Dean

I came home to find the kitchen filled with smoke.

Standing by the hobs amid the white fog was a towel-clad Bas armed with a spatula. There was a bowl of fried sausages and another overflowing with stirred eggs on the kitchen counter next to him. He poured the contents of one frying pan in the first bowl as I was waving the smoke away en route to him.

I was considering slapping his ass and saying, 'Morning, honey,' when I went into a coughing fit, giving my presence away. The window was open but that clearly wasn't enough to make the air in the kitchen breathable. Had we had a smoke detector, it would have gone nuts.

"Hey," he greeted me before refocusing on the next batch of sausages. "How was your shift?"

"Uneventful." I coughed some more. "You prepping a mystery stripper show for our sweetie?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I went to stand on Bas' other side, where I was closer to the window as well as to the food for an entire army that he had produced. "Well, you're half-naked and using the cooking area for an improvised stage fog machine."

He grunted and kept cooking.

"However, I doubt Samantha will appreciate your pecs and abs if in this poor visibility you accidentally put the wrong sausage in the pan."

That won me a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Worry about your weenie, Dean. Samantha has ten more minutes to sleep so I chose the window over the noisy extractor fan. Which wouldn't be so noisy had you fixed it last week, as agreed."

"Damn, rub it in my face why don't you..."

I eyed the top sausage in the bowl but kept my hands to myself. I wouldn't succeed in grabbing it without my hand getting smacked with the hot spatula. Hungry or not, I had to obey the house rules of good table manners imposed by Bas the Neat Freak. Because though he sometimes went overboard when it came to order and cleanness at home, his quarks had their perks.

Like on those occasions where I was too lazy to clean after myself right away, Bas picked my discarded clothes up from the floor and threw away the empty packs of snacks littering the coffee table. I could always count on him to not stand the disarray for more than a day.

My pal, a dream-come-true housewife, heheh...

"I'll fix the extractor fan by the end of next week." Hopefully, Bas would have repaired it himself by then. "Now turn it on, please, because rattling or not, it will keep us and our sleeping beauty from suffocating."

"I'm done with the cooking, we'll live," Bas announced as he turned off the hobs. "Go take a quick shower now."

"But I need to set the table–"

"I'll do it – this time only! Don't get any ideas."

I snickered. "Don't worry, I know the drill." On weekends, the one of us coming home from a night shift was in charge of setting the table, the other – well-rested – one got cooking and washing duty. The joy.

"Scurry off now, Dean." He shooed me with the spatula.

"What's the rush? Samantha is still sleeping and you have more than an hour until your enforcer duties with Isabel and Janine."

He leaned in and whispered, "I have a surprise planned. Something to make our mate laugh. Get her flushed as well."

"You..." I studied his expression: the perpetual scowl was missing. Also, he was planning stuff the likes of which were my specialty. "You my pal or an alien clone from Body Snatchers?"

He scoffed. "Quit joking around. Shower in my bathroom and join me in a towel only. And keep it well fastened."

"No flashing the goodies yet, got it."

Bas grinned at my joke.

Yeah, he was definitely an alien clone.

Actually, that would explain why Samantha had agreed to spend the night in our place. Bas had given me no details in his text message last night, but the fact that he had managed to put her at ease enough to get her to come here... My pal wasn't that smooth. Or had I underestimated the effect of his Grumpy Bear charm on our fated mate?

The two of us should definitely discuss what I had thought about last night, then. With Bas and I both having made progress with Samantha, it made sense to offer her a joint marking when she was ready. That way there would be no competition between our inner animals who would be the first to mark her.

Of course, we had to include Eric in the discussion, too. Which required us to find him. Which, in turn, required Bas and I to have a conversation about Eric's text message from last night, the actions I had taken upon receiving it, and the need for my pal to accept the Omega. No way was Bas getting accepted by Samantha if he put her third fated mate behind bars.

But that unpleasant talk had to wait until after breakfast. I couldn't think straight when hungry and faced with my fated mate's tempting curves.

"See you in a wet jiffy," I told Bas and waved him - and the smoke in the kitchen - goodbye.

One quick hot shower later, I returned to a smoke-free kitchen where the smell of sausages was strong enough to make me groan in anticipation.

"Sit and eat," Bas instructed me as he tightened the towel around his hips, having just finished setting the table for three. "I'll go tell Samantha through the door that she is running late. I told her last night breakfast is from 7 to 8:30 and that sleepyheads get no breakfast here."

I winced. "This was her fist official night here, pal, can't you make an exception for her from the house rules? Also, if she is not a morning person like the two of us, waking her up now might ruin the effect of the Chippendales show you've got planned." The text from Eric by itself was bad enough to ruin her mood, so... "How about we let our sweetie sleep for thirty more minutes?"

Bas grunted but sat at the table. "Put some food in your plate so that we can place the lids back on and keep the rest warm for Samantha."

I smiled. "That's the spirit!... Speaking of rules, there is something we need to discuss while we're still alone. Just put some protein in your belly first. I don't want you a hungry grump for this conversation."

Unfortunately, getting sausages in him first didn't do the trick. Once I showed him the message from Eric and told him how I had acted upon it, Bas got growly.

"You shouldn't have sent him a single penny, Dean!" he rumbled while I was putting the dishes in the sink. "Let alone ask our contacts there to investigate for you!"

"But I promised Samantha–"

"You promised her to try and find the Omega if he didn't call," Bas kept going as he came to stand beside me by he sink. "But he did send a message. You should have simply shown it to her so that she would see for herself that common thug doesn't deserve her."

"But the text message sounds strange, Bas, you can't deny it."

"It sounds fucking clear to me. The Omega doesn't really want our fated mate. I say good riddance."

I groaned. "And I say we bring this investigation to the very end. This is the only change for Samantha to get closure. She won't forgive us otherwise."

"Forgive you for what, guys?"

Bas and I both turned towards the entrance. Standing there in one of my extra large T-shirts that covered her to mid-thigh, was Samantha. With her tousled hair and a pillow imprint on one rosy cheek, she looked good enough to eat.

She also looked pissed.