Fic: The Wag of a Dog's Tail
Title: The Wag of a Dog's Tail
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: G
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. WILD CARD: Pets (Word Count: 3,046)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Fluff
Author's Notes: I wrote this not intending it to be such a homage to a certain Disney movie, but somehow it just ended up that way. Brownie points if you can figure out which movie that is. (HINT: Just look at the title :P)
It was late in the afternoon when it happened. Mohinder had just gotten home from work less than an hour ago and despite the fact that he was showered and changed, the stress of the day was still clinging to him. Molly was in the living room finishing up her homework, Matt would be getting off of work soon, and tonight was Mohinder's turn to cook dinner. He was busy pulling out the necessary pots and pans from the kitchen cabinet -- the oven having barely begun its preheating process -- when there came a knock at the door.
"I'll get it!" Molly offered automatically, eager to get away from doing anymore school work.
"No, I'll get it," Mohinder said, seeing right through the girl's motives. "You just focus on your math homework."
Molly gave a soft groan, reluctantly sitting back down to focus on the worksheets and notebooks spread out in front of her, as Mohinder headed towards the door.
However, when he looked through the peep hole he saw that the hallway was now completely empty. He hummed softly as he opened the door, reasoning that it must have been someone dropping off a flyer or an ad at the doorstep. As soon as the door was opened, his ears were greeted by the sound of high pitched whining.
Mohinder's eyes nearly tripled when he looked down and found a pair of wide brown eyes staring up at him. At his feet sat a large white box wrapped with a big red bow and a puppy sitting inside with a matching ribbon tied around its neck. The puppy had a thick coat of wavy black fur and floppy ears. Its long thin tail was curved in a half circle and its front paws were encased with white hair. It whine pathetically before standing up, resting its front paws against the edge of the box and begged with its wide eyes to be picked up.
"Oh my God," Mohinder breathed, crouching down to get a better look at the dog. "Where did you come from?"
The pup's only response was a quick yip as Mohinder picked it up and inspected it carefully. The dog -- a male -- looked fairly healthy to his untrained eyes. Its fur was soft and glossy and it didn't seem to be hurt or underfed in anyway. Of course, once the dog was in his hand, he instantly began to lick and sniff every single inch of Mohinder's skin.
"It's a puppy!"
Mohinder wasn't at all surprised to turn around and find Molly standing next to him, staring at the dog as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. She cooed and gushed, running her eager hand over the puppy's soft fur. In turn, the pup wagged its tail and eagerly licked at her fingers.
"She's so cute!" Molly squealed. "Can we keep her Mohinder? Please?"
"It's a 'he' actually," Mohinder corrected, reluctant to hand the puppy over to Molly and risk her getting attached to it. There was no possible way they could keep this dog. Their lives were busy enough as it was and adding a young an untrained animal to the mix would only cause disaster. "And I'm afraid we can't keep him. What if he belongs to someone?"
"But he's a present, see?" Molly said pointing at the red ribbon tied around the dog's neck. "Whoever left him here wanted us to have him."
"He could have been meant for someone else," he reasoned. "All these doors look alike after all."
"Can I at least hold him?" Molly pleaded. He was about to say no, because the dog could be sick or diseased, but Molly's wide eyes and slight pout was enough for him to reluctantly hand the puppy over to her. Molly squealed in delight as she wrapped the puppy in her arms, holding it to her chest. "You are so cute!" she cooed allowing the puppy's eager tongue to caress her cheeks. "We should name him."
"No, we're not naming him because we're not keeping him," Mohinder said wearily.
It was then that he noticed the small white envelope hidden underneath the red satin bow on the side of the box. He frowned, tugging the envelope free. His name was written on it, confirming Molly's suggestion that the dog had been meant for them. Mohinder felt his frown deepened at the unfamiliar handwriting and the note hidden inside the envelope:
"In the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money can not buy... to wit - the wag of a dog's tail."
He turned the small piece of paper over and over in his hand, hoping to discover some secret meaning to the message, but there was nothing else written. "I guess I'd better call Matt," he sighed.
-+-+-+-
"You sure you didn't see anybody?" Matt asked, reading over the note for a second time.
"No one," Mohinder said, watching as the puppy eagerly devoured the dog food in the bowl Matt had bought. The pup ate with such zest that the bowl began to slide across the kitchen tiles, moving this way and that and forcing the dog to chase after it in search of another bite. "There was just a knock and that was it."
Matt sighed, placing the note back down on the dinner table and looking at his now empty plate thoughtfully. "That's just really strange. I mean, I've heard of people giving away dogs before -- like selling them on the streets or passing them off to their friends -- I've even heard of people just dumping puppies on strangers, but this was a gift. A really weird gift."
"This isn't a 'gift,' it's a burden," Mohinder whispered, leaning in close so that only Matt could hear him. Molly had finished her dinner and left the table, going back to the living room to finish her homework in hopes that as soon as she was done she could continue to play with the puppy. "Dogs are expensive animals, Matt. He'll need food, a bed, shots, regular visits to the vet..." He sighed, cutting himself off before he got carried away. "We can't keep this dog."
"I know it'll be a hassle," Matt whispered back, "but Molly's really attached to it. Maybe we can work something out."
"Work something out? Matt, I don't think the Super will approve of us getting a puppy, and even if he does, he'll probably raise our rent to compensate!"
"Come on Mohinder. We're not exactly living on welfare here. We can afford to pay a little extra a month."
"What about training? That dog is obviously not housebroken."
"We'll train it."
Mohinder scoffed, rolling his eyes at his roommate's remark. "Yes, and in this instance 'we' means 'me.'"
"Don't pull that 'put upon wife' act with me," Matt warned sarcastically. "'We' means 'we.' Everyone will do their best to take care of the puppy."
"Every time you say 'everyone' is going to take care of something the burden always ends up falling on me," Mohinder said pointedly. "You promised that 'everyone' would help keep the house clean, but who does most of the cleaning around here? You said 'everyone' would take turns to clear the table after dinner, but if I don't remove the plates they sit there all night. You said that 'everyone' will take turns doing the laundry and since we've lived together 'everyone' has done so a grand total of one time!"
"Okay, fine, there have been screw ups in the past," Matt relented, "but I really think we should try to do this. The dog makes Molly happy and this could be a really good chance to teach her about responsibility."
Mohinder sighed, rubbing at his face wearily. The dog did seem to make Molly happy and he would feel like a bit of a monster taking it away from her, but the fact still remained that taking care of this puppy would be no easy task by any stretch of the imagination and that alone was enough to give him pause.
"I finished my homework," Molly announced, handing her papers over to Mohinder. "Can I play with Socks now?"
"'Socks'?" Mohinder repeated.
"Yeah, that's the dog's name," she said proudly. "I just gave it to him."
"Why 'Socks'?" Matt asked.
"Because of the white fur on his feet," she explained, pointing towards the puppy that was now excitedly lapping at his water dish. Mohinder cringed that the sight. They would have to lay down plenty of newspaper tonight. "It looks like he's wearing socks."
"I would have called him 'Boots'," Matt mused. "Or 'Bow' like the one around his neck."
"We're not naming the dog," Mohinder hissed pointedly.
"Oh come on Mohinder, it's just a name," Matt reasoned. "Something to call him besides 'the dog' or 'the puppy' until we figured out what to do."
Molly picked up Socks, cradling him in her arms like a baby. Matt reached over and scratched the puppy just behind one of his floppy ears causing Socks to yawn cutely. Mohinder knew right then that they would be keeping the dog no matter what he had to say.
-+-+-+-
They filled the cardboard box that Socks had been found in with old towels, lined the kitchen floor with newspapers, and locked the dog in using a gate that Matt had picked up at the grocery store along with dog bowls, cans of puppy food, and a leash. Yet somehow Mohinder still woke up at three in the morning to the sounds of tiny paws scratching at his door and a sad, high pitched whimper.
He groaned, throwing a pillow over his head, and hoping that Matt would do something to take care of the situation. Yet despite the fact that Matt was fast asleep on the pull out couch, just a few feet away from Mohinder's door, the man was either too deep asleep to hear anything or chose to ignore the puppy's pathetic cries.
"Fine," Mohinder huffed, tossing his sheets aside and sending his pillow tumbling to the floor. "Fine! I'll get it."
He didn't even bother to find his slippers as he padded across the floor and yanked the door open only to find Socks sitting up straight, his tail wagging vigorously and a slight whimper escaping him. Mohinder would be lying if he said he was unmoved by the sight, but it was late and he was tired and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a needy puppy.
"Go back to bed, Socks," he ordered, whispering is commands so as not to disturb Matt or Molly. "Kitchen! Go! Shoo!"
The pup cocked his head in confusion, considering the man's tone and command, before giving an excited yip and scurrying past Mohinder's legs and into the bedroom. Mohinder sputtered indignantly as he scanned the darkened room for the black puppy.
"Socks!" he called wearily. He sighed, closing his door and flicking a switch, flooding the room with light. He spotted Socks in the corner of the room, sniffing at his fallen pillow with clear intention of claiming it as his own. "Oh no you don't!" Mohinder chided, picking up the puppy and carrying it out of the room. "Your bed is in the kitchen and that's where you're going to sleep."
Socks whined in protest, but only continued to lick and sniff at every inch of Mohinder's exposed skin.
"You're not talking your way out of this," Mohinder whispered, placing the dog back in the little box that now served as his bed. "Now be a good dog and go to sleep."
Undaunted, Socks was only in his bed for a minute before scampering out and running across the apartment. Somehow Mohinder knew right away that the dog had gone to hide in his bedroom and frankly he was far too tired to continue to fight with a stubborn puppy. He groaned in frustration as he grabbed the box and carried it back to his bedroom only to find that his laundry bin had been tipped over and two of his favorite, expensive scarves had been dragged out and were currently being used as a colorful dog bed.
The puppy breathed peacefully in his sleep, curling up tighter around the soft fabric of the cotton scarves.
Mohinder sighed, bending down to scratch the dog's curly head behind his ear. "You have very good taste," he whispered jokingly. "Goodnight."
-+-+-+-
"My goodness you need a hair cut already," Mohinder commented, fingering the dog's wavy black fur. "You are such an expensive dog."
Socks merely panted pleasantly in response, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in satisfaction as Mohinder continued to brush away the knots in the dog's thick coat. At ten weeks old, Socks had grown in size and weight as well as having developed a nasty habit of chewing nearly everything that came near his jaw. Other than that, Mohinder had to admit that the dog was not nearly as problematic as he had expected him to be.
When the pup had first shown up at his door, Mohinder had been certain that he'd be stuck scrubbing the floor after every single accident the dog happened to have, but Socks was a quick learner and took to being potty trained without much of a fuss. What's more despite the puppy's long coat he didn't really shed, which meant that the Indian didn't have to constantly worry about sweeping up dog hair. Socks didn't even bark very often, so they weren't kept up all hours of the night with the sounds of insistent howling.
Grooming was still a pain, but Socks was such a sweet, well behaved dog that Mohinder didn't really mind having to constantly comb out the animal's thick fur.
"There, all done," Mohinder announced, patting the puppy's side to both emphasize his point and reward the dog for his cooperative behavior. "Now you can go play."
Socks took a moment to shake himself vigorously before scampering off. He returned seconds later carrying a bright orange rubber ball in his mouth. The puppy dropped the ball in Mohinder's lap, before bowing playfully and wagging his tail in anticipation.
"So I have to groom you and play with you?" Mohinder teased, not that he could ever resist Socks and his requests. "Fine, one throw."
He gave the ball a quick toss, careful not to hit anything important or breakable. Socks took off like a shot, slipping and sliding along to floor as he chased after his prize. The dog was about to return the ball to him in the hopes of another throw, but he stopped midway, dropped the ball onto the floor and let out a loud howl.
Mohinder frowned, not at all surprised to hear a knock at the door seconds later. Socks mainly barked whenever someone came near the apartment, and from the time Mohinder knew that it couldn't be Molly or Matt. "Go get the door, Socks," Mohinder grumbled as he stood up, brushing away stray bits of hair off his pants. "And tell whoever it is to go away."
Socks went scampering towards the front door just as it swung open. Mohinder wasn't at all surprised when Sylar walked into the apartment -- it had been far too long since the serial killer had last "dropped by" -- but what did surprise him was the way Socks wagged his tail and eagerly sniffed at Sylar instead of barking and growling suspiciously as he usually did with strangers.
"What are you doing here?" Mohinder asked just as Sylar bent down to pick up the puppy.
Sylar smiled, running his large white hand over the dog's curly black head. "Just dropping by to check on our dog," he said as Socks squirmed in his arms, trying his hardest to lick at the man's face.
"'Our' dog?" Mohinder repeated finally realizing what he should have known all along. "You're the one who left him out in the hall that day."
"Of course," Sylar shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a treat. Socks devoured it the moment the dog biscuit was an inch away from his nose. "Who else would be leaving presents at your doorstep?" Sylar paused, considering his words carefully. "Seriously, there isn't anyone else sending you gifts, is there? Because that's the sort of thing you have to tell me."
Mohinder sighed as he strode over to Sylar side and pried the dog out of his grasp. "Alright, so you're the one who gave me this dog," he began, shifting the conversation back on course. "Why?"
"I always wanted a dog," Sylar said simply as he scratched just behind the dog's floppy ear. "And I figured that a Portuguese Water dog would be a perfect fit. They don't shed so they're hypoallergenic, they're smart dogs and easy to train, they're independent so you can leave them alone, and they're even tempered so they'd be good with children."
"You researched this?" he gaped, genuinely surprised by how much thought Sylar had put into picking out this dog. "How did you even get him?"
"The usual way."
"Oh my God! You killed his owners!"
"What? No!" Sylar sputtered, annoyed at the accusation. "I went to a breeder! Geez." Sylar's indignant scowl would have been a bit more intimidating if the serial killer did not pick that exact moment to reach into his jacket and pull out a small stripped blue scarf to wrap around the dog's neck. "So what do you think of him?" he asked, fastening the scarf with some difficulty as Socks struggled to either sniff at the fabric or chew on the edges. "Does Curly here meet your standards?"
"His name is 'Socks,'" Mohinder corrected.
"That's a stupid name," Sylar snorted.
Mohinder sighed, adjusting the puppy in his arms, only to have Socks twist around and lick at his cheek. "This was all, as usual, really creepy," Mohinder commented, before leaning forward to give Sylar a quick peck on the cheek. "But I love him and also think it was a sweet gesture."
Sylar smiled, his cheeks turning a faint hint of pink. "I guess I made the right choice then."
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: G
Summary: For the schmoop_bingo challenge. WILD CARD: Pets (Word Count: 3,046)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Humor, Fluff
Author's Notes: I wrote this not intending it to be such a homage to a certain Disney movie, but somehow it just ended up that way. Brownie points if you can figure out which movie that is. (HINT: Just look at the title :P)
It was late in the afternoon when it happened. Mohinder had just gotten home from work less than an hour ago and despite the fact that he was showered and changed, the stress of the day was still clinging to him. Molly was in the living room finishing up her homework, Matt would be getting off of work soon, and tonight was Mohinder's turn to cook dinner. He was busy pulling out the necessary pots and pans from the kitchen cabinet -- the oven having barely begun its preheating process -- when there came a knock at the door.
"I'll get it!" Molly offered automatically, eager to get away from doing anymore school work.
"No, I'll get it," Mohinder said, seeing right through the girl's motives. "You just focus on your math homework."
Molly gave a soft groan, reluctantly sitting back down to focus on the worksheets and notebooks spread out in front of her, as Mohinder headed towards the door.
However, when he looked through the peep hole he saw that the hallway was now completely empty. He hummed softly as he opened the door, reasoning that it must have been someone dropping off a flyer or an ad at the doorstep. As soon as the door was opened, his ears were greeted by the sound of high pitched whining.
Mohinder's eyes nearly tripled when he looked down and found a pair of wide brown eyes staring up at him. At his feet sat a large white box wrapped with a big red bow and a puppy sitting inside with a matching ribbon tied around its neck. The puppy had a thick coat of wavy black fur and floppy ears. Its long thin tail was curved in a half circle and its front paws were encased with white hair. It whine pathetically before standing up, resting its front paws against the edge of the box and begged with its wide eyes to be picked up.
"Oh my God," Mohinder breathed, crouching down to get a better look at the dog. "Where did you come from?"
The pup's only response was a quick yip as Mohinder picked it up and inspected it carefully. The dog -- a male -- looked fairly healthy to his untrained eyes. Its fur was soft and glossy and it didn't seem to be hurt or underfed in anyway. Of course, once the dog was in his hand, he instantly began to lick and sniff every single inch of Mohinder's skin.
"It's a puppy!"
Mohinder wasn't at all surprised to turn around and find Molly standing next to him, staring at the dog as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. She cooed and gushed, running her eager hand over the puppy's soft fur. In turn, the pup wagged its tail and eagerly licked at her fingers.
"She's so cute!" Molly squealed. "Can we keep her Mohinder? Please?"
"It's a 'he' actually," Mohinder corrected, reluctant to hand the puppy over to Molly and risk her getting attached to it. There was no possible way they could keep this dog. Their lives were busy enough as it was and adding a young an untrained animal to the mix would only cause disaster. "And I'm afraid we can't keep him. What if he belongs to someone?"
"But he's a present, see?" Molly said pointing at the red ribbon tied around the dog's neck. "Whoever left him here wanted us to have him."
"He could have been meant for someone else," he reasoned. "All these doors look alike after all."
"Can I at least hold him?" Molly pleaded. He was about to say no, because the dog could be sick or diseased, but Molly's wide eyes and slight pout was enough for him to reluctantly hand the puppy over to her. Molly squealed in delight as she wrapped the puppy in her arms, holding it to her chest. "You are so cute!" she cooed allowing the puppy's eager tongue to caress her cheeks. "We should name him."
"No, we're not naming him because we're not keeping him," Mohinder said wearily.
It was then that he noticed the small white envelope hidden underneath the red satin bow on the side of the box. He frowned, tugging the envelope free. His name was written on it, confirming Molly's suggestion that the dog had been meant for them. Mohinder felt his frown deepened at the unfamiliar handwriting and the note hidden inside the envelope:
"In the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money can not buy... to wit - the wag of a dog's tail."
He turned the small piece of paper over and over in his hand, hoping to discover some secret meaning to the message, but there was nothing else written. "I guess I'd better call Matt," he sighed.
-+-+-+-
"You sure you didn't see anybody?" Matt asked, reading over the note for a second time.
"No one," Mohinder said, watching as the puppy eagerly devoured the dog food in the bowl Matt had bought. The pup ate with such zest that the bowl began to slide across the kitchen tiles, moving this way and that and forcing the dog to chase after it in search of another bite. "There was just a knock and that was it."
Matt sighed, placing the note back down on the dinner table and looking at his now empty plate thoughtfully. "That's just really strange. I mean, I've heard of people giving away dogs before -- like selling them on the streets or passing them off to their friends -- I've even heard of people just dumping puppies on strangers, but this was a gift. A really weird gift."
"This isn't a 'gift,' it's a burden," Mohinder whispered, leaning in close so that only Matt could hear him. Molly had finished her dinner and left the table, going back to the living room to finish her homework in hopes that as soon as she was done she could continue to play with the puppy. "Dogs are expensive animals, Matt. He'll need food, a bed, shots, regular visits to the vet..." He sighed, cutting himself off before he got carried away. "We can't keep this dog."
"I know it'll be a hassle," Matt whispered back, "but Molly's really attached to it. Maybe we can work something out."
"Work something out? Matt, I don't think the Super will approve of us getting a puppy, and even if he does, he'll probably raise our rent to compensate!"
"Come on Mohinder. We're not exactly living on welfare here. We can afford to pay a little extra a month."
"What about training? That dog is obviously not housebroken."
"We'll train it."
Mohinder scoffed, rolling his eyes at his roommate's remark. "Yes, and in this instance 'we' means 'me.'"
"Don't pull that 'put upon wife' act with me," Matt warned sarcastically. "'We' means 'we.' Everyone will do their best to take care of the puppy."
"Every time you say 'everyone' is going to take care of something the burden always ends up falling on me," Mohinder said pointedly. "You promised that 'everyone' would help keep the house clean, but who does most of the cleaning around here? You said 'everyone' would take turns to clear the table after dinner, but if I don't remove the plates they sit there all night. You said that 'everyone' will take turns doing the laundry and since we've lived together 'everyone' has done so a grand total of one time!"
"Okay, fine, there have been screw ups in the past," Matt relented, "but I really think we should try to do this. The dog makes Molly happy and this could be a really good chance to teach her about responsibility."
Mohinder sighed, rubbing at his face wearily. The dog did seem to make Molly happy and he would feel like a bit of a monster taking it away from her, but the fact still remained that taking care of this puppy would be no easy task by any stretch of the imagination and that alone was enough to give him pause.
"I finished my homework," Molly announced, handing her papers over to Mohinder. "Can I play with Socks now?"
"'Socks'?" Mohinder repeated.
"Yeah, that's the dog's name," she said proudly. "I just gave it to him."
"Why 'Socks'?" Matt asked.
"Because of the white fur on his feet," she explained, pointing towards the puppy that was now excitedly lapping at his water dish. Mohinder cringed that the sight. They would have to lay down plenty of newspaper tonight. "It looks like he's wearing socks."
"I would have called him 'Boots'," Matt mused. "Or 'Bow' like the one around his neck."
"We're not naming the dog," Mohinder hissed pointedly.
"Oh come on Mohinder, it's just a name," Matt reasoned. "Something to call him besides 'the dog' or 'the puppy' until we figured out what to do."
Molly picked up Socks, cradling him in her arms like a baby. Matt reached over and scratched the puppy just behind one of his floppy ears causing Socks to yawn cutely. Mohinder knew right then that they would be keeping the dog no matter what he had to say.
-+-+-+-
They filled the cardboard box that Socks had been found in with old towels, lined the kitchen floor with newspapers, and locked the dog in using a gate that Matt had picked up at the grocery store along with dog bowls, cans of puppy food, and a leash. Yet somehow Mohinder still woke up at three in the morning to the sounds of tiny paws scratching at his door and a sad, high pitched whimper.
He groaned, throwing a pillow over his head, and hoping that Matt would do something to take care of the situation. Yet despite the fact that Matt was fast asleep on the pull out couch, just a few feet away from Mohinder's door, the man was either too deep asleep to hear anything or chose to ignore the puppy's pathetic cries.
"Fine," Mohinder huffed, tossing his sheets aside and sending his pillow tumbling to the floor. "Fine! I'll get it."
He didn't even bother to find his slippers as he padded across the floor and yanked the door open only to find Socks sitting up straight, his tail wagging vigorously and a slight whimper escaping him. Mohinder would be lying if he said he was unmoved by the sight, but it was late and he was tired and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a needy puppy.
"Go back to bed, Socks," he ordered, whispering is commands so as not to disturb Matt or Molly. "Kitchen! Go! Shoo!"
The pup cocked his head in confusion, considering the man's tone and command, before giving an excited yip and scurrying past Mohinder's legs and into the bedroom. Mohinder sputtered indignantly as he scanned the darkened room for the black puppy.
"Socks!" he called wearily. He sighed, closing his door and flicking a switch, flooding the room with light. He spotted Socks in the corner of the room, sniffing at his fallen pillow with clear intention of claiming it as his own. "Oh no you don't!" Mohinder chided, picking up the puppy and carrying it out of the room. "Your bed is in the kitchen and that's where you're going to sleep."
Socks whined in protest, but only continued to lick and sniff at every inch of Mohinder's exposed skin.
"You're not talking your way out of this," Mohinder whispered, placing the dog back in the little box that now served as his bed. "Now be a good dog and go to sleep."
Undaunted, Socks was only in his bed for a minute before scampering out and running across the apartment. Somehow Mohinder knew right away that the dog had gone to hide in his bedroom and frankly he was far too tired to continue to fight with a stubborn puppy. He groaned in frustration as he grabbed the box and carried it back to his bedroom only to find that his laundry bin had been tipped over and two of his favorite, expensive scarves had been dragged out and were currently being used as a colorful dog bed.
The puppy breathed peacefully in his sleep, curling up tighter around the soft fabric of the cotton scarves.
Mohinder sighed, bending down to scratch the dog's curly head behind his ear. "You have very good taste," he whispered jokingly. "Goodnight."
-+-+-+-
"My goodness you need a hair cut already," Mohinder commented, fingering the dog's wavy black fur. "You are such an expensive dog."
Socks merely panted pleasantly in response, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in satisfaction as Mohinder continued to brush away the knots in the dog's thick coat. At ten weeks old, Socks had grown in size and weight as well as having developed a nasty habit of chewing nearly everything that came near his jaw. Other than that, Mohinder had to admit that the dog was not nearly as problematic as he had expected him to be.
When the pup had first shown up at his door, Mohinder had been certain that he'd be stuck scrubbing the floor after every single accident the dog happened to have, but Socks was a quick learner and took to being potty trained without much of a fuss. What's more despite the puppy's long coat he didn't really shed, which meant that the Indian didn't have to constantly worry about sweeping up dog hair. Socks didn't even bark very often, so they weren't kept up all hours of the night with the sounds of insistent howling.
Grooming was still a pain, but Socks was such a sweet, well behaved dog that Mohinder didn't really mind having to constantly comb out the animal's thick fur.
"There, all done," Mohinder announced, patting the puppy's side to both emphasize his point and reward the dog for his cooperative behavior. "Now you can go play."
Socks took a moment to shake himself vigorously before scampering off. He returned seconds later carrying a bright orange rubber ball in his mouth. The puppy dropped the ball in Mohinder's lap, before bowing playfully and wagging his tail in anticipation.
"So I have to groom you and play with you?" Mohinder teased, not that he could ever resist Socks and his requests. "Fine, one throw."
He gave the ball a quick toss, careful not to hit anything important or breakable. Socks took off like a shot, slipping and sliding along to floor as he chased after his prize. The dog was about to return the ball to him in the hopes of another throw, but he stopped midway, dropped the ball onto the floor and let out a loud howl.
Mohinder frowned, not at all surprised to hear a knock at the door seconds later. Socks mainly barked whenever someone came near the apartment, and from the time Mohinder knew that it couldn't be Molly or Matt. "Go get the door, Socks," Mohinder grumbled as he stood up, brushing away stray bits of hair off his pants. "And tell whoever it is to go away."
Socks went scampering towards the front door just as it swung open. Mohinder wasn't at all surprised when Sylar walked into the apartment -- it had been far too long since the serial killer had last "dropped by" -- but what did surprise him was the way Socks wagged his tail and eagerly sniffed at Sylar instead of barking and growling suspiciously as he usually did with strangers.
"What are you doing here?" Mohinder asked just as Sylar bent down to pick up the puppy.
Sylar smiled, running his large white hand over the dog's curly black head. "Just dropping by to check on our dog," he said as Socks squirmed in his arms, trying his hardest to lick at the man's face.
"'Our' dog?" Mohinder repeated finally realizing what he should have known all along. "You're the one who left him out in the hall that day."
"Of course," Sylar shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a treat. Socks devoured it the moment the dog biscuit was an inch away from his nose. "Who else would be leaving presents at your doorstep?" Sylar paused, considering his words carefully. "Seriously, there isn't anyone else sending you gifts, is there? Because that's the sort of thing you have to tell me."
Mohinder sighed as he strode over to Sylar side and pried the dog out of his grasp. "Alright, so you're the one who gave me this dog," he began, shifting the conversation back on course. "Why?"
"I always wanted a dog," Sylar said simply as he scratched just behind the dog's floppy ear. "And I figured that a Portuguese Water dog would be a perfect fit. They don't shed so they're hypoallergenic, they're smart dogs and easy to train, they're independent so you can leave them alone, and they're even tempered so they'd be good with children."
"You researched this?" he gaped, genuinely surprised by how much thought Sylar had put into picking out this dog. "How did you even get him?"
"The usual way."
"Oh my God! You killed his owners!"
"What? No!" Sylar sputtered, annoyed at the accusation. "I went to a breeder! Geez." Sylar's indignant scowl would have been a bit more intimidating if the serial killer did not pick that exact moment to reach into his jacket and pull out a small stripped blue scarf to wrap around the dog's neck. "So what do you think of him?" he asked, fastening the scarf with some difficulty as Socks struggled to either sniff at the fabric or chew on the edges. "Does Curly here meet your standards?"
"His name is 'Socks,'" Mohinder corrected.
"That's a stupid name," Sylar snorted.
Mohinder sighed, adjusting the puppy in his arms, only to have Socks twist around and lick at his cheek. "This was all, as usual, really creepy," Mohinder commented, before leaning forward to give Sylar a quick peck on the cheek. "But I love him and also think it was a sweet gesture."
Sylar smiled, his cheeks turning a faint hint of pink. "I guess I made the right choice then."