The familiar sound of pots and pans hitting each other rang out through the house, and Kayla groaned loudly. She turned over with the intention of stuffing her face into her pillow and blocking out the noise with a barrier of cotton, but instead of the soft and fluffy material of her pillow, she found her face pressed again what seemed to be a… person.
A person with a weird laugh at that.
She froze, and her hand immediately came up to slap the chest. Whoever it was she was pressed against, grunted from the force of her hand. The room was deathly quiet. Her hand felt around, occasionally slapping to check if what she was feeling was alive.
“Cher, could you ease up with the slapping? I think you are leaving marks on my supple skin…”
Kayla yelped, pushing herself back and the man off her bed. The back of her head met with a forehead and a soft squeal of pain came from behind her. Laughter erupted from two other people, and Kayla shot upwards into a sitting position, disoriented and scared.
“Who’s there? Do you want to die?!” She grabbed a large pillow, swinging it around as if it was a dangerous weapon. Her eyes landed on four other people in the room, thought they looked fuzzy. She blinked a couple times and looked again.
The blonde in American-flag undies was the first to pipe up. “Morning, dudette!”
With a short scream, a sound that was muffled by the pillow she shoved in her own face, she rolled off the bed and tackled the guy who spoke, beating him mercilessly with the pillow. Her eyes remained clenched shut and she wacked him again and again with the soft pillow. He tried telling her to stop between the pillow punches, but he was only cut off when the pillow made contact with his face again.
More laughter erupted from another man, and Kayla pressed the pillow into the guy’s face and looked at the cackling one in front of her. She first saw his ridiculous eyebrows, and her own eyebrows furrowed and a bewildered expression showed on her face. He kept laughing to himself, until he opened his eyes to show a vibrant emerald pair of eyes. She stepped on the stomach of the man below her and launched herself at the other guy, punching him with her trusty pillow.
“YOU CAME TO THE WRONG BEDROOM, YOU BUNCH OF PERVERTS.” She shouted, wrestling the green-eyed man now below her. He tried to hold her arms back so his face wasn’t bombarded by a fluffy rectangle. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?!”
“DIE” She growled, rolling off him and grabbing a nearby book. She tossed it at his head, and it hit its mark right above his ear. He yelled and threw the book to the wall, rubbing his head. A hand landed on her shoulder and a man with long blond hair looked at her.
“Cher, there is no need for violence~ Most of us are tolerable” The French-sounding man sent a pointed glance at the mourning Englishman. The man who Kayla first chose to assault with a pillow sat up, adjusting his glasses and looking dazed.
A large man, in a scarf and in undies that resembled the Russian flag, stepped forward, his eyes closed and a small smile on his pale face. Kayla looked up at him, then turned her attention to the Frenchman.
“You there, Frenchie!” She hissed, pushing the pillow into his face forcefully. He grunted and she pushed him off her. She stood up, hopping onto her bed and pressing her back against the headboard. She held up her pillow threateningly, looking at each person in the room other than herself.
The guy with the glasses and the normal-sounding voice, the dude with the green eyes and the British accent, the guy with the long hair and the French accent (who Kayla figured was the one in her bed), and the big guy with the big nose and scarf.
Her eyes hardened, and she gasped when a tiny, timid voice came from her side. She looked down to see another man, with violet eyes behind glasses and a particularly large curled hair poking into the air, peering up at her from the floor next to her bed. He put a tentative hand on the mattress and she pointed the pillow at him, making him sweat nervously.
“I… uh… Th-there’s no need to , uh, worry. We’re… okay…?” He looked like he felt he was lying when he said that last bit, and Kayla raised a brow. He slowly stood up, blushing hard at his lack of clothes.
Kayla sort of blushed to when she noticed his Canadian flag underpants and realized all the other intruders were only in underpants too.
Regardless, she raised her pillow. “Who are you?”
The soft-eyed man raised his hand, as if the pillow was a loaded gun. “Uh…”
“Your cats.”
She spun around, looking at the guy with the scarf. She pointed the pillow at him even though a creeping feeling told her that it wouldn’t do any good. “Did you say that?”
The man grinned and opened his eyes, looking down at her. She shrank under his stare, holding her pillow to her face. “I did.”
“Wait a minute.” She put her pillow down, getting up and walking over to the tall Russian. “Boss?” He chuckled shortly before nodding. Kayla’s jaw went slack and went about the room, poking everyone as she recognized them.
“Ace?” She poked the man she first attacked. He laughed loudly and pulled her in for a small noogie that she didn’t appreciate. “Yep!”
She approached the Englishman, pointing a finger in his face before poking his nose, “Crumpet?” He swiped her finger away with a light scowl. “That was the name you gave me, yes.”
She walked over to the Frenchman, and she poked his forehead and regarded him a bit coldly. “Romeo.”
“Ah, cher, you know me so well to have given me that name~” He tried to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she stepped back before he could. She stood there for a bit before gasping and turning to the man in the Canadian underpants. He jumped slightly, looking alarmed as she stepped closer with her hand raised. She poked the spot right above his collarbone, but not his throat. “Maple.”
Her voice was softer than when she addressed the others. “Maple” had wondered why.
More banging came from downstairs, and Kayla groaned. She turned back to everyone else, taking “Maple” by the shoulders and moving him to stand with the rest of her “cats” .
“If you guys really are my kittens,” she put her hands on her hips, “then there should be six of you.”
She heard the bang again and she slapped her palm against her forehead with another groan. She put on a pair of slippers and ran to the door, turning around quickly. She pointed a finger to her eye and pointed it at the men staring back at her.
“Steal anything and I will chase you down.”
