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A few weeks into the 2024 winter break, Lewis wakes up feeling sick.
It’s not the first time this has happened over the course of a couple of days, but this morning, Lewis barely manages to pull himself out of Nico’s arms and stagger to the ensuite before he’s throwing up into the toilet, shoulders heaving with the effort. The room feels like it's spinning as he takes a deep breath, only for the nausea to bubble up again almost immediately, leaving him hunched over the toilet as he empties the contents of his stomach.
He feels gentle hands on his back and lets Nico’s familiar scent wash over him as he noses against the back of his neck comfortingly. Lewis presses into the soft touch when he feels like he’s finally stopped feeling sick, letting Nico wrap him up in his arms as he presses a kiss to his head.
“This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve woken up feeling sick. Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”
Lewis appreciated the concern, he really did, but he knew it wasn’t something the doctor could help with right now. He knew what was wrong the second Nico muttered that his scent had changed a few days ago. It was sweeter now, apparently. More floral. That paired with the sickness and the mood swings and the ache in his back could only mean one thing.
He was pregnant.
He was pregnant, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with that information. He and Nico had discussed pups not long after Monza, but they both agreed they would wait until Lewis had won his eighth world championship and retired before they’d start trying. He hadn’t even started his time at Ferrari yet. He was due in to the factory in a few days for pre season debriefs. He didn’t know what to do. It was obvious his birth control had failed, so it wasn’t like he’d planned this, but Nico had seemed so excited by the idea of pups that Lewis hadn’t had the heart to tell him when he took a test a few days ago, because he didn’t know if he was going to keep it yet.
He wanted to. God, did he want to. But he just couldn’t if he wanted to win another world championship. He wasn’t in a place where he could retire for a year and then find his way back to the sport. He was nearly forty. A pregnancy at his age was already risky, let alone if they waited any longer. He didn’t want to deprive Nico — or himself — of pups just because he refused to quit.
Nico pulled back slightly and Lewis saw him wrinkle his nose. He cursed internally, because of course his worrying would make his scent sour. Nico never stopped rubbing his back, but he put a bit of distance between them so he could look Lewis in the eye.
“You already know what’s wrong, don’t you?”
Lewis could only nod, because he’d never been able to lie to the person who knew him better than anyone else in the world.
“Are you… dying?”
Lewis stared at Nico, unimpressed, and Nico smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. There was something knowing about the action, and Lewis had to wonder why he ever thought he could hide something like this from Nico.
“Lew, if you’re not ready for this, you can tell me. You don’t need to hide it. Hell, your mating bite is still fresh. Pups are a big deal, and I don't want you to agree to something because you think you have to, only to regret it later. I’ve spent too many years with you resenting me, I can't risk it happening again.”
Lewis blinked, watching Nico for any sign that he was just saying what Lewis wanted to hear, but his face was open and honest and completely understanding.
“Next year. After I win, then we’ll start trying.”
Nico nodded, a soft, beautiful smile on his face.
“Next year.”