Mistakes Were Made

Chapter 33: Humphrey

                      The rain sprinkles down on the roof of the house, causing a soothing lullaby. Dakota lays on the side of Hank's bare chest, her hand holding onto the other side of his shoulder. She lightly snores as he stares up at the ceiling. Preacher's words echo through his mind. And what God sees isn't what was intended to be. Hank kisses the top of Dakota's head, rubbing her back lightly. Preacher doesn't understand, Hank thinks. He doesn't understand how much I've changed.
                             "I love you, Dakota." Hank whispers to the sleeping girl, lightly kissing her forehead.
                            Hank loves how she fits perfectly in his arms. It's was like Dakota was made for him to hold. She looks so peaceful and happy as she sleeps, he wishes she could stay this happy forever. Nothing to pollute her mind or heart. Or make her feel sad or abandoned again. He'll never let her feel that way again. Dakota means too much to Hank to lose her. He can't lose her. Never.
                          Suddenly, a grunting sound happens. Hank leans slightly upwards, trying to be careful not to wake Dakota. He looks into the living room to see the dog humping the side of the couch. Hank groans, hating how the dog has already marking its territory on a new piece of furniture.
                            Hank shakes his head in disgust. "Damn mutt."
                         A flash of lightening flashes across the sky, loud thunder shaking the house. Dakota jumps, her eyes flying open. She looks up at Hank, who smiles down at her. The dog lets out a high pitched whine as it rushes through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Dakota follows after. Hank groans, hating how he had just managed to get Dakota settled for bed. She was so peaceful in his arms.
                           Hank gets up and walks around the bed and to the doorway of the bathroom, flipping on the light. Dakota sits in the bathtub with her arms wrapped round the whining dog. Hank leans against the wall.
                           "Poor baby is shaking." Dakota leans against the shaking dog.
                          "Poor baby?" Hank says annoyed, "That mutt just fucked my new couch."
                           "He has needs, Hank!" Dakota defends the dog, "I know you get a little hornet now and then..."
                            Hank shakes his head, holding his hands up.
                            "It's a dog." Hank corrects himself, "It's your dog."
                            "Well, he's needy." Dakota kisses the dogs snout.
                            Hank glares at the whining dog, thunder rumbles in the distance. The dog lets out a high pitches whine and rushes out of the bathroom and through the bedroom and into the living room. The 17-year-old walks past the older guy to the living room where she sits down and watches her new dog run around. Hank walks into the living room, seeing a stain on the side of the couch. Frustration fills him.
                              "Dammit!" Hank looks to Dakota, "That mutt ruined a perfectly good couch! We gotta take him back."
                               Dakota's eyes widen, she jumps up and rushes past Hank before he can get to the dog. The dog rushes into the laundry room and hits the dryer hard, making the basket fall on top of his head. He whines as he's blinded by Hank's underwear over his face. Hank goes to grab his collar but Dakota grabs the dogs neck and holds in tightly.
                                "Dakota, let go." Hank demands.
                                "No, he's my baby!" She shouts back, a flash of lightening flashing across the sky.
                                 "He's a dog, Dakota! He's not a human!" He fires back, not letting go of the dog's collar. "He hasn't been here long enough for you give him a name! He's already making messes and disturbing my peace."
                                 "So did I and you still let me stay!" The room goes silent.
                                 Thunder rumbles in the distance, making the dog whine in Dakota's arms. She shushes him as she holds onto him tightly, a tear falling down her face. Hank lets go of the dogs collar, taking a step back. He stands there and stares at her for the longest time.
                                "Shit!" he exclaims to himself.
                                Dakota stares up at him, her sad brown eyes breaking his heart. He can't stand to see her sad. Hank shakes his head and walks back into the living room.

                                  After an hour of thunder and lightening, it all dies down. The dog gets up and walks into the other room, going back to it's calm state. Dakota stands up and walks out of the pantry/laundry room. There has been no other sound in the house besides the dog whining during the storm, Dakota figures Hank must have went to bed. But she steps into the living room, Hank sits on the couch with the dog laying down at his feet. His usual annoyed expression is plastered on his face. When he sees her, he doesn't look her in the eyes. Dakota leans against the doorframe, wishing Hank would say something. After standing there trying to come up with something to say, she gives up and goes to bed. She continues to think of something to say but her mind is blank.
                               A few minutes later, Hank walks back into the bedroom and strips fro his sweatpants. He climbs into bed and lays on his back.
                                "Are you mad at what I said?" Dakota breaks the silence.
                               Hank doesn't respond for a long time. So long that Dakota thinks he may have fallen asleep. She closes her eyes, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.
                               "Yes." he says finally, his voice calm.
                               Dakota's voice becomes small, she can barely get it out. She's afraid to hear her own voice now.
                               "Are you still thinking baking taking the dog back?"
                              "Yes."
                              "Do you still love me?"
                              Hank leans over her, his hand touching her forearm. He kisses her shoulder.
                               "Yes."
                              Dakota looks up at him mischievously. "You wanna fuck your frustration out on me?"
                              Hank smiles down at her, his blue eyes sparkling.
                              "Yes."

                             Dakota lays naked on Hank's chest. He rubs her back and kisses her forehead every once in a while.
                              "I love you." Dakota says tiredly.
                             "I love you too, baby." He holds her closer to him.
                            Suddenly, the dog begins grunting as he humps the couch. Dakota and Hank both sit up to see the dog at work. Dakota chuckles, falling back on the bed. Hank grabs a throw pillows and throws it at him, which only slows him down just a little bit.
                             "Two times on the first night." Hank chuckles, "Mutt's just as bad as a sinner in a whore house."
                              "I don't like that name for him." Dakota takes Hank's hand and feels the roughness of his skin. "I like Diggs cause he likes to dig."
                                Looks back at the dog, annoyed about his new couch becoming a target for the dogs living nature.
                                 "We could call him Humphrey." Hank says with a smirk, "The mutt likes to fuck. Might as well make use of the pun."
                                 Dakota looks up at Hank with a smile. "Humphrey? Isn't that a little dirty?"
                                  "Well, the house got dirtier once that fleabag walked in." Hank sighs, "Besides, it gives you something to do tomorrow."
                                   Dakota rolls her eyes, playing with his fingers. "Fine, but we gotta get him something for his—issues."