About two weeks after Sam had moved in, they had their first movie night together. It had been Sam's idea, even texting Bill while Rhys was in the shower to talk about the idea
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Rhys chuckles. "She'd eat you alive, man, and you know it. Stick with 'politely fearful' and we're all better off." His voice is warm with affection, though. Knowing that Tuck's gotten so comfortable with his family so quickly means the world to him, and Ellen is one of the people that means the most to him. "I'm just terrified what happens when she meets Carla. And they talk. I am so doomed, you know." He smiles, though...he's so used to getting bullied by the women in his life, it's kind of a given at this point. And, though he might not admit it? It's kind of nice.
"He's good for Sam," Rhys agrees. "Knew he would be. And now that someone's home all the time, might think about heading down to the pound myself. Was thinking about it once I knew I'd have a yard, but, y'know. Late shifts and everything else, I wasn't sure." It didn't make sense to get a dog when he wasn't going to be home enough to take care of it, plus with the uncertainty after the attack...but now that things were a little more stable, and knowing that it would do Sam a lot of good? It was worth seriously thinking about. Rhys had always liked dogs, and even when he'd practically been living at the auto yard, he'd adopted a canny old witch of a German Shepard that he'd named Magda. There were still pictures of the two of them in his cigar box, even, a bony, half-grown, oil-streaked Rhys grinning with the dog at his feet.
Rhys sifts his fingertips through Tuck's shorter hair, before he settles back down with his head on his chest. Content, quiet. He can relax, it's okay to let himself, and he's finally starting to let himself believe that. They're okay, they have good things to look forward to, and whatever Bill brings him back, he'll be happy with, so long as he comes back safe. "Mmm. Good. I'll put a nice, long backrub on the card for when you get back, too, in that case."
"He's good for Sam," Rhys agrees. "Knew he would be. And now that someone's home all the time, might think about heading down to the pound myself. Was thinking about it once I knew I'd have a yard, but, y'know. Late shifts and everything else, I wasn't sure." It didn't make sense to get a dog when he wasn't going to be home enough to take care of it, plus with the uncertainty after the attack...but now that things were a little more stable, and knowing that it would do Sam a lot of good? It was worth seriously thinking about. Rhys had always liked dogs, and even when he'd practically been living at the auto yard, he'd adopted a canny old witch of a German Shepard that he'd named Magda. There were still pictures of the two of them in his cigar box, even, a bony, half-grown, oil-streaked Rhys grinning with the dog at his feet.
Rhys sifts his fingertips through Tuck's shorter hair, before he settles back down with his head on his chest. Content, quiet. He can relax, it's okay to let himself, and he's finally starting to let himself believe that. They're okay, they have good things to look forward to, and whatever Bill brings him back, he'll be happy with, so long as he comes back safe. "Mmm. Good. I'll put a nice, long backrub on the card for when you get back, too, in that case."
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