Chapter Text
Wade noticed that something was strange (well, stranger than usual) on a Monday morning when Mittens failed to show up for their breakfast ritual. Not the ritual where she actually ate anything he offered – she was far too dignified for that – but the ritual where she sat on the fire escape outside their bedroom window and judged him with all the disdain of a critic reviewing a gas station hot dog.
"Huh," he said, peeking through the blinds at the empty fire escape. "Weird. Mittens is usually here by now."
Logan left the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth. "Maybe she found better entertainment."
"Better entertainment than me? Hell no. Not possible."
By Wednesday, Mittens was back, but something was definitely wrong with her. She was in her normal spot, sure, but she looked…wrong. Sadder. She also kept making small, pitiful sneeze-like sounds that were breaking Wade's heart.
"Lo," he called. "I think Mittens is sick."
"She's a stray cat, Wilson. Probably just has allergies or somethin'. Happens this time'a year."
"This time of year? It's October. What's she allergic to, leaves? The existential dread of winter approaching?"
"Cats get sick. S'what they do. Part'a bein' alive."
"That's a very fatalistic attitude, Logan. I'm worried about your lack of compassion for our furry neighbor."
"She's not our neighbor, she's a stray who figured out you're a sucker for anything with four legs and a fuckin' sob story."
"I am not a sucker! I am a patron of the animal kingdom with refined tastes in freeloading felines!"
"Right." Logan grabbed his keys from the counter. "Don't feed her. She ain't your pet."
"I wasn't planning to feed her!" Wade called after him. "I was just planning to…observe! Study!"
The door closed behind Logan with a click, leaving Wade alone with his anxiety and a cat who was decidedly sick.
By Friday, Wade's anxiety had escalated all the way to panic. Mittens was on the fire escape, sure, but she looked even worse. Her pretty green eyes were watery and half-closed, her breathing seemed harsher, and she'd barely moved from one spot all day. She'd also lost weight – not that she'd been particularly "chonky" (to quote Wade) to begin with, but now she looked…thin.
"Okay, Mittens," he said, cracking the window so that she could hear him. "I'm sorry, but you look like microwaved roadkill. I mean that with love. And concern. And maybe a little judgment, but only because I care."
When Logan walked through the door, Wade was waiting. "Before you say anything, I need you to look at Mittens, with your eyeballs, and then try to tell me she doesn't need our help."
Logan sighed. "Wilson–"
"No. Nope. Look first, judge later. That's the rule. Just made it up." He grabbed Logan's arm and hauled his ass to the window. "Observe the evidence before rendering your verdict, Your Honor."
Logan looked out at where Mittens was a sad little lump of black and white fur and was quiet for a while. "She's not our cat."
"She's not not our cat, either. Look, I told you, she's like…a neighbor. A furry neighbor who happens to live outside but who relies on us for moral support and occasional entertainment."
"Moral support."
"Yes! And occasional entertainment! I dance for her sometimes when you're at work. She seems to enjoy it. Or at least she hasn't left yet."
Logan rubbed his temples, where a headache was slowly beginning to build. "Wade, we can't just…adopt every fuckin' stray animal that shows up."
"I'm not talking about adoption! I'm talking about basic humanitarian – feline-itarian? – medical care. We help her get better, then she goes back to it."
"Vet bills ain't cheap."
"I have money, I do paying jobs! I can afford to help one small, sick cat! Come on, Lo. Look at her. She's miserable."
Mittens turned her head toward the window and let out a soft, wet mew.
"Fine," Logan finally huffed out. "We take her to a vet, get her fixed up, but that's it. She ain't our cat."
Wade's face lit up. "Really? You'll help her?"
"I'll help you help her. There's a difference."
"Semantics! Irrelevant semantics! So, we need a plan. A cat-capture plan. How are you with tactical feline extraction?"
Logan stared at him. "With what?"