Work Text:
"We’re getting one,” Multimouse said, putting her foot down on the Eiffel Tower’s girders. “That’s final.”
Viperion’s brows rose. “Melody,” he said, holding his gloved hands up. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Pooka,” Multimouse said, poking him in the chest. “Growing up in the bakery, I could never get a puppy. But now that we’re married and have our own apartment, it’s time.”
Viperion tried not to frown. He really did. But puppies were balls of disaster. They had wet tongues and they chewed on things and they shed everywhere. Despite growing up with a mother like Anarka--or maybe because of it--Luka never liked embracing chaos. He liked keeping things neat and tidy.
And a puppy was just the wrench in his gears he didn’t need.
But this was Marinette, his wife, and she wanted a puppy. He’d just have to deal.
“Luka,” Marinette said, “puppies are forever.”
“Yes, dear.”
***
In the end, Luka had been right about the dog. It chewed the bedposts to death. It scratched the door. It peed everywhere.
The puppy was an agent of chaos.
An adorable agent of chaos. And this puppy was theirs. Taking care of the dog together had strengthened the bond between him and Marinette more than he ever could have imagined.
As Marinette slept at his side, cuddled up on the couch with the tiny beagle they called Sir Ruffington the Third, Luka was at peace. He stroked the wriggly, little animal from head to tail, luxuriating in its short fur. Luka scratched behind its ears and chuckled when it rolled over for belly pats.
Marinette had also been right about the dog, though Luka would never admit it.
Puppies are forever.