Chapter Text
Bojack stood in front of the door, and embarrassment grew in him when he realized he was in the same stupid predicament he was in a couple of nights ago. Although this time, he couldn’t give himself the luxury of avoiding his very real problem that had manifested into an overly nice man-child. He couldn’t think of much that was as ego-bruising and humiliating as having to apologize to said man-child; unfortunately, this was the only trajectory for Bojack to get some semblance of his peace back. He still needed to move out and find a job, but at least he wouldn’t have Mr. Peanutbutter’s miserable face playing in his head 24/7.
On his way to the house, he had rehearsed multiple times what he wanted to say to the dog. Every possible reaction Mr. Peanutbutter could have, he played out in his head like a bad re-imagining of one of Shakespeare's tragedies. The reactions were mostly negative because Bojack was a pessimist at heart, and it was impossible to come up with a positive reaction, much less a good ending.
He muttered his script one more time to shake the last remaining nerves off. He went to push in his key to open the door, but before he could, the door opened, and he was met with the yellow lab’s surprised face.
“Bojack?”
Bojack took a step back. Suddenly, his nerves attacked his body all over again. The urge to turn around and leave without saying a word overcame him, but he fought it off. He was not about to waste his chance; he wanted his peace back, and it was now or never.
“Hi…” Is all he could muster before Mr. Peanutbutter flash-banged with the kindest smile that has ever been directed specifically to him.
“I thought I heard you outside.” Bojack’s face grew hot from embarrassment; he hoped his annoyingly perceptive dog ears didn’t listen too intently to what he was mumbling. Luckily, his ramblings sounded mostly like nonsense.
“Umm.. yeah…” Bojack looked around for anything that would change the topic. He glanced down at the dog and pointed at his clothes. “You’re going for a run?” Bojack asked, genuinely curious as to why the dog wasn’t in his usual athleisure at this time of day.
His sunglasses were replaced with a black baseball cap. He wore a ratty gray tank top and blue sports shorts that exposed a good chunk of his thighs. Mr. Peanutbutter told him once that he liked how it showed off his legs after Bojack gave him shit for the length. ‘If you got it, flaunt it’ he said to him that day, and flaunt it he did.
“Oh yeah!” He looked down at his outfit as if he wasn’t the one who put it on. “You wanna come? We can just walk. I’m not sure how good running is for your back.”
“Sure…”
He followed the dog towards the sidewalk, he was lagging behind a couple of steps, because he was too busy compartmentalizing how that last bit made him feel. That was for the void and the void only.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, the tension growing every second, but neither of them said anything. Bojack’s shoulders were rigid and tense as he staggered slightly behind but still to the right of Mr. Peanutbutter. He could only watch the cars reflect the remaining rays of sunlight behind the two as they drove passed the Hollywood suburbs. He felt a much-needed cooling breeze hit his back. This was his favorite time of day. The sun couldn’t mock his very existence anymore and the anxiety of having to go to face his insomnia hadn’t set in yet. He used to lounge around in one of his pool chairs and take in how muted reds and deep purples engulfed the city below him. He felt like a king then, even though deep down he knew he didn’t deserve it. Now that view was gone, and all he had to look at was Mr. Peanutbutter with the same color palette hitting his fur, and he felt…
“How was your day?” Mr. Peanutbutter spoke up first, which made Bojack snap out of his thoughts.
“Umm…” He took a sec to rewire his brain to the present. “It was… okay.” He faltered.
Mr. Peanutbutter looked at him with soft eyes and a wistful smile. “That’s good, Bo.”
Maybe it was the stray rays of sunlight playing in his milk-honey eyes, or the way his golden fur flowed with the breeze, or the goddamn nickname, but something tightened around his heart. This butt-sniffing idiot did so much for an ingrate like him, and Bojack repaid him by avoiding and lying to him. He should be dead in a ditch.
Bojack cleared his throat. “Although it could have been better.” He shrugged to fake nonchalance.
“Really?” His head cocked to the side, and his ears perked forward a tiny bit; he wasn’t expecting Bojack to want to elaborate.
Bojack looked away, feeling under pressure to elaborate. “Yeah, a day under a relentless heat wave while handing out resumes is subpar at best.” He sighed as he remembered all the calls he hadn’t gotten back. “At this rate, I don’t think I’ll ever find a job.”
“Bojack, you don’t have to go back to work if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine, it gets me out of the house. I can’t spend all day waiting for you to come back, like some bored housewife.”
Mr. Peanutbutter’s typical upbeat stride slowed down as his shoulders hunched, and he wore a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Right.” Mr. Peanutbutter said.
Silence fell between the pair as the mood turned awkward, which was not the mood Bojack wanted for what was supposed to be his apology. Bojack might be a master at killing the mood, so to speak, but he also knew how to raise it again. After all, he used to be a comedian at some point in his life.
“I know you might want to be, but you can’t be my sugar daddy forever, PB.” Not his best, but the keyword here is ‘used’, regardless, it seemed to have shifted the mood. Mr. Peanutbutter’s ears shot up as he started to laugh.
“What?!” He giggled some more as he playfully pushed Bojack away. He sputtered out defenses that never seemed to land anywhere. Bojack couldn’t help but laugh as well when Mr. Peanutbutter covered the bottom half of his face due to embarrassment from his failed defenses. Bojack smirked to himself. It was oddly endearing.
“I’m probably the worst sugar baby in history. I’ve never fulfilled my end of the bargain.” Bojack's eyes widened as he realized the implication of what he had said. Mr. Peanutbutter had stopped laughing to share his same surprised expression. Was that too much? It felt too much. Why did his face feel so goddamn hot?
Bojack’s nerves settled when Mr. Peanutbutter’s laughter picked up again. The noise was soothing to his ears, like a balm that reached that part of his brain that demeaned him every waking hour.
“Jeez, Bojack, I didn’t know you felt that way.” Mr. Peanutbutter playfully elbowed his side. Bojack rolled his eyes, but his bashful smile wouldn’t let up. Maybe the joke might have gotten away from him.
“Alright. Alright, it’s not that funny.” He looked away from the dog and turned his attention back to the cars zooming past the pair. Anything to distract himself.
“I know of a way you could make it up to me, though.” Bojack snapped his full attention back to the dog. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he was expecting, maybe something that would match the implication. Instead, it was just his regular old closed-mouth smile, nothing out of the regular.
“What?” He questioned with his eyebrows slightly raised. Where was Mr. Peanutbutter going with this?
“Yeah, we could do movie night on Saturday.”
“Oh… right.” He let out air through his nose to release the odd tension that had built up in him. “Yeah, I could do that.” This was his redemption, served up on a silver platter by Mr. Peanutbutter himself. The Labrador gave him an easy out; he didn’t have to slog through an awkward apology. Just as he had thought, he was home free. Mr. Peanutbutter gave him a toothy smile, and Bojack didn’t hate it. He still needed to apologize.
“Mr. Peanutbutter, about dinner the other day…”
“Oh. It’s fine, Bojack.”
“No, it wasn’t fine. I made a scene at your restaurant, and it was stupid of me.” His ears pinned back, he forced himself to look at Mr. Peanutbutter even though every cell in his body told him to run into the oncoming traffic next to them. “The thought of being back in those types of environments made me want to hurl.” His shoulders dropped, and his jaw slacked; it felt like he was peeling back his skin with a razor to show all the embarrassing facets of himself. “It’s bad for me. It brings me back the person I don’t want to be anymore.” He paused as he tried to remember his mental script, but it had seemed to vanish into thin air as soon as he was in the eye of the hurricane.
“I guess… I’m a real numbskull, huh?”
“No, you’re not. It was… nice that you thought of me.” Bojack offered him a long-overdue smile; it was small and barely visible, but it was still there.
“I’ll always think of you, Bojack.” Maybe to his detriment at times, Bojack thought. “I wanted to spend time with you. I missed you during the day since you started all these night-shift jobs.” Mr. Peanutbutter was always so frank when he wanted to be.
“I’ll probably start working during the day now.”
“Really?!” Mr. Peanutbutter stopped them dead in their tracks as he grabbed Bojack by the shoulders a little too tightly.
Bojack was a little confused at the excitement, but he continued. “Yeah, I’m getting too old for that type of schedule anyway.”
“That’s awesome, Bojack!” He released Bojack’s shoulders before he could start jumping up and down, since he remembered he was a grown man in public. Bojack rubbed at one of his shoulders; he forgot how strong Mr. Peanutbutter was.
“Sorry.” He muttered.
“It’s fine.” Bojack couldn’t shake the confused expression on his face. Was his presence that important to the Labrador? That just didn’t make sense. Maybe he was dumber than he thought. After all the demeaning comments and shitty behavior Bojack has exhibited against the dog. After all that and more, Mr. Peanutbutter still found space in his life for Bojack. What was wrong with him? With both of them? Bojack couldn’t even utter the words ‘I’m sorry’. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why Mr. Peanutbutter showered him with such attention. He didn’t deserve it, but maybe he could make it up to him.
“I… I could call you at the after party… If you want.”
That’s good enough, right? He doubts anything he said or did could be enough. Not for Mr. Peanutbutter, mind you, Bojack could do the bare minimum, and he would still be the happiest dog on planet earth. No, he meant for himself, it would never be good enough for Bojack, but it’s what he can offer right now.
“I would love that!”
Yep, the happiest dog in the world.