Berwald's whiskers twitched. He sleepily opened one eye, and then the other in slow-boiled bemusement. He'd known something like this would happen; he hadn't missed the telltale miniature plastic container in the pet store bag when Arthur discarded it on the kitchen table for any cat to see. The enticing aroma had not escaped his sensitive nose, even through the transparent lid that the tiny green leaves could still be seen through. The suspicious bundle of plant life spelled trouble and an utter stripping of pride for any feline in a two-foot radius.
He supposed he should have warned Tino.
Peter cackled, childish amusement evident in his gleeful expression as the tabby mrrrowd all around the floor, rolling on his back and pawing at his nose. A dazed glaze shaded Tino's eyes, and he rolled again, squirming about on his back. The blond child sprinkled a pinch of the catnip on the woven rug and Tino gave an excited half-purr, his soft body curling into odd shapes to rub the scent into his fur.
Berwald pushed himself up, his tail gently drifting back and forth on the hardwood floor. Tino's hyper, drunken eyes caught the movement. Berwald blinked.
Tino seemed to have forgotten that cats always poise themselves to pounce before actually going through with the motion, and because that was the case, Berwald had no time to prepare his own escape in the split second between Tino's position on the floor to the tabby knocking into his side with a distinctly un-feline lack of grace to grab at his tail.
The dark cat had enough sense to sidestep Tino when the normally calm creature rocketed across the room when Peter tossed a bell ball into the corner of the room. Slowly, the Swedish feline crept over to the armchair and hopped onto its tall, broad back, curling up there to watch in quiet amusement as his housemate near-literally bounced off of the walls, much to Peter's great joy.
Eventually, though, when a familiar raucous voice called from the kitchen for Peter and Arthur to come to the table from some "grub", or as their provider preferred to call it, "that greasy American tripe", Tino's catnip-induced drunkenness began to wear off, and little by little, his calm demeanor began to return, and with it his shame.
In that telltale way of his when he was embarrassed, Tino refused to even look at Berwald, and slunk away to the pantry, where he would stay for hours, just sitting and lamenting on the silly things he'd done.
And in fact, he did not come out, even after Peter attempted to coax him out with food, despite the young boy's threats that big ol' Papa would eat it all. Berwald saved half of the portion. After the large cat had seen to it that Peter was fast asleep in bed, he padded quietly back into the living room and noticed a bashful nose poking out from behind the sofa. Kindly giving the tabby his space, Berwald made his way past a snoring Alfred in the armchair and over to the plush rug near the fireplace. There he sat, silently watching the mild flames flicker and crackle, just patiently waiting.
Slowly but surely, the sound of tiny paws crept closer until a soft bundle of warmth was at his side, his silence proof of his shame.
I must have been so embarrassing to watch...
Berwald looked over at his housemate. Tino was looking away, seemingly fascinated with the pile of prepackaged firewood. His tail swished nervously back and forth, tense.
... Not so bad, the larger replied, rising from his haunches to stand closer to Tino. He gently combed tiny bits of green from Tino's fluffy coat. Shoulda told y' th' provider bought it.
Tino fidgeted at the touch, still staring pointedly elsewhere, quietly purring his thanks. Berwald's dark tail flicked in reply and he sauntered over to the middle of the rug, gently settling himself there. He watched Tino quietly, and sure enough, his patience was rewarded; the smaller of the two tentatively began to peek at him over his shoulder. Berwald gave a loud exhale through his small black nose. Don't need t' be 'mbarr'ssed. Happ'ns t' th' best of us.
The tabby blinked his wide, violet eyes and pawed at his own whiskers abashedly, his eyes twin slits of shy avoidance. Berwald thought it was adorable.
I suppose that's true... he conceded after a moment, slowly drifting toward Berwald's curled form on silent paws. Berwald's chest rumbled with a deep, gentle purr and he closed his eyes as Tino curled himself as well, his back to the fireplace, nose situated near Berwald's, forming a rather charming miniature feline circle.
And if it was true, Tino began to wonder to himself just how silly his older counterpart became under the influence of catnip. Certainly, he thought, Berwald would not make a fool of himself like Tino had, jumping around the room like he'd lost his mind. Watching the dozing elder for a moment, large and regal as he was, there was just no way Berwald could ever make such a fool of himself. As he drifted off, he decided that it was definitely far too surreal to imagine, and he would simply have to see it to believe it.
I really didn't think I'd enjoy writing nekotalia as much as I did, and Sweden even as a cat is just too sexy to ignore. I'm considering making this a collection of little SuFinekotalia drabble bits, but it could very well remain stand-alone, yeah?
Um. And. In case it was confusing, Arthur is "the provider". If continued, Peter'd probably referred to as "their boy" or "the master" and Alfred... well, Alfred is Alfred, even to cats. XD