Current mood:

amused

Javid!
Very short, very fluffy, very belated Javidness for Alicia. I blame B entirely for afraid-of-harmless-domestic-animals!David.



Puppy Love



“Arf! Arf!”

“Yipyipyipyipyipyip!”

“Woof.”

David ground his teeth and slid lower down on the bench he’d claimed. It was the first really warm day of spring, and he’d decided to take advantage of it by taking a book to the park. He thought back a year to when, as a senior in college, he swore he’d had his fill of reading and would never pick up a book again, but now after months of slogging away at the newspaper without a moment to breathe, he found himself itching for a good read. So he’d grabbed some Hunter S. Thompson and a simply enormous cup of iced coffee, and beaded out to the Park.

The problem was that apparently every dog owner in New York had had a similar idea, and now the whole of Central Park sounded – and smelled – like a kennel on uppers. Every time David managed to focus on his book, he’d get distracted by the shrill yip of a poodle in ludicrous booties, or a lumbering, somber bulldog releasing a solemn bass woof. And some of the dogs were entirely too inquisitive, and David was hard put to perfect the Death Glare For Indulgent Dog Owners Whose Pet Was Now Sniffing His Feet or Book With Far Too Much Interest. It wasn’t that he was scared of dogs, as his sister used to scornfully suggest when they were kids; he just didn’t like them.

He was just getting to the good part of his book when a frantic barking burst out startlingly close to his ear. Before he could react, a shaggy amber torpedo slammed into his side and sent him tumbling to the ground.

David lay there, the breath knocked out of him, too stunned to push the heavy, panting body off of him. He felt the hot, mildly stinky breath gusting against his cheek and waited patiently for sharp teeth to rip out his jugular.

Instead he felt a slobbery tongue lick his cheek and a soft, heavy weight fwump down onto his stomach. He opened a tentative eye. An enormous golden retriever was sitting on his stomach and laughing down at him. Great. He could see the coroner’s report now: “Death by Slobber.”

“Mmmrph,” he said eloquently. “Gerroff.” He gave the dog a week shove. The dog cocked its ears forward, thumped its fanned tail against David’s thigh, and didn’t budge.

“Monte! Hey, Monte!” Footsteps sounded near David’s ear; then, from somewhere above the sea of sandy fur, “Oh, God. I am so sorry.” A hand reached out and grabbed the dog by the scruff and hauled him off of David. “Monte, you ass. I’m sorry, he’d just really friendly. Are you all right?”

David scowled. “Oh, I’m just fine, I’m…”

The owner’s face hove into view, all cheekbones and floppy hair and concerned hazel eyes.

Oh, God.

“…fine,” David repeated, a trifle breathlessly. “I love dogs.”

Monte’s owner grinned. It was rather like sunrise. “Oh, good.” He held out a hand. “I really am sorry, though.”

David took the hand – warm and firm and slightly callused – and let himself be hauled to his feet. “Don’t worry about it.”

The other man didn’t let go of his hand and didn’t stop smiling. “Jack Kelly.”

“David Jacobs.” David caught a glimpse of Monte out of the corner of his eye; the dog was grinning and wagging his tail and looking very self-satisfied indeed. “Nice to meet you.”





Why yes, Monte is named after the Virginian's horse. It's Jack's favorite book. *pets*