Page 37 of Someone Else's Wolf
On the job, Kirk handled himself well, even if he had no time for nonsense. But, unfortunately, he wouldn't let me know if he was pushing himself too hard. He seemed to think he could — should — just take it, no matter how he was feeling. It took some effort to see through his guise and then convince him not to push too hard, that he needed time off, or to take a break.
Resorting to reminding him that he needed to stay in this for the long term was usually what worked. He'd recall his priorities and stop trying to tough it out. But that was only if I'd figured it out and managed to talk him around with tact. If I didn't, he'd just suffer through.
Despite the challenges of our work, he was very good to me, and he never blamed me when things were difficult. We were always on the same side, and I was very proud of that; it was something we both contributed to. He took this work as seriously as I did. We presented — and were — a united front on the job, whatever our differences outside it.
Sometimes he needed to go away by himself and be alone in the woods. Fortunately, there were enough woods around here that that was possible for him.
He'd found himself a nice little cabin to rent, a small property encroached on by one of the state parks that was full of trees. The property was beautiful, almost completely shaded in the summertime. The very small, rustic dwelling had full amenities, everything he might want. So his off-work surroundings were quiet: no traffic, no close neighbors, just what he needed.
My eyes popped a little when I realized how much he was paying for it, but it was worth the cost to him. He couldn't have stood living in a sterile condominium surrounded by regulation-length lawn. Here, he could walk outside, strip off his clothes, shift, and step into the forest as a deer, all without shocking the neighbors or garnering any notice, unless it was from curious wildlife.
Being outdoors as much as possible seemed to make him happier and calmer, cleansed, somehow, as if he was more real that way and his human life was only a means to an end, a necessary evil for saving lives, but not something he particularly enjoyed or found much meaning in otherwise.
He'd called his deer form his "true self," and I began to realize that it was the truth, for him. He also informed me that he'd taken over a large territory, and that all the deer in the area respected his space.
"They know I'm not just a buck. It's not that they're afraid of me, exactly, but they know I'm not one of them, and I smell a bit of man somehow. They stay away." He looked quite pleased about that.
It was interesting to learn more about my partner when he opened up, or through observation. I found I had a tremendous respect for him: his work ethic and his desire to save lives, the fierce stubbornness that he used mostly to help others, rarely to demand his own way, and I was quite fond of him as well.
He wasn't a demonstrative man, but I could feel his warmth towards me sometimes, a quiet thing we didn't talk about, underlying our partnership. He had accepted me into his life, and I was in all the way, and here for good. It was a huge honor, and a rare thing. He didn't let many people into his life, even partway.
Throughout all this, our adjustment and learning time as Kirk and I settled into hospital work and dealing with regulations, rules, patients, and our own stress levels, I continued to see Peter. His giving me his key had been a big deal, and it meant a lot, and had done a lot to heal my bruised feelings.
Our relationship progressed to the point where it was a given that I'd spend any time we both had off at his place. I wasn't sure why he didn't come over to my place as often, but perhaps it was because he had a better kitchen, or perhaps he liked being in his own territory. I didn't bother to ask, because I didn't care that much. I liked being with him. I was still besotted with the man, and not just because he did things to me. Amazing things, by the way.
He cooked a lot, and enjoyed it. He was really good at it. I'd never eaten better in my life. Even when he didn't take the time to cook a whole meal for me, there were always good things to eat in the fridge. He could've been a gourmet chef, at least in my mind.
When I told him that, he laughed and tried to explain the difference between a properly cooked meal and what would take it to the next level of being gourmet. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand, not that it really mattered. The fact that he knew the difference didn't change my opinion that he was awfully damned good and could probably stand toe-to-toe with any chef in the world.
He appreciated my enthusiasm, even if it wasn't grounded in perfect understanding of cuisine and the culinary world.
One time, he investigated and recreated an unusual recipe my grandmother used to make around the holidays, because I was feeling nostalgic for it. I didn't ask him to; it was all his idea. And it was just one more way he showed that he cared about me.
He never brought his work home, and I tried not to, either.
The captain hadn't tried terribly hard to talk me out of handing in my resignation, and while there had been some remarks from officers I'd worked with day in and day out for years, most people seemed to understand my choice to get out of the police force — or at least decide that I wasn't worth the effort to dissuade. I wasn't the only cop who'd ever gotten burned out during his career, staring down the long, long barrel towards a fabled retirement and wondering if it would ever arrive.
I saw Sue only twice during my first two months of working with Kirk, and even then it was only a glimpse. She never tried to horn in on our "visits," and she never came to see me at my job or did anything else creepy or pushy. Even if she hadn't been willing to admit she was wrong, she'd certainly decided it was better not to interfere in any other way, or even get near me if she didn't have to.
But then again, she'd already gotten everything she wanted, so what would be the point of agitating for anything else?
Actually, though, I wondered. Had she gotten everything she wanted, or did she harbor the delusion of being able to have Peter as her own romantic partner? I couldn't blame her if she found him attractive and amazing — he was — but she was well aware by this time that he was gay, and probably wasn't delusional enough to think she could "turn" him.
She'd seemed like a sensible woman to me before she went off to join the Shifters and Partners program, so I doubted she was any less levelheaded now. Ruthless, maybe, but levelheaded. And if all she'd been worried about was Peter's interest in me being professional, that worry was pretty well blown out of the water by now.
My adjustment to the new job happened in fits and starts, and it took looking back for me to realize that I'd gotten quite used to some new aspect or perk of the job without even realizing. I settled in. I got to know all the staff we worked with regularly, and most of the ones at places we worked irregularly. I knew their names and memorized the things it was polite to ask about: kids, hobbies, food, whatever polite chitchat topic might be necessary. Kirk wasn't going to do it, that was for sure.
Kirk was gorgeous enough to merit lots of attention, but his prickliness would quickly have put people off if not for me being there to smooth the waters. It was a change — and a welcome one — to be the guy who handled chitchat and friendly relations, as well as a bit of paperwork, rather than being the guy who had to write people up or wade into tense and possibly violent situations and try to save the day, only to have both parties decide I was a worse enemy than anyone else could ever possibly be.
I didn't see Kirk outside of work. We didn't chitchat, socialize, or hang out. But we were friends all the same. More than coworkers; we were a team. I hadn't realized how great that would be. It meant something to me, made something inside me feel settled and safe.
Kirk wasn't going to blow smoke, and he wasn't going to play nice. He would tell it like it was, exactly and in great detail. But he'd also never go behind my back, or play politics, or screw me over professionally or personally. I could trust him, and I did. We were in this together.
His incredible passion for saving lives could probably never be matched by my more mundane motives, but I cared, too, and we did good work. I might be absolutely useless as a diagnostician, but I helped him do his job better, so my role was important. In his case, at least, it definitely wasn't just red tape and insurance concerns that made having a partner necessary. My facilitation made a difference.
I liked to think I was doing the job well. It was pleasing to play the good cop all the time. And I quite liked sleeping in on my weekends.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN