Chapter Text
The low but extremely annoying squeaks echoed throughout the room, so irritating that not even the sound of the music blaring at full volume could completely drown them out. Almeric, trying to maintain what little composure he had left (for it had already been two hours since he sat down at his laptop to work, vainly hoping that perhaps pressing his earbuds deep into his ears might help) ignoring the fact that he’d been trying that ever since he sat down there.
What at first seemed like a good thing ended up turning into his worst nightmare.
Although having a werewolf boyfriend had been a dream he cherished for as long as he could remember, the harsh reality is that it’s no easy at all. Or, at least, he’d ended up with one who was far too stubborn and bitter (which, for better or worse, suited his own personality all too well).
Tank, his boyfriend, was stressed, according to the doctor himself. Even with that notoriously difficult personality of his, Almeric quickly noticed the change from the moment he stopped eating his favourite snacks. And, despite his reluctance, he forced him to see a doctor. Although he doesn’t entirely agree with the diagnosis.
Three days ago, after work and whilst thinking about how to help, he came across what would later become the source of his subsequent headaches: a bright red, bone-shaped small toy. It was at a garage sale run by a friendly elderly lady, and he didn’t hesitate to buy it for the generous sum of two dollars (and he could have sworn he’d seen the exact same toy for five dollars in any other shop) and returned home happy. A peculiar feature of this toy was that it squeaked when you squeezed it, which Almeric thought would be fun.
And indeed it is, only it wasn’t for him.
At first, for the first few hours, it was acceptable. But by nightfall it wasn’t anymore.
He could still hear Tank enthusiastically gnawing on his bone from the living room, whilst he was upstairs trying to escape the noise.
Right now, Tank was not far from him, sitting quietly on the sofa; carefree watching tv, with his beloved toy between his teeth. Squeaking, like the tick-tock of an old clock.
He was trying, with all his might, to stay calm. There was no need to get upset, was there? His boyfriend was feeling better, after all… If he was happy then he could be too…
Then, just as he was offering himself words of encouragement, a very, VERY loud squeak echoed throughout the room, so annoying and shrill that it made him shudder for a few seconds.
"FOR WATCHER'S SAKE, TANK!" he shouted, to his absolute relief. He came to his senses a few seconds later, still believing it wasn’t worth getting angry over this. "…Could you just stop NOW??" he tried to say as calmly and kindly as possible, like an adult telling off a child, but his passive-aggressiveness was all too obvious.
Tank looked him in the eye for a few minutes. He wasn’t angry, which was usually the case when Almeric raised his voice at him. In fact, he was, strangely, calm… Too calm for Almeric’s liking. It was almost as if he were mocking him or, at best, simply didn’t understand why it was such a big deal.
He was still running the bone over his fangs, without biting down on it. Seen through his boyfriend’s eyes, he really did look like a puppy. Adorable? Not right now.
"Uh-huh" was all he deigned to say, without really paying much attention. He simply proceeded to ignore what had happened and turned his attention back to the tv.
Although not entirely satisfied, Almeric turned his attention back to his laptop and carried on with his work. Even without that annoying noise, the atmosphere remained tense and he found it hard to concentrate. Well, just for him.
"This thing really works" Tank broke the (uncomfortable) silence, Almeric just rolled his eyes.
"Oh, really?" he remarked sarcastically, whilst typing hard and fast on the keyboard.
Now what echoed through the room was the sound of Almeric’s fingers frantically pounding the keyboard, driven by stress and frustration. This was particularly surprising, given that this specific laptop had a silent keyboard, which he bought specifically for that very reason.
Tank watched the scene with enthusiasm, running his bone over his fangs. Sometimes he sink it into them, but without pressing too hard. Even though something in his brain told him this was the perfect opportunity to keep teasing him (and he found it amusing, of course), well, even he knew that Almeric could be a right pain in the ass when he was angry enough.
If there was one thing they had in common, it was that they had very creative ways of getting on each other’s nerves. Neither of them was exactly a "saint" in the first place. Even Tank, throughout these three days, could sense a certain discomfort in his boyfriend on certain occasions. But perhaps work (because of course he certainly deny being entirely to blame) had been particularly difficult today, which might have caused him to snap.
"Ha" he began, something had occurred to him. "Looks like someone needs this more than I do"
Almeric wasn’t quite sure what annoyed him more: the snide remark, or the fact that, when he turned round, Tank was holding the damned bone between his fingers. He was moving it from side to side, driving his point clear. He clenched his fists, more out of embarrassment than anger. It was the helplessness of having nothing with which to fight back. Perhaps he could spit out a few fleeting insults, but his mind was so weary that not even a simple, crude "diot" could pass his lips. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it.
"Come and sit with me for a while" he said, patting the remaining space on the armchair with his large paws. It was a genuine, and Almeric wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. There was something about Tank wanting to be affectionate towards him whilst actively annoying him. Which annoyed him particularly because it was exactly the same thing he did to Tank. At times like this, one of them always has to give in, put their ego and pride aside and just go with the flow; but, of course, it wasn’t fun when it happened to him in particular.
Perhaps it was stupid to keep thinking about it… The offer was more than tempting and, under different circumstances, he would have accepted it without a second thought.
He takes a deep breath, defeated and too tired to keep torturing himself over something he actually started himself.
He tells himself it’s not worth it. He takes off his headphones, switches off his laptop, carefully gets up from his chair and heads for the sofa.
He simply flops down, like someone rushing to their bed as soon as they get home after a stressful day. As soon as they’re together, Tank rushes to wrap his arms around him, letting his boyfriend feel and stroke his soft, dark brown fur.
A (much-needed) comfortable silence settles in for the first time in days. The noise from the tv served only as a reminder that the house was occupied, but neither of them paid it the slightest attention. How could they, anyway?
"I’m going to break that shit"
Tank growled.
His partner could only snuggle closer into the softness of his fur. "I’ll buy you something else"
"…Make sure it’s the same colour, I like that one"
"I can’t promise anything"