"Play Date" Bo-Bama/Harris Barrowman-Gill doggie fic.
Title: Play Date
Fandom: RPF/Politics-NO SEX, I PROMISE!!!
Characters: John Barrowman, Scott Gill, Harris Barrowman-Gill, Barack Obama, Bo Obama.
Genre: Crack, Puppy-fic
Notes: Because hllangel is feeling poorly and I'm clearly losing my mind.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 350
Summary: Bo gets a visitor from the UK
Scott watched John disconnect his cell phone, staring at it in near-shock. This had to be something really big. It took a lot to leave John this gob-smacked, and Scott could only hope it was good news.
“I’m going to meet him.”
“Him?”
“The President! Barack Obama! Him!”
“Oh, that him,” Scott remarked drily, somewhat amused by John’s excitement over meeting the American President, but also a bit envious. John would be performing at a Kennedy Center Honors tribute to Stephen Sondheim, and they’d already figured out that Scott’s schedule meant he couldn’t go.
But one of the dogs would.
*****
“Hey, Bo! Aren’t you a cutie? This is Harris. He came all the way from London to see you. Can you guys play nice for a while?”
Bo looked up to see if the pack leader was smiling. He was, so Bo gave his happy bark and let the newcomer make the appropriate greetings. When he did his own sniffing, he realized the other dog was older, which confused him because he acted much younger.
While they ran around the lawn, he tried to communicate with some play fighting and Harris immediately rolled on his back and put up his paws. Then he got up and proceeded to walk around the lawn as though waiting to be noticed. Bo knew there were guards around, but they tended to ignore him, except for the ones who liked to sneak him treats.
He gave a low growl and a few barks. Harris came running back, nuzzling for a kiss and then tossing his head, making his ears flap. Bo tried to imitate, although it made him dizzy. He figured out that his ears weren’t long enough to flap, but his hair moved a great deal. He liked the feeling.
The head-tossing and walking were so engrossing that he was caught by surprise when the pack leader called out his name.
“Bo! What on earth are you doing?”
“Oh my god!” shouted the man who had brought Harris all the way from whatever London was. "He’s teaching Bo to be a diva!”
Fandom: RPF/Politics-NO SEX, I PROMISE!!!
Characters: John Barrowman, Scott Gill, Harris Barrowman-Gill, Barack Obama, Bo Obama.
Genre: Crack, Puppy-fic
Notes: Because hllangel is feeling poorly and I'm clearly losing my mind.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 350
Summary: Bo gets a visitor from the UK
Scott watched John disconnect his cell phone, staring at it in near-shock. This had to be something really big. It took a lot to leave John this gob-smacked, and Scott could only hope it was good news.
“I’m going to meet him.”
“Him?”
“The President! Barack Obama! Him!”
“Oh, that him,” Scott remarked drily, somewhat amused by John’s excitement over meeting the American President, but also a bit envious. John would be performing at a Kennedy Center Honors tribute to Stephen Sondheim, and they’d already figured out that Scott’s schedule meant he couldn’t go.
But one of the dogs would.
*****
“Hey, Bo! Aren’t you a cutie? This is Harris. He came all the way from London to see you. Can you guys play nice for a while?”
Bo looked up to see if the pack leader was smiling. He was, so Bo gave his happy bark and let the newcomer make the appropriate greetings. When he did his own sniffing, he realized the other dog was older, which confused him because he acted much younger.
While they ran around the lawn, he tried to communicate with some play fighting and Harris immediately rolled on his back and put up his paws. Then he got up and proceeded to walk around the lawn as though waiting to be noticed. Bo knew there were guards around, but they tended to ignore him, except for the ones who liked to sneak him treats.
He gave a low growl and a few barks. Harris came running back, nuzzling for a kiss and then tossing his head, making his ears flap. Bo tried to imitate, although it made him dizzy. He figured out that his ears weren’t long enough to flap, but his hair moved a great deal. He liked the feeling.
The head-tossing and walking were so engrossing that he was caught by surprise when the pack leader called out his name.
“Bo! What on earth are you doing?”
“Oh my god!” shouted the man who had brought Harris all the way from whatever London was. "He’s teaching Bo to be a diva!”