Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning
Written by Luna
Notes: This started out (shockingly enough) as a West Wing story, so props to Cal. Jesus movie sized props to Jess. Please send feedback.
Kay turned over drowsily. "I'm sleeping."
"The thing," Munch said coldly.
She buried her face in the pillow. "It's six o'clock. My mind isn't exactly..."
He sighed. "Your cat bit my foot."
"Good for her. Did I mention I'm sleeping?"
"Aren't you supposed to hit her with a rolled-up newspaper or something?" he demanded, casting a dour look in the animal's direction. It leapt from the end of the bed to the floor.
"That would be pet abuse." She nudged him with her elbow. "Go take a shower, hmm? You have to work."
"You have to work too."
"I need my beauty rest."
"You look fine."
She raised her head slightly. A lock of mussed hair fell into her eyes. "Liar."
"Only a little."
She elbowed him more energetically. "Go away."
"Isn't that abuse?"
"Do I look like I care? Go make yourself clean. I'll get up in a minute."
Barely opening his eyes, Munch climbed out of the bed. He stepped over the tangle of clothes on the floor and trudged into the bathroom. As he reached behind him to yank the door shut, he felt another nip on his ankle. "God!"
"Mmph," Kay replied.
"Articulate." He looked at the cat accusingly. "Why do you do that?"
The cat made a gentle 'brrmp' noise and rubbed its head adoringly against his foot. Munch pushed it aside as he went into the shower. He stood under the water, letting it pelt him as it changed from cold to hot. The cat listened to the running water with interest.
"What?" Munch said to its curious gaze, as he emerged from behind the shower curtain.
"John?" Kay called.
"Don't use the blue towel."
He lifted his face out of it. "Okay," he said, placing it back on the hook.
She looked at the clock and gasped. "It's quarter of seven!"
"I'm going to have to rush now. Hurry up."
Munch grimaced and swigged some of her Listerine. "She knows she shouldn't sleep so late," he told the kitten.
"I shouldn't sleep so late," Kay groaned.
"And yet, she does it anyway." He closed her medicine cabinet. The kitten purred and sat back on its haunches, its eyes following Munch's movements.
Kay rapped on the door. "Are you decent?"
"Of course not."
"Hurry up and get out."
"These are not things a guy wants to hear."
"Oh, shake it already."
He glanced at the cat. "She's your person. Don't ask me."
"Are you talking to the cat in there?" Kay asked, just outside the door.
Munch opened it and studied her. Her hair was standing on end, her arms laden with a jumble of clothes. "How does that beauty sleep thing work?"
"You were talking to the cat," she said triumphantly. "You like her."
"I don't like *it* at all."
She edged past him into the bathroom. "You, my friend, are a secret cat person."
"You're a latent crazy person," he countered, taking a backwards step into the bedroom and closing the door. He gathered his clothes up from the floor, frowning at the knot that was still in his tie.
"Hey," Kay yelped. "You used my towel!"
"The cat did it," he told her.
"Cats hate water."
"That's why it needed a towel."
"Could you bring me a dry one?"
As he went to get one from her closet, the clock radio on her night-stand began to blare automatically. Munch fiddled with it and shut it off. "You listen to Howard Stern?" he shouted, disapprovingly.
"Sure," she answered, over the sound of the shower. "So?"
"So that doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities?"
She scoffed. "Are you bringing the towel?"
"I'm bringing the towel."
He opened the bathroom door again. The cat slipped out between his ankles, dashed around the bedroom twice, and jumped up onto the windowsill. Then it caught itself, climbed back down and sedately returned to its spot on the bath mat.
"That thing is schizophrenic," Munch observed.
"You're just grumpy in the mornings, Munchkin."
"You are." He tried to suppress a smile. "Towel's on the hook."
"Did you bring one, or two?"
"You said you needed one."
"I did say that," Kay agreed. "But you should have brought two."
"What, because you've got so much hair you can't--"
"For yourself." Her voice deepened slightly. "You're going to get wet again."
"I am?" His eyebrows went up. She tugged the curtain aside a few inches, and he nodded. "I'll manage with the blue one."
Her laughter mingled with the rush of the water. The cat swished its tail and cocked its head, deeply fascinated by the sounds behind the curtain. After a few minutes, it yawned and stretched out along the floor, waiting for the people to finish their morning routine.
* * *
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