by Hex
Trowa stepped into his bedroom, batting at the wall in an attempt to turn on the light. He felt a cool, wet, greasy mass squish through his sock. He shuddered in revulsion and felt his nose scrunch up.
"DAMN IT SPOT!" Trowa bellowed into the empty apartment. "I couldn't *afford* Fancy Feast this week. You're just going to have to deal with the Friskies! Stop punishing me! We're on a really tight budget right now."
Trowa let out a sigh over the fact he was having what sounded like a typical newly weds argument, with his cat. Trowa had reached the conclusion that having the two jobs wasn't necessarily worth the shear harassment he was getting from Spot. Although he really couldn't afford to keep them in the apartment that allowed cats without the second job. So he was torn between his daily punishment of hell at one of two shitty jobs and an attention deprived kitty or having to hide said kitty and allow him zero outdoor time. Either way Trowa was going to be up shit creek without a paddle and would end up stepping in kitty puke every time he came home.
His day time job could have been worse he supposed, trouble shooting for an Internet provider wasn't very bad as far as jobs went. It was his evening job that was horrid. It had forced Trowa to reach one conclusion. He was not meant to be a waiter. He hated people. It was that simple. He had a hard time pandering to their whims and flirting for a tip. He was too straightforward for that type of stupidity and he really couldn't stand it. He needed another job that wasn't serving.
Trowa let a deep sigh escape his lips before an idea popped into his head. He grinned then grimaced as he pried his sock off his foot. He carried the now multicolored white sock gingerly to the laundry basket and tossed it in. He rummaged quickly through his dresser drawers for his sweat pants and T-shirt. He snatched the book he was currently reading off of his night stand and practically skipped to the bathroom. Once inside he tossed his book next to the sink and threw his clothes in the corner.
The cinnamon-haired man crouched down and opened up the cupboard under the sink looking at all the bottles intently. He reached in putting his entire arm into the small cupboard up to his shoulder. His eyes shifted heavenward and his tongue peaked out at the corner of his mouth as he felt around past the bottles of various cleaning supplies to settle on one closer to the back. A small plastic bottle that caused Trowa to grin as his hand grasped it firmly.
Trowa's head bobbed to some unheard music as he moved and turned on the bathtub's tap. He let the water run over his hand until it reached the desired temperature, somewhere near scalding, then he plugged the drain. A good portion of the bottle's green liquid went into the tub. Trowa smiled happily down at the now frothing water in the tub. He shed his clothes as quickly as he could and slowly lowered himself into the now full tub. He let a sigh escape his lips as he leaned back in the tub, bubbles up to his chest.
The heat of the water combined with the smell of apples relaxed Trowa completely. He very nearly oozed rather than moved and let his arms dangle out of the tub. A nudge at his hand indicated that a certain cat wanted attention. He scratched the orange striped tabby behind the ears then shifted to her chin. Spot's purring filled the room and Trowa smiled down at her.
"Spoiled rotten little brat."
The cat merely let her eyes slide shut in response before moving so that Trowa's hand stroked along her back before she padded out of the bathroom. Trowa looked at his hand and stuck his tongue out at the long cat hairs that stuck to the dampness there. He reached out of the tub and wiped the fur off onto his work shirt before letting himself slide further into the water enjoying the scent of apples. He sighed loudly and frowned at the bubble bath.
Tomorrow was another day, unfortunately.
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