Chapter Text
The feeling of paws starts to grasp Chris’s antlers. He starts to breathe heavily, and the feeling gets harder. Tears start to swell in his eyes, and he begins to scrunch his face inwards. He whimpers, then he starts a groan in pain. The antlers are feeling like they're being pulled on. The tears begin to flow down his face, to his torso, to his legs.
The horns snap off, and they start to bleed with rose petals mixed in them. The paws begin to tear him open, then they begin to grab his bones. His ribs are ripped out one by one. He begins to yell and scream. Roots, thorns, stems, everything was pulled out. The pain won't stop; it just keeps going.
He can’t seem to breathe anymore; every scream is silenced by the pulling of his airways. He hears familiar voices, voices he would want to hear again. He tries to call out their names, but of course, he can’t say a single thing.
“Maugh…Da…”
He is drowning in roses; every few seconds, he coughs violently. He drowns further, further, he is consumed, one last cough escaping his mouth.
He wakes up in a cold sweat, holding his neck and chest. The neckline of the green dress he is wearing is falling off his chest. He uses his fingers to wipe away the tears in his eye ducts. He sighs, his shoulders no longer tense. He picks up the sunglasses that fell off his head onto the ground as he sprang up. He quickly looks back at Pawbert, hoping he didn’t wake up.
He was purring and snoring, gently licking his paw. The sight calms him down slightly. He wanted to reach out, and a thought he would never have thought in a million years, grazed his mind. He’s kind of cute when he’s… Shut up, Rudolph. He turns his head away, covering his mouth to hide the blush. He throws himself onto the beanbag again, using his arm to cover his eyes.
His other arm throbs in pain.
He begins to cry again.
〰〰〰
Pawbert wakes up to a familiar sight, and one he’d like to avert his eyes from. Chris is pacing around the room, without his dress on, only in pure black cloth boxers. Pawbert respectfully looks away. Chris pays no mind, staring at he papers in his hand.
“Morning…” He rubs his eyes and yawns.
“Good morning, Berty.” The nickname puts off Pawbert at first, but he shrugs it off.
“Two questions: do you ever sleep?”
“Barely.” The two laugh for a beat, then calm down.
“Second, do you ever wear pants?”
“Pants are unnecessary to this conversation, and a restriction to my movement.” Chris didn’t turn his head around to face Pawbert once, still examining the folder he was able to take while making a run for the window they had previously crashed from. Inside it were documents of the weather wall and letters from Milton. Most were just wordy paragraphs claiming their “very close friendship.” Chris scoffed. As he looked through more, he looked up at Pawbert, finally taking in the sight.
The shirt was a little too big on him; it slipped off his shoulder in a way that revealed bruises and scratches across his grey fur. The reindeer winces a bit at the sight, but he looks back down at the ground. Don’t get attached. Chris clears his throat and looks at himself. “We need to get this back to my office, but first, do you have any extra clothes?”
“I mean, I brought a sweater just in case it got cold, but that’s it.” He scratched behind his ear, correcting his shirt. Chris stared back at his dress lying on the floor. He smirked towards Pawbert while grabbing the sunglasses and sliding them back on his face. Pawbert rolls his eyes in amusement.
After he slips the dress on, he notices the back is unzipped, and he doesn't have a mirror. He turns around, and his back faces Pawbert. “Would you do the honors?” The smaller lynx nodded as he could see the muscular frame behind Chris’s fur. He quickly and lazily zips it up, then quickly throws the sweater at him.
The sweater is obviously too small for Chris; it wrapped around his torso tightly. Pawbert chuckled at the image, pulling out his phone.
“Don’t you even dare.” Chris began to chuckle as Pawbert put the phone away at his command. Pawbert slid himself onto the seat. Afterwards, he felt large arms wrap around his chest. He started up the motorcycle, turning the crank and gliding off from his oasis.
The sun beats down on both of them, though not as harshly as in the summer. Pawbert is fine, his white shirt and shorts make it okay for him. Chris was starting to die, sweating behind his fur. He let go of Pawbert for a second to take off his knitted cloth. Pawbert now felt two arms around him again, but something is different; they are bare and unclothed.
He removed the blush from his face by breathing slowly and trying to focus on the dessert itself.
Chris had bags under his eyes from last night, and every time something, even as just grazes his antlers, he flinched. Pawbert’s fur, the hem of the sweater, air, it didn't matter what it was. That, mixed with the unbearable pain in his shoulder, made for probably the worst motorcycle ride in his life, but again, it’s only the second motorcycle ride he's ever taken in his life.
“You okay? You keep whimpering back there.” Usually, Chris would've caught himself doing something like that by now, so the comment caught him by surprise. Though now that Pawbert brought attention to it, it was way more noticeable.
“It’s probably just a cramp; it’ll go away soon.” The reindeer replies, still whimpering. It was clear to Pawbert that it was not just a cramp. The two started to get closer to the weather wall separating Tundra Town and Sahara Square; each nook and cranny in the sand hurt even more than Chris could ever imagine. He’s broken bones, sprained ankles, yet for some reason, this pain feels stronger.
Maybe it was the actual arm mixed with the feeling of paws on his antlers that still loomed over him, but there was a deep feeling in his chest and stomach. Every so often, it would come up now and again. He never knew what this feeling was. He’s felt it a few times in his life. Maybe once in high school, or maybe that one time after a previous case when his mangy lawyer tried to…
He pushed all those thoughts away, those parts he didn’t deem important until now; he didn’t want the same feeling. He knew once he got attached to someone, it wouldn’t end well. His parents, his friends, and the people he’s worked with in the past. He can’t risk any other lives. He can’t deal with the loss again.
“Once they were inside,” Chris looked up. They had made it to his house. He looked back at Pawbert, a hand extended towards his arm. “I’ll bandage you up.”
The feeling came back.
〰〰〰
Pawbert continued to wrap Chris’s left arm before nodding with a small noise. “It’s done, sorry it took a while. Now, please take a shower, you stink.” Pawbert heard a mumble he couldn’t understand, but he got the message. He watched amusingly as Chris jokingly stomped towards the bathroom.
Pawbert looked back at the yellow folder, remembering it in the reindeer’s hoofs. His hoofs seemed so delicate in that dress.
That dress.
The dress and the stolen makeup, his fur tied up in a tiny bun behind his head, leaving a bit at the bottom. The way he walked with such confidence and carried himself around, clinging to Pawbert to his arm. The way he looked like a certified badass, ready to fight in a dress and basically heals. Well, technically, that’s just his hoofs, but still.
Wow…If Chris were a girl, I think he would’ve been the prettiest girl I ever would’ve-
If. If he were a girl. He’s not. So why are you thinking about it in the first place?
He convinced himself to throw away the thought entirely, only picturing what happened years ago. He didn’t want to end up like that again. Not like he ever had a choice until now.
Until now.
When his father was in jail.
And he can do whatever he wants.
He lets out a hearty sigh, realising all the pent-up emotions and thoughts are getting louder. He kept repeating the thought in his head, him being smacked down, scratched, and yelled at, while his siblings did nothing. He knew they couldn’t, but neither could he, the only person who could do something that wasn’t a photographer, a manager of some sort, or an interviewer was…
Not there anymore.
He breathes heavier and heavier, his face still planted towards the folder, which fumbles and shakes in his hands. His eyes grow more and wider with each breath before tears start to run out. He wipes them away aggressively.
Suddenly, he’s caught off guard by the opening of the bathroom door.
“Hey, Pawbert? Hand me my sweats right there on the bed.” Pawbert studders for a second, looking around frantically before stopping.
“That was not a long enough shower, and you know it.” Chris lets out a loud groan while Pawbert smirks, reclining into his chair. Chris stumbles back into the doorway, leaning back. As soon as he’s out of sight,
Pawbert turns red.
It takes a while for him to calm down again, but all that pink blush soon drains, incat all color from his face does, leaving only the grayscale of his fur. The thoughts flood his brain again. You remember what father said to you when he found out. You're not…that, you’re not. You're just confused after last night.
Confused, he hated that word.
After another good ten minutes, Chris steps out again, fully dressed in black sweatpants, and grabs a white shirt lying over by the door, slipping it on casually. He looks over to Pawbert, who has a look on his face, a face of extreme thought. Admittedly, about a lot of things, but mostly about the case at hand.
Examining each letter, he tries to find anything he can recognize, yet his mind draws a blank. He fidgets with his pendant again, and Chris makes a mental note about it. So, he just always does that. Pawbert glances for a second, thankfully giving the reindeer enough time to look away and act like he wasn’t staring. Chris joined Pawbert in staring at the folder; each word he couldn’t understand only made him even more frustrated.
“Jeez, these guys are too old, I can’t understand any word that is written down.”
Chris sighs, cracking his lower back with a loud pop. Pawbert flinches and looks back. He calms down after seeing his rub the spot he just cracked. “I mean…I guess the best we can do right now is give these to the ZPD and hope for the best.”
“Don’t be so enthusiastic.” He cracks a smile,
“It’s just…I don’t really agree with how they do things sometimes.”
“Hey! My friends work there!”
“Friends?”
“Nick and Judy.” Chris’s eyes immediately widened. Quite literally everyone who lives in Zootopia knows who Hopps and Wilde are, though probably not on a first-name basis. If he knows them, they could help us! Finally, cops I agree with and not actively on the run from! Well, I won’t be on the run from them anymore, thank god I moved out of Winterport.
“Pawbert, you may have just saved our asses. Go home, get some rest, and tomorrow we go over this stuff one final time and hope that the ZPD actually believes us.” Pawbert is put off by his eagerness. The only other time he’s seen him like this is when he was high off of (he’d have to guess) five ounces of pure, black, hot coffee, which was pretty freaky in itself.
“And what if they don’t accept us?” Pawbert looks back with genuine concern in his eyes.
“I am absolutely one-hundred percent certain that this will work, trust me.” Pawbert thinks about it for a second, with the way Judy won’t take no for an answer, he starts to actually believe it will work.
“...Okay, yeah, let’s do this!” Pawbert smiles, his whiskers upturned. He picks up his bag and heads for the front door. He looks back at Chris, and the reindeer smiles and waves at him. Pawbert gives a warm grin and waves back before exiting the door.
〰〰〰
Pawbert walks through the manor halls; the lights are dim, making each hallway look narrower. Each window is a glimpse of beautiful color and the night sky. He looks at the final one for a second, and it’s all a multicolored blur. He places a hand on the window seal before looking next to him.
His father’s office is dark. He doesn’t need permission to enter anymore, so he does. The smell of smoke and wine enters his nose. He stares at the desk, lighting a candle with the nearby matches scattered across his desk.
Staring at the papers, he wants to find anything else he can use. He stumbles across a paper written sometime before the whole Gary incident.
Dear Mr. Harreing
Pawbert seems to have gotten out of hand again. I want to send him back to your office. Please assure me that when he comes back, he won’t have any ideals of this little fantasy he has about being-
He immediately stops reading, just staring blankly at the paper. He brings it over the flame, the warm light reflecting from his eyes. After a few seconds, the hurtful letter is reduced to ashes. He holds back the tears, and eventually, nothing comes out.
〰〰〰
“Hey, Dad- sorry, Father? May I tell you something?” His father sat at the desk, signing something off.
“State your business.” The same response he gave every butler and maid that entered his office.
“I…am dating someone.” His father didn’t seem to care. “Um…his name is Orson, he was that hyena I was talking to at honor roll? Well, I guess you weren’t really there, but he’s a year older than me, so a sophomore, and he’s-”
Milton finally looked up to stare at Pawbert. “He?”
Pawbert grew confused, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah? Anyway, he’s super nice, and cute, and funny, and handsome, and-”
“Pawbert. Come closer.”
The lynx moved closer to his father’s desk, now noticing his siblings with a terrified look on their faces as they stared at each other, then back at Pawbert. “Was there a problem?”
Milton had placed his pen next to the papers in front of him, and he just stared blankly at the wooden texture. Suddenly, Pawbert felt a hand grab the collar of his jacket. Knuckles pressed into the side of his cheek, leaving a lingering, hard feeling. It swelled with so much pain, Pawbert couldn’t help but yelp at the hit.
He fell to the floor, staying on his hands and knees before being held up by the fur on his head.
“You are even more of a disgrace than I thought. I sent you for psychiatric help because there is something ‘wrong with you’ and this is how I’m repaid?” He threw him back onto the floor, then he scratched the sensitive spot behind his ear. Pawbert begins to cry, gasping for air in each pause. “Quit your wailing. I'm making sure your psychologist teaches you the correct things this time.”
Pawbert slowly gets off his knees. “Yes, father.”
Pawbert walks out the door, glancing at his siblings, who are now looking away.
That would’ve been the last time Pawbert would’ve ever come into his father’s office.