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Kitty
by Mars
for ELD.
J.J. feels abandoned, left behind, left out. It's funny because it's not as if he makes a point to drag everyone else out on his plans, but he excuses that with the fact that not everyone else in the house would enjoy his nightly plans. And it's not as if he, at least, doesn't ask. He's always asking, but he never expects any answer but the one he gets: indulgent laughter and a shrug, and a "maybe next time," (L.L.) or "not tonight, Joey" (J.L.) or "not in the mood" (L.J.) or "not if you're gonna show me up" (Twist).
But tonight he came home with three whole grocery bags full of stuff and he figured if nobody liked going out with him he'd stay home with them for once and of course, oh, of course everyone had gone out somewhere without him. All together, no less; J.L. had been polite enough to leave him a note apologizing for leaving without him and wishing him fun out at the clubs.
"Well, isn't that just the way it goes, you know?" he says, indignant, upon surveying the empty house to make sure that nobody was home.
He sighs and puts the groceries away and he tries to pretend he doesn't care, anyway, he'd have more fun going to Decadence tonight anyway, because it's Flashback and they'll be playing his favorite 80's music and he never likes missing a night at Decadence cos who knows who he'll be missing? He goes up and takes a shower and puts on cologne and then he stands in front of his closet and contemplates what he wants to wear tonight.
But even with Material Girl on the stereo turned up to a volume that would never be allowed if anyone else was in the house, he just isn't feeling it. He grabs something off a hanger without hardly seeing it, tugs it on before turning to the mirror and double-taking in horror.
"God, this sucks!" he shouts, but he doesn't mean the shirt, which is, sadly, something he actually bought sober. "I can't believe they all just abandoned me!"
He flops onto the bed, scowling, arms crossed over his chest, feeling sorry for himself.
Something fuzzy nudges his ear, and he swats at it absently, thinking a pillow has cascaded off the teetering pile leaning against his headboard; but whatever it is comes back, and nudges him more insistently. This time, it's accompanied by a plaintive "meow."
"Wh--" he starts, rolling over, finding himself nose to nose with the siamese kitten L.J. gave him for Christmas. He blinks. There's a note tied around its neck. He gingerly unties the pink ribbon, wondering if maybe there's some surprise waiting for him, that the others didn't go anywhere without him after all, they just have some elaborate party set up and--
"'Take care of your own damn cat,'" he reads, "'--L.J.'"
He flings the note away more viciously than he needs to. "It's not my fault I'm not a pet person!" he groans. The kitten butts her head up against him again and makes another loud meow. He scowls and scoops her up. "Look, you know, I know I suck as a dad but like, you totally can't blame me. I don't know why anyone would give me a pet anyway, you know?"
The kitten blinks, and then squirms, twisting until she can leap out of his arms back onto the mattress. Once there, she scolds him quite firmly. He spreads his hands. "What do you want? Do you want food? Games? A boyfriend?"
He grabs after her again, but she is too fast for him, slipping away and into his closet. "Omigod, kitty, you so can't be in there! You'll get cat hair on everything!" He throws shoe boxes and shoes aside, digging after her, but by the time he's exposed her hiding spot she's darting past him and out the door of his room, and down the stairs.
"I am so not in the mood!" he yells, at no one in particular. But he is after her as soon as he's done, because she can't be running around the house- J.L. is allergic and who knows what she'll get into. He wonders how he'll find her if she's ducked into another closet, but she's waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, patiently grooming. He creeps down the rest of the stairs slowly, hoping to sneak up on her, but there's no need. She stands as he hits the landing and waits for him, emphasizing her point with a meow. Then she trots ahead of him towards the kitchen.
"Right," he says. "Food. Where does L.J. keep it again?"
He goes through all the cupboards but either they're all out or L.J.'s hidden it to prove a point to him. He pokes through the fridge in hopes of finding something to tide her over; there's liver paté he'd meant for dinner.
"Well, it's their fault for missing out, right, kitty?" he says, cracking open the top of the deli container. He trails one finger through it just to be rude and pops it in his mouth, then sticks the entire dish in front of the kitten. "Bon appetit."
She sets to eating, loudly purring, and he ventures a hand out to pet her. Eating, she barely seems to notice, but she doesn't run, either, and he takes it as a good sign. It makes him smile, watching the kitten indulge, stroking her soft fur. Poor thing, he thinks. L.J. probably kept her on some horrible dry-food-only diet, watching her purr and lick the sides of the bowl clean. "Don't they know people like us need only the best, right, kitty?"
She finishes eating, and he half expects her to bolt again; but she only turns, still purring, and proceeds to lick his fingertips. He watches her tiny pink tongue and he feels suddenly ashamed for having ignored her so badly that well, he can't even remember if he gave her a name. He was a bit high when he'd discovered what L.J. had left him for Christmas and he was afraid he'd mostly just tossed his jacket in her direction and wondered who'd gotten a cat in the house. L.J. had explained it all later, but J.J. had been on the way out and just told him, "take care of it for me until I get back, 'kay?"
He crosses his arms, resting his chin on the countertop, nose to nose with the kitten. "Well," he says, "I promise never to abandon you again, if you don't abandon me."
She obviously doesn't understand English because it's at that point that she hops off the counter and trots towards the living room. "Yeah," J.J. says, "I guess I deserved that." He trails after her, finding her curled up on the couch. She looks up at him expectantly as he arrives, so he sits next to her and begins petting her in long, easy strokes. "Well, I know you hate me, you know, but I'm kinda glad you're around."
She seems happy enough with this, and even lets him doze off next to her, curling up warm and soft against his side.
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