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They had been married for five years when Arthur first noticed the cat. It was a tiny grey thing with enormous green-gold eyes and stripes a bit like a tiger. At first, Arthur's heart had swelled and broken at once, but when he realized that it wasn't actually a kitten, he was all right.
He'd noticed it as he was sitting in the back garden one lovely spring day, sketch pad and pencils at the ready. He was halfway through his sketch of a flower when a quiet little Mrow! distracted him. He looked around, hand paused over the paper, in search of the source of the sound. After a moment and a rustle of greenery, the slender thing appeared. It looked up at him with those pretty gold eyes, pupils ringed in grassy green, and mrow'd again. The very tip of its tail flicked about, making Arthur think of a little flag.
"Oh, hello there," he said quietly. He set the pencil aside and leaned down in his chair, hand outstretched. It blinked at him, staring for a moment, likely considering. He waited quietly and patiently and was rewarded with the little thing trotting to his hand. It sniffed his fingers delicately before butting its head against his palm. He grinned hugely and rubbed behind its ears.
"You're a friendly thing, aren't you?" He asked as it purred contentedly and tilted its head up so he could scratch its little white chin. He was absolutely certain that it was smiling.
He was a bit distressed by its lack of collar. Sweet as this cat was, what if it never made it home?
Carefully, he scooped the happy thing up and went to the garden gate. He was going to make sure it made it home all right.
Two hours later, Arthur returned home with a purring cat still in his arms. None of his neighbours had even seen the cat before. Mrs Pritchett, who was a veterinarian with two cats of her own, had told Arthur that the cat was a female and given him some food and litter to last a few days. She'd promised to ask her patients' owners if they were interested in adopting a cat.
Arthur had already bonded with her, though. Charlie was a happy, bright thing, eager to play and be petted and chase after things. Arthur was thoroughly charmed and delighted when he threw a paper bow from Christmas and Charlie brought it back, dropping it at his feet.
He shut her away in the bathroom when he heard Skip come home. Martin and Douglas had done a quick cargo flight to Scotland, and Arthur was surprisingly more eager to get started on some sketches than flying for only a little while. Plus, it was worth it now that he had found Charlie.
"Hi, Skipper," Arthur said brightly as he caught his husband in the entry. They kissed sweetly and lightly.
"Hi yourself," Martin laughed, flushing prettily from the little hello. This was something that had stuck around, and Arthur loved it. The pink spreading across his hisband's nose and cheeks was beautiful, one of the most beautiful things in the world. It almost made him forget the mild apprehension at what he was about to say. He smiled down at Martin, hands still neatly on the captain's waist.
"Now, Skip, before you get upset, let me just say that I didn't mean for it to happen," Arthur said in a rush, ending the rush of words by biting his lip. Martin raised a brow.
"Arthur, what did you do?"
"And I know you're not allergic or anything, and I promise that I can take care of her—"
"Arthur," Skip said, using his I'm the captain and I have authority, so tell me what's going on now voice. Normally, Arthur, bloody loved it and it often resulted in them snogging like teenagers, but right now, he felt nervous and contrite.
"Founacat," he mumbled in a quiet rush.
"Arthur," his husband said again, and Arthur sighed.
"I found a cat this afternoon." Martin's brows knitted together in something that felt like contrition.
"Arthur, love, I'm not sure we can take care of a cat."
Arthur grinned, knowing that this wasn't instant refusal.
"Not to worry, Skip! Mrs Pritchett down the road said she'd take care of her when we're gone, and anyway, she can be an inside/outside cat, and she's really sweet, and I think you'll like her!"
Before Martin could protest, Arthur darted to the bathroom to retrieve Charlie. He carried her to his Skipper and watched as his face softened. Once Arthur was close enough, Martin held out a hand for her to sniff. She responded by butting against his open palm like she did with Arthur.
"She is cute, I guess," Martin said, smiling. Probably in spite of himself. "And you're sure she doesn't belong to anybody?"
"I checked. Charlie can be ours if you want."
Martin laughed. "Charlie? I thought you said Charlie was a girl."
"She is."
Now Skip raised an eyebrow. "You named a girl Charlie?"
"Is that a problem?"
Martin kissed Arthur sweetly on the lips and rubbed the top of Charlie's purring head.
"No, not at all. I like it."
Charlie raised her chin so Martin could scratch at its underside, and it was immediately clear that she'd gone and found herself some humans.