Hey, guys! For those of you who weren't aware of this, I started a new job this week, and it's kept me from writing a lot. D: But I'm back again, and I hope the length of this chapter makes up for my brief absence. It's got a lot of fluff, a lot of character interaction, a lot of warmth and fuzzy feels...but enjoy it while it lasts...for the action shall return soon. Till then...enjoy. :)
Roman was healing nicely. The doctor could find no evidence of complications in the remedial process, although he warned Roman scarring was a strong possibility. Roman wasn't concerned by that. Perhaps the mended lesion would make him look badass, function as an inkless tattoo, an emblem to demonstrate just how much he'd been through in his young life, and how he wasn't close to done living through it.
His appointment was over even before Dean's interview started at Escape Velocity, which Seth transported him to so Roman wouldn't risk being late for his Microbiology exam. The timing was perfect; it gave Roman a good hour or two at home by himself, where he concentrated on Dean's second—and third—and fourth—Christmas presents.
Annie, or what was left of her, hadn't been thrown away. Instead Seth had harvested her broken carcass and placed the shards in a trash bag, tying it in a knot and hiding it away in the storage closet until Dean was ready to give her up. Thanks to Roman's plan, he'd never have to. She wasn't going to go to waste. She'd be with Dean in various forms now.
One of Roman's gift ideas was knifing out a piece of Annie's body and carving it into the shape of a guitar pick, something Dean could use with his other picks on the new instrument. Trying to form the shape of a pick was more difficult than Roman first guessed. He used his pocket knife three or four times to fashion the perfect pick, but it refused to come out right. Realizing perfection was impossible, and understanding Dean would probably appreciate the pick no matter how it looked—and perhaps appreciate all the more that it was imperfect, just like Roman, just like himself—his fifth and final attempt cutting a pick out of the wood looked more like an arrowhead. Dean would love it.
Roman tucked the pick away in a desk drawer, beneath a stack of papers that surely Dean wouldn't sift through in his own strange curiosity. His other ideas would take more time, more effort, a bit more creativity and just the right tools. He'd have to work on those later, past the hour of his test, finding another time when Dean wasn't home.
The weather was merciful today, cold but a lack of snow in the air. He drove himself to campus for his only test of the day, his final final exam. Easy, mundane yet painless. Questions like "Which of the following microorganisms are not matched correctly with the appropriate isolation media?" and "Which of the following is not true concerning Staphylococcus aureus?" didn't intimidate him. He placed the exam face-down on his professor's desk and pushed out of the classroom, proud of himself. Another semester down. It hadn't been easy.
In fact, how complicated it had been, in ways that didn't even relate to school.
Roman stopped by the University Center for a cup of coffee from the cafe on the first floor. It didn't taste nearly as good as anything he sold at Java Central, but it was his cheapest option in the vicinity. He waited in a ridiculously slow line and received his order a little over fifteen minutes later. Every student on campus was taking advantage of the last day the cafe would be open.
"Yo, Reigns."
Roman turned around, steaming cup in hand, and caught Randy sitting at a corner table, bulky textbook open in front of him, tiny table holding the book as well as his own cup of joe. He waved Roman over.
"Hey," Roman said, pleased to see Randy again. Every day without him felt lonely, the more he thought about it. "How's it going?"
"Just getting ready for Internet Marketing. Can't wait to be done with this class, bro. It's so friggin' boring."
"Sounds boring," Roman agreed, smiling. Especially for Randy. Internet Marketing seemed like a bold choice on his part.
"Have a seat, dude." Randy gestured to the empty chair across from him. "It's been a while. How's your neck?"
Instinctively Roman's hand moved to the area, but without a bandage, he didn't want to pass on any germs or undo any healing procedures with too much touch. "It's alright."
"Looks a little better," Randy said, though he might have been lying. The area was still blotchy, evidence of an abrasion perceptible. The better it got, the more it itched, and it took a miraculous sense of self-control for Roman not to tear at it with his growing fingernails. "You don't look like a wounded soldier from the 40's anymore, with that huge piece of gauze taped to your neck."
"Think it makes me look pretty tough."
"Of course it does!" Randy agreed. "If anyone asks you about it, just tell them they should see the other guy." Randy laughed. It quieted to a more somber matter, one he'd inadvertently touched upon with his words. "How's home life? Everything…okay there?"
"Yeah. Things are okay. Safe, at least they have been. Dean said he's got someone on the case, after the guys who've been targeting him, so."
"Any progress there?"
"Not sure. I haven't heard from the guy. If Dean has, he hasn't said anything to me." It would be both unlike Dean to keep Roman updated on his uncle's "investigation", whatever it consisted of, unless Dean was sure the job was done, the trouble over. Even then, that would just be a lucky guess.
"Who is it? Private detective or something?"
"Nah. Dean hates cops. Apparently it's a family member who knows what he's doing. Can't do much except wait and see what happens next."
"Kinda nerve-wracking, if you ask me."
"Yeah." Roman couldn't have agreed more, though lately with how peaceful the days had passed, without a call or even a trace of the Wyatts still around, it had been easier and easier to believe that Dean had finally managed to handle them, whether directly or indirectly.
"How is he?"
"Dean?"
"No, the other crazy guy you're dating."
Roman smirked. "He's doing well. He actually has a potential job at Escape Velocity."
"Where?"
Roman sipped his coffee. Black, bitter, sugar free. Just how he liked it. "The comic book store."
"Oh yeah, your home away from home. That's pretty cool. Hope he gets it. Seems like he needs to find some form of normalcy in his life."
"He does," Roman concurred.
"Hey, if things have been kinda quiet for a while, mind if I swing by tonight after my tests? I have something for you."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. Maybe I should have counted on seeing you here today, but I didn't think about it. Finals have been stressing me to the max. But yeah, I wanted to give it to you before I left tomorrow."
"Ah. Going home for the holidays?"
"Yep. Not coming back until January third or so. Wanna stay for New Year's, now that I can. Made a lot of sacrifices to get that much time off work, but I miss my family. Wanna see them for longer than a week this time."
"I understand. Sure, come on by if you want. I'll let Seth and Dean know. Maybe we can whip up something fancy for dinner."
"Define 'fancy.'"
"What about roasted chicken with potatoes and butternut squash?"
Randy's hand froze on its way to pour more coffee into his mouth from the cup in hand. "Damn, that does sound fancy," he laughed.
"Seth made it last night. We have a lot leftover."
"Leftovers, frozen dinner, something hot from the oven. As long as it's food, I don't care. I'm there."
"Alright, sounds good."
"I'll see you tonight, buddy."
Roman took the subtle, polite hint to leave Randy be for now, to let him study. Or, stare at the pages of his textbook helplessly, blank expression, until he thought he had enough (falsely) figured out to squeak by on the exam with a C-.
He had a text waiting for him after the conversation. GOT THE JOB! dancing on the street. not really but i totally could if i wanted to. seth had to go to work but ill wait downtown for my ride. wish i had my fucking guitar so i could earn some tips. maybe someone i know will be playing on the corner. i dont have money anymore so ill tip with a hug or something.
Roman had two things to say in response to Dean's message: Be careful love. I'll see you soon.
He ended up driving past Dean, who was sure enough conversing with a street musician on the corner of a busy intersection. Roman pulled to the side of the road, not intending to pay for a sixty-second-long parking job. Dean caught his eyes, offered the musician a fist-bump, then loped towards the Civic.
"What's good, Ro?" Dean asked.
"Done with my college semester," Roman said.
"Woo!" Dean threw his arms in the air. "Good day all around. Let's go get lunch to celebrate. You're buying."
"Whoa, whoa, why am I buying?" Roman teased, watching Dean saunter around the car. He would have anyway, even if Dean had money.
"I told you, I'm broke as a joke now." Dean and Roman pulled the car doors shut behind them, and Roman waited patiently for the light behind him to turn red, blocking cars from his way to merge.
"What happened to all the money you stole from Bray Wyatt? Gone already?"
"Yeah, between paying my uncle for his job and the lease break from the old place, and rent I owe Seth who owes you, I'm kind of lost financially. For the first time in about a year. I'm used to having little to no money all the time, but right now, that won't do me much good. It's Christmastime. I needed a job. I need to buy presents."
"You don't need to buy presents for anyone, but I'm really happy that you got the job at Escape Velocity."
"Oh, me too. The interview was fucking cake. As someone who's never worked a day in his life—well, America's definition of 'work', anyway—I think I did pretty okay with them."
"You've never had a job before?"
"Well." Dean's fingers drummed on his knees. Roman noticed small holes developing in each of them. Were those the only jeans he owned? Add something else to his gift list, he told himself. "I worked at a Taco Bell back in Cali for a couple months, but it sucked ass. Place was sketchy. Owner was a meth addict. Didn't work out for me. Left that part off my application, out of the interview."
"Guess I don't blame you. When do you start?"
"Monday. First paycheck should come two days before Christmas. Won't be big, but it's something. Guess I'll just make Seth buy all your presents from me, and then I'll pay him back when I have the cash."
"Like I said, you don't have to get me anything."
"Like I said, bite me and let me treat you, alright? I love you, and you deserve a damn good present from me. First Christmas as boyfriend and…boyfriend. You deserve it. Especially with all the shit you put up with around me."
Each word was a candle lit against Roman's heart. He was melting in his seat. "I love you, Ambrose."
"Love you too, Romie Ro."
"Where do you want to get lunch?"
They settled on a burger place close to home. Roman didn't want to fill up too much just yet, with Randy planning on coming for dinner. When Roman informed Dean they'd be having a guest, Dean insisted on tidying up again as a favor to both Roman and Randy. It wasn't baffling, how messy the place could get with three guys living in such a cramped environment, no matter how neat each guy was.
Seth closed at work, so he wasn't home before there was a knock on the door. Roman tugged the door open, leaving Dean in the kitchen to tend to the heating leftovers. Randy, bundled up warm against the brisk early night winds, cleared his throat.
"It's the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, be of good cheer—"
Roman cracked up, unable to help himself. Randy Orton was caroling to him.
Randy broke out of the song and said, "Shut up, this is super serious, Roman. I worked up a lot of courage to do this for you."
"Okay. Go ahead," Roman said, biting down on his still smiling lips to keep from giggling.
Randy sighed and continued, smiling on his own through it all. "It's the most wonderful time of the year. It's the hap-happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. It's the hap-happiest season of all. There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and caroling out in the snow." His voice picked up speed, hurrying through the lyrics as a gust of wind smacked his face. "There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago…okay, let me in, I'm freezing my ass off."
Roman clapped, laughing, holding the door open for his old roommate. "That was beautiful, Randy. Wish you'd let me record it."
"The hell you would have. I'd have made you eat that phone before you managed to post anything online."
"I wouldn't have posted it online." Roman pressed the door closed, locking it securely.
"Don't lie to me." Randy snickered. His head turned like that of an owl as he studied his somewhat unfamiliar surroundings. "Wow, you got the place all decorated up. Looks nice. Forgot we had all that shit."
Dean greeted Randy in the kitchen. "Welcome back. Good to see you."
"Hey, Dean. Glad to see you're doing well."
"Oh, I'm excellent. And may I say, you have an excellent singing voice."
"Well, thanks. So do you, from what I've heard."
"I'll let you hear a song sometime. As soon as I'm no longer sans guitar."
"Maybe someday," Roman said. He was squealing on the inside from how anxious and excited he was to hand Dean's new guitar over to him on Christmas morning. The wait was torture.
"Yeah, of course someday. Tomorrow might be one of my first trips to J/C without a guitar case in hand."
"J/C? It's open again?" Randy looked to Roman for confirmation.
"Grand reopening is tomorrow. You should swing by."
Randy pulled air through his teeth. "Wish I could, but my flight's in the morning. That's why I wanted to see you tonight. Oh! Yeah, and to give you this." He shook his black coat off, flinging it towards the front door. Underneath the thick fabric was a neatly-wrapped golden gift.
"Wow, you did this yourself?" Roman asked, admiring his wrapping skills. He sucked at the task.
"Yeah. One of my weird-ass random skills. I'm a great wrapper."
"But are you a great rapper?" Dean queried. "That's the important question."
Randy scoffed. "Hell no. I can rhyme like a boss, but I ain't Eminem over here. The fat cat sat on the mat."
"Word," Roman laughed.
A buzz filled the quiet kitchen. Dean reached for his phone, the device responsible for the noise. He blinked at the screen, as if learning some intriguing information—or, was about to. "Hold up," he said, an Ambrose's way of saying excuse me. He disappeared into Roman's bedroom and shut the door behind him.
Roman, not bothering to question him about it quite yet, peeled back the wrapping paper. The box beneath the paper gave no indication as to what was inside. It took prying the cardboard parcel open to reveal the gift. A replica Captain America jacket swathed in shrink wrap. Roman's mouth dropped open as he lifted the bundled—and most likely costly—attire.
"You like it?" Randy asked.
"I do!" Roman said, wringing his fingers through the plastic to open up the jacket in full.
"I didn't know how much you liked Captain America. I knew you're a Marvel guy, so this really isn't going wrong."
"Not at all. This is awesome." Roman unfolded the material and held it against his chest. It would look great on him. "Thanks."
"Sure thing, buddy. Merry Christmas and all that."
"Your present will be here…when you get back," Roman said, grimacing. How come I haven't gotten him anything yet? I suck as a friend to, like, one of my only friends in the world.
"I'll gladly take it whenever, Roman. I'm in no rush."
Roman unzipped the synthetic leather jacket and pulled it on. It was a good fit, perhaps a bit snug but only because of the size of his muscles. It wasn't uncomfortable or too tight.
"Lookin' good, stud," Randy praised. "Now you're officially the most badass geek in the universe. And beyond."
"Beyond the universe? Scary thing to think about."
Dean returned from the bedroom with an untroubled face.
"Everything good?" Roman asked.
"Yeah. That was my uncle. He said he had a 'solid lead' on the Wyatts."
"That sounds good to me. Anything else?"
"He couldn't say much. Told me to watch my ass, and for you to watch yours. Just in case."
"When do I ever not?"
"Exactly. I said you, me, and Seth take pretty good care of each other. Ain't nothing else happening to us, that's for true."
"Every time you say that, something else happens. So let's just believe it without speaking any contradictions into the universe."
Dean's eyes lifted to the ceiling. "Suck my ass, universe, and side with me for once. No more Wyatts. No more bullshit."
"You tell the universe to suck your ass, then to back you up in life?" Randy asked. "Universe has a conflict of interest going on."
"I decide for myself what's out there for me. Whatever happens, happens if I allow it to or not."
Randy sniped Roman with a bemused look, one Roman perhaps exhibited several times in his first few interactions with Dean Ambrose. Roman dismissed it with the shrug of one shoulder.
"That's a sick jacket, Ro," Dean said, disbanding the uneasy instant.
Roman beamed, and flexed his arms in the material. "Thanks. Randy got it for me."
"Christmas gift," Randy said, stating the obvious.
"Oh." Dean pursed his lips, eyes darting back and forth from Roman—specifically the jacket—to Randy. Aww, is he jealous? Roman wondered inwardly.
"Show him what I got you," Dean urged.
Think he is. Roman held up the watch on his right wrist and upheld the Superman pendent in his left hand. "He got me these."
"Nice," Randy said.
"Just because," Dean mentioned.
"Oh, yeah, Superman is your favorite, huh? Give me the jacket back and I'll return it for that guy."
"Nah, he looks good in that one," Dean interjected, stepping to Roman's side as though the motion was unintentional. "Good gift, Randy." He clapped his hands together. "So. Let's eat."
"Smells delicious," Randy stated.
"We're not gonna wait for Seth?" Roman inquired.
"He's a big boy," Dean answered. "He can figure out how to heat up his own food using the microwave."
Roman, Dean and Randy ate the leftover potatoes, chicken and vegetables in the living room in front of an episode of Family Feud. It was the only thing that sounded semi-interesting to watch during the meal after Dean and Randy both scoffed at Roman's suggestion of Jeopardy!
"Name something a man might refer to as his baby," the host read.
"His car," Randy and Roman said in unison.
"His guitar," Dean said. Roman was surprised at the answer, and a little pained on Dean's behalf. "Won't be up there, but that's what I'd say."
Car was the number one answer, followed by wife in second and motorcycle as answer number four.
"What about his actual baby?" Randy asked. "Like, his son or daughter."
"That's taking it way too literally, man," Dean said.
Yet after a woman correctly guessed "pet" as an answer, the next contestant suggested "his actual child", and the answer appeared as the final answer on the board. Randy laughed at the fact he'd been right, and Dean swatted at his arm.
"It was still last," Dean pointed out.
"Was still up there. Not like yours was."
"I said mine wouldn't be up there. My guitar was my baby."
Randy clicked his tongue. "Yeah. I bet she was. I'm sorry about that, by the way."
"It's all good," Dean said without smiling.
During the commercial break, the doorknob jiggled as a key twisted inside it. Seth pushed the door open and trudged inside, muffled in a large coat and scarf.
"Hi, honey, welcome home!" Dean called.
"How was work?" Roman asked.
Seth disrobed of his winter attire, hanging up the coat and scarf in the closet and setting his wet, dirty boots on the floor. Roman could very much appreciate how orderly he was. He even hung up Randy's coat without fully registering Randy's presence initially.
"We were slammed. First day without snow in a while, so half of Colorado woke up and realized they probably need stronger tires to make it through the winter. Got out forty-five minutes after we were supposed to close, and took us forever to close as usual."
"There's some lukewarm food waiting for you on the stove."
"Wow, you didn't have a hot meal waiting for me when I came home nearly an hour later? Rude." Seth went to his room first to change from his dirty work clothes to a pair of sweats, Chicago Bears pullover hoodie, and thick socks. He also removed his contacts and wore his glasses in place of them. He looked cozier now, more comfortable, far warmer. Adorable.
Seth made himself a plate, then acknowledged Randy at last in the living room with a fist bump. "Hey, Randy, good to see you again."
"What's going on?" Randy asked.
"Same old, same old. Working hard and trying to keep myself alive."
"Taking life day by day?"
"That's a good way to start."
The show returned.
"Fill in the black," Steve Harvey said to the waiting contestants. "Most people who live in Beverly Hills have a really big what?"
"Dick!" Dean shouted over the ring of the faster contestant's button.
Roman nearly choked on his water. "Seriously?"
"Nah, that can't be true," Randy said. "'That's why they have to have big houses, big cars, a ton of money. Compensate for their tiny dicks."
"You implying that everyone who's rich has a tiny penis?"
"Why the fuck is this conversation going on in my house?" Roman blurted, howling laughter. "Too much testosterone in this room to be talking about dicks."
"Actually, how much testosterone is in the room justifies talking about dicks," Dean said. "Since, y'know, that steroid hormone is produced in the testes."
"Look at you, Anatomy pro," Randy said.
"Sixth grade health, actually. Anatomy sounds way too complicated for this bloke."
"I hear that."
"You know what I can't hear? The real answers to this question," Seth said, shaking his head, mane swaying in the progress.
Dean and Randy muffled their childish snickering. "Bank account", "house", and "car" had made it onto the board as top answers. When one competitor guessed "airplane", Dean hurled a piece of chicken at the TV.
"Way to blow it for your whole family with that stupid answer," he said. "Your answer was bad and you should feel bad."
Sure enough, the answer was rejected, and the host moved onto the next family. They answered correctly to win the game.
Roman picked up dishes and delivered them to the sink during the Fast Money. Seth offered to help while Dean and Randy remained on the couch. He could still hear the TV—and Dean's given answers—over the streaming sink.
"Tell me the age when a kid might try to sneak into an R-rated movie."
"Nine. That was my first attempt."
"Name something you need to play 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey.'"
"An ass."
"Name a command you'd hear in a military parade."
"'Put your clothes back on, private! The fuck are you doing?!'"
"Name something you take to the beach that might blow away."
"My blow-up doll."
"Name something a cowboy wears that's made of leather."
"Corset."
"That didn't even make sense," Randy stated.
"Were any of mine supposed to?"
Roman had to drop to his knees and put his head against the counter as he laughed at Dean's insanity, lest he collapse onto the kitchen floor and crack his head open on the tile.
"Surprised none of yours were the number one answer, Ambrose," Seth said at the end of the episode.
"Seriously!" Dean cried. "At least my ass one made sense! How can you play pin a tail on an ass without an ass?"
Randy couldn't stay for the next episode to play. He had some packing to do before a long day of traveling ahead.
Roman gave him a tight hug at the door before they parted. It lasted several seconds, and Roman loved each one. He missed Randy. He cared so much for his old friend. Even if they had little in common, even if they'd been more roommates than actual comrades, Randy was still one soul of billions in the world who actually gave a damn about Roman. Who bought him an expensive jacket in Roman's nerdy taste. Who dropped by to say goodbye before a trip home.
Randy cared.
And Roman had never learned to appreciate it until now.
"Text me when you're back," Roman said. "We can get together and chill again or something."
"Yeah, definitely," Randy responded, patting Roman on the shoulder. "Think Nikki was interested in seeing us again, too."
Roman made a face, giving Randy a direct reaction to that particular fact.
"Should I tell her about you and Dean? Might make her back off a bit," he proposed.
"I don't know, maybe. I feel if she really, truly can't give it up—especially when she can have someone like you"—Randy smiled proudly at this declaration—"then I won't have a choice but to let her know. But I'd rather it come from me."
"Understandable. It's your business, buddy, and even if it's not my own, I respect it, and I support you guys all the way."
As if following directions from a cue card, Dean strode to Roman's side and braided his own fingers into Roman's.
"Keep looking after one another. You guys deserve each other." Randy's kind eyes went above their heads, to Seth behind them. "And look after him, too. Different kind of love, but equally real."
"Amazing how well you understand us without really knowing it."
"I'm starting to know it, Roman. It's different. It's nothing I'm used to myself." He touched a hand to his chest. "But it's so real, and it's so good. Don't ever let it go. Okay? No matter what."
Randy, who'd rightfully and logically ran at the thought of danger, was offering something of a blessing to Roman and Dean—and Seth—no matter what this situation held for them in the given future. Roman appreciated him even more now. He missed Randy even with Randy standing before him.
Roman opened his arms for another hug. He couldn't resist. "Thanks, brother."
"You're welcome, brother."
It had a nice ring to it.
Dean moved between them, giving a hug of his own. "Thanks for being cool, Randy. Glad you can start to see the light, too."
"Yeah. It's harder to see on some days."
"Those are the days we try a little harder to see it."
Randy smiled. "See you guys. I'll let you know when I'm home."
"Later, dude," Dean said.
"Have a safe trip," Seth said.
"Bye, Randy."
Goodbyes suck a bigger dick than Dean claims the people in Beverly Hills have.
After Randy left—and Roman immediately locked the door, he turned to Seth and Dean. They watched him watch them. Roman loved the hell out of both of them, so goddamn much, he couldn't believe he had the whole world right here in his living room.
"Did you tell Seth the news from your uncle?" Roman quizzed.
"Oh, yeah. Uncle Mark said he's moving in on them. He's got a lead."
"What does that mean?"
"Means this is gonna be over before we know it. Maybe even before Christmas!" Dean thrust his arms into the air, triumphant already in his own little loony world. "Best present ever."
Christmas was a season of hope. Some days Roman clung to hope like a life raft on a rickety sea. Today it was not a cling, it was a possession. He sailed on those seas, the captain of his own ship. And he was not alone. Seth and Dean were their to conquer the ocean with him.
If life got worse, if a storm rolled in, they'd be ready.
It didn't seem so difficult to see the light in this moment. In this day. This evening in his world, with his world.
So, what did you guys think? :) I was going to include the reopening of Java Central in this chapter, but I didn't want this to go on and on forever and ever, so that will be included in the next chapter...including a scene and ending you won't want to miss. Like I said, the action and angst just had to return at some point, right? ;) Reviews = LOVE!