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alienduckpond · 5 years

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Getting Home - pt 3 - Oaks

Oaks just wants to make sure Sarah gets home ok.

Part 1 Arlo / Part 2 Sam / Part 4 Ginger

-~-

Oaks looked down at the sleeping woman before him, puzzled. He was fairly certain Sarah didn’t usually sleep on the riverbank by the falls, using her bait bucket for a pillow while the caterpillars all crawled away, but then he wasn’t normally around here right now. He glanced up at the sun barely showing over the horizon and tried to work out what time it was, given the season changes, and no, he was normally around Amber Island at this time. So... maybe she did like to sleep here? He shook himself from his thoughts when she shuffled and turned over, and he quickly crouched next to her and grabbed her arm to stop her rolling into the water.

What to do? He didn’t really want to leave her out here, especially since it was the end of Autumn and there’d been frost over everything that morning.

The cold breeze that suddenly swirled around them, making him shiver even with his fur cloak and Sarah to whimper and curl up in a ball, made his decision for him. He quickly but carefully slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her up with no effort, moving her on to one of the rocks slightly uphill before he gathered all her fishing equipment together, scooping up as much of her runaway bait as he could see. He put her things next to her while he worked out how best to carry all of it and her, wondering for a moment how she’d got it all here to start with. He sat her up gently and hoisted her up in a piggy back carry, her bag hanging across his chest as he used her rod under her butt, to avoid having to touch her there without asking.

Just how many fish had she caught he wondered, struggling to balance both her and her bag. It was incredibly heavy, wet, and kept moving as he tried to settle it.

He shifted her slightly, smiling as he felt her grab at the front of his fur before relaxing again as she hummed happily, her cold hands dropping down and brushing against his bare chest making him shiver, and he started walking back towards town. He wasn’t entirely sure what he should do now. He could take her to his house, and they could curl up together with Abu. Or he could take her back to her workshop, and then have to walk back to his house afterwards in the dark. Unless he slept on her sofa? She’d invited him in to eat and play an old relic game together before, so maybe she wouldn’t mind, especially if he woke up before her and could explain how and where he’d found her...

But then thinking about it, he was sure he'd heard her telling Alice that morning that her heating was broken, and she couldn’t fix it till at least tomorrow because she was waiting for some parts to finish on the grinder?

He glanced up when the sound of hooves and the soft jangle of a bell shook him from his thoughts, and saw Captain Arlo trotting towards him over the crest of the hill.

“Evening Oaks, what are you doing around here so early? Is everything o… k... is that Sarah you’re carrying?" Oaks nodded as he watched Arlo slump in his saddle, one of his hands running through his hair as he shook his head and smiled at the point on his shoulder where Sarah’s head was resting. "What happened to her this time? Is she hurt?”

“Good evening Arlo,” he replied quietly, shifting her again when he felt her stir slightly. “I don’t think she’s hurt, just tired. I found her fishing at the Falls spot, and she looked cold so I was just taking her home.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you Oaks,” Arlo replied, matching his volume. “Pass her up here and I’ll take her, so you don’t have to walk all the way to hers.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I’m taking her back to mine.”

Oaks was confused when Arlo froze, his expression changing from amused and gentle with a quirk on his lips, to meeting his eyes with a hard glint and set jaw. What had he done to anger the Captain?

“I don’t think that would be appropriate Oaks, given the circumstances. Pass her here so I can take her home now.” His voice had turned cold, even as it stayed quiet.

“But her heating’s broken, I heard her tell Alice this morning. If she goes back to hers she might freeze.”

He saw something in Arlo’s cheek twitch, before his face smoothed out again, except the deep frown he now wore.

“Then I’ll take her to the Civil Corp and she can sleep there.”

“How is that any different to her sleeping at my house, which is closer so she gets warm sooner?”

“It just is.”

“But why-”

“Because I’m the captain of the Civil Corp and I said so, ok?” he cut across loudly.

“No, you can’t just-”

He stopped everything when a low whimper sounded right next to his ear, and Sarah's arms, which had been hanging loosely against his chest suddenly wrapped around him and gripped his cloaks straps, backs of her fingers snug against his chest. He felt her head shift, bumping against the side of his before she buried her face in the crook of his neck, sighing deeply.

He didn't want to move because that felt…. Nice? Which was strange, because it shouldn't be any different to him giving anyone a piggyback, but for some reason it was making his stomach feel squirmy.

Arlo shifting on Spacer in front of him brought him back to the moment, and he met the Captain's gaze again to find him red faced and glaring, and Oaks felt his temper start to stir. Because really, if anyone should be angry right now it should be him. Arlo had nearly woken Sarah up with his yelling, which was uncalled for, and he was being completely unreasonable about letting him get her somewhere warm and safe, and Abu had raised him to look after others in need, and -

“Good evening, oh, has Sarah fallen asleep out here again? She really does work too hard sometimes.”

“Ginger,” Arlo grunted, clearing his throat hastily and looking over his shoulder back towards town, his cheeks seeming to glow even redder than they had been before. Oaks glared at him a moment longer before turning his attention to Ginger, who was watching him with a strange expression, her lips barely twitching at the edges and her eyes sparkling slightly.

“Good evening Miss Ginger," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb Sarah's rest again. "She has, and I was just taking her back to mine to sleep with Abu, since he’s warm and comfy, and her heating’s broken.”

“No you’re not Oaks, I’m going to take her back to the Civil Corp so she can sleep on the couch there.”

“Abu is warmer and comfier and closer!”

“And the Civil Corp is safer!”

“What do you even mean by that Arlo?” he snapped, glaring up at the other man.

“I mean," Arlo growled back, leaning half off Spacer towards him, "that you-”

“Why not bring her back to my house? She can sleep in my bed, since I’ll be up the rest of the night making my trinkets anyway," Ginger interrupted softly, reaching out to stroke Sarah's hair as she wriggled against his neck again, making his belly do the new flip flop thing.

He opened his mouth to protest again but then, there was no reason why Sarah shouldn’t sleep at Ginger’s house. She’d be warm, safe, and if Gust wasn’t here with Ginger then it meant he was already asleep. And with Mr Gale and Russo also there, Sarah would be perfectly safe. So he closed his mouth, and glanced up at Arlo. Arlo who looked like he’d eaten a lemon whole, but then nodded tightly when he noticed both him and Ginger waiting for a response.

“Excellent. Would you like me to take some of her things from you Oaks, to make her easier to carry?” Ginger asked, holding a hand out politely.

“You could always pass her up here, so you don’t have to walk all that way up-”

Arlo stopped talking and started spluttering instead, his hand flailing wildly in his direction when Sarah shifted yet again, moving her hands from gripping Oaks cloak straps to sliding under them, flat against his shoulders. Her thumbs started moving in circles as she rubbed her face into the side of his head again, saying what sounded like “soft and fluffy duck butts”.

“That would be, ahem,” he coughed, then tried to talk again without squeaking. “That would be kind of you Miss Ginger. If you could just take the bucket here, with the caterpillars? Thank you. If you’re ready to go?”

Ginger giggled quietly, hiding her mouth behind one hand as she waved him forward with the other holding the bucket. He started walking, matching her pace, with Arlo clopping behind them silently, and quick glances over his shoulder showed him still looking grumpy and sour. Not that he knew why at this point. Paying attention to Ginger again, he found her watching him from the corner of her eye, smiling in that strange way he couldn’t work out, and was too scared to ask about.

#My Time At Portia #MTAP #mtap builder #mtap arlo #mtap oaks #mtap ginger #fanfic

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lovelylogans · 6 years

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Could you do "I'm sorry I got way too into playing house" for the weird sentences prompts? 😁

ao3 | other fics on tumblr

warnings: mentions of past animal abuse, mentions of dog killing other small animals (birds and rodentia), some vague anxiety stuff

pairings: platonic lamp, gen

words: 2,203

notes: sure thing! i am also shoehorning this in as a sequel to this previous prompt fic of mine in which the sides adopt a tripod pitbull puppy, so, like, Dog Content™

The puppy’s name, once they came up with it, was just too perfect, really.

“Croft,” Roman cooed, and Croft lifted his head from where he’d been napping on Virgil’s lap. “Crofty, honey, come to papa, I’ve got a new toy!”

Croft snuffled a little, settling his big, meaty head back on Virgil’s nap and staring at Roman with doleful eyes.

Roman sighed at him. “You’re the laziest puppy I’ve ever met,” he said, lowering the toy he’d been squeaking.

“Did you not hear him doing laps in the hallway at three in the morning?” Logan asked, from where he was absentmindedly running his hand up and down Croft’s back. “The dog is nocturnal.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Patton said, and shot a Look to all three of his roommates, as if to truly underline how horrible they were at following Logan’s advice, even Logan himself.

Logan’s original name idea was Crofter’s Premium Spread Logan’s Berry Organic Jam, potentially shortened to CPSLBOJ, which was understandably shot down by everyone in the room. Roman’s next proposal was Crofter’s, to which Virgil said they weren’t naming the dog after a fucking jam brand, and Patton proposed the mediation of Croft: so they could say he’d been named after the jam brand or after Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider franchise.

So Croft had immediately been given a Croft collar tag with all of their phone numbers on it, a custom jam jar toy Roman had commissioned from someone on Etsy that Croft rarely touched, and a fluffy Lara Croft toy that was tucked up by his dog bed that he also rarely touched.

Croft was currently pretty small, since he was still a puppy; according to the vet, he’d probably top out around 80 or 90 pounds. But right now he just had really big ears, a very long tail, and three massive paws that he tripped over pretty often.

Virgil scratched absently behind Croft’s ears, and Croft let out a sort of grumbly happy noise; he was a talkative kind of dog, with a lot of sighs and grumbling and soft little barks they all unanimously called boofs.

He also had the tendency to arororowowow! at them whenever they all left him for a period of time, leaping up on them, eager to be pet, which Logan was trying to train him out of, because whenever he leapt up he didn’t exactly have two stable paws to land on when he came back down.

It wasn’t like they all left him all at once very often; really mostly whenever they went out to dinner. Their schedules were different enough that most of the time one of them was home to take Croft out when he needed it and work on basic training with Croft. He was a smart little guy, and very food-and-affection motivated, so Croft had down the basic sit, shake, lay down thing; they were still working on roll over and heel. And stay; he’d get so excited to follow after wherever they were walking off to, he’d gambol right after them, tail wagging excitedly.

Croft had been living with them for less than a month, but he’d managed to capture all of their hearts basically immediately.

Roman had, in fact, immediately recreated Rosa’s I’ve only had Arlo for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in the room and then myself from Brooklyn 99, with all of them. All four were on their various social medias to announce that they’d gotten a dog, and also printed out and framed in the living room.

It was odd, to look at the photo and Croft now; he’d already grown so much in the month they’d had him.

Croft had his problems too; potty-training was an ongoing battle. He couldn’t handle other dogs, and either got aggressive or whimpering and frightened whenever he saw them, so they always walked him early in the morning, when there wouldn’t be other dogs around. He was a menace to most small rodentia and birds; he’d already killed three robins, a mouse, and had grievously injured a possum.

But he was such a cuddly, eager boy—any difficulties were well worth it.

“Fatherhood has changed me,” Roman had declared once, which—well. Kinda, yeah.

Once they started parting ways, Croft picked his head up from Virgil’s lap, following after them; he slept in their beds, because they were all softies. Croft tended to alternate between all of them, moving from room to room throughout the night. They’d all learned to either sleep through a dog hopping on their bed, or to sleepily roll over, give him a clumsy pat, and go right back to sleep.

Croft was also a bed hog, so it was a bit of a struggle to actually get in bed once he was there; a lot of the time, they had to lift him, set him aside, and quickly lay down under the covers before Croft could decide he wanted to take over their pillows or the center of the bed.

Once Logan came back to his room, ready to curl up in bed, he was unsurprised to see Croft already sprawled wide across the bed.

“Croft, move, you know the drill,” Logan said, shoving him to the other side of the bed and promptly sliding under the covers, turning off the lamp, sending them into darkness; there was the familiar press of Croft’s cold nose as he situated himself, pressing as close as he could get to Logan.

Logan wrapped an arm around him, sleepy, and pressed his nose against Croft’s back, inhaling his doggish scent. He loved this dog, to a degree he’d never actually admit out loud.

“Good boy,” Logan whispered, and Croft let out a sleepy little sigh.

Roman woke up to a tongue on his face.

Roman squinted, and laughed a little, narrowly dodging a doggy kiss straight into the mouth, nudging Croft’s head aside.

“M’up, m’up,” Roman said, and patted him on the back. “Let’s hope you didn’t leave any surprises around the apartment, how about a bit of a w—stroll, huh?”

Croft had quickly learned what the w word meant, so they either spelled it out or used some other word, lest Croft start bouncing around eagerly.

No surprises, which was good, and Roman tugged on some clothes, hunting around for a plastic baggie and Croft’s leash, at which point, Croft started bouncing eagerly, running between Roman and the door, jumping and wagging his tail so fast his whole butt wiggled.

“I know, I know!” Roman said with a laugh. “Okay, now—sit.”

Croft sat. Well, mostly; he sat in such a way that his butt didn’t quite touch the ground.

“Let’s go!” Roman said, opening the front door, and Croft charged forth, yanking Roman forward with his odd-hopping gait, throwing himself into the walk with all his force.

Roman liked taking Croft on these early morning walks; it was some exercise, which was nice, and… well.

He’d never tell his roommates this, but Croft was a really good listener.

He knew that Croft didn’t actually understand him, but he was good at seeming like he did; there were the huffs, and pants, and looks that he did often. It was just kind of nice to… talk, sometimes.

“It’s probably going to be a bit of a long day,” Roman told Croft, as Croft sniffed interestedly at a tree. “I’m not going to be here a lot. Rehearsals are really picking up pace.”

Croft made a snuffling noise.

“Yeah, I know, I haven’t been here as much,” Roman said, “but you’ve got the other three, too, ya know? I’ll try and keep morning walks free and extra long, how about that?”

Croft tilted his head a little, and trotted-hopped onwards. Good enough for Roman.

The walk in the brisk fall weather continued like that; Roman talking to Croft about his schedule, his worries, and each time, Croft would make some kind of noise, or wag his tail.

It was just nice, Roman guessed, to talk to someone who’d keep all your secrets, and not judge you for silly things like I’m worried that I’m going to mess up onstage and everyone’s going to hate me for it. Croft would just wag his tail and lick him and flop down on the couch with him once they’d gotten through with the walk, demanding all the pets that Roman could give him.

Listen, Virgil had been team cat, all the way. He was as surprised as anyone to find out how much he liked having a dog.

Virgil cracked his eyes open when the door creaked open, irrationally afraid (when wasn’t he irrationally afraid, though?) that Patton had gotten back early and noticed Virgil wasn’t on campus today. Virgil frowned, because no one was there.

The sudden displacement of his mattress spoke of a different story, and Virgil let a hand flop in Croft’s direction.

“Hey, bud,” he said, voice scratchy. “I’m not really… at my best today, so if you wanna play tug or something—”

Croft made the grumbling-sighing noise at him, and instead laid his big head on Virgil’s chest, huffing a breath through his nose.

“Oh,” Virgil said, at last, and paused, hand hovering, before he at last let it come down on Croft’s head. “Cuddle time, huh? That’s what you want?”

Sometimes, it seemed like Croft’s favorite times of day were in the early morning, when he cuddled up against any of them and they both snoozed until they actually had to wake up. Virgil had never before met a (would be) 90 pound dog who was so convinced he was a lapdog.

“Mkay,” Virgil murmured, and they adjusted—Croft ended up, essentially, on his side, mostly laying on top of Virgil, head tucked in the space between Virgil’s head and neck.

Virgil, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around Croft’s body—to make sure he stayed in place and didn’t fall off, and stuff.

The warmth and the weight of him was doing something to make Virgil’s eyelids feel heavier, though. Croft would occasionally rumble in his ear, in his sleep; Virgil envied the swiftness with which he could fall asleep.

“You’re a good boy,” Virgil managed to say, and started petting Croft; his fur was kind of bristly, and it provided an interesting texture under his hands. Something else to focus on.

“Such a good boy,” Virgil murmured, hand continuing to make the lazy path up and down Croft’s back.

So dogs weren’t that bad, after all.

“Crofty Crofty Croft!” Patton sing-songed, bent forward, hands on his knees. “Who’s a good boy? Whosagoodboy?!”

Croft was eagerly wagging his tail. Who is the good boy?!

“Is it you?!” Patton crooned, and giggled as Croft hopped a little. “Is it you?! I think it is! You’re such a good boy, Croft!”

He scooped up Croft in his arms (he was genuinely considering taking up weightlifting so he’d be able to keep picking him up once he was fully grown) and planted a kiss on his little forehead, Croft wiggling in his arms.

Patton was alone for the evening, but that was okay, because he’d thought of some things to try with Croft! Things they’d never done with him before!

“We’re gonna do an experiment, baby!” Patton crooned, and at last set Croft down. “Okay, so, here we go! I got some new things to try!”

There were a lot of new toys. Unsurprisingly, Croft loved all the ones that would transfer a treat to himself; Patton could relate to wanting only food and love. Like, a lot.

To the point he immediately snapchatted an image of Croft chasing clumsily after a treat ball with that exact caption to his roommates.

Okay, he might have snapchatted a lot of pictures of Croft. His camera roll was now almost exclusively pictures of Croft or his friends, but really mostly Croft.

Patton, at last, dug out the piece de resistance, as Roman would say, and crooned at Croft to come—and immediately realized some flaws with this plan.

But he was gonna make it work!

“Patton, we’re home,” Virgil called, and frowned.

Croft hadn’t come running as soon as they came through the door. That was… different.

Logan and Roman were exchanging looks of a similar degree, Logan already half-crouched, as if just out of habit. He cleared his throat and stood up, straightening his tie.

“Kitchen!” Patton called, and all three progressed forwards, before coming to a stop.

Patton, blinking, turned from where he’d been stirring a pot on the stove, holding Croft (in a onesie) on his hip, as if Croft was a baby.

“Um,” Virgil said at last. “Patton.”

Patton blinked at him, and looked at Croft, and then back to them, before he laughed a little nervously, setting Croft back on the ground so Croft could hop forth and demand love.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got way into playing house.”

“We baby this dog too much,” Logan said ruefully, before immediately helping Croft unearth a slightly trapped treat from the treat ball and giving it to him.

“He deserves it,” Roman declared, and nobody could quite find it in themselves to disagree.

#my fic #my fanfic #lamp #sanders sides fanfic #anonymous #ask #logan #virgil #patton #roman

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