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By now, Grace should have accepted that most unpleasant surprises end well for him. He'd woken up on a spaceship and found his soulmate. He'd discovered a xenonite leak and found his way back home. He'd been ambushed with his most complicated relationship lightyears from where she should be and he'd wound up with his first human companion in years. He should stop questioning it when life decides to throw surprises at him.
Just because he should doesn't mean he will.
Like when life decides that Stratt should stumble upon his puppy drawer in the two seconds he steps away from her. He should accept it. He should realize it's not all that big of a deal considering she'd been the person to guide him through that discovery, but it still makes his cheeks burn to see her looking through his collection of collars.
That's funny. He hasn't felt shame in a while. Add that to the list of drawbacks about suddenly being forced to spend time around a human again.
"That's private!" he mumbles, hurrying over and closing the drawer.
She doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. She just smirks up at him and opens the drawer again. "Private?"
He could close the drawer again. He could put his foot down and lead her away and insist she stop. He could ask Rocky to move everything to his side of the barriers or make him a lock. He could do a lot of things. It all feels far away and impossible now, watching her rifle through his collection of collars. A few are from back on Earth, having been packed up in his belongings. Most are what Rocky's made for him over the years. He has more than any pup could ever need, but Rocky keeps making them and Grace is never going to turn him down.
A few of his toys are in this drawer too. The well-loved ball he likes to chase, the bone to chew on Rocky had made from repurposed rubber off the Hail Mary after Grace chipped a tooth trying to gnaw on an edge of the xenonite barrier between them, the shortened piece of tether they use for tug of war sometimes. It's more than he'd had back on Earth, though he doesn't blame Stratt for that. Things were different then.
Grace gives up on trying to keep her away from them, but he still pouts. "I'm allowed privacy even if we are stuck in a bubble together."
"You are," she agrees. She pulls out one of the collars, yellow and worn and older than anything else in the drawer. "I wasn't sure if you remembered."
"You put two collars and a chew toy in my bag," he reminds her. "Sort of would jog anyone's memory, wouldn't it?"
"It could have been your childhood dog's, for all you know."
"There was a dog tag with both our names on it."
Stratt shrugs. "I've learned not to take anything for granted."
Grace grumbles to himself and sits. He still hates being further than arm's length from her, but the thought of standing over while she digs through his drawer is embarrassing enough to encourage a bit of space between them. She entertains herself for a few minutes, inspecting all the new gear he's acquired. He might be embarrassed, but he can't blame her for looking. Rocky's handiwork is fantastic, even in something like this.
When she comes to join him on the couch, she still has that old yellow collar in her hand. Grace tries to ignore it, even as she sets it down on the coffee table between them.
"You and Rocky, hmm?" she asks.
"You already knew that."
"You know that's not what I'm asking."
Grace sighs. He did know. Just like he knew she wasn't going to just let him get away with being willfully obtuse. He nods. "He looks after me sometimes. He likes it, actually. Always says my leaking is cuter as a pup."
"You do make for a cute puppy," Stratt agrees.
That does nothing to help his blush. "I guess. It was nice on the ship when we were on our way back to Erid. I almost needed it to survive, like you and I. Anything to help pass the time. And once we got settled here, neither of us wanted to stop."
"I don't fault him for that," she says.
That makes Grace’s stomach turn in an unpleasant way. He knows she hadn’t sent him away because she’d been sick of him or because it brought her any joy. He’s had years to make peace with that. It doesn’t stop the primal fear that runs through him, the grief at remembering how they’d parted ways.
Seeing her in person again had brought it all back, but he’s doing pretty well with it. All things considered. It doesn’t stop him from squirming, though.
She doesn’t press the issue. “I suppose you haven’t had much time to play recently, have you, pup?”
And gosh, he still feels out of sorts about all of this, but hearing her call him that has him squirming for different reasons. Grace can all but feel the puppy, soft and eager and desperate for love, clawing at the edges of his mind. It’s like freaking Beetlejuice. Say his name and he’ll be banging down your door.
He really hasn’t had much time to play these last few weeks. Not since they’d gotten the first transmission from Stratt’s ship. Everything had been a nightmare of preparations and then she was actually here and it’s not as though it made it any easier.
“I don’t have a secret second habitable dome somewhere, so, uh, no. And Rocky’s still not the happiest about everything, so… Definitely no.” Grace’s fingers drum anxiously against his knee. He misses his puppy time. He misses Rocky. He misses whatever used to be between him and Stratt, before there were years’ worth of discomfort and awkwardness. He really doesn’t want to think about all this right now. He doesn’t want to think about much at all. He hasn’t felt brave since Stratt showed back up in his life, but he tries to channel some of it now. “I don’t suppose you’re offering?”
Stratt doesn’t tease or laugh. She doesn’t even smirk. She grabs the collar off the table, slow and deliberate. She’s giving him time to change his mind. Everything they do these days is at a snail’s pace, always waiting for someone to pull the brakes. They haven’t yet.
Grace, in fact, hasn’t wanted anything so badly in what feels like years. He has to bite back a whine as he watches her unclasp the collar and set it on her lap. Is this pathetic? It’s harder to know after all the time away from other humans. It probably is. He’s sure she doesn’t mind.
She gestures at the floor in front of her. “Come here, puppy.”
He doesn’t scramble down. Not at all. He eases down on the floor in a very calm and collected manner, thank you very much. No one has ever been more chill about puppy time in the whole entire universe.
She does laugh now, just a fond little chuckle. It doesn’t bother him like it might have a few minutes ago. Mostly, it warms him from the inside out to know he can make her laugh like this. He loves to make her laugh. He loves to watch the years of stress and worry wash off her by doing nothing more than just existing. Who wouldn’t love that?
Grace kneels in front of her and leans forward expectantly. She winds the collar around his neck and buckles it into place, as snug as he likes it when they play like this. She pats him on the head as soon as it’s in place. The pressure of leather around him, the metal tag against his collarbone, the fingers in his hair. It all grabs him and has him tumbling down, down where it’s safe and cozy and fun and all he has to worry about is being a sweet puppy for her.
He lets out a content little huff and rests his chin on her knee. When he raises his gaze up to her, she’s smiling at him. He likes that.
“There’s my sweet puppy Riley,” Eva says.
Even with the years apart, she still knows how to scratch his head just right. Grace melts right into it, whining and pushing his head up into her. He can’t get enough. He hasn’t been able to get even close to his fill of human touch since she’d turned up, but this especially, he thinks he might just die without.
She indulges him, stroking through his hair and behind his ears and under his chin the way she knows he likes. Grace is all but panting. He didn’t think he’d ever get head scratches like this again. He hopes it never ends.
He wants more. He really wants more. Grace shakes her hand off his head, but only so he can climb onto the couch. He’s excited, practically shaking with it, which makes his movements unsteady - like a gangly puppy, Eva used to say - but he makes it up easily enough. He clambers onto her lap and plops himself down, panting and whining for more.
There remains, of course, a shred of common sense deep inside him that knows to be cautious. She’s older than him, older than he’s become with the time dilation, and he could never live with himself if he hurt her. He’s careful to make sure his knees, firmly planted on either side of her, bear the brunt of his weight and even when he leans against her in his desperate plea to snuggle closer, that tiny bit of common sense in the back of his mind keeps an ear out for any signs of discomfort from her. He’s not really a lapdog, even if he wants to be. Really, the best option would probably be not to climb on her at all, but that was never going to happen once this door was opened.
It’s still not quite right. Grace hesitates a second before pulling back long enough to get out of his shirt. It’s more difficult than it should be, fuzzy minded as he is. He swears the shirt fights back. Thankfully, Eva helps with getting it over his head, even if she seems startled by this whole display. He used to not be the sort of puppy who climbed on people without permission.
He barks and wiggles like he has a tail, happy to finally be closer. He always wants to be this close, with their skin pressed against each other and their breaths intermingling and their souls touching and with any luck, passerbys won’t be able to tell where he ends and she begins. As a human, he still thinks too much about this. He’s self conscious and he second guesses himself and the slightest thing can send him running. He’s spent weeks desperate for nothing but human touch and he continues to be the only thing standing in his way.
As Eva’s sweet puppy, though? This is easy. Wanting isn’t so scary when he’s like this.
Eva pats down his sides, hard enough to avoid tickling. Grace still wiggles back and forth, though, pressing left and right and forward like he might be able to sink into all of it at once.
“This is new,” she remarks.
Grace barks once. He nuzzles down against her neck and, because it always makes Rocky laugh, licks a long line from her shoulder to just below her ear. She does laugh, though it seems to be more from shock than anything else.
“You’ve gone positively feral in my absence, haven’t you?”
It’s not really a good word and if he had sunk into this place out of necessity, like those endless stressful days of the project, it might have been enough to send him spiraling. But he hadn’t and it doesn’t. She seems more amused than not as she says it and that’s enough to keep him cheerful. Grace just barks, all too pleased with himself, and flops down next to her on the couch, on his back so his front is exposed.
He misses being pressed impossibly close, but the belly rubs she provides are enough to make up for it. He gnaws on a corner of the throw pillow while she does, which earns him a gentle scolding. He yips once, to acknowledge he’s heard it, and goes right back to chewing.
Eva lets it go. She instead keeps rubbing his belly and running her fingers along his body. She traces his scars, both the ones from the mission and the decorative ones he's earned since settling into Erid, and he doesn't even mind. They're more sensitive than the rest of his body, they make him shiver sometimes when she ghosts her fingers along, but that's okay. He likes shivering under her touch.
"That's my sweet Riley boy," she murmurs.
Her fingers linger on Rocky's handprint on his forearm. Grace thinks that might bother him some other time. Right now he just preens from it. It's almost like getting to have them both at the same time.
He shifts around eventually, so his head is back on her lap. He likes how she ruffles his hair and runs her hand down the star map on his back. He likes feeling safe and small under her hands. Just a sweet puppy, nothing to worry about except having fun and being loved on. This was nice when it was an escape from the project weighing him down, but it's even better when he knows he'll get to ease out of it and right back into a life that doesn't ask too much of him.
Grace nuzzles into her hand for a few more minutes before deciding he really would like to play. He hops off the couch and wanders over to his still open drawer. His ball is near the top, easy enough to grab onto and drop back on Eva's lap. He barks as soon as his mouth is free, already impatient to have it thrown.
"Eager thing, aren't you?" she asks.
He barks again. He whines and wiggles and paws at her legs. Doesn't she understand? He wants to fetch.
"You can't have been entirely untrained in our time apart," Eva muses. "Let's see... Clearly, you still know speak. Can you show me sit?"
Grace huffs out a breath. This is stupid. It's his ball and she should just throw it. He goes to grab it, but she tuts and lifts it out of his reach. He lets out a little grumble and sits back on his heels for all of half a second before springing back up and making another attempt for the ball.
Eva laughs. "Goodness. It's worse than I thought. Just this once, but we'll be shaping you back up, Riley, don't be mistaken."
Grace ignores that, because she throws his ball and that's far more interesting. He chases after it, managing to grab it just before it could roll under the kitchen table. Armando buzzes overhead as he trots along beneath him. Grace can't imagine much that would be better than this.
He drops his ball back on her lap and she indulges him with a few more throws. He's sweaty and panting before long. He deposits the ball back to her one last time before slumping against her legs, letting his head fall into her lap. Should they go out to the water? Maybe they should go to the water. Grace loves spending his puppy time just splashing around. She would probably go even further out in the water than Rocky does! Wouldn't that be fun?
Eva pats his hair down. "Are you ready to try again?"
Grace looks up at her. His head tilts to the side curiously. Try again? Another round of fetch? No, no, he's much too tired for that. He noses the ball out of her lap, letting it tumble to the ground out of her reach.
"Silly puppy. That was rude. And not what I meant," she corrects. "You want to be my good boy, don't you?"
That gets his attention. Grace straightens up again, though he stays pressed against her leg. He does want to be her good boy. He loves being her good boy. Loves it more than anything. He barks in the affirmative. The wiggling starts up again. If he had a tail, he'd probably have sprained it by now.
"Sit," Eva commands.
Grace plops down, sitting back on his heels with his hands between his legs to support himself. His tongue lolls out, happy and breathless. He keeps his gaze fixed on Eva and even though he very badly wants to jump back up on her lap or go off in search of toys and treats, he keeps still.
She goes easy on him. It's only a few seconds before she ruffles his hair and pats on her lap to invite him back up. Grace doesn't need to be asked twice. He climbs up again, pressing into her pets eagerly.
"Good boy," she praises. "I knew my good boy was still in there. What a pretty sit, Riley. Good pup."
And if he was excited earlier, he's positively vibrating now. He yips and barks and wiggles. He's back to nuzzling against her like they might melt into one another. He wouldn't mind that. He'd like it very much. Almost as much as he likes being called a good boy. He might have saved two planets with his intelligence, but that pales in comparison to being told he's a good boy for sitting so pretty for his mama.
Grace snuggles against her until he gets his fill. He doesn't think he'll ever actually get his fill of touch now that he has it back, but the need isn't quite so desperate anymore. She's patient with him, petting him and stroking his hair and giving him endless praise for being her good boy. Foggy brained as he is, Grace can't even remember a time when they haven't been like this, just a sweet puppy and his mama.
"Are you tuckered out, pup?" Eva asks, once she notices him starting to lag. Grace's responding bark is interrupted by a yawn. Eva presses a kiss to the top of his head and untangles them so she can stand. "Let's get you to bed."
Grace crawls along next to her, happy to have her to follow. She helps him climb up into his bed and wraps him up in his quilt. It's cozy, but he wants more than just his blanket. He whines pitifully until she joins him. She's saying something, but half asleep and feeling as puppy as he is, Grace can't make sense of it. He doesn't even care to try. He slides up against her as soon as she's in bed, curling up with his head against her chest. She keeps petting and scratching his hair and really, what other choice does he have but to fall right to sleep?
He thinks he hears her call him a good boy as he does and he drifts off, certain he's the warmest, safest puppy on Erid.