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Troy shrugged. “Call it a hunch, call it idle fantasy, I don’t know.”

Dean rolled his eyes, jabbing Troy with the plastic fork. “Now we’re getting into your weird fantasies. It's time to call this meeting to an end.”

“Hey,” Troy protested, wiping his arm.

A deep voice cleared its throat behind them, and Dean turned in his chair. A dark-haired man with even darker eyes stared at them, turning his gaze from Dean before locking back on Troy. Dean didn’t think he’d seen the man before, looking him over.

The man nodded toward Dean. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Dean looked down, catching sight of the spot where the soldier’s hand should have been. Instead, there was just a loose sleeve.

“Oscar?” Troy asked quietly.

“Yeah. Hi, Troy.”

Dean glanced between them, his brow slowly rising. “You two...know each other?”

Troy tore his gaze from Oscar. “Knew.”

The lines on Oscar’s face deepened, looking pained. “General Winter told me I needed to come here for a checkup before going on duty.”

Dean looked between them again before pointing at Troy with his fork. “He’ll get you all set up and checked out.”

Troy whirled on him, eyes wide. “What?”

Dean pointed down at his takeout container. “I’m at lunch.”

“That I bought you!”

“And I’m so grateful that I want to finish it before it gets cold.”

Troy’s eyes narrowed. “You?—”

Dean winked. “I know.”

He had no idea what was going on in his cubicle, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. It was hard to tell if Troy was really unhappy or if he was just thrown off balance. However, Dean knew it was better for his friend to deal with the situation rather than let it fester, so he shooed him off.

As he turned back to his food, shifting it around carefully, Dean wondered how long it would be until he took his own advice.

SLOANE

Sloane reached out, snatching the phone from Simmons’ hand. “Go do a perimeter check.”

John blinked at him. “What’d I do?”

Sloane slapped Simmons’ phone on the desk. “Driving me crazy.”

“How’s that different from any other day?”

Sloane pointed at the door with a growl. “Go.”

Simmons huffed, pushing out of his seat. “Jesus, fine. Maybe you can stop being a fucking asshole by the time I come back.”

Sloane opened his mouth and slammed it shut. The last thing he needed was to lose his shit with John Simmons. The man was a royal pain in the ass, but he didn’t deserve to catch the flak for something that had nothing to do with him.

Not that Sloane had any other outlet to funnel his emotions. Not that he knew exactly what his emotions were. He’d been sitting on his thoughts for over a day, and Sloane still had no idea where he stood on what had happened.

The night was crystal clear in his mind, and without the blurring effects of alcohol tilting his thoughts, he understood precisely what they’d done. Without thinking, pulled by the heatof the moment, Sloane had encouraged Dean to do what they shouldn’t have done.