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flame-x · 2 years

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The One Where We Get Inside Alonzo's Head

Summary: A short glance into a morning in Alonzo’s life while the threat of Macavity is a rising one. Munkustrap and Alonzo deal with unrest from cats who distrust the ones who used to work with Macavity. Hypothetical murder is plotted. Set about two years after Grizabella’s Ball. cw: discussions and plotting of hypothetical murder, discussion of betrayal

“Macavity is getting stronger,” Munkustrap said grimly, getting straight to the point. That was Alonzo’s second indicator something serious was wrong. The tribe’s protector loved to hear himself talk, which was fair enough because he was a fine orator. The entire tribe loved to hear him speak. The first indicator had been the instructions he’d gotten from Munkustrap about half an hour earlier to call all the cats, bar the patrolling ones and the kittens (and Jellylorum, who was currently minding them) to the Stage.

“He’s taking more and more territory and properties on the other side of the river. He’s been recruiting cats, specifically Jellicles without allegiances. He’s preparing to attack.

“No cat is to venture outside the Junkyard alone. There will be an increase in patrols— one at 9am, one at midday, one at 3pm and one at 6pm, one at 3am, plus the usual dawn and dusk patrols. There will also be one at midnight. The number of cats on each patrol will be increased from three to four.

“Cats are advised to stay in the Junkyard for their own safety, but you can of course stick to your homes instead. Kittens, unless they have homes, are no longer allowed to leave the Junkyard until Macavity is dealt with.” Munk looked around at the gathered cats and Alonzo met his gaze, blinking encouragement. “Alonzo and myself will have the patrols organised by midnight.”

“Is the Ball still going ahead?” Asparagus called. Alonzo smirked internally. Coricopat owed him a mouse— he’d told the other tom that somecat would ask that, but he’d remained unconvinced, sure that they’d obviously know the Ball wouldn’t be cancelled. They’d bet on it.

Munkustrap nodded. “Of course. Mistoffelees is going to put precautionary alarms and set-ups in case Macavity decides to interrupt again this year. We will be prepared this time. Are there any other questions?” Of course, there were.

“What about Old Deuteronomy’s safety?”

“Will the kittens be allowed to participate? It’s tradition!”

“Hardly! It isn’t safe!”

“What are we going to do about the cats who used to work for Macavity? Surely they can’t be allowed to stay. What if they’re spies?”

Alonzo rounded on Spike, who’d asked the last question. “That’s enough out of you!” he spat.

“It’s a valid question, Checkers,” the constant pain-in-his-ass drawled. “How do we know we can trust them? Why, Macavity probably fathered two of them!” Spike glanced meaningfully at Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, the former of which had his arm around Victoria. Alonzo bared his teeth. Always hitting where it hurts.

“The cats who formerly worked with Macavity have proven their loyalty time and time again,” he ground out, “They’re nothing but faithful.”

“Of course, of course. But if one of our own cats was working for Macavity, how can we know for sure that they aren’t? Not to mention the white cat. We all know both of the mates she’s had work with Macavity, or have in the past.” Spike lifted an eyebrow at him, a challenge.

“Alonzo,” There was a warning note in Misto’s voice as he appeared next to the tom. Alonzo swished his tail angrily and stood down. “Don’t do something stupid. Don’t—”

“Don’t let my temper get the better of me, I know,” Alonzo grumbled, tail swishing, “Don’t scold me, Misto.”

Munkustrap’s voice rang out over the murmuring. “As I said, Misto is going to put precautionary measures in place to ensure everycat’s safety. Therefore, as usual, we will all be present and taking part. Macavity will not scare us into cancelling. We’ve dealt with him before, and we’ll deal with him again. As for you,” he fixed Spike with a cold gaze, “Alonzo is right. The cats who formerly worked for Macavity have proved their loyalty time—”

“You would say that, one of them is your mate!” Spike interrupted him.

“ —and time again,” Munkustrap swept on, ignoring him. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Alonzo was reminded just how formidable and authoritative their gentle protector could be. “On the other paw, to throw unfounded accusations around about another cat is quite serious. Do you have any proof of Victoria working for Macavity? I assume you do, otherwise you wouldn’t say such things. Well?” They glared at each other for a few moments until Spike finally yielded, lowering his eyes in reluctant submission.

“That’s what I thought,” Munkustrap said icily, “Are there any other questions?” His eyes swept across the gathered cats, all traces of anger in them gone as quick as it’d arrived. “No? Then this meeting is over. Patches, Coricopat, Greycat and I will take the next patrol, at 3pm. Alonzo will organise the next few, and the night watches.” He stepped down from the tyre he had been speaking to them from and made his way over to Alonzo and Misto.

“Well that was certainly eventful,” Misto muttered.

Munkustrap sighed. “You’re telling me.”

The cats around them began to disperse gradually. There was still some mutterings, and a few shot glances at Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer, Victoria and Demeter as they left or gossiped. Alonzo’s tail swished angrily as he noticed the group around Spike, all talking quietly and staring openly at Mungojerrie and Victoria.

“Look at that,” he murmured. Munk and Misto glanced in the direction he was looking in. “We’ve got trouble.”

Spike and AJ appeared to be the ringleaders. Asparagus, Victor, Tabbygirl, Murad and Jonathan were listening to them speak, though to their credit, most of them looked hesitant.

“Well at least we know Tabbygirl is only there because she fancies Spike. Murad is definitely only curious. And Victor, he feels betrayed by Plato and Socrates,” Munkustrap said quietly.

“Not good that Asparagus is there, though,” a familiar voice rumbled. Tugger approached, sliding an arm around Misto’s waist, who nodded in agreement.

“Bet you anything Patches doesn’t even realise AJ is involved in this,” Alonzo murmured. That tom’s head was too high up in the clouds to notice most things.

Misto let out a low chuckle. “Alonzo, I’m beginning to think you’re a gambling addict.”

“Excuse you, Mr. Magic Feet,” Alonzo said playfully, “At least I always win my bets!”

Munkustrap’s lips quirked up at the corners. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he said mock-sternly. “I have to get going on patrol. ‘Lonz?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you do, don’t put Spike and AJ together on patrol.”

“Noted. Wouldn’t have anyway.”

“Thanks. Try not to kill Spike.”

Alonzo mock-pouted. “Fine.”

Tugger smirked as the grey tom faded out of earshot. “He never said I couldn’t kill Spike.” Misto smacked his arm.

“Much as I’d like to, I don’t think Munk would forgive us.”

“He wouldn’t need to know it was you,” Alonzo mused. “I could hypothetically tell you where to hide his body.”

“Ooooh, now I’m intrigued. What has Alonzo the Good, Kind and Faithful, right-hand cat of Munkustrap, done that he knows a good place to hypothetically hide a body?” Tugger teased. Alonzo smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I don’t think I want to know what’s going on here,” a gravelly voice said. The newly-arrived Admetus shook his head at them as he and Demeter joined them, chuckling.

“Oh, just discussing a good place to hide Spike’s body. Hypothetically, of course,” Misto said breezily. Demeter chuckled again.

“I like the sound of that,” she mused thoughtfully. Alonzo sighed dramatically.

“Much as I’d love to stay and keep plotting hypothetical murder, duty calls and I have several patrols to organise. I’ll talk to you all later. Admetus, can I have a word?” The two toms walked towards Alonzo’s den. Once they were out of earshot, Alonzo spoke again.

“I’m putting you on the six o’ clock patrol with Hysperia, Cassandra and Victor. I need you to talk to Victor, to set him on the straight and narrow.”

Admetus’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s he done?”

“Nothing yet,” Alonzo sighed, “But he’s getting involved with Spike and what he’s saying. I take it you didn’t see the little group surrounding him after the meeting?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, Munkustrap and I think it’s serious. Munk reckons Victor feels betrayed by Plato and Socrates and that’s why he’s listening to Spike. He’s lost. I want you to talk to him. He might listen to you, and the other two will be discreet. They’ll give you privacy if you signal for it.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks. Things could turn nasty soon. We need to try and get as many cats to see sense as possible before Spike really starts undermining Munkustrap. Victor is a good place to start.”

“Who else do we think is lending an ear to Spike, if you don’t mind my asking?” Admetus rumbled.

“Victor, Tabbygirl, Jonathan, Murad, AJ and most worryingly, Asparagus,” Alonzo answered, frowning. They arrived outside his and Cassandra’s crate. “Cass is inside, I think. I’ll tell her to give you space to talk to Victor this evening. She’ll let Hysperia know, too.”

“Right then,” Admetus stretched. “See you later.”

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

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The plants are Eddie's idea.

Each and every one of them is rescued or adopted in some way: salvaged from a home that hadn't cared for it, up for grabs on the side of the road, forgotten in the corners of Home Depot, leftovers from wedding centerpieces that surely are going to be tossed after the reception ends. Eddie knows what it feels like to be forgotten, left out, neglected, and just because plants don't have a voice stand on lunch tables and air their frustrations with broken systems, that doesn't mean they don't feel. So yes, Eddie loves his plants, loves them with almost the same intensity that he loves their cat, Bruce.

At first, Steve just nods and shrugs and gives Eddie that fond smile that says I don't get it but you're happy so I'm happy. The same smile Steve wears when Eddie rambles on about Dungeons and Dragons, about the intricacies of being both a Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne fan, about why Mothman and Bigfoot and mermaids absolutely exist, Steve! It's endearing and warm, and Eddie loves him so goddamn much. Even more than Bruce, even more than the plants.

What Eddie doesn't expect, though, is for Steve to grow to love the plants, too. In true Steve fashion, he brushes it off when he pinches dead leaves from the Pothos, or when he smiles as he sprays the Boston fern. Eddie knows that, bare minimum, Steve cares about their plant babies and so when he ends up going on a week-long tour with Corroded Coffin, he doesn't worry too much about the little green souls that litter their apartment.

A week is a long time, and Eddie misses home so much that he doesn't announce himself as he barrels through the front door the following Saturday afternoon.

"Yeah, see? You’re doing great."

Eddie freezes in his tracks. Who the fuck is Steve talking to with that whispered voice? The one that, up until now, Eddie presumed was for him and him only. He knows he'd never cheat, but seriously, who's in their apartment?

"Atta girl, look at you! See, I told you, we'd figure this out."

He sets his bags down as quietly as he can, toes off his boots, and slowly pads along the beige carpet to peak around the corner to their living room.

Oh.

Steve's talking to their plants.

Eddie leans against the doorframe and watches as Steve smiles, wide and bright enough to replace the sun shining in through the streaky bay window, while moving from plant to plant, pot to pot, singing their praises and lavishing them with compliments and affirmation.

"You're growing so well!"

"See? I watered you and you popped right back up. You don't have to be dramatic about it."

"When your other dad gets home, we’ve gotta talk about repotting you. You're definitely outgrowing this pot."

Eddie clears his throat and Steve whirls around with a wild look in his eye that reminds him so much of the time he caught Dustin snooping in his campaign materials that he briefly wonders if Dustin and Steve actually are biologically related.

“Oh honey, I’m home!” Eddie singsongs and grins as he shoves away from the door jam, walking over to Steve who’s already rolling his eyes and groaning.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to feel a little jealous of the Boston fern over here.” Eddie gestures towards the large fern spilling over the sides of its planter. “You never tell me I’m growing so well.”

Steve sets down the watering bottle and pulls Eddie in closer, both arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Eddie melts, letting himself be held and loved. A week really is a long time.

“No, but I do tell you when you’re being dramatic,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips that’s more the touch of smiles than of mouths.

Eddie pulls back just enough to catch Steve’s gaze, warm and comforting. “You do realize that I’ll never let this go, right?”

Never. Always. Forever.

Eddie was never one for absolute language, except when it comes to Steve. He’ll never let him live this down, because he’ll always be here. Forever.

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’d sure hope not.”

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myfic #myblurbs #honestly my anxiety spiked at random so i spent a lot of time today tending my plant babies #and idk but then this happened!#plant dad eddie munson #plant dad steve harrington #steve is like the dad that didn't want the cat and then is the cat's best friend

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