Bribes of Tea

"So you can look after him for me?" Arthur asked over the rim of his tea cup.

Francis nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I can mon cher, how hard could it be?"

--- ---

Francis regretted those words… how hard could it be?

When his boyfriend Arthur had come to him asking one special favour of him while he was away, that he look after his beloved Scottish Fold tom, he had been quick to agree to it but now he wished for nothing more than the nightmare to be over. Mr Darcy, or Darcy boy as Arthur affectionately dubbed him, hated Francis. The tom would sit at three in the morning and 'sing' to Francis in his little old man voice until he got up, only to flounce away a minute later as if he were annoyed by his presence.  The tom would yowl and hiss and make a fuss if Francis so much as tried to pet him, he would grumble at him if he were late with food and recently he had taken to deliberately sleeping on every dark article of clothing Francis owned. Mr Darcy was the cat from Hell.

"Hey boy." Francis greeted the ginger and white cat as he stepped into his apartment.

Expectantly, Mr Darcy gave him a snort and disregarding flick of his tail which, Francis ignored.

"Yes, I know, you wanted me to be Anglettere."

Another grumpy meow, if it could be called that.

"Yes, yes, I know you prefer him over me but he's gone for a week so you're just going to have to accept it. I'm your temporary guardian."

Mr Darcy gave one last grumpy sigh before he trotted off, most likely to go and lay on Francis' brand new black trousers, and left Francis to kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. Just for fun, Francis talked to the cat… he knew Mr Darcy couldn't answer back and, heck, probably couldn't even understand him but he still did it. Something about the Scottish Fold reminded him of his master.

"It's the old man meow," Francis grinned as he retreated to the kitchen to brew himself some calming peppermint tea, "It sounds like Arthur when he's being grumpy."

He hummed the tune to Saint Laurent under his breath as the kettle boiled, setting out a cold porcelain cup for his tea in his wait. He then dumped the tea bag in, poured the hot water and added a dollop of milk before taking his beverage into the lounge and sinking into his favourite chair. Next to him was A Midsummer Night's Dream which was bookmarked to the halfway point. Francis reached for his book and took a sip of tea. How relaxing.

He had just started to fully unwind from his day when he heard a peculiar sound, merfufow…  followed by a small snort. Mr Darcy… how lovely, Francis peered over his book to see the disgruntled tom sitting with his ginger tail curled over his paws, green eyes expectant.

"What is it?" He asked the feline.

Merfufow. Snort. How dare you make tea without me, you git.

"Now, now Mr Darcy, I think that's no way to treat your host." The Frenchman chuckled.

The tom stared pointedly at the cup in Francis' hand. Ah, so that's what he wanted Francis thought. Suddenly he had an idea… one that could ultimately end with his eyes being clawed out or with a reluctant friendship from the small tom cat.

"So this is what you want?" He swirled the tea cup slightly so the liquid inside hit the edge with a sloshing sound. Mr Darcy's ears pricked. "If you want it… come and get it."

Mr Darcy cocked his head, green eyes narrowed, as he seemingly weighed up his options. Tea or no tea, make contact or go without? The scent of peppermint must have won over because a moment later, the ginger and white cat was taking tentative steps over to Francis' chair.

"Good boy…" He cooed as the cat got close enough to pet.

Legs hunched under him as Mr Darcy leapt up to rest in Francis' lap. A smirk of triumph flashed over Francis' face as he swirled the tea cup again. Folded ears perked and green eyes shifted wearily from the tea cup to Francis.

"It's quite delicious actually," Francis grinned, "Brewed to perfection…"

He was closer now, resting his paws up on Francis' chest. He stretched his neck until he was eye level with Francis and then, eyes darting from him to the tea, he delicately leant in and lapped at the tea. Francis grinned as the cat continued his treat of tea and slowly, trying not to scare him off, he brought a hand up and rested it against Mr Darcy's back.

Merufow? This time it was a question. Why are you touching me you bloody frog?

"See, not so bad."

Mr Darcy had tensed the moment Francis' hand had come to rest on his back. Green eyes analysed the one that currently toyed with forced he did not know, very sharp claws.

"The tea's good, non?"

A moment more of analysing before the Scottish Fold decided to let it slide, he would forgive the human when he was bearing the gift of tea, before he buried his chubby face back into the cup. Finally, when he could no longer reach any liquid, he met Francis' sapphire blue eyes… and sneezed.

Francis, who had been gently petting him this whole time, was less than thrilled with his new 'buddy's' behaviour. "Mon Dieu!"

The tom followed it up by leaping back into his lap, right over where his Eiffel Tower lay, and sinking his claws in.

Merfufow. Small grumble. I didn't ask to be petted now, did I, you wanker.

A reminder as to who was in charge of these reluctant living arrangements and it was Mr Darcy that was getting all the say.

Francis winced and watched at the tom leaped delicately back to the floor and padded off down the halls, perhaps to go and sit all over Francis' favourite evening coat.

--- ---

"So how was he?" Arthur asked. The Brit had just arrived back into France after his stay in England.

"Oh… Mr Darcy?" The Frenchman smiled and sipped his peppermint tea. "He was fantastic, no problems at all, mon amour."

"Oh good!"

Just then Mr Darcy trotted into the kitchen and inhaled, eyes lighting up at the scent of peppermint tea.

Francis' smile turned into a smirk as he sloshed his tea. "He's been nothing less than an angel."