Summary: Sequel to Enharmonic Interval. (You might want to read it before going on…but it is long.) Fluff; no casefic.
Note: Mildly AU.
Betas and cheerleaders: EI had one burning question from so many people. Here's the answer…
Genre: General Humor
Pairing: Ducky/OFC
Rating/Warnings: Rated T
Spoilers: None.
Time frame: December 2009
Disclaimer: All NCIS characters are the property of Bellisarius Productions, Paramount, CBS and the appropriate copyright holders within those companies. All other characters for this story (barring real persons mentioned in passing) are my original creation and property.
Enharmonic Interval—Kitten on the Keys
After so many years alone—well, without the day-to-day company of another adult on an intimate, personal basis, as opposed to an adult child or failing parent in residence—as well as so many years apart from one another, Dr. and Mrs. Donald Mallard were easing into married life. They hadn't had forty years together to become accustomed to each other's habits, quirks and foibles. Add in adjusting to sudden parenthood of the aforementioned adult child (divorced, dating and in a serious relationship), grandparenthood of a teen and two young adults and pending great-grandparenthood… it was a lot to adjust to in a short period of time.
Right after Thanksgiving they started off with Ducky going 'home' to McLean on the weekends and Elizabeth going 'home' to Reston for a couple of days during the week and it seemed to work pretty well. Tori had started dropping hints that she planned to be off on her own after Rowena graduated from high school the next spring; Ducky was loath to part with his house (it was paid in full—equity, for heaven's sake), and Tori had fallen in love with its' old fashioned charm. He was becoming comfortable with the idea of Tori taking over the house, while he moved into Elizabeth's; "Blue" Francher moving in and sharing the residence was another matter. The fact that Tori was an adult, a parent in her own right, did nothing to change this. (It took great effort not to speak out about her occasional overnight visits to Blue's house; that Elizabeth was comfortable with the situation helped. Minutely. The slight guilt over the fact that he and Elizabeth spent several nights together before getting married was another ping.)
The only problem he had was leaving the kittens that Ro had given him alone to their own devices for two, three or even four days running.
"Have they done anything?" Rowena asked.
"Well, no, but—"
"What do they do—destruction-wise—when you are home?"
"Well, nothing much—yet—but—"
"Cats are wonderfully self-sufficient creatures," she said. (It miffed him slightly to hear his words quoted back at him.)
"True—but they're left alone so much… and idle hands—or paws—"
She sighed. "You could just bring them here…" She looped her arm through his elbow. "We wouldn't mind having you here all the time, too…"
"Working on that." Each side of the equation was understanding of the other… with the exception of Mother. She wanted all of them under one roof—all, including her, and preferably the one roof being in Reston. Ducky figured if he had to live in a two-story house, better to live in one with a Jacuzzi in the master suite, so he was happy to make the change. (Mother, however, was staying put right where she was.)
"By the way—what have you named them?" Ducky gave her a guilty look and an apologetic smile. "Oh… Papa…" she said, sighing in disappointment.
That Saturday found the family—plus Abby, who was rapidly becoming a permanent fixture—sitting around the living room trying to name two silver tabby kittens who, unconcerned with their lack of appellation, handle or moniker status, ignored everyone and everything and roamed about their new home exploring every corner and convincing Vichette that hiding was a good plan. A very good plan.
It is rumored that Stephen King wrote The Running Man in one weekend.
The original Little Shop of Horrors was filmed in two days.
It took ten months for The Mikado to go from an idea on paper to stage performance.
Why, Ducky wondered for the dozenth time that day, is it taking so bloody long to name two cats?
They had started after dinner the night before; it was verging on two p.m. "Frick and Frack?" Rowena suggested.
"Damon and Pythias?" Abby countered. (She had been leaning toward classical names, knowing his fondness for literature.)
"One is a female," he reminded her.
"Eh, close enough."
Elizabeth snorted faintly. "Wanna bet?" There was quite a history of mis-gender-named pets in her household.
"Venus and Mars?" Tori tossed out.
"Too pop psych," Abby said with a dismissive headshake. "Tristan and Isolde?"
"Now, that would be a mouthful to call to dinner," Elizabeth said with a laugh.
"True," Abby sighed. "But they are pretty names."
One of the cats—Nameless or Anonymous—jumped onto the coffee table, circled once and gracefully sank into a coil of fur. Ducky was all for continuing to call them Nameless and Anonymous—it wasn't like they'd respond to anything besides a can opener anyway.
"Ebony and Ivory?" Ro suggested half-heartedly. "Not that the coloring matches, really, but…"
Tori shuddered. "Please. Didn't like the song the first ten thousand times. Don't think I could stand yelling, 'Ebony! Ivory!' out the back door another ten thousand."
"Coke and Pepsi? Salt and Pepper? Bacon and Eggs? Ice Cream and Hot Fudge?" Elizabeth had a definite pattern going.
"Is that a hint?" Ducky asked.
"Starving," she admitted. "You were going to take us all to lunch."
"Rowena said we couldn't leave until 'the poor creatures are named,'" he said with a dramatic sigh.
"For goodness' sakes, let's name them!" his wife said (just a hair snappishly).
"How about Goodness and Sakes?" Abby suggested with a giggle.
"You're getting punchy," Ducky observed.
She threw an arm over the shoulders of her adopted sister. "We were up late last night."
"I know," Ducky, Elizabeth and Tori said in perfect synchronization.
"It wasn't that bad," Abby protested.
"Oh, yes, it was!" Another Greek chorus. Abby looked chagrined. (Ro did not.)
"Moriarty and Holmes? We've had enough mismatched cats in the past, it really doesn't matter," Tori said.
"And they chase each other like Sherlock and the Professor," her youngest added with a grin.
"Hopefully not over the Reichenbach Falls," Ducky said drily.
At that moment the second kitten, the female of the sibling pair, jumped up and upon discovering the coffee table already occupied tried to execute a midair turn and bank with limited success. She landed squarely on her fluffy brother who, taking great exception to this disturbance, turned tiny teeth and claws on his sister and tried to remove one or two of her nine lives.
"Gilbert and Sullivan?" Elizabeth suggested. "Martin and Lewis? Right now they get along almost as well…"
The furry tumbleweed fell off the table and scrambled/rolled from point to point, rebounding off table and chair legs, the entertainment center, the wall, anything in their path, all the while hissing, snarling and bitching in tiny kitten voices.
Ducky gave Rowena a dark look. "You promised they would be 'no problem.'"
"They aren't a problem. They're just playing," she said with wide, innocent eyes. A screech from the shorthaired silver tabby made her flinch. "Honest."
The ball of fur, fangs and claws separated and the little girl took off for the music room, brother not far behind. "Truck and trailer," Elizabeth said with a laugh and a small sigh. Tori nodded with a look of recognition. Seconds later they returned in reverse order. "Trailer and truck." His wife laughed harder at the return trip. The cats bounced from room to room, Abby wondering aloud if they'd need to name two or just one at the end of the day.
Ducky winced. While the dogs had been more work, they were also less… boisterous.
"They're just playing…" Rowena said again.
"You said, and I quote, 'all the kittens from this litter are really mellow,' end quote," her grandfather said, fixing her in his firm gaze.
"Cats are notional," Elizabeth said reasonably. "If you think they're 'a,' they're 'b.' If you think they're 'b'—"
"They're 'q,'" Tori finished.
"A cat, by any other name is still a sneaky little furball that barfs on the furniture," Abby quoted with a grin.
"Not helping the cause, here," Rowena hissed, nudging her in the ribs.
"Truth in advertising?" Abby said hopefully.
Something in the music room fell with a crashing thud, followed by the sounds of another round starting between the kittens. "More like, 'let the buyer beware,'" Tori said grimly, getting up to assess the damage.
Thus when they went to lunch they celebrated the naming of the kittens: Caveat and Emptor.