Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
I have three different Romaneko!/Americat! stories started and sitting in my files, and I'd really love to write one, but I have so many stories going on right now! They'll have to wait. Still, this one popped up when I was trying to think of a Valentine's story (I have on in the works, yes I know it's late, it'll be up...er, sometime. Soon I hope? Things have been...difficult.) and though I really liked it, it was pretty clear it was going to be a chaptered fic, and I really wanted a one-shot for Valentines. I'm thinking maybe I can convert this one into a series of drabbles though. Might be cute?
I already have their names selected, you'll see. Don't be surprised if the cats show up in Educating America, too. Cats! Huh! What are they good for? Absolutely everything!
Lost and miserable and deeply distressed, he stared at the rain falling thick and fast outside his makeshift shelter from the storm. The damp cardboard box he was huddled in was doing little to shield him from the cold, and his wet fur clung to his body, making him even more miserable and cold. He shivered, shifting on his paws, curling his whip-like tail around his body in a hopeless attempt to keep warm (he knew he must look like a drowned rat, and that added insult to unbelievable injury), and mao'd'his misery to the dark and pitiless world: Come and save me already, you stupid bastard!
A pair of dirty white sneakers appeared outside his box, wet and muddy and unfamiliar, and he cowered against the back of the box, terrified of what was going to happen to him. The strange shoes were followed quickly by an equally unfamiliar face and voice. Blue eyes peered curiously at him behind fogged lenses as the young man crouched outside his box asked, "Hey there, little guy. What're you doing in there?"
Being cold and wet and miserable, idiot. What does it look like? He mowled and spat, irritated by the stupidity of the question and terrified of the strange man, laying his ears down and trying to look smaller as he plastered himself in a sodden corner. The man reached for him, and he cowered harder, yowling in distress. No don't eat me don' t eat me, I taste terrible!
"You look like you're in need of a hero, buddy!" The man exclaimed, lifting him out of the box and tucking him into the bomber jacket he wore. "C'mon, you can come home with me. We'll get you all fixed up, don't worry." The jacket was warm and dry and soft, lined with silk, and he burrowed gratefully into its depths, plastering himself against the man's side and digging his claws into a broad chest for extra security. "Ow, hey. Easy on the goods, buddy." The man winced, gently prying the claws from his skin and pulling his jacket closed around the wet feline, supporting him in the crook of his arm and looking down at him, scratching his head with two fingers. "Now let's get you home and dry, 'kay?"
He sneezed in the man's face by way of agreement, and blue eyes blinked behind lenses splattered with kitty snot. "I'll take that as a yes."
He was a lot warmer, though still wet, when they arrived at the place the young man called 'home' a little while later, where he was pulled from his nice warm nest in the jacket to be deposited on the cold, hard surface of a coffeetable in the living room and told to wait until the young man came back with a towel. He took the opportunity to shake some of the water from his coat, and relocated himself to the couch, which though worn, looked comfortable, and began to groom himself.
"Aw, hey! Don't sit on the couch, you're getting it all wet!" The young man protested when he returned. "You were supposed to wait on the coffee table."
He sniffed disdainfully. As if he would wait on that cold, hard surface when there was a perfectly soft, warm couch right here to help soak the water from his fur. The young man sighed, settling down next to him on the couch and pulling him into his lap, frowning resignedly at the wet spot he left behind. "Now I'm gonna have to get another towel for the couch." He told him as he began towelling him off. He wasn't thrilled with the sensation of the rough terrycloth ruffling his fur this way and that, but the man was gentle and it was getting him dry faster, so he allowed it with only a little struggling to show that he could get away if he really wanted, but would stay since the man was making himself useful and all.
Before he realized it he was a puddle of fur across the man's lap, as strong fingers massaged his body through the towel, firm and gentle and delicious, just what he needed after his terrible ordeal. "Oh yeah, you like that, don't you." The young man chuckled, rubbing little circles into tiny kitty shoulders and grinning when the cat's head fell limply to the side with a deep sigh, eyes closing in pleasure. "Much better than that dirty old box."
Shut up and keep petting. He sighed, rolling onto his side and stretching out his paws. All too soon he was mostly dry, and the massage ceased with a few firm strokes over his back and side which left him limp and borderline comatose.
"Y'know, you're a really pretty cat under all that water." The man observed, tossing the damp towel aside. "I bet you're someone's pet, aren't'cha. What were you doin' all lost and alone in the big bad world, babydoll?" He scratched a furry chin. "You're lucky I found you. It's supposed to get really cold tonight."
He lifted his chin in pleasure, and sneezed violently, twice, right in the young man's face.
"This is going to be a habit with you, isn't it." The man said wryly, pulling off his glasses and wiping them on his shoulder, and attempting to clean the snot from his face on the short sleeve of his t-shirt.
He purred smugly.
"You're lucky you're cute." The man told him, rubbing a pointed ear.
Damn right I am. He purred, eyes closing in satisfaction.
AN: In America we have a saying about cats: 'You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats.' I've found this to be largely true. Those of you who work with animals will find a lot of this familiar.
I have never rescued a cat that didn't sneeze in my face shortly afterward.
When I first started writing this I was thinking Romano's cat would be a bit more...neurotic, but then I realized that even though he's probably fussy and sassy and a little guarded, Romano probably also spoils him rotten. Little prince kitten! Cute. Of course America's cat is Mister Curious and Friendly, one of those cats that just loves to explore and gets into everything. One of those cats who likes to meet people and animals doesn't get fussed even when they don't necessarily feel the same way. He's a pretty chill and friendly cat! I see him as a Maine Coon cross.
Oh! I learned some interesting things about South Italy and cats. Did you know they're protected in Rome? There's all kinds of laws giving them special priviledges and rights. I'd tell you more, but I'm trying to write- so if you're interested, look up 'Gatti de Roma'! Or just type in 'cats Rome' into the search engine, that works too.