masonburke:
A warm smile overtook Mason’s face as he watched Hunter lavish Emerson with attention—hardly an unfamiliar sight, but always a welcome one. As friendly as the dog was, he was fairly sure that Hunter was one of his favorite humans, either from constant exposure or from the endlessly indulgent petting. “We were just going on a long morning walk to get this guy’s energy down a bit, and he managed to drag me down into town,” Mason replied, nodding to their general surroundings.
Then he quirked a brow, giving Hunter an amused look. “Never thought I’d run into you in front of Bluebird, though. I thought you didn’t like reading much?” He didn’t think that had changed since Hunter was a kid—or, at least, they hadn’t mentioned it if it had. He remembered very well what a struggle it had been to get them through their English homework, how he’d helped them read aloud and thought up up all sorts of games to make the dry work more dynamic for them. It had been fun for both of them.
Not that he would admit it to anyone but Hunter, but they had definitely been his favorite kid to babysit.
“Mm. Smart boy! Did you drag your dad’s hermit ass out to where actual humans live? Did you? You did, didn't you?" Although they're addressing Emerson once more, their tone that of high-pitched baby talk, it's evident that Hunter is simply being a little shit this time. Still, their own sense of humor doesn't particularly align with snarky, sass-filled teasing. Finding laughter in making people feel bad about themselves doesn’t quite sit well with them, even if it’s done as a harmless joke ― though the occasional smartass remarks will sneak past their lips. (They can’t help it!) So Hunter’s mischievous smirk morphs into a more genuine one, knowing Mason’s preference for peace and quiet, putting a safe distance between himself and the town’s gossip mill.
“I don’t. Reading is for nerds,” they quip back in a sing-songy voice, clearly joking, before stepping aside for him to take a gander at the collection of titles on sale. He’s the one who has always been an avid reader, as long as they can remember. (Their own memories of Mason become clearer starting from their middle school years; anytime before that is a bit fuzzy, as childhood memories often are, aided by home video tapes and old photographs.)
“I was thinkin’ of getting ice cream or a smoothie or something before opening up, then I got distracted.” Their shoulders move in a shrug, hands stuck inside the pockets of their cargo shorts. “Ooh! Wanna come with? No, don’t answer that, ‘cause I know you do, bro."
















