PURRCEPTIBLE
"So how long this time?" Brian asked, holding the cell to his ear with one hand and fumbling a cigarette out of the open pack with the other. Damn softpacks, he groused to himself, grunting at the effort. Down to the last three cigarettes and one-handed, retreiving one required more dexterity than he had at this early hour. No more softpacks, he decided. Justin's voice held a note of amusement. "Are you jerking off?" "No I'm not fucking jerking off, it's these goddamn...there got one." "What're you doing?" "Forget it, nothing that exciting." Brian lit the slightly bent cigarette, leaned back on the couch and exhaled a lungful of smoke toward the loft's ceiling. "So? How long you staying this time?" "Probably a couple weeks. Definitely over Christmas and New Years'." "Well good. You're missed in glorious Pittsburgh." "You miss me?" "I didn't say that." Justin laughed, then his voice softened. "Yeah, well I miss glorious Pittsburgh too. Often." "Bullshit. It's a state of mind. You just think you miss it." "Well that's stupid. If it's a state of mind, what's the difference if I think I miss it or actually do?" "You're funny. What's there to miss?" "Well you, for one thing. Family. Friends. I've been here almost a year and still don't know anyone. Not really. Gets lonely, you know?" "So, do something about it." "Yeah, well..." "What?" "I'm thinking of getting a housepet, for starters." Brian snorted. "A housepet. Got anybody in mind?" "Fuck you. I'm thinking a cat, a little kitten. I'm serious, quit laughing at me. I've been reading up on it. They're easy to take care of and make ideal pets. Remember after I dumped Ethan I missed the cat more than I missed him? I love cats." "Yeah well, you're not bringing it here on the weekends you visit." "You never know, it might grow on you." "Huh, right. So did that cancer that cost me a nut." "Jesus, Brian!" "Just do me one favor. Okay? Wait 'til after the holidays. I'm not dealing with your...domestic fauna running rampant in my loft for two weeks. It's out of the question." "Then that means if I get one next year, I can bring it on the weekends?" Brian sighed. "We'll see. If it behaves itself. One trial run - if it breaks anything or pisses on the floor, it's outta here." "It'll behave itself. Cats aren't much trouble. You'll see."
*****
Cats were a fucking shitload of trouble. At least finding one seemed to be. Brian snapped the cell shut and crossed out the last "kittens for sale" ad in the personals. He'd been making calls. Checking the personals ads. Surfing the net. He'd been to the pounds and animal shelters. Avoided pet shops with their offerings of overbred, sickly pedigrees. He'd always assumed cats all but grew on trees and there would be more than enough appropriate candidates to choose from, but finding one that was still available, healthy and not mentally deranged turned out to be more of a challenge than he'd anticipated. Of course it also had to be attractive. And it had to be a kitten. Justin had said a kitten. And Brian was determined to do this right - it had to be perfect. And he had two weeks left to find it - or else forget the whole thing and quietly and discreetly get rid of the litter box, basket, toys and all the other objects he'd collected over the past week. He'd discovered, after reading several books, that cats required almost as many *things* as a human infant for their proper care. Cats were a fucking shitload of trouble. He idly wondered if he was losing his mind. He discovered the ad online three days later, on a site that featured local news and had a personals section. "Three beautiful red male tabby kittens for sale, eight weeks old. Clean bill of health from our vet included. Only to good homes. Call -----". Brian couldn't help but smile at the photograph included in the ad, featuring all three of them. Only one of the three kittens was looking directly into the camera. His button eyes still had the baby blue color; they were wide and alert, curious but calm, his ears pricked forward. Huge paws. And a button nose that had a vivid red hue, so red you could... "You could almost say it glows..." Brian hummed cynically as he punched in the numbers displayed on the monitor. A cheerful German-accented female voice answered, accompanied by a background cacaphony of childrens' voices, dogs barking and the sounds of general mayhem that were apparently nothing unusual, judging by her unruffled demeanor. "Kinney here," Brian said. "I'm interested in one of the kittens in your ad, are they still available? The one looking into the camera...yeah, that one. Four o'clock? I'll be there...yes, I know where that address is. Thank you."
*****
At five o'clock, Brian felt the onset of a throbbing headache as he carefully set the small transport box on the hardwood floor of the loft. The place had been bedlam; more children and animals of diverse species cavorting helter-skelter through the large house than he could keep track of. One of them, a girl of about twelve, brought the kitten he'd specified, and he was a bit startled by how small the animal was, not being used to seeing many cats at all, let alone their tiny, fragile offspring. The kitten lay sprawled on his upturned hand, its little hind legs hanging over either side as it gazed at his face, the impossibly red nose twitching curiously. The tiny pointed ears flicked back in the direction of the woman's voice as she gave Brian a short account of the cat's likes and dislikes...short because there seemed to be no dislikes. "He's totally uncomplicated," she said. "What does he eat, any special brand?" "Oh, he eats anything. He's not finicky." "Does he have a name?" She seemed flustered. "Well, the kids have been calling him...um, well really, you can name him anything you like, actually." "So what have the kids been calling him?" "Uhh...um, Mubblechen." Brian blinked. "Mubblechen?" "We're Germans," she said, as if that explained everything. "Well okay, but...Mubblechen? What the f-- ... I mean, what does that mean?" "It's just a silly made-up name. Call him anything. Really. He's totally uncomplicated." Brian had placed the transport box on the passenger seat of the 'Vette for the ride home, carefully securing it with the seatbelt and buckling a suitcase harness around it and the seat for good measure. He drove at a speed that was a bit slower than usual, glancing at the cat every now and then. It sat on its hind legs, gripping the metal bars at the front of the box with its forepaws, its eyes fixed on Brian's face. "You're not gonna puke, are you?" he said warily. "Eeep, eep," it squeaked. "You better not. Bet you're glad to get out of that madhouse, huh?" "Meep!" "Yeah, no shit. Me too." Now he opened the metal grid door of the box and the kitten marched out, completely undaunted by its new surroundings. It gazed around the loft curiously, turning in a slow circle to take everything in. The litter box in the corner furthest from the kitchen space seemed to grab its interest and it padded over to it. Brian followed, then picked the animal up and set it on the clean litter he'd filled the plastic tub with. "Toilet," he explained, using a finger to demonstrate how to scratch a small furrow into the litter. The kitten's face displayed a disapproving frown, making him remember reading something about cats being one of the few creatures capable of mimicking human expression. It grabbed his finger and gave it a shove, away from the litter. Then it proceeded to dig its own furrow, briskly turned its back on Brian and squatted. The sound of a profuse stream being produced made Brian grin, even more so when the kitten, wearing a determined and grim expression on its face, turned to painstakingly cover the wet spot with clean litter. Then it climbed out and began to howl pathetically. "Holy shit," Brian said. What the fuck? Was it in pain? Was it sick after all? He watched as it began to paw at the rim of the littler box, mewling and complaining. He had an idea. "What, you want that cleaned out?" More pawing. More howling. He sighed and collected the small shovel that had come with the box and carefully lifted out the wet litter, dumping it into a trash container. The kitten watched silently, apparently approving of Brian's efforts to solve its dilemma. When he'd finished, it proceeded to climb onto his bare feet, rubbing against his ankles. He reached down to stroke it and it grabbed his hand in both forepaws while its hind legs paddled against his palm at breakneck speed. Baby teeth gnawed at his finger. "You want food?" Brian asked. He extracted his mauled hand and went to the kitchen area to scoop a portion of kitten food into one of the pet bowls on the floor, and to put clean water into the other. The cat scampered over eagerly, sniffed at the food and promptly began to scratch at the floor beside the bowl, its nose wrinkled in disgust. "What the fuck?" Brian said, "That's the best stuff on the market! Okay...lets try this..." Several opened cans later, Brian realized the kitten wasn't so much finicky as that it refused to eat kitten food. It wanted adult-cat food and was eagerly wolfing down the contents of the single can he'd bought. He sighed. Adult cat food it would be. He pulled on his shoes and jacket, heading for one of the nearby stores that sold that kind of thing. This cat was too much, he thought; totally uncomplicated my ass. Upon his return, the cat was curled up in a corner of the couch. The food in its bowl had been finished off. So had one of the designer vases gracing an end table, and Brian gritted his teeth as he swept up the shards. Next he uprighted an overturned lamp, at which point he discovered a path of tiny punctures running up the leather-covered back of the couch. Wonderful, he thought, just great; this much damage in fifteen minutes - how much havoc could it wreak in... he swallowed...a week and a half? He wondered if he could talk Justin into booking a flight the next day to collect his Christmas gift early and get it the fuck out of the loft. He wondered if it were possible to return it. That vase had cost a fucking mint...not to mention the designer couch... "Totally uncomplicated," he grumbled, swallowing three aspirin and washing them down with several swallows of Beam. He trudged to the couch and collapsed on it, stretching out and rubbing his eyes tiredly. The pills and a short nap would get rid of the headache - but what else lay in store for him? He turned on his side and began to drift off when he felt a tiny bundle of silky fur nestle itself under his chin, and a furry little head pillow itself on the side of his neck, where the soft vibration of a hushed purr tickled his skin. Shit. He thought he should be irritated, pissed about the expensive vase, the damaged sofa...He grinned and cupped his hand around the kitten's hindquarters, almost covering the tiny body completely. The small animal nestled closer, its purring sound calming his nerves; it was actually quite relaxing. Of course that could also be the effect of the Beam...he'd had quite a bit. Not likely that an animal...he didn't even care for animals, actually. It must be the Beam...sure it was the Beam...yeah...
*****
Later that night... "What the fuck?!" Brian bolted half upright in bed and pulled his feet back with a jerk. Away from a mouthful of tiny, needle-sharp teeth that had awakened him by sinking into his toes. In the half-darkness he watched as the kitten backed up and emerged from under the duvet, the button eyes studying him curiously before they narrowed and the kitten ducked, its chest almost touching the mattress, short tail batting back and forth. It seemed to suddenly fly off the bed in a leap and pounced, claws outstretched, and landed squarely on Brian's crotch. Brian screamed, horrified, yanking the kitten back and the section of the duvet it had hooked its claws into with it. It quickly dropped the duvet, twisted around and mauled the hand holding it airborne with teeth and claws, hind legs madly paddling at Brian's arm. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Fuck!" He gritted his teeth and set the animal on the floor beside the bed as gently as possible. "Go away!" He ordered. He flopped back into bed, wondering how often the furred piranha had attacked his toes that night already and if he'd ever sleep undisturbed again. Presently the sound of kitty litter being dug at filled the loft, followed by a short silence and then more digging. Desolate mewling and howling assaulted his ears. Brian groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. When he woke up a few hours later, groggy and disoriented from lack of sleep, the loft was silent. He rose wearily and noticed the kitten, curled up and fast asleep on the pillow next to his own. He shook his head, leaning over it, but it seemed to be out like a light. A quick shave and a shower, getting dressed and he felt almost good as new. The cat seemed to have left the loft intact during the hours he'd been allowed to sleep - only his cowrie shell bracelet was missing without a trace. He sighed, deciding to look for it later, and used the few minutes he had left to put fresh water and food into clean bowls, setting them on the placemat he'd put on the floor for the kitten to eat on. Despite their reputation for cleanliness, he'd soon discovered cats were incredibly sloppy eaters - more food seemed to end up on the floor than in the cat. Hearing him handle its food bowls, the kitten came trotting over, blinking at him sleepily. He glared. "So where's my fucking bracelet, you little terrorist?" "Eep-meep," the kitten squeaked.
*****
Later that week... "You fuckin' look like shit," Debbie remarked as she refilled Brian's coffee cup. Brian rubbed his eyes, hoping she'd just go away. She didn't. He felt her inquiring stare and listened to her maul her chewing gum for a good thirty seconds before he dragged his eyes to her face. "It doesn't sleep, Deb," he said. He thought his voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "It doesn't sleep, doesn't let me sleep, it drives me up the fucking wall unless I do what it wants when it wants, it doesn't like its food. And it stole my fucking bracelet, Deb. My bracelet. It stole it." Debbie stared at him, snapping her gum, her brows drawn together in concerned confusion. Presently she nodded, patted Brian on the head and turned, slowly making her way back to the diner's kitchen.
*****
Later that day... Brian slid the loft door shut before he turned in the direction of the happy and excited mewling near his feet. The kitten stood on its hind legs, clutching the material of his pants. When he bent to pet its outstreched head, it dropped to the floor, curled itself around his feet, grabbed the toe of his shoes and began to gnaw at the expensive Italian leather. He caressed its stomach and felt its hind legs start to paddle at his hand. He picked it up and he and the kitten studied each other before it nestled itself under his chin, purring loudly. "So am I going to get some sleep tonight?" he asked. "Eeep-eep!" "I figured that." The kitten sniffed at his neck and its rough tongue scraped at his skin as it began to groom him fastidiously, its purr increasing in volume. Brian laughed.
*****
Christmas eve, Brian dimmed the lights in the loft and checked that the dead bolt on the door was in place, preventing the door from being opened unexpectedly. Justin would be in any minute, and Brian didn't want him to discover his surprise before he'd have a chance to properly present it. The kitten watched him curiously, aware something strange was going on. Brian suddenly realized the animal had never been confronted by anyone else in the loft before; he'd even avoided bringing tricks home, not wanting to upset the cat. Fifteen minutes later, he heard the metal scrape of Justin's key in the lock, then his name being called from the other side of the door when the dead bolt prevented it from opening. He slid the door back just enough to squeeze outside and into the hallway, shut it behind him and turned to Justin's beaming face. "Brian!" Justin laughed and was promptly crushed against him in a hug that nearly lifted him off the floor. "Oh man, it's great to be back! What's going on? Why is --" Brian silenced Justin with a kiss, then drew back and put a finger over his lips. "Sshh - close your eyes." "What?" "Just do it, it's a surprise." Justin laughed and squeezed his eyes shut, and Brian slid the door back and propelled him into the loft, closing the door behind them. "Stay there - don't look," he instructed. He found the kitten on the couch and picked it up, carrying it over while he petted it reassuringly, stopping in front of Justin. "OK, you can look now." Justin slowly opened his eyes, and when Brian carefully settled the kitten into his arms they popped open in astonishment. "Oh my god! Brian!" Brian smirked, biting his lip, pleased with Justin's reaction. "Merry Christmas, Sunshine." "Holy shit! Oh wow, Brian, this is..." Justin seemed rapt with surprised disbelief, petting and cuddling the kitten, who seemed to endure the excitement with stoic patience, its eyes fixed on Brian's face. Justin laughed, kissing Brian and almost seeming to want to jump up and down like a five-year-old. "This is unbelievable - it's perfect! Thank you!" "Yeah well, remember to thank me again after you haven't slept for a week and a half." But Justin's attention was more on the kitten than on Brian, at least for the moment. "Huh?" "Never mind." "Does it have a name?" "Well, um, I guess you can call it anything you want." Justin rubbed the kitten's stomach and it began to purr loudly. "You look like a Charlie to me, cat. I think we'll name you Charlie."
*****
Justin's POV: I still couldn't believe he did that. Buying me a house complete with stables was easier to believe than this, knowing Brian. He showed me where everything he'd bought for the kitten was kept, including a vast array of single-portion tins of food ("He's incredibly finicky," he explained. "One tin probably won't do; you'll be lucky to find something he likes on the third try."). We fed the kitten and I watched Brian's amazement as it began to wolf down the contents of the first tin, and I couldn't stop grinning like a loon; both at the cat, at Brian, and at realizing he'd probably do anything to make me happy - even sacrifice a loft full of expensive furniture to tiny claws and sharp teeth. I'd noticed the couch was full of punctures already, and more than one breakable object that had been here before had mysteriously disappeared. I almost felt a twinge of guilt when Brian's fingers hooked into the beltloops of my jeans and he pulled me toward him; I'd been so caught up with the kitten I'd practically been ignoring him, and here he hadn't seen me for weeks on end. Weeks that were basically miserable for me; it wasn't only the loneliness I'd told him about, and of course missing him. New York just wasn't home to me, and it probably never would be - as successful as I hoped to be there, every time I came back I realized there were things that would always have priority over that. But I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind for the moment; if we discussed that at all it could wait. He had my full attention now anyway, grinning at me and backing up toward the bedroom, pulling me along by the beltloops. Then he was kissing me, and I slung my arms around his neck, everything else forgotten as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I lost myself at this point every time I came back, in his warmth, in his scent and taste and the way he kissed me; it made my toes curl, and every time I was sure I'd never been kissed like that before, ever, by anyone. Our shirts came off button by button, and it was almost too slow for me. Finally they were on the floor and he was backing me toward the bed, tumbling onto the mattress unceremoniously with me still wrapped in his arms. We pushed together, hands roaming and caressing. I realized I was moaning and making sounds as he kissed me and rubbed his hard cock against mine, but I didn't care; grabbing handfuls of his hair, I sucked his tongue into my mouth as if I wanted to swallow him whole - and somehow I did want to. I slid my hands into the waistband of his jeans, grabbing and shoving, still kissing him and realizing drool was running down my face after a while, but I didn't care about that either. I only broke the kiss to gasp for breath when I felt his hands slide upwards, pinching and fondling my nipples, and then his mouth was there to lick and suck. I grabbed at his hair again, feeling like the hardening nubs were somehow hot-wired to the head of my dick. He moved lower, kissing my stomach and plunging his tongue into my navel at the same time his fingers were unbuttoning my jeans. I raised up slightly so he could pull them off along with my underwear and let everything drop in a heap. The rest of his own clothing joined mine on the floor right after, and then he was moving against me again, warm and naked, kissing me, and I wrapped myself around him and I don't think there was any part of us that wasn't touching, or being touched, or kissed. Brian was inching down my body again and it seemed to arch and writhe into his touch of its own accord. I couldn't keep still, especially when he pushed my legs apart with his hands, kissing the insides of my thighs and making me jerk involuntarily when he swiped his tongue over the head of my dick. His hands were roaming over my stomach and I grabbed them reflexively. "No," I gasped, "Brian - no." He laughed softly. "No?" Shit! His tongue was snaking up the vein on the underside and I could barely catch my breath. "Brian, I'll come and I don't want to yet!" "You worry too much," he said, and the next thing I knew was the hot, wet suction of his mouth wrapped around my dick, the pressure pulling and sliding up and down, seemingly right up into my bellybutton, making my stomach muscles clench and quiver, and my hands grab at the sheets. I threw my head back, feeling my face flush with heat, beyond stopping him now. But he pulled back after a moment, kissing a trail back up to my face as he gently took hold of my balls and tugged them back from where they'd contracted against my body, fooling it into thinking it hadn't just been about to come and turning me into a quivering mess underneath him, kissing me. "See?" he said. I laughed. He was kissing me, letting me calm down and get my breath back, brushing my hair back with his fingers, lips moving over my face, my neck, nuzzling my ears and giving me chills when he whispered he wanted to fuck me. I smiled, my hands stroking his hard cock, moving it against my own on my stomach. "I know." I grabbed one of the throw pillows and pushed up against him, working it under my hips so I was slightly elevated while he rummaged for lube and a condom, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth. He let a small dribble of lube drop into the tip of the condom ("Better friction that way," he'd explained, noticing my puzzled expression the first time I'd witnessed it) and quickly rolled it on. More lube in his fingers, warming there as he leaned close to kiss me again. I felt his slick fingers caressing, probing, the slippery wetness of the lube as I let myself relax and let him inside me; moaning into his kisses and sucking on his tongue when he slid a finger about two-thirds in and then another, crooking both upwards. I broke off the kiss and leaned my face against the side of his neck, gasping; it was like spiraling heat moving upward, tingling through my body until I thought I could even feel it under my finger- and toenails, in the head of my cock. I was almost begging him to fuck me before I realized I was saying it, and then he was pushing into me, slowly; I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him in and pushing upwards, wriggling against him. The crazy-making feeling intensified as he moved inside me, until I felt as if I was quaking to pieces even though I knew I was probably barely trembling. He slid his arms under me, one around my waist, the other across my back and shoulders, pulling me as close as possible, his breath huffing in my ear. I knew I was grabbing at him hard, my nails digging into his back and about to draw blood but when I tried to loosen my grip my fingers only obeyed for seconds at a time, then I was lost in the intense sensations again, moaning against his shoulder, his ear, his name, over and over. I thought I was about to come again and again, but the feeling went on and intensified; it was teetering on the brink forever, blood pounding and slick with sweat. I wanted to come and didn't, wanted it to go on and on, and then I realized I was, was about to -- "Brian!" I panted frantically. His hand that had been gripping my hip let go and he slid his arm out from under me, quickly moving his hand between our bodies. I was only vaguely aware of his fingers moving to the area just behind my balls, pressing down and in firmly just as intense, warm spasms rolled like crescening waves, outward from the pit of my belly where his cock was still moving inside me and into my own, upward past my middle, making my nipples buzz, and into my spine. I was gasping and clutching him, twitching against him, and coming - yet not, his pressing index and middle fingers preventing me from shooting and keeping it inside me, and when the spasms faded I was just as hard as before. He stopped moving and kissed my face, letting me get my breath back. My heart pounded in my chest, I was soaked in sweat and now I was quivering, letting my body settle down and figure out what the fuck had just happened. His lips were nestled against my ear and I heard him laugh softly. "Holy fuck, Brian," I whispered. "If you say so," he chuckled. My own soft laughter turned to sighs and then moans as he moved inside me again, this time so slow it was almost unbearable, luscious torture, his hands on either side of my face, damp forehead pressed to mine. He brought me back to the edge gradually, eyes on my face, kissing me to silence my whispered pleas for him to fuck me harder, faster. After a while he did, his face sinking into the crook of my neck, ragged breath hot on my skin, and I knew he was close himself by the way he was tensing, his fingers curled around my shoulders. He shifted his position slightly and thrust upward inside me, and more shallowly, nudging my prostate hard each time. "Oh god!" I was half-sobbing, coming within seconds without either one of us even touching my dick, the forceful spasms quivering through me again and this time come spilled out onto my stomach and chest by the second one; at the same time Brian was shuddering against me, groaning, his grip so tight it was almost painful, but I was too carried away for it to fully register. By the time it could have, our fingers were already loosening their death-grips on each other, and I felt myself relax and sink into the mattress under him. We didn't move or speak for a long time. I caressed his back and arms, letting my eyes close and my thoughts drift, etching every detail of the last hour into my memory, knowing it wouldn't be very long until all I could do was replay memories for yet more weeks and weeks. It was so great to be back, but I longed for the time when I was here without the spectre of yet another "good-bye" looming in the background, and I realized this had gotten worse with each visit. I knew I had to do something, and I wondered how to broach the subject without Brian freaking out. About opportunities I'd waste, about imaginary sacrifices I'd be making for his sake - when it took me all this while to realize I went to New York more to make Brian happy than myself, and what I'd said to Lindsay long ago was true; my greatest opportunity was with him. I wondered if he'd hold it against me, if he'd feel the sacrifices he'd made himself to make my career possible had been a waste. I even wondered if he'd let me come back, or if he'd throw me out, thinking he was going to make me happy even if he had to force me. But I had to do something. I didn't want to go back - there was nothing there I wanted to go back to. I felt him stir and opened my eyes when he leaned up, hearing him laugh softly at the same time I heard the high-pitched squeaks sound beside us. The kitten. I hadn't even heard it jump up on the bed. Brian picked it up and it started to purr as he petted it. "I wonder when he'll be able to meow properly," Brian said, grinning. "He still sounds like a guinea pig." I laughed when Brian set the kitten on my chest and it sniffed at my face, whiskers tickling. I rubbed the tiny ears and the kitten leaned against my hand for a moment, but then it climbed back down and began to rub its head against Brian's arm, purring loudly. "I think it likes you better," I said. I was only half-kidding, it really did seem that way, but I figured it just wasn't used to me yet. I wondered if it would miss Brian as much as I would when I went back and took it with me. The thought was depressing.
*****
A couple of days later... "Shit!" Brian exclaimed. He was running late to meet Michael at Woody's for a post-Christmas get-together and balanced on one foot, half in and half out of his jeans. "Justin! Justin, get it the fuck out of the curtains!" Justin bit back a grin as he reached up to pluck the kitten out of the sheer material, noticing the holes when he carefully disengaged its claws. He cradled it and petted it reassuringly, amused at the puzzled expression on its face as it watched Brian bitch about its antics. "Why does it do shit like that?" he was grumbling. "It's just a baby, Brian," Justin said. "It doesn't know any better. Besides, you have to play with it and keep it busy, I bet it's bored. I bet half the shit that happened wouldn't have happened if it were kept entertained more." "Yeah well, you read the books, Dr. Spock," Brian grumbled. He grabbed his keys and rushed out after giving Justin a quick kiss on the mouth and the kitten a brief pat on the head.
*****
Several hours later... Brian glanced at the caller ID on his cell and promptly answered. Justin was frantic. Brian put a hand over his other ear to mute the loud music and general noise in the bar, interrupting Justin's stream of babble. Something about the cat. "Calm down," Brian said. "Tell me again, what happened?" "It's gone! Shit, Brian! I went out to pick up something to eat, came back and when I opened the door it was - right there! I didn't even see it. By the time I saw it, it was out the door and running down the stairs - Jesus, it's so frigging *fast*, Brian, I didn't stand a chance, couldn't catch it, and--" "Where are you now?" Brian asked. "I'm in the basement, it might have run down here. God, I hope nobody opened the front door, what if it ran outside and gets hit by a car? Shit!" "Call it, maybe it'll come out from somewhere." "Well duh, Brian, what do you think I've been doing?" "What are you calling it?" "What do you mean? Charlie of course, what do you think?" Brian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit. "It's not going to know that's its name, it might not respond. I'm not sure if cats respond to their names at all, I have no idea." Justin was silent for a moment. "Well what did you call it?" "Try Mubblechen." "Shit Brian, what the fuck is that?" "Just give it a try, maybe --" "You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" "Look, do you want to try that or not? Listen, I'm on my way, just keep looking, all right?" "Brian--!" But Brian snapped the cell shut, cutting off Justin's irritated voice and headed for the exit, grinding his teeth. Fuck, he thought, it had to be someplace, it couldn't have gotten far. Why couldn't Justin be more careful? And what would happen in New York when he was alone, and the only one responsible for the cat? What if something terrible happened? What if something terrible had already happened?
*****
Twenty minutes later, Brian slid open the door to the loft. He'd spent almost ten minutes walking around the building and peering under cars and into the shadows of doorways in case it really had escaped through the front door, but there was no sign of anything four-legged. Neither was there any sign of Justin or the kitten in the basement. The loft was in semi-darkness and quiet, and Brian bit his lip, worry twisting his stomach. "I'm here, Brian." Justin's voice drifted over the back of the couch and Brian walked over, wondering what he'd find. He realized he'd been holding his breath and let it out with a sigh of relief when he found Justin lying there on his back, the kitten curled up on his chest, obviously on the verge of sleep, its paws softly kneading at the material of his T-shirt. "Jesus Christ, Justin, you freaked the shit out of me," Brian said, and realized it was true. Justin smiled. "You were right - it was hiding in the basement and when I called it I heard it squeaking in a corner. It really does answer to its name, but I guess it doesn't want to be named Charlie." "Shit, that's...well, Christ, Justin, you have to be more careful!" "And look what else turned up." Justin reached into a pocket of his jeans and Brian grinned when he saw the cowrie shell bracelet unfurl and dangle from Justin's fingers. "I brought it back up and when I sat on the couch it started digging in the cushions, and it dragged this out." Grinning, Brian sat down beside Justin and took the bracelet, smoothing it and inspecting it for damage. Then his expression turned serious again. "Justin, I mean it. You really have to watch out for it when you go in and out. Real shit could happen, especially in New York, especially with all the traffic right outside your door." Justin was silent for a moment, studying the cat. "I'm not going back to New York. I don't want to go back." "So when'd you decide this?" Justin shrugged, his eyes still on the sleeping kitten. "Dunno. I guess it was never a decision, it was, um, more like an inevitable development considering the progression of...um, recent events. I guess." Brian thought for a moment. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "I never wanted to go in the first place." "Then why did you go?" "I thought you wanted me to go," Justin said. Then he grinned. "Besides, you wouldn't leave me with the total responsibility for this cat would you? And I couldn't leave it here with you, you'd be a wreck within a month because you can't handle it and it makes a monkey out of you." "Does not." "Does too." Brian sighed. "So this means I have to put up with the both of you? For good?" Justin was about to answer when the kitten lifted its head, blinking at Brian sleepily. "Eeep-eep!" "You tell him...Mubblechen," Justin said, and grinned. THE END