Warnings: language, strong sexual content.

Goodness me, more apologies are in order. I had an extra day of work this weekend, and my schedule was all thrown off. Just to be safe, I will be switching these last few chapters to Tuesday postings, as I do have them off and am more available to edit and type and everything. Apologies for the wait.

Edit-see end for more notes.

He trudges along, looking for a place to sleep. This Dog is tired a lot. He doesn't know why. He doesn't have a pack anymore. There were Humans that ran with This Dog once, but they had gone away and left him alone. He joined a Dog pack, but he has short legs and trips over his ears a lot, so they left him behind, too. Without a pack, This Dog is not safe. A dog needs a pack. It has always been this way. He keeps walking. He stays out of the Black Trails, avoids the Metal Beasts. He knows that much.

This Dog walks and walks until he finds an open den. It's big and made of red stone. Best of all, he can smell food and Humans. This will be a Good Place. He goes in. There isn't any food out for the taking, but he sees a long brown bed he can sleep on. Couch. Humans call it a couch, and Good Dogs don't get on the couch. This Dog was not a Good Dog, however. The Humans wouldn't have left him if he were. He gets on the couch and goes to sleep.

Loud rumbling wakes him up. He picks up his head. He sees two big Metal Beasts roll in and stop. Then, six Humans come in, but one comes right over to look at him. It is a funny kind of Human, with a lot of very curly fur on top of his head and a patch of it under his nose. The Human cocks its head, like it doesn't understand why This Dog is there. He is only there because it is nice and dry. Isn't that why any animal goes into a den? The other Humans come to join the first, one with shaggy fur, another with fur under his nose. They start talking, their mouths creating unfamiliar sounds This Dog doesn't entirely understand. There is a loud sound, a lot of them, and the Humans all leave.

They all come back later and sit eating at the table. This Dog remembers not to beg at the table for food. He is hungry, but he doesn't beg. The Human with the curly fur gets up with a bowl of food, crouches in front of him, sets the bowl down. This Dog likes the couch, and he is still wary of these new Humans. Another dog This Dog knew died when a Human fed it something. The food killed the rats, too. This Dog stays on the couch. Curly Fur still sits on the floor, trying to coax him to eat while two other Humans leave.

The couch is very nice. This Dog hasn't laid anywhere so nice in a long time, and he is loath to get up, even for food. Curly Fur plies him with food and water, but he doesn't want to get up. When the two come back, the Humans all talk again, looking at him. This Dog remembers groups of Humans hurting dogs. He doesn't think these ones will hurt him. The Two come over and start touching him, touch his nose and ears and belly, and it feels nice. They make loud sounds at each other, like fighting, and those other loud sounds call them away. This Dog stays on the couch.

When they come back again, they smell like dirt and fear and relief. They go to clean themselves, only four of them there, and they sit with This Dog until the Two return. Another Two sit on either side of him, one with fur under his nose and one who is tall and thin, a Two behave like a mated pair. They speak again, and This Dog understands 'Keep,' 'Call,' sounds like that. Good sounds. Then he hears it. Henry. He picks up his head, wags his tail as they pet and touch him. It feels nice. Henry. This Dog has a name now. They call him Henry. He knew they would be good. That was why he finally ate their food. Henry wags his tail. Henry stays on the couch.

xXxXx

"Hey, Chet," Hank said, stepping into the day room, "It's time to turn in, pal."

Chet looked up from his spot on the couch beside the newfound Henry. He'd been pretty broken up over the death of their last station dog, Boot. They had all been sad, Hank included, but no one had been more upset than Chet. He was the one who was closest to Boot. Very blue eyes blinked up at Hank.

"Yeah, I know, Cap. Just-… It's Henry's first night here," Chet explained softly, a light flush coloring his cheeks, "I don't want him to feel alone."

A gentle smile graced Hank's face in spite of himself. He can be a real twit sometimes, but I can't deny he's a good kid. He stood quietly for a moment, simply watched as Chet's hand rubbed along Henry's flank. Warmth bloomed in Hank's chest, soft and bright. He sighed quietly, told Chet, "Alright, pal, just don't be too late."

Hank went back into the dorm, ready for bed himself.

"Where's Chet?"

Marco stood by, looking a bit worried, a bit concerned. Hank smiled, "Oh, he's fine. He just wants to make Henry feel at home his first night here."

"I should've known. As soon as he laid eyes on that dog, we all knew it was staying. Well, it'll be good for him. He really loved Boot, and he really gets along with dogs. Maybe he'll fall asleep out there, but there's no real harm if he does. Anyway… night, Cap."

"G'night, Marco. Night, fellas."

The other three men chorused their goodnight, all climbing into their bunks for what would hopefully be a good night's rest. Hank listened to his men drift to sleep one by one, until he was the only one awake. He thought some part of him must have been waiting for Chet to come to bed. A memory came to him of Chet telling Johnny he would talk to Boot sometimes, and something twisted in Hank's chest. Quietly as he could, Hank got out of bed, stepped into his bunkers, padded across the bay to peek into the day room.

Chet lay across the couch, Henry on his chest, both man and dog snoring faintly. That soft smile returned to Hank's face. There was something calming in the sight of the two of them sleeping so peacefully when they've only just met. This is gonna be good for him. He needs someone to be close to. Chet lived alone, but Hank got the distinct feeling that the young man craved closeness and intimacy and love. He could sense it in the way Chet would stand too close for too long, would hover around them all, the way he used to dote on Boot. This lazy hound would be good for him.

He looked at man and dog again, saw Chet was shivering finely in the autumn night air. Hank stole over to the engine to retrieve Chet's turnout and went just as quietly into the day room, carefully draping it over the two of them like a blanket. He looked down at the sleeping man, couldn't help himself, gently smoothed the coat over him, murmured, "Goodnight, Chet. Goodnight, Henry."

As quietly as he came, he left, returned to the dorm, and went back to bed, easily falling asleep now that he knew Chet was alright.

xXxXx

Bright sunlight and the smell of coffee pulled Chet from sleep slowly. He blinked, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. Looking down, he could see someone had covered him with his turnout at some point overnight, covered him and Henry with it as if it were a blanket. Warmth settled in his chest and spread out to his limbs. He was cared for, and it was so nice, so comforting to have the knowledge. He cast his gaze to the sleeping hound.

Where did you come from, little buddy? He'd been wondering about Henry since he arrived. He was such a sweet, loving dog, and Chet couldn't understand how he'd ended up wandering the streets. Had someone abandoned him out of pure meanness or cruelty? Did he live with a family who had loved him but could no longer care for him? Did he run away and get lost with his family still out there looking for him? Was he just always a stray dog, born on the street and living on scraps? I wish dogs could talk. Then we'd know. He stroked along the dog's head, pausing to rub his velvety ears.

Chet had often wished dogs could talk, particularly when Boot was around. Even without words, the mutt had been such a comfort, could sit close and cuddle up with him. Words might not have been needed, but they may have been nice. He felt the words, however, felt that Boot was telling him everything would be alright and that he was enough and that he wasn't alone. Actually hearing them was sometimes more needed.

Henry had drooled on him at some point while he slept, and as much as Chet wanted to be mad, he quickly found he couldn't be.

"Someone had a good night's sleep," a voice teased.

He turned his head. Mike was smirking at him from the table, coffee in hand.

"Yeah… s'pose I did," he replied, "Hey, who covered us up last night?"

Mike shrugged, but Chet was pretty sure he knew that Mike knew and simply wasn't telling him. The thought was comforting, though, that each of his shiftmates was as likely as the next to have shown him that act of love. Mike got to his feet and strode over to Chet and Henry, gently petting the still sleeping dog.

"Y'know, Chet, you're gonna have to get up sometime."

"Yeah, I know… He just looks so happy. I hate to wake him up," he said, chewed his lip, asked, "Mike? Cap's gonna let Henry stay, right?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good. I like Henry. I want him to have a good life."

The engineer gave him a gentle smile, and he offered one in return. Henry began to stir, making soft noises and shifting around. Chet laughed quietly. Sudden emotion welled up inside him, the memories of Boot washing over him. Mike must have noticed. He quickly set down his mug and knelt by Chet, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm, asking, "What is it, Chet? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he sniffed, "nothi- well… not nothing, obviously… I dunno… Just-… me an' Boot used to sleep like this a lot and… I guess it just hit me is all…"

Henry picked his head up and licked Chet's chin as if to offer his comfort, as if he knew Chet was upset. Dogs always know. He sniffed again, scratched Henry's ears gently. Mike rubbed his arm for a moment, then got up as the rest of the shift came in. No one made a comment about him sleeping on the couch with the dog, not even Johnny.

"Alright, Henry, pal… c'mon, I gotta get up," Chet told the sleepy hound, "I know I make a nice pillow, but I do have a job to do, y'know?"

A few of the guys laughed. Good. Chet liked to make people laugh, always did. Seeing their happiness made him happy in turn, and he so often desperately needed to be happy. Johnny sauntered over, smiling.

"Chet, I gotta say, man, you look like you are well-rested," Johnny said quietly.

"I guess I am. Me an' Henry slept like babies. I just can't get him to move now."

"You'll move him when ya need to, I reckon. Gonna hafta hit the head sometime."

"Yeah, I guess that's true… Man… I wish I could take him home with me. It'd be nice not to be alone."

Johnny said nothing else; Chet couldn't blame him. It was hard to know what to say sometimes in words, though Johnny's sad smile pretty much said it all for him. Chet occasionally wondered if ought to get a roommate. An animal would be nice, but it was simply not the same as human companionship. He also, however, occasionally worried. He watched Johnny's gentle hand stroke one of Henry's ears. His stomach twisted warmly.

If Chet was being truly honest with himself, the state of his sexuality was extremely nebulous. A large part of him wasn't even sure he had a sexuality to speak of. There were people he liked to look at, people he thought were pretty or handsome, people he wanted to be close to, but he was quite certain he never wanted to have sex with any of them. He thought back to Mellie. We fucked, sure, but there wasn't really anything behind it. We both knew it. Sex between them had been a distraction and nothing more, something they did to take their minds off what had happened to them. Since then, it had ceased to be even that.

He wanted no part of sexual affairs anymore. They held neither interest nor appeal for him. I just need a friend, someone who'll… who'll just stay. Chet wasn't entirely sure, however, that was doable. He was more than abrasive on occasion, had moments when a dark depression would set in, when his nightmares left him screaming and shaking and crying. Who in their right mind would sign up for such a thing? Returning his gaze to Johnny, Chet felt his stomach twist again. Maybe… I've always said Johnny's not in his right mind. Perhaps he could bring it up to him soon.

xXxXx

Mike gave a quiet sigh as he shut the bathroom door behind him, ready for a shower and a short nap. He carefully stripped out of his clothes and reached for his shorts when Marco knocked on the door, peeked in, smirked.

"Can I help you?" Mike queried teasingly.

"Maybe," Marco replied, slipping into the bathroom, "I was just thinkin' maybe we could save a 'lil water and shower together."

"Yeah? I'm pretty sure every time we shower together we end up using more water because of all our extracurriculars."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take," he shrugged, still smirking.

"Then I think you better hurry up and get naked, babe."

Marco quickly stripped down, revealing he was already half-hard. The sight sent heat rushing to Mike's groin, his own cock taking notice. I still think he's the sexiest guy alive. No one even turns my head like he does. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Mike grabbed Marco's hips, pulling him close and pressing a heated kiss to his lips.

"If you're not careful," Marco breathed, "we won't even make it into the shower."

"Oh, we will… but I'm pretty sure now I'm gonna fuck you in that shower."

A groan rumbled in Marco's throat, his cock hard against Mike's thigh. Mike grazed his teeth over Marco's neck, whispered, "Wait here," went to get the lube. It wasn't very often that he topped, so they were definitely going to need it. When he returned to the bathroom, Marco was sitting on the edge of the tub, legs splayed open, and Mike honestly began to salivate. Yeah, I've got it bad. Mike dropped to his knees in front of his lover, licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, swirled his tongue around the head. Marco sucked in a sharp breath, his hand coming up to grip the hair at the back of Mike's head, tugging gently. The sensation went right to Mike's dick.

He wrapped one hand around Marco's cock, pumping slowly, and touched two fingers to his lips, encouraging him to take them into his mouth. He bit his lip at the sensation of the warm tongue teasing his fingers. Fuck, I'm already so hard. Mike swallowed Marco about halfway and, coaxing him to his feet, carefully pressed his saliva-coated fingers into Marco's ass. Fingers tightened in his hair. Mike easily deep-throated him, relaxing his jaw, forcing his gag reflex not to kick in, reveling in the heat and weight on his tongue. A loud moan dropped from Marco's lips. Working his fingers in and out, he bobbed his head, fucking his mouth with Marco's cock.

"Mike… queri-querido… fuck-…"

Marco tugged a little tighter on Mike's hair, pulling him up from his knees, licking hotly into his mouth. Shaking hands grabbed his shorts and yanked them down.

"What are you tryin' to do to me, babe?" Marco asked huskily, "You keep doin' shit like that, I'm gonna cum before the fun really starts."

"I'm sure I'd get it back up again in a hurry."

He kissed Marco more slowly this time and stepped over to the shower. Anticipation flowed through his blood. Marco grinned at him as they stepped into the spray, asking, "You gonna fuck me good, huh?"

"You know it. I learned from the best, after all."

Mike pushed him up against the wall of the shower, kissing him hard while Marco pumped his cock, covering it with lube. He broke away after a moment, lavishing attention on the brown throat in front of him.

"Shit… want you to fuck me so hard, mi amor," he breathed, "Please…"

"You're ready for me? You think you're ready for me to fuck you?"

His words weren't just dirty talk. They also served to ensure Marco had been prepared enough, that he truly was ready for Mike. Marco whined, rolled his hips, told him, "Si, querido… I-I wanna feel you inside me, Mike, please… I need you."

Mike desperately wished he possessed the strength to hold Marco up against the wall and fuck him, but that was sadly not going to happen today. He put his hands on the muscular hips and turned his lover around, water rolling in rivulets down their backs. Pressing his lips to the nape of Marco's neck, Mike carefully pushed in, already feeling how tight he was. Marco's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. Mike gently bit the shoulder in front of him as he slowly thrust, pinned Marco's hands to the wall, gave a final roll of his hips to fully bury himself, growled in his ear, "Shit, you're so fuckin' tight, babe."

"I know… maybe because it's a-a rare treat to be fucked by you."

"Shoulda let me know you liked it so much."

"Thought I did."

Mike rolled his hips, pulling out some and pushing back in, dragging a groan from Marco. It was true that Mike enjoyed topping, enjoyed being a bit dominant and rough and in charge, however, he generally preferred to bottom. At work, he was second-in-command, and Cap had recently taken to giving him little tasks around the station that seemed like practice for being a captain. It was nice to get rid of all the pressure and let someone else take charge. Today, though… Mike thrust sharply, the slap echoing slightly in the shower, amplified by wet skin.

Water pounded against his shoulder and dripped down his face. Marco pushed back against his thrusts, moaning in time with their movements, vocal as ever. A wonderful burn was starting in Mike's thighs and buttocks and hips from his efforts. He increased the speed of his fucking, pulling hands away from Marco's wrists to grip his hips, giving himself a bit more leverage.

"Oh, yeah…" Marco gasped, "Oh, fuck… yeah, fuck my ass…"

"You like that? Huh, Marco, babe, you like my cock in your ass?"

"Fu-Fuck yeah…"

Mike wrapped his arms around Marco's torso and pulled him in so his back was flush against his chest, continued to rock up into him, felt Marco shaking from pleasure, his body reacting exquisitely to be so thoroughly fucked. His head dropped back onto Mike's shoulder, breath hitching on each thrust. Mike let his lips trail over the beautiful throat.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, Marco."

He buried himself fully and stilled, heard Marco whine low in his throat, brought a hand up to stroke his wet hair back from his forehead. Two hands grabbed his ass and pulled, Marco trying to get him to move again. Mike laughed quietly, gently dragged his teeth over Marco's throat.

"I'd like to see you cum, baby," he whispered over the spray of the water, "I'm gonna fuck you and you're not gonna touch yourself and you're gonna cum for me."

Marco shivered, groaned, rolled his hips. Mike returned to a feverish pace without warning. A keening moan slipped from Marco's lips, his body clenching around Mike's cock, forcing a gasp from Mike's lungs. He was close, and he could tell Marco was, too. He cast his gaze down his lover's body to his flushed cock.

"C'mon, babe, lemme see you cum for me, Marco…"

Mike gave a final sharp thrust. Marco's hips slammed back against his. A explosive groan sounded in Mike's ear as Marco shot cum over the shower wall, cock twitching with his release, body clenching around Mike once more.

"Alright, c'mon, mi amor, fuck my ass… Need you to cum in me."

Taking hold of his hips once more, Mike fucked into him roughly, desperate for his own release. He felt heat pooling in his groin and in the base of his spine, couldn't tell if the rushing in his ears was water or his heartbeat. Light burst behind his eyes. Mike sucked in a series of shuddering gasps, his breath hitching as he spilled his cum inside his lover, hips stuttering.

They both breathed heavily, each leaning on the other for the time being, each thoroughly sated and fucked out.

"We still hafta shower," Marco muttered.

Mike let out a bark of laughter, agreed, "Yeah, I s'pose we do."

xXxXx

Johnny invited Chet to crash at his place for a bit, thought it would give him a chance to think. Chet, apparently, was considering moving out of his current apartment and seeking a roommate. Concurrently, Johnny was considering much the same. Neither told the other, instead used Marco as a go-between who was sworn to secrecy, knowing Marco would never tell the other anything explicit.

Chet was currently sacked out on Johnny's couch, snoring faintly, hand having dropped onto the floor. He slept peacefully, his features smooth and round and soft. He looks sweet almost… Johnny sighed quietly. It bothered him to know Chet often felt lonely. He supposed he always knew it, somewhere deep down, but he didn't want to think of it, pushed it away until he didn't have to. Now though, he'd heard it from Chet's own mouth. That wasn't something he could hide from anymore.

Sighing again, Johnny shifted in his chair, still watching his friend. He knew the lineman didn't like to be alone, used to seek out quick dates and one-night-stands for momentary companionship but didn't anymore. He doesn't date anymore. He sure hasn't talked about anyone, an' he would talk. Johnny supposed he understood. Dating had kind of lost its appeal for him, too. Too many people asked when he was going to settle down with a nice girl and start a family, and he was sick of deflecting the questions. He liked sex, certainly, liked it with all kinds of people, and he was perfectly content with some free love and no attachments.

Perhaps he just needed a friend to live with, someone to provide companionship but not be a sexual concern. 'Cause I love Chet, I really do… but I sure don't wanna fuck 'im. Johnny sometimes got a bit lonely, too, after all, wished he had someone right there to talk to, to laugh with… to cry and rage with. Theirs was a hard job, and being alone wasn't always the best way to handle something bad. Roy and Cap were married and had their wives to go home to. Marco and Mike were, for all intents and purposes, married to each other in every way that mattered and went home together. Johnny and Chet were alone unless they briefly went with someone else. Still, it wasn't the same.

Chet shifted in his sleep, his features contracting slightly, a low noise escaping his throat. Johnny watched him for a moment, waited. He knew the other man longed for comfort and contact and touch. He could practically see it in his eyes, could feel it whenever he stood too close. A quiet whine left Chet's lips, some dream obviously bringing him discomfort, and Johnny found he couldn't sit by any longer, not when his friend was upset. He got to his feet and went to Chet, sitting on the edge of the couch by his hips. Chet whined again.

Johnny reached out and settled his hand on Chet's shoulder and back, rubbing soothingly, watched in awe and happiness when Chet calmed immediately. A smile crept onto Johnny's face in spite of himself. That's right. You just sleep, babe. Perhaps he could bring up being roommates in the morning.

A/N: For whoever keeps insinuating that I'm plagiarizing kelmin/TrapeloRoad on AO3, please stop. I have never, and would never, do anything so mean and awful. I have honestly never read 'Lucky Dog' until after I posted this chapter. I'm writing from the point of view of Henry from when he arrives. I literally watched the episode and just followed what the characters were doing. Truthfully, I went back to a Sherlock fic in which John Watson used to be a dog to see how they handled it and to get some of the POV sounding the way I wanted in my head. I couldn't look to 'Lucky Dog' for anything because I didn't know it existed.

As for Brice and Bellingham, they literally only appear in four episodes. That's not exactly a plethora of information to go on. Have I read TrapeloRoad's fics? Hell yes. They are beautiful and wonderful and I love them. I respect the hell out of him, and I would never stoop so low as to steal from anybody who worked hard on something because I wouldn't want it done to me. I'm well aware there are similarities because there's not a whole lot I could do that was different. If you think I could have, wonderful. Let me know in a thoughtful, respectful manner. Come in my inbox. Hit up my ask on tumblr. I'm deleting any anon that isn't thoughtful discourse or is related to this issue.

Thank you to everyone who follows along with this massive undertaking. You're all amazing :)