Chapter Text
Ever since Mark developed an uncomfortable pain in his knee, he decided to walk to and from work. The jokes about him getting old stopped being funny and became a real concern when he noticed that he was getting lazier by the day.
As the years passed, his muscles became less firm and his disposition was no longer the same as before. He feared growing old and becoming the kind of owner who just watched his dogs play, without the energy to keep up with them.
It was a silly thought, perhaps.
His husband, Fernando, loved to play on this concern. He always made a point of showing off his 'youth' and good health, stretching his arms and stretching his body in an exaggerated way while saying with a smug smile: 'A few years make all the difference, cariño. You should have followed my example and never stopped exercising for real.'
Mark just rolled his eyes, knowing that Fernando was just saying that to provoke him. But deep down, he had a point. That's why the Australian made an effort to at least maintain this simple habit of walking. And he doesn't work too far from home, which is a privilege.
He walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, feeling the cold night wind blow through the city. Work hadn't been as exhausting as other days, but his mind was still stuck on small worries.
When Mark stopped to look around before crossing the street, he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. He was sure that when he got home and was greeted at the door by his two labradors, he would smell the delicious smell of dinner cooking. But a slight twinge of headache told him he couldn’t wait that long.
He takes a quick break at a small diner he always sees along the way, then buys a sandwich, something practical to settle his stomach for the rest of the way.
As he took his first few bites, he heard a faint, almost imperceptible sound coming from a nearby alley. Mark stopped walking and stood still so he could listen again. For a moment he thought he might have imagined it, but the sound repeated itself and it didn't take long for the man to realize it was a meow.
The meow came again, timid and hesitant. It was only because he paid attention that he was able to identify the source: next to an old trash can, leaning against the worn brick wall, a small orange cat was watching him.
He was thin, with dirty orange fur, and his eyes, large and golden, seemed to be silently pleading.
Mark's heart sank when he saw him. It was hard to ignore that look, full of an innocence that also carried a silent but not invisible pain.
For a moment, he wondered how many people had walked past the cat without even noticing. Mark felt guilty that he had almost been one of those people.
He approached slowly, crouching down so as not to scare him. The cat meowed again, this time a little louder, as if it had understood that the man was not a threat.
Mark looked at the sandwich in his hands and sighed.
“I was hungry too. Let’s share, okay?”
He broke the sandwich in half, handing a piece to the kitten.
The cat hesitated for a second, perhaps suspicious, but the smell of food overcame his caution. He lunged forward, devouring the piece of sandwich with a voracity that made Mark wonder how long it had been since he had eaten something decent.
As the cat ate, the Australian reached out slowly to pet it. The animal stopped eating for a moment, looking at him with alert eyes, but then relaxed and began to purr softly. It rubbed its head against Mark's hand, thanking him in the only way it knew how.
The man smiled, running his fingers through the orange fur, feeling the roughness and dirt of the street embedded in it, but he didn't care, content listening to the purring increase.
When his knees could no longer support his weight in that position, Mark let out a long sigh and stood up, stretching. The cat looked down at him, eyes alert.
“Take care of yourself, okay? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you” he murmured, still smiling.
The cat let out another weak meow, as if in response.
Mark hesitated before walking away, giving the little animal one last look. When he started walking again, he didn't notice that the orange cat was looking at him, with that sweet and grateful look that was etched in the man's memory.
When Mark unlocked the front door and walked in, he didn't have a second of peace before he was attacked.
But not by anything dangerous, but by his two huge labradors, who ran towards him as if the man had been away for years. The dogs were too big to be so hasty, and soon they were bumping into him, sticking their noses into his clothes and sniffing every corner of him with tireless energy.
“Hey! Hey! Give me a chance to breathe.” Mark tried to step inside, but Sammy spun around him so fast he nearly tripped him. Simba stuck his nose in the hem of his pants and sniffed exaggeratedly, as if he had encountered an otherworldly scent.
The man laughed, unable to stay angry with the two. He tried to push the two dogs’ giant heads away as he walked towards the kitchen, but Sammy and Simba were too excited and followed him determinedly. “Didn’t anyone take you two for a walk today?”
Following the aroma of dinner being ready, Mark found Fernando finishing setting the table. His husband looked at him with a wry smile before leaning over and giving him a light kiss, having heard the Australian's entire struggle to get there.
“As soon as I got home from work, I took them for a walk. Sammy saw a squirrel, so I had to drag them back. You took a while to get home, you could have taken advantage and taken them out too” Fernando commented, his eyes focused on the labradors, who were still trying to decipher the strange scent on Mark. “What did you do? Why are they sniffing you so much?”
Mark sighed and leaned against the counter.
“I found a hungry cat and stopped to feed him a little” he explained simply.
Fernando raised his eyebrows.
“And why didn’t you bring him home?”
The Australian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at the two labradors who were still agitated, sniffing and circling around him. Fernando watched the scene for a few seconds before laughing again, understanding.
When they decided to have a puppy, the Spaniard had the first impression that there wouldn't be much to worry about. A few years later, they felt that Simba was too lonely, so they brought Sammy home. He had seen several videos of labradors playing with each other and figured they would be perfect to make their house a home.
However, as the years went by, he also realized that dogs could grow bigger than he imagined and took their role as guards of the yard very seriously.
For owners of smaller animals (especially cats), Mark and Fernando's home was practically off-limits territory to approach with their adorable pets.
Whenever Simba and Sammy were outside and caught the scent of a furry intruder, they would not rest until they had chased it away. No cat dared to come near the lawn, those that tried to cross the fence were soon greeted with barking and a chase that made them never want to return.
This, unfortunately, put an end to Fernando's dream of having a cat. He loves his two giant, idiotic dogs, but he misses having a cute little furball that can lie on his lap in the afternoon without suffocating him with its weight.
During dinner, as the two men talked, pieces of food inevitably fell to the floor. Sammy and Simba, alert, took advantage of any crumbs that were given to them. Their butts slapped against the furniture in pure happiness, reflecting their enormous satisfaction with the lifestyle they had. Later Mark and Fernando will snuggle together on the sofa and the dogs will lie at their feet to receive a delicious rub on their full bellies.
If someone asks, they would certainly answer that they lack nothing.
***
The next night, after dinner, Fernando started drying the dishes to help and keep his husband company while the other washed the dishes. Beforehand, the Spaniard had opened the back door and let his dogs out, which is not his custom, but after Sammy jumped in and stole the steak from Mark's plate in an unfortunate moment of distraction, he thought it would be better to let them go to the grass than to dirty his floor.
It's the Australian's turn to choose the movie they're going to watch before bed, and Fernando is trying to convince him not to choose the same old movie. It was a common scene in their routine, the kind of thing that made life comfortable and predictable.
But then, the barking started.
At first, Fernando ignores it, continuing his arguments that he is the one who suffers from Mark's movie choices, since the Australian falls asleep before halfway through and he is the one who watches the movie until the end. The Australian argues that he can watch something else after he accidentally falls asleep, but Fernando is stubborn and wants the two of them to watch a good movie together.
The barking continued and became more insistent.
Mark glanced out the window and frowned.
“Why are they barking so much? Did they see another squirrel?”
“Hm… I don’t think so. Maybe that neighbor’s cat is back” Fernando says.
“Impossible, no cat has the courage to come near our house after the last time” Mark said, convinced, but he leaned over to look out the window and understand what had caused so much agitation in his dogs.
After a pause, he answered his husband, a crooked smile on his lips.
“Honey, I think I saw a kitten.”
Fernando raised his eyebrows, curious about the tone the man used. The moment he looked at the yard, his eyes widened in surprise.
It wasn't a cat.
It's a boy.
A boy, maybe ten years old, was clinging to one of the lower branches of the tree in the backyard, his feet dangling in the air as Sammy and Simba barked intensely at him, circling the base of the tree as if they were about to attack. The boy looked down, scared, holding on as best he could to avoid falling straight into the dogs.
The dogs have never been aggressive toward people, much less children. They enjoy having greasy hands in their fur if it means getting a good scratch behind the ear. But for some strange reason, the labradors seemed determined to exclude the boy from this treatment and to cause as much terror as possible, in the same way they treat cats.
When Mark and Fernando realize that the unknown boy trapped in their tree is not safe, and that their friendly dogs have decided to show their teeth in a threatening manner, they exchange exasperated looks before reacting and running outside.
“Sammy! Simba! Get out of there now!” Mark shouted, already running towards the tree.
The labradors continued barking loudly and jumping, opening their mouths and almost trapping the boy's foot in their teeth. Fernando didn't think twice before acting.
“I’ll take care of the boy, you get them out of here!”
The Australian nodded, dodging and heading straight for the dogs. He grabbed both of their collars and used all his strength to pull them back, feeling their resistance.
“Bad boys! Very bad!” he scolded seriously as he dragged the two towards the garage. He never imagined he would use that tone with his big pups. “How embarrassing!”
Meanwhile, Fernando stood with his arms open, looking at the boy with the calmest expression possible.
“Hey, niño, it’s okay now” he said softly. “The dogs are gone. You can come down easy, I’ll hold you.”
The boy, however, seemed hesitant. His eyes were still wide with fear, his fingers gripping the branch tightly.
“Are… are you sure?” his voice came out shaky, tearful.
Fernando assured, keeping his voice calm. “I promise. Now I need you to get down so you don’t get hurt, okay?” He opened his arms wider, showing his intention. “I won’t let you fall.”
The boy looked at him, sniffing a few times. Perhaps because he was less suspicious, he relaxed enough to release one hand from the branch.
“Very good” the man encouraged.
Then the boy completely let go of the branch, falling straight into Fernando's arms. However, as he didn't expect the boy to give in so quickly, the Spaniard staggered back a little before holding him tightly.
The instant he was caught, the boy clung to him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder.
Fernando felt his weight against his body and hugged him, instinctively squeezing him against him, feeling how fragile and small his body was. He tried not to react when he realized how thin the boy was, even though he was feeling his strength drain away because of it.
“Let’s go in, okay?” he said softly.
The boy didn't respond, still holding on to the Spanish man as if his life depended on it.
Inside the house, under the warm light of the kitchen, Mark and Fernando could finally see the boy more clearly.
He was small, with messy hair and a wary expression, as if he were always ready to run away. His clothes were worn, dirty in places, and his shoes looked too old to protect his feet from the night's cold.
The two men's gazes met for a brief moment, without needing to exchange words, Fernando went to the fridge to heat up what was left of dinner while Mark pulled up a chair and sat next to the boy.
Analyzing the body language of the man next to him, the boy quickly defends himself, as if he fears being punished for a misunderstanding. “I didn’t come to steal anything!”
Well, it's something to think about as to why an unknown boy appeared in their backyard in the middle of the night. Mark was shocked to hear that, preferring to divert the subject to show that he is not making accusations.
“What’s your name, buddy?” he asked in a low, careful voice, as if he were handling a skittish animal. “My name is Mark, and his name is Fernando.” He pointed a finger at the other man in the kitchen.
The boy hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting from Mark to Fernando, before answering.
“Oscar” he blinked, lowering his chin as he looked down at Mark.
The Australian frowned, feeling a strange sensation in his chest, as if he had seen those eyes before. But no matter how much he tried to pull it from memory, nothing concrete came to mind.
“And where do you live, Oscar?” Fernando asked, trying to sound casual, as he placed a plate of warmed food in front of the boy.
The boy stares at the food with interest, leaning forward and sniffing the plate before muttering, “Nearby.”
He doesn't elaborate further than that.
Mark and Fernando exchanged a quick glance. Something was wrong, but they didn't press the issue. The most important thing now was to let him eat.
Oscar devoured his food in a hurry, but with calculated movements, as if he was used to protecting his meal. The two men couldn't help but notice his behavior.
His eyes were always alert, analyzing every detail of the environment around him. His movements were fluid, but at the same time hesitant, as if he were ready to flee at any moment. He didn't even touch the spoon, preferring to use his fingers to hold small pieces of food before putting them in his mouth.
It was as if Oscar was deciding whether to trust them or not.
When he finished eating, the boy wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at the two of them. If he was uncomfortable being watched the whole time he ate, he didn't show it.
“I… need to go.”
Fernando frowned. “Are you sure? It’s late. We can take you home.”
Oscar just shook his head, already preparing to get up.
Mark felt a strange discomfort in his chest. He knew what that meant. He knew that if they let Oscar walk out that door now, they might never see him again.
That was why, before the boy could take the first step outside, the Australian said casually, “If you want, you can come back here another day.”
Oscar blinked, looking surprised by the offer.
Fernando smiled, pleased with his husband’s quick thinking. “Sure. You can come and have dinner with us if you want. Any day.”
The boy hesitated, looking at the two as if trying to understand what they really wanted from this. In the end, he just nodded slowly.
“Ok”
Mark and Fernando watched as he disappeared down the sidewalk.
“Did you feel that too?” the Australian asked when they were alone.
The other man sighed, crossing his arms. “That he’s a homeless?”
“Not just that” he ran a hand over his face. “I felt like… I knew him from somewhere.”
“You know a lot of people” he arched an eyebrow.
Mark shook his head, still trying to understand his own hunch.
“If he comes back, maybe we can find out.” Fernando placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
The silence that followed was short-lived.
A loud, impatient bark echoed through the house, followed by another, and then another, until it became a chaotic symphony of anxious dogs.
They both let out a long sigh.
“They better not think we’re going to let them sleep in our room tonight, those two are in serious trouble” Mark said.
“Don’t say that about our children, they are our serious problems” Fernando’s voice shows compassion, but at the same time, he seems to be amused by his husband’s ‘serious father’ attitude.
“Then I’ll confiscate their favorite toy!” the Australian replied, forcing his voice to sound deeper and angrier. “They’re lucky no one got hurt.”