A/N: This is just a little fluffy domestic polyship piece written for mine and clarembees' entertainment. I meant to get this done ages ago, but shit happens and at I can say it's done now.

A house was the last thing Dean ever really expected to have. A house was for the kids he had seen on TV growing up, getting to have normal lives with normal problems rather than his dealing with a junkie mother and her parade of terrible boyfriends. When he got older, a house was for the people in his life that could afford to settle down and put roots in somewhere. Not him. He still drifted, moving from hotel room to hotel room, friend's place after friend's place, crappy apartment after crappy apartment. It hadn't bothered him then. He hadn't seen a reason for it to. It was what he knew, and that was just that.

"Roman! I said a little bit of flour!" Renee's exasperated cry carried out from the kitchen to the living room, where Dean was laying on the couch watching TV.

"I did use a little flour!" Roman claimed.

"You just threw like half the bag all over the counter! And me!"

Dean chuckled to himself. For all the crap everyone gave him about being useless in the kitchen, Roman didn't seem to be faring much better in this case. He sat up and put his beer on the coffee table before leaving the couch and going into the kitchen. He found Renee trying to wipe the excess flour away from her cookie dough, which still needed to be rolled out. Her "Kiss the cook but don't touch the buns" apron had about as much flour on it as the counter did. Roman was holding the rolling pin, his black tank top suffering just as much as her apron. "Told ya that I should have helped instead," he said, alerting them both of his presence. "Even I know not to throw flour everywhere."

Roman shot him the finger with the hand not holding the rolling pin. "Fuck off Deano. You can't even get milk out of the fridge without making a mess."

Dean gave him an offended look, completely ignoring the fact that it was true. "I do no such thing."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do -"

"Boys, I'll put you both over my knee if you don't knock it off," Renee warned them. She got the counter to the state she wanted it in and took the cookie dough from the bowl and set it down. "Rolling pin please."

Roman handed it over, following it up with a kiss to the side of her head. "Sorry babe."

"You should be," she said as she started rolling out the dough.

"I'm not," Dean informed them. "She acts like being bent over her knee would be a bad thing." He wagged his eyebrows as she rolled her eyes at him. "You could do that to me anytime baby."

"Don't think that I won't." Renee tried to look stern, but it was obvious she was fighting back a smile. "You won't think it's so fun when you can't sit down for a week."

Dean still laughed, both at her trying to threaten him, and at his continued disbelief that this was actually his life. He not only had a house, but he was sharing it with the two people he loved the most. Moving in together had been Roman's idea. They had been in a hotel room in Oregon, squished in on a bed that wasn't quite big enough for all three of them. They had been discussing whose place they were going to for their days off. They had been splitting their time between New York, Las Vegas and Orlando, and their efforts had been wearing on all their nerves. Roman had been the one to break up Dean and Renee's debate with the suggestion, pointing out how much easier it would be on all of them. Renee had agreed on the spot, though Dean had taken a bit more convincing. A big step like this has freaked him out. But Roman and Renee had gently persisted, eventually breaking him down on the matter. He couldn't have been happier that they did. This, what they had built together, was perfect. He couldn't imagine having it any other way.

"Look at what I got off of Amazon." Renee opened their miscellaneous kitchen tool drawer and pulled out two stainless steel Batman logo cookie cutters. "I know we said I should cut down on the online shopping, but look at this! How could I not buy them?"

Dean and Roman exchanged looks. That was about what she always said whenever she bought something new. But it was hard to actually get mad at her whenever she inevitably went on another one of her sprees. All she really had to do was smile and start getting excited over whatever it was she had gotten, and they would inevitably melt. "We get to frost these cookies, right?" Dean decided to go ahead and steer the conversation into a far more important direction. "I'm not eating sugar cookies without frosting."

"Dude, they're just as good without it." Roman stated his case yet again, despite knowing damn well Dean wanted nothing to do with it.

"Go look in the pantry." Renee gave the order before Dean could make his argument. "I got pink and green frosting in there."

Dean frowned as he went to the pantry and retrieved the two containers. "Really Nee?"

"What?" She shrugged her shoulders innocently. "I thought we should do something not boring."

"These look like they should be a John Cena t-shirt."

"...Holy shit they do." Roman laughed as Renee let out a huff. "Maybe this is why he designs his shirts the way he does. He aspires to be like the Pillsbury frosting."

"Or Pillsbury frosting aspires to be like John Cena." Dean set the containers down on the counter and jabbed a finger against Roman's chest. "Did you ever think of that?"

"No," Roman admitted. "Because that just sounds dumb man."

"Your face sounds dumb."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"That's because your face is too dumb to get it."

"Boys!" Renee raised herself up on to her toes, trying her damndest to be tall and intimidating as she started to scold them once again. "If you don't think I won't paddle your asses for being little assholes, you're -"

Dean didn't let her finish that threat. Instead he closed the distance between them and kissed her, pleased that she only have the faintest of efforts of pushing him away to continue her scolding before just giving him in and kissing him back. He heard Roman grunt behind him, and felt the Samoan's strong arm wrap around him from behind. Roman's lips pressed against his shoulder and neck, his other hand reaching over to play with Renee's hair.

"I think - " Renee broke the kiss and took a breath "- someone here -" her eyes looked to Roman as she grinned "-is feeling left out."

"I think you're right." Dean turned himself around so he and Renee were both facing Roman.

"Am not." Roman's attempt to lie wasn't anywhere near convincing. "Just didn't want you two to get too distracted. Those cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

Dean snorted and gave Renee a light nudge to the ribs with his elbow. She got the hint and got up on her toes again, planting wet obnoxious kisses to the left side of Roman's face. Dean got the right one, his hands holding the bigger man in place.

"Damn it!" Roman made a half-hearted attempt to push them away. "Guys come on! You're being - Dean!" He groaned as Dean's tongue made another swipe from his jaw all the way up to his ear. "We said we were going to buy a dog. You don't got to keep doing that!"

"But it's fun!" Dean went to go do it again, only to get a hard pinch to the nipple. "Owwww!"

"Don't be such a baby." Roman slipped out of their grip and wiped the side of his face off. "I barely did it."

"Bullshit." Dean rubbed his chest and gave the older man an exaggerated pout. "I barely have feeling in the other one. Now you gonna take out this one?"


"No nipples are being taken out." Renee put her foot down before this subject went any further. She grabbed the cookie cutters and handed one to Roman. "Help me cut?"

"Of course baby girl." Roman took it from her hand, an apologetic look already on his face. "Can't guarantee they'll actually look good, but I'll try."

"All I ask babe." She turned to Dean next, a hopeful smile on her face. "I bought stuff for margaritas. Think you could make us some?"

Dean smirked. "Sometimes I think you just love me for my bartending skills."

"What? Just that? No!" She grinned, a joking glint in her eyes. "You also got that thing you do with your tongue going for you. I can't ever just let that go."

Dean snorted before turning to Roman triumphantly. "Told ya I did that better."

"I didn't say better!" Renee looked to Roman, who was shaking his head. "You know I didn't say better."

"Oh I know," Roman assured her. "But for as much as he runs his mouth, it's good he can at least put it to use."

"Fuck off Ro-Ro."

"Shut up and make our drinks Deano."

Dean flipped him the bird, making a show of stomping over the liquor cabinet to get the stuff. "Fucking see if either of you get my mouth tonight."

He heard them laugh, and tried really hard to pretend it didn't make him feel warm and stupidly fuzzy inside. They were the softer, more sentimental ones, not him. Terrible influences, the fucking both of them.