Why didn’t you take the train? Seriously—why didn’t you just take the fucking train? You mentally berated yourself as you jogged through the soaking streets of New York, water dripping from your ears and sleeves. You could’ve just taken the damn train and avoided being this soaked.

But no—you had to be bold. Adventurous. Stubborn. You had a perfectly good home, even if it meant living with your mom. But instead, here you were, running through a thunderstorm just to reach Chace’s apartment like some overdramatic romcom lead.

The coat you threw on because it was “just a little chilly” was now practically clinging to your body like a second skin, drenched all the way through. You didn’t take the train because, in your words: “It won’t take that long” and “I should stretch my legs more.” Great call, genius.

As you rounded a corner, a passing car hit a puddle just right, splashing you head to toe. Water soaked through your fur, sending a fresh wave of cold down your spine. Perfect. Just your luck. Miserable, shivering, and soaked, you finally stumbled up to Chace’s building, dragging your wet feet across the floor with every squeaky step as you climbed the stairs to the second floor. You raised your fist and knocked.

Inside, Chace’s ears flicked at the sound. He set his herbal tea down, padded over to the door, and pulled it open... only to blink at the sight of you.

“...Did you swim from New Jersey to see me or something?” He smirked, clearly enjoying himself far too much as he motioned you in. Your coat hit the floor with a dramatic, soggy thud.

Without missing a beat, he headed toward the bathroom and came back holding a towel. “Here. Try not to undress in the middle of my apartment though... I’d rather not call FEMA about indoor flooding.” A chuckle escaped him as he turned and wandered into the kitchen.

You peeled off your wet clothes and dried off as best you could, all while wondering—why the hell does Chace have so much peppermint tea.. no infact.. Tea in general? What is he, British?

Wrapped in the towel, you stepped out of the bathroom to the smell of the tea and the sound of Chace fumbling around in his room. When he came back, he had a comically oversized shirt in his hands.

“Here. Wear this while your clothes dry,” he mumbled, glancing away awkwardly. But you saw it—his tail was wagging. That smug bastard.

He handed you the shirt and turned, though his ears were clearly still tuned to your every move. You slipped it on. It swallowed you whole, hanging low over your thighs. The fabric was warm and smelled faintly like him.

Honestly, if you bent down too far, he’d probably get a whole damn show.

When he finally turned back around, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to look innocent, he gave you that teasing smirk again.

“So... what brings you to my place after sailing across the seven seas?”