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Dean’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, Sloane! What the hell are you doing?”

“Learning that you have one hell of a right hook, holy shit is right,” Sloane grumbled, rubbing his jaw.

“You scared the hell out of me!”

“Hitting someone when they startle you is new,” Sloane said.

Dean blinked, turning to close the door. “Old habits.”

Sloane didn’t need Dean’s distant tone to tell him what the man was thinking. Dean glanced at him, and Sloane could see the shadow of Dean’s nightmares again. Sloane reached out, taking hold of Dean’s arm and squeezing it gently. Dean gave him a grateful smile, taking hold of Sloane’s arm and returning the pressure. They stood there in silence as Dean accepted not only that Sloane finally knew his blood-soaked story, the only other person who did, but the silent comfort Sloane offered him.

Dean drew his hand away. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment, Sloane had to wonder the same thing, distracted by the warmth still lingering where Dean’s hand had been. Had he always felt like that after Dean touched him, or was that new? Despite feeling confident in his decision, Sloane still couldn’t decide what was different and what he saw differently.

“Sloane?”

He looked up, startled, as he realized he was still staring down at his arm. Dean was watching him, worry heavy in his dark brown eyes. Sloane’s chest constricted as he looked Dean in the eye, desperately trying to remember what he was supposed to say.

Sloane cleared his throat. “I...wanted to talk to you.”

Dean’s gaze was guarded. “That’s fair. I guess it’s about time we talked. Should I get us something to drink?”

“Umm, is that a good idea?” Sloane asked, his cheeks flushing as he remembered the sight of Dean’s face between his legs.

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I guess not.”

“Plus, I’d rather be sober for this anyway,” Sloane admitted.

“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better. And if so, whether or not it’s working,” Dean said slowly.

Sloane sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to think about what he wanted to say. The thought sent a rippleof frustration through him since that was all he’d been thinking about for the past couple of days. Everything he’d rehearsed, broken down, and memorized had fled his mind. He was going to end up screwing everything up like he had the last time he’d tried to fix things between him and Dean when all he wanted was to make things right, make them perfect.

Warm fingers slipped into his hand, pulling it away from his face. Sloane opened his eyes, looking down at his hand and then up at Dean. His friend was smiling softly and squeezed Sloane’s hand gently.

“It’s okay, Sloane,” Dean said softly.

“I should be the one saying that to you. You’re the one who’s been hurt the most by all this,” Sloane grumbled.

“It hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk for you,” Dean said.

Sloane gripped Dean’s hand tighter, taking comfort in the familiar contact. “The difference is that I’ve only been bothered by this whole thing for a while. You’ve been hurting over this for years, Dean.”

Dean smiled sadly. “I can’t blame you for being bothered by it, and I was used to it. It’s not like it was your fault.”

Sloane winced. “I didn’t mean I was bothered in like...a bad way. I just?—”

He grunted, turning away with a growl of frustration. It was exactly like he’d feared. Nothing was coming out of his mouth right. His family was far better at explaining their emotions than he was at even understanding them. Never had he hated that shortcoming as much as now, when he was trying to figure out how to explain his thoughts to Dean. It felt like everything he said was going to wound Dean more.

“Like, look. Being with you is great, it’s wonderful. Shit, even before all this, I said that being around you was better than just about every girl I was with. I’d rather you be the one laying your head on my leg than any girl in the past five years,” Sloane said.

Dean chuckled. “I remember you saying once that it was a shame I couldn’t give you a blowjob along with the good cuddles.”

Sloane cringed. “God, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Dean raised one shoulder and let it drop. “It’s okay.”

Sloane shook his head. “But it’s not.”