Misfortune Always Includes Fortune (fanfiction)
Title: Misfortune Always Includes Fortune
Author: marinoa
Characters/pairing: France, England, chibi!FrUK, sort of.
Rating: K
Summary: Tell a small one not to do something and the very next moment find them doing exactly the forbidden thing. But sometimes, perhaps, the consequences might not be so bad after all. AU, kittens.
Misfortune Always Includes Fortune
“No matter what, Horatio, never climb trees!”
Horatio trained his huge, green eyes up on Napoléon's blue ones, curious. “Why?”
Napoléon jumped gracefully down from a big rock and found his place comfortably beside Horatio, laying down and curling up around him, making the smaller kitten lay down too. There was nothing Napoléon loved more than cuddling with his favourite friend. Even cuddling with his human couldn't beat that.
A large, furry tail wrapped around Horatio, and the kitten tried to catch the tip of it with his small paw. Eventually he succeeded and trapped the tip of Napoléon's tail under his paws, giving the long, white fur a few licks out of instinct. He would never admit it to the older kitten, but there was nothing more Horatio admired more than Napoléon's gorgeous fur. Nothing was as fun as playing with that fur, not even playing with his human's eyebrows.
“Why shouldn't I ever climb a tree?” Horatio repeated his question as Napoléon started licking him affectionately behind his ear.
“Why? I'll tell you.” Napoléon stopped licking, but Horatio continued purring nonetheless. “It's a horrible trap; you can easily get up there, but it's impossible to come back down. You might get stuck there for ever... and starve!”
Horatio gasped in awe. Napoléon nodded seriously. “Yes, I've heard of cats that had starved up there, because there was no one to save them and they couldn't get down. And I've seen myself how one kitten, after realising he couldn't climb down, decided to jump.”
“Jump? From a tree?”
“As I told you! I saw it myself. It was when we had snow, do you remember that white thing? The kitten said he wouldn't get hurt because snow was soft, and jumped. But still he broke a bone. He was lucky his human found him, otherwise he would have frozen!”
Such horror stories sent shivers up Horatio's tail and he buried his pink nose in Napoléon's fur and decided that tree climbing wasn't his cup of milk. That was, before the older kitten said the following: “Though, fortunately, you are so small that you probably even couldn't climb a tree yet.”
What? Horatio's tip of tail twitched just slightly. Was Napoléon mocking him? He wasn't a weakling any more! Of course he could climb a tree if he wanted, even though he wasn't a big cat yet!
“I have to go now,” Napoléon said and got up. “It's the time my human gives me food. I'll be right back!”
I'll show him, Horatio though as he watched the older kitten's retreating tail. I'll show him, and then he will know that I'm as strong as him, and even stronger!
xXx
Arthur shifted worriedly and glanced at the clock (not that he could read the thing, but he knew adults always looked at time when they were waiting for something). Despite his inability to understand what sense there was in watching at sticks going round and round without a particular aim, he knew that he hadn't seen Horatio since morning, and it was unusual for the kitten not to be around at lunch time.
“Stop worrying, he's a cat and can take care of himself. He's probably just napping somewhere with that white cat we've seen him with a couple of times,” Arthur's mother said reassuringly, but the boy didn't believe her, and immediately on emptying his plate, he run out to look for his kitten.
After wandering around on streets in hopes of finding his precious pet for half an hour, Arthur was on the verge of tears. “Where are you, Horatio?” he whispered quietly, almost sobbing, eyes blurring from yet unshod tears. “Where are you, where are you, where are you, please be fine, please come home...”
There was yet one place Arthur could look from without disobeying his parents' rules about the area he was allowed to walk alone in, and that place was an old park. Barely even seeing anything due to his blurred vision, the boy entered the park and quietly called for his kitten, “Horatio... Horatio!”
And then it caught his ear - a small, familiar meow somewhere not too far.
“Horatio!” Arthur cried in wild joy and wiped his eyes to see better. He ran towards the meowing sound, but couldn't see his pet anywhere. Puzzled, he stopped and looked around; he was positive the meows had originated close there.
“Meow!” A high, small sound made Arthur look up.
“Horatio!”
The poor kitten was high on a branch of a tree, frantically digging all his nails into the wood, eyes wide and scared. “Meow!” he cried, all rigid with fear. “Meow!”
“Horatio!” Tears were back in Arthur's eyes, and this time they ran freely down his round cheeks. Despair got to the small boy; Horatio was so high - how had he even got up there? - and Arthur himself was still too small to reach even the first branch of the tree, even if he jumped - he had tried and failed, only managing to get scratches on his hands.
“Meow!” Arthur looked down, seeing a white cat, also yet a kitten, at his feet. The cat was meowing and looking at Horatio, as if speaking to him, and then stared at Arthur with his blue eyes. Vaguely realising that it was the cat that they had sometimes seen with Horatio, Arthur could only cry more; it was so frustrating to be so small, he couldn't even help his own kitten, his cute poor kitten that was now stuck up in a tree, unable to come down, and Arthur could do nothing about it. He hated himself for it, and even the white cat seemed to hate him, because it ran off with a few meows.
Between his desperate sobs Arthur considered running back home and getting his dad to help him, but he couldn't just leave Horatio up in the tree alone, especially when he was meowing so helplessly that it made Arthur's heart clench. What if he fell while Arthur wasn't there? No, the boy just couldn't leave him, he couldn't, but he couldn't help him either, and so he stood there under the tree and cried.
“Quel est-il, Napoléon? ...Huh? What is wrong?”
It took Arthur a moment to realise that there was somebody speaking to him, and he started as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What is wrong?” someone asked him (a bit funnily) again, and Arthur turned around to see another boy, perhaps slightly older than him, standing by his side with a concerned look on his face. “Are you hurt?”
Arthur couldn't answer, so he only shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands in shame for being caught crying and yet unable to stop.
The other boy knelt before him and prised his hands from his face. “Tell me,” he coaxed. “Where does it hurt?”
“No,” Arthur managed to sob, hiccups tearing his small chest. “M-my kit- k-kitten..” He pointed up at the tree, where the terrified creature held onto the branch like a drowning man.
“Oh,” the older boy said, looking from the crying boy to the meowing kitten. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, but then knelt before Arthur again and looked him in the eyes. “I'll get your kitten,” he said softly. “I'll get him, so please stop crying, d'accord?”
Arthur merely nodded and did his best to stop the tears and hiccups. He watched as the the older boy managed to reach the first branch and heave himself on it, then proceed higher. Holding his breath Arthur followed with his eyes the other boy's way up where poor Horatio was, and watched him reach with his hand to touch the kitten.
Unfortunately Horatio was panicking too much to realise that the other boy was there to help him. He detached one of his paws so quickly that neither Arthur nor the other boy could see it whiz in the air.
“Aïe!”
Arthur's heart skipped a beat and for a terrifying second he thought the boy would fall from the tree, but fortunately his firm grip on the branch didn't loosen.
“Horatio, he's helping you!” Arthur shouted up to calm down his kitten. “He won't hurt you!”
“Meow!” the white cat that had returned with the boy said, and at that, Horatio seemed to calm down enough to let the older boy take him in his hands and bring safely down on the ground and in Arthur's open arms.
“Horatio!” Arthur sobbed as he hugged his still trembling pet. “Silly, silly kitty, why did you climb up there, don't do that, ever again...”
The other boy stood there, his white cat at his feet, both watching intently at Arthur petting his kitten. Suddenly Arthur became aware of the stares and remembered good manners. “Um,” he said shyly and glanced at the older boy. “Thank you...”
The boy smiled brightly and came closer. He reached with his hand - the one with thin red scratches on it - and brushed the remnants of tears away from Arthur's face. “No problem,” he said gently.
An awkward silence followed his words, as neither of the boys did quite know what to say, until the other boy spoke again. “I'm Francis,” he said. “What's your name?”
“Arthur,” Arthur said and blushed a little when Francis smiled at him widely and his blue eyes twinkled. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.”
“Um,” Arthur said again, but that was when Horatio started wiggling in his arms and he crouched to put the cat down on the grass. The white kitten was immediately by the smaller one's side and reached with his paw, as if smacking Horatio on the head. Before Arthur could scold him for it, the white cat licked the spot he had hit and the two kittens curled up together, tightly as if they were one, both purring loudly.
Francis laughed and crouched beside Arthur. “Aren't they,” he paused and frowned a bit. “How do you say it? Mignon.” Then his face lit up. “Ah, cute!” He grinned at Arthur and tried again. “Aren't they so cute together?”
Arthur couldn't deny that, and smiled, too. “I think they are friends. I've seen Horatio playing with your kitten.” Then he asked, almost shyly, “What is your cat's name?”
“Napoléon,” Francis said proudly. “Napoléon was a great French emperor.”
Arthur refused to be left behind in the matter. “Oh yeah, well Horatio was a great English admiral!” And even though Arthur wasn't quite sure what an admiral (or even an emperor) was, it sounded impressive anyway. Then it occurred to him to ask, “Are you French?”
“Oui,” Francis said and grinned. “Yes.”
“Okay,” Arthur said nonchalantly, because it didn't matter.
Only years later would Francis become the reason why Arthur so fiercely hated and so unconditionally loved the French - or, to be precise, that one particular Frenchman. But that time was yet way ahead in the future, and what mattered now was only the present moment and the incipient friendship between the two young boys, brought together by a lucky twist of fate.
X
Author: marinoa
Characters/pairing: France, England, chibi!FrUK, sort of.
Rating: K
Summary: Tell a small one not to do something and the very next moment find them doing exactly the forbidden thing. But sometimes, perhaps, the consequences might not be so bad after all. AU, kittens.
Misfortune Always Includes Fortune
“No matter what, Horatio, never climb trees!”
Horatio trained his huge, green eyes up on Napoléon's blue ones, curious. “Why?”
Napoléon jumped gracefully down from a big rock and found his place comfortably beside Horatio, laying down and curling up around him, making the smaller kitten lay down too. There was nothing Napoléon loved more than cuddling with his favourite friend. Even cuddling with his human couldn't beat that.
A large, furry tail wrapped around Horatio, and the kitten tried to catch the tip of it with his small paw. Eventually he succeeded and trapped the tip of Napoléon's tail under his paws, giving the long, white fur a few licks out of instinct. He would never admit it to the older kitten, but there was nothing more Horatio admired more than Napoléon's gorgeous fur. Nothing was as fun as playing with that fur, not even playing with his human's eyebrows.
“Why shouldn't I ever climb a tree?” Horatio repeated his question as Napoléon started licking him affectionately behind his ear.
“Why? I'll tell you.” Napoléon stopped licking, but Horatio continued purring nonetheless. “It's a horrible trap; you can easily get up there, but it's impossible to come back down. You might get stuck there for ever... and starve!”
Horatio gasped in awe. Napoléon nodded seriously. “Yes, I've heard of cats that had starved up there, because there was no one to save them and they couldn't get down. And I've seen myself how one kitten, after realising he couldn't climb down, decided to jump.”
“Jump? From a tree?”
“As I told you! I saw it myself. It was when we had snow, do you remember that white thing? The kitten said he wouldn't get hurt because snow was soft, and jumped. But still he broke a bone. He was lucky his human found him, otherwise he would have frozen!”
Such horror stories sent shivers up Horatio's tail and he buried his pink nose in Napoléon's fur and decided that tree climbing wasn't his cup of milk. That was, before the older kitten said the following: “Though, fortunately, you are so small that you probably even couldn't climb a tree yet.”
What? Horatio's tip of tail twitched just slightly. Was Napoléon mocking him? He wasn't a weakling any more! Of course he could climb a tree if he wanted, even though he wasn't a big cat yet!
“I have to go now,” Napoléon said and got up. “It's the time my human gives me food. I'll be right back!”
I'll show him, Horatio though as he watched the older kitten's retreating tail. I'll show him, and then he will know that I'm as strong as him, and even stronger!
xXx
Arthur shifted worriedly and glanced at the clock (not that he could read the thing, but he knew adults always looked at time when they were waiting for something). Despite his inability to understand what sense there was in watching at sticks going round and round without a particular aim, he knew that he hadn't seen Horatio since morning, and it was unusual for the kitten not to be around at lunch time.
“Stop worrying, he's a cat and can take care of himself. He's probably just napping somewhere with that white cat we've seen him with a couple of times,” Arthur's mother said reassuringly, but the boy didn't believe her, and immediately on emptying his plate, he run out to look for his kitten.
After wandering around on streets in hopes of finding his precious pet for half an hour, Arthur was on the verge of tears. “Where are you, Horatio?” he whispered quietly, almost sobbing, eyes blurring from yet unshod tears. “Where are you, where are you, where are you, please be fine, please come home...”
There was yet one place Arthur could look from without disobeying his parents' rules about the area he was allowed to walk alone in, and that place was an old park. Barely even seeing anything due to his blurred vision, the boy entered the park and quietly called for his kitten, “Horatio... Horatio!”
And then it caught his ear - a small, familiar meow somewhere not too far.
“Horatio!” Arthur cried in wild joy and wiped his eyes to see better. He ran towards the meowing sound, but couldn't see his pet anywhere. Puzzled, he stopped and looked around; he was positive the meows had originated close there.
“Meow!” A high, small sound made Arthur look up.
“Horatio!”
The poor kitten was high on a branch of a tree, frantically digging all his nails into the wood, eyes wide and scared. “Meow!” he cried, all rigid with fear. “Meow!”
“Horatio!” Tears were back in Arthur's eyes, and this time they ran freely down his round cheeks. Despair got to the small boy; Horatio was so high - how had he even got up there? - and Arthur himself was still too small to reach even the first branch of the tree, even if he jumped - he had tried and failed, only managing to get scratches on his hands.
“Meow!” Arthur looked down, seeing a white cat, also yet a kitten, at his feet. The cat was meowing and looking at Horatio, as if speaking to him, and then stared at Arthur with his blue eyes. Vaguely realising that it was the cat that they had sometimes seen with Horatio, Arthur could only cry more; it was so frustrating to be so small, he couldn't even help his own kitten, his cute poor kitten that was now stuck up in a tree, unable to come down, and Arthur could do nothing about it. He hated himself for it, and even the white cat seemed to hate him, because it ran off with a few meows.
Between his desperate sobs Arthur considered running back home and getting his dad to help him, but he couldn't just leave Horatio up in the tree alone, especially when he was meowing so helplessly that it made Arthur's heart clench. What if he fell while Arthur wasn't there? No, the boy just couldn't leave him, he couldn't, but he couldn't help him either, and so he stood there under the tree and cried.
“Quel est-il, Napoléon? ...Huh? What is wrong?”
It took Arthur a moment to realise that there was somebody speaking to him, and he started as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What is wrong?” someone asked him (a bit funnily) again, and Arthur turned around to see another boy, perhaps slightly older than him, standing by his side with a concerned look on his face. “Are you hurt?”
Arthur couldn't answer, so he only shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands in shame for being caught crying and yet unable to stop.
The other boy knelt before him and prised his hands from his face. “Tell me,” he coaxed. “Where does it hurt?”
“No,” Arthur managed to sob, hiccups tearing his small chest. “M-my kit- k-kitten..” He pointed up at the tree, where the terrified creature held onto the branch like a drowning man.
“Oh,” the older boy said, looking from the crying boy to the meowing kitten. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, but then knelt before Arthur again and looked him in the eyes. “I'll get your kitten,” he said softly. “I'll get him, so please stop crying, d'accord?”
Arthur merely nodded and did his best to stop the tears and hiccups. He watched as the the older boy managed to reach the first branch and heave himself on it, then proceed higher. Holding his breath Arthur followed with his eyes the other boy's way up where poor Horatio was, and watched him reach with his hand to touch the kitten.
Unfortunately Horatio was panicking too much to realise that the other boy was there to help him. He detached one of his paws so quickly that neither Arthur nor the other boy could see it whiz in the air.
“Aïe!”
Arthur's heart skipped a beat and for a terrifying second he thought the boy would fall from the tree, but fortunately his firm grip on the branch didn't loosen.
“Horatio, he's helping you!” Arthur shouted up to calm down his kitten. “He won't hurt you!”
“Meow!” the white cat that had returned with the boy said, and at that, Horatio seemed to calm down enough to let the older boy take him in his hands and bring safely down on the ground and in Arthur's open arms.
“Horatio!” Arthur sobbed as he hugged his still trembling pet. “Silly, silly kitty, why did you climb up there, don't do that, ever again...”
The other boy stood there, his white cat at his feet, both watching intently at Arthur petting his kitten. Suddenly Arthur became aware of the stares and remembered good manners. “Um,” he said shyly and glanced at the older boy. “Thank you...”
The boy smiled brightly and came closer. He reached with his hand - the one with thin red scratches on it - and brushed the remnants of tears away from Arthur's face. “No problem,” he said gently.
An awkward silence followed his words, as neither of the boys did quite know what to say, until the other boy spoke again. “I'm Francis,” he said. “What's your name?”
“Arthur,” Arthur said and blushed a little when Francis smiled at him widely and his blue eyes twinkled. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.”
“Um,” Arthur said again, but that was when Horatio started wiggling in his arms and he crouched to put the cat down on the grass. The white kitten was immediately by the smaller one's side and reached with his paw, as if smacking Horatio on the head. Before Arthur could scold him for it, the white cat licked the spot he had hit and the two kittens curled up together, tightly as if they were one, both purring loudly.
Francis laughed and crouched beside Arthur. “Aren't they,” he paused and frowned a bit. “How do you say it? Mignon.” Then his face lit up. “Ah, cute!” He grinned at Arthur and tried again. “Aren't they so cute together?”
Arthur couldn't deny that, and smiled, too. “I think they are friends. I've seen Horatio playing with your kitten.” Then he asked, almost shyly, “What is your cat's name?”
“Napoléon,” Francis said proudly. “Napoléon was a great French emperor.”
Arthur refused to be left behind in the matter. “Oh yeah, well Horatio was a great English admiral!” And even though Arthur wasn't quite sure what an admiral (or even an emperor) was, it sounded impressive anyway. Then it occurred to him to ask, “Are you French?”
“Oui,” Francis said and grinned. “Yes.”
“Okay,” Arthur said nonchalantly, because it didn't matter.
Only years later would Francis become the reason why Arthur so fiercely hated and so unconditionally loved the French - or, to be precise, that one particular Frenchman. But that time was yet way ahead in the future, and what mattered now was only the present moment and the incipient friendship between the two young boys, brought together by a lucky twist of fate.
X