Fic: Howl (Comfortember)

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Howl
Chapters: 1/1
Author:csi_sanders1129
Genre: Family. Fluff. H/C
Ratings: K+
Word Count: 1558
Pairings/Characters: Connor Temple/Hilary Becker, ARC Team
Synopsis: Connor knows he shouldn’t step in, that this creature that fell out of the latest anomaly is likely a lost cause but it lets out a tiny, pathetic whimper and he can’t bring himself to give up on it. "Please?"

Becker sighs, relents with an exasperated, “fine, you can keep it.”
Comments: Written for Comfortember 2020, Prompt: Kisses. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!

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"No."

"But-"

"No!"

Connor frowns. The thing is bloody and half-dead, wrapped up in Connor's hoodie. He knows he shouldn't step in, that this creature that fell out of the latest anomaly is likely a lost cause (and, if it isn't, he knows that it doesn't belong here, at least hundred thousand years after it existed) but it lets out a tiny, pathetic whimper and he can't bring himself to give up on it.

"Please," he tries again, facing Becker down with puppy dog eyes in what is perhaps an unfair tactic.

He knows Becker is thinking of Rex and of Sid and Nancy and all the trouble they've caused the ARC team over the years. He knows Becker is thinking of the menagerie and of the Dracorex's escape, weighing the pros and cons of taking in another animal and all the flak he'll take from Lester for doing so. Finally, he sighs, relents with an exasperated, "fine, you can keep it."

Connor leaves Becker to oversee the closing of the anomaly and rushes back to the SUV where he can get a better look at the creature he's just rescued in better lighting.

"Don't worry, little buddy," he tells his newest charge, "I've got you."

Upon closer inspection, and a few quick consults with his research programs to verify, he determines that the creature is likely a newborn canismosbachensis, or Mosbach wolf, generally accepted as an early ancestor of the modern gray wolf, that dates to the Middle Pleistocene era. If Connor had to guess, he'd say that the pup had been snatched from its den not long after he had been born, but that the anomaly had scared off whatever had taken him, and he squirmed through by chance.

A moment later and Becker climbs in beside him, ready to head back to the ARC now that the anomaly is secure and under guard. He looks from Connor to the poor creature wrapped up in his arms, "You're telling Lester about this," he decides, which is a price Connor will happily pay – he's good at talking Lester into things. Not as good as he is at talking Becker into things, but certainly compelling enough for this.

Back at the ARC, he heads toward the menagerie. He says a quick hello to Rex and sets to work. He cleans the puppy up so he can figure out just how bad off he is. Turns out a lot of the blood on the tiny creature isn't his own. Chances are whatever littermates he had didn't get away from whatever attacked. When he's as clean as he's going to get, he finds bite marks from some other predator. It also seems as though there's been damage to one of the pup's eyes, still closed, and a gash ripped through an ear. He enlists Abby's help in dealing with those injuries and she walks him through figuring out how to care for the puppy over the next few days. She helps him work out (to the best of their abilities, at least, given that Mosbach wolves have been extinct for well over a hundred thousand years) a suitable formula to feed the pup, dosages for pain medications and antibiotics, along with ideal temperatures and schedules.

When it's time to head home, Becker meets him. He looks not at all surprised to find that Connor still has the puppy. "I had a feeling we'd be taking it home with us," he says, taking the bag of supplies off of him so he can more easily hold the pup. Becker smiles fondly at the other man and his willingness to help whenever possible, "Let's go."

Connor's awake with the puppy all night, feeding him and cleaning him, making sure he's warm enough without his siblings to snuggle with and that his wounds are still securely bandaged. After his second time slipping out of bed, he opts to sleep on the couch, the puppy settled on his chest, to avoid disturbing Becker's sleep any further.

Every hour he's up and checking on the pup, woken by increasingly persistent alarms as the night wears on. Only, at some point, the alarms stop. He wakes, feeling more rested than he rightly should, and finds Becker there holding the puppy.

"Figured I'd give you a break," he says, coaxing he puppy to take the formula Abby crafted. "You get some rest, I've got this shift."

Connor offers a dopey, sleepy smile and drops his head back down.

By the time the pup opens his eyes (or, eye, rather, as they didn't quite manage to save the injured one) two and half weeks later, the wounds have healed up nicely. They're getting ready to start weaning him off the bottle feedings and onto solid food, but they're not quite there yet.

Connor's taken to bringing the pup with him to work, unless he's out in the field, in which case he leaves him in Abby's capable hands, and he loves snuggling into the pockets of Connor's hoodies while he's working away on updates for the Anomaly Detection Device.

"Hey, I'm going with Matt on a call out," Becker stops in to tell him, late one afternoon. "Meet you at home? I'll pick up dinner," he asks, sure that he'll be back well after Connor leaves for the day.

"Yeah," Connor agrees, when there comes a squeaky little 'aroooooorroo' from his sweatshirt. They both look down to see the pup poke his tiny head out and offer another howl. Connor plucks him out of the sweatshirt, laughing, and Becker gives the pups ears a scratch.

"Don't worry, buddy, you'll get dinner, too."

Two months in and the pup is an unruly ball of energy. He sets up a pen at his workstation (and is utterly amazed Lester has not yet commented on this decision) to keep the insanity relatively contained, but occasionally, he still ends up squirming into Connor's lap while he works on his inventions, sleeping soundly there.

Becker and Danny are off dealing with an anomaly when Connor gets the call. It's unusual enough that something actually managed to get out before the ARC crew arrived to the anomaly site, but when Danny radios in a description of a gigantic forty foot long snake that has to be a freaking Titanoboa from the late Paleocene era, he's more than a little alarmed by the news. He's even more alarmed when he learns that Becker got flung twenty feet by the thing and only narrowly avoided getting crushed to death. Just as they're all gearing up to go provide backup for what's sure to be one hell of a fight, they get word that the snake opted to return to its own era.

The anomaly is closed. Danny brings Becker back to base in more or less one piece.

Lester sends him off to medbay, just to be sure, and Connor finds him there with a diagnosis of three broken ribs and a mild concussion.

Becker's quick to pull Connor into his arms, relieved that he got the chance to do so again. It's always a risk, the anomalies, even if they don't go through them anymore. "I'm okay," he promises, "I've taken harder hits giving Sid and Nancy a bath."

While patently untrue (Sid only broke one rib, thank you very much) Connor appreciates the attempt.

'Rooooooo,' comes the slightly less absurd howl from the pup trailing at Connor's feet. The pup hops up on Becker's lap and proceeds to slather Becker's face with happy puppy kisses, which he accepts eagerly.

"Looks like someone else is glad you're okay, too," Connor says, wrangling the pup back to ground level when Becker's laughter proves painful. Still, he accepts the happy Connor kisses, too.

Nine months in and the pup isn't a pup anymore, but a surprisingly obedient sixty pound prehistoric wolfdog with a soft spot for the humans of the ARC, Connor and Becker in particular. It had taken considerable effort to convince Lester that the pup, eventually dubbed Moby, didn't need to stay in the menagerie, but against all odds they managed and now he's something like the ARC's unofficial office dog, lounging around by various workstations (usually Connor's) and asking for pets from anyone he finds willing to give them.

Still, he comes home with Connor and Becker at the end of the day (much to the general alarm of the neighbors) and happily requests cuddles at all available opportunities. This, however, causes some problems.

There are a few complications, however:

"No."

"But-"

"No!"

"Please," Connor says, feeling vaguely like they've had this conversation before. He does not need to resort to puppy dog eyes this time, though, because Moby handles that himself, whining pitifully and resting his head on Becker's leg, tail wagging a slow back and forth.

"You two are impossible," Becker caves nearly instantly, waving for their not-dog to join them on the couch, shoving his way between the two of them and leaning heavily against Connor's side. He offers a lick of thanks to Becker's face and settles in. "You're both lucky I love you."

Connor laughs, drapes his arm over Becker's shoulder on the back of the couch and flicks through the television channels until they find something they both like. "Yeah, well, we love you, too."

'Rooo,' Moby agrees.