Dan found the pitiful bundle of fur crouched next to a puddle down the street from his brownstone, the hair on it’s back raised, it’s tiny body quaking. The thing was so little, even for a kitten, and he knew it couldn’t possibly survive out here by itself. Daniel Dreiberg was an inherently kind man, and when he saw the quivering mass of fluff he automatically knew with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he would have to take the poor thing home.
It put up resistance at first, swatting at him with miniscule paws and pathetic excuses for hisses, but it seemed adverse to actually hurting him; it was the oddest thing, but he got the feeling that it didn’t want to really scratch him, just scare him away. He managed to scoop the kitten up finally, cradling it in an arm tightly and petting its head in an effort to subdue its struggles. The physical contact seemed to send it into a fit, dispelling Dan’s naïve concept, and he goaded himself immediately for the foolish notion.
“Calm down buddy, I’m here to help.” He said soothingly, wincing as a tiny claw caught on the pad of his thumb. “Shit.” He mumbled, sucking on the abused digit and clutching the kitten tightly to his chest.
As he plodded home, a few scratches worse for the wear, he couldn’t help but feel as if he knew the damn thing from somewhere. Or, more accurately, that it reminded him of someone. Its eyes were large and brown, somehow almost zombie-like in their relentless stare, glassy but unnervingly intelligent, and the red-orange fur that covered its body was coarse and matted in places, decidedly unruly. Filament whiskers poked off its face unevenly, the bases surrounded by pin-prick dots of dark fur that almost looked like… Well, like freckles. It almost seemed ugly, not terribly so, just possessing something a bit… Unsettling about its appearance. As he opened his door, still holding his captive close to his side to prevent his escape, (he had come to the conclusion that the little scamp was a male,) he mused that this was the first time he’d ever seen a kitten that was anything but adorable. Somehow, this only seemed to endear the pitiful stray to him.
“C’mon, we’ll get you some food.” He murmured, extracting the waif’s paws from his sweater-vest and closing the door behind him with a well placed kick. The thing only stared up at him with what seemed to be borderline disdain, loosing a less than terrifying hiss. Daniel only smiled down at him, already feeling an odd tenderness for the kitten.
Something about the little rag-a-muffin just made him want to take care of it, and that was just what he intended to do.
Rorschach didn’t know how he got into this predicament in the first place. Well, predicament in the plural form really; not only were Daniel’s arms wrapped tightly around him but, more pressingly, he was a kitten. A fluffy, tiny, weak kitten.
The last thing he remembered he had been investigating one of Moloch’s drug rings; extensive circles of corruption. He had stumbled in on what was purportedly the main base of this expanse of debauchery, a ramshackle warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He had entered in the building with his typical stealth, working his way past a few guards, using violence when necessary. Somehow, he had gotten lucky, and the tip seemed to pan out; eventually he stumbled upon Moloch and a few of his cronies, seemingly inspecting a shipment. With a animalistic growl he had lunged at them, and he remembered tripping, being hit with a crowbar, some kind of liquid poured on him. The next thing he knew he was in an alley that looked oddly familiar, covered in fur, and feeling disturbingly tiny.
He kept trying to tell Daniel as he carried him inside, wriggling fiercely in an attempt to loosen the giant’s grip, but every word came out a pathetic mewl or an unsatisfactory hiss. He swatted plaintively at the tie that swung next to him, but Daniel seemed to mistake this as a form of play, chuckling as they entered the kitchen.
“Hey little buddy, that’s not a toy.” Daniel laughed, smiling warmly. Rorschach immediately felt the impulse to claw the man’s face for the condescension, meowing in his most menacing voice which, apparently, was less than terrifying. Dan still refused to release him, instead heading to the refrigerator.
“Now let’s see… What do cat’s like?” He mumbled to himself, bending to peer at the practically barren shelves; life as a bachelor didn’t exactly necessitate a well-stocked fridge. Rorschach could feel his stomach growling, immediately realizing that it must have been at least two days since his last meal. Meanwhile, Daniel continued talking to himself indecisively, fingers kneading small reassuring circles into Rorschach’s sides in response to each attempt at escape; to put it lightly, this only served to enrage the small ginger kitten.
“Hm… Do cat’s like chicken noodle soup? Well, probably the chicken part but I don’t think the noodles…” Dan trailed off, squinting a bit and pushing containers and packages aside. Rorschach continued to squirm, freezing as he saw the half-empty can of beans on the second shelf. His stomach rumbled again, asserting his hunger.
With one final effort he managed to free himself, eyes locked on his goal; a twist of his body, a pump of his legs and he was free, propelled into the refrigerator’s open door. One thing he had never paused to notice about cats were their frighteningly developed agility, and as he landed with a skitter amidst the foodstuffs he silently thanked God for it.
Daniel made a grab for the leaping kitten, stepping forward in confusion. “Hey!” But the tiny thing only dodged, glaring up at him moodily as it backed away. Dan’s hands froze; he could swear he knew that posture from somewhere. But who…
The train of thought was lost as the kitten stood on its hind legs, front paws bracing its body on the side of a can of beans that Rorschach had left half eaten a few nights back. Carefully it poked its head over the side, and it seemed to lap at the beans. Daniel shook his head incredulously, hands on his hips. He was fairly certain that cats typically didn’t enjoy baked beans. Then again, this cat seemed anything but typical.
“Um, ok… I guess you can have those. Rorschach will just have to wait until I go to the store.” He reached out tentatively, stroking the small fragile body as it ate; amazingly enough, it allowed this, apparently too consumed with the task at hand. Daniel smiled, thinking he actually heard a purr. “Alright, let’s finish up and then it’s off to bed.” The kitten seemed to tense at the statement, looking up with a muzzle soaked in bean-juice.
As annoying as it was to find himself once again in Daniel’s arms, Rorschach tolerated it for the simple fact that his hunger had been sated. Daniel cleaned his face, fending off the resulting attack of claws, and scooped him up with a smile. “Time for bed.” He stated, walking happily towards the staircase. Rorschach didn’t know why, but he didn’t try to escape this time, just settled into the arms reluctantly. He chalked it up to a combination of whatever it was Moloch had done to him and his inevitable exhaustion, refusing to consider the fact that he was actually enjoying it.
When they got to Dan’s bedroom Daniel placed him on the large bed that occupied it, giving him a careful stroke on the head as if afraid too much force might snap his admittedly tiny neck. Rorschach looked at him levelly, realizing that he was expected to sleep in here. With Daniel. Before the thought had enough time to sink in, Daniel began to undress; with an innate horror Rorschach turned around, pawing his way carefully up to Dan’s pillow, refusing to look behind him. Daniel didn’t realize that it was him and he felt horrible, like he was intruding, breaching his partner’s trust.
The rustle of fabric behind him seemed to stop, and soon there was a creak as something settled on the mattress next to him. He looked over reluctantly to find Daniel slipping beneath the covers with a smile.
“We’ll uh, we’ll get you checked out at the vet tomorrow, OK? I guess I should also check to make sure that nobody lost you.” Dan paused and frowned, reaching out to pet Rorschach who mewled weakly. “Although, to be frank, you don’t look like a housecat.” With that he lay his head down, clicking off the bedside lamp. “G’night buddy.”
Rorschach sat there in the dark for a moment, feeling oddly indignant at the comment. Well, what was he supposed to do now? Grudgingly, he lay down, too tired to attempt some daring escape. Besides, there wasn’t much he could do in this body; he would have to come up with some way to communicate his identity to Daniel, some way to get his partner’s help. Until then he might as well take the opportunity to get some rest. He closed his eyes, wrapping his tail snugly to his body, and it wasn’t long before his small sides rose and fell slowly, encumbered by the sleep that draped over him.
It was sometime during the night that a large arm reached over, pulling his small frame close; he was half-asleep and too tired to care, instead snuggling against the bigger body, content.
Daniel slept wonderfully that night, somehow managing to not roll over and subsequently crush his new charity case. He expected it to bolt when he reached over, half drunk with sleep, but instead the kitten pressed into his touch. They cuddled like that the rest of the night, Daniel happy for the companionship of anyone, even a small animal that seemed suspiciously familiar.
He woke slowly at first, the warm tickle of sunlight dancing over his closed eyes. He mumbled a bit, drawing the body next to him closer, burying his face in the long skinny neck. It took a minute for it to dawn on him that he had no idea who the hell it was that leaned back into his touch, snaking arms around his sides. Slowly, uncertainly, he opened his eyes.
The scream that Daniel Dreiberg loosed when he found a naked Rorschach in his arms was audible for a five mile radius.