For a while, the two of them simply sat there beneath the rusted awning while distant voices and laughter drifted through the junkyard.
Bran eventually lowered his paws from his face, though his ears still burned faintly from embarrassment.
Slade looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“You done hiding?”
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“Mhm.”
Bran shot him a look.
Slade only smiled lazily and stretched out a little more on the blanket, forelegs crossed comfortably. Up close, Bran could see the old scars threading through the Bernese’s thick fur more clearly now. One cut along his shoulder looked particularly nasty, disappearing beneath black curls.
His expression softened before he could stop it.
“…You’ve been in a lot of fights.”
Slade glanced down briefly.
“Comes with the territory.”
“That one doesn’t,” Bran murmured quietly, nodding toward the larger scar.
For the first time since they’d met, Slade grew still.
The teasing faded from his face—not entirely, but enough that Bran noticed immediately.
“Got that one a long time ago,” Slade said after a moment. “Before the junkyard.”
Bran listened quietly.
“I wasn’t always running this place,” Slade continued. “Used to belong somewhere else. Big property outside the city. Humans. Fence. Rules.” A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I was terrible at the rules.”
Bran huffed softly despite himself.
“Shocking.”
“I know. Hard to believe.”
The Bernese’s gaze drifted toward the distant stacks of scrap.
“One day I got too big. Too rough. Too much trouble.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “So they got rid of me.”
Bran’s ears lowered slightly.
Slade noticed immediately.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look sad for me.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Bran frowned but didn’t argue.
Slade’s voice remained calm, almost casual.
“Wasn’t all bad. I found this place eventually. Found the others.” A warm sort of pride entered his expression then. “Most of the dogs here didn’t have anywhere either.”
Bran glanced back toward the maze of scrap and lights.
The junkyard suddenly looked different to him.
Less like a den of criminals.
More like…something built together.
“You protect them,” Bran realized quietly.
Slade looked at him then, directly.
“Someone should.”
The simple honesty in his voice caught Bran off guard.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The city wind moved softly through the hanging wires overhead, carrying the distant scent of rain and rust. Bran felt some of the tension slowly leaving his body for the first time since he’d been captured.
Slade noticed.
“You relaxed,” the Bernese murmured.
“I did not.”
“You stopped looking for exits.”
Bran opened his mouth to deny it.
Then realized Slade was right.
“…Maybe a little.”
Slade’s expression melted into unmistakable satisfaction.
“There he is.”
Bran looked away quickly before his face could heat again.
Unfortunately, that didn’t help much when he suddenly felt Slade shift closer.
Not forceful.
Not trapping him.
Just close enough that Bran’s breath caught slightly.
“Slade—”
The Bernese paused, giving him every opportunity to pull away.
When Bran didn’t, Slade leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his muzzle.
It was brief.
Warm.
Surprisingly careful for someone so large.
Bran froze completely.
His brain seemed to short-circuit all at once.
When Slade pulled back slightly, amusement flickered in his eyes again.
“You look like I just struck you with lightning.”
Bran stared at him for another second before managing, “…I think you did.”
Slade laughed quietly.
The sound rumbled warmly through Bran’s chest in a way he absolutely did not want to think about.
“You okay?” Slade asked, softer now.
Bran hesitated.
Then, to his own horror, admitted honestly:
“…I....I liked that.”
Slade’s ears perked immediately.
“Oh?”
Bran groaned quietly.
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“Too late.”
“I mean it!”
The Bernese was openly grinning again now, though there was something gentler underneath it this time.
Bran fidgeted awkwardly with the edge of the blanket.
“It’s just…” He struggled for words. “Weird.”
“Weird?”
“I barely know you.”
That seemed to genuinely catch Slade’s attention.
Bran pushed onward before courage failed him.
“You’re nice to me and you keep flirting and—and now kissing me apparently—and I don’t even understand why.” His ears dipped lower. “I met you like an hour ago.”
Slade studied him quietly for a long moment.
Then he leaned back slightly, giving Bran a little more space.
Bran groaned softly. “Please stop calling me things.”
“No promises.”
For a moment, Slade simply watched him quietly, the earlier teasing softened into something gentler again.
Then the Bernese tilted his head slightly.
“Can I kiss you again?”
Bran blinked in surprise.
The question itself caught him off guard more than the flirting had.
“You’re…asking?”
Slade looked amused. “Shouldn’t I?”
“I just…” Bran fidgeted awkwardly with the blanket again. “I’m not a girl.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Slade’s expression softened immediately.
“I’m aware,” he said quietly.
Bran looked away, embarrassed now for an entirely different reason.
But then Slade continued:
“And that’s one of the things that makes you beautiful to me.”
Bran’s head snapped back toward him.
The Bernese looked completely sincere.
Which somehow made it worse.
Bran felt heat rush all the way to the tips of his ears as his heart started hammering wildly again.
“You really just say things like that naturally, huh?”
Slade grinned a little. “Usually only when I mean them.”
Bran huffed weakly, trying and failing to regain composure.
Slade waited patiently this time, giving him room to think.
“I’d still like to kiss you again,” the Bernese murmured after a moment.
Bran swallowed.
Part of him still insisted this entire situation was ridiculous. He’d met Slade only hours ago. The Bernese was huge, dangerous, shamelessly flirtatious, and ran a junkyard full of thieves and troublemakers.
And yet…
Bran hesitantly gave a small, slow nod.
Slade’s eyes warmed instantly.
The Bernese leaned in carefully, slow enough that Bran could still change his mind if he wanted to.
This kiss lasted longer.
Still gentle.
Still warm.
But steadier now, less of a surprise.
Bran slowly relaxed into it despite himself, his earlier nervousness softening into fluttering warmth somewhere deep in his chest. Slade’s thick fur brushed against him as the larger dog shifted closer, careful but confident.
Eventually Bran had to pull back suddenly just to catch his breath.
Slade let out a low chuckle at the sight of the collie staring at him wide-eyed and flustered all over again.
“You okay there?”
Bran pressed a paw briefly against his burning face.
“…I think so.”
Bran shook his head, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his muzzle now.
The junkyard gradually quieted around them as night deepened.
Voices faded.
Lights winked out one by one across the maze of scrap.
At some point Bran realized how exhausted he actually was. The adrenaline from earlier had long since faded, leaving only aching muscles and heavy eyelids behind.
Slade noticed immediately.
“You’re falling asleep sitting up.”
“I am not.”
The words were interrupted by a yawn.
Slade laughed softly.
“C’mere.”
Before Bran could protest, the Bernese settled down fully onto the blanket and gently tugged Bran closer with one massive foreleg.
Bran stiffened at first.
Then slowly relaxed as warmth surrounded him.
Slade’s thick coat was absurdly soft for someone so intimidating.
The Bernese curled around him naturally, broad chest against Bran’s back while one heavy foreleg rested protectively over him. Bran could feel the steady rhythm of Slade’s breathing, slow and calming in the quiet dark.
It felt…safe.
Strangely safe.
Bran’s eyes grew heavier by the second.
Behind him, Slade lowered his head and nuzzled gently into the fur at the back of Bran’s neck, keeping him tucked close and warm against the cool night air.
“Goodnight, collie boy,” the Bernese murmured sleepily.
Bran’s tail gave one faint, embarrassed twitch against the blanket.
