Alpha Assignment (GL) Chapter 22 (Early Access) (Patreon)

At home, Remi woke just long enough to consent to being carried up to bed. They agreed, with Quinn perched on the corner of the bed and Remi tucked in to the chin, to wait to read Remi’s file until they’d had some rest. It’d been a long and stressful day, needing at least a weekend of recuperation.

Bright and early the next morning, Quinn was preparing ingredients and utensils for a day of baking. It was slow, methodical, and would give them plenty of time to talk over anything Remi wanted to. Plus, Remi seemed to enjoy cooking together.

Remi arrived in the kitchen just after eleven, rubbing the puffiness from her eyes and cheeks.

“Morning, Remi.” Quinn slid a glass of water across the island, dusting it with flour as it passed.

Remi accepted it with both palms and took a long sip. When she plopped the glass back down, it was empty. “Good morning, Al- Quinn.”

Quinn grinned and returned to her ingredient weighing.

“Is this a new Saturday chore?”

“No chores today, Remi. We’re going to bake some bread!”

Remi copied Quinn’s grin and dashed back upstairs to get washed and dressed.

The ingredients were all measured into containers already, that was the part Quinn was good at. The rest, she let Remi dictate. Soon, they were kneading slightly sticky dough in a comfortable silence. For one so small, Remi wasn’t struggling nearly as much as Quinn with the manual labour of hand-mixing.

“When I first arrived…” Remi recalled. “I thought you were testing me.”

Quinn’s kneading slowed. “Testing you?”

“You didn’t want to do things… the right way. I thought you wanted me to prove that I knew the rules.”

Quinn laughed quietly. “You definitely proved that.”

“I had a tummy ache most days,” Remi admitted. “Because I wasn’t sure what was worse: backtalk or failing the test.”

“Oh, Remi. There are no tests, and backtalk is encouraged.” Quinn caught Remi’s chin with a flour-coated finger, staring down into her dark eyes with all of her sincerity. “Someone needs to fill this place with noise.” When she pulled her hand back, Remi had a little white goatee.

“It’s…”

“Sterile?” Quinn suggested. “Lifeless?”

Remi shook her head. “Clean.”

“Mm.”

“Some colour would be nice.”

“I don’t want anything too bright or disturbing though, I still want to feel peaceful.” Quinn returned to her kneading with vigour.”That’s why I went all white to start with. So many choices and so much stimulation…”

A tiny hand sprinkled flour over Quinn’s dough. “Can I help?”

“With the bread or the house?” Quinn joked. The kneading was considerably easier with just that extra pinch of flour.

“The house. We could make some small changes… find something you feel relaxed with.”

“Sure.” Quinn began playing with the dough, twisting it into shapes and poking faces into the spongy surface. “I loved your painting.” When she peeked at Remi, her ears were flushed pink. “Why don’t you start with your room? Decorate it however your want. You shouldn’t feel like you’re staying in a hotel.”

“You’ve never made me feel like I’m in a hotel, Alph- I mean, Quinn.” She pulled a pair of tins to them and slotted her dough into hers. Quinn followed. “Decorating sounds fun, though. My old room… it didn’t have as much furniture as here. And it was a lot smaller. And… having my own bathroom is…” She laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “Amazing.”

Quinn laughed, too. “I know what you mean, even as an alpha I never had a private bathroom in my pack.”

“I’ve never felt so clean in my whole life.”

“Oh, it’s the best part of non-pack-life,” Quinn groaned. “Knowing everything is as clean and tidy as I left it. Never wondering if the bottom of the shower has been peed in, or if one of the puppies has wiped something on the carpet.”

“That there’s just as much soap and toothpaste as there was the last time you went to the bathroom.”

Quinn agreed with a nod and finger point. A tiny blob of dough fell off the tip. Remi caught it with incredible reflexes and popped it into her own tin.

“And the water doesn’t suddenly go cold because of power problems,” Remi added.

“Gas and electricity were the bane of my father’s life,” Quinn admitted with a sad smile and a head shake. “You’d think giving humans his money was the equivalent of giving them his blood.”

While the first round of bread baked, Quinn began divvying up ingredients again while Remi was getting herself acquainted with the wild world of website shopping. Quinn’s laptop screen almost blocked Remi from view completely, with only her topknot poking out above. It was clear she knew the basics of using a computer (most werewolves were accustomed to windows95 and maybe some ancient videogames, very few had access to the internet) but everything beyond clicking and typing was brand new information. Quinn set her up with a few tabs of online stores that sold decorative home goods and gave a quick guide for how to add items to basket. She’d return once the bread was baked to assist with checkout.

She kept the kitchen door propped open, solely to peek around the laptop at Remi and her intense concentration every few minutes. There was a lot of clicking, some incredibly slow typing, and one call for help when Remi accidentally closed the browser completely. Eventually, they had two tins of freshly baked bread, and two baskets of bits and bobs to bring some colour to Remi’s bedroom. Including 16 throw blankets that had been accidentally multiplied instead of deleted.

“We should get you some clothes, too,” Quinn mused, clicking out of the stores. “Ones made to actually fit you.”

“How do we do that?” Remi asked, leaning from her chair to Quinn’s with her elbows propped on the dining table. Her shirt, one of the new ones Quinn had picked up on her way home from work, hung open where the collar was oversized, exposing a peachy pink shoulder. Quinn swallowed the urge to bite it.

“Well, first we need to measure you.”

“I’ve never been measured before.”

Quinn climbed free of the table and dug around in her stationery drawers until she found the soft tape buried at the back. She held it up for Remi to appraise. “May I?”

Remi shrugged. That delicious shoulder winked at her.

“I’ll need you to stand in a space with enough room to spread your arms.”

Remi scurried to the living room and spread herself like a star in the centre of the carpet.

Quinn managed to restrain her laugh. “And hold very still.”

Instead of holding still, Remi held her breath. Her chest and cheeks puffed. This time, Quinn couldn’t keep the laugh in.

“Not that still, Remi, relax.”

Remi let out the breath with a ‘pah’ sound.

“I’m going to start with your arm length, okay?” It seemed like the least offensive place to measure, better to ease Remi in.

Remi nodded, and Quinn began, dragging the measuring tape lightly over Remi’s skin and thin top. She announced everything she was going to measure before she measured it, but it didn’t stop the surprise on Remi’s face when she found her breasts wrapped in the flimsy tape. Quinn pretended not to notice the small woman’s fluster to save her the embarrassment. When she got to the top of her inside leg seam, she stumbled, scrabbling at Quinn’s shoulders to keep herself upright.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fine. Thank you.”

Quinn hurried to finish, wishing her fingers could linger in their skim of Remi’s warm skin. With a notebook page filled with scribbled measurements, they returned to the laptop and shopping round two began.

They made it back to baking only once Quinn’s credit card was shaking from exhaustion in her wallet and her email inbox was flooded with confirmation messages. Poor Postie Paul was in for a busy week.