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Scaramouche had never expected to trip over something alive and meowing as soon as he stepped over the threshold of his apartment. Startled, he watched a ball of black fur dart away from him. A loud but calm voice called out from deeper inside the apartment:
"Welcome back! Do you want pasta?"
Scara straightened, brushed off his pants, and shouted back, "Stupid, why did you bring a cat home?!"
"Do you want it or not?"
"...I do."
Without getting an answer to his question about the cat, Scaramouche strode into one of the rooms, where two small beds, two tables, and a single closet stood modestly. He dropped his empty bag on the floor and stepped back out. The next room—the last, apart from the bathroom—was the kitchen. His roommate, beautiful as ever, was already arranging plates of pasta with some suspicious-looking sauce on the table.
"So, about the cat." Scara turned his gaze to Albedo, who had just sat down and gestured for him to join.
"What about the cat?" Albedo asked, smiling as Scara reluctantly took the seat next to him.
"Where did it come from?"
"I bought it."
"Are you dumb?" Scaramouche stared at Albedo incredulously, then glanced back at his plate and began to eat. This man—barely scraping by on basic expenses—had bought a cat?
"My friend sent me a picture while picking out a cat. When I saw this one, I thought it looked like you, so I bought it," Albedo explained between bites, talking with his mouth partially full.
"Do you know how much money you'll spend on this thing?"
"It doesn’t matter. It's a cat."
"You're the one taking care of it, do you realize that? You bought a fucking cat without even asking me."
"I'm sorry. I thought you'd be okay with it."
"I don’t mind," Scara muttered. "You got a name for it yet?"
"I haven’t thought of one."
Their conversation dwindled as they ate. When they finished, Scara moved to wash the dishes. From his spot at the table, Albedo suddenly called out: "Scaracat would be a good name."
"I'm gonna kick you in the head."
With a theatrical sigh, Albedo replied indignantly, "It sounds right to me."
Scaramouche turned to glare at him, but Albedo had already moved behind him, forcing Scara to look up—and not quite angrily.
"Don't call the cat by my name. It’s fucking weird."
"Okay, okay, don’t be mad."
Albedo wrapped his arms around Scara's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. Scara paused, turning off the water and drying his hands. Albedo’s hands, cold as if he'd just come in from the snow, pressed against Scara’s warmth.
"How was your day?" Scara asked softly, glancing at Albedo’s unkempt golden hair.
"I worked on that canvas, went shopping, and, well, got the cat. It wasn’t bad," Albedo murmured, hugging him tighter. "What about you?"
"I'm exhausted," Scaramouche grumbled, leaning into the touch. "I'd rather stay home and play Dota."
"Hm…" Albedo hummed something unintelligible, then lifted his head to meet Scara’s tired gaze. "Do you want to relax?"
"Yeah. I want to relax." Scaramouche turned in Albedo's arms, wrapping his own around the taller man's neck. His tone dropped, half-serious: "Either we have sex, or I break something."
Albedo blinked, scanning his roommate’s face for hidden subtext. Then, with a small smile, he leaned in for a kiss. It started dry, causing Scara to pull away and lick his lips before diving back in, pulling Albedo closer by his hair.
Albedo responded by pressing him gently against the countertop, understanding that Scara wanted to cede control tonight. The kiss deepened, heated, as Scara’s hands tightened in his hair, sending shivers down Albedo’s spine.
When they broke apart, Scaramouche wiped his mouth, his voice hoarse. "Fuck, I need a shower."
Albedo was about to let him go when something sharp clawed at his leg. Hissing, he looked down to see the black furball pouncing and clinging to him.
"Fucking cat…" he grumbled.
Scara crouched, chuckling. "How small… and those claws."
"It’s Scaracat," Albedo declared, lifting the kitten by the scruff to examine it.
"What the fuck?"
"You cling too. And your claws are just as sharp."
"Not funny."
But despite Scaramouche’s protests, the name Scaracat stuck.