It wasn't alright, unfortunately. Not now. Hopefully, someday, it might be... but not yet. Not when the wounds were still so fresh, and the memories along with them. And not when the reassurance came in what sounded like so grudging a voice. That was fine, though. He hadn't expected forgiveness when he'd done nothing yet to earn it, and he accepted the weight of that displeasure as only fair. But it also wasn't a rejection of him. Rory wasn't telling him to leave, or pushing him away. He had reached out to touch the fox's nose in reminder of better times between them, and there was an undeniable relief in knowing that their strange, sweet, complicated relationship had grown strong enough to weather even the nightmare that Long Night had become.
He didn't understand what he saw in Rory's blue eyes. But then, he wasn't sure what he was feeling in his own heart anymore, except that he wanted to offer his friend his support and comfort, so long as the other man was willing to accept it. Rory had already given him so much, but of things that were intangible and difficult to explain. He'd never had a relationship like this before; a friendship that was both more intimate in the way they touched and strangely distant in how little the blond knew about him beyond the form that was only half of his life.
And now the bird form he... wasn't quite sure how to deal with yet.
But for a little while longer, at least, he didn't have to think too deeply about such things. He could cuddle against his friend and let the familiar pleasure of gentle fingers soothe him. His tail shifted in a contented canine wag as Rory leaned back against him, a soft sigh escaping as he let some of the tension in his chest go, accepting at last that Rory was going to be okay. That they were going to be okay. Even if Long Night wasn't over yet, they would see the dawn, eventually.
But...he didn't know if Rory remembered seeing him shift. If he had, and they still had this moment... had he been a fool to hide his human form all this time? Through a season and a half... over four months they had known each other. So when Rory eventually tired of scratching him the fox carefully sat back - but remained pressed close to the human's hip. He watched his friend with eyes that held both hope and fear and tilted his head questioningly, giving a soft, querying bark in the dimly lit room.
He didn't understand what he saw in Rory's blue eyes. But then, he wasn't sure what he was feeling in his own heart anymore, except that he wanted to offer his friend his support and comfort, so long as the other man was willing to accept it. Rory had already given him so much, but of things that were intangible and difficult to explain. He'd never had a relationship like this before; a friendship that was both more intimate in the way they touched and strangely distant in how little the blond knew about him beyond the form that was only half of his life.
And now the bird form he... wasn't quite sure how to deal with yet.
But for a little while longer, at least, he didn't have to think too deeply about such things. He could cuddle against his friend and let the familiar pleasure of gentle fingers soothe him. His tail shifted in a contented canine wag as Rory leaned back against him, a soft sigh escaping as he let some of the tension in his chest go, accepting at last that Rory was going to be okay. That they were going to be okay. Even if Long Night wasn't over yet, they would see the dawn, eventually.
But...he didn't know if Rory remembered seeing him shift. If he had, and they still had this moment... had he been a fool to hide his human form all this time? Through a season and a half... over four months they had known each other. So when Rory eventually tired of scratching him the fox carefully sat back - but remained pressed close to the human's hip. He watched his friend with eyes that held both hope and fear and tilted his head questioningly, giving a soft, querying bark in the dimly lit room.
