A/N: Still no internet, but I'm hoping to change that in a week or two. So updates are still slow... Thank you all for your patience with me, and I do hope you enjoy this latest installment!

Chapter 6

They didn't have many options for celebrating once they finished the show, and Dean was sick of the nightclubs.

So they'd found a place called Diamond Billiard's.

The interior was warm and ambient when they stepped in, and smelled like home and BBQ sauce. The sound of cue sticks smacking pool balls was inviting. A house band was playing some kind of grunge-New Age-ish number that Dean could dig with a few more beers in him.

Roman led the way to a booth smack dab in the middle of all the action.

The four of them instantly paired up and sat down like couples on a double date: Dean and Ro. Seth and Sasha.

"I hope Diamond's is ready for me, because I am starving," Seth punctuated as he glossed over the menu.

Sasha pulled out her cell phone. "Hold up, let me get a pic for Instagram." She pressed her cheek against Seth's and gave a big smile. "Caption: chilling with my boo."

"Oh, so I'm your boo now?"

Sasha flicked his chin. "You know you're my boo."

Dean would say something about their PDA, but he couldn't peel his eyes off the monitor. Some old guy who touted himself as a professional billiards' player made a shot. But that wasn't what Dean's mind was focusing on.

Holy shit, he'd just fucked Randy Orton.

He could still feel the Viper beneath him, all taut muscles and smooth skin. And even though he'd showered after their encounter, he swore he could still smell Randy's scent clinging to him.

It'd been good. So much so he'd almost been tempted to go another round, but they'd already taken a gamble doing it there in the first place.

Strange thing was, after that incredible sex session, Randy had pulled Dean against him, attempting a postcoital kiss, but for some reason Dean had pushed him away. The confusion on Randy's face had mirrored his own, actually, because he was confused as fuck by his own actions. He'd been feeling Randy. Right?

Trying to play it off best he could, Dean had lied about hearing footsteps outside the door and headed into his own separate shower to clean up. Randy had been gone by the time he got out.

"Dean."

Dean glanced up at the sound of Roman's voice beside his ear. His best friend's face was concerned. "What's up?"

"I asked if you were ready to order."

Dean looked around at the curious expressions on Seth's and Sasha's faces, and the patient one on their waiter's. "Oh, shit, sorry."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Where's your head?"

"Up my ass, apparently," Dean deadpanned. He scrolled through the menu.

"We all got a round of beers," Roman explained. "Seth and Sasha are getting the loaded nachos for an appetizer. Wanna share some hot wings with me?"

Dean bit his lip, stifling the urge to be the guy to make the "date" joke. He nodded.

The waiter left them alone once he got their orders.

Sasha's pretty dark eyes scanned the room. "You know I've never played pool before." She gave Seth a knowing smirk.

Seth looked incredulous. "Never? Get outta here."

"Nope." She stood up, then. "Why don't you come and show me before our food gets here?"

"Well we can't have that, now can we? Not if you're gonna be my girl, at least. My girl's gotta be awesome at pool." Seth took her proffered hand, throwing them a lascivious grin as he let her lead him to an empty table.

Roman chuckled. "That guy is a mess."

Dean nodded, though he'd missed half of the conversation. He raked a hand through his hair, fidgeted with his fingers, and tapped his foot against the floor like he was impatient.

"Is everything good with you?"

Dean abruptly turned to meet Roman's concerned gaze. "What's that?"

"You seem like you're out of it, dude. You okay?"

Dean nodded, waving a dismissive hand. "Everything's good, brother." Everything was so not good. What the hell had he done?

"All right, I won't pry. But you know you can talk to me."

"Yeah, man. I'm good."

Dean directed his gaze to the band, to the blonde woman waving around Caracas and singing backup in a husky voice. She was tall and good-looking. Maybe a little overweight and wearing too much makeup, but she looked like the fun type. Dean's type. At least before his thing with Roman, and his even bigger thing with Randy less than an hour ago.

He couldn't even look at a woman the same way right now.

"Is that my shirt?"

Dean snapped out of his thoughts once more to find Roman frowning at him. Glancing down at his own upper torso, Dean stared at the black button-down he'd "borrowed" for his date with Randy. The shirt he'd forgot to put back.

Shit.

"Oh yeah. I forgot to mention I'd borrowed it the other day. Wanted to look good when me and Kev hit the town."

"You mean Solomon?"

"Yeah. Isn't that what I said?"

Roman shook his head, his long ponytail swaying. "You said Kev."

Double shit. Dean scrubbed at his face. What the hell was wrong with his brain tonight?

"Dean, what's going on?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter appeared with their beers and appetizers. "You ready for anything else?"

Roman's hard gaze never wavered from Dean's face. "Give us a few minutes."

Dean averted his gaze—glancing at the blonde, at Seth pressed up behind Sasha while he taught her how to use the stick correctly. Dean's chest pounded, afraid that Roman would somehow know what he'd been doing if he looked at him. "Nothing's going on, Ro. Drop it."

"You've been acting weird since you got in the car, Dean. Or don't you think I notice stuff like that?"

Dean's shoulders tensed. "I know you do."

"Did you lie to me about wanting to spend time with Solomon?"

Dean released a soft sigh. "You don't want the answer to that question."

Silence.

Only the sound of Dean's blood rushing through his ears. He snatched up his bottle and brought it to his lips, swallowing most of the cold, bitter brew in one go. The wings were piping hot and mouthwatering, so Dean grabbed one and ate it. He needed to keep his hands and mouth busy.

Meanwhile, Roman just sat there, unmoving, unblinking, staring at him like he was a fucking stranger.

A pang welled deep inside Dean's chest, even though he knew he deserved it. He was a bastard for lying to Roman. But how the hell he could tell him about this, he didn't know. "Don't look at me like that," Dean mumbled behind bits of spicy chicken.

His phone pinged. A text message.

"Who's that?" Roman asked, his voice slightly deeper than normal.

Dean arched a brow. "I don't know."

"You gonna check it?"

"No."

Roman scoffed. "What if it's your sister with another emergency?"

"She can wait."

"Dean, be reasonable—"

"What the hell, Ro?"

With a sigh, Roman stood.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

"Restroom." He walked off without another word.

Left alone, Dean face-palmed himself and tugged hard on his hair in frustration. The tension was weird, even without Roman's presence. He wanted so badly to talk to his best friend. To get his advice. But he couldn't. He wanted to at least apologize for lying to him, but that would mean he'd have to tell him the truth of what he'd actually been doing that night.

"You are such a cheater."

Dean straightened as Sasha and Seth approached. They sat back down and instantly went for the platter of loaded nachos.

Seth shoved a handful into his mouth. "Where's Ro?"

"Ew, babe." Sasha put a delicate hand over his lips. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"He went to take a piss."

Sasha frowned. "Y'all are so crude. Legit."

Forcing a smile, Dean reached for another wing and made quick work of it.

They talked about nothing much for several minutes. Several painful minutes of Dean forcing himself to concentrate instead of getting lost in his thoughts. He should have just gone back to the hotel instead.

Roman returned to the table and sat down, then. He looked the same, too, not like he was upset.

When the waiter returned, Dean and Roman ordered two steak burgers, while Seth ordered a personal Hawaiian pizza, and Sasha asked for grilled cheese and chili.

Roman leaned in close. "I need to talk to you later."

Fuck that. Dean's nerves were already frayed. He'd be a wreck if he had to wait that long. "We can talk right now. Let's get an empty pool table." He didn't wait for Roman's protest. Dean got up and went off to the billiards' area of the bar. Lot of the tables had filled up since then. The various TV monitors could barely be heard over the live music and pool balls smacking into one another. Dean spotted an empty one and went to claim it. He didn't look back. He was sure Roman was following him.

Sure enough, Roman pulled up beside him once they reached the table.

It was in the perfect position too. A quiet corner under a dim light.

Roman handed him a cue stick. "Let's play a round."

"All right." Dean removed the ball holder from the green felt table. "Who goes first?"

"I'll go. I'll also talk."

"Shoot."

Roman didn't speak as he lined up his stick with the white ball. Several moments passed before he finally struck, sending the ball barreling into the others, causing them to scatter. Roman leaned his hip against the table, staring at him. "Why'd you lie to me about going out with Solomon?"

"Straight for the jugular, then." Dean didn't meet his friend's eyes as he lined up his stick with the white billiard, aiming for the 8 ball. He let several long seconds pass before he made the shot, sinking two others instead. How to explain to Roman without giving away anything? With a nervous sigh, Dean moved across the table so he could make another shot.

Roman blocked his way.

"I kinda need this spot, dude."

But Roman refused to budge.

Dean stared into that molten gray gaze, his mouth dry, the words stuck in the back of his throat.

"Why are you stalling, Dean? Look, if you went to meet someone, that's okay, man. I'm not gonna be mad because you really went to get laid."

"It's not like that—"

Roman arched a brow at him, shutting him up.

Dean licked his dry lips. "I met someone."

"Really?"

Dean blinked at him. Roman's voice sounded a little breathy. "Yeah. That night I was supposed to be meeting with fucking Solomon, I was meeting with someone else."

Roman sat down on the table, staring at Dean as if he'd sprouted another head. His grip on the stick tightened, while another hand shakily smoothed down his hair.

Dean frowned. He'd never seen Roman so fidgety before.

Roman cleared his throat before saying, "So why'd you lie to me about it?"

"I didn't think you'd approve of this person."

"Oh. Someone I know?"

Dean pressed his lips together. He really didn't want to get into that with the guy. Chances were, if he opened his big mouth even a little, he'd give away some clue as to who it was.

"Dean—"

"Hey guys," Seth shouted from across the room, "food's here."

Dean exhaled a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His shoulders sagged and all the tension melted out of him.

Roman gave him a small smile. "Here we are, supposed to be having a good time, and I'm ruining it with this interrogation."

Dean shook his head. "It's okay, Ro. You're worried. You called me out on my bullshit, and I needed that. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Roman kept smiling, but his eyes... his smile didn't reach them. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say Roman's eyes looked sad. "So you finally found someone, huh? I'm happy for you, Dean."

"Um, thanks, Ro. Appreciate it." He didn't have the guts to tell Roman that it'd only been a one-night stand kind of thing and that it'd never, ever happen again.

"You just better make sure they treat you right, or else..."

Dean forced a laugh at that. "You got nothing to worry about."

"Good." Roman reached a hand to touch his shoulder.

Dean sucked in a breath, bracing himself for the intimate contact.

"Dean! Roman! Come on," Seth shouted.

As Roman dropped his hand like heavy lead, Dean clenched and unclenched his fists, imagining them wrapped around Seth's neck. "If I didn't love that little bastard so much, I would've killed him by now."

Roman chuckled. "We should be getting back. There's nothing more frustrating than cold steak burger."

Before Dean could respond, Roman put away his stick and headed back for the table. Dean watched him leave, his chest knotted. He tossed his stick onto the felt, not bothering to put anything the way it was. "Nice talking to you too."