Cat feet pad quietly on the cement floor of the shop, the click clack of sharp claws adding definition to the sound. Ángel can hear him coming, but can’t see him yet, not when he’s on his back under Tanner’s truck, working on the bolt that holds the oil pan. “Are you done with the ‘stang?” Ángel calls out. “Give me ten more minutes to get this oil change done, then I’ll be ready to go.”
He’s trying to rush because it’s Sunday, and he doesn’t want to be stuck here any longer than he has to be. But he promised that he’d get the oil change done for Tanner this morning, and he’s already done Helga first, while Tony did some finishing work on the ‘stang. It’s hot, even inside the shop, and the borrowed white shirt is sticking to Ángel’s skin from the sweat. He wants a quick shower and then he wants to get to the beach.
“Mrowr.” The feline grumble is distinctly displeased, and a moment later Tony head butts Ángel’s shoulder. He’s flattened himself to lie beneath the truck next to Ángel’s shoulder, rolling over to squeeze in tight against him.
It’s a distraction.
“Tony.” Ángel tries to nudge him away with his elbow, but Tony only burrows closer, draping himself over Ángel’s arm in a clear plea for Ángel to pay attention to him. Which he would, if he weren’t halfway to having this oil pan unscrewed. Ángel loves it when Tony gets into this kind of mood, a needy cat begging for pets and wanting to be snuggled and squished until he purrs.
But the oil pan. It’s a problem.
Not to mention the fact that Ángel is on his back under Tanner’s truck, which is not exactly an optimal snuggling location. “Five minutes,” Ángel mutters, trying to ignore it as Tony slinks over his arm and ends up on his chest, nuzzling up under Ángel’s chin. Ángel automatically dips his chin in response, rubbing the bone against Tony’s brow ridge, feeling the purr resonate through him as Tony presses against him.
The bolt slips free and Ángel does his best to move out of the way, let the oil drain into the waiting bin except—Tony.
For once Ángel isn’t the only one covered in oil. Tony fluffs up with a hiss, skids out from under the car and comes back to human crouched on the floor.
“Ángel,” Tony growls.
“I told you to wait.” Ángel manages to get it draining safely before he slides out from under the car. He skins off his shirt, uses it to wipe some of the oil from his face after he sits up. “You know how much oil loves me.”
Tony grumbles. He rocks forward onto his feet, brings Ángel to standing with him and wraps his arms around him, nuzzling in close. His nose and tongue tickle the spot behind Ángel’s ear, and Ángel digs his fingers into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, scritching him.
Tony purrs, the sound vibrating between them, and his head drops against Ángel’s shoulders.
“Needy cat,” Ángel murmurs, but he makes no move to put space between them. It’s not like snuggling Tony is ever a bad thing; it’s just sometimes bad timing.
On the other hand, Tony is a cat, so Ángel should probably expect that.
Tony whines softly, nuzzling against Ángel’s throat, meeting his mouth when Ángel tips his head to guide him there. The kiss is slow and soft.
“I think I need a shower now,” Ángel murmurs. “Good thing Zita put in the locker room during the remodel. Think we’ll both fit in it.”
Tony draws back, smirking. “There’s only one way to find out.” He slides his cheek along Ángel’s briefly before pulling away again, putting enough space between them that he can start to strip as he heads for the hallway leading to the locker room.
If Ángel didn’t know better, he’d say Tony planned this.
Who is he kidding? Tony’s a cat. He totally planned this.
The truck can finish draining while they wash up, and Ángel will finish the oil change later. So what if he needs another shower. He has a feeling it’ll be worth it.