Victoria ran a brush through Jemima's chestnut-red-and-black fur. "One more night till the Jellicle ball," she said dreamily.

"I know. It went by so fast!"

Victoria paused to pull a tuft of black out of her fur. "So. Electra gave in to Tumble?"

"He has all the subtlety of a brick wall," Misto called from the other room. Jemima smiled broadly. The white queen scratched her shoulder affectionately.

"And Plato and Etcy...?"

Jemima laughed. "Since he was following her everywhere, as he put it, to 'make sure she wasn't up to anything' it wasn't hard to see."

Misto appeared next to Victoria's shoulder. "They were meant to be."

Jemima said, "Surely you don't harbor any bad feelings toward Plato?"

The tuxedo tom shook his head. "Of course not." But with Misto, one could never tell. Jemima suspected he was unduly relieved that Plato had discovered Victoria's sister.

"And you and Pouncival?" Victoria asked, cautiously.

Jemima's heart pounded. She was sure even Victoria could hear it. "Very good, thanks."

"And you and he are...going out?"

"Tonight," Jemima beamed.

"Speak of the devil," said Misto.

Jemima and Victoria both looked expectantly out the den's entrance.

Tugger was passing by, with Bombalurina.

Jemima looked at Misto. He gave that impish smile. "What? I did say 'the devil'."

"Brotherly love," Victoria said, rolling her eyes.

"I reserve the right," Misto said. "He did try to feed me to a flock of pigeons when I was a kitten." Victoria flung her arms around Misto's neck, looking horrified. But Jemima giggled.

"I'm sure he'll get payback when he has kittens of his own."

Misto's face grew dreamy. "And just think of all the things Uncle Mistoffelees and Uncle Munkustrap will teach them…" He sighed happily.

"And Auntie Demeter," Jemima added.

Misto sighed, even more happily.

"Jemi? Are you ready?" Pouncival stood in the doorway, grinning.

She jumped up, knocking the brush from Victoria's paws. "Ready!" She saw Victoria share an amused glance with her mate, but ignored them. She walked over and took Pounce's arm.

They wandered under the twilight moon, which was almost as fat as the full moon coming for the Jellicle Ball tomorrow night, and showing very brightly against the dark blue sky. Very few stars were out. Pouncival threaded his fingers with Jemima's.

They didn't speak until they reached the large black drain-pipe at the southern end of the junkyard. Pouncival saw it and whistled.

"So this is where you always escaped to."

"I tried," she giggled. "You wouldn't believe how popular this spot is."

"I like it already," he declared, climbing on top of the pipe and reaching to lift her up. She lifted her paw and he pulled her onto his lap. They laughed, a bit awkwardly.

"Sorry, I overshot," Pounce said, scooting to make room.

Jemima settled next to him.

Pounce hesitated, and then slid his arm around her shoulders. Jemima scooted into him, pressed flush against his side. Being small, she fit perfectly under his arm.

They were silent again. But it was a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Pounce said, "You know, you have the most beautiful voice."

Jemima smiled happily.

"When you sing, I like, can't breathe."

She punched his side. "Well, that's not good."

"No!" he protested, "it just makes my brain melt."

"We can't afford that, either!"

"Smarty-cat," Pounce wrapped his other arm around her. "When did you get so biting?"

"Biting?" Jemima said, feigning shock. "I'm not the one who 'bites', Pouncival."

"True," he agreed. He sighed. "But seriously, my favorite thing is to hear you sing. Well, one of my favorite things."

Jemima blushed more hotly than ever. "We're not mates yet, Pounce."

"Don't I know it," he muttered into her neck. "Oh yeah," he added, in a casual tone, "I was wondering..."

His eyes twinkled at her. Jemima waited.

"Would you like to go to the Jellicle Ball with me? Officially? As my mate-I mean, date-or did I mean 'mate'?"

"Of course!" she said.

"Wait, as a date or mate?"

"Well, which one did you mean?" Jemima blushed.

"I-" Pounce paused. "Well," he said carefully, "Date for now. And later...well...if you want? I mean, I know I'm kind of an idiot sometimes..."

Jemima chirped, "Yes, Pounce. Yes to all three." She snuggled back into his side.

His crooked grin was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. He leaned back with relief and said, "How did this ever happen? You-me-Heavyside, Jemima, you're practically perfect and you want me..."

She elbowed him. "Oh, stop. I was a mess until I knew you wanted me."

"I do, I do," he assured her, nuzzling her neck again. "Hey, will you sing something for me? It is our two-month anniversary. Dating anniversary. Y'know. And your voice...y'know."

Jemima thought hard. She pulled away from him and slid off the pipe. Facing him, she sang sweetly:

"But I only like what I find for myself…"

Pouncival's grin lit up the night. He jumped down next to her.

"But I only like—" he stepped behind her and wrapped a paw around her waist, the other trailing up her throat—"what I find for myself," he finished softly, finger tracing her bottom lip, gray eyes gazing into brown ones.

The intensity was there, but this time there was no hesitation. Poucival leaned in and claimed her lips with his own.

The kiss was worth the wait. Jemima had never felt something quite so powerful. It drained and filled her at once. But before if could linger, she broke away.

"No," she breathed saucily.

Pounce groaned. "Oh, that's just cruel, Jemi! Really cruel."

She smiled fully and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her paws through his headfur.

"Sneak attack," she said, and went for the kill.