Archive of Our Own ^beta

The alarm on your phone rings, awakening you from the deep slumber you had. Luckily, it was an early weekend morning, so there was no obligation to get out of bed anytime soon. Reaching for the vibrating device, pointer finger quickly flicking up at the screen to snooze it.
A couple hours later, you open your eyes again. The curtains in the room were letting in a small ray of light, the walls reflecting a creamy white instead of the deep grey from the previous evening. Stretching your limbs, the blanket falling off your body, you get out of bed and head over to the bathroom. While you were sectioning your hair out to start brushing it, the padding of footsteps directs your gaze backwards. The family dog seems to have woken up, and now she watches with interest as the plastic bristles run through your strands.
“Hi! Good morning, Meatloaf!” you say quietly, crouching down to her level. The dog's white tipped tail wags slightly.

After washing up and getting ready for the day off at home, you head downstairs for breakfast. Opening the fridge, there were too many ingredients. You certainly didn’t want to use up your energy to make some extravagant meal from scratch, as well as wash the multitude of dishes that would pile up when you finished. A small yogurt bowl will have to do.
Scooping up a few big globs of white yogurt, you set the spoon inside the bowl, before drizzling some honey on top. Maybe you were too heavy handed, tilting the huge container too far, causing a big pump to spill out instead of the neat, thin lines like you anticipated. It would have to do, you suppose. For the fruit, you grabbed the chopping board, a knife from the drying rack, and a fresh nectarine from the bowl. After washing the fruit, you slice off each side, before thinly cutting strips from each piece. As you were about to rinse off what you used for cutting, Meatloaf must have sensed the food, coming to stand behind you as you began to position the fruits in your yogurt bowl.
Of course, you ignored her, feeling no guilt even as she sat patiently beside your chair. You scooped up the yogurt and fed yourself spoonfuls, utensil in one hand, phone in the other. Someone else in the family was responsible for feeding her, and it wasn’t even time for her meal yet. However, her greedy self showed no shame, continuing to sit in anticipation of whatever scraps you might throw her way.
“Do you want some?” you ask, flinging your empty spoon out in front of her. Since there was no food on it, nothing came off, but her head still turned in the direction anyway. A smile erupted on your face at the trick, and you continue to eat more of your breakfast.
The dog's small eyebrow raised, and you got up to wash your spoon in the sink. Meatloaf followed you, standing right by your knees as the water and dish soap lathered the sponge.
“So greedy, Meatloaf! No food for you.”
She made no effort in trying to leave you alone. Her eyes never stray from the bowl in your hands, a few scrapes of leftover yogurt and fruit juices still on the smooth insides. Looking between your face and the tiniest amount of food left, you set the bowl back on the table.
“Alexa, can dogs eat yogurt?”

Once you finished washing the dishes, you sat down on the couch, scrolling through brain rot videos. Meatloaf came running to you, whining, in the middle of you scrolling something. Noticing her pawing at the door, you get up and turn the lock, ready to let her out for a bathroom break. However, she slipped right past you before you could get ready with watching her, and sprinted off, her fast legs taking her down the street. Your eyes widen in shock, and you have to force yourself to move away from the door. Hopefully, she won't get too far.

“HELPP!! MEATLOAF RAN AWAY!” You call out, shutting the open door, and sprinting into the kitchen to grab a leash and a dog treat bag.

When no reply came, you realized both of your parents must have already left for work, and your siblings probably were outside, going out biking with their friends. No one was at home to help you catch the dog, leaving you alone for the task.

There was no time to dwell on the fine details of your appearance. You barely had time to tie your hair back with the loose hair tie around your wrist, the fabric nearly frayed to the point of breaking. Hooking your finger in the back of your $20 dirty beige no name branded shoes to slip them on, you bolted out the door, fumbling with the lock on your way out. An annoyed huff escapes your lips when your shirt gets caught on the handle. You pull it away before finally stepping off the porch, running as fast as you could while calling out for your dog.

After about twenty seconds, you have to slow down a ton just to catch your breath. Old shoes, lack of preparation, and the sun shining down on your skin made for an unpleasant experience. Luckily, the house was close enough for you to return. Perhaps a bicycle would be useful. There should be a couple in the garage, if you could find that scrap of metal in the midst of the messy interior.

It was just your luck. The door to the garage was closed. You had no access to that key, that was some grown up stuff, and they were obviously gone. With no way to open it, you huff an exaggerated breath, knowing foot travel would be the only way to go. This time, you manage to pop back in the house to grab a water bottle for yourself and a light shoulder bag, just to make carrying your stuff around easier.
You knew you saw her running off to the right, so that's the direction you head first. Luckily, as long as she continues going right, she'd just stay in the residential neighborhood area instead of out onto the busy streets. But you still had to act fast, for the unlikely, but still possible, chance of a rogue car doing target hits for bonus points.

“MEATLOAF!” you call out every so often, lightly jogging across the pavement. You mentally cursed whoever built this neighborhood, making the whole curve you were on a steady uphill climb rather than flat surface. Taking another small sip of water, you figure you must have been walking for hours. Twisting your wrist up, you groan when you see it's only been 12 minutes.

A small barking sounds behind you, and you excitedly turn around, hoping to finally return home with your precious pet. However, this definitely isn't your dog! It was a small, light, ginger colored one, with fluffy looking fur covering its whole body. It had a round shape, including its facial features. Likely no older, and much smaller in size than your Meatloaf, it started wagging its tail at you. Once you snapped out of your position and started to try running away from it, it too started to pick up its pace.
“STAY BACK!!” your voice booms with false confidence, not daring to waste a second looking back. You could tell it was still following you, though, from hearing the padding of its footsteps against the concrete pavement. Once an ‘arf’ could be heard no more than a few dozen feet away from you, that's when you really tapped into your inner athlete and sprinted away.
Unluckily for you, your short boost of stamina could never outrun a dog, and it continues to chase after what it considers a new game of fetch the human.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
There were a couple people taking a leisurely stroll across from you, and despite your frantic attempts to get their attention, they didn't seem to notice. It was just a normal day, seeing what they assumed to be a teenager and their pet having fun exercise time outdoors.

Fence after fence, some wooden, some metal, blocks any quick access to go up to a random porch and find help there. This was the most you have ever run in weeks, and it may as well have been your last time running ever, if you didn’t find a way to get rid of this dog on your trail. Spotting a house just at the corner of the street sign, you see it had an open, fence free area. Perfect for you. Ending up in that random yard, you run across their freshly watered grass, shoes messing up the pattern of the clean cut. There was only a low metal fence that would lead to the front yard, and hopefully deter this dog from its continued chase. Powering up all your strength, you barely manage to lift yourself several inches from the ground. You couldn’t even jump the fence properly!
As you pick up a comically large stick in preparation for the worst, the door opens, and out steps a middle aged man with dark hair and a stern look on his face.
“Who are you? What are you doing on my property?” he asks.
“I’m so sorry, I was being chased by a-” you stammer, still clutching the stick with shaky hands.
“Hold on..Chargargothacon!”
“Huh?”

The man waves his hands in the air frantically, attracting the attention of the small dog, who now ran towards his legs instead of focusing on getting to you.
“Thank you very much for finding our family dog. She must have ventured off.” He lifts up the dog, carrying it in his left arm while using his free hand to open the door wide enough for the animal. He set it down gently, and after the dog waddled inside, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, pressing a few keys with precision before bringing it to his ear. It rang a couple times before the person on the other line picked up.
“Come home, we found her.”
Their conversation continues as the man walks into his house, leaving you out by yourself.

After a few more minutes of waiting in the now empty yard, you sigh and figure Meatloaf is long gone by now. The only hope you have is to see if she'll return later to your doorstep once the running around tired her out. But as soon as you take a step, a familiar figure zooms past, a blur of black and white down the street. And ahead of her, was a guy you somewhat recognized as one of your neighbors.

“OH MY GOODNESS, MEATLOAF!!! MEATLOAF!!”
You immediately start the chase and close the distance, grabbing onto your dog's squishy body and quickly leashing her. Her tail is wagging furiously and she's panting at a rapid pace, her expression telling you she had way too much fun during her escape from home.
The guy who was running along with her turns around at the end of the street and jogs back to you at the front of the yard.

“Hey, is that yours?” He asks, pointing to Meatloaf.
“Uh. Yeah, she's my dog. Ran away.” You avoid eye contact with him, but crouching to be closer to the ground makes blood rush to your face, warming it up. You can sense him staring at you, even as you get up.
“How'd you find her?” You speak again, holding a firm grip on the leash.
“Well, my dog ran away too. I was trying to find her, but then my dad called and said she came back home. I ran in the wrong direction trying to come back here and then your dog started following me! I thought it would be one of those situations where the dogs can communicate teleportingly to each other, and then she would lead me to mine..” he hums, rubbing his neck with his hand as his little ramble went on.
“Teleportingly? Do you mean telepathically, like in the movies? And don’t worry, your dog was chasing me too! I guess in a way, they kinda found their own way home. Wait, you live here?”
“Oh, uhh. Yep.”
“Haha, I'm sorry about that! Your dog, it's..Chargargor or something?”
“We call her Char for short.”
“Ah. So, if you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did she get her name?”
“I named her when I was a kid. My parents asked me to write something out. I think I was trying to spell chocolate.”

Neither of you make an effort to point out that you've both started walking towards your house. The streets empty out as the residents return back to their homes, the sky changing into a beautiful ombre of pink, yellow, and orange.
When you walk up the steps to your front door, you allow Meatloaf to run towards him for last minute pets.

“It was nice talking to you today. And thank you for finding my dog.” you said, key halfway in the lock.
“Yeah. Maybe Meatball and chocolate can have a doggy day date sometime.”
“It's Meatloaf. And if you mean play date, then sure! I’d love to see you again.”
The both of you wave goodbye to each other before you enter the house, leaving him to walk back to his place as well.

A few minutes later, while you were pouring fresh water into the dog bowl, a ringing is heard at the door. Peeking from around the corner, you're grateful to see it's not a random delivery driver or advertising person, but rather the nice guy you parted ways with earlier. He pushes up his glasses with two fingers and clears his throat before talking.
“This neighborhood has a very..compound design. It appears that despite my best effort, I kinda got lost. Could you maybe walk with me back to my house? Please?” he pleads, ears flushed red with the absurdity of the request.
“I’m pretty bad at directions, too. I’d probably get you even more lost if I tried. But if you insist!”

A small smile appears on your face as you take a gulp from your water bottle, getting ready to venture outside once more. Before getting out of view, you make sure to remember waving goodbye to Meatloaf, who was watching the two of you through the window, falling in step together as the sky turns a darker blue.