Finn's injury had been an entirely unexpected event in your lives. It felt like one minute he was the first ever champion, the next he was cut open on an operating table. The ensuing weeks post-surgery were tough on him, having gone from practically only knowing a life of constant travel, to being forced in to being stationary.
He made sure you knew he loved having the extra time with you, but you understood it wasn't the life he had planned. It wasn't one you had planned either. It was strange, that despite being together for almost two years, there was still so many things you realized you had to learn about him, that only came from being together daily. There had been some bumps, some adjustments, but you had worked them out. You both eventually fell in to a routine; you continuing to work, he attending rehab.
The time home allowed you to convince him to do one thing you had wanted to for years though; adopt a dog. He hadn't actually taken a lot of convincing, with him rationalizing that it would also give him something to do and someone to hang out with at home. So after some disagreement, some research, and some sheer luck, you became proud owners a little black lab/pit mix puppy from a nearby shelter.
To no one's surprise, a debate had broken out over what to name the animal. Finn had lobbied for names inspired by different comic books and sci-fi entities. You had only pushed for non-people names, hating the times you had met a dog that could have just as easily been on a kindergarten roster.
Somehow, the dog had ended up named Bespin, for one of the planets in Star Wars. You called him Bezzy for short.
Today you found yourself on the couch in the back living room, underneath a blanket with yours legs curled to your side. The TV was on some rerun on Food Network, which you were only half-invested in. Your legs were nice and extra warm, with the sleeping head of your puppy placed there.
Finn entered the room, having returned from the Performance Center about an hour ago and taken a shower since. His hair was still a little wet, as he had obviously only attempted to towel dry it briefly. Life was easier since he had been given the OK to have the sling off sometimes, meaning he didn't need your constant assistance with things. Though you hadn't exactly minded helping him shower.
"What are ya watchin'?" He questioned, approaching the couch.
"Don't you dare disturb the sleeping baby," you hissed at him, causing him to stop immediately, mere moments from sitting down.
"…are ya serious?"
"Do I look like I'm joking? You can go sit on the other couch, or the chair," you pointed to the other furniture in the room. He just stared at you, and you stared back unwavering.
"You're serious," he stated, realizing you meant what you said.
"You're been replaced," you said, shrugging one shoulder, not looking at all apologetic about the situation.
"Alright…we'll see how ya feel when ya need me ta kill a spider in the shower," he grumbled, turning and plopping down into the chair perpendicular to the couch. "He won't be able ta help ya then."
"I dunno, he's pretty smart, bet I could train him to be a spider killing machine," you mused, grinning brightly over at your pouting boyfriend.
"Whatever," he muttered.
"LOOK AT HIS FACE, FINN," you demanded, gesturing to your still asleep fur-child. "You cannot, with good conscience, disturb something so adorable."
"I'm adorable," he argued, which made you roll your eyes.
"You are," you agreed. "But right now, our child wants time with me. You just have to wait."
Turning back to the TV, you were almost positive you saw Finn stick his tongue out at the dog from the corner of your eye.