fic: Frisky Little Thing
Title: Frisky Little Thing
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Word Count: approx. 2,100
Summary: In which Arthur competes with his cat for Eames' attention.
A/N: an AU written for this prompt at the inception_kink meme like three months ago when I had not yet acquired a livejournal account. like all my fics, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
So Arthur has this cat. Her name is Frisky and Arthur loves her.
He adopted Frisky with his ex-girlfriend, Marina, a few years back, when they used to live together, before Marina threw a fit and screamed about how she couldn’t stand this anymore, how she couldn’t stand Arthur anymore, because he was a psycho control freak and she was suffocating and she needed to get away, and then she’d stormed out in a huff. She came back a few days later for her things.
Arthur kept Frisky, and he loves her very much. Looking back, he can’t exactly say the same about Marina.
---
Arthur has a routine he tends to go through nearly every day. He likes it and it works for him and maybe that’s part of what annoyed Marina so much but Arthur doesn’t really care because if he’s honest with himself, he’s better off without her anyways.
Arthur usually gets up somewhere between seven and seven-thirty, doesn’t need an alarm clock because he wakes up at more or less the same time every day. He goes to feed Frisky because she’s nudging his hand insistently, meowing at him.
He eats his breakfast (sunny side up egg on toast) and drinks his coffee (black) and reads the newspaper, and usually Frisky comes to join him partway through breakfast and he smiles at her like he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself without her.
Arthur goes to work and when he comes home, he makes himself dinner and rants to Frisky about whatever nonsense he’s had to put up with through the day and she listens with wide, curious eyes, her tail swishing back and forth slowly as he talks.
Most of the time, Arthur will settle down on the couch in the living room to watch some TV with Frisky curled up on his lap, purring contently as he scratches her behind her ears. Arthur has this habit of making a running commentary of whatever show he’s watching, and it bothers most people, but Frisky doesn’t mind as Arthur mutters to her about what idiots the characters on the show are.
Arthur falls asleep with Frisky snoozing soundly on the pillow next to him, and sometimes, he thinks it’s possibly a little sad, that he has no one really but a cat to keep him company, but most times he doesn’t really care because he’s feels comfortable and warm and content like this.
He very much enjoys his routine.
---
The thing about Arthur is that he doesn’t really know how to function if his precious routine has been disrupted. So okay, maybe yes he’s a little bit of a control freak just like Marina had shouted at him, but that’s possibly the last thing on his mind when he comes home one day and can’t find Frisky anywhere.
At first, he’s not too concerned and goes to fix himself some dinner, because Frisky is an outdoor cat, she sneaks out on Arthur’s balcony and often hops over to neighboring windowsills or patios to go pay his neighbors a visit but she always, always finds her way home. So he’s not too worried as he eats his dinner and washes the dishes afterwards and sinks down on his couch to watch some mindless TV, but as it starts to get later and later, he gets a little anxious. What if something happened to her?
Eventually, his worries gets the best of him and he goes to slip on his shoes and opens his door to head out and ask his neighbors if they’ve seen her, and he almost gives a little start of surprise when he comes face to face with a man he’s never seen before holding Frisky in his arms.
Frisky meows at Arthur and the unfamiliar man smiles. He’s got broad shoulders and short, dark blonde hair, and these piercing blue, blue eyes that pinch a little at the corners when he grins, and Arthur finds himself feeling a little bit breathless in the wake of it all.
“Ah, hello,” the man says, and Arthur picks up on a distinct London accent. He absently wonders why someone from such an exciting city would choose to live here, to the middle of nowhere. The man gestures to Frisky, “She’s yours, right?”
“I- uh- yeah, she is,” Arthur says, wincing inwardly a little at how utterly lame he sounds. What a great way to make a good first impression, huh? Thankfully, the man takes no notice and hands Frisky back to Arthur without commenting on said lameness.
“Lovely girl, she is,” the man says conversationally. “Been hanging around my apartment quite a lot lately.”
Arthur nods, because he doesn’t know how else to respond. The man grins and holds his hand out to Arthur.
“I’m Eames, by the way,” he says casually. “Just moved in not too long ago.”
Arthur smiles politely back and shakes his hand. “Arthur,” he offers as an introduction. “Thanks for bringing her back.”
Eames waves that off. “It’s no trouble, really,” he says. He smiles a smile that leaves Arthur feeling a little dazed and says, “Well, goodnight, then. It was nice meeting you.”
“Yeah,” Arthur hears himself saying, but it’s like he’s listening to himself through a thick fog. “You too.”
Eames waves goodbye to Arthur and disappears back into his own apartment, one door down from Arthur’s. Arthur remains standing in the hallway for a moment or two after that, staring at the door, wondering how he could have missed the fact that he has a new neighbor, and a neighbor like this, no less. Arthur shifts his gaze to Frisky.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he asks the cat, who gazes innocently back at him. “You think I spend too much time working too, just like mom, and now you’re trying to set me up with some guy, aren’t you?”
Frisky just mews softly and Arthur sighs and goes back into his apartment to get some sleep, Frisky curled up at his side, as always.
---
It turns into something of a regular thing, without Arthur’s even realizing it. Each day when he gets home these days, Frisky isn’t there. The first couple times, he’s bewildered as he was the first time it happened, but after the third or fourth time Eames comes over to bring Frisky back home, Arthur has a sudden moment of realization.
“You like him?” Arthur asks Frisky accusingly.
Frisky blinks. Arthur sighs and throws his hands up in defeat.
“Figures,” he mumbles. Of course this would happen, he thinks to himself as Frisky cleans her paws; an attractive guy moves in next door and his competition is his own cat. Of course this would happen, because life likes to do this to Arthur, likes to tease him and taunt him in this way.
“You know what?” Arthur says to the cat, determination set in his voice. He waves a threatening finger at her. “You’re not going to win this one. I promise.”
Frisky stares at him for a moment before going back to licking her paws and Arthur nods once, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Challenge accepted, then.
---
The next day, when Arthur gets home and Frisky’s not there, he goes right over to the next apartment and knocks on the door. A moment later, the door opens and Eames greets him with a warm smile and a friendly hello.
“Can I help you?” Eames asks, and the way he says it gives off the impression that he already knows why Arthur is here.
Arthur tries to ignore the drumming of his pulse under his skin.
“I’ve come to get my cat,” he says in a carefully controlled voice, trying not to let the nerves show.
Eames smiles knowingly in a way that’s a little unnerving. Arthur forces himself to maintain eye contact.
“Of course you have,” Eames says. “In that case, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
He disappears inside his apartment for a minute, leaving the door open so that Arthur can peek in and see that it’s complete chaos in there, books and paintings and useless knickknacks everywhere, and then Eames is back, Frisky purring contently in his arms. He hands Frisky over to Arthur and then leans against the doorframe.
“You just let her run around like that?” Eames asks. “Won’t she get lost?”
Arthur shrugs. “She likes to go out, and she always finds her way back,” he says. “And besides, she gets restless and lonely sometimes.”
Eames raises his eyebrows and a smirk pulls at his ridiculous lips. Arthur has to force himself not to stare.
“Like you?” Eames asks.
Arthur blinks, a little taken aback. Is he that easy to read, he thinks to himself and fights the blush that’s fighting its way to his cheeks, trying for a scowl to cover it up. Eames laughs.
“Goodnight, Arthur,” Eames says, grinning.
Eames pats Frisky on the head and gives Arthur this kind of breathtaking smile before going back into his apartment and Arthur feels his cheeks heat up. He hates himself a little for that because he doesn’t blush, not ever, it’s just not what he does, but here he is, all flustered as if he’s in high school all over again.
---
Arthur kind of falls into the habit of going over to Eames’ to pick up after he comes home from work. He doesn’t like to admit it to himself, but it’s become something he’s grown to look forward to, especially at the end of a shitty day; it’s something that always brightens his day a little because Eames is easygoing and cheerful and flirty and it makes Arthur feel a little special, like he’s the only one who gets this sort of treatment from Eames.
Deep down, he knows that’s probably not the case.
---
Arthur gets home late one Thursday night because he was in a meeting and his boss was being irritating and keeping everyone back, and Arthur kind of just wants to sleep for the next five years. Except there’s one problem. Frisky isn’t there. She’s at Eames’, as always, and Arthur can’t sleep unless he knows Frisky is safely home.
Arthur sighs and goes over next door to pick her up, not really feeling all that up to chatting with Eames today - and that’s saying a lot. Arthur’s always up for chatting with Eames, but not today, because today Arthur’s just absolutely exhausted and he doesn’t even care about eating dinner, he just wants to sleep.
Arthur knocks on Eames’ door and gets no response. He thinks foolishly for a moment that Eames isn’t home, but he hears Eames inside making quite a racket, so he knocks again.
“It’s open,” Eames calls out.
Arthur hesitates for a moment but decides to go in anyways. The apartment is messy - it seems to get messier each time Arthur goes to pick Frisky up - and Eames is in the kitchen cooking something that smells absolutely delicious. He’s humming to himself as he cooks and Frisky is sitting on the kitchen counter watching him with fascinated eyes. Eames looks over his shoulder when he hears Arthur approaching, and he grins.
“Ah, it’s you,” he greets. “I was wondering when you’d be over.”
“Yeah, I got caught up at work,” Arthur says. “Sorry it’s kind of late.”
Eames smiles easily and shuts off the stove. “It’s quite alright, darling,” he says, and Arthur feels his cheeks heating up at the endearment. Eames pets Frisky absently and then he turns to Arthur again and asks, “Have you had dinner yet?”
Arthur hesitates again. “No,” he finally says.
Eames’ eyes twinkle a little. “Would you like some dinner?” he asks.
Arthur thinks about it for a moment. He feels a lot less sleepy than he did when he first arrived home.
“Sure,” he agrees. “That sounds nice.”
“Brilliant,” Eames winks at Arthur, and Arthur feels a little thrum race along the surface of his skin.
They end up talking and laughing about nearly everything over dinner and a bottle of wine, and Arthur forgets why he was so angry with the world in the first place. Instead, Arthur feels relaxed and comfortable and really happy for the first time in too long. Before Arthur leaves, Eames makes Arthur promise to come over for dinner again the next day, and Arthur feels a little giddy.
When Arthur returns home to his apartment that night with Frisky in his arms, he says to her victoriously, “I win.”
Frisky meows loudly and hops out of his arms. She ends up ignoring him for the next three days, but it’s definitely worth it.
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Word Count: approx. 2,100
Summary: In which Arthur competes with his cat for Eames' attention.
A/N: an AU written for this prompt at the inception_kink meme like three months ago when I had not yet acquired a livejournal account. like all my fics, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.
So Arthur has this cat. Her name is Frisky and Arthur loves her.
He adopted Frisky with his ex-girlfriend, Marina, a few years back, when they used to live together, before Marina threw a fit and screamed about how she couldn’t stand this anymore, how she couldn’t stand Arthur anymore, because he was a psycho control freak and she was suffocating and she needed to get away, and then she’d stormed out in a huff. She came back a few days later for her things.
Arthur kept Frisky, and he loves her very much. Looking back, he can’t exactly say the same about Marina.
---
Arthur has a routine he tends to go through nearly every day. He likes it and it works for him and maybe that’s part of what annoyed Marina so much but Arthur doesn’t really care because if he’s honest with himself, he’s better off without her anyways.
Arthur usually gets up somewhere between seven and seven-thirty, doesn’t need an alarm clock because he wakes up at more or less the same time every day. He goes to feed Frisky because she’s nudging his hand insistently, meowing at him.
He eats his breakfast (sunny side up egg on toast) and drinks his coffee (black) and reads the newspaper, and usually Frisky comes to join him partway through breakfast and he smiles at her like he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself without her.
Arthur goes to work and when he comes home, he makes himself dinner and rants to Frisky about whatever nonsense he’s had to put up with through the day and she listens with wide, curious eyes, her tail swishing back and forth slowly as he talks.
Most of the time, Arthur will settle down on the couch in the living room to watch some TV with Frisky curled up on his lap, purring contently as he scratches her behind her ears. Arthur has this habit of making a running commentary of whatever show he’s watching, and it bothers most people, but Frisky doesn’t mind as Arthur mutters to her about what idiots the characters on the show are.
Arthur falls asleep with Frisky snoozing soundly on the pillow next to him, and sometimes, he thinks it’s possibly a little sad, that he has no one really but a cat to keep him company, but most times he doesn’t really care because he’s feels comfortable and warm and content like this.
He very much enjoys his routine.
---
The thing about Arthur is that he doesn’t really know how to function if his precious routine has been disrupted. So okay, maybe yes he’s a little bit of a control freak just like Marina had shouted at him, but that’s possibly the last thing on his mind when he comes home one day and can’t find Frisky anywhere.
At first, he’s not too concerned and goes to fix himself some dinner, because Frisky is an outdoor cat, she sneaks out on Arthur’s balcony and often hops over to neighboring windowsills or patios to go pay his neighbors a visit but she always, always finds her way home. So he’s not too worried as he eats his dinner and washes the dishes afterwards and sinks down on his couch to watch some mindless TV, but as it starts to get later and later, he gets a little anxious. What if something happened to her?
Eventually, his worries gets the best of him and he goes to slip on his shoes and opens his door to head out and ask his neighbors if they’ve seen her, and he almost gives a little start of surprise when he comes face to face with a man he’s never seen before holding Frisky in his arms.
Frisky meows at Arthur and the unfamiliar man smiles. He’s got broad shoulders and short, dark blonde hair, and these piercing blue, blue eyes that pinch a little at the corners when he grins, and Arthur finds himself feeling a little bit breathless in the wake of it all.
“Ah, hello,” the man says, and Arthur picks up on a distinct London accent. He absently wonders why someone from such an exciting city would choose to live here, to the middle of nowhere. The man gestures to Frisky, “She’s yours, right?”
“I- uh- yeah, she is,” Arthur says, wincing inwardly a little at how utterly lame he sounds. What a great way to make a good first impression, huh? Thankfully, the man takes no notice and hands Frisky back to Arthur without commenting on said lameness.
“Lovely girl, she is,” the man says conversationally. “Been hanging around my apartment quite a lot lately.”
Arthur nods, because he doesn’t know how else to respond. The man grins and holds his hand out to Arthur.
“I’m Eames, by the way,” he says casually. “Just moved in not too long ago.”
Arthur smiles politely back and shakes his hand. “Arthur,” he offers as an introduction. “Thanks for bringing her back.”
Eames waves that off. “It’s no trouble, really,” he says. He smiles a smile that leaves Arthur feeling a little dazed and says, “Well, goodnight, then. It was nice meeting you.”
“Yeah,” Arthur hears himself saying, but it’s like he’s listening to himself through a thick fog. “You too.”
Eames waves goodbye to Arthur and disappears back into his own apartment, one door down from Arthur’s. Arthur remains standing in the hallway for a moment or two after that, staring at the door, wondering how he could have missed the fact that he has a new neighbor, and a neighbor like this, no less. Arthur shifts his gaze to Frisky.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he asks the cat, who gazes innocently back at him. “You think I spend too much time working too, just like mom, and now you’re trying to set me up with some guy, aren’t you?”
Frisky just mews softly and Arthur sighs and goes back into his apartment to get some sleep, Frisky curled up at his side, as always.
---
It turns into something of a regular thing, without Arthur’s even realizing it. Each day when he gets home these days, Frisky isn’t there. The first couple times, he’s bewildered as he was the first time it happened, but after the third or fourth time Eames comes over to bring Frisky back home, Arthur has a sudden moment of realization.
“You like him?” Arthur asks Frisky accusingly.
Frisky blinks. Arthur sighs and throws his hands up in defeat.
“Figures,” he mumbles. Of course this would happen, he thinks to himself as Frisky cleans her paws; an attractive guy moves in next door and his competition is his own cat. Of course this would happen, because life likes to do this to Arthur, likes to tease him and taunt him in this way.
“You know what?” Arthur says to the cat, determination set in his voice. He waves a threatening finger at her. “You’re not going to win this one. I promise.”
Frisky stares at him for a moment before going back to licking her paws and Arthur nods once, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Challenge accepted, then.
---
The next day, when Arthur gets home and Frisky’s not there, he goes right over to the next apartment and knocks on the door. A moment later, the door opens and Eames greets him with a warm smile and a friendly hello.
“Can I help you?” Eames asks, and the way he says it gives off the impression that he already knows why Arthur is here.
Arthur tries to ignore the drumming of his pulse under his skin.
“I’ve come to get my cat,” he says in a carefully controlled voice, trying not to let the nerves show.
Eames smiles knowingly in a way that’s a little unnerving. Arthur forces himself to maintain eye contact.
“Of course you have,” Eames says. “In that case, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
He disappears inside his apartment for a minute, leaving the door open so that Arthur can peek in and see that it’s complete chaos in there, books and paintings and useless knickknacks everywhere, and then Eames is back, Frisky purring contently in his arms. He hands Frisky over to Arthur and then leans against the doorframe.
“You just let her run around like that?” Eames asks. “Won’t she get lost?”
Arthur shrugs. “She likes to go out, and she always finds her way back,” he says. “And besides, she gets restless and lonely sometimes.”
Eames raises his eyebrows and a smirk pulls at his ridiculous lips. Arthur has to force himself not to stare.
“Like you?” Eames asks.
Arthur blinks, a little taken aback. Is he that easy to read, he thinks to himself and fights the blush that’s fighting its way to his cheeks, trying for a scowl to cover it up. Eames laughs.
“Goodnight, Arthur,” Eames says, grinning.
Eames pats Frisky on the head and gives Arthur this kind of breathtaking smile before going back into his apartment and Arthur feels his cheeks heat up. He hates himself a little for that because he doesn’t blush, not ever, it’s just not what he does, but here he is, all flustered as if he’s in high school all over again.
---
Arthur kind of falls into the habit of going over to Eames’ to pick up after he comes home from work. He doesn’t like to admit it to himself, but it’s become something he’s grown to look forward to, especially at the end of a shitty day; it’s something that always brightens his day a little because Eames is easygoing and cheerful and flirty and it makes Arthur feel a little special, like he’s the only one who gets this sort of treatment from Eames.
Deep down, he knows that’s probably not the case.
---
Arthur gets home late one Thursday night because he was in a meeting and his boss was being irritating and keeping everyone back, and Arthur kind of just wants to sleep for the next five years. Except there’s one problem. Frisky isn’t there. She’s at Eames’, as always, and Arthur can’t sleep unless he knows Frisky is safely home.
Arthur sighs and goes over next door to pick her up, not really feeling all that up to chatting with Eames today - and that’s saying a lot. Arthur’s always up for chatting with Eames, but not today, because today Arthur’s just absolutely exhausted and he doesn’t even care about eating dinner, he just wants to sleep.
Arthur knocks on Eames’ door and gets no response. He thinks foolishly for a moment that Eames isn’t home, but he hears Eames inside making quite a racket, so he knocks again.
“It’s open,” Eames calls out.
Arthur hesitates for a moment but decides to go in anyways. The apartment is messy - it seems to get messier each time Arthur goes to pick Frisky up - and Eames is in the kitchen cooking something that smells absolutely delicious. He’s humming to himself as he cooks and Frisky is sitting on the kitchen counter watching him with fascinated eyes. Eames looks over his shoulder when he hears Arthur approaching, and he grins.
“Ah, it’s you,” he greets. “I was wondering when you’d be over.”
“Yeah, I got caught up at work,” Arthur says. “Sorry it’s kind of late.”
Eames smiles easily and shuts off the stove. “It’s quite alright, darling,” he says, and Arthur feels his cheeks heating up at the endearment. Eames pets Frisky absently and then he turns to Arthur again and asks, “Have you had dinner yet?”
Arthur hesitates again. “No,” he finally says.
Eames’ eyes twinkle a little. “Would you like some dinner?” he asks.
Arthur thinks about it for a moment. He feels a lot less sleepy than he did when he first arrived home.
“Sure,” he agrees. “That sounds nice.”
“Brilliant,” Eames winks at Arthur, and Arthur feels a little thrum race along the surface of his skin.
They end up talking and laughing about nearly everything over dinner and a bottle of wine, and Arthur forgets why he was so angry with the world in the first place. Instead, Arthur feels relaxed and comfortable and really happy for the first time in too long. Before Arthur leaves, Eames makes Arthur promise to come over for dinner again the next day, and Arthur feels a little giddy.
When Arthur returns home to his apartment that night with Frisky in his arms, he says to her victoriously, “I win.”
Frisky meows loudly and hops out of his arms. She ends up ignoring him for the next three days, but it’s definitely worth it.