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(This story follows “Pale Treasures” and is part of the ”Developing Feelings Between Otter and Newt” storyline.) Otter rubbed his wet hair dry. Another night full of water, fishing, and fooling around with Newt had come to an end - another night of switching between teasing, playing, and confusion about the younger elf. And again Newt had agreed to come and stay over at his den. Otter knew what that meant: another day he would hardly find sleep. Another day he would lie awake, wondering. Wondering how that snow-white skin could feel so warm. Wondering how this pale skin would taste. Wondering if this would change everything between them if he tried. Newt was out to fetch some stuff from the den he still shared with Greenweave and Cloudfern. Otter meanwhile had moved into his own little den. This day it could be useful. Maybe the time to wonder was over. Maybe he just should try. It had been his mother who had reminded him that some elves needed a little nudge into the right direction. No pushing – just a little nudge. Newt was such a physical young elf. Whenever he could, he searched for contact. Maybe he just needed such a little nudge to go the full distance. Before he could continue this thought Newt rushed in, pushing the hood of his poncho off of his face. In his arm he held a little pot. The smell of herbs filled Otter’s nose, mixed with Newt’s very own scent. Like the scent of Crackle and Fadestar, Newt’s scent had started to change a little. It was more intense and more inviting and it seemed as if it was becoming stronger every day. The young elf said something but Otter hardly paid attention. He just had to chuckle at the way his young friend tried to do everything at once: talking, pulling off his tunic and balancing the little pot with herbs Cloudfern kept prepared in case of a little sunburn over to one of the shelves. Getting up, Otter took the pot and placed it aside, then grabbed the end of Newt’s poncho and pulled it over his head so the lad could untangle himself a little. The long-sleeved, turtleneck tunic was tight-fitting. It always seemed like a fight to get in and out of it. Otter knew why he preferred his loincloth. It was less bothersome. As soon as Newt managed to get the tunic off he gave a sigh of relief and ruffled his own bright hair. Again he mumbled something but Otter had problems following his words. Newt sat down on his furs, pushing off his boots and talking – smiling with his cheeks flushed. Maybe he should try to listen harder but all Otter had in mind was how weird and fascinating Newt’s white lean body shone against the dark brown shades of his furs and the walls of the den. Just a little nudge. Otter sat down slowly next to Newt, who folded his pants in his lap and neatly put them aside. He had stopped talking and stretched now. His arms, his legs, his neck – then he just let himself fall back and gave a blissful sigh. Just a tiny little nudge. “I like to stay over here,” Newt said, looking directly at Otter now. The older elf dropped down on his elbow and gave him a playful grin. Maybe this was the right time. Everything seemed perfect. He could probably make sure that Newt would like it even more to stay over with him. Otter reached out for Newt’s face. A tiny, harmless, little nudge – not too much – testing how ready the young one was, reminding the already very physical lad that there were other ways to spend time in the furs than with sleeping. The very moment he touched Newt, the younger boy grasped his arm and pulled himself closer to Otter. Newt wrapped his arms around him and snuggled into the furs at Otter's side. “It’s also very necessary at times – to stay over, I mean. At times I know Greenweave and Cloudfern need the den for their own.” he said and then gave a little yawn. His cheeks turned slightly pink and he chuckled. “It’s impossible to sleep with that tension.” The slim pale body pressed against Otter’s side and his heart skipped a beat. Newt’s eyes had shut and he searched for a comfortable position. NOW! He had to do something NOW, otherwise… … Newt would fall asleep… Newt’s breath had become even, his arm over Otter’s chest slightly heavier. Sleep had been faster than Otter. Again. With a sigh, Otter looked sideways into his sleeping friend’s face. Newt's shaggy white hair fell wild around his pale face, his lip curled into a peaceful smile, his cheeks still slightly pink. He looked pure and innocent, like fresh fallen snow. Pure and innocent. The young fisher had to smile a little at this thought and wiped some of the white mess of hair away from Newt’s forehead. “Oh well…” Otter muttered to himself and rubbed his face with one hand - knowing sleep would not be his friend and his curiosity would have to wait. “One more time…. Just one more time…”
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