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Style is an omega in his early stages of pregnancy, which for him means his biology has taken over completely. He nests in their bed with every soft blanket and pillow he can find or favorite piece of Fadel’s clothing, he sleeps fourteen hours a day if left alone.
Fadel can't do anything about any of this. He's tried shaking Style awake gently, tried planning dates and activities that Style likes so that he’s enticed to get out of bed, and tried opening the curtains to let some light in. Nothing works. Style just groans, rolls over, and burrows deeper into his nest like a cat refusing to acknowledge the need to face the day.
The situation gets stickier when Style starts missing work at his garage. Fadel wants to wake him up and ask if he's officially quit his job and how exactly they're supposed to ride out this pregnancy if Style sleeps through the whole thing, but Style is barely ever available for that conversation because he only stays conscious long enough to shower, eat something small, and crawl back into his nest before his eyes close again. Fadel has had to step into doing all the chores around the house.
Watching Style like this, so tired and so vulnerable stirs a deep sense of protectiveness in Fadel. They're mated, bonded, and every instinct in his alpha body is screaming at him to provide and protect, to make sure his omega wants for nothing. Style's need for sleep isn't an inconvenience; it's a signal. And Fadel's job is to answer it.
***
Fadel is getting ready for the morning market when his phone rings with a call from Style's dad, Jay.
"Is Tie coming in today?" Jay asks, sounding tired. "I'd call him but he doesn't answer. Is he alright?"
Fadel glances over at the bed where Style is fast asleep, blankets pulled to his waist, his small bump peeking out from under his crop top pajama shirt, looking so soft and peaceful that Fadel can't bring himself to disturb him even for this conversation.
"He's fine. He just sleeps a lot right now. The pregnancy is taking a lot out of him." Fadel finds himself defending Style’s new lifestyle.
Jay is silent for a beat. "Alright. Tell him I said hi."
Fadel hangs up, crosses the room, and presses a kiss to Style's forehead. Style murmurs something vague and turns his face into the pillow. Fadel pulls the blanket up a little higher and heads out.
***
The next time Jay calls, Fadel has no choice but to wake Style up to talk.
Style groans and presses his face deeper into the pillow. "Five more minutes. Or five more hours. Or five more days."
"Your dad says he's overwhelmed at the garage. He needs to know if you're coming in."
"No." Style grumbles and then his breathing evens out again like he’s falling back asleep.
Fadel sighs. He's read about this, how pregnant omegas respond to their alpha's scent, how it can calm them and coax them out of deep sleep when nothing else works. He's never tried it before because it feels too vulnerable for what he’s used to, but Style responsibilities are waiting and Style has to get up.
So, Fadel leans down and presses his nose against Style's throat, right over their bonding mark, and just breathes.
Fadel is not the type of demonstrative alpha to rub his scent all over his omega in broad daylight, but apparently he’s doing it right because Style's body recognizes him immediately. He relaxes and starts purring, turning over toward Fadel.
Fadel stays there for a long moment, letting his scent settle over Style like a second blanket, and when he finally pulls back, Style's eyes are open.
They're drowsy and unfocused, but they're open. "Fadel," Style whispers.
"Hi, baby." Fadel smiles at him. "Sorry to wake you but you have a job, remember?"
Style yawns. "I'd go but I'm just so pregnant."
"You're barely showing."
"And how would you know what's stressful?" Style raises a sleepy eyebrow. "Are you pregnant too, my love? You didn't tell me."
Fadel realizes he's just walked directly into that one.
"I know it's hard on you," he tries again, "but you have to work, Style."
Style is already yawning again, his eyes closing, and Fadel can see him slipping back toward sleep. "I can't stay awake, Fadel. The baby wants me to rest. Take it up with the baby."
Fadel thinks it over, about Style working on cars while exhausted, dealing with heavy tools and distracted hands and what could happen if his omega fell asleep standing up. The thought makes him so uneasy.
Beneath that fear, that protective instinct stirs again, the alpha urge to step in and fix things so his mate doesn't have to struggle.
"I'll cover for you today," Fadel says.
Style's eyes snap open. "What?"
"I'll go to the garage to help your dad."
"But what about the restaurant?"
Fadel shrugs. "They'll manage without me."
Style stares at him for a few seconds, and then his whole face breaks into this ridiculous, adoring smile. He opens his arms wide and puckers his lips. "You're just the best. How are you so sweet? Come here. Hug and kiss before you leave. I need sustenance before you go."
"I'm not sweet," Fadel says, but he leans down anyway and lets Style pull him into a crushing embrace.
“Oh you have strength for kisses?” Fadel teases Style, smiling.
“Fertility is strong with us. We can make another baby right now if you want.” Style wriggles his eyebrows.
Fadel laughs against Style’s shoulder.
***
At the restaurant, after Fadel has dropped off the morning market supplies, he gathers his staff, including his brother Bison, whom he's leaving in charge, and gives them very specific instructions.
"I mean it, Bison. Watch over everything and don't burn my kitchen down."
Bison waves a hand, completely unconcerned. "Don't worry. I'll call Kant. He's good at everything."
Fadel mutters under his breath as he walks out, "Is everyone outsourcing their work now?" and shakes his head.
***
Jay looks up in surprise when Fadel walks through the door. "I’ll take Style’s place for now," Fadel says simply. "I don’t know much about cars but I take instruction well. Tell me what to do."
“Is Tie alright?”
Fadel nods his head.
Jay stares at him for a moment, then shrugs and begins dishing out some instructions.
Fadel knows a few things from watching Style work, and he learns the rest as he goes, Jay is patient, explaining each task carefully, and Fadel does his best to follow every instruction exactly. It's not pretty, but it gets done.
Somewhere between changing oil and rotating tires, they start talking.
Jay mentions how busy it's been, how he can't keep up on his own with just two employees, how Style was supposed to be his right hand but now he's barely here. Fadel listens, and then he finds himself making a suggestion; what if they hired someone part-time? Just until the pregnancy is over and Style can come back?
Jay considers this, scratching his chin. "That's a good idea, but I can’t afford to pay Style and then someone else.”
“Hire someone and pay them Style’s salary. I’ll take care of Style,”
“That’s a long time until he gives birth then takes more time off to look after he baby.”
Fadel doesn't hesitate. His alpha instincts have taken the wheel now — provide and protect, provide and protect — and there's no room for doubt. "I'll make it happen," he says, his voice steady and sure. "Don't worry about the money. Just worry about finding someone good."
“Have you suggested this to Tie? What if he wants to come back to work?”
“He won’t, but if he does, he’ll come back. The new hire will be on temporal basis.”
Jay appears to ponder this, then he nods slowly. "Alright. I like that plan."
They shake on it.
Then Jay looks at Fadel with approval in his eyes. "You really care about my son, huh?"
Fadel feels his ears burn, but he nods.
"Well, that's good news, since you're the one who got him pregnant." Jay laughs lightly and pats Fadel on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming in to help today. You keep surprising me, Fadel." He chuckles and walks away, shaking his head. "It's like you're not even a murderer by night."
Fadel watches him go, all nonchalant about the murder part. All Fadel can think is: Style is absolutely his father's son.
***
On the way home, Fadel passes through the supermarket and picks up everything he needs for Style's favorite rice pudding.
When he gets home, he checks on Style and finds him exactly where he left him; in his nest, curled around a pillow, fast asleep.
Fadel sits down beside him and presses a kiss to his forehead.
Style stirs a little, smiling and mumbling something that might be, ‘You’re home.’ Fadel can’t be sure.
"Did you wake up at all today?" Fadel asks softly.
Style grumbles without opening his eyes. "Don't worry. I ate and showered and stuff."
Fadel smiles and leans down and presses his nose to Style's throat again, right over that bonding mark, breathing in the warm, sweet and sleepy scent of his omega. Style's whole face softens, a drowsy smile tugging at his lips, and that purr starts up again.
"I missed you," Fadel says.
"Missed you too," Style lazily opens his arms, inviting Fadel in for a hug. Fadel wraps his arms around Style’s waist and pulls him up into a sitting position for a proper embrace. “How are you?”
“Good. How was your day at the garage?”
Fadel leans back a bit to look at Style, “I did what I could. Your dad and I agreed to hire a part-timer to fill in for you until you’re ready to work again.” He brings one hand up to push Style’s overgrown bangs away from his eyes. “What do you think?”
“Think? About what? I get to stay home, sleep and eat.”
“Won’t you get bored? Lonely?”
“I’ll just follow you to work if I do.” Style smiles like that’s the ultimate solution to that.
“One other thing. Your dad can’t afford to pay you and a part-timer, so he’ll most likely put your salary on hold for a while. Still okay with that?”
“Do I get to spend your money?” Style asks. Of all people he knows that what Fadel makes from his hitman work is far from humble.
“Of course.”
Styles yawns and stretches then leans towards Fadel and pecks his lips, “Then I’m going back to bed.”
Fadel smiles, “You sure?”
Style makes a sound like a hum or leave-me-alone kind of protest
"I'll make the pudding," Fadel says.
"Only if you feed it to me," Style mumbles.
"Your arms don’t work now huh."
Style shifts to look at Fadel and shakes his head, pouting, "They shake when I lift them, you know."
Fadel rolls his eyes fondly.
***
Fadel makes the pudding and brings it to the bedroom on a tray. Style tries to sit up on his own but his arms wobble and Fadel has to help him, propping pillows behind his back and steadying the bowl.
"My arms feel so weak," Style complains, but he's grinning as Fadel lifts the first spoonful to his lips. "I'm basically helpless. Thank goodness I have a terribly handsome and strong alpha to take care of me."
"What was your excuse before you got pregnant?" Fadel asks.
“Don’t dig up the past, sweetie. It’s not cute.”
Fadel feeds him with one hand, slowly and carefully with one hand, while his other hand rests gently on Style's small bump. The contact is how he connects with the growing in there, his child.
Style notices, puts his own hand over Fadel's and smiles softly.
When they're done, Fadel helps Style out of bed to freshen up for bed and back.
Thereafter, Fadel clears the tray and takes it to the kitchen. He washes the dishes quickly, brushes his teeth, and changes into something soft for sleeping.
When he returns to the bedroom, Style is still awake, just barely, starting to doze off, but waiting.
Fadel climbs into the nest carefully, mindful of the pillows Style has intentionally arranged, and pulls his omega into his arms. He wraps himself around Style from behind, one arm sliding under Style's neck, the other draping across his chest and settling back over the baby bump.
Style sighs and melts into him, pressing back against Fadel's chest, and that purr starts up again, sleepier this time.
"Comfortable?" Fadel asks against Style's hair.
"Mmm." Style's eyes are closed. His hand finds Fadel's on his belly and holds it there. "Don't let go."
"Wasn't planning to."
Style smiles and falls asleep within minutes, pampered, content and happy.
-The End-