He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or body. Or mouth.
Get out. Keep walking. You’ve sufficiently shit all over this for one day. Retreat.
Cooper turned to go, but stopped one last time, just before leaving the room. “Sorry, last thing and then I promise to stop bothering you. I—I love you. And... Well, that’s it, I guess.” He winced at himself, cursing every song, poem and decorative pillow that had ever told him love was all you need, and quietly closed the door.
Clearly Park needed more, whether he realized it yet or not. Cooper just hoped he could figure out how to be that more while he still had the chance.
* * *
This was not something he could fix. Cooper put the bag of trash he was taking out on the ground and stared up at the ripped-up mess of his window AC from the alley below. The bottom of the unit was hanging down, as if it had caught on something and been yanked out of place, revealing the dark interior.
Cooper would put his money on raccoons, though he’d seen squirrels accomplish some wildly destructive feats in his life when they were determined enough. Why any creature, raccoon, squirrel or otherwise, would be determined to sabotage Cooper’s health and happiness with heat stroke was unclear. It was all secondary to the fact that repairing the damn thing was way out of his wheelhouse. Hell, what wasn’t? Cooper’s wheelhouse was feeling increasingly small and sparse today.
There was no way he was going to be able to get someone in to fix the AC tonight, or even before they left for North Carolina, at this rate. He was glad Ava had agreed to take Boogie over to her apartment for the week. She was dependable and nearly always up for quality time with Boogie. Who was going to cat sit for him if he was living across town?
Cooper frowned, shoving the thought away. If he said he didn’t want to move because he’d need a new cat sitter, Park really would believe he was just making up excuses in order to get out of living together. And that wasn’t true. It wasn’t.
He backed down the alley trying to get a better look at the damaged AC. There was a rustling from behind the dumpster. Cooper spun and his hand automatically went to his waist, finding nothing but the waistband of his gym shorts. Of course he wasn’t armed, standing outside his own window at nine o’clock at night. He didn’t even have reason to draw a weapon yet. Because a sound had spooked him?
The lights of the apartment windows created dramatically dark shadows where the dumpsters loomed, and Cooper had to squint to see. “Hello?”
There was no answer. But Cooper was sure there was someone there. He felt the familiar prickle tighten his skin as an awareness of being watched lit up his hindbrain. “I know you’re there.”
Nothing.
Cooper took a determined step forward and another panicked rustle preceded the appearance and prompt disappearance of a squirrel leaping out of the dumpster and down the alley, back into inky shadows. He exhaled a little shakily. Besides his thundering heartbeat, the alley was especially quiet.
He readjusted his grip on the trash bag and walked hesitantly up to the dumpster. The darkness seemed to hold its breath. Tensing, Cooper inched forward and peered inside.
Just trash. Cooper rolled his eyes at himself and tossed the bag in. Ridiculous.
On his way back through the lobby, he grabbed his mail and absently flicked through it, walking upstairs and into the apartment. How did the entire world suddenly know he was looking to move? Menus, real estate flyers, coupons, real estate flyers, some kind of campaign literature for a small local election, real esta—a neat little postcard nearly slipped out of his hand. Cooper flipped it over. Typed on the back in the center was a short missive: Can’t wait to see you!
To the right was his address, apartment number, but no name. Nothing personal at all. Where his name would be just said Resident of. It looked like more junk mail, some kind of advertisement. Come on down to Bob’s, we can’t wait to see you!
An advertisement for what, exactly, was unclear, Cooper thought, examining the image on the front more closely. It was a brick building with large arches and a terracotta roof. In front of it was a cement semicircular bench and a bronze sculpture of...something. A long, shapeless sort of thing. It looked vaguely familiar, but Cooper couldn’t quite place it.
He walked back into his apartment, tossing the rest of the mail onto the counter, and held the card up closer to his face. Squinting, he could see the sculpture was some sort of animal with a long, pointed nose and on the brick building were black letters: Small Mammal House.
Cooper abruptly recognized the zoo here in DC. He hadn’t been since he was a teenager. Were they that desperate for visitors they were sending out ads? He studied the back of the postcard again.
Can’t wait to see you!
“Oh, hi, Mr. Dayton.”
Cooper looked up slowly, confused, and blinked at Ava standing in his bedroom doorway, arms full of a floppy and blissfully content Boogie, who looked nothing like the anguished animal that had spent the last thirty minutes furious at being separated from her fascinating friend and yowling her list of betrayals not to be forgotten nor forgiven.
“Ava?” Cooper said, brain catching up to what he was seeing. “What are you... Did you just get here?” Alarmed, he looked over her shoulder into the bedroom for Park. How was he supposed to explain an enormous wolf in his bedroom? Do you have a two-for-one pet-sitting discount?
“Yes.” She followed the path of his gaze. “The door was open, so I thought you were home. But then I heard a bunch of, like, books or something falling in the bedroom. I was worried Boogie was in there and knocked over your bad bookshelf again and hurt herself.”
“Oh.” Cooper swallowed, and his suddenly dry throat clicked. “And? Did you see anything...weird?”
Ava gave him an odd look. “There was nothing on the floor. Then Mr. Park said he was having a bath and I could just take Boogie.”
“Oliver said that? With his voice?” Cooper said, then felt absurd.
“Um—” She shifted her weight, clearly growing increasingly weirded out by Cooper’s behavior. “Well, he said I could take the cat, but yeah...?”
“Right. Of course you can take Boogie. I appreciate it. As always.”
Ava visibly relaxed and Cooper steeled himself from looking in the direction of the bedroom again as he helped her gather up Boogie’s essentials and carry them back to her apartment down the hall, which was a much more colorful and homey replica of Cooper’s. He pulled out Ava’s usual weekly fee in cash out of his wallet and then, after a moment’s consideration, added two more twenties. “Thanks again for this. I’ll text you when we’re heading back.”
Ava took the money, observing the extra bills. “I really didn’t see anything in your bedroom, Mr. Dayton,” she said seriously.
Cooper laughed, startled. “I know. I just—” Felt financially impotent today? Already missed having a neighbor like Ava who loved his cat as much as he did? He’d grown fond of her, but without the cat-sitting to connect them, he could hardly stay in touch with a child.
Cooper felt that familiar flutter of panic and shoved it away. “I know it’s more of a hassle, having Boogs here than at my place. Text me if she can’t handle the change and I’ll see if I can get the AC repaired.”
“Miss Boot Scoot is not a wuss, Mr. Dayton,” Ava said indignantly. “She’s not gonna freak out over a little change.”
Well, whoopee for Boogie, Cooper thought. After saying goodbye, he returned to his own apartment and headed straight through the bedroom. The bathroom door was left partially open, and Cooper knocked and waited for Park’s okay.
Park was reclining in the tub with his eyes closed, as submerged in water as he could get, which wasn’t very. His muscular legs were propped almost all the way up the wall and his broad shoulders were awkwardly crammed against the ledge on the other end.
“If we lived in that palace we saw t
his afternoon, it would have taken me ten minutes to find you,” Cooper said cautiously, examining him, hyperalert for a sign, any sign, that would tell him whether or not Park wanted to talk about what had happened before.
Park didn’t open his eyes. “If we lived in that palace I wouldn’t have to bleach hundred-year-old bloodstains out of the grout before taking a bath.”
“Hey,” Cooper said, walking into the bathroom and sitting on the closed toilet. “I was building a case with those bloodstains.”
“The case to condemn the building? I think you already have plenty to go to trial. Point one, the center of the sun is not a residential zone.”
Cooper bit his tongue. He’d made fun of this shitty apartment for years. He didn’t know why now all of a sudden he was so determined to defend it. The bathroom was old and gross.
And seeing Park’s relaxed, beautiful body in it made him want to lock them both in here together to stay until the building itself came down around them.
He changed the subject. “Sorry about Ava. I’m assuming from the lack of panicking, she didn’t come in here when you were...alternately formed.” Cooper dipped his fingers into the tub and found the water predictably cold. “Were you really in the bath?”
Park managed to raise an eyebrow while keeping his eyes closed. “Do I look like the sort of man who goes around lying to little girls? Just what kind of Grimms’ Fairy Tales wolf do you take me for?”
“The one with soap in his hair.”
Park leaned forward, turned the tap on and dunked his head under, scrubbing at the shampoo. When he turned it off and lay back down, a couple suds still clung to his ear. Cooper stared, transfixed by that spot. Suddenly, somehow, he felt even more flushed with heat and a prickle of sweat broke out at his hairline. He swiped at it distractedly.
“The AC is wrecked. Looks like something ripped into it.”
Park grunted. “Thank god for that fresh mountain air.”
Cooper opened his mouth. Closed it. Considered. “When I was in the alley taking the trash out, I thought someone was watching me. But it was a squirrel.” He rolled his eyes at himself and immediately regretted mentioning it. He forced a laugh. “Who says your conversations take a turn for the boring when you move in together? Not us, baby!”
Park’s eyes had slid open. Warm amaretto looking at him with familiar focused attentiveness. “Do you want me to go downstairs and check it out?”
“No, of course not.”
“Do you want to report it?”
“To who? Wildlife Control?”
“To whom,” Park murmured, automatically.
“I asked you first,” Cooper said, and flicked a little water toward Park’s chest. It felt nice and cool on his fingers, and he kept his hand submerged, letting it drift, bumping against Park’s thigh. “No, I don’t want to report it. It was nothing. I’m just telling you now so that when we sleep with all the windows open and I’m murdered in the night, my last words can be I told you so.”
Park grinned, closed his eyes and stretched lazily in the water. “Good ol’ Dayton. He died as he lived. A complete prick.”
Cooper took the opportunity to stare at Park’s body unobserved. His thick arms and firmly muscled torso and myriad of faded scars looked intimidating, dangerous. His sleepy face and soft cock looked oddly defenseless and vulnerable in the water. His hair standing up from the half-assed tap rinse and remaining suds looked...well, another thing entirely. There was something very silly about seeing a big, powerful man squeezed into a tub, head spotted in bubbles. And by silly Cooper meant punched-in-the-gut sexy.
But that was Park. The strongest, toughest softie he knew. Made up of these seeming contradictions that all worked together to make Cooper’s heart hammer in its cage, demanding to be let out to call a lawyer. It was unfair, unjust and uncalled for, how much Park made him love him.
Cooper pulled his hand up Park’s leg, to his calf, scratching through the hairs there, and Park sighed happily. He did not understand how this body could transform itself into the one that had cowered from him before. But then, he did not understand how some people’s bodies could grow entire other humans or why eye colors looked different depending on what color shirt the person was wearing or why a man like this looked to him as some kind of leader. Though at the rate that was going, Cooper would understand perfectly when Park changed his mind there.
“Have you ever been to North Carolina?” Park asked, startling Cooper out of his grim thoughts.
“What? No. You?”
“Too far south of our territory border.” Park stilled, as if realizing what he’d said, then shifted, grabbing a bottle off the tub’s edge, and the water sloshed.
“You’ve met the alpha of one of the directors, though? Paul Claymont?”
“Once. Years ago, when we were young. I was accompanying my uncle on a check-in trip.” Park’s voice was relaxed and supremely casual, but he was focused just a little too intently on pouring out a small amount of conditioner for Cooper to buy it. “Marcus often had me come with him, in case of trouble. There wasn’t any, that time.” He started working the conditioner into his hair a little too aggressively, pulling at the strands a little too hard.
Cooper stood up and repositioned himself sitting on the flat ledge of the tub near Park’s head. Gently, he pulled Park’s hands away. “May I?” he asked.
Park looked up at him, wide-eyed, and then gave a jerky nod.
Cooper ran his fingers soothingly through Park’s wet, soapy hair and felt him immediately relax into the touch. “If Claymont and Kreuger were both from northern packs around the same time, is it possible they knew each other? That Claymont recognized Kreuger? They could have had history.”
“I suppose it’s possible, though they weren’t from the same state. We’re not the largest community.” Park’s expression turned thoughtful. “From what I know, Becca runs an excellent pack. I wonder why Claymont decided to leave it.”
“People move,” Cooper said a little more sharply than he’d intended. “I thought wolves were free to leave packs when they wished.”
“Mmm,” Park said with less adamant agreement than Cooper was hoping for. “I mean, sure, we can—unless you’re in a rebel pack which is much more complicated—but it’s not a particularly pleasant experience. There’s usually a definite reason that makes the...bad feelings worth it.”
“So like ending any serious relationship, then,” Cooper said, trying not to let the creeping anxiety he felt slip into his voice. Apparently unsuccessfully, as he felt Park still beneath his hands.
“Not quite,” Park said eventually. “Though like a breakup, certainly some wolves feel more...trapped than others depending on the circumstances.”
Cooper’s heart was beating very fast and giving him a nauseating, light-headed buzz in his veins and throat. Trapped? He hated the way that sounded. Depending on what circumstances? What kind of bad feelings? But he could feel Park growing even more tense under his hands and changed the subject quickly. “All these rules,” he said, forcing a light tone. “Will it be a problem that I’m not a wolf?”
Park shook his head dismissively. “No, of course not.”
“Because I’ve been down that road before with you and it was...bumpy,” Cooper added, remembering the whole mess of meeting Park’s family.
Park twisted out of his grip a bit to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry about that. I failed you. Too caught up in my own bullshit.”
Cooper pulled him back in place, uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to guilt-trip Park. Especially not after what had happened earlier. “It’s fine. It’s not like you didn’t have anything else going on at the time. Go back to telling me about how I’m going to be the most popular boy at camp and make so many new friends.”
“We might get some curious looks and overly personal questions, but it won’t be a problem,” Park said, r
elaxing under Cooper’s hands again. “My family is one of the oldest packs in North America with hardly any history of—” he cleared his throat “—ah, mating with humans. But it’s unreasonable and increasingly impossible to maintain as we die out. I’m sure Paul Claymont is far more...modern.”
Cooper made a face. On one hand, that sounded like some seriously messed up shit. On the other, humans who knew about wolves had a track record of treating them like garbage, intentionally or not. How exhausting, how painful, was it to partner with someone who could never possibly understand your daily experience? Who didn’t even know how to touch and comfort you when it mattered?
He winced. On days like this, he understood why wolves like Park’s grandmother worried about wolf-human relationships.
The conditioner was well worked in at this point, but he continued to massage Park’s head. Contrary to earlier, Park was pushing into Cooper’s hands and practically thrumming with pleasure at the touch. What made this touch so different to before?
Cooper used the lather to work Park’s hair up into two little ears, then sat back to get a good look at him. He couldn’t help grinning and kissed his fingertips. “My finest work.”
Park gave him a look that said he knew exactly what was happening and was only tolerating it for Cooper’s sake. “I would think you’ve seen enough of my big ears for one day,” he said, and turned the faucet on, leaning forward to rinse out his hair.
Cooper frowned, watching him. It was difficult to know when to let potentially self-disparaging comments like that slide. Difficult to imagine Park ever felt poorly about himself at all, but Cooper knew better now. He waited until Park had turned the water off and was reclining with his eyes closed before he said, “I want to know what happened in the bedroom.”
Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Big Bad Wolf) Page 4