Page 7 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

“Okay, well, maybe it’s not, but getting mad isn’t going to help,” Marco said.

“Alright, but have you considered that you were slow to tell him about us for a reason? Maybe you knew this was coming, and maybe it’s not all that bad?”

“How is this not bad? He was horrible!”

“He was a little...rude, yeah, you got me there. But c’mon, the two of you have been close for a while now, and he’s bound to feel out of sorts after having this dropped in his lap.”

Dean hooked his finger through the keyring and yanked the whole collection out with a satisfied grunt. “I didn’t drop anything in his lap. For God’s sake, Marco, the man is my best friend. He shouldn’t be pissed off that I’m dating. It’s not like I got mad whenever he was dating someone.”

“I thought you said he doesn’t date.”

“He doesn’t, not seriously, but there could have been, at any time, and I didn’t act like a complete shit about it.”

“No, but you’re also not him. You told me he’s pretty protective and a little territorial.”

Dean frowned. “How does this not bother you?”

“It bothers me because you’re so upset.”

“Oh God, don’t pull the good guy card right now. That just makes me feel even worse.”

Marco sighed. “That’s the problem. You’re taking this like you’re somehow responsible for it, and you’re not.

On some level, you knew there might be a problem, and now you see you were right.

Just give him and give you some time to breathe and figure it out.

I bet this was just a knee-jerk response on his part.

If he’s as good a guy as you say he is, he’s going to feel like dirt. ”

“Which he should!”

“Dean.”

“Well, he should.”

Marco paused. “You’re...standing outside his apartment building right now, aren’t you?”

“We need to talk,” Dean said.

“Or, you could step back and breathe. If you go in there, one or both of you could end up saying something you’ll regret.”

“I think he has that covered already.”

“Well, I’m not going to try and stop you, but I will say that I don’t think it’s a good idea with you locked in the throes of a pissed-off mood.”

“Duly noted.”

“But disregarded?”

“Completely.”

Marco sighed heavily. “Okay, well, if you need to talk after you’re...done, just give me a call, or just summon me over.”

Dean grunted. “Thanks.”

“Talk to you soon.”

Dean ended the call, sliding his phone back into his pocket and twirling the keys around his finger as he stared at the front door to Sloane’s apartment building.

He knew Sloane was home because he wasn’t scheduled for a shift today.

Dean had already called the guardhouse and checked.

Sloane wasn’t known for a whole lot of socializing, and he tended to stay at home on his days off or at Dean’s.

Before he could think too hard about how right Marco probably was, Dean stomped toward the door and up the stairs to Sloane’s apartment.

Swinging the keys one more time, he flipped the key he needed forward and jammed it into the lock.

To his surprise, the door opened easily, without him needing to unlock the deadbolt.

Despite being on the relative safety of the base, Sloane’s childhood growing up in the seedier parts of Chicago had ingrained a lifelong habit of security, and he never kept his deadbolt unlocked.

“Sloane?” Dean called as he stepped through the door, glancing around.

Sloane’s wry voice followed a thump from the kitchen. “You’re a couple of hours later than I expected.”

Dean frowned. “The door was unlocked.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d be coming.”

Well, that solved that mystery, at least. And with that, Dean’s temporary worry faded, and his anger slammed back into place.

“Well, at least you know why I’m here,” Dean grunted, shoving the door closed.

Sloane appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands with a hand towel. “There really aren’t that many reasons you’d be here right now.”

Dean cocked his head. “Yeah, you’re right. Especially when the guy who’s supposed to be my best friend, and support me in shit, decides to act like a complete dick for no reason.”

Sloane’s brow shot up. “Really, we’re going to pull the best friend card now?”

“Yeah, Sloane. I am. Because last I checked, that’s what best friends were supposed to do, back each other up. What you did last night was the complete opposite.”

Sloane chucked the towel somewhere out of sight. “Yeah, and best friends aren’t supposed to keep things from one another, but guess what you did?”

Dean motioned to Sloane. “Wow, I wonder why I was so worried about telling you? Maybe it’s because of the exact way you acted last night?”

Never had he been so frustrated with Sloane.

Dean wasn’t so blind he didn’t see that Sloane could be excessively grouchy and more than a little aggressive at times.

For the most part, Dean was willing to shrug it off, knowing most of it was all bark, and sometimes, he even found it amusing.

Typically, Dean could pull Sloane back from the edge if his friend grew too aggressive or mean, and it had never been focused on something or someone close to Dean.

Until now.

Sloane crossed his arms. “You’ve been seeing this guy for weeks, keeping it from me. Then you tell me, and just what? Expect me to be instantly okay with you keeping shit from me?”

“You were the one who said you were perfectly fine with meeting him!” Dean shot back.

“What the fuck else was I supposed to say, Dean? One minute everything is fine, then I find out you’ve been seeing someone and doing it for weeks without so much as a mention.”

Dean growled. “What the fuck does it matter?”

“It matters because you were keeping it a secret.”

“Again, we go right back to you being a giant dick to someone who didn’t deserve it! If your issue was with me, you should have said something to me instead of taking it out on Marco for no good fucking reason.”

“Maybe I don’t like him.”

“Maybe you’re an asshole.”

Sloane’s nostrils flared. “We already knew that.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, stomping up to Sloane. “Which was fine when you weren’t doing it to someone I gave a shit about, and you fucking know it. You knew damn well I was into Marco and that it meant something to me, and you were still a giant asshole to him.”

Sloane glared, his jaw tightening. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have kept him a secret from me.”

Dean let out a cry of frustration. “And maybe I shouldn’t have to report every little detail of my life to you in order to make sure you aren’t a bastard to someone.”

Sloane dropped his arms, balling his hands into fists at his side. “And why is this any different, hmm?”

Dean hesitated, accusing finger drooping as he felt the weight of Sloane’s question fall around him. “What...what?”

“Why is this suddenly different from anything else? Why can you tell me about when your mom found you with your boyfriend before you enlisted? Why can you tell me about how you secretly hate guns? Why can you tell me about, fuck, I don’t know, the last time you hooked up, but you can’t tell me that you’re seeing some guy? ”

Dean’s chest tightened, and he brought a hand protectively to it. “How do you have the balls to ask me that after last night?”

“Don’t change the fucking subject, Dean.”

“The entire subject was about you acting like a complete and utter asshole in the first place!”

Sloane’s eyes flashed. “And I just fucking told you I’m pissed you decided to keep it a secret from me! So how about you tell me why you thought you needed to keep this a secret when you tell me about anything fucking else.”

Dean stepped back, grinding his teeth. “Because you can be a dick.”

“I have never been an asshole to you before. I have never treated you as anything but the best friend you are. So why the hell would you think it was necessary to keep it from me?”

“Sloane,” Dean warned.

“You could have just casually mentioned you were going on a date. Or shit, mentioned you’d had a date and how great it was.”

“Sloane.”

“You could have told me after the second date. You could have told me after you guys decided to fuck. Hell, you told me any other time you fucked someone, why not this time?”

“Sloane.”

Sloane was practically bellowing. “So why not this time, Dean? Huh? Why not this fucking time?”

Dean’s temper snapped, and he shoved Sloane away from him. “Because it’s been hard enough being in fucking love with you for almost six goddamn years!”

Sloane stumbled, taken off guard by Dean’s words and his shove and gaped. “What?”

Dean’s eyes stung as he realized what he was saying, but he’d been pushed into a corner and unable to help himself. The truth was out in that one instant, and the rest poured from him as he forced himself to grip his shirt desperately.

“For six fucking years, I’ve been hanging on to some stupid, thin thread, swinging back and forth between hoping and knowing it will never happen.

I’ve been crazy about you since we first became friends.

Maybe it wasn’t that deep initially, but I knew how I felt by the time we left Basic.

All I’ve wanted for six years, six fucking years, was you, Sloane. ”

It felt like his lungs were on fire as he heaved in a gasp of air, trying to keep his voice steady but knowing he was failing.

Dean remembered what it had been like alone and trapped behind a dune as armed insurgents bore down on him, pouring bullets into the air around him.

Trapped, with limited ammunition and no one close, Dean had faced down the inevitability of his death and, perhaps, even his capture.

Staring death in the face had been so much easier than speaking the words that felt as though they were being ripped from his throat, but they kept coming.

“It’s taken me this long even to start to get over it, to accept the fact that no matter how great we are together, this is all we’ll ever be.

And you know what? I’ve had to accept that this is fine, that this is wonderful.

So long as I have a friend like you, I can be okay, even if it’s not exactly what I wanted.

I worked at it, I fought for it, I fucking lost my shit over it, but I finally got to the point where I could try. ”

Sloane hadn’t moved, his eyes wide as he leaned against the wall silently. Dean took a step away, reeling from the emotions pounding through him. It felt like if he didn’t find a way to calm down, his chest would burst.

“And I did it, okay? I got out there, and I found Marco. And he’s good to me.

He’s funny, smart, and good-looking. And every fucking time I’m with him, I have to remind myself that he’s not you .

And he never will be, and I have to be okay with that.

So yeah, telling you, the man I’ve been secretly pining for like some lovesick, stupid thirteen-year-old for six years, would have been too much for me until I had the fucking courage to say it out loud and face the truth that you’ll never, never love me like I love you. ”

Dean’s voice finally failed him, trailing into a faint whisper, so quiet it wouldn’t have been heard if the apartment hadn’t been dead silent.

Sloane stared at him, the hand held against the wall slowly dropping to his side.

Seconds ticked by as they stared at one another, and the reality of what Dean had done began to sink in.

Sloane’s voice shook when he finally spoke. “Dean?—”

Whatever remained of Dean’s courage and willpower snapped, and he turned and fled.

Sloane called out after him, and Dean ignored it, shoving through the door and down the stairs.

As soon as the outside air hit him, Dean took a huge, wretched gasp as his feet almost tangled around one another, spilling him onto the sidewalk.

Not wanting to stay there for too long, and risk Sloane catching up to him, Dean righted himself and kept running.

Honestly, he was sure if anyone saw him, they’d wonder what the hell was wrong.

His pace wasn’t that of a man trying to exercise in his free time, and he certainly wasn’t dressed for it.

He was gasping like he’d been running for miles but ignored it until he finally reached one of the beaches outside the base.

The sand managed what his feet hadn’t, and Dean tripped as the loose sediment gave way, dumping him face-first on the beach. Dean caught himself, bowing his head as his back heaved with each breath. Sweat coated his skin, sand sticking to it as he pushed himself onto his knees.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped, realizing what he’d done.

All he’d wanted was to chew Sloane out for being an asshole.

Maybe they would fight, have it out right there, maybe even throw a punch or two in the process; he didn’t know.

He’d expected the two of them to face the problem head-on and find a way to get over it just as quickly.

Never in his wildest imaginings had he seen himself spilling his secret.

“Oh, fuck. What am I going to do?” he moaned.