#I like to think that a Genderbent riddle would let her hair down after a bit

[ignihyde-resident]

Genderbent Riddle !?!? No way!!!

I tried to make him look like his mama but it low key just looks like a younger version of her,,,

[onetwothreefarkle]

Puppy Dog Tails

Just some tooth-rotting seblos fluff! Future fic based off this post. I hope you like it, @redmeanslove 

Summary: Seb comes home with a surprise (also read on AO3)

Carlos stood in his kitchen, stirring a mug of hot tea with honey and lemon. Outside, snow was falling, rapidly turning New York City into a winter wonderland, though it was mid-January, so most people were sick of it, especially in the city. Not Carlos, though. Winter was his favorite season (dry skin and chapped lips notwithstanding). The snow reminded him of Salt Lake, and kept him from getting too homesick. Not that he didn’t love his life in New York, but Salt Lake would always be home, no matter how long he spent chasing his Broadway dreams.

He was close to achieving them, too. His choreography had already been nominated for a Tony once, and while this year he was between shows, he had a good feeling about the projects he had in the works, most notably an original show currently in workshops, which meant most of his work was yet to come. In the meantime, he was focused on supporting his boyfriend—soon to be fiancé, if he had anything to say about it—who was currently the star of a genderbent production of Legally Blonde. Carlos couldn’t have been prouder, even if it meant days like these, spent alone in their apartment. Seb had left an hour ago and Carlos had already skimmed through his notes and sent an email to his director about a new routine.

He sipped his tea slowly and sighed. He knew he had things to do, dance routines to practice and more emails to send, and honestly laundry to wash, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of it. Instead he moved from the kitchenette to the living room, and settled on the couch with his favorite blanket--the one Seb’s mom had gifted them when they first moved into this apartment. It was wool (sheep’s wool from the farm, not cashmere, obviously) and it was thick and warm and it reminded Carlos of home because somewhere along the way he started thinking of the Matthew-Smith’s farm and home as a little bit his. Also, it smelled like Seb always did when they were back in Salt Lake and he was spending time on the farm, sort of earthy and sweet.

Carlos was pulled from his thoughts by the high pitched tone of his text alerts. He set his tea down on the coffee table and pulled out his phone.

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Guess who’s coming home early?

Message Sent: What? Why?

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Check your weather app, sweetheart. The storm’s getting worse, our shows are cancelled today so nobody ends up snowed in at the theatre.

Message Sent : OMG

Message Sent: Get home safe!  

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: I will

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Love you!

Message Sent: Love you too!

He set his phone down, and picked up his tea again, though he could barely wipe the smile off his face long enough to take a drink. He knew that Seb would be unhappy about missing a day of work, but he couldn’t help but be excited to spend some extra time with his partner, especially if they had to huddle for warmth. With that thought in mind, he flicked on the TV and began scrolling through their Netflix library, looking for something for them to watch.

45 minutes later, Carlos’s unfinished tea had gone cold on the table, and he had queued up Schitt’s Creek, a show they’d already watched multiple times, and that happened to be one of Seb’s all time favorites. He checked his phone, but there were no new texts from Seb. He frowned. Seb should’ve been home by then.

Message Sent: You almost home?

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Coming up the stairs now!

Carlos grinned (and sighed in relief that his boyfriend wasn’t stuck out in the snow somewhere freezing to death). He picked up his mug and headed back to the kitchenette to dump out the rest of his tea. No sooner did he set the dish on the drying rack than he heard the door open, followed by some shuffling and grunting.

Wait-- Grunting?

Carlos peaked around the corner to see Seb closing the door behind him while holding a large cardboard box with one arm. Well, this was going to be good.

“Whatcha got there?” Carlos asked, in lieu of a proper greeting.

Seb looked up with a wide smile, cheeks and nose pink from the cold, snowflakes starting to melt in his hair. “What would you say if I brought home six puppies?”

Carlos eyed the box. “What’s in the box?”

Seb didn’t say anything, but a whining sound came from the box.

Carlos put a hand on his hip. “What’s in the box, Seb?”

Seb sighed. “I think you know.”

One of the puppies whined again, prompting Seb to set the box down and pull her out. She was brown, with big eyes and floppy ears, some kind of labrador mix, if Carlos had to guess. “Shhh, it’s okay,” Seb was saying, soothingly, petting the top of her tiny head.

“I want to be mad, but you’re so cute,” Carlos shook his head.

Seb grinned. “Come say ‘hi’ to Anne Boleyn.”

“You named them already?” Carlos rolled his eyes. He’d never met anyone who loved animals as much as Seb did. “Of course you did.”

Seb just stepped forward and deposited the puppy into Carlos’s arms. She squirmed adorably. Seb bent down and started taking the rest of the puppies out of the box. They all looked about the same as Anne Boleyn. Brown and floppy and soft, somehow though Seb was able to differentiate between each one.

“This is Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour and--”

“Did you name them after the cast of Six?”  

Seb shrugged. “Well, there’s six of them, it makes sense.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “And are they all girls?”

“Gender is a outdated social construct that dogs aren't restricted by,” Seb chirped happily. “But if you’re asking if they’re all female, the answer is no."

“Fair enough.” Carlos looked down at the puppy in his arms. She looked up at him with big brown eyes. “So, how did this happen?”

“I found them on the street!” Seb’s tone turned grave. “Someone had just left them out to freeze in the snow! I had to save them!”

“Wow,” Carlos’s eyes went wide. “That’s awful.”

“I know we can’t keep them,” Seb continued. “But I figured we could take care of them until the weather improves a bit and then we can take them to the animal shelter.”

Carlos nodded. “Sure.” Anne Boleyn chose that moment to lick Carlos’s glasses, pushing them part way off his face. “But they’re your problem.”

Seb giggled. “C’mon, she loves you!”

“If you say so,” Carlos pouted. “Not exactly the kiss I was hoping for.”

“Oh?” Seb grinned. “What kind of kiss were you hoping for?” He leaned in, stopping short of actually connecting their lips so he could fix Carlos’s glasses. “Maybe something like this?”

They kiss with Anne Boleyn squished slightly between their chests. Even after all these years it still makes Carlos’s heart race and warmth flood his body, all the way down to his toes.

“You do know,” he started, pulling back abruptly, “that you can’t convince me to let you keep one just by kissing me, right?”

“Well,” Seb smirked. “I could do more than kiss you.”

Carlos patted his cheek. “Not with six sets of eyes watching you can’t.”

Seb’s smirk turned into a pout. “Can’t we just keep one? I think Anne Boleyn really likes you.”

“Anne Boleyn is adorable, but do you really think she would be happy living in our studio apartment?” Carlos shook his head.

“Yeah,” Seb sighed. “You’re right.”

“Hey,” Carlos poked his partner’s arm. “Someday, after we’ve won a bunch of Tony awards, and we’re ready to retire from Broadway, we can move out of the city, to a big house somewhere and get all the dogs you want.”

Seb looked up hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” It was an easy promise to make. “I always thought we might end up moving back to Salt Lake eventually.”

“Oh, you’ve thought about our retirement, have you?” Seb grinned. “You don’t think you’ll be sick of me by then?”

Carlos flushed. “Never.” He thought about the engagement ring sitting in his sock drawer, the words Marry Me hanging off the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them. “Impossible.”

“I’ll never get sick of you, either,” Seb pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And I love that you’ve been imagining us retiring to the farm someday.”

“I never said--”

“It was implied,” Seb’s grin didn’t falter. “I’ve gotten pretty good at deciphering your riddles after all these years.”

Carlos couldn’t argue with that, because Seb was obviously right, and a part of Carlos wanted to be annoyed that Seb saw through him so easily, but most of him just felt warm all over. “I love you a lot, Seb Matthew-Smith.”

“I know.” Seb’s voice was soft and overflowing with fondness. “I love you a lot, too.”