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Nothing smelled quite right.
Paint and freshly-cut wood, the overwhelming scent of lemon cleaner invaded Phatsa’s senses as he stood in the bedroom. Boxes lay in piles everywhere, the stale scent of cardboard wrinkling his nose as he tried to rub it away. Even the furniture, the only bits of the apartment that had been set up, smelled too clean, too sterile.
Bringing a hand to the barely noticeable bump at his stomach, he sighed. The anxiety he felt fluttering there should have come from excitement, at this new beginning after everything he and Nakhun had been through. A new apartment, a fresh start away from Nakhun’s family, in a home of their own as their future truly began. But it still wasn’t right.
Nakhun had left him half an hour ago, to pick up some food before they started to unpack, but Phatsa didn’t think he could wait. His whole body twinged with uneasiness at every new smell, every moment he waited to tear open a box and bury his nose in Nakhun’s sweaters and breathe in something to comfort him.
It didn’t feel like home, and Phatsa shouldn’t have expected it to. Not yet. They’d barely moved in, barely signed the papers. The sheets on the bed were too fresh, smelled of plastic packaging—nothing like the ones Phatsa had grown so used to sleeping in at Nakhun’s family home. Those, though always imbued with the faint scent of flowery laundry detergent, smelled of Nakhun, and those were the only thing that had made Phatsa feel safe.
He blamed the baby growing inside him for how much sharper his senses were, that he felt so uneasy at the unfamiliar smells of this beautiful apartment, that he was so distracted from what should have been a happy day. He should have been marveling at the view out the window, at the towering city, the lush, green parks in the distance. He should have been eager to try out the new appliances in the kitchen, to relax in the large, open living room. To lie on the floor in Nakhun’s arms without any furniture at all and feel at home.
Moving to the bed, Phatsa wrinkled his nose. There was no way he’d be able to sleep here, not like this.
If Nakhun was there, he would have stopped Phatsa from ripping open one of the boxes, chided him on how he handled the box cutters, complained he was going to hurt himself. But Nakhun wasn’t there and Phatsa couldn’t stand this smell anymore.
A familiar scent, warm and soft, wafted from the box and Phatsa breathed in deeply, letting it wash over him, calming the anxious fluttering in his chest. Mandarin and clove. Soothing and sweet, warming and comforting, a little bit of a bite. Just like Nakhun.
Phatsa buried his face in the jacket he pulled out, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, hoping to ease his discomfort. The scent enveloped him, wrapped around him like a tight hug as he clutched the material. It wasn’t quite the same as being in Nakhun’s arms, but it would have to do for now.
He didn’t know how many pieces of Nakhun’s clothing he pulled from boxes, scattering them over the bed, trying to rub the scent into the sheets, but it didn’t seem to work. He could still smell the chemicals clinging to the mattress. The walls were too bare, the room too empty. Stark and white and lonely. How was he supposed to live in a place like this?
He would have blamed the nausea he felt on the baby as he pressed a hand to his stomach, rubbing over the bump, chewing on his bottom lip as he looked around at the mess he’d made. He was only a few months along—they had plenty of time to get ready, Nakhun had said when Phatsa had pointed out they still lived at his family’s home. That was why they had bought this place, wasn’t it? So they would have somewhere of their own to start their family? So why didn’t it feel right?
Bunching up the clothes, Phatsa’s attempts at covering up the unpleasant scents of the new apartment didn’t seem to do anything.
The room was a total mess by the time Phatsa gave up, lying spread-eagle in the middle of the bed, surrounded by too-fluffy, brand new pillows that smelled like unfamiliar detergents, Nakhun’s suits crumpled into piles because Phatsa didn’t care if they got wrinkled so long as they made him feel better about this big, strange apartment they now lived in.
His ears perked up at the distant sound of a keycard, the lock sliding open, Nakhun’s soft footfalls that Phatsa had long grown to recognize. He didn’t rise from the bed, though, grumpy as he crossed his arms and waited.
“Phat?”
Phatsa heard Nakhun before he saw him at the door. He caught the faint odor of food, but Nakhun must have left it in the kitchen because he carried nothing as his eyes swept the room.
Phatsa had torn open multiple boxes in his attempt to make the room more homey, not that it had done him much good considering he still felt queasy as he frowned at Nakhun in the doorway. This was all his fault, after all. If he’d just been able to control himself the first time they’d met, none of this would have ever happened. The thought came fast, flitting to his brain as it often had the last six months, but it was always replaced just as quickly with an ache for Nakhun to be near him even if he was annoyed or angry or unhappy.
“Did some unpacking?” Nakhun asked, dry, as if it wasn’t obvious given the amount of clothes strewn about the room. Unpacking wasn’t how Phatsa would have put it either, but he was too annoyed to correct him. No matter what he did, this room just felt off and he couldn’t fix it. How was he supposed to live like this?
Tossing Nakhun a look, Phatsa set his hands over his stomach, pretending he could feel the baby moving even if it was only the size of a plum. He supposed that bit was at least partially his fault too. Hadn’t he been the one to climb on top of Nakhun three months ago, to lick along his ear as Nakhun fought back a shudder, to ask why he was bothering with a condom when he could knot him right there?
Nakhun had fucked him until he was practically sobbing that night, clinging to his bare shoulders for dear life, leaving scratches and teeth marks all down his back, wanting more more more. It hadn’t even been a heat, just Phatsa wanting all he could get now that he finally understood his feelings, understood Nakhun’s.
The positive test shouldn’t have come as a surprise after that, not after the hours they had spent locked together, just breathing each other in—gentle kisses in the afterglow, soft nuzzling into Nakhun’s neck, burying his face in his chest and falling asleep with Nakhun still inside him.
“I don’t like this,” was all Phatsa answered to Nakhun’s question, tossing away one of the shirts that didn’t seem to be making a bit of difference.
Nakhun raised an eyebrow, in that skeptical way he did when he thought Phatsa was being dramatic. “The apartment? Or me leaving you for half an hour to make sure you don’t starve?”
“This room,” Phatsa said, ignoring the slight sarcasm in Nakhun’s question. “It’s all wrong.”
“It’s our bedroom,” Nakhun said, stepping inside finally. Brushing his hair from his face, he came over to where Phatsa lay and leaned over him. “What’s wrong with it?”
Phatsa made a face, more at Nakhun humoring him than anything. He had half a mind to shove him away, but the overwhelming warmth of his scent washed over him instead, fading the annoyance he felt, calming him down, and he had to stop himself from grabbing at Nakhun instead to pull him closer.
“It’s not home.”
Phatsa wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain that to someone like Nakhun, who’d always had a family home to go to, who hadn’t had to make somewhere new his home.
Nakhun hummed, almost a sigh, and Phatsa jerked as Nakhun hopped over him to land on the bouncy mattress, surprising him. “How do we make it feel like home?” he asked when Phatsa rolled over to face him.
“I tried,” Phatsa grumbled, gesturing at the mess of clothes.
Nakhun’s eyes slid from his own suits back to Phatsa, and Phatsa wanted to frown even as Nakhun reached for him, brushing his hair from his face.
“You made a nest.”
“A ne—no, what?” Phatsa asked, taken aback. That hadn’t been what he was doing. Was that a real thing? He’d thought it was just a stereotype, that omegas made nests to feel safe, like some kind of animal instinct they hadn’t rid themselves of. That didn’t happen in real life, did it? Of course, up until he’d met Nakhun, a lot of things he hadn’t believed had been proved true. He had never noticed the scent of anything before Nakhun came along, had never gone into heat, had never wanted to claim someone as his own the way Nakhun had claimed him.
“It’s not bad, for your first one,” Nakhun said, as if it was a totally normal thing to do.
“I was just trying to get rid of the smell of this place,” Phatsa argued, shoving at Nakhun’s chest, as if it was his fault. “It’s not a nest.”
Despite the shove, Nakhun’s hand came to Phatsa’s cheek, dragging him closer to steal a kiss that Phatsa jerked his way out of. Nakhun wasn’t going to sweet-talk his way out of this.
“I can help with that,” Nakhun murmured, and Phatsa felt his body giving way to the pheromones rolling off of Nakhun, invading his senses and relaxing his muscles in spite himself.
It wasn’t fair that Nakhun was a true alpha, that he could do that thing where just being close to him calmed Phatsa even when he was angry. He wanted to fight back, fight about the nest, about the apartment, about Nakhun’s arms inching around his waist and pulling him closer on the bed. But it made Phatsa’s eyes flutter shut, his heart rate slowing as he took deep breaths, the anxiety churning his stomach finally calming.
Nakhun’s nose brushed against him, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, over the permanent bite marks etched into his flesh. He didn’t renew it, just rubbed his face there, and Phatsa shivered at the touch. Nakhun moved slowly, purposefully, nosing at Phatsa’s neck as he stretched it back against his own thoughts, wanting that gentle touch, that soothing stroke of Nakhun’s cheek against him.
Each press of Nakhun against him, each careful caress of his scent glands onto Phatsa, lulled him into something calmer, something softer and safer as the room filled with Nakhun’s heady scent. And it didn’t matter now that the walls were blank, that the apartment was filled with ugly cardboard boxes, that the emptiness from before was slowly disappearing as Nakhun nuzzled and rubbed and let his scent overwhelm Phatsa until it was all he could smell.
Swallowing, Phatsa stretched back, letting out a long breath as Nakhun nudged at his throat with his nose, hair tickling Phatsa’s chin. Nakhun didn’t even need to kiss him, leaving his scent all over, marking Phatsa, marking this place, and all Phatsa wanted to do was cling to him, which simply wasn’t fair.
“Khun,” Phatsa breathed despite the remaining desire to be pissed that Nakhun had accused him of nesting, but his hands had come to Nakhun’s shoulders, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him as he finally relaxed.
“Better?” Nakhun asked once he lifted his cheek from where he rubbed it against Phatsa’s neck, his scent saturating Phatsa’s clothes, the sheets, the pillows now.
Phatsa tried his best to narrow his eyes even as Nakhun smirked down at him, as if he knew the truth behind the mask.
“I didn’t make a nest,” he protested and Nakhun’s gaze softened, brushing Phatsa’s hair from his eyes.
“Not an impressive one,” he answered, and Phatsa shouldn’t been insulted, but he was.
Pushing Nakhun away (he didn’t go far, only a few inches at most), Phatsa glared. “If you hadn’t bitten me, we wouldn't even be in this situation.”
Phatsa wasn’t surprised when Nakhun smiled, that soft tilt to his mouth that made Phatsa both want to kiss him and slap it right off.
“Are you going to bring that up for the rest of our lives?” he asked, pressing his forehead into Phatsa’s temple despite how he pouted.
“Yes,” Phatsa said, grumpily, but he curled into Nakhun anyway. He did feel better now, now that Nakhun was here, now that everything had been marked, now that he felt safe. Instead, he glanced down as Nakhun’s hand came to rest over his stomach, as he left a gentle kiss at his temple, and Phatsa’s heart skipped a beat.
“Then I guess I’ll have to tell you how glad I am that I did for the rest of our lives,” Nakhun murmured, and even though Phatsa wanted to be annoyed, he wasn’t. The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed with each kiss Nakhun pressed to his cheeks, his nose, his chin, until he found his lips and kissed him properly, drawing Phatsa closer, breathing him in, tasting his lips.
It just wasn’t fair, Phatsa thought as he kissed Nakhun back. So easy to lose himself to this man he might never have known if they hadn’t crossed paths on the street that day, if he hadn’t been an omega, if Nakhun had had an ounce of self control. His life would have been totally different, but even though it wasn’t perfect, he thought as Nakhun pulled him half on top, it was still good.
“The food’s going to get cold,” Nakhun said between kisses, as if he cared at all with his hands up Phatsa’s shirt and his tongue sliding along his lower lip.
Phatsa paused, pulling back, and Nakhun followed, searching for his mouth. Instead, Phatsa stroked his fingers through Nakhun’s soft, silky hair, tucking it behind his ears as he leaned in. “I thought you said you were going to help me make this place feel like home.”
Nakhun licked his lips, eyes half-closed, but he nodded, landing a kiss on Phatsa’s chin and mouthing down his neck instead. “Wherever you are is home.”
Phatsa couldn’t be annoyed at that, and he smiled as he met Nakhun for a deep kiss and his senses tingled as the warm tingling scent of mandarin and cloves filled the room.
*
FIN.