Humpday = Ambreigns update day :)

I'm so happy that my little story keeps you entertained! And I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, too (although I admit it'll be difficult anyway to top the last one...).

Anyway, I wanna thank you all for coming back! Have fun!

The nightly air was mild and laced with the smoky scent of a barbecue and faint voices, carried over to him by a soft breeze. The neighborhood was illuminated by lamps in the yards and lights which were falling through windows and it seemed to chase the darkness of the night off. It was peaceful here, quiet. He could have fallen asleep right here and now and he wouldn't have to lose a fucking single thought about if something could happen to him. It was safe here.

And it was... awfully empty...

With a sigh he slipped a little deeper in the bench of the canopy swing, resting his head against top of the backrest while staring up to the canopy. His feet were planted firmly on the patio as he rocked the swing slightly back and forth, absentmindedly because his mind was somewhere else, had been ever since he had dropped Dean off.

"Dean..."

The name passed his lips as barely a breath. It was sweet on his tongue but that his friend wasn't here to hear it left a bitter note behind, just like seeing Dean walk away from his car had. Sitting there, watching him leave had felt as if Dean had been slipping from his fingers. He remembered his fingers clenching around the steering wheel, as if he could hold him back that way and he remembered how Dean had turned around a last time, gazing back at him with a cute smile on the kissable lips and a so very soft expression on his face, that it tore hard at Roman's heart.

The walls between them were gone now... but as he'd been seeing Dean like this, it had made it achingly clear that with tearing those walls down, that he'd laid bare what had been safely protected by them. No doubt Dean would have managed to claw his way out of this hell hole on his own, really, but in the end he was only human and although being tough as nails, his past had made him just as... fragile.

The wounds that run deepest are not the ones that leave the visible scars.

Don't go... it was what he'd been thinking, over and over again like a mantra. But Dean had vanished through that front door that was nothing less but the door to hell.

"Shit..." he breathed.

It hurt. It fucking hurt that he had to let Dean go, knowing that he wasn't safe there... knowing everything that had happened to him, that still happened and what Roman couldn't stop. He shouldn't have let him go back. If something happened to Dean now, then it would be his fault.

"Fuck..." A sharp whisper. Brows furrowing over closing eyes... fingers closing firmly around his phone. "Fucking shit..."

Call him, call him not? A part of him had hoped that Dean would call or text him, but the small device stayed stubbornly silent, not giving him the tiniest bit of reassurance by gracing him with that rough and too damn sexy voice with that heart tugging warm dye that lay in it or at least with a message, even if it would have been only a single word.

He snorted softly. Since Dean had hovered over that bowl with the cookies like Gollum over The One Ring, that word would probably have been exactly that. Cookie.

Lifting the phone up, he stared at its screen in an attempt to hypnotize the small device to fucking spit a message out and because it just wouldn't work, he scrolled thtough his contacts to send a message to Dean... and hesitated as the name was shown on the screen.

Don't push him.

He'd given him the phone, had told him that he can call any time and after this evening, he was sure that Dean would do it, call or message him if he wanted to. Maybe... if he was ready for it. Somehow, the way Dean had looked at the phone back in the car, it had seemed a bit like he'd been a bit... scared? No, that wasn't the right word. As if he'd felt crowded? Also not the right way to describe it. In a way that phone was a link between them, wasn't it? I'm not with you yet I am. I can be there if you want me to or if you need me, all it takes is to push tiny button. And maybe that was the thing about it, that so much attention, so much someone being there was still too much for him. But there had also been a happiness lying in his eyes while gazing at the phone.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a figure appear at his side, sitting down beside him. Rolling his head against the backrest, he looked over to his father.

"Hey, dad," he murmured, giving the older man a weak smile.

A cold coke was handed over to him. The hand with the phone dropped to his thigh, while he lifted the coke to his lips to take a sip.

"Your mom and I, we've been talking a bit while you've been away," his father said, fixing his gaze on a random spot in the yard.

"Talking?"

"Yeah, about Dean." He blinked at his father, waiting for him to continue. "Your mother says that he's an amiable young man."

Amiable. Laughing softly, Roman thought that this was totally a word his mother would use but, yes, Dean was... amiable. Much so, if one only put a bit of time and some effort into looking closer at him.

"And you?" he asked quietly, watching as his father nodded lightly.

"I think she's right," the other man replied, glancing over to him. "And he's into cars."

Rolling his eyes, Roman snorted: "Praise the lord!" It earned him a chuckle. "Dad? You're serious about the apprentice position, aren't you?"

"Sure, why are you asking?"

"Just because... I don't think he would cope well if it wouldn't work out for him, you know? If he ends up not having a job. He needs it."

"Don't worry, junior. If he wants the job, he has it." Crossing his arms over his chest, his father sighed quietly and tilted his head a bit to the side. "Dean's a smart boy. I like him. And you like him and if it was the only thing I knew about him, then it would be enough for me. Seeing you putting so much effort into the kid, he can only be someone very special."

"Yeah," Roman mumbled, smiling. "Yeah, he is. Thanks, dad."

A smirk was forming on the older man's lips.

Then: "Also, he's into cars."

"Dad..."

"What?"

"Maybe you should make a tag with he's into cars you can hold up so you don't need to say it constantly."

A gentle pat on his thigh, bringing soft laugther along.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but can it be that there is more than just friendship from your side?"

The question caught Roman off guard and for a second he could only gape at his father, trying to file whether he meant that Dean was being his boy or... more. It didn't make a difference though, his parents had really never had a problem with him being gay, yet he'd never had brought a boyfriend home.

"He just started to trust me," Roman explained, gazing back up to the canopy. "I want to be his friend, you know? I want him to know that I'm there for him no matter what."

"I see," his father said hushed, before reaching over to tap the spot right above Roman's heart. "But he is in there already, isn't he?"

"Dad," Roman muttered, brushing his father's hand off.

"It's the first time I see you like this, junior. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you know? So?"

"I... yeah," he breathed, a sad little smile playing on his lips. "But that's not important right now. Don't get hopes up anyway that there's a chance that he feels the same, so..."

Roman shrugged his shoulders and took another sip from the coke, while running a thumb over the phone in his hand. Another breeze brought light laughter along and it made him wonder how it would sound to hear Dean laugh, a real and wholehearted laughter. He really wanted to hear that one day. And... every human being had the goddamn, fucking right to laugh like that, right...?

"Is it his dad?"

"His stepdad," he replied very, very quietly.

Why should he keep it unsaid? Dean probably wouldn't want him to tell anyone about it but how should he find a way to help him if he kept the shit to himself? And who else should he trust with this but his parents?

"How often?"

"Too often..." And here it was again, the rage, coiling up in his guts. "I found him working at the junkyard yesterday and he was... I... I mean, you've seen his face and... He could barely stand on his own yesterday. Dad, I don't know what to do. All I want is to make sure he's safe but..." He trailed off, swallowed hard and exhaled a heavy breath then. "Fuck, I don't know what to do..."

"Your mom and I, we talked about that, too. I know someone at the youth welfare office and I'm gonna talk to him. We'll find a way to help Dean, okay?"

"Okay." He looked over to his father, opening his mouth to speak but for another brief moment he hesitated. There was this bad feeling he couldn't get rid off, sitting in his guts ever since he'd dropped Dean off but what should he say? Let's go there, now, and do something, now? And even if his dad would agree, then... what? "Uhm, dad? When will you have that talk?"

"I'm gonna do the call on Mon..." his father began, but fell silent as the ringing of a phone cut in.

The phone. It took Roman a short moment until it sank into his busy mind. The phone in his hand, it was calling him. Sitting up straight, he looked at the screen and it was showing... Dean... and he didn't even try to stop the smile that grew on his lips.

Hitting the answer button, he rumbled down the line: "Hey, man, forgot something?"

For a second there was no reaction, only... breathing. And it sounded somewhat weird, unsteady and ragged.

Then: "Ro?"

It was barely even a breath but it washed through him like a freezing cold shower, causing his heart to miss a few beats and his guts to knot up.

"Dean?" Roman asked alarmed, getting up from the swing. "What happened?"

Nothing for a second again except the ragged breathing that got more and more shallow, stealing his own breath as panic and fear made his spine tingle.

His name was breathed down the line. A quiet thud followed, as if the phone had been dropped to the floor.

"Dean?!"

Nothing. No reaction. The world around him fell silent as if every sound had been sucked out of it and all there was left was the barely there sound of too weak breathing through the line. He didn't end the call as he ran to his car, ignoring his father's call, his mother's hand that reached out to stop him...

Dean...

x

The knocking was loud in the quietness of the stairwell. The two officers looked at each other at the lack of reaction, although it was audible that someone was in the apartment. It had been luck that a lady had just left the house the moment they arrived there, telling them the number of the apartment Dean was living in.

His father had caught up to him the moment he'd opened the car door, had told him that he would come with him. Half of the way Roman been holding the phone to his ear, listening to the oh so faint sound of shallow breathing before suddenly there had been another sound. Steps. And right after the line had been dead and for long seconds Roman hadn't been able to breathe. The line was dead and it hadn't been Dean who'd ended the call. He tried not to think about what that meant, tried hard to keep the images his mind came up with down somehow.

The police had been here already when they arrived. He couldn't even tell when his father had called them. The way was a mere blur. Again one of the officers knocked, called to whoever was moving about the apartment to open the door.

"I know Dean's in there," Roman said, his voice unfamiliar breathless to his own ears and obviously also to his father's ears, because a hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Dad, I know that..."

The door opened, making him fall silent mid-sentence and it wasn't Dean it revealed. The guy who was standing there was tall, broad. Massive. Much more than Dean. And now Roman knew what Dean had meant with that he wasn't being a match for his stepdad. The man crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe with a carefully blank expression. Waiting.

"Sir, is it possible to talk to your son?" one of the officers asked politely. "We have a few question's for him."

"He's not at home," the man answered slowly.

It was a lie. It had to be. Dean was here, Roman knew it. The rage which had been simmering in his guts was flaring up brightly and he couldn't help the slight trembling that took hold of him.

Taking a step closer, he hissed: "He's lying! Dean is here!"

"Roman, stop," his father said, planting a hand flat on Roman's chest to push him back a little. "Let the men do their jobs."

"I told you he is not here," the man repeated, raising an eyebrow while looking back at the cops. "What has he done this time?"

"We would like to talk to him first, sir. Do you know where he is at the moment?"

Pushing away from the doorframe, the man put a hand on the door as if he was about to close it again.

Fuck, no. No!

"No, I have no idea, officer. He left an hour ago."

"It's a fucking lie! I know he's here!" Roman hissed, the hand on his chest keeping on holding him back as he once again wanted to step forward. "Dean!"

There was a soft thud, so quiet that it almost got lost yet it was there and the reaction of the cops, both tilting their heads a bit to gaze past Dean's stepfather, told Roman that they had heard it, too.

"Sir, we would like to see ourselves that your son isn't here, so if you..."

"No. What the fuck is going on here?"

The man's gaze jumped from the cops to Roman and his dad and back again and from under the blank mask there was an emotion becoming more and more visible, one that Roman knew all too well. Rage.

"These gentleman have reported a suspicion on domestic violence," the other officer explained.

The emotion that flashed up briefly on the other man's face had no name, but it swallowed the shadow of the rage Roman had seen there, covered it and all it left behind was a sneer. Roman's heart sped up.

"Domestic violence? Oh, I understand. See, he tried making people believe that before. The youth welfare was here often enough, surely someone there can give you the reports and you can assure yourself that it's nothing but a lie. You know, my son goes out and digs for fights so if he runs around with a shiner, then only because he got himself into some shit. And now good night, gentlemen."

With that the man stepped back to close the door. It was that very moment that another quiet sound caught Roman's attention. A soft rustling and a light scratching. And... a low moan. And then everything happened so damn fast.

A hand appeared in the doorway to one of the rooms in the apartment, closing around the frame. Bloody fingers... trying to find a hold.

No!

A shout fell from Roman's lips... Dean's name... and with it he forced the hand on his chest off and moved forward. With a growl he kicked the not yet fully closed door back open. His hands connected with the other man's shoulders to shove him out of the way. Faintly he heard his name being called. He didn't stop. His eyes were fixed on those fingers... and the hunched figure that appeared in the doorway, leaning shakily against the frame. Blood... blood was covering the left, badly bruised side of his face, trickling from a big gash on Dean's forehead. There was a nasty swelling around his left eye...

Dean.

Dean's gaze locked with his. Recognition and relief glinted in the otherwise dull blue eye that was screwed shut suddenly, the battered face contorting in pain.

"Ro..."

He watched as Dean's legs gave out, watched him slide down the the frame and he covered the distance of six, maybe seven meters in the shortest of times yet it seemed endlessly long to him. Closing his arms around his friend, he lowered him down to the floor as gentle as possible as the weight pulled him down mercilessly, until he kneeled on the ground with Dean more lying than sitting between his legs.

There was loud noise in the background, voices yelling but it all faded out as the world around him fell silent and everything in him narrowed on Dean, who was leaning heavily against him. His face was buried against Roman's shoulder and Roman could feel a warm dampness soaking his shirt there. Blood. Bringing a hand up, he cradled Dean's head against his shoulder, his other arm wrapped around the leaner frame to hold him safe. Roman's heart was pounding hard in his chest. He tried to breathe, fought to bring air into his lungs but the cold grip that closed around his chest made it almost impossible. Sickness coiled up in the pit of his guts.

This can't be happening... this can't be happening...

There was a slight movement against him and a touch on his arm as weak fingers were twisting in his shirt and the faintest of tremblings ran though the body in his arms.

"Ro...?"

Not more than a whisper.

"I'm here, 's okay Dean," he said, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "You're safe now."

He blinked back hot tears as he brushed his hand softly over the blond hair while tightening his hold on Dean just a little bit. From the corner of his eye he noticed someone kneeling down beside them. A hand on his shoulder. His father's hand. The ambulance will be here soon, he heard him say.

"Stay with me, Dean," he mumbled, doing his best to ignore that the already weak hold on his shirt got even weaker and that the tension that had been left in Dean was fading. "Don't think about doing something stupid, you hear me?"

A breathless moan... and the trembling which was running through Dean died away. He felt the fingers letting go of his shirt, the hand slipping down to his thigh... and the body in his arms went slack.

No!

For an agonizingly long moment he couldn't move... until he heard it again, that shallow breathing.

God, thank you...

"I've got you," he whispered, holding his friend as close as he dared to. "Hang on..."

Closing his eyes he concentrated on the shallow breathing, willed the paramedics to hurry while he kept whispering to Dean...

... stay with me...

x

Four hours. No... five. Five hours since that moment he'd closed his arms around this battered body, begging Dean to stay with him. Five hours since he'd heard his name being whispered the last time before Dean had become too still. Five hours of waiting, hoping. Of hurting. It fucking hurt him beyond words to see Dean like this, knowing what he must have gone through... although... Roman couldn't really imagine the horror and the pain Dean had been going through.

Five too long hours without the tiniest of signs that Dean was about to come round again and it almost killed Roman not to know what was wrong, which injuries Dean had suffered, because the doctors refused to tell him. All he knew was that Dean wasn't hovering between life and death, what was actually calming yet not, because Dean just wouldn't wake up. But Roman was thankful that he was allowed to sit here at his bed.

Whispering his friends name, he let his gaze wander over the unmoving body, taking in the evidence of what had happened, the damage that wasn't covered by the blanket. Bruises, abrasions all over Dean's upper body, worse than the last time. So much worse... The nasty swelling around his left eye, on his cheek, the ruined lips. And that thick bandage on his forehead that covered the laceration there just above his left eye.

"I'm sorry..."

He squeezed the hand he was holding lightly, lifting his free hand up to the battered face to gently run his fingertips over the sore cheek. How much more damage was hidden under the blanket, he didn't know, because after the doc had allowed him to sit here, he hadn't dared to take a glimpse under the blanket.

"I'm so sorry, Dean..."

Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Dean's shoulder while his fingers moved up to carefully dive into the blond locks. Maybe Dean only needed some rest. Maybe his body demanded it after all the time of being abused. Be patient. It was what Roman told himself over and over again and he had no other choice anyway, had he? All he could do was waiting and be there for Dean when he woke up. At least panic and fear had subsided, but it had given way to anxiety. What would happen now? With Dean? He was away from stepfather for now, wouldn't have to go back to him but no way the youth welfare would allow him to live alone. He knew that his father was talking to someone from the youth welfare this very moment and he hoped, prayed that Dean... that he would be allowed to stay with them.

It all, it was a blur somehow. He knew that the police took Dean's stepfather away and that his father kept talking to him while he kneeled there, holding Dean, that eventually the ambluance arrived and that he had to let go of his friend... but his memory only showed him a rush of sounds and fragments of images, as if he was fast forwarding a movie. But at least this movie had a happy end.

"It's over, Dean. You don't need to go back to him," he said hushed, his thumb brushing back and forth on the back of Dean's hand. "And dad's doing his best that you can stay with us."

Why did it take so long? It all... He wished his dad would come walking in here finally to tell him that the youth welfare had agreed to his suggestion... but even more he wished those baby blues would open again. Now.

"He won't die, Rome. Get a grip."

The sudden voice made him flinch hard, caused him to stiffen the very moment the words sunk in. Sitting up straight, he gazed over to the person who was standing in the middle of the room. Seth. And Roman wanted to say something... like asking him what the hell he was thinking by saying this because Dean was lying here, battered and unconscious... but all he could do was stare.

"Rome..." Seth sighed then as he came walking over to Roman, fetching a nearby chair to sit down beside him. A hand was laid in the back of his neck soothingly. "Look, Dean is not weak, so don't treat him as if he is. He went through this shit on his own for more than six years and he always got back on his feet. You love him and you're worried. I'm worrying about him, too, and I understand that you want to help him but treating him like fragile glass is not the right way and if you're honest, you know that. You got him out of that hell hole and now just be there for him. He will need you and he'll show you what and when."

Blinking slowly, Roman kept staring at his friend, saw him nod a little and smile softly.

I mean no harm, you know I'm your friend.

Sure he knew it. He knew it with every fiber of his body because there was an undeniably strong bond between Seth and him, had been from the first words they had exchanged. And he also knew that Seth was right with what he'd said.

"Besides... what you did was pretty careless, Rome. What if you or your dad would have gotten hurt?"

The expression in those big brown eyes changed to a mix of deep worry and goddamn idiot.

"I know," Roman said while his gaze jumped to Dean's face immediately. "But what else should I have done?"

"Not playing the hero and let the cops do their jobs? They would have found a way to get in there," Seth suggested softly, covering the Roman's hand which was holding Dean's and it was soothing the storm in Roman a little. "Come on, eyes back on me." After a brief moment Roman managed to wrench his eyes away from Dean again but only reluctantly. "Do yourself a favor and try to be a little less perfect, okay? You'll still be perfect enough then. And stop worrying so much, you're not helping him with being a devastated wreck when he wakes up. He's tough and he'll be back on his feet in a week or two."

"Gosh, Rollins, stop being so disgustingly grown-up," Roman laughed quietly.

The laughter became a shaky sigh as Seth leaned in and rested their foreheads together. It was like refuelling, this contact, so badly needed.

"Someone has to take care of you, big bro," he heard him mumble and a smile was audible in it, yet it was a bit dimmed. "You're putting all of you into Dean right now and that's okay, but I can't have you getting lost in it. And not only Dean needs you, you know? I do, too."

Roman's hand left he blond locks then only to find to the dark patch of Seth's hair, holding his friend close because he needed to refuel himself a bit more, just a bit longer...

Li'l bro... calm anchor... soul mate...

"You won't kiss me again now, will you?" Seth chuckled lightly.

Despite the situation Roman had to grin as the memory of that kiss popped up, bringing the taste of cherry lip balsam along, just like the feeling of pleasantly soft lips and he couldn't be blamed for kissing Seth, could he? It was an unwritten law that pretty, fawn-eyed guys with soft lips had to be kissed.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Roman murmured. "Admit it, pretty boy..."

A second. Two. Three. Long seconds in which Roman felt his friend's breath fan over his face, felt how those lips being closer somehow than just a moment before and he wondered who it had been that shortened the little distance. There was a hitching in Seth's breathing. Brief... but there.

"Dunno. Was a bit lame," Seth teased then, pushing and itching a part of Roman that truth to be told was up for a little game.

And also... for a bit of distraction.

"Can do better than that," he rumbled.

The hand that was covering his own moved a little, fingers curling around his own and Dean's hand, hooking under them.

"I think those better kisses belong to Dean," Seth said just above a whisper.

I don't think that he wants them... it was what was lying on Roman's tongue yet he left it unsaid. But Seth was right. Again. And it wouldn't have been fair anyway to kiss his best friend just because the chances that the man he loved reciprocated his feelings were close to null.

"Yeah," he sighed, pulling back to lock gazes with Seth again. Smirking slightly he added: "Was it really lame?"

The smirk mirrored on his friends lips.

"No. No, it wasn't lame," was the answer. "But it felt a bit like kissing a nailbrush."

With a snort Roman released the dark strands from his fingers but not without giving them a playful tug. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling to their joined hands and while he looked at them, he dropped back into reality.

"You wouldn't have needed to come here," he breathed, not looking back up again.

He had sent a message to Seth after arriving at the hospital to tell him what had happened but he wouldn't have expected him to come here in the middle of the night. Not that he minded having him here, quite the contrary.

"You're kidding me, right? Dean is my friend. The fuck I'm gonna stay at home after a message like that and... do you really think I'd let you sit here alone?"

Shaking his head no, Roman glanced over to Seth, before his eyes found back to Dean's face. Still... nothing. If those bruises wouldn't have been, he could have looked like being peacefully asleep.

"How did you know where I am?"

"Met your mom down at the entrance," Seth explained. "She said something about going home to get the guestroom ready for Dean. So he'll stay with you?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Roman closed his eyes and rolled his head. He was tired and the muscles of his neck and shoulders began to ache and feel stiff, now that the tension slowly faded from him. Seth worked soothing on him, obviously.

"Hope so. Dad is talking to someone from the youth welfare."

Roman felt the hand on his being taken off, heard his friend hum and get up, stepping behind him. Hands on his shoulders... gently digging, smoothing, loosening... With a low groan, he dipped his head back against the other man's belly and as he opened his eyes to gaze up, he was greeted by the warm glow of affection lying in the brown eyes, in the gorgeous features.

"Thank you, pretty boy," he smiled, thinking that it was cute beyond words that Seth actually blushed at that.

A fond slap on his shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Reigns."

"But you are and lying is a sin, you know?"

"Save your sappy words for Dean, Don Juan," Seth snorted. "Already tried to kiss him awake? Love can work healing, you know?"

Raising an eyebrow, Roman muttered: "Ssh, no need that he hears that."

He wasn't sure if he was ready to explain himself if Dean heard about his feelings for him.

"Yeah, well, him hearing us would at least mean he's awake again."

Awake again... yeah... If he only knew why Dean wasn't awake yet because it kept gnawing at him, kept feeding the bad feeling that refused to leave him.

"I shouldn't have let him go back home in the first place..." he mumbled, rolling his head a bit against Seth's belly.

"Stop that, will ya? We both know there's nothing you could have done to prevent this. He couldn't have stayed with you, Rome, because sooner ot later someone would have come to bring himback to his stepfather."

"That's not gonna happen again," a new voice stated and it made Roman sit up straight.

"Dad?"

His father was walking in, together with a white clad man and the expression he found on his father's face gave his heart reason to jump happily.

"Dean can stay with us for now. The social welfare worker said that they'll have to check some things before they can give their final okay, but the chances are good that he will be allowed to stay with us until he comes of age."

A relieved sigh dropped from his lips, mingling with Seth's thank God and he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the mattress, lifting Dean's hand to press its back against his forehead while his heart did a tap dance in his chest. A soft sound beside him told him that Seth had sat back on his chair again. A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

It's okay now, it said. It was. Almost.

Without looking at the two men standing in the middle of the room he asked: "Why isn't he waking up?"

"We sedated him." The doctor's voice. "But he should wake up in a few hours."

"How long will he have to stay here?" Seth wanted to know.

"If there won't be any problems within the next hours, he'll be allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow already," the doctor explained. "His left shoulder was dislocated and he suffered various bruises and superficial cuts. The laceration on his forehead needed suturing but it should heal without any problems. He's probably having a minor concussion and there is a big bruise in the left kidney area. We're not sure yet if he suffered a contusion of the kidney, too."

Now Roman did look up, gazing at the man with wide eyes. Their joined hands sank back down to the mattress but his hold on Dean's hand tightened involuntary.

"Contusion of the kidney?" he asked alarmed.

"Yes, but we don't expect it to be more than a first grade contusion. He'll have back pain in the lower back for a while and he may feel sick. He will need a lot of rest for the next days but don't worry, he'll be okay soon."

"Thanks, doc," he breathed. No serious damage... and Dean would be okay. He would be okay... His eyes found back to Dean's face, wandered over it for a moment. "I'm staying with him," he said quietly.

"I'm staying, too," Seth added as he scooted closer, laying a hand on Roman's and Dean's again.

There was no objection uttered, neither from the doctor nor his father and he wouldn't have listened to it anyway, even if it would have meant that he had to sneak back into the room after being kicked out. The doctor nodded and left and after a moment of silent gazing at them, Roman's father left, too.

Quietness settled over the room as they sat there, hand joined like a symbol for the bond they shared, and in that quietness there was only the soft sound of shallow breathing but this time it was calm. It was okay. It was the breathing of someone who was sleeping peacefully and this time Dean wouldn't wake up to a nightmare again...

Okay, so I hope you liked it? Tell me, guys :)