ticking time bomb, self-destruct

Blood red sap like a burn victim’s skin.

The bark was dark, dark with it, with the red sap, saturated and permeated, charred in its hue. It oozed and spilled from every crack, from every crevice. Down along its branches. Down along its trunk. Down along its roots.

It stuck to his shoulder.

It stuck to his leg.

He dropped to his belly.

He licked and chewed at his front right paw.

The sap clung to it.

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Someplace he hadn't yet been. The forest was on the edge of all places he had never wandered, too far away from the glade to afford an easy walk, and too close to the warmer region to attract Klaus's usual pattern of travelling where the cold lingered.

He was unaware of the sap. In fact, in all of his rogue lifestyle, he had never encountered something quite like it. So when he entered the clearing and was presented with a man painted in crimson tar, his first reaction was as quick, sharp inhale.

"What's wrong with you?" The behemoth of a brute would inquire, his baritone a much higher pitch than usual. Pumpkin-hue gaze would skip over the sticky mess, unsure of where to begin.

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‘What's wrong with you?’

He snarled.

Rankled.

His hackles raised. His ears folded back. The bridge of his muzzle furrowed and ridged. Folded muscle and skin. His tongue pressed forward. Out of his mouth.

“Fuck off, brownie.”

He was fucking busy.

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It had been some time since he last was graced by the sound of a man's distaste for Klaus's choice of words. In truth, the idea hadn't crossed his mind that he might have bothered the other male with his greeting. It's why he had spoken so swiftly, without pause, or consideration. Now that he was facing a set of pearl-white teeth and narrowed eyes, he found it in himself to utter a reproachful chuckle.

Especially, absolutely when he caught the unfiltered rage forced upon his given nickname.

"Ah, down boy," he'd retort, still keeping his distance (and his impossible jest). "I'm not here to give you a hard time. Just curious what bloody beast you managed to piss off. Painted you nice and pretty," he'd follow shortly, looking him up and down with a raking smile.

Bastard he might be, gentle he was not.

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‘Ah, down boy,’

He snarled, again.

Louder this time, and stronger.

Defensive.

Partially stood, his back feet flat. His hocks touching the ground. His tail curled around him.

His front paw fucking sticky. Red and dripping, oozing with the sap. Grass and dirt and small foliage catching, caught.

‘Painted you nice and pretty,’

“Fuck off.” He repeated, snarled, again.

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Not well received, it seemed. Falling short on his usual charm, Klaus had to put some effort into scrounging some casual decency. Or, maybe, he wanted to get a good chunk taken out of his neck from this stranger.

Well, fuck. It was the first male he had stumbled across. Maybe he shouldn't piss him off?

"I'd rather not. You're the first guy I've found in this mind-numbing place. You could be the worst, don't care, bite me if you want. I'll just be the annoying, wildly attractive thorn in your side for today." Smirk intact, he sat down rather purposefully, glowering at the crimson man across the way.

At least he wasn't boring.

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Why the fuck was he fucking sitting down?

He glowered.

His hackles stood on edge. His tail a mess of spiked blond and black fur like an angry bottle brush. His ears pulled back and splayed to the sides atop his head. His brow furrowed, heavy, over his eyes. And—

Yeah, no.

Fuck this.

Fuck him.

Fuck fucking everyone.

He should've stayed near the old man, and his batshit fucking insane pack. And maybe, maybe he could have gotten him to help get the sap all off, since he was so fucking insistent on helping, but not in the way he really wanted.

Or maybe he could have just fucking rubbed it all over him.

He shook his coat.

He licked his lips.

And he dropped to his stomach.

Awkward as fucking shit, his one fucking paw still fucking sticky with the fucking red shit dripping and oozing from the trees.

His ears still pinned back.

He chewed at the red sap clinging to his fur, the back of his right front paw.

“You’re fucking stupid.” He growled.

And he paused, mid-movement, mid-action, licking and chewing forgotten, for a moment.

“And fucking ugly.” He added.

Seriously, he had a fucking scar over half his fucking face.

It was fucking ugly.

---

He resumed his self-cleaning.

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His bloody companion held back nothing, instead focusing the majority of his energy on tearing Klaus a new one rather than cleaning up his own mess. Fine, the man would stare, expression devoid of any hint he was wounded by the other boy's words, be that way. He would remain sitting, crouched, bothersome.

"Thank you," he'd reply sweetly, feeling his paws squelch as they landed in some stray sap. Not nearly as much as this guy had - just a slight, sticky annoyance. Of course the first time he found another male it'd be the one to despise his existence. It was entertaining, although a bit repetitive if he lingered for too long. Perhaps he'd only stay long enough to see if this stranger actually wanted a solution to his problem, or for him to truly leave him to his sap.

The other went back to grooming after his tirade of insults was done. Klaus took the chance to speak again. "You missed a spot. Right about - oh. Well, everywhere." Teasing, picking, prodding at the boy. "I could help."

If he, y'know, allowed it.

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‘Thank you,’

He snorted.

Huffed.

His ears pressed back against his head while he licked and chewed.

Fucking dumbass.

‘I could help.’

His eyes flashed. His body tensed. His hackles raised.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He growled.

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Klaus felt like he was trying to roll a boulder uphill. Unsure of how to proceed, he shrugged, finally rising to his feet to begin the trek away from the strange man that refused any help and never ran out of insults.

"Your choice. Enjoy the sap," he jerked his chin, a silent goodbye as he turned to walk away. He didn't want help, and he wasn't going to babysit the man, so he was ready to leave him to it.

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‘Your choice. Enjoy the sap,’

His ears pressed back against his head.

His tongue rasping, dragging, against the fur of his paw.

He huffed.

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