Dog Day Afternoon (Or; The Puppy Drabble Verse)
“Yusef…what do you mean you made him into…a puppy?”
“He was on my last bloody nerve, Arthur! Touching all my chemicals and poking around my apartment like he was one! I just forgot I was so deathly allergic to mutts and as soon as he changed I started up a fit of allergies.”
Yusef was the last person Arthur expected on his doorstep at five in the morning in the dead of winter, holding a rather dejected looking puppy. In fact, Arthur wished that for once he did not answer his door because honestly, if he hated anything in the world more than Eames’ bickering with him and any form of disorganization, it was small animals. Small animals that were barely three months along and most likely not even housebroken.
“You found it in an alley, didn’t you? Yusef…I hate animals. Hate them. They need constant care and they’re incompetent.”
“It’s Eames,” Yusef stated, holding the puppy out for Arthur to examine. Arthur recoiled as though it had the plague, only glancing back at it when one of the most pathetic sounding whines came from the small furry creature. “See? Even whines like Eames does.”
The puppy huffed and bit Yusef’s hand at that comment and Arthur rolled his eyes. Oh, yes, that had to be Eames then. Sighing, he opened the door to let Yusef inside. Yusef babbled out his thanks, promising to return to pick up Eames when the effects wore off in two days and Seriously, Arthur, thank you so much. I forgot how allergic I was!
Arthur locked the door behind Yusef, turning to face Eames with his hands on his hips. Eames was staring at the ground, and Arthur did not find it cute. No. No he did not think it was one of the most adorable sights; an eight pound and depressed puppy did not make him want to coo at it like a child. Sighing, Arthur rolled his eyes and started off towards his bedroom as he heard Eames fall over. He looked back at the puppy, now on it’s side looking more depressed than before, and scoffed, “Are you coming or what? It’s not like you aren’t used to sleeping in my bed.”
Arthur preferred his boyfriend in his normal, masculine glory but he wouldn’t object to the small personal space heater sitting in his bed for a few nights. Especially after it yipped, fucking yipped, at him as it rolled over and trotted off quickly on clumsy legs. He would claim at a later date that he did not cuddle the thing, christ. But if you asked Eames, he would tell you he felt like a teddy bear and had no issues with it at all.