#frepper

tiny paws grip at him, fisting into cloth and spiked fur alike to tug him endlessly forward -- and freckle wonders if she notices that he trips over his own paws to try and match her pace. listens to the hightail click-clack of heels ground into stone and polished wood, sees a sliver of assured smile carving it’s way into one tender cheek. there’s a patience and impatience about his accidentally acquired girlfriend that he isn’t sure what to do with, besides his usual awkward staring ; as if behind the veil of choppy, self-made bangs would give him something more than mindless direction or giggles. and something is building in his stomach and his chest all the same, some sort of blockage he can’t dwindle. he, impossibly, nervously, seriously wants to be good for her -- to her! watches how dark fur simmers into something softer and light when they huddle in the backseat of a car, how rays of sunshine catch on the tips of perked ears, reflecting off the pearl white of whiskers, and freckle thinks pretty, with enough of an admiring lull that he sizzles through orange fur straight down to his singular freckle. he wonders if ivy would like it. if there’s things she enjoys about him at all, or if she’s just having her fun. her paw touches his arm, tiny claws rested right below shoulder, so he does what’s expected and follows : leaning where she puts some weight, following her muffled excitement of a command, until lips grace his own, trailing across fuzzy muzzle and onto equally fuzzy cheek. he still … squirms, flinches, squeezes wide eyes shut and feels fear lance through him, always imagining brimstone close by. but he’s getting better at it, this, well, boyfriend thing -- and ivy is nothing but undeterred in a way most people wouldn’t be. so he thinks about it, about growing into this, finding a home within it, somewhere, and moves his head just slightly, a nudging thing, and for the first time places an answering kiss on her neck.