2019 YUCK. as you can probably tell, I've been writing in this lower case "style" for literal Years. it was worse when I was younger because literally Everything - names, places, and the I's - weren't capitalized. y'all can blame the book Of Mice and Men for this. I saw that that book wasn't written in caps either, and I realised, oh shit, you can write like that? believe me, I may be stupid, but I'm not that dumb 😌🙏 as per usual, these have been edited
16/12/2019: it's safe now
he flops onto the fur roll with a gigantic sigh, looking like he's about to make a snow angel. it's only when Woodie sits next to him and pats his shoulder that he gathers the last of his strength to roll on to his side, giving Woodie enough room to slump down behind him. he feels an arm snake under his elbow and around to his front, Woodie's hand bundling the front of his vest, Woodie's body pressing close to his back, a comfortable warmth flooding into his bones. a nose nuzzles itself into the back of his neck, their legs loosely tangling together, and he exhales another content sigh with an exhausted smile.
the warmth, the comfort, the love; it's enough to make Wilson fall into a slumber right then and there. he paws at another fur roll dumped at their feet with a great amount of effort, and with Woodie's half hearted help, they pull the make-shift cover over themselves, settling in for the night.
19/12/2019: back scratch
it was very easy to get Wilson flustered. a pat on the shoulder here, the squeeze of a bicep there, a hand lingering on his back for a touch too long - even looking into his eye was enough to flush his face bright red. Woodie would say it was cute - endearing, even - to see his pale features lighten up with such little things.
then again, his emotions weren't so set in stone either. sometimes, after a Deerclops chase or a hound raid, Wilson would look at him, really look at him. he would have such concern and worry etched into his expression. he'd look at Woodie like he were his everything, his entire world and more, bearing his heart on his sleeve without shame. Woodie would find it too much to handle, not used to such strong emotions aimed at him. it was strange, but definitely appreciated. in all honesty, he'd missed those kinds of looks.
he hadn't felt so loved in a long time.
19/12/2019: teachings in the woods
'geez Wil, yer've got two left feet eh!'
'I know how to dance perfectly fine thank you-'
'OW!'
'ah shit, sorry-'
'"knows how to dance" he says-'
'I do-!'
'yeah, hmm mmm, yer know how to dance alright eh, steppin' on my shoes!'
'I admit its been a while since I last did this!'
'then put yer pride away and let me reteach you, dummy!' Wilson couldn't stop his bubbly laughter, tears of mirth dotting his eye. 'and stop laughin'!'
'I-I can't help it! it's too funny!'
they swayed and side stepped in slow rhythms and even slower circles, their hands entwined together at their sides. Woodie gazed at Wilson with unabashed adoration, while Wilson kept his pinched stare focused on the floor, trying very hard to avoid stepping on Woodie's boots.
it was nice.
27/12/2019: moonshine
he awoke, suddenly, to a moose's gigantic head, inside his tent, staring dead at him. three things happened simultaneously within the span of 10 seconds:
1. Wilson swore a colourful chorus and felt something in his face pop,
2. he scrambled on to his butt and backed up until he was pressed flat against the tents wall, making it tilt backwards,
and 3. that action made the moose snort, and slam a hoof into the floor so the tent didn't tip over, which, in turn, almost made Wilson actually shit himself from pure fear.
'oh what the fuck are you now' Wilson blurted to the moose, who tilted its head in a comical fashion, its wide white eyes never breaking from his. and then, to make matters worse, the moose decided that it wanted to be inside the tent, and with as much grace as a giant beast could possess, it bustled its way in. it had to hunch over, tilting its head at a steep angle so its antlers didn't get stuck on the sides. when it was fully inside the tent, it sat down, mimicking a dog, its antlers forcing the roof higher up to the point of almost tearing the material. 'what the fuck.' was all Wilson could say to the situation.
the moose stayed there, staring. it occasionally flicked an ear. it cast a dark shadow over Wilson, blocking his only exit, yet it looked at him with such curiosity, such interest, that Wilson didn't feel scared anymore. the more he looked at the beast, the more oddities he spotted - a torn, striped vest being the most striking. he wondered if this was another of Her creations, or something more.
'so you're, ah. you're not going to hurt me?' Wilson asked after a minute of peace passed. its ears twitched, and it shook its head. 'oh. great. you can understand me, apparently. … well, are you uh. are you cold?' it nodded, looking both fascinated and excited in one go. 'I, ah. I guess that makes sense. you're not a monster created by Her, are you?' another shake, this time more defiant. 'okay. … alright. that's. that's great, actually, that's really good, that you're, not one of Hers.' it's so awkward, beausue he's talking to an animal that can understand him. he supposes he should be used to such strange things by now, but he can't help but be shocked by it every time. '… well. thanks for uh. for not killing me. that's. very nice of you.'
they stayed like that for a while, Wilson getting more and more courage to ask it simple questions, and the moose responding with shakes and nods, until the moose groaned, and suddenly shrunk into a passed out man that ended any and all conversation.
28/12/2019: we're alright (mentions of blood!)
'ah, buddy, your eye.'
'what about it?'
'it's bleedin'.'
'… oh.'
'you seriously didn't notice?'
'not really. not until you. said.'
'geez darlin', c'mere so I can get a look, eh.'
'it's not that bad, I mean I can barely feel it-'
'Wilson, it looks like a dam exploded under that patch.' Wilson rose a claw to his face, dabbed at his cheek with the tip of his claws, pulled them back to look, and indeed saw red staining the black curves. he made a disgruntled face, like it was a mere disturbance of time instead of an injury. still, he allowed Woodie to get close, and carefully, Woodie peeled the darkened patch off his face, exposing his eyeless, running socket. instead of pulling a sneer or making a comment on how disgusting the sight was, he gently wiped under his bag-filled void with a makeshift cloth.
'you gotta take better care of yourself, Wil.'
'I've made it this long haven't I?' he sounded tired. like he'd given up. 'isn't that enough?'
'of yourself.'
'I'm doing fine.'
'… yeah, I know.' Woodie nodded, a soft smile on his face. 'you're brave, Wilson. I don't doubt you for a second, I jus' hate seeing you hurt, eh.'
his patch was replaced for a new one. his eye had stopped bleeding, the wound cleaned to the best of Woodie's ability, and they went on with their day like nothing had happened.
28/12/2019: the rain helps
Wilson sat behind Woodie, his legs on either side of Woodie's thighs, arms looped around Woodie's middle, claws laced together and resting against Woodie's belly. he lightly snoozed, his face smushed between the left side of Woodie's neck and shoulder. an umbrella was held under Woodie's right arm, and it protected them from the rains lethal barrage. the heavy patters seemed to lull Wilson into a deeper snooze.
they were content and happy, emotions that were rare to hold and maintain in their new life. there was no looming threat nor any kind of danger; it was just them and nature, alone to their own devices. allowed to rest and have some sense of peace. not even the waterfall of rain could dampen their moods - not with Wilson's soft snores and Woodie's wide smile. sometimes, Wilson would subconsciously squeeze around Woodie's middle, and Woodie would sink further into Wilson's front, gloved white resting over inky black.
Woodie never wanted the moment to end.
30/12/2019: a gruff kind of softness
Woodie did these things, sometimes. these little moments that would grind Wilson's brain into a fine mush and render him weak in the knees.
he'd hold his claw without any prompts, and it was a 50 50 on if he would lace their fingers together or rub his thumb over Wilson's knuckles. Woodie always made sure to hold Wilson's claws at least once every single day. it was a nervous habit, Wilson guessed; something he did to calm himself down if things were getting too hectic to keep up with. but that didn't make sense, because even if there was no danger, Woodie would still hold his claw anyway. maybe it was more of a comfort thing? Wilson wasn't sure. but he did find that he really liked holding Woodie's hand back. it helped ground him in the same way conducting science did, and the simple act of a thumb rubbing over his knuckles soothed his nerves a lot more than he liked to admit.
another thing was the hugging. Wilson had never received many hugs in his life time, and what ones he did get were awkward, or harsh, or far too tight to the point of choking. but Woodie? all of them were warm, comfortable, snug, welcoming; it was a hold he never wanted to break from. sometimes Woodie would nuzzle his nose into Wilson's neck, or rub his hands in circles at the small of Wilson's back, and it would destroy his thinking capacity every single time. he'd never get used to it, no matter how often Woodie supplied them.
the chaste, soft kisses to his cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose; soft pecks at the corners of his mouth or just below his ears. pet names that weren't demeaning or mean spirited. how Woodie would cup his face after a lash of frog rain to look him over for any injuries. the glances of affection he'd spot from the corner of his eye. Woodie allowing Wilson's head to rest in his lap, running his gloved fingers through Wilson's tarnished hair. how Woodie seemed to genuinely care about him, always putting Wilson before himself in anything and everything.
it messed Wilson up. never before had he been someone's acquaintance in such a way. a friend? a best friend? this is what friends did, right? hold hands and give kisses and have pet names?
his head would hurt if he tried to think about it for too long. it was all. very hard to explain, the thing that they had. he didn't understand it himself, but. he really liked it.