An Early Gift

Disclaimical: T.S. Eliot created these kitties, Andrew Lloyd Webber made them sing and dance. Both would have heart attacks if they knew what I was making the cats do.

Written as a Christmas gift-fic for CrazyIndigoChild. :) It was based off her adorable drawing found here at DeviantArt:

http:/wata-coinkydink-not. deviantart. com /art /Oh-Shit-266152210

With the exception of the Jellicle Ball itself, the Christmastime celebration at the junkyard was the biggest social gathering of the year. Maybe it was a behavior they had learned from humans, or maybe there was something that just drew the tribe to gather together and celebrate some time around the solstice, when a rare blanket of snow covered the junkyard.

Unlike the Jellicle Ball, there was no all-important choice to be made, no formal mating dance, no pressure to do anything or perform anything but to come together and enjoy each other's company, singing and dancing at their leisure.

It was the sort of gathering Munkustrap usually found most relaxing. Unlike the Jellicle Ball, where he tended to overstress himself to make sure everything went smoothly, at Christmastime his only responsibility was to make sure his father arrived in the junkyard safely and not too frozen, and the rest of the night was his to enjoy.

A surprising number of cats had managed to pilfer Christmas food and decorations from the nearby villages and cities. A series of garlands (mismatched, but still quite festive) had been wrapped around every available junk pile, and someone had even managed to drag a large, mistletoe-covered wreath back to the junkyard. It was now displayed on the tire, where Old Deuteronomy was currently sitting, happily watching as Skimbleshanks tried to teach an old human Christmas carol to some of the kittens.

Munkustrap smiled, though anyone watching him at that moment would have noticed his smile was somewhat tight. Normally, this was not a stressful gathering, but this was a special Christmas for him, in a way: this would be the last Christmas he'd spend before becoming a father. Right now, something very, very important was missing, and Munkustrap was not about to relax one muscle until he'd found it.

He soon flagged down Tugger, who was busy pulling pieces of mistletoe from the wreath, gathering them into a goodly-sized pile.

"Tugger," he asked, a little too distracted to think about asking Tugger why he was dismantling the wreath in such a way. "Have you seen Misto?"

"Recently?" Tugger said. He tested the flexibility of the stems of the mistletoe pieces and began to affix them to his belt. "Not sure. He was here an hour ago, talking to Victoria and some of the other queens, but I haven't seen him since."

Munkustrap sighed, scanning the celebrating crowd until he'd spotted Victoria; it was a little difficult to visually locate the all-white queen, with the fluffy snow already covering the junkyard. She was standing next to Plato and Etcetera, all three curiously sniffing at the eggnog Rumpleteazer had brought in. But there was no sign of Mistoffelees in the group.

"You're not worried, are you?" Tugger asked. He looked up from tying down one of the mistletoe pieces to give his brother a comforting smile. "You know he's fine. He probably just needed a break from all the action and attention."

"I suppose. I'd still feel better if I knew where he was."

"Oh, relax. And tie this one to the back of my belt, would you?" Tugger handed the tabby the last piece of mistletoe and swished his tail out of the way; bemused and still a little distracted, Munkustrap took the piece and did as he was told. "You should be out enjoying yourself, you know. Next year's Christmas party won't be so relaxing for you, chasing down an excited kitten and all that."

Despite his worry, the thought did make Munkustrap smile. "You're right about that. I'll just make sure Misto doesn't need anything and go back to the party."

"That's the spirit!" Tugger beamed, admiring his belt for a moment before affectionately clapping his brother's shoulder. "I'll save you some eggnog."

Munkustrap leapt from the tire, determined to pick up his mate's scent and at least put his own mind at ease. As he walked away, he heard Tugger re-joining the celebrating crowd with a flourish.

"All right, everyone! Who wants to kiss Tugger under the mistletoe?"

To Munkustrap's relief, he found Mistoffelees soon after. He'd hidden himself behind a junk pile and now, still oblivious to his audience of one, was busy staring at the small bump of his belly in the reflective surface of a discarded car window. He was only halfway through the pregnancy, but still the growing kitten was making its presence known in a very visual way. Mistoffelees turned his body to the side, a slightly glum look on his face as he slowly ran his paw over the black-and-white swell, deliberately rubbing the bump at its most prominent point.

The tabby wondered if Mistoffelees had started feeling self-conscious, deciding to leave the party to avoid attention, but that didn't make a whole lot of sense; the tux had been loving the attention so far, reveling in having all the other Jellicles ask him how he was doing or ask to touch his belly. What could be wrong now?

"Misto?" he tentatively said, not wishing to startle his mate.

Mistoffelees jumped a bit, obviously not expecting an audience. His glum expression was quickly replaced by a small smile. "Oh, Munk! Hello."

Stepping down from the junk pile, Munkustrap took a quick, appraising look at his pregnant mate; he seemed fine. "Are you all right, love? I couldn't find you at the party. Are you sick? Tired? Hungry? Does anything hurt?"

Mistoffelees smiled at the gentle probing. "No, no. Well, the eggnog was making me a bit nauseous, but I'm fine."

"I was wondering why you left," Munkustrap said. Sitting down, he slipped an arm around Mistoffelees' shoulders, frowning a bit as the tux sighed a bit sadly and slumped against him. "Something's bothering you. What's wrong? Did something happen at the party?"

"Not… not really."

"Tell me."

"Jemina felt my stomach," Mistoffelees said, cupping the roundness to mimic the movement. "She asked me if I was feeling the kitten moving yet."

"Yes?"

"And… I haven't."

Munkustrap nodded patiently, reaching over with his free hand to touch the still bump. "I know, we've been waiting for that."

"Well, I should be feeling him, shouldn't I?" Mistoffelees said, agitation creeping into his voice. "I'm more than halfway along, according to Jenny. The kitten should be kicking, or punching, or rolling around—something."

"So, he's a little too comfortable to start bouncing around yet," Munkustrap soothed. "Or we've got ourselves a bit of a lazy kitten, that's all."

"But what if something's wrong, and we don't know? I just want to feel him move, and know he's okay."

"Misto, love, he's fine. He's been growing!"

"Or I've just been getting really fat."

"Even if that's the case, you still look lovely."

Mistoffelees huffed a small laugh, but Munkustrap could still feel the tension in the small shoulders. Gently, he began to rub his young mate's back, then his belly. "If you're really worried, do you want me to ask Jenny to have a look at you?"

"Yes. No," Mistoffelees groaned softly. "Maybe. Maybe tomorrow. I don't want to bother her while it's Christmas. And maybe I'm being silly."

Munkustrap knew better than to agree that he was being silly, so he merely nodded in agreement, continuing to rub the tense shoulders. "I'm sure a quick examination will make you feel better tomorrow."

"I hope so."

It took a few more minutes of rubbing and gentle nuzzling before Mistoffelees began to relax, a very quiet purr rumbling through his chest as he rubbed his stomach and leaned against the tabby.

"You don't have to go back to the party, you know," Munkustrap said. "We can go back to our den and spend the rest of the night together."

"Hmm," Mistoffelees said. His purrs grew louder as he snuggled against Munkustrap's shoulder in a rather not-innocent fashion. "It would be nice to spend some alone time together."

Munkustrap blushed as he helped his mate to his feet. This wasn't quite what he meant, but then again Mistoffelees did seem to be in the middle of the 'eager-to-mate' stage of pregnancy, and it would really be unkind to refuse him.

In fact, no sooner had the two stepped into the warmth of their den that Mistoffelees pulled Munkustrap down to him for a kiss, which quickly turned into licks and nips as they made their way towards their blankets nest. Mistoffelees' previous anxiety was gone, or at least momentarily forgotten, and the tabby was certainly happy to help him continue to forget.

"This is starting to feel like an early Christmas gift," Munkustrap said, smiling as the tux spread himself out on the blankets. The growing swell of his stomach didn't diminish his beauty one bit; if anything, he was more attractive to Munkustrap now than ever, with the healthy shine of his fur, the glow on his face, and his wonderful, pheromone-laden scent.

"I hope you don't mind, it's not wrapped." Mistoffelees laughed, excited and breathless as he reached for his mate, groaning and twisting about as Munkustrap ran warm paws all over his body. A caress here, a tickle there, and before too long, Munkustrap began lovingly preparing the small tom for a proper mating, only to have the moment broken.

"Whoa!" Mistoffelees suddenly yelped, startling Munkustrap so much that he nearly fell off the bed in his haste to pull away, terrified that he'd somehow hurt or crushed his mate.

He stared with round, terrified eyes as Mistoffelees scrambled to sit up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and cradling his belly. Everlasting Cat! Was he sick? Was the kitten sick? Or was it something worse? "M-Misto? Are you in pain? What's wrong?"

Mistoffelees was round-eyed and stock-still, splaying his hands against his stomach. "Wait… maybe it's just gas."

"What?"

"Oh… oh!" Mistoffelees jumped again, giggling and looking happy and relieved, confusing Munkustrap even further. "It-it feels so… Munk, feel this!"

Too utterly bewildered to resist, Munkustrap let the tux yank his hand over and press it to the warm bump of his stomach, moving it here and there and frowning until Munkustrap felt a sudden, tiny flutter against his hand.

"Oh!" he echoed, and suddenly he knew he had a big goofy smile on his face. "There it is!"

"Do you feel that?" Mistoffelees asked excitedly.

"He finally decided to wake up," Munkustrap said. The flutter was faint, almost like the wings of a butterfly, but it was unmistakable. He wondered if it was a hand or a hind foot giving him those tiny nudges. Still smiling, he bent down to press a small kiss to the belly. "Hi, kitten. Now this is a nice Christmas gift."

"Let me just go show everyone that the kitten's kicking," Mistoffelees said, pulling the tabby up and giving him a quick kiss. "And then… then we can come back here and I can finish giving you your other early Christmas gift."

Munkustrap smiled and followed his brightened mate out of their den, happy and relieved and more than a little excited at this new development.

On the way out, the tabby made a mental note to steal one of the mistletoe sprigs from Tugger's belt before returning to his den.

The End

May you all find your own mpreg kittens under the Christmas tree!