Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dracula was on edge.

He paced the floor of the abandoned hospital, while frequently trying not to check the time on the large grandfather clock. It had been over 2 hours and he still wasn’t back yet.

He shouldn’t have let him go, he shouldn’t have let him out of his sight. It was too soon after ‘The Incident’ he thought, he still should have kept him chained to his throne but he was hungry. He was always hungry.

Dracula growled in frustration, transformed into a bat and flew up to one of the higher floors of the hospital through the hole in the ceiling and continued to pace.

‘The Incident’ as Dracula thought of it,had concluded somewhat recently. His servant had thought it was a wise idea to meet with those who would poison Renfield’s mind against him, holdng clandestine meetings in a church. He could imagine what lies Renfield had spread.

“Master is mean and unfair, and I am as sweet and innocent as the day is long. Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, that’s how pure and wonderful I am. Help me get away from that dastardly rogue.”

In this scenario Dracula imagined Renfield clutching a string of pearls to further demonstrate how shocked he was and was speaking with a higher pitch voice in that way men did when trying to badly imitate women. Never mind the fact that Renfield had never worn jewelry, as far as he could recall.

As he fantasized about his familiar in this unflattering way it did make him feel slightly better, it made him feel superior to think of Renfield so weak.

After he found out about his servant’s stupid ideas of ‘happiness’ he nipped that behaviour in the bud and immediately slaughtered the little church group, though Renfield was adamant that they weren’t a church group, and dragged his errant familiar back to the lair where he attempted to beat the disobedience out of him. However, his overzealousness killed the man, a few times.

The wanton act of violence had caused him to work up an appetite, thankfully the little worm that had led a group of armed assailants to his lair was still there cowering in a corner. The tattooed man, Teddy, Eddy or something like that, watched in revulsion as Dracula dealt with Renfield’s disloyalty which had ended with his servant being eviscerated. When Teddy saw the vampire stalk towards him, he turned to run, but he found out like all others, you can’t outrun a god.

For all the man’s claims that he came from an organization that was all about ‘evil’, his blood was surprisingly sweet. It was the kind of sweetness that only came from those who didn’t have blood on their hands, those who had never taken a life. He drank deep and long until Lobo stopped struggling and went limp. If it weren’t for the fact that he still had a familiar to punish he would have collapsed sated onto his throne and napped the rest of the night, if only.

With a renewed spring in his step he cut his hand and used his blood to revive Renfield, only to throw him into the long narrow crate that had been used to transport Dracula’s coffin on their last transatlantic ocean voyage.

Oh how Renfield begged and sobbed.

Each time Dracula would allow Renfield out to relieve himself, and consume enough water and food to stave off death, he would renew his begging.

“I’m sorry I had forsaken you Master, my life for you Master, please don’t punish me more Master, please don’t put me back in the box Master.”

Dracula would hear none of it, and kept him there for two weeks before he let him out for good, the boy had come out meek as a lamb, just how he liked him.

Two weeks after the isolation he sent Renfield to his apartment to collect any important belongings and then charged him with burning the apartment to the ground, to reduce it to ash.

That was 2 hours ago, and he still wasn’t back yet.

As he continued his pacing he noticed a small bundle of pages sticking out of an end table. He pulled the sheets that were curling due to dampness and age and read over the contents.

How to Train your Puppy with Positive Reinforcement.

The pages appeared to have been printed from the internet. He skimmed through them, mainly to focus on something other than Renfield’s tardiness.

‘Positive reinforcement while training your pet allows for clear communication of intent and rewards good behaviour.

Using punishments like yelling or hitting your pet can lead to confusion because the punishment isn’t clear for them.’

Dracula snorted, a good firm hand had always worked on all of his servants in the past.

‘For example, if your pet makes a mess on the carpet and you rub their nose in it, your pet is less likely to understand not to potty in the house and more likely to take away the message that it isn’t safe to potty around you. This can explain why your pet has accidents while you are away but never around you.

However, if instead you reward your pet with praise and treats when they perform behaviours you approve of, they are more likely to repeat those behaviours.’

Dracula continued to skim the article as it talked about how training with punishment created fearful and aggressive pets whereas positive reinforcement led to strong bonds between pets and their owners.

He considered the reading, he had used punishments to train familiars for centuries. Renfield was certainly fearful, and as much as he loved how powerful he felt when Renfield cowered before him, it also limited his innovation and quick thinking when he was always fearful of repercussions.

Perhaps a new method was warranted.

“Master?” Renfield called out timidly.

Dracula transformed into a cloud of bats and dove down to the main level of the lair and quickly transformed back into a ‘man’. This startled Renfield who started to curl in on himself and cower.

“I’m sorry I’m so late.”

The article said to ignore behaviour you don’t like, and praise the good behaviour.

“Did you burn the apartment?”

His eyes were moist and his lip trembled as he nodded his head.

“Good.” He put his hand on Renfield’s shoulder and gave it a firm, but not painful, squeeze. “Good boy.”

Dracula then opened a desk drawer and pulled out a chocolate that Dracula had confiscated when he became annoyed with Renfield’s loud chewing.

“I like when you’re obedient.” He handed over the chocolate. Renfield took it, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When nothing bad happened he opened up the treat and popped it into his mouth.

Over the next few weeks Dracula would provide plenty of praise to his familiar. From telling him he did a good job when he finally cleaned up the bodies that had been stacking up. To guiding Renfield to lay in his lap so he could pet his hair after he provided Dracula with a particularly good victim to eat.

Renfield appeared to be much happier, which surprisingly made Dracula happier as he spent less time disciplining his servant.

“Good night Renfield, once you’re done sweeping, head to bed.”

“Of course Master.” He helped Dracula step into his coffin and lay down.

“That’s a good boy.” Dracula praised, and Renfield’s face turned a little pink and he gave a shy smile. When the Master was settled Renfield closed the lid.

He picked up the broom and noticed the curling papers sticking out of Dracula’s side table. He picked them up and tried to curl them the opposite way to get them to lay flat. He smiled as he read the title on the page.

Renfield had hidden a dozen copies of these pages all over the lair and it had still taken Dracula a week to find them.

Who ever said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Chapter Text

Those first few weeks were wonderful. Nothing but praise and sweet words. It almost reminded him of those glorious good times they had when they first met, back when Renfield thought they were equals.

He had to stifle a laugh, that he thought even for a moment, that he and the Master were on equal footing. That would be like saying a rabbit was equal to a lion. Sure it had its uses but in the end there was only one king of the jungle.

Then things began to shift between them once more.

Rendield had been away for most of the afternoon and returned early that evening with the drycleaning. He had hung up Dracula’s suits and draped his cape across the tailor’s dummy when Dracula came to stand by him. He watched intensely as Renfield completed his tasks, oblivious to his Master scrutiny.

“Hello Master, it came back perfectly clean.” Renfield looked up to address Dracula briefly with a smile before turning back to the dummy to smooth out any remaining wrinkles.

He didn’t get the praise he had come to expect, that was odd.

Renfield looked up from his task and saw Dracula was still staring at him, narrowing his eyes as if trying to figure something out. He swallowed nervously and looked away quickly as an unhappy grimace settled on Dracula’s face.

Renfield had known it was only going to be a matter of time before Dracula got bored and gave up on the positive reinforcement and went back to his preferred method of rule. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst, even though he still didn’t know what caused his Master’s displeasure. Not that that had really mattered, there were plenty of times in the past that he found himself punished by his Master, but having no idea why.

Dracula grabbed Renfield’s chin, and moved his face so he could look him directly in the eyes, before pushing him away.

“You look tired servant, get some rest.”

Dracula turned and left in a whirlwind of bats out of an open window on one of the higher floors, leaving Renfield to wonder what had just happened.

As confused as he was, Renfield knew that when Dracula got in a mood it was best to follow all “suggestions” as if they were orders written in stone, and to do them quickly if he knew what was good for him.

Promptly he turned and went to the cot he had previously pushed into a corner so that it was away from the area of the lair that Dracula preferred to inhabit. Then quickly changed into his favourite pair of striped pajamas and snuggled under the quilt he purchased from a charity shop a few years ago. He tried to listen for his Master’s return but eventually drifted off to sleep as ordered.

***

Dracula on the other hand was annoyed that he had been played by his servant. While Renfield was out dealing with the drycleaning, he had been searching for his backgammon game. Dracula had thought it might be a pleasant way to end the evening, when he came across a very familiar set of pages. At first he thought he had put his own pages on pet obedience in the wrong spot, but after checking he found his copies still safely tucked away in the desk. Curious, why was there an identical set there?

He did a little searching and found two more sets of the same article. Clearly they had been planted. He was so angry, so livid, that his servant would play him for a fool. Did that little worm think he could manipulate the great and terrible Dracula? What was worse was the realization that yes Renfield had successfully manipulated him.

Worse even still Dracula too had enjoyed the change in their relationship. He liked the worshipful gaze of adoration, and how easy things had become. It reminded him of the good ol’ days, as they say.

That didn’t matter though, the only thing that mattered was that his pathetic little familiar thought he could pull one over on Dracula.

He flew around, looking for something quick he could eat before returning to take his anger out on Renfield, when he saw the pet store.

Then he got an idea, oh what an awful idea he had, he would give Renfield exactly what he wanted.

***

Renfield woke up feeling rested. It was something that had been happening more and more since Dracula started to buy into his positive reinforcement methods. Though with Dracula’s mood last night he wondered if that might be the last time he slept so well.

“Renfield, come here boy.”

He slid out of bed still wearing his pajamas, his hair in more disarray than usual, and shuffled his way to Dracula’s throne in the middle of the room. He wondered if it wasn’t time to remove the empty blood bags, but he found he liked how they reflected the light of the candles.

“Yes Master?”

Dracula crooked his finger beckoning the man closer, until their legs almost touched, then he pointed to the floor.

“Down.”

Renfield continued to look at Dracula confused for a moment, before obediently kneeling down and sitting on his feet. He looked up at his Master confusion still in his eyes, wondering what was going on.

His Master on the other hand leaned forward and carded his hand through Renfield’s sleep-induced messy hair. Briefly he closed his eyes and gave into the pleasant feeling of Dracula’s nails lightly grazing his scalp.

“That’s my good boy. You are a good boy aren’t you Renfield?”

A blush bloomed from his neck upwards, and he got that shy smile he always got when he was embarrassed.

“Come on boy, speak. Are you a good boy?”

“I try to be.” His voice was laced with confusion.

Dracula slid his hand from Renfield’s hair to cup the side of his face and he gently used his nails to rub and scratch just under his ear. It was a place that always made his toes curl when it was touched and he found himself leaning in more to Dracula, to break the contact or silently beg for more, even Renfield wasn’t sure. When his breathing quickened Dracula pulled his hand away.

“I have a present for my good boy. Do you want to see it?”

Renfield nodded, and Dracula pulled out a dog collar. Renfield wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked at it. It was a standard plain black canvas collar with a ring to attach a leash and a little silver name tag in the shape of a bone. There was also what appeared to be a dog licence tag behind the name tag that he now saw, said Renfield.

“What?”

“I had you Registered.” He gestured for Renfield to come closer as he opened the collar and held it out to put it on the other man.

Renfield didn’t move. “Surely you’re kidding.”

“Do I ever?”

Still Renfield stayed where he was. “But, but, but … no.”

“No?” Dracula leaned back on his chair and put his finger to his mouth as if thinking something over. “The man at the shop did say that sometimes having your hound neutered calmed them down and made them easier to train.”

Not risking that threat Renfield leaned forward and lifted his chin to give better access to his throat. His Master sat forward and clipped the collar on. When he was done he flicked the little name tag.

“That’s a good boy. Look how handsome you look.”

He chuckled as Renfield hunched his shoulders and hid his face, but Dracula could see from the redness of his ears that his familiar was deeply embarrassed.

That will teach him to think he can play his Master and win.

***

Renfield was able to escape his Master’s attention, but he was forbidden to remove the collar. The threat of castration hung heavy in the air, even if he was almost sure that it was an empty threat.

He dressed for the day and toiled around the lair, tidying and mending mostly, but as he worked he found himself looking towards Dracula more than usual as he tried to figure out what was up with the vampire.

Occasionally he would reach up to touch the collar, if Dracula caught him it was always;

“Ah ah ah what are you doing, bad! Leave that alone.”

Then he would drop his hands with a sigh,

When he was finally done with his tasks for the evening he went to the chaise lounge to read for bit when Dracula appeared out of nowhere with a frown on his face.

“No! Off the furniture.”

“Wh..where am I supposed to sit, Master?” A little anger crept into his voice and Dracula though he schooled his features to show indifference was practically cackling on the inside.

The vampire instead took the seat instead and pulled on Renfield’s arm till he fell to his knees. Then he patted his head to show that he thought him a good boy, while he drank in the unhappy confusion on his familiar’s face.

“You’ll sit at my feet, where you belong.”

***

Several days later Renfield is still wearing the collar. It was humiliating, but every time he reaches to remove it Dracula either is there calling him ‘bad’ or tsking him through their mental connection, ‘tsk tsk I hope you’re not being a bad boy.’ He doesn’t get physical, but he does move into his personal space which forces Renfield to back away which then distracts him momentarily from the collar.

He vaguely remembers seeing something in the articles that he left all throughout the lair that one way to stop a dog from doing something you don’t like is to move into their space, this helps assert dominance. This struck him as funny, because Dracula didn’t need to assert dominance he WAS dominance, it oozed out of his pores with every action whereas Renfield was always meek and differential.

It took him longer then he liked to admit but eventually he realized that Dracula had found the extra copies of the positive reinforcement article and all of this was a subtle punishment. He didn’t dare bring it up, it would only make it so much worse. If only he had removed all the extra copies once it was clear his Master had taken the bait. He just had to bide his time and wait it out, like he had to bide his time in the shipping crate after the slaughter of his friends. He shuddered at the memory. Renfield hated small spaces. He didn’t always but after his time I’m the asylum being confined made him antsy and anxious. He would agree to almost anything if it meant freedom from confinement.

He pushed the memory deep down, and focus on his task. Dracula sent him out to buy food for himself. He was eternally grateful that Dracula didn’t insist he get a bag of kibble because that was honestly what he was expecting would happen. Instead it was “be a good boy and get yourself some groceries. You don’t eat enough and I don’t want you collapsing.” Never mind the fact that with Dracula back to full power he didn’t need to hunt for him any longer and was spending the majority of his time in the lair.

Before leaving for her errands he tried to cover the dog collar with his shirt, even going so far as wearing a tie for the first time in almost 20 years.

When he gets back and puts the food away all he wants to do is throw himself on his bed, it’s the only furniture in the lair Dracula lets him sit on.

Where is it, where had his bed gone?

It wasn’t pushed against the wall as normal. Did Dracula move it?

He looked everywhere in the main room, in every corner and nook. Not in the body overflow area, not behind the changing screen, not piled high with junk, not even in the hallways. Renfield was just about to look on the next level when he saw it. Lying there beside his Master's beautiful black coffin, an XL dog bed.

He just stood there staring at it. He didn’t know how long he stared at the accursed item, but he got the feeling that his Master said his name more then once.

Numbly he looked at Dracula incredulously.

“What?” He hadn’t heard what his Master had said, normally the creature would hit or throw him if he wasn’t paying attention, but this time he just smiled at him sadistically and drank in Renfield’s experience.

“I said, go lie down, like a good boy.” He gestured to the dog bed.

Renfield took a step back and shook his head

“Absolutely not.” He whispered, backing away.

Dracula’s smile widened, showing off even more of his terrifying teeth.

“That’s going too far. I want my bed back.” Renfield tried to sound firm.

Dracula gave an exaggerated sigh, and put his hand firmly on Renfield’s shoulder keeping him in place as he dug his claws slightly in warning.

“I didn’t want to do this, but I guess we have to start crate training.

Renfield’s eyes went wide at the implication.

With no time to think, Dracula steered him towards the coffin’s packing crate still sitting by his throne. He tried to dig his heal’s in, grabbed into Dracula’s wrist and tried to break free, but one couldn’t wrestle with a god and expect to win. Dracula slipped his hand into Renfield’s pocket and removed his little big box, leaving the man helpless.

“No, no please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll go to the dog bed. Please not again… I can’t, I can’t.”

It was no use though, Dracula wasn’t swayed as he stuffed Renfield in, then with hammer and nails he shut him in.

Renfield banged on the walls, screaming to be let out, but the only thing that was accomplished was hurting his hands and wrists. He screamed and shouted until his voice was hoarse.

Dracula just sat in his throne and smiled as if listening to the most beautiful of symphonies.

Eventually he quieted down, and only the occasional sniffle could be heard. The crate was much larger than any standard dog crate. It was long enough that Renfield could stretch out fully and high enough that he could get on his hands and knees.

Unlike the last time, he had no real intention of keeping him confined for a long period, just long enough to make Renfield more compliant.

After a few hours Dracula could hear noises coming from the crate again.

“I’m sorry Master. I’m sorry I was bad, please let me out. **sob** please.”

If Dracula had a heart that could be broken, that sad pitiful begging would have done it. That being said, he figured Renfield was in a more obedient headspace, and he grabbed the edge of the crate end and ripped it down.

Renfield looked up, from his arms that were wrapped around his head, tears still running down his face.

“Are you going to be a good boy?” Dracula asked with mocking sternness.

Renfield nodded, despair etched across his face. “Yes, Master.”

“Then you know where to go.”

He crawled out of the crate on his hands and knees right into the large dog bed. He couldn’t stretch out on it, but he could fit his whole body if he curled up.

Dracula watched in delight as Renfield tried to get comfortable, while also keeping his back to Dracula. However he could see the slight tremors in his shoulder to indicate the man was struggling to compose himself.

The vampire took a seat on the ancient leather couch and taking pity on his familiar, he called him over and patted the seat beside him.

“Just this once, come up here.”

Renfield wasted no time. Dracula smirked at the perfect picture of misery that his familiar presented, from his downcast eyes to his hunched shoulders. Dracula gave a little chuckle and guided Renfied down until he was laying down with his head on his Master’s leg.

Renfield sighed heavily, everything was going so well not too long ago. He tried to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling of Dracula petting his hair and neck but he was just so miserable.

“Are you crying servant? Surely it can’t be that bad.”

He mumbled something under his breath so quiet that even Dracula couldn’t hear him.

“Come again, a little louder please.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Dracula leaned down so he was close to Renfield’s ear.

“Oh Pet, I’m just giving you exactly what you wanted.”

Chapter Text

Renfield was exhausted. He was avoiding his new bed, and when he did sleep it was sporadic and broken.

The dog bed his Master provided him wasn’t big enough, Renfield was so long of limb and torso that curling up on the fluffy pillow hurt his back if he lay there for an extended time. He had considered waiting for Dracula to sleep for the day, and then crash on one of the couches or chairs, but then his eyes would slide over to the shipping crate. A cold feeling would wash over him and he knew he wasn’t going to risk it.

The only time he would get any rest was when Dracula would beckon him over to lay down on the couch next to him, with his head in his Master's lap, so he could pet his hair like Renfield was some kind of lap dog. When that would happen he would last maybe a minute until he was snoring and drooling on his Master’s knee.

Strangely, Dracula would let him. He would wake up and sometimes Dracula would still be petting him, or sometimes resting his arm on Renfield while he read a book. There were times Renfield would wake up like this, and just stay quiet and still just to see how long Master would allow him to lay around. Eventually he would get a gentle pat on the shoulder and told to get up, and the two would pretend it never happened.

Needless to say Renfield had been extra mopey. He no longer had an outlet with his DRAAG group, he no longer had his own space since Dracula forced him to burn down his apartment. He dare not contact Officer Quincey, for fear that Dracula would rip her apart just to see Renfield break even further. He couldn’t leave the lair because Dracula told him he wasn’t allowed now that he no longer needed to hunt for his Master.

Dracula watched as his sad little familiar ran a dusting cloth over the antique furniture, it was a pointless job as he had dusted the night before, and the night before that. He had to admit the lair had never been cleaner. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, except the crate, his familiar refused to go near it or even look in its direction. Dracula smiled sadistically at the thought.

“I think it’s time we went for a walk, don’t you think Renfield?”

The younger man perked his head up, his eyes eager and shining at the suggestion. He couldn’t remember the last time he was outside, days, weeks? It felt like forever. The last time was when his apartment was burned down.

“If, if that’s what you would like, Master.” He tried to say neutrally, as if his Master might change his mind if he appeared too eager.

“It is. Come here.”

Renfield put down his dusting cloth and approached his Master slowly. Not knowing his Master's intentions always made him nervous. Dracula liked to play games, but Renfield never found them any fun.

Dracula’s smile only got wider, which was never a good sign from Renfield’s experience.

The vampire reached behind himself and pulled out a medium length black leather leash. He held it up and crocked his finger at his familiar to indicate that he should lean in and kneel.

Renfield immediately started to curl his shoulders in, and gave a quiet little sob. “Master, please … no.”

Dracula gave an exaggerated sigh. “If you would rather go back into the crate instead of a walk.. I guess we could do that.”

His familiar’s lip quivered, and his frown intensified, but he got on his knees and leaned forward anyways. Dracula wasted no time clipping the leash onto the collar and then stood up. Renfield remained on his knees, with his head bowed, the perfect image of misery. He reached down and pet his familiar’s hair.

“There is my good boy. Come on, get up. It’s time for walkies.”

Taking a deep shuddery breath he pushed himself up onto his feet. Standing as close to Dracula as he could, he wasn’t going to walk too quickly and risk being choked and he wasn’t going to fall behind to allow Dracula to yank on the leash.

They left the old Charity Hospital and walked the quiet streets toward the park. Renfield was lucky that it was well past midnight and they had yet to run into another person. He prayed to whatever gods existed that might still care about him to spare him the humiliation of having anyone see him being led around on the leash.

The park was empty, and illuminated by street lights.

“I think we can go off leash for a little while, but if you’re a bad puppy it’s back in the crate for you.”

Renfield raised his head obediently while Dracula unclipped him, but then just stood beside his Master not knowing what else to do.

Dracula ruffled his hair and praised him for staying, and then pulled out a standard yellow tennis ball. He held it up to Renfield’s face, gave it a wave back and for and then lightly threw the ball. It landed only a few feet away.

“Fetch.”

He sighed, and then slowly walked over to the ball and picked it up from the wet grass and walked it back. He held the object out for his Master to take.

“Tut tut I know you can do better than that.” This time he threw it to the other side of the field.

“Run.” Dracula commanded.

There was no use arguing if he wanted to avoid being shoved back into the shipping crate, so he ran over to where he found the ball. Sitting on top of it was a small moth. He snagged the bug and quickly ate it.

“Master!” He yelled, when the vampire turned to him he wound up and threw the ball back with amazing speed. The vampire caught it, as if it were nothing. Then threw it at Renfield with such force and velocity that when it collided with Renfield’s stomach it knocked the air out of him and knocked him on his ass.

He struggled to pull air back into his lungs as his Master made his way over to his. He looked down at him with a look that said he wasn’t amused.

“The point of fetch is I throw and you go and bring it back. Do I need to enroll you in obedience school too?”

He would too, Renfield knew it wasn’t an empty threat.

Finally able to pull in a ragged breath, but still struggling to breath didn’t stop him from shaking his head no.

“Then, let’s try this again, shall we?”

He waited for Renfield to get back on his feet and threw the ball again. “Fetch.”

Renfield ran.

The ball had hit a tree, when he went to grab it he saw a couple sitting on a bench. They all made eye contact and the other man’s eyes immediately trailed down to the collar around Renfield’s neck and gave a knowing smirk.

Heat rushed up his face, and it burned in mortification. Renfield wanted to leave immediately so picked up the ball. To his great shame Dracula yelled out to use his mouth.

The man on the benche’s smirk intensified as did Renfield’s humiliation. Slowly he brought the ball to his mouth and he struggled as he tried to allow his teeth to catch the fabric in such a way that it would stay wedged in his mouth.

The man laughed, and Renfield began to shake at the utter humiliation of it. He ran back to Dracula and dropped the ball into his waiting hand.

Then rubbed his sore jaw, and bowed his head trying to hide behind his hair, so Dracula wouldn’t see his red rimmed eyes as he struggled to keep the tears at bay. Dracula saw all though, he always did.

He wrapped his arm around Renfield’s shoulders and pulled the man down and to him and kissed the top of his head in affection.

“That’s my good boy. You’re my good boy aren’t you Renfield?”

He turned his face into his Master's chest, hoping the earth would swallow him up, wondering if the man and his girl were still watching his humiliation.

“Yes Master.” He replied with abject misery, which only made Dracula squeeze him firmer against his chest, laugh and kiss his head again.

“Lighten up Renfield. This is supposed to be fun. Aren’t you having fun?”

“Yes Master … can we go home now?”

Dracula sighed and let him go.

“Fine, kneel over here so I can reclip the leash.”

Renfield took a step back.

His Master narrowed his eyes then pointed to the sign that said dogs must be leashed at all times.

“You wouldn’t want me to break the law would you?” Renfield didn’t move. “I can promise you far worse if you don’t get your ass over here now.”

He closed his eyes and came over, and dropped to his knees. His bottom lip wobbled as Dracula reattached the lead.

The walk home was quiet, and when they got back to the lair Renfield barely let Dracula unclip him before he went to his hated bed and rolled over to show the room his back. He wondered for the billionth time why he ever thought he could manipulate Dracula, as if it had ever worked out in the past.

Dracula sat in his favourite armchair watching his pouting familiar and replayed the boy's misery from tonight over and over. The smile on his face got wider and wider. What fun might he have tomorrow? For now he would let his pet rest, he earned it.

Chapter Text

Renfield was walking around one of those late night mega stores that sold everything. He would complain about how big chains like this put the smaller independent places out of business, but with his Master’s hours if it weren’t for stores like that he wouldn’t be able to buy food for himself half the time.

As the cupboards were bare he was given permission to leave the lair on his own, and he never thought grocery shopping was a special treat, but such was his life now.

He had a basket with him, but hadn’t picked anything up yet. He wanted to do a full sweep of the store, see what they had, plus it was a way to be away from the lair, and his Master, just a little longer.

Dracula had really latched into treating Renfield as a dog, he honestly would have thought he would have gotten bored of it by now … but no such luck.

Groceries were the main objective, but if Dracula insisted on him sitting on the floor he was going to look for a few pillows or seat cushions he could strategically leave around.

He was not going down the pet aisle. He had had quite enough of that lately, thank you very much.

“Sqeeeeek. Squeek, squeek, sqeeeeeeeeeeeek!”

A loud obnoxious sound came from the very aisle he wanted to avoid.

“Oh that’s going to get old real fast.” A male voice grumbled.

“I think it’s cute. You should get it.” A woman’s voice replied.

“Don’t you have enough toys?”

“I don’t have one like this. You told me if I was a good girl I could get something. This is what I want.” She said with excitement.

Completely without realizing it, Renfield followed the conversation and found himself standing near the couple. The toy in question was a stuffed Canadian Goose that was squeaking as the woman squeezed it.

The couple realizing they weren’t alone, stopped and gave the intruder the once over. The man looked like just a regular guy. Kind of good looking, tall, jeans and a T-shirt. The woman wore a breezy summer dress, and a headband with floppy brown velvet ears and a pink collar with a leash attached that the man was holding. The man’s eyes tractor beamed to the stupid collar Dracula insisted he wear and an odd sort of affectionate expression crossed the man’s face.

Upon seeing the couple his first thought was, ‘Oh my god, it’s not just Dracula and me.’

“Hey there little guy, where is your owner?” The man asked in a very soft gentle tone, as if trying to coax a skittish animal.

Renfield looked around to see who he was talking to. Seeing no one he pointed to himself.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Are you here all by yourself? Does your owner know you’re here?”

Renfield wrinkled his nose, how did he know about his Master?

“Ye.. yes. He told me to run my errands.”

Suddenly the man had a look of disappointment cross his face, but for the life of him Renfield couldn’t figure out why.

“Sorry to intrude, I was just trying to figure out what the noise was.”

The girl with the puppy ears smiled brightly and held up the little toy.

“It's awesome isn’t it? Boyd was just going to get it for me.”

The man, Boyd, sighed. “I never said that. Would your owner let you have such an awful thing?” He turned the question to Renfield.

“Uh …”

He could picture it now, that loud squeaking filling the quiet of the lair. He wasn’t sure who would be torn in two first, the toy or him.

“Noo… I don’t think so.”

“See Brinn, a sensible man. Choose something a little quieter please.”

Renfield began to turn when the man stopped him again.

“You seem … new. If you and your owner are interested, our kennel club is hosting a party just outside of town.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. “Feel free to come out. Always looking for new friends. Especially if your owner is looking to socialize you.”

Taking the card, Renfield flipped it over a few times awkwardly before nodding his head in thanks and then walking very quickly away and pocketing the card.

He practically ran to the grocery section, his plans of lingering at the store now abandoned. Master must never know, the last thing Renfield wanted was his humiliation on parade.

…. But the girl looked happy. The small voice he usually tried to ignore whispered. Playing games with your lover was one thing, he argued to himself, your Master staving off the ennui of immortality by relishing in your humiliation was another thing altogether.

Still, perhaps it wasn’t all bad, he would be lying if he said he hasn’t enjoyed Dracula’s petting of him.

A loud squeak rang through the air again. Renfield looked over to the self checkout, the girl was squeezing the goose toy and giggled with joy as her companion Boyd looked at her with fondness.

When was the last time the Master bought him a gift, just for the pleasure it would bring him?

***

Renfield didn’t linger after that, he bought his essentials, even forgoing the throw pillows and blankets he had intended to purchase.

Meeting Brinn and Boyd had left him confused.

Shouldn’t Brinn be humiliated wearing a collar and puppy ears out in public, like Renfield was mortified when the man and his girl saw him at the park.

***

There was a new humiliation when he got home. Anytime he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Dracula upped his game. Sitting on the floor neatly in front of the accursed crate were two large bowls, one was filled with water and the other was currently empty.

“While you were out shopping Renfield, I took the liberty to get you some new dishes. Do you like them?”

No, he most assuredly did NOT like them. Hadn’t he been humiliated enough? Wasn’t his back already killing him because of that damn dog bed?

“Yes Master.”

“Don’t be so sullen Renfield, I have been doing you a disservice by letting you eat at the table. It’s unsanitary having a dog up on the table like that. Take the bowl, and go make yourself dinner.”

With a huge exaggerated sigh he picked up the bowl and brought it to the little kitchenette he had set up near the back. Calling it a kitchenette was honestly far too generous. Currently it was a card table setup beside a surgery hand washing station, on the small table was a cutting board, a few sharp knives and a hot plate.

20 minutes later Renfield put his bowl, filled to the top with Kraft Mac and Cheese, down on the floor.

“Well don’t wait for me Renfield, have your dinner.”

Sighing was his go to response lately.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I guess it will just stay there on the floor till you ARE hungry. You like bugs, Renfield, I’m sure it will attract lots the longer you wait. Since you don’t want to eat, maybe you just go into the crate, hmm?”

Of course Dracula knew that would spur him to get on his knees before the rapidly cooling sudo-cheese meal.

With angry and embarrassed tears he bent down with his arms flat on the ground bracketing his food dish, with his ass straight up in the air.

Just when Renfield was sure that Dracula could do nothing worse, he outdid himself.

As he snarfed his meal, tears ran down the bridge of his nose and splashed into his bowl.

Chapter Text

I wanted to thank AvatarToph for creating and sharing this amazing piece of artwork.

check it out

I absolutely love his little dog bed, the dog tag/licence on his collar and the detail of the Mac and Cheese (Kraft Dinner to my Canadian Peeps) in his dog bowl.

Chefs Kiss!! 💋