Page 12 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

But last night hadn’t been like any other drunken night.

A thump drew him around, and he whirled to face the sound.

Immediately, he regretted the decision as the room spun, forcing him to grip the nearby chair to stay upright.

The sudden shot of pain through his skull he could live with, but the sight of Sloane standing at the end of the hallway was something he wasn’t ready for.

“Hungover?” Sloane asked with a rasp.

“Oh, you got it going,” Sloane said as he stopped in the kitchen doorway.

Dean nodded. “You know me, got to have my cup.”

Sloane grunted. “Right, you have your shift today.”

Dean blinked, turning around to try and find his phone.

In the wake of his hangover and the realization of what they’d done, Dean had almost completely forgotten about his upcoming shift at the clinic.

A weird mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through him when he saw he still had another hour before he had to leave.

“Running late?” Sloane asked.

Was that hope in his voice?

Dean shrugged. “I woke up early, I guess. Never sleep very well when I drink too much.”

“You don’t normally drink that much,” Sloane noted.

Dean glanced at him and found he couldn’t read his friend’s expression.

It could just be the hangover Sloane was possibly feeling, or more likely, Sloane was just as freaked out by what had happened as Dean.

If it was the second case, Dean couldn’t blame him, and he was more surprised Sloane was even bothering to talk to him.

“I guess it got out of hand,” Dean admitted.

Sloane said nothing, chewing his bottom lip as he watched Dean.

Dean was the first to look away, unwilling to endure Sloane's thoughtful but distant expression anymore. How had he gone from years of keeping his secret to blabbing it in the heat of a moment and then pushing himself onto Sloane? How Sloane wasn’t mad, frustrated, or even outright upset was a puzzle to Dean, but he hated the silence stretching between them.

Sloane glanced in the kitchen. “I think your coffee is ready.”

“Not going to have any?” Dean asked.

Sloane shook his head. “Just getting a bottle of water and going back to bed.”

Which required him to get dressed first, of course.

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head as he tried to ignore his heart pounding.

If he let himself think too much about what happened and what was going on, he would lose his mind.

They had been so close to getting things back to normal, and then he’d thrown it all away in a moment of drunken impulsivity.

Sloane looked him over, a frown creasing his brow. “Dean.”

Dean shook his head, giving a laugh he didn’t feel. “I think I’m going to head out and get things set up. Weekends are always the busiest.”

Sloane hesitated and then nodded. “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

Dean almost laughed again, knowing Sloane had to be relieved to see Dean go.

He did, however, force a smile as he gathered the bottles and the glasses to clean up before he left.

Sloane shuffled out of his way as Dean hurried into the kitchen.

With that done, he grabbed the travel mug he always left at Sloane’s and filled it with coffee.

“Text me later?” Dean asked brightly as he yanked on his boots.

Sloane nodded as he retreated to his bedroom, the bottle of water in hand. “Yeah, don’t forget to eat.”

The casual, friendly reminder should have made him feel better, but instead, Dean took it like a stab to the gut. It had sounded so perfunctory, a product of habit, and Sloane still hadn’t looked at him.

Maybe he would volunteer for a double shift.

The smell of something spicy and rich brought his head up. Sniffing at the air, Dean turned in his chair to find Troy standing in the doorway. The man was smirking, holding a plastic bag as he waited.

Dean eyed it. “What’s that?”

Troy wiggled it. “For you, if you’re good.”

Dean’s stomach rumbled, but he eyed his friend warily. “Define good.”

“You eat it and stop being so weird.”

Dean frowned. “I’m not being weird.”

Troy raised a thin brow. “Right, because normally, when you’re hungover, you’re a grumpy shit. But you’ve been hungover the whole shift and haven’t growled at me once.”

“You...want me to be grumpy?”

“I want you to stop acting weird.”

Dean looked at the bag again. “Is that curry?”

“Might be.”

“From India’s Delights?”

“Could be.”

“Troy,” Dean growled in warning.

Troy grinned, holding out the bag. “There we go.”

Dean snatched the bag, mouth watering as he yanked out the takeout container and slapped it on his desk. He’d been wondering how he would get through another shift without eating, and now the answer had been dropped in his lap. Maybe he wouldn’t regret volunteering to work a double after all.

Troy plopped himself down on Dean’s desk. “So, what’s up with you anyway?”

Dean shoved a forkful in his mouth, moaning as the spice lit up his tongue. He eyed Troy, shrugging as he gathered another mouthful.

“Shoving food in your mouth isn’t going to save you from my questions,” Troy said.

“But I can try,” Dean noted.

“You not get any sleep again?” Troy asked.

“I sleep,” Dean protested.

“Yeah, and sometimes you go through stretches of sleeping like total shit.”

That was true, but Dean hadn’t known it had been obvious to anyone but Sloane and maybe Marco.

Usually, when his sleep was disrupted by the nightmares of his last mission before returning to the States, he retreated to Sloane’s.

Dean wasn’t sure if Sloane knew Dean slept better when he stayed in his apartment, surrounded by the man’s presence and even the faint hint of his cologne, but he never questioned when Dean showed up without warning to crash on his couch.

Dread settled in his gut, and Dean realized the night before had been the first time he’d slept poorly at Sloane’s.

“You and Sloane get into it again?”

Dean choked on his food. “Excuse me?”

Troy snorted. “It’s obvious you two had some sort of falling out before. I thought you being quiet today meant you two had talked, but you’ve just been weirdly quiet.”

True, Dean hadn’t exactly felt sociable, but he didn’t think that was so odd. He could easily go through a shift without needing to socialize, but Troy usually ensured that he did. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he had been unusually clipped in his conversations with Troy.

“No, we didn’t fight,” Dean said truthfully.

“Things not work out with you and Marco?” Troy guessed.

Dean cringed, really wishing Troy would stop.

The last thing he wanted to think about was Marco while trying to make sense of what he’d done.

True, he and Marco were still in the casual dating stage, but it didn’t make Dean feel any better.

Not that he felt as though he had crossed a line.

He was safe in that regard, if only because he’d been too afraid to commit to Marco yet.

But if he was still so hung up on Sloane that he was willing to give the guy head in the heat of the moment without a second thought, what did that say about the possible longevity of a potential relationship with Marco?

“Nothing happened with Marco,” Dean said finally.

Troy eyed him, smiling. “You gonna tell me anything?”

“You’re being nosy.”

“I’m concerned. You’ve been in a foul mood forever, and apparently, Sloane has too. Now you show up today, and you’re practically on a different plane of existence.”

Dean pushed his food around, chewing slowly as he considered what to say. Troy might be chatty, but Dean knew he wouldn’t blabber to everyone who might listen. The two of them worked well together for a reason, and Dean had come to trust the man.

But the idea of telling the whole story filled him with dread.

Dean sighed. “We’re not...fighting, but things are really strained with Sloane and me at the moment.”

“Because?”

Dean looked up, wincing apologetically. “Would you blame me if I said I don’t want to get into it?”

Troy cocked his head, then sighed. “Alright, then, what will you tell me?”

Dean frowned. “We were fighting before. That’s why I was in such a bad mood.”

“Right, I already figured that out on my own.”

“And last night, we kind of got over it?”

“Kind of.”

“We agreed we wanted to be friends again and deal with the fight when we weren’t acting like idiots.”

Troy laughed. “One of these days, I want a friendship like you two have.”

“Dysfunctional and stupid?” Dean asked.

“You’re both idiots, but you’re idiots who get along perfectly. You know how many friends I’ve had who let our friendship go over one fight? You two had a fight and were miserable shits for over a week, and then you meet up and just want to move on.”

Dean raised a brow. “Shouldn’t you be telling me that it’s not healthy to ignore what caused the fight?”

Troy shook his head. “Why? Not every argument has to be something you need to talk about. Sometimes, talking about every little problem is what causes more problems. If you two need to talk about it, then do it. Otherwise, who gives a shit? Better to be back to being friends and deal with it when you’re calm and have thought about it. ”

Dean grunted. “I guess that was our thinking.”

“Plus, if it stops you from constantly being a snarky asshole, I’ll take it.”

Dean glared at him. “Thanks.”

Troy winked. “I much prefer you happy and not so miserable you look like you hate everything, Dean. You and Sloane are probably the best duo I’ve ever seen, and he actually seems happy around you.”

Dean snorted softly, staring down at his cooling food. “Don’t know if that’s the case anymore.”

“Is this where you don’t tell me what’s caused this new problem?”

Dean shrugged, refusing to look up. “I...went too far with something. Definitely pushed over the line, and now we’re both just...well, I wouldn’t blame him for hating me.”

Troy hummed, his finger tapping on the desktop. “Just enough detail to make me curious about the rest.”

Dean sighed. “Troy.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. Look, I won’t even try to guess what you’re talking about because that’s asking for trouble. What I will say, though, is that you need to stop overthinking it.”

“And if I have good reason for it?” Dean asked.

“You always think you do, but that doesn’t make you right. Just...look, the man’s your best friend, and he’s not going to hate you. Unless you, like, hurt his family or something, then yeah, but otherwise? It’s obvious to anyone who’s been around you two that there’s something special there.”

Dean looked up sharply. “Something special?”

Troy chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered if there was more going on with you two than you let on.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Stop, it’s just a thought. Don’t get me wrong, you two would be a cute couple, and sometimes I still wonder, but you guys are what you are.

Ultimately, that’s all that matters, and you shouldn’t worry too much.

Sloane’s a stubborn jerk, and you’re just as hardheaded.

You guys aren’t going to fall apart that easily. ”

“You really thought something was going on with us?” Dean asked.

Troy screwed up his face in thought. “Weird, but not on your end. On his, though? Yeah, I have.”

“You thought the straight guy had something going for me?” Dean asked incredulously.

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.