FIC: Without His Rubber Ducky
Title: Without His Rubber Ducky
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane, Steve Carlson, AU, Fantasy, Fluff, Vignette
Rating: G
Thanks to: You, for reading. honeyjojames for the comment_fic prompt ‘RPS, Kitty!Chris/Steve, bath time’ that inspired this. bellasiannaas ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Notes: This isn't just AU you guys... this is an AU of the kitty!Christian AU but charlies_dragon asked and... then he was a kitten-toddler!
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: “You’re not clean, you’re just covered in cat spit”
“What’s going on in here?” Christian’s father demanded from the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him: Christian screaming and crying, hissing and spitting; his claws out, his tail fluffed, his ears flattened and his face red and tear-streaked; wriggling and fighting in his momma’s arms, kicking, scratching and biting as he fought against her. And he found himself wondering when his sweet little kitten had become such a freaking hellcat!
“I’ll be good!” Christian screamed, promised, turning wide, scared eyes on his father. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good. Please don’t let her put me in the water daddy! Please, daddy… please!”
“Your son,” she replied, wincing as Christian scratched her cheek when she tried once again to place him in the bathtub, “really doesn’t want to have a bath. And that hurt, Christian!” She smacked him on the butt as she lowered him into the tub, dropping him into the water.
Christian screamed and yowled, and shot straight back up out of the water, running out of the room, leaving a trail of bubbly water in his wake. His parents looked at each other, looked at the water all over the floor and sighed.
“I’ll clean it up,” Christian’s dad said, kissing her on the cheek. “You go find Chris.”
She nodded and followed the trail of water across the landing into Christian’s room and under his bed. She sat down, cross-legged and lifted up the sheet to find her son curled into a ball against the wall at the far corner of his bed, shivering and crying, desperately trying to dry himself off, his tongue dragging over and over his fur and skin. “Oh, Chris…” She sighed softly when Christian hissed at her, and then told her to go away. She stood up and grabbed a warm, fluffy towel and placed it on the bed, before dragging the bed away from the wall. Leaning over, she scooped Christian up, trying to ignore his cries as she wrapped him up in the towel, rubbing his head dry; soft giggles coming from under the towel. She smiled when she pulled the towel down over his face to find his tears had stopped and he was smiling. Stroking her hand over his head, she skritched his ears; a wobbly, uncertain purr coming from him, even as he continued sniffing softly.
“Good boy,” she murmured, straightening up and carrying him in her arms to curl up on the couch in the lounge.
“I’m sorry, momma.” Christian pushed himself out of the towel and pressed a kiss to his momma’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you but I don’t like the water.”
“A bath isn’t a punishment, Christian,” she promised, continuing to both towel Christian dry and pet him reassuringly; Christian’s purr strengthening as he relaxed against his momma. “You didn’t do anything wrong. A bath is for getting clean, like me and your daddy do.”
Christian wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t need a bath for getting clean,” he insisted. “I can clean myself.” He looked up as his daddy sat down on the couch next to him, reaching over and stroking a hand down his side. “I can! Look…” He wriggled out of the towel and curled up on his momma’s lap, determinedly showing his parents as he washed his forearm; tongue scraping over and over til he was sure it was clean “See? See?”
“I see, Christian.” His daddy nodded, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. He picked Christian up from his momma to sit on him. “How about I make a deal with you, son?” He smiled when Christian cocked his head to one side, blinked and chirped curiously at him. “If you can keep yourself clean, to your momma’s standards, for the rest of the week, then you’re allowed to keep washing yourself. But, if your momma thinks that you’re not doing it, you have a bath when your momma says you need one and without any fuss or scratching.”
Christian nodded exuberantly. “I can do it! I can keep myself clean, I can I can, I promise.”
***
The next day, in school.
Stevie slouched down next to Christian in the school yard, his back to the wall and stared down at the rip in his pants, the dirt and blood smeared over his knees and hands. “My mom’s gonna kill me,” he whined. “And worse… she’s gonna make me take a bath… I had one yesterday!”
Christian looked and Stevie and giggled. “Yeah, you are kinda dirty.”
“Dunno what you’re laughing at,” Stevie huffed. “You’re just as dirty as me and your fur’s all icky and gross and sticky so you’re gonna have to have a bath too and you like them less than me!”
Christian giggled again and shook his head. “Nope. No bath. Made deal with my daddy. If I can keep myself clean then I don’t gotta have nasty baths,” he beamed, then wrinkled his nose and leaned over, starting to quickly bathe his leg with his tongue, cleaning the worst of the dirt and blood from his knee. “I can clean myself, see? I can clean you too, if you wants? Then you don’t gotta have baths neither.” He offered, frowning when Stevie shook his head.
Stevie wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “That’s not clean. That’s just covering yourself in cat spit!” He declared, jumping to his feet and running towards his mom as she came for him, not seeing the crest-fallen look on Christian’s face. “Bye, Chris! See you tomorrow!”
“Bye Stevie” Christian replied, and licked the back of his hand, lifting it to his face, cleaning the dirt from his cheek as he waited for his momma.
***
Later that evening
“Christian? Christian honey, you’re dinner’s ready? Where are you, Christian?” His momma called, going from room to room, looking for him.
“In the bathroom, momma,” he called back.
“Well be quick or you’re dinner will get cold.”
“OK!”
She knocked on the bathroom door again a few minutes later, cracking the door open slightly. “Are you ok, honey?” She asked, laughing when she saw Christian sitting in the bathtub in a couple of inches of water. He was trembling; his ears flat against his head and very obviously unhappy, mrowing his displeasure as he concentrated on washing himself, splashing his fur with the water. “What are you doing?”
Christian blinked at her - wasn’t it obvious what he was doing? “Having a bath.”
“I can see that,” she said, sitting down on the edge, running her hand down his back, frowning at how cold the water was. “But why? I thought you and daddy had a deal so that you didn’t have to have a bath because you don’t like them?”
“I don’t,” Christian pouted. “But Stevie said I wasn’t cleaning myself and that I was just coverin myself in cat spit and that it made my fur icky and gross.” Fresh tears tracked down his face, his tail swishing back and forth in the water, making him yelp as he splashed himself with more freezing water.
“Oh, Christian…” She bit back a laugh at the look of pure misery on his face. She grabbed a towel from the rail and picked Christian out of the bath, sitting him down on the towel on the toilet seat. “Let’s do this properly.” She bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead, rubbing the top of his head. “You need warm water to have a bath, not cold. Do you want bubbles?” Christian nodded, smiling as he watched his momma pouring in the liquid and the water starting to bubble. He giggled when she blew a handful of bubbles at him. “Then, when the water’s warm we put you in.” She stepped aside and let Christian climb into the tub himself; mrowing mournfully as he sank into the waist-high water. He hunched in on himself, knees drawn up to his chest, lower lip stuck out in a pout and wide sad eyes on his momma. “We’ll get you non-icky and gross quickly,” she promised.
“And then Stevie’ll like me again?” Christian asked hopefully.
His momma nodded as she picked up the bottle of shampoo, pouring some into her hands before working it through Christian’s fur; Christian giggling and purring as she tickled and stroked him, working the shampoo through his fur, but then he yelped and whining when she rinsed him clean again. “There, all done.” She lifted him out of the tub, wrapping him up in the towel once again and carrying him into his bedroom. Sitting him down on his bed, she quickly towelled him dry and ran a soft brush through his fur, working out the tangles. “Brave boy,” she praised him, watching as he pulled his pyjamas on and curled up, wrapping his tail around him. “And now you’re all clean and not icky and not gross.”
“And Stevie’ll like me again?” Christian asked again.
“Of course he will, Christian. You boys are best friends.” She ran her hand through his fur and he purred softly, rubbing against her hand. “He doesn’t really think you’re icky and gross. He’s just not used to the way kittens groom themselves.”
“I said I’d wash him too. But I don’t think he likes cat spit, does he? I don’t like baths.”
“Maybe Stevie likes having a bath, in the same way you like to wash yourself?”
“Maybe,” Christian agreed, although he didn’t sound very convinced. He stretched out and yawned. “Did you say it was dinner time, momma? Cos I’m hungry.”
“It was, yes. But I think your dinner’s cold by now. Do you want some tuna instead?”
Christian’s face lit up and he nodded, leaping to the floor. “Yes please!” He grinned and raced down the stairs to the kitchen, scrambling onto a chair and waiting for his momma.
~El Fin~
Author: Cassie Morgan badfalcon
Fandom: ITBN
Categories: Christian Kane, Steve Carlson, AU, Fantasy, Fluff, Vignette
Rating: G
Thanks to: You, for reading. honeyjojames for the comment_fic prompt ‘RPS, Kitty!Chris/Steve, bath time’ that inspired this. bellasiannaas ever, for the beta, handholding and encouragement!
Notes: This isn't just AU you guys... this is an AU of the kitty!Christian AU but charlies_dragon asked and... then he was a kitten-toddler!
Disclaimer: Christian Kane & Steve Carlson are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it
Summary: “You’re not clean, you’re just covered in cat spit”
“What’s going on in here?” Christian’s father demanded from the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him: Christian screaming and crying, hissing and spitting; his claws out, his tail fluffed, his ears flattened and his face red and tear-streaked; wriggling and fighting in his momma’s arms, kicking, scratching and biting as he fought against her. And he found himself wondering when his sweet little kitten had become such a freaking hellcat!
“I’ll be good!” Christian screamed, promised, turning wide, scared eyes on his father. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good. Please don’t let her put me in the water daddy! Please, daddy… please!”
“Your son,” she replied, wincing as Christian scratched her cheek when she tried once again to place him in the bathtub, “really doesn’t want to have a bath. And that hurt, Christian!” She smacked him on the butt as she lowered him into the tub, dropping him into the water.
Christian screamed and yowled, and shot straight back up out of the water, running out of the room, leaving a trail of bubbly water in his wake. His parents looked at each other, looked at the water all over the floor and sighed.
“I’ll clean it up,” Christian’s dad said, kissing her on the cheek. “You go find Chris.”
She nodded and followed the trail of water across the landing into Christian’s room and under his bed. She sat down, cross-legged and lifted up the sheet to find her son curled into a ball against the wall at the far corner of his bed, shivering and crying, desperately trying to dry himself off, his tongue dragging over and over his fur and skin. “Oh, Chris…” She sighed softly when Christian hissed at her, and then told her to go away. She stood up and grabbed a warm, fluffy towel and placed it on the bed, before dragging the bed away from the wall. Leaning over, she scooped Christian up, trying to ignore his cries as she wrapped him up in the towel, rubbing his head dry; soft giggles coming from under the towel. She smiled when she pulled the towel down over his face to find his tears had stopped and he was smiling. Stroking her hand over his head, she skritched his ears; a wobbly, uncertain purr coming from him, even as he continued sniffing softly.
“Good boy,” she murmured, straightening up and carrying him in her arms to curl up on the couch in the lounge.
“I’m sorry, momma.” Christian pushed himself out of the towel and pressed a kiss to his momma’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you but I don’t like the water.”
“A bath isn’t a punishment, Christian,” she promised, continuing to both towel Christian dry and pet him reassuringly; Christian’s purr strengthening as he relaxed against his momma. “You didn’t do anything wrong. A bath is for getting clean, like me and your daddy do.”
Christian wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t need a bath for getting clean,” he insisted. “I can clean myself.” He looked up as his daddy sat down on the couch next to him, reaching over and stroking a hand down his side. “I can! Look…” He wriggled out of the towel and curled up on his momma’s lap, determinedly showing his parents as he washed his forearm; tongue scraping over and over til he was sure it was clean “See? See?”
“I see, Christian.” His daddy nodded, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. He picked Christian up from his momma to sit on him. “How about I make a deal with you, son?” He smiled when Christian cocked his head to one side, blinked and chirped curiously at him. “If you can keep yourself clean, to your momma’s standards, for the rest of the week, then you’re allowed to keep washing yourself. But, if your momma thinks that you’re not doing it, you have a bath when your momma says you need one and without any fuss or scratching.”
Christian nodded exuberantly. “I can do it! I can keep myself clean, I can I can, I promise.”
***
The next day, in school.
Stevie slouched down next to Christian in the school yard, his back to the wall and stared down at the rip in his pants, the dirt and blood smeared over his knees and hands. “My mom’s gonna kill me,” he whined. “And worse… she’s gonna make me take a bath… I had one yesterday!”
Christian looked and Stevie and giggled. “Yeah, you are kinda dirty.”
“Dunno what you’re laughing at,” Stevie huffed. “You’re just as dirty as me and your fur’s all icky and gross and sticky so you’re gonna have to have a bath too and you like them less than me!”
Christian giggled again and shook his head. “Nope. No bath. Made deal with my daddy. If I can keep myself clean then I don’t gotta have nasty baths,” he beamed, then wrinkled his nose and leaned over, starting to quickly bathe his leg with his tongue, cleaning the worst of the dirt and blood from his knee. “I can clean myself, see? I can clean you too, if you wants? Then you don’t gotta have baths neither.” He offered, frowning when Stevie shook his head.
Stevie wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “That’s not clean. That’s just covering yourself in cat spit!” He declared, jumping to his feet and running towards his mom as she came for him, not seeing the crest-fallen look on Christian’s face. “Bye, Chris! See you tomorrow!”
“Bye Stevie” Christian replied, and licked the back of his hand, lifting it to his face, cleaning the dirt from his cheek as he waited for his momma.
***
Later that evening
“Christian? Christian honey, you’re dinner’s ready? Where are you, Christian?” His momma called, going from room to room, looking for him.
“In the bathroom, momma,” he called back.
“Well be quick or you’re dinner will get cold.”
“OK!”
She knocked on the bathroom door again a few minutes later, cracking the door open slightly. “Are you ok, honey?” She asked, laughing when she saw Christian sitting in the bathtub in a couple of inches of water. He was trembling; his ears flat against his head and very obviously unhappy, mrowing his displeasure as he concentrated on washing himself, splashing his fur with the water. “What are you doing?”
Christian blinked at her - wasn’t it obvious what he was doing? “Having a bath.”
“I can see that,” she said, sitting down on the edge, running her hand down his back, frowning at how cold the water was. “But why? I thought you and daddy had a deal so that you didn’t have to have a bath because you don’t like them?”
“I don’t,” Christian pouted. “But Stevie said I wasn’t cleaning myself and that I was just coverin myself in cat spit and that it made my fur icky and gross.” Fresh tears tracked down his face, his tail swishing back and forth in the water, making him yelp as he splashed himself with more freezing water.
“Oh, Christian…” She bit back a laugh at the look of pure misery on his face. She grabbed a towel from the rail and picked Christian out of the bath, sitting him down on the towel on the toilet seat. “Let’s do this properly.” She bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead, rubbing the top of his head. “You need warm water to have a bath, not cold. Do you want bubbles?” Christian nodded, smiling as he watched his momma pouring in the liquid and the water starting to bubble. He giggled when she blew a handful of bubbles at him. “Then, when the water’s warm we put you in.” She stepped aside and let Christian climb into the tub himself; mrowing mournfully as he sank into the waist-high water. He hunched in on himself, knees drawn up to his chest, lower lip stuck out in a pout and wide sad eyes on his momma. “We’ll get you non-icky and gross quickly,” she promised.
“And then Stevie’ll like me again?” Christian asked hopefully.
His momma nodded as she picked up the bottle of shampoo, pouring some into her hands before working it through Christian’s fur; Christian giggling and purring as she tickled and stroked him, working the shampoo through his fur, but then he yelped and whining when she rinsed him clean again. “There, all done.” She lifted him out of the tub, wrapping him up in the towel once again and carrying him into his bedroom. Sitting him down on his bed, she quickly towelled him dry and ran a soft brush through his fur, working out the tangles. “Brave boy,” she praised him, watching as he pulled his pyjamas on and curled up, wrapping his tail around him. “And now you’re all clean and not icky and not gross.”
“And Stevie’ll like me again?” Christian asked again.
“Of course he will, Christian. You boys are best friends.” She ran her hand through his fur and he purred softly, rubbing against her hand. “He doesn’t really think you’re icky and gross. He’s just not used to the way kittens groom themselves.”
“I said I’d wash him too. But I don’t think he likes cat spit, does he? I don’t like baths.”
“Maybe Stevie likes having a bath, in the same way you like to wash yourself?”
“Maybe,” Christian agreed, although he didn’t sound very convinced. He stretched out and yawned. “Did you say it was dinner time, momma? Cos I’m hungry.”
“It was, yes. But I think your dinner’s cold by now. Do you want some tuna instead?”
Christian’s face lit up and he nodded, leaping to the floor. “Yes please!” He grinned and raced down the stairs to the kitchen, scrambling onto a chair and waiting for his momma.
~El Fin~