Author's Note: Forgive me. I'm posting this without a beta, and it's not LaughableBlackStorm's fault. My computer tends to eat the files she sends me and I can't find it. Also, I didn't want to wait to ask her to resend it, so I read through it and hopefully it's OK. Enjoy. I'm working on a few other projects right now, so... you'll see the next one when it comes.

Epilogue

An arm rose into the air, the finger stiff and certain as the corners of lips curled into a decisive smirk.

"That one."

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes on the man that towered over him. He padded across the room, looking out through the chain link at the eyes that sparkled at him as if he were the Christmas present the man's inner child had always wanted.

He sneezed and it shook his tiny body. The man laughed. He wagged his tail.

Another human came into view and crouched to look in the cell. The puppy sneezed again.

"He looks a little sick."

The first man fell to his knees, almost in reverence. "So we'll take care of him."

The puppy opened his mouth, his tongue falling out over his teeth as he breathed at the two men. If he could, he would have smiled. He wanted to play.

"He's a mutt," said the second man.

The puppy didn't know what that word meant.

"We're all mutts," the first man returned, the grin a permanent feature on his face.

The second man placed his palm against the chain link. The puppy took a few more steps to the barrier between them and dragged his rough tongue against the salty surface, tasting metal and sweat.

The second man laughed. He rose to his feet. "How old is this dog?"

"We're not sure," said the woman who worked at the shelter. "We're guessing maybe… about four months."

"So… January?"

The shelter worker nodded. "That's right. So you want him, or not?"

"We'll take 'im," said the first man, who hadn't looked away from the puppy for a moment. The puppy, for his part, couldn't look away from the man.

"Greg, we should talk about this…"

"Nick," the first man said stubbornly. "I want this dog."

Nick slowly smiled and his eyes fell on the scruffy puppy. He was a breed of unknown origins, who walked with a bit of a skip, and whose tail was slightly crooked, and he had a little bit of a doggy cold. But his eyes were eager and young and had a spark in them that were mirrored in Greg's own soft, wide, chocolate eyes.

The puppy caught sight of a tuft of white out of the corner of his eye. He turned to get a better look, but the white tuft shot out of his vision. He followed it diligently, determined to see what it was. Every now and then, he caught sight of it, always out of the corner of his eye and he skipped on after it, turning sharply in circles, round and round. He felt that he was bound to catch it eventually. He wasn't old enough to understand that some things are never meant to be caught.

That's why old dogs don't chase their tails.

For their part, the two men intertwined hands as they watched the enthusiastic puppy run around in circles and snap at his tail. Greg's head fell onto Nick's shoulder and he smiled.

"Could you give us a moment?" Nick asked the shelter worker and she nodded and stepped out the door. Nick gripped Greg by the shoulders and tried to look the younger man in the eye, but it was difficult as Greg's attention was captured by the puppy.

"Greg, a dog is a big deal."

"Don't treat me like an eight-year-old, I know how to take care of a dog," Greg returned.

Nick paused. "I know," he said. "You're good at caring for…" He couldn't find the word. Greg shrugged awkwardly out of his grip. "No, I mean that this is a big deal… for us."

Greg slid his arms around Nick's waist. "I love…" He smirked. "… that dog."

Nick snorted. "Why do you want a dog so badly?"

Greg didn't answer directly. Instead, he kissed Nick softly on the lips before pulling away and crouching in front of the cage. The puppy was watching him intently, seeing two shades of brown in his eyes now. They were once in conflict with each other, competing for dominance, like two different paints on a palate. But eventually, they blended together, creating depth and shadow on the canvas of his irises. There was harmony where there was once discord. The puppy, self-centered as he was, liked to think that he brought that kind of peace to humans who gazed at him.

But puppies are simple creatures. The only happiness they understand is at the bottom of a red bowl with their name on it. The dog sniffed, and then that elusive white tuft caught his attention again and he was after it immediately.

"I know this is a big deal," Greg said. "You want a dog, I want a dog…" He sighed. "Everybody wants a dog. And this dog wants us. Everybody… everybody will be happy with that."

The woman who worked at the shelter opened the door. "Have you two made a decision?"

Nick watched Greg for a long time, the hint of a smile blossoming at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah," Nick he finally said to the woman. "We'll take him."

She nodded and unlocked the chain-link gate. The puppy fell over himself when he saw that the door was open and panted up at the shelter worker. He fell back, standing on his hind legs and yapping at her, ready to play. She scooped him up in her arms and his course, hot tongue lapped at her skin.

"Would you like to hold him?" she asked the puppy's new parents.

Greg's arms shot out. "Give 'im here."

She smiled and carefully placed the mutt in his arms.

Greg held the dog close to his chest and the puppy climbed up to breathe wetly into his neck. Greg laughed. "He tickles."

"He's yours," said Nick.

"Ours," Greg corrected.

"I'll do the paperwork," Nick told the woman. He gestured at Greg with his thumb. "This one'll be too distracted."

They followed her into the next room, the bright room with the warm, fuzzy floors that the puppy never got to walk on. He squirmed in Greg's arms, wanting to jump down and roll around and dig. Life was too short not to roll in the fuzzy earth.

But Greg held on tightly as Nick went over the papers. They discussed proper housing, and a standard anti-abuse contract, as well as local pet stores and veterinarians. And Greg played with the puppy. He ruffled the dog's fur and the dog kicked his back leg. Nick filled out all the basics. Greg let the puppy lick between his fingers.

And then, Nick raised his head. "What are you going to name him?"

Greg didn't hesitate. "Cooper," he said. Nick turned and cast him a wary look. Greg explicated. "We named the dogs after famous writers. Stoker, Kipling…"

"Cooper," Nick said with a smile. "Of course." He turned back to the clipboard.

Greg scratched Cooper behind the ears. "You're named after a brilliant writer," he said. "Wear it proudly, little guy."

Cooper sneezed.

And Greg laughed.

THE END