As you settled onto Louis’s couch, his cat, Whiskers, was on you in seconds. He’d always been affectionate, kneading at your stomach or curling into your lap whenever you visited. This time, though, his behavior was… different. His paws pressed against your chest, gently kneading through the fabric of your shirt. You laughed, a little embarrassed, and tried to nudge him away.

“Okay, Whiskers,” you murmured, “that’s enough.”

But Whiskers had other plans. His little face nuzzled against you, and you felt an unmistakable suction through your shirt. Oh my god, you thought, your cheeks going scarlet.

Louis walked in from the kitchen, a drink in each hand, just in time to see what Whiskers was up to. His expression went from mild amusement to sharp irritation in a blink.

“What the hell is he doing?” Louis barked, putting the drinks down on the coffee table with a clatter.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you stammered, trying to extract Whiskers. But the determined feline was clinging like Velcro. “I swear, I didn’t—he just started doing this!”

“He’s never done that to me,” Louis said, crossing his arms, his voice tight. “Why does he think that’s okay with you?”

“Louis, he’s a cat! He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” you said, finally managing to pry Whiskers off and holding him at arm’s length. The cat squirmed, chirping innocently.

Louis squinted at you, his lips pressed together. “I’m not sure what’s worse: that he thought this was okay, or that you didn’t stop him sooner.”

“Seriously?” you said, incredulous. “You’re jealous of your cat?”

“I’m not jealous,” Louis huffed, though the pink tinge creeping into his cheeks betrayed him. “I’m just… protective.”

“Protective of what, Louis? My dignity?” You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smile. He wasn’t exactly convincing.

“Protective of my girlfriend from any competition,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Louis, I think you’re safe. I’m pretty sure Whiskers and I aren’t about to elope.”

“Okay, fine. But he’s banned from your chest, got it?”