There's a thump and a bang and suddenly the coloured ones are falling in a heap by Mogar's sleeping furs.
"What do you want?" He growls, reaching out for his new glasses.
"Mornin' Mogar!"
"We couldn't help but notice just how well things with you and Hilda went last night." Ray waggles his eyebrows at him from under Gavin.
He can't help smiling at the memory. "Yes, the plan you all helped Mogar make worked very well. Mogar is grateful."
"Yeah I know, we're awesome. But now it's the hard part buddy."
Gavin had scrambled off of Ray and now struck a 'heroic' pose. "Now we integrate your bearman courtship rituals with some good old-fashioned dating basics for the ultimate wooing experience!" Mogar just blinked owlishly.
"Mogar is not sure that the coloured ones are the best ones to be helping him…"
"Wha- but we're Hilda's pack, mate, who knows her better than pack?" Mogar just shook his head at them as he rose from the mass of furs and blankets he had been using as a bed.
"Just because you are pack does not mean you are the best option. Mogar will go to Ash. She will be the best option."
"Pfft, whatever." Ray rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that, dude."
They all froze at a hollow clanging sound from upstairs. "Why is there no fucking coffee?"
"And that's our cue to go, good luck bro, you know, wooing and all."
"Later mate, remember, we're always here to advise ya."
"Mogar will join you all for breakfast shortly."
Christmas came and went. Mogar sat through the pack's different traditions and smiled at the making of new ones. It was right after Hilda introduced him to mistletoe with a kiss on the cheek that he pulled her aside for her gift.
"But you already gave me something." Her fingers ghosted over the woven necklace she wore.
He nodded and reached behind his back. "That is for Ponytail Lady. This, this is for Metal Woman." He held out what seemed to be a slightly curved dagger in a simple leather sheath. She stared at it. "Mog- I care for you. And wish to protect you." He looked up at her and smirked, "But we both know that you do not need it."
"Mogar-"
"You are strong and brave and lead this pack like a true alpha. They follow not out of fear, but respect and love." Her hand rested on the hilt of the blade. "Mogar sees the woman and the warrior," She drew the dagger out of the sheath and marveled for a moment at the bone blade. "And he cares for both… he wants both."
"I-I don't- That is- Oh good lord…" He chuckled at her fumbling words and flushed cheeks.
"Mogar understands, he will wait." She looked nervously up at him over the top of her glasses. "Mogar will wait until his sword is too heavy to lift and the sun falls from the sky. I will stay by your side until the long night calls me and even then I will fight to stay with you. I promise." Then she makes a strange sound and he has his arms full of clingy scientist jumping up to wrap her own about him and rambling on about perfectly cheesy bearmen and feels and primeval romance honor bullcrap.
The metallic tang of something almost sickeningly sweet nearly overwhelms him with her hair tickling his cheek and nose nuzzling his neck. He's barely making any sense of it all when the rambling stops and there's soft palms on either side of his face. The pads of her fingers are calloused and there's even some marks on her palms where they rest on his skin. Her breath is hot and smells of sugar and bitter drink as she leans in close.
"C-can I?" She's trembling in his arms and he barely registers the fact that the dagger, that she is still clutching tightly, is dangerously close to his face. His stomach coils sharply and he finds he can't look away from her blown pupils, her scent has taken on a new texture and is making him dizzy. He nods. And her lips are on his in a searing kiss. This isn't like the light caress of lips they had shared a few times before, and it's nothing like the wet, sloppy spectacles he had seen mates sharing about the city. This is soft and achingly sweet and a little awkward from the sense of urgency in the way she cradles his cheeks in her hands despite the knife and the fact she's leaning down to kiss him. He briefly wonders if he should have put her down between the tackle hug and the kissing question.
C-click!
They pull apart, panting and flushed and he's looking at her with wide eyes and puffy lips.
"This is definitely going in the scrapbook." Ash smirks with a wink and walks out with a confident away in her hips, Polaroid waving in her hand.
"Does-" He clears his throat, she's still in his arms, though now he has a more comfortable grip on her that has her flush against him. "Does this mean you accept Mogar's gift?" She laughs and kisses him again, slow and light and sweet, before prying herself out of his arms and picking up the discarded sheath.
"You might need to teach me how to use this." She chuckles. "Cause I have no fucking clue what happens past slashy stabby."