Lance had never felt more violated in his entire life.

After his brilliant escape, he'd gone into a panic trying to rationalize everything he'd just experienced without success. He had even knocked his head against a hydrant several times in an attempt to wake up from what he had hoped to had been an oddly realistic nightmare. When the only thing he had managed to do was gain a headache, Lance had decided he needed a plan.

Well, first he had panicked some more, and probably frightened a few pedestrians with his crazy cat wailing. But then he devised his plan.

If he could just recognize any kind of landmark, he could start trying to make it Hunk and Shay's house. Then he could just use Hunk's bleeding heart to his advantage to worm his way into their home. After all, there was no way Hunk would be able to ignore a starving cat if it showed up on his doorstep. Once inside, he'd find a way to get a message to them. He'd spell out a message in his litter box if he had to. After that… he still hadn't worked out the details, but by then Hunk would be helping to figure out a way to change him back. A way that hopefully did not involve going back to those people.

It was a perfectly reasonable plan. Lance just hadn't predicted that after several fruitless hours traversing the city with his disoriented sense of direction, his own empty stomach would have betrayed him and led him into a hidden cat trap set by the city animal shelter. Damn Fancy Feast. Lance spent the entire night meowing and cursing his rotten luck.

The very next morning he was picked up and transported to animal hell.

Lance was quickly shoved into his crate, Lance hissed at the vet one more time before he curled up in the back hiding his head in shame as the vet discarded two needles and cleaned up The Thermometer.

"He's beautiful, but he sure is a feisty," the doctor told the shelter worker that had dropped Lance off.

"Yeah," the worker sighed in disappointment. "I still can't decide if I want to keep him and see if his temperament improves for adoption or just go ahead and release him as soon as he's neutered."

Lance jerked his head up so fast he knocked it against the roof of his crate. The pain was nothing compared to the new threat Lance just learned about. Neutered? Neutered?! Oh, hell no! Lance ran up to the front of the crate and tried to desperately communicate with the doctor. No, no, no! You can't neuter me! I'm human! Those parts are still essential to me! What the hell kind of torture chamber is this?!

The two bastards just laughed at Lance's frantic meowing. "Well, just let me know what you decide when you bring him in next Wednesday with the rest of your animals, that way I can go ahead and notch his ear if you plan on releasing him," the doctor said.

Lance swayed, suddenly feeling queazy. Wednesday. I have till Wednesday to make my escape, Lance thought in dread.

When they took him back to the shelter and placed him in a kennel, Lance felt like a prisoner counting down the days until his execution.

Ok, ok, Lance thought as he paced back and forth in his kennel, trying to block all the other animals' annoying yapping. So being an ass and trying to bite and scratch his way out of here was not going to happen. Clearly, these people had way too much experience dealing with asshole cats to manage a successful jailbreak. So… Lance wracked his brain for ideas.

Just then his ears perked up when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching his kennel. He pressed his face against the metallic rods of the door listening out for what the people were saying.

"…lar you're looking for?"

"Just something low maintenance really. And small."

Of course! Shelters adopted out animals! The worker had said Lance still had a chance of being adopted! And they did say he was beautiful, not that that was much of a surprise. Of course he'd be handsome in any form he took.

Immediately Lance straightened out his back and sat in front of the kennel in what he imagined was an exemplary cat pose. He meowed charmingly as the footsteps neared. They stopped somewhere still out of sight probably looking at other animals, and Lance cleared his throat and meowed a little louder.

"If you're looking for something low maintenance than I'd suggest going for something older. Or fish. Kittens and puppies can be a handful and require time and training."

"Hm." One pair of footsteps continued walking and the other followed after.

Lance felt his little cat heart pound in his body as a male's chest paused in front of his kennel. Then, Lance's breath hitched in his throat, they bent down, and a man with messy black hair (a mullet? For real? In this day and age?) peered into Lance's kennel. Lance wasted no time and began strutting around in his kennel, trying to show off his best sides.

Yeah, that's right. Look at this glorious fur, he meowed turning left then turning right. Dun. Dun. Dainty cat steps. Dainty cat steps.

"Oh," the shelter worked peered down as well, inspecting Lance's parade with mirth. "We actually just picked this one up this morning." He laughed. "Cat must be bipolar, I swear. He wasn't nearly this… happy when we picked him up, to put it lightly."

The other man smirked at Lance. "He sounds like an idiot," he said quietly.

Lance stopped in his tracks, jerking his head toward the door. Excuse you?! I'm here being a perfect angel and you treat me like this, asshole! He flew at the door but the man retracted his face just before Lance could get at him. Get back here, you jerk! I'm gonna wreck that stupid face of yours! Lance stuck his paws through the bars, claws extended, trying to snag the man's ugly red jacket.

"Now that's more like the cat we first found," the worker said in amusement. "He's been vaccinated already but he has yet to be fixed."

"Good. I'll take him."

"What?"

What?

Both Lance and the shelter worker stared at the man in confusion.

"He hasn't been neutered. That means he's be cheaper, right?" he explained easily.

Dude, you make me sound like a prostitute when you say it like that, Lance thought, head still reeling at the prospect that he was actually going to get adopted so soon. Already, he was looking at the man in a new light. His savior. His penny-pinching savior.

"Well, yes," the worker started. "But we always recommend you get your pets fixed unless you plan on breeding them."

"Nah, it's fine. I'll take this dumbass as is."

The worker laughed, and Lance made another angry swipe for the guy's jacket. "Alright. I'm not gonna stand between a man and his cat," the worker said.

The man with mullet stared at Lance with his dark eyes as he spoke, and Lance sensed a sort of sadness hidden within their depths. "I guess I can't keep calling you dumbass forever. How 'bout… uh… Blue?"

Lance would have face-palmed if he could. You're the real dumbass, Lance meowed.

The man smiled, (and shit, Lance totally didn't find that cute) and he stuck a finger in the kennel to try and pet Lance. "Blue it is." Lance bit his finger.

Papers signed, money exchanged, and a short car ride later, Lance found himself released into a small apartment living room. 'Cluttered' was the first word that came to mind. It looked more like a workshop than a living space with all the mechanical parts lying around, not to mention the mountain of books cluttering what Lance could only assume was a table underneath and part of the sofa. Lance didn't even have to look inside all those carryout boxes and bags to know there was probably day-old scraps in all of them.

"Yeah, it's a bit messy. But it's home," the man, Keith, said warmly looking down at Lance who just stared up at him blankly. Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance's unblinking gaze. "Hey don't judge me. This is your home now too."

Not for long, Lance thought as he stepped cautiously around the room. Keith just watched Lance as he inspected his new living area before he stepped into another room.

As soon as Keith was out of sight, Lance scrambled to the nearest windowsill. Closed! Lance leapt down and zeroed in on an open door, running towards it. Nope. Bathroom. Lance ran out then into the next room across the hall. He spotted a window inside and ran towards it as well. Dammit! It was closed too! Lance turned and ran back out into the narrow hallway. He looked around for any other rooms seeing only the open doorway Keith had stepped into. He ran there, his last hope, and inevitably slammed into Keith's ankles.

"Fuckin-" Two bowls clattered onto the floor, spraying Lance with water and dry cat food. "You little shit, look what you did!" Keith shouted in exasperation as he moved around what Lance now saw was the kitchen to get a broom.

It's not my fault you weren't watching where you were going! Lance meowed angrily, shaking his wet fur purposefully near Keith then walking away haughtily, tail in the air. If he had turned around, Lance would have seen the absolutely baffled expression on the bastard's face.

"Damn psychotic cat," Keith grumbled under his breath. Lance smirked triumphantly as he walked back into the living room.

Standing in the middle of the room, however, everything suddenly seemed to tower over Lance, and he felt small and powerless. The four walls surrounding him felt even more overbearing than the kennel had been, and it struck Lance just how helpless his situation was stuck in this stranger's house. The words he had been trying not to think about crept into his head.

What if he was stuck like this forever?

"Hey, uh… Blue." Lance wearily turned his head to look at Keith who was crouched by the kitchen doorway with a bowl in his hand. He had a constipated look on his face, his eyebrows scrunched up and lips pursed together as he stared down at Lance. Keith cleared his throat and started speaking in an awkward, high-pitched tone. "Come here, Blue. Come here, kitty kit – I can't do this. Just get over here and eat your food."

Lance moaned and hid his head under his paws. And worse yet, he was stuck with this idiot as his new owner.