Work Text:
Queenie sits in the living room with a book in her lap, not quite reading the words. She scans over a sentence again as a beam of sunlight filters through the blinds into the room, catching her eye. She can hear soft, quick footsteps falling down the stairs.
"Queenie," Mini skitters into the room, a magazine in her hands. Queenie's fairly certain she's read that one, a gossipy edition of their local newspaper that gave little actual information, at least ten times. "Look at this."
Shoved into Queenie's face is an advertisement for dog walking. It's amateurly made, clearly a kid trying to earn money. She raises an eyebrow, squinting to read the text.
Mini grabs it back before Queenie can finish the sentence at the bottom. "It’s a dog walking ad!”
She blinks. “Dog walking?”
“It’s a dog walking business.”
“Yes, I get that.” Queenie closes her book and places it onto the table. “Why?"
Mini rolls her eyes. "Kids have to make money."
"Yes, I get that." Queenie repeats. "What I don't get is why you're showing me a dog walking ad."
"It's--" Mini shrugs. "You know."
"You're ridiculous." She mutters. Mini sits onto the couch, leaning onto Queenie.
"That's how we take Dingo off our hands." Mini grins, leaning in to peck Queenie on the lips.
Queenie goes to return the gesture before she processes what Mini says. "That's-- Mini."
"What?"
"That's for dogs. Like, dog pets." Queenie laughs, full chested. "Dingo is not a pet."
"Well…" Mini goes silent. "He could still count"
"We aren't gonna sell him off to some random kid." Queenie kisses Mini once, then twice. "We can just give him to Wolfman. They can go on a walk together."
"Putting those two together is how we end up with half of the band in jail." Mini whispers. Queenie gaze softens and she can't resist a fond smile.
They both giggle, leaning in together. Queenie's tail wags behind her, thumping onto the couch.