Page 150 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

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

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

“It’s busier than I thought for a small airport,” Dean commented as they approached the escalators leading to the front lobby.

“You’re so pessimistic,” Dean said, though he did so fondly.

“This from the man who was ready to kill someone at the last airport,” Sloane said.

Dean shrugged as they descended. “I got over it.”

“You mean you took a nap and made up for staying up late to ensure we had everything packed for the trip,” Sloane said.

“That too. But are we going to be able to find your family in all this mess?”

“I think we’ll have absolutely no problem.”

“If you say so.”

Which was good timing as they descended far enough to get a clear view of the lobby.

Despite the seething throng of people, Sloane did not miss the splash of a garish pink sign waving above the crowd.

In equally bright and bold ink, he and Dean’s name had been written above the words ‘Welcome Home.’

“Is that...Shawna?” Dean asked.

Sloane sighed. “Of course it’s Shawna.”

“Aww, they made us a sign,” Dean said.

“Your name is in purple,” Sloane pointed out.

Dean elbowed him. “Which she knows is my favorite color.”

“She only knows it because she had a huge ass crush on you,” Sloane growled, rubbing his side where Dean’s arm had caught him. The man was stronger than he looked.

“And now you have a huge ass crush on me,” Dean bragged. “Oh, look, they covered your name in glitter. That was sweet of them.”

“No, it’s not,” Sloane complained. “She somehow heard about the stripper story and won’t let it go.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter as they stepped off the escalator. “I’d forgotten about that. Damn, I’ll have to remember to bring it up in front of her later.”

Sloane groaned, wondering if it was a good idea for Dean to be around his family.

The story in question had been from one of his earlier leaves, back during his deployment.

His childhood buddy had been getting married and, in the most cliche manner possible, had decided to drag his entire bachelor party to bars and, finally, a strip club.

Sloane was not and never had been a fan of strippers.

Oh sure, he was fully behind someone using their sex appeal to titillate and pay the bills, but they had never been for him.

His buddies, of course, knowing that, wouldn’t stop buying him lap dances.

By the time he stumbled out of the strip club, he was covered in so much glitter he was still finding it a week later in the strangest places.

“Fucking strippers,” Sloane grumbled.

Dean looked over his shoulder, a wry twist to his lips. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be fucking strippers. Especially now.”

It was said as a joke, but it wasn’t the first time Dean had made an offhand comment about Sloane being with a woman.

Sloane understood that Dean was probably worried, or more than worried, considering how in his head Dean could sometimes be about Sloane’s long-lived heterosexuality.

Sloane kept hoping that time would ease the fear as he continued to show he was head over heels for the other man and wanted nothing more than him.

“If I’m fucking a stripper,” Sloane promised him in a low voice. “It’s only going to be if you do a striptease for me one night.”

Dean’s smile turned into genuine amusement. “I’m not stripping for you, Sloane. I have the dancing skills of a giraffe on roller skates.”

“Maybe just stick to taking your clothes off in a sexy way,” Sloane suggested.

“I don’t do sexy,” Dean insisted.

Sloane begged to differ because, like hell, Dean was not sexy. But he didn’t have the chance because his family was swarming over them an instant later. Shawna and Diana leaped toward him, and Sloane barely had a chance to drop his carry-on bag before they slammed into him.

Sloane grunted, quick to wrap an arm around each of them before they fell. “Jesus Christ. You two just saw me earlier this year.”

“That was months ago,” Shawna proclaimed, squeezing his neck.

“Well, don’t fucking choke me over it,” Sloane growled at them.

“Love is pain,” Diana told him, adding her strength to the equation.

“Someone fucking help me,” Sloane wheezed.

“Don’t look at me,” Dean muttered at his side.

At his voice, Shawna brightened and immediately released Sloane.

It left one sister clinging to his left side and the other immediately wrapping herself around a very startled Dean.

Sloane wouldn’t publicly admit he was relieved Dean was taking half the brunt of the greeting, as he loved his boyfriend and did not want to end up in the doghouse, but he was quietly thinking it.

“Shawna!” Dean squawked as she managed to pick him up in the process of her bear hug.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you too. How the hell do you get cuter every time I see you?” Shawna demanded of him.

“Oi,” Sloane growled, swinging around to face her even as Diana held tight to his side. “Behave yourself. You get plenty of boys. Leave mine alone.”

“Did you just call me a slut?” Shawna demanded.

At the same time, Dean glared at him. “Did you just call me a boy?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sloane snarled. “Mom!”

His mother appeared at Dean’s side, smiling her private smile. “Diana, let your brother go. He needs to be able to walk. Shawna, you know full well Sloane didn’t mean any such thing. He can be rude enough without you putting words in his mouth.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Sloane grumbled, half-meaning it as Diana disentangled herself from him.

Despite having seen her only months before at Easter, Sloane felt joy at the mere sight of his mother. Hell, even his sisters made him feel good, pain in the asses that they were. The two younger women retreated to their mother’s side, and for a moment, he realized just how much he’d missed them.

Diana had always looked the most like their mother.

The same cascading waves of dark hair fell down to the middle of their backs, the same dark eyes alight with warmth and mischief.

Shawna usually looked like them, though, like Sloane, she had inherited the hazel eyes of their father and was built thicker than Diana and their mother.

All three of them had inherited their mother’s bronze skin and thick hair, though Shawna had done something with hers, keeping it short and spiking it up in a crazy mess, with a few streaks of what Sloane thought was aqua shot through it.

“The fuck did you do to your hair? Get in a fight with a stylist and lose?” Sloane asked her.

Shawna stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s cute, and you know it.”

His mother ignored them. She approached Sloane, brushing a hand along Dean’s shoulder as she passed and giving him a wink.

But it was Sloane she reached up to, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.

Sloane had stood taller than his mother since he was thirteen and continued to dwarf her.

That never stopped him from bending to her level to hug her.

“Ah, I’ve missed you, baby,” she whispered in his ear, low enough that only he could hear her.

“Missed you too, Mama,” he told her roughly.

She turned her head enough to see Sloane. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

“Way better,” Sloane told her.

She sighed happily at that, drawing back from him. “Good.”

“You’re not going to leave it at that, are you?” Sloane asked.

Her twinkling eyes were all the answer he needed before she turned to Dean. “And you.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh, hi, Ana.”

Before he could say anything else, she drew him into a hug.

Dean stooped into the hug just as Sloane had, though he admittedly didn’t have to bend quite as far.

His arms remained at his sides for a moment, slack with surprise.

As Sloane watched, a slow smile spread over his face, and he reached up, wrapping his arms around the woman hugging him tightly.

“It’s so good to see my boys,” his mother said, loud enough for all of them to hear.

Dean’s face flushed, looking absurdly pleased as he hugged her. “It’s good to see you too, Ana. Thank you for having me over.”

His mother laughed, pulling away and holding Dean by the shoulders. “Even if you weren’t dating my son, you would always be welcome at my home, Dean. You have a place, no matter what.”

Sloane watched Dean’s schizophrenic reaction to his mother’s words.

There were so many emotions flitting across the man’s face even Sloane couldn’t read them all, and he regarded himself as the prime expert on everything Dean.

He did, however, see the flicker of wetness in the man’s eyes, overwhelmed by her words and the thoughts in his head.

“C’mon, Mom, don’t make him cry in public,” Sloane chided, sliding a hand over Dean’s back and holding it there.

“I’m not going to cry, fuck off,” Dean muttered, looking off to the side.

His mother beamed, reaching out to take her daughters’ hands. “Well, let’s get your baggage, and we can get you home where you belong.”

Sloane nodded, looking pointedly at the baggage claim while Dean was distracted. His mother gave him a knowing smile and dragged his sisters off, oblivious to their complaints. Sloane knew better. His mother was the most observant person he’d ever met.

Sloane waited until he was sure no one was paying attention before looking down at Dean. “You okay?”

Dean huffed, wiping his eyes quickly. “I’ve never...had someone be like that with me. Well, other than you.”

Sloane said nothing, if only because the first words out of his mouth would have been some colorful comment about Dean’s parents.

Even with him, Dean didn’t talk much about his parents, and honestly, Sloane couldn’t remember the last time Dean had spoken to them.

They were a strange duo, happier to exist in their sterile bubble of higher middle-class Americana.

Liberal enough not to turn their son away for being gay, but it was a hollow gesture, born of the same thing that motivated them in everything: appearance.

“She loves you. She loved you before she even met you,” Sloane told him.

Dean nodded jerkily. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Sloane asked.

“No,” Dean admitted with a laugh. “I really don’t. I always knew you had a wonderful mother, but I never?—”

“Never thought you’d ever feel something like that yourself,” Sloane finished for him.

“That’s how Moms are supposed to be, aren’t they?” Dean asked, watching the trio of women as they waited beside the baggage claim.

Sloane wasn’t quite sure what to say. So, instead, he took Dean’s hand firmly in his and squeezed. “Let’s let them show you.”

Dean nodded again, saying nothing but returning Sloane’s grip.

His heart ached and soared for his boyfriend, knowing he had been deprived of so much but was being offered the chance for something greater than he’d had before.

And if Dean finally had the opportunity to learn what family meant, what love from more than just Sloane could be like, then Sloane would happily suffer through the hell of traveling.