"You know, you're quite like a dog, when I think about it."
"Why are you thinking about it?"
Daphne grins, rubbing Fred's shoulder, manicured fingers on blue cotton shirt. He's resting against her side, head on her shoulder, playing idly with a loose thread from the hem of her top; every so often, he turns his head to blow softly across her exposed clavicle, for no other good reason than the gentle shiver it sends down her spine each time.
"I don't know. Maybe I just think about you a lot."
"No mystery in that, then." He lifts his head, a cheeky grin on his face, and she thwacks him softly on the back of the neck, a smirk pushing at her own lips.
"You're awful."
"Oh yes." His fingers rub over hers, linking them to lie on top of his shoulder. There's something about the delicious warmth of each other, the soft skin and subtle scents, that is almost unreasonably relaxing after the tumult of mysteries and chases, and this quiet after the storm is always the tenderer for it. "Oh, and… you're a cat."
"Well, I can think of worse animals to be. Like a dog." That earns her a chuckle, and a gentle shove. "Why a cat?"
"Intelligent. Beautiful. Confident, elegant." His hand cards through her curls. "You know what you want and you go out to get it. You can be independent, or you can work as a team. And you always seem to have nine lives, and land on your feet into the deal." He pulls her closer, brushing his cheek against hers until she really is mewling, nestling into him. Sometimes he surprises her so much, and it's fascinating.
"… But please don't start licking yourself."
And sometimes he's every bit the cheeky little boy. She shoves him off the sofa with a snort of laughter, giggling even harder at the shock on his face.
"Well, you can be really annoying. And some might say you've got too much fur." She ruffles the top of his head, snatching her hand away when he goes to grab it. "But you're loyal, good-looking, smart, you're often playful, but serious when the mood takes you. You fight if you need to, to protect your pack. And you instil loyalty into those you lead. Very much like a dog."
"I thought dogs hated cats, though? And cats hated dogs? If that's true…"
"Only sometimes. Not always the situation." Daphne grasps his hand, helps to pull him back up onto the sofa. "Besides, the cat always rules the roost."
"I thought roosts were for chickens?"
"Do you see Shaggy and Scooby here?"
He barks with laughter, hugging her just because he can, and were he to listen closely enough, he would just be able to hear her little purrs, deep in her chest.