Wes/Reader | Dollface Oneshots

Breakfast Run (Fluff)

Summary: Reader went for a breakfast run and came back with 6 new friends.

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Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and thanks to rigid work schedules, it was rare that I had the chance to make a big to-do over it. So, on a particularly lazy Saturday morning at my boyfriend's house, I took advantage of the opportunity to surprise the still-sleeping Wes with breakfast when he woke up.

Well, sort of. I really just planned on getting us something to-go from his favorite local cafe. After all, it was still a morning, even if it was a Saturday. I was lazy. And while I did manage to get the flapjacks and coffee, by the time I finally got back to the house, there was something else that caught his attention.

A few things, actually. Six to be exact.

I know that he had some suspicions because the tone he used when he called out from the couch told me as much. "Hey, babe," he said in a quiet, slightly hesitant voice.

"Hey!" I chirped back, having already happily drunk both all of my coffee and half a smoothie in my limited time awake. I immediately regretted not having decided what else to say, because in the silence we both heard a small collection of muffled mewls.

Wes eyed me suspiciously, his head tilting to the side in a half-hearted attempt to skip over my figure to see the crate sitting behind me. "What's that you got there?" he asked.

"Breakfast!" I replied, waving the crinkly paper and plastic that was somehow still warm despite a teensy-tiny detour I'd made on the way home. Unfortunately for me, Wes didn't seem all that interested in the food. And when he got up from his seat and started to approach me, I tried to remember the years of practice I'd had at making puppy dog eyes.

I would need them.

"And?" he continued, pausing just in front of me with his eyebrows raised.

"A smoothie," I scoffed, feigning confidence. "Which is still breakfast, which I already said. What a silly question, Wes."

"Right," he said with a bit of a disbelieving laugh.

It wasn't until he went to move past me that I spoke again, louder and more excited, "They gave me two straws, isn't that crazy?"

"That is crazy."

He wasn't talking about the straws.

With one large step, he finally made it to the closed crate that was literally begging to be opened. Even as he bent over and undid the latch, I continued to talk like none of it was happening.

"We can still share, though, if you want. And we can share the one straw."

Wes stood again, this time with a tiny kitten squirming in his hands. And as hard as it was, I somehow managed to avoid looking at just how small and fragile it looked in his hands. I resisted the urge to squeal at the sight of my boyfriend holding an adorable little fur ball, and offered him a sip from my smoothie, instead.

Wes accepted my peace offering, but then shattered any semblance of a treaty immediately.

"Is there maybe something else you're forgetting to mention?" he asked with a half-full mouth.

"Mmm, no, I don't think so," I said, shaking my head before I preoccupied my mouth with the smoothie straw again.

I almost got away with it. There was a moment where the two of us stared each other down with slightly narrowed eyes and pursed lips. There was a moment where he thought about letting me off the hook and accepting the collection of crying critters. But then he opened his mouth, and I panicked.

"Wes they were all alone!" I whined loudly, dragging out the words until they slurred into the next, "They need our help!"

"Naturally," he nonchalantly replied.

Still, he didn't put down the kitten in his hand. In fact, he had only cuddled it closer as the conversation went on. I could hear its soft purrs, and I saw the strain on his face as he tried not to smile at the sensation against his chest.

"They're just fosters! It's only for a few weeks! I swear!" I pleaded, hoping the kitten would bolster my puppy dog eyes and seal the deal.

There was no such luck. In the most sarcastic way possible, Wes laughed.

"Oh, I definitely believe you."

Requiring more ammunition, I ducked down and scooped up another kitten from the free-for-all in the crate below us. The pathetic, broken cries mixed with my whimpers as I held the critter besides my cheek.

"Lookit their little face!" I whined. It elicited a soft smile from my boyfriend. The kind of tender look that meant I was very much on my way to winning.

"They are very cute," he whispered. He wasn't talking about the kitten. His free hand reaching out to pet the kitten's forehead. Before he pulled away, he dragged the back of his finger over my cheek, too.

It was just enough to make me feel guilty.

"Are you mad at me?" The words slurred together under my breath, and I brought the kitten to my chest. As it scrambled to earn my attention back, I noticed the way Wes's eyes flickered back and forth between my face and my chest. I wondered how many similarities he saw.

"No, I'm not mad," he finally concluded. But he could tell from my stubborn pout that I didn't entirely believe him. So, with a dreamy sigh he continued, "I love that you want to help everyone and everything. You're very kind."

It was enough praise for me to perk up, although I soon learned that it would be premature. Because just as soon as he told me that he loved my altruism, the catch was coming.

"That being said, we can't foster all the kittens in the world."

"But—" My attempt to cut him off was quickly silenced by a finger over my lips. I scrunched up my face in an early attempt to protest, but Wes finished first.

"But," he drew out the word before he added with a nod, "we can do a few."

My demeanor flipped so quickly that I was almost dizzy with it. The bag hanging from my wrist crashed into his side as I tried to hug him more quickly than I was properly coordinated to handle. Luckily, though, the kittens and flapjacks were fine.

I was even more content, nuzzling my face into his shirt and enjoying the way his laugh resonated in his chest. And just like the kitten, Wes held me closer.

When we did finally part, granting mercy to the squirming babies, he gave me a stern look. I narrowed my eyes back at him in a playful challenge, and eventually he said what I had been waiting for.

"You have to promise me not to be a foster failure, though."

"I won't!" I shouted, bringing the buddy in my hand to cross my chest in a promise. "Kittens forever!"

"Kittens forever," he returned with a chuckle before we sealed the deal with one final kiss.

Weeks later, when it was time to say goodbye to our furry little friends, I held true to my promise not to be a foster failure.

The same couldn't be said for Wes. When I called him out on it following his refusal to let go of his favorite of the bunch, he pointed out very rightly that he'd never made the promise himself.

Still, every couple of weeks, when things finally settle back down and the house falls quiet again, he asks me to go on another breakfast run.