Chapter Text
Growing up with Carmilla, Laura never got the impression that she was an animal person.
Her mother usually had some kind of expensive toy dog breed to walk around West Hollywood. Carmilla never knew the names of these animals and spoke of them like they were actual toy dogs, just stuffed animals that were incapable of functioning.
Laura didn’t realize until years later that maybe she just didn’t like that particular brand of designer dog.
Two days after they moved in together, Carmilla vanished for a few hours. Laura tried calling her cell a couple times, but she got no response. Carmilla was still in her ‘broody walks around the neighborhood’ phase, so Laura didn’t worry too much.
She was a bit confused, however, when Carmilla turned up laden with bags just after sunset.
“Carm, where have you been?” Laura laughed lightly, helping Carmilla divest herself of some of the lower-hanging bags that were in danger of falling. “On a related note, what is all this?”
“Hey, I did a thing,” Carmilla said breathlessly, her voice muffled behind a bag that was somehow in front of her face.
“Yeah, uh, what kind of thing?” Laura asked, glancing into the bags as she slowly circled Carmilla to remove them.
Cat food. Cat toys. Cat litter. A cat bed. A scratching post. A litter box.
That was when Laura finally heard a tiny, pathetic little ‘mew’ come from somewhere in the vicinity of Carmilla’s shoulder. Laura nearly tripped over the bags she had just set on the floor in her haste to get to the noise. She almost knocked Carmilla over reaching for the cat carrier slung over Carmilla’s shoulder. She fumbled with the zipper while Carmilla stammered excuses, but Laura could barely hear her because in her hands was a tiny ball of black fluff with green eyes.
It was skinny and shivering, and Laura devolved instantly into a cooing mess, sitting right down on the floor where she stood and cuddling the tiny thing in her arms for warmth.
“Oh good, you like him,” Carmilla drawled sarcastically, but Laura recognized the genuine relief in her voice as she sat down with her on the floor. “Laura, this is Bagheera. Bagheera, Laura.”
“Carmilla Karnstein, why is he so tiny and cold? Where is his mother?” Laura demanded, but she was distracted almost immediately by Bagheera chewing on her pinky finger.
“Well I was just leaving the apartment building to go for a walk,” Carmilla began slowly, and Laura had to stop herself from snorting a laugh. Broody walk. Typical. “And I heard this noise in the alley. And there he was, all by himself and dirty and cold and wet and pathetic. So I grabbed him and looked all over for his mom or any siblings or anything, but it was just him.”
Carmilla sighed a bit and Laura’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. Big bad Carmilla Karnstein, all bent out of shape over a little kitten. Laura thought to tease her, but she stopped herself. It was too sweet.
“So I took him to the vet and they said he was hungry and dehydrated and he has an ear infection, but otherwise he’s okay. A little young, so we’ll have to help him eat for the first week or so. And I have this medicine for his ear that he’ll hate, and we need to keep him warm. And then I went to the pet store and kind of…” she sighed again and ran a hand through her hair as she looked around at all the bags. “Went nuts.”
“Carm, this is so sweet,” Laura laughed, handing the kitten over to Carmilla and watching how her eyes softened and she snuggled the little guy into the crook of her neck. “And of course you named him Bagheera, nerd.”
“Whatever, it’s perfect for the noble panther he will become,” Carmilla grunted, a sly smile sparkling in her eyes. “So you’re not mad?”
“Of course not,” Laura gave Carmilla a gentle shove with her shoulder. “He’s perfect and I love him. He is going to live with us forever and have the happiest cat life possible.”
Bagheera grew up into a beautiful long-haired black cat. He was, without a doubt, Carmilla’s cat, adopting her broody tendencies and overall aversion to other people. But he was still a kitten around Laura, always ready for a cuddle or happy to play with a stuffed mouse on a string. The joke became that he was Carmilla’s cat, but he liked Laura better.
But it was just a joke. Carmilla had saved him. And he slept curled up in her bed every night.
At least, until her bed became their bed. Then he slept in their bed every night.
Bagheera lived to be seventeen years old. Long enough to see Laura and Carmilla get fake engaged and then real married, long enough to see Laura become a journalist and Carmilla become a writer. Long enough to add another member to the family.
The moment Bagheera met baby Rory, he was in love. He was her shadow, following her around the house and watching over her like she was his own weirdly shaped kitten.
Rory was eight when he died. It was hard on her, considering how young she was. But it was pretty hard on Carmilla and Laura too. He had been there, after all, through a very important section of their life together.
They took Rory to the humane society after a period of mourning to let her pick out a new cat.
They came home with a puppy.