2k of heimsmont! this is split into two chunks, with one chunk being young max and nico, and the second chunk being lewis/nico and charles/max after graduation. winter markets and family time! gen, but lewis and charles are starting to have some concerns...
Nico secures the buttons at the top of Max's coat, checking to make sure his leather gloves are tugged securely up his fingers and hidden under his coat sleeves. Max purrs gently under his hands, watching him with wide eyes as Nico blows out a quick breath before standing. His own things are second nature— his gloves are the perfect amount of worn in, custom fit to his hands, and he adjusts his scarf around his neck before extending his hand down and wiggling his fingers.
A small hand finds his own, and Nico resists the urge starting to nestle in his chest, the one demanding that he pick up his puppy and just carry him to the car down the path. Max has two working legs, and it's good that he uses them. He holds his puppy's hand a little tighter just in case, giving a small smile to the beta who swings open the car door for the backseat.
Now he crouches down, arms wrapping around Max to lift him into the car, watching attentively as Max fits the seatbelt before he walks around the back of the car, stepping up into his side. The winter market is just under an hour away, and he'd selected it as one of the excursions for him and Max this year. He knows the locals always do a beautiful job, glittering lights strung up between buildings and stalls full of goods, and he's hoping to find some handmade kitchenware to add to their dorm.
Max leans towards his window, trying to see out the glass, and Nico sharpens his scent slightly as he grabs his pup by the back of the collar and tugs him back into his seat, raising a brow when Max looks at him with the beginnings of a frown.
"Fix your face, Max. You can see perfectly well from your seat."
His pup's frown disappears as his scent smooths over— it's a bit rough still, a disjointed transition that's too easy to notice, but it's better than it had been a few months ago, thanks to the constant reminders from Nico.
His pup has a bit of a stubborn streak, and Nico's found that it helps more to direct the stubbornness in another directions rather than try to eliminate it entirely. In this case, it means he catches Max glancing sideways a few times, trying to get a better view out the window.
Nico pulls his handwritten list out of his pocket, glancing across the lines again, making sure he hadn't missed anything.
-new glass lampshade for downstairs nesting space
-hand bound leather journal
He refolds the list and tucks it back into his pocket, watching Max for a moment. His nose, cheeks, and ears get red in the cold, no matter how thick of a scarf Nico wraps around him. Even two layers of complete cashmere hadn't been enough the eliminate the rosy flush.
Max looks over at him, scent shifting to milky sweet softness, the typical scent of a pup to their dame. Nico reaches over, brushing his index finger down Max's nose with a small tap, watching his eyes crinkle up as he grins.
Max's nose wrinkles with concentration, but his sent evens out a moment later, wobbly and unpracticed. Nico rewards him with a quiet purr.
He has a hard time being strict with Max— his puppy is too little and sweet, eager to learn and sensitive to even the subtle changes in Nico's own scent.
He knows he's not supposed to spoil Max too much, but they get a bit more leeway in the first few years with their pups, so he's already resigned himself to carrying him through the market, looking forward to how he knows Max will be entranced by the lights.
It'll be a good moment for Max to look back on when he's older and Nico is gone, or even when Heimsmont gives him a pup of his own.
Nico pulls off his glove to reach over and scent Max, wrist brushing against his cheeks before he slides the leather back on. Not that anything would happen to either of them— Heimsmont would never let them be endangered like that— but the idea that people at the market will be able to tell they're pup and dame warms his chest. Sometimes he manages to forget that Max isn't biologically his, that he isn't Max's original dame.
He's his pup's dame in the ways that matter, here and now, and he's who Max will remember as he gets older, and even when he's graduated Heimsmont and in a pack of his own. It's why Nico wants to make precious memories like this one, before Max is old enough to feel the sharper edges of the school.
Max purrs carefully at him, a sweet puppy purr, and Nico lets his scent soften around them. It's easier in the private car with a divider between them and the driver up front.
Like this, in their own bubble, he could almost pretend like he's a graduated omega, and Max is one of his pack pups.
Lewis winces. It's Nico's what-the-fuck-are-you-wearing voice, soft and steady, entirely innocent sounding, and it's never a good sign.
He turns back to bedroom to see his mate standing in the doorway, scarf looped over one arm, wearing a winter coat that Lewis thinks might be worth the entirety of his last points bonus. He notices the issue immediately.
Nico is wearing blue, and Lewis is wearing green.
His mate's scent doesn't give anything away, but Lewis has learned over the years the tiny intricacies that mean annoyance, and he knows that this afternoon is more important to Nico than many of their other events.
Nico is in lighter shades of blue, so Lewis will go with navy and cream, something that keeps them matching without being completely identical.
It's at least better than the green.
When he steps back out of their bedroom again, Nico's scent softens with a quiet purr.
Lewis steps forward, brushing his wrist along Nico's neck and wrapping his arms around him, projecting his scent until he feels Nico start to relax.
"It'll be alright, Nico."
Nico huffs, but he doesn't pull away.
"What if he doesn't remember?"
Lewis rumbles at him, trying his best to soothe the uncharacteristic anxiety. He's only ever seen Nico anxious when it comes to Franz— or Max, technically— but then again, if he'd reunited with a pup of his own after not seeing each other for years, he'd be even more anxious. It's a testament to the Heimsmont education that Nico is as composed as he is at all.
"Then you'll make new memories."
Max and Charles are easy to spot at the winter market, considering Charles is trying to give a reindeer a carrot, and Max is watching on fondly, seemingly unconcerned as the reindeer tries to eat Charles' hair.
Nico's scent sweetens next to him, and Lewis opens his mouth to call out to them. He doesn't need to, because Max glances up and spots Nico, mouth curving into a grin as he and Lewis walk over. Nico immediately pulls the other omega into a hug, their scents curling together, and Lewis steps over to clap Charles on the shoulder.
"Pretty sure you're supposed to let him eat the carrot, man, not you."
Charles brightens when he realizes who's speaking to him, pulling Lewis into a hug as well.
"Lewis! Yes, I was trying to give him the carrot, but he is seeming to like my hair better."
Lewis takes the carrot, snapping it in half before offering one piece to reindeer, watching fondly as it disappears out of his hand.
"We should bring the McLaren boys here and see what happens."
Charles covers his abrupt laugh with a cough, turning his head away as Lewis grins.
"They will call that sabotage, I think."
Lewis shrugs, looking back over at their mates. Nico is peeking under Max's scarf at his mating bite, and Charles shifts nervously next to him.
"Hamilton, mate, your omega is terrifying."
Lewis bites back a grin, but his own scent takes on a warm tinge of fondness.
Charles glances sideways at him.
Max and Nico step back over, and Lewis can catalogue the similarities— they have the same leather winter gloves, the only brand that Nico will buy each winter, and Max wraps and tucks his scarf the same way that Nico does, the excess resting on the left side.
Nico doesn't immediately tear Charles a new one, which is a surefire sign that he approves of the bite, and Max steps forward to politely let Lewis scent him, wrists brushing together. They've started to form their own little pack, and Lewis can't believe how large of a difference he's seen in his mate now that his pup is back in his life.
Max brushes his shoulder against Nico's before looking over at Charles, voice still carrying that unplaceable accent that Lewis has found all Heimsmont omegas have.
"Nico took me here when I was younger once."
Nico very nearly doesn't get control of his scent fast enough— a quick snap of dame scent and deep fondness slips through before it's back to a casual scent, but Max's lips twitch upwards as he glances over at the older omega.
"Yes, I remember it. It was beautiful."
He pauses, eyes sparkling.
"Especially because you carried me everywhere."
For Max to be small enough to carry, it must have been before Heimsmont. Lewis tries not to pry about the timeline of Nico and his pup, even if it keeps him awake at night sometimes.
Nico lets out a soft purr, reaching out to adjust Max's scarf.
"That is the only time I did that."
Max makes a so-so motion with his hand.
"You carried me when I was sick as well."
"Quit spilling my secrets."
Nico takes a step toward the market, Max right at his side, and Lewis and Charles fall in slightly behind them, content to let their mates lead the way through the market. Lewis waits until the two omegas are discussing a purchase in a stall together before he looks over at Charles thoughtfully.
"Do you know when Nico had him?"
Charles' mouth twists in a frown.
"Non. Max is very cagey about it, every time I try and ask we somehow end up talking about something else."
"Nico is the same way. I don't want to pry, it's just— they're not that far apart. And they were separated so long. He had a bag for the first few years I knew him, and it had vacuum sealed scented items from Max."
Charles furrows his brows, head quirking to the side.
"What? Max has a bag like that. I've never seen him open any of them though."
That's... odd. There's no way to look at it that isn't odd, and Lewis isn't sure how he feels about it.
Charles looks at him, and he can tell he's thinking the same thing. At the same time, he can tell they've both reached identical conclusions— no matter how they ask, they're not getting a straight answer.
His gaze drifts back to their mates, shoulder to shoulder as they discuss the difference between one handmade nesting blanket and another, both so clearly pleased to be spending time together, and tries to push down the unease he can feel settling in his gut.
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