Santana Lopez is not what you would call a "pet person".
Her experience with pets involved a goldfish when she was five, who didn't last till the end of the month, a pregnant hamster that gave birth, ate it's young and promptly died a few days later when she was eight and the neighbour's pitbull, who had a habit of standing with it's head over the fence and barking loudly as it jumped up and down, terrifying her every time she walked home from the bus stop.
There was also her cousin's cat, who managed to scratch up her furniture the weekend she agreed to cat-sit and the parrot her ex-girlfriend had that flew out of its cage and pooped on her favorite leather jacket, so yeah.
Santana didn't hate animals, but she did prefer that she not be in close proximity with them for extended periods of time. She much preferred the pictures of puppies and kittens that circulated on Instagram than actually having to be near one. It was perfect, all cute and no responsibility.
Which is why she almost strangled Quinn when her best friend informed her she was going to be leaving her cat in Santana's care for the foreseeable future.
"What do you mean your cat is going to be staying with me?"
"I'm being seconded to our London office," Quinn informs her. "They said six months, but it could be up to a year. I can't take Charlie with me."
"Why can't you leave him with someone else?"
"Sam and Kurt's buildings don't allow pets."
"What about Mercedes?"
"Mercedes is going on tour in a few weeks, she can't bring him."
"Yes, she can. It'll be like part of her act."
"Santana…"
"Leave him with your mom, then!"
"Santana, I'm not flying to Lima to drop him off at my mom's, when you're perfectly capable of taking care of Charlie."
"Look Q," Santana retorted. "If I wanted to take care of a cat, I would buy a cat. But I don't want one, so Charlie will just have to find somewhere else to stay."
"Come on."
"What happens if I bring a girl over? I can't just have this cat getting all up in my business while I'm trying to get my mack on!"
"He's a cat, not a child!"
"I don't have the space."
"You live in a two bedroom apartment! You have a room for your shoes!"
"Okay, first of all, it's one and a half bedrooms!" That was true, the real-estate agent had advertised it that way, which was perfect for Santana since a "half bedroom" provided a perfect excuse to never have houseguests. "And second, it's full, so there's nowhere for him to stay."
"He doesn't need his own room," Quinn rolled her eyes. "Your place is more than big enough."
"What about someone from your office? How about Ken doll? Or what's-her-face with the ugly shoes? It won't matter if he pees in them," Santana rattles off names.
"Santana, please don't make this difficult," Quinn sighed as Santana crossed her arms over her chest, indignantly. "Don't make me call it in," she says, almost warningly.
Santana narrows her eyes. "You wouldn't."
What Quinn was referring to was the favor that Santana agreed to let her call in, one time only, no questions asked.
Over the years, Santana had gotten pretty good at letting one-night-stands know that that was exactly what it was , a one night stand. It saved a lot of confusion and hurt and awkward conversations in the morning, but once in a while, even the best could slip up.
It was a few months ago when the morning after, it became obvious that Santana's latest one-night-stand intended for their relationship to become...well, a relationship, and Santana informing her that it wasn't going to become one didn't work either.
It became painfully clear to Santana that she'd taken home a crazy person and she called Quinn, who was on her way to a big meeting. Santana had pleaded with her that it would only take five minutes and that she'd owe her huge so her friend complied.
Fifteen minutes later, Quinn showed up at Santana's apartment to play the scorned girlfriend. She went on, screaming and crying about how Santana could do this to her after they were together for five years, how awful she was for cheating (on their anniversary no less) and even threw in an "I should have listened to my mother about you!" for good measure.
She really sold it. Santana was convinced Quinn was going to slap her across the face, when she heard the front door click shut behind her and Quinn turn off the waterworks.
"There, she's gone. Now move, I need to touch up my makeup before I go to my meeting," Quinn replied nonchalantly, strolling past Santana and into the bathroom.
Quinn was only five minutes late to her meeting, but Santana had to keep her promise and officially owed Quinn one favour that she was allowed to call in at any time.
Apparently, this was it.
"You're calling in the favour over your cat?"
"Apparently, I have to," Quinn rolled her eyes and let out a sigh, before the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Which means that you really can't say no."
Santana really wanted to slap that stupid smirk off her best friend's face. But alas, a deal was a deal and she'd sealed her fate on that morning many months ago when she took home that crazy (though admittedly hot) girl who really took that U-haul stereotype to heart.
Live and learn, she figured.
And that was how Santana Lopez ended up as guardian to the calico, Charlie.
"I expect him to be in the same condition when I come back," Quinn warned her, on the day he was dropped off before his human departed for London.
"No promises, Q," Santana rolled her eyes.
"I'll call to check in."
"I'm an adult, I'll be fine without you."
"I meant on him."
"When did you turn into a crazy cat lady?" Santana cracked.
Quinn's little goodbye with her cat stretched out to twenty minutes, not including the two- hour-long orientation she gave Santana about vet appointments, shots, food, litter boxes, his pet carrier and everything in between.
When the front food shut, signalling Quinn's exit, Santana looked down at Charlie, who in turn just stared up at her and meowed.
"Ok listen, we need to get one thing clear, now that your crazy mom isn't here to save you," Santana dropped down so she was closer to eye-level with the cat. "I'll do all the vet appointments and the cat food and even emptying out your nasty-ass litter-box, but if you ever pee in one of my shoes, you are done here," she said in a low growl.
Charlie meowed again and licked his paw. Santana decided to take that as an understanding.
Charlie is actually not bad. Santana won't go as far as to say she enjoys having him around, but she doesn't hate it.
He walked around the apartment like he owned the place and climbed up on the furniture, but all things considered he was pretty good. He went in his litter box and knew his feeding routine.
During the first week, Santana came home from work to find the legs of her coffee table totally scratched up. She brought out the eyesore that was his bright blue scratching post on full display in her living room so that he could use it instead, but Quinn informed her that Charlie was probably just getting antsy from being alone in the apartment all week.
Santana installed a kitty door so that he'd be free to roam about the apartment complex during the day and come home when he needed and leave her damn stuff alone. Since then, he seemed calmer when he was indoors and would take to lying on the couch next to her when she was watching TV.
So yeah. Santana figured having Charlie around wasn't the worst thing in the world.
She could, however, do without Quinn's constant need for updates on her cat. Based on her social media posts, Quinn was having the time of her life in London, meeting new people and going to new places.
However, based on her messages to Santana - it seemed less like she was a socially active woman in her twenties living it up, and more like she was a fifty year old cat-mom missing her cat-child, with nothing else to do.
[Quinn]: Did you feed him today?
[Quinn]: He likes the chicken flavour.
[Quinn]: Is he getting enough exercise?
[Quinn]: Can you send me pics of him?
[Quinn]: You're giving him baths regularly, right Satan?
[Quinn]: If anything seems wrong TAKE HIM TO THE VET
[Quinn]: How is he today?
Santana got so tired of the messages that eventually she started trolling Quinn so that the blonde would leave her alone.
[Santana]: Congrats, grandma! Charlie knocked up the neighbour's cat. You have nine of them to come home to!
[Santana]: Cats can drink scotch right? Cause I accidentally poured the wrong thing into his bowl.
[Santana]: Charlie's a persian right? Cause that's who's sitting on my couch rn.
Santana had settled into routine with her new roommate. It wasn't like she had to walk the cat or anything, so she made sure that there was food in his bowl before she left for work and he was usually home by the time she got back anyway.
In between she guessed that he was wandering the neighbourhood looking for mice or whatever it is that cats do. Whatever, he didn't touch her shoes and her furniture and frankly that was the best she could hope for.
Work on the other hand, left much to be desired.
Santana was the youngest person in management at one of the most promising new marketing and PR agencies in Los Angeles. She'd been there since interning in her senior year of college and knew the ins and outs of the business better than almost anyone. She was sharp, effective and knew how to get things done. It also meant that she spent too much time at the office.
You know what they say, if you need something done, give it to the busiest person at the office.
"Miss Lopez," her assistant, Marley, stepped into the door of her office. "The Mucusin people are here."
Mucusin was a new over-the-counter cold medicine soon to be released in stores. Santana had advised them to change the name, but they were pretty adamant about keeping it so it seemed like she was going to have her work cut out for her.
"Send them in."
So it turned out the Mucusin people were not only married to the name, but to the idea of keeping the packaging green.
Santana had to fight an eyeroll when she gave that directive to the design team to come up with a few samples incorporating that particular shade of green.
When she finally got home, she spotted Charlie, sitting on the arm of the couch, waiting for her and meowing expectantly.
"Yeah, yeah, you'll get your food," she grumbled, putting her things down, opening a can of Cat Chow and emptying it into his bowl.
Once she'd fulfilled her obligation, she ordered some food for herself on her phone and headed into the shower, wishing to wash all the stress of the day off before her dinner arrived.
She eats in front of the TV, when she notices that Charlie barely touches his food. Santana squints at him. He looked... different, something was off.
She gets distracted when Real Housewives comes on.
It's probably nothing.
Santana makes a hundred cat-lady jokes at Quinn's expense before complying when Quinn asks Santana to help her face-time Charlie.
"Oh my God, Santana!"
"What?"
"Why's he so fat? What have you been feeding him?"
"I just feed him the stuff you told me to buy, it's not cheap by the way, Q," she flips the camera back around so that Quinn's facing her and not the cat. "I don't even know what the big deal is, he looks-"
Santana's about to say fine when she gets a good look at the cat for the first time in weeks. That stupid Mucusin campaign's been taking up all her attention, that she didn't even notice. Charlie's gotten fat.
"I told you, you better return him in the same condition you got him!" Quinn chastises.
"Well, I'm not returning him yet," Santana huffs. "And I didn't take you for a fat-shamer, Lucy Caboosey."
Quinn scowls at that remark. "Seriously, calicos are supposed to weigh like 7 or 8 pounds. How much does he weigh?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? He was supposed to have a vet appointment last week!"
"Yeah but I didn't finish that Mucusin campaign until yesterday. I thought it would be fine to delay it by a week."
"Satan, I swear to God-"
"I'll take him!" Santana sighs exaggeratedly. "God, the way you fuss over your cat, wouldn't it be easier to just have a child?"
"Santana-"
"It'll be fine," she eyes the cat from his place by the coffee table. "He hasn't gotten that fat has he?"
"Yes!"
Santana takes Charlie to the vet and in six weeks in her care he's managed to put on five pounds. It's not a good look.
The vet recommends some diet cat food and that Charlie get some exercise. Since he's already out the whole day, Santana buys the way too expensive diet cat food and hopes that it will fix the situation.
She's not thrilled with the idea of having to spend her weekends taking the cat for a walk.
After another week, she manages to wrestle him onto the bathroom scale for long enough to see that he's not losing weight.
The mystery of the cat's weight gain finally gains traction while she's at work and her boss, Shelby pulls her into her office.
"Cheating scandal broke today," she places a file down in front of Santana.
"What are we dealing with?"
"Throat Explosion's lead singer came down with a case of mono, gave it to his girlfriend."
"So?"
"So, the day after, the bassist comes down with a case of mono too. The girlfriend's an actress, she's getting a pretty big following and the singer's taking a lot of heat. She kicked him out."
"He slept with the bassist?"
Shelby nods. "There were rumors before, but no one ever bothered to address it, they thought it would go away."
"Well it's not going to now. What do they want us to do?"
"What do you think?" Shelby raised a brow. "PR. They need damage control."
#Monogate gave Santana the breakthrough she needed. There was a third party involved. If she wasn't making changes to his diet and he was roaming about all day, there must be an external reason as to why he was gaining weight.
It's a Saturday when Santana finally decides that today will be the day she figures out who's been fattening up the cat.
She's bought him a tracking collar which synced with her phone. She checked the record previously to see that Charlie was only really exploring the apartment complex, never straying too far away from it. So she deduces it's someone else who lives in one of the apartments.
Santana knows that she has to move fast. Despite his weight gain, Charlie could still climb high and squeeze into spaces she couldn't.
When the sneaky little bastard slipped out from his kitty door, Santana quickly followed him out, tracking his steps on the app on her phone. It led her past the courtyard and into the garden patch of the complex, just by the fountain.
She waded through various potted plants, through the small pavement path in a mostly-grass covered area. A few of the plants had grown a little too tall and wound up smacking her in the face with their leaves. Santana kept glancing at her phone to make sure she was on the right track and was validated when she heard the sound of something being set down on the concrete and a pleased meow.
She scrambled through the rest of the plants and through the clearing, finding a woman, sitting on the bench and Charlie eating from a little orange cat bowl.
"Aha!" Santana exclaimed, leaping out from the garden and accusingly pointing at the cat, who didn't seem the least bit perturbed. She did however, come face to face with an amused looking woman.
Santana had expected some sad old guy who didn't have any friends and had taken to stealing the attention of the neighbour's cat but this woman was...well, gorgeous.
"Hi," the woman greeted her, seemingly unshaken by Santana's abrupt entrance.
"Hi," Santana managed to get out. "You're...you're the one who's been feeding my cat?"
"Oh is he yours?" she asks, reaching down to pet Charlie. "He likes to stop by here."
"Yeah, I mean...sort of," Santana frowns trying to explain the situation. "He's not mine, but he's in my care."
"Are you sure? Are you sure you're not a catnapper?"
Santana is partially amused but also a little offended. "Of course not! How can you accuse me of being a catnapper when you're the one feeding other people's pets?"
The woman frowns. "Feeding isn't the same as catnapping."
"So it's you? You're the one who's been fattening him up?"
"That's mean," the woman creases her forehead and pouts a little, rubbing Charlie's furry head. "I think he looks fine just as he is."
"What's he eating anyway?"
"Tuna casserole."
Santana's feelings of offense evaporate at this point and she's just confused.
"What?"
"My roommate is trying to learn to cook for her boyfriend," the woman explains. "I don't think it's very good but Cheeto seems to like it."
"Cheeto?"
She looks a little embarrassed. Santana thinks it's kind of cute. "That's not his name?"
"No, uh, his name is Charlie."
"Oh, I've been calling him Cheeto. The orange spots on his fur are kinda cheeto shaped. He doesn't seem to mind," she adds.
"No, I'm sure he doesn't."
Now sensing that Santana was out of accusation mode, the woman extended her hand.
"I'm Brittany, by the way. 1812," she gestures to the apartment behind her.
Santana shook it. "Santana. 1820"
"I like your name."
"Thanks. My mom picked it out."
Santana was horrified at the words that just left her mouth. What the hell was that? She knows how to talk to beautiful women, ok? She's just having an off day. Apparently her game had just decided to up and leave and go on vacation without telling her first.
Brittany giggles at that and scoots over a little on the bench, inviting Santana, mouth still slightly agape from her words, to take a seat next to her. She obliges and just stares down at Charlie tucking into his tuna casserole. She mostly stares down at the cat because Brittany's eyes are so very blue.
"So how long has this been going on exactly?"
"Maybe a month," Brittany shrugs. "He just started coming around and one time he looked like he was hungry so I fed him the leftover's my roommate cooked. After that he kinda started coming around a lot."
"Leftovers huh? I guess the Cat Chow I've been feeding him doesn't really compare."
"Depends on the brand you buy, but usually cats prefer people-food even if it's not always the best for them. I try to only feed him stuff that cats would normally eat, like chicken and fish. Only stuff that they'd be able to catch in the wild."
"Huh. I had no idea about any of that."
"Ok, one time I fed him steak," Brittany says, looking a little guilty.
"Wow."
"My roommate bought this 14-pack of steak from Costco and I messed up with the freezing and the defrosting and we ended up just having to cook all of them. I thought maybe he should eat some before it went bad…" she trails off. "He seemed to really like it."
Santana chuckles a little. "Lucky Charlie, I bet he's the most well-fed cat in LA."
"Even more than all those pets to the stars?"
"Oh, totally, especially since he's apparently been getting double meals."
Brittany laughs and for reasons she doesn't quite understand, Santana can hear her heart beating louder in her chest.
"Sorry, if I've been stealing him away from you," she apologizes. "I just miss having a cat around."
"You had a cat before?"
"He lives back home with my parents. My roommate's allergic so I couldn't get another one even if I wanted to. I miss him sometimes. Even if he was leaking pages of my diary on the internet."
"Oh," Santana says, obviously confused. "Sounds like kind of a jerk."
"Yeah, but he has a good heart under all his addictions and gang affiliations."
"Right."
"So is Charlie your first?" Brittany asks.
"Is it that obvious I don't know what I'm doing?" Santana laughs. "I guess so. I mean, technically he's my friend's cat but she got sent to London for a couple months for work so she asked me to take care of him."
"I think you're actually doing pretty well considering he's your first cat. They're not as easy to take care of as everyone thinks," she comments as Charlie finishes his tuna casserole and jumps up onto the bench, where Brittany can pet him.
"Thanks."
"I also think you're a good friend."
Santana feels herself starting to blush and looks down at the ground to avoid eye contact. "You just met me. There's no way you could know that."
"Yeah but you're looking after your friend's cat while she's away, even though you don't really have any experience in it and you even tracked down to see where he was going when you thought something was up. Sounds like a pretty good friend to me."
"Yeah, well…" she mumbles, not sure of how to respond. "Listen, I think um, I think I'd be cool if you wanted to still hang out with Charlie and stuff. He seems to like you and I doubt I could stop him even if I wanted to."
Brittany's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah. Maybe just go easy on the steak, though. My friend is a total helicopter cat-mom and she's not super happy with all the weight gain."
"I know an Atkins diet that might help."
"I mean, yeah, if you think-"
"Oh, thank you Santana!" with a big grin on her face, Brittany leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Santana in a big hug. The brunette was taken aback by it, clearly not expecting it, but was pleasantly surprised.
"Sorry," Brittany pulled away, looking a little embarrassed.
"No, don't be," she managed to get out. "Listen, Brittany, would it be cool if I got your number?" Santana realizes instantly what it sounds like and quickly tries to explain herself. "Since I obviously have no idea what I'm doing with this cat thing. Just, so I could like text you if I have questions about cat food brands or going to the vet or something. You know, for Charlie's sake and everything," she added quickly.
"Totally," Brittany grinned. "I'll be like your cat whisperer."
Authors Note:
I actually came up with this idea many years ago, but I didn't put pen to paper till recently. It was inspired by the fact that at a certain point my friend (and her parents) ended up feeding their neighbours cat on a regular basis and it started to get fat. This is also the first multi-chap I've written in years and the first Brittana multi-chap i've written at all. Would appreciate some feedback if you can.