Chapter Text
There's a cat that comes around at night – Freddie's not sure who it belongs to, maybe the people across the street? It's a really nice cat, and he's pretty sure it's a girl and he's sort of pseudo-named her Bella, since she doesn't have a collar or tags and she's just a beautiful little thing. She's fluffy, light gray and white and probably some orange mixed in there somewhere – sometimes she flops on the porch in the middle of the day, but mostly she meows her way around the steps after dark. Freddie's started putting out a dish of cat food for her. Freddie's never actually seen her eat any, but the dish is constantly empty, so he guesses her owners aren't taking too good care of her, or some other neighborhood stray's bogarting the Friskies.
"Or maybe she's just really greedy," Brian says one night, running his hand over the cat's fur absently.
"I don't think so, darling," Freddie says. "See how thin she is?"
"Maybe she's just a small-boned cat."
"Maybe you're just a small-brained person." Freddie hefts the unprotesting cat into his lap, and waggles her paws onto Brian's thigh. "Feed me, Seymour." The cat licks Brian's jeans. "See? She's desperate for attention."
"A kindred spirit, huh?"
"Fuck you." But Freddie's smiling.
"Did you ask around to see who she belongs to?"
Freddie shakes his head – he probably will, sooner or later – and releases Bella, who perches for a confused moment, a feline bridge between his legs and Brian's, and then decides that Brian's lap is the nicest after all. Yeah, Freddie can't really blame her.
They've just finished with their first tour, during which time Freddie discovered that Brian's lap pretty much is the nicest for napping and getting absently petted (which Freddie sort of loves, which makes him what, like an overgrown cat? He doesn't need to think about what his tactile issues say about him; he can just enjoy Brian's fingers through his hair, thanks). He plans to claim Brian's lap again for the next leg of the tour as well.
Bella's in a total state of bliss, belly-up in adoration sprawled over Brian's legs, eyes slitted in pleasure. Freddie watches the carelessly graceful movement of Brian's hand over her fur and thinks maybe his eyes are slitting too, like, sense-memory or whatever.
The night's as sweetly cool and Freddie's arms are wrapped around his knees and the light from the window is casting this happy box of gold onto the two of them, haloing them, shining like the sun on the water on Brian's hair. Just sitting on the steps in the nighttime, the neighborhood all around, comfortable and real and feeling like nothing so much as home.
"You could adopt her, maybe, if she doesn't belong to anyone," Brian says.
"Maybe you could adopt her." The cat's clearly in love with Brian; she's got good taste. "We could share her. Alternate weekends."
"Joint custody's hard on the kid. We'd have to stay married for her sake."
Brian smiles, completely at ease and sure of himself, and Freddie can feel his chest tighten. He reaches out blindly for Brian's hand and finds Bella instead, warm and purring under Brian's touch, and their fingers meet in the silky fur.
He can hear a mom down the street calling out, time to come in, time for bed. The curl of Brian's hand is quiet beneath Freddie's. The cat lies between them, purring contentedly. He thinks about things he gets to keep, and he keeps his fingers pressed to the steady, constant pulse of Brian's wrist.