Work Text:
It was a Friday morning when Petey received the text.
He hadn’t been expecting anything unusual—just another update about Li’l Petey’s plans, or maybe one of those clumsy, misspelled messages Dogman liked to send him. The dog was notoriously bad at texting. No matter how many times Petey told him to use spell check, Dogman still managed to mangle every other word.
But the message he got this time was different. It was mostly legible, for one thing. That’s how Petey knew something was up.
"Dear Petey. I was hoping if your not to busi, we could go out later tonite. My treet."
He read it again. Then once more, just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Go out? Dogman wanted to go out? Petey’s eyes narrowed as he re-read the message, catching the missed letters and the awkward phrasing. Typical Dogman, always rushing through things, even when it came to sending texts. But even more perplexing was the fact that he’d asked to hang out outside their usual co-parenting routine.
Why? What could Dogman possibly want from him, besides the usual drop-offs and pick-ups for Li’l Petey? He sat down at his workbench, tapping his claws lightly on the table as he considered his response.
"Sure, did Li'l Petey pressure you into going for McDonald's again? LOL" he typed, hoping to steer the conversation back into something normal.
He hit send and waited, expecting it to take a while for Dogman to fumble through a reply, but his phone buzzed almost instantly. Petey looked down, surprised at the speed, only to be greeted by a short, hasty response.
"No. LP is at his friend's hous. I was hopin it couldd be just the two of us"
Petey’s stomach flipped. Just the two of us? Why? His claws dug into the wooden tabletop as his mind jumped to the worst conclusions. Dogman was finally going to confront him about something. His past crimes? Maybe all those times Petey had insulted him. Or, worse, maybe Dogman was secretly plotting to throw him in Cat Jail, and this was all a ruse. Ugh, he should've known better than to let his guard down around the mutt!
He was about to toss his phone aside, chalking the whole thing up to one of Dogman’s ridiculous ideas, when another text popped up.
"As a date"
";)"
Petey’s eyes widened. A date? With Dogman? Winky face????
The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the floor. He stared down at it, unable to move for a few seconds, trying to process what he'd just read. His first instinct was to believe it was a joke, or at least a mistake. After all, Dogman was notorious for sending incomprehensible texts that made no sense. This could just be another one of those, right?
But no. The words were clear. Simple, even. Dogman, with his clumsy thumbs and terrible spelling, had managed to send a message that was impossible to misinterpret.
Petey groaned, slumping back in his chair. What was he supposed to do with this?
I’ll just say yes and let it blow over, he decided, forcing himself to grab the phone again. Dogman will forget about the whole thing halfway through, and then they can pretend this never happened. He typed back quickly, keeping his response vague. "Sure. Where are we going?" He made sure to check for typos before sending it, unlike some people.
As soon as the message was sent, Petey rubbed his temples, wondering how the night had turned into such a mess already. He hadn’t even left his lab yet, and the situation was spiraling out of control.
He got up, pacing around the room as his mind tried to regain some sense of control. He wasn’t nervous—no, Petey didn’t do nervous. But still, something about the idea of going out with Dogman, of all people, was unsettling. The worst part was that he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Dogman was unpredictable. No amount of scheming or planning could prepare Petey for what the dog might do or say.
Before he realized what he was doing, Petey found himself rummaging through his closet, looking for something to wear. He pulled out his usual white shirt and blue tie, then paused, frowning at his reflection. It felt too... regular. Like he was trying too hard to act like this was just another day.
But it wasn’t just another day. Dogman had asked him on a date. As ridiculous as it sounded, Petey couldn’t ignore the fact that this was different. He had to be prepared. He needed to look like he didn’t care, but also a little bit sharp. Just in case.
After a few minutes of rifling through his wardrobe, Petey pulled out a red blazer he’d picked up at a thrift store years ago. It was bold, too bold for a casual hangout, but perfect for sending the message: I’m not taking this seriously, but I look good doing it.
Satisfied, he adjusted the blazer in the mirror, making sure everything was perfectly in place. He gave himself a quick once-over, his tail swishing behind him as he narrowed his eyes at his reflection. This is fine. You’ve got this. It’s just Dogman. You can handle Dogman.
He finally fished his phone out from between the couch cushions, checking the time. 7:00 p.m. Dogman would be there soon. His stomach gave another uncomfortable lurch as he tried to imagine what this night would look like. Dogman, in a restaurant. Probably knocking over water glasses and barking too loudly, completely oblivious to any social norms.
Petey sighed. He felt like the stupid one, somehow.
When the doorbell rang, it felt like the room itself held its breath. Petey’s ears flicked in the direction of the sound. Here we go, he thought, straightening his blazer one last time before walking to the door.
He opened it, and—somehow—wasn’t entirely surprised by what he saw. Dogman, dressed in his best attempt at formal wear. The jacket was too tight across the shoulders, and the tie was hanging slightly askew. And, of course, in his big clumsy hands, Dogman held a bouquet of mismatched flowers, their colors clashing in a way that only Dogman could have thought was appropriate for the occasion. A small bouquet of blue and orange roses...at least it looked like he bought them instead of digging them out of the dirt for once.
"You brought flowers?" Petey asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dogman’s non-existant tail wagged enthusiastically as he signed as best as he could with the bouquet in hand "Yeah! Thought you'd like 'em! You know, 'cause you’re a cat and cats like plants, right?"
Petey blinked, then sighed deeply for the 4th time that day. This is going to be a disaster.
Even so, he gently took the bouquet from the dog cop's hands and put it on top of his workbench. Hopefully it wouldn't wilt until he got a proper vase.
As they headed toward Dogman’s car—thankfully, not the cop car—Petey couldn’t help but wonder what the night held in store. He had a plan, of course. Keep it short, keep it awkward, and let Dogman figure out that this was a bad idea on his own. But despite everything, a small part of him, buried deep, felt something unfamiliar. Something similar to when the other kids at the shelter would play family and exclude him from the game because he was too mean, too rough, all sharp edges since he was Li'l Petey's age.
He adjusted his seatbelt and took one last look at the cop before decidedly ignoring the way his eyes looked at him excitedly through the rearview mirror.
While sitting in the passenger seat of Dogman's car, he couldn’t help but notice the way the dog seemed unusually focused on driving. It wasn’t that Dogman was a bad driver—well, okay, yes, he kind of was—but tonight, it felt like he was really trying. He was gripping the wheel with both hands, his eyes fixed on the road, and for once, there weren’t any reckless swerves or sudden stops. Petey glanced out the window, wishing the flutter of nerves that kept resurfacing in his stomach would go away.
The silence in the car was... weird. Usually, Dogman would be chattering away, barking and howling at everything that moved, especially if it involved squirrels or other small animals. But tonight, it was like he was holding himself back, trying not to mess up. It was, in a way, a bit endearing, but Petey wasn’t sure if that made him feel relieved or even more on edge. When it came to things like this, he suddenly didn't feel so supa smart a nymore.
Dogman’s nose twitched, and without taking his eyes off the road, he glanced over at Petey and wagged his tail gently, as if to check on him. When Petey gave him a sideways look, Dogman perked his ears and pointed a finger toward his mouth before shifting it into a clumsy imitation of eating, signaling: You hungry? His ears perked, clearly hoping for a positive reaction.
Petey sighed, then shrugged. “I’m fine,” he muttered. Then, feeling like he should contribute more to the conversation—if only to make this less awkward—he added, "I could eat"
Dogman nodded enthusiastically and signed back, "Went with Chief last week. Pizza's so big, barely fits on the plate! Thought you’d like it. You’re into practical stuff."
The cat let out a small huff at this last remark. Even in this context, Dogman’s simple, one-track thinking never failed to make things easier. Petey replied back, the smirk creeping onto his face, "That’s your idea of a date?" It was almost too easy—Dogman was like an overgrown puppy, thrilled by the simplest things. No scheming, no second-guessing, just... pizza. Of course Dogman hadn’t thought this through. He’d probably regret spending money on a date with him by the time the night was over. Petey knew he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, but hey, it wasn’t his problem.
Still, as they approached the restaurant and Dogman parked, Petey had to admit the situation wasn’t as horrible as he’d imagined. The neon sign above the door flickered, reading Tony’s Giant Pizza—exactly the kind of low-key, cheesy place Petey expected Dogman to take him. It wasn’t fine dining, but maybe it was better this way.
Dogman rushed out of the car first, opening Petey’s door with a clumsy but well-meaning flourish. With a big, eager grin, he gestured for Petey to step out. "After you!"
Petey squinted an eye, clearly unimpressed, but he stepped out of the car anyway. "Thanks," he muttered, not quite sure how to react to this strangely polite version of Dogman. He was trying too hard, but then again, so was he.
They walked into the restaurant, and the smell of fresh pizza dough and melting cheese filled the air. The place was busy, but not overwhelmingly so. Trying not to grimace at the sight of people licking their grease stained fingers, Petey followed Dogman to a booth in the back, where they sat down across from each other.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The cat stared at the menu, pretending to be engrossed in the options even though he knew he was just going to get a plain cheese pizza. It was the cheapest option. If this was going to be a waste of time, he might as well be nice and spare the poor cop's wallet, seeing as he somehow managed to survive on minimum wage this long. Dogman, on the other hand, fidgeted in his seat, tapping the tip of his calloused fingers on the table nervously.
"So," Petey finally said, breaking the silence, "what’s the real reason you wanted to do this?"
Dogman blinked, caught off guard by the direct question. He scratched his head and signed, "What do you mean?"
Petey narrowed his eyes. “You. Me. Alone. On a date. This isn’t exactly... normal. So why now?” His tone came out sharper than he intended, almost like he was hoping Dogman would just laugh and admit this was all some kind of joke. They could go back to their usual talks—about Li’l Petey, co-parenting stuff, maybe the occasional comment about the weather. That was easy. Comfortable. No awkward feelings, no need to think about whether anyone could actually like him like that. Because the idea that Dogman might want something more? That felt impossible. And terrifying.
Dogman seemed to pick up on this, which irked Petey more than he'd admit. Somehow, the dumb dog always managed to beat him at everything—well, everything except brains—but when it came to feelings, mushy stuff like this, Dogman and Li'l Petey had him outmatched by a mile. He hesitated, then signed "Wanted to try something different. We rarely talk since you moved out. Thought maybe we could do something else, just the two of us."
Petey’s ears flicked, picking up on the sincerity in Dogman’s voice. Suddenly, his freshly ironed shirt felt too tight around his neck.
"So you’re saying this is... what? An experiment?" Petey asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
Dogman's eyes opened slightly more than usual and he shook his head franctically, his hands shaking in the air. "No! No! No experiment. I just missed you, you're fun."
Petey blinked, taken aback. He didn’t know what to say to that. Fun? He wasn’t fun. At least, he didn’t think so. But Dogman was staring at him with those big, hopeful eyes, and for a moment, Petey felt his usual sarcasm falter.
"Right," he said, looking away as a faint warmth crept up his cheeks. "Well, I guess we’ll see how ‘fun’ this turns out to be."
The server arrived, and they ordered their pizzas—Petey sticking to his plain cheese, while Dogman went for a fully loaded slice with extra sausage and peppers. As they waited, the conversation fell into an easier rhythm. Dogman rambled about his latest adventures with Chief, while Petey occasionally threw in a dry remark or two, just to keep things interesting.
The pizzas arrived soon after and Dogman immediately dug in like he'd been starved for weeks before this event. The familiarity of it almost made Petey laugh. Still, as he took a bite of his plain cheese pizza, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the growing sense of comfort wouldn’t last. That, at any moment, Dogman would hit him with the real question—the one Petey had been dreading since this whole weird date idea had popped up.
Sure, Dogman was trying to be charming. He was following some unspoken script, probably picked up from a conversation with Chief about how to make dates "special." But Petey wasn’t buying it. Not really. There was no way Dogman was doing all of this just to be... romantic. This had to be about something else—Li’l Petey.
The thought gnawed at him, sharper than his appetite. Dogman was great with Li’l Petey, always had been. Too great, if Petey was being honest with himself. What if this entire evening was just a setup for the inevitable question? "Hey, Petey, mind if I keep Li’l Petey forever?" Dogman would sign it with that hopeful, innocent look in his eyes, and Petey wouldn’t be able to say no. Then, just like that, he’d be alone again.
His gaze flickered up to Dogman, who was happily chomping down on his overloaded slice, eyes half-closed in pizza bliss. The dog hadn’t noticed Petey’s growing discomfort—or if he had, he wasn’t showing it. Petey clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the pizza in front of him, but every bite felt like a lead weight in his stomach. He glanced up again, this time catching Dogman mid-gesture as he signed something about how good the pizza was, how he thought Petey would like this place, how "this is fun, right?"
Fun. Sure, this was fun. He kept using that word. But it was also temporary. That’s what Petey kept telling himself. Dogman didn’t actually want him—he wanted what Petey came with. Li’l Petey. The kid had been the glue holding them together, and once that was sorted, what else was there? Petey was already preparing himself for the blow.
The minutes stretched on, and the tension inside Petey grew unbearable. Dogman, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content, flashing those dumb smiles, signing little comments, and offering bites of his pizza with the enthusiasm of a puppy.
He's only being nice because he wants something from you. Petey’s fists curled on the table, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hands down, startling Dogman, who looked up with wide, confused eyes.
"Enough!" Petey snapped, his voice sharp and loud inside the small restaurant. His heart pounded in his chest. "Just stop, okay? Stop pretending this is anything other than what it really is."
Dogman, not for the first time that night, looked at him with concern etched in his features. "What are you talking about?"
Petey let out a bitter laugh. "You know what I mean. This whole date... this stupid pizza... You're just buttering me up to ask if you can take Li’l Petey, aren’t you? That’s all this is. You don’t actually... You can’t actually... care about me."
Dogman’s ears drooped, and for a second, Petey thought he saw a flicker of hurt cross the dog’s face. Dogman shook his head furiously, his hands moving rapidly as he signed, "No! That’s not it. I... I like you, Petey. I really do"
Petey’s heart stumbled over itself. He stared at Dogman, not sure whether to believe him or not. This couldn’t be real. "Right," he muttered, crossing his arms. "And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?"
Dogman signed quickly again, more emphatically this time. "Chief told me how to make this a good date. I wanted to do something nice for you. Not Li’l Petey—you"
Petey blinked, his arms loosening. "You… what?"
The dog looked away, warmth flooding his face and painting his fur a rich shade of red "I’ve liked you for a while. This wasn’t a game. I wanted to impress you, that’s all. I’m sorry I messed it up."
The clatter of dishes and the low hum of conversation came back into focus as Petey realized how loud he’d been. His outburst had drawn a few curious glances from the nearby tables, and a couple of patrons were openly staring at the scene. Petey’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he immediately shrank back in his seat, his tail twitching. This was the last thing he needed—public humiliation to top off the awkwardness of the night.
"I…" Petey opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. His chest felt tight, like he’d been holding his breath for far too long. He stared at a grease stain on the ground, trying to process everything. Dogman had never lied to him before. As frustrating and goofy as the cop was, he wasn’t the type to play games.
He watched as Dogman stood up, heading over to the counter to pay for their meal. The cashier looked slightly bewildered but smiled politely as Dogman handed over the cash, his polite smile to the cashier never faltering, even as it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to count the bills.
Dogman returned a moment later, giving Petey a reassuring nod. He gestured toward the door, a funny look in his eye, "Let’s go before they show me the dessert menu".
The cat rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dogman always had a way of diffusing tension, even when Petey wasn’t ready to admit it.
As they walked out of the restaurant and into the cool night air, the awkwardness between them seemed to hang in the silence.
Dogman walked a little ahead, but his ears drooped slightly, his usual boundless energy dimmed, like the night had drained some of it away. He wasn’t panting happily or bouncing around like he normally would after a meal. And while he wasn’t making a sound, there was something unspoken in the way his shoulders slumped, as if he was carrying the weight of more than just a pizza bill.
Petey followed behind, still fuming internally, but something about Dogman’s subdued mood tugged at the edges of his thoughts. He had expected Dogman to brush everything off, maybe throw in a goofy grin and sign something cheesy, but instead, he looked...defeated. As if he was the one responsible for Petey having half a panick attack at the pizza joint.
As they reached the car, Dogman fumbled for his keys, signing with one hand, "I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. It's just...I told Chief about wanting to get closer. To you." And then, he added "It's never lonely with you" Like that somehow explained everything.
Petey stole a glance at Dogman out of the corner of his eye. His heart clenched a little. That silly, droopy-eared mutt had no idea what he did to him—how he got under his skin, how much harder it was to keep his guard up whenever he was around. Petey had spent so long convincing himself that feelings like this weren’t for him, that he was better off alone, but here was Dogman, messy and persistent, making him question all of it.
“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I don’t really like being alone either. You and the kid... it’s not so bad, having you around.” He shifted uncomfortably, as if admitting that out loud was some kind of weakness. "I..."
His grip tightened on the seat, his mind racing. How do you tell someone like Dogman—someone so oblivious yet so loyal—that you might feel more than you’re ready to say out loud? That maybe his goofy grins and unwavering affection weren’t as annoying as he pretended they were. That maybe they were the reason he’d started looking forward to those simple 'good mornings' and dumb small talk everytime he came to pick up Li'l Petey, even if he didn’t understand them fully.
Petey sighed, running a hand through his fur. This was new territory for both of them. He was used to being guarded, pushing everyone away before they had the chance to know too much, too deep. But here was Dogman, standing in front of him, goofy and sweet and frustratingly earnest, and he wasn’t walking away. He never had, no matter how many times Petey had snapped or growled or tried to shut him out.
“Look,” Petey muttered, leaning against the car door. “I’m not good at...this. Whatever this is. I’ve been on my own for a long time, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it. So if you’re looking for someone to make everything easy and happy, that’s not me.”
Dogman tilted his head, his eyes full of the quiet understanding that always managed to throw Petey off. With one swift motion, Dogman signed, “I know that. I still like you"
Petey swallowed hard, the weight of what he was about to admit making his pulse quicken. “I don’t just mean that I like having you and the kid around! I mean... I like you. A lot.” He forced the words out, his chest tight with nerves. “More than I should, probably.”
Dogman’s eyes widened, his whole body stilling as the weight of Petey’s confession sank in. He didn’t move at first, as if he was processing the gravity of what had just been said. Then, instead of his usual energetic response, he reached out carefully, his hand moving to rest gently on Petey’s arm. Petey tensed at the contact—he always did when anyone got too close. But this time, something in the way Dogman looked at him, with that quiet patience, made him pause. Dogman wasn’t rushing, wasn’t trying to force anything. He was just... there. Steady. Present. Petey looked down at Dogman’s hand, his heart pounding, and then, slowly, he met Dogman’s gaze again.
The warmth that was always there—the kindness, the understanding—was still present, but now there was something deeper. A tenderness, an openness that made Petey’s heart stutter in his chest. It wasn’t just that Dogman cared; it was that he was waiting.
Petey’s throat tightened. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone looking at him like this, like he was worth waiting for. Like he wasn’t just someone to fix or save, but someone to love. He hadn't been looked at that way in a long time, he thought, not after his mom passed away.
Without fully thinking, he let his gaze drop to Dogman’s mouth—just for a second. The air between them crackled with something electric. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, just an inch, testing the waters. Dogman blinked in surprise, tilting his head like a curious puppy, unsure of what was coming. He briefly wondered if Dogman had ever kissed anyone before. Not like he has. His brain was scrambling, but before he could think it through, their lips awkwardly bumped into each other in a clumsy, uncoordinated kiss.
It wasn’t smooth or romantic—Petey’s nose accidentally smushed into Dogman’s snout, and Dogman, bless him, didn’t really know what to do with his mouth, so there was an awkward moment of wet noses and too much pressure.
Petey pulled back quickly, sputtering a little, his eyes wide in shock. “Okay, that... that was... uh…” He wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, looking flustered.
Dogman, equally confused but always a good sport, gave him a big, goofy grin. His ears perked up, and he signed, “I think I missed the memo on how that works. Did I do it right?” His expression was so sincere that Petey couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Petey doubled over, trying to catch his breath between snorts. “That was... honestly terrible! What was that?! You call that a kiss?” His laughter was contagious, even to himself, as he wiped a tear from his eye. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to go!”
Dogman, on the other hand, looked mortified. His ears drooped, his cheeks flushed, and he let out a series of nervous little whines, the sound getting stuck in his throat like a stuttered bark. He glanced away quickly, his paws fidgeting as if he was too embarrassed to even look at Petey.
Petey stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “What, are you embarrassed? Now you get embarrassed?”
Dogman’s eyes darted nervously back and forth, clearly embarrassed beyond belief. He opened his mouth to try and make a sound—maybe to apologize—but what came out instead was a low, nervous whine. Before either of them could process what was happening, Dogman leaned in, almost on instinct, and licked the side of Petey’s face in one long, sloppy swipe.
Petey froze. His eyes went wide with shock as Dogman’s big, wet tongue dragged across his fur. “Eugh!—what did I say about licking!?"
Dogman let out an excited bark, looking utterly unapologetic. He signed, "Couldn't help it!", and then added, "You know, I kinda like it when you're mean to me"
Petey’s jaw dropped. “Oh shut it!” His fur bristled, but Dogman just wagged his ears, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “You’re impossible,” Petey sighed, shaking his head, though the corners of his mouth were twitching with an involuntary smile.
Later that night, as they pulled up to Petey’s place, Dogman adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced at him. For a moment, their eyes met—no words were exchanged, but Dogman’s gaze was steady and sincere, filled with a simple truth.
“I’m here,” his eyes seemed to say. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time in a long time, Petey let himself believe it.