USUK - The Green Ey'd Monster, or Englandcat Is Watching You Fornicate [1c/1]
anonymous
September 12 2011, 02:57:57 UTC
"Just because some of us have had our balls cut off doesn't mean we have to spoil it for everyone else," America grumbled. "Creeper-cat. Why the hell were you watching us, anyway?"
Whittington ignored him, and scratched behind his ear with such vigor that his collar tags jangled. He then turned his attention to the foot he had used to scratch his ear, cleaning between his toes with exaggerated daintiness.
The sound of the teakettle whistling in the kitchen made America want to punch a hole through the back of the couch. Instead, he settled for flipping off the cat (who continued to ignore him) and swinging his legs off the couch, padding across the room to retrieve his sad little pile of clothing.
He shook out his boxers and jeans, not really wanting to admit defeat by putting them back on, but before he could decide one way or the other England reappeared with a steaming mug in one hand and a damp dishcloth in the other. He stopped short when he saw America, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember what America was doing in his house. After a long moment of thought, or something approximating thought, he shrugged and kept walking toward the door that led to the hall...and the stairs.
"Y' coming?" he said, over his shoulder, as he left the room.
America's eyes lit up, and he started to follow -- and only just managed to dive forward and grab Whittington by the scruff as the cat leapt down from the couch and made as if to follow his master out of the room as well.
"He was talking to me, dumbass," he said, holding the cat up to look him in the eye. "You're spending the night down here."
Whittington's eyes were bright green, almost the same color as England's, and the look of pure disdain in them was like distilled essence of pissed-off England -- that contemptuous, sneering expression that America hated most. He felt no remorse as he carried the cat out of the living room, down the hall to the bathroom where the litter box was, and deposited his erstwhile rival on the cold tile floor before quickly shutting the door.
"Fucking stay there," he muttered as he shuffled off to England's bedroom. He was going to have that cuddle, damn it, and no creeper-cat was going to get in his way.
Re: USUK - The Green Ey'd Monster, or Englandcat Is Watching You Fornicate [1c/1]
anonymous
September 13 2011, 10:23:38 UTC
For me as a cat owner, this was probably even more enjoyable than for the other anons - I can so see my cat doing this, since he is by nature a terrible tsundere. Were I not at work I´m sure I would laugh loudly, it was delightfully funny and I loved England grumpy horniness in this.
Whittington ignored him, and scratched behind his ear with such vigor that his collar tags jangled. He then turned his attention to the foot he had used to scratch his ear, cleaning between his toes with exaggerated daintiness.
The sound of the teakettle whistling in the kitchen made America want to punch a hole through the back of the couch. Instead, he settled for flipping off the cat (who continued to ignore him) and swinging his legs off the couch, padding across the room to retrieve his sad little pile of clothing.
He shook out his boxers and jeans, not really wanting to admit defeat by putting them back on, but before he could decide one way or the other England reappeared with a steaming mug in one hand and a damp dishcloth in the other. He stopped short when he saw America, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember what America was doing in his house. After a long moment of thought, or something approximating thought, he shrugged and kept walking toward the door that led to the hall...and the stairs.
"Y' coming?" he said, over his shoulder, as he left the room.
America's eyes lit up, and he started to follow -- and only just managed to dive forward and grab Whittington by the scruff as the cat leapt down from the couch and made as if to follow his master out of the room as well.
"He was talking to me, dumbass," he said, holding the cat up to look him in the eye. "You're spending the night down here."
Whittington's eyes were bright green, almost the same color as England's, and the look of pure disdain in them was like distilled essence of pissed-off England -- that contemptuous, sneering expression that America hated most. He felt no remorse as he carried the cat out of the living room, down the hall to the bathroom where the litter box was, and deposited his erstwhile rival on the cold tile floor before quickly shutting the door.
"Fucking stay there," he muttered as he shuffled off to England's bedroom. He was going to have that cuddle, damn it, and no creeper-cat was going to get in his way.
- fin -
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At least he got his cuddles?
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2) i want "Englandcat is watching you fornicate" on a tshirt
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