The Tea Shop [mxm]

XV: Capes and Cuddles

As the light shone in his face, Wren realised he'd forgotten to shut the blinds the night before. He groaned and shuffled around, trying to get the damn sun out of his eyes. He was way too tired to get out of bed to close the curtains.

As he shuffled around, though, he noticed that he wasn't in his own bed. Whatever he was lying on was much narrower, and this caused a problem when he turned around and there was nothing to lie on. Except for the floor, which greeted him with a hard thud.

He shot up in surprise, and quickly remembered that he wasn't even in his own house. He'd stayed over at Elliot's place, because when they finally separated after all those amazing kisses, it was far too late to walk back to the tea shop and retrieve his car to drive home. (And some of the alcohol might still have been in his system, no matter how much Elliot's lips sobered him up). So Elliot had invited him to stay, offering Wren the only bed in the small apartment. Wren had refused to accept that, and had promptly laid down on the couch and refused to get off. He must've fallen asleep rather quickly, because he couldn't remember the end of their argument, but at least this meant he won it.

A puff of air in his face caught him by surprise, and when he turned his head he got a mouth full of hair. Fur, he realised soon, as he pulled his head back in shock.

Oh God, the cat. Agnes? Wren couldn't remember. He wasn't really a cat person, and had to admit that instead of paying attention to Elliot rambling on about the little devil in his house, Wren had payed attention to the way his eyes shone and how his lips moved.

Oops.

The cat was glaring at him, which was totally understandable, Wren later realised when he remembered that they hadn't fed her the night before. Where the hell had she been hiding? As far away from the kisses and cuddles - and what came after that - as possible, Wren assumed.

Okay, so how did you feed those things? There was probably food and a bowl somewhere in the kitchen.

He reached down to untangle his legs from the blanket that had somehow ended up on top of him sometime during the night - most likely Elliot's doing. He smiled at the mental image of Elliot tucking him into bed, and felt slightly embarrassed. For some reason he felt that he should be the one to take Elliot to bed and kiss him goodnight, not the other way around. It was sweet, though, and Wren appreciated it.

It was chilly in the apartment, and though he was slightly uncomfortable he was still glad he was fully clothed. Otherwise he would most likely have frozen to death during the night. His shirt had slid from its place in his pants, and was crumpled somewhere above his bellybutton, and his pants were riding low. He shivered as his abdomen was exposed to the chilly air.

Why on earth did Elliot keep it this cold?

He chose to roam around the apartment with the blanket over his shoulders, looking for something to feed the glaring beast with. She stayed hot on his heels, clearly thinking horrible things about him, like how incompetent he must be for not knowing how the fuck to feed her.

Wren had never been a pet person. And cats were just the worst, looking at you with eyes full of resentment, and those damn claws. Wren nearly shuddered. For Elliot's sake, though, he decided to be nice to little Agnes. Let the thing have her damn food, as long as she stops shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

He found the food eventually, and filled the bowl that stood in the corner. Hmpf. Incompetent, my ass, Wren thought to himself. He knew how to take care of animals, this was obviously proof enough of that.

He studied the cat for a moment as it ate, butt up in the air and tail wagging. Hold on a second, were those... balls? Wren choked on his own saliva, and coughed his lungs out. Okay, so the bastard wasn't Agnes, it wasn't even female.