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The house is suspiciously quiet.
Which, according to Jonathan Byers, is never a good sign.
“Steve,” he calls from the kitchen, already tense.
“Where’s Eric?”
Steve is on the living room floor, attempting to construct what looks like a structurally questionable pillow fort.
“Somewhere adorably dangerous, I assume.”
Jonathan does not laugh.
Because Eric learned to crawl two weeks ago.
And Flash is in the house.
Flash.
Small gray kitten. White patch on his chest. White socks on his front paws. Ears slightly too big for his head. Restless tail. Very long whiskers.
Jonathan was not prepared to have a baby and a kitten at the same time.
But Steve had said, very confidently:
“We’re a weird family. We need at least one feline.”
And now here they are.
Jonathan hears it.
A soft tap tap tap against the hardwood floor.
Then a tiny giggle.
He freezes.
Slowly steps into the hallway.
And there—
There is Eric.
Halfway between the living room and the bedroom. Determined crawl. Bib crooked. One sock missing. Dangerous smile.
And in front of him—
Flash.
Sitting.
Watching.
Very still.
Jonathan’s soul leaves his body.
“Oh no.”
Steve appears behind him.
“Oh yes.”
“Steve, he’s not running.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“What if he doesn’t know he’s supposed to run?”
Steve rests his chin on Jonathan’s shoulder.
“Trust him. Flash isn’t dumb.”
Flash tilts his head.
Eric advances.
Small hands slapping the floor enthusiastically.
“Eric…” Jonathan whispers, voice tight. “Sweetheart, slow down…”
Eric squeals happily.
Flash does not move.
Jonathan enters soft panic mode.
“Steve, do something.”
“What do you want me to do? Give him a lecture on advanced feline theory?”
Eric is right in front of Flash now.
They stare at each other.
Time pauses.
Flash slow-blinks.
Eric beams.
Jonathan is ready to dive in and separate the inevitable.
But then—
Flash leans forward.
And curls up.
Right next to Eric.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Like he understands this is a very small human.
Eric freezes for half a second.
Then bursts into laughter.
Jonathan blinks.
“What…?”
Flash presses his head against Eric’s leg.
Steve smiles softly.
“Told you.”
Jonathan is still not breathing.
Eric lifts one hand.
And drops it.
Directly.
Onto the kitten’s face.
Jonathan makes a sound that is not human.
“ERIC!”
Too late.
Tiny fingers tangle into—
Whiskers.
Flash goes completely still.
Jonathan stops breathing.
Eric frowns.
Gives a small tug.
Flash blinks.
Doesn’t scratch.
Doesn’t run.
Just swishes his tail slowly.
Jonathan drops to his knees.
“Gentle, baby… gentle…”
Eric doesn’t understand the word.
But he understands the tone.
He loosens his grip slightly.
Flash takes the opportunity to scoot closer.
Rubs against Eric’s belly.
Jonathan blinks again.
“Is he… protecting him?”
Steve watches like he’s witnessing fine art.
“I think so.”
Eric reaches again.
This time he doesn’t pull.
He just brushes the whiskers lightly.
They tickle his palm.
Eric squeals.
Flash answers with a soft meow.
Jonathan laughs nervously.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s adorable.”
“He could scratch him.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Steve looks at him.
“Because he chose him.”
Jonathan frowns.
“What?”
“Flash chose him.”
It sounds ridiculous.
But Flash—the tiny chaos machine on most days—is completely still.
Almost solemn.
Eric leans forward.
Loses balance.
Jonathan lunges instinctively.
But Flash is faster.
He shifts under Eric’s chest like a furry cushion.
Eric falls.
On kitten.
Flash absorbs it.
Jonathan is already there.
“Eric!”
The baby blinks.
Then smiles.
Flash shakes himself.
Doesn’t run.
Stays.
Jonathan stares in disbelief.
“That had to hurt…”
Flash looks at him like: I’m fine.
Steve kneels beside them.
“We have a weird little pack.”
Jonathan looks at him.
Steve smiles, voice soft.
“But it’s ours.”
Eric laughs again.
And then—
Grabs the whiskers again.
Jonathan lets out another nervous laugh.
“I cannot believe this is happening.”
Flash, now more comfortable, rolls over.
Exposes his belly.
Jonathan widens his eyes.
“No, don’t teach him that—”
Eric touches the soft fur.
Flash makes a strange vibrating sound.
A purr.
It hums through the floor.
Eric feels it.
His eyes go wide.
He leans forward.
Presses his cheek against the kitten.
Jonathan’s heart melts instantly.
Flash purrs louder.
Eric closes his eyes for a second.
Like this is the most natural thing in the world.
Steve whispers:
“This is illegally adorable.”
Jonathan wipes at his eyes discreetly.
“I’m not crying.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Shut up.”
Eric sits up clumsily.
Wobbles.
Studies the whiskers again with deep scientific focus.
One.
Two.
Three.
Jonathan laughs softly.
“He’s counting.”
“Or plotting world domination.”
A whisker twitches.
Eric gasps.
Tracks it carefully.
Then tries to blow on it.
With bonus drool.
Flash blinks.
Jonathan nearly dies.
“Steve, the drool—”
“It’s liquid love.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Flash leans forward.
And deliberately rubs his whiskers across Eric’s nose.
Eric freezes.
Silence.
Then—
He sneezes.
A perfect tiny sneeze.
Jonathan and Steve burst into laughter.
Eric looks offended.
Flash does it again.
Eric tries to grab him.
Misses.
Laughs instead.
Jonathan finally sits on the floor.
No longer panicking.
Just watching.
Flash is officially glued to Eric now.
Every time Eric shifts, Flash adjusts.
If Eric leans too far, Flash positions himself.
If Eric tries to stand, Flash curls around his leg.
“He’s guarding him,” Jonathan whispers.
“Told you.”
Jonathan watches his son.
Remembers being small.
Remembers feeling like he had to be strong all the time.
Remembers not having something that simply stayed.
Eric yawns.
Flash yawns too.
In sync.
Jonathan smiles.
Eric leans forward again.
This time he doesn’t fall.
He just rests.
Against the kitten.
Flash stays.
Purring.
Jonathan reaches out.
Gently pets the kitten’s head.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Flash flicks his tail.
Steve wraps an arm around Jonathan’s shoulders.
Rests his forehead against his hair.
“Told you we needed a cat.”
Jonathan smiles softly.
“I wasn’t ready for this.”
“No one ever is.”
Eric grabs the whiskers again.
But this time—
Soft.
Almost reverent.
Flash doesn’t protest.
He stays.
Because he already decided.
That tiny human is his.
Jonathan watches them.
And understands something.
They aren’t alone.
They never truly were.
But this feels different.
Fuller.
Eric sighs softly.
Closes his eyes.
Falls asleep.
Curled against the kitten.
Flash doesn’t move.
Steve whispers:
“We have a weird little pack.”
Jonathan smiles.
Looks at his son.
Looks at the cat.
Looks at Steve.
“The best one.”
Flash purrs.
And this time—
Jonathan doesn’t panic.
He just stays there.
Watching his son discover the world.
One whisker at a time.