Stiles held his head high as he stumbled out of his Jeep, his tie snagging on a piece of metal sticking out of the door. Of course, he hadn't expected to be so clumsy right off the bat when arrived at Beacon Hills High School in the parking lot, but beggars can't be choosers. Especially not when their pregnant date was standing with her feet practically glued to the first step of the stairs leading inside with the most uncomfortable, loneliest expression known to the entirety of the human race. Oh, and especially not when she was wearing a stunning black, '20s style dress that hugged her petite form without accentuating all the spots that made her insecure.

He was shocked at how attentive he was, but straightened himself, his eyes fixed on Maryann, and loosened his tie from the metal it was caught on. Once free, he slammed the Jeep door and headed towards the stairs where his date was waiting.

He felt like such a dweeb wearing a snazzy suit, and even more so with Maryann dressed as she was. She looked like a dark, pregnant angel, her hair pulled into a smooth bun with a black band around her head. The kind of angel from another time, poised to steal your heart and force you to raise her kids. Stiles chuckled at that last bit, his steps growing more and more careful as he neared her. He wasn't at all upset by that fact, willfully aiding her in raising her unborn child, and was rather fond of the idea. And he loved her, anyway, so it wasn't really an issue to begin with.

Well, at first, it was, considering that the baby wasn't his. After all, who doesn't have a problem with raising another man's kid? In fact, he hated the idea. He wanted no part of it, no ifs, ands, or buts. And, no matter how hard he pushed against it, Maryann would always rebuttal with a, 'But the father wants nothing to do with us. How can I raise it on my own? You're my best friend, Stiles, and you're just going to let me do this alone? You said yourself that you'd never-' and then she'd cut herself off, the tears in her eyes always betraying her frustration, and leave him standing in the hallway at school. It wasn't fair on either side, but someone had to step up. She was right about that.

No matter how massively uncomfortable he was with the situation, his arguments had become weaker and weaker, and he forced himself to help her when she needed him most. In the space of two weeks, he'd become the adoptive father of the baby. The whole thing muddled his brain and he constantly had to shake his head to clear it when it came up.

But his eyes came to Maryann's and that cleared his inner conversations right up. The tiny glint of happiness in her eyes when she saw him gave him butterflies, his pace picking up immediately, and he nearly teetered into the table some school staff were attending. She was just so pretty he couldn't help it.

"Mare!" he said warmly, his voice loud and slightly shaky. He was a little nervous, seeing as how his date was all done-up and grinning at him like a wild cat about to pounce. His heartbeat rose.

"You made it, Stiles! Albeit, a tad late," she greeted, her gloved hand tightly wrapped around the railing of the stairs. She didn't seem all that surprised that he was late, as he himself hadn't realized that he was, and stepped down from her stair and closed the short distance between them (it was only a yard). "But you made it."

"It takes time to look this good, I tell you." He smiled and winked at her, his heart running laps in his chest and his belly aflutter.

Maryann giggled at him and rubbed her belly. She was only three-and-a-half months along now, so her bulge wasn't too noticeable under the fabric of her dress. Not that it was a bad thing. Stiles groaned inwardly. He was going to end up saying something awful, he just knew it.

"Do you wanna head inside?" she'd asked him, looking up at him with her misty eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Let's go. Lady's first," he stammered, gesturing for her to lead the way.

The music was loud but went to the tune of 'slow and romantic'. Everyone was dancing with their arms around one another, hips swaying and feet barely lifting off the ground, their faces only inches apart. Even Allison and Scott, whom Stiles spotted moments after he and Maryann entered the gym, were dancing together intimately. Too much closeness that he was missing out on.

Maryann was sitting down with a plastic cup of water in her hand, her eyes skimming the crowd. He knew she didn't like to dance as much, and that the only reason she even came was so she could have the option, but it left him feeling rather lonely as he sat across from her. He wanted to dance to the delicate music, place his hands on her hips and hold her close, maybe even kiss her while he was at it. That's what people did at dances, he thought. Profess their love and make out in a profane manner and get away with it. Right? God knew he wanted to.

So he gave it a shot. "Maryann."

Her eyes snapped away from the crowd of dancing students and narrowed in on him, an eyebrow arched. Quizzical. Man, this girl was expressive. "C-can we, uh, dance?"

"I don't like to dance," she said flatly, giving him an 'I'm almost disgusted' look. He knew that already, but they both needed to move around. It's good for her and the baby, he decided, and for him, too.

"Well, I do. Get up, Princess Wallflower. You don't even have to move that much. It's a freaking slow song," he grumbled, shooting up from his seat and towering over Maryann to add to the affect of his demand. But she didn't take and instead glared at him like he was a doofus, her head shaking from side to side. If he didn't love her, he probably would've attempted to throttle her by now. Well, not really, he couldn't do that, but oh boy.

"I don't like it," she said, emphasizing her accent with each syllable.

He frowned and grabbed her hand anyway, unable to understand her rejection of dancing. It wasn't all that bad. Yes, it was terribly awkward and everyone fumbled faster than they could be smooth. Yes, it was a little draining. Yes, it was really weird sometimes. But other than that, it had no other bad qualities and it could be really fun. And there were so many different kinds of dances so you didn't have to stick to just one. You could experiment and explore to see what was right for you. It was like picking houses. But Maryann just didn't like it, and there didn't appear to be any real reasons as to why.

She was going to dance, he decided.

"You can't sit there and drink water. This is prom!" He pulled her from her seat and put his hands on either side of her face, surprised at how short she really was in comparison to him, and held her there. "You're going to dance with me."

She shook her head and tried to sit back down, resisting his hands and fighting his grip, but he moved his hands all around: his left on her hip and his right latched onto her free hand. He was gentle at the very least, slowly urging her back with him to the crowded dance floor, and he gave her a small reassuring smile. He just wanted to dance with her.

"Fine," she muttered, her eyes dropping from his own to his collar. She pouted.

Victory exploded into his face and he helped her get into the sway of it all, gently pulling her closer to him. Just slowly step, step in a misshapen circle. She was so close to him, it was almost unbearable, but still he kept it going.