Moonlit Eyes

by Waiting for my Munkustrap

I am the luckiest tom alive.

I know everyone thinks things like that, but this is different. I actually am. Oh, Everlasting Cat, how did I ever get to be this lucky? Cassandra is perfect. She is a goddess. She is my rock, my muse, my queen, my everything. She-

-is covered in six blankets with her hair all messed up and snot dripping down her face. Her moonlit eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I half expect her to cough her lungs out at any moment.

I would be lost without her.

I waddle into the bedroom, trying not to spill the cup full of soup I've prepared for my mate. I set the cup down beside the bed and sit next to her. I reach down and gently stroke her face with the back of my paw. "You are the most beautiful cat in the world."

She snorts. "I'm running a fever, Alonzo."

"It doesn't matter," I say, "because you're always so hot." I nuzzle her and she laughs.

"Stop it! You're going to get yourself sick."

"Oh yeah?"

I lean down and press my lips against hers. I can feel her smile and try to push me away. Then, she coughs on my face. "Too late, now," I say, kissing her again. I cuddle up against her and, this time, she accepts my touch.

"You're an idiot," she sighs.

She leans her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes. I hold her close, cherishing the feeling of her slender frame in my arms. She feels hot to the touch, but she's still shivering. I rub my paws along her back to try to warm her up.

"Um..." she whimpers, looking up at me apologetically. "I asked for soup?"

"Oh! Right. I- uh...almost forgot."

Well, that's embarrassing.

I sit up and retrieve the soup, while Cassandra props herself up on a couple pillows next to me. I hand her the cup, lay my arm across her shoulders, and nip at her ear. She smiles warmly. "Thank you, Alonzo."

She's the only one who always calls me by my full name. She says it's too good a name to cut short. I remember the day she told me that. I've made sure to call her Cassandra, ever since. That is, of course, when I'm not calling her princess, gorgeous, love, darling, dear...

She nestled her head beneath my chin and stirred her soup with her claw. My goodness, everything she does is so charming.

"Ugh," she groans, sniffling. "I'm so disgusting, right now."

"Cassandra..." I falter.

"Yes, dear?"

I still get butterflies, every time she calls me by a pet name.

"Even with your runny nose and bloodshot eyes and scratchy voice and annoying cough and fever that has apparently just broken because you're sweating all the way through your fur, you are still the most gorgeous, wonderful, perfect creation under the Heaviside Lair."

Cassandra hands her cup of soup back to me, and I return it to its resting place beside the bed. When I turn back to her, before I have to think, she pulls me into a deep, passionate kiss. I enjoy every second of it. When our lips finally part, she laughs. "I hope you don't mind getting sick."