A/N: Just a little bit of random fun and procrastination, on my part. Written mainly because I need a break from all the angst I normally churn out… and also because this world most definitely needs more TuggerMisto. This story was originally going to be a One-Shot, but it was too long so I've split it up into a few chapters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Cats.

Please don't forget to review!

000

"Rum," Misto began that Saturday morning, with his head buried in the humans' clothes-basket, "Have you seen my – "

"Nup."

"What?"

"I haven't seen it."

The smaller tom wriggled out of the clothes-basket, not noticing that he'd gotten a sock stuck on one ear in the process. He leaned forward on his mitten-white paws and fixed his housemate with an enquiring look.

The housemate in question only shrugged his black shoulders.

"What?" Tugger said again, his voice coming out as a smooth, bored drawl. "It's true. I haven't."

"What haven't you seen, Rum?"

"What you're looking for, Misty. Obviously."

"But I didn't tell you what I was looking for."

"It's called intuition, Misty-boy," offered the Maine Coon with a dramatic sigh, although the bored look didn't fade from his eyes. "Bastet's gift to intelligent felines. Distributed only to the most deserving of our species. I, for example, have exhibited this most exquisite talent ever since the start of my kittenhood – "

"Are you sure you haven't seen it?" Misto interrupted, fortunately before Tugger got too carried away. "I swear it was put through the laundry last week..."

"Then check the laundry."

"It's not there."

"Well, I don't know about you, Misty, but that fact alone would indicate to me that it wasn't put through the laundry last week."

The little tuxedo licked his paw half-heartedly, his tail tracing patterns on the carpet as he thought.

"Can't you just magic it out of the air or something?" Tugger pointed out, rather unhelpfully. "You know, abracadabra, open sesame, bim-bada-boom?" He sighed at Mistoffelees' blank-looking stare. "Or just use a different one, for Bast's sake. It won't kill you, I promise."

Misto licked his paw again fretfully, as if hoping the action would somehow bring the missing item back – by magic. No little black bow-tie appeared out of thin air however, much to the tuxedo's great disappointment.

"You know I can't conjure anything up without it, Rum."

"Funny you say that, kid, because I distinctly remember you saying those exact same words a month ago about the glitter."

"That was different!"

"Yeah, yeah." Tugger waved a paw in languid dismissal, although a grin was building at the all-too-prominent memory. He was becoming animated now, the boredom fading. Teasing Mistoffelees was always prime fun. "Should I make you sneeze again, Misty, to bring the magic back? Give you a bit of help like last time, eh? Though we shouldn't try it here, you might cut off the National Grid. Again."

Misto went a slight shade of magenta, but tried gallantly to mask it with a hiss. "Throwing pepper in my face does not constitute helping, Rum."

"Yeah, but it got you your magic back, didn't it?"

"Only because you put my tail in the toaster."

The maned tom shrugged, lacing twin paws behind his head. The grin had morphed into a smirk now, and it was obvious that he was quite enjoying himself.

"Stress brings out the best in everyone, Misty-boy. It's the adrenaline. Works a treat. Although," he admitted, "setting your tail on fire wasn't part of the idea. That was pure accident. The best-laid plans, eh?"

"What plan?" Misto retorted. "Planning requires thinking, Rum, which is a gift Bastet has not endowed you with, no matter what you might think."

"Hey!"

"It's the truth."

Tugger pouted. "Fine. If that's how you feel, then I won't tell you where your bow-tie is."

Misto's ears pricked forward immediately, causing the errant sock to fall onto his shoulder. Tugger chuckled from the bed, entertained, as the little black-and-white tom jumped in surprise and leapt away, hissing.

"Whoa, jittery today, Misty. Better get the blinkers on, eh?"

"Shut up." Misto padded away from the offending sock, looking a bit sheepish. "What were you just saying about knowing where my bow-tie was? I thought you'd said two minutes ago that you hadn't seen it."

Tugger began preening his profuse mane, keeping his voice airy and vague. "Did I? Hmm."

"Yes, you did."

"Just goes to show how temperamental I am, doesn't it?"

Misto sighed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Sure am, Misty-boy."

"Come on, Rum, just tell me where my bow-tie is, so I don't have to go on digging through every clothes-drawer in this entire house."

Tugger paused in his grooming to grin.

"What bow-tie?" he said, obviously switching tactics and now aiming for the wide-eyed-innocence angle. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen a bow-tie. Especially not one that might belong to you. Nup."

Misto rolled his eyes. "Very mature, Rum."

Tugger's only response was to poke his tongue out, which of course simply served to prove Misto's point – a fact which the Maine Coon only seemed to realise afterwards, upon which he promptly went about trying to rearrange his features into a stern expression, only to fail miserably in the attempt. The Rum Tum Tugger just couldn't look serious. When he tried it only seemed comical, somehow.

"Of course I'm mature, Mr Mistoffelees. I would have you know that I'm the very epitome of – "

"Can you just tell me where my bow-tie is, Tugger?"

The bright gold-brown eyes surveyed him slyly, all joking mannerisms gone in an instant. "And what do I get in return, eh?"

"Tugger, be serious."

"I am being serious, Misty-boy."

The little magic cat glared, his ears flattened down against his skull. Tugger could be so annoying.

The Tugger, for his part, only smiled widely back. Anything to prolong the torture.

Misto sighed.

"Rum," he said warningly, "if you don't tell me where my bow-tie is, I will set your tail on fire by putting it into the toaster the next time you're asleep, and I can promise you I won't stick around to turn the power off when it happens."

The Maine Coon looked at him. Unlaced his paws from behind his head.

And then Misto watched as Tugger leapt off the bed, sauntering towards him with his thick tail high in the air.

"That may be, Misty-boy," the larger tom purred when he was close enough, "but if you can't find your bow-tie, then you can't even make so much as a spark, can you?"

Misto glared back irritably. "Oh, I don't know. I might just happen to sneeze fortuitously."

"Good luck with that, then. I'm off to the junkyard."

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?"

Tugger actually had the nerve to wink at him.

"Nup!" he chirped as he headed towards the door.

000

Had circumstances been different, Misto would most certainly have set Tugger's posterior alight by now and sent him scuttling towards the water dish. Of course, that would be showing leniency. Misto was, by nature, a merciful cat. He himself knew that although the Maine Coon deserved a whole-body frying, he did not have the heart to carry that through.

The posterior it was, then. Misto could wait.

The bow-tie in question had vanished mysteriously the week before. Mistoffelees had, of course, already confronted the main suspects – the raucous twin-act that was Jerrie and Teazer. Both had professed in copious amounts of Cockney-flavoured English that neither had seen it, noit seen't et awll, an' as a matt'r o'fact, noither could e'en remember whut th' 'ell the blarst'd thoing look'd loik.

"It's just – it's black," Mistoffelees had tried to explain. "Black silk bow-tie, I wore it at the Jellicle Ball, remember?"

"Noit a blarsted clue," Mungojerrie had said with an apologetic grin.

"Maybe tha' ol' Rum Tum Tugga's go' et, eh?" Rumpelteazer had suggested. "'e seems ta me t' be th' one 'o'd pinch et, ya know? 'Im bein' th' cat tha' 'e is."

And as a matter of fact, Misto found himself leaning towards that theory. Sitting in the junkyard, watching as the Maine Coon entertained the girl-kits in the clearing below with plentiful hip gyrations and winks all 'round, the idea did not seem that farfetched.

He had stolen the glitter before, after all. Mistoffelees had caught him a week after the sneezing incident, hiding in a linen cupboard in the human bedroom upstairs, trying to brush the shiny powder through his mane.

Misto scoffed inwardly at the memory. A glittering mane? Talk about vanity. Tugger didn't even have the excuse of being a magician. And anyway, he'd looked ridic –

"Misty!"

Said tom winced and tried to flatten himself closer to the ground.

Tugger didn't take the hint, however. But then again, he rarely did. "Misty! Hey! Misty!"

Misto sighed. He hated it when Tugger called him that in public. At home, okay, maybe that was forgivable. They were housemates, after all. But in the junkyard? With his own sister watching?

Right on cue, Victoria shot him an amused look from a tattered sofa nearby.

Misty? her raised eyebrows seemed to say.

Misto shrank further into the ground. This was, he decided, all in all a primary instance of the would-be usefulness of magic. Had Mistoffelees been in possession of his bow-tie, just a twitch of the whiskers would have been enough to not only allow himself to disappear gracefully from the junkyard, but also to give Tugger a nasty rash (which was always a bonus whenever one could achieve it, and especially when the girl-kits were watching).

No such luck today, however. The Tugger had best be thankful.

"Misty!"

The Rum Tum Tugger found him behind a junk-pile, pressed to the ground on all fours as if Bustopher Jones had steam-rollered him.

"Er, Misty, what are you doing?"

All he got was a very heated glare. "Don't – call – me – that – in – public!"

"Call you what, kid?"

"Misty! My name is Mistoffelees, or Misto, or even Quaxo – but not Misty!"

"Hey, chill it, kid," Tugger said, looking extremely amused. "Don't bust a blood vessel. You won't have any magic to fix it, ya know."

Misto glared at him again.

"Speaking of which," he snapped, "I want my bow-tie back."

"I don't have it, Misty-boy."

"I just told you not to call – "

"But," the Maine Coon cut in, actually leaning in to place a paw over his fuming housemate's muzzle, "I know exactly where you could find said bow-tie, Misty-boy, if you'd only just quit your nattering to listen."

Irritation on Misto's part was instantly replaced by a well-grounded suspicion.

"So you do have it," the tuxedo tom hissed. His voice came out a little muffled from under Tugger's paw. "You'd better give it back, Rum, or else I'll – "

"Yeah, yeah, you'll stick my tail in a toaster, I know. Sheesh. Way to be unoriginal."

"You better believe I'd do it, Tugger."

"Well, you can threaten me all you like, Misty, but the facts are the facts. I don't have your bow-tie."

"Then who does?"

Tugger's claw tickled the side of Misto's jaw. "Nobody, kid. It's in a room all on its lonesome in the house. Our human house. Upstairs."

Misto was suddenly struck with the memory of a not-so-long-ago incident involving the Maine Coon and a particular linen cupboard. The thought actually made him giggle. The Rum Tum Tugger, with a bow-tie and glitter? Absolutely hilarious.

Not that he'd appreciate being told so to his face.

"What're ya laughing at, kid?"

"Never mind. So which room, Tugger? I hope for your sake that it's not the linen cupboard. No offense, but a bow-tie isn't quite your look, you know."

The Tugger shot him a strange, disturbed look, as if he'd just suggested they all take a dive into the nearest active volcano.

"Er, no thanks kid, let's leave that alone," he muttered, unconsciously touching his own spiked collar as if to reassure himself that it was, in fact, still there. "I wouldn't touch that thing if you bit me. I didn't nick it, Misty, if that's what you're getting at."

Misto still had his doubts, but decided to let it go.

"Alright then, where is it?" he said.

"It's in a room."

"...and?"

"That's it, kid. It's in a room."

"Which room, Rum?" Misto snapped then, losing his patience all over again.

The Rum Tum Tugger shrugged, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide his blossoming grin. "Oh, it's a locked room, Misty. The only locked room on the upstairs floor. It has a whitish door, and a big brass doorknob, and a keyhole, and carpet running under the door, and... do you really need me to continue, Misty-boy?"

"Oh, Rum, you're joking."

"Sure am not, kid."

"This isn't about the third room again, is it?"

"Could be."

Misto sat back up and rubbed his eyes with his paws, feebly hoping that he was imagining the entire conversation.

No such luck there, either.

"Rum, I've told you before, I am not going to help you get into that room. And I can't now anyway, I don't have any magic. I can't even levitate a feather, let alone unlock that door."

"You can help."

Misto fixed him with a narrowed glare. "I just told you, I don't have any – "

"That might be, but your sense of smell is still the best in the junkyard, kid. You could sniff out the keys for me and stuff."

"I'm not a Pollicle," Misto snapped irritably. "I'm not going to 'sniff out' keys for you, Rum. You can do that yourself."

"Well, if you want your bow-tie back, you don't have a choice, Misty-boy."

Mistoffelees tried again. "Look, Rum, why don't you just give me back my bow-tie, and then I'd have my magic back, wouldn't I? And then I'd be able to open the stupid door for you and you can just waltz into the room without all this sneaking around and snuffling business. Sound like a plan?"

Tugger pretended to think about it. "Let's see... no."

"Why not?"

"Because from the look on your face I know that as soon as you get your bow-tie back, you're going to zap me unconscious and dump me in the nearest lake." Tugger paused, then tapped his chin thoughtfully before adding: "...and then skip home whistling to throw yourself a party."

Damn, thought Misto sulkily to himself. Can never hide anything from that stupid cat.

"And anyway," Tugger continued, patting Misto sagely on his black-furred head, "I don't have your bow-tie, Misty. So I couldn't give it back if I'd wanted to. Not that I would, mind. This is much more fun."

Misto repressed the urge to blow up at the term 'fun', instead opting to focus on the task at hand.

"...so you really don't have my bow-tie."

"Nup."

"Is the bow-tie really in that room, or are you just trying to recruit me into your little mission, Rum?"

Tugger considered it, tilting his head to one side. "A bit of both," he admitted.

"Both? How can it be both? It's either in the room, or it's not in the room, there's not really any in-between ground here – "

"Oh don't be such a terrible bore, Misty," the Maine Coon interrupted, winking and clipping him over the ear with his tail. "I'm about fifty-percent sure it's in the room, and I'm about fifty-percent sure I want you on my little 'mission', so if you add both together you get one-hundred-percent. So I'm one-hundred-percent sure that you should stop being such a wet kitty-blanket and meet me in front of the locked room at eleven o'clock tonight after our humans have gone to sleep. Sound like a plan?"

Misto's only reply was a drawn-out hiss.

Tugger just chuckled and patted him on the head again with a paw.

"That's the spirit," he said cheerfully. "Always knew you'd come around, Misty-boy."

000

"You know," Mistoffelees said drily at twelve minutes past eleven, watching as Tugger attempted to climb up the door with his claws, "This whole thing reminds me of something I read about once in a book."

One of Tugger's claws came free from the wood and he fell away from the door with a loud yowl, landing on all fours next to Mistoffelees, panting.

"Eh, kid?" he said, still out of breath. "Whad'ya say?"

"I said, this entire thing reminds me of something I read in a book."

"Really?" Tugger gave him a breathless grin. "Did they get the door unlocked in the end?"

Misto sighed and began to wash his paws, as if Tugger's sweaty, uncharacteristically unkempt appearance had inspired in him a new vigour for personal hygiene.

"It wasn't about cats, Rum," he explained between licks. "It was about humans. It was a human book."

"Right."

Misto paused in his cleaning. "You ever heard of Pandora, Tugger?"

The Maine Coon flashed him a trademark high-wattage grin in reply. "Sure I have, kid. Somewhere near Burma, isn't it?"

"Rum, Pandora is a human name."

"A Burmese human name?"

"A Greek name." Misto sighed, exasperated. "It doesn't even sound Burmese, for Bast's sake. Anyway, you're missing the point. The point is, we shouldn't even be trying to open this door. Our humans told us specifically not to. It's locked for a reason. What if there's something dangerous in there?"

"Oh, is 'ittle Misty scared?" the Tugger prodded then with a smirk.

"Well I don't know about you, but personally I would like to remain bodily intact for as long as possible, yes, Tugger."

"Too bad."

The larger tom leaned back on his haunches, peering up at the doorknob which seemed impossibly high. No cat could climb that high up a wall with his claws. Not without a strategically-positioned curtain nearby. Or perhaps a window.

Unless...

"What has a Burmese human got to do with anything anyway, eh, Misty?" Tugger said absently, his mind elsewhere. Yes, the humans had a hat-rack downstairs by the front door, if he remembered correctly...

"She's Greek," Misto tried again, then gave up with a sigh. "Ugh, whatever. Well, according to the story, Pandora was the first female human in the world, and one day the gods gave her a box – wait, where are you going?"

Tugger's voice came wafting airily over his right shoulder.

"Just downstairs, I'll be back in a moment..."

"What? Why are you going downstairs?"

"Change of plan."

Misto's ears pricked up hopefully. "Really? So we're not breaking into the room after all? Are you going to give me back my bow-tie now?"

"If you're a good kitty, Misty-boy, you'll get your bow-tie back in due time."

That wasn't exactly the answer Mistoffelees had been hoping for, and his ears drooped down again. "In other words, no," he muttered to himself, trailing after his housemate irritably.

"Spot on, Misty."

"Then what are you – "

"Patience, Mistoffelees, patience," the Rum Tum Tugger half-sang as he slid down the banister of the main staircase before leaping nimbly to the tile below. Misto chose a more conventional method of descending the stairs, padding down each step silently on snow-white mittens. "Genius cannot be rushed, it must emerge of its own accord, kid. And when my plan reveals itself, as it no doubt will soon, then you may acknowledge freely its ingenuity and perfection. But in the meantime, you'll just have to stow the praise. Tough, I know, but that's life, kid."

Misto bit back a caustic retort, deciding it was no use reasoning with the Tugger anyway. The Maine Coon was stubborn, a trait for which he was renowned in the junkyard, aside from his usual arrogance and his pelvic dexterity; and Misto himself knew better than any other Jellicle that the more you argued against him doing something, the more perversely tempted he was to do it.

The trick was to encourage him until he tired of it himself.

But then again, encouraging the Rum Tum Tugger was always dangerous. You could always end up nudging him a little too far, and then he'd wind up doing whatever it was anyway.

Or you could always distract him, like that time Mistoffelees had conjured up seven kittens from a hat to stop the Rum Tum Tugger from...

Wait.

Misto stopped next to his housemate, who was now staring up at the very top-hat in question, poised up on the top of the human hat-rack.

The little tuxedo frowned. What was Tugger doing? He was looking at the hat-rack, and at the coat one of the humans had hung on it only that evening, and then at Mistoffelees...

The true details of Tugger's plan smacked him upside of the head.

"Oh no," he whispered in realisation as Tugger turned to look at him with a barely-concealed smirk. "No. I'm not doing it, Tugger. No. I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not! You're insane! The thing would fall over!"

"You're lighter than me, Misty, if I went – "

"Whatever happened to the keys idea?" Misto pointed out wildly. "Let's just find the keys, yes? Find the keys. Then we'll just unlock the door, no problems, no need for this – this – "

"Do you want your bow-tie or not, kid?"

"You said you were only fifty-percent sure it was in that room!"

"Yeah, well – "

"Then I'll take my chances on the other fifty-percent! I'm not going to drag that stupid hat-rack all the way upstairs with you, and then have to climb up it to open a stupid locked door, Rum; and anyway the humans will hear us and they'll wake up and neither of us will get fish paste for at least a month!"

Tugger flicked his tail playfully, seemingly enjoying the panicked look on Misto's face.

"They won't hear us, Misty-boy, they're humans, remember? And the keys idea isn't going to work, I saw the female human take the entire bunch of them with her into her bedroom."

Misto hissed loudly, his whiskers twitching in his unease. "Tugger, I still don't want – "

"Oh come on, if you're that keen on fish paste I'm sure I can get Jemima or someone to find you some."

"That's not the point, Tugger, and you know it isn't!"

"Has this got to do with the stupid Burmese human story again?" Tugger padded over to his companion, gleefully tweaking the tuxedo's nose with his tail. "I always said to Munks that you read too much, kid."

Mistoffelees resisted the urge to sneeze, swatting away Tugger's tail with a paw.

"I don't read too much," he said crossly. "You just read too little. That is, if you can read. And anyway, if we don't have the keys, how am I supposed to open the door even if I get up on the hat-rack? Hypothetically speaking, that is, because I'm not going to do it."

Tugger shrugged. "Dunno."

"You don't know," Misto repeated.

"Nup."

"...are you serious, Rum? You didn't think of that tiny problem beforehand?"

"Well, Misty-boy, I figured we could always use a straightened-out coat-hanger or something."

Misto's ears flattened against his head-fur. A coat-hanger. Well, only the Rum Tum Tugger could have come up with something like that...

"I have the slightest feeling, Rum, that a coat-hanger is not going to help us. Just a slight feeling."

"Well, I dunno. I saw it in a human movie once."

Misto sighed, deciding to take it all as a blessing. After all, if they couldn't get anything to unlock the door, then the entire hat-rack debacle would be unnecessary. Misto had no desire to risk life and limb (and a month of fish paste) just so Tugger could satisfy his avid curiosity.

"Just give it up, Rum," he said. "Come on. It's not worth it, anyway. We'll go to all the trouble of opening it and then find it's just full of something boring, like a guest bedroom or something."

Tugger pouted childishly. "But I want to know! And don't you want your bow-tie back?"

"I think we've already established that the bow-tie is not in that room, Tugger."

"But it is."

"Too bad, I know you're bluffing."

"Hey, hey, Misto, come back! No, wait, I have an idea. Wait!"

Mistoffelees snorted and kept walking. Stupid Tugger. The bow-tie was probably lost somewhere in the junkyard, or perhaps even in the house's back garden; at any rate, Misto was going to get a nice, long sleep, and then in the morning he'd sniff around a bit –

Misto gave a sudden squeak of surprise as the Maine Coon pounced – right onto his tail.

"Oww! Tugger! Get off – !"

"Just hear me out, alright kid? Come on, Misty. Please?"

"No!" Misto was fuming. "Now get off my tail, Rum! That hurts!"

"I'm not getting off until you hear me out. I have an idea, Misty-boy. It's a good one."

"As good as the last one?" Misto offered wryly, just about ready to unsheathe his claws in irritation.

"Almost." The Tugger gave him a cheeky look. "You just gotta trust me on this, alright, Misty? I know what I'm doing. This idea's good, I promise."

For some reason, the smarmy wink that followed didn't exactly reassure Mistoffelees at all.

Don't worry, the romance is coming along soon. I just don't want to hurry them. Hurrying it just seems… disrespectful to their characters, somehow.

Anyway, please don't forget to review and tell me what you think!