![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
churbooseanon
Strays
“No.”
To be honest, Church can’t tell which one of them whimpers. It could be the mangy golden retriever that just ‘followed’ Caboose home, but even money could have been put on the equally mangy and blond man whose arms were currently wrapped around the mutt.
“But Church,” Caboose whines, his voice starting low and going high pitched just like a dog’s whine—seriously how has he not noticed before that Caboose is like a giant puppy and oh god get that out of his mind it was just too weird—and the way his eyes are so mournful almost hurts.
“Have I ever said anything, anything, to make you think I wanted another pet?” Church demands, and for a second he regrets the choice of wording because Caboose is tilting his head in confusion for half a second before that damn light sparkles in Caboose’s eyes.
No one ever believed him when he said Caboose was far smarter than they gave him credit for. That he made intuitive leaps with astounding speed, or that he came up with plans and executed them without hesitation or pity for his target. But Church knows that flash, knows exactly what’s going to happen next because no matter what he does to fight it, Caboose is going to win this argument.
Not that he isn’t going to try.
“But I’ve said I wanted a pet lots of times, Church. And you promised. You promised I could have one.”
“When the hell did I say that?” he asks and the light in Caboose’s eyes says that he did, he said something stupid in an unguarded moment and Caboose remembered it like he always did.
“Last night,” Caboose beams up at him, and the dog must sense something because that tail is wagging excitedly. It makes Church hesitant to ask.
“Last night?” he asks it anyway because damn him he’s curious as hell to just how Caboose got him to say yes, even for a single moment, because it’s nagging at him that he has but he doesn’t remember.
“Oh, right after you were done with your mouth,” Caboose breezes, cheerful and simple and how the fuck is he not blushing because Church can feel his cheeks heating at just how casually his lover can describe a blowjob.
“What? I didn’t…”
“I asked if you were happy to do that, and you said yes, and you said you liked taking care of me, and I asked if it was fun to take care of someone and you said yes and then I said I wanna take care of someone and you said you had something I could take care of, and I laughed, and you moaned when I touched you with my hand and I asked if I could have a puppy to take care of and you said yes, yes, anything yes if I just didn’t stop and…”
“That’s enough,” Church chokes out and if a face could burst into fire from blushing, he was pretty certain that his would be doing that right now because the sheer ease Caboose always has when talking about sex is just mind boggling. The other man can’t handle killing a fucking spider, but he could make the dirtiest sex sound so fucking rote. “I get it. I agreed. You cheated to get that agreement, but fine. You can have your damn dog. But you have to take care of it. You have to pay for it, you have to take care of it, it’s all your responsibility. The second I have to clean up after your dog, it’s gone.”
“Oh yes, I get that Church. Don’t worry. Leo is going to be the best dog ever and I will walk him and water him and feed him and wash him and play frisbee with him and…”
“You’re naming it Leo?” Church sputtered, because this just kept getting better and better and by that he meant worse. Tucker was never going to let him hear the end of this.
“Oh yes. Because Leonard takes care of me, and I take care of Leo.”
“Tucker… Is never going to stop making jokes about this. Never.”
