Summary: Written for comment-fic at LJ. Theme: Crack. Prompt: "So, how did we suddenly turn into cats?"
Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats
"It's just like Harry Potter!"
After the initial 'ohmigawd, we're cats!' freak-out, Hardison decides that this animal transformation thing is kind of cool. For a dream. Because there's no way this could not be a dream. It's too crazy. It's too…fanficcy. And ain't that a meta thing to think about a dream?
Except if he was in charge of this dream, he wouldn't have turned himself into an orange tabby. He would have thought of something cooler, like a tiger. Or a shark. (But not a mako).
Sophie sighs and adapts. Because that's what she does. So she licks her dainty paw in her most genteel manner and draws it back over her snow-white, fluffy fur, keeping one sly eye on Nate as she does so.
The bobtail watches, fascinated, then shakes himself. He needs a drink. He groans internally when the craving for milk hits him. Milk. He gives up and flops over on his living room floor with a disgruntled moan. He covers his head with his paws. This is not happening. Not happening.
Parker, having been transformed into a slim black cat, is…exploring. This new, different shape and improved agility calls for a re-exploration of Nate's entire apartment. The lack of opposable thumbs sucks, but she can work around that.
Eliot, the large smoky-gray tom, growls and bats at his discarded jeans.
"Uh, Eliot, I know we're cats, but you don't have to hunt down your own jeans," Nate says, after watching the once-hitter for a while.
Eliot looks up, blue material caught between wickedly sharp teeth. He drops his mouthful of fabric. "I'm trying to get my phone."
"Oh," Parker says, and appears next to him. "Here." She ducks head-first into the rumpled-up jeans and emerges with the phone in her mouth.
"Who are you going to call?" Sophie asks, but doesn't abandon her high perch on the couch.
"My brother," Eliot says, and grunts, hitting the phone with his large paws. "Opposable thumbs would be nice, though."
Parker nods and hmms in agreement, then shoots away again.
Meanwhile, Hardison has another panic attack about not being able to play with his gadgets. He needs to do something about that. But he can't, since he doesn't have opposable thumbs! He whimpers, and a pathetic 'meeeeee' sound comes out of his mouth, which he immediately covers with a paw and looks around, as if saying, 'Not me.'
Then he shakes himself with relief as he realizes…"That's what voice dialing is for."
Except it doesn't work.
"I'm sorry. Please repeat your command."
"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot growls menacingly, "Fix it!"
"I can't!" Hardison exclaims hysterically – panicking again, "I have paws! Paws."
"Why are we calling your brother?" Nate asks.
"Because he knows about this kind of thing," Eliot replies, crouching close to the ground and examining the phone with the air of a predator hunting down its prey. The end of his tail twitches menacingly.
"Huh" is all Nate has to say about that. "Interesting."
Parker pops out of nowhere again, dragging a bag of Hardison's gummy frogs between her tiny jaws.
"Parker," Hardison says, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but candy ain't good for cats. I read that on the internet once."
"I'm not going to eat it," the little black cat snorts, dropping her cargo, which also includes a pencil, "I already had a mouse earlier."
Hardison eeps, despite the sudden growling in his orange belly.
Parker opens the bag with a deft twist of her head and paw, then picks up the pencil in her mouth and stabs a frog with it, impaling it on the sharp point.
"Uh," Nate says, slightly disturbed by the scene.
"Hrre," Parker says around the pencil, and passes it over to Eliot, who takes it with a confused look. Parker nods at the phone, at which a look of comprehension dawns on Eliot's face.
He stands over the phone, then, with his head turned sideways so that the frog touches the screen, carefully taps out the number to his brother's cell phone.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Lindsey groans as his phone rings, yet again. What now? He glances at the screen. Eliot? What now, indeed.
"Yeah."
"Meow," says the…cat on the other end of the line, "Meow. Meow-nyrao."
It takes him a few seconds to process the fact that it's his brother, and another few to decipher what he's saying. "…Eliot? That you speaking cat? How the hell did that happen?"
"Mraowrrrrrr. Owwwwwrrrrrr"
There is laughing, lots of it, once Lindsey gets over his shock. "Got turned into a cat? All of you? Who'd you piss off this time? Did you touch something?"
"Grrrrr. Mraaaaaoooowwww."
"Okay, okay," Lindsey says, not taking the threat seriously, just like always, "I'm on the next flight out to Boston…Rum Tum Tugger." He snickers. He can't help it.
"Hissssss."
Lindsey knows exactly what look is on his brother's face, even in feline form. "Hey, you don't put those claws away, I'm gonna have to have you declawed."
"Mraoooowwww!"
"Oh, this is hilarious."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The room is silent for a while after Lindsey hangs up on his spitting tomcat brother.
"Your brother understands cat?"
Eliot grumbles and bats at the phone, just to hit something, "He knows a lot of languages. Weird ones. Because he's an evil lawyer from hell."
Nate's world is turning upside down. "…Okay."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Ooh, what's that smell?" Sophie asks, perking up a little and sniffing the air.
Parker grins and purrs over the sprig of dried green stuff in her paws.
"Ooh, yeah," Hardison says, and walks over to the black cat, who scampers off with the whatever-it-is-that-smells-soooo-good in her mouth.
"Mmm." Even Nate finds himself drawn to the wonderfully-smelling thing.
"Catnip," Eliot snorts from his spot in the corner of the room, then looks around at the surprised expressions. "What? It has a very distinctive smell."
"Why aren't you all over it like we are?" Nate asks after a while, shaking himself again.
Eliot preens. "I've trained my body not to react to a wide array of simulants."
Nate's head tilts. "Even catnip?"
"…Yes."
"Parker, why do you have catnip?" Sophie asks, And where can I get some?
"Prrrrr," purrs Parker. Because she's Parker, that's why.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sophie wants the catnip. She does. A lot. Parker doesn't want to give it up.
The result: Three hours later, an Eliot look-alike with short hair, a suit, and an attaché case walks into the room and stares wide-eyed at the destruction in front of him.
"The hell happened in here?"
Eliot licks a paw nonchalantly. "Catfight."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
References:
Rum Tum Tugger, story title: From T.S. Eliot's poem collection of the same name (I was going to have a line about singing cats, but I couldn't fit it in).
Gummy frog: In the episode with the magic show, Hardison used a gummy frog on a fingerprint screen thingy because they have the same density (is that what he said?) as a human finger.
Thank you to Harm Marie for pointing out that Nate probably wouldn't be a calico, since those are mostly female.
Anon review replies:
JustLurking: Thanks for reading/reviewing my stories! You're worried about me (review for "Misunderstanding")? Aw, thanks. The chocolate was good. ;D
Bob: (Also for "Misunderstanding") I really just want to reply because "Bob"?! As in a guy? Cool, haven't had a male reviewer in a while in this predominantly female fic fandom (lots of guys watch the show, but the ficcers and readers tend to be female, from what I've seen). Interesting. Well, anyway, thanks!