((uhhhh very brief mention of sex by virtue of acknowledging that a character isn’t interested in it??))

Rotgut swung open the door to the shelter they had claimed just outside the city walls. It had once been a boarding station for patrol guards, but King Scorpius’s minions didn’t bother monitoring the city’s outskirts anymore. Folks could smuggle in pretty much anything they wanted with the lack of screening at the gates, but that just gave the guards more excuses to conduct surprise searches whenever they got bored. The station had been abandoned for some time.

She stepped inside, the cold air starkly contrasting the warm spring day outside, and lumbered down the too-narrow hall that led to their room. It was eerily quiet, which was odd seeing as Scrapjack should’ve been somewhere in the station. She had mentioned working on a project before Rotgut left for supplies. Usually her “projects” involved a lot of noise and at least one explosion every thirty minutes, but now all the yakicorn could hear was a distant shuffling. No maniacal laughter, no sizzling of fur, feathers, or fuses, no crashes as her partner threw tools around her workshop. That was strange.

When she passed their sleeping quarters, intent on checking on the former kitchen that had been converted to Jack’s workshop, a flash of motion caught her eye. She took a few steps back and peered into the room. The noise was coming from inside, she realized, not from the workshop, and the source of it was immediately obvious. Scrapjack had pushed their mattress onto the floor and wedged it into the corner of the room, and she was now throwing every soft object she could reach onto it and arranging them meticulously in a circle.

Rot’s brain flashed in recognition and she couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto her face. She’d nearly forgotten about this. Some hippogriffs and griffons had increased desired to mate during the springtime, but given that Scrapjack had never been interested in that particular activity, her instincts seemed to settle on the next most productive thing: nesting. Rotgut had seen it countless times over the course of their relationship. Jack would get cuddlier at night and sleepier in the mornings. The feathers on her chest would get patchy, some falling out and others puffing up as her body prepared to make a brood patch for nonexistent eggs. She would spend an entire day in something of a fugue state, working tirelessly on a “nest”—usually a pile of blankets and pillows—that was big enough to accommodate herself and her gigantic partner. Rot had insisted at first that she didn’t need to be included in the nest-making process, but Scrapjack was not to be deterred. The whole reason she was making the nest was to keep the two of them safe, comfortable, and warm! Of course Rottie would be part of it! The whole thing was strange the first few times around, but now the yakicorn found it… a little heartwarming, actually. She was important enough to Jack that she went out of her way to care for her, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary.

“That time of year again, da?”

Scrapjack perked up, feathers fluffing as she heard Rotgut’s voice. “Rottie!” She called. She dashed over and eagerly took one of her enormous hooves.

“C’mere, c’mere! Gotta make sure it’s big enough for ya.”

Rotgut let the mare usher her towards the “nest” and placed a kiss to her forehead as she did so. At least, she aimed for her forehead. Her lips pretty much covered half of Jack’s face.

“It looks good to me,” she chuckled.

“’S not done yet, though. Needs a few more adjustments. Sit!” Scrapjack patted the center of the blanket nest.

Rotgut did so, tucking her legs under her huge belly, and Scrapjack went to work tucking in the sides of the nest and perfecting its shape. The nest was almost perfectly fitted to her body; the pillows hugged her sides and gave her just enough space to shift onto her side if she so desired. It had always been hard to find a bed that didn’t reduce to nothing when she rested her weight on it, but Jack had piled up enough padding that she was able to lie comfortably. It was soft and… surprisingly cool, she realized.

“Did you use a potion to keep it cold?” she asked Scrapjack, who was now settling in between the yakicorn’s forelegs and gently nuzzling her fuzzy chest, occasionally nipping at her fur. With a beak, that was as close to kissing as she could get.

“Nope! Cooling pad underneath the mattress pad. Not exactly ‘conventional’ for a nest, but I didn’t wantcha ta get too hot.”

Rotgut smiled. “Umnyye”

Scrapjack beamed back at her. “You know it! Oh—and check this out,” she propped herself up, plunged a claw into the depths of the pile, and felt around for a moment before producing a box of lichen biscuits. “Yer favorite! Swiped ‘em from a shop uptown. Shoulda seen the look on the owner’s face!” She let out a shrill series of chuckles that probably would’ve sounded manic to any outside ears.

Jack got settled again and then looked up at her partner with wide, hopeful eyes. “Well, whaddya think?”

Rotgut pulled her in closer and gave her a gentle tap with her front most horn.

“It’s perfect.”