For Reasons Wretched and Divine

Everything and Nothing

Onion did not share Happy's excitement when they pulled into Sunshine's yard.

The pitbull turned his head to the man and gave an exasperated sigh, giant brown eyes pleading with him to turn around and go home. He had spent four nights with two children that were more energetic than Juice on speed; the pooch was pleading for solitude.

Happy snorted and stroked the top of his head, his want to see Sunshine overriding Onion's plea. With a groan, Onion followed him out of the beat-up junker car he had borrowed from Juice, a spray of rust dusting the gravel driveway as he slammed the passenger door shut.

"Onion!"

The beast in question's docked tail started wagging at the exclamation, trotting to the woman kneeling in the doorway. She was grinning that particular smile, the one that made Happy's heart do funny things in his chest. The joy stretched the sides of her mouth so far it had to have hurt, every stark white tooth in her mouth visible, the motion so forceful that her eyes crinkled up. Happy's stomach fluttered and hiccupped, his heart battering at the cage it was in, hollering to fly away like it wanted.

Onion gladly walked into the open embrace of her arms, snuffling his blunt nose around her face and into her hair, his whole body joining into his wagging tail.

Happy swallowed down his galloping heart, a few steps behind the dog.

"My goodness, such a handsome boy," Sunshine crooned, scratching behind his ears as if she had read the dog's mind as to where his favorite spot was, and he groaned, leaning against her, eyes fluttering shut.

"Aww," her eyes flicked up to Happy's for the first time, a glint of mischief present that he had never seen before. "Who's a good boy?" she asked, a question obviously directed at the dog, but her eye contact never wavered with Happy.

His mouth was suddenly and mercilessly dry.

///////

After licking Happy's entire face, Peaches had herded Onion into the backyard in less than four minutes, leaving the humans to an empty house. One of those humans, who had been nervous maybe five times in his adult life, wondered briefly wondered why the actual hell his palms were so fucking sweaty.

Sunshine wasn't dressed to impress, jeans and an oversized t-shirt, her hair gathered in a messy ponytail and without a trace of makeup. Not that it mattered how she was dressed, Happy would've salivated if she was in a hazmat suit simply because it was Sunshine.

"So how long did you sleep for? You hardly sounded alive," Sunshine joked over her shoulder, reaching for the refrigerator.

"About fifteen hours, give or take," Happy rubbed the top of his head with a shrug.

"Wow, I'm impressed," she handed him a plate of something he didn't recognize but looked pastry-ish, so he knew it would be divine.

Sunshine froze, causing Happy to pause as well, and followed the line of her eyes.

The cuff of his hoodie had slipped up, exposing the circle of the worn raw flesh of his wrist where he had been handcuffed for seventy-nine hours straight. Happy was a fidgeter; he couldn't keep his hands behind his back for that long without moving them, even when the end results were a bloody stain on the floor and scabbed over wrists.

Instinct yanked his hand away, so fast she almost dropped the plate. Sunshine startled at the motion, taking a step back in shock, her eyes wider than he had ever seen.

"Sorry," she said immediately, without hesitation.

"No," he forced the word out. Forced himself to not cover it up, forced himself to not retreat, to keep the rude, defensive comments in his throat.