Chapter Text
Derek was acting weird.
It wasn’t something really hard to miss, not when Avery has been living with him for quite a while now, and their relationship has grown and settled pretty quickly over the years. Now, he was able to notice all the little quirks and icks his partner has, and even then, Avery never actually saw him acting like this before.
It started with the blankets.
If Avery was being honest, he never actually used the blankets. The times he did, during winter, his skin would be stuck to the fabrics the next day and it would take him a whole twenty minutes to peel himself off of them. So it wasn't really a problem that Der seemed to have acclaimed the blankets for himself, the problem started when Avery tried to change them to do the laundry.
—Der, honey block, they smell like poop.—he tried to reason with the fluffed and puffed bird man that was holding onto the piece of fabric like it was a lifeline.
—I don't care.—was his response. He gripped the blankets between his hands and he shuffled himself back to the bed, wrapping them on his side of the bed.—; They’re fine. You don't use them anyways.
Avery tried to convince him to change the blankets a couple more times after that, but every time without fail Derek would snarl and hiss at him, feathers puffed in warning. So he gave up on that. Smelly blankets wasn't the worst thing in the world.
But then the breakfast incident happened.
Avery was a good cook, or at least that's what he thought. Derek would always inhale anything he put in front of him, sometimes even complimenting him, which would make him fluster. But lately, Derek started to get really picky with the food, even straight up rejecting some of the things they would usually eat, and he started eating stuff he wouldn't touch with a ten feet pole before. Avery thought that maybe, his moulting season changed, so his behaviour was just temporarily prioritizing certain foods that were high in calories.
One of those days, Derek refused to eat the fruit salad he would usually devour, and instead insisted on Avery making fried fish and eggs. Avery complied, a little bit off put by the change of routine, and he prepared breakfast like always.
Derek ate all of it. Almost instantly.
So Avery made more, and Derek again, ate all of it.
Derek always preferred meat, but he hated fish with a passion, even then, Avery wasn't that weirded out yet. But he never saw him having such an appetite in the mornings.
—Uh, you hungry today, Der?—he asked, serving another round of fish and eggs.
—Yeah, I think.
He swallowed the fish whole. Bones and everything.
Where did his sensory issues go to?
Okay, you would think that maybe Avery was exaggerating. Being able to eat food you used to hate wasn't something to fret about, and the whole thing with the blankets was really such a minor and insignificant change.
Well, he also thought like that.
Until he finally figured it out.
Avery wasn't that smart, but Derek would reprimand him and say something like “your smarts just lie elsewhere” if he said it out loud. And he wasn't lying either, Avery wasn't book smart, but he was street smart. He was observant, and although impatient, he could always figure things out on his own if given enough time. He could pick out things other people wouldn't be able to notice, and he could always rely on his gut.
So today, his gut told that something was wrong with his boyfriend.
He could sense how tense his partner was all of a sudden, when they woke up, the harpy stayed bundled in the blankets, instead of waking up to start his usual morning routine, and grumbled slowly. Feathers usually fell from him when distressed, when it wasn't moulting season, and Avery was pretty sure it was too early for that. So when he woke up and saw the bed covered in feathers, he frowned. When he shook what looked like Derek under the blankets and received only a hiss, his frown deepened.
—Der?—he whispered tentatively, getting closer to the bundle, that's when he noticed how it was shaking.—; Oh Der, are you sick?
Another grunt was the only thing he could hear, and worry started to wrap around his chest.
When could Derek have gotten this sick when he didn't even leave the house lately? Maybe it was because of that? He knew during moulting he hated going outside, his skin too prickly and itchy and it just gets worse under the sun. But it didn't make sense for his dates to change like that, he really didn't pay attention in biology class, but he knew Derek would always moult during spring. It was autumn.
Okay, he really didn't have time to panic right now, not if Derek was sick. So he got up the bed and started planning on his head. Maybe it was a bird flu, Avery knew how nasty those were, and it wouldn't be the first time Derek got sick like that. So he made a mental list of the things he would need. Soup, meat, some lemon tea and the hot water bags. Healing potions and maybe even some golden apples. One never knew.
When he made an attempt to get up and shake the loose feathers off the bed, he stopped.
Huh.
He could hear Derek hissing at him, as his hands got closer to the feathers lying around him. His fingers didn't even get to brush the blankets, and the harpy made a warning noise.
He tried again, and got the same result.
Okay. That's a no, then.
The bundle moved, and he could see his eye peeking over, looking directly at him. Golden against black, tired and glossy.
Oh.
Avery wasn't that smart, but he would notice things if given enough time. So when understanding finally dawned on him, he felt like slapping himself raw.
—Der, honey block…—he was careful not to touch the feathers when he got close, he wrapped an arm around what he felt was his back, and still felt like it was shaking under the fabric.—; … Are you nesting?
Derek grumbled, he could feel his wings shaking and trying to move, so he gave him room.
—... Yes.—he whispered, and Avery was finally able to have a good look at him.
He was sweating, and his feathers looked all shoved and knotted, like he hadn't preened them in a long time. His forehead and cheeks were flushed and when Avery touched him he could feel how hot he was. He felt him shiver, but at the same time his face chased after the contact, nuzzling against his hand.
—Oh Der, why didn't you say anything?
His face got even hotter if that was possible, and he looked at Avery with something he recognized as shame, then he avoided his eyes completely. Was he embarrassed?
—I didn't- I thought- —he mumbled, looking everywhere but at his face.—; I didn't know how to tell you.
Avery stared at him, aghast. All the knowledge in the world, and he still worries about stuff like that.
—Honestly, I don't know either.—Avery said with a sheepish grin growing on his face. Derek looked at him then, and huffed.
—But you figured it out, of course.—he tried to look bothered, but Avery knew better. Then his lips curved at the corners, trying to contain himself but obviously failing.—; Took you long enough.
Avery laughed then, bright as sunlight, and he let himself fall completely on top of him, feeling the surprise on the other. Still, he felt feathered arms come and wrap around him, and both of them ended up tangled around each other. At some point, he could feel the harpy start to purr, and he giggled a little.
—... You’re not mad, then?—he heard him whisper, and Avery almost scolded himself. His boyfriend needed reassurance.
—Why would I be, honey block.—he separated himself from the crook of his neck, just enough to look at his face.—; I was worried you got sick and I didn't know what to do… But this- —one of his hands went down and he placed it over his belly, covered by his shirt.—; This is sick. You're amazing, Der.
He saw the relief flood his face then, and a shy smile began to form. In less than a moment he was again pressed against his neck, big wings coming and wrapping around them like a cocoon of warmth. He heard him chirp in content, and he melted in the embrace, a sigh of pleasure leaving his mouth.
Yeah, they were going to be fine.