Work Text:
“Can I get a cat?” Neil’s voice was slightly robotic through the speaker of Andrew’s phone, no doubt due to him making his way out of the athletes’ parking garage at the stadium. He seemed distracted– probably waiting for the gate to open to let him out. He was always grumping about how slow it was.
“What?” Andrew asked, getting out of his own car at his apartment in Chicago. Did he hear that correctly?
Neil repeated, “Can I get a cat?” He didn’t elaborate.
One thing Andrew usually appreciated about Neil was his brevity. After living out of each other’s pockets for four years in college, Neil had gotten used to their unspoken conversations. He never asked Andrew unnecessary questions (unlike Kevin) or felt the need to fill every empty silence with mindless chatter (unlike Nicky). Most of the time, Andrew could understand what Neil was thinking or feeling just by observing his face and his behavior– no words required.
Sometimes, though, Neil forgot that Andrew wasn’t actually reading his mind. He needed to read Neil’s body language to hear what his mouth wasn’t saying.
Andrew was lost. “What?” he asked again, incredulously.
“Allison said I should get a cat because she thinks I’m lonely,” Neil explained. That made sense, when Andrew thought about it. It was Neil’s first year playing professional Exy and his second living on his own, without his Fox family.
“What does that have to do with me? Why are you asking for my permission?”
“Oh,” Neil said, then paused. “Well, if I get a cat, then whenever we both sign to the same team you’ll have to live with the cat too,” he said. “So I wanted to make sure it was okay with you before I did anything.”
Ah . Neil has always been extremely attuned to Andrew’s wants and boundaries, always accommodating. Why would this be any different?
Neil continued, “But if you don’t want a cat, then I won’t get one. Or we don’t have to live together if I do get a cat. I just thought it might be nice… But I know how important it is for you to have your own space.”
Andrew sighed. Scratch that, Neil has always been infuriatingly considerate of Andrew’s boundaries. “Fine. Yes, bunny, we can get a cat.” He was entirely certain that Neil would pick up on the promise and reassurance in the subtle change of pronoun from you to we .
Neil’s voice was soft, and the small smile on his face was almost audible when he said, “Okay. Thank you, Drew.”
“Don’t thank me, bunny. Do whatever you need to do, and I will deal with it when I need to. If I need to.” Andrew put the phone briefly on speaker so he could toe off his shoes and shrug off his jacket. Then, just to be sure– “Do you actually want a cat,” he asked, “or are you just going to get one because Allison says you should?”
Neil laughed quietly, then was quiet for a moment as he thought. “I never got to have a pet as a kid. Obviously I couldn’t while Mom and I were on the run. But even when I was a little kid, my d– Nathan– never let me have one. I think he hated animals.” Neil sighed. “It was probably a good thing, though. If he liked to hurt Mom and I for fun, I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to a pet.”
Andrew didn’t think the rage he felt at the mention of Nathan would ever dissipate. In fact, he hoped it didn’t. That way, it would always push him to do anything and everything in his power to ensure Neil never had to endure that kind of cruelty again.
There was a pause and some shuffling as Neil presumably parked and got out of the car. “I think it would be good for me,” he said eventually, “to have something to take care of. To come home to. I mean, you know I don’t really know how to be alone. I’ve never really had to be.”
Andrew did know. “Alright,” he said definitively. “Then let’s get a cat.”
— — —
Six weeks later, Andrew flew down to Atlanta. There was a two-week-long midseason break for the winter holidays, and they had plans to spend Christmas with Kevin, Bee, Abby, Wymack, and whatever baby Foxes stuck around for the holiday.
The last ten days, though, would just be him and Neil, and he was impatient to finally be back with his little menace for more than just the one or two days at a time that the Exy season normally allowed.
The extended break meant that Neil was set on finally adopting a cat, which, of course, was how Andrew found himself at the Atlanta humane society, nose to nose with a very small, very hissy, fluffy white-gray tabby cat. Yes, ten days of just him, Neil, and whatever little furball wormed its way into Neil’s heart and his wallet and his apartment.
“They told me she’s been here for about five months already because she’s semi-feral,” came Neil’s voice from behind Andrew, the door to the free-roam room clanging closed behind him. “They think she’s around a year old now. Said she used to be a street cat.”
The semi-feral cat in question was, naturally, the one with whom Andrew had been having a staring contest. She startled at the sudden loud noise, skittered down from her perch on the cat tree in front of him, and dove underneath it.
“Apparently she doesn’t like people very much, and she hisses whenever anyone tries to touch her,” Neil continued, watching the cat descend and hide.
Andrew snorted. Yeah, he learned that bit of information about ten minutes ago. He turned around to face Neil and raised his eyebrows slightly in a gesture Neil correctly interpreted as a sign to continue.
“She only trusts a couple of the volunteers, and they’re the only ones that can get close to her or touch her.” Neil plopped down to sit on the floor across from the cat tree.
Andrew joined his partner on the ground, leaning down to resume his prolonged eye contact with the small cat. “She seems a bit difficult,” he said distractedly, not really meaning it. He stared at her, and she stared right back.
Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw a small, fondly amused smile stretch across Neil’s face. “Sounds a little bit like someone else I know,” he teased.
Neil leaned forward until he, too, could see the cat under the tree. As soon as he did, she turned away and feigned disinterest in them, cleaning her face with her paws, but they both knew she was on high alert. As they observed her, Andrew thought he could see another cat behind her, this one black or maybe dark gray, hiding in the shadows. But it was hard to be certain, and it didn’t seem like she was the kind of cat to make very many friends.
After a minute, Andrew sat back upright and said, “Two dozen cats available for adoption, and you want this one.” It didn’t sound quite like a question, but Neil knew it was one anyway.
Neil ducked his head down, shoulders nearly touching his ears, and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah?”
“Of course you do,” Andrew muttered. He let out a long, dramatic, put-upon sigh. “Whatever. I’m already stuck with one feral creature, for the foreseeable future,” he said. “Might as well make it two.”
Neil’s head snapped around to face him. His eyebrows were pinched together in concern, like he was worried Andrew was actually upset, but he was put at ease almost immediately when he saw the tiny wry smile on Andrew’s face that indicated he was teasing.
Neil bumped his shoulder into Andrew’s, then gave up and leaned more of his weight so he rested against Andrew’s side. “We can’t let you get bored,” he joked back.
“You,” Andrew accused, “are a full-time job. There is no way I could ever be bored of you.”
He froze. Oops , he thought. He had meant to say with , not of , and the second sentence came out much softer than he had intended. He felt the tops of his ears get a little warmer at the realization. Damn it, he really hoped Neil wouldn’t notice.
He found he couldn’t really care about the slip-up, though, when Neil beamed at him. He held the other man’s gaze for a few seconds and couldn’t quite control the small smile that tugged at his lips.
After a beat, he stood up and offered a hand to help Neil up. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go see who we need to talk to.”
Neil grabbed the offered hand but hesitated to stand. “Are you sure, Drew? If you don’t like her, I won’t do it. She’d be yours, too,” he said, his eyes searching Andrew’s face for any sign of uncertainty.
There was none to find.
“Eh. She’s difficult, I’m difficult. Like recognizes like, or whatever,” Andrew said dismissively. When Neil didn’t budge, he said more seriously, “You made up your mind. I will not fight you on that.” He tugged lightly on Neil’s hand. “If you say it’s this one, then it’s this one.”
Neil levered himself up off the ground with Andrew’s help. “Okay,” he grinned, “let’s go.”
They didn’t have to go far. Mac, the volunteer that brought them into the free-roam cat room, was making their way back down the hallway just as Andrew and Neil stepped out. They seemed surprised, but thrilled, that the two of them were interested in adopting the shelter’s resident problem child.
“Not to discourage you or anything, but there are probably a few more things I should tell you about her before we get into paperwork,” Mac said. They stepped back through the door into the cat room, gesturing for Neil and Andrew to follow.
Andrew raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Neil met his gaze briefly before turning back to Mac. “Oh?” he asked. “Like what?”
Mac knelt down in front of the cat tree and extended a hand out. “So we’ve been calling her Ann, like Raggedy Ann— we think she’s part ragdoll.”
Hesitantly, Ann poked her nose out from her hiding spot and sniffed Mac’s fingers. She refused to emerge, though, eying Neil warily when he shuffled forward to watch the interaction. He snorted a laugh and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Got it, sorry, I’ll stay over here ma’am,” he said to the cat.
Mac chuckled. They reached into one of the pockets of their vest and produced a small treat, which they held out in offer to Ann. She looked back and forth between the treat and Neil several times. When she was satisfied that he would stay put, she slowly wiggled her body out from under the tree to approach the treat.
When she was done munching, she sat down at Mac’s feet, looking up at them and waiting for another snack. Mac instead reached down to gently scratch under the cat’s chin with one finger, which Ann accepted happily.
“Like I said earlier, she only trusts a few of us,” Mac said as they moved to sit down cross-legged. “I’m one of the longest tenured volunteers, so I was here when she was brought into the shelter.”
“Has she gotten any better with trusting people since then?” Neil asked.
“A bit, but she’s still pretty wary of complete strangers like you guys,” Mac said, and gestured a hand toward Neil and Andrew.
Ann took that opportunity to crawl into Mac’s lap and plop down. Neil smiled and slowly sat down a foot or so away from Mac, and Andrew sat to his right. He carefully stretched out a hand, pausing a few inches from Ann’s face to let her decide if she wanted to close the gap. She hesitated for a moment, but she eventually leaned forward and sniffed Neil’s hand. Whatever she found there seemed to appease her. She lifted her chin up ever so slightly.
Neil smiled and gently petted her under the chin a couple of times. She tolerated it for only a few seconds, though, and dropped her chin back down toward her body. Neil pulled away instantly.
She seemed to recover quickly, though, and Andrew tentatively reached out a hand to her. Her only response was to stare back at him, unblinking.
Andrew huffed a small laugh and dropped his hand back to his knee.
Mac smiled. “Have either of you ever had a cat before?” They seemed surprised when both men shook their heads no. “Really? Huh. You both seem to understand cat behavior pretty well.”
“Body language meaning ‘no’ is pretty universal,” Andrew said with a shrug.
Ann let out a short, high-pitched meow as if she agreed.
Neil laughed. Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, he was interrupted by another short croaky meow. It hadn’t come from Ann, but rather seemed like it originated under the cat tree.
Ann jumped off Mac’s lap and stuck her head back under the tree, sniffing at something.
“Is there another cat down there?” Andrew asked.
Mac smiled sadly. “Right, so, that’s one of the things I wanted to mention.” Ann wiggled her little body backward away from the tree, and Mac reached down underneath it. They pulled out a small, skinny, scruffy black cat and brought it to their lap. “This is Andy.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Littermate?”
“We don’t think so, but they are around the same age. Andy came to us about a week after Ann. At first, Ann seemed pretty wary of Andy, and he didn’t really trust her either. After a few days, though, they became nearly inseparable.” Andy seemed to be shaking slightly out of fear, and Mac ran a soothing hand down his back.
Ann inched forward toward him and started licking the top of his head to comfort him. “She’s very protective of him,” Mac continued. “We consider them a bonded pair now.”
Of course they were. Andrew’s eyes snapped up to his partner’s face. Neil’s eyebrows were pinched together in the middle as he listened.
“What does that mean?” Neil asked. “Bonded pair?”
“Think of it like best friends. Family. Partners in crime,” Mac said with a wry smile. “They take care of each other, protect each other from any outside threats, stuff like that.”
Neil smirked. “Sounds a little like someone else I know,” he said again, turning to Andrew. The smirk turned into a faux-innocent smile when he found Andrew was already looking at him.
Mac laughed good-naturedly at the sour expression that took over Andrew’s face. He glared at Neil for a few seconds before turning to Mac to ask, “So they’re a boxed set?”
Neil seemed puzzled again. “What do you mean?”
There was a sigh, and Mac shifted to place both cats in their lap. “That was the other thing I needed to mention,” they said, then turned to address Neil. “With bonded pairs, it’s pretty common for one or both of the cats to show signs of stress or even some sort of grief if they’re separated from each other.” They paused to scratch behind the cats’ ears. “We’ve been trying to adopt them out together over the last few months. Since Ann isn’t very friendly, it’s hard to get interest in her, let alone her and a second cat.” They trailed off sadly.
“Oh,” Neil said, voice soft. “I don’t know…”
Mac nodded, a sad smile on their face. “Since it’s been so long, we’ve agreed as a staff that it’s alright if they’re adopted out individually. We’ve been a little low on funding the last several months, and we aren’t sure how long we can justify keeping them indefinitely. They both deserve a chance at a good home, and most people aren’t willing to take on both of them at the same time. It might be in their best interest to go separately if that’s what it takes to get them the love they deserve.”
There was a minute of silence as Neil considered, eyes lowered to the floor in thought. It was obvious to Andrew that he was conflicted– Neil would hate to separate the two of them, but would two cats be wise for a first-time pet parent who travelled often for work?
And, knowing him as well as Andrew did, he was certain Neil was hung up on the fact that Andrew agreed to adopt a cat, not cats plural .
Andrew broke the silence. “You can’t let her get lonely when you leave for away games,” he said nonchalantly. “She’ll need someone to keep her company.”
Neil looked at him with wide eyes, unsure if Andrew was implying what Neil thought he was.
Andrew rolled his eyes at his partner. “Can your newfound motherly instincts handle twins?” he deadpanned.
The grin that stretched across Neil’s face was practically contagious, and Andrew felt a small smile take over his own expression.
Delightedly, Neil turned to Mac. “Andrew will go with you to fill out the paperwork,” he informed them.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “I will?”
“Of course you will. I’m a new mom, I just gave birth!” Neil argued.
Andrew rolled his eyes but got up off the floor nonetheless. “Whatever you say, dear,” he snarked.
Mac cackled. They gently dislodged the cats from their lap and stood as well. “Come on, Dad,” they said, leading Andrew back through the door of the free-roam room and toward the lobby. “Let’s get you to sign the birth certificates!”