(not) Roommates

My contribution to this week's genre of kittenfic (aka weekly challenge prompt #10 - "A stray kitten shows up at Mason's warehouse and Wyatt is quite taken with it."). It's all over the place given the crazy week I've had, and it's late - sorry. Hopefully it's still coherent enough to follow. Also, the Wyatt here decided he wasn't quite as taken with the kitten as the prompt would have you believe, at least at first. And please excuse any inaccuracies about kitten behavior; I'm so not a cat person. I know very little about kitten anything considering the last (only?) little tiny kitten like this that I was around even briefly was about six years ago, a little gray gal named – true story – Lucy.

Wyatt had just closed his eyes to brace himself against the worst of the queasiness that still came with every jump through time when Lucy's voice rang out above the din of the lifeboat.

"Wait! Rufus, stop!"

"Stop what?" Rufus yelled. "It can't stop now!"

That was when Wyatt's eyes flew back open, seeking out Rufus and Lucy, trying to gauge how bad whatever it was that she was screaming about was. He couldn't go solely on her voice; she could have been panicking over anything from a bee, to a bomb, to Emma herself forcing her way in through the hatch. He followed her gaze down just as she shrieked again, "Wyatt, get it!"

And then he saw what she was staring at.

It wasn't a bee. Or a bomb. Or Emma or any other threat.

It was a kitten.

A tiny gray one, bouncing around next to his foot as the lifeboat rattled and roared, desperately trying to gain traction by clinging to one of his boot laces.

"What the…" Wyatt grumbled, a mix of incredulous and irrationally annoyed at the little creature. He hated cats. And leaning down mid-jump would hardly do him any favors, nausea-wise, but nonetheless, with a sigh, he flung off his right shoulder strap, gripped the other with his left hand and swing down far enough to snatch up the scrawny little thing and hold it against his chest as they were flung through time.

And then they were back in 2017.

He peered down as he unbuckled the remainder of his safety harness. The thing was clearly terrified, its claws now well embedded in his 1830's suit jacket.

Rufus, still having no idea what the commotion had been about, flung off his own seat belt and whirled around. Once he realized what exactly it was that was in Wyatt's hand, his eyes widened. "Uh, that- that's from the past," he stammered. "Can we do that?"

"I think we just did," Lucy replied, now having her own straps undone and looking curiously over toward him and the kitten. "I'm actually kind of surprised we haven't had a stowaway before. Feline or otherwise," she added.

"Is it ok?" Rufus inquired.

Wyatt shrugged; he didn't care one way or another for cats, whether they came from almost two centuries earlier or not. "I dunno."

Lucy crouched next to him, leaning ever so slightly on his thigh, and reached out to give the trembling kitten a little scratch on the head. "She's scared."

Rufus tilted his head curiously. "She?"

"He?" Lucy countered, eyeing Wyatt.

He shrugged again and tugged the little thing from his coat, holding it out to peer at its underside. "It's…" He squinted. "…furry." He shook his head, shifting forward on his seat. "I don't care. Here," he said, shoving it toward Lucy. "All yours."

The intent had just been to get rid of the kitten so he could get up, but it turned out the kitten was faster than he was. Caught off guard, Lucy didn't get a firm grip on it, and before they knew it, the thing had flung itself back in his direction and had dug its claws into his leg, hanging on for dear life.

Lucy chuckled from where she still crouched and shot him a wry smile. "Looks like you have a fan."

Wyatt just rolled his eyes at her, plucked the thing up from his leg with one hand and pushed past Lucy to climb out of the lifeboat. Like with any other return, Mason and Agent Christopher were there to meet them, so before she could protest, he made a quick hand-off, shoving the kitten at Christopher as he brushed by her. "Here, have a cat."

He was quite sure he would have gotten an earful for that action were it not for the fact that they all got an earful from the kitten before Christopher could get her wits about her to say anything. There appeared to be a whole lot of awkward flailing that accompanied the pathetic little meows, which Christopher hardly looked amused about, but Wyatt wanted no part of it, so he kept his distance and waited for Lucy and Rufus to follow him out of the lifeboat.

Lucy rattled off a quick summary of the mission to Mason and Christopher, finishing with a smirk in his direction. "And Wyatt got himself a pet."

He glared right back. "No, he didn't."

"She likes you best," Lucy chided, taking the still-yowling thing from Christopher and pushing it into his arms. He'd have backed away but the stupid railing stopped him, and even he wasn't going to let the thing fall five feet when it was so little.

But damned if the stupid thing didn't shut right up once he had it.

Lucy nodded at him with a smug smile. "See?"

"It's not mine," Wyatt protested, "I hate cats." He spotted Jiya making her way over to Rufus and called out, "Jiya, you want a cat?"

"Allergic, sorry! So don't let Rufus near it either!" she yelled back.

He scowled and eyed Lucy again. "You take it."

"I would," she shrugged, "but I'm still in a hotel until I find a new place. No pets."

Wyatt sighed. Of course Rittenhouse would provoke enough of a butterfly effect that the fallout from Lucy's mother being a member and Lucy's subsequent moving out of the house would be such that he ended up with a cat.

So he turned to Agent Christopher. She shut him down before he could even form the words. "My kids don't take enough responsibility with the dog they have; I'm not adding a kitten to the mix." She smirked at him. "Looks like you're on your own, Master Sergeant. Well," she added, heading for her office. "Except for your friend there."

Getting desperate, Wyatt scanned the open area of desks. "Anyone? Cat?" he offered, holding it up. "From 1834?" But seeing as it was late on a Friday night, the place was mostly deserted and the only response was a couple of cackles from some of the programmers who were probably just stoned and playing video games. "Fine," he sighed, looking back at Lucy. "I'll take it to a shelter."

She shook her head and for a second, he almost believed she was upset when she informed him, "It's almost midnight. Not open." She gave herself away with an amused grin as she waltzed off in the direction of the women's locker room. "You have a new roommate," she called over her shoulder in a singsong voice.

"We're not roommates," he muttered after her. Seemingly out of options, Wyatt sighed. He wasn't heartless enough to just leave it at Mason by itself overnight. But what the hell did he know about having a kitten, even if only overnight? He looked down, regarding it warily as he headed toward the men's locker room trying in vain to come up with some sort of alternative. Under any other circumstances, he'd tell Lucy to just sneak it into the hotel with her, but the last thing he wanted was for her to get caught and end up forced into yet another relocation, even if a small one between hotels; she'd been through enough with the news about her mother.

He was even going to try foisting it off on Rufus to take home to his mother and brother, but the locker room was empty when he and the cat entered. Wyatt surmised that Rufus had hurried his way into a late Friday date with Jiya, not that he blamed him. But, he grumbled to himself as he set the kitten down on the floor, that still left him the cat. By the time Wyatt was back in his modern clothes, he still had no ideas. And, he realized, scanning the ground, he'd also apparently managed to lose the stupid kitten. Lucy was going to kill him.

Thankfully, just as he was really starting to wonder where it could have gone to, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that the shirt he'd taken off and tossed on the floor moved. He strode over, ready to just scoop up the thing and get out of there.

But just as he caught sight of it over the folds of the fabric, it gave a sleepy little stretch and snuggled up to the sleeve of the shirt like it was some sort of security blanket.

Ok, even he could admit that was kind of cute.

But that didn't mean that he didn't still want to not have to deal with it somehow, so he just bundled the whole thing up, shirt and all, against his stomach, with half a plan forming in the back of his mind.

The object of said plan was waiting for him right outside the locker room. "How's your friend?" Lucy asked, her tone cheeky as she trailed behind him down the hall toward the parking lot door. "Have a name yet?"

Wyatt snorted. "Whatever the shelter wants to call it tomorrow."

"You should keep her," Lucy suggested as they exited the building.

"Nope."

They drew to a stop, his car in one direction, hers in another. She reached to give the kitten a scratch on the head, leaning down to it and asked softly, "So I have to say good bye, huh?"

"Nope."

That got Lucy's attention; she stood straighter and eyed him questioningly.

"You want to take care of the cat tonight. I don't," Wyatt stated plainly. "You can't have a cat. I can," he continued. "So you take care of the cat where I can have a cat. And hold it in the car." And considering it was really his last option to not have to deal with the kitten himself, Wyatt didn't give Lucy the option to say no, instead just handing over the shirt/cat bundle and taking off for his car.

So another minute or two later, Lucy was indeed in his passenger seat, the cat on her lap, and they were headed for his place and maybe he hadn't thought this through entirely because now apparently Lucy was not only in his car, but she was also apparently spending the night with him. …the kitten. Not with him, she was certainly not spending the night with him. She was spending the night with the kitten, which just would happen to be located at his apartment.

He hadn't had a woman in that apartment… ever.

And while the fear of Lucy slipping away from him, one text at a time, once he'd have gone back to Pendleton had given him the courage to acknowledge, or at least almost acknowledge, the something – the possibilities – between them, when Emma had hijacked the mothership and everyone had fallen back into a routine, it had been all too easy to retreat back into the safety of seeing her almost every day but still at arm's length. But tonight? With her in-

For the first time since it had shown up at his feet, Wyatt was grateful for the stupid kitten. It was clearly not happy with Lucy, fidgeting and letting out enough whiny meows to distract him from his thoughts. Lucy's indignant 'Hey!' was even louder a minute later, when, having had enough of her trying to wrestle it into holding still, the kitten scratched at her hand.

It was at that point that Lucy gave up, reached over, and dropped the kitten on his lap as he drove.

And of course the stupid thing calmed right down again.

Lucy just shook her head, giving him a teasing smile. "She likes you."

Wyatt just glared again.

It was still another twenty minutes before they pulled up to his apartment building, Lucy having insisted that they needed to get litter and kitten food despite his protests that neither were necessary for the roughly 9 hours they'd be dealing with the thing; he knew he at least had a can of tuna they could give it.

She'd shut him up when she'd reminded him that he'd told her in no uncertain terms that she was the one taking care of the kitten for the night.

So it was after midnight, but the kitten was well set up in the corner of his kitchen in a large box Lucy had snagged at the grocery store, with Wyatt's 1830's shirt, plus a ratty fleece blanket he normally kept in his car, a small flat box with litter, plus a bowl of water and a pile of kitten food. Lucy was well set up in his bedroom, with a toothbrush plus a borrowed t-shirt and pajama pants. Wyatt was significantly less well set up, relegated to the couch and a lumpy pillow and the task of trying not to dwell on the not-unpleasant feeling it was giving him to have Lucy in his apartment, stupid kitten notwithstanding.

He wasn't even able to use sleep as a reprieve from dwelling on that feeling, because, less than five minutes after he'd settled as best he could onto the couch, the stupid kitten started yowling again.

At first he tried to wait it out.

It kept meowing.

He tried yelling at it to shut up.

More meowing.

Then he tried yelling down the hall to the bedroom to Lucy to inform her that her cat wouldn't shut up.

Lucy was apparently asleep and blissfully unaware of the commotion coming from the kitchen, which now included the rasp of claws on cardboard.

Grumbling, Wyatt pulled himself to a sitting position, then hauled himself up off the couch and trudged into the kitchen. He flipped on the light, wincing at the harsh brightness before turning to glare into the box. Stupid cat just stared right back and meowed at him defiantly.

"Would you shut up? People are trying to sleep here," he informed it. "Pretty sure they still needed sleep even in 1834, so that shouldn't be news to you."

The little bastard had the nerve to yowl back.

"Seriously? You're seriously gonna stare at me and do-"

"Are you seriously having a conversation with the kitten?"

Wyatt nearly jumped out of his skin, that last thing he'd expected at that moment – or any moment, really – was Lucy's soft touch on his arm as she leaned against him to peer around him at the kitten. He looked down at her, his breath involuntarily catching at the sight of her, already soft and disheveled by sleep, her small frame swimming in his too-big clothes. And he was struck by such a pang of longing that he couldn't even formulate a protest when she scooped up the kitten in one hand and led him back to the living room with the other. He sat obediently when she nudged him toward the couch. She sat too, somehow both too close and too far away from him for his liking, where she folded her legs up underneath her and settled the kitten on her lap.

Stupid thing tumbled right off her lap and wobbled the foot or so across the soft cushion to him and climbed onto his.

And he'd have plucked it right back off were it not for the fact that Lucy followed right behind the kitten and slid herself down the couch until her thigh was pressed to his, her body against his arm, so she could reach to stroke the kitten's furry little head.

Wyatt was too tired to protest the cat that was now lying in his stomach as he slouched. Plus Lucy smelled nice. And she was kind of warm and cozy up against him. And even though she was petting the stupid cat, it meant her arm was just barely brushing against his over and over to the point that he was practically hypnotized in a sleepy daze.

The next thing he knew, he was blinking awake to the dead weight of Lucy's arm on his stomach and her head on his shoulder as she slept. And despite the fact that the stupid cat was still on him too, and despite the fact that he was probably treading on dangerous ground having Lucy curled up against him, Wyatt couldn't bring himself to care. So he let his eyes slip closed again.

When he woke a second time, to find himself having migrated to horizontal, Lucy draped over his side with her head on his chest, he knew it would probably make for awkwardness later, but he still couldn't bring himself to care about that either. He'd missed it, the closeness like this with someone, with Lucy. And as he drifted back to sleep, he knew it didn't exactly make sense that he'd missed something he'd never had with her, but he still didn't care. Ok, well, maybe he cared a little that the dumb cat was still using him as a pillow, but considering Lucy was too, he didn't actually care.

The third time he woke up on the couch, sunlight was filtering in through the curtains. He was on his side, the stupid cat in a little ball against his chest, and Lucy was sitting, wide awake, behind the bend of his knees, scrolling through something on her phone.

He'd barely gotten beyond those observations when he caught the guilty look she was wearing.

"It's Memorial Day weekend," she informed him, wincing.

Wyatt winced himself, hoping she wasn't getting at any sort of patriotic military crap. He knew plenty of good people who deserved to be honored, but he himself had made it out alive, which was still a touchy subject. So he normally avoided any and all related events. But whatever she was thinking, Lucy wasn't letting on yet, so he prompted, "So?"

"All the shelters around here are closed until Tuesday," she blurted out. "And if we bring her to animal control, she could be put down, and if we bring her to a vet, that might be where they bring her, and I can't let that happen, but I know you don't want her here, so I'm just going to take her to Mason and camp out there in the locker room. Or I'll find an animal-friendly hotel, or something."

A chuckle escaped before he could stop it; he should have known it was about the damned cat. The stupid cat that was currently kneading and scratching up the couch cushion right in front of him.

And yet, as much as he didn't want said stupid cat around, he still found himself wanting Lucy around, not holed up in some hotel again. But only because he felt bad that she'd been stuck in a hotel in the first place. No other reason… "Just stay here," he offered, "until Tuesday. We can bring it to the shelter then," he finished with a shrug, hoping his excuse didn't sound as flimsy to her as he knew it was.

But she just reached for the kitten, cuddling it and clearly relieved enough about being able to watch the damned cat to notice any ulterior motives he may have had in letting them both stay.

When she informed him later that she should probably stop by her hotel to grab clothes for the next few days, he obliged by driving her over. Easy enough. He hadn't expected to have to bite back the sudden urge to tell her to just grab everything, check out of the hotel, and stay with him, cat or no cat. But he did bite it back, and most of her things remained at the hotel.

They'd headed back to his place; thankfully the stupid cat had stayed in the box and hadn't further destroyed his couch cushions.

The rest of the weekend? Without any calls from Mason Industries, there wasn't much for either of them to do, especially given that they had the freakin' kitten to watch.

Not that it made for a bad weekend, necessarily. The stupid cat got in more couch scratching while they watched a bunch of old movies to kill time on Saturday (including 'Weapon of Choice', which neither of them had watched to that point, but considering it had materialized in his DVD collection... But once they did, no, Wyatt did not enjoy the part about Bond sleeping with movie-Lucy, by the way.) 'Back to the Future' also made an appearance, leading Lucy to dub the time-travelling kitten 'Marty', even though Wyatt had pointed out that she kept calling it a girl. Short for 'Martina', she'd declared.

Lucy took the dumb cat into the bedroom with her that night; Wyatt told himself he didn't mind being alone on the couch.

But he didn't sleep well, so that, coupled with it having been an overly lazy Saturday, had Wyatt slipping out of the apartment early on Sunday to head to the gym and work off a little excess energy. And when he returned, the sight of Lucy on his couch, reading a book and absently petting the little kitten, it was all he could do to not slide onto the couch and rest his head in her lap for a post-workout snooze while she read. But he didn't, and blew right past both of them into the bathroom for a colder shower than he might have taken otherwise, trying all the while to ignore the presence of Lucy's purple shower puff thing and the scent of her fruity shampoo that lingered. When he realized later that he was overdue for clean clothes and had to do some laundry, she asked him to throw in a pair of her jeans that had gotten smeared with cat food and he tried not to smile at the sight of her tiny skinny jeans swishing around, mixed in with his. Hers were from Gap too.

They left the kitten in the box again later when she dragged him to the grocery store after chastising him for the dearth of real food in his kitchen. And if he set the timer wrong and burned the first batch of cookies they tried to make later, he blamed the stupid cat for being distracting and running around between his feet. It certainly wasn't the fact that Lucy looked particularly at home sitting on his kitchen counter, flour streaked across her cheek and into her hair, as she snuck chocolate chips from the dough still in the bowl.

At least the damned cat seemed to be warming up to Lucy, allowing her to hold it without clambering its way over to his lap while they watched TV again that night. And, after all, it meant his lap was free for her to lay her head in and doze when the Giants game he wanted to watch went into extra innings. As much as he'd have liked a repeat of them sleeping on the couch together, he told himself he was doing the right thing when he carried her down the hall to his bed an hour and a half later. The cat stayed with her; Wyatt went back to the couch again.

Memorial Day itself brought last-minute free tickets to the actual Giants game from Jiya's father. Lucy was reluctant to leave Marty for so long, and though he was excited for the game, Wyatt wasn't thrilled at the prospect of what his couch would probably look like once they got back either. But Lucy wore the jeans he'd washed for her and the expression on her face as she watched the post-game fireworks, that child-like wonder at the colors reflecting in her eyes, was enough to make Wyatt's chest ache with what-ifs.

He didn't protest when they got back to his place late that night and Lucy, not even bothering to get changed as she (and the damned cat) fell into his bed, mumbled that he didn't need to sleep on the couch again.

But as Tuesday dawned cloudy, Lucy was no longer there in the bed with him. Nor was the stupid kitten.

He found them both in the living room, Lucy already dressed and sitting on the floor, halfheartedly playing with the cat. She didn't look up when she addressed him, "Let's just get this over with."

So Wyatt got dressed, they bundled the kitten into his car, and he googled an address, letting his phone's GPS direct them.

To say that Lucy was confused when they pulled up at a veterinarian's office ten minutes away would have been an understatement. "Wh-" she stammered, looking over at him bewildered, "We don't have to get her checked out, the shelter will do that, right?"

Wyatt just sighed, nodding down to the kitten on Lucy's lap. "I'll keep her until you get an apartment."

Her expression, once his words sank in, was already some combination of shocked and grateful, but once they were out of the car, she further thanked him by launching herself (and the stupid cat) into his arms, with a muffled "Thank you" pressed against his shoulder. It didn't give him goosebumps or anything. Nor did the sound of Lucy giving his address as her (and the damned cat's) address to the vet's secretary when she realized she technically didn't have her own address to give at the moment. Nope, no goosebumps at all.

The kitten checked out as healthy, or at least seemingly healthy given that they couldn't exactly ask if there were any lingering repercussions of a nearly 200-year jump through time. And it was a girl; Lucy shot him a triumphant grin at having been right.

Lucy also insisted they stop at PetSmart on the way back to his place, and as silly as Wyatt thought half the things she'd tossed into the cart were, he still pushed away her hand when she reached for her wallet, sliding his own credit card to the cashier instead.

Now, Wyatt wasn't particularly thrilled about having the cat around, but making Lucy happy by keeping it had been the only thing on his mind when he'd programmed the GPS that morning.

Had he put even a modicum of thought into the plan before that, he'd have realized that it would backfire spectacularly.

For, after sticking around to get the kitten settled in with its new bed, litter box, and toys, Lucy informed him that now that the arrangement was longer-term than just a holiday weekend, she should probably get out of his hair and go back to her hotel. She'd visit Marty, but now that she was a cat owner, she should probably work on finding a place that she could have said cat live with her.

And then she was gone.

The cat was not.

He'd been too chicken to tell her to stay. Then again, what was the point when she was looking for her own new apartment anyway?

He flicked on the TV, more for some sort of background distraction than anything else, and the stupid cat climbed up on his lap again. In spite of himself, he scratched her little head. She just butted him in the stomach, letting out a pathetic little yowl.

"Yeah, I know," Wyatt sighed, "you miss your new mom." He squeezed his eyes shut, reluctantly voicing to the kitten what he could barely admit to himself, "I miss her too."

When he went to bed that night, the cat went with him. His pillow smelled like Lucy.

The next couple of days were marked by missions; Lucy stopped by briefly after each to say hi to the cat, but she always excused herself before long, blaming fatigue after the missions. Wyatt still couldn't form the words to ask her to stay. Somehow the whole thing had ended up with him seeing a lot more of the cat he'd never wanted in the first place, and a whole lot less of Lucy.

When Agent Christopher asked Lucy after yet another mission how her apartment search was going considering the mounting hotel bill that Homeland Security was footing, Lucy gave a sheepish shrug, mumbling something about being on it.

A couple of days later, when they'd returned after another mission, Wyatt found Lucy waiting for him outside the locker room after he'd changed. She asked about the cat and how she was doing, but it was clear she was just stalling until she finally blurted out that she'd found a few possible apartments, and would he possibly be willing to come with her to give a second opinion? He said yes, though even as he agreed, he was already hating the thought of her (and her damned cat) living on their own somewhere.

It wasn't any better when they went to the apartments together the next day, having to hear Lucy emphatically explain no less than four times that no, the small closets wouldn't be an issue because the place was just for her, that they weren't a couple. By the time they'd exhausted Lucy's list of places, she'd ended up less than enthusiastic about the endless stream of subpar apartments; he'd ended up less than enthusiastic at having their non-couple status unequivocally confirmed to any realtor or rental agent that would listen.

Back in his car, they were both quiet until she begrudgingly admitted that maybe the second one they'd seen wasn't that bad?

Except Wyatt knew it was that bad.

He didn't respond, remaining quiet as an idea took root in the back of his mind. It was crazy – insane, really – but maybe…

"There's one more place," he stated, not looking at her as he threw the car into gear before he could change his mind. With the way he'd been stalling, if he didn't do it now, he was afraid he'd never do it.

Of course, Lucy was Lucy, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that she immediately flipped to her list of places and all the notes she'd take on each. "Didn't we see all of them?" she mumbled, confused.

Wyatt stayed quiet, concentrating on the road until he rolled to a stop in his normal parking spot at home and turned off the car. Without explaining, he climbed out of his seat, closed the door behind him and eyed the building.

After a moment, Lucy got out of the car, finally speaking as she rounded the hood to where he stood, and the utter bewilderment was more than evident in her voice. "…I thought you said your landlord didn't have any openings."

Wyatt looked down at his hands. "He doesn't," he confirmed.

"But, I…" Lucy trailed off, obviously having no idea what was going on.

So Wyatt finally lifted his head up, looking her in the eyes as he took a deep breath. "My place has big closets."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth moved ever so slightly, but no words came out.

"Stay with me," Wyatt insisted softly, all the while hoping this didn't all blow up in his face.

She remained quiet, her gaze curious as she studied him. "You don't have space for a roommate," she observed after a moment.

He couldn't help but give a weak smile at her wording. "Not looking for a roommate," he clarified, dipping his chin and scratching at the back of his neck.

"Ok."

Wyatt jerked his head up, not really believing what he'd heard, or at least sure that she'd misunderstood.

But she was wearing a wide grin, was already inching closer to him, and god, he hoped that it meant she was on the same page as him because he was reaching for her and he was going to kiss her and he couldn't stop himself if he tried.

He needn't have worried; Lucy's hands slid up to cradle his face just as seamlessly as his slipped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and when their lips finally – finally – met, it was her tongue that teased at him, coaxing him into deepening the kiss almost immediately, and it's not like he was ever going to deny her that. (Not that he figured he'd ever be able to deny her anything; he'd already gotten her a cat, and they hadn't even been together. And he hated cats.)

They stayed there, lost in each other, touching, tasting, exploring until the need for air finally won out. Wyatt pulled back, practically panting, but staying close enough to rest his forehead on Lucy's, his eyes closed as he took it all in. And when he finally opened his eyes again, Lucy's lips were still shiny and swollen and all he wanted to do was dive in for another kiss.

But Lucy leaned back in his arms before he could, a playfully skeptical expression on her face. "You know this means you're stuck with Marty too," she warned. "We're kind of a package deal now."

Wyatt smirked, gamely playing along, "Maybe I wanted her to stay, and since you come with her, you're the one I'm stuck with."

But the soft circles his thumb was making on the skin of her hip where he'd snuck a hand up under her shirt belied his words, and Lucy just snorted in response, "Right."

He grinned back, and Lucy rolled her eyes but still leaned into press another kiss to his lips. It was still a few minutes before they parted again, but when they did, Wyatt laced his fingers through hers and guided her up to the apartment and the little kitten inside it.

A few hours later, Lucy had checked out of the hotel, and all her clothes were comfortably put away in his (now their) roomy closets.

Wyatt still hated cats, but he had to admit he had a giant soft spot for Marty. After all, she'd helped give him the kick in the ass to finally do something about his feelings for Lucy.

He didn't even call her stupid anymore. (Unless she'd just hacked up a hairball on the couch. Then he did.)

~FIN~

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