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“I would never dream of doing anything of the sort,” Dean swore, lying through his teeth as Sloane knew full well.

One of the greatest delights he’d experienced in the first few months of their relationship was showing Sloane a whole new side of his personality. Dean had always been tight-lipped about his sex life, even with Sloane, or perhaps especially with Sloane. His best friend had known only that Dean did have sex and enjoyed himself, and that was about it.

Yet, in the past six months of their relationship, Dean had flung that particular door wide open and invited Sloane in. Through that door was the reality of just how horny Dean could be. Though Dean swore up and down, it wasn’t his fault. It was Sloane’s, for looking so damned good all the time. Sloane never quite seemed to believe that, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he thought Dean was just a closet horndog through and through or he wasn’t willing to admit he might be an incredibly sexy man.

Either way, those six months had also gone a long way to teaching Dean that he wasn’t the only one with a healthy sex drive. While Sloane had been amazed at what Dean had kept to himself all those years, he certainly wasn’t put off by it. In fact, most of the time, Dean’s advances were met with equal enthusiasm, and Dean wasn’t the only initiator. Dean had lost count of how many times Sloane had caught Dean off-guard, pouncing on him or dragging him to the nearest surface.

Though he did have a point. Even Dean wasn’t interested in screwing around with hundreds of witnesses nearby.

“I can’t exactly step away and leavethat thingon display,” Dean said, nodding toward Sloane’s crotch. “Someone gets a look at that, and they’ll either try to steal you from me or accuse you of smuggling a weapon.”

“You are the worst,” Sloane said, shaking his head.

“And you love me for it.”

“I love you in general. You being an ass is just part of the package.”

It was said so casually, but Dean beamed all the same. He’d always known Sloane loved him. That had just been part and parcel of being his best friend. But with the change in their relationship came a whole new meaning to that phrase. Dean never got tired of hearing it, and deep down, he knew he never would.

Sloane drew his heavy coat around him, zipping it up at the bottom. “That’ll have to do.”

Dean chuckled, stepping back, but not before he felt a buzz inside Sloane’s pocket. Sloane glanced down but, thankfully, didn’t reach for the device. Dean was proud of himself for keeping a troubled expression off his face, once again wondering who the hell his boyfriend was talking to.

He didn’t want to think about it too hard. Letting his mind run wild was a ticket to all sorts of mess and assumptions. Yet six months was not enough to wipe away the fact that Sloane, for all intents and purposes, was straight. Sloane himself had admitted that viewing or thinking of sex involving other men did nothing for him and that Dean alone managed to create those feelings. While that was certainly a comforting thought, and it normally warmed Dean more than he could express, it also opened up a few nagging doubts.

Would Sloane ever grow tired of being with him? That, he supposed, was a common enough fear for anyone in a new relationship. But it was exacerbated by who Sloane was, what he was. Would Sloane grow tired of being with a man? Would he miss being with a woman? Would he one day find that Dean’s touch no longer excited him, finding instead that what he’d hadwith Dean was nothing more than impulse, a phase that finally burned itself out?

These things crept up on him in the dead of night when all was quiet. And when he saw Sloane spending so much time devoutly talking on his phone.

Sloane’s hand slipped into his, squeezing. “We should probably get to our gate. If we miss the flight, my mom will skin me alive, and then she’ll be forced to adopt you.”

Dean laughed. “She’s already threatened to do that.”

Sloane pulled him into the crowd. “Well, let’s not give her the opportunity.”

Dean followed him, hand in hand. With Sloane’s fingers, strong and a little calloused, clasped around his, all his dark thoughts faded to the back of his mind, silent. In their place, warmth flushed through him, and a smile took root on his face.

He even began humming along to the music coming from the speakers.

SLOANE

By the time they finally landed, Sloane was considering never flying again. It wasn’t his first, but he hated civilian flights. Sure, the military flights involved more cold steel, howling winds, and a bunch of surly or frightened soldiers strapped to the walls, but at least there weren’t any screaming children or people with wandering elbows.

“Maybe we could drive back,” Sloane huffed as they stepped out of the gate and into the terminal.

Dean looked up at him, smirking. “Your turn to be grumpy now?”

“It’salwaysmy turn to be grumpy. You just like to steal it like you steal the fucking covers,” Sloane grumbled.

It was true. Sloane had no idea how someone Dean’s size could be so aggressive and effective at blanket stealing. If Sloane wasn’t careful to tuck one end of the blanket under himself at night, Dean was likely to steal it, wrapping himself tightly in a cocoon.

Dean snorted, tugging on Sloane’s hand. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. The sooner we get to your mom’s house, the sooner we can relax.”

Sloane gave him a skeptical look. “Do you remember Easter? We’re not going to have a moment to ourselves. There’s not going to be any relaxing.”

Dean laughed, still pulling Sloane along behind him. Sloane tried desperately not to smile at the sound but failed miserably. He’d always thought Dean had a nice laugh, loud and coming from deep in his chest. It rarely failed to make him smile, though, over the past six months, he’d found it also gave him a fluttery feeling in his chest. As a matter of fact, there were a great many things Dean did that left Sloane feeling fluttery and a little lightheaded.

He wasn’t sure if dizziness was supposed to be part of being in love, but he’d take it.