12. Dennis
Dennis
They got through the night with only one episode of Dennis being knocked out of bed, for which he was thankful; the hardwood floor in their room wasn’t kind to his backside.
When his phone’s alarm went off the next morning, he found himself wrapped up in Bjorn’s large body: Bjorn's arms were around his torso, one leg between his, and face buried in the crook of Dennis's neck. Dennis considered panicking about how close that face was to where a claiming bite would go, but he was so warm and comfortable that he couldn’t muster the outrage. Instead, he smiled to himself, slapped the snooze button on his phone, and settled back into Bjorn’s arms. He could get away with resting for another five minutes or so.
His movement must have alerted his bed partner, however, because no sooner had Dennis relaxed again than Bjorn made a snuffling noise and rubbed his nose against Dennis’s neck. “Mmm, morning,” he rumbled, voice hoarse with sleep and face still buried in Dennis’s skin. “You sleep good?”
“Not bad,” Dennis allowed. He wanted to grump a bit about being pushed out of bed, but the truth was he was actually…
getting used to it? It still wasn’t his idea of a good time, but he’d made peace with there being nothing Bjorn could do about it for now.
“Bed’s pretty comfortable.” He squirmed a little, attempting to put space between them, and rapidly re-discovered why they’d woken up tangled together: there was no more bed to be had.
Riiiight, this was only a double. “Even if it’s fucking tiny,” he added, catching himself just before he went off the edge.
Bjorn chuckled roughly and pulled one arm from around Dennis to rub at his own face. “What time is it?” He withdrew his other arm and sat up, and no, Dennis did not feel a sense of loss about that at all. Nor did he admire the bare, hairy chest that now sat inches from his nose. Nope.
Dennis mirrored his movement, sitting up and reaching for his phone to check the time. “Seven. The alpha said to be ready around eight.”
Bjorn nodded. “I’ll get some breakfast going for us and Gran while you shower.” He started to lift the sheet his bottom half was wrapped in, then froze. “Oh.” He glanced at Dennis. “Forgot about my lack of pants.”
Dennis snorted. “Nothing I haven’t seen a dozen times at this point.”
A slight flush washed over Bjorn’s face, but he climbed out of bed and made a beeline for his suitcase, from which he retrieved one of his last pairs of pants.
Looked like today’s shopping trip couldn’t come soon enough, Dennis mused.
“I’m not trying to wave my dick in your face, I swear,” Bjorn said as he pulled the jeans up and zipped them.
Dennis, who was wearing his very comfortable flannel pajama pants, got out of bed more slowly. “I know,” he told his ma- He cut off that thought. Bjorn. Not mate. Hearing the bear continually refer to him as mate was infecting his brain! “You haven’t even helicoptered it or anything.”
Bjorn looked taken aback by the joke, but managed a small, self-conscious laugh as he opened the room’s door. He peeked out into the hallway, presumably confirming that Gran hadn’t made a break for it, then looked at Dennis and nodded. “Enjoy your shower.”
“I plan to,” Dennis answered with a grin, digging into his suitcase for his razor.
He was tempted to rub one out while he showered, in the hopes of negating some of this new sexual energy he was feeling, but he decided that would just be weird to do in an elderly woman’s house.
“Tell your Gran good morning for me if she’s up. ”
“I will.” With that, Bjorn disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen, leaving Dennis alone in the bedroom.
Dennis took the opportunity to slap himself in the forehead.
Why did he suddenly have sex and mates on the brain all the time?
Bjorn was getting to him. Gran’s questions were getting to him.
Hell, the den’s whole atmosphere was getting to him.
He picked up his razor, gritted his teeth, and resolved to lock his shit down.
***
"Good morning, Dennis!" sang Ginevra as he walked into the kitchen half an hour later. She put down the fork she'd been eating with and smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?"
Dennis nodded politely, hoping Bjorn had helped Gran into the kitchen and she hadn’t walked herself there while ill. "Very well, thank you."
She raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Bjorn said you fell out of bed."
"Fell?!" Dennis exclaimed, offended at the implication. "I was pushed! Every time Bjorn shifts, I get shoved to the floor." Was it rude to point that out to the guy's grandmother? Maybe, but still, it was the principle of the thing; he didn't just fall out of bed randomly like a toddler!
"Oh, dear," said Ginevra. "I hadn't thought about how much more space a bear takes up." She sighed, peeking through her lashes at Dennis. "Well, there's not much to be done about that until he can control his shift again."
Was that a hint? He thought it had been a hint.
Dennis felt his natural contrariness rise again.
Had he been having soft feelings about Bjorn before his shower?
Had he really been considering this mates thing just because everyone he encountered seemed to feel it was a foregone conclusion?
Biting back a sharp retort, because it wasn't Gran's fault that he was in this situation, he just shrugged. "Guess not."
Bjorn, who had been watching them converse, chose that moment to cut in. "Dennis? Are scrambled eggs and bacon ok with you?"
"Oh." He looked over at the other man and found him hovering with a frying pan in his hands. "Yes, that's fine." This wasn't Bjorn's fault, either, he reminded himself. He was just as fucked by this situation as Dennis was. He managed a small smile for Bjorn. "Thank you for cooking."
Bjorn shrugged. "We need to eat, and I certainly wasn't going to let Gran or a guest handle it." He scooped a mound of eggs onto the plate in front of Dennis, then added a few strips of bacon. "I can make more if you want it."
Suddenly ravenous at the smell of the food, Dennis just nodded before digging in. The food was shockingly good, or maybe he was just that hungry. "S'good," he managed through a full mouth, nodding again at Bjorn, who relaxed and grinned.
"Oh, good," Bjorn said, drawing a hand across his forehead in a dramatic phew gesture. "Gran, Dennis and I need to run some errands this morning. Can I call someone to come sit with you? The healer, maybe?"
"Oh, pooh," scoffed Gran. "I'll be fine on my own." Then, as if to expose the weakness in her own argument, she fell into a coughing fit.
Bjorn reached over and gently gave her back a pat. "Yeah, no," he said as she straightened up and started trying to catch her breath. "We're not leaving you alone. It's either the healer or someone else from the den, take your pick."
She scowled, and Dennis was glad that cutting look wasn't aimed at him. "I am an adult woman who's been living on her own for more than a decade, young man."
Bjorn didn't quail in the face of her protest. "And now you're an adult woman who's got pneumonia and needs to stay in bed except during meals." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. "Who am I calling?"
Ginevra grumbled, but eventually said, "You can call Fi, I suppose. But tell her she doesn't have to come!"
"Not telling her that," Bjorn sing-songed as he dialed the phone.
"Hi, Healer. I was wondering if you're free to come sit with Gran this morning while Dennis and I run some errands.
" A pause. "Oh, great, thank you. We're leaving at eight, but I don't think you need to be here right that second, if you need a bit more time. "
Across the table from Dennis, Ginevra grumbled some more, too low for him to make out the words, then raised her voice so it carried to the phone: "You don't need to come at all, Fi!"
He could hear the healer's scoff from two seats away, and he suppressed a smirk. Bjorn and the healer exchanged a few more words, and then Bjorn hung up. "She'll be here around eight-fifteen. And you won't complain, right?" Silence. "Right, Gran?"
She huffed, but nodded. Looking relieved, Bjorn put down his phone and picked up his fork to start working on his breakfast. Dennis, who had finished his eggs during the phone call, leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his stomach.
"That was great, Bjorn. Thank you for cooking.
" A self-conscious blush stole across Bjorn's face as he chewed.
Why was he so enchanted by that? Dennis chose not to think too hard about the answer to that. Nothing good could come from it.
***
They regrouped that afternoon, back at Gran's house. Gran and the healer were in a shouting match when they walked in, and Dennis winced and glanced at Bjorn, who seemed remarkably unperturbed by the screaming women. Catching Dennis's look, Bjorn shrugged. "This is how they relate."
And these women were best friends? Yeah, that wasn't weird at all. "Ooookay," he drawled.
Bjorn slammed the front door behind them and announced loudly, "Gran! We're back!"
The arguing abruptly stopped. "Bjorn, honey," Ginevra called sweetly, "come into the bedroom and tell this woman to stop trying to poison me!"
Fiona scoffed. "It's herbal tea, you whiny old woman. It'll make your throat feel better."
Dennis and Bjorn exchanged another look and then walked together into the bedroom, where they found Gran sitting up against her pillows, glaring at her friend while her friend glared back at her.
"So I see today went well," Bjorn said calmly, bending down to kiss his grandmother's forehead. "Drink the tea, Gran."
She let out a loud harrumph, but accepted the mug and took a demonstrative sip. "There, happy?"
"Overjoyed," the healer said dryly, and Bjorn nodded his agreement. "Well," Fiona said, patting her thighs and standing up, "I'll leave you folks alone now. Delightful to see you as always, Ginny."
Ginevra, who was now chugging her tea like she hadn't had any liquids all day and had never claimed it was poison, waved a hand graciously. "Come by tomorrow," she said between sips. "I'll have Bjorn cook something for us to have for lunch."
"Sure, Gran," Bjorn agreed easily. "Maybe some stew in the crockpot, if I get up early enough."
Dennis found himself a little surprised by that.
Yes, Bjorn had cooked him breakfast, but he hadn't extrapolated that into Bjorn can cook in general.
For some reason, he'd assumed that Bjorn, like him, lived largely on takeout.
It felt weirdly domestic to hear the man talk about making lunch for two old women.
He must have made a noise of some kind, because Bjorn glanced at him. "Do you not like stew?"
"Oh, no, I love it," he assured him. "I was just having a moment over the fact that you cook."
Bjorn grinned, and Dennis didn't think he was imagining that it was a little lascivious. "I have many talents. You'll learn."
"And on that note," the healer said dryly, "I'll be going. See you tomorrow, everyone. No," she said as Bjorn started to move, "I can see myself out. Don't die, Ginny. Who would I fight with then?"
"Hate you too," Gran sang as she put her empty teacup down.
By some sort of silent agreement, they all waited until the healer had closed the front door behind her before turning back to their conversation. "So," Gran said then, eyeing Bjorn, "how was your shopping trip?"
He shrugged. "Fine. I got new clothes. Hopefully I won't ruin all of these. But I wanna hear about what Dennis thinks about the cafe business!" They both turned to Dennis and waited expectantly.
Dennis considered the question. "They hardly market the restaurant," he finally said slowly, "and the atmosphere inside the cafe is…not great. My impression is that while they want outsiders' business, they don't really know how to cultivate or welcome it."
"How so?" asked Gran.
"Well, the waitstaff is…kinda surly. Which can be fine," he added, pointing at himself.
"I mean, case in point, me and my pub. But people expect that in a bar or pub a lot more than they expect it in a community cafe decorated in ceramic bears.
Which, by the way…kinda creepy. I felt like they were all watching me. "
Bjorn laughed lightly. "The ceramic bears weren't, but I guarantee you the real bears were. People around here are nosy as hell, and I'm the local weirdo for having moved away. And since you're here with me…" He shrugged. "You're gonna get attention."
Dennis wrinkled his nose, not liking that idea. "Gotta tell you, my friend, this place is not growing on me."
"Right there with you," Bjorn assured him. "Why do you think I moved away? It wasn't just my parents. People expected me to mate off young and probably become a house-husband. Or else an enforcer. Either way, they'd definitely want me to pop out babies if that was a thing, I assure you."
Dennis nearly choked. "Uh…that's not a thing, right?"
"Why?" Bjorn asked, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Worried about whether we need birth control when we boink?"
Dennis, aghast, flapped a censorious hand at Bjorn. "Don't talk about 'boinking' in front of your grandmother!"
Said grandmother, meanwhile, was laughing, hard. "Don't let me stop you boys!" she managed through her wheezy chuckles. "I can even put on my white noise machine that Bjorn bought me if you need some…alone time."
"Grannnnn," Bjorn whined.
Dennis, meanwhile, was still a little preoccupied. "Wait but…it's really not a thing, right? Nobody's gonna get pregnant?" He'd read books that had that plot, and while that was fine for fictional characters, Dennis had no interest in having an ass baby.
Bjorn snickered and waved a hand. "Nobody's gonna get pregnant." He eyed Dennis. "Though, does this mean you've been thinking about, you know?" He made a rude hand gesture with his index finger and circled fingers on the other hand.
"Hmph." Dennis didn't want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that, yes, maybe he'd eyed Bjorn's body a few times, and maybe the man's sunny personality was growing on him. Just a little. Not a lot. He could resist.
"I think that's a 'yes'," Gran said with a smirk. "Just let me know if you need me to leave the house for a while, boys."
Bjorn, apparently having conquered his self-consciousness, slouched against the wall and shot Dennis a sly look. "We'll let you know, Gran."
Dennis could only shake his head. This was ridiculous. "She's not even allowed to leave her bed for two more days!"
"Oh, good point," Bjorn acknowledged. "Guess it'll be the white noise machine, Gran."
Gran cackled wordlessly.
Dennis facepalmed.