[Reeve/Rufus] Kittens
Title: Kittens
Canon: Advent Children/Dirge of Cerberus
Theme + Number: 11. Black, 32. A friend in need, 69. Loyalty, 79. Small
Claim: Reeve/Rufus (romantic)
Characters/Pairings included: Reno
Rating: K
Warnings: none
Summary: Reeve finds Rufus a gift.
Spoilers: If you haven't seen all of Advent Children there might be one surprise for you.
"You have got to be kidding me," laughed Reno. "He's gonna flip. Completely." The pause was mere seconds before he asked, "How much to let me watch?"
Reeve smiled slightly, hugging the box close. "If you can keep from laughing, or smiling, you might well get to watch a lot." At Reno's yeah, right look he added, "How well does he handle being bored? Honestly."
"Got a point," Reno conceded. "But you know how he is about cute things. The boss does not do cute."
Reeve shifted the box in his arms to raise a hand. "He doesn't do cute where it will affect his reputation. And since Lifestream, the situation between him and you four has changed." His dark eyes looked directly into Reno's. "Hasn't it?"
Reno smiled. Reeve might have a soft spot bigger than most dragons, among many other executive flaws, but he was neither a fool nor a mouse. He nodded to that. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good," said Reeve firmly, and passed over the box. "Now. Toys, definitely including a laser pointer, and some live mice..." He headed down the aisles of the dilapidated store, a man on a mission. Reno looked down at the box, eyes widening as the sound of scrabbling paws could be heard.
"Uh...?" Reno asked, worried. "Reeve?" He started after the older executive, the box held in his arms as if it might go off. "Not the best guy to handle live animals, Reeve..."
It didn't help that Reeve's good-natured chuckles were quiet and almost directionless in the battered remains of the store. Running wasn't going to help though. Finally, Reno went to the door and stayed there, reasoning that whatever Reeve gathered he'd have to come to the door eventually.
He saw Cait first, the little felinoid tugging a wagon laden with pet supplies - grooming, feeding, toys, everything. Reeve came into view soon after, and held out his arms for the box, which Reno gladly surrendered. "It's just a kitten, Reno," Reeve laughed gently.
"Yeah, well," Reno replied, frowning. "Like I said. Not good with animals. We done here? It's a long drive."
Reeve nodded. "It's enough to start with. Really, with all the destruction, we're lucky to have a kitten alive and healthy." He nodded toward the wrecked store behind them; the cages that weren't broken open held only the sad corpses of dead pets. Both of them had been studiously ignoring the evidence of lives lost; at Reeve's comment Reno turned and headed back out to the vehicle - a rather upscale all-terrain vehicle, as one might expect for use of executives on safari. Cait Sith purred as it pulled the wagon toward the vehicle, loading the goods into it as Reno got it started and warmed up. Reeve slid the box with the kitten in it into the back seat before climbing in.
Reno just shook his head, laughing as he settled behind the wheel. "You realize you're the only man on the planet who'd even think of this. Never mind have any shot at getting away with it."
"And you'll get to watch," Reeve agreed as they set out. "Remember that, come the holidays."
"Oh...I will. I will."
~*~
The current base of operations for what was left of Shin-Ra, Inc. was a clinic once privately owned by Rufus' father. Billed, and even run to some extent as a 'private health spa', during the height of Shin-Ra's power it had served as a miniature resort for married executives. The medical staff had had to pass aesthetic as well as medical exams, and were paid exorbitant salaries to see to their clientele's every wish as well as their every need. Ringed by a well-tended, sound-muffling grove of trees, one could live in hidden bliss or unknown suffering here; the world outside its grounds would never know, either way.
In these post-apocalyptic days, under the ownership of Rufus Shinra, the playboy resort feel was gone. The doctors here were highly skilled, but paid for loyalty rather than sexual hijinks, and the halls that once had housed boom-boom rooms worthy of many a bragging executive's storytelling had been converted into research labs for the understanding and treatment of Geostigma. The few executives of Shin-Ra who had survived and remained loyal to the company - the number these days was understandably quite small - were given free use of the facilities so long as they kept word of the place away from the media, away from the public, and most especially away from Avalanche. The corporate name of Shin-Ra was mud these days, and the public name of Shinra wasn't much better.
Reno pulled the car up the drive, braking by the door. "You go on and take the stuff in," he said. "I'll get this parked. Just do me a favor and don't spring it on him without me there, okay?"
Reeve nodded. "Deal," he agreed, getting out. "Cait, take the goods inside, please. Keep them out of Rufus' sight until I say."
"Aye, serr," mewed Cait, immediately gathering up the supplies. Reeve hefted the scrabbling, meowing box out of the car and shut the door. "Shhh," he said to it. "It's okay. Just a little farther."
The clinic was not in entirely the best shape, but these days almost nowhere was. One put up with cracked plaster or broken windows if whatever purpose the space was being put to had no need of better. But Rufus' quarters were pristine and - for anyone that didn't know him well - surprisingly austere. Most expected silks and furs and gemstones, luxury in every detail. Reeve, setting the box down outside the door, knew better. Style was in every detail, and there was style in austerity as easily as opulence if one had the knack of it. Rufus did not waste his time investing in anything which might be easily taken from him. Expensive furs and silks were just for show, and show was no longer required. All a cat required for absolute style was itself, and Rufus had made that quintessential sense his own.
Which was what made it so hard to see him now. Standing by the window, gazing out with one good eye. The man could make bandages the height of fashion but it was heartbreaking in its way to see him having to. He turned, as the door opened; a brief smile flickered. "Oh. It's you. How's the restoration effort coming along?"
"I have a very large stack of reports for you to look through, when you're ready," Reeve answered quietly, his tone suggesting their offering to be something of a proferred gift as he approached. "I think you will find the WRO has not misused your donations."
Rufus was prickly today, sensitive; Reeve noted the lack of warmth or any embrace, and waited. Sometimes, the cat does not want to be petted. Try it anyway and feel its claws. Rufus paced, steps light and quick on the wooden floor. "...It's spreading down my shoulder," he said all at once. "In a few more months I'll have lost the use of my arm."
Do not pity. Do not lie. Reeve just nodded - acknowledgment, not agreement - and waited. The last thing Rufus would stand for would be to be considered an invalid, or weak. So Reeve made himself the weak one instead; he held out his hands palm up, put his wrists together before him, and held his hands out as he got down onto his knees. Outside these grounds, Reeve more or less ruled all the world that was left - but he did it his way. This way, by submission to its will. Not because he had to, but because he chose to. Rufus, who could deceive but never submit, understood it better than any. His hands enclosed Reeve's hands, the tight ferocity of their grip saying everything a proud throat would never speak of. Only when the tightness of Rufus' grasp lessened a bit did Reeve look up and say, "I've brought you a gift."
Rufus smiled. "Uh huh," he almost drawled. "Your gifts tend to be of a practical nature, especially lately."
"Not this time," said Reeve, smiling back as he got to his feet again. "Well. Mostly not."
"I knew it," chuffed Rufus, moving to sit primly on the bed. The cat was not going to admit tiredness. Not while Normal People would be out and about. He looked to the door as Reno appeared - that being the only word for what had clearly been the fastest run the Turk had engaged in without being shot at. "...You recruited Reno for this gift of yours? Now, I'm worried."
Light tone, but Reeve knew he couldn't drag the surprise out any longer. He ducked back into the hall, bringing the box in his arms. "Don't be," he answered, setting the box at Rufus' feet. "Just...tell me that it's right."
Reno leaned in the doorway, on Reeve's advice playing Turk to the hilt and not cracking the teeniest hint of a smile as Rufus blinked at the odd comment, then bent over to open the box. His good eye opened wide, lips parting as he reached down into the box. The kitten mewed as he shifted its weight to his good arm, purred as he pulled it onto his lap.
A young kitten, its eyes newly opened. Black furred, painfully thin but healthy enough for all that. Its tentacle was only a few inches long, trying to wrap around Rufus' wrist as he carefully petted it. A dark nation kitten.
"I've gotten everything you'd need to train it and care for it," Reeve offered quietly. "Some forest rangers found it. The rest of its litter is dead, and its mother."
Rufus looked toward the door first, but Reno didn't blink, didn't crack a smile, didn't offer one word of teasing - an effort that would probably cost the redhead severely later, but for now served to reassure. He petted the kitten carefully, breathing slowly for several minutes before he said, "You...are the only man on the face of this planet who believes any problem can be solved with the application of sufficient kittens. You do know that, right?"
Reeve grinned. "Yes. Will you look after this one for me? It will only die, without care. It's too young."
That got Reeve an I see what you did there glare; Rufus was no fool. But he was also not unwilling to take the offered option. "You understand it will be a huge inconvenience. These things are horrible attention whores."
Both men studiously ignored Reno's sudden, furious coughing fit.
"I understand," Reeve answered, smiling. "Thank you for putting up with it for me. I have...such a soft spot for cats."
The kitten, oblivious as such creatures are to the delicate byplay of language, rrrorwrred its high-pitched kitten growl and attempted to bite Rufus' fingers. Without apparently even noticing, the former President simply rolled the kitten onto its back, tickling at its belly and engaging all four paws and its jaws and tentacle in play at once. Old habits, perhaps.
"So," said Rufus quietly. "What did you bring for this little monster of yours? It seems to have a lot of energy."
"Cait," Reeve called out the door. "Could you bring in the toys, please?"
"...Ohdear," was Rufus' brief comment. "I shouldn't have asked, should I."
Soon enough the robotic cat was dragging in a sack of toys, setting them at Rufus' feet as it removed the box. "Herre ye arre, serr," it said cheerfully. "Should keep th' wee tyke busy."
Rufus looked the stack over. Balls, bells, dangling things, sparkling things, special wrappings that made lots of crinkly noises when played with, laser pointers, live mice... "Holy Ramuh, Reeve, did you clean out an entire store?"
Reeve looked sheepish even as Reno had another red-faced coughing fit. "Er..."
"I know, I know," said Rufus. He let go the kitten briefly, to catch Reeve's bearded chin in his good hand, tugging him in for a kiss. "You've got a soft spot for cats."
"Oh...yes."