Work Text:
15 weeks, 4 days
It had started the week before, the whispering.
It was her fault, really; she made the stupid mistake of bringing a pregnancy book to class instead of one of her law books. That combined with the fact that her little bump was finally beginning to show, well...they were bound to start talking eventually. It was never anything Laurel couldn't handle (despite what she told Michaela she really wasn't that popular in high school, she was used to bullies), but still. She was already over it.
Which is why she was on high alert when she heard people behind her whispering. And sure enough,
“I mean how dumb do you have to be to get knocked up during law school?”
“At least now we know what actually goes on in that house.”
Laurel whipped her head around just in time to see two girls she’d actually considered nice stop talking abruptly and hastily get out their laptops.
God, it was like they wanted her to hear them.
She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Nothing good would come of calling out these assholes. So instead she threw them a sickeningly sweet smile and turned back to her desk. She checked her watch and sighed.
It was 9:03am and she was so ready for the day to be over.
--
Her other lectures were, thankfully, whisper free. And after spending a few hours working on her Evidence outline, Laurel was finally headed home. She was exhausted. And starving.
After finding out she was pregnant Laurel had basically been sick non-stop for eight weeks. She survived on rice, grapefruit, and orange Gatorade, the only three things she tried that didn't make her vom the second they touched her tonguue. But about a week ago she finally turned the corner, and now she was always. So. Hungry.
She was about to text Wes, to ask him pick up dinner, but before she even grabbed her phone it started to ring.
“Please tell me you got dinner,” she said in greeting.
“Hello to you too,” said Wes, clearly smiling through the phone. Laurel sighed.
“Hi, sorry. It's been a long day. And I'm hungry.”
“It’s okay. But yes, I have food. It's in the oven as we speak. Where are you?”
“About ten minutes away from my place.”
“Our place,” Wes corrected patiently. Laurel smiled. He'd moved into her apartment at the beginning of the semester. Laurel’s memory had diminished to the size of a goldfish lately, but every time she remembered she got excited all over again.
“Our place,” she agreed, smiling to herself.
“But that's perfect,” he continued. “Food should be ready by the time you get home, I just wanted to make sure. I’ll see you soon!”
“Wait what’d you-- ?” Laurel began, but the line went dead.
Damn it, Wes.
What if he got Chinese? Or something with mushrooms? Or ranch? Or something else that she couldn't eat?
She was going to kill him. Or eat him. At this point cannibalism wasn't completely out of the question.
--
By the time she got to her apartment, she was fuming.
Was it rational? Probably not. But she needed food. Pronto. Rational thinking was long gone.
She huffed up the stairs and barged into the apartment.
“Wes Gibbins...” she started. But upon entering the living room she stopped in her tracks, her anger completely gone in an instant.
The lights were off, and there was a small bouquet of peonies on the coffee table, along with a bunch of mismatched candles and all eight Harry Potter movies. Someone had also hung Christmas lights around the window, covered the couch in every blanket they owned, and placed her favorite old Brown t-shirt and plaid pajama pants on top.
Also something smelled divine.
“You rang?”
Laurel turned to see Wes leaning against the doorway, smiling. She had tears in her eyes.
“I thought we weren't doing Valentine's Day?” she asked, although she was grinning like an idiot.
“Well technically,” Wes made his way over to where Laurel was standing, “it's the day after Valentine’s. So I didn't break any rules,” he reasoned. He took her hand and pulled her body to his, her growing belly creating a small space between them. “Besides, it's really not much. I just figured we could use a break from school. And work. We don't have to watch all of them, of course, but I didn't know which was your favorite...”
Laurel took his face into her hands and locked his brown eyes onto her blue. “I love it,” she said, kissing him softly. “And for the record, 3rd movie, 7th book. No question,” she smiled as she continued. “Now, what’s for dinner because your girl is hungry and it smells like heaven.”
Wes laughed as he took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “Well, seeing as your favorite foods right now are anything acidic and anything with carbs, I combined the two and got pineapple pizza and garlic bread,” he said, pointing to the food warming in the oven. “But just in case that didn't work I made some rice, too. And, for dessert, our own pints of mint chocolate chip,” he finished, opening the freezer to reveal the two separate containers of ice cream. Laurel kissed him again before making her way to the oven.
“I have never loved you more than I do right now,” she said to Wes as she pulled the pizza out of the oven, eyeing it the way predators stalk their prey. She took a piece and sank her teeth into it. A moan, an audible moan actually escaped her lips. “Oh my god, you're amazing.”
Wes smiled and grabbed his own piece. “Thank you,” he responded. Laurel looked up.
“Oh I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the pizza, my true love.”
“Of course, let me just give the two of you some privacy,” he smirked, heading into the living room. Despite her budding romance, Laurel followed.
Wes grabbed Prizoner of Azkaban off the table and popped it in while Laurel changed into her pajamas and got under a blanket. Wes was about to join her when he thought better and ran back to the kitchen to get the rest of the pizza.
“Don't want to stand in the way of true love,” he said as he came back in, setting the pizza down on the table. He sat down next to Laurel, who grabbed another piece before swinging her legs onto Wes’ lap and laying on her back.
“I think you’ve found the little peanut’s new favorite food,” she said as she chewed, one hand resting on her belly. Wes nestled his hand on top of Laurel’s, feeling their baby, their little peanut.
“Glad I could be of assistance, kid,” he said, directing his voice at her stomach. Laurel turned her head from the screen to face Wes as the opening credits began.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice suddenly smaller but serious. “This really is perfect. Especially after the day I’ve had.”
Wes smiled, softer this time. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Who was it this time?”
“No one who matters, just a couple girls in Evidence. It’s not that big of a deal.”
He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “It is a big deal,” he said. “I hate that they do that to you.”
“I know. But I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll survive. Besides, how can I complain when I have this to come home to?” she said, smiling. “And I’m not just talking about the pizza.”
“True, I am pretty hard to resist.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to be seductive. Laurel laughed and shook her head.
“I take that back. You’re a dork.”
“Nah, you love me.”
Laurel crinkled her nose in mock disgust. “Debatable,” she replied.
“Fine, get your own footrest then,” he said, laughing as he picked up her legs and attempted to move them off his lap.
“Ok maybe I do love you,” she said, promptly moving back to her previous position.
“Mmhmm, that’s what I thought,” he said in a mock serious tone, dramatically turning back to the TV. After a couple seconds he glanced over at her, and while they both were trying their best to look annoyed, upon making eye contact they burst out laughing.
They spent the rest of the night watching Harry Potter, arguing over which houses they and the rest of the Keating 5 would be in (Wes refused to believe he was a Hufflepuff while Laurel insisted she was a Slytherin) and eating their own pints of ice cream (Wes ate about half of his while Laurel demolished hers; she was eating for two, after all). And after a while they moved onto other more, well, traditional Valentine’s Day activities.
That was one holiday tradition Laurel could get behind.
A few hours later they had ended up in bed, their pajamas in a heap on the floor. Wes had fallen asleep on his stomach, one arm tucked under his chest while the other was lazily draped across a sleepy, yet still awake, Laurel. It took forever for her to fall asleep these days; her body wasn’t used to sleeping on her back or side. She didn't mind, though. Not tonight, anyway. She smiled to herself as she watched Wes’ body gently rise and fall as he slept, his arm still resting on her belly. Even while he slept he still was there for her. For them.
And for that, Laurel felt pretty damn lucky.