Several days after the dance, security was finally relaxed around the junkyard. Patrols were lessened, and the toms could finally relax a little. Mungojerrie dozed lazily on top of the rusted car. The sun felt good on his fur. Jenny and Jellyorum had ordered him to take life easy for a little while, to try and combat his stress disorder. The tabby tom stretched out, his sore muscles protesting slightly as he stretched them. There was a giggle from ground level. His eye opened a crack. There appeared to be a pair of small furballs on the ground, looking up at him. It was Rusty and Syrie, Erik's siblings. The calico queen leapt up, sitting on the tabby's chest, followed by her brother. Mungojerrie winced. "Where's Erik?" Rusty demanded. "How should I know?" Mungojerrie moaned. Rusty stamped his paws, winding the bigger cat. "Where's Erik?" the kitten asked again.
Mungojerrie tipped the kittens off of his stomach, sending them crashing to the ground. Rusty was up in a second, a scowl on his face. "Where is he?" the diminutive kitten demanded again. "I haven't a clue," Mungojerrie sighed, accepting he wasn't to be allowed to sleep. Rusty pouted. "Where did you last see him?" Syrie asked, her clear little voice seeming to tremble in the air. Mungojerrie cast his mind back. "Try Munkustrap's den," the thief finally offered. "Why would he be there?" Rusty asked in confusion. "Visiting his queenfriend," Syrie giggled. Her brother looked at her questioningly. "Oh never mind," the kitten sighed. "Thanks Jerrie," she squeaked as they raced off in the direction of the protector's den.
Mungojerrie stretched his legs before wandering off into the junkyard. Rumpleteazer was spending the day with her mother, checking up on Cassandra. In the midst of the garbage, Mungojerrie came upon Erik and Jemima. The pair were sitting on the ground, evidently deep in conversation. Mungojerrie froze. A quick sniff of the air told him he was downwind of them. His whiskers twitched as he smiled, concealing himself swiftly under the rubbish. He crept closer until he could hear them.
"I still not sure about this," Erik exclaimed. Jemima frowned at him. "Why not?" she demanded. "I've been in the tribe less than six months," Erik pointed out. "Do you really think that your father is going to approve of me…" "He loves you," Jemima said. Erik shrugged. "But he adores you. I suspect any love he has towards me will evaporate and turn into fatherly dislike in a second if we…" "I'm telling you, he likes you," Jemima stubbornly insisted. "What about your mother?" Erik asked. Jemima shrugged. "My mum likes you even more," she smiled. Erik furrowed his brow. Jemima stroked his arm delicately. "It's not as if I'm suggesting that we become mates or anything. I'm only asking you out on a date. You've already danced with me at the ball." "I know. But I'm still not sure," Erik argued. "Dancing at the ball together doesn't mean that you're in love. Look at Admetus and Etcetera. They were just together because there was no one else." Jemima scowled. "Are you saying you only danced with me because I was all that was left?" she demanded angrily. Erik swallowed nervously, backtracking quickly. "Of course not. How could you say that?" he whispered, placating her. "I love you Jemima. I'm just a little concerned as to your father's reaction if I ask his permission to take you out. It's not like we're already an official couple." Jemima perked up. "Why do you have to ask him?" she asked. "I'm not a little kitten anymore. I can be trusted to go out on my own." Erik considered this. "It just seems … respectful. Right somehow."
Mungojerrie had to contain a burst of laughter as he crept away. So Jemima and Erik were an item now? Mungojerrie still didn't understand the black tom. Sometimes he seemed like any other tom, maybe a bit mature for his age, but still normal. But every now and then another side of him shone through, a side that was paranoid, introverted and defensive. Mungojerrie supposed that it was understandable, with what he'd been through. Rusty and Syrie seemed to have adapted to Jellicle life much easier, possibly because they hadn't been forced to fight and kill like Erik.
That night, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer crept back to their human's house. The family were asleep, their snores rocking the house to its foundations. The pair let themselves in through the roof, which had long ago ceased to be waterproof. The thieves grinned to each other as they settled down on the pile of pillows and cushions that served as their bed. Rumpleteazer was gushing about how fun it had been working with her mother. "Be careful or you'll end up like her," Mungojerrie smiled. Rumpleteazer thought hard about this. "Would … Would that be so bad?" she asked. Mungojerrie frowned. "Well no, but … do you want to settle down?" he asked. Rumpleteazer shrugged. "We can't be thieves all our lives. We have to stop eventually," She pointed out. "All I've ever been is a thief, Teazer," her mate mewed. Rumpleteazer nodded in appreciation of this. Mungojerrie had been stealing for as long as he could remember, whereas she had, in the words of her parents, 'been a perfectly nice kit until she fell in with that young scoundrel.'
"So if you want to settle down … would that mean …" Mungojerrie asked tentatively. Rumpleteazer shrugged. "I don't know," was all she said. "Maybe." Mungojerrie blinked. "Really?" he asked. Rumpleteazer had always been opposed to having kits, it being one of the few matters on which the pair disagreed, alongside the age of Old Deuteronomy and whether Cricket or Rugby was the better sport. "Maybe one day," she smiled. Mungojerrie's face split into a grin as he entwined his tail with hers. "I love you," he whispered as they drifted off to sleep.
The thieves spent the next day around the house, making sure they were seen. You had to be careful with humans. If you didn't come home often enough, they assume you'd run away. Rumpleteazer had curled up in the mistress of the house's lap, playing with a ball of wool. Mungojerrie was purring contentedly on the sofa. They had wool, toys, scratches behind the ears and all the milk they could want. Despite this Mungojerrie chaffed at the confinement. He really only lived with the family for one reason, and that was Rumpleteazer. Teazer was already living with the family when he met her and ingratiating himself with them had involved infiltrating a pet store and Rumple subtly convincing the family to get another cat. Fortunately the youngest son had fallen for him upon seeing how much he looked like Rumpleteazer.
The master of the house sat down heavily next to Mungojerrie, idly stroking his head. Mungojerrie shifted slightly, half tempted to jump down and wander off. Only a look from Rumpleteazer stopped him. In many ways he had been extremely successful in converting her to a life of crime, but at the end of the day Rumpleteazer still like a bowl of milk whenever she wanted one and a warm kitchen to raid whenever she felt like it. Her mate saw humans not a source of shelter, but as a source of interesting things and entertaining prospects. Macavity stole because he was greedy, and a borderline psychopath. Mungojerrie had always taken a five fingered discount for the fun of it, or because the owners deserved it, or even if they didn't appreciate what they had. This was the case with Rumple's pearls – it had taken the daughter he had swiped them from over a month to realise they were missing. When you don't realise that a string of Woolworth's Pearls were missing for over a month, it was your own fault if they went missing, in Mungojerrie's opinion.