4. Bjorn #2
“The -” Dennis’s eyes snapped up to his and he tried to yank his hand away, only to be thwarted by Bjorn’s tight grip. “I thought you said you weren’t going to stalk me.”
Bjorn kissed his hand again, even more gently. “Just making conversation.”
Dennis snorted. “Yeah, right. Give me back my hand,” he said, yanking. Reluctantly, Bjorn released his grip. Dennis pulled his hand against his chest and rubbed it as if he’d been burned. “I’m not giving you my personal information.”
Suppressing a sigh at the broken moment, Bjorn set about gathering up their plates and carrying them to the sink to rinse, then loading them into the dishwasher.
Take heart, he told himself. He’s starting to open up.
By the time he turned back to Dennis, the other man had left the kitchen and was pawing through his own suitcase.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” Dennis informed him, surfacing from the suitcase with a change of clothes in his hands. “And no, you are not invited,” he added before Bjorn could offer.
Bjorn frowned dramatically. “You’re no fun.”
“Not a bit,” Dennis agreed. “See you in ten minutes.” And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom.
Bjorn sighed and leaned back against the counter. He supposed he couldn’t blame Dennis for not wanting a virtual stranger to shower with him, but the mate pull was no joke. Was Dennis not feeling it, or was he just fighting it?
Deciding to distract himself, he crossed the room to where he’d plugged in his phone the previous night. He unplugged the device and started checking his notifications. Facebook post by a friend…new music had dropped on Spotify…texts from two friends…
Wait, a text and a phone call from Escalus? What the fuck? The den alpha rarely communicated with him at all, given that he no longer lived in the den, and when he did it was with short, authority-laden texts. He checked the text first.
Escalus: Check your fucking messages, you prick!
Well, that was uninformative. With a sigh, he opened his voicemail app and played the message.
Figures you can’t be assed to answer your damn phone, Bjorn.
It’s Tuesday morning, 8:30am and apparently you’re sleeping late or some shit, so I’m leaving a message.
You need to come home. Now. Your grandma’s sick.
They’re not sure what’s wrong yet, but it doesn’t look good.
She’s asking for you. Come the fuck home.
Call me back asap and tell me when to expect you.
His grandmother? His sweet, elderly grandmother, who’d always been in perfect health?
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Bjorn had talked to her last week and she’d been fine.
She’s always supported him living his life apart from the den if that was what made him happy, even as his parents had lobbied hard for him to stay.
They had wanted a strong son who got involved in den politics. Gran had just…wanted him to be happy.
He realized he was standing there, clutching his phone and hyperventilating. He focused, trying to steady his breaths, but now he was shaking, too. How could Gran be sick?!
The den was practically on the other side of the country, in South Dakota.
Too far to drive and get there in any sort of timely manner.
He’d have to get a flight, and…no, shit, he couldn’t fly if he couldn’t control his shift.
People were relatively cool with shifters in their midst, but those tiny airplane seats wouldn’t hold a bear his size, even if his seat neighbors didn’t lose their shit at the sight.
Fuck! He slammed the fist not holding his phone down on the end table.
Ok. Ok. So he’d have to drive, after all.
What did he need to do? He’d need to pack up the few things he’d unpacked so far, then gas up the car…
no, wait, first he needed to call Escalus.
Maybe Gran was feeling better and this wasn’t such a dire emergency.
Still shaking, he raised his phone to his face and hit the redial button.
“Yeah?” came Escalus’s always-cranky voice.
“Alpha,” Bjorn managed to get out, though his throat felt like it was mostly closed. “Gran?”
“Ahh. Hello, Bjorn. Nice of you to join the land of the living. Your Gran is not doing well. You need to come home. When can you get here?”
Bjorn gulped and tried to clear his throat. “I…it’s going to take a while. I have to drive.” God, why had this all happened at the worst possible time?
“Drive?” Escalus exclaimed. “I just told you your grandmother might be dying, Bjorn. Get on a fucking plane!”
“I…I can’t. I can’t control my shift. I…uh, I met my mate.”
There was a long moment of silence, then: “And why haven’t you claimed them and regained your shift?”
Bjorn sighed. “It’s kind of a long story. But I can’t get on a plane like this.”
Another silence. “You can’t control your shift…and you think the solution is to drive cross-country? When you could shift at any moment?”
Fuck. Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that. “But I need to get to her,” he said weakly. Maybe he could fly? If he informed the airline ahead of time and bought a first-class ticket so he could have a bigger seat?
Dennis appeared in his peripheral vision, fully dressed but looking…was he concerned? What’s wrong? his mate mouthed, gesturing to the phone.
Bjorn could only shake his head, unable to spare the brain cells to explain. “Alpha,” he said to Escalus. “I need to get to her. How can I get to her? Will they let me fly?” His voice was plaintive, but he couldn’t hide his emotions at this point.
Dennis was studying him with a furrowed brow, then he nodded firmly to himself and held out a hand. “Give me the phone.”
Bjorn stared at him. Blinked. “What?”
“You sound like you need to go somewhere, fast. Give me the phone. I’ll talk to whoever it is while you get your stuff together. We’ll figure out a plan.”
Pure relief. All the breath whooshed out of Bjorn. Dennis would coordinate things. He could focus on his grandmother. He nodded and handed over the phone without further question.
“Hello?” he heard Dennis say as Bjorn started gathering his dirty clothes. “Yes, I’m a friend of Bjorn’s. What’s going on?” A pause. “Oh, shit.”
Bjorn, a pair of dirty underwear in his hands, could only stand there with his head hanging for a long moment, trying to breathe. He could do this. He had to do this.
“No,” Dennis agreed with whatever Escalus had said, “that definitely won’t work.
Even if he fit in the seat, people would lose their shit.
Okay.” Pause. “Will he fit there, even?” Pause.
“Don’t tell me I’m asking stupid fucking questions; I have no idea what the fuck is going on here and I don’t hang out with shifters at home. I’m trying to fucking help.”
Oof. You didn’t talk to Escalus like that. Bjorn braced himself for the sound of shouting from the other end of the phone, but when there was nothing after a moment, he resumed gathering his belongings and stuffing them into his suitcase.
“At least a couple days, I think,” Dennis said. “I can look it up once we hang up. Oh, ok, go ahead while we’re on, then.” Pause. “Yeah, Pennsylvania."
“He drives a tiny little sedan, yeah. But I’ve got a truck. He might fit better. Okay, thank you.” He checked his watch. “Yeah we can probably make it by late Wednesday if we drive hard.”
Bjorn zipped his case and dragged it back toward Dennis. “I can’t get on the highway like this,” he hissed to Dennis, gesturing down his still-nude body.
Dennis raised an eyebrow at him and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Yeah, you’d better throw on some clothes. We’re taking my truck and I told this guy we can be there in two days, so we gotta move.” He directed his attention back to the phone.
Bjorn, at a loss over this entire situation, wordlessly pulled a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of his bag and shrugged into them. Who knew how long they’d last before his next involuntary shift, but he was trying.
“Ok,” Dennis was saying when Bjorn finished pulling his shirt over his head. “That’s good. How far is your…den?...from the highway? Are there, like, dirt roads?” Pause. “Oh, good. Okay, yeah, if someone meets us that’s probably the easiest way, with me driving.”
It would probably be his parents meeting them, after which they would berate him for all manner of things, Bjorn reflected, but at this point he’d tolerate that to get to Gran.