Page 17 of Bear With Me

Dennis

“So,” Bjorn said from his position on the bed, “want to go check out the happy hour?”

Dennis, who was slumped in the room’s single armchair, sighed heavily. On one hand, a drink would be nice. On the other hand, ugh, standing up and moving. “I don’t suppose they deliver?” How could he be so tired and sore from just…sitting all day?

Bjorn chuckled. “I’m pretty sure they don’t. Though, I could go down and bring you back up something, if you’d like?”

“Nah.” He didn’t expect the other man to wait on him. “Let me just decompress for five more minutes and then I’ll put my shoes back on.”

That got him a scoff. “Shoes are overrated,” Bjorn said, lifting his large, bare foot into the air. “Let everything air out.”

Dennis couldn’t help but laugh at that. Bjorn’s feet were fucking enormous. They probably needed their own blow-dryer to air out. “What the hell shoe size do you wear, anyway?” he challenged.

Bjorn’s eyebrows went up, and he studied his foot like this was the first time he was seeing it. “Fifteen. Why?”

“Jesus.” Dennis’s own feet were a larger-than-average size eleven. He couldn’t imagine trying to shop for size fifteen shoes. “Where do you even buy boats like that?”

Bjorn lowered his foot and shrugged. “Online, mostly. I have a couple styles that I know fit and I just replace them when they wear out.” He sat up then and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Ok, your five minutes are up. Shoes on and let’s go out drinking.”

“Does it count as ‘out’,” Dennis wondered out loud, “if we’re just going downstairs in the same building?”

“Sure it does. It’s still a bar and it’s ‘out’ of our room.” Bjorn clambered to his feet, overbalanced, and caught himself on the arm of Dennis’s chair, landing with his face inches from Dennis’s. “Oops.”

Dennis sucked in a breath at the sudden movement, then held it when he realized how close they were. He’d avoided getting too close to Bjorn the previous day, except for their enforced snuggling in bed, to avoid tempting Bjorn and to get his not-mates message across. Now that they were a breath apart, though, he was hypnotized by the gold sheen to Bjorn’s brown eyes. Was that a shifter thing? He’d never been close enough to one before to look into their eyes like this. Bjorn's eyes were soft, with crinkles in the corners like he smiled a lot.

Realizing he’d been holding his breath, Dennis breathed out explosively, then winced when he realized he’d just blown full into Bjorn’s face. “Sorry. My breath is probably not great after all the car snacks.”

“Nah.” Moving with exaggerated care, Bjorn straightened up. “Smells like roses, I promise. So.” He bent down to put on his shoes and Dennis did not look at his plump ass. Nope. “Drinkies?”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Drinkies?” he mocked. “Are we sorority chicks now?”

Bjorn grinned as he straightened up. “Like, totally,” he played along in a Valley girl voice.

Trying not to smile, Dennis slipped his feet into his own shoes. “Good to know. Okay, let’s go down.”

They walked in companionable silence to the elevator, which took approximately an age to arrive. “Jesus,” Dennis muttered as they crammed into the car with the about twenty other people already inside. “This place needs more elevators.”

Bjorn, crushed up against Dennis’s back, huffed a laugh. “It’s just because everyone’s trying to get to the bar at the same time,” he pointed out. “I’m sure it won’t be like this later.”

“Oh, no,” said a woman who’d apparently been listening, “it’s been like this every time I’ve taken it, and I’ve been here three days.”

“See?” Dennis demanded, turning to glare at Bjorn like it was his fault. Which he knew it wasn’t. But still.

Bjorn just turned up his hands helplessly. “Sorry, boss. This is the place that had a room available.”

Boss? Where had that come from? Dennis just shook his head. It wasn’t as if he liked being addressed like an authority figure. That would be…weird.

Finally, the elevator disgorged its crowd on the ground floor. The mass of people, moving almost as a unit, surged toward the bar, which was already crowded. Dennis did want that drink, but damn, at what cost? Before he could complain, however, Bjorn had taken his hand and was using his freakishly large body to plow through the crowd. “‘Scuse us,” he announced as he pushed past a slow-moving couple. “Sorry,” he added as he accidentally hip-checked the woman who had spoken in the elevator. “Comin’ through.”

By the time they got to the bar, Bjorn had them well in front of the elevator crowd, and the people already standing at the bar took one look at the shifter and started easing themselves out of the way. Bjorn, for his part, seemed entirely unaware that he was intimidating the others. “Oh, thanks,” he said cheerfully as an alarmed-looking man jumped to the side, allowing Bjorn to belly up to the bar. He brandished two of the drink tickets the desk clerk had given him. “I’ll have an IPA, if you have one. Dennis?”

Dennis, still trying to figure out how Bjorn had cut through the crowd that easily, blinked. “Oh. Uh.” He owned a damn bar and he couldn’t think of what he wanted to drink? He was ridiculous. “Jack and Coke,” he finally said, pulling a near-random drink out of his mental lexicon. Well, it would do.

The bartender nodded and started pouring Bjorn’s beer. Once he’d handed it over and turned to mix Dennis’s drink, Bjorn picked up his glass and took a sip, licking his lips. Those lips were plush and pink, and Dennis kind of wanted to lick them himself.

But he wasn’t going to.

“So,” Bjorn said teasingly as the bartender pushed Dennis’s drink toward him, “you come here often?”