Hey, guys. I was feeling kinda down today, so I wrote a fluffy Ambrollins one-shot before and after Hell in a Cell. I figured I give Ambreigns so much attention, and it's time to promote one of my other strong ships. :) Warm and fuzzy feelings ahead. Enjoy~

"Looks like Roman made it home alright."

Seth Rollins stretched his arm out, holding his phone out to Dean Ambrose, who was grappling with a suitcase that refused to hold his clothes even though the small supply had fit perfectly when he first packed. Present on the screen was a glowing picture of Roman Reigns and his daughter Joelle. Both were bundled in winter sweaters and knit hats.

Dean smiled at the photo, but there was a certain shade of glum over his face that Seth didn't miss. "She's growing up so fast."

"She is."

"Looks just like him, too. Wonder if she'll grow up to be six-three and weigh two sixty-five."

"Geez, I hope not. Wouldn't want my practical niece to be able to kick my ass someday."

Dean wrenched the zipper on his travel bag shut with a victorious huff. "So," he said, pushing up to his feet. "Got any fun plans for the holidays?"

"Not really," Seth said, absorbing that same dejection from Dean. He wasn't angry at Roman for spending Christmas with his family, of course. If anything, he was a little envious that Roman had someone to spend Christmas with at all. A family.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I don't, either."

"Really? No secret lovers waiting for you in Viti Levu?"

"Even if I knew where that was, no, probably not."

"Fiji. And that's too bad."

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Eh. I deal with it. So. We stuck together, then? Or are you ditching me to go meet up with your secret dame in…Vitals Lava, or wherever that place is you said."

Seth chuckled. "Nah. Been there, done that. Kinda hard to find anyone who's willing to cope with my hectic schedule."

"Guess I get that. Ready to check out?"

"Sure. Yeah."

Seth slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and moved out of the hotel room with Dean. After checkout, they progressed through the automatic sliding doors. A flurry of winter air thwacked them, pinching every inch of exposed skin.

"Baby, it's cold outside!" Dean howled.

"Welcome to Colorado, Ambrose," Seth joked.

"Where are you off to, Rollins? You sticking to my side, or are you spending the holidays alone?"

It was hard to speak over the carrying dry air. Seth's throat was hurting already. They hadn't dressed fully prepared for these conditions. "I'll stick to your side, but can we stick together somewhere warmer, please? Freezing my ass off over here."

"Sure. Actually, there's somewhere I read about we should totally check out. Since we're in the state and all. Might be a fun experience."

Seth didn't want to question him here in the cold. "Okay. You drive."

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dean protested. The rental car was idled in a narrow parking lot outside Colorado Springs's Acacia Park. The expansive area, glinting white under a pristine layer of snow, wasn't quite as populous as Dean imagined it would be, especially for a Saturday. An ice rink was positioned in the center of the park, with a sign boasting of "Skate in the Park" season in curly letters and bold marker.

"Dean, no."

Was he seriously averse to this idea? "Why not?" Dean tried.

"I'm a talented guy, Dean, but there are a couple of things I actually can't do."

"You don't know how to ice skate?"

Seth stared out the fogging window. Dean guessed if he could take one glance at a reflection, he'd see Seth's cheeks flushing for reasons other than the chilly air.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Dean said at Seth's silence.

"I never really had the chance to learn," Seth confessed. "Wasn't a skill I thought was really necessary in life."

"Maybe not necessary, but it's hella fun."

Seth looked Dean's way at last, cheeks red as berries. "Did you just say 'hella'?"

"I'm weird. You already knew this; don't try to change the subject on me. Come on." Dean pushed the door open and stepped outside to encourage Seth to follow. "The wind died down a little bit, so we shouldn't ice over out here."

As expected, Seth followed, if not unwillingly. His breath left his mouth in thin clouds. He tightened the scarf around his neck and fastened a button he'd forgotten about on his coat. Dean scurried around the car, black DA beanie capping his unkempt hair.

"I'm still not sure about this," Seth said, eyes ricocheting off the ice rink like it was a Hell in a Cell cage.

"You're gonna do great. I won't let you down."

"Where do we even get skates?"

"Rental tent is set up over there. Stop trying to get out of this. Please?" Dean widened his eyes. He knew they did the trick on Seth every time. Icing on the cake, seal to the deal: "For me?"

Seth cast out another breath visible. "Fine. You win."

He trudged over the chilled ground, the frozen blades of brown grass, inclining into Dean in case he slipped. They collected the right-sized skates from the warm tent stationed off to the side of the rink, then drew away from the warm air to plop onto a bench. Seth was quick to pull out of his boots and tie the skates around his feet before he lost a toe to frostbite.

"You're paranoid," Dean teased him.

"Yeah, only one misstep away from cracking my skull open on the ice and bleeding out everywhere. Ending my career at the same time."

"Quit being such a baby, Rollins. You taught me how to perfect a diving knee drop, I'm gonna teach you how to ice skate. Come here."

Dean arched his arm, and Seth took hold of it with both gloved hands. It was an awkward, wobbly walk from the bench over the concrete and finally, onto the ice. His grip on Dean's arm tightened, his weight nearly bringing Ambrose topping to the cold ground.

"You can hold onto the wall if you need to," Dean said. Seth heard the smile in his voice even without looking at him. "Just don't use it as a crutch the whole time, 'cause that's not skating."

"Can't I just cling to you?"

"If you want us both to fall and crack our skulls open on the ice and bleed out everywhere, yeah."

Seth felt more comfortable—warmer, somehow, much safer—hanging onto his teacher Dean than the makeshift wall. Regardless he moved his weight, his form, onto the wall's hold in full.

"Now, follow my form," Dean instructed. "Start out like this." He pointed both feet straight forward so the blades of his skates were parallel. "Then when you're ready to move, you wanna bend your knees and lean slightly forward, like this."

Seth couldn't follow suit quite yet. He needed to understand the entire process before attempting it on his own. Perhaps it could prevent more falls than what was inevitable as a first-time skater.

Dean seemed to understand. "It's all about balance. Once you're comfortable in it, you'll move forward. Lean on one foot, then, with your other foot, push outward in a diagonal direction." Dean demonstrated, gliding forward effortlessly. "Then you use the foot you were just leaning on to push outward, and…" Again, he visually displayed his instructions, sailing forward without much speed as though skating came as naturally as breathing. It didn't look too hard.

Dean skated ahead aways, then spun around and made his way back to Seth. "Ready to give it a try?"

"Sure," Seth said. I can do this. Totally. With floundering bravery, Seth let go of the wall one hand at a time. He hunched over, taking the position Dean had exemplified when talking about balance.

"Don't lean too far forward," Dean warned.

Seth tried adjusting his posture. He felt his knees aching to hold him up. His lower half was wobbling. Dean was clearly getting a kick out of this. He wasn't hiding it well, if he was trying at all. "Seth Rollins, one of the top high-fliers in the WWE, miserably failing ice skater."

"Shut up." He was leaning too far forward again, and his arms rotated in circles in attempts to maintain balance. Dean came closer and caught Seth's fingers on the tips of his own. The warmth was back, as was his stability.

As was his rapid-beating heart.

"I won't let you fall," Dean said. The teasing tone was no longer tacked onto his words. "I promise."

Seth trusted him.

"Give it a try. Lean, angle, push."

Seth moved his right foot slightly behind him, angled it the way Dean instructed, and pushed himself forward. Slow, quite slow, but he was doing it. He was moving in the right direction.

"Good," Dean said. "Now with the left."

Seth pushed with his left foot, then his right, then the left, then right again. Families with young children were sliding past them at much greater speeds, but he was feeling confident now. He was getting it. Slow and steady.

"That's it!" Dean acclaimed. He was moving backwards as Seth pressed ahead, his fingers still curved under Seth's. "See? Nothing to it."

"Yeah, think I'm getting it," Seth said. How silly he felt for being so nervous before. Dean was right. He could spring ten feet off a turnbuckle and land frog-style on an opponent, but not move over ice on thin blades?

Maybe he wasn't nervous about learning to skate, or even falling.

Maybe he was just worried about looking foolish in front of Dean.

Why do I care what he thinks? A separate thought answered the first condescendingly. He's your best friend, idiot. You love impressing him. You love that smile…

Seth blinked. Do I?

"Want to try on your own?" Dean offered. As his grip on Seth's fingers fell limp, Seth refastened them together, all twenty.

"Not really, yet."

"Come on. You said it yourself, you're getting it."

Seth was willing to let go to learn. Just unwilling to let go of Dean.

"Fine," Dean sighed. "But at least let me turn around. I'm afraid I'm about to run some kids over."

Dean forced the removal of one hand from Seth's. He twirled graceful as a ballerina to Seth's left side, executing a 180-degree turn on the blades.

"Show off," Seth mumbled, but he couldn't suppress his grin.

Nor could Dean. "Just wait till you're comfortable enough to let go of me. I will literally skate circles around you."

Left leg push, forward, right leg push, forward. It got easier, ironically, the less he focused on the technique of each individual movement. Dean squeezed Seth's fingers as they came to a bend. By Dean's guide, the turn was smooth. Seth wasn't afraid of falling. The turning, he supposed, would be the greatest challenge, not the balance.

"You skate circles around me, I'll stick my leg out and trip you, you braggart."

"But I could die," Dean stated dramatically.

"Eh, or just get a concussion. Maybe break a bone or two. No big deal."

"Roman would murder you."

"I really don't think Roman would believe that you took me ice-skating today."

"You say that like it's an embarrassing secret."

"No, I'm not embarrassed—" Seth vindicated, but Dean giggled.

"Relax, Seth, it's all good. This can be our little secret if you want it to be."

A clenching of the fingers developed into full handholding as Dean spread his mitten over Seth's entire hand and restrengthened his clutch.

Seth couldn't even feel the cold anymore. Not with his cheeks burning so red. Not with that smile plastered on Dean's face that unfurled across the distance between them and tugged on Seth's lips as well.

Damn. Guess I was right before. I do love that smile.

One more thing not to tell Roman.

They made it around the compact ice rink twice, one skate in front of the other at a time, when Dean asked again, "Ready to try on your own?"

If I keep making excuses, he might start to feel weird. But if that were the case, wouldn't he have let go first? Or insisted a little more strongly?

Against the thought, Seth nodded. "Sure. I can give it a shot."

Dean slowly released Seth's hand on its own. He missed the warmth already. Not even his expensive gloves could match that heat.

But he was assertive, buzzing with a confident—and almost—aggressive sensation. He wanted to do well. He wanted to impress his best friend.

Right again, Rollins.

He recalled Dean's words of coaching. Bend knees, lean slightly forward, lean, angle, push, lean, angle, push. Seth moved forward a foot. Then another. Then another.

Hell yeah, I'm doing it.

Dean skated slightly ahead of him, maneuvering backwards again to keep watch on Seth. "Nice, nice," he praised. "You've got it."

Seth dared to move a bit faster. Dean was now working to keep up with him, hands crammed in the pocket of his jacket. "You're a pro. The next Michelle Kwan."

"My parents aren't from Hong Kong," Seth laughed. They were coming to the first bend.

"Love how that's your response before 'I'm not a woman'." Dean's tongue slipped between his teeth in a devilish grin.

"Well, I'm definitely not that, either," Seth said, smirking.

Oh, right. The bend. Time to turn. But Seth was approaching it with too much speed, too much force, and what he'd understand later, far too powerful of a jerk to accomplish the turn. A swing of his right foot brought his body around in a twist, and footing abandoned him. His figure collapsed, smacking against the cold ice.

Dean fell purposely to his knees beside Seth. "Whoa. You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Seth grunted. "Was unavoidable, I guess." His hands had absorbed most of the fall, and his wrists only ached with mild discomfort. "Could have been a lot worse."

"Yeah. Glad it wasn't your head." Dean offered a strong hand to get Seth securely to his feet. "You ready to go?"

"Hell no. Can't give up after one tumble. If that were my attitude, I would have quit wrestling a long time ago."

Dean beamed. His eyes reflected the ice, appearing even bluer. "That's what I like to hear."

"But I do want to make it another round without falling. Be my guide?" Seth crooked his arm, baiting Dean.

He accepted. "Sure. But just one more lap, then it's back to solo."

"Fine," Seth said.

One lap holding Dean turned into two, then three. Not once did Dean make him let go or insist it was time again to try skating alone. Instead Seth pulled away on his own to show off a bit more. Dean countered this with faster skating, as well as backwards. Seth wasn't ready to brave that quite yet.

About an hour or so passed before Seth couldn't feel his face or toes. A sign that the session had to end. Con of ice skating. Risk of frostbite and paralysis just to have a good time.

Seth got an idea. "Hey, did you happen to read up on any good coffee places around here?"

Dean's bottom lip jutted out. Seth had the sudden strange urge to take it in a hold. The hell is wrong with me? "No, but in places like this, there's usually a Starbucks on every corner."

Seth wrinkled his nose. "No thanks. Let's go local instead."

"Fine by me."

The attendant at the skate rental tent informed them of a local coffeehouse a couple of blocks away. It felt strange to walk in boots again instead of skates. Seth was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to keep holding Dean's hand. Don't scare him off, freak. You have to work with this guy. Every day.

But can't lie. Wondering how he feels, if it's anything like the way I'm feeling right now.

The Perk Downtown was jammed with cold patrons and frantic employees. A fireplace cackled in the corner. Soft jazzy Christmas music was almost drowned out by the crowd. Seth and Dean had enough time standing in line to decide what they wanted. Seth reached for his wallet, but Dean stopped him—and stopped his heart—by touching his arm. "I got it."

"Nah, this one's on me."

"It's cool, dude."

"I seriously don't mind."

"Can I help you?" the young barista behind the counter asked.

Seth moved ahead of Dean, intending to pay. His wrists were still hurting from earlier. "Hi, could I please get a hot chocolate, tall, a white mocha, also tall, and two apple strudels?"

"Absolutely. Can I get you anything else?"

"That'll do it." As Seth handed over his credit card, Dean smacked his hand, sending the card descending to the floor.

Seth stared at Dean in disbelief. "The hell?"

"Quick," Dean said, slapping a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. "Use this before he gets his card back."

The confused barista accepted the twenty. Seth grudgingly deposited the credit card back into his wallet. "You're a freak."

"Hey, you're welcome for the coffee, Rollins."

They received their drinks after another brief wait, and they were able to snag a table close to the door. A cold gust brushed over Seth's back every time someone entered or left the shop, but it was easy to ignore. He stripped of his winter coat, crammed his gloves into the pockets and folded it over the back of his chair. Dean cast his coat aside, revealing the gray sweater beneath the faux leather. His hands were red and a bit wet, Seth realized as he peeled off his gloves.

"What happened?"

"Cheap material, that's what," Dean said, giving a dirty look to the gloves he'd pushed to the edge of the table. "Gotta invest in some good ones. I mean, it is December."

"Or you could just steal mine."

"Or I could just take you ice skating again. You seemed pretty set on holding my hands at all times."

Seth challenged the self-consciousness with a rebuttal. "Hey, I could have let go at any time. You didn't push me more than once or twice to take on that ice on my own."

"I tried, and the minute I did, you fell."

"You promised you wouldn't let me fall." Seth raised an eyebrow.

Dean folded his hands into one another. "Excuse me for having confidence in you when you weren't ready."

"Hey, I rocked it on my own for a while."

"So what changed?"

"I got distracted," he defended.

"By?"

Those eyes. Those lips. The miss of your hand in mine. Take your pick. Seth pressed his lips together. None of them seemed like valid answers.

Dean wanted an answer.

"Just…not wanting to totally screw up in front of you. A paradox, really, in that concentrating so hard on not wanting to mess up made me mess up totally."

"Seth? You're flustered."

"Am not." I so am.

"Are too."

"Am not."

Dean's head rolled back. "We're not really having an am-not/are-too argument, are we?"

"Are not."

"I'm not biting."

"Ah. Almost had you there."

Dean chuckled softly. He pushed hair from his eyes. "How are your hands?"

"They're okay. Why?"

"The fall?"

"Oh, yeah. No, they're alright. Wrists kinda hurt, though."

"Let me see."

Butterflies did cartwheels in his stomach.

"You a doctor now or something?" Stop making jokes and just let him do his thing, idiot. Seth surrendered both hands to Dean, who held them in a gentle yet steady grip. He inspected them up top, beneath, and all over, both hands, several times.

Seth felt confrontational again. "Dammit, Dean, how do you do that?"

"Do what?" Dean asked innocently.

"You know. This. To me." Seth did his best to gesture towards his face with Dean's hands still entrapping his. Surely Dean could discern the flush in his cheeks, the smile in his eyes.

"I don't know, Rollins, guess I could interrogate you about the same thing."

Seth was surprised. "Why? What do I do to you?"

Dean released Seth's hands to take a sip of his mocha. Seth nibbled on the crumbly apple strudel.

"You're my best friend. We've got it solid between us, you and me." He wagged a finger back and forth between them. "It's like, you know me. Better than anyone. You always know just what to say to make me smile, to piss me off, to tease me, push my buttons, to get me all…"

"Flustered?" Seth tried.

Dean scoffed. "Not even."

"Yeah. Sure. I totally believe you."

"Well, so?" Dean challenged. "I get you all flustered."

"Sure, you do. But I'm not so arrogant that I won't ever admit to it."

"You were denying it not a minute ago."

"Fine. I'll admit to it now, then. You make me flustered."

"Ha." Dean's eyes fell from Seth's to the marble table. "Guess we both get to each other in that way, then."

"Good to know." Seth was feeling overly warm. He avoided his coffee for a minute longer, instead continuing to take small bites from his strudel. Didn't want to risk overheating.

"You know, of all the Superstars I could have gotten stuck with over winter break…I'm glad it was you," Dean said.

"And of all the Superstars to not have a hot mistress waiting for him at home, I'm glad it's you."

Dean snorted. "Gee, thanks. I'd love to have a hot mistress waiting for me at home."

"Too bad it's just me."

"Nah. I count myself pretty lucky with you."

His insides were swelling like a balloon. "Wonder if Roman wouldn't mind spending an extra week or two at home with his daughter."

"You don't miss him?" Dean questioned.

"Of course I do. But it'll be interesting to see what else we can get accomplished while he's gone. More little secrets."

"Secrecy, deception, lies…this ain't healthy for the team."

"Neither is holding all this inside."

"True." Dean set the coffee cup on the table and readjusted his beanie. His eyes were out the window now, watching the snow fall. Seth couldn't take his eyes off Dean. "Kinda fun to think about. Where we can go. What we can do."

"Maybe you can teach me how to skydive next."

"Let's wait until the spring or summer on that one, okay?"

Seth chortled. "Yeah, like that makes a different way up in the atmosphere."

"We'll keep it simple. We've got all winter break."

"Yep. Just the two of us."

"Stuck together."

"Damn shame."

"You know it. I'm sick of your face already."

Seth's face broke into a stupid grin. Oh, God, I'm in trouble.

Their hands unconsciously found their way back to each other on the table, and their fingers braided together. Dean and Seth watched the snow fall outside together in silence, their own silence, a world that existed outside this coffeehouse and the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season.

As long as I have Dean, doesn't matter what world I'm living it. He'll always be there to make sure I don't fall—and help me up if I do.

Every time.

Seth counted on it.