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It wasn’t that Andrew was having a bad day. It was that everything around him seemed intent on making him have one. From the delay of his flight to the heavier than usual traffic and now the downed elevator, Andrew was very nearly at his limit. He didn’t even have Neil at home to look forward to, the striker not flying in until the morning. He was half tempted to just say fuck it and go stay at a hotel, but he had had his fill of strange beds this week.
Flipping off the out of order sign, Andrew stomped over to the stairwell, flipping off that sign for good measure. Heaving his suitcase up the many flights of stairs, Andrew managed to cling to his control with nothing but pure spite. Could he count that as progress? He should ask Bee. Spiteful tranquility. Maybe that’s what Renee could call herself.
As he shoved his key into his lock, he heard the sound of a door opening down the hall, and he grit his teeth in annoyance. This building could have been perfect, if it weren’t for their Exy obsessed neighbour. Maybe he could convince Neil to move. To a house. Or the mountains. The fucking moon if it meant Andrew wouldn’t have to deal with this.
Shouldering his door open, Andrew slipped inside just as they called out his name, slamming it closed behind him. The heavy thump of the lock was a relief, the novelty of it still managing to send a thrill up his spine even after so many years. Better than the lock though, were the two balls of fur pressing against his legs, their purrs vibrating directly into his bones.
“Beasts,” he said, abandoning his bag in favour of scooping them both up into his arms. They were warm and soft, their fur tickling his nose as they pressed their bodies against him. “Did you destroy the place while I was gone?”
Sir chirped high in his ear, scrambling to drape herself over Andrew’s shoulders. King wiggled to be released, never one for being held for long. Andrew let him go readily, the cat landing with a sound heavier than Andrew thought he needed.
Toeing out of his shoes was a challenge with a shifting weight on his back and a paw swatting at the laces, but Andrew had become an expert at navigating the minefield of coming home. Shoving them under the shoe rack, Andrew carefully stepped over the tail flicking at his toes, making his way deeper into the apartment.
“Let’s go see the damage,” he said, poking Sir’s ear.
King abandoned his quest to destroy all of their shoes, trotting happily at Andrew’s heels as he made his usual rounds of the place. There was a book on the floor beside a crumbled pair of shorts and socks in the bedroom, but that was probably more a Neil mess than anything else. None of their plants had met a tragic end, and nothing else had been moved.
Humming, Andrew took one final look over the living room. “Impressive,” he said. “I thought for sure you would have broken something.”
King's meow could have been affronted, if he hadn’t been pressing against Andrew’s shins at the time.
“Mmmhmm,” he said. “I’m sure.”
When Andrew stepped into the kitchen, both cats immediately ran to sit in front of their cupboard, nails scrabbling on tile and their calls filling the room. One would think they had never been fed in their entire lives by the complaints they were putting up. Huffing through his nose, Andrew bent to open the cupboard, his knee clicking in protest. He had to remove a cat from the opening three times before he managed to get their bag of treats out, only to have them try to crawl into his lap instead.
Tossing a handful onto the floor, he watched with some amusement as they scrambled over each other in their attempts to reach the little pebbles first.
“You’re both ridiculous,” he said, closing the cupboard and straightening.
Leaving them to it, he quickly switched their water, restocked their food, and tossed the litter. They had only been alone for a couple of days, but it was still longer than Andrew preferred. Once they were set up, he grabbed his bag and shoved his clothes in the laundry hamper. He could deal with the rest later. By the time he was finished, both beasts were curled up on the sofa, waiting expectantly.
“What.”
He only got a blink from them both in answer.
He blinked back. “No. Unlike you two miscreants, I don’t have someone to dump food on the floor for me. I need to do that myself.”
Sir’s ear flicked.
He pointed a finger at her in warning, his eyes narrowing. She made a high trilling noise before reaching over to swat at King. Knowing what was coming, Andrew made his way back into the kitchen as the sound of paws pounding on wood began.
Checking the fridge, he found the ingredients for stir fry and a covered plate with a note in Neil’s messy scrawl saying ‘Andrew if you eat all of these before I get home I am never making them again’. A quick lift of the foil showed a batch of brownies waiting for him, and he felt a warmth for the other man light inside his chest.
Gathering up the chicken and vegetables in his arms, he paused before stepping away from the fridge to let Sir streak past, King hot on her heels. There was the sound of something falling to the floor in the living room, but no accompanying noise of anything breaking. He’d grab whatever that was later. Or get Neil to.
“When you two are done,” he called, sparking the stove, “I’m making chicken.”
It wasn’t long until the apartment smelled of spice and heat, the sounds of the cats chasing each other replaced by food sizzling in the pan. The trip had left Andrew hungrier than he thought, and he made sure to pile his plate high. He would come back for the brownies.
Flopping onto the couch with a quiet groan, Andrew flicked the TV on, pleased to see House Hunters already playing. Settling into the cushions, he watched from the corner of his eye as King and Sir slinked their way onto the couch, eyes wide and tails twitching.
He made them wait until he was mostly done with his dinner, sending them both a glare when they shuffled an inch or paw closer. By the time he was down to the last few bites, he had to hold his bowl up to his chin to keep their noses out of it.
“Spoiled. Both of you.” Sucking the sauce off his spoon, he plucked out a few chunks of meat and held out his hand. Their tongues scraped along his palm, tickling his fingers as they scarfed it down. Between the three of them, they made quick work of the rest of the food.
As Neil so politely requested, Andrew didn’t eat all of the brownies, leaving a single one behind. Curling back up on the couch with his softest blanket, Sir across his shoulders and King in his lap, Andrew pulled out his phone.
It rang twice before Neil’s voice, smaller through the speakers than normal, came through. “You know, I think I hate New York.”
Andrew’s lips twitched in a small smile. “Not enough holes for you to hide in?”
Neil groaned, “I just want to be home.”
“Tomorrow,” Andrew said quietly.
They lapsed into a brief silence, Andrew carefully running his fingers behind King’s ears. With Neil’s soft breathing filling his head and the cats’ purrs echoing in his body, he felt himself slipping into a state just before sleep.
“Andrew.” He hummed to let Neil know he was listening, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m glad you made it home.”
Rubbing the space between King’s eyes, Sir’s tail curling around his neck, Andrew finally felt himself settle. “Me too.”