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Baltimore MD. September 12, 2016. Sometime around 2 AM.
Seth’s hand is on his cock. No one else’s hand feels quite like that, jumpy and demanding. “Come on, Roman, give it up already.”
For a second Roman can almost imagine it’s three years ago and Dean’s just left the room to get something from the vending machine. His heart expands unnervingly at the thought. He can almost hear Dean banging on the door because he forgot his key like always, shouting Hey! Open up in there!
Seth lets go of his dick and tenses, twisting his head to the side so fast his hair whips Roman in the face.
“What the hell—” Roman starts.
In the sudden—not silence. In the sudden absence of a handjob, Roman hears Dean’s voice clearly: “Rise and shine, brother!” Dean is actually pounding on the door.
Dean is actually here. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seth makes an abrupt sideways motion like he’s about to run out and jump naked off the sixth-floor balcony. Roman doesn’t blame him. Dean must never know has been their unspoken agreement since...whatever this is started a few weeks ago. “Under the bed,” he hisses, and for once Seth just does what he’s told.
Pulling on boxers and a T-shirt, Roman glares at his erection while thinking about Dean finding out about this. It gives up without much of a fight. “Coming,” he calls.
“You wish,” Seth mutters from under the bed. Roman stifles a nervous giggle as he grabs a hairtie off the nightstand, dumping Seth’s in the drawer and kicking his clothes under the bed with him. He opens the door, tying back his hair. That makes it look like he was asleep, right?
In spite of himself, his nerves melt away when he sees Dean. Dean, grinning at him. Dean’s warm hug. “Sorry I didn’t call,” Dean says. “I lost my phone charger a couple days ago. Guess it was an omen.”
“This separate brands thing is bullshit,” Roman says.
“Don’t I know it.” He saunters in and jumps directly onto the bed. Fuck, what if he...smells Seth or something? He catches Roman’s frown. “Oh, sorry.” Kicking off his shoes, he drops them on the floor with a thud. Roman hears Seth jump. Dean doesn’t seem to notice anything.
“Let’s go out,” Roman suggests. “I’ll put on some pants and we can—”
Dean tilts his head back, considering. “I think I’m gonna pass tonight, brother. Party animal Dean is not at home. C’mere and give me the low-down on Raw.” He slaps the mattress beside him.
Gingerly Roman lowers himself down, hoping their combined weight isn’t smothering Seth. “There’s a nice view from the balcony,” he tries. He has no idea what the view from the balcony even is.
Dean digs his shoulderblades into the bed with a groan, staring at the ceiling. “This is all the view I need. But you could take your shirt off if you wanted to really wow me.”
Roman should just tell him. He should just admit that...
...he’s sleeping with the guy who ditched them, sold them out, didn’t care if they lived or died, told disgusting lies about them every day for two years—and not only is Roman sleeping with him, he lied to Dean about it and then hid him under the bed. Real grown-up behavior.
“You hungry?” he tries again. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”
“Order room service.” Dean sighs. “It’s been a rough couple of days, you know? I just want...” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Roman gives in. “It sucks dropping a title, doesn’t it?” he teases.
Dean burrows his head into Roman’s ribs. “Bigtime.”
Roman hates the brand split. He misses Dean all the time, like an injury that won’t quite stop hurting even when everyone says it’s healed.
Dean scrubs a hand through his hair. “I owe you an apology. I hope you don’t even know I do, but I do.”
Roman’s never gonna make all the apologies he owes Dean. Maybe he’ll never make any of them. That shit doesn’t matter between them. He hopes. “No you don’t,” he says firmly.
“Yeah, I do.” Dean rolls away, lacing his fingers behind his head. His elbow brushes Roman’s ear. “I thought I could be champion and keep the crowd. I thought I could handle them better than you. But they were booing me last night at Backlash. I should have believed in you. I should have known...” He shakes his head. “People love you when you’re down and out, and then...what is it about success that makes people crazy?”
Roman knows Dean means Seth. The good news is Seth probably didn’t pick up on that. He’s not as keenly observant as he’s always telling everyone. “You’ve handled it better than me,” he says. “But thanks. It’s okay.”
Dean smiles at him. “I love you, man.”
Roman cringes. He has to say something. He has to. But Dean rolls on top of him and kisses him, and his whole everything just rises towards Dean in a wave. He wraps his arms around Dean and crushes him to his chest. Don’t go. Don’t ever go. Stay here.
Dean laughs against his mouth. “Easy, big dog, we’ve got all night.”
Roman squeezes his eyes shut. “Look under the bed.” He did it. He’s honestly surprised he had the willpower.
Dean pulls away, frowning in amusement. “Uh...”
Roman lets him go reluctantly, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I mean it. Look.”
“Damn it, Reigns! You are always the weak link,” Seth spits out, scuttling from under the bed with his skinny jeans clutched in front of his crotch. “God, when’s the last time someone cleaned under there? You should not tip housekeeping.” He brushes something off his shoulder with a shudder.
Dean’s eyes are triple their normal size.
“Sorry.” Roman knows that’s not nearly enough.
Dean laughs. Not his laugh for just the two of them. His laugh for other people, for Seth, for the cameras—the loud, showy one with an edge to it. “Hey, no, don’t be sorry. I get it. The sex must be electric, right? All that pent-up emotion...” Dean makes a churning gesture with his hands that does kind of describe what Roman’s insides are doing right now.
“Oh, please,” Seth scoffs. “I’m out of here.” He yanks his jeans on. Even at this moment Roman can’t help noticing how well they fit him.
Dean jumps to his feet. “Nah, you know what, I’m out.”
“Dean...” Roman can’t stand this. He doesn’t even know what to say, because what is there to explain? Dean does get it. That’s the problem. That’s what he wanted to avoid in the first place: Dean getting it. “I was embarrassed.”
“Hey!” Seth says.
Dean sticks his tongue out at Seth. “I hear ya, brother, I would be too.”
God damn it. Roman had a chance at one halfway decent night with Seth and one great one with Dean and instead he fucked up both, and he’s going to have to pry them off each other and maybe call an ambulance. He puts his shoulder in front of Seth, facing Dean. Just because he was already looking at Dean. Right? He realizes too late how it looks when Dean’s eyebrows almost rise to the ceiling.
Then he shakes himself and laughs again, the other-people laugh that’s all Roman deserves. “This will probably be hilarious in the morning, huh? I’m gonna look up Sami. Call me if you want, but if you’re gonna put me on speakerphone I’d appreciate a heads-up.” He steps into his shoes, picks up his bag, and that’s it, it’s as if he was never here. Roman should kick Seth out, should ask Dean to stay, should say something...
But Dean is here a couple times a month, and Seth is here all the time, and the truth is, Roman isn’t willing to risk Seth not coming back.
The door shuts behind Dean with a very final clunk.
“I was champion longer than either of you,” Seth sulks. “If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me.”
Roman drags him in by the back of his neck, kissing him to make him stop talking, stop being so...stop. Seth’s mouth under his lights him up, calms him down, warms him. He’s using Seth like sleeping pills. He’s not a good friend and he shuts his eyes and misses Seth even though Seth is right here, grumbling and pushing his jeans back off. “Nothing like a little hatesex to get your mind off things.”
“That’s not what this is,” Roman growls.
Seth shakes his head like Roman is delusional. “You’re pathetic.”
Roman doesn’t argue.