Chapter Text
“Jack, this is stupid, we should just go home.”
“Denny, we are literally already here,” the older man says, shooting Dennis a pointed look as he puts the car in park and removes the keys from the ignition. He makes quick work of his seatbelt, opening the driver’s side door and swinging his legs out, feet landing on the hot asphalt of the PetSmart parking lot. The boy in the passenger seat hasn’t moved. Jack groans dramatically, shutting his door and walking around to open the other one.
Dennis was staring down at where his hands sat in his lap, thumbs picking at his nail beds, didn’t even flinch when the door was opened. He ignores Jack as he reaches across his lap, unbuckling his seatbelt for him, and only finally meets the other man’s eyes when a hand on his chin gently forces his head to turn.
“What’s up, bud? Don’t want it anymore? And you better not say yes, because I know that’s not true.”
Dennis shakes his head as well as he can within the constraints of the grip on his jaw. “No, I want it… ‘s just embarrassing,” he mutters, “what if they like… know. Can’t we just buy one online?”
Jack sighs, “Okay, one: nobody in there is going to assume that we’re buying things at the pet supply store for kinky gay sex. And two: I can promise you that we are hardly the first people to get some pup supplies from here that aren’t being used for an actual dog. Get out of your head, none of these strangers care enough to pay attention to you that much anyways,” he punctuates his last point with a light slap to Dennnis’s cheek. Jack’s abrasiveness is weirdly comforting, but maybe that’s just because Dennis has grown so used to it at this point. He steps back to make room for the younger man to get out.
As they cross the parking lot to the entrance, Dennis’s hand instinctively gravitates towards Jack’s, fingers intertwining in a way that had become so natural, so routine over the course of the past few months. Jack is kind enough to not mention that his hand is a little clammier than usual. Their shoulders bump against each other as Dennis leans into the heat and comfort of the man by his side.
There’s a burst of air conditioning when the automatic door slides open and an electronic bell sound goes off to alert the employees of their arrival. Jack responds to the welcome with a slight smile and a nod, saying something about how they’re just browsing, but thanks before guiding Dennis towards the back corner of the store where the wall is covered in an array of colorful dog collars.
Dennis sends a silent thank you out into the universe once he sees how tucked away and hidden the section is in this store.
The embarrassment and shame from earlier have started to be replaced with a nervous excitement. He lets himself reach out, running a hand over the nylon material of the collars and watching them sway on their pegs from the touch. He worries his lip, overwhelmed by how many options there are. Which one did he want? What was right for him?
At some point, Jack had dropped his hand, and was now intently looking over different collars on his own, feeling the texture and weight of them in his hands. He looks more focused here than some days in the Pitt, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he concentrates on the very important task at hand.
Dennis’s fingertips ghost over one. A plain cornflower blue collar. Simple. Cute. Him. He wants it. Suddenly he’s never wanted anything more. His shaky hand awkward and clumsy as he grabs it off the peg it’s hanging on and turns back to Jack with his choice.
“I um, I got one. This one,” he mutters as he thrusts his choice out to show it to his boyfriend, “We can go now.”
Jack chuckles as he gently takes the collar out of Dennis’s hands. “What’s the rush, Denny?” he asks teasingly as his thin fingers deftly unbuckle the clasp at the front of the collar, raising it towards Dennis’s neck.
Oh God.
Dennis’s eyes widen, darting around the store to check for customers or employees that could see them. Nobody.
“Jack,” he whines, panicked, as the buckle clasps shut just under his Adam's apple.
The man in question assesses the fit of the collar with clinical professionalism, lips pressed in a straight line as he leans in closer to the other man’s neck. Two long fingers slide under it against Dennis’s trachea, tugging slightly to check its fit. The boy is caught off guard and stumbles forward a step. A thumb rubs against the sensitive skin of his neck under the collar.
“Feels good? Not too tight? Scratchy? We can look for a leather one if—”
“It’s good, Jack. Stop fussing. A little scratchy but uh… not in a bad way. I like it,” Dennis says, really hoping that his face isn’t bright red at this point. “Can we go now?” he pleads, unbuckling the collar to take it off.
“Nuh uh, bud. Still wanna get some toys for my pup, don’t want him to get bored,” he says, waggling his brows, “plus, look what I found,” Jack holds up the collar in his hand that Dennis didn’t even notice him grab; it has the Pittsburgh Penguins logo running around the length of it, “I think Robby’ll get a kick out of you in this.”
Jack is grinning and Dennis can’t help but giggle at how proud he looks. After grabbing a matching blue leash, he’s dragged by the wrist down to the dog toy aisle, picks out a few toys without having to be prompted, which earns him a soft good boy from Jack. A plush moose squeaky toy with plaid antlers, a rubber bone chew toy, and a blue tug rope that matches his new collar. His collar.
At the register, Jack picks out a red bone shaped tag for the collar and adds it onto the growing pile of things for Dennis. The cashier makes small talk with Jack as Dennis smiles silently to not look rude. The older man rambles on about how it’s all for the sweetest chocolate lab that they found at the shelter and she responds by praising the breed’s loyalty and a light hearted warning about how energetic they can be, especially when you’re young.
Dennis keeps his eyes firmly trained on the counter and tries not to react physically when Jack responds with: “oh don’t I know it, he sure knows how to tire me out!” with that charismatic grin that Dennis is sure is the reason half of the staff and patients are a little bit in love with the doctor.
On the way out, they stop at the dog tag engraving machine to customize the tag for Dennis. Jack drops the tag into the machine and punches “DENNIS” on the screen when prompted for what the front of the tag should say. He flips it over and puts his name and phone number on the back before leaning down to mutter into the other man’s ear, “want me to put daddy’s number on here, too?”
He knows the answer, obviously he knows what the answer would be, but he gets a sense of satisfaction from the way it makes Dennis’s neck heat up as he nods so fast he might be at risk for brain damage. Jack squeezes softly at the back of his neck with his free hand as he types Robby’s name and number in and presses FINISH, waiting a few minutes until they’re prompted that the tag is done and they can take it out.
Dennis feels lighter on the short walk back to the car. Jack opens the passenger side door for him, ever the gentleman, and places the bag of goodies on his lap before going around to his side of the car, but he doesn’t put the key in the ignition.
He roots around in the side pocket of his cargo pants, searching for something, and pulls out some shiny piece of metal that Dennis can’t quite see from the angle. Jack grabs the cornflower blue collar and Dennis’s new tag out of the bag, wasting no time in freeing the collar from the cardboard label it’s stuck to. He uses his thumbnail to pry the split ring at the front open and slides the tag and whatever else was in his hand onto the ring, looking at it for a beat before holding it out to show Dennis.
It was one of Jack’s dog tags. Like. One of his dog tags. Government issued.
A possessive heat bloomed in Dennis’s stomach. He felt owned.
“Can I wear it now? Please—”
The words burst out of him before he could even think to be embarrassed by them. Forgets momentarily that they are sitting in a very visible strip mall parking lot. Jack raises a brow at him, clearly very pleased with the effect it all has on Dennis.
“What happened to shame?” he teases, “don’t want to wait for the privacy of our bedroom anymore?”
“Jack…” Dennis begs, his voice raw and rough from desperation, “I need it.”
“Last time I checked, puppies didn’t talk. Maybe I should make you bark for it, huh, Denny?”
And Dennis fucking whines at that. Not quite gone enough to bark like Jack wants, but the idea of it? God, yeah, maybe Dennis wants that too. Likes the idea of having to bark, and paw, and beg for things the way a dog would.
Jack chuckles at the noise. “Not quite, bud, but we can work on that later, yeah?” he says, relenting and clasping the collar around his pup’s neck. He brushes his knuckles against Dennis’s cheek, the younger boy leaning into it, eyes half lidded in content. Jack leans in to steal a quick kiss before buckling his seatbelt and turning the car on, throwing it into reverse.
Dennis scrambles to buckle his seatbelt, trying not to be distracted by the way Jack so casually threw his right arm over the passenger headrest, looking over his shoulder to back out of the spot.