At Your Service

The whine of drills and sparks singeing metal played in harmony with the sound of heavy rainfall. The toxic combination of gasoline, oil and fresh water bit at his sensitive nose. However, with the years spent in the auto shop the familiar smells have become comforting. He leaned against the steel service door frame, watching and guarding the entrance protecting the mechanics inside. The rain was thundering against the rooftop and metal awning shading the service doors. He closed his eyes, resting them just for a moment letting his six sense take over, as he was lulled by the cascading waterfall off the awning.

Wet footsteps sloshed against the asphalt, a new sound against the normal industrial noises. The shuffling of a paper bag accompanied the hurried steps. Inconspicuously, a floppy ear perked up towards the sound and when it got closer he pried open an eye. She was wrapped up tightly in a hoodie with her arms struggling over a large bag in her hands. She ran through the parking lot like she was running away from rolling lava. She broke thought he waterfall, her hoodie getting drenched, and pulled the hood of her hoodie back breathing a sigh of relief. He watched the pink and rosy burn on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. A smile radiated from her at him momentarily stopping Yoongi's heart.

He closed his eye again, but a huff left you noticing his passive attitude. You pulled out a smaller bag out of the bigger paper bag you were carrying with a sly smile. You approached the grumpy, but docile pinscher. He seemed like a quite one with his stoic exterior, but he could yapp at times like a chihuahua. Yoongi put of this pretense of being an aggressor, a force to be reckoned with, but he melted like putty when it came to pets. He was all bark no bite...at least when it came to you.

Grandpa ran this shop since his twenties proudly being open for almost fifty years. When he first opened the suburban neighborhood was nice, but as the decades rolled on the times weren't as kind. He adopted Yoongi from the shelter after one too many break ins and cranky customers. He walked into the shelter with his hands clasped behind his back browsing the different cubbies with hybrids in them. He pulled a sour face when the workers offered him a bunny or kitten that tried to drag him in personally with their eyes. He insisted to the workers he wanted an aggressive, vicious looking dog hybrid. They sided eyed eachother attempting to catch up with him as he perused the isles. He stopped at the end of the isle eyeing the back of a Doberman, who rested his head on the wall in the corner of cage.

Grandpa tapped the window, but the hybrid remained motionless. He tried again, and the hybrid turned around squinting his eyes angrily at him for disrupting his sleep. The worker behind him politely attempted to redirect him again, but he didn't budge, "this one. I want this one." The angsty hybrids eyes perked up, even standing up to approach the glass between them. The worker tried to bargain again, "yes, he used to be a K-9 for the police, but he doesn't do his job. He's too lazy." The Doberman growled at the worker who curled away from the glass at the noise. With his eyes still razor sharp he turned to Grandpa, "you want to adopt me?" Grandpa didn't lose his confidence; his smile was still intact. "Yes, if you'll come home with me." The workers fiddled with their hands trying to come up with a plan together to divert him, but the bond was set. Yoongi nodded, his expression softening for a moment. Grandpa looked towards the staff, "well, what you are dilly-dallying around for, let's get the adoption going whippersnappers?" He turned back to the hybrid, "what's your name kid?" His floppy ears twitched along with his tail behind him, he's never been asked that before, "...Yoongi...Min Yoongi."

He could've gotten a dog, but he wanted someone that could actually talk back. When the family ran away from his lame jokes, Yoongi was the one who had to sit through them. He did it diligently though, he was patient and took everything. It was his way of paying Grandpa back. He did everything for the old man.

You squatted down next to your family guardian, setting down the larger bag on the dry cement fishing out the smaller bag again. With your free hand you carded your finger over his bangs, brushing stray hair out of his eyes. You then scratched behind one of his floppy, black ears feeling his head lean into your touch. You were always glad that your grandpa decided not to crop his ears in efforts to make him look threating. You argued with your grandpa, the innocent fifteen-year-old when you first met eighteen-year-old Yoongi, "his eyes already are scary, just leave his ears alone." Which wasn't a complete lie, whenever he squinted and pulled that stoic expression it promised nothing but nightmares.