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Tim and Stephanie were quarreling. This was not uncommon, they often bickered worse than an old married couple, but tonight, the pair of them perched on top of Old Wayne Tower, they were having a particularly foul argument.
“If you didn’t want me to come on patrol with you tonight, you should have said so.”
“Ah! Because you always listen to what I say?”
Batgirl growled, not having Red Robin’s sardonic drawl. How did he always manage to make her feel three feet tall?
“Forgive me for not leaping when you say jump.”
He whirled back towards her, anger getting the better of him. It seemed to do that a lot these days. It was actually enough to make Batgirl take a step back.
“It’s all well and good for you to make jokes about it. Someone could have gotten hurt, Steph!”
“Names!” she chided. They were so high up no-one would have heard, but the principle remained. Tim was trying to belittle her, make her feel fifteen again. Put her in her rightful place. Heat spread along her skin, and she fought the urge to outright shove him off the tower.
“No-one got hurt,” she continued. “So ‘what if, what if, what if’? Irrelevant! No-one got hurt. The lady got away but we’ll find her.”
“How?” His hands spasmed, trying to hold something that wasn’t there. “It was a witch, Stephanie. She turned a bunch of picnickers into frogs! She even had a pointy black hat! She poofed out of existence. How are we supposed to track that down?”
Batgirl’s eyes flickered behind Red Robin, her mouth dropping open. “Found her.”
Tim turned, and sure enough, there was the woman popping in and out of existence with a cloud of purple smoke near Robinson Park, by the Giella Gardens. Even from the distance and height of Wayne Tower, she was visible.
“Let me see if I can talk to her,” Batgirl murmured. “Might be able to talk her down.”
She went to leap off the edge, but Red Robin grabbed her arm, and Stephanie gasped in shock.
“No! Stay put. You’ve messed up already.”
The force with which she ripped herself free nearly threw Tim off balance. “What is your deal tonight huh?”
“Just do as you're told for once!”
It was the wrong thing to say. Stephanie inhaled sharply, as if she had been stabbed. Ice settled in Tim’s gut. In hindsight, he would curse his inability to say what he meant. He’d learned from Bruce too well. I’m worried you’ll get hurt, had come out as barking orders.
“Fuck off Tim,” Batgirl muttered, utterly tired and defeated, “You’re better than Bruce.”
She turned, and leapt off the edge, leaving a gawking Red Robin staring after her. His brain eventually caught up with his mouth and he threw himself after her.
There were a pair of lovebirds arguing.
The witch turned around, distracted from her mission of collecting ingredients. Oh. Them again.
She was just trying to get the frogs she needed for stew. The orders were piling up, and she’d been banned from her nearest swamp. Gotham was apparently a good place to collect such things - the city was built on a swamp after all - but she’d had little luck. Oh well, the people in the park would do.
The girl in purple and black had tried to talk to her when the boy in red and black had barged in and started a quarrel. The witch had left, not seeing much of a point to conversing with such unhinged people, but they seemed determined to speak to her. She turned, hands on hips, as the girl approached once more, waving off the boy who seemed in a foul mood.
“Excuse me?” the girl asked. “Why did you change those people into frogs?”
How refreshingly to the point. She would have answered the girl, but the boy was apparently not having it, yanking her back and away from the witch.
“Be careful,” he hissed.
“Don’t be rude!”
“She turned people into frogs, what makes you think she won’t hurt you?”
“Well, maybe she can turn them back.”
The couple argued back and forth, the witch standing still in a hydrangea bush.
The girl turned back around, “I mean to ask, if we got you a supply of frogs, would you turn the people back? Would they be okay?”
The witch raised her eyebrows and pouted. She opened her mouth to negotiate, when the boy cut in again.
“No, we’re not bartering with her.”
The girl seemed on the brink of tears, she was so frustrated.
“Trust me! Please!”
This was painful to watch. The boy was right to not trust the witch, but the way he was voicing his fears was not very conducive to a healthy relationship. The girl wasn’t helping matters either, but at least she seemed to have heard of the word communication.
The way that boy was handling and speaking to her though…
The witch was bored, and had enough to keep her going for a little longer. Clearly she needed to re-examine why everyone said Gotham was a good place to visit.
“You!” she yelled, making the couple freeze up. “Boy, you treat this girl no better than a dog.”
She flicked her wrist, sending the boy flying back across the park, cape over shoulders. The girl squeaked, going to run to check on him, but the witch lashed out, and grabbed the girl's wrist, holding tight.
She shrieked, but the witch held on, waiting for the boy to get to his feet. He did, and yelled in shock.
“Let her go!”
The witch harrumphed. “No, I am going to give you a fright. You can have her back when you learn to treat a person with respect and kindness. When you say the words you mean to say.”
And she vanished in a puff of smoke, smothering the girl in purple clouds.
When Tim reached the spot Stephanie had been held, the smoke was clearing. Breathing labored, he expected to find Stephanie gone, taken with the witch with the clouds. As it was, he nearly tripped over a lovely golden retriever.
Yelping, Tim stumbled back, falling on his ass. The dog got up to sniff, checking that Tim hadn’t hurt himself too badly. It plopped itself right next to Tim’s right hand. The pair stared at each other for a small while, the dog panting, Tim beginning to hyperventilate as the reality of the situation began to set in.
“Steph?” he finally whispered.
The dog barked once.
Shit.
A mere two hours later, Tim had brought the dog back to his apartment on Park Row, and sent the most humiliating text to Damian he’d ever written.
Need you to come to my apartment. Now. Steph is in trouble. Need your help. P.S. Please bring supplies for a golden retriever. I seem to be fostering one for the foreseeable future.
Damian had sent the expectedly patronizing response, but sure enough, had stormed through Tim’s front door a mere twenty minutes later. His arms and bags were full of supplies.
“Where is she?” he demanded. Round cheeks were flushed, and his green eyes flashed with concern. Tim swallowed his jealousy. Damian had a crush on Steph, but somehow that did not surprise Tim. Understandable, considering what she meant to the young teenager. Deeply aggravating at the same time, as if Tim had any right to be jealous.
Which he didn’t.
Tim winced, then took Damian through to the living room. Damian threw the bags onto the sofa, noting the lovely golden retriever snoozing on the floor.
“Oh, hello there. You’re the poor thing saddled with Drake are you?”
The dog looked up, eyes big and so alike and yet so different to Steph’s human ones, and her brush-like tail thumped on the floor. Damian got in close, letting her big head rest on his lap.
“I can take care of her. Better for her to be up at the Manor.”
“No, she’s staying here.”
Damian frowned, looking around. “Where is Stephanie?”
Tim choked on his tongue. When Damian looked back at Tim, the realization hit him. He looked down at the dog, then back to Tim, then back at the dog.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing! It was some… some witchy woman! Steph was stupid and tried to talk to her and she got turned into a dog! I did nothing!”
The sneer on Damian’s face was indescribable. He did not believe Tim was innocent for one moment.
“You’re joking?” he muttered, still in disbelief.
“With you? About her? Absolutely not.”
Tim looked at Damian, then down to his lap. It was something he was still coming to terms with, but Steph made a very pretty golden retriever. Pale blonde, long haired, friendly face and smile, panting away with the tail wagging, thumping on the floor. It was cute. And incredibly messed up.
Damian got up, dislodging the dog from his lap. “Well, now I am certainly taking her to the Manor, you cannot be trusted with her well being.”
Tim flushed red, brain buzzing with the sound of static. “We can’t. And you can’t tell her mom either.”
“What? No, she’s coming with me,” Damian argued.
Tim felt like chewing glass. When he spoke, it was tersely and with immense patience. “Are Titus and Ace neutered?”
“No,” Damian scoffed, as if it were a dumb question to ask.
“You think Steph is either?”
Damian gagged, and the conversation was promptly dropped. Tim watched as Damian ran his fingers along her temples, and the dog closed her eyes, utterly content.
“Can she recognise us? Is Stephanie still there or is it just a dog?”
Tim groaned, sitting down and letting his head fall into his hands. He heard, rather than saw, the dog move in close, paw scratching at his knee. Instinctively, he let the dog push into where she wanted to go. He tried not to squirm, but it was hard. He didn’t know whether to think of the dog as just a dog - in which case, pet the dog Tim - or Stephanie - in which case, he couldn’t look at her without feeling ill.
His thumb ran along the dog’s forehead and she chuffed appreciatively.
What a life.
Tim explained to Damian, “She knows us. But that might just be because she’s a golden retriever. They trust everyone. I don’t know… I let her out earlier through a glass door to go to the bathroom -”
“Disgusting.”
Tim glared at Damian, resisting the urge to squeeze the dog’s head and protect her from Damian’s interjection.
“And I couldn’t get her back in. She thought the glass door was still closed. Kept crying and begging me to open the door. I had to mime it before she finally put a paw inside.”
Damian groaned, throwing his head back. Somehow, that sounded like Steph.
“How do we fix it then? We can’t have Batgirl being a dog for the rest of her life.”
Tim swallowed. “Find the woman who did it.”
“How?”
Tim growled, “I don’t know,” which only served to make Damian’s superiority complex flare.
Narrowing his eyes, he tutted, “Watch your temper.”
Tim wasn’t having it. “Damian I swear to God -”
Stephanie’s paw went up, resting on Tim’s forearm. When he looked down, she was looking up at him, the very definition of puppy dog eyes.
Feeling his own eyes sting, Tim fell forward, forehead resting against the dog’s own.
“She said… the witch said that I treat Steph worse than a dog. That I could have her back when I treated her with respect and kindness which is… Ridiculous! When am I not respectful and kind!”
Damian’s expression was inscrutable.
Tim moaned again. “Oh Steph… I’m gonna have to take you for walks.”
“Play fetch… pick up her p-”
“Yes, Damian, thank you.”
Damian stood up, brushing his hands down his pants. “Well. I have everything you will need there. Food, plus supplements, a collar and lead… a ball and a few toys… a tug rope. Waste bags.”
“Oh my God,” Tim groaned again.
Stephanie twitched, huffing and puffing and squirming out of Tim’s grip. It seemed she didn’t enjoy being held onto too tightly.
Yeah, that sounded like Steph.
Tim spent the afternoon on his sofa, looking at every and any ‘what to do when getting a dog’ post on the internet he could find.
She needed combing three times a week. Tim could do that. Don’t let her off the lead, Tim could do that. Needs up to two hours of movement a day, thirty minutes of intense exercise. The fact that she was now a retriever, having it literally built into her DNA to play fetch, made this somewhat less daunting.
Seventy dollars a month for food?
Tim groaned again, head smacking off the arm of the sofa. He would have stood up, if not for the fact that Stephanie had decided it was the ideal time to take a nap. On Tim’s chest. He let her be, the weight wasn’t painful.
His brain, meanwhile, was buzzing.
Could he just wait it out?
No, no no. Absolutely not. He couldn’t just wait it out. His sort-of-not-really girlfriend had been turned into a dog.
He could tell there was very little of Steph left in that big head of hers. Would it be permanent? Would she be changed back and be so emotionally scarred that she would be unable to function in everyday society again?
Was he overthinking it?
If Tim were honest with himself, he would have readily accepted the fact that he just missed Stephanie.
It was one hundred percent her fault last night however. Talking to the bad guy, what was she thinking? Well, she wasn’t, clearly. And now she was a dog. And now it was Tim’s mess to clean up. Literally.
You can have her back when you learn to treat a person with respect and kindness.
Tim looked down at the snoozing dog.
“You wanna go for a walk?”
Tim’s response was a scrambling panting dog, and a paw in the crotch. “Right,” he wheezed. “A walk.”
He packed some food, a throw toy, and a blanket. He looked outside, seeing the heavy clouds, and also threw in a raincoat, just in case. It felt wrong, intensely wrong, to put a collar on her. Not that the dog minded much, no, she was just going in circles over and over and over, leading Tim to enter wrestling mode trying to get the clip on the lead attached to the collar.
“Steph… Steph!”
She hopped and jumped and clambered all over Tim, unable to properly express her excitement, practically beating Tim onto the floor. He lay there for a moment, pondering his life.
This was so dumb. He’d strangle the witch if he ever found her again.
A wet nose pressed at his ear, and Tim yelped, shooting upright. Faced with a happily panting dog, Tim sighed.
“I don’t want to treat you like a dog Steph.”
No reaction. Swallowing tensely, Tim declared, “Steph, sit.”
She sat.
“Oh, now you listen, huh?”
The dog said nothing, and continued to pant, waiting for Tim to actually do something.
Hating himself, Tim attached the lead, wrapping the end several times around his wrist, and opened the front door. She followed along, tail sweeping like a brush, and seemed quite content to lead the way, almost instinctively knowing which direction she wanted to go. She sat at crossings, awaiting the okay to go from Tim, and consistently looked back over her shoulder, making sure he was keeping pace with her.
It was kind of adorable, if Tim didn’t think about it too hard.
But the woman’s words kept floating in his head.
He did not treat Steph like a dog. And how was making Steph a literal dog supposed to make him treat her with kindness? He was always nice! To Stephanie especially.
As the happy dog padded alongside Tim, he continued to brood.
Last night was a farce. Stephanie was too trusting, too determined to believe the good in people, even those who blatantly had no interest in returning the favor. What was her plan yesterday? Go to a pet store and buy a bunch of frogs and do a swap?
Maybe he’d been too harsh. She’d sworn at him. She didn’t normally do that.
What did she mean when she said he was better than Bruce? At what? Not being an ass?
Too late Tim realized he was grinding his teeth, feet stomping on the sidewalk more aggressive than normal. Stephanie continued to look back at him, and as if sensing his distress moved closer, pressing her torso up against Tim’s legs as the pair walked along. It did not escape Tim’s notice that some girls and boys his age were blatantly checking him out as he walked along. Handsome young guy with a pretty dog - made sense. But his expression must have looked thunderous, joyless and angry.
His mood became even fouler when Damian’s words came true. Dogs tended to go to the toilet where and when required once outside.
Still, gross.
When they reached the park, Tim wasted no time in finding a resting spot. Sitting underneath an oak tree, the dog quickly joined him, lying with her head on his knee and thigh once more, panting softly. She was a big warm lump, cuddlier than he’d anticipated. He buried a hand in the fur around her neck, rubbing it like a massage.
“She said I treated you like a dog,” he murmured, staring into the middle distance. There were families playing, other dogs chasing after balls, and couples going on long walks. Jealousy churned in his stomach.
“Do I? I don’t. I don’t want to. And what does she know? She saw us arguing for three minutes. And you were dumb. I stand by that.”
Stephanie made something of a grumble noise, shuffling and moving until Tim was able to rub her belly. He did so unthinkingly, and continued to muse outloud.
“But my ranting wasn’t a good look either. And I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. But… Ugh! You drive me mad Steph. I mean it. Hey… can you bark if you understand me? Speak? Steph, speak!”
Stephanie rolled onto her back, tongue lolling out, looking incredibly dopey, and made no indication she understood the command. Tim sighed, slapping her tummy and creating the satisfying hollow thud noise as he did so.
“Am I mean to you? It’s not intentional. I worry. A lot. And I know I should trust you, and I do trust you with my life. I don’t know if I trust you with yours. Does that make sense? I guess I… I guess I could do better at showing it. Is that what you meant? Me being better than Bruce? I can admit I’m wrong… He’s not so good at that. Though it takes me a while.”
Tim heaved a world weary sigh, then rummaged through his bag for the ball. Stephanie immediately became alert, her reason for being narrowed into one simple fact - she really, really, really, needed to get that ball. Tim smiled reluctantly.
“Come on, let’s play a bit.”
She certainly lived up to her name. She fetched the ball again and again, never tiring, never becoming bored. The enthusiasm was infectious, just like human Steph. When Tim’s arm began to ache, and the ball she was bringing back became too disgustingly slimy to handle anymore, he called it quits. Her tail continued to wag, and she returned to her sitting position. She watched him eat his sandwich with the biggest eyes, working magic to make Tim feel pity. He removed a piece of ham, and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, she took it from his fingers, chewing away quite happily.
“You’d sooner bite my hand off if I tried that yesterday,” he murmured, licking his fingers clean. “Or any time, thinking about it. You weren’t much for romance. Which… feeding a dog a piece of ham is not romantic. But… Well. You get what I mean.”
Stephanie rolled in the grass, apparently determined to get her coat dirty. Tim winced, not enjoying the thought of giving her a bath.
“Steph? Steph! Sit, sit for me.”
She did so, panting and watching for what Tim wanted her to do next. Curious, he held out his hand, palm up, and she immediately slapped her own paw into his fingers, ready to shake.
“Clever girl, huh?”
She barked, a sharp, low but loud noise that made him wince.
“Sorry, don’t mean to be belittling. Honest.” He began to pick at his nails. “I know you don’t love me anymore. I don’t blame you for it. But I did apologize for being so mean. Before. Maybe I should do it again. And… actually stick to it. Hmm.”
Stephanie nudged his hand, wanting the petting to return. Tim sighed indulgently, letting her rest her big head in his lap. He ran his thumbs behind her ears.
“You’re so dopey looking,” he laughed. The smile froze very quickly though, and he hated himself for getting any joy out of this.
He hated this situation. He hated his life. What was he supposed to do? A girl he still very much loved was a dog! He could barely stand to look at her, but he couldn’t bear the thought of handing her to Damian, or anyone else. This was his fault. He’d pushed her and grabbed her and yelled at her and hadn’t protected her. His one freaking job…
“Oh, Steph,” he moaned, falling forward onto her back. The dog jolted, unsure if she was willing to tolerate the weight and pressure of a miserable teenager. “I can’t do this! I can’t… I don’t know how to help you.”
No, I am going to give you a fright. You can have her back when you learn to treat a person with respect and kindness. When you say the words you mean to say.
Stephanie continued to pant, chest rising and falling quickly, as the boy slumped over the blonde dog stared at nothing. Thoughtlessly, he pressed several kisses to the dog’s head, and she simply grumphed, twisting and writhing out of his grip.
Worth a shot. A curse from a witch broken by a kiss? But no, Stephanie was still a very pretty golden retriever. No magic smoke in sight. Tim watched her carefully, trying to spy any change, but there was none.
Probably for the best. A girl appearing where a dog had once been would be quite a spectacle for the park.
As it was, Tim felt what little hope he’d manage to cling on to begin to wither away. Perhaps he could ask Bruce to ask Zatanna. Or maybe Constantine if he were desperate. Or Klarion if even more so.
Three minutes passed, and Tim decided enough was enough. Time to go home. He’d humiliated himself thoroughly, crying into a dog’s coat the way he had. A spell would not be broken by a tearful confession, that much was true.
Stephanie was less biddable on the walk back. She strayed and strained on the lead, finding pigeons to chase, people to greet, smells to sniff, plus the necessary toilet trips again.
Tim swallowed the lump in his throat, and with it any tears of frustration that threatened his demeanor. Get home, feed the dog, do some work from home, eat dinner, feed the dog, brush the dog, let the dog pee, go to bed, making sure the dog did not - absolutely under no circumstances - sleep in the bed with him. Easy.
Of course, come midnight, buried under his duvet, there was pawing and whining at his bedroom door.
He caved far too easily.
Tim let her in, and she soon enough joined him on the mattress, curling into a tight ball. She gave a world weary sigh, then began to snore.
Tim breathed unsteadily, chest and throat thick with unspilled tears. Shifting, he moved closer so he was resting his head by hers.
One last go.
He whispered, “I’ve never been good with knowing or saying what I want and mean, you know that. You quoted that Jane Austen character at me once, the one from Emma? You said I feel too much and don’t have the right words. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. And I do love you, even if I can’t show it anymore. Never stopped. So, come back? And I’ll try to show it better. Please. Please, come back so you can tell me I’m rude and bad tempered and too smug and that I’m not wrong to worry but I show it all wrong? Please Steph? Is that what you needed to hear? That I’ll be better? That I love you? That I’m sorry? Because it’s all true. So… come back. Please.”
No reaction.
Tim sighed, falling away from her, and turned on his side. Staring at his bedroom wall, he slowly fell asleep, breath rattling out his lungs, wet and unsteady.
Tim woke up to a sound of wailing that he had never heard before. Piercing screaming. He jolted upright to see Stephanie - human Stephanie - rolling off the bed, pulling at the covers as she did so. She collapsed onto the floor, covered and protected by the sheets.
“Steph?”
“Why am I in your bed butt naked!?”
Oh yeah. Tim rolled out of the bed, running to a chest of drawers, fumbling to grab her a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He threw them at her, spying the hands that emerged from the duvet, and listened to her distraught crying.
“Steph,” he began, moving closer to the bundle on the floor.
Her wailing increased in pitch as he got closer like a siren. Don’t touch, it bellowed. He stumbled back.
“No, I promise. You’re fine. Nothing happened. I swear. I would never.”
“I don’t know anymore!” she cried out, head finally emerging from the pile of sheets, though she kept curled up underneath. Despite her Batgirl suit having vanished into the ether, the heavy eye makeup and lipstick she employed was still in place. Partially, at least, the streaks of tears had smeared them across her cheeks. “Last thing I remember you were yelling at me and there was this woman who wouldn’t let me go and she said… she said…”
“That I could have you back when I learned how to treat you with respect and kindness. When I say the words I mean to say to you.”
Tim did not want to admit it to himself, but the waifish image of Steph wrapped up in his sheets on the floor, in his clothes no less, wasn’t exactly an unwanted sight, but the circumstances made him sick.
“What happened?” she asked flatly, all her tears dried up.
“Um… Well. She said I treat you worse than a dog so… you were a dog. For a day.”
“A dog?”
“A golden retriever. You were a very pretty dog. Damian wanted to take you home, if that makes you feel better.”
“It does not.”
“Oh.”
She frowned, mouth downturned. “A dog?” she repeated. Tim nodded, and she swallowed loudly. “The witch… she said that you treated me like one.”
Tim once again nodded, not finding the correct words, and there was a beat of silence. Her tears were soon replaced with anger. “The hell? How does you learning a lesson still negatively impact me! That’s not fair! I don’t exist to make you a better person Tim. A dog? A dog! Call me a bitch and be done with it!”
Tim got on the floor in front of her, watching Stephanie sniff miserably.
“No, you don’t exist to make me better.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she fell forward, right into his arms. He caught her easily, and pulled the duvet around them both, cradling them in the warmth.
“Well, go one then,” she groused against his collarbone. “Did you say the words you had to learn. Tell me how my misfortune taught you a lesson.”
Tim's hands pulled her hair off her back, clearing the way for him to rest his fingers on her shoulder blades.
“You’re right to try talking to people first. I’m glad you want to do that, you’ve grown so much. Going from punch first ask questions later, to that, is why I’m so proud of you. Because you got past that anger all on your own. But I worry about you being taken advantage of. You’re so… good. People will ruin that given the chance.”
“So you yell and grab me and belittle me. Put me on a lead?”
“No, I… I’m wrong. And I’m sorry. I’ll say it as often as I have to, because it’s the truth.”
She leaned back, and held him by the chin.
“Repeat what you said to me as a dog then.”
Tim stared into Stephanie’s eyes, feeling as much under a spell as she had just been.
“That… I’m bad with words. If I loved you less I’d be able to talk about it more. I’m sorry for it. I love you. I’ll do better at showing it, but I still need help. Maybe less extreme than doggy daycare but it’s true. I begged you to come back, and you did.”
Her red eyes were shining once again.
“I can’t make you better.”
“No.”
“But you love me still?”
“Yes.”
Her hand moved from his jaw up to his cheek. They stared at each other for a long while, Tim nakedly and earnestly gazing at her, whilst Stephanie appeared much more cynical, trying to see a crack, a flaw, some hint that it all would fall apart if put under pressure. She didn’t find what she was looking for. She smiled, finally she smiled, and the pit in Tim’s stomach eased. She returned to resting her cheek on his collarbone, sighing indulgently.
“You could have at least had some clothes ready for me,” she teased, voice raw from her crying and emotions.
“I thought it would take longer than a day to break the curse.”
“You didn’t believe in yourself?”
“Well, that’s one way to put it. Steph? I kinda bared my heart to you there. Can you… Do you…”
“Do I love you too?”
“Please don’t torture me,” he whispered.
Her hands moved up from resting in her lap, up and up, until they’d wound around his shoulders and her fingers had curled into his hair. “I dunno. Maybe you need a stint as an animal and then I’ll make up my mind.”
Her lips were awfully close.
He kissed her, and it was so easy. Easier than talking, easier than breathing. She melted further into his arms, breath tasting not at all of canned beef, to Tim's endless delight.
Her lips moved to his cheek. “Did you enjoy looking after a golden retriever?”
Oh. Dangerous question. No right answer.
“You were very pretty,” he said simply.
He heard and felt her laugh, then sharply, loudly, she barked right in his ear.
The spell she held on him broke, and Tim flinched away, trying to ignore Stephanie’s uproarious and joyful laughter at having caught him out.
“No fair,” he grumbled.
Stephanie continued to laugh, looking a mess with all that smeared makeup. “Payback! You got a lot to do to make it right, you know.”
He returned to her immediately, reveling in the way her arms went up to welcome him almost compulsively, wrapping and holding on so tight.
She was still laughing when she pushed, “You’re in the doghouse now, for real, Tim.”
He kissed her again, because it was so easy to do so, greedily swallowing her giggles.
“I can handle that,” he proclaimed. “...I think.”