[ ✸ ] SPLISH SPLASH I WAS TAKING A BATH.

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Crash landing into their den at the ripe time of 3AM (not that he could tell time or even knew what it entirely was) Flynnigan rolled upon the floor like butter to hot toast. Yipping and winning, leaving the comfort of their room to run up and down the hallways, the male was irritated. More specifically, his skin. He'd tried his might at Solo's Grooming Salon but it hadn't worked, and now he stank head to wanker of the brute.

“Babe, please.” Was she even bloody in here? He didn't know, he also wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Why? Well, he was only dragging his flea-infested body over their new wool blankets. “What have I done?”

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 She was sleeping fairly okay. After being up for hours in her empty den trying to soothe her own itchy skin, she'd finally fallen asleep. She'd been asleep for approximately an hour and a half when suddenly, motion shook her from her restless sleep and sent her to her paws, five feet from the nest, completely and utterly awake. Scents rocked her - Flynn's mostly but also ... Solomon's? The fog of sleep swept over her as she stared at him.

 “What did you do?” she managed to squeak out, blinking hard to try to clear her head as she hoped that what he said and what he smelled like weren't related in the way that struck chills into her and played horse plinko with an icy equine against the inside of her ribs.

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 Well, he didn't cringe in shame, and he didn't look like he was lying. She squinted at him, paused to scratch at her neck, and squinted at him again. He still smelled like the man and not in a way that Meissa really cared for. She stopped squinting to gnaw at her butt. Itchies? “Me too!” God, what were these called. They weren't sand fleas, those were huge in the desert and she hadn't seen any big things. Maybe... She looked at the white blanket where a tuft of Flynn's fur had landed.

 Squinted at it.

 “I think they're bouncy-bugs!” she said, then looked at him. Cooties? Wh. “I don- no. No, I don't think that's right.” She shook her head. What were they, infants? Even she, who had never paired with anyone properly until Flynn, knew well enough that cooties were fake. “Cooties are made up by pups. This itchy is real -” and she was pretty sure they were trying to chase them out of their home. She'd stopped mid sentence to chew on her shoulder. Then she squinted again. “Did you... get these from Solomon?”

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Flynn, clearly offended by her blatant disliking for his only male friend, scoffed. He shook a dainty paw at her, rapidly lifting his tail to cover the damp spots still upon his bum. “No, I was itchy before I talked to Solomon! And since it's clearly on yur mind, I only smell like him because he was tryin' tew figure out what was wrong, too.” He huffed, getting to his feet with intentions of walking over to her, simply to fall to his face in another fit of itching.

“You're clearly itchy too! Who was yew out flirtin' with while I was away?” He spoke teasingly, slinking over to her like a dog dragging its ass on the floor. Though of course, there was still a twang of anxiety in his playful tone, considering everything that had happened to him over the span of a few days. “I hope 'e was charmin'... Or she? 'Ince yur uh... Into that.”

—

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 He commented on her violence and she chuckled. She'd always been a bit of a brute, even when she was in the desert. She'd had to be quick on her feet, quick to bite and defend, just to survive. “My word is my bond,” she said, voice almost sing-songy, patting at him gently with a paw - though it was quickly rescinded so she could use that paw as leverage to scratch at the side of her neck.

 Her fiance asked about getting rid of them, then went on to talk about if the insects decided to spread and -

 “Again?” She studied his face, trying to figure out what in the hell he meant by that. He jumped off a mountain? When? Why? How? “When - ?” Had it been while she was around or before she was in their old pack? Her thoughts scrolled through and then targeted the most obvious answer.

 Still, what?

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Prehaps there would always be parts of their relationship that would remain buried within him; a ribbon tied, looped around a segment he wasn't proud of. He supposed, frankly, it was rather common for lovers to have boundaries. Even in a puddle of affection as deep and blue as the one he wallowed in. This was an important matter partly due to his approaching behaviours, the one where he attempted to take a step forward by taking two back. “Oh, love, I kid,” Letting a lie flick from his tongue as easily as his tail would to a fly.

“These... Bouncy bugs are simply makin' me nerves swell, ya know, aggravatin' in' all.” Jowls rippled in bated laughter as if he half expected her to giggle before he had. Her silence was something, however, he hadn't expected, and it brought a coughing fit to his chest as he went back to nibbling at his furs. “I do appreciate your worry, sometimes I'm still not used to et.” He... Wanted to change to tone, standing up to nudge his soon-to-be wife with his nose towards the exit of their den.

Did he know why he was moving her out? No, but it was something to do to avoid this.

—

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 She studied him, salmon gaze focused intensely on mossy green, even as he spoke of kidding, of jokes. It didn't sound like a joke... but it also didn't sound like he wanted to talk about it. She tapped her teeth together in thought, never parting her eyes from his face. Then, she moved forward, pressing her snout into his cheek and giving him a gentle kiss. Soft words escaped her lips, “When you're ready to talk about it,” and then she pulled away to look at him again.

 She sighed, doubting she was going to get it out of him right now.

 Perhaps next time, when they weren't so damn itchy.

 “Maybe we could drown'em,” she suggested finally, accepting his want to change the subject. Despite wanting desperately to know what he had been talking about, she didn't want to pry. It was his story to tell and she would let him tell it at his own pace, however long that might be. Her paws moved under her, nudged aside by Flynn towards the exit. “Cold water for itchies, yeah?”

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