Date: Fri, 09 May 2014 21:06:35 -0700
From: UrsusMajr <UrsusMajr@makaw.net>
Subject: Brown Bear Coffee House Chapter 3

Brown Bear Coffee Company
by
PapaWereBear and UrsusMajr


(Note to Reader: This is the sequel to Becoming the Bear and Being the
Bear.  Some things in this story refer to events and characters in the
earlier ones, so you may wish to read those first. This is (obviously) a
work of fiction, and no real persons or events are depicted. As in our
other werebear stories, safe sex practices are not depicted; but in real
life, get tested and always play safe. We both hope you enjoy this story.
If you have comments, you may contact the authors at: PapaWereBear
papawerebear69@yahoo.com , and UrsusMajr UrsusMajr@makaw.net )


Chapter 3


Rusty finished the monthly supply order and had just called it in when
Rebekah's voice floated up the stairs.

"Homeless dude's back, he wants to talk to you."  Rusty walked over to the
stairwell and called back, "His name is Brian, not 'Homeless Dude'.  Tell
him I'll be down in a minute."  Rusty saved the Quick Books file he was
working on and headed down the stairs.

He crossed the hall and went in to the Brown Bear's storage room off the
kitchen.  Brian stood there, now dressed in considerably cleaner clothes,
holding the neatly folded overalls.  "I'm ready.  What would you like me to
do?"

The food and clean clothes had transformed Brian into a much more
presentable and healthier looking man.  He still needed feeding up but he
looked in much better condition now than he had been this morning on the
step.  He'd made an effort to comb his hair and beard into some semblance
of order even if he still looked a bit shaggy.  His clothes, though a
little worn, were no longer offensive to the nostrils; even the odorous
jacket looked much more presentable and, more importantly, smelled clean.

"OK, follow me."  While they headed down the stairs to the cellar, Rusty
told Brian what was needed.  "You'll need to move some crates to give
yourself some work space; there's a hand truck over there in the corner for
that.  There are a bunch of shelves and brackets.  They need to be
assembled and then put up on the wall.  My partner Norman has a box of
tools down here somewhere."  Rusty rummaged through a pile of drop cloths
and wood planking and found what he was looking for.  "Here they are.
There are a couple of outlets over there and the shelves need to be mounted
on this wall here.  I've marked the locations for the shelves with chalk.
Run them across the entire width of the wall.  Once the shelves are
anchored, we can decide where all the rest of this will go.  Most of it is
stock for the coffee shop and I want it up off the floor.  Eventually,
we're going to put cabinets under the shelves, with a counter top.  There's
a drill and drill bits over here, somewhere."  Rusty stopped and looked at
Brian.  "Think you can handle it?"

"Cake and pie," Brian said looking around.

"Huh?"

"Piece of cake, easy as pie." Brian answered with a shy smile.  "My dad
used to say that, 'cake and pie'."  Brian's smile died as quickly as if a
switch had been flipped and he turned to the wall, examining the wooden
uprights that would hold the shelves.  "I'll give you a call when the
shelves are up.  It shouldn't take more than a few hours."  Brian shrugged
out of his parka, laying it on one of the crates and set to work.

Rusty watched for a few minutes.  He had noticed the sudden change in
Brian's face from an almost fond look to a closed, rigid blankness.  He
waited to see if Brian would add any comment but he seemed intent on his
work and Rusty didn't feel he should intrude.  'Something's going on
there,' he thought to himself as he climbed the stairs.

Once Rusty was up the stairs, Brian began moving the crates over to one
side of the cellar.  It felt good to use his muscles again for work instead
of just walking.  Once he had sufficient space cleared to work comfortably,
he looked more closely at the wood uprights.  They looked old but solid.
He grabbed one and tried to pull on it.  It didn't budge even a fraction.
Further inspection showed that additional U brackets had been placed around
them, anchored to the cement wall with thick lag bolts.  Nodding with
satisfaction, Brian set to work.  The box of tools Rusty had pointed out
contained everything he needed and within three hours, all the brackets
were assembled and the shelving ready.  He headed back up the stairs and
poked his head into the store room.

"Rusty?" he called out.

"He's upstairs." Rebekah answered, walking into the kitchen. "I'll call him
for you, uh..."

Brian smiled and said, "I'm Brian."

"Oh, yeah... right.  I'm Rebekah, though ONLY the boss and my parents get
to call me Bekah.  Call me Becky and I'll eat your liver with some fava
beans and a big Amarone."  She smiled.

"I thought that was fava beans and a nice Chianti?"  Brian asked.

"Not in the book, it wasn't," Bekah winked "Oh and sorry about the
'homeless dude' earlier but..."

"It's OK."  Brian stood there, not sure if he should go back downstairs or
wait for Rusty to come down.

Rebekah went into the hall and hollered up the stairwell, "Boss, Brian
needs to talk to you."  In short order, Rusty came downstairs and saw Brian
standing in the doorway to the store room.

"Whatcha need?"

"I've got the shelves ready to put up but I have an idea.  If you come
down, I can show you and you can decide."

Rusty nodded and followed Brian down the stairs to the cellar.  Things
actually looked considerably neater than they had in a long time, he noted
with approval.  Brian was gesturing to the wall where the shelving brackets
were mounted.

"If I notch the shelves, they'll sit flush against the wall.  You won't
have anything sliding down behind.  And you said you were going to put
cabinets and a counter top along here, under the shelves.  I got to
thinking; it would be handy to have some light there, under the shelves
shining down on the counter.  It would be easier to put the wiring in for
that now, before the shelves or cabinets go in.  If you like, I can do that
now and raise this outlet here so it won't be behind the cabinets."  He
paused.  "I can do electrical."  He looked at Rusty.

Rusty looked at the wall and saw the sense of what Brian was proposing.  He
nodded.  "That's a good idea.  That's excellent, actually... well done!"
Brian's smile returned and there was a touch of pride in it.  He felt good
to be of use and to offer helpful suggestions.  "Listen, I'll fix lunch and
then we can head down to the hardware store.  I have to make a deposit at
the bank, anyway.  Soup and sandwich be OK for you?"

"Sure would.  Thank you!"  Something in Brian's voice convinced Rusty that
two meals in a row was a luxury that he had not been accustomed to lately.
Rusty headed back upstairs to the shop's kitchen.  He ladled out two bowls
of the tomato bisque he had made yesterday, along with thick slabs of the
whole wheat bread he had baked the day before.  He reheated the soup in the
micro while he toasted the bread and assembled the sandwiches with thin
sliced garlic and rosemary roast beef, horseradish, mayo, sweet Walla Walla
onion and a couple of thick slabs medium cheddar.

He stuck his head out into the front of the shop and saw that Donovan had
been able to come in and that he and Rebekah were easily handling the lunch
crowd, Rebekah's friendly voice chattering to all and sundry.  Mornings,
late afternoons, and evenings were still the busy times.  Not that many
stopped in at lunch.  "Thanks for coming in early, Donovan." he said,
returning to the ping of the microwave.  Donovan nodded and turned back to
his customer.  Then, lunches in hand, Rusty headed back downstairs.

As they ate the lunch, Rusty made small talk with Brian.  "How long you
been out on your own, like this?" he said, gesturing towards the jacket and
duffel, now stacked neatly in the corner.

"Little over five months." Brian replied between bites.

"Where do you sleep?"

"Here and there; shelters, mostly, they're safer.  The Salvation Army ones
are the best, they're always clean and the food's good.  You have to listen
to prayers but that's OK.  Smaller towns don't usually have shelters.  Then
it's an underpass or maybe a park... or a doorway."

"Like this morning."

"Yeah."

There was a longer silence then and Rusty finally broke it with the
question that had been on his mind.  "Umm...  how did you get to be
homeless, if you don't mind my asking?"

Brian's face closed up and he looked at his plate.  The silence grew cold.
'Uh oh.  Wrong question,' Rusty thought to himself.  Out loud, he said,
"Sorry, Brian.  I didn't mean to pry."

Brian looked back up and snapped, "I just don't want to talk about it, OK?"
Rusty nodded. "OK."

Rusty got up and reached for Brian's now empty plate.  "Well, make a list
of the things you'll need for the lights.  I'll be ready to leave in about
an hour."

"You...  you mean you still want me to do the work?" Brian looked
questioningly at Rusty.

"Of course, why not?"

"Well, I thought...  maybe... I..."  Unsure, Brian looked up at Rusty,
standing on the stairs.  "Thanks.  Lunch was really good.  I'll be ready."

Rusty headed up the stairs, feeling bad that he'd stepped on Brian's sore
spot, and crossed the hall to Moose's office.  Eunice, the receptionist,
was at her desk and Rusty could hear two patients chatting in the waiting
room.  "Is he with a patient?" Rusty asked.

"No, Mr. Z, he isn't, just finished.  I was about to call the next one in.
You can go back if you want."

"Thanks Eunice."  Rusty liked the elderly receptionist.  She had a calm,
friendly air about her and the patients, some of whom were nervous about
physical therapy or unsure of insurance claims, appreciated her friendly
competence.  Moose had hired her after she had been let go from her
previous job for being 'too old'.  She hadn't had the money to hire a
lawyer for an age discrimination suit.  Moose had been lucky to get her,
Rusty thought to himself.  He walked back to the treatment area and found
Moose racking hand weights.

"Hey, lover, I'm headed down to the bank to make a deposit.  Do you need
anything from town?" He walked over to Moose and was scooped into a massive
bear hug.  He sighed deeply.  "Mmmmmmm."  This never got old for either of
them.

"Nah, I don't...  oh, wait.  The printer called.  The treatment forms for
insurance claims are done, could you pick them up for me?" He kissed his
bear and gave him a second squeeze.

"Sure, no problem, oh and I have a guy working in the cellar, putting up
those shelves.  He seems to be doing good work and is going to put some
lights in for us as well down there.  I'm taking him with me to pick up
some stuff at the hardware store."

"I heard when I went over for coffee `bout an hour ago.  You picking up
strays now?  That doesn't sound like you." Moose said with a worried look.

"No, it's not like that.  I'll explain later when we get back.  I want to
get to the bank before it closes.  You can meet him then."  Moose looked
skeptical.  "You'll like him, I think."

"Maybe," Moose said as he kissed Rusty on the forehead. "off you go, you'll
miss the bank."

Meanwhile, Brian had gone right back to work, driving home the last of the
screws and mentally kicking himself for snapping at Rusty.  'This guy's
been real nice to me and I had to go and be rude.  Serve me right if he'd
told me to get out.'  He bore down especially hard on the last of the
screws, nearly stripping it with the power driver.  He tidied up, unplugged
the drill and put the tools back in the tool box.  He made out the list of
the things he would need for the lighting.  By the time he was done, Rusty
came back down the stairs.

"You ready?"

"Yep, got the list, let me know what you want done here.  I thought I'd
wire the lights into the wall switch but also with a switch of their own.
That way, they could go on when you flip the switch by the stairs for the
overhead but you could turn them off separately if you wanted to.  Is that
OK with you?"

"Sounds good.  Let's go, I need to hit the bank before it closes."  Rusty
trotted back up the stairs and Brian followed.  They got into Rusty's SUV
and headed downtown; they rode in silence for a bit, with Brian looking
around at the town as they drove along.

"This is bigger than I thought." he said, to fill the space left while he
tried to get the courage to apologize to Rusty for his earlier sharp
response.

"Yeah, it's grown a lot in the past couple of years.  We've got cable TV
and the internet and everything now," Rusty said with a smile, "just like
downtown.  Traffic has picked up since they put the signs up on the main
highway, we're now officially a 'business loop', so we get more traffic
through town for gas and food and such.  You can't really see the town from
the highway."  Rusty was gesturing as he drove, pointing out things,
keeping the conversation light and easy.  There was a pause as Rusty turned
in to a parking lot.  "Here's the hardware store.  Why don't I let you go
in and pick up the stuff you need.  I'll make the deposit at the bank and
pick up Norman's forms at the printer and meet you back here in, say,
thirty, forty minutes?  I'll come inside and then we can check out.  Sound
good?"

Brian nodded and got out.  Before he shut the door, he looked at Rusty.
There was a pause and then he said, "Thanks for trusting me.  You won't be
sorry."  He closed the door and headed into the store.  He kicked himself
for not saying what he really needed to.

Rusty took care of the deposit and chatted briefly with the teller, picked
up the forms at the printer, then headed back to the hardware store.  He
parked close to the exit and went inside, still half expecting not to see
Brian; but he was waiting with a push cart close to one of the check-out
registers.  He waved when he saw Rusty.

"You got everything you'll need?  I hate doing handyman chores, Norman is
much better at it and I always have to make at least two trips to the
hardware store...  I ALWAYS forget something."

"I think so.  I don't need much, but tell me if you like the lights.  I got
slim line ones, plain white, so you won't really notice them and you could
paint them if you want, to match any color for the cabinets and counter.
It's not too much, is it?  Money, I mean."

Rusty looked at the boxes and nodded approval.  "They look fine, and no, it
isn't too much."  He paid when the clerk had rung everything up and he and
Brian carried the items to the car.  "Just dump that in the back."  They
climbed into the SUV and headed back to the Brown Bear.

"Umm," Brian started to say something then stopped.

"What?" Rusty carefully asked.  Brian had been touchy earlier and Rusty
wasn't sure he was over it yet.

Brian had been thinking all the time he was in the hardware store.  Rusty's
earlier question had been a natural one, almost inevitable and Brian had
reacted in the same negative way he always had when it had come up before.
But it bothered him anyway.  'He seems like a nice guy. I should apologize.
And if he doesn't like gays, he'd probably just ask me to go, not beat me.
Wait, he mentioned a partner...  but that could be a business partner,
though.  I don't want to keep making up stories.  Maybe I should tell him
and just get it over with.'

Brian took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to be
rude to you."  He paused, gulped and then plowed on.  "I was kicked out.
From home, I mean.  You asked how I got to be living on the streets.  I was
home from college and told my folks I was gay.  He kicked me out, said he
wouldn't have a sodomite living under his roof and wouldn't support one
either."  He looked sideways to Rusty, to see how he was taking his
confession.  Rusty's eyes were on the road but he was nodding.  "They even
kept the keys to my car.  Well it was theirs, really, I guess.  It was
supposed to be a loan until I graduated.  The rent was due. I didn't have
any money, they were paying my tuition and since it was summer, my
roommates had split.  I tried to get a job but all the summer jobs were
taken by then.  I got some day work here and there and stayed with a buddy
for a couple of weeks.  I tried to apply for financial aid or a scholarship
so I could continue school but if you don't have an address and your
parents won't co-sign or even forward mail for you...  Anyway, things just
got worse.  One guy who hired me tried to rape me when he found out I was
gay and I sort of hurt him defending myself.  He called the police and lied
to them, said I had attacked him first.  The police didn't totally believe
him but they didn't seem to believe me, either.  I left town then, figured
it was safer than hanging around.  I've been drifting since."

Rusty drove in silence while Brian talked, his grip on the wheel tightened
and his knuckles turned white.  For some reason, such stories touched a
chord deep in Rusty, something that caused a primal, unfocused anger.  He'd
always been an underdog in school and in his youth, picked on and bullied.
He keenly felt injustice directed towards young people, even now.  He knew
from more recent experience that such unfocused rage literally brought his
bear out, ready to fight; something Brian could not be allowed to see.

Forcing himself to remain calm, he pulled over on a side street and
stopped.  He turned to the young man and said, "I'm sorry, truly I am, more
sorry than you might believe.  It's horrible to be rejected, particularly
by your family, but sadly, it's not all that unusual.  It happens to a lot
of gay kids.  Forty percent of the young homeless are gay, because their
families kicked them out.  Have you tried to contact them?  Tried to work
something out?  Maybe, after they've had time to think about..."

Brian cut him off.  "They hate me.  Mom said I was unnatural.  Dad said I
was going to burn in hell and he was glad because there would be one less
of my kind in the world.  They said I'd made my choice and I'd betrayed
them and God.  I was an abomination."

Rusty took a deep breath to calm himself.  "Sometimes, parents say things
they later regret, in the heat of the moment..."

Brian shook his head and looked out the side window.  He mumbled, "They
changed the locks on the house, in case I still had a key." He looked down
into his lap, "I don't exist to them anymore.  I asked my dad if he cared
if his son died on the street.  He said I wasn't his son anymore so, no, he
didn't care.  He made me feel so ashamed, so guilty... like I had done
something wrong, that I was something wrong."  Brian turned his head to
look back out the window, shoulders tense.

"Oh...  I'm so sorry, Brian."  Rusty said this in the calmest, most
sympathetic tone he could muster, but what he wanted to do was scream.  Not
at Brian... he wanted to scream at the injustice, the cruelty, the
callousness.  He was feeling the bear within awaken and he had to stop
that, he knew.  He continued, "If it helps, you didn't do anything wrong or
evil and anyone that thinks otherwise is without compassion and they
probably have always been.  It is they, not you, who should be made to feel
ashamed and they who are guilty.  I don't know your parents, but what they
did was wrong."  Rusty trembled slightly, forcing down the rage building
within him.  He considered putting his hand on Brian's thigh, patting him
to give some measure of reassurance, but held back.

"It's OK, you didn't do anything.  I'm over it, got the scars to prove it.
I cried myself out months ago, I suppose." he said.  That controlled tone
of voice had returned and Rusty somehow knew it was because Brian had, for
the time being, reached the limit of what he would talk about in relation
to his past.

Brian screwed a smile on his face and looked into Rusty's eyes, "That's the
past, no sense in living there, is there?  Doesn't do anyone any good; live
in the moment, right?"  Brian said, taking a breath and wiping an eye with
his sleeve.

Rusty started the car back up and a few minutes later, pulled into the
alley behind the Brown Bear.  After unloading the bits and pieces and
carting them downstairs, Brian got back to work and Rusty headed out front.
The afternoon lull was almost over.  People off work early and heading home
would soon be drifting in for the after-work caffeine fix.  Donovan was
wiping down the last of the tables and Rebekah was restocking milk.
"Everything OK, Bekah?" he asked.

"Fine, Boss.  You OK?  You look... disturbed."  Rebekah said.

"I'm..."  Rusty breathed and then sighed, "I'm OK."  He smiled, but Rebekah
could tell Rusty was still chewing on something.  "There's just a lot
that's wrong with the world and sometimes it gets to me."  Rusty said.

"Tell me about it!" she said, "I guess all you can do is fix what you can
in your little corner of it.  Cheer up, Boss!  Sun's shining and you've
done good your good deed today."

Rusty smiled, genuinely. "I've said it before, what would I do without you,
Bekah?"

"Trip over your shoes and fall flat on your face, I suppose." She smiled
sweetly.

"I suppose." Rusty sighed. "So, how are we doing?"

"We're all caught up.  Oh and three customers said they really liked the
new muffins, the cranberry ones.  I had one of the lemon ones, they're good
too.  Hey, by the way Boss, where did you find that kid?  The one in the
cellar, your good deed?"  Rebekah had done the asking, but both she and
Donovan were looking at him.

"On the front door step."

Donovan snorted and Rebekah looked askance.

"No, really!  On the front step, this morning.  He didn't look like your
typical homeless tramp and it turns out he's pretty good at house repairs
and the like.  His folks kicked him out; he's been sleeping in shelters,
and some less comfortable places."

"So you took him in?  I hope you got the cash locked up and the door to
upstairs locked.  You don't know what he might do.  There are nut cases out
there, you know."  Donovan was obviously not impressed.

"It's not like that.  This guy's nice, a good worker.  He insisted on
working off the breakfast I gave him."

 "Some of these guys'd stick you and run off with the money, even after
you'd been nice to them.  Seriously, it's a crazy world out there."
Donovan slung the wet cloth over his shoulder and walked to the kitchen.

"Good deed or no, it still couldn't hurt to be cautious."  Rebekah said.

Rusty scratched the back of his head and changed the subject.  "Who's
coming in to close with Donovan?"

"Jackie is this week and before you ask, yes, I'll be here for Jazz and
Java on Friday.  I'm going to put some more posters up when I leave.  The
library said I could put one up there and Ronson's Drugs said OK too and a
couple of other places.  You need me to ask Donovan to come in early
tomorrow?" Rebekah was finished with the milk and getting ready to leave.
Rusty was again reminded of a small, red-haired whirlwind.

"No, Zach should be back tomorrow." Rusty said, hoping it was true.  He
really didn't like getting up early.  Now, waking and fucking early was
entirely different.  Rusty smiled at that thought as the first of the late
afternoon customers walked in.

- - - - - - - -

 "Who's next, Eunice?" Moose said, sticking his head inside the
receptionist's office.  The view through the large opening above the
counter showed an empty waiting room.

"Mrs. Nelson called and canceled, so you're done for the day,
Mr. Masterson."

"Really?  Cool!  Say, why don't you take the rest of the day off, too,
Eunice?  Give yourself a treat."  Moose smiled at the elderly woman who
kept his accounts in order, his appointments straight and the insurance
companies that paid his patient's bills happy.

"I really should get to those treatment forms that your young man dropped
off."  It always amused both Moose and Rusty that Eunice insisted in
calling Rusty 'your young man', even though both of them were middle aged,
with Rusty actually the elder by a year.

"They can wait until tomorrow.  Go!  It's a nice day out.  Go, work in your
garden."

"Well..."  Eunice allowed herself to be convinced.  "I did want to turn the
flower beds.  Thank you, I will." she said, now determined.  "I'll come in
a bit early tomorrow and work on those." she said, gesturing to the box of
forms.  She tidied her desk and took her coat from the hook.  "Have a good
afternoon, Mr. Masterson.  I will see you tomorrow... and thank you!"
Reaching for her purse, she walked out through the waiting room, flipped
the Open sign to Closed and shut the door behind her.

Moose followed and locked the front door, turned off the lights in the
waiting room and the treatment area and closed the hall door behind him.
The sound of a dropped wrench from below reminded him of Rusty's stray.  'I
should go down and introduce myself to him, I guess,' he thought, 'see what
he's like.'  Moose went down the stairs, automatically ducking his head so
as not to hit the top of the door frame into the cellar.

Moose was impressed; the crates had been moved, now neatly lined up along
the back and side, leaving an open area in the middle.  The brackets and
shelves were up and it looked like the young man was putting the finishing
touches on some lights under the bottom row of shelving.  Wires stuck out
of surface-mount channeling along the base of the wall closest to the
stairs and a new switch had been mounted close to the shelves.  Moose
cleared his throat.

"Uhhmmm, hello?"

Brian started and turned to the sound of Moose's voice.

"I didn't mean to scare ya." The big man smiled warmly.  "I'm Moose,
Rusty's partner.  He told me you were doing some work for us down here and
I thought I'd introduce myself."  He stuck out his large paw of a hand.  As
his enhanced sense of smell caught the scent of the guy, he felt a faint
stir in his balls.

Brian was wearing a worn Sex Pistols t-shirt, sweat circles under his arms.
He brushed his hands against his pant legs and shook hands with Moose.
"I'm Brian."

'Good strong grip,' Moose thought to himself.  "Hey, this all looks really
good!  Rusty'll be glad to have the storage space finally done down here.
We did a ton of work upstairs but somehow, we never got around to finishing
this."  Moose looked around again, nodding approval.  Looking back at
Brian, the tingle was still there, increasing if anything; and Moose was
getting a bit of a chubby, "So, you a Sex Pistols fan?"  He said looking at
and pointing to the shirt.

"Well, no, I got it in a bundle of cast offs that were handed out at one of
the shelters I stayed at.  Don't even really know who they are."  Brian
said.

"Ah, well..." Moose, never good at small talk, felt a little awkward and
there was an uncomfortable silence, the tingle still persistent.

"I want you to know I really appreciate what Rusty has done for me, uh,
Moose.  It's good to be able to do some work, instead of taking handouts.
I guess he's told you about how he found me this morning."

"Yeah, a little.  I know it's rough, finding work now, especially if you
don't already know someone.  You from around here?" Moose was looking the
young man up and down without giving away his appreciation.  'Nice looking
guy but man, he needs some meat on his bones.  He looks half starved.'  He
waited for Brian's response.

"Nah, I'm from Edmonds originally."

"Washington?" Moose asked.

The young man nodded.  "I've been working my way south, looking for work
the last few months."

"You're kinda young to be out on the streets, ain'tcha?" Moose's tone was
friendly but he wanted some solid information from this stray his mate had
taken in.  The young man's beard was full, a little long, and not at all
sparse but he still looked like he wasn't that long out of high school.
Around here, most of the homeless were considerably older.

"I was home from college when my folks kicked me out."  Brian took a deep
breath, braced for the inevitable next question.  He decided he would beat
Moose to the punch.  "They kicked me out when I told them I was gay.  They
made it clear I was dead to them and didn't want me back, so I left."  He
stood, not at all sure how this big, masculine man would take that.  Moose
sat down on the corner of one of the crates.

Moose scratched at his beard and sensing the younger man's nervousness,
decided to put his mind at ease.  "Well, now, small world isn't it?  You
can relax; I introduced myself as Rusty's 'partner' for a reason.  We've
been together for 12 years.  As lovers.  As mates."  Moose grinned.
"Whooo-ah!  You should see the look on your face.  What did you think
'partner' meant?"

Brian looked chagrined.  "I...  I thought maybe...  business partners?  I'm
sort of new to all this.  You mean you guys are married and all?"

"Yeah, I wish.  No, not legally married, that's not possible...  yet.  But
we are committed to each other and as far as we're concerned, we're as good
as married.  It's not called marriage or civil union here but we are
registered domestic partners.  This is actually one of the better states to
be gay in, legal-wise."

Brian seemed to relax a bit then.  He gestured to the lights and the new
switch.  "I'm nearly done here; I just need to connect the wires to the
wall switch there.  Can you show me where the breakers are for here, so I
can kill the power?  Will that be OK?  I don't want to knock out the whole
building."

"Or yourself." Moose said, laughing and relaxing some himself.  This guy
certainly appeared to be harmless enough.  "Sure, up the stairs, they're in
a closet, follow me."  Moose and Brian went up the stairs and Moose showed
him where the breaker panel was.  "It's marked 'Cellar', see?" Moose said,
pointing to the right breaker.  "I'm pretty sure it only kills the cellar,
nothing else.  I'm sure they'll yelp if anything dies in the coffee shop."
He turned to Brian.  "Where will you go when you're finished here?"

Brian looked down at the floor for a moment then raised his head.  "Um, I
guess I'll go to the shelter probably, if they have room tonight.
Otherwise, if there's a park close..."

Moose shook his head.  He'd been impressed with the young man's
straightforward answering of his questions and his need to work instead of
accepting charity.  He found himself liking the kid and of course, there
was that tingle that was tickling now in Moose's brain, telling him that
this kid was OK.

"No, I don't think so.  I don't know what Rusty's already said to you and
I'll talk to him about this, but I'm sure we can find a place for you to
sleep tonight.  The shelter here is small and with it still being cold at
night, I'll bet they have a crowd already.  Don't worry, we'll work
something out."

Brian's eyes had a bit of a shine to them when he looked Moose in the face
and extended his hand.  "Thanks.  I'm...  I...  I don't know what to say
except thanks.  I hate most of the shelters.  You can't really sleep in
them, you have to keep half awake all the time so as no one steals your
stuff.  I've been lucky so far, no lice or fleas, but sometimes I'd rather
just sleep on the floor than on some of those cots.  And most of them don't
have showers you can use.  Rusty gave me money to get my clothes washed and
let me shower for as long as I wanted.  Do you know how long it had been
since I could do that?"

Somehow, that simple statement made a huge impression on Moose.  He
realized that there were a great many things he took for granted in his
daily life that would be out-of-reach luxuries to Brian.

"You finish up down here.  I'll go talk to Rusty.  Don't worry, we'll work
something out."  He reached past Brian and flipped the breaker, then handed
him a battery powered lantern from the shelf above.  "Here, you'll need
some light down there, to connect your wiring."  He squeezed Brian's
shoulder and turned and headed for the Brown Bear.

Donovan looked up from the counter.  "Oh, hi, Moose!  If you're looking for
the boss, he went upstairs about a half hour ago.  Let me check, though."
Donovan didn't move but instead turned his head to holler, "Jack-eee, is
the boss back there or upstairs?" A disembodied voice hollered back from
the kitchen, "I dunno...  he's not here."  Donovan turned back to Moose,
who obviously had heard the entire exchange and said anyway, "He's not
here, so he must still be upstairs."

"Thanks."  Moose shook his head and smiled.  Donovan was a nice enough kid
but unless you were talking about the latest tech-house DJ, he was
sometimes almost willfully clueless.  He left and climbed the stairs.
Nearing the door that led to their home, Moose heard Rusty muttering, "Oh,
PRINT, you stupid machine!  Just ONCE, do what I want you to! ..."

"Problems?" he said, circling his arms around his lover's shoulders and
kissing him on the head.

"Stupid 'updated' printer driver, nothing but trouble."  Rusty poked at the
printer's paper tray.

Moose couldn't resist.  "Is it plugged in?"  Rusty gave him a sour look and
sighed, "Yes, it's plugged in.  I checked that first... doofus."  He
purposely echoed Moose's epithet, from earlier.  He smacked the printer.
Suddenly, it wheezed into life, spitting out the monthly wage and expense
report.  "Maybe it's time for a new printer."

"Well, it's a business expense, we can write it off.  Want me to ask
Rebekah what's available that's good?" Moose rubbed Rusty's shoulders,
loosening the tight muscles he found there.

"Yeah, that would be...ummmm, a little higher...good.  Ahhhhh....  keep
doing that and I'm liable to cum."  Rusty reached up and stroked Moose's
furry muscular forearms and the thick, blunt fingers that were digging into
his shoulders and neck.

Moose stopped.  "Nuh-uh.  I got other plans for that bear seed of yours."
He gave a final squeeze.

"Horny devil."

"And your point would be?"

Rusty pushed back the chair and rose.  "That I love you, you big sexy lug.
Now what do you want for supper?" The two bears padded towards the kitchen.

The second story space, spanning the entire building, had been turned into
their home.  The original support beams had been heavier than usual, as
this had been built to be the original retail store's warehouse space.  The
original store had been a general one, selling everything from grain to
iron goods and the stock was stored upstairs, heavy as well as light, with
a unique cage elevator centered along the back wall transporting the goods
downstairs as needed.  The elevator was long gone but the heavy timber
beams and bracing meant that Rusty and Moose had few constraints on how
they used the space.  They knocked out several false walls that had divided
the area and had ended up with a large open space for the kitchen and
living areas, with a large, efficient layout for the kitchen.  Rusty was
the cook in the family, so it reflected his choices and tastes.

"We could feed a small army out of here," Moose had said as the work on the
upstairs had approached the finish line.

"Well, you saw how bears eat when we were at Boris' place.  When we have
company, we'll need the space for cooking.  I hope the pantry is big
enough," Rusty had said, counting shelves for the third time.

The living room featured an assortment of sturdy couches and arm chairs
along with a freestanding wood stove.  One wall had space for two computers
and a large screen TV.  The floor and walls were well insulated, so the
wood stove was mostly for atmosphere rather than actual heating.  The
insulation served a second purpose in that it quite effectively muffled any
noise either bear might make, in bed or out.

The remaining space had been divided into two more or less equal areas.
One was Moose and Rusty's bedroom and bath, comfortably fitted with a
custom-sized bed.  The bathroom had an oversize walk-in shower with a tile
bench and multiple jet spray heads.  The other room was for guests, fitted
with two king size beds and a similar bathroom.  Between the bathrooms was
a wood paneled steam room, accessible from both baths.  "I'd like to have a
hot tub but a bear-sized one is kind of impractical up here.  This works."
Moose had said as he'd put the finishing touches on the bedroom plans.
Rusty had wisely given Moose free rein in the bedroom area.  'That way,'
he'd thought, 'he can't complain about my kitchen!'

While Moose shredded ingredients for a salad and mixed the dressing, Rusty
assembled the casserole for the oven.  Moose had always had a big appetite
but Rusty now reveled in no longer having to watch what he ate.  Not for
the first time, Rusty thought to himself that being were certainly had its
advantages, even with the unique problems it presented.  He had long since
gotten over his resentment at Moose's having changed him without his
knowledge.  Of course, Moose hadn't had any idea that he himself was
changing, morphing inexorably into a werebear, when he'd filled his lover's
ass with an especially large amount of cum one night over six years ago.
That mating had left Rusty bruised and somewhat scared, Moose remorseful,
and the both of them headed towards unknown new lives.

Moose finished the dressing.  "I'm going downstairs to tell Brian to knock
off for the evening.  If you're OK with it, I let him know he can stay the
night.  We've got that unfurnished room in the back he can use and there's
the bath and shower down there.  Damn, if he hasn't earned his daily bread
today."

"More than."  Rusty replied.

Moose turned to go downstairs but Rusty stopped him, "Love, I've been
thinking.  What if... what if we help Brian out a little more?"

"Whatcha have in mind?"

"He needs an address... he needs to get on his feet.  That's hard enough
when you have family, but his disowned him." Rusty's face darkened with the
memory of what Brian had told him, "We both know what it's like being gay
in a straight world."

"I know, I was sorta thinkin' the same thing."  Moose sighed, "He really
does seem like a nice kid.  We'll talk about it over dinner.  But we need
to let him know we're not asking him to be our love slave or house boy or
any of that."

"He told me he was almost raped once, so he's bound to be skittish... We'll
need to make sure he knows he's safe here."  Rusty continued, more to
himself than to Moose. "He'll have an address, a place to sleep, he can go
apply for work and eventually get back into college if he wants."

Moose caught Rusty in a bear hug.  "And here it's usually me who's the
softie.  I believe you've had this worked out in your mind all day haven't
you, you lil' devil?"  He smiled at Rusty.  "I love you."

"Now, what makes your think that, Norman?  Now get downstairs and tell
Brian dinner will be ready soon."  Rusty chided but smiled back at him.

Moose clomped down the stairs in a hurry singing, "We are fam-i-ly..." in a
somewhat off-key falsetto.

"I heard that!"  Rusty called down after his lumbering love.