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Barley looked into the window. It was dark outside. Small, barely visible little white dots were scattered across the sky. The moon was not quite full yet, though on its way to becoming one. Barley liked to watch the way the horizon turned from dark blue to violet, from grey to black; he liked to watch the way the colors reflected on Ravenpaw's fur even more.
Ravenpaw's jet-black fur was pressed against his. Barley's paws were folded under him, his tail resting on top of the smaller tom's. He could feel the tip of Ravenpaw's ears tickle the underside of his jaw.
"The weather is warming up," Ravenpaw murmured. His voice was soft, and gentle, in a way it rarely was when they were not alone together.
Barley nodded. "Summer is arriving."
Raven made a small questioning noise from the back of his throat. Barley realized he probably did not know what the word even meant. Even years after leaving his Clan, Ravenpaw could never get used to this language. Some other cat might have found this annoying, but Barley decided that it was simply, unbearably endearing. He wanted to tell Ravenpaw all about rogue words, and have Ravenpaw teach him Clan terms in return. He wanted to share everything with him.
"Summer is what you call the Greenleaf season," Barley reminded him, mellow fondness blooming inside his chest.
"Oh!" Ravenpaw's tail flicked against his. "I remember, now. I'm sorry for forgetting it all the time."
"It's alright." Barley glanced down, turning his head to the side. He was only barely surprised to directly meet Ravenpaw's gaze.
The smaller tom seemed startled, at first. Sheepish and probably embarrassed from being caught staring, his fur bristled as he looked away. Barley purred in amusement. This was something he had grown to love about Ravenpaw, as well. Clan cats rarely took mates of the same gender, contrarily to kittypets and loners. After all, while having kits was essential to a Clan's survival, it was not necessary for other felines. Ravenpaw was utterly inexperienced. And, as it seemed, completely unaware that Barley and he were, well— courting.
Barley nudged Ravenpaw with the tip of his nose, "See something you like?"
He nearly laughed when Ravenpaw sputtered, basil-colored eyes going wide. The smaller tom shook his head furiously. "I— No."
"Ah," Barley tilted his head to the side. "Are you saying I'm unpleasant to look at, then?"
"Of course not!" Ravenpaw blurted out, "Barley, don't tease. You know I— You know I enjoy looking at you."
Barley stayed silent for a while, impossibly amused. Ravenpaw let out a sigh.
"That came out wrong," he mumbled.
"In what way?"
Ravenpaw hesitated. "Well, it makes it sound as if I'm…"
Ah. There was it. Barley leaned to the right to lay on his side, watching the anxious, sweet jet-black tom with no small amount of affection. He brushed Ravenpaw's flank with the tip of his tail. Ravenpaw shivered, leaning into his touch as he always did. Barley had always known that Ravenpaw was touch-starved — ever since he had joined him in the barn — but it was always a wonder to see.
Barley purred softly. "As if you…?"
Ravenpaw's eyes lit up with understanding. His mouth fell open. "...Oh. Barley, am I—? Are we—?"
"You should finish your phrases, Ravenpaw," Barley murmured with mirth. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me."
"You can guess," Ravenpaw objected.
"I could." Barley shrugged. "I'd like for you to say it, though."
Ravenpaw's eyes fluttered shut. His front paws kneaded the hay beneath them in repetitive motions. Barley recognized this as a way to calm himself down, and allowed the smaller tom to take a breather. Gently, he caressed his pelt. Once Ravenpaw was soothed, he met his gaze and drew in a breath.
"Are we mates?" he asked. His voice was so, so gentle. "I– I know you are a tom, Barley, and that I am one too, but I thought—"
Barley's heart felt impossibly full. He had never loved anyone more. Violet had once been his world, but Ravenpaw had become his entire universe moons ago. He lowered his muzzle to press it against the smaller tom's. Ravenpaw's breath fell on his cheek.
"You silly cat." Barley purred as he felt, more than heard, the relieved shudder that overcame the other tom. "You're allowed to stare at me, you know? I stare at you, too."
Ravenpaw laughed nervously. "You don't."
"I do."
Ravenpaw choked, tilting his face upwards to nuzzle their muzzles together. Barley savored the softness of his fur, the tickle of his whiskers. "Is that true?"
"Of course."
"Oh, Barley, I thought I was going crazy," Ravenpaw suddenly admitted. "This warmth that bubbles inside my chest every time I see you… I've never had a mate before, but I know for a fact that it's not something I'd feel for just any cat. I didn't know if that was normal. I didn't know if… If you felt it, too."
Barley sighed. "I know. I bet you've never been told you could feel anything for a tom before."
"I haven't," Ravenpaw agreed, flustered, "But I— I do truly want to be yours, Barley."
"I want you, Ravenpaw. If you'll have me, I'll stay by your side forever." Barley felt pure, raw, unaltered love wrap its claws around his heart. Ravenpaw was the most beautiful cat he had ever seen; his fur tinted in blue and violet under the sky's light, his eyes the most visceral shade of green Barley knew.
Ravenpaw trembled and pressed himself against him. Their fur mingled, long and short and black and white. It was warm.
"I love you, Barley," the smaller tom murmured.
Barley had never been brave before, in his life. But here, under the pale moonlight, tail entangled with Ravenpaw's, Barley decided to be courageous. And so he lowered his face, pressed their foreheads together, and purred.
"And I love you, too."