White Collar fic: Like Cats and Dogs
So, this ... is not the story I was trying to write for whitecollarhc. That one just won't go anywhere, leaving me at the 11th hour with nothing to post. But, wait! This one was actually written as a 
fandom_stocking stuffer, but I hadn't added it to anyone's stocking yet (I was still dithering on who to inflict it on give it to), and technically there's h/c in it, so I realized that it would totally work for this! Not only that, but I can also count it for the wildcard square on my h/c bingo card (as "drowning") and get one step closer to a bingo. :D
Title: Like Cats and Dogs
Fandom: White Collar
Word Count: 1800
Warning: Total AU (they're animals)
Summary: Kate's only problem with having a pet cat is that the neighbor's dog won't stop chasing him. For whitecollarhc's Advent calendar, and for the wild card square on my
hc_bingo card.
The kitten turns up on Kate's doorstep one day. He's about four months old, a pretty little black-and-white tuxedo kitty with blue eyes. He's wild and wary, but he's not starving, and Kate soon discovers why: because he's managed to charm every person on the block into giving him food. Trying to live-trap him turns out to be impossible (she's never met a feral cat that's so good at avoiding traps), but he loves to be petted, as long as he is the one to initiate it.
And he likes Kate best of everyone on their street. Soon she realizes that she's adopted the kitten, or rather, he's adopted her. She names him Neal, and hopes to train him to be an indoor cat, but it doesn't work: he just keeps getting out. Even when she thinks she's shut all the doors and windows, somehow he ends up in the backyard, and she'll just catch a glimpse of a white-tipped tail vanishing over the fence.
(The first time he got out, she was sure she'd never see him again. But he was back the next day, affectionate and purring, as if he'd never been gone. She can't stop thinking about all the things that could happen to him: the cars and owls and especially the next-door neighbor's German shepherd, which looks like it could eat him in two bites.)
But Neal just isn't happy as an indoor cat, and she can't make him stay inside anyway. So she buys him a nice little blue collar with tags on it, so at least people will know he's not a stray. The first couple of times she puts it on him, he gets it off right away -- it's like he can undo the buckle or something. But then he starts to like it. Neal, like all cats, grooms himself constantly, and if Kate didn't know any better, she'd think that he was admiring his own collar at times.
She just wishes he'd stay out of Elizabeth Mitchell's yard. She never had any problem with Elizabeth as a next-door neighbor until she got a cat (or the cat got her). But Elizabeth has a dog -- a big dog. He's a very sweet dog, the sort of dog that looks scary and remains aloof at first, but will become your most loyal friend if you give him a chance to get to know you. However, the one thing the dog will not do is stop chasing Neal.
Elizabeth doesn't even seem to believe it's a problem. "Oh, Peter's only playing," she says. "He won't hurt your cat. He's a very gentle dog."
Kate gives the two animals a very skeptical look. At the moment, Peter has treed Neal in Elizabeth's backyard maple tree. Neal is sitting on a tree branch, nonchalantly washing himself as if he hasn't a care in the world. The German shepherd is standing with his paws on the trunk of the tree, his very long body stretched as far as it will go and his canine nose pointed skyward. He's intent on his prey, his ears pointed forward and his eyes fixed on the cat.
"He looks pretty serious to me."
"Oh, he gets along great with cats. He only does that because your cat taunts him."
"Neal does not!" Kate protests. But as she observes the cat and dog over the next few weeks, she has to admit that Elizabeth has a point. Neal has the whole street to play in (and a little alley-cat buddy who has taken to mooching food from Neal's dish), but he keeps going over into Elizabeth's yard. He'll saunter along the fence, making good and sure he's gotten Peter's attention, then jump to the top of Peter's outside doghouse, until the dog is in a frenzy. He even steals Peter's toys and bones. Kate keeps finding dog chew toys on her front porch, which she tosses back over the fence into Elizabeth's yard whenever it happens.
What kind of cat does that sort of thing?
Even if it's Neal's own fault for taunting the dog, though, Kate lives in fear of what will happen if Peter ever actually catches him. Elizabeth swears up and down that Peter is a gentle dog who would never hurt Neal, but he looks so very fierce and serious when he's pursuing the kitten. And Neal is so small and young. He's going to make a mistake one of these days, Kate knows, and get himself into trouble. He simply has no common sense. He especially loves to climb the highest branches of Elizabeth's maple tree, and make impossibly long leaps from the tree to the Mitchell rooftop. One of these days he'll fall, and the dog is always underneath, waiting for it.
Then the day comes when she can't find Neal anywhere. It's pouring rain outside, and although Neal loves to roam far and wide in good weather, he always comes back inside when it becomes inclement; he hates getting wet. But today, he's nowhere to be found. Kate hunts all over her yard and then, umbrella in hand, goes next door to find out if Elizabeth has seen him.
"Well, I know he was out in the backyard earlier because I heard Peter barking," Elizabeth says, and Kate's heart sinks. "I brought Peter inside when it started raining, but he keeps trying to get back out, so maybe Neal's still out there."
Sure enough, the dog is practically glued to Elizabeth's glass patio door, his ears pricked up. When he sees his mistress looking at him, he paws at the door expectantly.
"Can we check the backyard?" Kate asks. The rain has mostly stopped, and the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds.
As soon as Elizabeth opens the patio door, Peter is outside like a shot. He bounds down the stairs and makes a beeline for Elizabeth's rain barrel under her gutter downspout. (Elizabeth, an avid gardener, uses rain barrels to collect water for watering her garden; she's always told Kate that it's much more ecologically sound than using a hose.)
And Kate races on the dog's heels, because she just heard a weak little cry -- the same thing the dog must have been hearing inside the house, that made him so interested. Somehow Neal has managed to fall into the rain barrel. He can't climb out and he's struggling to stay afloat; in the brief glimpse that Kate gets of him, he looks bedraggled and completely exhausted.
But she only gets a glimpse, because the dog is even faster than she is: he puts his paws on the edge of the rain barrel, leans his head down and nips up Neal by the scruff of the neck.
"No, Peter!" Kate wails. "Bad dog! Drop it!"
Elizabeth catches her by the arm before she can strike the dog and make him drop her kitten. "He's not hurting him," Elizabeth says, and it's true. Peter lies down with the kitten between his paws and starts to lick him. The kitten is limp at first, then begins to sputter and struggle. Peter relinquishes him readily when Kate picks him up.
"Oh, Neal, you're such a handful," Kate moans, trying to dry him with the end of her scarf. As if it's not enough that he's soaking wet, now he's covered with dog slobber too.
In the house, Elizabeth helps her dry him off and wrap him up in warm towels. The dog is underfoot throughout this whole process, watching the humans as if he's checking up and making sure that they're doing a proper job.
Soon Kate is settled on Elizabeth's couch with Neal tucked in her lap, wrapped in towels, and a cup of tea in her hand. Elizabeth is very apologetic, but Kate tells her that Neal is always taking stupid risks; she's seen him, dozens of times, walking on the edge of the rain barrel and the gutters above it. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.
"Well, I'll cover the barrel right away," Elizabeth says, and hurries out to her garden shed to find something to do the job.
Kate expects Peter to follow her, because the dog adores Elizabeth and goes with her everywhere. Instead, he rests his big head on Kate's knee. His ears are pricked up, and he's focused on the little towel-wrapped bundle.
Kate knows he can't understand her, but she says, "You did a good job. Nice rescue." And, a bit hesitantly, she unfolds a corner of the towel so that Peter can see that the little cat is all right.
Peter noses anxiously into the towel. Neal yawns and uncoils enough to bap him in the muzzle with a small paw. Peter jerks back in surprise, and Kate braces herself to quickly separate them. But Neal didn't have his claws out -- if Kate didn't know better, she'd think it was more of an affectionate tap than anything. The dog gives the kitten a quick swipe with his tongue, and then lies down by Kate's feet.
"I just got him dry, you know," Kate says, smoothing down Neal's ruffled fur.
Neal seems to be recovered from his ordeal anyway. He hates to be clung to, and he squirms out of the towel and hops onto the couch, then the floor. Peter's head goes up quickly. He looks at the patio door, then at the cat. But rather than trying to leave, Neal climbs with one deliberate pawstep at a time onto the dog's broad furry back, and settles into a ball. He's purring.
Peter gives him a look of nearly human surprise, his ears going down, as if to say I can't BELIEVE this. Then he sighs and lays his head down on his paws. Kate can see that, in the manner of his breed, he's on guard, protecting his house and humans ... and, apparently, "his" cat. As domestic as they look at the moment, though, Kate has a suspicion that the next time she sees them, Peter will be right back to chasing Neal. Because Elizabeth is right: no matter how serious it looks, it's just a game to them.
She strokes Neal's back, and then scritches Peter between the ears, and murmurs, "Good dog."
~
If you look up "German shepherd kitten" or "Alsatian kitten" on Google Image Search, you get some really adorable visual aids for this. :D I couldn't find exactly what I had in mind (small tuxedo cat plus a very serious-looking German shepherd dog) but there are a lot of pictures that come close, and this one probably sums up their whole relationship from Peter's point of view.
This entry is also posted at http://sholio.dreamwidth.org/865402.html with
comments.
fandom_stocking stuffer, but I hadn't added it to anyone's stocking yet (I was still dithering on who to inflict it on give it to), and technically there's h/c in it, so I realized that it would totally work for this! Not only that, but I can also count it for the wildcard square on my h/c bingo card (as "drowning") and get one step closer to a bingo. :D
Title: Like Cats and Dogs
Fandom: White Collar
Word Count: 1800
Warning: Total AU (they're animals)
Summary: Kate's only problem with having a pet cat is that the neighbor's dog won't stop chasing him. For whitecollarhc's Advent calendar, and for the wild card square on my
hc_bingo card.
The kitten turns up on Kate's doorstep one day. He's about four months old, a pretty little black-and-white tuxedo kitty with blue eyes. He's wild and wary, but he's not starving, and Kate soon discovers why: because he's managed to charm every person on the block into giving him food. Trying to live-trap him turns out to be impossible (she's never met a feral cat that's so good at avoiding traps), but he loves to be petted, as long as he is the one to initiate it.
And he likes Kate best of everyone on their street. Soon she realizes that she's adopted the kitten, or rather, he's adopted her. She names him Neal, and hopes to train him to be an indoor cat, but it doesn't work: he just keeps getting out. Even when she thinks she's shut all the doors and windows, somehow he ends up in the backyard, and she'll just catch a glimpse of a white-tipped tail vanishing over the fence.
(The first time he got out, she was sure she'd never see him again. But he was back the next day, affectionate and purring, as if he'd never been gone. She can't stop thinking about all the things that could happen to him: the cars and owls and especially the next-door neighbor's German shepherd, which looks like it could eat him in two bites.)
But Neal just isn't happy as an indoor cat, and she can't make him stay inside anyway. So she buys him a nice little blue collar with tags on it, so at least people will know he's not a stray. The first couple of times she puts it on him, he gets it off right away -- it's like he can undo the buckle or something. But then he starts to like it. Neal, like all cats, grooms himself constantly, and if Kate didn't know any better, she'd think that he was admiring his own collar at times.
She just wishes he'd stay out of Elizabeth Mitchell's yard. She never had any problem with Elizabeth as a next-door neighbor until she got a cat (or the cat got her). But Elizabeth has a dog -- a big dog. He's a very sweet dog, the sort of dog that looks scary and remains aloof at first, but will become your most loyal friend if you give him a chance to get to know you. However, the one thing the dog will not do is stop chasing Neal.
Elizabeth doesn't even seem to believe it's a problem. "Oh, Peter's only playing," she says. "He won't hurt your cat. He's a very gentle dog."
Kate gives the two animals a very skeptical look. At the moment, Peter has treed Neal in Elizabeth's backyard maple tree. Neal is sitting on a tree branch, nonchalantly washing himself as if he hasn't a care in the world. The German shepherd is standing with his paws on the trunk of the tree, his very long body stretched as far as it will go and his canine nose pointed skyward. He's intent on his prey, his ears pointed forward and his eyes fixed on the cat.
"He looks pretty serious to me."
"Oh, he gets along great with cats. He only does that because your cat taunts him."
"Neal does not!" Kate protests. But as she observes the cat and dog over the next few weeks, she has to admit that Elizabeth has a point. Neal has the whole street to play in (and a little alley-cat buddy who has taken to mooching food from Neal's dish), but he keeps going over into Elizabeth's yard. He'll saunter along the fence, making good and sure he's gotten Peter's attention, then jump to the top of Peter's outside doghouse, until the dog is in a frenzy. He even steals Peter's toys and bones. Kate keeps finding dog chew toys on her front porch, which she tosses back over the fence into Elizabeth's yard whenever it happens.
What kind of cat does that sort of thing?
Even if it's Neal's own fault for taunting the dog, though, Kate lives in fear of what will happen if Peter ever actually catches him. Elizabeth swears up and down that Peter is a gentle dog who would never hurt Neal, but he looks so very fierce and serious when he's pursuing the kitten. And Neal is so small and young. He's going to make a mistake one of these days, Kate knows, and get himself into trouble. He simply has no common sense. He especially loves to climb the highest branches of Elizabeth's maple tree, and make impossibly long leaps from the tree to the Mitchell rooftop. One of these days he'll fall, and the dog is always underneath, waiting for it.
Then the day comes when she can't find Neal anywhere. It's pouring rain outside, and although Neal loves to roam far and wide in good weather, he always comes back inside when it becomes inclement; he hates getting wet. But today, he's nowhere to be found. Kate hunts all over her yard and then, umbrella in hand, goes next door to find out if Elizabeth has seen him.
"Well, I know he was out in the backyard earlier because I heard Peter barking," Elizabeth says, and Kate's heart sinks. "I brought Peter inside when it started raining, but he keeps trying to get back out, so maybe Neal's still out there."
Sure enough, the dog is practically glued to Elizabeth's glass patio door, his ears pricked up. When he sees his mistress looking at him, he paws at the door expectantly.
"Can we check the backyard?" Kate asks. The rain has mostly stopped, and the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds.
As soon as Elizabeth opens the patio door, Peter is outside like a shot. He bounds down the stairs and makes a beeline for Elizabeth's rain barrel under her gutter downspout. (Elizabeth, an avid gardener, uses rain barrels to collect water for watering her garden; she's always told Kate that it's much more ecologically sound than using a hose.)
And Kate races on the dog's heels, because she just heard a weak little cry -- the same thing the dog must have been hearing inside the house, that made him so interested. Somehow Neal has managed to fall into the rain barrel. He can't climb out and he's struggling to stay afloat; in the brief glimpse that Kate gets of him, he looks bedraggled and completely exhausted.
But she only gets a glimpse, because the dog is even faster than she is: he puts his paws on the edge of the rain barrel, leans his head down and nips up Neal by the scruff of the neck.
"No, Peter!" Kate wails. "Bad dog! Drop it!"
Elizabeth catches her by the arm before she can strike the dog and make him drop her kitten. "He's not hurting him," Elizabeth says, and it's true. Peter lies down with the kitten between his paws and starts to lick him. The kitten is limp at first, then begins to sputter and struggle. Peter relinquishes him readily when Kate picks him up.
"Oh, Neal, you're such a handful," Kate moans, trying to dry him with the end of her scarf. As if it's not enough that he's soaking wet, now he's covered with dog slobber too.
In the house, Elizabeth helps her dry him off and wrap him up in warm towels. The dog is underfoot throughout this whole process, watching the humans as if he's checking up and making sure that they're doing a proper job.
Soon Kate is settled on Elizabeth's couch with Neal tucked in her lap, wrapped in towels, and a cup of tea in her hand. Elizabeth is very apologetic, but Kate tells her that Neal is always taking stupid risks; she's seen him, dozens of times, walking on the edge of the rain barrel and the gutters above it. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.
"Well, I'll cover the barrel right away," Elizabeth says, and hurries out to her garden shed to find something to do the job.
Kate expects Peter to follow her, because the dog adores Elizabeth and goes with her everywhere. Instead, he rests his big head on Kate's knee. His ears are pricked up, and he's focused on the little towel-wrapped bundle.
Kate knows he can't understand her, but she says, "You did a good job. Nice rescue." And, a bit hesitantly, she unfolds a corner of the towel so that Peter can see that the little cat is all right.
Peter noses anxiously into the towel. Neal yawns and uncoils enough to bap him in the muzzle with a small paw. Peter jerks back in surprise, and Kate braces herself to quickly separate them. But Neal didn't have his claws out -- if Kate didn't know better, she'd think it was more of an affectionate tap than anything. The dog gives the kitten a quick swipe with his tongue, and then lies down by Kate's feet.
"I just got him dry, you know," Kate says, smoothing down Neal's ruffled fur.
Neal seems to be recovered from his ordeal anyway. He hates to be clung to, and he squirms out of the towel and hops onto the couch, then the floor. Peter's head goes up quickly. He looks at the patio door, then at the cat. But rather than trying to leave, Neal climbs with one deliberate pawstep at a time onto the dog's broad furry back, and settles into a ball. He's purring.
Peter gives him a look of nearly human surprise, his ears going down, as if to say I can't BELIEVE this. Then he sighs and lays his head down on his paws. Kate can see that, in the manner of his breed, he's on guard, protecting his house and humans ... and, apparently, "his" cat. As domestic as they look at the moment, though, Kate has a suspicion that the next time she sees them, Peter will be right back to chasing Neal. Because Elizabeth is right: no matter how serious it looks, it's just a game to them.
She strokes Neal's back, and then scritches Peter between the ears, and murmurs, "Good dog."
~
If you look up "German shepherd kitten" or "Alsatian kitten" on Google Image Search, you get some really adorable visual aids for this. :D I couldn't find exactly what I had in mind (small tuxedo cat plus a very serious-looking German shepherd dog) but there are a lot of pictures that come close, and this one probably sums up their whole relationship from Peter's point of view.
This entry is also posted at http://sholio.dreamwidth.org/865402.html with
comments.