5. Dennis
Dennis
It was hour seven, and he was going to kill his companion.
Beside him, Bjorn was bopping in his seat, singing along to an old Queen song Dennis couldn’t remember the name of.
It involved clapping at intervals along with the singing.
And while Bjorn had a surprisingly pleasant baritone voice, that didn’t help the fact that the man was driving him nuts.
Dennis had been gritting his teeth for the last five songs, trying not to snap at him.
Bjorn bellowed the last of the lyrics, then he sat back in his seat with a sigh. “God, I love that song. Have you heard the Live Aid version?”
Dennis grunted something resembling a negative.
“It’s so good,” Bjorn enthused. “Hey, you want to stop for bathroom and coffee?”
“God, yes,” Dennis said without hesitation. He needed out of this car. He passed his phone to the other man. “Find a rest stop with a gas station. We might as well fill up, too.”
“You got it!” Bjorn tapped at the phone screen for a minute, then set it down. “Waypoint set.”
In three-tenths of a mile, bear right onto exit thirty-seven, said the phone in its mechanical, English-accented voice.
Dennis did as instructed, and soon they were pulling into a sizable rest stop. He eased the car up to a gas pump. “Go do your thing while I pump,” he told Bjorn.
Bjorn nodded and stepped out of the truck. He was tall enough that it was a step instead of a hop, as it would have been for so many people. He didn’t even need the running board. “Want me to get you something in the store?”
Dennis shook his head. “I’m coming in once the tank is full. I’ll get my own stuff.”
“‘Kay.” And with that, Bjorn strode - bounced? - off toward the shop attached to the gas station.
***
Five minutes later, Dennis followed his path into the store, only to almost run into Bjorn coming out. He jumped back before they could collide. “Christ!”
Bjorn just grinned at him, his arms full of…
Dennis wasn’t entirely sure what, but there was a lot of it.
In one hand he clutched a large frozen drink cup, and Dennis was very glad they hadn’t actually run into each other.
He wouldn’t appreciate having to wear that slushie or whatever.
“You good?” Bjorn asked, shifting his burden slightly.
“Yeah. I’ll meet you back at the car.”
“You got it.” Bjorn gave him a cheerful nod and pushed through the door into the outer court.
Dennis sighed, watching him for a few seconds, before he turned back to the store and headed for the coffee counter. He needed a large cup, and maybe a Snickers. Or two. Or five. Maybe some gummy bears, too? Hmm.
***
By the time he made it back to the car, he was clutching his own armful of things he most certainly should not be eating at his age.
He set his coffee cup on top of the truck so he could pop the door open, then paused, somehow both surprised and not surprised to see a large brown bear sitting in the passenger seat, covered in what looked like the remnants of a bag of Cheetos.
Dennis snorted. “You forgot you couldn’t fit a bear paw into the bag, didn’t you? ”
The bear, looking abashed, raised an orange-tinted paw to its face and started licking it with a long tongue.
Dennis reached out and plucked a Cheeto off Bjorn, brushed a piece of fur off it, and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he moaned dramatically, rubbing in that he was stealing the other man’s snack. The bear grumbled. “Hey, did you find us a hotel?”
Bjorn-bear regarded him coolly, then waved a paw at himself as if to say Do you expect me to answer that in this form?
A Cheeto dropped off his chest, bouncing to the truck floor.
Dennis made a mental note to vacuum the mats next time they stopped for gas.
He didn’t want Cheeto dust ground into his carpet.
Dennis scoffed. “Figures. Well, I’ve got a few more good hours in me before I need to stop, I guess. Hopefully you’ll have changed back by then.”
Grumble.
He turned on the ignition and steered the truck back toward the highway.
It was blessedly silent without Bjorn playing DJ, and Dennis savored the quiet.
Bjorn, on the other hand, seemed unsettled, shifting in his seat restlessly.
Finally, Dennis reached over and poked the bear in the shoulder.
“Stop squirming. You’re going to break my seat.
” He glanced over. “Shit, your seatbelt.” Bjorn hadn’t had it on when he shifted, apparently, because it wasn’t on now.
Dennis immediately steered the truck to the shoulder.
Bjorn made an inquiring noise and looked at him as Dennis put the truck in Park and then leaned over.
“The last thing I need is to get in an accident and have a goddamn bear ejected through the windshield,” Dennis grumped.
“That wouldn’t be good for you or the truck.
” He reached across Bjorn and grabbed the seatbelt, drawing it across the bear’s bulky body.
It locked before he got it all of the way to the buckle and Dennis cursed. “Why are you so damn big?”
Bjorn’s noise this time was mournful, and he snuffled at Dennis’ hair.
Dennis tried again to get the seatbelt across his companion with no success.
“Fuck.” He didn’t want to drive with an unbelted passenger.
Not so much because he could get a ticket - any cop with a brain would understand that you couldn’t belt a bear - but because he’d seen enough accidents in his life to not want an unrestrained passenger pinballing around the truck if he had to suddenly hit the brakes or something.
“Now would be a good time to change back to human, just FYI.”
And before Dennis could get another word out, he found himself with his nose in the neck of a naked man. Bjorn’s long hair tickled his nose, and he pulled back so he could sneeze.
“Hey, cool!” Bjorn said. “I have good timing. Maybe I’m regaining control?”
They both knew that wasn’t how it worked, but Dennis grunted in agreement anyway. A man could dream. “Now put on your seatbelt,” he ordered. “And…maybe some pants?”
Bjorn shrugged. “All my spare clothes are in my suitcase,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the bed of the truck. “Got a blanket, maybe? At least I won’t shred that if I shift again.”
Dennis thought about that for a second. Did people keep blankets in their cars?
He certainly didn’t. Finally, he reached behind the seats and pulled out a ragged towel he used to wipe condensation off his windshield on foggy days.
It was only a hand towel and would barely cover Bjorn’s crotch, but it was better than nothing. “Here,” he said, handing it over.
Bjorn regarded the towel doubtfully, but tucked it over his groin. “Sorry about sitting bare-assed. I think there’s still some shreds of my jeans under my crack, if that helps.”
“That…doesn’t help.” Dennis sighed and returned to his own seat. “At least the seat’s leather so I can wipe it down.”
“That’s the spirit!” Bjorn picked up Dennis’s phone as Dennis shifted the truck back into Drive.
“And to answer your question from earlier, I did indeed find us a hotel. It’s just outside Milwaukee.
I’ll put the address in.” He tapped at the screen.
“About two hours from here, it looks like. You good for that?”
Dennis nodded. “I’m fine.” He carefully pulled back into traffic. “Highway driving is easy.”
Bjorn nodded and tucked the phone back into its nook in the console.
Then he reached between his legs to the floorboard and came up with a bag of Twizzlers, which he ripped open without care before stuffing one in his mouth.
“God,” he said through a mouthful of licorice, “all this shifting is taking it out of me. I’d forgotten how tiring rapid-fire shifts are. ”
Dennis had no point of reference for that, so he just grunted.
Bjorn pulled out another piece of Twizzler and held it out to him. “Want one?”
“I don’t think it goes with my coffee,” Dennis declined, picking up his coffee cup in demonstration and taking a sip. Ahh, black gold. The nectar of life. Coffee was necessary for a road trip like this.
“Your loss,” Bjorn mumbled, still chewing through his mouthful. “More for me.” He finally swallowed. “And now, back to the music!”
Oh, god.
***
Dennis sent Bjorn into the hotel to check in while he parked in the frankly overfull lot. He supposed he was glad that Bjorn had made them a reservation, because looking at all the cars, he strongly doubted that there would be a spare room otherwise. Was there a convention here or something?
With a sigh, he eased the truck into a too-small space.
Yes, he was overhanging the ends of the lines a bit.
No, he didn’t care at this point. He climbed out of the truck and walked around to get their suitcases out of the bed, wrestling them down with a grunt.
He extended the pull handles and staggered his way into the lobby with his two enormous suitcases, only to find Bjorn still standing in front of the clerk.
It had taken him a good ten minutes to park, so he was surprised Bjorn wasn’t already done.
As Dennis watched, Bjorn wrung his hands and said something very seriously to the desk clerk, who frowned and tapped away at her keyboard, then shook her head. Curious now, Dennis approached just in time to hear Bjorn say, “But he’ll be upset!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk said, sounding like this was the twentieth time she’d recited these words today alone, “but we are fully booked at this point. I understand that your companion might be uncomfortable, but you did book the single king bed, and I can’t -”
Oh, hell. Only one bed, again? Was he stuck in hell? Dennis strode forward the rest of the way. “We want two queens,” he said brusquely to the clerk, “not a king.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that, but as I was just telling your friend, we only have that room available tonight. All our queen rooms are booked.”
“What about a suite?” he tried.
She shook her head. “All booked. We’re hosting a convention this week.”
“Fuck.” He sighed. All he wanted was to relax into a bed and stretch out the muscles that were tight from hours of driving. Now, instead, he was going to have to share with a bed-hog bear. Again. “Fine,” he ground out. “Just check us in.”
“I can sleep on the floor,” Bjorn offered apologetically. “I don’t mind. It was my mistake to book the wrong room.”
Dennis snorted. While he might allow Bjorn to do that if he’d been able to control his shift and sleep as a well-padded bear, he wasn’t going to make the man bed down on the floor as a human. “We’ll deal,” he grunted.
Bjorn wrung his hands again and started to stammer something else, but Dennis cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Are we good?” he asked the clerk.
She handed him a clipboard. “Please fill in your car’s information here, and we’ll need a credit card for incidentals.”
Before Dennis could reach for his wallet, Bjorn handed over his credit card. “Thank you,” he told the clerk with a gentle smile. “I appreciate your trying to help.”
The clerk’s stern face softened a bit, and she nodded.
“Thanks for saying that. It’s been a rough day.
I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you anything else.
” She cast her eyes to the side, then back at them, and reached under her desk, coming up with a handful of pieces of paper the size of business cards.
She handed them to Bjorn in exchange for his card.
“I can give you these, though,” she said with a wink.
“Drink vouchers for happy hour. We’re only supposed to give out two per guest per day, but if you don’t tell, I won’t either. ”
Bjorn accepted the slips and grinned. “Your secret is safe with us. Thanks.”
The clerk handed over two key cards. “Here you go. You’re in room 614. Elevators are to your left. Breakfast is 7am through 9:30am on the mezzanine.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’d recommend getting there early, before the conference crowd. There’s…a lot of them.”
Dennis and Bjorn both nodded their understanding before stepping back from the desk.
Bjorn took his suitcase from Dennis, who had honestly forgotten he was clutching the handle, and started wheeling it toward where the clerk had said the elevators would be.
“So, sixth floor,” he said with forced cheer. “Should have a good view, at least.”
Dennis grunted and followed. It was going to be another long night.