Chapter Text
Kojo sat in the open kitchen space like a furry household gargoyle, planted so solidly that even a mild earthquake wouldn't have moved him. His ears twitched with every horrible screech and hiss of the new coffee machine, the loud one, the enemy that hurt his delicate dog's hearing. When it let out a particularly sharp sputter, Kojo whimpered and clacked his teeth in protest, but his eyes never left Tim, because apparently this new morning ritual was serious business.
Capital S, capital B. Serious.
His small stub thumped once, because any more movement would suggest playfulness, and Kojo refused to be playful while the Noisy Brown Water Machine made sounds that had pulled him from his dream of chasing a ginormous steak through the back yard, that even now made the saliva drip from his mouth and coat a tiny spot of the floorboards between his paws.
I almost had that steak, but then GRRRHHHMMMMPFFFT KRRR-CHK-CHK-CHK CLING-CLANG-CLUNK SPRRRT-SPRRRT-SPRRRTTT, followed by a beep like that thing was proud of itself spluttering out hot liquid, causing me to wake up.
Tim, meanwhile, acted like he didn't even hear the machine's agonized shrieks.
Humans, Kojo had learned, were oblivious to danger in the household. Instead of protecting it from the Screaming Brown Water Beast, Tim calmly prepared two mugs: one plain black for himself, and a taller one with a lid and bright sunflowers that, if Kojo were being honest, looked extremely sniffable and possibly pee-on-able, but then Kojo is distracted by Tim pouring creamer into the flowery mug before the icky brown liquid followed and he scrunched up his nose at the sharp, fake-sweet smell drifting through the air.
It tickled his brain in the wrong way, like someone trying to pet him against the fur, and how they can drink this is beyond me.
To be honest, Kojo was still miffed that the full-sized coffee monster had appeared a few days ago, rolled in by Lucy like some kind of shiny, chrome home-wrecker. What was worse was that it hadn't come alone.
No, it came with boxes. Many boxes. Boxes that cluttered the entire house for days, blocking Kojo's preferred nap paths, sniffing stations, and emergency zoomie lanes.
As revenge, Kojo had stolen several of the socks Lucy unpacked and left carelessly on display for him. Socks that practically begged to be liberated. It was a crime of justice, really, that they had been kept in boxes, because who in their right mind leaves some chewable socks in boxes?
Tim hasn't noticed them gone yet, which is good. I'm sure Lucy won't miss them.
Kojo had hidden the loot in his secret stash behind the washing machine in the garage, the sacred treasure vault Tim never checked.
Socks went in, peace of mind came out.
Even with all the chaos, all the furniture rearranging, all the "Kojo, drop that," and "Kojo, those are Lucy's good socks," he couldn't deny one truth: He was glad the sunflower-cup human was finally around again.
His favorite human.
The bringer of treats. The cuddler of heads. The giver of butt scratches.
He hated the Screaming Coffee Monster Lucy brought into his home, and he would continue to glare at it until it respected his authority. But her? Kojo would happily forgive any home-destroying chrome beast if it meant she stayed, and maybe this time she will because as his Aunty Angela had said while they unpacked boxes and she oversaw everything, "You two have basically magnetized crotches, and I always knew they would snap back together eventually."
So yes, his humans were back together, whatever that meant, and the divorce-era custody schedule in Kojo's head could be abolished.
No more deciding which human he loved slightly more on alternating weekends, because balance had returned to the universe, and Kojo could once again nap without the emotional whiplash of Tim moping around the house like a sad, abandoned golden retriever in cargo pants. There would be no more pre-sunrise coercion, where Tim clapped his hands and grumped, "Come on, buddy, let's run," as if any sane creature should be sprinting when the sky still looked like wet concrete.
Because now Tim spent his mornings in bed next to Lucy, and Kojo was thrilled about this for many reasons, mainly because it meant he didn't have to run anymore, but also because it kept Tim quiet and still for once.
Well… quiet-ish.
When Lucy stayed over, the two always went to bed early but didn't sleep until late in the night, making noises Kojo didn't fully understand but strongly disagreed with.
The thumping always started first and was way too energetic for two humans who spent all day whining about being 'exhausted'. Really? You're tired? Then why are you wrestling squirrels in bed at night?
As if that wasn't enough, high-pitched and repetitive squeaking noises followed, usually from Lucy. Kojo was almost positive that something in the house was being murdered. Probably one of the good squeaky toys that Tim always puts in the box with the lid. Humans had no respect for the sanctity of my squeakies and the access I need.
Usually, after that, there was a break, a loud panting like they were too hot, but it didn't stop them at all, because soon after, a steady thud-thud-thud against the wall would follow, one that made Kojo's ears twitch and his brain go into full investigation mode. He wasn't sure if his humans were trying to dig through the drywall, but he surely would appreciate the easier access to sneak into bed at night to cuddle Lucy.
I just wonder why they giggle so much?
Humans usually laugh when they are happy, but who laughed while being aggressively wall-thudded? It made no sense, especially when it died down, and the gasping started, soft at first, then louder, then dramatically louder.
Usually followed by the inevitable shout of "Tim!" which came in a tone Kojo categorized as "human distress but also… maybe joy?" and Kojo would lie on the floor with his paws over his ears thinking,
If I made noises like that, Tim would absolutely take me to the vet.
But despite the mysterious nighttime racket, Kojo preferred this version of life. The evenings might sound like ghost wrestling or competitive wall-thumping, but the mornings were perfect because they were filled with cuddles where Kojo got to wedge himself between two humans. He would bury his nose in the sheets, inhaling deeply because they smelled like Lucy and Tim together, and Kojo hadn't realized how much he missed that mix until it came back.
The smell that lingered, coupled with their pheromones, was even intoxicating to Kojo, because Tim's scent had been sad for months, a smell Kojo associated with rainy days and abandoned chew toys.
There had been only one day when Kojo had that smell linger, and it was when Lucy had rung the bell after midnight. Kojo remembered it perfectly because he was dreaming about chasing a hamburger, and then he heard the door, and suddenly the house was bursting with excited, tangled, loud human pheromones, followed by noises all night long.
Noises that suggested they were either fighting cats or aggressively rearranging furniture while shouting each other's names.
And then they left the next morning, disappearing for hours, only to return smelling even happier. Despite being tired, Kojo had heard more noises, actually even louder noises, so dramatic and chaotic that Kojo was absolutely convinced they were chasing geese through the bedroom.
I have chased geese before, and the high, he mentally sighed.
But now Tim and Lucy smelled bright and warm, always, like happiness and pack security and whatever humans felt when they finally stopped being idiots.
Kojo noticed Tim sighed softly at the creamed mug, all gooey and lovesick, and Kojo mentally rolled his dog eyes so hard his brain almost did a somersault.
The man was hopeless.
Totally, deliriously, belly-rub-needing hopeless.
BANG. THUD. RUMBLE.
Ah, Lucy is awake.
A boot skidded across the hallway as Lucy hopped on one foot while a door bounced off the wall after being pushed too hard, and something clattered loudly, causing Kojo to pray to every dog ancestor it wasn't food, because losing food would be a tragedy of unspeakable proportions. Then Lucy appeared in the living room, utterly frazzled, her hair half wet, one boot on, one boot missing, hopping in wild circles as she muttered.
Kojo adored her chaos with all of his whole-dog soul. Lucy caused the destruction that he personally strived to create daily. She knocked things over, misplaced objects, tripped on her own belongings, and somehow managed to create a tornado in any room she entered.
The only issue was that she never got punished for it, not once.
Not a single "Bad girl," or "Lucy, no," or even a stern look.
Meanwhile, Kojo knocked over one trash can, and Tim acted like he had chewed up his running shoes again, which I have only done only once because I didn't want to run anymore before the sun was up.
It was unfair, unacceptable, and downright discriminatory.
Well, except that one time when Kojo had almost lunged at Tim because he had put a naked Lucy over his lap after they had licked their face, and he had his big, scary man-hand come down on her butt. Kojo thought she was being punished, but when Lucy had whined, Kojo was ready to protect, because no one hurt his favorite human.
Kojo was growling, with hackles up, staring down Tim, who froze, but instead of being grateful for the rescue attempt, Lucy had yelled, "Kojo, stop!" in a tone that made him sit down so fast his hips popped. Then the two of them disappeared into the bedroom, and the spanking continued, but Lucy didn't sound distressed.
Not even a little.
Kojo still didn't understand that day, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Humans were weird, sometimes, often illogical, and impossible to supervise correctly.
"Where are my keys???"
Lucy growled as she frantically looked for them. Tim didn't even look up at her antics; he simply twisted the lid onto her travel mug, watching her from the corner of his eye with amusement.
"Good morning to you too," he said as he finally turned around, sounding far too happy for someone witnessing a category-five Lucy-storm.
Lucy spun in frantic circles around the living room, half hopping, half stumbling, trying to zip up her boot while her hair whipped around like she had stuck her head out of a moving car. She was so laser-focused on her missing keys that she didn't even seem aware she was wearing only one shoe, with the other foot bare, tapping impatiently against the hardwood, as if the keys might respond to Morse code.
Kojo's head tilted as Lucy checked the side table near the door that she had brought, now residing underneath the hook where her keys were supposed to be, but right now, there was only Kojo's leash and Tim's set. Letting out a huff, she even checked the decorative bowl that Kojo may have marked the other day before they put it up.
Yes, I've peed on that after Lucy had unpacked it, but it smelled weird, and now it's mine. Deal with it.
The keys weren't there, and what Lucy failed to realize was that, in fact, they were lying on the floor by the couch.
How did the keys end up there? Well…
After Lucy came home last night, she attempted to toss her jacket on the hook, but instead hit the wall, then the thermostat, then a picture frame, then a plant, and lastly Tim's dignity as he finally took it from her to neatly put it up in its place. Kojo had watched, excited, to greet her, and his patience had paid off when Lucy dropped to her knees to give him a round of butt scratchies, kisses, and cuddles, while Tim complained that he didn't get any attention.
He's the pack leader and you don't bother the pack leader, and really, I've seen him every day for the past months, but Lucy hardly ever has been here.
Kojo let out a huff as Tim finally decided to put Lucy out of her misery, and he strolled out of the kitchen, part of the open floor plan, before he moved over to the couch. He bent down to pick up the keys and didn't say a word as he lifted them with a soft jingle that made Lucy freeze in a mid–panic pirouette.
"Looking for these?"
Lucy's eyes widened as she nodded frantically, and she gasped like she had just witnessed a full-blown miracle materialize in front of her. Her entire face lit up with desperate hope as she launched herself toward him in a sprint that suggested this was a life-or-death situation, but instead of handing the keys to her, Tim immediately lifted them higher, well out of her reach. Lucy skidded to a stop, hopping up on her toes, arms stretched, fingers grabbing at nothing but air. Tim looked entirely too pleased with himself, and he chuckled as her face fell, Kojo tilting his head, watching the scene unfold.
Classic human trick. Height abuse. Happens all the time.
"Tim," Lucy groaned, stretching even farther despite being very obviously not tall enough to reach the keys. She hopped once and still missed them by several inches. "I don't have time for this! I'm going to be late for my first day back on the day shift!"
Tim lowered the keys just a fraction, enough to look like he might help, but not enough to actually do it. Lucy pursed her lips, and Kojo let out a growl, but the two humans ignored him.
"Babe," he murmured, "take a breather."
Lucy snapped her gaze at him, and she put one hand on her hip, glaring at him as she reached out and jabbed her finger into his chest accusingly. "A breather?" she repeated, incredulous. "You're the one who taught me that being an hour early is still late!"
Tim opened his mouth as if he had a defense ready, then slowly closed it again. There was really no point in arguing. That was, undeniably, something he had told her. Many times. Loudly. As a Rookie. His face was blank, and Lucy's frustration only amplified. She jabbed him again, harder this time, as if each poke could physically deliver her irritation straight into his sternum.
"And," she continued sharply, "you're also the one who let me sleep in! You literally kissed my forehead and said, 'five more minutes,' and then you fell asleep too!"
"You were tired," he said softly. "We both were. We needed the extra sleep."
Kojo glanced between them, his head tilting as he tried to make sense of their confusion. They were both complaining about being tired, yet Kojo remembered quite clearly that they had been awake nearly all night, creating an impressive assortment of human noises. He still suspected they had been chasing geese, based on the bangs, thumps, and enthusiastic shouting.
"Well, I don't have time for extra sleep now," Lucy said as she ran her hand down Tim's arm and attempted to yank it downward. "Give me my keys."
Tim kept his arm stiff, effortlessly resisting her tug, and Lucy let out a frustrated whine. Tim tried, and failed, to hide his laugh, and he lifted his other hand, the one holding her travel mug, and tilted his head at her.
"I made you coffee," he said, annoyingly charming as his brow arched, "and maybe a kiss will help me lower my arm?"
Lucy looked at him, her irritation melting instantly into something soft and tender. Her eyes glazed over with warmth as she stepped closer, sliding her hands up to his neck. She tugged him downward, and when their lips met, the kiss was anything but fleeting. It lingered for far longer than appropriate, and Tim pulls away only to dive back in, and the kiss shifted from "morning kiss" to "we should cancel our plans" very, very quickly.
Tim's arm finally dropped, the keys jingling as his hand slid around Lucy's hips. He pulled her closer, kissing her harder, pressing into her with a need that made Kojo's ears flatten. He let out a sharp yip, but the humans ignored him.
Wasn't she late? Didn't she just scream about being late? And more importantly, Tim wouldn't make breakfast until she left.
This was unacceptable, and Kojo barked, a firm reminder of the priorities his humans should have. That caused Lucy and Tim to break apart, Lucy giggling at him before she looked down at Kojo.
"Someone's jealous," she teased, and Kojo stared directly into her soul.
I'm not jealous. You need to go. The sooner you leave, the sooner Tim feeds me.
Humans were so slow to understand basic needs, and Kojo got up to walk towards them, nudging Lucy impatiently as Tim chuckled and gave Lucy's hip a squeeze, not really paying attention to the very hungry, very displeased dog.
"Maybe, you can be a little late," he punctuated the suggestion by rolling his hips against hers, which made Lucy squeak and swat him away.
"Stop it!" she scolded, though she was smiling far too brightly for someone allegedly in a rush. She snatched the mug and keys out of his hands and looked him over fondly. "I don't want to upset the new captain on his first day."
Tim leaned forward with a grin that was absolutely going to get them both written up someday.
"I think the new watch commander will put in a good word for you," he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. Lucy met him halfway, giving him one more soft, but ridiculously tempting kiss. For a moment, she melted right back into him, and when his tongue brushed her lips, her brain rebooted, and she pressed her hand firmly against his chest.
"Not fair," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "You're off today, and you can't put in a good word for me. So stop seducing me."
Tim huffed a laugh and brushed his thumb along her hip. "Captain Grey is happy to have you back. He'll overlook you being late."
Lucy barked out a disbelieving scoff, and she rolled her eyes so hard Kojo thought they might fall out. She shook her head because she knew precisely how untrue that statement was. If anything, she had months of groveling ahead of her along with Tim. Grey had taken the job specifically so Tim could move up to watch commander, which in turn made space for Lucy to return to the day shift as sergeant.
Plus, Grey didn't yet know that Lucy was about to submit paperwork to officially change her address, forcing her and Tim to finally tell him they were not only a couple but living together.
"Alright, alright. You should go." Tim sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Lucy bit her lip, and she rose to her tiptoes and leaned in to give him one more lingering kiss. Then she finally turned, grabbed her mug and keys, and made her way toward the door, which caused Kojo to immediately circle Tim, bumping the back of his legs to get his attention.
Go, human. Make me food. Do it now.
He barked and danced around Tim like a furry traffic cone, directing him toward the kitchen, but Tim grabbed Kojo gently by the collar and looked down at him, arching a brow. Kojo froze like a statue, then slowly plopped his butt onto the floor in defeat while Tim snorted and ruffled his head.
"Good boy," he said, before glancing up toward Lucy. "Your second boot is in the guest bathroom!"
"Thank you!" Lucy hollered, already halfway down the hall. She darted into the bathroom, grabbed the shoe, shoved her foot into it, and then sprinted back for her bag before slipping out the front door. The moment it clicked shut, Kojo wagged his stubby tail and licked his snout with high expectations.
"It's just us today, buddy. How about some breakfast?"
Kojo yipped eagerly. Finally, the human understands.
"And then," Tim added casually, "we'll go on a run."
Kojo's ears dropped instantly, and his head lowered in horror. He let himself fall onto the ground like a dog who had had absolutely had enough of life's injustices. No more running, he thought bitterly, watching as Tim walked into the kitchen to get the fresh salmon and an egg. Kojo narrowed his eyes, annoyed yet hopeful.
Breakfast first.
Then maybe, just maybe, he could fake a leg injury.
TBC