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Mike pulls into the gas station near his house late one evening after work.
He debates with himself for a bit as he fuels his tank, but ultimately decides it's been too long since his last little check-in, and heads inside to grab a few things.
A few cans of cat food. A bottle of water. His eyes wander over to a pack of cigs in the checkout line, but manages to resist the temptation. If he smoked Abby would definitely smell it on him, and he wouldn't hear the end of it for a while.
After paying, he rounds the corner into a back alley. Sure enough, there's a couple stays in view. A colony of cats lives on the edge of the woods nearby, and some of the braver ones wander up to poke around the dumpsters.
They scatter as he approaches, kneeling near the wall and cracking open the first can of food. He wishes he could do more, Mike had always loved animals. Abby would absolutely adore a pet, but the truth was Mike just couldn't afford it.
A few fifty cent cans of cat food were one thing, but vet bills and vaccines were another completely. Oh well. For now, he'd just do what he could.
Mike could feel eyes on him as he set the third can of food down near the others, but avoided turning and looking so as not to scare them again.
Finally, he poured the bottle of water into the old, empty cans of cat food from last time, using them as makeshift water bowls. Mike noted there were a few cans beyond what he himself had bought, and it made him feel a little better to know he wasn't the only one taking care of the animals.
As he stood up to leave, movement in his peripheral caught his attention.
A figure stood backlit against the woods-side entrance to the alley, somehow not spooking away the feral cats. Mike found it odd, they always ran when he got close.
"Oh, hey, I'm just, uh... setting out some food." Mike doesn't know why he feels so embarrassed to admit it, but it's strange to finally say out loud. This wasn't a part of himself he shared with anyone. Jeremiah would probably tease him, and Abby would beg him to take one home.
The figure doesn't respond, frozen in place. Mike frowns, finally raising his gaze to the other man's face. It's then that recognition hits. Michael Afton.
Mike actually growls, hesitating for only a split second before lunging forwards. Michael looks like he's actually frozen in shock, and Mike isn't sure why. Surely he wouldn't think Mike would take kindly to seeing him again after their last encounter?
Michael takes off with a cry, turning and running back towards the woods. He's fast, with his longer legs and clearly adrenaline-fueled sprint.
Unfortunately for Michael, he isn't graceful. He trips, falling face-first in the grass with a huff and spilling the contents of whatever bag he was holding into the grass nearby.
"Wait! WAIT!" Michael cries out, raising his arms above his head as Mike slams into him on the ground. He's thrown into a coughing fit, writhing underneath Mike.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mike sneers, grabbing Michael firmly by the collar, not believing his show of innocence. Why else would he come to Mike, if not to stir up trouble?
"I'm-" Michel wheezes, and whether it's from the short run or the fall, Mike isn't sure. Either way, it's pathetic. "...feeding the cats," he finishes, and Mike makes a face that says he clearly doesn't buy it.
"No, that's what I’m here for. What are you doing here, Afton?" Mike tightens his grip on Michael's collar, raising a threating fist.
Michael flinches back. "I'm not lying! Check my bag! It's all cat food." Afton flails, hands going to the one holding his collar, trying to pry Mike off.
Mike hesitates for a moment, taken aback. It could be a trick. But the man below him looks oddly sincere, and utterly terrified.
He glances over his shoulder at the bag Michael had dropped, and sure enough, a few cans of cat food were scattered around it. In fact, it looked like Michael had brought more than Mike.
"Oh." Mike finally relents, freeing Michael and falling back on his ass, breathing heavy. The encounter had sent his adrenaline through the roof, and his hands were still shaking despite the de-escalation.
Michael seemed to share that sentiment, sitting up and straightening his collar with a glare. He tried to remain composed, but Mike could tell he roughed him up a bit.
"Sorry," Mike finally breaks the silence, giving Michael a lamely apologetic look. "I didn't know."
"It's fine," Michael mumbles, stumbling to his feet. "No good deed goes unpunished, after all."
Mike feels a pang of regret in his chest, and he's not entirely sure why. Truthfully, Michael deserved to be tackled to the ground, and far more. He'd tried to kill Mike and Abby, not to mention half the town. An almost comical level of villainy, the kind Mike had only ever seen in movies.
But seeing him now, scrambling to pick up cans of food that were apparently for the same stray cats Mike cared for, Mike was forced to see the humanity in the other ma
"Let me help." Mike crawls over, searching through the overgrown grass on hands and knees for the scattered cans of cat food and packets of gravy. It seemed Michael had gone all out. It made his own meager offering pale in comparison.
They reached for a single can at the same time, Mike's hand landing on top of Michael's. He snatched it away like it physically hurt him, and Michael snorted above him.
"You can go now, Schmidt," he says dismissively, turning and treading back off towards the alley.
Mike knew he should. Go home. Leave Michael to his business.
But something about this whole situation, or maybe just the other man, drew him in. It was strange, thinking of Michael doing something so utterly normal as feeding stray cats. He brushed himself off and followed behind Michael, trotting along until he was caught up.
Surprisingly, Michael throws an arm out, stopping him.
"Shh," he scolds, squandering Mike's protest before it leaves his lips. "Look."
Mike's attention turns back to the alley, and there's already half a dozen or so cats sharking around. The ones drawn to Michael had dispersed at Mike's outburst, but hungry cats couldn't hold off for long when faced with the smell of wet food.
He recognized most of them, a big orange tomcat and a calico with a drooping (probably pregnant) belly being the first to take the bait. More paced around, waiting their turn. A couple younger black cats lapped at the water.
"Slow," he directs, taking small, even steps forward into the alley. Mike follows him, noting with more than a small amount of jealousy that a couple of the cats rub up against Michael's legs as he rustles through his bag. None of them had ever gotten that close to him.
Michael coos something too quiet for Mike to hear from his position. He opens can after can, spreading them out against the opposite wall from Mike's offering. A few of the cans of cat food get topped with gravy. Lastly, he sets out an aluminum tray, filling it with water.
When he's satisfied with the layout, he makes his way down the alley and sits a few paces away from the food, beckoning Mike over.
Mike hesitates for a moment, then decides he really has nothing to lose and takes a seat beside Michael, his back against the brick wall. He shivers for a moment on the cold concrete, and scoots a little closer to Michael without thinking.
If Michael notices, he doesn't say anything. He sits in silence, legs crossed with his hands in his lap. Mike shifts to copy him.
They watch in silence for a few minutes as the strays devour the feast. Mike counts a dozen, no, a dozen adults and an amorphous blob of black kittens he couldn't possibly hope to count. More are likely to come later, to pick at whatever scraps are left behind. Hopefully just more cats and not racoons. Mike hated racoons.
"I noticed someone else was feeding them," Mike whispers, breaking the silence. "Just didn't think it was you."
Michael shushes him, eyes fixed on something. Mike follows his gaze to an orange tabby slowly making its way over. It's almost within arm’s reach, but pauses at Mike's sudden movement. He stretches out a hand slowly, trying to calm it, but the gesture sends it scampering off.
Michael sighs. "You have to be patient. Let them come to you."
Another couple minutes go by, and the number of cats swarming the food starts to dwindle. Once fed, some go back off towards the woods, but a couple linger near the two men. A solid grey cat with a large fluffy tail approaches Mike, and this time he manages to keep his hands in his lap.
The cat passes him, making it's way to Michael. Mike watches with more than a hint of jealousy as the cat curiously rubs against Michael's knee.
Michael stays still a while longer, until finally he holds out a fist. The cat bumps its head against it, and Michael finally takes the opportunity to pet it.
"Most of them are feral," Michael explains quietly, voice barely above a whisper so as to not spook the cat, "but some were most likely dumped here. Abandoned, for one reason or another."
"Why would anyone do that?" Mike's face turns sour at the idea of abandoning an animal. Especially one that was already accustomed to being a pet.
"People can be so cruel." Michael looks lost in thought as he continues to stroke the grey cat from head to tail. Mike catches a hint of bitterness in his tone.
Who abandoned you, Michael Afton?
Mike knows better than to ask. Instead, he changes the subject.
"Wish I had a smoke."
Michael pauses, seeming to consider for a moment before finally reaching into his coat pocket. "Only one left."
Mike's fingers twitch in his lap as Michael presses the cigarette to his own lips. He should of known this bastard would smoke right next to him just to spite him. He tilts his head back against the brick with a sigh, closing his eyes.
He hears the faint click of a lighter next to him, and is hit with the distinct smell of tobacco. He should probably move away, Abby wouldn't be happy to smell it on him.
Michael huffs, and Mike feels the warm smoke curl against his cheek. "Your turn."
Mike opens his eyes with a start as the cigarette presses against his lips. Michael is uncomfortably close to his face, holding the cigarette to his mouth. Mike just blinks for a moment, dumbfounded.
"Need me to breathe for you too, Schmidt?"
That shakes Mike out of his stupor, and he graciously accepts the cig, swatting Michael's hand away. He can't help but notice how close they are now, shoulder to shoulder against the wall of the alley. Mike can feel the heat radiating off of Michael as the warm smoke fills his lungs.
His head feels fuzzy. His brain feels fuzzy. He wants to sink closer to Michael, seek solace from the chill night air. He stops himself, taking one last drag from the cigarette before passing it back over. "Thanks."
Michael doesn't take it with his hand, still occupied petting the grey cat, who is now settled in his lap. Instead he parts his lips, prompting Mike to place it right in his mouth. Mike does so, shaking slightly, feeling nervous for reasons he can't quite explain.
He shouldn't be here, in this dingy alleyway with a man who tried to kill him only a couple months ago. But here, in the dim moonlight, Mike doesn't see the crazed monster that terrorized his family all those weeks ago. Michael looks human.
Mike finds himself laughing softly at the absurdity of his situation, and Michael blows a lungful of smoke in his face with a huff. "What's so funny, hm?"
"Nothing," Mike lies, turning away before the other man can see the blush that's likely creeping up his neck. Mike can feel heat in his face, and though he wants to blame the warmth on the cigarette, he knows he's just… well, maybe this isn't so bad after all. Maybe Michael isn't so bad after all.
"Mnnh," Michael hums around the cig, "guess the rest of this is mine."
"Bastard." Mike grumbles, but the words have no real bite. He makes a half-hearted grab for the cigarette, but Michael worms out of the way.
He considers pinning him down and taking it for a moment but he isn't that desperate for a smoke, and doesn't want to scare the cat.
Oh, right. The cat.
Mike stares down at Michael's lap, at the creature contentedly curled up there. He raises a hand and looks to Michael for permission, who nods.
Shockingly, the cat allows Mike to pet it. He does so gingerly, not daring to touch anywhere but the very top of it's head.
"Isn't that sweet. She likes you." Michael looks at Mike with something Mike might dare to call fondness under different circumstances.
"She?"
"Ah, yes, she has sat with me before. I think she must have been abandoned or lost around here. A lot more friendly than the others."
Michael continues, pointing to the few stragglers still sharking around the area. "That calico will let you pet her if you have food. And the black cats might, too. I wouldn't touch the one with the bobtail."
Mike takes in his words, surprised at how intimately Michael seems to know the strays. He must be feeding them a lot more often than himself.
"Here," Michael digs in his bag for a moment, pulling out one of the gravy tubes Mike had seen earlier. "Hold it out. They should smell it."
Mike doubted they'd still be hungry enough to care after all the food Michael had left them, but he does as instructed. It takes a minute, but the calico is the first to take the bait. Not the pregnant one from before, this one is mostly white with patches of grey and a smattering of orange across her back.
She makes her way over cautiously, Mike trying to stay as still and silent as possible. He looks to Michael for guidance, but the other man just gives him a nod.
Finally, she begins to eat. Mike watches in fascination, squeezing more goop from the tube as she licks it up greedily, pink tongue making quick work of the treat.
"Pull it back a little," Michael whispers, and Mike shudders at the warm breath on his neck. Michael is resting his chin on Mike's shoulder now, and Mike hates the way it sends his heart racing.
Still, he does as he’s told, pulling the treat in some and leading the cat closer. Michael hums approvingly.
The cat doesn't seem to mind being near Mike now, and nearing the end of the treat, he takes the chance to pet its head with his free hand. The cat pulls away for a moment, then goes right back to licking at the treat. Once it's gone and Mike takes away the empty tube, the cat scurries off.
"Aw. Too bad." Michael pulls off of Mike's shoulder with a sigh, and Mike finds himself mourning the loss of his warmth.
Mike just stares at the other man, at a loss for words. It still feels surreal to be here with him. To enjoy being here with him.
Icy blue eyes stare back, unabashed. Crazy eyes, as Jeremiah would put it. Mike's lips twitch at that though, barely suppressing a smile. Oh, what Jeremiah would say if he saw him now, practically nose-to-nose with the Afton.
Michael raised an eyebrow at Mike's expression, taking another draw of what’s left of the cigarette. "Stop looking at me like that. It's unsettling."
Mike caught himself, turning and covering his embarrassment with a cough.
Change the subject again. "Do you have a cat at home?"
Michael sighs, shaking his head with remorse. "Not sure I could take care of one."
Mike wonders what he means by that, but decides not to press. Looking at Michael, he feels that all-consuming urge to fix fix fix, the same feeling he got with Vanessa. The one that eventually pushed her away.
He takes a deep breath. "She seems to think otherwise." Mike pets at the grey cat, who is now softly purring in Michael's lap, head sunk against his leg.
"Yeah," Michael looks down with a reverence at the animal, like he can't believe it would choose to stay with him. Mike can't believe he himself is choosing to stay with Michael, but he does.
They sit there for a long time, silently alternating between petting the cat and stealing glances at one another. Mike feels like he should say something more, but can't put his feelings into words.
Eventually, a car pulls into the gas station with an especially loud engine, and it startles the cat into standing. It stretches and walks off, and Mike is sad to see it go.
Michael, on the other hand, looks relieved. He takes the opportunity to stretch his own legs, groaning and shaking off the sleep that had probably settled into them from being stuck in that position for so long.
It was time to go. With no more excuses to sit in this alley any longer, he rises, exchanging an awkward goodbye with Michael.
As he made his way to the car, he couldn't help but hope this wouldn't be his last encounter with Michael Afton.