The assassin sighed, seated in his sleek car.
There was a slight tremble to his hands, curled tightly against the steering wheel. Too tight, he noticed, wincing as he forced his grip to relax, another sigh leaving him, more forcefully as if to exhale the tension he still felt in his back, in his legs, in his trigger finger. Slowly, he sagged back against his seat, hands still gripping the wheel. He'd parked, but he could still hear cars going by on the urban street.
The assassin was a wolf. A stark-white wolf, if one could believe it. Often when he first met a potential new client, they expressed surprise that he literally LOOKED like the common stereotype of a highly skilled assassin-for-hire. What could be a better hunter, a better killer, than a snowy-white wolf with sharp, almost ICY green-blue eyes, expression unreadable and entire body clearly under his control? It was wonderful for business; nobody who hired him had any doubts about his abilities being worth exactly as much as he demanded, and most with a grudge were too convinced of his nigh-invulnerability to try anything.
Muscular and sturdy, the broad-shouldered, thick-chested young wolf, little more than 34, had built up quite the reputation. Want something quiet? He could do it. Want something loud? He was your wolf. Want an entire rival crime family wiped out in one swift move? He'd have it done by dinner.
And there he was, sitting in his car, a dozen aches and stings, and half as many bullet wounds, still freshly burning all over. There was only so much one's reputation could accomplish when getting shot at by bodyguards.
He let out another sigh, his usually-placid face drooping into an exhausted frown, ears tilting down in exhaustion.
``Fuck... I'm so tired...'' he complained to nobody. He had to resist the urge to thump his head forward against the steering wheel; the four stinging claw-slashes across his belly would just hurt if he made a movement like that so soon after his mentors had patched him up.
Instead of slamming his head into the steering wheel, his cold eyes flicked over to the stereo system, a fancy touch screen with dials and buttons beneath it. Proudly presented on the screen was the time. He was getting a bit late... but he needed that time, needed to collect himself before he went in there and got what was his.
Too late, he realized, wincing, ears tilting lower if possible. Fuck.
Reluctantly, he tugged the keys out of the ignition, slipping them into his jacket pocket. Despite his expensive car and high-class occupation, he wore a simple pair of jeans, T-shirt with some old band logo on the front, and a sturdy jacket. Tucked under the shirt, just above his tail, he could feel his small pistol comfortably nestled in a conceal-carry holster.
Before he could hesitate and sit in the car trembling for another five minutes, the muscular white wolf popped open the car door and hopped out, boots clacking slightly against the sidewalk concrete. He rose, ignoring the slight quiver to his arm as he shoved the door shut, biting back a wince as the bullet wound to his bicep hindered the motion and sent a sharp ache all the way up to his neck.
``Fucker,'' he huffed near-silently, gritting his sharp teeth. He should have seen the pistol before his target had pulled it, noticed its shape under the guy's shirt or something. A stupid mistake.
Still, he locked the door and headed to the nearby stairs up to a small house front door. The wolf gulped, anxiety lancing him ever so briefly, before ascending. Once again, a wound acquired from his work nearly made him cry out, the knife-slash to his thigh burning despite the pain killers he'd downed. Just another scar soon, hopefully, but it made him growl softly at himself AND the stupid mongoose guy who'd drawn the knife and swiped it at him defensively. He?d cracked the guy's jaw with a fire extinguisher, so he'd gotten his payback.
Reaching the door, the wolf collected himself a moment.
Just like on the job; relax, limber up, breathe, don't get caught up in paranoia and a billion scenarios. Just focus on right then, and the goal.
He knocked.
The door swung open, a big-bellied, round-faced tiger stepping into view. The other man broke into a wide grin, his orange, white, and black fur scraggly and messy from a long day of work, a decidedly unmasculine pink apron draped over his front and reading `Baking Momma, Bacon Momma!'.
``Hyacinth! Good to see you,'' the tiger greeted, all bubbly smiles and warm, brown eyes.
The wolf, despite himself, smiled warmly back, cheeks slightly warm as he gazed at the handsome, slightly elder male. He held up a hand, ignoring the sting; it was the same arm he'd been shot in. ``H- Hey, Sebastian!'' he greeted back, tail wagging above his firm rump. Then, apologetically, he added, ``Ah, SO sorry I'm late again... It was a work day, and things just kept dragging on, and...''
``Oh, shush, it's fine, hon!'' the tiger chimed back, giggling slightly. He reached a pudgy paw out, snatching the wolf's other hand, and tugging him inside. ``Come in, come in! Rufus is just in the living room,'' Sebastian informed, pulling the taller man inside.
``If... If you say so,'' Hyacinth, the normally-composed, ice-cold killer wolf stammered, cheeks still warm and eyes slightly wide as he stepped inside. Not needing to be asked, he nudged the front door shut as he entered. ``Ah, you said Rufus is...?''
``In the living room,'' Sebastian chimed back, still smiling and still holding the younger, but larger, man's paw. He seemed to notice as he jabbed a thumb towards the doorway, but released his grip, tucking his hand into his pants' pocket in apparent embarrassment. Now it was the tiger's turn to blush... not that the wolf had stopped. ``Ah, I'll just go grab his bag from the kitchen! He helped me make some cookies, so I'm letting him take some home; make sure to have a few before he gobbles them all up, okay?''
``Heh, okay,'' Hyacinth nodded, lips turned up into a warm, narrow smile. Unlike the tiger's broad, toothy grins, all the wolf could manage was a slight curve to his thin mouth, but those who knew him knew that was a lot for him.
The tiger nodded, then turned and headed down the hall, into what was clearly the home's kitchen. The wolf, meanwhile, watched him go for a moment, eyes tilting low and gaze falling half-lidded as he definitely DIDN'T check out the chubby man's butt...
He shook his head sharply, grunting. ``Stop checking out the babysitter, Cin,'' he scolded himself quietly, turning to head through the nearby doorway into the living room. As he stepped through, he could hear the television playing some bouncy-tuned cartoon, calling softly, ``Rufus? You in here, pup?''
``Daddy!''
Bounding from the floor in front of the big, old television came a tiny wolf pup, leaping at the older wolf's middle. He nearly yelped as those skinny little arms wrapped around his waist, wincing back a cry of pain as the impact struck his claw-wounds.
He was fine, he was fine, he was FINE.
``Hey, Rufus!'' Hyacinth greeted lovingly, swiftly crouching down to give his young son a hug. The boy giggled, wrapping his arms instead around his dad's thickly-furred neck, pressing into him for a tight embrace. The white wolf chuckled, pressing right back despite the ache in his arm, patting the small pup on the back. ``Mm... Were you good for Bast, puppy?'' he asked warmly, nuzzling at the cub's flopped-over ear.
The cub leaned back. Though a fellow wolf, he didn't look much like his father; his fur was all red, brown, and gray, a layered pattern that left his small muzzle stark-white, pink nose and big, blue eyes standing out sharply against them.
``I was SUPER good today!'' the pup, Rufus, insisted, his little tail wagging. He bounced on his bare feet, letting out a giggle as he clung to his father's jacket. ``Some of the other boys got in trouble cuz they stole a girl's dolly, but I told Mister Bast where they stashed it. They got in trouble, hehe.''
``Oh?'' the older wolf asked softly, nodding at the boy's little tale. And, with all its thumping on the nearby couch, his little tail too. Then, voice drifting slightly, he continued, ``Hope they don't intend to retaliate; get a group of proud guys together, wrong them, and they might try to get back at you. You should attempt to secure your position with a stronger ally, stock up on potential bribe material, and dig in tight, keep an eye on them to see what they attempt to do...''
The cub blinked, then let out a laugh, throwing his little head back. ``Haha! You're silly, Daddy,'' the boy chimed, smiling up at his dad. The older wolf chuckled, embarrassed.
``Here's the bag!''
Hyacinth looked up towards the other doorway out of the small living room, where Sebastian had entered. In his hands was a green and white backpack, some cartoon character printed on the back that the man held forward.
``Thanks, Mister Bast!'' the pup thanked immediately, turning to face the man. He held out his little hands for the bag, fingers making a slightly `grabby' gesture. The chubby tiger chuckled at that, holding the bag out for the boy. Deftly, the cub slipped one paw through a shoulder strap, twisting on his bare little feet to tuck the other through, slipping the bag on and letting it drop onto his shoulders.
``Heh, atta boy,'' Sebastian praised, patting the little tail-wagging wolf pup on the head. Looking up to Hyacinth, still crouched down at his son's level, he chimed, ``I put two baggies of those cookies in his bag.''
``Yay! Cookies!'' the pup cheered eagerly.
``No eating all of them in one go,'' Hyacinth reminded, pointing a finger at the pup. He responded with a pout, eyes wide and pleading. ``And none of that puppydog face stuff,'' he added, half sounding like a scolding, but smiling and unable to help a laugh.
``Make sure to let your dad have some, Rufus,'' Sebastian added, leaning over the cub, who craned his neck upwards to meet the feline's gaze. ``We made them for HIM, rememberrrrr?''
``I `member,'' the little pup agreed, nodding his head. Then, to his father, he insisted, ``We made some for you too, Daddy! Mister Bast said you'll like them.''
``I'm sure I will,'' the wolf dad agreed, finally standing, setting a paw on his hip. He held the other out for the boy, who diligently stepped forward and grabbed the big, slightly shaky hand in both of his tiny paws. He smiled at the cub, who shifted over to stand at his side patiently, before looking up at the teacher. ``Thanks again, Bast, for taking him after daycare ended today,'' he said, cheeks growing warm as he looked at the handsome, plump tiger.
``Aw, it's really no problem, Cin,'' Sebastian said, stepping forward to close the distance that had opened between them. He set a pudgy paw on the other man's forearm, smiling warmly and matching the wolf's blush with his own. ``I'm always happy to have that pup of yours around... Especially when it means you come around now and then, heh!''
Hyacinth smiled back, his cheeks growing warm and ears burning slightly. ``Th- That's... I mean, thank you, Bast,'' he finally said, reflexively slipping his free hand forward to set against the chubby male's middle, grazing his apron-covered belly. ``I... don't know WHAT I'd do if you weren't so happy to watch Rufus for so long...''
The tiger chuckled, squeezing the taller man's forearm lightly. ``I wouldn't have gotten into childcare if I didn't like spending time with cubs, silly,'' he informed.
Briefly, Hyacinth wondered if he felt the same about his own profession. Did he... like what he did? The kinds of people he interacted with, the kinds of things that he did? Sure, the money was GREAT, and meant he only had to really `work' as hard as he had that day maybe once a week. But...
Well, he supposed he did like it. It in his own way.
``I... know what you mean,'' the white wolf agreed. That made the tiger smile a bit wider, his toothy grin and fond gaze locked on the taller man's sharp-featured face.
Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, but...
``Daddy?'' Rufus chimed from below the two men's gaze. They both looked at the boy, who wiggled on his paws. ``Um... C- Can we get O'Ronalds for dinner? I was really good, and you said if I'm really good I might get to pick...''
Both adults let out a soft huff of a laugh, Sebastian stepping back slightly to break their mutual contact. The older wolf reached his now-freed hand over to pat the cub on the head, assuring, ``Yeah, buddy, we can get O'Ronalds.
``Bye, again, Bast. It was... good seeing you,'' he said to the tiger, nodding at the man.
``Heh,'' the chubby male smiled back, before winking suggestively and near-urring, ``Always good to see you, Cin. Wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of you, to be honest, hehe...''
The older wolf blinked, his cheeks red through his white fur. ``Th- Thanks, uh, I mean, same to you... Er, I should go,'' he stammered out, wincing at the awkward rush of words that left his lips, his typical composure completely gone. ``... Rufus, put your shoes back on.''
After the cub had donned his sneakers, he and his father left the home, offering one last farewell to the tiger as he stood in the open doorway. After the two descended the stairs hand-in-hand, Sebastian shut the door, father and son heading towards the sleek car parked nearby. The pup, tail wagging, went for the back seat, tugging open the door and clambering up into his booster seat, the 4-year-old cub diligently waiting as his father leaned down to buckle him in. The cub's backpack had been tossed in ahead of him, slumping over sideways in the open seat next to him.
As Hyacinth leaned down to ensure his son was secure in his seat, his face was still red, the older man's usually-composed tail wagging behind him. Sebastian had... FLIRTED with him. That slight purr to his voice had sent a tingle down the ice-cold killer's spine.
... And he'd COMPLETELY flubbed any kind of reply.
He winced, and not just because bending over made one of a dozen wounds flare up. He'd... come up with something clever and charming to say to the tiger next time.
