wanted to buy fish, too, but the dude at the pet store said he
needed to take the bowl home, fill it, and let the water cure for a few days before it would be safe
for the fish.
"Um..." And then Cal did that other thing-- the one where he quirked an eyebrow up really high without changing the shape of the rest of his face. That was no small feat. Ian had tried to imitate
Go Fish - 5
it, but his lips refused to be left out. They wanted to stay center stage in all his expressions, the
way Cal's hair probably would if it had the same muscle tone as the rest of his body. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why get a fish bowl but no fish?"
"I like the water. When the sun shines through, it makes little rainbows on the wall..." Now he was the one making the what-the-fuck face. He could not believe he'd just said that. He cleared
his throat again, because, what the hell, that couldn't possibly seem dodgier than the blush
already burning up his cheeks. "And, um, I get chapped in the winter. Thought it would be like a
humidifier." Oh, yeah, good save. Dermal hydration issues were way manlier than little
rainbows.
"Sure, sure, I guess." Cal finished with the dog dishes, now with both eyebrows at the tippy-top of his forehead.
"Yeah..." Ian hurriedly filled his bowl without taking the time to rinse out the store dust, and lifted it out of the sink with a hair too much oomph. Half the water sloshed back out into the
sink. He just shrugged and took it back to his room.
***
Next time they had a day off, Ian rolled over in his bed (the one Cal made him buy because Cal
had an obsession with making Ian spend money on himself) and pulled the sheets up a little
higher under his chin, intent on burrowing in for as long as the house stood. He cracked his eyes
open just enough to get an idea how late it was, smacking his lips together, because, yeah, they
didn't like to be left out (and, for what it was worth, they really were less chapped now that he
had a fish bowl). He blinked once to clear away the film over his eyes, blinked again, because he
couldn't figure out what was different, and then, "Yeesh!" He fell off the other side of the bed and hit his head on the wall.
Something had totally moved over there.
He was still rubbing his hand over the lump on his head and shaking the last trailing vestiges of
sleep from his limbs when Cal and both dogs came barreling through his doorway. The dogs
took his prone-ation as an invitation to play and pounced. Before he could sit up, he had paws in
his stomach and tongues up his nose, a tail tap-tapping a little too close to the family jewels.
Grant and Sherman were no lap dogs by any means, but someone had forgotten to tell them that.
Then again, with those long legs and a lap the size of Cal's, it was probably never an issue.
Great, now Ian was thinking about Cal's lap. And his legs. Long muscular legs, not at all
neglected like a lot of gym rats tended to do. Cal was definitely proportionate, on top, on bottom,
and, well, Ian had to assume, in between.
"Ian?" Cal was there, somewhere on the other side of the furry flailing appendages and cloud of Go Fish - 6
doggy breath. "Dude, hey, you okay? C'mon you guys. Off. Let the man up."
Ian had to hand it to Cal. His dogs were actually pretty well-mannered, if a bit on the affectionate
side, and they backed right off when he told them to. Of course, not one but two paws managed
to land where the tail was only threatening to go, and Ian was curled into a pathetic little ball in
the corner by the time Cal leaned over him. He reached behind himself and pulled the covers
down, wondering if he could just go back to sleep and wake up again like this was nothing more
than a bad dream.
"Ian?"
Peeking out from beneath the covers, Ian noticed that Cal had been running, which would
explain why the dogs' paws were all wet, and why, when he leaned over Ian, all his bangs
dangled off his forehead, swinging toward Ian almost unnaturally in
needed to take the bowl home, fill it, and let the water cure for a few days before it would be safe
for the fish.
"Um..." And then Cal did that other thing-- the one where he quirked an eyebrow up really high without changing the shape of the rest of his face. That was no small feat. Ian had tried to imitate
Go Fish - 5
it, but his lips refused to be left out. They wanted to stay center stage in all his expressions, the
way Cal's hair probably would if it had the same muscle tone as the rest of his body. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why get a fish bowl but no fish?"
"I like the water. When the sun shines through, it makes little rainbows on the wall..." Now he was the one making the what-the-fuck face. He could not believe he'd just said that. He cleared
his throat again, because, what the hell, that couldn't possibly seem dodgier than the blush
already burning up his cheeks. "And, um, I get chapped in the winter. Thought it would be like a
humidifier." Oh, yeah, good save. Dermal hydration issues were way manlier than little
rainbows.
"Sure, sure, I guess." Cal finished with the dog dishes, now with both eyebrows at the tippy-top of his forehead.
"Yeah..." Ian hurriedly filled his bowl without taking the time to rinse out the store dust, and lifted it out of the sink with a hair too much oomph. Half the water sloshed back out into the
sink. He just shrugged and took it back to his room.
***
Next time they had a day off, Ian rolled over in his bed (the one Cal made him buy because Cal
had an obsession with making Ian spend money on himself) and pulled the sheets up a little
higher under his chin, intent on burrowing in for as long as the house stood. He cracked his eyes
open just enough to get an idea how late it was, smacking his lips together, because, yeah, they
didn't like to be left out (and, for what it was worth, they really were less chapped now that he
had a fish bowl). He blinked once to clear away the film over his eyes, blinked again, because he
couldn't figure out what was different, and then, "Yeesh!" He fell off the other side of the bed and hit his head on the wall.
Something had totally moved over there.
He was still rubbing his hand over the lump on his head and shaking the last trailing vestiges of
sleep from his limbs when Cal and both dogs came barreling through his doorway. The dogs
took his prone-ation as an invitation to play and pounced. Before he could sit up, he had paws in
his stomach and tongues up his nose, a tail tap-tapping a little too close to the family jewels.
Grant and Sherman were no lap dogs by any means, but someone had forgotten to tell them that.
Then again, with those long legs and a lap the size of Cal's, it was probably never an issue.
Great, now Ian was thinking about Cal's lap. And his legs. Long muscular legs, not at all
neglected like a lot of gym rats tended to do. Cal was definitely proportionate, on top, on bottom,
and, well, Ian had to assume, in between.
"Ian?" Cal was there, somewhere on the other side of the furry flailing appendages and cloud of Go Fish - 6
doggy breath. "Dude, hey, you okay? C'mon you guys. Off. Let the man up."
Ian had to hand it to Cal. His dogs were actually pretty well-mannered, if a bit on the affectionate
side, and they backed right off when he told them to. Of course, not one but two paws managed
to land where the tail was only threatening to go, and Ian was curled into a pathetic little ball in
the corner by the time Cal leaned over him. He reached behind himself and pulled the covers
down, wondering if he could just go back to sleep and wake up again like this was nothing more
than a bad dream.
"Ian?"
Peeking out from beneath the covers, Ian noticed that Cal had been running, which would
explain why the dogs' paws were all wet, and why, when he leaned over Ian, all his bangs
dangled off his forehead, swinging toward Ian almost unnaturally in
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