Mousewhisker stops and glares. “Berrynose, what are you talking about? You said you needed my help.”
“In a ‘help me to help you’ kind of way, yeah.”
“You said Hazeltail is going to kill you!”
“If this doesn’t go well then she probably will,” Berrynose agrees. “Just keep in mind that you’re guilty by association so she’ll kill you once she’s done with me. So do your best to save our pelts, okay?”
Just as Mousewhisker decides that whatever is about to happen is not worth it, Berrynose makes a show of tripping over a rock and falling right into Mousewhisker, forcefully shoving him into the cat behind him. Mousewhisker hears a loud ‘oomph’ and the next thing he knows, he’s on his back staring up at silverpelt and his head is pounding.
What--
“Watch where you’re going!” A voice snaps, and suddenly he’s not staring up at silverpelt anymore; he’s staring into a pair of dark amber eyes. Mousewhisker’s heart stutters.
“I wasn’t,” he says, as he rises to his paws. His tongue feels dry and heavy in his mouth. “I mean, Berrynose pushed me--”
“I tripped,” Berrynose helpfully corrects. “My bad. How’s the prey running, Breezepelt?”
Breezepelt stares at them with open disgust. “Trust ThunderClan to make a scene at a Gathering,” Breezepelt mutters, completely ignoring Berrynose’s question. “What, can’t handle not being the center of attention for one night?”
Mousewhisker doesn’t have very much pride, but he has enough to make an attempt at defending himself. “Hey, it was an accident.”
“Hey, I don’t care,” Breezepelt fires back. Cats are looking at them; in the corner of his eye, Mousewhisker sees Hazeltail picking her way through the crowd with murderous intent in her eyes. “Are your reflexes so poor that you can’t--”
Mousewhisker takes a deep breath and plasters a smile across his face, manuavering so that Hazletail can see is his friendly expression. “You’re right,” Mousewhisker interupts. “It’s completely my fault. How can I make it up to you?”
That actually seems to catch Breezepelt off guard. “Make it up to me?” He repeats, like he heard wrong.
“Sure. I mean, that was a hard fall. Does your head hurt?”
Breezepelt stares at him. “Does my head hurt?”
The way Breezepelt keeps repeating the questions is concerning; does no one ever ask this cat if he’s okay? Another thought for another time; Hazeltail has finally reached them and is furiously whispering in Berrynose’s ear, but her gaze is stuck on Mousewhisker.
Mousewhisker pretends he doesn’t notice her; like he’s only got eyes for Breezepelt. “Can I sit with you tonight?” He asks. “I’ve got pretty good commentary, I bet I could make you laugh a lot--”
“You hit your head when you fell,” Breezepelt says dryly.
“I did,” Mousewhisker agrees. “Keep an eye on me in case I pass out from blunt force trauma?”
Breezepelt furrows his brow. “Literally every medicine cat in the Clans in here right now.”
Hazeltail is watching him with unmasked suspicion. Mousewhisker remembers the time she found out that he snuck out of camp and went swimming on a dare, and he shivers.
“So, can we sit behind your medicine cat, then?” Mousewhisker asks. “Because I don’t think Jayfeather really likes me, or anyone else for that matter--”
“I’m not sitting anywhere near Jayfeather,” Breezepelt snaps, and, wonderful, cats are starting to look at them again. Hazeltail stands to her paws and walks towards him.
“Great, so it’s decided! We’ll sit behind Kestrelflight!” Mousewhisker starts herding Breezepelt towards the medicine cats despite his protest, but Mousewhisker would rather deal with an angry Breezepelt than his own sister.
Kestrelflight looks up as they approach and the surprise on his face is clear as day. “Hey, Breezepelt,” he greets. “Did you make a friend?”
Kestrelflight doesn’t sound patronizing, and from what Mousewhisker knows about him he’s actually a very kind cat, but Breezepelt bristles, offended by the question. “This hare-brain is not my friend,” he growls. Ah, so it’s the implication he’s offended by, not the question. Mousewhisker should probably be offended by that, but again, he’s not got a lot of pride.
“I hit my head,” Mousewhisker explains. “Breezepelt thought it was be a good idea to sit behind you in case I pass out.”
“This was not my idea!”
Kestrelflight, like any decent medicine cat, looks alarmed. “You hit your head? Hold on, I’ll get Barkface--”
“No,” Breezepelt steps in, making Kestrelflight pause. “I-- It’s fine, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Kestrelflight hesitates. “Okay, but let me know if you start to feel funny, Mousewhisker.”
“Will do,” Mousewhisker chirps. When he turns to look at Breezepelt, the other tom is glowering at him. “These are really good spots, I’m never this close to the leaders.”
Breezepelt doesn’t respond. Just keeps glowering.
Mousewhisker forces his smile to not waver, and sends a silent thanks to StarClan when Blackstar finally arrives and the reports can begin.
--
Mousewhisker has a habit of making lists in his head; it came with that desprate need to be loved. He would note every little thing about his Clanmates, their likes and dislikes and what made them laugh and what made them scowl, and he would act accordingly.
This is a different kind of list.
Reasons why I should have let Hazeltail kill me:
Because this is the most awkward Gathering I’ve ever had to sit through, including the last Gathering.
Because Kestrelflight keeps turning around to make sure I’m still alive, and every time he seems surprised by it.
Because I can hear Heathertail and Haresping whispering about us and I don’t like it.
Because in my peripheral vision, Breezepelt looks a lot like Hollyleaf.
That last one is by far the most jarring. Mousewhisker isn’t dumb, he knows exactly why Berrynose shoved him into Breezepelt.
Because Berrynose is convinced that Mousewhisker should move on with one of Hollyleaf’s siblings (which is already weird enough) and Berrynose would literally rather Mousewhisker have a fling with Breezepelt than with Lionblaze (which is just ridiculous). Berrynose probably saw Breezepelt tonight, remembered that, oh yeah, he’s Hollyleaf’s half-brother, and maybe even considered it a bonus that Hollyleaf and Breezepelt look so much alike.
(Which Mousewhisker has actually noticed before, coincidentally. It was at another Gathering right after he received his warrior name and he went looking for Hollyleaf and thought he’d found her talking to some WindClan warriors, but when Mousewhisker said her name Breezepelt turned around instead.)
(He remembers the way his face flushed hot when Breezepelt turned around. That was the night he accepted that he must just have a thing for black cats.)
Mousewhisker looks over his shoulder and searches for Hazeltail. She’s good at reading lips, surely she’ll understand, Please come kill me now.
He makes eye contact with Heathertail first, who looks pointedly between Breezepelt and himself and then tilts her head curiously, and Mousewhisker spins right back around and subcombs to defeat.
“Stop moving,” Breezepelt says through gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” Mousewhisker whispers. “I’m not used to sitting this close to the front. It feels like everyone is staring at me.”
“Get over it, this was your idea.”
“It was a bad one,” Mousewhisker admits. Breezepelt radiates murderous intent. Mousewhisker adds this to his list as well: Because Breezepelt’s murderous intent feels darker than Hazeltail’s.
I should have faked a cold and stayed in camp, he thinks, glum. It was nice to talk to Minnowtail and some of his other friends at the beginning of the night, but everything since then has been awkward and the reports are dragging on forever and he feels like everyone is watching him, and he looks around every few moments, half-scared that someone is going to stand up and interrupt the leaders just to announce that they, too, are the offspring of Code breakers--
“You bet your commentary could make me laugh. So far you’re losing that bet.”
Mousewhisker blinks, turning slightly to face Breezepelt; the other tom is staring straight ahead, stonefaced. “Do you actually have a sense of humor for me to work with?”
“I do, but it’s very sophisticated.”
Mousewhisker suppresses a grin. “So no lewd innuendos?”
Breezepelt actually scoffs. “If you actually consider that humor then you’re more hopeless than you look.”
Fair enough, Mousewhisker thinks agreeably. He leans in closer to Breezepelt to keep from disturbing anyone else, and lowers his voice to a murmur. “So, have you heard the rumor that Rowanstar is actually the secret lovechild of Blackstar and Russetfur?”
He doesn’t consider that maybe he should actually stay far away from the topic of secret lovechilds if he’s trying to make Breezepelt laugh until after the question has left his mouth. Breezepelt doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Mousewhisker is thinking about how he’s going to add this to his list as well, when Breezepelt finally asks, “What about it?”
“I mean, what do you think about it?”
“It’s true, obviously. Look at Rowanclaw, he’s the perfect mixture of them both. Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Funny in an observational sense, not in like, a traditional sense.”
“So what you’re saying is that you lied to me when you said you could make me laugh.”
“I’m warming up!” Mousewhisker protests. “Okay, I’ve thought long and hard about this, and if I had to swap lives with one Clan leader then it would be…”
--
They carry on like that for the rest of the night. Mousewhisker never succeeds in making Breezepelt laugh; the most he gets is an amused snort, but when Mousewhisker tries to count it, Breezepelt claims it was out of pity.
Breezepelt takes a lot of jabs at Mousewhisker but Mousewhisker has learned to brush things off and roll with it. There are a few times when Breezepelt seems surprised by his nonchalant responses, and Mousewhisker can take pride in the fact that at least he’s managed to surprise Breezepelt.
As the leaders wrap up their reports and tell their Clans to say good-bye, Mousewhisker realizes that he’s actually enjoyed the Gathering. Breezepelt isn’t half-bad.
(And it doesn’t hurt that if Breezepelt doesn’t say anything at all, and Mousewhisker keeps him in his pherphicals, then he can almost convince himself that he’s talking to Hollyleaf…
Which is messed up, but Mousewhisker eases his guilt by reminding himself that he’s grieving. Grief isn’t always pretty.)
“Well,” Breezepelt starts, “you lost your own bet. That’s embarrassing.”
“You’re amused by my attempts, though,” Mousewhisker teases. “Admit it.”
“I pity you for your attempts.”
Mousewhisker shrugs, unperturbed. “I’ll take what I can get. Thanks for making sure I didn’t pass out from blunt force trama.”
“You didn’t hit your head that hard,” Breezepelt snorts.
Mousewhisker can’t resist a golden opportunity. Slyly, he asks, “Then why did you sit with me all night?”
The look on Breezepelt’s face is worth every single thing that’s happened all day. Mousewhisker can’t stop the smirk that spreads across his face, even as Firestar calls his Clan home.
Mousewhisker isn’t used to having the final word, so when he spins around and pads to the land bridge to join his patrol, there’s a spring in his step.
--
Hazeltail drags him to the back of the patrol and demands that he tell her everything.
“Berrynose tripped, shoved me into Breezepelt, I apologized to Breezepelt and asked if he wanted to sit with me, and that was that.”
Hazeltail’s gaze burns into the side of his head. “Berrynose just happened to trip and just happened to shove you into Breezepelt of all cats.”
“If you don’t believe me then ask Berrynose yourself. But if you trust Berrynose’s word over mine, then I’m going to be offended.”
“I already asked Berrynose.”
“And?”
Hazeltail narrows her eyes. “He said the same thing.”
“Well then, sounds like you’ve got the whole story, sis.”
For the second time that night, Mousewhisker gets the final word; a new record!
okay wait you’re onto something with Breezepelt and Mousewhisker
Unfortunately, you're right.
I started writing the one-shot. Just to get it off my brain so that I can try to focus on FAB again so let's see if this goes anywhere, lol.
19 notes
·
View notes