Thinking about newly retired Simon trying to figure out what to do with himself. He somehow gets roped into visiting the cat cafe you own (it’s Johnny’s idea). He intimidates the hell out of you at first, but you smile and make tea and try not to laugh at how ridiculous you feel handing this imposing, silent man a fuzzy pink worm on string toy.
He slowly becomes a regular, he arrives once a week like clockwork, orders a tea, takes the goofy ass fuzzy worm from you, and sits in the cat room for his hour time slot. On slow days you let him overstay his time. He doesn’t seem to notice and you don’t mind his presence.
He’s a little odd. Simon will play with the cats no problem, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself when they crawl on him. You try not to smile too big when you catch it, this hulking man staring down at a tiny tabby making biscuits on his thigh like it’s a bomb he’s trying to diffuse. You don’t push him though, there’s a skittish energy about him.
Like a newly captured feral stray trying to figure out how to be a housecat for the first time. You don’t want to get too eager and startle him off, so you keep your distance.
That’s until Bucky arrives.
Bucky is an objectively ugly cat. A long feral black tomcat with round cheeks and a heavily scarred, sort of flat face. He’s missing his left eye, most of his left ear, and his left leg. Your coworker named him after the marvel character for his missing limb, but it’s a fitting name nonetheless.
You find him heartbreakingly adorable, this skrungly ass cat with a meow like a smoker’s cough and a snaggletooth canine that pokes out of his mouth. He hisses at you, but will lean into your hand or crawl into your lap in the same breath. He wants affection so, so badly but is terrified to seek it out.
He reminds you of your regular in the worst way.
You have Simon’s tea waiting when he arrives, the man arrives at the same time down to the minute every week. It’d be creepy if you didn’t find it so weirdly endearing. You hand him the cup and lean in whispering conspiratorially “we got someone new, I think you’re gonna like him”. He raises an eyebrow at you “that so?” You nod emphatically. “Want me to introduce you two?” Simon actually chuckles at that, little more than a soft exhale behind his surgical mask. “Lead the way”.
You walk ahead of him to the cat room and open the door leading him towards the back area full of beds. A single ear and single eye greet you from inside a hideaway. You sit on the floor and click your tongue softly. The cat in question ambles out, beelining for your lap. “This is Bucky, I think you two are gonna get along famously.”
Bucky does his usual routine of hissing followed by incessantly head butting your hand for pets. Simon watches, truly perplexed for a moment before he too takes a seat on the padded floor. Bucky makes his way over with his less than graceful hobbling. Simon reaches out to pet him and Bucky hisses. Before Simon can pull his hand away Bucky is shoving his face into the tall man’s arm. Simon looks at you uncertainly and you gesture for him to pet the little furball.
“Go on, he’s all talk. He actually seems to like people and is very mad about it. Been doing this the whole time he’s been here. I don’t really understand it, but it’s not an uncommon behavior in ferals.” You explain, reaching over to pet Bucky yourself. He predictably, hisses at your hand before shoving his head under your fingers.
Simon is smiling, you can tell by how his eyes crinkle above the mask. “Ornery little shit” you giggle watching Bucky all but bowling ball roll his way into Simon’s lap. Hissing and spitting all the while, then laying down and purring like a motorboat with a bad engine. You sit in comfortable silence for a good while, just you and him and a sad little dumpster cat until the bell above the door rings. You straighten and stand up “hang out for as long as you’d like, I’ll be around if you need anything.”
Simon stays until close that day, just hanging out on the floor with Bucky. You bring him the pink fuzzy worm and watch with delight as they play. Simon walks out with you, pausing to watch your back while you lock up for the night. “Y’know, he’ll be up for adoption in a week or two. If you wanted to put in an application.” He shifts his weight “I’ll think about it.” You smile and nod “please do, but just know if you do adopt him I’m gonna need updates on how he’s doing.” Simon does that soft little laugh again.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Two weeks later and Bucky is going home with Simon, hissing in his carrier the whole way there
