Chapter One - The Cat Carrier
"Geez, Courf, why'd you have to drag me out? I hadn't even started my second bottle!" Grantaire complained as his companion continued to drag him away from the cafe they frequented with their friends.
"Because you said you'd 'try' to give up drinking for lent, and guess what, I'm gonna try and keep you to it!" Courfeyrac turned his head back to Grantaire slightly, just enough so his friend could catch a glimpse of his cheeky grin.
Grantaire gave a half-assed glare at the brunet before breaking out into a grin himself, "You're going to make me regret that as much as you can aren't you?".
Courfeyrac beamed back at the nest of black hair, "Yep!"
The duo continued their walk back to apartment complex where they and the gang had pretty much rent out entirely, with only a few extra rooms spare (no one wanting them due to how rowdy the boys tended to be on weekends).
Just before they turned the last corner that lead to a 200m strip of concrete between the various apartment buildings, the pair heard a faint… squeaking noise?
The two looked at each other in confusion, Grantaire just a few seconds short of shrugging before the noise was repeated.
Alright. Definitely not squeaking, that was a-
"Meow?" Courfeyrac said aloud, turning around trying to find it's source.
The mewing came again, this time Courf was ready, quickly taking mouse steps towards the noise, not wanting to scare away the possible strays.
After 5 minutes of Courfeyrac looking high and low (literally) for the cats - Grantaire following him to make sure he didn't get himself into trouble whilst doing so (it had nothing to do with the possible future blackmailing references he collected, no, not at all) they finally came across the source - a small pet carrier with one grubby white paw sticking out, claws extended - probably searching for food.
Whilst Grantaire's eyes merely widened at the sight, Courfeyrac couldn't help but rush towards the carrier to peer inside, only able to catch a glimpse of the contents before being hissed and batted at from the same grubby paw hunting for food.
"You know better than I do that that was a stupi-"
"We're taking them in."
"You can't keep i- wait, what d'you mean them?"
"There's two of them Grantaire," the brunet looked up at his long-time friend, "And they aren't in a good way either."
Grantaire looked at Courfeyrac sternly before sighing, getting down onto his knees and peering inside the carrier for himself.
'Aren't in a good way' was an understatement.
The one that still had it's paw sticking out of the carriers metal meshing was probably a white and cream tortie - it was hard to tell from all of the dirt it was caked it, whilst the one behind it was some-what cleaner, it's cream and ginger hues coming through clearly through what little mud it was painted with, but dirt wasn't their only problem - they were both dangerously thin.
It was clear that the one trying to claw his and Courf's faces off was trying it's best to keep it's companion alive, as it'd been mewing for quite some time now whilst the clean - and considerably smaller - of the two had been silent, the only visible signs of it's life was it's small weak breaths causing the barely visible rise and fall of it's chest.
…
God fucking damn it.
"Alright, fine, let's get them inside and something in their stomachs fast, before Mr Grubby Paws over there decides that our faces are the tasty thing on the planet."