[QAF Fic]: The One With the Cat
Happy Holidays, Flist!
I come bearing fic - QAF, Gus centered fic. I've been working in this one for a *really* long time.
The One With the Cat
[.015 Blue]
Sydney Alexis
Warnings: Mel and Linds bashing. (That seems to be a common theme for me, doesn't it? LOL!)
I am the child Bast. The best and brightest of my litter. The favorite of my mother, I was the one she cleaned the most, played with the most, and the one she eyed and cried for the most when her owner, The Two Legged Idiot, boxed my litter mates and I up and took us to the pet store.
I have been here for several weeks, surrounded by gaping goldfish; hamsters running in endless circles; filthy, yippie puppies that mess their cage; and older dogs that reek of depression as they know they will soon be shipped back to the pound and their own death.
It is not a happy place.
And yet it never ceases to draw an endless stream of Two Leggers. Nearly all of them Beta Breeder Females that enter and bend to the will of their litter as they scream and cry and grab on to caged animals around me without the reverence they should have.
After all, they are in the presence of my greatness.
I have watched all of my litter mates willingly give themselves up to the Two Legger's beastly children. Meowing and purring like common poodles.
No respect for their line!
I have seen the looks of contempt that the store runner gives me every time I'm placed in the hands of heavy handed children. He's displeased that I yowl and claw at those nasty little things to get away.
But I am purebred, still young, and beautiful beyond all comprehension.
The right master will come.
And he does not a day after that little, yappy Pomeranian is quite thankfully adopted.
The man -- very obviously an alpha -- carries himself with importance and a mask of put-upon boredom. It is obvious to me that he has as much interest in being in this place as I do. I would further guess that this trip was decided upon more for those he is accompanying.
The first is a blond haired, Two Legger who smells of paint, paper, and graphite. He is quite obviously the beta of their small pack, but one that is held in high regard by his mate.
They are both holding the hand of their boy-kitten. A shy, quiet, respectful child who, despite obviously wanting to approach the cages lining the walls, is staying obediently beside his parents.
There is an air of wealth and affection that surrounds them that draws and holds my attention.
I sit up in my cage and stare down at the people I will own.
The beta of their pack glances at the cages, and I catch his eye.
I do not meow or yap or turn in circles to catch his attention; I sit with dignity and await them to realize that I. Am. Perfection.
It takes no more than a moment before the blond beta is guiding the boy-kitten towards my cage.
A nervous store clerk is opening it and reaching for me. This time, I allow the action though I do sniff at her disdainfully. Honestly, what was thinking dying her top fur that color of blue? I suppose though it is much better than the grey-blue of a few weeks ago. As if her top fur could ever match my beautiful hue!
"Gentle, Gus," the Blond Beta warns the boy-kitten.
Tiny hands hold me, and pet my perfect fur. Purring with delight, I gently lick the tiny, questing fingers and listen to the boy-kitten giggle, which, in turn, makes the parents smile.
The alpha regards me for a long moment, and I take the time to preen, licking my paw and flattening the fur that my new litter-mate, Gus, has set out of place.
"I like this one, Papa," the boy-kitten says.
The alpha nods once and motions towards the checkout.
Oh, yes. That is far too easy.
My assumptions about my new owners was wholly correct.
Their home is in the country with plenty of trees to sharpen my claws on and voles to chase. There is happiness here and laughter. There is quiet and sunshine.
There is also high quality cat food.
And fish. Beautiful, glorious fish that the beta-male sneaks to me while preparing meals for our pack.
And what a perfect pack indeed!
Gus, my litter-mate, enjoys babbling about pointless things, but he is also excellent at scratching my fur just so. He reads me delightful stories about Cats in Hats -- such a silly notion -- and Grimm's tales. Though he stumbles over some of the words, I find him to be an adequate reader and an intelligent litter-mate.
Justin, the beta of my small pack, is an artist. One who enjoys natural light in his studio which, of course, makes a most marvelous location for afternoon naps. As an added bonus, he has painted and sketched me numerous times. They will, no doubt, fetch large sums when placed in a proper gallery as any respectable art connoisseur would be unable to avoid the draw of my likeness.
The pack member I have the most respect for though is the alpha, Brian. He shows exactly what he is thinking in actions more than words -- something that I respect greatly.
There are other members of the pack as well. Extended members who all bring out different sides of my pack-mates.
There is Ted who smells of linen and loneliness. He is intelligent, thoughtful, and prone to making pithy comments that make the others laugh. Upon seeing me, he scooped me up into his arms, rubbed my fur just so, remarked on what a fine specimen of my breed I was and how lucky my alpha was to have found me.
Oh, yes, I liked Ted a great deal. Even if he did smell of some other, harlot of a cat.
Emmett is enjoyable as well. His personality is rather like his clothing -- bright, shiny, and unafraid. I am rather fond of him as well though more so because he looks like a giant cat-toy at times.
Debbie is loud -- obnoxiously so -- on my poor ears, but often comes bearing food. It is for this that I forgive her for her lack of volume control and for referring to me as 'that damned cat.'
Ben, of course, is one of my favorites if for no other reason than he understand just how perfect I am. I learned this during our first encounter. He took one look at me and began regaling all that would listen about Ancient Egypt, Bast, and how revered the cat was among society there.
He understands history and the reverence that all should still hold for my kin.
Unfortunately, Ben is paired with Comic-Book-Boy. The humans call him Michael, but I just call him My Annoyance. He had the nerve the nerve to suggest that I be ejected from the room because I might scratch his squalling child. As if I would go near that beastly little girl. Always trying to tug on my tail, always trailing after me as if I were the mouse being hunted. It's undignified!
But, by far, the pair that I hate the most are the pair of females. Both smell of Betas trying to present themselves as Alpha. Both reek of jealousy. The blond towards my beta and the brunette after my Alpha.
I do not like either one of them. At all.
They bring unbalance and unhappiness, discord and anger at every turn.
And each visit ends with them claiming my litter mate, Gus, back as if he were their own, as if they have a right to claim what is already mine! The trollops! No better than yapping Pomeranians!
And their departure always leaves my pack morose, the house tense, and the easy happiness of summer all but silenced.
I am unaccustomed to this sickness in my chest and gut that comes from watching my litter mate climb into the back of the beta females' inferior automobile. They take Gus from me -- my Gus.
The seasons change, the ice melts, the chill of winter leaves, the leaves turn green again and heat return.
I can always tell when it is time for my Gus to return because my two, remaining pack mates grow frantic with cleaning and straightening, redecorating, and stocking the kitchen.
Every time Gus returns to me, he is different. Taller, smarter, his voice cracking and growing deeper. Each year his greetings grow less enthusiastic towards me. The years of reading Green Eggs and Ham have passed until I am nothing more than a part of his Father's house.
I blame the female betas for this, and it is a hurt that neither I nor my small pack shall ever forgive them for.
* * *
A/N: The 'blue' label for this one is because the cat is a Blue Russian. I just couldn't really picture them having any other cat.
PS. I have another piece for you as a lagniappe. It's a companion piece to an earlier fic. I wrote it with two different endings -- the soppy/sappy/slightly happy version and the more realistic, slightly angsty ending. I'm partial to the latter, but I liked both and couldn't choose, so I'm leaving it up to you to choose your own adventure. I pasted them into the same post so you can read them both if you so wish.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
[.072 Fixed]
Sydney Alexis
Summary: All actions have consequences. Some are far more reaching than others. Two words changed everything: "I'm pregnant." Companion piece to He. [Gus-centered fic, Lindsay and Sam bashing. The angsty version has slight Brian bashing if you squint really hard. Pairings: Lindsay/Sam; B/J]
[Version One: Slightly Soppy/Happy Ending]
[Version Two: More realistic/angsty ending]
[fanfic100: 76-77/100](Dear Merlin! Will I ever finish this box? LULZ.)
[Big Box of Prompts]
I come bearing fic - QAF, Gus centered fic. I've been working in this one for a *really* long time.
The One With the Cat
[.015 Blue]
Sydney Alexis
Warnings: Mel and Linds bashing. (That seems to be a common theme for me, doesn't it? LOL!)
I am the child Bast. The best and brightest of my litter. The favorite of my mother, I was the one she cleaned the most, played with the most, and the one she eyed and cried for the most when her owner, The Two Legged Idiot, boxed my litter mates and I up and took us to the pet store.
I have been here for several weeks, surrounded by gaping goldfish; hamsters running in endless circles; filthy, yippie puppies that mess their cage; and older dogs that reek of depression as they know they will soon be shipped back to the pound and their own death.
It is not a happy place.
And yet it never ceases to draw an endless stream of Two Leggers. Nearly all of them Beta Breeder Females that enter and bend to the will of their litter as they scream and cry and grab on to caged animals around me without the reverence they should have.
After all, they are in the presence of my greatness.
I have watched all of my litter mates willingly give themselves up to the Two Legger's beastly children. Meowing and purring like common poodles.
No respect for their line!
I have seen the looks of contempt that the store runner gives me every time I'm placed in the hands of heavy handed children. He's displeased that I yowl and claw at those nasty little things to get away.
But I am purebred, still young, and beautiful beyond all comprehension.
The right master will come.
And he does not a day after that little, yappy Pomeranian is quite thankfully adopted.
The man -- very obviously an alpha -- carries himself with importance and a mask of put-upon boredom. It is obvious to me that he has as much interest in being in this place as I do. I would further guess that this trip was decided upon more for those he is accompanying.
The first is a blond haired, Two Legger who smells of paint, paper, and graphite. He is quite obviously the beta of their small pack, but one that is held in high regard by his mate.
They are both holding the hand of their boy-kitten. A shy, quiet, respectful child who, despite obviously wanting to approach the cages lining the walls, is staying obediently beside his parents.
There is an air of wealth and affection that surrounds them that draws and holds my attention.
I sit up in my cage and stare down at the people I will own.
The beta of their pack glances at the cages, and I catch his eye.
I do not meow or yap or turn in circles to catch his attention; I sit with dignity and await them to realize that I. Am. Perfection.
It takes no more than a moment before the blond beta is guiding the boy-kitten towards my cage.
A nervous store clerk is opening it and reaching for me. This time, I allow the action though I do sniff at her disdainfully. Honestly, what was thinking dying her top fur that color of blue? I suppose though it is much better than the grey-blue of a few weeks ago. As if her top fur could ever match my beautiful hue!
"Gentle, Gus," the Blond Beta warns the boy-kitten.
Tiny hands hold me, and pet my perfect fur. Purring with delight, I gently lick the tiny, questing fingers and listen to the boy-kitten giggle, which, in turn, makes the parents smile.
The alpha regards me for a long moment, and I take the time to preen, licking my paw and flattening the fur that my new litter-mate, Gus, has set out of place.
"I like this one, Papa," the boy-kitten says.
The alpha nods once and motions towards the checkout.
Oh, yes. That is far too easy.
My assumptions about my new owners was wholly correct.
Their home is in the country with plenty of trees to sharpen my claws on and voles to chase. There is happiness here and laughter. There is quiet and sunshine.
There is also high quality cat food.
And fish. Beautiful, glorious fish that the beta-male sneaks to me while preparing meals for our pack.
And what a perfect pack indeed!
Gus, my litter-mate, enjoys babbling about pointless things, but he is also excellent at scratching my fur just so. He reads me delightful stories about Cats in Hats -- such a silly notion -- and Grimm's tales. Though he stumbles over some of the words, I find him to be an adequate reader and an intelligent litter-mate.
Justin, the beta of my small pack, is an artist. One who enjoys natural light in his studio which, of course, makes a most marvelous location for afternoon naps. As an added bonus, he has painted and sketched me numerous times. They will, no doubt, fetch large sums when placed in a proper gallery as any respectable art connoisseur would be unable to avoid the draw of my likeness.
The pack member I have the most respect for though is the alpha, Brian. He shows exactly what he is thinking in actions more than words -- something that I respect greatly.
There are other members of the pack as well. Extended members who all bring out different sides of my pack-mates.
There is Ted who smells of linen and loneliness. He is intelligent, thoughtful, and prone to making pithy comments that make the others laugh. Upon seeing me, he scooped me up into his arms, rubbed my fur just so, remarked on what a fine specimen of my breed I was and how lucky my alpha was to have found me.
Oh, yes, I liked Ted a great deal. Even if he did smell of some other, harlot of a cat.
Emmett is enjoyable as well. His personality is rather like his clothing -- bright, shiny, and unafraid. I am rather fond of him as well though more so because he looks like a giant cat-toy at times.
Debbie is loud -- obnoxiously so -- on my poor ears, but often comes bearing food. It is for this that I forgive her for her lack of volume control and for referring to me as 'that damned cat.'
Ben, of course, is one of my favorites if for no other reason than he understand just how perfect I am. I learned this during our first encounter. He took one look at me and began regaling all that would listen about Ancient Egypt, Bast, and how revered the cat was among society there.
He understands history and the reverence that all should still hold for my kin.
Unfortunately, Ben is paired with Comic-Book-Boy. The humans call him Michael, but I just call him My Annoyance. He had the nerve the nerve to suggest that I be ejected from the room because I might scratch his squalling child. As if I would go near that beastly little girl. Always trying to tug on my tail, always trailing after me as if I were the mouse being hunted. It's undignified!
But, by far, the pair that I hate the most are the pair of females. Both smell of Betas trying to present themselves as Alpha. Both reek of jealousy. The blond towards my beta and the brunette after my Alpha.
I do not like either one of them. At all.
They bring unbalance and unhappiness, discord and anger at every turn.
And each visit ends with them claiming my litter mate, Gus, back as if he were their own, as if they have a right to claim what is already mine! The trollops! No better than yapping Pomeranians!
And their departure always leaves my pack morose, the house tense, and the easy happiness of summer all but silenced.
I am unaccustomed to this sickness in my chest and gut that comes from watching my litter mate climb into the back of the beta females' inferior automobile. They take Gus from me -- my Gus.
The seasons change, the ice melts, the chill of winter leaves, the leaves turn green again and heat return.
I can always tell when it is time for my Gus to return because my two, remaining pack mates grow frantic with cleaning and straightening, redecorating, and stocking the kitchen.
Every time Gus returns to me, he is different. Taller, smarter, his voice cracking and growing deeper. Each year his greetings grow less enthusiastic towards me. The years of reading Green Eggs and Ham have passed until I am nothing more than a part of his Father's house.
I blame the female betas for this, and it is a hurt that neither I nor my small pack shall ever forgive them for.
* * *
A/N: The 'blue' label for this one is because the cat is a Blue Russian. I just couldn't really picture them having any other cat.
PS. I have another piece for you as a lagniappe. It's a companion piece to an earlier fic. I wrote it with two different endings -- the soppy/sappy/slightly happy version and the more realistic, slightly angsty ending. I'm partial to the latter, but I liked both and couldn't choose, so I'm leaving it up to you to choose your own adventure. I pasted them into the same post so you can read them both if you so wish.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
[.072 Fixed]
Sydney Alexis
Summary: All actions have consequences. Some are far more reaching than others. Two words changed everything: "I'm pregnant." Companion piece to He. [Gus-centered fic, Lindsay and Sam bashing. The angsty version has slight Brian bashing if you squint really hard. Pairings: Lindsay/Sam; B/J]
[Version One: Slightly Soppy/Happy Ending]
[Version Two: More realistic/angsty ending]
[fanfic100: 76-77/100](Dear Merlin! Will I ever finish this box? LULZ.)
[Big Box of Prompts]