Page 108 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

His friend laughed again, shaking his head.

“Fair enough. If anyone had known I was pining after Sloane for all those years, they would have told me to back off and let it go. I probably would have growled at them and told them to leave it alone. And now look at me, in a relationship with my formerly straight best friend and living my dream.”

“So, there’s always hope?” Marco asked, lips quirking.

Dean smiled, uncrossing his legs. “Always. Doesn’t mean things will work out, but hope springs eternal, right?”

“I know what I’m risking,” Marco said quietly.

Dean nodded. “I know you do. I’m worried, just like Sloane is, but he’s too used to protecting people to back up and let you do what you need to do.”

“You came here to defend your man, didn’t you?” Marco asked dryly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, I told him he’d gone too far last night, and he needs to understand that even if it comes from a good place, there are better ways to behave.”

“God, I’m sure he’s in a good mood today,” Marco muttered.

Dean grinned. “Don’t you worry about his mood. I took care of that after I was done telling him what was what.”

“Oh. Thank you for that, just what I wanted to think about,” Marco complained.

“The man with rough sex marks on him doesn’t get to complain.”

“Fair point.”

Dean leaned forward, steepling his fingers between his knees. “And if you’re right about him, you will need to be careful. If he’s being defensive, he’s got a good reason and probably knows he has a good reason. He’s not going to want to let go of those defenses.”

“I know.”

“And it might end badly.”

“I know that too.”

“Or could just be rough, ugly, and hard for no reason.”

“Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Or it could end up being a combination of things. Which is why I came over here, to make sure you were alright and to make sure you understand.”

“Well, you covered those bases quite well,” Marco told him with a frown. “I’m not sure if I like that it’s coming off a little condescending, but you succeeded.”

Dean’s lips curled upward. “And I also came over to tell you I’ve got your back. And I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me about this, alright? Even if it’s just to vent or get your head on straight. I’m worried, but that doesn’t keep me from helping however I can, alright?”

Marco bowed his head, nodding slowly. “I know.”

And he did. His frustration drained out of him. He had good friends, and even if they might piss him off, Dean and Sloane did support him.

“Oh hey, you have text messages. Are they dirty?” Dean asked brightly. “They’re from Carter.”

Marco darted forward, snatching the phone from his friend. “Give me that!”

“God,” Dean said, still grinning. “We really do have similar tastes in men. How the hell did we even date each other?”

Marco scowled as he looked down at the messages Carter had sent.

Admiral Douchebag is trying to run me ragged, fuck him.

Btw, you eat anything other than Thai food?

I hope so cuz we’re fucking getting tacos soon, and I don’t wanna hear you bitch about it either.

Marco shook his head, marking that, once again, Carter was saying plenty without actually saying it aloud.

“Ooh,” Dean grunted as he watched Marco. “You do have a touch of it, don’t you?”

“A touch of what?” Marco asked distractedly as he informed Carter that, yes, he did eat other foods and tacos sounded great.

“You’re smitten as hell,” Dean informed him as he stood up. “I don’t think I ever saw that look on your face before. Not with me or anyone else.”

Marco looked up, frowning. “I liked you!”

“You still like me.”

“Not like that.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, but even back then, when you and I kinda sorta were a thing. I never saw that look on your face. I wonder if Carter’s caught it yet.”

Marco groaned. “Don’t, he’d probably lose his mind.”

“Or fall madly, deeply, completely in love with you, transformed by the power of your love,” Dean proclaimed in a wispy voice.

Marco pointed to the door. “Out with you, and take your bag with you.”

Dean went, still laughing. “It’s not for me. It’s for you. I was the one who bought them, but...well, they’re from that little bakery you like.”

Marco’s eyes widened. “Eclairs?”

“Homemade from top to bottom,” Dean informed him, opening the door. “And don’t forget what I said. Talk to me, Marco, for both the good and bad.”

“I will,” Marco promised.

Dean winked as he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

It took only a few seconds before Marco’s desire for sugary, fat-heavy pastries got the better of him, and he marched over to the paper bag.

He stopped when he saw a folded piece of paper sitting atop the wax paper of each individually wrapped pastry.

Frowning, he reached in, took the paper out, and opened it to read the brief message.

I’m not apologizing. Be safe.

Marco groaned, knowing that handwriting from the times he’d seen reminder messages from Sloane scattered around him and Dean’s previous apartment.

It had been Sloane who had probably told Dean to pick up the pastries, knowing they were Marco’s favorite.

Then he’d had Dean slip in a note, which was Sloane’s normal, brusque style, yet he managed to convey perfectly that despite everything, he had Marco’s back.

Marco glanced at his phone and then at the letter in his hand.

“Jesus, we really do have similar taste in men,” Marco muttered, contenting himself with his life and a custard-filled eclair.