Chapter Text
Leaf green eyes. Freckled long nose. Dirty blonde fur. These are the exact same features you woke up to every morning. He's your bestest friend who licked tears off your pink cheeks when you cried. Stubby arms and paws wrapped around your torso, snuggling into you every night whenever you felt lonely. He could read you better than any human could. He even cleaned up your mess off the floor every time you spilt chips off the counter. Dean.
You'd known Dean's mother, Mary, since you were in highschool. Mary belonged to a close neighbor of yours, Ellen. Ten minute walks were worth visiting Mary, and when you found out the yellow lab got pregnant, there wasn't a doubt in your mind you were adopting one of them.
"It's a boy," Ellen told you with a smile. She gave you your new and currently whimpering puppy and you took him with open arms and a smile so wide your cheeks hurt. "What are you gonna name 'em, sweetie?"
You pursed your lips and looked off to the sky, pondering what name would fit. How about... Dean. James Dean. No, no, just Dean. "Dean! His name is Dean." You decided.
Four years later, Dean is still by your side. A big grown boy. Same green doe eyes, same long freckled nose and dirty blonde fur. But what you never expected was seeing those features in human form. In your bed. Right in front of your face, just like Dean does every morning, licking your face and neck and shoulders while wimpering "Owner, owner, owner!" in a somewhat masculine high-pitched voice.
A soft hum vibrates out of your throat as the flame continues licking you. You have no idea what kind of dream you're having, or what feels so good, but after a couple of minutes and a little "Steve! Stop it," and a giggle, you finally peeled an eye open curiously to see a man.
"What the hell?!" You yelped as you shoved your blanky forward as if it were to scare him off. His hurt expression sure did look like you scared him off, but despite his six-foot-something height, and somewhat lean body, he still had the face expressions of a teddy bear. Same beautiful eyes as Dean. Same freckled long nose. It's almost as if he is the human version of your dog.
"I-I-I thought you loved me," His eyes prickled and shined with tears that were waiting to be shed as his voice broke at the last word of his sentence. "am I not good enough for you anymore?"
Okay, what the hell. If things were already weird, they just got weirder. He headbutted your upper arm and wrapped his entire body, all of his limbs snaked around your waist and had a firm grip too. To say you were confused and uncomftorble was a slight, no, HUGE understatement. Especially when five seconds after his meltdown, his tears withdrawled and he sprang up off the bed on two feet, a huge (and, well, beautiful) smile spread across his cheeks and asked if he could go outside and when breakfast was going to be served. "Can I go pee? I need to go outside. I really really have to go. Oh! and when are we making breakfast? I'm starved!" And with all the suddeness of this man, this man breaking into your home, asking you if he can go to the fucking bathroom outside, acting like a dog, you screamed in horror. Who is he?
You took a deep breath as you hit the 'Call' button on the contact you thought would be the only person who'd understand. The man was still in your house, just feet away from you sitting on a chair eating chicken wings you'd heated up for him after you showed him your bathroom. He looked confused when you did, which led to a brief teaching lesson on what a bathroom is and its used for.
"So..... Why did you bring me here?"
"You said you needed to go pee." You gave him a look.
"Aww, man. You're gonna give me a bath, aren't you? Dang it." His last words were more to himself than to you and he hung his head low with his arms crossed to his chest.
"Okay, I don't know who you are, or why you're in my house, or why you look at me weird when I tell you use the bathroom in the toilet like a normal human being," your voice was raising almost uncontrollably, your mother coming out in you. "but you're lucky I'm letting you stay since you claim you have no where else to go and you've lived here all your damn life!"
The stranger looked down shamefully at the tile flooring and then marched over to the toilet that was sitting in the far right corner of your bathroom and dropped his pants and underwear down in one shove, squatted down and didn't even wait for you to leave the room for him to start pissing in the toilet. You shut your eyes instinctively with the palms of your hands then slammed the door shut behind you.
"Weirdo didn't even wait for me to leave," you mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head as you paced to the kitchen for breakfast. This must've been the weirdest morning you've had in your 22 years.
"Hello?" The voice you've been dying to here for the past two unanswered calls greeted. A sigh of nothing but relief left your chapped lips.
"Hey, Cam, oh thank God you answered. I need your help. And you. Here. My place, now." Eyes traveled to the Zack Morris sitting in your kitchen, digging in and not holding back, he met your eyes and gave you a cheeky smile while a mouthful of food was still being chewed. With a little wave of the hand that wasn't holding your cell to your ear and a forced smile, you turned away so he couldn't hear what you were going to talk about.
"Whatever it is, it can wait. I'm at work. You know that."
"I know, I know. Hear me out, please, I can't babysit this Abercrombie model on my own!" Your voice was a loud whisper now, you couldn't take any of this. You needed Cameron.
"Ooo, model, you say? Describe for me."
Lump bottled up in your throat now swallowed, you eyed him up and down once or twice and took a few strides to the left to observe his body, and god damn, he really belonged in magazines. Not in your house. He still was sitting there, making a big mess of himself, so big you actually gave him a fucking BIB so he wouldn't ruin his clothes. Plump pinkish-reddish lips were now covered in sauce, and his mouth was not closed while he chewed. How did he eat like this and still look cute?
"He's uh, tall."
"I'm on my way."
You picked up your toothbrush and your mint toothpaste and flicked the cap off with a thwack, squeezing just the right amount of gooey paste on the tip of your brush, wet it from the tap of the sink, and started thinking.
The man claims to be called Dean, just like your Dean, dog Dean. He did have the same beautiful eyes. And hair, except not all over his body, but on his head. Same appetite. But it couldn't be.
It wasn't possible.
Your Dean, the dog, of course, was in the toy room in his kennel for throwing up on the floor that took you longer to clean up than you'd admit. You thought about getting him outta there and feeding him something that wouldn't make him so sick.
You spit the leftovers of toothpaste out into the sink, ran the water and watched it down as well as gargaling, when you heard the door to your bathroom creek open. Oh, God, no. This is where you draw the line.
Stealthly, your hands flew to your towel that was drying your hair for you and took it out to cover your exposed skin.
Sure enough, there was 'Dean' standing in the doorway when you turned around if the coast was clear, but clear as day, you knew he'd seen you.
"Dean. What do you think you're doing." It came out more like a statement than a question.
"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Owner. I just wanted to apologize for how I've been acting lately. I mean, for puking up that bacon you'd made for me, for getting in the trash. I'm acting like a puppy. I know it's unacceptable."
Hearing this made you scoff while you finished wrapping the towel securely around your body and flipped your semi-damp hair to the side.
"Puppy?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I know I just turned 4, and that's not how a 4 year old should act. I'll be a big boy. A good boy." Dean's facial expressions turned from shameful to proud when he got to the last part. Playing along until Cameron gets here shouldn't be the end of the world.
You chuckled. "Uh, okay Dean. You're gonna be a good boy for me?"
He nodded quite enthusiastically. What the hell were you doing.
"Alright. Good, G-good boy, Dean. Very good." Your hand awkwardly patted his head and oddly enough, Dean really fucking enjoyed it. He leaned into your palm with a heavenly smile while his eyes fluttered gently closed.
"I'm just gonna, uh," Pointing over to the doorway and began heading out, you felt large controlled hands stop you by your stomach, and soon enough, kisses were being planted on your upper back and shoulders, and two hands were on your stomach, slowly trailing up and oh my god you were not going to be felt up by a man who claims to be your dog.
"Okay, okay, OKAY," Shoving him away slightly, you stepped out of his reach and walked backwards, facing his confused profile and practically moonwalked out of there before he could do anything else.
When three knocks come to your door, Dean starts acting up. And of course, the dog boy thinks it's funny to start yelling.
"Hey! You! You! UGH." Dean yells over and over, looking through the peephole of the front door to find your best friend. "Oh, hey! Cameron! Owner, Owner! It's our friend!" He exclaimed before he got shoved out of the doorway by your arm to open and let Cam in.
After a night of Cameron teaching Dean human things like oragami, cooking, and even asking Dean trick questions that are about you, and Dean answering without hesitation or thought. Maybe that's all the convincing it took for you to guess he's either a stalker or maybe....
He's telling the truth.
"I know that your favorite color is green. Like my eyes. Oh! And when you were in bed with that guy and that girl, the guy asked you to call him..... Your father? Which doesn't make any sense but it was something like tha-"
"OKAY! Dean, enough!" You interrupted, rubbing your temples with your fingers.
Dean tensed and his face fell. "Well, I just- I just want you to believe me, Owner, I want us to be together again. I want you to love me again. It's been so long since we've cuddled, and you held me. I want you again. Please believe me." He whispered the last sentence, and you noticed he had gotten so close you wondered if Cameron had yet to teach him personal space. His head dropped to your shoulder, and he sniffed and kissed you like a dog.
"Dean," you test, licking your lips and gently lifting his head off your shoulder.
"Yes, Owner?"
"I need you to stop calling me that." You smile.
"Okay, Owner. Anything you want." You roll your eyes. Dammit Dean.
"You need a shower." You comment, smelling his sweaty wet-dog self.
"All by myself?" Dean's cartoon eyes widen. He visibly tenses on his hold on you, and you tighten your lips together to keep from laughing at how panicked Dean got just from something as simple as a shower.
"I'm, I'm use to you bathing me, but - but I can't do it by myself. You have to help me. Please?" Real puppy dog eyes were staring right into you, just begging and begging. You sighed, and grumbled something along the lines of "take off your clothes" and grabbed a towel from the closet. A cheeky looking Dean then grinned, satisfied with his doggy-charm of getting you to stay with him.