Chapter Text
On paper, everything had seemed absolutely perfect. The house was in a rural town with only two houses along the long, winding dirt road. Stede had even attended a house tour and couldn’t find a single thing wrong- inside or out. In fact, there was a lovely little garden tucked away in the backyard that the listing hadn’t even bothered to mention!
To top it all off, the state was home to one of Stede’s favorite birds and one that he had yet to see with his own eyes- the Kirtland’s Warbler. While unassuming and a bit dull at first glance, the Kirtland’s Warbler was one of the rarest songbirds in North America. Stede felt a sort of kinship to it in that way. Though, he supposed the bird was a bit more sought after than he would ever be. Stede was determined to see it at least once in his lifetime.
Mary had been eager to move on with her life and encouraged Stede to do the same. She had already begun the process of moving her belongings into Doug’s place months before they had even begun talks of a divorce.
Not that Stede blamed her for it- being married to a closeted gay man for so long surely had its downsides. But Stede’s father was dead and his children were off to college and starting their own lives. So what was stopping him from beginning his own?
Stede had been more than a little excited when the day had finally come- his entire life packed away into cardboard boxes, ready to be shipped from the big city to the rural countryside. Mary and Lucius had thrown him a farewell party, more than a few tears being shed as Stede promised to keep in touch. It had been a beautiful ordeal that he would cherish forever.
So, it should stand to reason that as Stede settled into his new home he should be elated. A whole house to decorate as he wished! A large library! A beautiful backyard with an amazing view! Birds! In reality, Stede had failed to take one small fact into consideration- his closest neighbor, Israel, who was by far the most unpleasant grouchy human Stede had ever had the misfortune to meet.
And it wasn’t as if Stede hadn’t tried to be friendly to his new neighbor. He had tried for all of three weeks before throwing in the towel and resorting to pettiness and passive aggression. Israel, as Stede discovered on the very first day of his move, had a nasty habit of revving his motorcycle engine and scaring away any and all wildlife.
During the first couple of instances, Stede had brushed it off. Surely the man didn’t do that every time he went out for a ride, right? Or at the very least, he wouldn’t be riding every single day…
Incorrect.
Every time Stede tried to go birdwatching, without fail, Israel would go outside and rev that heap of junk metal. Stede was convinced Israel was only doing it when he knew Stede would be outside, too. It was early spring for heaven's sake! The man wasn’t even going on rides, half of the time. He would simply see Stede out and about, rev his engine, wait until Stede went inside, then turn off the motorcycle and go back inside himself.
When Stede had tried breaching the topic one day (so very politely, mind), he had been brushed off with a, “mind your own fuckin’ business” and a door slammed in his face.
The spiteful little gremlin of a man.
So, Stede had taken it upon himself to start retaliating. Never in any truly harmful ways, but with just enough passive aggression to make himself feel better. For instance, Stede had once happened to notice an apple pie cooling on Israel’s windowsill- close enough to notice that the crust seemed a tad dry. So, Stede had baked his own apple pie recipe and left it on his doorstep with a note reading, ‘I noticed your attempt. Perhaps a taste of a true apple pie can help broaden your horizons. I hope this helps --Stede.’
He had never gotten his pie dish back but he’d like to think that the sour expression on Israel’s face had been worth it.
Stede, for his part, had given up trying to bird watch when Israel was home. And, as spring turned to summer, he seemed to be gone more often. Off on long bike rides to try to fill the empty void within his soul, probably.
It was on one such day that Stede found himself walking about his garden. His plants were coming along quite nicely now that the horrid tomato worms were finally dealt with. Now if he could only get the flower patch to buck up.
“Mrow?”
Pulled abruptly from his musings, Stede looked down to see a cat staring back up at him.
Stede gasped out a little “oh!” of surprise. “Well, hello there!” Did one often greet cats in such a manner? It seemed rude not to. Stede’s father had never permitted pets growing up. He had brought up the idea of getting a cat when Alma had turned 6 but that had led to a lengthy chastising from Mary who had, apparently, told him several times that she was deathly allergic. And now… well it was a bit late in life to start understanding how to care for an animal, wasn’t it?
And yet, there was a beautiful long-haired tortoiseshell cat at his feet staring quizzically up at him with the biggest doe eyes Stede had ever seen. What kind of monster would he be to simply ignore her?
Kneeling down, Stede offered a hand out for her to sniff. This, at the very least, he knew was the first step. The cat took all of two sniffs before headbutting against his hand, demanding to be pet. And at that point, he really had no choice but to dote on the creature.
“Aren’t you magnificent,” Stede cooed. Scritching under her chin, he noticed a lack of a collar. “All this beautifully taken care of fur and yet no collar, hm? Well. I do wish I could take you in but I’m quite convinced you already have a home, don’t you?”
Stede received a small ‘mmrp’ in response as she leaned into the touch.
“Ah, well, I suppose there's no harm in letting you stick around while I’m out and about.”
The cat lay about in the sun as Stede returned to his flowers and he couldn’t help but think that it must be nice to roll about in sun-warmed grass without a worry in the world. They spent several hours in companionable silence until Stede’s back and knees started to protest.
“Well, that does it for me, I’m afraid. These old bones don’t put up with as much manual labor as they used to. Though I do hope you’ll come back to visit again. You were marvelous company.”
The torti stared at him, expressionless, seeming to make no promises in either direction. Stede gave her one last pat farewell before standing to his feet with an exaggerated groan. Seeming to take this as a cue, the torti brushed up against his pant leg.
A loud rev of an engine sounded in the near distance and the torti perked her head up before running off into the brush. Stede sighed. Would no animal around here get to have peace from that blasted man?
Brushing his hands of dirt, Stede made his way back inside for an evening of hot tea with a nice book.