A/N: This is my NaruMitsu Week 2021 fic. A little late, but oh well! Get ready for Pess' aggressive wingpuppy antics.
Let me know what you think!
musings (whilst on walkies)
Day 1: Chains/Locks
Pess loves this couch. The couch is one of his favourite places in the entire world. It's comfortable, the fuzzy seats wonderful to rub up against, the armrests perfect to scratch his back on; and, whenever Miles is done his work, it fits the two of them with more than enough room to spare, giving him all the legroom in the world while still letting him lay his head atop of Miles' lap, the man's hands finding purchase in his fur and under his chin. It's a wonderful place.
At least, it normally is. Nowadays, Pess can't remember the last time he cuddled with Miles on that couch.
His owner has been far busier as of late; every time he comes home, he is exhausted, barely cracking a smile even when Pess runs up to him. His barking hellos are only met with a quiet smile. His pants and begs for attention are met with a gentle hand that seems far too distracted to ever scratch the way Pess wanted.
Pess understands why. At least, he thinks he understands why- he doesn't get the details, but Miles keeps mentioning something about locks and chains and magic, and there's no way to ask him what he means. The front door lock still works, after all! Pess' collar and leash for their early weekend morning walks are made of cloth and leather, not metal. He doesn't know what Miles is so worried about.
It's… kind of scary.
Pess doesn't like this distracted Miles. Although he likes being able to climb onto Miles' bed- usually the man scolds him, telling him to go sleep in his own bed (but his own bed doesn't smell like Miles, so wh would Pess like it more?) even when Pess asks to cuddle- he doesn't like seeing the worry in Miles' face. He wants Miles to smile.
As it is, Miles' irritation and quiet grumbling and muttering makes Pess want to hide under the kitchen table. There aren't any scraps down there- the maid is really good at cleaning up, and it makes Pess sad- but the sides of the table surrounding him reminds him of his life before Miles. Cold walls, tiled floors, a dark box for him to sit in- it's scary yet similar, and Miles' angry whispers sound like the humans who would feed him back then.
He likes Miles' house more. He remembers when Miles had found him- he had smelled sweet and nice, and his face had been so, so sad. He had muttered a lot back then, too. But when Pess had nuzzled his leg, he had smiled, and Pess had promised to take care of him forever! When Miles smiles, this little space under the table isn't even needed, because the entire house feels warm and comfy and perfect.
Pess buries his head into the side of the cushions and the armrest. The muttering isn't because of Pess, at least.
Is it because of him?
The man who has come to the house every week for the past month is strange. He smells like something sharp that makes Pess sneeze, but his hands are big and warm, and he always gives the best scratches. Miles always gets frustrated when Pess lays on his lap when he's in his bright red outfit, but the blue person with dark hair always laughs, smile wide and arms ready to hug and throw Pess' favourite ball.
Pess quite likes him. Miles always says his name is right. Pess doesn't get it- how can a name be wrong?- but the man always makes yummy food for Miles and feeds Pess too, so he doesn't ask any questions about the name issue.
The couch dips, and every fiber of his being lights up elatedly. However, Miles' expression is brooding even as he sits next to Pess, fingers massaging his temples wearily without even sparing a glance towards his best friend. Whining in irritation, Pess rolls over, showing his stomach to the man. The same absent hands that have been greeting him as of late come to rest on his stomach, but they don't scratch or move at all. Huffing, Pess noses Miles' arm, then freezes.
Miles always clutches his arm and grimaces when the other man is around. He always looks like he's in pain, and no matter how much Pess sniffs and bumps and licks his elbow, the crease in Miles' forehead never seems to disappear whenever the dark-haired man is around.
Maybe I should chase him away the next time he comes here? he wonders, mind immediately playing out that scenario. Just as quickly, Pess shuts it down. He can't bark at that man! He's the best at fetch! He loves going for runs in the park with Pess so Miles can read on the bench! He gives such good tummy scratches!
And, most important of all, although Miles' arm always seems to hurt whenever the other man speaks, whenever the dark-haired man turns away, the smile Miles directs towards his back is beautiful. If he can make Miles smile like that, then that's good enough for Pess.
That guy would probably like Miles' smile, too. It's weird that Miles never shows him that smile- the way his entire expression softens, looking happier than Pess has ever seen, brows furrowed and eyes shining in warmth. Pess knows that expression- it's love, isn't it?
He knows what it is. Pess loves Miles very much, so he's an expert.
Still, he wishes he knew what the heck the whispering about locks and chains were all about. His ears perk up every once in a while as the man continues to mumble, absently rubbing Pess' stomach and paws. Something about locked hearts? It's all just a jumble of words and irritated groans.
Stealthily, he leans upwards and licks Miles' nose, then rests his head on Miles' collar. The man almost jumps in surprise, but then, his expression softens. Not in the same way as with the dark-haired man, but that's okay- this is Miles' love for Pess, and that's perfect for him, he thinks.
Later that evening, the muttering is back, now accompanied by something about 'Psycho-locks'. Is that a new type of door? Pess doesn't know- he quite likes the one they have now. In all honesty, he kind of loves the lock, the sound of shifting pins and the secondary chain clinking as it is removed. His ears are so trained to hear the sound of that door opening; it tells him that the person he loves most in the world is finally home.