Work Text:
"Okay, what do you think?" Quentin sits back on his heels to look up at Eliot, a playful yet proud gleam in his eye. Eliot has already been watching the whole delicate process, but he still makes a show of tilting his head to survey Quentin's handiwork, tapping his chin with a hum.
The soft wool snood he's tucked Rupert into kind of accentuates his loose face wrinkles and pushes his drooping jowls forward, but it'll definitely keep his ears out of the snow. Rupert himself doesn't seem especially bothered, glancing back and forth between the two of them as his tail swishes across the floor.
"I'm still not sure of the pattern," Eliot sighs, squinting at the design in the weave. "What did Penny say it was?"
"He didn't," Quentin snorts, reaching out to scratch Rupert's chin. "I decided not to ask, since he already looked mad enough about Alice telling everyone he can knit. But Kady said it was a warming charm."
Eliot hums some more. "It doesn't really match anything," he points out, then frowns when he catches Quentin snickering. "Hey, you of all people should respect how much effort I've put into curating this dog's wardrobe."
"I definitely do," Quentin agrees, grinning up at him, "but you should know by now that it's kind of a lost cause." He turns back to Rupert, rubbing his wrinkly forehead. "Even in a Chanel harness, or whatever, he's still gonna drool everywhere and trip over his ears."
"It's Versace," Eliot grumbles, but he has a hard time holding back a smile. And the snood is pretty endearing—the same way Quentin is, all bundled up in his coat and scarf as he stands up with Rupert's leash in mittened hand. He still claims not to see the uncanny resemblance between himself and the dog, but Eliot decided some months ago to give up dying on that particular hill.
"I suppose it'll have to do," he acquiesces with a sigh, playing up the drama just to make Quentin roll his eyes. Still, after a moment of hesitation Eliot bends down to adjust the snood himself, gently smoothing over a folded edge and dropping a quick kiss on Rupert's nose before he straightens up. "Alright. Shall we?"
He can feel Quentin's warm, happy gaze on him as he opens the front door, letting winter air come swirling into the foyer. With a flourish, he lets Quentin lead Rupert past, then joins them out on the front steps to shut the door and take Quentin's hand as they start down to the sidewalk.
Rupert is already tromping around in the snow on the curb, tail wagging even though the couple inches of powdery white are much deeper for him than they are for anybody else. Eliot watches him sniff intently at some stranger's boot prints for a moment, almost certainly getting more snow in his nose than anything else. At least the snood really does keep his ears from dragging through the wet slush - and on second look, maybe it matches the harness a bit more than Eliot thought.
Biting back a smile, he turns to Quentin, ready to suggest a route for the walk that would conveniently swing them past the dog park—but Quentin is looking away, gazing up the street and smiling at the quiet, snowy cityscape around them. At the soft look of wonder on his face, Eliot feels a familiar warmth settle in his chest, immune to the cold and wind and snow.
There's more snow in the forecast, and once the temperature gets a bit lower he's sure even Rupert won't be very enthusiastic about going outside, but for now it's perfect, peaceful—and Eliot knows there's nowhere he would rather be than right here, watching Quentin take in the simple magic of their snow-dusted street.
Then Quentin shivers, breaking the spell over them both, and Eliot moves closer to nudge his shoulder. "Warm enough?"
Quentin turns to smile at him, rubbing his mittens together. "Yeah, once we get walking I'll be—"
With a loud woof, Rupert cuts between them and behind Quentin's legs, his leash snaking around Quentin's ankle as he tries to take a step out of the dog's way and abruptly loses his balance. He catches himself against Eliot's chest with a gasp, and Rupert, completely oblivious, scampers around them again, winding the leash against Eliot's calves and pushing them closer together. Then he sits down in the snow to scratch at his neck with his back foot, making his collar jingle merrily.
Eliot looks from Quentin to the dog and back again, watching Q blink up at him in dumbfounded shock for a moment and knowing his own expression must be mirroring him. Then they both start to laugh at the same time.
"Oh dear," Eliot murmurs, winding his arms around Quentin's waist under his coat. "How about now?"
"Better," Quentin admits with another laugh. He wriggles just a little closer, almost enough for the cold tip of his nose to brush Eliot's. A whine from below interrupts them before he can say anything else, making them both look down at Rupert, who gazes up at them expectantly as if wondering what they're wasting time standing around for. His tail is still wagging though, making half an angel in the snow behind him.
"You did this," Quentin reminds him, making Rupert tilt his head. "You don't get to be impatient about it."
"At least he can't run off," Eliot points out, when Rupert gets distracted by another nearby boot print. "And, I mean, while we're here…" He trails off as Quentin looks back up at him, putting a halfhearted attempt into looking innocent before a playfully knowing smile curls its way onto Quentin's mouth. Eliot can't help grinning himself, the same way he can't help leaning in, and feels Quentin's smile dissolve against his lips as Quentin kisses him back, soft and sweetly warm.