By the time Steve came back, Sam had at least wrapped a blanket around his waist. He'd anticipated the conversation that would follow, and figured that Steve would probably feel a lot more comfortable if he wasn't sitting on the couch buck-ass naked. Not to mention the questions that would be asked if any of the others walked in.

He took the mug gratefully, sipping the coffee. God, this wasn't going to be easy. "I was in this little village in Afghanistan," he began slowly. "Wasn't much of a village anymore by the time I got there. I went into this house that'd been cleared, and this skinny-ass dog leapt out of nowhere and bit me. Nothing major, I thought, so I bandaged it up and kept working. Couple weeks later, full moon rolled around, and bam. Suddenly I was a wolf." The story sounded absurd; there wasn't any way of getting around that. But it was the truth.