#it's the only one tbh and atm it's under 1000 words lol

[thetomorrowshow]

sent to help

esh au masterlist (i'll update it soon i swear)

IT'S NORMAN TIME BABEYYYYYY! this part is set 6-8 months after 'poisoned rats'.

cw: references to past abuse

~

“Maybe you should get a cat.”

The suggestion comes from his therapist Nora one day, after an emotional session of beginning to unpack why Jimmy won’t let anyone touch his hair. He’d been running his hand on one of those pillows with the reversible sequins during the conversation, and he can imagine that petting a cat would be more comforting.

There’s Elle, of course. But Elle doesn’t really care much for being pet, and prefers being alone to Jimmy’s company, so that won’t work. He thinks about a service dog for a while (they certainly have the money for one and Jimmy has diagnoses that would make him eligible), but Scott’s allergic to dogs and it’s just not worth it.

He’d had a dog as a child. He doesn’t remember her very well.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants a cat. A young cat, maybe, a little baby of a cat for him to raise and train himself.

He’s scared, though. He’s very scared.

“I’m scared,” he admits to Scott one evening, on their way home from the animal shelter (Scott had leapt on the idea of another cat, had enthusiastically looked up shelters and volunteered to go with Jimmy to check things out).

Scott doesn’t answer immediately, checking his mirrors and over his shoulder as he merges into a busy lane. “Of what, love?”

Jimmy sighs, slumps in his seat. “Of. . . .” he breaks off, a little ashamed of his thoughts. “Never mind.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Because you’ll think I’m stupid,” he mutters.

Scott tsks. “I promise I won’t.”

Scott hasn’t made a joke about something important to Jimmy in a long time. He probably won’t about this.

“I’m afraid,” he says slowly, “that I will mistreat a cat.”

Scott doesn’t laugh, but there’s humor in his voice when he replies, “Jimmy, I don’t think you would ever mistreat any living thing on purpose.”

That’s the problem, though, because Jimmy has mistreated living things. Jimmy’s killed people, he’s hurt people, he’s done it accidentally and on purpose.

And more importantly. . . .

“I was a pet,” he says quietly, so quietly that he thinks Scott won’t hear him. He knows he does hear by the way his spine stiffens, by the way his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He continues, louder now. “I was a pet, and I was mistreated. And—it’s all I know, I guess. I’m afraid that if I get a cat, it’ll be like . . . like generational trauma. I’ll abuse it because I was abused, and I don’t know any better.”

“Oh, Jimmy. . . .”

“They beat me, and whipped me, and kept me chained to a table leg and put me in a cage when I was bad, and so much more, and I accepted that it all happened because I was a pet. Because that’s how pets are treated. And I don’t—I don’t wanna hurt an innocent little cat because my head’s so screwed up about this.”

Scott is silent. Jimmy hazards a look up, sees how stormy his face is. He looks back down to his lap, anxiety leaping into his throat.

After a few moments, Scott speaks, voice tense. “You know you aren’t a pet, right?”

“Yeah! Yes. I . . . I understand. I know that. But. . . .” He shrugs. “Conditioning, y’know?”

They’re almost home. Scott turns onto their street, pulls into their drive. Once the car is in park, Scott unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to Jimmy, taking his hands in his own.

“Jimmy, I have never once seen you mistreat Elle,” he says seriously. “I understand why you are concerned, and I’m proud of you for sharing with me. But I don’t think that you will, in any way, shape, or form, hurt a cat. I have full confidence that you will treat a cat with the utmost respect and care.”

“But what if—”

“And if you happened to do so, I would tell you immediately,” Scott finishes, “and together we would work something out about it. Would that be good?”

That settles his racing heart a little bit. Jimmy leans down, kisses Scott’s knuckle. Knowing that there’s someone keeping him accountable means all the world to him. “Yeah. That would—that would be great, actually. And,” he laughs a little sheepishly, “I’ll bring this up in therapy next week. Think I need to process this.”

Scott smiles softly, reaches up his hand but pauses. “Am I okay to touch your face?”

Jimmy shrugs. “Go for it.”

Scott rubs his thumb along Jimmy’s jawline, cradles his chin in his palm. It takes a moment, but Jimmy realizes that it’s uncomfortable. It’s not a safe touch today, so he does what his therapist has been having him rehearse and he pulls away, muttering, “Yellow.”

Scott’s hand drops back to Jimmy’s hands, gives them a quick squeeze. “Kisses okay?”

Jimmy nods, weird feelings dissipating. “Please!”

Scott giggles and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Jimmy feels his cheeks heat, shakes his head back and forth rapidly once Scott pulls away. “Love you,” he says, the last knots of worry loosening in his chest.

Scott sighs contentedly. “I love you so much.”

-

Jimmy sees the way Scott’s eyes sparkle when he looks at him. He hears Scott mutter under his breath, “You’re so adorable,” when he thinks Jimmy won’t notice. Jimmy doesn’t press it, though, because he’s absolutely besotted with Norman.

Norman is his new kitten. He’s five months old and his fur is so fluffy and his eyes are so big and blue and he loves being held and cuddled and he’s lovely, he’s a lovely baby.

There are words that Jimmy avoids saying, words that he knows Scott notices. He doesn’t call Norman a good boy, he doesn’t use the word perfect, he doesn’t call him pet or obedient. He calls him Norman, and only Norman, and sometimes Big Man Norman when he’s an especially brave little kitten.

Norman isn’t just a little guy who lives with him, though. More than once, Jimmy is in the throes of a flashback and Norman hops up into his lap, purrs and nuzzles up against him, and Jimmy is brought back to reality. He goes from shaking at Xornoth’s feet to having a cuddly kitten licking his arm and meowing up at him, his own living room coming into view around him. It gets to the point that Scott drops everything to find Norman when Jimmy gets triggered, the cat rousing him quicker than any of their other tactics.

He tells his therapist of the improvement, and she’s happy for him, reminds him that this is a victory and he should celebrate. He does; he calls Lizzie and invites her over to meet his new kitten, throws a little party with him and Scott and Lizzie and Joel (he and Lizzie are a package deal) and the two cats of the house, which ends with Lizzie trying to put a party hat on Norman and Joel trying to sauvely suggest to Lizzie that they go to his house down the block and spend the night there rather than drive the whole twenty minutes to her apartment.

It feels so normal.

“You’re a keeper,” Scott declares, holding Norman up in the air and nuzzling their noses together. “Part of the family, now. We’ll get you a tag to match Elle’s and a little backpack for you so we can take you on walks. Won’t that be cute?”

That’s when it really sinks in, though. It finally hits Jimmy that Scott is treating Jimmy’s cat as a permanent fixture of the household. Scott considers Norman (and Jimmy, by extension) necessary to complete the family.

He’d known before. But he hadn’t really accepted it, maybe. And now it’s here, right in front of him, and Scott doesn’t even know that Jimmy’s four seconds away from bursting into tears because he’s home.

It can stay that way, though. There are some feelings that are just for him to process. For now, Jimmy watches as his boyfriend (his home) welcomes someone new into his life.