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“Really, Sir, I don’t see why you’re so insistent on comparing me to a dog.” Sebastian states the words simply.
“Are you not my servant? Am I not a dog?”
“Sir—”
“Sebastian.”
“Yes, Sir,” He grits out the words, more harshly than need be, especially with the fact he’s talking to his master. He shouldn’t be speaking so sharply.
“So, what are you?”
“A dog.”
“Good boy.”
And it does feel nice to be recognized for his efforts.
He just wishes the words weren’t laced with connotations of being a mangy mutt. Pluto is in the yard if Ciel wants a dog so badly. He doesn’t need this to become their new flavor of dynamic.
But, he is loyal.
He will do it.
-/-/-/-
Mey-Rin once mentioned stories of humans that were animals.
Sebastian played them off as demons pulling pranks, or other supernatural attributes. Humans aren’t animals. Not in a physical sense at least.
The physical form denotes what you are, does it not?
If he is wearing human skin and people recognize him as human, he is, in a sense of the word, human.
If Mey-Rin is wearing human skin, she is human, down to her core. There is nothing non-human about her. Aside from her ability to always mess it up in such little ways that become big deals if they stack too much. Easy fixes.
She tells him about them again as he balances so perfectly on a chair. Cautious yet swift movements change the bulb. He knows how to do it, so he does it as swift as possible.
“Gee, Sebastian, you’re awfully like a cat, aren’t you?”
“Mey-Rin, please,” Sebastian starts, “I’m not half as elegant as a cat is, though I am flattered. Continue on with your story.”
“Right! Sorry.”
-/-/-/-
You press your thumbs against the paw pads of the cat. Firm, yet squishy. You watch with rapt attent as the claws pop.
It meows at you.
You ease your grasp.
It nuzzles up into you.
You try to ignore thinking about the way Mey-Rin compared you to a cat. Graceful. Gorgeous. Far better than the mutt whimpering and whining at your feet.
You’re shocked this one hasn’t run away yet, so easily resting in your lap.
Paws so soft, sharpened edges sheathed. Form so lithe. Instincts always on high alert. Eyes slitted in vertices.
For a brief moment, you think of Finny, the boy that’s a bird.
Is he the reason Mey-Rin knows so many stories of humans that aren’t human? Probably. It never hurts to try and understand your companions, especially when they’re unlike you are. Baldroy did the same, said he stopped cooking poultry just for the kid.
The cat in your lap purrs against your chest.
You hum it back, low pitch, trying to emulate it.
A humans body just doesn’t quite work like that, you doubt your real body would either.
A shame, really.
-/-/-/-
Sebastian tries not to flinch when Ciel calls him a mutt.
Sebastian tries not to smile too much when the others call him a cat.
What an odd situation he’s worked himself into.
An even odder sense of self lays underneath.
For as old as he is, he’s shocked he didn’t notice it sooner.
That he is, simply, a cat.