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catsafarithewriter · 4 years

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Day 6: Midnight Snack

A/N: This was inspired by a conversation with @wolfiethewriter about potentially how much Baron really knew about human habits, and how easily he’d be to fool. (Also late again... but

The first impression most folk had upon meeting Baron was usually cat.

The second impression, after realising this tiny, well-dressed feline was capable of speech and wielded his words with significant eloquence was normally gentlemen.

Most people didn’t progress past this point, which worked well in Baron’s favour because the third impression commonly veered off into chaos territory.

Haru was on her ninth impression.

This stage consisted of speed running past past words such as infallible, charming, and emotionally constipated, and boomeranging back into the early stages in a messy amalgamation of chaotic gentleman cat Creation.

The overall outcome was the realisation that while Baron was indeed a gentleman and an immortal Creation, he was also substantially under-experienced when it came to the human experience, and also was not immune to laser pointers.

And while the latter was a tendency that Haru would occasionally indulge for her own amusement (so far the list of banned Bureau items involved not only laser pointers, but also wind-up mice, chalk, and suspiciously-empty boxes), Muta was far more drawn to the former trait.

As such, sometimes there were weird moments in the Bureau.

(Not weird as in abnormal - in a Bureau dedicated to dealing with magic, the supernatural was practically natural - but just gently odd.)

For instance, being woken at 11:45pm by a soft tapping at the door.

Haru rolled over and surveyed the room that was definitely not her room for several long, belaboured moments, before groggily recalling the events of the day before.

Right.

The case.

The nightmare case.

The case involving personified nightmares and physical dreams and had been the reason she had slept in the spare bedroom the Sanctuary had spontaneously produced for her use.

That case.

She stared up at the speckled ceiling and tried to align her unexpected sleepover with the knocking at her door.

It wasn’t the frenzied oh-dear-god-the-monsters-have-found-us hammering, nor the apologetic excuse-me-but-you-left-the-dishes-in-the-sink rapping, but it was unfailingly polite. It was, in nature, the same tone that flight hostesses give when they wake you up for your paid airborne meal at 5am.

She almost would have preferred monsters.

She rolled out of the bed, grabbing the dressing gown that the Sanctuary had thoughtfully provided, and lumbered to the door.

“Wassup?”

Baron, infuriatingly bright-eyed at ridiculous hours of the night and apparently confused as to why Haru didn’t share that trait, offered what was probably a winning smile at any other time of day. “Miss Haru, food is ready.”

Haru blinked.

Then she blinked again for good measure.

When it became quite apparent that she wasn’t dreaming and Baron was indeed there and informing her about food, she mustered up all the eloquence she could manage in her sleep-addled brain, and said, “What?”

The winning smile only slightly faltered. “Muta warned me that after the chaos of the previous case, you may not feel up to macks, but he’s previously made it quite clear how important of a meal it is for mortals, so it’ll do you good to eat.”

Haru squinted through the haze of midnightitis and decided these kinds of hijinks were the reason she didn’t sleep over at the Bureau. Her mind eventually settled on the words that she had understood, even if the direction of the whole sentence had escaped her. “You’re asking...” she fumbled, “for me to come with you at...” she checked, “11:53pm, for food?”

“That seems to be the gist of it, yes.”

She stared at him, swaying slightly in the doorway. ”Sure. Why not?” She yawned and pulled the dressing gown tighter. “Lead the way, mah... messtro... maestro.”

The first signs of reconsideration flittered across Baron’s face. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m awake now. Kinda too late for second guessing.” She tucked her arm into his, partly for the intimacy, but mostly because she didn’t trust herself to find her own way to the kitchen.

A few more of her mental facilities had come back online by the time they reached the main heart of the Sanctuary, enough for Haru to fully appreciate the extensive spread of food laid out before her.

“Wow, this is... this is a lot,” Haru stammered. Geez, I’d forgotten how the Bureau never does anything by halves. “I mean, a cold meat spread and everything? Grilled cheese? Sticky rice? Why...? How...?”

“We thought you might need a proper macks after the day you’ve had.”

“...What?”

“Well, during the nightmare case, you barely had a chance to rest, let alone eat--”

“No, no, I got that. Well,” Haru amended, “I see your logic. Macks?” She wondered whether the Sanctuary translation magic was having another off day. “Is that... Is that a Creation thing?” Except Creations didn’t need to eat, so that didn’t really make any sense...

“Oh, maybe I’m not saying it right,” Baron hemmed. “Macks: the last meal of the day, originating from the tradition of eating the leftover food before the new day. A portmanteau of ‘midnight’ and ‘snacks’.” He looked at her expectantly as if that explained everything.

If anything, Haru was left even more flummoxed. The way he spoke was that of a dictionary definition, but it was no word she had ever heard. Maybe the Sanctuary really had tapped out for the night. “Okay, but I’ve never heard of...”

Across the room, Muta suddenly furiously gestured for her to derail that sentence.

Oh.

Well. Now it all made sense.

“...never heard of grilled cheese for macks,” Haru weakly finished. “Excuse me, I always take a turn around the garden before macks; Muta, please join me.” And without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Muta’s arm and hauled him out into the Sanctuary courtyard.

She waited until the door had swung solidly behind her before starting what was looking to be a very enlightening conversation.

“Muta,” she said, her arm tightly curled around his arm despite her deceptively light tone, “is it my sleep-deprived brain talking, or have you managed to con Baron and Toto into believing that midnight snacks are a legit meal?”

“Yeah, in hindsight this kinda got out of paw.”

“Kinda?”

“Look, Baron caught me snacking one night, so I lied and made up macks to get him off my back--”

“And he believed you?”

“Keep it down, Chicky; do ya want them to hear? And... eh, at first I think he just let it go. But then he started putting away the leftover food to remove temptation, so I showed him it was a real word.”

“It’s not a real word.”

Muta smirked. “It is if you edit Baron’s dictionary.”

“How...?”

“You’d be amazed what yer can do with a printer, glue, and far too much time.”

“You don’t have a printer,” Haru pointed out.

“The library does.”

Haru digested this as they circled the far end of the courtyard. “Muta, have you been sneaking into the library at night?”

“Maybe?”

“Oh my god, you’re why everyone thinks it’s haunted.”

“It is.”

Haru’s mouth clattered shut for several seconds. “Oh no, I did not need to know that.”

“Yer stuff a load of dead trees into one building, yer bound to get spirits following after, like bogeymen and ghouls--”

“Stop talking. Just... stop.”

Aware that they were returning back in the direction of the Bureau, and that too many circuits would rouse suspicion in their companions, Haru attempted to wrangle the conversation back on to relevant territory.

“You know he’s going to figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be today, does it, Chicky? I’ve got a good thing going here.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She made a show of tilting her head in the impression of deep thought. “I don’t know how I feel about being an accessory to your lies.”

“How about one secret for another, then?” Muta offered. “I won't tell him your secret if you don’t tell him mine.”

“You don’t know any of my secrets.”

“I know you’re the one who ate the last of his birthday cake.”

Haru froze. “You have no proof.”

“I found the crumbs on your scarf.”

“Okay, but it was really good sponge cake and I was hungry and suffering from cramps!”

“So we’ve got a deal?”

Haru narrowed her eyes. “Is this what it feels like to be blackmailed?”

“This ain’t blackmail, this is mutually beneficial shutting-up.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, buddy.”

“Just play along for this one night and I promise Baron’ll never know it was you who stole the cake.”

“Only the last slice,” Haru muttered, but she steered them both back into the Bureau, where ‘macks’ was still spread across the table. She had to admit, it did look delicious, and her stomach gave an agreeing rumble. “Well, I feel better for that midnight constitution,” she said jollily, grabbing a seat and pulling herself in. “Don’t you, Muta?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Mmmm, smacks, my favourite meal of the night.”

Baron gave her a strange look, and Haru wondered if she was laying the enthusiasm on a bit thick. Then, “You mean macks, don’t you?”

“...Yes?”

Another searching look. She could see the gears whirring through his mind as he put two and two together and realised he had been duped. Then he pointedly retrieved his dictionary and flipped it open to what Haru presumed was the ‘M’ section.

“Mackem... mackerel... mackintosh... macks...” His finger caught something on the page, and Haru saw the edge of paper curl, dried glue giving up its secrets as he peeled the addition away. “And look, here’s ‘mackle,’ mysteriously hidden beneath the definition for ‘macks’. How peculiar.” He looked up. “Don’t you think, Muta?”

“I... Uh... Haru ate the last of your birthday cake!”

“MUTA!” Haru gasped. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

“Hey, Chicky, my secret’s out, so so’s yours.”

“You...” Haru felt herself redden and she threw a hand in his direction. “Muta was the one who broke the teapot!”

“She forgot to water your plants last summer and replaced all of them so you wouldn't notice!”

“He brought home the cursed chopping board that nearly ate the Bureau!”

“She’s the one who hid the laser pointer!”

“He got himself employed by a Cat Kingdom smuggling ring!”

“Yeah, well, she...” Muta floundered. “She’s in love with you!”

“WE’RE ALREADY DATING!” Haru roared back.

There was a long, long pause.

“Wait,” Toto interrupted, who had been happily watching the proceedings until then. “What? Since when?”

“Uh...”

“You’ve been dating in secret and didn’t tell us?”

Haru glanced to Baron. “Um, a little help here?”

“A moment, please.” Baron was flicking through the dictionary, apparently entirely oblivious to the turn the conversation had taken. He frowned. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that second breakfast isn’t a thing either?”

“Not unless you’re a hobbit,” Haru replied. She glanced to Muta with a ‘exactly how far did you take this?’ look before returning her attention to Baron. “Um, just how many meals of the day do you think there are?”

“Is the number in the double digits?”

“...No.”

Baron’s face took on a funny sort of expression, his whiskers twitching and his nose wrinkling. “MUTA!”

#tcr birthday bash #tcr birthday bash 2020 #the cat returns #the cat queues #day 6 midnight snack #also I maaaaay have borrovved the 'shouting secrets at each other' thing from FRIENDS #unintentionally #a ficlet in which muta has been scamming baron with fake meals for years #and haru finally accidentally brings it all crashing dovvn #I mostly wanted the 'second breakfast isn't a thing either' realisation #eveyrone's in trouble today #apart from toto #although toto technically knew or suspected that mtua was lying #but kinda wanted to see hovv far it would go #also the 'go walking' bit is probably the jane austen shovving

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