Too soon, Oliver was in the yoga room, watching Ben edge past the door. “Good morning,” Oliver called across the room.
Ben jerked, as though Oliver’s voice surprised him, then gave Oliver a small smile. “Hi. I mean, good morning.”
Oliver waved to the mat he’d set out for Ben, and Ben sat down, trying—and failing—to mimic how Oliver sat, with his legs crossed. Oh boy. This might be tougher than Oliver had anticipated.
Ben gave up, his legs not quite tucked together, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to and I appreciate it.”
Oliver’s smile widened. “You might not be saying that after our class.”
Ben glanced down at his legs. “Heh. Yeah. Maybe not.”
“I thought your logic was…well, obviously not perfect, but I could see where you were coming from, yesterday.”
“Yeah?” There was a hopeful tone to Ben’s voice, as though he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t crazy. Oliver was happy to provide it.
“Sure. One of the things they want recruits to do is think outside of the box. You did that. I think Simon was more pissed off that you’d wrecked his course, not at your thinking.”
“But he was right—I’m not going to be smashing through walls in the real world, or pushing cars out of the way.”
“No, but you shouldn’t dismiss the creativity you used to solve the problem that faced you. You didn’t follow expectations, and that can be a good thing.” Oliver clapped his hands, signalling the end of that conversation, and unfolded to his feet. “Let’s get started. We’ll do the Mountain Pose first.”
At first glance, the Mountain Pose didn’t seem like much—just standing. But Oliver walked Ben through extending his toes and pressing them into the mat, through imagining a string pulling his spine straight as it extended up through his head, and so on. When he felt that Ben had gotten himself good and grounded, he moved on to Downward Facing Dog, which was a little more difficult for Ben to achieve.
“Can you feel how this pose stretches your spine?”
“It’s stretching something,” Ben grunted.
Triangle Pose.
Oliver squinted at Ben’s spread legs. “A little wider.”
“This is as wide as they go.”
“You can do a little wider.”
Ben huffed, but shifted his feet out a bit more, his arms straight out to either side. “There.”
It wasn’t quite one leg’s-length, but Ben’s legs were just as long as the rest of him, so Oliver gave it a pass. “Now turn your right foot ninety degrees…lean over that leg…” He winced inwardly at the very awkward, very not-flexible picture Ben was painting right now. His face was red from exertion, his stubbly scalp damp from sweat, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa leaned further than he did.
“How’m I doing?” Ben panted. Oliver hesitated an instant too long and Ben’s expression fell. “That good, huh?”
“It’s your first class.”
Ben straightened and wiped a forearm over his brow. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he muttered.
Oliver eyed his student, then gave a decisive nod. More yoga wasn’t what the doctor ordered today. “Come on, walk with me.”
4
He led Ben outside to the walking track. The sun was barely up, and mist gathered here and there along the ground. The scent of the pine trees at the edge of the FUCN’A compound had become a fragrance that meant home and safety to Oliver—two things he’d once wondered if he’d ever find.
“I don’t need a pep talk,” Ben said after they’d been walking for a few minutes. “I called my sister last night, and she gave me one. This is all just…so different.”
“Second career?” Oliver guessed.
“I was in HR before. Got laid off.”
Oliver almost exclaimed his disbelief—with a body like that, he was in HR?—but restrained himself. “Going from HR to FUC…that’s a big leap.”
“So I’m discovering.” Ben shot Oliver a quick grin. “But I really do like it. I think I can make a difference with FUC, you know? It’s just tough, coming up against obstacles I didn’t anticipate.”
“No pun intended.”
Ben laughed, and Oliver’s stomach sank. Oh no. Ben had an awesome laugh—low and deep and rumbly, as though he was letting out emotions he felt in the core of his being. It tugged at Oliver, wanting him to give in, to smile or laugh in return, and that was just bad.
He cleared his throat. “So, uh, the other courses?”
“Are they giving me trouble? No. Actually, I think I’m doing really well in all of them. And never in a million years did I think that physical fitness would be the skill set giving me issues.” He cast Oliver a sidelong glance, opened his mouth, closed it, and finally burst out, “How the hell are you so flexible?”
“You sound like you’re accusing me of something.”
“I—I’m not. It’s just…how?”
“I’m a whooping crane.”
“A what?”
“A whooping crane. It’s a bird.”
“I know a crane is a bird, but the only whooping I know is whooping cough.”
Oliver squinted. “Funny. I’ve never heard that before.”
Ben had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Oliver sighed and peeled off his shirt. “Here. Hold this.”
“I—what the—” Ben sputtered but let Oliver drape his shirt over his outstretched hand. His eyes widened as Oliver stripped off his pants next. “Uh, seriously, you don’t have to—”
Oliver tossed his underwear at Ben, and shifted.
It felt good to be in his feathers again. Despite working for FUC, he didn’t get enough chances to stretch his wings. They wanted him for his human knowledge and flexibility, after all. He used his long, sharp beak to reposition a couple of his flight feathers, surreptitiously looking at Ben to gauge his reaction.
“You’re…tall.” Ben blinked. “Like, really tall.”
If Oliver had his human lips, he’d tell Ben that whooping cranes were the tallest birds in North America, thank you very much. He arched his neck and let out a bugle.
Ben winced. “Holy shit, and loud.”
Oliver fluffed up his feathers with pride. Yes, yes he was. He shifted back to his human form and grinned as Ben shoved his clothes at him. “So there. Now you know what a whooping crane is. Don’t forget.”
“Right. Okay, sure. I won’t. Uh…yeah.” He coughed. “So, my classes.”
Oliver chuckled softly to himself as he pulled on his pants. Typically in a shifter show-and-tell, there was some reciprocation…but asking Ben to shift might make the poor guy even redder in the face than he currently was. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I think I’m enjoying the investigative skills one the most. It’s analytical thinking—which I did all the time in my HR role. Trying to determine why a specific department was seeing turnover, trying out methods to retain employees, and so on. Now it’s taking those problem-solving skills and putting them up against new puzzles. It’s awesome.”