Chapter Text
The road is empty, stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s especially quiet tonight, nothing but the engine’s purr and Diana’s soft measured breaths disturbs Strahm’s peace on the way home. His wife naps in the backseat, exausted after the concert. It takes him enormous effort to keep his eyes off her — serene and gorgeous, still wearing her favorite red velvet evening gown, even more perfect than the day he heared her singing at that bar and fell head over heels. It has become their shared routine a long time ago — him picking her up after the show to drive her home, back to the safety of their bedroom. Peter has a special place in his heart for such moments of sheer tranquility, when the rumble of the nightlife and the lights of the city are left behind as the stars look down on him gently, reminding him that he’s still alive.
Suddenly something pulls him out of his meditative state abruptly — a dark silhouette rushes across the highway, freezing for a moment blinded by the headlights seconds away from being smashed in by the wheels. Strahm spins the steering wheel frantically, slamming the brakes, as the squeal of the machine becomes one with the horrified howl of the animal. He jumps out of the car and throws himself into the night, searching for the creature who was about to become another piece of roadkill just a moment ago. At first he can’t make out anything but a pair of eyes staring back at him with a mix of dare and primordial fear, but as his vision adapts a bit, the rest of the animal materializes out of the shadows. In front of him there’s a dog — if one would be generous enough to describe this scowling creature battered by life as such. It looks equally terrified and terrifying, teeth bared, saliva dripping down its maw, dark fur matted and filthy. The dog is clearly wounded, limping as the it slowly retreats into the night, front leg bended and hanging unnaturally above the ground.
— Shhhh, — Peter hushes. — I won’t bite, let’s keep it mutual.
Surely he should’ve got back into the car and hit the road right after making sure that the dog was unharmed. Instead he finds himself standing in the middle of nowhere, reaching for it, his stare locked with a pair of glowing eyes. There is something inexplicably familiar on the bottom of these dilated pupils, envoking a strange sense of kinship in Strahm’s soul. They stay perfectly still for a bit — a man and a dog, frozen, trying to predict each other’s next move. At last the latter one hesitantly approaches, now standing at arm’s length from Peter, cautious yet interested.
— Right, come here. Good boy — or are you a good girl?
Frankly, he has no idea what he’s doing, as he swiftly reaches and grabs the dog by the scruff. His target is not fast enough to avoid that but its instincts are as sharp as its fangs, as it turns out. Strahm yelps, feeling the teeth of the animal sink into his palm, almost biting through the bone. Instead of withdrawing the hand he throws himself on the ground, pining the dog down, fingers closing around its muzzle, gripping hard to prevent another attack. The air gets filled with ferocious growling and barking and panting as the animal struggles to break free from Peter’s stong hold. The tussle lasts for a couple excruciating minutes before dying down as the mutt finally surrenders, too exhausted to fight for any longer.
— It’s okay, we’re going home. That’s right — you have a home now. — Strahm mutters, as he drags it to the car.
Him and Diana have discussed getting a dog one day in case their futile attempts to have a baby never lead to anything. Maybe it’s the right time now, he thinks, as the roar of the engine blends with the roar of the beast trapped inside of the trunk. His wife is still asleep on the backseat, seemingly undistubed by all the commotion that has just took place.
- - -
Diana once again proves herself to be a woman of tremendous patience — if all the years of marriage with Peter weren’t evident enough of that, of course. She doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest when her husband introduces their new nightmare inducing family member — Rex, his name is Rex now — to her. She doesn’t complain much aside from a couple fairly reasonable arguments like “oh sweetheart, you should’ve asked me beforehand” and “oh sweetheart, maybe it would be more rational to adopt a puppy from the local shelter”. But as Strahm takes Rex to the veterinary clinic the very next day, Diana is right by his side.
After washing off all the dirt and mud covering the mutt’s dark brown fur, the vet examines his injuries meticulously.
— Poor thing, — he utters, removing the crusts of pus and dried blood covering Rex’s wounded leg as his patient tries to wriggle off his new owner’s steady grip. — Must’ve got stuck in one of those horrid steel traps hunters have been leaving all around the area lately. This big boy must’ve chewed off pretty much his whole paw in order to free himself, that’s just tragic.
— My God, — Diana gasps, — Would he be okay? Can it be mended?
— Well, we will have to amputate the rest of his leg unfortunately — that’s mostly dead tissue anyways, but he will surely do just fine with the remaining three. Don’t worry, miss — this one is fairly resilient alright. Aside from that he got off easy — a couple of old scars here and there plus some signs of malnourishment and dehydration, but in general that’s a pretty healthy one.
Hearing the pair sigh in relief at the same time, the vet adds awkwardly:
— To be frank, his physical condition is not the thing you two should be worried about.
— What do you mean? — Strahm furrows his brow in confusion.
— See, sir. That’s a wild animal. If it bit you once, it’s going to bite you again. My advice is — you should either let it go or put it down. You won’t be able to domesticate it regardless, trust me. You’re only going to hurt yourself.
Diana stares at him in horror at the mention of euthanasia. Both Peter and Rex scowl at once, looking like two weirdly similar animals ready to fight back.
— Look, doc. Do your fucking job and let us decide for ourselves, how about that?
— The choice is yours, surely. — he rolls his eyes, clearly fed up with confrontations like this. — Good luck with that though.
They drive home in silence. Diana seems discouraged and anxious but Peter doesn’t let it get in the way of his new challenge. Him and Rex are going to be friends eventually — he knows that for sure somehow. They’re way too alike after all. On the way back he stops by the local pet store, investing in a muzzle, a collar, a leash and all things necessary.
- - -
Domesticating Rex turned out to be an expectedly hard task. He didn’t bite any more times, thank goodness, but it didn’t make him less rowdy and distrustful. «Must’ve been how Diana felt when we have just started dating» — Strahm chuckled every time when his new pet avoided him like plague, ignoring his desperate attempts to make contact. Rex was spending days on end hiding in the corner of their living room, seemingly feeling the most comfortable between all the boxes they haven’t sorted through ever since they moved into their new apartment. Sometimes Strahm would bump into him crawling out to the kitchen to steal some food only to retreat to his hiding place right after. Going for a walk with him turned out to be a whole different kind of torture — every time another dog would be unfortunate enough to get in their way, Rex would start to tug on his leash like a madman, alerting everyone around about his not so friendly intentions through a series of furious barks. One time he even managed to escape, running after a squirrel, but for some reason returned back to Strahm anyways.
Yes, being a dog parent turned out to be a rather difficult experience, sometimes even making Peter question if he was cut out to be a parent in general. Still, the progress was made. Slowly — much slower than the couple would hope for, but nonetheless. Sometimes the mutt would show a glimpse of affection in his own canine way, seemingly especially fong of Diana — another trait he clearly shared with Peter. As for Strahm himself, he was willing to settle for Rex occasionally acknowledging his existence with a couple of enthusiastic barks. That was the exact level of communication he was content with most of humans — why make an exception for his four — three — legged friend?
A couple months later something changes in their dynamic. It happens as Peter heads to bed after a long day, allowing himself to relax in Diana’s loving arms. She pulls him into the sheets with a playful giggle, nuzzling into his neck and covering it with tender kisses. Nights like this always make him feel ten years younger, bringing out much softer and more romantic side of him, making him blush like a boy at Diana’s charm and beauty. She takes off her silky nightgown gracefully, looking like a marble statue as the moonlight accentuates her curves. Looking at her in awe, Peter once again asks himself, what has he done to deserve someone as perfect as his life partner. Seems like in spite of all his numerous misadventures he was still a lucky man after all.
He kisses her with all the tenderness that he has in him, feeling her open like a flower in his hands. Again and again, slowly and delicately, as her long fingers play with his hair the way he would never allow anyone else to do. She gets on top of him, placing her knee gently yet assertively between his legs, her warm body pressing him comfortably into the mattress. Peter gasps at the touch, melting in her embrace, feeling like he never desired anything more in his lifetime.
And then something disturbs their idylly — the mattress creeks under a weight of a fairly heavy creature as someone dark and fuzzy hops on their bed and lands next to them. Waddling his tail, Rex jumps at Diana and starts licking her face.
— Seems like you have to share, Peter! — her laughter fills the room, chiming like silver bells. — Everyone wants a piece of me tonight!
Strahm can’t help but crack up at the sight as well. He moves closer, hugging the two, as Rex calms down and snuggles cozily between them. He stays with them for the whole night, at some point kicking his legs and flopping around comically in his sleep — he must’ve been chasing after something or someone in his dream. Peter allows himself to indulge in a little harmless fantasy, imagining their dauther playing with Rex one day. He always wanted to have a dog as a kid — hopefully she will enjoy growing up with this chaotic furball as much as he himself would have.
- - -
And then something changes drastically, undoing all the process they have made all at once, demolishing all the trust Strahm was carefully building in a blink of an eye. As he returns home after the shift that night, Rex greets him eagerly in the hallway. His friendly presence that used to feel so foreign at first has become something comfortably familiar now, almost making him take it for granted. Almost. Diana is already asleep, but Rex awaits his owner impatiently, waddling his tail round and round like a helicopter blade at his sight. As Peter kneels down to ruffle the fur on Rex’s forehead, he leaps at him like a puppy. The mutt licks his face and hands sloppily, his tongue of sandpaper almost dripping with every lick, covering him in slobber in seconds.
“Stop, stop, enough kisses!” — Strahm chuckles, trying his hardest not to bust out laughing from all the tickling.
However, Rex doesn’t stop. Something shifts in his shiny dark eyes, as if a switch is flipped — turning him from a well loved pet into a feral and hostile creature. Before Strahm gets a chance to free himself, Rex’s affectionate licking turns into biting. He twitches at the sharp pain as the dog’s jaws close around his hand, fangs sinking deep into the flesh.
“I said stop! Rex, down!”
He disobeys, letting go of the owner’s palm only to bite again and again, covering his forearm with deep bloody bitemarks. Peter only now understands how strong and massive his pet is — muscles rolling under his dark fur like well oiled cogs in a roaring mechanism of destruction. The nature itself spent years and years shaping animals of his species into the most effective and ruthless killing machines for the sake of their own survival. And now here he was — maybe not the most outstanding specimen of his kind, yet the one who was beaten down and bruised enough to learn what it takes to stay alive.
As Rex drags him to the floor, filling the hallway with deafeningly loud barks, there is nothing adorable or domestic about him. He pins Strahm down, ignoring his frenzied attempts to push him away, and their stares lock again — the same way they did when they first met that fateful night. Rex’s eyes are tar black, devoid of any sanity or recognition, something primal glistening on the bottom of his wide pupils. He is horrifying — furious and ready to maim, hot drool bubbling and dripping down on Peter’s face out of his scowled mouth.
Strahm feels his own survival instincts kick in, mirroring the beast in front of him involuntarily. He manages to land a puch on his pet — the thing that he mistook foolishly for his pet, throwing him across the corridor. But before he gets a chance to stand up, the dog lashes onto him and kicks him back down with a loud thump. He bites and bites and bites, drenching Peter’s white shirt in blood, tearing it apart the same way he intends to tear the man himself apart right after. His gaping mouth is inches away from Peter’s neck, breathing out hot fetid fumes into his face as his teeth threaten to close around his throat.
And then the switch flips again, this time in reality. The lights turn on, blinding both of them like car lamps would’ve blinded two animals on the highway before they both would be crushed mercilessly by the wheels. Diana must’ve been awoken by the fuss.
Peter’s stomach sinks as sheer terror fills his mind. Not for his own life, of course not, but for the safety of his loved one who was now endangered by his recklessness and stupidity. Operating on muscle memory only, he pulls out the gun and fires.
A sharp harrowing shriek pierces his eardrums, leaving the dog’s combusting lungs. Rex wheezes and scratches helplessly against the floorboard as the life leaves his shivering body through the gaping bullet hole in his chest. He writhes convulsively and the final agony takes its hold, sending a wave of pained spasms down his spine. Labored breaths become more shallow, as the animal gives up fighting for his life, gasping for air a few more times before surrendering. Rex is now but a pile of meat curled up on the ground. Motioneless. Dead.
As Diana rushes into the room, wide eyed and panic-stricken, she finds her husband on the floor — covered in blood, glaring vacatly into the void, absentmindedly caressing the cooling corpse’s fur.
— Sweetheart, what happened? Peter? Peter!!
He doesn’t hear her as she cries out to him desperately, Rex’s last howl ringing deafeningly in his ears, drowning every other sound and every other thought.
— ….a wild animal. — he echoes, voice just as lifeless as the bloodied body in his arms. — If it bit you once, it’s… going to bite you again. Either let it go or put it down. You won’t be able to domesticate it… You’re only going to hurt yourself.