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Roman loves hearing about Dean’s hardcore matches he had done in the past. Not because he likes to hear what went down, but because it showed that Dean trusted him. But Roman’s always noticed how he’s expected to know every gritty detail about the indie scene and it’s beginning to get under his skin, because no , he doesn’t know what it’s like to get suplexed through a windshield in front of a crowd of 12 people. Maybe it’s subconscious, but Dean expects him to be able to recall that feeling at the drop of a hat. It’s not just Dean, and maybe it doesn’t stop at Seth either, but he’s yet to get an itch like this from anyone else. Roman feels like he’ll never be considered their true equals until he’s done softcore porn or been shot by a nail gun in the back repeatedly. He gets it for the most part. Dean and Seth can bond over that shared feeling of strength and talk about how they worked their way to the top, but it’s not like Roman’s life has been daisies and call up after call up. The only reason he found himself at FCW was because he wasn’t good enough at the one thing he’d dedicated his life to.
“This one,” Dean began as Roman traced one of the many scars that adorned his body, “is from somewhere in Puerto Rico. You know how they have like, little -- well, no you don’t actually. They have these little hole in the wall gyms and I would fuckin’ live in those things, man.”
And there it is. Again . Roman’s not even sure that Dean knows how absolutely condescending he sounds, but everytime he pulls this I always forget you’ve never worked in developmental shit, Roman feels more and more of his patience chip away.
Over the next few days, it takes about four more casual digs at Roman’s past before he interrupts Dean mid “Well, in developmental, we. . .” with a slam of his soda can on their table at catering. Seth visibly jumps, and Roman swears he sees shock cross Dean’s face before he’s back to the weird half smirk he always has going on. Renee passes by with a wary look on her face and Roman shoots her an apologetic look.
“Rome, man, what’s wrong?”
“I - sorry, shouldn’t have burst out like that. Catering isn’t the place to sort all this out. ‘S nothin’ to worry about, Seth.”
Dean’s yet to make a snarky comment, or say anything, really. In any other context, it would be unsettling (hell, maybe it should be in this one too), but Roman appreciates the quiet.
It’s not until Raw is over and Roman is making his way out of the locker room that Dean places a hand on his shoulder; all little too strong of a grip for Roman’s liking at that moment, but he’ll let it slide.
“I told Seth to catch a ride with someone else. We need to talk.”
Either Roman wanted to kill two birds with one stone or he needed someone who wasn’t Dean with him while they had this “talk”, “No, he needs to hear what I gotta say too. I’ll text him and tell him to meet us at the car in five. You got all your stuff?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” On the surface, it’s playful banter, but Roman knows Dean well enough to know that Dean is itching to know if Roman is mad at him (which, in Dean’s mind, directly means he’s leaving him) and he wants to test Roman’s mood.
To spare Dean the fire under his skin, Roman just playfully listed off things Dean had forgotten before. He just wanted Dean to save his lighter for when it really mattered.
The car ride to the hotel was painfully boring and everyone was on edge. Seth, who dotes on Dean for being too jittery all hours of the day, wouldn’t stop bouncing his leg and Roman had to physically hold his thigh down to make him stop. (Seth stopped because of two things: the glare Roman shot him as he touched his leg; and the fact that when Roman Reigns is close to your dick, you don’t do anything to compromise that.) The elevator was conveniently out of order, so the three of them reached their room on the fourteenth (“Fourteen fuckin’ floors? You’re kiddin’ me.”) sweaty and tense.
“Okay, well. . .”
“The fuck’s your problem been lately, Rome?”
Seth stared at him, mouth agape. However, Roman knew better than to take offense to Dean’s brash questioning. From the two of them barely knowing each other, to wanting to rip each other’s throats out, to being kind of okay, to becoming brothers, Dean never had the time to beat around the bush. Seth, on the other hand, would take 5 to 7 business days to finally spit it out. A blessing and a curse, both of them. (Roman could say that about any part of the boys -- his boys. It still spreads a warm feeling through him, regardless of if there was no romantic labels impressed onto them. They were teammates and brothers first, foremost, and forever.)
After a moment of quiet, Dean’s now tapping his collarbone and looking at Roman expectantly. The look sets Roman on fire in the worst ways and suddenly, Roman steps out of his “big dog” character and settles comfortably into Dean’s “wolf at your throat” vibes.
“I think it’s real shitty that you act like I ain’t as good as you because I never travelled the indie circuit. Act like I’ve never been through anythin’ before.”
It’s still Seth with his mouth open in surprise. Dean being kind of an ass is nothing new, but Roman just coming out and saying what’s on his mind (and for once, matching Dean’s venom) is something that rarely ever happened.
“Boo hoo, Roman. Boo fuckin’ hoo. For once, you don’t have everything. Welcome to our world, otherwise known as the real world.”
“For once? For once? You mean to tell me when I spent nearly a decade working my hardest at what I loved and then didn’t amount to shit, that I had everything?”
“You always had your royal family backing you. You could burn the city down and they’d come to your rescue.”
“Just like when I had to get food stamps to feed my daughter because Sika refused to give me a place to stay?”
“You went through one rough patch. My whole life’s been a fuckin’ fight.”
“Cut the woe is me shit, Ambrose. All I’m saying is, I’ve been through some stuff too. You don’t need to make me feel bad because you’ve had a hard life.”
“It has nothing to do with me. Well, it does. But not in the way you’re meanin’.”
“You just said your life’s been a fight? What else is that supposed to mean? You think that since I didn’t have to eat broken glass that my life was a breeze?”
“Well, let’s see. You’re Vince McMahon’s wet dream, you have a college degree, a family. And yeah, you haven’t eaten glass. Shit like that builds character.”
During this whole banter, Seth kept quiet, but he finally decided to throw in his two cent as well, “You have a dad.”
Both Roman and Dean were surprised that Seth dared to get between them, even if it was just a mumble.
“You do too, Seth.”
“Stepdad’s not the same and you know that.”
“No, I don’t know that because jesus christ at least you saw someone as a father figure. I had my older brother and my mom most of the time. The only times I saw my dad he told me to do better or try harder like I was just shootin’ the shit or somethin’.”
Seth must have seen that nothing would amount of this, so he tried a more gentle approach, “Look, Roman. We like you. You’re good dude and you haven’t turned your back us on, like ever. I know you have this weird drive to stomp out anyone who isn’t like you, but Dean and I just connect on a different level. We’ve been around this world.”
“So while you two are living in your fuckin’ glory days or something, have you forgotten that we’re travelling the world together right now? Are you really just gonna glance over that? You’d rather push me away to relive those shitty times than look in front of you and see the cool shit we’re doing?”
Roman will let the whole We like you thing lie still for a while. (His mind immediately went “Like? Fuck you. I love you guys.”)
“Well, when you’re a huge superstar and you’ve left us in the dust, we can all look back on these days and think the same as we are now. If this is how you feel about us, it may be sooner rather than later.”
The venom was back and Roman rubbed his face in exasperation, “Really? ‘ If this is how you feel about us ’? According to Seth, you guys don’t feel shit about me, you like me. That’s it.” So much for letting it lie still.
“Rome, that’s not what we me-”
“Yeah, we do like you, Roman. A whole fuckin’ lot. It’s hard to get there. You think we would stick with you if we didn’t feel somethin’? I can’t speak for Seth, but man, you’re fuckin’ special. I don’t think anyone else can keep up and stand their own. I can appreciate that, even if it makes me want to sock you in the throat.”
And just like that, the mood shifts. It’s no longer grey and impending red, but a cool blue mixing with a sunshine yellow to make the most neutral green. Everything is turning good.
“That’s sweet, really. I just didn’t like that you guys thought I’ve had it made because of my family. If anything, it’s made all of this worse. I have a hell of a lot to live up to, it gets really scary sometimes.”
“Man, this business is terrifying regardless. It’s all good, we have each other.” Seth let a genuine smile make its way onto his face and Roman had to squint it was so full of light.
“You guys are so sappy, I can’t stand it,” Dean rolled his eyes and went to work unlacing his boots, “Now that this little pow wow is over, we’re behind schedule and for once, I get the shower with hot water. See you later, fuckers.”
He blew a mock kiss and slipped into the bathroom. The running water was calming. While Dean’s muscles relaxed under the warm water (that he rarely got because he’s committed to two of the most high maintenance people he’s ever come across), Roman and Seth both agreed that a shower was not worth getting up for. Instead, they changed and attempted to push the two twin beds together and when they got close enough, stuffed the weird gap between the two with sheets and pillows.
“You’re hogging the covers, Rome.”
“Well, if you would stop stealing my shirts, I wouldn’t have to use so many blankets to stay warm.”
“You like when I wear your clothes, just admit it.”
“I have no problem saying that I think you look hot, never have. Just want to be warm.”
Seth wrapped his arms around Roman’s torso and tangled their legs together, “Better?”
Steam meandered into the room as Roman hummed. Dean saunters out with a towel around his waist and admire the scene in front of him. It never fails to fill him with equal parts love and anxiety. Sometimes he just wants to scream because he’s so in love, which is stupid. After everything that’s happened in his life, Dean still has hope in people. He may not ever say that, but he knows that love is out there somewhere, and it may be dozing off in a hotel room as he slips on some sweats.
By the time Dean’s ready for bed and has shut of his mind for the night, both Roman and Seth are asleep. They’re still threaded through each other, and Dean has to figure out how he’s gonna do the same. Despite Dean’s tendency to fidget even in his sleep, he has to sleep in the middle. There is no way around it. It’s a law and all three of them have accepted it. He could just fling himself on top of them and hope for the best, but he’s not ready for Seth’s vicious attitude when you wake him up. Roman, however, is a bit more forgiving. It’s a small bit, but it’s something.
“Rome. Rome. Rooome. Roman. Romie.”
Roman grunts from under a mountain of blankets and Dean goes on, “I need to get in the middle.”
Dean walks on his knees from the bottom of the bed to in between Roman, who lifted his arm up to allow Dean access, and Seth.
Now that Dean’s firmly settled in bed with the ends of Seth’s bun tickling his face and Roman’s arm anchoring him, it’s silent. Dean’s last thought before he slips into his subconscious is something along the lines of Maybe I should give Reigns a break. I didn’t know I was bein’ that harsh. . .nah, he’s a big boy. He can deal with it. I love that dude, so he can learn to deal with me. Seth too. They’re never getting rid of me now.