Fetch?
Canadian Raccoon Girl
Chapter Three:
Um, Meow?
Bakura lounged on Kaiba's bed, his furred cheek acknowledging quite comfortably the softness of the satin bedsheets and downy blanket. Even the soft, half-hearted cursing and attempts to move him were ignored as Kaiba attempted to make his perch into a semblance of neatness.
"You're too damn cute," He murmured, rubbing Bakura's white belly with a large hand, eyes softened to dark blue lines. "An angry little bastard when you're awake, but still incredibly cute. Little fuckard." These words, though half-insult, were spoken with a slight tinge of affection, and Bakura smirked, remarking smugly in a small meow that, hell yeah, it couldn't be more true, that he was the best looking bastard and fuckard in the land. A tiny smile momentarily quirked up Kaiba's usually grimacing lips, and then disappeared, much to Bakura's slight disappointment.
"If only there were people like you," He murmured, hand caressing the softly muscular stomach. "People who just don't give a crap. Like the makeinu, only smarter."
Bakura curled against the hand, smirking openly. "Welcome to my world, asshat- He might be cute, but he's a fucking moron."
(Fetch?)
Seto carried Dog close to his chest with one hand, the other holding his large metal briefcase with ease. Dog kept biting him lightly, purring like a mad bastard, and rubbing against his neck, paws braced against his pectorals. A red patch was beginning to grow at the base of his neck , and so he smacked the white-furred cat across the nose, glaring at him.
"You have got to be the first gay cat I have ever met," He grumbled as the cat gave him a slightly scary look, that, on a human face, might have been very much like horniness. "Or do I look like a girl to you?"
After dropping the cat on the living room couch, he lay his brief case down on the coffee table with a bang. "Mokuba?" He called, stepping forward, "Mokuba-nii–chan, we need to go." With a powerful stride, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the white cat alone, with a conniving look on it's face.
—
Bakura's eyes gleamed as he manipulated the locks on Kaiba's briefcase with clever, if non-opposable, paws, purring mightily. The thick case sprang open, and he jumped inside with a bound, gripped the nylon pouch fastened to the lining on the top half with two claws, and yanked it closed with a snap.
In the last strip of light before it snapped closed, Bakura's garnet eyes gleamed cunningly.
(Fetch?)
Seto lay down his briefcase carefully on his office desk, and clicked the combination locks open, noting with mild surprise that they were already at the proper combination. With satisfying click, the case opened.
"Mrrreow?" Came the smug purr of the small white furball curled up in the middle of his briefcase. Seto swore vehemently, both in surprise and anger. "Kami-sama! Dog no baka! You little bastard, how did you get in there?!" He grabbed Dog by the scruff, and hung him inches from his face. "Wha- how- oh, go play in traffic, why don't you! Fetch!"
At the conclusion of the last angry letter of that last angry word, Seto Kaiba found himself with a handful of soft white hair, and a lapful of startled Yami no Bakura.
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