Work Text:
Agatha had been the owner of the Road building for the past fifteen years. A restored brownstone tucked between a yoga studio and an overpriced wine bar, the Road had always been home to an eclectic mix of small businesses, right now it was composed by her own secondhand bookstore occupying the first floor along a record and a candle store. There was a tarot reading just above them, now alone as Agatha hadn't yet found a replacement for the other spot there since Natasha moved her pilates studio to a bigger place a few blocks away.
Over the years, she'd rented the commercial spaces to all sorts of tenants, and while she had, on occasion, been tempted to commit mild acts of violence over unpaid rent or illegally installed shelves, no one had come quite as close to making her want to actually murder someone like Rio Vidal.
When Rio first contacted her about the available unit six months ago, Agatha wasn’t thrilled. Dog cafés were chaotic. Loud. Smelly. The antithesis of the quiet, incense-scented ecosystem she had so carefully cultivated over the years.
But Rio had been polite—charmingly persistent, even—and Agatha, ever the practical landlord, knew that foot traffic from a dog café could benefit everyone in the building. So, she ignored the sinking feeling in her gut and emailed Rio back with a warm welcome, telling her they would be "happy to have her join their little coven."
Agatha was not, it should be noted, a dog person. Or an animal person in general. Her rabbit, Señor Scratchy, had been an involuntary adoption. She’d been on her way to grab a rare edition of a book from a seller uptown when she passed an animal adoption fair. She’d glanced at a tiny, trembling bundle of beige and brown fur in a too-small enclosure, just to satisfy a passing curiosity and the next thing she knew, she was signing paperwork and purchasing a disgustingly overpriced setup that took up far too much space in her apartment.
But despite her indifference to all things furry and four-legged, Agatha was not ignorant to trends. Or at least she wasn't after Billy, the usually-annoying-but-unfortunately-helpful kid that worked for her, had sent her several viral videos of café-goers sipping lattes while golden retrievers dozed beside them, influencers posing with poodles in pumpkin hats. People loved that shit. Some even traveled across cities just to pet animals while drinking a matcha.
So when Rio said she wanted to bring her “rescue-forward dog café concept” to the building, Agatha decided it was a smart move, even if it meant dogs living upstairs from her store. Even if it meant Rio .
She had assumed Rio would get the keys, do her renovations, and settle in quietly like every other tenant.
She had assumed very, very wrong.
From the moment the lease was signed, Rio had become a constant presence in Agatha’s life. She texted. She called. She emailed with questions Agatha had already answered (several times). She showed up—always with a measuring tape and a new excuse.
Did the front-facing windows get the same light at 3 p.m. as they did at noon?
Could she double-check the water pressure in the bathroom again?
Could she please get inside just one more time to make sure her new reclaimed wood counters would fit?
Agatha, who wasn't really that patient, but prided herself on at least trying to with the people that paid her bills, found herself grinding her teeth every time Rio’s name popped up on her phone.
And yet, she kept helping.
Because she remembered what it was like, being a woman trying to build something without having support. And because Rio always managed to wrap her requests in some combination of optimism, bashful charm, and wide-eyed excitement that made it really hard for Agatha to say no.
Besides, Agatha figured, it was temporary. Once the renovations were done and the café opened, things would quiet down.
But they didn’t.
If anything, they got worse.
Even with a successful opening—lines out the door, dogs in sweaters lounging by the window, five-star reviews flooding in—Rio never seemed satisfied. There was always something. A flickering light in the hallway. The front lock felt “weird.” A draft near the back storage room.
And every time something went slightly awry, she contacted Agatha.
That was how, on a perfectly peaceful Wednesday afternoon, Agatha found herself being dragged away from a stack of newly arrived poetry collections in her bookstore to deal with Rio’s latest crisis—a “plumbing emergency.”
“Emergency” was a strong word, Agatha thought, as she climbed the stairs toward the café, her boots echoing with heavy steps. She hadn’t heard the sound of rushing water or panicked barking—two things she’d assume would accompany actual plumbing disasters. Still, Rio had insisted.
Agatha sighed, already regretting every decision that had led her to this moment. She paused outside the café door, collecting herself before she knocked. She wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the constant interruptions or the way her heart still did that inconvenient stutter whenever Rio opened the door, hair messy from work, cheeks flushed from running around after half a dozen dogs, and always—always—grinning like she was genuinely happy to see her.
Agatha knocked. And almost immediately regretted it.
Because the second the door opened, Rio looked at her like she’d been waiting all day.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said, wide-eyed. “It’s worse than I thought.”
Agatha sighed. “Of course it is.”
Agatha followed Rio through the café, doing her best to keep her eyes fixed on the back wall. The dogs— Rio’s dogs —all had the unsettling tendency to look at her with too much enthusiasm. A golden retriever that she was sure was following her wagged its tail chipperly as she made the mistake to stray her eyes away. Agatha glared at it, just in case it was thinking about jumping on her or something.
She wasn’t scared of dogs. She just didn’t like to deal with them. Too much energy. Too much neediness. Too much slobber.
Rio, of course, moved with the ease of someone who belonged in this chaos. She greeted customers, slipped behind a counter to adjust a bowl, gave a dog a quick scratch behind the ears, and somehow managed to keep up a running stream of conversation without missing a beat.
“How’s everything downstairs, by the way? Alice told me you’ve been getting a lot of influx since the special event this weekend,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she led Agatha toward the narrow hallway that housed the staff bathroom.
Agatha resisted the urge to groan. Of course Alice had told Rio. Alice ran her late mother's record store and had quickly bonded with Rio. Apparently their new friendship included gossiping about Agatha’s customers too.
“Yes,” she said flatly. “Business has been booming this week. I guess I need to thank the matcha goddess.”
Rio laughed, completely missing—or possibly ignoring—the sarcasm.
Agatha still couldn’t believe that the stupid “It’s a Matcha!” event had worked. She had watched incredulously as a parade of people filtered into the café over the weekend, giggling and comparing their little laminated pictures like they were trading Pokémon cards. Apparently, if you ordered any matcha product, you got a random photo of one of the rescue dogs from the shelter Rio volunteered. They also came with a little info about the dog and how you could reach out if you wanted to adopt them.
People had lost their minds over it.
Billy had excitedly told Agatha that those things had become really popular because of K-pop fandoms and the photocard trend had expanded. “People collect them,” he’d said, waving his own card like it was made of gold. “This is genius. Not only is Rio bringing people in, she is also shining the spotlight on the dogs that have been waiting to find their forever home.”
Agatha had decided to completely tune him out.
And then, the next afternoon, she’d been ambushed during a lull at the register.
“Hey, Ms. Harkness,” Yelena, had popped in, holding a to-go cup and a card. “Ms. Vidal asked me to bring your coffee. She also sent you this—she said she didn’t want you to feel left out just because you don’t like matcha.”
Agatha had stared at the offering for a moment, suspicious.
She hadn’t asked for coffee.
And she definitely hadn’t asked for the dog merch that came with it.
Still, she’d taken the cup with a murmured thanks and the stupid laminated card, rolling her eyes before slipping it into her jacket pocket. Later, when she’d been alone in the back, she’d looked.
It was a photo of a long-haired dog, white and fluffy, sitting in a bed of flowers. Someone had drawn a little pink heart in the corner with “CLOUD” in block letters underneath. The info said she was a bit skittish of people at first, but she could be an amazing companion if the person had the patience to warm her heart.
Agatha had scowled.
And then, against her better judgment, she’d looked up what breed it was.
A Samoyed.
Ridiculous.
Back in the present, Rio stopped outside the staff bathroom and gestured dramatically.
“Behold. The scene of the crime.”
Agatha stepped inside with a skeptical frown. The bathroom was small, barely large enough for the sink, toilet, and one of those eco-friendly air dryers that never actually dried anything. It looked fine. Clean. No water on the floor. No suspicious smells.
She glanced back at Rio. “What exactly is the emergency again?”
Rio leaned against the doorframe like they were chatting about the weather, completely unbothered by the cramped space. “Okay, so, it was making this weird sound earlier. Like a gurgling thing? But not constant. Just a few times. And the flush felt soft. Is that a thing? Can a flush feel soft?”
Agatha crouched down beside the toilet, biting her tongue. She pressed the flush and listened. It sounded perfectly normal. The tank filled up again with no protest. She tested the sink. Ran the faucet. Knocked lightly on the pipes. Nothing out of place.
“I’m not hearing anything gurgly,” she said after a beat. “No soft flushes either.”
Rio frowned. “Well, it was happening. Maybe it stopped? Or maybe it’s shy now that you’re here.”
Agatha stood slowly and gave her a look. “You dragged me up here because the toilet felt shy?”
“No! No,” Rio said, laughing. “I swear something was weird. And I didn’t want to wait until it turned into, like, a full-on plumbing disaster and suddenly dogs are swimming in the hallway.”
“Mm. Very responsible of you.”
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”
Agatha sighed, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “It’s probably just air in the pipes. Nothing catastrophic.”
“Okay, cool,” Rio said brightly, as if that was the outcome she’d been hoping for all along. “Thanks for checking anyway. Want me to make you a coffee for the trouble?”
Agatha gave her a pointed look. “This is technically my job, besides, as someone who collects rent from you, I don't think it's financially responsible of you to keep giving people free coffee,”
At that, Rio gave Agatha a genuine laugh. “I assure you, you will get your money either way and I don't give people free coffee, I give you free coffee”
Agatha rolled her eyes, not really bothering to comment on that.
“Can I at least accompany you back to your store?” Rio asked expectantly.
“No. I’m pretty sure I will find my way just fine. Assuming none of your hounds are plotting an ambush in the hallway.”
“They’re not hounds,” Rio said with a mock gasp. “They’re good boys. Except Pickles. He’s a bit of a bastard.”
From somewhere out in the café, a bark rang out—sharp and unmistakably offended.
Rio winced. “Oops. He heard me.”
Agatha shook her head and stepped out into the hall, brushing past Rio before her mouth could say another stupid thing that would make Agatha's heart involuntarily stutter.
She really needed a way to keep some distance from Rio’s madness. Maybe she should find a handyman or something.
💚☕️🐶🍵💜
Agatha had not hired a handyman.
She’d actually thought about it. Briefly. One lazy evening, she even hovered over a tab with a list of local services, her finger poised above the trackpad.
But then she remembered the last time she’d let someone mess around in her building, she had to deal with a week of noise, a hallway that stank of paint thinner, and a door that never quite closed the same way again.
Besides, she could handle these things. She was perfectly capable. Or so she thought, until she found herself once again walking into the chaos of The Bark Side.
This time because of a vague message about “the lights in the back flickering like haunted house vibes.”
Agatha had not replied to that text. She simply left the peace and quiet of her bookstore to enter the chaos of Rio’s coffee shop.
She stepped into the place and was immediately met by the smell of espresso and dog treats. Somewhere, someone squealed, “Oh my god, he's wearing a sweater!” and a dog barked in agreement.
Agatha squinted around the shop, spotting Rio easily—partly because she got used to Rio’s stupid flannel shirts, partly because her laugh rose above the rest like a magnetic pull.
She wasn’t alone though.
At her table was Lilia—the ancient tarot reader who ran her little shop across the hallway. She was perched on the edge of a seat, a steaming mug of tea between her hands, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. Rio looked enraptured.
Agatha crossed the room and raised a brow. “Don’t you have people to scam?”
Lilia didn’t even blink. “Don’t you have a building to run?”
Agatha rolled her eyes as Rio let out a startled laugh.
“What’s the emergency this time?” she asked, tone dry but expectant.
And just like that, Rio’s demeanor shifted.
She went from animated to awkward in a blink, like someone had hit the pause button mid-performance. Her shoulders stiffened. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her eyes flicked to Lilia, then back to Agatha.
“Uh…” she said.
Agatha narrowed her eyes.
Rio looked like she was scrambling. The kind of scrambling one did when they didn’t have an actual business-threatening emergency. The kind of scrambling someone did when they’d made something up and hadn’t expected a prompt follow-through.
Lilia tilted her head slightly, watching the exchange like she had just pulled an amazing spread of cards.
“It was…” Rio tried again, drawing out the syllable like she could will a reason into existence. “It was the, uh, flickering light in the storage room. You know, the one you said probably just needed a new bulb?”
Agatha folded her arms. “The one I changed two weeks ago?”
Rio blinked.
“…Yes?”
Agatha stared. Rio fidgeted.
Lilia let out a quiet, knowing hum behind her cup.
“Right,” Agatha said. “Well, I guess I should take a look. Just in case this phantom flickering becomes sentient.”
“Totally,” Rio said, too quickly. “Yeah, let’s make sure the ghostbusters are not involved”
Agatha turned and walked toward the back hallway, resisting the urge to smile at the sound of Rio scrambling after her. As they passed the tables, she could feel the weight of Lilia’s amused stare between her shoulder blades.
She knew the old bitch would probably tease her about this at some point.
Agatha waited until they were in the hallway to speak again, her voice low. “You didn’t really have an emergency, did you?”
Rio winced. “Technically… it was an almost-emergency.”
Agatha stopped walking and turned, pinning her with a look. “Rio.”
Rio sighed and looked away, cheeks just a shade too pink to be blamed on café heat. “I just... I hadn’t seen you in a couple days.”
Agatha’s stomach flipped before she could stop it. She should say something.
Something like, That’s not a good reason to waste someone’s time , or Don't you have other people to bother?
But instead, she looked at the woman in front of her—nervous, hopeful, clearly incapable of sustaining a lie—and said, flatly, “If you wanted to see me so much you could have just said that”
Rio smiled. “Would you really come all the way here if I did?”
Agatha sighed again, quieter this time, before turning back toward the storage room.
“You better have an actual ghost in there or I might make you one myself,” Agatha said, but Rio only laughed.
“Would you really want me as a ghost with nothing to do except haunting you all day?” Rio asked sheepishly.
Agatha let out a groan, but moved on to expecting the allegedly haunted light. Completely ignoring the way her body shivered every time she accidentally brushed Rio’s when she moved around.
💚☕️🐶🍵💜
Agatha had never come to Rio’s café voluntarily before. Not without some contrived reason dragging her upstairs. But this—this was almost worse. Because this time Agatha was willingly making herself go there and she had no excuse except for the truth.
Her coffee machine was broken.
And it was far too early in the morning for her to face the day without caffeine. She’d stared at the machine for a good five minutes, willing it to work through sheer fury. Then she’d tried to fix it, made it worse, and nearly broke her own French press in a fit of desperation. Her bookstore wasn’t due to open for another hour, but if she didn’t get coffee soon, someone—or something—was going to die.
So now she found herself trudging upstairs, clutching her coat tighter around her as if it could shield her from the humiliation of this unplanned surrender.
The café was still closed—thank god. The “Sorry, We’re Closed!” sign with stupid dog drawings around it swung gently on the glass door, mocking her.
Agatha raised a fist and knocked, telling herself she’d leave if Rio didn’t answer in five seconds.
One… two… three—
The door cracked open.
Rio appeared, dressed in a soft green flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up and her hair a little messier than usual. She blinked sleepily at Agatha like she hadn’t quite finished waking up. Then her eyes widened in mild alarm.
“Agatha? Is everything okay?”
Agatha hesitated.
She should say no. Pretend there was a plumbing issue. Or a fire. Or a complaint from a neighbor. Anything to justify standing there like some lost, caffeine-deprived ghoul.
Instead, she said, stiffly, “My coffee machine broke.” and hoped that was enough.
Rio stared at her for a beat.
“Oh,” she said, still squinting like she thought this might be a dream. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come in?”
“No,” Agatha said, then corrected herself with a sigh. “Yes. I mean—just a coffee. To go.”
Rio was smiling now, wide and genuine and so annoyingly bright for someone who woke up before the sun on purpose.
“It’s going to take me a moment to make you one, just come wait here with us,” she said, stepping back to let Agatha in.
“Fine,” Agatha muttered as she entered, eyes avoiding the basket of toys by the door and the pastel menu board that still smelled like dry-erase ink. “But make it quick”
Rio flipped on a few lights, her dogs stirring lazily in their corner enclosures, apparently too sleepy to be interested in Agatha’s presence. She can't say she's not thankful for that.
“I haven’t even started the prep yet,” Rio said, moving behind the counter and tying her apron on like she was preparing for battle. “But I can make you something. You want your usual?”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have a usual.”
“You do. You just like to pretend you don’t,” Rio replied cheerfully, pulling out the ingredients for a macchiato.
Agatha didn’t respond. Mostly because Rio was right. She never really carried about the drink, she just liked the caffeine in her body, but she had started to love the one Rio always sent her.
She sat awkwardly on one of the stools near the register, watching Rio move with practiced ease. The sound of the grinder and the low hiss of steaming milk filled the space, comforting in a way Agatha didn’t want to examine too closely.
“You know,” Rio said over her shoulder, “this technically counts as a visit. Voluntary, even.”
“It’s not voluntary if I was forced by attenuating circumstances,” Agatha said crisply.
“Sure, but I’ll take my victories where I can.”
Agatha rolled her eyes but said nothing.
When the coffee was ready, Rio set it in front of her on the counter with a small, crooked smile. “No photocard this time, sorry. But I guess Caramel is making up for that.”
Agatha looked at her confused, before Rio directed her eyes to something near her foot and Agatha finally saw one of the dogs, the stupid Golden Retriever, sleeping near where her feet were perched on the stool bar.
Agatha stared at the dog for a moment. It seemed to be completely unbothered by Agatha's allegedly disdain for it, head over both paws and eyes closed in a peaceful manner,
She looked back at Rio, quickly taking the to-go cup, her fingers brushing Rio’s in the exchange forcing her to fight back the shiver.
Rio, of course, noticed the change in her demeanor. She always did.
“You okay?” she asked, not teasing now—just soft and curious, as if she knew exactly how to ask without making Agatha feel like she was being studied.
Agatha sipped the coffee, letting the heat of it spread through her system like a lifeline.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Rio leaned on the counter, watching her with an easy smile. “Not a dog person?”
“I don’t really like animals in general,” Agatha said, setting the cup down carefully. “But dogs are a little too much for me”
Rio laughed, and Agatha hated how much she liked the sound.
“It makes sense, dogs are good company, but it is a lot of work.” Rio said eventually. “I always kinda assumed you were more of a cat person, but i guess I was wrong there too”
Agatha hadn’t meant to say it. The words had just… slipped out.
“I’m a Señor Scratchy’s only person actually,” she said, and immediately regretted it.
Rio’s entire face lit up.
“A what now?” Rio asked, practically vibrating with interest.
It was the first time Agatha had engaged in an actual conversation with her. Agatha sighed like it was a great burden, but her lips betrayed her with the smallest tug at the corner.
“Señor Scratchy is my rabbit. He’s an accidental adoption. Pure evil. Chews on my books and tries to eat power cords when he is bored. But I guess I’m emotionally attached to him now, so.”
Rio’s smile grew even wider. “You have a bunny? That’s the most unexpected thing I’ve ever heard and I’m so glad I did. Wait—do you have pictures?”
Agatha hesitated. “No.”
Rio raised an eyebrow.
Agatha rolled her eyes and reached into her coat. “Fine. One.”
It was clearly a lie. Agatha had more pictures of Señor Scratchy than herself in her gallery. Still, she kept her pretense, pulled out her phone and opened her gallery. Scrolling past far too many blurry selfies that Billy had somehow managed to take on her phone, until she found the one she was looking for: Señor Scratchy perched indignantly atop a stack of ancient philosophy books, his fluffy ears folded like angry punctuation marks, and his small paws spread out like he was challenging anyone to question his authority.
She turned the phone toward Rio.
Rio gasped. “He’s majestic.”
“He’s insufferable.”
Rio zoomed in. “He looks like he owns a haunted manor and sends threatening letters to his enemies.”
Agatha huffed, but the sound was mostly a laugh. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”
Rio leaned in a little, handing the phone back reluctantly. “You should bring him around sometime, I would really love to meet him”
“Absolutely not, he's been banned from Triple Goddess and The Road whole building” Agatha said, pocketing her phone. “Besides he would probably just bite you out of spite so I wouldn't be so thrilled to meet him if I was you”
Rio chuckled and leaned back against the counter again, her hands now curled around her own half-made drink.
“So how long have you had him?”
Agatha hesitated, surprised by how easily the conversation was flowing. “About two years, I guess. I saw him at one of those sidewalk adoption fairs. I wasn’t planning on getting anything, I just… I don’t know. He looked at me. I looked at him. Next thing I know, I’m signing paperwork and walking away with a carrier and a shopping list longer than my grocery one.”
“That’s how they get you,” Rio said with a knowing grin. “The eyes.”
“I think he hexed me.”
“Sounds a lot like love at first sigh to me.”
Agatha glanced down at her coffee, trying not to let the weight of those words settle in too deeply. The café was still closed, the lights only half on, the soft hum of the espresso machine filling the air as the dogs slept or shuffled around quietly in their enclosures. Caramel, the stupid golden retriever, had moved a little closer to Agatha’s feet. She pretended not to notice it.
“What is your story with them? Did you really fall for all these eyes?” Agatha saw herself asking.
Rio smiled softly at Caramel at Agatha's feet, then looked back up at her eyes, her voice taking on that steady warmth Agatha was starting to recognize as something painfully genuine.
“Technically, I’ve only adopted Caramel Macchiato here. He’s mine—papers, vet bills, fur all over my laundry and everything. The others… they’re still technically up for adoption. I just…” She sighed, reaching for the cloth behind the counter and twisting it in her hands like it might help her find the right words. “Some of the little guys in the shelter had been there for a really long time and I've been trying to find a way to get them adopted”
“I already wanted to open a coffee shop, and I saw the opportunity to put these two things together. I started bringing some of them here for socialization. Thought it would help them find homes faster if people could actually meet them. Not just look at some sad picture on a website.”
She glanced toward the back of the café where soft snores echoed faintly.
“And it has helped. Two of the dogs I brought in early on already got adopted. One couple even drove in from out of state to get one of them. That felt huge. But these four…”
Rio’s eyes flickered back to Agatha. “I don’t know. They just stayed. People love them. But they love the routine, they know the space. And maybe I’m making it harder for them to leave, but… I also think maybe not everyone needs a new home. Some just need the right one, even if it’s not what we originally planned for, you know?”
Agatha nodded, but remained silent. Her coffee, long forgotten in her hands, had gone lukewarm. But she didn’t take another sip. She just studied Rio quietly.
Something about the words— the right one, even if it’s not what we originally planned for —lodged itself somewhere beneath Agatha’s ribs like a thorn she hadn’t realized she’d stepped on.
“What are their names?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
Rio blinked, then lit up. “Oh, okay. So. You’ve met Caramel—loves to act like he’s a weighted blanket. Then there’s Pickles. He’s the French bulldog who growls at his own reflection. Troublemaker. I love him to death.”
From the corner, a snorting bark echoed in what sounded like agreement.
“Next up, we’ve got Miso, my shy little Akita. She likes to hang back unless someone has peanut butter. Then she’s suddenly Miss Congeniality. We call her Miso Soup when she’s being extra dramatic.”
Agatha almost smiled. Almost.
“Then there's Tofu, the greyhound who loves to run around the park when I take him for a walk, but would probably get a golden medal if sleep was an Olympic sport. He’s the only reason I’ve ever considered getting blackout curtains in a commercial space.”
A thump from one of the beds punctuated that statement.
“And finally, Bean Sprout. We call her Bean. She’s this scrappy blue healer who acts like a bouncer. Always stationed near the front like she’s guarding the realm. But if you scratch behind her ears, she melts into a puddle.”
Agatha listened quietly, the names sticking to her brain like tiny magnets—Bean, Tofu, Miso, Pickles, Caramel. It was absurd. Whimsical. Infuriating.
And… it was sweet.
“Don’t they get in the way?” she asked after a beat.
“Sometimes,” Rio said with a shrug. “But mostly, they just fill the place with joy. People come here for the coffee and stay for the chaos. Or maybe the other way around.”
It was at that moment the back door creaked, and the familiar stampede of paws echoed as the rest of the pack seemed to realize that their human had been stationary and whispering for too long.
Suddenly, Agatha was surrounded—Bean circled her feet like a guard dog, Tofu ambled up and flopped dramatically at her side, Pickles stared at her like he was daring her to blink wrong, and Miso kept a cautious distance but watched with big, trusting eyes.
“I’m going to be mauled,” Agatha said flatly.
“You’re being greeted,” Rio corrected, her grin wide now. “They know when someone’s worth investigating.”
Before Agatha could form a retort, the front door swung open and America entered, blinking against the light and the sudden attention of five very excited dogs running to greet her.
“Whoa. You guys are really excited this morning, huh?” she said, tossing her bag behind the counter. Then her gaze landed on Agatha and she froze. “Wait. You’re here?”
That's when Agatha turned toward the window, suddenly aware of the daylight pouring in. “What time is it?”
“Almost 9,” America said, raising an eyebrow. “Billy was about to go check on you. He thought you were dead or something.”
“Not dead,” Agatha muttered, already standing. She reached for her coat, which was now covered in more dog hair than she’d ever allow herself to admit. “I just—got delayed.”
“Delayed by what?” America asked.
Rio was silent and Agatha met her eyes for a heartbeat longer than she meant to.
“Emergency coffee,” Agatha said finally. “And I guess excellent customer service”
She started for the door, but just as she was about to leave, Rio called after her.
“I’ll send another one down later! Just in case you run low on your caffeine intake and decide to commit murder, that would be really bad for the business.”
Agatha didn’t turn, but she did lift a hand in vague acknowledgment. The dogs barked a chorus of farewells behind her, and she swore she could feel Caramel's soft head nudge her calf before she stepped out.
For someone who didn’t like animals, she was sure starting to warm up this little pack. Owner not included.
💚☕️🐶🍵💜
There had been a shift after that. A subtle one—like a door quietly nudged open by the wind rather than slammed by force.
Agatha hadn’t meant for it to happen. She told herself that every time she caught her own reflection in the café window, waiting just outside The Bark Side before opening hours. Just standing there like some sleep-deprived cryptid, clutching her empty to-go mug like it was the last tether to sanity. She’d convinced herself it was the coffee.
Or maybe even the routine of it—Rio behind the counter in her oversized flannel, hair tied up messily, humming some half-remembered song while whisking her matcha like it was a sacred ritual.
Agatha had started to get used to the soothing rhythm of it. The gentle clinks and frothing sound of Rio’s matcha preparation. The soft murmur of dogs snoring. The occasional scuffling of paws. And always, always, Caramel slinking over to rest his head insistently on her thigh until she gave in and scratched behind his ears. Begrudgingly. With quiet muttering about boundaries and personal space and what happened to all her dignity.
So what if she had fixed her coffee machine a couple weeks ago?
That didn’t mean anything.
It was just that Rio’s coffee was annoyingly good. That’s what Agatha told herself. Loudly. In her own head. And sometimes out loud to Señor Scratchy, who never looked particularly convinced.
And if the emergency texts had all but disappeared? Well. That was probably just because the plumbing finally gave up or the ghosts had moved on or—
No. She definitely wasn’t thinking too much about that either.
So when Agatha’s phone buzzed with a sudden alert from the building security app, it didn’t even register right away. She blinked at it, groggy from sleep, until the alert pinged a second time.
Motion Detected – Rear Entrance
Frowning, she opened the camera feed.
What she saw was Rio. Drenched from the rain, hoodie soaked through and sticking to her arms, expression twisted in sheer determined chaos, holding a rock and clearly two seconds away from committing a full-blown felony against the back door lock as Caramel patiently sat next to her. Agatha was on her feet in an instant.
She didn’t even put on a proper coat—just pulled the first jacket she saw and grabbed her keys, bolting down the street in the early morning drizzle, muttering curses under her breath as she wondered what the fuck Rio had in mind.
It was only five minutes away.
But it felt longer with each panicked thump of her heartbeat.
By the time she skidded around the corner, the sight that greeted her was, somehow, worse in person: Rio crouched awkwardly, muttering to herself like a goblin, still trying to jiggle the lock with one hand and clutching the rock with the other. Caramel now whining, clearly affected by Rio’s distress.
“Rio, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Agatha barked, breath catching on the last word as she came to a stop.
Rio nearly dropped the rock on her own foot. She turned, sheepish and drenched.
“Agatha?! Oh my God—wait—this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Agatha deadpanned, arms crossed despite the damp. “Because it looks exactly like you’re trying to break into my building with a stupid rock.”
“I lost my keys,” Rio said hurriedly. “I mean, I think I did. Maybe I left them at home. Maybe the dogs ate them. I don’t know. But they were not where I usually put them and I panicked. I needed to get in because I forgot to give Pickles his meds and Miso doesn’t like eating breakfast too late or she gets grumpy and—”
Agatha held up a hand. “Stop. Breathe.”
Rio did. Inhale. Exhale. Her hoodie clung like a second skin. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and embarrassment, and the way she was blinking at Agatha made something twist inside her chest.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Agatha asked, softer now.
Rio frowned. “I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve already been coming by a lot and I just figured…” She trailed off, expression uncertain.
Agatha stared at her. “You called me several times over the past months for the most ridiculous things, but with this you preferred to try your luck shattering my property’s lock instead of texting me to come open the door for you?”
Rio lifted her gaze back to Agatha. “It was more of a spur of the moment plan.”
Agatha let out a long, slow breath, stepping forward and batting her hand away gently, pressing the key on the metal lock, making the bolt click open with a mechanical sigh.
“Thank you” Rio muttered, but Agatha was already moving to disable the security alarm as the corners of her mouth were threatening treason.
Rio waited for her to finish before moving upstairs, Agatha and Caramel following right behind her. They stepped inside the coffee shop together, the surprising warmth of the place a welcome contrast to the damp chill outside.
The dogs stirred at the sound of the door but didn’t bark. As if they knew. As if they understood they were the real reason Agatha and Rio were standing there, soaked and slightly disheveled, before the sun had even fully risen.
Agatha reached out and flicked Rio’s forehead. Not hard, but enough to make her yelp.
“No more breaking and entering before six a.m. again,” she said, dry.
Rio grinned sheepishly. “Noted.”
They stood there for a moment, dripping quietly in the dim light of the café, both damp, both tired, both pretending this wasn’t the most ridiculous morning of their lives.
Agatha sighed, tugging off her glasses and attempting to dry them against the hem of her t-shirt, which, in hindsight, was a lost cause. Meanwhile, Rio rummaged through the drawers, muttering under her breath as she searched for Pickles’ meds.
“You better make me a big cup of coffee after this,” Agatha said, and her reward was Rio’s sudden laugh—relieved, bright, genuine.
“Don’t worry,” Rio said, crouching to coax Caramel into taking his pill. “You just gained a lifetime supply of coffee.”
“I thought we already talked about how bad for your business it is to keep giving people free coffee,” Agatha joked.
Rio shook her head and even though she wasn’t looking directly at her, Agatha could see the smile curling at Rio’s mouth. It was soft and warm and made something flutter low in her chest.
Once Pickles was settled, Rio moved to make Agatha’s coffee. And Agatha took the steaming cup without comment, hands curling around it gratefully. She sipped it slowly, letting the caffeine and the warmth undo some of the tension in her muscles.
By the time she finished it, she was dry enough to move without squelching. Rio had started feeding the other dogs, and despite herself, Agatha stuck around—helping refill water bowls, checking leashes, even folding a few of the dog blankets that had been scattered during the early-morning chaos.
It was only when the clock ticked closer to seven that Agatha finally sighed, cleaning some dog hair from her pajama pants. “I need to go shower and change before someone else sees me like this and decides to close this whole building down”
Rio looked up from where she was wiping the counter, big smile on her face. “Yeah, thanks for staying.”
Agatha waved her off with a muttered "Whatever, you owe me.” But her own smile lingered.
She rushed back to her place, showered quickly, and tugged on dry clothes, but before leaving again, she impromptuly decided to grab a spare sweater, some comfortable jeans and clean and dry socks. She tried to tell herself that it was not because she was worried, she just didn't want Rio getting everyone sick at their building if she caught a cold.
But when she returned at their usual early-morning hour and tossed the bundle at Rio’s head with a muttered, “You looked like a drowned rat earlier,” Rio only looked faintly embarrassed before accepting the clothes gratefully.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah,” Agatha agreed. “I know I didn't”
She let her eyes linger at Rio’s flushed face for only a beat longer, before leaving without another word.
The rest of the morning passed in quiet familiarity. And then the hours blurred. Agatha went back to her store, caught up on admin, glared at her to-do list and tried not to think too much about how her store felt too quiet now that she got used to the low hum of dogs and the occasional sound of Rio singing under her breath while restocking syrup bottles.
She didn’t hear from Rio again until late afternoon.
The bell over her shop door jingled, and in walked Yelena, moving with her usual brisk efficiency.
“Delivery,” Yelena announced, placing a cup of coffee and a small paper bag on Agatha’s front counter.
Agatha frowned. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Yeah, I know. This is just a little treat from the boss” Yelena gave her a wink and thumbs up, then turned to leave before Agatha could question anything.
She glanced around. Billy was helping someone near the back and didn’t seem to notice the commotion.
With a wary curiosity, Agatha reached for the bag. Inside was a single red velvet cookie—her favorite—and a small note, folded neatly.
She waited until Billy was fully out of sight, tucked into the back stockroom, before she opened it.
Thought you might need a caffeine fix. Added a little treat as a thank you. —R.
Agatha stared at it a beat too long.
“Damn, you two are hopeless.”
She jumped so hard she nearly spilled the coffee. When she looked up, already scowling, Jen was standing in front of the counter like she lived to deliver these moments of chaos.
The candle-maker, bane of Agatha’s existence and one of her oldest friends, had a smirk that could curdle milk.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Agatha said coolly, tearing a bite off the cookie trying to pretend she wasn’t at all flustered.
“Sure,” Jen said, not buying it for a second. “Because apparently it's totally normal now to get emergency coffee deliveries and little sweet treats with handwritten notes attached to it from our local café owner.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Is there a particular reason you’re bothering me?”
“Yes, actually. The locker in the back room is stuck, and I swear if I break a nail trying to get my jar of wax I’ll scream.”
Agatha groaned, setting down the cookie.
What is with her tenants and their locks today?
But still, she called out to Billy to watch the front and followed Jen out, muttering under her breath the entire way.
💚☕️🐶🍵💜
Agatha was finishing her last round through the building, running a final check on the back hallway lights—flickering again, of course—and making sure the doors to the storage units were locked, when she nearly walked straight into someone standing too close to the front entrance.
She blinked, startled, just as Rio stepped back with her hands raised in mock surrender.
“Shit,” Agatha muttered, catching herself on the wall. “What the hell are you doing standing in the dark like a horror movie villain?”
Rio grinned. “I was not in the dark, the automatic lights had just turned off. Why are you still here so late?”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Got caught up with other things, had to close up later than usual. But for real, what's your excuse?”
Rio shrugged, rocking back on her heels. “I was waiting for you.”
Agatha stared at her, unblinking. “For me? Why? Don’t tell me you locked yourself out again.” Her voice was teasing, but the smallest hint of worry snuck in under the sarcasm.
Rio rolled her eyes. “Nah. I was just wondering if you wanted to get some dinner?”
Agatha blinked again, as if the sentence hadn’t fully computed. “…Dinner?”
Rio smirked. “Yeah, dinner. You know—food? I’m assuming you consume actual nutrients in between your extreme intake of caffeine.”
Agatha sighed and rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched. “Yeah, I do.”
“Great. Let’s go, then. I’m paying.”
That made Agatha pause, hand still on the key she was about to use to lock up. “Is there a particular reason I’m being treated tonight?”
Rio glanced at her, then looked away in that half-shy, half-deflecting way that made Agatha’s heart do something stupid. “Just my way of saying thanks. For everything. For, you know, coming to help me today. And not murdering me in cold blood when you caught me about to go full criminal on your door.”
Agatha didn’t argue. She just gave a small nod and fell into step beside her as they walked down the quiet street, the evening air cool and still buzzing faintly with summer.
They passed a few closed storefronts and some late diners still sipping on their wine in restaurant patios. Rio didn’t say much, and Agatha didn’t press. It was comfortable, easier than she expected.
Somewhere between a crosswalk and the soft sounds of someone playing a saxophone down the block, Agatha asked, “So, where’s Caramel tonight? Or did you bribe someone at the restaurant we're going to keep him there while you came back to kidnap me?”
Rio laughed. “He’s having a sleepover with the others.”
Agatha blinked, then stopped walking entirely, laughing out loud—an unrestrained, rare sound that echoed off the buildings. “A sleepover?”
“Yep,” Rio said proudly. “He was feeling a little left out without the rest of the gang, so I just let him stay there, even gave them extra blankets. ”
Agatha just shook her head, still laughing as they continued down the street. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
“I prefer to think of it as creative pet management.”
They turned the corner, neon signs starting to glow against the dusky sky, and Agatha realized—with a reluctant, tiny smile—that this wasn’t the worst way to end a long day.
The place they ended up at was one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of restaurants, a small hole-on-the-wall Greek place with a faded blue awning and a handwritten chalkboard sign out front. Agatha was certain she’d passed it before without giving it a second thought.
The smell hit her first. Warm spices, garlic, a whisper of lemon and something roasting slow and perfect. Her stomach, now reminded it hadn’t had a real meal all day, growled in agreement.
Rio glanced back, grinning. “You're going to love this place, come on”
Inside, the place was dim and cozy. All dark wood, uneven stone floors, and a scattering of mismatched chairs that somehow felt intentional. Fairy lights hung above the counter. A short, round man with salt-and-pepper curls and a booming voice greeted them the moment they stepped in.
“Rio!” he called out with delight, throwing open his arms like she was a long-lost daughter. “You bring a date this time?”
Agatha raised an eyebrow, but Rio only laughed a little embarrassed as she stepped in for a warm hug. “Stelios, this is Agatha. Be nice.”
“Always nice,” he said, grinning at Agatha before gesturing them toward a quieter booth in the back corner. “I’ll bring the good olives.”
Agatha slid into the booth, slightly dazed.
“So… this is nice.”
Rio looked smug. “It is, huh? I found this place by accident a few years ago—got caught in the rain, ducked in for cover and ended up having the best dinner of my life. Never stopped coming back.”
Agatha nodded, scanning the small menu printed on recycled paper. “I’ve walked this block so many times. How the hell have I never noticed it?”
“Guess I’m lucky you have tunnel vision" Rio said with a shrug, making Agatha playfully roll her eyes.
“Stelios is a really nice guy. He adopted one of the dogs from the shelter, Baxter.”
Agatha blinked. “The Baxter? The one you said he used to open the kennel doors for the others?”
“The very same. Stelios loves him. Brings him to the park every morning.”
The food they ordered arrived not long after—simple, unfussy: two small Greek salads, crusty bread, and a steaming dish of moussaká to share. It smelled heavenly, the béchamel golden on top, eggplant soft and giving beneath the surface.
They ate without rushing. The background hum of Greek music played low through a dusty speaker near the kitchen, and the lights flickered a little when the oven kicked on, but none of that mattered.
Agatha found herself easing into it. Into the food. Into the quiet warmth of the place. Into Rio’s presence.
For someone so annoyingly childish and playful, Rio could also be startlingly sincere. When she spoke about the café and the dogs and the shelter, her eyes lit up with something fierce and earnest. She talked about fundraisers and vet partnerships and how she was wondering if Agatha and the rest of the coven would be willing to let her turn the back patio into a mini adoption fair during the summer.
Agatha, for all her best efforts, found herself listening. Really listening. Laughing, too. And, maybe worse, she kept talking too. Letting little things about herself slip out—stories from grad school, her childhood in Salem, her first apartment in New York where the pipes actually seemed haunted. Rio never pushed her to say more. She just… paid attention. Like she was cherishing every little bit of Agatha's story she was willing to share.
And that was somehow worse.
By the time they finished eating, Agatha had cleaned her plate, eating most of their moussaká, and was dangerously close to leaning her head on the table like a sleepy toddler. Her exhaustion had caught up with her like a crash.
She tried to stifle a yawn, but Rio noticed anyway.
“Come on, let's go, you're practically drooling,” Rio said with a soft smile, already waving Stelios over.
“I’m fine,” Agatha insisted, but the effect was ruined when she nearly missed the edge of the table trying to stand.
Rio paid—ignoring Agatha’s mild protest—and walked her out into the warm night air with a steady hand at her lower back. And Agatha realized she didn't mind at all.
Outside, it was quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that only happened on weekday nights in their part of the city.
Rio turned to her, both hands in her pockets
now. “C’mon. Let me walk you back. You look like you might fall asleep standing up”
Agatha sighed but didn’t argue. She didn’t want to. “Fine. But only because I'm just a couple of blocks away”
Rio grinned. “I wouldn't mind either way.”
Agatha quickly looked away, afraid Rio would see the faint blush on her face. But she let Rio fall into step beside her anyway, their shadows overlapping in the golden streetlight glow.
They walked in quiet tandem, the buzz of the city softened by the lateness of the hour—no cars honking, no people shouting into phones. Just the occasional clink of dishes from apartments above and the faint scent of someone grilling meat a few blocks over.
Agatha felt herself growing quieter with every step. Not out of tiredness, though the exhaustion was still present like a weight behind her eyes, but because something in her didn’t want this walk to end.
They reached her building faster than she expected. Too fast. The familiar bricks, the little crack by the side of the door, it was all there, familiar and signaling the end of something she wasn’t quite ready to let go of.
She stood there awkwardly, keychain dangling from her hand, but not moving to use it. Rio was looking at her with that relaxed, open kind of gaze Agatha still hadn’t figured out how to deflect.
"Do you want to come inside and meet Señor Scratchy?" she asked, blurting it out before she could think better of it.
Rio smiled at the offer, warm and sincere, but shook her head. “Maybe another day. You're dead on your feet. I shouldn't be keeping you longer.”
“Oh,” Agatha said, then quickly added, “Okay.” But she didn’t move. She could feel herself stalling, searching for an excuse to keep Rio there a little longer.
“This was nice,” she murmured. “We should do it again sometime.”
Rio’s smile widened, and there was something that looked suspiciously like a dimple on her left cheek. “Sure. It’s a date.”
Agatha felt her heart catch.
She found herself smiling too, because this was her cue. “So this wasn’t?”
Rio blinked, brows furrowing slightly. “Wasn’t what?”
“A date,” Agatha said, her voice low, barely brave enough to carry the words into the air before her brain screamed to take them back.
There was a beat of silence. And then—
“I mean…” Rio started, rubbing the back of her neck, suddenly flustered in a way Agatha hadn’t seen her before. “It can be —if you want it to be.”
Agatha bit her bottom lip, her heart thrumming now, far too fast for this to be anything casual. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound playful, even as nerves coiled tight in her belly. “Usually on dates, there’s a goodnight kiss. No?”
That made Rio pause. Just for a second. Her eyes flicked from Agatha’s eyes to her lips. And then she gave that maddening, familiar smirk—tongue poking her cheek, amusement written all over her face.
“Are you asking for a kiss, Ms. Harkness?” Rio teased, voice low and a little hoarse now, but she was already stepping impossibly closer, until the air between them felt like a live wire.
Agatha’s heart was in her throat, her skin buzzing where Rio’s breath brushed it. “Never mind, I take it ba—”
But she didn’t get the chance to finish.
Rio closed the distance and kissed her hard—no hesitation, no room left for second thoughts. Agatha barely had time to gasp before she was kissing back, fingers curling in the front of Rio’s sweater. Her sweater . Something warm and breathless unraveling in her chest.
The kiss was messy and sweet and all kinds of overdue.
When they finally broke apart, just enough to breathe, Agatha stayed close, her forehead resting against Rio’s.
“This was definitely not how I was expecting the night to end” Rio whispered, a little breathless herself.
Agatha chuckled softly, still dizzy. “Well, it wouldn't have if i hadn't said anything”
“Fair,” Rio murmured. “I’m glad you did though”
“Me too,” Agatha said, smiling again despite herself.
Rio leaned in once more—just a soft brush of lips this time—and then stepped back, eyes lingering.
“Okay, I really should go now,” she said, voice gentler now. “Goodnight, Agatha.”
“Goodnight, Rio,” she whispered, watching as Rio turned and walked away.
Agatha didn’t go inside right away. She stayed on the steps for a few more seconds, her fingers touching her lips, her heart still racing as she watched Rio’s figure disappear on the street. Only then she opened the door, still smiling to herself.
💚☕️🐶🍵💜
A few weeks after their first kiss. After whispered goodnights and stolen morning coffees, after too many “accidental” brushes of hands and the quiet, unmistakable joy of a slow-blooming something, Agatha found herself standing in the middle of an improvised adoption fair, smiling like an idiot.
The backyard of The Road building was alive with color and sound. Streamers in every shade of the rainbow waved in the light breeze, and the music Alice had carefully curated for the day pulsed gently from nearby speakers.
The whole coven had jumped at the chance to plan a Pride party, but when Rio mentioned the idea of combining it with a dog adoption fair, the others had lit up. It turned out that mixing adorable dogs with rainbow glitter and overpriced iced drinks was a near-foolproof recipe for foot traffic—and good press.
Rio had gotten together with the girls from the bakery she ordered from and they had provided them with cupcakes decorated with tiny paw prints on the frosting along with their usual treats, Jen had made special candles for the event, Lilia had joined forces with an in-costume Tofu to read people's fortune and Billy had helped Agatha set up a queer romance reading table under a canopy of fairy lights.
Agatha had even reached out to some other queer entrepreneurs in the area, giving the event a more expansive, community-driven feel. Their little corner of the city had never felt more alive.
As she entered the backyard she spotted Rio a few feet away, laughing with a couple of volunteers from the shelter as they walked a trio of excitable pups through the crowd. Rio wore one of her ridiculous dog-themed Pride shirts—this one had a cartoon french bulldog, who looked exactly like Pickles, wearing a trans flag cape—and was gesturing animatedly as she talked to a couple of teenagers interested in fostering.
But Agatha caught her attention drifting to a fluffier creature: a big white Samoyed lying calmly near a shaded booth, tongue lolling, tail wagging faintly. Agatha recognized her instantly, it was Cloud, from the stupid photocard Rio had given her months ago.
Rio had always talked about her with a soft kind of guilt, like she hadn’t been able to help her enough. The dog had been returned to the shelter twice and didn’t do well in loud environments. She was gorgeous, regal almost, but there was a cautious edge to the way she watched the crowd, slow to react to affection, sticking close to her handler’s legs.
But that seemed to change the moment Agatha approached.
Cloud lifted her head, ears perking. Then, slowly, deliberately, she stood, took two steps forward, and wagged her tail in a full-body kind of motion Agatha hadn’t seen her do for anyone else. Her mouth opened in what looked almost like a grin.
“Hey there, cutie,” Agatha murmured, crouching to scratch behind the dog’s ears with careful fingers.
Cloud responded by licking her hand enthusiastically.
“She likes you,” came Rio’s voice behind her, making Agatha fall on her butt. She pulled her hand back too fast, earning a soft, questioning whine from the dog.
“Well, she clearly has taste,” Agatha said smoothly, ignoring the slight flush on her cheeks as she stood up.
Rio laughed, and the sound made Agatha’s heart flutter. She felt Rio’s arms wrap around her from behind, gentle and grounding, resting her chin on Agatha's shoulder as they both watched Cloud sit patiently in front of them.
Agatha reached into her coat pocket and found what she was looking for—a forgotten dog treat, leftover from bribing Caramel that morning. She offered it to Cloud, who took it delicately from her hand, tail thumping again.
“Do you think she’ll find her family today?” Agatha asked, her voice softer now, tinged with a hesitant worry.
“I don’t know,” Rio admitted. “People seem scared of her. She’s… a little misunderstood”
Agatha frowned. “Poor thing. That must be hard, I hope she finds a home soon”
There was a long pause where they just stayed there watching the dog eat the treat.
And then Rio said a little too casually. “Well… if you’re that worried, maybe you should just adopt her.”
Agatha turned her head so fast she almost knocked into Rio. “Don’t be ridiculous. I live in a shoebox. I have no place to keep her.”
Rio gave her a knowing look. “We could keep her with the Coffee Gang overnight, and during the day she can hang out with you at the store. I mean, I'm sure she’s going to cause less damage than Señor Scratchy did”
Agatha had to laugh at that, thinking of her chaotic rabbit and his latest campaign of furniture destruction.
She looked back at Cloud. The dog was watching her with soft, intelligent eyes. Patient. Hopeful. Tail wagging gently like she was waiting for Agatha's answer too.
Agatha pondered for a moment then with a long and dramatic sigh, she said. “Fine. But you’re helping me. I have no idea how to take care of a dog.”
Rio didn’t answer. She’d already moved forward, crouching beside the dog with a grin. “Did you hear that, Cloud? You just got yourself a forever home!”
Agatha watched as her stupid, beautiful girlfriend tried to waltz with a dog twice her size, tripping a little as Cloud licked her face with glee.
How did she end up here?
Cloud broke free from Rio and trotted over to Agatha, leaning her big head against her knee with unmistakable affection. Agatha knelt to meet her, laughing softly as she got another surprise lick across her cheek.
She stayed there for a moment, scratching behind Cloud’s ears, utterly unbothered by the dirt on her jeans or the lipstick smudge on the dog's head.
When she looked up, Rio was standing a few feet away, watching her with a smile that made something in Agatha’s chest twist.
And for once, Agatha realized she didn’t mind the chaos at all.
💚🐶🐰🐶💜