Antonio has a cat.
He's a spoiled little cat. He hisses at him when his bowl isn't filled fast enough, and won't move out of Antonio's seat when they watch television in the evening. He has to take his drink and sit on the other side of the room, and as soon as he does the little cat becomes his best friend, curling around his legs for attention. When he doesn't get it, he looks at Antonio with such contempt, it's practically an eye-roll, and they both huff.
The cat sits on Antonio's paperwork while he's still writing, demanding his affection. He follows him around the house like a shadow and mewls and bats Antonio away when he goes after his pet. They fall out and the cat goes missing for hours, turning up at bedtime to sleep on Antonio's head and then cry all night. Antonio doesn't know where the cat goes, because it's definitely not hunting. The thing's never hunted a day in its life. If he's hungry, he stares at Antonio until food is put in front of him. The thought of the cat actually working for its keep is almost comical, now. Consequently, he was chubbier than the average feline, but Antonio never had the heart to say so out loud.
Antonio doesn't even like cats. But the kitten had turned up out of the blue, and whether or not he always liked his spoiled little cat, he loved him, and he always was and always would be Antonio's.
Lovino has a dog.
He's a fucking stupid dog. He lies at the bottom of Lovino's bed every night (even although he's too big to really fit) and barks whenever anyone opens the door, even if it's just Lovino's brother, and tells the intruder to shut up because they're trying to sleep. He follows Lovino down to the kitchen every morning and watches him make breakfast. Then he watches him eat, watches him watch the news, and watches him brush his teeth. Lovino used to put him in the hall while he showered or got dressed, but he sits and barks, then, too, telling him to hurry up, so now he watches Lovino in the nude as well. It doesn't seem to phase him very much. Nothing phases the dog very much. He just blinks up at his owner adoringly.
He only ever whines when he doesn't get any attention, or when Lovino yells at him because it's not time for his walk, and he'll be damned if he's taking that mutt out to roll in shit again when he's just been cleaned. Even considering he's a dog, he's a lunatic. Most dogs give up chasing birds when they nest in the trees, out of reach. Lovino's dog barks and howls at the bottom until he has something to take back home, wagging his tail as if Lovino should be exceptionally proud that there's a dead bird in his kitchen.
Lovino didn't even want a dog. The puppy was his brother's and the little thing doted on him at first, but soon found Lovino much more interesting, and has never left his side since. Of course Lovino hates the dog, but he is good company, if only he could be enjoyed in smaller doses. As it stands, Lovino sees him every minute of every day, and even when he's sleeping, the dog is ever vigilant at his post.
That might be why Lovino keeps him around. Constant protection. Complete adoration. And the stupid mutt expects absolutely nothing in return.
Lovino does not entirely hate the dog.
He goes absolutely spare when Lovino clips the lead onto his collar, tugging him forward because they're not going fast enough, and it's really sunny today, and there's a man with a hat on to bark at, and there's a red car and a lamppost and a bumblebee and-
The dog goes stock still and silent and points his nose to a side street. Lovino is about to tell him he's a fucking liability when the dog murmurs, then barks like the buildings have started falling around them. Lovino crouches to calm him down, panicking, and a cat flies out of the alley, screeching. Its claws barely miss Lovino's calf, and his dog goes into hysterics - half-growling and threatening the beast for being dangerous and yapping like a terrier in excitement. He nearly loses his head when a man stumbles out of the alley and dashes after the cat. There's another round of squealing and shouting and scratching and barking, and then the man is breathing heavily, frowning at the little cat in his arms, which is both curling against his chest and scowling, if cats could do so.
"You found my cat for me," Antonio tells Lovino sheepishly, looking up at him and smiling. It is a very relaxed smile, despite the scratches all over his arms, all of varying ages, some scarred and some fresh and red from the scuffle. "We had a fight and he didn't come home, I got worried, you know?" Antonio went on, picking up the cat and pouting. It hissed half-heartedly and licked his face.
"I don't care," replies Lovino, because no one can say he's not honest. "Watch where you put that thing."
Antonio nods and stares at Lovino, blinking and looking dopey while he grins. "Of course, of course, sorry, did he get you?"
"Close enough!"
"Which means 'no', really, doesn't it?"
Lovino rolls his eyes and tugs on the lead. His dog whines because he's busy sniffing their new acquaintance's legs. The cat paws at Antonio's shoulder, telling him it's time to go.
He doesn't listen. "I'm Antonio," he says instead, holding his pet in one arm and holding out the other for Lovino to shake his hand. He glances at it and then raises an eyebrow, finally, begrudgingly, shaking back.
"Lovino."
The dog sniffs Antonio's hand when he sets it back, and the cat curls away. Antonio pats the dog's ears. "What breed is he?"
"Inbred," replies Lovino, because it could be true for all the brain cells he's got.
Antonio smiles and shakes his head in disagreement. "I think he seems very bright."
The dog barks at him, wagging his tail.