Roman didn't care what it took.

He was not going to work the next day.

Roman and Dean pushed into the apartment, toting Seth between them with his arms around each of their shoulders. He was able to walk for himself, but the position was more for the sake of support should he collapse again. His body was still shivering, his heart rate in shambles by his rapid breathing. Dean and Roman transported him to the couch, laying him flat on his back with a pillow under his neck.

"Does he need a doctor?" Dean asked, voice thin.

"Don't think so." Seth was showing symptoms of mild hypothermia. Thank you, seventh grade health class. "For the time being, we can take care of him here. Get his clothes off. They might be wet and keeping him cold. I'm going to get him some pajamas and blankets."

Roman ignored whatever petty resentment he might have felt in any other given circumstance as his boyfriend Dean moved to tug his crush's shirt off. He switched on the fireplace, then opened the door to Seth's bedroom. It was freezing inside. Looks like he wouldn't be sleeping in this room tonight. Roman yanked a couple of dresser drawers open on a hunt for warm clothes for Seth. In one of them, he found a Doctor Who Sonic Screwdriver pen in its plastic box, obviously an unwrapped Christmas gift for him. Whoops, Roman thought, covering it beneath a couple of pairs of socks and moving onto the next drawer.

He returned to the living room with Seth's Chicago Bears pullover hoodie, a pair of sweats, and three blankets. Seth slowly dressed himself in the warm outfit. He wasn't completely powerless or incapable of self-sufficiency. A lack of coordination and confusion, drowsiness, lack of concern about his own condition, a progressive loss of consciousness—these were all symptoms of more severe hypothermia. As long as he was moving and speaking alright, Roman wasn't going to let himself worry. Even his shivering was comforting in that in severe cases, shivering came to a complete halt.

Roman sat beside Seth on the couch. He pressed the back of his hand against Seth's cheek. Seth leaned against it, obviously enjoying the warmth of Roman's touch.

"You holding up alright, trooper?" Roman asked.

"Yeah," Seth said, coughing hard after the word. "Just fucking cold."

"Still?"

Seth nodded.

Roman looked at Dean. "You know how to make tea?"

Dean's jaw lowered. "Uh. Not exactly."

Really? He can't make tea? "Okay." Roman bit his lip. His anxiety was still trying to trounce him. He would overwhelm it with opposition. "I need you to cuddle with him."

Dean's head cocked to the side. "What?"

"Yeah. Use your body heat to keep him warm. Just…lay next to him. Under the blankets."

"Ro, are you sure—?"

Roman tossed his head back, eyes rolling. "Dammit, Dean, this is for his health, I'm not gonna get—"

Dean held up two surrendering hands. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll do it. But it's strictly professional."

"I get that. Thank you."

Dean's eyes narrowed as they inspected Roman's face. "Damn, Ro. You're gonna look really badass now, with that scar."

Roman had nearly forgotten about the incision on his face. It had stopped bleeding sometime ago. He decided to let the wound heal on its own. Stitches would be costly. He didn't need to be visiting the hospital again unless it was absolutely necessary. And perhaps Dean was right. One more scar to affix to his growing collection, additional physical evidence of his valor and resilience.

I am Superman.

"I'm gonna go make him some tea." The beverage had to be warm but nonalcoholic and decaffeinated, to prevent his heart from going erratic. Coffee was out as an option. Even decaffeinated coffee would be too much for Seth's anatomy in its state.

Roman filled a pot halfway up with water, dropped two teabags into the cooking utensil, and cranked the stovetop on to a high setting. He tried not to focus on Dean slithering under the blanket with Seth, enveloping the shaking hypothermia victim in his shielding arms. Roman nearly abandoned the stewing liquid in the kitchen and added himself to the equation. He could hold Dean and Seth both. He wanted to. But the couch wouldn't hold all three of them. Not comfortably.

But why did they have to be facing each other? Why were they half a quarter of an inch from connecting lips?

He could hear Dean speaking softly to Seth, able to make out only a few of the words. "…Christmas…going…family…?…yeah, I'll…ask Roman…fine with it…"

Roman would allow himself into the conversation when invited. He concentrated on the simmering tea. Not much longer now. Cognitively he focused on the facts of his modern situation with Dean and Seth.

Bray Wyatt was dead.

Bo Dallas and Erick Rowan were dead.

Luke Harper was dead.

Dean just killed two men to protect Roman and Seth.

Sister Abigail was…

Sister Abigail…was…

Roman's mind paralyzed. He had no idea what became of her. Had she gotten away? Escaped? Was she still at the apartment? If Undertaker had found her, what did he do with her? Kill her? Allowed her to live? That didn't seem to be in his character. He pledged to "take care of everything" at the scene of the showdown, "clean up" with his "process." But was Abigail even involved in the process?

And if she wasn't…if she managed to escape…what would she do?

Could she turn them all in? Expose the night's events to the law?

Could Dean get arrested?

That wasn't even an option. Dean would never let himself get caught, brought to trial, convicted of murder and sentenced to prison. If they'd even convict him of murder. If he didn't get off free because he was defending himself and his friends. What were the self-defense jurisdictions in this state?

It didn't matter. Roman didn't give much thought to the trial that would never happen. Dean would leave the city to elude the authorities before that ever happened.

And Roman didn't want that to happen. Not at all.

So much for it being over. Now I'm gonna sit here wondering what the hell Abigail's gonna do. Should we track her down? Too dangerous. Roman didn't know what she was capable of, what connections she had through her now deceased brothers. Undertaker was no longer a choice, either, since Dean had virtually no way of contacting him again. But Roman doubted with all his heart Abigail was going to let them simply get away with everything that had happened. As far as he knew, her entire family was dead, and no decent human being would realistically stand for that.

Roman pressed his hands into the counter and stretched his back muscles. They were taut. He needed a massage. His brain needed a break.

Yeah. So much for it being over…

The tea was boiling. Roman removed it from the hot stovetop and let the bags simmer in the water for a few minutes. His mom had taught him everything he knew about cooking and baking and fixing drinks, as if prepping him for his very first job at the coffeehouse long before he obtained it. Roman poured the concoction into three waiting mugs. He stirred up two spoonfuls of sugar into the third mug and left the other two alone, the way he usually drank it anyway.

He delivered the cups to the living room. Dean lifted to a sitting position and asked which one was his. Roman handed over the sweetened beverage, which Dean took down hastily.

"Don't burn your mouth," Roman warned. "It's still hot."

Seth held onto Roman's arm and sat himself up. "Thanks, Ro," he said, taking the cup and lifting it to his chapped lips for a slow sip.

"Yeah. You're welcome."

Dean pushed himself off the couch. "It's your turn, Ro."

"My turn for what?"

"To cuddle with Seth. He needs us both. Plus, you've got all that muscle to help keep him warm with. Not like me."

Roman chuckled softly. "Sure. I can do that."

"I've got something to do, anyway."

Roman didn't question it. Dean was always up to something. The "Lunatic Fringe" disappeared into Seth's room.

He couldn't deny the little flutter in his heart as Roman drew back the blanket and positioned himself underneath at Seth's side. They weren't lying down, arms weaved around one another, just yet. Roman wanted Seth to finish his drink first. That was more important.

"You work tomorrow?" Roman queried. He squinted at the blue numbers on the DVR. It was almost four o'clock in the morning. "Or…today, I guess?"

Seth scoffed. "Doesn't matter. I'm not going."

"Yeah. I hear ya."

Seth stared down at the steaming mug. Then shifted his look to Roman. "Can you believe it?"

"Believe what?" Roman asked, feeling silly for asking that. Surely he already knew.

"All that's happened. This, it's…it's crazy to think that maybe it might all be over."

Seth was still coming to terms with it. Whereas Roman was past that point and recognized the potential of new dangers ahead. But he didn't want to cast any revived concerns out into the universe just yet. Let the dust settle and let the boys feel relaxed for a little while. "Yeah. It's finally over. Getting to live every day knowing Bray Wyatt isn't around the corner waiting to jump you—it's a good feeling."

"You never really know how valuable life is until…"

"Until you're tossed in a freezer, or left for dead outside a gas station?"

Seth grimaced. Bleak memories played over in his eyes. I'm an idiot, I'm supposed to be supporting the ease now, not reminding him of the bad times. "Yeah."

"But you're right, you're right. I think in life, those kinds of challenges are important, because they help us understand that life isn't something we should take for granted, because at any moment, it could be taken away from us. We should live everyday, and to live isn't necessarily the same as being alive."

Seth nodded, understanding. "Enjoy the little things. Stay positive. Help others. Drink more coffee."

Roman laughed. "Yes. That's a must for living a good, full life. Drink more coffee."

"Actually, probably not. Might live a little longer if you cut coffee out of the picture."

"Well, yeah, but then you'd be living a blasphemous, shameful existence, and who wants that?"

Seth handed his empty cup to Roman, who put both mugs on the table behind him. "I'm tired, dude. Might just fall asleep. You sure you don't want to just go to bed?"

"I'll stay with you. I need to monitor your breathing, make sure you don't slip away from us during the night."

"You gonna be able to stay awake?" Seth asked doubtfully.

"Sure."

And he did. Roman's eyes may have been closed, his body and mind weary and longing for slumber, but he kept his word. He was too nervous to sleep. Seth slinked into Roman's strong arms and drew his legs under the comforter to protect his feet from getting chilly again. Roman tugged the top blanket of the pile up over their shoulders. Seth's head rested on his rising and falling chest. Roman wondered if Seth could tell just how fiercely his heart was beating in this instance. Was that Seth's striking pulse he was feeling, or his own?

It's the hypothermia. Blame that.

Seth shifted in his sleep, turning his head. Now it was his lips and Roman's half a quarter of an inch from connecting. Not that he'd ever think to kiss Seth, hell no, especially not with Dean one room away. Still. Crushes had a sadistic way of taunting the mind with notions and musings of the great what if.

Roman wasn't sure how long he lay there, cradling Seth, listening to his breathing stabilize in his sleep, the heat of their bodies under the blankets stifling now…he must have nodded off at some point, just for a moment, because he woke with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder and his voice in a whisper.

"Roman. Hey."

His eyes pulled open, and he blinked. The fireplace was still going, the lamp still on, as though no time had passed at all. The clock on the DVR told a contrasting story, as did the faint glow of morning sun behind the blinds. Dean was standing in front of him.

"Hey."

"I need to shower. Would you care to join me?"

The idea enthralled Roman. "Hell yeah."

"I'll go get Seth another blanket. Make up for the warmth he'll be missing once you're away."

Roman carefully maneuvered himself off the couch. Dean returned with Roman's prized TARDIS blanket, what must have been inspiration for the present tucked away in Seth's drawer. Dean laid the blanket atop the heap.

"Hope we don't screw him over and give him hyperthermia as a result of all this," Dean said.

"I think he'll be alright." He flicked off the lamp and the fireplace. It was pretty balmy in here now.

Roman joined Dean in the bathroom and pressed the door closed, locking it out of habit. He shivered in the little space, frosty compared to the sweltering living room air. Roman stripped of his dirty clothing and made a pile on the counter. He'd have to take care of laundry a little later as well. Dean's eyes surveyed Roman's naked form, from head to toe. Roman felt proud to make his love feel so enchanted.

"You are beautiful, Roman Reigns," Dean breathed. "All over. Inside and out."

"Thank you. So are you, especially with all this out of the way." Roman tugged on the sleeve of Dean's shirt. Dean smiled, sheepish, and peeled his clothing off. Roman was dazzled by the sight of him like this for the first time in too long. He couldn't even wait to get into the shower; he pulled Dean into a firm kiss and pressed their bare bodies together.

Eventually they found their way into a steamy shower. Roman understood this wasn't just a sexual, sensual time for him and Dean; the two of them really did need to get clean. The process was delayed several times when Dean shampooed his unkempt hair, then let his hand glide down Roman's stomach and past his waistline. Roman's erection lifted in record time, and as Dean let the hot water rinse him clean of the shampoo, the shower concurrently got a little dirtier.

Roman fastened Dean's lips to his, moaning as Dean worked him over. Water trickled through his long black mane. He wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and pulled him closer. Dean was vigorous in rubbing Roman's cock up and down, up and down. He was aggressive in his kisses, biting his lip, prodding his lover's mouth with a feisty tongue. Dean was loving it, but it wasn't enough. Unexpectedly he dropped to his knees and gathered Roman's throbbing dick, all of it, in his mouth, deep down in his throat. Roman gasped, holding himself up with two hands on the wet tile wall. Dean's tongue lathered and swirled all around, up and down. Maintaining one hand on the wall so not to topple over, Roman used his right hand to tug and pull on Dean's sopping hair.

"That's it," Roman groaned, assuming a dominant position. It wasn't easy to command Dean what to do rather than beg for the sweet release. "That's it, suck me off. Just like that…fuck, just like that."

A glance down let Roman know that Dean was jerking himself off while sucking Roman's dick. Wow, that's actually really fucking hot—Roman had little time to appreciate it. His knees nearly gave out as an overpowering orgasm surged through him, fingers to fingers, toes to toes. He didn't even try to muffle his groans of obvious pleasure. All at once his body relaxed.

Dean was quiet when he came, breathing in hitches and body shaking, but Roman watched as his own dick released a shot of semen that mixed with the water and washed down the drain. They had amazing synchronization. Perhaps it was Roman's orgasm that helped trigger Dean's own.

Roman rubbed Dean's shoulder. "Thank you."

"I love you."

"I already know." Roman smiled.

Dean shoved a handful of hair from his reddened face. "Guess we better hurry the hell up and get clean before we lose all the hot water."

Roman found it incredibly sensual that Dean allowed Roman to lather him up. Roman ran a puffy, soapy loofah across Dean's biceps, under his arms, down his chest, over his stomach. He playfully poked Dean a few times in the ribs, and Dean squirmed and swatted his hand away. Dean then offered the same sensual service to Roman, spreading the scratchy loofah over his figure. Roman could tell Dean was mighty impressed with the muscles that were just as much his as they were Roman's. He was touching Roman far more times than were necessary to clean him up. He was hard again, they both were, by the time the steam started dissipating and the water lost its temperature. They had to get out.

Roman shut the water off. Outside the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist before swathing Dean in his own fluffy towel and kissing his dripping forehead. "I love you so goddamn much, Dean Ambrose." His crush on Seth was nothing compared to that.

"I love you too, Roman. And now we finally get to live as one of those normal couples, right?" He twisted his pinky finger around Roman's. "With date nights and sexy times and anniversaries and shit?"

"Of course," Roman promised.

"And no stupid Wyatts to send us into panic attacks every single night."

"None at all. They're gone forever, so let's not even talk about them ever again."

"Fine by me." Dean kissed his nose.

Now wasn't the time to mention Abigail. Now was the time to enjoy Dean, enjoy Seth for all the two had, enjoy the rest of the Christmas season, enjoy life. Take nothing for granted, cherish the little things, and thrive, not just survive.