Yall said you like long so, here ya go. 

Scott wakes to a throbbing pain in his head, one that shakes his skull and leaves him feeling queasy. He can't stand just yet, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head down so that he can breath, anything to get the room to stop spinning around him.

It's the last time he ever drinks with Jake...ever. At least until next weekend, since who is he kidding here. He said the same thing last weekend and here he is with a hangover from hell.

"Fuck," Scott groans, rubbing at his tired eyes as he stumbles towards the bathroom. He splashes his face with cool water and tells himself that it's really not that bad. He's just being over dramatic and he knows it, but it helps the hangover.

The important thing now is that Scott lives alone, completely alone. There isn't even a plant inside his apartment. It's just him.. And maybe some spider lurking somewhere, trying to challenge his authority and take over the place. He'll deal with that later. Right now though, he has to deal with the giant lump on his couch.

It's too small to be Jake. Besides, he can..well he thinks he can..remember them saying bye to each other outside of the bar and then going their separate ways, Jake climbing into a car as he walked home, hoping to sober him up a bit. But he doesn't remember bringing anything, or anyone, back with him.

The lump on the couch is covered in blankets that begin to shift around, wiggling almost as whatever is underneath tries to find a way out. When it does, Scott blinks, once and then twice, just to be sure that he's seeing correctly.

He has to rub his eyes this time, because there's a dog, a puppy actually, staring at him from across the room, mouth open in a happy grin as he pants. At least, with blurry eyes Scott assumes it's a dog.

Brown fur, almost greenish eyes, four paws, two floppy ears, and a wagging tail. Yeah, definitely a dog.

"Right... and you are?" Scott asks the dog, rolling his eyes when he realizes that he's talking to a damn dog and the thing isn't going to reply to him. Eh, who cares. "How did you get in here?"

The puppy whines, jumping up and staring down at the floor like he's scared to jump off the couch. His body rocks back and forth, as he lowers himself before bouncing back up just to yap at Scott, demanding that he be put on the ground. Luckily for him, Scott speaks dog.

"If you can't get yourself down, then you shouldn't get up here," Scott sternly says, holding him.. No her, up in the air to look at her face, staring into her sickeningly sweet eyes. "You're cute, you know that?"

He tucks the puppy under his arm and moves to the kitchen. There's a bag of dog food propped against the fridge, which is odd, because Scott's never bought a bag of dog food once in his life.

"Did that come with you?"

The puppy replies by licking his face, wet tongue slobbering all over his cheek. It's stupidly endearing, because she has puppy breath and smells like dandelions and everything food in the world. He presses his face to her neck, breathing her in for a second before he sets her on the ground.

"Let's get you some water," he mumbles, quickly grabbing a bowl and filling it up for her. The puppy hops around on the floor, her butt in the air as she dives to attack the rug he keeps in front of the sink, growling as she nips on the edges, shaking her head around like she's trying to kill it. "Here you go girl," Scott laughs, setting the bowl down next to her.

There's an annoying vibrating sound coming from... Scott looks around, trying to find the source of the noise as the puppy shoves her face in the bowl, lapping up the water quickly. His phone is sitting on the edge of the table, dangling precariously over the edge, and when he hits the button to light the screen up, he can see why. His screen is filled with missed calls from Kirstie, along with a bunch of messages that he quickly unlocks, reading the first few that pop up.

ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!

Scott you can't do something like that!

Don't even think about calling me if you get arrested.

I don't know anything, got it?

SCOTT

Call me if you're actually getting arrested okay? Stealing is kind of a bad thing.

Scott blinks at the messages in confusion, frowning, because what the hell is Kirstie talking about? Getting arrested? Stealing? What the hell would he even steal in the first place?

He quickly types out a 'not in jail' to stop Kirstie from worrying. His battery lasts just long enough to let him know that the messages sent before it dies, preventing him from knowing if Kirstie is going to reply.

It's probably for the best anyways. Scott's head is killing him and he doesn't want to deal with false accusations of stealing and Kirstie going mom on him. Honestly, what the actual fuck is Kirstie thinking, trying to say that he stole a dog?

Wait.

Kirstie didn't mention what Scott stole, just that he did.

Oh.

Tiny teeth bite into his ankle, chewing like they just found the greatest toy in the world, a sharp confirmation that he did, in fact, steal a dog last night. Right. That would indeed explain why he had a dog on his couch this morning.

"Damn, did I steal the food too?" Scott asks, biting his lip as he tries to find some memory in his mind of stealing someone's dog and a bag of dog food. The puppy stares up at him, whining as she paws at his leg.

-------

Scott makes breakfast and brings the puppy outside, sitting in his chair and watching as she runs around outside. He eats his breakfast as the puppy explores, carefully chewing on his eggs as he tries to remember the events of last night. It's a bit hazy, as it always is after a night with Jake and tequila, but there are faint traces, just teeny tiny little memories of what happened.

He remembers going out, obviously. He can remember the name of the bar they went to, Flaming Saddles, where it is, and how he got there. Jake had met him there, two drinks in and encouraging Scott to catch up.

They drank inside, played a game of darts, danced a lot with a group of guys that Jake had been eyeing all night. Then things start to get fuzzy after the multiple tequila shots...

He walked home, which is probably when it happened. So somewhere between Flaming Saddles and his apartment he.. If he's being blunt about it, stole a dog. A puppy. A tiny brown thing that's chasing after a small white butterfly, trying to catch it before it flies away.

But that's all he can remember. He drank too much and stole a dog.

Well, he doesn't actually remember stealing the dog. And unless there's video footage of him doing it, which there could be, then no one can actually point him to the crime. So, as far as he's concerned, he's innocent. And as far as anyone else is concerned, the cute puppy running towards him, tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, belongs to him.

Scott grins to himself, letting a hand fall down for the puppy to lick when she reaches him, because he kind of likes the sound of this dog being his.

-------

"Alright pretty lady, follow me," Scott calls over his shoulder, patting his thigh. He hears nails clicking against the hardwood as the puppy rushes after him. "I'm hungover and tired. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it means that we have to relax today. So, we're gonna find something to watch on TV. What do you like?"

With a grunt, Scott scoops the puppy off the floor and plops down on the couch, stretching out and placing her on his chest. She's already chewing on his fingers and the end of the remote in Scott's hand.

"You gotta let me have this for a second, then you can eat it... just don't chew any buttons off."

There's nothing on, not like there would be on a Sunday afternoon, there never is. Still, he keeps flipping through each channel, carefully watching the dog's face to see if he'll stumble upon something she likes. Finally, she bites on his finger, startling him.

"Okay, what's on? Oh, Bambi. This is a pretty good one," he says, kicking his legs around so that he can maneuver the blanket over them, the soft one his mom gave him.

He scratches behind her ears as he watches, gently petting her as her eyes slowly begin to blink. She doesn't sleep, but she does lay down, staring contently at the screen.

"You like Bambi?" Scott asks, feeling himself grow tired. "Should call you that, shouldn't I? Lille Bambi. Pretty girl Bambi."

-------

Someone is pounding on Scott's door, causing him to wake up from his nap with a start. The puppy, now Bambi, is barking wildly, standing on his chest, trying to scare whoever is behind the door.

Scott's head starting pounding to the rhythm of the knocks, annoying him as he stands, carefully wrapping Bambi in the blanket and carrying her towards the door.

Just as quickly as the door is opening, does Kirstie fall inside, slamming it shut and moving to peek out of the window.

"I don't think anyone followed me," Kirstie mumbles, head pressed against the glass.

"Okay..." Scott replies, brows furrowing together as he watches his friend make a fool of herself. "That's great, I guess. Was someone supposed to follow you here?"

"I don't know, Scott," Kirstie sighs, finally turning to look at him. "Oh god, you've still got the dog."

"You knew that I took her?"

"Of course I did, you called me when you did it."

"What'd I say?"

Kirstie rolled her eyes, shoving her hanad into her bag and blindly handing Scott her phone. "The voicemail is still on there. I figured there was no point in deleting it if the police showed up for me."

This time Scott rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Kirstie doesn't know what she's saying half the time, no one is going to come looking for him.

Bambi is wiggling around in his arms, trying to escape from the blanket hold so that she can get to Kirstie. It's not a bad idea actually, letting the puppy take care of Kirstie while he listens to the damage of the situation.

"Here, you hold on to Bambi," Scott says, passing the puppy over. She immediately begins licking Kirstie's face, nibbling on her cheek and trying to crawl up her chest.

"You found out her name?"

"No, I named her myself. It's cute, right?"

"Scott, you can't name a dog that you-"

"Shh," Scott interrupts, waving at Kirstie as the voicemail begins to play, his own voice playing in his ear.

' Kirstie, Kirstie, it's me.' his voice is quiet, low and slightly slurred, like he's trying to hide it from someone. 'I found something. It's in the bushes. There's a thing in the bushes. I think it's someone following me. I'm being-

I found it, Kirstie. Oh, it's a puppy. Kistie. A little puppy and he has puppy eyes and oh wow, yeah. I'm gonna take him, Kirstie. Oh, he's coming home with me, come on little puppy. Come with your new daddy. Oh he's so happy, Kirstie. I found him lost. I- he was following me around his yard because I heard him through the fence so I-

Oh yeah, one of the slots was loose so I helped him out. He's mine now, Kirstie. My new little puppy pup. Say hi to Kirstie puppy. Ha, did you hear him? Too good. Okay Kirstie, next time, don't be a party pooper, come out and get puppies with us. I mean drunk. Oh god, I can't believe I bought a puppy.'

Scott blinks as he pulls the phone away from his ear, embarrassment creeping up his spine quickly, and he must look like a tomato with how warm he feels from the heat of his shame.

"You have to delete that," he says, passing the phone back to Kirstie. "I don't want... no. No one needs to ever hear that."

It's the most embarrassing voicemail that he's ever left. He's left a few in his day that he's not proud of, but that? That needs to be destroyed immediately.

When he eventually gains his pride back again, minutes later because it was so, so bad, he asks Kirstie, "So I called you as I was taking the dog?"

"I would assume so, since you know, you said you were taking him-"

"Her."

"Her home," Kirstie finishes, raising an eyebrow at Scott as she sets an impatient Bambi down on the ground. "I can't believe you took someone's dog."

Scott shrugs. "Do you have any idea whose dog this is?"

"No clue. Not a single one. If I knew, I would have called them already to ask them not to call the cops on you."

"Kirstie, people don't call the cops over missing dogs. They put up those stupid posters on every telephone pole and stop light around town. They don't call the police," he says, watching as Bambi tries to untie Kirstie's shoes. "They might call local animal shelters, though."

"Maybe you should take her there, so her owner will know that she's okay."

"Kirsite are you kidding me? That's like dropping a baby off at an orphanage. You wouldn't do that."

"Scott," Kirstie snaps, eyes wide. "That's what you do. You take the baby to the proper authorities, you don't keep a child that doesn't belong to you. You don't steal one either, that's called kidnaping and I think that's a felony."

"Well," Scott mutters, nodding, because he knows that. Obviously he knows that. He's not an idiot and he would never take someone's baby. He doesn't even want a baby. A dog on the other hand... he shakes hi head, running his fingers through his hair. "This isn't a baby, is it? It's a dog, so your rules are stupid."

"You taking a dog is stupid."

"I was drunk!"

"Please, like that'll hold up in court," Kirstie snorts, folding her arms over her chest. "You're a felon and I don't want you to come crawling to me when this all blows up in your face."

-------

Kirstie's wrong, ya know," Scott says, sitting down carefully on the ground and hooking the leash he bought onto her collar. "There's no way that this is going to blow up in my face," he nods to himself, satisfied when Bambi blinks up at him.

It's been a few days since he first brought her home, with no words from anyone about a missing dog or from the police beating down his door. Not like they would, but according to Kirstie they might. There hasn't even been any whispers about a local drunk stealing from the neighbors, and believe him, Scott has been on high alert since he can't be too certain that someone didn't catch him that night.

"Okay, Leash on you, clothes on me/ I just need to grab my keys and my wallet and then we're set to go," Scott informs Bambi, shoving his wallet into one pocket and his keys into another. "Do you need anything else for the park?"

Bambi whines a bit, chewing on her leash in response. Scott takes that as confirmation that she's tired of waiting on him, so with a sigh, he swings the door open and leads her outside.

As he walks through the town, he kind of expects someone to dive out of a bush somewhere and scream and shout that Bambi is their dog and they want her back. Then maybe, if this were to play out like Kirstie's nightmares, they'd beat Scott with a stick or something, maybe a purse. But it doesn't happen.

Scott weaves through the streets easily, smiling at people who tell him he has a cute dog, and trying his best not to drag Bambi down the street when she stops to sniff every single inch of dirt that she can. When they pass buildings, Bambi runs to the doors like she's home, but they're not walking in the direction of the bar, so Scott just assumes she's tired of walking.

"Already a diva, huh?" He says, scooping her off the ground to carry her. "We're about three blocks from the park, I'll carry you until we get there and then I'll be you'll want to run around and play."

As they turn the corner, Scott spots a white piece of paper taped to the window of one of his favorite Deli's, one that makes his stop drop.

                                                               LOST DOG

                                              Female chocolate puppy

                                                 Last seen on Saturday

                                                 Goes by the name CoCo

                                               If found, please call Mitch

There's a number listed, along with a picture of a pretty brown puppy face. Scott stares at the picture, then at Bambi and tries to compare them. Sure, there's a flew similarities.

Like the greenish colored eyes, the brown fur ( a given on any chocolate lab so that's not saying much), the floppy ears and the cute saggy cheeks. But besides that...well, Scott doesn't see it. Whoever Mitch is, he's looking for another dog, Clearly.

"I don't think you look like a Coco. That's not your name, right? You're not Coco, are you?"

Bambi's nose twitches, her tongue coming out to lick SCott's face, tiny teeth digging into his cheeks. Even the dog knows that she's not Coco, so Scott ignores the sign and goes about his business, wishing Mitch and his puppy friend the best.

Inside the park, there's a small pond, one that's mostly used for fishing and throwing rocks in, Scott's not sure nor does he really care. He's not going to actually use it for anything other than something nice to look at.

He finds a clear area, right by a group of ducks and decides to sit down. He sets Bambi on the ground and watches as she stares down the ducks, barking occasionally and scaring some of them off.

It's a warm afternoon, the park filled with sounds of animals and people, children laughing in the distance and other dogs barking. Scott likes it, likes resting in the grass and watching as his dog, he can call her his, bounce around, trying to break free of her leash to chase the ducks in the pond.

She's happy. Scott likes knowing he made her happy.

Bambi eventually manages to break free from her leash, diving into the pond to get the ducks. She doesn't make it far, going until the water reaches her stomach and stopping, yapping away at the ducks that are swimming away from her.

Scott tries to be mad at her, but as he's yelling at her, she smiles at him, mouth hung open and tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. He can't be angry. Not at her. Not at his little Bambi girl.

Really, he shouldn't be getting so attached to a dog that he stole. Or, if he wants to look at this situation differently, a dog that an owner neglected to take away from Scott when he drunkenly broke (or maybe it was broken before he got there) their fence to get the dog.

So yeah, obviously and totally not all Scott's fault. Someone else is to blame as well, he's not going to take the full heat for this situation.

On their way home, they pass another lost dog poster from the Mitch guy, and Scott hopes that he's treated his dog better than Bambi's owner treated her, letting her get stolen and everything, must not have liked her very much, Scott thinks.

-------

Scott leaves the light one when he leaves for work that evening, feeling bad for having to leave Bambi at home by herself. He needs the money though and figured that she's old enough that staying home alone for a couple hours won't be too bad and that maybe his apartment will still be in decent shape when he gets home.

It's not that long of a walk to work, just heading to the park where he took Bambi earlier, where he works at an outdoor cafe. Serving isn't his favorite job, but when the snotty rich people come to eat, the tips are excellent, so he tries not to complain too much.

He feels even more guilty the further away from home he gets, a sinking feeling settling deep in his chest, dragging him down like lead and making him wonder if he should've called out. The idea is just ridiculous though, he needs to work and can't put his life on hold for a dog that, technically, isn't even his.

The way he sees it, he's proving Kirstie wrong. He's not sure in what way exactly, but he's doing it.

Standing on the corner with a frown on his face, is a boy handing out papers to people. He looks lost and a bit frantic, begging people to please take a paper from him.

Scott eyes his wearily, wondering how he should walk past this guy and if the boy is a danger when their eyes meet. The short haired boy stepping forward and holding out a paper for Scott.

"Have you seen this dog?" He asks and Scott stares down at the paper, the same one he saw earlier. So this must be Mitch, he thinks, still staring down at the bright eyed puppy on the flyer.

"Uh...I don't think so," Scott lies, kind of. There's no solid proof that the dog he has is connected to this boy and his dog.

Mitch sighs, and it's almost painful to listen to, like he's on the verge of crying, desperate and sad. "Right," he mumbles, swallowing back any emotion that Scott thought he saw on his face before. "Do you think you could take one of these.. I don't know, just so you can have something to remember her by? And my number, so if you see you can reach me? Maybe you can show your friends?"

"Yeah, sure," Scott replies, smiling as he accepts the paper. "I'm sorry that you lost your dog."

"It's okay," Mitch tries to smile, but the corners of his mouth mostly just twitch before dropping back down, everything about him just looks pitiful. "Just please don't throw it away."

"No, I won't."

"Okay, thanks. I just... I really want to get Coco back."

"Coco," Scott repeats, trying to keep the look of distaste off of his face. "If that like, chocolate?"

"No, like Chanel."

"Right," So Mitch has no idea how to name a dog, whatever. "I've gotta get going, but I'll be sure to keep an eye out for your dog," Scott assures him, smiling before he rushes off down the street, not wanting to be late for work because some guy with coffee brown eyes is making him feel things. Things like guilt and regret and a little bit of lust, if he's being honest.

"Thanks," Mitch calls after him, voice loud and clear in the busy street.

-------

Work did two things for Scott tonight. First is that it made him money that he needed to use to pay for his electric bill. And second, well... it made him feel like a guilty asshole because, shockingly, maybe he was wrong about Bambi not belonging to Mitch. Maybe she really is his after all, and maybe Scott was wrong to think anything different. Of course, if Bambi really is his, maybe Scott should save her from him.

He named her Coco for crying out loud. Not even for chocolate either, which would have just been stupidly clever and ironic in all the wrong ways, but no, it was for Chanel. Mitch could've even called her Chanel, but instead he had to be even more stupidly ironic by calling a chocolate lab puppy Coco, after a designer and no chocolate.

Scott groans at the thought, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair. He's not supposed to be a dick about this. It's not his dog, it's just not, no matter how many times he steals her. She''s not his... unless he got her a collar with her name on it that said his address so that-

No.

He really needed to be stopped. And who better to stop him than the suspected real owner of Bambi, Mitch.

He's still standing on the corner he was at when Scott left him, begging people to stop and look at the dog picture in his hand. His hands practically shake as he holds the papers out, his voice breaking and taking on a hysterical and desperate note.

Scott frowns at him, taking pity on the other boy as he approaches him cautiously.

"Um...Mitch," Scott mumbles, reaching out slowly to rest his hand on Mitch's shoulder, the boy turning towards him. "Are you alright?"

Mitch blinks, his eyes coming to focus on Scott. "No," he answers, shaking his head.

"Right, I can kind of see that. Do you want to... I don't know, come get some coffee with me? Probably decaf for you."

"No," Mitch mutters, shaking his head quickly. "I need to pass these out. I can't, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but I've been at work for five hours and you're still here. So you've been here at least that long, maybe it's time for a little break."

"I can't."

"You can. I'm sure you've got a lot of these flyers out already, come on. You can hold on to the ones you have and pass them out as we walk. You should eat some food."

Mitch blinks up at him so Scott smiles, trying his best to look reassuring. He doesn't really know why he's asking him out for coffee, other than he knows it can't be healthy for Mitch to be standing out here without eating or drinking anything.

It takes a moment, but eventually Mitch nods, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as his head bobs up and down. He lets out a big sigh as Scott nods in the direction they'll walk in.

-------

The diner they're at is small, with the black and white checkered floors and red booths. The kind of place with pies and cookies in glass containers on the counter and people sit down and talk next to them on the bar stools. Scott avoids those and drags Mitch toward a booth in the corner, near some of the others hidden by a wall to separate them from the main area.

Mitch's hands stop shaking after the first cup of coffee, his shoulders much more relaxed than before and Scott thinks that's pretty good. He's still frowning, but it's coffee, not a miracle.

"I'm sorry," Mitch whispers after the waitress refills his mug, his eyes still staring down at his coffee, frown still on his face.

"For what?" Scott asks, frowning in return out fo confusion. "You didn't do anything. Why are you sorry?"

"I freaked out, didn't I?"

"Oh. Well, uh... ya know," Scott coughs, scratching the back of his neck. "It wasn't-"

Mitch laughs, finally smiling at Scott when their eyes meet. "You don't have to lie about it, I know how I was acting."

"Yeah, alright. Even so, it's not really your fault. Shit happens."

"I guess so."

"If I had a dog and it went missing, I'd feel pretty panicked, so don't worry about it, Mitch. Really."

"I just feel awful about it," Mitch sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. "She's only a puppy and.. What if she's hurt or scared?"

Scott nods a few times, taking a careful sip of his coffee. "How did she go missing?" He asks, because it's a fair question, and he wants to know if he should start freaking out or not. "Did she get away from you or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Mitch replies. "Well, not really. We weren't out or anything. I live a little ways down the street and she was whining in the middle of the night, so I let her out in the backyard. But my porch light went out, so I had to go inside and grab a flashlight so I could see her. I don't know... I left the door open incase she got done before me." Mitch shakes his head as he recalls what happens, frown showing up once more and Scott was holding his breath, waiting. "When I came out, she wasn't there. I tried finding her but... part of the fence was broken. I didn't think she'd be able to break it. It's all my fault, I should have fixed it earlier."

Scott chokes on his coffee as Mitch finishes, continuing his rant about how if he would have just gotten his fence fixed everything would be fine and Coco would be home and safe. Scott definitely stole Mitch's dog. And he definitely broke the fence further so that he could get the dog he wanted to steal.

"Are you okay?" Mitch asks, eyes wide as he passes Scott a napkin.

Scott nods, unable to get words out as he coughs.

"...Are you sure?"

"Yeah...just swallowed wrong," he lies, grimacing at Mitch.

Mitch stares at him a moment, as if studying him carefully, before he talks again about his dog. Scott doesn't say anything, just listens as Mitch rambles on and on about how he's already gotten the fence fixed and he's going to make sure no puppy can break out and that he'll find Coco.

Scott doesn't mention the dog currently at his house, the one that he for sure stole from Mitch, the one that's probably curled up on his couch or chewing one of his shoes.

He's not sure why he doesn't mention her. No, he does, because he's a horrible person. Absolutely horrible.

-------

The first thing Scott does when he gets home after he slams the door shut and locks it, is call Kirstie. Bambi chases after him as he walks through his apartment, Scott pretending like he can't hear the dog barking at him.

"Hel-"

"Kirstie, I fucked up," Scott says, cutting her off.

"Okay... so what happened?"

So Scott tells her about Mitch, how he saw the poster at the park today but just ignored it because he didn't think Bambi was the dog in the picture, but then he actually ran into Mitch today before work, basically crying on the street corner as he passed out more posters and begged people to keep an eye out for his dog. He finishes the story off with them at the diner, how he figured that he definitely stole someone's dog. A pretty someone's dog, to make it all worse, because Mitch is really pretty, with his doe-eyed look and brown eyes and stunning smile.

"I don't know what to do," Scott sighs out, resting his head against the door frame and staring at nothing in particular.

"Scott, you give the dog back," Kirstie says like it's obvious.

"Do I have to?" Scott whines, not the least bit ashamed of himself right now and how he sounds like a giant toddler.

Kirstie scoffs on the other line and Scott imagines the disappointment in her eyes. "If you want a dog so badly you could, I don't know, go get your own. There's more than one dog in the world, do an animal shelter a favor."

"Yeah, well... I like this one."

Kirstie sighs. "Finder's keepers, Scott, and in this case, Mitch found her first."

"But I found her second...and last."

"Technicality. It doesn't count though, nice try."

"Thanks," Scott mumbles, reaching around blindly for a light switch to his room. He finds one and flips it on, blinking down at the puppy on the floor staring up at him, tail wagging wildly against the floor. "Fuck. I have to give her back, don't I?"

"I've only been saying that since the very beginning. But yeah, you need to give her back."

-------

Scott wakes up early the next morning, laying in bed with Bambi draped across his lap. There's a knot in his stomach, because he actually and whole heartedly stole a dog and now he has to give this dog that he's grown attached to back.

It feels like he's seven years old again, with a pocket full of hum as his mom drags him abck into the store to apologize for having taken it in the first place. He remembers the manager being nice about it, staring down at him sadly and reminding him that he can't take things without buying them. His mother hadn't been as nice about it. She didn't yell at him, but he remembers awfully about stealing when they returned home. He felt even worse about it when he had to tell his father what happened.

At least this time he doesn't have to tell his parents, although he's pretty sure Kirstie will rat him out next time they're all together. His mom will probably bop him upside the head, because he's not a child anymore. His dad will probably laugh, since the situation really is ridiculous.

But it's not ridiculous to Mitch. It's emotional and upsetting and awful for Mitch. He misses his dog and he deserves to have her back.

The problem with giving back the dog, besides the fact that Scott will miss her, is that he's not sure how Mitch is going to react to the whole thing.

He's have every right to hate Scott, to yell at him and possibly call the authorities on him, is he were that type of person. Scott doesn't think he is, but then again anyone would be well within their own right to do all that if someone stole their dog.

God, Scott hates that word. Stole. It sounds so malicious, like he had planned to take the dog in the first place, like he wanted to take the dog just so he could see Mitch cry on a street corner. That's not what happened, and he hopes that Mitch will understand.

-------

"It's our last morning together, Bambi," Scott sighs, still refusing to call her Coco. "I've poured you some food so we can eat together. Except you can't actually eat at the table because that..that is crossing a line."

Bambi jumps on his leg, pawing at him, trying to get the bowl out of his hands. He laughs as he sets it down on the ground and she dives into it, sending food flying in all directions across the floor.

"It's a bittersweet breakfast, one that Scott hardly touches, instead opting to watch Bambi eat her own. She chomps away at the food wildly, like Scott hasn't fed her in days. Even though since she's been with him, he's fed her like clockwork, never forgetting to lay a bowl down for her.

Afterwards, he curls up on the couch with Bambi beside him, chewing on the edge of his shirt as she falls asleep, already in need of a nap. He fiddles around with his phone, Mitch's flyer lying on the table in front of him, staring ominously at him.

With a sigh, he dials the number printed on the front,

"Hello?" Comes Mitch's voice, quick and sharp.

"Mitch? Hey, uh... what are you doing right now?"

"Um... who is this?"

"Oh, right, sorry. It's Scott," and because he can't remember if he introduced himself last night, he adds, "We got coffee last night."

"Oh, Scott," Mitch responds happily, making Scott smile. "I was on my way out to tape up more flyers. My friend noticed I've only been paying attention to one area, so I thought I'd put some up north, then maybe head south in the afternoon."

"Mitch," Scott swallows, scratching behind Bambi's ears. "Maybe you don't need to put up flyers."

"What do you mean? Of course I do."

"No, I'm not saying you shouldn't, I'm just saying-"

"Do you want to come with me?"

Scott sits up in his seat, back straightening. "What?" He asks, because he can't be too certain that he's hearing Mitch correctly. He did end up stealing the dog, maybe that's affected his hearing or something.

"I said, do you want to come with me? You could... I don't know, help me not to freak out."

"Uh..." Scott really, really shouldn't. He has the dog here in his lap, he should just tell Mitch that it's a waste of paper and ink and time and emotional pain because he has the actual dog right here in his apartment.

"Please?"

"Okay," Scott tells him and fuck if he's not the dumbest person in the world.

-------

"Do you think because I'm using white paper it's not getting noticed as much?"

Scott stares down at the flyer, shrugging "Why would white paper be a bad thing?"

"I don't know," Mitch mumbles, his shoulders heaving as he sighs. "I just think it's not as attention grabbing. Everyone probably thinks it's something dumb, like a bingo sign or something. Maybe we should reprint them on neon pink or yellow paper. That'll get attention."

"Okay well... maybe we can do that now. We can pack all this up and make new flyers," Scott suggests, the ugly swirl of guilt in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole.

They've been putting up flyers for about an hour now, walking along some random street and taping them up. He's wanted to rip them all down as they go, but it would be hard to do with out Mitch catching him and that's not something he wants to explain, not unless he has the dog and a peace offering in his hands.

"I don't know, we just started," Mitch says biting his lip. "Are you sure we should do that?"

"I think now would be the best time, yeah. It seems better than putting all of these flyers up and then having to make more and circle back around. Why don't we just... recycle these white ones," Scott suggests, and he's sweating. He's actually sweating because he's so nervous, terrified of the fact that he's just a no good person. "I have pink paper at my apartment. I can grab it and swing by your place, if you want."

"Or I could come with you?" Mitch says, brightening up for the first time since Scott suggested they stop for a while. "It could be fun. We could get something to eat too, I'm starving."

Scott blinks, because he's being backed into a corner here, trapped without anywhere to go. But he finds himself nodding anyways, and action that received a bright, dimpled smile from Mitch.

"Great," Mitch cheers, looping an arm through Scott's. "Which way to your place?"

"That way," Scott replies, pointing ahead of them. He releases a shaky breath, his chest sputtering with it. This is it, the moment before all of his lies catch up with him, his unforgivable actions that would cost him a new friend. All for what? His idiotic, drunken desires, apparently.

They could have been more, Scott knows it, deep down. If the circumstances had been different, if he would've done this all differently, he knows it. It's a crazy thought because he doesn't actually know Mitch all that well, besides his love for his dog, how deeply he cares about things, and that he's generally a nice guy.

But this is the hand he's been dealt, so he has to figure out how to play his cards before everything unravels beneath him.

-------

"I have to tell you something before we go in."

"Okay.." Mitch says, frowning as he takes a step back. "Is this where you tell me you murdered someone because I'd like a couple minute head start since I haven't ran in a while."

"What? No. What the hell, I'm not gonna kill you."

"I didn't think so, but I figured I should mention it to cross it off the list."

"That's... a really random thing to mention to someone when you're standing outside of their front door."

Mitch shrugs, hands patting his thighs as he stares impatiently at Scott. "I'd mention it to anyone, not just you. Actually, I wouldn't, but you said you needed to talk before we even got in so..."

This really isn't the foundation for any kind of conversation that Scott wants to have, especially not one where he's about to deliver bad news, or good news, depending on how Mitch wants to look at it.

"Right, okay well... no one is going to die, I hope. I don't know." Scott sighs. "How is your temper?"

"How's my temper? Uh... average I guess. I don't know."

"Do you hold grudges?"

"It depends on what it is."

"Okay... that's a bit worrisome, but not unexpected," Scott mutters, running a hand through his hair. He sighs, shoulders dropping with the action.

"What are you trying to get at?" Mitch asks, his brows pulled together in confusion. "Because there are really weird questions, Scott."

Scott winces, nodding. He knows that. "Right. Okay, well um... I did something really, really stupid that first before anything, I'd like to apologize for. I am so, so sorry, you have no idea."

Mitch tilts his head, frowning at Scott. "Are you sure you're not going to kill me?"

"I took your dog," Scott blurts out, gasping as he says it because that was not supposed to come out yet. "I mean... I didn't take her...or, I guess I did. Um... last weekend, I woke up with a dog. Your dog, apparently."

Mitch stares at him, face carefully blank as he blinks. There's nothing to Scott to read, no emotion of any kind on his face. Just a look that bores into his soul.

"Is she inside?" Mitch asks, voice even and hesitant.

"Unless someone stole her from me, then yes," he replies and Mitch nods, motioning towards the door. Right, yes, he should probably open it now.

Scott pushes his door open slowly, and Bambi runs out of the threshold, tail wagging wildly as she jumps between Mitch and Scott, hanging on to their legs like a toddler that doesn't want either of them to leave for work or go anywhere without her.

Mitch kneels down and brushes his fingers across her face, looking at her like he's found the world. And maybe he has, according to him.

Scott watches them both hesitantly, watching as Bambi... he should really just admit that her name is actually Coco... licks Mitch's face excitedly, happy to see her real dad.

"This really is my dog," Mitch says, lifting Coco off the ground so he can hold her close to him. "I thought that you were just joking, but you really did take my dog."

"I guess I did, yeah."

"Why... why would you take someone's dog?" Mitch asks, a mixture of sadness and confusion on his face.

"I wasn't trying to take her, I swear. I was drunk and... well I don't really remember all of it if I'm being honest. My friend, she has the voicemail on her phone and I guess I saw her through your fence and-"

"You broke my fence, too?"

Scott winces, taking a step back when he sees Mitch move, worried he's going to get hit, but it never comes. "I don't have any concrete evidence it was me."

"But?"

"But I might have helped in the destruction, yes. Maybe a group effort."

"You stole my dog," Mitch repeats, like he's trying to wrap his mind around this situation. "You stole my dog and then you didn't say anything about it. Why would you do that? You... you took me out for coffee instead of just giving me my dog, which would have fixed everything, by the way. Why?"

"Well at first I wasn't sure if it was your dog. She's a lab, they all look the same."

"How many other missing dog posters have you seen up? Because I haven't seen many, and even the ones I saw, none of them were for labs."

Coco whines in Mitch's arms, thrashing around as she tries to get down. He holds on to her tighter, trying to get her to stop so that he can keep yelling at Scott.

"She probably needs to go to the bathroom, she's been inside all morning."

"Don't tell me anything about my dog," Mitch glares at Scott as he sets her down on the ground. She runs into the yard, doing exactly as Scott had predicted she would. He feels like an ass for being right. "Why didn't you tell me that you had her when you knew?"

"I was going to tell you today."

"Was that before or after I made myself look like an even bigger fool in front of you?"

"Before That's why I had called you.. Then you asked me out."

Mitch scoffs. "I'm sure that was the case. And I didn't ask you out, I asked you to help me find my dog that you've been hiding in your closet."

"She wasn't in my closet."

"It's a metaphor, Scott. It's not supposed to be accurate," Scott nods instead of saying anything, because that's technically not how metaphors work, but he's done enough things to anger Mitch as it is, and it's not the focal point of this conversation. "And you know, you could have lied to me, could've said you found her instead of keeping her."

"I know."

"I don't think you do, actually. I think that, I think you're selfish, and I think you're rude, and I think that you stole my dog. Maybe you didn't mean to do it and maybe you didn't know where to take her back to, since finding a broken fence isn't the best clue for where to go," Mitch sighs, shaking his head as he looks at his dog. "But you knew it was me, Scott. You knew and you knew how badly I wanted her back."

""Yeah, I did. I'm so sorry though. Really, I truly am, and I promise that I can make it up to you."

Mitch snorts, rolling his eyes when he looks up at Scott. "And how do you plan on making it up, Scott? Are you going to give me back the last week? Do you have some time machine that will help you not to break my fence, that you should pay for by the way, and not take my dog? Or are you doing to do something shitty like say I won't have to give you the reward? Because you aren't getting it either way since this whole thing was your fault."

"I didn't even know there was a reward."

"There's always a reward, it's a lost dog. People tend to want them back."

"Right, I know that," Scott says, trying not to whine and stomp his feet on the ground. He's not the victim here, he's the one who messed up, big time. "I'm just saying, I didn't know there was a reward, so that's not why I'm telling you now that I took her."

"Whatever," Mitch grumbles. "I want to go home with my dog."

"Okay," Scott nods, turning to head inside. He grabs the leash that he bought, ignoring the food in the kitchen. He'll donate it to a shelter.

When he steps outside, Mitch is getting Coco up off the ground, brushing dirt and leaves off her feet as he presses her against his chest. He glares at Scott when he sees him, staring at the least in his hands. "Did you steal that too?" He sneers, taking it from Scott's hand and staring at it closely, checking for any signs that it could belong to someone other than Scott. "Well, it's not mind, so it's nice to know you didn't break into my house too."

"I bought it."

"You bought things for a dog that you stole? Wow, you're a real piece of work, Scott."

"This was before I knew where she came from, I wasn't sure how long she would be here with me."

"Because you weren't going to give her back."

Scott sighs and stops himself from saying anything, he doesn't want to argue, he's already done enough. Mitch is going to believe whatever he wants to and that's fine. Scott's not going to argue about what happened or any technicalities. He's not going to defend himself. It's fine.Scott doesn't care...except for a little bit. He cares a tiny bit about what Mitch thinks of him.

"I'm sorry I didn't give her back sooner, Mitch, but I'm glad you have her back now."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Mitch scoffs, hooking the leash up and setting Coco back on the ground. She looks from Scott to Mitch, mouth hanging open as she pants, grinning at them. "I'll figure out a way to get your leash back to you. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll keep it for a little bit and then break into your bathroom window and give it back, just throw it in and run off."

Scott laughs, watching as Mitch's glare becomes more intense, his mouth setting in an even line.

"It's not funny."

"I know it's not," Scott agrees. "But I could make it up to you, you know I promise I didn't mean to hurt you in doing this, or anything else I've done for that matter."

"How do you make this up, Scott?"

He shrugs, his arms falling down to his side, uselessly. "I don't know, I guess that I'd have to do a lot, actually, but I think I could start by taking you to dinner and then... uh... maybe cleaning your car on the next cold day so I'm really cold and suffering when it happens. I don't know."

"Take yourself out to dinner," Mitch snaps, sparing him one last look before he walks off, his dog walking happily behind him, trying to eat the leash as they go.

Scott watches them until they turn the corner, disappearing from his sight.

-------

"I don't know what you expected, Scott. You stole his dog." Kirstie tells him through the phone, annoying the hell out of him even more.

"Kirstie, I called you for emotional support,"

"Call Jake if that's what you want, I'm going to be honest with you."

"No, all he's going to do is make fun of me," at this point, it would probably be better than Kirstie's unsympathetic nature. Except... "And he'd try to just get me to drink again, which is how I got in this mess anyways."

"No, you got into this mess because sometimes you don't know when enough is enough."

Scott sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically. He's not sure why he called Kirstie days later, why he felt like he needed some sort of emotional support. He didn't really lose anyone, but he still feels awfully for what happened with Mitch and that he can't do anything to fix it. Of course there's that huge weight of guilt weighing him down too. It eats away at him, hitting him smack in the chest when he lets his mind wander to the look of Mitch's face when he left that day.

It feels like the one that got away, or he assumes it does. He lost a cute boy, one that he probably could have known longer than just a few days, and he lost a dog. Neither were ever really his, not in any kind of way that he'd like them to be... but at some point, maybe they could have been.

"Scott, I'm sorry you're upset about all of this but... I don't know what you expected, really. Not to sound like your mom or some cheesy advert, but you did the crime and now you have to do the time. That's how life works."

"Like sucks," Scott whines, aware of the fact that he sounds like a child, but he doesn't really care. It's only Kirstie, she's obviously heard worse from him.

"Yeah, it does. You'll get over it though, you've gone through worse."

Scott nods, even though Kirstie can't see, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Calling Kirstie didn't help any, and he knew it wouldn't but maybe he just wanted someone to rub salt into his wounds to be reminded of the fact that he did something wrong and he hurt someone.

-------

Scott groans awake, the vibrating of his phone disturbing his otherwise peaceful sleep. He feels around his bed, eyes still closed as he tries to find it. Shoving his head under his pillow, he yanks it off the cord and brings it to his ear, the vibrating happening to frequently to be texts.

"What?" He croaks out, expecting to hear Jake or Kirstie's loud mouth cutting through the silence of his bedroom.

It's definitely not them.

"I'm hungry."

"Okay. And? Who is this?"

"It's Mitch," he says, and Scott sits up so fast that his head spins, the room whirling around like he drunk again. "And I'm hungry, but that's not who I am, just what I am."

"You're hungry now? It's-" he pulls the phone away from his ear, checking the time. "It's three in the morning."

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah... like I said, it's three in the morning."

"Good. That's part of your payback."

"Not sleeping?"

"Yeah. I didn't sleep while Coco was gone, so neither do you."

"Okay," Scott mumbles, flopping back down in bed and rubbing his face. "So we've accomplished that. No what?"

"I don't know, but I'm hungry."

Scott laughs, "You wanna get something to eat?"

"Yeah, I'll get a ride to your place. Be ready in 15."

Scott breathes out slowly, pulling the phone away once more to look at the time. It's so late and he's so tired, but this is Mitch. After all Scott's done, it's the very least he can do for him. He should get up. He should get dressed. And he should take Mitch out to dinner...or breakfast, he's not sure which. He's sure there's a word for breakfast and dinner but he's too tired to think.

"Okay, I'll see you then," Scott grins to himself in the dark.

"Don't fall back asleep," Mitch warns.

"I won't."

"Okay, good. See you in 15."

"See you then."

"And Scott?"

"Yeah?" Scott asks, already sitting back up so he won't fall back asleep and piss Mitch off even more. He pulls the phone away from his ear to make sure that Mitch hasn't hung up on him. The call is still connected and he can hear Mitch breathing, slowly and quietly, a soft assurance to Scott that he's still there.

Scott doesn't press him, just gets up and starts getting ready while he waits for Mitch to say something.

"I'm still mad, you know," Mitch says finally and Scott sighs, because yeah, he knows.

-------

Mitch looks like a dream waiting for him outside of his apartment, wearing an oversized black hoodie. He smiles at Scott when he sees him, tight lipped and hesitant, like he could be scared off at any moment. Scott wets his lips, rubbing the sweat off his hands on his jeans and smiles back at him, hoping he doesn't look as scared as Mitch seems to be.

"Hey," eloquent and straight to the point, nice job Hoying.

"Hi."

"You look nice, but not at all like you just woke up."

"I haven't been to bed yet," Mitch admits, laughing lightly.

"That makes one of us."

"That it does," Mitch says with a genuine grin this time. "Come on, I'm hungry and it's gonna take us a bit to walk there."

Scott nods and falls in step with Mitch, moving down his street and heading in the direction of where they first got coffee together. It could just be a guess on Scott's part, since there's a lot places to eat in this direction. He doesn't know where they're going, but he follows Mitch anyways.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you, ya know. Not ever, but especially not this soon."

Mitch nods his head, staring down at the concrete beneath his feet instead of at Scott. He doesn't answer him, just keeps walking along and that's fine. Scott just felt like he should know that, that he wasn't aware of Mitch wanting anything to with Scott ever again, or that they'd be getting dinner..breakfast..whatever.

Sure enough, Mitch is holding open the door to the place they first got coffee, smiling sheepishly at Scott as they walk inside. The booth they sat at last time is taken by a group of teenagers, so they choose another one next to the windows so they can stare out at the city. If they're here long enough, Scott thinks they'll be able to see the sunrise together.

"This feels like a thing," Scott whispers after a they've ordered, two coffees serves with pancakes and bacon and toast, the works, ordering the breakfast sampler to get a bit of everything.

"What feels like a thing?"

"Us, coming back here together. It feels like... I don't know. Like it could mean something. It's dumb, I know."

"It's not anything, you thinking that. And maybe it does mean something, but that's for me to know and for you to find out. Or no... I said that wrong. That's for me to know and for you to ...not find out," Mitch rambles, frowning, brows furrowing together. "Wait. Okay, it's I'd tell you, but then I have to kill you. Right? I don't remember what I was getting at."

Scott laughs, because he has absolutely no idea what Mitch is trying to say to him. "I say it's late and you're excused from having to remember anything."

"Yeah, everything except for how you stole my dog."

"Yeah... I did that. Is that why you asked me to come out, so you can publicly shame me?"

"No," Mitch admits, shaking his head. "If I wanted to do that, I'd print more flyers with your picture on them and tell everyone that you like to steal pets for fun."

"I didn't do it for fun."

"I know you didn't, I'm just saying, if I were to shame you, that would be how I do it."

Scott nods, smiling at their waitress as she sets their coffees down in front of them.

"I didn't invite you here because I wanted to make you feel badly for what you did. I figured that you feel bad enough without any of my help."

"Then why did you invite me here?"

"You asked me if I'm the type of person to hold grudges."

"I did, yeah."

"And as it turns out, I'm not. I'm the type of person who tries to hold a grudge, and I think I end up feeling bad about holding a grudge and decide that I should have been such an ass to you," Mitch admits, sighing heavily. "She's a cute dog."

"She is. She's really sweet, too."

Mitch shrugs. "She ate one of my boots. Designer boots. Very expensive designer boots."

"She did it with love."

"She's angry with me. I took it as a sign that I should work towards forgiving you."

"Oh, well in that case, I'm glad she ate your boot."

"That makes one of us," Mitch grumbles, shaking his head, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Now tell me about yourself, Scott. Start with your full name, your job, your age, and any government based number that'll properly link back to you."

Scott frowns, staring at Mitch over the edge of his coffee cup. "Uh, what?"

Mitch smiles, laughing to himself, his face scrunching up. "Sorry, my friend told me to say that. Was it funny?"

"Hilarious," Scott rolls his eyes and smiles as he watches Mitch laugh, feeling like the luckiest person on the planet.

Their food comes and Scott answers all the questions that Mitch asks him, telling him about his parents and sisters, about his job at the park restaurant, waiting tables and how he's not sure what he wants to do, but that it's enough for now. It pays the bills and that's what he needs.

Mitch tells him about his job as an assistant to one of the corporate monsters downtown, Mitch's words, not Scott's. How he's trying to save up money so that he can travel somewhere new, but he usually ends up spending it on things like designer boots and clothes, even a puppy.

It's nice, exchanging stories about each other and their lives. Scott assures Mitch that he's never tried to steal a dog before, but he'd love to have one of his own someday, something to keep him company when he's not at work or out with friends. Mitch laughs and assures him that getting his own dog will be much more fulfilling than taking strangers. The more they talk about it, the more Mitch seems to loosen up about the subject, and with time, SCott thinks that maybe he'll even forgive him for it.

-------

"Putting stealing my dog aside, you're not that bad," Mitch tells Scott, smiling at him as they step out of the diner. Scott thinks about letting to door go to is smacks Mitch on the ass, but he doesn't.

"I'm glad my reputation hasn't ruined me for you."

"Oh, it has, but I haven't met my monthly charity quota, so I figured I should give you a chance."

"Wow, you really did come out tonight ready to swing at me, didn't you?"

"No, I'm just teasing you."

"Are you sure about that?"

Mitch laughs, coming to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk outside the diner, turning to smile at Scott. "I'm sure," he says, blinking up at Scott. "Sometimes I wonder if I would have been more angry if you weren't so cute."

"You think I'm cute?" Scott asks, feeling brave and taking a step towards Mitch.

"No," Mitch grins, wrinkling his nose at Scott. "I think I'm tired, must be sleep deprivation talking."

"Hmm, well maybe I should let you go home and get some sleep, it is pretty late, or early... depending on how you look at it."

"Maybe you should," Mitch whispers, staring intently at Scott and taking a tiny step closer.

Scott holds his breath, his eyes falling shut as Mitch leans forward. He feels Mitch's smirk when his lips land against his cheek, brushing against the skin before he pulls away.

"Tease," Scott jokes, opening his eyes to see a wide smile from Mitch, biting back a laugh.

"I don't put out on the first date with someone who steals my dog." Mitch says, like it's obvious.

"I can respect that," Scott tells him and then he stops, head tilting to the side as Mitch's words sink in. "You said first date. Was this a date?" Mitch shrugs. "Okay, are there going to be more?"

"Could be."

"Now you're really teasing me, aren't you?"

Mitch laughs, gently nudging Scott, shaking his head. "I think you still have a while to go until I really forgive you."

"...But?" Scott prompts, hoping there's more to that.

"But... it's supposed to be cool next weekend, so I'm thinking we can get you in a tiny pair of shorts, with a sponge in your hand and you can clean my car. I'll obviously have to watch, just to supervise you and make sure everything is going smoothly," Mitch sighs, like it's going to be the worst thing in the world for him. "And that'll be date number three, which was your suggestion by the way, so don't try to say anything to get out of it. And then you'll have to-"

"What's date number two?"

"What?" Mitch looks confusedly at Scott.

"This is date number one, cleaning your car in a tiny pair of shorts while you perversely watch is date number three. So what's date number two.?"

Mitch grins, grabbing Scott's hand. "You'll see," he says, tugging Scott away from the diner. His smile is bright and blinding, luring Scott like he's under a spell just from the sight of it. He lets Mitch drag him along, unsure of where they're going, but absolutely sure that it'll be worth it.