baby it's warm outside

     "Zania."
     "...mm..."
     "I'm hot."
     "...that you are, Sammy."
     "Ha ha, hilarious.  Where's that little fan thing Miss Johnson gave us?"
     "It broke last week, remember?"
     "...unghhh..."
     The day was hot and molasses-sticky and nothing in San Fransisco had enough energy to move.  The cars on the street were quiet, only the occasional quiet rattle of a streetcar disturbing the heavy peace.  Everyone with two brain cells to rub together was either inside or lounging languidly in an air-conditioned venue. Even the flies were lazy, draped across windowsills and not making much noise.  Every door in the apartment was propped open, along with every window, trying desperately to encourage airflow, but to little avail.  Zania and Sam had given up trying to sit in front of the rotating fan about one that afternoon, deciding that the air was simply sticking to the fan blades and refused to budge.  So they'd come to their bed, kicked off the blankets and stripped down for a nap, from which Sam (and Zania) had just woken.
     Sam got up on their knees, patting along the edge of the window, searching for the latch.  Once they found it, they pushed it open half-heartedly and slumped back against the sticky sheets.  They glanced over at Zania, sliding his glasses onto the proud bridge of his nose.  A slow, content smile spread across his lips when he laid eye on Sam.
     "Hey," he breathed, his voice rusty with sleep.  It sent pleasant chill skittering up Sam's spine.
     "Hay is for horses," Sam retorted, running their hands through their curly mane of mahogany hair. "Uuuugh, my hair's all damp and gross..."
     "What time is it?"
     "Um...like, three thirty something?"
     "Hours 'til sunset."
     "Yep, gotta wait a little longer for breathable air."
     Sam flopped back down next to Zania, flipping the pillow over to a dry and slightly cooler side.  They sighed in relief.  A set of five pale fingers with neatily trimmed nails smoothed down their side, tracing lightly up their spine.  Without looking, Sam grabbed Zania's hand and kissed his knuckles, replacing his hand firmly on their hip.  Zania laughed, expelling air onto Sam's neck.  Zania nuzzled and kissed at the dark skin at Sam's nape, taking great pride in the squirming he elicited from Sam.
    "Zani, it's too hot to- oh..."  
     "Mm?"
     "You're gross."
     "Want me to stop?"
     "...nah, feels nice.  You're still gross, though."
     "Yeah."
     Leaning their head forward, Sam let Zania at their neck and held up their hair as he lapped at the beads of sweat that had collected on their skin.  I am actually dating a cat-boy and I have no problem with it.  I have lost control of my life.
     "How long until my grooming is over?"
     "Just hush, you dumb butt.  Go back to sleep."
     So they did.