The Whole Glass Of Water

Derek stands frozen for a moment, disbelieving, before his hands come slowly forward. Its fur is surprisingly soft, and he buries his fingers in it as he strokes his way down its back. He catches its hindquarters on instinct when it springs out of the cage and onto his chest, shoving it face cold nose-first into the crook of his neck, and beneath the rumble of its purrs Derek can still make out the careful ticking of its heart.

If he leaves it here, it's going to die alone. It's a sentence he knows all too well.

“What sort of paperwork do you need me to fill out?”