Work Text:
“I’m home! Where’s my favourite boy?”
Chilchuck did not have to look very long. A bark sounded from the end of the house, followed by familiar thuds getting closer and closer, until he was nearly knocked over by a huge ball of energy.
“Woah! Down, boy.” He shoved Laios’ head to get his personal space back and swept his fingers through ashy blond hair, running the tips of blunt nails against his scalp. Only after a few aggressive caresses did his puppy ease up, retreating until only his head bumped his master’s thighs. “You wanted pets so badly you forgot you could crush me? Huh, big boy?”
The dog whined and pushed against the hand on his head to get even more pets. “Shh, I know, I know. I’m happy to see you too, but your snacks will go bad if you don’t let me go and we don’t want that, do we? Why don’t you wait for me by the couch? Then you’ll get all the cuddles.”
It took some convincing, but eventually the pet shuffled away towards the living area, sniffling sadly all the way. What a big baby, as if it’d take more than a couple minutes. Chilchuck quickly put away the groceries and returned to his beloved companion, who panted happily at his arrival, tongue lolling out.
Parked on his rear at the bottom of the couch, he watched his master get comfortable, curling up on one end and sitting up against the armrest. Chilchuck tucked his legs under himself and looked down at him. His pet blinked back rapidly and expectantly, and his master waited, just to see what he'd do, but the dog simply sat there, patient as can be.
“Good boy.” Chilchuck tapped the cushion. “Hop on.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. Careful not to put too much weight on his master’s legs, he settled down with his head on his flat stomach, and sighed like he’d gotten to heaven. His behind wiggled with his contentment as he rubbed his cheeks and muzzle against his master’s shirt until it rode up.
Chilchuck chuckled at his eagerness. “My good, clingy puppy. Did you miss me?” He scratched the short hair behind his ear. “Your Papa missed you…”
The world around them disappeared and the two floated in this odd little world of theirs: handler and pet, lying together, appreciating each other’s warmth.
Laios was always so at ease in his puppy headspace. He got this glint in his eyes that reflected calm and peace, and when his gaze glazed over and he was deep, deep in his animalistic mind, it was like nothing could reach him. Nothing but Chilchuck’s voice and touch and attention. He was not an agitated person, but he never looked more serene than at his feet or in his lap, more dog than human. Ever since they had started doing this on the regular—after Chilchuck's 9 to 5 or on Laios’ days-off from his part-time job, depending on their availability—he had gotten much more relaxed overall. Clearly, it was doing him a lot of good.
He’d once asked Laios what it was specifically about this kind of play that satisfied him so much.
“Being a person can be suffocating at times... There are so many rules you have to follow—none of that applies to animals. You can lie there, not speak, not look at anyone, and no one bats an eye. In fact, people come to you with a smile. You can bark and growl and bite, and it’s bad but– it’s not weird, it’s expected. I get to do all those things and not be judged for it.”
He got that, his need to not be judged. Laios was often misunderstood and shunned without being given a chance to explain himself. But to abandon one’s humanity, become some creature bound by its primal needs… That sounded scary. The pay-off had to be worth it, right?
“It’s so worth it. It’s super freeing. You don’t expect a dog to go above and beyond. It’s just a dog: a dog who does dog things. You give it clear instructions and it does them. I barely have to think about anything.”
Barely having to think… Wouldn’t that be great? Chilchuck tended to overthink, make up all kinds of worst-case scenarios that would hold hostage the rest of his day and haunt him at night. What he would give to not have to think for an hour, let alone a minute…
“You don’t seem to be thinking much when I have my mouth on you.”
“No– It’s an exaggeration. I meant that I wonder how it’d feel to not be in my head for the greater part of the day.”
“What’s stopping you? I can be your handler.”
“What? No, you’re my pet. I handle you.”
“I can be both. I can do that for you.”
“That’s not what– I’m not trying to– Laios, this isn’t our dynamic. I’m your master and you’re my puppy. That’s what we are, that’s what we do.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that, though… You don’t always have to be in control. You know that, right?”
“Of course, I know. It’s just what works for me.”
And it did. He loved taking care of Laios, telling him where and when to sit, when to eat, petting him, giving him baths… He loved to make decisions for Laios, because Laios had given him permission to decide for him. This willing delegation of his right to think and choose for himself, gently placed in the palm of Chilchuck’s hand, a treasure to be cherished. The puppy headspace was more than a safespace for Laios to simply be, it was a show of vulnerability, an act of trust.
Chilchuck trusted him, too. With his life. So maybe…
“I can do that for you.”
Maybe Laios could really do that for him. If he allowed it.
When he brought up the idea again, months after their first talk, Laios’ eyes lit up like twin stars.
“It would be my honour to be your handler,” he said with a solemn nod.
Chilchuck poured black coffee in his World’s Only Dad Ever mug. “You don’t gotta be so serious about it.”
“It is a serious thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he insisted, and Laios understood that he was likely embarrassed about it and would shut down if he pushed.
So Laios relented and redirected, “What animal were you thinking of?”
“Um…” Truth be told, he hadn’t thought that far. “I guess I could be a dog…?”
“You’d be a cute pup, but you don’t give me dog vibes.”
Chilchuck frowned, trying not to let show how affected he was at being called cute. Laios was probably thinking of a chihuahua anyway. “Is that something you’ve thought about before, what animal vibes I give off?”
“I think most people give off animal vibes. Falin’s an otter, Marcille’s a duck…”
“A duck? Oh, she would love to hear that.”
“Izutsumi’s self-explanatory, but if you ask me, she’d be a great raccoon. Senshi’s a groundhog, Kabru is tricky, but he reminds me of a—”
“You haven’t told me mine.” That made the tallman pause. Interesting. “Is it because you think I won’t like it?” More silence. “Ah, let me guess… I remind you of a mouse.”
“Chil—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you thought of a rat, I’ll gut you. What about a squirrel, ever thought of that? A chipmunk? Yeah, I bet you did...”
Laios gobbled down more eggs and sausages, so he wouldn't put his foot in his mouth instead. Chewing gave him an excuse to consider his words. “They did cross my mind—”
“Uh-huh.”
“—but eventually I came up with something totally different,” he finished, brows furrowed in a combined defensive and apologetic look. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to…”
“Kidding. I know you didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you know…” With all the stereotypes about half-foots, it was hard not to take offense at rodent comparisons. “Forget it. What did you end up with?” he asked, pushing past his discomfort for the sake of their conversation. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Laios seemed too uncomfortable to continue at first, then he said, “I don’t want to influence you.”
“You could never,” Chilchuck said with utter confidence, almost mocking. When Laios said nothing still, he scoffed. “So it really is a rodent…”
“It’s not a rodent,” Laios answered immediately. He did not want any misunderstanding or hurt feelings between them.
Surprise (and relief) showed on Chilchuck’s face. “It’s not? What is it then?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t want to influence you.” Before he could protest, Laios cut in, “I’d rather you find out your inner animal first, then we can see if my take was right or not.”
“Hah! All right, I see where this is going. I bet you think you’ve got me figured out.”
“What? I don’t—”
He faltered as Chilchuck threw his hot coffee back, eyes zeroing in on the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulped it down all too easily. It reminded him of his nonexistent gag reflex—all of a sudden, Laios felt a little too warm under the collar for ten in the morning. The sound of the porcelain mug hitting the table dragged his mind out of the gutter.
Wiping his mouth, Chilchuck smirked and pointed a finger. “Fine, I’ll try it just so I can prove you wrong.”
Laios blinked. “Okay?”
How exactly had they gotten into a bet without wager? Nonetheless, he was excited by this new prospect. He wondered how that would affect the way they saw each other. He’d always admired Chilchuck’s straightforward, no-nonsense attitude. During the course of their relationship’s development and with the introduction of petplay, his view of him had transformed from something cold and professional to something more caring, protective and reliable. Would switching roles change Chilchuck again? Would he be more affectionate? Would he– oh! Would he be more vocal when they…
“Hm, but I don’t think we’ll be trying today.”
Chilchuck’s voice snapped Laios out of his haze. He was looking at him with dark, half-lidded focused eyes. “I believe this puppy’s having dirty, nasty thoughts…” Slowly he stood up from his chair, rounding the table on light feet, dragging lithe fingers across the surface until he stood by him, their bodies pressed close. “Well, he’s in luck”—he fisted the collar of his pyjama shirt—“His master is in quite the indulging mood.”
This felt kind of stupid.
How could it be freeing to cede all of your wants and needs to someone else? How could they possibly know how to satisfy them better than you did? How were they supposed to know what you wanted or needed in the first place?
Laios told him he couldn’t speak, that it wouldn’t be very animalistic to be speaking with words. “What if I’m a parrot?” he joked, but the blond didn’t find it funny.
“No speaking for now, okay? Let’s try for real.”
Chilchuck had this urge to cuss him out in every language he knew, so he would no longer have need for words for the rest of the day. But he didn’t. He had already made enough of a fuss earlier this week, when they had tried it out for the first time.
“I’m not getting on my knees,” he had said.
They were establishing ground rules. As a pet, Laios was a very enthusiastic dog: always happy to please and very receptive to punishment, but he was not to be treated like a punching bag. He did not want to be slapped, kicked or insulted on his intelligence. Above all, he was a good, smart dog. In his puppy headspace, he was too fragile to tell apart playful snark from genuine barbs.
That was why Chilchuck had said this. His first ground rule as a pet: No crawling.
Of course, Laios hadn’t questioned it. He was always so understanding.
He’d replied, “You don’t have to.” A totally normal phrase.
But Chilchuck hadn’t heard those words. Old experiences— bad experiences—had taken the innocent words and replaced them with something less so.
He’d heard: “You’re already beneath me.”
And he knew Laios would never ever say or mean anything like this, but the creeping cold it induced in his heart was too painful to bear, so they had given up on their play until Chilchuck felt ready to pick it up again.
He felt better now, ready, and they agreed he was free not to crawl on his hands and knees.
Besides that, he was not free to do much else.
“What do you mean I can’t use the fridge?” he asked, holding the door open.
“We said no talking.”
“Yeah, well, pause.” Chilchuck placed his hands on top of each other perpendicularly, and Laios nodded in approval. “What do you mean I can’t?”
“Are you some kind of primate?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have opposable thumbs?”
“I’m not a monkey,” he answered curtly. That was a touchy spot, too.
“Right,” Laios quickly agreed. “Are you an octopus?”
“What’s the link between a monkey and an octopus?”
“Both can open doors.”
“So if I’m neither a monkey or octopus–or something with a strong jaw or paws,” he reiterated, “I can’t get anything from the fridge.”
“Realistically, no.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Then what am I supposed to do? Starve?”
Laios smiled at his theatrics. “Do you let me starve?”
It finally clicked for him. “Oh…” Hesitantly, he pushed the door of the refrigerator shut. “How do I…let you know I’m hungry?”
“I don’t know, how would you like to let me know?” Chilchuck didn’t know what to answer. There were too many options. “How about this: how do you know when I’m hungry?”
“You make this sad face,” he instantly answered, “You lean on the fridge door and you whine and howl pitifully until I come to feed you. Usually though, I follow the schedule I set for you.” Without that, Laios would beg for food all of the time, and that would cost a lot in groceries.
“Would you like a schedule too?”
“Hell no.”
“Hm, thought so.” Laios slowly nodded. “Since we’re talking: are you hungry right now?”
“Not really.” Chilchuck looked to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what I could prepare for dinner later…” He knew that was a silly move on his part, seeing as he was the pet and Laios was the master. He was just going on autopilot, so used to their previously established roles.
“Leave that to me! I’m supposed to be taking care of you, after all.”
Laios opened the refrigerator again and looked inside. He went silent for a long minute.
“I, uh… I ate the last of the leftovers yesterday.”
Chilchuck crossed his arms. “Uh-huh?”
“It's- it’s okay! Leave it to me, I’ll, uh—”
“Our play is paused, so why don’t we cook together? It’ll be faster.” Chilchuck squeezed himself into the gap between the kitchen island and the open door of the refrigerator to check what ingredients they had. “Safer, too.” Too many times had the tallman nearly lost a finger using his own hand as a cutting board or handling freshly heated oven food without mitts.
Laios slumped over. “Deal, but as soon as the food is done, you’re my pet again.”
That had no business making Chilchuck as flustered as he was. “Fine. Deal.”
A quarter to an hour later, dinner was served: beef and mushroom stir-fry. It smelled delicious and awakened in Chilchuck an appetite he didn’t know he had until just now. He remembered he had a bottle of wine in a cupboard somewhere with a bouquet that would pair wonderfully with the beef, and grabbed a chair to get it when Laios intercepted.
“Can I help?”
“Yeah, could you get that wine in the left cupboard up there?”
“Nope.”
“What?” Chilchuck frowned. “Why?”
Laios snatched the chair out of his grip and placed it back where it was. Like stealing candy from a child. “Animals don’t drink.”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“They don’t curse either.”
“What’s next? ‘They don’t eat at the table?’” Chilchuck grumbled, hopping onto his seat. Laios walked to his chair deliberately slow, making a subtle face that Chilchuck still picked up on. “...Shut up. Don’t answer that.”
“It's just that, well, you give me my food in a bowl—”
“Because you asked for it! You said you like it!” He also liked to see Laios debase himself in such a way, slurping food out of his bowl sloppily, mess running down his chin—but that was beside the point.
“I do. That’s why I won’t make you eat on the floor, because you don’t like it.”
“Thank God.” With that settled, Chilchuck made a grab for his fork and knife and came up empty. “Huh? Where are my utensils?” He stared at Laios, who was moving his chair closer to him until there would barely be any space between them. “Laios.”
“Chil…”
“Laios.”
“You don’t have opposable thumbs.”
“Goddammit.”
He'd really sold out his Saturdays to get bossed around by a guy his daughters’ age. Fanfuckingtastic.
Dinnertime lasted way longer than usual. Laios had to not only feed himself, but Chilchuck as well, and he was not making it easy. He had to be forced into accepting every spoon and when he did, chewed with his mouth open, practically snarling, for way too long until the food turned to bland putty in his mouth and he was too grossed out to swallow. It was until Laios said, “Come on, baby, don’t waste our good food,” that he gave in and ate a bit faster.
That night, as they prepared for bed, Laios asked, “Gig yu hayek?”
“What?” Chilchuck asked from the bed, where he sat up by the headrest with some work documents in his lap. “Speak normally.”
Laios stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom, pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth. “Did you hate it? Being a pet? You didn’t seem very into it.”
“I don’t…” Chilchuck sighed, putting the papers aside. “I don’t hate it… It’s just– I didn't expect it to feel so weird? I thought it would be easy.”
“It should release something in you, not trouble you. Don’t force yourself if you’re not enjoying it.”
Chilchuck let the words linger in the air, got himself to really think about his day and how he had experienced it. It gave Laios time to finish brushing his teeth and join him in bed. “I’m not forcing myself,” he assured. “I guess it requires some getting used to. I can’t give up after one session.”
Laios grabbed his pillow and fluffed it roughly. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.”
“I know.” Once his boyfriend settled down, Chilchuck scooted closer until their arms touched. “It’s also a good way for me to see from your perspective. It’s scientific, really.”
“You know, you can always make things easier on yourself by making up a creature, like a parrot with opposable thumbs and—”
“I think this is something the girls would call ‘cringe.’”
Chuckling, Laios leaned his head on top of Chilchuck’s head and said, “If it’s anything, I kinda liked it.”
“Yeah?” he scoffed. “You liked babying me into eating my vegetables?”
“Mhm, I did. Let’s do this again next week.”
“Pfft, weirdo.” He tilted his head to lock their lips in a sweet kiss. When they parted, he was looking at his tall, blond, idiot of a lover with adoring eyes. “Goodnight, Laios.”
The adoration was mirrored in his amber eyes. “Night, Chil.”
Chilchuck focused back on his documents and Laios fished his journal and pencil out of the bedside table, and they did their own separate things under dim light until exhaustion caught up to either of them.
Chilchuck was a difficult pet.
He was constantly grouchy, he didn’t follow orders and purposefully defied them, and he threw fits. He was not polite, he did not show gratitude and he hid for hours, as if actively avoiding his master. Laios had no doubt that if he had been found in a shelter, they would have labelled him as Anxious and Aggressive. In many ways, he acted just like a rescue.
Yes, he was quite difficult, and Laios loved that about him.
His roughness meant that he required a delicate approach. Like a starving, feral cat who couldn't trust a friendly human, not even while handed a morsel of fish. He had to be gentle, so he wouldn’t spook Chilchuck. More than gentle, even, for the gentleness alone was what precisely scared him.
Depending on someone was not something Chilchuck was comfortable with and it showed more with every session of this new play. They only ever did it once a week for half a day at most. A few hours of Laios tending to his needs and Chilchuck acting like that made him the biggest victim of all time.
“What’s wrong with it? You like it,” Laios tried to reason, rotating the green grape between his fingers. “I even got you cheddar.”
Chilchuck turned his head away with a huff, refusing the grape.
He’d gotten good at foregoing human language, instead expressing everything he meant through body language alone. Sure, he rarely communicated anything positive, but Laios didn’t mind. It was fascinating to him, all the different ways Chilchuck found to tell him to go fuck himself without using his words. Sometimes, like now, he gave him the cold shoulder. Other times, he would bite.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
Laios sucked on his thumb and frowned at Chilchuck. He could’ve sworn he saw amusement shine in those brown eyes. “Meanie.”
Chilchuck clacked his teeth twice.
He was not very vocal, but when he was particularly peeved, he would hiss or growl. When he felt like biting, he would clack his teeth. Loudly. Like a warning. His bite hurt, but his teeth were so small, and he never bit with the intention to cause serious damage, so Laios wasn’t very scared to put his fingers near his mouth. It was routine by now. Plus, he preferred hand-feeding over spoon-feeding because it felt more intimate. He liked the warmth of his breath, the warning brush of angry teeth, the occasional playful tongue… He had a feeling Chilchuck was being difficult on purpose, just to keep him on his toes.
He also had a feeling that Chilchuck loved to push his buttons, so that Laios was forced to handle him with a firmer hand.
He brought the grape to his mouth again and predictably, Chilchuck clacked his teeth. “Hey! Stop.” He tried again and narrowly missed getting his fingers caught. “I said stop. No more biting.”
There was a look in those deceitfully big round eyes that told Laios he would do it again. That would not stand.
“If you try that again, I’m going to do something you won’t like.”
The only response was a twitch from his big ears and his nose scrunching up. It was very cute, but Laios kept a neutral front. He had to be stern right now.
“You’re going to take that next bite without taking one out of me too,” he ordered, then couldn’t help but tack on, “Please.” It was stronger than him.
Chilchuck gave a slow blink but otherwise didn’t make a face or clack his teeth in warning. He might actually obey this time. Feeling hopeful and stupidly brave, Laios placed in his palm one more grape and a diced cheese, and held them to Chilchuck's mouth.
The pet did nothing for a long second, only staring down the offering. Then something close to a smirk flashed on his face and he opened his mouth wide, canines and molars in view, and—
He was pulled off his seat and into Laios’ lap in a swift motion, only managing a quiet gasp when a sharp slap was delivered to the side of his thigh, below his hip. It hadn't been too harsh, but the sting made his skin tingle. Gently, Chilchuck was moved so he was held against a firm torso, head in the crook of an elbow and legs dangling across a solid pair of thighs. His face was beet red, his ears were twitching, and his eyes had gotten so big and round, the rich brown looking much darker from his blown out pupils. He’d gone immobile, frozen solid with shock.
Seeing his chance, Laios dropped the food in his open mouth. Chilchuck simply held it on his tongue, blinking up at him like his world had been flipped upside down, which wasn’t very far from the truth.
“I warned you,” Laios said and lightly pinched the spot he’d slapped. “Now eat.”
Obediently, his pet closed his mouth and chewed. The rest of the grapes and cheddar was devoured in minutes. After Laios praised him for it, Chilchuck scrambled out of his lap and disappeared in a corner of the house until playtime was over.
Beside the hissing and growling and clacking, Chilchuck was a quiet pet. He did not cry for attention, and when he needed something, he would usually tap whatever surface was closest. When he wanted to enter a room with a closed door, he smacked it with his open palm or with a closed fist until Laios opened it for him. Sometimes, he really wanted something inside the room. Other times, all he wanted was to bother Laios for a moment. On the rare occasion that he was hungry and would ask for food himself—instead of his master noticing an unusual sluggishness in his movements—he would hit the refrigerator repeatedly and hiss. It begged the question of why he would demand food so moodily if he knew that meant he’d get handfed, which he supposedly hated.
Supposedly, yes, because ever since Laios had gotten his pet to sit in his lap instead of at the table, like a person, dinnertime had significantly improved in quality. Chilchuck still let his teeth get actively involved in the whole process, but it was less fueled by angry and more out of playfulness. With proper coaxing, he accepted food more readily, and the vicious bites turned to nibbles. Like he had to bite on principle, but agreed to be nicer about it. A compromise. His cheeks were rosy for the entirety of it and when Laios cooed at him, Chilchuck would hide his blush in Laios’ chest, although his flushed ears betrayed him. For his part, Laios loved getting to hold him close, to cradle his small body. It felt good. It felt right.
And in his giddiness, he had overstepped, and his pet was loudly expressing his discontentment over it.
See, Laios had made the mistake of believing that since Chilchuck seemed to like being in his lap, then he would be fine with being picked up.
Laios had been wrong.
Chilchuck had looked so serene a moment earlier. He had decided to tag along to Laios’ marathon of his favourite rare cryptids documentaries. Laios had gone to prepare some popcorn and had come back in time to see Chilchuck go from kneeling on the couch to flopping on his side with a content hum. His body was so light it barely disrupted the cushions and he lay there, softly breathing, sleepy-eyed, a whisper of a smile on his face… Calm and cosy and cute. Instantly enamoured, Laios had the urge to grab him, just hold him to his chest and squeeze until he squeaked.
So he stepped forward, put his arms around Chilchuck's smaller body and lifted him up.
He really shouldn’t have done it.
The first thing Chilchuck did was go stiff as a board. Then, as if on instinct, his legs kicked. Kicked and kicked and kicked, until his knee met Laios’ tender side and he was released. From that height, the fall was significant enough that his body bounced twice as he landed on the couch and there was only a beat of stillness before he hopped off of it, planted his feet on the ground and started stomping.
The last time he had thrown a fit this bad, Laios had tried to put him in a little outfit.
Laios felt bad, not only because the stomping was usually a sign that Chilchuck was restraining from actually cursing and hitting him, but because it was unreasonably adorable. If the half-foot knew how he looked when he did this, he would likely never be doing it.
(It was pretty loud, too. Good thing this was a house and not an apartment complex. The complaints they would have gotten…)
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to spook you, I just wanted to hold you! I should’ve asked, I know. Please calm down, you could hurt yourself.”
Chilchuck hissed when Laios tried to get closer and stomped away, retreating into the farthest corner of the living room and crouching there.
After all the efforts that had brought them to spending time on the couch together, his pet was once again giving him the cold shoulder.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t stay mad at me.”
Chilchuck stayed mad at him for a while. He didn’t move an inch from the corner, sometimes stomped the ground with one foot and went back to his motionless, cold anger. Laios couldn’t even enjoy his documentaries. He paused after the second, because he was hardly paying attention. The anxiety was tying stomach into knots. He really didn’t want this to ruin their night.
Short of saying their safeword, Laios called out, “Chil? Are you actually mad at me?”
He didn’t reply, stubbornly facing away, and Laios worried that he had truly messed up. Chilchuck never liked to be picked up, ever. It wasn’t an excuse to try it just because they were playing and his boyfriend was his pet right now, no matter how loveable.
There was a quiet shuffle to his side and he startled, seeing Chilchuck crouched at his feet, glaring up at him with his nose scrunched and brows furrowed. Oh, he was upset all right. But to Laios’ surprise and with impressive grace, he jumped onto the couch next to him then right into his lap. He squirmed until he found an optimal position—tucked under his chin, arms curled to his chest and legs folded on Laios’s thighs—and tenderly nuzzled his master’s collarbones.
Laios swallowed a gasp. This was unprecedented. Unless he was wrestled into it, Chilchuck never cuddled like this. He never initiated it.
Proceeding with caution, Laio moved to wrap his arms around him, but Chilchuck growled, teeth snapping.
Oh, so he had lost his privilege to touch, but he could still get cuddles. Fair! More than fair. Far from him to complain. He would sit there and let his pet nibble on the threads of his sweater like he was paid for it.
His hand reached for the remote on the arm rest, careful not to jostle his charge, and he set up another documentary. His demanding pet made a series of noises until he lowered the volume from cinematic experience to late night watching, a volume kinder on sensitive ears, but that was it. Chilchuck was there to stay.
Laios buzzed with delight. This was everything to him.
He held so still that eventually, Chilchuck dozed off. He ran hot, especially so in his sleep, yet Laios did not move away. The swell of his ribs in sync with his open-mouthed breaths, his quiet snores and snorts and huffs, his rabbit-fast heartbeat…
He was having an amazing night.
They passed the night like this and Laios had a crick in his neck for two weeks. It was worth it.
Chilchuck was a difficult pet.
He knew that. Even as a human, he'd been told so. Hard-headed, prideful, one-track-minded. He could hardly help it. He'd been taught–very early, too early–to know how to get a job well done and that was about it. It was all he was really good at. That hardly translated to being a pleasant person worth having around. So he snapped and yelled and lied and cowered and shoved and hit, and he kept most at arm's length for the greater part of his life.
He'd changed, of course. He had to, in order to repair whatever salvageable parts of the bridges he had burnt along the way. He was a much better man for it. Happier, too.
Sometimes though, that old version of him made an appearance. It never really left. After all, it was a part of him. That unloveable thing. The closer someone got to his tender core, the harder it was to keep it at bay. It got scared of their proximity and wanted to lash out, scare them off before they could see its fragile insides and be disappointed.
There was something frightening about wanting to be close to someone and knowing that this very want could drive them away. That he could be found lacking. Had been, in the past. Not a fear but an inevitability.
So there was something special–no, magical about the way Laios treated him.
In the face of his vulnerability, this ugly instinct that he wielded like a bat to scare off well-meaning people and pretend he was strong and independent and needed nobody… Laios loved him louder.
He held him in large, caring hands, rubbed his cheeks in light strokes, covered his frowny face in kisses, and murmured undeserved praise.
“I'm proud of you for finishing your meal,” the buffoon would say with teeth marks on his fingers. “You did so well.”
What a stupid thing to thank somebody for. Less than the bare minimum.
Chilchuck huffed as water poured down his head and the last suds of soap were sucked down the drain.
“Here you go~ You're all clean now, don't you feel better?”
Cracking one eye open, he regarded Laios with a moue.
Deliberately looking past it, Laios wrapped him in one of their softest towels, made out of cashmere, and dried his body in gentle presses. “I'm glad you stayed still while I washed you. I know you weren't happy with me but you behaved anyway. It meant a lot to me.”
Behaved? Chilchuck had nipped him on the elbow and wrist one time each and had splashed him over three times. Moron.
As he brushed wet bangs out of Chilchuck's face, Laios tucked some stringy hair behind his ears, then drew firm shapeless forms along his nape, where he often held a lot of tension. It tickled good.
“Chil?”
He opened his eyes back—when had he closed them?—and blinked at Laios questioningly.
“Thank you for letting me take care of you.”
It was instantaneous: he melted under the warmth of his affection, his head suddenly becoming too heavy to support, tilting forward until it rested against Laios’ chest, flushed ears flicking uncontrollably.
Ah, he understood now. The whole “barely even thinking” thing.
It was sort of…nice.
He could get used to it…
The reminder that no matter how difficult he was, Laios would not walk away.
“Was it a cat? I act a bit like a mean cat, minus the meowing.”
Laios looked up from his journal. “Huh?”
“My inner pet. My, uh, petsona? Shut up. Don’t laugh. Anyway, we’ve never gotten back on this. I know I haven’t picked a definitive animal in the end, but I’m still curious about your guess.”
Rolling onto his knees, Chilchuck crawled over and practically flopped down on him, his head bumping Laios’ upper arm. The tallman tipped his journal away, but Chilchuck didn’t take offense; the journal was private and he respected that. “So? What was it? What did you think my inner animal was? Did the last few weeks change your mind?”
This called for a recapitulation. Laios looked down at his journal, where he'd kept all his observations in writing.
Chilchuck was small, high-strung and bad-tempered. As a pet, he was not very vocal, except when he growled and hissed and clacked his teeth. He disliked being picked up and would kick to set himself free. He did not like being spooked and would bite in retaliation. He liked cuddles on his own terms and would scramble away or box at him otherwise. He thumped his feet to express impatience or anger. When he was excited, his ears twitched, and when he was comfortable, he let his body flop contentedly on a comfy surface or tucked himself into a tight ball in Laios’ lap.
“So?”
Laios lowered his eyes back at him.
Chilchuck was staring up at him with wide, curious eyes, his hair swept to the side, his face bunched up by Laios’ bicep, causing his cheek to look rounder and fuller. Laios could not contain himself: he squealed and pressed a wet, smacking kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.
“Uh…” Chilchuck blinked. “Okay?”
“It hasn’t changed.”
“No?”
“Nope. If anything, you solidified it.”
He leaned in again, rubbing his large nose against Chilchuck’s (now rosy) button nose and pulled back only far enough to say, a whisper between them, “You’re not a dog, or a cat, or a squirrel, or a mouse…”
“You’re my bratty little bunny.”