Disclaimer: Skimble and Tumble are copyrighted to T. S. Eliot, ALW and RUG.
Author's Note: Right. I really need to get off my lazy butt and start writing stuff that doesn't have Skimble in it for once. I think I'm too obsessed.
This one is... blimey, it's rather old. I keep finding old, lost treasures like this one in the depths of my hard drive, now I've started to actually backup my PC.
Tumble x Skimble is quite a known pairing in Japan. Plus, the names rhyme. Me loves rhyming names, because they're catchy and easy to remember.
Alright, I'll stop ranting now.
Spring.
The sun was shining bright that day, with a blue, cloudless sky.
A solitary dandelion opened its petals in the warmth of the sun. It had not flowered before, due to it being in the shade.
... Yet the others... they were already on the fluffy-seed stage. But not this one.
The flower just happened to get Tumblebrutus's attention. The golden-yellowish colour of the dandelion reminded him of the sun shining above, and he reached out a paw and mindlessly stroked it, thinking of the other thing that it reminded him of.
Skimbleshanks.
The railway cat's fur was almost exactly like the colour of the flower; golden (although his fur was more of a marmalade colour), bright and warm.
Tumble wanted to show him the flower, so he left it and ran to Skimble's side.
The older tom was splayed out in the sun, sleeping as usual. Tumble rushed to wake him up-
-and stopped.
Skimble was best left sleeping. He had work to do in the rails that night, and waking him would not do.
Tumble couldn't wake him.
He knew it perfectly - yet he felt as if his heart was breaking at the concept. By the time the orange tom awoke, the dandelion would have closed its petals, and then it would be pointless.
How wonderful he was, Tumble thought, caressing the railway tom's face gently with one paw. Skimble was so beautiful in his own way, especially when sleeping. The younger cat didn't want to spoil the charm either, so he didn't wake Skimble up.
He lay down next to the orange tom, nuzzling into his back, taking in sensations that he only could feel and want in his dreams.
Skimble, despite being a fully grown adult, was sweet, bright, charming and so innocent, like a kitten.
If only he had been one - then he wouldn't have to work in the rails.
Skimble woke just as the sun was setting. It would soon be time for him to go to work. He still had a few hours left before the Midnight Mail deaprted, and got up, stretching.
And he heard the sound of breathing next to him.
Tumblebrutus was curled up sleeping behind him, hanging on to his long, brown tail.
A soft smile appeared on Skimble's face, and gently, he freed his tail from Tumble's grasp.
The night was setting in, bright stars twinkling up in the dark sky above. The air was clear tonight, and the orange tom could see every star clearly, unlike the other nights.
It suddenly occured to him that Tumble's shiny eyes reminded him of the stars as well.
Skimble reached out a paw to wake the young tom, to show him the stars, but stopped himself.
Night-time... it was the time where kittens and young toms like Tumble needed sleep the most. The tom was still very much a kitten, and Skimble couldn't disturb his sleep.
The orange tom drew his paw back and sighed sadly, his green eyes dull with sorrow. He understood that Tumble needed his sleep, but by the time he woke up, the stars would be gone. And nights like this one would not come again for a while.
Skimble gently heaved Tumble up to his lap, and rested the tom's head on his chest. Taking off his vest, he also tucked it around the younger tom's body. It didn't matter much to Skimble - he could get another from his hut before he went to work. He raised his eyes to the stars again.
Tumblebrutus, despite being very much of a kitten, had a fully grown physique and a low, deep voice like an adult. He was also very mature - compared to other kittens like Pouncival or Etcetera, one could definitely say that Tumble was more grown up than the rest of them.
It was wrong to feel like this towards a young tom, Skimble knew. But he couldn't help it, as he stared down into the serene, sleeping face below him. Just once... maybe just once wouldn't hurt. No one would know.
And Skimble, who bent down to kiss the lips beneath him ever so tenderly, had one thought in his head the whole while; if Tumble had been, indeed, an adult, then a discreet kiss like this one would not be so wrong.
They don't actually come face to face in this one. They don't know about how the other feels. Rather underwhelming.