Fic: Neal vs. the LOL Kitten
Title: Neal vs. the LOL Kitten
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Peter, LOL Kitten Henri
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Origin story. Extreme, schmoopy cuteness ahoy. Srsly, check your blood glucose levels before reading.
Word Count: 2,300
Summary: Neal brings home a tiny ball of black and white fuzz - but it’s only temporary.
A/N: For my pal lauracollared, who posted the animated gif (by alxbngala) at the end of this story on her Tumblr, and made me think, “ACK! Neal and bb!Henri.”
Part 13 (yikes!) of the Neal vs. the LOL Cat series.
----
1.
“Hey, little guy, we’re home.”
Neal unbuttoned his coat to allow the tiny ball of black and white fuzz to poke his head out into the open.
“Dis ur hole haus, Meestair?” the tiny voice asked.
Neal could feel the tiny body still shaking intermittently, and so hiked his arm up to hold the kitten closer to him. “Just this part of it - the rest of the place is owned by a nice lady named June.”
“Iz big,” the kitten - who had introduced himself earlier as Henri - said, and buried his face against Neal's shirt as if hiding from the room.
“I think it’s pretty cozy. You hungry? I picked up some cat food at the bodega around the corner, but I’m not sure it’s all that good.” Neal frowned at the small can he pulled from his pocket - he wasn’t at all convinced of the quality of a brand that clearly didn’t take itself too seriously if it was called, “Friskies.”
“I no,” Henri replied.
“OK. Want me to set you down? I’d like to get changed out of my suit.”
Henri’s tiny - and surprisingly sharp - claws pierced the fabric of Neal's shirt. “OK,” he clearly lied.
“OK,” Neal said indulgently, carrying the kitten with him as he made his way to his closet. When he got there, he gently extricated the cat from inside his jacket and set him down atop a dresser, then changed into a pair of khakis and a sweater and carried Henri back into the main part of his apartment, nestled against his belly. Neal carried the cat to the kitchen and set him on the counter while he made himself a sandwich, then picked up cat and plate and moved to the living room, setting Henri down on the floor while he ate.
“You OK?” Neal asked, noting the cat’s stiff little body; he was lying crouched down, as if poised to spring away at any second.
“I big kitty.”
“Sure you are, but it’s OK if you’re a little weirded out by being in a strange place, you know.”
“Mebbe. A leetle.”
“You want to come up here with me?”
Apparently he did, because Henri didn’t respond or wait for Neal to pick him up, he just scrambled up Neal's pant leg until he was sitting beside him on the couch.
“Ow.”
“I sorry.”
“Want some turkey?” Neal held out a bit of meat for the kitten, who took the morsel in his lips and mouthed at it experimentally, dropped it, chewed on it, dropped it again, then finally managed to swallow it. “You like that?”
“Dank u Meestair. Yes.”
He was a polite kitten, Neal would give him that. The fact that he talked Neal had already filed away to be thought about later. He handed him another small piece of turkey. “You can call me Neal if you want.”
“Nealz.”
“Neal.”
“Nealz.”
Neal studied his tiny kitten mouth as he pronounced the words - it appeared that his whiskers and the shape of his mouth combined to cause his bizarre speech patterns. The vaguely European accent was a mystery, though. He wondered what Moz would make of him. “Sounds good. Should I get you some real cat food? I think you should eat something - it’s been a trying day.”
“Iz good,” Henri agreed and Neal returned to the kitchen and put about a quarter of the can onto a tiny, china saucer and set it on the couch beside the kitten.
“Om nom nom.”
“You’re done already?”
“Moar?”
“Sure.”
By the time Henri had eaten his fill, the can was 75% empty, and he lay on the couch on his side with his tiny belly round and full. Neal had an irrational desire to bury his nose in the soft fur and quashed it.
“You were pretty hungry, huh?”
“De manz no feedz regularrr,” Henri explained in a tone of voice so void of affect it clenched at Neal's heart. He hated to think of the neglect poor Henri and the other cats that had been rescued today had endured.
“Well, you’re safe now, Henri.”
“U nice manz, Nealz.”
“You’re pretty nice yourself. That was awfully brave of you to draw the man’s fire away from me and my friends earlier today.”
“He bad manz.”
“He is, and he’s going to be in prison for a long, long time thanks to you.”
The White Collar unit’s latest case involved a pair of burglars who used these so-called LOL Cats to help them break into private homes - a cat burglar who used actual cats. Thanks to Neal's undercover work, they’d caught up to them and brought it all a successful if nearly-violent conclusion earlier that day. Young Henri had distracted the suspect after he’d pulled a gun on Neal and Peter, allowing Peter to disarm the guy and then arrest him. The remaining cats - three in all - had been taken temporarily by the Humane Society, but Henri was so frightened, Neal took him home temporarily until better arrangements could be found.
“My Mama teachez me de right and de wrong.”
“She did a good job. Do you not know where she is, your mother?”
Henri’s eyes got impossibly wide and limpid. “I no see her 4 long timez. De manz take me away.”
“No? Well, maybe we can look for her someday.”
Henri was silent, and Neal didn’t know if the cat believed him or not. Neal didn’t know if he believed it, either - how do you find a forgotten kitten’s mother?
----
Neal was just dozing off when he felt a slight tugging on his covers. Soon, Henri had curled up against his chest.
“I don’t know how I feel about you sleeping on my bed.”
“It lonely in de basket,” Henri said in a small voice. Neal had filled a small basket with a fleecy blanket.
“Well, I suppose since it’s your first night, it’s OK. But just this once.”
“OK, Nealz. Just de once.”
2.
“Here’s the cat litter.”
“That stuff? Peter, it’s not the non-tracking brand I asked you to get.”
“The other one’s twice as much, Neal.”
“And the dust’ll get on his little paws and then he’ll lick them, because he’s a cat and they do that all the time. You don’t want to be responsible for him getting all of that into his little tummy, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Peter grumbled and went off in search of the premium litter.
----
“Jeez, Neal how much does that food cost, anyway?”
“I dunno - sixty bucks a bag?”
“Sixty bucks?! Neal, come on, you can’t afford all of this.”
“I can afford plenty. Besides, this stuff’s made from real chicken - not ground up bones and corn and owl feces or whatever. Grain-free. I’m not going to put in his little belly what I wouldn’t put into mine.”
“It’s not as if you’re keeping him. Need I remind you that you yourself said it was temporary when you took him home.”
“Ooo - look at these little springs!”
“Only two days, and he’s got you wrapped around his little paw.”
“He’s had a rough time of it, Peter. Alone in a strange city - so young. It’s hard.”
“Uh-huh. Over-identify much?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Hey - grab that fresh catnip over there, would you?”
3.
Neal heard a crash and a yelp and ran up the remaining flight of stairs to his apartment to find his door standing ajar. Inside he found Henri, hissing and bushy-tailed on the book shelf at about eye level and Bugsy barking up at him, a houseplant smashed on the floor next to the dog.
“Henri! Bugsy!”
Bugsy continued barking, so Neal yelled at him once more, and he quieted. “Bad dog!”
Bugsy whined.
“Do you want to tell me just what the heck is going on here?” Neal demanded, hands on his hips and not at all disturbed by the fact he was interrogating a small dog.
“He chasez me! U iz bad dog!” Henri cried.
“That is not good host behavior, mister,” Neal informed Bugsy, who looked thoroughly mortified. Neal pointed at the door. “Now go to your pillow and think about what you’ve done.”
Bugsy whined again and then walked sullenly from the room.
Henri was still mewing and breathing heavily, so Neal picked him up from the shelf and held him close. “Shs-shh-shh. It’s OK. What happened?”
“De door iz opened, so I go down de stairzez and dere is de bouncy ball.”
“I think I’m getting it.”
“Dat dog iz no good!” Henri hugged Neal's hand.
“I think we need to just accept that Bugsy is not a good sharer.”
“Dogz iz bad!”
“Well, let’s not paint them all with the same brush - my friend Peter has a very nice dog you should meet some day. He likes kitties.”
“I tink he like to eat de kitties!”
“He does not. Besides, you know, one day you’ll be all grown up and you’ll probably be as big as Bugsy. Then we’ll see who’s boss.”
“I weel? I be big!”
Henri began to squirm excitedly in Neal's arms, until he was forced to put him down. He promptly went over to the pile of dirt from the smashed flowerpot and squatted.
“Henri - no! I just bought you a litter box!”
4.
“Henri, come on - movie night!”
“Moobie night - yiss!” Henri did an excited little dance on his paws then stopped and sat, cocking his head up at Neal. “What’s a moobie?”
Neal laughed and padded barefoot down the hall towards the main part of his apartment, Henri scampering after him. “A movie is a recording of a story that you watch. Sometimes it’s about real people, sometimes it’s about made-up people.”
“And kittens?”
“And kittens. The best part is we get to sit in our jammies and have snacks.”
“Temptayshons!” Henri said happily and ran ahead.
Neal went to his fridge, pulled out some pumpkin pie El had sent to him through Peter, and a can of whipped cream. The latter he shook vigorously before turning it upside down and squirting a generous amount atop the piece of pie he’d sliced for himself. He winced as a set of needle-sharp claws pawed at the back of his leg. He bent and lifted Henri up.
“What iz dat?” the kitten asked, wide-eyed as he took in the embarrassingly large cloud of whipped cream Neal had doled out for himself.
“Whipped cream. My secret indulgence.”
Henri’s nose wrinkled slightly and his whiskers bobbed up and down. “It smellz good, Nealz!”
“Tastes good too, here.” Neal took a bit of the cream on his fingertip and booped Henri on the nose, leaving a small deposit of the stuff there. Henri’s eyes crossed comically even as he scowled at Neal, but when he licked at the cream, his eyes widened.
“I liek de whippy cream,” the kitten informed Neal somberly, as if it was an important fact.
“Good to know,” Neal said, carrying the kitten and his dessert over to the couch, where they watched an Aristocats and Puss in Boots double feature before Henri fell asleep on Neal's chest.
5.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
Neal set down his paint brush and wiped his hands on a cloth, then went to answer his door. Henri ran under the bed as was his habit.
“Peter! What a nice surprise.”
“Hey, Neal - sorry to just show up like this on a Saturday.”
“I was just messing around,” Neal said, stepping aside to let him in, then closing the door. “What brings you to Manhattan?”
“Running some errands,” Peter said, but the look on his face told a different story.
“Out with it,” Neal said, feeling uneasy for some reason.
“The lady from the LOL Cat sanctuary up in New Haven called - they may have a spot for little Henri up there. She said we could bring him up on Monday.”
“Mon-Monday? That… that’s… So soon?”
Neal felt the blood drain out of his face. He didn’t know how to feel about this. Sure, he’d originally said that Henri staying with him was a temporary thing, and it had only been a week, but he’d gotten used to having the little guy around. What’s more, Henri was used to him - was it fair to uproot him again, after everything he’d been through, after being stolen almost before he was weaned and forced into a life of crime?
“You do still want to get rid of him, right Neal? Just the other day you said to me again that this was temporary.”
Didn’t mean he actually meant it. “I know, but…”
“And didn’t they say that the LOL Cat breed is endangered - you sure you want that responsibility? It’d mean being tied down, you know, and taking him to the vet and caring for him. And cats can live a long time.”
“I am aware of the responsibilities of pet ownership.”
“And what’re ya gonna do when the anklet comes off? Weren’t you going to go to Europe and Asia - flex your inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of pretty girls?”
He had said that, yes, he had. But that was months ago, before Cape Verde, and before he realized how much having a warm, furry body running to greet him when he came home meant to him.
“No, Peter, I don’t think I want that anymore.”
Neal thought he saw a smile playing around Peter’s mouth, but he turned his head and Neal couldn’t see his face at all. He definitely heard the small, “Yippeez!” emanating from under his bed.
“You’re saying you want to keep Henri, then?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
----
Here is the gif that inspired this story:
Image Credit: alxbngala
Thank you for your time.
Next story: LOLCat Henri vs. the Meaning of Thanksgiving
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal, Peter, LOL Kitten Henri
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Origin story. Extreme, schmoopy cuteness ahoy. Srsly, check your blood glucose levels before reading.
Word Count: 2,300
Summary: Neal brings home a tiny ball of black and white fuzz - but it’s only temporary.
A/N: For my pal lauracollared, who posted the animated gif (by alxbngala) at the end of this story on her Tumblr, and made me think, “ACK! Neal and bb!Henri.”
Part 13 (yikes!) of the Neal vs. the LOL Cat series.
----
1.
“Hey, little guy, we’re home.”
Neal unbuttoned his coat to allow the tiny ball of black and white fuzz to poke his head out into the open.
“Dis ur hole haus, Meestair?” the tiny voice asked.
Neal could feel the tiny body still shaking intermittently, and so hiked his arm up to hold the kitten closer to him. “Just this part of it - the rest of the place is owned by a nice lady named June.”
“Iz big,” the kitten - who had introduced himself earlier as Henri - said, and buried his face against Neal's shirt as if hiding from the room.
“I think it’s pretty cozy. You hungry? I picked up some cat food at the bodega around the corner, but I’m not sure it’s all that good.” Neal frowned at the small can he pulled from his pocket - he wasn’t at all convinced of the quality of a brand that clearly didn’t take itself too seriously if it was called, “Friskies.”
“I no,” Henri replied.
“OK. Want me to set you down? I’d like to get changed out of my suit.”
Henri’s tiny - and surprisingly sharp - claws pierced the fabric of Neal's shirt. “OK,” he clearly lied.
“OK,” Neal said indulgently, carrying the kitten with him as he made his way to his closet. When he got there, he gently extricated the cat from inside his jacket and set him down atop a dresser, then changed into a pair of khakis and a sweater and carried Henri back into the main part of his apartment, nestled against his belly. Neal carried the cat to the kitchen and set him on the counter while he made himself a sandwich, then picked up cat and plate and moved to the living room, setting Henri down on the floor while he ate.
“You OK?” Neal asked, noting the cat’s stiff little body; he was lying crouched down, as if poised to spring away at any second.
“I big kitty.”
“Sure you are, but it’s OK if you’re a little weirded out by being in a strange place, you know.”
“Mebbe. A leetle.”
“You want to come up here with me?”
Apparently he did, because Henri didn’t respond or wait for Neal to pick him up, he just scrambled up Neal's pant leg until he was sitting beside him on the couch.
“Ow.”
“I sorry.”
“Want some turkey?” Neal held out a bit of meat for the kitten, who took the morsel in his lips and mouthed at it experimentally, dropped it, chewed on it, dropped it again, then finally managed to swallow it. “You like that?”
“Dank u Meestair. Yes.”
He was a polite kitten, Neal would give him that. The fact that he talked Neal had already filed away to be thought about later. He handed him another small piece of turkey. “You can call me Neal if you want.”
“Nealz.”
“Neal.”
“Nealz.”
Neal studied his tiny kitten mouth as he pronounced the words - it appeared that his whiskers and the shape of his mouth combined to cause his bizarre speech patterns. The vaguely European accent was a mystery, though. He wondered what Moz would make of him. “Sounds good. Should I get you some real cat food? I think you should eat something - it’s been a trying day.”
“Iz good,” Henri agreed and Neal returned to the kitchen and put about a quarter of the can onto a tiny, china saucer and set it on the couch beside the kitten.
“Om nom nom.”
“You’re done already?”
“Moar?”
“Sure.”
By the time Henri had eaten his fill, the can was 75% empty, and he lay on the couch on his side with his tiny belly round and full. Neal had an irrational desire to bury his nose in the soft fur and quashed it.
“You were pretty hungry, huh?”
“De manz no feedz regularrr,” Henri explained in a tone of voice so void of affect it clenched at Neal's heart. He hated to think of the neglect poor Henri and the other cats that had been rescued today had endured.
“Well, you’re safe now, Henri.”
“U nice manz, Nealz.”
“You’re pretty nice yourself. That was awfully brave of you to draw the man’s fire away from me and my friends earlier today.”
“He bad manz.”
“He is, and he’s going to be in prison for a long, long time thanks to you.”
The White Collar unit’s latest case involved a pair of burglars who used these so-called LOL Cats to help them break into private homes - a cat burglar who used actual cats. Thanks to Neal's undercover work, they’d caught up to them and brought it all a successful if nearly-violent conclusion earlier that day. Young Henri had distracted the suspect after he’d pulled a gun on Neal and Peter, allowing Peter to disarm the guy and then arrest him. The remaining cats - three in all - had been taken temporarily by the Humane Society, but Henri was so frightened, Neal took him home temporarily until better arrangements could be found.
“My Mama teachez me de right and de wrong.”
“She did a good job. Do you not know where she is, your mother?”
Henri’s eyes got impossibly wide and limpid. “I no see her 4 long timez. De manz take me away.”
“No? Well, maybe we can look for her someday.”
Henri was silent, and Neal didn’t know if the cat believed him or not. Neal didn’t know if he believed it, either - how do you find a forgotten kitten’s mother?
----
Neal was just dozing off when he felt a slight tugging on his covers. Soon, Henri had curled up against his chest.
“I don’t know how I feel about you sleeping on my bed.”
“It lonely in de basket,” Henri said in a small voice. Neal had filled a small basket with a fleecy blanket.
“Well, I suppose since it’s your first night, it’s OK. But just this once.”
“OK, Nealz. Just de once.”
2.
“Here’s the cat litter.”
“That stuff? Peter, it’s not the non-tracking brand I asked you to get.”
“The other one’s twice as much, Neal.”
“And the dust’ll get on his little paws and then he’ll lick them, because he’s a cat and they do that all the time. You don’t want to be responsible for him getting all of that into his little tummy, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Peter grumbled and went off in search of the premium litter.
----
“Jeez, Neal how much does that food cost, anyway?”
“I dunno - sixty bucks a bag?”
“Sixty bucks?! Neal, come on, you can’t afford all of this.”
“I can afford plenty. Besides, this stuff’s made from real chicken - not ground up bones and corn and owl feces or whatever. Grain-free. I’m not going to put in his little belly what I wouldn’t put into mine.”
“It’s not as if you’re keeping him. Need I remind you that you yourself said it was temporary when you took him home.”
“Ooo - look at these little springs!”
“Only two days, and he’s got you wrapped around his little paw.”
“He’s had a rough time of it, Peter. Alone in a strange city - so young. It’s hard.”
“Uh-huh. Over-identify much?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Hey - grab that fresh catnip over there, would you?”
3.
Neal heard a crash and a yelp and ran up the remaining flight of stairs to his apartment to find his door standing ajar. Inside he found Henri, hissing and bushy-tailed on the book shelf at about eye level and Bugsy barking up at him, a houseplant smashed on the floor next to the dog.
“Henri! Bugsy!”
Bugsy continued barking, so Neal yelled at him once more, and he quieted. “Bad dog!”
Bugsy whined.
“Do you want to tell me just what the heck is going on here?” Neal demanded, hands on his hips and not at all disturbed by the fact he was interrogating a small dog.
“He chasez me! U iz bad dog!” Henri cried.
“That is not good host behavior, mister,” Neal informed Bugsy, who looked thoroughly mortified. Neal pointed at the door. “Now go to your pillow and think about what you’ve done.”
Bugsy whined again and then walked sullenly from the room.
Henri was still mewing and breathing heavily, so Neal picked him up from the shelf and held him close. “Shs-shh-shh. It’s OK. What happened?”
“De door iz opened, so I go down de stairzez and dere is de bouncy ball.”
“I think I’m getting it.”
“Dat dog iz no good!” Henri hugged Neal's hand.
“I think we need to just accept that Bugsy is not a good sharer.”
“Dogz iz bad!”
“Well, let’s not paint them all with the same brush - my friend Peter has a very nice dog you should meet some day. He likes kitties.”
“I tink he like to eat de kitties!”
“He does not. Besides, you know, one day you’ll be all grown up and you’ll probably be as big as Bugsy. Then we’ll see who’s boss.”
“I weel? I be big!”
Henri began to squirm excitedly in Neal's arms, until he was forced to put him down. He promptly went over to the pile of dirt from the smashed flowerpot and squatted.
“Henri - no! I just bought you a litter box!”
4.
“Henri, come on - movie night!”
“Moobie night - yiss!” Henri did an excited little dance on his paws then stopped and sat, cocking his head up at Neal. “What’s a moobie?”
Neal laughed and padded barefoot down the hall towards the main part of his apartment, Henri scampering after him. “A movie is a recording of a story that you watch. Sometimes it’s about real people, sometimes it’s about made-up people.”
“And kittens?”
“And kittens. The best part is we get to sit in our jammies and have snacks.”
“Temptayshons!” Henri said happily and ran ahead.
Neal went to his fridge, pulled out some pumpkin pie El had sent to him through Peter, and a can of whipped cream. The latter he shook vigorously before turning it upside down and squirting a generous amount atop the piece of pie he’d sliced for himself. He winced as a set of needle-sharp claws pawed at the back of his leg. He bent and lifted Henri up.
“What iz dat?” the kitten asked, wide-eyed as he took in the embarrassingly large cloud of whipped cream Neal had doled out for himself.
“Whipped cream. My secret indulgence.”
Henri’s nose wrinkled slightly and his whiskers bobbed up and down. “It smellz good, Nealz!”
“Tastes good too, here.” Neal took a bit of the cream on his fingertip and booped Henri on the nose, leaving a small deposit of the stuff there. Henri’s eyes crossed comically even as he scowled at Neal, but when he licked at the cream, his eyes widened.
“I liek de whippy cream,” the kitten informed Neal somberly, as if it was an important fact.
“Good to know,” Neal said, carrying the kitten and his dessert over to the couch, where they watched an Aristocats and Puss in Boots double feature before Henri fell asleep on Neal's chest.
5.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
Neal set down his paint brush and wiped his hands on a cloth, then went to answer his door. Henri ran under the bed as was his habit.
“Peter! What a nice surprise.”
“Hey, Neal - sorry to just show up like this on a Saturday.”
“I was just messing around,” Neal said, stepping aside to let him in, then closing the door. “What brings you to Manhattan?”
“Running some errands,” Peter said, but the look on his face told a different story.
“Out with it,” Neal said, feeling uneasy for some reason.
“The lady from the LOL Cat sanctuary up in New Haven called - they may have a spot for little Henri up there. She said we could bring him up on Monday.”
“Mon-Monday? That… that’s… So soon?”
Neal felt the blood drain out of his face. He didn’t know how to feel about this. Sure, he’d originally said that Henri staying with him was a temporary thing, and it had only been a week, but he’d gotten used to having the little guy around. What’s more, Henri was used to him - was it fair to uproot him again, after everything he’d been through, after being stolen almost before he was weaned and forced into a life of crime?
“You do still want to get rid of him, right Neal? Just the other day you said to me again that this was temporary.”
Didn’t mean he actually meant it. “I know, but…”
“And didn’t they say that the LOL Cat breed is endangered - you sure you want that responsibility? It’d mean being tied down, you know, and taking him to the vet and caring for him. And cats can live a long time.”
“I am aware of the responsibilities of pet ownership.”
“And what’re ya gonna do when the anklet comes off? Weren’t you going to go to Europe and Asia - flex your inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of pretty girls?”
He had said that, yes, he had. But that was months ago, before Cape Verde, and before he realized how much having a warm, furry body running to greet him when he came home meant to him.
“No, Peter, I don’t think I want that anymore.”
Neal thought he saw a smile playing around Peter’s mouth, but he turned his head and Neal couldn’t see his face at all. He definitely heard the small, “Yippeez!” emanating from under his bed.
“You’re saying you want to keep Henri, then?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
----
Here is the gif that inspired this story:
Image Credit: alxbngala
Thank you for your time.
Next story: LOLCat Henri vs. the Meaning of Thanksgiving