Work Text:
Thirty-one hours. Thirty-one. Three tens, plus a single for a tip. That’s how many hours Leo had spent on this project. Considering he had a pretty damn good hourly rate at the shop, that meant this project was already worth one thousand two hundred forty dollars, and that was before he got into the cost of the materials. But none of that mattered did it? Because, at the end of the day Leo knew he’d pay way more than that if it kept his boy happy. Because keeping Festus happy was one of the most important goals of his day to day life.
The project was a cat tree. Simple in concept, just go to the store and buy one. Get it online, delivered right to your front door if you couldn’t be bothered to brave the wilderness and get it yourself. They weren’t that expensive, decent ones were only about thirty bucks, and a hundred fifty, two hundred bucks could get you a really nice one. The hardest part of a cat tree was supposed to be finding space in your cramped studio that was already stuffed to the gills with scratching posts and beds for your furry feline companion, and then trying to decipher the instructions that had been seemingly put together by a drunk toddler who only had a semi-firm grasp on the concept of language as a whole, much less English. Leo had tried flipping to the Spanish translation, to see if that made any more sense. Unsurprisingly, it had not.
Leo Valdez was no stranger to cat trees. In fact, he’d bought four in the past eighteen months. Unfortunately, Festus was a strong believer in the inspirational quotes along the lines of The lion does not concern himself with the laws of physics, and not a single god damn mass produced product could long withstand the force of a 22-pound lion flinging himself at their flimsy platforms.
So, after that fourth tree started showing signs of concerningly early wear, Leo got to work. He would design the single best cat tree that had ever treed a cat in the history of domesticity. Simba himself would be looking over from Pride Rock, wistfully sighing about how he wished his hangout was even half that cool. Leo had thought of everything. His first step was abandoning the idea of a single structure, and he developed a perfect cat highway that circled the entire studio, with branching catwalks zig-zagging all over and connecting one area to another. This highway was anchored with four towers: one by the front door, one by the bed, another by the big living room window and a final one by the bathroom for quick litterbox access. Each one of these towers was meticulously arranged to have the perfect balance of scratching posts, batting toys (all in the shapes of butterflies to soothe Piper’s bird-loving heart), hiding spots, cuddling cups, and platforms for Festus to stretch out and luxuriate on. No individual thing could be too big or it would wind up overcrowded and Festus wouldn’t use it, but it all had to be big enough to support Festus’s mind-bogglingly massive body of pure muscle and stupidity and brilliance. And, of course, it had to be sturdy enough to stand up to said massive body landing on it with the full force of gravity and confidence. To put it lightly, this cat tree (well, really more of a jungle canopy at this point) was a feat of feline-fueled engineering and he was more than a little proud of himself when he’d finished the very last bit at the shop and packed it up in a box to go home with him that night.
He lugged the heavy thing home with him, and the next day he got to work. He had the day off, so from the moment he finished breakfast (11:33 but WHATEVER) he got to work setting the whole thing up. He made sure everything was perfectly level, he found the strongest studs to anchor it, and he secured every piece with sturdy bolts drilled into the walls, floors and ceiling. He wasn’t getting his deposit back, but he figured that didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was planning to meet the love of his life and move out at the end of his lease so they could raise a menagerie of pets together. He and Festus were set to live in their single-parent household for a good long while. It was fine, and it wasn’t like his landlord could do anything about it now anyway.
He spent three and a half hours on getting everything set up, on making sure it was perfect. He had managed to sweat through his shirt, he banged his thumb with a hammer twice, and he’d developed a certain understanding with language-delayed drunk toddlers when looking at his own notes, but it was done. Each and every piece was in its perfect place. His weeks-long labor of love was finally, finally ready, and he couldn’t be prouder.
All that was left was the kitty seal of approval.
“Festus!” Leo called, poking around in all of his cat’s favorite skulking spots. “Come on out, I got something to show you!”
Leo fruitlessly looked for another five minutes, and he was genuinely starting to worry that maybe Festus had snuck out somehow, when he suddenly heard it. A soft little kitty yawn and the accompanying jingle of a bell was coming straight out of the pile of junk Leo had left from his construction project. With one prayer he knew wouldn’t be answered shot to the heavens, Leo peered into the box where Festus was curled up, fast asleep.
“All this effort, just for you, and you don’t even care,” Leo accused. Festus just curled up into a tighter, more content ball. Leo rolled his eyes and flopped on the couch. Whatever. He cared, and all that mattered was that he was ordering himself a congratulatory pizza.