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The evening has grown dark enough that Grian can barely tell his mossy cobble from his regular cobble. He can still feel the difference in his hands - the minute difference in weight familiar after several long days of building - so it’s barely a concern at this point, but it’s worth noting.
He places another layer of cobble down, careful to keep the veins of moss consistent as he goes. The oncoming night makes it a little more difficult to do this part, he realises, as he has to reach out and run his fingers over the surrounding parts of the build, feeling out the fuzz of moss where it creeps out from rough stone.
Etho, as he tends to do, takes Grian by surprise.
A pair of cold hands catch his neck and he starts in mixed shock and alarm and whips around. He’s met by Etho’s smug expression, the other man already starting to laugh at his responding disgruntled noise.
“What was that for?!” Grian scowls.
“I’m here to rescue you from yourself,” Etho replies, which is not at all an answer. He bows dramatically for effect, though when he rises again his eyebrows are twisted into concern. “You’ve been working on that thing for three days straight, Grian.”
“That’s not a reason for trying to freeze me to death!”
“I’m not that cold!”
Grian sniffs. “You felt that cold.”
With a shake of his head, Etho drops the light-hearted argument and holds a hand out.
“Either way, I’m taking you back home. You need rest.”
Grian debates, for half a minute, whether or not it’s worth trying to fight Etho on this too. Now that it’s been proposed, though, he can’t help but think of his nest, warm and soft and made warmer and softer still by Etho’s presence.
If he’ll stay, of course.
“Alright,” he says, taking Etho’s hand, “as long as you join me.”
Etho grins, visible through the mask. “Of course I will. I won’t leave a poor, sleepy omega alone in his time of need.”
As Grian squawks out an indignant response, Etho laughs and leads the way off the build and out into the open air, elytra opening up above them both as they fly down to Grian’s base.
*
The Witch Hut is a little colder and the nest here not nearly as big as he remembered. It’s honestly slightly embarrassing to show it to Etho at all, in all its three-blankets-and-one-sweater-vest glory.
“Wow,” Etho says immediately, eyebrows raised but the rest of his face carefully blank. “You’ve not been here in a while.”
“Yeah, well,” Grian replies. “I’ve been busy.”
Etho scans the room again, and then turns around and books it out of the door. Grian’s jaw drops. Despite his own self-doubt, he certainly hadn’t expected Etho to leave. Is the nest really that bad?
“What happened to not leaving a poor, sleepy omega alone?” he grumbles, before turning back to his nest and resigning himself to figuring out if he can make it comfortable enough to sleep in.
In retrospect, he thinks he made this nest as a temporary accommodation, something he won’t mind flopping down into when he’s too tired to even think. He curls himself up on top of two of the blankets and tugs the other on top of him, and the floor is too hard and the blankets are too thin and the sweater vest barely carries Mumbo’s scent anymore, but it’ll have to do. There’s no way he can summon enough strength in his limbs to leave now.
As his eyes finally start to flutter closed, he hears his door swing open again.
“Grian?” calls Etho, sounding concerned. “Oh, shoot. Did he leave?”
“I’m here,” Grian says, only half bothering to raise his voice. “Why’d you run off?”
Etho appears in the doorway, peering down at Grian from behind what seems to be a mountain of clothes. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No,” Grian deadpans, though his heartbeat picks up as he realises what’s happening.
“Sorry.” Etho shuffles over and drops the clothes on top of Grian, who yelps in response. “I picked up half of Tango’s nest from his starter base for you. Most of the scents are still fresh, and he’s not exactly using it.”
Grian can’t help the way he pounces on the pile once he’s free of it, a fresh burst of energy as he feels the familiar scents of his friends surrounding him. He’s so busy rearranging the shirts and the jumpers and the dramatic red capes that he barely hears Etho’s rambling description of how he really wouldn’t mind Tango finding out about the theft as long as he takes his revenge in a fun way, now that he's thinking about it.
“Okay!” Grian says, cutting right through Etho’s trailing sentences. He sits up in his nest, patting down the worst of the flaws in his nest before finally gesturing for Etho to join him. “No moving things. You’re here to cuddle me, got it?”
Etho chuckles but complies. He buries himself into the nest and wraps his arms around Grian, pulling him down with him.
“Hey!”
Grian can’t help the fond tone, though, and he turns over to bury his face in Etho’s neck and rub gently against where his scent glands would be if his mask was pulled down. He can feel Etho’s smile against his forehead. It’s worth so much more than Grian can ever describe.
When he’s satisfied, Grian lets himself relax properly, Etho’s arms cradling him all the way to the edge of sleep. As he’s closing his eyes, though, he’s sure he feels cool skin against his, a nose pressing against his neck and scenting him in return.
He kisses Etho’s collar, and drifts off to the sound of the purring that follows.