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When Grif was a kid, he and Kai had brought home a dog. He was a small thing, one of his eyes missing, but he and Kai had loved him hard and without fail. They’d make shitty make-shift toys, ball up their socks and throw them for him to fetch, and Grif remembered sacrificing sections of his food for the dog.

(Kai was never allowed to; she’d once tried to sneak the dog some and burst into tears when Grif told her not to waste her own food.

“But you do it!”

“I don’t need it,” Grif would say. “You’re still growing up. You need it more.”

Kai kept crying until Grif compromised that she could throw the pieces he’d cut off his own food. The dog’s wagging tail made her laugh too much for him to refuse.)

Then one day Grif came home to find the house empty. He’d searched the house up and down, frantically calling the dog’s name until his mother emerged from her room, stinking of drink and with powder under her nose.

“It’s gone,” she’d told him. “Ran away.”

But Grif knew that was a lie. The dog never would have run away. He loved them too much, loved getting his belly scratched and his neck ruffled.

When Kai came home, Grif told her the dog’s family had picked him back up. She cried and cried for days, but Grif just hugged her until she admitted that it was probably happy to be back with its owners.

Grif had only nodded. That day, he started planning their escape.

It wouldn’t happen for another three years, not until their mother had too much to drink and confused her children, not until the first time their mother tried to put her hands on his little sister. But Grif never forgot that dog. It was one of the happiest memories he had in his childhood.

Which was why, twenty years later, Grif froze when he came home to a dog sitting right in front of the door.

He froze, then blinked, then narrowed his eyes and looked around the room.

The dog was small but had both of its eyes. And, contrary to Grif’s dog, you couldn’t see its ribs from a mile away. No, this mutt looked happy, with curly fur and big eyes and a tail that wouldn’t stop moving no matter what.

Grif looked up, eyeing the room ever so slowly, but it seemed to be empty. He looked down to the dog and sighed. “So, where the fuck did you come from?”

The dog just blinked stupidly and wagged its tail.

Grif crouched down, offering a cautious hand for it to sniff. Surprisingly – or maybe not – the dog didn’t even bother sniffing him, instead jumping straight into Grif’s face and covering him with icky, sticky licks.

Grif fell onto his ass, scowling as he tried to push the dog away. “Aww – fucking gross, man, learn some personal space!” The mutt kept slithering back close to him, slipping under his arms to not-so-gently jump on his crotch and lick up his nose.

With all the energy he could muster – which really wasn’t a lot – Grif pushed himself up and shoved the dog off. It didn’t seem deterred, instead following his every step as he attempted to escape into the kitchen and dig his phone from his pocket.

Grif continued to watch the dog as he dialled a number, bring it up to his ear with narrowed eyes. “Stop jumping on me,” he told the dog.

It didn’t listen to him.

“Shoo, shoo,” he said, kicking out his leg. “Go find something else to hump.”

Suddenly, the sound of a phone buzzing came from the back of the apartment. Grif glanced at his own phone, where it was still calling its recipient, and sighed. He looked down at the dog. “No surprise,” he sighed. “This does sound like something he’d do.”

With the dog behind him, Grif padded across the apartment until he was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, eyes glued to the figure inside.

Simmons was splayed across their bed, pillows and duvet tossed and turned as if they’d been caught up in a tornado. His mouth was half-open, drooling lightly onto the pillow under him, and his arm was angled to the nightstand where a pair of glasses were just on the edge of falling off.

The afternoon sun cast pretty shadows across the room, and in it, Simmons’ red hair almost seemed to glow. It wasn’t neat or brushed like it usually was – instead, the strands were rough and messy and tossed every which way. The smattering of freckles on his face was even more visible in the light, the dots small and endearing despite Simmons’ constant protest that it made him look like a dork.

Oh, Simmons definitely looked like a dork, but it wasn’t because of the freckles.

Grif watched tenderly for a few more moments, taking another step into the room. He smiled, then leaned down to grab a pillow and hit Simmons right on the head.

The man jumped up immediately.

“Ow!” He yowled, rubbing the back of his head. “What the fuck, Grif?!”

“Why is there a dog in the apartment?”

Simmons froze, eyes darting down to where the mutt was trying to jump onto the bed. After about seven tries, it finally succeeded and launched itself at Simmons’ head.

“Uhh, dog?” Simmons asked, trying to subtly push the mutt away. “What dog? Is there a dog here? I don’t see a dog, do you? Because I certainly don’t—”

“Jesus Christ.” Grif pinched his nose. “Simmons, I can see the dog.”

“No, you can’t.”

“You’re petting it.”

Simmons looked down and narrowed betrayed eyes at the hand petting the dog. He sighed dejectedly. “Yeah, okay, there’s a dog.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Grif watched narrowly. “Where did you even get it from?”

“Well,” Simmons said sheepishly, “you know how Caboose’s dog, Freckle, had puppies last month?”

Grif raised a brow. “I thought the mom’s owner said she was selling them?”

“She is. And Caboose just wanted to say goodbye, you know, let Freckles see his kids for the last time, and he invited me so I went and checked them out, and…”

He trailed off, looking at the dog with wide eyes. The thing made a point of licking at Simmons’ chin and the man cooed.

“Grif, he was just so cute! Look at him!” He lifted the dog, moving its arms like it was speaking. “I couldn’t leave him alone, Grif, he’s just so adorable!”

Grif remained unimpressed. “We’re not keeping it. Take it back.”

“Wha – we are not. How could you get up his little hopes like that?” He looked to the dog again, cupping its face, then winced. “Besides, I already told Caboose we’d take him in, so unless you want to deal with Caboose’s anguish at breaking a promise, then…”

Grif scowled, remembering the temper tantrum Caboose threw last time someone had turned back on their word. “Then take it to a shelter or something, I don’t care.”

“Grif, they could kill him!”

“Why do you even want a dog so bad?!”

Simmons held up a finger. “Well, first, we’ve both agreed that having a dog doubles your chances of surviving the zombie apocalypse.” Grif nodded reluctantly. What healthy couple didn’t have a detailed, step-by-step plan on how they would survive the apocalypse? Amateurs, all of them. “And,” Simmons continued, “there’s been tons of studies showing how having a pet can biologically improve your life—”

Grif interrupted him. “You do realise you’ll have to potty train it?”

Simmons gave him a look. “Obviously.”

“And walk it every day.”

“I’m not ten, Grif, I know this.”

“And we’ll be spending money on feeding it every day.”

“Oh – I just thought I’d buy the dog and let it starve in a couple of days, you know, old style.” Simmons scowled. “I fucking know that, asshat.”

Grif crossed his arms. “I’m not picking up its shit.”

“It’d be a miracle if you got up for him at all,” Simmons snorted.

Grif rolled his eyes and sat down. Almost instantly the dog launched itself at him, body vibrating with excitement and getting gross slobber all over his face. Simmons didn’t bother to cover up his laughter, totally-not-adorable giggles getting through and causing him to blush even more.

Grif opened his mouth to say something when he heard the front door opening, and he eyed Simmons suspiciously as the man sent him a hurried smile and got up.

It took him a full minute to convince the dog to get off him, and he still felt sticky and wet when he entered the living room to see Kai, of all people, whispering with Simmons under her breath.

“You’re late,” Simmons said quietly, unaware that Grif was behind him, and Kai just rolled her eyes. “You were supposed to be here before he got home, you should have seen his face when—”

He was cut off when Kai let out a shrill squeak, and Grif had a moment of panic before he realised his sister was just yelling at the mutt she’d finally seen. It skid across the floor, glad to meet a new person, and she picked it up like she was being reunited with a long-lost family member instead of a fucking dog she’d never even met before.

Grif crossed his arms as she fussed over the thing. Simmons ducked into the kitchen and came back with a dog toy that looked like it’d already undergone some pretty heavy biting. The dog gladly took to it, yipping delightfully as Kai played tug with it.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” she said. “Those pictures you sent me don’t even fucking compare, Sims.”

Grif looked to Simmons. “You told Kai before you told me?”

“Technically, she bullied me into adopting him, actually.”

Grif rolled his eyes, wondering what else he expected, and Kai scoffed. “Pssh, that wasn’t bullying. Bullying implies some effort. It was more like herding cats, which is fucking easy.”

Simmons frowned. “That’s not what that phrase mea—”

Kai picked up the dog and cuddled it to her chest. “I can’t believe you have a dog!”

“We don’t,” Grif said, only to find himself on the end of double glares. “Simmons, you can’t just come home with a dog and think I’ll be fine with it. Aren’t you the one who always says we have to ‘talk to each other’?” he said, quoting the words like they were the stupidest thing in the world. He hid his smirk when Simmons groaned.

“You’re telling me you’d happily send this poor, innocent dog to the pound to be put down?”

“Yes.”

Kai gasped, covering the dog’s ears. “Dex! Don’t say that out loud, he’ll hear you!”

Grif rolled his eyes and turned around, heading for the bedroom. “It’s not staying here!”

“It totally is!” Kai’s voice called back, and he scowled as he got changed out of his work clothes.

The next morning, the dog still wasn’t gone. Kai had already taken dozens of photos and his phone kept lighting up with her Instagram notifications, what felt like hundreds of pictures of the same damn dog in the same damn pose.

He made himself breakfast – microwave heated cereal, of course – and had to fend the mutt off with his foot, his harassment going completely ignored by both his sister and his boyfriend. Kai had slept over, making space for the dog at the bottom of the couch, and she and the dog were attached at the hip for the whole of the morning.

It was a Saturday, too, which mean Grif was actually stuck in his apartment with the thing. That was how bad it was. He was now thinking of staying at home as a bad thing. His perfect, lazy, sleep-in Saturday had been ruined by the yapping dog and all the attention it had garnered itself. Grif even offered to blow Simmons but was dismissed with a simple hand flap, the red-head too taken with the dog to look away. It was ridiculous!

By the end of the day, Grif finally managed to convince Kai that she was needed elsewhere – probably some seedy club that was missing a person from its orgy – until she left. He managed to convince Simmons to sit down to watch some episodes of Doctor Who, too, and it was good until the dog jumped on the man’s lap and stole his attention away once more.

“Who’s going to look after it while we’re at work?”

Simmons looked up, distracted, and hummed, “huh? Oh, Junior already offered to come over every day when we’re busy.”

Grif raised a brow. “Did you tell Tucker before you told me, too?”

Simmons looked away like he hadn’t said anything. “Tucker said he’s excited, since they can’t have their own dog in their apartment. Hopefully it’ll get Junior to stop begging so much, because even I hear about it every time we go over.”

“And what happens when the summer’s over and Junior goes back to school?”

“Man, what is it with you tonight? Usually I’m the one who worries about everything so much, not the other way around. Do you really hate dogs so much?”

“I don’t hate dogs,” Grif grumbled. Simmons shot him a dubious look and he sighed. “Look, I’m just not a dog person, okay? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted the damn thing.”

Simmons looked back down at the dog, petting its ears mournfully. “Look, if you really want me to, I’ll take it back. I’m not going to force you to have a dog.”

Grif watched him – the way he stared at the dog, ran his hands down its back. The way the dog watched him back, black eyes wide with happiness and excitement. Before he even said anything, Grif was already rolling his eyes at himself. Dating had turned him into a fucking pushover.

“Alright, fine,” he said, and from the corner of his eyes he could see Simmons looking up hopefully. “I’m not going to make you give up the dog. I’m not that much of a jackass.”

“Debatable,” Simmons said, but he was grinning too much for it to be serious. He pulled Grif into a long kiss, pulling away slow enough that it left Grif feeling like his face was on fire. Judging by the smirk on the man’s face, Simmons was well aware of what he’d done. “Trust me, you’re gonna fall in love with this dog in no time.”

Grif snorted. “As if.”

“I’m gonna make sure of it,” Simmons promised, then pointed to the TV as he set his head on Grif’s shoulder. “Now come on, go back a bit. I missed whatever the Doctor was saying.”

Grif sighed and did as he was told. He eyed the dog suspiciously as it settled in Simmons’ lap, silently telling it not to get too comfortable anytime soon.

Grif forced the dog to sleep outside their bedroom, but Kai had brought over a dog bed – along with dozens of other unnecessary, in Grif’s opinion, items – that looked almost more comfortable than their own bed. It started scratching at their door at two-am, though, and Grif was forced to deal as Simmons brought it in to sleep at the end of their bed.

The dog lasted a full three days before a name. Then Kai, who for some fucking reason kept coming back – she was around all the time for the dog, of course, but the moment he wanted a get a hold of her she’d be down in Florida doing body shots or something – had to pipe up and say, “So what’s the dog’s name?”

“Oh,” Simmons said, putting down his Xbox controller with a frown. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

Kai made a face. “You didn’t think of naming your dog.”

“I was too busy coming up with a way to convince Grif to let us keep him!” He cried in defence, voice squeaking, and Grif didn’t bother to hide his chuckles. Simmons glared at him. “Hey, it was a sound strategy.”

“Well, he needs to be named now.” She tapped her chin. “What about Carl?”

“Carl?” Simmons scrunched his nose up. “Like the Walking Dead? No thanks.”

“No, like the guy who gave me the third abortion!”

“Ah,” Simmons said, then blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Oooh, what about Kakaino?”

“We are not naming the dog after you,” Grif said. “Just pick a name and get over it.”

“But Grif, naming your pet is an important part of their identity! You need a name that’s unique but recognisable, one that’s easy to call out in an emergency, but not one short enough that—”

“Fuck, Simmons, sorry I even asked.” Grif rolled his eyes. “How was I supposed to know there was an exact science to it?”

“What about Darwin?” Simmons asked. “It’s cool, catchy, and it ties into his theory of evolution as—”

“Too nerdy,” Kai said. “What about Kokaina?”

“For the last time, we are not naming the dog after you!”

“Einstein’s too on the nose,” Simmons said thoughtfully. “What about Albert?”

“Oh, Albert was the name of the dude who gave me my fifth abortion.”

“Okay, what the fuck?!”

Grif rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus Christ, fucking fine, I’m choosing the name of the dog, okay?!”

Simmons and Kai both watched him, something like regret in their eyes as if they realised that Grif would probably choose an extra-shitty name on purpose now. Grif was tempted to – fully intended to, actually – except all he could think about was that dog.

The dog he’d had as a kid, only for a few weeks, but which cemented its place in his childhood so solidly he couldn’t help but see it whenever he looked at this dog. A dog that was much fatter and healthier and had both its eyes – the two really didn’t look alike, if he was honest, but he just couldn’t help it.

He thought about that dog, about when he and Kai still lived in Hawaii, when everything was easier and harder at the same time – and before he could even think about it, he had blurted out, “Pineapple.”

There was silence for a second as the others processed it.

“Pineapple,” Simmons said slowly, his face scrunching up more and more. Then suddenly Kai burst into laughter, laughter strong enough that it bowled her over and she fell to the floor, the dog frantically sniffing at her like she was having a heart attack.

“Pineapple,” she said through her wheezes. “Okay, I actually really like that! Fuck yeah! Pineapple, give me a high five.” She put her hand up for a high five and the dog jumped to bite at her fingers, tugging like they were chew toys.

“Pineapple,” Simmons repeated, looking confused. “I don’t get it.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Grif said, then turned to look at the dog – Pineapple, now. “You better not be a little shit around the house,” he said, rolling his eyes as Pineapple turned to nibble at his fingers. “I spoke too soon.”

Later that night, when Grif was scrolling on his phone in bed and Pineapple was snoring soundly at the bottom of the bed, Simmons slipped into the room and said, “Pineapple? As in Pineapple Island, really?”

Grif shrugged. Either Simmons had finally figured it out himself, or Kai had given up and told him. Either way, it made him grin. “What? It’s symbolic?”

“Symbolic my ass,” Simmons said, but got into bed nevertheless. When he was laying beside Grif he said, “I thought you grew up in Honolulu?”

“We were born in Lanai,” Grif said, “but we grew up in Honolulu.”

He could see Simmons thinking it over, his eyes growing distant until he said, “oh. So, you lived in Honolulu after you…”

“After we ran away, yeah,” Grif finished. “Dunno why I said Pineapple, though. It’s all corny and cheesy and shit."

"I like it," Simmons said, leaning down to stroke Pineapple’s head as he slept. “Trust you to name our dog after food, though.”

Grif grinned. “Hey, maybe I’ll like him after all.”

Grif did not like Pineapple the next day, when Simmons was off at work and he had to walk the damn thing.

He didn’t remember how they’d dealt with the old dog – did they keep it inside house, too afraid letting it outside would mean it’d never come back, or did it come and go as it please, happy to have a place to sleep at the end of the day? Either way, Grif had completely forgotten that a dog needed to be fucking walked.

He’d whined and groaned across the phone until Kai agreed to come round, sacrificing precious time in her very busy week of clubbing to spend time with her poor, suffering brother.

“Stop being such a baby,” she said as they walked through the park.

Pineapple was on a lead – it had miniature food prints on it, of course, and apparently Kai had ordered pineapple ones that were meant to come later in the week, of course – and stopped every five seconds to sniff at a patch of grass happily. Kai held him, because Grif wasn’t willing to put up with the dog pulling him everywhere, but she certainly didn’t look like she was complaining.

“I’m just saying,” Grif sighed, “if we hadn’t gotten Pineapple, I could be in bed right now.”

“Yeah, covered in your own sweat and Dorito crumbs. Besides, walking Pineapple is way better than anything you could be doing in bed – and trust me, I would know!”

“He literally shit on the sidewalk a minute ago.”

“Thank God you don’t have a cat, at least,” she laughed. “Then you’d have to scoop up a whole pile each day.”

“At least cats put it all into one area. Plus, I’m pretty sure you just use a shovel to get it out or something, not poop bags. That shit’s disgusting.”

“You’re a grinch,” Kai said, and he flipped her off when she stuck her tongue out at him.

They walked for a bit more, talking about their weeks and their jobs – not that Kai had a job, he didn’t think; she just managed to convince guys and girls to buy her every drink and meal and, when she couldn’t do that, hit him and Simmons up for rent money like the responsible adult she was – until Grif cast his mind back to what had started this whole thing.

He hesitated, then said, “hey Kai?”

She hummed absently, caught up with Pineapple licking his own butthole or something else, and he steadied his breath.

“Do you remember that dog we had, back on Lanai?”

When she looked up, she looked confused. “We had a dog?”

“I mean – you were probably too young to remember, it’s not important—”

“Oh, wait!” She clapped her hands together, suddenly excited. “Maybe? Was it that little black cutie we had when I was, like, five?” Grif nodded and she cooed, picking Pineapple up like he was a baby. “Aww, man, he was the best! I remember, like, next to nothing about him but I know he was a really chill dog.”

“We only had him for a few weeks,” Grif said dubiously, and Kai made a sad sound.

“Yeah. Sucks that the family came back to pick him up – like, good for him and all that, but I wanted a puppy, damnit.”

“Right,” said Grif, his voice feeling like ash, and distracted himself by gesturing to the dog. “We’ve got Pineapple now, at least. Good enough for you?”

“Better!” She hugged him tight and let him sniff at her hair, giggling when he started licking behind her ear. “Down, boy, down, I’m not into bestiality!”

“Ooookay,” Grif said, and quickly took Pineapple from her. “We’ve literally had him for a couple days and you’re already making a move on the dog. Awesome.”

Kai gagged. “Ew, gross, I said I’m not into it! You need to clear your ears out, Dex, get yourself a pedicure or something.”

“That’s more of Donut’s thing,” he said. He put Pineapple on the ground and pat his head, drawing a hand through the dog’s thick fur.

Pineapple had extraordinarily smooth fur. Grif vaguely remembered their old dog’s fur – it was filled with knots and tangles, dirty and thick and clearly uncared for, and there were bald patches where Grif suspected he’d either gotten stuck in some fencing or been the victim of some mean kid’s bullying. In contrast, Pineapple’s fur was long and curly but neat. It was well-looked after, even all around and just looked… nice.

Sometimes, when Grif looked at Pineapple, he remembered their old dog and it hurt.

Pineapple would tilt his head, and Grif would remember a time they’d tried to teach the mutt some tricks and it tilted its head in confusion. Pineapple would bark at someone outside the apartment, and he’d remember when he and Kai would shush their dog to avoid getting called on by the neighbours. Pineapple would chase something in his sleep, and Grif remembered laughing at their mutt snuffling and snoring in his sleep.

He never stopped wondering what their mom did with the dog. If she’d just dumped it somewhere far away, or given it to someone for spare cash, or worse. He didn’t like thinking about it, but he never stopped.

Watching Pineapple play and eat and sleep and shit made him think of what that dog missed out on, what they’d missed out on, and it kind of made him wish he could see his mom one last time just so he could yell at her again.

Kai took one look at him and said, “that’s your depressing-thoughts face. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Grif pulled her into his side without warning, laughing when she squealed. “Thinking about your face. Makes me sad, you know?”

Kai rolled her eyes, but she looked serious when she said, “honestly, though. Are you okay? I know Sims kind of sprung the Pineapple thing on you, but the dog’s not seriously bumming you out, is he?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Brain’s just being stupid.” He looked around them for a distraction and stopped at a side-walk vendor selling hot dogs. “Hey, you hungry? I could go for maybe five of those.”

“Only?” Kai snorted. “You know, I used to think those were made of real dogs. They’re not, right? Otherwise I’m taking Pineapple and running far away from here.”

“What a tragedy that would be.”

“You love Pineapple really!”

“Sure don’t love you, though.” That one earned him a punch to the shoulder.

He ended up paying for Kai’s hotdog and the dude even offered to give Pineapple a sausage on his own. The dog was ecstatic, gobbling it down in seconds, and dragging him away from his new best friend took them a full two minutes.

A couple days later, Junior apparently could no longer resist seeing the dog and all but dragged Tucker over to their apartment. Grif let them in readily – they always had beer at the ready and had learned to stock Junior’s favourite cookies after a night of emergency babysitting turned foul years ago.

Junior glued himself to Pineapple’s side like a magnet. The kid practically forgot there was anyone else in the building, following and chasing and being chased by the dog for what seemed like hours on end.

“He’s actually pretty cute,” Tucker said, watching Junior play with the dog. He and Grif sipped at their beers while the kid ran round with Pineapple, holding a squeaky toy above his head and ducking every time Pineapple got close enough to reach for it. “You could totally pick up chicks with him.”

“Right,” Grif said. “Because my days are just filled with chicks to pick up.”

“I’m just saying. I bet you scored a ton of points with Simmons for keeping him, too.”

Grif flickered his mind back to the past week. Simmons had definitely shown his, uh, appreciation the night Grif had agreed to keep him, and throughout the past days he found himself getting pulled into kisses and hugs whenever he took the time to play or feed Pineapple. To Grif, it was a pretty solid deal: do something as basic as making eye-contact with the dog and win a bunch of sexual favours from his boyfriend.

Maybe the whole dog thing was worth it after all.

He still didn’t like Pineapple, though. Could put up with the dog for Simmons and Kai, sure, and to entertain Tucker and his kid occasionally, and to keep Caboose from crying all over his shoulder at the prospect of him breaking a promise, but that didn’t mean he actually liked the dog.

Pineapple was annoying. He couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, always brought over toys to chase just as Grif sat down to relax, and needed to be walked what felt like every other five minutes. And sure, Grif didn’t walk him every day – he and Simmons took turns on their days off, and when neither were available Kai (or now Junior) was more than happy to lug the dog around the local park – but even just the thought of it was exhausting.

Grif only tolerated Pineapple, but he felt like it wasn’t a mutual feeling. Pineapple chased him around just like he did everyone else, insisted on sleeping next to him on the couch during Netflix hours, and kept bringing those damn toys to him. Grif played with him just to entertain the dog, but Pineapple lit up like – like – like someone who was really happy, okay, he just did.

It didn’t make Grif feel good at all. Not whatsoever.

“Man, do you think I could take him to those PTA bake sales or Junior’s basketball games or something? The single moms there are hot as hell and I bet having a puppy would get me all their numbers,” Tucker said.

“I’m not letting you pimp out my dog,” Grif frowned and Tucked booed him.

“Oh, come on dude! Don’t be boring! This is what happens when you’re dating Simmons, you let his kissass ways dull you until you deprive me of having sex.”

“First off, only I get to call my boyfriend dull.” Tucker rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out, and Grif wondered whether to remind him that he was in his thirties and a father. “Second, this isn’t me being boring, this is me not wanting you to leave him in the parking lot while you’re getting off with someone behind the parking lot. You would totally ditch Pineapple for some dick, man, don’t even.”

“Probably,” Tucker nodded. “He’d still be a total babe magnet, though.”

Grif hummed. He had definitely been stopped more than once while walking Pineapple by hot girls wanting to get a picture of the cute dog. Years ago he might have taken the opportunity to flirt and pocket a number, but these days he just wanted to get home sooner so he could finish that Star Trek marathon he had started with Simmons.

Their conversation was interrupted by Junior running into the room, Pineapple at his heels. The kid was laughing raucously with a toy in his hand that Pineapple kept trying to grab. Once he saw his dad he quickly paused, waving his fingers to catch Pineapple’s attention. He lay the first two fingers of his left hand flat, then brought down the first two fingers of his right hand onto them, and Pineapple—

Pineapple watched the movement carefully, then sat right down.

Junior looked up, thrilled. He walked away a bit until Pineapple followed him, then caught the dog’s attention again and repeated the gesture. Just like last time, Pineapple took a moment to watch before sitting down. Junior did it a third time before breaking out into thrilled laughter, hugging the dog something fierce.

“Dude, did my kid just teach your dog to sit in, like, five minutes?” Tucker laughed and called Junior over. He high-fived his song then reached down to stroke Pineapple’s head. “Pineapple is a genius, man!”

Grif snorted but humoured Junior as he made Pineapple sit down several more times, each time giving the dog his toy as a reward. Pineapple’s response time got faster and faster, and by the tenth command he was already sitting down as soon as Junior put his hands up.

“I’ve got a dog trainer in the works here,” Tucker said, pulling Junior in until the kid had no choice but to sit next to him. Junior pouted and protested but didn’t actually move away, curling into his father’s side as he started playing fetch with Pineapple. “Grif, you could totally enter Pineapple into those dog shows and win money!”

Grif was about to point out how fucking cringey that would be when he saw Junior look up all excited, practically vibrating. He stifled a sigh and said, “if Junior’s willing to do all the work. God knows I’m not gonna teach that dog shit.”

“How’s that sound, kid?” Tucker ruffled Junior’s hair. “You could be the next Ashley and Pudsey. Chicks would totally dig that.”

Junior laughed and rolled his eyes, poking his dad one last time before getting back up to chase Pineapple around the apartment. Grif wouldn’t be surprised if, by the time the Tuckers went home, Pineapple had learned an entire list of tricks.

He wasn’t too far off – Junior had Pineapple sitting, lying down and shaking paws by the time he left. Simmons was fucking thrilled when he got home from work, far too excited about the prospect of teaching Pineapple things.

“He must be part Border Collie or something,” he said, grinning when Pineapple shook his hand. “He’s too smart not to be.”

“Tucker was talking about signing him up for dog shows,” Grif said. He smirked when Pineapple launched himself at Simmons’ face instead of lying down, causing the man to cry out. “Which I think is cringey as fuck, but Junior looked excited, so if the kid is willing to put in the work then whatever.”

Simmons didn’t look so sure. “Having to go up and actually perform in front of people – with judges there to… well, judge you? I don’t really like the sound of that.”

Grif shrugged. “Figured you might be into that, wanting to impress people with Pineapple and all that.”

“What if he shits on the stage?” Simmons shuddered. “Okay, fuck that, we are not doing that, no thanks.”

“Just blame Junior.”

“I’m not blaming an eight-year-old for my dog shitting on stage!”

“I would,” Grif said. “Maybe we could even get him to pay the fine or whatever.”

“You’re horrible,” Simmons said, and yeah, Grif kind of was.

The next weekend, Grif and Simmons ate out at a restaurant and the idiot somehow got food poisoning. They didn’t go out for dates often – not traditional dates, at least, because nothing beat watching Battlestar Galactica for the eight time with someone who knew just as many quotes as you did – so they’d dressed up for a good night, but it all turned shit when Simmons came home and threw up into the toilet.

“Don’t eat shitty food next time,” Grif told him as Simmons moaned over the lid.

“Thanks for the advice,” Simmons mumbled, but Grif didn’t hear it as he was too busy trying to block Pineapple from eating a sandwich he’d made for himself. “How come you didn’t get food poisoning, too?”

“Superior stomach,” Grif said, and Simmons hummed wisely. “Benefit of eating so much. You should get on my level, Simmons.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Simmons said, then went back to throwing up in the toilet.

Simmons complained and groaned for the rest of the night, to the point where even Grif felt bad and had to cradle the guy like a fucking baby so he could get some quiet. Falling asleep was hard due to Simmons tossing and turning, but if there was anything he learned from his college years, it was how to fall asleep literally anywhere.

The next morning, Grif let Pineapple out and even threw a ball around for a few minutes. It was a mutually beneficial system: Pineapple got to run like crazy in the little community garden the apartment provided, and Grif got to sit back and smoke his cigarettes under the guise of being a good dog owner.

They came back inside and Grif got started on making breakfast just as Simmons crawled out of their bedroom. “Crawled” being quite literal, because the man did not look good. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was messier than usual. He held the blanket around him like a shield from the outside world, and even his response to Pineapple’s licks and whines was more subdued than usual.

“Dude, you look shit,” Grif said. He frowned when Simmons shrugged. “You’re not thinking of going into work like that, are you?”

“Sarge would kick my ass if I didn’t.”

Grif rolled his eyes. “Fuck that guy.” Simmons’ boss sucked, alright, Grif knew from experience. Not only did this dude use Simmons’ authority problems to his full advantage, keeping Simmons at work well past his work hours and away from Grif, but the dude was straight up insane. Simmons had once dragged him to an office party: it was the lamest, most boring thing he’d ever experienced, and Sarge had stared at him like he was corrupting Simmons or some bullshit. Grif was pretty sure he escaped three assassination attempts that night alone.

“No way you’re going to do work,” he continued. “You’ll be pressing all the wrong buttons on the computers or whatever it is you do.”

“IT support,” Simmons reminded him for the millionth time. His face was buried deep in Pineapple’s chest and he looked like he was about to take a nap there. “It’s mostly just asking people if they’ve tried turning it off and on again. The answer is usually no.”

“So don’t show up.” Grif placed breakfast on the table – an entire two store-bought burgers, because they weren’t rich and Pineapple had leeched their latest pay checks, the bastard – and all but pushed Simmons towards the table. “Teach them a lesson about common sense. Maybe it’ll help you in the long run.”

Simmons snorted but shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I can just use this as an excuse to run to the bathroom whenever someone starts being particularly annoying.”

The day passed uneventfully. Grif worked at a mechanics shop with this weird Lopez guy as his boss – dude was Spanish and hadn’t bothered to learn English despite living in America for a couple of years now. Grif just interpreted his orders by how hard Lopez glared at him whenever he did something. The work was easy and the pay decent, and when he came home Junior was teaching Pineapple some more tricks.

He fed the kid before sending him home, then waited until Simmons ended work and they went to sleep. Simmons didn’t look any better – worse, if anything, going by his glassy eyes and knotted hair – and against Grif struggled to fall asleep with his tossing and turning.

The next morning, though, Simmons had woken up before him – and was already sitting at the kitchen table, glaring at him as he walked out of their bedroom.

“Um.” Grif blinked. “Good morning?”

Simmons only hummed. Grif shrugged and moved to start breakfast, and when he turned around Simmons was still glaring at him.

“Okay, dude, what’s with the trying-to-set-me-on-fire-by-eye-contact thing? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“Did you?” Simmons scoffed. “I can’t believe you don’t even remember it.”

“Bro, I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“You didn’t wake up at all last night!” He finally cried out, and Grif frowned. “Or the night before! I kept waking up every five minutes to go to the toilet or get a drink, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“What can I say, man. I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“Oh, no, no, no, you are not.” Simmons pointed a finger. “You didn’t get up for me, but you know who you did get up for? Pineapple.”

Grif blinked. He looked down to where Pineapple sat at his feet, staring at the plate in his hand with hopeful and wide eyes. He instinctively shoved the dog away, then processed Simmons’ words. “Wait, what?”

“I was groaning and moving, and you didn’t even open an eye. But Pineapple makes one little huffing noise, and it’s like your eyes popped open and you jumped out of the bed to let him out. You don’t even remember doing it, do you? You’ve been letting him out at night ever since we got him.”

Grif blinked. Again. “I have?”

“Yes.” Simmons rolled his eyes. “You should enter the competition for the Shittiest Boyfriend or something, you’d get first place for sure.”

At that, Grif scowled. “Jesus, man, I can’t help what I do in my sleep. Sorry I didn’t wake up every time you went to blow chunks in the bathroom, but just get over it, would you?”

“I just think it’s ridiculous you do this and still pretend you can’t stand the dog! You know what, the next time you’re sick I’m not getting up for you even once!”

“Good, not like I’d even want you there!”

The rest of the morning passed in tense silence and mutters.

Even though Grif was doing the exact same work as yesterday, the day seemed to crawl infinitely slower. Lopez got on his nerves more than usual, he accidentally broke one of his tools, and a client that tried to shortchange him got the ugly side of his temper because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When he came home, the house was as empty as it had been the day before – yet it felt worse, somehow. It wasn’t the first time he and Simmons had fought, far from it; Doc had tried to bully them into couples’ counselling even before they were a couple, but that was just how they were. They were Grif and Simmons, they bickered and argued. If they weren’t at each other’s throats all hours of the day, there was something wrong in the universe.

This time was different, though, and Grif sulked into a beer bottle as he tried to ignore the thought.

Usually, he couldn’t wait for Simmons to come home so they could watch whatever new sci-fi flick came out that week, or re-watch an old classic just to tear it to shreds. He’d stuff his face with food or take a nap to make the time go faster (and simply because it was the best way to live life; he couldn’t understand people like Donut, who did yoga stretches at seven in the morning, or freaks like Tucker, who played basketball and football for fun. They were fucking unnatural, he swore), but now all he could do was idly watch some boring TV show and curse his high alcohol tolerance for not letting him get shitfaced faster.

At one point, something wet pushed at his wrist and a whine sounded from under him. Grif looked down to see Pineapple sitting on the sofa, staring at him with large, black eyes. He frowned. “Fuck off, Pineapple,” he said, giving the dog a gentle push and turning back to the TV. The boring host said some boring shit and something boring happened. Jesus Christ, what the hell was he even watching?

As he turned to switch over the channel, Pineapple pushed at his wrist again, then tugged at his shirtsleeve and pulled.

Grif squawked and stared. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Pineapple tugged again with a whine, then jumped off the couch and began pulling at his pant legs.

“Pineapple, fuck off!” Grif tried to fend off the dog a few more times but, once it was clear the mutt wouldn’t quit, he scowled and got up to grab the leash. He’d seen Pineapple like this a few times – energetic, restless, like the time Tucker took Junior to a wedding and the kid had to sit in his seat silently while bursting to play some Pokémon game on his DS – and it usually meant the dog wouldn’t settle for anything less than a walk.

Grif huffed and groaned as he walked out of the apartment, but his annoyance didn’t work as well on Pineapple as it did on Simmons – Simmons would get annoyed enough to send Grif back home or bribe him with something worthwhile, while Pineapple just shit on some grass and patiently waited for Grif to clean up after him, tail wagging all the while.

“You’re more annoying than Caboose,” he told Pineapple.

They walked to a park and took the long way around to avoid all the other dogs. Pineapple wasn’t too aggressive but Grif wasn’t in the mood to deal with other people. He hadn’t thought to bring any toys so they had to make do with a massive stick Pineapple insisted on pulling around the whole park, and Grif snorted as he recorded it with his phone. When he instinctively went to send it to Simmons, he scowled and put his phone away. Pineapple brought the stick to him, and for a moment Grif tried to forget everything else except how to throw a stick.

He remembered doing something like this with their old dog. When Kai had first spotted the small thing, she’d lured it closer with her school lunch and, when Grif came to pick her up from school, he found them playing fetch. When they brought it home they used their bedroom as a dog park, their clothes as toy balls. It chewed a hole in one of Grif’s hats once, so Kai cut another hole big enough for its ears and declared it the dog’s hat. Grif’s ears had been cold for a whole week afterwards, but after the dog went missing it didn’t seem like something to complain about, really.

He thought about it on the way back, as Pineapple ran circles around him and lugged that stick around until he couldn’t fit it through the park gates. His whines honestly made Grif guilty, and he promised the dog – he promised a dog, an animal, what was he fucking turning into – he’d buy him a new toy to make up for it.

When they got home, the smell of hot, salty food wafted through the air. Grif put Pineapple’s collar and leash away and followed the dog as he bounded to the kitchen, where Simmons was filling plates with food. A paper bag on the kitchen counter announced the name of Grif’s favourite Hawaiian restaurant, a place too far away for him to visit regularly even if it made him miss home like nothing else. He could see poke in the small dish he always ordered, and some noodles on the side – the only thing Simmons ever ordered, because he was whiter than paper, but something he in ate in full because he knew how much Grif needed Hawaiian, sometimes, when it felt like he was going to forget the long beaches, the blue skies, the way his hair would curl with the humidity.

Pineapple trotted happily up to Simmons, who froze at the sound of paws. He looked over his shoulder and winced. His face was paler than it had been that morning, and there were purple bags under his eyes. “Shit,” he said. “I thought you’d still be out.”

Grif shrugged instead of replying, still feeling a weird air between them. When he went to reach for his poke, Simmons slapped his hand away and he glared. “Not yet,” Simmons said, putting the last of the dishes away. “I’m about to put the X-Files on.”

Grif paused. “You hate the X-Files.”

Simmons shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I hate it.”

“You bitch about the science every time I watch it.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“You wouldn’t shut up about its lame ending for a week after we finished it—”

“Grif,” Simmons said loudly, then handed him the food and gestured to the couch. “Do you want to watch it or not?”

Grif watched him carefully for a moment, then nodded. He took his poke and Simmons’ noodles, made room for Pineapple on the couch and fished the X-Files out from their disc hoard. Simmons joined him a few minutes later, and for the first few episodes it was silent. Then Grif snorted at one of the jokes. Simmons rolled his eyes at some sketchy science. They both yelled the tenth time Scully brushed aside obvious evidence. By the end of the first season, they were laughing and bickering like normal.

Between them, Pineapple lay across their laps and whined for the food. Neither gave him any – Simmons had read a bunch of shit about how human food was bad for dogs, Grif had no ideas of giving up any of his hard-earned food – but it didn’t stop him from crying and pleading, and by the end of the night they had laughed themselves hoarse trying to figure out which alien looked most like Pineapple.

They fell asleep on the couch. When Grif woke up, the sky was in the early stages of twilight and the DVD was stuck on its loading screen. Their bowls of food on the table were suspiciously spotless, and when Grif looked around, sure enough, he could see Pineapple napping with food around his muzzle. He snorted and elbowed Simmons, who had fallen onto him, nose buried in Grif’s neck.

“C’mon, move, kissass,” Grif grumbled, his voice gruff with sleep. Simmons only whined and pressed himself closer. “You’re gonna have a bad neck tomorrow, and then what’ll Sarge say?”

“No work,” Simmons yawned. “Sent me home when I almost threw up. Jackass,” Simmons grumbled, and Grif snorted at the thought that Simmons was probably the only person who complained about being let off work.

He poked Simmons until he got up reluctantly, then had to practically carry the man to their bedroom. When he dumped him on their bed, Simmons reached out with a sleepy hand to squeeze Grif’s hand – and missed, instead just pressing a finger against Grif’s nose. “Best boyfriend ever,” he mumbled into his pillow, then fell asleep.

Grif watched him for a moment. He wouldn’t get an apology, he knew it – they didn’t do things that way. They didn’t talk about their issues, their problems. Grif had been in love with Simmons for five years now and he was yet to say it. He wasn’t sure if he ever would, and he knew it was the same for Simmons – and that was enough. They knew. They didn’t have to tell each other things. Simmons might not have apologised for being a dick but he’d gone to Grif’s favourite Hawaii place, he sat through the X-Files even though he hated it.

Grif switched off the lights and crawled under the covers. Pineapple lay across their laps here, too. Grif found he didn’t mind much.

The park wasn’t super busy, which wasn’t surprising considering Simmons had calculated the exact time it would be most empty. Sometimes Grif didn’t feel like dealing with people, sometimes Simmons’ anxiety meds didn’t do the job – either way, Simmons’ nerdy-ass charts came in handy from time to time.

Pineapple ran around like the maniac he was, sniffing one corner of the park before moving onto the other, walking up to any passing humans who had something smelling like food in their hands. Grif idly considered the logistics behind training him to steal food to bring back to Grif, then put a mental pin in that thought for later, sighing as he leant against the tree at his back. It itched at him slightly but it was the only place which offered shelter from the sun. Not that it was hot, these Americans wouldn’t know what hot was if it bit them in their ass, but even Grif had to admit he was sweating. Simmons, lain across his lap with a pair of sunglasses, was worse off, yet he kept his complaints to a minimum as he threw Pineapple his ball every other minute.

The scene could almost be called peaceful – if Simmons wasn’t shrieking like he was.

“I’m not shrieking, fatass,” Simmons bit out, raising a hand to hit Grif’s chest. “You just can’t admit you’re wrong.”

“Uhh, because I’m not.” Grif shook his head. “You’re the one in denial, here, Simmons. Everything points to it – late ‘90s blockbusters, early ‘00s comic books, I’m telling you: robot. Apocalypse.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“It’s inevitable!” Grif threw his hands up. “Aren’t you the geeky, nerdy guy here? You’d think you would be the first in line to bow to our robot overlords!”

“First off, geeks and nerds are two different things—”

“I swear to God Simmons, if you try to explain them one more time—”

“And second, it’s just a mathematical impossibility! They’re computers, Grif, not humans! They can’t think or feel, they can’t make their own decisions!”

Grif leaned in closer. “Until they can.”

Simmons groaned. “God, you’re a dumbass.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never even seen the Terminator, Simmons.” He put a hand to his chest and, in a choked voice, asked, “does the word Skynet mean nothing to you?”

“But that’s just not realistic!” Simmons burst out. “Do you know what would happen the minute Skynet started acting all weird? We’d turn it off. There you go, fuckface, the solution to your biggest problem: the off button.”

“What if it stopped you from turning it off?”

“It can’t! It’s a computer! It only follows instructions!” Simmons buried his face in his arms. “Remind me why I’m dating you again?”

Grif shrugged, snagged an Oreo from his pocket, and didn’t bother closing his mouth as he said, “I have a pretty cool dog.”

Simmons snorted and looked up just in time to see Pineapple bounding toward them. The dog brought back his ball and wrestled with Simmons for a moment before waiting for it to be thrown, sticking his tail high in the air, tongue lolling out all the while.

When Simmons sat back against the tree, he huddled himself under Grif’s arm. “Yeah, he’s okay.” Pineapple brough the ball back and lay on his back, demanding belly scratches. “Pretty needy, though. Kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Really?” Grif quirked a brow. “This coming from the guy who got jealous because I called Tucker my best friend?”

“I thought I was your best friend!” Simmons cried in defence, his face already growing red. Grif smirked at the sight. “I didn’t know we were dating yet!”

“That’s just sad, Simmons. Real sad.”

“Oh, whatever.” Simmons threw the ball and leaned back again, huffing loudly. “I hope when Skynet takes over the world, it goes for you first.”

“Eh, like that’d ever happen.”

“What!” Simmons jumped up and glared the glariest of glares to ever glare. “But you just said—”

“Please, Simmons,” Grif said, “be a little realistic.”

“We did not just spend ten minutes arguing about robot apocalypses for you to pretend like you were winning the whole time!”

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“God, I hate you.”

The next time Pineapple came up to give up the ball, Grif threw it. He pulled out his phone to take a picture of Pineapple’s flailing tail, smirking as he sent it to Kai with a kid’s chasing tail message. When he looked up, Simmons was looking at him with a gooey, disgustingly soft expression. It was in the eyes, mostly. Ugh, Grif can’t believe he knew Simmons enough well to say that.

“What?” he asked, puffing up defensively like a cat.

Simmons shrugged and closed his eyes, basking in the sun. Who was like a cat now, huh? “Nothing. I’m just glad I’m right.”

“Hey, we already established that I won that argument.”

“Not that.” Simmons peeked one eye open. “I told you you’d love that dog soon enough.”

Grif blinked, looking warily at his phone. He put it away slowly. “Love is a strong word,” he said, trying his best to ignore Pineapple the next time the dog came back, but the mutt started whining and crying and it was easier just to give in, it really was. When he looked back from the throw, Simmons was smirking. “Seriously. I tolerate that dog at, like, best. Love’s pushing it.”

“Tell that to the pineapple-print collar I saw in our Amazon wishlist.”

“That was Kai.”

Simmons closed his eyes again. “Sure thing, Grif.”

“No, honestly. She made me add it. Added weed ones, too.”

He frowned. “We are not giving our dog a weed collar.”

“Not even on 4/20?”

Simmons pursed his lips. “Hmm. Maybe. So long as Junior doesn’t see it.”

Grif snorted. “Like that kid isn’t already corrupted by having Tucker as a dad.”

“Well, I at least don’t want to add to the damage.” He tapped Grif’s stomach. “Now come on, get back here. You’re a better pillow than the tree is and I haven’t finished telling you why you’re a dumbass about the robot thing.”

“Jeez, bossy,” Grif said as he followed the instructions, waiting as Simmons settled himself on his chest. “Besides, I already told you I was secretly agreeing at the same time.”

“No, no, fuck off.” Simmons waved an arm. “I had a really good point to make, so shut the fuck up. What was it—oh, right! The singularity is such a dumbass idea, it’s seriously ridiculous. It’s more fantasy than sci-fi, I swear, you only need to look at…”

As Simmons rambled on and on, Pineapple brought his ball up again. Grif put the toy to the side and patted the flattened grass beside them. Pinepple sniffed it for a moment, then lay down, putting his chin on Grif’s thigh. Grif smiled, then hid that smile in Simmons’ temple.

When Grif was a kid, he and Kai had brought home a dog. He was a small thing, one of his eyes missing, but he and Kai had loved him hard and without fail.

Twenty years later, his boyfriend brought home a dog without asking. And although the dog was much larger, and had both of his eyes, he still loved him just as hard.