FIC: Stray (1/?)
Jul. 23rd, 2010 02:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Stray
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Adult
Pairing: the Losers, Cougar/Jensen
A/N: Written for a kinkmeme prompt in which most everyone shifts at full moon into cats. And then I added in genderswitching at the moon for good measure. Um. Yeah, that's what I've got.
The brass gives them Jensen. Give it a month, they say, like men who’ve never had to pry one soldier off another by the scruff. See how it pans out, they say. Clay bites back what he wants to tell them.
Clay goes alone to the tarmac, though he doesn’t have many illusions about why Pooch asked to drive him to the airport or where Cougar and Roque disappeared to on the sly. He knows his men are trying to figure the kid out, same as him, but he also knows that if he doesn’t like the kid’s scent, he’s sending him back to base in a heartbeat. Maybe the brass doesn’t much care if Clay’s team kill this kid, Jensen, because he steps wrong, but Clay isn’t putting them through that unless--
Jensen steps out of the plane, his mouth already running. Clay doesn’t hear it, but the man beside Jensen (an escort?) looks a little pained.
Clay feels a headache coming on. He starts walking to eat up the ground between them. Better to get this over with. Just before he gets there, Jensen stops short and snaps out a salute. He’s slower turning throat, it costs him to do that, but he does it. And then he’s done, before Clay can really figure out what the hell to do with a gesture like that-- none of the other men had gone that far. It’s technically protocol, but it’s old school protocol, reserved for the real brass or used by the real ass-kissers.
Female cat, male body, Clay realizes. Like himself. Which explains why the brass sent Jensen his way. They’re hoping, like they hoped with Clay, that a female cat around tomcats would get killed at the first heat.
“At ease,” Clay says, and realizes: he is. The cat doesn’t object to Jensen like she objects to most men of age; she uncurls and stretches inside him just to illustrate her point.
“Colonel,” Jensen says. “You know there’s a sniper on that roof over there? I probably should’ve said that before saluting. But I figured he was probably one of your people. Not that it couldn‘t be a she. Except that I think that only happens in the Air Force? Way ahead of us on that gender thing, is what I‘m saying, I mean, it‘s not like a woman couldn‘t-- can you tell my sister is a women’s studies professor?”
The escort makes an abortive move, like he’s going to shake Jensen until some sense rattles out. Clay’s cat puts her back up; Clay doesn’t quite close his teeth around his growl. The escort stops reaching for Jensen’s arm.
The cat settles. Grudgingly. Mine, she tells Clay, then adds belatedly, ours.
Yeah, it figures it’d be something like that. Clay glances at Jensen, gauging him, and finds him smiling but tensed to be struck.
“That’ll be all,” Clay says, and checks the escort‘s tag. “You’re dismissed, Sergeant. I‘ve got him from here.”
The way Jensen looks at him, spooked and grateful, makes the cat rumble her pleasure. If it was moon, she’d probably be all up in Jensen’s shit, trying to clean his fur, gnawing on his ear. Clay’s usually the one mortified after moon, spitting out mouthfuls of fur.
“Corporal,” Clay says, and makes an ‘after you’ gesture.
****
Pooch doesn’t try to kill Jensen. Roque doesn’t either. It’s no small thing; the four of them aren’t easy to live with on their own merits, and the cats… well, Clay’s cat refers to Roque as “hissy cat” for a reason. The last tech that the brass sent out, Clay sent back alive but with teeth marks on his throat. Jensen’s scent is inoffensive (which the kid would probably not find complimentary) and mild enough not to set any of them off.
Cougar is the one Clay’s most worried about, if one can say they’re worried about someone with a wider vicious streak than their own. Of all his (her) men, Clay would call Cougar the most likely to shift one day and just not come back. His connection to the world, the human world, is as tenuous as his rifle. Clay’s cat has no sense of Cougar being a grown-ass man who’s more than capable of protecting himself.
Cougar sniffs Jensen. Jensen sniffs Cougar. They look at each other for just long enough that Clay’s ready to grab Cougar by the scruff, dignity be damned, when Jensen says like they just had an entire conversation, “Macs are superior products.”
Cougar nods.
“And I prefer Picard.”
Cougar nods.
With a more belligerent edge: “My cat’s a girl.”
Cougar shrugs.
Jensen blinks.
More gently than Clay would’ve thought Cougar had in him, Cougar reaches out and takes Jensen’s bag. He walks away, towards the room where Cougar crashes with Clay. It’s news to Clay.
Yes, his cat says. Little cat. It’s the way she sounds when she’s digging her claws in.
“Um.” Jensen looks at Clay. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Clay says. And it is.
***
Two days into Jensen’s first mission, Pooch pulls Clay aside.
“Problem with transportation?” Clay asks mildly, though he knows it isn’t anything like that. He can smell it on Pooch, a scent that belongs with ‘Jolene’ and ‘home’ and ‘pack’.
“You know,” Pooch says, “I’m not a narc.”
Clay sets the PDA down. Five minutes with the new kid and it’s running faster than ever before, with hijacked information from more agencies than Clay wants to think too hard about. “I know that.”
Relaxing by a fraction, Pooch nods and stands down. “There’s no way that kid’s 22. 20, maybe. Maybe.”
Inexperienced. Maybe not of age. Potential liability. Clay knows Pooch likes Jensen already, judging by their long argument over two state lines about Captain Sisto versus Captain Picard, and which Doctor was the best, and Clay doesn’t even really get what any of that means. But Pooch’s first loyalty is to the unit.
Clay glances across the safe house. Cougar and Jensen (already shaping into one word in his head, Cougar-and-Jensen) and Roque are playing a hand of what looks like Go Fish. Cougs looks more present than he’s been in a while; his elbow bumps Jensen's, and he doesn't react like he's been scalded.
“If that’s what his ID says, that’s what it is.” Clay meets Pooch’s eyes. “Understood?”
Relief coaxes Pooch’s shoulders down from his ears. “Yes sir.”
“All right.” Clay picks the PDA back up. “Might as well go deal in.”
****
First moon comes and goes.
Jensen’s cat is gawky-thin, the color of ash, unremarkable. She trips on her paws and has the attention span of a squirrel, her satellite dish ears swiveling at every noise. Cougar trails her like a ghost, tilting his head as she chatters and mrrps and yowls.
It’s another warning he doesn’t hear until later. Too late.
Author:
nilchanceRating: Adult
Pairing: the Losers, Cougar/Jensen
A/N: Written for a kinkmeme prompt in which most everyone shifts at full moon into cats. And then I added in genderswitching at the moon for good measure. Um. Yeah, that's what I've got.
The brass gives them Jensen. Give it a month, they say, like men who’ve never had to pry one soldier off another by the scruff. See how it pans out, they say. Clay bites back what he wants to tell them.
Clay goes alone to the tarmac, though he doesn’t have many illusions about why Pooch asked to drive him to the airport or where Cougar and Roque disappeared to on the sly. He knows his men are trying to figure the kid out, same as him, but he also knows that if he doesn’t like the kid’s scent, he’s sending him back to base in a heartbeat. Maybe the brass doesn’t much care if Clay’s team kill this kid, Jensen, because he steps wrong, but Clay isn’t putting them through that unless--
Jensen steps out of the plane, his mouth already running. Clay doesn’t hear it, but the man beside Jensen (an escort?) looks a little pained.
Clay feels a headache coming on. He starts walking to eat up the ground between them. Better to get this over with. Just before he gets there, Jensen stops short and snaps out a salute. He’s slower turning throat, it costs him to do that, but he does it. And then he’s done, before Clay can really figure out what the hell to do with a gesture like that-- none of the other men had gone that far. It’s technically protocol, but it’s old school protocol, reserved for the real brass or used by the real ass-kissers.
Female cat, male body, Clay realizes. Like himself. Which explains why the brass sent Jensen his way. They’re hoping, like they hoped with Clay, that a female cat around tomcats would get killed at the first heat.
“At ease,” Clay says, and realizes: he is. The cat doesn’t object to Jensen like she objects to most men of age; she uncurls and stretches inside him just to illustrate her point.
“Colonel,” Jensen says. “You know there’s a sniper on that roof over there? I probably should’ve said that before saluting. But I figured he was probably one of your people. Not that it couldn‘t be a she. Except that I think that only happens in the Air Force? Way ahead of us on that gender thing, is what I‘m saying, I mean, it‘s not like a woman couldn‘t-- can you tell my sister is a women’s studies professor?”
The escort makes an abortive move, like he’s going to shake Jensen until some sense rattles out. Clay’s cat puts her back up; Clay doesn’t quite close his teeth around his growl. The escort stops reaching for Jensen’s arm.
The cat settles. Grudgingly. Mine, she tells Clay, then adds belatedly, ours.
Yeah, it figures it’d be something like that. Clay glances at Jensen, gauging him, and finds him smiling but tensed to be struck.
“That’ll be all,” Clay says, and checks the escort‘s tag. “You’re dismissed, Sergeant. I‘ve got him from here.”
The way Jensen looks at him, spooked and grateful, makes the cat rumble her pleasure. If it was moon, she’d probably be all up in Jensen’s shit, trying to clean his fur, gnawing on his ear. Clay’s usually the one mortified after moon, spitting out mouthfuls of fur.
“Corporal,” Clay says, and makes an ‘after you’ gesture.
****
Pooch doesn’t try to kill Jensen. Roque doesn’t either. It’s no small thing; the four of them aren’t easy to live with on their own merits, and the cats… well, Clay’s cat refers to Roque as “hissy cat” for a reason. The last tech that the brass sent out, Clay sent back alive but with teeth marks on his throat. Jensen’s scent is inoffensive (which the kid would probably not find complimentary) and mild enough not to set any of them off.
Cougar is the one Clay’s most worried about, if one can say they’re worried about someone with a wider vicious streak than their own. Of all his (her) men, Clay would call Cougar the most likely to shift one day and just not come back. His connection to the world, the human world, is as tenuous as his rifle. Clay’s cat has no sense of Cougar being a grown-ass man who’s more than capable of protecting himself.
Cougar sniffs Jensen. Jensen sniffs Cougar. They look at each other for just long enough that Clay’s ready to grab Cougar by the scruff, dignity be damned, when Jensen says like they just had an entire conversation, “Macs are superior products.”
Cougar nods.
“And I prefer Picard.”
Cougar nods.
With a more belligerent edge: “My cat’s a girl.”
Cougar shrugs.
Jensen blinks.
More gently than Clay would’ve thought Cougar had in him, Cougar reaches out and takes Jensen’s bag. He walks away, towards the room where Cougar crashes with Clay. It’s news to Clay.
Yes, his cat says. Little cat. It’s the way she sounds when she’s digging her claws in.
“Um.” Jensen looks at Clay. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Clay says. And it is.
***
Two days into Jensen’s first mission, Pooch pulls Clay aside.
“Problem with transportation?” Clay asks mildly, though he knows it isn’t anything like that. He can smell it on Pooch, a scent that belongs with ‘Jolene’ and ‘home’ and ‘pack’.
“You know,” Pooch says, “I’m not a narc.”
Clay sets the PDA down. Five minutes with the new kid and it’s running faster than ever before, with hijacked information from more agencies than Clay wants to think too hard about. “I know that.”
Relaxing by a fraction, Pooch nods and stands down. “There’s no way that kid’s 22. 20, maybe. Maybe.”
Inexperienced. Maybe not of age. Potential liability. Clay knows Pooch likes Jensen already, judging by their long argument over two state lines about Captain Sisto versus Captain Picard, and which Doctor was the best, and Clay doesn’t even really get what any of that means. But Pooch’s first loyalty is to the unit.
Clay glances across the safe house. Cougar and Jensen (already shaping into one word in his head, Cougar-and-Jensen) and Roque are playing a hand of what looks like Go Fish. Cougs looks more present than he’s been in a while; his elbow bumps Jensen's, and he doesn't react like he's been scalded.
“If that’s what his ID says, that’s what it is.” Clay meets Pooch’s eyes. “Understood?”
Relief coaxes Pooch’s shoulders down from his ears. “Yes sir.”
“All right.” Clay picks the PDA back up. “Might as well go deal in.”
****
First moon comes and goes.
Jensen’s cat is gawky-thin, the color of ash, unremarkable. She trips on her paws and has the attention span of a squirrel, her satellite dish ears swiveling at every noise. Cougar trails her like a ghost, tilting his head as she chatters and mrrps and yowls.
It’s another warning he doesn’t hear until later. Too late.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:47 pm (UTC)I'm loving that Jensen and Cougar are instantly like that. And I'm especially loving that it's a Daddy-Clay-Mama-Cat sort of thing.
I can't to see what happens with it.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:49 pm (UTC)*waits happily for next installment*
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:54 pm (UTC)This is FASCINATING. I can't help wondering about the implications of something like this, how (whether?) the structure of the team would be different, the way teamwork and responses in the field would be affected. Yay, thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 07:53 pm (UTC)More please??
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 11:09 pm (UTC)And I tell myself that staring at the computer screen and willing another installment to appear doesn't work, but I'm so tempted to try. Because seriously--
The escort makes an abortive move, like he’s going to shake Jensen until some sense rattles out. Clay’s cat puts her back up; Clay doesn’t quite close his teeth around his growl. The escort stops reaching for Jensen’s arm.
The cat settles. Grudgingly. Mine, she tells Clay, then adds belatedly, ours.
Yeah, it figures it’d be something like that.
Happy dolphin noises over here. Your worldbuilding kicks ass.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 07:18 pm (UTC)And possessive!Mama-Clay-Cat made me squeal.
I can't wait for more!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 10:53 pm (UTC)(I'm sure you're awesome in many, many ways, but this is how I know it.)
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 11:50 pm (UTC)I loved your description of Cougar, of how his hold on humanity is so tenuous, the bond between him and his cat so strong.
Also, proves that you actually have cats, as the mrrp is one of those cat sounds that anyone who has a cat will recognize, while anyone who doesn't will go, "Mrrp? WTF?" and it lends a credence to your narrative that is hard to come by with this type of piece.
Hope there is more to come!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 04:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 10:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 05:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-04 08:44 pm (UTC)B) Cats. Not to be trusted. Except when you are writing about them. (In other words, OMG <3!!1!)
C) You have a typo here: Captain Sisto versus Captain Picard. It's Sisko. (And Jensen is so right on this one.)
In conclusion: Please write more?
no subject
Date: 2010-08-14 06:13 am (UTC)Story
Date: 2010-11-06 07:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-12 08:18 am (UTC)