Author: Kat Lee
Fandoms: Guardians of the Galaxy/Aristocats
Character/Pairing: Thomas/Duchess, one-sided Rocket/Duchess, Scat Cat and his entire Gang
Challenge/Prompt: fffc Amnesty: 10: Animal
Word Count: 2,182
Date Written: 18 July 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Smoke is thick in the bar room along with a myriad of other smells, but the beer is good, the bartender doesn't ask any questions, and no one's given him a side eye or even a glance since he entered this place. He, however, has been glancing at many of them. He's not sure what world this is, and he has a feeling he's traveled in time as well. He hasn't seen anything hinting to modern day, not that he could tell anything much from the other clientele in this place.
Rocket's bushy tail sways in the air behind him as more aliens enter, bringing his eyes up to them. Just like all the rest, they're not wearing any clothing, and they walk on all fours. They're definitely primitive, even if he hasn't been thrown back in time. And they all look basically the same. There's no wonder no one's noticed him, because every cat he's seen enter this place in the last few hours has been exactly that -- a cat, or at least looked a damn lot like the pictures he's seen.
It's easy for a guy who looks like a blasted raccoon -- even if he will tear off the face of anyone stupid enough to call him that -- to get lost in this place. There are no humans, or even two leggers, anywhere to be seen, and the thick smoke and other scents hide his aroma well. It shouldn't be a problem waiting here for Quinn and the rest to finally get off their asses and find him.
It shouldn't be a problem . . . The smoke parts, and suddenly, Rocket can see clearly again. There's still nobody looking at him, but then his own eyes catch sight of a beauty who holds him mesmerized for a moment. She's as rest primitive as the rest, but there's a shine to her lovely, white fur that makes her shimmer in this place like a spaceship fully decked out in chrome. His tail jerks.
She's playing some kind of instrument, and he realizes that she's hanging with the band whose music he's been listening to for the last several hours. They're not bad, especially for a bunch of primitive four-leggers, but she is absolutely . . . marvelous? mesmerizing? What word would he use to describe her?
She pauses in playing the stringed instrument and looks through the parting smoke and straight into his eyes. Rocket's tail bushes out, and he's jumped to his feet before he even realizes he's moving. He hasn't seen such beautiful eyes in a very long time. Hell, he hasn't seen such a beautiful dame in just as long. It seems like he's been cooped up here on this strange world for months instead of days.
The smoke whirls around him along with a rather sweet odor that he doesn't recognize. It plays with his nose, and for a moment, he has trouble locating the dame. Then he manages to catch a stray glimpse of her through the drifting smoke. He quickens his pace and jumps up onto the stool next to her. "Hey, baby," he playfully growls, "how about you and me making some beautiful music together?" His tail reaches out and touches her.
"Oh my!" the beautiful stranger cries in shock, withdrawing her tail and curling it around her back legs.
"Hey, dude! Hands off! Duchess is taken!"
"You're a duchess?" Rocket asks. "No wonder you grabbed my attention with just one look! Baby, let me tell you: Being royalty on this planet ain't much, but I can take you to places beyond your wildest dreams where they'll worship you!"
The pure white cat holds a paw before her mouth. Rocket can't tell for sure, but he thinks she might be blushing. "Why, sir -- Your offer is tempting, but I'm a married woman."
"Ha!" Rocket grins broadly. "When did that ever stop anybody, baby?"
Her mouth falls open, and before she can speak again, a voice hisses up from the floor. "Hey, that's my seat!"
"And your woman, Thomas, my man! That raccoon's moving on your wife!"
Rocket bristles. His furry lips draw back away from his teeth as he reveals his fangs. "Who the fark just called me a raccoon?!"
"It's what you are, ain't it, dude?"
"I don't care what you are! Get out of my seat, and leave my lady alone!"
"I'M NOT NO DAMN RACCOON! TAKE THAT BACK!" Rocket leaps through the air and comes down, clawing and biting, quite uncivilized himself, upon a bushy, gray cat. The cat struggles beneath him, but after a moment, he manages to kick both his hind feet up into Rocket's belly and throw him off of him. Rocket lands on his feet and starts to jump again, but four more cats are now surrounding the first one who dared to call him a raccoon.
"My friend," an even bigger, dark gray cat says, "you do not want this fight."
"He's the one who picked the fight! He called me a farking raccoon!"
Rocket leaps at the cat again, who he's now beginning to think might be the band's leader, but before he can reach him again, a Siamese cat reaches out with swift reflexes and clamps his head hard between two brightly shining pieces of metal. It rings pain throughout Rocket's skull, causing the raccoon to stammer and stumble backwards.
"We don't want a fight," says the same voice who had first spoken to him from the floor, "but we will not tolerate being attacked or Duchess' honor being affronted."
"Thomas, he didn't know he was doing any harm! I had barely managed to tell him I'm wed!" Duchess' tail swishes in the steamy air. "It's not like we wear rings like the humans! He could not have known!"
"He's still going to apologize -- "
"I ain't apologizing for crap, dude!"
The Siamese hits him with one of the metal pieces that Rocket vaguely recognizes as a primitive, musical device straight in the mouth. "Damn! You're lucky I don't have my weapons!" And of all the luck for him to have! Not only did he have to fall through some stupid time warp that Quinn had accidentally opened and into another dimension and time, but he had just tossed away his last, emptied gun when it had happened and hadn't had a chance to grab any other weaponry before he'd been sucked away from his team! And now the one glimmer of interest he's really had in this place has to be married and be a farking honorable woman, at that!
The Siamese cat laughs as the room finally stops spinning for Rocket. "Gimme that!" he demands, yanking the cymbals out of the cat's paws, and slapping him with them!
"That's it!" one of the other cats cries.
"Yeah!" agrees another. "He can't do Scat, Si, and Thomas like that!"
"He's not doing any of us like that, man, let alone three of us!"
"Consider him got," the large, Russian gray announces, slamming a huge tuba over Rocket's head. He starts to hold him pinned, but he's ill prepared for someone as fast and vicious as the raccoon. Rocket quickly breaks free of the tuba, knocking the Russian backwards with it, and is preparing to stand his ground when he realizes that every cat in the bar room, except the Duchess, is now glowering at him, arching their backs, and fluffing their tails.
"FARK! FARK! FARK!" Knowing he has no weapons and seeing the plethora of felines quickly gathering all around him, Rocket starts to run. Yowling threats, the cats take off right after him. They chase him from the bar and through the cobblestone streets. The first human he's seen in days screeches and nearly throws up her skirts as Rocket runs by her.
"Ain't got time to stop, baby!" he calls back over his shoulder and keeps running and glancing around him for any sign of a weapon he can use.
"CLEAR THE WAY!" he hears the Russian thunder and dares not look back until a sudden, rapidly clanging sound of metal against metal makes him look back. He grimaces and picks up his speed, but the piano runs right over him, a young, ginger cat high stepping on its keys the whole while. Rocket's just picking himself up when the Siamese hits him with his cymbals again.
When Si releases Rocket this time, Rocket's swaying from side to side and unable to focus . . . until he smells exhaust fume and hears the sound of a very familiar engine. "IT'S ABOUT FARKING TIME!"
He jumps out of the way just as five cats jump where he stood a second before and roll into a flashing ball of spitting, biting mouths and scratching claws. Somebody's tail gets bitten, and the poor cat yowls, "I'M NOT THE ENEMY!" They finally roll apart and look again just as Rocket runs up the opening door and onto the spaceship.
He grabs the nearest gun and is just about to fire it when Drax yanks him up. His shots miss, but the cats scatter nonetheless. The one called Thomas stops, spits, and yowls as he jumps backwards and holds Duchess down to the pavement. The shots pass harmlessly over all of them. "WHAT THE FARK?!" Rocket demands of the alien towering above him and effortlessly pinning his shoulders together with one hand.
"You will not harm innocent animals," Drax answers simply.
"Man, where were you?! They were harming me! They were totally kicking my tail, because you idiots let me fall into a time warp and -- AND ARE YOU PLAYING FARKING MUSIC NOW ABOUT A TIME WARP?! QUILL!"
Star Lord grins innocently and broadly at Rocket. "Sorry, buddy."
"YOU SO ARE NOT SORRY! HEY! HOLD IT!" he bellows, but the spaceship's door is already shutting.
He looks back down at the beautiful, white cat being held safely by her husband. "I COULD HAVE SHOWN YOU THE GALAXY!"
"You were doing a cat?!" Quill laughs. "Man, you were desperate!"
Rocket growls at him. Drax shakes him. "Do not assault our team mates."
"Man, he insulted me first!"
"How? By speaking the truth? You had romantic illusions toward the cat."
"They weren't illusions! I could've showed her a good time! It didn't matter that she was married!"
"She was married?" Gamora asks. "You got chased, attacked, and nearly defeated -- "
"I would've slaughtered them if I had my weapons!"
" -- all because you made advances on a married cat?!"
"That's beside the point! She didn't know what she was missing!"
Drax laughs, the deep sound resonating throughout the spaceship as he holds his hands, having released Rocket, to his belly. "And you say you are not animal!"
Rocket rolls into a ball of frenzy, snarling, biting, and scratching. Drax just keeps laughing underneath his attack until Rocket begins to fire up a gun. It's Gamora who swiftly takes the gun from his paws as Quill hollers, "EVERYBODY, CALM DOWN! I'M TRYING TO DRIVE THIS DAMN THING, OR DO YOU WANT TO DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN?!"
"SHUT UP!" Rocket snarls even as Gamora lifts a strange, shining, metal object that she hasn't noticed before and slaps it over Rocket's head with precision, knocking him unconscious and successfully, finally calming his temperament.
Back on Earth, Thomas gently bathes Duchess. "Perhaps he could have done that, you know," he says, licking her dainty, white paws.
"What?" she asks, puzzled.
"Shown you the world."
"Thomas, I don't want to see the world." She licks the side of his handsome, furry face and nuzzles him. "I only ever want to see anything with you, my darrrrling." She purrs, and he settles down, wrapping himself around her, content at last -- and completely missing his Siamese friend's disappointed sniffling.
"It's all right, Si," says one of the other cats, licking his face and trying to calm him.
"Dude, that was my best cymbal!"
"But you surrendered it for a valiant cause," the Russian declares.
"We'll replace it, Si," Scat Cat assures his band member, his long tail swishing. His curious gaze lifts to the darkening night sky pass the London lights. "But what was that thing?"
"A raccoon." The Russian laughs, and as his deep, warm, and reassuring laughter wraps around them, the rest of the band begins to laugh too.
"What a strange night!" Scat exclaims. "We should write something about it!" Beginning to thump out a beat with his paws on the pavement, he starts playing with words. "I saw a strange looking thing back at me. I couldn't tell if it was a raccoon or an alien -- "
"Maybe it was both," remarks one of the others.
" -- but whatever it was," Scat continues, "it was going down, down, down! Not my best work, but it's something to build on."
The Russian stares up at the stars that are millions and millions of miles away from them. "Everything is, boss," he says. He glances over at Thomas and Duchess, knowing their life together will be long, happy, and fruitful, regardless of any aliens or raccoons. "Everything is."