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Part 1 of the one where...
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2022-11-21
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The One Where They Adopt The Cats

Summary:

Andrew: [image34.jpeg]

Nicky: Andrew omg what is that

Aaron: Andrew wtf is that

Andrew: A bastard. It peed itself on our carpet.

Andrew: You have two minutes and thirty seven seconds.

Aaron: wtf

Andrew: Names. Go.

Or

Andrew finds a cat in a dumpster. Not once does it occur to him that they are doing anything other than keeping this thing.

Notes:

My first foray into the aftg fandom
TWs: Andrew makes (incredibly vague) reference to foster care and having to go hungry

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s late when Andrew turns the corner into his street, grocery bag dangling from his numb fingers and combat boots purposefully silent against the hard concrete- old foster kid habits die hard. Or, in his case, are immortal.

The Maserati is in the shop. Shockingly, it is a simple tire puncture; the fault of Andrew's driving, of course. Neil drives like a paranoid twelve-year-old. It's un-endearing (“If you have to specify it, Andrew, is it really the truth?” “Yes, Renee, because that is how language works"). Unfortunately, Andrew has never been fond of cardio. Also of note: the off-season laziness has driven him to the point of considering a trip to the corner store cardio.

It is this obscure combination (late at night, silence, actual observation of the mundane) which leads him to the sounds coming from the dumpster. They’re pitiful, to be frank; tiny, high-pitched whines, forced out of small lungs unused to making so much sound. Not Neil, then, and the sigh Andrew breathes out leaves him off-kilter. Irrationality helps no one.

He stops at the mouth of the alley. Sets his bag down. Traces the phantom outline of his knives in his armbands. The street is completely empty; the area is well-lit enough that the inside of the open dumpster would be illuminated to someone tall enough to see inside. A whimper comes again. 

Andrew is in front of the dumpster in the next second, hands gripping the lip and leg braced against the concrete wall it is pushed against, letting him climb up to glance inside. The smell is repugnant, but it isn’t the first time he’s had to rifle through trash. Again, old foster kid habits. 

Nothing abnormal stands out immediately. Standard garbage, at least until the sound comes again and the corner of his vision catches movement. Directly below him are two large, round eyes. These eyes are attached to what is, without a doubt, the ugliest cat he has ever seen. It looks young, probably still a kitten, but its matted mass of fur makes it seem ancient. It stares at him again and makes the whimpering, meowing sound. 

“No,” Andrew answers. 

It whines again, covered in scraps of garbage. Andrew recognises the hunger in its eyes.

 

 

Andrew: [image183.jpg]

Neil: What did you do

Neil: Also yes.

Andrew: Did I ask?

Neil: You didn’t need to

Neil: I vote we let Nicky and Aaron fight it out for naming rights

Andrew: 486%

 

 

Following a bath, call to the nearest vet’s office, and meal, Bastard the Cat (Andrew refuses to workshop that name) is sound asleep. One minor setback: it is asleep under their couch. Which it has attempted to disembowel. Attempts to climb onto the couch have been unsuccessful: Bastard the Cat has an un-endearing habit of clawing at any ankles which get too close. If it wasn’t directed at him, Andrew would approve. 

“We could take a running jump at it,” Neil suggests, biting at his lip. The expression, paired with the sleep shorts and huge sweater, would really do it for Andrew any other time. Unfortunately, the words coming out of Josten’s mouth kill any arousal in a preemptive strike. 

Andrew gives Neil a long look. “I am twenty-eight years old. I refuse to be thrown off my couch by a demon.”

“If cats are demons, does that make lions the Devil?”

“I will take that thing right back to that dumpster.”

“Sure you will,” Neil says, and his gaze is uncomfortably knowing.

“I will raise that percentage.” 

“Now, that I don’t doubt.”

In the end, they secure anything sharp in the kitchen, put a bowl of tuna next to the couch, and go to bed. Despite scrubbing his hair and skin raw in the shower for twenty minutes straight, Andrew can still feel the filth of the garbage on his skin. Neil holds his bare wrist and tangles their legs together and doesn’t ask. In return, Andrew traces the scars on Neil’s knuckles and raises their linked hands to his face and lets the scent of Neil lull him to sleep. 

 

 

Andrew: [image34.jpeg]

Nicky: Andrew omg what is that

Aaron: Andrew wtf is that

Andrew: A bastard. It peed itself on our carpet.

Andrew: You have two minutes and thirty seven seconds.

Aaron: wtf

Andrew: Names. Go.

Nicky: Puss In Boots

Nicky: Lady Fluffypaws the fifth

Aaron: Is this your idea of a prank?

Nicky: Prince Cutiepie, slayer of mice and eyeballs

Aaron: Did Josten put you up to this?

Nicky: Trixiebell 

Andrew: Horrible names for a cat, Aaron. 

Nicky: AARON 

Nicky: do not blow this for us i stg

Andrew: Two minutes left

Andrew: So far I have not seen any promising contenders.

Nicky: Catzilla, King of the Monsters

Nicky: Mousetrapper Extraordinaire

Nicky: Ooo wait

Nicky: What if we mash Andrew and Neils names together

Nicky: think renesmee from twilight but Classy

Aaron: Kill me now.

Nicky: Nedrew

Nicky: Mosten

Andrew: No. I’m deducting thirty seconds.

Nicky: AARON 

Aaron: WHAT

Nicky: HELP

Aaron: Literally why

Aaron: That thing probably has rabies and fleas.

Andrew: Yes to fleas, no to rabies. We dealt with it.

Aaron: Of course Josten is involved

Nicky: Aaron stop and think for a second

Nicky: That cat looks young and yk Andrew, he’s gonna have it for like twenty years

Nicky: Twenty years of having to call it a name WE CHOOSE

Nicky: NOW USE THAT PHD AND THINK MAN

Aaron: That’s not what my degree is but fine

Nicky: YESSS

Andrew: One minute. 

Aaron: Asked Katelyn for advice and she flinched when she saw the picture

Aaron: Elsa says “that doggie looks like someone who is beautiful on the inside”

Nicky: Grey Fur the Twelfth 

Andrew: You’re losing your creativity

Aaron: Hard to lose what you never had but sure

Nicky: Brad the Cat

Nicky: Sir Meower the Ruthless

Nicky: Wait Andrew what’s the cats gender

Andrew: Vets said it's female.

Andrew: Thirty seconds.

Nicky: Princess FooFoo 

Aaron: Anna liked Nicky’s royal theme

Nicky: Queen Crusty Eyes of the Weak Bowels

Aaron: Says you should call it King Fluffkins the Third

Aaron: Because it “deserves to be fluffy”

Nicky: … Aaron she does know it's one of those hairless cats right?

Andrew: Vets had to shave it. It's a Maine Coon mix. 

Nicky: nevermind 

Andrew: And that’s time.

Nicky: Sir Fat Cat McCatterson 

Andrew: Anna’s idea it is. 

Nicky: … how was that any different to literally any of mine

Andrew: Take it up with Josten.

Aaron: No one is falling for that. 

Nicky: Aaaaaaarrrooooooooonnnnnnnn

Aaron: Fine. Anna is very happy. Elsa still thinks it's a dog. She wants a puppy now.

Aaron: And there goes my weekend. Thanks, Andrew.

Andrew: Welcome, doc.

Nicky: awww, you guysss 

Aaron: And the moment’s dead.



 

“King Fluffkins the Third,” Neil muses, doing the exact same thing with his lip as four nights ago. Sometimes, Andrew’s memory comes in handy.

“Yes.”

“And you’re never going to call her that?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

““King” it is,” Neil agrees. He glances down at the cat currently rolling around on her newly-claimed throne, also known as their couch. She meows: it is a far healthier sound than the whines which first alerted Andrew to her existence. He turns to Andrew. “Shall we get that engraved on her collar?”

This is what his life has come to. Discussions about ridiculous cat names. The Andrew of eight years ago (hell, the Andrew of twenty years ago, hungry and abandoned) would sooner destroy than stay, let alone settle down in an apartment in the city and adopt a street cat. The Andrew of this year can admit (quietly, to himself and only himself) that he isn’t nearly as mad about it as his twelve failed therapists would want him to be.

He glances up at Neil. “Yes or no?”

"To the cat collar or..?” Neil asks, but he’s smiling- a rare, real smile they only discovered a few years ago. He has the audacity to bite his lip again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Andrew says again, and pulls him in for a kiss.

 

 

3:28am

Neil: Hey Drew so remember how we got King?

Neil: She’s waiting for you when you get back from your conference

Neil: I already asked Nicky for name ideas

Neil: Meet Sir Fat Cat McCatterson

Neil: [image213.jpeg]

 

7:03am

Andrew: 500%

Notes:

A couple things:
- I cherrypicked the Extra Content in regards to the cats (I don't think it's ever said *how* they got them)
- Yes Aaron and Katelyn have twin girls named Elsa and Anna, yes I lifted their names straight from Jane the Virgin (yes I know genetically speaking they're unlikely to have twins but it's too cute to resist)

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