Chapter Text
The first thing Erik noticed when he awoke was his distinct lack of thumbs.
Opening his mouth in a yawn, Erik stretched, curling his back and reaching out with his paws—
Hang on.
Paws?
He jumped mid-air, whirling around. Erik was on all fours, but despite his best efforts, could not make himself stand upright. Also, there was a weight at his back like something—
A tail?
Erik scrambled, looking for the nearest reflective surface. There was a small puddle of water pooling in the divot near him. He looked into its mirrored expanse.
A black cat stared back at him.
Erik yelled, but what came out was instead a pitiful yowl.
“Who was that?”
A familiar voice echoed from around the corner. Erik looked up and watched as the familiar figure of his youngest cousin, Shuri, came into view. She looked mildly disheveled, shirt hanging off her lanky frame, as she paddled barefoot to over where Erik lay.
“Hey kitty,” she said, bending down to lock eyes with him.
At her gentle gaze, Erik hissed, swatting at her proffered hand.
“Aw.” Shuri was undeterred as she reached out slowly. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” she promised.
When she picked him up, Erik went limp, all the fight gone out of him. What was he going to do? Fight back? Against the Black Panther? At least this way, he might get some answers as to why the ancestors had decided to punish him this way.
“Where’s your owner?” Shuri held him up with one hand, examining him from all angles. “I think Nakia would have told me if she had a cat…”
Erik closed his eyes and prayed for this torture to be over.
“No collar…” Shuri murmured. “You must be a stray, poor thing.”
Well, at least she’d gotten that part right.
Erik watched with curious eyes as Shuri paced around the room, anxiety present in the hunch of her shoulders. He recognized the expression on her face as the same one he used to make when confronted with a distressing situation.
Though, in his case, he usually solved those issues with some combination of violence and chaos.
“I blew into the shell,” she said. “Where is he?”
Erik cocked his head. He knew who Shuri was speaking of, having been present in the Ancestral Plane when she took the heart-shaped herb, but he wasn’t aware that she had some sort of relationship with the man he had previously been encouraging her to kill.
“Oh Bast,” Shuri dropped her head into her hands. “What if he gave me a defective shell because he doesn’t intend to follow through with an alliance at all?”
An alliance? Suddenly, Wakanda was now so gung-ho about forging alliances? What happened to the whole isolationist thing?
Erik bristled. Of course when he had beseeched his cousins for their help and understanding, they had rebuffed him, choosing to keep Wakanda’s technological advances away from the outside worlds. And now, after all the trouble he’d gone through, including his death of all things, Wakanda was going to so easily open their arms to fish people?
Where was this eagerness when he appeared at Wakanda’s borders? Why didn’t they take him as seriously as this Nay-mor guy? Was it because he was born a king and Erik wasn’t?
Erik raised his hackles, hissing at Shuri, who wasn’t even paying attention to him.
It wasn’t fair. Erik had worked so hard to secure an alliance between Wakanda and the rest of the world, meanwhile Shuri nearly killed the guy and now they wanted to play ball.
A nefarious plan began forming in Erik’s head, but just before the roots of this scheme could take place, a knock sounded at the window.
“Namor!” Shuri called and quickly unlocked the window.
The man in question slid through the open frame, landing on the floor soundlessly. Water dripped from his hair and Erik wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of salt and fish emanating from the man.
“Princess,” said Namor, inclining his head. He then looked over to the bed where Erik sat. “What is that?”
“It’s a cat,” said Shuri, shrugging. “I found him outside and he didn't look like he had an owner, so I took him in.”
“Taking in strays?” The man said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Only cute ones,” she shot back, but there was no heat in the glare she leveled at him.
Erik covered his eyes under his paws. This was nauseating, listening to the two of them. If he still had his human fingers, he would have shoved them in his ears.
Doing his best to ignore the spectacle in front of him, Erik began planning to plot. Even though T’Challa had actually listened to his requests and opened up Wakanda, it wasn’t enough. But, what if there was a conflict severe enough that Wakanda would have to make their presence known?
Erik peeked out from his furry paws, looking at Namor throughout slitted eyes. What if…what if he sabotaged their alliance? Got Namor angry enough to wage war on the surface? Then, Wakanda would have no choice but to intervene.
He grinned, but in his current form, could only muster the scrunched eyes and toothy expression.
This would be utterly diabolical.
He looked over at Shuri and back to Namor. The man was standing near her, but the casual lean of his body against the wall suggested he was comfortable in her presence, if a bit shy, judging by the way he reached to rub the back of his head. Shuri mirrored his pose, but her hands were clasped behind her back.
Ugh, these two were sickening.
However, Erik had a job to do and he wouldn’t let something so trifling get in the way of that. He was nothing if not determined.
Hoping off the bed, he strolled over to Namor. He extended his claws for the first time, appreciating the ease with which the sharp hooks slid out, and slid them across the man’s ankle.
“Ow!” Namor hissed, bending down to look at the injured ankle. Noticing Erik lying there, paw outstretched, he reached out for the cat, but was stopped by Shuri’s hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” She asked the man.
This was it, thought Erik. Namor would definitely be mad at Shuri for putting him in this situation and they would dissolve their alliance and then—
“I am fine,” replied Namor.
To Erik’s great surprise, Namor let Shuri lead him to a chair.
“It’s not serious, Princess,” he said, but he continued to let her fuss over him.
Sitting in the chair across Namor, Shuri grabbed his ankle and put it in her lap. She examined his ankle critically, turning it to look at the miniscule claw marks Erik had left behind.
After a few moments of silence, during which Erik was on edge the entire time, Shuri fiddled with the Kimoyo beads at her wrist. “I can fix your wing,” she said softly.
Namor stilled and took her other hand in his.
“You would have to come to my lab, though,” she continued, “and I would need a sample of your DNA, which I assume is going to be different than regular human DNA, so it might take a while and—”
“Thank you,” said Namor, looking deeply into her eyes. “Thank you, Shuri.”
Shuri shut her mouth. And thank God for that, thought Erik. If he had to sit through any more of this—whatever the hell this was—he was going to claw someone’s eyes out.
“I still haven’t thought of a name for you.”
Erik was lying upside down on Shuri’s bed, which was actually very comfortable now that he thought about it.
Shuri reached over and ruffled the fur on his belly. Erik curled up and bit her.
“Owch,” she said, but the smile on her face suggested otherwise. “Sorry, I won’t do that again.” She ran her hand through the fur on his head. Erik was feeling particularly magnanimous, so he let her.
“What should I name you?” She asked him.
Erik would have scoffed, but he lacked the vocal means to do so. Instead, he meowed rather loudly.
“I don’t know what that means,” Shuri said. “But since you’re cute, but also sometimes a pain in my ass, I think I’ll call you Namor.”
Erik froze. Shaking his head free from under Shuri’s hand, he hopped off the bed and looked back at her rather forlornly. What the hell kind of name was that? Who named their pet cat after their boyfriend? So what, she would call him cat-Namor and her boyfriend person-Namor?
“Did you call for me, Princess?”
Ah, speak of the Devil and he will appear. Even Erik, with his heightened hearing and sense of smell, didn't notice Namor until he stood inside the room.
Shuri spun around. “What are you doing here?”
Namor shrugged, a strangely human gesture on him at odds with the name he had made for himself. “I heard you say my name.”
“From under the ocean?” Shuri crossed her arms.
“No,” replied Namor, “I was just outside and—”
As if only realizing now what he was admitting, the man snapped his mouth closed.
“And?” Shuri prompted.
“No matter,” Namor said, his face red beneath his beard, “I will go now.”
“You don’t have to go yet,” blurted Shuri, reaching for his arm.
Namor paused.
“I—I have to go over the prototype for your new wing!”
Namor finally turned around and Shuri dropped the hand on his arm as if she’d been burned. The two of them stood in silence, staring into each other’s eyes.
The silence was finally broken by Erik’s hacking noise.
Namor blinked. Once, twice. “I heard you say my name,” he said, reaching for her face. With one hand, he brushed a stray curl out of her eyes.
“Uh,” Shuri’s eyes flitted back and forth, “I was talking to the cat.”
Namor raised a brow, his hand frozen against her cheek. “You call the cat Namor?”
“Yes,” squeaked Shuri. She was clearly nervous now, lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if ready to bolt should the situation call for it. “Because he’s cute!”
Namor’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. The slight curl of his lips turned cocky, as one side tilted upwards into a smirk.
“And he irritates me,” Shuri finished, never one to let Namor have the last word.
“You wound me,” said Namor, but the smirk still hadn’t left his face.
Were they going to stand here all day? Erik had better things to do than bear witness to…this. Like, nap. Or bathe himself. Turning around, he flicked his tail at the couple behind him and padded off to somewhere quiet.
Erik curled his body into as small a shape as he could make it; he folded his paws under his chest and waited.
Above him, Shuri began to cross the lab—finally back on her home turf after an extended stay at Nakia’s cottage—her head turned as she spoke to Namor in quiet tones. The two of them walked in step, their feet mirroring one another.
From his angle on the floor, the two of them might have been holding hands.
Erik might have gagged if he was still in possession of his human faculties. He kept still as Shuri drew closer.
When the tip of her foot caught under his soft underbelly, Erik nearly rolled over. Bracing himself against the impact, he watched as Shuri slowly began to tip forward.
Finally! Erik thought to himself. It was the smallest of victories, merely a trifle in the grander scheme of things, but in his current state, Erik would take anything. Shuri would trip and even if her Black Panther instincts kicked in, she would likely be humiliated enough to—
“Are you alright, Princess?”
Erik looked up and cursed his luck.
Namor stood with one hand braced on the nearest table. His other hand was pressed to the small of Shuri’s lower back.
Erik, in his cat form, was blessed—or maybe cursed—with exceptional eyesight. Even from his now-sprawled out position on the floor, he could see the way Namor held his face close to Shuri’s, their foreheads almost touching.
Shuri placed her hand on Namor’s chest, gently pushing him again. He helped bring her to a standing position.
“Thank you,” she said to Namor, her eyes still level with the hand she had pressed to the heavy gold and jade collar at his neck. The back of her neck flushed a dark red.
Nauseating, thought Erik to himself. Absolutely nauseating. The man hadn’t even kissed her, what was she blushing for? Was she—
Oh. Well, they were kissing now.
Pinching his face in the most displeased expression he could muster with whiskers, Erik shook himself off and stood up. With a flick of his tail, he sauntered off.
He didn’t really want to see where this was going.