So, fancy a fluffy contribution to ITF Social Media Sunday? Thought so!
This story does contain Simon/Kieren, but it's mostly fluff of Simon making new friends- friends of the feline variety, to be precise! I just want Simon to make friends :3
This is kind of quick and rubbish, but it's something! Enjoy! :D
Misery Loves Company
Simon trudged aimlessly through the bleak streets of Roarton, the smell of delicious tea he couldn't drink clinging to his nostrils. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy chatting with Kieren's parents (particularly his mum- he had a soft spot for that woman), but it wasn't quite the same when he couldn't even partake in the traditional cuppa.
It also wasn't the same without Kieren there with him.
The man in question had hopped on a flight to France not two days earlier, younger sister and a suitcase full of art supplies in tow. After her therapist had recommended she get out of Roarton for a while Kieren had decided the time was ripe for that long-postponed trip to Paris- time to escape the claustrophobic community and bad memories for a bit of quality brother/sister bonding time. Well, chances were he'd spend his days sitting in squares painting the scenery and she'd spend her days sleeping off hangovers, but considering that a few short weeks ago she'd barely been able to look her brother in his undead face it was a step in the right direction.
"You sure you'll be all right?" Kieren had asked, picking up his bag and stroking Simon's cheek. "Not too late to tag along."
"I can take care of myself, Kier," he'd said with a roll of his eyes. "Go on. You and Jem have a lot to sort out. I'll be fine."
"If yer sure," Kieren had said with a grin, leaning in to press one last lingering kiss to the Irish man's lips. "Take care- I'll see yeh in two weeks!"
Two days in and Simon was already regretting his decision.
"Feckin' Paris," he grumbled, kicking a pebble across the street.
He'd made the right choice, he knew that much- Kieren's primary objective was rebuilding his relationship with his sister, the last thing he needed was his boyfriend trailing behind him through one of the world's most romantic cities and not being able to do anything. Simon silently vowed to take him there again when Jem was feeling better- and this time, no family invited.
He was grinning at the thought when he heard a soft mewl from the ground behind him. He turned to the noise with a frown.
A small, ratty ginger cat gazed up at him with wide eyes, its bedraggled tail swishing in the air at its back. Once Simon turned around it mewed again. Maybe he was going mad, but it almost sounded sarcastic.
He stared it down, the cat's eyes never flinching.
"…Afternoon," he greeted it slowly.
Another meow, this one slightly brighter than the last.
Simon shook his head. "Christ, I'm talkin' to a cat."
He turned on his heel and kept on walking. The soft pitter-patter of paws on pavement followed him.
"Piss off," he muttered for the fiftieth time. As per usual, the cat paid no heed.
Two more days had passed, and every time he set foot outside the cat was waiting for him. After a couple of blocks it would leave him alone, only to magically reappear when he was back within half a mile of the bungalow.
"Jesus Christ, what d'you want?" he groaned, glaring at the unkempt ball of orange fluff trotting at his side. "I don't have any bleedin' catnip."
The cat mewled, staring up at him with big green eyes as he climbed the first step to the door. It hopped up onto a nearby wall, its tail sweeping against the stone as Simon unlocked the door. With a last glare at the persistent feline, he crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him.
Three hours later, and the sun was starting to set. Simon gazed up at the ceiling from where he'd flopped onto the bed shortly after entering, the book of poetry in his hand remaining unopened. He'd picked it up meaning to take his mind off how much he was missing Kieren, but he hadn't even got round to glancing at the first page.
He sighed heavily, rolling onto his side and pressing his face into the pillow. Christ, he was a mess- Kieren had been gone a grand total of four days and already he was bored out of his skull. He should really find a new hobby.
He had lifted his face from the pillow long enough to place the untouched book back on the table, when something caught his eye. He frowned, looking back at the window. There it was, sure enough- a small blob of orange in the weak glow of the ancient street lamp.
He stood up, pacing over the window and pulling the curtains back further. Yep, no doubt about it. The bloody cat was still there.
Simon rolled his eyes and turned back around, flopping face down on the bed. Whatever. If the bloody thing wanted to sit out there all night, so be it.
Five minutes later he was walking to the front door with a bowl of water in hand and muffled curses on his lips.
He sat down on the doorstep, setting the bowl beside him with a clink against the stone. Three seconds later the cat was there, lapping water from the bowl like it was a last meal.
"Thirsty, eh?" Simon said, nodding understandingly. "Me too. Have been for about five years."
The cat offered no answer.
Simon snorted. "And that's not even the feckin' saddest part," he grumbled. "Been in this house on my own for four damn days and I'm already talking to myself," he glanced at the cat, still lapping up water in thirsty gulps. "And to you, apparently."
The cat glanced up, meowing grumpily before returning to the bowl.
"Charming," Simon muttered. "Not really in a position to get smart with me, are yeh?" he tapped the bowl with his finger meaningfully. His eyes widened as the cat reached up and batted his hand with its paw. "Oh- you have a complaint?"
The cat watched his hovering hand cautiously for a moment. Then its tongue darted out, licking his finger and bumping it with its nose.
Simon blinked rapidly, taken aback by the oddly affectionate gesture. "…Thanks?"
The cat let out a small, grumbling meow before diving right back to the dish of water. Simon chuckled, reaching out to scratch behind its ears.
Well, it wasn't much, but it was company.
A long, frustrated meow shattered the silence of the lifeless street. Simon smirked.
"Hello, yourself," he muttered, reaching a hand down and feeling the cat's soft ginger head bop against his knuckles in greeting.
It was day nine of Kieren's absence, and since their moonlit heart to heart the cat had been greeting Simon with petulant meows on a daily basis. Of course, now that the thing knew it could get food and water out of the secretly soft-hearted zombie it was never anywhere else.
Simon sat down on the doorstep, placing the dish of milk (after stocking up for a visit from Kieren's parents he'd had some left over) at his side and chuckling as the mangy animal sprang forward and attacked the dish with gusto. Simon stroked its head between its ears like he did every day, smiling as he felt a low purr rumble from the creature's throat.
He'd learned a lot about his unusual feline friend in the few days they'd got to know each other. For one thing, it was obviously homeless- even when he went inside for the day he occasionally saw it outside, perched on the wall or climbing across the windowsills.
But it hadn't always been homeless. He could tell from the little scar on its belly- a surgical scar by the looks of it. He'd discovered it one day when the ridiculous animal had rolled over expecting a belly rub. Incidentally the same day Simon had finally figured out that it was a female cat. At first he'd suspected that the scar was something birth related- maybe she'd been carrying a litter and there had been complications. Did they give cats caesareans?
But after further observing the cat's patchy fur and bruised skin he'd realised the scar probably had a darker origin. Maybe a response to a harsh kick that had turned just a little too harsh.
He felt something heavy land on his lap and glanced down to see the cat curling herself up on his lap, padding around in circles and flexing her claws a little before finally settling down with her chin on his knees.
He ran his fingers along its back, unable to feel the warmth of her fur but enjoying the sensation of her gentle purrs. She never gave him any warning when she was about to do something affectionate- sometimes out of the blue she'd just plonk herself in his lap or wind around his legs for a few minutes before going right back to gazing at him from a few feet away with the cat equivalent of playful arrogance.
"You remind me of someone, y'know," he smiled as the cat rolled slightly onto her back and stretched its arms out in front of it. He shook his head slightly, rubbing small circles on the healthy part of its belly with his thumb and inciting more loud purrs. "Never know what's going on in that head of his…"
The cat let out a grumble and batted his hand with its paw. He laughed softly, returning his attention to her belly. "Sorry. I was going on about him again, wasn't I?"
Sometimes it felt like the stupid cat actually knew when he was obsessing over his absentee boyfriend, often jarring him back into reality with a hiss or an impatient swipe of its paw. He greatly appreciated the distraction.
A few minutes later the cat hopped off his lap, yawning and stretching as she wondered over to a fading patch of sun. Simon stood and brushed off his knees, picking up the empty dish as he wondered back to the door of the bungalow. Well, that was that- cat fed, meeting over. Back to endless hours on the couch watching the calendar.
He turned around one last time to shut the door, and found himself under scrutiny from the raggedy cat on the lawn. Big green eyes stared him down, slim tail swishing, perhaps impatiently. Perhaps expectantly.
"What?" Simon groaned, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. "What now?"
The cat didn't make a sound. Just maintained its piercing gaze.
"I don't have any feckin' treats," Simon grumbled.
Nothing.
"Oi, I bring you water from time to time, that's it," Simon argued, his voice rising. "I dunno what yer think this is, but in case you haven't noticed I'm not exactly looking for anything serious."
Not even a blink.
Simon held the implacable gaze for as long as he could.
It wasn't long enough.
"Fine," he muttered, pushing the door open further and gesturing impatiently. "Come in."
The cat practically leapt from her spot on the grass, bolting through the door like a streak of ginger lightning. Simon shook his head, shoving the door closed behind them.
"Don't get cocky," he muttered to her smug little face.
Five days after Simon gained his unlikely lodger, Kieren and Jem found themselves back on the solitary platform at Roarton station, weighed down by bags upon bags of filled-out canvases and souvenirs of varying degrees of tackiness.
Kieren grinned all the way back to the house, Jem chattering in his ear as they dragged the heaviest case along between them. The difference a few weeks away from the sheer grey-ness of their home village had made was shining from every pore, the shadows gone from her well-rested eyes.
His smile never faded the whole time he sat down between Sue and Steve, laughing along as Jem recounted tales of their Parisian adventures to his relieved parents. He caught sight of them squeezing each other's hands as they smiled at their laughing kids from the kitchen. Clearly seeing Jem's carefree grin was as much a relief to them as it was to himself.
But despite the immense fun he had in going through their various treasures and photos from the trip with his glowing family, he still found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes. By the time the hands had rolled past eleven and his parents had shuffled off to bed, he felt about ready to leap through the window. Still, out of courtesy he waited for Jem to roll her eyes, lightly punch his shoulder and mutter "Go see him, yer twat," before bounding to the front door with a parting hug and an ear-to-ear grin.
He wished his dead limbs weren't so stiff- honestly, they couldn't carry him fast enough. He sprang up the final steps to the door, knocking excitedly before he even had time to consider the windswept disarray of his hair. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he waited, deciding between a tackle hug or a sarcastic comment as his greeting.
He promptly forgot both options as Simon opened the door, a smile on his face and what appeared to be a ragged ginger cat on his shoulder.
"Evenin', Sunshine," Simon grinned, crossing his arms. "Good trip?"
Kieren glanced between Simon and his feline friend, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Simon followed his gaze and nodded.
"Yeah," he said with a nonchalant shrug that had the cat complaining. "We have a cat now."
Kieren met his gaze for a long moment, silence punctuated by quiet mewls.
"Huh," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and matching Simon's shrug. "Fair enough."
Simon beamed, reaching up to lift the grumbling cat off his shoulder and holding it out. Kieren laughed, reaching out to take the struggling animal into his arms and cuddling it to his chest. After a moment's tussle it settled into the cradle of his arms, tail tickling his belly and soft head against his chest.
"What's its name?" he asked, smiling down at the purring bundle.
"Not decided yet," Simon smiled, petting its head and chuckling as she half-heartedly swatted his hand. "But she reminds me of you."
Kieren rolled his eyes. "'She', huh?" he murmured as the cat stood up, stretched out and licked his cheek. He glanced past Simon into the bungalow, smiling as he saw the familiar painting of a laughing girl with red flowers in her hair. "How 'bout Amy?"
Simon grinned, slinging an arm around Kieren's shoulders.
"Perfect," he said, leaning down to Kieren's smiling lips as Amy the cat purred in his arms.
Well, there you go! Written in one night and completely unbeta'd, so sorry if it sucked!
#SaveInTheFlesh!