Cattus Non Gratus
by Shayney

A story inspired by the "Tom and Harry have a pet" challenge at the PKElite website. Fluff warning!

Date Posted: 25 November 2000

Characters and situations owned by Paramount/Viacom. Used without permission. No copyright infringement intended.

Tom entered the quarters he shared with Harry, careful not to make too much noise. Harry was working night shifts this week, and was likely still sleeping. Yes, there he was, curled on the bed. . . holding a teddy bear??

Amused, Tom moved closer. Sure enough, there was a dark, furry object clutched to Harry's chest. Tom was contemplating fetching a holo-imager to take a picture to blackmail Harry with, when suddenly the "teddy bear" moved, lifting its head and opening glittering eyes.

Tom leapt back with a squawk of surprise. At the noise, Harry, too, opened his eyes. "Oh, hi, Tom," he said drowsily.

Tom pointed at the creature. "There's a hairy alien in your bed!" he managed.

Harry didn't seem alarmed. "It's a cat, Tom." He petted the animal, which purred and closed its eyes again.

It was a cat. A rather large black one. He'd been too shocked to recognize it for a moment. Feeling stupid, Tom asked, "Where'd it come from? And what's it doing in the bed?"

"It's Shere Khan," Harry replied. At Tom's blank look, he explained. "Naomi's cat. The one we gave her for her birthday two years ago?"

Tom remembered. It had been Harry's idea. They'd gotten a cat embryo out of the ship's medical stores, and had the Doc grow it into a kitten. Naomi had loved it. It had been a cute little ball of fluff. Unlike this huge monster.

"But that was a little kitten," Tom protested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "He grew up. Kittens do that, you know."

Pity it was, too. "What's he doing here?" Tom asked suspiciously. He was more of a dog person himself. And in the Paris household, animals were rarely allowed indoors, and certainly not on the beds. His mother would have had a fit.

"Sam and Naomi are on shore leave. I promised them I'd look after Shere Khan while they were gone."

"Can't you look after him in their quarters?"

"He'd be lonely."

Tom was starting to feel pretty lonely himself, watching Harry cuddling and stroking that cat. Crawling onto the bed, he soon got his lover to forget all about Shere Khan.

For awhile, anyway. Tom was lying on top of Harry, kissing him lazily, when suddenly, he felt claws against his butt. He gave a startled yelp.

"What?" Harry asked anxiously.

Tom froze, afraid to move. "That beast is attacking me!"

Harry peered over Tom's shoulder, then collapsed back on the bed, laughing. "He's not attacking you, Tom. He's kneading you with his paws."

"Huh?"

"It's just something cats do. Usually when they find something nice and soft to lie down on."

"Oh." Then he thought about what Harry had said. "Soft??? Why, that -" He tried to turn around to take a swipe at the cat, but Harry's arms locked around him, holding him still.

Tom glared. "That creature is clawing me to death, and you don't care."

"Sam keeps Shere Khan's nails clipped very short. He won't scratch you."

"My butt is not soft," Tom insisted, as Shere Khan stopped kneading and lay down across his rear.

"Of course not," Harry said solemnly. The effect was ruined by the mischievous glint in his eye, and the dimple flashing by the corner of his mouth.

"I'll show you who's soft," Tom muttered, then leaned down to kiss those lush, tempting lips.

Before long, Shere Khan tumbled from his perch. With an annoyed flick of his tail, he stalked off, going in search of a bed that wasn't bouncing quite so much.

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