Ocean Kisses

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Doc pov

We stayed by the fire for a while, the soft crackle of the flames filling the room as all the dogs crowded around me, their warm bodies pressing close like I was their anchor. It was both endearing and a little overwhelming, but I didn’t mind. They looked so content, tails thumping gently against the floor.

After some time, my son came downstairs, pausing at the bottom step when he caught sight of the scene. He took one look at me, surrounded by what seemed like an endless pile of fur and wagging tails, and burst out laughing. “Dad, you’re like some kind of dog whisperer!” he teased, shaking his head as he walked closer.

I chuckled softly, though my attention drifted to Ren, who was still curled up close to the fire. He hadn’t moved much since he shifted, and while the warmth from the flames seemed to relax him, a small part of me couldn’t help but worry. Was he still cold? Or maybe just exhausted?

The idea of covering him with a blanket crossed my mind, but I hesitated. With how close he was to the fire, I didn’t want to risk the fabric catching and hurting him. Instead, I reached out gently, resting my hand on his fur. His ears twitched slightly, and he let out a soft huff, his tail giving a single wag to let me know he was still awake.

“You good over there, buddy?” I asked quietly, rubbing his side in small circles.

Ren’s golden eyes cracked open for a moment, meeting mine, before he closed them again with a quiet sigh. It was reassurance enough, though I still couldn’t shake the worry entirely. My son crouched down next to me, scratching one of the other dogs behind the ears.

“He’s fine, Dad,” he said with a grin. “Probably just soaking up the heat like a lizard or something.”

I laughed at that, shaking my head. “Maybe, but I’ll keep an eye on him anyway.” And I did, watching the way the firelight danced across his fur, hoping that he was finally starting to feel at home again.

After a few more moments by the fire, Ren stirred. He let out a soft huff, stretching lazily before getting to his feet. His movements were slow, almost reluctant, as though leaving the fire’s warmth was a battle in itself. Still, he moved away, padding a short distance before circling a spot and collapsing back down with a tired sigh.

I watched him closely, the sluggishness in his movements stirring my concern again. He looked so drained, like all the energy he’d been running on had finally burned out. His breathing slowed as he settled into sleep, his fur rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

I glanced at my son, who was still sitting beside me with a curious look on his face. “He okay?” he asked softly, clearly picking up on my unease.

“I think so,” I replied, though the tightness in my chest remained. “Just tired, I guess. He’s been through a lot.”

We both fell quiet, watching Ren as the firelight flickered softly across the room. He looked peaceful in sleep, but there was still a vulnerability to him that tugged at my heart. I wished I could do more for him, reassure him in a way that would chase away whatever weight he was carrying.

“Do you think he’ll stay this time?” my son asked after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on Ren. “I hope so,” I said honestly. “But it’s up to him. All we can do is make sure he knows he has a place here, with us.”

My son nodded thoughtfully, his attention drifting back to the dogs, who had all settled into their own little naps around us. As the room grew quieter, I couldn’t help but hope Ren’s sleep would bring him the rest he so clearly needed. For now, that was enough.

I started to make dinner, chopping up some carrots, bell peppers, and a handful of mushrooms for a stir-fry. The kitchen smelled of garlic and onions as I moved through the familiar motions, my knife slicing through the vegetables with ease. The soft sizzle from the pan added to the rhythm of the task, the colorful vegetables already brightening up the space.

I was lost in the process, not really paying attention to what was happening around me. That was until I felt the unmistakable sensation of arms wrapping around my waist and a head resting on my shoulder. I froze for a moment, the knife in my hand halting mid-cut as I blinked, surprised.

Ren’s presence was warm, his body leaning lightly against mine. I glanced to the side, catching his eyes for a brief second before he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft sizzling of the food in the pan.

I hesitated, then chuckled softly, the tension in my shoulders easing. "You’re going to have to let go if you want dinner," I said, teasing lightly as I gently nudged him off.

Ren didn’t immediately pull away, though. Instead, he stayed there for a few more seconds, his grip tightening slightly, like he was reluctant to break the contact. After a beat, he let go, stepping back just enough to allow me to continue cooking, though he remained nearby, quietly watching me. His silence was comforting, but there was something about his eyes that felt… a little distant, like he was still working through something in his head.

I went back to chopping, focusing on the task at hand, but every now and then, I could feel Ren’s gaze on me, and it added a strange warmth to the air. It felt different, this quiet intimacy, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret it yet.

“I’m making stir-fry,” I said, breaking the silence with a soft smile. “I thought it might be something we could all enjoy tonight. Are you hungry?”