Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The match burst into flames as Butch struck it on his teeth, throwing it into the firebox with soot-coated paws as he leant back and watched the coals begin to ignite, filling up his lungs with that sharp, familiar scent of coal as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. As the fireman, his job was to keep the fire fed and maintained-- the fire should be started by the firelighter, who was also responsible for things like cleaning the grills, clearing the ashpan, refilling the boiler… All things Butch was made to do. He’d been in a sort of limbo between the two jobs ever since he’d gotten promoted about five years ago, and all his coworkers still treated him like the low-ranking firelighter he used to be anyway. He might as well’ve not even gotten a promotion, even then the station master tells him he needs to count himself lucky he ever gave him a promotion at all. 

Butch’s folded black ears pricked as he heard the crunch of gravel from beneath the train, soon met with Fang’s smiling face as the blue-uniformed wolf jumped up onto the cab. As stoic as Butch liked to be, today his friend sported a contagious toothy grin, and the aproned dog couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“What’s gotten you all smiley today?” Butch asked with a chuckle.

“...I have something I want to tell you.” The wolf announced, his smile widening as his grip tightened on the doorway.

“I think I could tell.” Butch teased.

“Could you?” Fang chuckled softly, shuffling in place a little as a blush grew on his cheeks. “Well...I’m in love.” He admitted with a grin.

Butch’s heart stopped for a beat-- he’d never imagined the free-spirited wolf tied down over a woman like this-- but for the sake of his best friend, he swallowed down his shock and chuckled proudly. “Fang? The hard-hearted, flint-witted, stone-faced grey wolf? In love?”  

“Yes! And I’ve already proposed… We’re to be wed in April.” Fang added excitedly, his normally stern voice warmed with content. With a hearty chuckle Butch leapt from the iron floor, throwing his strong arms around his friend as they both chuckled into each other’s fur, their tails wagging in sync. Butch pulled away, revealing a now soot-covered Fang. 

“I’m so proud of you, brother! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Whitney.” Fang beamed, just the sound of her name bringing a smile to his hardened face.

Butch tensed, trying not to lose his smile. That name… He could've sworn he’d heard it before. That should’ve made him even more excited, right? But the uncertainty he’d ignored before was beginning to claw its way back up his throat, drying his mouth. Whitney, Whitney… Right, she was the beloved daughter of the Blanches , the rich family living in that hilltop mansion in the next town over. As much as he loved Fang, he couldn’t help but feel… That she was a little out of his league? Were her parents really going to accept a working class man like him as their new son?

Noticing his best friend’s silence, Fang’s ears drooped and he began shuffling in place again. “I, uh… Yeah. I think you might’ve caught onto this, but…” He paused, scratching the silvery fur on the back of his neck as he tried to get the words out. “I’m leaving. I’m going to work for her parents’ company.”

Butch’s tail slowed to a cautious sway as he took in his friend’s words. “You’re… Leaving me?” He mumbled, his harsh voice practically just a rumble at this volume. 

“H-hey, buddy-- I’m…” Fang stammered, leaning forward to put a comforting hand on Butch’s shoulder. Fang was his only friend, the only one who actually saw Butch as a person, and not just a walking embodiment of his financial background. Working with Fang was the only thing that made dealing with the others all worth it-- It made working with some of his asshole coworkers bearable when he knew that eventually he’d be paired up with his best friend again. What was he going to do without him? 

“I’m sorry.” Fang continued, Butch avoiding his gaze. “It was a really hard decision. I mean, engineering is my whole life! And, well… So are you. But…” He paused, looking down to wipe the sweat from his paw, his voice steadying out again. “...I really wanted this. I want to get married, start a family… Have kids. The two just didn’t work together… I hope you understand.”

“N-no, I do. I really do.” Butch said, stepping out of Fang’s reach. 

Deep down, Butch wanted to fall in love too, but he knew that no woman would ever want to be with someone like him. A dirt-poor cynic, coarsened, unloving, unlovable. Whatever, he could never picture himself with a woman anyway-- he never understood why men loved them so much. The best he could do was let his friend live the life he couldn’t have. He turned to the control board, resting his arms on the edge of it with a sigh as he slumped down onto his soot-stained sleeves. 

Glancing up from the coal-scented cotton, he looked up at the dials and metres of the control board, noticing how their bronze coats and trims glistened in the daylight streaming through the glassless window. He imagined what it’d be like to work them, to be an engineer as he’d always dreamed-- to live the life that his best friend was leaving behind. They all felt so much larger than him, so close to his face like this, unreachable. 

“But hey, look at the bright side,” Fang started, joining Butch by the control board as he rested his elbow beside him. “There’s going to be a new opening for engineer.” 

The rottweiler’s ears perked and he looked up at his friend, eyes sparkling. “You really think…?”

“Of course, bud! You’re the most suited to the job.” The wolf reassured, shaking Butch with a single paw placed onto his back. “You’ve been working here since you were a kid-- you know all the ins and outs of how to operate one of these things, and you know every railway as if it were the back of your hand!” 

Butch snorted humbly. It was true, these tracks were all he’d ever known. Whenever he’d needed to get away from his parents, he’d come straight here, walking along the railroads and sneaking onto the trains in the shed-- it’s how the station master found him. Impressed by the pup’s extensive knowledge of the trains and their routes, he let him work here as a firelighter. Earning that first penny was Butch’s proudest moment, and once he realised that he could provide for himself, he never looked back. 

The station master made it seem like even giving him the role of firelighter was a massive favour, was he really going to give him the most important job there was now? No , Fang was right. He really was the most suited to the job. Butch’s tail began to wag at the thought. I’m gonna be an engineer.

Fang reached over again to give him a hardy pat on the back. “Well, have fun buddy.” 

As the wolf turned to the door, Butch picked up his head, whipping it in his friend’s direction. “Leaving so soon?” He asked, the uniformed silhouette stopping in the doorway. 

“Oh… Come on, Butch. You know I’m no good at goodbyes.” Fang responded, scratching the back of his neck again. 

“Whoever said you had to go?” Butch chuckled, receiving a grin from Fang as he turned back around and gave his friend a playful tackle. 

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, screwing Butch’s black cap into his fur. “I can stay a little while.” 

Chapter Text

Butch cleared his throat and adjusted the cap on his head, making sure to stand up straight and hold his tail high. Right now, he was stood in front of the station master’s door, getting ready to accept the promotion of his dreams-- and by God he was going to make sure this moment went perfectly.  

Sure, the master had shown a… lack of respect for Butch in the past, but he was almost like a second father to him. He’d taken him in and given him a job when he was just a little pup, giving him escape from his terrible family as well as mentorship and guidance throughout his time on the rails. And, like Fang had said the day before, he was the most suited to the job. It was a no-brainer as to who the master would be giving the promotion to. 

So, with his tail swaying in an uncharacteristic fashion for the normally-self-controlled dog, Butch placed his paw onto the looming, glossy wooden door in front of him, quickly withdrawing before he could push it open. With a nervous shuffle of his paws, he reached out again, deciding to deliver a series of firm knocks onto the door. 

“Yes? Come in.” A small voice called absent-mindedly from the inside. 

Filling up his lungs, Butch pushed the heavy door open and peered into the room, catching sight of the small, cheese-coloured mouse on the inside, pensively toying with a model train set on top of a square mahogany table as he stood proudly atop of a matching stool, dressed smartly in sepia with an important-looking cap placed between his large, spotted ears that pricked as he heard the door creak open. Turning his head towards the entrance, the large, golden crest on his cap glittered in the dim light streaming from the window behind his desk as he moved. 

“Ah, Butch.” He said, adjusting his scarlet bowtie and jumping off the stool to scurry over to his desk at the back of his office. “What brings you to my office today? You know not to bother me over something unimportant.” He added as he jumped onto his padded leather chair, making it look as if it were tailored for a giant compared to his tiny body. 

“No, never Sir.” Butch reassured as he let go of the door, letting it slam behind him as he walked up to Chadder’s desk and took his seat in front of it, the backless stool rolling away slightly from the sheer weight of him. “I… Just wanted to ask…” 

His hands were clamming up now. The station master was looking at him intensely, fingers balled in front of him as his silhouette haloed from the harsh sunlight from the window, his body shrouded in the shadow of his chair. Honestly, Butch hadn’t really come up with a plan for what he was going to say. He was so wrapped up in his fantasies that he almost thought that he’d walk into the station master’s office, be immediately informed of his promotion and accept his new uniform with a smile and a handshake and a celebratory marching band on his way out-- but this is just what happens when you let your guard down and have hopes so childish, he supposed. 

“...Well, you know I’ve been working here for many years now, and-- you also know that I’m very knowledgeable when it comes to, um, train operation.” He continued, taking his cap from his head to hold it in front of him in earnest. Instead of responding, the station master merely lifted a single eyebrow, making Butch’s throat run dry. “And-- And I am aware that recently, there’s been a new opening for engineer--”

“--New opening for engineer?” The station master interjected, so jarringly that it took Butch a moment to come back to his senses and speak again.

“Yes Sir. My coworker Fang quit yesterday, Sir.”

“Oh, yes. I am aware of that.” Chadder said matter-of-factly. “But what perplexes me is, why you think there’s a new opening for engineer?” 

Butch’s blood ran cold. “F-Fang was an engineer. Sir.” He mumbled, placing his cap back on his head and fixing his posture. 

“I am aware, yes. But his replacement has already been found. There is no new opening for engineer.” He continued casually, not even looking him in the eyes as he reached for a pen and began scribbling something down distractedly. “You? An engineer? That simply wouldn’t do, no, no, no.” He muttered almost jovially as he finished up writing. “Well!” He exclaimed cheerfully as he placed his last period onto the paper with a flair. “You’ve already taken enough of my time. Off you go!” 

Butch slacked his jaw wordlessly as he began to get shooed away by the little mouse, ears pinned to the sides of his head as he shakily stood up from his chair and floundered his words all the way to the exit of the room. It wasn’t until the large door had been slammed back on him that the reality truly kicked in. Breathing in sharply, he ran his claws through his jet-black fur and slowly balled up onto the ground, listening to his own laboured breathing to hold back his tears. 

---

As Butch approached the train he was assigned to that morning, he felt the facade of uncaringness he wore on the way start to break. His knees felt weak and his head went light, and he retreated to the shadow cast by the front of the train to hide from the exposure of the sun and to light a cigarette. As he lit and brought the smoking cigar to his lips, he collapsed onto the face of the train, blowing out a gust of smoke that swirled into the cool shadow air. 

So this was it. For the rest of his life, it was going to stay like this, and not even his best friend was there to help him through it. He’d never be anything more than a broke, lonely fireman.

Butch was snapped out of his spiralling thoughts as a whistle sounded from behind. Oh, what is it now? A train in need of a firelighter? He sunk deeper into the shadows, another wisp of smoke escaping from his parted lips. 

“Hello there! Uh, Is now a bit of a bad time…?” A voice called from behind him, one that was unfamiliar to Butch. It was a man’s voice, but unlike the hardened voices of the engineers and firemen he was used to. It was cheery and light, and could even be mistaken for a deep-voiced woman’s at first listen.

“The hell do you want?” Butch growled back insensitively, the end of his cigar glowing as he took another lungful of smoke, the cinders flaking off from the end of it carried along by the gentle breeze. 

“Oh-- No, I don’t want anything, I was just… Introducing myself to my new crew.” The voice replied with innocence. 

Butch let out another deep-throated growl and flicked his cigar onto the cobble below the tracks, massaging his face with his large paws. Of course. The guy that stole my dreams. With an irritated lash of his tail he began making his way over to face the man, a ginger-furred figure inching its way into view. As the shape of the train fully gave way, he locked eyes onto what he could only describe as the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

He was, for the lack of a better word… Pretty. A wolf with perfectly-conditioned ginger fur and sultry, cat-like eyes-- he was nothing like Butch had ever seen before. His fur was soft and glossy, like a woman’s, glistening in the sun in a pleasing shade of orange that perfectly complimented his dark blue uniform, coupled with a pure and flawless white that was near impossible to achieve without a long and complex hair routine. As the two met each other’s gaze, the wolf crossed his arms over his chest and rested his shoulder onto the side of the train, shooting Butch a crooked smile with a sort of electrifying effect that paralysed him on the spot-- stuck like a fly in a honeytrap. 

“Well… You must be the fireman.” The wolf said, a coy undertone to his voice as he looked Butch up and down. 

“Yup. That’s me. The fireman.” Butch replied defensively with a clear of his throat, trying not to let it on that the man had got him in a mystifying trance.

“Well, Mr. Fireman--” The wolf started, taking off his cap in an exaggerated bow. 

“Butch.” He corrected flatly. 

The wolf swiftly stood upright again, taking a moment to shake out the well-groomed tuft of russet fur on his head before swinging his cap back on top of it, the sight of his soft fur shimmering in the sun making Butch’s stomach sink. “Butch.” He continued. “I’m the new engineer! I used to be a conductor, but I was promoted today. The name’s Chief, it’s nice to meet you.”

Ah. So that explains the… ‘softness’. Being the ones that interacted with the passengers the most, conductors would always walk around with big, friendly smiles plastered onto their faces, walking around the cabs and making chit-chat with the passengers. Since they’d be the face of the journey, a handsome face would be favoured by an employer-- plus, they’d never have to put their hands on any of the manual labour stuff like the other workers, lungs and hearts slowly blackened by the soot they breathe working on the rails. 

Chief offered a snow white paw for a handshake, and as Butch took his hand in his, he felt how dainty the ex-conductor’s paw felt in his massive mitts, practically engulfing them in his sooty grip. It felt… Wrong, in a way. Like they were from two different worlds, and they should never be allowed to interact like this. But in another, it felt new and exciting-- and part of him wanted even more. 

“I’m excited to work with you, Butch.” Chief said as he withdrew, flashing his pearly white teeth in a courteous smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Butch responded politely, a hint of sarcasm in his voice that fell onto deaf ears. 

The two maintained eye contact for what seemed like a second too long, and Butch broke the silence with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“Hey-- Butch.” The wolf called out to him, just as Butch began turning back to his train. “You’re a… rottweiler, aren’t you?” 

Butch was a little startled by the question-- he’d just gotten relief from the thought that he could finally get away from this backwards man that was giving him strange feelings he didn’t understand, and his hands clammed up at the thought of said ‘backwards man’ wanting to know more about him. 

He turned around stiffly, anxiously meeting Chief’s gaze again. “...Yes.” 

Chief shot him a coy smile as he leant his head onto the train, looking at him in such a way that made Butch shift in place. “You know…” he began softly, staring so intensely into Butch’s eyes that he thought he might’ve been able to see right through him. “There’s something about rottweilers. Such… adorable, round faces, silky, black fur… And so… muscular.” Chief continued slowly, drawing out his words in a low and steady tone as his gaze began to travel down the fireman’s body. 

Butch couldn’t bring himself to respond. How do you even respond? By now his cheeks were glowing red as coals, and he couldn’t wrap his head around how one person could make him feel this way. 

“Well,” Chief said abruptly as he picked himself off of the train. “I best be going. It was nice to meet you, Butch.” 

Butch watched as the wolf’s silhouette shrank, his arms hanging dumbly at his sides as if they’d been glued to a pair of weights. Did he just get called… ‘Adorable’? If it were any other person, they might as well kiss their life goodbye after that, but for this person… Maybe he was willing to let it slide, just this once. 

Chapter Text

Butch thrusted the final shovelful of coal into the firebox, wiping the sweat roughly from his brow as a plume of hot air hit his face, other hand dropping the cinder-coated shovel against the wall with a clang. So it’s back to this. This everyday, forever. Methodically he stepped over to the sight glass on the wall and gave it a little tap, nose wrinkled in concentration as he watched the little air bubble on the inside rock in the disturbance. Too low. With practiced ease he swung himself off of the cab and onto the gravel floor of the engine shed, walking over to grab the hose of the nearby water tower and hooked it up to the train’s injector, turning its valve until he heard the familiar hiss, hum and rush of water as the engine’s boiler began to refill itself. 

He leaned back onto the side of the train and closed his eyes, focusing on the hollow tinkling sound of a nearly-empty boiler slowly changing to a deeper ripple, listening out for when it made just the right sound to indicate that it was full. His mind wandered a little as he waited, faces and memories of the day before flashing across the void of his closed eyes, causing him to subconsciously pick his nails and rub his fingers. He stopped as a certain image refused to leave his mind, and he let out a low growl as the sound of water rushing suddenly began to irritate him, his brain replaying the moments where that ex-conductor would look at him with those cat-shaped eyes of his, and that time he shook out his fur in front of him, the striking ginger hairs catching the light as he wafted the clementine scent of his conditioner in his direction, the memory so strong he swore he could taste it on his tongue.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as a jolly voice called out to him, giving him a start as the very same scent hit his nose, and he began to make a conscious effort not to start breathing deeper like some sort of freak. 

“Hello there! Lovely morning today, eh?” Chief greeted joyfully, shouting from where he was standing on the tracks outside of the shed. Butch glanced at him without moving his head, hoping that the wolf hadn’t noticed him jump, and squinted as he struggled to get a clear image of his silhouette as the sun reflected off of his fur so brightly he seemed as if he were glowing himself. His figure snapped back into focus as he stepped into the shadow cast by the tall roof of the shed, and for a moment he looked like he was part of some sort of picture, framed by the shed’s wide, open entrance and complemented by the fresh sunsoaked greenery on the trees and shrubs skirting the track behind him.  

Chief stopped in front of the train and cocked his head to the side, reading the label written on the back of it. “Oh! This is my train for today.” He remarked.

Upon hearing his words Butch involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath, slamming the back of his head resignedly against the train and let it out in a heaving sigh. This is my train, too.

“Whatchya doin’?” Chief continued obliviously as he resumed walking towards him again, clearly not noticing Butch’s reaction. The dog’s eyes shot back open as he was reminded of what he was actually doing, the sound of the boiler filling coming back to his attention. His ears pricked, trying to gauge how much water was in there. Too full, too full!

“Shhit!” Butch hissed under his breath, hand shooting out to twist the valve closed. Ignoring Chief hurrying over to where he was standing, he swiftly boarded the cab and stepped over to the sight glass, the room rocking as Chief clambered on behind him. 

“Woo! Not used to there being no platform!” Chief panted, looking up to Butch as the fireman tapped on the sight glass, so preoccupied that he either didn’t hear him or care to reply. 

“It’s fine.” Butch said half to himself as the wolf joined his side. “The tank’s a little fuller than I like it but I can still see the bubble, ‘might just have to let out a bit more pressure when the train’s in action but it’ll be fine.” 

Chief’s eyes flicked from the sight glass and Butch as he spoke, not fully understanding what he was saying but nonetheless enjoying listening to the rottweiler explain in his rich and raspy voice as he pointed to the little water-filled tube with such focus in his big dark eyes. 

Butch’s hand dropped back to his side and he turned to Chief expectantly, looking him up and down as the new engineer merely gave him a blank stare. “We’re all set. We can go.” He prompted after a moment’s silence, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. 

“Oh. Oh-- Yes! Yes, ‘go’, we can go now. I’m… Gonna.. Go.” Chief stuttered as he aimlessly waved his arms at the controls in front of him, desperately trying to summon up a memory of what to do before it was made obvious that he didn’t actually know, and failing. 

“You don’t know how, do you?” Butch said flatly, tone sounding less like a question and more like a displeasured statement. 

“N-no, I do, I do! O-one of the other engineers taught me yesterday--” 

“Yesterday?” Butch interrupted with the same cold tone, looking down at Chief with an unmoving gaze that made the pretty wolf swallow. Not getting a response, Butch scoffed and turned to the controls on the right side of the train, pointing to a double-handled contraption next to the window. “You see this? If we wanna connect to the passenger cars we gotta back in to the trailer yard. You gotta turn the reverser backwards to put the train into reverse.” 

“Right! You’re right. We’re putting the train in reverse…” Chief mumbled as he grabbed the left handle of the reverser and started cranking it anti-clockwise. He took his hand off and stared blankly at it for a moment, ears pricked as if he were anticipating for the train to start moving. 

Seriously? This is the guy they chose instead of me? Butch thought, then cleared his throat to grab Chief’s attention. He was about ready to growl out the next instruction when Chief’s gaze snapped onto him, his pretty little sparkling eyes wide with attentiveness. For some reason this made Butch stumble over his words, and he merely made a meaningless sound when he tried to open his mouth to speak. Bringing a closed hand to his face to hide the little hotspot growing on his cheeks, he pretended to clear his throat again and then pointed at a control on the wall. 

“You see this big red lever?” 

“Yes?” Chief breathed, focusing more on the muscles in Butch’s raised forearm than the actual lever he was pointing at.

“Well, you gotta pull it to get the train movin’.” 

“Ah-- yes! The big red lever!” Chief echoed, the obviousness of it all snapping him out of his little daze. He reached for its wooden handle, but paused just before he grabbed it to steal another glance at Butch, who in the moment was pretending to wipe the soot off his face to hide his persistent blush, the sight of the muscles rippling in his arm causing Chief’s own cheeks to flush. His eyes quickly flicked back to the lever as Butch suddenly turned his attention back to him, still pretending to be preoccupied even after he had lifted it up to avoid the fireman’s gaze.

Chief startled as the train sprung to life, rolling backwards at a steadily increasing speed. As the train began to leave the engine yard, the inside of the cab slowly lighting up as the train left the cover of the yard’s corrugated red roof, Chief stumbled towards the open window and grabbed onto its frame. 

“Ah-ha! Backward! I’m on a train… Driving it backward…” Chief mumbled, trying to sound jolly but failing as his eyes kept flicking back and forth on the moving ground beneath him. 

“You never seen a train move backward, pretty boy?” Butch rumbled from behind him, looking amused. 

“Well I-- Yes, I have, I just never thought that I’d …”

“Be driving?” Butch cut in sharply, finishing his sentence before he could even decide what he was going to say. 

“Yes… Exactly.” 

For a moment Butch just continued to stare at him, the corner of his mouth slowly lifting in a sardonic smirk before he grabbed at his cap and pulled it over his eyes, leaning on the window frame as he let out a growling chuckle. “God damn. God damn it.” He muttered under his breath. 

Chief opened his mouth to ask him what the matter was, but before he could get the words out he noticed the entrance to the trailer yard was quickly approaching like the maw of a large beast preparing to swallow them whole. 

“Uh-- uh, we’re here, we’re here!” He stammered, failing to remember how to stop the train. Without hesitation Butch reached to lift the handle of a sort of fan-looking contraption on Chief’s side of the controls, causing the grates to open with a hiss and for the train to slow just in time for it to enter the shadow of the trailer yard. 

As the rhythmic huff of steam began to slow down, Butch turned to Chief and rested his arm on his coal-shovel. “Don’t tell anyone I did that, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” 

Butch gave him a smile so small Chief thought that he might have just imagined it, and soon the train made contact with the first passenger car and came to a halting stop. The sound of the metal clashing rippled through each of the trailers one-by-one, and without another word Butch grabbed onto the doorframe and swung himself into the gap between the train and the passenger car, surprising Chief, who hurried over to see where the dog had disappeared off to, hanging out of the doorway with only a hand and a foot on the frame. Butch was already linking up the hooks and loops to the engine, making quick work of it, and before he knew it Butch was jumping off the train to pull a lever next to the tracks, causing the rails to audibly shift in the distance. 

The whole time Chief watched in awe of the fireman’s skill, so mystified that he hardly noticed the large dog quickly marching back up to the train and grabbing onto it, hoisting himself up so quickly that he hadn’t yet thought to move back to give him some space. The man’s body had moved in front of him so quickly it made him stumble backward in shock, yet the two remained close enough that the rottweiler blocked his entire view and Chief had to strain his eyes to look into his. He blushed as he took in how massive Butch’s frame seemed in front of him, still refusing to move back even though the two were practically nose-to-nose. 

Normally Butch would have flung someone standing this close directly into the sun-- and some part of him did want to do that-- but the other part of him just wanted to start doing that, but to stop before he could send him away, placing his hands on the pretty little man’s waist and just leaving them there. He thought better; and gave the ex-conductor an indignant huff to signal that he was ready to have his personal space back. 

“Oh, oh! I am… So sorry.” Chief apologised as stepped back as far as he could and turned his attention to the controls, Butch secretly grieving his sweet scent. Surprisingly, the rookie engineer got the train moving fairly quickly, and soon the pair were station-bound. Butch was struck with a sense of pride that loosened his face enough to allow for a smile, and he let out a genuine chuckle as Chief set off the whistle, the wolf’s eyes sparkling as he beamed at him. 

As the train pulled into the station, Chief remembered to pull the brake valve, and the corner of Butch’s mouth lifted slightly as he turned to pick up his shovel. He opened up the firebox and began refilling it, rhythmically shovelling the coal in a specified pattern as an excuse to avoid the gazes of the passengers on the platform. Chief on the other hand couldn’t seem to get enough of their attention, waving and sending air kisses to all the women and children who waved to him while boarding, and Butch’s stomach suddenly sank, thinking of the wife such a handsome and charming man such as Chief must have at home, even though he had no idea why something like that would make him feel that way.

Chief and the conductor on the platform exchanged a friendly laugh before he gave him the thumbs up to start moving, and Chief started up the train once he’d jumped on, Butch messing with some levers and valves once the train was at full speed. Chief stuck his head out of the window, hand on his cap to stop it from blowing away in the wind, and howled contently as the spring breeze caressed his soft fur, hills covered in purple heather passing behind him. Butch failed to catch himself staring before Chief came back inside and looked at him, the two of them breaking eye contact sheepishly and looking at nowhere to hide their blushes. Butch cleared his throat and grabbed his shovel, but stopped before he could open the firebox as he heard Chief call to him softly. 

“Hey,” He said, and Butch looked up at him with a bewildered expression. “...I’d like to meet you later. Are you free tonight?”

Butch had been caught off guard-- not that he’d ever had a ‘guard’ for these things-- he’d never expected in his life to get asked such a thing. “I, uh-- Uh, yeah. I suppose so.” 

Chief chuckled quietly, going back to the tone he’d used when they first met. “Well, if you’d like to, we can meet in the town restaurant. The one with the red awning, and the fairy lights? I’d certainly like to.” 

Butch looked at him as if he’d just grown three heads, still bent over as if he were about to open the firebox. 

“Well? Will you meet me?” Chief repeated expectantly. 

“I-I… I suppose I don’t have anything better to do…”

Chapter Text

Butch didn’t know why he agreed to this. He barely ever showed his face in town, let alone in a restaurant, teeming with all those prissy rich people that hated him so much. Right now he stood on his soggy little cardboard sheet, back against the red brick wall of the dingy alleyway he shouldn’t be in, rolling and unrolling his sleeves and trying to decide which one would make him look the least like some tramp who’d walked into a fancy restaurant by mistake. He decided in the end to keep them rolled up, since the bottom half of his sleeves were such a vastly different colour from the top after being protected from all the soot and oil over the years, that having them hung down looked too ridiculous to wear seriously out in public. 

At first he’d attempted to leave behind both his leather cap and his apron, as he didn’t feel that wearing such obviously work-related clothes to dinner was appropriate, but he only managed to walk a few steps away from his box before returning to grab his hat, feeling that it was a little too informal not to have something to cover over his head. 

The asphalt floor of the alley was wet, splashing subtly under his paws as he made his way over to the little brass faucet in the wall and twisted it open, the heavy patter of the uneven stream of water hitting the floor filling the silent alleyway. He rinsed his hands and arms briefly before splashing some water on his face, the large droplets practically sliding right off of his thick, shiny fur, before shaking off and closing up the faucet. 

Wiping the rest of the water off of his face and flicking it to the ground, he stood up and put his back to the wall once again, gazing up at the gleaming white stars through the gap between the eaves of the victorian-style houses as he slowly filled his lungs with the spring night air, letting it all out in an uncharacteristically soft and melancholy sigh. He was already late for his meeting with Chief, he knew that. They were supposed to meet at sundown; but when Butch had noticed the sky shifting amber he’d kept stalling and stalling until it was dark, since some part of him thought that if he just pretended that none of it was real, all of the confusing emotions he’d been feeling would just go away. 

Well, that part of him was wrong, and that feeling of butterflies in his stomach was still there, making his heart beat faster every time he saw Chief’s stupidly perfect face in his mind. He’d had that same sinking feeling so long now that he almost felt a little sick, and his mind raced so fast every time he tried to rest that attempting to sleep it off was pointless. So, Butch just decided to cut his losses and meet Chief at the restaurant like they’d agreed, and even though he was already late, he decided that he still had a little time left to light another cigarette. 

---

Butch knew he was close to the town centre when he heard the soft rushing of the water fountain in the distance, the gas-lamp lit square coming into view as he turned the corner of one of the alleyways. He paused at its opening for a moment, surveying the currently peaceful surroundings before stepping out into the open to approach the large fountain. He craned his neck to look up at the chihuahua-Goddess centrepiece, gently running his hand along the fountain’s water-slicked walls before turning his attention to the buildings surrounding the square, his eyes drifting to the glimmer of the bright globe fairy lights hung on the awning of the restaurant. 

The sight made Butch’s stomach flip, and he quickly flicked his eyes away before flopping down onto the fountain wall, facing away from the restaurant as he pretended not to see it. At first he tried wrapping his arms around his waist, as if the feeling were a tangible thing that he could grab and throw away, but, failing, switched to cup his face as he growled deeply at the ground, the frustration eventually boiling over into an explosive bark that shook the silent night air. The embarrassment weighing on his shoulders pulled him back to reality and he buried his face in his hands, listening in to the soothing babbling of water behind him to try and calm himself, the knot in his stomach slowly dissipating as he took deeper and slower breaths. Come on, Butch. He thought. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. 

And with that he exhaled heavily and slowly made his way over to the restaurant’s entrance, feeling the ground beneath him even out as he stepped off of the fountain’s cobblestone skirting and onto the brick-tile paving of the square. He stopped outside the restaurant's outdoor seating area; enclosed with red café-style barriers that matched the awning, draped with strings of large, yellow globe lights that the black-painted metal chair and table sets in the patio reflected softly. Cautiously, he continued on and looked through the entrance’s glass door, biting down on his tongue as he noticed Chief inside, sitting there alone on a table looking nothing like his usual self. 

He was hunched over so much Butch could practically see his shoulder blades though his white button-up, and his eyes, once glowing with charm, had been reduced to dull, sunken pits, half-covered with his unkempt ginger hair which his fingers were tangled deeply into, the others drumming restlessly against the red-clothed table as his eyes darted around the restaurant’s glossy walnut plank floor. 

Butch hadn’t considered his actions would have an effect on Chief at all until now, only ever seeing him proud and confident made him seem almost untouchable -- immune to being hurt by trivial things such as not meeting up with someone like himself. As he looked on at the dejected pile of fur, the reality that he was the one to have made Chief this way hit him like a slap to the face. Swallowing down his guilt, Butch sheepishly pushed the door open and almost instantly Chief shot up from his wilted position, eyes wide and his tail beginning to sway as he realised who it was. 

“Butch.” He breathed, too quiet to hear over the constant sound of the diners’ talking, but he could tell that he was calling his name from the way he was looking so pointedly at him, gaze shifting between each of his eyes as if he couldn’t be sure if he was just a mirage. “You came.” He said, louder this time, as he fixed his posture, the glimmer coming back to his eyes as they caught the light of the hanging lamp above him.

Butch merely let out an affirmational grumble, knowing that Chief would never be able to hear him but also not wanting to draw attention to himself, and slowly began making his way over to Chief’s table, feeling a crushing insecurity as he eyed the diners on the tables opposite, all dressed in their best attire and displaying perfect manners as they all laughed politely and inoffensively to each other. Pulling his tucked chair from the table with an unnervingly loud scrape, Butch glanced up at Chief for the first time after coming inside, at the wolf so perfect and pretty he might be mistaken for the model that the others in the room were merely trying to imitate, and his creeping sense of inadequacy grew all the more heavier. 

Butch took his seat, trying to act unfazed while still pulling his cap over his eyes as Chief watched him in silence, smiling giddily as his tail swayed rapidly behind him. Butch tried to catch his eye to return the grin, but his expression quickly dropped as he noticed how the wolf’s brows were still tightly knit in a grimace, his balled-up hands kept close to his chest; the hours he’d spent alone not forgotten. 

“Butch! You’re here! I-I can’t even begin to tell you how worried I was! I-I thought you-- I thought you…” Chief gushed, his voice trailing off before he replaced the missing words with an awkward chuckle, his cheeks flushing red as he looked down and began playing with the sleeve of the plush pink sweater tied around his neck. 

Butch swallowed, making the mistake of catching the eye of one of the diners staring over at their table and quickly breaking eye contact by switching his gaze over to the pristine silver cutlery in front of him, a shot of panic ripping through him as he realised he didn’t know what each of them were for. 

“Well… I--” Butch began, looking up at Chief from where his head was rested in his palm in an attempt to seem casual, making an effort to speak as he would normally but immediately shrinking back as he felt he was too loud, feeling the glares of the other diners burning into his back. “...I’m here now.” He continued, softer than he intended, a shy smile spreading across his face as his cheeks suddenly reddened without his permission. Chief let out a poorly stifled chuckle as he saw his expression, Butch throwing his large paws in front his face as Chief turned away and continued hiding his laugh with his hand. 

“Well, I’m glad you are.” Chief added softly after a moment, eyeing him from where he was already facing with his eyes hooded and the corner of his mouth turned up in a little smile, Butch swiftly pulling his cap over his eyes as his stomach flipped and his face grew impossibly redder.

“Are you ready for your menu now, sir?” A waitress dressed neatly in a collared burgundy uniform and spotless white apron said coolly, holding out a pair of booklets bound with red ribbon for Chief to take. 

“Ah, yes! Thank you, so sorry to have kept you waiting, my love.” Chief responded promptly in his usual charismatic tone, Butch suddenly getting hit with an inexplicable feeling of doubt as he watched him address the woman so fondly. 

“Here,” Chief said as he slid one of the menus over to Butch. “Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.” He said with a brief smile before opening up his own menu and flipping through some of the pages. 

“Ah, yeah, thanks.” Butch mumbled as he shakily picked up the little booklet and opened it up in front of his face so that Chief or anybody else couldn’t see him, staying on the randomised page he’d picked and pretended to read it. He was illiterate. 

“Before we order the food, do you want to get a drink? I’m getting a wine; should I get you a glass or do you want something else, perhaps?” Chief offered courteously before putting his menu down to look at Butch, looking perplexed as he was met with a spread menu instead of a face. Meanwhile Butch gave in to the temptation to look around at the other tables, filled with all those well-dressed people he could have sworn were throwing glances at him before turning to their peers and laughing. 

“Butch? Butch, are you alright?” Chief called softly, and, not getting a response, began looking around the restaurant in an attempt to find what could be making the usually-stoic dog uncomfortable. Heavens knew what had gotten into him tonight, everything seemed to be in order and Chief himself hadn’t decided whether or not to be relieved or furious to finally see him show up, but still his heart ached to see Butch like this, whatever the reason may be. 

Butch jumped as he felt a feather-light touch on his hand, and he moved the menu from his face to see Chief smiling softly at him. 

“Would you prefer it if we sat somewhere quieter?” He said with a voice low enough so that only he would hear, his hand not moving from his. Butch nodded with a grimace, and Chief called over one of the waiters, Butch watching in silence as Chief spoke quietly to the waiter and as he nodded silently back. Suddenly Chief stood up from his chair and beckoned Butch with his hand, so Butch rose and took his menu with him, noticing that Chief was carrying his own, and began following the waiter to the back of the restaurant. 

The waiter walked up to a door in the back corner and pushed it open, revealing a steel staircase on the other side as he held the door open and gestured politely outside. Chief took the first step and thanked the waiter with a bow, taking Butch’s hand and leading him up the intricately-designed steps behind him. The yellow light from the restaurant faded as the door shut and the night closed in around them, the stars glittering in large swathes above them as the cool night breeze whispered against their fur. Chief held his nose to the sky, admiring the natural light display as his captivating eyes reflected the glimmering dots, the pair exchanging a grin before they hurried up the rest of the stairs.

At the top was the restaurant’s balcony, the floor and parapets made with the same patterned steel as the staircase, looking over the rooves of the buildings behind the restaurant and in the distance, the winding river and the moor. Chief’s hand slowly ran along the coil at the end of the stairs’ railing, his gaze fixed on the clear horizon, before he smiled again and led Butch to one of the tables, pulling out a chair for him to sit on. Butch took it gratefully and stole another glance at the view, focusing on the way the ripples of the water reflected the white light of the moon as Chief took the seat in front of him, feeling much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them alone. 

He looked back towards Chief, whose dark silhouette he could see fumbling over the candle in the dark. 

“I don’t suppose you have a match on you, do you, Butch?” Chief muttered as he patted his empty pockets. 

“Do I?” Butch teased as he pulled out a matchbox, the light revealing Chief's flushed, grinning face as Butch ran a matchhead along his teeth, the unexpectedness of his expression making Butch blush in response. He leaned over to light the wick of the tall white candle in the centre of the table, Chief sitting back in his chair with  sigh as the surroundings illuminated in yellow around them. He picked up his menu and began leisurely reading over it again, Butch glancing down at his own as his throat began to run dry. 

“I, uh… Can you, um?” Butch muttered in a low voice as he examined the fancy title printed onto the front of the menu, trying to recognise the letters as he prayed he could just learn how to decipher it right then and there so he could just avoid the embarrassment. 

“Hm? Yes, Butch?” Chief responded, lowering his menu and staring attentively. 

Butch opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He coughed and leant onto his hand, eyes fixed firmly to the ground. “Could you… Read out the menu for me?”

“Oh!” Chief exclaimed, as if it were something that he should’ve thought of sooner, and Butch cursed to himself for being forced to bring their differences to his attention. “Of course! Here, I’ll start with the mains…”  

He began reading off the items in the menu; dishes with fancy names in different languages that Butch could only recognise as ‘foreign’. His head began to spin, and eventually he stopped caring what he would get, as long as it was edible and he didn’t have to make a decision. 

“Didjya say they had a daily special?” Butch interjected as Chief prattled endlessly. 

“Why, yes, today they’re trying a new recipe for their classic tagliatelle bolognese.” 

“I’ll get that. Whatever the hell that means.” Butch mumbled under his breath. 

“Wonderful! I’m feeling a Caesar salad today.” Chief affirmed as he flicked through the pages of the menu one last time, Butch breathing a sigh of relief as he leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. 

The pair’s ears shifted towards the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs, the waitress from earlier coming into view with a bottle of wine and a clipboard in each hand. She placed the bottle onto the table, and as if by unspoken command Chief flipped over his wine glass and Butch swiftly reached out to mirror his action. 

The waitress balanced the clipboard against her arm and took a pen from behind her ear, taking a second to scribble something down before speaking. “Are you ready to place your order?”

“Why, yes, I’ll be having a Caesar salad today and my friend here will be having your daily special.” Chief responded with a steady and upbeat tone as if he were reading off a script, the waitress nodding and noting down their order. “Thank you, dear!” He added as she put the pen back behind her ear and began taking leave. 

Butch was taken aback by Chief referring to him as more than just his coworker, and yet again his stomach sank at the reminder that such a model man like Chief probably had someone waiting for him at home. His conflicting feelings began swirling up a storm in his head, but his attention quickly shifted away as Chief leaned over the table and grabbed at his wine glass, blushing as he met Butch’s confused blank stare as he began pouring wine into the glass. 

“Oh, pardon my manners…” He said sheepishly, eyes fixed to the flowing liquid before he passed the glass over to Butch. His hands shook as he pinched the dainty stem between his large fingers and slowly began lifting it up towards his lips to take a sip, stopping himself as Chief held up his glass and propped himself up with a paw on the table. 

Butch scrambled to imitate his pose, his chair scraping against the steel as he clumsily pushed it backwards and listened in uncertainty as the wolf began to speak. “I drink to you, Butch, my newfound partner and unexpected mentor.” Chief said, looking directly into his eyes with a warm gaze. 

“A-an-and I drink to Chief, you-- uh, my partner and unexpected mentor.” Butch said while avoiding the wolf’s eyes and the wine in his glass rippling as he held it unsteadily.

Chief let out a chuckle in that charmingly smooth voice of his, the little snort at the end making Butch’s stomach sink. “Cheers!” He said with the smile still in his voice before reaching out to clink their glasses, Butch only awkwardly repeating him as they began sitting back in their seats. 

Butch watched as Chief daintily sipped his wine, and he winced before hastily taking a swig. An unexpected tart sensation spread across his mouth and tongue and he forced himself to swallow, scrunching his face and lolling his tongue in and out of his mouth repeatedly as he tried to get rid of the feeling. Chief flicked his eyes open in confusion of the sound Butch was making, wine bubbling against his lips as he sputtered a chuckle into his glass.

“Have-- have you never drank wine before?” Chief chuckled as he wiped away the wine on his lips with a napkin. 

“No…” Butch mumbled as he put down the glass and pretended to cough into his hand. When the familiar sound of the waitress climbing up the stairs started once again, Butch let out a sigh of relief and laid his glass back onto the table, never intending to pick it back up again. She walked back over to their table and served the pair their meals, Butch’s eyes lighting up as he recognised the pasta dish in front of him. He waited for her to leave, Chief thanking her and wishing her a good night before she sank back into the darkness, before he began to speak. 

“H-hey, I know what this is. My mother used to make it for me and my siblings before I, uh-- ‘moved out’. I haven’t had it in a while, since I don’t have a kitchen. That is; where I… live.” He mumbled, shifting his gaze to the dish in front of him then pretending to be occupied by hooking some of the flat noodles onto his fork, clearly not remembering that he was supposed to wind the strands around it. As he clumsily shoveled his forkful into his mouth, the half of it still hanging out and onto the plate, the taste instantly reminded him of his childhood home and he slowly became distracted by his foggy memories. 

“Oh, really?” Chief responded, clearly unaware of Butch’s increasingly swirling thoughts. “Well you can come over to my place anytime! Truly, nothing beats a home-cooked dinner.” 

Upon hearing his offer Butch made a sort of choking sound as if he were about to spit out his pasta, but he thought twice and instead bit off the ends, letting them fall back into the plate before quickly grabbing at the napkin beside him and wiping the sauce off of his mouth, the cutlery clanging against each other as the cloth was pulled from beneath them. 

“I-- um, that’s very nice of you.” Butch after recollecting his thoughts, internally scolding himself for freaking out over such a simple offer. “But I wouldn’t want to trouble your… wife over a meal for me.” 

“Huh?” Chief said forcefully, a couple of leaves falling out of his mouth as his jaw dropped open and plopping back onto his plate with a sad little splat. It took him a second for his mind to come back to Earth, and when it did he turned a bright shade of red and covered his mouth with his sleeve and mumbled into it. “Oh my goodness-- pardon me, I guess- I guess I just didn’t expect-- HA--” 

“I, Uh… I’m sorry I mentioned your wife?” 

“NO-- No. No, no, no, no, no. There is no wife, there’s-- there’s no wife.” Chief asserted, and all of a sudden Butch began to feel lighter, as if all the doubt and worry were cleared by those words, his tail beginning to wag. Why? Why was that so important to him? How on Earth does that change anything at all? 

“...Well.” Butch said, trying to control his tone yet not knowing how he was supposed to sound, his glowing eyes and pricked ears betraying his inner excitement. “Well, I suppose that would be alright then. That is, assuming I wouldn’t be troubling anyone else?” 

Chief’s face lit up and he flashed a sparkling smile. “No, no, it’s only me in my little home.” 

Chief’s smile was contagious, and Butch couldn’t help flashing a little grin of his own. “In that case, I… I wouldn’t mind stopping by.” 

“And I would love to have you. You wouldn’t happen to be free tomorrow, would you?” 

“I’m always free.”

“Well, then it’s settled… We meet tomorrow.” Chief said as he smiled again and picked up his fork, not looking away as he did. 

“...Tomorrow.” Butch echoed softly, the pair’s tails wagging behind them as they stared into the candlelight and stars reflected in each other’s eyes.