elfhame | Doggone it.

Doggone it.

It's the typical early Friday evening in the office - all the appointments have been seen to, the last of the current walk-ins left fifteen minutes ago, and it's just Anders and his receptionist left at the front.

"As soon as you're done with the paperwork from that one you can go," he says. They're a half-hour away from closing and from what he overheard between her and his intern, she's got a second date planned tonight. He... does not. Somewhat the opposite, really. A microwave lasagna and hanging out with his cat while watching Netflix in his apartment above the office are his exciting plans.

"Are you sure?" Lirene asks, but there's no real intent behind the question. She'd prefer to take off early and he can't blame her. Anders waves her out and she's gone in a few moments, leaving the office feeling large and lonely. There aren't even any boarders tonight.

"Oh well," he says to the empty waiting room before grabbing the broom and starting to clean up. There's work to be done and it's not going to do itself. Unfortunately.

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The first set of double doors swings open. Faintly, the sound of a hacking dog comes through as a man leads a mabari on a leash. The second set opens, and Nathaniel stops inside, hair a mess, looking rather stressed and frazzled. The dog hacks at the floor, not especially distressed, tail wagging and looking happy to be alive.

"Bone stuck in throat?" Nathaniel asks, looking wild-eyed at the...very pretty doctor in a white coat. Fortunately, unlike Anders' clientele, he is not an animal and can avoid leering.

Edited 2017-11-28 02:24 (UTC)

The man is handsome, nicely built, vaguely familiar in that 'might have passed him in the grocery store' sort of way, but Anders doesn't really have the time to focus on that.

"Of course," he says, putting the broom down quickly. The dog doesn't look upset, which is promising. "Take a seat on the ground and hold him to your chest? Arms around him, just to hold him steady." Anders grabs a pair of gloves from the receptionist's desk and comes over. "I'll need to reach in and he'll find comfort in having your arms there."

Ordinarily, mabari know how to behave themselves. Ordinarily, they would listen to instruction from a veterinarian. Nathaniel has to wrap his arms around the thing's neck in order to still him. The dog is not malicious, just poorly behaved and incredibly spoiled. Nathaniel looks slightly uncomfortable around the dog, a mild flinch as if he is uneasy with the beast.

"I'm really sorry about this," he says quietly. "Looks like you were about to close up."

"I'm still open, and I'm here just for this," Anders says, equally quietly. The mabari needs to feel calm.

He's gentle as he opens the mabari's mouth, tugging lightly on his tongue just in case the bone's right there. Apparently not, it's a little further in.

"You're being very good, a very good boy." There it is. He can feel the bone and he's careful as he gets it free and pulls it out. Nothing seems to have caught, and he's not seeing any signs of distress. "And there we are. Maybe next time we won't be so curious about the scraps, hm?"

Despite slobber on his arm, Anders is smiling. It's nice when things are easy to fix. "He should be fine... but if you'd like, he can stay here for observation overnight. I live in the flat above here and check on any boarders often." And it means the man who seems a little nervous with the dog will be able to breathe and relax.

As Nathaniel watches, as the dog relaxes, so does he. There is something very soothing about this man, though he supposes that's one reason he has the job. Pretty and reassuring. And in no time, the bone is out, and the stupid dog's tail is thumping the floor. And weirdly, Nathaniel wishes it took longer. More time to admire the fall of hair, the line of throat, the long, strong hands.

He almost says no to the offer, but it occurs to him that saying yes would give him the chance to see the man again.

"Yes," he says without thinking further, then cringes a little. "This is going to sound really weird, but could I get you to write a note saying it's recommended? It's for my father, see, it's his dog and his credit card I'm giving you."

Oddly enough, it's a little comforting to know that the mabari doesn't belong to this man. The dog isn't well-trained, and there's none of the usual bond there, and he wanted to think that this handsome man was better than that.

"Of course, one moment," he says. The gloves get yanked off before he's going through the door that separates the waiting room for the reception area. He tosses them in the bin back there and finds his official notepad, glancing through the window at the guy. Anders could stay back here and be professional. But there's nothing wrong with a little flirting when it's not in the way of any other work. He returns pretty quickly and gestures at one of the chairs, taking the one right next to it.

"What's the dog's name and your father's name?" He looks up from the notepad. "And yours. Seeing as you're likely to pick him up." Should he ask for a contact number? That wouldn't be too forward. "A contact number would be useful too, in case something tore internally and he's not showing signs."

Please let him get this man's number.

"Dog's name is General, the owner is--" Nathaniel hesitates, and decides he doesn't want that conversation yet. "You know, just put me down. Nathaniel Howe."

He rattles off his number, not at all thinking about the flirting now, distracted by thinking ahead to the latest possible moment Ser Rendon Howe might enter the conversation. Picking him up? Sudden emergency and terrible news? First date? Deathbed?

"Nathaniel," he says as he writes everything down, enjoying the way the name feels on his tongue. General is a pretty lame name, but again, it thankfully doesn't count against the man in front of him.

...Though Howe might. No. One of those Howes wouldn't be here, in his little vet clinic. They'd be at some fancy one with 24-hour staff and special rooms with spas for the animals. Finishing up with the note, Anders looks up to find Nathaniel looking quite distracted. Damn. He'd love to be forward here, really forward, but this is his place of business and he needs to at least try to be a little professional. So instead of placing his hand and the note in Nathaniel's, Anders holds out the piece of paper.

"I'm glad to help, Nathaniel. I'm Dr. Anders and I run this clinic, so I can assure you that General will be treated well." After a moment, he pulls a business card out of his coat's front pocket and writes on it before holding it out. "The clinic's number is on the front, but now my number's on the back if you need to call outside business hours."

There's no last name on the business card. He technically has one, but Kinloch was given to him by the state after he'd been left in a baby box outside a fire station in the city of Kinloch Hold. It's never meant anything to him, and none of his foster families had seen fit to share their own.

Nathaniel sees that. Part of him really knows Anders is only being polite, but for a moment, he entertains the idea that Anders is giving him his number for real. For traditional reasons. There's a wan smile on Nathaniel's face as he tucks the papers away.

"Do you need payment now?" he asks, realizing his father's name is on the credit card, which would put an end to the feeling of being taken on his own terms.

No bite, yet. But Anders had landed plenty of people before when he's put his mind to it, and he's starting to think he wants to put his mind to this one while not entirely demolishing his ethics. Nathaniel's interesting. Reserved a little, maybe shy? It's been some time since Anders has met a genuinely shy adult.

"Mm," he says, eyes on Nathaniel's. "I think you're good for it. Besides." His smile turns a little mischievous. "I've your number now, so I know how to reach you. And I'll have his dog. I'm not worried, because I know you'll be back."

He stands, stretching a little and pretending not to watch Nathaniel as he does so. "Would you like to walk him to the back with me? So you can be sure he'll be comfortable."

Okay that is definitely a man who is hitting on him. Nathaniel tries to shove aside that voice telling him Anders will take it all back when he learns who he is, and frankly, taking advantage of it now while he is ignorant doesn't seem especially cool.

"I..." Nathaniel has to stop talking to watch that little stretch. He's not just being hit on, he's being seduced. Wow. "I'll...actually be fine with you taking him back yourself, but I'll see you tomorrow, certainly."

Maybe leaving a tiny opening will allow this, whatever it is, a little air to breathe.

Damn. He'd pushed a little too hard. Oh well. He guesses he'll see tomorrow if it was too-too hard if the man shows up and asks for him or tries to just get the dog and leave. He'll hope for the former. In the meantime, Anders nods and takes General's leash before giving Nathaniel a far more mild smile.

"Of course. Have a good evening, and he'll be in good hands." He'll wait for the man to leave before locking up, leading the dog back to the rather comfortable little room, and heading upstairs for the taste of disappointment - microwaved cheap pizza. At least his cat is warm.

The night passes without incident, thankfully, though he does check on General several times. The poor dog seems almost desperate for affection and Anders has to wonder about Nathaniel's father a little. Who pays out for what's clearly a purebred mabari and then doesn't put the work in? The father of a man who is a little more shy than Anders anticipated, apparently.

When day comes, the office is fairly busy but that doesn't keep Anders from watching for Nathaniel, just in case.

Nathaniel turns up toward the end of the day, hoping it will be similarly vacated as it was yesterday. He is not disappointed, and steps inside looking for Anders. He sees him and gives him a relieved smile.

"I'm glad it's you," he says, one half of a thought finished only in his head.

He'd been starting to wonder if he'd seriously pushed too hard when Nathaniel walks in. The comment puts a smile on his face even before he's working out what it might mean. Not uninterested, probably far more shy than Anders had anticipated. ...That might mean this man can still blush and isn't that a pretty thought. But he needs to go a little bit slower than normal.

"And I'm glad to see you," he says back, deliberately giving Nathaniel a look-over. It's not slow, but it's not too quick - he wants the man to know the door's still open despite the hasty departure last night without pressuring. "Not that I want to be rid of General, but there seems to be no damage. He's... a little overweight for a mabari. You may want to speak to your father about working with him more, as I'm assuming it's your father he's bonded with?"

As he talks he's grabbing the file and setting it on the counter before also grabbing a pen... and holding that out rather than setting it down. It'd be easy to take the pen without touching his hand, and it would be equally easy to take the pan and his hand. He'd like to not scare the man away this time.

"Erm." An awkward question. The dog has not bonded with anyone, to Rendon Howe's chagrin. And regardless, Howe will never be the one who exercises a dog. "Yes," he decides on for simplicity's sake.

Far too afraid of seeming creepy, he hesitates about the pen, but Anders has given him clear signals. Nathaniel takes the pen, his fingertips gliding over Anders' palm before he hesitates again, unsure what to do, waiting for a response. His skin feels hot.

The touch is nice and Anders is certain the man's interested now.

"Here," he says, taking Nathaniel's hand and guiding it down to the bottom of the form. His fingers linger on the back of Nate's hand after he releases it.

"It's the invoice, a night's stay, food and water, and my time." The price is a bit lower than anywhere else would charge, and not just because it's a low-cost clinic. He's deliberately giving Nathaniel a discount. "Just fill out the billing information, I'll run the card, and you can take General home."

A beat, and then he looks up at Nathaniel through his eyelashes. "And then, if you'd like, you can come back, and we can go to dinner."

Nathaniel's smile broadens, then wanes just a little.

"I'd like that. You...may not want to." He slides over his father's credit card, visibly wincing.

He takes the card, paying more attention to Nathaniel's face than what he's doing with it.

"I think I've made fairly clear that I want..." His eye catches the name and he comes to a mental halt. The man is one of those Howes. The Arl has done pretty horrific things to the foster care system, cutting funding, cutting supervision, and Anders has dealt with some of those changes first-hand. He'd never really had hope of a forever home or forever family, but the added hoops and complications had dashed that for so many.

Anders regrets giving a discount, now. This man isn't Rendon, but to the best of his knowledge none of the Howe clan have expressed any sort of dissatisfaction with what their patriarch has been doing. The smile is gone by the time the card's cleared, his hand taken back.

"You might be right there. I've already been screwed by one member of your family and I typically don't go for relatives." He sets the card on the counter. "I'll get his dog."

The way he says 'his' makes it fairly clear who he feels screwed by. He's disappointed, and not just by the man in front of him. It would have been so nice... but he can't ignore the issues the Arl causes. Anders heads to the backroom and brings General to the waiting room, offering the leash.

"It'd be something else if one of you lot spoke out against him, but you don't. And as I can't for the life of me figure out if it's fear of him or if you've the same belief in crushing and using the smaller people in this community, I can't see dinner happening." And yet, even as he judges this man, he wants to give him a chance. Family had always seemed like such a nice thing to have, nice enough that people would be terrified to lose it.

"If somehow it's the former and not at all the latter, there's a protest in a week at the large fountain on the university campus. I'll be there; his recent tax changes make it exceedingly hard to run a low-cost veterinary clinic for those who can't afford the fancy ones. Seven p.m., Friday night." There. His duty is done.

That...sounds about right. Anders vanishes as quickly as Nathaniel had thought. Not good enough for either side, as it turns out, and Nathaniel feels like his whole body has become this aching vacuum. Another person, someone on the outside would be some way of escaping this wretched family, and yet...

Anders returns. And speaks to him. And appears to be giving him the benefit of the doubt. A protest? Nathaniel can imagine how quickly his father would denounce and disown him, and Thomas would be the next arl, following directly in their father's footsteps. Nathaniel has known for a long time that speaking out publicly would do not good for the cause. But here is someone on the inside of the cause, who has some idea of what actual changes he and his stand for.

"Give me a moment," he says suddenly, having half an idea and trying to find where the other half is. And there it is. "You...might not want to turn down dinner yet. Not a date," he rushes in to say, "just...you talking, and me listening. Maybe answering your questions, if you want that."

He hesitates. It's hard to hope that someone will listen, but he wants to and it's not just because Nathaniel is attractive. After a few seconds, Anders exhales and nods. Maybe this could lead to a change, somehow.

"All right," he says. "Come back, and we'll go eat and talk. But I'm not going to be doing all the talking, because if I'm going to be spending time with you I need to know where you stand too."

This wince isn't the sort of wince you get when someone lands a blow, but the sort of wince you get when someone took off their smelly shoes and you want them to put them somewhere else and wear a pare of fucking socks.

"I'm not baiting you, Anders," he says quietly, "I'm giving us both a chance at something. Yours aren't the first people my father conquered."

And with that, he departs out the door.

He waits anxiously, cleaning a little, pacing a little. While cruelty wasn't his intention, Anders can't deny there's a part of him that's still pretty hurt with how a lot of things have gone in his life, and he knows some parts can be laid at Howe feet. But not all. If he wants Nathaniel to hear him, he needs to hear the man as well.

By the time Nathaniel returns, Anders is in jeans and a close-fitting t-shirt with a cat on it rather than still being in scrubs and a lab coat. Locking up the clinic, Anders jerks his head up the street.

"We can walk. There are a few places in walking distance, a decent pizza place, a good Thai joint, and a Mexican place that will burn your nose hairs off while adding hair to your chest." Despite how things have changed in the last hour or so, he glances at Nate's chest as he speaks.

"All of them sound good." Nathaniel doesn't notice the chest-glancing. He spent the last half-hour walking and thinking about what he wants out of this not-date now, and he's come to it at last. He is still somewhat timid, definitely uncertain, but he knows what he needs to happen. "Which one's the least crowded?"

There's a distance there now. It's probably for the best, really. He shouldn't still be thinking about the attractiveness of the man next to him when they've got serious matters to unpack. But man, it had been so long since someone handsome and single had walked in his doors and he'd wanted to be selfish so very much.

"Right now? The Thai place." The other two are cheaper and thus populated by college students. Anders isn't struggling right now the way he does in February and March, so he can afford some noodles and spring rolls.

Anders leads the way, even holding open the door for Nathaniel. He'd asked the guy on the date initially, after all. Even if he doesn't know how or where this is going to go.

"After you."

Nathaniel feels a little guilty any time someone does some thoughtless gesture for him like this, and he looks it as he walks in. They get a table and Nathaniel orders a bottle of wine.

"It's all my treat, if you don't mind," he explains to Anders. The man works at a low-cost clinic. He should at least be able to get a good meal out of this. "Order what you like."

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Doggone it.

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