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Ron entered his dorm, bone weary and ready to just not think about classes or coursework for a few hours. He strode into his shared bedroom, depositing his backpack at the foot of his bed and straightening, then froze.
Ron blinked once, then twice, but the scene in front of him didn’t make any more sense the longer he stared at Tom’s bed. There, curled near the pillow where a patch of sunlight was streaming through the window, was a cat. A little spotted thing, curled in a ball with its throat up, face smooshed against the blanket and ears pressed flat by the mattress. A black-tipped tail wrapped around the tawny fur, marked all over with black spots. Ron glanced around, almost expecting his roommate to appear from thin air and explain why there was a cat on his bed. A very unallowed cat on the bed of possibly the biggest rule-follower in the Navy. But Tom was nowhere to be seen, leaving him with a perfectly content, sunbathing kitty.
Ron knew enough about cats to know he should probably leave this one alone, at least until Tom returned. Once his roommate got back Ron would surely receive an explanation. Until then, it was best to leave the cat be. But when Ron flopped on his bed he found he couldn’t focus on his book, attention drifting again and again to his spotted companion. Its tail had black rings, too, spots reaching down to the kitty’s cream-colored belly. If it weren’t for the unique markings Ron would think it was an ordinary cat, but he’d never seen a domestic feline with those kinds of spots.
Ron jumped when the kitty stretched, a small, content ‘mrrow’ leaving it before it settled again in its spot of sunlight. He huffed, lips twitching as he rolled his eyes at himself.
He finally sighed, giving up on reading and tossing his book on the foot of his bed as he stood up. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped closer to the feline. The cat didn’t stir. Slowly, expecting the cat to wake and bolt at any second, Ron lowered himself onto the mattress, a foot or so away from the bundle of fur.
Nothing.
The cat looked as content as ever and Ron found himself carefully reaching out towards the floof, almost unconsciously, but paused, hand an inch above short fur. The cat shifted before he made contact, head raising to blink sleepily at his hand. Looking at the kitty’s face for the first time, he noted black lines from the outside corners of the cat’s eyes that stretched an inch back along the side of its head, towards its neck. They were present along the inside corners, too, framing the cat’s nose. The back of the ear Ron could see was black, with a quarter-sized white spot near the base. The cat didn’t move save for stretching its neck out a bit so that it could sniff Ron’s fingers. Ron waited with bated breath, half expecting to get attacked.
Instead, the feline lowered its head and bonked its temple against the side of Ron’s hand before setting its head again on the mattress. Gray eyes remained open, the feline’s expression clearly conveying that it was already bored of Ron’s indecision. Ron huffed, moving at last to slowly stroke the cat’s side. Immediately, a low purr greeted him and Ron chuckled, relaxing. He and the cat sat in near silence for a while as he pet the rough fur, quiet purring filling the air between them.
Ron wondered absently when his roommate would return, exhaustion becoming more and more prominent the longer he sat there. With nothing else to do for the day, Ron gave in to the urge to lie down, settling mindfully on his back near the wall so as not to disturb the cat. The feline didn’t move as he laid down next to it, shifting so the cat was under his arm, fingers continuing to thread through coarse fur.
The kitty seemed perfectly content with the attention, barely batting an ear at Ron’s movement and newfound nearness. That ease was infectious, and Ron found himself lulled by the small ball of warmth next to him, as well as the soothing sound of the kitty’s purring. Before he knew what he was doing, his eyes were fluttering closed.
When Ron woke up, it was to the sound of movement in the kitchenette and a noticeable absence at his side. Ron stretched tiredly, a quick glance at the clock showing that he’d only been dozing half an hour or so. A cursory scan of the neat bedroom showed it devoid of his feline companion.
Ron padded into their living space and found Tom at the counter making himself a sandwich.
The blond glanced up at his approach, offering a barely-there smile in greeting. “Sleep well?”
Ron hummed, absently trying to tame his likely wild bedhead. “Where’s the cat?”
Tom stopped what he was doing, turning to Ron with a bewildered blink. “The what?”
Ron returned his roommate’s confusion with some of his own. “The cat? It was on your bed when I came back?”
Tom’s brow remained furrowed, then his eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“What? No! There was a cat on your bed, Tom. It was sunning itself. Covered in spots? Black tipped tail?”
Tom stared at him for a long few seconds, then his tone gentled a touch. “Ron, are you okay?”
“Wha—Yes! Tom, I’m fine. I’m telling you, there was a cat on your bed.”
Tom hummed, though Ron could tell the younger man still didn’t believe him. “Is that why you were on my bed? Was wondering about that…”
“Yes, that’s why I was on your bed, T. Because there was a cat there.” Ron groaned. He knew how crazy it sounded, he hadn’t believed it himself at first, after all. But he’d seen the cat with his own eyes, had heard and felt it. He knew it had been there.
Tom sighed, and apparently decided to take pity on him. “Alright, Ron, I believe you saw this cat. I haven’t seen it since I came in a few minutes ago, though, so maybe it left?”
Ron shot the blond a deadpan look worthy of…well, worthy of Tom, really. “How would it disappear, Tom? It can’t open doors and we’re on the third floor, it’s not like it jumped out a window.”
Tom huffed back. “What do you want me to say, Ron? Maybe it was a dream?”
“Not a dream.” Ron stated decisively. He knew the cat had been there.
But where had it gone?
He didn’t blame Tom for looking at him like that. He’d look at someone else like that if they were claiming to have seen an unauthorized cat that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Tom sighed, bringing Ron’s attention back to his roommate. “You want a sandwich?”
Ron opened his mouth, a retort ready. Because what he wanted was for this cat to show up so that Tom could see for himself that Ron wasn’t crazy. But it wasn’t like there were a whole lot of possible hiding places in the dorm the cat could be.
And so he sighed in defeat, nodding. “Yeah, Bud, a sandwich would be great.”
Tom sent him a sympathetic look, offering the plate containing his own finished sandwich while reaching for the bag of bread.
“Tom, you don’t need to—“
His roommate huffed before he could get the rest of his sentence out.
“It’s just a sandwich, Ron, only takes a minute to make one. And you just woke up, I don’t trust you not to make some type of peanut butter and ham atrocity.”
Ron grimaced at the idea. “I’m not that tired, Tom.”
The blond simply hummed noncommittally. Ron rolled his eyes, but ruffled his kid’s hair in silent thanks, sitting down to eat.
oO0Oo
Ron was in front of the stove stirring the noodles in his boiling pot of water, lost in thought. A soft chirp had him swiveling to the doorway, blinking in surprise when he saw the cat standing there. They stared at each other for a long moment, before the cat chirped again, breaking the spell.
“Where have you been?” Ron growled, though it was hard to hold onto his annoyance when the cat tilted its head, chirping a third time. Ron scowled, wishing he could find it in himself to stay angry with the spotted kitty, but when the feline perked up and trotted over to happily rub against his legs Ron found any remaining traces of resentment fade into amused resignation.
“Where have you been, huh?” This time the words left him far more fondly as Ron reached down to slip a hand under the cat’s chest, lifting the little ball of fur effortlessly. It couldn’t weigh more than nine or ten pounds.
The cat meowed as Ron cradled it to his chest with a sigh, rubbing a gentle head over the kitty’s head. It allowed itself to be held for a few seconds, then seemed to get antsy, squirming to climb onto Ron’s right shoulder. The brunette hissed softly when he felt sharp claws poke his skin, but then the kitty was settled happily on his shoulder and the claws were barely there. Ron had to lean forward a little, turning his head to glare at the cat who was forcing him into this uncomfortable position.
He received a soft purr in response and sighed, reaching up to rub the cat’s cheek, scratching under its chin when it lifted its head, leaning into his hand. Ron chuckled, continuing to stir noodles periodically with his unoccupied hand. The cat seemed happy to watch him cook, tail flicking against his back and occasionally tickling his neck.
When Ron moved to drain the noodles the cat shifted with him, remaining on his shoulder with ease. He wasn’t even stuck with razor-sharp claws. Ron tossed some Parmesan cheese, butter, and seasoning in the pot, before dishing a bowl up. He’d started making more food than he was going to eat when he found out how often his roommate forgot or put off food. It was always good to have fresh leftovers in case he had to force-feed Tom.
It wasn’t until he sat down at the small table that the kitty left his shoulder, landing gracefully with a soft ‘thump’ on the table and immediately padding closer, attempting to stick his nose in Ron’s bowl.
“No.” Ron growled, sliding the cat back with a careful hand on its chest.
“Mrrow.” The cat looked insulted, of all things, and moved again for the noodles.
“No!” Ron exclaimed, this time with more force as he picked up his bowl, leaning back in his seat.
“Mrrow.” The cat, somehow, put emphasis on the sound, something Ron didn’t even know animals could do. It trotted forward, placing one front paw on Ron’s right forearm while its other hung in the air between them while the feline craned its neck in an attempt to get at the bowl.
“Would you leave me alone? I didn’t cook this for you!” Ron scolded, gently lifting the cat under the chest to scoot it back.
This greatly displeased the cat, which sat in front of Ron and began to, for lack of a better word, scream at him.
“MrrOOWww.”
“Alright! Alright, you’re gonna get me in trouble, cat. You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”
“Mrow.”
“I know, but they won’t care about that. You are a very-much-unallowed feline, so I suggest keeping it down.”
The cat huffed, still looking disgruntled. Then it looked again at Ron’s meal, before meeting his eyes with a questioning chirp. Ron found himself caught off guard by the plea in those somehow-familiar gray eyes, and he sighed.
“Fine, one noodle, okay? Here.” Ron carefully picked a spaghetti noodle out of his bowl, placing it on the table in front of the cat. He was rewarded with a much happier chirp as the cat hunched down, front paws tucked neatly under its chest while it scarfed down the noodle.
Ron watched quietly, a small smile on his face as tension he hadn’t even noticed was present left his frame. The cat’s presence was soothing, somehow. The stresses of Academy faded when he was watching the spotted bundle of fur.
Even when it was being a grumpy terror.
The cat sat up again, licking its lips.
“Mrrow?”
Ron sighed and, despite his words a scarce few seconds earlier, placed another noodle in front of the cat. The cat chirped, tail swishing happily as it continued eating and Ron huffed, shaking his head at himself. They continued the meal like that, the cat chomping down offered noodles while Ron ate his lunch and watched. He found himself talking to the cat like he would a person.
And somehow it felt like he was being understood.
Those gray-blue eyes were intelligent, but Ron knew he was basically talking to himself. Nevertheless, he appreciated the cat’s quiet company.
If only his roommate would show up and see the cat, too. Maybe then they could find out where it came from.
Ron sighed, standing to begin cleaning up. The cat moved to the nearest edge of the table, sitting regally with its fluffy tail resting over its front paws. Ron was elbow-deep in scrubbing the pot he’d used when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see that the cat had its head craned in the direction of the front door, ears facing forward, flicking back towards him, then facing forward again.
Without warning the kitty leapt down, hitting the floor at a trot and disappearing from Ron’s sight in the direction of the dorm door. He muttered a curse, turning the water off and haphazardly grabbing a towel as he followed the feline.
He heard their door open, then a yelp reached his ears.
“What—?!”
“Don’t let him out!” Ron called back, racing around the corner and immediately groaning.
Tom winced, sending him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Ron, he bolted when I opened the door.”
Ron sighed, moving to poke his head into the hall. No kitty.
“You saw it, though?” He questioned, turning back to his roommate, who nodded, socked feet shuffling nervously.
“Yeah. Yeah, Ron, I saw it.”
Ron sighed, grateful for that, at least. “So you finally believe me?”
Tom sent him a puzzled (and borderline-concerned) look in return. “I believed you before, Ron.” A pause, then the blond admitted, “But seeing him does help.”
“I knew it.” Ron smirked, throwing an arm around his kid’s shoulders and leading him into the kitchen. “You hungry? Made some noodles, it’s probably still warm.”
“Already ate.” Tom dismissed, moving away from Ron to fill a glass with water.
“An actual meal?” Ron pressed carefully, eyeing Tom as he returned to his earlier scrubbing position at the sink.
Tom huffed, lips tweaking up. “Yes, Ron, an ‘actual meal.’”
Ron turned to meet Tom’s eyes—the key to whether or not Tom was lying—and found nothing but sincerity shining in his gaze. “Alright. You wanna head to the library in a bit? Once I get this cleaned up?”
Tom relaxed, the beginning of a grin gracing his features. “Sounds good.”
oO0Oo
Ron sat down on their couch with a sigh, opening his textbook in his lap with the genuine intention of studying, his notes perched neatly on the coffee table, perfectly in-reach. He was there nearly an hour when he heard a soft scuffle from the other end of the couch.
Ron glanced up and found himself meeting piercing blue eyes, the spotted feline across from him freezing in place. Its back end remained on the couch arm while its front paws rested on the side, poised to jump down onto the cushions.
Ron sighed.
“Hello again, Spots.”
“Mrrow.” The cat replied, looking indignant.
Ron wasn’t sure when he accepted how easily the cat conveyed complicated emotions.
“What, you don’t like that?”
A chirp as the cat allowed itself to hop down and pad over, sniffing the edge of his textbook’s cover. Then it sat down beside him, looking up at Ron calmly.
“‘rrow.”
“How about Tiger?”
The disgruntled look aimed at him had Ron laughing.
“What about Mitsy?”
The cat’s lips peeled back, face scrunching.
“Okay, not a girl. Good to know.” Ron considered it a few seconds.
“Alright, alright. Leo?”
The cat shook his head and Ron froze.
“Did you just…?”
“Mrrow.”
Okay. The cat could communicate more clearly than Ron’s younger siblings. Noted.
“…Alright, then. So not Leo?”
Another head shake. Ron pinched his arm hard to ensure he wasn’t dreaming and the cat batted at his fingers with an angry chirp.
“Sorry, sorry.” Ron muttered with an amused huff, scrubbing his hand affectionately over the cat’s head. “Not Leo, so…Puss?”
A headshake.
“What about Toulouse?”
An annoyed, ‘are you kidding?’ look was all Ron needed to get his answer and he chuckled.
“No Disney. Alright, fair enough.” Ron considered it for a moment, before another idea emerged. “How about Prowler?”
The cat perked up, ears flicking, but still shook his head. Though his movements were more excited this time.
“Hawkeye?”
Another head shake and a chirp.
“Viking?”
No. Though the cat was certainly more pleased by the Navy-aircraft names than it had been by the typical cat names.
“Intruder?”
Headshake.
Ron paused, then, “How about Tomcat?”
A happy chirp this time, and the cat lowered his head, gaze on Ron calm and trusting. Ron stroked the kitty’s head with his fingers and in turn the feline butted his hand, spinning in a single circle before settling in a neat ball against Ron’s thigh.
“Tomcat?” Ron asked again, unable to stop his smirk.
“Mrrow.”
So he had a Tom and a Tomcat. Ron chuckled, shaking his head at the irony as he relaxed back in his seat. His left hand tracked mindlessly to the cat at his side as he resumed reading.
After a while, Ron switched to reading aloud, something Tomcat appreciated, judging by the purring that soon filled the small room.
oO0Oo
Ron bit into his chicken sandwich, pulling a piece of meat off and offering it to Tomcat, who sat in front of him on the table. He was thanked by a bright chirp as the feline delicately picked the chicken from his fingers and scarfed it down, cleaning the mayo off his whiskers before looking to Ron for more.
Ron chuckled, pulling off another piece. “You’re not an ordinary cat, you know.”
“Mrrow.” The cat didn’t seem to care whether he was ordinary or not, content with devouring the new piece of chicken.
“Do you know what kind of cat you are?” Ron tried, and was met with an unimpressed look for his troubles.
Ron just rolled his eyes. “Yes or no, Tomcat.”
A huff, then the cat nodded.
“You do?”
“Mrrow.”
Ron rewarded the cooperation with more chicken, soothing the kitty’s indignation.
“I think I’ll go to the library and find out what you are.”
“Mrrow.” The cat appeared indifferent to his declaration, eyes fixed on his sandwich. Ron sighed, giving him another piece before finishing it and standing.
“You want to come?”
The cat sent him a blank, ‘are you an idiot?’ look and Ron sighed again. The sass he got from this cat was even worse than from the teenager he lived with.
“You travel the halls but can’t cross campus unspotted?”
“Mrrow.”
“Alright, I’ll go by myself, then.”
The cat nodded with a yawn, standing up with a big stretch, back arching and claws revealing themselves. Then he hopped off the table, padding off to the bedroom where the morning sun was streaming in. Ron huffed, checking the cat’s water dish–which he’d decided would be appreciated some time ago–before heading out the door.
Ron reached the library and, with a quick inquiry at the front desk, tracked down an encyclopedia. After some searching he managed to find the ‘cats’ section.
“Andean mountain…caracal…cougar…flat-headed…” Then Ron paused, for there on the page was a small picture of Tomcat, a tiny blurb of information next to it.
‘Geoffroy’s Cat: A small wild cat native to South America. Known for its spotted coat and preference for temperate regions. They are about the size of a domestic cat and are found in diverse habitats. Geoffroy's cats have been observed to stand up on their hind legs to scan the surrounding landscape and use their tail as a support, an unusual behaviour among cats. Geoffroy’s cats are hunted exclusively for their pelts for the international fur trade.’ (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geoffroy%27s_cat)
That part made Ron sick, the thought of Tomcat being killed and skinned was something he never would’ve considered. And there were people out there killing these little cats just to get their fur?
Ron blew out a frustrated breath and continued reading.
‘Geoffroy’s cats spend most of their time on the ground, though they climb well and spend some time in trees. Good swimmers, local people call them ‘fishing cats’ and claim that they readily enter water. In Chile, one female was known to have crossed a 30 metre wide fast-flowing river at least 20 times. Generally, however, the local common name is ‘gato de montes’, meaning ‘cat of the mountains’.’ (https://wildcatconservation.org/wild-cats/south-america/geoffroys-cat/)
Ron would have to convince Tomcat to go to the beach and see how he liked the ocean, he decided. That was the end of the blurb, aside from a short physical description that Ron barely skimmed. He knew from the picture alone that it was his cat.
His only question was: how did a South American cat end up in the northern United States? And at Annapolis, no less. This was far from Tomcat’s preferred or ideal habitat.
Ron returned to his dorm and found Tom at his desk, chewing on the end of his pen as he stared at the work in front of him. Bright blue eyes glanced up at Ron as he entered the room and Tom let his hand drop.
“There you are. Was wondering what happened to you.”
“I went to the library to find out what kind of cat Tomcat is.”
Tom’s lip twitched. He’d found it endlessly amusing that Ron had decided on the name ‘Tomcat,’ no matter how much Ron tried to tell him it had been the cat’s choice, not his.
“So? What’d you find out?”
“He’s a Geoffroy’s cat. They’re from South America.“ Ron sat on his bed, knowledge of how the cats were treated souring his mood. Tom picked up on it and turned to face him fully, cocking his head.
“Ron?”
Ron found his gaze softening at the concern in his roommate’s expression. “‘M alright, Tom. Just a little annoyed. Apparently people hunt Geoffroy’s cats for their fur.”
Something dark passed across Tom’s face, there and gone before Ron could identify the emotion.
“Really?”
“That’s what the description said. Can you imagine killing a little cat for its fur?”
“No, no I can’t.” Tom replied slowly, watching Ron carefully.
Ron stewed angrily for a few seconds longer, before moving on to some of his more lighthearted discoveries. “They’re supposed to be good swimmers, too. Sometimes they’re even referred to as ‘fishing cats,’ though more often they’re considered mountain cats.”
Tom hummed, pulling his legs up to sit cross legged on the desk chair. How he found that comfortable Ron could only guess.
Ron finally cracked a grin. “I thought about taking Tomcat to the beach, if he wants. See how he does with the water.”
A surprised chuckle left Tom’s lips and he smirked. “You really think taking a cat to the beach is a good idea?”
Ron shrugged. “Can’t hurt. Tomcat’s smart, I think he can handle it.” A pause, then a hopeful, “You could come too, you know?”
Tom’s lip twitched in a fond smile. “I don’t have time for that, Ron.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Besides, I don’t think the cat likes me as much as he likes you.”
It was true that Tom reported seeing the cat far less than Ron did. And Ron was never able to get them in the same room, much to his annoyance. So he sighed, nodding his acceptance.
“The invitation stands, though, okay? We should spend a few days at the beach anyway, just for the sake of it. Can even drag Nick along, if you like.”
Tom’s gaze softened and he nodded. “Sounds like a plan, Ron. Good luck with the cat, if you can even get him there.”
oO0Oo
It turned out to be easier than Tom predicted to get Tomcat to the beach. The feline seemed perfectly pleased by the idea when Ron asked him: standing up to wind around Ron’s ankles and purr happily. Ron chuckled, stepping out of the living figure-eight and walking towards his room, Tomcat trotting alongside him.
The spotted kitty lay in a content loaf on Tom’s bed, watching attentively as Ron threw some things in his go-bag, absconded to the kitchen briefly, then returned to double-check all he’d packed.
“I wish Tom had agreed to come. He could use the break from studying.”
“Mrrow.”
“I know! Besides, he loves the beach. He’d stay in the water all day if he could. He might be sick if he’s turning down a beach day.”
The feline chirped and Ron glanced at him with a grin. “See? You get it. Now, c’mon, you wanna walk or ride?”
His answer came when Tomcat stood with a stretch, pink tongue curling and claws spreading, before he leapt neatly from Tom’s bed to Ron’s shoulder.
Ron hissed softly as claws stuck him, but the pokes were brief and almost immediately forgotten about, Tomcat moving to drape comfortably across Ron’s shoulders without using a nail. Ron mindfully shouldered his bag, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door.
It was only about a half-hour drive, give or take, during which Tomcat remained sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat, offering a purr whenever Ron reached a hand over to pet him.
Once they parked Ron was met with a completely different cat.
Tomcat was all bright eyes and swishing tail, ears on permanent swivel and nose twitching at the assault of smells. Ron chuckled, grabbing his bag and slamming his door, before moving to the other side of the truck and opening Tomcat’s door.
“Alright, c’mon. You gotta stay close while we’re here. I don’t want you getting hurt and cats probably aren’t exactly allowed on the beach.”
He waited for a chirp of acknowledgement, then scooped Tomcat up, allowing the tawny feline to climb back onto his shoulders. Tomcat’s tail lashed against Ron’s back as he walked and he chuckled, watching out of the corner of his eye as his cat’s head continued twisting around in an effort to keep up with their new surroundings.
He didn’t stop moving until he reached a slightly-less populated portion of the beach. It helped that it was later in the year, the days cooler and the water uncomfortable. Then, he crouched down, dropping his bag and rolling his shoulders when Tomcat leapt down. He glanced sideways at the cat.
“Alright, don’t go too far, ‘kay? I’m gonna get a spot set up.”
The kitty offered a chirp, but his tail was still swiping hard back and forth as he sat down, gray eyes on the water. Ron chuckled at him, pulling out a towel to spread, anchoring it with his bag and a couple able-bodied rocks he found.
His companion was quiet as Ron smeared on a quick coat of sunscreen, but the second he was replacing the bottle he was met with an impatient, “Mrrow.”
“Alright, alright.” Ron huffed right back, glancing down. Tomcat jumped excitedly to his feet. “What do you want me to do?”
That was apparently all the permission Tomcat needed to bolt for the ocean and Ron cursed, running after him. Sand slid under his bare feet, balance shifting with each step as he followed the feline to the edge of the waves. The only problem was that Tomcat didn’t stop, continuing to wade out into the water.
Ron halted once his ankles were submerged, hissing out a sharp breath at how cold it was.
How in the world was Tomcat so happy when the water was this cold??
“Tomcat?!” Ron called anxiously, eyes not on the cat but on the large wave that was approaching the beach. His gaze flicked down and he saw Tomcat’s head turn to him for a moment, before following Ron’s gaze out to the ocean.
Now, Ron had thought–foolishly, perhaps–that when Tomcat saw a wave twice his size barreling towards him, he’d book it for Ron and allow himself to be picked up to avoid getting soaked and washed out to sea.
That wasn’t what happened, though.
No. Instead, Tomcat got a view of that wave and ran into it, disappearing from sight.
Ron yelped, heart plummeting and already wading closer, teeth grit at how cold it was.
But then Tomcat popped up, shaking his head furiously and staying above water with apparent ease. He met Ron’s eyes and, instead of coming to shore like a normal cat, swam parallel to shore, allowing the receding waves to pull him out deeper.
Ron’s breath caught–for a moment, the next he was hissing sharply as an ice-cold wave slammed into his bare legs–and he was sure that he looked like a crazy person as he walked alongside Tomcat, who was only a couple yards out but it felt like so much, and called, “C’mere! Tomcat! C’mon! You can do it, c’mon!”
His heart was hammering in his ears and he watched as Tomcat glanced at him and, thankfully, swam towards him. Ron slowly stepped shallower and shallower, grateful that Tomcat continued on his course despite the small increases in distance. The kitty was bolstered by the waves, tail floating languidly in the water behind him. When he was able to stand again he shook, from head to toe, ignoring how new waves swept in and re-soaked him, then looked up at Ron.
“Mrrow?”
Ron gasped out a relieved breath, crouching to reach a hand for the cat. Tomcat stepped into his palm, allowing Ron to smooth gentle fingers over his head.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” The words were soft and Tomcat’s ears flicked, head tilting.
“‘Rrow?”
“You can’t scare me like that.” Ron sighed. “I didn’t know you could swim!”
Well, he did, it had been in that encyclopedia he’d found, that had been the whole reason Ron wanted to bring him here, but the information had abandoned him the second he’d seen the little ten-pound cat swimming amongst the three-foot waves. Nothing had prepared him for the way his heart would stop when he thought Tomcat was in danger.
“Mrrow?” Tomcat’s eyes got sad and he looked back out to the ocean, ears flattening on his head and immediately making Ron feel like the scum of the earth.
“You can still swim, I just wanted to make sure you were alright and didn’t need saving?”
The kitty immediately perked up, ears once more up, and he turned to Ron, chirping brightly.
Ron studied the cat the way he’d study his kid, searching for any sign of dishonesty. But the cat–the cat, Ron was looking for dishonesty from a cat–looked nothing but pleased that he’d be allowed to swim again.
So, Ron found himself sighing.
“Alright, go on and be careful. And please don’t go out too deep.”
A chirp and then the cat was gone, allowing himself to be dragged out by the waves again.
Ron still watched him, though, looking for any interesting shells and keeping half an eye on Tomcat at all times, following him up and down the shore. Tomcat never swam too far from their spot, though, and he didn’t go any deeper than he had before, glancing at Ron occasionally. Ron’s lips always twitched in a soft smile when he caught the cat’s eyes, again stunned by how human the feline was at times.
Tomcat was definitely a one-in-a-million cat.
Finally, after a couple hours and just when Ron was sure his lips were turning blue from the cold breeze and the colder water, Tomcat waded in. This time he made sure he was completely on shore before shaking off any excess water and Ron laughed aloud at how much the spotted kitty resembled a drowned rat at that moment.
Tomcat glared at him, but seemed happy when Ron dug out the second towel he’d brought and bundled the sopping fluff ball in it.
“There. Now,” Ron began, freeing his own towel from the sand and using it to dry off his legs, a relieved sigh leaving him at the same time the cold water did, “how about we head back to the truck and warm up, maybe eat a little something before heading back?”
A chirp from the bedraggled, content cat had Ron packing up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, before reaching down to scoop up the bundle of fur.
To say Tomcat looked displeased by his less-than-dignified circumstances would be an understatement.
Ron chuckled as he walked, gently squeezing his feline. “You don’t gotta look so grumpy with me. You should be tired from all that swimming. Two hours straight of fighting the current at your size? That’s insane and even though you made it look easy you’re probably gonna be sore tomorrow.”
“Mrrow.” The sulky tone had Ron snickering as he unlocked the truck and opened the passenger-side door, setting the cat on the seat and opening the back.
“Stay still for a minute while I get my other towel. I want one on the seat, try and keep it from getting all wet.”
Tomcat didn’t make a sound, but he waited patiently in his cocoon, allowing Ron to pull out and fold his towel, before lifting the kitty for a moment to smooth it over the seat.
“There.” He murmured, readjusting Tomcat’s now-damp nest and gently smoothing the fur on the feline’s face, grinning when he was rewarded with a rumbling purr. He closed both doors, moving to the other side and climbing in, huffing when he started the truck and turned up the heat.
“You hungry? I know I’m starved after just watching you.” Ron commented casually as he stretched into the back, snagging his bag and dragging it closer. “I’ve got a PB&J if you want?” He glanced over, meeting drooping silvery eyes.
When no objection was offered, Ron unwrapped the sandwich and broke off a small piece of bread with jelly on it. As funny as watching Tomcat smack at peanut butter would be, the cat was likely too tired for that and Ron didn’t want to end their beach day on a sour note.
The kitty’s whiskers twitched, ears perking up and eyes brightening a little as he delicately took the piece of bread from Ron’s fingers, carefully uncurling from his nest enough to comfortably eat.
Ron smiled, watching the waves crash against the beach as he ate, offering another piece to Tomcat whenever the kitty chirped for it.
The cat was more respectful than Ron’s siblings.
Which was a low bar, but still.
Wiping crumbs off on his shorts, Ron reached for his water bottle, pausing with a wince when he saw Tomcat eyeing him hopefully.
“Shoot, forgot you’re probably parched, huh, Bud? Here.”
Ron unscrewed the cap, leaning over the console and cupping one hand in front of Tomcat, left hand pouring a small amount of water into his palm. Tomcat was quick to lower his head, drinking greedily from Ron’s hand. After a few moments the kitty was satisfied, licking his lips as he leaned back once more with a chirp.
Ron smiled, swiping his hand on the towel draped across the passenger seat, before taking a couple gulps himself. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching as Tomcat furiously cleaned his face and whiskers.
Ron chuckled, replacing his water bottle and rolling his shoulders, reaching over to stroke a hand down Tomcat’s back. The kitty glanced up at him, bumping his temple against Ron’s hand with a quiet, “Meow.”
Ron would take that as a ‘thank you.’
“Alright, Tomcat, ‘bout time to be heading back.”
Ron burst out laughing when a heavy sigh left the feline, small body pumping with the motion. As if he was the one who had studying and papers awaiting him.
Tomcat curled back into his nest as Ron threw the truck into reverse, and Ron was entirely unsurprised when the bundle of fur slept hard the entire ride home.
oO0Oo
Ron returned to their dorm after spending a couple hours at the gym, only to find Tomcat stretched out on their uncomfortable couch, tip of his tail twitching lazily. He chuckled, stepping closer to scratch at the cat’s neck. He was met with a content chirp, the kitty’s legs extending until he was a small crescent taking up an entire couch cushion. He yawned, revealing pointy sharp teeth, pink tongue curling cutely.
Ron huffed, scrubbing a hand over the cat’s head.
“I gotta shower, Tomcat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Mrrow.”
The kitty seemed content with that, tucking his head down and sighing, slipping back to sleep.
And that was where he was when Ron returned a short time later.
He sat at the opposite corner of the couch, reaching out to stroke gently over the cat’s head. He’d never considered himself much of a cat person before this spotted kitty began showing up, but the feline was definitely growing on him.
Tomcat chirped, making him jump when he flipped onto his feet with zero warning. Ron huffed, lifting his hand as he waited to see what the cat would do. The spotted feline padded over onto his lap, spinning once before settling in a tucked up little ball of fur.
Ron chuckled, hand tracing a lazy, repetitive pattern along the cat’s spine. He sat with the spotted kitty curled up in his lap, purring contentedly.
“Tom would like you, y’know, if you ever stuck around long enough to meet him.”
“Mrrow.” The cat couldn’t sound more indifferent if he tried and Ron sighed.
“Where do you keep disappearing to, hmm? Do you have a bunch of people you visit? Hopscotch to avoid inspection?”
The cat’s answering chirp sounded amused. The more time Ron spent with him, the more it felt like the cat understood him.
Ron huffed. “This would be easier if you could talk, huh?”
“Meow.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I meant human talk, cat.”
“Mrrow.”
“That doesn’t help me, fur ball.”
There was a faint glow of light and the weight in his lap changed, somehow. Instead of spotted fur his fingers were now threaded in sandy blond hair. Ron jumped, blinking furiously to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
They weren’t.
Tom nosed at his stomach with a huff. “I said: I can talk, but this is easier.”
Ron remained frozen, mentally scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing. The cat was gone, leaving his roommate in his place. Tom’s head was in his lap, the younger man looking perfectly happy with himself.
Ron would even say he was looking a bit smug.
“Wh—Tom?!”
“Yeah?” When Ron was unable to immediately grasp an appropriate response, Tom glanced up at him. “Want me to shift back?”
“Shift?” Ron parroted, still sitting tensely while he waited for this to make sense.
“Mhmm.” Tom hummed, before, as if to demonstrate, that light took over again and once more Ron had a little spotted ball of fur on his lap.
One second.
Two.
“Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait. Tom?!”
“Mrrow.”
“Can you— Wait. Shift back?”
The flash of light, and once more his roommate was the one sprawled comfortably on the couch instead of Ron’s feline.
Ron stared at the teen in his lap, then tipped his head back against the couch, focusing on the ceiling in a vain attempt to return to reality.
“I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming.”
Ron moved to pinch his arm and slender fingers swatted at him. “Don’t do that.” The blond, very-much-there teen in his lap scolded.
Ron glanced down again and found his kid watching him worriedly.
“Ron? Are you okay?”
Ron threaded one hand through his hair, tugging on the strands hard enough to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming. This was real. Tom and Tomcat were…were what?
“I…Yeah, yeah, kid, I’m alright. It’s just…what?”
“Which part?” Tom questioned, cocking his head.
“I…are…are you and, and the cat…?”
“One and the same.” Tom confirmed quietly, gaze turning hooded and wary. “‘m a shifter, that’s my other form.”
“So those times you acted like I was crazy…?” Tom winced.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Ron asked. And it stung, yes, but he was more curious than hurt.
Tom averted his eyes. “I had to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?”
Tom shrugged best he could in his position and Ron pointedly ran his fingers through blond hair.
“Tom? Make sure of what, kiddo?”
“Make sure you wouldn’t—“
The kid cut himself off, but now Ron thought he knew how that sentence ended.
“Tom, have people hurt you because of this before?”
The younger man swallowed, still not meeting Ron’s eyes. “Mom…Mom always said not to tell anyone. It’s a secret. S’pposed to be a secret. I got the shifting from her.”
A chill ran down Ron’s spine. “Does the Admiral know?”
“No.”
A relieved sigh left Ron and he continued carding fingers through blond hair as Tom turned into his stomach.
While Ron wanted to protect the ten-pound ball of fluff every bit as much as he did Tom, he could only imagine what the Admiral would do with something so small and vulnerable given what the man did to his son as a human.
Tom’s mom obviously had the same idea, and Ron was grateful that she was able to protect Tom at least in that way.
“Does anyone else know?” Ron murmured, settling more heavily into the couch. He felt Tom relax against him, any lingering fear finally leaving.
“No.”
Ron’s lip twitched in a small smile and he squeezed Tom’s shoulder with his free hand.
“Your secret’s safe with me, Tomcat.”
Tom settled against him, blowing out a soft breath. “I know. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought…But it was still a lot.”
Ron hummed understandingly, staying quiet.
“I…you’re the first person I told. I’ve thought about it a couple times before, but then…something always happened.”
Ron did not like the tone Tom said that in. “What kind of ‘something,’ Tom?”
The teen swallowed, hands clenching at his sides. “Just…Remember how you said people kill Geoffrey’s cats for their fur?”
Red hot rage flashed through Ron and he tensed, hand stilling in Tom’s hair. As much as he tried to keep his voice even, he could tell that he’d failed spectacularly when Tom winced at his soft, “Yes.”
The blond puffed out a breath, looking like he was regretting speaking at all, but continuing nonetheless: “That specifically has never happened to me, but I have been chased. Shot at. Some kids threw firecrackers at me. That kind of thing.”
Ron swallowed hard, free hand reaching down to gently grip Tom’s arm. “Why would anyone do that?”
Tom managed a shrug. “‘Cause I’m a cat, and some people don’t like cats. I try to be careful and not go far from the house. I try. It’s just…It hurts if I go too long without shifting, Ron. It’s like an ache in my bones. Mom said it’s like taking off a suit or a uniform after a day at work. It’s…freeing to shift. I’m meant to do that, meant to take on both forms, and staying in one for too long is uncomfortable. That’s why I did it here, at first, but then you were so…kind and it was so nice to just do both, so I did. And I wanted to tell you, but it was just…scary. And I can go a while without shifting, I once went a whole year without shifting. But that made me really, really sick. And then with Father on top of that…”
Tom shuddered and Ron felt nauseous, hands instinctively moving to tug his roommate closer.
“It was bad.” Tom whispered, not meeting his eyes.
Not that he had to.
Ron continued his gentle petting, scratching through Tom’s hair and rubbing along his arm until the teen lost the tension that had built up during his short retelling.
“Well that’s never gonna happen again. Not as long as I’m around. You can shift as much as you need to, Tom. I’ll cover for you. Always. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself to stay safe, you deserve better than that.”
Tom blinked up at him, then, cobalt eyes glassy. Then he smiled. A weak little thing, like a newly-hatched fledgling. But it was there all the same and that was enough for Ron.