#louils

“What do you mean no,” He asks, rearranging Squidge so their tiny face tucks into his collarbone, “since when are you a Cat God?”

The person rubs his face, green eyes blinking through the gap in his hands, like he’s too tired for this. Too fucking bad. He’s not taking Louis’s Squidge from him now. They’ve imprinted on him, now, like a duckling. It’d be plain cruel to just whisk them away, never to be seen again.

“Since I arranged to look at little Sam a few days ago, to see if I could put them up for adoption,” the person says, “since then.”

Louis huffs, stroking little Squidge behind their ears, “what kind of a name is Sam for a kitten, anyway?”

He might be in the wrong (which is something he’ll deny to his dying day), but. Anyone who names their cat Sam is probably made only of disappointment and lies.

And dramatic clothes that look like something his Nan would wear, which. Is very fitting, considering the fact the person’s shirt is open to their midriff.

“Sam’s a perfectly respectable name for a sweet kitten,” the person huffs, like they’re personally offended, “and it’s gender neutral. What would you call them, anyway?”

Louis cocks his eyebrow, “Squidge. I’d call them Squidge. Because they’re squidgy. And love me already, unlike you, Mx. Unbuttoned Titty Shirt In Winter.”

The person opens their mouth, like they’re ready to scream with pure unadulterated rage about the nickname, and Louis smirks. He’s always a winner. He’s just made for it. This kitten is his for the taking, little snuffly nose and all.

“Harry, actually,” the person- Harry- says, “m’name’s Harry, and at least I have better names for cats than you do.”

Louis strokes down Squidge’s back, has to restrain a tiny giggle when they shudder and mewl softly and sleepily.

“You’re the type of person to call their cat Dusty,” Louis shoots back, and Harry blinks before turning bright pink, right to the tips of the ears.

“How did you know that?” Harry demands, and Jesus fucking Christ they did. They named their cat Dusty. Louis is waiting for death.

“You seem the type,” Louis mumbles, “and m’name’s Louis, also, as if that has any bearing on whether I’m the most deserving of this kitten.”

“Pretty name for a pretty person,” Harry mumbles, soft, and Louis’s head turns into a slew of question and exclamation marks, screaming at him, “like a little star.”

“Oh,” Louis’s pretty sure he’s slightly flustered, like. At least eighty percent sure. He hopes he can blame it on Squidge, “oh, um. Thank you. I’m not giving you the kitten, but thank you.”

Harry wrinkles their nose, like they hadn’t even thought about using that as an excuse, and... that’s a little bit startling. So Harry is flirting with him, just because they can. That’s. Well.

“I wasn’t trying to, that’s just dirty tactics,” Harry says, “I can just get the shop owner to give them to me anyway, I don’t need to flirt with someone really cute to get a kitten.”

“That’s underhanded,” Louis responds, even though he’s still a little bit shaken by the fact Harry called him really cute, “that’s wicked.”

Harry wiggles their fingers, like they’re trying to show they’re magic, and really. Maybe Louis could get used to them. If they weren’t trying to ruthlessly steal this soft golden ball of fuzz nestled in the crook of his neck.

“That’s the power, that is,” Harry says, crooking their eyebrow, “of actually booking in a look at the animals before getting them.”

Louis feels the tears before he can stop them, because. Actually, he really is attached to Squidge right now. He’d really, really like to keep them. And it looks like Harry might prevent that, and, as dramatic as this all is, he’s still crying a little bit. Because he just wants a soft kitten of his own, honestly, and he’s so close to getting one. He can’t have that torn away from him.

Harry freezes, smirk sliding off their face like water, like suddenly they’re deeply unsure of everything that’s just happened.

“Um,” they begin, starting towards him, and Louis shrinks back, cuddling Squidge further to his chest, “I wasn’t going to take the, honestly, you can stop crying, I’m so sorry, I’m not normally mean or anything, I was mostly teasing, and I just got a little bit out of... my depth with it, and I promise I’m not going to take them. I can find another one to name poorly.”

Louis sniffles, ducking his head down so that his eyelashes flutter against the soft edge of Squidge’s tummy, and he faintly, very faintly, hears Harry murmur “so fucking pretty.” Something burns in his tummy, and he tries to ignore it.

“We could alternate,” Harry adds, suddenly, and Louis glances up in time to see something glint behind Harry’s eyes, “we could have them every other week, raise ‘em together.”

Louis blinks. And blinks again.

“Really,” he mumbles, and Squidge lets out a tiny brrp noise, like they’re letting him know their motor is running fine, “you’d really do that? With me, a stranger, someone you have never met before?”

Harry nods immediately, hair bouncing up and down. 

“With me.” He confirms, pointing to himself and Squidge, “And this cat. You’d alternate. Like divorced parents and their kid.”

“Yeah, I’d actually, um,” Harry goes slightly pinker, if possible, “I’d like it? I’d like to get to know you, if um. You’d like that, too.”