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The wind is intense.
That’s the only way Zach can describe it -his recently cut hair whipping around his face, though the lower half of the back of his head is almost freezing thanks to his undercut and the strong wind blitzing against the buzzed part. He isn’t used to shivering -except from maybe heat exhaustion or a fever, but not from the bone-deep chilliness that’s accompanying the storm he can SEE forming over the ocean. The rain hasn’t started yet, but the newly nineteen-year-old knows it’s coming -hopefully it will hold off until his mate returns from checking on the girls.
Body wiggling with a strong shiver, Zach shakes his head as he goes back to making sure everything is secured and ISN’T about to get blown into the ocean… or into a tree, depending on how strong the storm is going to hit. Dora chirps at him from the porch -occasionally even darting out to ‘help’ catch a tie-down that’s about to come loose, before returning to the relative safety of the bungalow.
“You better not be messing with those steaks!” He yells after her, watching as she darts into the cat-door they’d installed for her -otherwise she’d whine and nip at them to let her in and out a bajillion times a day- before finishing with the tarp covering the back of his jeep. His, because Owen had lost his jeep rights -not to mention his 4-wheeler right, but Zach doesn’t really blame Barry after the LAST incident- and is stuck with either his raptor form or their beast of a motorcycle.
Dora pokes her head back out the cat-door to whine at him -something she’d definitely learned from Echo- before giving him her best stink-eye and pulling back in.
“The pierogis are off limits too!” He adds, rolling his eyes with a smirk when he hears her screech and throw herself on the floor for a tantrum. At least she knows what ‘no’ and ‘off limits’ are… sometimes Zach isn’t sure if those words actually register in Echo’s brain or not.
Satisfied with his current job -though it’s going to be hell to untangle after the storm, but that’s future-Zach’s problem- the shifter in question gives the yard one last quick onceover, before heading up to the porch, snagging the bottle of 7 Deadly Zins*A that Claire had practically begged him to take (she said it tasted like a pack of cigarettes to her… Zach doesn’t want to know how she knows what that tastes like, especially since he thought it was pretty nice when she let him try it, but whatever) on his way into the bungalow, ignoring Dora and her pouting glare in her cat-bed. Luckily -for her, really- the ribeyes and pierogis are how he left them on the limited counterspace.
“Alright, Dora~” Zach croons, sticking the wine in the freezer to chill faster; steaks and pierogis don’t take long to cook, and hopefully Owen will be back home before that storm hits… at least it isn’t a hurricane, but it’s definitely looking similar to a low-grade tropical storm. “you have two options while Mom and Dad have date night; you can hang out in here with us, and I can get you set up in your ‘alone-time’ cabinet, or you can hang out in your nest in the root cellar that Owen still doesn’t know about.” He really isn’t sure how Owen doesn’t know about the nest, but Zach isn’t going to be the one to point it out to him if he’s still blind to it.
Dora raises her head, ruby-red eyes narrowed and a slight snarl on her face as she chirps a question at him.
“No, we’re gonna spend date night as squishies -being raptors-” Or rather, one large raptor and one 7.3-meters-long I-Rex, really, but semantics right now. “-well, the den’s a little too small for that kinda fun,” Zach explains, snorting into his hand when Dora squawks at him. “So… root cellar nest, then?” He asks, mostly for confirmation; none of the girls like being around him and Owen when they’re being ‘squishie and gross’.
Dora bobs her head, grabs her nigh-indestructible rat toy in her needle-like teeth, and books it outside for the burrow that leads to her nest of pilfered clothes and blankets in the root cellar.
“Don’t get into anything down there!” Zach yells after her, smiling fondly as he turns and starts making a spicy firecracker sauce for the pierogis*B -he’s been craving ‘burnout your sinuses’ hot foods lately, and he doubts Owen will complain about it tonight. Before he gets his hands dirty, though, he pulls his phone out and puts his library on shuffle, humming along when ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ comes on, full hips shaking to the beat as he gets the spices out from the collection he’s acquired -seeing as Owen had originally been a heathen with just salt, pepper, butter, and hot sauce as seasonings in his cabinets. The absolute animal.
Snorting at that ironic thought, Zach lets himself drift into the music and the motions of cooking as the wind bangs against the walls like… well, like a screen door in a hurricane. Which, even if dinner is a total flop, will hopefully be him and Owen later, he muses with a sharp little grin.
_+_+_+_+_
Owen does not, in fact, beat the storm to the bungalow.
Meaning he’s soaked to the bone by the time he has The Beast™ tied and tarped down, and finally makes it inside -sneezing at the level of absolute spiciness in the air. “Zach?” He asks, nose wrinkled as he peels out of his sopping wet shirt and hangs it on the wall-rack specifically for their messy or wet clothes, the basin underneath already collecting water by the time he gets his uncomfortable wet jeans and socks off and hangs them up.
“What!?” Zach asks, voice coming from their small bathroom as he washes the taste of vomit out of his mouth -a wave of nausea having hit him when he’d thrown out the black death of mold that had, at one point, been a jar of old baby dino food that had been forgotten until Zach was trying to find the Sanguinaccio dolce*C for dessert.
“You alright?” Owen asks, concern obvious in his voice as he takes one of the hanging towels and dries off, buck ass naked as he looks over the resting steaks*D and terrifyingly-red pierogis, the jar of chocolate-blood pudding thawing in a lukewarm water bath in the sink. The dishes the younger man had used for cooking are already washed and in the strainer, while the spices and other implements are put away… leaving just the promises of dinner resting on their plates and a bottle of chilled wine hanging out on the folding card table they use for date night dinners. “Man… you went heavy with the hot sauce tonight,”
“That gonna be an issue for you, big baby?” Zach teases, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist as he comes out and straight up leers at the sculpted lines of Owen’s naked body.
Owen just snorts -which he regrets, seeing as it has him sneezing again from the borderline pepper spray-level of spice in the air- before walking over to greet his slightly shorter mate with a peck on the lips. “Shouldn’t be… depending on what kinda spice you used.”
“I thought about using ghost pepper, but I know you’re a bit of a wimp,” Zach jabs teasingly, grinning through a yelp when Owen grabs his hand-filling hips and snaps their hips together. “oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” The younger croons, chortling deep in his throat as Owen growls playfully and nips sharp teeth at his plush lips.
“Careful babe, you’re playing with fire,” Owen jokes back, tongue darting in between lips when Zach returns his playful nips.
“No, you are -I’m the one who can handle Carolina reaper levels of spice, remember?” Zach shoots back just as playfully, keening out a moan when Owen’s nips move onto the side of his neck and tease the mating bite near the junction of his throat and shoulder.
“Hard to forget, you little devil,” Owen purrs, humming against Zach’s neck when the younger’s sharp nails suddenly claw down his bare back.
Zach keens again, panting softly, as Owen nudges a knee between thick thighs -allowing one of his legs to come up and hook around the older’s hips as his upper back presses against the wall behind him. “O… dinner,”
“I know… you just smell so amazing,” Owen groans, trying to fight the heat pooling in his loins at the heady scent Zach is putting off… has been giving off for weeks now. The change is subtle -like adding a bit of coffee to chocolate to enhance the flavor- but it’s enough to make Owen and his inner raptor want to go wild in a heartbeat.
“Don’t worry… I’m planning on letting you have me tonight… but we’re having dinner first,” Zach tells him, face flushed and panting softly as he tilts his head back -eyes changing to their dino form of neon-cyan, pupils blown wide and threatening to swallow that brilliant color up.
Owen hums, but still doesn’t move yet, a purr-like sound rumbling in his chest as he just holds his mate for a little longer, inhaling that change to his scent and the way it mixes so beautifully with the sinus-burning spice in the air. “Love you,” He murmurs, grinning when Zach croons wordlessly and leans forward with an oh-so-gentle kiss.
“Love you too… now put on some pants before you completely ruin my dinner plans,” Zach orders, tone only half-joking as he pulls away first and sashays over to check on the rare, still bleeding steaks.
“As my Queen demands,” Owen teases, just laughing when the younger throws a balled-up paper towel at him for using the dino’s joke.
“Ass!” Zach calls after him, tone too light to actually be offended. “Just for that, I’m playing Jim Croce all night!”
“Is that supposed to be a punishment, sweetcheeks!?” Owen laughs back, grinning when ‘Time in a Bottle’ suddenly starts playing.
“You’re lucky I love you -or I’d be playing Mayday Parade all night instead,” Zach tells him, pouring two tumblers of wine -they don’t bother with actual wine glasses, after the girls broke the only two they’d had before- and taking a slow sip of the spiced-raspberry wine.
“Now that would be a punishment,” Owen deadpans, wearing a pair of boardshorts and a tattered muscle shirt; not that Zach can, or would, complain, seeing as the younger man is in a pair of basketball shorts that hug his ass and thighs, and an older JW, monstera leaf printed tank top. “hmmm… wine?” He asks, accepting the other tumbler from Zach as he squeezes a handful of asscheek in thanks.
Zach hums around his sip, enjoying the slight burn of the alcohol as he rests his cheek against Owen’s shoulder. “Claire gave it to me -she hates the taste of it, but I think it’s pretty good… and the idea of beer or whisky made me a little nauseous.”
“Fair enough,” Owen returns, rolling his eyes in thought at the taste of the wine on his tongue. “not bad… definitely not something I’d go for as a first choice, but I’ll still drink it.” He decides, grinning when Zach snorts at him and pulls away to sit in his folding chair.
“High endorsement, Mr. Grady,” Zach deadpans, grinning as Owen sneers playfully at him. “now sit your ass down, so we can enjoy dinner while it storms outside.”
“Of course, Mr. Grady,” Owen teases -despite their engagement still being too new for marriage to happen within the next few years. “perfect night for a dinner date.”
“Well, rainy nights usually are…”