i might redo this in a more fleshed out way some other time but for now im settling for just keeping it short & sweet
[mild stuffing]
Scritch shivered as he clip-clopped down the sidewalk. It was really getting into autumn now, and for a little critter from the fiery pits of Hell, it may as well have been the dead of winter. As if to add insult to injury, as he made his way up the block, it began to rain. He hurried his pace, hugging himself for warmth as he scurried along.
By the time he made it to his destination, between running and the weather getting to him, he was just about out of energy, now feeling chilled and lethargic. He was eager to get inside and warm up, hopefully with something good to eat. He hopped up the porch steps and knocked at the door. Nobody answered. He peeked into the window. The living room was dark. His heart sank, and his floppy ears and thin tail dropped limply. He was sure he'd had the time right; he'd promised Luna he'd be over for dinner, but she was nowhere in sight, nor were Bruce or Teddy, or even Stelian.
Scritch turned to look out at the world beyond the porch. The rain was coming down hard now, and the cold breeze blew the chilly mist onto him even as he cowered back away from it. He couldn't go back out. Even if it wasn't raining, he felt half-frozen by now; his body felt slow and stiff, and he doubted he'd make it to the end of the block before collapsing entirely. With a quiet whine, he sat down against the side of the house, trying to tuck himself behind one of the crappy little porch chairs for shelter. He pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged himself tightly. Maybe they'd be home soon. They were just running late. Surely somebody would come around before long. He flicked his ears and buzzed his wings, trying to get the water off them, and sniffled.
By the time his friends made it home, it was dark out, though Scritch didn’t know it. He’d long since fallen unconscious, and when they finally trudged up the porch steps, they found him curled up under the chair like a dog, shivering and sniffling, whimpering softly in his sleep. He didn't wake when Luna exclaimed in worry or when Bruce scooped him up into his arms, but he held onto Bruce, clinging to his warmth.
When Scritch woke up, he was inside on the couch, snuggled up against Teddy while Luna ruffled him dry with a soft towel. He still felt sore and sick, and a little disoriented, but he was warming up, cozy in Teddy's soft arms, and there was a pleasant smell in the air. He sniffled and stretched his wings. Luna gave his hair a final dry-off, and when she pulled the towel from his head, she was greeted with his sleepy eyes peering up at her from beneath the wild purple curls.
"Are you okay? I'm sorry we left you outside," she said, hugging him tight. "We got stuck in traffic for like, two hours."
"Bruce is making some soup," said Teddy. So that was what the smell was. Scritch's belly rumbled.
"I made some tea, too," said Luna, passing him a steaming mug, "so you can warm up while we wait."
"Thanks," said Scritch, holding the mug to his chest before taking a sip. The tea had a pleasantly spiced flavor, maybe chai or something like that, he couldn't quite tell. It was comforting and hot, though, and it made him feel warm and cozy from the inside out. Luna sat on his other side, and, sandwiched between his two friends with the hot tea in his belly, he began to feel much better. He was certain he'd caught a cold, but he didn't feel stiff and half-frozen anymore, and he was glad to not be alone. He was even more glad when Bruce cheerfully called out that dinner was ready.
While his friends had at least been able to have a snack in the car, Scritch hadn't eaten a thing since his early lunch, and he was feeling ravenous now. He was happy to join the group at the table and dig into a hot meal at last. It was a hearty baked potato soup, thick and creamy and carby and delicious. Scritch's ears flip flopped happily as he ate, tail swinging back and forth behind the chair, and he and his friends chatted over dinner, finally catching up after the long day. Scritch didn't have much to say, but he was perfectly content to listen while he enjoyed his soup.
He had a big appetite and an impressive capacity for such a little guy, but between the tea already in his stomach and the size of the bowl, Scritch soon began to feel full. He was glad for that. He'd been hungry all afternoon. Despite that feeling of fullness, which came to him about two thirds of the way through his meal, he finished the entire bowl, and by the time he did his belly felt stretched tight, though not unpleasantly so. The warm weight in his stomach was wonderfully comforting, even if the feeling of his jeans hugging his bulging tummy wasn't. He leaned back in his seat with a contented sigh, resting his hands atop his round belly.
"Full?" Luna half-teased, and Scritch nodded, a sleepy smile on his face. She gave his belly a friendly pat, and it made a firm thumping sound, like a melon.
Though his friends ordered him to hit the couch, Scritch insisted on helping clean up, his tummy sticking out comically from his small frame as he clip-clopped across the kitchen with a stack of dishes like a tiny waiter. When it finally was time to hit the couch, though, he practically melted into it. He was exhausted earlier from his tough journey and being stuck out in the cold, but now, with a full, warm belly weighing him down, he felt about ready to doze off. And, as a matter of fact, snuggled up against Teddy's soft lap while Luna rubbed his velvety tummy, he did.