#nesting fic

Hmmmm good question. I've thought about it, but I wasn't sure if I would since I feel kinda weird putting oneshots on Ao3 for some reason idk why 😭 But now that you mention it, I may.

The lovely @disgruntledkittenface @stylesthebrave and @bananaheathen all recently tagged me in this (thanks!)

This is from my nesting fic for the @omegaharryfest which I just started writing today! ✨

He adds the other items throughout the nest, purring to himself as it slowly but surely starts coming together.

A Nest for Two by homosociallyyours

1k, Harry/Louis, O/O, Gen

Harry and Louis are a pair of omegas who are moving into their first place together. They have a special room set aside for their nest, but it turns out that building a nest for two isn't always easy, even when you have the space for it. Fortunately they can figure it out together.

Jealousy, Jealousy

Explicit || No Archive Warnings Apply || 26K || Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson  || written as part of the @gayboficfest21

“This is your boyfriend?” the woman asked, slowly looking over Louis and then Harry.

“Yes,” Harry straightened up and wrapped his arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Is that a problem?”

This wasn’t the first time they have had someone question their relationship, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It didn’t make it any easier to deal with though. Harry could tell Louis was growing frustrated as well, not only by the change in his scent but by his body language as well. Louis crossed his arms over his chest and moved closer to Harry, who now had his arm wrapped tightly around Louis.

“No,” the woman shrugged. “I mean, how does that work, being two alphas? Wouldn’t you be better off with an omega?”

or the one where Harry has a lot of expectations for dating an alpha for the first time but his hormones causing conflict isn't one of them. Neither is the nest he builds and keeps a secret from his alphasexual boyfriend.

“I’d like to take you up on that offer.”

“Which one?” Crowley looked up from the box he was unpacking.

“The “I could fix your wings up for you” one.”

Crowley wanted to ask how drunk he’d been when he said that but his brain was stuck on Aziraphale wanted him to touch his wings.

“Yeahokaythallbefine”

It would not be fine.

“Bedroom then?”

Crowley had been sure Aziraphahle would change his mind about living together. He’d been so fussy about picking a cottage. Suddenly they were deciding what to bring from London. Then days of unpacking and now.... Aziraphale was in Crowley’s bedroom. There was only one bedroom. Everything was suddenly real.

Aziraphale had hung up his shirt by the time he got there. His braces hung loose at his sides where he’d shrugged out of them. It was terrifyingly domestic.

“It will be easier if you get behind me first. I don’t think we considered size of our wings when looking at bedrooms. No matter, we can adjust it.”

Crowley slithered onto the bed and put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. He felt so warm and solid. Suddenly there were wings to either side of him and the hair on Aziraphale’s shoulders was now feathery down. Crowley leaned forward to rest his cheek against Aziraphale’s back and he sighed beneath him. Crowley stayed that way for a moment before the anxiety took over and he set to cleaning Aziraphale’s wings.

Crowley stroked at the larger feathers to get them to lay flat. He tugged at one to get the barbs to mesh and it came off in his hand. He straightened a few more and then another came loose. And another. Crowley made a strangled noise at the growing pile of feathers on the bed.

“Are you alright?”

“I… they came out. I didn’t mean to... What’s happening?”

Aziraphale straightened up and twitched his wings out of his hands. “I should think you know!”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, why are they coming out!?!”

“Crowley… Anthony. You don’t actually know?”

“No???”

“Dearest, come here, around front, I am fine.”

Crowley had to crawl across Aziraphale’s lap to comply. The angel’s hands were firm and steady as they guided him to a standing position. He couldn’t bear to look at Aziraphale’s ragged wings.

Aziraphale kept hold of his hands “We picked out a place together. We spent the last week moving things from London and picking out where exactly each and every thing was going to go. Together.”

Crowley nodded, still clueless

“What did you think we were doing?”

“Getting… a house?”

“Dearheart, sometimes you outsmart yourself. Bring your wings out please.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me.”

Crowley did.

His wings brushed against Aziraphale’s and he felt as if everything would be alright. Aziraphale gently tugged on one of Crowley’s primaries and it came out.

“WHAT.”

“Anthony J. Crowley, we built a nest together. Of course we’re molting!”

“… I am such an idiot.”

“You’re my idiot now.”

I...

I’m putting this entire thing under a read-more because damn, anon, you went hard with this one

He’s not sure if this is just what Crowley’s like when he finally feels free, or if there’s something else entirely going on.

The apocalypse came, stalled, then retreated, and now it’s back to usual. Or usual adjacent.

They still have their rendezvous but they’re more... Light. Conspicuous. Happy.

It’s as if there had been a weight (there had been) weighing them down all this time. Something that’s suddenly come untethered from them (cut off from them). Something, that now lost, was not missed (incredibly not missed). Something thats absence seemed to let them float just a bit. Just an inch or so above the ground. Or maybe that was Aziraphale’s celestialness seeping out just a bit.

It was hard to keep it all in, is all. He’d never seen Crowley this relaxed before. He’s more prone to sharp barks of laughter, to mischief, to letting emotions exist instead of shoving them down messily in some cramped metaphorical closet, to not looking away when Aziraphale catches him looking.

And then there’s the food. The little gifts that Crowley presents so unassumingly, so nonchalantly if not for the way he forgets to breathe. If not for the way his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. The way his eyes are trained so fixedly on Aziraphale as he opens it. His head may be angled away, but Aziraphale has had 6000 years to learn all of Crowley’s tells and he knows when he’s looking for something. He’s just not sure what he’s searching for.

At 11 o’ clock on a Tuesday, Crowley had showed up looking so giddy with mischief, happy, and yet as nervous as ever at the same time. Only instead of a dreaded kind of anxiety, it was more of an anticipation kind of nervousness. He wove some words, Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure what words they were, distracted as he was by the sight of Crowley’s growing hair loose with a smattering of braids, and then suddenly he found himself quite caught out in the wilderness with Crowley.

Questions of why they were here were deflected, outright ignored, and often met with a grin as Crowley led them down a winding path to an overreaching cliff-side. It was beautiful, Crowley and the view both, but not an answer as to why Aziraphale had been drug out of his shop on a lovely afternoon to appreciate the scenery. (He did appreciate the scenery, it was different to see Crowley so unguarded. Different, and ever so lovely.)

Crowley rocked on his heels, forwards and back, mouth rambling a mile a minute as he tried to convince Aziraphale to close his eyes and just trust him. It was a familiar back and forth of casual bickering and teasing. But the sight of Crowley’s hands reaching out to tug Aziraphale before suddenly stopping short, faltering, as if Crowley was unsure of his welcome, gave him pause.

He can resist the cajoling, the tempting, but he cannot bear to see Crowley uncertain. Not when it comes to Aziraphale. Never let him be uncertain of his want of Crowley. Not now. Not when they are free to be as they wish, with whom they wish.

So he reaches back. And the smile he gets is so effervescent that he cannot even be truly annoyed it turns into a tug which sends him stumbling off balance and over the edge of the cliff-side. He can feel the precise moment that he looses his balance, the precise moment that falling off the edge of the cliff is the only possible outcome left, and he’d snap himself safe but Crowley is already diving after him with a whooping laugh. Night sky wings spreading and angling, ink streaking by racing him down, down, down, before Aziraphale spreads his own snowy wings.

It’s taunts and teasings, aerial stunts and close calls, absurd rolling, spiraling, corckscrewing acrobatics in the sky. It’s bright laughter, the clouds in his hair, the stars in Crowley’s eyes, and Aziraphale doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

He’s proven wrong a moment later. A moment later when Crowley, finally it seems finished with showing off, swoops up next to Aziraphale, reaches out and Aziraphale reaches back.

He’s breathless, a bit flushed in the face, his pristine black feathers mussed and ruffled by the wind, by his stunts, and absolutely shimmering in the starlight. Dark and rainbow tinted like an oil slick. Like a splash of a nebula far off. Like Crowley’s true self.

He’s grinning, biting back a half nervous laugh, his glasses gone missing from sometime between noon and night, and he’s breathless, breathless, breathless as he asks “Do I meet your standards?”

And Aziraphale’s heart makes a swooping flight of it’s own straight up into his throat.

The food- the aerial stunts - the - It was a Display! It was a Courtship Ritual! He’s Nesting. He’s Nesting. OH! He’s nesting for him.

Crowley’s crowding closer, their wings brushing feathertips as they beat to keep them aloft. “Make a home with me.” He presses closer yet, eyes bright in the starlight, face earnest and voice hushed and eager, “let’s make a place together, a nest, a home.”

And Aziraphale’s teary eyed and so so happy he feels like light itself. “Oh yes my dear, oh yes, let’s.”

“Together.”

Thank you so much! I hope you see this, nesting anon!

Send Me Your Pillow (The One That You Dream One) by flowercrownfemme / @lesbianiconharrystyles (GA, 3K)

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.