“The douchebag pig you dated?”
“He wasn’t a pig. He was a boar.”
“But a douchebag.”
“Yes, definitely a douchebag,” she agreed with a raising of her glass. “He finally found his balls and joined FUC like he said he was going to do.”
The Furry United Coalition was the organization that protected shifters from bad guys. It didn’t matter if the bad guys were humans or other shifters, FUC agents got in the way. At one point, a long time ago, Ben had thought about joining. He had the build and the strength, and was bull-headed enough—ha—to get through almost any situation. But being gay in a paramilitary organization just seemed like a bad idea, even if there were protections in place to guard against harassment. So he’d embraced the side of himself that was more into discussion and empathy and pushed away his tendency to charge into things head first, ramming whatever was in his way.
And look where that got him. Jobless in his prime. Having to start over, learn a brand new company, figure out how to fit in, try to make a place for himself. For however long he had there. Because who was to say he wouldn’t get laid off again? And again? HR was one of those departments that always got hit hard by cost-cutting, but Ben had thought himself safe at InnovaTech because of his performance.
But clearly performance meant dick all.
“They recruit him?” he asked.
“Nah. He applied online.”
“FUC takes applications online?” That didn’t seem very covert, but what did he know?
Didi shrugged. “Why? You interested?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m interested.” It was probably the tequila’s influence, but he suddenly felt excited. Hopeful. Maybe getting laid off was meant to be. Maybe it was a chance for him to really find himself.
He’d tried indulging the softer side of himself. Maybe it was time to explore the badass bull that lived inside his skin. If anyone had a problem with him being gay, they could find out how horny a bison bull could be.
Ben retrieved his laptop from his room while Didi refreshed their drinks. Together, they found the encrypted Furry United Coalition Newbie Academy website—okay, it took a text to Jack to get the URL and listening to Didi bitch about contacting him, but even she admitted it was all for a good cause. Ben lost count of the number of drinks he had while he filled out the questionnaire about his shifter animal, his health status, his work experience, and if he was willing to carry a firearm.
He might have put “hell yes” as the answer to that one. Enthusiasm couldn’t hurt, right?
He woke up with brightness streaming across his eyes, his cheek mashed into something hard and uncomfortable, and Didi shoving at his shoulder.
“Get it,” she whined.
“Get what?” He lifted his head and winced as his skin threatened to stay on whatever surface he’d fallen asleep on. His keyboard? Glancing at the screen, he saw a word processor document full of random letters and numbers. Five pages’ worth.
His head pounded as he tried to make sense of everything, and Didi poking his shoulder again didn’t help.
“Your phone,” she whimpered.
Oh. That was the sound he was hearing. He picked it up. Unknown caller. “Hello?”
“Mr. Beaufort?”
“Yes,” he said cautiously.
“Excellent. This is Kendra from the Furry United Coalition Newbie Academy.”
Ben pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a second before putting it back to his ear. “Jack? Is that you screwing with me?”
The caller on the other end cleared their throat. “My name is not Jack, Mr. Beaufort. I’m Kendra. Sorry, is this a bad time?”
Ben blinked. “Uh, no. No. I’m sorry, I—you’re calling from the academy?”
“FUCN’A.”
It took Ben a second to realize Kendra wasn’t agreeing enthusiastically but using the acronym of the organization. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting a call.”
“We received your application, Mr. Beaufort, and we’d like to schedule a security interview. When can you come in?”
Ben’s lips curved into a smile. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I can be there anytime.”
And that was how Ben Beaufort, bison, was recruited to FUCN’A.
2
Oliver Zuraw threw open the curtains of his third-floor instructor quarters at the Furry United Coalition Newbie Academy, his arms outstretched to welcome the bright rays of sunshine just starting to stream over the horizon.
“Goooooood morning!” he sang. He didn’t stop there, though—the beautiful sun deserved a thorough welcome. Even the thumping on the wall next to him couldn’t deter his salutation.
“For the love of god, Oliver,” Noah, the marksmanship instructor, moaned. “One morning without the screeching. Just one. Please.”
Screeching. Pfft. It wasn’t screeching—it was loud musical appreciation, and everyone should be getting up anyway. Sleeping in and getting off-schedule never helped anyone.
“Since you’re up, time for yoga!” Oliver gathered his long blonde hair into a messy bun, laughing at the exaggerated groan that reverberated through the wall. “Come on, you know you want to.”
“I really, really don’t.”
“Noah.” Oliver pulled on his yoga pants and T-shirt. “Didn’t you tell me just last week how enervated yoga at dawn makes you?”
“But—”
“‘Thanks for dragging me out of bed, Oliver.’” Oliver mimicked Noah’s deeper voice. “‘It really was worth it. You’re amazing, and I should remember that you’re always right.’”
“I never said that!”
“Close enough.”
It took some more cajoling, but eventually Noah stumbled out of his room and down to the basement gym with Oliver. It was early, but it was still odd to have the gym completely to themselves. The newest class of cadets would arrive this afternoon, and starting tomorrow, the gym would be crazy busy again. Oliver didn’t mind the noise that came with a crowd of new recruits, just like he didn’t mind the quiet of right now. You couldn’t appreciate one without the other.
He took Noah—poor, not-very-flexible Noah—through a relatively easy series of poses. Once they were done, his friend’s face was rosy and his eyes sparkled, and Oliver smiled at the transformation from barely awake grump to a beaver shifter ready to take on the world.
Or at least the breakfast line in the cafeteria.
He smirked and raised a brow. “So?”
Noah stretched as he got to his feet. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“You were right. Asshole,” Noah grumbled, but the smile let Oliver know he wasn’t angry. “Let’s go get a coffee and some breakfast. I’m about to gnaw my arm off.”
They headed up to the cafeteria on the first floor, and Oliver froze at the sight of the mob of people milling about the foyer. The jolt of surprise almost triggered his very literal flight instinct—he had to fight down the urge to let his feathers out and fly away from the startling and unexpected noise.