Happy Hour, Cubefall Edition!

[ikissdhimbck]

It's been a pleasant enough month. After all the hullabaloo of the Shindig cleared out, Kate took some time to herself to relax. She's been around, in and out of the stables as usual, but mostly sticking to the libraries and her room.

She's pleased when she comes downstairs and gets a reminder of just what the date is.

The familiar screen pops up:

Hello! Welcome to Milliways. Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations? (y/n)





Kate grins, taking some time to pore over the choices. The robot is a little unsettling; the horse is tempting. She was a fella two years back for the holiday, and she actually quite enjoyed the experience. Folk always like to compare what a woman can do to what a man can do. Getting some actual idea of what the differences really are...

She chews on her lip, and hits the series of buttons it takes to reconfigure her. Hell if she won't have some more fun with this.

When it's done, a napkin pops up on the Bar.

"Y'jus' like askin' me when I'm tall 'nough t'reach the shelves, don't you?" 'he' grumbles, not without amusement.

He leaps over the counter spryly, and quickly scribbles up a few specials.

Happy Hour Specials:

Robot Cocktail
Fluffy Duck
Gender Bender Shooter
Bourbon
Ice Cream
Bourbon Ice Cream

Build something for half off your drink, and an extra shot of good luck.

"Bar's open! Yeehaw."


[ooc: Open until the next Happy Hour post, or until it scrolls off the front page. All are welcome, threadhopping is encouraged, zaniness is practically required. Have fun! ^__^]

Comments

[ikissdhimbck]

"Aww."

This is how Kate chooses to respond to your statement, Ben Hawkins. It's possible that he is, in fact, an asshole.

He lifts him off the bar stool, cradling him tenderly in his man-hands.

"Maybe next time y'won't be such a sourpuss."

Sourpussy.

"You're still all bone, boy. What have y'been doin' without me all this while?"

[til_it_aint]

Ben goes limp in Kate's hands, choosing passive resistance over actually biting him or getting any more irritated with those claws. The fact is that Kate -- if it is Kate, which he is still not one hundred percent sure about -- is a lady and even if he looks like a man right now, Ben is sure as anything not going to raise a hand to her.

Paw.

Whatever. He answers Kate's question with a rusty miaow, trying as hard as possible to communicate the idea that he's always been skinny, it's just what he looks like and sometimes the dreams leave him with blood and gunpowder in his mouth and when they don't there's money to think of, so really the lady-man ought to just find some way to turn Ben back and then leave him somewhere to die of embarrassment.

Cats, he's beginning to learn, aren't great at communication. Kittens are even worse. He twitches his tail and snuggles into the hand a little deeper, scowling as fiercely as any feline.

[ikissdhimbck]

What Ben may not realize is he actually stumbled right on into the perfect animal transformation possible. Kate knows no creature, big or small, that can express indignation, annoyance, and blithe discontent as masterfully as a cat. It's the combination of pathetic mewling, ear twitching, and fussy tail flicking that gets the lion's share of his message across.

Kate arches an eyebrow, and clucks his tongue.

"Honestly, you'd complain if you was hung with a new rope. It ain't the end of the world, Ben Hawkins — speakin' of which, I'm awful glad t'see you well after all the hullabaloo this winter. Alive, skinny, an' sour's better'n dead."

He sets him down on the Bar, and shakes his head. He doesn't ask if he wants anything, neither does he give him any choice. He just digs up a saucer, and starts pouring cream in it.

[til_it_aint]

The other thing with being a kitten is that his kitten-self seems to do things almost on its own. Like how Kate totally doesn't take the situation seriously or understand how he is a kitten and that is the farthest thing from okay that could possibly be, and in response his ears flatten and his tail lashes from side to side and generally his whole body exudes angry.

But then he -- she? -- says how glad he is to see Ben, after all that's gone wrong and quite to his shock and embarrassment he begins to purr deep in his throat. Just for a moment before he swallows it down and leaps daintily off Kate's hand (slips for a moment, regains his balance, pretends it never happened), but it's a purr nonetheless. And it's making a spirited attempt to return as he buries his face in the saucer of cream.

It's thick, and rich and milky and creamy and perfect, and he's three-quarters of the way down when he finally remembers he's still annoyed at Kate. He lifts his head and and stares at the other man with what he hopes is an impassive expression. It feels slightly ruined by the cream mustache covering his mouth and dripping off his whiskers.

"Mraar," he tells her. "Rrrowr." You ain't got no call t'be findin' this funny.

"Mrrlp."

...but this is some damn good stuff.

He dives back into the saucer.

[ikissdhimbck]

Yeah, Kate's just gonna be over here, shaking in his boots.

Or, you know, grinning like a love-struck fool. He can't help it; not only is Ben eating, but he's an adorable kitten. Even if he is all bristles and barbs.

"Be ill-tempered all y'like, Ben. It ain't gonna change what is for the next three days."

He settles his elbows on the Bar, getting comfortable while he watches him eat. Skinny, raggedy little pussy. He could use a good brushing. Maybe even a bath. You know, Kate's got all manner of kitty amenities up in her room.

"Which means — you're gonna need someone t'look after you."

[til_it_aint]

Three days. Three days, hmph, yeah, and there's no way Ben is going to let it be that long. He'll figure something out. The bar is full of crazy weird people who can do crazy weird things, at least of 'em has to know how to turn him back. After all, it's not like it was his fault! He never asked to be a kitten. Okay, maybe he should have looked a little harder at what it was appeared on the bar, but he'd been thinking about breakfast. You can't blame a man for being a little distracted around breakfast.

He's licking the last of the cream from all along the edges of the dish when Kate starts musing aloud about how he's going to need someone to look after him. Ben jerks his head up and eyes the cowboy he needs to start thinking of as Kate in his mind, offers up a silent and open-mouthed hiss that would be about a hundred percent more fearsome if it didn't come complete with little cream driblets falling off his face.

"Mrrr," he informs the man sternly. "Mrrw yror merp."

Kate should hopefully be able to draw her own conclusions as to the meaning of that particular sentence. Ben feels he's made himself abundantly clear.

Just because he is a kitten does not mean he's not still a grown man.

[ikissdhimbck]

"Oh, I know, I know."

He sighs, laying his arms, crossed, over the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles. Sure, it puts his face right in range of that terrifyingly ferocious kitten's fearsome claws, but nobody ever said Kate wasn't a gambling man.

Gal.

Whatever.

"You're so big for your britches you'll need 'em let out. Ain't nobody, nohow, s'gonna take care'a Mister Ben Hawkins. But answer me one question."

There's a familiar sharpness in those blue eyes now, one eyebrow raised.

"How y'plan on openin' doors?"

[til_it_aint]

Ben opens his mouth.









And shuts it again.

As much as he absolutely hates to admit it, Kate might have a point there. Absent-mindedly he starts to lick his paws, using them to clean his face the way he's seen cats do occasionally as he thinks over the problem she's presented him with. It's definitely a knotty one. And this silly kitten brain, the brain that thinks cream is the best thing ever and does things like try and purr when it sees Kate is getting tired. Against his will, he yawns hugely.

This is just plain stupid. He's a grown man, he's Ben Hawkins, he's Mister Ben Hawkins, he's not...he's not a kitten that just wants cream and petting, he lives in a world he's had to fight against his whole life and even now and here, there are responsibilities he can't begin to imagine, and...

And somehow the bar underneath him is comfortable enough that he finds himself stretching out on it to think a little better, head accidentally nudging up against Kate's arm and maybe the rest of his body accidentally following until he's lying against her, eyes heavy.

"Mrrk," he says finally. It's quiet and a little defeated.

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate would never, ever tell you, Ben.

He would never tell you that you're wrong.

Because he's a big man, you see. No need to lord it over a body — in this case, a distractingly warm and fuzzy body — when he's right.

"I reckon you'll figure it out."

His voice is quiet, murmured through a smirk he can't hold back. That ain't the least of Ben Hawkins' problems, however. He's reaching out to pet the tuckered little guy, calloused hands warm and gentle, dragging from the crown of his head to his furry thigh.

[til_it_aint]

It's probably a good thing Ben can't see the smirk, or Kate would be picking tiny kitten teeth out of his knuckles. As it is he just makes a low grumbling sound in his throat -- not a purr, not a purr, it's a growl, really -- and flops over a little further mostly against his will. This body seems to have a mind of its own, he swears.

But...it's not like it doesn't feel good. Kate's fingers are big and warm and his hands just about span Ben's whole body, ruffling his fur in a way that makes Ben's eyes close and his legs wiggle in ecstasy. Sleep is coming down on him, he can feel it, but it's not the overwhelming dark tide that crashes down on his mind and sends him drowning into dreams, it's a smooth wave that feels like it's going to lift and carry him away, rocked gently in the embrace of quiet darkness and Kate's hands.

Do kittens dream? He wonders, tongue darting out to lick roughly at Kate's fingers, but eventually decides that it doesn't matter. He's safe here, warm and happy in a way he hasn't been in an age, and he's purring softly as he drops down into the gentleness of sleep.

[ikissdhimbck]

He isn't about to wake him, or let anybody else do the honors. After a quick inspection of the Bar, he figures out salt and pepper shakers make excellent last-minute barricades. A section of the Bar — about four stool widths — is closed off, and so long as Kate doesn't have any other customers he doesn't leave Ben's side.

It's growing late in his shift anyhow. The Miss should be waking any minute now, and once she does Kate will cradle the little guy in his arms, and carry him up the stairs to get some well-deserved sleep.


And when he wakes up, there will be cat toys.