This one's just sweet. It was written from prompt words: Cyril, cat, were___, murder
I know, I know…murder…were___? This is a sweet story? Just read it if you don't believe me :-D …
The Joke's on Tanner
Cyril drained the last of the pale ale and set the bottle down on the bar carefully. Friday the frigging thirteenth; he hated it. Tanner knew how superstitious he was, and teased him by treating Friday the thirteenth like it was April the first, thus necessitating Cyril's need to stop on the way home for a little fortification.
The first year they'd been together Tanner had pulled out all the stops. Tanner'd been working as an extra on a cheesy horror flick. He'd buddied up with one of the werewolf extras and had the man hiding, in full costume, in their kitchen. The man had pounced out at him when he'd walked in. Cyril'd fallen back in shock and was only thankful he'd not messed himself from the fright. Tanner'd almost died laughing.
Tanner kept it interesting by skipping the ritual now and then. Cyril never knew if he was going to walk in on an elaborately staged murder scene, an apartment mined with booby traps, or nothing at all. So when he finally found himself standing in front of their apartment door, key in hand, he was feeling more than a little jumpy.
He opened the door carefully and peered inside. Nothing. All was quiet. He knew that didn't mean there wasn't a surprise lurking for him, but at least he could safely step into his own living room. He closed the door behind him.
"Tanner? You home?" Cyril hollered in the direction of the hallway.
He heard a noise, then Tanner came out of the bedroom to greet him. It was what was be-bopping along in front of Tanner that caught Cyril's attention, though.
A cat? No, more like a kitten. A solid coal black little kitten, running straight for him. And it was absolutely adorable.
Cyril couldn't resist a grin at the kitten's antics, poor little thing was tripping all over itself trying to run. He crouched down and put a hand out to the kitten.
"What's its name, Tanner?"
"Uh, it's not named yet. Figured I let you name her."
The kitten reached his hand and he played with her, teasing her into running around in circles.
"She sure is sweet."
"How about 'Pumpkin'?"
Tanner made a face. "Gag me. You know that's a black cat."
"It's crossing your path. Back and forth. Like at least ten times already."
"And it's Friday the thirteenth."
"She's too cute to be bad luck."
"That all you had for me this time? An adorable kitty?"
Tanner rolled his eyes. "We're not calling it 'Pumpkin'."
"I know. Lucky. That's her name."
Tanner squatted down across from him and joined in, playing with the kitten. "She is lucky. She was on 'death row' at the pound."
"Poor thing. I'm glad you saved her."
Tanner looked at him with a lopsided grin. "Yeah, me too. Even if it didn't work out quite like I'd hoped."
Cyril leaned across for a quick kiss. Didn't end up being quick though. Tanner's free hand moved up to cup the side of his face and hold him in place.
He was pretty lucky himself.
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