So I was planning on writing a chapter for one of my stories, but then I got this idea so... yeah...

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Title: The Dog

Summary: Nine year old Mariana sees an unwanted dog and identifies with it. Pure fluff Mariana and the moms

DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing, and I don't pretend to.

The Dog

The sign said 'Needs a home' and the dog beside it looks sad, it's grey head drooping as passer-bys walk by it, scarcely sparing it a glance.

You know how it feels. In fact, you used to be it. You used to feel worthless, unwanted and unloved as you and your brother got passed from foster family to foster family, never finding a permanent placement and always fully aware that no one wanted the two of you, not even your own mother. At least, that's how it used to be. But then you found them, the Fosters, and now you have a family - two lovely, caring mommies and an older brother. You got all you'd ever dreamt about - people who cared for you - and more. You got your own room, your own belongings, a family to keep forever. They even wanted to adopt you.

And you wanted them to. But more than that, you wanted to tell them how... grateful you were to them. At first you couldn't tell them because you were scared and didn't know them well, and therefore refused to speak to anyone but your brother. Now, later on and after much patience on their behalfs, you could speak to them but didn't know how to put into words what you so desperately wanted to say. Then again, how could anyone expect you to? Some adults wouldn't be able to so how were you, at the mere age of nine-and-a-half, meant to?

You can't. So instead, you tell them through your actions. The hugs and kisses that you give them, the pink glitter and cut-out hearts that you use to decorate cards that you give them, the small hand squeezes you share as you walk with them, they all mean the same thing; I love the two of you so much, thank you for loving me too.

But you know what it's like to not have that, to be unloved by practically everyone, to be kicked out of a home and have no idea why, no idea what you'd done wrong. So, as you look at the dog, tears form in your eyes and, before you know it, you're bawling. Once that begins, Stef and Lena take you home, both women confused as to why you're crying, but both women comforting you nonetheless.

By the time you've arrived home, you're calm and no longer crying. You've also formed a plan. A plan to give that dog a home, a plan to give that dog a chance to be loved.

Later, when they question you, you can only shrug. You will honestly not be able to recall how you managed to sneak out of the house and go back to the dog, or how you then got home. But you did, you arrived back home and with you was the dog.

You named the dog Mariana Foster. Mariana because that was your name and Foster so that it would feel like it belonged in the house. Secretly, you were hoping that Stef and Lena would realise how good that sounded and make that be your name. But you didn't want to get your hopes up, Jesus always told you not to and, even with this being a safe home, you put whatever Jesus said above anything and anyone else.

But, when Lena asked, you still told her the dog's name - once they'd gotten over the shock of going upstairs to tuck their soon-to-be-daughter in bed and instead finding a scruffy grey terrier lounging around on top of the covers. At first they'd sounded cross, but after you told them her name, Lena's eyes had softened, and Stef's voice had lost it's sharp tone. They'd both became even more sympathetic when you pointed out how similar it was to you.

Lena had sat down on the edge of your bed and pulled you into a one-sided hug, so that your head rested on her shoulder. Then, Stef knelt down, becoming eye-level with you and holding your hand.

"We can't keep her, Mariana, I'm sorry." She'd told you. "She's old and probably comes with a huge vet bill, not to mention fleas."

You'd frowned at that, and shook your head, "So?" You'd questioned, "Up until you two, no one wanted Jesus and I because we weren't the age they wanted - we were too old. And you wanted us, even after Jesus broke his arm falling out of that tree!"

When Stef shoots Lena a look, you know that you'll get your way. You smile and Lena sighs.

"Okay," she says, "Mommy and I will discuss it and then maybe we can keep her. But you need to choose another name for her - we can't have two Mariana Fosters around - is that understood, Miss Thing?"

You nod excitedly. Not only do you get the dog - there was no way they'd decide against it - but without realising it, Lena had granted you what you'd desperately wanted - she'd called you Mariana Foster!

Happily, you opened your arms around the three of them - both moms and the dog - and squeezed hard.

You ended up naming the dog Belle, after your favourite Disney princess. It turned out that Stef was right, Belle was old. So old, in fact, that she died shortly after your adoption had been finalised. But, though sad, you were okay with that.

After alll, in the end, she'd gotten a loving family, and so had you.

And you couldn't ask for more than that.