(Of Kittens and Names)

Mark found the kitten hiding on the fire escape in the snow. He had been heading out to film the street after the first snowfall of the season when he tripped over a ball of orange and white fluff with startling green eyes. The kitten hissed angrily as it was tumbled rump over snout in the powdery white and sprung to its full height of just under 5 inches. The filmmaker could not suppress a chuckle at such an angry pipsqueak, and extended a hand for the feline to sniff.

"Sorry I kicked you little thing, you shouldn't be sleeping right outside our window," The kitten, sensing (as all animals can) a pushover, rubbed its entire body against Mark's hand and mewled pitifully. Mark was caught. He quickly un-tucked his scarf and wrapped the small creature in the blue and white folds, carrying him into the relative warmth of the loft.

There was some just on that side of sour milk which he didn't think the cat would mind and some almost bad lunch meat that he prepared in a veritable feast for the little thing, settling down with the cat and the food on the couch near the barrel that served as their fireplace. The kitten ate hungrily, and once every drop and scrap of edible was gone he climbed merrily up Mark's sweater, found a good spot on the filmmaker's chest and settled in for what he viewed to be a very content nap. Mark smiled good-naturedly and decided to take a leaf from the kitten's book, settling his head back and closing his eyes.

And that was how Roger found them later, curled like two peas in a pod on the couch, Mark snoring softly and the kitten purring a harmony. The door to the loft slid shut and the Jewish boy cracked open one bright blue eye.

"Shh…he's sleeping," Roger raised an eyebrow.

"Where did it come from?"

"He, it's a he, and HE came from outside on the fire escape. I couldn't very well leave him alone in the cold!" Roger sat down next to Mark and placed his head on the smaller man's shoulder.

"Is it staying?"

"Of course! I was thinking of calling him Orangey," Roger winced.

"So this," he poked the kitten with his index finger, causing the small feline to curse loudly and relocate to the arm of the couch, "is my competition?" Mark grinned and stood, pulling Roger to his feet.

"That's about it." He hugged the taller man, burrowing in the warmth of his body.

"Well fine," He hugged the boy back and kissed the top of his head. Mark looked up with boyish eyes.

"We can keep him?" He asked and Roger had to bight back a chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"Only if we don't call him Orangey,"

"Why not? I thought it was a nice name," Roger only smiled and pulled the smaller man in for a kiss, and from the moth-eaten corner of their couch a small kitten named Orangey approved.

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(Disclaimer: All characters excepting Orangey belong to the late, great Jonathon Larson)