A/N: This exists because Haley and I really like cats. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint, nor am I making a profit out of this (ridiculous) story.
The Fox and the Hound
"Jules," Sam Braddock drawled slowly, not taking his eyes off of the little orange kitten at his feet for a second, "what is that?"
Jules, seated comfortably on her couch, looked up from her book; her lips curled into a smirk as she watched the kitten headbutt Sam's shin.
"The love of my life," Jules deadpanned, returning to her book.
Sam had about a billion questions for her and just barely refrained from bombarding her with them and hounding her incessantly for information.
Sam's first mistake was thinking it would be yet another normal evening at Jules Callaghan's residence—if your definition of normal was canoodling behind your boss' back—despite her warning to open her front door carefully.
"Jules," Sam said, bordering on whining. He cast his gaze down onto the cat and trained his eyes on the new addition to Jules' household; with cautious steps, he walked around the kitten and strode to the couch. He sat down ungracefully and Jules pursed her lips with annoyance; the sudden movement had caused her hand—and book—to shake.
She bookmarked her page and let it fall onto her lap. Her cat chose that moment to hop onto the armrest beside her and gaze at her with wide, yellow eyes. Jules smiled and bent her head to place a light kiss on the cat's head and scratched it behind its ears.
"Hey, where's my kiss?" Sam asked with feigned irritation when really, he was just as captivated by the kitten whose ears were too big for its head—the kitten who began to purr at a ridiculous volume. Jules let her hand slide off the kitten as she turned to Sam, a devious expression on her face.
"I have a new man in my life, Sam," Jules teased in a low and throaty voice. She lifted her hand to pet her cat again; she didn't have to look at the animal to know his expectant eyes were fixed on the back of her head.
Sam lightly bumped her shoulders with him.
"Explain," Sam sternly commanded once he had her attention again, though his voice contradicted the amused sparkle in his eyes.
"What do you want to know?" she asked lightly, grinning when he glared at her.
"Everything. When did you—why—his name—everything," Sam stumbled, shooting a curious glance to the tabby cat.
Jules let the kitten tentatively crawl onto her lap, right onto the book, and watched it try to decide whether or not he wanted to be there. After a moment, he made a commitment and settled down. Jules tilted her head and bit her lip because the goddamn cat and his cuteness and warmth was giving her a sensory overload.
"A week—no, almost two weeks ago," Jules replied. Sam frowned—had it really been that long since he'd come over?
"Why didn't you tell me?" he enquired, letting his hand hang in the air in front of the cat's face. The cat inclined his head to sniff around Sam's finger, but the interest only lasted mere seconds. Sam dropped his hand on Jules' knee.
"You were preoccupied with my other cat," Jules stated primly, a sly smirk gracing her lips as her mind wandered to the past few nights she'd spent blowing off steam under Sam's covers. Sam scoffed and shook his head.
"Did you get lonely?" he teased. They had spent less time with each other than they normally did over the past couple of weeks; she rolled her eyes and shot him a look that told him to get real.
The absence made the kisses more charged and the sex more passionate, but she really didn't need him even jokingly thinking he was the centre of her whole world.
He'd been in her thoughts a lot more often; their clandestine little affair was getting harder and harder to keep hidden away from their boss, and her feelings were getting more difficult to shove down.
"I hadn't been planning on getting one, actually," Jules revealed, "I stopped by a pet store while I was at the mall to look at the kittens. I hadn't planned on being inside for more than five minutes, but this guy started walking over to me and brushing his head on the cage and meowing—and god, Sam, I wasn't kidding when I said I loved him."
Sam chuckled as Jules cooed over her cat.
"So what did you name him?" Sam asked. Jules scooped the kitten up into her arms and nuzzled its head with her cheek; the cat did not seem to be enjoying himself as much as Jules, and Jules wasn't surprised when he squirmed and jumped out of her embrace, wandering off to somewhere other than her lap.
"Fox," Jules finally answered with a pleased smile.
Sam frowned.
"Jules, that is the worst name for a cat," Sam berated. Jules swatted his hand off of her leg and stood up.
"No," she began pointedly, "the worst name for a cat is Fluffy."
Sam ran a hand over his face; Jules, content, strolled into the kitchen in search of water.
"Calling him Tiger would have made more sense," he said rather loudly from the living room.
"Of course it makes sense, Sam," Jules yelled over running tap water. After a moment, he heard the water shut off, and she returned with a glass in her hand.
"He's cunning," she explained as if it was blatantly obvious, "and he has foxy-good looks. All the lady cats want that action."
Sam blinked—and wondered just exactly when Jules had taken a leave of her senses. She finally bent over and placed a swift kiss on his lips; Jules began to back away, but he caught her arm and pulled her down onto the couch. Jules glared at him with mild irritation and drew her knees up to her chest, and sat, facing him.
"Jules, if you were using that logic, you might as well have just named him Sam."