Okay, guys, this time it's a rather short chapter because I haven't had much time in the past week but a lot of family probs instead. So, sorry. Would have wanted to give you some more of the boys this week.

However, have fun :)

He shouldn't have looked. He just... he should have tried not to do it but that goddamn mirror tile had practically called him to fucking gaze right at what he didn't want to see. He'd known it wouldn't be a pretty sight because he fucking felt that this time it had been worse than all those times before but... this... He couldn't look away. Wanted to... but couldn't...

Involuntary he held his left arm closer to his body as the throbbing in his sore shoulder got stronger. Slowly he lifted his right hand up to his face, the tips of his fingers hovering just above over the badly bruised left side of his face which looked like... he didn't even have a word for it. He didn't want to think about it too much. Huh, yeah, sure. Not thinking too much...

Although standing under the still running warm water, he felt cold. Uncomfortable. It was a cold which had been rising all of a sudden from somewhere within him, that damn cold he had felt so often already while lying curled up on the ground when he'd been too exhausted to put up a fight against it. Its chill was twisting all the way through to his core, every single time, until that moment would come when the cold felt like warmth. When his body stopped fighting it, gave in and his wailing mind started to feel at home in that cold, wrapped up and secure, while he drifted off and into a peaceful oblivion. This now, it was some kind of an aftermath. Had to be. All those years he had been running and fighting and now it all had stopped. Finally he had found a little piece of a heal and happy world and he had stopped running. But his past was catching up now and he should have known it. It was like he was opening his eyes after years of keeping them screwed shut.

Fighting, always fighting and stubbornly going forward without losing a thought about surrender. Fighting until that day comes when fighting isn't necessary anymore and with it comes the moment when you realize that you've run out of strength a long while ago and the toughing it all out has been sheer will, now taking its toll.

It had been a close call this time because if Roman hadn't shown up... the motherfucker would have returned for a second round. Dean was sure he would have... because he always had. And maybe this time he wouldn't have gotten out of this alive...

Don't even go there.

But it was too late... something inside him cracked under the cold, something that was worn-out and as battered as his body, something that had taken too much damage over all the years and it flooded him with an anxiety that put freezing fingers around his chest, making it hard to even take the shallowest of breathes.

Ro.

He wasn't sure if his lips were actually forming the name or not but it was loud in his head, called out to be heard and he tasted it on his tongue in the pathetic wish Roman would be here now and chase it away, this goddamn, fucking cold and smothering anxiety.

Ro...!

Desperate almost, this single word as he called out again. Had it passed his lips? Or had it only been in his head? Again he wasn't sure but... did it matter?

The here and now returned to him with a clash as the shower was being turned off, causing him to flinch hard. Blue met grey through the mirror tile and the realization that Roman must have been watching him hit him like a blow. And now that Roman was here, Dean wished he wouldn't be. Not able to break his gaze away, he tried hard to remember how to breathe at all. His heart was suddenly hammering against his chest, stealing the last bit of air away he'd drawn in against the grip of this bloody anxiety.

He couldn't file the expression he found on the other man's face. Grave? What if Roman's name had left his lips? How should he explain? Tell him the truth? That he would have wished that Roman had been here to just wrap those big arms around him and fend the bad things off? No... he couldn't... fucking couldn't...

"Dean?"

Almost a whisper. Warm. A touch on his back, gentle and soothing, always so damn soothing and as he turned around, the hand stayed on his body, sliding over his slick skin only to come to rest on the spot just above his heart. He wanted to step out of the shower. He couldn't. Without doing anything but being there, this hand stopped him. Nothing that Roman did for and to him, neither the physical nor the emotional things, were bad. It all was good but this man managed to unhinge him completely and sometimes all it took was single, innocent touch like this one now. His heart had been hammering before, but now it felt as if it wanted to reach Roman's hand. And Roman felt it, too. Dean could see it from the corner of his eye, the subtle change in the grave expression.

All it would take now was to turn around a little more and lean forward, right into those arms...

Closing his eyes, he drew a stuttering breath and willed his heart to stop this absurd riot it put up. It didn't listen to him though, kept pounding traitorously. Fingers splayed on his chest. He could feel the hair on his arms raise while a funny feeling settled in his belly.

"You okay?"

The low voice was coated thickly with concern once more. He didn't gaze over to Roman as he opened his eyes again and moved to leave the shower, leaving the question unanswered. Roman didn't stop him from walking away but the way his hand slipped off of his body was reluctant enough to tell Dean that he'd rather pulled him in instead of letting him go and just like the night before there was this part of Dean that wished Roman would just do it.

Two steps. Three. Before he stopped, his eyes dropping to the floor without really seeing. The grey eyes were resting on him, their intense gaze digging into him, deep, deeper, trying to read him. Reaching out, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as he suddenly felt too aware of his nakedness.

"Dean? Talk to me."

Soft. Begging.

"I... don't know..." he replied just above a whisper.

It was a lie. Yet it was not. His good shoulder twitched slightly in this bloody kind of displacement activity his body betrayed him with so often in moments he couldn't handle well. He heard Roman move and come closer, heard a soft rustling and then... A bathrobe was draped around him from behind and its hood was pulled over his head, slipping deeper and concealing his face as he dipped his head a bit forward. Roman remained behind him, his hands settling on Dean's shoulders.

"You're trembling."

Well, shit... Roman was right. When the fuck had he started to fucking tremble? Why the hell was he trembling at all? The hands smoothed from his shoulders down to his upper arms, stopping there to gently pull him back against the broad chest and he didn't fight it.

"You've bottled up this shit for a much too long time and you need to stop. It doesn't make you less tough and you're sure not weak if you let it out," Roman murmured. "I'll catch you. You know that I will."

Forever? Would Roman do it till the end of time? Because right now it felt like this back and forth was never going to end and he himself was causing it.

Huh, you're tearing my walls down and you're ripping every door open without giving me a chance to ever close it again and you're not even sorry, are you? You're leaving me standing naked here to hide in you because you're the only safe place I know, you goddamn bastard.

The cold... it was still there in him. His right shoulder twitched again and this time more noticeable, provoking an immediate reaction from Roman whose hand smoothed to the front of it, pressing it against the broad chest to still it. He'd wanted Roman to wrap him up in his arms, again and again... but again he'd backed out. And now? Staying where he was? Or rather bring some distance between them?

Make up your fucking mind.

The hood was still hiding his face away from Roman's eyes and he was thankful for it, because there was a burning in his throat... and in his eyes...

Coward.

But Roman was here and Superman was holding his arms wide open, waiting for him. Waiting to catch him.

Trust me. I there for you.

And then Dean moved before he really knew that he was doing it, turning around to Roman, his face still veiled by the hood and while an arm was wrapped around his back tenderly, a hand settled on the back of his head to cradle it as he buried his face in the crook of Roman's neck. Bare skin on bare skin as their chests touched. Warmth, seeping into him, flowing into the cold. That familiar scent, filling his nostrils. His own hands finding their way to soft skin, smoothing over it as his arms circled the thick waist in a hold that was tighter than he wanted to admit. But it was exactly how he needed it to be because it was bringing Roman as close as possible. And it was also like anchoring himself.

Tears... tears were escaping his eyes, even as he tried to stop them by screwing his eyes shut, failing poorly. He didn't want to cry. He fucking hated it, hated how his own body betrayed him. The wetness that spilled from his eyes stained the warm skin he was pressing his face against and he could tell the exact moment Roman noticed it. The arm that was wrapped around him held him just a bit tighter, safer, while the hand on the back of his skull slowly pulled the hood off... before Roman turned head a bit. Cheek against cheek and fingers diving into his damp hair.

"Good," Roman whispered, sending a shiver throughout Dean as he felt his friend's lips brush over his cheek just a wee bit. "That's good. That's just all the tension and the strain that needs an outlet. Nothing to be embarrassed about." Another shiver rushed through him as Roman turned his face even more towards Dean and the touch of his lips on Dean's cheek got firmer in something that wasn't a kiss… but something close to it. "I've got you, Dean."

The warmth fused into the cold, kept seeping into him persistently and it fought the chill back. Dean's breath hitched as a silly little tearstained hiccup collided with a bitter-sweet amused chuckle that wanted out despite the situation.

"You... Jesus, you're a goddamn sap, Ro," he half-snorted.

The funny thing about this was that... that his heart was calming down. The cold was gone, replaced by a vivid and Roman-fed warmth.

The next twisted laughter crawled up his throat, wanting out as he involuntary had to think of their conversation in the rain only a handful of minutes ago, it got stuck as a weird itching in his throat. With allowing Roman to stomp into his life with his ridiculously soft teddy paws he'd practically jumped from said bridge and fuck yes, he could see Superman down there on the ground, waiting to catch him.

If you ever want to know who your friends are, be vulnerable. A dangerous thing to do, being vulnerable in front of someone.

Show them that you need something, something you can't repay them for, something basic and human, something people only willingly and unflinchingly give to people they care about. It shows who you can really count on. True friends are family. And family doesn't have to be blood.

Here he was, suddenly having two friends of that quality. And one of them... they both were family but Roman was... there was... he felt Roman deeper. In a way it was scary... how Roman had dug his way straight into his very core in no time.

And Roman slowed him down. His whole life actually. Had created enough time for Dean to really think of all that had happened, that was happening now and feel. Somehow it also made him feel like moving on a strange kind of ice that forced him to slide his body forward so very carefully, without slipping on it with and every movement, every move being exactly conscious.

He was feeling. Too much sometimes. Sometimes not enough. Like last night...

Roman...

Spending the night in his bed where everything smelled like him, knowing that he is there, only a handbreadth away... huh, and with lifting the duvet and inviting him, Roman had just wiped away any doubt about even considering crawling into bed with him. No feeling silly. Just feeling... calm. He'd started to want Roman in his personal bubble, wanted as much of him as he could get. And when he got all he wanted, he couldn't handle it. Confused was wasn't even fitting how it made him feel. And fuck yes, it was like being on ice.

What do you want?

I don't know.

What do you feel?

I don't know. I feel him. And it scares me.

But if he was honest with himself, the mere thought of not feeling Roman scared him more.

Get a fucking grip on yourself, Ambrose!

Going from a shocked waking up to a calming holding hands with Roman to the next shock because of realizing that he looked like minced meat to dwelling in an emotional back and forth again because of Roman and why the fuck was his fucking self-control slipping from his fingers like he'd never really had a grip on it?

Fuck being so pathetic and... and...

Fuck this...!

Round and round. Back and forth. Over and over again. He needed to stop, really needed to before he lost his way in his own head.

"Okay, think we should change the band-aid on your forehead now," Roman murmured after another few seconds, reluctantly letting go of Dean who, now that he had his arms around the firm body, did not want to let go.

There was a lot going on behind the grey eyes, too, Dean noticed as he caught a glimpse on Roman's face before his friend turned away to walk over to the cabinet. Although things were getting better, they weren't getting easier. Time and patience, huh? With a sigh he walked over to the tub and sat on its rim, watching Roman fetch some stuff from the cabinet before coming over and kneeling down in front of him, lifting a hand to the plaster on Dean's forehead.

Roman's eyes narrowed a little as he tried to peel the plaster off as painless as possible, his brows furrowing and the tip of his tongue peeking out in corner of his mouth... and it drew Dean's attention, caused his eyes to drop to said tongue momentarily. Those lush lips were slightly parted, too.

"Does it hurt?" he heard Roman ask.

Locking gazes again he mumbled: "Wutt?"

"I asked if it hurts. For a moment you looked as if it does."

"I, uhm... no, 's okay," Dean replied, although it actually did hurt a little.

What Roman had noticed had probably only been a facial derailment due to being distracted by that tongue and those lips. A nod from Roman before the fingers went back doing their careful work and eventually the plaster was off. The wince on the other man's face didn't go unnoticed, shouldn't be there although Dean knew that there was no fucking chance that there was a parallel universe in which Roman would not have winced.

Always worried teddy bear. Always caring and always gentle. Always providing a precious little cosmos of good things. Always there...

Dean smiled a little in an attempt to show Roman that everything was okay, openly disregarding the fact that they both knew that it was not okay. Not yet, rather would be eventually. If he wasn't going to get himself killed by thinking too much.

Roman tilted his head a bit to the side, his eyes wandering over Dean's face while a feather light touch trailed down his bruised cheek, just like it had been in the rain. A sigh was breathed, the toothpaste flavored warmth fanning over his face, before Roman resumed his task on his forehead.

Sitting in the warm summer rain had worked purifying, at least for a little while. Even more after waking up with a start and spending a full minute with sitting paralyzed in the bed without really understanding where he actually was, because for that minute his brain tried to convince him that he was still at the old apartment. A not so nice way to wake up after hours of peaceful sleep. In the end it had been his name being mumbled and a knee that bumped against his thigh as Roman bent his leg in his sleep which had shaken him out of the confused inability to move even a finger. He'd spent another full minute of just gazing at a still fast asleep Roman at point-blank range, bracing on his left arm, a fact that his sore shoulder thanked him by hurting like bitch but the moment had been too perfect to let it pass by, while fighting the urge to touch him.

It was still a pretty one sided thing though, the touches. Roman touched him all the time, sometimes more, sometimes less, always mindful of any kind of discomfort he might cause with doing so and it was okay for him, Roman's constant seeking contact. A big step forward given that not even three weeks ago he had avoided any kind of touch or whatever, had shied away from it. And now? Not that he didn't feel that urge to touch him, just like this morning after waking up, yet it still was difficult. Roman was patiently waiting for him to return some of the affection, Dean could see it every time he was the one seeking contact, just like a few minutes ago. Like holding on to him in the apartment and fuck, it still sent a shiver down his spine how Roman had buried his face in the crook of his neck.

And this kind of holding hands. Last night in his bed or in the rain. Yeah, the rain… there the urge had won, had made him draw that S on the broad chest. Had made him lay his hand on the thick thigh. They had been sitting so close and somehow the air between them had been humming with... it, whatever it was and for that moment Dean's poor confused heart had been beating in that strange rhythm again which only Roman caused in him.

Out there while the world had been nothing but a glimpse through the liquid veil that had been falling down on them he'd wished Roman would just have… kissed… him…

Maybe the question wasn't what he wanted but how he wanted Roman.

And maybe the answer to this was more obvious than it was good.

Bloody... damn shit... Wrong rail his mind was going here again. Too late though. This train of thoughts had already come too far here to go back just like that.

His name being said hushed shook him out of his headspace. Hands settling on his face, framing it. A question was written in the features of the handsome face that was framed by a veil of black velvet. Grey. Grey eyes. Close. Beautiful. Kissable lips, parting just a bit.

"Huh…?" he breathed, unable to think straight, too caught up in the sight in front of him and… the still lingering wish to get a taste of those lips…

"I said you're all patched up again," Roman smiled, his brows rising to his hairline in slight amusement. "Where are you?"

Confused, Dean muttered: "What? Uhm... here?"

Soft chuckling.

"No, you're not. You didn't even hear me. I swear the day will come that your head explodes because you're thinking too much." Another sigh as Roman ran his thumb over Dean's good cheek, his beautiful eyes softening. The smile was still there but its quality was different now. Deeper. Richer. And something else, something Dean wanted all to himself, now that he saw it. "Give yourself a rest, Han Solo."

"Did the first step, didn't I? Letting it out instead of bottling it up?" he mumbled, a small smile of his own ghosting on his lips as he hesitantly lifted a hand to tuck a black strand behind Roman's ear.

Yup, he could do it. Touch Roman. Could, was allowed to and yes, he wanted to. Actually, Roman wanted him to do it, too. There, he could see it, it was written all over Roman's face again. And so he just did it, wiping the strand out of the other man's face, tucking it back and as he drew his hand back, he let the black velvet glide through his fingers. He liked the feeling, really. And it hadn't been that hard, too, right?

Roman was coming closer somehow… or was he himself leaning in? Maybe both… their forehead touched lightly… and Dean's heart did a tiny flip in his chest.

"Okay then, I'm gonna grab a quick shower," Roman murmured, averting his gaze as he took his hands off of Dean's face, the loss of contact causing the oh so small smile on Dean's lips to drop. "I think I heard mom come back, so if you want, you can go down for breakfast."

With that Roman straightened up and stored the ointment and plasters away in the bathroom cabinet. Dean's eyes stayed fixed on his friend while he pondered if he should go down or...

"Uh, I think I'll wait for you," Dean mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"The worst thing that can happen is that she'll hug you, you know?" Roman laughed softly.

"I know, it's just... uh..." Dean began hushed, trying to come up with a good reason why he wanted to wait for Roman, failing poorly though.

Yeah, it's just... what? The idea of joining mommy Reigns in the kitchen without Roman somehow made him feel uncomfortable. No, uncomfortable wasn't the right word. More... awkward. It wasn't because of mommy Reigns but the whole situation. It was his first breakfast in this house, the first meal he would be having here as a part of this family and... it was okay to feel awkward, right? Walking about the house and sticking his nose in kitchen cabinets and stuff as if it was the most normal thing in the world... the idea that it was okay to do it was still alien to him...

Why couldn't he just admit that?

And once more Roman saved him from himself as he said reassuringly: "Dean... 's okay. Stop thinking everything to death, will ya? If you want to wait until I'm done, then it's okay. You don't need to explain yourself."

Ducking his head in slight embarrassment, Dean mumbled: "Can I, uh... can I, you know, wait here?"

"Sure. I'll hurry."

Not leaving his place on the rim of the tub, Dean breathed a sigh that got stuck in his throat as Roman began to... strip. Not that it was a surprise that Roman actually lost is clothes before taking a shower yet... he'd only been wearing a pair of sweatpants but those slid down built and nicely shaped legs now, followed by a pair of boxers and...

... fucking Greek god of hotness...

He was staring. He knew he was. He could not not. Roman... was standing there in all his naked glory and fuck yes, this was glory indeed. It was the picture fucking perfect sight of... unf... because everything was well-built on this man. Bulging muscles, the big frame being a nicely shaped V that led from those broad shoulders down to a glorious booty and it all was wrapped up in soft, caramel toned skin, together with that handsome face and the black velvet mane... and... for a brief moment Dean's gaze dropped to that place. Yup. Yes. Everything was well-built. No exception there.

Holy mother of freaking...

Quickly dropping his gaze to the floor that was pleasantly unsexy, Dean swallowed hard and shifted a bit as sitting became a little... difficult.

Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck...

The fuck he was going to embarrass himself this way. This should not be happening at all.

… water, cascading down a sculpted back… flowing over a nicely round and firm ass… muscles stretching, flexing under smooth skin…

… and when the fuck had he even looked back up?! Cursing under his breath he tugged at the bathrobe to hide the evidence, because the fucking towel didn't hide anything here. Bipolar, much? Going from crying to sporting a wood in record time. Well, admittedly he'd had worse problems than that in the past, but really, not what he needed right now. Would have been a good idea to get up and to his room to get dressed, right? Yup. But, nope, his body seemed to rather stay here.

And then Dean pulled the bathrobe a bit tighter around himself, just to be sure… as Roman turned around to him under the shower, shooting him a crooked little smile before closing his eyes and tilting his head back a tad to rinse his hair. Lush lips parted a wee bit, the handsome features relaxed. The big hands smoothed over the broad chest…

Bastard.

Floor tiles. Looking down to the floor tiles instead of Roman was a good idea. Yes, the floor tiles were safe. And his own feet. Nice feet, but nothing sexy about them. Feet and tiles... and there was a bath mat... and feet, not his own though, there on that bath mat. Calves, nicely shaped and glistening wet, leading up to...

Nope.

"Okay then, let's get dressed. I'm sure mom's already waiting for us," he heard Roman say while he kept his eyes fixed on the bath mat and his friend's feet. Stubbornly not looking up, he watched the little dance Roman did while towelling himself off nevertheless. Stretching, bowing, rubbing... "Earth to Captain Solo?"

"Huh?" Dean breathed.

The critical areas of Superman's body vanished behind a big towel. A towel that was riding dangerously low on Roman's hips.

"You're thinking too much again, dude," Roman sighed, shaking his head lightly as he came walking over to Dean. "Stop that and move that cute li'l butt of yours, breakfast's waiting and I'm starving."

Moving? Not a good idea right now...

"Yeah, in a minute," he frowned. "Need to take a piss."

"Okay then, I'm gonna wait in my room."

And then Dean was alone in the bathroom and for a handful of seconds he remained right where he was, his eyes sweeping over to the shower. Then to the door. Back to the shower. To his bathrobe covered problem. Muttering a fuck he got up to lock the door, the bathrobe slipping from his shoulders and the towel dropping to the floor on the way, before his feet carried him over to the shower.

The tiles were cool against his back as he leaned against the wall while closing his eyes, his right hand finding to his cock to set for a a steady and slow stroking that got quicker soon as his mind wrapped around the image of Roman, engulfed in swirling steam. Slick skin, hot... and pleasing to the touch... and he could almost feel it... With a stifled moan he dipped his head back against the wall as heat pumped through his veins, his blood buzzing in his ears as his heart began to run, as his chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker... and the images in his head kept pushing him further and further...

Ro...

Within a ridiculously short time he felt the heat coil up in his stomach and the familiar tightening of his balls. A low, stuttering groan fell from his lips as he slipped over the edge... a groan that was carrying a twisted version of Roman's name.

Cracking his eyes open, he fixed his gaze on the ceiling without really seeing. His breathing sounded cut off and sharp in the small room of the shower stall as he tried to catch his breath... and think straight again.

He'd just jerked off in the shower of his best friend... while thinking of his best friend...

"Fuck," he panted, rolling his head against the wall. "Fuck..."

Well, I guess this chapter can't draw level with the last ones but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless :3

As always, am curious about your thoughts ;)