Characters: Dee, Ryo, Dick the dog.
Setting: After Like Like Love.
Summary: Dick is hopeful about getting some scraps from the dinner table, but Dee is adamant that’s not going to happen. Who will win the battle of wills?
Word Count: 412
Written For: My own prompt ‘Any, Any pet, waiting for someone to drop something edible...,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
“Why’s he doin’ that? It’s unnerving!” Dee frowned at the small dog, sitting off to the side of the table, watching them intently.
“He’s hoping we’ll drop something edible.”
Dee looked at his plate, then back at the dog. “He already had his dinner; this is mine!” Looping one arm protectively around his plate, as if expecting the miniature dachshund to somehow launch himself across the intervening distance onto the table and steal something off his plate, Dee hurriedly shovelled food into his mouth with his fork.
“You have worse table manners than the dog,” Ryo told him, trying to keep a straight face, although Dee could see the laughter in his partner’s eyes.
“It’s alright for you; it’s not your dinner he’s eyeing,” Dee grumbled.
“He’s probably decided you’re the most likely to give in to his begging.”
“Well he’s wrong! When it comes to food, I don’t share, not with dogs, and especially not when I’m hungry and the dog already ate.” Dee forced himself to slow his eating again; giving himself indigestion would just wreck his plans for the rest of the evening, and besides, annoying Ryo with bad table manners wouldn’t do him any good either.
Dick the dog didn’t budge from the spot he’d chosen, right where Dee couldn’t help seeing him from the corner of his eye. He licked his lips and Dee growled under his breath.
Ryo snickered, then reached for his glass and took a quick drink, trying to hide his amusement.
“Laugh all you want; that dog’s gonna learn that I’m no pushover. Maybe his owner used to feed him scraps from the table, but he’s wastin’ his time with me. No big brown puppy dog eyes are gonna sway me.”
“Of course not,” Ryo agreed, sopping up the last of the gravy on his plate with a piece of bread and popping it in his mouth before picking up his plate to take to the kitchen. “Dessert should be almost ready. I’ll go check.”
As soon as Ryo had disappeared into the kitchen, Dee soaked up some of the gravy from his own plate on a bit of bread and tossed it to the dog, who caught it and gulped it down, little tail beating a happy tattoo on the floor.
“Dumb dog,” Dee grouched. “That’s all you’re gettin’, so ya can quit beggin’ now.” He scraped his plate clean and took it through to the kitchen. Ryo need never know he’d caved in.
TBC in ‘Purloined’