Work Text:
Greta hopped in Thomas’s lap unexpectantly. She did not flinch at his yelp, nor batted an eye at his unnerved visage. She merely settled herself plainly on his warm legs, curling into a ball.
“Gr-Greta, please, I...” He protested softly, his voice catching in his throat. But he did not bother to move her. And she did not bother to move.
She tickled his fingers with her whiskers, a silent request for affection. She purred triumphantly once she felt his thumb brush along the top of her head.
“Forgive me, my sweet.” He muttered. “I-I was…away again.”
She looked up and watched him rub the wetness off his cheeks with the back of his free hand.
He did not have to tell her, for she knew. She had seen him in that stance countless times. Sitting too stationary on the floor. Staring absently at the nothingness in front of him. A frown so low, and a great deal of dewdrops trickling down from his unblinking eyes.
Her sudden presence usually brought him back to her in their room. In their home. In their world. Where he belonged.
She stiffened for only a moment when she found her body ascending. Thomas picked her up and wrapped his arms around her in a tender embrace. He rubbed his bristled cheek across her head, a muffled whimper escaping his closed lips. She did not flare up when she felt droplets dripping on her from above. Did not mew nor showed any sign of discomfort. She closed her eyes and melted in his hold on her.
Most cats did not fancy being coddled so, resolving to hiss and struggle for release. Leaving behind a scathing mark as a reminder to never attempt such a feat again. But Greta was not such a cat. She was generous in her doting, though they were once reserved for the one called Ellen. She was so frail and pale, Greta felt it necessary to bathe her in cuddles to keep her from freezing in the winters. She stopped doing the same for Thomas, for he made such a fuss about his fancy suits being covered in her fur.
But Ellen had stopped waking up, and Thomas became much more in need of Greta’s warmth.
“Thank you, my sweet.” He whispered against his choked vocals.
Greta was delighted when he began calling her such a name after the change, finding it befitting of her disposition.
He sniffled and placed her back on the ground, and not on his lap. As he wiped his face again, Greta stretched before preparing to make her way back where she wished to rest. She was interrupted by the rising of his two-legs. He stared at something a few feet away, a tad dumbfounded.
“Good heavens, how long had I been…” He trailed off, his mouth slightly gaping as he stared a moment longer.
Worried lines etched over his forehead as he went back to eyeing his companion. “Pray, forgive my distractedness—I...hadn’t the slightest inkling how late it was.”
Greta blinked up at him slowly.
“You must be famished.” With haste, Thomas scrambled towards the kitchen.
Noticing the direction he was headed roused a great elation in Greta. She followed behind him, yowling merrily as she went.
“I have something special for you this evening.” He called over his shoulder.
There was always something different that graced her bowl during mealtimes. Cuts of meat, crumbles of bread soaked in warm milk, tender slices of carrots…She was never granted such luxuries before, but she had noticed Thomas no longer partook in as much sustenance as he once did, and now showered her with abundance. She licked her whiskers in anticipation of what was to come to her bowl.
The smell of the sea permeated throughout the room as Thomas gathered an item wrapped in newspaper out of the ice box. Greta stopped her mewing and watched him carefully unwrap it on the countertop. Her pupils dilated at the sight of the fish meat, too far away for her liking. She mewed for Thomas’s attention, bringing his gaze to her and giving her one of his rare, gentle grins.
“Yes, my dear. All of this is for you.” He reached over to the knife stand and withdrew an average sized blade.
“There was a fisherman in town today.” He disclosed as he began cutting the meat into small pieces.
"Of the provisions he had on display, I requested the one that which was already prepared, for I knew I could not skin the cod myself."
Though he formally was not much for chatter, Greta had grown accustomed to the human's ramblings. It brought him great comfort to divulge his privies onto her, doing so more freely than he had with others of his kind.
“But I knew I could not miss an opportunity to give you such a treat."
Greta nudged her head against his ankles.
“He was an elderly man, the fisherman. Kind and harmless. Spoke cheerfully to each of his patrons, exchanging pleasantries to all as one would a dear friend. When I became the next to be serviced, I was treated no different.”
Thomas ceased his cutting and stared at the wall in front of him.
“He called attention upon my wedding band.”
Greta stopped her pacing and sat at his feet.
“He…chuckled lightly and questioned…why my pretty wife was not out perusing the market with me.”
Thomas stood motionless until Greta’s sharp whine returned him to his task.
“Y-Yes, of course. Forgive me, my sweet.” He nodded apologetically.
“Pray, I assure you, his words were not of malicious intent. He must have greeted many a man with that very question all through the day. Yet, I…did not know what sort of reply to give. Perhaps before, it would have garnered an untroubled response from me. Perhaps I would have once been cordially playful along with him. But my mind began to race in the most frightening way.
"I thought of Ellen…Thought of her cold hand in mine, the blood that coated her sheets, the...skeleton that veiled her flesh. His skeleton...I-I—" Thomas blinked, but gathered himself quickly.
"Telling him the truth was ludicrous but being deceitful boded ill as well.”
He brought Greta’s empty food bowl to the counter and began laying the pieces inside. The hungry cat mewed eagerly.
“Ultimately, I…I forced a smile upon my face and uttered not a word. What’s more, I'd forgotten to bid the fisherman 'good day' before my departure. What displeasure he must have found himself in when he encountered me.”
He knelt beside Greta and placed her bowl in front of her. He stroked her back gingerly just as she began eating heartily.
“And yet, for you, my sweet, I would brave the exchange all over again.”
Once Greta finished her meal, she strutted into the parlor room, licking deliciously at her lips. She found Thomas lying flat on his back along the chesterfield, only stirring when he heard the pitter-patter of her approach. He pulled himself upright and watched her intently, baring a look of concern.
“I, uh…well, if I may be so forward..." He squirmed in his seat, furrowing his brow further.
She sat down a short distance away and wetted her paw to clean herself.
"Uhm...D-Did…Did you enjoy your dinner?”
The room went quiet as Thomas seemingly awaited a response. He lowered his head and fidgeted with his fingers.
“I suppose I could...check myself to see if you deliciously indulged in, uh...I-If cod is not to your liking, I could purchase different kinds for you. Find another fish that best suits—"
Greta hopped in his lap unexpectantly. She did not flinch at his yelp, nor batted an eye as she interrupted his unnerved babbling. She merely settled herself plainly on his warm legs, curling into a ball.