Chapter Text
“I feel ridiculous,” sighs Edwin as he looks down at the outfit.
It’s similar to what he usually wears, but with a flair of modernism. Long trousers, soft black, but stop at his ankles. The boots were the same, since he couldn’t dare change them since he found them very comfortable. It’s the top that’s different. There’s a hidden white button-up collared shirt, but what hides it isn’t a vest this round. It’s just a navy jumper that’s got some line design by the shoulders. If he could feel it, he would assume it would be itchy. Most jumpers from what he remembered were. So, he’s pleased by the ghost rule that lacks touch right now.
“Don’t be silly,” Niko hums. “You look great in it!” Her hands clasp in front of her.
Edwin gives one look down at himself. He has to rely on others when it comes to appearance. Another issue when it came to being a ghost. He has to trust Niko on this, since mirrors are now for travel when it comes to being dead.
It was always Niko he went to when it came to relationship news. He would go to her to talk of the pleasant nights he’s spent with the Cat King or get help on dates and advice. He even went to her with questions since she seemed like an expert on the topic of love. Her knowledge came from the numerous manga she’s read. He’s tried to read a few, but from the one he looked at, he got sight of things that led to more questions and giggles from Niko.
“I see nothing wrong with what I usually wear, Niko.” It’s all Edwin could think of on how to argue with the idea of a change in outfits. He’s a ghost. Ghosts usually just wear what they died in or their most known outfit.
“Just wear it. Trust me, Edwin, the Cat King is going to love it.”
He can’t argue now. He’s trapped. All he does is give a sigh before nodding. “Very well. I will wear the jumper, Niko. Thank you.”
She smiles. “Now, go enjoy your date!”
He turns around and faces the mirror that leans against the wall. Hands pull nervously at the hem of the jumper. A breath is taken before he steps through the mirror. It’s the quickest way to travel to Port Townsend. The Cat King had installed a mirror nearby for days like this. It’s a black full-body mirror that leans on a wall near the entrance of the cannery. The Cat King insisted on putting it inside, but Edwin fought with the reason that privacy is always needed, even for kingdoms.
It’s an eight-hour difference from London to Port Townsend. When he left the office, the moon had already started his job. Here, the sun is a little past halfway in the sky, shining brightly and almost blinding Edwin as he steps out of the mirror that’s outside the cannery.
They two work around the Cat King’s time zone since Edwin wasn’t one who needed sleep, and it was much easier for Edwin to travel to Port Townsend. The Cat King can teleport. He knows that the Cat King can travel that distance, but he assumes that it takes a toll on him. So many of their dates and meet-ups are closer to Port Townsend for the Cat King’s sake.
The cannery is littered with cats ambling around. There’s a handful of them laying out in the sun, lazily resting in the warmth. A couple of cats amble around the docks; none seem to be on a mission or have any place to be. He knows how many cats call Port Townsend home, the Cat King always asks.
One cat that sits on a tower of boxes near the entrance spots Edwin and tilts his head. The two have met before, and names have exchanged a while back. It was something Edwin wanted to do to impress the Cat King a while back: memorise all the names of the cats under the king’s reign. It isn’t an easy task; he’s still trying to remember about twenty to thirty, but the one in front of him was named Tony. A young snowshoe with soft grey all around with white detailing around his face and paws.
“He’s inside,” the cat squeaks out before rolling onto his side as if he believed he deserved pets for giving information to the ghost.
“Thank you,” he says, before reaching over. He lets his fingers brush against his exposed stomach for a moment. The soft vibrations of the cat tell the ghost that he’s enjoying the scratches. He doesn’t do it long since he does have a date to get to.
He heads inside the cannery. The whole building smells like expired tuna and wet fur. It’s something one would have to get used to. More cats lounge away, taking midday naps. Some make cardboard boxes or wood pallets their beds, while others lay against other cats. There’s a clean trail from the entrance to the throne that’s made of wood pallets that sits in the centre of the cannery. Half of himself hangs off the throne, and the other lays lazily against the armrest.
All down in black lies the one called the Cat King. Black hair that’s usually gelled back to the point that it’s gone stiff is now loose and drapes down the side of his face. He almost looked bored, or he’s taking a cat nap as well. From what Edwin can see, he’s wearing a black silk robe that spills over the throne, exposing much of his middle. A black leather skirt hugs a little lower on his hips, revealing a blue elastic waistband. And to finish the look, he donned black socks paired with black combat-like boots.
Edwin takes a few steps towards the throne, but before he’s a metre away, the king starts to stir. He watches the finer details on his face scrunch up. The Cat King’s nose raises just a smidge and tilts slightly. It turns to face Edwin. Golden amber eyes flutter awake, and he watches a grin start to glow on the king’s features. He can tell the other hasn’t shaved in a day or two, with a scruff almost reminding him of whiskers.
“Hmm, you smell wonderful. New cologne?”
“Um, no?” Edwin states with confusion rising within him. He understands that when it comes to the Cat King, a few of the ghost rules seem to falter since he was a magickal being. He’s learnt that touch is present in both his human and cat form. But smell? Well, he’s not sure about that since this was the first time he had ever addressed it.
The wooden throne groans from the shifting weight. Feet plant on the ground before arms are tossed up. A few pops come from the king’s spine as he arches his back. The king finally raises himself to properly sit up on the throne for a moment.
“There’s something. It’s heavenly.”
He pulls himself up and takes the steps to close the space between the two.
“I can assure you, nothing is different. Well,” the clothes were different, but Niko had washed them first before he was given them. “I did change my outfit, but I doubt that could be the—”
Before he could finish the thought, the Cat King finds himself right up against Edwin. Hands press against the jumper and slide upward to his shoulders. He has his face pressing against his shoulder. He can feel him take a deep breath while his nose is digging into the wool. How Niko was right is a mystery, but it seems like he really did like the jumper.
“Cat King?” Edwin stays completely still as he just lets the other take in the jumper.
There’s a faint hum, but that’s all Edwin gets for a reply. The King is too focused on the article of clothing than the actual ghost: he’s starting to question. He can feel palms kneading into the wool jumper and into Edwin’s shoulders slightly. It’s a strange sight, but from it all, Edwin is starting to realise that the Cat King is more cat than king right now.
Edwin reaches up. Each hand takes a wrist, and he slowly pries the king off of him. He moves the other’s hands away from his shoulders and down to the Cat King’s side. There’s a pathetic faint whine that comes from the Cat King, making this more difficult than it should be for Edwin.
“If you can explain what has gotten into you, I will let you back at whatever you were doing.”
Those amber eyes are dilated, and there’s more black than colour. He’s seen it before that look before, but only when the Cat King was a cat. He wasn’t sure the cause this round since there isn’t any catnip or anything that could–
It hits him. He lowers his head and looks down at the wool jumper. Was it that? He takes a step back from the Cat King and takes the bottom hem of the jumper and pulls it over his head, taking it off. It ruins his gelled hair by releasing a few strains from their hold. It even tries to grab the bottom shirt and pull it from being tucked in.
Before he can even offer the jumper, the Cat King latches his hands to the wool, burying his face into the fabric. Edwin gives up on holding it and lets the Cat King have it. He can’t help but smile and release a small laughter from it all.
Once the Cat King had full reign of the jumper, purple smoke covered him. Once it fades, Edwin finds a midnight coat cat rolling against the jumper. He watches the cat knead his paws into the fabric. There’s an eruption of purring from the cat as he finds himself tangled up in a sleeve.
Edwin knows he won’t be getting his jumper back, but he might be okay with that. Niko did mention lovers tend to share clothes. This was the closest the two will get to that.
The ghost kneels down next to the Cat King and reaches over to take the jumper and the cat onto his lap. The cat doesn’t stop playing with the jumper, which is fine. He can still pet the king when he’s busy with the wool.
“No explanation other than you may be inebriated on wool?”
“Am not drunk,” the Cat King says with the sleeve covering his face but his eyes so he can look up at him. “Just, it’s so nice.” He continues to roll and bat at the jumper, careful with claws.
“Hm,” hums Edwin. “Well, I see no reason to take it back.”
A hiss slips from the cat. It seems like Edwin will not be taking it home, which is fine with him. The Cat King seems more thrilled with the jumper than he did. Hopefully no one else asks what happened to it. Well, he will definitely be telling Niko about this little date of his when he heads back.
Every so often, Edwin would get a glimpse of wide amber eyes up at him. The cat just smiles when eyes meet up. It only lasts for a bit before he’s going back to the jumper. It lasts long enough for Edwin to know that this little date was better than what they had planned. Seeing the Cat King with ecstasy filling his veins is a perfect enough night for him.
Edwin isn’t sure how long he stays on the floor, but it’s long enough to have the Cat King fall asleep on his lap wrapped in the sweater. He smiles softly when he notices the relaxed breaths coming from the cat.
Carefully, he scoops up the king and the sweater and carries him to the throne. He lays both down on the throne before leaning in and kissing the top of the Cat King’s head. “Sleep well, Thomas,” he whispers before heading home back to the office.