The Office Cat - for the Short Affair Challenge, 20th July

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Prompts: Howl, grey

Pretty much a direct sequel to my short affair fic from a couple of weeks ago, with the fish. Because spikesgirl58 pointed out that a couple of episodes later, there is mention of an office cat.

The Office Cat

The office was filled with women when Napoleon walked in, which wasn't something he would normally have a problem with. However, in this case they were unexpectedly all gathered around Illya's desk and making 'awww' noises - a reaction he had heard directed at his partner before, but not generally to his face.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

The crowd parted with looks of awkward guilt, revealing Illya sitting at his desk, holding a small, grey cat with a bandaged paw.

"Ah, good morning, Napoleon," he said, a glint in his eye that Napoleon didn't trust. "This time he really did follow me home. May I keep him?"

He sighed. Was it too late to go to Mr Waverly and demand that the Soviet government send another agent? "You know, I let you keep the fish with the express understanding that you wouldn't bring home a cat or a canary next.”

"I was not planning on keeping Shpion in our office," Illya explained as though that was obvious. "That would be cruel."

"Of course you already named it," he said resignedly.

"He's going to be the office cat," Belinda explained. "Like a mascot."

"We don't need a mascot," he said firmly. "And if we did, it wouldn't be a cat."

"He will help keep the mice away," Illya offered.

Napoleon stared at him. "And have you noticed many mice running around headquarters, tovarisch?"

"No, but if Mr Davies continues leaving plates of biscuits to go rotten in his office while he is away, it's only a matter of time," Illya argued.

"Biscuits?" Suzie blinked.

"Cookies," Napoleon translated. "And I think getting a cat might be overreacting to hypothetical mice."

"He'll be good company on nightshift," Linda said. "It can get very lonely sitting monitoring the relays by yourself."

He raised an eyebrow. "However the last thing you need is a cat distracting you from an agent needing help."

Illya swung round to look at him, the cat taking advantage of his movement to climb up his chest and perch on his shoulder. "As I recall, you have spent some late nights in communications yourself," he pointed out. "So either you need to concede that the ladies of Section IV are professional enough to avoid being distracted, or you need to admit that you think your own charms less distracting than a cat."

Everyone was looking at him. So when the intercom summoned him and Illya to Mr Waverly's office, that was something of a relief.

"So where did you find him?" he asked as they walked. Illya had thankfully agreed to leave the cat with Suzie for the moment.

"Outside Del Floria's,” Illya said. “He'd fallen in some broken glass. He could prove useful. Historically, Siamese cats were used as bodyguards for royal princesses."

Napoleon looked at him. "Well, I can see two problems with that. Firstly, we don't have any princesses. Secondly, that isn't a Siamese cat."

"That's not the point," Illya argued.

"Yes it is," Napoleon said. "Or else I might as well say that we should eat him because historically cats were used as a food source in Japan."

"I would not recommend it," Illya said seriously. "Cat meat tends to be tough and chewy."

He stared. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand exactly when Illya had eaten cat, but he stopped himself in time. It wasn't like he'd expect to get an answer. Oh, he could hazard a guess or two, but it would boil down to "When I was starving."

And little hints of revelation like that did tend to make it difficult for him to keep arguing. "You are extremely aggravating," he said with feeling.

Illya nodded gravely. "Thank you."

Mr Waverly was waiting for them inside. "Gentlemen," he said, nodding to them. "Come in and take a seat."

They did. And the door was hardly closed behind them when the air was split with an unearthly wailing noise.

"What the devil is that?" Mr Waverly demanded. "Something's howling out there."

Napoleon exchanged a meaningful look with Illya. This was one of the many reasons why animals shouldn't be allowed in the workplace. The fish, at least, were quiet.

"Yowling, sir," Illya said resignedly. "Cats don't howl, they yowl."

"Cats?" Mr Waverly repeated, standing up and crossing to open the door.

Just as Napoleon had expected, the cat was sitting forlornly outside the door, howling - or yowling - the place down.

Mr Waverly stared down at it for a second. "Quiet," he said sternly.

Probably Napoleon shouldn't be so surprised that the noise stopped at once. After all, Mr Waverly did have a way of commanding respect, was it really so astounding that it worked on animals too?

He watched as his boss bent down and picked the cat up by the scruff of its neck and inspected it solemnly. "Now where in the world did you come from?" he asked.

"Illya found him outside Del Floria's," Napoleon volunteered. "He'd cut himself on some broken glass, probably left over from the, uh, incident yesterday. Which does sort of make him our responsibility."

Illya blinked at him and he shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose it does," Mr Waverly agreed thoughtfully. "You know, there was a cat in one of our outposts during the war. An engaging little beast, and a devil for going after rats. I was quite heartbroken when he strayed into the minefield one day." He returned to his seat, the cat perched apparently happily in his lap. "What's his name?"

"Shpion, sir," Illya said.

Mr Waverly gave a snort of laughter. "Very appropriate. Alright, find him a place to sleep, organise a rota to make sure he's fed, and find him a collar with a badge that will keep him in the right areas and we'll say no more about it. Now, where were we?"

And that was apparently that. Huh. He wondered just what - or rather, who - he could persuade to follow him home...?

Comments

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Yep, you did - thanks! And clearly the cat had something against Napoleon....or maybe he was just looking for Illya?

[spikesgirl58.livejournal.com]

Only the cat know and he will never tell. :)

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

That kind of sounds like a passcode they might use in the show....

[spikesgirl58.livejournal.com]

Actually, it's sort of a line from TS Eliot "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" - The Name of Cats.

"But the cat himself knows, and will never confess"

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

So it is - d'oh!