tuggoffelees oneshots

one: im cold

misto POV
    i wake with a start with an empty space beside me. i sit up, staring around the dark room for tugger. he's nonexistent, it seems.
    i softly call from my spot, "tugger?" no answer.  i call a bit louder. still nothing. i sigh as i clamber from our shared nest. we both didn't feel like going back to our families tonight, but maybe tugger had changed his mind?
    the junkyard was silent and still and cold, though i could pick up tugger's scent easily. i followed it all the way to the back fence, and that's where i found him. tugger was sitting, doing literally nothing. without me. he's sitting there in silence without me!
    "tugger? whatcha doin,'" i chirp in a sing-song voice before i notice the frown gracing his handsome features
    "hey misto," he murmurs with the throaty croak of someone who'd been crying.
   "what's wrong? are you okay?" i question, switching back to my normal voice.
    "oh, you know, just a bad dream"
     "what was it about?"
     "you."
     "well it certainly couldn't be that bad if i was there" at this, tugger smiles his beautiful smile, but it falters, "of course not, but when you're being brutally murdered right in front of me, what's a cat to do?"
   "ohshit sorry" i meow quickly, moving closer to him to try and comfort him. it works. tugger wraps his arms around me and i nuzzle my face into that dramatic mane of his.
   "yea..." tugger whispers, "but you're here now, so it's fine."
   i pull away to look into his eyes, "why didn't you wake me?"
   "i didn't want to disturb you, you were so peaceful..."
    i stare at him. he's so dumb. i love him of course, but he's a dumbass. i laugh quietly and resume my place on his shoulder.
   several minutes pass and eventually tugger whispers "should we go back to the den? i'm cold"
   i smile lovingly, "yeah, of course, wouldn't want the frail rum tum tugger to get chilly, would we?"
   he playfully bats at my ear before standing, and, as always, reaching to help me up; what a gentleman.