The Pet and the Pest
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Thunder rolled the sky and the cadence of the rain on the windows turned the riverside apartment into a sanctuary of soft sound. It was a pajamas-all-day kind of day. John and Dorian were lounging atop the perfectly made bed, entwined. John was reading his cell-o and Dorian was reading internally, occasionally humming gently to the tune of 20th Century pop songs.
John shifted his body every three or four minutes, unable to find a comfortable reading position. He propped himself up against Dorian in a new way each time, giving little regard to the android.
In his latest move, John ended up with his head on Dorian's thigh and his legs swung over the side of the bed.
Dorian hadn't moved in an hour and was feeling a little dizzy watching John twist and turn.
Dorian was just about to tell him to find a place and land in it when John sat bolt upright, casting the cell-o to the side. "Holy shit!" he said, standing on the bed.
Dorian looked startled. "What is wrong?" he asked.
"I just saw the biggest fucking rat I've ever seen in my whole goddamned life," John shouted, looking around the floor before jumping down and grabbing his gun off the dresser.
Dorian stood up carefully and looked around. "In the house?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.
John held his gun out like he was ready for anything.
"Maybe not with the gun, John, " Dorian suggested.
John arched an eyebrow and held a finger to his lips. "Shhh," he whispered, "I think it ran into the bathroom." He warily inched toward the open door.
Dorian said, "Really, the gun, though. John."
John went into the bathroom and Dorian heard the ear-popping jolt of a gunshot as the sound ricocheted in the little room, then a loud crack echoed as the porcelain toilet burst apart. Water sprayed everywhere and a bunny rabbit came hopping out of the bathroom and darted down the hall.
Dorian sighed in relief when he saw the little critter, glad it wasn't a rat. He wondered how the cute thing had escaped its hutch hidden carefully in the back room.
John was soaking wet, attempting to turn off the water on the broken toilet. Dorian gave him a helping hand, giving the shut-off valve a twist and stopping the spray. "Did I get it?" John asked, out of breath.
"You're gonna get it if you don't stop firing your gun in crazy places," Dorian muttered.
John waved him off, standing in a puddle of water.
"It is a bunny, John," Dorian said. "Not a rat. And no, you didn't get it."
"A rabbit?" John asked, scratching his head while still holding his gun.
Dorian sighed. "It was supposed to be a gift for Easter. It must have gotten out of its cage."
"Wait, wait. Why'd you think I'd want a-" he stammered, waving his arms about in frustration. "Nevermind. Nevermind. I guess this is all your fault then." He gestured to the broken toilet bowl and the general mess of the bathroom.
Dorian rolled his eyes.
"I will catch the bunny while you get changed," he said. "We have to go to the hardware store and get this fixed."
John nodded, twisting the water out of his shirt and then walked on squishing feet to the bedroom, muttering, "So much for pajamas all day."
When they were back from the store, both spent the rainy afternoon crouched in the bathroom, installing new fixtures. When it was all over, they only had to decide what to do with the bunny.
After much negotiation, a few unthinkable suggestions from John, and noisy compromise, Houdini was allowed to stay for the weekend. And only the weekend - then he would be given a new home in a classroom at the elementary school near the precinct.
That night, as they watched their favorite show, John lay on his stomach on the floor, petting Houdini and feeding him veggies. Dorian had a sneaking suspicion that the bunny was here to stay.