Work Text:
On top of a small hill in the outskirts of Oh-kay City, where its grass was vibrant and tall, stood proudly a little red, dog house. Although small on the outside, through the scratched blue door, expanded into a chaotic and colorful home. Its blue striped walls were adorned with various picture frames, drawings, and other miscellaneous tchotchkes. The floor was scattered art supplies, forgotten pillow forts, and messily sprawled blankets. The moon’s rays illuminated the home in a soft nightly glow. Leading up to the stairs, through the door that lead to the main bedroom, curled up on the full-sized bed was a long, slender tabby. Hands were wrapped around one of the pillows as it's slumber continued.
The tabby's ear twitched as he stirred himself awake, feeling his joints creak from the stiffness. Sitting upright, the figure smacked his dry lips, eyes still partially closed due to their grogginess. Breath was deep and slow as he slowly shook the sleep off of him, arms stretching up to the air to loosen their stiff joints. He scrunched his eyes closed tightly as his arms, shoulder blades, and back cracked and popped.
After a few seconds of holding their position, he let his arms fall back down to his side, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He opened his eyes and let himself get adjusted to the dark room. His eyes glided across the room until they landed to the digital clock that perched on top of the nightstand, the neon green digits glowing brightly. 7:45 pm it read.
He should be coming home in about an hour, he thought to himself as he shifted his legs to the edge of the bed. Feet firmly planting to the wooden floorboards, he pushed himself upright until he was out of the bed. A yawn escaped his lips, his hand reaching down to his stomach to scratch it. Feet shuffled towards the dresser drawer, and pulled out a baggy T-shirt and a set of pajama pants.
Putting on the article of clothing, his hands reached out to the doorknob and twisted the knob. The door squeaked loudly as he pulled the wooden frame to reveal the hallway. To his right was Li'l Petey's bedroom, shut tightly and uninhabited for the night. Much to his protest, Li'l Petey had managed to convince him to sleep over at Molly's house... for the 3rd time this week. He shook his head in disbelief of himself. Those darn puppy eyes. To his left was the stairway that led to their hearth. Walking forward and grabbing onto the railing he made his descent to the living room. With each step that he took, the floorboards underneath him squeaked and groaned from the added weight.
Reaching down to the last step, his hands ran across the wall, digits feeling around for the light switch. Finding the switch, he toggled the lever up, and the living room was flooded with the warm light from the ceiling. He winced slightly from the drastic change of lighting, shielding his eyes with his hand as he adjusted slowly to the yellow hues.
Seconds passed and Petey's eyes finally adjusted to the living room light. Lowering his hand, he examined the chaos of the living room- Li'l Petey's art supplies had covered every available space of the living room. Papers stacked and scattered as they were filled with colored drawings. The crayons, chalk, and dried paint palettes were sprawled on the ground and coffee table. Another sigh left his mouth.
He shook his head and slowly made his way to the kitchen, a cold shiver ran through his body as the wooden floorboards of the living room changed to the the cold linoleum flooring of the kitchen. He turned on one of the lights, the soft glow of the lightbulb illuminating the oven and neighboring countertops.
Coffee. That was the only thing in his mind right now as he stared aimlessly at his surroundings, reaching out to the coffee machine and opened the lid. taking the machine to the sink, he ran the cold water into the water compartment until the water reached its fill line. Carefully setting it back down to the counter, he plugged the machine to the wall socket, the light switch glowing a faint red. Reaching upwards to one of the floating shelves, he grabbed a coffee filter and a bag of ground coffee. He lazily placed the filter to the basket.
Opening the bag, his nose was hit the aroma of toasted wood, chocolate, and citrus. He leaned forward and took another deep inhale of the roasted beans. Straightening up, he let out an exhale and began to pour the grounds to the basket until he felt that a good amount had been placed. He closed the bag and placed it back to the shelf above him.
Closing the lid and turning the coffee machine on, he allowed himself to lean against the counter, listening to the sputtering of the machine as the water heated up and moved through the reservoir, eventually pushing through and dripping the dark brown liquid that so desperately called to him. The aroma of the coffee slowly began to envelop the kitchen, and Petey, now fully awake from his nap, began to examine his surroundings and mentally began to formulate a checklist before the other would come back home.
The brew sputtered to a stop, and Petey grabbed one of the mugs that was laying on the drying rack and poured himself a cup. Steam rolled off from the mug, feeling the ceramic cup heating up around his hands. Nearing the mug close to his mouth, he gave a gentle blow before taking a small sip. He grimaced at the bitterness of the coffee, but nonetheless invited the warmth into his mouth.
He stood there, drinking his coffee slowly and enjoying the heat and quietness of the house. His ears twitched at hearing the faint chirping of the grasshoppers outside, the creaking of the foundation, and the shallow, rhythmic ticking of the analog clock in the kitchen. His eyes looked at the clock, the fingers moving at their designated slots with each tick and lurch of their gears.
8:02 PM. He had less than an hour left.
Setting the half empty mug on the counter, he walked over to the fridge and opened the door, leaning downward to examine the contents within the fridge. A carton of milk, an assortment of various fruits, leftovers from last night, and a can of tuna. Looking around, his hand extended to the can of tuna and pulled it out from the fridge. Closing the door behind him, he hooked his nail at the tab and cracked open the can.
His other hand reached for the drawer next to him and pulled it open and grabbed a spoon, hastily closing the drawer once more. He dug the spoon into the compact meat, scooping a big chunk of the tuna and placing it in his mouth.
He hummed in delight, the chewy tuna bringing comfort to his empty stomach and cravings. Closing his eyes, he continued to scoop a spoonful of tuna and eat it with such joy until the tin was empty.
Satisfied with his snack, he tossed the empty tin to the bin and placed the dirty spoon in the sink. Grabbing his mug, he took another sip of the now lukewarm coffee. Setting down the mug once more, he made his way over to the living room and began to tidy up the place.
However, just as he was about to begin, his eyes fell onto the record player that stand on top of the wooden crate, and the rows of vinyl records that were in the milk crate next to the record player. Stepping forward, he made his way over to the corner. He squatted down, fingers flicking through the records. His digits stopped at a single sleeved vinyl, the cover resembling oil based paint, a vague image of a shark covering the upper half of the vinyl cover. In a simple font, the vinyl read 'Shallow Bed.'
He shrugged his shoulders, deciding that any kind of music while cleaning would be better than silence. Standing up, he slipped the vinyl out of its cover. Lifting the needle of the record player, he gently placed the vinyl and lowered the needle to the edge of the disk. Adjusted the speed to 33 RPM, he turned on the record player.
The record player hummed to life, static emitting from the sound horn before it began to play notes of the first song. Adjusting the volume, He let the music fill the quiet room, replacing the muffled nightlife of the outside.
With a hum of content, he turned around and gradually began to pick up the discarded pencils and crayons from their various spots of residence. He meticulously placed each pencil in their respective boxes and slots. Each crayon was slid back into place to their home, accompanying their lesser used companions. Each paint brush found was picked up and placed back into the paintbrush kit that Greg had bought for Li'l Petey a while ago, the bristles fraying and stained in various colors from their usage. Open paint pallets were closed and organized back into the plastic bin that stored all of the kitten's artistic tools.
His fingers ran through the containers gently, almost hesitantly. Remembrance of the past tugged at his heart, even if long ago. He gave up on drawing a long time ago, but was happy to see that his son hadn't lost the passion that he once clung to so dearly.
He shook his head, shaking the negative thoughts that had to begun to surface once more. He turned his attention to the mass of sheets of unfinished drawings that had littered the living room floor and coffee table. His hands began to grab the sheets and neatly stack them into place, careful as to not destroy Li'l Petey's progress of his drawings. Most of them were unfinished or a simple scribble of the colors, the left over wax shavings clinging to the papers. Some pages were continuations of his ill mannered comics, various poop and fart jokes messily scribbled across the panels. He rolled his eyes and continued to pick up the sheets of paper until they had formed a nice, uniform pile on his hands. Tucking them gently on the plastic bin, he made sure nothing else was left behind before closing the lid.
His attention shifted to the couch, where the pillows were messily tossed or on the floor. the blankets were unfolded and draped lazily on the frame of the couch. He grabbed the nearest blanket and began to fold it, neatly stacking them next to the couch. The tabby adjusted the pillows, arranging them neatly. The letters of 'D,' 'LP,' and 'P' roughly stitched into each pillow. His fingers grazed the rough edges as he fluffed and straightened the pillows out from their creases.
He scanned the living room once more, deeming that his cleaning was good enough to move on to the kitchen. Flicking on the switch, the white glow of the fluorescents flooding the kitchen. His eyes glanced back up to the analog clock that continued to tick softly on the wall.
8:35 PM.
He walked towards the coffee machine once more, the half-full pot calling to him once more. Grabbing his mug, he poured out the now-cold coffee down the sink drain. He grabbed a hold of the pot and pulled out of the plate warmer, steam slowly sleeping out from the dark liquid. He poured himself another cup of coffee, relishing the warmth that radiated from the cup.
He leaned against the counter and took longer sips of his coffee. He winced slightly at the burning hot liquid as it touched his tongue, but he continued to drink. He sighed heavily as he stared at the clock, hoping for the time to move faster.
8:38 PM.
His tail twitched in annoyance. Setting down his mug on the counter, he turned his attention to the sink, the dirty dishes stacked haplessly. Walking forward, he grabbed the long rubber gloves next to the sink and slid them on, his fingers flexing slightly as they adjusted to the confines of the glove. He turned on the faucet to warm, grabbing the sponge with one hand, and a dirty plate with another. Feeling the warm seep through the glove and to his fingers, he began to clean and scrub off the grime from this morning’s breakfast. He repeated the process with each dish until they were wiped clean of the remnants of food.
Cleaning the sponge, he added a line of dish soap, squeezing and massaging the sponge until suds began to form. He repeated the process, cleaning each dish meticulously and rinsing them off with the running water. Once they were cleaned of any food and soap, he set the dishes in the drying rack one by one until the sink was empty. Rinsing off his own gloves, he turned off the faucet and removed his gloves.
Another sigh escaped his lips, reaching towards the mug beside him and drank the remaining contents of the now lukewarm coffee.
His eyes glanced back at the clock. 8:51 PM
He should be out of work by now, he thought to himself. He knew that it would take some time before he arrived back home, especially is he got distracted by a rogue squirrel, but it still didn’t soothe his nerves. He never would admit it, but he missed the presence of the other.
Unsure of what to do with his time, he paced around the kitchen quietly. He didn’t like waiting- always needing to be doing something to pass the time, to keep him distracted.
He turned his attention back to the living room, the faint sound of the record player still playing the track that he had placed. Music alone wouldn’t be enough to keep him distracted enough until he arrived home. Pacing himself to the living room, he looked around his surroundings once more and settled on a few finished pieces of Li’l Petey’s comics. He shook his head slightly, walking over the finished pile and grabbed a handful of comics, retreating back to the confines of the kitchen.
He placed the comics down on the table and returned his attention to his now empty mug. Grabbing a hold of the handles, he reached forward to refill his mug for the third time tonight. As it filled up to the brim, the pot that held his brew now ran empty. Setting the mug down, he figured that he should brew a fresh pot for the expecting cop.
Setting down his mug next to the comic books, he rinsed off the pot from the remnants of the previous brew and placed it back to the hot plate. He cracked open the lid and grabbed a hold of the basket, throwing away the previous brew’s coffee ground into the trash bin.
Hands reached upwards for a new filter and the bag of coffee grounds that were perched in the upper shelf above him. Placing the filter into the basket, he repeated the process of pouring the fresh coffee grounds into the basket, the faints aroma of toasted wood and chocolate wafting to his nostrils. He added water to the compartment until it reached the fill line and closed the lid. He flicked the brew switch on and hummed softly as he heard the coffee machine sputter back to life.
He sat at the kitchen table and began to go over the contents of the comic, sneaking glances at the wall clock above him. Despite the excessive poop and fart jokes that his kid had littered throughout the storyline, he couldn’t help but be impressed at his determination to make something for himself. His hand grabbed the mug and sipped the contents slowly as he flipped through each comic, an occasional chuckle escaping his lips.
Time continued to pass and soon Petey had read all of his son’s finished comics. His mug now empty and a fresh pot brewed, he stood up from the chair. He glanced once more at the clock:
9:12 PM.
A half hour almost passed and still there was no indications given that the other was near home. He was half tempted to pull out his phone and text him, but decided against it- not wanting to disturb the other.
However, he did not have to wait much longer for a sign. His ears perked up as he heard the faint crunching of footsteps as they neared the front doo followed by the muffled jingle of keys as they clanged against each other.
Petey walked from the kitchen and peered over at the entrance hallway, hearing the other figure across the door struggle to unlock the door.
The doorknob turned, the wooden frame pushed inward as a figure emerged from the darkness of outside. Eyes sunken from the long hours of work, fur ruffled and out of place, and uniform disheveled, Greg stepped into their home. A long and dramatic sigh escaped his lips. On his other hand was a small grocery bag, in which the contents inside remained a mystery to the expectant tabby.
"Hey Greg," he said, walking towards the tired hybrid. His hands extending outwards and removed the cap from his head, other hand grazing the other’s and took the keys off of him, hanging the items to the key mount next to the entrance.
Greg let out a long winded sigh as he struggled to remove his shoes, slightly losing his balance while still holding the grocery bag in this other hand.
He rolled his eyes, reaching forward to grab the bag from Greg’s hands. The other turned his attention from his shoes and looked straight at Petey, who was mere inches away from his own face.
They froze, staring into each other’s eyes for a couple seconds before Greg lost his balance once more and quickly tried to balance himself out. Taking the opportunity, Petey quickly swiped the bag and peered inside.
Inside the bag were two pints of vanilla iced cream. He cocked his head to the side and gave Greg a questioning look.
Greg, who had now taken off his shoes and was unbuttoning his uniform gave Petey as soft smile and shrugged his shoulders.
“Whatever,” was all he said, closing the bag in his hands as he made his way back to the kitchen. “Go take a shower, you stink.”
Petey heard the soft woof of acknowledgment, the thudding of footsteps echoing through the house and up the stairs. Upon entering the kitchen, he walked up to the fridge and opened the freezer door, looking at the contents from within the box. Hands pushing and rearranging the frozen meats and ice pops, he made enough room to place the two pints of ice cream inside and shut the door.
His ears perked up at the muffled sound of the running water from upstairs. He walked back over to the kitchen table and began to clean up the piles of comics he read, organizing them in order and back into a neat stack. Picking them up, he walked back over to the living room and carefully placed Li’l Petey’s comics to where they once were.
The record player stopped playing its last song, the living room now being replaced with the occasional skip of the needle. Lifting the needle, he placed the record back into its sleeve and to the milk carton with its other vinyls.
He titled his head slightly, hearing that the water was still running above him. He should be almost done, he thought to himself, knowing their routine would be the same as it always was.
Petey turned his attention to the television on top of the entertainment center, and pressed the power button. The box hummed to life, and soon a random movie that was playing. No noise or music was blasting through the TV, only silence. That’s how he knew Greg liked it.
Making his way back to the kitchen, Petey grabbed his empty mug and walked over to the sink, rinsing the dried remnants of the dried coffee. Shaking the water droplets off, he walked over back to the coffee machine, where a full and fresh pot of coffee was awaiting. He set his mug down and reached for the handle of the cabinet next to him. He pulled out another mug and set it down next to his own.
Grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, he poured himself another cup of coffee, stopping mere centimeters from the brim, and did the same to the other mug.
He heard the water stop. Soon it was followed by the faint screeching of the shower rings as they glided against the shower rod. Petey grabbed the two mugs and made his way over to the kitchen table, where he set the mugs down, eyes peering out of the doorway.
The muffled sound of a door opening and closing could be heard, and shortly after, Greg made his descend down the stairs, now wearing a plain grey T-Shirt and navy blue sweat pants. His hands were on his head, a small towel being ran through his still damp fur.
Greg stopped at the entryway of the kitchen and made eye contact with the lanky tabby.
He rolled his eyes. “Here,” he began, walking over to the stocky hybrid, hands placed over Greg’s and took over on drying his fur. “You always do a lousy job, mutt”
Greg simply gave Petey a lopsided smile and stood perfectly still for the tabby. Relishing in the feeling of the other pampering him.
“*How was your day?*” He signed, arms slightly above his chest to make sure that Petey was able to read clearly.
“Oh you know, the same as usual. I applied for more jobs, hoping to finally get hired someday.” His hands continued to run through Greg’s head, moving down to dry his neck and chin area. “I took Li’l Petey to Flippy’s- he begged to have a sleepover with Molly again.”
Greg hummed, acknowledging Petey’s commentary. Eyes were closed as he enjoyed feelings Petey’s hands run through his fur, even if it was simply for ‘drying it properly.’
“Can’t really say no to that kid though.” He continued, digging the towel deeper into Greg's fur near the base of his neck. One hand gently cupped his chin and turned him to face Petey. "I have to thank a certain someone for teaching *our* kid the puppy eyes."
Greg simply shrugged once more in response, a sheepish grin cracked through his face. "*It's not my fault you fell for those eyes,*" he signed in a joking manner.
He stopped and gave the shorter a glare. He wasn't wrong, he had fallen for those eyes, but he would never admit it.
"Yeah as if," he retorted back, his hands now stopping. He clutched the towel and slid it off of Greg's neck. "Your coffee is already on the kitchen table," he said as he walked over to the laundry room to place the wet towel on the clothes bin.
Standing silently on the laundry room, he placed his hand on his heart, feeling the beat of his heart, elevated and thumping loudly against his ribcage. It was his own fault for falling for those chocolate colored eyes. Those eyes that had reminded him of the music- a symphony that clanged inside of his head. The joys of being close in proximity and touching his skin. It was never enough yet all too much at the same time, and he didn't know how to cope with the newfound emotions that constantly swirled in his mind and heart upon seeing the radiant cop.
He took a deep breath, feeling the expansion of his lungs press against his ribcage, and held his breath. Counting down from ten, he slowly exhaled, soothing his jumbled nerves. Having calmed down, he took another deep breath and made his way back to the kitchen, where Greg was sitting there expectantly and drinking his coffee. Upon seeing the orange tabby walk through the entryway, he immediately perked up. *"You were gone for a while,"* he signed, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.
He gave Greg a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, there was a mess in the laundry room and I wanted it clean before it got bad."
The hybrid gave a hum and resumed drinking his coffee, eyes never leaving Petey as he watched him pull the chair back to take a seat. He continued to stare as Petey picked up his mug and take a drink of the coffee before him. He watched those calloused paw pads grip the mug, the unevenness of his fur as it stuck out on its odds and ends. Eyes continued to graze over every feature of the lanky tabby until they rested on their face. He could still see the small indentation on where the missing whisker was supposed to be, the constant furrowing of his brows and how they formed creases on his fur. The slight sinking of his under eyes had become less prominent the longer he had stayed here ever since the lab was destroyed.
He closed his eyes and hummed in content as he continued to drink his coffee. He was unsure of what emotions he was experiencing, but all that he could determine is that he was happy to be near the tabby. He worked every day and counted the minutes on his desk, ready to head out of the building the moment his shift ended. He was happy to enter the doors to be greeted by Li'l Petey. He was even more happy to see the lanky tabby leaning against the wall and giving him a stoic look, despite his tail swishing and betraying his outward appearance.
He tilted the cup more and finished drinking the last of his coffee. Licking his lips, he set the mug down and watched as Petey finish his own coffee.
Tick Tick Tick the clock sounded off. Petey looked up and saw the time: 9:57 PM
Petey stood up from his chair and picked up both their mugs. "C'mon, our show is about to start." He walked off and set the mugs into the sink, quickly rinsing off the dried rings of caffeine that stained the inner walls of the mugs. Moving on to one of the drawers, he pulled out two spoons.
Greg stood up from his own chair, quickly tucking in his and Petey's chair, sprinting towards the freezer, and pulled out the two pints of ice cream that he had bought. He gave Petey a lopsided grin and waved the pints excitedly as he made his way to the living room.
"Yes, yes. I know," he said, shaking his head slightly. As he followed Greg, his fingers glided across the wall and turned off the lights behind him. Seeing that Greg was now sat and staring at Petey with a pleading look, he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." He turned off the living room lights and took his position next to Greg. He gave him the spoon, and was received a pint in return. Opening the lid they turned their attention to the television as it began to roll the opening song.
~~
The sun began to rise, the rays peeking through the curtains of the windows. Both Petey and Greg were lying on the couch entangled in each others arms, the empty pints of ice cream lying on the coffee table. The lanky tabby was the first to stir awake. His eyes opened slightly, irises zeroing on the locks of rusty blond fur that rested on his chest. His breathing hitched slightly, but opted to ignore the sirens that were blaring in his head. Oh well, he thought to himself. I guess I can indulge in this for a little bit longer. He relaxed slightly and closed his eyes once more, a small purr emitting from his chest as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his arms tighter.
Life has such a funny way of showing what love can blossom to. For some it may be a torrent of emotions that crash through the roaring rivers. For others it may be something as soft and mellow as the first leaves that fall off from the tree. But for the pair, It was coffee and ice cream.