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He stood, one hand clamped tight over his mouth, arm wrapped around his waist, eyes glittering with barely contained mirth, staring at the image before him. Perhaps, maybe, possibly, he should do something about this but…. But the image was just so…. Surely he could be forgiven just this once. Surely the other man could appreciate the situation he’d been put in and would therefore have mercy on his poor soul. He’d even done the honorable thing and turned away curious stable hands so that he wouldn’t be quite so embarrassed. Truly, he deserved some leniency.
By the glare on Estinien’s face as he was woken up by Aymeric’s near hysterical laughter, he didn’t think he was going to get it.
Half a bell ago, a soldier had approached Aymeric in his office, fidgeting nervously. The cause, when he heard it, left him confused and somewhat concerned.
“It isn’t uncommon to find Estinien asleep in the stables,”
“No, Ser, I know. It’s just that…. The stable hands are afraid to wake him you see and… well…”
Sighing, Aymeric rose from his desk, unable to help a little smirk of amusement. Estinien’s reputation of being rather gruff when awoken preceded him it seemed.
“The south stables, you said?”
“Yes, Ser,” the soldier answered, sagging in relief.
Aymeric waved a hand to dismiss him as he gathered his cloak and left his office, telling Lucia he’d be back once he collected the dragoon. And now, here he stood, leaning against the stable wall for support as four sets of eyes glared at him from inside the stall. The black chocobo, Aymeric’s own bird on the rare instances he could take her out, simply huffed and reached over to preen the fluffy chick sitting in Estinien’s lap. Said chick had a glare to rival the dragoon’s, cheeping in anger as Aymeric continued to laugh and startled by its mother’s beak. The barn cat, a kitten only a few months old with dappled fur and flicking tail, just looked startled, curled as it was on Estinien’s chest, unsure if it wanted to run or keep its place.
And the dragoon himself… well. Aymeric had been on the receiving end of the glare more often than he could count so it honestly did very little to phase him. With a huff, Estinien tried to gently extract himself from the pile. The kitten, from the wince on the man’s face, dug its claws in in protest as the same time the chick fluffed its feathers and cheeped again, turning that glare onto the dragoon. Ella, dear sweet bird that she was, simply huffed and butted her head against Estinien’s, beak nibbling gently at his hair. And that, honestly, just set Aymeric off again, sliding down to the floor and fairly wheezing by now. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there giggling like a loon but it was long enough that his cheeks and throat ached from so long of a fit. He only managed to calm when something small and warm and fluffy was dumped in his lap, tiny claws digging into his cloak with a squeaking mew of protest.
He had the little thing cuddled up to his face in a second, still giggling as he looked the tiny thing over.
“Hello, precious,” he cooed. “Did you have a wonderful little nap with Estinien?”
The man in question growled from somewhere beside him as the kitten blinked wide gold eyes down at him. A few moments of cooing and a tiny paw reached out to lightly bat at his bangs. This, of course, set off another round of it, much to Estinien’s begrudging disgust.
“Are you quite done, my lord?” He growled.
His arms were crossed over his chest, weight mostly on one leg while the other foot seemed to want to tap to show his displeasure. The downturned mouth and deeply furrowed brow, however, spoke the volumes for him. Aymeric cradled his little bundle carefully, giving it a gentle nuzzle as he climbed to his feet. Ignoring his friend’s question, he instead peered around him to smile at his bird and her grumpy chick.
“Was Estinien cold, my dearest, and needed a feather blanket to keep warm?”
Ella warked in answer, looking quite proud of herself. The chick huffed, displeased about being displaced, echoing the huff from Estinien at the indirect teasing. Aymeric couldn’t withhold another chuckle as he stepped forward and gently bumped his shoulder against the dragoon’s in silent apology, smile still spread wide over his face.
“Come now, friend, if it were I in your place, you’d be as amused as I am,”
Estinien’s lip curled just a little, and this close he could spy the blush high on the man’s cheeks.
“It’s expected of you,” he grumbled, stepping around the Lord Commander to leave the stables.
Furry companion still clinging to his coat and butting its tiny head against his chin, Aymeric followed with a little bounce in his step.
“Then you should be full glad I was fetched before half of Ishgard came to see the wonder of the sleeping dragoon,”
Long legs widened their stride as they walked up the winding streets back to the Congregation, Aymeric chuckling most of the way. He did try to contain the giggles before they stepped inside, knowing that Estinien would appreciate the fit for so long before boxing him about the ears.
“You realize Lucia won’t let you keep that,” Estinien said, choosing to ignore the lingering giggles as he glanced down at the snuggling kitten.
“Keep what?”
As if summoned, Lucia stood before them, papers in hand as she stood by the war table. Glancing between the two, she spotted the object in question and heaved a sigh as she set the papers down.
“Sir. We’ve had this discussion about sneaking cats in here.”
“Ah. So we did. But I believe the conversation was that I shouldn’t sneak in cats and as you can clearly see, this little one is in plain view. And is rather sweet.”
Lucia opened her mouth to argue. As she went to speak, those wide gold eyes turned to her, the kitten tilting its head upside down with its front paws still braced on Aymeric’s chest. It let out a little rumbling murp, furiously licking Aymeric’s forehead when the man nuzzled its fluffy chest. She and Estinien shared a long suffering look as the Lord Commander snuggled the tiny thing.
“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when it spills ink all over your desk.”
A year later and Pouncival was relied upon to get Aymeric’s attention when he was buried too far into his paperwork. He patrolled the halls of the Congregation, tail flicked high as knights nodded to Ser Pounce-a-lot. But despite his lofty position of errand cat and paper weight, his favorite spot to nap would always be on Estinien’s chest. Much to Aymeric's continued amusement.