Work Text:
i. Cats sometimes make a trill noise, fondly known as the ‘cat activation sound,’ when they notice their humans. The general consensus is that the sound means, “What is it? Is something happening?”
Andrew wasn’t expecting it, is all.
He finds Steven asleep at his desk with his head pillowed in his arms, cheek smooshed against the garterized hem of his sleeve. Now, Andrew has seen Steven nod off before, body swaying as he desperately tries to not pass out on the bar’s table, and he’s walked in on him snoozing on the nicer office chairs of the conference rooms more than once (while also looking for his own room to power nap in.)
But this borderline lifeless state is not something Andrew is used to. Steven is properly slumped on his desk, inches away from slipping off his chair, with his shoes only half tied up. He looks too out of it to just be dozing. Andrew feels a gentle hand on his elbow and sees Jen squeezing her way past him, raising her brows in acknowledgment.
“Sorry,” he mutters, watching as she plops down in front of her desk next to Steven’s, the commotion doing nothing to budge him out of his dreams.
He doesn’t even realize that he’s unironically being the office creep until Jen peeks back up from booting her setup, flashing him a big grin. “Need something, Andrew?” she teases.
There’s a puddle of condensation under Steven’s half-finished iced matcha latte, its thin trickles making a steady journey to the various gear spewed across the desk; it’s certainly worrying considering they’re each worth an arm and a leg, and then some.
“We have a shoot,” he says simply, dipping his fingers into the ice cold droplets. He can’t think of much to say under Jen’s amused staring. He isn’t the type to get overly self-conscious, never has been. But he swears he can see a sparkle in her dark eyes, darting from him to Steven, like she knows something he doesn’t. It isn’t a great feeling.
Without a second thought, he presses his wet fingers against the sliver of skin peeking out from under Steven’s collar, against his nape.
“Prbbt!”
Andrew pauses. That is...new. He’s grown up around a handful of human-feline hybrids, and even has experience living with them (his roommate at university had an interesting spotted pattern on his tail and ears), but he’s never heard that.
It sounded almost like a cross between a murmur and a purr, squeaked out so abruptly that he’s worried Steven must be hurting somewhere.
Andrew withdraws his hand quickly, stammering out an apology. He stands frozen as Steven shakes the sleep out of his system, his black cat ears flickering back and forth like they have minds of their own. (Which they probably do - Andrew isn’t exactly sure how much control hybrids have over them.)
“Mrrpp,” - there’s that sound again, was it this cute the first time? - Steven clears his throat, like his vocal chords are still asleep, and stretches far back into his seat, centimeters away from losing balance and falling onto the floor. “Andrew?” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
Andrew isn’t used to being taken by surprise, and isn’t entirely sure that his heart is supposed to stammer and clench like this - but they have places to be, food to taste - so he fights off the flutter of butterflies that have suddenly made home in his gut.
“Yeah, hey. Come on, we’re gonna be late.”
ii. Cats can clock up to five feet with their best jumps, even without running or using any object as leverage.
Walk-in haunted houses don’t exactly try to market their services to people like Andrew. Shane will at least have the decency to laugh good-naturedly, but Andrew just sends the actors a stoic expression before they slink back into the shadows, embarrassed. Andrew’s expression often betrays the fact that he actually does enjoy the spooky attraction, even if they fail miserably at scaring him.
There’s just something about it all being so predictable that takes the thrill out of things. Obviously he’s expecting people to try and jump him in the maze, just like how he’s now expecting someone around the corner to do something along those same lines.
Andrew’s walking with Steven and Adam in tow, the trio heading out for lunch, when he spots what he guesses is Ryan’s obnoxiously loud sneakers. The white soles wink at him from the end of the corridor, on the other side of the door that’s wedged open and leading into the parking lot. It’s a typical sunny afternoon, so even without the shoes giving away Ryan’s position, his hunched-over shadow is hard to miss - to Andrew at least.
Andrew sighs quietly to himself as he exits the Buzzfeed office, squinting into the sun and grimacing as Ryan yells out a BOO! right into his ear. Andrew’s about to drone out a sarcastic comment when suddenly Steven leaps up in the air, and right into his arms.
“Oh Je- Lord! Ryan!” Steven shouts in surprise, his black ears flattened against his head in distress. “What’s wrong with you?! You’re such an - ugh! You’re such an a-hole sometimes!”
The parking lot booms with Ryan’s cackling, waves of laughter ripping through him so intensely that he has to steady himself against the building’s wall. “S-Steven, your -” Ryan doubles over, “your face!”
Steven frowns, his tail puffed up and flicking back and forth angrily, occasionally bumping against his own thighs. He’s red in the face and embarrassed, just barely fighting down the urge to hiss. He’s sure it would’ve just made Ryan laugh harder. “Wait, are you recording this?!” he exclaims.
“Yeah,” Ryan manages to choke out. “Look- oh my god Steven you jumped like a hundred feet in the air. How is that even possible? How can you jump that high up and still fail to block my shots-” and then he’s off again, wheezing into his arm that’s propped against the wall.
Andrew isn’t sure how to react.
Under different circumstances, he’d be laughing too, because if he’s being honest, Steven’s reaction was pretty hilarious - the way his eyebrows shot up into his hairline, eyes cartoonishly wide as he let out his undignified half-shout, half-yell while rocketing into the air.
But he has a literal armful of Steven right now, and he’s pretty sure that those are Steven’s claws digging lightly into his shoulders through his denim jacket.
It’s...warm. And even though he wants to, Andrew knows he can’t blame it on the sun. He feels himself flush when he realizes his hands are essentially cupping Steven’s ass, a completely unconscious move on his part - honest - because what else are you supposed to do when someone leaps into your arms, wrapping their legs around your waist and arms around your neck?
You put your hands literally anywhere else, his mind chides him. Like on his waist.
And so Andrew does. He carefully readjusts his grip, one hand at a time so he doesn’t send Steven plummeting into the concrete, though he’s sure that Steven isn’t going anywhere with the death grip he has on him.
Steven doesn’t notice, too busy huffing at Ryan, who’s seconds away from passing out, and Andrew has never been so thankful. Having his hands on Steven's hips have somehow made things so much more intimate and therefore a hundred times worse.
“Delete it,” Steven growls, trying to sound intimidating.
Andrew feels the threat in his chest, the vibrations of Steven’s voice making him weak in the knees. He’s been holding Steven for longer than socially acceptable, and by the time he realizes his mistake, Shane waltzes out of the building, swinging his keys around his index finger, whistling a nameless tune - which quickly comes to a stop.
“Now what's going on over here?” Shane laughs. Andrew wants the ground to swallow him whole when Shane gives him a small, amused smile.
“I was supposed to get back at you for today morning! So I was waiting out here to try and scare you, but-” Ryan pulls Shane away from the group, “Shane, listen, I got the whole fucking thing on tape - ”
“I said delete it, Ryan!” Steven whines, finally leaping out of Andrew’s arms, sending him stumbling back slightly. A full-on chase ensues in the open lot, which Shane watches fondly.
“Jesus, man. What was that?” Adam finally says. “You need a water or something?”
Andrew just shakes his head, flexing his fingers by his sides, like his hands are itching to be on Steven’s waist again.
iii. Much like a human wrapping an arm around a friend for a warm hug, your cat may wrap his tail around your arm or leg to show how much he loves you.
“You’re going to be fine. Don’t things usually work out for you in the end?” Andrew says, mindlessly kicking at the gravel on the sidewalk. Steven hums, staring into the distance in hopes that the right thing to say would manifest in front of him.
The pair are walking back to Steven’s place, to where Andrew’s car is parked across the road. Their date (because that’s what they’re doing, right? Dating?) went well, filled with abundant pasta puns and fond eye-rolling, but it was around the time that they were grabbing dessert that Steven began acting skittish.
“I’m leaving Buzzfeed,” Steven had said, and suddenly Andrew’s vanilla ice cream had turned into lead in his mouth.
“What makes you say that?” Steven finally says when they reach the entrance of his apartment building.
“I mean, didn’t you feel this way when leaving P&G? This sort of, big leap of faith or some-”
“No,” Steven cuts him off suddenly. “Why… are you comforting me? Do I look like I need it?”
There's a small, sad smile on Steven's lips, so distracting that Andrew doesn't stop himself from saying, “Yeah. It is a little obvious.” And then something within him breaks a little when Steven's bottom lip wobbles and the ears atop his head droop down pathetically. He reaches for Steven's hand and pulls him into the shadows of the alleyway, even though the streets around them are deserted.
“It’s - it’s not a bad thing, you know. It’s just you act a certain way when you're upset. You get quiet, and I don't mean you suddenly stop talking. It's more like you're a knockoff version of yourself. Your laughs start being forced, and your smiles don't really reach your eyes - I thought maybe my pun game was just off today or something,” Andrew says, heart fluttering when he gets a genuine giggle from Steven.
He looks down to where their hands are interlocked and pulls Steven in until their chests barely touch. “But, if I'm being honest, these are really expressive,” Andrew says as he brushes the back of his fingers against Steven's cat ears, watching in awe as they perk up under his touch.
“I'm scared,” Steven admits quietly. He bumps his head against Andrew's hand when he tries to pull away, chasing the feeling. “What if it turns out this was something I only thought I wanted? What if it's New York all over again? And I feel like it already took forever to get here, to be like this - with you.”
Andrew feels a soft tap on his hand that has stayed holding Steven's, a tickle on his wrist from where Steven's tail is curling around it, shiny black fur over dainty bone.
He can't lie. Things have been going so well.
Andrew wants to scoff at himself for feeling so much when they've only been going to dinner regularly for a little over a month, but then he remembers the years of dancing around each other, and how much the NYC incident had changed so much for them (“Why are you running away?” “I'm not running away, Andrew.”) and decides that he deserves to feel this much.
He understands what Steven means; afterall he played a part in all the things that had led them to this - to Andrew cooking twice as much on the weekends so he can bring Steven lunch on Mondays, to having the honor of touching Steven's cat ears - something only reserved for people he completely trusts - and being able to enjoy the flush red Steven turns when Andrew brushes his lips against them.
“I know you're scared. I don't blame you,” Andrew says softly, willing himself to focus and not lose himself in the way that Steven is nuzzling into his palm, rubbing the top and sides of his head against it. “But you do know we don't have to work in the same office to date, right? We don't need to see each other every day, even though I'd like that, to be - to be boyfriends.”
The grip of Steven's tail on his wrist tightens. “I just feel like I wasted so many years,” Steven admits sadly. “It could've been us being the annoying office couple.”
Andrew laughs, fondness blossoming in his chest. “I wouldn't call those years a waste. Not when I spent them around you - romantically or not. And speaking of annoying couples, if I had to trust you with anyone, it'd be your two idiot co-founders. Have a little faith in them.”
Steven's ears twitch and then he's smiling at Andrew, showing off his roundness of his cheeks. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly, feeling the weight drop from his shoulders, only to be replaced with an alarming awareness of how close he and Andrew have been for the entire conversation.
“When do you know it's the right time to kiss someone for the first time?” fourteen year old Steven asked.
“Eh, your gut will let you know, I guess.” Alvin replied.
Well, all Steven's gut is telling him right now is to bolt upstairs because that dairy based pasta sauce and ice cream combo is not doing him any favors - but if you can count on Steven to do one thing, it's to read the mood.
So he tilts his head down and kisses Andrew; a chaste, innocent peck that shouldn't leave him shaking, but does. “Andrew. Andrew, I-”
“Yeah. I know. I'm here,” he whispers against Steven's lips. “I'm here,” he repeats until Steven’s shaking ceases. Andrew knows they're in public, and this isn't really their style, but he needs this.
They both do.
iv. In adulthood, a cat supposedly will knead when it's feeling happy or content.
If Andrew's being honest, his leg has been asleep for the past hour because of the uncomfortable position, but he'd rather deal with the aftermath of pins and needles than jostle Steven off of him and out of their cuddle heap.
They’re six months into their relationship and Andrew isn’t sure if he’s just impatient or if they’re taking things agonizingly slow. That makes me sound like I’m desperate, Andrew thinks to himself, peeking over Steven’s silver hair to see his tail leisurely thump about against his own legs.
It’s not that Andrew minds (much), because there’s truly something fascinating about rediscovering how innocent love can be. He isn't sure he's ever felt so many butterflies just by having someone slip their hand into his own, or having them kiss him goodbye on the cheek at their doorstep. It's nice, but it's normal to have needs.
And God, does Andrew have needs.
But he can’t be having those thoughts when he’s this close to Steven, so he begrudgingly snuffs out his desire and buries his nose into Steven's hair, tightening his grip around Steven's waist, pulling him into an innocent, intimate embrace. Steven makes a pleased noise; equal parts of amused laughter and a content hum that Andrew feels in the space that their chests are pressed together.
“They make things look so easy,” Steven says, still invested in the hair transformation that is taking place on their television. Andrew stopped paying attention when the video hit the twenty-five minute mark, so he just grunts absentmindedly. “What do you think about me dyeing my hair pink next?”
Andrew raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn't object to that,” he says, running his fingers through the tops of Steven’s hair, amused with the way his cat ears flicker at the intrusion. “Would that mean saying goodbye to your black roots, though? I kinda like them like this,” he continues, rubbing the tips of Steven’s ears.
“Hmm, dunno,” Steven hums. His eyelids flutter at the attention, basking in the soft but firm feel of Andrew’s fingers on his scalp. “I could keep them. They help make my ears stand out less.”
“Oh,” Andrew frowns. Steven isn’t wrong, it’s just he hadn’t thought of it like that. “Is there a reason to make them stand out less?”
Steven shakes his head, disrupting Andrew’s hands from where they are. “Not really, it’s just - it’s just nice to not have people gawk at you, I guess. And that’s funny because that’s coming from Mr. Silver Hair over here, but… you know how people can be with stuff like me,” Steven says, voice growing quieter with every word.
Andrew shivers at how fast his blood turns boiling hot. “Yeah,” he says dully, because he’s one second away from picking a fight with everyone on the street. He kisses Steven on the forehead, maybe with a little more force than necessary. “But...you know how I feel about you, right?”
“Yeah,” Steven says quietly, hoping that he isn’t misunderstanding what Andrew is implying. “I do.”
“Good,” Andrew says and clears his throat awkwardly. Steven’s ears twitch - expectant - so Andrew runs his hands over the shiny black fur again, scratching softly at the base where it blends into Steven’s dark roots. He desperately needs to wipe his hands down, or get his heart to stop jackrabbiting in his chest - or really anything to help dissipate the sudden heavy atmosphere that’s fallen over them. Was that not the right thing to say? Did I say too much-
Or maybe too little?
He waits for Steven to make a lighthearted comment, but Steven stays focused on the TV, head pillowed on Andrew’s chest and body still slightly stiff in his arms. His tail is noticeably still.
“Steven,” Andrew starts, holding Steven’s head against his chest when Steven tries to lift it to look at Andrew, “you don’t have to try and hide them. You don’t have to be ashamed of them, and I know that you already know that, but I also know it’s hard to remember that sometimes, so I just wanted to say that I- I love you just the way you are. Even if you can be such a pain in the ass.”
He finally relents his grip on Steven’s head and tries to wipe his clammy palms on the couch as subtly as he can. He feigns sudden interest in the spectacle on TV, feeling his face heat up when he sees Steven stare at him, wide-eyed, from the corner of his eyes.
“Andrew,” he says, breathless.
Andrew swallows like it’s painful, choosing only to hum quietly in response, but he’s almost certain his heart is about to thump out of his chest and through his sweater. For a second he irrationally thinks that that's exactly what's happening, because suddenly there are pinpricks of pain across his chest and he only just suppresses a yelp. “Fuck, what the-”
His words quiet mid-sentence when he turns to see Steven staring at him with big, earnest eyes, and a flush beginning to overtake his features. “You said you love me,” he says in awe, unconsciously kneading at Andrew's sweater.
Andrew bites the inside of his cheek at the alternating stabs of discomfort.
It won't kill him, he's sure of that, but his nerves are on edge and his body is reflexively jerking away. But he can't say anything, not right now, not when Steven has just quietly confessed his silent insecurities about being a hybrid, and calling him out on some of his instincts really wouldn't help in setting the mood for the whole ‘first I love you’s moment he is shooting for.
“Yeah, I did say that,” he chokes out, offering Steven a small smile.
“I love you too,” Steven gushes, his dark eyes just shy of watering. He surges forward to kiss Andrew, once on the cheek and then messily on the lips. “I can't believe you said it first, I've been holding it in for so long, I wanted to tell you that day outside my apartment, when -”
Andrew gives Steven a kiss of his own just to shut him up before he talks himself breathless.
“Hey, relax,” Andrew laughs, though he is endeared at the completely lovestruck look Steven is giving him.
“I'm sorry, I just - I just love you. I have for so, so long.”
“I know,” Andrew says, smitten. “Me too.”
And then there's that sharp dig in his chest again and Andrew has to pretend to violently cough to disguise a yelp.
Fucking hell, Andrew thinks. Is this what they mean when they say love hurts?
v. In most cases, cats will purr when they are in a relaxed environment, sending out waves of calmness.
“This feels so wrong.”
“Steven, relax. It isn’t that much of a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?! Andrew,” he sputters, “I’m skipping work!”
Andrew groans, physically restraining himself from slamming his head against the steering wheel. “You took a half-day. That isn’t skipping work. You - you wrote your team a letter a week in advance, and you stayed an extra hour today. Which meant I had to wait for you an hour. This isn’t even a half-day anymore, it’s - it’s leaving work like two hours early!”
Steven pouts, arms crossed defensively and tail jittering about, occasionally bumping into the center console. “The bottom line is they’re at work and I’m not. I kinda feel dirty,” Steven squirms for emphasis, “like I’m lying about being sick so I can skip school.”
Andrew’s face crumples into a look of sheer disbelief, but he keeps his eyes on the road.
“Okay, fine! I’ve never lied to get out of school but I imagine this is how it feels like.”
Andrew sighs loudly. The conversation would have been ten times less annoying if it wasn’t Steven himself who insisted on helping Andrew with unpacking. Andrew didn’t understand, it was his stuff after all, but Steven seemed keen on being a “good boyfriend” (another thing that Andrew didn’t understand, because Steven already is a good boyfriend.)
“If you’re feeling that bad then I can honestly just turn the car around.”
Steven tries to shrink into his sweater, nervously picking at his nails while keeping his gaze hardset out the car window.
Andrew opens his mouth - and decides against it, choosing instead to drive with a grip that nearly snaps the wheel in half. He didn’t mean to snap, but it was too late. The couple stay hotboxed in silence, the sound of tires on concrete suddenly booming in their ears.
“Sorry,” they both eventually say at a red light, and then laugh, embarrassed over speaking over each other.
“No, I understand. I shouldn’t have - ”
“Don't be, I mean it was me who wanted this -”
“What do you mean? I want this too, Steven.”
Steven sucks in an audible breath. “I’m still sorry,” he says, and fidgets for a second before carefully leaning over the console to kiss Andrew on the cheek.
“Yeah,” Andrew smiles. He catches Steven by the back of the neck before he can pull away completely and kisses him hard, giving Steven no time to adjust before he’s licking into his mouth. He laughs into the kiss - drowning the quiet moan that Steven slips out - when he sees Steven’s ears perk up animatedly in surprise. He slides his other hand high up Steven’s thigh, letting the heat of his palm melt through the denim, and then squeezes firmly.
Steven shudders, thumbing the collars of Andrew’s shirt, heat beginning to pool in his belly. “Andy -”
Beep! Beeeeep!
The pair startle apart, with Steven turning red in an instant and Andrew internally rolling his eyes. He thinks about flipping off the car behind them but he knows he- they- are in the wrong, sucking face at the stoplight now turned green, in the middle of the day. So he slips back into his seat, adjusts his seatbelt and they speed back home.
Steven shifts in the passenger seat, not-so subtly adjusting himself in his pants and scratching the back of his neck nervously. He chews his bottom lip, still shiny and slick with spit. They turn at the corner and Steven catches Andrew peeking at him from the corner of his eye, setting the pair off into a dissolved mess of hysterical giggles.
“I can’t believe you, Andy.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”
“Shut up.”
They snicker every now and then, but for the most part behave until they reach the apartment.
Andrew smiles politely at the lady who walks into the elevator as he and Steven walk out, seeing as he might as well try and “be friendly” (Steven’s words) with the neighbors.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Andrew says as he unlocks the door. His keys jingle alongside his Gudetama keychain, a gift from Steven for their recent anniversary (that was attached to a key to his apartment.)
“Probably the heavy stuff first - maybe all your kitchenware?”
Andrew mutters a quiet ‘alright’ as he unties his sneakers. He drops his keys into a little bowl by the door, where it sits filled with more keychains- souvenirs from their shared trips to Japan, Australia and Hawaii.
Steven locks the door and slips past him, into the living room that’s cluttered with taped-up boxes, sitting under luggages full of half of Andrew’s closet (the other half already mixed into Steven’s wardrobe - his coats hang alongside Steven’s jackets, his undershirts neatly mingle with Steven’s shirts and shorts from all the nights Andrew’s stayed over.)
A box appropriately labelled ‘FRAGILE’ is popped open by Steven, who peers into it curiously, hands on his hips. “Is this a frying pan? I already have like, two nonstick ones.”
“That’s a skillet, idiot,” Andrew says fondly.
“Oh, okay. Sorry I’m not up to par with my kitchenware, Mr. Tasty.”
“Shut up,” Andrew laughs, gently pulling Steven further into the kitchen by the elbow. “Plates first.”
The pair get to work, with Andrew carefully stacking his old-fashioned plates atop each other after Steven quickly wipes them down. There’s a bit of clatter and a lot of clangs as Andrew rearranges Steven’s cabinets, pulling out old mugs and stacking tupperware on top of each other to make room for his own possessions.
Andrew spots a neon yellow plastic cup in the back and recognizes it immediately - he had jokingly gifted it to Steven early in their relationship when Steven confessed to sometimes having the urge to bat glassware off the table, and had actually given in once - resulting in the destruction of a perfectly good coffee mug.
He carefully pushes the plastic cup to the side, and places his favorite stack of plates next to it.
It’s only after Andrew collapses an empty box and wedges it under the coffee table that he hears a familiar, uniform rumble. Steven’s staring at Andrew’s coffee maker, his tail swishing leisurely behind him, and without knowing it, purring up a storm.
“What’re you thinking so hard about? What’s wrong with my coffee maker?” Andrew asks casually, leaning against Steven to hear more of him.
“It looks better than mine. I should probably get rid of mine or something.”
“Probably.”
“Yeah, probaby.”
Andrew bites back a smile. “Is that all you’re thinking about?”
Steven has yet to notice his quiet purring, or how he’s kneading the arm of his soft sweater.
Sometimes, Steven will act like this over the little things, like when Andrew would insist he walk Steven to his door after driving him home, or when he’d remember Steven’s favorite order at the boba place they sometimes visited. And sometimes circumstances were less pretty, like when Steven would feel weighed down with anxiety, and would stay curled up under Andrew’s sheets, until Andrew pushed them off and pulled Steven to his chest and just held him until a soft purr buzzed out of him.
“I’m just glad I asked to leave early. I feel kinda dumb for freaking out - but overall I’m just...glad.”
“Do you like unpacking that much?” Andrew teases, and then laughs when Steven playfully shoves him.
“You know what I mean! It’s just...awfully domestic, or something. And it got me thinking that this is only the start.”
“You say that now but wait till we argue about whose turn it is to wash the dishes.”
“I can’t wait,” Steven retorts, his purrs growing louder by the second. He sticks his tongue out at Andrew and laughs as he’s pulled into a hug, which he returns wholeheartedly with his arms around Andrew’s neck.
‘Neither can I.’
+1 Felines have scent glands on their cheeks and when they rub against something, they put their own personal scent on that object. This leaves the message for other cats that they've been there and laid claim.
Andrew is already awake by the time the rays of sunshine that have snuck into their bedroom are intense enough to turn the cozy heat of the bed into a sweltering mess. He’s tempted to just kick the sheets aside and catch a few extra minutes, but he already promised to wake Steven up early.
“Hey,” he says, voice thick with sleep. Steven turns to face the other way, tail twitching irritably under the blankets. “Steven, come on. You asked for this. I know you’re awake.”
After hearing nothing but an insistent grunt, Andrew sighs, “Don’t make me get the water.”
Steven turns to him, eyes narrowed and still half hidden under cotton sheets. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
But the thing is, Andrew would. And he does.
Half an hour later, Steven is half sulking over his tea in the kitchen. He watches Andrew mix up a concoction in his steel tumbler and grimaces at the loud clatter that the shaker makes.
Andrew’s dressed in some gym shorts and a full sleeve dri-fit shirt that hugs his arms almost sinfully, and Steven is glad he has the steam from his drink to blame for all the bullets of sweat he’s producing. He’s still half asleep and sheepishly holds Andrew’s gaze when he catches him ogling, and he swears that Andrew flexes, just a little.
“Is that really necessary, Drew?”
Andrew shrugs. “I like to believe it is. I’d hate to think Ryan talked me into buying all this shit for nothing.”
“I’m not talking about your protein shake,” Steven mutters around the lip of his mug. Andrew shoots him a confused look - God, does he really not know? He has to be pretending - and Steven sighs and says instead, “Don’t forget to stop for groceries.”
“I won’t,” Andrew says, stepping into Steven’s space to kiss him goodbye. He stays close when they pull away and lifts his chin obediently to give Steven more space to work. Scenting is something that Andrew has learnt helps Steven feel more at ease, and lately he’s been encouraging him to do it whenever he can even though Andrew, and the rest of the non-hybrid population, can’t pick up on the scents.
Steven nuzzles his face against Andrew’s neck happily, completely unbothered by the prickles he feels against his cheeks. He starts to purr loudly when he pictures Andrew crossing another hybrid on the way to the gym, because they’ll be able to smell him before they even see him - and they’ll know that he’s taken. Steven has never considered himself the possessive type, and wonders if that’s only because he’s never had someone he’s never wanted to lose so badly.
He lets Andrew go after one last nuzzle, the tops of his cheeks tingling with the lightest touch of beard burn. “I’ll see you later,” he says.
“Bye, love,” Andrew says and is out of the apartment under a minute, leaving Steven in complete silence after he hears Andrew’s keys slip out of the doorknob.
Steven tries not to think about how lonely the apartment seems when he’s alone in it. He’s tried to tag along with Andrew before, but the gym just didn’t seem to be right for him. As a result, they have the sore sight of a huge treadmill in the corner of their living room, but Andrew insists it’s never bothered him. He swallows down his tea and sandwich before he can make himself feel bad about it, and retreats back to the bedroom.
There’s a slight throbbing in his temples, reminding him of his lack of sleep, but Steven wiggles down in front of his study table anyway. He’s a little irked, not at Andrew, but at himself for thinking that that ‘just one more episode’ momentum he had going last night wasn’t going to bite him in the ass.
‘But,’ he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, ‘if I had time for that, I definitely have time for this.’
Steven plucks up his Bible, a handful of highlighters and some sticky notes. He knows he’s better off parking himself into his workspace, but the rays of sunshine warming up the sheets just look so inviting - the little feline voice in him wanting to desperately stretch out and toast up under it - so he dives onto the bed as carefully as he can with his stationery in hand.
He’s transfixed by the way his pastel highlighters look against the soft cotton, and only after taking a quick photo does he thumb open his Bible, easily finding his last session that’s been carefully bookmarked.
Steven’s fingers glide easily across the scritta paper, the silk-like texture giving him great comfort. The corner of a sticky note interrupts the skimming of his hand, “therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble,” it reads. Tracing his own handwriting, Steven smiles to himself and then closes his eyes to start his prayer.
Steven quickly loses himself in reading the Scripture, pausing only to scribble his notes onto the corners, uncap his highlighters with his teeth and haphazardly stick new notes on the corners. By the time Steven’s wrist begins to cramp because of his position, the pages are overflowing with pink, purple and blue highlights and his best attempts at calligraphy. ‘Remember this!’ he’s written next to paragraphs that have been bracketed together, while drawing arrows for other verses to connect them with their respective sticky note.
He thinks he must’ve been more tired than he even realized, because one minute he’s underlining and scribbling asterisks, and the next he’s on his back and slowly blinking up at his bedroom ceiling, pulling himself out of slumber. A blurry mass moves across the room and Steven jumps the tiniest bit before he realizes it’s Andrew, smelling strongly of soap and fruity conditioner, and underneath all of that, the scent that Steven marked him with earlier.
“Hi,” Steven squeaks out, feeling a little embarrassed at his mess. “I finished my devotions and was just...resting my eyes.”
He watches Andrew hang his damp towel up from his place on the bed, content to stay nestled in it, even after Andrew switches the air conditioning on and a gust of cold air blows right onto him. In fact, Steven enjoys it, basking in the sharp cold that makes goosebumps scatter across his skin. He often wonders if he prefers the cold over basking in the sun, like a true anomaly.
“You were knocked out for like an hour,” Andrew teases as he perches himself on the edge of the bed. Steven stretches to grab his wrist, the loose fitting fabric of his shirt sliding to reveal his belly. Andrew’s eyes follow the movement, intrigued by the flash of pale skin. His attention only skitters away when he feels Steven’s fingers brush against the back of his hand, and then skirt up to tighten at his wrist.
There’s a muddy mix of ink and highlighter fluid on the breadths of Steven’s left palm, something that he frequently whines about (“The struggles of being left-handed!”) and something that Andrew has repeatedly voiced that he finds adorable (“It’s like you’re a little kid.”)
Andrew allows himself to be pulled downwards, towards Steven and the uncomfortable jabs of various stationery. A few pens clatter to the ground when Steven’s tail flickers back and forth excitedly, clearing space for Andrew to settle in and snuggle against him.
“Did you enjoy your little cat nap?”
Steven knows that Andrew is only teasing, so he nods, and even begins to purr when Andrew is close enough to wrap himself around. “Didn’t mean to take one, but I feel much better. Waking up early is hard.”
Under the comfortable, familiar weight of Steven, Andrew can only let out a tiny laugh. Steven has his leg swung across Andrew’s hips, half lying on him, and from what Andrew can deduce from the lack of movement and short responses, is halfway asleep again already.
He presses a kiss to Steven’s hair, and watches as his ears twitch and flicker in delight at the affection, and then squeeze down flat when Andrew playfully blows into them. “I thought you were going to help me with lunch today.”
“Mhm,” Steven mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Andrew’s neck, subtly remarking his scent. “Just five minutes, please.”
“Okay,” Andrew agrees with no fight. He’s warm from the shower and his muscles are pleasantly sore, Steven’s purring a soft lull. “Just five minutes.”
(They don’t wake up until late in the afternoon, still wrapped up in each other.)