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The light of the torch didn’t do much to increase visibility. Dust motes danced in the beam, and the house was such a grimy clutter that whatever the light hit seemed shapeless and grey. Kent’s ears were perked, and every creak and groan from the old house put him on edge. The murderer was with them in there somewhere, but it was such a maze that they’d had to split up the whole group to cover every entrance. He’d been able to hear Mansell for a bit as they’d continued down separate paths, but it hadn’t been long before the sounds had been muffled and then disappeared completely.
He let out a shuddering breath and tried to steady himself. Yes, they were dealing with a murderer, but this scenario wouldn’t be nearly as unnerving if it hadn’t been for this dark house suitable for a horror film. He was in the middle of chastising himself for letting the atmosphere and his imagination get to him when he heard chains and whining somewhere from the dark.
He froze.
“Mansell?” Kent asked cautiously.
The chains scraped across the floor and the whine grew louder. He spun around, shining the light around the room. His mind was already conjuring up various creatures lurking behind him, when the light fell upon a dark moving shape of matted fur, and eyes that shone ominously. He didn’t see any more, as in that moment of fright, he’d taken a step back and tripped over something behind him, sending the torch flying across the floor.
He heard the floorboards creak as the weight of the beast shifted, the chains clanked, and a low growl emanated from the dark. Kent held his breath, waiting for whatever it was to pounce, but from the dark he instead heard a pitiful yelp. The yelp of a dog.
He scrambled to get up from the dusty floor and moved over to pick up the torch again. Shining the light back on the shape, now that his mind wasn’t clouded by his own imagination running wild, he clearly saw the emaciated form of a dog, chained up with no food or drink. It’s fur matte and tangled, and any and every thought of the murderer in the house flew out the window.
Kent moved towards the dog, slowly and cautiously. It studied him closely, but it didn’t move a muscle as he closed the distance between them.
“Hi, hello, who left you here all on your own?” Kent asked it in a high-pitched friendly voice, and the dog immediately responded with a tail thumping against the floor. It tried to take a step toward him, chain rustling as it did, but it jumped back as if in pain.
Kent’s heart bled as he realised it had been chained up with a prong collar for so long that it had dug into its neck, and some of the fur was matted with blood.
“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” he said, as he dared to move closer. The dog whined, and looked as if it was about to move towards him again, but remembering what had happened before it just moved its paws restlessly in place.
Kent was close enough to touch it now. He held his hand up for the dog to sniff, and as it did so, it leaned its head into his palm for a pet. The fur felt as grimy as the rest of the house looked, but the dog closed its eyes blissfully as he gently scratched it behind the ear.
It had known him for two minutes and it already trusted him so implicitly.
It made Kent’s blood boil that someone could look at a being so happy and trusting and treat it like this dog had been treated, but there was nowhere to direct his anger, so he tried to quell it, and focus on helping the dog instead.
He kept petting the dog as long as it seemed interested which was longer than he had anticipated. Clearly the dog hadn’t experienced much affection before and it was lapping it up, now that there was someone to give it attention.
Kent worried that he would betray its instant trust once he tried to remove the collar, but he had to free it. He slowly lowered his hand to rest on the collar, and the dog pulled back in pain, before shoving its nose into Kent’s hand again. He petted it some more while trying to figure out what to do. It hadn’t registered the pain as having anything to do with him, so that was good, but that probably wouldn’t last once he really started to remove it.
He drew in a deep breath to steady himself.
“Sorry, buddy, I’ll try to do this as fast as possible,” he said as his fingers searched the chain around the neck for an unhooking mechanism. The dog grew restless beneath him. It whined and tried to pull away, but Kent was quick and once it was unhooked, he quickly pulled it free from around the dog’s neck. It yelped loudly and jumped back at the sudden pain, but it wasn’t long before it sought him out for comfort again, not linking the pain to anything he had done at all.
He wondered if it had tried to get comfort from the monster who had done this to it in the first place, and his anger flared up once more. He already loved this dog, and he ran his hands along the rough and smelly fur without a care.
“You’re such a good dog! You did it!” he said encouragingly, sneezing as the dog’s wagging tail sent the dust flying all around them. It burrowed itself into his lap, wanting to be closer to him than was possible. He felt a lump in his throat as his hands stroked down its sides and he could clearly feel its ribs jutting out towards the skin. He needed to get this dog to a vet immediately, but he didn’t have the heart to get up, now that the dog had settled down so comfortably, so he stayed put.
It was odd how such a little thing could change so much. The house was still a mess of grime and mould and dust, the floorboards creaked, and the room was in near complete darkness now that the torch lay on the floor next to him. There was still a murderer in the house. Most likely. And yet, Kent felt calm knowing he was providing a neglected dog with much needed affection.
He barely realised how much time had passed until a frazzled Chandler shone a light into the room and called out:
“Kent?”
“I’m in here,” Kent called back, as he saw his partner rush in, face weary from stress and worry.
“Kent!” He called out, obvious relief in his voice, as he beelined towards Kent. The dog jumped out of Kent’s arms and backed up at this sudden commotion, and Kent barely registered as he was pulled up into a tight hug, his attention focused on the dog’s wellbeing.
“Kent! I thought you- When you never came, I-“ Chandler breathed out, and Kent felt a stab of guilt. He’d been so preoccupied with the dog that he’d forgotten to inform the others of his whereabouts. He wrapped his arms around Chandler.
“I’m sorry.”
“What on earth were you doing?” Chandler asked. He sounded angry, but Kent knew it came from a place of concern, so it didn’t affect him.
“You nearly gave his nibs a heart attack. Did you get lost in this maze of a house?” Miles, who had been right behind Chandler, chimed in.
“No, I- There’s a dog,” Kent pulled away to gesture in the direction of the dog. Miles’ flashlight soon lit up the dog who stood uneasily stepping from paw to paw as it had backed up against the wall.
“A dog?” Chandler asked dumbfounded.
“Yeah, it was tied up. It’s been starved and hurt. I couldn’t leave it here,” Kent explained.
“A dog,” Chandler said once more. He huffed out a laugh. “Of course.”
He hugged Kent close again, as if he was scared, he’d vanish if he let go. He looked like he’d kiss him if they weren’t on the job and covered in old murder house muck.
“Alright, glad we’ve found you, but next time you want to play pet rescue, tell us first, will you?” Miles said.
“Of course, Skip.”
“Let’s get a move on. We’ve got another mess on our hands to clean up.” Miles turned around and Kent looked up at Chandler with furrowed brows.
Chandler’s weary expression was back. “We had him. We were moving him towards the car when he tore himself free with such a force that he- the furniture collapsed on top of him.” Chandler was pained. Another murderer he failed to bring to justice, and it took all of Kent’s willpower not to reply with a simple satisfied: “Good.”
Normally he tried to push that side of him, that ugly vengeful side, that would gleefully revel in cruel people’s undoing, far far down, but this time it bubbled right underneath the surface. He thought of the dog, and he rejoiced that it had been avenged.
He decided he couldn’t trust his voice and simply held Chandler.
After a moment Chandler seemed to have collected himself. He straightened himself and his tie and turned around to leave with a motion for Kent to follow him.
“Oh Jo- Sir,” Kent said urgently. Chandler turned around, a crease between his brows.
“What about the dog?”
Chandler’s eyes darted towards the corner where the dog was nothing but a dark shape at the moment.
“We should call rspca,” he decided.
“Actually-“ Kent took a step forward. “Normally they appreciate it if you have the opportunity to do something yourself, if you would, since they have their hands full.”
Chandler paused. “Alright, we’ll get a uniform to take it to the vet then.”
“But-“ Chandler was stopped once more. “I was hoping I could take it.”
“We need you for this, Kent,” Chandler said.
“Please, can’t you live without me for that long?” Kent said, stepping forward and grabbing Chandler’s lapels.
“What’s with you-“ Chandler began, but recalled how much of a dog lover his partner was and relented. He kissed Kent on the forehead. “Alright, you can take it to the vet. See if it’s okay.”
“Thank you,” Kent said, his grin evident in his voice.
*
The dog trusted him to lead it, first to the car and then to the vet. The more time he spent with it, the more attached he grew to it, and before he’d reached the vet, he’d named the black and brown dog, Toffee.
The urgent nature of the case made it so the vet moved some routine appointments around to make time for Kent and Toffee.
Kent entered the vet cautious of there being other pets about, as he walked in with his unleashed dog, but there were none. The woman behind the desk, a young shorthaired woman with glasses and lots of tattoos poking out from underneath her scrubs, clapped her hands together as she saw them enter.
“Oh you must be Kent and Toffee,” she said first to Kent, before moving around the counter and bending down to greet Toffee. “Hi Toffee, look at you,” her voice became more enthusiastic as Toffee began wagging its tail at her voice. “Oh, such a good dog. Let’s take a look at you.”
In its complete trust in Kent, it was easy enough to get it weighed, and checked up without too much fuss.
“It’s incredible the amount of trust it has when it’s been treated like crap.”
“Dogs are amazing creatures. You said he had been tied up with a prong collar around his neck?”
“Yeah, and there was no food or water to be seen.”
“It looks like it,” she said still poking about checking the dog who leant up against Kent for support and comfort. “Alright, now comes the not so nice part,” she warned before going to check the wounds around Toffee’s neck.
He moved about when it became uncomfortable and she drew back shortly after, praising him for being so good. She turned to Kent and told him that it had left puncture wounds, so they wouldn’t be able to close it surgically for risk of infection, but they’d treat it and apply a protective bandage, and he’d receive oral antiobiotics. Afterwards he was instructed to administer the medications as prescribed and to periodically clean the wounds.
While she told him this, and afterwards as she gave him instructions on how to feed Toffee while nursing him back to health – a small meal every 6 hours of highly digestible puppy food along with certain supplements – and reassured that his dog’s recovery and weight gain should be evident in a short period of time, Kent didn’t contradict her to say that he’d just brought it in. He couldn’t. The dog was in his heart, and while acquiring a pet was not his decision alone to make, there was no way he could make any other choice, so he took great note of every advice the vet gave him on how to care for a dog that might have been traumatised by its experiences and bought supplies for Toffee out of pocket to bring home with him.
The vet reassured him that besides the wounds and the malnutrition there was nothing wrong with Toffee. She suspected that he was a mix between a rottweiler and a golden retriever looking at his brown and black fur along with his long fur, soft and shining now that she’d taken care of it.
“Thank you so much for all of your help,” Kent said, once he was paying at the desk. He’d just registered Toffee, who was sound asleep at his feet, as his.
“Of course. He deserves all the best. Please take good care of him. I’m sure he’ll be right as rain in no time,” she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to look down at the exhausted dog.
“I will,” Kent said with as much sincerity and solemnity as a knight taking a vow. He bent down to gently shake Toffee awake. He woke up and yawned loudly, before getting to his feet. He was no more than a big puppy, and his big feet carried him clumsily across the floor.
Kent’s heart burned brightly looking down at the young dog. He’d never felt such adoration for another living being before, and he’d been pining after Chandler for years before they’d gotten together, so it wasn’t like he was a stranger to it.
He tried to keep the thought of Chandler at bay. He knew Chandler didn’t want a pet. He’d brought up the topic before on several occasions and had respected his partner’s boundaries, but this was different. He couldn’t abandon Toffee. He simply couldn’t.
*
Once home, he set up a quiet corner for Toffee to have on his own, gave him his first meal, and watched him fall asleep. It wasn’t long after he’d fallen asleep that Kent followed suit, not realising how much the day’s events had drained him.
He woke up to the sound of the front door opening. He listened contently to the sounds of Chandler shuffling out of his outerwear and tiptoeing into the dark room.
“Emerson?” Chandler asked.
“Mhm,” Kent mumbled in reply.
“What are you doing here in the da…ark?” Chandler paused. He’d turned on the light and was staring at Toffee who in turn was staring back at him. “You brought the dog home?”
“Oh yeah, he’s- I mean I brought him in.”
“Right,” Chandler was still having a staring contest with the dog. Kent got up from the couch and knelt beside Toffee to ease the tension, knowing that the prolonged eye contact could lead to trouble. Toffee immediately flopped over at a single scratch behind the ear and demanded belly rubs.
“I just- I thought you were taking it to a shelter or something,” Chandler continued.
“He needs to recover after what he’s been through, don’t you, Toffee?” Kent said scratching faster.
“Toffee? You can’t go around giving it names. You’ll grow too attached to it.”
Kent stopped scratching and was met with a petulant whine until he hesitantly started again. “Well, the thing is, I’ve already registered him as my dog.”
“You- without- Emerson, we live together! We’ve talked about this before. We can’t have a dog with our lifestyle.”
“I know, but I couldn’t leave him. Look how much he trusts me already. He needs me,” Kent replied. “At least until he’s well,” he added, knowing that it would ease the tension if his demands were smaller. He knew in his heart he wouldn’t be able to give it up afterwards, but that was a problem for a later time.
Chandler made a noise, and Kent glanced up at him to see him clearly defeated.
“Alright, we’ll keep him till he’s better.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for not consulting you first,” Kent got to his feet and walked over to kiss Chandler. A second later he felt Toffee press himself in between them looking for attention. Chandler gave him a tight-lipped smile but didn’t say anything more against the dog and they continued on their day.
*
The next day at work was a mess as it had been so many times before when their suspect had died. Between the press, the paperwork and higher ups, Chandler grew more and more stressed with each passing hour of the day.
The team did their best to help him and alleviate his stress, but there was only so much they could do, and the news of Kent’s new dog became the general topic of the day, although Kent tended to quiet it down whenever Chandler was present.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Mansell asked.
“He’s a boy.”
“What kind of breed?” asked Riley.
“I think it’s a mix between a rottweiler and a golden retriever.”
“Oh cute. I have to come over and see him sometime.”
“You’re very welcome to,” Kent smiled.
“A rottweiler? I bet he’s got a fierce name then,” Mansell commented.
“Well, I named him.”
“So you’re saying you gave him a lame name?”
“It’s not lame!” Kent protested.
“What is it?” Riley asked.
“Toffee.”
“For a rottweiler?” Mansell sounded disappointed.
“Well, he’s also part golden retriever,” Riley reasoned.
“But a rottweiler?” Mansell complained.
“He’s called Toffee cause he’s tough and sweet. It’s got nothing to do with his breed!” Kent raised his voice in defence of his dog.
“Right right,” Mansell lifted his hands in defeat.
“Well I think it’s a lovely name.”
“Thanks, Riley.”
“So, what does Chandler think about it? I thought you mentioned he didn’t want a dog,” Mansell asked, at which point Kent decided it was time to get back to work in a not very subtle way.
*
Kent knew it would be a challenge to get Chandler over on his side. His mind had been circling solutions to their situation all day, hoping he’d be able to find a good compromise for them both.
If only Chandler could see that the dog would be no trouble, he was sure to come around to it. Kent glanced over at Chandler who was driving the car. They were driving in silence, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Kent knew that Chandler needed some quiet time to gather his thoughts and wind down after the long day, and he didn’t mind people watching as they snailed their way through London’s streets.
He nipped to the shop while Chandler stayed in the car and with that they continued on home.
“I think I’m going to bed early today,” Chandler just about managed to say before freezing in front of Kent in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” Kent asked anxiously. Had something happened to Toffee?
“Look at what that dog has done!” Chandler raised his voice and sent Kent a sharp glare. He quickly closed the door and entered the living room, where Chandler’s fine light grey sofa has been scratched and bitten open and all the pillow fluff had been scattered about the room as if a bomb had gone off.
“Toffee…” Kent said in a voice that was disappointed but not too harsh.
“Is that all? He ruins our property and you lightly chide him?”
Kent was already knelt down, petting Toffee’s chest as he pressed himself closely up against him.
“Well, he won’t know what I’m scolding him for. Besides, it’s my fault. I didn’t take into account that he might do such a thing while we were away.”
“This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me say we can’t have a dog. We’re going to be away. A lot. Are we gonna buy a new sofa every time? Do you know how expensive it was?”
“I’ll pay for the sofa,” Kent said with a roll of his eyes.
“You know that’s not the problem. We can’t have a dog who can’t handle being alone! We shouldn’t have a dog at all!” Chandler was raising his voice in frustration, as he walked closer to the mess of the sofa, when Toffee backed up, fur bristling and a low growl rumbling in his throat. Chandler froze midstep.
“Is he growling at me?” He asked perturbed. Kent could feel his ill will towards the dog growing, and it only made him more protective of him.
“I think a large man raising his voice might remind him of his trauma,” Kent explained.
“Oh really? So now it not only destroys our furniture but has potential anger issues?” Chandler’s voice was still loud, and Toffee’s growl persisted, so Kent turned to the dog to calm it.
“Shh, take it easy, Toffee. It’s okay, yeah, good boy,” he said, petting him to calm him down. His growling soon faded to distressed panting.
“Yes, thanks for addressing my concerns. No, I don’t feel annoyed, as you ignore me in favour of an angry, destructive dog you’ve known for a day,” Chandler scoffed.
Knowing that Toffee was sensitive to anger, Kent responded cooly: “Yes, sorry for prioritising a traumatised puppy over my grown partner. My bad for thinking you might have been able to respond more reasonably to a situation than a dog. That’s on me, I guess.”
Chandler rubbed his hand tiredly across his face.
“Fine, you want to talk reason. Tell me, how are you going to prevent this thing from happening again tomorrow? Or do you think it’s reasonable that I have to put up with my property being destroyed day after day?”
“I’ll take my vacation,” Kent answered simply.
“You- now?”
“Yes. I can be with him, so he won’t miss me and destroy anything. I can ease him into normal life and train him with some much needed structure.”
When Chandler didn’t respond right away, Kent smiled. “You can’t come up with a reason why that wouldn’t work, can you?”
“I still think you should take him to a shelter,” Chandler muttered.
“I can’t,” Kent walked over and embraced Chandler tenderly. “You know I can’t. I know I haven’t known him for a long time, but he’s taken over my heart. I can’t abandon him.”
“I wasn’t expecting competition,” Chandler huffed, putting his head heavily down on Kent’s shoulder with a tired sigh.
“I never meant to disrespect your boundaries, but this is an exceptional situation. Please let me see if it works?”
“Yes. We’ll see if it works,” he gave him a tired smile before retiring to the bedroom. Kent looked back at Toffee who was busy being the cutest dog he’d ever seen.
“You’ve really made a mess of it,” he told the dog in his best cheery voice before he started on the clean-up.
*
It was easy to settle into a routine with Toffee. He’d give him attention when he wanted and leave him alone when he didn’t – although the former was much more frequent than the latter. He’d give him food 4 times a day and walk him twice making sure to introduce him to new things. He was slow to trust other dogs and humans, but with every positive experience his fearful behaviours lessened.
Where he’d been very jumpy on the first couple of walks, he’d now show much less signs of distress, lessened to some nervous panting or yawning at times, and where he’d be whining if he didn’t have sight on Kent at all times, he was at least able to relax so long as he heard that Kent was around.
It wasn’t perfect but it was progress.
One thing he didn’t seem able to fix was Toffee’s ability to sleep. He would very rarely sleep if he wasn’t in the same room as Kent, seemingly needing to know that he was there to watch over him as he slept. Kent settled himself on the sofa, that he’d had replaced, nightly with eyes fondly looking over the rising and falling chest of the soft creature who trusted him so completely, and if Chandler grew less talkative with every night they spend apart, Kent pretended not to be affected by it.
One day, a man had yelled loudly from a car on the street, and Toffee had cowered and growled and been generally anxious for the entire rest of the day. Kent wasn’t a stranger to recovery and knew that it didn’t have to be linear, but he still cursed the man in the street, and tried to figure out how he’d be able to avoid angry men in the streets of London in the future. He laughed to himself. Right, that was a question he’d asked himself all of life, and he still didn’t have an answer for it.
He sat down next to Toffee in his dog bed. Chandler had made it clear he didn’t want Toffee on the furniture, and Kent respected that. He knew that Chandler had already gone way out of his comfort zone to accept the dog, and there was no need to increase the distance it had brought between them.
Toffee draped himself across Kent’s lap, his warm and soft body acting as a blanket. At Kent’s proximity and gentle pets his anxious energy from the day quickly faded and his pants turned to fast breaths through the nose until they became slow and steady breaths as he fell asleep.
Kent smiled down at the dog, his fingers twisting rhythmically through the soft fur. He was happy like this, but it was soured knowing that it was the cause of Chandler’s hurt. He wished they could all just be happy together.
*
Chandler had thought about it. He’d thought about it a lot. He knew how much the dog meant to Kent, but he just couldn’t see how it would work with their job and with the dog needing extra special care after what it had been through.
Kent himself could look as much like a hurt puppy as the dog when he wanted to and it was hard not to give into his every wish, but he had to be realistic. That was what he told himself, but he knew part of him just wanted things to be a certain way. Relationships were about compromise. He knew that, and Kent had given up a lot to accommodate him and his peculiarities. He’d wanted a dog for as long as Chandler could remember, and he couldn’t deny that a dog that had bonded so quickly and intensely with Kent would be very hard for Kent to part with.
He wanted it to work, didn’t he? If it just worked, then Kent would be happier, and wasn’t that his number 1 priority in life?
Then why did he feel such resentment when night after night Kent chose the dog above him?
Kent was right. He was supposed to be more reasonable than a dog, and if something bothered him, he should voice it. Kent wasn’t a mind reader. Communication was key, but the last couple of times he’d voiced his concerns about the dog, Kent had grown defensive, and Chandler had stumbled upon his words and said things he wasn’t proud of. Things he didn’t mean as harshly as he said them, so communication seemed out of the question.
He could only watch from a distance, and with slight pride and slight regret, see that the dog was improving Kent’s life. The anger issues Kent had dealt with for a while now seemed to be healing the more patience and kindness he showed the dog, and the more affection he was given in return. With each day he seemed more and more like the bright-eyed young Kent, Chandler had known from the beginning, and likewise the dog was thriving in Kent’s company. It became calmer, healthier and happier, and Chandler would be a fiend if he were to pull them apart, so how could he voice his own needs without letting the sticky resentment of the dog cling to his words.
He resigned himself to another day of silently living side by side with Kent, as he opened the front door. It was after all preferable to them bickering.
The light was on, but the house was completely quiet. Kent had talked about his routines, and he knew they weren’t supposed to be out, so the silence puzzled him, until he entered the living room and found Kent asleep in the dog bed next to the soft ball of fur that was his dog.
It was such a cute image that Chandler couldn’t help but take a picture of them on his phone. He quietly made himself some food and went to bed early with a book so as to not wake them.
Despite the lack of Kent beside him, Chandler had the first restful sleep he’d had in a while. He woke up still thinking about the photo, he’d taken and entered the living room with a smile on his face.
“Good morning,” he told Kent who at this point had relocated to the sofa.
“Good morning,” Kent replied, happily surprised at Chandler’s joyful tone.
“Did you have a nice sleep?” Chandler asked, smiling brightly.
“I- did- what’s with that grin?” Kent laughed, knowing something was up.
Chandler had brought up the photo on his phone and turned it around. “What would people say if they knew my partner had to sleep in the dog bed?”
Kent leant in closer to take a better look at the photo.
“I found you like this last night. It was too cute not to immortalise.”
Kent blushed as if it was the first time he’d been complimented by Chandler. He ducked his head in embarrassment.
“You’re too cute,” he mumbled into his chest. He gasped when he felt Chandler’s lips on his shoulder. They travelled periodically around his neck up his cheek and onto his lips and when he pulled away, Kent was red all the way down his chest.
“I’ve missed that!” Chandler grinned.
“Me too,” Kent said, rushing to kiss Chandler again. He pulled him down until he was sitting halfway on top of him on the sofa.
Toffee seeing the commotion decided he wanted to be part of it and jumped on top of them both, tail waggling.
“Oh no, Toffee- that’s not- you shouldn’t-“ Kent said trying to gently get Toffee down from the furniture, but Chandler shook his head. “What?”
“It’s- he can stay. Do you think he’ll let me pet him?”
“Yes!” Kent said too loudly, unable to mask his enthusiasm. He was smiling from ear to ear as Chandler gingerly reached a hand towards Toffee’s dark fur. The dog, already used to being around Chandler even though they hadn’t interacted much, was more than happy to add a new person as professional petter, and rolled over Kent, who grunted in pain as the heavy but somehow still bony dog dug into his stomach.
Chandler moved over so he was next to Kent and Toffee would have to move along with him to get pets. This resulted in the three of them lying next to each other on the sofa. Chandler and Kent in an embrace with Toffee happily nestled in the space between them.
A calm fell upon them as Toffee started snoring gently, and in the early morning, lying warm and soft on the sofa, Chandler understood Kent’s love, and in turn loved him even more.