literature

For What It's Worth Chp. 8

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It was merely two weeks away from the expected due date and things were getting pretty tense. Demeter and Munkustrap had patched things up and were more or less on even ground.

Mistoffelees, however, found no solace in the reunion or the lightened load on his body. If anything, he was even more uncomfortable and miserable. Finding the extra space useful, the remaining kits just grew bigger, faster. Much of his days were spent in his bed moaning and writhing in pain.

Few of Jenny's remedies helped alleviate the pain; those that did help quickly dissipated and his body grew resistance. Despite his best efforts, Munkustrap's massages and deliveries of pork rhines and thick pillows could only offer so much comfort.

Victoria visited almost everyday, trying her best to ease her brother's plight by taking his mind off the pain with mindless chit-chat, but her efforts were in vain.

One evening while Munkustrap and Demeter were in bed, Mistoffelees came to the door, his knocking loud and hurried. Assuming that the tux was up in a bout of restlessness, they decided to let the tom think they were asleep and wait until he moved on. The strained call of the tabby's name and even more urgent knocking eventually dragged him out of bed to answer the door with a tired and slightly irritated huff.

Blinking in the light pooling from the hallway, he sighed, "What is it, Misto?-"

"I don't feel well, Munk," the tux groaned, gritting his teeth as he tried to bite back a hiss, his fangs bared.

Closing the door behind him, he swiftly stepped in closer so that Demeter wouldn't overhear in case of a misunderstanding. "What's wrong?" he whispered harshly, pressing an inquiring hand to the very large bump between them.

"Okay..." he began, catching his breath to explain the situation in full. "Remember how the instructor said that when the kits come, there's this-" he was cut short when a low groan had him doubling over, gripping the other's arm for support.

"Yes? Go on!" the tabby urged, hoping to somehow focus the young tom.

He grimaced sharply before straightening up a bit. "-There's nothing there! But... the cramps..."

"Contractions?" The tux nodded weakly, stray tears slipping down his cheeks. Munkustrap's eyes widened in shock: he was going to be a father? Tonight?

Adrenalin kicking in, he reached back and nearly swung the door off its hinges. "Demeter, we have to go!"

Alarmed by the urgency and tone of her mate's voice, she snapped up to look at the two toms in her doorway; Mistoffelees cringing and curling into himself behind Munkustrap's agitated form.

Realization kicked in almost instantly. "We... we have to go! Yes! I'll get the bag, go ahead to Jenny's!" Nearly landing flat on her face, she untangled herself from the blankets and lunged for the closet.

Gripping the black tom's elbow, he began to lead the hissing tom to the Gumbie cat's den. Mistoffelees stopped suddenly.

"I need to get something from my room," he gasped, turning back towards his door as they shuffled past the kitchen.

Munkustrap looked from him to the hallway, then to the rippling and rolling bump of the tux's stomach. Indecision instantly plagued him. He really didn't want to waste time backtracking, especially since his kittens could be in distress and Mistoffelees could be wasting precious energy used for delivery. Looking at the groaning tom, he saw the fear and pain. "What do you need?" he sighed hurriedly. "I'll run and get it. What do you need?"

"My shawl. The green one."

Immediately recognizing the description, he bolted from the young tom's side to the dreary and dark room. Stumbling over to the bed, it took less than a minute to find the still warm and soft fabric sitting on his pillow.

Sprinting back to the tuxed tom, he found the black cat trudging slowly down the dark, dirty path past the door. Demeter screamed in frustration from the room behind him, complaining about how she couldn't find the diapers and wipes in the bag they've prepared.

It took moments before he caught up to the tux and resumed helping him towards the clearing.

When the gold queen had met up with them, Mistoffelees was bent over in pain and barely trudging along, too tired and sore to go on any further. "Let's just go back and get Jenny to come over, Munkustrap. It would be a lot faster," she noted from Mistoffelees' other side as he was bent over in another set of contractions.

"It's too risky; Jenny needs her equipment, and Cat knows we're not prepared to host a complicated birth." The tuxed tom's knees gave way beneath him, sending Demeter down to her knees and nearly pulling Munkustrap to the ground with them.

"Do something!"

Taking a chance, the tabby brushed his mate from her grip on the whimpering tom's arm, and gathered the awkward cat into his arms before lifting and starting down the trodden road. Squirming and panting, Mistoffelees clung fiercely to the older cat's shoulders for support, burying his head in the silver-furred neck.

"Keep breathing, Mistoffelees," Munkustrap encouraged, grunting in effort as he hoisted the tux in his hold; his back already protesting against his heavy and awkward charge. The only response was the weak nod against his shoulder and a stuttered breath.

Demeter ran ahead to warn the old queen, leaving the two toms to shuffle slowly after her. It took them less than fifteen minutes of leaving the den to get Mistoffelees to Jenny and Skimble's door.

By then, the black tom had all but passed out; drooling and breathing heavy into Munkustrap's ear. Munkustrap swallowed hard and bit back the urge to stop and shake the tux awake. Something had to be wrong. When they rounded the corner to the elder cats' den, he immediately spotted Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks waiting for them.

"Where's Demeter?" Munkustrap asked as he was led inside and towards the separate infirmary. Upon the tabby queen's orders, he laid the tux down on a rather uncomfortable bed with stiff, white sheets and a pathetically thin and useless pillow.

Flicking on the lights, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "I sent her to get Jellylorum; I'll need all the help I can get. Now let's take a look..."

At the change in position, followed by the sudden bright light shone in his face, Mistoffelees quickly came to. His head swimming and spinning as he tried to keep himself conscious. He tried to roll over onto his side, but he was made to lie back down on his back.

His vision soon cleared and he was met with Jenny's sombre face as she loomed over his midsection. The pressure on his stomach was much too harsh when she began to poke, press, and prod.

"What's wrong? Is it time yet?" came his own voice, shaky and uneasily distant.

In the dark shadow of the aged queen's face, he caught the slight furrow in her brow... the flash of worry in her eyes. The pressure on his belly lifted so she could gently flatten the fur on his shoulder. "I... I'm not quite sure yet, dear. But I'm afraid we might have to move them along sooner than we'd hoped."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Munkustrap whispered beside him. Stealing a glance at the tabby, Misroffelees caught the scariest sight: the silver tom watching the wise queen with desperate, pleading eyes. His eyes so wide and glassy Mistoffelees would have sworn they were melting down onto his cheeks. They would have to of been melting since Munkustrap never cried.

Jenny sighed lowly, tracing a light claw through her patient's fur. "No. It's not. But if we're to have any chance of any of them surviving, the sooner the better."

Mistoffelees' heart leaped and tumbled in his chest. Any chance of survival? That meant he was more likely than not to die... and his kits? There was no way he'd come this far to have all his hard work go to waste.

Through the steady pounding in his chest, and the hazy buzzing-swimming feeling in his head, the only thing he could think of was his sister. She'd visited after the miscarriage, but since he'd caught her with Plato things haven't been the same. Surely he couldn't risk leaving with her mad at him. "I want my sister," he croaked below them. "Can you get Victoria? Please?"

A couple moments. Sucking back as much air as he could, Munkustrap straightened his spine as much as possible before nodding. "I'll go."

Turning to leave, he caught sight of the long forgotten shawl. It lie limp and lifeless on the floor like an uncharacteristic pile of vomit. Daintily, he picked it up and shook off the excess dirt before gently draping it over the shuddering belly.

Though his good intentions, Mistoffelees found it near impossible to stop crying long enough to manage anything. Victoria, equally teary eyed, sat dutifully by his side, clutching his hand for support and riding out the waves of emotion with him.

"...And... And I know how much Plato means to you," Mistoffelees sniffled, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "So I want you to know that I'm okay if you two want to become mates. He's really a good tom and I shouldn't have threatened to hit him-"

"It's alright, it's kept him in-line," Victoria blurted, wiping away at stray tears every few seconds. "But I'm so sorry I freaked out..." her voice broke, sending her into a fit of sobs.

They held each other in the harsh glow of the hanging lamp above the "surgery" table. Around them, Jelly and Jenny set up the room with anything they'd need to birth such fragile, high-risk kittens. Munkustrap watched from the corner as the two siblings, best friends for as long as he could remember them, reconciled for possibly the last time.

An unshakable lump of guilt lodged painfully in his throat when the 'I'm sorry's and 'Forgive me's turned to 'Don't leave me' and, eventually, 'Goodbye'. He knew the only way he'd feel the least bit better would be for both Misto and the kits to survive. For Victoria's sake (and his sanity) he sure hoped all would end well.

Jenny finally had enough of trying to politely shoo the young queen out and ended up having to pry them apart and wrestle her out of the room. He could still hear her hysterical crying out in the main portion of the den.

"Are you almost ready, love?" Jelly smiled calmly, guiding the heavy, white-furred legs into position on the bed.

"I was... I was wondering..." The three turned to the cowering tabby in the corner. "Can I have a minute?"

The midwives nodded curtly. Shuffling aside to make way; busying themselves with last-minute business of their own: making a nice, hot cup of tea.

Neither of the toms spoke for what seemed like an impossibly long time for tea. While Mistoffelees searched for some sort of comment aside from 'You did this to me, you bloody bastard!' Munkustrap busied himself with one last moment with his unborn kits.

Mistoffelees decided he'd be first to speak. "Munk, I-" he was cut short when a set of firm, slightly dry lips mashed into his. Stunned, the tux lie there frozen in shock for a few moments while Munkustrap worked them into a passionate kiss.

Slowly but surely he gained enough wits about him to bring his hands up to gently cup the other tom's face. He could feel the trails of tears on his cheeks. Cautiously, he melted into him and relished his first, and potentially last, kiss. It wasn't as romantic as he'd imagined, but it was just as real.

Just as the first taste of his kittens' father met him, the tabby pulled away. "I'm so sorry, Mistoffelees. I never wanted to hurt you," came the breathy moan.

With their faces so close together, lips barely touching, the tux almost missed what he had said. He almost forgot why they were soaking each other with tears and not at home lying next to each other in bed. He swore he would cherish one last night with Munkustrap. Maybe then they could fall in love because they wanted to and not because they were about to become parents. But you know what they say about wishful thinking...

"Just be here to greet our kits," Mistoffelees smiled, kissing the silver tom with as much adrenaline-pumping passion. Anchoring his fingers in the silky headfur, he pulled his partner in deeper as he swirled his tongue over the warm, wet heat of foreign flesh. He'd rather remember the Protector as his first blind encounter with love than the tom who ended his life.
Good news: I'm definitely finishing this story. Hell, It's my top priority now. This baby will be written faster than any of you can guess my middle name!

Now that I'm back in the writing biz (great thanks to Delphicoracle-Cat for her support and the writing-enabling teachings of my writer's craft class) Who would be interested in another Munkustrap/Misto story? Okay... how about a week-long marathon of smexy slash couple oneshots? I'm only doing business days because I have a life.

Maybe the top commenter will get to decide one of the couple I should do :) *hint hint
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Delphicoracle-Cat's avatar
Oh gosh darn it, do I EVER love this story. It's so wonderful and Misto and Munk have slowly (and tragically) fallen in love. I'm very excited for the next chapter, dear, as you know. ;)