“Hi, Zef,” he said with a crooked grin. “It’s good to see you.”
“You as well. I am happy you are back. I have found several documentaries for us to watch about the human ocean, the Hellian civil rights movement, and one about the riveting history of postage stamps! Not that we must watch them now as I am sure you are tired from your flight. But I did not want to watch without you, so I compiled a list.”
They opened their notes app and held their phone out for Bryce to see. The human blinked. Then his grin widened, breaking over his face into something warm and fond.
“I missed you too,” he said, and Zef’s chest pulsed.
Clicking uncomfortably in the back of their throat, they tucked their phone away and mumbled, “Well, that is rather dramatic.”
With a laugh, Bryce took his bag back and headed toward his room. “Let me get unpacked and shower the plane germs off me. Then we’ll catch up, okay?”
“Are you hungry? I can prepare the pot pie.”
Bryce’s face lit up. “You made me pot pie? Heck, I should leave more often if I get this kind of treatment when I come back.”
“Do not exaggerate. I was in the mood for pot pie. That is all,” they sniffed, making the human laugh.
“Sure,” he said as he headed down the hallway.
While Bryce showered, Zef put the pot pie into the oven to bake and set the table. They made themself a mug of their new favorite tea, an herby concoction Bryce had gifted them for Christmas, and put on a true crime podcast Tad had recommended.
“Uh, Zef?” Bryce called from the bathroom. “I didn’t realize I was out of soap. You have any more bars in your bathroom?”
“Of course. I shall fetch you one,” they called back, hurrying to their bathroom to retrieve a freshly made bar from under their sink. They had scented this batch with citrus peel and green tea, knowing Bryce appreciated both, and were eager to know his feedback.
Outside Bryce’s bathroom, Zef knocked loud enough to be heard over the spray of the shower. The door opened halfway, revealing a very wet Bryce with a towel fastened around his waist. His brown hair stuck to his forehead as water droplets wriggled down his neck and through his matted chest hair.
His large, soft belly was covered in the same thick fur, and Zef cocked their head, inspecting the thick trail curling down from his navel and disappearing beneath the towel.
They had seen his bare torso when he had donned his traditional Christmas outfit, but there was something different about witnessing him like this. Wet and, for all intents and purposes, naked. The sight made the skin on the back of Zef’s neck prickle strangely.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Bryce said, taking the bar of soap from Zef’s grasp. The tips of his fingers touched theirs, and they jolted at the moist heat of them. “Crap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It is alright,” they said hurriedly.
“No, it ain’t. I didn’t mean to touch you, Zef. I—”
“Bryce.”
They reached out a lower hand and carefully, carefully rested the tips of their three fingers on the back of Bryce’s knuckles. There was dark hair here too, between the round, jutting bones, and they liked the texture of it.
“It is alright,” they repeated, never severing eye contact.
Bryce’s lips parted on a quiet gasp as Zef added the slightest pressure until nearly the full pads of their fingers pressed to his hot skin. That prickling on the back of their neck turned into a more insistent tingle, and their antennas wriggled in curiosity.
This was new.
This was different.
“Thanks for the soap,” Bryce said weakly.
“You are most welcome,” they replied, noting the shakiness to their own breath.
They stood unmoving for another long moment before they stepped back, withdrawing their hand. Their fingers flexed on their own accord in an attempt to dispel the sudden and unexplainable pins-and-needle sensation. For his part, Bryce was frozen, lips still parted, breathing heavy.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Zef said, and he nodded, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“Okay. Thanks. For the… soap.”
