71. | you look like a thousand suns
71.
you look like a thousand suns
i wanna be the only one
cobb/arthur (953 words)
I BELIEVE I AM OWED RENTBOY!ARTHUR, HMMM? SEQUEL TO PREVIOUS SCHMOOP.
cobb and arthur glance at each other and back at the cat. it stares at them blankly, ears flicking every now and then.
“so,” arthur says tightly, “we have a cat.”
“yep,” cobb agrees. “that would be what that is. his name is apparently benjamin.” he tilts his head and looks at arthur, whose nose is scrunched up. “please don’t tell me you have fucking allergies. phillipa will kill us if we take him back.”
“she doesn’t have to know he was here,” arthur argues. “and no, no allergies, but look where he is sitting.” cobb looks. he’s sitting on the couch. “under him, cobb.” ah. there are little hairs covering the fabric of the couch and because the cat is white, it shows up startlingly well. “ugh.”
cobb is suddenly finding this whole owning-a-cat thing much more amusing.
“arthur, you agreed to this,” he reminds him, and arthur sighs.
“phillipa was looking at me with that face she has.” cobb knows the one. “and then james chimed in, and what the hell am i supposed to do with two of those faces coming at me like that? of course i fucking agreed. i’m not a perfect man.”
cobb laughs. “it’s just a cat, arthur. he’s not hellbent on your destruction, and phillipa can clean the couch if it bothers you that much. he’ll be her responsibility anyway.”
the cat stands up and stretches, and both of them watch him expectantly. he sits back down and begins washing himself.
“ugh,” arthur says again.
of course, phillipa gets home and is full of conversation about her day and cobb can barely keep up with her when suddenly she’s coming to a complete halt. cobb follows her eyes to where arthur and the cat (benjamin) are having a staring contest. cobb honestly thinks the cat is going to lose.
“daddy,” phillipa says. “oh my god.”
cobb struggles not to laugh. he remembers when something like a pet was like the most amazing thing to ever happen to you. his life has had a few bigger things happen since then, though, he thinks, sobering. a glance at arthur and the mood lifts again; he’s reaching over to edge the cat off the couch.
“IT’S A CAT,” phillipa shouts and rushes towards it, scooping it into her arms (“ah crap, her clothes,” arthur mutters, but doesn’t say anything while she hugs the cat tightly.) and beaming brightly. “daddy, dad, thank you so much.”
“his name is benjamin,” cobb starts.
“yes, yes, and he’s my responsibility and i have to water him and feed him and clean up after him and brush him and keep the couch from getting gross so dad doesn’t have an early heart attack.” phillipa rolls her eyes. “i’ve heard this.”
“i’m not neurotic or anything,” arthur objects. “cat hair everywhere is just so -- unprofessional,” he decides. cobb snorts.
“are we a professional family, then?” he asks, and arthur levels a flat stare at him.
“i’m going to professionally make you sleep on the couch tonight,” he threatens, and cobb smirks at him. he’s heard that one before. arthur glares silently while their daughter coos at the cat and takes him from room to room, showing him around.
“and see here, benji, this is my room! you’ll stay here, okay, and oh, here’s the kitchen and oh look, dad got you a pretty food and water bowl set!”
“how’d she know you bought it?” cobb asks, and arthur is the one who smirks this time.
“because they’re pretty,” phillpa tells him as she wanders back into the kitchen. “you always pick out mismatch-y stuff.”
cobb frowns, but before he can say anything else james bangs through the door. he’d gone home with a friend today to talk about a project, and the mother had offered to bring him over -- it had worked out well, since cobb and arthur weren’t sure how long the whole adopting a pet thing would take.
“i am going to build an amazing volcano and oh my god it’s a cat!”
he sprints to phillipa, who leans over to let him see benjamin more clearly, and they begin a rather heated debate on a good nickname. (“benji,” phillipa says adamantly, and james retorts, “ben! it’s more manly!”)
“dammit,” arthur says from across the room. “there’s cat hair on my favorite jacket.”
after dinner there’s playing with the cat some more, homework, and watching a movie together (a wednesday night ritual; tuesdays are game night) and getting ready for bed. phillipa and james put up a token fight at their curfew, but the excitement of the cat has clearly gotten to them and within minutes of turning of their lights, they’re asleep.
cobb goes into the kitchen to put their glasses of chocolate milk in the dishwasher and to make sure the coffee maker is set for early in the morning (both he and arthur are horrible without morning caffeine). when he comes out of the kitchen again, he stops in his tracks and just stares.
arthur is sitting on the couch with his head tilted back onto the back, eyes closed. his mouth is curved into a small, content smile; his tie is loosened and his vest unbuttoned, and on his lap benjamin is purring loudly, his head tucked over arthur’s hand.
cobb can’t help it. he laughs.
arthur doesn’t even open his eyes, and benjamin’s purrs only get louder, if that’s possible. “fuck off.”
cobb decides to sit on the couch with arthur and the cat instead, letting arthur slide his head onto his shoulder. benjamin meows and cobb grins.
“your suit is so ruined,” he says. arthur snores.
you look like a thousand suns
i wanna be the only one
cobb/arthur (953 words)
I BELIEVE I AM OWED RENTBOY!ARTHUR, HMMM? SEQUEL TO PREVIOUS SCHMOOP.
cobb and arthur glance at each other and back at the cat. it stares at them blankly, ears flicking every now and then.
“so,” arthur says tightly, “we have a cat.”
“yep,” cobb agrees. “that would be what that is. his name is apparently benjamin.” he tilts his head and looks at arthur, whose nose is scrunched up. “please don’t tell me you have fucking allergies. phillipa will kill us if we take him back.”
“she doesn’t have to know he was here,” arthur argues. “and no, no allergies, but look where he is sitting.” cobb looks. he’s sitting on the couch. “under him, cobb.” ah. there are little hairs covering the fabric of the couch and because the cat is white, it shows up startlingly well. “ugh.”
cobb is suddenly finding this whole owning-a-cat thing much more amusing.
“arthur, you agreed to this,” he reminds him, and arthur sighs.
“phillipa was looking at me with that face she has.” cobb knows the one. “and then james chimed in, and what the hell am i supposed to do with two of those faces coming at me like that? of course i fucking agreed. i’m not a perfect man.”
cobb laughs. “it’s just a cat, arthur. he’s not hellbent on your destruction, and phillipa can clean the couch if it bothers you that much. he’ll be her responsibility anyway.”
the cat stands up and stretches, and both of them watch him expectantly. he sits back down and begins washing himself.
“ugh,” arthur says again.
of course, phillipa gets home and is full of conversation about her day and cobb can barely keep up with her when suddenly she’s coming to a complete halt. cobb follows her eyes to where arthur and the cat (benjamin) are having a staring contest. cobb honestly thinks the cat is going to lose.
“daddy,” phillipa says. “oh my god.”
cobb struggles not to laugh. he remembers when something like a pet was like the most amazing thing to ever happen to you. his life has had a few bigger things happen since then, though, he thinks, sobering. a glance at arthur and the mood lifts again; he’s reaching over to edge the cat off the couch.
“IT’S A CAT,” phillipa shouts and rushes towards it, scooping it into her arms (“ah crap, her clothes,” arthur mutters, but doesn’t say anything while she hugs the cat tightly.) and beaming brightly. “daddy, dad, thank you so much.”
“his name is benjamin,” cobb starts.
“yes, yes, and he’s my responsibility and i have to water him and feed him and clean up after him and brush him and keep the couch from getting gross so dad doesn’t have an early heart attack.” phillipa rolls her eyes. “i’ve heard this.”
“i’m not neurotic or anything,” arthur objects. “cat hair everywhere is just so -- unprofessional,” he decides. cobb snorts.
“are we a professional family, then?” he asks, and arthur levels a flat stare at him.
“i’m going to professionally make you sleep on the couch tonight,” he threatens, and cobb smirks at him. he’s heard that one before. arthur glares silently while their daughter coos at the cat and takes him from room to room, showing him around.
“and see here, benji, this is my room! you’ll stay here, okay, and oh, here’s the kitchen and oh look, dad got you a pretty food and water bowl set!”
“how’d she know you bought it?” cobb asks, and arthur is the one who smirks this time.
“because they’re pretty,” phillpa tells him as she wanders back into the kitchen. “you always pick out mismatch-y stuff.”
cobb frowns, but before he can say anything else james bangs through the door. he’d gone home with a friend today to talk about a project, and the mother had offered to bring him over -- it had worked out well, since cobb and arthur weren’t sure how long the whole adopting a pet thing would take.
“i am going to build an amazing volcano and oh my god it’s a cat!”
he sprints to phillipa, who leans over to let him see benjamin more clearly, and they begin a rather heated debate on a good nickname. (“benji,” phillipa says adamantly, and james retorts, “ben! it’s more manly!”)
“dammit,” arthur says from across the room. “there’s cat hair on my favorite jacket.”
after dinner there’s playing with the cat some more, homework, and watching a movie together (a wednesday night ritual; tuesdays are game night) and getting ready for bed. phillipa and james put up a token fight at their curfew, but the excitement of the cat has clearly gotten to them and within minutes of turning of their lights, they’re asleep.
cobb goes into the kitchen to put their glasses of chocolate milk in the dishwasher and to make sure the coffee maker is set for early in the morning (both he and arthur are horrible without morning caffeine). when he comes out of the kitchen again, he stops in his tracks and just stares.
arthur is sitting on the couch with his head tilted back onto the back, eyes closed. his mouth is curved into a small, content smile; his tie is loosened and his vest unbuttoned, and on his lap benjamin is purring loudly, his head tucked over arthur’s hand.
cobb can’t help it. he laughs.
arthur doesn’t even open his eyes, and benjamin’s purrs only get louder, if that’s possible. “fuck off.”
cobb decides to sit on the couch with arthur and the cat instead, letting arthur slide his head onto his shoulder. benjamin meows and cobb grins.
“your suit is so ruined,” he says. arthur snores.