Um, yeah, I don't know where the idea for this came from, but enjoy it anyway.
Disclaimer: Cats the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber and T.S. Eliot.
"Hey, Mistoffelees?" The tuxedo tom sighed in irritation and looked over at the interuppting cat.
"What do you want, Plato? I'm a little busy at the moment." Mistoffelees dropped down into a graceful back bend and stared at the now upside-down tom. "I'm trying to get into shape for the Ball tonight, in case you didn't notice."
"Well, actually, that kinda has something to do with what I'd like to speak with you about..." Plato scratched the back of his head and stared at the ground. Everlasting! Why was this so hard?
Mistoffelees sighed once again and sat up, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape.
"I suppose I could take a short break," he said. "What do you want?"
"Well..." Plato coughed and scuffed at the ground with his toe. "You know that Victoria and I have been...well...seeing each other, right?"
"Of course I know." Mistoffelees rolled his eyes. "She comes to me every night raving about what a great cat you are." The tux narrowed his eyes. "Personally, I don't quite know what she sees in you."
Plato sighed and scratched his ear.
"Look, Misto, I know that you don't like me. You've made it quite obvious in several different ways that you don't like me. But...well...There's something I'd like to ask you."
"Well then ask me so I can get back to preparing for the Jellicle Ball," Mistoffelees said, drumming his fingers impatiently against his knee. Plato swallowed and sat down across from the magical cat, forcing himself to look into the tux's face.
"I want to be Victoria's mate. And I'd like your permission, please." Plato braced himself. No telling how Mistoffelees would respond. He had to be ready to bolt if the magical cat decided to use him as target practice for one of his spells.
Mistoffelees blinked slowly.
"What?" Surely he couldn't have heard that correctly.
"I'm asking for your permission to become Victoria's mate."
Mistoffelees couldn't believe it. This feline, this ungraceful tom, wanted to be his sister's mate? He hadn't quite liked it when Victoria started getting friendly with Plato in the first place, but he had brushed it off as a kit-friendship, nothing more. Oh, he had tried to ignore the signs, but it had been becoming more and more obvious that Plato and Victoria were becoming much more than "just friends."
"Just what does Victoria see in him?" Mistoffelees thought. "He's ungraceful, he's not very intellegent, he can be downright obnoxious when he wants to be... What does she see in him?"
"Mistoffelees?" Once he realized that the tuxedo tom might be too surprised to actually kill him, Plato tentatively spoke up. "Look, I know that I'm not the first cat you would choose for Victoria, heck, I'm probably one of the last cats you'd choose, but I really do love Victoria, and I hope that she loves me too. I know that I don't really need your permission, but...I'd like to have it."
Mistoffelees narrowed his eyes slightly. Plato wanted to be his sister's mate, so why didn't he just ask her? Why did he have to come to Mistoffelees to get permission? Why was it so important?
Then Mistoffelees remembered. After he and Victoria had been abandoned as kits, they had taken care of one another. As the older brother, Mistoffelees made it his job to look after his sister. Even after they had been taken in by the Jellicle Tribe, Victoria had always checked with her brother before doing anything. They had promised to be there for each other, no matter what.
Victoria loved Plato, it was obvious to see. Plato loved Victoria, or so he said. Mistoffelees loved his little sister, the only family he had. It was important to Victoria to get her brother's approval, and Plato had realized that. He had come to Mistoffelees first because he knew it was what Victoria would want.
"...If you break her heart, you're dead." Plato blinked, startled.
"W-what?"
"You have my permission," Mistoffelees said. "But if you do anything, anything at all, to hurt her, and I'll tear your tail off. Do we understand each other?"
"Y-yes. Yes. Thank you, Mistoffelees. Thank you!"
"Don't thank me. I'm just thinking of my sister." Mistoffelees stood up. "Now will you kindly leave me in peace? I still need to get in shape for the Ball."
"Yes, of course." Plato stood up. "Thank you again, Mistoffelees." With a grin, the tom ran off, presumably to find the white she-cat to pop the question.
Mistoffelees shook his head as he began to stretch. Victoria would be thrilled, he knew. Not only was the tom of her dreams asking to be her mate, but he had her brother's permission to do so, which would mean the world to Victoria.
Mistoffelees smiled wistfully. His sister wasn't the dependent little kit she had once been. She was older now, able to make her own descions. If she wanted to be Plato's mate, he certainly couldn't stop her. But Plato had somehow gotten the idea to ask Mistoffelees before proposing to Victoria.
It would make Victoria happy, and that was all that Mistoffelees needed to know.
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