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Here was the plan: Scott would attend the Tracy Industries meeting which he really couldn’t avoid yet again – because he was running out of excuses and there were only so many times that John would be willing to cover for him. It was meant to be a quick one – an hour at the absolute maximum – leaving him with an entirely free weekend starting at eleven-am on Friday morning. ‘Entirely free’ was probably generous terminology given he had already accepted his fate of being dragged around New York City by an overexcited youngest brother, but hey.
Anyway. That was the plan – the use of past tense being the notable factor. In reality, what actually happened was the following:
The meeting was the most excruciatingly boring experience Scott had ever suffered through. It was also entirely pointless given all he did was sign paperwork and nod at the appropriate moments, all of which could be achieved over a virtual conference call. He couldn’t even text John to complain under the table because the CEO was supposed pay attention and oh yeah, that was him. After forty minutes of hell, he was finally free and fled into the nearest elevator, already loosening his tie before the doors had even finished closing.
Alan was not where he was supposed to be. The foyer was conspicuously empty. Scott stared at a potted fern as if his brother had somehow shrunk and was now hiding behind the plant, but it was, of course, completely innocent.
Why was he surprised? Alan only listened to about half his orders on rescues, let alone on a weekend trip to New York of all places. It was somewhat inevitable that the kid was going to run off.
“For fuck’s sake,” Scott muttered, jolting as he remembered where he was. He cast a surreptitious look around the foyer but there were no obviously hidden reporters, so he was probably safe from being quoted and ripped apart in the tabloids tomorrow.
There was no immediate sign of Alan on the sidewalk outside either. New York was not the sort of place where you could just stop and stand still, so he let the crowds sweep him up while he checked for messages.
His phone had been on silent for the entire meeting – although John could override this if anything major regarding IR happened – but now he fished it out of his pocket and turned the notifications back on. There were a few news alerts, but he dismissed those. And there. Multiple text messages timed only about ten minutes earlier. On the plus side, that meant Alan couldn’t have gone far. On the downside, any message which began with don’t be angry never ended well and automatically made his heart sink.
A: I am literally losing my mind
A: This is so boring
A: I’m going for a walk so don’t freak out if your meeting finishes early and I’m not there
A: Don’t be angry but I’ve found a cat
A: I think it’s a stray
A: It’s all alone and it’s super skinny
A: She doesn’t have a collar
A: Heyyy Scottyyy you love me right?
A: Hypothetically if I brought a stray cat home would you be mad?
A: You can name her if you want
A: But nothing dumb
A: You can’t name her after anyone from Top Gun
S: Send me your location.
A: Ok one second.
S: ARE YOU IN A RANDOM ALLEYWAY?
S: ALAN
S: DO YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF SELF-PRESERVATION?!
A: The cat was crying! I had to find her!
S: You are the leading contributor to my stress levels
A: Do you know what helps with stress?
A: Cats!!
S: …why are you like this?
A: Idk blame whoever raised me
A: Haha oh wait that was you
The alley was cold and damp and unnecessarily creepy to the point where Scott swore he got goosebumps as soon as he stepped foot in it. There were a series of overflowing garbage cans stacked along one side and the bags were writhing with rats. A collection of offensive graffiti had bled in the rain so that the colours blended together to form a noxious green. The entire place stunk of cigarette smoke. There were ashes in the gutter. It practically had a glowing neon sign pronouncing it as somewhere to visit only if you wanted to get abducted and he immediately wanted to grab Alan by the hood of that ridiculous nerdy Marvel jacket and haul him back to the relative safety of sunlit streets.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, trying to persuade his heartrate to calm down once he had eyes on his little brother. Ironically enough, he probably struck more of a target himself than Alan, given he was in an obviously expensive suit. “Leaving the foyer? Annoying, but acceptable. But walking into this place? Hell no. What happened to your survival instincts? Did you leave them in Space?”
“Yes,” Alan deadpanned. He staggered upright, trying not to drop the bundle of skin and bones cradled against his chest. The cat was young and a mix of parts – grey tabby with splodges of white fur and ivy green eyes. Her ears and eyes seemed too big for her face and her tail was too long. She was snuggled beneath Alan’s chin and looked impossibly small and vulnerable, soaking up the first scraps of kindness that had been shown to her in a long time. Her paws were damp from the slimy concrete, staining Alan’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice, too busy smoothing her fur.
Scott glimpsed that wonder and pure adoration in his brother’s eyes and immediately felt his resolve not only break but shatter. He held out a hand and let the cat sniff his fingers before deciding she trusted him enough to let him tickle her chin.
“We’ve got to keep her,” Alan pleaded, with wide, wide eyes to match the cat.
Scott repressed a smile as the cat tipped her head into his palm. “We should take her to a shelter, you know that.”
“She needs a loving family.”
He sighed. “But she’s sort of… scrawny and sad.”
“So is John,” Alan shot back, “But we keep him around.”
Don’t laugh. Do not laugh.
Scott couldn’t help himself.
Aw, dammit. I’ve lost.
“She’ll be your responsibility. You have to clean up after her and train her not to go near the pool or the hangars. Don’t let her anywhere near Gordon’s aquariums. Her vet bills and food will come out of your allowance.”
“Uh huh,” Alan nodded emphatically. “I’m cool with that.”
Scott ran a hand down the cat’s spine and winced at the feel of every bone and protruding ribs. Something warm and impossibly fond spread out from his chest as the little animal began to purr, a full-body rumble which made her whiskers quiver.
Alan’s smile could have rivalled the sun. “So… can we keep her?”
Scott silently cursed his lack of resolve. He was pretty sure Alan could have asked him for the literal moon and he’d have found a way to gift it to the kid.
He gave Alan a gentle shove towards the main street. “Come on then. We’d better find a pet store.”
S: Hey Johnny
J: What have you done?
J: Actually, I don’t want to know.
J: Just tell me if I need to bail you out or erase any federal documents
S: Why do you always assume the worst-case scenario?
J: Because it’s you.
S: Thanks
J: I repeat, what have you done?
S: What would you say if Alan and I brought home a cat?
J: Scott.
J: Tell me you haven’t bought him a cat.
S: I have not bought Alan a cat.
S: I simply let him keep the cat he found
J: Shelters exist.
S: But it’s scrawny and sad
S: It reminded me of you
J: I strongly dislike you sometimes
J: So are you asking for permission or are you informing me that we now have a cat?
S: The second option
J: At least Virgil will be happy
J: Have you named it yet?
S: Her name is Goose
S: Alan and I compromised – it’s both a Top Gun and a Marvel reference.
J: Why are you like this?
J: Do you want me to register Goose with the closest vets?
S: Have I mentioned lately that you’re my favourite brother?
J: I’m going to block you.
S: That’s fair.