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jingabitch · 4 years

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Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.4

SUMMARY: when you were ten, taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

PAIRING: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

WORD COUNT: 10.5k

RATING: explicit

A/N: again, I am a liar because this story is still not complete. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy this!

I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask.

Also, shoutout to my wonderful betas @knjkitten and @seoul9711 for going over this for me! yall are the greatest 💕

series index

Spring means spring showers. Usually that’s something Taehyung kind of enjoys, because it means the weather is getting warmer, and who doesn’t love curling up in bed on rainy mornings (or afternoons, or evenings)?

This spring, though, is different. The boys, after hearing Taehyung shamefully confess that he’d kicked you out, assuming that you’d head right over to one of them, had immediately torn into him for being an irresponsible owner. They were especially upset because he hadn’t told them the entire story, ashamed to let them know that he’d started a sexual relationship with his pet human and not ready to talk about the whole imprinting debacle. To them, he’d simply lost his cool over something petty and done something stupid.

Then they’d organized and strategized, planning to comb through Seoul to try and find you. It was a good thing that all of them were predator hybrids, with enhanced abilities to sniff you out. This rain, though… it was making things difficult, washing away your residual scent. It was bad enough that they were trying to track you two weeks after you’d gone missing, but it had been consistently raining this whole time, and that meant it would be next to impossible to track you down using your scent.

Spring showers meant another problem: no one was picnicking if it was raining. Well, it wasn’t like there were many anyway since it was still cold out – the boys assured you that during summer, they came in hordes – but between the tents and rented heaters, there were still people who came out sometimes, just to spend a little time outdoors once in a while. Hybrids were made sturdy, after all, and weren’t as susceptible to the cold as humans.

It was another week before Taehyung got to Hangang Park. A week of combing through every street, back alley and underground pass in the part of Seoul that he’d been assigned. At the very edge of Seoul, Hangang Park was one of the last places that they hadn’t looked and hope that they would find you was running low. You could be anywhere by now, perhaps having begged a ride or train ticket to another city even.

In the week that they’d been out looking for you, you’d been spending a lot of time inside with the boys. Since it was cold, all of you tended to huddle together in a puppy pile that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the big snuggle fests you’d enjoyed in the past with Taehyung and his bandmates. All the free time that all of you had meant that you spent a lot of time engaging in the only fun thing homeless poor people could afford, and you’d more than once thought sardonically that since you weren’t getting much food, it was a good thing you were getting so much protein.

After all that time spent apart, your reunion with Taehyung was almost anticlimactic. You’d squirmed free of Youngbae and Jiyong, who were currently napping, to go use the public restroom. When you were done, you were drying your hands on your shirt while walking out of the little hut that housed the toilets when you saw him. Or at least, someone who looked suspiciously like him from the back. He was wearing one of Taehyung’s favourite shirts, too, a long-sleeved silk button-down that you’d taken to and from the dry cleaners many times before.

For a second, it felt like time had stopped as you stared at the wide expanse of the man’s back. It took you back to a time that really wasn’t that long ago, but seemed like a different lifetime. So much had changed about you, and your life, and the way you lived.

Then the man started turning around and you realized that it was, indeed, Taehyung. Needless to say, you couldn’t leave quickly enough. You didn’t know why he was here, but you definitely didn’t want him seeing how low you’d sunk now. Swearing inwardly, you darted off, back to the tent behind a convenience store that was now your home.

When Taehyung first scented you, he almost thought he was hallucinating. It was just so unlikely to him that you would be here, of all places, when he’d all but lost hope of finding you ever again. It wasn’t until he turned around that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a figure running away, and realized that it was, indeed, you. Immediately, he gave chase, yelling your name so you’d turn around.

Instead, you just ran faster, practically diving back into the tent where the other boys were and zipping it up tight. Daesung stirred, holding a hand out to you. “What’s up?” he slurred. You took his hand and cuddled close to his side, not sure how to explain things and just hoping that Taehyung would leave. Why was he here, anyway? He should be busy right now with promoting their comeback album; it wasn’t a good time for the band to be picnicking.

“Y/n!” Taehyung was standing right outside the tent now, and you closed your eyes stubbornly, tucking your face into Daesung’s chest. He’d been absently stroking your hair, but when he heard Taehyung, he propped himself up on his elbow.

“It sounds like someone’s looking for you,” he pointed out rather unnecessarily, raising a brow at you. You rolled your eyes at him in response.

“Y/n, please, let’s go home!” Taehyung continued, and you groaned, turning onto your belly and burying your face in your hands.

Jiyong, who was famously grouchy when he woke up, snarled as he unzipped the tent. “Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?!” he growled.

Taehyung blinked, slightly surprised at the hostility. “Uh, is Y/n-ssi here?” In the unexpected situation, his speech became polite.

Seunghyun came up behind Jiyong, frowning. He’d developed something of a soft spot for you – well, as much as was possible, anyway, when all of you were scrounging for survival. “What’s it to you?” he asked rudely.

“Uh, I’d like to speak to her, if possible?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you objected. You had no interest in anything he could say to you at this point. Was he here to scream at you again? That seemed like overkill, all things considered, but since there was nothing else you could imagine, it remained the most likely scenario in your mind. You didn’t want him seeing you like this, either. If he was going to hate you, you’d rather he at least remember you the way you’d been as a pet, not as a homeless stray.

“Y/n, please.” The tone of his voice gave you pause – it was weary and sad, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to comfort him. You'd spent half your life attuned to his every need and it was difficult to turn that off suddenly.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed past Jiyong and Seunghyun, who were blocking the entrance. "What is it?" you asked. You tried not to make eye contact with Taehyung - he'd always been perceptive, and you didn't want him staring into your soul again, afraid of what he might find there.

“Y/n… please come home,” Taehyung pleaded. With you standing in front of him, he could see properly the toll that the past three weeks had on you. You’d lost a lot of weight and your jawline was sharper than it had ever been, you looked tired and messy, your skin was starting to break out due to lack of proper nutrition and access to skincare products, and you smelled… not that great, which wasn’t a surprise since you’d had about two showers in the last three weeks.

Still, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and looked away. “I don’t want to,” you objected. You could still hear his harsh words ringing in your ears, but more than that, the shame you felt at encouraging your unusual relationship when you should have stopped it was weighing heavily on you, and you didn’t want to go back and face that.

“Y/n-ie, please? I know I was mean and awful, and I’m sorry about that. Please come home,” he tried again, but you refused to even look at him.

“Stop it, leave me alone,” you whispered, hugging yourself protectively.

Finally, his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t handle being the cause of your distress anymore, even if he did think that you would be better off back at home with him. “Okay,” he accepted, his voice quiet and dejected. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want, but you’re welcome to come home any time, okay?”

You nodded stiffly, waiting for him to leave.

When he turned away disappointedly and walked off, you turned back to the boys to find all four of them staring at you. “What?” you asked slightly defensively.

“Who was that, baby?” Youngbae asked.

“Uh, it was my previous owner.”

“And he wanted to take you home?”

“Uh, yeah?” More uncertainly this time, not sure where they were going with this.

“And you said no?” Jiyong butted in incredulously.

You shrank in on yourself at the volume and tone of his voice. “I don’t want to go back with him,” you almost whimpered, your hands bunching up the fabric of your shirt anxiously.

“Baby… why not?” Seunghyun asked.

Your mind stalled. You didn’t want to tell them the real reason, afraid that they would look at you differently or even kick you out of their group. “We… had a fight,” you said rather vaguely instead.

“And you’re still mad at him? Did he do something wrong?”

“Yes, he kicked me out,” you said pointedly. Wasn’t that enough?

“Baby… he clearly feels bad about that if he came to ask you to go home,” Daesung pointed out reasonably.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he kicked me out,” you grumbled petulantly. “What if he does it again? Then I’ll end up right back here.”

“And what if you do?” Seunghyun asked. “Even if he kicks you out again in a week, that’s a week that you get to spend with a roof over your head, and access to food and water.”

You blinked at Seunghyun. Out of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t really what you’d thought he would say, but it made sense somehow. Living on the streets was difficult. You hadn’t had a hot meal in three weeks, and even though the hunger pangs kept the nausea at bay, picking at hybrids’ half-eaten food wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

It must seem so shallow and ridiculous to these boys, who’d been living on the streets all their lives, that there was someone offering you a perfectly good home and you didn’t want it. Why? Because of your feelings? Ultimately, did that matter? You began to doubt yourself and your reasoning, wondering if you were being silly.

Still, your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the memories of Taehyung forcibly kicking you out of his house, and you gnawed on your lip uncertainly. Would it really be okay?

“Sweetie, it seems like there’s something more keeping you from wanting to go back.” Youngbae, ever the astute one, guessed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head slowly. It might seem tempting, but you didn’t know how they would react to hearing about your sexual relationship with your hybrid owner. You’d lost enough; you didn’t want to lose your new family too, especially when their protection was all that was keeping you from being out on the streets alone. The memory of the two nights you’d spent wandering around the streets of Seoul, lost and alone, were enough to keep your mouth shut out of caution and fear.

“That’s fair, but is it worth living like this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tent where the five of them had been living practically on top of each other.

“You live like this,” you objected. “We’ve been fine, haven’t we?” you continued, a little more uncertainly now. Were they just too polite to tell you that they were tired of you and wanted you to leave?

All of them exchanged glances, before turning back towards you, serious expressions on their faces. “Y/n… any blind fool can tell that you’re not made for this life,” Seunghyun began. “The rest of us were born on the streets and we know how to handle ourselves.”

“I know how to handle myself,” you protested, your hackles rising. Hadn’t you been doing your part to contribute to the group? Thinking about it too hard made you feel a little unsettled, like you were about to be booted out of another family, so you tilted your chin upwards in defiance.

Daesung stepped in, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve been doing really well, sweetie, but all of us can see how difficult this is for you,” he pointed out.

“What- what do you mean?”

“Well… your soft hands that have clearly never done heavy lifting, your fussiness about food, your general demeanor…” Jiyong started listing things that all of them had noticed over the past couple of weeks, only stopping when Seunghyun nudged him to be quiet.

“The point is… this life is clearly not suitable for you,” Seunghyun explained. “And even if things are bad between you and your owner right now, he’s willing to make an effort, and it seems like going back with him is the best thing for you.”

You bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I think if you have to eat any more cold ramen noodles you’ll kill yourself,” Jiyong said dryly, and your cheeks heated, remembering the day that all you had to eat was cold, congealed half-eaten instant noodles. You thought you’d covered up your distaste, but apparently not. In your defense, it had been a soup ramen and the noodles had absorbed all the soup and gotten bloated and soggy.

“Okay,” you finally accepted. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Unexpectedly, it was Jiyong that came to hug you goodbye. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll always be welcome here,” he whispered, and you nodded, hugging him back. Even though you were pretty sure it was just because they enjoyed the convenience of having pussy on tap, you were still touched, your eyes starting to sting with tears that you refused to shed. As accepting as they’d been of you, you’d tried your best to avoid appearing weak and needy, and that wasn’t about to change.

It didn’t take long for you to find Taehyung – he was standing right near the entrance of the convenience store, smoking a shame cigarette. It was a habit he’d picked up in the military and quit when he left, but when he was stressed or upset, he still craved it. Right now, he was all of that and more.

You watched from around the side of the small building as he blew smoke out and flicked the end of the cigarette with his thumb, causing the ash to fall into the ashtray on top of the bin. The cigarette smoke was all he could smell, so he didn’t know you were there.

“Taehyung-oppa?” you called hesitantly, taking a few steps forward.

The way he whipped around to look at you was almost comical. “Y/n…?” he breathed, like he could hardly believe it. Hastily, his free hand came up to wipe his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

You came a little closer, still a little skittish. “You shouldn’t be smoking,” you said instead of answering.

He smiled a little sadly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Well… probably not,” he agreed.

“It’s bad for your health,” you continued walking towards him as you chided him gently.

“It is,” he said, although his voice cracked on the second word. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to stifle the sobs. If this was the last time he ever saw you, he didn’t want you to remember him as a sobbing mess. Dragging a deep, painful breath in through his lungs, he swallowed hard to compose himself.

“Taehyung-oppa…” When he next opened his eyes, you were standing right in front of him, in all your ethereal glory. Right now, it didn’t matter that you looked (and smelled) like you’d seen better days. He forced himself to drink in every feature, every bit of your essence and scent. If this was all he had for the rest of his life, it would be enough. When he’d adopted you, he made a promise that he would always take care of you. He’d failed once already, but if all he could do for you for the rest of his life was look out for you from afar, that would be enough.

The powers that be must be smiling down on him, though, because instead of disappearing, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and ground it out against the bin. “Let’s go home,” you said simply.

He didn’t know why or how you’d changed your mind, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nodding mutely, he held out his hand, and miraculously, you placed yours in it, letting him lead you back to his car.

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In the enclosed space of the car, Taehyung could pick apart all the unfamiliar notes of your scent, and it was driving him insane. The sour note of hunger and misery made the wolf in him want to whine and nose at your throat, bathe you and feed you and cuddle you until it all went away. The scent of unfamiliar men blanketing you inspired a very different reaction, though. It made him want to snarl, to tear the men who’d dared touch his mate apart, and make sure their scent was covered by his. He didn’t even want to think about how deep the scent of other men had sunk into you after three weeks. It had been his fault, anyway.

The part of him that was human tamped down ruthlessly on his baser, animalistic instincts, knowing that he couldn’t give in to them when they’d been engineered to manipulate him. Now, these instincts that had been bred into him were preventing him from being a good, responsible owner and that was unacceptable. Being here with you was throwing the conflict between his wolf and human sides into sharp relief, and he was silent as he mulled over it.

You didn’t have anything to say to him either, and your car ride home was quiet. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the side of the car, and whenever there was a red light, Taehyung would gaze upon your face silently until he had to drive again.

When you finally got home, you followed Taehyung silently up to the apartment, your head bowed. His heart clenched at how broken and sad you looked, and the thought that he was the cause of it made him want to clutch you to his chest and cry. He did none of that, however, merely opening the door and letting you step into the house before him. You hovered uncertainly in the entryway, not even toeing off your shoes, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt in a way he recognized as an anxious habit of yours.

He stepped into the apartment and held his hand out to you. “Come on,” he coaxed, much like the first time he’d brought you home. The parallel didn’t seem like it was lost on you, because the ghost of a smile played across your lips, but this time when you put your hand in his, it was stiff and tense. He didn’t say anything, though, closing his larger hand around yours and drawing you into the apartment. You were still hesitant, though, looking around nervously, and in that moment, if he could have given up his heart to make you feel better, he would have done it without any thought.

“Do you want to go take a shower while I get dinner ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded after a second, slipping off into your room to grab your clothes, then into the shower. When he heard the shower come on, he texted the boys to let them know he’d found you and they could call off the search. He didn’t add other details, not ready to share or even knowing what he should say to them, really.

With that done, he put his phone down on the counter, ignoring the way it vibrated over and over again, the boys undoubtedly bombarding him with questions. He figured you’d probably want a hot meal, and opened the fridge to see if he could cook anything. Seokjin would definitely be cooking up a storm for you and would load his car up with containers full of food tomorrow, but for tonight, he had to make do. There were a few threadbare ingredients that were left over from the last time you’d gone grocery shopping and he pulled them out hesitantly. It had honestly been too long since he’d cooked – when you were around, you usually took care of it and he’d been living off delivery food while you were gone.

Out of practice, he nevertheless gave it the good old college try, chopping up the onion and meat and attempting to make doenjang jjigae. He knew it was comforting for you, and it was for him too, especially after you’d made it for him during his heat. Unfortunately, when he tried to cook the stew, it turned into a mess somehow, with the onions burning and sticking to the pot, the doenjang starting to smoke, and the meat turning an unappetizing colour. Panicked, he started cursing while trying to scrape the food off the bottom of the pot.

The bathroom door swung open when you heard him, and you came out silently, nudging him aside to see what was happening. Without a word, you turned the stove off and started scraping burnt bits of food off the pan and into the bin. “Sorry,” Taehyung said, hovering awkwardly behind you. He’d never felt lower in his life. Could he do nothing right?

“It’s all right,” you murmured. “I’m not that hungry anyway. I might just turn in.”

His wolf whined in misery at the thought of you actually going to bed hungry, and he might have let a little noise slip, because your gaze snapped up towards him, before looking away. Your shirt was fisted in your hands again, and he forced himself to calm down. The fact that you were now afraid of him filled him with so much despair and hurt. He would genuinely throw himself off a bridge if it would make you smile again, just for a second.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll call delivery,” he said. He reached out to grab your hand, but thought better of it and snatched it back before making contact.

“Okay,” you agreed, your head still down. “Thank you, Taehyung-oppa.”

“Do you want to go sit down while I call them?” he asked, nodding towards the living room. You nodded and made your way to the couch where you perched on the very edge of the cushion, holding yourself stiffly with your hands in your lap.

Looking over sadly at you, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number for the restaurant that he knew was your favourite, ordering your food and his. He made sure to get additional side dishes, his wolf wanting nothing more than to provide for his mate.

When the food arrived, he busied himself taking it all out of the big basket and setting up the table as you drifted closer hesitantly. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, he watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as your lips turned up in a slight smile seeing your favourite black bean noodles, with sweet and sour pork on the side. It wasn’t much – before, you would have clapped your hands with glee and sit down eagerly – but to him, it felt like a victory anyway. Like maybe he could do this, take care of you and win back your affection.

You picked up your chopsticks and dug in, eating with a haste that he’d never seen before. You’d always been a bit of a slow eater, claiming you wanted to savour the food, but now you were wolfing it down like you didn’t know when you’d get to eat again, and it broke his heart all over again that you’d experienced hunger. You were his – his responsibility, his mate – and he’d failed you so miserably. The thought made his stomach flip unpleasantly and he found himself slowing down, losing his appetite at the thought of how much you’d undoubtedly suffered.

When you were done with your noodles – and most of the pork and side dishes – you started casting furtive glances over at his bowl of stew, and he pushed his bowl towards you without you having to ask. It was a striking reversal of the way you’d taken care of him during his pre-heat, and he was just now realizing how much responsibility you’d taken around the house since you came to live with him after his military service ended.

You hadn’t felt so full in weeks, and you sat back with a satisfied sigh when you’d drained Taehyung’s bowl as well. Your stomach hurt from how much you’d eaten, but it was a nice feeling, after the near-constant hunger pangs for the past three weeks. Moving sluggishly, you went to pack the empty bowls back into the bucket, but Taehyung stopped you. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Go get some rest, you look beat.”

Since you were exhausted, you didn’t argue with him, just getting up and heading to your bedroom. Taehyung watched, slightly wounded that you didn’t want to spend the night with him like you used to, but also not wanting to say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. “Good night,” he called, regretting it instantly when you leapt into the air at the sound of his voice.

“Good night,” you responded softly, and it was only his enhanced wolf hearing that allowed him to pick it up. Sighing, he finished cleaning up and put the basket back outside the door.

Being back in your bedroom felt almost surreal, after living on that streets and then in that tent. Everything was the same as it was before, when you were so different, it was like you didn’t fit in there anymore. The cute room with the cozy patterned bedspread, the overstuffed, oversized chair and reading nook… it was for another person, someone who didn’t exist anymore.

Still, you tried your best to block the thoughts out of your head as you pulled back the duvet to slide under it, fidgeting to try and get comfortable. Closing your eyes tight, you snuggled into the pillows, falling into the fitful, restless sleep that you’d gotten used to.

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Taehyung lay in the dark in his room, his eyes wide open. Having you in the next room over instead of in his bed next to him felt wrong, somehow, but even though he wanted nothing more than to slide into bed with you, or better yet, bring you to his room, his uncertainty and guilt kept him where he was.

He must have spent hours just lying there, listening to you toss and turn and whimper in your sleep, each sound twisting the knife. You’d always been such a deep, easy sleeper, knocking right out every night and sleeping peacefully till morning. It was his fault you’d changed, and he tortured himself all night imagining all the horrors you’d been through during the past few weeks.

When sunlight started shining through his curtains, he decided he’d had enough of lying there, and got out of bed. Still in his pajamas, he left his room and walked the small distance to yours to wake you up. Standing over your bed, he watched for a moment as you continued fussing in your sleep, a small frown etched into your features.

It had been a while since he’d done this, but years of waking you up meant that the muscle memory came back to him easy as he leaned over you and patted your side. “Hey… wake up,” he called softly.

You stirred and, clearly only half-awake, slurred, “Okay… you want a handjob?”

“I- what? Y/n…”

Your hand fought its way out of the covers and you held it out, palm up. “Come on…” you yawned.

“Y/n-ie… stop it.” Taehyung’s voice trembled as he saw the way you were holding your hand out, your fingers loosely curled. He put his hand in yours and placed it back onto the bed.

A little more awake now, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and squinted up at him. “Taehyung-oppa? Good morning,” you murmured in your soft, slightly scratchy morning voice. “Do you need breakfast?”

He hesitated. You looked so small and innocent in your bed now that he almost wondered if he’d hallucinated your earlier interaction. You continued looking at him, looking more alert, and he knew you were waiting for an answer.

“No,” he finally said. “Do you want to come to the studio with me today? We can grab some food on the way, and I’m sure the others are excited to see you too.”

You blinked and yawned again, before pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Okay,” you agreed. “Let me just get ready.” Sluggishly, you got out of bed, twisting your back to stretch while Taehyung made himself scarce, going to get dressed. When he was done, you ducked into the bathroom to do your thing, carrying your clothes in with you.

When you emerged, you looked fresh and adorable, in a simple white blouse and blue jeans, and anyone who wasn’t looking too closely or didn’t know you would have thought you were merely another pampered pet human. Taehyung, though, could see the way the clothes hung off you a little too loosely, the sharper edge of your jawline and cheekbones from weight loss, and most of all, could smell the scent of other men on you that even your shower last night hadn’t been able to get off.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast today?” he asked as you put your shoes on. He opened the front door and extended his other arm towards you, intending at first to usher you out with his hand on your lower back like he usually did, but he saw the way you stood a little more stiffly at the anticipation of his hands on you and dropped it awkwardly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised and hurt at your hesitance. If you wanted nothing more to do with him, it was still more than he deserved.

He took you to a little restaurant for porridge that was near the BigHit building, watching carefully as you downed the entire bowl in record-breaking time. Usually you were too busy chatting with him and telling him about your day, or random things you’d seen, or something you’d read in a book, but now you were silent, your head down as you shoveled food into your mouth. In an attempt to break the silence, Taehyung asked, “Did you sleep well?” even though he knew the answer to the question.

It didn’t work, anyway. You just looked up at him, wide-eyed, for a second, before nodding and returning to your food. Sighing in defeat, he lapsed into silence too. If this was the new normal, he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. At least you were eating well – it soothed his wolf slightly, to know that his mate was eating well.

When you were finished with your meal – even licking the spoon clean dramatically – he took you to the studio, where the boys, as anticipated, glomped you the moment you set foot in the door. Jimin was basically in tears as he hugged you and wouldn’t let go, even when the others came forth for their turn. Namjoon, however, hovered back, hesitant to greet you. In the heat of the moment, with Taehyung’s turmoil and misery in his face, it had been easy to justify his own role in the entire debacle, but now that he was looking straight at you, and seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on your body, the guilt sat uncomfortably in his chest.

Soon enough, you were back in your usual spot – on the couch, squished between Yoongi on one side and Jimin on the other, listening absently as they discussed their album and comeback with the managers and executives. Feeling warm and full from the porridge, your eyelids started to droop, and Yoongi, always alert and aware, gently took the book from your loose grasp and closed it, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung, watching from the adjacent couch, frowned, barely paying attention to what Bang PD was saying. He knew you hadn’t slept well last night, and the more rational side of him was relieved that you were at least getting some rest, even if you didn’t seem that comfortable. If he had his way, you would be lying down on a couch somewhere in a dark room where you could get some proper sleep. His wolf wanted to tear Yoongi to shreds, snarling in jealousy at the older man. It should be his shoulder you were currently drooling all over, your face adorably smushed into the fabric of his shirt.

Reminding himself harshly that you weren’t comfortable around him anymore, and really, whose fault was that, he forced himself to look away, although his jaw remained clenched, an outward sign of his irritation. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions to himself, but he figured he’d better damn well get good at it now, if he was going to keep all his problematic emotions to himself and avoid making you feel even more unsafe around him.

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For almost a month, you and Taehyung danced around each other, trying to stay out of each other’s way. You didn’t want to do anything that might set him off again or remind him of why he’d kicked you out in the first place, and Taehyung was practically bending over backwards to give you the space he thought you needed to heal. As a result, the apartment was very quiet for most of the day, an oppressive silence that hung like a shroud over you.

Since you weren’t talking much to Taehyung, you were always happy to go with him to the studio, where the other boys were more than willing to entertain you. They’d realized quickly that you were a lot jumpier than before, which was understandable, so they tried not to do anything that would give you a fright. For the most part, you were all right with physical contact (other than with Taehyung, which upset him tremendously) but once in a while an innocent brush against you could remind you of the way Big Bang would touch you, and you’d leap into the air to get away from it.

It was Yoongi, who let you sit on the couch in his studio most days, who finally broached the topic after he tried to usher you into the studio with his hand on your back and you almost burst into tears. He sat you down on the couch and squatted in front of you, holding your hands and pleading for you to please tell him what was wrong for about half an hour before you caved and admitted that you might have some trauma from living on the streets. It was another twenty minutes of cajoling before you told him, in the smallest voice possible, that you’d had to use your body to survive.

“You… what?” Yoongi was so shocked by your confession that he lost his balance and fell, sitting ungracefully at your feet. Thinking he was reacting this way out of disgust, you covered your face with your hands and drew your shoulders in.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted; you’d thought you’d been doing well with hiding everything and dealing with it alone. Now that Yoongi knew, the rest of the boys would know that you were filthy, disgusting… you couldn’t stop the sob from tearing out of your chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, putting his shock and anger aside in the face of your clear distress. He wanted to flip a table, maybe set fire to something, but you were more important right now. His hands fluttered helplessly by your knees, wanting to comfort you but not sure how to. Your adverse reaction to the boys’ touch made so much sense now, and he didn’t want to accidentally trigger you again and upset you further.

In the end, he took your hand and placed it on top of his head, letting you stroke his soft, fluffy leopard ears. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you, and you smiled a little past the tears as you scratched the base of them, just like he let you do when you were a child. He didn’t want to force you to speak, but slowly coaxed everything out of you. Once you started talking about your experiences, it was like the words fell out of you, so relieved to finally be able to tell someone after keeping it to yourself for weeks as you tried to pretend like you were the same innocent human you’d been before being cast out.

Eventually, Yoongi managed to get you to fall asleep for a much-needed nap on his couch after you’d cried yourself out. His heart broke as he looked at you lying on the couch on your side, so small and delicate. You looked almost breakable, and the thought of you having to use that precious body to survive because of Taehyung made his fists clench by his side in rage. Turning down the lights so you would be able to rest properly, he left his studio, making sure to close the door quietly to avoid waking you up even though he wanted to slam it in his rage.

Taehyung was sitting in a meeting room with Jungkook and Jimin, and when Yoongi burst through the entrance, all of them looked up. “Suga-hyung, what’s up?” Jimin greeted.

Ignoring him, Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, yanked him by the shirtfront out of his seat and decked him across the face. Shocked and unprepared for the hit, Taehyung sprawled on the floor, only to prop himself up by the elbow a second later, cradling his jaw with his hand and looking up at Yoongi with wide, hurt eyes.

“Suga-hyung, stop!” Jimin cried as Jungkook all but leapt across the table in the room to restrain the older man. The two bystanders exchanged panicked glances, not sure why Yoongi was suddenly attacking Taehyung. As irritable and snarky as the rapper was, it was almost impossible to get him truly angry, and he was clearly fuming right now.

Furious at the sudden attack, Taehyung surged up off the floor. “What the fuck was that for?!” he roared, pulling back to return Yoongi’s punch with one of his own. Jimin hurried over to pull Taehyung back before the situation descended into a brawl.

“You’re garbage,” Yoongi sneered. “Ask Y/n what it was for.” With that, he pulled himself out of Jungkook’s grasp, glared at Taehyung once more, and left the room, unable to stand being in the same room as him anymore.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Jimin fretted over his best friend, taking his chin in his hand and turning his face from one side to the other to see what the damage was. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he instructed, tugging on Taehyung’s hand so the wolf hybrid had no choice but to trail after Jimin, his ears drooping.

“What do you think that was about?” Jimin asked in the bathroom as he wetted a wad of paper towels in the sink.

Taehyung, leaning against the wall beside the sinks, shrugged, meeting Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. “Hell if I know,” he grumbled, still bitter. “I can’t believe hyung would do something like that,” he sulked.

Starting to dab at the busted lip to clean it up, Jimin ignored Taehyung’s hiss of pain and subsequent whines. “You know hyung isn’t the type to do something like that out of the blue… we can go talk to him later, okay? Find out what’s wrong.”

Taehyung started to protest, but Jimin’s glare and the way he pressed a little harder on the split lip he was tending to made him subside, pouting.

Since Taehyung could be a big baby and Jimin had an obsessive need to take care of everyone around him, it took a while before Taehyung was deemed patched up enough to go talk to Yoongi. As he made his way down the hallway to Yoongi’s studio, he fumed silently about his hyung’s weird behavior.

By the time he got to the door of Yoongi’s studio, he’d worked himself back up into a rage, and pounded on the door loudly to announce his presence. “Hyung, open up!” he yelled.

The racket he was making woke you up abruptly, and you jolted awake, gasping as you shot up into a sitting position. A quick glance over at Yoongi told you that he hadn’t heard Taehyung at all, since he was still working, with his giant expensive noise-cancelling headphones on. Since he was occupied, you went to open the door yourself to let Taehyung in.

Taehyung’s arm was still up, poised to knock, when you opened the door. He stared at you with wide eyes, not having expected you and feeling slightly abashed now that you’d seen his childish tantrum. “Ah, Y/n-ie… I didn’t know you were here,” he greeted, dropping his arm to his side.

You, on the other hand, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing his split lip, you gasped in horror, and in your panic, the artificial distance you’d been imposing for the past month slipped away. “Tae-oppa!” you cried, your hands flying to his face. “What happened to you?” With the pads of your fingers, you stroked gently over the reddened skin around the cut, wincing.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him over to the couch and sat him down, continuing to fret over him. Taehyung, for his part, sat quietly and let you do what you wanted, just happy to have you near him again. All his anger evaporated as he smiled at you like a fool, ignoring the way it made his lip sting.

Yoongi, who’d turned around in his chair and slipped his headphones down around his neck, frowned at the sight that greeted him. You were kneeling on the couch next to Taehyung, leaning over him while he held your wrist in his hand, stroking gently along the soft skin on your inner wrist.

At the sound of Yoongi clearing his throat, you jumped, tearing your wrist out of Taehyung’s grasp, to look over at the rapper. The interruption was enough to startle you out of your frantic concern for him, and you sat down on the couch, your hands in your lap as you tried to make yourself smaller. “S-sorry,” you said to Taehyung, though it was directed at your hands. What would he think of you now? Getting all up in his personal space, even after he’d made it so clear that he didn’t want to be involved with you like that. You really needed to get a grip if you were going to remain his pet, you thought. No way in hell were you going back to being homeless.

“It’s all right,” Taehyung murmured, responding to you habitually. Now that you weren’t in his personal space anymore, though, his anger started coming back, and he trained his gaze on Yoongi, his jaw flexing with his irritation. Yoongi met his gaze with equal measure, neither of them backing down.

You were so consumed by your own thoughts that you didn’t realise the tension between them, asking Taehyung obliviously, “So what happened to your face, anyway?”

There was a beat of silence, then Yoongi replied smoothly, “He must have walked into a door.” As he said it, he pinned Taehyung with a warning gaze, as if daring him to disagree with his lie.

An awkward moment later, Taehyung agreed. “Yes… I was distracted,” he offered as an excuse.

Watching the way Yoongi looked at you, with a small frown knitting his brow, Taehyung remembered what Yoongi had said earlier, about asking you what the punch was for. He broke eye contact with Yoongi to look over at you instead, although you still refused to look up at him, preferring to focus instead on your lap, where your hands were folded politely.

“Anyway, Y/n-ie… I’m not needed for the rest of the day. Do you want to go home early?” Taehyung figured that whatever it was he was supposed to ask you about, it was probably best to do it in private. He didn’t have his own studio, so his apartment was the best bet.

“Sure,” you agreed immediately. You’d been doing that a lot lately, just going with whatever he wanted or suggested, unless you were protesting that he was spending too much time, money or effort on you. It was so completely different from the carefree girl who loved to go crazy with his credit cards and soaked up his affection that he’d known, and he hated himself again for causing you to withdraw like that. It had taken him so long to earn your trust back when you’d been a child and he adopted you, and now all of that was gone down the drain.

He stood up and you followed, trailing after him out of Yoongi’s studio with a smile and a wave that upset him all over again. He hadn’t had that cute, carefree smile directed at him for so long now, and again, he fucking knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier. For now, he had to be satisfied with seeing that smile only when it was directed at other people. At least, he thought bitterly, he’d succeeded in providing a good support network for you.

When you got home, after yet another awkward car ride filled with stilted small talk, Taehyung sat you down on the couch, wanting to talk to you but unsure of how to bring it up. You looked at him inquiringly as he stuttered through several aborted attempts to start the conversation, stopping each time with a frown and a hum.

Finally, he managed to ask, in a tone he hoped was neutral, “Did you and Suga-hyung talk about anything interesting today?”

You visibly stiffened, and he wondered if it was his words or his failure to feign nonchalance. “Why do you ask?” you responded cautiously, and he could see your walls going up.

“Just something Suga-hyung said,” Taehyung waved his hand in the air.

You cursed Yoongi inwardly for selling you out, and so quickly, at that. “Uh, we just talked about some stuff that happened last month,” you said vaguely. Neither of you were necessarily comfortable talking about the time you’d spent on the streets, and you tried to tiptoe around it out of consideration for Taehyung, but he understood what you were trying to say anyway.

“Uh-huh, like what?” he prompted, undeterred.

Your shoulders hunched defensively around your ears. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, and started to get up to beat a hasty retreat to your room.

Taehyung reached out in a panic and grabbed your hand. “No, please, tell me what you told him,” he pleaded, looking up at you with that sad expression that you’d never been able to resist.

You sighed. “Why do you even want to know?” you asked, slumping back onto the couch in resignation.

Taehyung frowned. “Of course I want to know,” he countered immediately. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked in concern now.

You shrugged. “I don’t like talking about it, and it’ll just upset you,” you explained in a small voice.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was filled with sadness. “Please, tell me about it.” He scooted slightly closer to you and took your hands in his.

“Taehyung-oppa…”

“I understand if you’re not ready to tell me,” he admitted. It stung to acknowledge the possibility that you were more comfortable talking to Yoongi about this than to Taehyung, when he’d always been your caretaker, the one you’d gone to for everything. “But if you’re willing to tell me, I really do want to know, so we can figure out the best way to help you.”

You swallowed. “All right,” you agreed hesitantly, then lapsed into silence as you thought about how you should explain what had happened. You didn’t want Taehyung to judge you, but then again, Yoongi hadn’t either, so maybe your fears about that had been overblown.

After a little more hemming and hawing as you tried to muster up the courage to talk about it, you finally said, “Do you remember the guys that I was living with?”

Taehyung nodded, slightly confused, but didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to continue speaking when you were ready.

“Well, uh… they agreed to take me in and all, but it wasn’t for free,” you said, trying to skirt around the topic, hoping he would get it without you having to spell it out in so many words.

Of course, Taehyung just gave you a blank stare, as if waiting for you to finish your thought. You sighed. “They proposed, like, a trade,” you continued, willing him with your mind to just understand what you were trying to say already, damn it.

When his expression didn’t change, you gave up on hoping he would understand your hints. “I only had myself and didn’t have much to offer, so they, uh… theymademeusemybody,” you rushed out the last part of your sentence so softly it was almost like a whisper, but with Taehyung’s sharper hearing, courtesy of his hybrid senses, he picked it up perfectly.

Only, with what he’d heard, he wished he hadn’t. He stared at you imploringly, his ears folded down against his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. “Wh-what?” His voice wobbled, unable to believe what he’d heard. You avoided his gaze by turning your face away, not wanting to see the expression on his face. You didn’t need his pity.

“Y/n…” Taehyung tightened his grasp on your hands. “I’m so sorry.” The emotion behind the simple words caught you off guard, and you turned back to look at him. He was staring straight at you, his eyes huge and filled with distress (and tears). A sob that he couldn’t quite hold back tore out of his chest and you watched, with some disbelief, as he completely broke down in front of you.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you murmured, trying to extricate one hand from his grasp. Panicked, he held on even tighter, unwilling to let you go and afraid that you would leave if he did. He was so upset it physically hurt all over. As an owner, he was distraught that his thoughtless actions had caused you to suffer like that. His baser instincts, however, prodded him to hunt down the humans who’d forced you into such a position. How dare they make such profane, disgusting, exploitative demands of you, his imprint, his mate?

And yet, wasn’t it all his fault? He was the one who’d kicked you out, so you had no other choice but to accept it. Everything that had happened to you while you were living on the streets had happened because of him, because he was a thoughtless, stupid, irresponsible, owner. It would serve him right if you left, although he couldn’t bear for you to. Clearly, he’d shown that he was an unfit owner.

He was so lost in his self-hatred that he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing your hands which were folded in his bigger ones until you made a quiet noise of discomfort, flexing your hands in his grasp. Horrified, he let go of them as if scalded, appalled that he was hurting you yet again.

Instead of immediately taking off, however, you reached up to cradle the side of his face, wiping his tears away with your thumb. As much as you’d resented him, you couldn’t see his sadness without wanting to comfort him. It was somewhat strange – you’d always seen him as the rock, the constant in your life. Always there for you, always in your corner. That was gone now. You knew firsthand how he could be, how much you suffered because of him. Yet there were still those memories that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop holding close to your heart. Of being tucked into bed by him, spoilt rotten and cuddled during what had to be the most pampered adolescence possible. Part of you was vindictively pleased that he was so upset, since it was what he deserved, but there was another part that didn’t like seeing him suffer.

When he felt your hand on his face, Taehyung felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. It would have made more sense to him if you’d slapped or punched him, but this tender touch, after all you’d been through because of him… he didn’t deserve you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, as if saying the words could dispel the heavy guilt he felt.

Because you weren’t a saint after all, you couldn’t resist twisting the knife. You knew you should appreciate how apologetic he was now that he knew what had happened, but there was also a spark of irritation within you. Why did he get to cry and make a fuss, when you couldn’t? You were comforting him when all the things he was upset about had happened to you, because of him.

“If you were sorry,” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t have kicked me out to begin with.” There was no malice in your tone, which was quiet and neutral, but it was abundant in your words. This was all his doing, and he shouldn’t get to wail dramatically about it like he was the victim.

Taehyung swallowed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged immediately. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it better for you,” he implored, his wide, tear-filled eyes looking at you earnestly.

“Tell me why you did it.” You never raised your voice, staying unmoved in the face of his clear anguish.

“Okay,” he agreed instantly, almost before the last word left your mouth. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just please… don’t leave.”

You folded your hands neatly in your lap and prepared to listen. To be honest, you’d thought you would be able to predict whatever he was going to say. He was furious about you coercing him into a sexual relationship when he wasn’t in his right frame of mind, he would confess, and after thinking about it, he’d gotten so angry that he acted impulsively. You could almost hear the words inside your head already – they were the same reasons you’d been repeating to yourself, over and over again.

“I was mad,” Taehyung admitted, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “And I acted rashly.” He hadn’t wanted to tell you about the imprint, hoping that he could deal with it by himself so he wouldn’t give you yet another thing to worry and stress over, but you’d asked, and he couldn’t reject your request. Not when he knew how much you’d suffered because of him. You nodded, like you’d expected him to say that.

What he said next, however, took you completely by surprise.

“Namjoon-hyung told me…” he stopped to swallow and gather himself, then started again. “I know you think that during my last heat –” you both flushed, thinking about what had happened then – “that was new, but it wasn’t.”

Your gaze sharpened and focused on him, listening more carefully to what he had to say now. “I’d been struggling since my discharge from the military,” he continued. Damn, this was hard to say. “Namjoon-hyung helped me look into it, and he found…”

He paused to muster some courage, running his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “He found what?” you prompted, leaning forward curiously. You hadn’t voluntarily come this close to him for a month, he noted. His wolf preened.

“Uh, he found evidence of… hybrid technology that he believes is the cause. He called it,” he coughed to delay it a little longer, “an imprint. It’s a genetic quirk that was created in predator hybrids to ensure that they could bond with their human owners.”

You blinked. “I’m not your owner,” you said dumbly. It was so much to take in, that bit was the only thing your mind could focus on and grasp.

“I know,” he nodded, “but because we spent so much time together in our adolescence the bond had a chance to form, and after spending two years apart, it kicked in because you’d reached…” He grimaced, not really wanting to say it, and waved his hand at you vaguely instead.

You understood well enough what he was trying to say and blanched. “Gross…” you muttered under your breath, but Taehyung heard it and his shoulders slumped further. Of course you were horrified and disgusted at him – you should be. For the first time, he wondered if you would have been better off on the streets – at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with him and this genetic abnormality. He’d forced you into every difficult situation you’d faced since coming back to him after his military service, and it was only natural that you were appalled by his revelation.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He was saying that a lot, but no matter how many times he uttered the words, they were never enough to convey the depth of his remorse and sorrow over what he’d done to you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” his head fell into your lap as he cried.

You started stroking his head and ears, the habit you’d developed from years of being around him making you move your hand automatically to soothe him as you tried to sort out your thoughts. Hybrid technology… a genetic quirk… that meant humans had been responsible for what Taehyung was going through. You were more educated than most humans, which meant you understood very well the history between humans and hybrids. Humans had created hybrids and enslaved them, treating them as chattel – pets, workhorses, you name it.

And now, you were continuing to be the source of a hybrid’s pain and suffering. Had humans not done enough? Their destructive legacy continued to live on in the bodies of the hybrids they’d created, and while Taehyung had been struggling with it by himself, you’d been living in blissful ignorance, resenting him for what he’d done.

Taehyung cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore, then he just lay with his head in your lap, the occasional hiccup making him jerk slightly. After a while, you turned your head to look out the window – the sun was setting, you noted.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you called softly, shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You should get to bed.”

He stirred slightly, then tried to go back to sleep, but you pushed him back into a sitting position. “Come on, Tae-oppa,” you said, standing up and tugging on his hand. He followed you as you led him to his room, but wouldn’t let go of your hand once you’d gotten him settled in bed.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he croaked.

You eyed him dubiously for a second, not sure if it was a good idea, especially in light of what you’d just learned. But with his sad expression, the dejected slump of his shoulders and the way his ears flopped over his head, you couldn’t say no to anything he asked. Especially not with the newfound guilt you were carrying around.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Just let me wash up and I’ll come back.”

When you tiptoed back into Taehyung’s room, scrubbed down and in your pajamas, you thought he was asleep from the way he was curled up under the sheets. You quietly pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and got in slowly, trying not to jostle him awake, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, since the moment you were settled into the mattress he squirmed closer to you, wrapping his arms and legs around you and pressing his face into your neck.

With a small sigh, you settled into his hold.

---------------------------------------------

“Y/n… I don’t understand.” Namjoon’s brow was furrowed as he looked up at you, standing in his studio.

“Namjoon-oppa… I know you know about the imprint, and you told Taehyung-oppa about it,” you told him.

“Right… but I don’t know why you’re asking me this.”

“It’s not complicated – I just want to know if there’s a way to break the imprint.”

Namjoon hesitated. It was something he’d been looking into nonstop as well, hoping to find something that would set both you and Taehyung free. It didn’t seem to be possible, though – the genetic bond was not designed to be broken, especially since hybrids had been considered so disposable. If anything went wrong, euthanasia of hybrids had been just as commonly accepted as euthanasia of regular pets.

“There isn’t,” he admitted. “The only cases where a hybrid was able to move on from the imprint…” he gulped, not sure whether he should tell you.

“What is it?” you asked impatiently. “Namjoon-oppa, please. I’m trying to help Taehyung-oppa, just like you are,” you pleaded. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Stop asking!” Backed into a corner now, he snarled at you, his ears pressed back against his head. “There’s nothing you can do, okay? Just drop it.”

“Namjoon-oppa, please. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it. I’ll do anything it takes to help Taehyung-oppa break his imprint.”

That got his attention. “Anything?” This was crazy… it was way too much to ask of you.

“Anything,” you confirmed resolutely. He could see your determination in the set of your jaw and the way your gaze met his unwaveringly.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Ah, this is crazy…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

“The only recorded cases where a hybrid was able to move on from an imprint… is when the object of the imprint passed away.”

#btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btswritersnet #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #hybrid taehyung #bts hybrid #bts hybrid au #bts future au #bts scenarios #bts fic #dont ask dont tell

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justlookfrightened · 7 years

Text

Puppy steps

This is to fill a prompt from @tibean2992. I have one more prompt I’m working on, but if anyone has any other zimbits prompts, please send them along!

Also, it got pretty long, so most of it is under a cut.

It hit Bitty’s nose first.

He unlocked the door to the condo, picked up the reusable grocery bags from his feet and shouldered the door open and was assaulted by the smell.

He groaned and put the bags in the kitchen, barely pausing to note the empty dog crate that stood there, and followed the odor to the guest bedroom. Whose rug was now decorated with a literal steaming pile of crap.

Lord.

“Belinda!” he called.

No response.

He went looking and found the dog sitting in the master bedroom, facing the door, just waiting for him. Her brown eyes were warm and her forehead was furrowed slightly, as though she was worried or confused.

Bitty forced himself to take a deep breath. Through his mouth.

Seeing that the dog (puppy, he reminded himself) did not appear sick and was not currently engaged in act of destruction helped him calm down, and he remembered not to scold the dog for something that probably happened, what, maybe 15 minutes ago? The crap was still steaming after all.

Instead, he tried to keep his tone neutral as he said, “And just what were you doing loose in the house by yourself? Did you use those big eyes on Jack and make him feel too guilty to put you in your crate before he left for practice? I swear, I am going to have to have a talk with that boy. Again. For now, let me clean up and we can take it right to the dumpster when we head out for our walk.”

Belinda, with her gangly legs and broad shoulders, heard the word walk and popped up, butting the backs of his legs with her head as he fetched paper towels, a scrub brush, a plastic bag and disinfectant.

“Nope, you’re just gonna have to wait, Belly,” Bitty said.

He cleaned up thoroughly, then put on his coat and hat and snapped Belinda’s pink harness around her chest and shoulders. Jack hadn’t looked thrilled at the choice, but Bitty overruled him.

“First, it looks great against her black coat,” he’d said. “Second, she’s a six-month-old, obnoxious, rambunctious pit bull, Jack, and she’s not going to do anything but grow. You know she’s sweet and affectionate, and I know she’s sweet and affectionate, but a lot of people will look at her and think she’s vicious just because.”

Belinda had been with them for three months now, and mostly she was doing fine, Bitty thought. But she still couldn’t always be trusted alone in the house, and she would eat anything put in front of her, and some things not put in front of her. Bitty’s work at training her to walk nicely on her leash was paying dividends, at least most of the time, and by now, nearly all the people in the building were happy to see her.

If only Jack were as easy to train.

******************************

The scent of dinner bubbling on the stove drew Jack into the kitchen as soon as he got home. Bits was at the counter cutting apples while the chicken stew simmered and Belinda sat at his feet, looking up to make sure she caught any pieces that happened to fall.

Jack stepped up behind Bitty and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Smells good,” he said. “But isn’t it a little late to start a pie?”

“Hush your mouth,” Bitty said. “It’s never too late to make pie.”

“I guess I was hoping it was for dessert,” Jack said, stooping over to scratch behind Belinda’s ears. “How are you, baby girl?”

Bitty harrumphed and said, “It is for dessert, and it’s not pie. I’m making a cobbler than can bake while we’re eating.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said. “Want me to set the table?”

“You didn’t ask why I’m making cobbler instead of pie,” Bitty said.

“Ok, Jack said. “Why cobbler instead of pie?”

“Because I didn’t have time for pie because when I got home from the market, Belinda was not in her crate,” he said. “She was in our bedroom. The pile of poop she left was in the guest bedroom.”

“Merde,” Jack said.

“Precisely,” Bitty said. “I had to clean the rug, and air the place out, and now you don’t get pie. What will it take to get you to put Belinda in her crate? She’s safer there, where there are no wires or anything to chew on, and she doesn’t have accidents there.”

“I know, I know,” Jack said. “But she doesn’t like it, and I was gone all last week, and I don’t want to be the guy who just locks her in the cage. Besides, you were only going to be out another hour or so.”

Bitty shook his head and muttered something Jack couldn’t quite hear, although he thought he heard the word “children.”

“She doesn’t like being separated from us,” Bitty said. “If you’re going out anyway, she’ll settle right down and go to sleep. Which she also needs to do because she’s still a growing girl. If you leave her out, she finds ways to amuse herself, and she gets herself in trouble, Jack. She could hurt herself.”

When Jack went down the hall toward the bedrooms to change, he detected the faint scent of disinfectant.

“Belinda, ma belle, you can’t do that,” he said to the dog, who was following him. “If you can’t behave, you are going to have to stay in the crate when you’re alone. Bitty’s right.”

Bitty was usually right, Jack reflected. But they had agreed on adopting Belinda.

It had been Jack’s idea to get a dog. He was gone so much during the season, and Bitty spent so much time on his own. Bitty had gotten a job as a communications and marketing consultant for non-profits, but it was based in Boston and Bits worked four days a week out of the condo. He was also putting together a cookbook for a small publisher – Jack’s parents had taken to promoting Bitty’s vlog on their own social media accounts, his subscription numbers had soared, and people started taking notice. Bitty hadn’t gotten any advance on the book, but he’d been thrilled to have an actual publisher interested.

Jack was glad things were going well for Bitty, but Bitty's commitments meant that most of his social interaction when Jack was gone was over the internet. Sure, sometimes he took his laptop to the coffeeshop on the corner, but Bitty should have more regular company.

And Bitty had been eager once Jack suggested getting a dog. He’d pulled up the websites for a few local shelters that very evening, and started reading up on their adoption requirements.

Jack had been just as excited; he’d always wanted a dog when he was growing up, but his mother had always said no because they all traveled so much, and he was too young to take proper care of a pet anyway. Then he’d gone into Q and lived in a billet and, well, it was just never right. But now he was settled, and Bitty was there, and it seemed like the perfect time.

A week of so after they started looking at the websites, a young beagle mix appeared on one of them. He was adorable, not tiny, but not too big, active. And his name was Stanley. It seemed like fate.

But Jack had a roadie, and the shelter required everyone in the household to come in to adopt a dog, so they couldn’t go in for another five days. The day after Jack got home, Bitty checked the website while Jack was at morning skate, and Stanley was still listed as being available. When they arrived and asked about him, though, they were told that he had gone home with his new family only an hour earlier.

Jack was ready to leave, but Bitty wanted to walk through the dog room “just to see.” At that point, Jack had been pretty sure they’d be leaving with a dog.

The first one Jack’s eyes lit on was a smaller mutt, probably part spaniel, with a white and light brown coat and spritely way of jumping up on the door of her cage. Bitty looked longingly at a husky with dramatic coloring and icy blue eyes, but he dragged his eyes away when Jack said, “Those dogs need miles of walks or runs each day. Not really made for a condo.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said. “And imagine the shedding.”

Then they had seen Belinda, curled on the low bed in her cage with a stuffed toy between her legs. When they made eye contact, her brow had furrowed and she got up and came to the door. As soon as Bitty put his hand down, she licked his fingers and Jack had asked the shelter volunteer to get Belinda out so they could play with her.

She’d been theirs ever since. But really, Jack thought, Bitty’s. Bitty couldn’t sit on the couch without Belinda curling up against his side, usually snuffling at his neck or ear before she settled down. Jack knew she slept on his side of the bed when he was gone. She liked Jack, he knew she did, but if Belinda had an alpha, it was Bitty.

Jack went back to the kitchen and laid the table while Bitty slid the cobbler in the oven and pulled the salad from the fridge.

Then Jack poured water for both of them while Bitty carried the stew to the table. They both sat down, and Jack felt Belinda lie down under the table, her head on his foot.

“You’d best not be planning to feed her under the table,” Bitty said.

“A bite of chicken won’t kill her,” Jack said.

“No, but it will make her try to wheedle food out of every person who sits at our table. Do you want her doing that to Tater, or to your parents?”

“They wouldn’t mind,” Jack said.

“Mine would,” Bitty said. “If they ever visit. It’s like Coach says about his boys: It’s easier to teach them good habits to start than break bad habits later.”

Jack didn’t quite know how to answer that, but he didn’t have to. Bitty looked down at his plate and up again. “Oh my Lord,” he said. “I just quoted Coach.”

Jack chuckled. “I know,” he said. “But he’s right, so I guess you are too. I just want her to like me.”

“She does like you,” Bitty said.

“But she’s always with you,” Jack said. “And she’s really attached to you, which is good, but …”

Jack stopped, because it sounded silly to even say it. He just wanted to be part of it, instead of like an outsider.

“But what?” Bitty asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just, you two spend so much time together,” Jack said. “She looks at you like you created roast beef. You talk to her in that baby voice and let her lick your face all the time.”

“Are you jealous?” Bitty asked. “Really? You’re the one who wanted a dog in the first place. And I’m the one who walks her and feeds her and cleans up after her and tries to train her. Of course she’s attached to me! And of course I’m attached to her – she’s adorable! Have you seen her?”

“I know, Bits,” Jack said. “And I’m glad. Really. Never mind me. I’ll be better.”

Bitty was looking at him.

“No,” he said. “I mean, yes, by all means put her in her crate instead of leaving her loose, and if you want to give her a treat, do it away from the table. But don’t just act like how you feel doesn’t matter. I know you care about her just as much as I do. And you did so much research before we brought her home – if it wasn’t for that article you found I’d have had no idea dogs can’t have grapes. I guess it’s just the way it is right now – but your season will end eventually, and then we can divide up the work a little more. It’ll be fine.”

Jack started eating in earnest then, finally feeling like he’d been absolved of his guilt. After dinner, Bitty went into the office to get a little work done while Jack cleaned up the kitchen, and gave Belinda a few morsels of chicken in her dish.

Later that night, once he had crawled in bed next to Bitty, once Belinda had hopped off the bed and lay on the blanket near the bedroom door, Bitty curled into his side and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I made you feel left out,” Bitty said. “Tell you what. You can have all the … affection … you want from me. Right now or whenever. And if you need some bonding time with Belinda, well, you can have the early morning walk tomorrow.”

#zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #prompt fill #dogs

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