Note: written for the Free-For-All-Fic-For-All at the AskTheSquishykins tumblr.

Prompt: Squishykins falls asleep in front of his henchwomen.

This is CATverse, taking place just before Christmas when Kitten is three.

A direct reference to "Cat Xmas Montage" by AdAbsurdum on deviantart, which came first.

The girls were more than a little too excited about Christmas. Jonathan wasn't interested their holiday traditions or in the company of "friends," so when they said Jervis and Edward were coming over to bake cookies, he retreated to his room.

Ordinarily, he would have gone to the lab instead, but he had been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and for once, there was no work to be done.

Only one day of consciousness and he already wanted a nap. Maybe he was getting old.

Before he could get anywhere near the bed, Kitten toddled in after him, dragging a book that was almost as big as she was.

"No," he said.

She held the book up to him.

"No. I'm going to bed. Why don't you go bother your mother?"

She did that…thing that made her eyes look enormous.

"Please wead to me, Squishy?"

He made a sound that can only be conveyed as "grr," and threw himself down on the battered sofa that the girls had shoved into his room when they'd found a bigger one to put in front of the TV. Kitten scrambled up onto his lap, one finger in her mouth. He opened the book.

"In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town…"

By the time he reached the description of Katrina van Tassel, Kitten was asleep. Quietly, Jonathan closed the book.

Without opening her eyes, she grabbed a handful of his sweater and tugged.

"Don't stop."

He shifted into a more comfortable position, with his head pillowed on the arm rest, and kept going.

He read about roasting pigs with apples in their mouths, geese in gravy, onion sauce, bacon and ham. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it and pressed on through turkey, sausage, fields of corn and orchards burdened with ruddy fruit.

The smells of cookies and chicken pot pie were wafting in from the kitchen. The book drooped. Kitten was sound asleep. He would go and put her in bed, just as soon as he took a minute to rest his eyes.

He didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching his door, or the stifled gasp that followed.

The footsteps receded. A minute later, three sets approached. But by then, a herd of elephants wouldn't have woken him.