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Some days it seems like Nanook can’t have a single conversation with his son without it devolving into an argument, the only variation the decibels of shouting from Khaslana’s side involved. They’re both stubborn, both petty, and both refuse to tiptoe around the other, frequently leaving them at an impasse.
The most precarious time is the prelude to Khaslana’s heats, raging hormones putting him a spark away from igniting. The actual heat, the same as Nanook’s uncommon ruts, are considered a period of armistice. The leadup though… it’s a headache and a half. With fortuitous timing, Nanook has a business trip this cycle, the five days covering the prelude. It’s a reprieve granted, a space away where he can cool his head and contemplate how to approach the newest rebellion—Khaslana fooling around with those punks at his school.
Nanook has finished packing, the only item missing is his favorite jacket. After turning over his room, the living room, and the office, Nanook is forced to give up, his time of departure nearing. He still has one thing to do before leaving the house.
He goes to knock on Khaslana’s door.
It opens with a scowl and a rude, “What?”
“I’m heading out now. If there’s an emergency—”
“Call Uncle Zephyro. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Khaslana rolls his eyes.
“Take care of yourself,” Nanook continues evenly. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Just stay gone,” Khaslana sneers, moving to slam the door in his face.
Nanook catches the edge, holding firm. He looks at Khaslana’s belligerent expression, the shoulders paradoxically tense with guilt, and feels… tired. Perhaps that is why he says what he does next, instead of the stern admonition he should give. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, quiet and worn. He expects the question to receive the disparaging put down it deserves, but maybe Khaslana is just as tired of their endless quarrel because today, he hesitates.
It’s the space of three breaths before Khaslana gives a grudging, “I’ll see you later.” He doesn’t meet Nanook’s eyes.
It has Nanook thinking that maybe they aren’t as hopeless as he thought, that there is something left to salvage from the wreckage. A sudden longing has Nanook extending his hand for a single stroke through soft, blonde strands—an inadvisable course of action. On a normal day, the gesture is guaranteed to start a fight, but Khaslana must be in a strange mood. His shoulders hunch a little, a tint of color in his cheeks, but he doesn’t slap the hand away.
“Have a good night,” Nanook says quietly.
Nanook has reached the end of the hall when he hears it. The words are spoken so softly that he knows they were not meant for him to hear.
“Be careful on the road... father.”
**
The negotiation meeting with Arcadia is a mitigated disaster, the deal decisively falling through, ending the affair two days earlier than anticipated. The setback was somewhat expected, both sides unwilling to make necessary compromise, but it still has him simmering with dissatisfaction. Brooding over the matter, Nanook forgets to text Khaslana that he is arriving home early, only remembering it when he arrives to find the house dark. 10 PM on a Friday night is too early for Khaslana to be in bed, but his sleep patterns tend to be fitful and irregular around his heat.
Conscious that Khaslana may be asleep, Nanook minds the noise level as he lets himself into the house, hauling in the luggage. He leaves the suitcases in the entryway to deal with tomorrow, fatigued from a cross-country flight. A light scent of citrus and honeyed warmth hangs in the air, a faint note of bergamot tea, and Nanook unconsciously relaxes. Whether it’s aggravating or behaving, enticing or soothing, it doesn’t change that this is the scent of home to him.
Nanook goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, drinking it slowly. Putting the glass in the sink, he takes the steps to the second floor landing. The scent fills out as he climbs, becoming complex and full bodied, middle notes of golden wheat emerging, idyllic and cozy, with a hint of summer storm.
At the top of the steps, he sees that the gap beneath Khaslana’s door is dark. He’ll leave the greeting for the morning then. Khaslana hates being seen in his nest. The few times Nanook knocked on the door during the preheat to heat phase, he was irascibly chased away. He passes by the door without sound, familiar with the old house. Arriving at the master bedroom, he silently turns the knob and goes in, closing the door behind him with a muted click. Flipping the switch, the lights come on, illuminating a shocking sight.
Khaslana is in Nanook’s bed.
Khaslana is nesting in his bed, curled within a cozy wall of pillows and blankets.
The head of blonde fluff jerks up, shrinking back into the pillows. “N-Nanook? What are you doing here?!” Khaslana demands shrilly, more guilt and panic on his face than the time Nanook walked in on him watching pornography.
Nanook stares, his feet rooted to the ground.
Nesting is a self-soothing behavior. A family member may join an omega in their nest for comfort, or an omega may borrow a scent-soaked item from that person for the same purpose.
However, building your nest in someone else’s bed has different implications. It is not familial.
Khaslana, his son, is nesting in Nanook’s bed.
“I—You weren’t using it anyways. It’s, it’s just that your bed is bigger, I needed the space and it’s more comfortable—” Khaslana babbles nervously, his breaths coming too short. Because there is no excuse that can explain this away; the scene is too incriminating. His voice soon falters and, in the face of Nanook’s continued silence, the excuses soon peter out. A heavy silence falls between them, fraught with unspeakable tension.
Nanook steps forward. His expression is devoid of emotion, but beneath the placid surface, intense undercurrents run unseen.
Each step has Khaslana tensing further. His hands clutch the blankets, looking hunted.
Stopping at the bedside, Nanook examines the scene.
The grey comforter has been pushed to the foot of the bed, one of Nanook’s pillows with gold-black stitching taking place of honor where Khaslana had been resting his head. At present, Khaslana is huddled back into downy cream-colored pillows that form a half crescent, open towards the door. The curved pillow wall is padded with plush, soft blankets in mellow hues. It’s a contrast to Khaslana’s usual preference for bold colors, with an unfortunate penchant for bright yellows and rich purples. The plush fabrics continue around to complete the circle, layered and arranged to form a low wall.
Amongst the blankets, Nanook counts three items pilfered from him. One of his dress shirts is draped over the pillow wall, another stuffed higher amongst the blankets. And, on the central pillow, lies his favorite jacket.
So this is where it was.
Before he turned on the lights, and Khaslana’s scent soured with panic, Nanook had caught of whiff of contentment. Of longing.
Prior to this, it had just been Nanook’s problem, holding too tight, constraining Khaslana’s freedom. He believed it was for Khaslana’s safety, but he later came to realize that what lay beneath was an all-encompassing possessiveness. He corrected his behavior, but the damage was done.
With Khaslana reciprocating, it’s no longer just his problem. This… complicates things.
But complicated can wait for later. This is his boy missing him, needing him, and Khaslana’s scent is turning distressed.
“Is it enough?” Nanook asks, his deep voice exceptionally gentle.
“W-What?”
Nanook gestures to his jacket, the motion relaxed. “Do you need any more for your nest?”
Khaslana stares.
“The scent will be stronger on the clothes I’m wearing.” This is crossing a line. But that’s his boy’s scent intermingled with his in the sheets, and Nanook wants nothing more than to bundle Khaslana up and snug him in tight.
“Your… your shirt.” Khaslana is tensed warily, as if expecting it to be a trick. His throat moves. “Give me your shirt.”
The hint of belligerent demand has Nanook’s eyes lidding with satisfaction. “Jacket?” He keeps his tone neutral, not pressing.
“No.” The answer is decisive.
Nanook nods. As if it’s a normal end of the day, he removes his jacket and goes to the closet, hanging it up. The knot of the gold tie is undone, pulled through and placed on the tie rack. Then, the waistband, undoing the top button. The sound of the zipper going down has Khaslana’s scent spiking. Nanook’s mouth twitches. What is the pup getting excited for? Tugging the ends of his shirt out, he pointedly refastens his trousers, and the spiciness at his back wilts into embarrassment. The hormones of youth…
Unbuttoning the dress shirt, Nanook shrugs it off, leaving it on a shelf. Sifting through the closet, he finds an old light blue shirt, worn and soft.
“What’s taking you so long?” The sheets rustle restlessly. “Getting slow in your old age?”
“Why so impatient?” Nanook counters, turning to see Khaslana’s scowl. Walking over, he holds out the shirt.
Still eyeing Nanook with suspicion, Khaslana snatches the shirt from his hand. After a second of hesitation, he turns to his nest. He moves a blanket. He puts the shirt down, then picks it up again.
Nanook watches on with interest.
Looking around the nest, Khaslana shifts a blanket here, a pillow there. Agitation rises, the scent mild. He adjusts the blankets on Nanook’s side and snaps, self-conscious, “What are you looking at? Never seen an omega nest before?” Tellingly, he doesn’t demand that Nanook leave.
The final destination of the shirt is near the collar of the jacket.
Mm. Khaslana knew exactly where he wanted it; the rest was just a smokescreen.
“Can I join you?” Nanook asks casually. Khaslana expression goes slack with surprise. “It looks cozy.”
It’s a bit of a wait before Khaslana manages a response.
“You’ll mess up my nest,” Khaslana says, his voice oddly hoarse. He fidgets with the blankets. His gaze can’t seem to settle, shifting between Nanook and the nest.
Nanook waits.
“Don’t you have work to do? You always do.” The words are tinged with bitterness. “Why are you even here?”
“Meeting ended early.”
Khaslana plucks at the sheets.
It’s another two minutes before Khaslana growls under his breath and begins moving with purpose. He pushes the walls of the nest outward, turning on his knees and going clockwise. When he reaches the bottom, he pauses. His eyes go to Nanook, sizing him up.
“…I need more blankets.”
**
After gathering the blankets in the house, Khaslana has Nanook lay down against the pillow wall.
“Why are you so stupidly big,” Khaslana mutters as he moves around Nanook’s bulk, adjusting and readjusting the pillows. “What the hell did they feed you growing up?”
“The bones of brats,” Nanook says placidly, eyes half closed. “Good source of calcium.”
Khaslana rolls his eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
Nanook pretends not to notice the sneaky little hands that touch him here and there, slipping when tucking a pillow against his back, lingering when shifting a blanket near his thigh.
The nest nearly reformed, Khaslana gets stuck at the thin bottom edge, guarded by a single blanket. The comforter is not given consideration—too thick and the fabric not soft enough.
“You need another blanket,” Nanook observes.
“Ugh,” Khaslana agrees.
Careful not to disturb the nest, Nanook climbs out. In the periphery of his vision, he sees Khaslana make an abortive motion, reaching for him, and feels the tug in his heart. Going to the far end, he draws a thick navy blanket out from under the covers.
Khaslana glares hatefully at the navy blanket, trying to set fire to it with his eyes.
Settling back into the nest, Nanook hands it to Khaslana.
Khaslana pinches the cloth between his fingers with utmost disdain.
Nanook smirks. “You’d almost think that poor blanket had done you wrong.”
A low growl rumbles in Khaslana’s chest. He shoves the blanket to the bottom. With his feet. Then covers it with the other blankets. “I can’t believe you used to use this damn thing to restrain me, you lunatic.”
“A little blanket burrito,” Nanook reminisces, mouth curved with amusement. “It was hilarious. I would roll you up and you wouldn’t be able to do anything.” The memory of the small angry face, swaddled up and wriggling futilely has Nanook snickering.
Khaslana pauses his actions to shove Nanook’s shoulder. Once. Twice. It does nothing to dampen Nanook’s amusement. Muttering darkly, Khaslana decides to ignore him, continuing to adjust the blankets. When he is finally satisfied, he lies down with his back to Nanook, a small gap between their bodies.
Khaslana’s ears are pink.
Circling an arm around Khaslana’s waist, Nanook draws him in until they are snug. He isn’t prepared for the way Khaslana instantly goes lax in his arms, his scent sweetening with contentment. It’s laced through with embarrassment, Khaslana shifting in place.
Drawing in the complex cocktail of conflicted feelings, Nanook lightly releases his pheromones. He does it slowly; his alpha scent tends to get Khaslana’s hackles up. Gratifyingly, it has the intended effect this time. Khaslana’s breathing deepens, going completely boneless.
The honeyed sweetness of his boy’s contentment has the frustrations of the day dissipating away. Maybe the omegas are onto something with this nesting business. He has rarely felt so relaxed. “It’s nice. The nest.”
Khaslana scoffs but, this close, he can’t hide how pleased he is on hearing the approval, an extra bit of lushness to his scent.
Surrounded by comfort, Nanook’s eyes drift closed. He should shower…
He feels Khaslana playing with his fingers, tentative, then more bold when Nanook doesn’t comment. Gradually, Nanook drifts into a drowse. After a solid ten minutes, Khaslana stealthily turns in his arms, putting his nose in Nanook’s chest to scent him. He must think Nanook is asleep, nestling into his chest, clinging.
“I missed you,” Khaslana says, soft with yearning. He pushed the person away, but he has missed his father’s comfort, his warmth.
I missed you too, my boy.