“Well shoot, that got me in the mood. You wanna—”
“This is not exactly the time.”
He shoved me with his elbow. “Hey. Wanna watch me fuck this fish?”
I shot the werewolf the most disgusted glance I could muster.
“What, you never looked at the StarKist tuna mascot and thought, ‘yeah, I could fuck that’?” He stroked the dead fish seductively with his index finger.
“You’re so nasty,” I said, reluctantly cracking a smile before breaking into laughter. “God, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Roscoe pulled me closer. “I like it when you laugh.”
We sat like that for a while longer, not saying anything as we listened to the angry commotion coming from the house. Moments like these made me realize how comfortable Roscoe made me. There was a charming guy in there, hiding underneath all the… other stuff. Perhaps the flaws were what attracted me the most to him. He was real, and he was funny, and he had those moments where he was sweet and caring.
The door slowly creaked open, and an embarrassed-looking Adam stepped outside with Austin following, a snarling scowl on his face.
“You could have at least let us finish,” Austin said, turning back toward an equally angry Darryl. They were both about the same size and build. I wondered who would win if they started fighting.
“You finished enough. I’ve gotta sleep on that bed tonight, and your spunk is everywhere.”
“Hell yeah,” Roscoe chimed in. “Bet it smells great.”
Everyone glared at him.
“What? Don’t act like you guys don’t like it.”
“Hey, is that a blue?” Austin asked, looking down at the fish. “Who caught it?”
“I did,” Roscoe said proudly. “Was just about to season this baby. You guys wanna join?” Roscoe’s ears fell off to the side as he looked up at Darryl. “That is, if it’s okay with you, buddy.”
“Oh, why ask? Everyone invites themselves into my house and fucks on my bed. Why not stay for dinner, too?”
“Sounds like a yes to me,” Austin said, eliciting an annoyed hiss from Darryl. “We’re going to need another fish, though. I bet I can get a bigger one.”
Roscoe stood up and playfully shoved the taller werewolf. “I bet it’ll be smaller. Takes a lot of skill to catch these.”
“You’re on, shorty.”
“Don’t mess with the sharks,” Darryl said. “I’ve got a soft spot for them.”
Austin pouted as we all sat around the table eating slices of grilled marlin with a few smoked cods. It seemed the other werewolf couldn’t live up to his boast after all.
“The cod’s good,” Darryl said patronizingly. “Can fit the whole thing in my mouth.”
“Oh, shut up,” Austin muttered, taking another bite of marlin steak. “Damn.”
“Good, ain’t it?” Roscoe put another piece of steak onto his plate.
“I’ve never met a werewolf chef before,” he said, taking a much larger bite.
“There’re two f’s in life I love the most—food and fuckin’. May as well be good at both.”
“I’ll eat to that,” Austin replied, patting a disgruntled Adam on the head, who looked more like a pissed-off wet cat than a half-turned werewolf. He hadn’t said much since he walked out of the house. The dynamic playing out at the table wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Austin and Roscoe seemed to hit it off pretty well; Darryl, on the other hand, was less than friendly.
“Do you and Austin know each other?” I asked, trying to strike up a conversation that would give me a bit more insight.
“Yes.” Darryl’s sharp, one-word response was a subtle hint not to press it further.
