I may pride myself on my organization and planning ahead, but I’ll be honest – if you’d told me a month ago that I would not only take in a hobo off the streets of Norbrook, but that in a matter of weeks we’d be in a physical relationship, I’d have called you crazy and laughed it off. And yet, in a scene to defy all expectations, here I found myself in the deafeningly silent hours of just past midnight, tangled up in white linen bedsheets next to the person now sharing my apartment.

Well, they were deafeningly silent for now, anyways.

“You,” Paige said, “are one noisy motherfucker.”

I laughed softly, curling my long striped tail up around my legs as I rolled over onto my side to face her. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to apologize for, just sayin’.” Her profile caught what little light managed to sneak into the room, and my feline eyes were able to make out the long slope of her muzzle, the pointed ears, the wild strands of hair that even in the near pitch-black room kept a tint of their fiery red coloring. She was on her back, her head resting on her arms that were folded against the backboard, the sheets kicked off down to her white paws. Even laying in the dark where she could not be seen, she still posed with an easy confidence – that “Yeah, this is me – got a problem?” attitude that I, for whatever reason, found so intriguing.

Then there was me, tucking the sheets up to my chest for no reason as I lay to her left, head half falling off the pillow. We’d just spent the night doing things that would make my mother’s eyes bleed and I still felt the need to cover my breasts. Audrey Ortega, pleased to meet you. “The neighbors probably hate me now.”

I could see her silhouette move to a slight grin. “Nah. You kiddin’? They’re getting a free show.” She crossed her legs at the knee, a paw bobbing in the air. “We should charge ‘em. This is high-quality shit.”

I laughed, a hand on my face. Crude as she was, I admit that just the fact that we were at a point where we were not guarded was an accomplishment. For the longest time, even as I tried to help her, starving on the streets, Paige still managed to glare at me with the most intimidating scowl – what’s the phrase in English? Shooting daggers? It certainly felt like I was being threatened with a knife, anyway. It took me a long time – a long time – before she could look at me without the need to have a defensive retort to everything I said, to be able to respond and not challenge my authority. She still did, of course. She wouldn’t be Paige if she didn’t. But it was slightly less than before, and that was progress. The hour of sex had helped mellow her out, if nothing else.

I wormed my way a few centimeters closer, seeking out a warm body to curl up next to. Like clockwork, as I inched closer I felt her stiffen and lean away slightly. I rolled back. Alright, so we weren’t at the cuddling stage yet. I could work on that next. As I lay still she subtlety exhaled and resumed tapping her toes in mid-air. I wasn’t even aware if she realized she’d stopped.

My ears flicked at the sound of a soft scratch from the hallway, something brushing up against the bedroom door. There was a slightly impatient huff, like a short exhale. “You need to feed your cat,” I mumbled.

That smarmy grin again. “I’ve been doing that for the last hour, wait a sec.”

“Your other cat.”

“Oh.” Then the realization. “Oh!” The mattress sank and rose again as she hopped off, claws clicking on the hardwood floor. The door creaked open and I squinted against the bright hallway light as her silhouette squeezed out, speaking hushed words to the pacing panther that was waiting outside. Her pet. Batman, she’d named him. I didn’t understand the name, but she’d just smirked when I asked. Like it was a stupid question. He looked nothing like a bat.

My head plopped back down onto the pillow and I closed my eyes, my feet laying in her warm spot on the bed. There was the clicking and thumping of drawers being opened, the plastic ring of the bowl hitting the counter. The hollow pelting of kibble in a dish. The fridge door opening. Cellophane. Knives.

Wait. What?

I stood up and peered around the door, squinting in the new light of the kitchen and not entirely sure what I was expecting to find. I could see Batman sitting at the end of the hallway, staring up out of my line of vision like an antsy dog. The sound of knives was still going, and as I walked to the end of the hallway I heard the beep of the electric stove turning on.

I folded my arms. “Why are you making bacon?”

Paige didn’t look up, just kept prodding the little slices of meat as they began to sizzle. “Batman’s hungry.”

The bowl full of kibble sat brimming full on the other end of the counter. “He has food.”

“It’s shit.”

“You bought it.” No response, just poked at the sizzling bacon while the cat licked his chops. I’d just bought that bacon. Was planning to try a rice dish with it. And now it was cat food. Well, panther food. Not Pampas Cat food, is the main point. I sighed and rubbed my face. “I hope the fat burns your dick.”

“What?” Her head snapped up as a drop of grease splattered from the pan and went flying past her. I had already turned around and moved over to the couch, flopping down and leaning against an arm. I would have liked to go to sleep, honestly, but I didn’t trust Paige in my kitchen unsupervised. I’d turn around and she’d be making filet mignon, no doubt.

There were a few more minutes of sizzling and flipping before I heard the scraping of a pan and the slobbery chewing sounds of Batman. A clatter of dishes in the sink and then Paige had leaned up behind the couch, sitting on the back of it like I’d asked her not to and using her toes to kick the remote over. The volume was up too high and when she turned my widescreen on it was being kicked in the face with a commercial. The hyena flipped around for a few moments until she landed on some Asian game show that involved it’s contestants being shot at with paintballs. That held her attention for a while as I curled up into my corner of the couch, eyelids threatening to shut.

When I opened them again the television was playing an infomercial for a juicer and Paige was leaning to one side, her red eyes half-closed as she blinked slower than I would have thought possible. Her panther pet was sprawled out next to her, snoozing like for all the world he belonged there. I turned my head stiffly towards the screen; the cable box informed me in bright red text that it was after three in the morning. “We should go to bed,” I mumbled.

She sniffed suddenly, like her mind had been about to go idle. For a minute I wasn’t sure if my words had even registered, and I started to stand up, moving from the comfortable area I’d warmed. “You workin’?” Her voice sounded tired.

“Nah,” I sat back down again, wrapping my tail around my legs. “Not on Sunday. That’s my day off. Church and things.” I trailed off; my head tilted back to the ceiling. My eyes shifted over to look at Paige, a bit of curiosity nudging at my brain. “Do you believing – do you believe in God?”

She moved her jaw slightly, like she was chewing on her tongue. “No.”

“Oh.” The infomercial started to repeat itself, flashing phone numbers across the screen. “What about Heaven?”

She was quiet for a long while. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about her, it’s that chasing a topic will get you nowhere with her. I shouldn’t have asked, anyway. Personal question. Americans always seemed to get so uptight about it.

“Yeah.”

I’d forgotten I’d asked a question for a second, and blinked in surprise. “Hell too?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” I couldn’t help myself. I would have thought that Paige, cynical, sarcastic, defensive Paige, would be the last person to believe in spirituality.

She stayed silent, staring straight ahead at the looping video on the tv screen, and I could tell that I wasn’t getting an answer. Not tonight, anyway. But I could probably hazard a guess. What she did and where she went before I met her was a mystery to me, but in my experience, the people who believe in Hell are the ones who’ve managed to catch a glimpse of it.

There was an awkward silence where neither of us moved except for the twitching paws of Batman, before she suddenly jerked the remote up and powered off the television, jumping up and walking past me to the bedroom, yanking at my ears on the way. “These sins ain’t gonna commit themselves, you know.”

I laughed, and followed her path. It wasn’t the most eloquent way to end a conversation, but I didn’t mind. This was the most personal information I’d managed to wheedle out of her since… well, ever. She deserved a reward. Maybe this time she’d let me cuddle.

---

I occasionally get the odd writing muse and tend to blow it off in short 3-5 page stories like this, which I refer to as blurbs. My yenaface told me to post this one so. There you go.

I'm an extremely amateur writer so quality isn't fantastic. Oopsie poopsie.

Audrey belongs to  kaylink, and Paige belongs to  avyris ofc.