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“Maya. Hey, Maya.”
It's just barely 6:30 on a Saturday morning – the prime time to ask his girlfriend something she'll most likely agree to because she's half-asleep. She's not seeing Riley until later in the afternoon and he's not seeing Zay until that evening so she'll have no reason to be awake, which is something she's sure to communicate to him. Most likely with a few choice words and a you're sleeping on the couch tonight.
“Is the house on fire?” she mumbles, half her face squished into her pillow. It's pretty much the most adorable thing Lucas has ever seen.
“No.”
Maya sighs. “Is anyone dying?”
“Statistically, two people die every second.”
“Is anyone in this house dying?” she reiterates. She's still got her eyes closed and he doesn't think she'll open them any time soon.
“Nope.” He pokes her side. “We're still alive.”
“Then get outta my face,” she replies and sticks her hand out, pushing away at whatever part of his face she can find, which happens to be his cheek. He doesn't budge.
“I have a question. It's an important question.”
“There's a hammer somewhere in the closet by the mop. Get it and smash my head in so I won't have to hear you talk anymore.”
“So you know how much I love animals, and how much I love taking care of them,” he begins.
She grunts her affirmation.
“Well, I was thinking we'd get a dog. I mean, just hear me out - it's summer vacation so that means we don't have school. And you work in the mornings until – what? three? And I work mostly night shifts. So we each have time to take care off said dog, and if worse comes to worst, Riley would definitely be willing to help out if we needed.”
“Did you suddenly forget about Paco? Our very nice, very well-bred and cooperative cat who doesn't need constant attention all hours of the day and can go to the bathroom by himself?”
Lucas huffs, slightly put off. “Yes, but Paco doesn't like me.”
“That's not true.”
“Maya, he literally will not go two feet of me if you're not in the same room,” he tells her. He's always found it strange that the one animal in the entire world who cannot stand being around him ends up being their pet. “I'm a vet assistant. I work with animals every day – I know everything there is to know about animals, and my cat hates me. Maya, I need a dog. Dogs love everyone! And I can guarantee that your black hole of a heart will love it too.”
“Fine, Jesus, just let me go back to sleep,” she mumbles and flips on her other side, away from him. He thinks his cat and Maya might be too much alike. “Your voice is worse than nails on a chalkboard.”
“You're so sweet and loving.”
“I know. Now go away before I kick you out.”
He presses a kiss to her head and slides back into bed.
*
They go to the animal shelter that weekend, after convincing Maya that the sooner the better, which she isn't too entirely happy about because he'd insisted waking her up early every day since his initial proposition.
She marches up to someone in a staff t-shirt and, without preamble, says, “We’re looking for a dog.”
The employee, Charlie, as his smudged name tag reads, replies with a grin, “Well, you've certainly come to the right place.”
Maya rolls her eyes, unamused. “Can we see them or not? I don't have all day.”
“I don't mean to sound rude, ma’am, but the animals here are looking for a nice, loving home and if you'd – “
“She's not usually like this,” Lucas interjects, ignoring Maya's glare as he gently moves her out of the way. “It's an early day for her.”
“It's three in the afternoon.”
“Like I said. It's an early day.”
Charlie glances back over to Maya, who raises her eyebrows expectantly, and offers a resigned sigh, gesturing for them to come around back. “We keep our dogs in here. Let me know if you see one you like.”
Once he leaves them to their own devices, Lucas flocks to the biggest dog he can see. He turns to Maya and beckons her over. “Maya, look, his name is Tiny but he's like a thousand pounds. Can we get him?”
She folds her arms across her chest and lifts a brow. “I’m not getting a dog that's bigger than me.”
He frowns. “Damn, I guess we'd have to get a pet rat then.”
Lucas can tell it took every single muscle in her body to stay still and not take the dog bowl full of water sitting on the floor to pour all over his head. He applauds her strength.
Although Maya likes to pretend that she doesn't care about anything, he notices how she slowly starts to warm up to the dogs – even sticking her index finger between the bars to scratch a sleeping puppy’s nose.
“This one’s cute,” he points out. It looks like she's about one years old, a perfect golden retriever, with light brown fur and blue eyes. She’s sitting, watching them, her tail already wagging in anticipation.
“Yeah,” she calls from the other side of the room. “But I like this one.”
Lucas jogs over to where she is, excited to see the dog she's picked, excited that she's excited about a dog she's picked. But his steps falter once he gets close enough.
“Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?” she coos, opening the gate and scooping him, or what's left of him, into her arms. He wouldn't exactly call him cute. It's a weird looking thing, with an ear that looks like it's been chewed off, and only three legs.
“How'd you get that open? It was locked.”
“God, it's like you know nothing about me.”
He shifts his weight on the other foot. It's funny how they switched moods in the span of ten minutes. “That's a squirrel. I'm sure there are dogs with more body parts that you can choose from, Maya.”
But Maya wants him, Maya loves him immediately, so that's the dog they choose, that's the dog that makes her happy. Charlie gives her a funny look when they tell him which one they decided on, but all Lucas can supply him with is a shrug.
Maya ends up naming him Samson, and laughs about it for ten minutes. Lucas has to get used to this weird looking, scrappy little dog, but it's easier when he sees the way Maya looks at him. He knows she's been stressed lately, with final classes and graduation coming up, so it's good that they have this tiny pocket of light to come home to. No matter how unconventional he may look.
And the dog actually likes him, so that's a plus.
*
Giving Sammy baths should honestly be considered an Olympic category since Lucas has never exerted this much energy in his life. And he's played high school and college football.
Maya's chasing him around the apartment, knocking over pots and pans, slamming into bookshelves, bumping her hip into the dining table several times he's sure it'll leave bruises. “I’ll get you, my pretty!”
“I think you're scaring him even more,” he calls out, sliding down to sit next to the bathroom door. Paco is resting on top of the kitchen counter, watching the commotion with absolutely little to no interest. “No one wants to hear that voice at ten o’clock at night.”
After a series of more concerning noises coming from the bedroom, Maya comes back with a squirming Samson in her arms and a triumphant grin on her face. “Alright, let’s do this quick. I'm losing feeling in almost every part of my body.”
Lucas is not sure what happened in this dog’s life, but he's clearly seen some things, to be this frightened of water. By the time they're finished, Lucas and Maya and their entire bathroom floor are seemingly cleaner than Samson. He looks up at them, tilts his head, and scampers off, leaving a trail of water leading to their room.
They don’t move for a few minutes, relishing in the still quiet, ignoring the puddle they're sitting on because it doesn't matter at this point.
“It's a good thing we've got tile,” Lucas mutters.
“That’s a good attitude.” She pats his thigh. “Count your blessings, babe.”
*
For Halloween, they dress him up in a bumble bee costume and enter him in a contest at their local dog park. Of course, he doesn't win. The Yorkie in the Marilyn Monroe dress paired with the fake boobs and blonde wig was obviously a crowd pleasure. Sammy never had a standing chance. But Maya still loves putting him in dog shows and entering him in competitions, even though he always loses.
“You know, he's actually kinda cute,” Lucas states as they watch him chase a beagle in a hot dog costume around a big oak tree. When they first took him to the park, he didn't interact with any of the other dogs. Too shy and anxious to get along with the ones already assimilated. Lucas is glad to see that he’s doing better.
“Only took you four and a half months to realize it,” Maya replies, drily.
He wraps an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him so he can place a kiss against her temple. “Is it too late to change his name? He looks like a peanut.”
“Hasn't he gone through enough?”
Sammy runs over to them then, overly excited and eager like all dogs are, and jumps up on his hind legs so he can lick Lucas’s hand. “Hey, little guy. Hope none of the other kids are picking on you. I'll beat them up if I have to.”
Once they get home, Sammy flops on Lucas’s lap and drifts off. Maya's curled into his side and he feels an overwhelming sense of wholeness. “Hey, thanks for agreeing to get a dog with me. I think it's really brought us closer together.”
“Yeah, for such a little thing he takes up so much of the bed.”
“Definitely not what I meant.”
She grins, bright and happy, and leans over carefully to kiss his mouth. “I know.”
*
Riley does help with Sammy when real life gets to be too much for them sometimes.
Maya has a two and a half week work trip in France and the vet starts giving him extra hours, some of which start early in the morning, so Sammy would've been alone for quite some time if it hadn't been for Riley.
She sends Maya hourly updates, and Lucas if she remembers. He's not entirely sure what could have changed from one hour to the next, but pictures of Sammy always brightens up his day, so he's glad for them. It's lonely coming home to an empty house, save for Paco, who has secluded himself in the bathroom since Maya’s been gone and only bothering to make an appearance for food.
He facetimes her every chance they have until she gets home, skype if they want to three-way with Riley and Samson. The connection is bad sometimes, but he can still see the blinding blur of her smile when Riley puts Sammy on the screen.
“I'll be home in eight days,” she tells him when it's just the two of them. “Tell me how much you've missed me.”
“More than I know what to do with.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles anyway. “Drama queen.”
“Are you gonna tell me how much you've missed me now?” he asks. He sees her flop down onto her stomach on the hotel bed, her legs kicking in the air. She's dressed in just the complementary robe, her hair tied up in a lazy bun, and he's glad to see her relaxed.
“Sorry, but you're not my type.”
Lucas rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile because that is so Maya. “A relief.”
She rests her chin in the crook of her elbow then, only half her face visible to him now. “I miss when Sammy wakes us up in the mornings, when he sits by my feet in the kitchen as I make breakfast. When we take him out for a walk and he gets excited every time he sees a bird. Or when you're making dinner and he stares at you and wags his tail until you feed him something because you're weak and he's adorable.”
“So what I'm hearing is that you miss our dog more than you miss me.”
“Miss our bed too. And how I get offered snails at a much lesser frequency over there.”
“I agree. Being forced to eat foreign gourmet delicacies is a real feat. I admire your bravery.”
He sees half of her smile. “You already know how much I miss you, cowboy.”
Maya’s never been a texter, only ever shooting him a message to pick up groceries or send him a funny picture she found on the internet, because she's always preferred talking on the phone. But she hasn't had the time to call him with the time zones and schedules working against them, so she's been finding time to text him throughout the day. It kind of caught him off guard the first time she did it, sending him a long message about how some people shouldn't be art curators if they aren't passionate about what they're presenting. Or that day she had the chance to go sightseeing and sent him too many fun facts about historical landmarks and figures that he's sure aren't even, at least some of them, true.
("That doesn't sound right, Maya, I really don't think Napoleon puked on the Palace of Versailles from drinking too much."
"Okay, but how do you know that he didn't?"
"And his last name is Bonaparte, not Dynamite."
"They're not the same people?")
He didn't understand, or believe, half the stuff she was talking about, which she probably knew, but he welcomed the messages flooding his inbox from her either way.
“Yeah, you're super annoying and needy when you're lonely.”
“Interesting how you say that considering it’s just past ten here, which makes it – what? Four a.m there? Hm. Tell me again how needy I am?” She raises her eyebrows, like she thinks she's fucking won or something.
But – “Hey, I’m not arguing with you there.”
“God, you're embarrassing.”
Lucas grins. “I have to get up early in the morning, so I’ll talk to you later. Or you'll just send me sixty good morning texts until I answer them. Eight days, right?”
She nods and the reminder of it is relieving. “Eight days. See you then.”
“Hey,” he says before either of them can hang up, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” and then, because she feels like it's incomplete without it, she adds, “asshole.”
*
Their first Christmas with Samson turns out better than expected.
Zay comes over in the morning to help with the food since he knows more about cooking than both of them combined. Lucas leaves him and Maya in the kitchen to do their own thing, arguing over the best way to bake the ham, while he sets the table and occupies Samson until everyone else arrives.
Farkle and Smackle come in matching outfits and reindeer antlers, cute if not completely cheesy and embarrassing, and totally them. This is the first time Samson’s meeting the both of them so he's shy at first, hiding behind Lucas’s legs until he picks him up and holds him close to his chest. Smackle scratches his ears and makes noises she thinks a dog would like to hear and he warms up to her eventually.
Zay plays some Christmas music while the food is cooking, dances around the living room area with Maya as she laughs and sips from her mug of spiked eggnog, careful not to knock off her decorative elf ears.
“Maya didn't wanna get a dog at first,” he tells them. Samson’s rolled onto his back so Smackle can rub his belly. “She hates them.”
“Stop telling people I hate dogs, they'll think I'm insane,” she calls from the kitchen.
“But you do.”
“No, I don't, stop lying. I don't hate dogs. I just think cats are easier and more convenient. Take the current absence of Paco, for example. He's no where to be seen but there's a 99% chance that he's perfectly fine, just hiding for the time being.”
“Sure, okay.”
“I have to say, Samson is not entirely too pleasing to look at,” Smackle observes. “But I can't help but find him cute and endearing. I have no idea what it is and it confuses me. I'm not sure how I feel about him yet.”
“Stop insulting my dog or I'm kicking you out!”
“She's not gonna kick you out,” Lucas reassures her.
Maya leans against the threshold, folding her arms over the frilly apron around her chest. She looks adorable but she'd probably kick him in the shin if he told her that. “Call my dog ugly one more time and watch me.”
“I'm just making an observation.”
“It was totally objective,” Farkle contributes. “Lucas calls him ugly all the time, too.”
“Thanks, Farkle,” he mumbles with an eye roll.
Maya whirls on him, points the spatula in her hand at him in an accusatory manner, and glares so hard he thinks the house will catch fire. “You wanna sleep outside on Christmas? Is that what's happening right now?”
“No, I don't wanna sleep outside on Christmas, Maya.”
“Just remember,” she says, “I take the dog and the house in the custody battle. You can keep your dollar store harmonica.”
“First of all, we’re not even married,” he reminds her. “Second of all, would you stop being so goddamn dramatic?”
“Riley’s not here yet so somebody's gotta fill in,” she says with a shrug and a grin before spinning back around on her heel to return to the kitchen.
“It's not from the dollar store, by the way!” he calls after her. “It was almost three hundred dollars!”
Her head pops back in. “Why the fuck did you buy a three hundred dollar harmonica that you've never even used? Didn’t anyone tell you we're poor?”
He freezes then, panic taking over. “Oh god, please tell me you didn't sell it at the garage sale last week.”
She brings her shoulders up to her neck, gives him a weak smile. “Fifty bucks from the old lady across the hall with the three cats. It was a steal! You know, back when I thought it was only worth 99 cents.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Lucas drops his head in his hands and feels Samson licking his knuckles a moment after.
“Don't worry, I’ll get it back. I’ll tell her my old flute is worth double.”
“Maya, your old flute is plastic. She’s not stupid.”
“Are you sure? She paid fifty bucks for a dollar store harmonica.”
“Oh my god. Are you even listening to me?"
“Don't worry, babe, it'll be fine,” she says and skips back into the kitchen, only to come back a second later. “While we're on this…that old, chipped wooden box with a bunch of family heirlooms didn't mean much to you, did it?”
“Maya!”
“Kidding!”
Riley brings cherry pie and a wagon full of gifts later on that night, after she'd spent some time with her own family. “Merry Christmas, everybody!”
Maya yells in excitement and runs over to tackle Riley in a hug before holding up a mistletoe above their heads. Riley gives her a peck on the cheek before turning towards the party of people in the living room with a grin. “Where's my favorite boy?”
“Oh that's me – “
Before Zay can continue, Riley picks Samson up into her arms and spins them around.
“Alright, that’s cool, I’mma just stay over here then,” he sniffs and flops back down on the couch next to Lucas, crossing his legs.
“You and me, bro,” Lucas says as they watch both of their girls pay more attention to their dog than to them. Typical.
“Hey, sugar, I’m right over here, whenever you got time to, you know. Say hi or whatever.”
They don't look up.
Lucas tries. “Hey, Maya, the oven’s on fire.”
She gasps, but only because Samson’s jumping on his hind legs so he can reach Riley’s palm.
“Riley, there's a dancing rainbow fish out the window, come look.”
Maya’s rubbing his belly and telling him what a good boy he is right after he sat down when Riley told him to.
“Maya, we just won the lottery. Sixty million dollars and a trip to the Bahamas.”
Really, it's like fucking talking to a brick wall.
Farkle shakes his head as he wraps an arm around Smackle’s waist. “You guys are truly pathetic.”
After they do dinner and presents, the six of them sit around the coffee table for a game of Life, an annual tradition. Maya’s leaning against Lucas’s side, her elf ears abandoned for a messy bun instead, and he's sure she's half-asleep by now. Samson’s by his feet, pretty close to dozing off also, eyelashes fluttering every time Riley gently brushes her fingers through his fur.
“I don't like this game,” Farkle grumbles. “I lost all my money, I have way too many kids, and I don't have health insurance. We're all gonna die.”
“You know this isn't real, right?” says Zay with raised eyebrows.
“Easy for you to say. You're not drowning in debt while trying to juggle kids and a menial job at the same time.”
“Never listen to anyone who says being single sucks.”
“Great, now my wife left me and I’m having a mid-life crisis. That's just great.”
“Maybe we should take a break – “
“No! I will come out of this successful – “
“Farkle,” Zay says gently, like coaxing a scared animal. “Put the little pink baby down. It's time to stop.”
Smackle pats his arm when he groans and throws down his pieces. “I suck at life.”
She clicks her tongue. “That's the Christmas spirit, babe.”
“Alright, I think it's time to go,” Zay announces and stands up, holding his hand out for Riley to grab onto. “Farkle’s depressing the shit out of me.”
The four of them leave after long goodbyes, with promises of getting together again soon when they all have some free time from work and school and obligations.
“That was fun,” Maya mumbles as they settle into bed, Samson in between them.
“Yeah, we should do it again sometime.”
She smiles at him even though her eyes are getting heavier by the second. “I think we've gotten pretty good at this life thing.”
“I agree.”
“I'm really happy.”
He takes her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I'm happy that you're happy.”
“You are seriously going to make me vomit all over this bed.”
“I’m not cleaning that up if you do.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Neither do I, but it was worth a shot.”
She laughs so hard it shakes the bed, which makes Samson stir in his sleep, so she quiets down. But she's looking at him like he single-handedly placed all the stars in the sky, like he's the reason the run rises every morning and sets every evening, like every stupid fucking cliché there is, and he doesn't think he's ever going to get used to that look.
But he's got enough time to try.
“I told you you'd like the dog,” he whispers right before she falls asleep, with one hand curled around Samson, the other curled around his.
He’s not sure if it's even possible to glare with your eyes closed, but he's totally sure that that's exactly what Maya’s doing at the given moment, and he absolutely loves it. “Yeah, you think I can trade you in for another one?”