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Summary
Verso hurriedly presses his own hand against Monoco’s, trying to calm him down. His bark was dry against his skin. Grounding. Lovely. “It’s just a migraine, mon vieux. I’ll be fine once it passes.”
There’s a pause as Monoco’s urgent panic, explosive without a target, is simmered down to a flickering wick when the puzzle pieces assembled. His grip turns gentle, still heavy, but less severe. The tender “oh” he breathes out has Verso’s abdomen clenching with something other than queasiness.
Verso has a migraine. Monoco takes care of him. Long overdue actions are taken…and maybe some other long things as well (wink wink nudge nudge)
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Bookmark Notes:
So cute ah