TITLE Cats in the Cradle
AUTHOR McKay
E-MAIL BaybeeJuneaol.com, BaybeeJune on AIM
RATING PG-13 for language and bathroom humor, heck, let's call it R just to be safe.
SPOILERS None
PAIRING T/W is vaguely mentioned, a little bit of T/B for the fun of it, Spike/Clem implied
SUMMARY Clem's in need of a place to crash-along with some fuzzy friends.
DISCLAIMER I don't own Tara, Buffy, Dawn, Clem, Spike, Willow, Sunnydale, CA, or anything worth suing for. Joss Whedon, Marti Noxious, et al, do. I do own the cats, a ruthlessly overactive imagination, a juvenile sense of humor and old sneakers.
ARCHIVING/DISTRIBUTION Want it, take it, have it, just tell me where you wanna put it.
FEEDBACK Honestly, I love it, but in the case of this story, it's not meant to be great, it's not meant to be an accurate representation of these characters (in fact it's meant to make fun of them, because I really don't like them right now). So you really don't need to point out what a ridiculous parody it is. It's SUPPOSED to be. That's all I'm saying. However, opinions are definitely welcome. Flames will be posted all around the Internet with your name attached so that people can laugh at you. Then I will send out my chocobo to hunt you down maim you. Kiwano likes the feel of human flesh between his talons, don't you, boy? And we both despise flamers.
AUTHOR'S NOTES I've always wondered what would send St. Tara to the breaking point...and I do so love Clem...anyway, like I said, it's a parody. Thanks to Miss Ellie for being my sounding board and a terrible influence ;) I think I had a reason for making Buffy a raging homophobe, but this fic got lost for a year, and by the time I found it again, I'd completely forgotten. But it's still making me laugh, so what the hell, eh? Probably something to do with how self-obsessed Buffy was being when I wrote this fic...and just because she was ticking me off and, again, this made me laugh. This is supposed to be exaggerated and somewhat ridiculous.
Only in Sunnydale.
Only in Sunnydale would you be awakened at four am on a weeknight by pounding at the door, have the foresight to grab a wooden stake before answering the door, and finding a demon that was the probable lovechild of Mr. Clean and a Shar-Pei. A demon who was holding a large cardboard box. A large cardboard box that was making suspicious whimpering noises.
"Clem?" Tara rubbed her eyes.
"Uh, hey, Tara, can I crash on the couch tonight?"
"It's four in the morning...what...come in..." Tara ushered the loosely-complected demon inside. "Clem, why are you here? Did something happen at the crypt? Is Spike okay?"
Clem looked at Tara morosely. "I can't sleep there. Spike and I aren't speaking."
"Did you two have a fight?"
Clem's ears drooped dejectedly. "Spike ate Bourbon."
Tara blinked. "Spike got drunk? That's why?"
"No, he ate Bourbon. My cat." Tears filled the demon's limpid brown eyes.
"Ohh. I'm so-"
"And he said he thought it was his kitten, but Bourbon was the only black one in all of our winnings tonight. That's why I called him Bourbon. He was the darkest of the dark kitties."
Tara did her best to look sympathetic, but she was tired, confused, and mightily tempted to burst into laughter. Sure, she felt bad about the cat, but...
"Tara? Who was at the door?" Dawn wandered downstairs. "Oh...hi, Clem."
Clem nodded to Dawn, continuing his rant. "And this has happened before...last week, I came home, and got this lovely surprise," He continued sarcastically. "I come home to discover that Spike ate Dick!"
"Tara..?" Dawn looked apprehensively towards the stairs.
"Oh dear, no...no, he didn't, what I meant was, he ate my pussy, I mean, my cat, Dick...Emily Dickinson."
"You named your cat Emily Dickinson?"
"It was a theme...see, I name the kittens in themes, and it was famous dead poets, and Emily Dickinson turned out to be a boy, so...tonight's babies were all named for good liquor." A faint meow came from the box resting on Clem's lap.
"Er, that wouldn't be...the rest of the pot, would it?"
Clem bent over the box protectively. "I couldn't leave them for Spike to finish off like so many McNuggets!"
Dawn perked up. "Kittens! Can I see them?"
Tara dropped her head into her hands. "In the kitchen. Where there's no carpet. Go put down newspaper-old newspaper, not stuff that we haven't read yet. Keep the doors closed. We don't need an infestation of kittens. And put a knot in the phone cord so nobody hangs themselves."
Dawn trotted off and Clem looked at the floor, slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry to spring these little guys on you, really, but I couldn't leave them behind...they're my pets. I need to find them homes. It's what I do...it's my thing." Tara smiled despite herself. "It's fine, Clem. I like cats...I had a cat. It's just a surprise...now c'mon, let's go let these little fuzzballs stretch their legs."
Dawn was waiting impatiently when they got there and she helped them lower the carton and lift the flaps back. Five bundles of fluff and whiskers scrambled out, shaking their heads and stretching. Clem pointed, "That's Kahlua, the little calico is Merlot, the gray-and-white one is Vodka, that's Tequila chasing his tail, and the sort of orangey-tan little fella with creamy paws-he's my favorite-is Schnapps."
Dawn lay on her stomach and tickled Vodka's charcoal-gray ears. The kitten responded by tapping her cheek with his tiny paw. "You are so cute! Yes you are! You are!" Tara rolled her eyes with a tolerant smile before sitting down beside her, picking up Tequila and plopping him on her shoulder. "You are pretty sweet, huh?" The kitten licked her nose in reply. "Oh, well, hello!"
Clem smiled knowingly. "Watch out for that one. He's a flirt." He picked up Schnapps and let the kitten bat at his ears. "Ow, hey, claws in! Claws in!" He gently dumped the animal on the floor. Schnapps promptly skittered off to pounce on Merlot. His sister arched her back and smacked him on the nose with her paw in a fair approximation of a bitchslap.
Dawn laughed out loud. Tara snuggled Tequila under her chin. She yelped in surprise when ten tiny claws dug into her skin as the kitchen door banged open.
"Hey guys, you're still awa-Dawn? Tara? Why are there kittens in my kitchen?" Buffy yawned, looking perplexed, worn out and more than a little annoyed. "Oh...hi, Clem. Good hand?"
"Yeah...aces and queens."
"Mmm." Buffy smiled politely. "But nobody has explained why there are kittens in my kitchen. Dawn?"
"Uh...Tara? Help?"
Buffy groaned. "No, wait, I don't even want to know, just...pack them up and get them out! Take them home...or wherever you take your kittens."
Clem looked sheepish. "I, er, can't...see, Spike and I aren't speaking right now. The kitties and I are sort of temporarily homeless."
"And so you decided my kitchen was a good place to crash?"
"Buffy, wait..." Tara pried Schnapps and Kahlua from the legs of her lounge pants and stood, moving carefully towards Buffy. "I told him he could crash on the couch...I didn't know he had cats at the time, but...he doesn't have anywhere else to go."
"Yeah, I'm sorry to impose, but...well, Sophie's allergic to cats and most of my other friends will make Snackwells of the little guys..."
"And we couldn't let him take them to be eaten!" Dawn chimed in, carefully standing up next to Tara, a groggy Vodka in her arms. "Look how cute they are, Buffy! They're just little...it's cruel to feed them to vampires! They don't even have a fighting chance. They're too tiny!"
"Dawn..." Buffy rubbed her forehead. "I'm not a cat person, especially not after a night of vampire, er, slaying. I appreciate the sentiment, but we're not zoned for cats. We have no food for them, no litter box-"
"Oh, I brought kibble," Clem piped up cheerfully. "Kitten chow. Special formula for their little tummies."
"And we put down paper in case they gotta do their business." Dawn held out the gray kitten to her sister. "Come on, Buffy, it's just one night..."
"Well..." Buffy hedged. "They are sorta cute." She took Vodka and held him against her chest. "Aw, he's purring! Hi, little-ew!" She hurriedly handed the kitten back to Dawn and stared down at her shirt in dismay. "Oh, you're so lucky this wasn't new, hairball."
"He didn't mean it! He's just a baby, Buffy. Just a teeny, helpless baby."
"Yeah, Buffy..." Tara turned on the Slayer with her best puppy eyes. "They just need a place to bunk for the night. Just a few hours. They're so little, how much trouble can they be?"
Buffy began to pull her shirt over her head, ignoring the matters of the minor, the male demon and the lesbian in the room with her. "Fine, fine, whatever, one night. But we are not keeping them. Not one of them, not all of them, none of them, do you understand me?"
"Yes, Buffy," They chorused, each smiling beatifically at her, a kitten in their arms. Buffy shook her head and headed upstairs to shower.
AUTHOR McKay
E-MAIL BaybeeJuneaol.com, BaybeeJune on AIM
RATING PG-13 for language and bathroom humor, heck, let's call it R just to be safe.
SPOILERS None
PAIRING T/W is vaguely mentioned, a little bit of T/B for the fun of it, Spike/Clem implied
SUMMARY Clem's in need of a place to crash-along with some fuzzy friends.
DISCLAIMER I don't own Tara, Buffy, Dawn, Clem, Spike, Willow, Sunnydale, CA, or anything worth suing for. Joss Whedon, Marti Noxious, et al, do. I do own the cats, a ruthlessly overactive imagination, a juvenile sense of humor and old sneakers.
ARCHIVING/DISTRIBUTION Want it, take it, have it, just tell me where you wanna put it.
FEEDBACK Honestly, I love it, but in the case of this story, it's not meant to be great, it's not meant to be an accurate representation of these characters (in fact it's meant to make fun of them, because I really don't like them right now). So you really don't need to point out what a ridiculous parody it is. It's SUPPOSED to be. That's all I'm saying. However, opinions are definitely welcome. Flames will be posted all around the Internet with your name attached so that people can laugh at you. Then I will send out my chocobo to hunt you down maim you. Kiwano likes the feel of human flesh between his talons, don't you, boy? And we both despise flamers.
AUTHOR'S NOTES I've always wondered what would send St. Tara to the breaking point...and I do so love Clem...anyway, like I said, it's a parody. Thanks to Miss Ellie for being my sounding board and a terrible influence ;) I think I had a reason for making Buffy a raging homophobe, but this fic got lost for a year, and by the time I found it again, I'd completely forgotten. But it's still making me laugh, so what the hell, eh? Probably something to do with how self-obsessed Buffy was being when I wrote this fic...and just because she was ticking me off and, again, this made me laugh. This is supposed to be exaggerated and somewhat ridiculous.
Only in Sunnydale.
Only in Sunnydale would you be awakened at four am on a weeknight by pounding at the door, have the foresight to grab a wooden stake before answering the door, and finding a demon that was the probable lovechild of Mr. Clean and a Shar-Pei. A demon who was holding a large cardboard box. A large cardboard box that was making suspicious whimpering noises.
"Clem?" Tara rubbed her eyes.
"Uh, hey, Tara, can I crash on the couch tonight?"
"It's four in the morning...what...come in..." Tara ushered the loosely-complected demon inside. "Clem, why are you here? Did something happen at the crypt? Is Spike okay?"
Clem looked at Tara morosely. "I can't sleep there. Spike and I aren't speaking."
"Did you two have a fight?"
Clem's ears drooped dejectedly. "Spike ate Bourbon."
Tara blinked. "Spike got drunk? That's why?"
"No, he ate Bourbon. My cat." Tears filled the demon's limpid brown eyes.
"Ohh. I'm so-"
"And he said he thought it was his kitten, but Bourbon was the only black one in all of our winnings tonight. That's why I called him Bourbon. He was the darkest of the dark kitties."
Tara did her best to look sympathetic, but she was tired, confused, and mightily tempted to burst into laughter. Sure, she felt bad about the cat, but...
"Tara? Who was at the door?" Dawn wandered downstairs. "Oh...hi, Clem."
Clem nodded to Dawn, continuing his rant. "And this has happened before...last week, I came home, and got this lovely surprise," He continued sarcastically. "I come home to discover that Spike ate Dick!"
"Tara..?" Dawn looked apprehensively towards the stairs.
"Oh dear, no...no, he didn't, what I meant was, he ate my pussy, I mean, my cat, Dick...Emily Dickinson."
"You named your cat Emily Dickinson?"
"It was a theme...see, I name the kittens in themes, and it was famous dead poets, and Emily Dickinson turned out to be a boy, so...tonight's babies were all named for good liquor." A faint meow came from the box resting on Clem's lap.
"Er, that wouldn't be...the rest of the pot, would it?"
Clem bent over the box protectively. "I couldn't leave them for Spike to finish off like so many McNuggets!"
Dawn perked up. "Kittens! Can I see them?"
Tara dropped her head into her hands. "In the kitchen. Where there's no carpet. Go put down newspaper-old newspaper, not stuff that we haven't read yet. Keep the doors closed. We don't need an infestation of kittens. And put a knot in the phone cord so nobody hangs themselves."
Dawn trotted off and Clem looked at the floor, slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry to spring these little guys on you, really, but I couldn't leave them behind...they're my pets. I need to find them homes. It's what I do...it's my thing." Tara smiled despite herself. "It's fine, Clem. I like cats...I had a cat. It's just a surprise...now c'mon, let's go let these little fuzzballs stretch their legs."
Dawn was waiting impatiently when they got there and she helped them lower the carton and lift the flaps back. Five bundles of fluff and whiskers scrambled out, shaking their heads and stretching. Clem pointed, "That's Kahlua, the little calico is Merlot, the gray-and-white one is Vodka, that's Tequila chasing his tail, and the sort of orangey-tan little fella with creamy paws-he's my favorite-is Schnapps."
Dawn lay on her stomach and tickled Vodka's charcoal-gray ears. The kitten responded by tapping her cheek with his tiny paw. "You are so cute! Yes you are! You are!" Tara rolled her eyes with a tolerant smile before sitting down beside her, picking up Tequila and plopping him on her shoulder. "You are pretty sweet, huh?" The kitten licked her nose in reply. "Oh, well, hello!"
Clem smiled knowingly. "Watch out for that one. He's a flirt." He picked up Schnapps and let the kitten bat at his ears. "Ow, hey, claws in! Claws in!" He gently dumped the animal on the floor. Schnapps promptly skittered off to pounce on Merlot. His sister arched her back and smacked him on the nose with her paw in a fair approximation of a bitchslap.
Dawn laughed out loud. Tara snuggled Tequila under her chin. She yelped in surprise when ten tiny claws dug into her skin as the kitchen door banged open.
"Hey guys, you're still awa-Dawn? Tara? Why are there kittens in my kitchen?" Buffy yawned, looking perplexed, worn out and more than a little annoyed. "Oh...hi, Clem. Good hand?"
"Yeah...aces and queens."
"Mmm." Buffy smiled politely. "But nobody has explained why there are kittens in my kitchen. Dawn?"
"Uh...Tara? Help?"
Buffy groaned. "No, wait, I don't even want to know, just...pack them up and get them out! Take them home...or wherever you take your kittens."
Clem looked sheepish. "I, er, can't...see, Spike and I aren't speaking right now. The kitties and I are sort of temporarily homeless."
"And so you decided my kitchen was a good place to crash?"
"Buffy, wait..." Tara pried Schnapps and Kahlua from the legs of her lounge pants and stood, moving carefully towards Buffy. "I told him he could crash on the couch...I didn't know he had cats at the time, but...he doesn't have anywhere else to go."
"Yeah, I'm sorry to impose, but...well, Sophie's allergic to cats and most of my other friends will make Snackwells of the little guys..."
"And we couldn't let him take them to be eaten!" Dawn chimed in, carefully standing up next to Tara, a groggy Vodka in her arms. "Look how cute they are, Buffy! They're just little...it's cruel to feed them to vampires! They don't even have a fighting chance. They're too tiny!"
"Dawn..." Buffy rubbed her forehead. "I'm not a cat person, especially not after a night of vampire, er, slaying. I appreciate the sentiment, but we're not zoned for cats. We have no food for them, no litter box-"
"Oh, I brought kibble," Clem piped up cheerfully. "Kitten chow. Special formula for their little tummies."
"And we put down paper in case they gotta do their business." Dawn held out the gray kitten to her sister. "Come on, Buffy, it's just one night..."
"Well..." Buffy hedged. "They are sorta cute." She took Vodka and held him against her chest. "Aw, he's purring! Hi, little-ew!" She hurriedly handed the kitten back to Dawn and stared down at her shirt in dismay. "Oh, you're so lucky this wasn't new, hairball."
"He didn't mean it! He's just a baby, Buffy. Just a teeny, helpless baby."
"Yeah, Buffy..." Tara turned on the Slayer with her best puppy eyes. "They just need a place to bunk for the night. Just a few hours. They're so little, how much trouble can they be?"
Buffy began to pull her shirt over her head, ignoring the matters of the minor, the male demon and the lesbian in the room with her. "Fine, fine, whatever, one night. But we are not keeping them. Not one of them, not all of them, none of them, do you understand me?"
"Yes, Buffy," They chorused, each smiling beatifically at her, a kitten in their arms. Buffy shook her head and headed upstairs to shower.
-----------------------------
There's plenty more if people want it, this just seemed like a good place to stop for now. R&R if you feel like it!