Work Text:
It was 3 am and Matsuri was finally finished with work. He’d been filing reports all day, the text blurring before his eyes (something about work-related trips? Arima taking some squads out? All he remembered was the word ambidextrous on each of the sheets), and all he wanted was to collapse into his bed.
However, life was never easy for a Washuu.
When Matsuri opened his office door, it nudged against something on the other side. Stepping forward to examine the source of the problem caused a crinkling to sound from underneath his shoes. Matsuri had stepped on a note printed in Hirako’s familiar blocky characters.
“No one else in the office is available, so take care of my dog for a week. If I come back and he’s in anything less than perfect health, I will quit.”
It read. There was a little doodle of…well it was a pretty bad drawing so he wasn’t sure, but it was probably Arima (it had white hair…or Hirako was too lazy to fill that part in) in a kindergartener’s outfit. He appeared to be wandering off some kind of cliff…or maybe a building…?
Was Hirako saying Arima was an unsupervised child?
Deciding to ignore the note and head home, Matsuri shoved the door open the rest of the way. He wandered down to the parking lot and climbed into his car. It was only after he was seated that he noticed something strange.
A shiba dog was sitting next to his car, gazing through the window and into his eyes. Its tail gave one slow, agonizingly hopeful, wag.
Later, Matsuri would blame sleep-deprivation for his next decision. Later, he would realize how foolish his plan was. However, now was not later, and now he was focused on how much Hirako’s dog liked Investigator Sasaki. How willing Sasaki was to help with anything and everything.
How easy it would be to get him into his (pants) house.
As luck would have it, the tail wagging ended the second Matsuri got the dog into his car. It proceeded to whine throughout the car ride, scratching at the leather seats, licking the meticulously cleaned windows. Matsuri almost pitied the maid who would have to deal with the slobber and fur.
Despite its insistence that cars were to be feared, the dog refused to get out. Matsuri had to physically carry it out (getting bitten and scratched) and then up the stairs to the front door. In his exhausted state, he didn’t even notice when the dog stopped fighting (the second his door swung open).
If he had’ve been paying attention, he would’ve seen it for the ill omen it was.
Akira had broken into his house and had…changed things. There was a cat tree at his front door. A litterbox sat innocently in the living room (the dog was currently trying to wedge his disgusting little face into the litter). There was a food and water bowl.
And a cat.
Of course there was a cat.
The dog, previously distracted by being fucking gross, glanced up at his exasperated groan. Then, slowly, like Matsuri was trapped in a horror movie, the dog turned to look at the cat.
Inside his head, Matsuri could’ve sworn he heard dramatic and discordant violin music. Maris Stella was sitting on Matsuri’s lovely maple wood bar (digging her godforsaken claws into the finish he had put onto it himself) and seemed content to ignore them all. However, the dog had other plans.
The barking began and Matsuri knew that he would not sleep tonight.
“Sasaki,”
Matsuri rasped into the phone (trying to smother the edge of hysteria as Maris Stella circled his legs like a shark),
“Please…help.”
On the other end of the line, Sasaki made a concerned noise. Matsuri could hear him rushing to down the stairs of the Chateau as he said,
“Of course, I’m on my way!”
Filling Matsuri’s heart with relief. These animals were demons (the dog ate part of his mattress during the night). No mere mortal could handle them.
Fortunately, Sasaki was an absolute angel.
Barely an hour after Sasaki had arrived on his doorstep, Matsuri’s house was peaceful and quiet. The dog was asleep on Sasaki’s lap and the cat was nowhere to be found (”Maris Stella is an elegant creature! She needs privacy to rest~”). Sasaki looked gorgeous, humming a tune to himself as Matsuri threw himself onto the couch.
Working up a good leer, Matsuri wracked his brain for a good pickup line. Since Sasaki was already at his place, he wanted him in his bed.
(Bed…
He hadn’t slept…
Last night…
B…e…d…)
Matsuri fell asleep and, quiet as a mouse, Sasaki snuck out of the house.
“Why are you here.”
Matsuri said, staring at Urie Kuki through a crack in his door. He was too afraid to open in completely. The cat had been lurking since he woke up and it seemed hell-bent on escape.
“Sasaki needs to take Mutsuki to a tailor. He doesn’t have any good suits.”
Urie muttered (petulantly). This did not answer Matsuri’s question, so he simply stared at Urie in silence. Their little contest lasted for a few minutes before Matsuri felt a whisper of fur along his ankles, forcing him to make a tactical decision.
He invited Urie in to take care of the animals.
That was the beginning of the end.
Throughout the rest of the week, Matsuri was waylaid from calling Sasaki. The entirety of the Qs showed up, wreaking more havoc than the beasts they were supposed to be containing. Suzuya Juuzou had attempted to come in (Matsuri had soundly rejected that idea). Arima called him hourly with ‘updates’ (thinly-veiled threats) on the ONE DAY nobody showed up at his house.
At one point, a tiny lady with a camera slipped in. She’d taken a photo of him from his position on the floor (buried underneath the dog that was trying to lick his face off) before escaping.
Matsuri had never been so disheveled in his life. Or tired. Or…furry. He was pretty sure he was covered in scratches too (the cat had attacked him during the night. It had gone after his toes like it was possessed, then had hidden under his bed, making him too terrified to move the entire night).
There was one day left.
He was pretty sure he was going to die.
Matsuri peered out from his tactical position in the bathroom. He had dumped all the food out for both animals quickly before sprinting to the bathroom to observe (hide).
Sasaki was coming with Akira to pick up the…creature she had abandoned at his house. Matsuri couldn’t stand being seen in his current condition, so he’d cleaned a suit with a lint roller and hidden himself away. It couldn’t get damaged if nothing touched it.
It would be ok. Sasaki wouldn’t get to see what a wreck he was. He could still be smooth, sauve, and confident.
The cat was in the shower.
How was the cat in the shower!?
The bathroom door had been locked! He never left!
He had shut the cat into the shower. It was yowling and Matsuri was terrified. Was this animal abuse?
Oh God, he could hear the dog whining at the door.
Matsuri had placed his food in the shower stall. The cat was eating it, bit by bit, taunting him.
The dog was still whining.
The doorbell rang and chaos descended upon him. The cat eeled out through a gap in the shower door and the dog sprinted to the door, barking up a storm. Quickly, Matsuri fled the bathroom, running in the same direction.
Sasaki was a sight for sore eyes and Matsuri was even grateful to see his traitorous subordinates (Hirako and Akira). Hell, he was even happy to see Arima waiting in the car they had come in.
“Take them.”
He deadpanned, praying he didn’t appear as frazzled as he felt. The amusement in Akira’s eyes indicated that he hadn’t entirely succeeded, but Sasaki was too busy petting the dog to notice, so it was fine.
Despite the difficulties he had getting the animals into his house, removing them was surprisingly easy. The shiba followed Hirako faithfully and the cat walked straight into the carrier Akira opened for it.
He felt a pang of jealousy, to be honest.
With everything packed away (and with everyone distracted), Matsuri turned to Sasaki with his best leer. He let his eyes rake over the other man’s body and said,
“You know, the dog tore up my bed…”
Trailing a hand delicately (purposefully) up Sasaki’s arm (smirking at the shiver that followed it),
“So I need another one to sleep in.”
Sasaki flushed a satisfying shade of red and Matsuri grinned in victory. His fingers curled over Sasaki’s throat, giving him the leverage to pull him forwards. He was seconds away from uttering something truly filthy when he felt something wet on his shoe.
The dog had thrown up on him.
As Sasaki drove off with Hirako, Arima, and Akira to the vet, Matsuri caught a good look of Arima’s face. That fucker was smirking.
Matsuri’s phone vibrated. He had a photo text with a caption.
-Sender: Arima Kishou-
Photo: hand.gesture.jpg
Caption: the dog vomits on command :^)
That fucker.