Newt gets Graves a kitten, because he knows how helpful animals
are in the healing process and while it’s been a year since Grindelwald, some
scars just don’t want to fade away. Those tricky scars of the heart.
So he gets Graves a kitten. A small, fluffy kitten with blond
wisps of hair and eyes too big for its head. Feeble in its youth. Its cries are
more chirping than cat-like. He puts a big, floppy bow around its neck - the
red ribbon practically bigger than its whole body and giving it the illusion of
wings - before quietly slipping into the bedroom they share.
“This is him,” Newt whispers into the little kitten’s too large
ears, lifting him up and out to show him the slender back of the man laying in
bed before them - dead asleep. “Now off you go, just like we discussed.”
And then he sets the little beast down and lets it loose. He
watches as it determinedly wobbles to the bed, obviously set on a goal. Smiles
as it sets its tiny claws into the soft silk of their sheets and climbs the
tall rise of their bed. Walks closer to watch as the little fur ball then makes
an unsteady beeline for the man in the bed – as though completely aware of what
Newt had said to him when walking home with him this morning from the shelter.
He can’t stop himself from laughing when the little beast
finally makes it to Graves’ face. It reaches out with a tiny paw and taps his
face kindly, as though asking for attention, before finally flat out sitting on
the man’s face.
Graves jerks up, eyes wide and hair sticking out in every which
way, and blinks first at the now upended little fur ball on his pillow, then at
Newt – bewildered and confused from waking. Newt only laughs harder as he
watches Graves slowly try to connect the dots, everything moving slowly from
sleep. His hands seem impossibly large as he gathers the struggling little
kitten up to better study it.
Bright green eyes, blonde fluffy coat, tiny little paws and a
soft little chin that it rests atop his knuckles, staring up at him. Newt sees
it the moment something melts in Graves – too tired and too early to hide the
emotion before Newt can see.
“Do you like him?” Newt asks, bemused as his partner’s eyes rise
from over top the little cat to stare at him, baffled and sleepy.
“I don’t understand,” Graves says, and Newt feels another piece
of his heart melt for the man currently naked and in his bed, holding a kitten
and blinking sleepily at him.
“He’s mine?” Graves repeats.
“Yes,” Newt chuckles.
“You got me a cat?” Graves asks, eyes falling back down on the
Newt pauses, suddenly worried that this had been a rash
decision. He shouldn’t have surprised his partner with something so big, that
required such a commitment, without talking to him first. His thoughts begin to
tail spin. His hands tremble as he wrings them.
“I, uh – yes. That is… if you want him?”
Graves just squints at him for a long moment before suddenly collapsing
back into the bed again, taking the kitten with him.
“That’s great,” Graves mumbles into his pillow, the kitten
tucked happily beneath his chin and purring merrily away. “Kitten Newt won’t
leave me alone in my bed at hideously early hours every morning.”
Newt squawked, indignant; a huge and spreading smile on his face
despite his affronted tone.
“You’re replacing me?!”
“Move over, I’m coming in there.”
“Nope, I have kitten Newt now. There’s no more need for you in
my bed,” Graves says, one eye cracking open to catch Newt’s gaze as he smiles,
unable to hide his mirth.
“Oh you’re going to get it,” Newt growls as he stalks the bed.
“Not in front of kitten
Newt!” Graves gasps, dramatic and scandalized.
Newt crawls onto the bed where he’d normally sleep and gently
covers the little kitten’s eyes with one finger, ignoring its plaintive little
meow as he leans forward to capture Graves’ lips in a soft, sleepy kiss.
“Thank you,” Graves whispers into his lips after their kiss.
i know this probably will sound completely unbelievable, i have a hard time believing it myself sometimes. but it’s the truth.
a few years ago, i lived with my best friend, now the godmother of my children. she’s the most incredible soul. but that’s another subject.
anyway, i lived with her. at some point, i decided i wanted a pet. my roommate already owned one large dog, so we decided it would be best- and i decided i was happiest- to get a cat. specifically, a female cat. i talked about it with her extensively, while i collected things i wanted to have before i brought the cat home. i had told her i wanted to wait for a solid black cat with green eyes, but by chance, i came across an old friend who offered me a kitten who needed to be adopted out quickly. of course i would take her. i was so thrilled, i had her all set up with everything you could imagine a cat to have. she was my princess. she was the runt of her litter, a black and white, meek little thing. so precious.
i’d had her for about a week, maybe less. one night at work- my roommate and i also worked together and carpooled at the time- toward the end of our shift, i got this really bad feeling in my stomach about my kitten. i was really anxious that something was wrong, that something terrible was happening to the kitten (i told my roommate as much). i told myself a thousand times, there’s no logical way that, and even if my kitten was somehow in harm’s way, that i could “sense” it without any evidence whatsoever. (i told my roommate this as well.) but i couldn’t shake it.
on the way home, i envisioned how silly i would feel when i got home and rushed upstairs to my bedroom and find my healthy, little kitten, comfortably waiting for me. i held this image in my mind over and over.
but when we got home, my kitten was in the corner of my closet, weak, limp, and wheezing.
forward two hours, and the veterinarian is telling me the kitten’s lungs didn’t develop properly. that her lungs were too small to support her growing size, and there was nothing to be done to save her- my options were to let her die the slow, agonizing death of suffocation, or to allow the veterinarian to humanely put her down.
after i signed the consent forms and paid all the fees for the merciful option,
i went outside and lost my mind. i was hysterical. this little thing relied on me for life, and when i had a physical instinct regarding her, i denied and ignored it. only for it to have been so, so right. i was devastated, to say the least. i can’t tell you why. of course losing a pet hurts everyone, it’s awful. but i reacted very drastically. it really felt like my heart had been shredded inside my chest. so much guilt.
i went home and downed two bottles of - honestly, rather strong- wine, while crying in my bedroom and punishing myself. i ended up going to some small party with some people i knew at the time, and continued drinking. i woke up at a friend’s house- safe and unharmed, but with a wicked hangover.
about that time, my roommate calls me and asks where i am. i explain the situation. she tells me i need to be home, and offers to pick me up. i tell her where i am.
i get home, and she takes me to my room. at this point, i realized she must have done something to cheer me up.
we stand in my room for a few moments, waiting for something, and then have a conversation that went something like this:
me: i’m a little confused. her: honestly, me too. i brought you something, but now i don’t see her… me: her? her: … i got you a kitten. i know it won’t be the same, and i know it’s really soon. but what happened wasn’t your fault, i had a bad feeling about the whole thing- ever since that person first approached you about it. they had to know she was too little, and they adopted her out anyway. me: so… you got me a kitten? and put her in here, and now she’s gone?
we looked all throughout that room, every even remotely possible hiding place or escape route. nothing. there was no way out of the room, especially considering it was second floor with no opening windows. we scoured the room. we started to think we were losing our minds. we sat down the floor, and just as she started to apologize and try to come up with an answer to this lost kitten… i saw two, big, round, green eyes open up in the farthest back corner on the bottom shelf of my black bookcase.
we gently lured her out. she was this little, solid black kitten. with green eyes.
my roommate had spent the entire night locating, specifically, this cat. she was in a neighboring city’s pound, she was called “#4″ out of a group of numbered kittens which were picked up on Ostara. Despite being part of the group, she was the only cat given an isolated cage. (i also should mention that the number 4 or 44 is, and has always been, my roommate’s lucky number.) she adopted her, and brought her home to me, in an attempt to give me an outlet for all of the emotions i was having.
normally, i couldn’t just replace a lost pet overnight. i am painfully sensitive to death. but i couldn’t deny all of the coincidences in this cat, as though she was meant for me.
admittedly, it took me a long time to bond with this kitten. she was incredibly shy and skittish for the first few months i had her. where my lost kitten was always happy to sit in my lap, sleep in my arms- this cat scarcely let me pet her. among other things.
i did love her, but i felt so much more guarded about her. i didn’t let myself adore her like i had before.
but forward a few years later, and this cat (now named ‘Q’ in honor of my roommate and i’s friendship) has seen me through some absolutely terrible times. she’s been with me through awful experiences, ones too coarse to share. she’s developed a personality that is so real, so close, so human-like, that only i have ever witnessed.
she does things in front of only me that i can’t believe a cat could do. i’ve seen her pick up pieces of milk-soaked cereal in her paw and eat them one at a time, i’ve seen her catch a fly in one paw on multiple occasions, and then release it. she comes when i call her by name, every single time, no matter who is around, no matter what time it is, no matter what she is doing. if she’s asleep, she will wake up to me calling her- and she comes to me. she is now more affectionate with me than i can sometimes handle. she will nuzzle and cuddle endlessly if i let her, she will chirp so quietly that only i can hear. she will spend enormous amounts of time gazing into my eyes. she lets me rub and kiss her stomach. the bond i have with this cat is… just ridiculous. the stories and memories with her, are absolutely ridiculous. it’s ridiculous how many little quirks and characteristics about her i have memorized. i have not one, but two tattoos for this cat- one including her name and the number 4- and plan on eventually having her portrait tattooed.
i’ve always playfully said that she is an old soul, who has been a human many times before already. when i talk to her, i know something is happening in that little head of hers.
and maybe i’m an absolutely crazy cat lady, or maybe she’s my ‘familiar,’ or maybe some combination of both. but this is (the short) version of the story of Q.
A/N: Happy (Belated) Birthday @captainlbradz! I know how you have been on a Killian with a cat kick lately, so I figured I’d add to it :) Plus, there’s some heavy Captain Charming in here, since it is Captain Charming Week and all ;) I love you, my dear. And thank you to @spartanguard who looked it over, and to @cocohook38 for the extra gifts in the form of these wonder art pieces. I hope you like it!!!
“Dad, I’m worried about Killian.” Emma leaned against her desk at the sheriff’s office, looking down at her father, who was engrossed in the day’s edition of The Storybrooke Mirror. When he didn’t immediately acknowledge her, she ripped the paper from his hands and turned it to she could see just what he was reading. “Really? The comics?”
“What? I love Garfield,” David admitted while turning slightly rosy in the cheeks.
“Did you even hear what I said? Or was your mind too occupied with thoughts of lasagna?” she asked flippantly.
“I’m sorry. What’s wrong with Hook? Is he alright?” There was a sudden urgency to his tone now that he was paying attention.
Emma pulled out the chair at her desk and sat down, looking at her father earnestly. “I think he’s lonely.”
“What do you mean? He has you, Henry…me…” Emma couldn’t help but smile at the way his tone lightened when he said “me.” The bond between her father and her pirate may have started rocky, but it definitely has strengthened over time. She and Snow had shared many a laugh over how close they have gotten.
“I know that, but Henry is only there so often, and then when we go to work, he’s at the house by himself.”
David contemplated what Emma was telling him, and it didn’t take long for an idea to form. Emma would thank him later, he was sure of it.