Page 41 of Bunker Down, Baby

God, I love how he calls me that.

I creep toward Brock’s place, careful not to snap any branches underfoot. Everything’s quiet. Just the soft wind and the distant sound of something nocturnal calling out in the dark.

Brock’s a creature of routine. Always in bed early when he’s planning a hunt. I know that. I’ve been watching him for a long time, studying his habits, learning his patterns, taking quiet little peeks through his windows like a very considerate future wife.

His back door is unlocked. Of course it is. He’s trusting like that. Or cocky. Either way, it’s adorable.

I slip inside, silent as the grave, and find him just where I knew he’d be, curled on his side, shirtless under the sheets, breathing slow and deep. I smile as I move closer. His gun’s by the bed, but it won’t matter. He doesn’t even flinch when I inject him.

While I wait for the sedative to take effect, I gather some things. His guns. Guns are personal, and even though I have all the guns and ammo he’ll ever need, these are his, and that matters.

I check on him once the guns are all in one place by the door.

His chest rises and falls with each breath. Big, solid, steady. He’s beautiful in the way wild things are. Rough. Unpolished. His scars catch the moonlight, and I can already feel my heart doing stupid, fluttery things.

We’re going to be so good together.

I brush his hair back from his forehead and press a kiss to it. Then I poke my head out the door and stage whisper, “Bring in the bags!”

While I wait, I pull out Brock’s winter coat. I wasn’t able to find the exact same style and brand, and he doesn’t have much, so there’s no reason to leave anything behind.

Dean strides in like we’re robbing a Best Buy, two duffels over his shoulder, that boyish grin still firmly in place.

I’ve already set out Brock’s metal coffee mug, because he never drinks coffee in anything but that.

“So what all are we grabbing?” Dean asks, looking around the cabin. “Like for a weekend, or full-on cram in all the shit we can?”

“Let’s take all we can. He’s picky,” I say, waving a hand as I pull the covers off Brock. “I wanted him to have a few things to anchor to. I bought him all new things, too. I know what he likes.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but he starts shoving clothes from the dresser into a bag. “Do you know what I like?”

“Yes. And you’re welcome.” I hand him a set of cuffs and a smile that should be illegal.

He bends over Brock’s body with me, and I can’t help but notice how huge they both are. It’s like dragging two slabs of hot, male lumber through the woods. Dean loops the cuffs on, strong and practiced, and glances at me as we start working together to get Brock bundled into one of the thicker duvets.

“You studied me?” he asks, cocking a grin. “That why I got brand-new boots in my closet at the bunker?”

“Yes. And a leather jacket in the hall. I saw you eyeing one just like it in that catalog on your desk three weeks ago.”

Dean lets out a low whistle. “Pamela never bought me jackets. Pamela mostly bought meth.”

I roll my eyes. “Well I’m not Pamela, Dean.”

“No,” he says, dragging Brock up with one arm like he weighs nothing. “You’re so much better. You’re like if Martha Stewart ran a cult.”

“Oh my God, thank you,” I say.

“Did Evan get this treatment?” He shifts the weight of Brock onto his back and smirks at me. “I didn’t. Are we stopping at my place to pack my shit too?”

I wave a hand. “If you really want to stop at your place, we can but I bought you everything you need. You only had a handful of things at your place, and I already replaced them. I did pack Evan and bought all the expensive snacks he likes, and his shampoo, and that weird brand of toothpaste. I’ve got you all memorized.”

Dean laughs. “You really did your homework.”

“I care,” I say, genuinely. “And I want everyone to be comfortable. That’s not a crime.”

Dean adjusts Brock’s weight again. “You know, it should be scary that you’ve got a database of our preferences like a horny NSA agent, but honestly?” He leans in. “It’s kinda hot.”

I beam. “It is hot. It’s sexy to be prepared.”

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