#kitty johnson

      Kitty, for what it was worth, seemed fairly comfortable from her perch on the sofa. She blinked lazily at Fritz, close to falling asleep and content that her kittens were toddling about on the floor, bumping into furniture and occasionally the large human who lingered by the entryway.

      But that train of thought brought Fritz back to his original idea, especially when he scooped up the kitten with soot-colored fur from zooming between stacks of old newspapers and magazines that were yet to be tossed. Brenda had her hands full looking after herself let alone Kitty; adding in nearly half a dozen new kittens… Fritz frowned when he held the little guy up to his face and the kitten mewled.

      Outside of work, Brenda didn't have much time for Fritz, even, though she was making an effort—and a solid one, at that. But kittens needed a lot more than an effort since they weren't independent creatures.

      Fritz sighed. The kitten smushed one of its paws against Fritz' nose and cocked its head to one side.

      "Found it!" Brenda announced, the clack of her heels announcing her return. She beamed and shook the small bag of treats. "Lemme just feed Kitty real quick, make sure he's comfortable, and then we can grab dinner."

      It'd been a few weeks with the kittens, and still— "Make sure she's comfortable," Fritz corrected, putting the kitten down. He paused. "Wait, what happened to feeding the kittens?"

      Brenda squinted, the split-second precursor to her frown when she was reminded of something she'd clearly forgotten. "Oh, damn it…! I meant to mix more of their gruel—wet food and milk, eugh—this morning when I fed them, but I ran out of time."

      Fritz checked the hour on his watch. "I didn't make a reservation, so we've got plenty of time before the restaurant closes."

      "Are you sure?" She furrowed her brow, but at the same time she mustered a small, grateful smile.

      He chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure. It only takes a few minutes, doesn't it? You make their dinner, I'll wrangle the kittens, and we'll be on our way."

      This time, Brenda replied enthusiastically with a kiss before turning heel and heading back into the kitchen.

      Fritz shook his head to himself and tried stifling a smile while he turned his attention elsewhere. He was well aware that love made people do funny things sometimes…made them shed their suit blazer and roll up their sleeves and go kitten-hunting around a person's living room, for instance.

      Despite his earlier musings on keeping their distance, he wondered if at least naming the kittens in the short term wouldn't be a help—especially right now, when all Fritz wanted to do was to call for each of the freaking things individually instead of saying, "Here, kitty, kitty," only to have Kitty send him looks he felt certain were judgmental from her throne on the sofa. Some help the new mother was.

      Crawling on all fours didn't give him much of an advantage over the tiny creatures, either, who could slip so easily under and between things that were hard for Fritz to reach. Plus, being down here didn't help him much when that speedy one got to zipping around the room around, looking like a black smudge fleeing across Brenda's floor.

      …actually, the longer Fritz spent observing the kittens and herding them, certain details jumped out at him. It was harder now not to associate certain names with the kittens, it turned out, especially since they seemed so much like several members of Brenda's squad.

      The sibling pair who constantly mewled at each other but never seemed to separate? The squat one was Provenza and its sibling definitely was Flynn.

      That zippy one, chasing after everything, including its prey…i.e., toys? Sanchez, for sure.

      The one hovering by the sofa, hoping to stick to its mother, Kitty, like glue? Fritz rolled his eyes at the uncanny likeness that one had to Gabriel.

      But these were the easiest and most pleasant of the litter to gather. When Fritz ushered them towards the feeding station just inside the kitchen and realized one was missing, he knew where he'd find that one…

      …and even though Fritz had left his blazer and not his shoes by the door this time, there the kitten was, sitting atop the jacket with its back legs firmly planted. Since he'd been caught in the act this time, he hissed when Fritz drew near with a grimace and scooped up the crapping kitten and got him to some litter instead.

      Yeah. This one Fritz had dubbed Pope, and he couldn't wait to find Pope the kitten a new home—the sooner, the better.

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge in the HPFC forum on FFN. The Closer (and Major Crimes, tbqh) is one of my comfort series; I watch reruns constantly and still crave one more series (a trilogy! would be lovely!!!), and I have a lot of plans to expand it myself, but alas I need the time to sit down and write all those ideas. :'D *the struggles of being a multi-fandom writer & artist* But catching the rerun of s1e8, "Batter Up," inspired this idea , so I decided to start off light! This prolly comes somewhere after e9, "Good Housekeeping," idk. Anyway. Again, just smthg mildly fluffy and funny. XD I can't get the kitten comparisons out of my head, for sure!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!