IT'S SEQUEL TIME!

I've gotten reviews and messages about how "What in the hey happened to Misto?" so I followed it up with another story! Please be advised of the

WARNINGS

-Some graphic material around injury and death, a lot of which includes kittens.
-Light gore
-Swearing (But I know you all do it)
-Suggestions of HOMOSEXUAL (the best kind) SEX and maybe a gratuitous scene if you ask nicely enough.

Aside from that I welcome you back and hope you all enjoy!

"Good morning!"

Peeking out from the best sleep he'd had in ages, in the most comfortable bed he'd slept in in ages, Mistoffelees stretched out on his stomach. With his face buried in his pillow he could only feel the bed dimple beside him. "I made you breakfast." Warm, minty breath fanned his ears and they were given soft nips.

"Did you?" Sleep, that slippery bugger, escaped him. No matter how deep he dug into Munkustrap's enormous and dauntingly unfamiliar bed he would never find it. Though considering the alternative, a warm, fluffy housecoat-clad body pressed against him and handsome company, being awake wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even if the aforementioned housecoat was the most heinous shade of orange he'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. "I'm warning you: if you feed me there's a chance I might never leave."

"Like a stray," Munkustrap noted cheekily, paws trailing over the tux's shoulders and peeling the blankets back. "Except you know not to pee on my carpet. And sing along to the ads on TV."

Rolling over, Mistoffelees hooked his arm around the tabby's neck and pulled him down onto the bed. "I would hope there'd be more benefits to having me around."

Munkustrap rolled them over with a low purr, leaning in a little too close for simply pleasant 'morning after' conversation. "Mm, yes… many," he said between kisses. Pulling away—and away from the very real threat of making them both late for work—he nodded to the nightside table. "Better get a start on that. We've only an hour and a half."

"Just wait until you see what I can do with twenty— pancakes!"

Eyes the size of two small planets, Mistoffelees shovelled an even bigger bite into his mouth. "While you eat I'm going to shower; unlike you I have to put effort into looking so handsome."

Through sticky lips the puffy-cheeked tom snorted. As an afterthought he covered his mouth with his hand to contain the syrup massacre that was his breakfast. "I dare you to tell that to any of the nurses. Aren't you going to have any?"

Off went the housecoat and Mistoffelees almost choked on his second bite. He wasn't sure whether he should look away while a naked Munkustrap reached into the linen closet for a towel... but he didn't. "I already ate."

"I should shower too," he mumbled to himself, downing the glass of orange juice he found nearby. If the juice was fresh-pressed he might have to just walk out then and there, buy a ring, and marry the damn cat.

Oh good, it's from concentrate.

"Of course!" Munkustrap's voice echoed from the bathroom and it's spotless gleaming white tiles. Most of Mistoffelees' building was done in the 60s which meant bright yellow toilets and time stained 'off-white' tiles. These were the real deal. The showerhead sang his name.

A moment later Munkustrap's head poked out. His grin spelt trouble. The good kind of trouble. "As a good host I should let you shower first."

"You should."

"But then I'd have to show you how everything works."

Swallowing thick, Mistoffelees licked at a bead of syrup from the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit of a slow learner."

"And we'd most definitely be late for work…"

Everlasting. That tom knew exactly what he was doing.

Absolutely it was most definitely working.

No sooner had the tabby taken his beguiling smile and bedroom eyes into the shower Mistoffelees gulped down his mouthful- took another two bites for the road- and scampered his hide to the bathroom.

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"Good morning!" Glancing up from his second cup of coffee Alonzo would find Mistoffelees' too eager smile as he peeked overhead to look at the patient board. So eager and ready to start the day, in fact, that he was practically bouncing as he noted the late-night asthma attack and the high fever awaiting him in the paediatric beds.

Slurping from his milk carton the tux unzipped his jacket with a flourish and sauntered back to the staff room. "Happy Monday to me."

Alonzo watched him over the rim of his cup as he sat quietly behind the desk. What the heck had gotten into him that morning? A quick glance at his watch and… "Sorry I'm late!"

"Munkustrap!" Alonzo cheered, toasting the dishevelled and flustered tom, who also stopped to take a look at their leftover patients from the night before. "I hope you know it's hospital policy that all fraternizing doctors have to clock in with a minimum of eight minutes apart. There was a memo about it."

Looking at him through slotted eyes, Munkustrap glanced around the admin area. For deniability, of course, he picked up the first chart and pretended to inspect the oozing boil that just couldn't wait for the day staff. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"When you go in can you make sure Mistoffelees rolls up the scrub pants you lent him? It's a real tripping hazard and I'm—"

Munkustrap slapped his paws over his ears and sped after the tux; "La la la laaaaa, not hearing you!"

A short time later and Mistoffelees was the first to emerge from the staff lounge, grinning like a madman with his scrubs rolled up to his ankles.

Exactly eight minutes after that Munkustrap emerged and slumped down into the seat beside the ever-smug Alonzo.

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

One quick spin in the office chair confirmed they were entirely alone—well, if one didn't count the passed out college tom snoring off a rough night a few feet away. "… Later."

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"Look, it's a swan!"

Origami was definitely a lot harder than it looked. Kitten origami—in which one crushes and crumples up pieces of paper into semi-animal shapes—was more Mistoffelees' speed. With pride he held up his own ball of blue paper. "I made a bear."

The kittens in the beds on either side of him giggled. "That's not a bear, Dr. Misto."

"That's because you're looking at it from the back, Theo. From here it's a bear."

Theo, a massive orange mass of static and boogers, had been admitted for a fever early in the morning. He was responding well to the medication… not to the choice of entertainment so much. Luckily Mistoffelees only had one more blood culture to wait on before discharging him.

"I want to go home, this mask smells funny," whined the other kit, Miles, from beneath his nebulizer. For the most part he was disinterested in anything that wasn't Star Wars, and frequently expressed his adamant hatred of all things grape flavoured.

Mistoffelees reached over and readjusted the mask over the kit's face. "I know it does, but you're almost done soon and your mum will be able to take you home. Then you can go to school—"

"Nooo! I'm too sick for school."

"I don't know, Miles. You sound pretty healthy to me."

Theo, who was undoubtedly staying home today, jabbed his tongue out across the way. The doctor ignored the two as he glanced at his watch—did he really spend that much time wasting paper?!

After excusing himself he wandered out of the adjoining room and into the main ER floor. In the admin area Munkustrap was rolling and spinning around in the office chair, humming quietly as he stabbed at the screen of his smartphone. "Is it really that dead?"

"If only," grumbled the tabby, closing the game. "Dead would be interesting. Dead would mean that someone had actually come in and I was forced to get my arse out of this chair. Say cheese."

He'd only a quick second, but Mistoffelees screwed his eyes shut and stuck his tongue out before the shutter went off. It had been a sudden new hobby of Munkustrap's, to take pictures like he was documenting for the National Geographic. "Stunning. Very photogenic."

"I do try—oh, hi Skimble!"

With a violent jerk Munkustrap nearly dropped his phone, scrambling to shove it in his pocket before peeking over the back of the office chair. To his astounding luck Skimbleshanks wasn't starting for another six hours.

"You're a cruel tom."

Mistoffelees made to speak when the quick blips of the radio sounded off on the desk behind Munkustrap. Looked like the tabby would have no more reason to complain; he picked up the microphone and picked up the line, "Montfort Trauma."

Crackles and buzzing came through, the feedback from the sirens echoing along the line. "Montfort Trauma, this is unit 94 responding to a mass casualty incident. A school bus…" there was a dip in the connection, but enough had come through to attract nearby nurses and students from the depths of boredom. Radio call-ins meant trouble, and 'mass casualty' had a cold sweat breaking across the back of his neck. Munkustrap adjusted the station and the voice cut back in. "…requesting doctors. How many can you take?"

All eyes fell to Mistoffelees: the only paediatrician on duty. If there were many critically injured he'd have to spread himself thin between the trauma rooms, though Alonzo and Munkustrap wouldn't need much supervision. "We can take five critical, ten non-life threatening to start. We'll need to call Jemima in."

"And Skimbleshanks," Alonzo added, having drifted over with the crowd. Department phone already cradled in his paw. "Not to mention all those nurses we sent home."

Munkustrap relayed the information to the paramedics and scribbled down the fuzzy details. "We're sending two doctors your way."

Two. Any going bets on who those two would be? Munkustrap signed off and plucked the MCI binder from the shelf: it would have everything they could possibly need to turn this ER into a medical highway.

Right away the crowd scattered into controlled disaster: time was limited and there was only so many hands stealing supplies from neighbouring units.

Theo and Miles would have to be transferred to Medicine to free up the beds. But right now they weren't Mistoffelees' concern and he spun on his heel to fetch the field gear from the staff room.

"Mistoffelees is staying."

Both Munkustrap and Mistoffelees whirled around at once. "What?!"

Alonzo had just finished a call and pulled another number from the registry. "We can't have our only paediatrician out of the hospital if we're taking in any critical patients."

"Jemima will be here—"

"Munk, we're the closest trauma centre to the scene. We're going to get the absolute worst of it all, and you want to chance Jemima showing up in time to see them all pull up?"

This wasn't the tabby's fight to win and he shrugged off the patched tom to brush past Mistoffelees and prepare for the ride over. There really was no time to be bickering; even Alonzo was wasting his time and breath. "We're the closest to the scene which means I'm the closest paediatrician. Kittens are hard to assess, I can make sure we get the most critical first. If not we can get a mixed bag."

Munkustrap had returned a moment later while Alonzo was calling in Jennyanydots. He was already dressed up in the windbreaker with 'DOCTOR' sprawled across the back, two yellow medipacks in paw, and an expectant look for the squabbling two. "Is Jemima on her way?"

"Well yes, but—"

"Then Mistoffelees is coming. Let's go."

If looks could kill Alonzo would be out of a job. Though hard pressed to put his foot down even he could see that it was a losing battle. "Bastards. Fine, go!"

Munkustrap carried the medipacks while Mistoffelees slipped on the too-big jacket. The fabric of his shirt caught in the zipper and he snorted to think of how he must look lost in in a tent of fabric. "Do we have any safety pins in those packs?"

"Too many," Munkustrap confirmed.

The ambulance was awaiting them in the bay. "You're the two heading up to North Line road?"

Munkustrap tossed the packs in the back and helped the tux step up onto the rig, pantleg trailing over his sneakers. "Let's go save some kits."