March
The first couple of weeks pass by almost in a blur of doctor visits, referrals, and more consultations than Stiles is strictly comfortable with. Mostly because they all involve traveling at least a couple of hours by car, and, well, Stiles gets bored in the car easily. The doctor he's had since he was fifteen, Dr. Sanders, is only a family practitioner, though, not an OB-GYN. As soon as Stiles' blood tests confirm what the pack (and the best drug-store pee stick fifteen dollars could buy) already told him, though, she recommends that he be placed under the care of a doctor that specializes in high-risk pregnancies.
Derek's hand tightens on his knee when Dr. Sanders starts using words like 'high-risk'. He relaxes a little when she reassures him that all of Stiles' tests look fabulous so far (she can't quite keep the note of surprise out of her voice), but male pregnancies are always treated as high-risk, just in case. Not much, but a little.
Dr. Sanders sends them home with a list of 'Do's and Do-Not's' that Lydia immediately snatches out of Stiles' hands when they get back to the house. Within two hours, every pack member has a laminated copy, with extras taped onto the refrigerator door, the inside of every bathroom medicine chest, and the top of Stiles' dresser. He glares accusingly at Derek at the last one. Nobody enters their bedroom without permission, so either Derek let Lydia do it, or he did it himself.
Derek looks unrepentant.
They meet with several doctors off of Dr. Sanders' list of referrals, eventually finding an office with an excellent reputation about an hour and a half away from Beacon Hills. The staff is warm and welcoming, the doctor gives off an aura of calm competence, and (most importantly), they've had experience with male pregnancies—though Stiles will be the first man on their patient roster this year. Stiles gets a good feeling as soon as he enters the office, though, and Dr. Evers manages to impress Derek by answering every question the man has without missing a beat, and refusing to sugar-coat any of the risks that Stiles and the baby might face. By the end of the consultation, both he and Derek are confident in choosing Evers as their doctor.
It will mean bi-weekly trips all the way out to his office for checkups…but they both think it's worth it. The little thrill that races through Stiles when they make the appointment for their first ultrasound is hard to describe.
As he had predicted, the others back off a little now that Derek's back. Oh, they still hover…it's been a while since everyone spent this much time at the Hale house, but at least nobody tries to kick him out of the kitchen anymore (though that might have something to do with the fact that if they didn't let Stiles cook, likely they'd be living on sandwiches and takeout until the baby was born). They still refuse to let him do anything even remotely resembling 'heavy-lifting,' of course, but Stiles is only too glad to relinquish his rotations in the dishes-laundry-vacuuming duty roster.
As the month draws to a close, though, everyone starts tensing up again. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd start circling in closer. Lydia and Jackson barely spend any time at all at the apartment they share in town. His and Derek's bedroom and the bathroom are pretty much the only places Scott doesn't follow him, and Derek…Derek starts looking pained whenever he thinks Stiles isn't looking. No one says anything, though, and it's not until Stiles sees Lydia sitting at the dining room table with a stack of work for one of her classes that he realizes what everyone's so riled up about.
His spring break is almost over.
He supposes he can be forgiven for not realizing the date, what with the whole discovering he's going to be responsible for another human/werewolf life thing…but yeah, he's supposed to be back at school in a few days.
And it's not like he's on the other side of the country or anything. He commutes to school—about a forty five minute drive from Beacon Hills—and he only has three classes this semester, so he actually only has to go to class four days a week. He'll be home before the sun even goes down on all those days.
He doesn't go to the same campuses as Lydia, Scott, Jackson, or Boyd though. Erica and Isaac take online courses, but it's not like it's fair to them to ask them to take up bodyguard duty. They can't follow him into his classes, anyway. Derek works down at a garage in town—more to have something to do other than sit around and look like a cult leader than out of any real need for the money. Stiles knows the thought of him walking around alone on campus made Derek a little uncomfortable before. Now, though? The thought has to be driving Derek nuts.
He can just picture Derek keeping himself up at night, imagining Stiles suddenly finding himself the target of rogue Omegas, Hunters breaking the Code, or one of the other various and sundry supernatural beasties they've faced over the years, with no one from the pack to back him up. It's ridiculous. It's paranoid. Given their history, it's…
Not all that unreasonable an assumption. Damn it.
And here's the thing: he knows that Derek and the others trust him to take care of himself. It's hard for them sometimes, but Stiles has proven himself a hundred times over and everyone knows that. He knows Derek doesn't see him as weak…none of them see him as weak. He also knows that their protective instincts are going haywire, and if he was actually a werewolf his own instincts would be screaming at him to stick close to home-pack-mate. He knows it must be tying Derek in knots to let Stiles go back to school alone, to let him out of the pack's sight even those few hours a day. That he's willing to do it at all is testament to how much he trusts Stiles, how much he loves Stiles.
He's got one more semester to go before he graduates with his Bachelor's. He's not deferring his graduation for another year. Jackson can make as many snide comments as he wants, Stiles is not actually a 50's housewife and has no interest in being someone who puts all their career plans and schooling on hold to be barefoot and pregnant. But…
Oh hell, it's not like he didn't know what he was getting into when he got wolf-married to the Alpha of their pack.
Stiles sits on the back deck with his laptop during training that morning and starts emailing his professors and his academic advisor.
The next night, he sits up in bed, his laptop balanced on his knees, and waits for Derek to slide into bed next to him. He smiles as Derek winds one around his waist, pressing his cheek against the jut of Stiles' hip.
"What're you looking at?" he asks curiously, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at the laptop's screen. Stiles doesn't answer, just turns the computer around so Derek can see it without craning his neck. Derek's brow furrows as he sees Stiles' school email screen pulled up, then his eyes widen slightly as he starts reading through the email Stiles' advisor had sent back to him.
"What is this?" Derek asks softly, and Stiles rolls his eyes a little.
"It's an email, duh. More specifically, it's an email saying that all my professors are willing to let me finish out my courses through correspondence so I don't have to do so much commuting. I still have to go to senior seminar, but Professor Jameson agreed to let me switch into her Friday class. And she's pretty chill, so you know, if someone were to happen to come to class with me, she wouldn't care. You know anyone who has Fridays free?"
In fact, Derek always has Fridays off.
Tension has been leaving Derek's shoulders with every word Stiles speaks, and by the time he's finished, Derek is shaking his head fondly, arm tightening around Stiles' waist. "You didn't have to do this," he says.
Stiles closes the laptop, running his fingers through Derek's hair with his free hand. "Oh trust me, pregnant or not, if you think I'm going to let you railroad me into doing something I don't want to do…you haven't been paying attention these past few years." He sets the laptop on his nightstand and wiggles under the comforter, letting Derek wrap himself around him. "However, in this particular instance, I don't mind indulging you."
Derek chuckles, a sound that Stiles still treasures for all that it's slowly become more and more common over the years. "That's very magnanimous of you." He sobers almost immediately though, rolling them so that Stiles is laying half on top of his chest. Stiles settles comfortably, crossing his arms over Derek's collarbones and pillowing his chin on top of them. He tilts a questioning eyebrow as Derek reaches up to cradle the back of his skull with one hand, his thumb stroking the nape of Stiles' neck. "Thank you," Derek says, voice low and graveled.
Stiles stretches forward to kiss him lightly, affectionately, before grinning…just a touch maniacally. "You just remember this when I'm kicking you awake at three in the morning to go get me pickles and ice cream," he says brightly.
He laughs as Derek's expression seems to freeze. "That…that doesn't actually happen, does it?" he asks warily, and Stiles can only laugh harder at the half wary, half disgusted look on Derek's face. He reaches up and pats Derek's cheek mockingly.
"Nah, according to Dad, my mom never once asked him for pickles and ice cream," he says. Derek looks almost comically relieved, and Stiles' grin turns wicked.
"She wanted chocolate pudding and General Tso's chicken."
