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Peter always believed that the term “whipped” is outdated and albeit sexist. Why couldn’t a guy just really love his girlfriend/boyfriend without his friends insulting him? (Because said friends are probably just shitty partners). Peter is simply trying to be the best boyfriend he can be. He moved to Paris with Sam because he wanted to not only support his own loving, supportive boyfriend- but because he wanted to. Is that so hard to believe? He can’t believe that more people wouldn’t want to follow someone like Sam to the ends of the Earth.
But maybe he is a little whipped for Sam.
Uplifting his life with the man he wants to marry to a country he dreamt of vacationing in isn’t as much of a sacrifice as people make it out to be. He knows more French than Sam anyway; someone has to order dinner or ask the locals for directions. And he is more than happy to teach Sam useful phrases and questions. He’s happy to do anything for Sam… even if that means adopting a dog.
Peter didn’t hate dogs. He just… doesn’t love how loud and slobbery and messy they are; everything he loves that cats aren’t. Sam seems like he’s too nervous to ask for anything he wants though; as if he still feels like Peter has sacrificed so much. He really hasn’t; he doesn’t miss his job or old apartment in the slightest. He isn’t exactly a homebody- he’s made friends rather quickly. He had an office job- the French branch of Presage Paper- practically lined up for him before he even bought a plane ticket. He is happy. God, he is more fucking content then he was in New York.
Yet Sam still won’t verbally say he wants a dog. He’ll tear up at those Sarah Mclachlan dog commercials and tell his cat-person boyfriend how much he wishes he could adopt all those dogs. He lights up at every dog that passes them on the street. He seemingly attracts dogs at every turn (Peter teases him about having the energy of a Golden Retriever). As stubborn as Peter can be, he can only resist Sam’s ridiculously powerful (yet equally subtle) puppy dog eyes. So, Peter finds himself spending his lunch breaks touring pounds and reading ads on Facebook for puppies. He needs the perfect dog… one that Peter wouldn’t rip his hair out trying to train.
Eventually Peter finds the “perfect” dog. A small, chubby beagle/pitbull mix that was the calmest out of her rowdy, nippy siblings. Peter had picked her up to look her in the eyes and nearly sobbed when the puppy licked his nose. Okay… maybe Peter does like dogs. Or maybe he is just so madly enamored with Sam that he’s willing to put up with all the shoes he’ll definitely lose in the future.
Peter has the whole surprise planned out- down to the very last detail. Sam probably won’t be getting home until eight or nine pm (probably with some sort of fresh dessert or fruit he stole from work for Peter). Peter will be the picture of a happy nonchalant boyfriend; asking Sam how his day was and kiss his cheek. They’ll make short, sweet conversation before settling down on the couch for a movie, cuddles and probably some making out. As long as everything goes according to plan, Peter will hand his boyfriend a small, purple collar. That’s his plan after all. Doesn’t mean it’ll work out.
And, of course, nothing goes according to plan. Peter hadn’t accounted for Sam being home early.
Peter had taken the day off to prepare the house for a puppy while Sam was off cooking for the masses. He had been so confident that he’d have plenty of time… When five o’clock rolls around, Peter is stumbling through the front door, keys clenched between his teeth and arms loaded up with the small crate holding the tiny puppy (he wanted Sam to name her) and bags of dog supplies. He huffs in exertion, setting the crate down before perking up at the sound of rustling in the kitchen. Peter freezes as a curse burns the tip of his tongue. He prays that a robber broke in and is… Baking from the smells of it.
“Peter?” Sam’s voice rings out and sure enough, the man himself is poking his head out the kitchen. A wide smile stretches across Sam’s handsome, flour covered face as he rushes over to greet Peter. His long strides came to a halt as soon as Sam’s eyes landed on the crate.
“You’re supposed to be at work. It’s-it’s only 5:08!” Peter breathes, thick brows brushing his hairline. Sam almost looks sheepish but his confusion is mostly prominent.
“Oh, well… I got off early so I could… surprise you.” Sam huffs, edging towards a frantic Pete. “So… what’s in the crate?” The little shit asks, grinning as he crouches in front of the crate. Behind Sam’s teasing smirk and words, he could see his boyfriend’s wide-eyed excitement.
Peter releases a heavy sigh, settling on his knees as he sets the crate down. Sam’s gaze never wavers as Peter unlocks the crate.
“Oh, Peter.” Sam immediately lights up as the puppy waddles over to him, sniffing his outstretched hand. The younger man squeaks as the puppy crawls into his lap. “Peter? Is… Are you serious?”
“This was supposed to be a surprise. I was gonna surprise you with a… puppy.” He grumbles, glancing up to find Sam peppering kisses to the dog’s head. He looks beyond happy… Peter’s grief over his plans being ruined is quickly receding. Sam’s eyes are misty as he sniffles softly.
Sam chuckles softly as he shakes his head. “Do I not look surprised? God, I thought you hated dogs. What’s-what’s her name?” Sam mumbles, moving to search through the bags and pulling out a colorful rope for the puppy to play with.
“I figured you’d want to name her.” Peter remarks, smoothing some hair out of his eyes. He hesitates a long beat before reaching out to stroke the dog’s soft ears. Her little face is wrinkly and smooshed and she’s the cutest animal Peter’s ever seen.
Sam lights up, scooping the dog up to look her over. He’s quiet for what feels like several minutes, only humming and shaking his head occasionally. “Oh, I know! I wanna call her Bay Leaf…” Sam grins, holding Bay Leaf to his chest.
Peter can’t help his breathless, fond laugh. Sam’s excitement was so endearing. He can only hope that this step, this big commitment, will convince his boyfriend that he wants to be here. He wants to settle down and start a new chapter of their life together.
“I like that… It’s fitting.” He offers, eyes fond as he watches Sam coo down at the puppy. “I just… I knew you wanted a dog. You never said anything but you didn’t have to.” He chuckles. Peter couldn’t always read Sam like he would have liked to but his boyfriend wasn’t exactly a closed book either. His Sam wears his heart on his sleeve.
Sam continues to sniffle and fawn over Bay Leaf for a few more seconds before turning his watery gaze to Peter. “I love you, Peter. I really, really do.” He sets the dog down so he can pull Peter in for a tight hug. It’s nearly crushing but Peter returns it ten fold. “Thank you…”
Peter takes advantage of their close proximity and peppers warm, lazy kisses to Sam’s cheek, jaw and shoulder. “Love you too, Sammy… I’m so happy we moved here together. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He reassures, carding his fingers through Sam’s dark, soft hair. He can hear Sam’s shaky breath of relief as he feels the warm press of lips against his jaw.
“You mean it? You’re happy here?” Sam mumbles, voice small but strained. He’s worried…
Peter huffs a soft, exasperated laugh. “Of course I mean it… I adopted a puppy. I’m serious about wanting to have the perfect domestic life with you… you goof.” He teases, pulling back enough to look the younger man over. Sam rolls his eyes but there’s an obvious smile tugging at his mouth. Peter wipes a spot of flour from Sam’s cheek, cupping his face gently and connects their lips in a short, sweet kiss. He’s perfectly content to keep Sam in his arms sharing gentle kisses but Bay Leaf isn’t on board. She squirms out of Sam’s lap before charging for the kitchen.
“She must smell something good.” Peter remarks with a slight smirk, leaning back on his palms. He sniffs softly, brows knitting when he catches a whiff of something burning. It’s not a smell he’s familiar with when Sam cooks- his boyfriend’s a perfectionist genius in the kitchen. “Do you smell that?” Peter asks with a soft frown. Sam hums as he rifles through the bags of dog goodies, clearly not paying attention. It’s not until the screech of the smoke detector that he curses and stumbles to his feet.
“The fucking scones !” Sam seethes and Peter throws his head back with loud, hearty laughter.