Stone Circle You're my favorite book

@Figment had done so much. He’d been a constant. She’d never had anyone anticipate her needs before. She’d go to open her mouth and there he’d appear in the threshold of the burrow, answering a question before she’d have the good sense to ask it. The cubs would scream and he’d be the first to attend them, even if he wasn’t properly awake himself.

There’d been vicious discomfort. She’d had to share more of herself than she’d ever wanted. She’d had to struggle with burns in her changing body, the dark lines under her eye that now marked her as a mother, the new swelling in her middle that may never again flatten. But there was an intimacy in all of this as she began to forget what was her own self and what was his.

He's her favorite stranger.

It’s night when the children are dozing, yet sleep won't find her because she’s thinking of him.

“Come here,” she murmurs into his ear and marshals on her elbows from the den, not daring to draw even a single breath until a few strides have elapsed and they’re well beyond the firing range of fussy infant.

Much like his children, Fig had been dozing when he felt the tickle of Tauris’s breath against his ear. He had been dancing at the edge of sleep, ever at the ready to jump into action if the need rose. And so he moved now, but not without some small alarm at the suddenness of her request.

He followed her out of the den with a backward glance at the sleeping pups, his thoughts immediately filled with concern for them. Would they be safe on their own? Would they be warm enough? He’d hear them if they called, right? With a hard swallow, he urged his worries to settle and turned back to search for Tauris in the moonlight.

”Everything alright?” he asked in a hushed tone as he settled beside her.

“I’m taking you on a date,” their first. Her tail sweeps up into broad, playful arcs.

There is not the same boundless energy in her leaps. Weariness tugs at her limbs as she leads them into the rick of trees and down to the edge of the river that is as quiet as one long exhale in the night. Away from the pups- but not far. She wants to tease that maybe they’d get lucky and something would gobble them up while they’re gone and they could get their old lives back, but the worry in his brow makes her swallow the words. She kisses him there instead.

She no longer feels the need to rise over and over with such fire. Motherhood gives her new eyes that are kinder, more patient. Through them she sees everything differently, revealing facets of life like flesh laid open to the bone; the trees, the lake, the pack, and Fig, especially.

In her there is still an imposing guilt, and she fears he’ll see it. She’s not well with the secrets her face tells.

“Figure we deserve one night off.” Are you happy here?

“Besides we haven’t had much time to just talk.” Do you want to leave?

“Sooo what’s your favorite color?” Is this enough?

In spite of his anxiety at leaving his children behind, Tauris's regard of him brought a comfortable smile to his lips. He leaned into her kiss and let it soothe his fears, at least as far as they were willing to be soothed. Worry seemed to be a constant friend in parenthood, though it spoke at different volumes.

"A date, huh?" Fig said, "I thought it was my job to take you on dates. I've been slacking badly, haven't I." The question was rhetorical, the guilt there even though his comment was meant to be lighthearted. He hadn't been a good ...whatever he was to her. Boyfriend? Mate? Not to his own standards, at least. But maybe he could make up for it tonight.

The words he'd almost said to her once lingered in his mind. Maybe tonight.

"Ahh... I once would've said blue, but lately I've been rather taken with brown and silver," Fig answered her, his smile flirtatious.

“Yes,” is her reply, though it is only to tease him. She had practically been in pursuit of him since their meeting and she wasn’t going to stop now. She didn’t have any preconceived ideas about gender or the roles traditionally paired with them- all she saw was a dedicated father who could use a break. And she wants him to herself for one night.

Though, it is an admittedly shabby date. She hadn’t had time to prepare anything, so it is just her, him, and the river. And honestly, she could think of little else she wants more. 

She stretches herself along the banks across from Figment, glowing in the blush of his words.

“Med school teach you to be so charming?” She questions with a raised brow and traces a paw into the ashen fur at his shoulder. She looks into his impossibly green eyes and is instantly set at ease, as always he has some way of taming her anxious thoughts.

“You know I kind of have a really big crush on you.”

Fig chuckled at her prompt response, reaching to nudge her teasingly with his nose. ”Maybe if your children weren’t so needy…” he jested. It certainly wasn’t surprising, but children did take up an awful lot of time and energy. It was nice to steal some now just the two of them.

”Just natural talent,” he answered with a shrug. Truth be told, he had no real frame of reference for romance. The wolf he considered his mother was sister to his father, and he hadn’t really witnessed much of their courtships with their various paramours. He was perhaps simply blessed with an understanding of others, the wants and desires of their hearts.

He’d never thought much about it, and he didn’t spend much time thinking on it now as her next words stole his attention and had him holding onto his breath.

Fig remembered the words he’d wanted to speak once, but hadn’t. They came into his mind so often, it wasn’t hard to recall them now. But he hesitated, nervous. Afraid. What if he scared her? What if she rejected him?

He still wanted her to know, didn’t he?

”That’s a relief,” Fig said, his hesitation evident, ”Considering I am… entirely, and irretrievably, in love with you.”

She wanted Fig. She’d always wanted him, and not just in the press of their bodies, or the children they shared, but for his mind, and his laugh, and for the ways he made hard things in her life seem simple.

She wanted love. All else failed to satiate. And if he’d never said it, she knew it would follow her as a shattered thing tormenting forever, and she would be sustained only by the longing of what she might have had with him-

With an unfurling breath, very gradually her nose presses to his and all she can do is laugh, because she will never have to wonder about that longing. They’re seeing it through to the end.

“You love me? I love you. But not just now, back then. In the woods, with the flowers, and the bunnies. Is that possible? Is it possible to just- know? Because I knew. Even then.”

At first, her laugh threw him. Was it laughable that he loved her? Was he that big of a fool? But then she spoke the most beautiful words and he melted into her touch, pulling her close even before she had stopped speaking.

"Sunflower..." he said softly into her ear as he buried his head against her neck. His heart had only ever been this full at the birth of their children, and as that memory slid into his head, it grew even fuller. "I think it's possible," he replied, still holding her, "After we met, I visited my family. I came back here after hoping to run into you again, though I've never admitted it to anyone until now."

He smiled softly and held her tighter, "And you found me."

They’d taken opposite roads that lead still back to each other. But they were not forged by fate- they each chose it.

Love before was not like this; it was not this.

And there was no going back for her, even in the risk of exposing oneself fully and asking for honesty. Her heart played its true part for him. In Fig’s clutch she writhes with overwhelming feeling, a low whine leaking from her muzzle and a wild tail that slaps about them both, lathering any part of him she can in furious licks.

“But what if-" the murmurs pool between kisses, “I’m horrible? And naggy? What if in five months you hate my voice, or my laugh?” She paws at his cheeks.

“What if I’m a bad mother? Could you still love me then, Fig?”

Fig chuckled softly at her questions and her ministrations. He was still, soaking her in with a happily thudding heart. He leaned back to find her eyes, smiling lovingly at her beautiful face.

"What if I fall down a cliff and lose all of my legs?" he countered, "Or I come off bad in a fight and am horribly disfigured?"

"I can't imagine any of our hypothetical situations coming true," he said, kissing her softly, "Nor can I imagine anything changing the way I feel right now, even if they did."

“I could be into legless, scarred guys,” comes the tease as she settles her head on an arm to admire him. With her eyes she traces the cut of his jaw and the fullness of his face, lifting again to see how his eyes glint with humor. That playfulness, she thinks, she loves most.

Love.

Her insecure self had guessed nothing as heated as what she and Fig had could go on indefinitely; that he would tire of the valley and return to the East. She hoped one day they might all go to see his family. All five of them.

But for now, she wanted just the two of them. Just the simplicity of this.

“It’s nice,” she whispers, “not doing this alone. I thought I could. But I don’t want to.”

Her words made him laugh. Fig lifted his head to nip lightly at the tip of her ear, then began grooming her affectionately. He felt light as a feather now that his confession had been revealed. And even reciprocated! He marveled at that. Was it possible?

"Together is much better," he said with a smile through her fur, "Can you imagine two against one all the time? Especially our two?

“They certainly take after your side of the family,” she grins, leaning the crown of her head into his.

She blooms, to feel that his kiss is for her. Now that she can be honest with him she is overwhelmed, like there are a thousand things she wants to tell him at once, stories and opinions and things so trivial they should not rightly matter to anyone at all.

But that was the magic of love- that they got to share it all.

“I struggle not to look at you when you’re near,” she admits playfully, fidgeting again in his grasp. He was her’s, now. And how should she have him?

“Do you think about… marriage?” She can’t believe the ask leaves her lips- she’d never wanted it before. But now she does, to share a name with Fig, and perhaps, selfishly, let the world know that they belonged to one another.

"Maybe your side of the family... could be mine, too."

His smile deepened, though he wondered about that suddenly. He wouldn't argue that their children were Redhawks through and through, but he realized now that he knew very little of her family. He would have to ask about that, though he felt no rush to do so. Not when he was confident now that he had months and even years to do so.

"I have the same problem with you," he commented lightly, "I wonder if the pack has noticed."

Her question of marriage gave him pause. Fig was not at all opposed—quite the opposite. He was simply taken by the sound of her name in his head. Tauris Redhawk. It was like a song.

"As far as I'm concerned, I've been yours since the day we met and that will always be," he said, his eyes finding hers, "I can think of no greater honor than to hear you call yourself Redhawk."

Their fate was suddenly quite settled but she no longer held any anxiety around such permanence. Fig made everything easy- he was so wonderfully steadfast. She was not afraid to tether herself to him. Her mind strummed through domestic scenes- teaching their children how to hunt come Spring, laughing and telling stories in their home and grooming Fig after dinner. She was surprised how much she wanted that.

All this giddiness weaves into the corners of her mouth as she balls herself into the crook of his arm.

“My husband,” she tests quietly, wondering at it, thoroughly addicted to the way it feels on her tongue.

"Tauris Redhawk," she tries next, smiling. Her heart beat rushes, overwhelmed again by her love for him.