4. Bjorn #3
“Ok. Around dinner time then, yeah. Great. We’ll see you then. Is there anything else you need me to tell Bjorn?” Pause. “I’m not fucking saying that. Tell him yourself when we get there. Fine. Good. Bye.” And he stabbed the disconnect button and handed the phone back to a gaping Bjorn. “What?”
“You…” Bjorn stammered. “You don’t cuss at Escalus.”
Dennis rolled his eyes. “I’ll cuss my ass off at him if he cusses at me. Which he did. Now, let me just grab my stuff and we’ll head out.”
Bjorn’s brain stuttered to a halt. Wait, we? He mentally ran back through the conversation he’d just half-listened to and yep, Dennis had been saying “we” the whole time. Was he…coming with Bjorn? “You said ‘we’,” he managed.
“Hm?” Dennis, who had already walked away toward his pile of dirty clothes, glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m driving.”
“What?”
Dennis snorted. “My friend, you can’t fly and you can’t drive while you can’t control your shift. The only way you’re getting anywhere is if I drive you. And your bear isn’t going to fit into the passenger seat of that dinky thing you drive. So we’re taking my truck.”
Bjorn was speechless for a few seconds before he managed to say, “You don’t even like me.”
Shoving clothes into the outer pocket of his suitcase, Dennis shrugged. “I mean, I don’t hate you, either, and according to the guy I talked to, this is an emergency. I’d do this for anyone in that situation.”
Ouch. I don’t hate you. Talk about damning him with faint praise.
“Hurry up,” Dennis said insistently, coming toward him dragging his suitcase. “We need to get going if we’re going to make it in two days.”
“But…”
Dennis grabbed Bjorn’s suitcase by the handle and started pulling it toward the front door. “Protest while we drive. We need to move.”
He was right, of course. About all of it. Bjorn needed to get to Gran, and this was the only - and the fastest - way. Swallowing, Bjorn followed Dennis out the door. “The cabin?” he managed to ask as Dennis locked the door.
“It’ll be fine.” Dennis tossed both suitcases into the bed of his truck, then strapped them down with some bungie cords. “I’ll message the owner later, for all the good that’ll do considering they still haven’t answered me about the double-booking.” He popped open the passenger-side door. “Get in.”
Bjorn eyed the truck. It was a bright red, newer model, scrupulously clean inside with leather seats. His claws would scratch the hell out of them, and his fur would get everywhere. Fuck. He hesitated, looking at Dennis.
“In,” the other man ordered again, waving a hand at him.
“But your car is so nice.”
Dennis rolled his eyes at him. “I’ll get it detailed when we come back. In.”
Sighing, Bjorn climbed into the truck, moving carefully and trying not to mar the leather with the rivets on his jeans. “Look, thank you for this. I do really appreciate it. But I don’t want to put you out, and…”
Before he could finish his apology, Dennis had closed the door behind him and was circling the truck to his own seat. “Told you,” he said gruffly as he climbed in, “I’d do this for anyone. I have two weeks off; you’re not putting me out. Well, except gas money.”
“Oh,” he said immediately, “I’ll pay you back for that. And I’ll buy road snacks. And I can play DJ!” he added, growing more enthusiastic about his ability to contribute. “And navigate.”
“I have Google Maps on my phone,” Dennis said dryly. “But I’ll accept gas money. And snacks. We’re going to be driving hard; coffee and a candy bar will probably be a good idea after a few hours.”
Bjorn considered that. If they were running the GPS off Dennis’s phone, then he couldn’t sync his own phone to the car. He’d have to use Dennis’s to control the music. “What kind of music do you like?”
Dennis glanced at him as he backed the truck into a three-point turn so they could head down the driveway. “Why?”
“I’m the DJ,” he reminded him. “I want to pick stuff you like.”
“Ugh.” Dennis pulled up to the dirt access road to the cabin. “You really don’t need to play music. We can just…sit.”
“Ohhh no, no way,” Bjorn said immediately. “You can’t have a road trip without music. And car karaoke!”
“Oh, dear god,” Dennis muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. He stopped the car and turned to Bjorn. “Just tell me the address of where we’re going.”
“Well, it doesn’t really have an address,” Bjorn said slowly. “The den is in an unincorporated area. So you should use coordinates, not an address.”
“Fine, then.” Was Dennis gritting his teeth? “What are the coordinates?”
Bjorn recited the coordinates he’d memorized as a child. “It’s just outside the reservation.”
Dennis keyed it into his phone. “Twenty-two hours,” he said as the suggested route popped up. “We can do that. Maybe you can book us a hotel halfway there for tonight while I drive.”
“I can do that!” Bjorn whipped out his phone. He was gonna find them the nicest hotel. Dennis deserved it for doing this for him. Maybe a suite. Presidential suite? Were those a thing like they were in movies? He started searching as, beside him, Dennis navigated toward the highway.