One Bed - A Rick and Dante Short

A few months ago, after I'd finished Baptism by Fire, I decided to write few fluffy shorts for fun. Some were based on challenges in my writing group. Others were "what if" prompts from my own head. None of them were long enough to publish.

My solution? To share them here to my blog, as special content for my subscribers. You don't need to have read Baptism by Fire to enjoy the shorts, but if you haven't you might want to read my blog post about it to get a feel for the characters.

"One Bed" Came out of a discussion in a writing group about the popular romance trope where a couple "accidentally" discovers they're stuck in a hotel room with only one bed and have to make the best of it. It's usually played for laughs or to force the characters to face some awkward sexual tension. Since I was one of the few people in the discussion NOT writing romance, I thought it would be funny to flip the story and have Rick and Dante fighting over the FLOOR rather than the BED. So here is Rick and Dante's version of the "one bed" trope.

“Oh, nope.” Rick took one look at the single king-size bed in the middle of the hotel room and threw his duffel bag at the nearest chair.

“It’s Indianapolis on Memorial Day weekend, apparently it’s the only room in a fifty mile radius.” Dante shrugged and started unpacking his suitcase into the closet. “It’s no big deal. PNI expects its agents to room together for financial reasons anyway.”

“It’s not that. It’s that you have a normal body temperature of like a hundred forty.” Rick was tired, sore, and irritable. Arguing with his partner over sleeping arrangements was pretty low on his list of priorities. "We just spent the last four hours walking around in eighty-six degree weather. I'll take the floor, thanks."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bulldog. I can take the floor." Dante gently folded his underclothes into one of the drawers, then stood to give Rick a critical look. "You took a couple really hard hits in that brawl."

"So did you."

"I resurrected. It doesn't count." Dante crossed the room, drew himself to full height, and threw out his chest as if he was trying to be intimidating. "I also out rank you."

"Rank has nothing to do with this and you don't scare me." That wasn't entirely true. Sometimes Dante was terrifying. Standing there like a puffed up peacock was not one of those times. "I have like fifty pounds on you."

"Size doesn't matter." Dante gestured a gloved hand. "Besides, when we fought before–"

"We tied. And now I know your weakness." Rick grinned a bit meanly.

"A left to the liver?" Dante's own smile wavered uncertainly.

"Cheap clothes. I'm the keeper of your spare outfit. Do you know how easy it would be to switch it out?"

"You wouldn't."

"I hear Walmart is having a clearance sale."

With an indignant squawk, Dante spun and tore the comforter from the bed and threw it at Rick. Rick caught it easily and gathered it into a ball in his arms, but the pillow Dante aimed at his head caught him full in the face.

"Good night, Peacock," Rick said with exaggerated sweetness. "Sleep well."