Becker threw down the keys onto the hall table in frustration, sighing indignantly before he gazed around the open planned lounge-dinner, scanning for the only other inhabitant of his home. He failed to see her creep up, slipping out of the shadows like a ghost, the pads of her paws silent against the carpet of the bedroom, before she trotted across the kitchen tiles. With a smile, he heard the familiar clicking of her claws against the flooring as she made her way over to him, ears erect, head cocked curiously, and blue eyes as inquisitive as ever.
He greeted her with a tender hand upon the dome of her head, his fingers threading through the thick, downy crown of mane-like hair as her rough tongue licked the fingers of his other hand, sensing her master's agitation.
"Hey Morley," he greeted affectionately, even though his voice was deeply laced with melancholy, as his fingers gently stroked the side of her muzzle comfortingly. The German Sheppard-wolf cross merely whimpered in reply, rubbing her pate on the outside of his thigh, "Dinner?"
He didn't much fancy the hard, spherical pieces that tumbled from the dog food bag into Morley's bowl, sounding like hailstones thrown mercilessly against a window pane, but she seemed to enjoy them anyhow. Why she even ate them, he didn't know.
Leaving her to her fine cuisine, he slumped onto the sofa, wondering if it was even worth putting the TV on. Probably not- there was all this rubbish on nowadays, so much so Becker had almost given up on the damn thing. He than began to wonder if he should even pay his TV licence this year; only to be bombarded with garbage like Trisha, and brainwashed by the adverts that threatened to either burn a whole in your wallet, or bring on an onslaught of epilepsy you never knew you were capable of. The original London 2012 Olympics logo was a shining example of something which caused an influx of epilepsy sufferers.
Morley broke his reverie as she hauled herself up onto the sofa beside him, dropping heavily onto her belly, her head in his lap. Though still not quite a fully grown bitch, she wasn't really a puppy anymore, and the sofa sagged with her new found weight.
Stroking her ears, he settled back into the soft recesses of the couch, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
"Am I being stupid?"
He was surprised to hear himself speaking aloud, he'd meant to keep that to himself.
Raising her head at his words, her subtle eyebrows raised in that typical surprised look some dogs had, and she gazed at him meaningfully, as though she were merely saying, "And you've only just realised this?"
"Shut up," he muttered. He often spoke to her; she was like his substitute family- a baby he could dote on because he'd long since given up on the idea of a wife and children. Though, at the moment, she was going through "that teenage attitude" phase, where she dared to question him and become disobedient. Last week, the pristine, white linen sheets, covered in muddy paw prints was the straw that broke the camel's back. He'd told her no, and she'd given him that look, the one which says, "Should I? Shouldn't I? What the hell, yes!" before she rolled in the neatly stacked, washed linen.
He'd given up at that point. She was, after all, only partly tamed. It was an odd way in which he'd acquired Morley; the wife of a friend he'd met whilst training had been raising a wolf cub in the small confines of her house, something to do with her being a zoo keeper, and after reintroducing it to the pack, she'd found out her German Sheppard was carrying pups. They'd contacted Becker, wondering if he was interested in taking one off their hands.
He'd initially agreed to just look at the pups, unsure as to whether it was a good idea or not. She'd been the fluffiest, the one with big, adorable eyes that pierced his heart, the one with a snowy, downy pelt, the one who fitted perfectly into the palm of his hand. Becker still hadn't quite figured out how he'd fallen in love with her within the space of a few seconds, but he'd said he'd take her off his friend's hands without a second thought.
So there she sat, scorning him for not doing the right thing, for not picking Jess like he'd picked her. Sighing, he ruffled the fur at her neck, "What should I do?"
He was met with a small growl as she placed her head back on her forepaws.
"Besides me being a jerk, are you going to offer anymore advice, or should I just quit while I'm ahead?"
An indignant snort. He took it to mean no more help from her.
Dogs.
Women.
Unbelievable.
X
Her eyes, incredibly, beautifully wide, stared up into his with genuine shock, and the first few sounds that escaped those unknowingly lascivious lips of hers were mangled. Faltering momentarily, the blush rising up underneath the supple skin of her cheeks, she struggled to find the right thing to say, whilst oh so flustered!
His lone finger trailed the high arch of her cheek bone, causing her eyes to only widen further, and her breathing to cease all together. He desperately wanted to kiss her, kiss her like she deserved to be kissed. He wanted to protect her from harm, because he owed her that, not simply because it was his job. He wanted something similar to normality, he wanted to shower her in affection and take her on picnics... and hug her and smell her, take her to restaurants and lie under the black canvas of sky, pinpricked with stars, and most of all, he wanted to love her.
Becker awoke the moment his lips brushed against Jess's, and the feeling of reality lifted. He wanted to drift back off, lose himself in the soft, warm embrace of her arms that were always open to him- free of shame of breaking social conventions- in his subconscious. Yet he had already opened his eyes, and as he shifted to his side, and attempted to shut them tight, he found it was too late. The dream was gone, and so had his hope of sleep.
Traipsing from the bedroom, he yawned, running a hand over his face and then through his hair as he headed to the kettle. He needed coffee, decaff admittedly, but he needed one. He needed a think, a rearrangement of his priorities and what really meant what to him.
As he made his drink, he spied Morley, curled nose to tail in the typical sleeping position adopted by foxes and wolves, in her basket, and thought about it. He'd been reluctant to have a dog before, but after seeing her, after holding her tiny, heavy, sweaty little frame in the palm of his hand, he knew he loved her, and he'd thrown all his previous beliefs away.
A dog wasn't so bad, in fact, so far, it had been one of the best decisions he'd made in his life (excluding joining the SAS and the ARC). She eased the constant loneliness he'd once felt, coming back to this empty flat. She'd been something to love to pieces and distract him whilst Abby, Connor and Danny were missing, when Sarah died... he had really needed her then, because that had felt like all his fault, and if it hadn't been for her reassuring licks, and being able to clutch something living to his body, he might have broken down... gone insane.
It begged the question, what if he allowed Jess into his life? Sure there was the chance of losing her, of her losing him, but with the new rules and regulations implemented in the ARC, wasn't she the one with one of the safest jobs? If he let her close... then maybe he could be happy, to the extent where he'd look back on this precise moment and wonder how on earth he'd considered himself content, as he hadn't had her then?
Becker sat at his kitchen table, staring into the darkness as if it would somehow miraculously reveal the answer to him. Letting his mind lose, allowing it free range and to think of the instinctual thing to do, he felt like he was on the verge of an emotional breakthrough.
He would take it slow, he would allow her to make the decisions, the moves- he'd merely give her the incentives and subtle suggestions. No, he wasn't going to hide behind the facade of social conventions, he was going to screw it, let it all go to pot.
He fucking loved the woman.
Wow, how about that for an epiphany, he thought, dumbstruck.
A/N: Not quite sure what possessed me to create Morley, I felt Becker needed a feminine (if somewhat canine) influence, and just a female in his life, as I think he probably wouldn't be too close to his mother. So, hence Morley popped into my head. I usually use Silas, the fat, anti-social, albino cat once owned by Nick, who managed to manifest himself in several of my fics as Nick's, then Claudia's, then Jenny's cat. Though, for obvious reasons (Silas is male, and Becker doesn't strike me as a cat person), he wasn't quite used.
Anyway, reviews would be nice? Thanks for reading!
GPR