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“This seems like a bad idea.”
Faith's watching the black-furred menace that is Miss Kitty Fantastico as she sits calmly in Tara’s arms with a not-insignificant amount of suspicion. It’s not that she doesn’t like cats; she loves cats of all kinds. When she was little, she’d always leave food out for the strays, and they were the only part of Boston that she regretted leaving behind. Hell, she’s still trying to convince Buffy that they should get a cat.
But Miss Kitty Fantastico? She’s a fucking psycho-kitty, and Faith wants her far, far away from everything she owns.
Kitty (Faith refuses to call her Miss–she doesn’t deserve that kind of respect) peers up at them, green eyes wide with fake innocence. Faith glares back. Kitty, the little actress, turns her head into Tara’s arms with a frightened purr, and Faith has to hold back a scoff.
“See, she doesn’t like me,” Faith says, gesturing at the ball of fur shaking in Tara’s arms, and Kitty raises her head to hiss at Faith. For once, they’re in agreement.
“It’s just for a week,” Willow says, taking Kitty into her arms and petting her in a futile attempt to calm the cat down. “And it’s not that much work; the only big thing is that she’ll need to live with you, but everything’s written down here.” She nods at the piece of paper that they’d gone over already that lists everything that Kitty will need for the next few days. Front and back, the needy little bitch. And apparently she has attachment issues, so Faith can’t pop in twice a day and leave. No, she has to live with the demon cat for seven days.
“Please,” Tara says, and she sounds desperate enough Faith feels guilty even considering saying no. See, this is what happens when all of your friends are dog people.
Faith sighs. Fuck it, at least Buffy might finally agree to getting a pet. She says, “Okay,” and she glares at Kitty again, who’s lifted her head up in horror at hearing the news. Yeah, you better behave. This is what happens when you call a cat “Miss” and treat her like a princess–she gets a sense of self-importance that never goes away, the spoiled brat.
She takes the cat back to her apartment, ignoring the hiss as Kitty slinks away into some corner, no doubt scheming to destroy Faith’s home. She sighs, picking up the phone and calling Buffy who should be back to her dorm by now.
“I know you’re a dog person, but you still like cats, right?”
It’s been four days, and Miss Kitty Fantastico has been officially upgraded from “psycho-kitty” to “absolute devil spawn.” Faith’s couch has long claw marks gouged in it, several of her clothes have been torn into, and on one particularly memorable occasion, the cat got into her pantry, made eye contact for a solid five seconds (just making sure she was watching), and pushed an entire bag of flour onto the floor, simultaneously slashing it open with a claw.
Faith loves cats–she always has–but she’s starting to rethink that because she’s losing her fucking mind.
Buffy’s over now, and Kitty’s being miraculously well-behaved, curled up in her lap as Buffy pets her. Kitty looks up, straight at Faith, and she would swear on her life that the fucking cat is smirking. Kitty likes Buffy, and at least that’s something, because maybe Buffy will end up converted to the cat end of the pet spectrum by this whole ordeal. If this is the push that she needs, it is what it is (the couch was not sacrificed in vain).
“I thought you liked cats, though,” Buffy says, looking up from Kitty but continuing to pet her. Kitty purrs, and Faith’s jaw clenches. Seriously, this cat deserves an Oscar, the way she’s fooled everyone around her. Willow and Tara should consider putting her in movies. Hollywood’s a fucked up enough place that someone will straighten her out.
“I do,” Faith sighs. “I love cats, it’s just that this cat is a fucking devil child.”
Buffy laughs. “She’s not that bad.” She lifts Kitty up to her face, peering into her eyes. “Who’s a cute little kitty, huh? Show Faith that you’re a cute little kitty.” She sets her down, and Kitty pads over to Faith and rests her head in her lap. Oh, so now she plays nice, Faith thinks as she pets the cat. Fake bitch.
“It’s just not fair,” she complains, leaning back on her couch before remembering the stuffing spilling out of it. “You get a badass nemesis like Spike, and I get this fucking cat.”
Buffy laughs again. “Poor Faithie,” she says, leaning over and kissing her. Kitty hisses as Faith stops petting her for a second, resting her sharp little claws on her thigh as a warning.
“Needy fucking cat,” Faith grumbles, pulling away from Buffy reluctantly. Her girlfriend clearly finds this whole situation very amusing, and she’s still laughing to herself as she leaves for class. When they’re alone, Faith picks Kitty up to hold her at eye level.
“How come you’re nice to her but not me?”
Kitty just hisses.
It’s been seven days, and Faith could not be more ready for Kitty to be gone.
She’s started behaving a bit better lately–mostly because she’s destroyed every breakable thing in the apartment–but Faith’s really regretting not arguing for compensation. The things she does for her friends.
Buffy comes over with Willow and Tara, all three of them returning from class, and she’s sadder than any of the parties involved to see Kitty go (she wouldn’t feel that way if she had to live with the furry menace). Tara asks how it went, and Faith winces.
“...it was fine?”
Willow laughs, but then she catches sight of Faith’s couch, and her eyes widen.
“Yeah, I know we weren’t doing any payment, but I’d love it if I could get something for a new couch. And clothes, if we’re talking about it.”
They assure her that they’ll definitely pay her (thank god), and Kitty surprises her by rubbing against her leg as a goodbye. Okay, maybe they’ve sorta warmed up to each other, but it doesn’t excuse her destroyed furniture. Or her destroyed sanity, for that matter.
Willow and Tara leave, admonishing Kitty, and Buffy and Faith curl up on what’s left of the couch, turning the TV on. Faith’s beginning to drift off when Buffy speaks up.
“Hey, Faith?” She hums in acknowledgement. “We should get a cat.”