There hadn’t been a burglary in this neighborhood in years, but that didn’t mean tonight wouldn’t be the night that ruined the streak. Technically it was three in the morning, but still…
I crept to the door making the split second decision to not bring something with me to fight off the intruder. I had a bear and if I needed to take him out, so be it. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but being three in the morning and half asleep, it was the best that I had.
Turning the knob so slowly, I tiptoed out of the room. Had Candrin not been asleep, I’d have come out loud, but I couldn’t risk freaking the intruder out and having them panic and run into Candrin’s room bymistake. I had to be more cautious.
Candrin’s scent was strong in the air and as I rounded the corner, everything fell into place. It was him on the stairs, I just missed him leaving his room when I was dozing, sleeping harder than I realized.
“Gods, you scared me!” He jumped, nearly tumbling down the stairs.
“I thought you were a burglar,” I confessed. No point in pretending otherwise. “You were so quiet.” And not like someone that lived here.
“I didn’t want to wake you. I couldn’t sleep and thought I would grab a glass of hot water and see if that would help.” He loosened his grip on the handrail. “Sorry I woke you.”
I started down the stairs, very happy that I chose not to bring something that could be used as a weapon.
“I wasn’t asleep. Mind some company?”
“I’d like that.”
I hadn’t heard of anyone drinking hot water when they couldn’t sleep. Tea possibly, but not water and I wondered if it was all going back to hisfinancial worries.
“I’m going to warm up some milk.” I opened the fridge door. “Want some? It helps me sleep and I bought too much with my brothers out of town.” Which wasn’t a lie. It was cheaper this week to buy a gallon than a quart so I just stuck with our normal amount.
“I can have… you know what? I’d like that.”
He went to the cupboard and got out two mugs while I filled a small saucepan with milk and turned the burner on, keeping the flame low so as not to scorch it.
“This is how I make hot cocoa too, but there’s no way we will get any sleep tonight if we get sugared up.” I slowly stirred the milk with my bamboo spoon.
“We really won’t.” He watched what I was doing, as if mesmerized by the motion.
Soon enough it was starting to simmer and I turned off the heat. “Would you like a bit of nutmeg in yours?” I asked.
“Maybe?” He looked skeptical.
“It’s my favorite, but if you want to try mine first, that works.” As soon as I said it, I heard how overly familiar the offer sounded. That wasn’t something you held out as an option for acquaintances or tenants. Not evenrandom friends, only close ones would beshare a drinkworthy.
“I trust you,” he responded immediately, taking away any of the awkwardness I feared that I infused into the conversation.
I poured the milk and grated the nutmeg on top and handed him his mug. “Want to take this into the living room? I could put on the ‘guaranteed to help you fall asleep’ music channel on the TV.” I’d seen it a few times in passing and doubted it worked, but the kitchen chairs weren’t comfy and when you were trying to get ready to go back to sleep you needed comfort.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Candrin followed me to the living room where we grabbed a seat on the sofa and put a blanket that was strewn over the back on top of us. I turned the television on and found the channel that boasted a good night’s sleep. On the screen was a field of flowers waving in the wind, the music more new agey than the classical vibe I’d expected. It was nice in that it settled into the background and didn’t distract us from our drinksand conversation.
Would it help anyone sleep? I doubted it, but honestly with the omega sitting so close to me, I was fine with staying up and chatting. It meant I got more time with him.
“This is delicious,” he praised my drink and my bear puffed up, proud that he provided for the omega. “I never thought of that before.”
“My grandfather used to make it for me when I would visit him.” It was one of my fondest memories.
“Tell me about him.” He leaned back, sipping his drink once again. I told him about the time we went fishing, skipping the part about him doing it in his fur, and about when he made pancakes shaped like a dog to make me smile, and the story he used to tell us about a little girl who broke into a house owned by three bears.
“I know that story.” He set his now empty mug down. “I used to like it as a kid, but I never understood why she ran away screaming. The bears had a house and could talk, it wasn’t as if they were wild bears who would eat her. She might’ve even been able to make friends with the baby bear.”
He’d obviously given it some serious thought when he was a child. And he wasn’t wrong about the bears not being an issue.
“She was the bad guy in the story.” I set my own mug down. “She broke into the house, destroyed their things, and then treated them like monsters.” It was used as a warning to young shifters not to trust humans, but I wasn’t bringing that part up.
