Jed
SO, FAMILY dinners. Not exactly Jed’s forte. He’d kind of spent a great many years avoiding them, matter of fact, and now here he was, speeding down the highway toward one that would be populated with wolves and a prissy professor. Some days, he really had to take a step back and look hard at how fucking weird his life had gotten.
“I really do think we should have brought something,” Redford fussed from the passenger seat, beautiful face crumpled into a frown. He pushed his hair back, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, obviously worried, and not just about their lack of a hostess gift. “The etiquette books my grandmother had said you should never show up empty-handed.”
Redford was wearing a dress shirt. It had buttons and a collar, and it was officially the most dressed up Jed had seen Redford in months. Frankly, Jed wasn’t sure where Redford had found the damn thing. Or when he’d found time to iron Jed’s jeans. Who ironed jeans? Wolves who were fretting over leading their first job, that’s who. He’d agonized over clothes, over how he should stand, and Jed could tell he was just looking to be worth the trust people were placing in him. Jed thought it was kind of silly, really. Like Redford was ever anything other than worthy.
“We’re not going for social calls, Red,” Jed pointed out, taking their exit and heading into the countryside. “Trust me, Miss Manners did not anticipate this particular scenario.” He gave Redford a reassuring little smirk, reaching over to find the other man’s hand. “Two mercenaries showing up for dinner isn’t exactly covered in polite society.”
Huffing out a little sigh, Redford allowed, “Maybe.” But his hand tightened on Jed’s, and that simple gesture was all Jed needed to know that everything was right with the whole damn world. Their fingers threaded together, resting on Jed’s knee as he started watching for street signs to find their next turn. “I just want to make a good impression. They’re trusting me with a very important job.”
“Nobody alive would meet you and think anything but that you’re amazing,” Jed told him stubbornly, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. Victor was seated in the backseat, wearing another one of those ridiculous sweater vests. Seriously, did the guy get them on sale? In bulk? Was his mother the secret heiress to a sweater vest factory? “Ain’t that right, princess?”
“Undoubtedly,” Victor replied drolly, taking off his glasses to clean them. He continued, more genuinely, “Try not to fret too much, Redford. Unless you do something truly alarming, I’m sure they’ll be quite happy with you.”
Redford just looked even more worried. His episodes of doing “truly alarming” shit because of his instincts gone wild were less frequent now, but they still happened. The other morning, Jed had been completely unable to leave the bed for two hours after he woke up, because Redford had been feeling a bit too overprotective and growly. Not that Jed minded staying in bed half the day, but the idea that Redford had been so convinced Jed stepping outside would lead to his instant death hadn’t exactly been the grounds for the best mood in the world.
Slumping back in his seat, Redford carefully hooked a light grip in Jed’s sleeve. “They’re wolves,” he murmured. “I’ve never really… you know, socialized with wolves.”
Turning to look at Redford, cutting glances back at the road to make sure they were still on it and not about to hurtle into a tree, Jed reached up to cup Redford’s cheek. “They’re wolves,” he repeated calmly. “If anyone’s going to get Chuckles and Mr. Bitey Pants, it’s them, right? Besides”—Jed grinned then, turning back to his driving before Victor had a heart attack—“who the fuck cares? They’re clients, Red. Remember? In, out, and then we’re on to the beach.”
Simple.
Redford gave him a mystified look. “Who are Chuckles and Mr. Bitey Pants?” He twisted in his seat to glance at Victor, as if he might have brought some uninvited guests along.
Jed just waved his hand in dismissal. “You know. Chuckles is when you decide that chasing the mailman is the height of fun, and Mr. Bitey Pants is when you pin me down and—”
“That’s quite enough information, Journey, if you please.” Jed could practically feel the British Beams of Disapproving Prudeness hitting the back of his head from Victor. “As Jed said, Redford, they are indeed like you. Not exactly, of course, but they will understand your, ah, situation much better than the average human.” A beat and he added mildly, “No offense intended, of course.” It took Jed a moment to realize he’d been insulted. Then again, he wasn’t exactly sure when human had turned into something nobody wanted to be. Victor went on, a bit more upbeat, “They may even be able to help you.”
“Really?” Redford sounded surprised, like he hadn’t thought of that. “I guess. Jed’s been helping me a lot, though, as much as anybody possibly can.” He gave Jed a fond look. “And I’m still seeing Dr. Alona. Even if Jed doesn’t like my head being shrunk.” Another amused look in Jed’s direction. Jed just huffed a neutral little noise. He hadn’t decided yet if he trusted the shrink. “I think he’s human, isn’t he?”
“Ah, well, that’s up for debate,” Victor replied dryly. “I don’t know the man personally, so I couldn’t say for sure.”
Redford appeared to be considering this. He got a little crease between his eyebrows when he was going over something in his mind, and Jed cursed the fact he was stuck being a responsible driver and couldn’t lean over to kiss it away. “He pretty much smells human,” Redford decided. “I think. Even if he’s a bit weird about the name Rufus and has three different animals named that.”
Victor tilted his head in interest. “Out of curiosity, what do I smell like? I’ve never been told.”
“Kind of like what I imagine a snake smells like.” Redford inhaled. “It’s all… scaly? I don’t know how to describe that very well.”
Heh. “Told you your mom was a snake fucker,” Jed said with a smirk, ignoring Victor’s irritated grumble. “Now do me, Fido. What do my manly, human genes smell like?” This could be a fun party game! Kind of like reading palms, only way more prejudiced against bad BO.
“I’ve never told you?” Redford lifted his eyebrows in surprise, leaning across to rest his cheek on Jed’s shoulder. “You smell like pine forests and gunpowder. I like it.”
Lips creasing upward slightly, Jed turned to press a kiss to the top of Redford’s hair. “And manliness,” he prompted. “Pine, gunpowder, and pure, distilled manliness.”
“Yes, that too,” Redford added. “Beer, sweat, and gasoline. Pure manliness.”
“Damn straight.” Jed was smiling, his hand stealing over to find Redford’s again. This was so fucking good. Just this, just the two of them. And yeah, okay, so his life was weird. His life also included moments like this, with the two of them in the car—and Victor, apparently, in the backseat, but hence the aforementioned weirdness—and Jed wasn’t about to trade it for anything more normal. Normal didn’t have Redford in it. Normal could go fuck itself twice.
“I don’t suppose I smell like manliness,” Victor mumbled half to himself, staring out the window. Jed snorted out a laugh, rewarded by the faint smile touching Victor’s lips, the soft crinkle that looked like genuine amusement. What did you know. The princess could crack a joke. At his own expense, even!
“Do tea and books count?” Redford teased lightly. “Those, I think, are very masculine things. David seemed to like them.”
And just like that, the moment broke. The almost smile faded from Victor, Jed’s shoulders tightening, and Redford looked utterly crestfallen at his mistaken mention. They didn’t talk about David, he and Redford. Three months since Cairo and Jed hadn’t found a good time to do so. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think about it too much. A guy he’d almost trusted, a guy who’d gotten as close to Jed as people got, before Redford, and he’d turned out to be… well. Not a regular guy at all.
Yeah. They didn’t talk about David. Victor, Jed assumed, didn’t talk about him for his own set of issues. The same issues that had him showing up yesterday looking like a poster boy for one-night fuck aftermaths.
“Sorry,” Redford said guiltily. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Victor pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, suddenly looking exhausted. “It’s fine,” he said lowly. “Just because things ended between David and I doesn’t mean you can’t mention him ever again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jed said, wrapping his arm around Redford and hauling him in close. He could drive just fine one-handed. “It’s just David. And, for whatever reason, he did get off on tea, books, and nerds. No point in pretending he didn’t exist.”
Not that he wanted to continue that line of conversation, but hell if he was going to let Redford feel bad over it. “Can anyone read these fucking directions?” Jed said, promptly changing the topic, scowling at the slip of paper. “For a giant fucking dweeb, that Randall kid has drunk monkey handwriting.”
“Or doctor’s handwriting,” Victor agreed. “Here, let me look at them.” He reached forward to take the directions and turned the paper around. “It may help if you read it the right way up, for starters.”
Jed just beamed him a wide, shit-eating grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re the only one here who can read nerd. Seriously, I think he just threw that paper in a coop and let them go wild.”
“It really is just regular handwriting, Jed,” Victor corrected, sounding bored. “Right, you’re going to want to turn after the upcoming lake. There will be a dirt road to your left, and we’ll be on that for….” He paused, trailing off as he studied the rest of the writing. “Goodness. Ten miles? Randall wasn’t lying. This is certainly out of the way.”
“I think I saw a horror film that started like this,” Jed pointed out darkly. “Good shit never happens this far from a bar.”
Redford looked like he wasn’t sure if he should be wary. Maybe Jed should stop showing him movies—he’d tried to explain to Redford that movie situations and real-life situations differed greatly, but Redford never quite seemed to grasp that. It wasn’t lack of common sense, Jed knew, it was just from growing up with no socialization and a hell of a lot of books. Redford, Jed was pretty damn sure, was half expecting fairies to come back to life when he clapped. Or at least he had enough faith to think it was possible. Jed, however, wouldn’t believe in Santa if the fat guy built him a chimney, climbed down it, and then gave him a lap dance.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Victor dismissed, leaning his head against the glass to peer up at the trees as they turned down the dirt road into the forest. “I think it’s quite lovely. Very private. I’m sure that the location helped the Lewises immensely, considering.”
“Considering they like to go furry and chomp on cute woodland creatures?” Jed snorted quietly, concentrating on driving slow enough so that they weren’t all bounced around like breasts at a rodeo. “Yeah, I’m guessing they don’t want to be cramped up in a high-rise.”
Redford made an affirmative noise. “With them being the kind of wolves they are, it’d be nice for them to have a lot of forest that they can run around in.” He hesitated, frowning a little. “Not that I could do something like that. I’m still not really in control.”
“Well, that would be even better for you,” Victor pointed out. “If you lost control here, there’s not exactly any neighbors you could traumatize.”
Jed had never been much of a dog person. His parents had one, back when he was a kid, but he’d never bonded with it. Had never seen the point of running around outside chasing a stick or whatever. Jed liked cats. He liked how little they demanded, how Knievel would go from desperate for affection to barely remembering he existed in a swing of her tail. When Jed had felt the need to run, it hadn’t been through the goddamn woods. It’d been a new life, a bigger city. It’d been forgetting who he was and hiding in the masses.
When Jed thought of freedom, it was in the way he could sleep ’til noon whenever he fucking wanted. How he’d never, not once, had another lima bean since he’d sat all night staring at his plate, refusing to touch his mother’s cooking. How he could take the jobs he wanted, leave the ones he didn’t. How he had money in the bank and the man he loved next to him and nobody said fuck all about either. Or if they did, Jed didn’t have to stay and listen.
It was how he felt good in his own skin most of the time. How his ass fit perfectly in his couch, how he had weapons at his fingertips and he knew full well he could survive just about anything that got thrown at him. Because he had before.
When he was home, it was with a roof and windows and buildings in close. He liked the noise of traffic to sing him to sleep. And he’d never, not once, considered the fact that Redford—or, more specifically, Redford’s instincts—might not feel the same way.
But as they drove, as the dappled sunlight flashed over Redford’s face, the trees bending gracefully above them, it was like seeing a glimpse of that something more that seemed buried away in Redford. Being out in the woods was exactly what someone like Redford needed. Not a cage, not a basement hidden under lock and key and chain. Not a tiny apartment, four walls, a roof, and no room to run. Redford still hid himself away every full moon when he had no choice about turning, still looked to that cage. To both cages, really, because Jed suddenly couldn’t think of so many differences between a bitter old woman’s bars and his apartment. None of it was fresh air. None of it was dirt under Redford’s feet and a chance to actually be.
Fuck.
“Yeah, well, the woods doesn’t have a hot dog cart on the corner,” he pointed out with a sudden manic grin, gripping the wheel tighter. He wasn’t going to look over at Redford, at the way the dappled sunlight through the leaves was lighting up his whole expression. Wolves in cages were just a fucking sad thing to contemplate. Wasn’t that what he’d been trying to save Redford from all this goddamn time?
“I do like the hot dog cart,” Redford agreed. “Jed brings me a whole pack of hot dogs on full moons,” he said to Victor, grinning. “I think I’ve gained five pounds.”
Hot dogs, like that was somehow better than being free, and fuck, Jed needed to stop thinking about this right the hell now. It wasn’t doing anyone any good. They were here for a job, to meet the fur balls and get the details of what they needed to do to get paid. Any other random thoughts could be shoved aside until later. That was what insomnia was for.
The drive curved, and all at once they were in a clearing, a low-slung log cabin in between two tall pine trees. Jed parked in front, vaguely surprised to see a sandy-blond-furred wolflike dog curled up on the porch, tail over its nose. When they piled out of the car, the dog raised its head and chuffed at them, trotting over with tail wagging to head-butt all of their legs. It wound up next to Redford, looking up at him with a happy doggy grin, tongue lolling out.
Redford stared back in mute anxiety.
Jed immediately dropped down beside him, grinning, scratching behind its ears. Hell, he might not be a dog person, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a good petting. And he’d gotten way better at this since Redford. Apparently even growly wolves liked cuddles. “Who’s a fluffy puppy?” he crooned, rewarded when the dog immediately flopped onto its side, showing its belly as it wiggled ecstatically under Jed’s attentions. “Who is a furry, fluffy big boy?”
“That would be Edwin.” The dry, faintly exasperated voice came from the doorway, Randall stepping outside with a worn flannel robe in his hand. “Who knows better. Ed, come on, you know the rules.”
The dog—no, wolf—underneath his hands gave a forlorn sounding yip and nudged Jed’s hand with his nose a final time. He shifted, and then instead of fur, there was skin, a blond mop of hair, and a broad grin staring up at Jed.
“Son of a bitch!” Shocked, Jed sat back on his heels while the kid—who wasn’t a kid and who was definitely naked—stood, and trotted up to where Randall was standing. Edwin shrugged on the robe and wrinkled his nose at Randall.
“You’re such a stick-in-the-mud,” he declared.
“Edwin is my younger brother,” Randall explained, arching his eyebrow at Edwin and looking completely unaffected by Edwin’s assessment of him. “And he apologizes for going wolf on you.”
“No, he does not,” Edwin replied, arms folded, all sun-kissed skin and long limbs, defiant and proud. “We’re wolves, Randall. I’m not going to apologize to a bunch of two-legs about that.”
Randall sighed. “Fine. Go see if Anthony needs help, would you, Ed?” As his brother scrambled inside, he called after Edwin, “And put some pants on, please!”
When the door shut behind Edwin, Randall came down the steps, offering his hand to Redford. “I’ll apologize then, if Ed won’t,” he said quietly, gaze touching on each of them before finding Victor’s. “Anthony taught us not to shift around people. It’s common courtesy that Edwin sometimes chooses to forget.”
There were rules for that kind of shit? Jed was just left to stand up again, staring, baffled, cutting little glances over at Redford. Sure, he’d known they were going to a little wolf family. The reality of it was slightly different. Redford had always seemed, to Jed, like a guy who just happened to go furry. Randall, though, and Edwin even more so, struck him as wolves who sometimes walked around like people. It was something in their eyes, in how they stood, in the way they carried themselves.
Around Redford, Jed felt like he was the traditionally normal one, the one who was altogether human. He’d never seen a full moon as anything other than too much light for wet work before Redford, where Redford lived in fear of the goddamn thing. But now, standing there, Jed realized all at once he was the odd one out. He was the one who didn’t fit in.
Seemingly bereft of words, Redford took Randall’s hand to shake it. Victor did the same. “You have a lovely house,” Victor complimented. “Did you or your parents build it themselves?”
“I did.” A man wearing an apron and a cooking glove stepped out of the front door. “Anthony,” he introduced himself, giving them a bright grin in greeting. “Let me guess, the one who smells like gunpowder is Jed, the wolf is Redford, and the other guy who looks like Randall’s wet dream is Victor.”
Jed choked out a laugh, a broad smirk tripping across his face. Randall immediately turned bright red, giving his brother a positively mortified, wide-eyed stare, and Victor turned much the same color. “I like you,” Jed declared, holding out his hand for Anthony to shake. “Right on all counts, although I’m not sure the princess could really wet any panties.”
Instead of the handshake he’d been expecting, Jed found himself engulfed in a floury hug. Anthony then did the same to Redford, who looked stunned. Jed was still watching Anthony, shocked, hands instinctively going to make sure his wallet and his gun were still in place. The last time he’d gotten an unsolicited hug, his pockets had been picked cleaner than Tom Cruise’s straight genes.
“Well, you’re all welcome to treat this house as your own,” Anthony said. “Randall has told me everything, and trust me when I say that all three of us are damn thankful you want to help.”
Victor looked startled when Anthony grabbed him in a hug too. “He told me about Cairo,” Anthony continued, looking between them, his expression turning serious. “I can’t thank you enough. You three are the reason that he’s alive, and for that, I’m more grateful than I can tell you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t try,” Jed said gruffly, shoulders rounded, hands in his pockets. “Seriously. We did a job, we got paid, your brother was just one of the lucky ones. No gratitude necessary.”
Redford looked uncertain. “Are you the alpha?” he asked Anthony, obviously trying to put as much confidence in his voice as he could.
“Am I the what?” Anthony’s nose wrinkled in confusion. As he took in Redford’s shrinking posture, though, he seemed to connect the dots, a faint smile touching his lips. “We don’t really use that terminology,” he corrected gently, like a parent nudging a toddler on simple manners. “I’m the oldest. I’m sure Randall can explain it to you much more academically if you want an explanation of pack dynamics, but I won’t be ripping your throats out for stepping on my territory.” He almost looked amused at the thought.
Randall had disappeared inside the house. Jed was betting he was hiding from Victor. Which was just damn funny, really. “Someone promised us food?” he asked, clapping Anthony on the shoulder as they walked toward the house. “And then we can talk details. Redford will be taking point on this job, but I’m here as a consultant. Victor’s here because he’s tired of eating those little frozen meals alone and crying in front of his TV.” Jed looked over his shoulder, giving Victor a wide, innocent grin. “What was that show you liked so much, princess? The Everyone Hug and Dance and Sing and Twirl Fairy Story?”
“Yes, that sounds about right,” Victor said wryly. “I do love that show.”
“I’m making rabbit stew,” Anthony announced. “Don’t worry. It’s not from the supermarket either.”
“So, you guys hunt and all that shit?” Jed was interested, his hand going, like always, to find Redford’s. “Like, on all fours? Or do you do it the old-fashioned way?”
“Wolf hunting predates modern humans by a few years at least,” Randall pointed out dryly as he emerged from the dining room. “Even if you count the point where your ancestors were running around with blunt sticks, hoping they could find something slow enough for them to catch. So I’d say our way was the old-fashioned manner.”
The place wasn’t huge on the inside, but it was neat. Well, neat by Jed’s standards, which meant it wasn’t on fire. None of the surfaces had anything growing on them, so in his opinion the Lewises were right up there with Martha Stewart and his mom. It was obviously rustic, the axe marks visible on some of the roughly hewn walls. There was also a television and a record player in one corner, along with shelf after shelf jammed with books. It was lived-in and cozy, and Jed liked it, from the soft rug slung out in front of the fire to the dining table set with sturdy blue plates.
“We make sure that we don’t overhunt, of course,” Anthony was saying, making his way back into the kitchen. He gave Edwin’s hair a fond ruffle as he joined him at the counter. “Does it need anything else, Ed?”
Edwin, dressed now, thank God, took another taste from the stew pot. “Nah, it’s perfect,” he said, giving his brother a wide-open grin, nudging his shoulder against Anthony’s. Edwin didn’t have a trace of guile in his expression, nothing hiding or held back. He just was, this kid who looked to be all of twenty, broad shouldered and so goddamn alive. He looked like Redford did sometimes, when Jed did something good enough to shake off the years of care and worry and fear for him, when Redford stopped hiding behind the ghost of an old woman and his own scars.
“Good.” Anthony nodded. “Make yourselves at home, please, get comfortable. Do you want anything to drink? We’ve got water, beer, tea, and coffee. I’m sure we have juice in here somewhere.”
Redford picked out a seat close to the roaring fire, the tense expression slowly leaving him. “I’d love an orange juice,” he ventured.
“Let me get that, Ant,” Randall said, immediately going to the stove and putting a coffeepot on. Jed was brought a beer, and he nodded his thanks to Randall as the man went out to hand Redford his juice. “Why don’t you sit? I’ve set the table. Edwin and I can take care of the rest.”
Jed watched Anthony carefully. Up until that moment, no one would think the guy was sick. He was bustling about, equal parts wolfish and strong, still wearing that goddamn apron. In a flannel shirt and equally worn jeans, he looked like the grinning love child of Martha Stewart and a lumberjack, messy brown hair and bright-blue eyes, dark stubble lining his jaw. But right there, when he reluctantly handed off the pot of stew to Randall, Jed saw his left hand shake. Anthony frowned, quickly curling the trembling hand into a fist, and stuffed it in his pocket to hide it.
Under the smiles, under the easy warmth, Jed saw the tension. This whole family was holding their breaths, desperate and hopeful and terrified. And they were making them dinner. Instead of pushing for their help right the hell now, instead of demanding, they were setting out plates, Edwin cutting up bread, Randall finding the butter. It was a family here, but more than that, it was one that wasn’t afraid to let them in. Maybe that was just because of what they wanted from Redford, but shit, the stew smelled good and he had a cold beer. Jed wasn’t going to complain about ulterior motives.
Redford tugged Jed down to sit next to him on the wide couch, nudging his side with an elbow. He looked at Jed, then tilted his head toward Anthony, silently asking if Jed had noticed. Letting out a slow breath, Jed wrapped his arm around Redford and nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he went back to watching the brothers. “Yeah,” he murmured lowly. “Yeah, I know.”
“You’re a wolf.” Edwin had appeared at Redford’s side, easy grin as messy across his face as the faint freckles and the wild tangle of blond hair. “I mean, you’re a wolf like us. I can smell it.” Leaning in, he took a deep breath as if to confirm. “Nice to meet you.”
“I—I’m not really like you. Sorry.” Redford had leaned backward slightly from being sniffed. “I used to be a werewolf. Now I’m somewhere in between.”
Cocking his head, Edwin studied him. It was the longest Jed had seen him be still yet, those pale-blue eyes tracking across Redford’s face. Then he shrugged, tapping the side of his nose. “Yeah, well, I can smell you. And you’re near enough to a wolf to count. Come on.” He held out his hand. “Dinner’s ready, and Ant’s stew is legendary.”
Anthony gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, a legend in this household.”
“It smells amazing,” Victor piped up, eagerly migrating toward the table. “Thank you, once again, for all this. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in quite some time.”
As much as Jed gave the guy a hard time, he had to kind of feel for Victor. Not a lot, but he knew what it was like to think “homemade” meant the instant noodles you’d heated up using the coffeepot because your microwave had something stuck to the inside that smelled like death. Or maybe that was just him. In any case, Jed knew he was damn lucky to have Redford, and Victor…. Well, even with David, he hadn’t been lucky like that. Most people weren’t.
“You’re always welcome here,” Randall ventured, though his head was bowed over the bowls as he ladled up the stew. “I mean, we take turns cooking, and there’s usually something edible around.” His gaze cut over to Victor quickly, before he determinedly looked away again. “After all, I owe you quite a bit more than a simple dinner.”
“Oh no, you don’t owe me anything,” Victor replied, looking startled but pleased at the offer of further dinners. “You have Jed to thank for your rescue in Cairo and Redford for helping here. I’m merely tagging along, though I do hope to be helpful.”
“Jed and Redford are more than happy to accept dinner in trade for lifesaving.” Jed waved Randall off. “In fact, if you get me another beer, I’ll say we’re even.” He’d rather have a simple meal than a bunch of thanks he didn’t know what to do with, any day.
They took their seats. Jed held out Redford’s for him and claimed the chair next to him. Edwin easily took the bowl from Anthony, almost seeming as though the gesture meant nothing. He and Randall got Anthony’s food ready, filled up his glass, all without missing a beat or appearing like they were even deliberately helping him. It was a choreographed dance between people who didn’t want to acknowledge why they were doing what they did.
Anthony took a few moments to encourage everybody to put more on their plates than what was really necessary, making sure they had enough to drink, fussing over bread. Jed noticed that he subtly switched out his bread plate for Edwin’s, giving the larger slice to his brother. He did much the same thing with his bowl of stew and Victor’s, like it was ingrained in him to make sure everyone else had enough before he let himself relax into his own place.
“Well, before we get started,” Victor said, lifting his glass, “may I propose a toast? To working together, and to hopefully finding a solution.” His gaze went to Randall, a reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “With Jed and Redford on your side, I’ve no doubt they’ll find a way.”
Jed laid his hand over his heart as he raised his beer. “Was that a vote of confidence? Professor, I’m touched.” He mimed wiping away tears, sniffing loudly. “God, and I didn’t get you anything. Red, remind me to stop at the pocket protector store on the way home. Victor deserves something pretty.”
Victor looked thoroughly unamused. “As an addendum,” he continued, as if unaware that Jed had spoken, “I apologize for any explosion, property destruction, or loss of limbs. All three regularly happen in Jed’s vicinity.”
At that, Jed laughed genuinely, leaning over the table to clink his bottle against Victor’s glass. “Now that I’ll drink to,” he said, giving the man a grin. “And to the professor. If we play our cards right, he might just use that big brain of his for good instead of putting me to sleep.”
“Cheers,” Randall said with a sideways little smile, raising his glass. Everyone else followed suit, and they settled down to eat.
The rabbit stew was fucking fantastic. Jed had eaten some weird shit in his life—once, while embedded in Cambodia, he’d eaten roaches the size of his fist off of where they were crawling all over him after his rations ran out—but this was less well, it’s eating this or my own foot and more just plain delicious. “Goddamn, this is great,” he enthused, reaching for a second helping, sopping up the last drops in his bowl with the bread. “Seriously, holy shit.”
Beside him, Redford gave a low laugh and nudged Jed in the side. Yeah, okay, Jed was well aware that he said the same thing every time Redford cooked. But come on, they’d taken a bunch of nothing, and now it was something way better than frozen chicken patties. That was like a form of magic in Jed’s book. Forget water to wine, this shit was the real miracle. Besides, he was more of a beer guy anyway, and no holy son of God had ever made a decent brew.
“I suppose we may as well get down to business,” Anthony said, leaning back in his chair as Edwin reached over in front of him for more bread. “The first thing we’ll have to do is find the Gray Lady’s pack.”
“Which might be easier said than done,” Randall said, offering Victor more stew with a hopeful little look, which Victor returned by happily handing his bowl over. “We’re going to need to find a place where people will be willing to talk about such things.”
“And where would that be?” Redford piped up. “Do you know of any places like that, Jed?”
“Oh, yeah, me and the Easter Bunny were hanging out just last weekend.” Jed snorted quietly, giving Redford an apologetic wince. “I’m kind of thinking my contacts are going to be about as worthless as tits at a bathhouse.”
“You could go to Murry’s Bar,” Edwin offered, stealing the spoon from Jed to dish himself up yet more stew. “There’s always a bunch of naturals hanging around there.” Catching Anthony’s look, Edwin immediately tried for an innocent expression. “Not that I’ve ever been there! I just heard. You know, from other people.”
“Naturals?” Bewildered, Jed frowned around at the rest of the group. “What the hell does that mean?”
Randall sighed, slipping off his glasses to clean them on a corner of his shirt. “It’s a rather crude slang expression that ought not to be used. It means other than human. The supernatural community, if you will, though generally we don’t have a universal name for the differing groups of us. Those that use the term natural are arguing that we are the normal ones. It’s humans that should be considered others.”
“Supernatural….” Jed trailed off, eyebrows raised. This was a fucking weird conversation. He was half expecting someone to come out with a herald and a trumpet and hand him the Sword of Destiny or some shit.
“Werewolves, vampires, half bloods,” Anthony clarified, giving Edwin another suspicious look. “And who exactly did you hear this from?”
“Oh, you know,” Edwin said, carefully not meeting Anthony’s eyes. “Just around. Hey, you should totally go!” He changed the topic swiftly, turning to look at Redford. “You’d definitely get in. They just have a couple of wolves at the door that sniff you to make sure you’re not a preter or anything.”
“Edwin,” Randall barked sharply, eyes narrowing. But instead of continuing, he just looked to Anthony, as if awaiting his mediation.
Jed and Redford shared twin looks of utter confusion. “Preter?” Jed asked. “Maybe slow down the crazy talk around the uninitiated. What the hell is that?” It sounded like a slur against penises.
“It’s more slang.” Anthony smacked Edwin on the shoulder as a rebuke. “Only this time it’s pretty rude. Preternatural is what some call regular humans. You know, other than natural. It’s not something any of us should be saying, not in this household. Edwin, seriously, we have a human sitting right here at the table. Can you curb the racial insults?”
“And it’s less than polite in mixed company, even if you choose to use it in private,” Randall muttered, shaking his head.
Jed shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Hey, I’m just…. I mean, come on, I’m not different.”
Except yes, he was. He was wildly different. He was part of a whole different race, and apparently all the things that went bump in the night got together and voted him out of the clubhouse.
Jed sagged back in his chair. Edwin looked abashed, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” but Jed waved it off.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I scratched your ears and saw your ass. In some cultures, we’d be married.”
Anthony just shook his head. “In any case, Edwin’s suggestion was a good one. If anybody’s going to know where the Gray Lady’s pack is, we might find them in there. Although I think he and I should have a discussion about the people he hangs out with.”
“I’ll go,” Redford said. “You said that she’s looking for the remains of Filtiarn’s pack. If anybody has information, they’ll know she’s looking for people like me.” He hesitated, eyes darting over at Jed. “But, um. I guess Jed can’t go?”
“Fuck that nun, I’m going,” Jed said, arms folded, jaw jutted out stubbornly. “You go, I go, babe. That’s how this works. We’re partners, remember?” And like hell was Jed letting Redford walk in anywhere he hadn’t vetted first. God only knew what kind of shit might go down, and Jed wasn’t going to leave him without someone to watch his back. And his front. And all side portions of him.
“I want you to be there, but if this is a bar where wolves and vampires and everybody else hang out, it might not be… well, Edwin says they sniff out humans.” Redford looked apologetic. “You might not even get past the front door.”
“He could go if he’s escorted,” Edwin said, sighing heavily at the looks his brothers gave him. “I didn’t say I agreed with that option. I’m just saying, sometimes naturals bring their preter in. They have to be under control and stuff. I even think they use leashes sometimes. The vampires at least.” A pause, and then, very unconvincingly, “So I’ve heard from people who I have no real association with.”
“Edwin, how do you know this?” Anthony looked appalled. “Please don’t tell me you’ve ever done that.”
“Ew, no.” Edwin wrinkled his nose. “Collars are gross. I just… have friends who told me.” His voice went up at the end, an overly innocent look affected, as if that was going to make Anthony stop pinning him to the chair with an expression that brought to mind a patient bulldog.
“Which friends?” Randall said dryly. “I wasn’t aware that your reflection counted.”
“Shut up. I have friends.” Edwin rolled his eyes at Randall. But, fidgeting guiltily under Anthony’s glower, Edwin finally sighed and admitted, “I went last week to hear someone speak at Murry’s. It was a lecture. Educational, even!”
“Who would you hear speak at that place?” Anthony folded his arms. “It’s a bar, Ed.”
“A guy called Phoenix.” Once again Edwin tried for the guileless uptick of his tone at the end before apparently giving in and simply shrugging. “He’s doing all these rallies around lately. I saw a poster for it and went to check it out. He talks a lot about preters… um, humans and their relationships to naturals. Um. Us.”
“You and I are going to have a very long talk later,” Anthony threatened. He looked apologetic as he turned back to Jed and Redford. “Would you be okay going there? It sounds like there might be information to be found.”
Jed smirked. “Nah, that sounds like just my kind of scene. Count me in. I’ll provide my own leather pants.”
“What? No, we’re not doing that,” Redford yelped, horrified. “I am not putting you on a leash or anything. That’s degrading.”
Reaching out, Jed took his hand, holding it between both of his. “It’s a cover, Fido,” he reminded Redford. “I’m just there to back you up. A collar’s an accessory, is all.” He grinned, a flash of amusement crossing his face. “Not the first time I’ve worn one.” Though probably in this instance he wouldn’t be calling anyone Daddy.
Redford was still clearly not happy with the idea, but not protesting in horror anymore. “I just don’t like the thought of you in a stupid collar,” he muttered.
Jed’s smile faltered.
The cage. The goddamn basement. And here Jed was throwing that shit around like Redford wasn’t still that scared kid, tied up and thrown away by the one person who was supposed to take care of him.
His whole face crumpling in guilt, Jed wondered if he could beat his head against the wall. Probably would be rude to do that to someone else’s walls, and God knew his thick skull would break something. Goddamn, he was so stupid it was a wonder he kept breathing without hurting himself somehow. Immediately, Jed gathered Redford into his arms, kissing his shoulder in penance. “It’s not going to be like that,” he murmured. “No collar. No leash. Not if you don’t want it, not for either of us. I’ll just go and let you do the talking.” Jed tried for a little smile, not quite making it. “I can be real quiet. Subtle, even. Like a mouse.”
That, at least, made Redford smile. “No, you really can’t.”
“I wasn’t aware mice used such copious amounts of explosives,” Victor hummed, peering over the tops of his glasses. “How unusual.”
“Fuck you all,” Jed responded, but more cheerfully, only really caring that he’d pulled a smile from Redford. Turning to the Lewises, he nodded. “We’ll get the info and then give you a call.” Jed hesitated, glancing over at Redford. “And….” Fuck. Being second in command after all this time alone was not the easiest thing in the world. Popping up out of his chair, Jed bustled about, clearing dishes. “Redford, why don’t you talk details or whatever you need. It’s your job. I’m just here as a silent and extremely good-looking shadow.”
Jed made his way into the kitchen after loading himself up with bowls and cups and spoons. He poked around a little, once he’d filled up the dishwasher. The fridge was decently stocked, as was the pantry. Nothing fancy, lots of meat, most of it looking like the butchered pieces of things they’d caught. Jed wanted to give Redford some space, the chance to do things his own way. The guy was more than capable of handling everything, really. Jed just wanted to give him a chance to realize that.
Redford and the Lewises got down to talking, the sounds of the conversation washing over Jed as he looked around the kitchen. A few minutes later, Redford sidled up to him. “Jed,” he whispered urgently, “How much is gas right now? I need to know for the budget.”
After a moment, Jed huffed out a little laugh, taking Redford by the shoulders and tugging him in, kissing his forehead, the bridge of his nose. “Nervous?” he murmured, ignoring the question for a moment in favor of massaging the tense knots he could feel in Redford’s neck.
“Very,” Redford admitted. “I don’t know how you do this. There’s so much to think about, and I can’t keep any of it straight in my head.”
“Sure you can,” Jed responded. He kissed said head again before wrapping his arms around Redford. They fit together so goddamn well. It still amazed Jed sometimes. “Remember the Southfield job two weeks ago? Instead of just charging gas money, you charged mileage. That way it paid for the wear and tear on the vehicles too.” Although Jed’s version of wear and tear was slightly different than other people’s. Removing some stains from upholstery was apparently more expensive than just ripping the seats out and starting over. “Just use that amount and charge them per mile.”
He pulled back just enough to study Redford’s face, fingertips brushing along the man’s cheek. “You can do this,” he repeated, absolute conviction in his voice. “You’re brilliant, and you’re damn good at the planning part of things. Just take a deep breath and do what you do best.” He smiled at Redford, and he could feel the expression mostly in the corners of his eyes, in the softness of his gaze. “Use that beautiful big brain of yours.”
Redford, as suggested, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. At the end of it, he leaned in to kiss Jed, resting against him for a moment. “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “I can do this.”
“Damn straight.” Jed smirked a little, tugging gently on a strand of Redford’s hair. “I only have the best for my partner.” He softly nudged Redford back toward the dining room. “Now go in there and be amazing.”
“You make it sound like you auditioned for a partner,” Redford huffed, amused.
“Kinda did.” Jed wasn’t good at the big, grand declarations. He’d never been one for genuine emotion. But he met Redford’s eyes steadily, for once not hiding behind a manic grin or a cocky smirk. He just was, he was just Jed, and Redford got to see all of him. The only person who ever really had. “Waited my whole damn life for you, didn’t I?”
Instead of replying right away, Redford just tugged Jed into a tight embrace. “Me too,” he said. “Now are you going to come back out to the table with me? We’re partners, and I want you there.”
Their hands slipped together, just like that, and Redford led the way back out to the table. He sat down with a notepad and a pen, going over numbers and paperwork he’d draft up for the Lewises to sign, contingency fees, and even the damn mileage. He handled it all, grasping Jed’s hand the whole time, and Jed was sure his heart was just going to balloon up and burst for how much pride he felt, how much he adored seeing Redford comfortable in his own skin.
Anthony gave them a plastic container filled with leftover stew. Edwin darted around them, still on two legs but moving every bit like the wolf, seeing them out to their car, making Redford promise he’d come back. Randall was more subdued, but he went out to say good-bye as well, hovering behind Victor, opening his car door for him with a slight, shy smile.
“Thank you for coming,” Randall said. To all of them, but really just to Victor. “It was….” He breathed out a little laugh. “Interesting.”
“It was my pleasure,” Victor replied. He took Randall’s hand in a brief shake. Jed rolled his eyes when he saw Randall’s expression brighten at the contact. How Victor could be that oblivious and still keep breathing, he just didn’t know. Maybe not being able to look into people’s eyes made him miss the most obvious things in the world.
“We’ll call you as soon as we have a location,” Redford promised. “Hopefully tomorrow.”
Jed felt a little like the goddamn Waltons, driving away from the Lewises as the three brothers stood on their porch and watched them go. Any second now, someone was going to say Good night, John-Boy and he’d die of some kind of diabetic coma from all the domesticity.
At least they had a job. And as soon as it was done, they could leave the Little Wolves on the Prairie to their knitting or whatever the fuck and get back to real life.