Page 5 of Bear With Me

“No, I know.” Were those the puppy-dog eyes again? Goddammit. “I won’t steal your food. Well, I mean, I’ll need to eat something, and I guess that would be out of your food supply, but I’m not, like, gonna steal your good steak.” He paused, looking hopeful. “Unless you have two?”

Technically, Dennis had more than two, because he’d bought groceries for two weeks and had planned plenty of grilling during that period, but he decided not to share that. “Nope,” he said instead. “Just lots of vegetables.” There, that ought to turn off a bear shifter, he thought.

Inexplicably, Bjorn brightened. “Ooh, do you have broccoli? And maybe some cheese or cheese sauce I could put on top?”

Dennis considered claiming the broccoli for himself as well, but ultimately just sighed and continued putting away groceries. “Yes, there’s broccoli, and there’s some sandwich-sized slices of American cheese in one bag or another.”

Bjorn started rooting through the bags, periodically announcing what he was finding with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old. “Ooh, Pop Tarts! Oh, hey, I love honeycrisp apples! My man, you got honey mustard pretzels? Score!” Dennis just gritted his teeth and continued his work, trying to ignore how disruptive this guy's personality was going to be to his time here. To his life in general, if the bear got his way.

As they emptied the last bag onto the counter - a container of raspberries, two pints of Phish Food ice cream, frozen chopped onion, and a pack of chicken breasts - Bjorn turned to him and smiled. “You have good taste in groceries.”

Dennis scoffed. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“I mean, it’s like having good taste in food. Except one step removed, I guess. I approve of your ingredients as well as your prepared foods.” Bjorn’s smile widened. “We’re food-compatible.”

“We’re nothing-compatible,” Dennis immediately shot back. “I already told you, we’re not doing this.”

Bjorn nodded but didn’t look the slightest bit persuaded. “Yup, I know. We’re just two guys, sharing a cabin. With one bed. Probably overnight.”

“And you’re still naked,” Dennis finished, wiping a hand down his face in exhaustion. “What the fuck is my life?”

“I bet your life is actually pretty awesome,” Bjorn said reassuringly. “I – whoops, hold on, I feel it coming.” And before he could get out another word, an enormous brown bear had appeared in front of Dennis. It immediately dropped to four feet, forcing Dennis back a step, and snuffled at him. If bears could smile, this one was.

“Motherfucker,” Dennis muttered as he noticed a loaf of bread crushed under one front paw. It must have gotten knocked off the counter during Bjorn’s change. “Give me that.” And he started trying to pry the bread out from under an uncooperative paw as big as his head. It was tipped by three-inch-long claws, which flexed when he made contact.

It belatedly occurred to Dennis that his face was within easy chomping range of Bjorn’s teeth and his hand could easily be impaled by those claws. He tensed, preparing to move away, when the bear made a mournful sound and lifted his bread-holding paw. Was that…an apology for squishing his bread? He didn’t actually know how much of Bjorn in his current form was animal instinct and how much was human brainpower. “Can you…hear me?” he ventured.

Bjorn cocked his head to the side and grunted what sounded like an affirmative, then tried to step back and bumped loudly into the kitchen island, rattling the cabinetry. He huffed and shuffled to the side, then tried again to back up. This time, he gained a few feet before flopping down on the floor like an oversized dog.

Dennis stared down at this man…shifter…who was supposedly his mate. What was he supposed to do with an eight-foot, thousand-pound bear in his kitchen? In his cabin? In his bed? Wait, would Bjorn want to sleep as a bear? He wasn’t sure the bed could take that. “You’re in the way,” he said sullenly instead of voicing any of these questions.

Bjorn looked around at the clear kitchen floor around him, then back at Dennis. He snorted.

“Don’t back-talk me,” Dennis snapped. “You’re taking up space, and this cabin is not that big to begin with. Change back to human.”

Bjorn’s head went to the side again, and the muscled body tensed for a second, but nothing happened. Oh, right, that thing about shifting going involuntary after meeting your fated mate. He wondered how long he’d be stuck with a bear. While the bear was gratifyingly quiet compared to human Bjorn, on the other hand he couldn’t debate with the bear which of them got the bed.

Grumbling to himself, Dennis pulled out his phone and checked again to see if the cabin’s owner had answered his ping. Nothing, dammit. This guy was getting a one-star review, between the double-booking and the lack of responsiveness. “Still no reply,” he told Bjorn, who gave a bear-ish shrug. “Ugh. Go...” He waved a hand toward the great room. “Go lay by the fireplace or something.”

Obediently, Bjorn clambered to his feet and crossed to the…was that a bearskin rug in front of the hearth? Oh, shit. The bear studied the bearskin, sniffed it, and huffed out a breath, then collapsed down on it dramatically.

“Drama queen,” Dennis muttered. “It’s probably fake anyway.” He put away the last few grocery items and then sighed. Now what was he supposed to do?

Well, he supposed, whatever he’d have been doing if he was here alone. At least now he didn’t have Bjorn chattering in his ear, so he should take advantage of the silence. He walked to the bed nook and pulled open his backpack, retrieving his Kindle, then debated whether to sit on the bed or the couch. He decided he didn’t really want to draw attention to the bed, so he crossed to the couch and plopped down, tapping the Kindle’s power button and waiting for it to load his latest read, a non-fiction book about experimental archaeology.

He was just getting into the facts it was presenting when he was disturbed by a scratching noise, followed by a groan. He looked up. The bear - and the bearskin - had migrated a foot closer to him, he was pretty sure, and Bjorn was giving him those puppy-dog - bear-cub? - eyes again. “I’m not reading out loud to you,” he said, then felt stupid for assuming that was what was wanted. “I mean…”

The bear climbed slowly and ponderously to his feet and sidled up to the couch, then dropped his muzzle into Dennis’s lap. Dennis was frankly pretty unsure whether he was okay with having that maw so close to his dick, so he gave it a push, but failed to move it. The puppy-dog eyes intensified. Bjorn sat down like a dog, his head still on Dennis’s thighs.

“Fuck. You wouldn’t like this book anyway,” he protested. “It’s non-fiction.”

Bjorn grunted inquiringly.

“It’s about experimental archaeology. People running experiments to determine what people in history wore, how they smelled, what historical foods that no longer exist were like…”

Another grunt, and this one, he would swear sounded interested. Could a grunt sound interested? It was just a grunt.

“Fine. Fine.” And he started reading the fictionalized excerpt in the book about a Bronze Age hunter looking for game. Before long, he’d lost himself in the book and didn’t even realize he was still reciting.