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Dean was tired. Like really tired. When he gets like this, exhausted down to his bones to the point that his eyelids hurt, he always ends up little. He's trying his hardest not to though, he doesn't want to disturb the other two men in the car. Roman is driving, and his hand is outstretched to hold onto Seth's, who is sitting in the passenger seat, rambling on about something related to their match tonight. Seth's voice makes Dean want to whine and demand that they both stop what they're doing and cuddle him immediately, but that's not practical, and it would just disturb what they're doing. He knows logically that they won't have an issue with him regressing, but there's a nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him they're sick and tired of having to deal with a baby version of their boyfriend.
His head drops a few times on the way to their house, but he rubs the tiredness out of his eyes and focuses really hard on staying up. He wishes he had Mr. Quack with him, but he's in one of the bags in the back of the trunk. He could turn around and easily reach the bag, but then they'd both know without a doubt. Dean's jerked out of his thoughts by the car suddenly stopping, and he covers a yawn with his arm, unbuckling himself. The three of them are pretty quiet, grabbing their bags and getting into the house, and Dean shuffles to their bedroom, immediately throwing himself on the bed.
“Get your fucking shoes off of my sheets, Ambrose.” Roman's voice is deep, a hint of amusement from where he's standing behind him. Dean knows he's not actually mad, but something curls deep in his gut at the tone and lack of pet name, and he scrambles off the bed, pulling off his socks and shoes. He would just sleep in his jeans, but he knows Seth would throw a fit and eventually drag Roman into the complaining too, so he gets up to get clothes from the dresser.
He feels oddly overwhelmed opening the drawer, faced with an endless amount of sleep shirts and sleep pants, and making a decision seems close to impossible. He ends up just grabbing a black shirt and black sweatpants, the pants belonging to Roman. He turns around and sees that the bathroom door is open, and both the other men are brushing their teeth in the mirror. He wriggles out of his clothes, pulling up the sweatpants. He pulls on the shirt, and realizes about three seconds later that he can feel the tag against the back of his neck.
Now listen, Dean's not a cryer, ok? It's not that he's one of those ‘oh men shouldn't cry’ types of guys, that's ridiculous. Seth cries regularly, and Dean and Roman have fallen victim to a movie with a dog in it on more than one occasion. But he doesn't just start crying, especially not over something as simple as a tag rubbing against his skin. However, whether it be from exhaustion, or his ever approaching little space, or his sensory issues, or some combination of the three, he starts crying. Not just small sniffles he could cover up with a cough, no, he cries with enough force to shake his whole body, and he closes his eyes, hands gripping onto the fabric of his pants.
Within seconds he can hear, and feel, Seth and Roman rushing over to him, and he feels horrible that he's dragged them away from their routine because he couldn't even be big enough to handle a shirt. He doesn't want to, but he literally cannot stop himself from melting into Roman's arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he shudders.
“What is it baby?” Seth's rubbing a hand up and down Dean's back, and his voice is filled with so much concern that he doesn't even know how to respond. Roman is cooing in his ear gentle things, trying to calm him down as he runs his fingers through the younger man's short hair.
Dean doesn't even know how to begin, so he just awkwardly reaches behind him and starts tugging at his shirt, desperate to get the tag off of his skin.
“You want the shirt off baby boy?” It's Seth's favorite term of endearment for him, and it fully breaks down any walls he still had up. He nods, mumbling into Roman's skin.
“Please daddy.”
The other two men make a noise of realization at the same time, and Dean can't see it, but they make eye contact, both feeling incredibly stupid for not realizing their boy felt like this. Roman has to push the taller man back, and his heart breaks at the whine that Dean lets out when they break skin contact. Seth is quick to wrestle Dean's shirt off, mumbling praises the whole time, gently bringing his nails up and down over the other's skin. Even just the tag being gone is enough to calm Dean down and he shudders, leaning back against the Samoan.
“M cold papa.” Dean's shivering, trying to melt into Roman to get any of his body heat. Roman has the body temperature of a furnace, and Seth giggles at the squeak Roman lets out when Dean wiggles his hands under the older man's shirt.
“Do you want one of papa's shirts?”
Dean looks up at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks for a moment.
“These papa's.” He grabs at his pants, shaking his head. “Wan Daddy's sweater.”
Seth nearly bolts to grab one of his sweaters he knows the other likes, a plain navy blue one that's thin from all the times it's been worn between the three of them. He helps Dean put it on, gently kissing his forehead, leaning forward to kiss Roman's cheek when the Samoan pouts at being left out. Dean clears his throat and they both look at him, opening his mouth like he's going to say something before he stops himself.
“What is it sweetheart?” Roman runs a hand through his hair as he asks, scratching at his scalp as he does say.
“Wan um.” Dean's not usually one to be shy, but he hides his face against Roman's chest, not looking at either of them, instead staring at the floor. “Wan my paci.”
“Of course baby boy, anything for you.”
Dean's eyes light up but he stays where he is, still looking at the floor. He won't let go of Roman, so Seth has to go on the hunt for it, eventually finding it in the same bag as Mr. Quack, and he grabs both. He gives the duck over to Dean first, smiling when he gasps and quickly takes it from Seth's hands. “Thank you daddy!”
He leans against Seth, still holding onto Roman as he does so, nuzzling against Seth's jaw. Roman chuckles from behind them, and Seth places the pacifier in Dean's mouth, lips curling up into a smile when Dean's eyes immediately begin to flutter and he fights back a yawn.
“I think it's bedtime, right papa?”
“I think you're right, daddy.” Roman agrees with Seth, and Dean nods too, so they all shuffle over to the bed, laying Dean down gently. He whines when they let go of him, one arm holding Mr. Quack and the other stretched out to motion to the two men not in the bed. They can't resist the temptation, crawling in next to him and pulling the blankets up around the three of them.
Roman's on one side, Seth on the other, Dean very happily being squished between the two of them, laying his head on Seth's chest, and intertwining his legs with Roman's.
“Nigh nighs daddy, nigh nighs papa.” Dean trails off into a yawn, tiredly popping his paci back into his mouth when it falls out, breathing evening out almost immediately after he stops speaking and they both smile at the boy laying between them.
Roman carefully twists forward to softly kiss Seth, smiling against his mouth as they both speak at the same time.
“‘Love you baby.”