Work Text:
North's POV
He's not sure what drove him to leave the Workshop and travel to the Warren. It's rare for him to do so. Too much work, particularly with Christmas only two months away.
Yet as he sees Bunny curled upon himself on a hill, he's glad he followed the impulse.
It makes him ache to see his friend and lover—
No North, he chides himself, stopping that train of thought. As much as he wishes they were lovers, that is not what Bunny wants. The times they've been together have been simple biology, nothing more. Bunny's made that clear. No risking what they have—their mock-rival friendship—by pushing for more.
Striding up the hill, he quickly comes to his friend's side.
He frowns when he sees the state the Pooka is in up close. Usually sleek fur is matted and tangled, with dirt and debris mixed in. The normal shine is gone, faded and dull. Claws normally kept trimmed and neat, are jagged and cracked.
“Oh Bunny,” he murmurs, kneeling beside his friend and carefully scooping the Pooka up.
It takes him a while to walk to the burrow, making sure to keep his pace steady so as not to jar his precious burden.
When they reach the burrow, he's relieved to see the Easter Elf.
“Door please!” He tries to keep his booming voice down, to not startle Bunny. The way his friend flinches in his arms, he wasn't completely effective.
The pastel elf glances between them, eyes narrowing as he is grumbled at, and the elf carefully opens the doors. “Care Bunny, no hurt him, hurts enough.”
He nods solemnly, “Not hurting our friend,” he agrees. Once the door is opened, he carries the Pooka through the burrow to where he knows his friend's nest is. There, he sets his friend down, straightening to look around.
He's surprised as the Easter Elf—he should learn their name—comes wobbling in, pulling a tray with a bowl full of steaming water and rags.
He smiles broadly, “Thank you!” Kneeling beside the nest, he pulls it closer.
Nodding, the elf chatters at him, hurrying off. When they return, they're carrying something leather. He sets the cloth he was wetting down, and accepts the leather bundle, discovering that it's Bunny's grooming kit.
“Good idea, thank you!” he nods and beams at the elf, relieved to have everything he'll need to start with laid out around him.
Unfolding the kit, he lays it out, and sets to carefully and gently cleaning Bunny up. It's too quiet, so he starts singing old Russian, Turkish, and Cossack lullabies. He doesn't know when he last thought of them, let alone sung them. It seems to soothe his friend.
When was the last time anyone took care of Bunny? Has anyone tried? Has his friend let them? He's ashamed to admit to himself that he hasn't tried since he was last rebuffed. That was at least three hundred years ago. Probably even longer, now that he considers it.
The Easter Elf vanishes after warning him once more to be careful, and he doesn’t hear where they went. Not that it means much, the elves can be surprisingly quiet when they wish to be.
Eventually, he gets everything out of Bunny's fur, and begins to brush it straight, carefully grooming his friend. Through it, he keeps singing. When he's done, he takes the towel the elf left for him at some point, and uses it to gently dry and fluff Bunny's fur.
“I got,” the elf mutters, reappearing at his elbow, to grab the tray and take it out of the room. “Stay.”
He nods at the elf, ignoring the annoyance of being given an order by them. After all, they're right, he should stay. Rising from where he's kneeling, he removes his outer coat, takes off his saber and belt, and removes his boots. They're folded and set aside, out of the way. Folding his sleeves up, he stretches.
He then settles in the nest, though closer to the edge so as not to crowd his friend.
That doesn’t last long, as Bunny rolls towards him when he strokes a hand down the Pooka’s back. He smiles faintly, continuing to stroke the soft fur, and returns to singing softly.
He's uncertain how long they're like that, drifting into drowsiness as they stay there. Blinking, he realizes that Bunny's head is now resting on his chest, long limbs wrapped firmly around him.
This is nice.
He's not happy with how he found his friend, but is relieved that he's at least somewhat of a comfort. Honestly, they both need to take breaks more often.
“North?” Bunny's sleepy voice is soft and confused.
“Hello Bunny,” he murmurs, brushing his hand down a fluffy cheek, “feeling better?”
“I…” he trails off, nose wrinkling, eyes slitting open. “How'd we get in my nest? Why?”
The confusion is heartbreaking, as if his friend can't understand anyone wanting to be there with him.
“I brought us. Easter Elf opened the door and brought your grooming supplies to me. I cleaned your fur as carefully as I could.” He nods firmly, meeting green eyes.
“Why?” There's so much emotion in that one question that his heart aches for the Pooka.
“Why not?” he shrugs, grinning. “Fur much better not covered in dirt and twigs.” He'd swear the Pooka is blushing, the insides of his ears seem darker, as does his nose. Why would he blush?
Rolling away, Bunny sits up, looking away, “Thanks mate.”
“Do you want to talk about why you were like that?” he asks, stretching and twisting a bit from side to side.
Long ears flatten as green eyes close, huffing out, “Not really.”
He nods, climbing out of the nest, and stretching more. “Breakfast! I will see what there is!”
He's gone before Bunny can answer, grabbing his things but not putting them on. Instead, he heads to the kitchen, where he finds the Easter Elf already making pancakes full of fruit.
Dropping his things in the dining room, he joins them. “Thank you,” He doesn’t try to contain the booming of his voice now that his friend is awake. That startles them, and he reaches out to make sure that they don’t fall, asking, “What's your name?”
The pastel-colored elf blinks at him. “Magpie.”
That's a fitting elf name, particularly for the Easter Elf. “Good to meet you!” He beams at the little being. “Now we finish breakfast!”
While it's weird working with one of the elves, they are good cooks, and this is more the elf's home than his. By the time Bunny joins them, they’ve got a large pile of pancakes, a fruit salad, and fresh whip laid out, along with an entire carafe of orange juice he squeezed.
“Perfect timing! We were just finishing.” He's happy to see his friend up.
“I see that,” Bunny hums as he gingerly sits down.
Magpie makes a small plate for themselves and vanishes.
They don't talk as they eat their breakfast, though he smiles at the hums of pleasure that escape the Pooka’s control. When they're done, he cleans up before his friend can even move, using a little of the home magic he rarely has cause to use.
“Why'd you give me space?” Bunny demands, sitting back and meeting his gaze directly.
Making sure not to break eye contact, he braces his arms on the table. “I do understand pushing is not always the way. Took a long time, but I did learn eventually.”
It's not something he likes admitting that he can be wrong or too pushy. Jack has forced him to consider it, however, even more so since becoming friends with the Boogieman. Seeing them, watching them together, has forced him to consider the past in a new light.
Ducking his head, Bunny mutters, “I dealt with a heat this year, rather than a rut.”
He frowns, head tilting, as he tries to understand. It's part of his nature, isn't it? Some years he has a rut, some years a heat, an effect of being a true shifter, and the Avatar of Spring. Like animals in nature, he goes through something of a breeding season. It happens every spring and autumn, almost like clockwork. He's never asked how his friend knows which he will have, as he has always determined that it is probably too personal.
“Wasn't expecting it.” The Pooka sighs, ears tucking back, and definitely blushes.
An awkward, heavy silence falls between them. He absolutely doesn't like it. Not one bit.
“Bunny,” he starts, gentling his tone as best he can. “Aster, if you ever wish company…” he trails off, not sure how to finish the offer. They've shared a few ruts together, years earlier. Heats can’t be too much different. It wouldn't bother him any, of that he's certain of that. Even if he did need to use his magic or make some potions to keep up.
His friend goes tense, refusing to look at him.
Reaching over, he runs his fingers through the soft fur on his friend's cheek and around to the back of his neck. Hopefully it's at least somewhat soothing.
“I would take care of you, Aster, however you need, you want.” He cups the Pooka's face, encouraging the older spirit to look at him. “I simply want you to be happy.”
Bunny's breath catches when their eyes meet, spring green eyes darting all over his face. “Nicholas,” It's a broken whisper.
He rises carefully and moves around the table to kneel in front of his friend. “You are important to me.”
“Nicholas,” Bunny’s voice is barely there, a whisper of raw need and emotion.
Now is not the right time to push, but soon. Yes, first he needs to plan how to do this. His belly is warning him to handle the Pooka with care or risk losing everything between them.