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Mac + Cheese

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary: Mac struggles to readjust to civilian life after the army, so Jack surprises him with a furry friend to help him out. Unfortunately, Mac's allergic to dogs.

Characters: Mac, Jack, a dog named Cheese

Words: 5,343

TW: mentions of PTSD

Note: Okay, okay, so this might be more fluff than whump, but there is an allergic reaction, so it counts, right? :) This is another late Febuwhump entry, from when I got covid and couldn't finish it on time. Also, a quick note – it is never a good idea to buy a pet as a surprise for anyone. As Jack realizes in this story, pets are a commitment, living creatures, and a person really needs to be prepared for the responsibility of having a pet before getting one. So in no way is this story encouraging you to surprise someone with a dog. It's just meant to be cute. Okay, PSA over. :) Hope you enjoy the story!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Mac hadn't had a proper night's sleep in over four weeks. He'd tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming. Every day, MacGyver's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant. Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him. This tour hadn't been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past …

Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.

And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy. Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been of losing his life in Afghanistan. That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas. That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered where the jobs were. Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.

Jack had tried to help the best that he could. He'd been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac's place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn't be alone. He'd tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he'd learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important. And he didn't talk about himself at all.

Jack knew there was a lot to unpack. Hell, Mac's C.O. had been killed in front of him. The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one. He'd nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid. Fresh out of school, hadn't even finished college before joining the army. He'd seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age. His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.

And now he was back home, and everything was different. Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it. He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn't the same. He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes. The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn't adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.

Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do. What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac's childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.

Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn't try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and take dumps in his backyard. Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.

***

Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion. He hadn't had a chance to run it by Mac's oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn't mind a new addition to the household. Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.

It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined. He'd tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn't looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go. Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now. So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy. The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal. If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.

The dog's name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks. Also, Jack couldn't get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?

***

As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.

"Jack!" Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Who's this?" Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over. He watched as Mac scratched Cheese's furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog's neck.

"This," Jack said, "is your new best friend."

Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes. "What did you do to Bozer?"

Jack tried to act like he wasn't offended that Bozer had been Mac's go-to on the "best friend" front. "Nothing."

"Then are you leaving me?" Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac's voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.

"No, man, I don't mean it like that! Cheese ain't replacing anybody, he's just the newest member of the family!"

A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac's lips. "You got me a dog?" He cocked his head. Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side. "I'm sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?"

Jack nodded proudly.

Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously. "Did you name him that?"

Jack's nod turned into a vigorous shake. "No, that's what he was called at the shelter, man. It helped me pick him out for ya. It was like fate."

"Fate?" Mac looked like he really didn't want to know.

"Mac and Cheese, hoss."

"No," Mac said shortly. "Just… no."

***

Mac ended up keeping the name.

It wasn't that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else. Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind. Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?

"Besides," Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, "Mac and Cheese belong together, man. Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I'll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle." He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn't help but grin. "Just a limp noodle."

***

Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry. Mac didn't have nightmares, mostly because he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable. It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac's sleepless jitters.

Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn't practical for him to have a dog. Bozer didn't know about Cheese, for one. Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home. But Mac didn't just want to spring a pet on his roommate. Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn't affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well. Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn't prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of PetSmart on his way back from the shelter. Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?

Peña had died on his watch, after all. How long until his dog got hurt because of him?

It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.

Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.

Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese. It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also the one Mac was determined to ignore at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started. He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he'd held out hope he'd grow out of it someday. The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.

No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog. There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on. And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.

Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.

***

Mac finally fell asleep around four in the morning, and woke up close to noon with a warm, furry head on his chest. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through – at first, he thought it was sweat, but as he gently extricated himself from underneath his new bed buddy, he quickly realized it was, in fact, drool. A great glob of it trailed from the puddle on Mac's chest up to Cheese's slightly parted mouth. Mac wrinkled his nose. "Gross," he whispered fondly, then shuffled into the bathroom to take a shower.

He felt like crap.

His nose and sinuses were packed, his head ached, his eyes stung, and when he stripped off his shirt, he noticed a red patch of welts where the drool had bled through. The second he laid eyes on the rash, the itching started, and it took every ounce of his training and willpower not to scratch. Instead, he turned the water on hot and scrubbed, but the itching didn't go away. The steam did clear his sinuses a bit, so he counted that as a win.

The click-clack of claws on tile announced that he had a visitor. Mac had left the bathroom door slightly cracked, and Cheese must have shoved his way in. Mac, in the middle of washing his hair, peeked around the shower curtain to see the dog sitting near the shower, his furry butt parked right on Mac's towel. Mac could have sworn the towel had been hanging up – Cheese must have pulled it down.

Cheese's tail started thumping against the floor as soon as Mac made his appearance, but the retriever scrambled to his feet, backed up a few panicked steps, and let out a tiny whine when he saw Mac's hair, covered in shampoo bubbles and sticking out at every angle. Mac couldn't help but chuckle at the dog's antics, but he did his best to smooth down his unfamiliar hair. "Hey, bud, it's just me, your old pal Mac!" When Cheese still looked uncertain, Mac ducked back under the water, rinsed the suds out, and poked his head back out. His hair was now soaked through and plastered to his head, but he must have looked more like himself, because Cheese skipped forward, let out a chipper bark, and turned a full circle before flopping back down onto the towel.

"You might just be the cutest dog I've ever met," Mac observed. With his stuffy nose, though, it sounded more like, You just bight be the cutest dog I'b eber met. He grimaced, coughed at a tickle building in his throat. "Too bad I can't breathe when you're around."

Mac finished his shower and trailed water across the floor on his quest to find a new towel since the last thing he needed was to rub himself down with more dog hair after Cheese had used his as a dog bed. Though he felt fairly miserable, he and his new friend passed a pleasant enough afternoon. Mac tried to make eggs and bacon. He ended up undercooking the eggs and burning the bacon. He was going to throw away the truly inedible bits, but Cheese blinked up at him with his big, sad eyes, and Mac couldn't resist. Cheese inhaled the extra crispy bacon bits that Mac sprinkled on top of his kibble, and then devoured the dog food like he'd never eaten before in his life and had no idea if he'd ever eat again. Watching Cheese eat reminded Mac semi-fondly of Jack at that cheap pizza place he'd dragged Mac to a few days after they got back home. Very messy, lots of gross chewing noises, but with so much joy and passion that Mac couldn't help but grin.

He took Cheese out to do his business, and the sight of the dog romping around in the grass almost made him forget how awful he felt. He did laugh, long and hard, when Cheese stumbled over his own front paws in a desperate bid to snap at a butterfly. The dog took the opportunity to flop over on his back and roll around heartily in the dirt. Mac stopped laughing when his chuckles turned to wheezes.

Mac had planned to tinker with his newest project in the garage to occupy his time, but after the failed breakfast, his appetite and last reserves of energy vanished, and, chest tight, skin itchy, eyes streaming, and sinuses stuffed, he flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. A rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond was on, and he didn't feel like changing the channel, so he slumped there, sick and itching and barely able to breathe, and half-watched a show he'd never really been too crazy about in the first place.

Jack came over a few hours later. He let himself in, as he had gotten in the habit of doing. He had a couple of paper grocery bags in his arms, and a huge grin on his face as he kicked the door open and crooned in a sickly-sweet baby voice, "Where's my new buddy? Where's my Cheesey Weezy?"

Cheese, who had been curled up on top of Mac's feet at the base of the couch, sprang to life at the sound of Jack's voice. He barked enthusiastically, clamored for the door, and knocked two picture frames off of the coffee table with his wildly wagging tail. Jack dropped the bags on the table – Mac heard the squeak of a dog toy from inside – and dropped to his knees. Cheese, like a pretty girl in a cheesy rom com, threw himself into Jack's open arms and, unlike most rom coms (at least that Mac had ever seen), proceeded to lick every inch of Jack's face with his sloppy, warm tongue. To his credit, Jack just squirmed and laughed at the dog's ministrations, clearly enjoying the attention. When he glanced over at Mac, though, Jack gently scooted Cheese away and got to his feet. He made his way over to Mac and looked down at him, brow furrowed.

"You look like hell."

"It's not so bad," Mac lied.

"Oh really?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "It's 'dot' so bad, huh?"

Cheese trotted across the room with a flurry of clattering claws, and tried to jump into Mac's lap. Mac laughed, doing his best to protect himself from the clumsy paws of a dog who didn't know how big he actually was. "Down, boy! You're way too big to be a lap dog!"

Cheese didn't exactly listen, but paraded right over Mac, big paws digging painfully into his stomach and legs. The dog wedged himself in the small space between Mac and Jack, attempted to turn in a circle, realized he didn't have enough room, and then flopped down contentedly with his front half on Mac's lap and his rear end on Jack's.

"He's a heavy thing, ain't he?" Jack grinned, reaching over and giving Cheese a loving scratch between the ears. Cheese's tail went crazy with excitement. Jack chuckled and then returned his attention to Mac. "What's wrong with you, hoss? You got a cold or somethin'?"

Mac glanced down at the dog resting his head on his knee, caught a glimpse of sweet, innocent brown eyes blinking up at him, and decided against telling Jack the truth. As much as Jack adored Cheese, Mac knew that if he found out the truth, he'd insist that they find Cheese a new home. And although Mac didn't love the idea of living the rest of his life feeling like he had a constant head cold, the presence of the dog in his lap was so comforting, so warm and safe, that he didn't have the heart to give him up.

"Yeah," he fibbed. "Or something."

***

Later that afternoon, with a half-eaten box of pizza on the coffee table and Die Hard playing on the TV, Jack glanced over at his young companion, who had drifted off with Cheese snuggled up against his his side. The dog was sleeping too, the most adorable snores Jack had ever heard whistling out of the black button nose.

"A cold, huh?" Jack muttered, scooting a bit closer to his friend. Mac's response to Jack's questions earlier hadn't set right with him, but Jack hadn't pressed the issue then. Now, though, he pressed the back of his hand gently against Mac's forehead, freezing when Mac stirred, then relaxing when he stilled. No fever. Jack pulled back, then paused when he caught a glimpse of red peeking out from the collar of Mac's shirt. Frowning, Jack pulled back the collar just enough to confirm that what he was looking at was an angry rash.

"A cold, my ass," Jack groused. He was about to pull back when a peculiar sound caught his attention, something that he couldn't quite identify but that just felt wrong. He grabbed the remote, muted the movie, and listened closely. There! In the dead space between Cheese's snores, a strained, grumbling wheeze accompanied the rise and fall of MacGyver's reddened chest. "Oh, Mac," he muttered, putting two and two together. He could see the full picture now – he recognized the signs of a bad allergic reaction when he saw one. He couldn't be frustrated at Mac for lying to him, though, not when he could see, plain as day, the reason why Mac had pretended he had a cold. It lay there between them on the couch, golden fur and brown eyes and cold black nose and a tail that never quit.

"Oh, boy," Jack breathed. "What have I done?" Why the hell had he not thought to check to see if Mac had allergies before he'd gone and adopted him a damn dog? Jack vaguely remembered Mac talking about a dog he'd had as a kid, with a nerd name he couldn't remember, and supposed he'd just assumed allergies wouldn't be a problem. Clearly, he had been wrong.

"Okay, buddy," Jack said, waking Cheese up with a big kiss on the top of his head and a gentle nudge on the butt. "You're gonna have to get up now. I know, I know, you're comfy."

Once a disgruntled Cheese had clicked off to check his food bowl for the umpteenth time, Jack shook Mac awake.

It wasn't a violent awakening, like many had been since returning home, but Mac's eyes did snap open with a sense of urgency, and he stared blankly around at his surroundings like he didn't know where he was for several long moments. Then, finally, he locked eyes with Jack, took a deep, wheezing breath, and coughed. "Where's Cheese?"

Jack shot Mac a sympathetic smile. "I think he's stress eating 'cause I kicked him off the couch. Do animals do that?"

Mac shrugged miserably, seeming younger than Jack had ever seen him. The kid looked awful – his eyes were red and watery like he'd been crying, and his whole face had a concerning puffiness to it. With his raw, bright red nose, he could have been trying out for the part of Rudolph in a Christmas pageant. The rash was spreading, too; Jack could see it reaching up his neck. "Jack," he said in a resigned voice that was almost a whine.

Jack knew what was coming. "Yeah, bud?"

"I'm allergic to dogs."

Jack let out a rueful chuckle. "No kidding. Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

Mac blinked over at Jack with big, blue, swollen eyes. "You were so excited about the surprise. And I haven't had a pet since Archimedes, when I was a kid. Besides, back then, my allergies weren't so bad. I think they've gotten worse."

Jack sighed, ran a hand over his face, and said heavily. "You know you can't keep Cheese now, right?"

A great sadness bloomed in Mac's expression. "Jack… I love that dog."

"I know you do. And I'm so sorry, man, I shouldn't have tried to surprise you with a dog. I mean, that's a whole-ass commitment, and I didn't even ask Bozer if you had any allergies first! I was just…" He trailed off, not sure how much he wanted to say. Not sure how much Mac would want to hear. MacGyver had never been one to discuss emotions.

But Mac seemed to have caught on. He offered Jack a small smile. "You were trying to help, I know. I knew it from the moment you introduced me to Cheese." A weighted pause. "Jack, I… I know I haven't been easy to be around this past month. But I promise, I'm working on it. The nightmares are easing a little, and I–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, cowboy," Jack cut his friend off. "You think I got you a dog to make you easier to deal with? You're not a burden, Mac. You're just carryin' a lot of your own. But that's what I'm here for. To help." He swallowed, his mind wandering back to his own experiences after his worst tour. "I've been where you are. I know how difficult this transition is, and after everything you've seen, well, I – I guess I just thought you needed a friend to help you through it, that's all."

Mac frowned in confusion. "Jack… I already had a friend like that. You."

Jack twisted his hands together in a rare display of nervousness. "I… I just couldn't tell if I was doing enough. I felt helpless. And I read this article about therapy dogs, and you're basically a golden retriever yourself–"

A congested, startled laugh cut Jack off. "Excuse me? I'm basically a what?"

A genuine smile overtook the uncertainty on Jack's face. "Oh, you know. Blonde, big, innocent eyes. Loyal to a fault. Full of energy, easily distracted." He paused, felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. "And a damn good companion."

Mac scratched the side of his face, deep in thought. He didn't speak for a few seconds. Then – "I… I genuinely don't know how to respond to that, Jack. I mean, you said some really great things, but you still called me a dog."

Jack grinned wolfishly. "At least I didn't call you a bitch."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Yeah, there's that."

A companionable silence, broken only by the sound of Mac's strained breaths and the messy slurp of a dog lapping up water in the background. Then Mac added uncomfortably, his long fingers fidgeting in his lap, "Thank you for always being there for me, man. And I do appreciate the gesture. I…" His eyes misted up, and this time, it wasn't from allergies. "I really, really wanted to keep Cheese."

Another pang of guilt twisted Jack's gut. He felt bad for Mac and for the dog that had already bonded with him. At least he knew that there was another interested party, that either way Cheese would go to a loving home. "I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, Mac. But if it helps, there's another interested family on the waiting list, if it didn't work out with you. They've got kids."

Mac nodded, but he still looked downcast.

"Hey, brother, before we deal with anything else, we need to get some drugs in you. You're wheezing pretty bad there."

Mac nodded, distractedly rubbing his chest. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to breathe."

Jack got up and walked to the bathroom, carefully stepping over Cheese who had fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He came back after rummaging through the medicine cabinet, armed with hydrocortisone, Benadryl, a glass of water, and a wet, warm cloth. Mac groaned when he saw the Benadryl. "I'm going to sleep for the rest of the evening," he complained.

"Yeah, well, you might get to breathe for the rest of the evening too," Jack shot back unsympathetically. He dropped two bright pink pills in Mac's reluctant palm and shoved the glass of water into his other hand. He made sure to watch closely to check that Mac didn't try to pull a fast one over on him, but the kid did actually swallow the Benadryl – a testament to how truly bad he felt. Then Jack instructed Mac to lie back and closed his eyes, and placed the warm cloth over his eyes and forehead. "I'm going to unbutton the top of your shirt, okay?" he warned, and Mac nodded sleepily. Jack undid the first few buttons, revealing the red, swollen rash beneath. "Geez, kid. You look like you got bit by a radioactive lobster." Mac snorted, but didn't dignify the joke with a further response. Jack gently spread the hydrocortisone cream across Mac's chest, rebuttoned the shirt, and stood back to admire his handiwork.

Mac was already asleep and snoring. Jack smiled indulgently at his friend, glad he was in for some uninterrupted, hopefully peaceful sleep. He also planned to keep a close watch on the kid over the next few hours, because if that rash or wheezing didn't get any better, Mac was going to a clinic for a steroid shot whether he wanted to or not.

Jack left Mac lying there and moved to the hallway, lowering himself to the floor next to Cheese. "Hey, bud," he said as the dog woke up, his tail already approaching the sound barrier. He gave the golden retriever a warm hug and got a few slimy kisses in return. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, you know," he said, petting the golden head in a show of comfort – for himself or the dog, he didn't know. "I was just trying to help my buddy. But I promise you, the family that you're going to is going to love you as much as Mac does." A pause, then a soft kiss on a furry head. "As much as I do." Thump, thump, thump went the tail. "Man," said Jack. "It really sucks this didn't work out. After all, who doesn't love Mac and Cheese?"

***

Mac and Jack dropped off Cheese at the shelter together the next day, Mac still sounding like he had a cold but looking more like himself overall. The family next in line to adopt the dog met them there, and the look in the little girl's eyes when she saw her new best friend was almost enough to outweigh the pain and guilt in Jack's heart.

Mac got down on one knee to say goodbye to his new buddy. Jack gave a nervous chuckle and tried to pull him up by the back of his shirt. "Mac," he hissed, "You're going to go into amphibian shock if you keep petting that dog."

"Anaphylactic," Mac corrected instantly. "And no, I'm not. I will, however, be taking more Benadryl when I get home." Then Mac proceeded to wrap his arms around Cheese's furry neck and bury his face in warm fur. Cheese wagged his tail and licked Mac's ears and neck and face when he resurfaced. Mac laughed jovially, and Jack grinned down on him, his worry fading at the joy he saw in his young friend. The laugh turned into a cough, then a sneeze, and Jack really did haul Mac up by his shirt. "Okay, hoss, that's enough." Mac pouted, but obeyed. His face was already looking like a tomato.

The little girl's mom stepped forward to take the leash, a sympathetic look in her eyes. She glanced over at her husband, a query in her gaze, and after a moment, he nodded. "Hey, listen," she said, reaching out and giving Mac a kind pat on the shoulder, "I'm really sorry you couldn't keep Cheese. But if your allergies can handle a visit every so often, maybe we can meet up in the park sometime, let you take him for a walk?"

Mac's miserable, beet-red face lit up with more than a terrible allergic reaction. His smile was infectious, and Jack found himself grinning like an idiot, too. "Yeah," Mac said. "I'd love that."

The woman smiled, then the family turned away, heading into the shelter to complete their paperwork. Jack nudged Mac in the side. "You ready for some Benadryl?"

"Actually," Mac said, and the wheeze had infected his voice. "I think a steroid shot might be in order."

Jack grimaced. "That bad, huh?"

Mac didn't answer, but the rash spoke for him.

"C'mon, ya limp noodle," Jack said, slinging his arm around Mac's shoulders and propelling his allergy-laden buddy toward the car. "Let's get you to a doctor."

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