Kismet: the force behind fate, or destiny.

Red: Honestly I have no real concrete plot for this story, scenarios are kind of lined up in my head and I just write them. this took me about an hour of writing and it just kind of fleshed itself out as I typed. It is unedited, but please enjoy. I write this stuff to male myself and all of you happy. I hope it brightens your day, if only a little.

Disclaimer: I once again DO own Undertale, and you should too. I even beat the tile puzzle and am currently at Asgore with no deaths this run. massive personal accomplishment for me. Toby Fox owns all the legal stuff though.

Dogs need to be walked. That was the whole point of getting a leash in the first place, right? That was something you'd have to fit into your schedule now.

At least that's what you'd thought at first. Your new hairy companion seemed to think otherwise though. It had been easy to get him in the house and cleaned up. He'd let you put the soft red collar on him with no fuss and he'd eaten the kibble you'd put down so quickly you were sure he'd choke on it. Yet when you tried to get the leash to bring him outside in the morning he'd bolted from the living room quick as lightning and you'd not been able to find him since.

The house you lived in was modest, a small home you'd decorated in neutral creams and browns with just enough space for you and your cat Itty-bit. (by enough space, it meant you had your bedroom and Itty-bit had a guest room she could call her own.) you'd furnished your living room with a comfortable leather couch and recliner in front of a simple TV entertainment set up. The kitchen was your real pride and joy, having been expanded by demolishing the wall separating it from the dining room and making a wonderfully modern shrine to the culinary arts. You'd never seen the point to having a designated dining room in your home since it was just you living there, and you'd rather eat at the kitchen island anyway. Cooking was the fun part, eating the results was just the satisfying cherry on top that proved the endeavor worthwhile.

There weren't many places to hide in, both bedroom doors were closed and the only furniture big enough to hide a dog had already been checked. Itty-bit lay stretched out on the couch not bothered by your searching in the least. A thumping at the door derailed your poking around behind the bathroom door and you shuffled quickly to check on it. The neighborhood was a pretty good one, but sometimes the kids from down the street would come by and play juvenile pranks.

Poking your head out you checked around for the noise only to be faced with the smug doggy grin of your new pet and the morning paper. You felt your face slacken a bit in confusion as you had no dog door. Your front door had been dead bolted until you'd opened it just now, and you knew for a fact that your back door and windows were all secured shut as well. There should be no way for him to be outside, and yet there he was.

A quick 'woof' and trotted circle snapped you back to attention just as the pup decided it was clearly time for some real exercise. He bolted off down the drive way before you could even think about attaching the leash in your hand. A quickly uttered curse was out your mouth before you slammed the door closed behind you and took off after the white streak bounding down the sidewalk.

You'd just decided to take the thing in and already it was trying to escape. Didn't it want to live with you? All of the weird occurrences pointed towards some cosmic influence telling you to pay attention to this dog and the moment you do it decides to somehow run away and taunt you about it. Your sides ached and your breathing was already short two blocks from your house. The tiny yips coming from ahead kept you on your path and somehow you never lost sight of your escapee despite your slowing pace. Just when you felt like you'd have to give up and keel over to pass out and/or die, the dog finally stopped, turning to run into a yard and rolling into the grass in front of a rather delighted looking ten year old child.

You gasped in air hungrily before approaching the runaway, leash somehow still gripped in your hand. The … Boy? Girl? It was hard to tell really, with the brown bob cut and rather androgynous features. The child anyway was holding a stick lightly and waving it for the dog to follow. They looked up at you with a toothy smile and gestured to the dog and then to you. At first you were confused. You had a moment where you were sure that this was the dogs real owner and the universe was just pranking you some how. The thought left you feeling strangely let down. The kid pointed to you and then snapped their fingers twice. After a confused moment you suddenly recognized the gestures their hands were making. Sign-language, very basic signs at least, posing a question.

Your dog?

You nodded, unsure if the child was deaf and could hear your response or not. You quickly caught the distracted mutt and clipped the leash to it's collar before it could run again. You raised your hand flat to your chin and dipped it out, in the easy motion for Thank you.

Their eyes lit up at the gesture dropping the stick to use both hands to reply quickly in what could easily be defined as babbling.

You sign? Most people I know are just learning. I just moved here with my mom last week. I like your dog. What's his name?

You smiled at the enthusiasm. Letting out a soft chuckle you made sure the leash was secure around your wrist before replying.

I learned growing up. Welcome to the neighborhood. You paused, glancing to the dog who was now laying in the grass with the stick held in its jaws. You still hadn't named him, calling him beast in your head as a last ditch resistance against being a dog-owner. A name flashed through your head quickly and for some reason the idea of calling him by anything else seemed suddenly wrong. You lifted your hands back up and continued to sign.

His name is Toby.

The child nodded with a serious expression as if agreeing that was a very fine name for a dog to have. My name is Frisk. Would you like to come inside and meet my mom?

You glanced down at your self, recognizing that after your impromptu morning sprint, you might not be in the best state to be making a good first impression. Besides, didn't this kid have any sense of self preservation? You hadn't even told them your name and already they were opening their home to you. You decided to rectify at least part of that problem by giving your name as was only polite before continuing.

Maybe later. I need to bring Toby home first and I'm sure if you just moved you're still getting settled. If you want, I can come back later on today to visit... so long as your mom says it's okay?

Frisk nodded eagerly and bolted inside before poking their head back out and giving two thumbs up. You returned the gesture, charmed and a bit surprised that you were genuinely enjoying having this conversation with a ten year old, more than you enjoyed most conversations with people your own age these days.

The little brunette pointed finger guns at you and gave a wink before skittering back inside and closing the door. Cheeky little tyke was a flirt weren't they? You grinned and tugged on the leash lightly, pleased that Toby actually got up and started trotting back towards home with out any further prompting.

You'd get in a quick shower and then figure out a good house warming gift for your new found neighbors. If they were still unpacking they probably didn't have many groceries or time to put together a solid dinner, and you fully believed there was no better way to bond then over some good food. Excited to get to cooking as you always were, you added a little spring to your step to hasten your way home, a suddenly much more behaved Toby wagging happily by your side.

He probably had planned the whole thing, the sly dog.

Red: Itty-Bit is a real cat for those wondering. She's one of my cats and she likes to try and lay on the keyboard while I type this up. You are all very lucky I give you this cat, she's an absolute sweetheart that cuddles and purrs and basically does nothing else but share kitty love. Cherish this cat! (I understand the irony of praising my cat to what is probably a reading audience of dog-lovers given the nature of this fic. Gonna do it anyway.)

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