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He was staring. Tumblebrutus knew he was staring but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. The words were echoing around inside his head as he stared up at the three cats still stood atop the tire as the first rays of sun broke across the yard.
Up there, framed by her father and grandsire, she stood. Jemima – his Jemima – the next Jellicle Leader.
She looked so small. So tiny, dwarfed by Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy.
Jemima would be the next Jellicle Leader.
He supposed it made sense, considering her lineage, but he’d always just assumed that Old Deuteronomy would live forever. Or at least until well after Tumble himself had passed. He’d lived this long after all. Grandfather Gus, who had been chosen at the previous year’s ball, had been younger than Old Deuteronomy and he’d been ancient. If Old Deuteronomy could out live Gus then surely he could outlive all of them.
And yet there they were, listening as their ancient leader declared that as of the next Jellicle Ball, one year from now, Jemima would become the Jellicle Leader and Old Deuteronomy would ascend to the Heaviside Layer. Pride and grief warred upon Munkustrap’s face from where he stood beside his only daughter, one large paw resting reassuringly on her shoulder. Tumble knew that his own face probably looked much the same.
As the last strings of their song rang out Tumble swallowed, trying to fight down his panic. What did this make him now? He wasn’t even sure he and Jemima were officially mated. They’d always just kind of existed together. The collar that Tumble had worn every day for the last three years had been a gift from a tiny kitten with a crush on her best friend’s older brother, not a serious proposal gift.
“Tumble! Tumble! Tumble! Wake up Tumble!”
Tumblebrutus groaned as his eyes fluttered open to find a very excited Jemima bouncing on the spot in front of his nose.
“Tumble, wake up!” She insisted again, shoving at his shoulder with both front paws. Her words were somewhat muffled by the piece of leather clamped between her needle-like teeth, but the small reddish kitten had always had a way of making herself understood. “Get up, get up, get up! Look what I got you!”
Tumble blinked, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to focus on the little queen and not the blindingly bright sunshine reflecting off of the glass of the car’s window.
“What you got there?” He asked, used to the younger kitten’s excited nature.
“It’s for you!” She repeated, dropping it on the rusty metal in front of his paws as he sat up. Probably so she could keep talking at an even faster rate. “Mum told me the story of how her and Aunty Bomba exchanged collars before deciding to have Electra and how it means they’ll be together forever and always look after each other and never not love each other and so I got you one because that’s just like us and how we’ll always be best friends and take care of each other and stuff.”
Tumble stared for a long moment at the black leather band that contrasted sharply with the reddish brown of the car boot. A collar. Not one of her toys or a dead mouse or some other interesting thing she’d found around the junkyard and decided he’d be impressed by, but an actual real to Everlasting Cat collar.
“Um…” Tumble stumbled over his words, “did you get your other friends one? What about Pounce?”
“Pfft no,” Jemima huffed dismissively, “he’s an icky tom. I caught him eating a snail this morning.”
Tumble snorting, thinking that sounded perfectly in character for his little brother.
“And the others…” Jemima shrugged, “well, they’re not my special friend and Mum said collars are only for special friends. Like Mum and Aunty Bomba. Do you like it?”
Tumble tried very hard to not let any of his confusion and panic show on his face. She was just a little kit, and always so sweet to everyone. She just assumed this was a nice gift that just meant they were extra special friends, and he supposed that was what a collar meant just usually with a more adult connotation.
“Do you?” She asked again, eyes wide.
Tumble looked back down at the collar before carefully picking it up to examine it. It was just a very traditional black collar with small silvery studs along its length. Nothing extravagant, like the Rum Tum Tugger’s collar, nor particularly pretty like Victoria’s or Cassandra’s. At least it wouldn’t draw too much attention.
“I didn’t get you one,” he said, trying to buy himself time to figure out how to deal with this situation, “aren’t you supposed to swap them?”
“That’s ok,” Jemima chirped, bouncing on her toes, “you can just get me one later. I don’t mind. You can just wear mine until then.”
He’d worn it, of course. She was so young and sweet and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She thought it was a friendish gift. He’d just explained to anyone who asked what had happened, and then had a quiet word with Demeter and asked her to explain the actual meaning of collars to her daughter so he could stop wearing it without her asking questions. He’d thought she’d just be a little embarrassed for a while and then move on to other things, instead, she’d decided that the traditional meaning behind collars was stupid and that she preferred her own. And then, naturally, she’d demanded that he get her one and being the push over that he was he’d done as he was told by a kit almost half his age.
“Sorry it took so long,” he apologised, “I wanted to get you one that matched your mother’s and your Aunt Bomba’s.”
“And Uncle Tugger’s.”
Tumble suppressed a smile. Jemima had just recently discovered the delights of the Rum Tum Tugger and was now his tiniest fan. Tumble himself had made the same discovery just over a year ago when he was about Jemima’s age. Tugger had always favoured Jemima, but it was only now that she’d realised that having that favour gave her a certain amount of prestige amongst her peers.
“Yes, and Tugger’s,” Tumble agreed, “now you all match. You’ll be the coolest kitten in the junkyard.”
She grinned at him for a moment before flinging her arms around his waist and hugging him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! I’m gonna go show Electra. She’ll be so jealous!”
Looking around now Tumble found Electra standing on one side of a very weepy looking Demeter. Her other mother, Bombalurina, was standing on Demeter’s other side, one paw resting reassuringly on her mate’s shoulder. Tumble knew that Demeter had always felt like she didn’t really deserve a place in the junkyard, despite having a daughter with the head protector. Tumble hoped that now, what with her being the mother of the future Jellicle Leader, she would finally accept that she belonged with them.
Cats were moving now. Some, like George and Tantomile, this year’s unusual and rather surprising mated pair, were disappearing off to find their beds. Others, like Mistoffelees and Tugger were attempting to wrangle their own child into calming down and getting some sleep. Little Mephisto was hard to deal with at the best of times, let alone when he’d been up all night and was hyped up on all the excitement of his first Jellicle ball. Still more were standing around talking, or rushing to congratulate Jemima.
Tumblebrutus however, was glued to the spot.
How did this happen? When was this decided? Had Jemima known before tonight? Why didn’t she tell him? Surely if they were anything serious she would have told him. Maybe that meant they weren’t official. Maybe whatever they had had just been a casual thing, something fun but that didn’t really mean anything long-term. Maybe now that she was going to be the Jellicle Leader she’d want someone else, some more.
Tumble didn’t have low self-esteem by any means. He knew he was a fairly good looking tom. He was strong, and was officially a protector now. But he wasn’t respectable, or the best at anything besides pulling stupid stunts and making people smile. He wasn’t the strongest, or the bravest, or the smartest or fastest. He was just… Tumblebrutus.
His fathers were there then. Skimble clapped him on the back as Asparagus shook his head in disbelief.
“Jellicle Leader, who would have thought?”
“Well who else was it going to be?” Skimble asked, giving Tumble a squeeze around the shoulder as he spoke to his oldest mate.
“Honestly, I had just assumed that Old Deuteronomy would be our leader until the day I died,” Asparagus replied as Tumble finally dragged his eyes away from Jemima who was now being swarmed by well-wishers. “After all, he was old when I first arrived at the junkyard and he’s been the leader since you were born. I don’t think there is anyone alive who remembers a time before he was leader.”
“But now your little Jemima is going to be leader!” Skimble said enthusiastically to him. “Can you believe it? It’s amazing. You’ll be-”
Tumble saw the sudden shake of Asparagus’ head and the significant head tilt towards Tumble himself that silenced Skimble mid-sentence.
“Do you… do you want to go speak to her?” Asparagus asked instead of whatever it was Skimble had been going to say.
Tumblebrutus shook his head. “No. There’ll be a million cats wanting to talk to her right now. I’ll speak to her later, when things have calmed down. Now I just want to go to bed.”
Tumble knew the exact look Skimble would be giving Asparagus at that moment, even though he himself was looking down at the dirt under his paws. He was suddenly so tired. He couldn’t watch as Jemima was lifted up onto Tugger’s shoulders to be paraded around the now light junkyard. Nor as Demeter cried into Old Deuteronomy’s shoulder. He just wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep.
Asparagus patted him on the back and turned him away from the spectacle. Slowly Tumble made his way back to his den. The den he usually shared with Jemima, but he knew it would be a long time before she came home this morning.
Jemima was perched atop the old rusted out car, Old Deuteronomy sat beside her, both of them in deep conversation. Tumblebrutus watched from the other side of the yard, trying to nap in the sun and failing dismally.
They hadn’t spoken when she’d come home late afternoon the day after the ball. Tumble may have pretended to be asleep so he didn’t have to think of something to say to her. When he’d gotten up the following day she was still sound asleep, snoring at a much greater volume then her size would lead you to believe possible. After how long she’d been awake, and how emotionally draining the night must have been, Tumble wasn’t surprised she had still been dead to the world. He’d gone out and hunted down a couple of mice and brought them back for her breakfast, leaving them laying just in front of her nose so she couldn’t miss them when she finally woke up.
Then he’d gone about his day, like nothing had happened. Like his whole world hadn’t just been turned upside down.
When she’d finally emerged she’d gone straight to her grandsire, who was apparently going to be staying in the junkyard more often in order to prepare her.
And now, Tumble was just left watching her.
She was so pretty. So small. But fierce beyond belief, and more fearless than brave. She didn’t seem to realise her size at all.
“Do you know why I’m speaking to you?” Jellylorum asked, eyebrows raised as she stared down at Jemima.
The small red kitten crossed her arms over her chest, chin held high. “Because I pushed in.”
“Indeed,” his aunt Jelly agreed as Tumble hid a smile behind her back.
Plato was standing next to her, looking bashful.
“And are you going to tell me why you did that?” Jelly prompted when she didn’t go on.
“Because he pushed me first!” Jemima insisted, shooting the big ginger and white tom a glare.
Plato was a year older than Jemima and twice her size. He was already bigger then Tumble but hadn’t yet learnt just how strong he was, and because of that he often didn’t realise when he hurt one of the other kittens. He didn’t mean to be a bully. He was learning to be gentle and control his strength, especially now that there were so many younger kittens in the junkyard, but sometimes when he got excited he forgot.
Bustopher Jones showing up with little Victoria in tow had certainly caused a lot of excitement in the big kitten. Tumble himself had been thrilled to Mistoffelees again, but Victoria didn’t spend as much time in the junkyard as Misto did and Plato had taken a particular shine to her.
“So you pushed him back?” Aunt Jelly’s voice pulled Tumble back to the present.
“He started it!”
“I did start it,” Plato blurted before Jellylorum could go on, “I didn’t mean to push her. I just didn’t see her.”
The cream queen rubbed at her eyes. “Ok, fine. But neither of you should be pushing. Plato, you need to watch where you are going and be more careful of the smaller kits. Jemima, just because someone else does something naughty doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do the same.”
“I was just standing up for myself!” Jemima shot back, “And the others he almost stepped on.”
“I’ll do better, I promise,” Plato said earnestly, “I just got over excited about seeing Vicky again.”
Jellylorum sighed before nodding and waving a paw at the two of them. “Fine, you can go. But if I hear about either of you pushing again I’ll have you helping to pick fleas off of Jenny’s mice for a week. Understood?”
Both cats nodded quickly, eyes wide at the horrors of having to deal with mice that weren’t for eating.
“Off you go then.”
They both scampered quickly.
“You too Tumble. You should ask Mistoffelees if he wants to stay the night again,” Jelly said, turning to him. “He should be with other cats his age now that he’s bigger.”
Tumble was opening his mouth to reply when Munkustrap appeared.
“What was that about?”
“Oh, nothing too serious,” Jelly shook her head, “just your daughter picking a fight with someone twice her size.”
Munkustrap looked alarmed. “Plato’s not the sort to want to fight.”
“No, but your daughter is,” Jelly answered before looking back at Tumble, “off you go Tumble. I need to speak to Munkustrap for a moment. Mind what I said about Mistoffelees, but make sure he’s got his Uncle's permission first this time.”
Since then Plato had become the gentlest cat in the junkyard, and Tumble was certain it was because Jemima had taken to biting him whenever he accidently hurt her. The size difference between the two was still dramatic, just like it was when she stood next to her father or uncle.
Tumble sighed as he watched her. Things had been so much simpler then.
“Got something on your mind?”
Tumble jumped a good foot off the ground, spinning to find Munkustrap watching him in amusement.
Tumble blew out a loud breath as his fur started to lay back down. “You’re very quiet for such a big tom.”
Munkustrap smiled as he moved to sit down beside him. “Big night huh?”
Tumble nodded silently as his eyes were inevitably drawn back to Jemima, who was now standing pointing out across the yard at something Tumble couldn’t see.
“She didn’t tell you about it beforehand, did she?” Munkustrap asked after a moment.
“So she knew then?” Tumble asked, turning to try and search Munkustrap’s face, hoping for some answers. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Yes, she knew,” Munk said gently, “she and I were the only people that did, besides father, of course. I didn’t even tell Demeter. You know how rumours are in the junkyard. Nothing ever stays secret for long.”
That made him feel slightly better, that Munk hadn’t felt he was able to tell one of his own mates.
“She would have told Bomba,” Munkustrap went on, “and I wouldn’t have blamed her. It’s not right to expect someone to keep secrets from their mate, so we thought it was best to keep it between us. I’m sorry if you felt hurt by that, but you know there will likely be other stuff in the future that she won’t be able to tell you. It’s something you’ll have to learn to deal with if you are going to be the mate of the Jellicle Leader.”
Tumble’s stomach turned over, tying to tie itself into a knot. “Yeah I know, but that doesn’t mean that I like it. I just want to help her.”
“I know, and she’s going to need plenty of it going forward,” Munkustrap replied, “she’s only young and she’ll need your support.”
Tumble looked up at the older tom. “I always kinda thought that if anyone ever took over from Old Deuteronomy it’d be you. She’s so young, she shouldn’t have to carry all this. She should be out having fun.”
Munkustrap blinked at him in surprise. “Me? I’m chief protector, I can’t be both protector and leader. Besides, I’m not suited to being the leader, I don’t have the connection with the Everlasting cat that Jemima has. Father says I’m too distracted by practical and physical things. And he was her age when he took over from the previous leader, apparently.”
“So?” Tumble exclaimed in exasperation. “Just because he was ready doesn’t mean she is.”
Munk raised his eyebrows at him. “Do you not think she’s capable?”
“What? No, of course I know she’s capable,” Tumble ground his teeth in frustration, “she’ll be a great leader. Doesn’t mean she should have to be though.”
Munkustrap’s expression softened. “She chose this, Tumble,” he said softly, “nobody is making her take on this role. She wants to serve the tribe, and you should respect her wishes. I know you just want to protect her, but this is her choice.”
Tumble let out a long sigh before nodding silently.
“I’ll remain chief protector for the foreseeable future so I’ll be able to help her,” Munk went on, “but she’s going to need you. She chose you, remember? She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t think you were the right cat for the job, even if it will be a different job to what you were expecting. Just give it time. You’ll adjust.”
Tumble wanted to huff that he didn’t want to adjust, but the big, grey tabby was already walking away. Tumble kinda wanted him to come back so he could crawl between his legs like they had when they were kittens and then he’d know everything was going to be ok, but that didn’t really feel like a very future Jellicle Leader’s potential mate thing to do so he restrained himself.
Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was actually Jemima’s mate. It wasn’t something they’d ever really spoken about. She’d just decided to give him a collar one day, and then decided to pair up with him during the mating dance, and eventually she’d just up and moved in with him without actually speaking to him about it first.
Not that Tumble hadn’t been happy with these developments. Mostly anyway. The collar thing had been an awkward surprise, but if it had occurred a year later he would have been ecstatic about it.
He wasn’t sure when things had shifted for him. For a long time Jemima was just his little brothers’ friend who had taken a strange liking to him. She liked Rumpleteazer too but she was closer in age to Pouncival, and because of Teazer’s attachment to Mungojerrie she had always been inclined to hang out with the older kittens rather than the younger like Jemi and Pounce.
But soon it had become clear that he liked Jemima the most. Maybe it was because she was always the quickest to smile and was the easiest to make laugh. Maybe it was because she never treated him like the older authoritarian figure that Pounce did. Maybe it was because she was always so careful to include everyone. Or maybe it was just because she was always the first to pull a stunt that no one else would have even thought of, let alone been brave enough to actually do.
“Oh come on!” Pounce exclaimed. “I know how to do a round off. Even Rumple knows how to cartwheel. That’s boring. I wanna do something cool!”
Etcetera tittered as Tumblebrutus stuck his tongue out at his younger brother.
Pouncival huffed before turning on his heel, sitting down and starting to do somersaults across the yard. Etcetera followed. Or attempted to. Her summersaults were more sideways rolls than anything else but Tumble gave her points for effort. Electra just shook her head and started to follow slowly on all fours.
“Wait!” Jemima called, causing Tumble to look up to find her half way up a stack of rubbish. “I know something we can do. Watch!”
He blinked in shock as she was suddenly swinging out across the yard from a rope attached to something much further up the pile. She was grinning widely as the rope’s swing reached its highest point and started to fall back the other way.
Crazy kit, was all Tumble could think, what a legend.
And then he realised.
She wasn’t going to stop.
She was moving too fast not to crash into the pile of junk she’d launched herself off of. Even as he started scrambling up the stack he knew he wouldn’t get there in time to catch her.
There was a high pitched squeak as she smacked into the side of an old chair and went spinning off in a completely different direction. The rope itself was now not only swinging but also twisting at a speed that made Tumble’s head spin just looking at it. Jemima’s coat was a blur of pink as her red fur blended with her white bid.
He yanked himself further up the pile as the other three kittens he had been meant to be watching yowled and cried from the ground below. He finally reached the platform Jemima had started on just as she hit the stack for the second time and went bouncing away again. He was amazed she hadn’t let go but was very grateful that she hadn’t.
As she spun back towards him he readied himself, setting his feet wide to offset the impact. He barely resisted the urge to close his eyes as she flailed back towards him. Seconds later her shoulder slammed into his sternum. He stumbled backwards but locked his arms around her nonetheless. As her momentum changed direction and started dragging him back towards the edge he dug his claws into the wood beneath his feet in a desperate attempt to offset the pull.
After what felt both like a lifetime and an instant, they stopped moving.
Tumble, afraid to move less he sent them tumbling off the edge, glanced around. Jemima was frozen, eyes wide, blinking at him in shock.
“You ok?” He asked, arms still locked around her.
“Why are we whispering?” She asked back.
“I don’t know,” he replied, whiskers twitching, still keeping his voice down, “just seems like the right thing to do.”
Ever so slowly a grin grew across her face.
Then Pouncival was there.
“That was awesome!” He yelled straight into Tumblebrutus’ ear. “I want a go!”
“What?” Tumble exclaimed, grabbing for the rope before Pounce could launch himself off the pile of rubbish. “No. Absolutely not.”
“What? Why?”
Jemima snorted with mildly hysterical laughter as Tumble finally let go of her and allowed her to jump down to where Etcetera and Electra were watching with wide eyes, paws clutched over their mouths.
“Did you not see what just happened?” Tumble demanded, refusing to let go of the rope. “Please don’t make me be the adult here.”
“Oh, come on,” Pouncival whined, “it's fine. You can just catch me the way you did her.”
“Did you miss the fact that you’re bigger than her?” He said in exasperation, “And she almost pulled me off the edge. What would happen if that happened? Or if you hit the pile wrong? She could have broken something. No, if you’re going to try this you need someone bigger than me to catch you. Our father would kill me.”
They continued to argue backwards and forwards. To be completely honest Tumblebrutus wanted to try it himself, but he couldn’t do that while his brother was there. Pounce always wanted to do anything and everything he did. At least with backflips and the likes Tumble could be there to keep an eye on him and make sure that he warmed up first and didn’t do it near anything too hard. But with this there were just too many things that could go wrong. He could break an arm hitting the stack, or lose his grip and fall. Pounce was pretty good at always landing on his feet but from this height Tumble didn’t think that would save him.
“Look,” Tumble said when it became clear that this conversation was going nowhere, “I just don’t feel comfortable with you doing this. If there was someone else bigger here to help catch you then maybe but by myself I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Pouncival was opening his mouth to argue when Etcetera appeared.
“Could I try?”
Tumble stared at her in surprise.
“I’m smaller than Pounce. You could catch me,” she went on unabated, “on the first swing before it goes all crazy.”
Tumble was astounded, looking down at the ground to where he thought Jemima and Electra were, only to find only the latter sitting watching them with wide eyes. Tumble hoped Jemima had gone to get an adult so he could relinquish responsibility. He really wasn’t cut out for being the party killer. He was also surprised that it was Etcetera asking; he’d never thought of her as brave before.
“Yeah, let Etcetera try!” Pounce exclaimed, sounding excited now, “Then you’ll see it’s not dangerous and I can have a go.”
“No one is having a go until someone else is here to catch you. I will not be held responsible-”
“Don’t worry,” Tumble spun to find Tugger strutting over with Jemima under one arm, “if anyone asks, tell them the Rum Tum Tugger said it was okay. Just wait for me to get up there so I can catch you. Anything for my favourite niece”
He bent to give Jemima a kiss of the forehead before slinging himself up and onto the rubbish pile.
Tumble sighed in relief. Tugger wasn’t an adult in the way that Aunty Jelly or Munkustrap were, but he was older. His authority superseded Tumblebrutus’ and that was all he cared about.
The moment Tugger was up Tumble relinquished control of the rope and dropped down to Jemima’s level just as Electra moved to follow her idol up the stack.
“It looked like you needed help,” Jemima grinned at him.
“Thank you, I did.”
Her grin widened.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Tumble continued with a shake of his head, “you didn’t even scream.”
“Well no,” Jemima shrugged, “if I had any number of the adults would have come running and then we wouldn’t be allowed to do it again.”
“You want to do that again?” Tumble asked in disbelief.
Jemima gave him a wicked grin. “Don’t you?”
Tumble opened his mouth to say no just as Etcetera launched herself off the side of the junk pile. The two of them watched as she reached the peak of her swing and came back the other way. The moment she got close to the stack Tugger reached out and snatched her right out of the air.
Jemima gave him a knowing look out the corner of her eye, grin firmly in place. A second later they were both running for the pile and scrambling up. Hey, if Tugger was going to take responsibility, Tumble wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Jemima made decisions and Tumblebrutus just accepted them; that just seemed to be their dynamic. And Tumble loved it. He loved that he never had to make a move himself or worry about whether they were on the same page because Jemima was always two steps ahead, but just this once he would have liked some warning.
She was going to be the next Jellicle Leader. It was a position of responsibility and authority, two things that Tumble had never really been comfortable with. He tried to be brave, and to protect his family, but the truth was he was really much more comfortable bouncing around the junkyard and making the other cats laugh.
The following night Tumble was still awake when Jemima came home and crawled into their shared bed. Tumble held the blanket up so she could burrow under it with him, as spring was still a long way off, without even bothering to open his eyes. He felt her warm breath against his ear moments before her cold toe pads pressed into his thigh.
Tumble hissed as he struggled vainly to get away from her, but once Jemima had her claws in you there was no getting away from her. She giggled hysterically as she chased him across the bed, all four of her icy paws pressed into his fur.
Tumble’s back hit the side of the large wicker basket they used as a den and he finally went limp, knowing there was nowhere else for him to run to. She continued to giggle as she burrowed into him, tucking herself in under his chin and purring contentedly against the collar she had given him so long ago.
“You’re evil,” he groaned against the top of her head as she stilled.
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately for me,” Tumble drawled back as he closed his eyes and waited for her to warm up enough for his muscles to relax again.
“But very fortunate for me,” she replied, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself.
Tumble supressed a smile as he asked, “How was your day?”
“Oh, exhausting!” Jemima huffed against his throat. “I’m going to have to start asking for days off or else I’m going to want to set the junkyard on fire more than Macavity by the end of this.”
Tumble tried not to laugh even as he said, “You shouldn’t joke about that sort of thing.”
“Why not?” she asked in reply, “It’s true. It’s just soooooooo much. I don’t know how Grandpa Duet handles it.”
“Well, he has had lots of practise.”
“Yeah, and I only get a year!” She exclaimed, sounding unusually sombre now.
“Jem?” He asked in concern. He might have had some serious doubts about this situation but they were about his own role in it, not her ability to perform hers.
“I’m never going to remember all of it,” she said quickly, “how can they expect me to remember all of it? What if I mess it up? What if I send the wrong person to the Heaviside Layer? What if Macavity attacks again? What if someone gets hurt, or sick, or lost? Everyday there are more and more people wanting my advice or opinion or decision on something. It hasn’t even been a full moon since the announcement at the ball. How am I supposed to handle all of this? It just keeps coming and com-”
“Hey!” Tumble cut her off, gently pushing her back a little so he could see her face. “You’re not expected to get this all at once. There’s a reason your grandsire is sticking around for a whole year to teach you. And your Dad will be there after Old Deuteronomy is gone. And… you know I’ll do whatever little I can to help. You’re never going to be alone with this. You have time.”
“Really? Cause it doesn’t feel like that,” Jemima sighed out, “everyday more and more people come to me and I never know what to do or say to any of them.”
“Of course you don’t,” Tumble replied with a frown, “as you said you’ve only been doing this for a few days. Give yourself time, you’ll get there. They’re all just coming now because it’s all new and exciting, and cats are sticky beaks. Everyone wants to see you for themselves.”
“So they can all judge me, great.”
“So what if they do?” Tumble shot back. “Old Deuteronomy and the blooming Everlasting Cat chose you for this position. Who do you know who is smarter than your grandsire? Who could argue with the Everlasting Cat? Anyone who thinks that they know better is an arrogant fool whose opinion should mean absolutely nothing to you.”
Jemima stared at him, her big bright eyes blinking rapidly.
“I can’t help it,” she said eventually, voice uncharacteristically quiet, “I care about what other people think of me. I want to do them proud.”
“And you will,” Tumble reassured quickly, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing, “just not in your first moon. Relax, you have time.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she wriggled back in close to his chest.
Tumble knew what it was like to want to impress people, but wanting to make other people proud was new for him. He’d always wanted to impress people, make them think he was brave or clever or talented. He’d wanted to make people smile, but proud? That had never been his goal before.
“What in the Everlasting Cat’s name were you thinking?” Jellylorum asked in a huff as she helped him hop across the yard. “You should just be grateful it wasn’t your neck that snapped.”
“Well I’m never had trouble landing that on-”
“Oh, come now dear, he wasn’t thinking. That’s the point,” Jenny spoke over him from where she was supporting him on his other side. “Toms never think when pretty queens are around.”
His Aunt Jelly snorted. “In my experience it’s not just when pretty queens are around.”
“Oh no, you’re right,” Jenny agreed, “any queen will do.”
“Nah, toms just don’t think, there’s no audience required for stupidity.”
Tumble gritted his teeth, though not because his aunties were making fun of toms. The two of them had just recently mated; making fun of their male counterparts was practically their favourite pastime currently. No, he gritted his teeth because his ankle hurt like hell.
He’d been trying to perform a double front. Truthfully he’d been trying for almost a moon now. He could manage a double Arabian, but the take-off was harder on the double front and he just couldn’t quite manage it.
He bit back a groan of pain and Jenny tittered.
“Yes, ok dear, just a little further,” she said to him as they continued to hobble on, “I need you in broad daylight where we can get a good look at that ankle. Hopefully it was a clean break.”
The two queens helped him down onto a small box and he sighed in relief.
“Ok, just stay still while we collect some herbs and the likes,” Jelly said gently, “Jenny, have we got any splint sticks or do I need to go find one?”
“Pretty sure we’ve got at least a few, might need to break one down to size though,” Jenny replied as Tumble closed his eyes and tried not to focus too hard, “should be able to find something that’ll work. Do you think perhaps little Mistoffelees could take a look at it? Maybe he can magic it back together.”
Tumblebrutus’ eyes snapped open. He liked Mistoffelees but he wasn’t sure he wanted him experimenting with his magic on Tumble’s foot.
"You just stay here dearie,” Jelly said soothingly, patting him on the shoulder, “and try not to move. I know that seems to be difficult for you, and your little brother, but please try. We’ll be right back.”
Tumble was in too much pain to be sassy so he just grunted and the two queens left. Sighing he lent back further, lifting his foot carefully off the ground and onto the other end of the box. It didn’t look great. It was certainly worse than Pounce’s broken arm from two moons before. Of course, Tumble wouldn’t be stupid enough to try doing handstands less than two days after breaking it so at least he had that going for him.
“Hi.”
Tumble jumped, hissing as the movement jarred his ankle.
“Oops, sorry,” Jemima pipped apologetically, sitting carefully down next to him, “how does it feel?”
“It’s fine.”
“Liar.”
Tumble couldn’t help but chuckle, even if it did come out slightly pained.
“It certainly sounded like it hurt,” she went on, “we could hear the snap from across the clearing.”
Tumblebrutus hoped that she’d take his cringe as being due to pain and not embarrassment. He may have only been trying so hard because she was watching them practise. He wasn’t the best dancer, nor singer, and he wasn’t particularly fast or strong, but at least he was the best tumbler. Or at least he had been until he’d got so caught up in showing off that he’d gone and snapped his ankle in half.
“Looked impressive up to that point though.”
Tumble’s head whipped around to look at her, silently trying to ascertain whether she was making fun of him or not. The problem with Jemima was that her innocent smile and her I’m a little shit smile were almost identical.
“Thank you?”
“Maybe you can teach me sometime?” She asked uncertainly. “I mean, not what you were trying to do today – I don’t want to kill myself – but something simple? Like you used to do with Pounce? I’d ask him but he’s too busy getting dancing lessons from Mistoffelees and Plato at the moment.”
“You don’t want dancing lessons too?” He asked with a slight frown, with the ball coming up almost all the younger cats were wanting to brush up on their dancing skills.
“Nah, none of us are going to be able to compete with Victoria this year so why bother?” Jemima shrugged, without a trace of resentment for the little queen who had so quickly stolen the show since her Uncle finally started letting her stay in the junkyard with the other kittens. “Besides, you know singing is more my forte, but tumbling looks fun too.”
Tumble smiled, foot momentarily forgotten. “Well I’d be happy to help teach you, seeing as I won’t be doing any myself for a while. It’ll give me something to look forward to.”
“Hey, look on the bright side,” she said, as if she ever did anything else, “at least it should be all healed up for the ball.”
“How are you feeling about that? The ball I mean,” he asked, hoping to get back off the topic of his foot.
“Oh, good!” She said, bouncing happily. “It’s so exciting. I can’t wait.”
“Really?” He didn’t know why he was surprised, the tiny queen wasn’t afraid of anything. “I was nervous as hell for my first ball.”
She deflated a little. “I mean, maybe I’m a little nervous about some of it,” she perked back up quickly, “but mostly I’m excited. I always love seeing Grandpa Duet.”
He stared at her, unused to her admitting to something like that. “What part are you nervous about? If you don’t mind me asking. You can tell me to shove off if you want, you don’t have to answer. I just thought-”
“No, it's ok,” she replied quickly, placing a paw on his arm, “if you were Pounce I’d tell you to get lost but,” she shrugged, “but it’s different with you. You’re nice.”
“Um… thanks?” He replied as his stomach did something uncomfortable in his ribcage. “So… which part are you nervous about?”
“Oh um…” she looked strangely nervy, it made Tumble kind of uncomfortable. “Aunty Bomba told me about a bit in the middle? Where everyone… um… pairs up and…”
“You mean the mating dance,” Tumble supplied, everything making sense again. “Yeah, I was nervous about that last year too.”
“You were?”
Relief radiated off the smaller cat.
“Yeah of course,” Tumble replied, trying for reassuring, “but it wasn’t so bad. George and I just paired up platonically and napped. You’re not expected to actually do anything if you don’t want to.”
“Really?” Jemima said hopefully.
“Of course not,” Tumble lent over to butt his head against her shoulder, “just talk to one of your friends ahead of time so you’re both on the same page. Victoria might want to-”
“Rumple’s going to ask her.”
Tumble blinked at her in surprise. “Rumple? My Rumple? She’s into Victoria?”
Jemima nodded quickly.
“Huh, good for her,” Tumble replied, a little impressed that his little sister was going after someone new already.
Jemima nodded again.
“Oh well, ask one of the others then,” Tumble continued, “I’m sure you’re not the only one who isn’t ready to do that sort of thing yet. Hell, I’m not ready to do that sort of thing yet and this is my second ball.”
“Oh good!” She chirped, suddenly sounding far more chipper than she had only moments earlier. “We’ll pair up and then it won’t be a problem for either of us.”
Tumblebrutus blinked at her, face blank as he processed that. I really should be used to her pulling this sort of thing by now, he thought, even as he desperately searched around for some sort of response.
“Um…”
“Thanks Tumble,” she continued without waiting, “I owe you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. The other girls are all so excited about it and I felt like I couldn’t say anything to them, but if I’ve already got a partner for the dance, and an older one at that, they won’t be able to tease me.”
“Do they tease you?” Tumble asked, even though he was still at least three sentences back in this conversation.
Jemima shrugged. “Sometimes. Etcetera can’t understand why I wouldn’t be excited about mating in front of everyone. She thinks it’s the most romantic thing ever, and I’m pretty sure Victoria agrees, just that she's nicer about it.”
“Ah… you always just kinda seemed like the ringleader of your group so I didn’t think any of them would make fun of you,” Tumble mumbled as he tried to catch up.
“You’re the leader of your group but I bet they still make fun of you,” Jemima shot back so fast Tumble was left giving her stunned blinks again.
“That’s true…”
“Exactly,” Jemima said firmly, “but now they won’t. Everyone will leave us alone if we’re together. No one will try to flirt with me, or suggest coupling up for the dance. We’ll be good. Thanks Tumble, I’ll pay you back I promise,” suddenly she was up and running across the yard. “Hey Etcetera! Guess what!”
Tumble stared after her feeling a little shell-shocked. It was only when he looked around that he found Jellylorum and Jennyanydots coming towards him looking amused.
His aunt Jelly winked at him. “Well, we now know who you were showing off for.”
“I just know I won’t live up to their expectations,” Jemima said quietly into his chest, “I’m just me.”
“Your grandsire wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t think you were the right cat for the job,” Tumble reiterated firmly, even as he wondered if he was up to the job of being the Jellicle Leader’s mate.
“Yes but we all know that he only chose me because I’m his granddaughter.”
Tumble was so shocked he pulled away, needing to see her face to tell if she actually believed that or not. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not,” she replied, sounding annoyed, “who else was he going to choose?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe your father?” Tumble huffed, “I mean, I don’t know about you but that’s who I always assumed would take over eventually. He is the head protector after all.”
“You can’t be Jellicle Leader and Head Protector at the same time.”
“Yeah so everyone keeps telling me,” Tumble mumbled before replying properly. “Look Jem, Old Deuteronomy has many children, and many more grandchildren. Even if he was restricted to choosing someone from his own bloodline he’d still have plenty of options, but he chose you because he thinks you’re the best cat for the job and obviously I agree with him.”
Jemima stared at him with wide eyes. “You do?”
“Of course I do,” Tumble stated quickly, slightly offended that she didn’t already know that, “I couldn’t think of anyone else who would even be mildly suitable for the job.”
“Your aunt Jelly would be good,” Jemima replied, clearly having thought about this a lot, “or Mistoffelees, or even Victoria or Electra, maybe-”
“Ah no,” Tumble shut her down before she could get going, “the leader needs to be open minded, I love Aunt Jelly but she’s not the most accepting of cats, not to mention I don’t think Old Deuteronomy is allowed to choose someone who used to be his mate. And Mistoffelees hates being the centre of attention unless it’s Tugger’s attention or he’s high off of moonlight. Victoria is kind enough, compassionate, but she’s also kind of passive. She’s not fierce like you and the Jellicle Leader needs to be able to fight if it comes to that. And Electra? I don’t think she’d handle the responsibility. She just wants to be accepted and fit in, and making her fill that sort of position would make her stand out even more than being Macavity’s daughter does already. And yes, I can come up with a reason why every single cat you can name would be a bad choice, except you. I’ve known what you were capable of since your first ball.”
He’d hardly been able to pull his eyes away from her all night and it had very little to do with his agreeing to partner with her for the mating dance, though that added to it of course.
She’s always been a happy cat. He himself took making her smile as much as possible as a personal challenge after all, but at the ball she practically glowed. She bounced around the yard like one of Pounce’s ping-pong balls. She hadn’t shown even a hint of being anxious. Tumble hoped that was at least in part due to him.
They hadn’t really danced together during the ball. Each of them instead choosing to remain with the cats they usually hung out with, but once the mating dance had started Tumble had made sure to stay close. He wanted to be there if she needed him but also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or feel like she couldn’t have fun with anyone else. Once the coupling up had started properly, and it became clear that Victoria was going to lead the mating, Tumble had just laid down next to her and let her do whatever she wanted. She’d been perfectly calm, even if she hadn’t let herself have a cuddle until Electra and Mistoffelees had joined them.
During the Macavity scare she’d been ready to hiss and swipe at her uncle for threatening her friends. She’d been one of the first kittens to join in with Tugger as he sang for Mistoffelees, despite the little tuxedo tom throwing lightning bolts around like it was nothing and her grandsire having been kidnaped. Even Tumble had been a little scared then. When Old Deuteronomy had been returned to them only for it to turn out that he wasn’t Old Deuteronomy at all Jemima had instinctively trusted her mother’s judgement.
And Grizabella…
She’d not only shown no fear of Grizabella, been the first to reach out as if she understood her. Somehow, she’d understood this old crone who no one in the junkyard had seen in years. Old Deuteronomy had been the only other cat who had understood her and even he hadn’t been able to explain to the others. It was only through Jemima that some understanding had been reached.
While most of the kittens had been curious at first Jemima was the only one who hadn’t been deterred. Even when the older cats warned her away she hadn’t been able to stop herself from reaching out again. It was only when she stood and took up her grandmother's song that the other cats, including Tumble himself, had finally been able to open up and let her in. Victoria had reached out because Jemima gave her the courage to do so. Jemima gave them all courage, and something akin to guilt, or perhaps empathy.
He was thinking about that as he stared at her, the sun rising in front of them and the tribe’s voices joining Old Deuteronomy’s in singing the final Addressing of Cats. He didn’t think it was coincidence that the same lingering moonbeam that shone on Deuteronomy also backlit Jemima perfectly, or that she had somehow instinctively known when it was time to make the choice.
As the sun rose and the music faded most of the cats started moving away, off into smaller groups or to their beds. It was a very different feeling to the only other ball Tumble had been at. Then with Mistress, Bustopher’s mother, being chosen, there had been a bittersweet feeling but also a lot of grief from the older cats who had grown up with her. Grandfather Gus was now the only one of that generation left. Many people had either gone off to grieve her passing, or had sat around in groups to share memories of her.
Now, however, there was a much more jovial mood, perhaps because Grizabella would not be missed in the same way, or perhaps because people were still high off the adrenaline from the Macavity attack. Either way the noise level was high, and not just from Etcetera bouncing across the yard to get to Tugger. Mistoffelees was also getting swamped, along with Plato and Victoria, while many more moved towards Old Deuteronomy.
There was one cat however that hadn’t moved.
Jemima was still standing, face to the dawn, as light spilled across the yard.
Tumblebrutus watched her for a moment, her eyes shut and a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. It was only when he saw Pouncival out the corner of his eye coming towards him that he moved. Not towards his little brother mind you, but towards the young queen who still hadn’t seemed to shake the effects of the moonlight.
Carefully, so as not to startle her, he laid a paw gently on her shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”
Her eyes fluttered open as she smiled serenely at him. “Yeah… she’s happy now.”
“Who?”
“Grizabella.”
Tumble didn’t really want to know how she knew that but frankly this wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d ever said to him so he decided to just let it go. “That’s good, but how are you?”
“Oh,” she sounded startled, as if she hadn’t thought about it, “I don’t know… tired, I guess?”
“Right so… bed then?”
She smiled dreamily at him again and nodded slowly.
He replied in turn before using the paw on her shoulder to turn her towards the den she shared with her mother, aunt and sister. She lent idly against his side as he led her away, her weight oddly comforting. Her den was empty when they arrived, clearly the other three queens were still socializing somewhere. Tumble thought it was unlikely that Electra would come home until Bomba hunted her down and forced her to.
Tumble pulled the tarp out of the way so she could enter the den before following her in and stopping just inside the door.
“Well I’ll say-”
“Stay?” Jemima breathed softly, eyes drooping even before she sat down on the bed. “Just till someone comes home? I don’t feel like being alone.”
Tumblebrutus was sitting down before the words had even fully registered consciously. “Of course.”
She smiled sleepily and laid her head down on her paws, her tail curling around her.
He was just settling in to wait when there was a sudden tug on one of his arms, he turned to find Jemima pulling him closer. He shuffled over so he was sitting in front of the little bed and she turned over so she could curl into his back, purring quietly.
“Thanks Tumble,” she said around a yawn, eyes still closed.
“For what?”
She gave a tiny shrug. “Staying close.”
The corner of Jemima’s mouth quirked up. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”
Tumble let out a short huff of laughter. “Jem, I’ve don’t nothing but think about this since the ball.”
She blushed a little. “Yeah sorry, I know we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet.”
“It’s ok,” Tumble lied, “you’ve had a lot on your plate.”
“I know, but still…” Jemima sighed and wriggled in closer, “how are you coping with everything?”
“I’m fine,” he lied gently, “try and get some sleep. You need your rest.”
She gave a couple of small nods against his shoulder before squirming again and then going still as she settled down to sleep.
He was very much not fine. He had no idea how to be the Jellicle Leader's mate, all he knew was that the mate of the leader should be a way more serious and upstanding cat then he was, but he would try. For her. He would try anything for her.
“WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME?!”
Tumble, and half the junkyard, froze. He turned slowly, looking across to the old, rusted out oven. Jemima stood atop it, back arched and claws out, glaring down at the small group of cats gathered in front of her. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly with her breathing.
The crowd drew away from her in fear. For such a small cat she could certainly exude a lot of rage.
Munkustrap who had been standing next to the oven reached a paw up towards her, mouth moving as she spoke words Tumblebrutus was too far away to hear. In an even more shocking turn of events Jemima slapped her father’s paw away, hissed something and turned, leaping down off the oven and storming off. The grey tabby stared after her in shock before glancing around as if looking for answers.
Tumblebrutus, who had sat up in surprise, caught his eyes. Munkustrap looked flabbergasted. Tumble couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same. He’d seen Jemima get angry before, but not like this. When she got mad there was almost always either a very good reason or else a very petty reason. There was no in-between. But even when she was in a rage she never spoke badly to anyone who wasn’t the direct cause and she certainly didn’t dismiss her father like it was nothing.
Tumble was up and going after her before Munkustrap had even finished nodding in her direction. It didn’t take him long to find her. She was stomping backwards and forwards across a small clearing that they had often played in as kittens, mumbling angrily under her breath as she paced.
“Jem?” Tumble asked uncertainly, stopping a couple of steps away.
“Oh good, you’re here,” she said, spinning and marching straight towards him, “you can catch me.”
“Huh?”
Jemima did not stop when she reached him, instead walking straight past, grabbing his arm as she did so and towing him towards a familiar pile of junk.
“You’re going to catch me.”
Tumble stared at her as she started climbing up the stack. It took him a moment to realise that she didn’t mean that she was going to jump off of the pile of rubbish.
“Wait, now? Really?” He asked as he scrambled up the heap behind her. “Don’t you have more important things to be doing then practising the trapeze?”
“Nope,” she replied firmly, “right now, this is the most important thing I could possibly be doing.”
Tumble clambered onto the platform just as Jemima pushed off.
They’d made improvements to the swing since they first discovered it almost two years ago. It was now two ropes, instead of one, with a wooden bar between them to make it easier to hold on. These days Etcetera and Electra were the best at it, Electra even hung from her legs sometimes, but Pounce wasn’t bad either.
Tumble quickly moved to catch her as she swung back towards him, clamping his paws closed on her hips to stop her from swinging away again.
Jemima, much to his confusion, immediately started lining up to go again.
“Jem, don’t you think you should-”
He trailed off as she launched herself back off the platform, legs perfectly straight and toes pointed. He had no idea what had gotten into her. He’d never known her to be one to ignore her problems before. Usually she charged right up to her problems with paws on hips and told her problems where they could go. This was not like her.
“Jem, we should talk about this,” he tried again when she arched back up to the platform.
“Or we could have fun instead,” she replied, quickly readying herself to go again, “that’s what you’re best at.”
Tumble stared with his mouth open long enough for her to leap off again. He knew being silly and making people laugh was sort of his thing, but he could be more than that surely. He’d been trying his hardest since the announcement, he knew he needed to be more. For her.
“Jemima this is serious,” he said more firmly this time as he caught her again, “I’ve never seen you disrespect your father like that before.”
Jemima huffed angrily. “Well maybe he needs to realise that I’m not the bloody Rumpus cat. I can’t just magically get all of this in a couple of weeks. I need time off. I need to have fun. I need to blow off steam once in a while. Which is what you are for.”
Tumble looked up in surprise as Jemima flopped down beside him. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing just-”Jemima grumbled something under her breath as she lay her chin down on her front paws.
“Was I supposed to hear any of that?”
“No, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” she said in a voice that sounded anything but.
“Sure you are.”
Jemima huffed, glaring at him out the corner of her eye.
Tumble stretched, trying to act casual, spreading out over the top of the desk they were lying on. It was away from the main clearing, out of sight from everyone except anyone stood upon the tire. Due to its remoteness, it wasn’t overshadowed by any of the stacks of rubbish, giving it good sun exposure all year round. It had become Tumble’s go to spot in the winter months.
“Ok, fine,” Jemima cracked, just as Tumble knew she would, “I don’t like how everyone is suddenly trying to act like adults.”
Tumble frowned, glancing sideways at her as he resettled himself. “Wanna expand on that?”
“Exactly what I said,” Jemima reiterated, “everyone’s trying to pretend they’re adults now and it’s boring. Etcetera and Electra are mimicking everything Aunt Bomba does in the hope of getting Uncle Tugger’s attention even though he dropped her at the ball, and Plato and Victoria are suddenly hanging out with Mum and Dad just ‘cause she’s pregnant, and Pounce in also following Aunt Bomba around, just for very different reasons, and I’m sick of it. Your generation are the only ones not doing it.”
“Hence why you came and found me.”
“Precisely.”
“Right…” Tumble said slowly, “so… you want me to act like a kitten?”
“Yes! No. Just… oh I don’t know,” Jemima whined, “I just want everyone to go back to acting normal.”
“Right, so what’s normal for me then?”
Jemima shrugged. “Being kinda silly.”
He snorted, taken by surprise by his own laughter. “I’ll have you know that I am a very dignified cat.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I am,” Tumble said, nose in the air, “dignified and distinguished, like Bustopher Jones.”
“Nah, you’re too much like Skimble for that.”
Tumble clutched at his heart in mock anguish. “You take that back!”
She smirked at him. “I don’t think I will.”
“You will!” Tumble replied, leaning over her in as menacing a manner as he was capable of.
“Or you’ll what?” She asked, tongue poking out from between her teeth as she rolled onto her back.
“Or I’ll make you,” he shot back, leaning in so their noses were inches apart.
“Oh I’d love to see you try.”
He poked her in the rib.
She squirmed away.
He did it again.
And then they were grappling.
He had an arm around her waist as she was bent half over his shoulder, batting at his back with only half sheathed claws. He tried to pin her hips with his legs but she was as wriggly as Alonzo.
Next thing he knew they were rolling.
Straight off the edge of the desk.
Tumble’s back smacked into the ground with a thud. Jemima landed on top of him. He groaned as she giggled and tried to scramble away. He was with it enough to prevent her from getting too far, instead grabbing her around the waist again and slinging her to the ground.
She was laughing hysterically at this point.
“Like seeing me in pain do you?” He gasped as he tried to get control of her front paws to prevent her from trying to tickle him.
“That was your own fault,” she shot back, tail lashing as she tried to arch her back enough to get her back legs free, even while her front paws were pinned above her head.
“You’re a demon.”
“And you’re a sweetheart.”
Tumble froze as cool lips closed over his own. He was still staring, wide eyed in shock, as she pulled back.
“Thanks for making me laugh.”
“You’re… welcome…” he said robotically as he waited for his brain to finish computing.
“But I’m still not taking it back,” Jemima grinned evilly at him before poking him in the belly and then taking off across the yard, “and now you’ll have to catch me too!”
Tumble, purely based on instinct, found himself rolling to his paws and sprinting off after her.
Tumblebrutus didn’t know how to reply to that. He’d always known that she liked that he could make her smile. Damn it, he himself liked that he could make her smile. But surely there was more to him than that. If he was going to be the Jellicle Leaders mate he was going to need to be more than that.
“I know, Jem,” he said eventually, “but you have responsibilities now and you should be-”
“Not you too!” she exploded at him, dropping the trapeze as she did so.
Tumble, as usual, felt like his brain was running at half the speed that her’s was.
“Tumble you’re supposed to be the fun one!” She huffed, throwing her paws up in frustration, “You’re the one who never takes anything seriously. The one who just wants to make me laugh.”
“I know,” Tumble placated, trying to calm her as he stepped back from the ledge, “but I can’t be just that anymore. Not with you as our leader.”
“What?” Jemima’s face screwed up, anger dissipating into confusion.
“I can be more than just the silly one,” Tumble replied carefully, “I know you need me to be more than that.”
“This is absurd.”
“No, this is serious.”
“Oh how I wish it wasn’t.”
“Jem, please,” Tumble begged, “I’m trying here.”
“To do what?”
“To help you!”
“By being serious?” she asked, sounding astounded. “That’s the very opposite to what I want right now.”
“What you want and what you need-”
“Are the same thing!” She shoved him back against the stack of rubbish. “Tumble, I need to relax. To let off steam. And I need you to do that!”
His frown deepened as he tried to sort through that.
“Why do you think I chose you?”
“What?”
“Why do you think I chose you?” She asked again.
“I... I don’t know,” Tumble admitted, “I just assumed I was… convenient. You did just up and moved in one day.”
Tumble blinked around himself in confusion. It was late, and pitch black, and he had been happily sleeping in his nice quiet new individual den. But something, or someone, was now around moving just outside the door.
With Plato now moved in with Victoria there was no one that should be entering his den in the middle of the night. Pounce still stayed over some nights, whenever he was feuding with George or Coricopat, but they’d all been fine when Tumble had left them only a couple of hours earlier.
There was more noise, followed by a burst of cold wind as the blanket over the doorway was pushed aside. There was a patch of black against the midnight blue sky before the wind was blocked out again by the blanket falling back into place.
Tumble sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to focus on the shade. “Jem?”
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she chirped as she dumped an armful of stuff on the floor, “I was worried you wouldn’t be.”
“I wasn’t,” Tumble said flatly as his eyes finally adjusted and she came into focus in the low light. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m moving in,” she replied, as if this wasn’t a completely bonkers statement.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just really past time I moved out of Mum and Aunty Bomba’s place,” Jemima replied, as she started to rearrange things around the small space, “they’ve started sneaking off during the night and then coming back reeking to high heaven, and I’m not stupid, I was at the ball, I know what that smell means. I just thought I’d give them some space.”
Tumble digested that slowly. “Doesn’t Electra still live at home?”
“Yeah but she’s Electra,” Jemima said as if that explained everything, “she’s not as… sociable as I am. She wouldn’t be as comfortable asking to move in with someone.”
“Unlike you who doesn’t bother to ask.”
“Exactly, you can’t say no if I don’t actually ask,” Jemima shrugged, “besides, you still wear the collar I got you when I was three months old. You clearly don’t know how to say no to people.”
“No, that’s just you.”
Jemima grinned. “Either way, Electra is more of a homebody than me,” Jemima threw a very fuzzy purple blanket at him, or more likely the bed he was sitting on, “but the den is just too small for four full grown queens to all live in.”
“Even when one of them is your size?”
Jemima stuck her tongue out at him before continuing as if he hadn’t said anything. “Everyone just expects her to move out because she’s the oldest, but she’s not ready to, and that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This way it takes the pressure off, and gives her more time. And besides, you don’t have a roommate anymore and living alone must be lonely so…” she shrugged again, “two birds, one stone.”
Tumble was still very tired but he knew her well enough to know what she wasn’t saying. She felt like she had to move out, to help her sister who was so much more introverted then she was, but she also wasn’t yet comfortable with the idea of living alone. Which, considering she’d spent her whole life sharing a den with three other cats, was understandable. She could have moved in with Etcetera or Tantomile, but she’d picked him. For some reason she had decided that he was the next best thing to family, so he wasn’t about to question it, lest she change her mind.
“Ok,” Tumble said eventually, “but why exactly are you doing this in the middle of the night?”
“Because Mum wouldn’t let me leave if I told her about it first,” Jemima answered, as she looked around at her handiwork, “she’d have a million reasons as to why I should stay home, and it’d make Electra feel bad. So I snuck out, and this way you’d be even less likely to say no because you’re too tired to argue.”
Tumble blinked at her, surprised that she’d just revealed that she wasn’t as confident about him being ok with this as she was pretending to be.
Without thinking about it he said, “I am too tired to argue.”
A relieved grin broke out across her face. “I knew you would be.”
“So how are we doing this?”
“Huh?” Jemima asked in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“Were you a bed sharing or a separate nests kind of family?”
“There are people who don’t like sharing a bed?”
“Apparently, I mean, Tugger is pretty vocal about not liking to cuddle,” Tumble replied as she organised the last of her things.
Jemima gave a confused frown. “He always cuddles with me.”
“Yes well, you are his favourite.”
“I don’t know,” Jemima replied with an amused smile, “after that song he did at the ball I think he might have a new favourite.”
Tumble smiled as she slowly approached his nest. “Don’t tell Mistoffelees.”
She giggled as she came to sit beside the bed before they lapsed into silence. “So…” she said after a long pause, “are you a separate bed’s sort of cat or…?”
Tumble hid a smile by looking at his paws as he lay back down. “As if Pounce would ever have let me get away with that.”
She gave another big smile, relief pouring off her in waves even if she would never actually vocalise it. “Oh good.”
Next thing Tumble knew she was flopping down on top of him. He made a weird noise as air was physically pushed out of his lungs by her weight and she said, “This is going to be fun.”
Jemima was looking at him with something between pain and pity, with a large helping of frustration on the side. “You really are an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing and looking down at their feet, “I know, sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” she lifted a paw to stoke over his cheek before settling to rest on his shoulder, “it’s not a bad thing.”
Tumble’s brain was full on short circuiting at this point. “How is that not a bad thing?”
“Tumble, I chose you because you’re an idiot.”
“You like me because I’m stupid?”
“No,” Jemima rolled her eyes, even as a frustrated smile emerged on her face, “I chose you because you can always make me smile.”
“Yes but-”
“No buts,” she snapped firmly, before leaning forward into him so their fur was pressed together, “there are no buts. No, I don’t need you to be more than that, and me one day being Jellicle Leader doesn’t change that. In fact, I think it makes it all the more important.”
Tumble’s eyes flicked backwards and forwards between hers. “How do you mean?”
“I’m going to have a lot more responsibilities, and you’ve seen my father. Responsibilities equal stress,” she explained, bumping their noses together, “but you can always make me relax, forget about it for a little while, and smile. You’re my stress relief.”
Tumble’s lips formed an ‘O’ shape as he took that in.
“I don’t want, nor have I ever wanted, someone serious,” she continued, smiling softly at him, “and I certainly don’t want you to change.”
He suddenly felt all his muscles relax as anxiety he didn’t even know he was carrying began to drain out of him.
“You’re my idiot,” her smile widened, “and I love you just the way you are, idiot and all.”
“Oh,” he breathed, relaxing into her, “thank Bast.”
She laughed, a light, happy sound. “Do you get it now? Everything is about to change, and I just want one thing to remain the same. I want us to remain the same. We’re easy, Tumble. I don’t have to think too much about us. You make me laugh when I’m ready to pull someone’s fur out. You get me, or at least, you usually do. You’re the perfect cat to be the Jellicle Leader’s mate, because you’re perfect for me. Ok?”
Tumble pushed his head against the side of hers as he engulfed her in a hug. “Yeah, ok,” he said into her ear as he tucked her under his chin, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I suppose I just got stuck in my head and forgot that you usually know more about what you’re doing than I do.”
She chuckled against his collarbone. “No, you just got stuck on the Jellicle Leader thing just like I did.”
He frowned as she drew herself back just far enough to look up at him.
“It’s like you said,” she explained, “Grandfather, or the Everlasting cat, or the tribe, or whoever, wouldn’t have chosen me if I wasn’t the right cat for the job, and well, I wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t the right cat to be my mate.”
He couldn’t help but grin at that, as relief washed over him. Jemima wasn’t stupid like he was, she wouldn’t have picked him if she didn’t want him. “I am an idiot.”
“Yes, you are,” she replied, shaking her head with a wide grin, “and I love you for it.”
“Ok,” he said firmly, settling his paws on her hips, “you want me to be your stress relief? I can do that. I will be the funniest, silliest cat in the yard.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“I will be so stupid I’ll make George look intelligent.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’ll be more annoying than Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer combined.”
“Now hang on a minute.”
“More of a shit stirrer than Mistoffelees or even little demon baby Mephisto.”
“Ok, now you’re getting delusions of grandeur.”
“I’ll make more ridiculous noises then all the kittens in the nursery, just for you.”
“Why do I feel like I might be starting to regret this?”
“And I’ll do it at the most inopportune times,” he continued, manic grin growing, “good luck keeping a straight face with me around.”
“Oh Bast,” Jemima rubbed at her face, “if you start making sex jokes in front of Grandfather again I’m going to-”
He cut her off by kissing her. By kissing his mate. His mate who had chosen him for who he was, and not what he thought she needed. So what if the Jellicle Leader was going to be mated to the court jester? Neither of them would have it any other way.