#drive2011

It was late, gone midnight. Driver had promised he would be home by eleven, but there was no sign of him. Part of you worried maybe he’d gotten himself into some trouble he couldn’t handle, the streets of LA were rough and tumble for a man like him. You try not to think about it like that, swallowing down the burn of anxiety that bubbled in the back of your throat.

You adjust your position at the dining table, hands folded in front of you to stop yourself from picking up the phone. You weren’t supposed to call him after nine, he didn’t want you getting caught up in whatever he was doing if he was around the wrong kind of people. You didn’t really know what that meant, and he refused to say any more.

Half past now. Your anxiety was slowly being taken over by frustration, maybe an additional emotion blooming as the fear of something being deeply wrong subsided and your worrisome, exhausted consciousness decided it was his fault he was late. You got up, moving over towards the landline and the porch door swung open.

THUNK, THUNK. borf!

You turn, the front door was the next to open, and there he stood. His signature jacket slightly dirty, and his strong arms are curled around his chest holding.. a dog? You sigh, unimpressed, and his lips curl into a sheepish smile.

“You’re late.” you point out, but he already knows that, you can tell in the way his blue eyes nervously dart to the ticking clock on the wall and his throat bobs as he swallows. His eyes return to you and he steps further into the house, his presence alerts a few of the other animals deeper in the home and two of them come scurrying out of the living room. A dane and a boxer. They approach him, tails wagging furiously with enthusiasm, they’re so happy to see him, unaware of the bundle of fur in his arms.

“got distracted.” He finally speaks, closing the main door behind him, moving through the sea of dogs as two others join you both in the now very crowded kitchen. He wades through them, making a job out of shrugging off his jacket, trying not to disturb the small creature in his arms. Then, he’s in front of you, draping his jacket across the back of the dining chair. “Found him in a dumpster after a call, couldn’t just leave him there.” Driver holds out the small being, its tiny, black, beaded eyes look up at you. You feel your heart melt like it did with all the others, the others now impatiently flocking around you for food.

Logically, you should tell him that you’ll take it to a shelter, that you have no more room at the inn, but his eyes are glowing with that rare softness that only comes when he finds a dog that he thinks he can give the best care to. That you both can. Driver nudges the small puppy closer, his smile turning into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon.. look at him.” The blonde mumbles, and the puppy, as if on cue, yawns. You feel your eyebrows bow as your expression softens. Fuck, you think.

“We can’t,” You start, but the whisper of a pout that crosses your boyfriend’s face makes you suck the words back in. Maybe another dog wouldn’t be terrible. You look around at the pack of five that are all gathered in the feeding corner of your kitchen, sniffing around at their empty metal bowls and head butting each other, then your gaze focuses back on the small thing in Driver’s hands. It fits in just two of his cupped palms, a sweet innocent being. You know arguing about this would be futile, your lover had always been this way.

He saw the reflection of a younger him in the faces of all of the mutts he’d bring home and care for, he knew what it felt like to be out on the streets with nobody to care for you or not knowing where your next meal would come from. So your shoulders relax and a smile cracks at your expression.

“You, are so annoying.” You state plainly, and his grin erupts into an ear to ear shit eating smile. You reach a hand out and ruffle the fur of the puppy, then retract it with a yelp. “Bath! bath! we need to give it a bath, those are fucking fleas!”

Driver can’t help but release a bubble of laughter, walking off towards the bathroom.

END.