The outline of the Bucknell house stood tall at the end of the street, its silhouette looming out of the darkness. Chris glanced up at it as they approached, a shiver running through him that had little to do with the cold.
“I forgot how eerie this place could look at night…” he muttered, his breath puffing out in front of him.
Mason chuckled, his paw still resting comfortably on Chris’ shoulder. “Yeah, the exterior definitely needs some work. I plan on sprucing it up a bit come spring, but keeping the same aesthetic. I don’t want to change it too much, y’know?”
Chris nodded as they climbed the steps to the wide, wraparound porch. Mason reached into his pocket, fishing out a set of keys before unlocking the heavy wooden door in front of them.
“Come on in,” Mason said, stepping aside to let Chris enter first.
The inside of the manor looked a little cleaner than it had that morning, with the floors appearing to have been swept and some of the furniture having been dusted. Mason shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door, then turned to Chris with an easy smile.
“Go ahead and make yourself at home. I’ll go ahead and warm up some tea.”
Chris nodded, wandering into the living room as Mason disappeared into the kitchen. He glanced around, looking at the various tools and construction materials strewn about. It was clear that Mason was putting in a good deal of effort into the renovations.
Chris’s thoughts drifted back to his hands, still tucked into his coat pockets. Something was definitely happening to him, and Mason’s mention of his “coat” left him feeling a bit uneasy. It seemed likely that Mason—along with everybody else in town—didn’t see anything wrong with him. To them, he was the same old Chris. He flexed his fingers nervously, the thick nails brushing against the fabric of his pockets.
“Here we go,” Mason said, reappearing from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. He handed one to Chris, then motioned to the couch. “Sit. You’ve been on your feet all day.”
Chris sat down, cradling the warm mug between his hands. The tea’s scent was calming, but his mind buzzed with questions he wasn’t even sure how to ask.
“You’re quiet,” Mason observed, sitting down beside him with a curious tilt of his head. “Is everything okay?”
Chris hesitated, taking a small sip of tea to stall. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…got a lot on my mind.”
Mason didn’t press, but his gaze was steady. His tail gently wagged against the couch behind him, brushing against Chris every now and then. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you can talk to me.”
Chris offered a small smile, appreciative of the gesture, but he wasn’t exactly sure where to start. Instead, he moved to change the subject. “So, wallpaper, huh? You really planning on tackling that tonight?”
Mason laughed, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “Probably not. That was more of an excuse to leave before I overstayed my welcome. Your mom is great, but she gets this look when it’s time to wrap things up.”
Chris snorted, feeling himself relax a bit. “Yeah, she definitely does.”
Slowly, they fell into conversation, Mason’s warmth—both figuratively and literally—slowly easing Chris’s nerves. He felt himself sink deeper into the couch, the warmth of the tea and the dog-man next to him easing the lingering chill in his bones. Mason’s tail gave another slow, rhythmic wag, brushing against Chris’s leg in a way that almost felt intentional.
“You really don’t like the cold, huh?” Mason asked, his tone gentle but teasing.
Chris shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. “Not all of us come with a built-in heater.”
Mason chuckled, the sound low and soft, as he reached over and rested a paw against Chris’s shoulder. “Well, I’m happy to share. C’mere.”
Before Chris could protest—or even think to, for that matter—Mason shifted closer, pulling him into his side once more. The husky’s fur felt like a warm blanket, easily melting his nerves.
“See? Much better,” Mason murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He gave Chris’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before settling there. Chris let out a soft sigh, laying his head against the husky’s shoulder. Mason moved himself slightly, making sure that he didn’t bump into the short, velvety protrusions on Chris’s head.
“Y’know,” Mason said after a moment. “For someone who doesn’t like the cold, you sure stayed out there longer than you needed to. You could’ve just walked me back halfway if you were freezing like that.”
Chris laughed quietly. “And give Jake another reason to make fun of me? No thanks.”
Mason’s tail thumped against the couch again. “Fair. But next time, just stick close to me. I’ve got plenty of warmth for the both of us.
Chris glanced up at him, catching a faint sparkle of mischief in Mason’s deep blue eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
“Maybe,” Mason replied, grinning. “But you’re not complaining, are you?”
Chris didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. The quiet ambience of the night filled the space between them, and for a moment, everything else—his hands, the bumps, the questions, the uncertainty—faded into the background.
As Mason’s paw shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over Chris’s shoulder in an absent-minded motion, Chris couldn’t help but feel something he’d hadn’t felt in a while: comfort.