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Max gave a loud yawn as he checked his watch. It was about 5 minutes to closing and he felt like collapsing on the couch in the lobby. Martin called him to his office, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. He'd already knocked about seven times, so he just decided to wait outside until he popped up. Suddenly, the door swung open and Martin pulled Max inside.

“Were you inside the whole time?"

“No, I used my secret entrance but that's not why I called you here Bruce." Martin moved behind his desk.

“What are you calling me in here for? Am I not doing a satisfactory job?"

“You are, but I need to check your pocket watch."

“My… pocket watch?" Bruce scratched his horn.

“Yes, your pocket watch."

“Ok?" Bruce pulled the metallic timekeeper from his pocket and handed it to Martin.

Martin looked it up and down then opened it to check inside. “I wanted to be sure but it's just as I thought. Your emotions are affecting your Ultimate Skill."

“What does that mean?"

“Well, normally when you use your skill your sons are supposed to obey without question, but it seems your emotions are affecting your Authoritative Voice."

“But I'm fine Martin." Bruce's voice wavered.

“I'm very sure you're not." Martin swung the watch in front of him. “I'm tightly linked to these things so if you're not performing at 100%, I'll be the first to know. I am the one who gave you the power, after all."

“Well if it's such a big deal you can have it back for all I care," Bruce huffed.

“Can we talk about what's bugging you? You're usually not like this." Martin held out the watch.

“I'd prefer not to." Bruce snatched the watch back and placed it in his pocket. “I said I'm fine."

“You're so hard-headed."

“Takes one to know one, Thomas!" Bruce shouted, suddenly realizing what he'd just said. “I'm so sorry, Martin."

Martin stepped back, hands raised. “Touched a nerve there. My bad. If you change your mind, I'll be here. Please remember that."

Bruce took a deep breath and bowed. “Thank you, Martin." He turned on his heel and opened the door. “One of these days I might take you up on that."

“Anytime, pops."

Max walked out the back of the café towards the street. He fiddled with his pocket watch idly. He never really understood the power in theory, but he knew if he asked someone younger than him to do something, they did it no questions asked. He assumed he was controlling his emotions well enough as everyone he'd given a command still followed it to his most precise instruction. Maybe some took a bit longer than others, but it still worked.

How were his emotions linked to a silly watch? There was no way Martin could know he was distracted. Yeah, he'd probably just heard from one of the other dads and he was trying to trick him.

It wasn't until he had gotten two blocks away that he'd remembered he was wearing his butler suit. He had no idea how he forgot to forget to take off his uniform. His legs hurt enough already and his neck was throbbing. He decided he would just pick up his clothes tomorrow and kept on his way home.

A rogue bark grabbed his attention and he swiftly turned to the alley he was walking past. Three Dalmatians had a Shiba Inu cornered with the biggest one holding him up by his shirt collar.

“Last chance. Give us your shit and you can walk away alive," The Dalmatian said.

“You can lick my sack, you floppy-eared fuck," The Shiba coughed out, then spat blood in the Dalmatian's face.

A swift right hook into his stomach from one of the others elicited more coughs from the smaller dog.

Bruce went to speak, but his voice seemed to dissipate as it left his mouth. He went to scream, but nothing came out. He could feel the energy that usually came from the watch closing his throat. He couldn't fathom why the watch would work against him now.

Time seemed to slow as a voice pinged inside his head.

BRUCE! NUT UP AND SAVE HIM!

Thomas!? Is that you?!

“You asked for it, little bitch." The lead Dalmatian reared his fist back.

A single tear dropped from the shiba's cheek. Bruce clenched his fist and stomped his foot.

DO IT, BRUCE!

“STOP!" His voice carried farther than it'd ever had. The three assailants all froze in place.

“I… I can't move…"

“PUT. HIM. DOWN." Bruce growled and the Shiba hit the floor, gasping for air. “NOW SCRAM!"

The Dalmatians took off in the opposite direction, leaving Bruce and their target alone. Bruce carefully walked over to the Shiba and knelt, holding out his handkerchief.

“You ok, kid?"

“I could've taken them, but I appreciate the help." He accepted the offering and wiped his mouth clean before standing up on shaky legs. He barely reached Bruce's waist in height.

“Anything broken?"

“Only my pride, but I'll bounce back. They just knocked me around a bit."

“You got some fight, I'll give you that, but they definitely had you."

“Don't give me that shit! They caught me off guard. I would've had them if-“ He passed out into Bruce's side before he could finish his sentence.

“Shit, kid! You ok? Kid? Kid, speak up!" But he got no response other than a rise of the Shiba's chest. “Little guy must've used all his strength before I got here. I don't even know where he lives. Shit…"

He checked his pockets for his wallet with no success. He looked around the alley and saw the wallet two feet from them near a trash can. Opening it up he found the guy's ID.

“Kipper Gradmore, huh. Cute name. Where does he live…?" He scanned the ID for his address. “Herndale Heights?! That's an hour away by car! Screw that."

Bruce carried Kipper to his house. The walk there was quiet with only the slow breaths of his travel companion to tell him he was still alive. On the bright side, aside from a few bruises, he seemed ok.

His night had shifted so quickly in just a few seconds. And that voice a minute ago sounded very familiar to him. Speaking of, he jotted down in his phone to get some flowers for tomorrow.

Once inside, he laid Kipper on his couch and went to get an ice pack, some blankets, and a pillow. He procured all the items and went back to meet his house guest where he found him up and rubbing his head.

“H-hey… where am I?"

“My house. You passed out and your house is pretty damn far from here." Bruce handed him the ice pack.

Kipper put it to his chest and winced. “You know, you could've just called me a cab."

“You got cab money?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, you got me there…"

“For now, just get some rest."

“Where? Here? Your bed not big enough for two? I'm sure a guy your size has at least a king if not a guest room for me."

Bruce was visibly confused. He had a nice enough couch. “I got you a blanket and a pillow and I'm not one to just share my bed. “

“Well, I'm a guest so I should take the bed. If you wanna break your back on the couch, you do you." Kipper moved towards the bedroom.

Bruce picked him up and placed him back on the couch. “You're a mouthy pup, aren't you?"

“And you're being difficult, Max."

“Actually, it's Bruce."

“Then why does your name tag say Max? Secret identity or some shit?" Kipper pointed at his chest where the nametag in question shone.

“Yes and no. Boy do you have a mouth on you."

“My mouth does a lot of things." Kipper wiggled his tongue and gave Bruce a wink.

“I could make you walk home, you know."

“After the shit that went down? No way would you do that. I know your M.O."

“Oh do you now?"

“Yeah. You save the guy from danger and take him back to your place for a reward. Frankly, I'm surprised you're not throwing me on your bed and having your merry little way with me," Kipper smirked. “Maybe I was wrong about you."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

“I've heard things about the Good Boyz Café from a friend of mine. Just my luck that one of the Five Fathers saves me when I needed him most. Probably got a rod on you like a steel pipe."

Bruce stood up and shook his head. “I'm not doing this tonight. You, couch. Me, bed."

He stalked to his room, just wanting to get some sleep. The nerve of that kid insinuating such things from him…

C'mon, Bruce. It is pretty big though… I sure had trouble our first time.

He looked left and right for the voice and found nothing. He shook his head and kept moving towards his room.

As he pushed the door open, Kipper slipped inside and hopped onto the bed. He adjusted himself and sat on the edge, testing the springs.

“Man, this is cushy. Must be Tempur Pedic or some shit."

“Didn't you hear me? I said you take the couch." He could feel his power vibrating on his skin, but the Shiba continued to sit on his bed.

“And I told you I'm not fucking my back up so you can hog this huge ass bed."

“What's your deal?"

“You're the one that decided to bring me here. I'm not sleeping on the couch. What's it gonna be, grandpa?"

Bruce picked him up and rolled him out the door, closing and locking it behind him.

“Let me in! Let me iiiiiiiin!" Kipper banged on the door.

Bruce had never seen such an uppity brat in his life and this guy was old enough to drink.

He entered his connected bathroom to take a quick shower and brush his teeth. The banging continued throughout Bruce's shower time, yet suddenly stopped when he got out. He figured the kid had decided to take the couch with dignity and went on brushing his teeth.

You would've let ME in the bed with you, Hard Head~

“You may be the only one." He idly replied, then froze. “Thomas, are you there?"

“Who's Thomas?" Kipper asked from next to him.

Bruce jumped back. “H-how'd you get in here?!"

“Picked the lock. Your study has a surprising amount of bobby pins." Kipper hopped up on the sink and grabbed the mouthwash.

“You're not sleeping with me."

Kipper spat out the mouthwash, then replied, “Then you're sleeping on the couch, big boy."

Nothing he could think of would get the dog out of his bed and he was running on E in the thought department.

“I sleep naked." Bruce adjusted his towel.

“Something we have in common."

The two re-entered the bedroom and Kipper slid his shorts off and tunneled under the sheets.

“I could crush you in my sleep."

“You could try." Kipper wiggled his eyebrows.

“Not scared of sleeping with what you assume is a male escort?"

“I happen to like men and if you were to try anything, who's to say I wouldn't like or want it?" The Shiba took his shirt off, twirling it on his finger.

“What even are you?"

“Your worst nightmare. Now hop in or I'll take the middle." Kipper flung his shirt, lading it on Bruce's horn.

Bruce removed the shirt from his face and dropped his towel, utterly defeated. “You're a brat."

“And you're sexy. Get in."

Bruce slid in under the covers and turned away from the Shiba. “Good night, Kipper."

“It's Kip. I prefer Kip."

“Well, Good night Kip."

“Night, Bruce." Kip turned and drifted off as well.

Bruce thought he'd struggle to fall asleep with the 'intruder' in his bed but he surprisingly fell asleep faster than usual. He didn't recall having any night terrors either. What he did recall was pleasant warmth that gripped his left arm at some point and stayed there for the rest of the night.

He woke up extremely well-rested. He stretched out and felt a few bones he forgot existed pop into place. Looking to his left he noticed that Kip wasn't there: only his Shiba sized dent. Checking the room, he saw that Kip's clothes were gone as well. And he'd have believed the small dog had left if not for the sudden smell of bacon that assaulted his nose.

He slid on his pants and slippers and carefully walked into the kitchen. He peeped around the corner and saw Kip closing the fridge and moving back towards the stove. Why was he still here? Didn't he have anything better to do?

Kip seemed to move methodically as he grabbed pots and pans from heights thought too high for him with well-placed jumps and careful choreography. Bruce smirked and stood in an out of the way corner as Kip stood on a bar stool stirring the eggs and flipping the bacon.

Kip's ear twitched and he turned to where Bruce was. “Umm… how long have you been standing there?"

“Long enough. By the way, the bread is in the box to your right."

“Who uses a bread box? What are you, 70?" Kip quipped as he threw a few pieces of bread into the toaster.

“42 and counting, youngster."

“I'm 27. Hardly young anymore."

“Aww, that's cute. You think you're grown." Bruce held his hands to his face and smiled at Kip with an intense air of condescendence.

“Just sit down and get ready for the best meal of your damn life."

Bruce sat and watched the Shiba move from wall to wall in his kitchen getting everything he'd cooked on a plate. He noticed that as Kip moved, he put things in the sink and washed certain dishes as he went. Bruce had no idea the vulgar pup he'd saved last night could be so thoughtful.

He sipped at the cup of coffee Kip set there earlier and hummed at the delicious taste that filled his chest. Kip then placed a nicely stacked plate of buttered toast and an omelet in front of him while he took a similar place with all the sausage and bacon for himself.

“Gonna slide me any of those?"

“I thought you were a herbivore," Kip smirked.

“Well, you said it yourself last night that I'm a sausage gobbler." He took a few pieces of bacon and sausage and added them to his plate.

“Well go on. Try it." Kip crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, not as impressively as he'd hoped since Bruce could barely see him.

Bruce cut a piece of the omelet and watched some cheeses drizzle from inside of it. He brought the fork to his mouth took a bite. A rush of flavors hit him all at once. Creamy, sweet, savory, and fresh were definitely at the forefront. His eyes bulged and he had to take another bite. And another. And maybe one more for posterity.

“Awestruck at my amazing talents?"

“How did you- What did you use?"

“Ah ah ah~ A magician never reveals his secrets."

“Are you a chef?"

Kip's confidence waned. He turned away from the table. “I use to be. I don't wanna talk about it."

“Either way you're still very talented."

“You don't need to stroke my ego. I got a dick you could stroke instead."

“I'll pass, kid." Bruce rolled his eyes and kept eating.

“Whaaaat? I thought that was your whole thing?"

“I think you misunderstand what it is I do exactly."

“Don't you put on the charms for guys who want a 'daddy uwu' and make them spend their cash by throwing it back?"

“No… well some of my coworkers do, but that's not all of us. Most of us are very respectful of the sons that come through the café."

“That too. That 'son' shit. I never got that either. I already got daddy issues, why would I want a new dad just to exacerbate them?"

Bruce's face scrunched up tight. He's had people judge what he does before, but this felt different. “Wow, you are some brand of fucked up, kid."

“Well, it takes one to know one. What's your story, hornball?"

“What do you mean?"

Kip put his fork down and began, “You live in this house all by yourself and only seem to have one bed. It's not a small house either. Has to be at least 2-3 bedrooms. What's a guy like you holding onto all this for when a one-bedroom apartment would serve you just as well?"

“That's none of your business." Bruce looked down at his food.

“So we're both just not gonna say anything about our pasts I see. Such a hard head." Kip went back to eating.

“What did you say?" Bruce's eyes bulged slightly and he turned his attention to Kip.

“I said you're a hard head." A faint echo of another man pushed over Kip's voice. Bruce could see the silhouette of a wolf floating over Kip eating his food. He shook his head and his vision cleared again.

“This was a great breakfast, but I think you should leave soon." Bruce stood up and put a napkin over his food.

“What?"

“I said once you're done, please leave."

“Wait, did I offend you? I mean I'm sure I said worse shit yesterday." Kip stood up and moved to touch Bruce but he held his hand in front of the Shiba. “I was just messin' I didn't mean to-"

“Please just… I gotta go."

Bruce went back to his room and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked to the place where Kip had slept and could still see his tiny dent in the mattress. He waited until he heard the door open, then close before he went back to the kitchen. He saw that Kip had left him a note on the counter. His number was written on the bottom.

Dear Bruce, I know you didn't have to but thanks for saving me last night. I know I come off as very rude and shit but I'm not one to forget when someone treats me right. Call me later so I can properly thank you for everything. P.S. I'm sorry for making fun of your job. I'm sure if you were my dad I wouldn't be so fucked.

Bruce put the note back on the counter and sighed. He clutched his chest as a sharp pang hit him. The pain faded as soon as it came. Looking at the time, he dashed back to his room to get dressed.

Now clad in a burgundy sweater, blue jeans, and New Balance sneakers, he made his way out the door and to a flower shop. A dozen roses and a few blocks later, Bruce slowly walked up a hill and stopped at the top.

“Hey, Thomas. It's me again. I've been thinking about you just a little more than usual and I think it's been messing with how I perform at work. Sometimes it's like I can still hear your voice. It's not your fault. It was never your fault. Maybe one day I'll be able to say it wasn't mine… but I don't know how true that is."

He kneeled and looked at the flowers he was holding. “I saved this guy yesterday. He reminded me of you in a way. Headstrong, vocal about what he wants, and pretty cute if I'm being honest. Although he was quite shorter than you," Bruce chuckled to himself, then continued, “I just want you to know that I'll never forget you and you'll always be with me. I hope you always remember that."

Bruce placed the roses under the tree and stood up. “Happy Birthday, Thomas. I love you."