After breakfast, Irwin hoped that Dagwood might stick around and keep him company, but it seemed despite his promise of staying near, he had somewhere else to be.

“I’ll be sticking in the area. Never more than half an hour away. Probably less than ten minutes,” the alpha promised.

“I don’t see why you have to go anywhere if you think he’s going to come to me.”

“I’d kind of like to catch onto his approach before you’re put at risk,” Dagwood explained. “It’s basically impossible that anyone besides Kevin left me that note in my destroyed room. I’m sure the police will have other examples of his handwriting and the means by which to compare the two, but I’d say my gut is about as accurate. I’m not as much at risk as you are, but he sure as hell has it out for me. I want to catch him before he gets to you, and I don’t want you to be in the way if he comes after me.”

“Be in the way?”

“You’re like a gigantic walking target,” Dagwood said, albeit gently. He looked as if he was about to apologize for being so blunt, but really, Irwin appreciated it. Even though he was an adult, older adults tended to still treat him like a child. Being spoken to in such a frank manner was refreshing.

“This walking target sure put you through your paces last night, though.”

Dagwood grinned. That was another thing Irwin had come to like about him. The older man wasn’t shy at all even when it came to subjects that others shied away from, same as him.“How are you feeling today, anyway? Sore?”

“Yeah. Pretty sore. Is it always like that?”

“More or less. Maybe it’s best that you stay inside today. Wouldn’t want you walking around town all bow-legged, announcing to the whole world that you had sex for the first time.”

Nothing in the world could have made Irwin happy about the situation he was in, but that at least lightened his mood. Dagwood always knew what to say.

“Maybe I’ll stop by for lunch or something. Take you somewhere nice. Would that be okay?”

It was more than okay. Irwin’s heart jumped in his chest as he realized what he was really being offered. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“You can say no.”

“Yes.”

Neither of them wanted to question where this might lead or what would happen when all of this had blown over. It was best not to question such things. The answers didn’t seem favorable.

They kissed at the door like young lovers, and then Dagwood headed off down the hallway. Irwin was about to shut the door and go back to the box of doughnuts when Dagwood suddenly snapped his fingers and turned back.

“Forget something? Because the doughnuts are staying with me.”

Dagwood laughed. “You’re welcome to the doughnuts. I’m pretty sure they won’t survive the hour. But, uh, it just occurred to me that you don’t have my number to get ahold of me.”

“Oh. Yeah, um. That’s kind of important.” Irwin laughed, too. It seemed as if they were going about everything backwards, having sex before they even exchanged numbers. Then again, this wasn’t like any relationship he had ever heard of.

Was this even a relationship, in the more intimate sense of the word? Another question with an answer that was probably going to be dissatisfactory.

Dagwood pulled out his phone and looked at him expectantly. Irwin led him back inside, where his cruddy old flip phone was plugged permanently into the wall. It no longer held a charge for any length of time.

They exchanged numbers, confirmed them, and parted ways once more. As before, they kissed, because it just felt right.

Lunch didn’t happen. Irwin waited by his phone, restlessly eating doughnuts and trying to focus on a book. The words swam across the page, and he didn’t remember half of what he was reading, though his eyes kept scanning and his fingers kept flipping pages.

Lunchtime passed, and Irwin finished the last of the pastries. Dinner was a boring affair of instant noodles, given a moderate amount of nutrition with the addition of a handful of frozen vegetables. He watched TV until midnight, though he didn’t really much care for anything that was on. Then, he went to bed.

He woke at exactly the same time as yesterday, feeling much less sore yet somehow even less willing to face the day ahead of him. As he got out of bed, he realized that he was worried about Dagwood. Why hadn’t he called? What had come up that was so important they couldn’t meet up with each other? Something bad, or something normal?

As he was just about to head to the fridge to figure out what breakfast for the day was going to be, his phone rang. To be more exact, it buzzed, a tinny, shrill sound.

He sprang for it, heart in his throat. He wanted to believe that his impatience was a result of how annoying the sound was, but that would be like lying to himself. He was impatient because he desperately wanted the person calling to be Dagwood.

Grabbing up the phone, he didn’t bother to look at the number to see who it was. “Hello?” he said.

“Hey, Irwin!” Of course it was Dagwood. Really, it couldn’t have been anyone else because there was no one else who might want to speak to him. “I’m sorry about leaving you in the dark yesterday. Something came up, and I had to take care of it.”

Irwin closed his eyes. “I forgive you, but it’s going to cost you.”

“I’ll pay whatever price that is,” Dagwood said. He sounded as if he was smiling into the phone. “I’ll tell you all about it, but I’d rather do that in person. I can be there in about twenty minutes. If you want to spend some time with me, that is.”

Irwin nodded, then realized that the other man couldn’t see it. “I’d like that. I think I’ve already got cabin fever.”

They said goodbye quickly after that. Neither of them wanted to be the one to say out loud that there was a whole lot more cabin fever in his future.

Exactly twenty minutes later, long enough for Irwin to shower and style his hair, Dagwood arrived. He stood there in the doorway, looking slightly hesitant.

Irwin watched him and frowned, not really understanding this behavior. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry that I ditched you yesterday. I really am. Didn’t mean to. It wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, and I should have found a way around it. At the very least, I should have called you. Let you know. So you didn’t sit around here waiting for me.”

Though Irwin wasn’t mad and hadn’t been mad, he sure as hell wouldn’t have been angry in the face of such genuine sorrow. Dagwood looked like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, you spent ten years waiting on me. I guess it was my turn.”

His joke fell flat, and both of them pretended to forget that anything was said. An air of awkwardness descended between them. Regret filled Irwin’s chest at the sensation, making the back of his throat taste bitter, like bile. Even during their first few encounters, nothing had felt quite as wrong as this.

Maybe I shouldn’t joke about that.

Just like that, Irwin knew he’d been insensitive. Dagwood was a man who took things to heart, sensitive and kind despite his inner strength; because of that, Irwin should have just reassured him that he was forgiven to allow them to move on. Instead, he’d gone and made a joke out of those sincere emotions.

Problem was, he just wasn’t used to this kind of person. Most of his interactions with people in the past had been shallow, full of jokes made in bad taste and general bullshit nonsense or strictly rehearsed. Personal conversations were at a minimum, and he usually did everything he could to avoid those, anyway. Having no experience with such things, he didn’t know how to continue them or get them started.

Maybe it was time that he learned, for Dagwood. And for himself.

They walked together in silence out to the parking lot. Once there, the only thing they said to each other was to decide where they were going to eat, and that didn’t take long because Irwin already had a place in mind.

“Denny’s,” he said.

Dagwood nodded, and they drove off.

Irwin looked out the window at all the early pedestrians, people heading off to wherever they were meant to be. He wondered how many of them were as full of doubts as he was right now.

They arrived at the restaurant quickly enough. The parking lot there was pretty desolate. Irwin liked that about the restaurant. No matter where it was, or what time it was, the place was always easy to tolerate. No loud conversation, low prices, and a lot of food for what you paid. Plus, Denny’s was self-aware. The employees and the patrons were aware of how trashy it was. They didn’t try to defend themselves. They went there because it was cheap, because you could have any sort of conversation in there and not a single person would judge you.

They were taken back to a booth in the corner, near the kitchen. The soft clattering of dishes and the constant sizzle of frying foods provided soft background noise, blocking out the radio and the conversations of the other diners. They were essentially alone.

They both ordered coffee and the waitress wandered off to give them time to look at the menu. Dagwood studied his with intense interest, though the set of his eyes made it clear he was inspecting a weird stain and not the items on the menu.

Irwin watched him and sighed.

Dagwood looked up. “Don’t see anything you like?” he asked. He wore his hair pulled back away from his face, gathered at the nape of his neck in a loose bunch, but some of the strands had escaped and dangled in his face.

Reaching out, Irwin pushed those dark hairs away. At least, he tried. Dagwood intercepted him with a hand on his wrist, not holding on but simply blocking him. “Don’t,” he said.

Irwin pulled his hand back. “Sorry.” He wasn’t very perturbed by this sudden aloof treatment. Some people had weird quirks, he knew that more than anyone, and if Dagwood didn’t want him to touch his hair, Irwin wouldn’t touch his hair.

Then, the other man sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It isn’t about the hair.”

Is that just a good guess or did he pick up that I was thinking about it?

That second option was more than a bit frightening, mainly because picking up on each other’s thoughts was a thing usually only mates could do, after having bonded and declared themselves to be one.

Leaning forward, he looked deep into Dagwood’s eyes and reached out with his mind…and felt nothing in return. A little dissatisfied, Irwin leaned back. Maybe it had just been a lucky guess after all, though he realized now that he had really wanted it to be something else.

“Then what’s wrong?” Irwin asked. He tilted his head, staring at Dagwood. “If it was what I said before, I’m sorry. I won’t joke like that again. Cross my heart.”

“Thank you,” Dagwood said, relief flashing across his face. Then, he sighed. “I should tell you what I was busy with yesterday.”

“Okay?” Irwin shook his head and tried again. “Okay, sure. Go ahead.” They knew each other too well by now for that sort of dismissive tone.

At that moment, they were interrupted by their waitress, who came to take their orders. Afterwards, when she had gone away again, Irwin realized he couldn’t remember what he’d asked for. Oh, well. Surprises were nice, when they involved food.

Dagwood reached for his cup of coffee and stirred it restlessly, his spoon occasionally clicking against the inside of the mug. The small, staccato sound blended perfectly with the background cacophony. “I was talking to the cops most of the day.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s not fun,” Irwin said, sympathetically.

“Well, I guess that’s not necessarily true. I was waiting to talk to the cops most of the day.” Dagwood kept stirring. “I didn’t want to leave though, because I didn’t want to ruin my chances of actually getting somewhere, because I know they were trying to haze me out. The whole thing would have just started all over again if I left and came back.”

Irwin’s hand wandered towards his own cup of coffee. Dagwood didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him, not even when he started stirring at the exact same speed. He was too distracted, and Irwin didn’t blame him.

“Why were you even at the station?” he asked.

“The guy out in the front of your building knew who I was. I’d guess the whole force knows who I am. Probably got pictures of me in their wallets.” He let out a humorless laugh, still stirring. “But he called the station and let them know that I was bothering you. When I was driving away, a cruiser pulled up behind me and pulled me over. Didn’t check my license, my registration, nothing. All the lady did was tell me I needed to go to the station, and she was going to be my escort. Do you remember Officer Janis?”

Irwin nodded. Experimentally, he stirred his coffee faster; Dagwood unconsciously copied his movements. Faint amusement blossomed inside him. “What about her?”

“Apparently she’s the lead investigative officer in this case, in the city, and she’s got it out for me. She hates my guts. Hates bounty hunters like crazy. She basically had me brought in and made me sit in that waiting room for hours.”

“Why? And why did you just…do it?”

“She wanted to have a chat with me, but she also didn’t just want to do it and then set me loose upon the world again. So, she kept sending out updates about how this or that had come up, she was sorry but it was going to be another little bit, and could I just wait? They wanted me to give up. They wanted to cow me. But there is nothing I’m better at than waiting. So, I waited. And eventually she ran out of excuses. Finally, she led me back to her office.”

“And what did she say?”

“She told me to stay away from you. That my involvement would do nothing but impede the investigation and cause trouble for you. She also said a lot of other things I’m not going to repeat to you, because I just find them very distasteful.”

It was hard for Irwin to reconcile this image of Janis with the kind woman who interrogated him after the shooting, but all he could do was accept it. Dagwood wouldn’t lie about such a thing.

“And after she was done…we could have still had dinner or something. Gone to a movie. But everything I thought of just seemed too damn…invasive. In the face of everything that’s going on, I’ve got no right to ask you to do anything. We aren’t dating. I’m just some creepy old man who saw you and started drooling.”

The look of self-pity on Dagwood’s face was more than Irwin could bear. He pushed his coffee away. Dagwood did the same, and then seemed surprised that he’d been doing it all along. The power of suggestion was pretty damn strong sometimes; he had taken what Officer Janis said to heart, despite the fact that it only caused him pain.

“Look,” Irwin said sharply.

Their food arrived at the exact same time, and he swallowed back his reprimands just long enough to smile and nod at the waitress when she asked if everything looked okay. In all honesty, he could have been looking at a heaping platter of urinal cakes and he would say it was fine. There were more important things occupying his focus right now.

“Look,” he said again, when she had gone. “I’ve never really done what anyone has ever told me to do, especially when they say it’ll be good for me. They don’t know if it will be or not. It’s not fair for them to assume that they know something about me that I don’t. So, fuck Janis. I’m going to keep seeing you. As much as you’d be willing to see me, anyway.”

Dagwood didn’t look up yet, though some of the tension had gone from his posture. He seemed hopeful, yet tentative still.

“And you’re not old. I’ll even stop joking about that, if you want. But…you like, don’t have to feel like you’re a creep. Don’t a lot of women like younger guys? Why is it different just because you’re a man?”

“Society.”

“Well, fuck them all,” Irwin snapped. “Fuck society. They don’t know us. I like you. And it’s not just because you buy me food and pay attention to me. It’s because you want to do those things for me. No one else has ever wanted to. And you’re just so different from nearly everyone else I’ve ever met before. Now that you’re here, I kind of don’t want you to go.”

Now Dagwood was looking at him, his eyes bright and his posture straighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. No, from his very soul. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah, I do. Besides…”

He bit his lip, stopping himself from saying anymore. They were having a moment here. The last thing he needed to say was that he had nothing else going for him. That was something the old Irwin would say, the Irwin who was jaded to society, who shot the shit, and destroyed things for fun. This Irwin, the Irwin he could be with Dagwood and no one else, was learning to be more kind than that.

In any case, his near-lapse went unnoticed. Dagwood smiled at him, and the light shining from his soul made him seem a decade younger. Looking at him, Irwin realized he could see past the laugh-line wrinkles, past the faint signs of age, to the younger man he had been when he first saw the well. A little more bold, perhaps. A little brasher, a little less jaded against the world, a little more enthusiastic about his job and life.

Suddenly he was glad that they had met when they did, that they were who they were now instead of who they had been. Their differences had brought them together, two men going against the flow of society. Maybe they weren’t that different after all.

Dagwood reached over but instead of taking Irwin’s hand, he grabbed a napkin and shoved it against one of the plates between them. Pancakes overlapped the edges of the plate, and a liberal amount of melting butter had started dripping onto the table.

It was a unanimous decision to start eating, though neither of them made the suggestion out loud. It just seemed natural to do so.

To Irwin, everything tasted much better than it should have.

When they were done and the bill had been paid, they headed out to the car again and pile inside. Irwin pulled up his shirt as Dagwood peeled out of the parking lot, softly rubbing the small round bulge there which had developed since his meal. “Look at my food baby,” he said.

Dagwood glanced over and laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful parent. Just don’t expect me to pay child support.”

“But you’re the one who did this to me.”

“No. You cheated on me with Denny’s. Get them to support you.”

They laughed again but the silence afterwards was a little more awkward than it was companionable, given what the subject matter had been. As an omega wolf, Irwin would really be the one who was impregnated, who would give birth to a child, if things ever turned out in such a manner. He doubted that they would, but it seemed a bit odd to be joking about such things with an alpha, especially when the future was uncertain.

If he had asked himself the question of whether or not he would want to date Dagwood, if given the chance for a steady relationship, he wouldn’t have known the answer. Everything was just too unclear right now. He didn’t have a job, and Dagwood’s job took him all over the place. They might never see each other again; compromise seemed just as impossible, since it would be unfair for either of them to give up their future for the other.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he did like Dagwood. In all sorts of ways.

Though he suspected that they might head back to his apartment immediately after eating, he was both surprised and happy to discover that Dagwood seemed to be headed elsewhere.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Dagwood turned to grin at him. “We’re going to make that cop following us really earn his pay.”

Twisting around, Irwin tried to see which car behind them might be the unmarked police vehicle, but he had no luck. Whoever was driving the car was apparently in plainclothes, rendering himself nearly invisible amongst the civilians.

“It’s the red one. Two back, right lane. Watch. His lane ends so he’s going to switch over to the left.”

Irwin unbuckled his seatbelt to get a better look, since it was digging into his chest. A frown sent his way by Dagwood nearly had him reconsidering, but he trusted the other wolf not to get them in a wreck. The idea seemed almost ludicrous. A careful, calculating man like Dagwood getting into a wreck? Inconceivable.

He located the car behind them that Dagwood had pointed out, though there was really nothing special about it. “How’d you know that was the cop watching me?”

“They were parked outside your apartment.”

“But there are a lot of cars in the parking lot. How did you know it was him?”

“I’m very wise,” Dagwood said, clearly trying to sound mysterious. Then, he just shrugged. “He was also talking very loudly on his cell phone, explaining to whoever was on the other line that he’d rather be doing anything else than sitting out there on babysitting duty.”

Irwin snorted. “I’d rather he did something else, too.”

“Maybe all three of us can petition against Janis.”

As the right lane ended, the unmarked police car performed a maneuver exactly like Dagwood had described. It could have been just a lucky guess, but by this point, he was beginning to realize that all of Dagwood’s guesswork was always based on facts and observation.

“Okay, so why isn’t he right behind you if it’s a cop?”

Dagwood flipped on his turn signal and joined the left turning lane at the next light. “Because he doesn’t want to make it look like he’s following us. If you’re tracking someone, you never get right up behind them. It looks suspicious, and it’s bad news if someone else is looking for your mark. All they have to do then is follow the guy who’s obviously being followed.”

As soon as they finished the turn, the cop once again shifted to a different lane.

Irwin shook his head a little. “So, how are you going to shake him?”

“I didn’t say I was going to shake him.”

“But you’re going to try?”

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded eagerly. “Hell, yeah. Let’s do it!”

If this was a chance to really get a glimpse at some of the things Dagwood knew how to do, Irwin was jumping on it.

“Good. It shouldn’t be too hard. Portsmouth is a nice place. I bet they don’t get many chases.”

“So, you’re going to road rage.” That was disappointing. If Irwin wanted to see some road rage, he could go out there and cause it himself. He didn’t need someone else to do it for him.

“No. I’m going to make it all look perfectly intentional. Because that’s the key in this situation, isn’t it? We don’t want it to look like anything. We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.”

This sounds a lot like stealing.

Dagwood moved over into the lane farthest right as soon as there was more room. The cop continued on, occasionally switching from the left lane to the middle so that he wouldn’t be forced into a turn.

Suddenly, Dagwood stomped on the brakes. Irwin squeaked and flung out his hands against the dashboard, tossed forward because he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. The effect on the road was instantaneous. Other cars behind Dagwood all put on their brakes. Some swerved slightly towards the center lane, which meant that the cars there had to stop as well. Now there was a nearly-impenetrable wall of vehicles between them and the cop car.

Dagwood turned right at a leisurely pace, and then he went through a series of quick twists and turns so that they were out of sight. By the time he started driving straight again, there was no way in hell that they could have been followed, no way for the cop to determine where they had gone.

“Just that simple,” Dagwood laughed. “You ever see those huge traffic jams on the highway, it’s probably because someone stomped on the brakes. And then it just carries on back like a wave.”

Irwin grinned. He felt light and fluttery on the inside. “Cool!” The simplicity of the maneuver was the most astonishing because it fit right in with what he knew to be true. Distractions were great and all, but the best way to get something past a clerk or security guard was to be simple, calm, casual. To be there, present, yet not, to blend in with the surroundings without making it so obvious that’s what you were doing.

“Now what do we do with our newfound freedom?” Irwin mused.

“I was thinking I’d like to go down by the Elizabeth River.”

It took Irwin a moment to figure out what that was. Only outsiders called the river by its actual name; to locals, it was just the river, or the water. He immediately felt foolish for not having realized what Dagwood was talking about sooner, but the other man didn’t bring attention to his hesitation. “You mean you haven’t yet?”

“Nah. I usually don’t do the whole tourist thing when I’m in a city for work. I’m kind of a drag at parties. Ask me what Vegas was like, and all I can tell you is that their sewers are surprisingly well-lit.”

Irwin laughed. “That’s actually the kind of small talk I’d prefer, you know?”

Dagwood smiled, flicking a glance over at him. “I figured.”

“But don’t you ever just stick around somewhere a few days after the job is over? To enjoy yourself? You save lives all the time so don’t you deserve it?”

“I don’t always save lives,” Dagwood said. “This case is kind of an oddball for me. And sometimes I stick around, if it’s a nice place with a lot to do. But otherwise, I used to just feel the urge to get moving again as soon as possible.”

“Used to? What about now?”

No answer.

They arrived at Portsmouth City Park, though that was a little like saying they had landed on the moon. There was a lot of moon, and there was a hell of a lot of park. The park itself was long and thin, following the shore of the river for quite a ways. Aside from the usual fields and picnic areas, there were also a few long gardens and accompanying trails and running paths.

Dagwood parked and climbed out. Irwin did the same, but he didn’t immediately join the other man. Instead, he stood there and watched as Dagwood stretched. The bulges of his muscles pushed against the seams in his shirt, making it seem as if he was in danger of bursting out of his clothes. The sun caught in his dark hair, revealing hidden natural highlights of russet and tawny brown.

He looked happy.

Irwin felt that warm twisting in his stomach again, that strange happiness that he didn’t dare name.

Turning back, Dagwood looked at him. “What are you waiting for?” he said teasingly. “Christmas?”

“Oh, sure,” Irwin said sarcastically. “Yeah, that’s my favorite holiday.”

“It isn’t?”

“I like Easter and Halloween better.”

“Because of the candy, right?”

“You got it!”

Dagwood shook his head. “All that sugar is going to catch up to you when you hit about 30. You’ll get there and you’ll think I’m wrong, and then one day you’ll feel sick after eating something too sweet and you’ll know I was right.”

“I always eat so much candy that I feel sick. That’s just a regular day for me.”

“You’re impossible.” Dagwood held out his hand. He had three scars on that hand, though they wouldn’t have been noticeable if not for the amount of sunlight washing over their smooth, shiny surfaces. There was a round one at the very base of his thumb, and two more slightly further along the back of his hand, nearly parallel.

As Irwin was committing that hand to memory, Dagwood suddenly started to draw back. “I didn’t mean to impose,” he said. He sounded a little hurt and that was understandable. They’d had sex. They’d exchanged phone numbers. They’d kissed. They’d shared meals and joked around together. What was a little time holding hands going to do, that hadn’t already been done?

Reaching out, Irwin grabbed Dagwood’s fingers with his own. “Hold on,” he said. “I was just looking at your scars. Geez, Dogwood.”

“Oh.” Dagwood looked embarrassed. “Didn’t you see a lot more scars when we were having sex? Cooler scars?”

The word “cool” seemed decidedly uncool in Dagwood’s mouth, like he’d just said “radical” or “gag me with a spoon” or some other cringe-worthy 80’s phrase. For some reason, that was why Irwin liked it so much. He’d found kin here in cringeland.

“Are you saying these scars are uncool? How’d you get them?”

A woman jogging past gave them an odd look. Dagwood blushed and scowled down at his shoes before sighing.

Irwin crossed his arms. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”

All around them, people were enjoying themselves. Joggers glided by on strides that seemed unreal. Boats skimmed across the surface of the river, which was torn into choppy waves by wind that a person couldn’t feel while on land. Children and their parents played little games on the grass, chasing balls or frisbees or each other. Since it was so early, and a weekday, there weren’t nearly as many people as there could have been. Irwin liked that. If they found the right spot, it would be just like they were all alone.

Of course, they weren’t going anywhere until Dagwood spilled.

Finally, Dagwood sighed. “Okay. Look.” He held out both hands now. Irwin noticed, much to his amusement, that both hands had circular scars on the thumb in almost exactly the same spot. “Infected mosquito bites.”

Irwin lifted his head to stare at him. “Excuse me? You survived a poisonous viper bite with no big deal but bugs are your weakness?”

“I was a lot younger and kept picking at the scabs,” Dagwood admitted. He touched one of the parallel scars on his hand. “This one is from where I got hit by a razor blade when some jerk attacked me. That was shortly after I started hunting.”

“A straight razor? And it only did that?”

“No. This idiot had pried open a disposable razor and took one of the blades out because he thought it was the same thing.”

“And the other scar?”

“Burned the back of my hand on the inside of a 400° oven.”

“What the hell were you cooking?”

“Baked apples.”

“And was it worth it?”

“Not really. You can shove an apple full of sugar but in the end, it’s still just an apple. Might as well just have a piece of pie, instead of pretending you’re healthy.”

Irwin took Dagwood’s hand again, curling their fingers together. “Might as well not even bother trying to pretend. What’s the use in lying to yourself, Dogwood? Just go out there and eat the entire fucking pie. What are you afraid of?”

“Clogged arteries.” Dagwood looked down at their entwined fingers, his face filled with the soft wonder of a child who has just been to the zoo for the first time. It was as if his world had suddenly gotten much bigger. “Like I said, just you wait. Another ten years or so and bam, you’ll get it.”

“Well, I won’t come crying to you when it happens. You don’t sound very sympathetic.”

“Oh, I’ll be sympathetic, but I’ll also be glad. We’ll be able to complain together.”

They headed off down the sidewalk together, their arms swinging slightly between them. Their hips and shoulders brushed occasionally, giving Irwin little tingles whenever it happened. If anyone was looking at them, if anyone was judging their decision in life, he was blind to it. He was blind to the rest of the world as well, not seeing the grand butterfly garden they passed or the way sunlight rippled out on the surface of the water. He had eyes only for Dagwood, because in that moment Dagwood was his world.

“Let’s go up by the water,” he said.

They headed across the grass, pausing once to toss an errant ball back to the child it belonged to. The woman trailing along behind the child didn’t exactly look pleased to see two men interacting with her kid, especially when one was just a bit odd-looking and the other seemed strong as a whip, but she only thanked them and moved off again.

Dagwood paused to watch the child as it stumbled along on stubby little legs, round stomach bouncing beneath a loose t-shirt. Irwin tugged impatiently on his hand. “You’re only going to make her think that you really are creepy. And what are you looking at, anyway?”

“It’s just a cute kid.”

They kept walking off across the grass, which had been freshly trimmed only a day or two before judging by the clumps everywhere. The ground beneath their feet slanted slightly as they reached the apex of a very gentle hill, rolling down towards the river. There were less people the further they went, since the river could be unpredictable at times. No mother wanted to risk losing her child to the waves.

“You’re not a fan of kids?” Dagwood asked.

Irwin just shrugged. “I guess, maybe not. A lot of them just seem really unbehaved. Is that a word?”

“Sure, it is now.” The grass was strewn now with soft dirt and sand the closer they grew to the shore.

“I’ve just seen a lot of kids working at a movie theater, and if they aren’t running around screaming, they just look gross and unhappy. And really, don’t get me started on teenagers. They’re some of the worst.”

“I don’t think you’ve gotten a very fair view of the world, looking at it from the opposite side of the counter. And all those kids are just excited, you know?”

Irwin shrugged. “Sure. But some manners would be nice.”

“I won’t argue with you on that. You ever think about having kids?” Dagwood paused, then let go of Irwin’s hand as they came right to the edge of the water. “Sorry, never mind. I forgot that you didn’t used to think about stuff like this.”

Irwin forced a smile, though it hung crookedly from the side of his mouth, and he knew it didn’t look genuine. He didn’t say what was on his mind, censoring himself. He wanted to tell Dagwood that just because he had discovered he liked having sex with one man in particular, it hadn’t changed his entire outlook on life. He hadn’t suddenly developed the urge to go out and start a family, or to declare himself as someone’s mate. He liked sex with Dagwood. That was all.

Wasn’t it?

He sure as hell wanted to think so. It seemed like a damn shame for a person to live their life, only to change entirely just because some sort of animal instinct demanded it. After all, shifters were more than just animals. They were the best of both worlds.

So, instead of voicing what was on his mind, for fear that it would hurt Dagwood’s feelings again, Irwin just nodded and murmured something indistinct.

Sighing, Dagwood looked out across the river. “This is why I don’t do the tourist thing.”

“Not very impressive, huh?”

He didn’t really have feelings one way or the other about the river. Portsmouth was only one stop along its winding course, and it wasn’t even the most important stop. In contrast, the river was incredibly important to Portsmouth. The river flowed through it, offering jobs and tourism to boost the economy. In the past, the river provided transportation and food. Without it, Portsmouth wouldn’t even exist.

But despite that importance, it didn’t hold any sort of special significance in his life. He wasn’t affected by it. Sure, it was pretty. Sometimes, when the light hit it just right. Other times, it was a dull, brown, probably-polluted mess strewn with detritus and trash. It was a landmark. And that was it. So, he thought he could understand Dagwood’s disillusioned lack of interest.

“No. It’s beautiful.” Dagwood smiled. He dropped down to sit in the grass, folding his legs peacefully. His posture was fantastic, Irwin noticed.

Irwin sat too, though he went a little slower because of the residual soreness in his ass. “I don’t get it,” he said. He looked out across the shimmering ripples, watching as a motorboat passed around a recreational sloop at a polite distance, so as not to disturb the peaceful vessel with its chaotic wake.

“I love how the city wraps around the river. I love how it’s part of your lives here. I wanted to see it myself because of that, and now that I have…Haven’t you ever seen somewhere beautiful and never wanted to go back home?”

“To be honest, no.” Irwin plucked up a shorn blade of grass and started to wrap it around his finger. “The only other state I’ve been to is Colorado and that was to visit family with my parents every year around Christmas. Kind of makes you hate Christmas, to be honest. I’m glad when I moved out and all that stopped.”

“If you ever get the chance, you should go somewhere. Really see how beautiful the world can be. But that’s always been my problem. If I see a pretty place, I get the urge to stay.”

“That seems kind of counterintuitive, if you always like to move around.”

“Right. It’s quite the internal warfare.” Dagwood snorted, then reached over and plucked the grass from Irwin’s fingers, scattering it into the river. “I’m glad I get to have struggles like that, though. It means I don’t have anything else too pressing to worry about.”

Irwin rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to start talking about privilege, I’m going to walk away.”

This earned him another snort. “Noted.”

“You really think the river is so beautiful that it makes you want to stay?”

Dagwood murmured, “I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things during my time here that make me want to stay.”

Irwin blushed and looked away. When he thought it was safe, that he had gotten the sudden flush of color under control, he looked back to find Dagwood smiling at him with a lovestruck expression. That made him blush all over again, and he was about to turn away once more when a hand wrapped gently around his chin. Their lips touched, settling together firmly and yet tenderly.

When they pulled back, they realized they had an audience. The same child from before had wandered over again, chasing the same ball which had escaped from it before. Behind the child, the mother was watching with a disapproving look on her face. Whether she didn’t like any public displays of affection around her kid, or if she was against gay men in particular, Irwin didn’t want to guess. He stared at her with the same focus as she was regarding them, not backing away or giving in.

Dagwood stood up and reached down to take Irwin’s hand in his. “Let’s walk down the bank. I want to see what’s in that stand of trees over there.”

Though he was reluctant to give up on this undeserved staring contest, Irwin let himself be pulled to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder one last time at the young mother, but she was already guiding her child back up the little hill, scolding him for going so close to the water without her.

Maybe she wasn’t even really looking at us. Kind of hard to be nice to the weird couple when you’re worried about your kid.

Feeling better, Irwin picked up his pace and followed Dagwood toward the trees. Almost as soon as they were within throwing distance, the powerful scent of many wolves reached their noses.

“Not your pack, is it?”

Irwin shook his head. “No. This is the meeting place for another pack. I used to be friends with one of them.”

“Used to?”

“I guess we’d still be friends if I ever saw him. He’s married now. Has a kid. Actually, I was the one who helped get his mate to the hospital when he went into labor.” Irwin shuddered. “God, that was awful. So stressful. I was so worried that we weren’t going to get there in time or that something would go wrong and I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“But everything was okay in the end?”

“Yeah.” Irwin nodded.

Dagwood lifted his head and sniffed the air. His nose quivered with interest at the strong smell of the pack. “I can’t tell if they’re actually here or not. This is a strong smell. They do this often?”

“Every month. Or I think as needed. I’m not sure.” Irwin shrugged. “We mostly keep away from each other. Packs don’t mess with packs.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Dagwood said, drily. “The packs in this area are all pretty distant. Not just from other packs but from their own members. But this pack has meetings?”

“I think my friend Blake said that their leader started the meetings so that it would bring them together. I guess it’s working if they’re leaving such a huge mark.”

Dagwood nodded, then tilted his head. “I don’t really hear anything. They probably aren’t in there. Which means…” He trailed off dramatically.

Irwin frowned. Meant what? He turned to ask the question when he was greeted suddenly by a flash of black fur. He shifted without thinking, dropping down to all four paws and ducking out of the way.

Dagwood landed clear of him and twisted around, his mouth open and his long, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. His teeth were incredibly white and pristine, glistening in the light. Now that they were out in the sun and not trapped in a dark alley, Irwin realized that the other wolf wasn’t just black. His pelt was disturbed by flashes of white and silver, though these marks didn’t seem to have anything to do with aging; they also weren’t in the right places where color variations normally occurred. In fact, there was something vaguely unnatural about their placement.

Having realized that he was the subject of scrutiny, Dagwood stepped forward, moving lightly despite his size. Irwin circled the other wolf, occasionally pushing his nose against the pale markings. The fur in those areas thinned considerably, allowing a flash of skin to show through.

These are where his scars are, Irwin realized. He dropped down onto his haunches and panted with surprise, while Dagwood regarded him with soulful eyes. I didn’t realize how many there were.

When they had been naked in each other’s presence, he’d been a bit more focused on what they were doing. He had felt Dagwood’s scars, had seen them, but he hadn’t noticed their overwhelming quantity or how brutal some of them seemed to be. Bounty hunting was clearly a dangerous occupation, but Irwin hadn’t really known just how right he was.

He whined softly, very low in his throat, and licked one of Dagwood’s ragged ear tips. Dagwood flicked his ear and then turned his head, growling softly in response as he lapped his wet tongue over Irwin’s nose. His eyes were soft and gentle, requesting that Irwin not be worried. He wagged his tail and pricked up his ears, trying his hardest to get the message across.

Irwin hesitated and then shrugged, letting himself be convinced. Dagwood was the one who had gone through the receipt and recovery of each wound, so he was going to be the expert on this. He moved on to the next topic, which was why Dagwood had seen fit to transform in the first place. They were a bit too close to normal people for his comfort.

He had his answer in the next instant when a huge ebony paw flashed seemingly out of nowhere and knocked him over onto his side in the soft sand. The world spun around him and then came to a jarring end as his hind legs and tail slid into icy-cold water. Yelping, Irwin jumped up and shook out his legs.

Dagwood grinned where he stood. Then, he bent over his front legs and wiggled his rear in the air, his posture playful.

Unfortunately for him, Irwin played to win.

Crouching down, Irwin pressed his stomach to the grass and leaped. He sailed through the air and came crashing down on Dagwood’s broad back with all four paws. The other wolf yelped and toppled over, thrashing around until he could push Irwin away with his paws. While he did that, Irwin slapped his wet tail against his face.

Sputtering, Dagwood snorted and sent water droplets flying. They stood and circled each other, their fur brushing, their tails entwining. Irwin pressed closer, forgetting all about their play fight as he took in the other’s scent, musky and strong and enticing. Dagwood responded in kind, nuzzling him, until they were standing flank-to-flank with their muzzles pushed together. Irwin could feel Dagwood’s warmth seeping through his pelt, the heat of life and desire and something else that might be tentatively called love.

He was on the verge of offering himself up, presenting himself to be claimed, when a deep, hacking cough interrupted them. Irwin froze in place, his veins tense and taut with fear. His ears went up and his tail went down, his nose quivering like crazy as he tried to decipher whether or not the person coughing was a threat. Because it was a human, no doubt about that. A smoker, from the sound of it.

He saw a movement in the trees. His body went tense. Who knew how long that person might have been there, watching them? Had they seen something they shouldn’t have? If they had, Irwin had no idea what to do about it. Threats or murder were the only options coming to mind and he didn’t know if he was prepared for either.

A black paw flashed out in front of him again, pushing him around, but this time Dagwood wasn’t being playful. Irwin found himself looking over a set of broad, furry shoulders as Dagwood stood between him and the intruder.

A man walked through the undergrowth, struggling with it, kicking angrily at weeds that tangled around his legs. He had a lanky, mean sort of set to his face, the lower half of which was hidden behind a crazy gray beard.

Irwin pricked up his ears with surprise because he knew this man.

It was Pete, one of the wolves he used to hang around with, who quit his job at the theater some time ago. He looked like hell, and he smelled like a paint factory. The lingering reek about him was that of chemicals and smoke. Between two fingers, he held a lit cigarette, but the smell of smoke was so strong that it couldn’t have been the only source.

Irwin whined uncertainly as Pete stood there, just regarding both of them with a blank stare.

Finally, Dagwood let out a low growl, disturbing the tense silence.

Pete raised the cigarette to his lips and puffed out a cloud of smoke. Irwin wrinkled his nose. He liked to chew on nicotine gum for the buzz, and he was no stranger to cigarettes or weed, but he didn’t like the smell. Whatever Pete was smoking, it was damn strong.

“You know,” Pete said, his voice rough, “I’m actually glad I ran into you. Been wondering what you were up to. Now I know. Find yourself a sugar daddy? You screwing him for money?”

“Hey,” Dagwood snarled. He transformed as he spoke, staying protectively in front of Irwin. “Who do you think you are?”

“Oh, just a friend.” Pete snorted. “And who are you, gayboy?”

Dagwood pulled in a deep breath and visibly forced himself to relax. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Irwin, who is this? Is he really a friend of yours?”

Irwin transformed back into a human, though he made no move to emerge from behind Dagwood. Trying to be subtle about it, he touched Dagwood’s hand. “We used to hang out sometimes, with other people. Not for a while, though.”

“I see.” Dagwood kept growling deep in the back of his throat. He shifted subtly, preparing to fall into a defensive stance. “I’m thinking maybe he should move along anyway, though. He seems pretty hostile.”

Irwin squeezed Dagwood’s hand, trying to tell him that he was on the right track. Pete had a track record of homophobia a mile wide, and here they had been caught cuddling. Somehow that seemed worse than if they had been interrupted while having sex.

Pete just puffed on his cigarette, hardly seeming to care where he was or what he was doing. Which brought the question to Irwin’s mind of exactly what Pete was doing all the way out here, wandering around in a place that belonged to another pack. While he and Dagwood might have been about to do the same thing, at least their intentions were born from curiosity and not mischief.

Pete never did anything unless it could cause trouble for someone else. That’s just how he was and apparently how he had always been, if you listened to the way he talked. He was full of tales of mischief both terrible and harmless, for as far back as the guy could remember. Of course, that was less and less as more time went on and he continued to pump his body full of drugs.

The smell of smoke grew stronger, though the wind hadn’t changed and neither had anything else. Irwin felt a slow sort of suspicion rise up in his chest, though he thought that setting fire to another pack’s meeting place might be going a little too far even for Pete.

It seemed that Dagwood had reached the same conclusion, however. He growled softly, hackles bristling. “Move along, punk.”

Pete laughed, though the sound was more similar to a cough because of the hoarse quality to it. “You’re calling me a punk, gayboy? I guess Irwin hasn’t told you about all the shit he’s done. But he doesn’t do it around you because sugar daddy wouldn’t like it, right?”

Irwin tensed up. He dropped Dagwood’s hand and came to stand beside the other, though all he really wanted to do was shrink down into the earth until no one would ever be able to find him. He was very aware of Dagwood’s calculating gaze turning on him, pondering these possibilities, wondering if they were true. He could feel Dagwood’s opinion of him starting to crack, to sour, and it hurt him very much

“Pete, leave us alone, okay? We aren’t doing anything to you!” He barked out the words, taking a step forward, trying his hardest to seem imposing. The tactic might have worked if not for the fact that his voice grew high-pitched, and then cracked.

Pete grinned, a crazy, drugged-up grin. His eyes flashed with a hazy, menacing light. Irwin cursed his own body, hating that this sort of thing happened all the time. Whether it was because his wolf was a different species or if it was simply some anomaly within himself, his voice was always doing that for one reason or another. Sometimes it was funny. Other times, like right now, it undermined the effect of what he was trying to say.

“It’s a free world,” Pete said. He finished his cigarette and flipped the glowing butt into the grass. A small flame sputtered, though it couldn’t quite catch on the green, living grass. “I can do whatever I want, say whatever I want. And it seems to me like you’ve been lying to your disgusting homo fucktoy here, so maybe I need to set the record straight.”

“I haven’t done anything to you!” Irwin pleaded.

Pete grinned, knowing that he had all the power now. “Don’t matter. He needs to know how much of a punk you are, too.”

Dagwood placed a hand on Irwin’s thigh, trying to catch his attention. “Irwin?” he said, and that was all. He sounded hurt, somehow, as if this was all an affront on him, a personal attack.

“Dagwood,” Irwin said back, but he couldn’t think of what else to say.

Pete took the advantage, as he always did. Lighting up another cigarette—L&M, his favorite brand—he said, “I guess Irwin didn’t tell you he’s a thief. Damn good thief, too. Give him a bit of time, and he’ll steal the whole damn store. Leave the employees wondering why they’re standing outside in the cold.” He laughed again, another harsh sound. “Looks like you didn’t know that. But if he ever gives you something, it’s gonna be stolen. Hey, even your homo wedding rings! And then he’ll be a diamond thief.”

Dagwood reached out and grabbed onto Irwin’s hand, gently squeezing his fingers. His touch said, “I refuse to believe this.” But his eyes said, “How could you?”

Irwin didn’t squeeze back, didn’t try to say anything. He knew there was nothing that could be said. He hadn’t ever planned to share that part of his life with Dagwood because the man was practically a model citizen. There was no way he would ever approve of stealing, or even tolerate it. Now that it was all coming out, he just didn’t know what to say because he hadn’t prepared for it.

“So, he steals. You know that now. But he’s a vandal, too. We all were. We took turns on the lookout but you bet your gaping ass that he got his turn. You ever broken a window, gayboy? You ever set a trash can on fire? We did. And it exploded.”

Irwin winced as he remembered that day. At the time it had seemed thrilling, almost euphoric. They hadn’t meant to make the trash can explode, but apparently there was something flammable inside it, and it just all went up. Emergency vehicles were called and everything, treating the scene like a bomb. It was one of his fondest memories, running away from that chaos with his friends at his side. He had felt so alive, so free.

Now, the memory made him feel trapped, as if he was in a cage of his own making.

“I could tell you about all sorts of shit we used to do but I don’t want to stick around here anymore. You fuckers probably don’t want to get caught here, either. Go somewhere nice and have a little chat about all I just said, yeah? Chicken enemas.” That last part was tossed over Pete’s shoulder as he turned and hurried away from the stand of trees, where the smell of smoke was growing ever stronger. Pete clearly thought that the pair of words had some meaning, influenced by the drugs in his system. That might not even have been what he said, as his voice was garbled and Irwin was distracted.

He was distracted by Dagwood, who was staring at him like they were meeting for the same time.

“Dagwood,” Irwin started to say.

He was cut off as Dagwood turned away and gestured deep into the trees. “I want to see what he’s done.” Despite the fact that this already wasn’t a personal statement, it seemed incredibly cold as it fell from his lips. The damage was done. Pete had succeeded in putting a wall between them, and Irwin had no idea how he would ever get over it to reach the other man.

He had no idea if that was even something that Dagwood would want anymore.

Dagwood pushed deep into the treeline, using his hands to shove away errant branches. Irwin followed close behind, using Dagwood as a shield for the worst of it. It wasn’t easy going, since they weren’t following any sort of path. Thorn bushes seemed to sprout up everywhere Irwin turned, and roots leapt above ground with the sole intent of tripping him.

A clearing soon opened up before them, surrounded on all three sides by more trees. The fourth side was a road, which meandered some distance away before curving out of sight. A pavilion stood in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by fresh green grass. All in all, it looked like the perfect place for a bunch of wolves to gather without the possibility of being disturbed by humans. There really was nothing over here, no trails or special things, only seclusion. In short, this spot would hold no real interest for the average park-goer.

However, not everything was so peaceful and idyllic. There were garbage cans on either side of the pavilion, and both of these were full of trash and fire, flames leaping up through the holes in the lid. Sparks scattered on the ground around the cans, most of these dying out instantly. A few caught, however, and little flames were struggling across the grass.

“Shit,” Irwin swore.

Dagwood sent him a cold look, clearly wanting to know why this fire was so different from the others he had caused. Irwin looked away, not sure how he could answer that accusation in a way that made sense.

Dagwood ran over to the nearest garbage can and looked inside. His face glowed with harsh orange heat and Irwin was gripped by a sudden fear that his companion’s hair might combust. However, Dagwood just dropped down into a crouch and started clawing aside handfuls of grass. Irwin stood there, watching, uncertain, as Dagwood grabbed up a handful of dirt and threw it in the garbage can.

“Kick dirt on the flames outside,” Dagwood commanded.

Irwin hesitated but a harsh, wordless bark from Dagwood spurred him onward. He ran over and started kicking at the ground, spraying dirt in the direction of the little struggling flames. They sputtered, which seemed encouraging, so he doubled his efforts. Meanwhile, Dagwood kept shoving handfuls of earth into the top of the trash can.

Around the same time as the flames on the ground went out, Dagwood grunted his approval. “Next one.”

They repeated the process on the other side of the pavilion, and then it was over. They had stopped a fire before it could start. Irwin supposed they might be called heroes, but the label hung on him even more crooked than before. He wasn’t a hero. He was a major fuck-up, and now he was going to pay for it.

Dagwood ignored him, however. He stomped on the burnt places on the ground, making sure that the flames were truly gone. Then, he grabbed a stick and poked around in the trash cans until he could reassure himself of the same thing.

Irwin could take the silence no longer. “Dagwood…”

He stepped forward, only to be stopped as Dagwood shoved the point of the trash-covered stick in his direction. “I want to think that little bitch of a man was lying to me,” Dagwood said. His shoulders heaved and he was breathing heavily, shaking slightly. “Because of all the drugs he was on. I want to believe this was all a lie, but the way you act tells me it isn’t. But I need to hear you tell me the truth. Did you do all those things he said?”

Irwin hesitated.

“If you say no, I’ll know you’re dishonest, and I’ll have a very hard time trusting you again. So face the facts. Come clean or don’t. It’s all up to you.”

There was no choice left to him. All he could hope was that, by being honest, he might be able to hold onto some semblance of the trust that had formed between them. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I did do all that stuff.”

“Why?” Dagwood demanded.

“Why?”

“I expected more from you, Irwin. But you don’t even understand what you’re doing, do you? You don’t understand that everything has a consequence.” Dagwood jabbed his stick to emphasize his point.

Irwin stepped back, away from the point jabbing at his chest. Fear flashed through him, and he wondered if Dagwood might not just pierce his heart on that branch and leave him for dead. But no, that was only the imaginings of an overactive mind. What might really happen would be far worse than that.

“It was just for fun. We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t know how you can find something like that to be fun. It’s wrong.”

Irwin suspected that Dagwood did know, however. The answer lay in the thrill of perhaps being caught, and yet getting away with it. It was the adrenaline rush that made it fun, the harmless risk of it all. And it was harmless, wasn’t it?

“We weren’t hurting anyone!”

“Breaking things doesn’t hurt anyone? What about the people who have to pay to have such things fixed? Or the money you cost the city when they have to send their hard-working emergency response team out to solve a problem you caused? What if someone else needed help but the people who could have saved their life was busy picking up after you?”

“You don’t know that any of that happened.”

“And you don’t know that it didn’t.”

Irwin’s heart stung. His spine prickled with shame. He searched desperately for something to say that could minimize Dagwood’s wrath. “Okay, but look. Stealing a pack of M&Ms isn’t going to make a store go bankrupt.”

“It would if you and a ton of others suddenly decided to all do it.”

“But that wouldn’t happen!”

“Even so,” Dagwood stressed the words, nearly interrupting him, “the products for sale were not made with the intention of being given away for free to any jerk who decides he doesn’t want to spend a dollar or two. This is about integrity. Which you don’t seem to have. Which is a damn shame because I thought you were different.”

“You’ve only known me for a couple fucking days!” Irwin snapped. He could feel the wolf inside him trembling, bristling, wanting to flee. The animal inside him knew that this was a battle that could not be won. Yet, it was a battle that he wasn’t ready to give up on because he knew Dagwood was being unfair. “It’s not like I’m committing murder or selling drugs to kids! And I haven’t done it since I met you, and this is kind of a time when I could really take advantage of it. You know?”

Dagwood hesitated. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’ve changed for me.”

“Maybe I have! Or maybe I just want to. Or maybe I just haven’t thought about it since I met you. Maybe that was the old Irwin. I don’t know.”

“I think I should take you on home now,” Dagwood said, and that was all. His fierce expression had faded, leaving a tired sort of contemplation in its wake.

Irwin agreed that would be for the best.

Back at his apartment, they both lingered in the doorway, wondering what to do. Every action seemed like too much and yet, just not enough.

Finally, Dagwood just slowly shook his head and walked away. Irwin contemplated going after him before turning away and shutting the door.