Work Text:
Definitions
It was awful convenient.
T-Bone had managed to break-bruise?-his ribs, crawl into someone's apartment and collapse on a worn couch in agony.
And yet, he found himself recognizing the couch and its owner from a picture in the dark being illuminated by moonlight.
It can't be...
Before he could get enough wind in his belly to sneak off, keys turned in the lock and soft humming froze him.
Was that...what that a she-kat singing?
"Somedays, I really hate the weird stuff."
No way...
It was the sound of stuff hitting the floor that disrupted his senses: A duffle bag. Boots. A belt. A belt? As in pants that go to a belt?
The humming turned into the bridge of a verse from some vaguely familiar love song that filled the late night radio.
The realization that she was coming home and getting out of her Enforcer uniform slapped him.
His groan escaped him.
The sound of her freezing froze him.
And the sound of a safety going off a gun just wasn't going to make this night any easier.
"Why are you always on the business end of this?" Felina Feral demanded with her weapon trained on him in his Swat Kat guise. "I thought you were really an intruder."
Now with light flooding the apartment, his eyes got the whole view. From the pile of discarded clothing to the gun to the she-kat holding the gun.
Chance guessed one lieutenant captain of the Enforcers just got off work, undressed and must have reacted to whatever sound he made by drawing her weapon.
In lacy underwear.
To be such an eagle-eyed pilot, he should have been focused on escape routes and flying home in his condition.
His eyes, however, were trained on softness he didn't even know existed under the bulky standard issue uniform.
Inviting fabric.
Black.
Of course she would wear black.
It fit her aesthetic.
Chance, in his T-Bone guise, answered with his best sarcasm, dropping his stare. "Seems more like pleasure from this angle."
If she did react to his words, the lieutenant captain hid it well. "Didn't know breaking and entering was on your schedule." She secured her weapon then placed it in a small lock box in a nearby drawer.
"Didn't plan on breaking my ribs, but thanks to the giant plant we both spent the last hour fighting."
"You got tossed from the building?" She asked, looking horrified. She was on the roof with the Swat Kats when one of Viper's pets got the drop on him. A plant. A plant whooped him.
"Not tossed. Thrown like a rag doll." He forced himself to look up at the ceiling. Now it really did hurt to breathe. Good, maybe all that lustful panting would slow down. "I would move, but... pain …"
The Lieutenant Captain ran over to him and leaned down, pressing a careful paw to his side. "I see the rip in your flight suit. A little road rash too."
She also managed to press into Chance all the awareness that yes, she was not her uncle sporting a bad wig in the looks department. She was something otherworldly and feminine and she was driving his senses wild.
And was she trying to pull his flight suit off…?
"I don't think it's broken, but you for sure got a few good sized bruises."
"Good to hear, captain–" Great, she even smelled sweet like vanilla. Did she always wear perfume?
"Why didn't you give me a heads up? I wouldn't have drawn on you."
"Why did I see you more as a boy cut instead of a bikini?"
Now I speak my mind? Smooth move there, Hot Shot.
Felina jumped back, as if suddenly realizing she had been undressed in her living room the whole time with him. The tom kat.
An unreadable look passed her face as she spun around and grabbed something from the floor.
An Enforcer shirt hit him in the face. "Oww!"
"I'm scrubbing my day off, Mr. SK. Choose to do with that information what you will."
Choose what? How to die? Or which form of torture you want to inflict?
Withering in pain, Chance managed to tap out an SOS on his Glovotrix to Jake between the struggle to ignore the shower running.
What was his deal?
Only a few months ago, he was trashing Felina's stubbornness and not getting past her being Feral's niece. But here, she had his interest pique.
Yes, interest. We'll call it that.
Well, blood flow wasn't any issue.
Footsteps got him to lift his head.
Now wearing a deep purple silk robe with the sash tied, she bounced up to him. "Can you move?"
He rolled his eyes. Of course, everything bounced.
Chance tried standing, but that wasn't happening. He dropped back to the couch. "Barely."
"I still call bruises ribs, but I don't think you should move for a little while. " She leaned over him again. "Here, stretch out on your back. I think the fall knocked the literal wind out of you."
He closed his eyes and obeyed. Her hair was tickling his face, now she smelled like honey. Had to be shampoo or body wash or a magic potion...he opened his eyes again. Yep, she was still real. Still had him questioning if he was willing to lose life or limb by pulling her by the waist toward him, the gap in her robe revealing so much more...
"Look, if you can behave yourself, you may stay on the couch until you can escape in a few hours." The captain straightened up, her arms folded. "Sometimes, Uncle randomly drops by."
"And if I like being bad?" He had to let one last barb out. Die a happy tom at least with one less life.
"There's a cure for that." She added darkly. "That one doesn't stay locked up."
So now he was terrified and turned on? Who in the Great Upstairs was toying with him?
"Wouldn't want you to cancel any of your plans because of little old me."
The thought of some other tom pawing at her suddenly bothered him. Most females didn't hangout in their really nice unmentionable without a reason. Most. He was also learning Lt. Feral wasn't most females. Then again, she was very much a female. Stupid sash.
"I came home to be comfortable in my own apartment without company."
"I tend to think I make great company."
She pulled her hair back into a messy updo. "Unfortunately for me, it's laundry day and this was the one clean thing in the back of the closet."
"Pity." He knew he had to be checking her out, his eyes gliding over curves he never knew existed within the lean muscle.
"That mouth works when the ribs don't. " She mused, her back to him as she walked away.
Chance already had a nice comeback geared up about his mouth when his mic started fizzing.
"Buddy?"
"Razor?" He whispered, forcing himself not to call Jake by name.
"Where are you?"
"Got a lock on my location?"
"Kinda. It looks like you're in one of these apartments below. I'm flying over."
"The Lieutenant Captain thinks I bruised my ribs instead of breaking them."
"The... wait a minute ...is that why you haven't answered me back?"
"It hurts to talk." Chance moaned. That and it hurt to be embarrassed by his own pheromones.
"Never stopped you." His buddy huffed. Yeah, maybe about the other thing too.
"Give me a few hours then extract."
"Oh and how do you plan on recovering during this time frame?"
"I'll manage." Chance squeaked out.
" Yeahhh, Razor out."
Great, awkward kinks here and even more awkward conversation waited for him after Jake found him.
Why didn't he just black out first?
Startled, Chance came to and remembered he hadn't died. He also had to scold himself for having an active imagination.
The apartment was quiet sans the sound of scratching.
He dared look over.
Felina had draped herself over a loveseat a few feet away. Her concentration on what appeared to be a black notebook and colored pencils. That sash had to be super strong because it still held it all together. Except for her legs. He just had to zero on those, didn't he?
"Wanna draw me like one of your French girls?" He decided letting her know he was conscious would serve him better.
"Cute." She paused to regard him. "And I hated that movie by the way."
"Really? All the she-kats I know just went gaga."
"Yeah, I rooted for the iceberg more. Three hours of that." She resumed her task. "You talk in your sleep by the way."
"Do not."
"Do to." She smirked.
"So what did I say?"
She paused. Was her face red? "Nothing fit for a kit's ears for sure."
"Oh really?" Well, the dream was interesting...
"How do you feel?"
"Like I'm not in the second level of Hades, just the first."
"Got a ride?"
"Yeah and she's reliable, but my partner needs to land her on the roof."
"Shame. And here I was looking for more blackmail."
"I can always stay. Just return me to my plane in the morning."
"Ambitious to think you can stay all night."
"Just needed a recharge."
"Bruised ribs, sir."
"Only the ribs. Everything else works just fine."
"Confidence or arrogance, I can't figure which one."
"And yet, you're curious."
"Old saying. It killed the cat."
"Other saying: satisfaction brought it back."
"You seem to think I'm lacking."
"Never know what you're missing…" T-Bone saw his communicator light up. Great timing.
"Let's not keep your ride waiting." Felina closed the black notebook and stretched.
She was doing it again. Testing all his patience and piety. He could bury his face in her neck and just…
"Hey buddy, can you move?" The mic crackled again. "I'm on the roof."
No. "Maybe." He exhaled. "But, I may need help pretty please with sugar on top."
Felina walked over to him. As he squeezed his eyes shut, she helped him to his feet and guided him to the balcony.
"I owe you, lieutenant." The words came out. He feared she would leave him or call her uncle.
"I won't tell him you were here. And no, I didn't peek at your mask."
"I appreciate that."
A chord dropped from the sky. Razor was on the other end, the harness waiting.
"Oh and the next time you decide to creep in my place unnoticed, count on losing a life."
He shivered at the deadliness of the tone. That and the hint of sexiness. "Will do since you suggested there will be a next time."
He laid the smokiness on thick. Not that it was hard. Responding to her sexiness was ABCs and elementary.
With a turn, he watched her walk away and lock her balcony door as the harness pulled him away.
Jake rocked on his heels as he worked on the Turbokat. Now fully recovered, Chance and Jake had made necessary repairs to the cars and shot the breeze before hitting the hangar. The subject of that night came up.
"Not funny, Clawson."
"What's not funny? You dying with a hard on?"
"She's gorgeous under all those clothes. Definitions and curves and...I should repent for all my dreams this week."
"I'll say."
"Jake, she's not ugly."
"Was she supposed to be?"
"Yes!"
Jake snorted in laughter again. "Sorry you didn't get your way–"
"How can I look her in the eye and not see lace and long legs?"
"Look her in the eye?" Jake shrugged.
"Grr, Clawson," He threw a wrench down. "This tanks." Chance waved his arms in the air. "Tanks!"
"Alright, alright-" Jake rolled his eyes. "So dramatic–" The shorter tom tossed him a clean towel. "What's your play? You know since you've already seen more than enough of her."
"I don't know."
"Have you decided to go out?"
"Go out?"
"Chance Furlong is working the nerve up to ask her out while T-Bone already got past first base."
"I didn't–" Chance tossed the towel at him. "Shut up."
Jake continued to smother his laughs down.
Definitions were exactly what were needed.
Because he had to call whatever he was feeling for her something