Work Text:
A car enters a gated community.
It was a neighbourhood that not many people lived in, or really had the chance to. The houses were far from small or dainty or cheap, and people weren’t usually seen driving in anything less than a sports car or a brand-new SUV.
As such, a relatively nice car pulls into the driveway of a relatively nice home. The driver gets out, grabs his house keys and unlocks the door, only leaving them in the keyhole so he could run back to the car and pick up the groceries he had just bought. Jack never thought he’d get his driver’s license, but after the end of high school and the beginning of the hunt for a job, it became a necessity. As it turned out, it wasn’t as scary as he initially thought.
After a few round trips from the car to the kitchen, all the groceries made their way into the house. Jack would have looked back for a few seconds to admire the peace in the neighbourhood, but his tired arms and legs begged him otherwise. He closed the front door and locked it behind him. He wished he could go upstairs to his beloved computer and decompress just for ten minutes, but considering he had previously forgotten to go grocery shopping and it was past five o’clock at this point, he needed to start dinner already. A necessary evil.
Jack only went grocery shopping once a week, and when he bought, he bought in bulk. It was expensive, sure, but money thankfully wasn’t a problem for him. After hauling everything inside, he’d put everything where it needed to go, and then wrote down recipes for the week, with Fridays being a cheat day to order takeaway or make something that isn’t really complicated or “healthy”. It was his perfect little schedule that not only kept his mind in check, but made sure he was eating healthier and being productive for the day.
As he was putting the last of the groceries away, the rest being set aside for tonight’s dinner, he caught the glimmer of the wedding ring on his finger under the light of the window before the sink. He smiled as the memories came flooding in.
To say Rusty was a great guy was an understatement. Somebody who you’d known for most of your life would either be pretty good or pretty bad, and Jack strongly leaned toward the former. The picture wasn’t as vivid as it might have been, but he still remembered being with him in Calypso’s school. He remembered dust-offs, playdates, sleepovers, voices cracking, studying with him, rides in the car once he got his license, and then throwing their caps together. They’d basically lived their whole lives together.
They were both fourteen when they made it official. He still remembers the first date like it was last week. Somebody who he considered a longtime friend, somebody he lost sleep over, somebody he sketched in his journal or ignored his teachers for was now his partner. Then, the years began to pass them by.
And now they were married?
It still hadn’t been a full year, but the prior friendship, relationship and engagement made it feel like an eternity. Conversely, things began to move rather quickly once school ended for both of them, and especially so for Rusty. Recognition from the phys-ed teachers for his excellence in cricket had everyone talking about him - nobody could imagine a world where Rusty wasn’t a famous cricket player. By the time school was done, managers and agents were already scouting him, and it was only a matter of if he was going to university that he would be signed to a team. Of course, to pursue sports, he skipped out on it.
Jack loved that Rusty was able to pursue something he was really passionate about. But the worst part was when his boyfriend would play in cricket leagues. If he couldn’t go in support, Rusty would be gone for weeks, sometimes months, and although he’d always promise to call every night, it wasn’t the same. Their relationship became more tight-knit that way; Rusty had promised to make extra special time for him.
On their tenth anniversary to the day, Rusty popped the question. Jack had figured it out by the evening, seeing as his boyfriend was taking him to all his favourite spots and, at this point, it was more a question of “when” than “if”. After six months of basking in the delight of calling each other their fiancés, they had the wedding at a beautifully expensive venue. Neither of them would ever forget it; Rusty took advantage of his sports money and made extra sure everything was pristine; Jack was only happy that everybody who was invited came and that there was limited press. He saw Bluey, her dad, Mackenzie, Chloe, Indy, his family and Rusty’s, among countless people he’d never met but Rusty knew in the sports industry. And none of them had ever looked better. It was perfect.
Jack Russell-Kelpie had a nice ring to it, too.
About four months after looking for a house and packing loads of stuff, they finally moved to where they both live now. Ever since then, life had been relatively quiet. Since it was a private neighbourhood, nobody could just drop by their house on a whim, which meant Jack saw his friends and family less. But such had been the case since graduation, and there was always the internet, so it wasn't terrible.
Jack had a loving husband, a beautiful home and was financially stable. This was the life, and he was okay with that.
Jack began to run the sink to wash vegetables. As cooking was usually a timely process, he had lots of time to think; his brain wouldn't ever slow down. Normally, he'd think about a song stuck in his head all day or watching his husband on television or scrolling through social media just to see how many new followers he'd gained since last Thursday.
Today was a little different. While at the supermarket, he'd been recognized. After guitar lessons with Bandit and pursuing music courses in high school, he'd made something of a name for himself. He loved being recognized, talking with people who knew his accomplishments; it's why he wouldn't go out without a pen in hand. It was almost second nature. And although he wasn't the only jack russell terrier in Brisbane, not many of them had his fur pattern or hair as long as his.
Of course, Rusty was his claim to fame, and it wasn't uncommon for people to recognize Jack as "Rusty Kelpie's husband". He knew this - there was no use in being bitter or upset that he wasn't as famous, it was just a fact.
But one thing set him off that he hadn't been able to get off his mind.
The young dog was obviously a bit shy knowing he was walking up to a celebrity in a grocery store, but the bravery was no small feat. Jack put on his friendliest face and said "hi" to the kid and his mother, and noted that the boy's hat was of the team his husband played on. After a quick photo and a bit of encouragement from his mum, he took it off and held the brim up to Jack's face.
"Can you sign my hat with Mr. Kelpie's name?"
…
Jack turned on the top left burner as he settled on it a pot with water, already waiting for it to boil.
The kid obviously meant no ill will, but there was something about it that seemed… off. The thought plagued his mind; children had a weird way of shaking people to their core and opening wounds people didn’t want to acknowledge.
Am I really okay with it?
He put the thought on hold for a second while the water reached boiling temperature, grabbed scissors to cut open the pasta package, and dumped about half of the dry noodles into the water. Tonight was carbonara night.
As he absentmindedly stirred with a wooden spoon - that he was sure to be clean because he cleaned it himself just last night - his mind began working again.
He knows he shouldn’t let it get to him too much, but it would still make him think. He would never deny that his life was good, but he never thought it would take him here either. Despite all the talks and rumours during his high school years about how famous Rusty would be, he never seemed worried about it affecting him, nor had he anticipated anything to change about their relationship. He and his group of friends were fine too, but if they ever became famous, then he just assumed all he’d get were bragging rights. Jack expected to live a quiet life with a partner that played sports as a hobby; never could he have predicted to be famous, let alone married by twenty-five to, basically, a country-wide cricket star.
…
Is it even right to really call it “fame”? To anyone else, Rusty was the famous one, not him. But nobody could deny that Jack’s life had changed, too. Where would he be without Rusty? Probably not in this house, with that car, or that expensive computer upstairs, or that spacious backyard outside, or in this neighbourhood altogether.
And then another thought popped in Jack’s head: Do I have individuality?
It seemed silly, but the more thought Jack put into it, the more sense came out of it. After their wedding, Jack went from being a run-of-the-mill musician to the official spouse of Rusty Kelpie. He was associated with him in everything, at events, gatherings, interviews, press releases, anything he could think of, and it soon became impossible to go about his day without mention of his husband, cricket or sports in general.
Jack had aspirations of his own, too. Bandit always encouraged him to pursue music, then sports after he learned that he and Rusty were dating. But now it felt like Jack couldn’t have any of it without his husband, especially in the media.
A sizzle on the induction stove immediately snapped Jack out of his thoughts, realizing that he had been stirring a bit too aggressively. Thankfully, he hadn’t burned himself, otherwise Rusty would be all over him when he got back. He also noticed that it had been about ten minutes, which was perfect timing. He turned off the burner and put a colander in the sink, emptying the pot.
Jack then took a cast iron pan to the top right burner and lightly doused it in olive oil, hastily chopping bacon and separating yolks from eggs because he forgot to do it earlier while the pasta was boiling. He wasn’t too worried, though; he’d been cooking for a few years at this point, and knew that it was better to trust himself than strictly follow a recipe he’d found online. Once the pan was hot enough, the bacon went in, and Jack began grating the cheese for the sauce. He wasn’t going to let himself sink in his thoughts any deeper, but it was boring to be home alone, cooking in complete silence. Businesspeople and other celebrities weren’t the type to have children, so the neighbourhood was most often quiet. And if he had time, he would have gone to put on some music or a television show in the background.
Instead, Jack tried looking back on some more memories. He remembered when Rusty had first caught the attention of the media. He never imagined him or himself being the types of people to be “famous” on the internet; he could always imagine what it was like for people who fit the criteria but never actually thought it would happen to him or his husband.
It was fun, in some demented way, to see himself become a rumour. The one thing social media loved to do was ask questions. Who would blame anyone for asking if Rusty Kelpie was single? Jack chuckled to himself, blushing just a tiny bit.
One thing he found amusing was that everybody assumed Rusty’s alleged partner was a girl. Nobody except for teenagers with parasocial relationships had any suspicion that Rusty might not be straight. He supposed that was to be expected in the sports world, but it still dumbfounded him quite a bit. For what it was worth, Jack would literally sit in the wives’ box to come to a game his husband was playing in. But when they announced the engagement, it was like the cricket world went up in flames. And he will never forget the satisfaction of seeing hundreds of comments shocked that Rusty Kelpie was engaged to a man.
Most of them were laughable, things that wouldn’t affect either of them and they could live the rest of their lives without:
”I will not be supporting Kelpie anymore!”
“I’m conservative, but I’m happy for the two of them.”
“He needs to find God!”
But the weirdest comments usually came from the people he’d expect the most support from: his own community.
”I wonder who the man is in the relationship… ;)”
“I’d be a malewife for Rusty Kelpie.”
“Imagine how nice it’d be to cook and clean for Kelpie…”
If Jack had learned anything from reality television, it’d be to ignore those kinds of comments, but today seemed like one of those days. Still warm, he dumped the pasta in with the sizzling bacon, and soon followed the carbonara sauce, slowly mixing in some leftover pasta water. Once that was done, he let it simmer, then went over to the island where the packaged pork chops were sitting.
In doing this, he made one realization: he is the only one in the house who cooks. Taking a quick glance at the wooden spoon still left in the simmering side dish, he’s also the only one who cleans.
Jack considered himself a pretty masculine guy, the epitome of a bloke. Blokes who went out and worked for a living, only to come home and relax or do things begrudgingly because their partners told them to. Blokes who didn’t really cook, and if they did, it was usually limited to just searing an assortment of things on their barbecues. Blokes who were masculine, but… in touch with their feelings… sometimes? And blokes who… compromised their sense of self for their… husbands?
Oh, who am I kidding, Jack thought. By the time he was wed, he had already left his job - not like it would have compared to the money Rusty made; his husband probably made more in a few days than he would in a month. He wasn’t told to do things by anyone, because he practically lived alone when Rusty was with his team. If Rusty did tell him to do something, it wouldn’t ever be something more than asking for a backrub. All the “masculine” manual labour was done by tradies. At least Jack picked up cooking by himself, and he was good at it, and he liked doing it… but he only picked it up because Rusty was too busy to cook for himself. Fridays were supposed to be their cheat days, but if Jack was too tired to cook or just didn’t want to, then they would order takeaway any day of the week. His new computer, sound system, DAW, recording equipment and soundproofing in the guest bedroom were all happily paid for by his husband. Jack used to have aspirations of music schools and universities he would have liked to attend, but Rusty opting out to focus on sports kind of prompted Jack to do the same. Hell, their house was under his name.
And the worst part? Jack was fine with it. Only now was it different because everybody had something to say about it.
”Whatever happened to your post-secondary plans?” his father once asked him during a lengthy phone call. Jack was just happy to hear his dad’s voice for the first time in about a week.
Jack raided the pantry, looking through an array of spices and seasonings before finding the exact one he needed.
”You ever considered getting into sports too?” Rusty’s older brother, Digger, once asked at a family event. His brother-in-law was one of the nicest dogs he’d known, and he knew there was nothing behind it, but that unfortunately didn’t change much about what was said.
Jack took the dry rub he really liked and rubbed it onto the pork, cracking salt and pepper to taste.
”Marriage might be legally binding, but that doesn’t mean Rusty owns you or anything. Don’t lose yourself, alright, Jack?” Bluey told him at their wedding, although she may have been drinking if it wasn’t obvious from the way her border collie boyfriend quickly pulled her aside.
That last one hurt a little extra. Jack still loved Rusty more than anything in the world, and there were many things about their marriage that he would never change, but Jack said it best himself: he never imagined himself becoming “famous”.
…Sorry, Bluey.
As Jack moved on to the second, slightly larger chop - he picked the smaller one for himself because Rusty had a bigger appetite and was also literally bigger than him - he heard something coming from the front door. A few seconds of delay - because, you know, rich and famous - then a red kelpie appeared in the kitchen, pleasant smells filling his nose.
Speak of the devil.
“Dinner on the go?” Rusty asked, trying to show affection but getting rejected because Jack wasn’t trying to put dry rub on his husband. He did get a peck on the cheek, though.
“Yeah, we’re having pork tonight,” he responded, returning his focus to the rub before washing his hands and moving the cast iron pan to the bottom left burner. “How was it?”
Rusty chuckled to himself. “It’s still going.”
“You left early?”
Guilty as charged. “Those conferences are all boring anyway; I don’t need people telling me stuff I already know.”
“You’ll be hearing about that online by tonight,” Jack stated, being met with a small hum in reply. The porkchop sizzled as Jack placed it gently in the pan.
"And dinner will be ready soon, right?"
Jack looked at the digital clock on the stove. Somehow, it was already half past six. "Yep, just searing this pork, and then the salad, and that's it." The second chop went in without a second thought.
Rusty moved behind his husband, leaning in for a hug. "Great, 'cause I'm starving…" he muttered.
Jack hummed apprehensively. It was stupid, he thought. It wasn’t like Rusty could read his mind, but he still wanted something different to happen. He’d just feel worse if he swept his thoughts under the rug. “Love?”
“Yeah?”
This was the love of his life. He never had problems telling him anything, but something told him that this was different. All he had to do was ask.
“…I need the salt.”
Maybe next time.
“Oh, right,” Rusty laughed awkwardly as he moved out of the way, letting Jack crack salt on the protein - just a way to pass the time. A quick flip, rinse and repeat.
Rusty felt the air get thick. He wasn’t one for cooking, and it was hard to pick up when sports took up most of his time. Something told him that he was more in Jack’s way than checking in on his husband. There was a small fitness room in their house; it was a nice thinking place for him. He’d like to be there right now.
His husband’s back was still turned on him. “…I’ll leave you to it then. Just call me when it’s ready, ‘kay babe? You know where I’m–”
“Rusty, wait.” Jack turned around, but not completely. The kelpie could see his face at the very least.
Neither of them had any idea what to expect, but both of them knew they wouldn’t stop talking until a problem was solved. “Yeah?” Rusty called back.
Jack was fully facing his husband now. He supposed a smile could ease the tension; or it was a product of Rusty telling him his awkward face was cute. “Do you… think I’m a masculine guy?”
Rusty looked at him for a few seconds, trying to process what he just heard. Absolutely not what he was expecting. "Of course you are," he said. It was sort of unspoken that Jack basically took care of Rusty when he wasn't doing sports, but he always assumed it was because his husband was fine with it. "Why do you ask?"
A deep sigh. "I don't know…" The pork sizzled as Jack flipped the chops. "I feel like I'm trapped in a box."
"How so?" If Rusty was put off, he was really good at hiding it.
"Everybody expects me to be one thing," Jack said. "The things I've read online… it gets to me sometimes. I cook and I clean, yeah, but… people almost expect that of me now.”
Rusty was the butch sports jock who couldn’t spend more than three days without going to the gym. But sometimes, Jack would go with him. They’d still bowl a few cricket balls occasionally, and even if Rusty was lying about how good his husband was compared to a professional, Jack was pretty good at it nonetheless. Those were things Rusty considered masculine.
He returned to his position from before Jack shooed him away. “I don’t think those make you any less masculine.”
And before Jack could come up with a counterargument, Rusty continued. “Those people don’t know you. They don’t know what they’re talking about, so you can’t listen to them.”
The terrier only felt guilty. “I know, but I just can’t help it…”
“Hey,” Rusty began leaning his head into his husband’s neck, “your feelings are valid. We’re only dogs, after all. But you’d feel a lot better by just paying it no mind.”
A grin made its way onto Jack’s face. “You’re right,” he sighed. “I guess I just want to be known as more than ‘Rusty Kelpie’s husband’. It’s a little jarring,” he began chuckling to himself, whether it was amusement or insanity, “how many creeps would throw their lives away to be in my position.”
Rusty looked a little morbid. “Yeah… If it makes you feel better, I feel trapped sometimes too.”
Jack wasn’t as surprised as he thought he would be, but it still piqued his interest.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Rusty started, “I love sports! The sports world, especially online, is just really… Straight. I know we laugh about it, but it’s weird how some people just… turn on me. Like a flip of a coin. Or when I’m not working out or playing cricket, I’m supposed to let you do everything.”
Although he would have preferred the term “heteronormative,” Jack agreed. The roughest of it usually came internationally, which made him thankful to be Australian, but a relationship like theirs wasn’t really normal anywhere.
Rusty lifted his head from his husband’s neck. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I understand how you feel.”
Jack felt the heat rush to his face, in sync with him turning off the stove and setting aside the pork chops. He almost wanted to go spend time with Rusty, to tell his empty stomach to wait at least ten minutes, but something wasn’t quite right.
As he tried to figure out what was missing, he felt Rusty’s voice rumble down his back. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Jack looked down at the red arms that were wrapped around his waist, noticing the glimmer of the wedding ring on his husband’s finger under the kitchen light. And then it came to him. “The salad!”
He tried to free himself before the arms moved on their own. “Let me help,” Rusty said, already walking to the fridge in search of lettuce. Jack was unable to move, the words not registering in his brain. But once they did, he couldn’t be happier.
After a few seconds of silence, Rusty spoke. “Uh… what am I supposed to be looking for?”
“What do you think we need for a salad?”
“Well, lettuce,” Rusty grabbed the lettuce, “cucumber,” then a cucumber, “and…” He knew what else his husband wanted him to grab, but he hesitated.
Jack walked behind him, now the one hugging his husband from behind. “Spinach and cherry tomatoes.” He could perfectly picture Rusty’s face contorting in disgust, but whatever didn’t kill him made him stronger. Nevertheless, Rusty grabbed everything and plopped them onto the island. He nudged his husband, raising his brow to let him know he was giving him his full attention.
“Can you just chop the lettuce for now?” the terrier asked, using a knife to cut the plastic wrap from the cucumber. He would cut the small vegetables, while Rusty loosely whacked the large head of lettuce, running no risk of hurting himself. Even if it was minimal help, it did the job just as well.
But then Jack noticed his husband was empty-handed. “Er, where are the-”
“Right here,” Jack pulled open the drawer in the island, revealing the large cutlery. Rusty quickly ran over to grab a knife before chopping the lettuce. He was making decent progress - at least, he was until he looked over at Jack, who had already finished cutting the cucumber and was throwing the spinach in a bowl he had set aside when he started making dinner. “How do you do that so quickly?” Rusty asked.
“Lots and lots of practice,” Jack replied. “You know I started cooking when I was, like, eighteen, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rusty blushed, “you started because I can’t cook for myself. And you were nineteen.”
Jack scoffed as he split a cherry tomato in half. “It was, like, a week after my birthday; what difference does it make?!”
His husband chuckled. “Not that much, honey.” He took a minute to look at his handiwork. “You think that’s good?”
Jack obviously didn’t think that Rusty would be terrible with a knife, but he didn’t think he’d do such a good job. “That’s great, love,” he said. “Now just toss it in the bowl.”
Watching Rusty take the bowl and toss all the elements together felt surreal to Jack. It was getting difficult to find enjoyment in cooking in the last few weeks, since it had become such a routine that Jack was growing out of it; but Rusty didn’t cook, and they couldn’t just live off takeaway for the rest of their lives. Having the love of his life not only take an interest in it, but help him along the way might have reignited the passion. He’d make a mental note to get Rusty to help - or at least watch - more often. When Rusty set the bowl back on the island, they had a perfect salad.
Jack took a step back to look at everything he and his husband had done. “I suppose dinner’s ready now.”
“I can’t wait,” Rusty was already giddy searching for the plates - the part of the kitchen he knew best. “‘Twas a labour of love,” he said, reaching over to give Jack a peck on the nose. All Jack could do was blush.
Handing a plate to his husband, they both served themselves a porkchop, a heap of carbonara, and a healthy amount of salad. While Jack went to fetch the silverware, Rusty dug through the fridge for something he probably couldn’t live without. When Jack saw what he grabbed, he scoffed.
“What?” As innocent as ever.
“A labour of love doesn’t deserve ranch dressing,” Jack said. “It’s so unhealthy! If anything, I should be offended.”
Rusty’s ears drooped by force of habit, but his smile read otherwise. “I’ll only put a little bit for you, okay, babe?”
Jack returned the smile. He knew Rusty didn’t like tomatoes - which was odd, considering he loves ketchup - so he could never blame him. “Yeah, okay.”
But before they took their plates to the dining table, Rusty brought out his phone to take a quick picture of his dinner. Jack didn’t know what to do with himself; he had no idea Rusty was that proud of it. When Rusty looked at his husband, he seemed to snap back to reality. “Oh, I guess it’s… just a reminder. Of us being romance.”
Jack giggled. “You stole that from Bluey’s dad-”
“I stole that from Bluey’s dad,” Rusty confirmed, as they both picked up their plates and went to eat, then maybe Rusty would work out or he would go and cuddle with Jack until they both fell asleep. Rusty didn’t have anything in his schedule for tomorrow, and with Jack being a stay-at-home husband, they had plenty of time to just be.
~ ~ ~
Jack was more than happy to sign anything that was given to him, but he became confused once he heard “in Mr. Kelpie’s name.” Nobody had ever requested him to forge his husband’s signature - and for good reason.
The boy’s mother seemed to take note of this and quickly stepped in. “I’m so sorry if we’re bothering you, Mr. Russell-Kelpie. I don’t know what-”
“No, don’t worry,” Jack put his palms forward; he had an idea. He took the cap straight from the (very confused) younger dog’s paws and brought out his trusty pen. “This doesn’t bother me at all,” he said, half on autopilot as he was signing the hat.
Once he gave it back to the boy, he was a little disappointed, but his mother seemed very touched. He grabbed a head of lettuce out of the fresh produce and began to make his way toward another area. “Have a wonderful day.”
“You too!” The mother said as she admired the cap for just a second longer, before scolding her son for making a celebrity uncomfortable.
Jack + Rusty Kelpie
x o x o