Chapter Text
Felix is tacking up a missing poster for the cat when a saccharine voice coos behind him.
“Oh no, that's so sad, a lost kitty!” The sound crawls up Felix's spine, and he drives the pushpin so deep into the apartment complex bulletin board that he swears he feels it punch through the cork and the backing. The voice that follows is even worse, prickles at his scalp and the back of his neck in a completely different way.
“Yeah, sure—oh, hey!” It's Felix's neighbor, the stupidly hot one who seems to go through girls like tissues and does his laundry shirtless, to Felix's endlessly horny frustration. “I've got her!” The voice, warm, is right over his shoulder, and Felix turns to meet brown eyes and a slightly sheepish smile.
“What?”
“I've got your cat.” Felix blinks up at him for a moment, then turns and pulls the poster down so he can have two seconds to collect himself.
“Why do you have my cat?” he asks when he turns back, and he can see the girl is getting a little antsy. Poor thing, she must not know the guy is going to drop her like a hot rock.
“Ok, so,” he starts, and the girl tugs his arm. “Yeah, bye Princess,” he says absently, barely looking at her, and Felix wonders for a second if he even remembers her name as the girl looks affronted and drops his arm like she's throwing it, storming off while she mutters about him being an asshole. He seems completely unfazed, just runs a hand through his stupid, messy-in-a-sexy-way red hair and continues on. “So like let me preface this with a fervent apology, because I'm pretty sure my cat knocked your cat up? I have an appointment to get him fixed next week, it's kind of a perfect storm situation.”
“Wh—! I can't have kittens!” The complex's lease allows a maximum of two pets per apartment, and even then Felix can't afford to take care of a litter of kittens. Vet bills are hardly cheap.
Felix knows, somewhere inside, that he is irrationally angry. He was the one who decided to take in the apartment complex's resident stray, because it was getting colder out and he worried, and he was the one who had let her slip past on accident four days ago when he was running late to work. He hadn't gotten her to the vet yet, because he'd been slammed at work with new clients, which meant she wasn't spayed or even microchipped or vaccinated yet.
Really, he's lucky that it's literally the guy next door who has the cat he had grown stupidly attached to in the span of one week.
However.
The Handsome Cat Neglecter does not quail beneath the furious glare Felix gives him, only grips the side of his neck and looks apologetic.
“I know, I'm really sorry. It was definitely my fault, I brought her in because it was raining and I was keeping them separate but my girlfriend let Garf out—my ex, anyways, but that's not the point.” He sighs, rubs his hand along his neck. “Uh. I'll pay child support? I'm Sylvain, by the way,” and he extends a hand that Felix stares at as he is still trying to parse 'child support'. Sylvain withdraws the hand, but he doesn't look too offended. “You can come get her now, if you've got time?”
“Child support?” Felix finally blurts, and the bastard has the gall to chuckle; it curls warmly in the pit of Felix's stomach.
“Well, I mean, you'll have to take her to the vet and stuff, right? And kittens are expensive.” He starts walking towards the stairs that lead up to their second floor apartments, and Felix follows. “You are gonna take her to the vet?” Sylvain throws a concerned look over his shoulder at Felix, and Felix scowls.
“Obviously, but especially if you're footing the bill.” Sylvain grins at him, and Felix's hand tightens on the rail of the stairway with strangling force.
“Sure, I promise. Never let it be said I'm a deadbeat dad. Uh, what's her name, by the way?”
This presents a bit of a problem, because Felix hadn't thought he'd really be sharing that with anyone besides a vet, who probably saw weirder names all the time; Ashe, who would never judge—or at least had the grace not to tease; and Caspar, who was too cheerfully oblivious to even think of teasing. He finds himself going warm in the face.
“Uh. M...Mademoiselle Maupin.” Sylvain, already a few steps ahead of him down the open hallway, stops and turns to look at him in surprise.
“What, like, the opera singer?” Felix frowns.
“The ope—no, like the famous French duelist!”
“Who was also an opera singer,” Sylvain says with a pleased little smile, and goddess Felix just wants to get his cat back into his apartment so this beautiful, surprisingly intelligent bastard will stop making his pulse do funny things—it's probably not healthy. “It's a good name, I was just calling her Duchess; she seems very regal.” Felix is, despite himself, a little charmed by that. “What do I call you, by the way?” he asks with a little wink as he unlocks his front door. Felix does not squirm at the wink.
“Felix,” he says, and Sylvain hums thoughtfully as he holds the door for Felix to enter the apartment, guarding the door against any feline escapes.
Their apartments have the same layout, of course, but as Sylvain flips on lights Felix is surprised to find the interior so far from what he expected. Sylvain is handsome and has the muscled build to rival the regular clientele of the exclusive country club's gym where Felix works, and every time Felix sees him with a woman it's a different girl—and he sees him with women often. He had expected some kind of bro cave, or a sex den, not...
The furniture is minimalist in warm colors, reds and browns, and what parts of the walls aren't lined with bookshelves are covered in photographs; landscapes, mostly, though there are a few group shots by a framed poster for a musical at a famous local playhouse. The place is also spotless, and Sylvain even has coasters on his low coffee table. It's cozy, and, frankly, makes Felix a little self-conscious about the last time he cleaned his own apartment.
“She's just in here—ah, you can borrow my cat carrier if you bring it by before next Friday,” Sylvain says, ducking into the small side room that Felix uses in his own apartment as a spare room for whenever Caspar crashes at his place after work. Sylvain has it set up as an office with a drafting table and a chess set. There's a bookshelf with chess trophies. This is so incredibly nerdy that Felix feels like he should be making out with Sylvain up against a locker, right before he shoves the taller man inside of it.
“I'll have it back tomorrow, if you're free,” he says instead, focusing on the soft and slightly irritated meows of Mlle. Maupin as Sylvain emerges with her in his arms. He snags the Missing poster from Felix’s hand and passes the cat to him, and Felix does not notice how warm and big his hands are. Fuck.
He brushes quick hands over Mlle. Maupin's dark fur instead, checking her over and finding nothing amiss. While he does that, Sylvain opens a closet and fishes out a cat carrier, and he brings it and sets it on the counter that separates the kitchen from the rest of the living area. It's a bit of a joint effort, getting a reluctant Mlle. Maupin into the carrier, and there is betrayal in her yellow eyes when the carrier is secured. Sylvain leans against the counter when they finish.
"Can I get you anything? Cup of tea? A beer?" Sylvain wiggles an eyebrow, and Felix rolls his eyes.
"It's two in the afternoon." It's two in the afternoon. "Fuck, I'm gonna be late for work—thanks for the carrier, I'll, ah shit—"
"Go, go," Sylvain says, grinning, "I'll text you. Got your number on the flier, right?"
"Yes, fine, thanks," and Felix rushes to not be late.
+
Sylvain is drafting set plans for the new musical Manuela wants to run when his phone buzzes with a text, and at first he ignores it because it's probably Gemma, his latest ex. He finishes the line he had been penciling along a ruler and flips his phone over, figuring he ought to block her number anyways—his block list is long and filled with exes.
But instead of Gemma the notification is for [❤️ Baby Mama ❤️] and he almost fumbles the phone unlocking it. Felix had texted him back a terse 'thanks' when he had sent his number and told him to keep the cat carrier, and then nothing for days. Sylvain was ashamed about the whole cat situation, but he felt absolutely blessed to have an excuse to talk to his ridiculously gorgeous neighbor for more than two seconds in the laundry room or the hallway.
[❤️ Baby Mama ❤️]: Your cat definitely got Mlle. Maupin pregnant
[Me]: Oh no, I'm sorryyyy
[Me]: 😔😔😔🙇🙇🙇
[Me]: I'm home until five if you want to drop off the bill
[❤️ Baby Mama ❤️]: I'll be home in 10
[Me]: Cool!
Ugh, 'cool'? Shit. Well, he had already hit send, so.
Sylvain sets aside his phone and stretches, and then goes and gives himself a once over in front of his mirror, because, well, what will it hurt if he makes sure he is incredibly sexy when Felix drops by? The man is so hot it's criminal, always in tight pants and motorcycle boots, leather motorcycle jacket over tight turtleneck sweaters. And the hair—don't get Sylvain started on Felix's ponytail, long and raven-black and silky, curling a little at the ends when it's humid out.
Sylvain has noticed the humidity-curl. Sylvain cannot help but notice.
It's such a shame, Sylvain thinks as he opens the door roughly ten minutes later to Felix's knock, that Felix isn't single.
Felix is standing there looking incredible as always, a navy turtleneck today and no jacket, and instead of his usual clunky boots it's ankle-boots with pointed toes that make his legs look even longer. Sylvain tries very hard not to think about how much he would like those legs wrapped around him, considering right next to Felix is The Boyfriend.
“Hey, Felix. Sylvain,” he offers to The Boyfriend, extending a hand, and he does not let himself be a macho dickhead and squeeze when they shake hands.
“I'm Ashe; it's nice to meet you.” He's cute, which is annoying—Sylvain would feel better if he knew he was definitely hotter. And, well, he is 'hotter', but if 'cute' is Felix's type, Sylvain does not hold a candle to soft silver hair and big green eyes and freckles.
“Come on in,” he says, ushering them inside, “no sense standing in the hall.” He starts heating up water as soon as they're inside, before he's even offered them tea, just to have something to do with his hands. “Make yourselves comfortable. Tea?”
“Please,” Ashe says, and glances at Felix, who looks slightly uncomfortable even as he nods. “Ah, who is this?” Ashe asks, and Sylvain looks over to see his ginger cat hopping onto the counter for attention.
“That,” Sylvain answers, getting out cups and tea bags, “is Garfield, and he's not supposed to be on the counter. You can hold him, he's an attention whore.”
“You named your cat Garfield?” Felix sounds mildly disgusted even as Ashe scoops the cat up and whispers at it.
“Mr. President, if you're nasty,” Sylvain quips with a wink, pouring the hot water, and Felix turns pretty pink even as he scoffs. Ashe doesn't seem to even notice, too busy letting Garf sniff at his ear.
“You didn't really name your cat after President Garfield.”
“I absolutely named him after the twentieth president.” He isn't even lying, but he doesn't mind if Felix doesn't believe him. Still, he doesn't have much room to talk. “Not as illustrious as a famous French duelist—“
“Oh my god, shut up.” Sylvain passes out the tea with perfect timing, and a look passes between Felix and Ashe before Ashe sighs and moves toward the living room with the cat in one arm and the tea in the other hand. He uses a coaster, and Sylvain really wishes the guy was at least a little unlikable. He looks back at Felix, who is holding his tea and staring into it as though it contains all the universe's secrets.
“So, the vet bill?” Sylvain prompts, and Felix frowns.
“Maupin is mine, so anything not kitten related, I'll pay. Uh.” His shoulders draw in a fraction. “About the kittens. The vet said it's early enough that they can... terminate. The whole... Thing.” Sylvain glances over at Ashe, who is very obviously not looking at them, and back to Felix, who is glaring into his cup.
“Oh? I didn't know they did that kind of thing. I guess that's up to you, though, since she's your cat. Either way, I'm still down to pay for kitten costs.” Felix looks up at him, then, something like surprised relief in his eyes. “Hey, I said I would, right? I don't break promises.” Sylvain shrugs, and Felix's whole posture relaxes; he must have been conflicted about the kittens. When Sylvain shoots another glance at Ashe, he's got an odd little smile on his face.
“Well then. I want to split costs; it feels kind of shitty to make you pay for everything.” It's the first time anyone has ever declined taking full advantage of him, after he's offered himself up on a platter practically, and Sylvain leans against his kitchen counter and treats Felix to a grin that has the man turning pink again.
“Sure, Felix; whatever you want.”
