Chapter Text
It was 11:30 p.m. , or at least that’s what the clock on the nightstand said.
Petey sighed and closed his eyes, the memories of the night floating in his mind—blurry and vivid all at once. Maybe if he went over them slowly, sleep would come before he could finish.
After Lil’ Petey’s 8 p.m. bath, he had made sure his fur was completely dry before patiently combing it and helping him into his winter pajamas. He tucked him in with the same routine as always and, without thinking too much about it, pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
By 9, he was in the living room with Dogman, the television playing some cooking show that served more as background noise than actual entertainment. Their conversation flowed naturally, filled with idle remarks about their day and Lil’ Petey’s insistence that Greg should take a day off work to attend his school presentation.
At 9:20, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the peace of the house. Lil’ Petey came downstairs, saying he needed to use the bathroom. Petey felt his eyes close on their own, only realizing how exhausted he was when Greg got up before him, deciding to go with the kid. He watched him move with heavy steps, and if he ended up dozing off against the doorframe, it wouldn’t be a surprise.
By 9:50, Dogman was back on the couch, dropping down beside him with a quiet chuckle as he recounted what had happened.
For twenty minutes, Lil’ Petey sat on the toilet lid, going on and on about his school presentation while Greg, leaning against the doorframe, tried to stay awake, nodding every now and then to show he was listening. When he finally asked if he was done, the kid just shrugged and replied, completely unfazed, “False alarm.”
It took another ten minutes to get him back to bed. Dogman lingered in the doorway for a bit, making sure he was actually asleep before leaving.
Before Petey could respond, a sudden noise upstairs made them look up at the ceiling.
Something had fallen—maybe a toy, maybe a flashlight. They exchanged glances, sharing the same resignation. No words were needed: Lil’ Petey was still in the habit of drawing under the covers.
They’d figure out later which one of them would go check if he had really fallen asleep.
By 10:20, exhaustion won. Too tired to stay awake on the couch, a shared sigh was enough to agree that it was time to move to bed.
As Dogman placed his uniform somewhere visible so Petey could iron it in the morning, the cat made one last stop by his son’s room. He peeked inside carefully and confirmed that this time, he was completely asleep.
Lil’ Petey had finally given in to exhaustion, curled up in a position that looked anything but comfortable. Petey barely smiled and gently closed the door before heading to his own room.
The room he shared with Greg.
Winter had settled in weeks ago, making every corner of the house colder. Maybe that’s why Lil’ Petey had insisted on getting pajamas that matched Dogman’s uniform, searching for something that would make him feel warmer.
Or maybe that’s why, one night, Dogman had simply slipped into Petey’s bed without asking for permission. Too tired to care about any complaints, he had collapsed beside him with a deep sigh.
By the time Petey processed it, he was already asleep.
Petey had considered pushing him off the bed, but when he tried, he felt the warmth of his body against his cold paws. He hesitated for a few minutes, torn between his pride and exhaustion, until he ultimately gave in. Purely strategic, not because he liked it.
What started as a one-time exception quickly became routine. First, a week. Then another. Until he stopped counting.
Now, Dogman was already under the covers with the same familiarity as always, flipping through a book on electrical circuits without really paying attention.
At 10:40, Petey’s sleepy voice filled the room. Greg blinked, took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay awake as he listened to the next chapter of How to Connect Wires in a Satisfactory Manner. But his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until, inevitably, he drifted off.
Petey followed suit. He carefully closed the book and set it on the nightstand. A quick glance at the clock—10:50 p.m. Not bad.
He waited.
He felt Greg shift.
Still, he waited.
A warm weight settled over his chest, followed by a loose embrace.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes. 11:50 p.m.
Going over every detail of the night hadn’t helped at all. Instead of lulling him to sleep, his mind was more awake than before.
That wasn’t new. Insomnia and he were old friends, always sneaking in during the quietest nights—when he needed rest the most.
But this time, it wasn’t about work or tomorrow’s lunch.
It was about something else.
Or someone else.
Someone who, upon opening his eyes, he found sleeping on top of him.
Dogman had completely sprawled over him, his head resting against his chest, breathing slow and steady. His body radiated warmth, but instead of relaxing him, a shiver ran down Petey’s spine. Not from the room’s temperature, but from something more unsettling. Something that kept him awake while Greg mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep—probably dreaming about squirrels.
He should push him off. Any other night, he would have done it without hesitation. But instead, he just watched him. His partner was fast asleep, ears relaxed, one leg tangled with his, blissfully unaware of the existential crisis he was having.
Because Petey realized something.
Ever since their dynamic had completely shifted, everything felt like a game of extremes: kill him, kiss him, or marry him
He’d thought about it before, though never out loud.
Maybe when he accidentally programmed a robot to assist Dogman in his absence… only for it to activate its evil mode instead.
Greg, who had been working out outside, had to sprint back when the robot suddenly attacked him without warning. They defeated it together, but afterward, the officer stood in front of him, arms crossed, brow furrowed.
Not angry, worried.
He signed that he needed to be more careful.
Petey could’ve brushed it off with a joke. But instead, he just grinned.
Greg was still breathing hard, frowning as he asked what would’ve happened if Lil’ Petey had been there. Or if the robot had attacked while he wasn’t around to protect them.
Petey should have ignored it, taken it lightly as always. But for some reason, he stayed silent, watching him, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks before he could stop it.
But now…
With Greg asleep on his chest, his slow breaths and steady weight surrounding him completely, the game no longer felt like just a game. It felt like something else. Something he wasn’t ready to name.
He couldn’t stop his mind from filling with moments when, without realizing it, they had brushed against the second option.
Like that time in the kitchen.
It was early morning. Petey had barely started stirring the eggs in the pan when he felt Greg approach from behind, warm and drowsy, resting his chin on his shoulder with shameless ease.
“Do you have something to say, or are you just going to grumble in my ear?” he muttered without turning.
Dogman whined softly, a lazy complaint, before rubbing his face against his shoulder, still half-asleep.
And then, without warning, he slid a hand around his waist, gave him a small squeeze, and effortlessly moved him aside.
Before Petey could protest, Dogman was already leaning over to grab the coffee pot. And when he was done, just as casually as before, he guided him right back in front of the stove.
Petey didn’t even notice that his heart was beating a little faster than usual.
Before stepping away, Dogman tilted his head and licked his cheek—slow and deliberate, as if that was the only way he knew how to say thank you.
It shouldn’t have counted as the second option… but it did.
And now, with Dogman sleeping on top of him, trusting him enough to be this vulnerable, he wondered if they were just as close to the third.
Petey had never been good with feelings, with vulnerability. But at least when he was younger, he had the excuse of inexperience. Now, he had none.
And yet, here he was.
He didn’t know when he had let his guard down. Only that, by the time he realized, it was already too late.
He had long since stopped fighting what he felt, the warmth that surrounded him whenever Greg did little things for him. Making sure he ate, covering him with a blanket when he worked late, leaving his coffee exactly how he liked it.
And with Li’l Petey… checking his things before school, helping him with his homework even when he didn’t fully understand the exercises, holding him tight on the couch until he fell asleep in his arms.
He had learned to live with those quiet gestures.
But what happened in the garden was something else.
Li’l Petey was painting, absentmindedly testing the new oil paints Petey had bought him for no particular reason. Petey watched him, and in the privacy of their home, he allowed himself to indulge in his own feelings, just a little. Somehow, between casual conversation and lingering glances, Greg started thanking him.
He thanked him for the lunches, for the warmth of freshly ironed shirts, for all those little things that, without realizing it, had become part of their routine.
“For giving me a family.”
He said it so calmly, his hands moving slowly as if making sure Petey understood every word. And he did.
Too well.
Then, as if he hadn’t just laid all his love bare in a single sentence, the dog simply looked up and said, “Look, that cloud looks like a fish.”
Petey followed his gaze, but all he saw was the mess unraveling inside his chest.
Greg spoke with the same lightness as always, as if he hadn’t just completely disarmed him with one simple phrase.
And in that moment, he knew.
No matter how much he tried to fool himself, his heart hadn’t been his own for a long time.
Ever since Dogman started sleeping beside him, everything felt different. It wasn’t just habit or the comforting warmth of his body. It was that unbearable flutter in his chest, that electricity beneath his skin.
Like Dogman had pulled him back into a time in his life he thought was long gone—when falling in love felt like a punch to the gut and a frantic race of heartbeats.
Like he was holding a folded note that read, Do you like me? Check yes or no, without knowing what to do with it.
Dogman was there, confident, asleep beside him as if everything were normal. As if he wasn’t tearing him apart without even trying.
And so, because it was easier to make a joke than to face the truth, because he didn’t want to know the answer, Petey murmured,
“Are you going to kill me?”
Dogman didn’t react. Just a slight twitch of his ear, a deeper breath.
Petey swallowed.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
Nothing.
Only the silence of the room, the slow rhythm of his breathing against his chest.
His heart pounded. His palms were sweating.
He clenched the blanket between his fingers, feeling the weight of the last question.
“Are you going to marry me?”
This time, Greg moved.
At first, it was subtle, a shift in his breathing, a quiet murmur.
And then, without warning, he lifted his head, half-opened his eyes, and pressed his mouth against his.
It wasn’t a hungry or passionate kiss. It was lazy and soft, like a half-formed thought drifting through his dreams. Like the answer had always been there, waiting to be spoken.
But for Petey, it was a blow straight to the chest.
Dogman pulled back just slightly, a drowsy smile on his lips, before settling back down against his chest and falling asleep again.
As if nothing had happened.
As if the kiss had been nothing more than a logical response to his question.
As if, even half-asleep, he had already chosen him.
Petey glanced at the clock. 1:15 a.m.
He sighed. He knew his mind wouldn’t leave him alone for the rest of the night, but he forced himself to close his eyes. He’d deal with it in the morning.
Maybe he’d make pancakes for breakfast.
And maybe, without thinking too much about it, he’d leave the coffee pot by the stove again.
Just so Greg would pull him aside by the waist, lick his cheek, and say:
“Thanks.”