Work Text:
It was a heavy kind of day.
Snow drifted softly outside of the window, individual flakes twirling in puffs that tumbled over each other to bump against the panes. Frost stuck to the corners. Phil pressed the tips of his fingers to the cold glass, talons scraping against the enchantments carved into the window frame to keep the warmth in and the cold out. The lapis needed to be refreshed, lines smudging with the recent cold snaps.
Their meager summer was over. They were heading back into the long cold and dark of winter.
There was so much to do in preparation. The commune needed to be stocked, enchantments updated, a trip made to the nearby village for supplies the commune couldn’t make itself.
Phil was already exhausted.
His body protested sitting up, the process of going from horizontal to half vertical a slog of aching joints and sharp pains as his wings settled into place. The left one always sat a little crooked these days, the feathers neatly groomed but the structure permanently altered.
He stared morosely at the floor, a monumental half scoot away. The soft blankets and warm embrace of the nest beckoned.
A dog barked somewhere outside, followed by the low rumble of a contented polar bear. Phil heaved a sigh and dragged his useless sack of a body out of bed.
The trunk which held his clothes mocked him. They weren’t expecting guests, Phil reasoned, frowning at the effort of ties and undergarments.
He had to go outside, and it was too cold to go out without proper gear. He could put off getting dressed for another few ticks, food first.
Phil descended the ladder to the ground floor.
Techno was already up and working, had been for a while based on the state of the fire in the grate. It was smoldering, a few bright coals in a bed of white ash. Phil grumbled, he’d slept too late.
The fire poker felt big in his hands, weighty enough that he needed both to lift it and rustle the ashes. He got the coals into an acceptable pile, which shouldn’t have felt like so much of an accomplishment. Wood next, a couple pieces of kindling to build the blaze back up. The motions were well worn, but every scrap of bark he fed into the fire felt new and terrible. The coals caught and crackled. He’d come down here for something. Phil frowned, trying to dredge up a modicum of focus. There was the fire, which still needed a log. He turned back to the wood pile. The fire poker was still sticking out of the ashes. Phil picked it up. It was hot, heat soaked metal biting into his palms.
“Fuck.” Phil dropped the poker. He was still in his sleep clothes. The dog pack picked up on something in the distance and began baying, his crows following suit in a cawing, warbling mess. Everything felt too big, too fast and Phil suddenly felt very, very small.
He croaked, keened, told himself to shut up. There was work to do, he didn’t have time to be small and fragile. He needed to finish the fire, to feed himself, to get dressed and go out into the snow and do his half of the work so Techno wasn’t doing everything by himself and-
Phil sank down next to the wall and warbled, a small one two staccato of cooing in a half hearted attempt at a self soothe. It didn’t help. He wrapped his arms around his head and willed himself to get bigger.
Something landed on his foot. A beak nudged up against his knee and then talons pricked into his shin. One of his crows croaked. He must have left a window cracked. No wonder he was so cold. He had to fix that too, before Techno got back, he didn’t deserve to come home to a cold, empty house.
The fire, Phil needed to fix the fire.
The bird cawed, pecking at his hair and Phil squeaked out an embarrassing whimper. He grasped towards the bird, fingers brushing up against soft feathers before it took off with a squawk and the rustle of wings. He was scaring off his own birds now. He was the bird guy and they didn’t even want to be around him.
He needed to get up.
The fire needed fixing.
He needed to get up.
To get dressed.
To do anything.
He needed- the door opened with a bang and a whoosh of cold air. The crow was back, cawing up a storm and accompanied by the sound of heavy hooves against the thick wood of the doorframe.
“I hear you, I hear you. What’s the matter? Did Phil get stuck in the basement again? He likes it down there. That’s his home.”
The crow whistled. Phil tried to project his thoughts at it. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Techno’s movements were deliberate, the telegraphed sound of his cloak being hung up and snow being knocked from his forelock before the door swung shut. He fiddled with one of the windows and the pane slid shut with a creak. They’d have to oil that; Phil flinched. A heavy bulk settled in front of him, their knees bumping as Techno squatted.
“Hey, Phil. You alright?”
Phil’s talons pricked into his scalp, salt stung his eyes as he fought back the urge to cry. He was fine. He had to be fine, if he could just make himself be fine then Techno wouldn’t be wasting his time checking on Phil.
“Tec-“ Phil whimpered, the words were too large and didn’t fit right in his mouth. He really just wanted to cry.
“I’m here, Phil. Brian - I think it’s Brian - came to get me.”
“Brian’s got the little-“ Phil waved a hand and felt whatever bit of himself he was clutching onto slipped. He sniffled, and a sob wormed its way out of his chest.
“Yeah, he’s got the copper band, I know.” Techno bumped his hand and Phil latched onto it, the familiar shape of rough hooves soothing the raw and mewling thing inside of him. He warbled. “Alright, little bird, I’m here.”
Phil slumped forward and crashed head first into Techno’s chest. He was broad and warm and the safest place Phil had ever found was curled up in his arms. Techno exhaled, a hefty grunt and Phil found himself pulled forward until his nose bumped up against a well muscled shoulder. Techno smelled like fur and pine. He’d been out with the dogs. Phil mushed his face into the soft wool of a sweater he’d made him and keened.
“Too big?” Techno asked, always so gentle despite his massive size. Phil warbled. Talking still felt far away and fuzzy, but he felt small here in the soft way that meant Techno was going to take care of him. The heaviness a weight he couldn’t shake. “That’s fine, Phil. Come on.”
Phil chirped a protest, but he wasn’t forced back into being big - instead he was pulled off the floor by a gentle pair of hooves. Techno held onto his talon and nudged him over to a sturdy chair with a well worn curation. Phil clambered into it, wings adjusting to cradle him and limbs gangly. Techno waited till he was settled before tucking a quilt over him.
“Can you sit there for a few ticks, little bird? I’ll be right back.” Techno smoothed a few of the feathers on the side of Phil’s face. Phil nodded.
Techno moved through the house with a clean efficiency, stoking the fire until it was roaring and the chill in the air dissipated. He reappeared with a tin of salve and a rag damp with snow. Phil whistled, and Techno smiled.
“Let me see, come on little bird.”
Phil slowly held out his smarting palm and Techno snuffled with concern. It wasn’t a bad burn, a distant part of Phil’s mind supplied, but it hurt and the hurt was all consuming. Techno cradled his wrist and dabbed on the magma cream and netherwart mixture that pulled the heat from the injury. Phil whistled again, softer.
“I know, but it heals faster if you treat it.”
Phil clacked his beak and Techno capped the salve, pressing a kiss to his uninjured talons and pushing back to his feet. He filled their battered copper kettle and set it in the coals then disappeared upstairs, reappearing with a bundle of soft things. Phil cooed, sticking one of his uninjured talons in the side of his mouth and sucking over the sharp point. Techno glanced at him, ears swiveling and snout turning up over one tusk.
“Let’s get you in something a little less dusty.” Techno pulled Phil from his comfy bundle of blankets which he protested very nobly - but then Techno was sliding him out of his dirty nightgown and helping him shrug his arms into a new robe and tying it on either side, in the spot he preferred so it hung loose under his wings. “Better?”
Phil rustled his wings and begrudgingly had to admit that Techno maybe knew what he was doing. But he wanted to go back under the blanket now. Techno waited until Phil was adjusted and then tucked the quilt around him. He pulled a familiar black bundle - a ragdoll crow Phil had stitched together when they were snowed in. It usually lived on the mantle upstairs, company for whichever crows managed to worm their way into the attic. Techno tucked it into the quilt and Phil wrapped his talons around it, running the soft wool of the wings between his talons.
Phil drifted while Techno moved around between the fire and the narrow galley kitchen. He watched snow drift down outside of the window, the sky clouding over as it grew darker and darker. It was going to storm. He couldn’t remember if they still had cocoa beans, or if their cow had gotten milked. Techno might need to go back out, and the thought made his chest ache. He rubbed his cheek into the quilt and whistled a few notes. Techno rumbled back, music in his mother tongue. Phil trilled along, following the guttural rhythm. Brian cackled from the kitchen, begging for snacks and Phil shushed him. The crow ignored him. Techno was weak to cute animals and the self satisfied croak Brian let out meant he was getting his way.
“You spoil them,” Phil grumbled when Techno appeared in his periphery.
“I’m weak, Phil.” Techno bemoaned, nudging a steaming cup into his free hand. Phil wrapped his talons around it and inhaled - cocoa, with milk and a little blaze spice. “They look at me with their beady bird eyes and I have to give them cake snacks.”
“You’re being too nice to me.” Phil adjusted, tucking his stuffed crow into his lap as a plate with a slice of cake was nestled next to the mug. Techno settled onto the floor after a moment with his own plate and mug. His was blue, a lopsided thing Phil had insisted wasn’t worth keeping but Techno loved it - claimed the squashed side made drinking with a snout easier. Phil wasn’t sure he believed him, but Techno refused to let him mold a better one.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, nestling. I’m being the normal amount of nice.” Techno nibbled at the cake, a seeded thing with a crust of sugar on the top. A few crumbs stuck in the bristles on his nose. Phil’s wings ruffled, the feathers on his ears fluffing with indignation. He wasn’t that little. He was a big bird would could take care of himself. He blew on the cocoa and took a sip, warm and thick and coating his tongue with the spiced edge only Techno ever managed to achieve. “You don’t have to be big right now if you don’t want; I’ve got you.”
Phil picked at the cake, crumbling bits of it between his talons before placing tiny bits of sugar and caraway into his mouth. He felt better; less anxious and scattered. He could probably stop being so small and actually do something useful. But Techno’s head was a comfortable weight against his knee and he was warm and the quilt was soft. He put another morsel of sweetness in his mouth and mushed it around with his tongue, appreciating the sweet and mildly bitter flavor. It went well with the earthy richness of the cocoa.
"You're sure? We have things to do."
"They'll get done; the snow's coming in anyway, not much else happening today but mending and brushing out the foxes."
Phil liked the foxes, they were fluffy and Techno had worked with them enough that they'd curl up in his lap and doze. Sometimes they'd even accept a sweetberry or two from Phil if they were feeling particularly brave. He clacked his beak a few times, testing the idea before nodding, once. He could be little, and nothing bad would happen because Techno was here, and he had Brian, and his stuffed crow who he realized didn't have a name. They should fix that. He jostled the dishes in his lap to give its oblong beak a pat.
"Thanks, tiercel, for taking care of me." Phil rubbed his cheek against the quilt, relishing in the feeling of stitching against his down and the stubbly edges of his beard. "We have to name my bird."
Techno sipped his cocoa, humming thoughtfully.
"Brian Two." He suggested after a moment. Phil squawked, indignant.
"Tiercel!" The word lilted up at the end, going squeaky as Phil settled into the comfort of being small. Techno didn't mind that he got like this, little and stumbling, where the world felt too big and he was learning everything he was supposed to know over again from scratch. Techno laughed, a rumbling, familiar sound that made Phil's feathers fluff in recognition. He was safe in a nest, fed and with a tasty drink and Techno was here and taking care of him.
"I'm sorry, little bird. You're just too cute all fluffed up like that." Techno leaned his head back so he could look up at Phil, pale eyes crinkling at the edges. Phil reached out a tentative hand and rubbed one of his ears between his talons, soft and a little fuzzy. "What about Eggbert?"
Phil wrinkled his nose and thought about it, squinting at the plush crow. It seemed like a very noble creature, with its button eyes and overstuffed head. He nodded.
"Egg Bert," he patted the crow, "I like it."
Phil took another small sip of his cocoa and rubbed at Techno's ears and snuggled a little deeper into his chair. The snow picked up, falling thick and heavy, wind rattling the window panes, but he was safe here and that was the only place he wanted to be.