I wanted to take a quick break from my requests to update this fic. It's still my baby, and it deserves attention as well. Get ready for a plethora of fluff as Christmastime draws nearer for our boys. The action lurks just around the corner and could strike at anytime.. But there still exists a moment or two of peace for our heroes. Enjoy!

"'Who wrote a paper on evolution in 1858 that forced Darwin to present his own theory shortly thereafter? A, Henslow; B, Huxley; C, Malthus, or D, Wallace.'"

"D, Alfred Wallace," Roman answered without much delay.

"Is that your final answer?" Seth asked, grinning over Roman's flash card.

"Final answer."

"That is correct!"

"Man, if only you were doing this for real money," Dean said, untangling a clump of Christmas lights on the floor. "You'd be banking."

"Where did you guys get all these Christmas decorations, anyway?" Roman asked, lifting a small mechanical snowman from the box Seth had immediately stashed away in Roman's storage closet on the porch when he and Dean first moved in.

"My mom," Seth said. "She buys new ones every year, and she usually donates the old. Last year, we were her charity of choice."

Roman's tiny collection of holiday embellishments combined with the massive box from the closet—from Seth's mom, apparently—would provide a full amount of ornamentation for the entire apartment.

Seth took a sip of his warm tea, then moved onto the next flashcard. He and Dean were just as determined as Roman was to get him prepped for the History of Psychology final the next morning. He squinted at Roman's rather tiny, cursive-style handwriting through his glasses. "'In terms of nature and nurture, Galton supported blank, and Candolle supported blank. A, nature and nature; B, nature and nurture; C, nurture and nature; or D, nurture and nurture.'"

"Say that three times fast, Seth, I dare you," Dean said. He wrapped a string of garland loosely around his neck like a scarf.

"Galton supported nature, and Candolle supported nurture. So B. Final answer," Roman stated.

"That is correct!"

Roman unrolled a folded piece of red fabric and found it to be a stocking. Seth's full name and the numbers 1994 were painted in gold down the oversized sock. Beneath the name and year was a tiny handprint, also in gold paint.

"Aww, this is yours, Seth?" he asked, holding up the stocking.

Seth grinned coyly. "Yep, that's mine. Made it when I was four. Kane's might be in there, too."

Sure enough, the next folded stocking that Roman revealed had Kane's name—with a backwards K—painted down the material. It made Roman chuckle to imagine a tiny Seth preparing stockings with his brother, parents watching as amused as ever, perhaps taking pictures and preparing some sort of warm meal afterwards…

Roman blinked, realizing his eyes were dampening, as he perceived Seth was really the only one of the three of them who had a true concept of the word family. Roman got along with his family okay, but they were never too close, even in his childhood. Dean…Dean was an entirely different case on his own. Dean probably never knew what the word meant. That, with the word home.

Would he ever?

"Alright, focus, Ro," Seth said after another drink of tea. "For Calkins, the proper subject matter of psychology was what? A, the self; B, the mind; C, behavior; D, introspective elementals."

Mary Whiton Calkins became the first female president of the American Philosophical Association in 1918. She'd developed progress in research towards dreams, memory, and perhaps the most famous of her contributions, the system of…

"Self-psychology," Roman said.

"Nope. It was B."

"Shut up."

Seth giggled. "Yeah, you're right, sorry. Shouldn't be trying to mess with your mind right before the big test."

"When's your Badass 204 exam?" Dean asked, unwrapping the garland from his neck and draping it over the mantle instead, behind a couple of half-burned candles.

"Not till Tuesday," Roman said, smiling.

"The—what?" Seth asked.

"Inside joke."

"Yeah, so stay out of it," Dean teased.

Seth placed the flash cards on the side table. "That was the last one, Roman. You got every single one of them right. You're gonna nail this test."

"Thanks for helping me study." Roma put the stockings back in the box. They'd reached the bottom of the container, the last of the decorations. He and Dean reached for a twisted pine wreath at the same time. They playfully pulled it back and forth between one another, simulating a fight, when Roman released it and "let" Dean win.

"You wanna move onto your English exam next, or take a break?"

"I'll take a break. Let my mind cool off first."

Roman's wound was itching, a sign of healing. He decided to change the dressing. Surely he wouldn't have to wear the bandage for much longer. His follow-up appointment with Dr. Jericho was on Friday morning, yet he was feeling better even this evening. But he'd heed the doctor's instructions to dodge an infection or any further damaging injuries.

When he stepped out of the bathroom after changing, he watched Dean carefully backed away from the front door after hanging the wreath on it by an adhesive hook. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he analyzed his work like he was an artist.

"Perfect," he said.

"It's a little crooked," Seth noted.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. You can tell by the lines on the door—it's tilted to the right a bit."

"It's not crooked!"

"Yes, it is."

"You're crooked," Dean accused.

"Says who? You?"

Dean smiled as though he was proud of the fact. Roman cracked up at their inane argument. This caused Dean to look back at him.

"Hey, Ro. Is this thing crooked or not?" he asked.

Roman strolled over to them, draping an arm around both their shoulders from between them. He cocked his head far to the side and said, "It's totally straight, don't know what you're talking about, Seth."

Seth cracked up. Dean rolled his eyes.

"You guys are just haters."

It wasn't awkward as the moment dwindled into quietude. The boys simply watched the wreath, whether or not it was crooked. Roman tightened his hold on Seth and Dean both. Dean leaned his head against Roman.

"Let's make this the best damn Christmas ever," Roman said. "What do you guys say?"

"Yeah," Seth agreed. "No more hospital trips."

"No more nightmares." It was an assurance Roman made on his own behalf.

"And definitely, definitely no more Wyatts," Dean said, voice gorged with confidence.

Roman didn't even want to dispute it.

This was family.

This was home.

He was happy.

Rarely did colleges shut down for something like a snow day, especially at the dawn of finals week, so Roman bundled up warmly and stepped into the morning, still chilled to the bone through his sweater and heavy coat, yet dominant in the mind and eager to accept the challenges today would bring.

Dean had given him a best-wishes kiss before he trekked out, claiming there was no such thing as luck in the world. Seth declared Roman didn't even need that. He could kick ass all on his own.

Roman was warm at the thought of his friends. His family. Dean and Seth, his treasure and his world.

Part one of the exam was multiple-choice; part two was the last essay he'd ever have to write for this course, and thank heavens, because this professor was a stickler for essays. Everything had to follow his stringent rubric, and there were hundreds of points made available in each paper, which meant a challenge not to miss a single step and bring one's grade from an A to a C- because of only a couple of things missed. This particular professor assumed himself a man of dominance over his fellow professors simply because he had a Ph.D., and made the students address him as "doctor."

Roman stared down at the essay topic.

"How do psychologists differ from physicists in their examination of stimuli in the environment (as explained by Wundt)?"

It seemed so easy that even after completing the essay in a little under twenty minutes, Roman read over it five or six times to make sure he'd followed every stipulation, or he'd been tricked in any way. And now we wait, he thought as he placed his exam face-down on his professor's desk.

"Thank you, Roman," Doctor Crane said, offering a warm smile. "Have a safe, fun Christmas break."

"Thanks. You too."

And he was free—to move onto his next exam.

His hand was swollen and cramped by the end of that particular session. Literature of the 19th Century required two essays, which the students could choose for themselves in a list of five selections. Luckily these ones didn't have to be nearly as long, and didn't have a million and one specifications. After a painful spell of scribbling words on symbolism and realism, he was truly free to go.

Phones had to be turned off per campus policy during final exams, and Roman found he had a missed call and three text messages when he powered the device back on. The texts were from Seth; the missed call, from Dolph. He decided to call Dolph back first. Anything that was important enough to be described over the phone rather than a message seemed a bit more urgent.

Dolph answered after two rings. "Hey, Romeo."

"Hey, Dolph, how are you?"

"Hanging in there. Feels like it's been forever since I've seen you, man."

"Yeah, it has been a long time," Roman agreed. "What's up?"

"Word's getting through to all our coworkers, and I wanted to make sure you were kept in the loop. Java Central is reopening this Saturday, and we're all scheduled to work. Curtis is having this huge sale, like half-off all coffees or something."

"Oh, that's gonna be a hell of a reopening."

"I know. Can you imagine the business? It's going to be insane. But it'll be over in a flash. And you can invite your boy in for all the mochas he wants. You are still with him, right?"

"I am. He makes me very happy."

"Alright, Roman! My man. 'Bout time you got over that bitch AJ. Oh, sorry to bring her up. Just keep focusing on Dean."

Roman chuckled. Dolph clearly didn't know he'd gotten shot, since he was not panicking nor asking Roman how he was healing. Roman didn't feel it necessary to address now. No sense in making Dolph worry over nothing. "I will, for sure."

"I'll let you go for now, but see you Saturday?"

"See you Saturday, Dolph."

Roman was in the safety of his freezing car by the time he hung up with Dolph and read over Seth's messages.

Got off work early. Turns out nobody likes getting their tires fixed when it's friggin cold outside. :P Was thinking about going and picking up Dean's gift before we run out of time, u down ?

I'm dropping Dean off downtown in a lil. Get this: he's actually looking for job applications to fill out. I told him to wait until the weather cleared but he insisted. Doesn't wanna wait long so he'll have money for Christmas. Don't worry, he'll be fine, and if it's me saying it, u know I'm telling the truth. :P It'll only be an hour or so.

Ur probably still taking ur tests huh? Sorry if I get u kicked out for these. Just dropped Dean off and I'm heading over to Guitar Center. U know where it's at? Over by Olive Garden and that old Blockbuster. Remember when Blockbuster was a thing? Stupid Netflix. Anyway call me when ur out and we can plan something.

Roman liked how he could read each message in Seth's voice, almost like he could hear Seth speaking the words to him in his mind. Seth was something else. He was also glad to see Dean reaching out to get a steady job. He couldn't rely on money he'd stolen from Bray Wyatt forever.

Roman started up the engine and cranked the heater on. He made the call before driving off.

"Hey, Roman."

"Hey, Seth. Busy morning?"

"I've had worse. This weather isn't doing me any favors, though. How were your exams?"

"Long and tiring but they're over."

"Woohoo!" Roman laughed at Seth's excited squeals. "We'll get you all prepped for your next ones tonight. Then we can celebrate the end of the semester with a drink or something."

"That sounds like a plan. Are you at Guitar Center now?"

"Yeah, I'm almost there. Driving about thirty-five on a fifty-five."

"You're talking on the phone while driving? Hang up right now, young man. I'd expect this behavior out of Dean, but not you."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. And I wouldn't expect it out of Dean, anyway, considering he can't drive."

"He can't?"

"I don't know if he's physically unable or if he's just never tried it, or if he doesn't like it or care to learn at all. But I've never witnessed him getting behind the wheel of a vehicle."

"Huh."

"Yeah, another little tidbit about our Dean Ambrose."

"He always manages to surprise me each and every day."

"Shit, someone's fishtailing in front of me. Better go."

"Take it easy," Roman warned him. "I'll meet you up there in about fifteen. Well, might take me a little longer because of the roads."

"Sounds good, Ro."

Roman found an available parking spot near Seth's Camaro and cautiously steered his vehicle to a halt beside it. He darted from the warmth of his car into the small guitar store. Seth was at the counter, speaking to the sales associate. Both of them looked to Roman as he pushed a cold draft into the store with him.

"Hey, Roman, glad you made it."

"Same here. What's going on?"

"Well, Damien here was just showing me some of the bestsellers they have in the store right now."

Roman and Seth were the only customers in the shop, so Damien stuck with them, revealing the best-priced guitars and the store's most popular brands. Neither Seth nor Roman were as concerned about price as they were about quality. They wanted Dean to have a beautiful guitar, not as a replacement for Annie, but as something that could help heal him and disallow him to forget about his dream to be a musician for life or set it aside for a little while.

Roman was a bit indecisive, and Seth was torn between two: a Yamaha FS700S, and a Fender DG-60.

"The Fender looks a little too much like Annie," Roman pointed out. "I wouldn't want him to get upset."

"Yeah, you're right," Seth said with a nod. "You like the Yamaha?" He ran a gentle hand over the body of the acoustic guitar.

"I do. And I'm sure Dean will love it."

"He'll love whatever we get him. I like the color, too." The guitar was a deep reddish-brown as though it had been burnt by fire, fading to a paler brown in the center.

"We call it tobacco sunburst," Damien said.

Seth snickered. "He'll get a kick out of that one. Okay, we'll take this one. Oh," he said, looking to Roman. "We should probably invest in a new case, too. Not sure what…happened to the other one."

"Oh, yeah. That's a good point…"

A brief look at the guitar cases turned into adding a capo, a tuner, a strap with a strap lock, a guitar stand, a set of picks, and a set of cleaning and polishing cloths in addition to the sturdy case Roman chose and, of course, the guitar. The price of the items together combined to roughly a thirty-dollar tax came to $431.62.

"Damn, I'm gonna be paying this off until next Christmas," Roman teased. He knew that wasn't the case. This was why his savings account existed; plus, he never spent money on much anyway, besides groceries and the occasional new shirt and comic from Escape Velocity.

Seth surrendered his credit card to pay half of the total. "This is what Christmas is all about, right? Going broke over your loved ones."

"That is true," Roman had to agree.

Damien was kind and helped Seth settle the new guitar into its new case, then carried some of the bags out to Seth's car. Seth ever so gently set the guitar case in his trunk.

"I'll take all this back home and hide it away in my closet or something," he said. "If you wanna go pick up Dean. Then he won't see anything."

"Good idea."

"Take your time. Be careful. No rush."

Roman grinned. "No worries there. It's nearing rush hour, anyway. Rush hour plus a snowstorm equals severe lack of driving skills."

"Maybe they should consider changing the name from 'rush hour' to something more appropriate."

"We'll discuss that very important issue when we get home. Get out of the cold."

"Fine. You do the same."

It didn't take long for Roman to make it downtown from Guitar Center, even in the storm. He hopped onto Platte Avenue instead of opting for the freeway, which somehow would be even slower than the street that kept at fifty MPH all the way down. He'd let Dean know through a text he was on his way to pick him up. Dean messaged him back requesting a lift in front of Escape Velocity.

Escape Velocity? Really?

Roman pulled up to the little comic book store, wishing he had the time to go inside and talk to Cody and Neville. Dean, dressed up in an oversized black hoodie, scurried into the car. He shook snowflakes out of his long hair and breathed as though tired, "What's up, Ro?" He leaned in for a quick kiss. Dean's lips were freezing against Roman's.

"Nothing much. Trying to make it out here."

Was that Seth's hoodie Dean was wearing? Roman bit back a jealous comment.

"How went the job search?" Roman noticed a lack of applications in Dean's possession.

"It went okay. Got a couple of applications here and there. Lot of people weren't hiring. Some told me to check online, and I'm like, 'Yeah, okay, I'll just grab my Macbook Pro and open it up real fast…'" He shook his head, as though access to a computer was an impossible feat for him. "But, I decided to stop into that store you like so much. Turns out, they are hiring. I filled out an application on the spot and just talked with them for a while. They remembered me from that time I bought you your stuff."

Roman lifted a hand from the steering wheel for a brief moment to fondle his Superman pendant.

"And guess what?"

"Do tell."

"I got an interview!"

Roman gasped. "At Escape Velocity? Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I thought I'd have to be as big of a geek as you to even qualify, but turns out I knew as much as they need me to know. Their big bossman is gonna be in on Friday, so I'm swinging by in the morning for questioning."

"Dean, that's fantastic. I'm actually really jealous of you."

"Yeah, it seems like it'd be your dream job, right? How come you don't work there? You practically lived there before you had to start taking care of me all the time."

"First of all, I'm more than happy to 'take care of you.' Secondly, as much as it can stress me out sometimes—and on occasion, get me shot—" Roman paused to smile, letting Dean know it was all in the past, something he wouldn't get anxious over, "I also love it. Best job I ever had. Well, only job I ever had, but some things made it worthwhile to stick around."

"Like me?" Dean asked, a smile touching his soft lips.

Roman laid a hand on Dean's knee, giving it a rub. "Like you," he answered softly.