Page 72 of Melting the Ice

“Well, uh . . .” Dean had thought he could ask about this easier than he could, but in the end, it turned out this was more nerve-wracking than he’d imagined.

“Just ask me, Dean. I promise. No judging.” Wes shot him a quicksilver smile. “Not like you haven’t learned more about me and Marcus than you ever wanted to know.”

“That’s true,” Dean retorted. He’d even walked in on them more than once.

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you, then,” he said.

Nothing except his pride.

“How do you . . .you know . . .decidewho’s gonna do . . .” Dean trailed off, not sure if he hated himself more for asking this or Wes for convincing him to ask in the first place.

“Oh come on, I’m dying of anticipation here,” Wes said. “I’m practicallybeggingyou to ask me now.”

“How do you decide who . . .uh . . .does the butt stuff?”

Dean couldn’t help his face from flaming bright red when Wes threw his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you should see yourface,” Wes said, still cackling.

Dean nearly got up and left. It hadn’t been easy for him to ask, and Wes finding his question hilarious had been almost the last straw. This was why he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

But Wes knew him—knew him better than anybody, probably—and right before he hefted himself out of the chair, Wes leaned over and put a hand on his arm and his expression softened from hilarity to empathy.

“I shouldn’t have laughed, I’m sorry,” Wes repeated, but this time he genuinely looked like he regretted it. “I just wasn’t expecting that or for you to say it like that.”

“How else am I supposed to say it?” Dean demanded.

Wes shook his head. “It was fine. It was perfect. I’m just saying—you don’t usually talk about sex.”

“I’m not usually having sex,” Dean retorted.

“Exactly. But I’m glad you are. I’m glad you’re exploring this part of you, and without shame, too. That’s a big thing.I . . .uh . . .truth be told, there isn’t a right answer. It’s what you two decide together. Maybe it’s one of you, maybe it’s both of you, maybe it’snoneof you.”

“None?”

“What have you done so far?” Wes asked.

Dean’s face went bright red again. “Uh. Barely anything. Honestly. We both get so worked up just from kissing we just . . .”

Wes’ expression softened even further. “I’m happy for you, you know that?”

“It’s not . . .it’s not like that,” Dean stuttered. But he was thinking, even though he’d been the one to label it, telling Brody that they were going to be friends with benefits, that it was already more than that for him.

He didn’t let people in close. But he’d let Brody in.

And it definitely wasn’t a platonic thing, because Brody made him sweat like nobody else had, ever.

Still, it made sense to try to keep it casual. In two years, he’d be drafted, and Brody would be doing something brilliant. Science or hockey, it didn’t matter which, ’cause he was good at both.

They’d probably end up on opposite sides of the country, and well, Dean already knew it was better to not get too attached.

“But itcouldbe like that,” Wes said softly, earnestly.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I like the guy, as a friend. As . . .as . . .as more, I guess. But you know the situation. Better than most.”

“Yeah,” Wes agreed. “You know how guilty I feel, making Marcus wait around on me, his future being determined bymyfuture.”

“But he chose that,” Dean reminded him.

---