Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Printable Version
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Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-16-2015
"Thanks." It came automatically, even if the vowels were draw out with uncertainty. It was a weird compliment, at a weird time, but his mother had taught him to be polite when someone said something nice about him, and it had stuck. He frowned when she frowned. He couldn't help it even though he knew she was doing it just to make fun of him. He smoothed a hand over his scruff-covered jaw, as if trying to remove the expression from his features. When he was convinced his face was somewhat neutral again, he continued. "Sorry. So, you're still you when you're a dog? You still think the same and everything. Just in toy poodle form?" He didn't want to admit it, but that was interesting. The scholar side of him was very intrigued by the concept. He was clearly surprised when she grabbed his hand. His entire body seemed to tense, his brow knitted above his nose and his lips parted slightly. He seemed to want to protest, or pull his hand away, but interestingly he did neither. He just let her hold his hand, and was really fucking awkward about it.
He swallowed hard, and eventually drew his eyes away from hers. He didn't know he'd been staring until he looked away. "Well, as we've established. I am not in charge of you. I'll just… show you where the room is."
Her hand was small, and soft, and warm in his, and he continued to hold it as a means to draw her away from the front door. He would continued to lead her by the hand, up the stairs and down the hall, if she decided not to protest. He brought her to a door at the end of the corridor, that he opened to reveal the guest bedroom. It was furnished like a room that actually belonged to someone. It was decorated in dark greens and blues and even had it's own television. A laptop was settled on the nightstand. "Uh. You can use whatever you want in here. It's all just extra stuff." He finally released her hand and shoved both of his in his pockets.
"Anyway, you know where to find me if you need me."
He rushed the words as quickly as he could and with that he did best to retreat to his own room at the opposite end of the hall before she could decide she needed something right then and there. He was actually just caught up in the whole hand-holding business. It was meaningless, overall, but it had been too long since he had touched another person so informally. It's not like he could stop her from following him back to his room, but could hope she would stay put.
He didn't even bother turning on the light or taking off his jeans. He only closed the door behind him and fell face first into his rumpled sheets, pulling a pillow over his head. He foolishly thought this would all be easier to deal with come morning and she was a poodle again.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-16-2015
She couldn't help but grin as he tried to hide his face, the reflexive frown. He simply did not know what to do with himself. She had some ideas, but she also had a hunch he wouldn't be amenable. No more than he'd been to any of her other suggestions. Or strong hints. Or outright declarations of intent.
"It's stupid, right?" She made a face. "Like, technically speaking, I'm pretty sure even just an alteration in size should permanently alter my consciousness, let alone literally all of my neurobiology, but instead it's like, welp, guess I'm a dog now. And you'd think, you know, magic and stuff, I'd be able to at least talk to dogs or something. But, nope! Can't speak a language I'm not socialized in. Like that's the part that has to make sense. Magic is dumb."
It was possible that the personality she was trying to convey did not actually support strong opinions on a physical theory of mind, but, well. Some things simply could not be borne in silence. Things like human brains in tiny dog bodies.
She may as well have slapped him for how he reacted to the way she took his hand, but he didn't try to take it back. Just stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Or turned into a dog. Her nose twitched, reflexively checking that she did not suddenly have a snout. It didn't work that way, but it never hurt to check. She was quite pleased to have him leading her by the hand, firstly because it was cute and secondly because it was intimate. If he didn't trust her enough to act intimate, she'd act intimate until she'd tricked him into trusting her.
(It was surprising how often that worked.)
It was disappointing when he let her go, and she didn't bother trying to hide it. "Thank you," she called after him as he retreated, though she did not follow. She waited until he'd closed the door, and another moment longer. Then she meandered back to the kitchen, because she still had half a pan of bacon and she wasn't letting it go to waste. She'd never actually been the biggest fan of most meat products before. Her favorite foods were cucumbers and plain yogurt. Now, suddenly, she just loved dead pigs in all their forms. Weird. In an attempt to be helpful, and with no understanding of how cast iron pans worked, she stuck the pan in the sink and covered it in dish soap.
Yup. So helpful. Downright domestic. Fortunately for Grayson, she was not feeling so helpful as to try scrubbing it. But she did raid his cupboards and pantry until she found a snack that was to her liking, and nabbed a beer from the back of the fridge while she was at it. Back to the guest room, and she settled in on the bed with absolutely no concern for getting crumbs or condensation on the comforter. She didn't bother closing the bedroom door, pulling all the pillows and blankets into a pile to build a sort of nest in the middle of the mattress.
This was a habit she'd had since long before she'd grown a tail.
Flipping through channels with the volume low, she giggled when she found – appropriately – a midnight marathon of a forensic true crime series. It brought back fond nostalgia for days when she'd been much younger and spent much more time high as a kite and having sex with women.
As one does.
Because her timing was impeccable, she was beginning to get sleepy just as the sun was starting to rise. She turned off the television and curled up in her cozy spot, and would remain curled there – though somewhat harder to find – after her transformation. Just your ordinary average teacup poodle, sleeping inside of a sweater and surrounded by wasabi peanuts and empty beer bottles.
"It's stupid, right?" She made a face. "Like, technically speaking, I'm pretty sure even just an alteration in size should permanently alter my consciousness, let alone literally all of my neurobiology, but instead it's like, welp, guess I'm a dog now. And you'd think, you know, magic and stuff, I'd be able to at least talk to dogs or something. But, nope! Can't speak a language I'm not socialized in. Like that's the part that has to make sense. Magic is dumb."
It was possible that the personality she was trying to convey did not actually support strong opinions on a physical theory of mind, but, well. Some things simply could not be borne in silence. Things like human brains in tiny dog bodies.
She may as well have slapped him for how he reacted to the way she took his hand, but he didn't try to take it back. Just stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Or turned into a dog. Her nose twitched, reflexively checking that she did not suddenly have a snout. It didn't work that way, but it never hurt to check. She was quite pleased to have him leading her by the hand, firstly because it was cute and secondly because it was intimate. If he didn't trust her enough to act intimate, she'd act intimate until she'd tricked him into trusting her.
(It was surprising how often that worked.)
It was disappointing when he let her go, and she didn't bother trying to hide it. "Thank you," she called after him as he retreated, though she did not follow. She waited until he'd closed the door, and another moment longer. Then she meandered back to the kitchen, because she still had half a pan of bacon and she wasn't letting it go to waste. She'd never actually been the biggest fan of most meat products before. Her favorite foods were cucumbers and plain yogurt. Now, suddenly, she just loved dead pigs in all their forms. Weird. In an attempt to be helpful, and with no understanding of how cast iron pans worked, she stuck the pan in the sink and covered it in dish soap.
Yup. So helpful. Downright domestic. Fortunately for Grayson, she was not feeling so helpful as to try scrubbing it. But she did raid his cupboards and pantry until she found a snack that was to her liking, and nabbed a beer from the back of the fridge while she was at it. Back to the guest room, and she settled in on the bed with absolutely no concern for getting crumbs or condensation on the comforter. She didn't bother closing the bedroom door, pulling all the pillows and blankets into a pile to build a sort of nest in the middle of the mattress.
This was a habit she'd had since long before she'd grown a tail.
Flipping through channels with the volume low, she giggled when she found – appropriately – a midnight marathon of a forensic true crime series. It brought back fond nostalgia for days when she'd been much younger and spent much more time high as a kite and having sex with women.
As one does.
Because her timing was impeccable, she was beginning to get sleepy just as the sun was starting to rise. She turned off the television and curled up in her cozy spot, and would remain curled there – though somewhat harder to find – after her transformation. Just your ordinary average teacup poodle, sleeping inside of a sweater and surrounded by wasabi peanuts and empty beer bottles.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-17-2015
He had not been particularly verbose before, but now it was more of a stunned silence. Finding himself pleasantly surprised at her grasp of metaphysical theory, though he would not give her the satisfaction of saying so. So, there was some intelligence rattling around beneath those curls; it had been rude of him to assume otherwise, having only held a conversation with her for a few minutes. A very one-sided conversation at that. Grayson never intended to be so off-put and suspicious when meeting someone new. He was slow to trust on principle, which came from years of being lead astray by putting faith in someone else.
And it wasn't like being wary of a poodle-turned-woman that you accidentally brought home was completely unreasonable.
He would have agreed that magic was indeed 'dumb' if he'd felt like seeking out some sort of camaraderie. It was honestly, his least favorite supernatural school of study. But once again, he denied her any sort of personal insight. All in all it was difficult to be in the mood to talk about anything substantial when she looked as attractive as she in his sweater.
Because it was a travesty that she was appealing to him at all.
He could have said you're welcome as he practically ran off and hid in his room, brooding and petulant. Except, she would eventually learn Grayson was accidentally rude as fuck.
And sometimes on purpose.
He wasn't sure how he felt about her roaming around his house. He had pushed the pillow off of his head and rolled over to consider the ceiling. Without his glasses the shadows cast across the white paint were swaying blobs caused by the Weeping Willow outside his wonder. He could hear her moving around downstairs; rifling around the kitchen. It took a great deal of effort not to get up again to explain to her that he had A System.
The muffled drone from her TV told him that she didn't close the door. He wouldn't complain, because it eventually put him to sleep.
He woke up because his room was too bright. Years of waking up before the sun, made doing so feel completely wrong. He sat up, blinking against the sunlight, and skirting his hands blindly across the sheets for his glasses. He held them in his hand as he got up and shuffled into the attached bathroom and went about his daily routine.
He traded his jeans, for an identical pair that he hadn't slept in and pulled a plain, maroon t-shirt over his head. His glasses were now on his face, and his hair looked like a more deliberate mess. He went down stairs, medication in hand, to make himself some coffee.
He had almost forgotten that there was woman that magically turned into a poodle in his house. That she had somehow coerced him into letting her stay there for an amount of time that had yet to be determined. The sight of his good cast iron pan in the sink, filled with water and, to his utter horror soap, brought everything back in a whirlwind. He dropped his phone and a small handful of pills onto the counter to retrieve his pan from the hell it had endured over night. He could have screamed, but he didn't. Could have marched upstairs and put a small dog out on the street, but he didn't. He would take deep breaths and start a pot of coffee as originally planned.
Properly cleaning and re-seasoning the pan was going to be an ordeal. You bet your sweet ass he was going to spend all late morning doing it, though.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-17-2015
Sleeping for extended periods was, honestly, kind of difficult. Not like if she were a cat. Why couldn't she have been a cat? Cat ears would have been a million times sexier. Then again: rough tongues. So, it sort of balanced out. Kind of. In a way.
Twelve hour naps would have been hella rad, though.
The real problem was that just about everything woke her up. Normal dogs probably just went right back to sleep, because they didn't give a fuck. But Nadine woke up to clattering in the kitchen, and she wanted to see what was happening. She wanted to know if there was breakfast, and if he walked around shirtless all the time, and if he still smelled so nice. She wanted some fucking water, because she was super dehydrated and being hungover while a dog was honestly awful.
Mostly, though, she was curious. Another tick in the 'should have been a cat' column.
She stretched and wiggled and rolled around, and wondered if she ought to do something about the mess she had made. Then again, maybe she should have done that when she had thumbs. Still, if he got mad at her while she was goddamn tiny, it was… scarier. Kind of. She was always slightly more inclined to please when she was fluffinated, yet another irritant.
If she was a cat she could do whatever she wanted. Harrumph.
She settled for grabbing a corner of the comforter with her teeth, and dragging it over the whole pile. Pillows, garbage, the remote control. All of it one uniform lump, which might have only been things that belonged in a bed, for all he knew. Then she leapt out of bed, and resolved to set a chair by the bedside next time to make things easier. She took a detour into his room to try, once again, to jump on his bed. Once again, she failed. Yet another chair-related mission. She may have also, in theory, been checking to see if he left his wallet anywhere that she could reach. Just for future reference.
Getting down the stairs was an adventure. If she displaced her hips falling down those things she was making him pay the vet bills. Or medical bills. She really didn't want to think about the logistics of how something like that would work. Better to avoid getting hurt than the find out the repercussions.
Make it to the first floor: success. Coffee! She could go for some coffee. Somehow she didn't think he'd be pouring her a cup. Even if she did that cute thing where she got up on her back legs and begged. She trotted to the living room instead, and tried to jump on the couch.
Goddamn. Why was all his furniture so fucking tall? How long were his legs? No one needed their couch this high off the ground. In civilized countries people sat on the floor, and they liked it. Stupid fucking couch. She jumped on the coffee table, instead, although she nearly slid off on the other side of it. Because it was dumb. Like all furniture. She pawed aggressively at his remote until it turned the TV on, then at the channel buttons until she found Moose In The Morning.
Good ol' Moose In The Morning.
Then she jumped from the table to the couch, because her life was a fucking platformer now, and curled up by the armrest to watch TV and wait for yummy things to appear.
Twelve hour naps would have been hella rad, though.
The real problem was that just about everything woke her up. Normal dogs probably just went right back to sleep, because they didn't give a fuck. But Nadine woke up to clattering in the kitchen, and she wanted to see what was happening. She wanted to know if there was breakfast, and if he walked around shirtless all the time, and if he still smelled so nice. She wanted some fucking water, because she was super dehydrated and being hungover while a dog was honestly awful.
Mostly, though, she was curious. Another tick in the 'should have been a cat' column.
She stretched and wiggled and rolled around, and wondered if she ought to do something about the mess she had made. Then again, maybe she should have done that when she had thumbs. Still, if he got mad at her while she was goddamn tiny, it was… scarier. Kind of. She was always slightly more inclined to please when she was fluffinated, yet another irritant.
If she was a cat she could do whatever she wanted. Harrumph.
She settled for grabbing a corner of the comforter with her teeth, and dragging it over the whole pile. Pillows, garbage, the remote control. All of it one uniform lump, which might have only been things that belonged in a bed, for all he knew. Then she leapt out of bed, and resolved to set a chair by the bedside next time to make things easier. She took a detour into his room to try, once again, to jump on his bed. Once again, she failed. Yet another chair-related mission. She may have also, in theory, been checking to see if he left his wallet anywhere that she could reach. Just for future reference.
Getting down the stairs was an adventure. If she displaced her hips falling down those things she was making him pay the vet bills. Or medical bills. She really didn't want to think about the logistics of how something like that would work. Better to avoid getting hurt than the find out the repercussions.
Make it to the first floor: success. Coffee! She could go for some coffee. Somehow she didn't think he'd be pouring her a cup. Even if she did that cute thing where she got up on her back legs and begged. She trotted to the living room instead, and tried to jump on the couch.
Goddamn. Why was all his furniture so fucking tall? How long were his legs? No one needed their couch this high off the ground. In civilized countries people sat on the floor, and they liked it. Stupid fucking couch. She jumped on the coffee table, instead, although she nearly slid off on the other side of it. Because it was dumb. Like all furniture. She pawed aggressively at his remote until it turned the TV on, then at the channel buttons until she found Moose In The Morning.
Good ol' Moose In The Morning.
Then she jumped from the table to the couch, because her life was a fucking platformer now, and curled up by the armrest to watch TV and wait for yummy things to appear.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-17-2015
Grayson grunted his annoyance as he set the phone back down. How and why Lace garnered so much amusement from the idea of him with a tiny dog was lost on him. Luckily, he would never have to explain that the tiny dog was actually a tiny woman, and now lived with him. More or less. He would just keep the details to himself and hope that the Lieutenant forgot about the poodle altogether. Lace would lose her shit if she found out, not even in what he would consider the good way. She would be absolutely gleeful with such an unusual turn of events. She'd probably even... what was it? He had a hard time remembering all the strange, niche, buzzwords she used from spending to much time online. Ship? Yeah, that sounded right. She'd probably ship Grayson x Tiny Poodle Woman for the rest of her days.
He was still stuck with the problem of what to feed her. Human-Aida liked bacon, but that didn't really feel like something he could expect a dog to live on. Was she capable of eating the same things she could as a human? Did he need to hide any chocolate and avocados for fear of finding her dead in the middle of the floor one night? He groaned again and rubbed his hands over his face, pushing his glasses out of the way and simply wallowing in his misfortune until he heard the TV come on in the living room.
His hands dropped and his glasses fell back into place, though somewhat askew. He stood from where he'd been sitting at the breakfast nook, and adjusted them as he walked to the fridge. She had mentioned something about ham the night before, if he recalled correctly.
It was absolutely ludicrous, he thought to himself moments later as he cutting a selection of ham and cheese into teacup poodle-bite-size pieces. Grayson was not an animal person, let alone a dog person. Additionally, if he was a dog person, he'd like to think he'd want something big and useful. Like a German Shepherd or a Siberian Husky.
When he appeared in the living room, he had with him a plate with the small-food assortment and a ramekin; a bottle of water was tucked under his arm. He wasn't completely sure about poodle-Aida being on the couch, but reprimanding her for it seemed like something human-Aida wouldn't let him live down. He set the plate and ramekin onto the coffee table, filling the ceramic bowl with water.
He also wasn't completely sure about what she was watching. He was tempted to ask, because he knew she could understand. He also knew she couldn't respond however, and that would just leave him feeling foolish. He gestured to the set up on the table.
"I didn't know if you were hungry, or whatever," he scratched at his beard awkwardly. "I guess we will have to talk about things for you to eat when you're a poodle, later." He regretted saying it, as he moved to sit in the middle of the couch. It made it sound like a permanent arrangement when he did.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-17-2015
She sat up as Grayson entered the living room, and the wagging of her tail was reflexive. "Grayson," she said, which he could not understand, because she was barking, "is that what I think it is? Is that for me? If that's not for me I'm going to be so pissed, dude." She watched him set it down, wagging all the while, but was not so rude as to get up until he confirmed that he'd made her… brunch? Brunch. She'd go with brunch. Immediately she stood. How best to express gratitude? Spin in a circle. Yes. Everyone understood that. Spinning in a circle meant hell yeah. Even for people, generally.
"Oh my god, you are a saint. Seriously. This is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I love this." Shit, why not, a barrel roll for emphasis. Then she hopped into his lap to try and lick his face. Dogs were allowed to lick faces, right? Okay, fine, maybe not. It was easier to get onto the coffee table by gently walking down his leg and getting onto the table that way. Less likely to jump into the bowl and ruin everything.
"For real, man. For this? You get remote control privileges. Yeah, that's right. You done good. Good boy. Wait, this is backwards." She used her nose to push the remote control in his direction, in case he was not interested in watching the gentle majesty of a moose living out its life. Then she drank what felt like a colossal amount of water, and which was probably more like a quarter cup. Ironically, she was much more dainty about her drinking as a dog. Much less of it got all over her face, for instance. She then gently set a piece of cheese on top of a piece of ham in a makeshift sandwich, and once again, ate much more nicely than she did as a person.
When she was people-shaped, she was actually much less likely to chew her food. It was a bad habit, probably, and she didn't know what it said about her that only being a dog had cured it.
She hopped back onto his knee and flopped over into his lap, curling up like she belonged there. She was trying to look nonchalant, but her tail was wagging furiously.
goddamn tail needs to calm the fuck down, making me look all desperate and shit
"Oh my god, you are a saint. Seriously. This is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I love this." Shit, why not, a barrel roll for emphasis. Then she hopped into his lap to try and lick his face. Dogs were allowed to lick faces, right? Okay, fine, maybe not. It was easier to get onto the coffee table by gently walking down his leg and getting onto the table that way. Less likely to jump into the bowl and ruin everything.
"For real, man. For this? You get remote control privileges. Yeah, that's right. You done good. Good boy. Wait, this is backwards." She used her nose to push the remote control in his direction, in case he was not interested in watching the gentle majesty of a moose living out its life. Then she drank what felt like a colossal amount of water, and which was probably more like a quarter cup. Ironically, she was much more dainty about her drinking as a dog. Much less of it got all over her face, for instance. She then gently set a piece of cheese on top of a piece of ham in a makeshift sandwich, and once again, ate much more nicely than she did as a person.
When she was people-shaped, she was actually much less likely to chew her food. It was a bad habit, probably, and she didn't know what it said about her that only being a dog had cured it.
She hopped back onto his knee and flopped over into his lap, curling up like she belonged there. She was trying to look nonchalant, but her tail was wagging furiously.
goddamn tail needs to calm the fuck down, making me look all desperate and shit
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-17-2015
He appeared off-put at first - what, with all the barking. He stopped in the doorway, looking down at her slightly confused before continuing into the room. He watched her spin circle, with her tail going non-stop and he was smiling even though he didn't want to. Nothing major, there was no show of teeth, or anything close to the wide grins she had utilized the night before. Just a small curve of lips on one side of his mouth. The barking continued and he now assumed it was gratitude. He was a fast learner and hopefully dog body language was something that was easy to pick up. He leaned forward to take the remote since she seemed to be offering it, before watching her eat for a heartbeat. So, this was okay. He didn't change the channel, only half watching as a baby moose trudged through a lake with it's mother. He could totally handle poodle-form. Poodle form was downright adorable, and almost polite.
She hopped onto his lap as soon as he turned his attention away from her. He froze, momentarily, in between changing the channel to the afternoon news. He was pretty sure he should protest this development. Just go ahead and nip the whole cuddling concept right in the bud. But, she curled up, and he relaxed slightly, because this was totally okay. Right? She was a dog, and if she wanted to behave like one he supposed it was her prerogative. Tentatively, he brushed his hand along her back. Her tail was still wagging furiously, and in a bit of boldness he gently scratched behind her hears.
This was totally okay. Not weird at all. Nope. He could handle this.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-17-2015
Nadine stretched out her paws against his leg, splaying out her toes with a very dramatic yawn before curling them back underneath her. A tidy little puppyloaf. Yup. Definitely not getting in the way enough to bother moving her. So tiny. So polite. So convenient. His hand brushed against her, and she sighed, a little exhalation through her nose as she rested her head against his leg. Then he gave her a gentle scratch, and she leaned into it a little.
It was very weird, being a dog. Not in the ways one would anticipate it being weird. But everything felt… off. Some disconnect between her mind and her body, maybe. Like she was numb, or wearing a suit, like her nerve endings were all too deep under her skin. Every night was a revelation, like bursting out of a cocoon, suddenly able to feel again in all the ways she couldn't. Maybe it was a mercy, when so many things would have hurt, otherwise.
It was still nice, being… petted. For lack of a better term. A reminder that she was a real living thing that existed in the world. Certainly more affectionate than he was when she was woman-shaped, though she couldn't appreciate it the same way. She tilted her head back suddenly to lick his fingers – just because – before resting her head with another sigh.
Snuggling on the couch and watching TV with snacks. Pretty much a perfect date. Aside from the part where she was a dog.
It was very weird, being a dog. Not in the ways one would anticipate it being weird. But everything felt… off. Some disconnect between her mind and her body, maybe. Like she was numb, or wearing a suit, like her nerve endings were all too deep under her skin. Every night was a revelation, like bursting out of a cocoon, suddenly able to feel again in all the ways she couldn't. Maybe it was a mercy, when so many things would have hurt, otherwise.
It was still nice, being… petted. For lack of a better term. A reminder that she was a real living thing that existed in the world. Certainly more affectionate than he was when she was woman-shaped, though she couldn't appreciate it the same way. She tilted her head back suddenly to lick his fingers – just because – before resting her head with another sigh.
Snuggling on the couch and watching TV with snacks. Pretty much a perfect date. Aside from the part where she was a dog.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-18-2015
It was an easy enough thing to get accustomed to, and he found the fact rather unfortunate. He hardly noticed her presence as he watched the news. His hand still continued it's timed motions across her furred back. When the program was over he switched it back to the Discovery Channel, before some catty talk show came on, because she seemed to like that. When she licked his fingers, he halted. He removed his hand from her fur and scratched the back of his neck. When he put his hand back down it was solidly at his side. For whatever reason he allowed her to remain cuddled against he legs. It might have something to do with his medication that remained long forgotten in the kitchen.
Most of his day seemed to have gotten lost watching an HD presentation of Planet Ocean. He also resumed his gentle petting, eventually. He couldn't remember the last time he'd just sat down and watched TV. Or a documentary that wasn't about something paranormal or forensic. He didn't look at his phone at all. Which was outrageous really.
"I'm hungry," he complains in between a segment about beluga whales and porpoises. "Are you hungry?" He asks down to the poodle loaf in his lap. He looked out the window. It looked a little sunset-y out there? He rubbed a hand over his face. "Or, are going to change soon? I've really no idea."
He huffed a little, but didn't get up or remove the animal from his lap.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-18-2015
Much as she was loathe to miss out on quality cuddle time, but it didn't take long for her to fall asleep. He was warm and soft, and the rhythm of petting and the calm drone of documentaries lulled her. Even as a dog, her sleep was dreamless, so she didn't twitch or bark. Not until he spoke, and she jerked into something like wakefulness.
He probably wasn't too far off, because the days were short this time of year. The summer solstice was some goddamn bullshit, but that was a ways off yet. She attempted to pat his leg reassuringly, drowsing again. Unfortunately, at her size, it was very hard to be dainty. Everything was just too damn small. Tiny steps turned into big stomps, little jumps turned into leaps; it was like being a teenager again, all that clumsiness and gangle in a tiny little package. Which was why she lifted her paw high above her head, and dropped it down on his leg like she was trying to smack some sense into him. Repeatedly.
Well, damn.
Before she could flail at him anymore – or fall back asleep, in defiance of his complaints – she felt her toes tingle, and she sighed. She uncurled from her puppyloaf, kicking her hind legs back and her stretching her paws in the most undignified of flops. And even though she'd gone limp, she kept stretching and stretching, her limbs getting longer and her fur getting shorter, until a very naked women was draped over his lap.
"I'm up," she said groggily, pressing her palms against the couch and lifting herself up. Very briefly. And then she collapsed again. "I'm up," she repeated, less convincingly, running a hand through her hair. "Mmmph." She curled her arms under her head to rest it on them. "I could eat," she said, and her back arched as she tried to stretch a little. "Ugh. I should shower. I probably smell like dog."
He probably wasn't too far off, because the days were short this time of year. The summer solstice was some goddamn bullshit, but that was a ways off yet. She attempted to pat his leg reassuringly, drowsing again. Unfortunately, at her size, it was very hard to be dainty. Everything was just too damn small. Tiny steps turned into big stomps, little jumps turned into leaps; it was like being a teenager again, all that clumsiness and gangle in a tiny little package. Which was why she lifted her paw high above her head, and dropped it down on his leg like she was trying to smack some sense into him. Repeatedly.
Well, damn.
Before she could flail at him anymore – or fall back asleep, in defiance of his complaints – she felt her toes tingle, and she sighed. She uncurled from her puppyloaf, kicking her hind legs back and her stretching her paws in the most undignified of flops. And even though she'd gone limp, she kept stretching and stretching, her limbs getting longer and her fur getting shorter, until a very naked women was draped over his lap.
"I'm up," she said groggily, pressing her palms against the couch and lifting herself up. Very briefly. And then she collapsed again. "I'm up," she repeated, less convincingly, running a hand through her hair. "Mmmph." She curled her arms under her head to rest it on them. "I could eat," she said, and her back arched as she tried to stretch a little. "Ugh. I should shower. I probably smell like dog."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-18-2015
He reached down to scratch beneath her chin with his index finger, as an apology for waking her. "You're going to have to learn Morse code or something." He said in response to all the tapping. It was cute, and he told a joke. He told a joke. And then he chuckled. It was a strange sound in his ears, and the smile that lingered on his lips was unusually kind. She started to stretch and then she started to change and Grayson watched with an unparalleled interest. He couldn't help but to be fascinated by the prospect, given the years he spent studying things just like this. It was a simple transformation. None of the gore of a true shifter. One minute she was a dog, and then she wasn't.
The end result was a naked woman sprawled over his lap and his hands went up automatically. She arched against him and he tried to look away. There was only so much he could do though, it wasn't often he was in the sort of predicament.
It wasn't ever.
He cleared his throat as if to point out her positioning while he adjusted his glasses.
"Uh, feel free to use the shower," he stutters out, finally managing to keep his gaze on the television. "I'll order something. Pizza?"
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-18-2015
Here he'd just been starting to relax, and the instant she got pretty he went stiff again.
And not the fun kind.
Well.
Kind of the fun kind.
With a sleepy hum her hand slid up his chest, gripped his shoulder so she could pull herself upright. She twisted as she came up, so that she was sitting across his lap and resting her head on his other shoulder. "Thank you for lunch," she murmured. "I said it before, but I don't think you could understand me. That was really sweet." At the same time as she was speaking, the index finger of the hand on his shoulder was tapping out a rhythm. And… stroking?
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-stroke. Tap-stroke-stroke-tap.
She giggled. "You should get… hm." She tilted her head back to think, then shrugged. "I don't know why I'm acting like I care," she admitted. "It's not like there's bad pizza. If you get chain instead of local I'll probs make fun of you, though." She frowned, then, turning her shoulders and stretching awkwardly to scratch at a spot between her shoulderblades. "A-ny-way," she said, wiggling in his lap so that she could slide off of him, twirling on the balls of her feet so that she faced him (and, not coincidentally, so he couldn't see her tail). "If you decide you wanna help me wash my hair," she teased, rumpling the curls in question demonstratively, "you know where to find me." She flounced away, swaying to the tune that she was humming.
Nadine did not necessarily need to shower whenever she stopped being a dog. It was theoretically an extended period where she didn't even sweat. But even if she hadn't had to use the bathroom anyway, she just needed something. Ironically, nothing made her want to roll herself all over the carpet like not being a dog anymore. Or rub her hands all over herself. A hard spray of cold water was much more efficient, all told.
"… and if we go someplace to dance I know that there's a chance…"
And not the fun kind.
Well.
Kind of the fun kind.
With a sleepy hum her hand slid up his chest, gripped his shoulder so she could pull herself upright. She twisted as she came up, so that she was sitting across his lap and resting her head on his other shoulder. "Thank you for lunch," she murmured. "I said it before, but I don't think you could understand me. That was really sweet." At the same time as she was speaking, the index finger of the hand on his shoulder was tapping out a rhythm. And… stroking?
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-stroke. Tap-stroke-stroke-tap.
She giggled. "You should get… hm." She tilted her head back to think, then shrugged. "I don't know why I'm acting like I care," she admitted. "It's not like there's bad pizza. If you get chain instead of local I'll probs make fun of you, though." She frowned, then, turning her shoulders and stretching awkwardly to scratch at a spot between her shoulderblades. "A-ny-way," she said, wiggling in his lap so that she could slide off of him, twirling on the balls of her feet so that she faced him (and, not coincidentally, so he couldn't see her tail). "If you decide you wanna help me wash my hair," she teased, rumpling the curls in question demonstratively, "you know where to find me." She flounced away, swaying to the tune that she was humming.
Nadine did not necessarily need to shower whenever she stopped being a dog. It was theoretically an extended period where she didn't even sweat. But even if she hadn't had to use the bathroom anyway, she just needed something. Ironically, nothing made her want to roll herself all over the carpet like not being a dog anymore. Or rub her hands all over herself. A hard spray of cold water was much more efficient, all told.
"… and if we go someplace to dance I know that there's a chance…"
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-19-2015
He pressed himself tight against the couch as if there was away to get away from her. A hand snaked up his chest and his held his breath, but only because it stuck in his throat. "Your welcome," he mumbles, that ingrained politeness rearing it’s head again. Instinctively, he placed a hand against the small of her back when she leaned against him. Her skin was soft and warm, and he had to resist the urge to rub his thumb over it. He spread the other arm across the back of the couch, fingers closed in a tight fist. Which didn't look any better than if he'd been clutching the fabric. He dropped his hand from her back and finally release the held breath as subtly as he could when she turned away from him. Grayson was but a man after all, and they could really only resist so much. They were simple creatures, so he allowed his eyes to sweep over her when he thought she couldn't see.
"I don't get chain," he explains to smother her doubts. He leaned forward when she was off his lap, and leaned his elbows on his knees. He buried his face behind his hand with a groan. This was clearly his response to her offer to join her.
He certainly did not watch her flounce.
When she was gone and he felt like he could breathe properly again, he grabbed his cell off the coffee table and leaned back. Ordering pizza would probably be the easiest thing he dealt with that night, so when he was finished he walked to the kitchen because he already needed a beer.
Gulping the liquid down, he leaned against the counter and waited for her to return. He really hoped she would be wearing something. Anything. Right now he didn't even care.
Thinking on it harder her cared a little. He was pretty sure that was nothing she could find that was worse than his sweater.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-19-2015
Nadine used Grayson's toothbrush. Again. Because dental hygiene was important. Then, towel wrapped around her, she wandered into 'her' room and considered the sweater she'd been wearing before. Technically speaking, it was the only thing he'd given her to wear. But wearing the same thing two days in a row… ick. She tossed it to the floor. While she was at it, she collected the trash that she'd left on the bed and threw it in the little wire trash can. And hid the trash can under the desk.
So stealth.
She wandered into his room, instead, and started digging through his clothes with an assessing eye. She decided on a decently-sized dress shirt without a liner in the collar in the cuffs. Her towel dropped to the floor, and she put on the shirt such that it was under her arms, buttoned up enough to stay up over her chest. She took the unused arms, and wrapped them around her waist, tying them behind her back. Instant strapless dress. She found a mirror to look at herself, and frowned. He probably wouldn't have any necklaces she could wear. Or bracelets. Or thigh-highs.
Goddamn, but she missed thigh highs.
Nadine dug through Grayson's things again until she found a tie in a solid color, because she had some standards and the only good patterned ties looked like pianos and were worn by old men in suspenders. Unfortunately, she couldn't actually seem to tie the damn thing around her neck. She almost got it, once, but the knot was backwards. She huffed as she undid the knot with a scowl.
Wait, no. She could use this. Yes. This was fine, and also good.
She went downstairs, still fidgeting with the tie around her neck. "Grayson?" she called. She found him in the kitchen, and she approached him with a pout. "I can't remember how to tie these," she said. "Can you do it for me?"
So stealth.
She wandered into his room, instead, and started digging through his clothes with an assessing eye. She decided on a decently-sized dress shirt without a liner in the collar in the cuffs. Her towel dropped to the floor, and she put on the shirt such that it was under her arms, buttoned up enough to stay up over her chest. She took the unused arms, and wrapped them around her waist, tying them behind her back. Instant strapless dress. She found a mirror to look at herself, and frowned. He probably wouldn't have any necklaces she could wear. Or bracelets. Or thigh-highs.
Goddamn, but she missed thigh highs.
Nadine dug through Grayson's things again until she found a tie in a solid color, because she had some standards and the only good patterned ties looked like pianos and were worn by old men in suspenders. Unfortunately, she couldn't actually seem to tie the damn thing around her neck. She almost got it, once, but the knot was backwards. She huffed as she undid the knot with a scowl.
Wait, no. She could use this. Yes. This was fine, and also good.
She went downstairs, still fidgeting with the tie around her neck. "Grayson?" she called. She found him in the kitchen, and she approached him with a pout. "I can't remember how to tie these," she said. "Can you do it for me?"
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-19-2015
Grayson spent most of his time alone, brooding. A bad habit of his, overall, but it couldn't be helped. He took long drinks of the beer, as if it would, but the only result was that it was gone too quickly. With a meaningless shrug, he dropped the empty bottle into the recycling container and rooted through the fridge for another one. He could have sworn there were more in there the day before. Frowning, he closed the door, and popped off the top of his new bottle. He could hear Adia moving around upstairs. If she chose to stay around, he'd be back to buying groceries were too. It wasn't too inconvenient since he had still not quite stopped, but that didn't stop him from being angry about it.
He'd been considering the stainless steel door of his refrigerator entirely too hard, when he heard his name. He turned around as she appeared in the alcove and nearly choked on the beverage. He put the glass down as he sputtered, swallowing hard and turning away from her. She was dark skin and wet ringlets in a shirt that wasn't his. A shirt he could have down without seeing - let alone seeing it on her.
Aida moved closer and Grayson seemed to freeze like a small rodent hiding from a stalking fox. When she was close enough he forced himself to relax and he pulled the strip of fabric from her neck. He tried to behave as if he had any sort of composure. "Where did you find that shirt?" He tried to sound casual, as he rotated the tie to put the wider end over her opposite shoulder, but his voice was too muddled - too soft. Fingers brushed across her collarbones as he worked the tie into a half Windsor knot. When he was finished he allowed the fabric to slip through his fingers, as he pulled way.