Work Text:
The first time Brad Colbert officially met Ray Person was at ten in the morning on a Saturday afternoon in mid-July. They were next door neighbors, had been for about six months, and knew next to nothing about each other besides the fact that they were both cat people.
Brad's cat - Dexter - was an orange long haired tabby cat, and was probably the most relaxed go-with-anything cat Brad had ever met. Nothing seemed to bother him, except being kept inside. Just like any cat that's allowed outside once, Dexter was constantly scratching and whining at the doors leading outside.
Ray's cat - Luna - was nearly the exact opposite. She was a black short haired cat, that, while she liked to be pet once in awhile, would run away and maximum cat speed when you tried to pick her up or scratch her any where but the top of the head. She liked to be outside, though, more so than Dexter, and would escape through any open window or slightly cracked door.
So, when Brad was still half asleep, sitting at his kitchen table slowly drinking a glass of orange juice, the last thing he expected to hear was someone banging loudly on his front door. Standing up only when the person on the other side stopped turning his black painted door into a drum set, Brad answered the door.
Ray - his words slightly influenced by all the Ripped Fuel he'd taken late last night - launched into his explanation, telling Brad, in short that their cats had totally banged a few weeks ago and that he'd taken Luna to the vet this morning and homes, we're gonna be parents!
Brad's first response was to sigh and slowly blink his tired -haven't-had-his-morning-coffee- eyes. "Fuck."
Sat at Brad's kitchen table, Ray was lounging. He seemed so at home Brad had to wonder what he was like in public, or around people he didknow.
"You want a coffee or somethin'?" Brad asked, turning to his kitchen cupboards.
Ray shrugged and taking that as a no, Brad prepared his own cup. "Y'know," Ray pondered, "We've been neighbours for - how long?" It didn't sound like a question so Brad stayed silent. That seemed to be something Ray was good at, asking questions without really wanting the answers to them. "And this is the first time you've invited me over?" Ray faked scandalization. Brad, without turning around could tell by the tsking sound Ray was making, that he was shaking his head, "Your cat -" Ray paused, and there was enough of a silence for Brad to turn around from his coffee maker, hot cup of coffee in his hands.
"Dexter." he said, sitting down across from Ray, answering the unsaid question.
"Good name." Ray complimented, "Your cat," he began again, "Dexter only had to knock up mine for you to invite me over." A grin grew on his face as he shook his head again in almost a scolding way.
Brad grinned a toothy grin back. Raising his coffee to his lips he said, "I know my manners."
"So, apparently cat pregnancies last like, two months, and it's your fault for letting your cat outside all the time, so, I wanted to know what the fuck you wanted to do about all the kittens that are going to be here in like 60 days because I'm not dealing with them all myself." Ray seemed to talk so fast Brad wondered if he was even aware of the fact that he hardly seemed to ever breathe.
Brad sighed, resting his elbows on his kitchen table, "It's your cat, Ray, in the end - it's your decision."
Ray leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his face, "Why the fuck did I get a cat?"
By the time the two months were up Ray had seen the inside of the local vet, what he'd exaggerate to be, one thousand times.
It was really more like eight.
The vet had constantly reminded Ray that when Luna seemed to be - what they like to call - nesting, that he should make sure to keep her inside. That meant; no open windows, no doors open for an extended period of time. Ray - who never seemed to be responsible enough to close his windows or lock his doors at night was now responsible for making sure his cat had her litter in one of Ray's closets instead of outside somewhere. He could seem to find an up side to either of these scenarios.
The first pained cat noise happened at two in the morning in Ray's bedroom closet, and upon hearing it, Ray shot out of bed, and without putting pants or shoes on, left his house, and went directly to Brad's. Ringing the doorbell twice, he waited, leaning against the door frame, for Brad to answer.
The door swung open to reveal a very tired and pissed off Brad with a orange tabby cat cradled in his arms like a baby. "Ray? What the fuck?"
"You ever hear a cat giving birth?" Ray asked, his lean against the door frame was slipping as he tiredly let himself sag against the support. "Because," yawn, "It might be in the top ten of grossest sounds I've ever heard."
"Oh yeah?" Brad raised an eyebrow and ushered Ray inside, to which he complied drowsily. Shutting the door behind him, Brad set Dexter down on the floor and they both watched in silence and the feline meowed quietly and ran back up the stairs. "What are the other nine?"
Ray smirked, a tired huff of air coming through his noise, which Brad assumed to be the beginning of laughter. "Homes, you don't even wanna know."
Brad shrugged at this, on any other time of day, he'd of asked for answers, but he was too damn tired. "So - right now?"
Ray's shoulders slumped, "Uh huh." he mumbled, yawning again. "Shouldn't we like," yawn, "call the vet?" he asked.
Ray's incessant yawning made Brad mirror him, "No," he said, like it was obvious and turned around to look at the digital clock on his microwave, watching the time go from 2:59 to 3:00. "Vet's closed." he said, like Ray couldn't guess.
"Fuck."
"You couldn't think of that in your own house?" Brad wondered, sitting down at his spot at the kitchen table, Ray slowly lowering himself into the spot across from him, where he shrugged again.
"When you hear an animal make a sound like that at two in the mor-"
"Three." Brad cut him off, making his annoyance at being up at the hour apparent.
"At three in the morning," Ray repeated, and it sounded slightly like he was mocking him. "You're not really thinking about the time."
"But you were able to think enough to get your hick ass out off bed, and run over here." Brad reiterated like he was talking to a child, save for the part about his hick ass.
"I wouldn't even give myself that much credit," Ray shook his head, looking stupidly proud of himself, "I'm not even wearing pants."
"Jesus fucking Christ."