AN: This might turn into a series. I'm not sure.

"Have you ever considered getting a pet?"

John looked up from his paperwork, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. "What?"

"I think a pet would be good for you. Not a cat, obviously, because of your 'allergies' but what about a dog or bird?"

"I'm not getting a pet - especially not a bird."

"Are you allergic to those too?"

"No. They're noisy and dirty."

Dorian nodded thoughtfully. "I know of several dog breeds that could be suitable to you. They are low-maintenance but very affectionate."

"Do they get along with androids?"

"Most animals enjoy my presence. They're like children but not such a big responsibility. Almost like training for parents."

John leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to consider what he was just told. "So when you say I should get a pet, do you mean I should get a pet or… we should get a pet."

Dorian looked down at the desk. "I understand that many people consider pets as family and that it could be a milestone in a relationship to adopt an animal together. I did not intend it in that manner but if you -"

"I don't think it would be such a good idea… Um… I don't think we're ready for such a… uh…"

"Commitment?"

"Yeah."

John fidgeted in his chair as he waited for Dorian to reply. There was background noise in the offices from the handful of people working late but it was still uncomfortably quiet at John's desk. After a few minutes of the fragile atmosphere, Dorian nodded.

"I understand. I do not believe our relationship is stable enough to consider it."

"Right."

Dorian smiled even though John could see the bit of newfound despair in his eyes. John smiled back, trying his best to show him sympathy.

"Are you almost done?" Dorian asked.

"There's nothing I can't finish up in the morning." This was a lie. There was going to be a very upset Maldonado when they walked in the doors tomorrow morning.

Dorian and John made it out to the car, silent the entire way home. They went through their nightly rituals, neither of them fully mentally there, finally settling into bed a little before midnight. John wrapped his arms around Dorian, knowing that while he recharged he was oblivious to any sensation and therefore could not feel John's thumb stroke his hip or the kiss carefully planted on the back of his neck.

It wasn't until a month and a bloody case later that they brought up a pet again. A death was bad enough for John but to learn the victim had no family nearby and being put in charge of telling the family made him curl his hands into his hair and spend too much money at a bar. At least he had Dorian now, to help.

The daughter and her husband drove to the station to get the details. Dorian provided the most comfort while John kept his voice steady, telling them how they found the elderly women and mentally swearing as the couple began crying.

Problems arising during the aftermath of a case was not rare. They had dealt with angry family, missing paperwork, and death of officers and detectives. They had, however, never come across custody issues involving a dog. There was no way the daughter could take it and there was no one else they knew that would want it. It was cute dog, a border collie that big but still young, with a shiny coat and one missing leg. Everyone would regret it but it would be sent to a shelter and wait to be adopted or, as Dorian pointed out, be euthanized. John had stared at the limping dog the first day he encountered it and knew that it would be the latter. There couldn't be too many people who wanted a legless dog.

Dorian begged to find a no-kill shelter but there were none close enough. He fought for almost a week to find an alternative. By then, John was fed up with Dorian's protectiveness over the dog. It was a misfit that took up too much of the DRN's time. Time that he could be spending on other cases and keeping John company. When it finally seemed as though Dorian had given up, John was called into Maldonado's office to see Dorian standing with the damn dog at his side.

"Dorian thinks he may have a solution to his problem," Maldonado said.

John glared at his partner. "And what is it?"

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. He passed the leash from one hand to another. "Do you remember our conversation about you having a pet?"

"I do. I also remember saying that there was no way I was getting one."

"It will only be temporary. Just until we can find someone who can take him."

"No." John shook his head. "No one's going to want him."

"There has to be someone. If we put out an ad -"

"No one is going to want him," John repeated. "Look at him. We'll be stuck with a three-legged dog - and you know what? There is no 'we' in this. You care about the dog, I'm just getting forced into it."

"Kennex," Maldonado warned. It was obvious she was only there to mediate. "Keep your temper."

John sighed. "Dorian, we're not keeping this dog. End of discussion."

Dorian's hand went lax, the leash barely hanging onto his fingers.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time," John said to Maldonado before curtly turning on his heel and leaving the office.

John was still angry by the time their shift was over. Dorian sat dejected in the passenger's seat, eyes fixed on his lap while John drove, stiff and his jaw clenched.

"Are we really not going to talk about it?" Dorian risked asking as they neared their apartment.

"Yes!"

Dorian didn't flinch at the harsh tone. Instead, he looked up at John. "Why do you not want the dog?"

"I'm not an animal person."

"I know that is not true. Why do you really not want the dog?"

"It's mixing work and personal life."

Dorian gave him a skeptical look. "You have already done that with me. You are running out of excuses."

John was silent. Dorian sat up, leaning forward to get a good glimpse at his partner's face. "Is it because he is missing a leg."

"What?"

"I thought you weren't self-conscious anymore."

"I'm not!"

"Your heart-rate and blood pressure suggests otherwise. John, I am always here if there is something you want to talk about."

John made an abrupt stop in front of their apartment. "I know what you're doing," he said, turning to Dorian. "You think this dog will make a good pet for me because we're the same and we'll have a spiritual connection and I'll be magically fixed and start taking pride in my synthetic leg. It's not going to happen so you can stop trying. I don't need fixing and a goddamn dog wouldn't even do anything." John's voice rose steadily until he was yelling. "Get your head out of your ass! This isn't some precious romance you've read!"

Dorian shook his head, slowly. He felt numb and slightly sick as John's outburst. "I just thought the dog was an opportunity to get a pet."

John opened the car door and stormed out. Dorian followed at a safe distance. He waited until they were inside to start talking.

"I didn't know the leg was going to make you uncomfortable. I only thought it was a coincidence."

"Then maybe you should stop thinking. Stop assuming you know what's best for me."

"I am sorry. If you do not want the dog, I will take him to a shelter tomorrow and he will be euthanized in two weeks."

John didn't say anything. He leaned against the counter, head hung.

"I have to see what shelters can take him. I will be back later tonight."

John opened his mouth to stop him but it was too late and the apartment door slammed shut.

Dorian spent the majority of the time walking around the city. He visited only one shelter, asked them about policies and left. He resigned himself to the fact that it did not matter what shelter he chose and that the dog would have the same chances of surviving in any of them. By the time he made it back to the apartment, the streetlights were on and the majority of the houses were dark as everyone had gone to bed. In their own apartment, the lights were dim and Dorian could hear John, moving around somewhere.

"I thought you would be asleep," Dorian said when he saw John, sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of bourbon in front of him.

"I wanted to make sure you got home alright," John said, his words slurring together ever so slightly. "That you weren't kidnapped and sold for scrap."

Dorian walked to his side. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A lot," John said, draining the rest of his drink.

Dorian took a step to the side when John clambered to his feet. He grabbed the glass off the table and put it on the counter, reaching for the open bottle. Dorian grabbed his hand before it made its way to the bourbon.

"You've had enough," he said gently.

"What did I tell you about assuming what's best for me?"

"You're going to be miserable in the morning. Just come to bed."

Dorian let go of his hand and John let it drop to his side. They stood in silence, John staring at the bottle that was already running low on bourbon from his binge, and then finally looking up to Dorian. He met blue eyes, so full of concern and apology.

"Calibration fail."

John's knees buckled underneath him. His arm uselessly swept across the counter in a poor attempt to catch himself. Dorian caught him before he hit the floor and hoisted him back up. He dragged John to the table where the drunk man collapsed into the chair.

"Are you alright?" Dorian asked, keeping his voice low and at a level of comfort.

Tears stung John's eyes. He blinked furiously to keep them back but it only helped push the tears out and trail down his cheeks. Dorian grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. He pulled a chair over with his foot and sat down as close to his partner as he could. John tried pushing him away, tried hitting Dorian with clumsy hands that wouldn't hit him in any other way than little slaps that were caught halfway to their destination. Dorian hushed him and pulled the hands down to his lap.

"It's alright," he said, drawing the man's head to his shoulder.

John's breathing became ragged and heavy and Dorian could feel tears start to stain his shirt.

"Why do you have to remind me of it?" John sobbed. "Why can't you let me ignore it?"

Dorian held him a bit tighter.

"It's alright," he repeated - not for the last time that night.

John sat at his desk, trying to block out the bright lights and loud noises coming all throughout the office. A stack of paperwork sat at his desk, courtesy of the Captain. He hoped that it wasn't as much as it looked like but after thumbing through it, he concluded that it was even more. His pen scribbled words that John himself had trouble reading when he saw Dorian in the corner of his eye. He bit his lip as he looked up, the vague memories of the night before resurfacing and making John's heart clench.

"I'm going to take the dog to the shelter," Dorian said, Valerie at his side.

Dorian's eyes were fixed on a single point on the floor. Valerie didn't look pleased either and put a hand on Dorian's shoulder.

"Why not keep it for a few more days?" John asked. "We can make calls tonight. See if anyone wants to take him off the station's hands."

Dorian shook his head. "Maldonado will only allow me to keep him until tonight. He has been sleeping in the MX quarters."

John rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to come with you?"

"Detective Stahl and I will be fine, thank you."

Guilt made a home in the pit of John's stomach. Dorian and Valerie left the offices and when they returned, Dorian looked as though he had personally killed the thing - although, John thought, there was probably no difference to him. For the rest of their shift, Dorian did not speak and patiently waited for John to finish the paperwork. On some days, John was jealous of Dorian. Synthetics were not required to do paperwork as long as their partners were doing it and they would only sit with their partner. However, watching Dorian stare at the the floor, heartbroken, John did not consider this one of those days.

John tried getting Dorian's mind off of it at home and threw an arm around him while they watched tv. He even pulled the other into his arms, cuddling for the first time in weeks. Cuddling was not a common thing for them. His attempts did not work and Dorian was listless by the end of the horrible tv program that only provided mild entertainment.

A million ideas whirled around in John's head. He shot down most of them and severely shot down one in specific. But looking at Dorian's pout, the initial "no" turned into a hesitant "maybe" and then a reluctant "why not?". It was only to make Dorian happy and there was no way he could live with a depressed android.

"I have to run some errands," John said, gathering his keys and wallet.

"It's late," Dorian said, looking up at him.

"I won't be gone too long." John leaned down and kissed Dorian on top of his head. "Will you be ok?"

Dorian nodded. "Hurry back."

John returned to the apartment not even an hour later. He strode into the living room, wearing a smile that looked somewhat forced. Dorian raised an eyebrow. He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch and a new show was on that had not quite captured his attention.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"Just to pick up a few things. Close your eyes, I have surprise for you."

Dorian gave him a quizzical look but closed his eyes. John quietly left the room and returned with the three-legged collie, limping up to Dorian. It jumped up, putting it's only front paw in Dorian's lap and immediately began licking his face. Dorian pulled his face away and opened his eyes. His face lit up like John had never seen before and he wrapped his arms around the dog, pulling it into his lap.

"Chip!"

The smile slowly faded from John's face. "Chip? You named it already?"

"It was his name when we found him," Dorian said, rubbing the dog's scruff. "You really adopted him?"

"I was going to say that we adopted him but I'm starting to regret getting him." John watched distastefully as Chip thoroughly soaked the side of Dorian's face with his saliva. "Don't let him do that."

"It's fine," Dorian said, his sentence ending with a laugh that made John's heart pound and his stomach flip. "Thank you."

John sat down next to Dorian. Chip scrambled over Dorian's lap to get to John's and stuck his nose, which was very wet and gross in John's opinion, in his face. He tried pushing the dog away but it was strong despite it still being a puppy and began licking the detective's scowling mouth. Dorian's laughter filled the room.

John silently cheered. Dorian had long since gone to bed and even though there was no way he would wake up mid-charge from noise, John still stayed quiet while watching the soccer game. It was silly and domestic but no one had to know.

Chip calmly climbed up on the couch next to him, taking a second to find a comfortable spot and curl up. John looked at the dog in disbelief.

"No. You're not sitting on the furniture."

John pushed the dog a little but he remained in the same spot. He put his head on his paw and peered up at John with a look of such innocence, he could rival Dorian. John sighed.

"Down."

Chip closed his eyes, unimpressed. John would have Dorian train him starting in the morning but for now John would just have to clean up the hair. He turned back to the game, intending to forget the dog's presence and focus solely on how his team was kicking ass.

John wasn't sure when it happened but at the end of the game, Chip was asleep and had managed to scoot closer to John. His head was pushed into John's synthetic thigh, nuzzling it practically. He didn't even notice until the tv was off and his attention could be spared for the things around him. Quickly, he jerked his leg away, waking Chip up. John didn't spare him a glance as he turned off the lights and leave for his bedroom.

Dorian laid in the bed, completely still and John knew if he paid too much attention, looked close enough, he would look eerily not alive and not human. John set his leg to recharge and crawled in next to him. He kissed Dorian goodnight on the slack lips to make up for the distracted, sloppy one earlier that night. In the morning. Dorian would be able to sense the toothpaste and beer on his lips in the morning.

John had just closed his eyes when he heard the bedroom door open and a new weight on the bed. As Chip settled into the area where John's leg would be, John sighed, too tired to kick him off.

John woke up to his favorite feeling in the world. Dorian had wrapped his arm around his waist and snuggled close up against him. John smiled and burrowed further into his android. He could hear Dorian huff a laugh because he knew John was awake but was taking a rare moment to give into his inner-cuddler and little spoon and enjoy the lazy Saturday morning. They laid like that for countless minutes in blissful silence.

Dorian was about to suggest they get out of bed but he was interrupted by Chip stirring from his position and apparently wanting to participate in the cuddle. He found balance on John's hip and began licking the detective's face.

"Stop that!" John swatted him away. "Why does he like my face?"

Dorian sat up, grabbing Chip and setting him in his lap. "I can understand. I like your face, too. "

John would have normally responded with a smirk, shake of the head, and maybe a witty, suggestive retort. Instead, he wiped his face with his arm and sat up.

"God, I regret getting him back from the shelter."

Dorian smiled. "He'll grow on you."

"No," John said, putting on his leg and heading to the bathroom. "He won't."