“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Dark Castle Fluff
Rumple was used to the strange noises the Dark Castle made; it was an old, creaky building long before he moved in. Of course in recent months the castle had acquired some new sounds; off key singing, gentle snoring and the occasional lady like cry of annoyance, (that one was usually accompanied by the smell of burning). Rumple had become accustom to all the little noises that indicated of Belle’s presence in his home, but his little maid could not be responsible for his basket of straw mewling. He frowned at the basket and gave it a prod with his finger.
Straw could have points but nothing so sharp it would leave the angry red scratches on the back of his hand. He poked among the steams more cautiously and gave a triumphant shout when he caught the culprit by the scruff of the neck.
“Oh that’s where you got to Priscilla.”
Rumple looked at between the ball of ginger fur dangling meekly from his grip and Belle.
“Priscilla? You named this vicious, flea-bag Priscilla?”
Belle tutted at him a scooped the moggy from his hand; “You’re not vicious are you Priscilla?”
Rumple made a sound of outrage and held his injured hand up in front of Belle’s face. She batted it away and cooed over the damn cat.
“Did Rumple startle you? Where had you hidden yourself, hey?”
“It was in my straw!”
“Was it warm there? Do we need to get you a blanket?”
Rumple growled under his breath; “You will do such thing, dearie. You will get rid of that damn little hell beast at once!”
Belle finally gave him her full attention. He shrank back a little under her the force of her glare.
“I will not,” She shoved the cat into his arms, “If you want to be a big, mean sorcerer and throw a poor defenceless cat out into a howling storm you can do it yourself!”
She stomped out of the great hall leaving him with his mouth hanging open and the cat butting its head into his chest demanding fuss. Absently he stroked Priscilla’s ears and wandered over to the window. A gentle rain pattered against the window pane.
“No exactly a howling storm is it?”
Priscilla meowed. Rumple sighed.
“You know if I did throw you out it’d be nothing but burnt meals and stewed tea for a week or more?”
There really was nothing for it the cat would have to stay.
“But I can’t have you in my straw. I don’t like spinning car fur.”
Priscilla watched with interest as Rumple waved his hand and magicked up a basket to sit by his spinning wheel. There was a plush pillow in the bottom, which after a bit of encouragement from Rumple the cat settled itself on and fell asleep. He stroked its ears once more before resuming his spinning.
“I suppose you are sort of cute, but honestly who ever heard of a dark sorcerer with a ginger tabby-cat?”
It wasn’t as if anyone would dare laugh at him, and the way that Belle smiled and placed a warm hand on his shoulder when she saw the sleeping cat made it all worth it.