Author's Notes: I love retelling fairytales only with m/m relationships added in. This is actually based in the same world as a retelling of Snow White that I never got around to writing. It's a different setting than what you find in fairytales.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None (so far)
Written: 2006
George Miller knew that he was courting fate when his wife, Kathy, became pregnant for the third time. He already had two sons. A third son would surely bring the notice of fairies and, heaven forbid, might even get them involved in a fairy's tale. Three was one of their numbers. Three of the same even more so.
Still thousands of people had managed to have three children without such a fate and the doctors said that while they couldn't be sure, there was a very good chance that the child was female. Everything would turn out just fine.
Kathy, his beautiful wife, died in childbirth. It was a boy, another son. The nurses had whispered behind their hands where they thought he couldn't hear, but he'd heard them anyway. Cursed child. Fairy touched.
Things had gone downhill from there. His older sons, once loving if a little unruly, had turned into obnoxious bullies. His youngest son was well on his way to becoming the same. George didn't want his children to be the villains in some fairy's tale.
Something had to be done.
Pass the myriad buildings and skyscrapers that made up the city, there was a part of town that people tried to forget about. The buildings were tiny claustrophobic things with rooms stacked one on top of another. All of the streets were so narrow that no car could go down them. Not that a car would work around so much magic in the air.
It was here that those touched by magic lived. Fortunetellers and clairvoyants, cursemakers and magicians: their shops and homes all crammed into a four block area. It would have been more chaotic if it wasn't so contained.
One building painted bright green with yellow shutters had a junk shop on the first floor. George wouldn't go in there for all the money in the world. People walked out with things that lead them straight into the fairies' tales. Besides which, his destination was farther up a set of rickety metal stairs behind white door.
Taking a deep breath, George pushed the door open. Chimes rang. There was a loud meow from a cat and the whistle of a kettle boiling.
"You're a few minutes early. Sit down and I'll get you some tea," a masculine voice called from the kitchen. George obediently sat down on a lime green sofa covered with yellow and orange pillows. The coffee table was covered with the largest white doily George had ever seen. A slightly overweight orange cat jumped onto the sofa and settled down into his lap.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." The fate changer was not what George had been expecting. He was young, good looking, with pale brown hair and hazel eyes. He handed George a delicate china cup decorated with tiny pink roses and filled with hot tea. "My name is Jacob, by the way. Do you take cream or sugar?"
"Neither. Thank you." George took a sip of the hot tea to cover his nerves. It scalded his tongue, but he ignored the pain. "I would like to talk about why I'm here."
"I assume it's because you want someone's fate changed," Jacob said. He settled himself in a dark green chair with another giant doily draped over the back. George felt those hazel eyes give him the once over. "You're acting too mature to be love struck, so it can't be a lover. I'm going to guess... a child?"
"My sons." George said. He set the tea down in its saucer on the table. The orange cat purred. "I have three. My wife died in childbirth with the third."
"You have my deepest sympathies," Jacob said. George had heard that a lot in the years since Kathy's death. Especially as he watched his sons grow more and more distant. "I am flattered at what you think I can do, but I can't change the fates of three people at once. Given what little you've said, if fairies have already marked them, I'm not sure I could help one."
"Oh." George stared down at his hands. "Well, then. I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"I wish I could be of more help..." Jacob said. "I could possibly do something for you, to prevent you from getting involved."
"No." George made himself sit taller. "If my sons are going to be mixed up in this, I don't want to make them go through it alone. I appreciate the offer, but no."
"I understand." Jacob set his own cup of tea on the coffee table. "Still, if you change..." He was cut off when the large orange cat got up and started meowing. Loudly. Jacob glared down at the cat. "Wilhelm, what is up with you?"
As if the cat understood the question, he bolted from the room, only to return a few seconds later with a gray kitten in his mouth. Wilhelm deposited the kitten at George's feet and looked up expectantly. Then Wilhelm meowed. The gray kitten also looked up, and made a tiny squeaking noise.
"Um..." Jacob was at a lost for words. "I think Wilhelm wants you to take his kitten."
"Thank you, but..." Wilhelm meowed louder, if at all possible. The kitten stared up at him with impossibly yellow-green eyes. Then it summoned every ounce of cuteness in its little body, and yawned.
George felt himself waiver.
"Unlike people, animals cannot be compelled to do a fairy's bidding. They only get involved by their choice," Jacob explained. "Maybe the kitten has chosen you."
With a sigh, George reached down and picked up the little gray kitten. It started up a low, rumbling purr and settled into the crook of his arms. "Well, it can't hurt. Though given how my boys are acting, I don't guarantee his safety."
"Cats have a way of looking out for themselves," Jacob said dryly. Wilhelm groomed his tail and ignored the conversation. "I wish I could be more help." He paused. "He hadn't even told me his name yet."
"Who?" George asked.
"The kitten," Jacob said pointing to George's arms. "I usually get their names before I let them go. I haven't had time. It's been a busy season."
Despite on the desperate normalness to the apartment and the man, George was suddenly reminded that Jacob was a fate changer. Magic affected not only him, but the things around him. Still, what could one little kitten do?
"I think I'll call him... Puss."
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Later, after George had left and Jacob had cleaned up the half finished tea, Wilhelm wandered into the kitchen to be fed. "I can't believe you foisted one of your spawn off on that unsuspecting guy."
"His choice," Wilhelm said. He crouched on the floor, did a small butt wiggle, and gracefully leapt up onto the counter. Jacob scooped him up and deposited him back on the floor.
"Even if you are a talking cat, you are not allowed up on the counters." Wilhelm flattened his ears, but didn't resist since Jacob immediately placed a large plate of food on the floor. "And was it really that guy's choice when your spawn looked up at him with a stare of +3 cuteness?"
"Careful. You're geek roots are showing." Wilhelm took three bits of food before continuing. "Besides, I never said it was the guy's choice. It was my son's choice to go with him. That's where his fate was."
"You never told me cats could sense their own fates."
"That's because no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer." Wilhelm looked down at the kitty kibble. "This stuff tastes like cardboard. Do we have any of the canned turkey left?"
______________________________________
Eight years later...
It was breakfast time in the Miller household. Peter and Simon were playing a game where the only rule seemed to be who could hit the other harder without getting caught. They sat next to each other at the breakfast table and the silence was only broken by an occasional fist connecting with an arm.
"Peter, Simon. Stop that. JOSH!" George yelled up the stairs. Peter and Simon broke into laughter, which earned them a glare.
"I don't see why I have to go to school. I'm eighteen. I can drop out," Peter said. It was an argument that he and his father had had hundreds of times. They would probably have it a hundred more times before the school year ended.
"The answer is still no. And if you want to ever see the inside of this house and my car again, you will graduate. That goes for you too," George said to Simon.
"I didn't even say anything!" Simon protested.
"Yes, but you were going to." George grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. It was burning hot, but good. Caffeine. "You were also going to bring up the fact that you turned seventeen last month. I'm not getting you a car."
"You got Peter a car."
"Yes, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I'm not likely to repeat it." He stared at Simon who glared back with clear blue eyes. Like his mother. It was a shame he didn't remember Kathy.
"I'm not Peter. I can actually be responsible," Simon said. In response, Peter smacked Simon on the back of the head.
"Jerk!"
"Asshole!"
"Stop it this instant. This discussion is over. JOSH! NOW!"
______________________________________
"JOSH!"
Josh rolled his eyes as his dad yelled for him for the fifth time that morning. It wasn't like he was going to be late. He still had a good fifteen minutes. It wasn't like the subway was going to come early.
"Dad really needs to chill," Josh said. From his place on the bed, Puss looked up and meowed. Josh wandered over and scratched behind one gray ear. "Yeah, I know its hard dealing with my loser brothers. He still needs to relax. He's going to have a heart attack before he hits forty."
He'd had Puss for eight years. Logic said that the cat would be middle aged right now. In reality, Puss had stayed a kitten for almost five years, and was only now hitting the far end of those "awkward teenage years." Puss would always be on the thin side, but he'd finally stopped being all long legs, clumsy jumps, and too big paws.
It had to be magic. A magical cat for a fairy cursed child. It fit somehow. No wonder Josh had taken to him ever since his dad had brought him home.
Josh moved his fingers until he was scratching Puss's chin, right at the spot he knew the cat loved most. Puss began purring, low and deep, while he stretched his neck out and regarded Josh with half closed eyes.
"I wish my mom hadn't died," Josh told Puss, struck by sudden melancholy. "I wish things were different. I wish... for a lot of things. I'm glad I have you."
"JOSH! NOW!"
He withdrew his hand, stalked over to the door, and yelled back at his father. "I'M COMING." Puss settled down to sleep, use to loud noises. Josh grabbed his backpack and slung it on. "Have a good day, Puss. I'll see you this afternoon."
Then Josh was heading downstairs to listen to his brothers tease him and his father lecture him on being on time.
______________________________________
Two hours later, Puss woke up and stretched. The patch of sunlight that always fell on Josh's bed was still there. Puss blinked at it mournfully, before quickly cleaned one paw. He didn't have time to lie around all morning. There were things that needed to be done.
Normally, Puss would need to figure out a way to get out of the house to accomplish what he was about to do. Servant fairies didn't just gather in any old place. They only congregated where the high elves needed something done. Lucky for him, the curse on the Millers was about to start. In fact, it would begin as soon as Josh turned sixteen.
Four months wasn't a whole lot of time to deflect a curse sixteen years in the making, but Puss was pretty sure he could manage. He was, after all, a cat.
It was easy to act like all he had on his mind was going to the kitchen to get food. On the way he chased his tail, stopped by the window to watch a pair of birds peck at the grass, studied at interesting piece of lint on the carpet, and washed the end of his tail. Perfectly normal activities. Nothing suspicious at all.
As soon as Puss entered the kitchen, he noticed the fairy. It was a tiny, bright light with only the vaguest suggestion of wings. Puss pretended not to see it as he headed towards his food dish. The fairy held still for a few seconds, but then continued its assigned tasks when he didn't react to its presence.
Years of pretending that he didn't see them had made the fairies lax. It was exactly what he wanted. As soon as the little fairy was involved in something else, Puss began to stalk it. He crouched down low, stalked three paces forward, and shifted slightly to make sure he had judged the distance right.
Then he pounced.
A split second too late the fairy realized what was happening and tried to fly out of the way. Puss used one paw to snatch it out of the air, pinning it to the floor. It was over in seconds. Even better, the fairy had foolishly come here alone. That meant he didn't have to eat its companion.
The small fairy struggled. Puss put a little more pressure on his paw until it stilled. Only when he was assured of the little creature's full attention did he speak.
"Hello. We haven't met before, but I'm sure you've seen me around. The Miller's call me Puss. I know you work for the high elf that has cursed them and I just have a few questions regarding your boss..."