hazardous (p)

[Martenpaw]

Martenpaw, head still swimming and disoriented, still chasing away the remnants of last night’s bout of nightmares, sulked in his nest. He groaned and curled in on himself. Just let me die now. I don’t even care if it’s considered rude to leave my corpse lying around in shared sleeping spaces. Darkness take me now, he internally agonised.

After a while of moping around, the ginger tom’s guilt about not getting anything productive done dragged him out of bed. It was done with a lot of grumbling and stuttered swearing, but Martenpaw convinced himself that the only thing that mattered was that he actually got up. Maybe today wouldn’t turn out so ba—

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. It’s him. Wait, no! Don’t think about it. You talked to him, like, once. One time. Nope, nope, nope. Occupied with his internal monologue and unintentional totally intentional ogling at an individual he had only ever met once, Martenpaw didn’t look where he was stepping until.. “Ouch!” Yep. Thorn in his paw. Smooth.

(Otterpaw)

[Otterpaw]

Otterpaw had finally gotten himself out of his nest and onto his feet. Obviously, his first stop was the fresh-kill pile to put off his almost never-ending hunger. He hoped being hungry all the time was just the side effect of being an apprentice, but he'd been told quite a few times that he ate way too much. Whatever. It's not like the rest of the Clan is starving, right? Though, the pickings were slim—literally. Every piece of prey was scrawny and he could see their tiny, fragile bones peeking out from underneath fur. He sighed, grabbing a small vole.

The gray and white tom turned away, hazel eyes locking onto a familiar ginger pelt. He froze, his mind going completely blank. CloudClan, Otterpaw, you don't even know the guy! Still, it was hard to counter his undeniable attraction to Martenpaw. The only problem was that both of them seemed painfully shy, and it was hard to even have a conversation. Especially when Otter reacted like this, almost like his mind had been emptied of all its contents.

Ouch! Otterpaw frowned, willing himself to say something. Ask if he's okay. Say hi. Don't just stand there gaping like a complete idiot! "U-um..." He began to panic, wondering if maybe he could just sink into a hole and disappear. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to start a conversation when he couldn't even hold one? What was he even supposed to say? The apprentice's mind reeled. Come on, come on, come on. "A-are you, uh, okay?"

[Martenpaw]

Martenpaw really hoped he hadn’t been heard or seen by the brown-furred tom. It would’ve been so much easier to slink away, get the darned thorn lodged in his pawpad out—and, you know, maybe try and again and actually look like you're trying to look more suave than you are, his mind sing-songed. Martenpaw could almost hear his own conscience rolling its invisible eyes at him.

But one look, those wide eyes catching sight of him, Marten couldn’t so much as even twitch a whisker. It was as if some magnetic force grounded his paws to where they were. The pain in his paw was incessant and throbbing and it hurt; Martenpaw could only stand there, paw in the air in mid-wave in an effort to lessen some of the ache. CloudClan, what am I? A mouse being hunted? He looks like he's gonna either bolt away or try and help or fall over! How is that so freaking cute?! Okay, nope. Backtrack, gotta take that back. Never happened, nope, nope. Martenpaw wanted to stab a milliom thorns in his pelt right now.

Those huge doe eyes were bad enough. Martenpaw’s knees would have probably given out from under him if it weren’t for his desperation to cling on to the shredded remnants of his manliness and dignity. “E-er.. um.. thorn in—um, paw i-in my thor—f-foxdung,” he stammered, “I-I meant.. thorn in..” He gave up and wiggled his limp paw, still uplifted.

[Otterpaw]

Otterpaw watched helplessly, victim of his mind. His stupid, stupid mind that could do nothing but stare. If he ran, he'd ruin any chances of getting to know the tom. But did he really want to try? He'd mess it up somehow. But still, what if he had a chance? No, no. He probably has a ton of cats on his tail with looks like that. And I don't have a chance, he thought, desperately trying to make himself lose any interest he had in this apprentice. Would it really be that bad if I just went and... helped him? One could daydream. He imagined himself walking over and pulling out the thorn from Martenpaw's paw, then making some comment that would make him swoon. Yeah right. You could never—

Oh no, nonono. The striped apprentice turned, and Otter was locked in his gaze. He had such interesting, amazing eyes and he felt as if he could just stay like that forever, if it weren't so awkward. But he couldn't break the connection, and he felt that if he didn't soon Marten would know exactly what his opinions were. The patched tom had never been great at hiding his emotions, and that would have certainly come in handy then. 

Otterpaw felt that that his best option right then was to fall over dead. No more awkwardness, no more fawning over this tom he could never have— Martenpaw's voice interrupted his thoughts and he pricked his ears to listen to whatever he had to say. CloudClan, he's so cute and stutter-y. Why can't I look that cute when I stutter? He nodded helplessly to show he understood, not daring to move. "Do you—.. You n-need, uh," he gulped, trying his best to set his thoughts straight. "Medici—er, den..?" His words were all over the place and he could barely understand what he was trying to say.

[Martenpaw]

Honestly, if Martenpaw wasn't a) completely and totally socially inept, b) did not at all have a stuttering problem, c) wasn’t in denial of his very obvious attraction to this big-eyed, bicolored apprentice who’s mouth was slightly agape and in danger of getting invaded by various bugs, and d) didn’t have the sharp end of a stem stuck to his paw, which, for the record, was now sticky with blood and has graduated from throbbing pain to it’s-still-there-but-I’m-not-secure-with-my-masculinity-so-we’re-pretending-it’s-not-there kind of pain... well, perhaps his second meeting with Otterpaw could have gone more successfully, and he could actually make this guy fall for him and his devilishly handsome looks and killer humour.

Unfortunately, Martenpaw could barely even hold on to the latter. Wonderful.

It took an eon before the tabby could make some part of his brain function again, but when it did happen, well, it wasn’t much use unless one could consider being mesmerised by another individual and ingraining their image into one’s head useful. Martenpaw highly doubted that his legs feeling like a puddle of mud wasn’t just an effect of his injury. The good news was he managed to catch what Otterpaw was saying or was trying to say. The frustration of wanting to translate what the other was saying, to know him so well that he’d never have to speak again because Marten would do it threw him off entirely.

“No! No, uh, j-just take it–take it o-out m’self.” Martenpaw’s speech was mumbled because his teeth was already pulling out the thorn. He jerked his head back and a string of curses flew out right after the thorn left his paw.

[Otterpaw]

Somwhere along the line, Otterpaw's vole had fallen out of his mouth. He didn't notice for a while, actually, until he finally looked away long enough to catch sight of it. Embarrassment flooded his body, making his cheeks and ear tips hot. How could that have happened? He must think even more lowly of me now. The tom did his best to move the vole out of sight—somewhere he could find it later—without the tabby apprentice noticing. There was a very small chance that Martenpaw hadn't seen it, and Otter clung hopefully onto that. After all, they had been staring into each other's eyes for what seemed like years. In all honesty, Otter was a bit upset that the connection had been broken, despite the awkwardness.

The patched tom was 99% sure that Marten's image was burnt into his mind forever, and he wouldn't complain one bit. Now he could daydream about him in vivid detail, and it would make it seem all that more real. If only it was, but Marten was 'the one that got away'. Well ,maybe more of the 'one I never had a chance with in the first place'.

At first, Otter misheard the tom's words and missed the 'myself' part of his sentence. Panicked, he, thinking Marten was asking him to take it out for him, forced himself to take a few steps forward. Maybe if he's telling me too, it wouldn't be so weird. Even though I'd be putting my mouth all over his— The thorn was out, and Otter finally understood what he'd been trying to say. And now he looked even more like an idiot as he desperately looked for a cover. Instead, his eyes traveled to Marten's paw. "Y-you're bleed—bleeding!" He said, concern washing over his features. 

[Martenpaw]

Stuck in his current situation, thorn in paw and internal organs turned to mush, Martenpaw failed to grasp enough energy to find amusement in Otterpaw's facial expression. Of course, he knew not to verbalize his thoughts (if that were even possible in the first place) because he didn't want to be rude. Pessimistic, sarcastic, sure, but he wasn't going to go so far as to be insensitive. He didn't have the right to be with his own bumbling steps and broken words.

His flame-colored eyes caught movement from the bicolored apprentice, saw him edging forward like he was planning to assist him. Apparently his exclamation jolted him to a hesitant stop. Ow, ow, ow, that huuurts. Foxdung, I'm regretting that so bad right now. He hissed at the pulsing pain on his pad. "Y-You're bleed—bleeding!" Martenpaw bit his tongue to keep from making a potentially scathing retort. He didn't need to give Otterpaw any other reasons to turn his pretty tail and leave.

"Agh," he muttered, amber gaze flickering between his injury to Otterpaw and back again, "I'll.. I'll be fine." Martenpaw, trying to be as manly as ever (and failing miserably), licked at the blood and resisting the urge to gag at the taste, offered a weak reassuring half-smile.

[Otterpaw]

Otterpaw studied the injury, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He remained silent, afraid if he opened his mouth he'd make a fool of himself. He wondered briefly if Martenpaw was as nervous as Otter was. He seemed to be, at least, when they'd first run into each other. That was, until Martenpaw had stepped on the thorn. The gray and white patched tom winced at the thought of having something so big buried in his paw—it had happened once before, when he was a kitten. He'd gone wailing to the medicine cats den. But, then again, he had only been a kitten and much more sensitive.

"A-are you sure...?" He asked finally, stepping back a little as he realized being so close to the other tom was probably only making the situation worse. He had been over his initial embarrassment of mishearing the flame-colored tom, but almost instantly he'd found something else to be embarrassed about. "Do you need… um, help?" 

[Martenpaw]

Martenpaw thought it wasn't even possible for his heart to race faster, but he felt it thump near painfully against his chest. The ginger tom heard his blood rushing in his ears, and he was so focused on stopping the flow of blood in his paw that when he looked up, he was staring straight into Otterpaw's wide eyes.

He nearly lurched back in fright and the worry that he would accidentally smash his face against Otterpaw's. His cheeks flamed. "U-um.. oh I-I don't—don't.. think so?" Martenpaw glanced at his pad, and he nodded an affirmation. Now, it was back to uneasy silence. God, why was this so hard to do? What was he supposed to do? Tell him your name, dummy.

"Er. I'm—I'm Martenpaw."

[Otterpaw]

The blood seemed to thin out as Martenpaw messed with the wound, and it seemed that Otterpaw wasn't exactly needed anymore. He was about to back away, when the ginger tom looked up, their faces almost touching. His eyes lingered there for a moment before he looked quickly away, staggering back a few steps. Oh CloudClan. What an idiot. He silently cursed himself, his entire pelt hot. He flattened his ears against his head in embarrassment, biting his lip. I'm so stupid. He probably thinks I'm a creep now.

He almost forgot to reply through his awkwardness, but he nodded jerkily, his tail flicking anxiously behind him. "I— o-o-okay," he stammered, his heart flailing itself against his ribcage. After a few minutes it began to calm down and the fire reduced to a small flame in his cheeks, though, thankfully, invisible underneath his pelt. Martenpaw. He liked the name. It was simple but it had a certain ring to it. He smiled ever so slightly, slowly lifting his ears from his skull. "Th-th-that's a… uh, um, nice name," he told the other tom, internally wincing. "O-oh! My name is… um…" he blinked, blanking. "Er...O-Otterpaw!" He said, slightly triumphant, though it died down to embarrassment once again. Like usual. How does someone forget their own name?