Page 23 of Bear With Me

Internally sighing, he plodded on four feet back out into the bedroom, where he found Dennis, fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone. “Get dre-” he began, then sighed when he looked up and spotted the bear. “Or not. I guess I’m going to bring you something up from breakfast. And why is the water still running?”

Bjorn regarded him stolidly, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dennis stood and crossed to the bathroom, sticking his head in long enough to turn off the shower and then returning to the bedroom. “Since I’m apparently your waiter this morning, what strikes your fancy for breakfast: eggs? Cereal? Pancakes?” He paused between each word, giving Bjorn a chance to respond.

Bjorn made a happy noise at the thought of pancakes and Dennis smirked. “Pancakes it is. Grunt once for syrup and twice for butter only.”

Grunt.

“Gotcha. I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” Dennis pocketed his phone. “And don’t go back to sleep,” he warned in an ominous tone or voice.

Bjorn would have liked to challenge him with an or what, but…bear vocal cords didn’t do that. So he just made a grumbling noise. Not like he could climb back into bed with soaking wet fur, anyway. He didn’t hate the hotel housekeeping staff that much. So instead, he walked back into the bathroom, seized a towel in his teeth, and carried it back out to his companion, who paused and gave it a quizzical look when Bjorn dropped it at his feet. “Why…” he began, and then sighed as realization hit him. “You need me to dry your goddamn furry ass? Seriously?”

Bjorn grunted.

“Ugh. Why can’t you just…change back.”

He would if he could. He was getting damn sick of having no control over when or where he shifted. His bear felt…unmoored in his head. It was a really uncomfortable feeling for someone who was used to existing in harmony with his animal. Unable to articulate that currently, he just huffed and sat down next to the towel at Dennis’s feet.

Moving reluctantly, Dennis picked up the towel and rubbed it over Bjorn’s head, scrubbing at his ears especially vigorously. “I predict you’re gonna regret asking me to do this.”

Bjorn didn’t think he could regret anything that involved his mate touching him. He rumbled his pleasure at a particularly rough manipulation of his ear. Mmm, that was the stuff. He always felt like his ears itched after he got them wet in bear form.

Five minutes later, Bjorn’s fur was standing on end all over his body, and he thought he might have a friction burn from the terrycloth on his paws, but he was mostly dry. With a huff, he collapsed back down onto the floor and gave Dennis what he hoped was a pleading look. Pancakes? Now?

“Fine,” Dennis grumbled, plucking a wad of fur off his jean-clad thigh. “Five minutes. Be ready to eat when I get back. And,” he added, “if you can manage to change back, pack your shit. I want to be out of here as soon as we’re done eating. We’ve got a good ten- or twelve-hour drive ahead of us.” And with that, he was out the hotel room door, leaving Bjorn to entertain himself. Which was rather difficult when one was a bear and couldn’t use one’s phone.

Huffing to himself, he scratched his ear and settled down to see if he could doze off again before Dennis returned.

***

Luckily, by the time Dennis had returned with two plates of food, Bjorn was back in human form, which meant he could feed himself. They ate in companionable silence, packed up, and checked out of the hotel. They were on the road by nine-thirty, which Dennis informed him meant that they’d be pulling into the den, near a Native American reservation, by around seven-thirty that evening as long as they didn’t make too many stops. Bjorn was hopeful that that meant he could see his Gran before he slept again tonight.

They piled into the car and Bjorn started the music and began sorting through their remaining car snacks from the previous day. “How are we on gas?” he asked as Dennis navigated them out of the hotel parking lot.

“Half-tank,” he replied. “And don’t act like I don’t know you just want to stop at a rest stop for more junk food.”

He said that as if it was something to be ashamed of. “Car snacks are necessary,” Bjorn said evenly, and relaxed back in his seat. “Wake me up when we stop.”

Dennis made a spluttering noise. “You’re going to subject me to this music and then pass out while it plays? Hell no. Either turn it off or stay awake to distract me.”

“Aw, Dennis,” Bjorn teased, “you find me distracting?”

“Fuck you,” was the response to that. Bjorn chuckled. “I just don’t like the noise.”

“Noise?” Bjorn gasped offendedly. “This is Led Zeppelin! We are gettin’ the led out for the morning!”

Dennis snorted and veered onto the highway. “Whatever that is.”

Bjorn settled back in his seat. “You have no culture. Where are you even from?”

“Originally? Ohio,” Dennis deadpanned. “We’re not known for our culture there.”

Well, that much was true. Was Ohio known for anything in particular, come to think of it? Something about election manipulation, maybe. That was just a vague memory, though. “Well, Led Zeppelin are gods of classic rock,” he informed his companion. “'Immigrant Song,' which is what our ears are currently being blessed with, is based on Old Norse mythology. It’s basically a history class in music form. Listen and learn.”

Dennis shot him a sidelong look. “Ooo-kay,” he drawled, sounding like he’d decided not to challenge the crazy man. “I’d still rather you turn it off if you’re going to go to sleep, though.”

Bjorn huffed. “Fine, I’ll stay awake. But that means you have to converse with me.”