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A rolling wave of queasiness swirls through Mingi’s stomach as Yunho cooks breakfast, the faint wafts from the kitchen nearly nauseating. Fingers clutching at the sides of his chair, he clenches his eyes shut tight, taking deep breath after deep breath, trying to fight back against the surging tide creeping up his chest.
“Here, Min,” Yunho says, setting down a plate in front of him with a quiet clink. “Try and eat something, okay?”
Mingi hums, the scent of food hitting him in the nose like a punch. He can’t stop the gag that constricts his throat, choking on nothing at the mere thought of eating.
“I can’t,” he mumbles, covering his nose with the back of a shaky hand.
“Can you try? Please? Just one bite. I know you’re still not feeling well, but you haven’t eaten properly in weeks. I’m getting worried.”
Yunho’s voice is heavy with defeat, and it kills Mingi. With a sigh, he opens his eyes, glancing down at the small plate of food Yunho made him. There’s barely anything on it, a single scrambled egg and half a piece of toast, no more than a few bites. But his stomach churns just looking at it, and he gags again, head swimming.
“Min…”
Shaking his head, Mingi grabs the fork, ignoring how badly his hands shake, and stabs the eggs, forcing himself to take a bite. Just one bite. He couldn’t stand the pitiful way Yunho looked at him, or the worry in his voice. How hard could it be to take one bite of food?
He chews and chews, tasting nothing as he swallows it down, shivering at the lump it leaves at the base of his throat. He lifts the fork for another bite—
But his stomach lurches, and his chair clatters to the floor as he rushes towards the bathroom on unsteady legs. Dropping to his knees with a heavy thunk, he heaves into the toilet bowl, gagging up barely anything, throat stinging raw with sour bile. Yunho is behind him a second later, rubbing his back and murmuring quiet reassurances of, “It’s okay,” into his ear.
It was all too familiar of a routine by now. He’d been sick for weeks; some kind of stomach flu that he couldn’t quite shake, making it nearly impossible to keep any kind of food down. He spent most of his mornings in the bathroom, pathetically throwing up and dry heaving, with Yunho dutifully at his side. When he wasn’t throwing up, he was severely nauseous, and when he wasn’t nauseous, he was exhausted. Being so sick for so long was becoming debilitating; every day he hoped he would wake up magically better, but with no end in sight, he didn’t know how much more he could take.
Mingi whines, gasping for breath as he rests his clammy forehead against the cool toilet seat. Yunho wordlessly wipes a damp cloth across his lips, cleaning up the sick, then helps him sit up to take a few sips of water, rinsing the awful taste from his mouth. Mingi collapses back against the wall with his legs sprawled out, boneless and drained.
“Mingi.” Yunho kneels across from him, hands clenched in white-knuckled fists against the floor, concern etched into the pull of his brows and the pout on his lips. “I really think we should go to the doctor. This isn’t normal.”
“I’m just sick,” Mingi mumbles, raspy and hoarse, swallowing thickly against the awful ache. “I’ll be fine.”
They’ve been running around in the same circle every few days; no matter how much Yunho begged, Mingi refused to go. He didn’t want to see a doctor for something as simple as the flu. He just had to power through and get over it.
Yunho sighs, inching closer. Mingi refuses to look at him.
“It’s been over three weeks, Min. A stomach flu doesn’t last this long. Please, let’s just go—”
“I said I’m fine!”
Mingi flinches as Yunho cradles his cheek, thumb circling in gentle strokes against his flushed, prickling skin. Yunho looks defeated, and Mingi hates it. He does nothing but cause Yunho problems, and it eats him alive from the inside out. Why has Yunho stayed by his side for so long? Why does he put up with his stubbornness, his insolence, his problems? Anyone else would’ve walked away eons ago. But for some reason, Yunho stays, no matter how sad Mingi makes him.
“You’re not fine.” Yunho smiles something small and sad, his scent wilting. “You can’t eat, you don’t sleep. You can barely make it through a day at work. And you—” Yunho pauses, his bottom lip trembling, and Mingi reaches up, intertwining their fingers together. “You’ve lost so much weight recently. I know you don’t want to, but— you need help, Min. This isn’t normal. We need to go see a doctor. Please. It hurts to see you like this.”
Mingi turns and kisses Yunho’s palm, squeezing his trembling hand tighter. Guilt claws up his throat, and he mumbles out a quiet, “Sorry,” not knowing what else he could possibly say to ease Yunho’s worries.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Yunho says, vehemently shaking his head. “I just— I know you don’t like doctors, but we should really—”
“Okay, fine,” Mingi finally relents, shoulders slumping. “If I’m still sick tomorrow, we can go.”
He knew this wasn’t normal. Of course he did. He just didn’t want to admit that something was wrong. He didn’t want to be poked and prodded at and lectured about his health. He didn’t want to be questioned about his omega or learn that something was wrong. But even he knew he couldn’t go on like this any longer.
Yunho smiles, something more genuine, blinking away the threatening shiny wetness in his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbles, pulling Mingi into a gentle hug, cradling the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair. “I’m really sorry, Min. I know you don’t want to, but I’m just so worried—”
“I know.” Mingi buries his nose in Yunho’s scent gland, lips muffled against his collarbone. “It’s okay. I know.”
———
Leg bouncing, heart racing, Mingi stares unseeing at the wall, Yunho’s hand on his knee not enough to quell his nerves. The room smells too clean and clinical, and the stark white lights are too bright, causing uneasy flashbacks to play at the back of Mingi’s mind.
That morning, he’d barely even made it out of bed before he was running to the bathroom, hunched over and dry heaving into the toilet. He already knew what Yunho would say, and nodded along wordlessly to his pleading look. He spent the entire drive to the clinic with his head between his knees, fighting back waves of nausea. His scent was sour, the acrid smell of burnt sugar filling the car, all of his anxieties boiling up and over into an awful, palpable stench. The receptionist at the front desk had curtly offered him a scent patch, and he’d accepted, not wanting to be a bother, and not wanting to smell his own grimy apprehensions.
When the door clicks open, Mingi’s heart skips a beat; his inner wolf slinks against the walls of his chest, its ears pinned back, its tail tucked between its legs.
“Hello, Mr. Song. It’s nice to meet you,” the nurse says with a small bow, and Mingi nods, not even attempting a smile.
Mingi turns to Yunho, silently asking him to speak for him, not trusting himself with the nausea still lingering in the back of his throat.
“I— I’m Jeong Yunho, Mingi’s mate. It’s nice to meet you, too,” Yunho says politely, taking Mingi’s hand in his, his small smile not quite reaching his eyes. Yunho’s inner wolf’s hackles were raised, Mingi could tell that much, distrusting and overprotective until it could be proven otherwise.
“So, what seems to be the problem today, Mr. Jeong?”
“Mingi hasn’t been, um, feeling very well lately.” Yunho clears his throat, squeezing Mingi’s hand even tighter. “He’s been sick every morning. He can barely keep any food down. And he’s tired all the time, but he can’t really sleep. At first, we thought he just had the flu, but it’s been weeks now, and he still isn’t feeling any better, so I’m, um— I’m really worried about him.”
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Mr. Song,” the nurse says, typing into her computer, the quiet clacking of the keys a monotonous buzz against the ringing in his ears. “Let’s get your vitals and do some labs, and see if we can’t figure out what’s going on.”
Mingi nods wordlessly, following along as she takes his heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature. She types the results in, then clicks on a new tab. “And when was the first day of your last heat?”
Blinking, Mingi stares with wide eyes. “What?”
“Do you remember when your last heat was?”
“I…” he turns helplessly to Yunho, not sure how to answer. Biting at his lip, leg bouncing faster, he mumbles his way through an explanation, unsure of what’s even written in his file. “I— about a few months ago? But I’m not… I wasn’t born an omega. I was an alpha, and then we… y’know… he turned me into, um, an omega. So my heats still aren’t really regular yet.”
The nurse nods along, clicking a date on a little calendar that pops up. “It does say here you had inquired about bitching around… two years ago. Does that sound right?”
“Yes, but the doctor we asked advised against it, and told us it wasn’t possible,” Yunho says, clenching his jaw. “But we did it anyway. And it worked.”
“I can see that!” she says with a smile, the clear sincerity of it melting away some of Mingi’s nerves. “Your last blood test from a few months ago shows your secondary gender as omega. I’m very happy for the both of you!”
“Thank you,” they both say in unison, and Mingi feels lighter than he has in weeks. Maybe this appointment wouldn’t be that disastrous; maybe they’d actually get some answers without being talked down to.
“Now, is it alright if we go get some labs done, Mr. Song? Are you feeling well enough to stand?”
Mingi nods, and follows the nurse, leaving Yunho alone in the room. He waits impatiently, his worries slowly creeping back up the longer it took for Mingi to come back.
All he wanted was for Mingi to be okay. That’s all he ever wanted. He would lay down his own life for him, again and again, in any universe, timeline, or existence, if it meant Mingi would be okay.
All he ever wanted was for Mingi to be okay.
He breathes a sigh of relief when Mingi walks back in, the nurse lingering in the doorway. “I’ll come back as soon as your results are ready, so just hang tight,” she says, closing the door quietly behind her.
Mingi leans against his shoulder with a heavy groan, and Yunho nuzzles his cheek against his hair, providing whatever small comfort he could.
“Did she say anything? About what she thinks is wrong?”
“No. They just took some blood and had me pee in a cup so they can check basic levels of stuff, or whatever. I dunno. I wasn’t really listening.”
Yunho couldn’t help but chuckle, turning to leave a quick kiss against Mingi’s temple.
They wait, and they wait, and they wait. Yunho can tell Mingi is even more anxious than he is; biting away at his fingernails, his leg bounces relentlessly, and Yunho catches a whiff of burnt sugar even through the scent patch. His heart breaks seeing Mingi so worried, knowing he can’t do anything more than this to help.
A sudden, quiet knock on the door makes Mingi’s heart lurch. He holds his breath as the nurse walks to her desk, her face oddly blank for how friendly she was earlier.
“Sorry for the wait,” she says softly, straightening the papers in her hands.
It’s like the air in the room has shifted – Mingi’s burnt sugar mixes with Yunho’s bitter spice, a heavy blanket of unease laying over them. Mingi wants to throw up, not from the nausea, but from the anticipation.
“Well?” Yunho asks quietly, unsure of what else to say. Is he going to be okay? Did you find anything? Is something wrong? What took you so long to come back? Please just tell me he’s going to be okay. I just want him to be okay.
“I’m not sure how to word this, exactly, so please forgive me,” she says, hesitating, folding her hands in her lap. “Mr. Song… Are you aware that you’re pregnant?”
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“Mingi?”
A warm hand cradles his face, as another grasps his fingers in a too-tight grip.
“Min? Can you hear me?”
He blinks, and Yunho slowly comes into focus, kneeling before him. Mingi frowns, confused.
“There you are,” Yunho whispers, sighing in relief. “We lost you for a minute.”
“Sorry,” Mingi says, squeezing his hand back, offering a small smile in reassurance. “I think I must’ve misheard. It sounded like she said I was pregnant.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “God, can you imagine?”
Yunho’s face falls. He looks over his shoulder at the nurse, who wheels her chair closer.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Song, but that’s exactly what I said.” She hesitates, quickly glancing down at her papers, then smiles, in pity, or in solace, or in worry, he doesn’t know; but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Both of your tests came back positive. You’re—”
“But I can’t be.” Mingi shakes his head, barely containing his nervous, scoffing laugh. “I mean— I already told you I wasn’t a real omega. I don’t— I can’t— it’s literally not possible. So there must be some mistake.”
“It’s no mistake—”
“I can’t get pregnant!” he cries out, frustrated. “Don’t you get it? I’m not really an omega on the inside! I was born an alpha! And alphas can’t get pregnant!”
“Min—”
“No, Yunho!” Mingi snaps, pulling his hand free. “We— we can’t pretend anymore! Not with this! I know we’ve deluded ourselves into thinking I’m something I’m not, but this isn’t possible! It can’t be! Alphas can’t get other alphas pregnant!”
“Mr. Song, just listen to me for a moment, please.” The sudden smell of calming beta pheromones hangs heavy in the air, and Mingi almost hates how it instantly makes him falter mid-sentence and focus on her words. “You are no longer an alpha. You are now an omega. That was your desire when you decided to undergo bitching, yes?”
“Yeah?” he says, frowning. “And?”
“I’m sure you already know this, but the original biological purpose behind studding and bitching was to sustain and grow the population. It’s something our ancestors would sometimes rely on in order to procreate and guarantee the next generation. Omegas could become alphas, and alphas could become omegas, for the sake of having and raising children. While it is quite an uncommon practice nowadays, it can still happen, intentionally or not, and to varying degrees. As we can see with you, Mr. Song— you are an omega now. Being bitched doesn’t only just change your inner wolf— it also changes your entire body, in ways you clearly didn’t anticipate. I’m sorry that this has come as quite the shock, and that nobody explained this possibility more thoroughly to you.”
“It’s okay,” Mingi hears himself say, in a pathetically raspy barely-there whisper.
She searches his face for a moment, then stands, smoothing out her white coat. “Why don’t I leave you two alone for a few minutes?” she asks. “So you can talk in private. I’ll be right back.”
The door shuts once more with a soft click, and the room falls silent.
But Yunho doesn’t let the silence linger for too long. “Min?”
Shaking his head, Mingi chokes, throat tight with impending tears. He can’t do this, not right now. Not when his whole world has just been turned upside down.
“Are you okay?”
But those three words were enough for his tears to spill over, a ragged breath in all he could muster. A moment later he was in Yunho’s arms, his fingers splayed at his nape, cradling him against his neck. He cries uncontrollably into Yunho’s collar, muffling his choked-back sobs. A heavy weight presses on him, too much shock all at once jolting his mind, body, and soul. He and his inner wolf are both confused, each of his cries echoing with its whiny howls in his heart. He can’t stop crying even as Yunho whispers quiet reassurances in his ear, his gentle words doing nothing to quell the anxiety coursing through his veins.
“Shh, Min,” Yunho mumbles, pulling away just enough to kiss his forehead, lips lingering. “What’s wrong, hmm?”
“What’s wrong?” Mingi scoffs. “How can you even ask me that?”
“Mingi—”
Pushing Yunho away, Mingi huffs, arms wrapping tight around himself as he glares down at the floor. His eyes sting and his hands won’t stop shaking, a thousand different emotions running through his mind, all disorienting and conflicting. “How are you even so calm right now?” he snaps, hating the irritation bubbling up from his gut.
“Because you aren’t.”
“How can I be?” he mumbles, eyes blurring over again. “I know you like to joke about me having your pups during our heats and ruts and stuff, but this—” he gestures his hands aimlessly, trying to wordlessly encompass his thoughts. “If it’s really true, if I’m really… this is real. It won’t just be some stupid fantasy anymore.”
“It was never a joke,” Yunho whispers seriously, and Mingi looks up in shock. Yunho’s gaze holds a tender longing, full of a deep-rooted love that is just as overwhelming as it is comforting. “I promise you, I was never joking. It wasn’t just some dirty talk. I’ve always wanted to start a family with you, Min. But only—” Yunho’s voice hitches, and he bites his trembling lip, forcing a small smile as one stray tear slides down his cheek. “I only want that if you do. But if you don’t— if this is too much, or… if you really don’t want this—”
“Of course I want it.” Mingi grits his teeth, hugging himself tighter. “I’ve dreamt of this too.”
“...But?”
“But…” Mingi swallows heavily, shrugging. “…I don’t know if I’m— if we’re ready for…” He points to his stomach, feeling just a little stupid. “This.”
Yunho cradles his face and bumps their foreheads together, his thumbs tenderly wiping the tears from his cheeks. He smiles, so pure and bright and true that it makes Mingi forget his worries for a moment. He can’t help but smile back, a swirling calm rushing through their mate bond, flushing out everything bad with each breath, leaving only hope and love and a promise.
A knock on the door makes them jump apart, heads whipping toward the nurse poking her head in. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Yunho mumbles, drying his eyes with his sleeves. “We’ll be okay.”
And Mingi could almost believe it too.
———
Yunho snuffles awake, turning over with a groan. Arm stretching out, he blindly searches for Mingi to curl up against, wanting nothing more than to hold him close and let his sugary sweetness lull him back down.
But all he feels is empty bed, his hand brushing against cold crumpled sheets and blankets. Sitting up with a whine, eyebrows knitting together, he blinks away the heavy, lingering drowsiness gripping the corners of his mind and stumbles down the hall, following the light spilling out from under the bathroom door like a moth to a flame. Already slightly ajar, he gently pushes it open, but pauses in the doorway, heart sinking.
Mingi stands hunched in front of the mirror, with his shirt pushed up under his chin and his pants hung low on his hips, poking at the soft skin of his belly as he stares blankly at his reflection.
“Min? Are you okay?” Yunho whispers softly, voice still rough with sleep.
Mingi ignores him, and Yunho wonders if he even heard him, clearly stuck in a daze.
“Mingi? Are you—”
“I thought I was just getting kinda fat, y’know?” Mingi murmurs, biting at his lip, turning sideways so his stomach was in profile. “I never would’ve guessed I had a thing growing inside of me.”
Yunho gasps when he sees it; a barely-there bump, such an obvious sign now that they knew it was there.
Padding closer, Yunho embraces Mingi from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder, hands settling on his belly, eyes flitting towards the printed-out sonogram propped up on the counter.
Once their nurse had come back, she’d mentioned that the imaging lab had an open appointment for an ultrasound, if they wanted to take it. Mingi had nodded instantly, and Yunho knew it was because he needed more proof than two positive tests could give; if he could see it, then he would actually believe it.
He’d laid back nervously, hanging on to Yunho’s hand in a white-knuckled grip, wincing at the weird feeling of the warm jelly on his lower stomach. The technician was kind and gentle, calmly explaining what was going on as she pressed the wand to his skin. They’d both gasped as a small little blob came into view.
“Is… is that it?” Mingi had asked, voice all lilting and wobbly, barely holding it together. “Is that…?”
“That right there is your pup!” she said with a smile, pointing at the screen. “This here is baby’s head, and these are baby’s feet, and hands. Baby is about the size of a lime right now!”
“It’s so small,” Mingi gasped around a wet chuckle, covering his mouth in awe.
“Does everything look okay?” Yunho couldn’t help but blurt, palms sweaty, heart racing erratically. He hadn’t meant to ask it, not wanting to worry Mingi, but he just had to know.
“Everything looks good to me. It’s still early in your pregnancy, but baby looks healthy so far,” she’d replied, and Yunho’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Would you like to know the sex now, or wait?”
Yunho answered, “Let’s wait,” without thinking, at the same time Mingi said, “Now.” They looked at each other with wide eyes, surprised by their contradicting replies.
“Oh.” Yunho blushed sheepishly, squeezing Mingi’s hand in apology. “Sorry, Min. I just thought we’d… You really want to know now?”
Mingi nodded, blushing just as fiercely. “I wanna be ready, and like, pick out a name, and decorate, and buy clothes, y’know? I wanna do all that before it gets here. I wanna know.”
“Okay. We’ll do whatever you want,” Yunho said simply, kissing Mingi’s knuckles softly. “We’d like to know now.”
The technician had smiled, looking each of them in the eye before whispering, “You’re having a girl. Congratulations!”
Mingi had cried happily the entire way home, the sonogram resting on his knees as one hand rested on his stomach, staring at their cute little blob, grinning so wide his eyes scrunched up. Their world had flipped in a matter of hours, and Yunho couldn’t stop smiling, glancing over at his mate every few seconds, his heart close to bursting.
But now, finding Mingi practically dissociating in the bathroom in the middle of the night, Yunho didn’t know what to do.
“Mingi,” Yunho says gingerly, kissing his scarred-over mating bite. “It’s not a thing. It’s a pup. Our pup.”
Mingi hums, gaze still honed in on his stomach, eyes glassy and glazed over.
“What’s wrong, love? Hmm?”
“I dunno,” Mingi mumbles, leaning back heavily against Yunho’s chest. His scent was off, the weak whiffs of stale sugar filling Yunho’s nostrils making his alpha whine restlessly. Yunho scents him thoroughly, rubbing his nose all along his neck and chin and cheeks and nape, hoping his spice was reassuring, in some way, however small.
“Please talk to me,” Yunho pleads, seconds away from getting on his hands and knees to beg for what else he could do to take away Mingi’s distress.
Frowning, Mingi’s hands shake as they intertwine with Yunho’s, cradling his stomach together. Yunho can feel his heart racing through his back, his ragged breaths betraying how close he was to breaking down again. Each second of silence was torturous, but Yunho waits, letting him think, knowing if he pushed too hard he’d just shut down fully.
Mingi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his exhale raspy. “I’m afraid, Yuyu.”
Yunho’s heart breaks. He turns Mingi in his arms, trying to search his face, but he hides in Yunho’s shoulder, fingers clinging to his shirt so tight the fabric stretches.
“Afraid of what, Min?” Yunho hugs him closer, rubbing his back slowly, kissing the shell of his ear. “I’m right here. You can tell me.”
Mingi whines. “What if—” he chokes, curling up smaller. “Wh-what if this is a mistake? What if something bad happens because I—I’m not a real omega? What if my body isn’t ready yet and something goes wrong? What if she gets hurt, or turns out wrong?”
“That’s why we have doctors,” Yunho says as calmly as he can manage. “They’ll take care of you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“But what if it does?” he cries, sniffling. “I don’t know anything about raising pups! What if I do something wrong? What if I can’t take care of her? I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her!”
“Min—”
Mingi whimpers, sobbing against Yunho’s skin, slurring his words. “Or what if she doesn’t like me? What if I’m a bad mother and she hates me? Oh god, Yunho, what if—”
“Shh,” Yunho hushes, cradling Mingi’s cheeks, gently forcing him to look up at him. He’d be a liar if he said all those worries hadn’t already flashed through his mind too, but he needed to stay strong, for all of their sakes. “You aren’t going to be a bad mother. Nothing is going to go wrong. It’s all going to be okay.”
“But what if it isn’t?”
“Let me worry about that. I promise you, as long as you have me, nothing bad will happen.”
“You can’t promise that.” Mingi pouts. Yunho coos, kissing his pink cheeks.
“Yes I can.” Yunho brings their lips together in a gentle kiss, tender and slow, pushing all his love and devotion into it. “Let me worry about everything. All you have to do now is stay happy and healthy so this little pup can grow big and strong.”
Mingi smiles through his tears, and Yunho kisses him again, and again, and again, cherishing each small giggle it gets him.
“You don’t have to worry about anything, Mingi,” Yunho repeats, his inner wolf running laps around his heart, giddy and full of hope for what lies ahead. “She’ll love us just as much as we already love her. I know she will. She’s our little miracle. A princess for my princess. She’s going to be absolutely perfect.”
“Our perfect little pup,” Mingi murmurs, lifting up his shirt again, glancing sideways in the mirror.
Yunho lets him quietly look for a few minutes more before gently dragging him back to bed, where they collapse amongst the blankets, curled up in each other, hands cradled against his small bump.