Chapter Text
Niki isn't beside James when he wakes up in the pitch dark at 3.14am. James lies quietly, listening intently for the delightful sounds of Niki being extremely ill in the bathroom (as he's been doing quite frequently over the past month, although it has been petering out recently), but he hears nothing. There is, however, a shuffling, clanking sound coming from downstairs.
James gets up, dragging the duvet with him and plods down the stairs. He's rubbing sleepily at his face as he enters the kitchen, but when he takes his hand away, he breaks into a grin.
Niki is illuminated in the light from the fridge, where he is standing in his dressing gown eating a jar of pickles.
James can't help but chuckle at the scandalised look on Niki's face, his hand frozen with his fingers in the jar, as if he's been caught doing something completely heinous instead of just eating bizarre things in the middle of the night. He goes over to kiss Niki's forehead and then sits down on a kitchen chair, wrapping the duvet around himself.
“Are you all right?” he asks, leaning his cheek on his palm and looking over at his mate. The way Niki's belly has begun to curve hypnotizes him (as it always does) and he lets his eyes linger there for a second before looking up at Niki's face.
“Mmf,” Niki tells him, finishing his mouthful of pickle and swallowing. “I was hungry.”
“So I see.” James notices an empty tub of ice cream on the counter top. “Pickles and ice cream. Interesting combination, Niki.”
“Piss off.” Niki says, putting the jar of pickles back in the fridge and the spoon in the sink. “There wasn't anything else I wanted to eat.”
He comes over to James in his bare feet, so close his knees are touching James's duvet-covered thigh. James extricates one hand from his cocoon and wraps it around Niki, pulling him against his side. During early pregnancy, the omega needs to be touched almost constantly by their Alpha. James read it in this book he bought the week after he found out.
“What would you have had, if you could have anything?” James asks, leaning over to nuzzle his head against Niki's belly. The bump isn't big yet, not at all – but it's convex and hard and unmistakeably there. Niki huffs softly and rests his weight on James.
“Peanut butter.” he says quietly.
“Would you eat that out of the jar, too?”
“Yes.”
James has to laugh. He can imagine Niki eating peanut butter with a spoon all too clearly.
“Tomorrow I'll go and get you some.”
He shuffles, letting the duvet fall so he can pull Niki into his lap, still half-asleep. One hand goes automatically to Niki's stomach and curls gently there, the other rubs at Niki's lower back, which he knows has been painful for the past few days (because Niki didn't stop complaining about it for the best part of two hours). Niki rests his chin atop James's head and sighs softly.
“Niki, your breath stinks of vinegar.”
Niki gives James a vicious poke in the side through the duvet and James holds him tighter.
“Did I say I minded?” he teases, “Let's go back to bed. You need to rest, you know...” He gives the bump a tiny, gentle squeeze.
“I'm not a delicate flower,” Niki says crossly. James has heard him say similar things so many times in the past month, so he rolls his eyes and nudges Niki up off his lap. He suspects Niki will be insisting this right up until the day. The day they become parents.
“Yes you are.” he says. “Now, go and clean your teeth.”