Caretaker with a cool cloth on a sleeping feverish Whumpee, and Whumpee kinda half wakes up, Caretaker shushes them back to sleep “It’s okay, I’m just trying to get your fever down. You can go back to sleep”
me personally I prefer cold because I like it when characters cuddle and stuff and hehehehee
how about you?
that's a good question!
cold is great for cuddling and the iconic caretaker lending sickie their jacker or coat. a lot of cozy and intimate moments can come out of a freezing cold sickie. shivering, blankets, hot cocoa, fireplace, all that fluffy stuff. they can get buried in a pule of fuzzy blankets with caretaker's body heat to warm them up.
heat is great for when a character is trying to hide their illness. you can make excuses for feeling cold, but feeling hot? a lot harder to lie your way out of being unwell when you're flushed and sweaty and out of breath and just about ready to collapse. and when that happens and they're reduced to a limp puddle in their friend or partner's arms, it's Worried Caretaker time. bringing them to bed, taking their temperature (and audibly gasping at the number) and trying everything to cool them down. ice packs and cold compresses, fan on full blast, sickie always either sleeping or crying about how it's just so hot that it hurts their skin and they're so thirsty and no matter what they do nothing is comfortable. even after they can't muster the energy to talk anymore, their face does a good enough job at showing their discomfort.
i love both and they're great for different things.
So, I started writing something whumpy, and then, me being me, it took a little u-turn and instead became a bit of fluff whump. Scott was having a great day, right up until the point he nearly gives Virgil a heart attack.
Available here on AO3
The day had gone well, there was a buzz of a job well done running through his veins. Scott let the buzz carry him off to the hangar changing rooms for a shower, bringing a lightness to his step that was a rare enough thing to be noteworthy nowadays. Leaning into the shower cubicle, he flipped the water on full, dodging away quickly before the spray caught his still fully clothed self. He let his uniform fall to the floor in a messy pile by the benches, he would be done and clear before the others go back anyway.
Kicking his legs free from the flight suit and hurrying his steps towards the now steaming water without a backwards glance. The water pressure was emphatic, the waterfall shower instantly drenching him head to toe. Closing his eyes he let his head tilt back, washing the hair back from his face, there was a moment of unsteadiness, an unexpected wobble in his balance. He frowned, was there leftover soap underfoot making him slip? Leveling himself out, Scott opened his eyes and glanced down. His eyes caught a splash of colour circling the drain, something garish against the pristine white.
Not dye in the showerhead again - please? Scott cursed whoever mentioned the idea of siblings to his parents. Stepping to the side and directing his eyes up to inspect the showerhead - nothing, Why was it always red dye? Well, when it wasn’t the blue. Gordon had been ecstatic when he found a henna based red that added a certain vibrancy to even the brunettes in the family. Scott knew he should have tracked the shipping order to check quite how much had been ordered and not just assumed that he had successfully confiscated it all. There were crimson splashes up the shower wall now. Scott swore, he was damn sure he wasn’t going to be the one cleaning that up. But where was it coming from? Then he caught his own distorted reflection in the chrome of the shower controls and the colour seemed suddenly more worrying. He looked like he had been in a fight.
Oh shit, he was going to get so much grief for this. He swiped a hand across the flow of blood.
Logically Scott knew that a nose bleed was outside his control, and therefore it was unlikely to come with a side portion of the “you need to take better care of yourself” lecture. Evenso, he should probably do something to tidy himself up before he gave anyone a heart attack. He stumbled out of the shower, missing the warm jets of water immediately, and leaving a smeared red handprint on his way.
He started fumbling with his discarded baldric on the changing room floor, but then realised he was dripping diluted blood everywhere since he hadn’t grabbed his towel for fear of staining the pristine towelling fabric. Opting for speed, Scott diverted instead through the door to the toilet, grabbing a fist full of toilet paper and shoving it over his dripping nose.
What a pitiful sight he made, bare to his birthday suit, with rapidly cooling pink tinted water running down his shivering, goose bump adorned body. The wedge of toilet paper was starting to disintegrate in his wet hands, clumps sticking to his damp face. Water was pooling around his freezing feet.
Ok, one problem at a time.
A calming deep breath to reset, only resulted in a mouthful of soggy tufts of toilet paper.
Yeah, this needed sorting. A tentative final dab and the bleeding seemed to have stopped, so at least that was one tick on the list.
But that still left him minus clothes standing in a mildly pink puddle of cold water. First stop, back to the shower. Flushing the soggy tissues down the pan, Scott skittered across the tiled floor and back into the warm embrace of the steaming shower. It really looked like a murder had happened in there.
Scott was fully occupied in trying to splash water at the worst of the blood splatters when he heard the cry through the roar of the water.
“Scott!! Scott are you ok!”
That was all the warning he got before the door of the shower cubicle came crashing inwards.
Scott shouted. Shrieked? Nope, it couldn’t have been described as anything other than a high pitched scream. He might later try and blame it on the result of abused nasal passages, but it was still a scream. He adopted the cartoon classic pose of trying to protect his modesty using only a raised leg and jazz hands, but Virgil was already deploying a med scanner and had grabbed hold of his wrist to check his pulse, because he always complained that the med scanners took too long. Scott snatched his wrist back and tried to throw a series of reassuring words at his brother as he shoved him back out of the cubicle.
“I’m Fine, no problems! Nosebleed! Get out!”
The scanner, or his strong regular pulse, must have backed Scott up, because Virgil stayed on the other side of the door, and let out a massive breath.
“Shit, Scott, it looks like you were in a knife fight out here. That’s scared a few years off my total. What did you do? Wipe your nose on every available surface?”
“Sorry,” Scott called back as he turned the water off and carefully wrapped himself in the lovely white towel. It was risky given the amount of splatters still to be cleaned up, but it seemed a price worth paying to regain some final scraps of dignity.
By the time Scott had safely ensconced himself into towelling and risked a peak at the crime scene in the locker room, his brother had been replaced with a bucket and mop standing sentinel in the middle of the floor. Looks like he was going to be cleaning that up after all.
Whumpee coughed, feeling the vibrations ripple through their congested chest. Rolling over, they groaned, their head feeling heavy as another chill danced over their bones.
Pulling the blankets higher, they sniffed, curling into a ball as they shivered. Whumpee hated being sick. It hurt to swallow, it hurt to breathe, they felt to hot and the minute they cooled down, they felt too cold. They were hungry but the second they tried to eat food they lost their appetite…
They couldn’t win.
They had decided to wear shorts and a loose singlet, nestling under blankets, the best compromise they could think of, even if their legs felt a bit cold and achy.
Sighing, Whumpee cleared their throat of slimy phlegm buildup and sat up, immediately regretting it as the world swayed, making them feel nauseous. They forced their weak, shaking legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it over their shoulders shuffling towards the kitchen.
Their work colleague, Caretaker had made some soup and left it for them in the fridge, telling them to warm it up if they wanted any. When Whumpee hadn’t turned up to work a few days ago, Caretaker, knowing Whumpee lived alone, had come by to check in on them, finding them curled up in bed, delirious with the flu. Caretaker had then spent the past few days visiting them when they could, attempting to help nurse Whumpee back to health.
Whumpee had long suspected Caretaker had a massive crush on them. Caretaker would take any opportunity they could to talk to Whumpee, and Whumpee had caught them on many an occasion staring at them while they worked. Whumpee didn't mind, they liked Caretaker as well, maybe as a good friend or maybe something more, they couldn’t be sure…
Whumpee pulled open the fridge, shivering as the cold air washed over them. They found the small plastic container, filled to the brim with a thick, creamy soup. Whumpee lifted it out with both hands, not strong enough to hold it with just one. Carrying it their microwave, their blanket fell from around their shoulders.
Sighing in annoyance, Whumpee lifted the container into the microwave, trying to decide how long to put it in for through their hazy mind. '40 seconds should do.'
They pulled off the lid, punching in a number and pressing the 'START' button without even checking the time they had set it to. Bending down with their aching joints, they grabbed their blanket, pulling it back over their shoulders.
Whumpee stared out their kitchen window, zoning out as they waited, the buzz of the microwave droning on and on in the back of their mind. After a while they frowned, ‘That’s been in there for a while, maybe I should check it.’
Turning to the microwave, they gasped, rushing forwards. “No, no, no, no!” They begged, hitting cancel. They had pressed to 4 too many times, setting the microwave to 4 minutes and 40 seconds. Ripping open the door, they lifted the scalding soup from the microwave with the tips of their fingers, but as they tried to place it in their sink to let the soft plastic cool, the sagging bottom of the container split open, sending boiling soup splashing onto Whumpee’s bare legs. They howled dropping to the floor and watching in horror as their skin turned scarlet.
Thinking quickly, the grabbed their blanket, wiping off what they could, before rolling over onto the ice cold tiles of the kitchen, sighing at the brief moment of relief they provided. They moaned in pain as they inched across the kitchen, if they could get it to their phone, they could call for help except… a sinking feeling set in.
Whumpee had left their phone charging in their room, all the way on the other side of their house… Sobbing, they continued to crawl, making it halfway to their room, before they collapsed in a shaking ball. They couldn’t do it, they were too sick… their shins and feet were too painful. They could feel the large blisters forming as they curled up on their side and shut their eyes, accepting their fate, the hazy fever consuming them.
~~
Caretaker lifted the doormat, finding the key and opening Whumpee's front door. The smell of Whumpee’s home washed over them as they stepped inside, followed by the smell of something... burnt?
“Hey, Whumpee? It’s Caretaker.” No reply. “Probably asleep…” Caretaker murmured to themself. Whumpee had been asleep a lot recently, given their condition. It wasn’t unlikey that they were asleep now, but that burnt smell was worrying them. Caretaker crept to Whumpee's room, expecting to find them huddled under a mountain of blankets, but their bed was empty. “Maybe they went to the bathroom.” Caretaker reasoned out loud. They crossed the hallway, into the bathroom. Nothing. “Huh… Maybe they moved to the main room?”
But when Caretaker entered the main part of the house, they gasped in horror. Whumpee was collapsed on the floor, unconscious, a trail of soup behind them. Caretaker ran over to them, shaking them awake.
“Whumpee, Whumpee, what happened?” Whumpee mumbled something incoherent, raising their head to look at Caretaker, before letting it drop back down to the ground. Caretaker looked them over, finding the burns on Whumpee’s legs and feet, causing them to gasp in shock.
Large, angry blisters were stretching over Whumpee’s burned legs.
Caretaker immediately jumped into action, picking up Whumpee under their arms and dragging their heavy, limp body to the bathroom. They heaved Whumpee into the bath and turned on the tap, letting it flood Whumpee's skin with cool, flowing water.
Whumpee moaned in relief, letting their head fall back against the rim of the tub. Their skin was still quite pale and sickly looking as Caretaker watched them with worry. “Whumpee, what happened?”
Whumpee was silent for a moment, before mumbling some slurred nonsense and a microwave and a sink. They sat together in silence for minutes, letting the water run over Whumpee’s burns until they moaned quietly, their eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted in pain. Caretaker watched in concern as Whumpee’s moans grew quieter, their shivering growing worse.
Resting their hand on Whumpee’s forehead, Caretaker felt their skin. It was ice cold. Caretaker shot up, running to Whumpee’s room to grabbing them a blanket, returning to Whumpee and wrapping the blanket around their freezing friend.
~~
“C-Care…” Whumpee mumbled, cracking open their eyes, turning their head slowly too look at Caretaker. “Too cold…” They whispered, shuddering as they wrapped their arms around their quacking body. They felt ice cold, unable to warm up, not even after Caretaker wrapped the blanket around them. Their lips were slowly turning blue, their eyes shutting as they slid down the edge of the tub, gasping and coughing as darkness began to creep into their vision. Their breathing grew faster as they tried to fight it off, but they were so, so cold…
Whumpee coughed, sliding down the edge of the bath, their body going limp as they fell unconscious. “Whumpee?” Caretaker asked, hauling Whumpee back up. Their head flopped back heavily, their skin cold and blue as Caretaker sat them up, shaking Whumpee to try and wake them. Whumpee didn’t move.
Caretaker felt sick, was Whumpee hypothermic? Had they done this to them? Whumpee was so cold and pale…
Pulling their phone from their pocket, Caretaker dialed the emergency number and waited for them to pick up. When Caretaker finally got through, they stumbled over their words as they explained to the operator what was happening.
Within minutes, paramedics had pulled up and were unpacking bags, asking Caretaker questions. “How long since they got burned, passed out, in the water, how long, when did, what is…?”
All the questions became a blur as they draped plastic wrap over Whumpee’s burns and lifted them from the bath, wrapping them in a silver sheet.
Caretaker ended up in the back of the ambulance with Whumpee, watching their body jostle as the ambulance sped over bumps in the road. Whumpee looked so small and fragile strapped to the stretcher. Caretaker swallowed the urge to throw up as they watched their friend slipping away in front of them… and it was their fault.
~~
The ambulance pulled in the the ED and the paramedics carted Whumpee out straight away, leaving Caretaker to wander in behind them, dazed. They watched as Whumpee was treated, gripping their hands into tight fists, their knuckles beginning to ache until they released them.
A nurse invited Caretaker to sit by Whumpee and wait for them to wake up, which Caretaker did anxiously. Whumpee took ages to wake up, but when they did, the first thing they did was smile at Caretaker. “Whumpee, thank goodness you’re okay, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault...” Caretaker murmured, brushing some hair off of Whumpee’s forehead.
"No... it isn't..." Whumpee whispered, as Caretaker's gentle hands stroked their face.
Whumpee groaned softly, leaning into the pleasant sensation with a contented smile, before their face fell. “I feel… weird…” Caretaker sighed, trying to hold back a laugh. “It’s probably the drugs they put you on. They said you might feel a bit strange.” Whumpee nodded, before reaching for Caretaker’s hand gently stroking their face.
Caretaker’s stomach did a flip.
~~
Whumpee’s fingers brushed Caretaker’s, looking up at their friend's face, noticing how their cheeks were slightly pink. “Thank..you…” They grabbed Caretaker’s hand properly, pressing it into their cheek.
“If you hadn't…”
Caretaker’s eyes brimmed with tears as they leaned down and wrapped Whumpee in a massive hug. “I was so scared, Whumpee…” Caretaker whispered in their ear.
“I know, I was too, but when you were there, I knew I was safe…” Caretaker pulled back slightly, looking redder than a tomato. “What… what do you mean?” They stuttered, making Whumpee smirk as they shut their tired eyes.
“Later…” They mumbled, their hand relaxing as they passed out.
~~
When Whumpee checked out of the hospital, Caretaker was waiting there to pick them up. They hugged each other awkwardly, before getting into Caretaker’s car sitting in silence as Caretaker drove.
The curiosity soon got the better of Caretaker, and they turned to Whumpee. “Hey, so you said something back at the hospital… you never ended up explaining it.”
Whumpee frowned, “Honestly, I hardly remember anything, they had me doped up on so many drugs.” They laughed, running their hand though their hair nervously. “What was it?”
They glanced at Caretaker who glanced back briefly, before turning into the driveway of Whumpee’s house. “Oh, nothing, you just said that you were scared… until I was there…” Caretaker tried to sound casual as the car gently stopped in the driveway, but they began blushing hard, looking at their lap, embarrassed.
~~
Whumpee looked at them, chuckling, before getting out of the car. They waited for a second before bending down and looking in.
“Well, you coming in, or what?”
Caretaker’s eyes sparked with excitement as they got out of the car, helping Whumpee back inside, making sure they were comfortable lying on their sofa. Squeezing in next to Whumpee, Caretaker blushed again, stealing a glance at them as they lay back a little, supporting themself on their elbows. Whumpee noticed, sighing slightly and smirking at them.
“I meant it, you know.” They piped up, looking at Caretaker’s face. They watched their friend frown as Whumpee moved slightly closer, sitting up a little more. “I was scared, until I knew you were there. I couldn’t move, but I knew I was okay, because I could hear your voice and you…” Whumpee’s eyes searched Caretaker’s their faces slowly growing closer.
Before Caretaker realised what was happening, Whumpee’s lips touched theirs. They felt a zing down their spine as Whumpee’s hand made it’s way up Caretaker’s back and neck, settling gently in their hair. Caretaker reciprocated, leaning into Whumpee’s body and melting into their arms. They straddled Whumpee's waist, tilting them back onto the sofa, both of them completely engulfed in each other’s presence until Caretaker’s foot brushed Whumpee’s burned leg.
Whumpee felt a sting flash like lightning through their shin, pulling back and gasping in pain. Caretaker sat up, panicked as they watched Whumpee groan in pain.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Whumpee, I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just got a bit carried away and... Oh fuck, are you okay?!” Caretaker stumbled over their words, getting off Whumpee's hips and sliding away, mortified.
Whumpee smiled moving into a sitting position, legs safely out of the way. “No, it's fine... I think we should just stay up right for now…” They murmured, pulling Caretaker on top of them again. Caretaker met Whumpee halfway, giggling through the kisses, fingers becoming wrapped in each other’s hair, the both of them oblivious of the world around them.
All that mattered was that they had each other, and that nothing, not even 2nd degree burns were going to take that away from them.
I made some changes to Chapter 1 of my RainCode sickfic making Yakou even more fatherly and warm a caretaker towards Yuma and made Yuma a bit more pathetic... xD
I just love them so much
The perfect father/son found family pair ☔️
At this point I’m just the CEO of making this poor boy suffer… 💦🌡️ I’m so sorry Yuma 😅
Tonight I bring y’all pure unabashed future fluff. I don’t think I’ve ever written something this soft before. I’d say it’s disgustingly soft, but the boys really needed some comf :’) we’ll be back to our programmed whump content in the next part lol
This is set many months after Liam is rescued, and after he forgives Chase for the betrayal. So, like, MANY months from where the story is now.
-
“I’m lost,” Liam whispers to the stars. The grass field in front of the cottage he and Chase rented or, more truthfully, stole for a few weeks, would be in complete darkness if it wasn’t for the tiny spots shining above him. There’s only the moon out here to listen and keep him company as Liam lets his eyes wander from star to star. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
He doesn’t fight the tears that slip down from the corners of his eyes and disappear into his hair. Just lets them go, along with everything he used to be and doesn’t know where to find anymore.
“I do,” comes the voice from behind.
Liam flinches even before he has the chance to recognize Chase’s quiet tone. His cheeks tinge red, embarrassment gnawing at his insides.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he says softly, watching from the ground as Chase lies down next to him.
“Sorry. I thought you might want the company.”
His heart is still pounding from the scare, but Liam has learned that he can never tell Chase no when he is being this open, so weirdly vulnerable, so different from the mysterious man he once was. Liam nods and looks back up.
“Did you know that the constellation right there is called Tiny Fairy?”
Liam turns his head to the side and frowns at Chase. “No, it isn’t. There’s no constellation called that.”
“Of course there is,” he says calmly, pointing a finger to the sky. “There are the wings, and right there the arms. See?”
Liam squints, but the stars, as usual, just look like stars. “I can’t see it, but okay, if you’re saying it then I believe you.”
Chase’s head snaps to the side, something akin to surprise in his gaze, the tug of a sad smile on his lips. “I’m not being serious. There’s no Tiny Fairy constellation. There could be, though, it really looks like it.”
Liam snorts and rolls his eyes. Fitting.
“Liam.” He shoots Chase a side glance. “Whoever you are now, whoever you’ve become after the hell you went through, is still someone worthy of love. Someone I’ll always admire and care about, no matter how much you change. You know that, right?”
His voice is light, as silky as his fingers once were against Liam’s skin. Still, somehow, it makes his heart weigh heavy inside of him.
“What if I don’t love me anymore?”
“I can love you for us both until you find yourself again,” Chase whispers.
Liam doesn’t smile, but something in his chest becomes a little lighter. There’s still hurt there, pushing and pulling and aching, but Chase’s words are a fresh breeze on a hot day. Blows away the heat, brings in a new breath of air even though they both know it won’t last. It’s only a breeze after all.
Still, Liam enjoys it while he can, and under the night sky with no one there but the two of them, he silently reaches out a hand to touch Chase’s fingers, fingertips only grazing his skin, but enough for his heart to race for the right reasons this time. He doesn’t have to look to the side to know Chase is holding his breath. He is too.
They move at the same time to entwine their fingers, and in tandem with them, a shooting star crosses the sky.
Liam makes his wish and tries not to look at Chase as he does.
The grass under his body flutters in the night wind, crickets chirp, and Liam pretends that this is all there is. That this is the whole world. That there’s no one out there hunting him, just waiting for him to slip up. This is his whole world, and all it is made of is Chase and the night.
“What did you wish for?” Chase asks after a while.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
Chase laughs, and the sound fills one of the many little holes in Liam’s heart.
“What did you wish for?” Liam asks.
“What about the ‘if I tell you it won’t come true’?”
He smiles, and for once in a long time, the stretching of his lips feels true. Right. He smiles wider.
“You are beautiful,” Chase says, just like one would whisper a prayer. Despite every scar telling a different story, Liam believes him. There’s no way to doubt when Chase looks at him like that, like he is his whole world too.
“Can I–“, Liam stops, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“Can you what?” Chase squeezes his hand, a slight crease in his forehead at the uncertainty in Liam’s face. “Tell me.”
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. It is nervous and small and hesitant and feels so infinitely stupid once it leaves his mouth.
They haven’t touched each other like that since the time when Liam thought Chase was a journalist. Even though sparks still dance over Liam’s skin every time their bodies come close, it never lasts. They always pull away. Liam, because sometimes the thought of being touched without notice feels too much like being back with Jonah. Chase, probably because Liam is so broken he’s become all but a burden now.
Why would he think that Chase’d want to kiss him now? Holding hands doesn’t mean that they are back to what they once were, not after all that happened. Not after he’s been ruined, scarred, broken.
What a stupid fucking idea, why did he–
“Are you sure?”
Liam stares at Chase, blinking surprised eyes at the hope on his face.
“I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for,” Chase says, sounding as worried as Liam was a moment ago. “Are you–“
He raises himself up on one elbow and leans over Chase. Before he can finish the sentence, Liam smiles and presses his lips against Chase’s.
The kiss is something made out of tenderness and longing, sprinkled with stardust. It is soft, as soft as the hands they bury in each other’s hair, the one Chase wraps around his waist to keep Liam there.
When it ends, it is only so Chase can whisper “This was my wish. This, right here,” before kissing him again.
Liam smiles against his lips, and as the kiss deepens, he doesn’t tell Chase that this is what he wished for too.
If you want to, can you write about Brody accidentally getting locked outside? This is inspired by that part in the stress relief piece where Sam is wondering if Brody got locked out. And like when Sam goes to let Brody in, he could jokingly ask Brody if he was trying to leave/escape. (And then of course Brody would panic & deny that)
[Thanks anon! I’ve had a couple mentions for more Brody-begging, so lets see how this goes! 💛]
CW: pet whump, begging. That’s about it. It’s honestly as close to fluff as Sam is gonna get.
Brody sat looking out the window to the backyard, chin resting on the windowsill. It was a nice day out, and Samuel was working from home, so maybe they would go on a walk? Or at least outside? He wanted to, but he let the want slide passively away. His old Master didn’t let him go outside much either.
A white blur caught his attention. A plastic bag had gotten caught up in the wind and blown over the fence. It stuck on the patio chair and flapped in the breeze.
Brody sat up and looked at it. Ew. He should go get that and throw it away.
He stood and walked over to the back door. He was allowed in the backyard, but Master always told him when to go outside… but he was allowed…. and the bag was right there. It would only take a second.
Brody popped out the back door and took a few steps across the patio to the white plastic. It was one of those Thank you Thank you Thank you designs. He turned crumpled it with one and hand took a deep breath of the fresh air before going back inside.
Or at least trying to.
The door had locked when it swung closed behind him.
~
Samuel went down to the kitchen for a snack. The second he stepped onto the tile, there was a tapping sound coming from the sliding glass door.
“Master?” came Brody’s muffled voice from the other side of the glass. Samuel turned, and saw his pet pressed up against the glass, both hands framing his face and squished nose. “I got stuck.”
Samuel held his head with his hands as he laughed. It was that giggling kind of laugh he knew would start all over again whenever the memory passed over his mind. He took a quick photo before he unlocked the back door.
“What’s up, bud? Get lost trying to run away?” Brody’s face fell from an embarrassed smile to panic in a millisecond.
“N-no, no! No Master, I would never! Please, I, I don’t, I don’t want to go anywhere else I don’t want to go away. There, t-there was a, a bag! And I just wanted to, I mean I thought I should, or, I, I’m sorry. I, I have the bag! I got it! I’m sorry. Please Master, please I wasn’t trying to get away, I promise. I promise!”
The boy held out the plastic bag in trembling hands, and Samuel just sighed contently as he hooked an elbow around the pet’s neck and pulled him close.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re all forgiven now.”
~
[i am tagging the Brody crew because this mental image made me laugh and y’all should laugh too.
