Page 39 of Someone Else's Wolf

"Yes, now. Actually, twenty minutes ago, but you didn't answer your phone." He looked past me judgmentally and sniffed the air. "Is that potato salad?"

"Yes." I sighed. "Why don't you eat it while I get ready?" Obviously, I wouldn't have time for food. A fucking call. Well, it was part of the job. It just didn't happen often, an emergency call on the weekend. But he was right about my phone. I shouldn't have forgotten about that, and the mistake was on me.

"Don't mind if I do." He stepped up to the table and sat down to the feast I'd laid out. He looked around briefly. "Salt? Pepper? Also, do you need all of this chicken?" He started picking it off the salad with distaste.

"Don't..." I sighed. "Just get something else, and leave the salad for me."

"You don't get any salad. You should have had your phone turned on. Also, put some more clothes on." He gestured with a forkful of potato salad. "I shouldn't have to tell you that that apron isn't workplace attire."

"I'd never have guessed." I rolled my eyes at him and walked into the living room to find my clothes.

"Please don't show me your butt while I'm eating," Kirk said as he ate my snack.

"What happened?" Peter said distractedly, not taking his eyes off the TV. "Why's Kirk here?"

"To eat your food."

"What? Really?" He glanced at me, then quickly looked back to the screen. "Come on,come on— oh, fuck!"

"No, we've got work. My phone was off. Hand me those pants?" I gestured.

"Hm? Oh." He handed me a shirt. I pulled it on. "Great. Now, the pants?"

I really needed to start keeping a work outfit here, but it wasn't something I'd felt free to broach with him. It would be better not to go into the hospital wearing wrinkled clothes, I thought as I dressed, but it was the weekend, and an emergency call, after all. I would remember about the phone in the future. At least, I'd better.

"So, you can't stay and watch the rest of the game?" Peter said, sounding disappointed.

"Afraid I'll have to miss it. See you." I bent down and kissed him.

He kissed me back, but his attention was elsewhere. He patted my side. "Love you."

"Okay." I turned and left the room.

That was how he said it?Great.

Except he hadn't meant it, of course. I'd start getting sour and grumpy if I thought about it too hard, so I put it out of my head. Like so much else, it just wasn't important.

The empty dishes had been placed neatly in the sink when I got back to the kitchen, finally clothed and shod and having retrieved my jacket. Kirk was waiting by the door, looking unapproachable and well-groomed, long and lean in a pea coat, his scarf in a complicated knot. I looked like a schlub next to him. A short schlub.

"Ready?" he asked.

I held up a finger, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a blueberry muffin. I could eat that in the car while Kirk drove. Peter's muffins were delicious, even if they weren't what I'd been hungry for.

I thought I'd at least have the drive to pull myself together in peace, and out of this bad mood, but Kirk started talking almost immediately. "You were in a bad mood before I got there, so don't try to blame this on me."

"I'm not blaming anyone for anything." I took an enormous bite of the muffin and glared ahead.

"You should have had your phone on, no matter how intense the sex was. We're technically always on call."

"I should have. You're right." Another bite. "I won't forget again."

"Does he say that a lot?" asked Kirk.

My heart sank. "Don't know what you mean."

"I heard him say it. It could have been more, well, convincing. I mean, he didn't even see you out the door. I doubt he looked away from the screen once while I was there."

"Dude, let it go. It's not your problem. You were the one who barged in and ate everything, remember?"