"Sehun.

"Sehun?

"Sehun."

What?!" It's just after ten, Sehun's nearly done with homework he should have done right away on Friday. He worked weekends. Monday has an early morning class. He was a bit thrown off by his kitten turning into a fully grown man, though, so he thinks his procrastination is acceptable. He just wants to shower and pass out after finishing this problem.

He should set an alarm before anything else, though; he will forget the moment he sees his bed. Good plan.

He reels in his annoyance and fishes his phone from between the couch cushions. "I'm almost done. What is it?"

Tao looks somewhat sheepish, elbows on the back of the sofa and looking at Sehun's chin rather than his eyes and picking at the hem of his sleeve. “Would you shower with me?”

That draws Sehun's attention from his book. The human-cat's adjusted pretty well to being a strict biped, but if Sehun's learned anything about cats, it's that they have an innate sense of I own the world, no matter what happens, or what I do, which translates to infuriating confidence. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’ve never used it myself, it’s scary alone, and if you don’t, I’ll flood the bathroom.”

Fair enough, although Sehun's not sure if that tail end was a threat or inevitable consequence. Sehun can't afford to pay for any damages, and plumbing always costs an arm and a leg. He tosses his textbook aside and hauls himself to his feet, ignoring the open delight on Tao's face when Sehun immediately complies.

That innate sense at work.

It will take Sehun a bit longer than a couple of days to get used to Tao's human shamelessness, however. He's almost impressed by how fast the human-cat strips . Almost. He's seen faster, but he can't remember exactly who, when, or why.

Sehun pulls the shower handle up, showing Tao the red and blue indicators for hot and cold water and how to adjust the handle to accomodate. He turns around to take his clothes off, dumping his and Tao's into an almost overflowing laundry basket. He'd have to take care of that soon.

Tao's watching the water uncertainly. As a cat-cat, he'd sit on the toilet tank or sink and yowl at Sehun until he got out. Sehun learned that he could just leave the curtain open; Tao just wanted to be able to see him.

His friends assured him it was normal cat behaviour. Some were clingier than others. Peaches—Tao—was and is 'clingier than others.'

So much so that he waits until Sehun is in the shower and soaked and notices the human-cat's hesitation. "C'mon." He offers his hand. "You have to be in the water for it to work."

There's a moment of overlapping reality as he watches the uncertainty, hesitation, dislike, resolve, and steeling nerves pass over Tao's face. Peaches would have the same look as he gauged a jump or sniffed at whatever cat food Sehun had bought, ears standing straight up and tilting like mini satellite dishes.

Finally, when Sehun's hand is cooled and kind of shivering, Tao ignores it and steps over the edge of the tub. Clingy, but still very much an entitled cat.

“How the hell are you so ripped?” Sehun pours a small amount of shampoo into his palm and lathers Tao’s hair. The human-cat’s face screws up as soap runs down his face.

“What do you think I did by myself while you were gone?”

“Eat, sleep, poop, repeat.” Sehun wipes falling shampoo suds from Tao's face with his thumbs. "Jesus, did you benchpress the sofa or something? You could probably benchpress me." He mumbles to himself among mumbled instructions for the human-cat to 'hold still,' 'close your eyes,' and 'stop squirming.'

“I got bored and restless without someone to play with. I'd just run around the entire apartment. Chase mice. Climb curtains. Chew your shirts." Tao shakes his head, but the uncomfortable wet remained. He squints at Sehun. "Which reminds me, we need to move.”

“Ah ha! No. If you want a bigger place, get it yourself." Sehun pushes the human-cat's bangs from his face and says, "You're done. Move over or get out.”

“How?” Tao shuffles to press himself to the wall opposite the showerhead, so the water only bounces off his legs.

“Step over the tub."

"How do I get a bigger place for us?" For us. Sehun's guts twist a little, squeezing the puking butterflies in his stomach. "Get a job.”

Tao drips all over the floor as he steps over the tub and grabs a towel. He rubs his skin until it's all dry, then he grabs another towel just for his hair. “You do realise that I’ve never even left this apartment since you brought me home.”

Sehun frowns. It's true, and it's sad when sad out loud. He didn't think a cat was the sort of thing to take on walks or on the train, though. Tao probably would have enjoyed it.

“... We’ll change that tomorrow. You can come to class with me.” He shampoos his own hair and tilts his head back to rinse it away from his face. “Some rules, though: Do as I say, not as I do.” Finishing their shower and Sehun’s list of dos and don’ts, Tao flinches at the whack to his arm for taking all the towels and shies away from the blow dryer until Sehun corners him and tosses a clean shirt and sweatpants for him to wear.

Tao discovers the blow dryer isn't so bad; he can ignore the noise in favour of the wonderful heat blasted through his hair.

They tumble into bed. Tao's clingier when sleepy and curves around Sehun’s back, buries his face in Sehun’s damp hair, and falls asleep within minutes.

Sehun lies awake longer, unaccustomed to the cramped bed. It's not a bad cramped, although he feels uncomfortable without something over him—Tao's arm doesn't count—and carefully contorts himself to grab the rumbled sheet at the foot of the bed.

When shifting and sighing doesn’t wake the human-cat, Sehun relaxes and forces his brain to focus on the darkest spots behind his eyelids, until he falls asleep.

a.n.: This is longer than what should be here, but too bad. It fits with the others. It's still relatively short and doesn't quite stand alone. It does, but it doesn't. I'll probably reorganise these at some point. I dunno. Welcome back, Sehun and PeachesTao.