Jensen’s attempt to prepare a back-up career as a director is taking its toll, with the long hours and the stress and the extra second-guessing that comes from having to direct himself in some scenes. Not that they talk about it all that much. Or at all. But when Jared comes home from a run, or as today stumbles out of the bedroom unshaven and in his most threadbare pyjamas, to find an extra pet lounging about waiting for him, it’s kind of a giveaway.

Pet Jensen is sleek and dark, wearing a black t-shirt and slinky black pants. He’s barefoot, his wrists are bare of watch and bracelet, and he’s wearing a heavy silver chain around his neck which ought to look like it came out of the wardrobe department of some awful gangsta rap video but actually looks like it came off the neck of some scary large dog.

“Morning, Sadie, guys!” Jared calls, and is promptly accosted by two gigantic balls of fur and, moments later, one ball of non-fur. He pats heads right, left, and centre, murmurs his usual enthusiastic doggy-gibberish. Sadie slips away to run rings around him, yipping, tail wagging furiously enough to propel a light aircraft. Harley keeps looking deliberately in the direction of the kitchen, where the food is. Jensen just sits there on his heels, rubbing his cheek over Jared’s thigh and sighing softly to himself as Jared pats him. Jared can almost sense his friend’s tension easing away with every touch.

“All right, then, so who’s hungry?”

Two tails wag even more vigorously, whipping at Jared’s legs and Jensen’s back. Jensen whines piteously as if he’s starving or something. Which he might be. Guy does have his Method moments, after all. Jared detaches himself, careful not to trip over anyone, and leads the way into the kitchen. He puts Jensen on a stay in the corner while the dogs get started on their kibble. Then he washes his hands, gets out the toaster, bread, skillet, bacon, and other goodies, and whistles as he gets to work.

Ten minutes later, he sits at the table with an enormous plate of food, carefully cutting up Jensen’s breakfast into bite-sized morsels for hand-feeding. Then he offers his pet a small square of toast with a piece of bacon and a dollop of scrambled egg piled on top. Jensen opens his mouth wide, accepts the offering, chews with great care while somehow managing to grin hugely. Afterwards, he makes a grand show of licking his chops, green eyes bright with pleasure, and Jared laughs as he gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. At his other side, Sadie jostles for goodies, but he turns to send her a look and she gives a huff and a sort of doggy shrug before trotting away, probably to claim the sofa while no one’s looking.

Feeding Jensen takes a long time, and both their food’s getting kinda cold by the end, but, hey, cold bacon is still bacon, right? Jared drinks half his orange juice, then tips the cup for Jensen so he can lap noisily at it with his pink tongue for show before drinking.

“Good boy. Gotta stay hydrated.” As he puts the empty glass back on the table, Jensen looks so innocently proud of himself that Jared can perfectly picture the way his tail would be thumping the floor if only he had one. “Now what do you say we leave loading the dishwasher for later, and all go lie on daddy’s nice big bed with the newspaper?”

Jensen opens his mouth, lets out his tongue, and pants. Jared smiles at him, scritches behind his ear. Jensen squirms in pleasure, and Jared feels that insane urge to hug him so tight that it’s painful. Instead, he gets up to go retrieve the paper from the doorstep. Which makes Harley pout, so Jared rolls up the real estate section for him to carry, since he doesn’t much care if that gets destroyed.

[...]