ifeelbetter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ifeelbetter) wrote2010-12-08 01:59 am
ifeelbetter) wrote2010-12-08 01:59 am
Entry tags:
Holiday Post #7: Hawaii 5-0 RPF + puppy
Title: Plenty Implied
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ifeelbetter
Disclaimer: I own nothing of value. And these are all scurrilous lies for which I can only blame Alex O'Loughlin's face. And Scott Caan's hair. But the important bit is to remember not to blame me.
Summary: Alex has a new puppy just in time for the holidays.
Notes: Apparently, Alex has a new puppy. This dog is probably the most adorable dog that has ever lived. And he sent her to a spa and named her after his grandfather.
The fact that Alex needed a ride somewhere was not surprising. Alex got people to do favors for him all the time--the sort of stupid favor you agree to and start doing before you have time to realize that there's no reason in the entire world why the man can't do the thing for himself. But Alex would be grinning at that point and already launched into the next phase of whatever madness he was working on--because there was always something--and then. Well. Favor kept being done.
Scott had sort of stopped with the entire second half of the process. If Alex asked him to do dumb shit--"Can you just hold this over your head and count to five?" or "Flip the light switch on the count of three"--he just internally shrugged and did the thing. It was easier to skip straight to the step where he was explaining to someone else why he was cleaning up some giant Alex-related mess than to bother trying to dissuade the man.
So when Alex called to ask him for a ride, he circled the block and headed over. He didn't even ask where the ride was going to be to.
That probably was his first mistake.
Alex was on the corner and he had a dog. A dog that looked like it had been swimming in a sewer.
"Why do you have a--" Scott started to ask when he pulled up alongside Alex. Then he realized that Alex was trying to put Sewer The Dog into his car. "Oh, hell no."
"No, wait, I can explain," Alex said. He had a fluffy pink princess towel wrapped around the dog's back and he was trying to maneuver the dog into the backseat without it scrambling out of the towel. The dog, however, seemed really invested in the idea of scrambling out of the towel and tracking sewer--or whatever--all over the interior of Scott's car.
"You can explain," Scott repeated, dripping with sarcasm. "You can explain why there's a sewer-with-a-hint-of-dog in my car right now."
"It's going to be Christmas in a couple of weeks, dude," Alex said.
"That is not a reason for a dog to be in my backseat."
"You can't expect me to leave her here," Alex said, scandalized. "It's going to be Christmas. It's our responsibility to help out all those in need. Especially adorable puppies."
"Alright, fine. Fine. Where am I taking this incredibly lucky puppy?" Scott said. "Please tell me it's somewhere with a hose."
"I made her an appointment at Cocojor,"said Alex.
Scott gave him a Look which--having had a lifetime's experience with--he knew fully expressed the disbelief he was feeling.
"What?" Alex asked, wide-eyed. "She needs grooming!"
"She's a dog. You're not going to turn out to be one of those people who makes their dogs wear sweaters, are you? Please tell me you're not one of those people."
"You just said she needs a good cleaning," Alex pointed out. "I'm an actor. I'm supposed to pay people to do this sort of thing for me."
"Fine. Let's go to Coco-fricking-jor."
* * *
Alex, it turned out, was one of those people who make their dogs wear sweaters.
"You know this is Hawaii, right? She's not going to catch cold," Grace pointed out. It sounded too polite to be mocking but Scott was beginning to think that all those Canadian manners just meant that Grace was laughing at everyone on the inside.
Scott pointed triumphantly.
"I said that!" he said. "I said that yesterday!"
"But it's got an amaryllis on it," said Alex. "Look." He picked up the dog--the much fluffier, cleaner dog--and turned her so they could see the pattern on the sweater.
"Who told you that was an amaryllis?" Grace asked, still in that too-polite-to-be-real tone. "It looks more..." she bit the corner of her lip as she searched for the word "...generic to me."
Scott was impressed. He would have gone with "stupid" instead of "generic."
"It looks stupid, if you ask me," he said. Everyone he'd ever known had told him he had a problem with mouthing off.
"I think it's holiday appropriate," said Alex. "You like the amaryllis, don't you? Don't you, Reggie?" The puppy licked his nose.
"Reggie? I thought it was a girl?"
"Yeah, you're a girl, aren't you?" Alex grinned and the puppy--Reggie--licked his nose again. "Yes, you are, Reggie."
"Reggie is an..." Grace swallowed into the pause, again searching for a polite word choice "...unusual choice for a girl."
"It was my grandfather's name," Alex said as if that explained everything.
"That was her point," Scott supplemented. It didn't look like Grace was going to follow through. "Grandfather. Not a name for a girl dog."
"I know a girl-dog named Reggie," said Alex. He put the dog back on the ground and she circled his legs, whipping her tail frantically.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Alex turned the grin on Scott and Scott forgot what he was talking about for a second. "This dog."
"You can't prove that it's a decent name for a girl based on the fact that you named your girl-dog--" but, really, what was the point in arguing? Scott gave up.
It was sort of worth a lot of hassle to get a grin like that directed at him.
It would take weeks to get the sewer-smell out of his car, though.
* * *
The fact that he couldn't been home--wouldn't see his dad till late January at the earliest--for Christmas Eve sent Scott into one of those stupid spirals of homesickness that he couldn't pull himself out of. It wasn't like home was something he had ever been really invested in to begin with. Home had been a fractured thing from the start. It wasn't about geography, his homesickness.
So he curled up with Dot and watched re-runs of M*A*S*H* and waited for the stupid homesickness-for-nowhere to go away.
The fact that Alex--having been in possession of his puppy for a good week or two--hadn't shown up before then should have been enough for Scott to predict that Alex would choose Christmas Eve as the night for their dogs to become friends. So when Scott had to pull himself out of the Dot-cocoon on the coach at 2AM, he shouldn't have been surprised to find a disturbingly alert Alex and pet on his stoop.
"Why? What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He was trying to remember whether this was one of the things he'd washed the weekend before. He had a feeling it wasn't. He had a distinct feeling that he hadn't washed it and it probably smelled.
Reggie barked happily and skidded in past his feet.
"Merry Christmas, Scrooge," Alex said and pulled Scott in for a tight hug.
Why did he think that was appropriate, Scott wondered. Why did he think co-stars ever hugged each other like that?
"You had better have--" he started to threaten but Alex just grinned and waggled the brown paper bag in his hand.
"I come bearing gifts," he promised. "'No empty-handed Aussie invasions,' right?"
That was a rule Scott had made in the first week. It had actually put a rather large dent in the late-night surprise visits. Then Alex had started getting creative in his attempts at appropriate house-gifts. Often, it was a pineapple.
That night, though, it was a rather nice Scotch.
Dot was sniffing Reggie's ass. They looked companionable enough.
"Fine," Scott agreed.
Better than being alone, right? And there was Scotch. Drinking is good, right?
* * *
It was Alex's idea to sing carols. It was also Alex's idea to put the fake antlers on their dogs and take them caroling down the beach.
"You don't even know, man," Alex told a surfer after the third time someone begged them to stop. "This guy--" he pulled Scott towards him with an arm too tightly wrapper around his neck, "--this guys--he's a professional singer. MC Mad Skillz in the hous--"
"Mad Skillz! Right here!" Scott agreed. "Don't make me start rapping!"
The surfer sighed, shook his head, and trotted back down the sand to his group of friends.
"I could start any minute," Scott shouted after him.
"Oh there's no place like hooome for the holidays," Alex sang loudly. Reggie circled his legs and yowled companionably.
"‘Cause no matter how far away you roam, when you pine for the sunshine--" Scott joined in. Dot didn't join in--she was too busy trying to extricate herself from the reindeer antlers.
"of a friendly face for the holidays, you can’t beat home, sweet hoooome," they continued. Alex was obviously singing the Perry Como version but Scott was all about Garth Brooks--no one sings it like Garth--but they weren't letting the incongruities stop them.
Dot rolled in the sand, trying to rub the antlers off her head. She might also have been pretending to be dead, a la the possum, in hopes that Alex and Scott would stop singing if they thought she was gravely injured. Scott wouldn't put it past her. She was a clever dog like that.
Instead, Reggie bounced excitedly around her, punctuating the leaps with happy yips. Dot wriggled mournfully.
"I don't think--" Scott said but had to give way for an enormous belch.
"Ha! I knoooow," Alex said, leaning his head towards Scott. Oh, right. He still had O'Loughlin all over his neck. Alex had never let go, had he?
"Shut--just you shut--" Scott said, waggling the empty bottle at Alex's nose. Or. You know. Somewhere near his nose.
"You hit my nose!" Alex whined. "I'm confiscating this." He tugged the bottle out of Scott's hand.
"You can't just--"
"Wait. I'll be Betty Carter and you be Ray Charles, alright?" Alex said, putting his hand over Scott's mouth. "On the count of three. One...two...three...I really can't stay..." He frowned at Scott. "Why aren't you Ray Charles?"
Scott licked the inside of the hand Alex was still covering his mouth with.
"Oh," Alex said. He still didn't move his hand. And he was looking suddenly far too serious.
Scott had to turn in towards Alex to get a hand up to his mouth, to move Alex's hand away. They were suddenly more-or-less pressed up against each other, very much in the style of a trashy Hawaiian rom-com. Very opening-scene of Grease. And it looked like dawn was beginning to break over the ocean.
Scott was trying to make his hand move Alex's hand. His hand seemed to have other plans, though. It seemed to want to trace Alex's hand instead but that seemed to work too. Alex's hand shifted just-to-the-left and suddenly it was more like cupping Scott's cheek than covering his mouth.
"I just--" Alex said just before he ducked down--too fucking much like Grease, Scott thought, and Olivia Newton John was a fucking Australian too, wasn't she?--and kissed Scott the way movie heroes always kiss the girl.
"I'm not wearing the spandex and that's final," Scott said when Alex pulled back a second later. "You're the bloody Australian. I don't see why I should be Sandra Dee."
"You do have that Danny Zucko hair," Alex agreed, grinned, and ducked down for another go.
Dot, meanwhile, had triumphed over the fake antlers and was celebrating her victory by sniffing Reggie's ass again.
Author:
ifeelbetterDisclaimer: I own nothing of value. And these are all scurrilous lies for which I can only blame Alex O'Loughlin's face. And Scott Caan's hair. But the important bit is to remember not to blame me.
Summary: Alex has a new puppy just in time for the holidays.
Notes: Apparently, Alex has a new puppy. This dog is probably the most adorable dog that has ever lived. And he sent her to a spa and named her after his grandfather.
The fact that Alex needed a ride somewhere was not surprising. Alex got people to do favors for him all the time--the sort of stupid favor you agree to and start doing before you have time to realize that there's no reason in the entire world why the man can't do the thing for himself. But Alex would be grinning at that point and already launched into the next phase of whatever madness he was working on--because there was always something--and then. Well. Favor kept being done.
Scott had sort of stopped with the entire second half of the process. If Alex asked him to do dumb shit--"Can you just hold this over your head and count to five?" or "Flip the light switch on the count of three"--he just internally shrugged and did the thing. It was easier to skip straight to the step where he was explaining to someone else why he was cleaning up some giant Alex-related mess than to bother trying to dissuade the man.
So when Alex called to ask him for a ride, he circled the block and headed over. He didn't even ask where the ride was going to be to.
That probably was his first mistake.
Alex was on the corner and he had a dog. A dog that looked like it had been swimming in a sewer.
"Why do you have a--" Scott started to ask when he pulled up alongside Alex. Then he realized that Alex was trying to put Sewer The Dog into his car. "Oh, hell no."
"No, wait, I can explain," Alex said. He had a fluffy pink princess towel wrapped around the dog's back and he was trying to maneuver the dog into the backseat without it scrambling out of the towel. The dog, however, seemed really invested in the idea of scrambling out of the towel and tracking sewer--or whatever--all over the interior of Scott's car.
"You can explain," Scott repeated, dripping with sarcasm. "You can explain why there's a sewer-with-a-hint-of-dog in my car right now."
"It's going to be Christmas in a couple of weeks, dude," Alex said.
"That is not a reason for a dog to be in my backseat."
"You can't expect me to leave her here," Alex said, scandalized. "It's going to be Christmas. It's our responsibility to help out all those in need. Especially adorable puppies."
"Alright, fine. Fine. Where am I taking this incredibly lucky puppy?" Scott said. "Please tell me it's somewhere with a hose."
"I made her an appointment at Cocojor,"said Alex.
Scott gave him a Look which--having had a lifetime's experience with--he knew fully expressed the disbelief he was feeling.
"What?" Alex asked, wide-eyed. "She needs grooming!"
"She's a dog. You're not going to turn out to be one of those people who makes their dogs wear sweaters, are you? Please tell me you're not one of those people."
"You just said she needs a good cleaning," Alex pointed out. "I'm an actor. I'm supposed to pay people to do this sort of thing for me."
"Fine. Let's go to Coco-fricking-jor."
Alex, it turned out, was one of those people who make their dogs wear sweaters.
"You know this is Hawaii, right? She's not going to catch cold," Grace pointed out. It sounded too polite to be mocking but Scott was beginning to think that all those Canadian manners just meant that Grace was laughing at everyone on the inside.
Scott pointed triumphantly.
"I said that!" he said. "I said that yesterday!"
"But it's got an amaryllis on it," said Alex. "Look." He picked up the dog--the much fluffier, cleaner dog--and turned her so they could see the pattern on the sweater.
"Who told you that was an amaryllis?" Grace asked, still in that too-polite-to-be-real tone. "It looks more..." she bit the corner of her lip as she searched for the word "...generic to me."
Scott was impressed. He would have gone with "stupid" instead of "generic."
"It looks stupid, if you ask me," he said. Everyone he'd ever known had told him he had a problem with mouthing off.
"I think it's holiday appropriate," said Alex. "You like the amaryllis, don't you? Don't you, Reggie?" The puppy licked his nose.
"Reggie? I thought it was a girl?"
"Yeah, you're a girl, aren't you?" Alex grinned and the puppy--Reggie--licked his nose again. "Yes, you are, Reggie."
"Reggie is an..." Grace swallowed into the pause, again searching for a polite word choice "...unusual choice for a girl."
"It was my grandfather's name," Alex said as if that explained everything.
"That was her point," Scott supplemented. It didn't look like Grace was going to follow through. "Grandfather. Not a name for a girl dog."
"I know a girl-dog named Reggie," said Alex. He put the dog back on the ground and she circled his legs, whipping her tail frantically.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Alex turned the grin on Scott and Scott forgot what he was talking about for a second. "This dog."
"You can't prove that it's a decent name for a girl based on the fact that you named your girl-dog--" but, really, what was the point in arguing? Scott gave up.
It was sort of worth a lot of hassle to get a grin like that directed at him.
It would take weeks to get the sewer-smell out of his car, though.
The fact that he couldn't been home--wouldn't see his dad till late January at the earliest--for Christmas Eve sent Scott into one of those stupid spirals of homesickness that he couldn't pull himself out of. It wasn't like home was something he had ever been really invested in to begin with. Home had been a fractured thing from the start. It wasn't about geography, his homesickness.
So he curled up with Dot and watched re-runs of M*A*S*H* and waited for the stupid homesickness-for-nowhere to go away.
The fact that Alex--having been in possession of his puppy for a good week or two--hadn't shown up before then should have been enough for Scott to predict that Alex would choose Christmas Eve as the night for their dogs to become friends. So when Scott had to pull himself out of the Dot-cocoon on the coach at 2AM, he shouldn't have been surprised to find a disturbingly alert Alex and pet on his stoop.
"Why? What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He was trying to remember whether this was one of the things he'd washed the weekend before. He had a feeling it wasn't. He had a distinct feeling that he hadn't washed it and it probably smelled.
Reggie barked happily and skidded in past his feet.
"Merry Christmas, Scrooge," Alex said and pulled Scott in for a tight hug.
Why did he think that was appropriate, Scott wondered. Why did he think co-stars ever hugged each other like that?
"You had better have--" he started to threaten but Alex just grinned and waggled the brown paper bag in his hand.
"I come bearing gifts," he promised. "'No empty-handed Aussie invasions,' right?"
That was a rule Scott had made in the first week. It had actually put a rather large dent in the late-night surprise visits. Then Alex had started getting creative in his attempts at appropriate house-gifts. Often, it was a pineapple.
That night, though, it was a rather nice Scotch.
Dot was sniffing Reggie's ass. They looked companionable enough.
"Fine," Scott agreed.
Better than being alone, right? And there was Scotch. Drinking is good, right?
It was Alex's idea to sing carols. It was also Alex's idea to put the fake antlers on their dogs and take them caroling down the beach.
"You don't even know, man," Alex told a surfer after the third time someone begged them to stop. "This guy--" he pulled Scott towards him with an arm too tightly wrapper around his neck, "--this guys--he's a professional singer. MC Mad Skillz in the hous--"
"Mad Skillz! Right here!" Scott agreed. "Don't make me start rapping!"
The surfer sighed, shook his head, and trotted back down the sand to his group of friends.
"I could start any minute," Scott shouted after him.
"Oh there's no place like hooome for the holidays," Alex sang loudly. Reggie circled his legs and yowled companionably.
"‘Cause no matter how far away you roam, when you pine for the sunshine--" Scott joined in. Dot didn't join in--she was too busy trying to extricate herself from the reindeer antlers.
"of a friendly face for the holidays, you can’t beat home, sweet hoooome," they continued. Alex was obviously singing the Perry Como version but Scott was all about Garth Brooks--no one sings it like Garth--but they weren't letting the incongruities stop them.
Dot rolled in the sand, trying to rub the antlers off her head. She might also have been pretending to be dead, a la the possum, in hopes that Alex and Scott would stop singing if they thought she was gravely injured. Scott wouldn't put it past her. She was a clever dog like that.
Instead, Reggie bounced excitedly around her, punctuating the leaps with happy yips. Dot wriggled mournfully.
"I don't think--" Scott said but had to give way for an enormous belch.
"Ha! I knoooow," Alex said, leaning his head towards Scott. Oh, right. He still had O'Loughlin all over his neck. Alex had never let go, had he?
"Shut--just you shut--" Scott said, waggling the empty bottle at Alex's nose. Or. You know. Somewhere near his nose.
"You hit my nose!" Alex whined. "I'm confiscating this." He tugged the bottle out of Scott's hand.
"You can't just--"
"Wait. I'll be Betty Carter and you be Ray Charles, alright?" Alex said, putting his hand over Scott's mouth. "On the count of three. One...two...three...I really can't stay..." He frowned at Scott. "Why aren't you Ray Charles?"
Scott licked the inside of the hand Alex was still covering his mouth with.
"Oh," Alex said. He still didn't move his hand. And he was looking suddenly far too serious.
Scott had to turn in towards Alex to get a hand up to his mouth, to move Alex's hand away. They were suddenly more-or-less pressed up against each other, very much in the style of a trashy Hawaiian rom-com. Very opening-scene of Grease. And it looked like dawn was beginning to break over the ocean.
Scott was trying to make his hand move Alex's hand. His hand seemed to have other plans, though. It seemed to want to trace Alex's hand instead but that seemed to work too. Alex's hand shifted just-to-the-left and suddenly it was more like cupping Scott's cheek than covering his mouth.
"I just--" Alex said just before he ducked down--too fucking much like Grease, Scott thought, and Olivia Newton John was a fucking Australian too, wasn't she?--and kissed Scott the way movie heroes always kiss the girl.
"I'm not wearing the spandex and that's final," Scott said when Alex pulled back a second later. "You're the bloody Australian. I don't see why I should be Sandra Dee."
"You do have that Danny Zucko hair," Alex agreed, grinned, and ducked down for another go.
Dot, meanwhile, had triumphed over the fake antlers and was celebrating her victory by sniffing Reggie's ass again.
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I love this so, so much.
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...it will be voluntary. And I bet he's gonna be the one to do it. He is the Australian in the room, after all.
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I'm going to go sit in a corner and be incoherent for a little while, now.
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