Work Text:
Diane hated Fridays.
She hadn't always hated them. She used to quite like Fridays. She had a great schedule - just one group class in the morning, and a few private lessons, and then she was done by two so she could visit friends for the weekend, or take trips with her husband. Then Allison Argent-McCall got pregnant. More specifically, Allison signed up for Diane’s Friday morning lamaze class, along with her husband Scott and their best friend Stiles.
Diane wasn’t sure why it was necessary for Stiles to come along. At their first class she introduced herself and said, “You know, normally it’s just the parents who come to these things...” and Stiles had interrupted her breezily saying, “No worries. I’m just here for moral support. I won’t get in the way.”
Lies. Flat out lies.
Well no, that’s not quite fair. Diane likes to be fair, and it isn’t really just Stiles who’s the problem. It’s Stiles and Scott and Allison, and she can’t kick them out, so she just has to deal with it. Stiles is apparently incapable of doing the centering breathing exercises that are so crucial to relaxation during the birthing process, Scott is great at being comforting and affectionate but he has a tendency to overreact to everything, Allison can't stop laughing at the two of them, and all three of them seem to have some sort of running joke that no one else in the group is able to recognize. The biggest hassle was rearranging all of her activities for an odd number of people.
She opened the supply closet, and groaned when she saw the empathy bellies. She was not looking forward to that class at all.
---
Allison had told Stiles that he didn’t have to go to the birthing classes, but he’d insisted that he wanted to. “Together, right? I’m here for you, even if the pup isn’t mine.”
Allison chuckled and kissed him on the nose. “Thanks, love. Do you think we should close the office on Friday mornings, or get someone to cover the phone?”
Stiles scrubbed a hand through his hair and leaned back precariously in his chair. “Hire someone I guess. We’ll have to when you go on maternity leave anyway. I wish Derek’s kids were older; we could literally pay them in cookies.”
“I’ll put an ad out,” said Allison, jotting a note to herself. She was looking forward to a nice long leave, and business at Argent Arms was going well enough that she couldn’t leave Stiles to run things on his own.
Allison was so focused on trying to find someone competent, and with a clean police record, who also got along with Stiles, that she completely forgot about the birthing classes. She didn’t remember until Thursday at dinner, when Scott said, “I got the morning off work tomorrow. Deaton said he’d be fine, though he did promise to leave all the awful jobs until the afternoon.”
“Oh. Right,” she said with a frown. “I forgot about that.”
“How could you forget about the all important baby classes?” Stiles joked. “I know I’m looking forward to it. I hope we get to wear one of those fake bellies.”
“Oh God,” Allison laughed. “I knew I shouldn’t have signed you up too.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you in front of the other moms.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Stiles,” said Scott, smacking him on the side of the head with a wooden spoon.
“I keep all my promises, Scott. All of them.”
Scott gave him a look, and Stiles blew him a kiss. Allison shook her head and finished setting the table.
---
Scott was taking his empathy belly very seriously - stroking and talking to it (“I think I’ll name him Carlos.”). Stiles was not.
He poked at the fake stomach and snorted. “Dude,” he said in an undertone, “what if guys actually could get pregnant? Or like, what if Scott had knocked both of us up? Some weird wolf shit or whatever.”
Scott made a face and curled his hands protectively over his belly. “Watch the language around Carlos, man. It’s not good for him.”
“Real baby over here,” said Allison, trying not to laugh.
“Oh yeah! Her too!”
They still hadn’t settled on a name. Victoria had come up and been promptly dropped. Melissa had been tossed around for awhile until Scott’s mom heard about it and flatly forbade it (“One Melissa McCall is enough awesome for the world, thank you.”). Allison thought about asking Stiles if they could use his mom’s name, but she kept going back on forth on whether that would be appreciated or unwelcome.
For the time being they just called the baby ‘Baby,’ or ‘Princess,’ or ‘Little One.’ When she was kicking particularly vigorously - usually near the full moon, and Allison loudly blamed Scott, and Derek, and Peter for that added joy of pregnancy - in the privacy of her own head, Allison called the baby her Little Monster.
The real baby was being nice and quiet right now, possibly she was rendered just as speechless as her mother by the sight of Scott and Stiles waddling around with huge fake stomachs. The fake babies were causing plenty of trouble. Scott had no problem with the weight of course, but it was throwing him off-balance. He kept listing to one side, over-correcting the belly, and then leaning the other way. Stiles was having difficulty standing up straight, and he kept complaining about the weight (“Scoooottt, I think you got a lighter one. Let’s trade.”). Allison was trying not to laugh so hard she fell off the yoga ball she was perched on.
“Look at these idiots, Little One,” she murmured. “Sorry I’ve saddled you with them. We’ll get through it together. Somehow,” she added, as Scott fell over.
“So basically, I’ve always known you could kick my ass,” said Stiles, falling into a chair next to her, “But this exercise has proved it. I have no idea how you’re carrying a tiny person around inside you all the time.”
“It’s because of my mad hunter skills,” she replied, flicking his nose.
“You’re not kidding.” He tugged at the straps until he managed to undo them, and took the belly off. “I give up. Scott’s the real dad. I’ll let him do the ‘joyous sharing experience’.”
Allison looked at Stiles sharply. “You don’t really think that, right?”
“Huh?”
“That Scott’s the real dad. I mean, biologically, yes, but you’re both - I mean. I want both of you in my life, in her life. I know Scott does too. We can’t do this without you, Stiles.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’”
“I wish it was socially acceptable to kiss you right now.”
“Save it for later. Let’s get back to the ‘joyous sharing experience’ of watching Scott make a fool of himself.”
“You mean, all the time?”
Allison really did almost fall off the yoga ball that time.
---
Allison was going to write a pamphlet: The Perks of Being Married to a Werewolf. Scott’s hands were better than an epidural. He couldn’t do his pain removal thing too often of course, or the doctor might notice, so it still hurt, but he was feeling it with her. Stiles was on her other side, holding her hand and doing the breathing exercises that he’d never been able to focus on in class. She smiled as the next contraction hit. She could do this. They could do this.
---
Melissa had abused her privileges as a nurse to get into the nursery and see her grandbaby after hours. She picked up the perfect little girl and rocked her gently. “Hey there, little one. Look at you. Boys are gonna have the hardest time trying to date you,” she whispered.
The baby gurgled sleepily and Melissa could feel her heart melting.
Someone tapped lightly on the glass and she looked up guiltily. It was a police officer, but she wasn’t too worried.
“Hello Sheriff,” she said, cracking the door open.
“Is that her?” he asked instantly.
“Yeah. Want to meet her?”
Melissa let John into the room and placed the baby in his arms.
“I forgot how tiny they start out,” he murmured, stroking the soft down on her head.
“Yeah. Were you looking for me for a reason, or did you just want to bust me for illegal cuddling?”
He laughed softly and tucked the baby back in. “I wanted to show you something almost as cute as this little one.”
He took her back to the room where Scott and Allison, and apparently Stiles, were spending the night. Allison was curled up on her side, looking tired but pleased with herself even in sleep. Scott was curled around her like a shield, one hand settled over her heart. Stiles was in a chair beside them, but his head was pillowed on his arms on the side of the hospital bed. Melissa slipped John’s phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
“If this baby’s anything like Scott was, this is the last sleep they’ll be getting for a while.”
John laughed. “I was going to get a coffee with Chris Argent. Care to join us?”
“Love to.”