Work Text:
Ivan finds Till in the makeshift office of their home when he goes looking around after not seeing him in the living room like usual. His mate is curled up under Ivan's desk in front of the heater in the middle of a pile of blankets and towels with that pregnancy pillow under him. Freddie the cat is lying beside Till's legs, grooming himself languidly with some small purrs. Ivan pets his head before focusing on Till.
"Hey," Ivan says as he sits and nuzzles his face against Till's head, breathing in his scent and the smell of the shampoo he uses. Till takes a moment to process his presence dazedly as if he just woke up from a nap, and he leans in to kiss Ivan's cheek in response. "What're you doing in here?"
"t's warmer in here." Till shrugs.
Ivan nods, grabbing Till's hand and pressing kisses up his arm to his palm. "Hungry?"
"Don't think I can stomach anything right now." Till grumbles as he watches Ivan, tracks his movements as Ivan stands up and walks to the other side of the room to take off his jacket.
"That's fine."
Ivan grabs a pillow from the chair he uses and walks back to Till's nest and sits back against the desk in a place where he can be closer to Till in his nest. "Do you think you need anything?" Ivan asks.
"I need to be out of this trimester." Till huffs with a scowl.
"Soon, soon." Ivan soothes half-heartedly. Just a few more months, he always says to Till. He does feel a little bad when he sees Till struggle to sleep in bed despite needing it, like he inflicted something on Till because he'll never understand how he feels, no matter how in sync they are. As the alpha, Ivan's already incredibly attuned to Till's needs and emotions, just not enough. Somehow, Till always knows when to snuggle up to him and pull him out of his thoughts with a scolding remark or two when that happens.
Now Ivan has gradually learned to do what he can do-- be there. Even when it's just that.
"I hate throwing up."
"I'm sorry." Ivan replies with understanding, reaching forward to rub Till's back.
"I hate only wanting to eat sweet shit now. I feel like m' ten. This baby's gonna have your sweet tooth, I bet. Just to spite me. Now I'll really need to find a lock for the pantry..." Till says, rambling a bit and airing his grievances with a pout. It's hard to take Till seriously when he looks like an angry penguin these days, and Ivan knows he's not making the situation better by laughing at him for it more often than not.
"Mn."
"Every time you go to work, my body starts acting up because it needs your presence and scent like constantly, like damn, can I think for myself? My instincts are making me clingy and ridiculous." Till says, holding up one of Ivan's black shirts for emphasis, Ivan is pretty certain that the shirt should've been in the laundry basket before his mate took it for his stash. Till murmurs something else along the lines of "That alpha over there is useless anyway," under his breath as he carefully puts it back under his head.
Ivan combs his fingers through Till's hair. It's gotten longer throughout his pregnancy, as Till has had his frequent emotional highs and lows from more than just hormone shifts— he sometimes forgot to trim it and thus just allowed it grow out to his shoulder to see what it'd look like. But he won't let Ivan touch it either, even just to trim his ends. Apparently, he's afraid Ivan will shave it all off.
Ivan thinks his hair is just as pretty like this as he tugs on it. "Mn. Did you know male seahorses have a specialized brood pouch for when females deposit their eggs?" Ivan randomly blurts out.
"…Yes?" At the sudden shift in topic, Till's eyes droop to a blank, unimpressed stare towards Ivan's direction, but he allows it to distract him anyway from his earlier aggrieved rambling.
"I'd do that for you. To relieve your stress, sweetheart." Ivan affirms with the sincerest, stupidest smile of the day in Till's eyes.
Till, predictably, doesn't know how to respond to Ivan's random affirmations. But he lets out a soft laugh against his better judgment before he can think about how many more dumb jokes this will encourage from now on. That's a problem for future Till, unfortunately.
It reminds Till that since the beginning of his pregnancy, Ivan has been trying to improve his approach to improve their bond little by little.
"Uh? okay. Thank you. Too bad we're not seahorses. But I think I'll settle for fried rice instead. I just want that" Till grunted, he's already far too used to Ivan's awkward ways, and how he interprets what would be comforting to his pregnant mate in his second trimester with a horrible backache and a moody desire to choke out his alpha resting on the backburner currently from the mind of a situationally-socially-inept (More like intimacy inept, in Till's opinion, not that he can judge.) but obnoxiously smart man, that he breezes past the comment.
The effort on Ivan's part is still appreciated, in some way. But it's a good thing they aren't seahorses, Till would make him pay if he could pass this off. But Ivan would probably enjoy it anyway.
"Of course." Ivan agrees easily and leans in to pinch Till's bonding mark and kiss him on the mouth. Till is loath to admit the contact soothes him and distracts him from the cramps that make him want to get violent. Ivan even promises to read to him, and it makes Till consider. Maybe irritating alphas are good for something.
"You're very pretty." Ivan cooes when he pulls back.
Till rolls his eyes. "You're annoying."
Stubborn omega as ever. Ivan clicks his tongue and kisses the bridge of Till's nose— and his eyelid in consolation. "I'm sure. That's why your scent got all sweet just now. Like…lemon meringue?"
As if a metaphorical timer went off, but for the amount of teasing Till can tolerate in a few seconds before getting miffed, Till swats Ivan away and hisses. "Get out of my face before I punch yours." Till snaps back threateningly, even when Ivan laughs in his face.
"I love you." Ivan responds after dodging another one of Till's swats.
Flopping back onto his pillow, Till narrows his eyes off into another direction for a moment, but the blush on his cheeks is telltale. So he decides to acknowledge it before Ivan pesters him with more compliments that he knows he's weak to. He's a real conniving bastard. "Uhuh. Love you too. Help me up, I need to piss."
"Try not to fall into the toilet." Ivan chuckles as he gently helps Till sit up properly.
Till groans at the position change and rubs the small of his back. "Shut up, asshole."