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Harry held Lord up to his face, a sombre look overtaking his features in a way that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but which was ultimately undeniably adorable.
“Lord,” he said quietly, “you are a scoundrel and a menace. I rue the day we took you in.”
Neil sighed and rolled his head to look up at Andrew over the back of the sofa. “He gets this from you, you know?”
“Don’t blame me.” Andrew didn’t appear to react, though Neil felt his fingertips brush against his ever so lightly.
“Well it’s not me,” said Neil indignantly, “I’m nothing but adoring of our children. All of our children.”
“For the last time, Junkie, the cats are not our children,” sighed Andrew. “They’re cats.”
“And they’re dumb!” Harry shouted, but it didn’t have quite the same effect as it might have had if he hadn’t been cradling Lord to his chest and rocking slightly to soothe both of them.
Andrew thrust his arm out towards Harry, as though that answered everything. Neil shook his head.
“They’re our cat children,” he said. “And Harry, when you shout it scares him, sweet.”
Harry’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “Good,” he whispered. “He’s… stupid!”
“He gets it,” said Andrew, nodding solemnly.
“Stop it, both of you.” Neil sighed. “You won’t be pleased when the cats start to hate you.”
“Hate me?” Harry looked down at Lord. “You don’t hate me, do you, Lord?”
Lord began to purr against Harry’s chest, reaching up to bat at his cheeks gently. Harry hummed happily.
“You see? It’s his way of showing affection.” Andrew brushed his hands through Neil’s hair, sweeping it back. “You could use a haircut.”
“Then cut it for me,” sighed Neil, closing his eyes. “What if he starts shouting at random cats in the street and they swipe at him? He won’t be happy then.”
“He’s nice to random cats on the street,” said Andrew. “Plus, neither of us are about to let him go out on the streets on his own at this age. So it’s hardly as though there’s going to be a problem.”
“You’re a problem,” grumbled Neil, but he felt something inside him settle as Andrew pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “Love you.”
“You too.”
**
“No, Harry.”
Harry pouted. He had learned some two years ago that when he pouted, his dads were more likely to give him what he wanted.
“But Lord’s feeling like the odd one out! Look! Sir and King are always cuddling up together and Lord gets left out!” He cradled Lord to his chest, pressing soft kisses to his forehead. “Do you want him to die of loneliness? Is that what you want, Papa?”
“Harry,” sighed Neil, “Lord cannot possibly lonely because he has you. Unless you don’t think you’re enough?”
“I’m enough,” protested Harry.
“Good,” said Neil, a small smile playing at his lips. “Then there’s no need to get a fourth cat, hm?”
“I…” Harry scowled and stomped one foot. “Dad!”
Andrew poked his head in from the kitchen. “Yes, love?”
“Papa won’t agree to adopt another cat!”
Neil crossed his arms and tilted his head at Andrew. Part of him wondered what he would do.
“And why are you telling me?”
Harry stroked one hand down Lord’s back. “Because he’s not the boss of you.”
“Oh, he absolutely is,” said Andrew, nodding. “I don’t do anything without your Papa’s approval.”
“Dad,” whined Harry, and Andrew ducked back into the kitchen with a low chuckle.
“Listen to your father!”
“I hate you both!” Harry stomped his foot again.
The house fell silent, except for Lord as he purred against Harry’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry immediately, twisting one foot. “I love you both. I was just angry.”
“It’s okay, pet,” said Neil. “There is nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive you for eventually.”
**
“Adopt a son, they said,” scowled Neil. “It’ll be fun, they said. This is not fun.”
Harry smiled sheepishly. “They just looked so cute?”
Neil looked down into the box of kittens that Harry had found abandoned on his walk from the bus stop.
“We don’t have room for another five cats,” said Neil. “Sir and King are already getting too old to chase around after Lord, another five kittens might make them actually run away.”
“But look at them!” Harry reached down and picked up the smallest, black kitten. “They’re adorable! And black cats hardly ever get adopted because people are superstitious!”
“He’s right,” chimed in Andrew. “Sort of. They are adopted less often than other cats.”
“You are not helpful,” said Neil with a sigh. “Can we reach some sort of compromise?”
Harry nodded excitedly. “Yes, absolutely!”
“You can keep two,” said Neil firmly. “So that they can chase each other around and not Sir and King. And the other three you can ask your classmates to take in, and if they won’t, we will ask the Foxes. You will be responsible for making sure the kittens have the food and everything else they need, you will be in charge of house-training them, you will be their sole caretaker and Andrew and I will only do those things on the rare occasion that you aren’t able to do so. Does that sound fair?”
“Yes,” said Harry instantly.
“Is that alright with you, Drew?”
“Yes,” said Andrew. “It’ll be good for you to learn some responsibility, kid. Now, choose which two you want.”
Harry cradled the one he’d picked up close to his chest. “This one,” he said immediately. “And…”
He lowered his hand into the box, and the kittens all came to sniff at it. One of them opened its mouth and gently bit the side of it. Harry chuckled and picked it up. “This one.”
“Okay,” said Andrew, and he picked up the box, peering in. “Oh no. Neil. Neil, they’re adorable.”
“No, Drew.” Neil lifted one finger up. “We’re already going to have five cats, we can’t handle eight.”
Andrew pouted, but nodded and carried the box into the living room.
“This is Dame Cutesy Furrington,” said Harry, holding up the smaller kitten, “and this is Baron Pawley Whiskerton.”
“Oh god,” whispered Neil.
“I shall call them Dame and Baron for short,” continued Harry.
“We have started something that I didn’t want to finish,” said Neil quietly.
“I’m going to go get them settled in my room,” declared Harry, holding them both to his chest and leaving the room, Lord on his heels.
“What have I done?”