by Ana Lyssie Cotton
Disclaimer: Mitai made me do it. Marvel owns Stryfe, more's the pity. No one owns Her.
Dedication: To Diamonde and AliciaMc.
Thanks go to Sparks for snickering at me. And giggling.
It meowed at him. Stryfe glared at it and turned away, striding down the hall. It followed, though, meowing. As if it expected him to do something. Like actually feed it.
He snorted and gave a shake of his blond head. As if. He gave a swish of his shiny cape and yelped as the little furball pounced it.
It gave him an injured look when he jerked the cape, sending it tumbling to the floor.
"No. Go away."
"Meow." The kitten gave another sound, almost a mini-growl, and pounced his boot, batting at the tassel and then freezing at its own reflection in the mirrored shine.
"Get off me." But he didn't kick the kitten away. Instead he shook his foot, sending it--her, he realised--tumbling to the floor again.
She lay on her back and waved all four paws at him, looking adorable. "Peep."
With a curse, he strode away from her, intending to head for his quarters. Silent kitten-pads followed him, scampering into his room before he could close the door in time. She skittered on his slick floor and ended up knocking over the helmet-stand. The sound sent her running to hide under his bed.
He sighed. Well, it was her own damned fault. He pulled off his gloves, dropping them on the small endtable by his couch, and shed his boots. It was night, time to sleep.
Quickly shedding most of his armor, he set it up on the stands so it was easily accessable, in case of emergencies, and then slid into the bed, pulling the sheet up to his chest.
It was then that he remembered his helmet was still on the floor, along with the stand. With a curse, he rolled over and dropped his legs off the bed. Something with huge teeth and claws attacked his ankle.
Pulling up the wounded limb, he glared down at the little pinpoints that were sure to be the kitten. "That. Hurt." He grated out.
"Don't 'meow' me, you little twit." He glared, careful to keep his legs and ankles out of her range.
There was a sudden loss of kitten-eyes, and then a thump. The sheet began slipping over the side of the bed. He grabbed it and blinked, feeling the tension on it. Staring at the side of the bed, he spotted kitten-eyes again. And they were much, much closer.
"Don't you dare climb up on this bed, you little menace!"
She didn't listen, and continued cresting the mountain that was his bed. Which meant that, a moment later, she was inspecting him and finding ther perfect spot to curl up and purr at him.
And purr she did, a deep, rumbling thing that sounded like it should rattle windows. Stryfe growled and picked her up from her position in his lap, and dropped her over the side of the bed again. "And, stay there!"
Deciding not to risk another ankle-slashing, he made sure there were no trailing bits of sheet over the side and laid down again, prepared to sleep.
He ignored the first meow. And the second. And the third. By the sixth, he was turning on his side, back to the kitten. By the tenth, he'd lost count and decided to pull the pillow over his head.
After half-suffocating, he growled and turned over to glare down at the kitten-eyes. "Shut. Up."
"You are a cat. You belong on the floor. I'm am human. I belong on the bed. Now, go sleep, somewhere." He waved a hand at her and turned back away to curl up.
Silence, for a time.
"Look, you damned little kitten, I have to sleep. I am of the Strong, and, dammit, I have a battle to conduct in the morning. I. Need. Sleep. Now, shut up!"
Stryfe pulled the pillow over his head again.
"Meow." The voice was closer, this time.
He frowned and opened one eye. Kitten-eyes stared back at him. "Meow."
"How did you get up here?"
Her answer was to burrow under the sheet and curl up next to his chest, purring. "Get out of there, you harlot!"
Reaching under the blanket, he scooped her up again--ignoring the soft kitten fur, and the purring--and rolled, to dump her back off the bed. "And stay there."
Stryfe settled back down under his sheet and endeavoured to tune out the kitten's cries. He succeeded.
Until she pounced on his chest and proceeded to turn it into her bed.
Opening one eye, he glared at her.
She ignored him.
Deciding he wasn't going to stand--lie down, actually--for this anymore, he reached for her, sitting up as he did so. She mrphed at him and dug in claws that pricked his skin.
Gritting his teeth, he pried her off and strode to the door. Opening it, he tossed her out into the hall, "Stupid little brat."
Satisfied, he turned, slamming the door behind him with extra force. Force that caused it to not close completely.
With a growl, he re-plumped his pillows and lay back down. Ten minutes later, he was asleep.
Five minutes after that, a tiny, fluffy warm kitten curled back up on his chest, yawning in triumph.
on to To Name a Nuisance
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