Moonbeams: Swing on a Star 1/2
Author: Tari_roo
Rating: PG
Fandom: SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. But if I did… I'd own Cat!John
Summary: AU (Crack) Cat!John part 2
Warning: None.
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McKay slammed his hand down on his alarm knocking the annoying thing off the bedside table. Peering out of his covers, Rodney glared at the darkness outside and growled under his breath about idiotic planets with ridiculous customs and a Team Leader unwilling to demand that they just let Rodney access their little 'temple'.
But no, Rodney McKay had to present himself at dawn (their time) for a cleansing ritual before his infidel feet would be allowed inside the temple. "I should have slept at the base," McKay muttered as he staggered towards the bathroom.
Ablutions complete, McKay fumbled for the wall and made his way towards the kitchen and the coffee machine. In the gloom of the pre-dawn light, Rodney saw the flicker of movement and smiled to himself. MXblahblahblah's dawn might be at 10h00 hours MST but Hammond wanted SG6 in for a pre-mission briefing – an early oh-dark-thirty briefing. Apparently the incident on PRwearesonotgoingthere was still fresh in the General's mind. Flicking on the coffee machine, McKay groaned and leant his head against the cupboard. No doubt he was going to be read the riot act, again, about ignoring Major Douche's orders. Carson would be looking at him with that 'its your own fault Rodney' smirk. Corporal Whosit would be stony faced and stoic.
Shit.
Soft padded feet landing on the counter drew Rodney's attention and the smile returned. "Hey."
Cat ignored him. As usual.
The coffee machine dinged. Happy mocha smells filled the air. Rodney purred along with Cat. His mug was right where he left it. Next to Cat's saucer. This was one battle Cat had won – with completeness. Rodney was going to win the food war, though. Oh yes.
Hot, nectar of the Gods in his mug, McKay dumped in a handful of sugar and watched Cat slink closer. Rodney took a sip of the still piping hot coffee, and murmured, "The ASPCA will revoke my license for giving you coffee."
Cat stared back impassively, uncaring of his non-existent license woes. Slowly, Rodney poured a thin layer of coffee into the saucer. No milk. No sugar. He put it down near Cat, who flicked an ear at him before starting to lap up the liquid. "Puerto Rican blend. Freshly pressed."
Cat shrugged, green eyes darting up at him. "Snob."
Rodney left his cat to its coffee and went to pull his Offworld bag together. Staying at the base probably would have been better but he'd forgotten about Cat. Four months and he still came home on some days and was surprised to be tackled by an irate black feline was pissed about the lack of food in the apartment. But opportunity was now knocking. And Rodney had remembered in time. Sam owed him a favour. Sam liked Cat. Sam was grounded with a broken arm.
McKay was still debating between the orange fleece (MXblah was cold) and the thermal underwear when Sam rang his doorbell.
Throwing open the door, Rodney beamed. "McKay." Sam looked picture perfect, as always. Brilliant and hot. They were two peas in a pod. It was a travesty that they weren't making beautiful, genius children together.
"Carter," Rodney replied and waved her in.
With her usual critical eye, Sam stepped past him, keeping a good distance between them. "I could have come by last night, Rodney."
Ah! Implied criticism of his organizational skills. Resentment over the favour – still. Rodney resisted his automatic response – vitriolic and sharp – he wanted to smooth things over with her afterall and said instead, "Sorry. Zelenka and I worked late on the … nevermind. We worked late. Thanks for coming by so early."
She waved off his apology, face and eyes already softening as Cat slinked over, back arched coyly. "Yeah, I figured. Hey, you. C'me here."
Rodney sighed softly, longing to be addressed in the same soft tones and feeling immensely jealous of Cat. The shameless flirt was twisting and purring around Sam, who happily picked him up and cuddled him. "I am constantly amazed you haven't killed him with neglect yet, Rodney," Sam teased.
"Ha! He's more than capable of looking after himself. The world ends, that cat and the cockroaches will be picking over the ruins. You watch." McKay glanced at his watch and motioned for Sam to follow him, cat in arm.
"Ok, right. Why you are here." Rodney paused and glared at Cat, who radiated contented bliss as Sam stroked him into oblivion. "Don't be deceived by the 'façade'," McKay snapped, waving at the black pool of fur. "This one has an iron will and refuses to eat real cat food."
Rodney threw open one of the cupboards, the one over the sink. It was full of cat food. Tins. Packets. Pellets. Wet. Dry. Premium brand. Cheap junk. "I have tried everything. I do mean everything. And he point blank refuses to touch – anything!" Some of his frustration must have leaked out into his voice, because Sam looked skeptical but understanding. Cat just looked smug.
"Instead, he eats what I eat. And fights me for it. I cook a meal, he practically stalks me until I either cave or he knocks my plate onto the floor and gets away with something," Rodney glared at Cat, who feigned innocence, purring like a train.
"Rodney," Sam chided, obviously (naturally) siding with the con artist in her arms.
"I'm serious, Sam." McKay rolled up his sleeves and showed her his war wounds. Long, deep scratches, some healed, others puckering with scabs. "It's like living with a tiger, who is trying to figure out how to eat you in small doses."
Carter still looked dubious but Rodney pressed on. "So, the plan. I am on MX whatsit for two weeks."
"MX67-89," Sam corrected and McKay waved it off. "Whatever. Two weeks. Two weeks of no human food. All I need you to do is come by once a day, open a new tin of whichever cat food strikes your fancy. And leave." Rodney pointed a finger at the door to stress his point. "Do not give in to his damn cuteness, yowling, pleading and inevitable ambush attacks. Do not bring food with you. Open can. Check the water. Leave!"
Sam had that 'McKay is crazy' look. Cat was glaring at him and probably plotting his demise, death and execution. "Rodney. Really? You can't be serious."
Waving his hands to emphasis the point, McKay shook his head and nodded at the same time. "I am deadly serious. I will not lose this battle, Sam. Human will trumps Cat! Two weeks of catfood, with no other option and he'll tow the line. I promise."
"Or starve," Sam cooed, pressing Cat's face towards her. Cunning devil purred like Sam was heaven on Earth.
McKay put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips, "Sam. You owe me. I will not live my life dictated to by an animal. He will eat catfood like every other normal cat in the world. I need you to do this."
Sam sighed, giving in but she added one last 'thought' on the matter. "I may owe you Rodney, but you're essentially leaving me with the cat, so to speak. You can't say no to it, so now you're making me."
For this, Rodney had a ready prepared response, "Hell, Sam. You've being saying no to me for years, I figured you're the expert, so go with the … ow!" McKay stepped out of reach, rubbing his aching arm. Sam glowered at him, Cat echoing a pleased glare.
"Fine. I'll do it. But this makes us more than even, McKay."
Rodney nodded. And shot Cat a triumphant smirk.
Game. On.
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Continued in Part 2 (tomorrow)