A Persian's Tale: Scarred for Life 9
04/22/2009 -- 1268 words
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter (Rowling) or Gundam Wing (Bandai, et al.)
AN: Sorry for the long delay. This chapter has actually been ready for a few months but I never realized it. I've started chapter 10 so hopefully it will be up soon. SLK is next on the update list. Sorry but RL has just been a bitch recently.
PS: Un-beta'd
Quatre was not seen anywhere without Camouflage for weeks after the study incident when the usually fiery Persian hit a downward spiral of depression. Although his comrades weren't sure what had caused the depression the Winner head was convinced it was his cat's medical report. It had been the only thing destroyed in his study; all the other files littering his desk had remained intact.
"Ah, Kitten. I wish you would tell me what's wrong," Quatre murmured rubbing Camouflage head. "I hate feeling how depressed you've become. What in the colonies could have been in the report that upset you so?"
The Persian's tail flicked apathetically in response.
"Well, I'm not leaving you alone right now. You will just have to accompany me to WEI today."
That said, the little blond man picked up his pet and left the study.
----
Executive board meetings were boring. No, not just boring, but Boring with a capital 'B'. Harry would happily scratch his own ears off if it would stop the old windbag's droning. He really, really would. The only thing preventing his self-mutilation was the solid hand lying on his back. If he had learned one thing from this Hell on Earth it was this--
Quatre kicked arse.
His blond was like a smaller, sweeter, more deceptive version of Lucius Malfoy. It was amazing the 180 he could pull—one moment he was a socialite sweetheart and the next he was an iron fisted business tycoon who took didn't take shite from anyone. From charities to hostile takeovers - it was amazing.
Harry quietly admitted to himself that he wished he had half the stones of his owner. Then maybe everyone would stop walking all over him. Or, at least stopped walking all over him when he had been human. Regaining his humanity was looking more and more like a pipe dream however; his magic would not cooperate with him for anything.
Blunt manicured nails scratched at his neck and he couldn't prevent the purr that erupted. 'Damn but he's good at this.' Harry opened one brilliant yellow eye and glared indignantly up at the CEO who dared to smirk in return. Agreeing with the cattier part of his personality he kneaded his fore claws into his owner's thigh. He was immediately bopped between the ears then the scratching continued. Huffing, the Persian wriggled from under the hand and slipped out of Quatre's lap.
The thump of his landing was absorbed by the thick carpet and the old man's whining. A solid oak conference table ensured nobody noticed as Camo started slinking around the perimeter investigating the other humans present. Most of them smelled like old men; paper and ink, spirits and tobacco, and that dusty smell of approaching death. A few of them smelled younger however, none were as young as his Quatre. No surprise really considering Quatre was a nineteen year old CEO.
One though…one smelled just wrong. Nothing specific stood out but there was something almost acrid, ammonia-esque about it. Camouflage did not like whoever it was and silently weighed the pros and cons of leaving a fresh hairball behind. In the end Trowa's medicine and his immense dislike of the sensations involved changed his mind. Plus, Quatre would shave his fur if he pissed on Ammonia's shoes.
'Time to play little other,' Camo thought, malicious intent lacing the cooed words.
'Eight lives left Camo,' Harry acquiesced, backing down for Camo to come forward.
----
'Rat' was the first thought to cross Camo's mind as he slunk out from under the table and behind Ammonia. Rich deep red hair sleeked back with copious amounts of gel, harsh angular facial features-- all of them properly proportioned, dark blue eyes bordering on black watched everything around him with hawk-ish intensity. He was maybe thirty with the build of a man in his prime which was subtly enhanced by the well tailored suit he wore.
'Expensive. Armani,' Harry noted, Aunt Petunia's obsession with high class fashion having rubbed off somewhat. That was a frightening thought.
'I don't like him.'
'Yeah. Trace his steps and see what we can find. He probably has a closed office nearby to search,' Harry said.
With that the large Persian promptly slunk out of the room. This wasn't the first time Quatre had brought him to WEI so certain rooms had hi-tech, high security cat doors installed. As he wasn't fluent in muggle technology much less high-tech jargon all he knew was the doors were too small for anything other than a cat or miniature dog to enter and couldn't be opened without his special security collar. Plus, he had just enough magic to prevent anyone taking said collar.
Out the door and down the hall, Camo made sure to hug the left wall to avoid a second trodden tail. Heero was quite enough thank you very much. Although the air was clogged with various scents the taint of ammonia was plenty strong to follow. He glanced into large open cubicles where industrious, and not so industrious, workers sat filing, typing, or writing up reports. Mr. Left-Corner-With-A-Window was looking at an internet site with large; dancing red X's decorating the background.
'Those females are very flexible. Are they related to felines?' Camouflage asked.
'N-no—just—no…! Bad!'
Although amused at his other's reaction, the vehemence behind Harry's thoughts prompted Camo to act. Seeing as the human was quite distracted if the overwhelming scent of arousal was any indicator he easily slipped around the cubicle wall and under the desk. Wires sat heaped in a tangled mass under the desk and a devilish, toothy, predatory grin spread across the feline face. Lashing out with his paw he was a full cubicle away when the black screen finally registered on the distracted office worker. The accompanying shout of rage and despair sent a delicious shiver down Camo's spine who sauntered away while the other office workers swarmed their unfortunate comrade.
Although, if he was scenting correctly more than one 'concerned' office mate was radiating glee.
----
Women like cats.
A strange fact but proved true time and time again. They liked cats even more when they found out said feline belonged to someone important. And, since he was the CEO's pet it wasn't very hard to get a ride on the company elevator. Especially when he was busy twining around the ankles of a pretty young red head that smelled of three different cats – two Siamese, one male and one female, and one young female, possibly a mutt.
If that wasn't luck enough for him, the red head turned out to be one of the secretaries on the floor containing department heads and executive members of the company. She slipped behind her desk, kicked off the pointy female shoes –'Stilettos,' Harry murmured -- and reached for a hidden ice box hidden in the kiddy corner of the L-shaped desk.
Red heads were devious creatures, as proven by his mum, Mrs. Weasley, the Twins, and Ginny. And now Ms. Rebecca Atkinson joined that list by seducing a poor little lost kitty with a now open can of salmon to sit and listen to company gossip and personal woes. He tried to escape, to flee being the unfortunate recipient of a full blown gossip session from a companion deprived female but, the salmon was just too good. The scent wafted around him, caressing his sensitive nose and exploding with flavor in his mouth leaving his whiskers tingling in pleasure.
He was doomed.
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