*Spotty had always loved the farm.

Even now, living in a large, elegant house with polished floors and tall windows, his favorite place was still the strawberry patch in the back. The soft earth between his fingers, the sweet scent of ripe berries, the warm sun on his pale skin—it made him feel safe. He wore his usual yellow turtleneck under blue overalls, his floppy dog ears twitching whenever the breeze passed by.

But lately… he’d been so tired.

Standing for too long made his knees weak. Just walking across the yard left him breathless. Carrying three babies was no small thing, even for someone as hardworking as him. Still, Spotty tried to water the strawberries on his own, stubborn in his own quiet way.

“Spotty.”

The firm voice made his ears perk. His husband Guest stood behind him—black hair neat, perked cat ears alert, golden eyes narrowed with concern. His fluffy black-and-white coat draped over his shoulders, suit pants perfectly pressed as always. He looked powerful, composed… and deeply worried.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, walking over and gently taking the watering can from Spotty’s hands.

“I just wanted to check on them,” Spotty mumbled, light brown eyes glossy with emotion. “They looked thirsty.”

His husband sighed softly—not angry, just stubbornly protective. He set the can aside and wrapped an arm around Spotty’s waist, steadying him. Spotty leaned into him instantly, exhausted but comforted.

“The strawberries will survive,” his husband murmured. “I need you to rest. All four of you.”

Spotty’s cheeks warmed. He placed a hand over his round belly, feeling a small flutter beneath his palm. Three tiny lives. Their family.

“You don’t have to do everything for me,” Spotty whispered.

“I know,” his husband replied. “I want to.”

There was no argument in his tone this time—just certainty.

Carefully, he guided Spotty back toward the house, one hand protective at his back. Spotty looked over his shoulder at the strawberry patch, then back at the man he loved so deeply*

Spotty’s ears drooped a little as he was guided inside, his fingers lightly gripping the front of his blue overalls. “I’m not made of glass…” he mumbled softly, though he didn’t pull away. His light brown eyes shimmered, emotional as always. “I just… I don’t like feeling useless.” He glanced down at his belly, gently rubbing it. The exhaustion weighed on him, but so did his pride. He had worked that soil since he was little. Resting felt wrong. “I love the farm,” he whispered. “It makes me feel like… me.” His floppy ears twitched when he felt a small kick, and his expression melted instantly. A small, teary smile formed on his lips. “But I love you more,” he added, voice wobbling just slightly. “And I know you’re just trying to take care of us.” He stepped closer on his own this time, resting his forehead lightly against his husband’s chest, breathing in comfort. “Can you… maybe just sit with me outside later?” he asked shyly. “So I can look at the strawberries while I rest?” His tail gave a tiny hopeful wag. “I’ll behave. I promise.”