Jon & Cats
Saturday mornings are Martin’s favorite time of the week.
It hasn’t always been that way; in the past, he’d actually been impatient with weekends, eager to arrive at work and check in on his coworkers (well, one in particular). There was a period of time when he’d had no favorite time of the week, or any real feelings about anything at all, but he doesn’t like to think about that time. Now, though, he can understand that hackneyed phrase, “thank god it’s Friday.” Couldn’t be caught dead uttering that phrase out loud, though, at least not without some sarcasm. Jon wouldn’t let him live it down.
Today, the Saturday morning atmosphere is so pleasant that he actually hums a little bit over his maple oatmeal. It’s a normal morning, and that’s what he loves about it. He never fully appreciated the charm of a normal routine until he had to live without it… and, god, it had taken so much work to get this average lifestyle back. He was determined to savor every moment.
He scrolls through Instagram on his phone as he eats. There’s a lot to see today, as there always is during the weekend. Basira’s having breakfast with her family, the french toast in her photo looks fantastic. He tells her so in the comments. Directly underneath is a gym photo from Tim, which he very pointedly ignores.
He quickly scrolls by a suspiciously appropriate advert for a set of mugs with poetry printed on them, and then a familiar fluffy grey cat pops up. The Admiral. He’s looking adorable as always, twisted luxuriously in bed with a blissful look on his sleeping face. Georgie’s captioned it, “he won’t let me leave bed (but I’m okay with that).” Martin goes to like it, and notices with a smile that Jon has, of course, already done so.
With perfect timing, the man himself enters the room right at that moment. Jon’s fresh out of the shower, already dressed in a grey t-shirt and black fitted jeans even though they just rolled out of bed not 30 minutes ago. He never lounges, even on Saturday mornings. Always hurrying about as if he has serious business to attend to.
Before Martin’s done eyeing his fitted jeans appreciatively, Jon’s already crossed the room with purpose and laid a deep kiss on his lips. Martin chokes with surprise and gently pushes him off, swallowing his mouthful of oatmeal and laughing. “Well, aren’t you lovely today! Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
Jon hums and plucks uselessly at Martin’s bedhead. “It’ll be a good day today.”
“Really? Do you Know that?”
He scoffs. “I was never able to see the future, Martin, and I hardly ever Know things anymore.” His tone is characteristically brusque, but his fingers are still busying themselves with Martin’s cowlicks. Martin knows better than to trust that cold tone, anyways. Jon huffs a short breath and sits, giving up on the hair situation.
“So, why the… lovey-ness?” Jon wrinkles his nose slightly at the made up word, which sparks the usual burst of tenderness in Martin.
“I, well, I just, you know! I just like you.”
Martin raises an eyebrow, trying his best at a shrewd look. The effect isn’t nearly as effective as he’s going for, and Jon’s lips quirk upwards even in his indignance. “What?”
“I know that tone, Jon, I can tell when you’re trying to wheedle something out of me. What is it?” Jon distractedly reaches forward to brush at his bangs again, but Martin dodges his hand and he only looks hurt for a split second before he rolls his eyes.
“Fine, alright, you got me. Can we get a cat?”
There’s a long moment of silence, in which they stare at each other. Jon self consciously adjusts his sleeve. “I had this planned out a lot better in my head, but I mean, you’re a real pain when you’re being clever. You know that?”
“Yes.”
Jon blinks. “Yes, you know that? Or yes to the -- to getting a cat?”
“Both!” Martin laughs again, “Of course, let’s get a cat! We can go to the shelter today. Is this because Georgie posted that pic of the Admiral and you were feeling envious?”
He’s hit right on the mark. He can read his partner like a book, at this point. Jon flushes. “Alright, yes, I’ll grant you that. I have to reiterate, a real pain in the ass.”
Martin grins cheekily. “Yes, yes, I know. How about this: you can get a cat, and I’ll get a tarantula.”
The color drains out of Jon’s face in an instant, and his eyes widen in a look of abject horror. It would be funny, if it wasn’t absolutely heartbreaking to look at. Martin’s stomach does a funny whoosh of guilt, and he waves his hands fretfully. “Jon, oh my god, joking! I’m just joking, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Jon visibly relaxes, but he’s sullen. “I think I’ve had quite enough of your teasing, today.”
Martin takes his hand and kisses it apologetically. “Sorry, sorry, that was cruel. I didn’t think you’d believe me.” Jon’s expression softens, and he leans forward for one more peck on the lips. Before he can move away, Martin continues, “but you have to eat breakfast today, I made enough oatmeal for both of us. Have it with raspberries.”
Jon mutters something about how he hates eating in the morning, but he goes to the pot anyways. Martin swivels to make sure he does as he’s told, stewing in his fondness.
Of course Jon wants a cat. Hell, he’s basically a human cat himself, and Martin has seen the way he fawns over the Admiral. Plus, it’ll be good for Jon to have a companion while Martin’s at work all day.
---
About an hour later, Martin is showered and dressed, and joins Jon, who is impatiently fidgeting by the car. The man is so annoying, he’d already walked out while Martin was brushing his teeth. Good thing Martin is so charmed by him and understood it as excitement rather than intentional rudeness, because anyone else would’ve had their patience tested.
Jon babbles about nothing of importance on the drive to the shelter. He always talks animatedly, but especially so when he’s feeling particularly energetic about something. His hands are waving around so much, he actually smacks his finger against the dashboard on accident and swears, sending Martin into a fit of giggles.
As it turns out, Martin has recently started working at the animal shelter. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have been hired, with hardly any appropriate experience for the job on his resume. But he really wanted to work there, and Jon had encouraged him. More accurately, he’d pestered him ceaselessly to apply, stubbornly refusing to listen to Martin’s waffling over his lack of qualifications. Jon always got his way. And, well, the hiring manager didn’t need to know that his previous boss, who had written him a glowing recommendation, was in fact his current boyfriend.
He couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty that his last two jobs were gained dishonestly, but Jon didn’t seem to care that much, and he did love working there. He had always loved animals of all kinds, and it felt good to actually do something nice for people for a living. It was a genuine thrill to go in to work every day and greet all the cats, dogs, rodents, and reptiles in their care. There were a couple of tarantulas as well, although he opted to keep that a secret.
Jon had not yet visited the animal shelter, so this trip has Martin feeling giddy for multiple reasons. A bit nervous as well. Stepping into the building together feels like a strange clashing of worlds, but in a good way.
The woman at the desk glances up when they walk in, and her eyes light up. “Hullo Martin! Isn’t it your day off?”
He gives her a big smile. “Yes, but I’m not here for work! Jon would like a cat.”
The woman’s gaze flicks to Jon curiously. “Is this the mysterious Jon you’ve talked so much about? Nice to meet you! I’m Hilda.” She reaches out her hand, and Jon shakes it politely. Martin is silently grateful for the fact that Jon is a common name, so no one has to know this is the same man who was his reference when he applied.
“Hello, good to meet you. I’ve heard mention of your name, as well.”
Martin’s feeling slightly bashful now, so he decides to move it along. “Er, anyways! We’d like to visit the cats, Hilda. I think I have a good idea of what we’re looking for.”
In the visiting room, they spend a good amount of time with each cat, and Jon pets every single one. Martin does his part in introducing the cats by name, but prefers to stand back and watch for the most part. He feels like he could melt, with the way Jon formally greets each one.
“This is Fritz. He loves when you scratch him on the chin, look - “
“Hello, Fritz! My name’s Jon, nice to meet you. May I scratch your chin?”
“Over here is Daisy -- I know, yeah, it’s funny!”
“Hi there, Daisy, we have a friend with the same name. Well, actually, that’s not really her name, but, never mind.”
As Jon is scratching Daisy above the tail, a tiny black cat suddenly jumps down from the climbing structure next to them, and practically screams in his face. Martin chuckles as Jon is taken aback.
“Well, hello then! I’m happy to be meeting you as well. I’m Jon.”
“That’s -- well,” Martin almost mentions her name, but trails off, noticing the look on Jon’s face. The cat purrs and headbutts her way under Jon’s elbow, crawling into his lap and battering his face with her tail. And he looks… positively infatuated. Martin feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he watches. “Well, what’s her name then, Jon?”
He turns, his eyes wide. “What?”
“I can see it in your face, love. She’s the one, right?”
Jon’s face softens, and he returns his gaze to her. “Lieutenant,” he says quietly, and Martin beams. Georgie will love that.
Martin had actually predicted this. The little black cat was the chattiest one available, and he knew that Jon loved to converse with the Admiral. However, Lieutenant is bonded with another cat; a young male tabby, who is much more shy. Martin goes to retrieve him, and it takes a fair amount of coaxing. He explains the situation.
“Well, he can be yours, then. Is that alright?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
Martin signs the adoption papers while Jon goes to grab the necessary products from the pet supply stock. Martin’s glad that his partner isn’t there to see him look up the correct spelling for “Lieutenant” -- leave it to Jon to come up with a difficult to spell name. For the tabby… he crouches down by the cat carrier, looking in at him. He knows the cat’s placeholder name, given by the kennel, but that won’t do. He needed it to be personal.
Jon returns to him staring thoughtfully into space.
“I got them separate food bowls, although they probably don’t -- Martin?”
“Hmmm. Keats.”
Jon raises a brow in confusion. “Come again?”
“Keats, I’ll name him Keats. Then I can call him Keatty, as a nickname. Cute, right?”
His words seem to click then, and Jon grins. “Yes, I like it. Very cute.”
---
The cats warm up quickly to their new home. It only takes about a day before Lieutenant is constantly underfoot, holding full conversations with Jon and jumping into their laps to snuggle in the evenings. Keats is much more skittish, and for the first week they rarely even see him.
However, after 10 days, Martin is shocked when he comes home to Jon scratching the tabby on the chin. He’s only a little jealous, but not surprised at all. Jon has a mysterious way with cats. After all, he reminds himself, they are practically the same species.
Jon showers the cats with praise and adoration constantly. He says things like, “you’re so gorgeous,” “your fur is so soft,” “your singing voice is lovely today!” Martin is so charmed by him that he can barely stand it. But of course, he can’t miss this opportunity to tease.
“You know, you compliment the cats far more than I’ve ever heard you compliment anyone, even me!” They’re in bed together a few weeks into cat parenthood. Jon is laying on his stomach and cooing lovingly to Keats, who has just recently gained the confidence to join them.
He turns then, propping himself up on his elbow, and stares at Martin. He’s apparently lost for words. He has that wide-eyed look of astonishment he gets when his defenses are struck down by something, and the effect is especially potent now that his glasses are laying on the bedside table. “Don’t I compliment you?”
Martin feels weak, and almost caves right then, but decides to be stubborn and see where this goes. “Not nearly as much as the cats! You’d think they were the ones who helped you save the world.” He makes sure that the humor is evident in his voice when he says this. He doesn’t want Jon thinking he’s genuinely upset.
For a moment, Jon is quiet, his brows knitted together in thought. His thoughts are loud; you can always tell exactly what he’s thinking by watching his face, and it almost feels like he’s projecting them audibly at times.
Martin opens his mouth to backpedal, as he can tell that he’s taking this matter more seriously than he intended, but he’s cut short when Jon pushes himself up and crawls over, his eyes averted. His ears have gone red, and he flops down and buries his face in Martin’s chest. The words spill out in a stream, muffled by his shirt.
“You’re so kind, Martin, and far more caring than anyone I’ve ever known in my life, even to people who treat you badly. Like… like how I did in the beginning. I still can’t believe you put up with me back then. Also, you’re so brave, far more than I ever have been. And smart, too. Your cooking is incredible, and, and well, y-you’re really, uh, good-looking. The way your hair curls is really… cute. And you’re a good kisser.”
Martin feels like his brain has short-circuited. His mouth hangs open. He can’t see Jon’s face, but he swears there’s a spot of heat where it’s pressed against his chest. He’s doing no better, he can tell his complexion has taken on roughly the hue of a tomato. The blood rushing in his head is making it hard to think properly.
Jon waits for a moment before hesitantly peeking up at him. “Martin?”
It feels like something comes loose in Martin’s head. “J-Jon!” He yelps, and it comes out much more loudly than he intended. Jon actually jumps. He quickly corrects his volume. “Jon, wow! I wasn’t serious! That was-- That, that was! I don’t even know how to-- to respond to that!”
As he splutters, Jon’s whole body physically recoils. He’s gone all stiff and he’s sitting up now, his face looking like he’s just missed a step on the stairs. His mouth is agape in kind of a silent yell, and Martin can’t help himself, he starts laughing. It’s all so ridiculous. This response seems to infuriate Jon more, and he makes to get up, but Martin quickly grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him close.
Their lips meet, and Jon is bristled like an outraged cat, but Martin soothes him by cupping his face and delicately stroking his thumb over his cheek. It takes him a second to settle down, but then he tilts his head, leaning his weight into the kiss. There’s no tongue involved for now, but they hold together for a long moment, incapacitated by the weight of their feelings.
It’s Martin who breaks first, and Jon actually chases his lips to give him another small peck before Martin holds him back. “Jon, you absolute... ridiculous thing. I was teasing, love. You do enough for me already, I don’t need you to flatter me as well. But… thank you. That was so sweet.”
Jon’s still flushed, but he lets his eyes flutter closed and nuzzles against Martin’s hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too, you loon.”
Lieutenant chooses that moment to jump on the bed with a scream. They’re both jolted out of their trance with a shared awkward chuckle, and Jon adjusts himself to sit in his usual position under the covers, beckoning her to lay in his lap.
---
Jon’s camera roll is chock full of cat pictures. Martin receives them throughout the day while he’s at work, and even sometimes when he’s at home. Jon hardly ever posted on Instagram before, but now it’s all cats. Georgie keeps teasing him, but he returns the banter in kind.
Martin, on the other hand, has a private little photo collection of his own going strong. It’s become a common sight to see Jon with his face buried in the cats’ fur, napping with them on the weekends, snuggling with them under a fluffy blanket, or otherwise just being adorably affectionate with them.
Martin has taken to snapping candids of these moments. He has an album in his phone titled “Jon & Cats,” and the number of photos it contains is becoming rather respectable. Sometimes he’ll send these to Georgie or Sasha (not Sasha as much, though, because then he risks Tim responding for her).
His favorite is a video of Jon tempting Lieutenant with a feather toy, testing how high she can jump. The video ends abruptly with a mirthful yell from Martin after the cat accidentally roundhouse kicks Jon in the face. He shows this one to Hilda at work one day when she asks how the cats are doing, and they share a laugh.
He thinks maybe someday he’ll start a scrapbook. For now, though, he’s content just scrolling through these photos over and over during his breaks, feeling the love bursting in his body like blooming fireworks until he can hardly sit still anymore. It’s a perfect substitute to tide him over until he gets home and joins Jon and the cats in the pile of warmth and soft bodies.