Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Alleged Suicide, Self-Harm, etc.

OOOO

The Next Morning

Seth awoke around six hours later, with absolutely no recollection of the 'wrong number' that had called earlier. He stretched lazily and yawned, feeling his back stretch and crack in an oh so pleasant manner.

"Morning." Seth mumbled, rolling over and burying his face in Roman's neck. He was overwhelmed by the scent of clean sweat and fading cologne.

Roman grunted, shifting carefully beneath the surprisingly heavy man. "Good morning." Even as he said the words, he refused to open his eyes.

The two-toned man sighed, "You know… I know that we had breakfast reservations and all… but I really don't want to get out of bed right now. You're comfy."

The ex-football player chose to ignore that comment. "We can always stay in and order room service, if that's what you want."

"Yeah." Drawing in a deep breath, he reveled in the scent of his lover. "That would be really nice."

Roman shifted a little bit, but realized that he wouldn't be getting very far with Seth lounging on him. "You know, it's just a little difficult for me to dial the phone with you laying on me like this."

"Oh, sorry." Seth rolled off of him reluctantly.

Roman made the call as fast as possible, not wanting to be away from Seth longer than was absolutely necessary. They were making significant strides together in their recovery – last night, for the first time since the incident, Seth had slept almost entirely naked. He'd also woken in the middle of the night to find one of his legs trapped between Roman's and Roman's hand settled just above the graceful dip in his back, and he hadn't freaked out. He hadn't struggled or tried to fight, either. Instead, mush to Roman's surprise, he'd snuggled a little bit closer and had gone back to sleep. The silent trust displayed there could not be properly expressed with words.

Now, climbing back into the bed, Seth immediately latched onto him – he was like a dehydrated man that had been wandering in the desert forever, and Roman was the sweet, sweet relief of water to his parched tongue. And Roman found himself laughing, actually laughing, for the first time in who knows how long. He began tracing patterns onto Seth's lower back, allowing his hand to travel as low as he dared. There was something undeniably perfect about that moment. They were as close as they had been in what felt like forever and… Seth slithered up, pressing his lips gently, carefully against Roman's – he was everything but hesitant.

Roman drew back slightly, just enough to draw in a quick breath and ask, "Are you sure about this?" Seth's hand was traveling lower, leaving Roman with no way of mistaking his intentions.

"Very sure." Seth mumbled as he nuzzled the bigger man's neck, "No penetration, of course. I don't know whether or not I'm ready for that… and I don't want to end up hurting you if I'm not." He finished, much softer now.

It was then that Roman kissed his forehead lovingly, comfortingly. "You're doing just fine, Seth. And if you don't want to -,"

"I want to." Seth replied, enthusiastic and forceful.

"And you know that you're in full control here." He continued to reassure.

"Oh, just shut up and let me suck you off already." Seth said, pulling the blankets back and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Roman's sleep pants. "I'm afraid that, if you get any harder, we'll be able to use your dick as a hammer."

The Samoan rolled his eyes, but Seth could see that he was fighting back a smirk. "Funny."

This was the last coherent thing to leave his mouth for quite a while. In the time that it took for him to make that last sarcastic remark, Seth had managed to rid him of both his sleep pants and underwear and had taken the entirety of him into his mouth in one long, saliva-filled gulp. With a skillful twist of the head, his hot, wicked tongue began an unrelenting attack on the thick, dark blue vein that stood on the underside of the thick column of meat. And then, a sinful finger traced over his overly-sensitive balls, and that was it. Roman's cum exploded into his mouth so suddenly, he almost choked. But that was okay – this was the first time in a long time.

Seth drew back and offered Roman a blissed-out Roman a self-satisfied grin. Not ten seconds later, there was a knock at the door. "Room service!" The waiter called.

Seth rolled over and allowed Roman enough room to get up, smirk never fading. "Door's for you."

OOOO

"That was one hell of a work-out." Seth said as he adjusted the cool towel that was draped around his neck. "My muscles are fucking burn-," he cut off mid-sentence, pausing in the middle of the hallway.

Roman, not even bothering to look up from his cell phone, asked, "What were you saying? And why'd you stop walking?"

It only took one word to stop Roman's heart. "Dean."

And there he was, in the flesh, standing there with the cocky confidence of a man that was just a tad touched in the head, offering the two men a small smile. Roman honestly wouldn't have believed it to be possible, had Seth not seen him first. They simply stood there, almost ten feet of distance between them, and stared at each other for several moments. Thousands of emotions fluttered lightning-fast through Seth's wide, emotive brown eyes. His breath was coming faster and pretty soon, Roman was sure that he would start hyperventilating. This was all so unexpected and so sudden… and Dean wasn't saying anything.

And then, Seth was approaching him. That wide range of emotions which had been visible earlier had now shut off entirely, and with a look of cool, calculated determination, he closed the distance between them with a tight stride. Finally, drawing his arm back, he landed a wild strike onto Dean's cheek. Immediately, the flesh there was taken by a bright red color, and the entire cheek started to swell profusely. Dean continued to remain silent, seeming as though he had accepted that as Seth's response to his return, and had acknowledged that he deserved every painful strike that Seth could land. That's when Seth broke.

He threw himself into Dean's arms and buried his face in the other man's neck, feeling the salty sting of tears form in his eyes. "I… I thought that you had left. Roman said -,"

Dean laced his fingers through Seth's tousled, wet two-toned locks, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I know… I know… I did have to leave, at least for a little while. But I'm back now, so please don't cry." Dean said.

Seth let out a choked laugh, "You look really shitty as a platinum blond." They both laughed.

"It wasn't my call." Dean said, scratching his head awkwardly. "But I'll explain that all later. You look… You look good. How have -,"

But Roman cut him off. Eyes ablaze, temper flaring; Roman hissed at him, "How have we been? How have we been? Don't you fucking dare even ask that?!"

That's when it happened. Roman drew back his fist, not for a slap, but a punch. His knuckles made contact with Dean's already swollen cheek and Dean tasted the coppery tang of blood as the red fluid spilled into his mouth. He stumbled backward, now realizing how their various opponents must have felt having been on the receiving end of the Superman Punch, and cupped his cheek. And then he saw it. Roman's sleeve had rolled back when he made the hit and now, ragged, brutal scars were visible on his right wrist – some were fresher than Dean would like to admit.

"Roman…" Dean trailed off softly, his worst fears coming to terrible, horrific reality.

"What the hell, Roman?" Seth was ready to lay into him. It was obvious that he hadn't seen, that he didn't know. "He's back! He's come back to us, and all you can do is scream at him and punch him?!"

Roman rolled his eyes. Absently, he rolled down his sleeve. He could see Dean's eyes boring into him and he didn't like it at all. "Oh, like you acted like an angel! As I seem to recall, you slapped him not five minutes ago!"

"Roman…" he continued to whisper softly. Inside, he was breaking.

Seth turned back to Dean, lending him an arm. "You're going to need some ice for that cheek. Why don't you come inside? I can get you some frozen peas from the freezer and you can," he looked back at Roman, "explain yourself."

"Roman…" Dean's mind was otherwise occupied, thoughts running a mile a minute.

It wasn't over, though. The torture wasn't over. "What the fuck were you thinking, Dean? You think that it's okay to play with my mind like it's some sort of toy, huh?" This was it. This was the big man's breaking point. "Do you have any idea what seeing that sort of thing does to a person?"

His fingers were digging into the fresh wounds and this time, Dean shouted, "Roman!"

And Seth, face serious, asked Dean, "What's he talking about, Dean? What'd he see?"

Dean made no move to speak and that was okay, because Roman was done. The fine line he'd been walking inside had finally snapped and he was… just… done. Raising his hands as if to raise the white flag, Roman bowed out before Dean could speak, "I'm done."

He turned around and started to walk away, burying his fists into his pockets and never once turning back. Seth made to go after him, but Dean placed a hand onto his chest and applied gentle pressure in order to hold him back. There were certain times at which you had to pick your battles. This was one that Dean knew he would be unable to win for a significant period of time… if ever. His worst nightmares were realized when he saw the scars that littered Roman's wrists, the clear signs of past and continued self-harm. It was a wonder how Seth had yet to notice them.

Seth paused, before turning back toward Dean. "What was he talking about?"

OOOO

Roman sat on the curb just beyond the hotel, pocket knife carefully concealed in his hand. His place was rather well-hidden from the main road (that was the benefit of hiding in an alley, after all) and his only guest was the occasional alley cat, who, more often than not, left him alone. He could not help but constantly replay that earlier scene in his mind. Seth had been so excited to see Dean… that range of emotions that he had experienced in that short period of time was truly astounding. But Roman… he didn't know what he felt. 'Betrayed' was probably a fairly safe, all-encompassing term.

Dean had killed himself on Roman's watch, had left his body for Roman to find. Would it have been so hard to let Roman in on the plan, to let him know that he wasn't actually dead? He found himself digging his fingers into his wrist, pressing down exceptionally hard on overly-sensitive wounds – the pain that coursed through him reminded him of the pain that he had felt that night, the tearing at his heart as he stumbled into the locker room to find Dean bleeding out on the tile floor. Betrayed, yes, that was exactly how he felt. Would it really have been so hard to show a little… trust?

Roman snapped the blade and pressed it to his skin, seemingly detaching from himself. His eyes were empty as he pulled the blade across his skin and then tossed it aside. And after all that, he was only able to whisper one word. "Why?"