Ugh... okay, I wrote this a while ago but never posted it since these kinds of fanfiction seldom get much readers and feedback. But please don't hesitate to prove me wrong ;)
However, I feel like I need to post it now.

Let me tell you this, even if it's a spoiler (but if you read the summary, you know it already): this is NOT a death fic, even if it seems to be one. Keep on reading it to the end and you'll know what I mean ;)

So, nothing much to say but enjoy (at least I hope you will :).

PS: For those who are waiting for the second chapter to Chocolate Seas, I promise I'll hurry. I've been lying flat with the flu in the past days and my head was too empty to finish anything at all :3

The rain trails down over his face in crystalline rivulets, falling from his lashes, running down his cheeks… like the tears he can't shed. His world… it has shattered. His life… there is no life anymore. His life is gone. It has… it has died… with him…

Hour after hour the tries to stay awake, fights against the leaden exhaustion that threatens to pull him down but he can't sleep, doesn't want to because every time he closes his eyes, he is back. Back at that agonzing moment. Hears himself say those three words. Words he has said so often before but never before with the meaning they carried that moment. Not like that. Not… like that… And he sees the soft smile die on Dean's lips…

The last thing he can remember before his world reduced to a ball of noise, blinding lights and agony is Dean's arm across his chest, pressing him back into the seat…

Seconds? Minutes…? Until the blackness had faded, giving way to a buzzing in his head… and pain. But it hand't been the kind of pain that resulted of being trapped in twisted, torn and crushed metal that held on to him like a vise. The pain that devoured him had much worse.

Screwing his eyes shut, he lifts his hands to his head and presses their heels against his temples to block out the memory that again crashes down on him but he's too weak and his pain is too strong, leaving him helpless against it…

His world is oddly tilted and he lies pressed against the car door and the roof in an awkward angle. He tries to move, inch out of the spot he is in but he can't. Something refuses to let go of his legs and holds his upper body pinned against the door. A groan passes his lips and it sounds far away to his own ears, dulled by a buzzing in his head and there is a tiny voice somewhere in that noise that tells him that he should be howling in pain, but all he feels is pressure.

What the fuck… what has happened? He tries hard to remember but his brain refuses to work, leaves him lost in spinning thoughts with no pictures that could tell him what was going on. There is only a bright light and a deafening noise…

Breathing another groan he cracks his eyes open, tries to but it is almost too difficult to do so, almost as if a part of him fights against it, as if that part doesn't want to see. He struggles… and eventually he wins.

It's dark around him except for a weak for a somehow broken light right in front of him. It takes him a few seconds to file the information his eyes are showing him. Branches… leaves… sticking through… he blinks… there should be the glass. He knows there should be glass, but there is none. Only an opening over what looks like a car dashboard. But that, too, isn't looking right. It is… broken? His gaze sweeps over the broken image in front of him and it is now that he realizes that it is the dashboard that holds him trapped. It should hurt. It doesn't. Still not.

And then he realizes that there is a branch as thick as an arm sticking through the opening were the windshield has been and it is reaching him, reaches past him in fact. It is passing between his arm and his side and as he lifts a hand he can feel that it has missed his upper body by a hairbreadth. The wood bores into the backrest of his seat and it it what pins him against the door.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he tries again to remember and while he does, he the buzzing sowly fades and gives way to something else. A strained and unsteady, wet sound. And… a moan?

And suddenly there is a warm wetness on the side of his face, trailing down. A metallic taste on his tongue. Blood…

And then it all comes back to him in a rush, the impact of it making his heart stop beating for a long moment.

They have been on their way back from a night out together, heading for Dean's place… and that there had been that other car and…

The crash…

"Dean?" he rasps, turning his head as far as possible in an attempt to look over and up to the driver's side, to Dean but he can barely move. The car is lying tilted on the co-driver's side and half-way turned over to its roof and half of his own weight rests on his shoulder and neck. "Dean?!" he says louder, panic flooding him.

The sound he gets in reply makes his skin crawl, sickens him to the gut and it makes him fight once more to move somehow. With a hiss he braces against the branch and reaches out for a hold on the rim of the broken windshield and pushes, pulls, twists as far as he can until his eyes finally fall on his friend.

His mind though refuses to accept what he sees there. He feels a twisted sound of horror crawl up his throat but it gets stuck there, chokes him. Just like him Dean is trapped in the twisted frame of the car but… there is another thick branch reaching through the broken windshield.

The branch… it has speared Dean…

Paralysed in shock and horror he watches his friend claw feebly at the branch that has pierced through his belly, holds him pinned in his seat. Blood. There is too much blood.

"Dean…?" he chokes out somehow but Dean doesn't react.

In the few light that fills the space in the car he can see in pain distorted features and blood, trickling from a big gash on Dean's forehead and from his lips. And there is more blood as his friend coughs weakly. A wet sound.

He begins to struggle then, hard, frantically fighting to get free somehow, somehow, punching the broken dashboard and pushing against the branch that holds him down but it is of no avail. He wants to scream but all that passes his lips is a breathless wail. He fights… until he has no strength left.

"No… please, no…" he breathes in despair.

With a shaking hand he reaches out to Dean, touches the other man's face and again he whispers his name. A too long second… before Dean finally reacts and meets his gaze. The usually sharp grey eyes are glazed over in pain, dull and tired. Too weak.

Dean blinks slowly, once twice before he whispers: "Rome…" Despite the agony that is written all over his face Roman can see a soft little smile tug at his friend's lips, a shaky one but there and it tears at Roman's heart. "You… 'kay…?"

Roman nods and replies: "Yeah. I'm okay." He can feel the other man press his face against his palm, or maybe he is just to weak to hold his head up any longer. Roman doesn't know and he doesn't want to know it. And then he hears a faint sound that is coming closer. Sirens. Brushing his thumb over a bloody cheek he adds: "Cavalry in coming, Dean. You gotta hang on, you hear me?"

Dean's right hand slips from the branch. Fingertips touch Roman's cheek. A barely there touch and Roman lifts his head as far as possible for more contact, silently begging the paramedics to hurry.

"Rome…"

Not even a mere breath.

Bringing his other hand up to the one that is touching his face, Roman takes a deep breath and tried his best to keep his voice from breaking as he says: "I'm here, Dean. Don't do something stupid now, okay?" And the panic in Roman flares brightly as the other man's eyes close. "No, nono, come on, open your eyes. Stay with me, Dean, stay with me." But Dean's eyes stay closed. His breathing becomes shallow. Numbness spreads throughout Roman as he understands… "I love you," he says and this time his voice breaks.

The soft smile on Dean's lips brightens for a heartbeat… before it fades.

Time stands still as Roman watches his friend's body go limp, the hand that is still braced against the wood slipping off and the one that is touching Roman's cheek, it feels too lifeless for him to bear.

It is now that the pain comes, glaring and hot pain, blinding bright… ripping through him. Devouring him.

And Roman… screams…

A twisted sound tears from his throat as he slams his hands down to the ground as the pain overwhelms him once more. Again and again… and again… Dean leaves him… His fingers dig into the wet and cold earth and it is how he remains, frozen in time and prisoner in his own world of agony. The rain is still falling down heavily, drenching the world with its cold touch, running down the cowering, shivering form.

"I should have told you earlier," he whispers, the barely there sound almost drowning in the noise of the rain.

Minutes? A hour? Longer? He has no idea, has lost track of time ever since it has happened. He feels numb, but even that numbness can't take the pain away. Dean has left a void in him. One that can't be filled.

It takes him a while to realize that someone is there, kneeling at his side, that a hand is there on his shoulder. That his name is called quietly. He doesn't look up to see who it is. He knows it. He know the touch.

"Thought that I would find you here," Seth says hushed as he tilts his head a little to catch Roman's gaze.

Worry is weighing heavy in his voice.

Roman doesn't look at him. And he doesn't answer.

"Roman?"

Silence.

"Your mom says that you haven't spoken ever since…" he hears his friend murmur, feels the hand on his shoulder brush over to his neck to settle in its back in a gentle touch. He keeps quiet. He knows that it's not fair, but still he does. "You can't stay here. Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

The hand on his neck is pulled back and a blick later he feels Seth slip his arms around him, urging him to get up but he refuses to move.

"No," he rasps, his voice complaining after not being used for days.

Seth stops then, is silent for a moment or two before he smoothes a hand over Roman's hair.

"Dean wouldn't want you to sit here. You'll only get sick," he says and if possible the worry is even heavier in his voice, so much that it makes the usually light voice thick, grave.

Roman knows that Seth is suffering, too, and that his duty as Seth's friend would be to be there for him, that they maybe should try to get over this together, but he can't. He just can't.

"Leave me alone, Rollins," he snaps weakly and hopes that Seth understands.

"Rome…"

His fingers dig deeper into the wet ground because it's not Seth's voice he hears wrapped around this single words but Dean's.

"Go," he forces out somehow, his chest constricting to the point he can't breathe anymore for a moment.

A sigh. Sad and forlorn.

"Rome, he's dead and…"

"Don't… don't say that…"

"But he is dead and it's not gonna bring him back if you keep sitting here and freeze to death. I miss him, too and I… it hurts. I know how much it hurts, Rome. But I miss you and I'm scared that I'll lose you, too."

Begging. Seth is begging him… not to leave him alone, too, and he owes him to be there for him, just like Seth is there for him now.

I'm sorry that I'm letting you down is what lies on his tongue.

"I… I love him," is what he says instead, his voice breaking at the words.

"I know," Seth says quietly, reaching out to pull his friend into an embrace.

"No, no you don't," Roman chokes out, weakly fighting his friend. "I'm in love with him and I can't… I don't know how to go on." A sob falls from his lips. "God, he can't be dead…"

Another heavy sigh as Seth inches closer to him, wrapping his arms around him to hold him safe and tight, but the bit of warmth the other man's body provides gets lost in the freezing coldness in his heart that holds him prisoner.

"Don't be dead, Dean…" Roman whispers. "Please don't be dead… you can't leave me alone here…. please…"

And then… he gives in, leans heavily against his friend as he starts to tremble uncontrollably, the tears that have refused to fall now burning hot in his eyes, spilling over to mingle into the cold rain that washes down his face.

There is a hand in his hair, soothing, and a voice, saying his name in deepest worry…

… Rome… Rome…?

"Rome!"

A hard shake makes his eyes fly open wide and with a gasp he reaches out for a hold as his world shifts and he falls… right into a pair of arms which close around him, preventing him from falling... out of the car?

"What the hell, man?" he hears a familiar rough voice ask and it is now that he realizes that he's staring right into… into Dean's eyes.

Dean?

His heart stumbles in his chest, misses a few beats. And hurts.

… Dean…

"You okay?" Dean asks mildly confused, a frown appearing on his face.

Dean.

"I know my name, thank you," his friend adds and the confusion seems to grow. "And could you, you know, either get out of the car or sit back on your seat? You're heavy, you know?"

"Dean?" Roman breathes in disbelief because there is Dean, hunching there beside the open car door and those arms wrapped around him were Dean's.

"Still, yeah," Dean mutters and shoots him a raised brow. "You getting money for saying my name? And now move your ass or else I'll let you drop."

Roman doesn't think as he more falls out of the car than climbing out, still held up by Dean's arms and all he can do is stare at the other man, even as he is steered backwards and carefully leaned against the car.

His heart starts hammering in his chest, bringing a queazy feeling along. This is Dean standing there, looking at him as if he has grown a second head. But Dean is dead. He's seen him die, has been sitting at his grave and…

"Did someone slip something into your drink, Reigns?" A hand is waved right in front if his face. He catches it off, closes his fingers around the other man's hand in a firm hold and the hand, it is warm and… and alive. "Uhm… Rome? You're worrying me here, you know?"

This can't be real, he thinks and while he does, he prays, begs that he's wrong, because the hand in his feels so real.

With a twisted little sound that is somewhere between a sob and a laughter he brings Dean's hand to his chest, cradles it there with both of his while he screws his eyes shut. The tears which sting in them fall nevertheless.

He feels Dean move after a few seconds, feels him step up. Feels a hand in his hair and with a shuddering breath Roman leans in and rests his forehead against his friend's shoulder. Once more whispering Dean's name, he wraps one of his arms around the other man to hold him close and everything in him narrows on the feeling of Dean breathing in his embrace, of his faint heartbeat, on his warmth… on Dean being alive and here with him.

"Rome?" Dean rumbles eventually, soothing, softly. "What's wrong, big man?"

Not letting go, not moving a bit Roman breathes: "You're not dead."

Confused quietness for a moment.

Then: "Uhm, apparently, no, I'm not. Care to tell me what…?"

"Where are we?" Roman asks then, still not moving an inch… because he's afraid the if he does, that he will wake up and everyting has only been a dream.

That he will wake up still sitting at Dean's grave.

"Still on our way to my house? That was until you started to tremble and make odd sounds beside me," Dean huffs, gently tugging at Roman's hair to make him lift his head and look at him.

It's the comment about them still being on their way to Dean's house that actually makes Roman meet the other man's gaze again and Dean uses the chance to step back as far as Roman's arm lets him.

"Still on our way to your house?" Roman parrots breathless.

Dean's eyes narrow, his brows furrowing as his gaze roams Roman's face.

"Yeah? We've been out and you said that you want to crash on my couch? Remember?" he hears the other man murmur. "You dozed off during the drive and suddenly started to, you know, doing strange things and I stopped to wake you." He feels oddly detached as he takes a look around and sees that they are standing on the side of a road. That road. That part of the road… it has happened. "And what about the me not being dead? What the fuck are you talking about?"

He still holds Dean's hand to his chest and his other now finds to the front of his friend's shirt, his fingers twisting into the fabric while he locks gazes with him again. The tears come back to his eyes as he does, but he couldn't care less. Dean opens his mouth, but no words come over his lips. Instead his brows furrow once more.

"Somewhere along this part of the road we'll have an accident on the way to your place and you… you'll die," Roman chokes out eventually. "We need to drive back and…"

Confusion crossed his friend's features, replaced by disbelief and the furrowed brows rose to his hairline.

"Wow, Roman Reigns is going all Final Destination on me," Dean snorts then, shaking his head. "No idea what they put into your drink, but I suggest we'll get your ass into bed quickly, man. You need to sleep the shit off."

With that he gently but insistently tries to pry Roman's hands off of him somehow.

"No, we need to go back and…" Roman urges, refusing to let go of Dean, who seems to be torn between being worried and losing his patience.

"The fuck we'll head back, Reigns. I'm fucking tired," Dean says sharply, finally managing to get rid of his hands. "Listen, we'll get back into the car now and in less than twenty minutes you'll be sleeping like a baby. And tomorrow the world will be fine and dandy."

Dean steps away from him then and starts to walk around the car, back over to the driver's side. Roman moves before he actually knows what he's doing, sitting back on his seat and leaning over to pull the car key out, before getting out of the car again to walk away from it in big strides. He doesn't come far though.

A hand grabs his shirt after a few meters, tugging hard at it to stop him. A second hand closes around his wrist. Dean looks pissed but Roman is determined to stop their ride home right here and now even if it means to fight this out with Dean. No matter how. And it is what makes him do it.

His free hand comes up to Dean's hair, grabbing a fistful of the messy blond locks to bring their lips together in a rough and desperate kiss.

A surprised gasp slips past Dean's lips and Roman uses the chance to deepen the kiss, meeting his friend's tongue in a fierce battle. The hold around his wrist vanishes immediately as the other man's hands shoot up to Roman's shoulders, pushing him away but Roman doesn't let go of the other man's hair, brings his other arm around the leaner frame instead. Seconds pass. The kiss… it doesn't break and eventually the struggling lessens and the pushing becomes a cautious… pulling.

Roman feels the change but before he can really understand it, the night around them lightens up as a car passes them, the light fading as fast as it has come… and suddenly the night is torn apart by the sound of screetching tires and the deafening sound of colliding metal…

x

Three hours later he is sitting on the couch in Dean's living room, with his forearms braced on his knees and his hands dangling between them. Trembling. His hands are trembling. He is trembling. His eyes are fixed on an invisible spot on the floor. He is sitting here and Dean is in his bedroom, alive and well and he still can't believe it.

Dean hasn't spoken a single word to him ever since those two cars collided not far from them on that street. The kiss broke at the noise of the accident and Roman can still see those wide, shocked eyes stare at him as Dean understood. Dean called the police then and soon after the police and the paramedics arrived. And Dean still only gazed him with that wide eyed stare. And after the police had taken their evidences, they got back into Dean's car and drove here, got into the house and for a too long moment they stood in the hall... just looking at each other. The silence between them has been thick. Odd.

He had wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in his throat and Dean… he watched as Dean opened his mouth… but he also said nothing, turned around instead and made his way towards the bedroom.

And now Roman is sitting here alone in the nightly painted living room, trembling uncontrollably because everything had crashed down on him in one merciless wave. Everything. The fear, the pain and the panic, the desperation the nightmare has left behind in him. The shock. The confusion to see Dean alive. And a relief he couldn't describe in words. The impact had been so massive that he found himself kneeling on the floor in the middle of the living room, hunched forward with his arms wrapped around himself without knowing how he even got there.

Helpless little puffs of air pass his lips in something close to a laughter, while tears run down his face. He is thankful and he is happy. He really is. And he is scared of what the morning will bring. What will be when Dean leaves the shock behind?

The sound of naked feet on parquet, slowly approaching him, makes him freeze but it can't stop the trembling. Not far behind him the sound stops.

"What was that?" he hears the other man ask slowly, carefully almost. "What the fuck has happened tonight, Roman?"

Definitely careful now and heavily confused. Roman can't blame him, really not. He has to swallow hard against the lump in his throat.

His voice is unfamiliar small to his own ears as he replies: "I don't know. All I know is that you're alive and that's all that matters."

Again he hears the other man come closer until he can see him from the corner of his eye, standing there with his hands closing to fists, opening, closing to fists again… as if he can't decide whether to sit down or go away again.

"Ya know, you scared the shit out of me back on that street, Reigns. I've never seen you like this before and then you go and, ya know, tell me that we'll have an accident if we don't drive back and that I'll die… That was heavy shit, man. For a moment I really thought you've lost your mind."

"You haven't been the only one who was scared, Dean. Okay?"

And then Dean sits down, mirroring the way Roman sits there. Roman can feel the other man's warmth, can smell his scent, that dry scent of sandalwood and leather.

"What happened in your dream?" Dean wants to know although he doesn't sound too sure about it as glancing over to him. "How did I die?"

Roman can't stop the trembling from getting stronger, so strong that his hands aren't trembling but shaking. The cushion dips as Dean scoots closer, comes to sit so close that their shoulders touch and gingerly he slips an arm behind Roman's, lays his hand on his trembling ones. It dims the trembling a little but most of all it calms his poor little heart that still aches from the images his nightmare has etched into his memory.

"We had an accident and when I came round again, the car was lying half-way on its roof. I was trapped," he says in a faraway voice, just above a whisper. "And you…" he continues but trails off immediately as the images show up much too vividly in his mind. He can even taste… blood. He has to breathe deeply against a sudden sickness. "A branch speared you. There was so much blood..." He falls silent again as the sickness gets worse. Dean's hand closes around his own in a firm hold. "You died and I could do nothing. I sat at your grave dammit I… you were gone, okay? I sat at your fucking grave and thought I'd lost you forever, Dean, I… I…"

Quietness and Roman notices that the shaking has subsided to a faint trembling again.

"But I am not dead," Dean rumbles.

"No."

"Thanks to you."

A light note lies in the rough voice that makes him look over to the other man and he is met by soft eyes, warm eyes… with a faint hint of lingering worry but somehow it's comforting, soothing to see it, because it means that nothing has changed between them.

"I… yeah…" he breathes and watches as Dean stands up, not letting go of his hand though.

Gently pulling him up, too, Dean murmurs: "There's a bit of space left in my bed."

It is all he says. There is silence as they make their way to Dean's bedroom, still holding hands, as they climb into the bed and lie in the almost darkness. Close. Again their shoulders are touching as they are both lying on their backs and he needs it, needs to feel Dean to make himself believe that this is real and slowly, oh so very slowly he calms down, being surrounded by that scent that he is addicted to for so long already and by the presence of the man who owns his heart. But as the turmoil in him calms down, one thing stays and makes itself known.

I should have told you earlier…

And now that he has the chance to tell Dean that he loves him, he can't. He can't look at his friend and simply say it.

I love you.

Three words which have the power to create heaven… or hell. What if he says it and Dean tells him to fuck off? He has felt that he kissed back… eventually… there on that street, but what if he has only imagined it? Or…

"Why did you kiss me?" Dean's voice is very quiet but in the reigning quietness it is almost deafening loud. "Just because you wanted to stop me?"

He opens his mouth to give an answer without really knowing what to say, and so what passes his lips is: "I… no but… it's difficult."

The mattress bounces a little as Dean turns over onto his side, facing him and from the corner of his eye Roman can see the other man look at him and even in this dim light he can see the question burning in his eyes.

"Rome… why did you kiss me?"

A breath. And it's carrying a please. It is what causes him look over to Dean and there is not only this question burning in the other man's eyes, but something heavy and raw, too. Something he has never seen in them before.

His heart speaks before his mind can stop his lips from forming the words, makes him whisper back: "Because I love you." His breath hitches in his throat as he realizes that he has just said it. There is a glint in Dean's eyes that he can't read, can't file what kind of an emotion it is. This is Dean… who can as much be an open book as he can be Pandora's Box. "I don't expect anything, Dean. I'm thankful that you're okay and that we're still friends."

If we are still friends… now that I've said it…

Quietness.

Roman tenses up a little and closes his eyes as Dean raises his hand… A touch on the side of his face, hesitantly… soft… so different from the ones they usually share.

It's reassurance. And it feels like more.

The touch creates a tingling at the base of his skull, one that flows along his spine as his name is being whispered and he opens his eyes again to look at the other man in wonder, waiting what would happen next.

Dean's eyes seem somewhat distant, the shadow of a smile on his lips a bit sad as he says: "I'm not sure whether I should find it funny or sad, but… all those years I've felt more for you and every day I fought it down for the sake of our friendship. You are a pretty good pretender, Roman Reigns. If I had known that it's not a one-sided thing…"

And while Dean speaks, Roman can see a change in the other man's features, giving way to the most vulnerable expression he has ever seen on Dean's face. There is uncertainty, confusion in those eyes, fear even.

The world stills for the longest time and a breath he hasn't even noticed being stuck in his throat escapes his lips. He has to close his eyes again briefly as he tries to comprehend what is just happening. His heart, it trips a few times before it starts to run and jump in his chest in and happiness and love.

Dean... he wants him, too.

The fingers on his face smooth over this cheek to tuck a strand of black hair behind his ear.

"You're a pretty good kisser, ya know?" Dean smirks.

"The kiss was desperate, not good," Roman can't help but snort, both over the whole situation and the fact that Dean found that accident of a kiss good.

"Well, if that was not a good kiss, then I can't wait for a good one." Roman blinks at him. And Dean quirks an eyebrow at him after a moment of just gazing at each other again. "Uhm… this would be the moment where you're supposed to kiss me, ya know?"

Hesitantly, almost shy, he lifts a hand to Dean's face, cupping his cheek and Dean closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. This Dean... he has never seen this side of Dean before and Roman's heart cries out in joy and he leans in, hesitantly though as if a wrong step on this new territory can destroy everything, and buries his fingers in the blond hair to gently pull Dean in. Dean's hand brushes down over his chest, feeling, mapping on its way down, travelling over to wrap around his waist to mold their bodies together. And they fit perfectly…

The memory of the pain the night has left behind in him subsides as Dean's warmth enwrappes him, seeps into him... as his scent invades his nostrils… and it's making him feel warm and fuzzy.

With a sigh he places a simple and innocent little kiss on the other man's lips and a second, brushing his lips over slowly opening ones. He feels a shy lick on his bottom lip that makes him smile into the touch. Dean is testing this new territory, too, and the shyness is… indescribably cute. His heart settles for an utterly happy bouncing, pumping endorphins throughout his body. He floats.

They float. Together.

In the pure need to feel more he hooks a leg over Dean's, pressing even closer as he gently nips at Dean's bottom lip, drawing a gasp from him that he swallows down as he seals their lips in a firm kiss. Tongues meet in a duel for dominance but Dean wanted him to kiss him and so he does exactly that, angling his head further to practically devour that sweet, hot mouth in all soft brushes and hard strokes, stealing the tiny moans he's graced with away… and Dean surrenders with a pleased hum that is rumbling in his chest, vibrating through Roman. It's chasing goosebumps in waves all over his body, this feeling… But then the kiss changes, becoming slow, thorough and deep, so gentle, yet demanding and so infinitely tender and loving that a sweet ache blooms in his chest.

Eventually they have to part as the need for air becomes too strong but Roman can't help but steal another peck from Dean's lips to taste the bright smile he finds there.

Too damn tasty…

"Okay," Dean says a bit breathless. "I admit, this was a good kiss."

Nodding softly, Roman replies: "Yeah, it was."

He runs a finger along his… lover's… jaw, feeling one day old beard stubble against his digit, rough yet soft. Just like Dean.

Addictive.

"No more Final Destination, okay?" Dean mumbles and his eyes sweep over Roman's face for a second or two, before he moves to turn over onto his other side, pulling Roman's arm around his middle and Roman follows, inching closer until he is spooning him from head to toe.

Dipping his head forward a bit, he nuzzles his face against the blond locks, inhales deeply to get his fill on the beloved scent. And still there is a small part of him that prays that this isn't just a dream. Maybe that's why his hand goes into business for itself as it seeks his lover's wrist, his fingers settling over the pulse point.

"Rome?"

"I just… I need to feel it."

"It?" Dean murmurs mildly confused.

"That you're alive."

Freeing his wrist, Dean puts his hand over Roman's, entwining their fingers before settling their joint hands in the middle of his chest. There is a faint but steady beating against Roman's palm, the feeling of it soothing.

"See? I am alive. Everything is okay," Dean says. "And now try to sleep. I need you fresh and fit tomorrow."

"Is that so?" Roman mumbles, closing his eyes as he concentrates on the heart beat. "Why?"

He can hear a smirk in the other man's voice as he replies: "Because I intend to spend the whole day on fucking you raw."

"You mean on me fucking you raw, Ambrose," Roman snorts, bucking his hips lightly to underline his words.

"Nope."

"Mark my words, you'll beg me to fuck you."

"U-hu, sure, dream on, Reigns. I suggest you shut your big mouth now and sleep," Dean grumbles half-heartedly while inching deeper into the embrace.

"Dean?"

"Sleep."

"Promise that you're not gone tomorrow…" he says so quietly that he's not sure if Dean even understands them.

But Dean's hitching breath tells him that he does, just like the tightening of his lover's hold on his hand.

"Promise. Not gonna leave you, Rome. Okay? Not gonna happen…"

Dean's words trail off in the quietness of the night and Roman keeps them close to his heart because Dean never breaks his promises. Never.

Holding on to those words and the feeling of the steady heart beat against his palm he settles against the firm body that lies pressed against him and lets go and allows sleep to come to him because he knows that Dean is there to keep the nightmares away…

- Fin -

So? Good? Bad? Tell me :)