Author's Note: Written for this prompt at the Dragon Age kink meme:

Fenris's mansion becomes the go to place for cats to have their kittens. Suddenly Fenris finds his living space overrun with cute little kitties and he has no idea what to do.

Things get worse when Anders finds out and starts spending every waking minute over there.

There was milk in the foyer again.

Stepping past the chipped, mismatched bowls, Fenris made his way up the stairs, nearly tripping over a pair of tabbies that tore past, ignoring the half-dozen furry faces that peered at him through the railing. From deeper in the mansion, he could hear a voice crooning low and regular, and he had a growing suspicion as to who he would find as soon as he cleared the door to the room he'd claimed for himself.

Sure enough, there was Anders, perched on the edge of Fenris's bed (his bed!) with a plump grey cat in his lap, fingers stroking behind its ears as he babbled nonsense at it. For a long moment, it was all Fenris could do to stare, uncertain how to make the vision in front of him go away, preferably as quickly as possible. He hovered in the doorway, waiting for Anders's notice, but the mage remained blithely unaware of his presence until, after what seemed like an endless span of minutes, Fenris had had enough.

"They would cease coming here if you did not persist in putting food out for them," he grouched, gratified when Anders's head finally lifted and turned his way. "What do I want with a houseful of cats? Perhaps you should sack them all and take them to Darktown with you. Then you would all be out of my hair."

"I doubt their prospects would be promising in Darktown," Anders replied calmly. "There are an awful lot of hungry refugees there." He lifted the cat from his lap, rubbing his cheek against its head as it dangled limply in his grasp. "Isn't that right, Ser Purrceval? You'd be less likely to enjoy a meal than to become one." He turned the cat to face Fenris, peering at him over its fuzzy head. "Could you really leave this charming creature to such a fate?"

Fenris closed his eyes, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Now get off of my bed."

"And here I thought your overflowing unreasonable hatred was limited to mages; apparently, poor, defenseless little kitties are as much to be feared. Look out: Ser Purrceval might become an abomination and scratch your nose off!"

"Anders," Fenris said through his teeth, "what will it take to make you leave?"

"Visitation rights." At Fenris's incredulous look, Anders shrugged and bent to set Ser Purrceval on the floor, shooing it under the bed. "I want visitation rights. I'll contribute what I can to their upkeep, and I want to be able to spend time with them. Without," he added with narrowed eyes, "you hanging over me and complaining the whole time."

"This is my house," Fenris growled, then pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I owe you nothing."

"Actually, this isn't your house," Anders reminded him, his bright smile not doing much to mask the evil glee in his eyes. "It would be a shame for certain people to discover your presence here; Aveline has been working so hard to hide you, too."

Fenris's eyes widened. "You're blackmailing me?" His fingers twitched, curling spasmodically into a white-knuckled fist. "Fine," he spat, "do whatever you want. You will anyway."

"I'm so glad we were able to reach an accord." Anders's smile widened until it seemed impossibly large, splitting his face. "I knew you'd be reasonable. Ser Purrceval and all the others appreciate it."

Fenris sighed, deflating as he turned his back to Anders and folded his arms over his chest. "Just... get out, will you? At least pretend that you possess something like common courtesy." He curled his lip at Anders's soft chuckle, but the mage only did as he asked, footsteps receding softly from the room. It wasn't until he heard the outer door shutting that Fenris let his arms fall and moved to perch in the spot so recently occupied by Anders. He'd barely settled, though, when four feet landed squarely in his lap, Ser Purrceval's round face peering into his as it meowed plaintively.

"Opportunist," Fenris said, without heat. "Any port in a storm, is it?" He curled his fingers beneath Ser Purrceval's chin, rubbing absently as the cat stretched its neck and started to purr rustily. "Ser Purrceval is a stupid name, anyway," Fenris mused after a few minutes of scritching. "I refuse to call you that. I think I'll call you... Shok. Much better, isn't it?"

Ser Purrceval cum Shok mrred at him, then stretched, claws sinking into Fenris's leg briefly before it leapt to the floor and headed for the door, fluffy tail a proud flag as it ambled from the room.

"Maker help me," Fenris groaned as he dropped his head into his hands. "What have I gotten into?"

Author's Note Part Deux: There is a fairly porny sequel to this piece entitled 'The Best Little Cathouse in Kirkwall' that will not be posted here. Find it on my Dreamwidth journal (link in my profile) if you're interested.