Work Text:
When Rose hears the tell-tale sound of claws ripping at fabric, she slams her book shut and glares at the source: a white furred wolf at her feet.
"Stop that." She says, firmly.
He whines, his bright, sea glass eyes growing wide.
"No. Do not give me those eyes."
He whines again.
"You know the ones. Stop it."
He huffs, turning his back to her as he lays out on the rug. It is an old one, hailing from an era long past. It's somehow managed to survive this long, perhaps due to the occassional cleaning it receives. Its bright hues have been dulled, and there are small tears littered all over it from age and claws—
Oh, God, he's doing it again!
"Klint van Zieks!" Rose shouts, hopping to her feet. "No! Stop it! That was a wedding present!"
He continues at it, ignoring her.
She huffs, snatching the spray bottle set on the small table next to her. Aiming it for him, Rose squeezes the trigger.
A gasp comes from him.
"You sprayed me?!"
"I told you to stop! That rug has been in my family for generations!"
"My own mate!" He wails, going to his feet. "Spraying me as if I were a common beast! Oh, the indignity!"
"You know how important that is to me!"
"All over an ugly rug! Well, fine! Have that ugly rug be the one to warm your feet!" He goes to sulk out of the room.
"You'll be back, Klint!" She calls after him. He always comes back... not that he'll admit it.
She returns to her book, but the trance of reading is broken. Her eyes keep reading the same paragraph over and over. A sigh leaves her lips as she closes it, setting it on the end table as she stands up. It is almost time for bed, anyways, she might as well prepare.
Rose leaves the library, making her way up stairs to their bedroom. All the while she keeps her eyes peeled for a beast with white fur sulking about. But no, she sees nothing.
But he'll be back. He never lets her go to bed by herself, not as long as he's close by.
Entering their room, she's greeted with the mingling smell of her perfume and his cologne. Spicy, sweet, and all around comforting. It's the smell of sleepy morning kisses and late-night cuddling as they drift off to sleep.
She sheds her clothes on the way into their connected bathroom, throwing them into a hamper for her morning self to deal with. The linoleum floor is cool underneath her feet, as the door closes behind her with a click. She reaches out to twist the faucet on for the shower, straining her ears to hear for someone scrambling into their bedroom.
But no, nothing.
Maybe I did go too far. That rug is tacky. I'm pretty sure mum pawned it off on us. Maybe even made up the whole 'passed down our family for generations', thing, too.
Her hand reaches up to feel the water's temperature, and it's perfect. She steps in, letting out a sigh as the hot water washes over her.
THUD! Something just threw itself at the bathroom door!
Instead of gasping, she smiles, shooting a glance at the door. He always comes back. She hears claws scrape at the door now, muffled pleading from behind.
Rose makes her shower quick, only taking the time to scrub her body down before emerging. She grabs one of her fluffy bathrobes to wrap around herself, and opens the bathroom door.
There he is, a white-furred wolf sitting on his haunches looking up at her with big eyes. His tail is wagging madly, too.
”Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,“ She teases, her lips curling into a smirk.
”Please, don't insult me,“ He replies. ”As if I would let a lesser creature drag me anywhere.“
”Are you done sulking now? My bed—“
”Our bed,“ He corrects.
”Oh, I was thinking of just sleeping by myself tonight, and lock you out because you've been a bad boy.“
”...Alone?“ He whimpers. ”But you'll be cold.”
“I have blankets.”
”But I'm your favorite blanket.“
”And you've been bad.“ She says with a shrug. “I have some dirty laundry you can sleep on for the ni—”
“I'm sorry.“ His voice is low, and she raises an eyebrow.
”Hm? Could you say that again?“ Her hand cups around her ear as she leans in closer.
”I said, I'm sorry,” He speaks up. “I'll stop scratching that rug.“ He softly mumbles to himself, something about 'even if it is ugly'.
But hell, she'll take it. He's not wrong.
”Well, alright, then. I suppose you can—“
Before she can finish her sentence, he's leaping onto their bed, pressing his snout into their pillows as his tail continues to wag.
She peels back the comforter to settle into their bed, pulling it over her. Klint presses himself to her, almost on her. She reaches out to wrap her arms around him, his snout pressing against her neck. He starts to lick at it, something about how he likes the taste of her soap.
“You know, my love,” She murmurs, scratching at him with her nails. “Perhaps... I could be persuaded to put that old rug into storage and we could get a new one.“
”So you agree that it's tacky!“
”Maybe,“ She hums. ”It isn't like my parents will come over for a surprise visit and notice it's gone.“
”Shh, don't jinx it, Rosie. That's the last thing we need.“
"Rosie! What on Earth happened to that rug I gave you?!"
Rose blinks at her mother, tilting her head in confusion.
"What rug?"
"Don't be coy with me! I remember the thing clearly! It was right here!"
"I would remember such a thing being in my house," Klint says, stretching his long legs out as he takes a sip of his tea. His teeth are still sharp and fanged, but other than that, there is no lingering sign of the wolf he was last night.
"Mother, are you feeling well?"