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(Or cat-like terms used to describe whorish young ladies. Whatevs). Really title has nothing to do with it. It's all Kittie's fault too. :P
Pet Me Poppa
By R. Cooper
Warnings: Extreme fluff and semi-crack
Summary: Uuhh...it's short. Does it really need a summary? Written in about a day.
AN: See end of story.
The door wasn’t locked. It was, in fact, slightly ajar, and there was no sign of Ray. The fact of which reminded me—not that I had forgotten—of my purpose in being here, at Ray’s apartment, uninvited. It appeared that no one had seen or heard from Ray for over twenty-four hours now.
A problematic bust of several Haitian drug dealers two days ago had been my last contact with Ray, with anyone from the 27th in fact until Lieutenant Welsh had called the Consulate not an hour ago, inquiring as to whether I had seen Detective Vecchio anytime today.
Considering that Ray was supposed to have reported in several hours ago, the Lieutenant was surprisingly polite about it. He’d ended the call before I had had a chance to offer my assistance, perhaps knowing I would go seek out Ray without needing to be asked. Which was a troublesome fact to acknowledge, that my concern and devotion were that obvious. But the Lieutenant was a sharp man, and any embarrassment I might be feeling would be moot if I didn’t find out what had happened to Ray.
I frowned at that. In truth, it wasn’t like Ray to be so irresponsible despite all the evidence Ray deliberately gave to the contrary. So I hadn’t hesitated to request permission for the day off from Inspector Thatcher. It was strange however, that Dief did not seem alarmed in any way; he had run off the moment Ray’s apartment had come into sight.
Ray’s door opened at the slightest touch, and I poked my head inside cautiously, half-expecting to hear Ray’s voice yelling at me to “get in or get out, but don’t whatdoyoucallit lurk in my fuckin’ doorway, Fraser”.
But there was nothing. The apartment was silent.
“Ray?” I closed the door quietly behind me. There was no answer, and I stepped forward quickly, my heart pounding as I peered over the couch and around the kitchen counter.
“Ray?” I called again, proceeding with care down the hall, checking the bathroom. That left Ray’s bedroom.
My mouth felt dry, but I opened the door, definitely expecting to hear Ray angrily demanding some privacy. I was ready to close my eyes if need be, more for my sake for Ray’s—whatever I saw would doubtless be burned forever into my imagination. But Ray’s bed was unoccupied. It was even close to being made; the bedclothes had been thrown over the mattress, just not pulled straight. A bundle of Ray’s clothes, the ones he had worn the other day on our bust, lay on the bed, near the bottom.
I eyed the jeans and t-shirt with foreboding, but they offered no clues, so I turned, prepared to leave and look elsewhere for Ray.
Until the bundle moved.
I put out a hand as the t-shirt twitched and gave a little bounce.
“Ray?’ I whispered, angling my head up to listen carefully. Then I froze as a tiny, furry face emerged from the white cotton.
A young kitten was staring at me with wide blue eyes. It was almost too young to be away from its mother, judging from its size. But I quickly forgot my first thought as I studied the fuzzy little creature, absolutely the last thing I had ever imagined finding in Ray’s bed.
It was light-coloured, almost yellow, though I supposed that that would change with age, darken to orange, yellow fur that stuck out in fluffy wisps all over its overly-large head. The blue eyes, round and deep, though also likely to change, fixed on me and got rounder.
I stared back for a moment and tried not to let my consternation show. Ray hadn’t mentioned to me anything about getting a cat. Ray expressed concerns about caring for his turtle and then Ray got a cat. Without saying a word beforehand. I clenched my jaw And this kitten looked very young. It was going to need constant care, and Ray was nowhere to be found.
It wasn’t like Ray at all. Ray was impulsive at times, but he would never leave something so helpless all alone. And he would not leave without getting word to me, somehow. I was certain of it.
The kitten was still staring at me. It was rather cute, big ears and eyes, reminding me somehow of Dief as a pup; clumsy, uncoordinated, but aware, and impossibly endearing.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ray?” I murmured, then smiled briefly at what Ray would call my freak-ness, because the cat wasn’t the same was Diefenbaker. “Of course n....”
“Meow!” The kitten’s sudden, soft, happy cry interrupted me mid-sentence, and the kitten shook itself free of Ray’s shirt and bounded across the bed toward me, as though it knew me, as though it had missed me.
I was moving to catch it before I had consciously realized it was also running toward the edge of the mattress.
The kitten stumbled into my hands without pausing, clumsy legs entangling between my fingers. A fat little belly was warm against my palm and I raised the kitten to eye level, unsurprised to find the cat staring at me expectantly. Ray hadn’t mentioned a cat at all, I was sure of it. Not that Ray was required to tell me all the details of his life, we had no such commitment. We were simply partners, and this incident with the cat only proved that Ray was content with it remaining that way. I had absolutely no reason to suddenly wish myself back at the Consulate, surrounded by tourists who knew nothing about me.
“So you’re Ray’s new cat,” I said, instead of saying anything that I might have said otherwise. But I had to say something, anything, when the kitten started to rub its face against my fingertips.
Its fur was silky soft and fine despite the odd arrangements of spikes across its forehead, and I curled my fingers before I could help myself, scratching underneath one blue eye, petting the small cheek.
There was a rumbling in the plump belly and then the kitten flopped—or fell—onto its side, its head back and its legs spread out in almost indecent abandon. The blue eyes however were firmly fixed on me, and despite myself, I could feel my face get hot at the demand burning out from that blue.
“Very well.” I didn’t need my father to see a clue that obvious, not this time. I slid the cat to one hand and used the other to scratch softly along its stomach, where the fur was all white except for the thin trail of yellow down the middle. It was so fragile, so small, I only used one finger.
At the very first touch the little body stretched elegantly, arching happily, fine blonde hairs ruffling up, sticking out wherever I had petted him.
“Meow,” he told me, the body moving with each quick breath.
“I really need to go find Ray.” I tried to excuse myself but I was cut short by multiple pinpricks in my palm. I nearly yelped at the sudden pain, but the kitten’s claws were unrelenting. I could still hear the cat purring as it retracted and extended tiny claws into my hand, trying to keep me there. It would have been harmless except for the number of them, soft baby claws reminding me of the danger a cat like this would have been a few thousand years ago, even as a kitten.
I had been right to think of Dief.
I scooped the kitten up by the back of its neck and held it aloft. My other hand was stinging.
I blinked in the next second, because instead of curling passively into the fetal position, the kitten’s paws were swinging wildly, his ears flattened back as he hissed and spit in my direction.
I set the cat on the bed and took a step back when it started jumping around the moment its paws touched the bed, back arched, legs straight. It voiced its complaints loudly.
“Me-ow!” The cat howled at me, and I could hear the anger in the small voice, the accusation. “All I wanted was a freakin’ bellyrub, Fraser, and now you’re gonna…”
I stopped.
I shook my head.
The thought stayed there, right behind my eyes, like so many things about Ray it was impossible for me to ignore.
I put my hand out again, slowly, and the kitten sprang forward, collapsing into a ball of fluff—and teeth and kicking legs. I winced at the feel of short teeth gnawing on my thumb but knew I wasn’t bleeding.
Even angry, this cat could never hurt me.
But I had to test my theory, my freak-ness. If I was wrong, well, Ray didn’t call me crazy for absolutely no reason, and then I could go look for Ray somewhere else.
I paused and inhaled. My eyebrow itched.
“Ray?” I whispered, and the kitten went still, his mouth still locked around my thumb. Blue eyes found mine immediately, and I realized I was licking my lips. “Ray?” I tried again. I had to be sure.
“Reow?” The kitten answered around my thumb, softening its bite. He stopped kicking his legs, going limp when I picked him up once more.
“Joseph Snow used to tell stories, Ray, of gods and demons and men who had the spirits of animals, but I never thought, Ray…” I tried to search for delicacy and failed. “…a kitten? Ow!”
This time the kitten—Ray—sank his teeth into my flesh, intending to wound.
“Well, I apologize, Ray, but even you must admit…”
“Reow.” The impatient sigh, so familiar it hurt to hear it. Ray telling me to get on with it, “Get to the freaking point, already, Fraser.”
“Yes, you’re right. Of course this isn’t an important line of thought right now.” I cradled the kitten even more carefully in my palm and brought it right to my face. “I promise, I will help you, Ray, however I can.” No matter how cute this kitten was, I could not leave Ray to this fate. I couldn’t even bear the thought of Ray trapped in this small, almost helpless body, Ray unable to get in my face and storm at me, a Ray who couldn’t slide gracefully from dancing to fighting, who couldn’t call me a crazy Mountie and invite me for take-out, or to sit with him in restaurants and ask with bright eyes about my day. I couldn’t…I couldn’t be without that Ray.
I swallowed, and the kitten stood up on my palm. It slinked toward me, evidently calmer now as it stretched its neck to press its cold, wet nose to mine. I heard it—Ray—breathe, a light, whuffing sound, and then felt the raspy, dry swipe of his tongue on the tip of my nose. It was not as unpleasant as it might have been.
“Oh dear.” I blushed, trying not to frown at the mildly abrasive feel. “Ray…that is…this is hardly appropriate.”
Undeterred by that reminder of propriety, Ray only continued to bathe my face, his ears set back in determination.
“Ray…” My neck was hot now as well, my collar far too tight. “Ray you cannot criticize my habit of tasting pertinent clues when you persist in lick…” Ray reached the end of my jaw, by my ear, and my giggle escaped despite my attempts to stifle it. “Ray…” I tried again as a small, padded foot stepped onto my shoulder. “Ray! Ray—Ray!” One paw became two, claws digging into my serge while a little tongue lapped at the flesh behind my ear.
I shivered and tried to pull on the bottom half of the cat still in my hands.
“I’m happy to see you too, Ray. I’m always happy to see you, you must know that. However…” Short teeth started to nibble on my earlobe and then Ray slipped up onto my shoulder. It took him a moment to make himself comfortable, legs on either side of my shoulder, his belly flat, his head resting against my neck.
His spiky hair tickled, just as I had always imagined it would.
My frown was real at the thought, at the idea that I would even think of that at a time like this. Ray needed help; he was hardly responsible for his current behavior. Even if this was exactly the sort of behavior Ray bragged about with the women he occasionally took out.
What could have caused it? I tried to focus. Ray would hardly wish this form on himself, even if he were some sort of shape shifter. Perhaps a curse…
“Reow?” Ray asked me, and I lifted my hand, using one finger to stroke through the fine, warm fur, feeling the bones along the spine the cat was so thin, tracing carefully over slightly protruding ribs. His heart pumped forcefully in his chest, reminding me once again that despite appearances this cat was not fragile. Of course he wasn’t.
“Ray,” I started softly, and felt the rumbling purr begin once more, compelling me to scratch under the blue eyes, under the chin, more than a little amazed that Ray—even this version of Ray—didn’t seem to mind.
If the purring were any indication, Ray loved it. And for a moment, I could scarcely breathe.
“I…I swear, Ray, I will do everything in my power to help you, and I won’t leave you. You do know that, don’t you, Ray? I will never leave you—unless you wish me to.”
“Why the hell would I want that?” Ray wondered and my hand froze, hovering over the kitten’s warmth. “Even if you’re a smart ass, and a weirdo, and you’re standing in my bedroom. And there’s another question for you, Fraser. Why the hell are you in my bedroom anyway? Because…”
“Ray!” I turned around so quickly I nearly tripped on my own feet, and then I drank in the sight of Ray standing only a short distance away, smiling and scowling at the same time and running a hand through his blonde hair. He had on a ratty, torn t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and he held a brown paper bag in one arm.
“Ray,” I said again, because there he was, and I let my eyes sweep up and down Ray’s slight body, finally settling them on the deep blue eyes. “I thought…” I coughed at that; there was no need to explain that just yet. “I am pleased to see you, Ray,” I spoke at last, still staring into rich, clear blue. Ray.
Ray’s eyes grew rounder, and then he jerked his chin up, tearing his gaze away.
“I had to go to the store. The Ice Queen change the uniform?” He pointed to my shoulder, and the kitten still resting peacefully there. It was, as usual, almost impossible to tell what Ray was really thinking from the frown on his face, but his tone was light. “Of course the cat sleeps for you.” Ray made an annoyed sound, but his hand came up, his thumb brushing my ear briefly before he scratched at Ray’s—the kitten’s—head.
The cat swiped lazily at him, with its claws in, and then resumed purring.
“I thought the damn thing would’ve torn my place apart by now,” Ray complained, dropping his voice when his fingers once again skimmed lightly over my skin. My lips parted, felt dry no matter how I licked them. I brought my gaze up, but Ray was staring firmly at the kitten. His nails scraped once across my neck, impossibly gentle. “Knocked over my alarm over this morning, and broke it. And I still don’t know what she did to my phone, but, man, it is busted.”
“Well,” I sucked in a breath. “That explains that at…She?” I knew there was no hiding in the red in my face. I hadn’t really stopped to check, I had simply assumed…
“I called Welsh from a payphone when I went out to get some food for her.” Ray still wasn’t looking at him, but I couldn’t make myself look anywhere else but at Ray when his fingers strayed from the cat once more, touched me, accidentally perhaps.
But Ray was not clumsy.
“What?” Ray finally, suddenly, brought his head up. His cheeks looked to be warm as well before he sent his gaze around the room. “Don’t look at me like that, Fraser. I found it on my way home yesterday.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I could hardly just leave her there.”
“Of course not, Ray.” It was embarrassing, how low my voice dropped to answer Ray. But it made Ray look at me, his lips curving into a small smile.
“Yeah?” he wondered, and nodded at my shoulder. “But she don’t do that for me.”
I would, I thought, then froze, unsure if I had said the words out loud. Ray blinked, and then he was scowling, not his usual scowl, but just as indecipherable to me as he leaned in.
There was a small crash as the paper bag was dropped to the floor, and I almost looked down to see the tins of cat food roll across the carpet.
“So…” Ray was asking me, Ray was leaning in, his hands nowhere near the kitten. “You’ll never leave me, huh, Fraser?” and I could feel the purr all the way in my chest, loud in my ear.
The End
AN: Kittie and I have decided that Welsh gets the cat when they go to Canada, but that they call him from time to time to bug him with questions about how their kitty is doing. Also, Ray named the cat Tyra, after his favorite supermodel at the time, but Fraser still secretly thinks of her as Ray. And that somehow Ray must know this, because he holds Fraser down sometimes and licks him and nibbles his ear and his fingertips. Then sometimes, he scratches him too, just a little.
Hmmm and that's without going into our new BSG CKR- related paint!kink.
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:-D
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but I never thought, Ray…” I tried to search for delicacy and failed. “…a kitten? Ow!”
Bahahah. The kitten!Ray was brilliant. Just brilliant.
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BRAVA!!!!!
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Cute as heck. :)
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!! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
for a minute there i thought it would be actual crackfic! hee!!
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SO CUTE.
I loved all the sensory details of Fraser's kitten-petting, such as:
A fat little belly was warm against my palm
...isn't that the best? Anybody who's ever held a very young kitten knows that delightful sensation. And I loved how the cat looked like Ray, and Fraser's unhinged delusions of voodoo magic, and just...everything. Especially the F/K conclusion:
Ray was leaning in, his hands nowhere near the kitten
Hee! :)
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Very nice kitten-petting, and Rayness. I'm sure the kitten will love having two daddies :) Lucky cat. Now for the love of god get them sexin' for real . . .
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something's gotta warm my cockles
*snicker*
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I wonder how insulted Ray will be when he makes Fraser explain to him later (much, much later) what Fraser was talking about when he got there.
You thought I was a cat!??!
haha
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*g*
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Priceless.
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heh heh
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This was just adorable.
(Also, I love the shoes! slurp!)
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Little Ray mewing in Fraser's pocket....aw
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:)
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Just sayin'
In the shower maybe.
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Fraser can scratch Ray's later, watch Ray lie on his back and reow at him
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:)
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Thanks!
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