Author-puppy-me is a tail-wagging fluff-ball of happiness XD
So much love from you guys! *heart-eyes*
And once again I hope you won't be disappointed with my freshly baked Humpday-Ambreigns-update :3
PS: *holds out kleenex boxes* I know I'm late with giving you guys tissues but maybe you will have use for them for the next chapters. Who knows? ;)
Thick and heavy blackness, perfectly calm. He drifted in it, afloat in leaden numbness... voices... faraway... and touches... so soft... and he... he knew those touches... could trust them... he knew those touches could make it better again...
... floating... drifting towards a faint light and being pulled back down into darkness, into that peaceful nothing...
Ssh, Dean... it's okay, you're safe. No one's gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let anyone touch you. Ever again.
Ro?
Yeah, I'm here.
Ro...
A familiar scent in the midst of nothing, so calming, cocooning him...
I'm here, Dean, 's okay... you're safe now.
... touches... so gentle...
I've got you. Stay with me...
... Ro...
Those touches were urging him and Roman... he was calling him... and he fought to open his eyes but he was so tired... so fucking tired and somehow he knew that he should be howling in pain... but he wasn't hurting. All there was... was this numbness... A touch on his face... in his hair, so very gentle...
It got brighter, that light, seeping into the blackness... illuminating, washing the nothing away to lay conciousness bare and with it came pain. It was faint but it was there. A weak moan escaped his throat and he fought to open his eyes. The pain got stronger with every moment. His head began to pound and his shoulder was throbbing. His left side felt as if a knife was sticking in it.
"Dean? Come on, open your eyes."
Worry... thick in the low rumbling. Roman was calling him... and he could do it. Open his eyes... he needed to... just open them... Brightness. There was brightness... and worried grey eyes gazing at him...
"Ro...?"
... yet there wasn't only worry but also deepest affection...
"Hey..." A hand smoothing over his hair. "Welcome back, Han Solo."
The light around them was bright, glaring and there was lots of white. Strange sounds and scents.
"Where...?" he rasped, wincing as the ache in his side and his head flared briefly.
His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of it. So fucking thirsty...
"You're in a hospital," Roman explained hushed.
Hospital? His heartrate spiked and he wanted to sit up but it only made the pain worse, drawing another weak moan from him. A hand settled on his chest, carefully holding him down but he wouldn't have been able to sit up anyway.
"Shit..." he groaned, screwing his eyes shut again. Fucker had done a perfect job. "Fucking hurts..."
"I know," Roman soothed. "They'll give you painkillers in a minute." He wanted to drop back into that nothing, didn't want to be here now and hurt. Fucking wasn't fair. The hand on his chest stayed there, slowly rubbing soothing circles. And then steps, coming in and over to him. "Okay, the nurse is giving you something."
Keeping his eyes screwed shut a moment longer, he breathed against the pain. There was the voice of a woman, telling them that the influx of pain was the worst and that it would get better now. Fuck this, he hadn't signed up for this shit and how could it be that he had gone from being too fucking tired to even open his eyes to being too damn fucking awake within only a few seconds?
The doctor will be here soon, he heard the nurse say. And then she left again.
"Is it getting better already?" Roman asked quietly, keeping his hand on Dean's chest, not rubbing circles anymore but letting it rest on the spot right above his heart.
Was it? Yeah, maybe a little and as the pain dimmed, he returned from being too damn awake to just being awake while his mind engulfed itself with a certain fuzziness again. Eventually his body let go of a tension which Dean hadn't even noticed having taken a hold on him.
"... 's better," he mumbled, breathing a sigh right afterwards. "Want out of here."
"The doc has to check on you first," Roman murmured and squeezed his hand and it was now that Dean realized that it had been there the whole time, that their hands were joined. Weakly he squeezed back. "I texted dad that you're waking up and I guess he'll be here soon. He'll check you out if the doc gives his okay."
Getting out of here. It was what he wanted, only that there was an error in this plan because it meant that... that he had to... go back...
His fingers closed tighter around Roman's while his heart sped up again in a mixture of rage and fear.
"No!"
The word passed his lips as a mere breath while his eyes snapped open. The sudden impact of the bright light above him stung in his eyes, lightening the fragments of the memory of what had happened. Roman moved beside him, sat down on the edge of the mattress while his hold on his hand never ceased. The one which had been resting on his chest moved up to cup his cheek tenderly while those by now oh so familiar grey eyes gazed down on him in deepest worry again.
"Hey, calm down," Roman soothed. "You're breathing too fast. Sssh, Dean, everything is okay. It's okay, you're safe. Nothing will happen to y..."
"Can't go back," he forced out somehow as he sat up despite not the fully faded pain and it made it worse again.
Letting go of his hand, Roman wrapped his arms around Dean's upper body, both to steady him and to pull him against the broad frame, holding him close even as he struggled against the hold.
"Calm down, Dean. Hey, calm down, you don't have to go back to him. You hear me? You're not going back..."
It took a moment... until his mind processed what Roman had just told him. He stopped struggling then and simply leaned against Roman while clinging to those words and biting back the pain. His heart was still running in his chest while he just breathed deeply for a few seconds, before he could speak again.
"But..."
"You are not going back," Roman repeated hushed. "The police has jailed your stepfather."
Drawing back a bit, he searched Roman's eyes for a comfirmation that he was really hearing right.
"The police?"
"Yeah, the police. We called them, you know, after you called me and..." Roman fell silent and swallowed hard. "My father talked the youth welfare into letting you stay with us."
His still not really clear mind tried hard to catch up and for a long moment he wasn't sure if he was really awake or if this was a weird dream.
"Why would they do that?" he breathed, blinking slowly while willing his spinning thoughts to slow down. "They don't even really know me..."
"They like you, Dean. Mom said that you're an amiable boy," Roman said, his voice taking on a higher pitch as he imitated his mother, probably attempting to lighten the mood. "No really, they like you. And they say that a good boy like you deserves a chance."
A good boy... huh, yeah...
"I'm not a good boy..."
"Don't say that. You are." A hand found to his hair and fingers smoothed through it. "You know that you are."
Sometimes it's better to be happy about a good thing instead of thinking it to death.
Seth's words echoed in his ears and it was what for now made him not question why people who didn't really know him would put up with all that being responsible for him would bring along. They fell silent, and Dean could only gaze at this man who so stubbornly believed in him. Things were humming in the bit of space between them, he could feel it, even through the overwhelming rush of this unreal situation and it seemed that Roman felt it, too, because he pulled his hand back and let go of Dean and whatever it had been, it was gone as suddenly as it had come as Roman stood up.
"You thirsty?" Roman asked as he walked over to the nearby table to get a glass and a bottle of water.
"Fuck yes, my throat feels like sandpaper," Dean rasped, gratefully taking the glass that was held out to him.
"You missed Seth." Dean spyed over the rim of the glass while he swallowed the cool water greedily, frowning at Roman. "I texted him while I've been waiting for you to wake up. He came here and spent the whole night sitting with me at your bed."
Lowering the glass, he blinked at Roman who took it from his hand to place it on the small table beside the bed.
I like you. I even dare to say that you're my friend although you might be thinking otherwise.
Seth had said that to him, not all too long ago while they'd been sitting in the bleachers during Roman's training and already back then he'd thought that it felt good to hear that Seth considerd him a friend and it made him feel guilty because he'd never shown Seth that... that he was considering him a friend, too. He did, really. At least as much as he was able to be friends with someone. But he was learning, wasn't he? To trust? To be a friend?
Still he asked: "He really did that?"
Maybe he asked this because it still didn't fit into the world he was used to that someone actually cared for him.
Roman nodded.
"Yeah, the whole night. He's worried about you, you know? I sent him home about an hour ago to get some sleep and take a shower," his friend explained, standing up to grab some clothes from a nearby table. "He wanted to be back in..." Roman glanced at his watch. "In about two more hours but with a bit of luck we'll be out of here in less than an hour. Gonna text him. Think it'll be better if he comes over tomorrow. You need to rest."
He handed the clothes over to Dean while flipping the blanket back. The very first second Dean felt the urge to quickly pull it back to cover... it... but they had passed that point already and it was what he was telling himself now. Roman has seen it already. He knows it. No need to hide it anymore. It didn't go unnoticed by him though how Roman winced ever so slightly as if it was hurting him to see it, yet Dean wouldn't have been surprised if it really did hurt Roman. Somehow.
He wanted to reach out as the features of the handsome face suddenly seemed strained but hesitation kept him from doing it. It was a hesitation without a real reason because this point, hadn't they passed it, too?
Fuck, yes...
And as Roman perched on the mattress, dipping his head forward a little while pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, Dean managed to stop thinking too much for a moment and just brought his good arm up and around the other man's neck to pull him closer. Roman's hand dropped to his thigh. Their foreheads touched.
Good...
"It's my fault that you're here now. I should've done something, I..."
It was a mere whisper but the guilt was loud in it. It fucking shouldn't be like that. This wasn't right.
"Don't say that," he hushed Roman. "It's not your fault and there's nothing you could have done." It got him a single, breathless laughter. A bitter one. "Ro... you've done more than anyone has ever done for me. So stop blaming yourself. Okay?" Roman breathed a sigh. "Okay?" Dean repeated, burying his hand in the black mane to give it a gentle tug.
"Yeah... yeah, okay..."
"Good, 'cause, you know, I'm not good at this comforting people shit, man," he mock-huffed, letting go of the long hair that was like silk between his fingers as the darks strands slipped through them.
It was a pleasant feeling, one that itched the urge to touch it again and the thing was that Roman probably wouldn't have had a problem with him just doing that because although Roman didn't push him and left him room, it seemed that there was somehow no distance left. Or rather Roman was willingly giving any distance up. Superman was standing there with his arms wide open, waiting patiently.
Too good for this world fool. Bordering on a bloody idiot. Taking so much shit...
His hand dropped to the mattress, nails scratching lightly over the sheets in nervous trails while Roman reached out for the clothes, but he faltered in his movement and instead of taking the clothes, a hand was settled on Dean's busy one, staying there until it stilled under the big palm.
"Mom has brought you one of my track suits. It'll probably look a bit baggy on you," Roman said as he took his hand away. "Wanna throw it on?"
No question, sitting here in only under underwear with all the black and blue art on his body wasn't what made him feel comfortable. Not that he needed to hide it anymore, right? It was okay now that people saw it and asked questions, because he wasn't alone with this anymore and every question was a lock more to the cage they would hopefully jail that goddamn, fucking son of a bitch in. Still...
"Yeah," he murmured.
Putting the track suit on turned out to be not that easy because moving fucking hurt like bitch even if it wasn't a sweater but a hoody jacket and they hadn't finished the task yet as the door opened and Roman's dad and the doctor came walking in. The following minutes rained down on Dean like too wet rain, soaking him and leaving him feel uncomfortable. Touching, prodding, asking questions, gazes and instructions. The few minutes seemed like a little eternity to him because all he wanted was to get out of here. Away.
And then... the doc gave his okay and left.
"I talked to the police if it's okay to get your stuff," Roman's dad explained. "They said that they're done with collecting evidence in there, so if you feel up to, we can stop by and get your things."
"I..." Dean mumbled, trailing off though, averting his gaze.
Going there? Now?
"We don't have to," Roman added hushed. "If you rather want to go another day then..."
Shaking his head no, Dean replied: "No... no, let's go there. It's okay."
... I think...
Going there another day would only delay the moment he could draw a line under all this and he had waited for too long already to do it, draw that fucking line and leave it all behind. Slowly he stood up, coming to stand on slightly unsteady legs but the very moment his feet touched the ground, Roman was right there beside him. An arm was wrapped around his back to steady him, if only for a brief moment, and as he gazed over to him, there was this very expression that told him I am here.
Yeah, you are, Dean thought as they made their way to the door. And don't you dare leaving me again...
X
The air was stale and thick like a wall, the stench that was lying in it too fucking familiar and every fiber in his body bridled at it and screamed to get the bloody hell out of here. Now. Now...
"It's okay," he heard Roman murmur right beside him. A touch on the small of his back. Roman's hand. "If you don't want to be in here, then you can wait outside with dad and I'm gonna get your stuff for you."
"I..." Dean began, tempted to just accept the offer and wait outside, surrounded by fresh air instead of bad memories. But no... no. He wasn't a coward, was he? It was just a few minutes of switching the autopilot on and collect a handful of things. No thinking, just doing and then he could walk out of here and never come back. Turning his head just a tad, he looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. Roman... Roman was here with him, like a calm point in the midst of a swirl of nauseating reality. And more than anything else it was this promise, this one thing he'd vowed himself that left him no other chance than doing this now. It was the vow to walk out of this apartment and the life that was none when the day had come that he was free. That day... it was now. "No, I gotta do this," he replied quietly.
With that he limped down the corridor and towards his room with Roman close behind him and he hadn't even reached it as he saw the dark stains on the door frame. His steps were falterting briefly as his brain hit rewind, bringing him back to the night before. And then he was standing in the doorway to his room. He stopped, stood frozen to the spot as he looked round. The few things he called his own were lying scattered all over the room.
Dark streaks were leading from the door frame to the middle of the room, ending in something that looked a little like an oversized inkblot test but he knew that it was his own blood. It was this very moment his brain his the play button but the movie it showed him was blurred. Roman appeared on his side and again he felt his friend's hand on the small of his back, reassuring, whispering to him that nothing would happen to him. Never again.
"I can't remember much after..." Trailing off, he tilted his head a bit to the side, furrowing his brows and squinting his eyes, willing the fuzzy images to become clearer. "I... I called you..." he mumbled.
There was the tinge of a question lying in it because although he was sure that he'd called Roman, the memory felt kind of unreal every time it popped up and all those shreds of images, bits and pieces of what had followed... it all was vague. Things which had happened... or maybe not the way he remembered them. Maybe even which had not happened at all.
"Yeah, you called me. You passed out I think... and on the way to your place I tried to call you awake 'cause the line was still open. But then I heard steps and suddenly the call was ended.
"My stepfather," he growled lowly.
"I tried to call you again but the line was dead."
His eyes wandered the room once more, again over the dark stain on the floor and his few belongings and in between his gaze came to rest upon... the phone. Two steps... and he hunched down, his movements careful and slow and accompanied by groans he stifled because he didn't want to alarm Roman more than necessary. Reaching out, he picked the small device up and looked at it in silence. It was cracked... as if someone had stepped on it, had scrunched it under his feet. But actually there was no as if because it was exactly what had happened, wasn't it? The fucking bastard had done it to make sure he couldn't call help. I made him wonder if his stepfather had even realized that he had been too late with his attempt to prevent this.
"And then?" he wanted to know, his voice wearing a faraway tinge.
Quiet steps and then Roman hunched down beside him. Close. Close enough that their shoulders bumped a little and it was okay, that contact, it was good because it did what every of Roman't touches did. It was telling him I am here. Involuntary he leaned into the contact.
"The officers told him that they want to talk to you," Roman explained, the low voice tense. "He said that you're not at home but I knew that he was lying. I, uhm... I kicked the door open..."
"You did what?" Dean snorted softly, gazing over to Roman.
The image of Roman doing that brought a small smile to his lips and the idea that this man didn't hesitate getting in so much trouble for him and... and even risked to get bodily harmed.
Big menacing Superman...
"He wanted to close the door. I couldn't... I had to get in here somehow and so I kicked the door open, shoved him out of the way and..."
Roman trailed off but Dean knew what was left unsaid.
And then I found you.
It was written there on the handsome face, in the shadow that cast over the grey eyes and in the way his friend clenched his hands to fists. What Roman had just said... it brought the washy memory of voices up and in between there was Roman's voice and Dean faintly remembered that he had wanted to call out for him... and pain as he'd fought to get to the door...
"Ro?"
Brows furrowed. Lips were pressed to a thin line briefly.
"Let's talk about it at home, okay?" Roman asked quietly, meeting his gaze with an expression that made Dean question if he really wanted to hear it.
"Okay," he replied, straightening up again.
The hiss that crept past his lips at the pain that jolted through him was out before he could bite it back. The bastard had done a neat job and maybe it was a good thing that he couldn't remember much after the first blows.
Arms closed around his upper body, carefully helping him up and Dean curled an arm around his friend's neck, partly for added support and partly because he wanted to. Just a bit of closeness now, just one moment because... just because. There was no need for a reason, was there? Roman was here with him and having him close felt good and he was allowed to do this, to hold on to his friend. That was reason enough.
And maybe, just maybe there was a part of him that wanted to yell: See, fucking asshole? This is Roman and you can't take him away from me!
But the very moment he was standing upright again, a sharp pain blazed up in his left side, causing his knees to buckle a bit but the arms around him held him safe.
"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face against Roman's shoulder. "Fucking shit..."
"Where does it hurt?" he heard his friend ask worried.
"What do you think, Reigns? I'm a fucking ball of pain!" he snapped and regretted it immediately because it wasn't Roman's fault, all this and he was here, helping him and he didn't deserve to be snapped at. He didn't even know where the biting reply had come from. Besides he knew what Roman had meant. "Sorry, Ro, I didn't mean to..."
"I know," came the quiet reply, not reproachful but understanding.
Too good for this world fool...
Once more he wondered what it would take to make Roman being mad at him but to be honest, he hoped he wouldn't find out. Ever.
"Kidney," he gritted out while the stinging pain lasted.
The hold on him shifted a bit, becoming even more gentle if possible and wasn't there a thumb brushing back and forth on his back? Soothing... And he allowed himself to drop into this embrace and be weak for a moment, because this was the kind of weakness that was born out of being exhausted and hurting and there was nothing bad about not being strong for once. He'd been strong long enough, no matter if he'd been having the strength to or not. There was a lot he had to catch up on... because one needed to be weak every once in a while to always be strong.
But it was something else that dimmed the pain. It was the way Roman turned his face into the crook of his neck this very moment while one of his hands moved down to the sore area, just resting there in a light touch.
His name was whispered against his neck... creating a weird tingling in his chest, causing his heart to tick in a rhythm that it wasn't supposed to. Again.
What is just happening here...?
It was what Dean was asking himself and there was still a quiet voice left in him that kept telling him not to let this happen... to let Roman happen... and to step out of this embrace but he didn't. It wasn't the first time he felt this, wasn't it, like during their little game of basketball... when they had ended up lying on the ground with Roman on top of him, so close and... and also last night, back in Roman's room and maybe that voice was right, maybe he should not let Roman happen as more than a friend... or else he would end up being disappointed. Roman had given him so much already, more than he would have expected that someone would give him, ever.
He was misinterpreting this anyway, wasn't he? Roman had a tactile nature, not only with him but also with Seth and there was nothing else behind it but friendship.
Friend. Friend. Friend.
"Dean?" Roman said lowly.
He didn't only hear him say it, he also felt the rumbling voice. He fucking felt it, felt it tug a chord in him that made this goddamn tingling brighter and wasn't it a fucking joke that he was standing here now, thinking, feeling this? This all? Out of all places and moments?
Maybe allowing himself to be weak hadn't been a good idea...
"It's better," he mumbled, pulling back without meeting those grey eyes which gazed at him inquiringly.
He knew it because he could fucking feel it, the question lying in it and worry and compassion and... soemthing else. Heavy and almost graspable but without a bloody name to call it.
Get a grip, Ambrose, you're just all mixed up, he chided himself.
He got a reluctant okay while he made his way over to his backpack that was lying on the ground and after a moment of hesitation he began to pack his school stuff that was scattered over the floor into it, biting back the pain as he bent down. He still held the cracked phone in his hand. Somehow he couldn't put it aside...
"Got a bag for your clothes?"
"Duffel bag. Under the bed," he replied quietly, seeing Roman fish for the bag and begin to collect the clothes which were lying all around.
So often he'd done what they were doing now, packing his few belongings to leave this apartment for good, but all his attempts before had ended with him landing here again. Rustling in the background told him that Roman was busy putting the clothes into the bag and when he turned around a moment later, he found his friend already done and waiting for him.
"What else?" Roman asked, taking a look around.
A grim smile tugged at Dean's lips.
"My tooth brush."
A second or two of silence.
Then: "You're serious."
"Sure I'm serious. What did you expect?"
"I... don't know," Roman muttered, stepping up to him. Taking the backpack from Dean's hand to throw it over his shoulder he added: "At least a book or something like that."
"He sold everything he got his hands on except for the TV," Dean explained indifferently because it had been something he'd long come to terms with.
Whatever he had called his own, as soon as his stepfather had gotten the chance, it had been sold. Even if it had been a fucking book that had brought in only a buck or two. He saw that Roman wanted to say something, probably not knowing what to say at all to this though. Patting the broad chest friendly, he began to make his way to the bathroom to get the tooth brush and in a way the tiny item was another part of the step to draw a line under his old life, as silly as it sounded. Roman was waiting in the corridor as he came back out again, holding the bag open so he could put it in.
"The phone?" Roman asked, frowning lightly while pointing at the small device that Dean still held in his hand.
"Wanna keep it."
"But it's..."
"I just, uh..." He couldn't leave it here. He also couldn't throw it away because if this phone hadn't been, then... "I just wanna keep it, you know?"
Roman frowned a bit deeper briefly, before nodding.
"Okay then, let's go home, Han Solo."
Home. The word was fleeting over him like a soft breeze.
"Home..." Dean breathed.
It tasted good on his tongue, new and rich and addictive. Home. Something he'd never really had. Fucking bastard had taken the bit of home he'd had as a kid away from him. Even if he wouldn't be allowed to stay with Roman and his parents very long, it'd still be more home than he would ever have hoped to have. Fuck, this one evening with them had already been more home than he'd ever been allowed to have. An arm was slung around his shoulder, the touch mindful of his sore one as they walked along the corridor but when they reached the front door, Dean stopped and turned back, letting his eyes roam one last time.
For a second he wished his stepfather would be here now so could spit in his face... but in a way the bastard was here, wasn't he? It was his apartment, it smelled like him, stale beer and cigarettes, and all that was left in here belonged to this man.
Straightening up a bit more, Dean spat to the floor and growled then: "Game over, motherfucker. You lost."
Turning his back on the apartment, he let Roman steer him out of the building where the afternoon sun was shining brightly and the air was alive and there at the car daddy Reigns was waiting for them with a warm smile on his face. He met them half-way, taking the bag from his son and placing a hand on the back of Dean's neck in a unfamiliar fatherly way while gazing at him scrutinizingly.
"You okay, son?"
He'd always known that words could be powerful and this one word now, it was strong. He knew that just like junior it was only a way to call a younger man but still...
"Yeah," he said just above a whisper.
He watched the older man nod, felt the hand on his neck vanish as daddy Reigns made his way over to the trunk and then he felt Roman's hand on the small of his back again, gently pulling him along to the car.
X
Quietness had settled over the house and the outside world had fallen dark a while ago. Dean was sitting on... on his new bed... his own bed, at least for now, propped up on a bunch of pillows against the headboard, his knees drawn up and with his hands resting in his lap while his eyes were fixed on the dim lights of the neighborhood. The light in his room was switched off. He didn't want to alarm anyone in here, didn't want them to worry, just as he didn't want to having them asking question he couldn't give an answer to... like what was bothering him. He would tread on their toes if he answered that and it was the last thing he wanted. Besides it was more peaceful like this anyway
It was late, past midnight already and he should probably have been trying to sleep but although he was dog tired and exhausted to the bones, he simply couldn't find the point to just lie down and close his eyes. The aftermath of the events left him unable to come down and there was also a bad feeling lingering in his guts. What if he closed his eyes now, being here in cookie-land and the next time he opened them again, he was back in that hell hole? Silly enough he'd already thought about pinching himself to make sure he was awake, yet he hadn't done it. Again, what if he woke up and he wasn't here...?
And actually it wasn't only the aftermath of the events... it was also the here and now. In a good way though but what had happened after they had come here... it was too much almost. No, not almost. It was too much for him to handle it. Mommy and daddy Reigns and this house, this room. It all was raining down on him and yes, although they were trying to give him his new life in small doses, it still was too much. With a sigh he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Why was it so goddamn hard to let go and allow himself to just drop into this? Here it was again... when had the idea of receiving any kind of affection and kindness become more frightening than the thought of getting a beating? He had crossed that line with Roman but now he had come to that point with Roman's parents...
Surreal. It was how it felt to him as he stepped into the house because not even twenty-four hours ago he had wished he could stay here and now...? Roman's dad had vanished upstairs with the duffel bag and the backpack.
Roman was standing beside Dean and it resumed its place, that hand on his lower back, reassuring and soothing and encouraging. The sweet scent of cookies was lying in the air and busy sounds were coming from the kitchen. It was warm in here and it wasn't the warmth the reigning summer brought along... but warmth. The kind of warmth only a loving family could create.
"Welcome home," he heard Roman say, heard the smile that was lying in it.
He gazed over to him, wanting to see that smile and the moment their eyes locked it was there, sparkling in the grey eyes and it became even brighter. There was the sound of steps coming closer and a light voice, greeting them. Roman's mom. A hand on his shoulder before he could look over and not even a blink later a gentle hold engulfed him as mommy Reigns closed her arms around him in a careful embrace and for a moment he was too stunned to react.
"Let the kid breathe."
Daddy Reigns. Stepping up to them. When had he come back down?
"Good to have you here, Dean," she said hushed as she drew back then, cupping his sore cheek. And suddenly he felt... cornered... and the urge to get away from this and only Roman's hand stopped him from backing out. "Are you hungry?"
Willing his breathing to stay calm, Dean replied: "I... no, thanks..."
"Maybe some lemonde and cookies? You liked them, didn't you?"
"Patricia, give him a few minutes," daddy Reigns murmured. "He hasn't even really arrived here."
"I'm sorry but it's just... you scared us, Dean," she explained, her hand dropping to take hold of Dean's briefly before she stepped back.
A motherly yet also a bit sad smile formed on mommy Reigns' lips and somehow it left Dean feeling as if he needed to apologize to her for causing her worries.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he mumbled.
"Oh, no-no, you don't have to apologize," she said, obviously holding back not to touch him again. "Do you need anything?"
"He's tired, mom," Roman cut in. The hand on the small of Dean's back left, only to close around one of his hands to gently pull him along as Roman added: "Come on, I'm gonna show you your room."
He followed Roman silently up the stairs and with every step the irrational urge in him to get away from here quietened as he was led to a room that was catty-cornered from Roman's. Only then the other man gave his hand free. Dean looked around, blinking slowly.
"Sorry, I know she can be pretty, well, overwhelming," Roman apologized. "But she was really shocked about what has happened and worried about you and she's just glad that you're here now and as okay as you can be under the circumstances."
He heard it... yet his mind was too occupied with processing other things. Glued to the spot he could only gaze around, his eyes wandering over a big closet and a bed that wasn't as big as Roman's but this huge compared to his old one, over a desk and a TV. It was clean and tidy, everything looking so new and untouched. The room was much bigger than his old one was. Once, twice and a third time he looked around. His heart did something funny in his chest, tripping over itself and tumbling into jumping happily. His room. This was... it was his own room now? Eventually he was able to move again and slowly he walked over to the bed and sat down on it, his hands smoothing back and forth over the duvet for a second or two, before he curled his fingers into the fabric. Soft. It was... so damn soft...
"Dean?"
"This is my room?" he assured himself that he had understood this right.
"Yeah, this is your room now," Roman confirmed while coming over to him. The mattress dipped a bit as the he sat down close beside Dean, causing their shoulders and knees to bump. "Why? Something not okay with it?"
He couldn't stop the laughter from crawling up his throat and his attempt to stifle it made it pass his lips as a twisted little sound. This room? Not okay? The fuck...
"It's too fucking okay, Ro," he said just above a whisper then. "It's... I..."
"It is not. Yes, I know you're used to..." Roman trailed off and sighed. Then: "This is the basic version of a room. You'll need a computer and if you want books, DVDs or whatever, then just say a word."
Just say a word... huh...
"I uh, I can't... it's just not okay," he mumbled, shaking his head no while bowing it a little as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees.
Absentmindedly he began to pluck at the sleeve of the hoody jacket while his eyes fixed on the floor. How should he ever repay that? From having less than zero to having more than a hundred percent in less than one day was... it was too much. Again the mattress bounced, this time because Roman stood up to kneel in front of him and with a hushing sound he put a hand on Dean's, stopping the nervous plucking. Automatically Dean began to gnaw at his bottom lip but stopped immediately at the sharp sting as it jarred the cuts.
"Will you stop that? You're thinking too much," Roman sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It is okay to just accept good things sometimes, you know? My parents wouldn't have done this if they didn't really want it and believe me when I tell you that they see you as a part of this family now. You can rob the fridge in the middle of the night if you're hungry and it's okay. You can go down and let mom talk your ear off or philosophize with dad about the beauty of spark plugs and it's okay."
Dean looked up and was met by slighty widened eyes and raised brows that created a cute puppy expression on Roman's face.
"The beauty of spark plugs?" he snorted.
"Yeah, well, dunno what kind of talks you car freaks do," Roman shrugged.
And then Dean nodded. Not because he actually really was ready to accept what had been said, but to stop the mood from dropping further when there was no real reason for a bad mood. His good shoulder began to twitch a little in some kind of a displacement activity and immediately Roman put his free hand there.
"I uh, I just need some time, you know, to get used to this."
"I know," Roman murmured. "Actually I'm a bit surprised that you cope so well with all the attention and people crowding you and... well, what happened yesterday was..." Briefly his friend fell silent, obviously trying to come up with the right words. "I wouldn't have been able to tough it out like you do." It seemed that he wasn't really happy with his choice of words though. "What I want to say is... you have all the time you need. Okay?"
Dean nodded again and mumbled an okay. What lay on his tongue though, unspoken because this moment wasn't the right one, was that he had never really toughed it out... but endured it. Having a thick skin, living with something wasn't the same as getting over it. Bad things that last long dig and dig until they become deeply rooted. Like fucking weeds... and even if you refused to admit it, ignored it, thought that everything was okay, it was still there. In a way those things never became a thing of the past, somehow always being present, even if it was only an uneasiness if someone simply touched you.
Leave it to Roman to smell that something was going on and Dean could already see the question form in his friend's eyes. It was a knock at the door that saved him. Quickly gazing over to the door, he sat up straight and winced as his side stung.
"Your mom needs a hand in the kitchen, junior," daddy Reigns addressed his son while coming over to the bed.
It didn't go unnoticed by Dean that somehow Roman was reluctant about leaving him alone now and so he nodded softly.
"You heard your dad. Go help your mom, Ro."
Still reluctant Roman straightened up, his fingers sliding through Dean's hair before vanishing and the featherlight touch as the fingerstips travelled over his scalp in the process sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.
"Okay. Will be back in a few," he heard him murmur, before watching him leave the room.
The moment Roman was gone... Dean resumed the nervous plucking at the sleeve of his jacket and he couldn't help it although he knew that this man wasn't going to do anything bad to him. He glanced at the older man but they had barely made eye contact as his gaze dropped back to the floor. And Dean felt so damn impolite for not even looking the man straight in the eyes but again... he couldn't help it.
From the corner of his eye he noticed him walking over to the bed, standing there for a moment in which he put a friendly hand on Dean's good shoulder, just letting it rest there briefly.
"I know it's been a lot for you, today," the older man began, sitting down on the bed, too, with a bit of distance between them. "You know, my wife was very upset about the incident and it's her way to compensate it." A tiny smile crept over Dean's lips. Well, now he knew from whom Roman had his overly tactile nature. "And you'll probably have to eat a ton of cookies in the next days 'cause she's a stress baker."
"Huh, could be worse I guess," Dean grinned.
"Yeah, could be. Good thing she's good at baking, too," daddy Reigns smiled back.
Fuck yes, she was. The shining goddess of triple choc cookies actually.
"Dean, take your time, okay? If you feel up to coming down to us and chat, just do that but if you rather want to rest or be on your own, that's okay, you know? We'll be having dinner in about two hours, so if you want, then join us. But nobody will take it wrong if you stay up here," daddy Reigns explained. "Roman will stay at home from school tomorrow and I'll go to your school and settle a few things. In a few days you'll have to give evidence at the police though but for now all you need to do is feel good and get well."
"Thank you, sir," Dean mumbled, at a loss what else to reply. His head was spinning and he felt torn between being happy and feeling bad because these people were doing all this for him.
"Okay, son, I'll leave you alone now. If you need something, just say a word, no matter what it is, okay?" daddy Reigns added as he stood up.
A hand was laid on his good shoulder again. A gentle squeeze. And then the older man walked towards the door.
"Mister Reigns?" Dean called quietly. There was a question lying on his tongue, one that not necessarily had to be asked now but he needed to know.
"Yes?"
"How long... uhm... how long can I stay here?"
For the first time since Roman's father had come in here Dean looked, really looked at the man and found himself greeted by the picture perfect image of how a father should look, shining with trustworthiness and a fatherly warmth and things Dean didn't even have words for.
"As long as you need to build your own life."
"I... I'll never be able to make up to you for all you're doing for me..."
"That's understood."
"No it's not, I..."
"For us it is. Don't worry too much about it. And Dean? Since you're a part of our family now, call me Sika, okay?"
Dean nodded and whispered a thank you. A smile was the answer. A moment later he was alone in his new room, surrounded by a quietness that was spiced with faint sounds and scents of a world that not even one day ago had seemed so far away and now he was right in the middle of it. Carefully he moved to lie on the comfy bed and closed his eyes to float a bit in this quietness and give his spinning mind a break...
When he'd woken up a while later, he'd found a bowl of still warm cookies on the bedside table and... Roman. Roman had been sitting on the floor with his arms crossed on the mattress and his head resting on them in an awkward angle, snoring softly. There had been no reaction when Dean had called him quietly. But Roman had spent the whole night sitting with him in the hospital, so it wasn't a wonder that he had sleep to catch up, was it? The black mane had been pooling over his shoulders, partly over his face, too, veiling it. Roman hadn't even stirred as Dean reached out to gently wipe a few strands out of the peaceful face. It wasn't often that he got a glimpse on Roman without the other man noticing it and he allowed himself to just gaze at him for a while, for once not trying to figure out what made him tick but to just see him. That was until Roman woke up eventually.
Roman wasn't pretty. Seth was pretty, yeah, but Roman was the classic example of being handsome and what drew Dean in most were his eyes and his lips. Kissable lips. Soft lips most likely. Well, at least they looked soft. And then there was this body. Greek God, right? And Superman. His skin looked so nicely soft, too, and the caramel teint made it look even nicer. And on top of it all there was the man who was wrapped up in this body and...
With a grunt Dean shook his head a little to stop this train of thoughts before it would take a rail that led to a place that was too dangerous to go. It just wasn't good to go there, not now, not yet. Maybe never.
Reaching up, he gingerly felt the battered side of his face, the swelling there and the rough texture of the scab were his skin had been busted open under the impact of the punches. He hadn't taken a look in the mirror ever since he'd woken up at the hospital, had avoided to even glance into the major direction of reflecting surfaces. He felt the damage and this time it was enough to know, at least for today. With a tiny sigh he let his hand sink back down to his lap. He had to admit that knowing that Roman was sleeping in his own bed peacefully, there just across corridor, made him feel a bit lonely over here, being on his own.
The sound of the door to his room being pushed open a bit more whispered through the darkness and although it was barely audible, he heard it, followed by the sound of naked feet on laminate which ended at the bed. For a moment... nothing. Then a quiet rustling. The mattress bounced a little and dipped under extra weight. Shoulder against shoulder, only a light touch. Soft hair, tickling his bare skin where it brushed over it. And warmth.
Dean's nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, inhaling... Superman...
AN: So... Dean has come home :) and we still have a handful of chapters lying ahead. I'll give you a tiny spoiler here if it's a spoiler at all: the next chapter will start out with us being guest in Dean's head again, but then we'll visit Roman.
However... you guys got some words for me?