It was surprisingly easy for Derrick to fall asleep and just as easy for him to awaken again. He looked up at his ceiling fan, the blades steadily creaking their oddball lullaby, and tried to figure out why it was that he felt so refreshed, so ready to take on the world when he had nothing going for him.

Then he remembered the kiss and the flooding warmth that swept through him like someone caressing a harp’s strings, and it all made sense again. Well, nothing made sense, but at least he had a reason as to why he felt like he was walking on a cloud. It shouldn’t have been that way, kissing someone who had been in a holding cell for something as cryptic and sinister-sounding as “trespassing,” but that was how it was. Derrick wasn’t really in the habit of trying to kid himself about things, so he had to admit that he was very much attracted to that ruffian.

Maybe I’ll see him again.

Or, maybe not. Theirs might just have been a chance encounter, and now they had parted ways for good.

That was what he had thought before, but then they saw each other this second time. Rowan had arrived when Derrick needed him. That should have been creepy but it wasn’t. It seemed like fate.

And it seemed to him that fate had declared they would meet again. Somewhere. At some time.

Until then, he had to figure out what he was going to do with his life. He had a month of nothingness ahead of him, and it would surely drive him insane to wake up day after day with only empty hours ahead of him.

His stomach growled loudly, gaining a reverb from the muffling nature of the bed sheets. It reminded him that the last thing he had to eat was breakfast, and who knew how many hours ago that had been.

No, he correct himself. The last thing was that slice of pizza Rowan gave me.

Either way, it felt like it had been years since then, so he swung his legs out of bed and stood up. A quick glance out the window told him what his alarm clock confirmed: it was late as shit.

Oh, well. He was wide awake. Might as well make the best of it.

Rummaging around in his fridge, he came up with a quick dinner and also brought out a tub of ice cream to set out on the counter to thaw a little. Then, he went into the living room and turned on the TV just in case the world decided to end while he was asleep.

The news was boring and the food was adequate and would have been better if he’d heated it longer. He’d just been so hungry that he couldn’t wait.

With some food in his stomach, he felt better. The hunger pangs were slow to fade, like cramps, but he could tell they were already going.

Derrick spared the ice cream on the counter an idle glance, and then his eyes closed and he leaned back, figuring that he would just rest them for a little while. Ice cream was so difficult to scoop when it was frozen solid, and he just didn’t want to put in the effort right now. Just a few minutes…

When he opened his eyes again, light was filtering in through the windows in the living room, illuminating half of the hallway. Morning, he thought, and didn’t feel much one way or another. He was aware he had curled up on the couch and that the TV was still on, but he was warm and content and the monotone voices of the broadcasters didn’t really bother him. His eyes closed again and he fell asleep once more.

And for several hours, he slept off and on. Occasionally he would awaken and shift position, or listen to the TV for a minute, but he felt no real desire to move from where he was. The light coming down the hallway steadily strengthened, but that was no real concern of his since he didn’t have anywhere to be today.

Then, suddenly, something broke through his prolonged sleep. He sat bolt upright and then clamped one hand over his eyes as the world lurched crazily around him. His head was pounding in a way that he had never experienced before, and this told him that he had probably slept too fucking much.

After a moment, he realized that some of the pounding had come from an outside source. Someone had knocked on his door. How long ago had that been? A minute? A few seconds? Impossible to tell through the fog in his brain.

Staggering up to his feet, he said, “Just a minute!” He half-hoped the person who had knocked had given up or they had been trying to sell something—religion or popcorn were the usual options—and had left him a brochure. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to deal with another person when he was so uncomfortable. His stomach felt hollow again, his bladder was full, and his head hurt like nobody’s business. God, he sucked at this whole unemployment thing.

“Take your time,” a voice replied from outside the apartment door.

Derrick felt a surge of grouchiness at the fact that the other person was still out there waiting on him, but this was immediately followed by happiness when he realized who that person was. There was no mistaking that deep voice, the mellow, yet husky nature of it.

His own happiness should have surprised him, but it didn’t. He remembered thinking about how he was going to fill his time without teaching, and now it seemed like he had his answer. He could fill the time with Rowan.

Derrick stood where he was for a moment, torn by indecision. He felt like hell, and that meant he probably looked like it. At the very least, he was in need of a shower and a change of clothes. He could smell his own sleep-sweat and it mortified him to think of talking to another wolf, who would also be able to smell him.

But, there was no way that he could go do all the things he needed to do while leaving Rowan outside, waiting on the doorstep like an abandoned kitten.

“Derrick? Are you okay? You smell kind of worried.”

Worried. But not bad. He didn’t comment on that.

For some reason, that helped him feel a little braver. He turned towards the door, and that was when he noticed the ice cream carton. He had left it sitting out all night, and it had completely melted. The cardboard carton was soaked through and had started leaking all over the counter and the floor, creating huge brown puddles that looked crusty and dried at the edges. And it was still leaking too, still dripping off the counter.

“Goddammit,” he swore.

“Everything okay?”

There was no way he was going to be able to salvage this situation without looking like a complete idiot, so he threw his hands into the air and decided to just suck it up. “Coming,” he said, and went over to the door. Despite the awful situation, his heart started fluttering in his chest at the thought of seeing Rowan again.

When he opened the door, the first thing he saw was Rowan’s smile. Then that smile faded away underneath a barrage of worry. His forehead creased, his eyebrows drawing together. His smile went flat and then curved down into a frown. “You look like hell. And what’s all over your floor, Derrick?”

Derrick sighed. “Well, Mr. Criminal, that’s ice cream.”

Rowan’s eyebrows knitted together even more, if that was possible. Then, he just shook his head. “You’ve been on leave for a day and already you’re a complete mess. Makes me wonder what state you’re going to be in a month from now.”

“I’ll probably be a puddle of anxious goo,” Derrick sighed. “Just like that ice cream. Do you want to come in? Or is that too presumptuous of me?”

“Well…” Rowan shifted on his feet. He smiled again but it was nervous, almost a grimace. Derrick felt bad about that, even though he had an idea that the grimace was aimed inward rather than out. “I kind of came here to ask if you would like to spend some time with me today. But I understand if this isn’t a good time.”

A roguish, darkly handsome wolf like this was being so kind and understanding? Derrick was stunned, feeling quite certain that the world had turned upside down while he slept. All those other wolves he had tried to date, who were all so one-sided, and yet here was this almost-complete-stranger showing more depth than all of them; it could have been a ruse, a way of getting close to him to take advantage, but it really didn’t seem that way.

“Derrick? You awake?”

“Sorry,” Derrick said. He sounded a little breathless and he wasn’t quite sure of why that should be, except that he was starting to get excited. “Do you mean like a date?”

Rowan grinned a little more. His hazel eyes were particularly green in this light. “Just remember that you called it that. Not me. But if that was it, would you say yes?”

“Would you say yes if I asked you to wait until I fix everything currently wrong with me and my apartment?”

And now Rowan laughed. “Sure. I’m not going to take you anywhere looking like this, anyway.”

Derrick felt sheepish but he couldn’t help smiling back. “Okay, then you can come inside.”

He stepped to the side and Rowan entered, pulling the door shut behind himself. He took a quick look around, and Derrick waited nervously for judgment on the appearance of his apartment. He tried his damnedest not to live like a stereotypical bachelor and in fact he took pleasure in keeping his place neat and tidy, but now he was very acutely aware of all its flaws. The ice cream on the floor, the dishes in the sink, his dinner dishes on the coffee table, the socks on the floor under the coffee table, and the crooked paintings on the wall. Small things, insignificant things, but very suddenly he was ashamed of them. Ashamed of himself for not being perfect.

All Rowan said was, “You really are dedicated to music, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t exactly a puzzling question. The paintings were all music themed, and he had music note decals arching delicately over the back of the couch and basically every entryway, from the front door, to the hallway, to the bedroom doors. A guitar leaned up against one wall next to an amp, electric whereas the one currently in his office was acoustic. Most of his knickknacks were also related to music, mostly animal figurines holding instruments.

“It’s more than just my job,” Derrick said. That reminded him that he hadn’t played the Dawn Song for two days now, and the thought saddened him. All of this had really thrown a wrench into his life. Maybe nothing would ever be the same again.

“Is it your life?” Rowan asked. His voice was open and curious, without judgment.

I wouldn’t say that.

“It’s a big part of it,” he said, and that seemed to suffice because Rowan nodded in response.

“I can respect that. Well, you can trust me not to steal anything while you’re in the shower. I don’t think I could fit that guitar down my pants.”

“Is that how you normally steal things?” Then, Derrick frowned. “Wait. I should be disapproving. Do you normally steal things?”

Rowan chuckled softly. “No. I don’t.”

“Then, I think we’re okay. But I should take care of that mess first. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

Derrick started to move away, feeling a little self-conscious for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, only to feel a strong hand wrap around his arm a moment later. Rowan was holding onto him, preventing him from taking another step in that direction.

“It’s okay. Go take your shower. I can clean up in here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. Which is good, because I’m not asking you to ask me. I said I’m going to do it. You have enough going on right now, and I came here to help take your mind off of some of that. So, let me help.”

Derrick couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever offered to help him with anything, and especially not so willingly. Tilting his head up, he looked into Rowan’s eyes to see if there was a hint of any sort of ulterior motive within them. Those eyes were clear and bright and distinctly friendly, already becoming familiar to him. Nothing clouded them, not reluctance or anything that might have seemed suspicious.

Really, how was he going to argue with someone like this, who was offering to help him? Only stubborn people with an overinflated sense of their own self-worth refused help, and he definitely wasn’t one of those right now.

So, he nodded. “Okay. Thank you. And I really mean that, you know? You don’t have to do any of this.”

“But I want to,” Rowan said, his voice lowering. “I’ll take care of this. And in the future, you can owe me a favor in return. Are we square?”

Derrick hadn’t heard that phrase before. It sounded delightfully old-fashioned, so he stuck out his hand for a shake. “We’re square.”

If he was honest with himself, the idea of owing Rowan something was a little bit frightening…and very, very exciting.

Rowan didn’t really shake his hand, just gripped it tightly before letting it go a moment later. Derrick’s skin was tingling, his blood buzzing just from that brief contact. His thoughts felt scrambled, but also clear, since his headache was miraculously gone.

“Thanks again,” he said, a little awkwardly, then turned and walked off in the direction of the hallway. Something made him turn back, and he discovered that Rowan was watching him intensely from behind lowered eyelids. Heat rose up to his face but he didn’t look away. “Um, the hall closet has towels. And there’s a laundry hamper in my room.”

“Noted,” Rowan drawled. His face was mostly passive but his eyes were glittering.

Swallowing hard at the fact that he was being looked at like a juicy piece of prey, Derrick scurried off again. He ducked into the bathroom because it was the nearest doorway, and he really wanted to escape that intense gaze before it made him do something he might regret later. There was no denying the attraction between them. All the same, he thought it might ruin things if they just tossed control aside and jumped into bed together.

Then again, maybe that was what Rowan wanted. Neither of them seemed to understand what this connection between them was, so maybe this was just another case of wham-bam-thank-you-man. Once and done. Fuck and part ways. Or this might be the beginning of a real relationship.

Derrick wasn’t sure what he wanted, wasn’t sure what Rowan wanted.

The moment he was standing in the bathroom, he realized that he was going to need a change of clothes. Oh, well. He would just have to face that hurdle when it came to that. No way was he going to leave the shelter of this little room. He felt awkward enough already without revealing how absent minded he’d become.

Pathetic that I’m already so scattered.

Maybe Rowan thought he was pathetic, too. This could all be the result of pity.

Despite being fairly certain that wasn’t the reason, Derrick felt his mood drop down a notch anyway. Lowering his head, he turned on the fan, shut the door, and got the water warming up.

His skin felt thirsty and dried out, and the sound of the shower spray beating against the bottom of the tub made him strip down as fast as he could. His skin tingled where he touched, as if the act of undressing himself had suddenly become erotic.

I wish it was Rowan doing this for me. I bet if I asked, he’d do it.

Blushing even though there was no one to see him, no one listening in on his thoughts, Derrick shoved that scandalous notion aside and hopped into the shower. Hot water ran in rivulets down his bare skin and for a moment he just stood there with his head down, letting the warmth ease some of the tension from his muscles. It wasn’t until right now that he felt all the little aches and pains that sleeping on the couch had inflicted upon him. His neck seemed to be the worst off, with a crick in it that didn’t start to ease until near the very end of his shower. Luckily, a guy didn’t have to look around a whole lot in order to navigate his own bathroom. Things didn’t change all that much and if he couldn’t immediately see something, he could probably find it by groping around on the bottom of the tub with his toes.

Part of him wondered, even hoped, that he might hear the bathroom door open, followed by soft, fluttering thumps as clothes hit the floor. Then, the shower curtain would open with a crisper-sounding flutter, and he would feel a broad presence enveloping him from behind.

Nothing of the sort happened. He finished his shower in peace and then stepped out, dripping and shivering. No matter how hard he tried to remember to get a towel out before getting in the shower, he never really could. This time was no exception, especially since his thoughts were already scattered by the presence of the handsome, mysterious Rowan.

His fingers were slick on the doorknob as he opened the bathroom closet and drew out a towel. Wrapping himself up in the fluffy fabric, he scrubbed vigorously at his body and then his hair. Slightly damp and feeling recharged, Derrick felt almost back to normal again after a liberal application of deodorant and a much-needed toothbrushing. His hair was still a little too damp to style it, but he didn’t own a hair dryer because of how damaging they could be.

That reminded him of a man he’d dated once. A man in age only, mid-twenties, who acted more like a boy. His name was William, but he insisted upon being called Billy, no matter who was talking to him. Born and raised in California, Billy remained a surfer boy at heart and always dropped whatever he was doing in favor of the water, whether it was the Elizabeth River or a pool or puddle in the middle of the street; understandable, as most wolves liked water, but Derrick couldn’t forget a boyhood rumor he’d heard once about how wolves would lose their souls if they died by drowning, and so he didn’t make frolicking in water a habit.

Billy’d been sweet but about as sharp as a brick wall and just as dense. He bleached his hair much too frequently and dried it vigorously with a hairdryer on the hottest setting. His fine, brittle hair had probably been his worst feature, even though he acted as if it was his best.

The whole point to this was that until his hair dried, Derrick had no real business lingering in the bathroom. Nothing remained to keep him here. It was time to get dressed, except his clothes were in the bedroom.

“Oh, boy,” he breathed. His heart beat a little more rapidly, and he wrapped the towel tighter around his body as if that could hold him together. The thought of running across the hall naked—if only for a fraction of a second—while Rowan was potentially watching…was exciting. He had to be honest with himself about that. His groin was a little tense and tight, and his organ felt distinctly on the verge of hardening.

Well, the longer he waited, the worse it was going to get. Pulling in a deep breath, he grabbed at the bathroom door and poked his head out. His senses were on alert, but he couldn’t pick up on Rowan’s scent, couldn’t immediately pinpoint his location because of the outpouring of sweet steam leaving the bathroom.

“Rowan?” he called. His voice rose up embarrassingly high in pitch.

Through the curls of white steam, he could see most of the living room from this angle. However, he couldn’t see Rowan.

“Need something?” Rowan called back from wherever it was he was hiding. It sounded as if he was in the kitchen, though for the life of him Derrick didn’t know why that would be. Maybe raiding the fridge or still cleaning up the ice cream mess?

“No, not really. Um, just need you to not look down the hall. I forgot…clothes.”

Rowan laughed, and the sound was distinctly deep and musical, reminding him of the sexual croon of a saxophone. “I don’t mind at all, but sure. I won’t look. You’ve got five seconds.”

That last part was almost certainly a tease but Derrick wasn’t going to take chances. He dashed through the bathroom door and into the open bedroom doorway slightly further down the hall. The journey took only a blink but by the time it was over, he was blushing like crazy.

Okay. At least it’s over, though. Don’t ever have to do it again unless I want to.

Derrick went over to his dresser and rummaged through the drawers, trying to decide what to wear. This hadn’t been a dilemma for him in a very long time. He wore a variation of the same professional-but-relaxed outfit when he went to Churchland to teach. Upon returning home, he would cast off those restricting clothes and don a t-shirt and sweatpants. If it was hot enough, he’d chill around in his boxers and nothing else.

On the weekends, if he had to go anywhere, it was jeans and whatever shirt matched the weather, plus or minus a jacket. It was an easy formula that took most of the guesswork out of getting dressed, one of which he was sure most people possessed their own variation.

But he hadn’t been on a date in so long, if this could even really qualify as a date. He still wasn’t clear on that. And in any case, he didn’t know where they were going or what they were going to do. He had no information by which to make a smart decision.

Then again, maybe it didn’t really matter. Rowan didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would frequent fancy restaurants or anything like that. And if he was, and appearances continued to be deceiving, then surely Rowan would tell him and he could come back here and change clothes. He might feel foolish while doing it, but that was just going to have to be a risk that he took.

Derrick wasn’t sure if he’d convinced himself to feel better or not, but he got dressed in his best jeans and a black t-shirt with white musical notes drifting diagonally downward from the shoulder.

Maybe I play up my aesthetic a little too much, he mused while stepping out of the bedroom. Ah well, Rowan didn’t really seem to mind. Besides, weren’t other people the same way? Didn’t they also have obsessions with tv-shows or video games that caused them to collect memorabilia?

Or was he just trying to make up excuses so he wouldn’t feel so weird? All of the above, probably.

The soapy-smelling steam from his shower was dissipating, allowing other scents to filter through. Intriguing and irresistible scents. Pancakes, frying sausage, and the heady aroma of fresh coffee.

“You’ve been busy,” Derrick commented while stepping out into the open area between the living room and kitchen. The ice cream mess had been cleaned up, and that part of the floor glistened spotlessly. Rowan had found an apron in the pantry somewhere, which Derrick hardly recognized so it couldn’t have been easy to find.

It wasn’t pancakes that were cooking. Instead, Rowan had also dug out the waffle maker that Derrick hadn’t remembered existed, and he was making waffles. A large bowl of very dark brown batter sat nearby, dripping neatly off one side onto a paper towel to prevent any further messes. Sausage was indeed frying in a pan on the stove, caramelized and also charred in a few places.

A lot of wolves preferred their meat as close to raw as possible, a state which most chefs disgustedly referred to as blue. That was just the nature of the animal.

But Derrick hadn’t ever felt that way. He wasn’t a purist. Maybe it was because he was an omega, or because he spent quite a lot of time around humans and may have adopted some of their tastes and preferences. Either way, he would always choose flavor over anything else. Meat tasted better to him when it was actually cooked properly, and those sausages were looking pretty damn fine.

“Hope you like your sausage well-done,” Rowan said, almost as if he had read Derrick’s mind. On the other hand, he also sounded slightly apologetic, as if he was expecting an answer in the negative. “I just can’t stand eating rubbery, rare shit.”

“Actually, I like it this way, too.”

Rowan’s gaze flashed with approval. Wielding a spatula, he turned the sausage links over in the pan to inspect how they were coming along. The fat in the bottom of the pan hissed and sizzled angrily as he did so, grease splattering onto his arm. He didn’t even seem to notice as he turned the heat down. “These are pretty much done. Waffles are still going, though. Hope you like chocolate.”

Derrick frowned, trying to remember if he’d even had anything chocolate-flavored in his pantry. He didn’t often make waffles or pancakes or anything, and he preferred his oatmeal unhealthy and prepackaged so he didn’t have to bother with flavoring it himself. Then, something clicked in his thoughts and he asked, “You put the ice cream in the waffles?”

“Technically, I made waffles out of the ice cream. And flour and all that other shit.” Rowan shrugged. “You seemed in the mood for ice cream, and it’d be a shame to let all that go to waste. I can scrap them if you want. No skin off my nose, except that means you’d be waiting even longer, and I can hear your stomach from all the way over here.”

Honestly, chocolate ice cream waffles sounded pretty damn good to Derrick. There must have been a look on his face that said so for him, because Rowan just chuckled.

“Coffee’s probably ready by now if you want to get some. You’ll have to forgive me but I couldn’t find your mugs.” This last part was spoken sarcastically, accompanied by a very intense eyeroll.

Derrick laughed, especially when he saw that the only mug he owned had been set out on the counter in front of the coffee pot. “I only have that one.”

“Yeah, I figured that out.” Rowan pursed out his lips, which was an odd expression on his handsome face. Derrick would have done anything to see that pout leave, but luckily it was playful and faded quickly. “I looked all through your cabinets, and that’s where I found this apron. But I’ll be damned if I found any other mugs. Why only one?”

Because no one ever wanted to stick around to even have coffee with me before. That meant staying late or overnight and no one ever did.

He didn’t say that out loud. All he said was, “Well, I’ve only ever needed one.” He washed it every single night so that it would always be ready again the next time he needed it.

Rowan seemed to know not to ask any further questions. He just shrugged teasingly while starting to remove waffles from the iron. They were steaming and looked absolutely gorgeous. “I guess that means I’ll be drinking mine directly from the pot.”

“I have some paper cups under the sink.”

“Great, so I can pretend like I’m at an office meeting. My life has gotten so much more exciting since I met you, do you know that?”

Derrick laughed, but he couldn’t tell if there was any truth in the statement or not. “You didn’t have to do all this anyway.” He was going to just leave it at that but then he blurted out, “Why?”

Rowan started pouring careful measured amounts of waffle batter into the maker, which started to cook and settle immediately. “I wanted to. You had just woken up, and you were going to be hungry. I could have suggested we go out somewhere but I wanted a more intimate setting.”

That word in particular sent a thrill through Derrick’s body. He shivered while pouring coffee and nearly sent the boiling hot stream cascading down over his own hand. His groin felt tight again and he took a deep breath, focusing hard to keep the front of his jeans from tenting outwards. “Okay,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I believe you.”

He turned around after setting his coffee cup down on the counter, aiming to fetch the creamer from the fridge. It was chocolate fudge flavored and he fully intended to make liberal use of it, since this was an occasion that didn’t happen often. Might as well go overboard and enjoy it. However, he was stopped in his tracks by the fact that Rowan was gazing at him with that intense, multifaceted gaze of his.

Intimate, Derrick thought, and couldn’t breathe for real this time. He stayed completely and utterly still, feeling his manhood harden and start to swell, and knew it was a losing battle. They still hardly knew each other, but it was in this moment that he realized the power Rowan held over him. He didn’t know why that should be or how it had come about, but it was real. Rowan was an alpha who knew what he wanted, and what he wanted seemed to be Derrick. There was no arguing with that, and Derrick didn’t want to argue with it. He wanted to give in, to be claimed right this instant.

Then Rowan blinked, releasing Derrick from his hold. He grinned, a ferocious, wild, and dominant grin, but went back to the waffles.

Derrick knew now he was dealing with someone who was incredibly different from anyone that he had ever met before. The men he had dated in the past would have taken advantage of their hold over him, would have used it to get what they wanted. Rowan had just shown him that he wasn’t going to do that. He had control not just over Derrick, but also over himself.

That was sadly a rare thing, but that also made it exciting. The tension between the two of them would build and build, and who knew what would happen when it was finally released?

He wanted to find out. Oh, he wanted to find out so badly. The waiting would be excruciating but oh so worth it.

“The waffles are ready,” Rowan said easily, but his voice was slightly raw. “Got a few more left to make but you can go ahead and get started eating. Syrup is by the coffee pot.”

Yes, Derrick noted. The syrup was by the coffee pot. So was a plate and fork. Nearly everything had been so politely and thoughtfully done for him. As he fetched a few burning-hot waffles from the pile Rowan had made on a different plate, he said, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You already said that.”

“I know, but I’ve said it again. Really, you didn’t have to do this. So, thank you.”

Rowan gazed at him from beneath lowered eyelids as if trying to figure something out. “How old are you?”

“Where did that come from? Twenty-eight, why? How old are you?”

All at once, he was a little afraid of what the answer might be. With shifters, it could be hard to tell age. Since they were both human and animal, they tended to have the best of both worlds. They could heal twice as fast and were able to access their animal senses at any time, and wolves especially had hardy constitutions and wonderful endurance. All that added up to a person who could look 20 years younger than his real age, or an adolescent who already looked as mature as an adult. There was no real way of telling, except to ask for clarification and hope the other person told the truth.

So, Derrick was afraid. Was he talking to a very mature 16-year-old or a devilishly handsome 50-year-old? Or none of the above? And what was even the whole point of this conversation, anyway?

“I’m 25, but that’s not the point.”

Derrick breathed a huge sigh of relief. He realized that he’d been pouring syrup on his waffles the entire time that he’d been in suspense, awaiting an answer, and now his food was swimming in a pool of sticky sugar. “Then, what was the point?”

“Are you telling me that you’ve gone almost 30 years without someone doing something nice for you?”

“Usually there’s an ulterior motive involved,” Derrick said helpfully.

Rowan reached out and touched his cheek. The motion startled Derrick so that by the time it really registered what was happening, Rowan had already pulled away again. His eyes were very solemn and deep when he spoke again. “No wonder you look so sad all the time.”

Do I look sad?

Rowan’s beautiful eyes flickered as if he had heard the question somehow but he didn’t answer out loud if he had. Instead, he went back to the sausages on the stove and nudged them around in the pan as if he needed something to do with his hands.

Derrick’s cheek tingled from that soft touch. He didn’t know what to do or what to say, so it seemed that the best thing to do was gather up his plate and coffee and leave.

After retreating into the living room, he sat down on the couch and held his plate in his lap. The heat from the fresh food filtered through the plate and his jeans, warming the skin of his thighs to a near-painful level. He didn’t care much. It gave him something to focus on other than his confused thoughts and his throbbing groin.

Rowan wore the apron as if it was his day job. He didn’t look ridiculous in it at all. It seemed to soften his rough edges, so much so that it was almost possible for Derrick to forget that they’d met in a holding cell.

Maybe someday he really would forget. A first meeting wasn’t everything. That was if this turned out to be something that lasted a long time, of course, instead of being just another brief fling.

Rowan finished with the waffles but he didn’t immediately fetch his own food and start eating. Instead, he poured water in the sausage pan so it would be easier to clean later on, and then wiped down the waffle maker. He also rinsed out the batter bowl so the contents wouldn’t dry to a cement-like consistency. Only when all that was done did he fetch a plate and a cup of coffee. Then, he sauntered over to the living room and stood in front of the couch beside Derrick.

Never in his life would Derrick have ever described someone as walking gracefully. Walking was just walking. Everyone did it. Everyone tripped over nothing at some time or another. That was just what went along with walking around on two legs: you were more likely to fall over.

However, Rowan moved as if he was still a wolf, as if having only half the legs didn’t bother him at all. There was a subtle sway to his hips, a sort of poise about him as if he had never tripped before and never would.

Confidence, Derrick figured. That’s what it is. Human and wolf combined. Best of both worlds. Except I don’t ever feel that way about myself.

Rowan said, “Mind if I sit here?”

Derrick blinked up at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but this wasn’t it. “Sure.”

There wasn’t much conversation between them as they sat and ate together. Watching the human news didn’t exactly inspire talk, since most of it was caused by petty, existential problems, which were really the only sort that humans ever had. They couldn’t just live, couldn’t just exist and do the best they could with what they had. They needed to try to control others, to cause problems for the rest of the world around them. Nothing was ever good for them, no matter what they did.

But for all the talk that was lacking, Derrick felt like there was still an awful lot of things being said between them. It was the way in which their bodies leaned towards each other as if they were magnetized, the fact that they kept looking at each other of out of the corners of their eyes, just like they had done in the holding cell. He was so incredibly conscious of the other wolf’s heat, his nearness, and dominating presence.

And there was the fact that Rowan was still wearing that stupid apron. It had been a joke gift from one of the lunch ladies at Churchland, the Christmas after he’d done a lot of helping out on the lunch line. It was very pale pink and covered in darker pink flowers. Very feminine. Almost too feminine, as if it should belong to a girl instead of a woman.

But he had kept it, because it was a gift. And to have Rowan wearing it so casually…well, that was sexy. Here was a man so confident in his own body, his own masculinity, that he didn’t let a ridiculous pink apron bother him. It was such an insignificant thing but for many men, it would have been a very big deal.

After they finished eating, Rowan dropped his hand down into the space between them. His fingers brushed against the fabric of Derrick’s jeans. He couldn’t feel that touch for himself, but he really, really wanted to.

“So,” he said. “You still up for our date?”

“Of course I am!” Derrick said. He leaned forward a little and his hair flopped against his face, reminding him that he hadn’t styled it yet. It should be plenty dry enough by now. “But I should do my hair first.”

“While you do that, I’ll clean up the kitchen. Put the food away. One of us needs to know how to do that.” Rowan stood up with a teasing wink and then stood up from the couch. The couch creaked as his weight lifted.

His insides fluttering from that wink, Derrick left his plate on the coffee table and headed into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he was as ready to face the day as he would ever be.

Rowan was waiting for him, and they headed out down through the apartment building together and out into the parking lot. There were no more annoying reporters around to bother them, but judging from the way Rowan was looking around, Derrick thought they might not have seen the last of them. Like an annoying itch that just couldn’t be scratched right, they would come back until they decided to leave of their own accord. There was no pattern to such an inexplicable and irritating thing like that.

Rowan stood by the driver’s side of the car and held out his hand for the keys. Derrick obediently handed them over, knowing he wouldn’t have dared dream of doing something like this with anyone else; and Rowan had proven himself to be a very careful driver already, so it couldn’t hurt.

“Where are we going?” Derrick asked as Rowan pulled out of the parking lot and entered the main streets that wove through Portsmouth.

Rowan chuckled a little, reaching over to ruffle his hair. That completely ruined the whole point of styling his hair, but Derrick didn’t mind a single damn bit. “Just be patient. You’ll see.”

Derrick decided that he would be patient, and that he would see.

Things didn’t go the way he had thought they would. If he had been expecting something wild and unpredictable, this certainly wasn’t it. They drove down to Portsmouth City Park, and it was a good time for it, before all the kids got out of school and crowded up the view. Derrick really liked kids, he did, but sometimes you could enjoy things better without them there.

Then again, he had heard it was different with your own kids. He hoped that he would get to find out someday.

The river was placid as they walked along its length, operating to its own rhythm and completely unaffected by the periodic fierce winds that blew through the rest of the city. Fall was on the way but the world still didn’t seem to realize it yet. The trees had yet to change color and the days were still long, the nights still relatively balmy. No one else that they passed had bothered to wear a jacket, and many people were still out and about in shorts and skirts.

Either because Rowan looked dangerous or through simple good luck, no one else came near them as they walked down the path by the river. It would have been a perfect opportunity to discuss important things or to sneak in a bit of hand-holding when there were no judgmental eyes on them, but Derrick was too timid to make that move on his own. And the alpha at his side seemed distracted, constantly scanning the park to their left.

Finally, the curiosity was too much for Derrick. He reached out and lightly touched the side of Rowan’s shirt, being careful not to actually make contact with the firm body—he had to be firm, he just had to—beneath.

Rowan paused and raised his thick eyebrows. The sunlight danced in his eyes, turning them the burnished gold of freshly-turned fall leaves. His eyes seemed to hold that moment of the season where, for a few days, everything seemed new and crisp and full of potential, before the harsh weather deepened and everything went brown.

“Cat got your tongue?” Rowan teased.

“Why didn’t we take your motorcycle?”

That hadn’t been the question he meant to ask but it was the one that came out. It wasn’t all that surprising to him. He’d gotten nervous and backed off.

A small smile curved at the edge of Rowan’s lips. “You ever ridden a hog before?”

“No.”

“Then, that’s why. Maybe some other time. But for right now, I just wanted to enjoy my time with you in peace. But that’s not what you wanted to ask.”

Derrick blinked. He realized that he had kept his hand nearly touching the other man, and now he dropped it down at his side, though not without a tinge of regret. “How did you know?”

“You’re like an open book to me,” Rowan murmured. He leaned his head forward slightly, crossing some of the distance between him. For a moment, the gold of his eyes sharpened with desire. His breathing seemed to pick up in pace. His breath was very hot and quite suddenly, Derrick felt an urgent need to feel more of that heat. He leaned in closer until their lips were almost touching, gazing deep into Rowan’s eyes and incapable of looking away. “Ever since I first saw you…”

Since you first saw me. Not since we met.

There was a puzzle hidden in those words, but Derrick didn’t really feel like he currently had the brainpower to be able to put the pieces together in the right order. Later, perhaps, but right now all the blood in his body was being concentrated towards a different part of himself, leaving his brain with very little to spare.

“Why do you keep looking around like that?” Derrick managed to ask. As he spoke, their lips very nearly brushed together. Perhaps they did, just a ghost of a touch there and then gone. He could taste the sweetness of Rowan’s breath, the lingering bitterness of coffee. “Is…is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rowan said. He leaned away, and just like that, the connection between them was broken. Eyebrows drawing together again, he looked off into the distance. Derrick tried to follow his gaze but he couldn’t see anything. “I just don’t want something to catch me by surprise.”

“Like the press?”

“Or something,” Rowan agreed, which really wasn’t much of an answer at all. He kept looking around but this time it seemed to be for a different reason, as there was a different sort of look on his face. “We’re alone out here.”

Derrick took a look for himself and realized it was true. He couldn’t see a single other person in the vicinity. The road was a long way away from here, hidden by the sloping lay of the land, which meant there were no cars to be seen, either. And the river was unusually devoid of boats. The entire universe seemed to have all pulled together in this moment to isolate them for one reason or another.

Derrick had his answer about what that reason was when Rowan suddenly disappeared. He turned his head, startled, disbelieving, only to find that the other wolf hadn’t really gone anywhere; he’d only shifted and was now standing in the grass on four massive paws.

Rowan wasn’t the largest wolf Derrick had ever seen, but he was certainly the most beautiful. His fur was thick and shaggy, dark red-brown with flashes of white and gray. In the sunlight, he shone like a ruby.

Dropping down over his front paws, Rowan lifted his tail up into the air in a universal canine invitation to play.

I haven’t played like that since I was a kid.

Most pack wolves were pretty touchy-feely when compared with regular humans, since touch and displays of affection—or aggression—were an important part of how wolves communicated. Derrick himself was part of a pack but only distantly. It didn’t really define who he was, and he wasn’t particularly overzealous about how his pack was the best in the world, in a way that some others could be. His closest interactions were with the kids at the school, and there was a very fine line there between touching that was acceptable and touching that wasn’t. It was a line that he had no real desire to push at.

So this, this was something new. He spent more time in his human form. To play around as a wolf…He never really had a reason to.

But here was Rowan, his tail waving slowly in the air, inviting him to let go and really embrace that other part of himself.

If this was any other person, Derrick would have scolded them for being childish or taking a risk that they might be seen. In turn, he would have been reprimanded for being uptight.

This wasn’t anyone else. This was Rowan. Derrick figured he might as well continue the chain of doing things that he normally didn’t. Tomorrow, this might all just be gone. He should enjoy it while it was here and available to him.

So, he transformed, dropping down on his own four legs. The world twisted around him, becoming a better version of its former self. Details were just that much clearer and scents were sharper, carried in on a wind that felt somehow more lively than before as it tugged on his pelt. Colors were different, a little muted, but now he could also hear the cars on the distant road and the scurrying of something small in the grass nearby.

Rowan was twice Derrick’s size now, being an alpha, yet this wasn’t intimidating. Somehow, Derrick knew that his companion would be gentle with him.

Opening his mouth, Derrick let his tongue loll out playfully. He dropped down over his own front paws, mirroring Rowan’s gesture of play, and then he threw himself forward as fast as he could. The world blurred around him and he struck against a furry, muscular body. His jaws parted and he playfully nipped at every spot he could reach. His paws were grabbing and he clutched them at anything he could reach.

An amused growl reached his ears and then the world lurched around him as Rowan stood up. There was almost no effort at all in the motion because of how much lighter Derrick was compared to him.

Then, unceremoniously, Rowan flopped onto his side and pinned Derrick beneath him.

It wasn’t a hard fall, so it didn’t hurt, but Derrick was as trapped as could be. Panting and whining under his breath, he kicked out with his paws and tried to grab at the grass to give himself some momentum. There was none to be found. He was done for.

I give, he thought, and went limp. It didn’t even bother him at all that he’d been beaten so easily.

Rowan rolled off of him and looked at him with lazy want. His tail wagged and then he shifted position to stretch his neck out. A warm, wet tongue lapped over Derrick’s ear.

Lowering his head, Derrick let out a low growl of permission.

For a short time, they were only two animals enjoying the other’s company. The sun warmed their pelts as they lay together, always touching in some manner or another. Rowan mostly groomed Derrick, lapping his tongue over his neck and ears, down his spine, but occasionally Derrick managed to sneak in a few licks of his own. The human part of himself had gone dormant, didn’t mind at all the feel of fur on his tongue, or the taste of lupine musk hitting his senses. All of it was pleasurable to him, though not in an inherently sexual way.

He was just…content. His current mood was a flute, light and fluttering.

Their reverie was broken by footsteps approaching rapidly in the distance. A human wouldn’t have been able to hear the sound but they were more than just humans, able to pick apart the tangle of gusting wind and river waves and rustling grass to get to the heart of the matter.

Rowan looked at Derrick and let out an irritable growl that was simultaneously full of regret, but he shifted back into his human form. Probably nothing would come of it if they were seen as wolves. The oncoming human might simply have mistaken them as dogs. However, they couldn’t take that risk.

With an echoing pang of regret deep in his heart, Derrick also returned to his human shape. They were both still dressed and looked exactly as they had before becoming wolves. Some shapeshifters destroyed their clothes or slipped out of them when they shifted, but most of them didn’t have that problem. It was something no one could really explain, but the leading theory was that a person didn’t necessarily consider their clothes to be separate entities. You wore your clothes. For a time, they were part of you. Therefore, they shifted with you and returned again when you were done.

A person appeared at the far end of the path beside the river. It was a woman in skimpy clothing, jogging her heart out. Judging from the way she glistened in the sunlight, she’d been at it for a while. Her feet pounded the concrete in time with her huffing breath, accompanied by the wild swinging of her arms. With her head down, she probably didn’t even realize that they were there.

The two of them stayed quiet until long after she was out of earshot, when she was so far away that she was only a dark blur in the distance. Then, Derrick spared a glance at Rowan and found that the other wolf was already giving him a similar look. Rowan raised his eyebrows and then laughed, and Derrick started laughing, too. There was nothing that had happened that had been particularly funny, but he was mostly laughing just because he felt good. He felt alive. Hell, he felt special.

“Close call,” Rowan said. “Probably shouldn’t do it again out here in the open.”

“No,” Derrick agreed. Then, he sighed. “Was fun, though. I haven’t had fun like that for as long as I can remember.”

“Maybe that’s about to change.” Rowan stood up and reached down, holding out one hand. “Come on. I want to walk awhile longer. It’s nice out. Then maybe we can get some lunch somewhere, and then I should get going. I’ve got work later tonight.”

Disappointment flooded through Derrick but he shook it off. Of course Rowan would have work. Just because he himself was on leave didn’t mean everyone else was. “Where do you work?” He grabbed onto the proffered hand and used it to pull himself up.

“Liquor store. It’s not so bad, so don’t give me that look.” Rowan laughed and kept ahold of his hand, not letting go even though they were both standing steady now. No way was Derrick going to ask him to let go. “Pays the bills. Not bad money either if you stick with it and get a few raises.”

“You must be employee of the month,” Derrick teased. His hand felt very warm. So did the rest of him.

“Well, there aren’t many of us,” Rowan laughed. “The boss rotates us so we all get a turn up on the wall. Not that it’s good for anything. Come on. I’m having fun.”

So am I.

They continued to hold hands as they walked down the river. No one else passed by but they did see a few people in the distance, and someone was letting their dog run loose. They didn’t really talk, just enjoying each others company.

Eventually, the path they followed curved away from the river and back around in the direction of the street. Rowan seemed reluctant to follow it and have the fun end, but he didn’t protest out loud. His pace did slow down, however.

Before too long, they were back in front of Derrick’s car. They lingered together near the hood, both of them unwilling to be the first to get inside and break the magic that seemed to have formed between them out here. The reality of the situation was that things would be the same, but they would feel different.

Suddenly, something tugged on Derrick’s jeans. He twitched with surprise, bumping against Rowan, and then turned to see a little boy pulling on him. The tyke was human and couldn’t have been more than two or three years old. Tears wet his cheeks, and the hand he wasn’t using to tug on Derrick was rubbing over his eyes, smearing the trails of tears but not really getting rid of them.

Derrick immediately looked around to see if there was a parent nearby, but there wasn’t. Concern started to build inside him and he dropped down to his knees, ignoring Rowan’s startled exclamation beside him.

A quick inspection of the child told him there wasn’t anything that seemed wrong. The clothes were rumpled but no more than that of any other child would be, and he didn’t seem to be hurt, just scared.

“Hey, buddy,” Derrick said, very softly. He didn’t touch the kid just yet, even though his heart and soul ached to pull the child against him to soothe away his fears. “What’s up?”

“Mommy’s gone,” the little boy sniffed. He was being relatively quiet for an upset child but the tone of his voice rose higher throughout the three syllables, signaling that there was a storm brewing underneath.

“Can’t find her, huh? How long has she been gone for?”

The little boy didn’t answer. Derrick wasn’t really surprised. There were a lot of fully-grown adults who couldn’t seem to be able to tell how much time had passed between one event and another. Maybe that was just another part of being a shifter, having that internal clock that kept ticking away no matter what.

All the same, it was important that these question be asked.

“What’s your Mom look like, buddy?”

“She didn’t put on her face today.”

Derrick could feel Rowan’s bafflement about just what the hell that statement might mean. It didn’t really faze Derrick, though. Kids this young were just beginning to grasp the concept that the world around them could be described in words. They didn’t have all the words yet, but they did the best they could with what they had, while slowly adding more to their vocabulary.

“Rowan,” he said. “I need you to start looking around. Look for single women by themselves or maybe someone in a group who looks afraid. Especially women who aren’t wearing makeup. I’ll stay here.”

“Are you…sure?” Rowan said.

“I’m sure,” Derrick replied, and held out his arms to the kid. “Come here. It’s okay. We’re going to find your Mom.”

Rowan hesitated where he stood for a moment or two longer before heading off at a jog. Derrick waited for the child to come to him, then he folded the little boy into his arms and held him close. Stroking his fingers through fine brown hair, he murmured, “It’s okay. You’re fine now. It’s okay.”

The boy sniffled against him but lifted his arms up and wrapped them tightly around Derrick’s neck. There was no hesitation in the movement. He was only a little kid seeking comfort, taking it where it was given to him. It could be so easy for a child to be taken advantage of like this, and he was very lucky that he’d come to Derrick instead of someone else.

“What’s your name, honey?” Derrick asked, standing up and hoisting the boy. The kid felt heavy, which meant he was probably at a good weight for his size. Derrick felt guilty for searching for signs of abuse even in this situation, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been blind to the signs before and he wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again if he could help it.

“Sammy,” the little boy sniffed. His head lolled trustingly against Derrick’s shoulder.

“Well, my name’s Derrick. Do you want to know a secret?”

Sammy didn’t say anything in response. Derrick scanned his surroundings, but there was no sign of anyone nearby that looked as if they might be missing their child.

Swaying slightly, Derrick lowered his voice. “The secret is that I’m really a wolf.”

Sammy lifted his head up. His eyes were as big as saucers. “A wuff? A big bad wuff?”

“No way!” Derrick said quickly. “I’m a good wuff. The best wuff. I can turn into a wuff whenever I want. I’ve got black and white fur.”

“Can I be a wuff, too?”

Derrick laughed softly. Sammy already looked better, his fear replaced by curiosity. “You can try. What color do you want to be?”

There was no real harm in telling his true nature to a child. Toddlers babbled about all sorts of things that didn’t make sense, and they usually didn’t remember much that happened during this age when they were older. If Sammy grew up and remembered being rescued by a nice wolfman, he would assume he had imagined most of it. Just a part of childhood. Just a game, a way of coping.

By the time Rowan returned with Sammy’s mother, Derrick had fully engaged the little boy in a game of tag. Both of them were growling, Derrick in his wolf voice and Sammy in his toddler imitation, and Sammy kept letting out playful little barking sounds.

“Sammy!” a woman cried out.

A woman who was indeed wearing no makeup came barreling across the field towards them, still holding her car keys in one hand. The story she told was simple and unfortunately common. She had been spending time with her son at the park during a rare day off from work—single mother, she confided—and went to buckle him in his seat when it was time to go home. An errant gust of wind blew through the car and sent some important papers scattering across the parking lot. She chased them. Unwilling to let his fun end just yet, Sammy had slipped out of his seat and was out of sight when his mother returned. She was tired, distracted, and she didn’t notice that her son was no longer in the car before driving away.

Only a minute later, when she realized that Sammy was being unusually quiet, she had realized her mistake. When she returned, she couldn’t find him anywhere, and that was because Sammy had realized he was forgotten and had run to find the nearest adult. The nearest adults just so happened to be Derrick and Rowan, almost half a mile away from where he had been left behind.

In the end, there was no harm done, and Sammy’s mother was extremely grateful that her son had been looked after so well.

“You were so good with him,” she told Derrick, and kissed him on the cheek before leaving. Sammy jabbered to her as he was carried away, already having forgotten the incident in favor of his new life as a pretend wolf.

“She was right, you know.”

Derrick glanced over at Rowan as he spoke. They had sat in the car for a few minutes to make sure that the young mother left without any further incident, waving at them as she drove past. In that time, neither of them had spoken until now. “What do you mean?”

“You really were good with that little kid. It surprised me, but maybe it shouldn’t have. You’re a teacher, after all.”

Derrick blushed. He’d been blushing ever since Sammy’s mother kissed him on the cheek, although it had faded some as the minutes went on. Now it returned in full-force, as hot and bright on his face as a summer day. “I’ve always liked kids.”

He didn’t say out loud that he’d always wanted some of his own. And Rowan didn’t ask.

Their lunch together was uneventful and thankfully quiet, with no further incidents to throw a wrench into their time together. Rowan continued to scan their surroundings with that unsettling focus, but Derrick decided to let it go.

Before he knew it, they were standing together in front of his apartment door. He fumbled with his key and got the door opened, then turned to look at Rowan. His heart was already preparing to ache, already in the process of being lonely.

Then Rowan kissed him, and all those thoughts of loneliness and empty hours were shoved from his mind.