FIC: It's Okay For Us
Title: It's Okay For Us
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane, Steve Carlson, AU, Fantasy, Fluff, Vignette
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Thanks to: You, for reading. honeyjojames for the comment_fic prompt ‘RPS, Any!Kitty!Chris/Steve, claws’ that inspired this. havenward, ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Notes: This isn't just AU you guys... this is a future fic of an AU of an AU! First there was kitty!Christian. Then charlies_dragon asked and... then he was a kitten!Christian. As if that wasn't enough, shannonrita wanted more, and the kitten grew up into teen!kitty!Christian
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: Steve hates it when Christian bites his nails. But what's a cat to do when a trip to the grooming parlor is out of the question?
Steve growled in the back of his throat. He dropped his pen to the table and slammed his text book shut. "Will you stop doing that!" He snapped, glaring at Christian.
"Doing what?" Christian asked around the finger in his mouth, before biting down on his claw.
"That." Steve flinched at the sound. "Biting your fucking nails."
A guilty, sheepish look crossed Christian's face and he pulled his hand from his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled, his eyes still fixed down on the assignment he was writing.
They slipped into a comfortable silence as they both worked on their homework; the only sounds the scribbling of pens and the rustling of paper. The radio was playing and Steve started humming along to it half under his breath as he worked, chewing on the end of his pen. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed at the sound of Christian biting his nails again. He looked up and shot one hand out, slapping the back of Christian's hand.
Christian yelped and hissed, baring his teeth at Steve, who raised an eyebrow in response. "Didn't realise I was doing it," Christian defended himself, a sulky tone creeping into his voice. "They're too long!"
"Then use nail clippers or scissors like a normal person!"
"I'm not a normal person," Christian reminded Steve. He slumped back in his chair and scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm a cat."
"So get your mom to take you to the fucking grooming parlor then!" Steve snapped back, his fingers turning white where he held his pen so tightly. "Just. Stop. Biting. Your. Nails."
"The grooming parlor," Christian echoed, his voice flat even as anger and hurt warred in him. He straightened up in his chair, his ears flat and his fur bristling. Grabbing his backpack from the floor, he hastily shoved his books and pens into it then pulled it over his shoulders. He stalked across the kitchen and flung the door open, slamming it behind him so hard the frame rattled as he ran out, tears prickling his eyes.
Steve looked up at the slamming over the door, in time to see Christian dropping to all fours on the path and sprinting off. He scraped his chair back over the tiles and swore. Hitting himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. "Idiot," he muttered, shaking his head at himself. He yelled over his shoulder to his mom that he was going to Christian's before running out of the door.
Christian's mom answered the door when he knocked. She said nothing, just sighed and gestured him in, telling him Christian was in his room. Wrinkling his nose and scratching his head in embarassment he stepped in and walked to Christian's room, knocking on the door. A growled 'fuck off, Carlson' told Steve how welcome he was but he pushed the door open anyway.
Christian was stretched out, on his bed, face-down and his tail thumping in agitation. "I said fuck off," he growled but Steve could hear the sniffle behind his words. He turned his head to face the wall, surreptitiously wiping his tears with his fingertips. His growl increased, his hackles rising as Steve sat down on the edge of his bed.
"I'm sorry." Steve sighed and pushed a hand through his hair when Christian ignored him. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "What I said... It was out of line, I shouldn't have said it and I... I'm sorry, Chris."
Christian rolled over to face Steve, who tried to ignore the redness of his eyes and the streaks of drying tears on his cheeks, but couldn't and scooted over to pull him into a hug. A shudder and a moan and Christian fell forward into Steve's arms, clutching his shoulders and trying not to cry. "Fucking fed up of being a fucking freak," he muttered. "Can't hold the scissors right. Fingers don't do the right thing. Got not choice but to bite them."
Steve pulled back far enough to cup Christian's face in his hands. "You're not a freak," he promised, kissing Christian gently, then brushing his tears away with his fingers. "You're not," he insisted when Christian protested. "You're not. You're... amazing and unique and beautiful and... I l..." he laughed and blushed. "You're my best friend," he shrugged. "And that was lame. I feel like a chick flick," he complained, but smiled at Christian's snort of laughter. He kissed Christian again, then looked around his room with a frown. "Where're your nail clippers?"
Christian grumbled and pointed in the direction of his chest of drawers. Steve kissed him on the tip of his nose then, after a few minutes of rummaging through Christian's drawers, emerged with the clippers and sat back down, one leg folded underneath him. "Do you trust me?" He asked, smiling when Christian nodded shyly. Taking Christian's hand, he slowly and carefully trimmed his nails, kissing each finger as he finished it, and pressing a kiss to the palm of both of his hands.
"Thank you," Christian whispered, tears shining in his eyes as he tipped Steve's chin up and kissed him. "Should... probably finish Chemistry."
Steve scowled and nodded. "Yeah."
And when Christian came home from school the following evening to find a scratching post in his bedroom, he just laughed.
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane, Steve Carlson, AU, Fantasy, Fluff, Vignette
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Thanks to: You, for reading. honeyjojames for the comment_fic prompt ‘RPS, Any!Kitty!Chris/Steve, claws’ that inspired this. havenward, ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Notes: This isn't just AU you guys... this is a future fic of an AU of an AU! First there was kitty!Christian. Then charlies_dragon asked and... then he was a kitten!Christian. As if that wasn't enough, shannonrita wanted more, and the kitten grew up into teen!kitty!Christian
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: Steve hates it when Christian bites his nails. But what's a cat to do when a trip to the grooming parlor is out of the question?
Steve growled in the back of his throat. He dropped his pen to the table and slammed his text book shut. "Will you stop doing that!" He snapped, glaring at Christian.
"Doing what?" Christian asked around the finger in his mouth, before biting down on his claw.
"That." Steve flinched at the sound. "Biting your fucking nails."
A guilty, sheepish look crossed Christian's face and he pulled his hand from his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled, his eyes still fixed down on the assignment he was writing.
They slipped into a comfortable silence as they both worked on their homework; the only sounds the scribbling of pens and the rustling of paper. The radio was playing and Steve started humming along to it half under his breath as he worked, chewing on the end of his pen. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed at the sound of Christian biting his nails again. He looked up and shot one hand out, slapping the back of Christian's hand.
Christian yelped and hissed, baring his teeth at Steve, who raised an eyebrow in response. "Didn't realise I was doing it," Christian defended himself, a sulky tone creeping into his voice. "They're too long!"
"Then use nail clippers or scissors like a normal person!"
"I'm not a normal person," Christian reminded Steve. He slumped back in his chair and scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm a cat."
"So get your mom to take you to the fucking grooming parlor then!" Steve snapped back, his fingers turning white where he held his pen so tightly. "Just. Stop. Biting. Your. Nails."
"The grooming parlor," Christian echoed, his voice flat even as anger and hurt warred in him. He straightened up in his chair, his ears flat and his fur bristling. Grabbing his backpack from the floor, he hastily shoved his books and pens into it then pulled it over his shoulders. He stalked across the kitchen and flung the door open, slamming it behind him so hard the frame rattled as he ran out, tears prickling his eyes.
Steve looked up at the slamming over the door, in time to see Christian dropping to all fours on the path and sprinting off. He scraped his chair back over the tiles and swore. Hitting himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. "Idiot," he muttered, shaking his head at himself. He yelled over his shoulder to his mom that he was going to Christian's before running out of the door.
Christian's mom answered the door when he knocked. She said nothing, just sighed and gestured him in, telling him Christian was in his room. Wrinkling his nose and scratching his head in embarassment he stepped in and walked to Christian's room, knocking on the door. A growled 'fuck off, Carlson' told Steve how welcome he was but he pushed the door open anyway.
Christian was stretched out, on his bed, face-down and his tail thumping in agitation. "I said fuck off," he growled but Steve could hear the sniffle behind his words. He turned his head to face the wall, surreptitiously wiping his tears with his fingertips. His growl increased, his hackles rising as Steve sat down on the edge of his bed.
"I'm sorry." Steve sighed and pushed a hand through his hair when Christian ignored him. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "What I said... It was out of line, I shouldn't have said it and I... I'm sorry, Chris."
Christian rolled over to face Steve, who tried to ignore the redness of his eyes and the streaks of drying tears on his cheeks, but couldn't and scooted over to pull him into a hug. A shudder and a moan and Christian fell forward into Steve's arms, clutching his shoulders and trying not to cry. "Fucking fed up of being a fucking freak," he muttered. "Can't hold the scissors right. Fingers don't do the right thing. Got not choice but to bite them."
Steve pulled back far enough to cup Christian's face in his hands. "You're not a freak," he promised, kissing Christian gently, then brushing his tears away with his fingers. "You're not," he insisted when Christian protested. "You're not. You're... amazing and unique and beautiful and... I l..." he laughed and blushed. "You're my best friend," he shrugged. "And that was lame. I feel like a chick flick," he complained, but smiled at Christian's snort of laughter. He kissed Christian again, then looked around his room with a frown. "Where're your nail clippers?"
Christian grumbled and pointed in the direction of his chest of drawers. Steve kissed him on the tip of his nose then, after a few minutes of rummaging through Christian's drawers, emerged with the clippers and sat back down, one leg folded underneath him. "Do you trust me?" He asked, smiling when Christian nodded shyly. Taking Christian's hand, he slowly and carefully trimmed his nails, kissing each finger as he finished it, and pressing a kiss to the palm of both of his hands.
"Thank you," Christian whispered, tears shining in his eyes as he tipped Steve's chin up and kissed him. "Should... probably finish Chemistry."
Steve scowled and nodded. "Yeah."
And when Christian came home from school the following evening to find a scratching post in his bedroom, he just laughed.