Chapter Text
"I call top bunk!" MacArthur declared, dragging a bag that was four times the size of her head behind her.
"I already have the top bunk." Sanders sips from her embarrassingly large mug with the text 'World's Best Girlfriend' printed on it. Valentines special from the dollar store. MacArthur stared at her in disbelief, before looking back up at the bed, which was already neatly made, suitcase placed on top perfectly, waiting to be unpacked.
"Oh. Well you could've started building the shoe rack. Brigadier Meow can't do it himself."
"Speaking of Brigadier...do you have his bed? I think it should go next to ours." said cat waddled out of the reinforced carrier, tail lazily swishing behind him. As his bed was placed at the foot of the bunk bed, he approached it. His black speckled nose twitched as he sniffed the plush, bowl-shaped bed. A rare light turned on in his small head, just for a second, before it flicked back off. His stubby ginger legs took him over to the draughty windowsill, and he plopped himself down onto it.
"Great. I bought that bed for $18. Just for him to choose the windowsill." Sanders sighed, taking another sip from her mug.
"It's because he has no class and no respect for us. He doesn't even listen when I tell him to sit or roll over!"
"Uh, he's not a dog, and he's deaf, obviously he can't hear you MacArthur. And stop being so mean to him, you love him really."
MacArthur looks fondly at the ginger cat who was currently loafing on the cold ledge, and whispered in a soft voice, "He looked sad at the shelter..."
Sanders smiled as she pet him. He meowed loudly, pressing his fluffy head into her palm.
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"This is the third time Brigadier's asked for food in an hour. He's not even a kitten anymore! I think he needs a diet plan..."
MacArthur rubbed her forehead as the fat cat rubbed himself against their legs, begging for his bowl to be full again. She scoops him up, grunting slightly as she did so, "He's just big boned! Don't body-shame the brigadier. He needs food to grow." she set him down on her bunk, the metal bending slightly under his weight.
"We need to get him a forklift. if he gets any bigger he'll be legally classed as the 9th planet."
A rattling noise came from the door as a key turned in the lock and a blonde head poked into the room.
"FREEZE TRESPASSER!" MacArthur shouts on instinct, taser drawn and aimed at the intruder.
"Dude! Chill! I just wanna put my guitar down!" the blonde puts his hands by his head, one palm showing, the other holding an electric guitar in it's case. Sanders put her hand on MacArthur's shoulder, silently telling her to calm down. Sanders steps forward, hands now on her hips, eyes searching the man's face for any sign of malice. There was none to be found, just a confused, slightly scared look in his eyes.
"How did you get in here? We locked the door after we came in." she asks cautiously.
"Uh, this office lady gave me a key."
"Are you sure you got the right room number?"
"I dunno, I'm not good with maths. I'm better with my guitar. She said Room 11, but I guess I counted wrong. Heh, sorry."
"No, no, you're in the right room. That explains the extra bed then. Come in. MacArthur put the taser down."
"Oh yeah! Rock and roll!" he did some air guitar in the doorway before making his way over to the bed under the window. Brigadier Meow gave him a lazy glance and farted. Warm welcome from him.
"You got a cat too? Sweet! It like music?"
MacArthur stared at him for moment, then crossed her arms and stated, "He's deaf."
"Oh." he looked down, feeling a bit awkward. He fiddled with a guitar pick in his fingers, not bothering to unpack his stuff out of his backpack.
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"Gah- Brigadier Meow! You *pant* sir, are way too heavy to be cuddling on my chest right now... Sanderssss....get him off me."
There was no response from the top bunk. It was lights out after all.