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The elevator hummed softly as it climbed. Robby swayed slightly where he stood, shoulder pressed against Jack’s. Their fingers were laced together, the kind of easy contact that still made his chest ache in that quiet, unfamiliar way.
He was used to seeing his boyfriend under harsh fluorescent lights: adrenaline-sharp, humor wry, jaw tight with exhaustion. Not like this. Not soft, not loose-limbed and smiling at nothing as he leaned against the elevator wall, hair still damp from the drizzle outside. This, he was still getting used to. They’d spent plenty of nights at Robby’s apartment. It was closer to the hospital and right above their favorite café. But this was different. This felt like a threshold. A quiet shift from familiar comfort to something new. Robby couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit to the possibility of new places to sleep with Jack. New surfaces to use.
“I can’t believe it took you this long to invite me over,” Robby teased, voice low, his thumb brushing along Jack’s hand. “I was starting to think you didn’t actually have an apartment. Maybe you just rent a P.O. box and live off caffeine in the on-call room.”
Jack’s laugh rumbled softly between them. “You’d be surprised how tempting that’s been some weeks. But no, this is real. Four walls, working plumbing, and an actual bed that isn’t cursed by the trauma gods. Even have a fancy fridge.”
Robby smiled, tilting his head closer until they were even closer. “Sounds luxurious. I feel honored to finally get the tour.”
Jack glanced sideways, his grin crooked. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not much.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Robby murmured. “It’s yours.”
The elevator chimed. Jack still hadn’t let go of his hand when they stepped into the hallway, dimly lit and humming with the faint scent of rain. Robby’s chest felt tight in a good way, that kind of quiet, stupid happiness that made him want to laugh for no reason. As confident as he usually was about their relationship, something about being invited into Jack’s space made it feel more real. More settled.
Jack unlocked the door, pushing it open with his shoulder, then looked back. “You ready?”
Robby smiled, eyes soft. “You say that like you’re unveiling a secret lair.”
“Depends on how you define lair,” Jack said, grinning.
He held the door open. Robby stepped inside and stopped.
The first thing he noticed was the warmth. Jack’s apartment didn’t feel like the home of a perpetually overworked doctor. It was cozy. Lived-in. A couch with a soft blanket thrown over it, houseplants thriving in the window (how, Robby couldn’t guess), and framed photos lining the wall. One caught his eye immediately, a picture from a hospital charity event. Jack mid-laugh, leaning casually against him. That picture was from before they were even together. More than friends but not quite ready to step over the line into a relationship.
“This is…” Robby trailed off. “It’s really nice. I thought I’d be walking into something sterile. Maybe a cot and a mini fridge.”
Jack tossed his keys onto the counter. “Guess I contain multitudes.”
Robby smiled, stepping close. “I’m really glad you invited me.”
That teasing grin faded into something softer. Jack reached up, brushing his knuckles along Robby’s jaw before leaning in to kiss him.. When they broke apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, both of them smiling like idiots.
Jack whispered, “Welcome home, baby.”
Robby laughed under his breath. “You keep saying stuff like that and I’ll start thinking you’re actually romantic.”
“Scandalous,” Jack murmured, kissing him again.
They stayed like that, warm, laughing softly, their hands still linked, until Robby finally glanced around again. “So where’s this fancy fridge you bragged about?”
Jack opened his mouth to answer, but that was when the thump came. A low, deliberate sound from deeper in the apartment. A faint jingle followed it.
Robby blinked. “What was that?”
Jack’s expression shifted in a way Robby didn’t like, too calm, too practiced. “Ah. Right. The roommate.”
“Roommate?” Robby repeated. “You have a roommate?” His entire train of thought from earlier screeched to a halt.
Before Jack could explain, something small and fluffy appeared at the end of the hall, a tortoiseshell cat, its fur a regal swirl of caramel and black, her tail twitching with authority. She paused, narrowed her amber eyes, and regarded Robby with a look that could only be described as… condemnation.
Jack’s entire demeanor changed instantly. His voice dropped into something fond, almost reverent. “Robby, meet Sergeant Princess.”
Robby stared. “Sergeant… Princess?”
“Correct,” Jack said, bending down to scoop the cat up. “She was the unofficial mascot at a field hospital I worked at. She’s been running my life ever since.”
The cat purred as soon as Jack touched her, loud, throaty, immediately melting into his arms like she was made of devotion. She nuzzled his chin, batting his cheek affectionately with one soft paw. Robby stood frozen, watching the transformation with disbelief.
“She really loves you,” Robby said slowly.
“She’s a good girl,” Jack said, smiling down at her, voice dipped in the kind of softness Robby had never heard him use for anyone. He briefly wondered how stupid it would be to get jealous of a cat he previously didn’t even know existed.
Sergeant Princess blinked lazily, purring louder. Then her gaze slid past Jack’s shoulder to Robby. The purr cut off like a switch had flipped, and her ears flattened. Her fur fluffed up as she hissed at Robby, making him take a step back.
Jack frowned, looking down at the cat in his arms. “Hey, hey, what’s that about?”
Sergeant Princess’s response was a low, guttural mrrrowl, all directed squarely at Robby. Her tail lashed once, twice. Sharp, deliberate movements of pure feline contempt.
Robby blinked, hands lifting slightly as if trying to show her he was unarmed. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Not the greeting I expected.”
Jack sighed, trying to soothe her. “She’s just… cautious around new people.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Sergeant Princess turned and, with surgical precision, swatted at Robby’s direction, claws just barely unsheathed.
Robby jumped back. “She’s trying to kill me.”
“She’s not trying to kill you,” Jack said quickly, but his voice carried the tone of someone who knew this was a losing argument. “She just needs time.”
“She hissed at me. That’s not ‘needing time,’ Jack, that’s open hostility.”
Jack was clearly trying not to laugh. “She’s very protective.”
“Of you,” Robby muttered.
“Obviously,” Jack said, petting her like this was all normal. “You’re on her turf now. She’s asserting dominance.”
The cat stared at Robby from Jack’s arms, her pupils narrow, her expression one of aristocratic disgust. Then, with the deliberation of a queen dismissing a peasant, she turned her head away and buried her face against Jack’s neck.
Robby crossed his arms. “I think I’ve been dismissed.”
Jack was grinning now, the bastard. “She’ll warm up to you.”
“She looks like she’s contemplating how best to frame my death as an accident.”
Jack chuckled and set the cat down gently. “C’mon, Princess, play nice.”
The moment her paws touched the floor, Sergeant Princess slinked toward the couch, stopping only once to glare at Robby over her shoulder, slow, judgmental, and unmistakably territorial. Then she hopped onto the cushions, turned a few lazy circles, and curled up with her back to him.
Robby blinked a couple of times before Jack snapped him out of it. Jack’s arms slid around Robby from behind, lips brushing the edge of his jaw as his voice went low. “Why don’t I show you the bedroom?”
Robby tried to sound unimpressed, but his voice came out softer than he meant. “You sure she’s not going to follow us in there?”
“She’ll nap on the couch,” Jack murmured, his breath warm against his ear. “She always naps around this time.”
Robby wanted to argue, but Jack’s hand was already tracing down his side, and suddenly his brain stopped working properly. “You’re trying to distract me,” he managed, the words catching halfway in his throat.
“Is it working?” Jack asked, voice like smoke.
Robby turned his head just enough that their mouths brushed, his pulse leaping at the contact. “Yeah,” he whispered. “A little.”
Jack smiled into the kiss, slow and steady at first, then deeper, hungrier, like he’d been waiting all week to touch him again. Robby felt himself melt into it, his hands sliding into Jack’s hair, tugging gently as their bodies pressed closer. The tension that always clung to him after long shifts, after too many hours under hospital lights, finally cracked apart under the heat of it.
Jack walked him backward, step by step, until the backs of Robby’s knees hit the bed. The room was warm, dim, and quiet except for their breathing. Jack pushed him gently down onto the mattress, following after him, his weight solid and grounding.
Robby’s laugh came out low and breathless. “You really know how to give a tour.”
“Wait until I show you the best part,” Jack murmured, kissing along his neck.
“Yeah?” Robby tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see,” Jack said, and then he was kissing him again, harder this time, his hands braced on either side of Robby’s shoulders. Robby arched up to meet him, their bodies fitting together in a way that made his breath catch. The air between them felt electric, all warmth and pulse and the faint scent of rain still clinging to their clothes.
Robby’s fingers slid under the hem of Jack’s shirt, palms against hot skin. He wanted to memorize every inch, every sound Jack made when he tugged him closer. Their kisses turned sloppy, desperate, teeth brushing, hands roaming like they couldn’t get close enough fast enough.
“Fuck,” Robby breathed against his mouth, voice rough. “You—”
A piercing meow cut him off. Robby froze. Jack froze. The sound came again, louder, longer, offended in a way that could only mean one thing.
Robby blinked, chest still heaving. “Was that–”
Jack groaned quietly, resting his forehead against Robby’s shoulder. “Yeah. That was her.”
“No,” Robby said flatly. “No, she’s not doing this to me right now.”
Another meow followed, this time accompanied by the unmistakable jingle of a collar.
Jack exhaled heavily and pushed himself up, sitting back on his heels. “She doesn’t usually sound like that. Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” Robby said, still breathless and half sprawled on the bed. “Something’s wrong, all right.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair and stood, already tugging his shirt back down. “I’ll just check on her. Two seconds.”
“Jack,” Robby protested, voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and laughter. “You’re kidding me. You’re leaving me—like this—for the cat?”
“She sounds distressed,” Jack called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.
Robby flopped back onto the bed, one arm over his face. “So am I!”
From the living room came a string of soft baby talk. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did something scare you? Oh, you poor thing.”
Robby groaned into his elbow. “Unbelievable.”
A soft purr echoed down the hallway a few moments later, smug and satisfied. When Jack came back, he was smiling faintly with the cat purring in his arms like a queen reunited with her subject. “She’s fine,” he said. “False alarm.”
Robby sat up, glaring. “She did that on purpose.”
Jack grinned, scratching behind the cat’s ear. “You think she planned it?”
“I know she planned it,” Robby said. “You left me one second away from the best part, and she knew it.” Sergeant Princess blinked slowly at him, looking utterly pleased with herself.
A few weeks later, the ER was its usual brand of chaos, alarms, coffee, and exhaustion. Dana was already getting charts organized for the shift change. Robby trudged through the doors looking like the human embodiment of ‘don’t talk to me.’ His coat was unzipped, one sleeve rolled up higher than the other, and his hair looked like he’d lost a fight with his pillow. But what really made Dana stop mid-chart was the bandages.
Not one or two. Several. Little white adhesive strips were crawling up his forearms, a larger one peeking above his collar, and what looked suspiciously like bite marks on the side of his hand. She waited until he dropped his bag at the nurse’s station before saying, in a deceptively casual tone, “Morning, Dr. Robinavitch.” No response. “Robby?”
He grunted.
“Uh-huh.” Dana set down her tablet. “You want to tell me why you look like you were mugged by a blender?”
Robby squinted at her, clearly deciding whether to bother responding. “I wasn’t mugged.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, “so you were… what? Did you fall down some stairs? Walk into a door?”
“Dana,” he warned, deadpan. “Please.”
“Because,” she went on, pretending to check a chart, “if you’re showing up to my ER with visible wounds and a bad attitude, I’m obligated to ask whether I need to have a word with whoever you’re going home to.”
That got his attention. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
She folded her arms. “Look, you’ve been coming in with scratches and bruises all week. You’re sleep-deprived, snappy, and you flinch every time someone touches your wrist. I know you’ve been seeing Abbot, and I like Abbot, but–”
Robby blinked, momentarily too stunned to speak. “Wait. You think Jack did this?”
“I’m not saying he did,” Dana said, voice lowering, eyes softening just slightly. “But you know me, Rob. I’ve worked here too long to ignore red flags. So I’ll ask plainly: are you safe when you go home?”
For a long beat, Robby just stared at her. Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose and muttered, “You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me.”
“It’s the cat.”
Dana blinked. “The… what?”
“The cat,” Robby said louder, with the fervor of a man on the edge. “Jack’s cat. Sergeant Princess.”
There was a silence. Then Dana said, very carefully, “You’re telling me a creature named Sergeant Princess did that to you?”
“Yes!” He held up his arm like evidence. “She’s evil. Fluffy, manipulative, vindictive evil. She hisses if I sit too close to him, she swats if I touch him, and last night she clawed my neck because I dared to breathe near her owner.”
Dana stared. “...You’re serious.”
“I have puncture wounds, Dana.”
Her lips twitched. “So this is what your relationship’s downfall looks like, a six-pound warlord with commitment issues.”
“She’s nine pounds,” Robby snapped, insulted on principle. “And she’s very aware of her power. Jack calls her ‘Princess.’ I call her ‘the devil in fur.’”
Dana couldn’t hold back the laugh this time. “You’re actually jealous of a cat.”
“I am not jealous.” He took a long sip of his coffee, grimacing. “I’m… mildly inconvenienced by a domestic terrorist with a litter box.”
Dana grinned, but then her expression softened again. “So you and Jack are okay?”
Robby sighed, shoulders dropping. “Yeah. We’re fine. More than fine. He’s perfect. She’s the problem.”
“Mmhm.” Dana leaned her chin on her hand, watching him.
“So what’s your plan? How do you win her over?”
Robby ran a hand down his face. “I’ve tried giving her toys and being nice. She bites me anyway. Jack says she just needs time.”
Dana raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe she’s testing you.”
“She’s testing my patience,” Robby said, dead serious. “I haven’t been able to spend any quality time with Jack when we are at his place. That damn cat is a cock-block.”
Dana can’t help but laugh into her coffee. “That bad, huh?” Dana was wheezing when a quiet voice chimed in from behind them.
“I heard something about a cat?”
Both turned to see Mel, who stood a few feet away, clutching a tablet to her chest. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her scrubs slightly wrinkled, and her expression one of genuine curiosity.
“Robby’s in a love triangle,” Dana said, still grinning. “With Jack Abbot and his cat.”
Mel blinked and then smiled widely. “Oh. Sergeant Princess?”
Robby froze. “…You know about her?”
“Everyone knows about her,” Mel said earnestly, stepping closer. “Jack showed me pictures once during rounds. She was wearing a tiny vest. She looked very cute.”
“She’s the devil,” Robby said flatly.
Mel’s expression stayed thoughtful. “Well, tortoiseshells can be territorial. They pick one person to bond with and they… don’t always handle change well.”
Dana smirked. “So she’s jealous.”
Mel tilted her head. “Not jealous. Protective. She thinks you’re competition.”
“I’m not competing with a cat,” Robby muttered.
Mel blinked at him, serious. “You kind of are.”
Dana laughed again, but Mel kept talking, voice soft and patient, like she was explaining a clinical case. “You have to show her you’re not a threat. Try feeding her. Or bringing her treats, but only when Jack’s around. That way, she associates you with good things that come from her favorite person.”
Robby looked mildly horrified. “So I’m supposed to bribe her?”
“Not bribe,” Mel said gently. “Build trust.”
Dana leaned on the counter. “You hear that, lover boy? You’ve got to court the cat.”
Mel nodded earnestly. “Exactly. She needs time to adjust. Try sitting near Jack, but not touching him, until she relaxes. Then, when she’s calm, talk to her softly. Cats pick up on tone more than words.”
Robby stared at her like she’d just prescribed witchcraft. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”
Mel shrugged. “It works.” Then she smiled, a small, sweet smile that made her eyes light up. “Besides, she’s only mean because she loves him. You’re just new to her.”
Dana snorted. “So the diagnosis is: jealousy, with a touch of possessive attachment.”
Mel’s lips twitched. “I’d say chronic tortitude.”
Dana cackled. Robby groaned into his hands.
Robby tried to do what Mel had suggested; he kept trying to use treats to get on her good side. Nothing seemed to work.
It had been nearly a month since Sergeant Princess had declared war, and in that time, Robby had achieved exactly one thing: new scars. The cat’s reign of terror was unbroken, her tactics refined. She had learned to recognize the exact sound of Robby’s footsteps and preemptively hissed before he even reached the door.
He’d tried everything. Treats, toys, that ridiculous baby-voice Jack used when talking to her. He’d sat on the floor at a safe distance, avoiding eye contact like Mel had instructed, softly offering canned food like a peace treaty. She’d accepted the food, then scratched him anyway.
And through it all, the worst part wasn’t the blood loss. It was the sheer, gnawing, pent-up frustration.
Every night he stayed over, he and Jack would start fine, laughing, kissing, one of Jack’s hands finding his hip in that slow, unthinking way that made Robby’s pulse spike. But the second things got heated, there’d be a sound: a growl, a thump, the unmistakable jingle of Sergeant Princess’s collar. Jack would sigh, kiss him apologetically, and disappear down the hall to comfort her.
It had gotten to the point where Robby flinched at the sound of bells.
He’d tried to get Jack to come to his place instead, many times. “My place is closer,” he’d say. Or, “Princess can handle one night alone.” Once, he’d tried, “If she misses you that much, I’ll set up a Zoom call.”
But Jack would always laugh, shake his head, and say, “She gets anxious when I’m gone for too long.”
“I’m getting anxious when you’re gone,” Robby had muttered once, half-joking, half-ready to chew drywall.
By the last week, the sexual tension was bad enough that he was certain people could see it radiating off him at work. He was wound so tight that Dana started keeping her distance during charting. Mel, ever observant, had offered him a protein bar and gently told him he looked “kind of haunted.” Langdon teased him relentlessly, especially after finding out his mood was because of a cat.
So when Jack showed up at his locker after a long shift, still in scrubs and looking sheepish, Robby immediately braced for something.
“Hey, baby,” Jack said, leaning against the wall, tone too casual.
“Hey,” Robby replied warily, shutting his locker. “What’s that look?”
“What look?”
“The one you get when you’re about to ask me for something you know I’ll hate.”
Jack smiled faintly. “You know me so well.”
“Unfortunately.”
Jack scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, so, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but I’ve got this conference out in Philly this weekend. Trauma symposium thing. I was supposed to get a sitter for Sergeant Princess, but my neighbor backed out, and my sister’s out of town, and–”
Robby’s eyes widened. “No.”
Jack blinked. “I haven’t even asked yet.”
“No.”
“Robby–”
“Absolutely not.”
“She likes you,” Jack lied, too easily.
“She hates me. She tried to bite my ear last night, Jack.”
“She was startled.”
“Jack.”
Jack sighed, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something low and coaxing. “Please. Just two days. A day and a half. You don’t even have to sleep there if you don’t want to. Just make sure she eats, doesn’t destroy the couch, and doesn’t get stuck in the cabinets again.”
“Again?”
“Long story.”
Robby stared at him, jaw tightening. Jack looked tired, pleading, and stupidly, ridiculously handsome. His hair was mussed, and he had the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at his mouth.
Robby knew he was going to say yes before he even opened his mouth again.
“You owe me so much for this,” he muttered.
Jack grinned. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Robby said, crossing his arms. “But every time I try to collect, I get interrupted by a nine-pound monster.”
“Maybe absence will make her heart grow fonder.”
“She doesn’t have a heart, Jack.”
Jack stepped closer, catching his chin with two fingers, smiling in that infuriatingly soft way. “You’re a good man, Robby. You’ll survive.”
Robby wanted to say something scathing, but then Jack kissed him. Slow, deliberate, and unfair. When they broke apart, Robby’s voice came out rough. “If I die, I’m haunting you.”
Jack smirked. “I’ll make room between me and the cat.”
Robby groaned. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
Two days later, when Jack handed him the spare key and left for Philadelphia, Robby stood in the doorway of Jack’s apartment, Sergeant Princess glaring up at him from the arm of the couch, already regretting every decision that had led him here.
“Okay,” Robby said under his breath. “Just you and me, furball. Twenty-four hours, maybe a bit longer. We can do this.”
Sergeant Princess blinked slowly. Then she hissed.
Robby sighed. “Yeah. Thought so.”
Robby had decided, several hours into the weekend, that this was officially the stupidest thing he’d ever agreed to. The apartment was too quiet without Jack. He’d tried to make it feel normal for himself, brewed coffee in Jack’s mug, opened the windows for fresh air, even half-watched an old movie they’d meant to see together, but everything felt wrong. Empty.
Except, of course, for her.
Sergeant Princess sat on the back of the couch like some disdainful gargoyle, tail twitching in calculated irritation. She’d hissed the moment Jack’s suitcase rolled out the door that morning and hadn’t stopped glaring since.
“You can relax,” Robby told her, passing through the living room with his coffee. “Your overlord comes back tomorrow.”
The cat’s only response was a low, unimpressed chirp that somehow managed to sound like liar.
He ignored her and went back to scrolling through his phone, trying not to think about the fact that his weekend, what could have been a blissful, naked two days with Jack, had been reduced to babysitting. He loved Jack. God, he loved Jack. But the damn cat? That was another matter entirely.
He’d tried to get along with her that morning, setting down her favorite food, giving her space, even trying Mel’s “soft talking” method again. All he’d gotten in return was a swipe across the hand and a hairball on Jack’s favorite rug.
By midafternoon, Robby had given up pretending this was going to go smoothly. He tugged one of Jack’s hoodies over his chest; it smelled like cedar and cologne and something so distinctly Jack that it made his chest ache, and decided to keep Sergeant Princess contained for the night.
“Okay, demon,” he said, crouching a little to her level. “You get food, water, a bed, and your litter box in the bathroom. I get to live another day. Sound fair?”
Sergeant Princess blinked at him with the slow, deliberate expression of someone plotting arson.
“Perfect,” Robby muttered, scooping her up before she could protest. She immediately did protest, hissing, twisting, her claws catching on his sleeve. “Yeah, yeah, I hate you too.”
He set her gently in the bathroom, making sure her essentials were there. The cat’s tail flicked like a metronome of pure malice.
“You’ll survive one night,” he said, closing the door with more guilt than he wanted to admit. From behind it came a muffled yowl, then another, then the kind of low, continuous grumble that sounded disturbingly like verbal disapproval.
Robby sank onto the couch and tried to tune it out. He told himself she’d calm down eventually. He turned on the TV. He even managed to relax for a bit, stretching out with a blanket and the hoodie pulled up around his neck.
He must’ve dozed off, because when he opened his eyes again, the apartment was dim and quiet. The silence hit him first. The total, unnerving silence. No meowing, no scratching. Nothing.
“...Sergeant Princess?”
He sat up slowly. Nothing.
Robby frowned, walking toward the bathroom. The closer he got, the more wrong it felt. The apartment was too still. The air coming from under the bathroom door was cooler than it should’ve been.
He reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
Empty.
Her food dish was untouched. Her bed, Jack’s old flannel shirt, sat neatly in the corner. The litter box was pristine. The window above the tub was open. Robby froze. The thin curtain billowed with the breeze, faint city noise drifting in.
“No, no, no, no, no.” He ran a hand through his hair, scanning every inch of the tiny room as if the cat might somehow be hiding behind a towel. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He leaned out the window, heart hammering. The apartment was only on the third floor, facing a narrow alley lined with garbage bins and a few fire escapes. Nothing. No movement. No flash of tortoiseshell fur.
“Fuck,” Robby muttered, half in panic, half in disbelief.
For a second, he just stood there, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to decide whether to laugh, cry, or throw himself out the window after her.
Jack was going to kill him.
He pressed both hands over his face. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. You can fix this. You’re a trauma doctor. You can handle a cat.”
That pep talk didn’t help much. He was already grabbing his shoes, his phone, and Jack’s hoodie zipper halfway up when he muttered, “I’m so dead,” and bolted for the door.
Somewhere out there in Pittsburgh, Sergeant Princess, tiny, smug, and vengeful, was loose.
And Robby only had the rest of the evening to find her before Jack came home the next day.
Rain started to come down in heavy, unrelenting sheets, not the kind of soft, romantic drizzle that made city lights glow, but the kind that stung when it hit skin. It came cold, sideways, hammering against the sidewalks and rooftops as thunder rumbled over Pittsburgh.
Robby was already soaked to the bone. His hair clung to his forehead, the hood of Jack’s sweatshirt doing nothing to keep the water off his face. His jeans were heavy, plastered to his legs, and his breath came out hard and uneven as he turned another corner, flashlight beam shaking in his hand.
“Princess!” His voice was hoarse from shouting, swallowed up by the rain and wind. “Sergeant Princess! You smug little menace, where the hell are you?”
His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He’d been at it for over an hour, calling down every alley in a four-block radius, crouching under porches, making small cat sounds like an idiot.
She had to be freezing. Terrified. That thought kept stabbing through him.
“Dammit,” he muttered, dragging his hand over his face. “She’s a house cat, she doesn’t even know the street–”
His words broke off when thunder cracked overhead, lighting up the whole street in white for a split second. Rain hit harder, bouncing off the pavement, flooding the gutters. Robby’s chest squeezed tight. He was shivering, furious, and scared in a way he didn’t want to admit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just supposed to keep her safe for two days. Jack had begged him, the morning he left, voice soft with guilt.
“She’s finicky, I know. She’ll probably hiss, but she’s all bark. Just keep her fed and out of trouble. Please. It would mean a lot.”
And Robby had said yes, because it was Jack. Because Jack’s voice always softened when he talked about the cat, and because Robby had wanted to prove he could handle being part of this small, messy little domestic piece of Jack’s life.
Now, with rain running down the back of his neck and his hands numb from cold, all he could think was ‘I lost her.’ He stopped under a flickering streetlamp, chest heaving, and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Goddammit, Jack’s going to kill me.”
Then came a sound, faint, almost swallowed by the rain. A tiny, weak meow.
Robby’s head snapped up.
He turned in a slow circle, scanning the shadows between parked cars and trash bins. The meow came again, closer this time, brittle and high, like a kitten’s cry. He followed it, heart hammering, splashing through puddles until the flashlight beam landed on a small shape crouched beneath a metal stairwell.
“Princess?”
The cat was barely recognizable. Her tortoiseshell fur hung in wet clumps, plastered against her thin frame. Her tail was puffed up in a miserable attempt at self-defense, and she trembled from the cold.
When the flashlight passed over her, she flinched back with a hiss, not the loud, confident kind she used to throw at him, but something thin and shaky.
“Hey,” Robby said softly, voice cracking. He crouched down, lowering the flashlight. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s just me.” She didn’t move. Just stared, wide-eyed, sides heaving with each tiny breath. He felt his throat go tight. “Damn, you’re so small,” he murmured. “You’re all attitude, huh? And now look at you.”
Rain dripped from his chin as he slowly extended his hand, palm up, letting her sniff the air. “C’mon, Princess. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t mean to,” His voice faltered. “I should’ve kept the window closed. I shouldn’t have locked you in the bathroom at all.”
She blinked at him, trembling harder when thunder rolled again.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “He’ll be home soon, okay? We’ll go home. I’ll take you there. You’ll see him soon.” He pulled the hoodie’s zipper halfway down and held it open like a makeshift shelter. “Here. Warm. I know it smells like him. That’s what you want, right?”
For a long, breathless moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward, one paw, then another, until her front legs were pressed against his chest. Robby barely breathed. When he lifted her gently, she didn’t fight. She let out one small, broken sound and pressed her face into the fabric of Jack’s hoodie, as if trying to burrow into the smell.
“Yeah,” Robby murmured, holding her close as he zipped the hoodie around her. His voice shook. “I miss him too.”
Her tiny heart fluttered against his ribs. She was soaked, shivering, but alive.
The walk back to the apartment felt longer than the search had. Rain hit harder, his shoes sloshing through puddles, but the little ball of fur against his chest was warm now, her body rising and falling in small, even breaths.
By the time he got inside, his hands were numb and his teeth chattered. He kicked the door shut and went straight to the kitchen, still clutching her under the hoodie.
He peeled it open slowly, afraid she’d bolt again, but she didn’t move. She blinked up at him, her fur plastered flat, whiskers dripping, and made a soft, pitiful sound that sounded almost like an apology.
Robby swallowed hard. “You’re okay,” he said quietly, reaching for a towel. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”
She didn’t resist when he dried her off, wrapping her in the towel and rubbing small circles over her back. The low rumble that started in her chest startled him. It wasn’t quite a purr, but it was something close.
When he sat down on the couch, she climbed onto his lap without being forced. Her claws kneaded weakly against the fabric of Jack’s hoodie. Robby’s throat tightened again.
“I’m not mad,” he said after a long while, voice hoarse. “You were scared. He’s your whole world, huh?” The cat made a small sound, curling tighter. Robby leaned his head back against the couch, eyes stinging. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Mine too.”
By the time Jack came home the next day, the apartment smelled faintly of coffee and fur. Sergeant Princess was asleep on Robby’s chest, dry and warm, her tiny paw resting just over the stitched lettering on Jack’s hoodie. Robby didn’t even wake when the door opened.
Jack stood there for a long moment, taking in the sight, his cat safe and content, his boyfriend curled beneath her, both of them tangled together in quiet, exhausted peace. He snapped a quick picture of them on his phone before he made his way over. He scooped his cat up carefully before lying on Robby’s chest himself.
“I see you both worked things out,” Jack mumbled, pressing a kiss to Robby’s cheek.
Robby hummed, still half asleep, “Yeah… She’s not so bad. Think we both realized how much we both love you.”
Sergeant Princess purred louder between them, still smug as ever, and Jack laughed quietly, the sound low and safe. The rain eased outside, and the three of them drifted together into the quiet, contented stillness of morning.