Fic: Chasing the Rising Sun
Chasing the Rising Sun
Arthur/Eames | G | 1500 words
The point is, Arthur’s life is just fine without this scruffy, annoying puppy following him everywhere.
Puppies, you guys. They are puppies. IN LOVE. No, I'm not sorry. This is for my girls who had a no good very bad day today. ♥ I should also note that the inspiration to make Eames an Australian Shepherd totally comes from innueneko!
(Is it considered a series if you've written puppy!fic in three different fandoms??)
Arthur’s mother taught him that good breeding and manners make all the difference in the world when it comes to success, and Arthur has both in spades. His grandfather won Best of Show at Westminster, for crying out loud. He’s got papers other dogs would kill for.
So he’s not sure why Max, his owner, feels the need to bring him to the same dog park day after day to play with, well...ruffians.
Actually, no, Arthur knows why. It’s part of the drawback of being owned by a web designer in his mid-twenties who likes carrying his new puppy around to get female attention.
“Aww, is he yours?” the fifth girl in as many minutes coos.
“Yes, all mine. His name is Arthur.” Max pets his head and Arthur rolls his eyes. He tries to wiggle free, and finally Max sets him on the ground, saying, “All right, little man, have at it.”
Arthur is most assuredly not a little man, but at least he’s on solid ground again.
But then a familiar blur of gray spots flashes out of the corner of his eye, followed by a sharp, happy, “Darling!”
Arthur sighs.
~
Eames is only six months old, but he’s a bulky puppy, even for an Australian Shepherd. He always seems to be at the dog park at the same time as Arthur, much to Arthur’s chagrin. He’s loud, boisterous, and loves to wrestle (i.e. sneak up behind Arthur and pounce on him like a cat).
Arthur hates him.
“You should play with me,” Eames says with a wide grin, butting his head up under Arthur’s chin, because Arthur loses all rights to his personal space once Eames appears.
“Or I could just stay here,” Arthur replies, stretching out on the grass and pointedly not looking at Eames.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually a dog, or just a cat in canine dress.” Eames nuzzles him again, then yips sharply.
Arthur winces. “Must you?”
“I’m bored, and Yusuf has a vet appointment today. It’s just you and me.”
Arthur likes Yusuf. He’s a calm, well-mannered Corgi who loves his sun patches, and he always has interesting things to say. “I’m not here to entertain you, Eames. Go find some girls to play with you, you know how they fall for your sad-eyed routine.”
Eames huffs. “Humans aren’t the same. They don’t condescend to me like you do.” Then he flops onto the ground beside Arthur. “Does this mean you’re napping? Again?”
Arthur enjoys his naps. “Yes, it does,” he says primly, folding his gray paws beneath his chin.
“So bored,” Eames mutters under his breath, but even so, he snuggles close to Arthur and doesn’t move, even after Arthur drifts off to sleep.
~
Every day Max takes Arthur to the dog park. And every day, Eames bounds over to greet him, tackling Arthur onto his back and licking his chin.
Arthur tells himself he doesn’t need this ridiculous puppy’s constant attention, that he’s perfectly fine on his own, thanks. It’s not like he doesn’t have other friends; sometimes Ariadne shows up when her owner has studying to do, and Arthur loves how tiny she is. There’s Dom and Mal, although most of the time they’re more into trailing after each other instead of interacting with Arthur, but they’re nice enough.
The point is, Arthur’s life is just fine without this scruffy, annoying puppy following him everywhere.
Of course, Arthur’s not rude, and if Eames insists on falling asleep on top of Arthur after a sudden extreme round of tail-chasing, then Arthur will politely let him do so. Even if it was Arthur’s tail that was being chased.
~
“Would you miss me if I was gone, darling?”
Arthur snorts. “Define ‘miss’.” He continues gnawing gently on his favorite rawhide bone as Eames lays on his back beside him, front paws batting idly at a stray butterfly.
“Pining. Aching void. Miserable loneliness.”
“That sounds awfully dramatic. I’m going to go with no.”
Eames makes a half-hearted attempt to snatch the butterfly out of the air with his teeth. He misses spectacularly. “You don’t mean that.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
Eames rolls onto his stomach, looking up at Arthur with wide blue eyes. Arthur doesn’t mean to look, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He also can’t help the funny little twist in his belly.
“I’m leaving on holiday tomorrow,” Eames says. “I’ll be in England for three weeks.”
Arthur stops chewing. “But...why?”
“Abigail hasn’t been home since she bought me. She misses her parents something awful.” Abigail is Eames’ owner, a college professor from London. Arthur knew Eames was from England, that his litter originated from there, he just never thought--he never considered Eames actually going back.
“Are you going to see your family, too?” Arthur asks quietly, nosing his own paws to keep from staring into Eames’ stupid blue eyes.
“Oh, hardly. They’re all scattered about the country by now, I should say. My mother was never one to keep ties, anyway.”
Arthur nods. “Well. Have a safe trip. That’s a long flight, isn’t it?”
“Nine hours or so. I’ll be asleep for most of it.” Eames laughs, but it’s off somehow.
He’s not quite expecting Eames to suddenly curl up tight against him and add in a whisper, “I’ll miss you, too, darling.”
They are in a shady corner of the dog park, a late summer wind blowing contentedly over them as people and various other puppies run past. But Arthur doesn’t hear or notice any of it.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for Eames to hear as he tucks his nose up under Eames’ ear. His chest feels very full, yet oddly empty.
~
The park is quiet for the next three weeks. Arthur doesn’t run or play with the other puppies, just keeps to himself until Max takes pity on him.
“What’s wrong, little man?” he asks, scooping Arthur into his arms. “You look like the saddest pup in the world.”
Arthur ducks his head, wincing.
“Is this because the little Aussie Shepherd isn’t here? Eames, right? Man, you two were buddies, weren’t you?”
No, I can’t stand him, Arthur thinks automatically, but his heart sinks a little.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be back next week, I think. Maybe I’ll talk up Eames’ owner and we’ll make a special play date for you guys.”
Arthur is above play dates, and he most certainly doesn’t need one with Eames. This still doesn’t explain the sudden hopeful jerk in his chest that’s completely beyond his control.
It also doesn’t explain why said useless play date is all he thinks about for the next seven days.
~
Arthur is dreaming. His dreams are always in color, bright and vibrant and happy. The landscapes always look like paint palettes.
He dreams about Eames, and they’re racing through a field of yellow flowers. Eames is laughing, calling out Arthur’s name to chase him, “Catch me, love, come on!”
Arthur runs a fast as his legs with carry him, finally wrestling Eames to the ground as he nips playfully at his ears, his muzzle.
“Knew you’d catch up eventually,” Eames says, breathless, happy. He rolls onto his back and beams up at Arthur, blue eyes sparkling in the light.
Arthur flops down on top of him and fits his head beneath Eames’, listening to the steady thump of Eames’ heart.
“You were right,” Arthur whispers, “I do miss you.”
~
He wakes to a cold, rough tongue poking him in the eye.
“What the--” Arthur splutters and scrambles to his feet, staggering a bit as he forces his sleep-fogged brain to think. He’s in the dog park, it’s a Thursday afternoon, he was napping--
And there, sitting before him, is Eames. He looks a little bigger than he did before he left, his coat fuller, but none of it matters, because he’s here.
“You’re not supposed to be back until Saturday,” Arthur says dumbly.
Eames shrugs, a half smile tugging at his mouth. “Abigail said I was moping too much, so we came home early.”
Arthur’s heart begins to race. “Why were you moping?”
“I don’t know, I was lonely. A certain steel gray pup wasn’t around for me to annoy. Things were deathly dull.” He looks slightly embarrassed to have said the words out loud.
“I dreamed about you,” Arthur says.
One of Eames’ ears perks up. “Oh?”
“We were in a field...there were daisies everywhere...”
“Really, Arthur, isn’t that kind of cliched? Where’s your imagination? Please tell me there was at least a cat involved.”
Arthur doesn’t know what else to say that isn’t horribly soppy and disgusting. So he knocks into Eames with all his body weight and sends them both tumbling onto the grass, until Arthur is curled into Eames’ fluffy chest.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he mumbles into soft fur.
He feels a soft lick over his ear. “I know,” Eames whispers.
Arthur smiles.
Arthur/Eames | G | 1500 words
The point is, Arthur’s life is just fine without this scruffy, annoying puppy following him everywhere.
Puppies, you guys. They are puppies. IN LOVE. No, I'm not sorry. This is for my girls who had a no good very bad day today. ♥ I should also note that the inspiration to make Eames an Australian Shepherd totally comes from innueneko!
(Is it considered a series if you've written puppy!fic in three different fandoms??)
Arthur’s mother taught him that good breeding and manners make all the difference in the world when it comes to success, and Arthur has both in spades. His grandfather won Best of Show at Westminster, for crying out loud. He’s got papers other dogs would kill for.
So he’s not sure why Max, his owner, feels the need to bring him to the same dog park day after day to play with, well...ruffians.
Actually, no, Arthur knows why. It’s part of the drawback of being owned by a web designer in his mid-twenties who likes carrying his new puppy around to get female attention.
“Aww, is he yours?” the fifth girl in as many minutes coos.
“Yes, all mine. His name is Arthur.” Max pets his head and Arthur rolls his eyes. He tries to wiggle free, and finally Max sets him on the ground, saying, “All right, little man, have at it.”
Arthur is most assuredly not a little man, but at least he’s on solid ground again.
But then a familiar blur of gray spots flashes out of the corner of his eye, followed by a sharp, happy, “Darling!”
Arthur sighs.
~
Eames is only six months old, but he’s a bulky puppy, even for an Australian Shepherd. He always seems to be at the dog park at the same time as Arthur, much to Arthur’s chagrin. He’s loud, boisterous, and loves to wrestle (i.e. sneak up behind Arthur and pounce on him like a cat).
Arthur hates him.
“You should play with me,” Eames says with a wide grin, butting his head up under Arthur’s chin, because Arthur loses all rights to his personal space once Eames appears.
“Or I could just stay here,” Arthur replies, stretching out on the grass and pointedly not looking at Eames.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually a dog, or just a cat in canine dress.” Eames nuzzles him again, then yips sharply.
Arthur winces. “Must you?”
“I’m bored, and Yusuf has a vet appointment today. It’s just you and me.”
Arthur likes Yusuf. He’s a calm, well-mannered Corgi who loves his sun patches, and he always has interesting things to say. “I’m not here to entertain you, Eames. Go find some girls to play with you, you know how they fall for your sad-eyed routine.”
Eames huffs. “Humans aren’t the same. They don’t condescend to me like you do.” Then he flops onto the ground beside Arthur. “Does this mean you’re napping? Again?”
Arthur enjoys his naps. “Yes, it does,” he says primly, folding his gray paws beneath his chin.
“So bored,” Eames mutters under his breath, but even so, he snuggles close to Arthur and doesn’t move, even after Arthur drifts off to sleep.
~
Every day Max takes Arthur to the dog park. And every day, Eames bounds over to greet him, tackling Arthur onto his back and licking his chin.
Arthur tells himself he doesn’t need this ridiculous puppy’s constant attention, that he’s perfectly fine on his own, thanks. It’s not like he doesn’t have other friends; sometimes Ariadne shows up when her owner has studying to do, and Arthur loves how tiny she is. There’s Dom and Mal, although most of the time they’re more into trailing after each other instead of interacting with Arthur, but they’re nice enough.
The point is, Arthur’s life is just fine without this scruffy, annoying puppy following him everywhere.
Of course, Arthur’s not rude, and if Eames insists on falling asleep on top of Arthur after a sudden extreme round of tail-chasing, then Arthur will politely let him do so. Even if it was Arthur’s tail that was being chased.
~
“Would you miss me if I was gone, darling?”
Arthur snorts. “Define ‘miss’.” He continues gnawing gently on his favorite rawhide bone as Eames lays on his back beside him, front paws batting idly at a stray butterfly.
“Pining. Aching void. Miserable loneliness.”
“That sounds awfully dramatic. I’m going to go with no.”
Eames makes a half-hearted attempt to snatch the butterfly out of the air with his teeth. He misses spectacularly. “You don’t mean that.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
Eames rolls onto his stomach, looking up at Arthur with wide blue eyes. Arthur doesn’t mean to look, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He also can’t help the funny little twist in his belly.
“I’m leaving on holiday tomorrow,” Eames says. “I’ll be in England for three weeks.”
Arthur stops chewing. “But...why?”
“Abigail hasn’t been home since she bought me. She misses her parents something awful.” Abigail is Eames’ owner, a college professor from London. Arthur knew Eames was from England, that his litter originated from there, he just never thought--he never considered Eames actually going back.
“Are you going to see your family, too?” Arthur asks quietly, nosing his own paws to keep from staring into Eames’ stupid blue eyes.
“Oh, hardly. They’re all scattered about the country by now, I should say. My mother was never one to keep ties, anyway.”
Arthur nods. “Well. Have a safe trip. That’s a long flight, isn’t it?”
“Nine hours or so. I’ll be asleep for most of it.” Eames laughs, but it’s off somehow.
He’s not quite expecting Eames to suddenly curl up tight against him and add in a whisper, “I’ll miss you, too, darling.”
They are in a shady corner of the dog park, a late summer wind blowing contentedly over them as people and various other puppies run past. But Arthur doesn’t hear or notice any of it.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for Eames to hear as he tucks his nose up under Eames’ ear. His chest feels very full, yet oddly empty.
~
The park is quiet for the next three weeks. Arthur doesn’t run or play with the other puppies, just keeps to himself until Max takes pity on him.
“What’s wrong, little man?” he asks, scooping Arthur into his arms. “You look like the saddest pup in the world.”
Arthur ducks his head, wincing.
“Is this because the little Aussie Shepherd isn’t here? Eames, right? Man, you two were buddies, weren’t you?”
No, I can’t stand him, Arthur thinks automatically, but his heart sinks a little.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be back next week, I think. Maybe I’ll talk up Eames’ owner and we’ll make a special play date for you guys.”
Arthur is above play dates, and he most certainly doesn’t need one with Eames. This still doesn’t explain the sudden hopeful jerk in his chest that’s completely beyond his control.
It also doesn’t explain why said useless play date is all he thinks about for the next seven days.
~
Arthur is dreaming. His dreams are always in color, bright and vibrant and happy. The landscapes always look like paint palettes.
He dreams about Eames, and they’re racing through a field of yellow flowers. Eames is laughing, calling out Arthur’s name to chase him, “Catch me, love, come on!”
Arthur runs a fast as his legs with carry him, finally wrestling Eames to the ground as he nips playfully at his ears, his muzzle.
“Knew you’d catch up eventually,” Eames says, breathless, happy. He rolls onto his back and beams up at Arthur, blue eyes sparkling in the light.
Arthur flops down on top of him and fits his head beneath Eames’, listening to the steady thump of Eames’ heart.
“You were right,” Arthur whispers, “I do miss you.”
~
He wakes to a cold, rough tongue poking him in the eye.
“What the--” Arthur splutters and scrambles to his feet, staggering a bit as he forces his sleep-fogged brain to think. He’s in the dog park, it’s a Thursday afternoon, he was napping--
And there, sitting before him, is Eames. He looks a little bigger than he did before he left, his coat fuller, but none of it matters, because he’s here.
“You’re not supposed to be back until Saturday,” Arthur says dumbly.
Eames shrugs, a half smile tugging at his mouth. “Abigail said I was moping too much, so we came home early.”
Arthur’s heart begins to race. “Why were you moping?”
“I don’t know, I was lonely. A certain steel gray pup wasn’t around for me to annoy. Things were deathly dull.” He looks slightly embarrassed to have said the words out loud.
“I dreamed about you,” Arthur says.
One of Eames’ ears perks up. “Oh?”
“We were in a field...there were daisies everywhere...”
“Really, Arthur, isn’t that kind of cliched? Where’s your imagination? Please tell me there was at least a cat involved.”
Arthur doesn’t know what else to say that isn’t horribly soppy and disgusting. So he knocks into Eames with all his body weight and sends them both tumbling onto the grass, until Arthur is curled into Eames’ fluffy chest.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he mumbles into soft fur.
He feels a soft lick over his ear. “I know,” Eames whispers.
Arthur smiles.