Disclaimer: CATS belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, the Really Useful Group and TS Eliot.
The night was darker than usual, probably thanks to the heavy rain that had started only that afternoon. Few people were about in the streets, and fewer animals in the alleys, all in the city hoping to avoid the torrential downpour.
All that is, except for a lone cat, running as quickly as he could through the streets, and if anyone could have heard him, swearing vehemently as he ran, most of his unnoticed curses directed towards – and yet drowned out by – the foul weather conditions. Many a time he slunk under dustbins or parked cars, shivering from the cold and wet and scowling at the weather in general.
Eventually, though, he reached his destination – a long alleyway that led down to the entrance of a junkyard; a junkyard that happened to be the cat's home. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, the cat looked around, and then began to sprint down the cobblestones, not even slowing down as he crossed the threshold of the place. He stopped abruptly, however, when another cat leapt down from one of the small junk piles bordering the path, blocking his way. They looked at each other for a moment, conveying some kind of message with their eyes, and with a tilt of the head by the second cat and a confirming nod by the first, they made their way up the path, and into the heart of the junkyard, a large space free of junk piles their destination.
The two cats dashed across the main clearing, silhouettes against the pouring rain. Coming to an overhang at the far end of the clearing, they slowed down and stopped, panting and shaking the water from their fur. The lankier of the two leaned against a junk pile nearby, and said, sounding more than a little exasperated, "Well, that was a terrible homecoming. Yeesh, the weather's really got something against me, hasn't it?"
The taller one laughed, facing his friend. "It's just a little rain."
"A lot of rain's more like it, Munk. Everlast, I had to deal with those tossers for two weeks –"
"Al!"
"– and now I come home, expecting decent company and all that comes with it, and instead, I get this blimming wind, and cold, and rain."
Munkustrap snorted, smirking. "Be glad that decent company's me and not Tugger – he wouldn't have bothered coming out here once he saw the weather."
Alonzo finally laughed, brushing more water off himself. "True. How've things been?" he asked.
"The usual," Munkustrap shrugged. "Tumblebrutus and Pouncival are turning more like their brothers by the day, said brothers are making threats towards you if you do not go and see them as soon as it's light tomorrow, and the other kittens have been asking after you about ten times a day." He grinned at the semi-delighted, semi-confused look that appeared on Alonzo's face at that statement. "Take it as a compliment. How were they?"
"Like I said: bunch of tossers," Alonzo said, scowling. "That awful cat Ranian lives there now, did you know?"
Munkustrap grimaced. "Ah. Right. Your description of them makes a bit more sense now. Is he still –"
"An utter douche? Worse. He recognised me, and believe me, it wasn't easy keeping myself from clawing at his stupid little –"
"Al!"
Alonzo breathed out slowly, releasing the tension that had built up in his shoulders. "Sorry. He irks me. And I haven't been getting much sleep at night, either, so… no rest from the wicked."
"You haven't been sleeping?" Munkustrap echoed, concern crossing his face. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Alonzo said quickly, looking to change the subject. "Is anyone on watch at the moment, by the way? I didn't see anyone as I came in."
"Um… There should be… Oh no…" Munkustrap trailed off, looking down sheepishly.
Alonzo smirked. "I don't believe this. The great Protector Munkustrap, who I do believe is the most organised cat in this tribe, forgetting to have someone on –"
"Shut up!" Munkustrap snapped. "I – I was distracted, alright? I knew you were coming back sometime this week, and so I just thought I'd do it instead."
"Sometime this week? Munk, how much vaguer can you get? How many nights have you been up?"
"I don't know! Two, three, maybe?"
"Tell me it's four and maybe I'll believe you."
"Five, you happy?"
"Yes. Goodnight, then," Alonzo said, starting to move out into the rain.
"Wait," Munkustrap said, catching Alonzo by the arm, and making him look at Munkustrap in surprise. "Where are you going?"
"Watch, where do you think I'm going?"
"I'd have hoped bed," Munkustrap said, frowning. "Look, it's pouring outside, and you're tired. Don't, Al," he continued, as Alonzo rolled his eyes. "You've only just come back, you look beat and you've just been saying that you can't sleep, plus you've had to deal with Ranian of all cats, and I think you ought to –"
"Says the insomniac. Munkus, if anyone needs sleep, it's you. Five nights? Even you have to admit that's getting a little extreme."
"You can't – you've just been saying –"
"Munkustrap, might I just point out a fundamental difference between you and me? For the past few nights, I haven't – yikes. I can't sleep, temporarily. You don't sleep, ever. Since apparently no one's on watch tonight, I'm taking it." When Munkustrap made no move other than to raise an eyebrow pointedly in his direction, Alonzo sighed, then gave his friend a little shove in the chest. "Shoo. Go back to your den, or I'll carry you there. Drag you, actually. Go."
Smiling even as he shook his head, Munkustrap left, heading back into the pounding rain, and with a last look in the other cat's direction, Alonzo did the same. After all, it was worth a little spat with Munkustrap to hear his voice again, and to try and ease his mind of the thoughts that had been plaguing it the past several nights. He had reassurance that his friends were safe and hale, he was back in his home, and life in the junkyard would go on as it ever had.
If he himself was still alive after a night in the accursed rain, of course.
Although, he thought, he could probably keep watch – which after all was hardly necessary most nights – just as well under the little overhang. And so he ducked back underneath it, and proceeded to do just that.
Alonzo yawned as he slumped into his den in the small hours of that morning. Though he had been loath to admit it to Munkustrap, taking the night watch had done no favours for his increasing tiredness, and he knew his presence would be expected by Admetus, Plato and probably countless others not much later that day after so long an absence.
The interior of his den looked very welcoming and comfortable, however, and without quite realising how he had done it, he found himself sitting leaning back against the wall, eyelids heavy. An hour, he thought foggily, fighting to keep his eyes open. I can sleep for an hour, and that'll do me. Just an hour, and that'll be… enough… I think… just… just one…
He could feel a strange sensation on his head – a light pressure moving around his scalp, catching his headfur and twisting it round. It came to light that there was something behind him now that he was partially resting on, where there had not been anything at his falling asleep.
Falling asleep!
No, he thought to himself hazily. I didn't… not for long, anyway… He forced his eyes to open a little, and through the gap in his eyelids he could see bright sunlight outside – the sort that he associated with mid-afternoon, not a mere hour after sunrise.
He knew inside that he should be panicking, complete with shouting out a copious number of profanities, and that after that he ought to be trying to get awake properly, and getting outside and finding his friends, who had evidently made no secret of the fact that they had wanted to see him as soon as possible or else once he got back.
But he did not even try opening his eyes much more, for he felt very comfortable lying right where he was, thank you very much, and threats which would probably turn out to be idle in any case couldn't really hurt him there with someone else behind him. Speaking of which…
Opening his eyes a fraction more, he glanced down, and saw below his head a silver leg, folded in front of its owner and acting as a pillow for his head. He closed his eyes again, confused beneath his sleep-wanting haze. What was Munkustrap doing in his den, seeing as he was just sleeping, and why hadn't the Protector made any effort to wake him up?
And when the sensation that had brought him to waking mode in the first place started up again, it brought another question – why was Munkustrap fondling his headfur?
He would have pondered these internal queries further, perhaps even asked Munkustrap about them out loud, but the comforting motion and his own tiredness overcame him again, and he slipped back into slumber.
When he awoke again however, the next morning, feeling far more refreshed and slightly alarmed that he had slept for a full twenty-four hours, Munkustrap was gone. And somehow, he didn't quite feel it would be appropriate to bring up the previous afternoon's situation.
So he didn't.
Author's note
This is the second instalment of the Insomnia 'verse, and quite possibly one of my favourite things that I've written. I don't normally go in for writing romance, but this... well, it just happened. And then I promptly fell in love with the pairing. The end.
~JV