Work Text:
In Los Angeles it wasn’t necessarily weird to see a guy in a floor length teal skirt and shining gold fanny pack sipping on a large frappuccino, but the fact he was walking in excess of ten dogs definitely punted him into ‘unusual’ territory.
It was a dreary grey day, and he sashayed down the street like a ray of technicolour sunshine, bringing dogs and bustling movement, and Kravitz wondered if he looked very different from an angel, assuming they existed.
Kravitz had just got off work. Though he would never admit it, he was roasting in his all-black ‘uniform’, and almost envied the freedom of a floaty skirt, skimming ethereal along the sidewalk with the dogs flanking him like a pack of familiars. There was something unreal about this guy, and Kravitz wondered if the eighteen hour shift had taken its toll, making him fuzz around the edges and seem a little brighter than the rest of the grey street. He walked like a supermodel, graceful even in heels, all long willowy limbs and a skirt that clung to his calves, every bit of him elegantly poised.
From the bus stop Kravitz watched how the dogs seemed to beam up at the guy as they bustled along the sidewalk. They dodged obstructions with an easy fluidity, and he moved unerringly within the pack, never having to glance down to ensure he didn't step on them, one hand on his frapp while the other held his phone, texting with his thumb. It was a strange kind of magic, Kravitz thought, that the guy didn’t stumble. It took something special to be able to multitask like that, and look so graceful while doing it; the brim of his extremely wide hat bouncing with each step, only affording Kravitz snapshots of his face, with high cheekbones and an elegant jaw, long hair tucked behind his ears as he kept his eyes fixed on his phone.
Kravitz wondered, briefly, how much this guy was earning per hour to walk all those dogs, assuming he was a professional. It certainly looked like a professional endeavour. All the dogs seemed happy and he appeared to have a handle on them, able to stop them lunging at a new dog tied up outside a shop front.
With a glance across the street, the guy paused in front of the new dog. He leaned down to pet it as the other fuzzy bodies and wagging tails shrouded it from view, and Kravitz found himself smiling as it was sniffed by the entourage of a dozen or so new friends, all very excited to meet it.
When the guy moved off, the dog was gone.
Kravitz blinked once, then twice, and glanced after the man as he glided away, just as fluid and natural as before, shades pulled down over his eyes and the brim of his hat obscuring his face. Had he… had he really just seen that? Had he imagined it?
Maybe it was a pickup? The guy had arranged with the owner to… leave the dog leashed up outside Whole Foods. No. No, that didn’t seem right, of course not, but... He’d just witnessed dog theft. Was that even a thing?
Kravitz looked to the Whole Foods, then back to the guy, then to the Whole Foods again. Then he scowled and hurried after the dog thief.
“Excuse me,” he called, lifting a hand as he crossed the road, a thin line growing steadily between his brows. “Excuse me, sir.”
The thief kept walking, tapping away on his phone, and Kravitz might have been imagining it but it seemed like his pace picked up a notch.
“Excuse me, if you could just- EXCUSE ME.”
It was very difficult to pick his way through the buffer of dogs, who all beamed up at him and snuffled at his pockets and hands, but as soon as he got close enough he could definitely see the new dog milling within them. It was a matted clump of creamy brown fur amongst a sea of others, mouth open and panting gleefully. It almost looked like it was grinning.
The dog-walking supermodel turned off down a side street, taking another sip of his drink, and Kravitz lunged forwards, setting a hand on his arm and planting his feet.
“Excuse me, sir,” Kravitz said, voice low and firm.
“Ow, watch it thug, that shit’s gonna bruise.”
The thief turned, leashes wrapping around his thighs, and raised a delicately arched eyebrow that had definitely been threaded and dyed some time within the last few weeks. His glasses rested on the bridge of his nose below heavy-lidded eyes, and he pushed the brim of his hat up to look nonchalantly at Kravitz. He seemed incredibly unbothered.
“I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you,” Kravitz said, letting go of his arm and leaning on his words very carefully.
“Uh, yeah, the dogs? No shit, I don’t own fourteen dogs, who the fuck do I look like? I’m walking them, dumbshit, it’s kinda my job?” His voice went up at the end of each discretely packaged clause, and he looked vastly inconvenienced.
No way was this happening. Kravitz was slightly taken aback, blinking once, twice, and glancing down to the dog that was definitely a recent addition, wriggling round and sniffing and tugging on the leash as the rest waited patiently.
“I saw you take that dog,” Kravitz said, pointing to the dirty one who stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the well-groomed entourage, looking up at him with adoring eyes and a small pink tongue lolling out. “If you don’t return it I’m going to have to report it. I’m sure it has an owner already, you can’t just take things that don’t belong-”
“Relax, stud, I’m with the police.” Rolling his eyes, the guy reached into his pocket and flashed a… business card? He was pouting on the picture, and it stated his name as Taako Taaco, in bright pink font, though it was scooped away too fast for Kravitz to get a good look.
“Actually, /I’m/ with the police.” Kravitz reached into his jacket and pulled out a lanyard.
He’d never seen the colour drain from someone’s face so quickly.
“Oh shoot,” the guy - /Taako/ - said, voice warbling softly, eyes widening as he peered up from under the brim of his hat. There was a soft tapping sound, and Kravitz realised he was still texting with one thumb, his phone down by his hip. “These heels aren’t made for running.”
Kravitz raised an eyebrow and slotted his card back inside his jacket.
“Please don’t chase me. I’m too pretty to run, and I didn’t set my foundation,” Taako said, sighing.
“I can’t chase you if you don’t run,” Kravitz said, glancing down at the stolen dog.
The moment hung, and Kravitz was half expecting Taako to throw the frappuccino at him and sprint. But he just stood there, glancing at his dogs and back up to Kravitz, teeth worrying at his rosy lower lip, coated in a lacquer Kravitz was sure cost more than was reasonable.
“OK, so, listen. I can totally explain all this away,” Taako said, speaking with his hands even though one was full of frapp and the other waved his phone around. “You’re not getting the big picture here.”
“Do go on.”
“...Didn’t think I’d get this far.” Taako stalled, biting his lip again. Kravitz noted with a weird lurch of his stomach that he had a charming gap between his front teeth. “OK. So. I work with… a guy. Who rehomes dogs like this. But he can’t legally repossess them.”
“So you /illegally/ repossess them?”
“Well, sure, it sounds shitty if you put it like that.” Taako rolled his eyes, bringing his phone up and opening an album, flicking through the pictures and holding one right up in Kravitz’s face.
It was the dog, sitting in a dirty backyard by an empty water bowl, looking terribly sad.
Kravitz frowned. “So call the pound.”
“He IS the pound, doofus, it takes months to go to court and get a warrant. And the dog might be dead by then. You want that? Want a dead fucking dog on your hands? Just watch, buster, I’ll sneak in Godfather-style and leave this little guy in your fucking bed.” Taako gestured down to the dog, almost pouting.
Kravitz looked at the dog again, and the other dogs, too.
“Are they stolen too?”
“No. Mostly. Some of them.” Taako pointed at one, tall and skinny and dark haired. “She’s a Sammy, had to shave her because she was all matted to shit. Owner didn’t want to take care of her past feeding her and whoring her all over Instagram.” He looked to his other side and picked up a little one, shoving it right in Kravitz’s face. “This is Fischer. He’s my friend’s. Came from a puppy farm, brought mom with him, he was the only one that survived because they were left in their own shit and-”
Fischer sniffed at Kravitz and licked his nose with an unreasonably tiny pink tongue.
“Aww, see that? He likes you! He’s saying ‘please don’t arrest my dad, shockingly handsome police officer, he’s way too cute to go to jail’.”
Taako was practically batting his eyelids, bringing the puppy back in closer to his chest, and Kravitz considered the rest of the dogs. There was definitely more than one leash twined around his ankles. He was going to eat shit if he turned round too quick.
“HEY!”
They both turned back towards the road. A lady was storming down the side street towards them, waving her arms.
“Oh shit. Now you’ve done did it,” Taako grumbled. Shoving his glasses further up his face, he set Fischer back down and gathered the dogs in, tutting his tongue and unzipping the fanny pack. They all drew closer, looking up at him, tails wagging as he fished out a bone shaped treat.
“HEY, THAT’S MY DOG! THAT’S MY DOG, GIVE HIM BACK.”
“Listen, lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“THAT’S MY FUCKING DOG, YOU IDIOT, GIVE HIM BACK OR I’M GONNA SUE YOUR ASS OFF.”
“Hey, you left him out on the sidewalk in hundred degree weather, surprises me you even noticed he was missing,” Taako said, giving a shitty smirk as he dropped a treat straight into the stolen dog’s waiting mouth.
“Give me my fucking dog or I’m gonna beat your ass, you scrawny fa-”
“Excuse me,” Kravitz cut in, stepping between the two of them and holding a hand up, eyes like thunder. She scowled at him, her car keys clutched in one hand and her Whole Foods bag in the other.
“Yeah? What the fuck do you want?”
“I think you’re going to want to let this go,” Kravitz said, reaching inside his jacket and fishing out his ID. It looked very municipal, very official, and he might have shown off a flash of handcuffs with the same motion.
“What the fuck? That’s my dog, you can’t just threaten me, I have RIGHTS-”
“I’m sure the LAPD would be very interested to know about a dog housed outside with no access to shelter or clean food or water,” Kravitz said, coolly. “In fact, I believe Act 17 of the Animal Protection Act puts the minimum fine for that at around $5,000. Interesting, isn’t it?”
She gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land, looking around him to Taako and back to Kravitz, silently fuming.
“You know what?” she said. “Keep it. Cost $30 from Petsmart I can get another one. Keep the shitty dog, it’s got diabetes anyway.”
She huffed and turned on her heel, and Kravitz felt himself release a sigh he hadn’t realised he was holding. He turned to Taako, trying very carefully not to step on any paws. Taako had the /shittiest/ grin plastered right across his face.
“Oh boy. That’s kinda hot, you know, I, uh, love a man who knows his legislation.”
“Did it sound convincing?” Kravitz asked, cracking half a smile. “I’m not even sure if the Animal Protection Act is a real thing.”
“Kind of a shitty cop, huh?”
Kravitz chuckled. “I’m not actually a cop. I’m a bail bondsman with the Raven-”
“Shut UP, so you couldn’t arrest me?” Taako said, gaping.
“Not unless you have a warrant out?”
“Mmm. Not in California.” Taako winked, dipping his shades just far enough that Kravitz could see it. He was back to being as sparkling and charismatic as he had been before, chuckling and checking his phone again. “Well, sir, thank you so very much for your time. I know Barold here will be looking forward to his new home.”
“Barold?”
“Inside joke. Hey, I never caught your name?”
“Kravitz. You’re… Taako?”
“Yep. Taako Taaco, so good they named me twice.” He took another sip of his drink and winked, checking his phone and sighing as he tapped out another text. “Well, I better let my buddy know I don’t need rescuing. But you should call me sometime, boyo. Let me thank you.” He might have winked again, or it might have been a trick of the light.
“It’s really no trouble.”
“I insist.” Taako fished a card out his pocket, offering it to him.
“...Dog walker and chef? A dog chef?”
“Do you have any dogs that need cooking for? I do people-food too. Make a baller macaroon.”
“No dogs, I'm afraid. I work strange hours.”
“Huh. Good thing I’m freelance.” Taako gave a smouldering grin with half of his mouth and looked Kravitz up and down. “Call me sometime, stud. You got my number.”
“I certainly do. If you need any bail enforcing you, uh, you know where to come.”
He faltered his way through the sentence, white knuckling it to the end, and realised exactly how stupid it sounded once he ground out the last word.
Taako just chuckled, eyes sparkling as he pushed his glasses back over his nose and tossed his hair back over his shoulder. “I sure do. See you later, Kravlova.”
“Oh no.”
Taako sauntered away, smiling, dogs panting around his feet, and Kravitz was left holding a business card that smelled vaguely like wet dog and roses.
His bus roared past behind him, and he swore quietly as he turned and started the trudge back to the bus stop.
[Fin]