every kiss a cursive line || clayfur

[CLEARSIGHT]

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➵ Clearsight's returned from another successful hunt—those are so much scarcer now, so he thanks StarClan for every scrap of luck as leafbare settles in. The fresh-kill pile is dwindling by the day, but today at least there is enough to go around. To see Willowroot fed, along with RiverClan's youngest and oldest, with leftovers for warriors.

Still, he chooses carefully. Selects something smaller, a fish with enough meat on its bones to feed one cat well enough. (He plans to subtly give most of it to Clayfur—he'll eat properly later, he tells himself, if the leftovers leave leftovers.)

Gillpaw is taking a well-deserved break, so the blue tabby heads for the warriors' den, hoping to find his love there.

He'll peek inside, purring when he spots the man, comforted already the moment he catches sight of that warm earthen fur. He sidles up to Clayfur, purring an affectionate greeting and brushing their pelts together, and drops the fish at his paws.

"Morning, honey," Clearsight murmurs, touching his nose to Clay's cheek in a chaste kiss. "How are you holding up?"

It's the wintry edition of how are you doing, in a season of so much death. Leaf-bare has been kind to them so far, at least... absently Clear presses closer, glad for the warmth and the closeness.

​

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& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

@CLAYFUR

 

[CLAYFUR]

If one were to ask what Clay had been up to before Clearsight stepped into the warriors’ den, his response would be vague. Perhaps avoidant, even. Because if word got out that Clayfur has been subtly rearranging his own nest to better fit both himself and another warrior—well, he’s sure he’d never hear the end of it. And, like, that’s not a bad thing! He isn’t hiding his affection or anything, but he also isn’t sure whether he and Clearsight are to the point of openly sharing a nest yet. If only he could gather the courage to ask…

He’s dragged from thoughts of how asking such a question would go—ranging from a swift rejection to a dramatic love confession in return—by the appearance of the man himself. The object of Clay’s daydreams and also his night-dreams and also just every thought he ever has these days. That blue-swirled pelt is pressed against his own in moments, and his warm smile turns just a bit dopey.

Something stirs in his chest at the soft words—honey included, as though he’s something precious to Clearsight. Hope blooms in his heart, fluttering against the inside of his ribs. He tries to tamp that feeling down, push it aside to make room for other things. Such as the warmth that follows that fluttery thing his heart is doing. He accepts the touch of Clearsight’s nose eagerly, tilting his cheek into the contact.

"Good morning," he echoes to the warrior, voice still rough with the edge of sleep. "I’m doing okay. Better now that you’re here." It’s the truth, too. His days are always better when Clearsight is within reach. Hazel eyes practically sparkle as his gaze settles upon the face of his guy. Like, yeah, they’re not mates or anything, but Clear’s his number one guy! And he brought Clay breakfast, and Clay’s pretty sure someone will have to call Beesong soon because his heart has just about melted completely.

He shifts to pull the fish into his paws, pressing his shoulder closer to the other tabby. "Thank you for the food. Did you eat yet?"
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[CLEARSIGHT]

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➵ Stars, those hazel eyes.

Clearsight sighs as he settles, gratefully accepting the shoulder press... leaning in closer. He shuts his eyes for a moment, just... breathing in Clay's scent. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"Better now that you're here" has his own heart fluttering, and he finds himself wondering how he got so lucky.

"Ah... not yet," he admits, because he can't really lie. Not to Clayfur. "I was thinking we could share. I know it isn't much, there just—isn't much."

He knows Clay knows that. They all do; it hangs heavy over every hunting patrol and every meal.

"I'm not that hungry anyways..." This is still not a lie, not wholly. He isn't hungry enough he'll pass out. He isn't hungry enough he needs to eat. He isn't that hungry.

Golden eyes meet hazel. He feels like a kit, breathless at the beauty there.

"Mm, maybe we could go hunting later. Just the two of us," he suggests. He wants a proper date, but they likely don't have the time or energy to waste. With Smokethroat in the medicine den, Willowroot about to pop, hungry new joiners among their ranks... if spare paws aren't catching prey, RiverClan won't make it through the winter.

"After Gillpaw's afternoon training. What do you think? A few hours after sunhigh?"

(Ans stars, that feels so good to say. Training Gillpaw again, spending time with his love—being able to just talk like this.

He is never getting a concussion again.)
​

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& we've all got battle scars ✗
​

 

[CLAYFUR]

Ah... not yet. Not yet. Clay's smile—because, yeah, he's always got a smile on his face when Clearsight is around—falls a bit once the answer registers. He's already gone hunting, done his duty, and wants to share prey that he's rightfully earned? And with Clayfur, no less. The brown tabby wouldn't call himself a worrier, but he's frowning lightly when the other says he isn't that hungry. Like, yeah, sure. Clay doesn't believe that for a second, but maybe it's something he shouldn't poke at just yet. He's filled with admiration for the warrior; he takes such good care of everyone, and asks for nothing in return. He's only just recently recovered from his injuries, and he's right back to how he'd been before.

Please don't spread yourself too thin. Because with both Smokethroat and Willowroot out of commission, and multiple injured or sick clanmates, and refugees from ShadowClan and WindClan, the cold months are already so difficult. And Clay is scared, just a bit. Because they, the healthy warriors, have to pick up the slack in terms of patrols and prey distribution and positivity. Because Clearsight is so good, and Clayfur can't imagine losing him. They just have to make it through the winter.

"I know it's hard, but I'm glad we're sharing," he begins, shifting slowly to press his muzzle into blue fur. He rubs his nose against the soft fur of Clearsight's neck, then says, slightly muffled, "I care about you. Do you want the head or the tail?" He doesn't raise his head, embarrassment warming his face. Isn't this too close to a confession? Isn't this how he's always said his "I love you"s?

He just doesn't want to add another thing to the stormy blue tom's plate. But the suggestion of a hunting patrol, just the two of them, is too good to pass up. You're my favorite person, he wants to say, but the words are unwelcome in his mouth. "I'd love that. I like doing anything with you." He rights himself, turning to look into familiar sunrise eyes. Of course, they'll have to go after Clearsight finishes up with Gillpaw's training for the afternoon. He really loves that kid, and it's obvious even in how seriously he takes his duty as a mentor. And it's heartwarming, watching him interact with his apprentice. "You know, you're an amazing mentor," he comments, tipping his chin down. It's said almost involuntarily, an observation that doesn't necessarily need to be spoken. But it's important that he hears it.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[CLEARSIGHT]

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➵ Clearsight relaxes into the firm strokes of Clayfur's tongue, lets out a breathy laugh at the fond neck-nuzzle. It has been a long day. It has been a long season, and they're not even half in.

But he has this. This is what matters.

"Mm, the head," he murmurs in reply, shifting his position to give his mate easier access, and then nuzzling in closer to the soft earthen flank to groom Clay in return — quick licks across brown tabby stripes.

I like doing anything with you.

"Yeah?" he says, a little amused — ever charmed. His Clayfur. Sweeter than anyone Clearsight's ever met, lovely and loving and fun. A joy to talk to, always. "Well, right back at you."

The compliment that follows leaves warmth prickling beneath his blue tabby coat. Clayfur's kindness can feel unwarranted, sometimes. But he certainly tries, and he hopes that he does right by Gillpaw. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "You know — that reminds me. I've been wondering. You're a good warrior and — don't look at me like that, love, you know you are. You're loyal and strong, at least as good as any RiverClanner. Better than any WindClanner," he adds wryly. He gentles, lowers his voice a bit. "I know that Cicadastar would be glad to entrust you with an apprentice of your own. Have you ever thought about it?"
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& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[CLAYFUR]

The gentle rasp of his tongue over brilliant blue fur—and the proximity they share now—draws a purr from his chest. Clay doesn’t think to be embarrassed by it; he’s never been one to withhold affection even from mere acquaintances. A run of the head here, a brush of the tail there, a bump of the nose… it’s all normal. So why is he feeling so impossibly happy right now? Like, yeah, Clayfur knows why he’s so ecstatic to cuddle up to Clearsight, to be brought breakfast in the den, to be called love and honey like it’s nothing—but this is surely just a friends thing!

He doesn’t have the focus to keep thinking about that, though, because his friend licks at his coat in return and claims the head of the fish for himself. "Yesss," he cheers under his breath, all smiley and gleeful; that means the tail is all his, and he’s being so childish about it. He can’t resist being mesmerized by this beautiful, capable, patient man.

This isn’t even the first time they’ve shared a meal, but he’s feeling warm all over, all jittery and kind of nervous. Clearsight likes spending time with him, too! How could he not be excited?

Clearsight shifts the conversation to Clay’s own apprentice—or rather, his lack of an apprentice—and his gaze drops bashfully to his paws at the returned compliment. It doesn’t take much to be better than a WindClan warrior, but it takes a lot even to be a good RiverClanner. "A couple times," he says, a shrug following his admission. "I think it would be nice to have one. It would feel more like I’m helping the same as everybody else, you know? I don’t know if I’m cut out for it… I trust Cicadastar’s judgment, though. Like, I’m sure he’ll assign me one eventually." He says it with nonchalance, as though it doesn’t bother him.

It is disappointing, though, watching other warriors taking their apprentices to train outside of camp, seeing the growing bond between mentor and apprentice. But Clay can at least have peace in his lack of further responsibility. The way he sees it, an apprentice could take his often-elusive focus away from other important facets of his life—his clan, his family, Clearsight.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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