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He knew he shouldn’t have passed by the park as he went home. But he loved watching the area where the dogs played after work. Couldn’t help it, he loved animals since he was a child and his dads often remarked that he had made it his one mission in life to pet any willing animal that could be approached if the opportunity came his way.
Where other children were often scared and wary, he had gone after animals ever since he was a toddler.
Something that at times drove his poor parents ragged, an insight that came to him only with adulthood, as he used to run after strangers with dogs to ask if he could pet them. In fact, the only reason he had no pets at home yet was that his city flat had a no animal policy, and the old lady on the floor below was a narc who found ways to blame him for, well, about everything.
But in place of the regular array of dogs that usually ran all around at this hour, there was what looked to be the end of an adoption event from a local shelter, tables and crates slowly starting to be cleared out by volunteers. That was the moment where he knew he should have left, gone straight home, instead of inviting temptation right in by the guise of ‘just looking’.
Not even ten minutes later, he was kneeling by a 7 months old dog licking his face, tail wagging joyfully, as he gladly returned the affection tenfold, and knew he was fucked. And the volunteer wasn’t helping at all, a fond smile on her face.
“He’s the only one who didn’t get picked up,” she informed him, as though his heart wasn’t already completely won over by the furry ball of joy before him.
The second he had seen him, the dog (a nova scotia breed if he wasn’t wrong, and he rarely ever was about animals. Asseylum and Lemrina had once gotten him to attend a bar trivia night about fauna and he had steamrolled the competition.) had bounded up to him, whining like he had dared to leave him at home for the day while he worked and just came back now.
“Why would a sweetheart like you be left out,” he cooed to the dog who pressed his snout to his hand relentlessly as though he agreed with him. Well, he could sadly see why people had passed him over -it wasn’t easy to miss, but while he could see it he didn’t understand it. His heart just broke further.
At this point, he had given up pretending to just look and was now fully sitting on the ground, his lap full of doggy merriment.
“This is Whiskey,” The volunteer, seemingly overjoyed to have found someone willing to give a chance to the leftover, and laughed when she saw his raised eyebrows. “You should have seen the names of the rest of his litter. They were rescued from a hoarding home.”
Great, he already was one impulse away from signing up the adoption papers, and now he was only reminded of his own situation, as a child going from fosters to fosters who were mostly in for the monthly stipends, until his wonderful parents had found him and he never had to look back. He always wished to one day give back the same grace he had been extended to him when he was hurt and scared and so desperately wishing to be loved, and now he had the perfect opportunity.
“Well, what does Whiskey say ?” he received a happy lick for an answer, and fucking hell, he had been doomed the moment he had stepped into the area. The volunteer (Elise, her name tag said) only beamed harder, and he understood that was her literal job to rope in people, but she confided as they walked to a table (Whiskey already following him around) that her heart ached to see that poor puppy being the only one singled out in the entire event. Which he entirely understood, hence his very stupid decision.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time or money to take care of a pet. Or even his work -they allowed dogs to come provided they behaved well. No, the problem was his place, a non-negligible detail.
The shelter only asked for a standard fee that included the neuter cost and vaccines (with always the possibility to give out more so to help the cause), and his main conundrum -for a prior visit so to ensure they wouldn’t be releasing their animals into a bad home. Still, that didn’t deter him from writing down his phone and mail, up until he arrived at the home address. And made the executive decision to not write up his flat, but an address he knew all too well.
“We’ll be in touch to discuss the more convenient time for the visit, which may take up to two weeks including our backlog.”
“That’s not a problem,” he answered confidently, like an idiot. “My partner and I don’t have plans for the upcoming weekends.”
As he bid a heartfelt farewell to Whiskey that felt as though he had known him for years and not just an hour, he wondered how he was going to proceed. Obviously, he had to convince Inaho, someone who was notoriously reluctant to even consider skipping on eggs in any meals. He had his work cut out for him.
Especially since he didn’t have a house. Or a boyfriend, for that matter.
“Let me walk you through an hypothetical scenario,” he told Inaho the next time they met, which was regular as it had become their habit.
“What did you do ?” Inaho asked immediately, yet his eyes not even rising from the book he was reading.
“I resent the accusation,” he mumbled, thoroughly aware that he had no leg to stand on because, as though he wasn’t infamously known for making spur of the moment decisions. Like when he had tackled that boy who used to bully him after he had made a derogatory remark about his parents (he still couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even years later Trillram was still a disgusting person who could eat rocks). Or when he had jumped into a canal to rescue a cat in the middle of winter (didn’t regret that one either).
Funny, how he had stopped being a guest in Inaho’s home years ago. To the point where showing up as Inaho had lunch and taking over the dishes was perfectly natural. It said a lot about Inaho too that he never minded his presence, even after asking him numerous times. He even had his own key. Currently, they were both doing their own thing -Inaho read while he wracked his brain as to how to announce he had signed up his house for a dog.
(And presented him as his significant other, but that was another can of worms.)
“What if I, hypothetically, was going to adopt a theoretical dog,” he began carefully, because not telling his blunder would just be worse in the long run and he would rather have a bad moment now than put Inaho on the spot on the day of the visit. Speaking of the devil, he was looking at him now.
“And, still hypothetically-” he cleared his throat. “I used your house as the address.”
“Slaine.”
“For a theoretical visit-”
“Slaine Troyard.”
He stared at Inaho, who stared back at him, and closed his book. It sounded like the proverbial judge’s gavel.
“Surprise… ?” he chanced out, wincing by the minute Inaho stayed silent.
“Why,” Inaho finally sighed.
“You… Have a big backyard.”
“You know that I don’t even like animals-”
“Just because a seagull stole your sandwich once-”
“ Thrice . I’m sure it was the same one with a vendetta against me-”
“Pedantism and speculation-”
“And why didn’t you sign up your parents instead ? It’s not like they don’t have a backyard and plenty of space either” Inaho finally decided to cut to the chase, which immediately and effectively shut him up.
“They have cats,” latching on to the first and weakest explanation. “They’d bully him. Tharsis still scares the neighbor’s dog, and it’s twice her size.”
Also because he knew better than to pull this kind of stunt on his dads. Cruhteo had a bullshit radar more finely honed than an airport’s security, and as a interpreter knew more than enough languages to tell him to tidy up his room when he pretended to not hear and Saazbaum was a lawyer, which made it difficult to lie whenever he hadn’t brushed his teeth. Obviously, Inaho wasn’t buying it, and knowing him he wasn’t going to let him get away with a warranty.
“Even then, how are you going to get it to your flat without being seen ?” The thing with Inaho was that he delivered the worst of blows with as much intonation as when he was happy. This was a one hit ko served with a resting bitch face.
He froze. “I may have not thought that up ahead,” he reluctantly admitted, caught red handed. It wasn’t as though Inaho was wrong either ; which killed him to admit. Even if his crazy plan had worked, it had glaring flaws that he should have thought of from the start.
“I just couldn’t let him there !” he pleaded, faced with Inaho’s unimpressed stare at his lack of planning. “All alone even as all the others were taken, just because he has a missing eye.”
Forlorn, he looked at one of the many pictures he had taken of Whiskey that he had planned to show Inaho to try and convince him. He was a really adorable dog, gleaming orange fur with some white socks and chest, and yet he had been singled out because of his missing eye -the volunteer had told him it had become infected due to the hoarding situation, and the shelter had no choice but to remove it. To him, it didn’t matter but the way people prioritized appearances had a surefire way to annoy him.
To be entirely honest, when he had seen him he was reminded of Inaho. Not only because of the orange color that Inaho somehow favored, but because of their eyes -or rather, the only one they each had left. The very reason why he had realized just what Inaho meant to him.
He wasn’t privy to the details of exactly what had happened that day, -something about the high pressure of a badly closed valve that had become a flying hazard, but it had been described to him as a very gruesome accident, with Inaho right in its path. The surgeons managed to save his life in the nick of time, but were unable to do anything about his left eye. Cranial trauma was pushing it out of the socket, and as it was already torn to shreds there was no hope about reconstructive surgery. He had been lucky to survive at all, but god definitely played favorites and Kaizuka Inaho was one of them.
He had known many bad days in his life. When another foster child had pushed him down the stairs and he had broken his arm while the others just laughed at him and his screams of pain. A rather nebulous memory of a waiting room while his biological father signed papers before leaving, staying there alone until a stranger with eyes full of pity would come tell him that he was going to be with other children like him. The day where he had finally realized that his father had abandoned him, never to know why. It took him years into therapy to stop believing it was his fault, that he had been left because of something he had done.
But somehow, Inaho’s accident had ranked over all of that, throwing him in a spiral of pain and panic. He hadn’t known, hadn’t suspected until then, the depth of his appreciation for Inaho and being faced with the fear of his passing left him as though his heart had been ripped from his ribcage, arteries plucked out and rotting. Up until that he had downplayed the legitimate pleasure he had found in Inaho’s company, that despite their many differences he always felt like they were on equal grounds. He had playfully leaned into the rivalry that had sprouted between them since day one, only to realize that it barely scratched the surface. Inaho had a way of challenging and completing him, and whatever this was -it had been growing between them for years and it had taken almost losing him to realize it. He remembered that week of pure anxiety, waiting for him to wake up from the medical coma he had been put in.
But then, he stalled and balked on his resolve to tell him. He first thought it would be potentially too emotionally coercing of him to bring it up during Inaho’s recovery, though he was by his side in all his free time. The truth was that he was scared of the answer, of the unknown ; what they had was comfortable and so good already, he didn’t want to risk jeopardizing it. Maybe he was misreading things and all he held so dear in his life, all their comfortable banter, would slip away to be replaced by stilted and uncomfortable moments ? Who was he to ruin their friendship like that ?
Yet, currently, he wasn’t much of a friend either.
“I’ll call them and say something came up,” he swallowed back his disappointment. This was fully on him, for making this impulse decision to begin with.
“I never said it was no,” Inaho replied, frowning.
“Sorry to have put this on- what.”
“It is very stupid, the way you went about it” Inaho’s famous deadpan tone could have made a rock cry. “But I’m in on it.”
“Wait, really,” he gulped, feeling as though he had walked right into a rake like his cartoon shows often showed.
“Why not,” Inaho shrugged. “If you’re the one to take care of it, I don’t mind. One condition, though. You’ll have to live with me.”
“Done deal,” he replied immediately, and then it all caught up with him. “What.”
“It was thanks to you I got this place,” Inaho mused, as though it was the most logical thing in the world. Knowing the guy, it probably was to him.
“No, that was my dad who-”
“Seems about right you finally become my housemate.” True to his usual countenance, his friend continued to talk over him without a care. “Where do we put the dog bed ?”
Oh. He was so, so fucked.
It wasn’t that this was inconvenient. Actually it cut his commute time to work by half and he finally had a reason to abscond from his roommates and Mrs Pollurk from the 4th floor. And, not to mention, getting the dog, which was an excellent motivator.
Simply, it was the way Asseylum took it as the funniest thing in the world when he told her about his latest fuck-up. Her guffaws were almost insulting.
“Slaine,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes once she had somewhat calmed down. “This is exactly like baby trapping the guy.”
“No it’s n-” he answered with great offense. “Of course when you put it like that it sounds bad”
That just got her to laugh harder somehow.
“What am I even going to do,” he lamented in his hands. Pros ; he had his dog. Cons ; he now had to live with his best friend whom he had been pining after for the past years. This was both a blessing and a curse that gave him a headache just to think about.
“Please, just commit to the bit,” Asseylum said cheerfully, wonderfully unbothered by the many ways fate had found to fuck with him, and he glared at her between his fingers. “When is the visit ?”
“This sunday,” he groaned. He wasn’t exactly moved in yet ; because the real world cared about things like breaking his lease and a fuckton of legal papers to sort that took most of his free time. Though some of his things were already there, left over the years. Many times he had crashed on Inaho’s couch or the guest room. Some of his books, a toothbrush and the shampoo he liked in the bathroom.
Not that living with Inaho was a daunting experience. He had stayed over many times to know so. They accorded very well ; he didn’t like cooking much and was instead glad to do cleaning chores, and they both liked an orderly living space. But generally speaking, long exposure to his infatuation tended to fry his brain.
It would be all worth it, he reminded himself firmly, if he got to have Whiskey at the end of the day.
(He should never say that sentence out loud.)
“Best get to work with your fake boyfriend then,” she batted her eyelashes at him obnoxiously. “Congratulations, though. This has to be the most normal way to ask Nao out I’ve ever heard.”
As retaliation, he stole the last piece of her croissant. Often, he was just as amused than he was annoyed with her. Though to be fair, this teasing was long overdue since he had made so much fun of her with how whenever she tried to flirt with Rayet, one of the electrical appliances around them stopped working. The elevator story had been particularly riveting.
Getting to what would soon be his house too was a mixture of strange and normal. Truthfully, Inaho’s home had begun feeling like home years ago -he had been there when he picked it out, had helped him move in and painted the walls with him. Much more than his city flat, at any rate. His roommates weren’t that bad, but they loved to party significantly more than he did, whereas he was content to unwind with a book and good food. In many ways, quiet evenings spent winding down with Inaho suited much more to his lifestyle than incessant gatherings, loud music and booze. He had done a few, but he didn’t want to spend all his spare time doing just that either.
It had become a cozy and comfortable place, mostly thanks to Yuki finding a way to make Inaho’s taste work together (otherwise the whole living room would have been colored orange, but they had compromised on green walls and an orange couch instead). And to think that in a way, it was because of that damn accident.
The company at the time hadn’t wanted to recognize their involvement in the accident, because it certainly wouldn’t look good for their highly lucrative contract that one of their engineers had almost died on the job because of their negligence. They had pinned the fault on Inaho, despite numerous colleagues and eyewitnesses accounting for the complacency and security laxity management privileged to reduce cost at the price of security.
When Saazbaum had heard, he had filed a lawsuit (pro bono, as he told Yuki who was very worried about the cost, he only made filthy rich people pay outrageous amounts because they could more than afford it), representing Inaho and because he was a really good attorney, he won.
He not only got them to pay Inaho’s medical bills but a major sum on top. Of course, the condition was that Inaho wouldn’t work for them anymore (not that he even wanted to) but fortunately a rival business seized the opportunity and offered him a spot accommodating him around his recovery and twice his former salary. Inaho had made the smart choice to purchase a home with the settlement money, as the accident left him with intense migraines that were exacerbated with the lights and noise of the city.
For disclosure’s sake, he too could have left his flat a long time ago. Pride had played a part in that he didn’t want to use the trust fund his dads had set for him -he was so deeply thankful for the financial privilege he had, but he didn’t need nor want a luxury lifestyle. Perhaps this he had inherited from his parents, who too came from money but detested the emptiness of a grand manor and had raised him without spoiling him. He had grown up as normally as could be and seeing the entitlement of some of his peers from the private schools he attended, how removed from reality and spoilt rotten they were, he was grateful for it.
But mostly, he was afraid he could never quite reproduce the same feeling of home he had when he was at his parent’s place or Inaho’s. He knew his parents wouldn’t mind if he went back, but he didn’t exactly want that either. Deep inside, he yearned for connection, for love -he just didn’t want to be alone. What he had with Harklight was pleasant, and though they were still on good terms to this day, they hadn’t lasted either. Yet now what he desired so adamantly was within reach, and he was still unsure as to how to proceed.
Especially as he was going to move in with him. What if he fucked it all up ? For all Inaho and his’ bickering, he struggled to conceive a world without him. If his confession somehow was well received, it still meant he had so much more to lose. And he was afraid of that. Afraid of the end before it even began. He had his biological father to thank for that.
Yet he could still open himself to the vulnerability of love. There was the adoration he already felt for Whiskey, and before that there had been his parents. He could do it again, but he was scared to. Scared to ruin what was most precious. Scared to ruin it.
Still… When he sat by Inaho, whether they shared a meal or did they own stuff, separate but content to exist in the vicinity of each other, he couldn’t help but feel they would be alright. His nerves had been fried for the entire two weeks since they had the (in)famous Talk, but that night he felt at peace.
Come Sunday, after getting Whiskey, he would tell him, he decided. No more running away.
The highly anticipated day finally arrived, and he was a bundle of nervousness and excitement, barely staying in one place and stress changing his shirts. He verified that the toys and bed and all the stuff (they had a field day at the store, Inaho had to veto his enthusiasm several times reminding him what would fit and what wouldn’t) he had bought were in their place, paranoid that it wouldn’t be enough or the shelter was going to think they wouldn’t be good owners and refused and-
“It’ll be fine,” Inaho said placidly, understanding him easily even though he hadn’t said a word in the past thirty minutes. “Barring some unlikely disaster, it will all go well. I made a graph.”
And somehow, that was exactly what he needed to hear to relax -something so very Kaizuka-trademarked, that made his lips curl upwards and his shoulders drop. At least for the next five minutes, because when he heard a car pull up in the front yard, he instantly reverted back to vibrating with anticipation.
Even as they were getting to the door, he could already hear some excited yapping beyond. It made his heart ache and sing at the same time, and when the door opened on the same volunteer as before and the dog, his dog, he barely saluted her first before kneeling to the ground and accepting his welcome.
“Ohh yes, I know, I know, I missed you too,” he hummed, laughing as Whiskey licked his face, greeting him as though they had reunited after ten long years. His tail thumped on the ground in an almost rhythmic sound.
It took a little while before he could finally get up from the porch, and when he did, Elise was beaming (seeing the laugh lines on her face, she must have done so a lot, and it reassured him) and Inaho was looking at both Whiskey and him with something as close to fondness as he got.
He could tell that the volunteer immediately saw the link between Whiskey and Inaho -like most people, her mouth fell slightly when she spotted the eyepatch. But she was polite enough to not comment about it, which was welcomed. People often asked Inaho why he wore an eyepatch instead of getting a prosthesis, to which the answer was about always the same ; it was none of their business. He simply didn’t want to. He wore a conformer underneath and that was it. If they insisted, he often took off the eyepatch and displayed the deep scarring that still lasted even four years after the accident, and that generally shut up most of the remarks.
Though, for him, he had stopped feeling queasy about the injury long ago. That his friend felt comfortable enough to clean it in front of him was strangely touching somehow. People always asked about the prosthesis because it made them feel better -he knew that was what Yuki did, because she had been so scared to lose her little brother, the kid she had practically raised and the only family she had left, and the missing eye was a reminder of it. It had taken some time before she accepted that Inaho didn’t have to cater to others’ comfort, even hers. He wore the eyepatch not out of shame for the scarring but because otherwise the feel of the wind and other elements on the damaged skin was overwhelming.
As for him, he didn’t care. It was a part of Inaho, and it didn’t make him any less attractive. Partly, this was why he had felt so strongly about Whiskey so quickly -he couldn’t conceive why just one eye was a problem. The rest of his reasons were because he loved dogs, and the world was a better place when you loved and cared for an animal.
“What a beautiful place !” Elise chuckled when she saw the amount of dog paraphernalia they had already gotten. “And you came prepared. Good, I always love to see a couple so invested !”
Oh no. Oh no no no. The moment the words left her mouth, he remembered that in his haste to admit to Inaho he had used his house to get a dog, he had forgotten a small detail. A very important, hard to miss detail . The kind of detail he had two entire weeks to remember, and fucking didn’t.
He hadn’t told Inaho they were supposed to pretend to be together because he was a stupid idiot with a big mouth and poor planning skills.
Suddenly, he was very happy for the distraction Whiskey presented, tugging on his leash in his effort to explore better, because he had to be the first person on earth to find a way to communicate ‘just play along, please’ with his eyes and eyebrows only. To a guy who had the same nonplussed expression as the day where he graduated with honors being the youngest in his class.
True to himself, Inaho showed no sign that he was thrown off by the volunteer’s comment. Then, it also meant that he had no clue whether he had understood his intent at all.
“Of course,” Inaho answered with his usual tone, and he sucked in a breath. “I uprooted the azaleas from the garden and compared client’s reviews and ratings for the local veterinarians.”
As Inaho showed Elise a manila folder full with graphs, charts of protein comparisons between brands and studies arguing for harnesses rather than collars, he felt a wave of fondness overwhelm him, the anticipation he had felt suddenly nothing more than an afterthought. Inaho, who didn’t want a pet, yet researched everything to make its existence more comfortable -going as far as removing plants from his home if they were toxic, without him having to ask. If possible, he only fell more in love with him right this instant. However, it wasn’t the time for any grand declaration of his long repressed feelings, so he concentrated on what Elise was telling them.
Whiskey immediately understood what was for him, patient even as they were learning their way through putting the harness on. He made a mental note to take away the squeaky toy during the night because it had quickly become his favorite. Otherwise, their dog stuck by him for the rest of the day, fearing as though if he let him out of his sight for just a minute he would vanish. Seeing Whiskey roll over in the yard happily, he knew he had made the right choice.
Also, he had definitely noticed the way Inaho’s eyebrows lifted slightly as they did when he was happy. His friend’s face had softened the moment he had seen Whiskey, and it made his heart ache. Truthfully, he hadn’t been about to put all the work on Inaho, but seeing him so involved and so fond already filled him with euphoria.
Soon enough, the dog settled right in and Elise bid them goodbye after making sure everything was in order with a cheery wave. Alongside signed documents and a check, they had a month’s worth of dog food and Whiskey’s health record. Besides the eye that had to be removed, he was as healthy as could be.
(And when she had said Whiskey was lucky to have found his forever home and Inaho took his hand, lacing their fingers together and said he was the lucky one, he managed to remember breathing in under five seconds, which he was very proud about.)
So far, Whiskey had stuck close to him -even when exploring the backyard, he would run back to him every two minutes to make sure he was still there- but when he carefully sniffed Inaho’s hand, and then nuzzled his palm, it was the best thing he ever saw. The colors felt brighter ; the world prettier. Outside, birds chirped and not even the car that had stopped in front of the red light in the street, blasting margaritaville from the speakers at full volume, could spoil this moment.
He didn’t know how much he needed to see Inaho kneeling by a dog, petting and complimenting his orange coat as though he could perfectly understand him, until he actually witnessed it. How had he gone 28 years of his life without looking at such a perfect sight.
The novelty lasted well into the evening. For a guy who, this very morning, had said he wouldn’t deal with a pet, Inaho was already looking up and planning to teach him commands and tricks.
“Here are the terms of our transaction, sir.” As he was wont to do, Inaho spoke very seriously. “You shake this paw, I give you exactly one treat. Non negotiable, non refundable.”
When Whiskey, already trained for basic commands as the shelter always did though they insisted on the importance to keep training him, did just that, Inaho turned towards him, as jubilant as he could get.
“He’s very smart,” Inaho declared like a proud father. “He takes after me.”
This only made him laugh from where he was heating their dinner. “Remind me who said he didn’t care about a dog just yesterday ?”
“Don’t say that in front of our son. You’ll give him issues.”
Well, however ridiculous Inaho was being, he couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed at this change of heart. It kind of made him want to cry with joy, even.
Just as they finished their late dinner and he was looking at the overnight bag he had brought, he remembered something that had conveniently slipped off his mind in all the freshness of having Whiskey at home. Inaho and he hadn’t talked one bit about his egregious lie that had spectacularly come back to bite him in the ass. Thankfully, Inaho had rolled with it, but then that act had continued well after the volunteer was gone, a routine that didn’t differ from their usual banter and interactions that made the whole thing feel natural.
He knew he had planned to tell everything, but now that he had reached that point he had no idea how to proceed. Inaho and he had talked about utilities money, groceries, the deed of the house and where his stuff would go (as though he already didn’t have space for his clothes in Inaho’s dresser already) but suddenly, broaching this peculiar subject made him want to run off and change his entire identity.
“Are you coming ?” Inaho ruptured through his increasing mental spiral as he stood halted in movement, his toothbrush still in one hand.
“Where,” he squinted, watching Whiskey take one of his socks and drag it to his bed in the living room.
“To bed,” Inaho stated this like it was a really obvious thing and he couldn’t understand why he was staring back at him in that manner and asked about the guest room. “No, my bedroom.”
“Let’s rewind,” he felt a bit frantic, yet he also spoke very calmly. Adrenaline did wonders. “You want me to come sleep into your bed.”
“That’s what I was implying, yes.”
“But- why ?”
Inaho now frowned at him, and he felt like they had jumped 15 years back in time and he was about to be explained what rayleigh scattering was and why he was an idiot for not knowing it. “I thought people in a relationship usually shared a bed, by modern standards.”
“It’s- You’re-”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted, when you told the shelter we were together ?”
“I mean yes I wished but- Wait, is this how you’re fucking asking me out ?” His voice had raised so well his vocal range was getting closer to the pitch he had when he was 11 years old. A little bit more and he could start training as an opera soprano.
“Yes. Isn’t it clear. You’re living here. We have a baby boy to provide for,” Inaho pointed at Whiskey, who just let out an enthusiastic woof and went back to being adorable and playing with his sock. “Do I need to get the marriage certificate ready to convince you-”
“For the love of me, slow down ,” he was halfway into hysterics because the situation was just so mind blowing and yet so Kaizuka-like that it made his stomach hurt with laughter. “Let’s start with me coming to bed, alright ? And… maybe a date somewhere, sometime around.”
“I can do that,” Inaho assured him seriously, but the smile he echoed to his, however small, was sincere.
Inaho Kaizuka may have had one eye left, yet he looked at him the way he had always yearned to be looked at. This time, when he stepped towards him and joined their lips softly, there was no more hesitation on his behalf. Just conviction that even if he didn’t know what the end would be like, he wanted to take this chance and face it. And that kiss only proved it.
“You’re the one who actually baby trapped me,” he however realized several hours later, right as they were about to fall asleep. Meanwhile, oblivious to the world, Whiskey slept on his back, limbs askew in bliss, just content to be with them.
“I don’t know what that means,” Inaho answered from where he had his head buried into his hair.
He simply smiled, and kissed Inaho’s forehead before yawning. “I’ll tell you later.”
After all, they had all the time in the world now.
He finally got around to tell his parents and explain everything that was brutally changing in his life. Though mostly he walked himself right into chaos because he only sent a message saying they now had a grandson before he could send a picture, and immediately got called.
“Did you steal a baby,” Saazbaum asked. “Wait- don’t tell me, I need plausible deniability. God, these cases are a headache-”
It took some frantic explanations and several pictures, including one of Inaho and Whiskey taking a nap over the couch, before he could convince them that no, he didn’t somehow acquire a whole child in the week where he hadn’t called them. Though ever since Inaho kept committing to the bit and even buying shirts for Whiskey because he was a little shit who liked to fuck with people, it wasn’t too removed from the truth. He even was starting to contaminate him, he had taken to referring Whiskey as ‘their son’ in their friend’s group chat and had an excellent time watching Inko, Nina and Calm lose their minds about it. It didn’t help that Asseylum and Lemrina were in on it.
Whatever. In a few weeks he would finally move in, and they would know then, as they had still offered to help out. He knew he was going to get a lot of shit for doing everything in reverse -the dog then the house then the partner- but now that he had it all, he wasn’t dreading it in the slightest.
“Slaine,” Cruhteo began asking once he finished his wild tale, and his tone had a universal parental quality to it. The kind of intonation that let him know he should have good answers incoming soon, like when he was seven and had smuggled a snake into the house. “Did you baby trap him ?” From the background, Saazbaum could be heard howling with laughter.
“Oh come on with that !”