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Omegaverse Exchange 2021
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Published:
2021-11-16
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Instinct

Summary:

A heavily-pregnant Yuri battles his instincts.

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Work Text:

"You did this to me." Yuri narrowed his eyes at Otabek, as though they had not had the same conversation countless times over the past nine months.

"Yes." Otabek didn't look up from scrolling through his phone.

"And what are you going to do to take responsibility?" Yuri's feet beat a tattoo against the wall. He had been unable to find a comfortable position for weeks now; he was moving every five minutes, and whenever he thought he had something he could live with, he'd inevitably have to pee within five minutes. "It's not fair. Someone else should have gotten pregnant with twins."

One dark eyebrow arched. "So you wish I'd have gotten someone else pregnant instead?"

Yuri's feet stopped. "No," he admitted, "I just wish someone else had to be pregnant."

It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time, the pulsing beat at the club in Vancouver driving him to dance. With hindsight, he knew it had been his impending heat that had driven him into Otabek's arms and then later into his hotel bed.

It had caught up with him later in the season, the sick, bloated feeling that had made him miss the podium at worlds. Otabek had taken the gold, and Yuri had seethed before running to the back to be sick. Then, he had had to endure Yakov's lectures that he ought to have known better, had been forced to confirm that he knew what happened when an alpha and an omega loved each other very much.

The press had had a field day, to be sure—two skaters at the heights of their careers carrying on a secret affair (though no longer young enough for a real scandal), a shock baby, and then when word had ended up leaking, the prospect of twins. Yuri himself had enjoyed his fair share of cute early pregnancy selfies. And then he'd gotten bigger. And bigger.

Who knew twins took up so much room?

"This is terrible," he groaned, rolling onto his right side. "Otabek, it's too hot."

"The air conditioner is on. What more do you expect me to do?"

Yuri paused, not actually having considered his answer. "Fan me."

Otabek did not even dignify that with a response.

Yuri lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the window unit, the shouts of children playing outside. Suddenly, he became aware of something.

It wasn't the four elbows and four knees that he frequently found wedged into a body cavity where no elbow or knee should be.

It was something different. A distinct urge.

"It won't be much longer now," Otabek was saying. That didn't reassure Yuri. It had been fun at the beginning—once people had stopped wringing their hands about his career (though Yakov hadn't stopped), he'd gotten magazine spreads and offers of endorsement deals. Now, at the end of his pregnancy, he was faced with the reality of impending parenthood, as well as other stupid biology things.

Like what he now recognized as an instinct, driving him to get up and overpowering his desire to lie on the bed and feel sorry for himself.

With a deliberate push, he got himself to the edge of the bed and rolled to his feet.

It didn't take much work to find suitable material; neither of them had been inclined to do laundry in the few days since it had become apparent that moving, much less bending over, would not be something Yuri enjoyed.

Otabek's T-shirts went into the pile on the bed, as well as every clean sheet they had (which was one other set). Otabek watched all this silently.

"Don't look at me," Yuri grumbled, settling himself back on the pile. "I didn't want to do this."

"Which part?" Otabek asked. His tone was the same, but there was an edge buried deep in his voice that Yuri hated to have heard and noticed.

"The nesting part. It's stupid. I won't do it."

Otabek put his phone down. "You look as though you're doing it to me."

Yuri let out a growl of primal frustration and opened the dresser. "It's stupid, but I feel all wrong if I don't do it. That's the only reason I'm doing it."

Otabek nodded as though all this made perfect sense. It made perfect sense to Yuri, but he had suspected Otabek would feel otherwise.

"I can help you."

"What?" Yuri hadn't meant for his surprise to be so obvious, but he dropped the T-shirt he was holding. "You're an alpha. You can't help me nest." Even saying the words made it sound so stupid.

Otabek said nothing, only fixing him with the glower Yuri had thought he would have been immune to by now after all these years and gave him a gentle nudge on the shoulder, barely a push at all, that indicated he should sit.

Yuri lay on his side in the middle of his meager nest, watching as Otabek opened drawers and hunted through the laundry basket.

"Things that smell like you," Yuri said. It was probably unnecessary to say it aloud, but the instinct seemed to be compelling him in this regard, too. He hated hormones.

"There," Otabek said when he had finished. "How's that?"

Yuri snuggled back against the nest. He felt supported, which took away some of the discomfort of the belly. And he did appreciate Otabek's scent. More than he cared to admit. He breathed deeply when he thought Otabek might not be looking.

"Thank you," he said.

Otabek sat on the edge of the bed, taking Yuri's hand in his. "Is that all you have to say to the alpha who provides for you?"

Yuri snorted. "I bring in more money than you ever will."

Otabek rolled onto his side, draping an arm around Yuri. "Then I'll just have to make up for it in other ways." His voice was low and dangerous, and while Yuri had never considered himself that kind of omega, he almost fell for it.

"You know," he said, "they do say one thing's good for inducing labor."

Otabek's smile widened. "And what would that be?"