The One With The Blue Eyes

Disclaimer: So not mine.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Insert my usual 'oh god what is this' diatribe here.

I haven't written Chairman Meow POV in two years. I forgot how much fun it was. This'll probably just be a short, silly two-shot.

I fired off an email to ffdotnet's staff begging them to add Chairman Meow to the character filter, so hopefully that'll happen soon…

Crouched in a shadowy doorway on the penultimate floor of his apartment building, Chairman Meow kept his eyes on the steady stream of beings descending the stairs and tried to remember exactly how many people Magnus had invited to this thing. He'd fled as soon as the celebration started – drunken party-goers tended to forget to watch where they put their feet and his poor tail couldn't take too much more abuse, not after that Jack Russell Terrier in the park had tried to take a bite out of it. And Magnus always had the music too loud, as if he thought Chairman Meow's admittedly large ears needed help. Just hearing the bass from downstairs had given him a headache.

Warlocks, he thought irritably, they never think of other creatures' limitations.

He waited for the deluge of Downworlders to taper off to one or two every few minutes before snatching up his leftover dinner and pelting up the steps, avoiding a glob of something neon-orange along the way, and slinking around the corner into his apartment. It probably smelled like sweat and alcohol and smoke now, but Chairman Meow had half a dead trout right under his nose, for which he was grateful. Too much party-smell made him sneeze. He padded over to where Magnus was standing with a female warlock and dropped the fish at his feet.

Magnus didn't see, of course. He was too busy listening to the witch to notice what Chairman Meow had generously gifted him. "– probably not going," she was saying. "I've got clients lined up back-to-back until October and some of them are too complicated for Rico to handle alone. Anyway, Magnus, don't change the subject. Am I hammered, or did I spot you hitting on a Shadowhunter, of all things?"

"Shadowhunters don't do anything for me, Antoinette, and you know it. Pretty, willowy, dark-haired boys with blue eyes… that is an entirely different story."

Oooh. Chairman Meow purred in amusement and sat back on his haunches to see where this was going. Magnus had that familiar airy, almost dreamy tone in his voice again. Is he dating someone? Was anybody going to tell me about this? Last time Magnus had had a serious relationship, it had been with the girl in front of him, and while Chairman Meow rather liked Antoinette – her wings, now folded under her thick jacket, frequently dropped shiny, iridescent feathers that made great playthings – her owner was a sand-colored tabby called Cleopatra who didn't like sharing her toys. He hadn't been able to cohabitate with her and was secretly relieved when Magnus and Antoinette had broken up.

"Aw," Antoinette cooed, standing on her tiptoes to tap Magnus on the nose, "that's my boy, all grown up and fantasizing about jailbait!"

"Get out," Magnus said cheerfully.

Antoinette laughed. "Point taken. I'll see you around." She turned and headed for the door, and a feather slipped out from beneath the hem of her jacket. Chairman Meow perked up as it fluttered toward the ground. He settled into a hunting crouch, motionless but for the twitching of his tail, and waited…

A fraction of a second before the feather would have touched the warped floorboards, he lunged. The feather never had a chance. Haha! I have you now! Come to me, traitorous warrior, and feel the razor-sharp agony of my teeth as I destroy you!

He was lying on his back, gnawing at the stem and scraping away at the fluffy bits with his back paws when a tan hand swooped down out of nowhere. With a cry of alarm, Chairman Meow rolled over and unsheathed his claws. My arch-nemesis, Hand Man! Have you returned to finish our battle?

"Don't eat that," Magnus said, picking the mangled feather off the floor. "You'll choke, and then probably hack it up all over my bed. By the way, it's very rude to not even put in an appearance at your own party."

Chairman Meow sulked at the loss of his toy. "You didn't even ask if I wanted a party," he complained.

Magnus, as always, behaved like Chairman Meow hadn't spoken. "Where have you been all night, darling?" he asked.

Instead of replying, Chairman Meow picked up his fish again, holding it delicately between his teeth, and lay it on Magnus' shoe. "For you!" he chirped. He'd left the building entirely after the party had begun and visited his usual haunts, but it seemed like every other cat in Brooklyn had somewhere better to be tonight, and when he had stopped to do some hunting in his favorite alleyway, he'd found that big, bullying Maine Coon already there and decided to scram. From there, he went back home and poked his head into the apartment belonging to the selkies downstairs. Agnieszka and Dominika always showered him with love and affection and could usually spare some delicious raw fish. Since he had felt a bit bad about missing his own party, he'd saved half for his person.

Magnus didn't look quite as delighted as Chairman Meow hoped he would be. "How lovely." He clicked his fingers and the fish head vanished.

"That had better be in my bowl," Chairman Meow yelled as Magnus made his way into his room, "or I'm going to throw up on your pillow!"

"Oh, hush," Magnus yawned. "It's bedtime, sweetie. I'm beat." He disappeared through the doorway. A moment later, he stuck an arm back out and threw something down the hallway. "And happy birthday."

Chairman Meow jumped out of the way as the projectile flew past him. "Are you trying to kill me?" he yelped. Then the object hit the ground, releasing a burst of sweet-spicy scent and skittering to a halt in the middle of the room. Not even wrapped? He gets an F for presentation, but – whee! Catnip mousie! He flung himself onto the toy and batted it into the wall. You dare run from me, Darth Meow, grand leader of the Sith Cats? Defend yourself, Jedi Master Mouse!

Once the catnip-high had worn off, he picked the mouse up by its little yarn tail and bounced into the den before remembering that Magnus had said 'bedtime', meaning he most likely didn't want to play Fetch the Toy From Under the Couch. Warlocks, Chairman Meow thought again. Sleeping at all the wrong times. I should have tried harder to get adopted by a vampire… do vampires eat cats?

He left the mouse behind, wandered along to the bedroom, and put his question to Magnus, who was rummaging through his clothes and only visible from the waist down. "Out," Magnus said, nudging him from the closet with his foot and closing the doors. Since he didn't seem inclined to answer (not that he ever did), Chairman Meow retired to the bed and gave himself a quick bath so he didn't smell like dirt and car exhaust while Magnus changed. He always felt a bit sorry for people – they didn't have any fur, and their 'hair' wasn't nearly abundant enough to cover their entire bodies, so they had to wear clothes. The only thing Chairman Meow appreciated about clothes was how many different colors they could be. There had certainly been times, like when he was hiding in dark alleys, that he would have done anything to be dark brown or black instead of white and gray. Not permanently, though. He rather liked his appearance – all right, he was on the small side, but his fur was fluffy and silky, his stripes were perfectly even, his whiskers were all the same length, and his eyes were big, blue, and aww-inducing. Sometimes it was hard to be such a perfect specimen of feline, but he managed.

Magnus shut off the lights and slid under the covers, gently dislodging Chairman Meow from the pillows. The cat plopped himself down on his chest in retaliation. "All right," he said to his pet, "spill. Who's this Shadowhunter I keep hearing about? Does he have an owner? Is it anybody I know?"

Giving another yawn, Magnus ran a finger over one of Chairman Meow's ears. "That definitely could have gone better," he murmured, eyes closing. "But I imagine it could have been worse, too. Good night."

"I don't know why I bother asking you anything," Chairman Meow grumbled. Note to self – next pet should be someone who doesn't pretend they can't understand you.

While it was dark outside and therefore prime playtime, he was already worn out from his excursions and the legendary defeat of Jedi Master Mouse, and he didn't need any coaxing to lay his chin on his paws and settle in for a nap. Magnus looked like he was already asleep. Tonight had been the party, so tomorrow would be an After-Party Day – meaning, Magnus would laze around the apartment, not hungover enough to be miserable but not awake enough to want to do anything that required effort, and would pay extra attention to Chairman Meow to make up for scaring him off with all the noise and people. They could play that game where Chairman Meow dunked all his cloth toys in his water dish and hid them so Magnus had to follow the drips to find everything. And there was still that half of the fish, which he supposed he would share if Magnus asked nicely. Purring happily in anticipation, Chairman Meow nuzzled Magnus' hand and drifted off.

Then the doorbell buzzed so loudly that the noise jerked them both from a sound sleep.

Chairman Meow instantly jumped up, tail fluffing in alarm. "Who's that?"

"I am not drunk enough for this," Magnus muttered, draping an arm over his eyes. He set Chairman Meow aside and got up. The cat followed him to the door, popping his claws out in case their visitor was some sort of monster and he had to defend his person. The doorbell buzzed again before they even reached the front room, and Magnus heaved a sigh, pressed the speaker button, and thundered, "WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST?"

That'll show them! Chairman Meow thought gleefully. No monster's coming up here after that.

"Jace Wayland," said the voice over the intercom. "Remember? I'm from the Clave."

Magnus brightened so thoroughly and obviously that Chairman Meow would have raised his eyebrows, had he possessed any. Is this who you were so excited about earlier? He sounds stuck-up. I hope he's cute… or gives good belly-rubs. "Oh, yes. Are you the one with the blue eyes?"

"No. My eyes are usually described as golden. And luminous."

The brightness vanished as quickly as it had come. "Oh, you're that one. I suppose you'd better come up."

Their visitors weren't monsters at all, just some Shadowhunters. There was a tall boy with blond hair and a shorter, redheaded girl carrying a backpack. Magnus didn't look at all pleased to see them. "I was sleeping."

"We're sorry to bother you –" The girl stopped, glanced down, and said, "Chairman Meow?"

"What?" Chairman Meow said, but nobody heard him over Magnus' response of "He has returned." Hey, she was talking to me!

"That's not a cat," the boy said. "He's the size of a hamster."

Well, I never! Chairman Meow stuck his nose in the air, head and tail held high, and clung to his dignity. I will not allow you to slander me like that, no sir! I am a cat and thus far superior to your noisy, smelly, furless race!

"I am kindly going to forget you said that." Magnus tapped his foot against Chairman Meow's side, pushing him away from the door. "Now, exactly what did you come here for?"

Ugh, is this a warlock business thing? Booooring! Chairman Meow went back to the den in search of Jedi Master Mouse, who probably had a bit of fight left in him, but gave up after a few half-hearted nibbles. He was more interested in whoever Magnus had been talking about over the intercom. He called him 'the one with the blue eyes'… well, I have blue eyes, but I doubt he's in love with me. I hope not, at least. Not that I don't deserve it, but he isn't my type, and I'd hate to have to turn him down. It would break his fragile heart. No, no, whoever it is, he's a Shadowhunter. Really, Antoinette was right, what was he thinking? They hardly notice Downworlders unless they've done something wrong.

Magnus continued to talk to the Shadowhunters for what felt like forever. When his spot on the bed grew cold, Chairman Meow started wailing, and that seemed to speed their interaction up a bit. Finally, he came back to the bedroom. "I hate Shadowhunters," Magnus declared, flopping none too gracefully onto the mattress.

"Yeah, yeah, they think they're better than everyone and have no fashion sense, I've heard this speech before." Chairman Meow leapt lightly onto Magnus' stomach. "So, are you going to tell me who the one with the blue eyes is? Are you? Are you?"

Magnus rolled over, winding an arm around a pillow.

Chairman Meow waited. When no explanation was forthcoming, he whined, "Come oooon!"

"Shut up, you."

Deeply offended, the cat hissed. "Fine! See if I care! I hope he dumps you!" With that, Chairman Meow turned around and presented Magnus with his backside.

Magnus didn't beg forgiveness like Chairman Meow expected him to, though – nor did he sleep. The sky outside was streaked pink and gold before he sighed, reached out, and stroked Chairman Meow's back. "I don't know why I'm bothering," he said. "He's a scared, closeted teenager, and I'm fairly certain that he has a thing for his brother. He isn't going to come back. I doubt he'll even call." Magnus sounded so wistful that Chairman Meow, feeling guilty for being harsh, pressed his nose into his palm and purred. "I wish I'd gotten his name, at least…"

"What?" Chairman Meow screeched, jumping up. "You're in love with this guy and you don't even know his name? Haven't I taught you anything? Jeez!"

"Oh, I said shut up. I need to sleep."

"You're incompetent and I hate you," Chairman Meow snapped, smacking at his bare foot, but Magnus just twitched his fingers to close the curtains and tugged the comforter over his head. Once again, he was out cold in mere minutes.

Because Chairman Meow was tired himself, he curled back up on Magnus' legs. All right, he thought sleepily, I'm a nice guy and I don't want you to be mopey. I'll make sure you get together with the one with the blue eyes if it's the last thing I do. And you'd better be damn grateful.

Matchmaker Meow to the rescue!

Chairman Meow watches too much television.

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