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Jon sat on his couch, feet planted firmly against the hard-wood floor. His fingers danced in his lap, figiting with themselves so aggressively it was almost as if they had a mind of their own. He was so pre-occupied that he didn't even seem to notice the door that had appeared on the wall right in front of him. The only thing that managed to snap him out of his trance was the click of the door opening, and the slow creak of its hinges. He quickly snapped his head up, looking around for a moment before, finally, focusing his eyes forwards.
Out of the door stepped Michael, who had to crane his neck to even exit properly. Still, even with his inhibited movement, he walked out gracefully. If you hadn't been looking at his feet, you might've even thought he was gliding (who knows, maybe he was). Michael's form twisted and morphed as he moved forwards towards Jon, but finally settled in a (mostly) humanoid form as he stopped about 2 feet away.
Jon looked up, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck. Michael smiled down at him, his eyes softer than usual. He took a step forward and leaned down, cupping Jon's jaw lightly in his oddly-proportioned hand and giving him a light peck on the cheek. The spot where his lips had touched began to feel numb and staticy, just as it always did. Jon did not know if this was an intended effect, or not, but he never cared to ask.
Jon gave a light, nervous chuckle as Michael pulled away. “Do you always greet people like that?” Jon smirked upwards at him as he stood back up. “Only people I find interesting, Archivist.” Michael let out a breathy laugh as he spoke. Jon had been completely caught off guard the first time Michael had kissed him, but it'd now become something he did every time they met. The two sat in an awkward silence, both parties completely oblivious to the mutual attraction between them.
Michael broke the silence finally, “Is there any reason in particular you invited me over? I'm a very busy man, you know.” He crossed his arms playfully, clearly not minding the occasion. Jon blinked rapidly, clearly coming back to reality after having zoned out. He cleared his throat, “Oh, yes. Just, have a seat on the floor right there.” He nodded his head at a spot on the floor a few feet away. “I've got something for you.”
Michael made his way over to the spot and sat down, crossing his too-long legs in a manner that was oddly smooth. “A gift? For me? Archivist, you shouldn't have!” A bright pink blush began to spread across his cheeks as Jon left for another room. After a few moments, Jon returned. He moved in front of Michael and sat down.
In Jon's hands was what looked to be an old shoe box. Michael could hear shuffling from inside the box and tilted his head slightly, wondering what could be inside. Jon lifted the lid off the box and reached his hands inside. “I remember you talking about how much you liked cats, so.” He pulled his hands out of the box and gently sat a little Calico kitten down on the hardwood floor.
Michael gasped softly and whispered, “Oh Archivist..” He held out his hands, which were less sharp than usual, towards the kitten that was now walking to him. Jon cleared his throat again, “I uh, I found him on the street. He started following me home from work. I noticed he was a boy, which isn't typical of Calicos, and.. it reminded me of you.” Jon's face was now bright red and, try as he might, he could not maintain eye contact. Michael was now holding the kitten, clutching him close to his chest and lightly rubbing the top of its head.
Michael's voice was soft and slower than usual. “Oh Archivist, I.. I don't even know what to say. I love him.” Jon opened his mouth, almost letting his thoughts slip out, And I love you. He managed to stop himself, though. Instead, he cleared his throat once more and spoke quickly, “So, what are you going to name him?” Michael looked up at him and laughed, “Well I don't know, silly. I just got the thing!”
The two sat there for a while, sometimes chatting, but mostly just watching the kitten toddle about. Every once in a while, Michael would gaze over at Jon while he wasn't looking, taking in the details of his face and smiling to himself. Jon would do the same to Michael, taking in his strange form. His eyes that never stayed the same color, his skin that was a bit too pale, his golden hair that was constantly moving like gentle waves lapping against a shore.
Jon was enamored by him. He noticed Michael's hand sitting on the floor, he was about to move to hold his hand, but decided against it. After all, why would Michael like someone like him?