I’d wanted to spend the day in my pajamas, lounging in the wicker papasan chair I’d gotten on sale because it had been the floor model. It was dinged in a bunch of places and had a stain on the cushion that I hoped was somebody’s coffee and not something more unsavory. I’d washed it three times anyway.
But I had no coffee and no suitable breakfast food, not even cereal, because I wasn’t really a cereal guy. I did like granola… maybe I’d try to find some cheap granola. What I actually wanted was an egg and turkey bacon bagel. Or salmon and fake cream cheese with capers. But salmon was more expensive than I could afford.
I honestly probably couldn’t afford eggs and turkey bacon, either, but they were more affordable than vegan cream cheese, salmon, and capers, at least. And I was hungry. It would be a treat to myself for being an adult and going grocery shopping.
But in order to go out in public, I had to shower and put on clothes.
Once I’d gotten clean, I dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve grey t-shirt from UVA, and a grey-blue zipper sweatshirt from Shenandoah National Park. Early September in Wisconsin wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was definitely a lot cooler at seven in the morning than I was used to it being at this point in the year.
I was honestly kind of enjoying it. It was cooler up in the mountains where Noah and I liked to go hiking, and where we’d grown up, although as kids we weren’t really paying attention to the beauties of nature or the pleasantness of cool mountain air. So Wisconsin’s mid-fifties temperatures in the morning were great as far as I was concerned.
I pulled on my old hiking boots—I needed new ones, and other shoes that weren’t my work shoes, but money was tight—and headed out, locking my door and heading down the wooden exterior stairs, wincing a little as my knee made its displeasure known with every step.
I smelled it as soon as my feet hit the pavement at the bottom.
Him. I smelledhimas soon as my feet hit the pavement.
I frowned, my eyes scanning the alleyway, looking for his familiar form, my heart pounding in my chest.
Nothing. And it’s not hard to hide in the alley between my building and the falling-apart asphalt parking area behind the building. It’s not like he was a small man—Oh.
I found him under a half folded and damp cardboard box from the candy store downstairs, his fur a mess of mud and God only knew what else. He let out a grunt when I pulled the box off him, then blinked his beady eyes at me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him, a mix of annoyed and weirdly flattered.
He let out a grumbling noise and tried to put his paws over his stripey nose.
“You’re going to cut yourself with those,” I told him, sharply. “Get out of there. You’re filthy and you stink.” I stepped back, letting the box fall again.
With another grunt and a sigh, he pushed himself out from under the box, half-shuffling, half-waddling toward me. Hestopped by the toes of my boots and looked up at me, letting out a soft half-whining sound.
Then promptly threw up on my shoes.
“Oh, forfuck’ssake,” I muttered. I guess it was a good thing I hadn’t yet gotten new hiking boots, although I wasn’t looking forward to getting badger vomit out of them, because despite the fact that they were now both wornandrevolting, I still couldn’t afford new ones.
Elliot made another whining sound, then laid down and rolled to show me his furry belly.
This also meant, extra unfortunately, that he’d just rolled in his own vomit.
Having had previous experience with hungover shifters, I had a pretty good idea that I was dealing with one again. At least Elliot hadn’t tried to lick my face the way Noah did—I guess badger submissive behavior and wolf submissive behavior were different. Thank God.
Breakfast and coffee were clearly going to have to wait.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I let out a grunt—in spite of myself—as I hefted the whining badger under his forelegs, hauling his disgusting self back up my stairs. I half-dropped him juggling my keys, and he scrabbled a little against one leg, his claws cutting through my jeans and my shin.
“Shit,” I hissed. His claws were sharp, and the cuts hurt.
He flopped over onto his side, whining some more. Then he threw up again, although at least this time he did it away from my shoes.
I could hear the liquid dripping down through the gaps in the wood planks. Gross.
He whimpered again.
I pushed open the door, stepped out of my shoes, leaving them outside the door with their badger-vomit coating, andthen, with another sigh, turned back around to heave Elliot inside, as well, kicking the door shut with one foot behind me.
I hauled him to my bathroom, dumping him in the undersized tub, where he squirmed until he managed to flip himself back onto his feet.
“Stay over there,” I told him, gesturing for him to stay on the other side from the faucet. I turned it on low, sticking my fingers under it until the water warmed up. “Okay, shower,” I ordered. “There’s shampoo and soap in here, and I’ll bring you some clothes.” Mine would probably fit him fine.
