"A kitten!"
Dan winced. Jones' voice was so high pitched that Dan worried, for a second, that Jones had finally produced a noise that his ears couldn't endure. He tried not to laugh directly in his lover's face but it was a struggle when he was squirming and grinning like, well, like a kid at Christmas. He had seen Jones excited over a great many things in their time together but his face as he held up the tiny, grey, fluffy ball of feline was on a par with the face he'd made when he actually got the gig at H8NUPX. He was practically bouncing on the couch and his smile was so broad Dan worried that he might hurt himself.
"Do you like her?" he asked quietly, hoping that if he used a low, calm voice he'd be able to keep Jones from becoming too hyperactive.
It'd worked in the past and the last thing they needed was for Jones to get too excited and scare his brand new kitten. And then crash out before Christmas day was even half done. Once upon a time Jones' body could run on it's nerves, fueled by excitement, caffeine, fear and Jones' own brand of joie de vivre. But these days he had a tendency to crash without much warning, and he needed more sleep than he liked. He still struggled with the insomnia at times, if anything it was worse than before, but he wasn't able to simply stay up at his decks for days straight. His brain still refused to switch off but now his body was fighting back. Jones called it getting old but Dan liked to think of it more as settling down - or sanity.
Watching Jones making doting, doe eyed faces at his Christmas kitten Dan didn't think anyone could accuse Jones of getting old. The fact that he was also sporting a blossoming, purple love bite on his neck from that morning's activities, or his Christmas Present, as Jones had called it, only added to the general impression that Jones was barely beyond his teens.
Dan wasn't great with kids but he knew a whole lot about how to stop Jones from flipping from over-excited to all-out panic attack.
"What are you going to name her?" he asked, kneeling by the sofa so that he could look up into Jones' face.
"Dunno," Jones said dreamily, staring into the kitten's eyes before blinking rapidly and looking down at Dan. "Is this real?"
"What?" Dan blinked back. "Of course it's real. What d'you mean?"
"Have you gone soft?" Jones asked in a deeper voice, fighting to make his expressive features settle into a serious expression that just made Dan want to kiss him, again.
"No."
"But, Dan," Jones urged. "A kitten. You hate cats. We argued about this for weeks, like, five years ago, I don't... Wait," Jones grinned, looking like a pixie up to no good. "Does this mean I win the argument?"
"Win what?" Dan asked, his own grin peaking through as he remembered what Jones was referring too.
"Like you don't know. 'We're not getting some stinking cat and that's final! It's not genius, it's bloody stupid, argument over!' Don't play dumb now, Mr Ashcroft, you said no cat," Jones said with delight, back to bouncing in his seat. "You said argument over. Now suddenly we've got a kitten. So, I win! Genius!"
Dan just chuckled through his nose and let it slide. Five years ago neither of them would have been considered responsible enough to look after a pet. They could barely look after each other back then - they'd lived on sex, pot noodle, coffee and cigarettes. Which had been nice. Dan was the first to admit it had a slummy charm to it, but things had changed and now he felt that they were ready for a commitment of this magnitude. He told Jones as much but instead of a cheeky grin he watched the smile slide off Jones' face so fast he almost held out his hand to catch it.
"What's wrong?"
"This ain't..." Jones looked warily from the kitten now snuggled against his chest to Dan and back again and Dan felt a knot of anxiety form in the centre of his chest at the shadow that had fallen across the younger man's face.
"What?" he nudged gently.
"It's not like... a test is it?" Jones whispered. "Or training or nothing? Cos I like being your, like, lover and partner and shit, Dan, but..." Dan watched as Jones searched frantically in the air in front of him for the right words, his lips parted and his brow creased. "I... I like being out and all. I love being with you, but... I don't want us to turn into one of those clean cut, respectable 'homosexual couples' that wear matching pink ties to dinner parties and have a cat in the house and dog out the back and..." Jones bit his lip and Dan could see how hard it was for him to say something that he worried would hurt Dan's feelings. His final words came out so softly, fragile as bath bubbles, that Dan had to lean in to hear. "I don't want to adopt someone's baby and play at happy families is all. I'm sorry."
Dan watched as two tears fell from Jones' eyes, racing their way toward his freshly shaved jaw, speeding up when Jones tucked his chin into his chest to avoid having to look at Dan, as if he might actually in trouble.
"Jones," Dan said quietly, reaching out to run his hand through the freshly washed mane of blue and black. "Jonesy, sweetheart, look at me."
He kept up the soft encouragement, speaking in a a near monotone so that Jones wouldn't get spooked or read too much into his tone, petting Jones like he was the cat until Jones finally looked up, bottom lip caught in his teeth and eyes red and watery.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Dan told him. He said at least once a day and tried to make sure he never sounded exasperated or angry when he said it. He went through phases of saying sorry a lot as well, and knew how crushing it felt to be sighed at for apologising, how it always made him feel even worse and more unworthy. So he leaned forward and kissed Jones' forehead instead.
"Sorry," Jones uttered but Dan shook his head.
"Jones, look at me. This is important," Dan said, locking eyes with Jones before he continued. "I really, really don't like kids," he said slowly. "And I really, really don't want to be one of those socially acceptable two man couples who look more like business associates than boyfriends, or even friends. I don't ever want to wear a tie if I don't have to, let alone a matching one. I wouldn't mind, one day... making things... even more official, if we can, but... this is in no way a test of your suitability as a long term prospect, Jones. I made up my mind about you years ago. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."
Watching the laughter burst out of Jones amidst his tears was one of the most bittersweet things Dan had seen, and it broke his heart whenever it happened, regardless of the reason, and this time his heart ached more than ever. Jones' face was a picture of relief and Dan wanted to make sure he was completely settled and at ease before he left him to start on the main event of making the Christmas lunch (which he probably would have started an hour ago if he hadn't been otherwise engaged).
"I bought you that kitten, well, adopted her, because I love to see you smile. I love to see you happy, and I know that whenever you see a cat you stop and pat it and it makes you smile and you bounce a bit when you walk for the rest of the day, just because you got to pat a cat... And because I knew you'd get a kick out of winning a five year old argument, you competitive little tart."
"Sore loser," Jones teased, laughing quietly and wiping at his eyes.
"And," Dan said, catching Jones' eyes again with his own and trying not to grin too foolishly. "She was living at the vet's, they had a sign up asking for someone to adopt her. She's only five months old but she's house trained, apparently. But no one wanted her."
Jones face crumbled again and he held the kitten close to his chest while his eyes stared, wide and glassy, at Dan.
"But why?"
"Well," Dan said slowly, chewing his lip to stop himself from laughing too soon. "It turns out... she's stone deaf."
Jones' cackle was so loud that if the kitten could hear she would have been off through the house like a shot. Instead, as Jones threw his head back and laughed, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes, the little ball of fur snuggled itself deeper into his arms. Dan laughed too, grinning at Jones and that he was finally allowed to share the secret. A kitten that Jones could love but that wouldn't be frightened of the music and noise he made had seemed too good to be true and he'd paid for the kitten within minutes of seeing the sign, despite his mother's voice, on the other end of the phone, telling him to weigh up the pros and cons of getting a pet before he committed to it. He knew that Jones would get a kick out of being a DJ with a deaf cat but more than that, he knew that for Jones, caring for and giving a home to the kitten that no one else wanted because it wasn't quite perfect, that would be even more important.
"Oh, she's beautiful," Jones whispered when he'd laughed himself out. "Thank you, Dan. You're the best."
"I know," he said with a smirk, and Jones snorted and rolled his eyes. "But now I have to try and cook that chicken and at least four different kinds of vegetable so that they're at least edible. So I'll leave you two to get acquainted shall I?"
Jones nodded and angled his face forward for Dan to kiss, which he did, pressing and nibbling Jones' lips with his own until Jones was red cheeked and breathless.
"Your Christmas present was better than mine," he said a little sulkily, "I never know what to get you," but Dan just snorted and kissed along Jones' jaw to his neck, catching the flesh between his teeth and swirling his tongue over it before sucking hard enough to leave another, deep love bite and to cause Jones to gasp and squirm.
"Oh, I don't know," he growled into Jones' ear, enjoying the way Jones was so quickly reduced to a shaking, needy mess, and by the fact that Dan was allowed to touch him like this at all.
They kissed lazily for a few more minutes before Dan pulled away and hauled himself to his feet, wishing that he'd never learned to cook so that he didn't have to spend the next hour or so in the kitchen, but when he reached the doorway from the sitting room to the kitchen he looked back and smiled.
The room was ridiculously overdecorated in a cacophony of brightly coloured wool and Jones was lying in the middle of it - odd socks, black jeans, leg brace, and some sort of poncho that he'd made himself which looked like it'd been vomited up by a rainbow - on his back on the creaking sofa, cuddling his new kitten and humming, seemingly in time to the rhythm of the rain on the roof. Dan couldn't imagine a more perfect scene.
And then Jones looked up at him and gave him a smile so full of affection that Dan felt himself actually begin to blush.
" 'm gonna call her Stardust," he said matter-of-factly and Dan stared at the tiny, grey cat and nodded.
"Wonderful," he murmured then turned back toward the kitchen and the task of preparing his first Christmas lunch.