drear | great dane's cheekbones, teenage hormones.

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great dane's cheekbones, teenage hormones.

[ It's over, finally. Everything is being cleared out of the building except for the people who will keep it running during this next period of hopefully-peace. People are celebrating, but Heine's just tired. He wants to go... away. Not home, never home. He'll find somewhere new.

(His spine is fucked from a mine they hadn't been able to avoid. One of his legs was nearly shattered from the blast, never quite healed, and it still bothers him, but there are others still worse off. He should be thankful, but he just doesn't care anymore.)

Passing by the dog pens, he pauses, pivoting on his crutches. There are soldiers being reunited with the dogs that saved their lives, their companions and fellow survivors. Most of the dogs have been taken in elsewhere or will be kept for guard duties, except for a few left. He asks about them without thinking it through. Even those still in the pen have been claimed and will be picked up later. Heine looks over the remaining dogs, gaze falling on the biggest one with fluffy brown hair and an equally fluffy tail. Something in his face is familiar, but he can't quite place it. Maybe they'd fought somewhere together, he can't remember.

He hesitates for a while longer. Company isn't necessary. But... Heine sighs through his nose and gets the necessary papers done, not taking up the offer to meet the dog before adopting him. The guy running the process goes to call the dog over to the gate, handing Heine a battered leather leash he can use. Heine doubts he'll be using it, though. It's hard enough to get around on crutches already; leading someone else around on a leash isn't going to make it any easier.

The dog comes over to the exit, and Heine knows that he knows him. But the memory keeps slipping away, and he doesn't have the energy to chase it. ]

Hey. [ If it's possible to mumble one word, he does it. ] ...Randall, right?

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[ He'll take that as a yes, then, and move Heine's bags to the bedroom, unzipping them to get started. He hasn't even looked at rooms yet; he can't be sure he even has his own. This is a fine start for now, though, and that's a problem that can be sorted out later. He could always sleep on the couch.

He doesn't miss passing by the wheelchair, either. Or the disdainful look it gets from his master. ]

Take your time! I'll start unpacking your things.

[ He empties one bag, carefully sorting the clothes inside into drawers. Underclothes and socks in the top drawer, shirts below that, trousers on the bottom. Any personal items are carefully set atop the dresser in neat groups so they're easy to find, and the empty bag is folded and left in a chair in the corner. Heine comes back out of the bathroom just as he opens the second one and started to add more shirts to the middle drawer, glancing up with a small, timid smile.

Should he leave...? Or stay?? His back is to the bed, either way, but he'll use the bathroom first, probably. That would give him privacy to change or whatever else he may want to do. ]

I won't be long; just call if you need anything, though!

[ It takes him a little more than a few minutes to empty his bladder and wash up, a quick shallow bath just to scrub off the smell of the shelter and wash his head.

He completely neglected to bring his own things in when he'd rushed in, and he peeks out the door with a towel about his waist. He's still embarrassed by his body, covered in pits and scars and the fresh bandages over the entrance and exit wound at his stomach. ]

Sorry, I forgot to bring my bag in— I'm just going to—

[ Make a run for it, basically. His steps are ginger but he darts out of the room even so, grabbing clothes from his duffel to pull on in the living room. His sleepclothes are a little small on him, but they'd do the job. When he does peek back in the room, his ears are splayed, one back and one relaxed. ]

Is there anything you need? Before bed, or if you'd like me to do anything in the morning...

[ Even as he asks, though, he's stepping in and going for the extra blankets folded up on the back of the chair he'd set his empty bag in, moving to cover Heine. They're lightweight enough and easy to manipulate, but he doesn't want him catching a cold right off the bat. ]

[ Heine stays sprawled out on the bedsheets, willing to doze off but in too much discomfort to. He needs to adjust his position again, make sure that he's supported on both sides so he won't roll around in his sleep and hurt his spine more, but it's all so much trouble.

He opens his eyes again when Randall returns, squinting as he darts in to grab his things and runs back out. The next time he comes back, Heine keeps his eyes closed and just mumbles his responses. ]

Pillows. [ Cracking an eye open, he can't even get himself up on his elbows to look around. ] Just move them down...

[ He can't reach so far above his head in this position, and he needs them before he actually falls asleep. ]

Of course— [ He says, as if he has any actual idea why. Move the pillows down? But they're for your head? Ah, but wait, the way he's been moving— maybe to support something? His leg? He sets the blankets draped over his arm at the foot of the bed and reaches over Heine for the other pillows, one in each hand and tilting his head in question. ]

Where did you want them? [ Besides down. That doesn't help him any. ]

Here. [ Heine pats the bed to the right of his ribcage lightly. ] And on the other side.

[ He tries to take the pillows from Randall, despite the fact that he's finding it very difficult to move any more without triggering another burst of pain in his back.

Once they're settled on either side of him, Heine lies still, eyes shuttering. He talks with his eyes closed, mostly resigned to whatever Randall plans to do with the blankets. ]

There's another bedroom down the hall. Just turn off the light on your way out.

[ He'll allow Heine to take one of the pillows, setting the other against his opposite side for easy access to adjust himself if... he can. He takes the blankets he'd left from the foot of the bed and will be ready to cover him up as soon as he's situated, layering him in three and making sure he's covered the other man's feet. There's more he could be doing. He has to be patient, however, and let Heine adjust to him, hopefully proving himself trustworthy over time.

There's a deep pit in his soul that still aches, and he feels that he owes something to this man he's never met before. This is one small step towards that unfathomable redemption. ]

There, that should do it. Um, if you need anything— anything at all, really. Just call for me. I'll be able to hear you throughout the house. Sleep well, Heine.

[ His ears twitch upright before splaying once more, and he'll make his way out of the room, hitting the light switch at the doorway and leaning it closed. A couple doors open before he finds "his" room, happening upon a closet and the door to the laundry room before he'd found the right one. He'll go get his bag from the living room and push it in a corner, eyeing the small single bed in the center of the room draped in a lacy bedspread and pastel pillows. Well. It'd have to do.

There's a loud creak as he climbs carefully into the bed, curled up with his knees poking off the side and his feet still hanging off the end of the bed, head cricked uncomfortably against the headboard to fit as much of himself on it as possible. Even like this, he falls asleep near-immediately. ]

[ Heine adjusts the pillows as well as he can before lying completely still once more. The blankets immediately help him warm up. Heine shifts them a little, but then lies still again. ]

Right. [ Marginal politeness from Heine, who just blinks again, a little more slowly, as Randall turns off the light. ] Night.

[ Heine sleeps more or less soundly, which at this point means waking up five times or less throughout the night. His back constantly hurts him, and it would take a lot of painkillers to keep it from affecting him—more painkillers than he's willing to take.

The sun wakes him up in the morning. It's past 8, he'd guess, staring blearily up at the ceiling and judging the brightness of the light. It takes a while longer for him to consider levering himself out of bed. He carefully lifts himself up, hissing through his teeth since there's no one around to notice.

Crutches next. He slowly gets out of bed, trying not to stretch too much. He gets over to the bathroom, thankfully with no trouble, where he uses the bathroom, washes his face and hands, and braces himself for going out... at least into the rest of the house. He should probably get a look around where he'll be living—where they'll be living. He wonders if Randall's awake yet, and shuffles down the hallway to see if he is. ]

[ Randall was out like a light, and the sun didn't shine in his room to wake him up until far later in the day, he'd find. Yesterday's adventure, excitement, and high-strung nerves had exhausted him thoroughly and he'll still be asleep by the time Heine makes his way to his room, curled up tight and still hanging off three edges of the bed. His tail's come out from under the lacy quilt, feet turned ice cubes and knees left to the elements as they all hung free in the cold. His door was left halfway open with no sense of his own privacy, ensuring he'd be able to hear Heine if he'd called for him.

He hadn't, but the sound of crutches is distinct on hardwood floors. His ears twitch first when Heine gets to his door, then his tail pulls back in against his body before he stretches, heels of his feet hitting the floor with a rude thump that jolts him to the bone when his legs fall off the end of the bed at the knee.

From that point, he's begrudgingly, painfully awake, groaning. And when he rolls over, he'll see his master in the doorway.

And just stare, sleep still keeping a firm grasp on his eyelids. Was his brain even working yet? Had it frozen over as well? It's hard to say. It takes a few seconds before his eyes widen and he seems to realize just who he'd been blearily staring at, and then he sits up in bed fast enough to about launch himself off the bed and look around wildly, still confused. ]

Was there... Did you call for me? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so late— [ What time is it, anyway? With how dark his room looks and how stiff his body feels, it must be the afternoon. He's a bit horrified! But he catches sight of an old clock on the wall and then... provided it's even correct, sighs in relief. It couldn't possibly be 9PM with the light outside like this. 9AM, then. That wasn't as bad. ]

[ Resting his weight on his crutches, Heine peers into the open doorway of Randall's room. Looks like he's just about waking up. Heine sees his ears twitching, the way he almost tumbles out of the bed. It's really too small for him, isn't it... the bed in Heine's room is bigger, but probably still not big enough.

Well, they'll deal with that later. Heine raises his eyebrows at how disoriented Randall looks. ]

No. I just got up. [ He didn't want to call for help. ] And it's not that late.

[ It's near breakfast-time, though, and he's hungry. Heine turns in the hallway to go back to the kitchen. ]

Where'd you put those croissants?

[ A custom bed is in his future, unfortunately. He's likely the most problematic pet Heine could have come home with; awkwardly sized and dotted with injuries and too earnest for his own good. He doesn't react adversely to being in a new environment, at least, even if he hadn't initially remembered. Just confusion that hadn't been helped by icy feet and a crick in his neck.

He's slow to get out of bed, pant legs twisted and hiked nearly up to his knees in his sleep, taking the time to straighten his appearance out. ]

Oh good; I wanted to make sure to wake up when you did, if possible! [ To help. ] The croissants? I left them on the kitchen counter, if I remember correctly. I could fix some coffee— [ Wait, are there even groceries in the house? What if all they had was tap water and chocolate croissants?? He takes his time to stretch, hands hitting the ceiling before he stifles a yawn into his scarred hand and moves to pad out to the kitchen. ]

[ Heine just sort of grunts in acknowledgement. He still would like to protest that he doesn't need help, but... he did have trouble getting out of bed earlier, and not just because he was still tired. Years in the military have ingrained a system of waking up regardless of physical state when roused, and so far, it's a system still firmly in place. ]

There probably isn't any food left in the house. Tap water— [ He yawns a moment after Randall does. ] —is fine.

[ Rather than get out of the way in the hall, Heine crutches down the hall into the kitchen. In the morning light, everything looks well-used but homey, if mostly unfurnished. They'll have to go shopping later. But for now, breakfast.

Heine searches the cabinets until he finds a set of glasses. He has to stretch to get them, which makes him scowl again mightily. After rinsing them, he fills two with water and leaves them on the counter, leaning against it. ]

I need to buy a lot of things. And you're gonna need a new bed, huh. [ Heine, at least, seems to consider tap water and chocolate croissants a perfectly serviceable breakfast. ]

[ Randall follows diligently, humming an acknowledgement to what Heine had said, even if it seemed problematic. They'd have to go grocery shopping, then, amongst other things. He wonders idly if he'd be able to carry everything they needed.

He procures the croissants from where he'd left them, moving to turn on the oven to heat them back up and soften them. He turns just as Heine stretches for glasses and winces when the other man shows his pain, immediately awake when he considers having to be on guard for these sorts of things. He has to be more diligent. Randall will take his glass of water gratefully and sip at it, nice and cold out of the pipes as if it were winter. ]

Ah... I don't mind the one I have. Really. I can sleep anywhere. [ Not comfortably, maybe, but he could sleep anywhere. The military hadn't particularly been accommodating to a mutt off the streets, either, so he isn't too worried about it.

When the oven's warmed up enough, Randall goes ahead and slides the croissants right onto the rack and closes the door again, looking back at the clock. A few minutes should do it. ]

Would you want to go back into town today?

[ His ears perk at the prospect alone, and he thinks he'd rather like the seaside town during the day as much as he had by night. Small and homey and filled with warm people. That was his initial impression and he's sure it was right on the money. ]

Well, you're not going to fit on my bed either.

[ Heine's had enough experience with sleeping in awkward places. He'd like to avoid that from now on, and help Randall do the same. As for why—probably just decency, and an attempt to leave behind what the war was.

Part of that is making a new life in this tiny town. Heine looks at the clock when Randall does. ]

Yeah. We need food and stuff, right?

[ Heine makes a list of priorities in his head. Food, bank, clothes... and finding a carpenter or someone capable of making a bed. ]

[ He's immediately flustered with the mention of it, waving a hand dismissively at Heine. ] There's no way I could take your bed! Please don't even joke about it!

[ With the followup, though, he starts to look through the cupboards and fridge, looking a little sheepish. ]

Well, yes. There isn't anything here except for some baking soda. Are you up for it? I wouldn't mind going into town alone, either, if that'd be acceptable.

[ If he's trusted; he wouldn't take offense if he isn't, either. That's a lot of money to put in a stranger's hands.

When he looks back at the clock, he goes to open the oven and poke at one of the croissants— nice and flaky again, and warm to the touch. That'd do. He takes two of the simple plates in the cupboard out and shuffles a croissant onto each, turning the oven off and moving to set them down on the little table in front of a large window that took up most of the front wall overlooking the beach. He'll hover for a moment, wanting Heine to sit before he takes his own seat. ]

[ The rooms are pretty much the same size, Heine wants to protest. But he doesn't. They'll find another way. ]

I should probably get a look around town. [ Though he'll probably have to use the wheelchair. Heine fixes an annoyed look on the wall, behind which the wheelchair probably is. ] I need to talk to the town's doctor, set up an appointment. For you, too.

[ Heine glances out the window, but he goes to his seat without much protest, settling in the chair. He eats the croissant with his hands without another word, dusting the crumbs from his face and hands once he's done. He'd slept surprisingly well, considering the returned memories and knowledge of a previous life, but now that he's waking up again, it's abruptly exhausting—so much so that he's almost willing to use the chair instead of his crutches. ]

I can probably move the wheelchair myself. [ A warning, to Randall, as they're clearing the table. ] But—

[ He doesn't want to admit it, but it's true. ] I'll need you to get me up hills and shit.

[ He follows his line of sight and seems a little confused, but seems happy enough that Heine wants to go together. His tail wags slowly, swishing noisily behind him as his ears perk up with the admission. ]

Have you been here before? It looked so lovely last night, I'm sure it's even lovelier during the day.

[ He starts to pick at his croissant as well, fingers getting far too flaky for his liking and trying to be discreet in wiping them off... somewhere. (His pants.) He doesn't want to lick them and look filthy or ill-mannered. At the mention of a doctor, he only hums and nods as he eats, none too fond of doctors but willing to do anything Heine asks of him. Then he brings up the wheelchair and he realizes what he'd been glaring daggers at through the walls with a dawning understanding. ]

That's not a problem— I'm strong. Very. I don't mind at all, Heine. [ Not that he really needed to clarify that, since he'd already made it obvious; but he does anyway. He doesn't take things from Heine's hands (he wouldn't dare by any means) but he does go about cleaning things quicker to keep the other man from doing them first. ]

Yeah, a couple of years ago.

[ Heine enjoyed the croissant, honestly. And the sun's shining brightly, if with a certain bleak air, glancing off the water almost blindingly as the day turns warmer. ]

Okay. [ Heine does want to clean up—he doesn't care for untidiness—but Randall's faster, since he can move around freely rather than be bound by crutches. Heine frowns a little at being foiled, but eventually gives in and moves off out of the kitchen to get his things before they go out.

Once he's gathered his money and a jacket to wear against the sea breeze, Heine finally makes it over to the wheelchair. He props his crutches against the wall and slowly lowers himself into it, holding himself up on the arms; no sense in waiting for any longer.

It's weirder than sitting in a regular chair. Heine takes off the brakes and manages to wheel himself down the hall and into the kitchen, near the exit. He looks up at Randall, even more than before—which is annoying. ]

You look even taller from here. [ Confused by the jarring, mismatched memories, uncomfortable in the wheelchair, and not looking forward to socializing, Heine is grumpier than even before. It doesn't help that using his arms to wheel himself anywhere puts stress on his back, too. ]

All right, let's go.

[ He still insists on getting himself out of the house on his own, despite the pain, but he passes Randall the key once they're outside so that he can lock the door. It's hard to get close to it in the wheelchair. ]

[ He's a little bit proud he managed to foil Heine, chest puffed with a tiny smile as the other man frowns and he's putting away the last glass. When Heine moves off to get ready, so too does Randall, sparing no time in getting dressed once more and bringing his papers and checks with him to open his own little bank account and deposit his earnings into, with his papers to aid any doctor's visit they may make for the day.

The sun may have been a bit blinding where it glared off the ocean from the kitchen, but from Randall's bedroom window, it's a glittering blue expanse that stretches into a foggy horizon, slowly stretching further and further as the fogbank dissipates like the last wisps of smoke from a fire. It's hard to tear himself away from the view, and the only thing that gets his feet moving again is the prospect of being able to walk along that coast back into town.

When he does make it back out, Heine's just then lowering himself into the unfolded chair and seeming to test it out. The wheels move smoothly over the floor with only the soft creak of fabric giving way to his weight as he shifts. When he rolls up to Randall and stops at the front door, he tilts his head as one fluffy ear flops forward, inquisitive. ]

Is that the only downside to it? [ He might be teasing a teeny tiny bit. He wanted to lift his spirits a little. ] If there's anything you want me to carry, just let me know. I have my bag here.

[ He'll take the keys and lock up behind them, fumbling with the locks for a few seconds before he figures it out. One of the locks doesn't turn in the same direction as the other. He'll remember that. Randall's clad in a simple pair of jeans and a tan button-down under his military coat, which is unfortunately one of only two outfits he has. The grey button-down and slacks from yesterday were hanging outside his window to freshen up in the sun. That stupidly fluffy tail of his starts wagging the minute they're out the door and walking, only increasing in speed as he sees other people and birds and boats on the ocean. ]

Edited 2015-05-02 02:13 (UTC)

[ That's definitely not the only downside to it, and Heine is sure that Randall knows that. He scowls again, adjusting his position to settle on the footrests. His leg itches under the cast. ]

You can carry whatever we buy later.

[ If he's being petty... well, so be it. Heine is quiet for the trip into town, if only because he's concentrating on wheeling his chair and not making any obvious indication of his extreme discomfort. It's only when they reach a sloping paved path, with the houses and buildings of the town in sight, that he gives in and asks for help. ]

Push me from here on, would you?

[ His attempt at lightheartedness seems to have failed and his ears splay again, one turning back entirely. Whoops. It'd take some getting used to, this new relationship. He doesn't mind the silence, and only gives an affirmative little noise when Heine tells him that he can carry things later, and instead walks along behind and to the left of Heine's wheelchair, eyes on the sparkling bay.

The crashing of the waves is a pleasant hush broken only by birdsong and the occasional awkward cry of the gulls, rubber wheels passing steadily over the boardwalk and later paving stone of the town's sidewalks. When Heine does finally speak up again, Randall visibly startles, but his hands come to rest on the handles quickly. ]

Yeah! Not a problem. It's beautiful today, isn't it? And I like the sound of the ocean.

[ He takes the chance to strike up conversation again, trying not to push Heine much faster than he'd been wheeling himself about. That'd probably make him self-conscious and annoyed with himself, he thinks. He has no problems with the chair or Heine's weight getting pushed up the hill, and when they reach the crest there's a sprawling view of the bay he can't help but pause and take it with a light little sigh.

This was his new home. He really, really liked it. ]

[ Heine only makes an affirmative noise. It is beautiful outside, the sun warm despite the cool breeze off the water. He looks out over the sea, narrowing his eyes at the sun as Randall wheels his chair up the slope into town.

He doesn't even protest when Randall takes a moment to stop and look at the scenery, that's how nice it is. ]

We're going to the bank first.

[ At this time of day, the town's already bustling with activity. People are curious about the new residents of the old sea cottage; most of the fishermen are rough around the edges, but friendly, and the others are simply welcoming. It's a small town, and any changes cause a commotion.

Heine makes an attempt to keep his expression from being outright angry, and mostly succeeds as they travel down the street. ]

That sounds good! I have my checks to open an account with as well, so I can pay for my things.

[ Randall by no means wants to be a bother, even if he has significantly less than Heine.

And luckily for Heine, his new dog is friendly enough to make up for his grouchy demeanor. He greets everyone they pass and asks how they are, barely slowing down his pace so Heine doesn't grow annoyed if they take too long because of those pleasantries. He introduces them to a couple of people who ask, but for the most part it just seems to be the townsfolk gauging their amiability.

He can see the sign for the bank and ambles towards it, not able to keep the little smile from his face. This was nice. Randall already likes the people here and his ears are perked up and his tail is wagging slowly, easily. It takes a little juggling, but he'll step forward with a hand still on the opposite handle of the chair if Heine doesn't want to take over to open the door to the bank and push him in, ears twitching with the little bell that dings. ]

[ Heine just makes an acknowledging sound, looking around as they travel through town. He manages a greeting or two, but he'd still rather be alone. And not in pain. That'd be preferable too.

He can't get enough leverage without hurting his back to open the door, so though he doesn't want to, he lets Randall get the door. The inside of the bank is a little more polished than the rest of Almsport, but still with touches of seaside charm that most people would call quaint. Heine directs them toward the teller's booth, which is empty at the moment.

After reaching up to ring the bell, Heine slouches back in his seat. The teller, an elderly man, well-dressed, hurries over with a genial expression and a welcome. Heine cuts him off with, ] I'd like to open an account.

[ And that's that, more or less. Heine is curt but not overtly rude, and the teller accommodates his requests easily. Once he's done, he looks up over his shoulder at Randall. ] Your turn.

Ah, yes! Me too! I'd also like to open an account.

[ The conversation is a little more light-hearted with the teller as he fumbles for the envelope with all of his checks inside, passing them over with his identification papers. It goes smoothly, and within a handful of minutes, he's turning back to Heine and slotting his identification papers back into his satchel with his new account information, seeming rather pleased. ]

There we go, all done. Where to now?

[ Did Heine want to continue pushing himself, now, or should Randall? He hovers for a moment at his side to see what he'd like to do. ]

[ Where to... Heine shuffles his own belongings in his lap, new accounting book and papers folded up. ]

Groceries. [ He's vaguely aware of where the market is, and he knows that at this time of day it's bound to be busy. Really, he shouldn't even be going, but being stuck inside is even worse, so he'll compromise. ]

You'll have to—push the wheelchair. [ Heine looks back at the teller, asks for and receives directions, and then they're off! ] If you want anything at the market, just tell me.

Of course; not a problem. [ The market! His tail wags ferociously at the thought, taking hold of the wheelchair's handles and beginning to push without a second to spare, barely letting the teller finish his directions before he's pushing the door open with his back and pulling Heine out backwards to turn around and be on their way once more.

He's getting the hang of this.

Once they're outside again, in the fresh air and sunshine that's completely eaten away the fogbank, he strikes up the courage to ask. ]

Are you feeling all right? Was it hurting your back to work the chair?

[ It had seemed like it, the way the faintest beads of sweat had formed at his brow earlier and he turned grouchier than before. He didn't want to say anything at the time, giving him a chance to simmer back down. ]

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