I watched Ice Age today and got over-sitimulated.

Either that, or I just really wanted to write slash. This pairing really jumped out at me.

I don't own the quotes in italics, the characters, or the universe. This story and all its components other than the aforementioned are mine.

'That's what you do in a herd, you look out for one another.'

They were a herd. They were not necessarily the best herd in the world, or the most effective hunters, or the best team players, or the kindest, or the wealthiest, or the best fed, but they were a herd. And all things considered, they were a fairly good herd.

Diego had done a pack before, the most effective hunting pack. He had gotten really beat up, and left…still breathing. That was a lot more than anyone else had ever accomplished.

The mammoth lumbered slowly, sedately to his left, eyes fixed on the horizon, not speaking. The sloth to his right sort of hop-skipped, muttering to himself and occasionally shutting his trap before asking a pointless question or stating the obvious. Relaxing, Diego walked with a careful roll in him shoulders, enjoying the feeling of his bones smoothly gliding underneath his skin.

A herd was like a commune. Packs were messy, unorganized, cutthroat and without any sense of companionship. They had to be a herd. They worked too well together not to be a herd.

'You're an embarrassment to Nature. Ya know that?'

Sid, the embarrassment that he was, was still their embarrassment. He hadn't any actual survival skills. However, what he lacked in deftness he made up for in…okay, Diego wasn't sure what he made up in. He was just a really great person to toy with.

'Hey, "über"-tracker. Up front where I can see you.'

Diego had never doubted his role in the pack. He was the master of negotiation, the marksman, the hunter, and the tracker. Occasionally the wise guy, always competitive. So it was in the herd, but where he had been ignored for his abilities, here they were put to semi-good use.

As he started to fit in with the rest of his herd, he began noticing things. Like the way Sid would make faces and Manny would always turn away when Diego made a kill. Ever since then, he had made sure to make his kills away from the others, and the discomfort slowly but surely eroded away.

'Let's get something straight, ok? There's no "we". There never was a "we". In fact, without "me", it wouldn't even be a "you".'

Manny was the muscle. The brawn. Also usually the brain. He was –debatably- the herd leader.

Diego turned his attention to his larger companion on his left. His green eyes scanned the mammoth carefully, noticing the little knot of too-tense muscle at the edge of Manny's front right leg that foreshadowed a slight stumble when they settled down for the night. Diego would make a point not to notice it when it happened. It seemed to embarrass the mammoth.

The tusks. Diego always had a healthy admiration for Manny's tusks. They were large, pointed, and powerful. They seemed to call about for blood, as if they needed to be splattered with red to look fitting. In their ivory, pure-as-snow white state, they seemed out of place on someone usually so quiet. Diego liked Manny's tusks. They were incongruent, just like Manny, though perhaps it was fitting for someone so cold to have such a big heart.

The trunk. Occasionally used to bop Sid over the head, sometimes used to illustrate a point, often used to play a mean jazz trumpet, Diego appreciated the trunk when it can in handy.

In fact, Diego appreciated a lot of things about Manny…from the biting sarcasm to the sporadic philosophy spouting to the few moments of comradeship the two occasionally experienced whenever they poked fun at Sid or competed for speed or quick-thinking.

'If you find a mate in life, you should be loyal.'

Diego growled softly. This was the one resounding phrase he had ever heard Manny utter.

Watching Sid go off a-courting, Manny had shook his head and grumbled, "The blockhead doesn't listen to anything. I told him, 'If you find a mate in life, you should be loyal.' Does he listen? Of course not. He's Sid."

Gender hadn't ever really affected Diego. He knew he was male. That was about the size of it. He figured that if he ever found a female, great; he enjoyed solitude anyway. No fur off his nose. Whatever mate he found, he would keep.

And now, again, gender hadn't affected him. He could not mate with the one he had chosen, could not mark them or even speak of the hunt. He could scarcely be near them without risking being crushed.

That didn't seem to matter. The important thing was that he knew that he had chosen, and one day, probably not for many years, they would know that he had chosen. He could wait. Diego was patient when he wanted to be.

"Hey, claw-boy," Manny called from far ahead, causing Diego to notice that he had lagged behind, "step it up. While we're young."

Diego smirked. He had a mate of his heart. He had a herd. A –dare he think it?- family.

What need for a pack?

Okay, I think it's cute.

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