Roman brings home the box and Hunter knows it's going to be trouble even before the soft, squeaky meows begin sounding from the inside. He just knew sending Roman out was a bad idea.

And now here they are. He has to hold back a sigh at the sight of the two kittens exploring the practice ring, no doubt confused by the myriad of human scents on the mat and the ropes. The little black-and-blond one in particular likes the ropes; he somehow manages to jump the foot to the bottom rope, little baby claws sinking into the hemp with enough strength to keep him suspended. Clever trick. The disheveled brown one is more insistent on attacking anyone who so much as sets foot near him, hissing and swiping his claws at them. Only when Roman steps into the ring does he calm down and trot over, weaving between Roman's legs and mewling.

"I told you it's not Bring Your Pet to Work Day," Hunter calls from ringside.

"We can't just leave them at home while we're on the road. They'd get lonely." Roman crouches down and picks up the brown fur ball, scratching it in such a way that it goes limp and starts to purr. "You like it here, don't you, Dean? You get to attack as many people as you want."

Hunter furrows his eyebrows. "Don't name them. You can't keep them, Roe. I'm serious."

"Ignore Daddy. He's thickheaded," Roman says conversationally to the kitten… Dean.

The bi-colored kitten is Seth; Hunter watches him from the corner of his eye, pulling himself up until he's balanced precariously on the bottom rope. Clearly proud of himself, he squeaks in triumph and begins to walk along it with quick, confident steps.

"Well," a familiar voice says beside him as Randy comes to brace his elbows on the ring apron, "we do have a bull wrestling. Kitten wrestling would go over really well with the kids."

He scoffs and watches as Seth reaches the turnbuckle, stretching up on his hind legs to reach for the second rope. "No. It wouldn't even be a contest. That one would just climb and the other one's too twitch and impatient for it. They'd barely have any contact, Orton."

Roman lifts his head from where Dean is currently batting at the ends of his long curls, cocking an eyebrow at Hunter as if to say Did you really just consider how a match would really work out between them? He's the COO; it's his job to think about things like that even in hypothetical situations and besides, the cats are in the ring. Well, technically; Seth is still walking along the second rope, clearly pleased with himself for the accomplishment. When he jumps across the turnbuckle to the adjacent side, though, Hunter's heart stops because if something happens to either of these little poof balls, Roman is going to be heartbroken.

"Hi, little guy," Randy says, offering his hand when Seth jumps onto the apron and pads over.

"Little is right," Hunter agrees, watching Seth sniff Randy's fingers. "He's, like, half a kitten."

Seth mewls and noses at Randy's hand for pets, entirely too comfortable with him this quickly.

Randy just sends Hunter a look as he scratches under Seth's chin. "He's cute, though."

Hunter sighs; another person overcome by the cuteness factor, then. He pulls himself up onto the apron and steps through the ropes, intent on making Roman forget about the kittens for a little while so they can get in some necessary training. Everyone in the corporate side of the business is intent that Roman's Samoan heritage, impressive size, and formidable ring skills will make him the next face of the company once Cena gets around to retiring. Hunter agrees; Roman is one of the best right now, still green and in need of more skills, so once he has all of the necessary pieces, he is going to be unbeatable. And as his boss, his coach, and his boyfriend, Hunter plans on providing as much help as he can for the younger man.

"Put the fur ball down so we can get some practice in before we have to worry about going over the script," Hunter says, gesturing to where Dean is sprawled in Roman's lap.

"Fine. Randy, can you hold onto Dean for me while Hunter and I work?" Roman casts a glance over at Randy, and Hunter barely resists the impulse to groan at the sight of Seth perched on Randy's shoulder. "He's got claws and he isn't afraid to use them, so watch out."

Randy smirks and leans over the apron, holding out his hands for Roman to transfer Dean to him. "He's just a kitten. I think I can handle him. You guys should think about getting a carrier for them or something. Don't want some crazy fan trying to kidnap the kittens."

"Be even better for when we're in here and the focus needs to not be on them," Hunter mutters, ignoring the sharp look Roman shoots him before handing Dean over to Randy.

"We're not getting a cat prison for them, Hunter," Roman says finally before standing, pushing all that hair back behind his shoulders. "I made that perfectly clear. Randy can hold them."

Randy can try, Hunter thinks but doesn't say; Dean starts hissing and clawing the moment Roman is no longer touching him and Randy ends up awkwardly holding him with his paws facing outward to keep his claws away. If that hurts the cat, Hunter is going to get yelled at even though he wasn't the one who suggested Randy should hold Dean in the first place.

Roman sighs and turns to face him. "All right. What do you want to work on first?"

"Your power bomb," Hunter says simply, shrugging out of his shirt. Damn thing ends up soaked in sweat once they're done anyway. "Reverse my Pedigree and power bomb me."

In retrospect, trusting Randy with anything is useless and Hunter should have known better than to do it in the first place. But he's an idiot and he honestly thought two small kittens wouldn't be too much work. He's wrong. The moment gets Roman in position for the Pedigree, a small, raging ball of fur attacks his right foot and sends him reeling back. Dean. The kitten yowls and releases him, spitting with his tiny ears turned back on his head. Hunter braces against the ropes, resisting the urge to shake Dean off because Roman would kill him if he accidentally kicked the kitten across the room in the process. Only when Dean dislodges does Hunter relax. And it's about then that he realizes that Randy couldn't handle either kitten and Seth is on the ropes again.

"Are you all right?" Roman asks, leaning down to scoop Dean up and smooth a hand down his back. Instantly, Dean relaxes and mewls, leaning up into the touch in that body-roll way of his.

Hunter shakes his foot out, wincing slightly at the slight pain. "Fine. Just flesh wounds. I swear to God, Roe, I thought you said kittens. That one is a goddamn lunatic."

"But he's my lunatic. Aren't you, sweetheart?" Roman actually coos down at the little assassin, who promptly flops over onto his back in Roman's arms and bats at his hair again. Oh, sure. Now he's all calm and shit. "And look at Seth. He can get on the top rope. You can't do that."

Which is true. He can't. But he's pretty sure a kitten shouldn't be doing it and he's proven right all of a minute later when Seth tries to jump past the turnbuckle and misses. Most cats would land on their feet, but for some reason, he doesn't and the loud mewl he releases is terrifying.

Roman's hands are full—that's the only reason Hunter moves faster. Because Roman can't, he tells himself, not because I'm actually worried about the little fur ball. He scoops Seth up off of the mat and notices immediately the way that Seth is whining and licking at his forepaw, his impossibly tiny body shivering. As soon as Roman sees, his face gets serious and he sends Hunter a look that leaves no room for argument. Well, Roman can do his power bomb just fine.

"All right." Hunter retrieves his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder in lieu of actually putting the damn thing on. "Find directions for the nearest vet and we'll go straight there."

Literally no one takes him seriously when he returns from the impromptu veterinary visit with a tiny kitten perched on his shoulder, favoring a forepaw with a bit of tape wrapped around it. Not that most people took him seriously in the first place—he did almost get Vince McMahon to say he loved cock at one point, after all—but this is just the last nail in the coffin. Dean is sitting in the crook of Roman's arm, alternately washing his face and hissing at literally everyone they pass. Everyone except Heath Slater because apparently no one can hate him; he actually gets to pet Dean and gets a satisfied mewl out of him. It's not even fair. Nothing about this is.

He ditches the kittens with Kane after the big man takes one look at Seth on his shoulder, nosing at his ear, and bursts into laughter. Apparently he's forgotten Hunter is the fucking boss and so he gets to baby-sit while Hunter and Roman prepare for their match. It's a perfect match; Roman destroys him and as soon as they're backstage, Hunter pushes him up against the wall and mumbles against his lips in-between kisses just how fantastic the match was. Of course he gets pushed away after a bit because Roman wants to go get the kittens. Of. Fucking. Course.

"Are you guys keeping them?" Kane asks as he hands over Seth and dislodges Dean from where the lunatic kitten is claws-deep in his boots. He dislodges when he realizes Roman is there.

Hunter would say no, but he'd have to say no to Roman, and so… "Yeah. We are."