Arthur had been drunk. He must have been. There was no other explanation for this unprecedented...situation.
To wake up, head pounding like the bells of St Paul's were ringing inside his skull, roll over and find this, this demon staring back at him, unabashed, big blue eyes despicably amused. Compeyson really had pushed him too far.
The previous night Arthur had been thrown out of The Three Cripples after a particularly animated argument- no, heated disagreement - between himself and another patron. The instigator? He had no idea. He wasn't even sure what it had been about. All he remembered was a blazing fury singing in his veins, Compeyson's lazy, arrogant smile burning behind his eyes, the whisper of a touch that set his skin on fire.
Looking back it had been inevitable.
The evening's incident had resulted in Arthur slumped in a back alley at some godforsaken hour in the morning; his fingers burning with the cold, snow seeping into his very pores. On reflection it would seem the sorry sight of the once proud Havisham had proved so pitiful that not even petty thieves or pickpockets had bothered him.
He remembered it being dark. A shifting sort of darkness that seemed to almost seethe and squirm around him, sapping all strength from his muscles. It had felt good to let reality sift around him, to drift into the arms of nothingness. Easy. Like letting out a breath under water.
And then, he was there. He remembered that. Arthur could remember thinking he seemed incredibly still, an anchor amidst the writhing seas of black all around them. Just staring, watching from across the alley for what had seemed an eternity. They were the same eyes Arthur had felt on him for the last few weeks, keenly tracking his every movement.
He had no idea what had possessed him. Normally Arthur would consider the presence of one of his kind abhorrent, disgusting, vile. Normally he would have picked himself up, stumbled back to his room and embraced the claws of sleep which would eventually come to claim him. Normally...but this had not been normal. Of late, nothing had been normal.
So what if he was a monster? Something about the way he'd approached him, breaking the stillness which had seemed to last lifetimes, the way he'd sat down beside him and just breathed - it had been been strangely comforting. Arthur felt there was something almost companionable about it. And then, he had fit so easily into his arms, so naturally, as if born for it: to push him away would have been wrong. And then he'd heard that deep, rumbling noise at the back his companion's throat - any lingering doubts had instantly evaporated. That had been the moment he decided.
Devil or no, he was his.
At the time it had seemed a fantastic idea. One of the best he'd had in weeks. But now, lying face to face with a monster, forced to come to terms with a drunken decision; the reality of it was almost enough to make Arthur vow to never let a drop of drink touch his lips again. Really, it had been stupid and reckless and he didn't even understand it at all because-
Arthur Havisham didn't even like cats.
"Meow?"
Arthur groaned, a long, drawn out sound which he thought didn't nearly come to close to conveying the unfathomable frustration and regret he felt. Why the hell had he thought bringing home a stray cat would be a good idea? It had even spent the bloody night sleeping next to him. On his bed! He might as well have adopted the creature.
The animal made another inquisitive whine and Arthur felt a surprisingly soft paw start to tug at his hair. He barely suppressed another groan of regret as a series of questions flashed through his mind.
Was it probably carrying lice or something equally unpleasant? Yes.
Would he, a month ago, have thrown the disgusting creature out of the window without a second thought? Yes.
Was his dignity so irretrievably ruined and his energy so utterly depleted that letting a street cat tussle his hair didn't really bother him anymore?
Unfortunately, yes.
Arthur sighed and sluggishly sat up, earning him a startled yelp from the animal. Looking down, he saw the cat staring back up at him with big eyes and realised with horror - it wasn't a cat. It was a kitten.
He was, seen without the haze of alcohol, quite a mangy looking thing. The fur, what should have been a beautiful bright ginger yet dulled a dingy brown, was scraggly and hanging down in drips from its underbelly. Arthur also noticed just how tiny the thing was. How on earth the creature had survived on the streets of London, without any apparent mother, was anyone's guess; there were plenty of people who would quickly snap up any source of meat.
"You must be quite the clever feline," he murmured, absentmindedly rubbing the creature under the chin. "Or maybe you're just damn lucky."
Arthur almost jumped out of his skin when the kitten start purring. Eyes wide, he watched as the animal's eyes closed in pleasure, neck stretching back, whole body radiating pleasure.
Arthur blinked. He blinked again.
A small trickle of warmth started to fill his chest - Arthur had almost forgotten what it was like to bring anyone other than himself happiness. The reminder that physical touches were not always painfully censored or carefully calculated to cause the most damage. The feeling of just bringing someone else something other than grief.
It was like the air became a little easier to breathe.
"Amelia..."
A memory which Arthur had thought long forgotten resurfaced with startling clarity. Amelia had been going through an animal phase after receiving Jip as a Christmas present, becoming determined, even fixated on naming every animal she could find in a book titled Wild Beasts of the African Plains, as if they were her pets. Arthur had found it incredibly annoying and such a girly thing to do. Why did she have to pester him all day long with the never ending list of creatures?
"But I have it all planned out! When you own the brewery I can open the Havisham menagerie. Won't that be exciting Arthur?"
After hours of a truly laborious process Arthur had finally exclaimed - Why can't you just name something normal Amelia, just once?
Amelia had calmly replied, "'Normal' animals are so obvious though. And boring. Dogs are only good for silly names, something that encapsulates their boundless energy - hence the name Jip. As for cats, well, for such creatures of high standing and dignity you have no choice but to name after heroes of great valour and heroism. Say, one of the Great Ancients...like Hector, Jason, Achilles. See? Easy."
And with that she had continued on, barely missing a beat, a seemingly un-oppressable vivaciousness driving her forward. Arthur had huffed in annoyance, forlorn over his long suffering situation yet secretly harboring a great envy of that boundless life his sister had radiated. Or at least, before Father. And the will. And-
Arthur shook his head, willing his memories to stop. He looked down at the animal, head cocked slightly to the side.. Strange how something so small could trigger such a personal memory. "Which of the Greats are you then?" he mused aloud.
The cat rubbed against Arthur's hand, the rumbling in his throat still purring out, full and content.
"I really shouldn't be naming you," he murmured, absentmindedly stroking the full length of its back, "that would imply I intend to keep you. Which I don't. I can't."
The cat opened one eye to stare at him, as if to say 'you don't sound very convincing''. Arthur would have to agree.
Of course, he had seen the animal first time had been sitting in that back alley, nursing his swollen lip as he spat blood out onto the white snow. Christmas Eve. The day everything had gone wrong. And he had been there. A fleeting shadow, nervously watching Arthur. He had shooed him away, yet had often felt eyes on him whenever he left the Three Cripples, a familiar weight on his back. At the time Arthur had always ignored it, yet now, looking back the notion of a watchful protector seemed quite comforting.
Still, there was nothing for it. However sweet or, God forbid, cute the creature was this could not be a long term situation. Still, the idea of having him about the room, someone to sit with when Compeyson was in one of his fouler moods, something to remind him of reality when drink and shame and self loathing seemed to drag him under - it was tempting. It was very tempting.
Arthur was jolted from his reverie by the abrupt clang of the door hitting the wall. Instinctively, he snatched his hand away from the creature, looking up to see-
Of course. He was sure he would know that man, his gait, his voice, his breathing, anywhere. It was hard to resist the temptation to stand up, like a soldier reacting to the presence of a senior officer. The thought made his skin crawl.
"Things are proceeding well with Amelia. It won't be long now," Compeyson said, all without sparing a passing glance at Arthur, striding across the room to scoop up some discarded notes, "Time is of the essence, of course. Still, I can tell she adores me. I'm expecting an invitation to-"
Arthur froze when he heard it too. He glanced down to see the little creature, crouching on the bed, head lowered with its eyes locked on Compeyson. Growling.
Arthur held his breath. As if time had slowed he watched as Compeyson straightened, turned, eyes settling on the offending new arrival.
"Arthur…"
Something about the way he said his name sent a shameful heat prickling up the back of his neck. It reminded him of his father's tone whenever he had been disappointed or uncomprehending at his son's actions. And, just like it had been with his father, the embarrassment squirmed uncomfortably in his stomach, almost to the point of nausea.
"Why, in the name of all that is holy, is there a cat on your bed?"
The creature hissed, every muscle in its body clenched as if ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Arthur had no idea what was making the animal so aggressive towards the man; he had seemed quite gentle before.
"He's only a kitten," Arthur said, the words falling out far more defensively than he would have liked yet for some reason he felt as if Compeyson's deeply disapproving and disdainful expression was directed at him, not the animal. And he couldn't stand that.
Compeyson's demeanour visibly darkened. "I'm telling you Arthur, get this...thing out of here. Immediately."
Arthur frowned, his signature pout settling unknowingly on his face. Compeyson's reaction really did seem over-dramatic; locking eyes with a creature which barely came up to his ankle and staring it down as if it had just insulted his mother. He also noticed, with a thrill of sparked curiosity, that Compeyson was frozen, rigid in place and looking the most uncomfortable Arthur had ever seen him.
What the hell was the matter?
"Compeyson," Arthur said disbelievingly, "if I didn't know better I would say you're afraid of a kitten. There's no need to react like that."
Compeyson turned a particularly vicious glare on him, venom spitting from his mouth. "Well, it's a good thing that you do know better then."
Arthur blinked in surprise, genuine confusion pulling his brows into a frown. "Then whatever is the problem?"
"It's a stray. It will have fleas, or lice. Or worse. I'm not about to catch some deadly disease at the most crucial moment of your sister's seduction."
Arthur snorted, unable to completely resist rolling his eyes. "Well, if you were so worried about infection-spreading rodents then I'm afraid you shouldn't have booked these lodgings. They're sure to be festering with something: I've heard rumours of mice.
Compeyson made a noise which- no, surely… Was he actually growling at the cat?
Arthur balked. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you Compeyson?"
"If you must know," Compeyson said, through gritted teeth looking like the words were causing him physical pain, "my constitution does not respond well to feline hair."
A moment of silence passed as Arthur, in complete bewilderment, watched man and beast engage in a staring match, the only noise the low warning undertones of the creature beside him. Then, for what felt like the first time in years, Arthur started laughing. It was a deep laughter which all the will-power in the world could not have repressed, and with every throaty exhale of air he felt something tight and constricted in his chest loosen, inch by inch. God, it felt good to laugh again.
Compeyson looked like he was about to murder something, and at that moment would not particularly care who or what that was.
"Damn it Arthur, this isn't funny."
Arthur was trying to stop laughing. Honestly, he was. But the thought that Compeyson - this man whom he had thought a monster, who ever since he had met had felt like a force of nature, who had paralysed him with both fear and want in equal measure - that Compeyson's great weakness was a kitten.
He felt his loss of composure seemed understandable.
"I'm...I'm sor-" His apology was cut off promptly by another sudden fit of giggles, as if the noises were being drawn out of him like poison from a wound. A layer of hysteria lay underneath the outburst. "It's just...out of- of everything, Compeyson...I never- never imagined your Achilles heel...to come in the form of cats."
The creature hissed a little, and Arthur was sure he heard a similar response from Compeyson. Arthur was sure he felt moisture beginning to pool at the corners of his eyes and he sent up a grateful prayer to whoever was listening for giving him this moment of reprieve.
"I do not appreciate being laughed at."
Instantly, Arthur felt his stomach twist, a familiar shard of ice lodging itself once more in his chest. Yes, this situation was hilariously funny in the most ludicrous way but that did not change the reality of their relationship. The unspoken warning beneath those words was real. He must not forget that.
Arthur sighed, mirth quickly subsiding. However he was not completely able to wipe a slightly satisfied smirk from his mouth.
"He really is quite friendly. If you only get to know him." As if to prove his point the animal rubbed his head against Arthur's side, earning him a scratch behind the ears. Arthur gave Compeyson a pointed look, as if to say 'There. See?'
Compeyson folded his arms, every line of his body communicating utter disgust at the suggestion. He noticed that, since the man had noticed the animal's presence he had not moved towards him. Interesting.
"Arthur I'm being serious. You will take that thing out this very moment and-"
"No."
Arthur looked only slightly less shocked at his own words than Compeyson did.
"I think you'll find-"
"No." Arthur fought past the frantic beating of his heart, driven forward by a sudden surge of brave madness, or, perhaps, a temporary insanity. "No, Compeyson. This is where I draw the line. You can dictate to me about my sister, about my daily activities, even about who I bloody look at in the street - I don't care. But this cat, he's mine. If I stay, he stays. If you want him gone you'll have to take him yourself."
Compeyson and Arthur held that stare for a long time, even the cat falling silent as if sensing the gravity, the intensity of that moment. With every second Arthur felt the momentary bravery evaporate. Idiot, idiot. He was very tempted to take it back, to buckle under the weight of the man's gaze.
Yet, that Havisham stubbornness, that so easily inflamed pride, kept his mouth clamped shut. His eyes stayed locked with the other pair and he forced himself to push past the blossoming heat in his cheeks and frenzied heartbeat.
"Fine."
Arthur watched with wide eyes as Compeyson retrieved his gloves, only a few minutes ago discarded. His head felt too light, like his ears had suddenly full of water. Had Compeyson really just said that? He couldn't. Surely.
Compeyson hovered by the door, looking imperiously down at the pair of them. He sniffed. "I'll give your regards to Amelia, shall I?"
The door shut, banging hard against the wooden door frame. He sucked in a sharp breath, air forcing its way painfully down his chest. He would pay for that. He knew all too well that Compeyson could devise any number of painful tortures for that single moment of madness fueled rebellion, that defiant lunacy.
He knows. You absolute idiot, he knows.
Arthur felt something wet on his hand. Looking down, he saw him, barbed tongue gently licking his cold fingers.
It was stupid really, to find comfort in a creature who could not even begin to comprehend human emotions. Yet, despite the very real threat of Compeyson's punishment looming over his head Arthur found a small smile pulling at his mouth. No matter what happened, he had found something new about that man, a secret of his own, probably something he had not accounted for in his master plan. Arthur had surprised him with perhaps his only Achilles heel. It was a small victory, but one he had desperately needed.
Arthur sighed and lay back, resting his head on the pillow. The kitten followed his movements carefully, and within moments, Arthur had a warm ball of breathing fur curled up on his chest, purring lightly.
"You and me, we're survivors aren't we?" he whispered.
The cat mewed back at him, a sound which sounded very much like an affirmative. Arthur's smile grew.
No, things really weren't so hopeless after all.