Weeeeee. I like cats. And I like the idea that Shikamaru doesn't. And jealous Shikamaru is fun. Short A/N yeah!
OH MY GOOOSH. I have been super super inactive and Donut is starting to get on my case. Chose this because it's nice and short and stuff. Forever a laze.
Purr.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The sleek, light brown fur, the challenging green eyes, the pose it held as it surveyed its surroundings, a clear distaste for the people passing it by, and a sense of supremacy about it. These were all things that reminded him of her, even if only somewhat vaguely. The reddish tint of the blood of whatever unfortunate animal had met its death at the cat's jaws seemed only to amplify the similarity.
Shikamaru had never much cared for cats (not that he cared much for anything). In fact, if anything, he greatly disliked them since one of the species had littered his favourite cloud-watching spot by littering it with bird feathers when he was six. It had been quite upsetting, even for a ninja's kid, to see a feline decapitate a pigeon. But this one was different. It wasn't for him. He'd hardly ever see it, right?
Of course, how could he have guessed she'd bring it with her every damn time, that she'd turn out to be such a closet cat lady? How could he have known the animal that so casually glanced up at him with clear superiority and sunk its teeth into his calf would be the cause of his misery now? What was the point of having such supposed amazing analytical abilities if he couldn't foresee situations like this? (Why does Donut seem to have a thing for rhetorical questions at the moment?)
"I hate you," he mouthed to the cat. It seemed rather pleased with itself, and gave its paw a slow, almost taunting lick. He was almost certain the cat wanted to show how it could do whatever it pleased, and always be protected by its fan-wielding owner.
Perhaps he could have taken the constant glares it shot in his direction. Maybe he could have handled the way she fussed over the animal in a way he'd never seen before. It was possible he could have taken the constant attacks and gifts it left him. But the damn thing never shut up.
It paraded around, mewing its head off, announcing its presence to anyone with a pair of decent ears, purring whenever it sat on Temari's lap, eyeing him provocatively. Sometimes he could swear he saw a grin appear on its face whenever he shot it that look of rage.
And to top it all off, she knew. She knew how much he hated the beast (for that was what he only ever referred to it as, with the exception of devil's spawn, fleabag and other such tender names) and he suspected she knew the reason behind why he sometimes threatened to wring its neck not quite under his breath whenever it placed itself on her shoulders, those green eyes always grinning mockingly.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.