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“Thedreams?” Sloane asked.

Dean gave another shrug. “And other ones.”

Once again, Sloane wanted to ask what was in those dreams and what had caused them. However, he knew it wasn’t the right time, especially since Dean looked so vulnerable. The last thing Sloane wanted was to push Dean into another corner, forcing an emotional outburst Dean wasn’t ready for.

Again.

Sloane had never been very good at expressing himself, not with words anyway. Whenever he tried, he stumbled over his words, sometimes making the situation even worse. He’d never had that trouble with Dean, though. No matter what, Sloane had always known what to say or do when it came to Dean. To feel at an utter loss the way he did now, looking into Dean’s wary, aching expression, was new and awful.

Dean cleared his throat. “Look, I know...a lot of things were said the last time I was here. And if I could take it back, I would.”

Did Sloane want him to, though? Sloane wished Dean hadn’t kept everything to himself, hadn’t kept his hurt locked away where Sloane would never be able to help even the slightest. Wasn’t it better that Sloane knew now, even if the knowledge sat strangely in Sloane’s head? It was so odd to think about it. Dean had wanted him. Dean had been in love with him.

Strange and a little intriguing.

“Dean,” Sloane began, not quite sure what he was going to say.

Dean shook his head. “Sloane, I’m sorry I dumped that on you, and I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“You had every right. I shouldn’t have pushed you and…” Sloane stopped, again at a loss.

Dean looked up, making a brave attempt at a smile. “See? I’m not sure what to do about this either. I want it to be better, but I don’t know how.”

They’d never had to deal with this sort of thing before. Dean was no doubt aching over having spilled his secret the way he had, but Sloane could see it was more than that. Neither of them had fought with the other. Sure, there had been bickering, and they weren’t afraid to give each other hell, but they’d never outright fought.

But he couldn’t stand to see the pain on Dean’s face anymore and decided to go with the truth.

“I want my friend back,” Sloane said.

Dean looked up, nervous but nodding. “That’s what I want too.”

Sloane snorted softly. “Then be my friend again, Dean. If you’ve got the time, you could hang out here. We can bullshit, watch shitty movies, and eat junk food. Hell, I just got a fifth ofsome pretty good vodka. We don’t have to talk about this shit, not until we’re ready. But until then, let’s...just be friends again.”

He wouldn’t have blamed Dean if the man had insisted on talking things out and settling things right away. But Sloane wasn’t surprised to see relief spread over Dean’s face, and his shoulders lost some of their tension. Dean had been prepared for anything Sloane was ready to throw at him, but he was also more than happy to take Sloane’s offer.

Dean looked up, smiling a little. “Vodka?”

“What? I like vodka.”

“You like beer and whiskey. I’m the one who likes vodka.”

Sloane shrugged. “Maybe I also bought a few things to go with it.”

Dean looked over at Sloane. “Did you buy stuff for my poor man’s peach martinis?”

Sloane sighed. “It sounded good, okay?”

“God, I’ve turned you onto fruity drinks? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t start. I’m allowed to enjoy a bit of fruit in my drinks,” Sloane growled.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. You swore up and down you’d never understand why I liked the damn things.”

“Until you cheated and gave me those things.”

Damn him. Dean knew how much Sloane obsessed over peach flavor.

Dean grinned. “And now you’ve been converted.”