Page 14

Dean chuckled. “I mean, you can be a grumpy dick, but you weren’t that night. You asked if I was used to cold nights because you remembered I was from Arizona.”

Sloane shrugged. “It was the first thing to pop into my head.”

“It was probably one of the best things you could have asked. You never said anything during downtime, so I figured you didn’t give a shit about any of us. Kind of surprised me you remembered where I was from,” Dean said.

“I paid attention,” Sloane protested.

Maybe not to most things, but Dean had caught his eye from the first time they’d had a moment to breathe. There wassomething infectious about the way Dean laughed, and even when they were sore all over and worn to the bone, Dean still found a reason to smile. Dean didn’t bitch and whine like some of the other recruits had, and despite being on the smaller side, had worked just as hard, sometimes even harder, during the more strength-oriented demands on them.

“You looked cold,” Sloane continued.

Dean smiled. “And I thought you were a little lonely.”

There was that. After living his whole life in cramped quarters with two sisters and an energetic mother, Sloane had grown used to noise and chatter. Most of their fellow recruits were just as chatty, but they tended to give him a wide berth, though his dour attitude probably hadn’t encouraged them to change their thinking. It hadn’t been until he’d been left alone with Dean that Sloane had found a reason to reach out and have a little more human interaction.

And so, the greatest friendship Sloane had ever had was born.

Dean’s eyes lit up, pointing at the screen. “Ooh, that one!”

“Seriously?” Sloane asked as he looked over the preview flashing on the screen.

“It looks amazing!”

“It looks like garbage.”

“Amazing garbage.”

Shaking his head, Sloane hit the play button and let the movie start. There was no arguing with Dean when he got excited, and Sloane didn’t see any harm in letting him have his way.

Sloane should have knownDean wouldn’t make it through the entire movie. Dean worked a lot of hours in the clinic, but Sloane knew his friend didn’t sleep that well when he finally caught a few hours. Dean was tight-lipped about what caused his frequent sleep problems, and Sloane knew better than to push him.

Which was why, as the second movie started, Dean had shifted from sitting on the couch to lying on it. Dean sprawled along the length of the couch with his head on Sloane’s leg, making himself comfortable. It was a position they found themselves in frequently, and Sloane slung an arm over Dean without a second thought.

Halfway through the second movie, Dean snoozed soundly, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. Whatever demons haunted Dean’s sleep, they didn’t follow him whenever he came to rest at Sloane’s.

Maybe that was why Dean slept over so often.

So, Sloane finished the rest of the movie with Dean sleeping peacefully, head in his lap. Anyone who looked at the movie he was watching might have thought it’d been Sloane’s choice. A beautiful woman with a considerable chest and a penchant for tight clothing swung her way from fight to fight, taking down scores of men who far outweighed her. But no, the decision had been all Dean’s, the man’s love of ass-kicking women in action movies showing itself again. Sloane wasn’t a fan, but it was flashy and entertaining enough to hold his interest.

In truth, he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening on the screen. Despite his statement about not caring about the beer, Sloane had dipped into the supply he had stowed away and let it work its magic. By the time he’d worked through a third, he was pleasantly warm and filled with a lassitude that had him half-dozing.

Dean continued to sleep peacefully through the next movie, which had started to auto-play. Sloane sat, peacefully recliningagainst the back of the couch, his eyes half-closed. Dean’s head on his leg was a comforting pressure, and Sloane ran his thumb in small circles over the sleeping man’s shoulder. Whether they were simply existing close to one another, talking, or doing their own thing in the same room, Sloane always enjoyed their time together.

Dean stirred, turning his face into Sloane’s thigh and inhaling sharply. Sloane looked down, watching his friend as he waited to see how Dean would wake up. When Dean looked up at him, eyes blurry from sleep, Sloane let himself relax.

“How long have I been out?” Dean asked.

“Mmm, about an hour, hour and a half,” Sloane told him.

Dean groaned, flopping his arm onto the couch. “Damn it.”

“You always sleep like a rock when you’re here,” Sloane chuckled.

“Ugh, I know. Just wish it didn’t happen in the middle of the evening. Now I’ll never get to sleep later.”

“You can always crash here.”

Dean blinked slowly, shrugging. “Yeah, probably should, huh?”