Page 68 of Melting the Ice

“Let’s not fuck around anymore,” Brody said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. And okay,fair, that was not really what he’d meant.

“Imean,” Brody regrouped, “let’s fuck around some more. A lot more, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want that?” Brody had noticed Dean liked to answer questions with other questions. It was annoying, but not surprising.

Still, he’d thought he’d managed to get under those walls at this point, at least for a little while.

Dean didn’t say anything for a long minute. And this time, there was no awkwardness. Dean was standing there, in the dim light of their kitchen, pants around his ankles, dick hanging out, and he wasn’t looking away from Brody or looking like he wanted to run away.

And Brody had to wonder if last time, a lot of that awkwardness he’d felt had actually come fromhim. If he’d been so shocked and so floored and so overwhelmed by his world expanding around him in that dizzying rush that he’d imagined Dean felt the same.

But maybe Dean hadn’t felt the same.

From the way it was looking now, he hadn’t.

“Listen,” Brody said when he couldn’t take that long, slow perusal of Dean’s gaze any longer, “I know I didn’t react very well the last time we did this.”

Dean raised an eyebrow again.

“Okay, I reacted like total shit. Ran off like a complete asshole,” Brody retorted.

“It was a big thing.”

“Not just for me,” Brody pointed out dryly.

“We’re all gonna react to the news that we’re not always what we thought we were differently,” Dean drawled. “So, yeah, no, you didn’t. But it’s alright. I just thought . . .you wouldn’t want to do it again. Then you were so insistent on being friends . . .”

“That’s a lot of words for you,” Brody teased.

Dean shot him a look that seared him all the way to his toes.

“I don’t want there to be any more confusion. I liked it. I liked it then. I liked it tonight. I’d do it some more, if you wanted.”

“And you want to, too?” Brody asked, hating how insecure he sounded.

Dean shook his head, a glimmer of a smile emerging on his face. “Pretty boy, I thought it was plenty obvious what I wanted.”

“Alright, then,” Brody said, smiling, because it turned out he couldn’t hide his delight at this—or his incredulity. They’d been dancing around each other these last few weeks, when they could’ve been doingthis.

Whateverthiswas.

Maybe they couldn’t put a name on it—maybeBrodycouldn’t put a name on it, yet—but he knew he wanted to keep doing it.

Wasn’t sure he couldstopdoing it.

“Anytime you want me, you just gotta say,” Dean said, and Brody could appreciate how both of them were making an effort to avoid the same kind of misunderstanding that had plagued them these last few weeks.

“And what about you?” Brody slid closer and didn’t stop himself from doing what he wanted, which was to put his hands back on that amazing body. Right onto those broad shoulders, curling his fingertips into the muscle there.

Dean laughed. “Oh, you don’t gotta worry about me.”

“No?”

“Trust me, I’m gonna be bothering you,” Dean said lightly, leaning down and brushing a quick, reassuring kiss across his lips.

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