Hi everyone, me again!

This kind of jumped on me out of nowhere after I watched the Payback PPV and on-line interview they did with Dean last night, and it just begged to be written!

So, yeah, this is set directly after the PPV. This hasn't been beta-read, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes. Italics are flashbacks, just to avoid any confusion!

Please feel free to leave any and all opinions/reviews/critiques/prompts/suggestions etc, and I hope you enjoy it!

Message received 00:17

Roman Reigns, I don't give a shit what you do, or how you do it, but if you don't fix this, I swear on my life that I'm going to kick your teeth down your throat the next time I see you – S.

Roman couldn't help but give a shudder when he read the text left for him. He shouldn't have been surprised that Seth already knew about what happened; Seth had a knack for finding out things faster than anyone else, especially when it involved either himself or Dean.

Considering just how violent their argument had been earlier after Roman had gotten back to the locker room, Roman wouldn't have been surprised if the entire world knew about their fight. After all, neither of them were capable of holding back what they felt; it was part of the reason they usually worked so well together.

Usually.

It had taken a hell of a lot of bribery and pleading, following the smallest of leads he could get his hands on, before a couple of the NXT guys had taken pity on him. Well, it was either pity, stupidity, or they were just shit scared of an angry and upset Samoan threatening them, but Roman couldn't bring himself to care.

Once he'd finally managed to get the information he wanted – apparently, Dean had been spotted with all of his gear heading down towards Sami's room – Roman had wasted no time in making his way through the hotel.

Now though, stood outside of what he desperately hoped was Sami's room, Roman found himself unable to move. His heart was pounding in his chest; whilst he could lie and say it was the adrenaline and exertion after his killer match with AJ, Roman knew he was lying to himself.

Roman and Dean had been dating since the early SHIELD days. They'd both been inexplicably drawn to each other; they both had the same caustic sense of humour, they both fit together, they worked together, and most importantly, they trusted each other.

Dean's onscreen persona wasn't as exaggerated as most people believed; the younger man wore his heart on his sleeve, yet refused access to his inner thoughts and emotions. Roman, and Seth to a lesser extent, had both found themselves granted permission into Dean's inner sanctum.

Roman probably knew Dean better than Dean knew himself.

He knew how Dean would nibble at his thumb nail when he was nervous about something.

He knew how Dean would hum Pantera under his breath when he was psyching himself up for something.

He knew how Dean had to be the little spoon when they were in bed together, and if Roman went to get up or move at any point, then Dean would instantly wake up and need reassuring that Roman wasn't going anywhere.

He knew that when Dean kissed him, or whispered his name, or gave him that quirked grin, that that was Dean's way of saying 'I love you'.

Roman also knew how Dean believed he didn't deserve him. How Dean was convinced that Roman could do better than some 'stupid scumbag kid from the streets'. How Dean was so devastatingly vulnerable beneath that tough, lunatic exterior he played up for the cameras.

How Dean absolutely despised the near constant fights and arguments that they seemed to get into nowadays.

What had initially started off as small things – a misplaced hotel key here, a couple of unneeded risks during matches, one of them hogging all the hot water in the shower – had begun to gradually spiral out of control.

Now, a missed phone call, a mistimed joke, the pressures that came with Roman running in the main event circles whilst Dean continued trying to make a name for himself, they'd started to build and build until it reached the point where Roman knew that all it would take was one spark to set the whole thing alight. One spark that would almost certainly burn down everything that Dean and him shared.

Roman just didn't think that he would be the one to fan the flames and set everything in motion. Especially when he knew that it was, legitimately, all his fault.

Roman couldn't keep the smile off of his face as he walked towards his locker room, the weight of his Championship belt snug and secure on his shoulder. He and AJ had absolutely torn the house down, and even though it had been an incredibly close fought match-up, Roman was over the moon that he'd retained his gold in the end.

Once they'd gotten backstage, Roman had given AJ a brief hug, laughing when AJ had joked about Extreme Rules and Roman keeping the belt warm for him. Jimmy and Jey had come barrelling over, clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating Roman on his win, and Roman felt a warmth that he hadn't felt for a while.

He might not have been over with the crowd – something that still had the potential to fuck him over in a match when he let it get to him – but he was finally getting the respect of the boys backstage, and it was a good feeling.

That good feeling though began to dissipate when he caught site of Dean on one of the monitors.

It was one of those exclusive videos they liked to push after matches; management said they were good for character and feud development. Dean looked visibly exhausted after his bout with Jericho; Roman knew that Dean's back had to be killing him after taking the Walls of Jericho twice in such a short space of time. Roman couldn't quite catch what Dean was saying – there were too many people wandering past, some trying to talk to him, others minding their own business – but he could tell that Dean was upset about something.

The set-up of the promo, all brick walls and spewed anger, was eerily reminiscent of an old Moxley shoot, the irony of which Roman knew wouldn't be lost on Dean. When Dean had had enough of answering questions, he'd stalked off, and Roman gave out a sigh. He knew that Dean would be heading back towards their dressing room, and Roman thought it would be prudent to cut Dean off before he did anything stupid…

Yeah, because that had worked amazingly well, Roman chastised himself. Roman could still feel the heat and venom roiling in his gut, but it was immediately dampened when he remembered that he didn't really have any reason to be angry. After all, he was the one who had fucked up big time.

Him and Dean, they had a habit of rubbing each other up the wrong way. They loved each other, they cared for each other, but they were both pig-headed and prone to fits of egotism.

This is where Seth usually came in; as much as people liked to joke that he was the third wheel in Dean and Roman's relationship, Seth's friendship with both of them meant that he was used to being the voice of reason. Seth knew how to deal with them when they were being stubborn or just plain idiotic. He'd supported their relationship ever since the morning that Seth had accidently walked in on Roman fucking Dean through the mattress, telling both of them that 'it was about time they got their heads out of their asses'.

It shouldn't have surprised Roman that Dean had apparently told Seth what had happened in their locker room. If anything, he was shocked that Seth hadn't called him and ripped him a new one down the phone.

Seth was remarkably protective of Dean like that.

Roman didn't blame him.

Dean was pushing the last of his gear into his gym bag when Roman finally reached their locker room. The frustration radiating off of Dean despite his win over Jericho was palpable, and Roman made sure to close the door behind him as he stepped inside.

"Hey."

Roman's words were soft and breathy, not surprising considering how much the match with AJ had taken out of him. It was worth it though to see the tension leave Dean's shoulders, the younger man turning to sit on the end of the bench as he started to unwrap the tape from his wrists. Dean gave a salacious grin.

"Hello yourself, champ."

Roman wandered towards Dean, dropping an absent kiss into his sweaty hair before he started peeling himself out of his ring gear. The championship gleamed brightly as it lay on the surface between the two men. Roman watched as Dean rubbed his thumb along the nameplate, a small but genuine smile on his lips.

"Hey, you better not be getting any ideas over there… That baby is mine."

The tone was jovial and relaxed, but the instant the words left Roman's mouth, he could see how rigid Dean had become.

"Oh right, I forgot," Dean bit out, and Roman could hear the uncharacteristic heat unwillingly tainting Dean's voice. "This is the only baby that matters right now, isn't it?"

Roman frowned. This had become a familiar argument since his win at Wrestlemania, but it didn't mean that it was any less unpleasant to have.

"Don't be like that babe, you know you're important to me too."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Well, sometimes it doesn't fucking feel like it."

The hostility in the room was beginning to grow, the tension making its way back into both men's bodies.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Roman's response was dark, his hands clenched by his side.

"Ever since you won that goddamn belt, you've made it pretty damn fucking clear where you're priorities lie."

Roman laughed, a harsh and nasty sound that only fuelled the anger in Dean's normally clear eyes.

"Well, in case you hadn't realised, I'm the fucking champion now! This is what I've been working for since I first got here. This is the greatest achievement of my life, of course it's my fucking priority!"

"Oh wow, of course, how could I fucking forget?" Dean was absolutely seething, turning his back to Roman as he kicked the bench hard. "I'm so glad to know where I sit in your list of priorities."

Roman rolled his eyes. A small part of him was starting to panic; he needed to head this conversation off now before he did any more damage. The rest of him though was demanding that he not back down; things had slowly been falling apart around the edges since his title win, and this seemed as good a time as any to rip everything to shreds.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot that everything had to be about you, you arrogant prick! For once, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Why? Why can't I be happy for you? Gee, Rome, I don't know. Maybe it's because ever since you won that stupid title you've become this pompous ego-maniac I can't even recognise anymore!"

Dean turned around just as Roman took a step forward, both men coming nose-to-nose with each other as they continued shouting, volume and any audience be damned.

"Or maybe, maybe it's because you're fucking jealous that you are, and always will be, the fucking weak link holding everyone else back! Just fucking admit it, you will never be in my league! You will never be anything more than a talentless, worthless, insecure little bitch! Everyone knows it! Sometimes I think my entire life would have been so much fucking easier if you'd just fucked off back to the streets and never existe-"

Roman hadn't seen the slap coming his way, but he damn well felt it.

The gunshot ring of skin on skin silenced everything else in their toxic bubble. The burn of the contact had Roman's fingers automatically coming up to cradle his face. The very shock of the hit rendered Roman's anger instantly mute, as if a bucket of icy cold water had just been thrown on him. Blinking rapidly, Roman took a step back, trying to glance up into Dean's face.

He wished he hadn't.

Dean's blue eyes, normally so light and ephemeral, were practically a storm of emotions. A stray tear was running down Dean's pale cheek. The younger man was practically shaking, his arms wrapped loosely around his chest; it was a tell-tale sign that Dean was feeling uncomfortable and insecure, but Roman couldn't bring himself to move.

Dean's breathing was shallow and ragged, as if he was trying to hold back the hurricane of pain leaking through the wall he'd built between them.

Roman felt like he was going to be sick as he reached his hand towards Dean's face, his chest aching when Dean took a couple of frantic steps back. Even after their worst fights, Dean had never avoided Roman's touch.

"De-"

Roman stopped when Dean grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder without a care for the state of his back and marching over to the door.

He tried again, his fingers brushing against Dean's wrist before Dean rounded on him, the mask briefly cracking before Dean strengthened his resolve, physically pushing Roman away as he swung the door open.

"Go to hell."

The vitriol in Dean's normally soft and gravelly voice hurt more than the slap to the face, and Roman winced when Dean slammed the door shut behind him, the pictures on the wall shaking perilously.

"Shit."

The ache of the slap had faded fairly soon after Dean had stormed out of their locker room, but Roman could still feel it burning him like a brand.

Roman knew that he'd crossed the line. He'd never imagined that he would've said even half of the things that he had to Dean, even when they were at each other's throats, but then again, it appeared that Roman obviously didn't know himself as well as he thought he did.

He knew that he'd struck a very sensitive nerve with his words. It has hard to elicit that kind of emotion in Dean, even at the best of times; growing up the way that Dean had, he'd had to learn how to be tough. How to always keep his guard up in fear of getting chewed up and spit out.

Roman had never seen Dean cry.

The fact that Roman had been the one to make Dean cry, to push the younger man over the edge with his brutal words and desire to win their argument was enough to make Roman feel nauseous.

Roman had no idea where he stood now. He had no idea where Dean, their relationship, or hell even their friendship stood, and Roman couldn't stand not knowing.

What Roman did know, however, was that he needed to fix this. He at least owed Dean that.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Roman knocked firmly on the door in front of him, hoping at the very least that he could make some headway.

After a few moments of rustling and movement behind the door, it swung open.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Sami stood in the doorway, his body positioned so that Roman couldn't get any look inside the room even if he wanted to. Sami was wearing a pair of loose jogging bottoms, his chest and shoulders covered in bruises and welts from the vicious brawl he'd had with Kevin earlier in the night, but there was a gleam in his eyes that told Roman he wasn't scared of going toe-to-toe with someone for the second time that night.

It was incredibly odd seeing Sami protective in this way; yet again though, Dean and Seth had had a running joke about how Sami was Seth's surrogate whilst he was out rehabbing his knee. Dean and Sami had at least some history, so it shouldn't have been surprising that Dean felt comfortable around the older Canadian.

Roman lifted his palms, trying to make himself look as non-threatening as he could.

"Sami, please, I'm not here to start a fight. I just need to know if he's here."

Sami gave out an unamused huff.

"Please, Reigns, I think you've had enough fights for tonight, don't you?" Roman at least had the dignity to visibly shrink at the underline meaning of Sami's choice of words. "And besides, what makes you think you have the right to know anything about what Dean's feeling or doing after what you did to him earlier?"

So Dean was there then, especially if Sami knew details about their fight. It was incredibly odd for the much smaller man to come across so aggressively; everyone knew that Sami was one of the most laidback and relaxed guys in the back, so for him to be chastising Roman like this was extremely disconcerting.

"Sami, I know I massively fucked up," Roman started, grimacing when he heard Sami's bitter huff of laughter and 'well that's a fucking understatement' under his breath. "Please, I need to fix this. I need to make sure that Dean's okay, or I'm never going to be able to forgive myself."

Roman's eyes were locked on the floor at Sami's feet. It was silent for what felt like the longest time, Roman's heart thumping in his chest, before Sami gave a deep sigh, the tension draining from his body.

"Just… Just wait here, okay?"

Roman could tell that Sami wasn't happy, but he didn't push his luck as the Canadian disappeared back inside his hotel room. It was difficult for Roman to resist the urge to barge in straight after him, but he managed to hold his patience, working to try and quell the nausea that was building in his gut.

After an eternity of waiting, the door swung open again.

Sami was glaring at him, still squaring off as if expecting a fight, but he nodded his head, indicating that he could come in.

"Thanks Zayn."

Roman murmured the thanks under his breath as he went to shuffle past Sami, but before he could get completely through the door, Sami rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm telling you right now: I'm not happy about this. I think you deserve to suffer personally, but I've been overruled. I'm standing right outside this door; if I hear even one word from either of you, one teeny sound that something is happening, then I won't hesitate to come back in and beat the hell out of you. Got it?"

Roman nodded his head, breathing a sigh of relief when Sami dropped his grip on Roman's shoulder, letting the taller man move past him before pulling the door shut.

Roman's eyes instantly zeroed in on the figure curled up on the couch, their back emphatically turned to him. The tension was thick in the air, the pain radiating from Dean almost unbearable, and it only became worse when Roman heard what sounded like a choked sob coming from the younger man.

"Dean…"

Roman could only breathe out his name, his guts twisting when he saw how rigid Dean had become on the couch. Dean's hand came up to wipe roughly across his face – he'd obviously been crying, Roman thought with a wince – before he turned over, finally facing into the room.

Dean hadn't changed since the moment he'd left their locker room earlier, his black hoodie still pulled tight around himself. His face was blotched and stained, his eyes red and bloodshot as another wave of tears ran down his cheeks. His bottom lip was swollen and bloody; Dean had always had a bad habit of chewing on his lips when he was nervous or upset. One of his hands was wrapped around the hollow of his throat, scratching deep lines into the sensitive flesh; another marker that Dean was nervous or insecure about something.

It hurt Roman more than he could have imagined to be the one who had made Dean so upset and uncertain.

"What do you want now?"

There was zero heat in Dean's tone; his voice was rough and raspy as his gaze fell to the floor at Roman's feet.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Roman stepped forward towards the couch; he felt his heart drop when Dean instinctively curled up, pushing himself as deep into the soft cushions as he physically could.

Dropping to his knees by Dean's head, Roman tried not to take it personally when Dean initially flinched away from his touch; steeling his resolve, Roman tried again, lightly intertwining his fingers with Dean's free hand. When Dean didn't immediately push him away or let go, Roman squeezed his fingers softly; the lack of reaction stung, but he didn't let that put him off.

"Dean, baby, I'm sorry."

Roman bit his bottom lip guiltily when Dean gave an indignant whimper.

"Sure. Sorry."

Dean's words were so quiet that Roman could barely hear them, but he could see clear as day how Dean's eyes misted up again.

"Dean, I… I don't want us to fight anymore. I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I swear on Jo's life I never meant any of it…"

Roman paused the moment he saw Dean's face harden, the younger man pushing himself up so that he sat back against the couch. His knees were still curled into himself.

"Then why did you say it, Rome? Huh? Of all the things you could've said, why that?"

Dean's words were filled with blistering heat, but Roman could still catch the wavering in his voice. This was typical Dean; all bluster and angry words designed to push someone away, but nothing more than a flimsy mask for the emotions bubbling away just beneath the rough and scarred surface.

Dean's fingernails were clawing at his neck in agitation, and Roman couldn't stop himself from prying Dean's hand away from his throat, replacing it with his own as he softly brushed his thumb in soothing circles against the ugly red scratches Dean had inflicted upon himself.

"I was angry. I know that that's a poor excuse, and I totally understand if you don't accept it, but that's it. I was tired, and angry, and if I could take back every single word then I would. I know I haven't been fair recently. I know that I've been too caught up in work and the championship and generally being an egotistical twat. I never meant to hurt you. I never, ever, meant to make you feel like shit, or make you feel like you didn't mean anything to me. You, Dean, are one of the most important things in my life, and I'm sorry for making you think otherwise."

The silence in the room was deafening. Roman could feel Dean's pulse throbbing away beneath his thumb, echoing his own thunderous heartbeat.

"You're a dick."

Dean's blunt response to Roman spilling his heart out wasn't unexpected in the slightest, and Roman couldn't help but give a small, watery smile.

"I mean it, Reigns. You're an arrogant, self-centred, self-indulgent, son of a bitch."

Dean gave a soft, frustrated sigh, running his hand roughly through his messy hair.

"But for fuck's sake, I fucking love you, you stupid bastard."

The moment the "L" word fell from Dean's lips, Roman's eyes widened. He could count on less than one hand the number of times Dean had said those three words in all of the years that they had been together.

Unable to hold himself back, Roman lurched forward, connecting their lips in a hard kiss.

Dean froze beneath Roman's fingers for the briefest of seconds, his body going rigid. Just as Roman was about to pull away though, to start frantically apologising, Dean thread his free hand tight through Roman's hair, yanking him further in to the embrace.

It wasn't a gentle caress. It wasn't a slow worship of the other.

No, this kiss was messy and desperate, both men fighting for control as their teeth clicked and their lips bruised beneath the attention of the other man. Roman sucked Dean's bottom lip between his teeth, startling a moan out of the younger man as he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss further.

Tongues tangled, their gasps for breath mingling hot and heavy in the space between them. Roman's hand stroked up the length of Dean's throat to wind through Dean's hair, cradling the back of his head as he drew Dean closer. Dean shivered as the firm promise behind Roman's touch, unable to hold back the choked whine of pleasure he gave out when Roman finally pulled away.

Roman trailed soft, open mouthed kisses along the line of Dean's jaw; laving attention on the ugly scratches marring Dean's throat, Roman moved back to settle on his knees, his fingers still brushing through Dean's hair.

There was still pain and wariness floating beneath the heat and arousal of Dean's blown pupils, still a tension that told Roman he wasn't completely forgiven just yet, but Roman had always been able to read Dean like an open book.

Pressing another affectionate kiss to Dean's lips, Roman gave a deep sigh, his voice decidedly more wrecked than it had been a few minutes beforehand.

"I love you too. Despite all the stupid shit that might happen, all the stupid arguments, I always will, okay? You mean more to me than any championship. You are my championship."

Dean gave a huff of amusement.

"Jeez, Rome, could you even get any more cheesy?"

They both flashed each other a faint smile, which very quickly became soft shared laughter, which slowly began to evaporate all of the previous tension that had hung over them since their fight.

"So," Dean started, "I'm thinking we let Sami have his room back, we head back over to ours, and I'll start thinking of all the ways you can make this up to me…"

"For once, this is something we can both definitely agree on."

After grabbing all of Dean's stuff, Dean convincing Sami that he was definitely okay and that he and Roman were going to work on patching things up, both men were on the way up to their hotel room when Roman paused.

Dean raised an eyebrow, but Roman just shook his head, giving him the keycard.

"You go and do whatever you need to do, babe, I'll be right there."

A wicked grin plastered itself across Dean's face as he grabbed the keycard, reaching behind Roman to pull him into another hungry, albeit brief, kiss.

"Trust me, you're gonna regret saying that!"

Dean's voice echoed down the corridor, and Roman allowed himself a brief grin before he pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

Message sent 01:26

We will fix it. Kissing and making up well and truly on the menu – R.

Message received 01:28

I swear if I get another vid I'm going to murder you myself – S.

Message sent 01:29

No promises bro, no promises ;) – R.

When Roman pushed open the door to their hotel room, the first thing he saw was a very naked and very malevolent Dean sprawled out on their bed.

"Come on then, Big Guy, you've got some making up to do…"

They both shot each other a grin from across the room as Roman let the door fall shut.

Roman had a serious way to go, but he was pretty damn sure he could fix this.