Disclaimer: I don't own the Scarecrow. I wish I did, but I don't. Of course, not owning things doesn't always stop me from using them...but they don't pay me for flying the space shuttle, now do they?
Not that I've ever...you know...borrowed that...
Anyway. This is a CATfic, written just today and therefore not on the www. freewebs. com/ catverse timeline. I said I was going to post a chapter per day, and then I missed the last two (bad day followed by a recovery day) so consider this a makeup fic. It takes place...oh, let's say between BiteMeTechie's "The Meaning of Lurve" and my "Aquatic Nocturne."
The Captain was sitting on the floor weeping, Techie was spinning around in a chair, and the moment Al saw him, she pulled him down onto the couch, sprawled across his lap, and fell asleep. It wouldn't take a psychologist of Jonathan Crane's intellect to see what was going on.
"You're drunk."
"Hiiiiiiiiii," Techie said, halting her spin with some difficulty. He couldn't tell if that was a greeting or a correction.
"Do I dare ask what you've been doing today?"
"Nope!" She resumed spinning.
Crane tried to raise Al up enough to slide out from under her. She resisted. Of course she resisted. Stubborn girl; even when she was unconscious, he couldn't make her behave properly. He tried pushing her off instead. Then it occurred to him that none of the girls would be in any condition to clean up the blood if she cracked her head open on the coffee table. He pushed it away with his foot.
In doing so, he shifted Al to a different position on his lap. Her shirt rode up, giving him a glimpse of something grey on her back, just below the waistband of her jeans.
Was that...?
He caught hold of a belt loop, firmly ignoring the implications of pulling this woman's pants down. He was only trying to get a better look...
It was a cat. A kitten. A stylized blue-eyed kitten, curled up and yawning.
"It's a tattoo?"
Techie fell off her chair.
"Neeeeeeedles..."
The Captain had stopped crying and was looking around the room in surprise, as if wondering where she was and how she had gotten there.
"Did we do that?" She pulled out the collar of her shirt to look down at her chest. "Oh, hey! Kitty!" She giggled with delight.
Crane let his head fall back.
"You all got tattoos? Of...kitties?"
"Mine has string," Techie announced proudly.
"You idiots gave yourselves permanent identifying marks. Was this before or after you got drunk?"
"Um...between."
"During," the Captain corrected.
"No, between. There was the bar, and the kitties, and the other bar."
"Kitty sandwich!" Her face fell. "I made myself sad."
Al snuggled closer. He felt his right eye start to twitch.
"What made you think this was a good idea?"
"They had a special," said Techie. "Buy one, get one free." She hopped up. "Wanna see where I put the Batsignal?"
"No."
"It's on her ass," the Captain said, like a tattling baby sister.
"I said--I don't want to know that!" He shoved Al away. She rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud.
"Suckface," she mumbled.
Crane ignored the sound of hysterical laughter as he escaped to his lab.
Idiots! They were lucky he didn't just...just...tell their mothers! Tattoos. The Batsignal! Morons!
Actually...if their mothers were anything like they were, telling on them might be a fitting punishment after all...
--
Meanwhile, upstairs, the laughter had wound down, and Techie and the Captain were staring at the ceiling, which was spinning around in an altogether fascinating manner.
"Are we going to tell him they're just temporary?" the Captain asked. Techie giggled.
"No. Where's the fun in that?"
"He's not happy. He should be happy. Happy is...happy."
"Oh, what's he going to do about it? Ground us?"
"Spank us?" the Captain agreed, and started to laugh again.
"Call our moms," Al mumbled without opening her eyes.
They stopped laughing.
"No. He wouldn't."
"He might."
"He wouldn't think of it."
"He might!" The Captain leaped to her feet. "SQUISHY!"
She fell flat on her face without managing to take a single step. Techie rolled over slowly.
"Okay...we're in trouble."