When your fiancé acts like a pregnant person when you are pretty sure he can't be, because you are the bottom

The sunlight poured through the small window, bathing the cabin in soft morning light. David sat up abruptly, stretching with a satisfied groan as he turned to look at Liam, still wrapped up in the blankets like a cocoon.

"Get up," David said with a grin that could only mean one thing: mischief. "We're going skiing."

Liam blinked up at him, disoriented. His voice was groggy as he asked, "Why are you like this?"

David didn't answer, already rummaging through the cabin for... what? Ski gear? Liam didn't even think they had anything remotely resembling skis.

Liam sat up fully now, rubbing his eyes. He stared at David like he'd just grown an extra head. "You've officially lost it."

After a moment spent trying to understand what is happening, the blond hold his head in exasperation.

"David," Liam called again, his tone sharper this time. "It's not snowing."

That stopped David in his tracks. He turned slowly, frowning as if Liam had just pointed out some grave betrayal of the natural order. "What do you mean it's not snowing?"

"I mean," Liam said, gesturing vaguely toward the window, "it's spring. No snow. No skiing."

David stood there, frozen like someone had slapped him. For a long, heavy moment, he just stared out the window, his expression shifting from confusion to realization, then to something darker.

He sat back down, crossed his arms, and leaned into his brooding like a storm cloud settling over the room. Liam, still watching him from the couch, tilted his head in curiosity.

"Okay, what is this?" Liam asked, his tone half-amused. "Why are you sulking? You don't do sulking. That's for—"

"—whiny bitches, I know," David snapped, glaring at nothing in particular.

That made Liam chuckle. He sat up, shaking off the remnants of sleep as he pulled the blanket around himself. "You realize this is what sulking looks like, right? Kinda hypocritical, if you ask me."

David shot him a sharp look but didn't respond, his jaw tight.

It wasn't like him, Liam mused, to get worked up over something so trivial. David didn't let things get to him; he bulldozed through them. Whatever this was, it was rare enough to be fascinating.

But what made it even more interesting was the way David shifted gears without warning. After a few minutes of quiet brooding, he abruptly stood and strode toward the kitchen.

"You're cold," David said matter-of-factly as he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and tossed it over Liam's shoulders.

Liam blinked, looking down at the blanket now draped over him. "I'm not cold, actually."

"Well, now you're warmer," David said, as if that explained everything.

It didn't stop there. David started bustling around the cabin, making tea, pulling out a small plate of snacks, even stoking the fire to make the room unnecessarily cozy. He never once addressed his own foul mood, instead focusing entirely on Liam.

By the time Liam realized what was happening, David was standing over him, holding out a steaming mug of tea.

"You're ridiculous," Liam said, grinning as he took the mug.

David shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. "Drink it. You look tired."

Liam sipped the tea, watching David settle back into his chair. It was clear now—David had redirected all his frustration into fussing over Liam. It was his way of coping, of smoothing out the edges of his mood without ever admitting he'd had one in the first place.

And Liam, for all his teasing, didn't mind one bit. "You know," he said, setting the mug down, "if this is what happens when you get moody, I might have to encourage it more often."

David's smirk was slow and sharp. "Don't push it, Blondie."

Liam laughed, leaning back into the blanket and savoring the warmth of the tea. "Sure, sure. But next time you wake up with a wild idea, maybe check the weather first?"

David chuckled low, his eyes softening as he glanced at Liam. "Noted. Now shut up and drink your tea."

For the rest of the day, David hovered in little ways—bringing Liam tea, tossing a blanket over him when he wasn't looking, even pulling out a deck of cards for a game neither of them particularly liked.

Liam noticed it all, of course. It was David's way of apologizing, even if he'd never say it out loud. And, as far as Liam was concerned, it was more than enough.

Except it wasn't, because the man continued to act like that for the rest of the week, it unerved the blond so much that, he asked about it.

"Dave, dear," he began, his tone sweet but with an edge of exasperation, "are you pregnant?"

David froze mid-step, turning to look at him like he'd grown a second head. "Liam, no."

"Ah, okay. It's just that—"

"I am moody, not pregnant," David snapped, his voice clipped.

Liam hummed, with a thoughtful look as he sipped his tea. "Or maybe you want to—"

"Let's go kill someone," David interrupted, throwing his hands up as he paced to the window. "I'm on edge."

The blond looked at him one moment before beaming at him, at that, David asked himself, why he ever doubted that, the man wouldn't want to go back to their favorite activity.