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In a malodorous and suffocating polluted city such as New York, treats like fudgy pops were in an oasis in a gridlocked desert. It was ambrosia resting in a dump of trash, the cream of the smoggy, rotted crop that managed to survive to this present point in time as comforts often were in New York. Sam planned to eat that particular type of Popsicle tonight, after taking a quick bath.
It wasn’t wise to leave Max alone in the apartment or office for too long. But Sam felt the grime of New York clump up his fur and he needed to wash off the sticky and grimy sheen tonight. While Sam was in the tepid pool of water, looking at a pattern of soap scum along the edges that seemed saturated in the old porcelain, the thought of fudgy pops kept popping into his head like a siren’s song as he soaked in their rickety tub.
He heard Max chewing on some mysterious object which was alarming. That and the melodious call of the fudgy pops was too much for Sam to ignore so he gave himself another quick scrub, washed off the soap and got out of the bath. He shook off the water and unplugged the drain, the water sticking around for a while because the combined fur probably caused another clog. Sam would deal with that later.
He got dressed into his pajamas when he was dry. He found Max waiting outside the bathroom, confirming the assessment that he was chewing on something. It looked like a pair of handcuffs, from the metal bits that hung out of Max’s mouth.
“Getting some more iron in your diet, little buddy?” Sam joked as he patted Max’s head and walked past him. His husband’s diet could be classified as the ninth wonder of the world.
Max followed after him and tried to talk through his full mouth but he was unsuccessful. The screech of metal against his teeth made Sam’s fur stand on end. But his mind was still focused more on fudgy pops.
“Chew your food, Max,” he absent-mindedly reminded Max.
He eventually made his way to their kitchen and opened up the freezer, a blast of freezing air hitting his face. Sam dug around in the icy tundra, his fingers going numb as he tried and failed to find the box he was looking for. Eventually his fingers hooked along a package of fudgy pops. His eyes narrowed as he lifted up the empty box.
“Sam – I mean, Max. Did you eat the rest of the fudgy pops?”
He heard Max finally swallow the metal and he impishly replied, “The ones you specifically told me not to eat? Yeah.”
Something like this was expected for Max, but Sam’s expectations getting shattered like that made him breathe air harshly out through his nose. He tossed the empty box into their overflowing trash can and shut the freezer door with a little more force than was necessary.
Some part of him piped up again that it was pointless to think that Max wouldn’t eat every treat in sight or heed his words but he was not going to indulge Max’s impishness right now or try to make a joke. With a huff he pushed past Max, his paw going against his big melon-head to get him out of the way.
“What – Hey! Sam!”
Sam ignored him and stalked to the front door, walking the short distance to their office. Max trailed after him. Sam knew this because he heard the loud thumps of his huge feet. They made the floorboards creak more than usual.
“Sam, wait! Where are you goin’?” Max called after him. “Are ya really angry?”
Sam didn’t answer, opening up the office and heading straight to his desk. He probably looked very foolish to sit there in his pajamas but he didn’t care. There was a stack of overdue paperwork on the desk so Sam started crumpling it up into one big paper wad.
He also continued to pointedly ignore Max’s chatter, still peeved. He gave Max a look when he climbed up on his desk, never shutting up. Every time Max waved his paw in front of Sam’s face to get his attention he would turn his head away, concentrating on the paper ball. Once it got too big he started on another one, like he was making a little squad of paper cadets.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Max pacing endlessly on his desk, aggravated and not knowing what to do with himself.
“Sam, at least throw one of those paper balls at me!” Max exclaimed, his arms thrown up in the air as he paced. He put his head right in front of Sam’s face and he made a short, growling noise as his paw pushed Max out of his personal space.
Sam grumbled when Max was undeterred, poking at his head. “Aw, Sam, don’t be so cross! I don’t like it when ya get so cross!”
Sam tossed one of the paper balls into the wastebasket. He turned the chair around and crossed his arms, continuing to ignore Max. Even though that was extremely difficult because this was Max.
“Are ya still mad?” Max asked, quietly. He followed it up with, “Are you mad? Don’t be mad!”
Sam bit down on the corners of his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He lightly cursed the fact that Max could always make him smile.
He heard Max’s feet thump on the desk and then he gave a long-suffering sigh. Max shook his shoulder, making Sam turn back around. Sam’s arms were still crossed as he thankfully got his urge to smile under control and he regarded Max with a neutral look.
“Okay, okay, okay, I’m gonna ruin my reputation. I am… sorry.” That last word sounded like Max was getting his teeth pulled while a fish crawled out of his throat.
Sam’s shoulders finally relaxed and he grinned as his arms opened up. “Aw, shucks, you don’t have t’ go tarnishing your reputation for me, Max.”
“It would only be for you, Sam.” Max crossed that short distance to tumble into his arms. It was a somewhat rough landing but it was one that Sam knew well.
Max seemed to get an idea as he moved from Sam’s lap and balanced on his knees, pulling at a drawer in Sam’s desk. He reached in and pulled out a box of dog treats. Sam’s tail swished rapidly at the sight.
“You like ‘em, Sam?” Max teased upon seeing his husband’s reaction. “You want treats? You want walkies after your treats?”
“Don’t patronize me, Max,” Sam said, amused. He bit down on the treat Max offered him, his foot thumping against the floor when Max reached up to scratch at his ears. Sam was a little relieved that his mouth was full of dog treats because otherwise he might let his tongue loll out of his mouth and that was supremely embarrassing.
Max was still teasing him. “You do like the treats, don’t you, Sam? You’re not mad anymore, are ya?”
“You know I only eat these ‘cause it gives me a shiny coat,” Sam said to maintain some of his dignity.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” Eventually the treats ran out and Max tossed the box onto the floor. He made himself comfortable in Sam’s lap.
Sam put his arms around him in turn. It wasn’t fudgy pops but his husband was pretty good at picking out tasty dog treats.
“By the way, Sam, I found another box of fudgy pops buried in the freezer,” Max said. “The whole thing was an ice block.”
Sam thumbed at his shoulder, swinging the chair around. “There was another one lost in there? Shoot, that’s probably been in there since the turn of the century.”
“Wanna give it to lumpy?” Max asked.
“Nah. The kid already built up immunity to the kinda food we have layin’ around here.”
Astonishingly, Max thought for a moment. “We could chuck it off an overpass and see if it bursts open onto the street.”
“Now you’re talking,” Sam said. “Should we invite the kid too?”
“What, make it some youth event?” Max scoffed. “Lumpy’s gonna bring their best friend or something?”
“You’re my best friend, Max,” Sam said no problem.
Max’s grin got a little brighter. “I know I am!”
The chair swung around more as the conversation tapered off, ramping up for another one as soon as they found another topic. Max almost chewed off one of Sam’s pajamas buttons and he flicked his nose for that. The action made a topic pop into Sam’s head, an idea that would make Max laugh.
“Think I was born an’ boxed up with fudgy pops,” Sam said, teasing. “Then ya borrowed me from the store and that was that, ya little hooligan.”
“I stole you. Borrowing means you bring it back,” Max said, holding onto the collar of his pajamas. “You think I’d ever give you back?”
Sam’s tail swished through the stale air. He unpeeled Max’s paws from his collar and had him sit properly on his lap. “You sure do know how to flatter a guy, Max.”
“’S that why you married me?”
“No, I wanted your pension benefits,” Sam said with a laugh, rich and full of love.
He tipped up Max’s chin and gave him a kiss. When they pulled back Max groused about the aftertaste of the dog treats, vowing to get better ones. Sam knew he’d get the best ones.