(mostly) whump

“It’ll just be a quick trip into town, but I think it’ll be good to get out. I’m going to get you some weights so you can work out at home.”

Col’s serious expression faltered a little with surprise. “Really, Sir, that’s not necessary. I can train with anything.”

“Think of it as a nice treat, then.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you. How can I pay you back?”

Linden gave him a smile. “By carrying them instead of me.” 

They stopped and waited at the bus stop, the only two people there. Linden knew that Col hadn’t walked very far recently, and he didn’t want to put too much strain on his legs; they were streaked with scar tissue which sometimes caught the light and shone against the rest of his skin, which was in some places puffy and red, and in other places crossed with thin cuts which had turned a pale lilac. 

Col nodded. He always did so very quickly, often before Linden had even finished speaking. He had a strong suspicion that Col would get into terrible trouble if his old owner thought he wasn’t paying attention, and with the way he’d occasionally seen Col stare into nothingness, perhaps this had happened a lot. 

“It’s always busy, though, so we might need to sit separately. Is that okay with you, Col?”

He was relieved when Col paused, seeming to genuinely consider this. “Yes, Sir. That’s fine.” 

“If we do, you can take the seat further to the back. That way you can still see me. You’ll know that I’m alright, and you’ll be able to see when to get off.”

Linden cringed at sounding so self-important, but he knew it would be the first thing on Col’s mind. If this had reassured him at all, it didn’t show on his face. 

. . .

It’s not like I have a choice, thought Col. Other guard dogs, ones that were bigger and better and more trusted, would bark at someone to move, to let him sit by his Master. My place is at my Master’s side, he repeated in his head without fully thinking about it. The mantra was so old it came naturally now. But Col wasn’t good enough. Not even close. 

The bus rolled to a stop (after Col had flinched when Master put his arm out to hail it) and it was clear they would indeed have to split up. He found a seat towards the back as he’d hoped, and watched as Master flashed him a smile from up ahead. 

They made more stops than he’d anticipated, the geography of the bus changing each time, taking on parents pushing prams and letting off elderly women with dogs, until Col’s neighbour had motioned for him to let them get past and he had stood, ducking his head, watching them leave to make sure they didn’t do anything alarming near his Master. He moved to take the window seat.

This left Col with a space beside him, and his instincts told him to have his Master fill that space. But how? Col, who was still a new purchase and needed to prove himself, suddenly sagged under his self-doubt. He’d have to call out for him, or get up and go over, both of which would cause a scene. He’d be telling him what to do. He’d be assuming that Master even wanted to be sat next to him – maybe it was a welcome break, and Col was expected to keep him safe from this distance. Maybe trying to close the gap between them would seem weak. 

It still mystified him that humans hurt one another when pets existed, but it wasn’t for him to question. He wasn’t so naïve as to have forgotten about revenge, old grudges, power trips, terrorism, self-defence. And no one cared if their pet was killed. A lover or a friend would need to be sacrificed to really cause some grief.

He realised, stomach suddenly dropping, that if Master’s brother came to any harm, Col would have failed in his duties, would have failed to protect his owner. How could I guard Vik, too? he wondered. He’d have to find out where Vik lived, and familiarise himself with his entire neighbourhood, but he could hardly drag his owner along for this, so where would he get the opportunity? How would he ever be trusted after he had attacked him, anyway? Col felt stupid for even considering it. Master would probably judge that the biggest threat to Vik right now was his own pet.

He hadn’t realised how deeply he was considering this until a voice from the real world brought him back to the surface.

“Am I alright to sit here?” asked a young woman stood above him, and Col allowed himself just one second to realise that she meant the seat beside him, and more, that she was speaking to him directly. 

I asked you a question, his old owner said, so clear and commanding he could have been just behind him, and if you’re not gagged then I expect an answer. 

Except he wasn’t collared, or leashed, or gagged, and he wasn’t with his Master, and she wasn’t asking him to perform any of his normal duties as a pet. She didn’t know what he was, Col realised, giddy and scared at the same time. 

He nodded, not meeting her eye, and forced himself to speak. “Y-Yes, of course.”

“Thanks,” she replied pleasantly, and sat, pulling her satchel flat onto her lap. Col tried not to stare as she opened it and slid a laptop out. He pulled his gaze away, but a sudden movement caught his eyes yet again and he couldn’t help but look. His lifetime of training meant he had to look. 

Her laptop had a presentation on it, and with each slide the woman was gesturing, mouthing words silently. She was practising, Col realised. He suddenly felt himself so intrigued by this stranger’s life, just for a few seconds. This stranger who had spoken to him like a person. Was she a student? He didn’t dare read the words, he wouldn’t stare that brazenly, but he could see the unmistakeable shapes that only graphs made. A few rows in front of them both, Col’s Master sat safely, undisturbed. It was fine. Col hadn’t messed up by looking. 

This woman was going somewhere, with her normal human life, and it was as if a light switch had been flicked, the way Col became unbearably aware that every single person around him had a normal life of their own, too. Where were they all going? What were they thinking about? The bus was rattling down widening suburban streets. Each house would have an occupant, maybe even a whole family, or a couple. Were they happy? How many pets were there?

His fingers curled involuntarily as his training kicked in – any stretch of being lost in thought inevitably ended badly. Col blinked, again, again, as he heard his old owner screaming at him. 

You will LISTEN when you are spoken to, you slave, you useless piece of junk, you fucking dog. Pets do not have ‘thoughts’. You do not think unless it’s to follow orders. Do you fucking hear me this time? 

Yes, Master, Col thought, stamping out any more daydreaming. He fixed his eyes on the back of his current Master’s head and kept them there. 

Eventually, Master stood up, turning to Col just briefly to catch his eye, and the two stepped off.

“Was that alright, Col?” Master asked when they were both standing on the pavement, watching the bus rejoin the flow of traffic.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, thinking of nothing but his Master’s face before him. 

. . . 

As the pair walked through town, Linden noticed the space between them shrinking, until Col was almost pressed against his left shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, softly, and Col’s eyes darted to his. Nothing else changed, and Linden found it somewhat unnerving. Like a ventriloquist’s dummy. “Did you used to go out, much?” 

“No, Sir. The pub, or the racecourse, sometimes. I usually stayed in my cage.”

“But I thought you were a guard dog,” Linden said, his heart sinking when he saw the look on Col’s face. Okay, shouldn’t have said that.

“I am, Sir, I am. You can- you can trust me. I swear I’ll keep you safe. My old owner just… just had to get me trained, first. But I am trained, now.”

“Of course you are,” he said, feeling gross. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

“Anything, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“I know,” he said, trying to sound decisive. “I’m not going to get rid of you, I hope you can understand that.”

Col just nodded, but Linden felt like he had to ask this now, rather than let it fester.

“You were caged?”

Funnily enough, this didn’t seem to upset Col in the way he’d feared it might. Linden could almost describe the look Col gave him as quizzical. 

“Yes, Sir. I’m just a dog. But-! But I’m so grateful, so grateful for my- the bed, and the room. It’s very generous, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t own a cage and I’m not going to buy one. There’s no chance of that in my house.”

It wasn’t too busy in town, which was ideal. Their bus was always rammed, running through the main arteries of the district, but the hospital and the train station was where it spat out most of its cargo. It was term time, midweek, midday. Linden watched two cyclists wave to one another as they passed by. Turning to Col, he saw him looking at pigeons on a fence, one pruning the other. 

“Aw,” Linden said, making Col flinch. 

“S-Sorry, Sir. I’m paying attention.”

“I know. You can look. Oh, here, do you see that dog? He always sits in the window up there.”

Linden pointed past Colton’s face to a brindle whippet, which was curled up on a strategically placed dog bed, keeping an eye on the passers-by. “People call him Nosy Nigel.”

Linden wasn’t expecting a reply and he didn’t get one. Col nodded, then turned back to face the road. 

The curve of the hill had flattened during their ride, and this too would be easier for Col’s legs. 

“If walking becomes painful, you need to tell me,” Linden instructed him. “So we can go back home.” 

“I won’t let you down like that, Sir,” Col replied, keeping his voice neutral.

“It wouldn’t let me down,” he said, a little firmer. “I don’t want you to be in pain. Can you promise?”

“Yes, Sir. I promise.”

Now it was Linden’s turn to be quiet, and as they walked on, he thought he saw Col glancing at him, his eyebrows drawn tightly together.

-

Fifteen minutes later they were heading through the centre of town and Col had the boxed dumbbells held fast under one arm. Linden had made Col wait by the door to the sports shop when he paid, so Col wouldn’t be able to hear the price. They were hardly expensive, but he didn’t want Col to have it hanging over him. As they left, Linden didn’t think he’d been thanked so many times in his life. 

“We could get a coffee, if you fancy it,” Linden said, knowing they were about to pass his favourite cafe in town. 

“Yes, Sir, you should get whatever you like.”

“Would you like one?”

“I should keep one arm free, Sir, if that’s okay.”

Linden hummed an acknowledgement. That was good, he told himself. Col had told him what would make him most comfortable. He wondered what threats, if any, Col was picking out from their unremarkable walk around town. The cafe faced a small town square, in the centre of which was a once-grand statue of a general or soldier of some sort, with a traffic cone balanced on his head. Beyond him was a bakery, a newsagents, a chippy, a Polish grocer’s, in a neat row with houses on their second floors. It was normal - it was home. 

Their pace had slowed since they started out, and Linden decided to call it a day - he was well aware that Col would never admit if his legs were hurting. They’d done well - he got what he came for and Col hadn’t lashed out or scared anyone. 

“You know what… let’s head on home. We’ll both be able to have a hot drink in peace. Yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

. . .

Col grit his teeth, feeling his jaw pulse, forcing himself to ignore the ache steadily growing in his feet. The pain shot up his legs with each step. It felt like there were screws in his ankles, driven in good and deep, and even the smallest movement made them reverberate off his bones like a church bell. How could he stay alert? How could he be ready for anything, any threat, checking every angle and street and person they walked past? His head was spinning with the responsibility.

His foot came down hard. It took everything not to gasp in pain; he was aware he was slowing down, and the clock was ticking before Master noticed what a defective nothing he’d accidentally bought. 

I told you to admit it when your legs hurt, Colton heard Master say, his soft voice finally cracking in frustration. You thought you could hide it? That you’d carry on like this, trying to fool me, forever? 

Hurry the fuck up. I’ll decide what to do with you at home. 

Col saw possibilities playing in his mind like the young woman’s presentation. Each new slide carried a new, and equally likely, outcome once Master got fed up with him. The cage, the darkness, the whip, being thrown out entirely. The worst scenarios always ended with him alone and scared.

He came back to reality with his heart pounding. What had made him resurface? He looked over at his Master and saw that they’d come to a stop. Master was staring at something just behind Col’s head, squinting. 

“Oi, oi!” Col heard a familiar voice shout.

“I knew it was you!” Master replied, patting Col on the shoulder gently and indicating for him to turn around. 

Vik stopped his car in front of them, leaning out of his window with a smile. “Hey, guys. You alright? Done a tour of the town?”

“Yeah, just bought some weights,” Master replied, returning Vik’s casual wave. Col was frozen by his side, trying to find a neutral spot to cast his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do with aggravate Vik. 

“Oh, great stuff! I assume they’re for you, Col?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Col stammered, not expecting to be addressed directly. Wouldn’t Vik be sick at the sight of him? 

“We’re just heading to get the bus back,” Master explained. Vik scoffed.

“I’ll give you a lift.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Col, you sit in the back, it’s cleaner back there.”

Col could see that the front passenger seat was host to a lanyard, an empty crisp packet, a phone charger and an unopened packet of socks. Master was already pulling open the door and laughing at the mess, which Vik breezily said he could push into the footwell. Col opened the back door and slid inside. 

“You’re going to lose all this stuff. It’ll go under the seat and you’ll never find it again.”

“I won’t, I’ve got a very complex system of storage going here. You wouldn’t understand it.”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Just the gym. Sounds like you’re gonna have a home gym set up pretty soon.”

“Oh yeah, premium spot. Hundred quid a month. I’ll be your personal trainer.”

“Ha! You’d be the worst personal trainer ever. You’d probably lie down on the bench and fall asleep.”

“You look like you’ve been sleeping in the gym, look at those flimsy arms. For shame.”

Vik laughed, hard, and Master laughed back. It was a sound Col didn’t hear very much, and he let himself enjoy it. 

The drive back to Master’s house really was incredibly short - Col reflected on the fact that Master probably only made them take the bus for Col’s sake, and cringed at the pure hatred he had for himself - and soon they were back inside, being welcomed in by Jaffa. 

“Go and sit on the stairs to take your shoes off, Col, it’s easier.”

Col couldn’t disobey, and as much as he wanted to protest his strength, his legs were still in pain. He accepted the mercy with thanks. The day had been… fine. Col was okay. Master didn’t seem angry at him yet, and Vik had kindly ignored him, and Col was still owned. Maybe I can do this, he thought to himself foolishly.  Just for a bit longer. Then when this all ends, I’ll be ready.

-

taglist part 1:

Master had come as a bit of a surprise at first, when Col was taken from the dog shelter to his home. He didn't look like the kind of person to make much use of a guard dog. Col stayed up all night, watching for threats, but Master's entire road was as peaceful as the man himself. The worst he'd ever seen was a few teenagers letting off fireworks.

Everything was just... a bit strange, with this new Master. He didn't have any heavy weights, no punching bag, nothing to keep Col strong. He never doled out punishments, never made sure Col knew where his devotion was placed. Col knew anyway, he was a good boy after all, but he thought all Masters needed to enforce it. His old owner had talked a lot of weak minds and needing to keep the lesson fresh. Clearly Colton's new Master had quite a bit more trust in him.

Which was weird, considering Col was a stray. But it made him all the more determined to prove himself.

Col made sure to keep busy during his otherwise unnaturally quiet new life: he lifted plastic bottles of milk for hours until his arms finally gave out; he filled a suitcase with books and squatted with it; he recited his rules at night, fighting off sleep, fighting off complacency. He spent the daylight hours pacing the house unless Master told him to calm down, which he soon realised was an order to come and kneel by his side.

The day Col fucked everything up was a day the same as any other to begin with. Master had gone shopping without him, like Col was useless, and that always made him frenetic with anxiety. He had begged, knelt with his head to the floor, to accompany him, to do his job and keep his owner safe, but Master had refused. I'll be fine, Col, he'd said softly, and then as a follow up, you can guard the house, right?

Col had done step-ups at the bottom of the staircase to try and work through his wasted energy, and when that hadn't worked, he'd stared out of the kitchen window like a hawk, every wail of an ambulance siren or police van sending his mind spiralling downwards. By the time Master returned unharmed he was a nervous wreck (utterly unfit for a guard dog, no wonder he wasn't allowed out) and he'd thrown himself at his owner's feet in relief. He knew what a wonderful rush of power his old owner had got from such an imposing pet cowering below him, and Col hoped Master might want to take him out next time, keep that feeling of power going.

In the present, Col was dutifully following Master's order to do some yoga.

The cat, Jaffa, was doing her own set of stretches alongside him, something that pleased Master greatly.

The sound of the front door unlocking pulled him from his meditation. Someone was trying to get in, Col realised, with a burst of aggression.

He sprang up like a startled animal and ran into the hall, but he still wasn't fast enough: the stranger was inside. Col noted a lean, strong build, with no obvious weapon, and tried to plan accordingly in the split second before he collided into him. He grabbed the human roughly by the shoulders and slammed him against the back of the door, letting his head crack against it with the momentum. Not enough to do any real damage, just to make him see stars. He wasted no time in pressing one forearm against his neck, letting it sit snugly against the windpipe, tight with pent up force. There was no mistaking that if he needed to press harder, he would. His other hand stayed gripping the man's shoulder, holding him in place.

'Who are you," he growled.

"Whoa! F-fuck, Linden! Get off me you crazy bastard!" the man shouted, but there was a smile on his face, which only made Col angrier.

Before he could bark his question again or tell the man to shut up, his Master appeared, running over to them. Col bent his head just enough to see both him and the intruder- he had been trained that dealing with a threat was not an excuse to ignore his owner.

The intruder gasped in what sounded like a sigh of relief, or a strained laugh. Col was still pushing on his throat.

"Mate, get off me," he said, and it was infuriating that he didn't seem at all bothered by Col's presence. Col had the upper hand, didn't he? Was there something he didn't know? Maybe this man did have a weapon concealed somewhere?

"I take orders from my Master only," Col replied, and hoped he would get one.

"Let him go, Col," Master said, "and come over here, please."

He obeyed instantly and moved to stand behind his Master's left shoulder, arms folded, glaring at the stranger. Hoping he knew that it would only take one wrong move for Col to knock his lights out.

He expected Master to tell the man to get the fuck out of his house; Colton was more than a little confused when the stranger instead threw one arm out for a hug, and Master leaned in happily.

"Hey Vik."

"Hey. Nice bodyguard you've got there."

"I'm sorry about that. Col," he turned to face his dog, "this is Vik. My brother."

His brother?

Oh, fuck.

All the blood drained from his face and he actually flinched back, his arms unfolding and instead resting hesitantly by his side. Now wasn’t the time for him to look dangerous.

He looked between the two men. Their physical similarities were suddenly glaringly obvious.

Col had fucked up. He'd fucked up and he didn't know how to make it better. He'd just tried to choke Master's brother for god’s sake, and Col was strong, sure, but he still howled when the belt was used on him, or when his owner had held his lighter to Col's arm, or when his back was slashed open and his owner kicked him between the shoulder blades. He was going to have to pay dearly for this.

"-hear me? Col? Hey, hello?"

Col blinked. His mind had wandered- a bad habit he never shook off despite hours of training. Master and his brother were stood together, eyeing him.

He pulled himself together enough to curl his hands against his heart and bow in submission.

"I'm so sorry for my mistake, Sir, it was unforgiveable, and I'm sorry," he said, forcing the words out mechanically. He didn't sound remorseful in the slightest, and he'd said he was sorry twice, it sounded stupid. His panic was starting to seep through. "I didn't know, b-but that's no excuse, and, and I'll take any punishment you see fit."

The sentence was familiar, and Col managed to dig deep for some composure. He'd be a big brave dog for this. Guard dogs didn't feel fear- they didn't feel anything. Col didn't feel anything. He straightened up, but kept his head bowed, and listened to his heart pounding in his ears. He waited to see if Vik was the type to show mercy.

Master spoke first. "No, it's okay. Just a misunderstanding, right? Vik has a key, so that's how he just appeared-"

"Hey, stop giving me evils."

"-and you were just doing what you thought was right, Col."

Col looked up slowly. Master seemed to be waiting for a response.

"What I did was unforgiveable," he tried, the panic smothering his thoughts. He had to get this right and he just didn't know how- except through pain. "I promise I'll take my punishment well, Sir, very well."

He saw Vik's eyes widen as he tried to catch Master's gaze, but it stayed fixed on Col.

"Well... you could apologise to Vik, I suppose, for- for-" Master's words were eaten up in an outburst of laughter. Col's fear took a sharp, and weird, left turn. What the fuck? "I’m sorry, I just can't believe you almost bollocked my older brother, that’s fucking hilarious!”

"Stop laughing!" Vik snapped, giving Master a mild shove that made Col bristle. "Or go do it while making me a cup of tea."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, haha, I'll leave you two alone for two seconds, I'm gonna-"

Master put a hand to his mouth to contain his laughter, and breezed past Col towards the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he went. Master figured this was all a big joke, then.

Left alone with Vik. That would be Master's strategy, and Col figured it was more than fair. Vik had been the offended party.

He was about to lower himself to his knees, but Vik reached out a hand, stopping Col. He tensed just a fraction, no more than that: he wasn't allowed to mitigate pain.

"Fair play, mate, you were very quick. Good form, too. Got the jump on me like that." Vik snapped his fingers, making Col stiffen even more. "But we can be cool now, yeah? Now you know my face. You'll probably see me a lot, I come round all the time. So let's put this behind us and shake on it like two gents."

Col realised why Vik's hand was held out.

He thought about protesting for half a second- his old owner had always reminded him how dirty he was- but the last thing he wanted to do was look like he was buying time.

Vik would probably grab his hand and pull him down, try to throw him to the floor. Col didn't think he had the strength, so he prepared to fake it.

The handshake was the most human thing Col had ever done. Vik did pull, but towards him, and not in the rough way Col had expected. He'd forced himself to go so limp that he almost stumbled into him- he caught himself at the last moment and stood still, grazing Vik's shoulder.

"My brother's a really good man," he said, and Col was sure he knew the threat that would follow it up. So if you make one wrong move, I'll break you.

But instead, Vik's voice stayed low, and calm, with no hardness that Col could discern. There was even a smile on his face. "You're gonna be fine here."

. . .

"You're gonna be fine here," he said, doing his best to use his inside voice because he couldn't let Linden hear him being nice about him for once.

And also because the big guy still holding his hand seemed shit-scared already.

Vik had a damn good view being so near to him: Colton's face was absolutely littered with scars. That was meant to be a bad sign when it came to guard dogs- meant they were volatile or picked fights constantly. Vik wasn't so sure. He'd backed off the minute Linden intervened, and Linden had already told Vik that Colton was clearly terrified of him, even though he tried to hide it. Standing with him now, Vik reckoned he wasn't hiding it very well at all. He could feel Colton's heartbeat thrumming from his wrist like a drum.

He briefly imagined a scene in the far future, when Linden's gamble had worked out and this man was alright again, where the three of them were hanging out together, where they were all close friends. Vik would tease him for the time they first met, when Col had tried to chuck him straight back out onto the street. Linden would probably make some joke that he should’ve gone through with it. They’d all laugh – Col would be laughing hardest of all.   

Right now, Vik felt like laughing wasn't a physical possibility for Colton.

"Please punish me as you see fit, sir," Col replied, just as quietly.

"Ahh, well," Vik said brightly, giving Col a pat on the shoulder - making him flinch - and drawing back to a normal distance. His voice raised with it, giving his brother a hint that all was okay. "You weren't to know. No harm done."

Except for the back of my head which hurts like fuck, but whatever, I don't want this guy to start grovelling.

Col looked at him, his frown loosening a little bit. “Really, sir? You’d give me mercy?”

Ew. “Er, yeah, man. We’re cool.”

Linden’s voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sharp rings of a teaspoon being tapped against the rim of a mug, shaking off the final drops. “Tea’s ready!”

Col looked at Vik, waiting for something- instruction, probably. Vik gestured forward. “After you, mate.”

. . .

The rest of Vik’s visit passed without incident. The two brothers settled on the sofa so fluidly that Col got the impression they both sat in the exact same place every time. He felt overwhelmed with shame and apprehension as his mistake replayed in his mind. Running at Vik and pinning him to the wall, snapping at him, intending to hurt him. His Master must feel so embarrassed to have such a poorly-behaved pet.

Col knelt behind his owner and stared at nothing, keeping his back straight and his ears on the world outside. Occasionally the cat threatened to distract him with her purring and big eyes, but Colton didn’t allow himself to enjoy the sight of her. She wasn’t for his enjoyment, anyway.

“Come to mine next time, yeah?” Vik asked.

“Sure, it’s been a while. That’d be nice.”

“Alright, well I’ll head off. Nice to meet you, Col.”

Vik’s face appeared in Col’s peripheral vision, and Col looked over, giving him a nod and looking to his owner for permission to speak.

When his Master gave him an encouraging smile, Col said quietly, “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m sorry again.”

“It’s alright, Col,” Master said, reaching down and giving Col’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Col flinched that time, too. The shame only twisted deeper in his guts. Master turned back to his brother. “I’ll wave you off.”

“You’re always keeping me out of trouble, aren’t you,” replied Vik with a wry smile.

. . .

Linden didn’t have to catch Vik before he walked out the door – they clearly both wanted to have a debrief. Their chat had been more than a little stifled with Colton kneeling right there, ramrod straight, his eyes wide and unfocused. Vik bent to put his shoes back on and stared up at Linden with a face that said what the fuck.

“Yeah,” Linden whispered. “Someone’s clearly done a number on him. Did he hurt you?”

“No, no,” Vik said, unconvincingly. “It was funny anyway. But he really is fierce when he wants to be.”

“At least I know he’s… loyal, now. Not that I took him in to be loyal. Or violent. Ah well.”

“I know, but I get it, it’s good to know he doesn’t want to use any of that strength against you. You’re safe as anything as long as he’s around.”

“Bless him. He’s so nervous all the time. He won’t even pet Jaffa.”

“You’ve got this, mate,” Vik said sincerely. “He’s still new. Maybe you’ve gotta be a bit more clear with things. Next time he looks at Jaffa, just tell him to go and pet her.”

“I’ll try. You should still come round whenever, I’ll tell him not to worry about you.” The thought of Vik almost having his ass handed to him made Linden’s lips curl up again. “Maybe buy a helmet for next time just in case.”

“Oh shut up, I could still batter him and you, you better not start thinking I’m soft. I’ll see you later. And buy him some weights or something, for god’s sake. He’ll go crazy otherwise.”

Linden laughed as Vik headed off. When he walked back into the lounge, Colton was still kneeling. Of course he was – Linden hadn’t ordered him to do anything else.

“Uh…I’m glad you’ve met my brother. Please don’t fret about earlier, Col. You’re genuinely not in trouble. Vik wasn’t mad in the slightest.”

Col didn’t move except to cast his eyes towards Linden’s face. It made him look creepy, like a mannequin. “Thank you, Sir. It won’t happen again. Thank you for this mercy.”

“It might be helpful to mark Vik as someone who’s completely trusted, you know. You don’t have to be afraid when he’s around. You don’t have to be… on high alert. He’s not going to do anything.”

. . .

Col nodded. If Vik made a move to attack, it would be for him, never his Master. Col wasn’t to fight back. “I understand, Sir. Thank you.”

-

taglist part 1:

He could indeed see a sliver of light coming through his door, which he had closed but not latched, and that Jaffa had made short work of pushing open with all the determination of a lonely cat.

Col always slept curled up, and Jaffa was currently kneading his thighs through the duvet, turning him into a pillow. He liked it. It made him feel special, even though he was sure she'd have gone into Master's room if his door was open.

Once she was satisfied, she flopped against him with a small smushing noise.

The weight of her small body was like a furry anchor, complete with body heat and a heartbeat, all keeping him safe in his dog bed.

Ahh, Jaffa. She wasn't the perfect pet- well, she was, without a doubt, but there were plenty of things she had trouble with. Col had seen her miss a step while going down the stairs, and thank goodness it hadn't been a terrible fall. She had skidded and caught herself quickly enough, but Master was still pleased when Col told him. Her bad eyes again, he said. Hopefully that had taught her to take extra care, or else he might need to put in a stair gate. The thought of Jaffa being locked downstairs made Col's chest feel tight.

Col didn't have bad eyes, but there was plenty of him that didn't quite work as intended. Just like Master helped Jaffa get up on the couch if she was struggling, Master helped Col come back out when his memories started taking him away. He helped Col pick up his cutlery and walk on two legs. God, Col was lucky that his owner was good to animals.

Even though it was self-indulgent, Col liked comparing himself with Jaffa. She was a creature on the receiving end of so much love.

He slowly pushed a hand from the safety of his cocoon and let it sink into her fur. Her purring was so loud, he would have given anything to bottle it and keep it with him forever. It was something he could pin his mind on, so it wouldn't run wild in the long hours of the night.

As he fell back asleep, his stream of consciousness turned from a heavy rainfall to staccato drops. Jaffa, imperfect, damaged, I'm damaged, and she's loved, and I'm, I'm, I'm...

The next morning, Col woke up before his Master. He could tell, since there was no sound of the kettle boiling or the radio playing. On his way to the bathroom he paused, noticing that Master's door was half-open.

Lydia had opted for an easy, gently rising path that meandered lazily along the edge of the mountain. Spring was just beginning, some trees were reaching their still-naked branches towards the blue sky, while others sported their very first green leaves. The wind carried scents of wet earth and greenery. 

“Look, Colton!” Delightedly, Lydia pointed out a fat bumblebee flying in low circles. “It must be a queen! She’s been sleeping though the winter, and now she’s looking for a good place to build her nest.” 

The pet looked at the insect with interest. For once, he seemed more curious than scared. 

-

He was being good. Lydia was pleased with him. She wasn’t walking very fast, stopping now and then to admire a plant or the view. The breeze had a bite to it, but the sun was warm. No one that he knew from… from before could reach him in this foreign place. But wasn’t this too much of a human enjoyment, going on a walking trip, talking together? Well, mostly Lydia talked, but he did hum his agreement and offered a word or two from time to time. Wasn’t this a thing that people did? Still, she had said that she had planned to take Coriander. And dogs went on walks too, didn’t they?

Lydia looked so serene, taking in the world around her at her own pace. Colton felt something in his chest, alongside his never-ending anxieties. He wished he could experience this the way she was. 

He couldn’t. Pets and humans were too different. Lydia was his superior, she was free, she was her own master. Wanting to be like her was so foolish only a silly pet’s brain could have come up with it.

*

“Here Col, have some water.” Lydia unfolded a red, rubbery cup printed with the conference logotype and handed it to the young man. Then she unfolded a blue cup for herself. “Finally some useful merch.” 

Spring water cascaded from a metal pipe set into the rock down into a stone basin and disappearing under the ground again. Green moss and feathery fern fronds surrounded the spring. Lydia put down the cup on top of her rucksack and reached out to wash her face and hands underneath the cool flow. When she filled her cup and drank, the water tasted fresh and wild.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Colton copying her actions almost exactly, washing his face and hands and then drinking deeply from the cup. He was eying her nervously, but when she smiled and nodded approvingly, he gave her a tentative, shy nod in reply.

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Here, have a sandwich too.” 

He hummed, like he wanted to protest, but stopped himself. He was letting her be kind to him. 

Lydia sat down and leaned against the big rock flanking the path, the reddish stone sun-warmed against her back. Amid the trees in front of her she could catch glimpses of the view. A river meandering through the valley and catching the sunlight in crystalline sparks. There were strands and streaks of forest, a few houses, scattered fields that were still bare, some darker brown where the soil had been overturned, some lighter brown where the soil had not been touched.

After eating her cheese sandwich, Lydia leaned back against the stone, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth and the sunlight. She let herself doze off for a moment, when some small noise suddenly alerted her. 

She opened her eyes. Col was standing up, every muscle taut, staring fixedly into the forest. A moment later, she heard it too. Something was moving. Her breath caught. For a panicked moment, she remembered the man from yesterday. Had he followed them? An icy hand closed around her heart. 

Colton leaned forward subtly, trying to see further through the trees. His hands tightened into fists.

A moment later, with a rustle, a pair of startled deer threw themselves over the path. Lydia caught a glimpse of dark eyes, russet fur and slender limbs. Then, they were already past. Their white tails bobbing away in the undergrowth. 

Lydia let out a breath she didn’t know that she’d been holding. Meeting Col’s green eyes she laughed with relief. 

“They gave me quite a fright, too. But all is well.”

. . .

The hike had continued at its drowsy pace. Col’s legs occasionally wobbled, Lydia noticed, and she made sure to casually suggest another quick stop every time. She was hardly surprised- Cory didn’t get out much, either. It was something she was hoping to gradually improve on.

Slanting, reddish rays of afternoon sun warmed the pink wall of the café, reflecting warmth on Lydia and Col sitting in patio chairs. Lydia was enjoying a fresh, slightly tart lemon sorbet. Colton had just stared in bewilderment at the array of colourful flavours when she’d asked him what he would like, so she had made the hopefully safe choice of strawberry and chocolate ice cream for him.

“So,” she said, “What do you think of today, Colton?”

*

The pet swallowed a spoon of sweet ice cream and met her smiling brown eyes with shy hesitation. When she smiled, her eyes squinted into crow’s feet at the corners. It made her look genuine. She was genuine, he was pretty sure.

“It was… it was a nice day, Ma’am.” He was surprised to discover that it was true. It had been a busy day with some very stressful moments, but on the whole, he had enjoyed it. Were pets even supposed to enjoy things? It was a strange feeling, but one the time with his Master had made him more accustomed to. “I am very grateful for it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” She pushed a wayward lock of brown hair behind her ear. “I liked it too, I’m glad you wanted to come with me.” Lydia smiled. “And tomorrow, we’re going home.”

*

Fun facts:

Bumblebees early in the spring are always queens, since they are the only ones to hibernate over the winter. They have already mated in the autumn, so in the spring they are ready to start to lay eggs that hatches into worker bees. 

Bumblebees can fly in colder temperatures than other bees , as their fur keeps them warm.  (Bumblebees look round, but underneath the fur they look similar to other bees.) 

They are very important pollinators and bumblebees are used commercially to pollinate crops like raspberries and tomatoes. Unfortunately, this causes some problems by risking the spread of diseases to wild bumblebees and that nonnative species can become invasive.  Scientists in Switzerland have discovered that bumblebees can make flowers start to bloom faster by biting them: https://www.livescience.com/bumblebee-bites-make-flowers-bloom-early.html

-

taglist part 1:

"S-S-Sir, thank you, thank you I'm sorry, thank you for your kindness a-and I'm so sorry for being so disgusting," he choked out the second he could speak again. His throat felt like it had a burning cigarette lodged into it, but every second that ticked by without being properly grateful added a new layer of anxiety. Master moved the bucket, murmuring something about cleaning it later. Col would have cleaned it that second, if he had asked. Sickness was no excuse- there were no excuses, when he had an order to obey.

A sudden flush of heat was developing over him. His shirt felt sticky was sweat and the uncomfortable warmth pulsed under his skin: his heartbeat, amplified. Master had put a hand to his back, a message Col was too ill to understand, and of course he noticed the sudden temperature hike.

"Oh, you're in a hot spell right now. God, it sucks, doesn't it? You'll be freezing again soon," he warned.

"Why, Sir, what are y-you going to do to me?"

He wasn't allowed to ask questions like that, he knew he wasn't. His old owner didn't like them. They earned him a slap, usually, and the promise of I'm going to do whatever I want, now shut up.

His current Master just pressed his hand a little harder into his back, rubbing his thumb up and down. Col was familiar with this, at least, except this time there weren't any fresh whip marks to toy with. Would there be, soon?

"Not me, sweet, I'm not going to do anything. I meant because you're ill. Hot one second and cold the next. Your body's trying to fight the illness off."

"Oh, sorry, uh, sorry Sir, I really am trying, I promise."

He groaned as a fresh wave of stomach pain rolled into him. Master was so close to him and he felt so vulnerable and so weak. Anything would hurt right now. Master wouldn't even have to try.

"Is there anything I can do to help?”

. . .

Linden knew it wouldn’t be a question Col was used to. It was almost, almost funny, seeing the look on his face. Poor thing. He was properly ill. The sweat had stuck his fringe to his head, and his eyes were half-lidded with pain. That was to say nothing of the paleness. He was ghostly.

As seemed to happen often these days, Linden wished he could get into Col’s head. He was clearly thinking hard about the question.

“Humans always know best, I can’t, I wouldn’t tell you what to do, Sir. I’m yours, you can decide if it’s f-funny keeping me ill or if you want me better.”

Oh. There it was again. That pain in Linden’s chest that he never got used to.

“Did you old owner think it was funny?”

“Yes, but I know I’m not there anymore, I only want to please you, Sir, I’ll d-do what I can to make you happy.”

Fucking hell! Linden wanted to shout. You’re ill, it’s not a spectator sport!

He realised he was glaring when Col inhaled sharply, his green eyes blowing even wider.

“Not everything has to be about me. You’re sick, Col, so what matters is looking after you. Can you understand that? That you can be important, too?”

Col obviously didn’t want to argue back, but the disagreement was evident in the way his eyebrows pulled together.

“I belong to you, Sir, I have to be worth keeping around. That’s how it works.”

His voice started to break at the last sentence. Linden realised how much Col had been speaking, too. His defences were clearly down right now.

He’s still so scared of being thrown out.

“No, I like having you here. I like you. You’re worth keeping around because you’re Colton.”

Col suddenly heaved again, but this time nothing came up, except a weak sob.

“It hurts, Sir,” he whispered.

“Let’s get you into bed. You’re being a good boy.”

. . .

Col nodded, letting Master’s hands take his weight, but his wrists weren’t guided into the shackles as usual. He was even more confused when he felt the mattress.

“I’m not… not in the basement, Sir?”

“No, that was your old owner. You’re here with me, yeah?”

He blinked. His mind felt submerged in water. “Y-Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m a dumb pet, I’m really sorry…”

The feeling that something wasn’t right stayed with him, though. It felt like he had slept, but perhaps he had only just put his head down. Every time he closed his eyes he was sure the time had changed.

His current, strange Master was still sat beside the bed, menacing over him with his endless dark hair and deep eyes and soft expression. Col rolled his head to the side, but he still couldn’t figure him out. Not one bit.

After an eternity, or perhaps just one second, his eyes flicked to the dark wall behind his owner.

“They found me,” he sobbed, seeing all of his old Master’s friends staring back.

“Who?” the bedside figure asked.

“Them, the ones who would come and use me, the ones who taught me how to behave, with, with- it was every time I really upset Master, every time I really deserved it-“

“Hey, no one’s there, it’s not real, I promise. It’s just me and you, they’re not here.”

Col barely heard him. Master’s words paled against the searing terror of seeing them again, in this space that he had come to think of as safe, in some way, and he was so weak that they could come and take what they wanted without a fight.

He wouldn’t have fought back anyway.

The man in the chair was still sat with him, still watching him attentively, and Col broke his eyes away from his tormentors for just enough to see him and start begging.

“Sir, please, please, don’t- don’t- don’t leave me, please.”

His voice was hoarse and pathetic. The bridge of his nose felt slick, and he realised he was crying across his face as he lay there, paralysed with fear.

“Please don’t let them have me!” he moaned, appealing to something within his current Master that he wouldn’t dare admit to himself, wouldn’t dare put a name on. Something that made him patient and generous and-

“I can’t, I can’t do it again, please Sir I’m so scared, I’m,” his words were fading fast, fighting a losing battle against his burning throat, but he had to try. “Y-You’re a human, they’ll, they’ll listen to you. Please, please tell them to go away, tell them I’m yours now, I’m your slave and they can’t have me anymore, please.”

In a flash, his right hand was locked in Master’s grip, as his two hands held Col’s firmly.

When his eyes next focused, they were inches from Master’s face. He gasped, but didn’t flinch away.

“Are you listening, Col?”

He nodded, his heart still hammering.

“I swear to god, I will tell them all that and then some. I will make sure they never come back again. Do you understand me? I’m going to stay right here and protect you. They won’t be able to get close. They wouldn’t even dare try.”

His voice was low, and deadly serious. A thrill ran through Col- it felt like loyalty, and happiness, and excitement.

“If you want to go to sleep, then do so. I’m right here, keeping watch for you.”

-

When Colton woke up, he felt like he’d slept for days. His stomach was still rolling, but the awful heat had left him. It felt like the world was moving as the right speed, again.

He was aware of a presence next to him, and turned to look.

Master was right there. The morning sun was threading through his hair, shimmering as he shifted in time with his breathing. He was asleep, Col could see. One hand was propped up on his thigh, and the other was still holding Colton’s.

His hallucination came back to him as he looked at the wall behind Master’s head. Master had promised to stay, and he had.

The touch wasn’t scary. They had held hands before, and Master saw it was a reward, rather than a promise of anything painful. In fact, it was probably because of his sickness-weakened mind, but Master himself didn’t look scary, right now.

This sudden bout of naivete would leave. Col would be safer, and better, when it did. It was nice, though, for just a second or two. To lie there, wrapped in the feeling that Master was protecting him.

-

"Please, Sir, I'll be good, I'll do as I'm told."

Linden squinted, trying to read between the lines. Did Col need prompting? Would he feel more secure with a direct instruction? Was he just trying to be as submissive as possible? Was he hoping to get it over with?

"I'm tired," Linden settled on eventually, and it wasn't even a lie. "I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, hah. So, shall we... go to sleep?"

Col nodded slowly, translating the words. Linden made the first move, getting under the duvet slowly and carefully, pointing his body away from Col. Turning his head back, he gave him a smile.

Col took this as his cue, and started reaching towards the duvet, his hands shaking so badly that Linden had to turn away. It hurt too much to look.

He felt the bed sink under Col's weight, but that was it, thankfully. Col hadn't felt the need to try to touch Linden, or curl up to him.

That might have been nice, he thought. In another time. To hold him and tell him he's okay.

"Goodnight, Col," Linden said.

"Goodnight, Sir," came the whispered reply. It sounded like Col was trying his hardest not to cry.

Linden reached to click the bedside lamp off, but already he could hear hitching breaths from just behind him.

He sat up a little, and faced Col.

"You okay, sweet?"

Col's lips were pressed together tightly, curving down with his grief. After a few seconds of silence, he seemed to lose his internal battle, and shook his head in defeat.

"N-no, Sir," he murmured. "I... I can't do it."

"That's okay. That's okay."

Col's red rimmed eyes widened, and he looked up in genuine shock. The ball of disgust started to rise to the top of Linden's stomach again.

"Of course it's okay, oh my god Col."

Col put a hand over his mouth and blinked the first few tears down his cheeks. "No, please, I can stop crying. I won't make a fuss."

"I only want to sleep, I promise."

"But this, this bed, and I'm here with you and don't you want to correct all my mis-mistakes? Put me back in my place?"

"No, I like you how you are," Linden said. He didn't know why, but he always tried to directly answer Col's awful questions like that, even when it sounded like Col was parroting someone else. Linden had this feeling that it helped Col understand better. Whether it did or not, he couldn't know. "I want to be nice to you."

Col pulled his legs up at his chest and hugged them gently, a shield between him and his Master.

. . .

I want to be nice to you. Why did that hurt the most? Why did that make Col's lip tremble over the prospect of Master restraining him to the bed and forcing his legs apart?

Master's rituals were so different to everything Col knew. None of his training had prepared him for an owner that wanted to eke the process out. He wasn't some hungry animal, ordering Col to get on all fours as soon as he could. He didn't tell him to shut the fuck up and proceed to treat him like a object. But Col didn't know how to be good, anymore.

"We'll just sleep, I promise you," Master repeated. "It's a big bed, I won't touch you once."

Believe him, someone in Col's brain told him. You don't want to make him angry, do you?

It was true, if Master was offering him an olive branch, he'd be an idiot not to take it. A stupid, crying, brainless pet that was too stupid to know what was good for him. He sniffed as the lump in his throat grew bigger.

"I'll d-d-d-do my best, Sir, I'll do whatever you want I swear, I can please you."

Begging was all Col knew, when his stony-faced Master doubled down and wore his pet's intellect thin. Time slowed as Master looked him over, then exhaled with a huff.

"Yeah, I know you're gonna be a good boy. And right now, I want you to be rested by tomorrow morning. I don't want to be... I don't want to be touched, or disturbed. Can you lie in this bed and fall asleep, for me?"

"Yes, yes Sir, thank you."

"Okay. You're okay, Col. You're being very brave. Goodnight, then."

Master shifted and lay down once more, this time turning the light off.

His eyes were closed. Col had never been so close to him before. He had a chicken pox scar next to his left eyebrow, where his nose ended.

And, crucially, Col could see him breathing. Okay. Okay. Master wouldn’t come home to a dead brother, then. The thought of seeing Master’s face if that had happened made him want to cry. He couldn’t handle that. He just couldn’t.

He knew that if Vik woke up and found this pet running his dirty hands over him, he would be furious. Col would be beaten for sure. So when he tried to check if Vik was bleeding from anywhere, he did it as quickly as he could. His hand pulled away, wet with blood, and Col choked on his breath.

Now he had a task. He had a way to help. The smell of blood was already snaking around him, wrapping him up and pulling him back down into the basement, where the smell of blood never left because there was no one to clean it up. He was always restrained and his Master didn’t care to make his bitch pet’s cell more hospitable. But this blood was fresh, he’d been hurt recently. Yes, that was right, his head was bleeding. Master had taken him by the hair and bashed him against the wall, over and over until his thoughts were spinning. Master was screaming at him about how he needed this, he needed it until his face was completely drenched in blood.

The next time Col came back he was gasping, barely taking in enough air, and his head was in so much pain he thought it was going to split open. He pressed a bloody hand to his forehead and staggered to his feet. As quickly as he could he got himself to the medicine box and fumbled with it with his stupid fingers.

Bandages, wipes for the blood, and then he had to get an ice pack. Master had bought a few, in case his pet ever burned him again, or did something even worse. God, the constant shame, the constant reminders. Col pushed his insignificant feelings aside and went back to help his superior. The way he should have helped those years ago. The way he could have helped.

Vik started to stir quickly after Col pressed the ice pack to his mostly-cleaned head, then woke up all at once. He jerked violently and pushed Col away, making him scramble backwards in fright.

Vik groaned loudly and sat up, noticing Col after a few seconds.

“What are you doing here?”

“O-oh my god, sir, s-s-sir, I’m so sorry, you fell and I, um, um, I’m just s-so sorry please don’t hit me, please, I won’t touch you again I swear!” Col’s voice was wobbling higher and higher with his desperation. Vik was going to hurt him now and his old Master was lying dead on the floor of his mind, both carrying the same piercing urgency. “I didn’t mean to, I’m stupid!”

“Whoa, whoa. Col.” Vik said firmly, holding up a hand and making Col flinch. “Calm the fuck down. I forgot I was even at Linden’s house, god. Now it makes more sense that you’re here.”

Col’s wide eyes met Vik’s. He shut his mouth and nodded, still shaking. “Yes, sir, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you so scared of me?”

Vik asked some bizarre questions, Col thought. It pulled him out of his terror, just a little bit. How on earth did Vik want him to answer that?

“Be- because, um, I was badly behaved and, y-you’re Master’s brother, s-so…”

“What, so I’m gonna rat you out? Tell Linden that you, what, gave me an ice pack after I fell down the stairs?”

His eyes were still half-lidded and pained, which made his sudden smile all the more menacing.

Well yes, that’s exactly what I think you’re going to do, sir.

“I touched you sir, and I should have been… been better,” Col mumbled, faltering.

“See, you don’t even know what to say!” Vik cried with a hint of triumph, shifting the bag of ice and re-pressing it into his temple. “As if you could’ve stopped me tripping on my own fuckin’ feet. And I don’t see how you could have helped me without touching me.”

Something about Vik struck Col as incredibly… face value. God, Col took so many risks these days. Far too many, and he knew one day it wouldn’t pay off.

But still, he asked, “So you’re not angry with me?”

He wished he could ask his old Master the same question, even though he knew the answer would make him throw up.

To his relief, Col shifted just a tiny bit, and croaked out a reply. "I'm... I'm sorry, Sir, I'm-"

A coughing fit put a stop to his words. "-I'm f-fine, I'm really sorry for, for my laziness, uhn-"

"Whoa, you sound sick as a dog. Can I come in?"

In the dim light, he saw Col nod. Linden laid his palm over Col's forehead, making him flinch away with a gasp.

"It's okay, I'm just feeling your temperature. You need to rest up. I'll get you some water. I'll be right back."

"N-no, please, I c-can get up I promise, I'm sorry I'm really sor-ry..." Col whimpered. It was clearly paining him to speak so much, but fear was pushing him on. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused.

"I'm not angry," Linden murmured, but he was starting to doubt if Col could even hear him.

"Why... why am I o-on a bed?"

Linden frowned in surprise. "Well, it's your bed. You can stay here until you feel better."

This was the wrong answer. Something seemed to snap inside Col, sending out the last bit of energy he had, as he clumsily tried to sit up and press his hands together. His face was a picture of crushing despair.

"Then... then please Master, please don't... don't invite your friends, I can't... please may it just be you?"

It still made Linden recoil, being called Master, but that was nothing compared to the disgust that came with Col's words. His old owner had had friends over? How many? The thought of a group of sick perverts, all there to have their enjoyment with Col's body, thundered through his mind and made him want to scream. He couldn't believe the things Colton had been through. And there was so much still to discover, he was sure. As Linden tried to figure out what the fuck to say in reply, Col's eyes wandered around the room.

"I've not been here before. I don't... see any restraints, Master?"

Col's head was in another place. He wasn't seeing Linden, he wasn't present at all. For some reason, Linden blurted out, "I trust you, that's why."

The fear on his face receded, just a little bit. His body finally gave up on trying to hold his sitting position and he sank back down, his knees tucked against his stomach.

"You always said you'd train the- the defiance out of me."

“Mmph,” he grunted. The small noise irritated his throat enough to set off a coughing fit. He finally opened his bleary eyes. He was definitively ill. He groaned, grinding his head weakly into the pillow.

-

Pet didn’t see Master all morning. The sun was in the middle of the sky, casting only slim shadows, when he gathered his courage and went to check on him. Every step felt like a mistake. He was disturbing him, he was attention seeking, Master was probably busy, he was doing something that didn’t concern the stupid little animal he kept around, and Pet was going to get ordered away at best and punished at worst.

Still, he gently knocked on Master’s bedroom door. The action hurt his knuckles. “Col,” he heard, just barely, from inside. “Come in, please.”

Master’s voice didn’t sound right. He didn’t look right, either, when Pet pushed open the door. He was still in bed, his long hair stuck to his face with sweat. His dark skin looked flushed-out and pallid, and his eyes were half-lidded. Two pupils slowly met his own.

Oh, god. Master was dying.

Pet rushed and collapsed to his knees at Master’s bedside, his mind racing to find a solution. He wanted to cry out, ask what is it, where does it hurt, what do I need to do?

But he couldn’t. He could only stare stupidly, his mouth parted with worry, eyes big and searching. Master saw his panic and slowly spoke. It looked like the words were painful.

“I’m okay, I’ve just-“ he coughed, turning his face away. “I think I’ve got the flu. It’s fine, it’s-“ another few seconds of coughing. “Okay, I’m quite badly ill.”

He half-groaned, half-laughed. Pet’s heart was still thumping out of his chest, but he made himself nod. Master pressed his face into the pillow, a pained look on his face. His eyebrows were drawn close, heavy over his eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Pet stared, waiting, but Master didn’t speak anymore. He was tense, like he was trying to stave off an invisible pain.

A car rumbled past outside. Had… had Master fallen asleep? Pet wouldn’t dare touch him without permission, so instead he got up and looked down. It felt so wrong. Pet should be the one laid out, sweaty and barely conscious.

He had to help. What did Master need? Paracetamol? He knew that word, from somewhere. Had Master given him some, when he burnt his own hand? He went to the bathroom and retrieved the packet. Water. Pet would get him water, too. He’d be a good, useful dog.

Pet’s mind wandered as he completed the task. So often his thoughts were preoccupied with what Master could do, what he was capable of, all the ways he could hurt Pet in that moment. Constantly vigilant of any attack. Would he kick him? Whatever was in reach, would he smash it against his head? Would he reach out and slap him?

But right now, Master really couldn’t do anything. He was weak, he was tired. He could barely open his eyes- would he notice, say, if Pet failed to kneel quickly enough? If he didn’t cast his eyes down, or if he was slow? He wouldn’t do any of that, of course. Pet knew he shouldn’t be thinking this way, but he also knew he wasn’t considering anything disloyal. Just because Master was incapacitated didn’t mean Pet would let his own training slip, or- god forbid- try to hurt Master or slow his recovery. Never. It was just… an interesting thought, the fact that Pet wasn’t at risk of harm right now.

He also thought about how seeing Master this way, pained and exhausted, evoked a strange feeling he hadn’t felt for his old owner, even as he died. All Pet could feel back then was hopelessness, and fear. He had felt like a balloon cut loose and left to fly, unguided, into the abyss. Here, he could tell that the drive to help Master feel better was motivated by more than his obligation to serve, more than his fear of his owner dying. Seeing Master so reduced had created a strange sadness in Pet. He didn’t like it.

-

Master didn’t look much better when Pet returned, a glass of water in one hand and the pills in the other. He knew it was disgusting, to give his owner pills that had been handled by an animal, but he didn’t know how else to give them to him. He wasn’t sure Master would be able to open the packet by himself.

He was curled up, his face still taut, and breathing far too shallowly. It made Pet’s heart seize up. This was wrong wrong wrong.

Kneeling, he put the glass down and tried to gently wake Master. He knew he would get in trouble for touching his owner, for daring to disturb him, but he had to help. Master opened one eye and Pet proffered the glass.

It took both of Master’s hands gripping it, with Pet supporting the base of the glass, for him to drink enough to swallow the pills. Once he was done he immediately slumped back into bed with a groan, and shut his eyes.

-

By the third day, Master was improving a lot. But, naturally, he didn’t have any time for his Pet. He understood, he really did. Master had to focus on recovering and look after himself.

Still…

He was getting really hungry. He had no way of asking, and duh, it kept him dependent on his owner’s mercy, as he should be. But he worried that if Master didn’t grant him the privilege soon, he would be useless at helping fetch pills, water, warm blankets, anything. He was already starting to wobble a lot more as he walked. Once he thought he would actually fall onto his owner.

Pet tried to push the hunger away. He had to focus, this was important! He had to be perfect. He could hear Master’s voice in his head, once he was back to full health.

You just let me suffer in that bedroom, you fucking mongrel. No help, no care, I don’t know why I ever kept you in the first place. You can get out and never come back, you hear me?

So he ignored the void in his stomach. Tried to compensate for the way his limbs ached. If this was a test, he was going to pass. He had to.

-

Nothing. The man didn’t move an inch, except to squeeze his eyes shut. Linden paused.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

Linden watched, hoping for some reaction, but he stayed motionless.

“He can hear, though,” the worker added, predicting Linden’s next question. “Yeah, so… there’s that.”

The breeze picked up, but the man knelt in Linden’s doorway didn’t react.

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him,” he asked flatly.

The worker stretched his neck, thinking. “Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

Linden noted the slim leash. Other than that, the only other restraints were the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back.

It was true, the man looked like he’d be tall if he stood to his full height, but at present he wasn’t even daring to look up. Linden hadn’t fully considered the fact that the pet might have been violent. God, he might have had to actually restrain him, if that had been the case.

Am I insane? Linden suddenly thought, both frantic and oddly calm. Is this an insane thing to do? It’s too late now, anyway. What on earth is Vik gonna say?

“Okay, thank you. Enjoy your day.”

The leash was exchanged, the handcuffs removed. The worker gave him a quick nod goodbye and rattled away in his van as Linden looked down at the figure outside his house.

. . .

Pet couldn’t breathe.

He really couldn’t breathe. Terror weighed so desperately on his chest that he couldn’t draw any air into his lungs.

He was back. After all these months he was back, back in the clutches of a sole human, outside the house that would become his entire world in just a few moments.

It was all going to start again. He was going to re-learn how to please his owner. Every bit of his body and mind was going to be broken and re-set to his new Master’s desires.

“Hello, there.”

Pet hadn’t been spoken directly at in a long time. He was so accustomed to having humans talk about him as if he wasn’t there.

He was used to being tested, however. He’d been given no direct orders, nor permission to answer. He kept being good, with his head bowed low.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

The last thing I’m going to do is take an order from someone other than my Master, thought Pet. No. I have to show him that I’m loyal. If Master asks me, then I’ll speak.

His new owner was apparently satisfied with his silence, though.

Distantly, Pet felt himself wilt, just a tiny bit. This Master didn’t care to let him speak, then. This could be it for life. He might never utter another word.

But it was fine, it was fine, he was owned and this was what he was for, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he felt empty and scared and lonely on the streets? Hadn’t he been just days from starvation before those humans stuffed him into a cage at the local shelter?

His sinking heart was betraying him. He wished he could just be good, he wished he could be overjoyed at being given another chance to serve his only purpose.

The thought of punishments shouldn’t scare him, they were necessary. They helped.

Why did he want to throw up?

Pet would do anything to please this man. What silly animal thoughts could he ever need to articulate, anyway? Why was he acting like he was capable of having ideas worth saying?

“He can hear, though. Yeah, so… there’s that.”

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him.”

Pet would know displeasure a thousand miles off. His new owner was looking down at him in irritation. Pet wondered what the punishment would be if he pressed himself to the cold stone and begged then and there that he would be worthy.

“Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

That’s right, thought Pet, his eyes widening with emotion. I’m not a fighter, I’m nothing, I’m absolutely nothing. You can mould me, Master. I’ll be whatever you want. I’ll earn my stay and maybe you won’t have to hurt me too badly.

Having got all the information he needed, Pet’s new Master sent the handler away and Pet took the deepest breath of his life. In half a second he took in the coolness of the wind, the fresh air, the sound of birds and dogs and cars, knowing with absolute certainty that he would never be among any of it again.

. . .

The man was dressed in shorts that looked too small, and a t-shirt with a design so faded it looked like static. Even after the handcuffs had been taken off, his wrists remained crossed across his back. Like any movement might be the wrong one.

“Come in, come in.”

Linden was put further on edge when the man crawled in, still staring at the floor, still silent.

He bent down to unclip the leash and saw him flinch, oh god, oh fucking hell he was in so far over his head.

He took several steps back, winding the leash around his hand nervously. He needed a second.

All he knew was he had a spare bedroom, and enough time off work. He had food, and a harmless cat, and he guessed he would figure the rest out as he went.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.” Linden felt like he was speaking to himself rather than the pet. “You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

He felt more than a little relieved when the man obeyed.

His hair was a sandy kind of blond, and Linden was fairly sure that his eyes were green. It was hard to tell when they were moving across his house so rapidly. Linden had naturally noticed the endless collection of scars up and down his body, but as the pet lifted his head, he could see one more: a white line across his left cheek.

He lifted a hand to his own cheek and felt the soft flesh there. He was uneasy even imagining the pain that accompanied that single wound. What on earth had this man gone through? And- Linden thought despairingly- how would he ever earn his trust?

Looking to the side, into the living room, Linden saw Jaffa's empty cat bed, a small symbol of his peaceful household. Okay. Maybe things could be okay.

No- he would make sure they were okay. This man was his priority now. His property too, unfortunately.

He made his way a little bit closer to the man. “This will be your home now. For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

. . .

Pet couldn’t take it all in. A new house, a new Master, a new life. It felt like his thoughts were moving too fast for his brain.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.”

Pet exhaled and breathed in the indoor air for the first time. He would have to savour this too, before he was taken down to the basement. He remembered the smell of his old home well enough- his own blood and filth, with nothing to dilute it.

The wording was odd, but it sounded as if his new Master was looking for a project. A pet that needed some heavy refurbishments. And of course, he could speak however he liked- Pet would need to get used to it, learn to read between the lines.

“You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

Pet obeyed without thinking, but it struck him what a kindness this was. There was no need for him to see the house; he would spend most of his life chained away or blindfolded, and it wasn’t as if he were allowed to speak to compliment his new Master’s home.

Crouched in the doorway, he looked into the house. It was wooden and old; the bannisters were worn with age, the floorboards were exposed, and Pet’s new owner stood amongst it like an add-on. He was dressed in brown and pine green, with long black hair, and dark skin. Shadowy, Pet thought. The man, his Master, had a faraway look to him. Guarded, even a little suspicious.

Particles of dust floated between them as Master slowly came closer. Pet could only brace himself for whatever was about to happen. Master could strip him down, inspect him, hurt him, throw him into the basement and lock the door. He could do whatever he wanted to his new living property.

“This will be your home now,” Master said slowly. “For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

Pet listened. Master’s name went through his head, but didn’t linger. He knew it wasn’t for him to use.

“I’m going to take this off,” Master said, and usually this kind of warning meant Pet was supposed to prepare himself- take his shirt off, or turn around to offer his back, or hold out his wrists- but he had no idea what Master was even referring to. Panic set in. What was he going to do to him? What was there to take?

Master reached out and Pet didn’t flinch this time, because he knew better. He couldn’t suppress a gasp, however, when he felt cold fingers brushing against his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his fear.

He was so distracted by his own terror at what might be happening that he didn’t realise Master was undoing his collar until he pulled it away from Pet’s neck entirely.

He was untethered, again.

He’d been without a collar the whole time he’d been a stray. So long in fact that when he was collared just a few days ago, he had felt trapped, frightened, hardly able to breathe. Pets were meant to be collared. It had only backed up what he already knew, that he was defective in every way, that he never learned, that he needed to take a lot more pain before he could serve his purpose.

He almost reached a hand up to feel his bare skin, but caught himself. Was he trying to get a beating?

“That’s okay, you can touch it. You don’t need a collar in this house.”

Pet was so shocked he almost looked directly at his Master. He wasn’t just replacing the collar with another one? This was it?

He shouldn’t have felt relieved. He was bad. At least his old master had known that, and knew how to keep him in line. This Master was going to find out by himself. Pet was going to disappoint him at every turn until he realised that only the harshest discipline could keep him in line. And that meant a trip to the bedroom, an extended session with the handcuffs and restraints and-

His own pounding heartbeat brought him back to the present.

“You look so cold,” Master mused, though he spoke so quietly Pet wasn’t even sure if he was meant to hear it. “Come, follow me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

-

taglist part 1:

Master didn’t call it petsitting. He said he had to go to the doctor, that it was a checkup he couldn’t miss, and Vik would be coming to “hang out”. Keep him company since Master might be gone a while. Col knew it was because the last time he’d been left alone for any amount of time he’d locked himself out in the rain.

He woke up early, sick to the core with nerves, and stayed by Master’s side all morning. He was practically tripping him up, the way he followed him from room to room and knelt right below his feet.

It was just a routine appointment. Master wasn’t dying, but it still made Col feel sick. He wanted to busy himself with something, and the only thing he knew how to do was kneel and obey.

He watched as Master laced his shoes up- he was always dazzled by the speed he could do it at. Threading and looping his fingers effortlessly, and although Col always tried to follow along, he couldn’t quite keep up.

Master gave him a smile. “You’ll be able to do this, soon. Honest.”

“Thank you, Sir, I would be honoured to serve you like that,” Col beamed, but Master’s smile vanished entirely.

“Yeah, of course love.”

To anyone else, it would’ve looked like a small change, but Col could feel the darkness start to seep into his vision and swallow him up. He’d done something wrong, he shouldn’t have spoken, what did he do?

Now Master was going to leave in a bad mood with his dog, and that was going to grow and grow all day like a horrible tumour, and by the time he came back- if he did come back- he’d be ready to beat Col into something he did like.

His heart failed within him. He wanted to apologise, but he didn’t get a chance- a knock at the door made him straighten his back and evacuate any unnecessary thoughts.

“Ah, there he is. Vik,” he greeted calmly, as the door opened. “You’re on time for once, I see.”

“You’re the same miserable bastard as ever, I see- joking! I’m joking, I’m joking. Hey, man.”

The brothers shared a quick hug and Col averted his eyes. He wished he was upstairs, out of sight. He hoped, foolishly, if Vik didn’t see him, he’d forget he existed. He’d amuse himself some other way and Col could be left unharmed.

But he could see Vik’s smile from the corner of his vision, and he knew he didn’t have a chance of that.

Master bent down to his Pet, speaking to him softly and calmly, like one would to an anxious dog. “You’ll be absolutely fine, sweet. It’s just for a few hours, and Vik isn’t going to do anything to hurt you. If you want, you can go up to your room- he won’t follow you there. Are you going to be okay?”

Col nodded immediately. Questions like that only had one answer. “Yes, Sir. See you later.”

Master straightened back up with a smile, and exchanged a few quiet words with Vikram. Then the door snapped shut, and Colton was alone with the stranger.

-

Vik made himself at home, kicking off his trainers and throwing his jacket over the back of the sofa. Col, who hadn’t been given any direct orders yet, had decided to kneel in his usual spot. Where he was available for instruction, and technically within reach, but he’d at least see Vik gearing up to kick or punch before he actually did it.

“-yeah, no mate I get that, but what I’m saying is, if he’s gonna come up to you and give it all that, then y’know, I’m not gonna turn around and say that it is what it is, ‘cause it isn’t, and-“

Col knew he wasn’t allowed to look directly at humans- but in that moment, Vik’s eyes were anchored across the room, thoughtlessly tracing the pattern in Master’s wallpaper as he spoke.

Col also knew he wasn’t meant to listen in on people’s conversations, but here he was hearing it clear as day, and he didn’t have a sweet clue what Vik was talking about.

He was similar to Master, for sure: the stiff jawline, long nose, and heavy-set eyes immediately gave him away as his sibling. On Master, it made him look reserved, almost world-weary. But on Vik, it only made his eyes shine more; two bright, thoughtful sparks lighting up the rest of his face. His mouth was permanently bent into a fox-like smile.

He looked kind. But Col had learned early on that that meant nothing. Kindness towards other humans never translated into kindness towards a Pet. Why would it?

Vik’s voice trailed across the room, a long never-ending speech bubble in a language Col could barely speak. “Nah, listen mate I’m not being funny, right, but if he’s not gonna take it from you, then who is he gonna take it from? He’s taking the piss, innit, and- oh wait a second- you alright, Col?”

In an instant Vik’s eyes flicked back to the Pet and caught him red handed, staring like a dumb creature. Eavesdropping, too. Col flinched at the sudden attention, ducking his head.

“Y-Y-Yes, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen.”

Vik pressed the phone into his shoulder and bent down slightly.

“Oh, you sure you’re okay though? Aw, no, it’s not right for me to ignore you. Two secs,” he held the phone back to his cheek. “Here, I’m gonna head off, I’m over at my brother’s right now. Yeah, yeah, hahaha. Trust me, I know. Hah, okay, see you in a bit.”

He slid the phone away and looked at Col with a sly smile. Col shrank away instinctively. He’d done it now. Now Vikram’s eyes were drilling two holes into him and Col could only wait and see what he had in store.

“Let’s see what Linden has in his fridge.”

And with that, Vik marched straight past him, leaving Col breathless.

-

“Hey, Col. I’ve found Linden’s nice tea. It’s spearmint, ever had it? He’s such a prick, he always hides it because he knows it’s my favourite. Come have some with me.”

Hot tea. Col wasn’t about to make that mistake again. His face was deathly pale as he stammered. “M-My, my Master doesn’t a-allow me to, uh-“

“Okay, well firstly I don’t believe that. Also, he’s my brother, you really don’t need to be so formal,” Vik said, and although his words dripped with annoyance Col couldn’t hear any in his tone. “His name’s Linden, why don’t you call him that?”

“I can’t,” was all he could manage, his strength failing under Vik’s gaze. He’d never had to insist on that before.

Vik pressed his lips together, assessing the disobedient Pet. Col suddenly realised he’d forgotten to call him sir. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of water over him, the way the fear froze every inch of him. His heart pounded as the seconds dragged on, and Vik decided what would happen to him next.

After what felt like hours, Vik’s lips pulled into a smile again. “Go on, try the tea. It’s nice.”

What could he do? He couldn’t disobey Vik, but he couldn’t disobey Master either. His hands shook as he pressed them together and bent his head down. He hated this. Hated having to fight back, hated being given a choice, hated being away from his owner.

“Please, please, I’m really sorry sir I just- I d-d-don’t want my Master to think I was being disobedient, please don’t make me, I’m begging you…”

“Okay, how about I call him?”

The practicality of the reply stumped Col for a few seconds. He had expected taunts, or maybe a slap, not a solution.

“Call…him?” he repeated back stupidly, but Vik had already fished his mobile out and tapped away until it started humming against his ear.

“Alright Linden? Yeah, it’s all fine, Colton just needs a bit of reassuring. I suggested we could have some tea together, you know. No… no not the nice stuff! How could I have found it? It isn’t like I know that it’s hidden at the back of the cupboard behind the pasta… no, I’ll only drink a tiny bit okay, no, hahaha, right shut up I’m passing the phone to Col so you’re not allowed to berate me anymore, right, I’m doing it, okaygoodbyefuckoff.”

Vik finished his sentence in a mad rush as he thrust the phone into Col’s face. He took it with stiff, terrified hands. If he dropped Vik’s phone, he… he didn’t even want to think about the repercussions.

“Col?” said the phone in his palm. He quicky held it up to his ear.

“Sir, it- it’s me.”

“Hi, Col,” he said, and the sound of his ever-soft voice already had Col melting into a puddle of obedience and loyalty. “What’s wrong, love?”

“N-Nothing Sir, everything’s fine and I’m doing my best to be good,” he said quickly. It wasn’t for him to decide whether he had been good or not, but he still wanted Master to know that he was trying. “It was just, that, Vikram offered me some tea and I know that, uh, the last time…”

“Ah, I get it,” Master kindly interrupted before Col had to recount the whole awful episode again. “That’s okay, Col. It won’t happen again, no one will get burnt. You don’t have to drink the tea if it’s going to scare you. But you have my full permission, alright? Try not to be scared, love. Your hands are getting better and better. Are you holding the phone right now?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, a tiny thread of pride starting to form within him.

“That is so good! Well done! You couldn’t have done that at the beginning.”

Col gasped a happy, breathless laugh and nodded. “Thank you, thank you so much Sir, I’m so pleased.”

“I’m glad it’s all going well. Vik is a good man, and I wouldn’t let him, or anyone, hurt you. Okay?”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” he murmured, not sure how else to react. The reassurance felt amazing, if a little strange.

“I’ll see you later, Col. Have a lovely afternoon.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

The call ended and he carefully handed the phone back to Vik, who had filled and flicked the kettle on. Their fingers didn’t touch as the phone was exchanged.

Vik motioned for him to sit on the kitchen chair, and oh god, it was all the same, he was going to drop it for sure. His hands curled into tight fists, so tight he could pretend his fingers would never come out, and he’d never have to make stupid mistakes with them ever again.

“So what happened the last time?” Vik asked. Col stared at the floor. He felt completely silly up on the chair like this. “Like, why do you think you’re not allowed to drink tea?”

Col exhaled. Here it came. He couldn’t get out of it now.

“I spilled the tea, sir. On my Master’s legs. I- I- I burnt him with my clumsiness.”

Vik’s lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise, before a wall of laughter slammed into Col, making him jump.

“You didn’t! No! Oh my god, Col you sly bugger, that is hilarious. I mean, he was fine, right? He didn’t have a secret trip to hospital I never heard about?”

Col shook his head, not sure quite how to react. “N-No sir, the burns healed on their own…”

“Okay good, now I’m allowed to laugh about it. That’s funny, I bet he screamed like an idiot, put it there Col.”

Vik’s fist flew towards Col’s face, and he ducked his head down quickly, putting a hand up to soften the blow.

“Ah! I’m sorry, s-sorry sir!” he cried out.

“Hey, hey now, I was going for a fistbump, you know? You just…”

Vik’s hand closed around Col’s, not trying to pull or open it, just guiding the fist away from his face until Col looked up. Vik smiled his breezy, effortless smile, and brough his own hand up, bumping the two together. A fistbump. Oh yeah.

-

taglist part 1!

He dared to open one eye, and just as he did, the feeling of Master’s hands vanished. He realised he was gagged, instead, and the gag had been tightened too much and it was reaching all the way down his throat, plugging it up and suffocating him. He suddenly felt like he knew his own name. His real name. He had been someone, hadn’t he? He was still choking to death but it took a back seat as this realisation dawned on him. His name, yes, and he had had longer hair, he used to style it up with hair powder. He needed it out the way for that sport he played.

His head swam with the confusing thoughts. He couldn’t know this. How could he play sports when he crawled? Didn’t he have his hair long because Master wanted it that way?

His eyes filled with tears and he finally breathed, letting out air bubbles as he did. He was drowning but he wasn’t but he was. He thrashed desperately, wanting to get back to his name, he had known it just then, what was it? Please, no no no don’t go, don’t go I had you, I knew you were still there and I had you and I can’t let it slip away now, I was so close, please, come BACK-

He woke up with bile in his throat. He clamped a hand over his lips to keep it down, blinking away the tears- they had been real, at least. He knew what his nightmare had been about, but he couldn’t admit it. He wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t a person and he never had been.

He ignored the feeling of his heart bursting with sorrow. He reminded himself that he was nothing.

He waited in silence for a few seconds, his hand still held against his lips. Nothing. He hadn’t woken Master. He allowed himself to breathe, slowly. Master bursting in through the door, furious at having been woken, finally putting his hands on his pet and teaching him a lesson was the worst thing he could imagine.

But- in the shadow of his nightmare, Col wanted to see him.

(He didn’t have wants. And yet.)

The room he slept in was suddenly too dark, too empty, and he knew he’d never get back to sleep in it. As quietly as he could, he pulled himself up, left his small stuffed bear behind, and ventured out.

The door to Master’s bedroom filled him with the same amount of dread as it had with his previous owner. The entire house belonged to him, but this was his private space. His pet was strictly forbidden at all times. His pet couldn’t go inside, he might start touching things with his dirty animal hands. The fact it contained Master’s bed was a different story, and one that felt strangely far away right now. The urge to be near him seemed to be overcoming it. He couldn’t explain it, he knew he should worship and cower from his owner in equal measure, and for the most part he did. But Master had a strange essence to him, something that made Col feel calm. Honey warmed by the sun.

He reached out and touched the doorknob. He’d clean it later. Pushing the door open, he saw Master lying on his stomach, his arms flopped out wide and his hair a map of all the directions he’d dragged his head during the night. He looked like a starfish, Col thought.

The floor at the end of his bed was empty. Col lay down and smiled. Master was right there. Oh god, he was right there. His stomach twisted with the comfort and the thrill of it all.

He would sleep until just before dawn, before Master woke up, and then he’d go back in his room. Back to where he belonged, to where Master kept him at night. It still surprised him that he wasn’t actually locked in.

As soon as he had closed his eyes, he felt the pull of exhaustion once more. His nightmare was fading. He was just a slave, an animal that had had a strange dream, and it was meaningless. He was stupid and silly and inferior. He was with Master. He was- safe. But before Col could think about it any longer, he sank into an empty sleep.

He was woken by the feeling of light against his eyelids. Blinking into reality, he was lost for a few seconds, until he realised he was looking at Master’s bedroom floor. He was still there- he was still there. Horror flooded him. He shifted, trying to get up, and that was when he noticed the blanket. It made him stop, confused.

There was a blanket draped over him. Col had dislodged some of it in his terror, but it had definitely been placed there on purpose. It was unbelievably soft. He looked down and saw a small pillow that Master had tucked under his head.

His green eyes stared at it while his chest rose and fell, gradually coming down from his initial panic. Why? Wasn’t Master disgusted? Col had let himself in. He’d dirtied Master’s floor with his body.

He couldn’t even imagine what the punishment for this would have been at his old owner’s house. Not that he could have done it, chained up in the basement. But even so, Col knew he never would have dared. Something was different here. Either Master was more merciful, or Col was forgetting his place.

Looking around properly, Master wasn’t in the room with him. He must have woken up and found him. And- let him sleep.

. . .

Linden was only human, and waking up to see a man-shaped intrusion at the end of his bed did undoubtedly scare him. Luckily, it was no more than an instinctive jerk backwards, before he realised he was only looking at Col.

Bless his heart. He was curled up on the cold floor with absolutely nothing covering him, and appeared to still be fast asleep.

As quietly as he could, Linden padded to Col’s room first, just to check that nothing had happened- his bed hadn’t collapsed, or something like that. All looked well. He supposed that a nightmare, or even loneliness, were far more likely options. Next, he grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, and lightly tucked Col in.

He still deserved far more, but it was the most he would risk while Col was still sleeping peacefully. Linden was up now; even those small movements had been enough to get his blood flowing, and he knew he couldn’t go back to bed. So he headed downstairs, and hoped Col slept long and deeply.

-