Kravitz finds the first kitten in the rain.
He almost doesn’t notice her; she’s hiding under some wood near the barn where he and Barry have just prematurely ended a necromantic ritual, and he hears a soft hiss when he steps too close to the stack. He stops, bends down, and two of the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen on such a tiny face stare back up at him.
It’s instant love, and Kravitz knows that he can’t just leave her there. She’s so small. She looks so sad. Barry is recruited to help (reluctantly, with several appeals made about the kitten’s size and obvious unhappiness) and with a lot of coaxing and plenty of time to also get rained on, Kravitz has the tiny fuzzy creature securely in his arms.
Barry stares at the kitten. He doesn’t ask for a turn holding the her; he must sense that no appeal he could make would convince Kravitz to let go even for a few seconds. Instead he reaches out to delicately pet the tiny creature’s head, and is rewarded with a soft mew. “I thought Taako had a ‘no-pets’ policy when you guys moved in together?” Kravitz doesn’t answer, clearly indicating that there will soon be a renegotiation of the existing agreement. Barry clears his throat. “So uh, if you’re looking for a home for her, you know Lup and I would be happy to –”
“Absolutely not,” Kravitz answers, and then he’s gone in a puff of feathers and smoke.
The plan, standing on the porch before walking inside (no more poofing directly into the house after he startled Taako into upending a pot of boiling water that one time, necessitating a visit to an equally-startled Merle moments later) seems solid to Kravitz. Walk inside with the kitten under his cloak. Definitely don’t mention the kitten. Turn in early and make the kitten a warm, dry nest, probably in the closet and before Taako suspects the trickery. Somehow continue the trickery indefinitely.
Solid enough.
Taako is waiting for him when he walks inside, and Kravitz manages to deflect his boyfriend’s hug with the excuse that he’s wet. Taako frowns, but he doesn’t question Kravitz’s decision to still be wet after being rained on when he has a malleable physical form; Kravitz thinks he’s in the clear, until his cloak squeaks.
There is a frozen moment of silence. Kravitz glances slowly back at Taako, and Taako’s arms are crossed with an expectant expression – he absolutely heard that. No point in continuing with the plan; Kravitz vanishes the outerwear to reveal the kitten and waits for the yelling to start.
It doesn’t. Taako stares at the kitten for a long moment, and the kitten stares back at Taako. He doesn’t say anything, there’s no change on his face, but Taako plucks the kitten from Kravitz’s arms and carries it away into the house. Kravitz follows, first to the bathroom for a towel, and then to the kitchen where there’s some leftover chicken from dinner preparations (the kind of scraps that would push Taako to yelling if – and when – Magnus ever tried to slip them to his dogs under the table), and after that to the couch, where Taako curls up with the kitten in his lap and feeds it by hand.
Kravitz sits on the other end of the couch and watches. He knows that expression, the gentleness of those movements, and they aren’t gifted to many people. They’re for him sometimes, or for Angus or Lup or Barry, or Ren, or any of the others in the small list of Taako’s family. Taako strokes the kitten’s head and Kravitz can just make out the tiny rumble from where he sits.
He thinks about the way the kitten hissed when he got too close, and how he had to coax her out of hiding; how she tentatively came to him when he held a hand out to her, and once she was in his arms she didn’t make a bit of fuss the whole way home. He wonders why he thought Taako wouldn’t like her, when they’re so alike.
It’s a common sight to see them together after that; she’s on Taako’s shoulder, or in the fold of his hat, or trotting along behind him and yelling for attention. He picks her up all the time, pets her while she sleeps on his lap for long hours of binging new shows in the living room. It’s instant love.