InsaneJournal

Current mood:	i regret nothing
Entry tags:	! 2008 twelve characters challenge, author: laylah, fandom: baccano!, pairing: dune/ladd

"Puss in Suits," Baccano!
Title: Puss in Suits
Author: Laylah
Fandom: Baccano!
Pairing: Ladd/Dune
Rating: not entirely worksafe for glossed violence and heavily implied kitty porn. whut.
Prompt: Ladd and Dune as the main characters in a fairy tale.


Puss in Suits

Once upon a time there was a boy who had no fortune. He was not often troubled by this, for though he had no parents he did have an uncle, who was a powerful man and wicked enough, though perhaps not so wicked as the boy himself. His uncle put the boy to work slaying monsters -- and sometimes slaying other things as well -- and they lived happily for quite some time.

Then one day there were no monsters left in his uncle's territory. "Tell me, uncle," said the boy, "what can I kill today? What do you have for me?"

"Nothing," his uncle said. "There are no monsters left on our turf, Ladd," for Ladd was the name he called the boy. "You've slain them all."

"Ah," Ladd said, and he laughed, because surely that meant he was the most monstrous of all. "Something else, then. Find me someone else to kill."

"I have no jobs for you, Ladd," his uncle said angrily. "Begone with you."

"Tch," said Ladd, and perhaps on another day he might have killed even his own uncle, for he was now the most monstrous thing in all the Russo territory himself. But on this day he only said, "You're no fun at all," and left his uncle to count his stolen gold like a squat, cantankerous dragon.

He would seek a quest on his own, Ladd decided, and he set out across the city in search of one.

The trouble with most quests, truly, was that they didn't involve enough monsters. Here was a girl who wanted to flee the tower where she was imprisoned, but why bother when there was no giant guarding her? There was a girl sleeping like death and in need of a prince's kiss, but what fun was a girl who was already dead when you got to her?

"I'm bored," Ladd complained, as he stopped at the mouth of an alleyway. A red cat looked up from grooming his paws on the lid of a trash can, and flicked one ear. Ladd, who had always liked an audience, went on, "Kitty, why isn't there anything fun left to do in this town?"

The cat yawned, as cats do when they're amused, showing all his white, pointed teeth. "I really don't know," he said. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Well," said Ladd, "isn't this interesting?" It wasn't every day one met a cat that could -- or would -- talk. He stretched out one big hand, and the cat sniffed at his fingers. "I like to kill."

"Mmmnao," the cat said, and rubbed his cheek against Ladd's hand. "I can smell the gun oil on you." His tail twitched, rusty red, coiling up into a question mark. "What sort of things do you like to kill? Quiet little things, like mice? Scrappy, hungry ones, like rats? Raucous pushy ones, like jackdaws?"

Ladd smiled, because clearly this cat was a killer as well, and knew what sort of questions to ask. "I'll kill just about anyone," he said, and his fingers pushed a bit against the cat's throat, but the cat purred, and Ladd didn't push harder. "I like to kill guys who think they're dangerous. Most of all I like to kill guys who think nothing can hurt them."

"I see," said the cat, his eyes slitted with delight as Ladd scratched under his chin. "If you'll make a deal with me, I'll find you some guys who will be fun to kill. How dos that sound?"

"Not bad," Lad admitted, "depending on what you want."

The cat flicked his tail. "I want some clothes to wear as a disguise, so I can lead you to the monsters' lair, and I want you to feed me, for my trouble."

"Oh?" Ladd asked. "You're a demanding kitty. What do you eat, then?"

"Freshly killed meat," the cat said. Then, because there are two things cats love more than all else, and they are wickedness and pleasure, he licked Ladd's fingertips and added, "And cream, when I can get it."

Ladd was fast coming to believe that the cat was in fact a kind of monster, but then so was he. "You have yourself a deal," he said. "If you can find me someone interesting to kill, I'll give you fresh meat and plenty of cream."

He gave the cat a fine white suit to wear, for what would look better with the cat's rust-colored fur and copper-colored eyes? For his part, when the cat stood up to put on the suit and walk about like a man, he seemed also to grow, until the tips of his velvety ears came up to Ladd's chin if he stood tall on his hind paws. He looked quite dashing in the suit, if one could overlook the saucy lash of his tail.

Thus attired the cat showed Ladd the way down into parts of the city that Ladd had never seen, places where his uncle's influence didn't reach. Here there were still monsters, oh yes. Plenty of them. Ladd's palms itched to reach for them, to choke the life out of them, but the cat said, "Not yet. Let us find the ogre king."

"King, eh?" Ladd smiled. "I bet he thinks nobody can hurt him at all."

"He is very dangerous," the cat purred, and flexed his paws so his claws stood out, just for a moment.

At the speakeasy of the ogre king, the cat scratched at the door, standing in the shadows as he waited for the doorkeeper. When the shutter slid back and an ogre peered out at them, the cat's tail lashed behind him impatiently. "Let us in," he said to the doorkeeper. "It's Dune. You know me. I've brought a friend, and we're thirsty."

"Dune?" the ogre said, for his memory was poor and his eyesight worse, but surely this could not be right. "Were you always so --"

"Let us in," the cat insisted. "Don't keep the good stuff all to yourselves. We can pay."

The latch rattled and the door swung open. "Go on, then," said the ogre doorkeeper, "but don't make any trouble, now."

"Never," lied the cat -- there has never been a cat who doesn't make trouble -- and he and Ladd made their way inside.

It was as you might expect, to hear tell of an ogres' speakeasy -- the crowd was noisy, raucous as jackdaws indeed, the lot of them. They drank and fought and swore, and their suits fit poorly, for not a tailor alive can make an ogre look like other than he is. Ladd clenched his hands into fists; here, oh, here were the monsters he'd been seeking.

The cat rubbed his cheek against Ladd's shoulder and said, "Soon, now." He leapt up lightly onto the bar, and all eyes turned to him, so striking, russet and white. "I would like to propose a toast," he said, the very tip of his tail flicking, "to the strongest one among you, if you gentlemen will only tell me which of you that is."

All the ogres burst out in a clamor, each one arguing that he should be the one chosen, and the cat watched them with eyes wide and bright as new pennies. Any of them would be fun to kill, Ladd thought; he had only to decide where to begin.

"Hold your tongues," boomed a voice over the crowd, and the ogres fell silent. Standing up from a table in the back of the room was the meanest, ugliest ogre of the lot. "Have you forgotten who the don is, here?"

"No, sir," said the other ogres, and, "You're the boss," and they made way for the ogre don to swagger toward the bar.

"Hhaaa," said Ladd -- how clever his cat was! -- and showed all his teeth. "You think you're so tough?" And then he fell on the ogre with all the ferocity of a monster, and tore him to pieces right on the spot.

Now, as you can well imagine, the other ogres liked that not one bit. They roared, and set upon Ladd with their knives and pistols, with their saps and tommy guns. But Ladd and the cat were both quick and fierce, fighting back with fists and broken bottles, with sharp teeth and claws. When the fight ended they were the only two creatures left standing.

The cat picked his way across the carnage delicately, his suit more red now than his fur. He rested his front paws against the lapels of Ladd's jacket and stretched up to lick blood from Ladd's cheek with his rough tongue. "Well?" he purred. "Is that what you wanted?"

"You are a good kitty," Ladd said, and reached up to scratch the cat behind his ears. "You'll have to teach me how to purr like you do, so I can tell you just how pleased I am."

"My pleasure," said the cat, and it was.

They took over the ogres' speakeasy after that, and the cat did in fact teach Ladd how to purr, and Ladd kept the cat in fancy suits -- except, of course, when he kept him out of them. Ladd had all the excitement he wanted, and the cat never lacked for cream, and if nothing more wicked has come along, why, then they must be living there still.