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“Babe. Baby. Sweetheart. Light of my life and best boyfriend in the entirety of Las Vegas. Keeper of my affections. Beneficiary of my love.”
“We’re not getting another cat, Kent.” Jeff doesn’t even look up from his book ( Mini Farming: Self-Sufficiency on ¼ Acre ) when he speaks, but Kent isn’t deterred.
“But we only have two! It’s not like we have so many that they need their own room or anything,” Kent says.
Jeff does look away from his book this time and meets Kent’s eyes, one brow raised in question. “The cats do have their own room, babe.”
“Only because we don’t use that room for anything else! It’s not like we bought this house with the intention of having a cat room.”
“Kent.”
“Fine. Can we at least go to the shelter and look at kittens?”
“Is this ‘looking at kittens’ or ‘guilt Jeff into adopting another animal because we can’t just leave it here sad and alone’?”
Kent has the grace to look halfway sheepish at that before righting himself in his chair, nearly knocking over the lamp on the side table in the process, and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor that I’m only going to look at the kittens and I won’t ask you to adopt one.”
Jeff narrows his eyes at him for a few seconds before sighing. “Alright, fine,” he says, closing his book and setting it on the coffee table. “But I’m holding you to your promise. Two cats is plenty.”
“I disagree, but I’ll take it,” Kent says with a grin. He blows a quick kiss at Jeff before getting up to grab his coat, and Jeff can’t help but smile.
-
Three and a half hours later finds two professional hockey players laying flat on their stomachs on their living room floor as they attempt to coax two tiny kittens out of the cardboard carrier. There are two bowls of wet food and a few feathery cat toys sitting in front of them, and eventually one of them decides to venture out, enticed by the smell.
“What are we gonna name them?” Jeff says, voice soft. The first kitten, a black and orange calico, is now sniffing a bowl of food while her brother, pure black, follows her out cautiously.
“I think we should call him Binx,” Kent says, nodding his head toward where the black kitten is now dipping his paw into the bowl of food rather than eating it.
“You’re such a nerd for Halloween.”
“But you love it,” Kent says, leaning over and kissing Jeff on the side of the head.
“Yeah, I guess I do.” When Kent catches his gaze he feels like his heart could explode. Jeff isn’t known for his eloquent words, but Kent can read everything in his eyes.
“We should call the other one Picasso,” Jeff says after a minute. Kent’s so caught-up in his thoughts that it takes him a second to process what he’s said. “She reminds me of that one painting, Tete d’une Femme Lisant. ”
“I’m a nerd for Halloween, and you’re a nerd for art. This is perfect.”
“I still don’t know how you managed to convince me to adopt two cats with you,” Jeff says after a few minutes. “Actually no, I do know. You gave me that fucking adorable pout of yours and I couldn’t stand seeing you sad.”
Kent cracks a smile and knocks his head into Jeff’s gently. “In my defense, I said I wouldn’t ask you to adopt one. I didn’t say anything about two.”
Jeff lets out a little huff of air and pretends to glare at Kent, but the corners of his mouth are turned up, and the familiar warmth behind his eyes makes Kent feel like this is where he wants to be forever. Their legs are tangled together as they lie pressed up seamlessly against each other, and as they watch the two kittens explore their new home Kent has never felt more loved.