maskormenacelogs | lonely little love dog that no one knows the name of

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lonely little love dog that no one knows the name of

WHO: Casa Ludgate-Graham
WHERE: ...Casa Ludgate-Graham
WHEN: Sunday night/Monday morning
WHAT: Will comes back a bit differently than before and it has nothing to do with Baltimore or Hannibal this time.
WARNINGS: dogs + gratuitous male nudity

What was all Will could think after he realized his lungs weren't full of frigid water. There were only two places he could be, he came to think a good minute later: waterlogged or in a waterlogged state with a family he'd never know if he hadn't taken the plunge. Finally getting himself together, the car ride to Heropa ended up being a mostly silent affair. A silent affair wherein he read this supposed new power over, and over, and over again, uncertain if the words on his file were meant to be a joke or if he was simply hallucinating them. Only one way to find out, he supposed. He asked to be let out a few blocks from their home, left the file behind, and looked out at the dark neighborhood. More steady now, seeing reality up close and personal.

Of course it doesn't work on the first try. Never does. Or the second, apparently. He starts heading home regardless, a growing sense of joke's on you again Will Graham roiling about his gut. With that comes a real disquiet, growling, hunger. A week in who knew where did that, and it wasn't as though he'd been plucked away after a protein-packed breakfast. Hunger and an odd bit of shame, shouldn't he be able to do this? It's basically the only power he'd ever really dreamed of growing up. Maybe if he thinks of a specific dog, maybe if he ignores the fact he feels like he could eat a full grown elephant, maybe if he stops mentally kicking himself for being so naive to believe, so unable to make it happen...

Four legs good, two legs bad. He knows these paws. He knows this fur. Now how to make good with four legs?

The walk home takes longer than expected, because once Will figures out his new anatomy and gets used to the idea that he's naked except for fur, he can't help but get distracted. Running is great! Wagging a tail is great! The draft between all four legs is fantastic in the humidity! Real freedom, imagine that. A stray cat to chase? On it.

What should have taken fifteen minutes takes about an hour, and then Will's traipsing up to his house, still in the furry format, tail wagging...until he realizes he's not sure how to reverse this. He stares at Sharkbait's snoozing face through the window and loneliness hits. But not for long, because this is his house. Those are his people inside. He can't imagine April, no matter how displeased she may be, would turn away any scruffy mutt coming to her in good faith. He can't just up and ring the doorbell with his snout, though, can he? Maybe he can catch a passing raccoon and get the message across. Yes. Perfect. The scruffy mutt stares into the front window with such a sad face and drooping tail until one of the fuzzy bunch takes note.

It's the strangest staring contest he's had with a raccoon since he's ever been in Heropa. He can't speak. He can't make faces. All he can do is appear totally forlorn and in need of shelter and look at the door and hope the message is heard. Hope the horde is merciful. Hope when the little follower of April Ludgate goes bounding out of frame, it's to the door...and then run in like a bat out of hell when said door does crack open.

He's forgotten one very important thing, however. His paws are muddy. His tail is full of dirt and grime from the outside. He's all but rolled in shit, so he's a filthy new addition to the house. The first and best thing that needs to be done is a good bath courtesy those sneaky paws.

He's cooperative and calm, but he swears Eduardo knows exactly who he is and that's why he's taking the lead on this one.

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What's worse than seeing April in any sort of pain? Seeing her in any sort of pain when he's right there but unable to do anything about it because she doesn't know he's there. A terrible feeling, that. It must be some special section of hell. Once dried and cleaned and understanding just how awful this is when no one knows about new powers, he can't stomach the idea of sleeping next to her, or even near their bed, like this. It's simply too much. Defeated and somewhat exhausted, Will carefully plays nice with the Luggage so he can spend the night in Rincewind's room. There's something quite safe about it, he feels, curling up under the wizard's desk with tail damn near stuffed into his nose. Is that glitter in his fur? Christ. No wonder April liked Rincewind. Any day now he'd end up with a horde of raccoons trying to share his bed and he'd have only his glitter-loving self to blame.

The spot is cool, quiet, and just big enough for him to comfortably fit. Which means hours later, when Will's no longer Winston, he doesn't fit at all. So he wakes up because there's a damn hard wooden corner stabbing his skull, and his limbs are all out of place, and it's really uncomfortable. Only after he makes a low, pained noise and starts to move out from under the desk does he realize that he's naked. He was a dog. Now he's not. Now he's himself. Now he's in his birthday suit halfway tangled underneath Rincewind's desk and he's torn between just quietly sneaking out, but can he? With the Luggage around, is that even possible? Worth a try, right? Except for the fact he's got to move the chair out of the way, and of course it squeaks and creaks like it's forty years older than it really is the one time anyone needs it to just move quietly and quickly.

Excuse him. He's going to give up on the quiet sneak away tactic and just cover himself with one leg as he looks from the Luggage to Rincewind with the utmost of human puppy dog faces. Less "I'm caught" and more "I'm sorry about me." Rincewind's definitely getting a discounted rent this month.

Despite some improvements to Rincewind's life regarding stability of home and concerted efforts to aid his insomnia, the wizard remains something of a light sleeper. Nothing forms a habit quite as well as too many times spent waking up to sharp objects held against his person, and so it isn't unheard of for him to wake up several times in the night to someone going to the bathroom, or the scurry of raccoon paws, or Jeff getting a night cap. He often wakes with a start, screams softly, looks around, and then generally gets back to sleep. The Luggage is so use to this process that it rarely bothers to climb down off its wardrobe.

Of course, it isn't often that either man or box wake to the shadowy sight of a naked man in the room.

What happens next happens quickly. Rincewind screams properly - gets a real good lungful of air in his lungs, really works that diaphragm - and startles so quickly out of his bed that his limbs catch in the sheets and he goes down in a hard sprawl of blanket and pajamaed redhead on the wooden floor. The Luggage, sensing something is Different, leaps down off the wardrobe with a house-shuddering thud and menaces towards the threat in its master's room. It's the first to notice that the strange, nude assailant, while both nude and behaving strangely, isn't actually an assailant. Or a stranger, for that matter.

It takes Rincewind a moment longer, which isn't terribly surprising.

When he pops up, it's with his lamp (still plugged into the wall) brandished like a weapon by someone unused to brandishing weapons, still half-tangled in his sheets like a madman in a toga, his nightcap hanging over one eye while the other stares Will down crazily.

"Right! Right, okay, you stay right where you are! Don't you come any closer or I'll - I'll bloody well thump you, you - you... y-you..."

The lamp lowers by short, slow degrees. Rincewind risks an awkward, flickered glance from Will's face, to the leg covering the, uh, rest of Will, and then back up to the face again.

He looks at a loss.

"...W-Will?"

This house has seen it's fair share of those who screamed in the night. Abigail had terrors. If Grey could have screamed, he's sure there would have been one from his room a time or two, the state of his world taken into account. Will was more inclined to other unhappy methods upon waking, but he'd had powerful nightmares before that left him bolting upright with mouth wide open.

Now, though, Will is more of the desire to remain calm and quiet. To defuse. So Luggage makes an appearance and one hand goes up in surrender. Look, he's naked and decidedly not where he's supposed to be, the last thing he wants is to cause fuss or fight. A hand that moves when Rincewind stands his ground like a true Floridian, looking absolutely ridiculous and brandishing a do-it-yourself weapon. He doesn't think Rincewind would start an all out assault, but he could be wrong. Best to appear as passive as possible just in case this is the straw that breaks the wizard's back.

Rincewind isn't the only one looking at a loss in this room. Will finally puts his hand down. Sort of. He runs it through his hair first, relieved he's not being lamp-basted. If there's a cushion on that desk chair he is totally tempted to grab it for decency's sake but, no. That. No. Probably not a good idea. He'll just be glad it's dark and they're both fellas so it's nothing too shocking. Still, he's oddly sitting in the way that suggests yes he knows he's naked he can't help it he's just trying to position himself in the least brazen way possible.

"That's me." Said to Luggage; gotta appease the real enforcer first. But then he looks to Rincewind, to the lamp, and: "Didn't mean to. Wake you. You can put that down."

Please put that down.

Please.

Also maybe toss him a top sheet.

"Um. You - haven't got any clothes."

Does he realize that? He must realize that. Pretty obvious. What with the the... nakedness. In his room. Right, that's important too. Will is in his room. Naked. Naked, but also - in his room. Where he sleeps. Usually alone. Without Will. Who was here, this time. With Rincewind. Without his clothing.

Why.

"What... exactly was it you were intending to do?" That seems important to ask, since waking Rincewind apparently wasn't on the agenda. He notes Will is staring at something, and follows his housemate's gaze to his own hand, still wrapped around the now-flickering bedside lamp. Ah. The wizard lowers it by degrees before finally (and somewhat reluctantly) placing it back on the table. He liked having it in his hands. He's not sure what to do with them now.

He folds them uncomfortably over his chest. Thoughts of top sheets unfortunately never enter the wizard's somewhat still-frazzled mind.

"Also - and correct me if I'm wrong - but. You've been gone this week, haven't you?" It had taken a great deal of effort on Rincewind's part not to jump the gun and start husband-searching for April once he found out. He knew there was a general rule, that he'd have to wait at least two weeks before letting his worries become actions, but Rincewind had been ready. Names and numbers were taken; questions penned for interviews. "No one knew where you were."

He squints.

"Is... is that what this is? Did the Porter bring you back to my room naked?" At this point, he'd relish the simple, if odd explanation.

The Luggage, forever more useful than its master, steps in where Rincewind doesn't and opens its lid to present an array of the wizard's clothing to Will. They're all clean, but the choices presented all seem to range from 'possibly dragged behind a pickup truck for several miles' to 'stolen from a Scandinavian figure skater'. Pick your probably-a-size-too-small poison, Will.

Edited 2016-07-19 05:28 (UTC)

He does realize that. He very much does, Rincewind needn't point that fact out for Will's legs to remain awkwardly shut as he scoots to a sit. It's all very much done with some sense of decency in mind, despite the situation leaving him absolutely nude. As Rincewind speaks, Will glances around the room as though a magical quilt will just suddenly appear within grabbing distance. He seems quite scattered, but hopefully Rincewind knows by now Will can be a distracted naked mess and still hear every word directed at him.

Finally! Salvation. It's not the offerings Luggage gives him but Luggage itself. He can move about with a barrier between he and Rincewind and not have to clench his ass cheeks like he's ready to kiss this world goodbye. Will eagerly begins to peruse and take advantage of the Luggage-shaped censorship bar, and after a few moments wherein he pulls about a very intense array of wardrobe, he leans forward to whisper for the Luggage and Luggage only: Do you have a regular towel?

No offense meant to Rincewind, naturally.

"Not quite. Sometimes, when the Porter takes you, you return a little differently than you were before." His eyes are trained on the Luggage. Not out of shame, he's just. Hopeful. Please Turtle God do not give him a blood or innards stained towel (he deserves it though). "Your powers change. Get mixed around. New ones. Better versions of the old ones. That sort of thing."

He looks back up at Rincewind.

"There was a new dog in the house tonight. He came and went to sleep in your room. It seemed the. Safest space to do so. I didn't want to be near April without her knowing it was me. Just...not something I could stomach." He didn't want to see her loss of him and be right there but unable to do anything for her to know that. Too much, far too much to handle. "Guess going to sleep makes me change back. M'sure I'll figure out how to do it on my own in the future. This won't happen again."

Does the Luggage have a towel, pfft. The Luggage manages the best scoff an utterly silent piece of animate furniture can muster before snapping its lid closed. When the gold hinges creak open again, inside lies a neatly-folded and pleasantly-floral arrangement of linens of various shapes and sizes.

It's possible one or two have hotel logos lovingly stitched into their corners.

(It's even more possible one of those logos is the Castile's, kept as a token of appreciation for a recently-vanished vampire which will always have a place in its wooden heart, but that's a matter for another time. A time containing less nude Wills.)

Rincewind's fingers tap an uncertain rhythm against his arm. Will did leave then, and it was the Porter's fault. Always good to have confirmation that no deranged kidnappings or drunken benders took place. The man looks to be all in one piece as well (a conclusion he can draw based on a distressingly complete breadth of evidence), so hopefully nothing too terrible happened while he was away. Except for the nudity. Which is... his power now? The ability to be randomly naked?

- Oh, wait, no, Will can just turn into a literal dog. That's all.

"Hold on, hold on, you're a - a weredog?" The wizard casts Will an absolutely incredulous look, which he's still fighting to keep above the profiler's shoulders. For a moment, he has to second-guess whether that was a shadow he's seen behind Will's hips before they were blocked from view, or a tail.

He remembers the prompt, of course - he remembers letting a small whippet into his room before he went to bed because the thing looked like such a strange, sickly little horse of a dog, and Rincewind has a secret well of compassion for pathetic, helpless things. He remembers thinking nothing of watching it curl up under his desk before he dozed off.

Hard to equate that small canine with the fully-grown, fully-naked man standing before him. Rincewind sits down on his bed in a way that would be described as "heavily" if he actually had any mass to him. He rubs at his forehead.

"So you - you came back able to be a dog. Only you didn't know how to turn back. ...Well. All right then. You - couldn't use the communicators? That whole... gods, what is it called, that bit where you can speak words at it with your mind? You may want to try that next time, if you get in a jam again. Certainly a less, erm, drafty solution.

"...Are you happy about it? I mean - not this, but being able to be a dog now? You do like them."

The lilt in Rincewind's tone suggests he means "like" here in the same way it could be said drug addicts "like" enjoying their drug of choice.

Oh, thank God. He doesn't care about logos. He cares only for a towel he can wrap around his waist, void of blood or guts. So he picks the first one that matches a good length and width, nods appreciatively toward the Luggage, and makes quick work of slinging it about him like he's the only one at home and the doorbell won't stop ringing. Better answered soaking wet than not at all.

His focus here is decency. The scars of his chest and the smile carved into his belly are not covered up. He pays them no attention at all, just secures the (terribly comfortable) towel right below said smile without even thinking twice whether or not he should heft it up a bit. Situated at last, he laughs.

"I'll try that next time. See if it works." Send a few folks some poorly phrased dog speak, more like. He doesn't know that yet. But now he has a reason to see what's what. Bless the Wizzard. "It's only been a night but...so far so good."

Waking up naked in a housemate's room was good, yes. There were so many worse places to wake up, naked or otherwise.

"I'll get back to you on that later." A sheepish smile follows, handing running over the back of his neck. He looks to the door. Perhaps rude to bolt, but...April. April! "When I've got more data to go on."

Yeah. He loves it. But like any good addict he's more inclined to downplay his Problem than eagerly verbalize just how Bad he's got it. C'est la vie.

The scars are unfortunately difficult to ignore, now that Rincewind no longer has to avert his eyes for the sake of decency and sanity. His eyes keep flicking between the ragged marks and Will's ragged face guiltily. He'd heard, of course (Will himself had even joked about them, when they'd run into each other at the park), but hearing and seeing were two vastly separate senses. It's a fair guess that was intentional. But here Will's had any attempts at modesty yanked from him as quickly as someone could yank away his protective towel.

Horribly unfair. Rincewind knows something about that, the effort to show deference is at least sympathetic, if not quite successful.

"Well. Gosh. ...Probably the other dogs will enjoy it, at least. Maybe you'll even be able to get Sharkbait to behave. I've always felt he'd listen to another dog, if he was going to listen to anyone."

Although who knows, Sharkbait is a wild and unpredictable rebel.

While never the most adept at social cues, Rincewind is at least skilled at picking up on the desire to leave (if only because it's the one he most often displays himself). So the glance at the door and the shift of Will's weight has him waving a hand encouragingly, managing a small, frazzled smile.

"Oh, but you'll want to get to bed properly, I imagine. Don't hang about on my account." A pause, and he adds, generously, "You can keep the towel."

Edited 2016-08-17 00:39 (UTC)

A wild and unpredictable rebel, and the first time Will really smiles at Rincewind since the whole naked awakening. Maybe Rincewind has a point. There's only one way to find out, and now Will has more interest in being a dog around the house. Will Luggage attempt to show its dominance? That's something to look forward to, too. But he isn't looking forward to anything as much as seeing April again, and—

There it is, Rincewind being right on the money and Will displaying absolute fondness for it.

"Thanks." A tug on the side of the towel to make sure it stays in place, a nod at Luggage, and then Will's quick to make his way to the door. "See you tomorrow."

Sleep tight, don't let the dogmen under the desk bite.

He's torn. Sprint back to their room butt naked and run the risk of Jeff or a Jeff pal just happening across him, or cover up somehow. He can see it now, scarred and naked, letting out a "hey" and getting an "oh my God" in return and becoming the reddest dog in the world. So he opts for a bath towel slung around his waist like he's suddenly on honeymoon again, and in that doesn't really get to sprint. Because every animal in the house is suddenly giving him attention like he's been gone for months instead of a week. And when he spots Eduardo staring at him from an on high spot, he's got all the confirmation he needs. The old man of the house knew all along; they could stand to learn from his furry, dark-eyed wisdom.

After he's managed to detach the dogs and gain a raccoon rider on his shoulder does he make it to his destination. Fortunately the door isn't The Desk Chair Take 2, and the raccoon takes its cue to curl up with the rest in their room for whatever reunion is about to happen. One new presence is all it takes for the rest to wake up and put their paws to their faces like their favorite presumed dead Spanish soap opera character just walked on screen again. And in so little clothing, too! A true miracle.

He drops the towel as he lifts the sheets to slide into bed, one arm instinctively moving to wrap around her waist. After that, it's just a matter of getting Obnoxiously Close to her ear and murmuring, "Your hair looks amazing. What've you been using while I've been out?"

She starts at the sound of his voice- she's April 'nothing hurts me if I don't notice it' Ludgate-Graham. She doesn't have to be a light sleeper, so tends to go for the deep sleep only those from a world not filled with cannibals can afford. But the voice gets her, and her reaction is so fast Will gets an elbow in the stomach in her rush to roll over and welcome him back with a kiss. And hands clinging to his hair. And legs wrapping around his just-hit stomach and waist. Tightly.

She might be happy to see him. If Will uses his empathy powers hard enough, he just might be able to tell.

It is a historic day. For the first time, he's filled with a surge of gratitude for not eating out of the dumpster or the dog bowls as he'd been tempted. Because April kissing him calls for kissing in return, and horrible dumpster or dog breath is just not a really good show of how damn glad he is to have come back from...wherever. Limbo? Not important. He's here, now, that is important. Here, now, and getting a hairdo makeover. Giving April one, too, as he rolls to sit up, all ideas of decency be damned. Unfortunately, there's this thing called "air" and "needing to breathe" and that's what has him breaking away for a big gasp of it. Not too far away, of course not, just enough to breathe with one hand on her face.

"Missed you too." Thank God for empathy keying him into that very subtle feeling of hers.

"Asshole."

She says with a smile and a light nip to his bottom lip. Vanishing during sex (again) then just showing up in the bed? Not cool, bro.

"Any new wives?"

A nip he doesn't pull away from, eyebrows lifting in completely faked surprise. He knows the terrible circumstances behind his disappearance. He has every intention to make good on them before the day is over.

"Uhhhh." Drawn out, slow. Awkward? Not like it was that first time. "No, no. Didn't go home this time. Just wasn't here. How long's it been anyway?"

He would have tried to look at dates better, but the whole life as a dog thing was sort of distracting. Sort of.

"Week? Maybe. I have people to keep track of days for me."

Chief of staff and all. But whatever her title or the time they've been apart, she is more than happy to just press her nose into his neck and relax. Life is okay now. She doesn't have to worry about what kind of list the house Wizard had made for her new future mate.

"You're still in the doghouse."

One hand moves slowly up and down her back as he tries to think of what the hell could happen in a week. The answer he comes up with is a lot of crazy shit. If the imPorts didn't act a goat, someone else would. But she's here and in one piece. As is the house. That's important.

Oh. Well then. That is also important.

"Speaking of..." His hand continues its trail as he leans forward to get a little nose-to-neck himself. It's very very tempting to sniff her. He manages not to. Just this once. "...that new dog. You name him yet?"

"Nah. Hasn't done anything stupid enough yet."

April Ludgate, naming animals after she sees the worst of their personalities only. But she huffs a soft laugh against his neck before nipping at him. Of course he asks about dogs before 'who got murdered this week' or 'are will all Russians again'?

It's why she loved him.

"Got one in mind?"

If she keeps it up, talking's gonna become a thing of the past. At least this Important Talk isn't mired in blood and gore. There is that to keep him from shutting up because he's too busy doing other things with his mouth.

"Well..." Fingers at her back stop, tapping idly instead. He looks off, taking in a breath through clenched teeth. Nervous tension on display at its finest. "How about Will? Since."

He doesn't mean to insult, imply she can't put two and two together. Of course she can. It's just new to him, so new he hasn't had the chance to really say it out loud much. He has to say it out loud for himself more than anyone else.

"The dog. That's. I am the dog."

Talking is such an over breakfast thing. Once there's been a proper welcome back (and finishing what he left behind). A fact she's leaning towards...

Until Will reveals his dog themed Beatles lyric. April pulls back a little so she can look him in the face.

"You're the dog."

April pulls back and Will all but braces, uncertain of the reaction this could bring. It's a weird power. It's a personal one, too. He holds eye contact as he nods. Gotta face it head on!

"Yes." He swallows, sighs. "I didn't know how to reverse it, so I came home. Guess sleep does the trick." That laugh is too high-pitched, too breathy. "Woke up in Rincewind's room and...and we should probably cut his rent this month. Or just. Rent-free month. He didn't sign up for having us naked in his room in the middle of the night."

Rest assured, husband of hers. April laughs at that, pressing her forehead against his cheek as she basks in that mental image.

"Oh my god. We're totally doubling it. He got a free show. And he owes me one for sharing."

The laughing lasts a little longer than it in all rights should, settling down into soft giggles as she just lets the relief of Will being home, of being here not covered in blood or with any grand confessions about murder and mayhem, of only having by the way I uncontrollably turn into dogs then surprise naked as the update. It was amazing.

Is the laughter because she's married to a real dog now? Because Rincewind had quite the wake up call and just the mental image of that is hilarious? He's not quite sure just yet, but April's giggles are infectious and soon he joins in, grinning ear-to-ear. One hand has taken to fiddling with her hair and finally puts it all over one shoulder before lifting to her forehead and moving any left about her face away as he leans to get a good look. He just got back. He wants the full, clear picture. Can anyone blame him?

"Kinda ruthless, babe." But in a way he approves of. All's well that doesn't end with murder or abduction. "Anything happen on your end you wanna tell me about?"

"Eh, nothing you can't see on the network. If I'm supposed to keep notes for you, I'm gonna need more payment."

Like, say, the kind he still owes her from the port out. And then some. It's been a long, long week.

"But you can puppy slobber on me, babe. You know I don't care."

His hands drop, arms serving as a loose yet protective circle around her. Will nods along. Bites his bottom lip. Yes, he isn't giving enough payment for April to keep notes in his absence. She speaks only truth. He knows, he understands, he feels mild fake guilt over being so financially stingy. Truly she has suffered.

"How 'bout puppy slobber tomorrow?" Fingers idly pick at the hem of her night shirt, voice low. "Or sometime next week. I'm in, I'm kinda in an overwhelming amount of debt. Better start paying it off before the interest rate gets too high. Yeah?"

That's possibly not how debt works but Will does not give a single fuck about debt. He's more concerned with April.

"Finally. The welcome back party."

Because who cared about the world, really? There was just this house, her and him and the world they'd built. Everything else could rot just now. So long as this time wasn't interrupted.

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lonely little love dog that no one knows the name of

the wizard;

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the queen;

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