze, almost as if he was afraid to look at him for some reason.
But there was the shadow of a smile dancing on ruined lips, bitter and twisted, as Dean said just above a whisper: "Sure you want to see it?"
No, I don't want to see it. I fucking don't want to see this shit that shouldn't even be there on your body. He didn't say it though.
Instead he swallowed the fear and those words down and reached out, his fingers closing on the hem of the tank, gently tugging it up. He heard a low groan as Dean lifted his arms so Roman could pull it off and although he had known that it would be bad, the sight that was revealed hit him full force. There was barely a patch of unscathed skin left. New bruises were forming over the shadows of older ones, abrasions, scars... The bruise that started on the shoulder lead down in a dark streak, ending in the kidney area. And there was a big, black bruise on his ribcage, too.
Closing his eyes tightly for a moment, he whispered: "Oh God, Dean..."
"Yeah... things like that happen outside your ideal world where everything is so idyllic, Reigns," he heard Dean say, heard that it was supposed to sound biting and probably even tough, but it was far from being that.
It was exhausted and resigned. And Roman felt helpless, like never before in his life because he couldn't wash the colors off of Dean's body to make the bruises vanish and he couldn't smooth a hand over the abrasions and cuts and scars to wipe them away. He couldn't make the pain go away, no matter how much he wanted it.
"Dean..."
"What?"
Snapped, this time with a bit more intensity lying in it but even now, it wasn't... serious. More like some kind of an automatic reaction you actually don't want but it happens nevertheless.
"Look at me," Roman demanded softly, determined to somehow cross that last bit of distance Dean still tried to keep up between them. His reward was a single, mirthless laughter, but then Dean finally met his gaze. "Don't do this. Don't push me away. I'm your friend and I want to help you." A shadow cast over the other man's eyes, his brows furrowing and his lips tightening. Dean was fighting with himself. Again. Still. And Roman silently begged him to finally allow himself to trust. "Let me help you, Dean. Please," he added even softer.
Something shifted in those blue orbs before Dean looked away again, his gaze finding his own hands which were resting in his lap, clenching to fists while his breathing quickened a little.
Then, so quietly that Roman almost missed it: "Ro?"
The tiny word pierced right through his chest, taking residence in his heart and took possession of it and the sweet ache it brought along dimmed the bitter one for a moment. Never before had Dean called him that, not even Rome, like Seth used to do.
"Yeah?" Roman spoke hushed, his heart stumbling a bit as he understood that Dean calling him that... that it was that last step... like an outstretched hand...
"I'm so damn tired..." Dean whispered and the facade he had been holding up all the time... Roman could see it fall to pieces this very moment.
And for the first time he really laid eyes on the Dean who had been hidden behind all the walls. The lonely, burned boy who wanted nothing more than the pain to go away. A shocking vulnerability was showing on the face and he could see that Dean was not only tired but also tired. Tired off all of it and too close to the breaking point.
But Dean wouldn't break... because he was there to keep him together. Even if it was the last thing he would do in his life.
Scooting back to the other end of the seat, Roman shifted to sit with his back against the door.
"Come here," Roman said quietly, patting the space right in front of him and Dean's eyes found to the spot where the big hand was still resting and back up to Roman's. Holding his other hand out in invitation, Roman murmured: "Trust me."
There was still hesitation lying in the handsome features, probably because being so close to someone, even if it was Roman, was making him feel uncomfortable and for a moment Roman was almost sure that he wouldn't do it... but then Dean moved, slowly inching over to him to sit between the thick thighs with his legs stretched out on the bench and with a low groan he leaned back against the broad chest, sagging against Roman. Gingerly Roman brought his arms around the leaner frame, holding the exhausted body tightly yet gently against his chest. He heard a heavy breath being exhaled, felt Dean rest his head against his shoulder and a temple against his cheek. Hands on his arms, holding on to them weakly.
"I'm sorry..." Dean mumbled.
"I know, Dean," Roman replied hushed, his eyes fixing on the opposite window, gazing out of it yet not, because it was mirroring a faint reflection of them and his gaze wandered over it.
"Sorry..."
"Don't worry, 's okay," he murmured soothingly. "Try to rest a little, okay?"
I'm here, you're safe. No one is gonna lay a goddamn, fucking hand on you.
Quietness followed. Swallowing hard, Roman tightened his hold on him ever so slightly and fought the pain in his chest down, wishing that this was just a fucking nightmare they both would wake up from any second. Waves of slight trembling were running through Dean's frame and it didn't even take a minute until his breathing evened out, got shallow. And then the body in Roman's arms went slack.
This... it was trust, wasn't it? To sleep before someone's face, letting them hold you meant that you trusted them not to do something that could harm you, right?
Dean was trusting him.
But this victory... it was covered with an all too bitter note...
X
Two hours. For two hours now he was sitting here with Dean in his arms, watching over his sleep. Every now and then there was a breathed whimper and there were moments when his breathing was quickening a little, got strained. Moments when the body in his arm tensed up or flinched. And all Roman could do then was to hold him a bit tighter and murmur soothing words Dean would never know about. Still his sleep had more of an unconsciousness than anything else. Dean didn't stir as Roman shifted because his legs got numb from sitting too long without moving and as the door of the co-drivers side opened and Barney stuck his head in to ask if they needed anything, Dean gave no further reaction but a mumble.
It was a low groan and the soft movement of Dean's head that was tucked under his chin which told him that Dean was coming round eventually. His breathing got stronger again, hitched a bit as he twitched slightly and briefly it felt as if Dean wanted to jerk away from the contact… but then his name was breathed, followed by another low groan.
"Welcome back, Han Solo," he murmured, loosening his hold just in case Dean wanted to move away from him… but surprisingly enough he didn't make an attempt to get out of the embrace.
Roman couldn't help the warmth that was blooming in his chest at that fact because only two days ago they had made five steps backwards due to his own idiocy and now, with one big stride, they had gained more than only the lost ground.
"Feeling a little better?" he asked softly, fishing in the footwell for the bottle of water.
"Yeah... I think..." Dean answered, sounding still much too tired to Roman's ears, yet better than two hours ago.
After a brief moment his fingers closed around it and he brought it up, opened it and held it in front of Dean's nose.
"You need to drink some water," he said, taking one of Dean's hands to place it on the bottle as the other man made no move to take it. "Not gonna discuss about this, Dean. Drink."
It earned him a sigh but then Dean took some hearty gulps, before handing it back to Roman who placed it back in the footwell.
"How long have I been out?" he heard him ask, the already rough voice way more raspy than usually.
"About two hours," Roman replied, unsure where to put his hands.
Having his arms wrapped around Dean while he'd been asleep had been one thing, but now that Dean was awake again, Roman wasn't sure if putting his arms back around him now was still okay. He wanted to. Because despite the circumstances, holding Dean had felt good.
"Fuck," Dean groaned as he moved to sit up, bringing the nasty bruises on his back on full display and Roman couldn't help but lay a hand on the huge dark streak that led across the other man's back.
Dean stiffened immediately.
"Have to go back to work," he forced out, yet he didn't move away from the touch.
"No more working for you today. Don't worry, your dad won't know about it. Barney's gonna pay you the full hours." He let his hand travel along the streak and then over to the huge bruise on Dean's ribcage. "How badly does it hurt?"
And Dean stiffened even more. If it was due to the hand on his side or because of the question, Roman didn't know, but he wished that his touch could make it better... instead of making Dean feel uncomfortable.
Take your hand off, the rational part in him warned. I can't, that emotional part in him whispered.
"Can't take money for not doing my job."
"In this case you'll have to, because I'm gonna make sure that you won't strain yourself any more than you already have today. Give yourself a break," he urged softly.
"You gonna make sure?" Dean said then, his voice tense. "You don't have the fucking right to decide for me..."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Roman began, trailing off mid-sentence. And then he sighed. One step forward, two backwards. "Why don't you let me help you?"
"You... you can't help me, Ro." There it was again. Ro. A step forwards. "There's nothing you can do, you know? It's okay, I... huh, I survived the last six years and I'll get through the next six month, too."
"I know that you're tough, Dean. There's no need to prove it to me and there's nothing bad about not being tough every now and then. I am here and you can trust me. What are you so afraid of?"
"I'm not used to having someone I can trust." It was a mere whisper, yet it seemed loud in the bit of space between them. There was a very light, scratching sound. Nails on rough fabric. Dean was scraping his nails over his jeans nervously. "I'm scared that if I give in, that I won't get back on my feet if the day comes that you'll be sick of how twisted I am."
A vice-grip closed around Roman's chest. No one should say something like that about themselves.
"Don't say that. You're not twisted."
"Huh, sure..."
Splaying his fingers over the bruise on Dean's side, Roman said: "You are not. And I'm not gonna let you down." He willed Dean to believe it. He wanted him to finally accept that he wasn't alone with this shit anymore. "Talk to me, Dean."
But Dean only dipped his head a bit forward and Roman could see how his fingers dug in the worn fabric of his blue jeans.
"Can't..."
"Okay," Roman whispered. "It's okay... " Pushing Dean had almost destroyed everything and he wouldn't risk that again. He pulled his hand back and with it the tension left the body in front of him. "You have all the time you need. I just want you to know that I'm there for you."
The snort Dean graced him with surprised him. As did the tiny smile he found on his lips as he turned around to him.
"Sounds fucking corny, man," Dean chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but it wasn't much amusement lying in his voice.
He was trying to change the topic and get away from the uncomfortable grounds they were walking on. No wonder, was it? This today, it was almost more than Roman was able to stomach and he knew that it would hunt him for days, and he couldn't even imagine how Dean must be feeling now.
"Guess the heat makes my brain mushy," Roman smiled, watching as Dean reached for his shirts. Grabbing the spare shirt from the backrest, he threw it over to him. "Your shirts are damp and dirty. Put this one on."
With an appreciating grunt Dean threw the shirt on, or rather wanted to, but his movements were still slow and accompanied with stifled hisses and gasps. The narrow room of the backseat area didn't make it any better and so Roman moved before he knew what he was doing, reaching out to help him tug the fabric in place. The shirt slipped over the blond mop and suddenly...
Blue... light and crystalline. Insecure. Yet soft and so beautiful...
And his heart, it tripped and reached out for Dean.
"Thanks," Dean murmured and his breath fanned over Roman's face... making him realize how close they were.
Shit...
Scooting back, he gave Dean more room. It was like walking on a line. Give him room, but not too much or else he'll be out of your orbit. And then... wasn't it odd how someone like him, who at the first sight seemed to be so blunt, dulled in his nature, could be so... sensitive? Delicate even? If you only took the time to really, really look at him...
It made his trust... special. Precious.
Roman wanted it, this trust, the pure and unconditionally version of it and he knew it was still a long and stony path until he would get there. He would walk this way, no matter how often he would stumble.
And he wanted to spend more time with him, preferably in a place where Dean could be carefree. A safe place where the world was okay.
"Ro?"
Okay, so maybe he had been staring at Dean a bit too long here, but good God, how he loved to hear him call him that...
"Uhm, I just thought that... maybe you wanna come over to my place tomorrow?"
A faint frown appeared on the other man's face.
"Dunno..."
Mumbled. Unsure.
"Come on, Captain Solo. Some chilling, some X-Box and my mom's a great cook."
Say yes... please...
The expression on Dean's face wasn't only a pondering one, no, it also showed very much visible the back and forth that was going on in his head and his eyes became somewhat distant, almost as if he was getting lost in his own wary world.
"Uhm... yeah, okay," Dean said then, quietly... shy almost.
Yes!
It was admittedly a bit silly how exited and giddy he felt that Dean had just agreed to come over to his place for a few hours, but soon there would be pleasantly much Dean in his life and he would do anything he could to make those few hours would be good for him. Quiet, carefree. Happy.
And fuck yes, he was being corny here.
"Great! Gonna pick you up in the afternoon. Around four? Same corner as always?" Roman asked and he didn't even try to hide the broad smile that grew on his lips.
A nod. And a tiny smile. That smile, although being barely there, made the blue orbs sparkle.
"Okay then, how about we go and grab something to eat now?" he suggested, but he could already see the no coming before Dean said it.
"No, gotta go home..."
Roman wanted to let the protest that was lying on his tongue pass his lips, but he knew it was better to keep it unspoken, so what left his mouth was: "Okay. Lemme give you a ride though."
X
Ro? I, uh... I'm not good at this stuff, you know? But I'm trying and I, uhm... just... thank you...
Dean's words still echoed in his ears while he sat here, on the stairs to the porch to the house. Words he held close to his heart. Laughter soaked the sun spiced air, accompanied with the sound of skateboard and go-cart wheels on concrete and the rhythmically thud of a ball. A dog was barking somewhere. The sky was blue, dotted with little white clouds and the lawn Roman had his eyes fixed on was neatly trimmed and of a bright green. Beside him sat a glass of his mom's self-made lemonade with those ridiculous clover-shaped ice-cubes. The sounds of his mother being busy with preparing dinner came from inside the house.
Fact was, he had taken all this for granted, his sheltered childhood, his open-minded parents who supported him in everything he was doing. He had taken for granted that he had his own room, that there was food when he was hungry. His parents were saving money for him, he had his own car. He got everything he needed and if he wanted, he could join his father's business when he was done with school. His future was safe and the worst thing that could happen to him was to come home after school, his mother waiting for him because she wanted him to help in the household.
This was his own little sheltered, ideal world. And it was idyllic.
Dean had been right.
With a muttered fuck, he braced his elbows on his knees, cradled his head in his hands and screwed his eyes shut. There was a suspicous stinging in his eyes and an ache in his chest. There was this pain that based on bad feelings because Dean... huh, because of what Dean had to go through every fucking single day... and then there was this sweet, oh so sweet ache caused by the feelings he harbored for him. Seth was right, this was far, far more than only a crush. Maybe it had started out as a crush but somewhere along this ridiculously short time he had fallen head over heels for him.
But whether they would only be friends from now on or if there was a chance for more, he had to do something, as soon as possible. He needed to get Dean out of this shit. Somehow. Somehow...
A sudden touch on his shoulder made him jump, his head snapping to the side... to find his mother sitting there. Her eyes wandered over his face while the hand on his shoulder reached up to brush over his hair.
"Hey, baby," she said, tilting her head a bit to the side. "What's bothering you?"
Looking at her in silence, he pondered if he should tell her about it. He would have to tell his parents not to... stare... at Dean anyway when he would come over tomorrow, because even if Dean would cover the damage on his body with a long-sleeved shirt, his face was... well, the evidence of his fathers... affection... was highly visible.
"Uhm, when Dean comes over tomorrow..." he began slowly, feeling like a traitor somehow, but he could not not say a word.
Dean had agreed to come here, so he knew that either he would have to cope with inquiring stares or even comments or that Roman would tell his parents... something.
"What is it?" she asked, tucking a strand behind his ear.
"You and dad... just... don't stare at him, okay? And don't mention anything," he murmured, his eyes dropping back to the lawn.
He didn't need to look at her to feel the question in her gaze.
"Why should we?"
"Because the left side of his face is one huge bruise," he said very, very quietly, clenching his hands to fists at a bright spark of lingering rage.
Silence for a moment.
Then: "What happened?"
"Can't tell you, mom," he replied. "All I can say is that it's not his fault. Look, he just started to trust me and if you..."
"Don't worry," she calmed him. "I'm gonna talk to your dad and everything will be fine." Huh, yeah, everything will be fine, he thought bitterly. If you only knew... "I trust you to choose the right friends but if you need help, then talk to me, okay? We'll find a way to solve the problem."
Nodding slightly, he mumbled: "Okay, mom."
A hand settled on his forearm, a thumb began to brush back and forth tenderly. Her touch was warm and soft, always had been. Soothing. The touch only a mother could give and it made him wonder when the last time had been that Dean had felt a touch like this... and it also made him realize that he didn't even know if Dean had a mom or if there was only his father...
"Mom?"
"Yes, baby?"
"I love you."
Leaning in, she placed a kiss on his temple.
"I love you, too." With that she got up and patted his shoulder. "And now, young man, come in and set the table or else you won't get a dessert later."
The threat was not only half-heartedly but also heavly coated with a smile that laced into her voice. Grabbing his lemonade, he stood up to follow her into the house, vowing silently that he would never again complain about something silly as putting some plates on a table...
- tbc -
Got some words for me?