players: Erik Lensherr, Emma Frost, cat!Charles Xavier, cat!Raven Darkholme
word count: 560
summary: Erik was totally fine having one cat. Two was pushing it.
a/n: I drew a picture after seeing a really nifty cat bed online, and since drawing it, I've had mini-fics of Erik with cats running around in my head.
“You already have a cat, Erik. What's the harm in another?” Emma Frost tucked the kitten against her shoulder. It wriggled to sit up against her cheek, shaking as it sought out a stable footing but purring loudly.
“I told you no over the phone. My answer's not changed.”
“Oh, please. Stop pretending to be such a tough guy. You have a cat toy in your back pocket, for Heaven's sake.” Emma breezed passed him and smiled over her shoulder at the brown tabby cat winding between Erik's feet as he shut the door. “Hello, Charles.” She looked up at Erik through her eyelashes. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't trust you. Little Raven here is a total love, but her fur gets everywhere. It would stand out much less in your darker décor.”
“Charles is used to being the sole cat in my apartment. I don't want him upset,” Erik persisted mildly, resisting the urge to scoop up the tabby who had his forepaws up on his knee, begging for attention.
“Are you sure? You've never had another cat before.”
The kitten—Raven—mewed and claws down Emma's back before she pulled the kitten back to her chest. It fit perfectly in her hand as if it were a teacup on a saucer.
Charles' ears rotated, the rest of his body totally still as he searched for the source of the tiny meow. Standing with all four paws on the carpet, he chirped once and walked in short, frantic steps when he heard the shrill response.
Emma met Erik's gaze, styled eyebrow raised. “Let's just see how they fair.” She crouched and set the kitten on the short carpet.
Raven looked at her curiously, sniffed the carpet, and took a couple cautious, toddling steps to see if she would be held again. When she wasn't, she meowed nervously in the strange new freedom and was almost instantly rewarded with a deep, warm purr and licks to her ears by an unfamiliar adult.
Charles picked the kitten up by her scruff and trotted away.
Erik and Emma exchanged glances—Emma's slyly triumphant and Erik's surprised. Erik set his hands on his hips and whistled a short note.
Charles' ears perked, and he looked at his human, but he continued on his brief journey to the sofa. Gauging the distance with the added weight, he pushed off the ground and set the kitten on his velvety cushion. She squeaked and almost jumped back to the floor, but Charles curled up behind her, pulled her onto her back with a careful paw, and began grooming her face and ears. Within moments, their purrs reached the humans' ears.
Emma beamed at Erik. “Raven is up to date on all her shots; she's spayed, and she is eating dry food but enjoys the occasional bit of fish.”
Erik sighed. Between Emma's forced adoption and Charles' more than willing acceptance of surprise fatherhood, he didn't have the heart to deny the kitten. He sighed again, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “The moment she shreds anything,” he enunciated, “she's out.”
Emma simply patted his cheek and smiled.