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"Thanks," Shiloh said, scratching the back of his head with a grin. "You win some, you lose some."

He had an inkling of how Ian was feeling, about ready to collapse back into the mud himself, so he forewent the obvious questions of concern, as they both decidedly just needed some time to heal and regroup. He still was entirely sure what was going on, or why Ian had ushered them away from the pair. Except maybe because they were kissing, and could probably use a moment to themselves. Shiloh paled. Did Ian want to do that to him? What if they saw? He couldn't help it jumping to conclusions, because although normally oblivious, he couldn't deny that thoughts of that sort of thing had been on his brain often as of late.

He took a step back, as a precaution, and nearly slipped in the muck.

"Did I miss something back there?"

No, Ian most likely wasn’t going to jump him, but the misty rain and streaks of mud on his face lent him a more intimidating profile than usual, and Shiloh had just come off a riveting loss.

Oh, and the mud thing. There was also that.

Shiloh watched Ian carefully, not particularly considering the mud thing, even as Ian crouched and poked at the sloppy ground. After all, there was no reason for him to consider it, his mud ball had been aimed at Fini, and not the spectators. Though he might have encouraged her mud slinging, just a little bit.

“Well, that’s what you get for gambling,” Shiloh replied with a smirk, one that was quickly wiped off of his face when he noticed the ball of mud in Ian’s hand. Ian lunged forward, and Shiloh grabbed onto his wrist in protest, but it was too late for him to dodge.

“HEY! Ian, no-“

The mud ball splattered against his face, and the sudden force of Ian against him had him stumbling backward, unable to keep his balance on the slick surface. He landed a**-first in the mud, and sat there, trying to wipe the mud from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. His other arm drooped at his side, his hand in the mud.

“You didn’t owe me any favors,” Shiloh said quietly, not looking up. “Fini, threw it at you.”

Slowly, he got to his feet and finally glanced up at Ian, the grin on his face spelling certain doom.

“We should probably even the score, don’t you think?” he asked innocently, before pelting him with the mud ball in his hand.

His mud ball hit its intended target, but then that target was stalking towards him, looking very predatory. Shiloh gulped, and attempted to scoot backward, but was once again too slow, Ian having snared him in his claws, claws that were currently threatening to turn his pink hair brown.

While the Mist hunter was preoccupied with his hair, he scooped his hand through the sludge beside him, shoving what he gathered down Ian’s shirt.

Shiloh had been pretty muddy after his fight with Fini, but after Ian’s handiwork, he looked like he had practically bathed into the stuff. He’d managed to get the mud down Ian’s shirt in a last ditch effort of retaliation, but with the other hunter’s knee on his legs he was effectively immobilized, no matter how much he squirmed in the mire.

“Low, yes, and who has me pinned in the mud again?”

But his smugness was short lived as Ian pushed him back down in the mud again, his hands slick and wet on Shiloh’s neck. Shiloh grimaced, trying to wriggle away from him, but it was no use, and Ian’s grimy hands made their way down his sides.

“How do you even win a mud fight?” he laughed, trying to pry Ian’s hands away from him. Whatever the method was, he was sure it wasn’t going to end well for him.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he grumbled good-naturedly, relieved when Ian ceased tickling him, but glancing at him curiously as Ian slid his arm beneath and around him. Shiloh sat up a little, not out of Ian’s hold but enough so that he wasn’t lying entirely in the muck.

The hunter’s other hand moved to his forehead, his fingers sliding through the mud-soaked mess that was Shiloh’s hair. Shiloh blew out a sigh, and smiled, he was absolutely covered in mud, and he most certainly was gross.

“Gee, and I wonder who might be responsible for me being gross,” Shiloh teased, find a dry spot of clothing to wipe his hands off on. Finding none, he grinned, reaching up to wipe them over Ian’s cheeks.

“Now you’re gross too.”

“But Ian, it was Fini,” he whined anyway, letting go of Ian’s face and using his now sort of clean hands to try and clean his own face. It was a good thing that he had, because in the next moment, Ian had leaned forward and kissed him, the touch of his lips fleeting, and exhilarating, no matter how quick. Shiloh nearly fell back in the mud again.

His cheeks warmed beneath the mud caked on his face, and he couldn't help but give the area a sweeping glance, as though someone might have stumbled onto them. He felt guilty doing it, and he wasn’t sure entirely why he cared, it wasn’t as if he knew enough people on Deus to even fear people recognizing him, or spreading rumors. Besides, they were both trainees, and no one seemed to really care what trainees got up to. Still, as Ian pushed himself back, Shiloh didn’t stop him, watching him retreat. He had woken up from their last meeting in a bubble of warmth and comfort, but even as they’d parted, no questions had been answered. Not that Shiloh had been brave enough to ask them, but he wasn’t sure what all this meant, or where it was leading. Ian was used to going with the flow, and Shiloh was usually the same, but he was so unknowledgeable about this sort of thing, except what he knew from everyone else’s experiences besides his own. Not to mention that all of his friends back home had been straight, and Deus was the first time he’d even dreamed of the possibility of coming out. He wanted to go with the flow, but there was a lot of old debris and baggage blocking it up.

“It’s okay,” Shiloh breathed out, once he knew they were alone and that he’d settled his nerves. After all, Ian liked him, that’s why he wanted to kiss him. Shiloh liked him too, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be so bold yet, at least not in public, even if there wasn’t anyone around. He tried to smile, lifting his hands from the mud and shaking them off.

“We really are gross, I think I’m soaked right through to my underwear. Thanks a lot Ian,” he said, laughing a little. "At least my feet are still dry."

Shiloh shook his head, laughing softly as Ian brushed away his messy hair. As his thumb trailed to the corner of Shiloh’s mouth, the smile grew slightly.

“Stop apologizing already, it’s already done.”

He knew Ian had meant no harm by it, and it wasn’t something he couldn’t live with. Definitely not, it was, as he had admitted to Ian, it was just going to take some getting used to.

Ian pulled them both to their feet, and Shiloh straightened up, eager to not be sitting in mud anymore. He tried to brush himself off, but it was futile, like the blue goop, the dirt wasn’t going to come off so easily and he stared at the mucky mess that was his outfit; he was quickly running out of clean clothes. But a shower and at least dry clothes sounded great, and food even better.

Being carried, however, not so much.

“Like you could carry me," he laughed, waving a hand dismissively at Ian and stepping ahead of him towards the dorms.