Late last year I had the thought that it would be interesting to write a story centred around Tank and his cats. The idea quickly spiralled into a a bizarre little AU in my head, so, here begins a series of one-shots for your (and my) entertainment.

Life is Better with Cats

1: Home is Where the Cats Are

Tank let a relieved sigh fall from his lips as he closed the door to the apartment behind him. Turning to drop his keys in the dish on the side table, he smiled as Binx jumped up beside it with a soft chirrup of greeting. Tank extended his hand to offer pats and waited patiently while the cat sniffed the new scents lingering on his skin from the day. With his curiosity satisfied, Binx thrust her head into Tank's hand and the rubbing commenced. It was all part of the routine, seemingly small and inconsequential, but Tank knew it was important not only for himself, but for his furry roommates as well.

"I'm gonna grab a sandwich," he informed Binx, leaning down to nuzzle the top of the cat's head. "Gather your brothers and sisters and we'll have a debrief."

Binx wasted no time in leaping from the table and bolting down the hallway, off in search of the others.

Tank bent to undo the laces of his boots and smiled when he felt a set of claws sink into the fabric at the back of his cargo pants, followed by a pulling sensation as Ambrose climbed him like a tree and settled on his upper back, waiting for him to finish with his task and straighten so that he could take up his usual position on Tank's shoulder.

"How was your day?" Tank asked of the blondish cat, holding a hand up to steady it as he stood upright once more.

Ambrose was one of the first fosters Tank ever took in when he retired from the military. Being a Scottish fold munchkin meant that in addition to having ears that were folded over instead of straight, his legs were so stumpy that his belly almost scraped the ground. His short stature had drawn Tank to him immediately, a protective urge washing over him that only strengthened when he learned that Ambrose's breeding meant that he was susceptible to problems with his spine and ears. And in carefully tending to his health conditions, Tank had swiftly fallen in love with the little dork. For a time, it was just Tank and Ambrose against the world. Their bond was irreplaceable.

As Tank made his way toward the kitchen to prepare the sandwich, he'd mentioned to Binx, he found he had to tread carefully as a white fluffball started winding through his legs, relentless and purring. "No, I haven't forgotten you, Miss Tiddles," he assured her, scrubbing his massive, socked foot along her side as he paused at the counter. "Can't forget you. You'd never allow it."

Over the years Ambrose and Tank opened their home to more cats, adopting one more and fostering others on and off. Currently, he had two permanent fur babies: Ambrose, and Tiddles. And fostered three more: Cinnamon a domestic short hair, Binx the Bengal and her bonded partner Hunter. His small apartment had never felt more alive than the day he brought Binx and Hunter home. Never before had he encountered two cats that could get into as much mischief as those two managed on a regular basis. It was clear Binx was the ringleader, so he'd been trying to channel the energy into good habits, as much as anyone could train cats.

"You would not believe the day I've had," Tank sighed, leaning his head back against the couch as he felt the cushions beside him depress with the weight of his feline family gathering around. Ambrose was still on his shoulder, settling into a modified loaf position while Binx and Hunter sat themselves on the back of the couch on either side of Tank's head like sentries, or perhaps the shoulder angel and devil you often see in cartoons. He felt movement against his left leg and peered down to find Tiddles's white paw inching across the black fabric of his cargo pants toward the plate he held.

"Not yours," he growled, jostling his leg to dislodge her. She let out a soft meow, shot him a glare and curled up in a ball facing away with a huff. With the sandwich out of harm's way, Tank decided it was probably best not to tempt fate any longer, though, and brought it up to his mouth for a large bite. The cats all watched on with hungry eyes, longing for the human food, but having already learned that it wasn't going to happen, they didn't bother attempted to steal a bite. Only Tiddles was stupid enough to still try. Although, Tank reasoned, that could be due to her inherent need for attention.

He chewed and swallowed before starting in on the daily debrief.

"First call-out of the day was one Stephanie Plum," he explained using his free hand to bat away a stray tail that was wiggling by his ear. He glanced around at the cats and nodded. "I can tell by your silence that you're all shocked by this news," he added sarcastically, taking another bite of his sandwich, and continuing to talk around his mouthful. "A car explosion," he said. "You probably heard it from here. She was all right, though. Just a little shaken. I gave her a lift to her parents' place to pick up Big Blue because she's going through one of those independent phases where she wants to prove she doesn't need Ranger's help."

Ambrose made a little grumbling noise in Tank's ear, nuzzling closer, and Tiddles let out another huff. As permanent residents of Chez Tank, the pair had been listening to tales of Steph's disasters for years, and likely knew where her refusal of a Rangeman vehicle would land her: hot water, yet again. And being that they were particularly averse to getting wet, Tank imagined the idea was rather horrifying to his feline roommates.

"I know," Tank agreed. "Maybe she'll learn one day that asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, but unfortunately today was not that day. She barely accepted the help I offered her."

He took a moment to eat a bit more of his sandwich while Hunter yawned and lay down with his front paws resting on Tank's shoulder. "I had a few house calls over the course of the morning," Tank went on, scratching him under the chin with his free hand. "Nothing out of the ordinary, just a couple of walkthroughs, although I did have a redecorating job after lunch. That was fun. Then there was a bunch of phone calls and paper work on some new accounts and a meeting with Ranger and the rest of the Core Team to finish out the day."

Binx let out a clicking noise of protest as Tank popped the last corner of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Oh, you don't think that warrants my exhaustion, huh?" he asked, nudging her with his head. "That's probably because I left out the part were Cal and Hal, who are on Bombshell duty this week, sent out an SOS because their SUV exploded and they not only had no transport, but had lost track of Steph. So, I had to go out and find her." He paused sliding his attention from Binx to her partner in crime. "And guess where she was."

The cats each gave a reply ranging from a stretch and a yawn, to a soft chirp, all the way to a long suffering me-ow! Even the fosters had been around long enough to pick up on the fact that Steph was always finding herself in all kinds of trouble.

"You guessed it," Tank nodded. "The dumpster. That girl just can't seem to get enough of it."

Ambrose gagged and used Tank's chest as a ladder, climbing down from his perch and continuing down the gentle ramp Tank had constructed to save the cat's little legs and poor back and hips from the impact of jumping from the couch on the daily, stalking from the living room and grumbling like the little old man he was at heart. Tiddles wasn't far behind, practically leaping to her feet and holding her fluffy tail high in the air. She paused at the doorway, turning back to Tank with her typical haughty expression as she gave a loud meow to let him know she was leaving.

"Yeah, yeah," Tank replied, waving her off just as Cinnamon crept out from under the coffee table and jumped up on the cushion beside him, filling the space Tiddles had just vacated and curling as close to his side as she could. "You know you can join us when they're still here," he said quietly to the nervous cat, gently stroking a hand down the length of her short coat before moving to rub idly at her shoulder. "They're not gonna hurt you." Her little purrrup as she climbed into his lap and nuzzled butted her head against his lap, though, just made his heart melt.

As soon as he'd seen the little tortoise shell cowering in the back of the pen at the shelter, he knew he had to try to befriend her and coax her out of her shell. Hunter and Binx had been bounding around, play fighting, and chasing a small foam ball, but as he approached the kitten in the corner, they'd redirected their attention to his ankles, trying to dissuade him from his chosen path. He'd paused, stared down at them for a moment before offering each a pat. Seemingly satisfied that they'd distracted him and protected their friend, they'd returned to their playing, but Tank took their warning under advisement and moved to sit down exactly where he was.

It took almost an hour for Cinnamon to work up the courage to slink across the short distance to him, hesitantly sniffing at the hands he'd extended toward her, but not long after that, she was climbing into his lap and hunkering down as other shelter cats ran past. And that was the end of that. He knew he had to offer her a place in his home and his growing family of cats. That was three months ago, and while Cinnamon had grown more comfortable in his home, she was still wary of Ambrose and Tiddles, preferring to keep her interactions with Tank to when they weren't around.

For a few minutes, Tank just sat quietly with his fosters, letting them absorb his calm as he continued giving details about the parts of his day he'd skipped over with the others. He liked to spend the extra time with them, getting them familiar with human interaction and teaching them all how to be calm for at least a little while. It was as much an important part of his work in readying them for adoption into a loving family, making sure they could behave and be still, as ensuring they could cope with the unexpected.

And speaking of unexpected: the sound of a cat landing on his balcony alerted Tank to a visitor. Binx was at the sliding glass door in an instant, pawing at it and meowing as Hunter parkoured across the room to join her. And just as quickly, Cinnamon vanished practically into thin air.

"Who's come to visit?" Tank asked the pair at his feet, stooping to dislodge Hunter's claw from the curtain when he swatted at it just as Tank was drawing it back. He and Binx were pacing back and forth as their foster dad slid the glass back and flipped on the outside light to illuminate the sleek black cat seated stoically on the other side of the screen door. "Ranger," Tank greeted, staring down into the calculating eyes. "Was there something you needed?"

The cat let out a low meow, and paced away from the door, glancing over his shoulder at the large black man.

"Understood," he replied, as though he'd just received a directive. "I'll keep an eye on the situation." And with that assurance, the black cat leapt onto the railing and disappeared into the night.

Thanks for reading. I will be leaving this marked as incomplete as I have a few ideas for future tales (tails? :P) to tell about Tank in Cat Land. Updates will be sporadic, but each on will be a one-shot.