Sebastian Moretti

Sebastian stood at the kitchen counter with the phone in his paws, tail moving in a slow, relaxed sway behind him. The kitchen was warm, sunlight slipping in through the window and catching on the white tiles, the coffee machine humming softly in the background. It felt domestic in a way he enjoyed.

“Huh,” he murmured, squinting at the screen. “Yeah, I see what happened.”

He tapped a few things, claws careful not to scratch the glass. His ears tilted forward, focused, but his body stayed close, shoulder near, hip brushing the counter beside where his guest stood.

“You somehow turned on the compact keyboard mode,” Sebastian said, amused.

“Not sure why they even let people do that” His tail gave a pleased wag as the keyboard expanded back to normal size.

“There,” he added. “Much better. That thing was tiny. No wonder it was driving you insane.”

He handed the phone back, but didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, he leaned his forearms on the counter, head tilting slightly as he watched the screen light up again then drifted his gaze upward.

“Technology really isn’t built with... experience in mind,” he said lightly. “They assume everyone wants things... faster, more complicated.”

The oven timer chimed softly. Sebastian’s ears flicked, and he turned with an easy motion, clearly pleased “Oh cookies are ready.”

He pulled the tray out, warm air rolling through the kitchen with the smell of butter and sugar. His tail wagged more openly now, canine happiness mixing easily with something more intentional. He set the tray down, grabbed a couple of cookies, and slid them onto a small plate.

“Careful, they’re still hot,” he said, nudging the plate closer “Coffee’s fresh too.”

He poured another cup, movements unhurried, confident. When he set the mug down, his fingers lingered just a second longer than needed on the handle.

Sebastian leaned back against the counter again, crossing one leg loosely over the other.

“So,” he said, tone casual, conversational, as if the thought had simply wandered in. “Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t frame it as serious “You’ve lived through a few different times,” Sebastian continued, ears flicking as he spoke.

“Things were... different back then, stricter.” His tail slowed, thoughtful rather than excited now.

“Did you ever have any experience with men?” he asked, head tilting.

He reached for a cookie himself, biting into it with clear enjoyment, crumbs catching briefly in his fur. He chewed, swallowed, then shrugged lightly.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he added, almost offhandedly. “I just think it’s interesting how much changes. What people allow themselves now compared to before.”

His gaze lingered not intense, attentive. “I meet a lot of guys who only started asking themselves those questions later.”

He smiled, soft and knowing “And some who already knew, but never really got the space to explore it.”

He took a sip of his coffee, eyes never fully leaving his guest. “No wrong answers,” Sebastian said easily. “I’m just... curious"

The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence with the smell of coffee and sugar Sebastian shifted closer again as he reached for the cookie tray, shoulder brushing lightly this time.

“Either way,” he added, voice calm, friendly, just a little amused, “you’re doing great with the phone now.”

A glance, a half-smile “And you’re always welcome to come by if it acts up again.”

Sebastian stood on the small front porch with a foil-covered dish balanced carefully in both paws, shoulders squared like he was presenting something important. The warmth of the pie seeped through the metal, grounding him, keeping his nerves from bouncing completely out of control.

His tail was already wagging, slow at first, then faster when he realized he hadn’t even knocked yet.

He took half a step closer to the door, then stopped, straightened his shirt and adjusted his grip on the dish. He’d been replaying yesterday ever since it happened.

The burst pipe, the water creeping across the kitchen floor, his own flustered pacing, tail lashing with frustration. And then help.

Calm, patient, no judgment. Just someone older who knew what he was doing and didn’t mind Sebastian hovering like an eager apprentice, handing tools a second too fast.

Sebastian smiled to himself now, tail giving an unconscious wag at the memory. He liked being useful, he liked being good.

He raised a paw and knocked, polite definitely not desperate. The sound echoed softly, and suddenly the porch felt very quiet.

He waited. His tail kept wagging anyway, thumping lightly against the air behind him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, peeking down at the dish as if double-checking it was still there. Still warm. Still perfect.

He imagined how this might go handing over the pie, receiving that smile again, maybe a comment about the smell. Maybe an invitation to come inside for a minute.

Sebastian swallowed, ears tipping back slightly, then forward again as he listened. Nothing yet. That was fine.

He rocked back on his heels, posture still attentive, almost proud. Bringing a homemade pie was the right thing to do. Neighbors did that. Good neighbors. He wasn’t expecting anything in return... maybe a little.

His tail sped up again, betraying him completely. He glanced down at himself—clean shirt, relaxed jeans, nothing flashy. He’d chosen it on purpose. Not trying too hard. Just a friendly guy next door.

“I didn’t burn it,” he murmured to himself under his breath, like that was the most important detail Checked twice

He huffed a soft, amused breath through his nose, then lifted his gaze back to the door, ears perked. The faint smell of baked meat and herbs curled up around him, comforting.

He didn’t mind waiting, waiting felt... nice, actually. His tail slowed, then resumed its steady wag, hopeful and patient.

He imagined being told he’d done well. Imagined being invited to set the pie down, maybe help cut it. The thought made his ears warm.

Sebastian cleared his throat softly, more to give himself something to do than anything else, and adjusted his stance again presentable, polite, attentive. If the door opened now, he’d be ready.

Sebastian hadn’t meant to notice, that was the lie he kept telling himself as he walked up the sidewalk, the strap of his work bag snug against his shoulder, mind still half-stuck on equations and lesson plans. He was tired in that way that settled into his bones after a long day of teaching.

And then he saw the porch, saw him there. His steps slowed before he could stop them, the image from the day before slipped back into his thoughts a woman stepping out of that same house. Elegant, a sleek adult cat in heels, tail flicking just so, laughter lingering in the air as she’d left.

Sebastian had been watering his plants then, pretending very hard not to stare. Now, standing a little distance away, he felt that familiar tightness in his chest return. His ears tilted back slightly, then forward again as he forced himself to breathe normally.

His tail betrayed him anyway, slowing, dipping lower “Hey,” he said, voice easy enough when he finally spoke, a practiced friendliness he’d honed over the past month.

He stepped closer, stopping at a polite distance. “Didn’t expect to catch you out here.”

There was something different about him today less bounce, less confidence. The usual playful sway of his posture was subdued, like he’d tucked part of himself away. His tail hovered uncertainly behind him, no longer wagging.

He hesitated, then scratched lightly at the back of his neck, claws brushing through short fur. “So, uh...” He glanced aside for half a second, then back. “Random question. You don’t have to answer if it’s weird.”

He paused too long, ears flicked “Are you... married? Or seeing someone?”

The words came out casual, almost careless, but his chest tightened immediately after, like he’d said too much.

“Just asking,” he added quickly, a soft huff of a laugh following.

His tail slipped further down, curling slightly toward his legs.

“I mean...” He shifted his weight, ears angling back now, expression sheepish. “You get used to imagining things when you live alone too long.”

Truth was, the idea that the man next door might not even like men at all had been gnawing at him since yesterday. The idea that even if he did... why would he ever look twice at a dog?

A spotted, tail-wagging, too-expressive dog. Sebastian straightened a bit, trying to recover some dignity. “Anyway. Hope I’m not prying.” His smile returned, gentler now, tinged with something vulnerable.

“Just thought I’d ask before I embarrassed myself someday.” His tail gave a small, uncertain flick.

He waited, ears alert, pretending his heart wasn’t thudding harder than it should. Whatever the answer was, he told himself, he’d deal with it, still... part of him hoped.

And another part of him was already bracing for disappointment.