TakiTsuba Fic: Pet Master (Part 2/3)
Characters: Tackey and Tsubasa
Genre: AU and fluff
Rating: PG
Summary: Takki discovers that sometimes the light at the end of a tunnel is the headlamp of an oncoming train.
Part 1/3
Pet Master (Part 2/3)
It was a spectacular ruin to an eagerly anticipated event. What Takki had hoped would be a convincing decoy from his current state of singlehood turned out to be either a case of mixed-up order or divine prank. Judging by his luck, he was inclined to believe that higher powers were against him, which would explain why instead of a comely girl-next-door, it was a man in his shower.
'Blow me?' Tsubasa said, as he finally stepped into the bedroom, in nothing more than a towel around his ladylike waist.
'I mean blow my hair,' he corrected, throwing a flustered Takki a narrowed glare. 'I'm a pet not a prostitute.'
As if to drive home the message, Tsubasa was impeccable in his role as a human Dachshund. He insisted on being waited hand and foot and refused to be neglected. Takki had imagined that if a proper pet dog were to grow hands instead of paws, it would be dutifully making him coffee and giving him shoulder massages as he toiled away on his PC. But since this unconventional pet had other ideas, he was the one dishing out the coffee and massages instead. Apparently, Tsubasa had fallen asleep in the bath, resulting in a very sore neck. He, of course, demanded immediate remedy, prompting Takki to attend to him like a Greek god being pampered: Zeus Tsubasa lying bare-chested on the sofa with beverages on a side table, one arm propping up a lazy face and the other feeding grapes, while Mere-Mortal Takki diligently massaged him with olive oil. Just add toga.
One would think that Takki would have it easier if he had only hired Tsubasa out of goodwill, faked a glowing testimonial, and abandoned him on the streets. But no. Tsubasa had too much pride in his work to allow a handout. And sadly, ignoring him was not an option either, going by the carelessly strewn about porn magazines. Takki had spent a good weekend carefully concealing and alphabetically categorising them. Despite his pains, the dog had no trouble digging them out and having a go at them. By then, it was already bored and scratching at the furniture.
Thinking that a change of environment and societal pressure might encourage it to behave better, Takki suggested lunch outside. For once, Tsubasa happily complied.
A girl would’ve warranted a nice little family restaurant. If Takki liked her, a fancier restaurant would be necessary. But since it was Tsubasa, Takki chose his usual ramen hangout tucked in a hole just round the corner.
'Wow, you got a free rutan (egg)!' Tsubasa remarked, suitably impressed.
'Yup,' Takki beamed with pride. 'I always get one!'
Takki was thrilled to observe again that that was a privilege not extended to others. Then again, Tsubasa didn't need more rutans. He had already ordered a separate serving of it, plus 12 gyozas (pan-fried dumplings) and an upsized chahan (fried rice). Takki didn't blink at the order. He had gradually come to accept that his place in life was to keep his pet happy and well-fed. Still, he couldn't help but be a little peeved when Tsubasa having finished his serving of rutans, unceremoniously whisked his away with a 'You're not eating that?'
'Some people happen to save the best for last,' Takki said as he watched Tsubasa wolf down the only evidence that he was special.
'That's just silly,' Tsubasa replied absentmindedly, skimming through the menu again.
Truth be told, Takki felt rather silly too. He was actually enjoying this. Previously, being all hung up with saving up for his so-called girlfriends, except for the odd drinking sessions with his colleagues, he hadn't dared to hang out with friends. Dates with girls were pricey affairs, involving fine dining carefully selected. It was only good enough if the waiters wore that look of thinly veiled contempt, and the decor looked better than the food tasted.
After lunch, Tsubasa, declaring that pets need exercise and entertainment, insisted that they stroll to a nearby cinema.
'What are you doing?' Takki asked, watching Tsubasa take his hand and hook it to the seam of his jacket.
'Hold onto my jacket ya. It'll be like a leash. You wouldn't want me getting lost or attacking some smaller dogs, would you?'
Takki broke into a broad smile the way only he could, where his pretty features temporarily contorted into something so ugly it was endearing.
'That's just silly,' he said, echoing the exact words he had heard earlier.
'Would you rather hold my hand?'
The answer was a shy but firm no. And so the duo trotted off to the cinema, the dog leading the way and the master a step or two behind, looking totally whipped.
Unlike some dogs that fear cars or their own shadows, Dachshund Tsubasa had no such trouble. His only nemesis, Takki discovered, much to his amusement, was that of the feline kind. The only time, Tsubasa didn't lead was when his radar detected a kitten lounging in the sun on the opposite street. He then grabbed onto Takki for dear life and attempted to hide his larger frame behind his. So incredulous was seeing Tsubasa fear a creature a fraction of his size that Takki almost bowled over with hilarity, mimicking a dog doing a drop and roll.
Just when he thought the fun was over, the movie at the cinema picked up the pace nicely. Sick of the usual high-brow foreign art films he pretended to enjoy, he gladly let Tsubasa choose a campy, over-the-top action movie. Although the actors ran so much they needn't act, Takki genuinely enjoyed it. He could laugh out loud, slap his thigh in vulgar ojisan manner and even spill popcorn; no more pretending to understand non-dubbed foreign films, when the only English he knew were the words, 'I don’t cry.'
By dinner, Takki was positively awashed with what some might describe as euphoria. He couldn't remember the last time he had such economical fun. Perhaps it was the warm glow of the cosy yakiniku (grilled beef) restaurant, or the several beers that he had, whatever it was, Tsubasa was starting to look more fetching than all his previous gold-diggers combined.
Takki woke up next morning at 11, with a hangover the size of Tokyo. Last night was a blur. In fact, everything was a blur. He did however recall that he might have at some point stripped naked in some park and shouted, 'What's wrong with being naked!' But seeing that he was safely in bed and not in some police hold-up, under some yakuza boss, all was well.
That was until he heard that dreaded greeting, from under the covers.
'Good morning, Master-sama.'
Part 3/3.
Genre: AU and fluff
Rating: PG
Summary: Takki discovers that sometimes the light at the end of a tunnel is the headlamp of an oncoming train.
Part 1/3
Pet Master (Part 2/3)
It was a spectacular ruin to an eagerly anticipated event. What Takki had hoped would be a convincing decoy from his current state of singlehood turned out to be either a case of mixed-up order or divine prank. Judging by his luck, he was inclined to believe that higher powers were against him, which would explain why instead of a comely girl-next-door, it was a man in his shower.
'Blow me?' Tsubasa said, as he finally stepped into the bedroom, in nothing more than a towel around his ladylike waist.
'I mean blow my hair,' he corrected, throwing a flustered Takki a narrowed glare. 'I'm a pet not a prostitute.'
As if to drive home the message, Tsubasa was impeccable in his role as a human Dachshund. He insisted on being waited hand and foot and refused to be neglected. Takki had imagined that if a proper pet dog were to grow hands instead of paws, it would be dutifully making him coffee and giving him shoulder massages as he toiled away on his PC. But since this unconventional pet had other ideas, he was the one dishing out the coffee and massages instead. Apparently, Tsubasa had fallen asleep in the bath, resulting in a very sore neck. He, of course, demanded immediate remedy, prompting Takki to attend to him like a Greek god being pampered: Zeus Tsubasa lying bare-chested on the sofa with beverages on a side table, one arm propping up a lazy face and the other feeding grapes, while Mere-Mortal Takki diligently massaged him with olive oil. Just add toga.
One would think that Takki would have it easier if he had only hired Tsubasa out of goodwill, faked a glowing testimonial, and abandoned him on the streets. But no. Tsubasa had too much pride in his work to allow a handout. And sadly, ignoring him was not an option either, going by the carelessly strewn about porn magazines. Takki had spent a good weekend carefully concealing and alphabetically categorising them. Despite his pains, the dog had no trouble digging them out and having a go at them. By then, it was already bored and scratching at the furniture.
Thinking that a change of environment and societal pressure might encourage it to behave better, Takki suggested lunch outside. For once, Tsubasa happily complied.
A girl would’ve warranted a nice little family restaurant. If Takki liked her, a fancier restaurant would be necessary. But since it was Tsubasa, Takki chose his usual ramen hangout tucked in a hole just round the corner.
'Wow, you got a free rutan (egg)!' Tsubasa remarked, suitably impressed.
'Yup,' Takki beamed with pride. 'I always get one!'
Takki was thrilled to observe again that that was a privilege not extended to others. Then again, Tsubasa didn't need more rutans. He had already ordered a separate serving of it, plus 12 gyozas (pan-fried dumplings) and an upsized chahan (fried rice). Takki didn't blink at the order. He had gradually come to accept that his place in life was to keep his pet happy and well-fed. Still, he couldn't help but be a little peeved when Tsubasa having finished his serving of rutans, unceremoniously whisked his away with a 'You're not eating that?'
'Some people happen to save the best for last,' Takki said as he watched Tsubasa wolf down the only evidence that he was special.
'That's just silly,' Tsubasa replied absentmindedly, skimming through the menu again.
Truth be told, Takki felt rather silly too. He was actually enjoying this. Previously, being all hung up with saving up for his so-called girlfriends, except for the odd drinking sessions with his colleagues, he hadn't dared to hang out with friends. Dates with girls were pricey affairs, involving fine dining carefully selected. It was only good enough if the waiters wore that look of thinly veiled contempt, and the decor looked better than the food tasted.
After lunch, Tsubasa, declaring that pets need exercise and entertainment, insisted that they stroll to a nearby cinema.
'What are you doing?' Takki asked, watching Tsubasa take his hand and hook it to the seam of his jacket.
'Hold onto my jacket ya. It'll be like a leash. You wouldn't want me getting lost or attacking some smaller dogs, would you?'
Takki broke into a broad smile the way only he could, where his pretty features temporarily contorted into something so ugly it was endearing.
'That's just silly,' he said, echoing the exact words he had heard earlier.
'Would you rather hold my hand?'
The answer was a shy but firm no. And so the duo trotted off to the cinema, the dog leading the way and the master a step or two behind, looking totally whipped.
Unlike some dogs that fear cars or their own shadows, Dachshund Tsubasa had no such trouble. His only nemesis, Takki discovered, much to his amusement, was that of the feline kind. The only time, Tsubasa didn't lead was when his radar detected a kitten lounging in the sun on the opposite street. He then grabbed onto Takki for dear life and attempted to hide his larger frame behind his. So incredulous was seeing Tsubasa fear a creature a fraction of his size that Takki almost bowled over with hilarity, mimicking a dog doing a drop and roll.
Just when he thought the fun was over, the movie at the cinema picked up the pace nicely. Sick of the usual high-brow foreign art films he pretended to enjoy, he gladly let Tsubasa choose a campy, over-the-top action movie. Although the actors ran so much they needn't act, Takki genuinely enjoyed it. He could laugh out loud, slap his thigh in vulgar ojisan manner and even spill popcorn; no more pretending to understand non-dubbed foreign films, when the only English he knew were the words, 'I don’t cry.'
By dinner, Takki was positively awashed with what some might describe as euphoria. He couldn't remember the last time he had such economical fun. Perhaps it was the warm glow of the cosy yakiniku (grilled beef) restaurant, or the several beers that he had, whatever it was, Tsubasa was starting to look more fetching than all his previous gold-diggers combined.
Takki woke up next morning at 11, with a hangover the size of Tokyo. Last night was a blur. In fact, everything was a blur. He did however recall that he might have at some point stripped naked in some park and shouted, 'What's wrong with being naked!' But seeing that he was safely in bed and not in some police hold-up, under some yakuza boss, all was well.
That was until he heard that dreaded greeting, from under the covers.
'Good morning, Master-sama.'
Part 3/3.