Archive of Our Own

Steve leaves his parents’ house around half past seven in the evening.

Another awkward family dinner. Each one Steve has with them feels worse than the last, and he’s not sure how. He doesn’t even live with his parents anymore, and it should be easier, shouldn’t it?

But Steve realizes how little he has in common with his parents. Mom’s a professor, super intelligent, and always away from home. His dad is an asshole, but Steve knows some of that is fueled by sixty-hour workweeks for literal decades. He might make good money, but he has to travel a lot, and only some of it is for pleasure.

They both like cars, which is how Steve got into them, and they like sports. But that’s about as far as it goes with shared traits.

He sometimes wonders if he even belongs to them. Or were they just weirdly broken people who decided to have a kid together and fucked everything up along the way?

Steve knows he’s not as bright as his mom. He’s not as business-minded as his dad. He’s a disappointment to them because they all had dreams of Steve attending Notre Dame or Purdue, but they never came to fruition. Steve worked in the mall for three years, and his dad refused to help him pay for community college.

That’s about all Steve can amount to, as far as Dad is concerned, considering he’s not the best with math or business-anything. But it’s what he’s supposed to be, and maybe a hefty amount of bitterness kept him from being that.

It was easy to get bitter in high school once the pressure started mounting for Steve to be better, smarter, and more serious. Unfortunately, his parents did nothing to help him achieve that because work and vacations were more meaningful.

So who is to blame?

All of them.

Steve doesn’t work in the mall anymore. He’s not a failure for doing so, which took a little while to iron out for himself. But Steve used his frustrations to start a dumbass blog about sports. He was not a good writer when he began, but that was straight out of high school while working at Scoops.

It’s been four years.

He’s an excellent writer now. Steve is savvy with technology, funny, honest, and clever with subjects he knows a lot about. It started with sports but spread out to other interests, like raging against the machine that is child education, reviews for products people send him for free—like CNN for Christ’s sake—and, naturally, cars.

Steve is a full-on freelance writer, something he never would’ve dreamed of less than five years ago, but being authentic, charming, and hilarious while stringing words together fluently has gone a long way.

And it’s not just the freelancing that earns him a decent living by itself. He’s got Instagram, and he’s a popular writer for all those things, so he’s got tens of thousands of followers. Maybe not millions, but he’s not a novelist that can reach everyone. Steve has a target audience, and they love him—so does Instagram.

Between writing and blessed social media, Steve bought his own goddamn house.

It’s modest, cute, nothing crazy. But it’s a new build in a new neighborhood, and Steve lives alone. He never could ask for more than that, really. Maybe a little extra cash to enjoy life, which Steve has, so he has absolutely no complaints.

Robin always asks him to help her fall into a random career and get her out of the roommate situation, but he can’t help. Steve picked what he thought was a dumb hobby at the time, but this is the age of the internet, and every corner of it will be inspected and dissected.

He can’t guess how each month will go, so Steve’s not the best for career advice since his stuff might be considered niche.

And despite all this, his parents still think he’s stupid for his choice of profession. They say it like it’s ridiculous and will collapse on him, but it never will unless Steve suddenly hates it and stops one day. Writers are writers forever, and Steve freaking loves it. He’s never going to stop because he has no reason to, and he’s self-made.

If they can’t stand the idea that their son is independent with his own house at twenty-two and he’s happy, that’s on them. It’s disappointing and stings whenever Steve thinks about it, but what can he do?

Keep proving them wrong, he supposes.

Thankfully, the house he’s in is across town. Which is still only about a ten-minute drive, but those ten minutes keep this from being a regular thing. Steve usually only has dinner with his parents if they’ve got some news for him or it’s the holidays.

Tonight, it’s September 27th, so nothing is going on. And their news was only that they were heading to Europe for a couple of weeks. They hired a house sitter already, so, as Steve pulls into his driveway, he wonders why the fuck they think it needed to be more than a text.

Maybe to see if he failed at life yet or something.

Instead, Steve will just keep rocking it.

Steve opens the garage and pulls in, shutting it before he steps out of the car. A wasted Sunday night, but whatever. At least the food was good.

“Mrow.”

“Oh!” Steve shouts and whirls around, pointing his car key at the ground. “What the—Jesus! Hey!”

A cat is sitting next to his back wheel, staring at him with big, round green eyes. It’s white with grey spots, kind of slinky and thin, and Steve wonders how close he came to smashing it flat with a tire.

“How long have you been in here, huh?” Steve asks and rubs his chest to get his heart to calm down. “I hope you just snuck in. Uhh. Come here, huh?”

He kneels down and holds out his hand, making that spspspsp noise. Thankfully, the cat doesn’t dart under the car but saunters right up to Steve. It headbutts his hand, and he scratches it behind the ears, looking for a collar.

Of course not.

Its paws are mostly clean, and despite being slinky and slim, the cat seems well fed. A good coat that’s not too dirty. Purring up a storm under Steve’s hand already, and it must belong to someone nearby.

But did it get out? Is it an inside cat? Sometimes an outdoor adventurer? Steve just bought his house four months ago, but he has no idea if he’s seen this cat before or not. Outside or in someone’s window. It’s not familiar to him.

And it’s… a girl, yup, Steve sees as he scratches her butt and peeks.

“Well,” Steve sighs. “You are one pretty lady. I have no clue what to do. What do I do with you? Leave you out for the night?”

She looks up at Steve and seems unimpressed, but that’s how cats sometimes look.

“How about in front of the door? I’ll put a blanket down, and you can sleep there since it’s getting colder at night. Yeah,” Steve says and stands. “Yeah, that’s what I should do. Wait, is it?”

She rubs against his ankles as Steve stands with his hands on his hips and tries to think.

If he brought her inside, it could be… bad. She might hate it and yowl or pee on things. Destroy his new, beautiful furniture. Or she might stick to him like glue and beg for food, which he definitely doesn’t have. She could sleep on his bed, and Steve might fall in love with her, but he can’t.

She’s not his cat.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters and pulls out his phone. He fires off a text to Robin, asking if he can call her. She says yes, so he does.

“Hey, boo.”

“Heya,” Steve says and looks at the cat rubbing her chin over his shoes. “I need help.”

“Shoulder to cry on?”

“What? No! Why?”

“Dinner with the parents. Sometimes you need a shoulder to cry on after.”

“I… do not. Okay, maybe. But, no! No. No, I need help with something else,” Steve says. “A cat.”

Robin hums. “A cat. A real cat?”

“Yes, a real cat! What else could I… never mind! Robin! She’s literally wound around my legs.”

“Ohh,” Robin says and sounds amused. “And where are you two?”

“In my garage. She was just in here when I got out of my car. I have no idea if she snuck in now or if she’s been in here for longer than that. But she’s, like… she’s super sweet, calm, and friendly. I don’t know what to do.”

“No collar.”

“No collar.”

“Vets are closed.”

“Vets are closed.”

“You don’t have any cat food.”

“I seriously don’t. Not even a can of tuna.”

“I have cat food.”

“You do,” Steve agrees. “Wait, no. No, no, no. I’m not inviting her in and feeding her.”

“Are you gonna kick her out into the snow, Steve? What kinda ladies man are you?”

Steve holds up his finger. “First, there is no snow and won’t be until November. Second, I don’t know if she’s on a special diet. What if I kill her with kibble? What if I feed her and find out she lives next door and my neighbors kill me?”

Robin laughs. “Oh, dingus,” she says. “You are way overthinking this cat. Go knock on a few doors and ask. Take a picture of her and leave her in the garage, so you don’t lose her. She might be taken right off your hands.”

“Okay,” Steve says and narrows his eyes. “Right, right, right. That’s a good plan. Solid plan. A for effort, Buckley!”

“That’s what I’m here for, boo.”

“And what if she doesn’t belong to any of those houses?”

“Guess you’ll have to make a post on Nextdoor or Citizen or whatever. I get notifications all the time about missing pets there. Someone will claim her, and they’ll do it sooner rather than later.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Okay, I can do that. I only have Ring notifications for the doorbell, so I should also check there.”

“Mhmm.”

“And? What if it all fails?”

“Invite her inside. I’ll drop off some kibble, you get her a water dish, and wait until someone claims her. And they have to provide picture proof that she’s theirs. So don't put her picture up ‘cause some people will try to claim her when she’s not theirs.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, they would. Dammit. I wanted to have a quiet Sunday evening.”

He looks down at the cat as she lounges at his feet, her tail occasionally flicking against his shoe. Her ears are back like she’s listening, but she seems entirely at ease.

“She’ll be back with her family before you know it,” Robin says. “Go knock on doors. Keep me updated, huh?”

“Yup,” Steve says with a long sigh. “I will.”

They hang up, and Steve stares at the cat for a stretch. He takes a couple of pictures before kneeling and getting closer shots as she watches him curiously. He scratches her ears and neck before he’s satisfied.

“Okay. I will be back very shortly,” Steve says and points at her. “Don’t go under the hood of my car. Just stay right there.”

She blinks slowly as Steve backs away.

Suddenly, she’s at Steve’s feet as he tries to open the door to go inside. He has to fight her off—carefully—but it makes him think she’s definitely an indoor cat. She has to be.

And it hurts. It hurts to just leave her in the garage like that. She should be treated better. He’s abandoning her. But if Steve invites her inside, he might not find her for three days, so he does what’s necessary.

Steve checks the Ring app first, scrolling through Pets, and doesn’t see anything for the last few weeks. After that, he doesn’t think he needs to scroll further because she’s too well-fed.

He heads out of the house through the front door. It’s late to bother people on a Sunday night, and he tries five houses, and two are definitely annoyed. But she doesn’t belong to any of them, though some of the people he speaks to feel the need to tell him about their own cat. Or other people who might have lost a cat, except the cat is not anywhere near the description or pictures of the cat in his garage.

Seriously, the orange tabby that lives two streets down?

Whatever. She doesn’t belong to any houses nearby, so Steve trudges back home.

He sits on the couch and brings up the Ring app.

Steve’s never made a post on it, and it’s way more daunting than it should be. He expects fifty people to tell him what to do immediately, so Steve includes what he’s done already and what he’ll do if no one claims her—check for a microchip and hold on to her until her family finds her if she doesn’t have one—and some other miscellaneous information.

The first two comments he gets are from people telling him what or how to do all the things listed.

The third comment is a reply to one that says they listed all that can nobody read on this app????

“Alright,” Steve mutters and turns on notifications for his post. He texts Robin that the neighbors were a no-go, he posted on Ring and is inviting the little lady in.

Good for you boo. Doing the right thing. If it gets late, I’ll drop off some food for her. She will not die on one day of my kibble. I buy the best for Buttons

Yeah I know. People are extremely sensitive these days tho.

Truth. But returning their baby should get you a thank you

I only need her not here.

Aww you love her already

I do not. Never. No pets.

You’ve told me you’re going to get a dog once you put down turf

Maybe. But no cats!

Whatever you say dingus

Steve shakes his head and pockets his phone. He walks down the hall to the garage and tentatively opens the door, glancing down. Her giant green eye staring at him makes him jump, but Steve laughs and opens the door.

She darts inside, and Steve flips off the garage light, locks the door, and follows her down the hall. She’s moving fast like she’s scared, and Steve thinks of closing the bedroom and office door way too late.

Thankfully, she zooms right past them, so Steve closes them behind her and follows her into the living room.

She stops at the edge of the love seat and looks around before glancing at Steve as if to say, this isn’t home.

“I know,” Steve says and holds up his hands. “Bring it up with your mom or dad. I am just a good samaritan doing my duty.”

He walks into the kitchen and finds a shallow Tupperware container In one of the cabinets. Steve turns around to fill it at the sink on the kitchen island, but she’s like, right there on top of it, and he drops the Tupperware.

“Jesus!” Steve says as he leans down to pick it up. “Warn a guy—hey. Heyyy. Whoa. Whoa, okay. This is dangerous.”

The cat has climbed onto his back. Steve can feel she’s not declawed, even if her claws aren’t quite digging into his skin yet. He slowly edges up, and she moves with him until Steve stands in front of the sink, and she settles around his shoulders.

“Okay. Okay, super freaky. Don’t fall. Do not use me as collateral if you do. You’re going to realize this is not a good idea soon,” Steve mutters as he turns the sink on to a gentle flow.

He fills the Tupperware and sets it on the island. Steve edges closer and tips a little to the left, and the cat must do this to her owner because she glides right off him with no claws or trouble.

Steve watches her take a very long drink, hands on his hips and shakes his head.

The most social and cool cat wandered into his garage, and he’s not supposed to fall in love? Okay. Sure. Maybe he will just pretend that he found the owners and it’ll only be terribly broken hearts, maybe even kids’, but she seems kind of worth it.

“Definitely not worth it,” Steve sighs. “I gotta get you home.”

She continues to drink, and Steve pulls out his phone, snapping a pic and sending it to Robin.

She’s on the sink!!!!!! She’s gorgeous omg and you let her on the kitchen counter already

I did not have a choice madam. She was on the ground, then the sink, then my shoulders all in the blink of an eye.

Your shoulders?

Literally. Walked onto my back and laid on my shoulders. Purring. No blood involved.

I would die for her. If you haven’t heard anything by ten lmk

Will do.

Steve shakes his head as the cat finishes her drink and walks across the kitchen island before laying down on the corner. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and sits on the couch, opening up the Ring app.

More people telling him what to do. Someone lists about eight websites to post her on, which Steve is definitely not doing tonight. And eight seems excessive. Why are there two more he knows of? Why are there ten places to post about lost pets in Hawkins?

It seems like only one is necessary. Maybe two.

“But that’s it,” Steve says. “Jesus, you guys are animals.”

The cat jumps on his lap, and Steve nearly loses it. He manages only to flinch a bit, and she eyes him cautiously until Steve relaxes.

“It’s cool. Just keep trying to give me a heart attack. No worries,” Steve says and rubs her back. “I don’t know who your human is, but they are a lucky bastard. You are the sweetest.”

He turns on the TV and scratches her ears and chin until she curls up and closes her eyes. Steve takes about eight more pictures of her and thinks about… maybe… hitting the humane society. Maybe. Just to look and see if there are any fits.

Canine or feline.

Because it’s going to suck to say goodbye to her. Steve can feel that already. And the multiple notifications for the next hour don’t help, but no one is claiming her. A few people link to one of the other places with a white and grey cat, but none are her.

They start tapering off after a while, and by ten, Steve sighs. He texts Robin, and she says she’ll be right over.

She really will be too. Robin lives in the apartment complex just down the street from Steve, which is the best thing ever and keeps them close. She spends a ton of time at his place to escape her shitty roommate, and if they ever have a night of drinking too much, they don’t have to worry about getting her home.

Robin is also excellent with cats. She’s had them her entire life, and Steve loves Buttons to pieces. Robin is the one to go to for this kind of thing, though Steve still thinks he could’ve done without the cat.

Left stuff at the door

You’re not coming in?

I don’t want to upset her on this very traumatic day

She is the most chill thing in the world! No trauma.

I’ll come by tomorrow at lunch if she’s still with you. You never know what might scare her. Text me literally every update

Jfc. I will. Thanks cutie patootie. I owe you a big one.

Only adorable cat pics and videos

Steve sets his phone aside and coaxes the cat off his lap. He gets up and walks down the hall to the front door, glancing back before he opens it. A large bag is on the mat, and Steve looks at the street, seeing Robin’s car.

She waves and blows him a kiss, and Steve laughs as he watches her drive away.

He closes and locks the front door. “What the fuck is in here,” Steve mutters as he walks into the kitchen and sets the bag on the counter. He points at the end of the island, and the cat leaps gracefully onto it. “See. We’re getting to know each other.”

Robin gave him a big bag of kibble, a temporary but decently sized litter box and enough litter to fill it. There are also a handful of toys.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters. “Trust the cat mom. Yeah, this is all for you. What do you think?”

She sniffs around the bag for a while and paws inside of it once she glimpses a shiny blue fabric ball. Steve gives it to her and watches her bat it straight onto the floor before she dives off the island and starts chasing it.

“Literally the easiest cat in the world,” Steve says. “God bless you, ma’am.”

Steve gets a towel and lays it on the floor under the windows in his living room. He fills the litter box with all the litter and sets the scoop Robin included next to it. Steve moves further along the wall and sets down another towel for her food and water bowl.

She’s in the litter box pretty quickly, and it’s a long pee. Like, a long pee and Steve wonders if she’s been holding it in since she got out. If she’s an indoor cat and didn’t find the right place outside yet.

And it is getting chillier out, so Steve’s glad she’s inside.

Ma’am, as Steve is going to call her, eats and drinks plenty too. He sits and watches her for a while until Ma’am joins him on the couch again.

Steve browses Ring, but there are no updates, and it’s getting late. He’s got a full day of writing ahead of him, but he’s not entirely sure what to do with Ma’am. If he leaves her alone, she could destroy the place. She could pee on his bed. Tons of things can go wrong.

But he picks up some things here and there and heads to bed with the door open anyway. Better to give her the option and hear what’s going on outside the bedroom if she gets into anything.

Steve does his nightly routine, keeping a paranoid eye out for her, but Ma’am doesn’t come in.

She only comes in once he’s settled in bed and about to turn off the lamp, which scares Steve again. Ma’am waltzes right up to him, bumping his cheekbone with her forehead, and Steve scratches her until she lays down next to his pillow, purring up a storm.

“Alright, well. I hope you sleep as well as you do everything else,” Steve mumbles and turns off his lamp.

He’s out not long after, Ma’am’s purrs gently lulling him to sleep.

Steve’s only woken up once around four when Ma’am meows out in the living room loud enough for it to scare the shit out of him. But she doesn’t do it again, and when Steve calls her, she comes back to bed.

He wakes up in the morning with her butt on his stomach, her hind feet nearly touching his nose, and the rest of her pressed flat to his side.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters. He squints as Ma’am stretches, and her claws come too close to his eyes, but he gently coaxes her off of him.

Steve scrambles for his phone and checks his notifications. It takes about ten minutes, but there’s absolutely nothing. It’s a punch to the gut if Steve’s honest because he wants Ma’am back home with her family, who obviously treat her like the queen she is.

And he doesn’t want to grow attached. No way. Maybe Steve will get a cat of his own someday, but he doesn’t want one now.

It’s way too early to think about that, though.

Ma’am’s got what she needs to survive a day in Steve’s house, so he gets up and starts his day. Takes a handful of pictures and sends them to Robin before he sits at his desk around ten.

Steve starts to write and wonders if he should post a personal blog about the cat. It could be a thrilling adventure that’ll get a ton of clicks because it’ll be funny, cute, and heartwarming whenever her family reunites with her, but he decides to hold off on it for now.

He doesn’t know why, but Steve thinks he should wait.

She joins him in his office, and after fighting with her for fifteen minutes to not lie on his keyboard or laptop, Ma’am finally parks it on the edge of the desk and sleeps.

After more pictures, Steve writes and tries not to think about Ma’am too much. It’s kind of difficult with her right there and as awesome as she is. Oh, it’s going to hurt.

Steve passed that bridge into affection territory. He kind of wants no one to claim her and for her to just magically be a feral stray that is the best cat in the world so he can keep her.

“Focus, Harrington. Focus,” Steve mutters, something he usually doesn’t have to say until at least three in the afternoon.

They eat lunch together, and Steve learns Ma’am likes to play fetch, feather toys are her addiction, and she meows for all the world to hear after she poops.

Which seems… okay. Cats do that, don’t they?

Steve asks Robin, and she assures him it’s normal if there’s healthy poo in the box.

Robin also comes over around one, and inviting a new person into the house doesn’t seem to faze Ma’am… too much. It takes her a moment to stop hiding under the coffee table, but Robin only has to call her, and Ma’am comes right out.

She deems Robin a person of special interest and affection, and Steve doesn’t like either of their big, round eyes.

“If no one claims her, she’s yours,” Robin says. “And I’m her godmother.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. Yup,” he says. “Can’t argue that.”

Robin plays with Ma’am for a while and gives Steve a bag of treats and another litter bag. She brings in a carrier, heads back to work, and so does Steve, with Ma’am taking up her corner on his massive desk.

He has four monitors and a laptop that Steve usually brings everywhere, and some days it still feels insufficient.

A few notifications scare him throughout the day, but they don’t pan out to anything. By late afternoon, Steve’s worried that no one has claimed her in twenty-four hours.

Regardless of how chill the pet is, anyone with a lost pet would constantly check if anyone posted about them. But there’s nothing on the apps, so Steve finishes work early and does what he’s been afraid to do.

He gets Ma’am into the carrier, puts her in the car, and heads to the closest veterinarian's office. They check for chips for free, and Steve’s dreading it. The carrier is okay beyond some mournful yowls, but Ma’am perks right up when Steve lets her out in the room.

No. Chip.

No goddamn chip. Of course not. Who doesn’t chip their pets these days? Their kickass pets they should be deathly afraid to lose?

Ma’am stays another night.

And another.

Another, until she becomes a regular and delightful fixture.

Nothing on the apps. Steve’s posted to all ten of them. Lots of people tell him to post to the other nine and everything else he should be doing, and they argue in the comments, but Steve never replies.

He’s got a cat expert on his side, and she’s all Steve needs.

Robin tells him she drove through a few nearby neighborhoods but didn’t see any signs for a cat. Even with all the apps and websites, people still do it the old-fashioned way, which Steve is grateful for.

Except it doesn’t work out, and Ma’am stays another night.

She likes to be near Steve almost all the time. If she’s not on his shoulders in the kitchen, she’s sitting on the island patiently waiting while he cooks dinner. Every morning he wakes up with Ma’am’s toes in his face, and she’s always lying on the bathroom mat when he gets out of the shower.

Ma’am loves to sit in various windows when the sun hits them right, and she loves to play. The vet thought she was only about a year old, and Steve agrees. She sleeps like a cat, but she has tons of energy while she’s awake.

But when he watches her sit on the windowsill looking out at the street, Steve gets the feeling she’s waiting for someone.

Or enjoying the birds and cars and kids. But it kinda feels like waiting for someone… her someone.

Which is distressing as fuck.

Steve’s in love. Ma’am seems to enjoy him. Robin keeps talking about buying permanent things, but Steve tells her to wait for another week. Ma’am’s family could be on vacation or something, or they’re looking for her in some other way.

There’s no way she doesn’t have a family.

Two mornings later, when the stress and feel-good stuff hit Steve too hard, he leaves at six in the morning to go for a jog. He likes to run to burn off the ick, keep his heart healthy, all that, but he also wants to run when he’s happy.

Steve is really happy, and it’s actually stressing him out more because he’s been with Ma’am for a week and hoo. It’s going to hurt. It already hurts, and Steve doesn’t know why.

Or maybe the pain is the universe telling him it’s almost over.

He jogs past the mailbox after a warmup lap through the neighborhood before abruptly stopping. Steve backs up a pace, panting, and puts his hands on his hips as he sees a flier taped to the mailbox. He looks down the sloping street and sees another taped to a light pole.

And the picture on the flier looks an awful lot like a white and grey cat.

Steve hesitantly approaches the mailbox and presses his fingers against the printout. It’s new paper and tape, so someone probably put it out this morning or late last night. The giant, full-caps text on it is distracting, which is good because Steve doesn’t want to cry.

I LOST MY FUCKING CAT

SHE’S AN ASSHOLE AND HER NAME IS SUGARLOAF BUT SHE WON’T RESPOND TO IT. I STILL LOVE HER AND WANT HER BACK.

$ REWARD $

“Jesus,” Steve says, laughing, unable to help it. He might be misty-eyed, too, because that’s definitely Ma’am in the picture. Sugarloaf, who doesn’t respond to Sugarloaf because, seriously?

Sugarloaf?

But whoever the fuck this is loves their cat. Sugarloaf is lying on her side, staring at the camera with big green eyes all soft and cozy, and it’s clear she loves whoever is behind the camera.

Steve sniffs and bounces in place a few times. “Get it together, Harrington,” he mutters. “You knew it would happen.”

He pulls his phone off the arm strap he uses to hold it and listen to music, and, with a long sigh, he takes a picture. Then, with an even more mournful sigh, he sends it to Robin.

It’s really early, but she won’t mind.

Oh noooooo not Ma’am. Not Sugarloaf. Not her owners. It can’t be

A week later and it is. I am heartbroken. </3

Me too boo. </3 Maybe they’re awful people and you’ll have grounds to keep her

In a good and just world yes. Unfortunately this is a world where people name their cats Sugarloaf and treat them really well.

She’s gotta go home

I hate it.

Cry in front of them and ask them to send you pics now and then

No way that’s happening. I’m going to take a couple of hours first and text the number.

Ask for more photo proof!

I definitely will. Thanks for all your help

Let’s go to the humane society and pick one out for you this weekend

No way. I need to mend this broken heart first.

Right. We have to grieve for Sugarloaf after she’s reunited with her loving family. Then we get you a girl of your own

Maybe.

Love you boo

Love you too roo roo.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to finish his run. All his energy has been depleted with a single flier attached to the mailbox. Steve takes it down and heads home to shower, eat breakfast, and enjoy another couple of hours with Ma’am.

Sugarloaf.

“Sugarloaf,” Steve says to her as she greets him at the door. She only blinks at him before rubbing his ankles. Steve hums. “Possibly non-responsive. C’mon, Sugarloaf.”

Still hard to tell because she literally follows him everywhere. Which might be why she doesn’t respond much to her name. She’s always there.

Steve’s going to miss his white shadow.

She’s on the mat when Steve gets out of the shower, sits on the island as he makes toast with jam because he doesn’t feel like more, and they sit at the kitchen table for a while after.

Sugarloaf keeps trying to grab his plate to lick the crumbs, and Steve slides it back toward him as he looks down at the flier. He smiles and shakes his head, thinking it’s the perfect way to get anyone’s attention and bring Sugarloaf home.

“Gonna miss you, you little shit,” Steve mumbles after Sugarloaf gives up on the crumbs and rubs her chin against his. She walks in front of him, leaning against his chest before she walks the other way and does the same. “You don’t make this easy.”

Steve scratches her ears, chin, ribs, and butt and listens to her purr. She looks at him with soft, green eyes, and she’s an exact copy of the picture on the flier.

He sniffs and pulls out his phone, looking at the phone number. Local, thank god, but where were they for a week?

Hey. I believe I found your cat.

The reply comes back less than a minute later.

I put those fliers out three hours ago. More pics

Four pictures come through shortly after, and while Steve already knows it’s Sugarloaf, she can’t be mistaken for another cat. She has a spot of light grey fur under her left whiskers and over the back of her right ear.

She’s such a beautiful cat, and Steve feels like he’s already in mourning.

“Yup,” Steve says and sighs. “Found your family, little lady. I think you’re gonna be outta here soon.”

Sugarloaf continues to purr and lays between his arms on the table.

Yeah that’s her. I’ve had her in my place for a week and I’ve been posting on a lot of local apps.

I was gone for five days and the guy I asked to watch her just kept telling me food and water were fine but not that they weren’t fucking moving and he hadn’t seen her. I don’t know local apps

That’s ok. That guy obviously sucks and should be hung up by his balls but she’s good. My friend is a cat person and she’s helped me keep up with Sugarloaf. Here she is right now.

Steve takes a quick picture of her lying between his arms on top of the flier. He sends it to whoever this guy is and bites his lip as he waits.

Figured she’d flirt her way into someone’s home. She looks great. Thanks for taking care of her. I was pissed and worried

I know you said she’s an asshole but she’s been a queen. I bet you were worried but she’s safe. You can pick her up whenever you want.

She’s only an asshole if you live with her long enough. But I do love her

Don’t get mad. But you might want to microchip her.

Yeah I know. My sister has asked me a dozen times if I have yet and of course I lose her before I do. I found her on a smoke break at work a year ago. Here

Steve gets another picture, and it’d take him out on the spot if he were a lesser man.

Sugarloaf, but tiny. If Steve had to guess, she's barely a month old and screaming at whoever took this while standing on his black boot. She looks dirty and skinny, so she probably was a feral kitten.

“Oh my god!” Steve says and shows Sugarloaf his phone. “That’s you. Look at how teeny you were! You’d break even the most iron of hearts.”

She merely keeps purring.

That is the best picture. Thanks for taking her in because she’s the coolest. I showed her that picture but she didn’t get nearly as embarrassed as I do when I see baby pictures.

Hahaha
I never liked cats before but I think I wasn’t around em enough. She is cool. Keeps her old man going

Steve smiles and rests his chin in his hand. He’s nursing a broken heart, but it seems like Sugarloaf’s dad is decent and misses her.

My friend insists I get one for myself now. But Sugarloaf will always have a place in my heart. I’ll ABSOLUTELY catsit the next time you go out of town and we’ll worry more about treats.

Sounds good to me. Do you have a cash app

Nope. I don’t want money for happening across her. Well she appeared in my garage and scared the shit out of me. But yeah no money. I want her to go home.

Thank you
Really

No problem. When do you want to pick her up?

I’m at work and can’t leave. Mind if I ask you to watch her until after 5?

Do I MIND? Of course not. I work from home so we’ll spend our last day together eating ice cream and a lot of treats

Don’t give her ice cream. Cats are lactose intolerant

Wait are they really?

Better do your research before you get one of your own man
Did you give her ice cream

I swear I didn’t. Just lots of cat treats.

She likes to keep her figure

Yeah I know. She’s extremely active and gets plenty of exercise.

At 4:28am, 6pm, and 10:30pm

You are so her owner. Yup

Sorry if she’s kept you up

I’m not sorry at all. I’m sorry you were putting fliers out at 4 am tho.

Couldn’t sleep. I get up for work at 5 anyway so no big deal. I gotta head back in. address and I'll be there asap after I get off

See you then!

No more texts come in after he sends the address, and Steve sighs. He looks at Sugarloaf and rubs her forehead until she brrps and looks at him with those big green eyes.

Steve sighs and presses his face against her side, and Sugarloaf must know something is up because she lets him do it. But then, she’s always been an awesome cat.

Maybe Steve will try to get her owner to send him pictures of her now and then. Or it’d make the heartbreak worse. But Steve could get his own cat, and it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

It’s likely best to cut her entirely off and never text her owner again because Steve thinks she might always be the one that got away, even if it was to a fantastic home.

She sleeps on his desk while Steve works, but he takes more breaks to play with her and lets Sugarloaf nap on his lap while he watches TV.

The day speeds by, which isn’t fair. It crawled for the first few days she was with him, but now the clock won’t stop, and it’s late afternoon before Steve knows it. He lays on the couch, and Sugarloaf rests on Steve’s chest.

He scratches her until she’s purring, then rests his hands behind his head.

“Man,” Steve mumbles. “It’s gonna suck to see you go.”

“Mrrp.”

“I know, right? We’ve barely gotten to know each other.”

“Mrrm.”

“Seriously. It’s just not fair,” Steve sighs. “I would’ve pretended I never saw those fliers if it wouldn’t haunt me to my grave. But your old man misses you, and I bet he was scared he lost you. So, keep being cool, huh?”

“Prrrr.”

Steve nods and stares at the ceiling. “This sucks a lot. But I won’t cry. I won’t embarrass you like that.”

Sugarloaf’s tail flicks against his neck.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be okay. Gotta man up. Man up, Harrington!”

When the clock strikes five, Steve sheds a tear or two. He’ll never admit it to Robin. But he also wipes his eyes, makes sure he looks okay and packs up the toys and treats. He’ll keep the litter box and food because this guy already has everything for Sugarloaf, but Steve will need to clean or toss everything because letting them sit in the house will only hurt more.

At a quarter past five, the doorbell rings.

Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands over his face. “Get it together, man,” he mutters. He walks down the hall with a sigh, but this is Sugarloaf’s dad, so he can’t be too upset with the guy who raised a queen.

He opens the door and realizes he’s smiling because it immediately slips away.

So does Billy Hargrove’s smile.

“Harrington?”

“Hargrove?” Steve asks and pokes his head out the door, looking up and down the street. “What the hell are you doing here, man?”

Jesus, Steve has only run into Billy a handful of times in the last four years since they graduated. He’s working, Steve’s working, and the rivalry is a thing of the past. Of course, Billy’s still a dick if they’re in the same place, but it’s mainly for a laugh, and Steve rolls his eyes and continues his day.

It’s been nice living life without Billy in it. So why the fuck is he on Steve’s doorstep?

Billy raises his eyebrows and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He smirks a little. “What if I just came to say hi?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Steve says dryly. “Seriously, I’m waiting for some….”

He trails off, and Billy’s smirk broadens into a shit-eating grin as Steve gapes at him.

“Oh, god.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Harrington. Still that dense, huh?”

“Oh, come on. You? You with a cat? How do you even keep her alive?”

Billy looks less amused. “I can keep more than myself alive. Good at it, actually, and this wasn’t my fault. Can I see my fuckin’ cat, man?”

Steve stares at him for a while before he sighs and steps back, gesturing inside.

Why? Why does the universe always do this to Steve? Why Billy? Why was he so genuine? Because he didn’t know it was Steve, obviously, but he was, like, normal. And funny. And Steve felt good about him being Sugarloaf’s dad.

Because he’s a good cat-dad.

“Eyyy! There’s my fuckin’ girl!” Billy shouts barely three steps into the hallway.

Steve closes the door and leans back against it. He raises his eyebrows as Sugarloaf trots to Billy before she gallops and jumps straight into his outstretched arms. He helps her climb onto his shoulders, and Steve stares.

Okay, she fits there.

Billy’s wearing a black leather jacket because apparently he still favors them, but Sugarloaf doesn’t use her nails to hold on. And she totally looks like she belongs there, and it hurts.

Man, it hurts, and it hurts worse because it’s Billy.

“Holy shit, man,” Steve sighs. “Now that I think about it, you two are a match made in heaven.”

“Where do you think she gets it from?” Billy cackles as he looks at Steve. His grin is as broad as Steve’s used to seeing it, except it’s completely genuine. And relieved. “Any lady that walks into my life earns cool points.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he says. He smiles and gestures for Billy to follow him to the kitchen. “Robin brought her some toys, and these are the treats I’ve been giving her.” He plucks the loop of the grocery bag on the kitchen island and looks at Billy. “You can throw them out, but she likes them.”

Sugarloaf is still draped across Billy’s shoulders, but he gently holds her behind her neck and looks in the bag.

“Nah. Those are kitty crack, and I buy them too,” Billy says and looks at Steve. “Thanks for doing all this for her.”

“It really wasn’t difficult,” Steve says with a wry smile. “She made it easy. I’m glad I found her not too long after she got out. Wait, do you live around here?”

Billy shrugs. “Apartments about a block down Madison,” he says. “Not too far for a little fucker like her. She loves going for walks.”

“Like an indoor and outdoor cat?”

“No,” Billy sighs. “Like an indoor cat who likes going for walks.”

“Oh,” Steve says and blinks. “Do you mean you have a leash? Or a harness?”

Billy sighs again but looks amused and taps the countertop until Sugarloaf hops onto it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a harness and leash. She perks up with excitement, and Steve watches with no little wonder as Billy puts the harness on her.

The fabric designs are thick diagonal lines of light and dark purple with a thin, matching leash. They look new, but obviously Sugarloaf has gone for walks and seems eager to go on one now.

Steve’s flabbergasted. Not only by Billy Hargrove being all normal and funny and tugging at his heartstrings, but that he’s the owner—and not only that, he takes his damn cat for walks.

It’s too much.

Billy is… well, he’s not seventeen anymore, and the guy looked good at seventeen. Of course, he looks even better now, and the red plaid shirt unbuttoned low on his chest, along with the black work boots he’s wearing… yeah, Billy’s killer.

It sucks that he’s Billy. But maybe it doesn’t, and Steve wants to be defensive for no damn reason.

“I’d pay to see you walking her,” Steve says and smiles, holding out his hand. Sugarloaf headbutts it, and he scratches her chin. “I guess the guy watching her let her slip out?”

“She doesn’t ever try on her own, so the door must’ve been open for a while. No fuckin’ idea why,” Billy says. He looks angry. “I told him if she was gone, I’d murder him. Smack the shit out of him. Or sue him. Whichever mood I was in when I found him.”

“I don’t blame you,” Steve says. “Christ, that’s fucking awful. But, hey, I meant it, you know.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Meant what?”

“I’ll catsit her.”

“Yeah?” Billy laughs. “You grown attached to my cat, Stevie?”

“You know I have,” Steve sighs. “I fully admit to it. She’s been entertaining the hell out of Robin and me.”

Billy glances around the house. “You guys got this place together?”

“Me and…? No. No, no,” Steve says hurriedly. “It’s just mine. Robin lives down the street in the Valley apartments. She’s got a cat and loves ‘em.”

“You two aren’t a thing?”

Steve laughs, then coughs. “No. No, we are not,” he says. “Just friends.”

“Huh,” Billy says as he peers at Steve. “Did your dad buy you this house?”

Steve sighs. “No,” he says. “Jesus. My dad buys me a nice first car, and everyone thinks I’m dependent on him for the rest of my life. I bought it with my own money.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how? Working!”

“The market is fuckin’ bananas, Harrington.”

“I know it is! But there was that dip four months ago, and I was able to squeeze in before it skyrocketed,” Steve says and holds out his hands. “I got lucky.”

Billy squints suspiciously. “What’re you doing for work?”

“Jesus,” Steve laughs. “I’m doing good is what I’m doing.”

“I’ve never heard of you working anywhere but that ice cream place in the mall, and you left it a while back, right?”

“A few years ago, yeah,” Steve says. “I’m not telling you what I do.”

“Oh,” Billy says and raises his eyebrows. He grins. “Guess I gotta find out myself.”

“No! No, no,” Steve says, cringing as he thinks of his LinkedIn and various social media profiles. “I write, man.”

“Write.”

“Yeah, dude.”

“You can’t fuckin’ write.”

“I swear I can.”

“Since when?”

“Siiiince… a few months out of high school,” Steve says and points at Billy. “You can somehow pull an essay out of your ass and earn a shiny A, but you could not write what I do.”

“Is it erotic fiction?”

Steve laughs and shakes his head, leaning against the counter. “I dunno. Maybe. Would you read my erotic fiction?”

“You bet your ass I would,” Billy says with a wink. “Must be some pretty good fuckin’ to get this place.”

“Tons of people like my stuff, man,” Steve chuckles. “Maybe you can find me later.”

“Oh, I’ll be looking,” Billy says. “Don’t worry. I should get my girl home first. Should I give you a few minutes?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m good. We spent the day together. Isn’t that right?” he asks Sugarloaf, who is lying between them. She looks at Steve and purrs. “She’s going to miss me.”

“All the ladies do,” Billy laughs. “Don’t they, Harrington? I’ll send you some pictures once she’s settled in.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighs and shakes his head. “Really. I would seriously love that.”

“I wasn’t lying. I will,” Billy says and attaches the leash to Sugarloaf’s harness. “Walk us out.”

She’s like a little dog raring to get to the front door and out of it. Sugarloaf can’t really pull, but she meows eagerly and gets tangled between Billy’s legs several times.

Steve walks them outside, and they meander slowly down the driveway to let her sniff the grass, rocks, flowers, and shrubs. God, it’s so cute. Who walks cats? She’s the best, and Steve’s heart definitely hurts, but he feels better.

It’s the opposite of how he should feel knowing she belongs to Billy, but he clearly knows what he’s doing. The fact that he cares enough about another living being to post fliers looking for her is so strange.

The last time Steve really knew Billy, the guy just wanted everybody to think he was a badass while bullying everyone else and tormenting his sister. Now Max has apparently asked him to get the cat microchipped several times, and it seems to be the only thing Billy has fallen behind on.

And maybe choosing the wrong sitter, but they can seem like the right one until something goes horribly wrong.

It’s a wonder Steve never knew Billy lived so close because he’s still got his old Camaro. It looks like it’s in even better shape than Steve last saw it, and Billy clearly loves it, too, as much of a menace as he is driving it.

But that’s part of the wonder. Steve hasn’t heard Billy’s car in ages, and hoo boy, does he know exactly what it sounds like.

Billy opens the back door, and Sugarloaf hops right in. He closes it, and Steve watches her put her front paws on the center console and bob her head as she looks out of the windshield.

The sun will set soon, and it’s a pretty view, but she likely enjoys looking at everything.

“I’ll let you know when I need a sitter, man,” Billy says and looks at Steve. “Beyond the broken heart and killer writing job, how are things goin’ for you, Stevie?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Oh, uh. Good,” he says. “Really good. A surprise to more than just you.”

“I see you around town sometimes,” Billy says. “With Buckley. I always thought you two were together. Seemed happy.”

“Nope. Just friends. And wildly in platonic love,” Steve says. “It’s possible.”

“I know it is, babe,” Billy laughs. “Didn’t think it was for King Steve.”

“Well, I lost that title. Can’t remember to who… oh, wait,” Steve says. “I guess it must be impossible for you?”

“It isn’t,” Billy says and laughs. “I got my friends here in Indiana. Mostly closer to the city. Still gonna get outta here one of these days. It would’ve been nice before another winter, but that isn’t happening.”

Steve hums. “Back home?”

“Nowhere better, babe,” Billy says. He looks at the sky as it rapidly turns gold and pink, shining off his leather jacket and skin. “I’ll send you those pictures tonight.”

“Thanks,” Steve says and steps back. He smiles at Sugarloaf, then Billy. “Later, man.”

“Stevie,” Billy says and gets in his car. He turns it on and scratches Sugarloaf at his shoulder before he winks at Steve.

He watches them drive off and doesn’t slump his shoulders until Billy turns around a corner. Steve walks back inside, which suddenly seems quiet and lonely, despite a mostly-quiet cat being the only thing that’s gone.

Steve gets dinner and takes his time because he has to text Robin and doesn’t know how. Fortunately, Billy gives him an easy way.

He gets his text when Steve’s halfway through dinner.

Steve tries not to choke on a mouthful of chicken as he looks at the picture. It’s not from tonight because Sugarloaf is wearing a different harness. They’re inside what must be Billy’s place, and Sugarloaf’s tongue is peeking out of her mouth as she stares at something.

Billy put his head close to hers, and his tongue is peeking out of his mouth, which is fitting, but it’s so goddamn… cute and hilarious that it makes Steve laugh.

Saving that. Sending it to everyone I know.

That’s ok. I found your blogs and I’m going through each piece you’ve posted professionally. Cnn Stevie boy?

Can you say you’ve worked for CNN?

Can’t. If I had to pick anyone from our graduating class you would’ve been last on the list

That’s very kind of you. I appreciate it.

I like your writing. Reading “football and why it fucking sucks” right now. Can’t stop laughing

Steve groans and closes his eyes. He sighs and peeks down at his phone before sending another text.

I had 1100 comments on that one last time I looked.

Don’t blame em. You’re a good writer. At least my kid was smart enough to choose your place

That’s not something Steve knows how to take, but he thinks it’s a compliment.

Are you complimenting me?

Is that such a shock after you saved my cat?

Well I guess not? Hmm.

Hmm what babe

It was really tempting to keep her forever. I would’ve burned in hell I know I know. But still tempting.

She’s got that about her. I don’t blame you. Come over sometime and hang out with us

Steve coughs a little and raises his eyebrows. Before he can respond, Billy sends three pictures.

They’re all on his leather couch, and obviously he has one, but Steve is so, so distracted. In the first, Billy’s lying on the couch with his arm behind his head and Sugarloaf, now harness-free, is lying on the armrest behind him.

In the following picture, she’s lying on his shoulder.

And, finally, his chest.

But that first picture. Billy’s shirt is unbuttoned nearly to his navel, and Sugarloaf looks up at the phone. Her green eyes stand out just as much as Billy’s blue eyes do. And he’s got the smoldering thing going on because Billy knows he’s fucking attractive, but Jesus.

He really is.

Steve can only safely send the third one to Robin, and he’s still not comfortable with that. These are his pictures.

So is the peeking tongues one.

I would purely be coming over for your cat. Just want to make that clear.

Crystal babe. I’ll make you two dinner. Candlelight and everything

Steve laughs and covers his mouth. He shakes his head and sighs, wondering what’s wrong with him.

Sweet of you. Send me one from her pov.

Alright, it’s not any better. But Sugarloaf has her eyes closed while she lays on Billy’s chest, but her head is up. Steve can see most of her face and all of Billy’s.

Jesus. The eyes and the hair. He’s even smiling just a bit instead of the other look. Which is a good look; Steve can’t lie, but this one is slightly safer to send to Robin, so he does.

Thanks. I don’t know about dinner. I think me and Sugarloaf might eat way different things.

Huh. You’re right. Guess I’ll make us dinner and Sugar can eat her food with us

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Steve mumbles. “This is very bad.”

Robin’s text scares the life out of him.

NO. FUCKING. WAY.

I KNOW I’M STILL SCREAMING!

AHHH!!

AHHHHH!!!!!

Billy? Like THE BILLY HARGROVE?

The. Billy. Hargrove.

That’s insane. But you know what they say

What do they say Robin.

Guys with soft hearts for animals… they’re the guys you pay attention to. Hehe

Don’t you hehe me. No way.

He’s so sexy Steve. Look at him. I know you are

Nope.

He sent you that pic on purpose. You know he did

Never.

You know I have his number now, right? What if I sent him all your best glam shots? What then

I will murder you.

Guess you better do it yourself boo

Steve holds his hands over his face. He looks down at his phone and switches to Billy’s text, chewing on his lip. Shit.

Let’s say hypothetically speaking that I say yes to dinner. I think it might be torture and I’m not talking about you.

Your never ending love for my cat. Ok. Gotta think this through for a minute
Come over for dinner often
There
How’d I do

“Asshole,” Steve says, laughing.

You did great. But what if that doesn’t work out?

It’s too early to move in Stevie. We just met

Like I’d leave this house I just bought.

Who said anything about that?

Oh so you’re moving in with me? Hmm. It’s good she’s familiar with the place then.

Just what I was thinking. Dinner first

Dinner first. Please don’t make me regret it.

No trust. I’ve only got a fondness for you Steve Harrington. That’s what happens when you save my lady’s life

“Oh, no,” Steve mumbles.

Ok. Then I trust you a little.

Gonna have to be a lot soon

For moving in?

You’re skipping a bunch of steps. Eventually yeah. But if you don’t trust me, how else am I gonna kiss you at the door

Steve’s glad he’s not drinking anything. Still nearly dies where he sits, and it takes him a few minutes to recover. This is not the Billy Hargrove that Steve knows, except it so is, and he’s got no idea what to do about it.

He texts Robin.

What if hypothetically speaking, Billy is flirting and asking to make me dinner?

Then hypothetically speaking why are you texting me instead of accepting

What if I already did?

Then you go to dinner and flirt and let that man be as wild in the sack as we know he is

NOT EVEN GOING THERE. Also he’s sweet. Like Billy’s version of sweet, but he’s sweet. Her name is SUGARLOAF! Maybe he’s not wild and we should take it slow.

He’s completely wild and you’re just gonna have to hold on for that ride. But maybe taking it slow is a good idea

So we shouldn’t be talking about moving in together.

Oh no dingus has found his true love and it’s Billy Hargrove

Nope.

Oh boy

ROBIN

I guess I’ll have to find room in my stone cold heart for Billy Hargrove

Jfc NEVER.

Sure boo. Smooches

Steve sighs and opens Billy’s text. He stares at it for a spell before he smiles and rubs his forehead. He shouldn’t feel this good. Jesus, he really shouldn’t.

They basically have just met again, and they’re obviously different.

But apparently, that works for them.

Let’s see how much trust you build during dinner. Then we’ll think about kisses at the door.

Saturday at 7?

Saturday at 7. I’ll be there.

We’re looking forward to it

Steve goes to bed that night with a grin. He is filled to the brim with absolute terror, but his heart is soaring, and he feels like he’s walking on clouds.

It’s dangerous. He’ll fall and plummet to the ground. More than his heart will break.

It’s naive to think otherwise, isn’t it?

Whatever. Steve’s on cloud nine and doesn’t come down tomorrow or any other day after. Walking up to Billy’s apartment on Saturday at seven kind of feels like walking the plank or walking down the aisle, maybe. Both are considerably nerve-wracking for entirely different reasons.

But Billy never gives him a reason to think he’s feeding him to the sharks. Pretty much the opposite in every way. From how he greets Steve at the door, shows him around, cooks him dinner like he was born confident in a kitchen, and kisses the life out of him later.

Sugarloaf is there through it all. She’s Steve’s lifeline, something to touch when he’s feeling overwhelmed and to remember this is all real and happening.

They have to tell her to find somewhere else to lay when they’re wrapped around each other on the couch. There isn’t much room, and Billy is not an… inattentive kisser.

Jesus, he’s the exact opposite.

Steve eventually has to stop it just because that’s dangerous territory he’s not ready for.

But it makes kissing Billy at the door easy.

Perfect.

What the fuck? How did it even happen?

He’ll never get the image of Billy looking at him like he wanted to devour Steve out of his head, but they’ll do something about it. Maybe.

Probably.

Dear god, Steve hopes so.

——

Taking it slow is not something Billy or Steve are used to doing. Well, maybe Steve is, but it’s slightly different with guys. Steve’s noticed it’s much easier to get frisky early on, depending on the guy.

It can also lead to things fizzling out with a sad, final spark before they’ve even really gotten started.

So, slow it is, baby.

Steve’s still in shock it’s Billy three weeks into seeing him. Billy the cat-dad, Billy the weirdly sweet but still horrendously himself guy, and Billy, the person Steve is dating.

Dating.

They’ve gone on a couple of dates, but Steve mostly goes to Billy’s, which is easy because he’s done with work before Billy is. Billy comes to his place twice, bringing Sugarloaf, but it’s a lot harder to see him out of the door.

Steve didn’t want him to go, and that is the opposite of how he’s ever looked at Billy. But it’s an incredible difference. Jesus, Billy isn’t anything like Steve thought he was. He wanted everyone to believe he was a certain way, but he didn’t fly through high school with excellent grades and saunter across the stage with honors for nothing.

He’s way more intelligent than Steve, but Billy’s stubbornness tends to put him down to Steve’s level anyway. But now that they’re working together versus against each other, Steve sees just how different Billy is. Not only smarts, but his work ethic, how he handles Max these days, his gentleness with his cat and their strong bond, and most of all, how he is with Steve.

Infuriating. Such a jackass. Constantly screwing around.

Steve likes those things now because they come from a way different place. Billy is also kind, hilarious, and warm and touches Steve. Like, all the time.

He becomes another anchor Steve can hold onto when it’s overwhelming, and he needs to be reminded it’s real.

After a couple of months, Steve wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

On a Friday afternoon a week before Christmas, Steve is hard at work in his office. More people are home this week, which means more articles and blog posts. He’s been working an extra hour in the morning and evening to keep up with everything, including his own brand.

It’s exhausting, and Steve is looking forward to next week. He has the entire week off unless insanity happens, but he doubts it will. Billy is the assistant manager at the big garage he works in, so he has to work next Monday and Tuesday, but then it’s just them.

Just them for almost an entire week, and they don’t plan to spend it anywhere but at each other’s sides.

Steve yawns and rubs his eyes. His phone buzzes, and Steve grabs it, seeing Billy’s name. He opens the text and sees a picture of a book. He raises his eyebrows.

It’s one of those erotic novels with the bad paintings of a super-macho, muscle-bulging man and a wickedly hot woman with no ribcage holding onto the man’s side.

A NIGHT TO NEVER FORGET

A piece of paper is sitting on the author’s name, and Steve sees his name scrawled in Billy’s handwriting.

Stevie I can’t believe this

Steve covers his face and shakes his head. God, he hates his stupid boyfriend. He loves his stupid boyfriend. He loves everything about Billy, but he definitely hates him.

Please tell me you didn’t go to the library just to do this.

I bought it just to do this babe. It’s under your pillow

“Oh, Jesus,” Steve says, laughing. He saves his work and gets up, walking down the hallway to the bedroom. He flips on the light and walks to the bed, lifting up his pillow.

Yup. Book there. Billy even taped down the paper with Steve’s name on it. Steve grabs it and blinks when something falls out of it and to the floor. He reaches down, grabs a loop of fabric with a tiny plastic piece on it, and frowns as he looks at the front.

A thin metal ring on a pet collar just waiting for a tag to be added.

Steve stares at it, his heart thumping away before he pulls out his phone. Billy has sent a few more texts.

My vet is taking in a prego cat. She’s due in a couple of weeks. Healthy and so are the kittens so far. She’ll do all the work until they’re 8 weeks and promises me the cream of the crop
You don’t have to make a decision but you’ve got a few months to think about it

It’s ok if you don’t want one too

He looks between Billy’s texts and the tiniest collar he’s ever seen in his life, dangling on his thumb. Steve blinks a few times before he smiles and shakes his head.

I hate the book but I’m going to start reading it tonight. Love the collar. It’s not too soon to get a pet together?

They’ll be yours. Still a few months away. But I don’t plan on fucking this up. Do you?

Never.

Right on. Come kiss me

I will kiss you when you get off work you menace.

I’m going to freeze my nuts off out here

Steve blinks before he looks down the hall. “No way,” he says, trying not to slide on the hardwood floors in his socks. He crosses the house and down the entrance to the front door, yanking it open.

“Harrington?”

He laughs and grabs the collar of Billy’s coat, pulling him inside. Steve kisses him before the door is closed, which is difficult because Billy’s nose is freezing, his jacket is caught on the doorknob, and they keep laughing.

They make it work.

Through many big and small surprises, Steve and Billy make it work.

Sugarloaf helps, but only when she needs to give them a little nudge in the right direction.