Mom laughed. “All right. I wanted to ask if you had dinner plans? I made a huge batch of potato salad for your dad’s lunches, so if I put together something else, would you like me to drop some off for you?”
Emil smiled, then startled at the realization the food wasn’t making him anxious. “Yeah, any decent protein, and we’ll be good. You don’t have to, of course, we have food here….”
“Nonsense. I’ll have to make something anyway for Dad and me, so might as well cook for you too. You’ve already worked enough today.” She hummed thoughtfully. “I have some chicken breast, if that’s good? Would be done quickly so you don’t have to wait.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me. I’ll make a regular salad here, and if you bring the chicken and the potato salad, then we’re all set!”
“Great! I can’t wait to see the kittens!” Mom enthused. “I’ll take my allergy medicine right now, then start cooking. I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“All right, Mom, see you then. Bye!” Emil put the phone away and looked at Makai. “She said an hour.”
“Okay, well if you want to take a shower and change, you have time for that. Also, there’s yellow in your hair.” He grinned and pointed at a splash of paint on the side of Emil’s head.
“Great. You’ll have to get it out for me. I can’t really see it.”
“Sure. Once you’ve showered, I’ll comb your hair, get it all out.”
For some reason, Emil blushed at the idea. “Thanks.”
Makai rinsed his arms and patted them dry with the hand towel that was already damp from Emil’s attempts at drying himself. He tossed the towel into the laundry basket and looked at Emil. “You can put your clothes into the hamper and I’ll wash them with my own.”
Emil nodded, and Makai stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door. Emil took his shirt off and threw it on top of the dirty towel, then shimmied out of the rest of his clothes.
“I’ll put your bag on the bed, take the kittens to the front room, and close the bedroom door so you can change in peace,” Makai said through the door.
“Okay, thanks!” Emil called back, before turning on the shower.
He knew he needed to be quick, so he took Makai’s coarse sponge thing to his legs to get most of the paint off. At least it did come off with just water and scrubbing. He could envision a bath in something nasty otherwise.
He washed his hair thoroughly, knowing that it would help just a little. The conditioner Makai had made his hair feel nice, but it also made his curls more bouncy than usual. His mom would find it hilarious, no doubt. He could take the teasing, because he was sure the conditioner would make it easier for Makai to get the paint off his hair.
Once he was done, he got out of the shower, dried off—carefully squeezing his hair with the towel instead of rubbing it dry, he knew better—and then got dressed in underwear, sweats, and a T-shirt. The bedroom door was closed as promised, and Emil opened it, leaving the cardboard cat-fence in place.
As soon as he stepped over it, though, the kitten closest to the bedroom ran to him on unsteady feet and meowed loudly.
“Hey, buddy,” Emil cooed at the darker orange boy. “How’s it going?”
He would’ve scooped the kitten up, but the meow brought the tortoiseshell kitten, a girl, running.
“We need to give them placeholder names, Makai,” Emil called to the kitchen where he could hear Makai puttering around.
“Any thoughts?” Makai asked; then Emil could hear him grumbling at a kitten to stop trying to trip him.
“Not really, no.”
“How about we both name two?” Makai peered around the little corner, the only stretch of wall the kitchen had that the previous owners had left standing for whatever reason.
“Works for me.” Emil dodged the kittens as he went past Makai into the kitchen. “I’ll start the sal—oh.” Makai had made half of the prep already.
“You do the rest, I’ll go shower,” Makai said, and without thinking, leaned in to kiss Emil’s temple.
They both froze. And then relaxed, chuckled awkwardly, and Makai went to shower.
The casual way Makai had touched him was nice. Easy.Safe.Despite the conditioned way they both had tensed, nothing in Emil’s body or psyche had actually gotten alarmed. It had felt… natural.
He was taking the seeds out of some tomatoes—because who wants those in their salad—when tiny pinpricks started to travel up his leg.
“Oh, ouch, Mouse! Your kid is misbehaving!” he called out and carefully extracted the gray kitten from his pants leg. “No, little girl. You’re going to make someone chop their finger off one day,” he told her and carefully went to place her on the couch where her siblings were wrestling.
