[Location: The Spencer Residence, Westview]
[Perspective: Aryan Spencer]
Crumbs.
"You are getting pastry everywhere," I noted, watching Wanda brush a flake of croissant off her chin.
"It is flaky," she defended, licking chocolate off her thumb. "It is the nature of the pastry."
We were sitting on the edge of the bed (our bed) surrounded by the ruins of the snacks I had brought up.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound came from downstairs.
We both froze.
It was a physical knock not the door bell.
"Another neighbor?" Wanda whispered, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Did we forget an appointment?"
"No," I said, frowning. "And neighbors ring the bell. Dottie rings it twice. Sarah rings it once. This is... manual."
I stood up.
"Stay here," I said, putting on my 'Protector' face. "I'll investigate."
Wanda stood up too. "I am coming with you."
"Wanda, it's probably a package."
"Or a threat," she countered, grabbing my hand.
I looked at her. She looked fierce and adorable.
"Fine," I said. "But if it's a package, I get to open it."
I scooped her up.
"Aryan!" she yelped, laughing as her feet left the floor. "I can walk!"
"Stealth mode," I whispered. "If we float, they can't hear our footsteps."
"You are not floating," she pointed out, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You are walking. Loudly."
"Details," I dismissed.
I carried her down the stairs.
"Are you sure you are not going to carry me to the door?" she teased near my ear.
"If you want," I grinned. "I can open it with my foot. It's a very impressive move."
"Please do not," she laughed. "Put me down."
I set her down in the hallway. We walked to the door together.
I looked through the peephole.
Nothing. Just the empty porch.
"Nobody," I said.
Knock. Knock.
It came again.
I looked at Wanda. She shrugged.
I unlocked the door and opened it slowly.
The porch was empty.
We looked down.
There, sitting on the welcome mat, was a cat.
It was a battle hardened veteran of the streets. It was black, with a white patch over one eye that made it look like a pirate. It was missing half an ear.
It looked up at us. It stared with judging eyes.
"Oh," Wanda said, her voice softening instantly. "We have a guest."
"We have an intruder," I corrected, eyeing the beast.
The cat stepped forward. It sniffed my shoe. It sneezed on my shoe.
"Rude," I said.
"It is hungry," Wanda decided, bending down. She reached out a hand.
"Careful," I warned. "That thing looks like it knows karate."
The cat sniffed Wanda's hand. Then, surprisingly, it butted its head against her palm.
"See?" Wanda smiled, stroking its scarred head. "He is friendly."
"He's manipulating you," I argued. "I know a con-artist when I see one."
"He has no collar," Wanda observed, checking the cat's neck. "No name."
"His name is probably 'Trouble'," I said. "Or 'Tax Fraud'."
"He needs food," Wanda stated, standing up. "I will get something."
She turned and headed for the kitchen.
I looked down at the cat. The cat looked up at me.
We locked eyes.
"Listen here, fuzzball," I whispered, leaning down. "I see your game. You think you can just waltz in here and charm the lady of the house? I'm the charm guy. That's my job."
The cat blinked slowly.
"Be nice," I warned, pointing a finger at it. "If you scratch the furniture, or her, I will erase you from the timeline. I will turn you into a hamster. Do you understand?"
The cat yawned, showing sharp teeth.
"I'll take that as a yes," I muttered.
"Aryan!" Wanda called from the kitchen. "Bring him to the garden! Do not let him in the house yet!"
"You heard the lady," I said to the cat.
I reached down and picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy. It went limp in my hands like a sack of potatoes.
I walked it through the living room and out the sliding glass door to the patio.
I set it down on the grass.
Wanda appeared a moment later holding a saucer.
"I found some of the chicken," she said. "From the piccata. I washed the sauce off."
She placed the saucer on the grass.
The cat dove in, eating with a ferocity that suggested it hadn't seen a meal in days.
Wanda stood next to me, watching it eat. She leaned her head on my shoulder.
"He was starving," she said softly.
"Yeah," I admitted, putting my arm around her. "He was."
We watched the cat finish the chicken and then sit back, grooming its paw with a satisfied air.
"Can we keep him?" Wanda asked.
"Wanda," I sighed. "It's a stray. It probably has fleas. And an attitude problem."
"We can fix the fleas," she said. "And you have an attitude problem too and I still love you."
I choked on a laugh. "Wow. Okay. I love you too, you beautiful menace."
She looked up at me, grinning. "Please? He fits the house. He is... damaged. Like us."
"Fine," I relented. "But he sleeps in the garage until he gets a flea bath. And if he eats Sir Drinks a Lot, he's evicted."
"Deal," she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
"I'm too easy," I muttered.
I bent down and scooped Wanda up again.
"What are you doing?" she laughed.
"Transport," I said. "The cat is fed. Now the humans need to return to the sofa."
"You are getting used to lifting me," she noted, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?" I asked, walking back into the house. "It's in the job description. 'Heavy lifting and emotional support'."
"You are good at your job," she whispered.
We settled back onto the sofa. Wanda was in my lap again, because apparently, that was the new seating arrangement.
She was tracing the line of my collarbone with her finger.
"Aryan?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think..." she paused, looking around the living room. "Do you think something is lacking?"
"Lacking?" I looked around. "We have furniture. We have books. We have a cat in the backyard. And we have enough pasta to feed an army. What's missing?"
"The walls," she said. "They are... bare."
I looked at the walls. She was right. There was art… abstract stuff that came with the staging but nothing personal.
PS: This is the second bonus chapter for this week, and sadly we've only unlocked two so far. Usually we get four or five… what happened, guys? Come on, show some power and drop those Power Stones, haha.