Garfield.

Munch blinked in bewilderment, something that had become a habit ever since he agreed to complicate his life with the ever explosive Fin component. Said smartass idiot was grinning like a goof at him, apparently holding back his laughter in a last stand of something that vaguely resembled composure.

"Right," Munch said with as much calm he could muster, "You got me a cat. For my birthday." He looked up from the meowing fur ball, blinking again, "You are aware of the canary currently inhabiting the kitchen, yes?"

Attached to the box in which the little beast had arrived, there was a large tag that read 'Hi, my name's Garfield. Feed me and don't kill Oddie.' The cat itself wasn't a hideous abomination, simply a stripped tabby that was looking at Munch with that queer calculative stare all cats possessed. Fin leaned on the back of the couch, staring at the interaction with a mix of amusement and slight apprehension. In his mind, it was quite a witty present, particularly after the dog puns that had been the theme of the last few weeks.

"Yeah," He shrugged off Munch's question, "The blasted thing attempts to give me a migraine every day."

"Several cultures hold singing bids in high esteem; I'll have you known that's quite a talented bird you're insulting," Munch was always so terribly touchy when it came to his blasted feather duster, Fin thought sourly. With a theatrical sigh, however, the older man reached out to pat the weary cat, "I'm almost afraid to ask where you got him from."

"Her, actually," Content to have the subject away from Byrd the bird - oh, and Munch dared to complain about his puns - Fin shrugged, "It's a she. My sister's cat had a litter a few weeks ago. I asked her to keep one and wait for the right moment."

"She?" A loud snort, "You named a female cat Garfield?"

"Sure," Fin frowned, shrugging, "What's wrong with that?"

"You'll have to take her to Huang at some point, you realize, what with the sexual confusion it'll be forced to grow upon," Munch sneered, "Though then again, I haven't seen the show in ages, isn't Garfield the one that continuously kicks Oddie off the table?"

Fin rolled his eyes, though he was content Munch wasn't throwing a tantrum yet. Indeed, the older man continued to rub his knuckles on the small, furry head and a quiet purring sound began echoing in the apartment. It was peaceful Saturday, one of those days they could actually spend resting and doing little, instead of running around the precinct filing papers and sketching out cases. They loved their job, though, for different reasons and they enjoyed the mishaps that made up their lives. Especially now that they could share everything in a whole new level. It was a tense situation, the right kind of tense for once, with them living together and working together and sleeping together and generally working as two parts of a whole.

Albeit, a volatile, snide, cynic, sarcastic whole.

"Hey, if there's a John and there's an Oddie, this house certainly needs a Garfield." The black man smiled mischievously, reaching out to pat the cat himself.

Garfield turned around and scratched him with a furious yowl, skittering backwards towards Munch as she hissed and spit menacingly.

"Fuck."

Munch raised an eyebrow at the cat's vicious behavior, a slow smile appearing in his face. He was starting to like this 'Garfield' character a whole lot more now.

"I believe this is the start of a... productive partnership."

*~*~*

The stupid cat had a personal vendetta against him, that was the only rational explanation Fin could and would accept.

Munch watched from the comfort of the still warm bed as Fin rummaged around their closet, far too annoyed to notice he'd yet to get dressed. Not that the older detective was about to complain about the sight of Fin jiggling his bare ass in the air as he tried to catch the ever elusive Garfield, but it certainly added something to their otherwise plain morning rituals.

“Get back here, you little ball of shit!”

Munch snorted when Garfield yowled and Fin went crashing down with a yelp of pain. The scratches were starting to become part of Fin’s appereance, and although – for once – Munch hadn’t put them there. He thought they looked sexy. Fin always told him to fuck off whenever he attempted to mention it.

Suddenly, Garfield came out of the closet, a familiar black bandana neatly held in her mouth. Fin paled.

“No,” He said in a tone that was almost begging. Munch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering. Garfield placed a pawn on a corner of the cloth, while keeping her tight hold on it with her teeth. Her bright green eyes glinted with enough malice to put a demon to shame. “Please no.”

There was an ominous ripping sound.

Fin yowled in an eerily feline way and lounged at the cat, which smartly ran over to the bed, hiding herself against Munch, who really had had enough and was laughing as he held the cat close to his chest.

“Lemme at it!” Fin snarled as he glared over at both evil bastards, “Lemme at it, goddamnit!” Standing up, he put up his most threatening expression as he pointed accusingly at Munch, “That’s it, that’s it you hear me? That was the last drop, the last joke, I’m drowning the stupid thing in the bathtub, I am! You mark my words!”

Munch merely petted the cat, his laughter reduced to a wide smirk that clearly said ‘I doubt it’.

“Perhaps you should go around getting a bathtub first,” He pointed out dryly, snickering when Fin stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door as hard as he could. Munch shrugged, “Someone needs to see a therapist, and it ain’t you, Garfield, how queer is that?”

The cat merely purred contently, snuggling close to her master in a possessive display of affection. Munch smiled.

*~*~*

Fin sulked, Munch ignored him.

When the black man glared at him, he simply found a sudden interest in the opposite direction, hiding a smile. When Fin grumbled about the price of cat food – Garfield had turned out to honor her namesake, she had expensive taste buds – Munch pointed out how dogs were worse and how Byrd was better. When the younger detective complained about the cat hairs infesting his wardrobe, Munch was always away feeding the pets.

Garfield hated Fin. Fin very much returned the sentiment.

Munch was in just for amusement’s sake.

*~*~*

A whole year later, Fin’s bandanas were still in danger of extinction, his clothes were still covered with cat fur and he had forgotten what it was like to sleep comfortably snuggled up against Munch, sans ball of fur spasmodically digging her claws on his back.

Garfield still lived with them. So did Byrd, much to Fin’s dismay.

The most shocking fact that chilly Monday morning was not the fact Garfield had somehow learned how to get into the overhead kitchen cabinets just to jump at Fin’s head first thing in the morning – which she did, every morning, since she figured out how about six months before – but the fact there was a black circle around Wednesday’s date in the calendar.

For once, it wasn’t Garfield’s fault that Fin choked on his coffee.

*~*~*

Munch wasn’t a particularly festive person when it came to… well, nothing, so obviously the task fell on Fin’s hands when they had to celebrate anything. Especially when it was about birthdays.

Fin didn’t want to overwhelm the sensitivities – he snorted loudly at the notion whenever he thought about it – of the irritable ball of pointy unpleasant-ness that he called lover and partner with a large party. He only invited those he knew in the precinct for dinner at their apartment, knowing he and Munch would have their chance to celebrate on their own by the weekend, during the trip to Baltimore Fin had expressly threatened Munch with – he had to have friends back there, after all.

That Wednesday, the group arrived at the apartment at his lead; Olivia, Elliot and Craigen: the trio staring in bewilderment at the sight of Munch sitting petulantly on a couch, absently petting Garfield and giving Fin a not so flattering look.

He looked like an Italian Mafia Godfather waiting to strike, so the laughter was reserved until the guests and their host had retreated to the kitchen, away from the glare.

Garfield purred, snuggling further into her owner’s lap when she felt him tense.

*~*~*

“I’m not talking to you,” The accusing finger settled on Olivia, who was too busy snickering to worry about the implied threat, “Or you,” Elliot gave him a cheeky smile, “Or you,” Craigen merely raised an eyebrow in a ‘oh, really?’ fashion that simply irritated Munch some more, “And definitely, I’m not talking to you.” Fin grinned sheepishly.

“Oh man,” Elliot finally laughed hand covering his face as he hiccupped between cackles, “Oh man.”

Munch narrowed his eyes, then huffed.

“Ow!”

“Oof!”

“Hey!”

“Fuck!”

Two seconds later, after Garfield was done running over all the present’s laps, claws extended, he smirked.

“Thanks dear,” Patting the purring cat, Munch smiled nastily at the grumbling group, “Nice to know there’s someone who still sticks up for me.”

He ran his fingers over the picture frame that Fin had dug up the archives with their help, one of the first photographs of Munch when he joined the force. He snorted.

“And now I suppose I still have to share my cake with you, despite the fact you enjoy reminding me I’m old, bah.”

There were some chuckles, some grins and some shrugs. Fin was busy glaring at the gloating cat to say much. After the small incident, which slightly corroborated his claims that indeed, Munch owned a hell spawned beast of doom, the three guests shared small smiles at his words.

“Stupid cat.”

*~*~*

Garfield had become a constant in their lives at some point, but Fin couldn’t really say when. Maybe it was after the first time the cat had learned to hide into cabinets only to jump at him whenever he tried to open them. Or maybe it was after it allowed him to sleep in bed with Munch again. Or maybe it was after it hid in the backseat of the car and Fin had to patiently explain to Craigen that yes, that’s a cat that was shredding their files, and yes, sadly they owned, and no, really, it wasn’t his fault.

Maybe it was after Munch was shot during a trial and Garfield had gone and snuggled up to him that night, when he was having trouble to sleep in the lonesome bed. The ball of warmth settled against his chest and began purring almost soothingly.

“Yeah,” Fin told it with a wry smile, running his fingers over the small head and for once not getting them bitten or scratched for his efforts, “I miss him too.”

Garfield purred until he fell asleep.

*~*~*

Them being together, Fin and Munch, had carried varied reactions through out the precinct. From mild disbelief – Novak still thought Munch was straight and just pretending, since he still ‘flirted’ with her; Olivia felt a surge of pity for the poor girl – to undeniable amusement – Elliot had a bet going with himself, a bit sad really, about who would end up killing whom and when – to bewilderment – Craigen still tried to figure out why two cacophonic creatures like those two could share everything and not spill blood – to simple content – like herself, who was simply happy her friends were happy and not restoring to violence.

But the day Olivia really figured out Munch and Fin were right being together was after the incident in court. After they released Munch from the hospital – he had threatened to remove the nurses’ organs if they didn’t let him go – with stern instructions to remain inactive and rest, so Craigen had allowed them to take a few files for him to entertain himself with while he recovered. It wasn’t even legal, but they feared for Fin’s safety and Munch’s sanity and Craigen was willing to turn a blind eye on them for a while. That day, she used the spare key Fin had given her and slid into the apartment with familiar ease, only to find her friends in the kitchen.

The sight of Munch staring at Fin with the same thinly veiled hunger with which Garfield was staring at Byrd was disturbing in an oddly endearing way.

Cat, bird, gruffy detective and cranky cynic pained a really home-y image.

Of course it only lasted for about two more seconds, since Garfield did jump in her daily attempt to catch Byrd’s cage and failed miserably as she slid down the wall with a whine. And Munch balled up a napkin and threw it to his partner’s head, causing him to burn himself with the egg’s oil and let out a string of profanity about ‘ungrateful, spiteful bastard that just couldn’t die, could he?’.

Another snarking fight ensured, so Olivia let them be when Garfield decided to take matters into her furry paws and moved from her sulking to her target.

Olivia grinned to herself when Fin’s yowl caught her at the door.

Weird, strange, unlikely and quite possibly apocalypse-inducing, but those two would be fine. Even with the cat.