You Taste Better Than A Gun
for @differentlybioticryou
His days didnât consist of Mondays or Fridays, they didnât account for holidays or weekends. His days only cycled through âworkingâ and âday offâ and they had for years since he joined the force.
The idea of Valentineâs Day wasnât lost on him but the date itself wasnât kept track of until someone inevitably mentioned it. The day of love and companionship, and the day he had spent like any other all these years: at work in his squad car.
But this year he had it off, and spent the morning in bed, asleep next to his undead rescue with his arm slung over the boyâs small waist. His breath was a slow pattern and his mind lingered somewhere on the verge of conscious, teetering between sleep and wake.
Candy hearts and roses, lavish gifts and warm kisses. He recalled relinquishing in that once too, long ago. He hadnât had another human body in this bed since his amore was taken from him, with only canines as companions to lick him awake only once they were hungry.
It had been nice to feel needed, even if it were just for a basic survival of a homebound dog, but like any relationship with a pet, it wasnât as reciprocated or deep as a human hopes it is.
But Oddball wasnât a dog. Oddball wasnât just a friend to come home to after work, he was a reason to stay at home. There was a pride in earning a smile from him, a warming in his soul and a calming of just having him near.
Marikuâs finger twitched against the teenâs hip and he drew a deep breath as sleep withdrew from him. He wrapped his arm around the boy and pulled him closer to his chest, nosing into his hair with a lazy kiss.
Even without a second heartbeat or a radiating warmth, the dead body inspired more life into Mariku than anything had in a very long time. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip and he pulled a second arm around Oddball, rolling himself into his back and the ragdoll of a human onto him.
Maybe there would be a kindness in this Valentineâs Day.
