A/N: You know when you have a huge crush on someone? Or you're sure you've found the love of your life in a boyfriend or girlfriend?
Well, for the most part, we're deluding ourselves.
Keep that in mind whilst reading the shameless fluff that is this chapter.
Also, I apologize for the slight delay, life comes first. I wrote this on my iPod at about midnight, which took me a good hour to slowly tap out and check over for mistakes (though there were almost certainly be a few, I'm tired). So though it may be sickeningly fluffy, I put effort into it. D8 And why are all of my contest entries always so filled with fluff? And how did I write 1100 words on my iPod? I thought it was about 700... -frets-
I'd better shut up.
Day 3 - Frost and Flowers (spark word – flowers)
Tumblebrutus felt that he was innocent. He'd simply been minding his own business when the news bounded up and bowled him over, leaping atop his startled, bowled-over body and beaming down at him.
"So, I hear that you're in an intimate relationship," Etcetera announced, pinning him to the ground by his arms.
"Who told you this?" Tumblebrutus questioned, tone almost indifferent. He was well used to rumors being flung about within the Jellicles, though picking out truth from fantasy was often a difficult thing. He'd been accused of raping Jemima once, but that rumor was fast dispelled, by their mothers as well as he and Jemima themselves. Surely this would be nothing.
"Hmm... It was Jemi, but someone else told her," Etcetera said decisively after a while of thought. "Now, do tell, Tumble..." Here it comes, Tumblebrutus thought. Who's the lucky queen, have you kissed her, do you love her? "Are you having great sex? How does it feel?" Etcetera burst out, clasping her hands together behind her back and flashing her teeth in her classic "monster" style.
If Tumblebrutus had been eating at that moment, he would've quite easily choked and died. As it was, he choked on his own spit.
"No, no, no!" Tumblebrutus rasped, trying to recover from the figurative blow of her words. "Where are you getting these ideas from, Etcy? I'm clean! Pure!"
"Oh." Etcetera pursed her lips and stood back a little, allowing Tumblebrutus to get to his feet. "Never mind, then. So, who's the queen?"
"Not even I know," Tumblebrutus shrugged mildly. "This is the first I've heard of my supposed relationship."
"Argh," Etcetera huffed. "Come on, Tumblebrutus."
And so the two were off on an adventure - interrogating Jemima and using their fine detective instincts to get to the bottom of this mystery.
...or so Etcetera said.
Near the end of winter was Tumblebrutus' favorite time to be at the Junkyard. During summer, the sunlight soaked into the metallic surfaces all around and bounced about, making Tumblebrutus feel all too uncomfortable even with his fur at its thinnest. Many - including Pouncival - preferred autumn, autumn which signified the dancing among red and gold crackling rain and rolling in soft piles of leaves.
But Tumblebrutus preferred the line between winter and spring, when warmth began nudging the chill away and fur began to shed again. When blankets of frost settled across the Junkyard but there was no longer any dirt-encrusted, city-tainted snow. When birds hummed tentatively but didn't drown out the dawn, when life crawled back out into the open but didn't overwhelm him. When tiny flowers pushed their way out into the chilly air and brightened the dull landscape with their vibrancy and perfume.
Tumblebrutus thought about these flowers as he drew patterns on a frost-covered car door. Etcetera and Jemima were arguing with heated passion behind him, tinting the atmosphere in shades of loud, burning colours. But Tumblebrutus didn't mind the noise. He was deeply engrossed in his drawings and the way the frost gradually covered them. And right on the ground next to the spot he knelt upon was a tiny, bumblebee yellow flower, the first of its kind that Tumblebrutus had seen so far. He glanced down at it fondly every so often.
"Hey, it was Electra who told me anyway," Jemima snapped.
"I thought you were trying to tell me because you were in a relationship with him and you wanted to tell me about the sex you were having!" Etcetera groaned, smacking get forehead.
Behind him, Tumblebrutus heard Jemima spit something out - probably gum, that was the in thing these days, right? Otherwise she was spitting out her own... Spit. Tumblebrutus shrugged and returned to his drawing.
"No, Etcetera, did I even hint that?" Jemima sputtered.
"Hm... No, not really," Etcetera admitted sheepishly.
"Ladies, what appears to be the problem here?"
The voice was so deep and solemn that Tumblebrutus immediately assumed that Munkustrap had appeared on the scene. So when he turned and saw Pouncival, lowering his voice in an almost perfect imitation of the Protector, his reaction was not a very calm one. Halfway through breathing, Tumblebrutus' breath hitched.
Electra, of course, chose the perfect moment to bob out from behind Pouncival and say, "Excited to see him, huh, Tumble?"
Tumblebrutus turned away. "That's not worth dignifying with a response," he said prissily, lifting his nose and continuing intently with his drawing.
"We were just discussing Tumble's lovelife," Etcetera chirped enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to their interactions.
Pouncival made a strange, keening sort of a laugh. "Oh, really now?"
"I don't suppose you could tell us more?" Jemima said in her most sugary tone.
"Unfortunately not," Pouncival said with a deep sigh. "But to make up for it, I give thy lovely ladies..." He paused, obviously searching for some sort of appropriate gift. "Aha!" he burst out finally.
And then, Tumblebrutus stiffened. Pouncival was kneeling beside him, leg brushing his own, shoulder to shoulder, soft, coarse fur... and Tumblebrutus' tail was on end.
"Mind if I just grab your friend here?" Pouncival asked quietly, bouncing on the heels of his feet. He rested a hand on Tumblebrutus' knee (for balance, perhaps?) and Tumblebrutus, with some strange burning feeling, saw that he was still wearing the ribbon, though it had been ripped into less embarrassing shape. And then, numbly, Tumblebrutus watched as Pouncival pinched the stem of the little yellow flower between two fingers and plucked it from the frosty soil. A feeling of surreal panic washed over him and immediately, he tore the flower from Pouncival's fist. Their fingers brushed together - Pouncival's hand was very warm.
But the flower was picked, now. There would be no restoring it to its original spot. Tumblebrutus gazed at the velvety petals mournfully. The life it could've had...
"Gee, Tumble," Pouncival said softly. His familiar voice was very new, ringing in Tumblebrutus' mind. "I had no idea you were such a fan of flowers." Eyes filled with a quiet kind of seriousness that was a strange expression on him, Pouncival wrapped his own hands around Tumblebrutus' so that they both held the flower.
They seemed so alone together.
"I like them," Tumblebrutus mumbled, voice so muffled by churning emotions it came out as a breathy whisper.
"I can... look after it," Pouncival suggested. His gaze made Tumblebrutus feel as if he was going to lose everything. Mind, heart, memory... it was all consuming, overwhelming. And he had felt this in tiny spurts before, nudging thoughts, tingles of emotion, but never quite this.
Tumblebrutus clenched his fingers a little tighter. "Together. We'll care for the flower... We'll... Together."
Pouncival nodded, the movement causing them to somehow be pressed a little closer together.
And in his head, Tumblebrutus had already made Pouncival the brightest, sweetest early-spring flower.