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Neil is coming back from getting groceries, arms full of heavy bags because he never has the patience to make more than one trip up from the car. They make a satisfying thunk on the ground as he drops them in front of the door to dig his keys from his pocket.
Before he unlocks the door, Neil takes a moment to run the tip of a finger over the metal ridges of the key he has long since memorized. Despite all the time that’s passed, it still brings a smile to his face.
Neil props the door open with his foot as he bends to retrieve the bags he’d dropped, only moving to open the door more once they’re firmly in his grasp again. He opens the door only as much as it takes to squeeze himself inside, because King will take any chance given to her to make a break for it. Andrew sighs whenever it happens and makes some comment under his breath about “running away running in the family.”
Neil is thus surprised when he’s able to enter the apartment without a furry body trying to squeeze past his leg—and there’s no sign of King in the entryway, either. Frowning slightly to himself, Neil moves further inside and calls out a soft “I’m home.”
There’s no response, even though Andrew’s keys and wallet are still on the little shelf by the door. Neil drops the groceries in the kitchen and walks to the living room, where he’s greeted by the sight of Sir curled up on… what seems to be a pile of Neil’s track shorts?
“What the hell?” Neil mutters. “Where’d you get those, hmm?”
Sir blinks slowly at him and starts to pur.
Neil bends over to scratch beneath her chin. “We spend all that money getting you a fancy cat bed, and you curl up on those?” Sir moves her head so that he’s scratching a more favorable spot, and, if anything, burrows the rest of her body deeper into the pile of clothes.
“I see how it is,” Neil sighs, resigned to the betrayal, and stands up so that he can go and find Andrew and King.
Andrew’s not on the balcony, nor in the bathroom. A quick peek into the study/guest bedroom shows that that's empty as well.
That leaves their bedroom at the end of the hall. When Neil enters the doorway, he thinks for a moment that Andrew isn't there either. Then he notices the slight movement of the pile of laundry on the bed, and then he sees King wiggle her head out of the pile to look at him. She lets out a soft meow in greeting, to which a hand pokes out from under a mountain of sheets and towels to pull her back in.
"Andrew?" Neil questions, his heart feeling full in his chest.
"The pest was letting the warmth out," comes the muffled response.
"The warmth?"
"Clean laundry, Neil. From the dryer. Do keep up."
"Oh. And you're not concerned about the cat hair?" he says, moving to perch on the edge of the mattress.
"I only hastened the inevitable. It would have happened sooner or later."
That's true—even with the roomba, frequent dusting, and the judicious use of lint rollers, Neil thinks that there's not a surface in the apartment or a piece of clothing he owns that doesn't have cat hair on it.
It’s worse for Andrew, whose black clothes clearly broadcast every single strand. Neil won’t tell Andrew this, but he thinks it’s hilarious how easily the cats tear down the bad reputation Andrew projects for others.
"Ah, I see. Were you aware that Sir has absconded with a pile of my pants?"
"I had wondered where she went."
Neil hums in acknowledgement and looks at the pile calculatingly. Based on where Andrew's hand was and his knowledge of how Andrew likes to curl up, he can approximate where Andrew's head is under the pile. He carefully shifts the laundry until he uncovers blond hair and hazel eyes that glare balefully up at him.
"I can't believe I forgot for even a moment who the biggest pest of them all is," Andrew says.
"Wouldn't it be more comfortable under the blankets?"
"That is most assuredly not the point."
"Alright, Mr. Crankypants. I have to put the groceries away before your ice cream melts. Let me know if you want help folding." He leaves Andrew's face uncovered as he walks away, just because he knows that it'll bug him.
He makes quick work of putting the groceries away back in the kitchen, skillfully stepping around Sir as she slinks between his legs. She's attracted by the sound of rustling plastic packaging, always hoping for a treat. Neil abstains from giving her one because he knows that Andrew has probably given her enough today as it is. For all his complaints about the cats, he spoils them just as much as Neil does.
After folding the reusable bags—a gift from Renee—and setting them back by the front door, he proceeds to pick up his shorts on the ground and brush off the cat hair that he can before placing them on the coffee table. From there, he turns on the TV and settles on the couch. He flips to ESPNU to see if the pre-game coverage of tonight's match between Palmetto and UCF has started yet. He likes to tune in when he can—all of the foxes that he went to school with graduated a few years ago, but Dan is doing her best to whip the current team into shape.
ESPNU is still covering some swim meet instead of exy. Content that at least it's not baseball, Neil keeps it on and allows himself to pay half-attention to it. At some point, Sir jumps on his lap and he obligingly starts scratching under her chin just the way that she likes.
It's not that much longer until Andrew comes out of the bedroom. He doesn't come to the living room right away, but Neil can hear him rooting around in the kitchen. There's the hissing pop of a can of cat food being opened, and Sir perks up right away. She's gone from Neil's lap in a flash, meowing plaintively as she goes. It doesn’t take more than a moment for King’s meows to join the chorus.
Neil sighs and takes the chance to readjust his legs—they had been beginning to fall asleep, but he hadn't wanted to move them and disturb Sir.
Having fed the cats, Andrew soon joins Neil on the couch. Neil lifts his arm for Andrew to sit next to him, a wordless invitation that Andrew can take or ignore as he likes.
Today, he does accept it, and he buries his face into Neil’s shoulder. Neil drops his arm along the back of the couch and leans his head against Andrew’s. “So, how did the folding go?” he asks innocently.
Andrew is silent, which Neil interprets as an admission that he didn’t actually fold any of it. He laughs and ignores the huff that gets him in response. He figures that they can tackle it together after dinner, and doesn’t give it any further thought than that. Instead, he revels in the absurd happiness that this is what his life is like now, and presses a kiss to Andrew’s hair.