domestic bliss, for my kitteh

[mouse]

It´s a comfortable Saturday afternoon at the Monroe´s home. Elsie has been packed off to dance class, and Angeline is in the kitchen, engaged in the homely occupation of making cookies. Woof, the household dog - a sort of terrier golden retriever beagle type thing - is perpetually under her feet, hoping to catch falling scraps of cookie dough. The household cats - Meow, Cat, and the recently acquired Primrose - are no where to be seen. Angie is not worried. They´re probably sleeping in the sun, or trying to kill each other, or whatever it is that cats do in their spare time.

Angie´s hair is tied back with a bit of black cloth, and she´s got flour all over herself. A cheery pink apron is doing its best to keep the cookie dough off of her clothes but Angie is detirmined to make a mess and her black jeans are powdered to a sort of grey colour. The vase of flowers on the kitchen counter is also lightly dusted with assorted dry ingredients. She is humming as she mixes the milk and eggs, snatches of hymns. At this particular moment she is humming Amazing Grace. She is making chocolate chip walnut cookies. On the wall a large clock is easing its way towards five. Elsie will be finished with dance soon, but Angie´s sure.. Well, fairly sure, that it´s Mrs Higgins day turn to do pick up, so she´s not all to worried about that.

[Kittyhawk]

Darn Angie is adorable, in the way only a grown woman you've had intimate relations with can be adorable, when she's all domestic. Tom is having a lovely stay in cat form, but all good things come to an end.

In right about an hour he'll be changing. He hasn't come up with his strategy for attire yet either. The cat, primrose, being absent, is easy, cats are of coarse fickle and mercurial beings.

Tom just thanks the gods Angie hasn't taken him to the spay clinic yet.

[mouse]

Time passes. Angie proceeds in cookie production, moving on to the Ode to Joy, feeding the dog scraps of cookie dough. She greases the cookie sheet, drops the dough onto it in perfectly spaced, perfectly sized balls. There´s something obsessive about it. Then she pops the tray in the oven, remembers to set a timer. She takes her apron off, hangs it on a hook, and goes into the living room to read poetry.

[Kittyhawk]

Dogs eating cookie dough, bleh. Tom wouldn't think so in human form though. He struts through the house thinking, letting his tail lash against random furniture. 'Primrose....?' He wonders how she came up with it.

The hour of raiding closets is nigh.

[mouse]

"Ah, hullo hunni..." Angeline reaches a slightly floury hand down to stroke the cat´s head as it walks past. She did not in fact come up with the name. Elsie named the cat after a favourite plant. Doubtless Angeline would be somewhat disturbed if she knew she´d given her lover as a birthday present to her daughter, but this hasn´t come up yet.

[Kittyhawk]

Tom would only nonchalantly assure her that cat's don't belong to people. The fact that he happened to be a cat to be given as a present wouldn't really be what he focused on, it's bad for his ego.

He gives a rumbley purr, but then sneezes and shakes off the bit of flour he's just been inadvertantly garnished with.

[mouse]

Angeline sets her book of poetry - something by some Irish woman, very domestic and heartbroken - down and scoops the cat up in her arms. "Who´s a good kitty?" She demands, nuzzling the top of the cat´s head with her chin. She´d doubtless be mortified if she knew it was in fact Tom.

[Kittyhawk]

Tom ought to be mortified too, but she gives out good scraps and is so much nicer than kitty lock up. He purrs louder and headbutts her. This could be very awkward if she played with him for very long.

[mouse]

Luckily for Tom and the awkward, a timer goes off the kitchen. "Oops, fuck, cookies," Angie mutters, remembering suddenly that she was in the middle of doing something. "Down you go." She scoots Tom onto the floor and hurries off to check on her baking.

[Kittyhawk]

Tom has made it to the upstairs closet lickety split. He really does need to work on keeping some things here. His hair stands on end, it's normal proceeding his transformation. If only he can stay out of sight and out of mind now. He hides in the closet, it seems he'll have to magic himself some clothes.

[mouse]

Angie is downstairs, oblivious to any strange proceedings that may be taking place in her guest room. She´s laying out perfectly golden brown cookies on a wire rack and humming again, now to the radio. "All you need is love..."

[Kittyhawk]

Clothes are in place, and Tom is transformed, a few minor incantations and he even color coordinates. Then it's a matter of getting downstairs and outside. Which he manages just in time for cookies by the smell of things.

[mouse]

The doorbell ringing suprises Angie. She sets down the cookie sheet and heads off to answer the door. She´s still got a floral oven mitt on one hand, and flour all over her face, along with a worried expression. She´s sure it´s not time for Elsie to be home yet, and like the mother she is she´s thinking of all the bad things that could have happened. A frown purses her forehead, deepening lines that are already there from age. It disappears, however, when she sees Tom, and is rapidly replaced by a smile - first clearly delighted, and then more appropriately guarded.

[Kittyhawk]

"Well?" he asks innocently. He hasn't been around as often as he'd like but he has sent flowers a couple times.

[mouse]

Angeline would deny to anyone that this relationship makes her nervous and uncertain. Makes her feel like she´s still in fucking highschool. But it´s so... odd. They slept together that once, and it was like casual sex, she´s barely seen him since, barely knows anything about him, but he keeps sending the lovliest flowers. There are some on the kitchen counter now.

"Don´t just stand there, then, you´re letting the heat in," she chides, opening the door a bit farther.