Smitten Kitten [2a/?]
anonymous
September 29 2009, 01:47:47 UTC
Why did you do this to me?! Arthur yowled and hissed, glaring at her contemptuously. Native America giggled at him, pressing a cold hand against his head. The kitten growled and bristled, his tail twitching in annoyance. He wanted to scratch her bloody face off, but knew that he couldn’t. She was too far gone for anyone to touch her.
“Why, little Arthur, I’m not going to give you the answer to that question. I think that you should…find out for yourself,” the Native American replied, her murky brown eyes conniving and slightly resentful. She wasn’t happy about something, but Arthur honestly didn’t want to know what it was.
When do I turn back, then? He flicked his tail and his ears were flat against his skull. Arthur didn’t trust that smile upon the spirit’s face. It held mischief, but also had an almost bitter look to it, too.
“That, dearest, you’ll have to find out for yourself, too,” she whispered, patting him once more on the head and disappeared. He growled in frustration before leaping off of the counter, landing gracefully on the floor. Arthur hesitated before deciding he may as well look around the house. He had been there many times before, yet the cat part of him thought it was new territory to chart out.
~*~*~*
It took a couple hours for America to finally get home. When he did walk through that door, Arthur was dozing on the couch in the living room. His ears perked up at the sound of the Nation’s footsteps. The sandy cat yawned and stretched before going to greet his new “caretaker.” Arthur blinked stupidly at what was in the American’s arms.
America was carrying around a decent-sized cat carrier, a collar dangling from his wrist, and a bag of dry cat food slung over his shoulder. He set the things down in the kitchen before heading back out to the car. This time, the American brought in a litter box and a container of Fresh Step kitty litter. America went back out again and brought in two cat bowls and some toys. Arthur honestly wasn’t sure what to make of all that.
“Hey, kitty, I already picked out a name for you,” the blond commented as he picked Arthur up. He would have raised an eyebrow if he could, so instead he opted for a blank stare. America was grinning in pure delight as he sat down on the couch, slipping the black-and-silver collar over Arthur’s head. The cat felt something dangling from the band and he shook himself all over, a tinkling meeting his surprised ears. A bell? Seriously?
“I’m going to call you…Guinevere, like in the Arthurian legends,” he was smiling brightly, oblivious to the cat that was currently shooting daggers at him, “You remind me a bit of…someone I know, and I figured why not? I mean, I loved those stories, so maybe I’ll…Oh, what am I saying? You probably don’t even understand what I’m talking about, let alone what I’m saying.”
The smile on America’s face turned sad, which surprised Arthur. Normally, the man was so cheerful and optimistic it bordered on naïve. Yet, here it was, a sad, unguarded smile. Arthur honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that change. It also meant that America would be more honest, however, since the Nation saw Arthur as a cat and not as England.
They sat on that couch for a good while, the American holding the kitten in his arms and gently stroking his fur. Arthur had closed his eyes and started purring, but was beyond caring to worry or even be angry about America touching him like that. He just simply enjoyed the moment of affection he was being given.
Smitten Kitten [2b/?]
anonymous
September 29 2009, 01:49:00 UTC
And then Arthur got hungry. He wiggled a bit before nipping America’s finger softly. The American must have been thinking about something as his head snapped down to look at the kitten. He smiled a little and glanced at the clock, then cursed softly.
“No wonder you’re hungry. It’s almost six,” America smiled sheepishly at the tiny cat before setting Arthur down on the floor. He stretched his arms and stood up from the couch, walking with the tiny ball of fluff into the kitchen. The American made Arthur food first before checking his pantry. America hummed a bit in thought and picked up what he needed to make a PB & honey sandwich.
Dinner was eaten in silence, which felt awkward to the kitten. His tail twitched as he licked himself clean, glancing every now and then at America. The American was frowning as he ate, his eyes glazed over, thoughts obviously elsewhere. When he finished cleaning up, America stared at the kitten for a moment.
“You know what, Gwen? I think I’m gonna take you to the vet tomorrow. You know, just to make sure you aren’t sick or anything,” America told Arthur thoughtfully, a finger tapping his (America’s) chin. The cat would have paled if he could. There was no fucking way he wanted a thermometer shoved up his…!
A warm hand started scratching his ears. Arthur’s eyes slipped shut as he leaned into the touch, purring happily at the contact. America was smiling warmly, so warmly that the cat could feel it like the sun’s rays on his skin. Now that he thought about it, the American hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. What caused that to happen? Arthur wouldn’t admit it aloud, but America’s true smiles were tearfully beautiful. He had never known how much he had missed those smiles until then.
The two walked into the living room and America just watched TV while absently petting Arthur’s head. Said cat was currently curled into a ball, thinking. He didn’t get anywhere in his thoughts and was jarred out of them when the American yawned. Arthur turned his head to look up at the Nation. America smiled again and picked him up, taking him upstairs into his room. Arthur would have blushed, knowing exactly what was happening now.
SHIT! He’s gonna get dressed into his night clothes and…and…! Arthur refused to think about the rest as he was set gently onto America’s bed. He studiously averted his gaze elsewhere as the younger Nation undressed himself. The kitten looked back at the American when he felt a dip in the bed. Arthur blinked at America, watching him slip under the sheets. He hesitated before getting up and climbing onto the American’s chest, curling up into that warmth.
“Aww, you’re so cute!” he cooed with pure affection, scratching Arthur’s ears once more. America smiled, resting a hand on the kitten’s back, and closed his eyes to welcome sleep.
~*~*~*
It wasn’t until one in the morning that things started to go wrong for that night. Arthur was shaken from his sleep when he slid from his (very) comfortable position and onto the mattress of the bed. He opened his eyes, about to bite America for turning like that, but he stopped himself. The American’s face was scrunched up in a mix of fear and terror; sweat was beading upon his brow and sliding down his face. He turned to the other side, clutching the sheets as though it was a lifeline.
Smitten Kitten [2c/?]
anonymous
September 29 2009, 01:49:56 UTC
“Alfred!” was what he had meant to say, but it came out as more of a sharp yowl. Arthur growled, frustrated, before pouncing on America’s shoulder and nipping him sharply. The American gasped as his eyes flew open and sat up so fast Arthur had to clutch onto America’s shoulder using his claws. He felt bad doing that when he heard America’s sharp intake of breath, feeling the American’s muscles tense from the pain of nails digging into his soft flesh.
“Sorry, Guinevere,” America murmured, taking the kitten off of his shoulder and hugging him close to his chest. Arthur looked up to the Nation’s face, listening to the erratic beating of America’s heart. Whatever that nightmare had been, it must have been bad if it had almost brought the blond to tears. Arthur hesitated before nuzzling his head into America’s chest. He hated it when something bothered his former colony, but pride got in the way most of the time to prevent him from doing anything about it.
They stayed like that until the American felt able to return to sleep. Arthur was curled on his chest once more, but he simply watched the Nation. His ears flickered at the slightest sounds, wondering if maybe Native America had wanted him as a cat to help chase away America’s nightmares, because it seemed as if Arthur couldn’t do that when he was a human.
Oh, America… Arthur thought sadly as he stared at America’s currently peaceful face. He stood and licked the blond’s cheek delicately before blushing when he realized what he had done. The cat shook his head and curled up again, his back facing America.
Smitten Kitten [2/?] Author's Notes
anonymous
September 29 2009, 01:55:24 UTC
Native America can understand animals, at least that's what my headcanon dictates. Oh, yes, and she's also being VERY sarcastic when calling Arthur "dearest" and "little Arthur."
Went with Gwen as the nickname 'cause...well...I went with phonetics on that. Sorry if I got it wrong. ._.;
Aww, that was both adorable and kinda sad at the same time. Poor Al, all alone (although he has "Gwen" now, haha) and having nightmares, no wonder Native America finally decided that it was high time he got someone in his life. Arthur's really in character too, although you can tell when the cat in him seems to take over. I found it so adorable that he actually licked Alfred after his (Al's) nightmare. Hopefully Arthur won't have to deal with any thermometers when he goes to the vet, though to be honest I'd be a little more worried about Alfred deciding to neuter him, haha. Anyway, I thought this was fantastic and can’t wait to read more!
AuthorAnon~
anonymous
September 30 2009, 22:15:43 UTC
Thanks. XD *gives Alfred many hugs* Man, I love writing Al and Art. They're just so...funny in their interactions with the other. :) Oh, man, I almost forgot about the neutering. xD Haha...I'll be having fun with that. >:3 And thanks again~! <3
“Why, little Arthur, I’m not going to give you the answer to that question. I think that you should…find out for yourself,” the Native American replied, her murky brown eyes conniving and slightly resentful. She wasn’t happy about something, but Arthur honestly didn’t want to know what it was.
When do I turn back, then? He flicked his tail and his ears were flat against his skull. Arthur didn’t trust that smile upon the spirit’s face. It held mischief, but also had an almost bitter look to it, too.
“That, dearest, you’ll have to find out for yourself, too,” she whispered, patting him once more on the head and disappeared. He growled in frustration before leaping off of the counter, landing gracefully on the floor. Arthur hesitated before deciding he may as well look around the house. He had been there many times before, yet the cat part of him thought it was new territory to chart out.
~*~*~*
It took a couple hours for America to finally get home. When he did walk through that door, Arthur was dozing on the couch in the living room. His ears perked up at the sound of the Nation’s footsteps. The sandy cat yawned and stretched before going to greet his new “caretaker.” Arthur blinked stupidly at what was in the American’s arms.
America was carrying around a decent-sized cat carrier, a collar dangling from his wrist, and a bag of dry cat food slung over his shoulder. He set the things down in the kitchen before heading back out to the car. This time, the American brought in a litter box and a container of Fresh Step kitty litter. America went back out again and brought in two cat bowls and some toys. Arthur honestly wasn’t sure what to make of all that.
“Hey, kitty, I already picked out a name for you,” the blond commented as he picked Arthur up. He would have raised an eyebrow if he could, so instead he opted for a blank stare. America was grinning in pure delight as he sat down on the couch, slipping the black-and-silver collar over Arthur’s head. The cat felt something dangling from the band and he shook himself all over, a tinkling meeting his surprised ears. A bell? Seriously?
“I’m going to call you…Guinevere, like in the Arthurian legends,” he was smiling brightly, oblivious to the cat that was currently shooting daggers at him, “You remind me a bit of…someone I know, and I figured why not? I mean, I loved those stories, so maybe I’ll…Oh, what am I saying? You probably don’t even understand what I’m talking about, let alone what I’m saying.”
The smile on America’s face turned sad, which surprised Arthur. Normally, the man was so cheerful and optimistic it bordered on naïve. Yet, here it was, a sad, unguarded smile. Arthur honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that change. It also meant that America would be more honest, however, since the Nation saw Arthur as a cat and not as England.
They sat on that couch for a good while, the American holding the kitten in his arms and gently stroking his fur. Arthur had closed his eyes and started purring, but was beyond caring to worry or even be angry about America touching him like that. He just simply enjoyed the moment of affection he was being given.
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“No wonder you’re hungry. It’s almost six,” America smiled sheepishly at the tiny cat before setting Arthur down on the floor. He stretched his arms and stood up from the couch, walking with the tiny ball of fluff into the kitchen. The American made Arthur food first before checking his pantry. America hummed a bit in thought and picked up what he needed to make a PB & honey sandwich.
Dinner was eaten in silence, which felt awkward to the kitten. His tail twitched as he licked himself clean, glancing every now and then at America. The American was frowning as he ate, his eyes glazed over, thoughts obviously elsewhere. When he finished cleaning up, America stared at the kitten for a moment.
“You know what, Gwen? I think I’m gonna take you to the vet tomorrow. You know, just to make sure you aren’t sick or anything,” America told Arthur thoughtfully, a finger tapping his (America’s) chin. The cat would have paled if he could. There was no fucking way he wanted a thermometer shoved up his…!
A warm hand started scratching his ears. Arthur’s eyes slipped shut as he leaned into the touch, purring happily at the contact. America was smiling warmly, so warmly that the cat could feel it like the sun’s rays on his skin. Now that he thought about it, the American hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. What caused that to happen? Arthur wouldn’t admit it aloud, but America’s true smiles were tearfully beautiful. He had never known how much he had missed those smiles until then.
The two walked into the living room and America just watched TV while absently petting Arthur’s head. Said cat was currently curled into a ball, thinking. He didn’t get anywhere in his thoughts and was jarred out of them when the American yawned. Arthur turned his head to look up at the Nation. America smiled again and picked him up, taking him upstairs into his room. Arthur would have blushed, knowing exactly what was happening now.
SHIT! He’s gonna get dressed into his night clothes and…and…! Arthur refused to think about the rest as he was set gently onto America’s bed. He studiously averted his gaze elsewhere as the younger Nation undressed himself. The kitten looked back at the American when he felt a dip in the bed. Arthur blinked at America, watching him slip under the sheets. He hesitated before getting up and climbing onto the American’s chest, curling up into that warmth.
“Aww, you’re so cute!” he cooed with pure affection, scratching Arthur’s ears once more. America smiled, resting a hand on the kitten’s back, and closed his eyes to welcome sleep.
~*~*~*
It wasn’t until one in the morning that things started to go wrong for that night. Arthur was shaken from his sleep when he slid from his (very) comfortable position and onto the mattress of the bed. He opened his eyes, about to bite America for turning like that, but he stopped himself. The American’s face was scrunched up in a mix of fear and terror; sweat was beading upon his brow and sliding down his face. He turned to the other side, clutching the sheets as though it was a lifeline.
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“Sorry, Guinevere,” America murmured, taking the kitten off of his shoulder and hugging him close to his chest. Arthur looked up to the Nation’s face, listening to the erratic beating of America’s heart. Whatever that nightmare had been, it must have been bad if it had almost brought the blond to tears. Arthur hesitated before nuzzling his head into America’s chest. He hated it when something bothered his former colony, but pride got in the way most of the time to prevent him from doing anything about it.
They stayed like that until the American felt able to return to sleep. Arthur was curled on his chest once more, but he simply watched the Nation. His ears flickered at the slightest sounds, wondering if maybe Native America had wanted him as a cat to help chase away America’s nightmares, because it seemed as if Arthur couldn’t do that when he was a human.
Oh, America… Arthur thought sadly as he stared at America’s currently peaceful face. He stood and licked the blond’s cheek delicately before blushing when he realized what he had done. The cat shook his head and curled up again, his back facing America.
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Went with Gwen as the nickname 'cause...well...I went with phonetics on that. Sorry if I got it wrong. ._.;
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