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Mojave’s blank staring made him feel self conscious. A sharp inhale and he tucked his belly and legs closer, clearing his throat as slush fell upon his water-proofed coat. The ice beneath him was foggy, glossy. He was now watching the licks of flame against snow and permafrost, unable to maintain eye contact with the wolf across from him. Rancor could feel his mind slowly growing weak and weary, surely soiled by his exhausted state. I don’t know, Bored and drifting off, he started to close his eyes. Maybe… Cinderclan finally blew up their volcano, and now the whole island is covered in ash. Sarcasm.

Ceta, his shoulders hurt. He was hardly listening when– Wait, now he was. What was Mojave saying? His nose wrinkled in concern, and then lips curled in immediate disgust. Teeth glowed more red than much else, his face adopting a mortified look. I- Stammer. How was he meant to respond to that? Forearms bunched and he pushed himself off of the ground, tail lifting angrily. WHAT?

Ears pulled back, cheeks pushed up against his eyes and his brows furrowed, lips straightened. Well. Fuck. (What am I supposed to say?!?) Starting to step back, a whine escaped his maw and his knees buckled. (Ceta’s blessing I die right here right now.) Shoulders starting to tense, he realized with a dull pain in the back of his head that he would not be going anywhere. Great. He was stuck with the homosexual in front of the gay pink fire and he couldn’t leave. Mojave probably planned this all out.

Was probably gonna, like, kiss him too. Or something. Black and white face contorted in concern, and then consideration. That didn’t sound that bad.

WHAT. EW? You are a disgusting freak of nature– He was cut off by his attempt to stand and growl, which sent him back to the icy ground. Fumbling, he flipped over to face his back to Mojave. Take me out of your head RIGHT now. That wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. Because now HE was tormented by the very thought! Oh, how horrible! Honestly! It’s wolves like YOU who are the reason everything in Ferinine is the way it is. Marching around and defying the law of nature. How would a family even have two dads? Puppies were only supposed to have one parent.

A prolonged, hostile silence followed his ill-mannered outburst, the crackling of fire, ice and water filling the air. Rancor laid there bitterly, face flush with warmth and peculiar awkward itching. Now, He barked, ears perked and face still angled out toward the bright snowy distance. Because I’ve done that for you–THE LISTENING–I need YOU to do something for ME. And because you’re lucky that I am VERY NICE, it’s not leaving and never returning. He was very kind to not chase this man off right here right now himself, really.

More silence, and he finally spoke. Need you to rub my shoulder.

Silence again.

Not in a gay way. I was going to say that before you said that but I didn’t. Swimming for so long has absolutely ruined my arms and I think there’s something wrong there. What a god-damn save.