Chapter Text
The door crashes open and Jim forces you through the bedroom door, straight to the bed. His short nails scrabble at your neck, the aggressive little shit. You pull them off, irritated, trap them behind his back. He struggles, but you kick at the back of his knee and push and he goes down, landing heavily on the mattress.
You pounce before he can get up again, pinning his wrists to the bed, smirking. He's got that fire in his eyes, which means this could very interesting. You get a knee between his legs and push up, and –
Mrrp
You pause. “Did you just mewl?”
“What?” Jim asks blearily.
“I swear I could've - ”
meep
Jim blinks and frowns. “Unless there's something very wrong with your vocal chords...”
You lean sideways and reach beneath the bed. Your hand closes on something soft and you pull it out. Holding up a kitten by the scruff of its neck.
It swipes at you.
“What,” you say flatly, “is a kitten doing beneath our bed.”
“No idea,” Jim says, studying the kitten with wide fascinated eyes.
“Sure? Haven't been using it for experiments or something?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don't know, you've pulled some weird shit over the years.” You turn it around and raise it to eye-level. It takes another swipe at your nose.
You put it down carefully on the duvet. It prances about for a bit, and then curls up right in the middle of the bed, its tiny eyes closed, fluffy tail curled around its body.
“I never had a pet,” Jim says thoughtfully.
“They're a nuisance. Food, cleaning up after... Not worth the bother.”
Jim runs his finger over the kitten's head and it starts to purr. “So you did have pets?”
“Dogs. On my uncle's estate, we went there each holiday.”
“Not a cat person, then?”
You grin. “You mean, am I good at dealing with little aggressive arrogant weirdly moody creatures on a regular basis?”
Jim looks up from his petting. “Not sure I like what you're implying, Seb.”
You snort. The kitten opens one eye and fixes it on you. It's a strangely calculating look.
“I could chuck it out the window,” you say. “Cats land on their paws, don't they?”
The kitten gives a very affronted mrrp.
“No, don't,” Jim says. “There might be something in what you said.”
“Sorry?”
“Experimenting. Many people have a cat, it would be an ideal opportunity.” He scratches its neck. “Death by kitten.”
“You'll get cat hair on your suits,” you try.
“I can put it on my lap and stroke it when I meet with clients.”
“Well, if you ever want a piranha-pond I'm leaving, just so you know.”
The kitten rolls over and bares its fluffy belly.
“Look at the little thing,” Jim coos.
“Yes, very adorable,” you say impatiently. “Now can you put it back on the floor and can we get on with what we were doing?”
He looks up from beneath his eyebrows. “Getting a bit agitated, Seb?”
“Don't fancy being cockblocked by a sodding kitten.”
He sighs. “Fine.” He puts the kitten back down on the floor with exceeding care, and then he grabs your shirt and pulls you off-balance, ending you up spread out underneath him.
You buck up and he presses down, goes straight for the throat. You arch again, his hand goes to your belt, and things would have gone splendidly if it wasn't for a soft muffled sound and the brush of something soft against your foot.
You jerk reflexively and only narrowly manage to avoid kneeing Jim in the bollocks. He pulls back and frowns. “What - ”
You sit up and nod at the end of the bed, where the kitten is sitting, watching the proceedings with every sign of interest.
Jim rolls his eyes and sweeps it off the bed with his foot. He turns back to you and grins, baring his teeth. “Now, where were - ”
thump
You look past Jim, at the kitten, which has stubbornly got back up onto the bed.
Jim pushes it away. It jumps up again. Jim picks it up and drops it on the floor, but again it clambers up, and when Jim reaches for it a third time it tries to bite his fingers.
“Right,” you say, and push Jim off you. You pick the kitten up by the scruff of its neck, cross the room, open the door and toss it into the living room.
“There,” you say, leaning back against the closed door. “No more bother.”
“Then get over here, will you?” Jim flashes his teeth. I'm getting impatient.”
You saunter over with a grin. Jim hooks his hand behind your knee and pulls you onto bed, on top of him. He winds his legs around your waist, crossing his ankles behind your back.
A soft scrabbling noise makes you pull back from his neck. “What...”
“Ignore it,” Jim snarls. He grabs your neck and forcefully pulls you down again. And after a minute or so, the scrabbling noise stops – which you barely notice, given where Jim's hand ended up. He tugs your shirt off, tearing the sleeve in the process. You wrestle with his belt, eager to get inside, and -
crash
Jim sits up in surprise, headbutting you in the nose.
“What the fuck?” you say, clutching your nose. Not broken, but still.
Jim gets off the bed and opens the door. You get up and follow him.
The carpet is covered in shards of what once was a precious Ming vase. And in the middle of the wreckage, daintily licking its paw, is the kitten.
“Still sure you want to keep it?” you ask idly.
Jim glares at the kitten. The kitten in question gives it an innocent blue-eyed stare straight back.
Meep?