#Also babies say mrrrp!

[write-it-motherfuckers]

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Not now, kitten

Written for @astrangersummer week 13

Words: 972

Prompt: Cat

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Rated: E

Tags: Explicit sexual content; Fluff; Humor; Awkward sexual situations; Cat dads Steddie

“Pretty thing,” Eddie purrs. His breath tickles the tip of Steve’s cock, overly sensitive and slick with spit and precome. “God, I love when you're like that. You enjoying yourself, honey?” 

Steve hums his approval, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back, eyes closed in bliss. The movement is slow and lazy, and it makes Eddie’s fingers drag along that sweet spot deep inside, the one that makes fireworks explode at the base of his spine and patterns of light dance in the darkness behind his eyelids. Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to the underside of his cock, just below the slit. 

Somebody mewls. 

Eddie laughs, low and pleased. “Love the sounds you make for me, sweetheart.” 

Steve's eyes fly open. Because, see, that wasn't him. 

A pair of big, neon green eyes stares back at him. They glow in the moonlight falling in through the curtains. 

“Eddie…” says Steve. 

Between his legs, Eddie moans. “That's right, baby, say my name.” 

Steve groans, kicking at his back with his heels. 

“No, dumbass, stop it. We've got company.” 

Eddie flinches, fingers bumping Steve’s prostrate. Steve hisses. 

“Oh hey, buddy,” Eddie coos. “What are you doing here?” 

“Mrrrp,” say the eyes. 

Eddie smiles, full of gooey fondness, then turns his attention back to Steve with a wrinkled brow. 

“All that drama just because of the cat, Stevie? You had me afraid it was Buckley again. I mean, I get why you'd want her to have a spare key, but she really needs to learn how to knock if she doesn't wanna see things, especially after-” 

“Excuse me?” Steve snaps. Eddie’s rant barrels to a confused stop. “What do you mean, just because of the cat? This isn't- … You don't- … I can't do this with him staring at me like that.” 

Steve feels Eddie shrug more than he sees it. Having a guy's fingers knuckle-deep up your ass will do that, he guesses. 

“Just leave him, he'll wander off in a minute.” 

“Alfie,” Steve says. “Go away.” 

The tiny gray cat tilts its head at him. “Mrrrewl,” it says. 

Steve groans. “Couldn't follow directions if your life depended on it, huh?” 

“That's because he's a cat, not a dog,” Eddie says, lazily propping his chin up on Steve’s thigh. “They're free spirits. Also, that isn't even his name. Gandalf?” 

The kitten's ears flick. Eddie shoots Steve an obnoxious grin and clears his throat importantly. 

“Take thine leave. My love does not wish for thou to behold him at the pinnacle of his ecstasy.” 

“What the- the pineapple of what?” Steve squawks. 

Gandalf purrs and starts licking his paw. 

“Gandalf, c’mon,” Eddie pleads. “I had a good thing going here.” 

Gandalf gives him an unimpressed side glance, using the wet paw to wash his ear. 

“I told you we should've named him Mittens,” Steve says. “I'd also refuse to answer to that, if I were him.” 

Eddie grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. 

“Ignore him,” he then mumbles, kissing the inside of Steve’s thigh and curling his fingers just so. Steve gasps, eyes fluttering shut without his own conscious doing. “He'll get bored and leave. All you need to focus on right now is this …” 

Steve tries, he really does. Tries to focus on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers scissoring him open, the feeling of Eddie’s tongue teasing at his entrance, the hot, tight sensation pooling at the base of his spine. 

“That's it, baby,” Eddie praises, and adds another finger. Steve gasps, eyes snapping open. 

“Mrrrow,” says Gandalf, inches from his face. 

“Eddie,” Steve whines. 

Eddie sighs, forehead thunking against the mattress. 

“Alright,” he relents, shuffling off the bed and scooping the confused kitten up in his arms. “C'mon, Mitt-randir. You heard your mom, time for you to go.” 

Steve leans against the headboard, gathering the sheets around himself, and watches how Eddie gently deposits Gandalf outside the door. 

“You know,” he says, once it has clicked shut and Eddie has joined him again. Eddie lifts one arm and Steve eagerly slots into the space. “I've been thinking. Maybe we should get a second cat.” 

“What, really?” Eddie chuckles, kissing the top of his head. “Says the guy who didn't even wanna get this one? What're you hoping to achieve, get double cock-blocked?” 

“Shut up, he's grown on me,” Steve grouses. “And maybe … I dunno, I thought that, if he had a friend, he'd be less bored.” 

Eddie gives a thoughtful hum. 

“Sound reasoning, good sir,” he then admits. “I can talk to Wayne, if you wanna. Someone at the trailer park is bound to have kittens at this time of year.” 

“Cool,” Steve says, tracing the black lines of Eddie’s tattoos with his fingers. “Can I name this one? Since it was my idea and all?”

Eddie sighs, burying his face in Steve’s hair. “That's fair, I guess. What noble name do you have in mind for Gandalf's future companion? Socks? Whiskers? Mr Tiddles?” 

“Nah,” Steve smiles. “It thought it would be cool if we got a little brown tabby. Name him Radagast.” 

Eddie goes still. He goes so still, Steve’s afraid he's somehow fallen asleep mid-conversation. Then, he sits up. His eyes are large and bright in the dark room.

“What did you just say?” 

Steve's smile widens. 

“I said-” he starts, but that's as far as he gets before Eddie grabs his face in both hands and crashes their lips together. 

“I love you,” Eddie says when they finally part for breath, leaning their foreheads together, fingers playing with the hair at the base of Steve’s neck. “Have I told you that?” 

“Well,” Steve hums in mock-thought, pulling him in for a brief, open-mouthed kiss before he begins to guide him down towards his spread thighs. “I believe you were about to show me.”

[flutteringfable]

mmgh head full of cael and scara being parents… here’s some tooth rotting fluffy headcanons of them being literally so sweet

scara is always nervous he’s doing something wrong. he doesn’t want gabriel to go through what he did, so he’s incredibly protective but also anxious about his own mannerisms

cael has to reassure him that he’s doing just fine, and that gabriel loves scara

since scara doesn’t need to sleep, he stays up late to take care of gabriel so cael can rest. cael doesn’t mind staying up, but scara insists most of the time.

whenever cael is holding gabriel, they both end up purring.

gabriel makes normal baby noises when he’s little, but he also sometimes meows or makes little curious mrrrp sounds since he’s also a catperson like cael.

the first person to meet gabriel is nahida. cael figures it’ll be only fitting, since scara knows her well enough anyhow

gabriel is literally blessed by the dendro archon

nahida gave cael and scara books to read to gabriel!! one of them is literally a book form of the kittymouche story (with a happy ending where kittymouche meets another cat who keeps him safe from the monsters and they live happily ever after!!)

the next people to meet gabe are kaveh and alhaitham

cael is friends with kaveh, and sort of gets along with alhaitham, but he gets to see gabriel anyway because they had to visit the house to find kaveh

any time kaveh and alhaitham show even the slightest signs that they’re about to start bickering, cael shuts it down pretty fast. (“mind your manners in front of my son, please >:/“)

kaveh passes down his building blocks to gabriel!!

gabriel loves kaveh; even when he was still just a baby he was content to snuggle up in kaveh’s arms and “talk” to him.

cael thinks it’s cute, scara is a little iffy about it but doesn’t mind too much as long as gabe is happy.

gabriel’s first word is “papa,” which is what he calls scara

he and scara were cuddling and reading a book together when he said it, and needless to say, scara nearly melted

when gabriel is old enough to walk, he usually accompanies scara to the akademiya. scara does most of his work in private anyway, so gabriel won’t disrupt anything.

i’m typing as i think so i completely forgot to bring this up, but: gabriel has a doll that scara sewed for him technically before he was even born. scara started the base of it when he and cael found out they were going to have gabriel!

after gabriel was born, scara finished the doll so it would look like him.

gabriel takes it everywhere, and can’t sleep without it

scara likes to show gabriel his own doll that he keeps under his hat, and they sometimes play with them together.

even after gabriel starts sleeping more at night, scara still stays up for a while longer to keep watch over gabe and cael.

gabe gets so many cuddles and kisses from his dads. he is very well loved and taken care of!!

they are just. so cute. and they make me so happy. they’re just a happy little family <3

[from-a-reckless-writer]

1, pretty please?

Lena wakes up with a groan. There's somebody looming over her shaking her shoulder. She buries herself deeper into the pillows.

"Lena, Lena, hey. Wake up, baby."

She grumbles out a grumpy mrrrp sound, before opening her eyes. The sight that greets her should be illegal this early in the morning. Kara is wearing a pastel long sleeves button down, tucked into fitted slacks, her belt waking up all the sleeping neurons in Lena's brain. There's a bag slung over her shoulder, and she's wearing that smile reserved only for Lena. Lena wants to kiss it off her stupid morning person face.

"W-wha- Why're dressed?" Lena slurs, eyes blinking heavily.

"Lena," Kara chuckles, amused, she crouches down, kneels besides the bed, hand moving from Lena's shoulder to cup a cheek. "It's my first day, remember? My first day as CatCo's Editor-in-Chief?"

And, okay, maybe Lena sorta kinda remembers that? She shifts to face Kara, and a soreness spreads across her body, makes itself known. Flashes of last night glimpse through her mind and oh. Oh okay, that explains why she feels tired, why she woke up late.

"That's today?"

"Mhmm, yeah. I didn't wanna wake you. You looked so cute sleeping. But I also didn't want to go without saying goodbye," Kara tells her, thumb rubbing across her skin. She feels warmth blooming in her cheeks at the gesture.

"Ohmmmkay. M'sorry. My brain isn't working right now-" Kara just chuckles at her again. "But m'love you 'n wish you the best 'n uh- g'dluck. You're gonna do s'well. I love you again." And then she goes and turns, tilts her head to kiss Kara's palm. Kara bursts into laughter, shoulders shaking, trying to contain it.

"Wha's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just that- why'd you kiss my palm when you can kiss my lips?"

Oh, oh yeah. Lena can do that now. She doesn't have to hide under 'platonic affectionate gestures', doesn't have to hesitate whether or not she's allowed to touch Kara.

"I-oh. Right. Yes. I can do that now?"

"Yeah, you can, baby."

"M'can do that now. C'mere then. Kara, kiss me please?"

Kara doesn't even let her finish, pressing her lips softly into hers.

"Mhm, that's better than kissing your palm."

[salparadiselost]

The demons being big dangerous cats make me wonder: if you woke one up would they go "mrrrp?" (If they didn't immediately take you down because you never startle a bat lmao)

I’m going to let Dick answer this question. -----

“Hello, loyal viewers. Thank you for tuning into another pulse-pounding episode of ‘Dr. Dickinson’s Demon Discovery Programme’. I am your illustrious host, Dr. Grayson MD PhD of Harvard. Today, we continue our ongoing investigation into today’s most important question: are demons just large cats? Let us go and see if we can gather additional research into this question,” said Dick as he smiled brightly into the camera. He had stolen it from Tim about a month ago and the incubus had yet to find out it was him. Mostly because he suspected Damian and was pursuing that line of allegations. Dick panned the camera around the Manor. It was late afternoon on a Saturday and the windows were letting in soft light. Everything was calm and caught within the overwhelming atmosphere of “naptime”. All the other occupants of the house were sleeping (except Alfred who took the afternoon to shop in the city and get some time for himself) and recovering from late-night patrols. Dick had been sleeping earlier himself, but he usually was the first one awake from the typical mid-day siestas. Which meant he had to find some way to entertain himself until the rest of the house stirred. “Now as my loyal viewers know, I have spent most of my life integrating myself into this specific demon pack. They see me as one of their own and accept me as if I am a demon myself.”

Dick climbed up the stairs and directed himself to the Manor’s family wing. All the doors to everyone’s rooms were closed. He looked at the three rooms he knew were occupied and mentally ‘eeny-meeny-miny-moed’ to choose a door. He went to his randomly chosen door and placed a hand on the doorknob. He returned to talking to the camera in his best David Attenborough impression.

“This is the private den of the second eldest demon packmember. He is of the incubus variety and there are some who call him… Tim.” Dick paused for dramatics and good filmmaking. “Now, Tim is young by demon standards and commonly referred to as an impling by the Heart of his pack. When I show him to you viewer, I’m sure you will also come to the conclusion that he is, in fact, baby. And, perhaps, a cat if our research goes well. Before I enter the den, I must warn you not to approach unfamiliar wild demons in your own research. I am a trained professional. I have spent a majority of my life studying demon behaviourisms and getting to know the individuals within this particular pack. With safety measures out of the way, we can further our research. Let us commerce.” Dick opened the door silently and crept into Tim’s messy room. The space was dim, cool and Dick could instantly feel the relaxing swirl of sleepy incubus emotions. The only part of Tim that was visible was a puff of Tim’s hair sticking out of a blanket burrito. He mumbled as Dick walked in, curling further into the blankets. “Watch as I approach the demon.” Dick focused his video camera on to Tim, zooming in on the tiny sliver of Tim’s face before zooming out again. He crept forward trying to remain silent, but it was hard to sneak up on a Bat. Tim sleepily blinked his eyes open, trilling when he saw Dick. The little ‘mrrp’ made Dick’s heart warm and he didn’t hesitate to slip into Tim’s bed. With gentle hands, he unraveled the demon from his blanket burrito and gathered him in a one armed hug while the other one balanced the camera. The demon began purring instantly and trilled happily again when Dick pulled him close. “Hey Dick,” Tim said, voice rough and still half-asleep. “Why you got a camera?” Dick laughed and pet Tim’s hair gently. He felt the incubus tug at their bond and instinctually begin to amplify the warm and comfortable emotions around them. Tim didn’t usually act so much like an incubus. He had a bad habit of getting in his own head about these things and overthinking what he naturally wanted to do. Tim was so sleepy now; he probably didn’t even realise what he was doing. “I’m conducting research,” Dick whispered, even though he wasn’t even sure whether Tim was listening. The demon was still mostly asleep and seemed keener on cuddling and purring than thinking about cameras. “Wha’ kinda research?” Tim’s voice was slurring together with slumber. “If you’re actually a cat.” Dick was having a hard time keeping the camera straight as Tim nuzzled along the bottom of his jaw. His hair tickled against Dick’s face, but there was no way in Hell Dick was going to pull back. Tim squinted his eyes and frowned. Dick had to hold back a coo at the adorableness of Tim pouting into nothing. “I’m not a cat. Imma Tim,” the demon declared as seriously as his sleepy state would let him. He sighed, seemed to finish his bout of nuzzling and settled his head on Dick’s chest like it was a pillow. Tim’s purrs didn’t stop though, and Dick felt the vibrations shaking in his own chest. “That’s right, smartypants. You’re a Tim.” The demon smiled in satisfaction like he had won an intense argument. He looked like he might say something else, but then he fell asleep while still being half on top of Dick. With the demon curled on top of him, Dick knew that he was effectively trapped until Tim woke up again. Dick chuckled softly petting over Tim’s silky hair soothing him further into sleep. Once he was sure Tim was sleeping, Dick smiled and held the camera up over his head pointing at him and the slumbering demon. “Well, it seems that our research will have to come to an end because, as you can see, a demon has fallen asleep on top of me and I am legally not allowed to move. This, of course, only adds to our theory that demons are actually just large cats. Thank you for joining me on this episode of Dr. Dickinson’s Demon Discovery Programme. Give me a like and hit that subscribe button for more content like this. You can get visit my merch store at the link below and I hope to see you next time. Goodbye!”

[asknarashikari]

Funny minific: this time, Mei suffers a double puppy dragon eyes from both Touma and Ise

Who need Xross Saber to conquer the world when you can conquer your girlfriend with the power of cute

“Mei, c’mon! It’s not easy for me to write when we’re always out there fighting!” Touma pouted at Mei, who currently wasn’t his sweet, loving girlfriend but rather his strict, stern editor. “I just need a bit more time to work on it! Honest!” He pressed his palms together for emphasis.

Mei crossed her arms, unswayed by his arguments. “I know you’re busy fighting, Touma. I also know you and Ren stayed up all night playing video games and trash-talking each other,” she deadpanned. “You know I can’t always give you an extension on your deadlines because I’d get in trouble too.” She sighed. “Look, how far along are you with the manuscript?”

Touma gave her the sheets of paper he already had finished, as well as the collection of post-its where he had written various ideas and notes. In truth, he did have most of it finished already, he just didn’t quite know how to finish the chapter off as smoothly as he wanted.

“Touma, what the hell? I thought you’d have written more than this!” Mei exclaimed, clearly disappointed as she scanned through the couple of chapters he’d written. “Didn’t you say you’d have four or five chapters by this Sunday?”

“I know, I know! I just...”

Working on the sequel to Lost Memory was proving harder than Touma thought, even with all the inspiration in the world literally at his fingertips. Even though he could so clearly see the vision of what he wanted that he could practically taste it, the words to describe them often eluded him. Suffering from writer’s block was bad enough, but to do so when he was writing the climax of the book...

Hence, he had taken to procrastinating, in the hopes that the words would come to him when he wasn’t thinking too much about them.

He heard a whimper by his feet, and Touma sighed, picking up his dragon baby who’d awoken from his nap, sensing his Tou-chan’s distress. “Mrrrp...?”

“I’m sorry, Ise, did we wake you up? Mama was just being mean to me, that’s all.” Touma told the toddling dragon.

“Hey!” Mei protested, “I wasn’t being mean to you! I was doing my job!” she complained.

“Mama, don’t be mean to Tou-chan...” Ise pouted, his puppy-dragon eyes out in full force.

“Yeah, don’t be mean Mama,” Touma repeated, matching Ise’s expression, down to the wide, watery eyes. “I’ll have the chapters I promised by Wednesday. Just three days, please?”

Mei’s eye twitched in reluctance once, twice, then her shoulders sagged as she sighed with resignation. “Alright. Three days.” She agreed. “But no more, okay!” she added, with a fierce tone.

“Okay, okay.” Touma agreed, raising his hands. “Thanks Mei, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, but you owe me big time, mister.” Mei warned him. 

“I’m sure I can make it worth your while,” Touma said, waggling his brows.

Mei hit him with his papers. “Not until you finish your chapters, idiot.”

[softlass27]

Aaron Week Day 5: “You tricked me!”

AO3 link here

Aaron Dingle is not a cat person. He has never been a cat person – give him a happy, energetic dog he can play fetch with any day.

So why won’t this furry little shit leave him alone?

One evening a few weeks ago, he’d been sat in his living room, minding his own business, when he looked up from his NME magazine to see an orange face watching him from his balcony.

Letting out a startled yelp that he was glad no one heard, Aaron had stared at the ginger tabby cat in the doorway. The cat had stared back. Aaron narrowed his eyes. The cat narrowed its eyes right back at him.

Shaking his head, he’d tilted the magazine a little higher so that he blocked his view of the fur ball outside. By the time he’d finished reading it, he lowered the pages to see an empty balcony. The cat was gone. He forgot all about it.

Until the next evening. It had been warmer that night, and Aaron had left the balcony door open for a cooling breeze. He’d been pottering about in the kitchen, making himself some beans on toast, when he heard a quiet “mrow” behind him.

“What the – ”

Aaron had whirled around to see the same ginger tabby – at least he thought it was the same ginger tabby – sitting innocently on the floor behind him.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

The cat licked a paw primly.

“You don’t live here, get out.”

Nothing.

Aaron sighed, dropping the tins of beans on the counter before gingerly picking the cat up, praying it didn’t have fleas, and putting it out on the balcony. As he quickly slid the door shut behind him, the cat looked at him with an outraged expression on its face.

“I see that collar round your neck, go to your own home!”

Instead the cat rolled to its side, putting on a real show of stretching out languidly and making itself comfortable. Essentially a massive fuck you right to Aaron’s face.

Aaron snorted. “Whatever.”

*

So now he’s got himself in a situation where this ginger nightmare appears on his balcony every day without fail. Always staring at Aaron, giving him grief and trying to mess with his head. It’s a little like having a tiny, fluffy stalker.

The point of no return comes on the day the damn thing learns how to open the sliding balcony door by itself (the lock broke months ago and he hasn’t gotten around to doing anything about it), and Aaron comes out of his bedroom to see it sitting in the kitchen sink. It hisses when Aaron tries to move it, and Aaron very nearly hisses back.

Despite his less-than welcoming attitude, the thing never takes the hint, returning over and over again.

“Why me, eh?” Aaron asks as he scratches the animal behind the ears one day (probably a mistake). “All the flats you could go to in this building, why’s it my doorstep you darken?”

*

Aaron trudges through the entrance to his building one Friday night, shaking rainwater out of his hair. It's been a week of long shifts at the garage where he works, topped off with the day from hell, one stupid customer after another coming through like the place had a revolving door.

Adam texted him earlier, trying to get him to come on a night out, and his mother’s also been trying to get him to come to the village for his tea, but he’s ignoring them both. All he wants to do is get into his flat, collapse on his bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

As he walks up the stairs to his floor, he hears a familiar arrogant voice coming from above him, and mentally curses. The last thing he wants to do is run into Tall Blond Arsehole right now, but there’s no escape route.

Tall Blond Arsehole had moved into a flat on the floor above Aaron’s a few weeks ago – the penthouse. The first time Aaron had seen him, the bloke had been on his phone and been coming into the building just as Aaron was leaving. He’d been walking at top speed and had bumped Aaron had on the shoulder as they had passed each other.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” Aaron had grumbled, just loud enough for the man to hear him.

The man barely paused, throwing a quick glare over his shoulder and snapping “You watch it, mate.” before returning to his phone conversation and disappearing up the stairs.

They hadn’t spoken since that morning, and that suited Aaron just fine. Tall Blond Arsehole doesn’t seem to talk to anyone in the building, always on that bloody phone yelling at some poor sod named Jimmy, nattering on about contracts, deals and meetings. Nothing more than a boring businessman with an over-inflated sense of his own importance.

(He’s also incredibly fit, but that’s by the by.)

Now, Tall Blond Arsehole comes breezing down the flight of stairs, dressed in one of his usual sharp suits and barely sparing Aaron a glance as he passes by him. Aaron rolls his eyes, before continuing up the stairs and practically falling through the door to his flat.

He shuffles down the hallway to his bedroom, not even stopping to take his hoodie and jeans off before collapsing on top of the covers.

“Mrrrp.”

Aaron’s eyes fly open instantly and he rips the duvet back to reveal a curled up orange ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He shoots the cat an incredulous look. “My bed now?”

The demonic creature just uncurls and glares at him, as if Aaron’s the one who invaded its space, rather than the other way around.

“How did you even – you know what, fuck it. M’too knackered to give a shit. Do whatever you want.”

He slides under the duvet and lets his eyes fall shut. A few moments later, he feels slight movement next to him, and then soft warmth pressing against him. He falls asleep with the cat purring against his chest.

*

He awakes to knocking at the door. Blearily opening his eyes, Aaron realises that it’s much later now, the room pitch black. Too late to move.

Determined to ignore the noise – whatever the hell this person wants will have to wait – he rolls over until his face hits something soft and fluffy.

“Jesus Christ!” He jerks up and fumbles to switch the lamp on, the low light revealing the ginger nightmare still lying in his bed. “Oh God, you’re still here.”

The cat paws at the strings of Aaron’s hoodie, seemingly unconcerned by the fact it had nearly given him a heart attack. The knocking at the door starts up again. It’s louder this time and a quick glance at his phone tells him it’s nearly two o’clock in the bloody morning. For fuck’s sake.

Aaron staggers out into the living room and flings the door opening roughly, ready to tell whoever it is exactly where to go, only to find Tall Blond Arsehole standing in front of him.

He looks different to usual, smart clothes swapped for a soft-looking blue t-shirt and grey pair of jogging bottoms. His hair has lost its neat style, sticking up in all directions as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and instead of looking cocky, his entire being seems to be full of panic and distress.

“Uh… ” The furious words Aaron had been about to bark die on his throat, and he vaguely wonders if he’s still asleep and this is just part of some weird dream.

“Oh… it’s you,” the man says, a hint of awkwardness creeping in his expression.

“Er, yeah. What’s up?”

“Um, I’m sorry, I know it’s really late… ”

“It’s okay,” Aaron finds himself saying without meaning to. Christ, he must be going soft.

“I’m just… I’m looking for my cat. He’s a ginger tabby, has a blue collar and I can’t find him anywhere. Have you seen him by any chance?”

That little fucker.

Aaron grabs the man’s arm and pulls him into the living room.

“Wait here a sec.”

Aaron jogs back to his bedroom and picks up the cat, who rubs its head under his chin (probably thinks it’s getting a cuddle), and returns to the living room.

“Pippin!” Tall Blond Ars – okay, maybe just Tall Blond for now – gasps, taking the cat from Aaron’s arms and cuddling him to his chest. “You absolute demon.”

The cat – Pippin – yowls loudly, its head turning to Aaron with a look he can only identify as betrayal. The damn thing barely reacts when Tall Blond fusses over him happily, stroking his fur with a thumb and pressing relieved kisses to his head.

Tall Blond finally looks up at him with shining eyes, and Aaron swears he feels his heart skip a beat. Shit.

“I’m – God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know where – I thought he might’ve – ” he rambles quickly, cradling the cat like a baby, and Aaron wonders how long his neighbour has been frantically searching for his pet demon. “I know he likes to go walkabout, but he hasn’t come home in days and… Sorry if he’s been a bother.”

Aaron frowns. “What? Days? No, he was just… oh.” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “He normally just comes and goes, lets himself out. I haven't been home much these last few days, I didn’t realise he’d been staying.”

His gaze drifts down to Pippin, who now looks impossibly smug. “You tricked me, you little stowaway!”

Pippin sneezes unapologetically.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, before Aaron asks, “Pippin? Cute name. Doesn’t fit him at all.”

Tall Blond's face twitches into a smile. It makes his eyes crinkle in a way that has Aaron’s stomach doing somersaults, and Jesus Christ, how had he not noticed those freckles before?

“Yeah, it’s er… it’s from Lord of the Rings.”

“Oh. Never seen it.”

“You’ve never – ” Tall Blond’s eyes widen, scandalised. “You’re missing out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well, thanks for having him over… even if you didn’t know it? And sorry again.”

“S’no bother. At least now I know who to call when he knocks my plants off the windowsill.”

The smile drops off the man’s face and he looks down at Pippin.

“Pip, mate!” He scolds Pippin like he’s a naughty child, and the cat meows back at him angrily. “What the hell, we talked about this!”

It’s ridiculous. This attractive man and his argumentative cat are both ridiculous, and Aaron can’t help laughing slightly hysterically.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. Again. How much do I owe you?”

“Mate, don’t worry about it.” Aaron waves away the man’s protest. “Honestly, I don’t care, they were just some cheap B&Q ones my mum forced me to get. Said my place needed brightening up or summat. Glad to have an excuse to be rid of them, if I’m honest, I’m hopeless at keeping plants alive.”

“Okay, if you’re sure… ” He still doesn’t look happy, though. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

The words fly out of his mouth before Aaron can stop them. “Buy me a pint if you like?”

The man blinks at him, before his mouth curls into a small (flirtatious?) smile. “A pint it is.”

“Okay. Great. Uhm, I’m Aaron, by the way,” Aaron smiles back as he opens the door so they can step into the corridor.

“Oh. Robert.” He gestures to the squirming cat. “And you know Pippin.”

“Good to finally have a name for him, I’ve just been calling him ginger nightmare most of the time.” He decides not to share what he’d been calling Robert up until now.

Robert's surprised laugh echoes loudly in the hallway and he presses a fist to his mouth to muffle it. Aaron looks at him, helplessly fond, and can’t help but wonder how the man he’s been silently hating for weeks on end and this man giggling in his pyjamas can possibly be the same person.

“I dunno, that’s pretty accurate,” Robert says eventually, still chuckling. “Well, I… should let you sleep. And thanks again, I know this was a bit… ”

“Random?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay.”

“So can I… pick you up tomorrow night for that drink? Around seven?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. Night, then.”

Aaron nods, watching Robert walk towards the staircase. They smile at each other one last time, and Robert disappears upstairs, Pippin’s meows still faintly audible.

Before he goes back to bed, Aaron spends twenty minutes scrolling through his phone for the best cat toy he can find. He owes Pippin a thank you present.