Disclaimer: I own nothing, except, perhaps, the small grey cat.
AN: Reasons? Jack needed a pet. And I've known kittens he could love.
"The smallest feline is a masterpiece."
- Leonardo da Vinci -
Jack had never considered himself a cat person, and so it was no wonder that he was completely unprepared for Fred.
Their tail – so sorry, tale begins something like this…
T'was a dark and stormy morning, and along a slightly woodsy, but otherwise non-descript Colorado Springs road, a tabby was leading the smallest of her brood. This kitten was one she simply could not keep. There wasn't enough meat and milk to go round, and so the tiniest would have to take its chances with the two-leggers.
Finally stopping before one house, near the end of the street, the tabby picked up her charge, hopped up the veranda steps and sat before the front door. She set down the runt, licked its sodden fur as smooth as she could, and walked away.
Shivering, infant-blue eyes wide, the kitten watched her go. After a few minutes, when she did not return, it began to call for her. Minutes after that, the shivering became more violent, and the kitten simply did not have the energy to vocalize.
At that moment, the front door swung open.
"Ah crap."
There was a kitten on his doormat.
"Shoo," said Jack, who didn't have time for this, or much of anything really.
The kitten looked back at him. Its eyes were deep blue, and it had that cross-eyed, faintly ridiculous look all infant felines seem to have. It was also very, very wet. Grey fur that should have given the impression of cuteness and…furball-ness, instead lay flat and currently only served to make it appear pathetic.
Jack swore again. 'I like dogs,' he told his rapidly eroding resolve. 'And I don't have time for this. I'm going to be late!'
Then the kitten blinked, mewed at him, and he was lost.
'God help me,' he thought, scooping up the raggedy bundle of teeny-tiny cat and beginning the hunt for a small box and scrap towels.
To the kitten he muttered, "Just so you know, this is temporary. I still want a dog."
"Mew," squeaked the kitten, burrowing gratefully against his shirt and leaving a wet patch on his front pocket.
The ride to work was amusing at least. The kitten stood swaying in its box on the front passenger seat, forepaws braced on one side, facing into the nearest A/C vent and the stream of hot air blowing forthwith. It was beginning to dry out now, turning steadily fuzzy from the face downward, so that for a few minutes there, it looked like a tiny lion with a ridiculous puffball mane and soggy body.
Jack still had no idea what he was going to do with it.
He had been late for work when he'd opened the door this morning, only to be faced with the Puddle 'o Pathetic here. There had been no time to do anything else but bring the poor beggar with him. He knew he wouldn't be able to leave it in the car for the day either. Which meant the kit was well and truly coming to work with him today.
All of a sudden, Jack's inner demon-child made an appearance and gave him a wonderful idea.
Oh, this was going to be fun…
The first victim was the SF at the front desk that morning.
"Morning Colonel," he said.
"Morning Airman," Jack responded, signing the entry sheet and heading for the elevator.
As he went past, the SF twitched. He could have sworn he'd heard…but that was stupid.
There was no way there could be a cat in here.
Victim number two was the fairer half of Jack's best beloved Geek Twins.
"Carter," he said, sauntering on into her lab. "Isn't too early in the morning to be…dissecting innocent machines?"
"Never, sir," she answered breezily. She looked up at him and unleashed one of those grins that always seemed to lead to motorcycles and/or explosions. "After all, a mad scientist's work –"
"Mew."
Carter blinked. "Sir, did you…?"
Jack raised his eyebrows at her, affecting an innocent, questioning expression. "Hmm?"
"Um, nothing, sir." She smiled again and bent her head back to the desiccated whatever-it-was. "Anyway, I didn't eat before I got in, and if I don't have something Janet may very well skewer me. Want to grab something in –?"
"Mew."
Jack watched in delight as she straightened, blue eyes narrowed, and very carefully set down her screwdriver. "There it is again. Sir, I could have sworn I heard…" She trailed off, looking uncertain.
"Heard what, Carter?" he asked, all nonchalance and innocence.
She gave him a suspicious look for his trouble. "A cat, sir," she told him, eyes narrowing again. "I thought I heard a cat."
Jack hummed and rocked a bit on his heels. "Well, that's weird. You didn't bring Schrödinger in did you?"
"No, sir. Anyway, he mostly lives with my neighbours now. They're the ones who feed him when I'm on base."
"Shoulda gotten one of those auto-feeder things," Jack told her nodding sagely.
Another smile. This one was the humour-the-wacky-CO smile. "I'll take that under advisement, Colonel."
"Mew." Jack's pocket wriggled.
Carter's baby blues snapped onto him like laser-sights. The kitten emerged blinking from his shirt pocket. Jack grinned like a loon.
Then Carter began grinning, too.
"Colonel," she said, affecting a smirk. "Is that a kitten in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"
Jack laughed 'til he could barely breathe.
Fifteen minutes, an explanation and much fussing over a certain hairball later, she asked, "So, who's Victim Number Three?"
Jack walked in and Daniel sneezed. There was a pause as they both stood blinking in surprise.
"Uh, bless you," Jack said.
Daniel made a truly horrific snorting noise and muttered thickly, "thanks."
Jack frowned. "Danny, you ok?"
The archeologist coughed, gagged and finally managed, "allergies."
"Ooo-kay."
"Mew."
Daniel's head snapped up.
"What was that?" he asked. Or rather, it came out, "Wad was dad?"
"What was what?" said Jack.
"Mew."
Jack's pocket shifted in an ominous and furry fashion.
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"Jack," he bit out. "Pocket."
"Hmm?" Jack enquired. Then, looking down at the offending patch of fabric. "Oh!"
He lifted out the kitten and held it in one palm.
"Wow," he said cheerfully to the archaeologist. "However did that get in there?"
The briefing had been going beautifully, wonderfully, spectacularly to plan, other than the fact that Daniel kept pausing in his spiel to glower at him or sneeze, and Teal'c was regarding him with a stern but perplexed raised eyebrow. Hammond, bizarrely, was serenely oblivious to it all.
Carter kept on shooting smug little half-smiles that tied pleasant knots in his stomach, but when didn't they?
Things were coming to a close, and Hammond stood, gathering his papers and…
"Oh, and Colonel?"
Jack looked up. "Sir?"
"Do something about the kitten in your pocket, will you?"
And with that he swept from the room in all his portly glory, disappearing into his office and closing both door and blinds.
There was a rather abstracted pause.
Then.
"O'Neill, is this some custom of your people's that I have not yet been introduced to?"
"Wha…?"
Jack blinked at Teal'c, who looked steadily back. Then the kitten stuck its head out of Jack's pocket and peered myopically at both of them.
"Is it customary," the Jaffa clarified, "for members of your military to carry small felines concealed in their clothing? Should I not also acquire a feline to carry with me?"
Jack stared. Daniel snorted. Carter giggled.
Teal'c's left eyebrow went up.
The room exploded with howls of laughter, badly startling the technicians down in the control room.
Davis looked upwards, perplexed. "What the hell…?"
Harriman, clearly unfazed, said with a shrug, "SG-1."
AN2: So, thoughts, comments? Exploding bags of crap?