The Sammy to my Dean

The Tator to my Tot

Then there's the Otter


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Was once kindly described by a friend as the smoke that rolls out of the barrel of a gun just after it's been shot. I am apt to agree. Take it as you will.
Was theunfinishedmelody

but imagine chuck with puppy max. the first couple of nights are hell because max is kind of spoiled and just wants attention, but maybe he misses his litter mates, too. but, either way, he cries into the wee hours. and herc told chuck from the beginning that this was his dog, he has to take care of it, so herc came into chucks room and threw a pillow at his head to wake him up, grumbling something along the lines of “go take care of your dog” before stumbling back to bed.

so, begrudgingly, chuck pulls himself out of bed, growling half-hearted cusses through his teeth as he goes and finds his dog curled up in the dog kennel. well, it’s not so much a kennel as a small fenced enclosure in the middle of their living room. and chuck squats down at the fence, carding his fingers through his already messy bedhead in sleepy, uncommitted frustration. little puppy max is curled up in the center of some blankets where he nested, crying his heart out. chuck would probably ask him what’s the problem or what’s the matter. max, still crying, would waddle his little puppy self up to the bars and press himself there, as close to chuck as possible, and cuddle up into a little ball. 

and chuck would want to be mad, he really would. it’s nearly two in the morning, for christ’s sake; he’s gotta be up at the ass-crack of dawn for training and workouts and he really can’t afford to try and stumble through classes or whatnot half asleep, again. but this little puppy is just melting his heart with those painful little whines and, where he would be cussing up a storm, chuck finds himself cooing out soft little assurances, just trying to make max feel safe, sticking his fingers through the bars to pet him. he’s just a dog, after all, just a little puppy who doesn’t know any better and is just scared and lonely.

it seems like forever, but really it’s only been maybe fifteen minutes, and chuck can barely keep his eyes open. max has calmed down, but every time chuck tries to walk away, he starts back that awful crying again. finally, with an exasperated sigh, chuck listlessly crawls over the fence, sleep deprivation really denying him his balance. finding a few blankets, he curls up to the best of his ability on the floor. max finds a nice warm spot at the center of chuck’s chest and settles in as close to him as possible. they both fall asleep that way and herc finds him the next morning but doesn’t say anything.

and tender chuck is just kind of important to me, okay??? 

Aug 23 at 1:40  with  20 notes
  1. roguepythia reblogged this from davecabbage and added:
    I don’t know whether to cry or squeal in delight! This is adorable and tender and yet so bittersweat cause Max is just...
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