Work Text:
There’s a rock in his stomach as Vox surveys the jumble of clothes and pillows he’s dumped on his penthouse floor. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. This is his fifth attempt, but somehow it's the one that looks the worst.
It was lumpy, spread thin in some areas. His pack's scents were heaviest in the center, not the perimeter where they should be.
He sinks to his knees in the middle of the makeshift nest. He feels like sobbing as he gets the urge to tear it apart again. His skin is crawling just looking at it. He digs his claws into the nearest pillow and flings it across the room; feathers fly everywhere.
He was an omega. He was supposed to know how to do this. Then maybe Valentino wouldn’t prefer spending his nights in fucking Angel Dust’s nest rather than his.
Instincts. This should all be instincts, yet he was in the middle of this mess with nothing to show his packmates, and his heat was less than a day away.
It’s a failure.
He’s a failure, such a bad omega. Why would Velvette and Valentino want to spend his heat with him?
A piteous whimper leaves his lips, and his eyes burn. He rubs furiously at them, but it doesn’t relieve the pressure as hot tears wet his palms.
“Hey Vo—shit.”
Vox recognizes Velvette’s voice and huddles over cradling his screen and becoming the smallest ball he can. Maybe she’ll mistake him for one of his lumpy piles of clothes and leave.
Her heels tap closer, and she stands on what can barely be called the edge of the nest.
“Vox,” Velvette coos at him. His instincts perk up, telling him to chirp at his alpha. But he doesn’t want her here. Doesn’t want her to see his failure. He curls up tighter and bites back his sobs, muting his speakers when he can’t quiet them on his own.
“Omega,” she tries the barest hint of an alpha command. It's faint but it's enough that Vox can’t help but raise his screen. His red eyes meet her own. “Come here.” She crosses her legs and sits down on the edge of his mess, patting her thigh.
Vox hesitates just for a moment before he stiltedly crawls over to her and drops his screen facedown in her lap so he doesn’t have to look at her with his still-damp eyes. It’s pathetic. She shouldn’t have to see him like this.
“Val, get your ass up here now! No, I don’t care what you’re doing. NOW!” Vox flinches back from the sharp tone. “No, shhh, shh. You’re good, pretty boy. I’m not talking about you.” She raises her perfectly manicured nails and begins to stroke his ports. It’s soothing, and Vox can’t help but go limp as she pumps out her pheromones; spiced honey begins to cover his own sour smell.
Vox isn’t sure how much time passes, as Velvette keeps gently circling his inputs, but eventually the door opens and Valentino gags.
“What the fuck happened? Satan, it smells like rancid shit in here!”
Vox whimpers and flinches back. His alphas hate his smell! He pushes his hands down on the floor to lift his head from Velevette’s lap and retreat back into the corner of his failed nest. Then they could both leave and—
“Fuck Val, you idiot! I was just getting him calmed down! Now you set him off again!” Velvette’s scent gets spicier with her irritation, but she softens it as she grips the back of his neck and gently presses him back to her lap. “Shh shh, no Vox, you stay right here. Yes, that's a good omega, just like that.” He goes lax as her fingers brush over their pack mark on his neck.
Valentino plops down beside Velvette, his chocolate and cherry scent curls over both of them, and Vox takes a deep breath. His fans slow down as the scent of pack fills his lungs.
“Carino, what’s wrong?” Valentino’s long fingers curl under his monitor and gently lift his head so the alpha can get a better look at him.
Vox can barely see his packmates in front of him. There are two blurry pink and red blobs through his wet screen. Vox presses his face into the touch, desperate for it. He wants to cover himself in as much of their scent as possible before they inevitably leave him, just like Alastor had.
“He’s not said anything. I just walked into a storm of stressed omega pheromones, and he was having a breakdown in the middle of his nest. Now you see why I called you?”
Valentino hums. His other hands roaming over Vox, stroking his skin with light, delicate touches. Vox melts.
“Talk to us, baby, what’s wrong?” the taller alpha coaxes.
“Everything's wrong, look at it!” Vox wails, trying to hide back in Velvette’s lap, so he didn’t have to see his shameful attempt. Valentino doesn’t let him as his excessive number of hands grip Vox’s shoulders, holding him up.
“Your nest?” Valentino asks again, Vox nods. “Well, that’s no problem. I’ll help you, si? You stay right here with Velvette. Don’t move an inch, baby.” The command instantly falls into place as his omega instincts latch on, aiming to please.
Velvette takes charge, gently folding Vox on his side and cradling him against her chest so they can both watch Valentino work.
Their partner wastes no time, stepping over the sporadic perimeter of the nest and beginning to tighten it, tossing a pillow here and there until the mess becomes more circular. Occasionally, he scents things or brings the odd pillow or blanket over for Velvette to scent before carefully arranging it, folding it effortlessly into the nest's color scheme.
Vox’s breath catches in his throat. “Not too shabby, is he?” Velvette murmurs, “Not as good as the nest I would have built you, babes, but it's got a nice 70s sheik to it. Next time I’ll do it, and every other omega will just be dying for it. A nest-themed line would probably hit it big off the runway. Be a new trendsetter.”
Vox can’t even nod in agreement with her with Val’s command keeping him in place, but it probably would be a bestseller. His scent takes on a slightly sweeter tone at how clever one of his chosen mates is.
“There you are, omega,” Velvette says in approval, rubbing the edge of his casing. “Next time you just leave the nestmaking to us babes, you can just sit here and relax, and me and Val will build you the best nest Hell has ever seen.”