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The first sign that something strange was happening was that Jet stopped sleeping on Maverick’s head.
For the past six months, the little black cat had considered Pete Mitchell’s pillow her personal property. Every night, she curled up there, wrapped her tail around her nose, and forced Maverick to wake up with fur in his mouth. If he tried to move her, Jet dug her claws into the pillowcase and released a growl that did not seem possible for an animal weighing less than nine pounds.
But that week, she abandoned her usual spot.
“She traded you for the closet,” Jake said one morning, leaning against the bedroom doorway with a cup of coffee in his hands.
Maverick was kneeling in front of the open closet. Jet remained hidden behind a pile of sweatshirts, staring at him with two yellow eyes that warned him not to come any closer.
“He’s acting strange.”
“He’s a cat. Acting strange is part of the job description.”
“He isn’t usually like this.”
Jake took a drink to hide his smile. Maverick insisted on talking about Jet as if the cat were a young, rebellious pilot whose behavior he could understand through instinct and experience.
Maverick had found Jet under a truck several months earlier, soaked by the rain. He had returned home with the animal tucked inside his jacket.
Jake had only asked if he intended to keep him.
Jet had answered by jumping onto Jake’s chest, kneading his shirt, and falling asleep beneath his chin.
Since then, the three of them had lived together.
Unofficially, of course.
Jake still had an apartment on the other side of the city. Maverick kept an empty drawer for him, although Jake’s clothes already occupied three-quarters of the closet. Some nights, Jake left, claiming that he needed to check his mail or water a plant that had probably died six months ago.
He always returned before breakfast with some excuse, a bag of pastries, and the satisfied expression of someone who had finally come home.
Neither of them talked about it.
Jet did not talk about it either. He simply slept between them and stole most of the bed.
“Maybe he’s cold,” Jake suggested.
“We live in San Diego.”
“Maybe he’s a dramatic cat.”
Maverick turned his head.
“Male cat.”
“Of course. A dramatic male cat.”
Jet meowed from the back of the closet, and Jake raised his coffee cup in surrender.
The second sign was Jet’s appetite.
Jet began demanding food at all hours. She sat in front of her empty bowl and released cries loud enough to trigger an alarm at the base. If no one responded, she searched for Maverick, bit his shoelaces, and led him into the kitchen.
Jake insisted that it was not hunger. It was emotional manipulation.
Maverick served Jet another portion anyway.
The third sign arrived on Friday night, when Jet disappeared.
Maverick searched the house three times. He looked beneath the beds, behind the couch, in the garage, and even inside the refrigerator because he had once found a cat there as a child and had never forgotten it.
Jake searched the yard with a flashlight while trying to remain calm for both of them.
“The windows are closed,” Jake said when he returned. “He couldn’t have gotten outside.”
“The garage door was open this afternoon.”
“For five minutes, Mav.”
“Five minutes is enough.”
“Maybe for you. Jet is afraid of dry leaves.”
Maverick ran both hands through his hair. He wore an old T-shirt, sweatpants, and an expression Jake had only seen after especially dangerous flights.
“I should’ve taken him to the vet when he started hiding.”
Jake left the flashlight on the table and took Maverick’s wrists.
“We’ll find him.”
“Jake…”
“We’ll find him,” Jake repeated more gently. “This house has more hiding places than it should because a certain captain collects boxes, motorcycle parts, and jackets he hasn’t worn since 1986. Jet is here. Breathe.”
Maverick obeyed.
Not because he liked the order, but because Jake’s hands were holding him.
Then they heard a cry.
It was so faint that both men froze.
A second cry came from the bedroom.
Jake grabbed the flashlight. Maverick reached the closet first, pulled open one of the doors, and stopped so suddenly that Jake crashed into his back.
Jet was lying inside a cardboard box that, until that afternoon, had contained scarves and old photographs. She had made a nest using one of Maverick’s sweatshirts, one of Jake’s T-shirts, and the sock they had been searching for during the past two weeks.
Her black body curled protectively around five tiny, damp bundles that moved against her belly.
For several seconds, neither man said a word.
Jet raised her head and released an exhausted meow.
“Jake,” Maverick whispered.
“I see them.”
“There are…”
“Five.”
“But Jet is male.”
Jake looked at him.
Then he looked at the cat.
Then he looked at Maverick again.
“I think Jet has some news for you.”
One of the kittens started crying. Jet pulled the tiny animal closer with her paw and began cleaning it with her tongue.
Maverick slowly sat on the floor.
“We have babies.”
Jake released an incredulous laugh.
“Jet has babies.”
“They live in our closet. That makes them our babies.”
The word “our” remained suspended between them.
Jake felt something warm and dangerous tightening around his heart. Maverick either did not notice or pretended not to. He leaned closer to the box.
“Hello, Mom,” he whispered. “You fooled us.”
Jet allowed him to stroke her head.
That was all the confirmation Maverick needed before going into emergency mode.
In less than twenty minutes, he called a veterinary clinic, photographed all five kittens without using the flash, moved a water bowl into the closet, and built a barricade with pillows.
Jake found clean blankets and received instructions over the phone from a veterinarian who was trying very hard not to laugh when he explained that they had mistaken the cat’s sex.
“She says we shouldn’t move them if Jet is calm,” Jake reported. “We need to keep the room warm and make sure all the kittens are eating. She can examine them tomorrow.”
Maverick was already lying on his stomach in front of the box.
“This one is the smallest.”
“They’re all small.”
“No. Look at the gray one in the corner.”
Jake lay beside him. Their shoulders touched inside the closet, surrounded by boots and hanging uniforms.
The gray kitten moved clumsily, pushed away by two stronger siblings. Jet tried to guide the little one closer, but she was exhausted.
Maverick extended one finger and gently nudged the kitten until it found a place to eat.
“That’s it, little guy. Don’t give up.”
Jake studied Maverick’s profile: the concentration in his eyes, his barely visible smile, and the fear still tightening his jaw.
Without thinking, Jake kissed his temple.
“He’ll be all right, Cat Dad.”
“Me? You brought the shirt Jet chose for the nest.”
“She stole it.”
“She chose you.”
“Then we’re two idiots lying inside a closet at midnight.”
“With five babies.”
Jake laughed again, but he did not correct him.
The veterinarian confirmed the next morning that Jet and all five kittens were healthy.
She also confirmed, with unbearable kindness, that Jet was definitely female.
“In our defense,” Maverick said, “she has a lot of fur.”
The veterinarian looked at the short-haired cat, whose fur was not hiding anything.
“Of course.”
Jake had to pretend he was coughing.
The first few days were peaceful.
Jet took excellent care of her litter and only allowed Maverick and Jake to approach. They took turns checking that the smallest gray kitten was gaining weight. Maverick recorded every ounce in a notebook. Jake prepared special food for Jet, washed the blankets, and insisted that the situation was temporary.
“In eight weeks, they’ll be ready to go to new families,” Jake reminded him while installing a camera beside the closet so they could watch the kittens from their phones.
“Of course,” Maverick answered while comparing three different models of heated beds. “We need to find responsible homes.”
“Very responsible.”
“With experience.”
“And a secure yard.”
“And references.”
Jake lowered the drill.
“Are you planning to ask for their medical records and flight qualifications too?”
“That wouldn’t be unreasonable.”
“Pete.”
“They’re very small, Jake.”
“I know.”
They both looked at the box.
Jet was sleeping while five tiny tails moved against her body.
“Eight weeks,” Jake repeated, although he sounded much less convinced this time.
The peace ended when the kittens learned to walk.
At first, they only stumbled around the nest. Then they discovered that the world extended beyond the box and began conquering it, one inch at a time.
Maverick gave them temporary names so they could tell them apart.
Goose was the smallest, an orange kitten with enormous blue eyes.
Radar was the gray kitten who could always find Jet.
Nova was white with black spots and an impressive voice.
Spark was a striped kitten who tried to bite everything.
Shadow was a tiny copy of her mother.
Jake warned Maverick that naming them was a mistake.
The following afternoon, Jake embroidered each name onto five different blankets.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he insisted.
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“We needed to identify them.”
“And embroider tiny stars around their names.”
“That was an aesthetic decision.”
Maverick smiled at him with so much affection that Jake threw a pillow at his face.
By the time the kittens were four weeks old, the house had become a combat zone.
Spark learned to climb the curtains.
Nova slept inside Jake’s shoes.
Radar followed Maverick to the bathroom and cried outside the door.
Shadow attacked anything that moved, including shoelaces, brooms, and Jet’s tail.
Goose, still smaller than his siblings, developed a dangerous fascination with crawling beneath the couch.
The first night they allowed the litter to leave the bedroom, Maverick and Jake slept for forty minutes.
A loud crash woke them at two in the morning.
Jake jumped out of bed and stepped on a ball with a bell inside. He lost his balance, grabbed Maverick, and pulled both of them into the wall.
Jet watched them from the dresser with obvious disapproval.
“We’re under attack,” Maverick murmured.
“I had already reached that conclusion, Captain.”
They found an overturned plant in the living room, two destroyed rolls of toilet paper, and Spark hanging from a lampshade.
Nova and Shadow were chasing a scrap of paper.
Radar was sitting inside the kitchen sink.
Goose was sleeping in the middle of the destruction with all four paws in the air.
“Jet,” Jake said, looking at the cat. “Control your children.”
Jet yawned.
Maverick rescued Spark while Jake tried to save the plant.
“It’s your turn to put them to bed,” Maverick said.
“I cleaned the litter box.”
“I fed them.”
“I pulled Shadow out of the helmet you left on the floor.”
“I found Nova inside the dryer.”
“Because you didn’t check before putting the clothes inside.”
“I checked. She climbed in afterward.”
“How did she climb in afterward, Mitchell?”
“She’s Jet’s daughter. She knows how to infiltrate.”
Jake opened his mouth to answer, but Goose woke up and released a tiny cry.
The other four kittens ran toward him.
Jet jumped down from the dresser and began leading them back to the bedroom.
The argument disappeared.
Maverick looked at Jake, who was standing in the middle of the living room with messy hair, dirt on one knee, and a piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoulder.
Jake looked at Maverick, who was holding Spark against his chest while the kitten bit his chin.
Both men started laughing.
They laughed until they had to sit on the floor.
Jet returned and meowed impatiently, as if they were the most troublesome members of her litter.
“Come on, husband,” Maverick said between laughs. “Your children are waiting for us.”
Jake froze for only a moment.
Maverick did not seem to notice the word he had used.
Or perhaps he did, because his ears turned red.
Neither of them talked about it that night.
The squadron discovered the litter when Phoenix arrived without warning and found Jake sleeping on the couch with four kittens on his chest.
Goose was curled beneath his chin.
Maverick was asleep on the floor, leaning against Jake’s legs with Jet resting in his lap.
Phoenix took seventeen photographs before waking them.
“I don’t want to hear a word,” Jake growled.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Your face is talking.”
“My face is saying that Bagman has been defeated by six cats.”
The photograph reached the squadron’s group chat before Jake could take Phoenix’s phone away.
Ten minutes later, Rooster arrived with toys.
Bob brought a bag of kitten food.
Payback and Fanboy appeared with a cat tower that required assembly and seemed taller than Maverick.
The house filled with voices, boxes, and kittens being passed from one set of arms to another.
Jet supervised everything from the table. She only growled when Rooster held Goose too high.
“He looks like Mav,” Rooster commented. “Small, loud, and convinced he can fly.”
“Give me back my son,” Maverick answered.
Everyone fell silent.
Jake closed his eyes.
Phoenix smiled slowly.
“Your son?”
“Jet’s son.”
“Right.”
“I’m only helping to take care of him.”
“Of course, Dad.”
Rooster returned Goose with exaggerated solemnity.
The kitten immediately settled beneath Maverick’s chin.
“I thought you’d had enough of raising troublesome pilots,” Phoenix added.
“I was never raised by him,” Rooster protested.
“That explains a lot,” Jake said.
Maverick gently hit Jake’s leg.
Jake caught his hand and intertwined their fingers, such an automatic gesture that neither of them thought about it until Bob spoke.
“You two already look like a married couple.”
The statement caused a chorus of agreement.
Jake released Maverick’s hand too quickly.
“Don’t start, Bob.”
“I’m just saying that you have a house, a cat, and five children.”
“And they argue about whose turn it is to clean,” Phoenix added.
“They share a car,” Payback said.
“And Hangman prepares Mav’s lunch,” Fanboy contributed.
“Because if I don’t, he forgets to eat.”
“Exactly like a husband,” Rooster concluded.
Jake stood and used getting beers as an excuse to leave the room.
The kitchen was only a few steps away, but he appreciated the wall hiding him from everyone’s curious stares. He opened the refrigerator without knowing what he was looking for.
A second later, Maverick entered behind him.
“Are you all right?”
“Perfect.”
“Jake.”
“They’re idiots.”
“That isn’t news.”
Jake took out six bottles, placed them on the counter, and carefully aligned their labels so he would not have to look at Maverick.
“I don’t care about the jokes.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Or that they think we live together. We practically do.”
“Practically.”
“Or that they think we’re…”
Jake stopped.
Maverick leaned one hip against the counter.
“A married couple?”
“Yes.”
“Does that part bother you?”
Jake finally looked up.
Maverick was trying to appear relaxed, but he was playing with the hem of his T-shirt.
That gesture betrayed him.
Pete Mitchell could land a damaged aircraft on a burning carrier without blinking, but he twisted his clothes when he was afraid of someone’s answer.
“It bothers me,” Jake admitted, “that everyone can see it except us.”
Maverick stopped moving his fingers.
Laughter came from the living room, followed by Phoenix ordering someone to get Spark down from the cat tower.
“I thought you didn’t want to give it a name,” Maverick said.
“Give what a name?”
“This. Living here. Leaving your clothes in my closet. Making my lunch and arguing with me about cat litter.”
“I thought you didn’t want to.”
“I’ve had an empty drawer waiting for you for a year.”
Jake blinked.
“A drawer?”
“The bottom one.”
“You keep tools in there.”
“Because you never brought enough things to fill it.”
“I have half the closet.”
“Three-quarters.”
“Then I already live here.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Jake released a short, incredulous laugh.
All that time, they had been flying in circles, each waiting for the other one to request permission to land.
“We’re two idiots,” Jake said.
“Lying inside a closet at midnight.”
“With five babies.”
Maverick smiled.
Jake crossed the space between them and kissed him slowly, one hand resting on Maverick’s waist.
It was not a new or uncertain kiss, but it carried the weight of a decision.
Maverick held the back of Jake’s neck and moved closer until there was no air between them.
An indignant meow interrupted them.
Shadow was sitting in the kitchen doorway.
Jet stood behind her with the same disapproving expression.
“They’re watching us,” Jake murmured against Maverick’s lips.
“They’re concerned about our moral behavior.”
“Or they want food.”
It was food.
Two weeks later, Jet began moving away whenever the kittens tried to nurse.
The veterinarian explained that it was normal. The kittens were growing, eating wet food, and using the litter box, although Spark considered covering his mess optional.
It also meant that the time to find them new homes was approaching.
Maverick created a folder containing photographs and information about each kitten.
Jake wrote a list of requirements for potential adopters.
Neither of them posted the announcement.
“We could ask Penny,” Maverick suggested one evening.
“She works unpredictable hours.”
“Hondo loves Radar.”
“He travels too much.”
“Phoenix wants Nova.”
“She lives in a small apartment.”
“It’s bigger than yours.”
Jake looked at him over the top of the laptop.
“My apartment is irrelevant.”
“Because you already live here?”
“Because the plant died.”
Maverick smiled.
The conversation ended when Goose threw up on the carpet.
Both men ran to him, called the veterinarian, and spent the entire night watching him.
Goose had only eaten too quickly, but Maverick did not sleep.
At four in the morning, Jake found him sitting in front of the kitten enclosure with Goose wrapped in a blanket against his chest.
“He’s all right,” Jake whispered.
“I know.”
“You don’t look like you know.”
Maverick stroked the orange kitten’s head with one finger.
Goose purred, completely unaware of the panic he had caused.
“What if someone doesn’t notice when something is wrong?” Maverick asked. “What if we give him away and he spends an entire night sick and alone because they don’t recognize the sound he makes when something hurts?”
“We can choose good families.”
“I know.”
“We can visit them.”
“I know.”
But Maverick’s voice broke slightly.
Jake understood then that it was not only about the kittens.
Maverick had spent his life losing people, saying goodbye before he was ready, and pretending that letting go was a skill he could eventually master.
He had loved every pilot under his care as though enough stubbornness could protect them.
Now he held a kitten only a few weeks old and prepared himself for another goodbye that no one was forcing him to accept.
“Do you want them to stay?” Jake asked.
Maverick did not answer immediately.
“Five cats are too many.”
“Six, counting Jet.”
“Our house will become an asylum.”
“It already is.”
“They’ll destroy the furniture.”
“That couch is older than I am.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Mav, that couch probably knew the Wright brothers.”
Maverick released a damp laugh.
Jake rested his head against Maverick’s shoulder.
“I didn’t ask if it was sensible. I asked if you want them to stay.”
Goose stretched out one paw and placed it against Maverick’s chin.
“Yes,” Maverick confessed. “I want all of them.”
“Then they stay.”
Maverick turned toward him.
“Jake, you can’t make that decision just for me.”
“I’m not doing it only for you.”
Radar appeared on the other side of the enclosure and began climbing.
Jake picked him up before he could fall.
The gray kitten settled into the bend of Jake’s arm and closed his eyes.
“This little menace sleeps on my neck,” Jake continued. “Nova recognizes the sound of my truck. Spark only lets me trim his claws. Shadow steals my socks and carries them into her bed. And Goose… well, Goose is your shadow, but he allows me to serve his breakfast. I want them to stay too.”
“All five?”
“All five.”
“We’ll have six adult cats.”
“I like impossible challenges.”
“I thought that was me.”
“You’re the worst one of all.”
Maverick kissed him with a smile.
Goose became gently trapped between them and released a protesting cry.
They immediately moved apart to examine him, causing Jake to laugh against Maverick’s shoulder.
“We definitely look like a married couple,” Jake said.
“Look like one?”
The question was gentle, but Jake heard everything it contained.
He stood, returned Radar to his siblings, and offered Maverick his hand.
Jake led him into the bedroom.
The box where the litter had been born remained in front of the closet, now empty and filled with blankets the kittens had outgrown.
Jake opened his bag and removed the keys to his apartment.
He held them for a moment before placing them on the dresser.
“I’ll cancel the lease tomorrow,” he said. “No more ‘practically.’ No more spending nights pretending I’m going to water a dead plant. I live here, if you still want me here.”
Maverick picked up the keys and closed Jake’s fingers around them.
“I’ve always wanted you here.”
“Good, because I want mornings with you, arguments about coffee, flights, boring Sundays, and six cats destroying everything we buy. I want this to be my home. Our home.”
Maverick’s eyes shone.
“That sounds rather permanent, Seresin.”
“It is.”
“As permanent as a marriage?”
Jake swallowed.
There was no ring.
He had not prepared a speech, and he was not kneeling.
He was barefoot, dressed in sweatpants, and covered in cat hair.
Still, he had never been more certain about anything.
“Yes,” he answered. “As permanent as a marriage. More permanent, if you’ll let me make it official.”
Maverick’s eyes widened.
“Are you proposing to me beside a cardboard box?”
“Jet chose this place to begin her family. It seemed appropriate.”
“You don’t have a ring.”
“It’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“That isn’t a no.”
“I’ll buy you one tomorrow.”
Maverick laughed, wrapped both arms around Jake’s neck, and pressed their foreheads together.
“Then tomorrow, I’ll tell you yes again.”
It took Jake a second to understand.
“Was that a yes?”
“Yes, Jake.”
“Just to be certain, yes to marrying me, or yes to buying a ring?”
“Yes to you. To the house. To Jet. To the five little monsters. To everything.”
Jake kissed him with so much happiness that they stumbled into the closet.
The doors rattled.
A symphony of meows came from the living room.
“We woke the children,” Maverick said.
“Our first failure as engaged men.”
When they returned, Jet was sitting in the middle of the enclosure while all five kittens demanded attention.
Maverick settled on the floor.
Jake sat behind him and wrapped his legs around Maverick’s body. Together, they distributed the litter across their laps.
Goose climbed onto Maverick’s shoulder.
Radar curled up between them.
Nova bit the cord on Jake’s sweatpants.
Spark started a fight with Shadow and fell onto his back.
Jet settled beside Maverick’s leg and began to purr.
“I think she knew,” Maverick said.
“Who?”
“Jet. She hid in our closet, used clothes belonging to both of us to build her nest, and allowed us to approach her babies. Maybe she knew we were a family before we did.”
Jake stroked Jet between the ears.
“She also let us believe she was male for six months.”
“She’s mysterious.”
“She’s a criminal mastermind.”
Jet bit his finger.
“And she holds grudges,” Jake added.
Three months later, Maverick and Jake celebrated a small wedding on the beach.
Phoenix performed the ceremony because no one trusted Rooster to do it without telling embarrassing stories.
Hondo carried the rings.
Penny decorated the tables, and the entire squadron helped install a covered kitten enclosure near the reception.
All six cats attended wearing tiny bows attached to safe collars.
Jet wore a white one.
Goose slept through most of the ceremony in Maverick’s arms.
Radar stayed with Jake.
Nova tried to eat a flower.
Spark escaped twice.
Shadow stole a ribbon from the bouquet.
When it was time for the vows, Jake looked at Maverick and then at the orange kitten whose head was poking out from beneath Maverick’s jacket.
“I promise to love you even when you fill our house with animals without asking me,” Jake said.
“Jet was already pregnant. Technically, she filled the house.”
“Pete.”
“Sorry.”
Everyone laughed.
Jake took Maverick’s hands.
“I promise to build a life with you. To take care of you when you forget to take care of yourself, to listen even when you pretend you don’t need to talk, and to stay when things become difficult. I promise to share the closet, even though there’s no longer any room for my clothes, and to get up with you every time one of our children decides to throw up at four in the morning.”
Maverick smiled, his eyes wet.
“I promise never to identify the sex of another animal without professional assistance.”
Jake’s laughter joined that of their friends.
“I also promise to choose you every day,” Maverick continued. “In the air and on the ground. During the important moments and the sleepless nights. I promise to give you a home you’ll always want to return to. And I promise that no matter how much chaos our family creates, you’ll never have to face it alone.”
Jet meowed from the enclosure as if giving her approval.
They exchanged rings and kissed while their friends applauded.
Spark escaped for the third time, ran between Rooster’s legs, and nearly made him fall into the cake.
Goose woke because of the noise and climbed onto Maverick’s shoulder.
Radar dug his claws into Jake’s jacket.
Nova managed to tear a petal from a flower.
Shadow ran away with another ribbon.
It was a disaster.
It was perfect.
That night, when Maverick and Jake returned home, they discovered that their bed was occupied.
Jet rested on Maverick’s usual pillow, once again in possession of her rightful place.
The five kittens, now much bigger, were spread across the mattress.
Goose was sleeping on Maverick’s side.
Radar had chosen Jake’s.
Nova and Shadow shared a pillow.
Spark was stretched across the center of the bed.
Jake crossed his arms.
“There’s no room.”
“We could move them.”
Both men looked at Jet.
Jet opened one eye.
“The couch isn’t that uncomfortable,” Maverick decided.
“The Wright brothers would agree.”
They settled in the living room beneath a blanket.
Maverick rested his head on Jake’s chest, and Jake stroked his hair while the ocean sounded outside.
For five minutes, they enjoyed complete silence.
Then Goose appeared, dragging his blanket down the hallway.
Radar followed him.
Nova, Spark, and Shadow came next.
Jet brought up the rear with the dignity of a queen escorting her court.
One by one, they jumped onto the couch and settled over the newlyweds.
“Six cats,” Jake murmured, with Spark on his stomach and Radar beneath his chin.
“Our surprise litter.”
“Ours,” Jake repeated.
Maverick lifted his head and kissed him.
Jet began to purr.
The five kittens imitated her until a gentle, warm, constant vibration filled the living room.
Surrounded by six small bodies, with his husband’s arm wrapped around his waist and the house in complete disorder, Maverick thought that he had never landed anywhere so perfect.
Jake turned off the lamp.
“Good night, husband.”
Maverick smiled in the darkness.
“Good night, Cat Dad.”
Goose meowed between them, demanding the final word.
And, as had already become customary in their family, they allowed him to have it.