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Yami had good days at work. Sometimes. He was sure if he thought back, he could recall one day from a couple of years ago that had been good. The rest of the time they went on a scale of tolerable to Tuesdays. Today had been a Tuesday level. Bullshit paperwork, idiots who didn't know better and that kid who kept trying to put a fork in the electric socket. Tuesday level of shittiness, and it was only Thursday. He unlocked the crappy door on his apartment. A locked door meant no unexpected visitors sitting on his sofa eating his chips, drinking his coffee and leaving mythical creatures in places that they shouldn't be left. Thank fuck. Finral's perkiness would just make him feel crosser.
A small voice in his head reminded him that Finral’s perkiness was interesting and getting cross at him was fun.
Stupid small voice.
Yami dropped his kit at the door, slipped off his boots and reached down to check his slippers. You only put your foot into a shoe containing a baby Wyvern once before you learn the importance of checking your footwear before putting it your feet into it. No dragons in the slippers today.
The fridge too was remarkably free of mythical creatures. There were footprints in the butter and the eggs had been rearranged into a circle in the salad box, but Yami was sure that those were old changes. His beer was unaffected, and that was the only thing that mattered at the moment. He took a bottle and dropped onto the sofa, avoiding the burnt areas from the last fosterling who had decided that the sofa was the same shape as a mother dragon.
No dragons in the apartment today. Maybe the day was going to improve. Cold beer, dragon and Finral-free apartment and a bit of peace and quiet. He might order pizza, watch a shit movie then drink until he passed out on the sofa.
Before putting the plan into action, he found himself scrolling through his phone. Pictures and news from the Rescue Centre were always top of his feed, and he could never decide if it was something Finral had done, or if his phone just hated him. New hatchlings today the headline read, followed by a picture of a pile of grey scaled, amber eyed dragons tumbled together in a nest. He counted ten shining eyes staring at the camera. The caption read, Seven additions to the Centre's creche after egg smuggling ring broken. There was a bit more about the camouflage abilities of baby what-ever-they weres, and how they hatched in the warm rain of somewhere-hot-that-isn't near-here, but Yami ignored that. He scrolled down to try to find the sports results, but he was met with more dragon stories, tips on the proper care of dragons and protecting dragons in their natural environment. Stupid phone. Finral had done something to it. Yami stuffed it into his pocket.
One of the best things about the house being empty was that there was no one to comment on how long he used his own bathroom. He could go for a dump whenever he wanted, without someone complaining that he was taking too long, or needed to change his diet, or 'Oh my god, Yami, did something die inside you before it could get out?'
Someone being Finral, obviously.
He was going to make the best of it. He took yesterday's paper to the bathroom and settled down to get busy. It was not until he had found a comfortable position, flicked to the sports pages that his nerves started jangle. It felt like he was being watched. It also felt like Finral had done something stupid. Yami got that feeling a lot.
Ten shining eyes on the picture. Seven new baby dragons. Yami could do the math.
Oh shit.
He looked around the room with a new wariness. There, at the far end of the shower curtain were two points of amber light. Yami stared. The lights disappeared, then reappeared as their owner blinked.
A dragon. A fucking dragon on the shower curtain. Yami was going to kill Finral. He pulled out his phone.
You missing something?
The two points of light were ascending the shower curtain. Yami watched.
Oh, hi Yami. You good?
Bastard. Count the fucking eyes.
The message flicked to read. Then nothing.
You'd better be sweating, Yami thought. The pair of golden eyes on top of the shower curtain hissed at Yami's knees.
Seven hatchlings. Twelve eyes located. That left one dragon unaccounted for. Where was it?
The shower curtain dragon hissed at Yami's knees again. Oh. Not his knees. Yami looked down to his pants on the floor. His pants looked back up at him.
Finral was a dead man.
Umm. So. I counted the eyes. Finral replied eventually. Then. I'm missing two, aren't I?
Yes. You are. Why are they here?
Well, the power's out at my house, and these guys need hot running water to hatch.
You put dragons in my shower to hatch.
Technically, I put the eggs in the shower to hatch.
Yami was composing a response full of words that baby dragons should not be allowed to read, but he was interrupted by Finral typing too fast to read what he was writing. WAIT. Yami. Are you in bathrom? with the babies?
Where the hell do you think I am?
Oh, my god. Teh babies. DOnt move. IM cooming.
The dragon in Yami's pants was purring. That was probably some terrible euphemism that Yami did not want to think about.
Just dont do anthing. dont. THere only babies. IM coming
I am going to kill you, Finral. You are dead.
imcoming dont move.
Finral. I am sitting on the pan. I am not waiting here until you come and sort out your dragon problem.
Im getting inthecar. don't frighten them. they spit acid if theyre scared.
ACID! I hate you.
He hoped Finral's lack of response was because he was driving. Fast.
Yami had spent a fair amount of his life in bathrooms. He considered himself a connoisseur of good shitting time. Quality bathroom time included a newspaper, no interruptions and that toilet paper with the puppies on it. It did not include dragons. Acid spitting dragons. The one in his pants had curled up against his foot and fallen asleep.
Definitely a euphemism.
The other was glaring from its spot on top of the shower curtain. It looked like it was considering the angles and trajectories required to spit acid so that it would hit a vulnerable part. Hopefully it was aiming at Yami’s eye. Their stare off seemed to last for months. At least. Maybe years, before Yami heard the familiar sound of Finral's keys in the lock and hurried footsteps in the corridor. "Don't move, Yami. Don't scare the babies."
"I'm not moving. Or scaring babies. Just get them out of here." Shower curtain dragon hissed again.
The door handle twisted, then stopped.
"Umm. Yami. Are you decent? "
"I'm sitting on the toilet. There is an acid spitting dragon sleeping in my pants. Work it out."
Finral hesitated before answering. Yami could imagine the contortions his face was making on the other side of the door. "Right. I'll just get you some spare pants first, then."
"I will kill you."
There were the sounds of the bedroom door opening, then crashes as though things were being thrown to the floor. A pair of pants. Could it be that hard to find them without destroying his bedroom? Finral seemed to take an age to return, and when he did, he still did not open the door. "Next question. Have you, you know, done anything? Because, well, they are just baby dragons, and they are sensitive to toxic emissions and..."
"Get in here and get these dragons, now."
"Yeah. Sure. I'm coming in now."
Finral pushed the door open a crack and entered gingerly. He had his eyes averted and a handkerchief over his mouth. Because he was looking at everything that was not Yami, he spotted the shower curtain dragon first. "Oh, hello. Aren't you beautiful?"
Shower curtain dragon hissed and spat acid. The only thing that Finral had to protect himself was the spare pair of pants he had brought with him, so they took the brunt of the acid attack. They were Yami's second best pants and now they were smoking with acid burns.
Could you kill someone more than once?
"How are you going to get it out of here, Finral?"
"I was hoping that it would be sleeping because they are really very young. Did you feed them?"
"Does it look like I fed them? I've been on the toilet waiting for you. I could hardly order take out."
Finral ignored Yami's tone. He had his head tilted to one side as he observed shower curtain dragon. "Once it’s had a meal, it should fall asleep and I can get them both back to the centre."
"What do they eat? And can I get off the fucking toilet?"
Finral glanced back towards Yami, looking pointedly towards his feet rather than anything higher. He spotted the dragon and looked like he had to restrain himself from lunging forward to grab it into his arms. "She's beautiful, isn't she. Well, she's sleeping, so she must have had a feed. We just need to find what she ate, and we can feed her gorgeous brother up there. It's probably safer if you don't move until they're both asleep." The blush on Finral's face probably meant 'it's safer for me if you don't move until they're both asleep, because that will give me time to escape before you can put on your pants and chase me.'
It turned out it was not hard to work out what the baby dragon had been feasting on. "That's my good toilet paper!"
"They live in rainforest environment. That's why they need warm running water to hatch, and their first meal is wood pulp from their mother," Finral explained as he held out sheets of the nice toilet paper to the shower curtain dragon. It looked murderous, but obviously decided that hunger was driving force for the moment as it snatched the paper from Finral's hand with sharp taloned claws.
It had eaten most of the roll, before its eyes began to droop closed. It was down to the cardboard tube when it decided to climb down the shower curtain with slow deliberate movements. Finral stepped back once it stood on the edge of the bath. Its abdomen was swollen with toilet paper, so it looked like a misshapen potato with a head, legs and wings. It balanced for a moment, then leaned forward and toppled onto the ground, where it gave its wings a brief, embarrassed flutter. It staggered towards Yami's feet and curled up alongside its sibling to sleep.
Yami glared at Finral. Finral finally lifted his eyes to look at Yami.
"So," Finral started in a small voice. "I think if you move your feet, I can grab them both in your pants, and I'll just leave you these ones," he held up the acid scarred pair, "instead. Probably better if I take the babies back to the centre, and not stay for tea."
Yami did not answer.
Finral had no choice but to continue. "I'm going to lean forward and pull your pants off you, so if you could move the dragons a little bit I can slip them off without exciting them. That's it. Now I'm just going to give a quick tug and you shouldn't feel a thing." He looked up and gave a nervous giggle. "What would people think if they could hear us?"
"I hate you," Yami said.
Finral pulled once. The pants came free, baby dragons and all. Then, somehow faster than humans should be able to move, they were bundled into Finral's arms along with the pants and he was running down the stairs shouting goodbye.
Yami heard the front door open, then the sound of keys being removed from the outside. Yami sighed and stood up. He threw the still smoking pants into the sink and doused them with water. Little bastard. They were good pants. He went to find another pair so he could go to the store to get more toilet paper. And beer.
On the way back with his purchases, he wondered if he needed to change his grading scale of shit days. Today was a Tuesday-with-dragons bad. He'd have to remember that.
He was just settling down with a fresh beer and priming the random movie that Netflix thought he'd want to watch, when his phone buzzed. It was a picture message. A bundle of sleeping baby dragons curled around each other. Seven. He counted the tails.
Thanks. Also. Don't worry about the bill for your hot water. I'll put it on expenses. F
Finral was dead the next time Yami saw him.
He pressed play on the movie. The title sequence started with some stirring music.
How to Tame your Dragon.
Fuck.