#i made tobey a bit of a brat and im sorry

[justsleepyrune]

@fallenlondonficswap @thedandy-detective

I have no idea what Tobey’s like, but have a dog fueled misadventure! For the secret swap!

General rating | Tobey, Brett, the Grubby Kitten | 1040 words

“Tobey, come here, you can’t just run away,” Brett sighed, watching the small terrier stumble about, little legs trotting in the most abstract of lines. “We’ve got plans, remember?” 

The terrier didn’t listen, continuing to wind about. Perhaps he had his own plans, something involving tracing every fifteenth cobblestone as he wobbled about. Brett followed, easily keeping up pace with his dog, still not reaching to grab him. “This case is an important one,” he began to lecture. Tobey didn’t care. His nose twitched in the air. He darted away, following the winding path of the delicious scent that he had caught. 

See, Brett was a detective. Brett could solve a case, put clues together, chase down the faintest of evidence trails. Tobey was not. Indeed, it wasn’t clear if Tobey was even aware half of the time, as absinthe drenched as he managed to be. However, there was one thing that Tobey was excellent at, just the same as his owner. Tracking down whatever trail had caught his interest.

This, of course, wasn’t anything like a case. No, Tobey had caught the scent of ham. Tinned ham, specifically, an abomination of dubious origin, but one that certainly still smelled like meat. 

“Tobey, come back!” Brett was already falling behind him. Tobey wondered, for a moment, whether he should wait for him. However, he was far more focused on running in a straight line, not tripping over a stray cobblestone or a random passerby’s foot. 

His feet skid, barely retaining traction on the paved street. He looked back, just for a moment, to watch his owner nearly collide into two women on a stroll, only to collide into someone himself.

He hit the small kitten full speed, bowling her over and sending himself toppling over too. They flopped into the entryway of a small, grimy pawnshop, each window boarded over twice. Tobey huffed, trying to decide which direction was up. That one. No, actually, it was this one. He stood, shaking himself off.

The Grubby Kitten watched him, green eyes wide as she skittered backwards, ears flattening as she hissed in disapproval at his clumsiness. In a similar accent to a few of the urchins he had seen throwing rocks from the rooftops, she began to scold him. Something about how she wouldn’t expect much from a dreary creature as himself, but he was miserably failing even the lowest of expectations.

Tobey blinked. He wondered if he should be listening. He’d caught the scent of tinned ham again. He began to inch  away, stepping backwards, hoping to escape the shrill kitten’s long winded speech.

Suddenly he was being yanked upwards, his sense of direction scrambling in three different directions, finally collapsing back together as he was pulled to Brett’s chest. “I told you not to run off,” Brett sighed. He sounded a little out of breath. “I just ran into such a lovely couple, nearly spilled the poor woman’s tea all over her, and then,” Tobey tuned him out, trying to wriggle away again. While he couldn’t decide which way was down, he was pretty convinced that it involved getting away from Brett’s firm grip.

“Keep a better eye on ‘ur pup,” the Grubby Kitten hissed, prancing a little, as if she was older and more respectable than her small size and general bedraggled nature betrayed. 

Brett paused, before looking for a safe spot in the entryway to take a seat, safe from the general grime. Finally he found one, carefully sitting, Tobey still struggling in his arms. “Er, I’m very sorry, ma’am.” 

The Grubby Kitten sniffed, head held high in the air. Tobey swung his head back and forth, before attacking Brett’s arm with ineffectual headbutts and kisses. Brett barely blinked. “He knocked into me,” she grumbled, pacing again. Back and forth, she weaved, circling Brett, still watching him with big green eyes. “Don’t want any ‘alf-wit, useless apologies.”

Tobey rather thought that she was a dreadful creature. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t been looking where he’d been going, he hardly remembered to look at all half the time. But Brett smiled, because his owner was kind. His owner had always been far too kind. “Might I offer a secret, in exchange for your forgiveness? He can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

The kitten paused, tail flicking up as she considered, eyes alight with the idea of making a real trade. “I suppose I could forgive ‘im, just this once,” she finally grumbled. 

“Thank you, miss,” Brett smiled. She hissed a little at his smile. It was almost pathetically adorable, Tobey thought. She may have been dreadful, but she had some half of the skill that he’d learned early, of looking as cute as possible when a mess. In his case, drenched in absinthe. In hers, being an utter brat, filthy, and looking like something that had slept in the gutter. Obviously, Brett had much more refined tastes. Still, Tobey’s owner leaned down, pulling Tobey away from his reach for a moment, to whisper some secret in the kitten’s ear. 

Tobey’s owner was forever too kind.

The kitten’s tail flicked back and forth as she listened, before scampering two steps back, as if afraid that he would snatch it away in an instant. “You’re forgiven,” she sniffed, looking to Tobey. “Watch where ‘ur goin’ next time.” He wouldn’t. In fact, he thought that he’d barrel into her even harder. Even if, at the moment, he couldn’t quite decide where she was. 

He’d figure it out.

Brett stood again, saying a polite farewell to the kitten, who bolted before he’d even halfway finished. Urchin pets. They never had many manners. Tobey squirmed upwards, licking Brett’s face, as they walked away.

“Goodness, alright,” his owner sighed, scratching behind his ears, before begrudgingly setting him down. “If you’ll stop fighting our feline friends, let’s get on with our plans? I can’t miss this interview. It took a lot to get the devilless to agree to a meeting, I don’t think she’ll accept tardiness. Besides,” and Tobey had stopped listening, having caught the scent of tinned ham again. 

He bolted once more, ignoring the shout of his exasperated owner behind him. He was hungry and he had a ham to track down.