Work Text:
ONE
There is a dog on Link's couch.
There is a dog on Link's couch.
Link doesn't have a dog.
"Where did you come from?" he asks it, scowling. He slowly puts his briefcase down on the floor – stray dogs can be vicious, make no sudden movements.
The dog barks and shows its teeth.
Great. RIP Link. Torn to death by a small feral yappy dog.
"Hey!" he says. "Get out!" And he points at his door.
The dog doesn't move. It doesn't even look at his hand.
For pete's sake. Dogs are fine, Link supposes, but that's when they're in their proper place – i.e. not on Link's couch.
"Get out!" he repeats, more forcefully.
The dog cocks its head, whines.
Then it pees on Link's couch.
"Hey!" Link lunges for it and drags it off the couch by its collar – in hindsight, bad move, as it just keeps going like a leaky faucet. "Didn't your mom – dad – parent – other dogs teach you not to do that?"
The peeing bastard just barks again.
"I hate you," he hisses.
The dog shakes itself. The tag on its collar jingles, which reminds Link that most dogs have useful information on these tags. So he looks at it.
Mythical Dog Sanctuary. 31 Winchester Street.
"Huh," he says. "You live next door."
The foul little beast tries to lick his face.
"Absolutely not."
He thinks about picking it up, but he doesn't want to hurt it. So he takes off his tie and knots it around the handy loop on the collar.
"Right, come on then."
Only, apparently you need a dang PhD to walk a dog on a lead, because the beast absolutely refuses to help. It takes Link five minutes to get up his own garden path. And it's only when he stops to take a breath (also to extract the dog from a bush) that he realises he could have just rung Mythical and got them to pick it up.
Oh well, too late now.
Another five minutes of dragging the dog by its ass down the path, and Link is hammering on the door of Mythical Dog Sanctuary est. 2012.
He hears footsteps surprisingly quickly, as though someone's been waiting on the other side of the door.
"... nearly five weeks old, I –" The door swings open to reveal a very tall, very hairy man, probably about Link's age, talking on a cell. He stares at Link – he has a really terrifyingly intense brow – then down to the floor, where the dog is ... vibrating? "Don't worry, actually, he's been returned, thanks for your time. Merle!"
Link jumps at the sudden energy change, then takes a few steps back when the big man drops to his knees. Luckily, he has the presence of mind to keep hold of his end of the tie until the dog – Merle? – is in the big man's arms.
The man straightens up, holding Merle in one arm like a pro. "Thank you for bringing him back, I've been coordinating search parties. He's not had all his shots yet, so he's not supposed to be outside, he must have snuck out. Haven't figured out how, considering he's completely blind. How did you find him?"
"He peed on my couch," Link snaps. He doesn't mean for it to come out so aggressively, but it's been a long day and he wasn't exactly expecting a pee gremlin invasion.
The man blinks. "I'm sorry about that. I'll pay to have it professionally cleaned, of course." Merle makes a weird yipping noise and starts wriggling enthusiastically. "Stop that," the man says. "You can't even see the ground."
The dog, unsurprisingly for a pee gremlin, is undeterred.
Link scowls at it.
"Not a dog person?" The man asks, a slight smirk playing about his face.
"Not really an animal person," Link corrects. "Nature is all well and good, as long it remains where it belongs – outside."
As if they can hear him, the other dogs in the sanctuary all start making the most almighty racket.
"Well, that's my cue," tall man says. "Thanks again for bringing him back, Mr…"
"Neal. Link Neal."
"Mr Neal Link Neal." The man gives him a slightly wicked grin. "I'll be in touch about your couch." Then he closes the door.
"But what's your – never mind," Link sighs, then trudges back up the path. It's definitely a takeout-for-dinner day.
***
According to Google, big beardy man is Rhett McLaughlin, and he's the owner of Mythical. He also has an instagram that's updated almost daily.
Not that Link follows it, you understand. He's just checked it a few times, to get the lay of the land. Gotta know how many feral beasts are next door, after all.
TWO
Link's alarm is incessantly blaring 'Boot Scoot Boogie' at a volume previously unknown to man. He groans loudly and rolls over to slap at the radio. He can have ten more minutes, right? It's only 8:03. Just a little –
Wait.
Eight? Eight oh three?
Oh shit. Link's been snoozing his alarm for a whole hour?
Great. Just great.
He flings himself out of bed andand into the bathroom, combining peeing and brushing his teeth with a ridiculously short shower. Then he forgoes his usual drying routine in favour of scrubbing himself down with a towel. No time for breakfast, and the coffee machine's long-since switched off, so he chokes down some lukewarm caffeine andand legs it to the door.
Engine on, head down – briefcase, he hasn’t got his freaking briefcase.
So he all but rolls back out of the car and into his house, leaving the doors to open to save time. He races back, briefcase in hand, engine on head down foot on the gas go go.
Link's not exactly speeding, but woe betide anyone who gets in his way.
He's lucky enough to get through the first two green lights, but the third catches him out, just like it always –
"Boof!"
"What the crap?" Link screams at the top of his voice, ejecting (metaphorically, at least) out of the car and into orbit. "What the living –"
The asshde in the car behind him leans down on his horn. Link salutes him with one finger, but takes the hint and starts driving again.
In the backseat, Merle wags his tail.
How did he even get here? He's supposed to be blind, for pity's sake! Do blind dogs get guide dogs! He's probably peed in the back of Link's BMW at least twice in the ten minutes from Link's house to the red light, and right now he's gearing up for a nice big …
Link pulls sharply into the office parking lot and parks up. Then he speed dials his boss. "So, I'm here, but I've got kind of a situation."
"Like?" Stevie says and he can hear the raised eyebrow.
"My neighbour runs a dog sanctuary and one of his puppies has broken into my car."
There is a strange zmm sound; when Link looks up, he can see Merle chewing on a seatbelt.
"Hey," he hisses. "Don't –"
"What?"
"Not you, Stevie, I'm talking to the – drop it. Put it down right now."
And, miracle of miracles, Merle does.
"Alright Neal." Stevie says, definitely not laughing. "You came up when it's all sorted. And take pictures for me? I love dogs"
"I – will do?"
If Link didn't know that dogs couldn't smile, he would swear that Merle was smiling at him.
***
"Mythical Dog Sanctuary, Rhett McLaughlin speaking."
"It's Link Neal."
A pause.
"Do you have the right number?" Rhett asks delicately.
"No, I –" he sighs. Of course Rhett doesn't remember him, why would this be easy? "Your neighbour? One of your dogs peed on my couch?"
"Oh. Oh."
"Yep, that one."
"I don't know how or why, but your dog is in my car. With me. At my downtown office."
Rhett groans. "I swear he's a freaking escape artist."
As if he can hear, Merle barks.
"I'm gonna make him into dog food!"
"I don't think he's opposed to that, honestly."
Rhett sighs loudly, so loudly that for a second Link thinks that his speakers are blown. "Alright. I'll get someone in to cover and I'll be there. Text me your address."
Then he hangs up, because who needs pleasantries when you spend all day with mutts?
Before he can forget, Link texts him the office address. Then he growls at Merle, who is completely undeterred, and snaps a picture as fast as he can.
Will this get me a payrise? he sends to Stevie.
To his surprise, there is no immediate response – which is very unlike Stevie.
"Gee, it's almost as if some of us work."
Merle whines.
Link freezes.
"Don't you dare pee in my car, you little – !" He lunges forward and drags Merle out of the car.
Which isn't the best idea because he doesn't have a leash and he can't take his tie off at the beginning of the work day, so he's now stuck in a crouch, holding this impossibly small dog by the collar.
Because Link doesn't see the point of dogs, but that doesn't mean he wants it to get squished in downtown LA.
"Oh my gosh, he's even cuter in person!" Stevie's voice – closely followed by her physical presence – makes Link jump, and fall back onto the side of his car. "What a good boy!"
Merle barks and wags his ... whole butt. Is he … broken?
Stevie offers the back of her hand to Merle; he sniffs at it and then nuzzles it? Then, the next thing Link knows, she's got him in her arms and is still cooing at him.
"I don't think he's a good boy,'' Link interjects. "He peed on my couch."
"Eh, you probably peed on a lot of couches before you were toilet-trained." She scratches Merle between his ears. "And you definitely weren't as cute as this little guy."
"I was plenty cute, thank you."
Merle sneezes loudly – Link guesses that's dog language for 'yeah right'.
He's about to start arguing back when a vehicle that looks kinda like several dumpsters nailed to four wheels comes careering into the parking lot. It's either Rhett or something out of Mad Max.
Long legs unfurl out of the 'car'.
Rhett then.
He looks frazzled. Link knows how that feels.
"I am so sorry," Rhett gasps out as he gets close. "I didn't – I don't – he's freaking blind and yet somehow the worst escape artist I've ever had. I don't even – oh gosh, you must think I'm terrible at my job, l'm so –"
"I don't actually," Link says, surprising even himself. "Think you're terrible at your job."
There is the most awkward silence Link has ever created.
Which is impressive, as he's pretty practiced after thirty years.
When Rhett smiles, his cheeks get all ... appley. Round. Now he looks flustered and frazzled.
Stevie is looking between them like they're a particularly interesting tennis match, Merle still in her arms. Link does not like the look in her eyes.
"Thanks," Rhett says softly, after a beat. Then – "He's an absolute terror, I swear he pokes the other dogs until they create diversions." He lifts Merle out of Stevie's arms and rests the dog on his hip.
"You keep foiling his evil plans," Link says, stupidly, like a stupid person. Evil plans?!
"Exactly. Anyway, I better get him home before the others start a riot. Thanks, Link. And I'm really sorry, I hope I didn't get you into trouble with your boss."
Stevie gives a low whistle. "I've heard she's a hardass."
Link rolls his eyes at her, then turns to a confused Rhett. "It's fine. I bribed her with dog cuddles."
Rhett's eyes dart between them a few times before he gets it. "Well then. Glad to be of service." And he just – appears next to the bin-on-wheels and climbs in, because he's obviously a feral person who can't say goodbye properly.
Link and Stevie watch the bin-car career away.
"Well," Stevie says, in a faux-light voice. "He was cute."
Link says nothing.
THREE
It's snowing.
It started around lunchtime and hasn't let up since. It made for a hairy drive home. But it was a successful drive home, and it's a Friday evening, so Link is in his cosiest trousers with a spiked hot chocolate, curled up on the windowsill, watching the snow.
It's cosy and perfect and Link's very pleased with his new house.
He used to do this – minus the alcohol, of course – when he was a kid, curled up by the glass door and watching the snow fall while his Momma cooked dinner.
The heating's been cranked up nice and warm.
He rests his head against the window, closes his eyes …
Rat-a-tat-tat!
He jolts awoke, slams his head on the glass.
Rat-a-tat-tat-rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
"Alright," he mumbles, "I'm coming!"
He throws the door open.
On the other side of the door is Rhett.
He looks awful, to not put too fine a point on it. He looked flustered before, when Merle had ended up in Link's car, but now he looks – fraught. Pinched with worry. A little desperate.
"Are you … alright?" Link asks.
"Please tell me Merle's here," Rhett says without preamble.
Link looks behind him just to be sure – nothing. He shakes his head.
He's never seen a giant of a man deflate in on himself before. It's like someone has cut his strings.
"I can't find him anywhere. I've been looking for half an hour, he chewed through the fence and …"
The snow – beautiful, gorgeous, calming to watch – suddenly looks a little more threatening. Merle's only small.
"Give me five seconds." Link's already stuffing his pyjama trousers into his rain boots, grabbing his coat off the rack.
"You don't have to –"
"I'm an industrial engineer, organising is literally what I do. Let me help." He tucks his scarf into his coat, shoves his keys into one of his pockets and pulls the door shut. "Where have you looked?"
***
Rhett has one of his staff members manning the house, and another roaming nearby streets. There's some of his dirty laundry strewn in the garden, to help Merle find his own way back (because apparently that is a thing).
"How long do you think he's been missing?" Link asks as they tramp through the snow.
"I noticed about forty minutes ago," Rhett says, "but before that I was doing some medicine work, so – could be an hour, I guess. Not – not much more than that."
An hour in the show, which is getting thicker by the minute. Merle's only a little thing, it wouldn't take long for him to be completely buried by it. And Link's held him, and could feel those skinny little ribs. It doesn't – sound good, that's all.
Rhett's cell goes off, breaking the quiet doom spiral.
One ring – "Any news?"
Link can't hear what the interlocutor's saying, but he can tell it's negative by the way Rhett's shoulders hunch.
"Yeah, you better. Think by now Merle's got his own criminal record. Fugitive and all that.” Rhett laughs, but it's the least happy laugh Link's ever heard. "Alright, keep me updated." He shows his phone in his pocket and stares moodily at the landscape. They're getting closer to the woods. It's getting darker.
He doesn't say anything.
Link can't bear the silence. "So …" he says. "Why Merle?"
He does get a 'is this really the time?' look from Rhett, but he doesn't take it back.
"It's the coloring." Rhett says gruffly. "His coat, the pattern is called merle, and – and my favourite musician's this country singer called –"
"Merle Haggard." He doesn't mean to interrupt, but it's Merle Haggard.
"Yeah." Rhett gives him a sweet, weary smile. If they weren't in the middle of a burgeoning snowstorm looking for a tiny puppy that may or may not be in real danger, Link would call this a moment.
But they are, so it's not.
"We should split up. Cover more ground that way." Rhett says. "You gotta walk like –" he almost shuffles his feet, kicking up the snow.
"You're practiced at this then?"
"No, I've just watched a lot of true crime." Rhett switches on his torch. "Means you leave no stone unturned. Here, you go left, I'll go right." He gestures ahead of them.
Link nods grimly, switching on the torch on his phone. "Check in every ten minutes. Ring as soon as you find any signs." He sets a timer, takes the left fork.
Now that he's split from Rhett, the woods are eerily quiet. He can't hear the road, which is within walking distance; he can't even hear Rhett.
"Merle?" He yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Merle, it's Link!"
… Why did he yell that? That was dumb.
"Get it together, Neal," he mutters. "Merle!"
Nothing.
He keeps walking.
His phone rings. Rhett. Ten minutes already? He must have been waiting with his finger on call.
"Anything?"
"Not yet."
"Me either. Ring you in ten." And he hangs up again.
It's dark by now. Are dogs scared of the dark? And how, in a month, has he gone from not caring about dogs at all to roaming the freezing cold woods looking for one?
Madness, that's what it is.
He keeps walking.
He's nearly at the ten minute line when he hears it; a soft, sad whine. The noise something makes when it knows no one is coming.
"Merle?!" He starts running. "Merle!"
The noise – that sad little cry – is getting louder.
He stumbles into a clearing. There's that feeling, like he's being watched, and – he's here.
His phone rings.
"I think he's near," Link says breathlessly. "Either that or I've caught a baby werewolf. I'll drop you a pin." He hangs up and does just that.
"Merle!" he yells again.
And suddenly there is an explosion of noise; shrill little puppy barks that send winter birds flying into the sky and – and Link sees him.
Presumably he runs, but he's not sure how he gets there – just that one second he's in the middle of the clearing, the next he's kneeling in the snow, cold fingers tugging at Merle's collar to get it off the branch it's stuck on.
As soon as Merle is free, he goes ballistic; barking and squeaking and flailing and licking. Link nearly drops him, but it turns out that puppies are like velcro and Merle somehow clings on.
"Urgh," Link says, and the little beast tries to stick his tongue in Link's mouth. "You're a bit too young for me."
He tucks the – sticky, wet, squirming – puppy into his coat and sets out to find Rhett.
***
"Ok," the vet – a woman with shockingly bright red hair who barely looks old enough to be in vet school, let alone have graduated – says, packing away two vials of blood into a … blood storage kit? Link's not sure, that's what you go to vet school to learn.
As a matter of fact, Link's not sure about a lot of things, including why he's still here. But he doesn't want to leave. So he doesn't.
"... an eye out," the vet finishes.
"Sure, I will do," Rhett says. Now that the adrenaline is running out, he looks utterly wiped. "Thanks Emily. I'll wait for your call."
Emily tickles Merle under the chin; his tail reaches supersonic wagging levels. "You know I don't mind coming see this cutie."
Rhett walks her to the door, leaving Link on 'don't let Merle fall off the table' duty. When he comes back, he breathes out shakily. "What a freaking night. What a freaking month." He runs a hand through his hair, then nods forward at Link. "You, uh, want me to take him?"
Link looks down at Merle, who's snuggled himself into Link's forearm. "No, I think I'm good." Then he remembers how Rhett carries Merle, balanced on his hip like a baby, and he tentatively scoops the puppy up.
Of course, what had once been a furry potato immediately turns into a little ball of sticks and spikes, which means that Rhett has to dive in before it all ends in disaster. His hands are so cold on Link's skin, but it's not just the temperature that's giving Link goosebumps.
He's not sure Rhett's ever touched him before.
"Here," Rhett says. "Just –" And Link doesn't know exactly what happens, but suddenly he's cradling Merle like a baby, little puppy head pressed up against Link's chest. Merle doesn't look too perturbed by this.
"Thanks."
"Not a problem." Rhett's very close; his voice is very soft. "Emily said he's probably going to be fine, but it could have been really different. I owe you. Big time."
Link shrugs. "It's fine, really. I was happy to help."
"You really went above and beyond, is what I'm saying. Especially for an escape artist who peed on your couch." Up close, Rhett’s eyes are a pale greyish-green; Link's not seen eyes quite that colour before. "So, uh – let me buy you dinner? Not tonight, you're still in your pyjamas and I'm an emotional wreck, but – Sunday, maybe? I know a great pizza place, if you … like –"
"I like pizza," Link cuts off what was definitely promising to turn into a nervous ramble. "And sure. I mean, you really don't have to, but I'm not going to turn pizza down. Although maybe padlock this one up before you go."
"Great," Apples, again, apples in Rhett's cheeks. "I'll pick you up at six. You – uh – seem to have changed your mind on animals. Or dogs, at least."
He looks down at the puppy in his arms. "Yeah, I guess they're not so bad."
Safe and warm, Merle lets out a big, shuddering sigh of contentment. And then a tiny fart.
FINIS