?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Sloth Fiction Part Deux-Cherchez Les Chats~Rated PG

The boys are back at Chez LadyWriter and this time, they get to meet some of the furry family members. Mild spoilers if you haven't read some of my earlier stuff, specifically “Dangerous to Know,” “Lost & Found” and “The Adventures Continue.” Enjoy!


“She's—staring at me.”

Lucas, who'd claimed the sofa, stretched his muscular arms, well displayed in his rather snug-fitting powder blue pullover, and folded them behind his head.

“She's a cat, Guy. Cats do that sort of thing, you know . . .” He drawled lazily. Lucas was still a bit knackered from shooting Spooks.
Guy sniffed. “Yes, but—do they not stare at Humans, in general? God's teeth, it's as if the creature can--see--me!”

Harry, who was leafing through a stack of books in his lap, chuckled.

“But—Guy, you forget. Puddin' was featured guest--pussycat--in 'Dangerous to Know' and 'Lost and Found,' so it's not as if you two are strangers,” Harry said with a smile and a shrug.

“True . . . but—she's real. She's not a Character like us.” Guy, from the corner of his kohl-rimmed azure eyes, peered rather suspiciously at the rotund, long-haired cat.
“God's blood, but she shouldn't be able to see us outside the pages of LW's fic—should she?”

Harry scratched his head. “Don't know. LW can see us any time—even when she's not writing.”

Guy frowned. “Yes, but—well, I am most fond of LadyWriter, but she is bit barmy, you must admit . . .”

The feline named Puddin', also known as Puddie and Puddums, continued to stare at Sir Guy with her very large, sea green eyes.
Unblinking eyes.

“I mean—I always know where I am with that hound Zeus. Dogs, horses. You let them know who is in charge. And they respect that. Quite simple.” Guy folded his arms across his billowy black shirt, a slight smirk crossing his face.

“Yet the Lord of the Manor feels outsmarted by LW's sweet little pussycat . . .” John Porter's deep voice rumbled as he walked in and took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Guy blinked, fluttering those blackened lashes, his handsome features settling into a sneer.

“I am not outsmarted by a cat, you overgrown lump of—peasant.” The knight snarled menacingly. Damn LW for taking his sword away!

“Not even a crescent-shaped dagger with a poison tip to nick that jumped-up soldier with,” he muttered under his breath.

John Porter grinned quite cheekily and popped some honey roasted peanuts in his mouth.

“I'll think I'll have a glass of that rather delicious iced tea LW always keeps on hand, anyone care to join me?” Harry quickly interjected with raised brows and a sunny grin.

Lucas pursed his lips in thought.

“Actually, I could murder a couple of those choccie glazed doughnuts LW sometimes picks up. And a cup of coffee for dunking.”

Harry put down his books and loped into the kitchen to rifle through the K-cups in LW's pantry.
“Do you want a cup of German Chocolate, French Vanilla or Mississippi Mud Slide, Lucas?”

Lucas sat up and peered over the back of the sofa. “Doesn't the woman have something less--frilly--in the way of coffee?”

Harry shook his head, a heavy strand of dark hair falling over his forehead in a most charming way.

“I believe she likes to—what does she call it?--trick out her coffee the way she does her stories—spice them up a bit.”

Guy raised a single dark brow, his mouth curving into a devilish smirk.

“Well, that she does get right . . . aaaaaahhhh!” Guy jumped up as the aforementioned feline shot, claws definitely out, across his lap and streaked into the kitchen, where she proceeded to perform quite a dance around Harry's long, jean-clad legs.

“What's the matter, Guy, she didn't-uhm-detach anything important there, did she?” John asked with a deadpan expression.

Guy sniffed, tossed back his lustrous mane and turned his back to other lads.

Peeking very carefully inside his trousers (themselves a marvel in engineering) Guy gave a sigh of relief. Everything appeared properly intact.

He spun around on his boot-clad heel and gave another stallion-like toss of his hair. “I am perfectly—perfect.” Guy shot Puddin', her plume-like tail caressing Harry's legs, a very dark look. “No thanks to that wretched feline.”


“I do believe she's hungry . . .” Harry commented as he smiled down at the purring cat.

John stood up, took a couple of steps and almost fell against the back of the sofa.
“Shit! What was that?”

That, in fact, was a second cat. A very large cat. Not fat, mind you; just “massive,” John said with a whistle.

“Bloody hell, where did this one come from?”

Harry, who had reached down to pick up Puddin' and was now cradling the fat, fluffy feline in his long jumper-clad arms, peered around the island.

“Oh, that must be Lucky, the cat they inherited from LW's late father-in-law . . . he's a corker, isn't he?”

Lucky, a big gray and brown tabby who habitually smelled like popcorn for no known reason, gazed up at John with huge, soulful eyes, stretched out a single paw and began to slowly, methodically knead John's fatigues.

The soldier gritted his teeth. “Er—this one's still got its claws, too. Nice—long--ones . . .”

Guy bared his lovely white teeth in a rather ferocious smile.
“Well, Soldier Boy, what's that modern saying? If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen . . .”

The pulse jumped in John's neck as his jaw tightened.

“Do you have any effin' idea, Milord, how many times I've been tied up, shot, stabbed and tortured? Do you really think one—granted, one very large cat—with--er--really big paws”--John grimaced ever so slightly—“is going to take me down?”

Guy gave a truly magnificent sniff as he folded his arms.
“I've been tied up, tortured, stabbed and had a tattoo removed by the Treacherous Troll, and believe me, it was no picnic at Turner's Pond, let me tell you.”

“Lads, lads, let's settle down . . .” Harry implored as he stroked the giant fuzz ball.

Lucas suddenly shot up from the sofa with a growl.

Guy's raised his brows. “Wot?”

Lucas, a distinctly menacing look on his handsome face, hissed at Guy and John.

“Look, you two. I've been stuck in a hellhole of a Russian prison AND tied up AND shot, stabbed and tortured . . . but that's hardly the worst. You two have no—idea . . .”

Lucas's brow clouded as a look of abject horror came into his haunted blue eyes.

“I—had to sleep with the Evil Popsicle B**ch, the Freezer Queen---she who was known as--” Lucas swallowed and closed his eyes as he spoke in a fearful whisper.
“Sarah Caulfield.”

Guy and John looked at each other, each furrowing his brow and tilting his head. Then they looked at Lucas with a new respect in their azure gazes.

“I've got to hand it to you, Lucas—you're a better man than I am,” John muttered, raising his hands in defeat.

Guy shuddered. “I have heard of She Of the Accent That Makes One's Ears Bleed . . . I concede to you, Lucas North. Even being forced to kiss Blobbin in DTK wasn't as horrific as having to dally with the Cold Insipid Arrogant Agent.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered Lucas, rubbing his forehead. “I thought she was going to freeze off my—oh, never mind.”

Harry grinned. “Well, here's someone warm and soft and fuzzy to make you feel better . . .”

Lucas sighed and held out his arms. “Yeah. Give me the fat cat.”

John looked down at Lucky, who was now sitting Sphinx-like, gazing up at him with those really enormous eyes.

“You look like you want a little attention, too, big fella,” he said, a smile tugging at his mouth. John leaned down and scooped up the massive feline, carrying him over to Mr. LW's recliner.
Lucky purred as smoothly as a well-tuned race care engine.

“You DO smell like popcorn, Lucky Boy,” John murmured.

Guy sat back down. Watching Lucas and John with the cats made him a bit envious. LW's dogs all lived outside. She'd have been very upset and who knows what she would have done (inflicted Sarah Caulfield on him? Perish the thought!) if he had brought Beauregard, Elvis or Rascal in the house.

He gave a small sigh, a faint sniff, and laid back his head.
And then he felt something tugging on his trouser leg.
Guy raised his head and looked down. A quivering mass of black and white fur was gazing up at him with a most intense pair of electric green eyes.

“Who are you?” Guy rumbled. He studied the creature more closely.
“Why, you've only got three legs.”

Thumper—for this was the name of the fat little three-legged tuxedo cat with a Hitler mustache—suddenly began to rappel up Guy's trouser leg.

“God's breath--I see you've all your claws, too,” he grimaced, and quickly lifted the cat up into his lap.

“You're a rather handsome little creature . . .” Guy said. “Haven't missed too many meals, have you? How'd you lose your leg?”

Harry, who had started leafing through the mountain of cookbooks in the house, glanced up over his spectacles.

“Ah, I believe when she was just a tiny kitten, she had an encounter with a dog. The dog won. A kind person found her in the market car park, wet from the rain, ripped open, bedraggled and in quite a state. But still struggling to get up. The vet was able to sew her up and save her, although the leg was a goner. Eventually, she moved in with LW and the Mister.”

Harry took off his spectacle and thoughtfully chewed on the earpiece a bit.
“LadyWriter says she is a very bright cat, but a bit—strange. Definitely not a quitter.”

Guy smiled down at the cat. “Bit of a dark horse, aren't you, Thumper? Well, so am I . . .”

*~*~*~*

LW awoke and needed to fetch some medicine from the kitchen.
Slipping on her eyeglasses and grabbing her flashlight (torch to her Characters), she eased the door to the bedroom open and stepped into the den.
She smiled as she moved the flashlight's beam slowly around the room.

~I thought I heard something bumping about earlier~

Lucas was sleeping soundly on the sofa, Puddie curled up on his shoulder, her head snug in the crook of his neck.

Guy and John had each kicked back in the recliners, snoring softly, Lucky stretched out across John's lap, while Thumper cuddled happily with Guy's boot (she had a bit of a shoe fetish, that cat. We said she was strange).

And Harry, dear Harry. He had made himself at home on the den floor, his head on an over-sized pillow, surrounded by books, a slender, lovely cat with a coat of cream, caramel and chocolate, spooned against him.

~Should have known. Our sweetest, shy Callie has fallen for the charms of Harry K. I can't blame her . . .~

“Sweet dreams, everyone,” LadyWriter murmured as she slipped back into bed.

The cat offers mankind the pleasure of caressing the tiger; and sometimes Characters, who are so very real to LadyWriter, also need the same soothing pleasures . . .

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
fedoralady
Sep. 15th, 2010 02:43 pm (UTC)
OK . . . ???????????
onemorelurker1
Sep. 15th, 2010 04:03 pm (UTC)
Another sloth fic, yay!

You sure have a lot of cats! I'm more of a dog's person than cat's (see?there's a reason I'm a Guy-girl) and loved your sweetest and shy fell for Mr. Kennedy, his sincere smile can make even the most shy person comfortable.

I should have seen that coming! What is worse than 8 years in a russian prison? SC of course. lol

OML :)
fedoralady
Sep. 15th, 2010 08:31 pm (UTC)
The funny thing is I used to be more of a dog person ( growing up on the farm, we always had a large outside dog but with three big poultry houses, usually kept the cat population to a minimum for obvious reasons) but my husband, who grew up with a cat named (how orginal) Kitty-Cat, wanted to adopt a homeless kitty. We got Smokie, a long-haired grey cat in need of a good home whilst on a vacation trip to Denver, CO and she led me to also fall in love with felines.
Combining inside and outside animals we have had as many as 10 at one time. We are "down" to only seven.

All our pets in our 25 years of have been either adopted from a shelter or taken in off the street or road.

I am very involved in our humane society here. Those animals have given us some grief and aggravation over the years, but also a lot of affection, humour, companionship and love. My BIL once sent us a hilarious email in which dogs were described as "men in little fur cats" and cats as "women in little fur coats" LOL

I could easily see Sir Guy finding cats--who are royalty in themselves--difficult to deal with *wink*

And sweet Callie would gravitate to Harry for he is the most like Mister LW *grin*

Sloth Fiction seems quite popular and it is fun to write, so I expect you will see more . . . thanks!
onemorelurker1
Sep. 16th, 2010 08:14 am (UTC)
"*only* seven" pets... not much O_O

Wow, those are lucky animals, you gave them a better life and I'm sure every day they give you back twice as much as you give them.

Yes, it's true, cats have this royalty aura about them and a 'person' that lived in the era of kings and knights might perceive it even more. I understand Guy's likely to care more about dogs, they are characterize for their loyalty, something he values very highly.

OML :)
meandrichard.wordpress.com
Sep. 15th, 2010 10:04 pm (UTC)
aaaaaaw.
This is so sweet. :)
nietzsche999
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:19 am (UTC)
OMG, I love this! Sloth fiction is a hit!!
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )

Profile

fedoralady
fedoralady

Latest Month

August 2012
S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Tags

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Jamison Wieser