The sunlight spilling in through the huge windows plays across the bed. John stretches a little, arching his back. He's naked beneath the soft quilt, he moves carefully enjoying the sensation of high thread-count Egyptian cotton which envelopes his body.

She doesn't move, she's curled under his chin, resting against his chest. He can feel her purr vibrating through her body and into his. His hand comes up and curves around her neatly curled up body. She stays in place but turns over, presenting her soft belly fur for his fingers to rub. The purring gets louder.

He rubs her soft coat, time was she fit into his hand and into his pocket, she's always been neat and self-contained not like Bear, all legs and angles John smiles to himself.

But she's a big girl now. Fully grown.

He'd never really thought of himself as a cat person before. Until that day.

Pouring rain. The one thing that New York excelled at, more perhaps than anything else, rain that came down with such force that it rebounded on the pavement and came back up to soak you a second time. He was drenched, hurrying, the latest number was tucked up safe and sound, he'd dropped the appropriate care package off outside the 8th. He was headed for a sencha green tea, and a good coffee, and probably some muffins, followed by a dry set of clothes.

The pavement was slick, soaking wet, and even though he was normally as sure-footed as a mountain goat, he slipped as he rounded the corner. He went down on one knee, hard into the pavement, the jolt was excruciating. He stayed down for a second, fighting the pain that swam through his senses and cursing the mis-step that had brought him to this pass. He was about to get to his feet when he heard it.

Waaaah!

It was a quiet, almost apologetic little squeak. If he had been standing up he never would have heard it. He turned his head and peered under the parked car. A pair of frightened blue eyes peered at him down a long, patrician nose.

Waaaah!

Ignoring the pain in his battered knee, John stretched out his hand, and the kitten moved a little closer. He kept very still, ignoring the pouring rain and his throbbing knee, tentatively the little nose touched his hand.

The little nose nudged his hand gently a couple of times, then a tiny pink tongue lapped at his fingers, he was starting to shiver with how cold he was, and his knee was still throbbing but he kept still. Finally the little triangular head slipped beneath his hand, and the kitten began to purr.

He turned his hand then, ever so slowly and lifted the kitten. Easing himself to his feet, with a muttered curse at the painful throbbing increasing in his knee, he cradled the kitten in his hand.

The poor little thing was getting soaked, he pulled his coat and jacket aside and placed the kitten against his chest, pulling the coats back over, the tiny creature was sheltered there a little from the elements. The purring increased.

He ran then. Forgetting coffee and tea and sweet things, and the pain in his knee. He had to get back to the library and get the little one dried off and find him some food and water.

[][][][][][][][]

Finch stares at the funny little scrap that John carefully lifts out of his drenched coat and jacket. Small, skinny, damp and grubby she may be, but even he who is not a particular fan of cats can recognize her patrician breeding.

John places her on the desk in front of Finch. She circles, sniffing this strange new environment, keeping an eye on the large lean thing that is eyeing her with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

"I found him under a car. He seemed lonely."

"Well, firstly Mr Reese, he is a She. A very particular She. She is a Siamese."

Quite where Finch has learnt how to sex a kitten, and is familiar with breeds of cats Reese isn't sure. But he's hardly surprised. Under-estimating his employer's ability to do anything is something he learned to get over a long time ago.

Reese picks her up, and she settles in his hands, purring. She's delicate and pretty, now that her fur is a little drier, he can see her chocolate brown points, and the cream fur that is her body.

He lifts her up, studying her, and she reaches a long, dainty paw out and pats him on the cheek.

Finch sighs. He should be annoyed. But somehow he can't be. John is John, the man has a big heart and it is no surprise that in a rainstorm and a matter of a few blocks, he has somehow found something small and defenseless to save.

"Does she have a name?" He asks. He has survived the addition of a large book-eating hound, he's sure he can cope with a kitten.

It's on the tip of John's tongue to call her Jessica, after his long dead love. But that doesn't seem to fit. She is already her own personality. "Ming." He says, after some thought.

Finch nods. It seems appropriate.

Bear watches them. Alpha brings in this strange small thing. He moves a little closer, puts his nose up for a sniff.

Quick as a flash her paw shoots out, and slaps him on the nose. Bear yelps in surprise, and then looks sheepish, something so tiny and ridiculous cannot get the better of him.

John puts her down, and ruffles Bear's fur. The Mallinois leans into his Alpha and sighs. The funny small thing has sharp edges.

[][][][][][][][]

Ming grows fast. Alongside the Doggy Danishes are cat treats of high quality, although they establish pretty quickly that her preferred options are chicken and cheese. With the dog toys come cat toys. Small bouncing balls, things with feathers…

The competition begins with the rooster dog toy. Expensive, from an upmarket dog store. John buys it one afternoon, and Finch performs emergency squeaky surgery on it by nightfall. Bear being a dog of strong fixations.

Finch goes out for a tea one afternoon, and returns to find Reese sitting in his customary chair watching the animals with amusement. Bear is on his bed, looking particularly unhappy.

Ming is lying a few feet away, rooster clutched to her chest with her front paws, she has her teeth in its neck and is watching Bear and growling to herself as she batters rooster with her hind feet.

Bear raises his head at Finch's approach, then turns his face away from the spectacle and drops his nose on his paws.

Finch sighs. He can see Bear's point of view. He's learned that taking rooster away from Ming will not be easy. Dog's have owners, cats have staff. The only person that Ming pays any attention to is Reese.

Ming always goes home with Reese.