Marahil ang "Tayo" sa Hinaharap ay Higit pa sa Ating Dalawa Lamang.
Basilio wakes up to a pungent rotting smell, Isagani couldn't figure it out yet.
Pairing: Alpha Basilio/Enigma Isagani
Tags: fluff, a/b/o dynamics,romance,mpreg...idk
author's note: i'm gonna be fully honest ive never written a fanfic, I only write random stories and thats all I do. I was just really sad that these two never gets much fics or art so yeah(ᵕ ˶•́﹏•̀˶ )
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The kitchen glowed with the warmth of the wooden stove while Isagani stood over the pan, carefully turning thin slices of tapa. He had spent months learning how Basilio liked it: not too sweet, not too salty, just enough garlic to linger after every bite. Basilio would often praise and also let him know what he could add, but he always finished every morsel.
Today, Isagani hoped it would be no different.
He arranged the meal neatly on the table. Isagani serves the tapa he's perfected over months.
Basilio takes one step into the dining room.
Isagani blinks. "...The cow?"
Basilio let out short chuckle "No. In this house."
When Basilio walked closer to the dining table the stench became stronger, almost insufferable to him and it came from the… tapa?
"I think something may have happened to it."
Isagani looked surprised.
Basilio hesitated "…Is it spoiled?"
Isagani hurried to the table, leaned over the dish, and inhaled…It smelled exactly as it always had.
Despite it, Basilio still tried to eat, as Isagani was trying to figure out what the problem was. Even a helper smelled and tasted it, but nothing seemed spoiled—just perfectly cooked tapa. The helper even tried to get another bite, while Isagani caught on quickly.
Basilio chewed carefully and swallowed, while pinching his nose—of course the smell was strong enough for him to gag slightly and still swallowed.
"There's really no need to-"
"Its a waste of good beef."
Isagani pulled his husband's plate away "Doesn't matter, you're not eating it, I'll have someone make another dish… sorry"
"So early, and someone is apologizing already?" TíoFlorentino entered, carrying a satchel over one shoulder. His smile faltered as he noticed the untouched breakfast and the strange expressions on their faces.
"Tío, could you try smelling and tasting this? just checking if its spoiled or not." Isagani held the plate of tapa walking close to the older man.
"I would happily take two servings of thi-"
His words cut off by the loud drag of the old dining chair and Basilio running out to the near backdoor of hacienda to vomit outside.
"If the food was fine… then the problem wasn't the food" Basilio thought to himself, he apologized to the two men as he walked back to wash himself at the sink no fever, no abdominal pain other than the nausea. Basilio remained unusually quiet. He sorted through possibilities as though reviewing a patient's symptoms instead of his own. Spoiled food seemed unlikely now. The smell alone had unsettled him and this was not the first morning it had happened, but today was unusually stronger.
Isagani poured him some water and rubbed his back gently.
Florentino observed the situation.
"Has this happened before?"
"No, Tío… the vomiting—no…"
"Theres a nearby physician, just across the main plaza."
Isagani gently fixed Basilio, he frowned with concern but did not press him.
Instead, he looked the kitchen.
"Tell the cooks to put on a pot of lugaw."
A maid bowed. "Yes, Señor."
"Plain," he added. "No meat, no spices. If Señor Basilio can eat later, it should be the first thing offered to him."
Once the maid departed, Isagani gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from Basilio's face.
"We'll see the physician first," he said quietly. "You need not worry about anything, dear.."
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On the way to the physician Isagani's eyes stayed on Basilio tired body… he might've been the cause of that knowing himself well enough… Basilio had needs as an alpha and he was there to give him the world if he asks.
The physician's residence was a modest but well-kept house just across the main plaza. A small garden surrounded the entrance, filled with medicinal plants and flowers tended by the household.
An assistant opened the door after Isagani knocked.
"Good morning. We require the physician's assistance."
The servant looked between the two men.
"No," Isagani answered quickly. "He is unwell."
The assistant guided them in.
"Please wait." They entered a small waiting room lined with shelves of books and bottles of herbs. The scent of medicine and spices filled the air.
Basilio looked at Isagani, his head down.
Isagani turned toward him.
"You said that at the hacienda."
"I am used to being able to endure things."
"Then why does it feel as though I am failing?"
Isagani answered quietly. "Because you are trying to endure something you do not understand."
Before Basilio could respond, the door opened. An elderly who still held himself high hair had turned silver, and fine lines marked his face from years of work.
His eyes move from Basilio's pale expression to Isagani's concerned one.
"Which of you is the patient?"
Basilio raised his hand slightly.
Basilio obeyed while Isagani remained beside him.
The physician took his seat across from them and opened his notebook. "Tell me what brings you here?"
Basilio hesitated. "I became ill this morning."
"Just this morning?" The doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Several days…" Basilio said his voice lower and looking away from Isagani knowing full well he hadn't told the man anything about it.
"I have been tired for several weeks as well."
"Any changes besides fatigue?"
"Some days I cannot eat. Most of it because of the smell."
"I am constantly hungry."
The physician set his notebook aside and stepped closer to Basilio.
Basilio nodded quietly and followed the instruction.
The physician approached the examination table with practiced calm. He carefully placed one hand against Basilio's abdomen, pressing gently while watching his expression.
"Tell me if there is any pain."
The physician examined one area, then another.
The physician continued in silence, his attention focused entirely on the examination. His movements were careful and deliberate, not rushed. He pressed lightly across Basilio's stomach, checking for any sign of swelling, discomfort, or illness.
Basilio remained still, though he looked slightly nervous.
"Is something wrong, Doctor?"
The physician did not answer immediately.
He studied Basilio's abdomen once more, his expression becoming more thoughtful.
The physician paused, his hand resting gently as he considered what he was finding.
He had expected signs of a stomach disorder: An infection? An irritation?
Something that would explain the sudden vomiting, but there was no sign of those things.
Instead, the physician noticed something that made him grow quiet. He eyes stayed observant and on the patient's stomach, but he spoke to the restless man by the waiting chairs.
The physician gave a slow nod.
"Have you noticed any changes in him besides what he has already described?"
Isagani frowned, searching his memory.
"He has been sleeping more."
"I thought it was from work."
"He has become... quieter."
"I have always been quiet."
The physician made a small note.
"...He no longer finishes his meals."
"I have not been hungry."
"You woke me two nights ago because you wanted mangoes."
"And yesterday you ate enough rice for three people."
"You just said you weren't."
The physician's lips twitched with amusement.
His pencil scratched across the paper.
"Anything unusual about smells?"
Isagani answered immediately.
"Just this morning, his favorite breakfast nearly made him faint."
"It smelled perfectly fine," Isagani replied gently.
The physician nodded as though confirming something to himself.
The doctors circled back to the tenderness by his abdomen, he already had a good lead to his conclusion he just needed to confirm…
"Whens the last the time you two have been sexually active?"
Isagani didn't even consider the question completely he answered as if it was asked him in a routine. "Frequently."
Basilio frowned. "Aligns with what?"
The physician looked directly at him.
"I believe you're expecting. Your abdomen is soft. There is no rigidity, no swelling, and no sign of inflammation."
He placed his hand over Basilio's lower abdomen. He paused, reaching for a stethoscope its diaphragm on his skin.
"At this stage, there is no obvious size change. Nothing I could simply point to and say, "there it is",but the tissues feel slightly different. There is a subtle fullness and a change in the usual firmness of the lower abdomen."
The physician finished writing his final notes and closed the notebook.
"For now, I would like you to avoid exhausting yourself," he said. "Continue eating what you can tolerate. Rest when your body asks for it. And return for another appointment so we can monitor your condition properly."
Basilio adjusted his clothing and sat quietly for a moment, still processing everything he had heard.
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Outside, the plaza was alive with its usual morning activity. People passed by carrying baskets, merchants called out their goods, and the distant sound of footsteps echoed against the stone paths. Yet for Basilio, everything felt strangely quiet. Isagani walked beside him, not rushing, not asking questions.
The physician's words had followed them out the door: "Expecting".
The possibility still felt strange.
Basilio had spent years studying the human body, treating others, understanding symptoms before they became serious. Yet when it came to himself, he had ignored every sign until his own body forced him to pay attention.
Isagani walked beside him without asking questions, The occasional glance. The careful pace. The way Isagani stayed close without making it seem like he was being watched.
"A little." Basilio looked away.
"You hide it poorly." A small smile appeared on Isagani's face. "And you hide everything else too well."
Isagani let him up the carriage before he followed in and observed him. Even at the rough patches of the road, he stayed quiet, fingers intertwined slowly, a familiar touch that carried more reassurance than words. The enigma's thumb brushed gently over his husband's knuckles. The carriage moved steadily toward the hacienda, the afternoon light passing through its curtains.
"You are thinking about the baby."
Isagani's thumb moved gently over his fingers.
That had never been a question. They had talked about it during quiet evenings, imagined what their child would be like, and wondered whether they would inherit Isagani's warmth or Basilio's stubbornness. They just had not expected it to happen after all those nights where they had only wanted to be close to each other.
A small smile crossed Basilio's face.
"We were never very patient."
The amusement faded into something softer. Their happiness was there, but so was the responsibility.
A child was not only a dream. It was a life that would depend on them.
Isagani looked at him carefully.
"You will have to rest more."
"And stop pretending you are unaffected when you are tired."
"That one will be difficult."
"What do you think Tío would say?"
"He would probably tell us that we have more love in this house than we know what to do with."
