darling, everything's on fire (c)

Bubblebeam was a miracle. Did she even have to put any effort into the endeavor of lifting Silverhawk’s spirits? No, surely she didn’t. She merely needed to exist in his presence and his heart was buoyed. Silverhawk hadn’t felt right for several days, verging on a week or more, he’d stopped counting the time. He refused to let go of his fury regarding his demotion, and now the alarm of the situation with Wolfpaw which, similarly, would not leave his mind… All together, it was almost too much for him to bear. Not that he was inclined to detail his stress to anyone, even if it was evident in the slippage of his usually regulated composure (which only added to his constant aggravation). But when he had a moment to sit and talk with Bubblebeam… his concerns were nearly forgotten. Silverhawk was not capable of putting either of the largest stressors from his mind entirely, but he could push them far enough away to- to smile. He wasn’t sure how often he smiled these days. It was always easier with her.

As furious as he was with Leopardstar’s ruling, he was glad she’d had enough sense to let Bubblebeam into the Clan. Stars, he was grateful to have her now, have her somewhere he never had to let go.

Eventually, Bubblebeam had to go, called off for a final patrol of the night. Silverhawk nodded and waved his tail farewell, watching over his shoulder as she went. He would have wilted after she’d gone, turned sour by the absence of any comforting presence, but no sooner than Bubblebeam had made it out of camp was there the sensation of small paws swiping at the end of his tail.

There were two cats who would greet him like that: Nettleweaver, perhaps, if he was feeling brave, and far more likely, Hedgepaw. Silverhawk did not need to turn around to know which it was. He would know his family anywhere, in any way. His smile, which had started to fall, was rising again when he did turn around to blink down at his sister. ”Hedge,” he greeted softly, voice warm with affection. There was a moment, looking down at her, where he was gripped with fear: was she hurt in any way? Was she safe? In distress? Did she need him? But then Silverhawk took in the roundness of her eyes, the height of her upturned mawline, and he relaxed.

At ease, Silverhawk let his smile grow a little wider. He turned around to face Hedgepaw fully and reached out to place a paw atop her head, gently ruffling the fur there. What were they talking about? What an odd question. It made Silverhawk’s whiskers twitch. Maybe it was with amusement; maybe it wasn’t. Even he wasn’t really sure. ”Nothing important,” Silverhawk answered with a light chuckle. And that was the truth. All they spoke of was how Bubblebeam was settling, their individual schedules for the rest of the night--when they’d see each other again. Silverhawk had promised to wait for her. Why did he feel defensively about sharing that with Hedge, of all cats? He blinked and settled on adding, ”Just schedules.” Then a wrinkle, this a sign of proper amusement, appeared in the bridge of his muzzle. ”Why?” Silverhawk hummed, light and teasing as he leaned down to be closer to eye level with Hedgepaw. ”When did you get to be the nosy sort, hm?”

Silverhawk couldn’t help but laugh at Hedgepaw’s defense. He supposed it wasn’t wrong, no--he felt the same curiosity whenever he saw her speaking with Fishpaw, though his interest held a more aggressive edge than hers ever could. And again, another sound of humor at the statement that she didn’t mind. Though Hedgepaw’s continuance made his whiskers twitch. When had they spoken? He hadn’t seen it. Possession in regard to both cats made his blood run briefly hot. What did they need with each other that had nothing to do with him? A blink. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he? They were Clanmates now, and Bubblebeam was bound to be considered family one day besides. Why shouldn’t they talk? Besides, he wanted his family to like her; to approve of her. Talking was a good thing. But it soured Silverhawk’s stomach. He wondered if he’d ever recover from what had gone wrong inside him.

Another blink, and his eyes were sliding down to watch the smaller white paw swat against his own. A chuff left him. He was considering a response when Hedgepaw went drawling on with a question that made the just-dissipating heat rush back into his veins. It was moderately difficult to resist flattening his ears, narrowing his eyes. Though he wanted to appear crossly, he just looked at Hedgepaw with a sort of mild curiosity, or perhaps surprise. He brought on a smile, though it was pinched at the corners. What had he done to give her the idea they were anything more than friends? He’d been too obvious, hadn’t he? Worn his foolish heart squarely on his pelt. Silverhawk’s stomach turned again, sick mostly with himself now.

”Of course we’re friends,” he said, easy and jovial despite how he felt. His tail curled back and forth behind him. ”I wouldn’t have invited her to the Clan if we weren’t.” He laughed. He wasn’t helping himself at all, was he? No, he was certainly making things worse. Most cats that went to that length only did so for love. Silverhawk could practically feel any ground he had to stand on evaporating beneath his paws, leaving a cold and plummeting feeling to fill his body. ”And that’s all we are. I’ve known her for a while, and we’re close.” He shrugged. He hated to lie to Hedgepaw, but he couldn’t bear to profess the truth to anyone that wasn’t already aware of it. He still frequently envisioned Leopardstar breathing down his neck. Would she believe him? Would she share her idea with others? What if she turned to Hawkmist, who she was frustratingly fond of, to inquire about his opinion? What did it matter? Silverhawk cleared his throat. ”Why?” He hummed, light as he could. ”Somebody give you ideas?”

Silverhawk returned the nod of understanding with a shallow bow of his own head. Hedgepaw’s smile--and the explanation that came with it--made his features soften as he regarded her. To be happy like Forestbreeze and Pineblossom were… yes, that did sound nice. Especially to share that happiness with Bubblebeam (and Hawkmist). The gentle earnesty of her admission nearly--though only nearly--made him want to relent and share the truth of his feelings with Hedgepaw. Instead, Silverhawk just issued a hum of acknowledgment and gently ruffled the fur atop her head again before retracting his paw to let her think.

It was a few moments as Hedgepaw tipped whatever she was considering around in her head, but eventually, she came to a conclusion. Silverhawk’s own head dipped to the side as she turned to regard him once again, smiling brightly. What could she have come up with, especially relating to the topic at paw? What mischief? What idea was so great?

The answer to his questions came slowly. At first, she spoke of Bubblebeam--a reasonable connection--though the speech made something sour twist to life in him. What did she need with another sibling? Hedgepaw assured that she loved him--and the rest of their family--quite dearly, but still, Silverhawk found his weight shifting a bit. She had him. Wasn’t that enough? Silverhawk had never wanted for more in the aspects of family; he’d just been blessed with it. And however little he liked their closeness, she had Hawkmist as well. There was a part of him that supposed Bubblebeam’s magnetism was impossible to resist, even in the familial, but that did not stop the illogical bitterness.

And then there was the conclusion of her idea: to set Bubblebeam up with Hawkmist. Silverhawk felt as if the soft ground had dropped out from beneath his paws, though he did not give the feeling away. For the first time, he wanted to snap his teeth at a family member--at little Hedge. For a few moments, Silverhawk just sat very, very still, quelling the tempest that rose with a suddenness to life within him. Wasn’t it bad enough that Hawkmist was nearly capable of stealing his sister away from him? (She said it herself--he was practically family to her.) Enough that Bubblebeam had stumbled into Hawkmist’s life, too, that they’d known each other far before that Gathering and that they were good to each other? That it would be entirely reasonable if Hawkmist came to realize one day, of his own accord, that Bubblebeam was far better company--far better in soul--than Silverhawk tended to be?

His weight finally began to shift again. Silverhawk’s head moved to the side, eyes sliding away. A low, thoughtful hum rolled out of his throat. What could he say to Hedgepaw that was not crueler than anything she deserved to hear? That would still keep his deep and complicated feelings about Hawkmist a secret? His feelings about Bubblebeam, as well? His jagged-toothed possessiveness?

Eventually, Silverhawk shook his head and managed to swivel his attention back around to Hedgepaw. He studied her for a moment, levelly meeting her glowing eyes--almost hard to deny, but not quite--before saying, ”Don’t you think I know her well enough already, if I like her enough to invite her to ShadowClan?” His nose wrinkled and he smiled teasingly, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. ”Besides, we must know different Hawkmists. I can’t imagine mine falling over himself for anyone.” Was that true, or was it perfectly easy to imagine them entwined with Bubblebeam the way they often sat in privacy--and terribly difficult to imagine Hawkmist harboring the same emotions for him? Silverhawk blinked slowly.

”I’ll see what I can do,” he promised after a beat. His nose wrinkled again and he smiled kindly. Would he? Certainly not. Perhaps he would invent some terrible lie to tell one or both of them, something that would ensure they would never speak to each other again--but no, he couldn’t do that. Largely not to Bubblebeam. But he wouldn’t be happy with the result, either. What then? He would have to intervene somehow. Perhaps he could arrange their array of schedules so he could be the sole occupant of both cats’ time--and to keep Hedgepaw from interfering. That couldn’t be difficult, could it? Hedge would be happy with the belief that he was aiding on her asinine quest, and he would quietly engineer marvels to keep her goal from ever being realized. She would never be the wiser. Neither would Hawkmist, nor Bubblebeam.