K has memories of the orphanage but not an entire childhood's worth. He tips his head, attentive and curious but cautious.
"And that lasted long enough for you to be old enough to be on your own?" he asks, because really, the rest only matters if Jesus wants to talk about any of it.
"Yeah. I was six when I went in, and you have until you're eighteen to get back with your own family or get adopted into a new one." He shrugs. None of this is tied to pleasant memories, but K seems to be genuinely curious. "I aged out."
He wants to know about Jesus, wants to know what the shadows are that flicker through his expression tied to nothing obvious that K is aware of. He wants to know his friend.
He nods, noting the dismissive shrug with the resigned, worn discomfort of the actual words.
"Thank you for telling me," he says. "I'm sorry you had to wait all that time."
"Ah, well," he says, with a smile that's more sad than he probably realizes. "I learned a lot there that kept me alive after the fall. Maybe it was for the best."
He gets them both bottles of lemonade and offers one. "What else makes you smile?"
The prompt gets K moving again, pulling his phone out and scrolling through it to find the messages Sara sent him. The rest he very obviously has no idea what to do with or even what question to ask.
"I didn't know that was possible," he finally settles on, offering the phone. It has a paused video up of K sitting cross legged on the floor of a large whelping box, nine puppies in various stages of crawling over his lap and trying to reach his face while he does his best to pet all of them at once, eyes bright.
The look on Jesus's face as he watches is impossibly soft. Impossible for the world he just came from, impossible for the things they're going through in this world, but there it is anyway: just a warm joy because his friend loves puppies.
It takes K a moment to notice, as he's still stuck on the concept of adopting someone else's baby dogs. "You don't think he wants them?" he's asking when he catches sight of Jesus's face and swallows whatever his next question was going to be.
He tips his head for a moment, confused, and then that clicks too and he relaxes, smiling, as the version of him on the video notices he's being recorded and goes blank for a second - but the largest of the litter, a round, tawny girl pup manages to get an angle on licking his chin that puts her tongue unexpectedly up his left nostril and he startles, laughing.
He likes the idea. He does. Nibbles is in with V right now but he spends plenty of time curled up in K's lap or on his chest, and it's reassuring in such an unexpected way to have a living creature that wants to do that, that chooses to.
But: "I have no idea how to take care of a dog," he says, as the K on the video scoops Mango up and the puppy switches to licking his neck, chewing on his ear, which K tolerates patiently.
Jesus has never had a pet, either. But that doesn't matter. "You have plenty of people who'd be happy to teach. But you have good instincts, I think it'd come easier to you than you think."
"No." He glances down, worried this will cheapen his vote. "They weren't allowed in the group home, and I never had a stable enough place to have one after I was on my own. But I like dogs. I know they do a lot of good for people. And I know you'd be great."
On the contrary. "If I did - if Cassidy and V let me - you could come see her whenever you want."
Jesus's eagerness to introduce K to Nibbles, the number of times the cat came up over the course of their friendship, means that K is more than happy to make sure Jesus can come pet the dog as often as possible, too.
"She's very friendly. She'd like you too, I know she would."
"I'll ask," he hedges, because he's not just going to steal someone's dog, and there's still that ingrained habit of expecting not to be trusted by just anyone.
But he does like the idea. There's only one more hesitation: "What about Nibbles?"
He doesn't know anything about dogs, but he does know the phrase fighting like cats and dogs.
"I read you can introduce them slowly. And with a baby, maybe Nibbles can teach it to respect cats." Instead of, you know, the dog chasing him up a tree. "Nibbles is a street cat. He knows how to hold boundaries."
"I'll ask," he promises again, sliding his phone away, fingers brushing Jesus's in passing.
"Now that you've said that, actually, I think that might be what Sara looked so pleased about when she showed me. I couldn't figure out what I was seeing." A plan working out, his experience told him, but he couldn't imagine what the plan was.
"She wants you happy," Jesus says, grinning. It feels like being on a team even if this team's only focus is getting K to smile like he had in the video when he hadn't realized he was being watched. "I like her. I'm glad you found her."
"She found me," he corrects, but he's smiling when he does it now; he's glad they met, glad they get along.
"The guards were hassling me about my coat. She stopped to make sure that was all they did, and then showed me around a bit."
He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulls one out of the pack, moving a bit around the corner of the island now that he clearly intends to light it and doesn't want to stand directly over the food when he does.
He likes the James Dean vibe, but he's also grateful K takes the ash away from the meal. He gets the potatoes in the oven and then leans over to take the cigarette gently, then just as gently kisses K before he hands the cigarette back.
K holds still until he figures out what's going on, and by then he's kissing back warmly. He picks up right where he left off, settling on one of the island stools, close enough to easily talk but letting the quiet fan system in the kitchen pull the smoke away.
"After our orientation, there were those workshops." He didn't see everyone there, but he was still in shock at the time, still numb and unsure. He might have missed them, or he might have imagined how mandatory it seemed. It doesn't matter. He remembers that part clearly because of Vrenille. "They put me in a room with a blindfold, told me not to take it off. Dominants could come in and... I wasn't clear on the rules, if there was a time limit, or boundaries of any kind, or if it was different for everyone. One of the Doms was angry about my not being enthusiastic enough to kiss him back, and then Vrenille came in."
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"And that lasted long enough for you to be old enough to be on your own?" he asks, because really, the rest only matters if Jesus wants to talk about any of it.
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He nods, noting the dismissive shrug with the resigned, worn discomfort of the actual words.
"Thank you for telling me," he says. "I'm sorry you had to wait all that time."
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He gets them both bottles of lemonade and offers one. "What else makes you smile?"
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"Joi taught me to dance, and I'm glad she did. I liked my cruiser." And then abruptly, remembering: "One of Sara's friends has a dog who had puppies."
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It takes on an extra light when he asks, "Are you going to adopt one?"
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It stops him from digging out his phone. "What?"
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"I didn't know that was possible," he finally settles on, offering the phone. It has a paused video up of K sitting cross legged on the floor of a large whelping box, nine puppies in various stages of crawling over his lap and trying to reach his face while he does his best to pet all of them at once, eyes bright.
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He tips his head for a moment, confused, and then that clicks too and he relaxes, smiling, as the version of him on the video notices he's being recorded and goes blank for a second - but the largest of the litter, a round, tawny girl pup manages to get an angle on licking his chin that puts her tongue unexpectedly up his left nostril and he startles, laughing.
"That's Mango."
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God knows there was never enough attention in the group home, not that the staff were equipped to give it anyway.
"You should see if Mango can come live with you when she's big enough."
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But: "I have no idea how to take care of a dog," he says, as the K on the video scoops Mango up and the puppy switches to licking his neck, chewing on his ear, which K tolerates patiently.
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"Have you ever had a dog?"
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Jesus's eagerness to introduce K to Nibbles, the number of times the cat came up over the course of their friendship, means that K is more than happy to make sure Jesus can come pet the dog as often as possible, too.
"She's very friendly. She'd like you too, I know she would."
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But he does like the idea. There's only one more hesitation: "What about Nibbles?"
He doesn't know anything about dogs, but he does know the phrase fighting like cats and dogs.
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"Now that you've said that, actually, I think that might be what Sara looked so pleased about when she showed me. I couldn't figure out what I was seeing." A plan working out, his experience told him, but he couldn't imagine what the plan was.
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"The guards were hassling me about my coat. She stopped to make sure that was all they did, and then showed me around a bit."
He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulls one out of the pack, moving a bit around the corner of the island now that he clearly intends to light it and doesn't want to stand directly over the food when he does.
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"How did you meet Vrenille?"
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"After our orientation, there were those workshops." He didn't see everyone there, but he was still in shock at the time, still numb and unsure. He might have missed them, or he might have imagined how mandatory it seemed. It doesn't matter. He remembers that part clearly because of Vrenille. "They put me in a room with a blindfold, told me not to take it off. Dominants could come in and... I wasn't clear on the rules, if there was a time limit, or boundaries of any kind, or if it was different for everyone. One of the Doms was angry about my not being enthusiastic enough to kiss him back, and then Vrenille came in."
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