Thistle

He's been counting how many times the crimson brindle's chest has risen and fallen. There are several other things Thistle could have been paying attention to; the warmth of the brindle's pelt, the way he tenses upon a single touch, the way his fur bristles with the wind. He could notice all of those things as he curled up closer to him. But Thistle has been paying attention to the movement in the latter's chest.
"Every time we do this, we're playing with fire." The brindle mentions, and Thistle loses count.
"I'm aware of that, Russet." Thistle states plainly, shifting to stare at his blending brown eyes. It was at which point, Russet inhaled.
"Tansy, Dandelion, Feverfew, Mullein; stronger herbs.." He closes his eyes and inhales again. "Lavender?"
"Are you-"
"Lavender. Definitely Lavender." Russet concludes, his lips quirked up slightly.
"Did you just name all of the herbs I've used today?" Thistle is taken aback, he's been working with herbs for ages and has never been able to identify them all at once.
"Not all, just some." Russet inhales. "There's a note of incense, but of what type?"
"Sage, rosemary, and thyme." Thistle questions his statement.
"You're the expert." Russet mutters, closing his eyes as he talks. A shared moment of silence begins.
Thistle shifts his position again. "How could you tell what I've used today so easily? You've piqued my curiosity, now I have to know."
"Common sense," Russet begins. "It's common sense for a scout to be observant with all five senses. I've recalled, memorized, analyzed and used many of these observations to my advantage." He inhales once more. "Not to mention I love lavender." He then locks eyes with Thistle. "I suppose it's fitting."
"You suppose?" Thistle scoffs. "I thought scouts we're allowed to make guesses."
"Scouts make educated guesses and are quite precise about them; my guess was indeed educated." Russet breaths. "With our historic symbol of lavenders as my witness."
"Then consider me charmed."
***
"If you really must know," The herbalist starts, out of breath. "I was going to say-"
"I love you."
"I'm sorry?"
"That's what you were going to say." Russet responds indifferently. "I love you too."
Thistle's ears perk up at that statement.