Author's Note: This is inspired by a bit of "Bet You Fifteen Bucks You Missed This in ATU" by blackbirdxsinging--which, in turn, was based on something that actually happened in the movie. When Max is counting out rent money for Sadie, you can see him semi-nervously inching away from a cat. It gave me the idea for this story, which took all of four hours (over a period of three days) to write. (Oh, and Sadie's cat really is named Rocky. I looked it up on Wikipedia.)
Rating: T, for basically the same stuff that was in the movie, minus the sex and the nudity.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own ATU. I have a copy of the movie, though. And the deluxe-edition soundtrack. And one of these days I'm gonna get a poster for my room... (I'm not obsessed. I don't know what you're talking about.)
Rocky, You've Met Your Match
…
Max Carrigan had never liked cats. He was never particularly fond of anything that smelled funny and shed fur all over his clothes and had no practical use except to catch mice and leave them on the doorstep. (The only thing he disliked more than cats? Pet rabbits. When he and Lucy were younger, she had somehow convinced their parents to buy her a rabbit, which she named Alice and kept in a cage in her room. It was white and had bright red eyes and, frankly, looked like it had rabies. That never stopped Lucy from taking it out of the cage, letting it bite her, letting it bite Max, etc. Even years after the thing finally died, Max hesitated to spend long amounts of time in his sister's room, for fear that it would randomly appear from behind the door and rip his throat out.)
So he was slightly taken aback to find that his new landlady had a cat. Several, as a matter of fact. He was already counting out two weeks' worth of rent for Sadie when a greyish-white cat entered the room and made a beeline for his leg. Shit…
He spent most of the afternoon playing mind games with that particular cat, not letting it get too close to him. Jude didn't seem to notice—he liked the cat(s). They seemed to like him back. What is it about some people, that cats are drawn to them? he wondered. I guess Jude is the kind of guy who would like cats, maybe pick up a homeless one out of pity or something. Kind of like how he saved my sorry ass from the cops a few days ago. Something like that. Presently he was spacing out at the kitchen table as Sadie poured Jack Daniels for the three of them, suddenly jolted back to reality from the feeling of his current nemesis digging its claws into his leg.
"Shit! Ow!" He kicked the cat from under the table, eliciting a stifled laugh from his Liverpudlian friend.
"Awww… 'e likes you!" Jude teased. The cat trotted over to Sadie, who picked it up and scratched the back of its neck.
"You allergic to cats, Max?" she asked, setting the cat on the kitchen counter.
"What? Oh, no." He had been cursed with a lack of cat allergies. The only reason Lucy had never begged their parents for a cat (or two, or five) when they were young was because their father had been blessed with an allergy to cat hair. Max was incredibly tempted to scratch his face until it at least looked like he had hives the day that they went to the pet store to get the stupid rabbit, but he never did. Deep down, his eleven-year-old self sort of liked Lucy.
"Good, 'cause I've lost count of how many we have." Sadie continued to pet the cat on the counter, who started to look a little too interested in the bottle of alcohol that she (Sadie) still hadn't put away.
"Uh…" Jude gestured towards the cat, who was presently licking the rim of the bottle.
"What?" Sadie turned around. "Rocky, don't drink that!" She swiftly grabbed the alcohol and put it back in the fridge, much to Rocky's disappointment. Now left with nothing to do, he leapt off of the counter and trotted into the "whatever room", presumably in search of his litter box.
"D'you have names for all of 'em?" inquired Jude.
"A few," the singer replied. "Rocky's been with me the longest. Found him right after I moved in here. A few months later, they just started followin' me home." She gestured towards two skinny-looking cats wrestling one another near the doorway. "The white one's Lizzy, and the calico one's Pepper. He's a male cat, I'm pretty sure."
"Don't they need shots and stuff?" Max asked.
Sadie nodded. "Don't worry about it. None of them have rabies or anything…at least I hope not," she said, smiling at the expression of understated panic that swept across Max's thin face.
…
Weeks went by as Sadie's apartment grew slightly more crowded. The cats came and went as they pleased, but Rocky remained—partially out of loyalty to Sadie and partially because he found immense pleasure in bugging Max. (A favourite activity of Rocky's was to jump onto the table while Max was rolling joints and calmly knock things around and spill the weed all over the floor. This became a routine until Max ran out of money for drugs and fell way behind in the rent.)
When Prudence moved in, she immediately fell in love with Rocky (and, subsequently, Sadie). After only a week or so, she had found a temporary home amongst the young artists and random cats scattered about the apartment.
"Max, how can you not love this adorable little pile of fluff?" she cooed, more to the cat than Max, as she lounged on the couch petting said pile of fluff. (That was the day Lucy had moved in—she was busy unpacking and wandering around the apartment gawking at how cool the windows were and how artistic the whole place seemed.)
"I haven't had a joint in weeks," he replied, more to the ceiling than Prudence, "all because the pile of fluff keeps insisting on spilling the weed so he can have some. I swear, the cat's a junkie."
"Awwww," Prudence replied, still enamoured of the cat.
…
After Prudence disappeared, Rocky began to bother Max even more. I could've fed the induction letter to the stupid cat if I really wanted to show the army how much they mean to me, he thought bitterly as Rocky's claws dug into his jeans, making a lovely puncturing noise as they did so. Max looked down at the cat. He probably would've eaten it too.
Luckily, Max soon found his revenge on Rocky (if only somewhat temporarily). The electric fan in his room got bent and broken because various persons under the influence of marijuana had decided one night to take off the blade guard and throw various large-ish objects into it. (Max had a sneaking suspicion that he himself was involved as well, and because it was in his room, he should have to fix it, right?)
So instead of calling someone to fix it (he had no money to pay for it anyway), he found a hammer and decided to bang the fan back into shape. The noise was atrociously loud, causing Rocky to hide in Sadie's closet for a good three to five hours.
And that was the last of Max for quite a while. That evening, Sadie and company attended a party for one Doctor Robert, drank suspicious pink punch, and ended up three thousand miles away from New York City. How's that for running away from your problems?
…
Max sometimes thought about the apartment when he was stationed in Vietnam. Occasionally he got letters, mostly from Jude, about how things were going and how weird and empty the place seemed without him. Shortly after he was shipped out, he got a rather amusing, if not somewhat short, note from the artist.
Max,
It's a bit odd around here without you to lighten the mood and all that. Lucy's still out quite a bit these days, fighting for the cause, y'know? But all in all she's fine (insert some illegible writing here… something about catnip and walking the streets at night? Hmm…)
Max, come home soon. The bloody cat's after me now. I don't think he can smell your presence anymore.
Jude
…
Upon Max's much-earlier-than-expected return home, he found a lot of things changed about life at the apartment. For one, the usual lively population had gone down. Presently it was just Sadie, Jojo, Lucy, and Prudence (who had, incidentally, gotten a job with Sadie's band)—Jude had been deported around the same time that Max got his injury.
For another, it seemed a lot…cleaner. Max was greeted by the smell of clean-ish air and scented candles rather than the potpourri of marijuana, incense, and cat piss.
Not all things had changed, though. Speaking of cats, good old Rocky had decided to pick things up with Max where they had left off…by pawing and scratching at the bandage still wrapped around his head one afternoon as he dozed on the couch.
"Dammit, cat, can't a guy get some sleep around here?" Max complained, along with a few choice profanities, as he attempted to pry said cat off of his face.
"Awwww, Rocky…" Lucy picked up the fat grey blob and stroked it. "Max, he's a cat. He doesn't know any better."
Instead of responding, Max buried his face in the couch cushions. It's one thing to live in an apartment full of cats. It's another thing entirely to live in an apartment full of feline-crazed girls. Where's Jude when I need him?
…
A few weeks later, the apartment started to feel a little more like it used to after Jude moved back in and charcoal drawings littered the walls once again. (Lucy was actually happy again, which brightened the apartment's collective mood a lot.)
One night, the apartment seemed oddly empty—Lucy was at work, Sadie and Jojo were…well, they were out somewhere, and Prudence was asleep. Jude took the opportunity to casually wander into the whatever room and finally have a decent chat with Max (who was lying on the couch again).
"Hey," Jude greeted as he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the couch.
"Mm?"
"How've things been goin'?"
"Very slowly." Max didn't appear to be in the mood to talk much. He was almost half-asleep when Rocky decided to join him. The cat positioned himself about two inches from Max's face and calmly began to claw at the blonde's moustache. "What the--? OW! Dammit!" He tossed the cat across the room.
"What happened?" Jude turned around.
Max clutched his face in pain. "Fucking cat."
"Jesus, Max, what've you done now?" Prudence called tiredly as she trudged into the whatever room.
"It's not me," he replied, wiping his face to make sure he wasn't bleeding. "Goddamn cat hates me."
"Rocky does not hate you," Prudence replied, gathering the upset grey thing from behind the curtains and bringing him near the couch. "Rocky loves you."
"He does not."
"Does too."
"Does not."
"He definitely does. He loves you more than anyone in this apartment, except for maybe Sadie," Prudence said knowledgeably, placing the cat in her lap and beginning to stroke its back.
"How would you know?"
"Because he bothers you so much!" she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, that won't make me like him back," Max said stubbornly.
"Here," Prudence dictated, setting the cat comfortably on Max's stomach. "Pet him."
"No. Get him off."
"Awww…" Jude reached over and scratched Rocky's neck, much to the cat's delight. "But 'e likes you! Come on…"
"Fine." Max looked at Rocky square in the eye. The cat's ears were drawn back, as if half-expecting to be tossed about the room again. After what seemed like several minutes of contemplation, Max timidly reached out a hand and stroked the top of Rocky's head.
In a warm gesture of appreciation and the sign of true friendship, Rocky reared his head around and bit Max's hand.
THE END
A.N.: Well, there you have it. Reviews are appreciated!