This is my half of an art trade with Laitie :) She wrote me a very cute Munku and Misto fic filled with snowy cuteness :D You should read, it's called 'Cloud Stuff' and it's in my faves :)

Anywho, this is a story based on an idea my friend and I were discussing (based on a movie where a girl nearly got cooked by her parents in the house oven O.O) and I was all 'I should do this for the lolz' She probably won't read it because she's anti-CATS so whatev.

On account of my other stories, I am still working on them. I'm just in the process of preparing another story while juggling tutoring, dance, heavy coursework, my non-existent social life, and learning to drive! But I shall finish those soon :) But be prepared for an uncoming fic that I've been busting me arse on for the past couple months :D

Enjoy :)

Quaxo sniffed boredly, rolling over onto his side to stare out the gloomy, gray window. It had been raining outside all morning and he was almost sure he'd die from the overwhelming boredom. It had been almost a week since he had moved into Munkustrap's human home and he was a bit ashamed to admit that he had already begun longing for the unlimited life of a stray.

Now, why had he moved in, you ask? Why would such an independent, mysterious magician find the need for a human domain? Well, it wasn't his choice, really. After having a terrible run-in with some alley cats that had managed to snag him as he was heading towards his junkyard home, life got just a bit difficult with two broken legs and moderate concussion. Luckily Munkustrap had also been heading towards the junkyard, managing to save him from being the butt end of a really bad joke. Really bad and terribly composed.

Now, he lay next to the tabby in the milk crate that the eldest human son had deemed his 'home' until they could figure out what to do with him. He hypothesized that they were going to put him down, though Munkustrap bitterly disagreed. Everlasting, he hoped the tabby was right. He sighed again as he stretched out his legs, deliberately pushing his feet up against the silver tabby's back. The other let out a soft sigh of exasperation; Quaxo wasn't the only one suffering from his restlessness and rapidly growing cabin fever. "Problem?" he muttered, still half asleep.

"I'm bored, Munk," Quaxo groaned, draping his legs over his friend's side casually. "Let's go do something. The family's out for the afternoon." Munkustrap feigned contemplation, turning his head to the side to catch a glance at his hyperactive comrade. "They'll be back soon, and you need your rest if you're hoping to get any better," he nodded towards Quaxo's affected front legs, both professionally bandaged by none other than the family pediatric doctor, also known as 'Dad'.

"I'm fine," he scoffed, stretching out to show just how 'fine' he was. Not as limber and pain free as he'd hope, but he'd never let the other know that.

"Yeah, ok!" Munkustrap laughed incredulously. "Do what you like, Quaxo, but you're only asking to stay in this crate longer..." it took him a few seconds to finally realize that the younger tom had already jumped out of the crate and was trotting for the rest of the house.

He'd never really seen the house other than the living room and the young girl's room when she'd taken him out of his crate his first night there. He hadn't really appreciated the grand tour back then, but now he was rested and up for the adventure.

He padded softly into the main foyer, stopping to gaze at the new world with savage interest. Everything here seemed so foreign! Sure, he'd seen a lot of these things in the junkyard, but not when they were still fresh and usable; it gave him an eerie feeling. He decided to turn down the hallway to check out a doorway he'd spotted squatting underneath the stairs.

The door led him to another little den area. This one, unlike the living room he'd stayed in, was lined with shiny structures and pictures of happy times. The only one's he had ever seen were either smashed, burned, scratched out with marker, or the faces were cut out. It was amazing how well these humans took care of their things!

Hungry for more, the tiny tux continued his search once his interest for the current room had died off. He eventually found himself stepping onto the linoleum of the kitchen; it felt so smooth and cool on the pads of his paws, it was really nice. The whole room was bright and clean, the smell of lemons and some strong, nose tickling smell that he couldn't quite identify.

He figured he'd start along the walkway, it seemed high enough to give him a good view of everything. With some challenge, and a bit of magic to give him a little boost, the young tom finally managed to pull himself over the edge of the marble boardwalk. He rubbed his arms absently as he began his inspection of the higher world. "Hey, Munk! I can see you from up here," Quaxo called from his little perch. The little crate made a tiny shuffling noise before the silver striped tom peeked his head over the rim.

"Get down from there," he hissed warningly. "The family'll be back really soon, and if you mess up their home they will put you down." Quaxo's eyes grew a fraction wider at the concept, he wasn't sure whether or not Munkustrap was bluffing; he had quite the pokerface. But he did know that, if it were true, he would have personally come over and get him down himself. Since the tabby never made any visible effort to move or condemn him more, he decided to call his bluff.

"I'll simply leave. It's not like they can catch the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees! I am undetainable!"

Suddenly, like a wall of bricks, he was overcome with a familiar (not to mention extremely mouth watering due to the fact it wasn't cold or decomposing) scent that no cat in the world could resist: turkey!

Following the scent, he eventually found himself standing on a clean, well polished stove. The appliance was warmed pleasantly under his paws, though the heat not nearly as pleasant as what sat inside. Odd, he thought momentarily, this stove is warm yet it does not sit in the sun. Quaxo practically drooled all over the stove top. How could Munkustrap stand being in this house with those humans cooking all this food?

Glancing back to the milk crate, Quaxo made sure that Munkustrap wasn't still watching him. He wasn't. Silently, he leaned forward and began brushing the air in front of the over door with smooth strokes until the door began to slowly drop forward. The smell was overpowering! It was the most delicious scent he'd ever encountered.

As he leaned forward, however, he got lost in the hot aroma, growing slightly drowsy. It wasn't until he found himself tottering forward that he'd realized he was leaning too far over. Instinctively, he steadied himself to land on the ground, but ended up connecting his chest with the door. He gripped the handle on the outside as hard as he could and, managing a small scream, called out to his comrade in the next room. "Munk..." he squeaked when the grip on one of his paws gave way.

"Everlasting, Quaxo!" Munkustrap roared, nearly stumbling over the edge of his makeshift bed as he shot forward expertly. The door suddenly jerked and the tux went sliding into the oven, landing roughly next to the cooked bird. Immediately, all the cool air that was dragged in behind him was warmed up and the young tom found himself breaking a sweat within 10 seconds of being in the appliance.

Munkustrap cursed loudly before jumping up onto the stove top. He looked to the panel for the controls, staring dumbly at the unusual markings and pictures. Unlike his father, Munkustrap couldn't read human lettering. He decided to go with the colours on the tiny buttons. One was circled in green with a little insignia in the middle, another was red with a little 'X' in it, and the last blue with the picture of a cooked bird. He couldn't read human symbols either!

Down below, Quaxo was frantically banging away at the glass window. He could feel the sweat seep through his fur, he groaned miserably when he realized that he was most likely collecting all the heat simply by his dark, ebony coat. Damn. He was so confused; how could this be so hot? Never had a stove been this hot on the inside in the junkyard, even in the summer, it was always cool and damp.

Munkustrap bit his lip. Blue meant 'cool', right? But it had a bird on it! You don't cool a bird in an oven! Red seemed the best choice but the colour usually meant something was warm or heating. What if he ended up with a roast Quaxo? He decided to take a chance with the red; he could always press the other buttons if it didn't work... right? He hammered the fair sized button and immediately let a rush of air when the display screen turned blank.

Quaxo couldn't tell if the smell in the oven was the bird or him. He was sweating so much that he was sure he'd drown before he cooked. What was Munkustrap doing? Where was he? He sure hoped that the striped tabby was above the 'learn your lesson' technique his brother so regularly practiced. Last time he 'learned his lesson' from Tugger was when he'd called him a bore. That earned him three hours on the dirty junkyard floor with the Tugger sitting heavily on his back, retelling a very boring series of Gus's stories and cracking his joints mercilessly. He never called him another name since... Well, to his face anyway.

The light inside the over suddenly flickered off, the red rings below dimmed to a light-less rod. He wasn't entirely sure, but he wondered if the temperature had started to go down. It wasn't long before scuffling and scratching noises from above filled the dying chamber.

A rush of cold air washed over him, the temperature change so intense it almost made him want to stay inside the climate controlled appliance.

"Quaxo, are you alright?" came Munkustrap's panicked voice. It mimicked Jenny's Mother Hen shrieking quite well, though a few octaves lower. It would have had him giggling at the masculine tom were it not for the fact that he'd just saved him from becoming the family's next meal. He swayed for a moment before before nodding his head, still recovering from the change in air pressure. He was taken by the paw and elbow before being led away from the simmering bird.

"You're just lucky it wasn't actually set to cook," the older tom chuckled awkwardly. Quaxo frowned momentarily, it wasn't like Munkustrap to be nervous or awkward. But then again, how do you start a conversation after you pull someone out of an oven? The whole scenario made him feel awkward as well.

"I feel so silly," Quaxo chuckled nervously. He honestly felt more than a little silly, but that was as far as his little confession would go, the rest would be just embarrassing.

Munkustrap laughed outright at that. "Well, you should feel lucky. Not only have you survived 5 minutes in an oven, but you've single handedly managed to trap the undetainable Mr. Mistoffelees. I think you should get some award for your accomplishments."

"Silence is all I ask," Quaxo requested.

"But that's no fun!" Munkustrap frowned teasingly as they approached the milk crate, Quaxo now walking sturdily on his own now that the shock had worn off. He still kept a steady paw on his elbow just in case it was only temporary. Despite Quaxo's joking demeanor, he knew that his heart was racing incredibly, he surely had given himself quite a scare. "I want to gloat and rub in how right I was; it would be a good example for the kittens. Of course, we'd have to over-exaggerate your 'injuries' for the sake of getting the point across..."

"And that would be...?"

"That you should always listen to me," Munkustrap stated simply as he hoisted Quaxo into his plush bed, jumping in behind him. Quaxo huffed a chuckle before curling himself up into a tight ball, extremely exhausted and rattled from his near-death experience. After a few moments of fighting off sleep, Munkustrap gave him a wicked grin. "You should get some rest. I'll keep watch for any rampant appliances," he winked.

"Ha ha, you are a true card, my friend." With that, he rested his head on the blanket and allowed himself to fall asleep next to the tabby.

After a few minutes of silent sleep, Munkustrap looked to his young friend. He carefully placed a thin blanket on the shivering tux, hoping the heat he'd collect would chase off the chills. Quaxo absently shrugged and almost instantly kicked off the blanket, it seemed as though the wicked sunburn he'd gotten was already sensitive. It was a shame that he couldn't tell anyone how he got it in the winter.