Practice Makes Perfect

It was almost sundown by the time he'd found the tux still lingering about the clearing, chatting by the oven with Electra and Pouncival and pretending to be impressed when the patchy kitten showed them the backwards somersault he'd been working on. Electra leaned over to whisper something in his ear and he smiled. He had a lovely smile.

A low whistle beckoned him from the tire. Tearing his gaze from his mate, Munkustrap spotted Tugger on the tire pausing his conversation with Cassandra and Rumpleteazer to give his brother an encouraging nod. Cassandra pouted, swatting at his arm gently, and Tugger turned back to indulge her with his attention.

"Good evening, Munk," Electra greeted as she passed him with a yawn. He quickly bid her a good evening as well and looked back to the oven for Mistoffelees.

Tumble had replaced the tortoise queen and had taken it upon himself to steal his attention from Pouncival too by sitting more than just a little close. Munkustrap's fur bristled when the youth had reached out to groom the tux's dusty and disheveled fur, mussed by his afternoon with the kittens.

Mistoffelees laughed at something Tumble had said; Munkustrap, however, couldn't bring himself to appreciate the joke and glared as he stalked over to the two toms.

"...Do you think you could teach me? I'd give anything to dance as beautifully as you do!"

Mistoffelees blushed. "You dance perfectly fine, Tumble. Just practice and you'll be the best dancer the tribe has ever seen." Noticing him closing in on the two, Mistoffelees ignored Tumble's insistence that he'd never be half as good as The Magical Mr. Mistoffelees and blah blah blah.

"Come on," Munkustrap said and caught Mistoffelees by the wrist to lead him out of the clearing.

"I-I'll talk to you later, then!" Tumbled called after them, not trying very hard to hide his contempt for Munkustrap’s intrusion.

They walked in silence for a long time. Munkustrap stopped a few times but he just couldn't bring himself to face Mistoffelees. Not yet. But eventually Mistoffelees began getting annoyed at being lead around the same grungy, broken appliances and dug his heels into the ground. "Munk, what are you doing?"

Munkustrap stared at him sheepishly, feeling terribly vulnerable. "I want to talk to you... about last night." The tux perked up, clearly not against the idea, and waited patiently for him to continue.

Silence hung between them for a good few minutes. Who knew crickets lived in junkyards! The problem with toms, Munkustrap noted, was that they couldn't plan out what they wanted to say ahead of time. Finally Mistoffelees' patience ran thin. "Are you going to say anything, or are you just going to stare at me--?"

"I've never taken a mate before." Munkustrap blurted.

Mistoffelees blinked, taking a moment to consider a fact he already knew. "So, what, you have trouble talking about feelings? You don't want to give up your den? Can't stand not having as much alone time? I don't follow."

"No, none of that," Munkustrap said. "I-I've never actually mated with someone... as in spent the night and..." he began waving his arms about in a way similar to ones you'd use to explain the water-cycle.

Mistoffelees didn't need a translator to figure what he was trying to say. "Oh. I see."
He smiled suddenly, a soft and simple smile that seemed to add hours of sleep to the bags under his eyes. If anything he looked more relieved than anything. "Where do we go from here then?"