Pairing: Stephen / Ryan
Word Count: 484
Summary: For Goldarrow’s primeval denial fandom stocking, using the prompt “And what exactly did you think was going to happen?”
The dog, well he was mostly sure it was a dog, was filthy and currently resembled a dirty mop on legs. Its coat was matted and straggly, trailing on the floor as it shuffled around and it was currently inhaling a plate of chopped up, leftover roast chicken that Stephen had set in front of it.
“Do I even want to know?”
Stephen stood up from where he’d been crouched next to the dog. “One of the neighbours said he’d seen her before, wandering about looking for scraps, but he couldn’t catch her. Poor thing. I managed to entice her close enough to catch and gave her some food.”
Ryan had a bad feeling about this but pushed on regardless. “Which was a sweet thing to do. Come on, I’ll give you and it a lift to the RSPCA shelter.“
“She, not it,” Stephen corrected. “And I can’t just dump her there. Look at her; she’s scared.”
The dog had licked the plate clean and was currently sitting in the corner, trembling. That bad feeling was deepening, and now Stephen was using the puppy eyes on him.
“You had to know that would be the answer. What exactly did you think was going to happen?”
Stephen smiled. “That you love me so much you’d let me keep her?” he said hopefully. “I think she’s some kind of shih-tzu cross but I can’t really tell with the state she’s in. I need to get her checked out by a vet and cleaned up-“
Ryan sighed. “Come on, and bring her with you. We’re taking your car. I’m not letting that walking mud ball get fleas in mine.”
“Where are we going? Tom, I’m not taking her to the shelter!”
Ryan just picked up the dog and the car keys, leaving Stephen to follow, still pleading.
Four hours later, a washed, fed, medicated and flea-treated dog investigated the living room cautiously. She definitely looked better and, to Ryan’s surprise, she was actually white under all the layers of accumulated grime. Unfortunately, the vet at the shelter had needed to almost shave her due to the amount of heavily matted fur, and so she was wearing a grey fleece doggy jumper. He hadn’t had a say in it- “She’ll be cold until her coat grows back!” -but he had managed to nix the bright pink jumper at least.
A short time later, as they sat on the sofa watching TV, Ryan felt something nudging at his elbow. Lifting his arm, the dog inched onto his lap, slowly as though waiting to be told off. When no rejections came, she curled up and went to sleep. He had to admit that she was kind of cute.
Out of his eye corner, he could see Stephen smirking at him. “Not a word.”
Stephen laughed but mimed zipping his lips.