an upside to being dark and twisty {a MerDer one shot}
Disclaimer: I don’t own Grey’s, but I do own baby Sophie, who makes her third appearance in this fic. It’s easier to use her than pick a new name every time. ;)
Meredith wakes up just after two in the morning to a weird tightening feeling in her belly. But she doesn’t pay much attention; Braxton Hicks have been coming and going sporadically all week, and her due date isn’t for seven more days. So she just spoons up against Derek and shuts her eyes.
Ten minutes later, the feeling comes again, a little more intense this time. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth and waits for it to pass. Then she watches the clock. And sure enough, it happens again.
“Okay,” she whispers, releasing a deep breath.
The books say not to leave for the hospital until the contractions are between five and seven minutes apart, so she lets Derek sleep a little longer. There’s really no sense in waking him up just yet, especially when she knows he’ll just be all hovery, nervously watching her every move until she gives him the ‘okay’ to start the car.
She quietly shuffles out of bed, pees, and heads into their daughter’s nursery to do some last minute prep. Technically, everything has been prepped for a few months now, but the nesty side of her has to quadruple check.
“Okay, the bag is in the car. So is your car seat, Soph.” Meredith grips the rails of the changing table as another contraction rolls through her. “There’s plenty of diapers and wipes for when we get home,” she says through gritted teeth.
After it passes, she exhales audibly, then carries on. “Cell phone. Cell phone charger. Camera. My clothes. Derek’s clothes. His freaking hair products. My… brush. All in the bag.” Meredith looks down at her belly and smiles. “Yes, I know, Mommy is talking to herself.”
Sophie kicks her in the ribs, and Meredith soothingly rubs her hands over her belly. “I think today’s the day, Soph,” she says, sitting down in the rocking chair they set up in the corner of the nursery.
An hour passes, and her contractions keep picking up. Just as one is ending, Derek walks into the nursery, his hair disheveled and his face full of sleep. “Hey. What’re you doing?” he asks curiously.
“My contractions are seven minutes apart. We need to get to the hospital,” she tells him calmly.
His eyes grow wide, and any trace of tiredness etched on his face had been effectively wiped away. “What? Mer, why didn’t you wake me up?” Derek asks, helping her out of the rocking chair.
“I was about two minutes away from doing that,” she says as he helps her onto her feet. “I need to get dressed.”
“You are dressed,” he points out.
Meredith manages to laugh. “I need to at least put a bra on. It’s bad enough I’m going to be panty-less for the next few hours…”
“Okay,” Derek nods.
His nervousness is actually kind of adorable, and she splays her palm over his cheek. “Derek, relax. I’m okay. This is nine months in the making. I’m ready. We’re ready.”
Derek kisses her temple as they walk back into their bedroom. “I love you.”
Meredith smiles at her husband. “I love you too.”
After a quick change out of pajamas for both of them, Derek takes her hand and helps her downstairs, not letting go until they reach the car. “Bags are in the trunk, right?” Derek asks.
“Yeah. Everything’s here.” She sees the flowery pink car seat in the back and feels her heart thud faster in her chest. Next time they were in the car, their daughter would be with them, all tiny and strapped in and safe.
Meredith reaches over the consol and laces her fingers through his, perhaps more to calm his nerves than hers. Although it’s nice to be able to squeeze his hand when the contractions come along.
“Crap, these things hurt,” she winces, leaning her head against the headrest and closing her eyes.
Derek reluctantly stops at a red light. On any other day, he was a law-abiding individual, but it’s tempting to risk getting a ticket and going through it, especially at 3:30 in the morning, with his laboring wife in the passenger seat.
“Deep breaths. In and out,” Derek says, breathing right along with her. “Almost over.”
Meredith slackens her death grip on his hand as the pain passes. “Okay, I’m good,” she nods. “How long since the last one?”
Derek glances down at the clock. “Six minutes.”
“Green,” Meredith points ahead.
“We should be there by the time the next one comes,” he says as he presses his foot down on the accelerator.
She picks up her tote bag sitting at her feet and pulls out her phone. “I’ll text Cristina. I think she’s on-call tonight.”
“She’s not going to be in the delivery room, right?” Derek asks.
“No,” Meredith assures him as she types. “We’re close. But not ‘holding one of my legs while I push’ close…”
“Thank God,” Derek murmurs to himself. He sees her hand go to her stomach and he looks over at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. She’s just kicking. She’s fine. So am I,” Meredith says. She smiles down at her bump under her shirt. “You want out of there, I know. Just don’t do it here. Daddy would probably pass out and I’d have to deliver you myself.”
Derek smirks. “You don’t give me enough credit, Mer.”
“I can practically see your knuckles through your skin because you’re gripping the steering wheel so tight,” she calls to his attention.
“My wife is in labor,” he says.
“I held a bomb in my hands. I’m pretty hardcore,” Meredith reminds him.
A whoosh of air leaves his lungs in relief as he pulls into the hospital parking lot, heading for the employee lot instead of the visitor one. Being an important, fancy neurosurgeon really did have its perks, especially now.
Derek takes her hand off his thigh and kisses the back of it. “No one thinks that more than me.”
And she proves herself right.
Fifteen hours of labor go by, and she handles it like a champ. He stays by her side the entire time, helping out whenever she asks. Getting her ice chips, helping her breathe through the contractions, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cloth, shooing Cristina out of the room when they wanted privacy, and coaching her through pushing.
She amazes him, really, so much so that he’s convinced that she’s done this before in another lifetime. Everything she does, she does well, so it’s not all that surprising. But still, the pride and love and joy coursing through his veins is because of Meredith. And of course, their daughter, all tiny and squishy and beautiful.
They’ve been silent for nearly ten minutes; too busy staring at her, soaking her in, to speak. Her dark hair and blue eyes, the arches in her feet, and her perfect little fingernails. The fascinating little being that they created one night nine months ago.
“I can’t believe she was kicking inside me a few hours ago,” Meredith says, in awe of their newborn cradled in the crook of her arm.
“She’s amazing,” he says softly, kissing his daughter’s hand peeking out of the pink blanket, then kissing his wife. “You were amazing.”
“Hmm, thank you,” she whispers, smoothing out Sophie’s dark hair with her fingers.
“I always thought I’d be the calm one on delivery day,” Derek admits. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“You weren’t that bad,” she says, however unconvincingly. He’d been approaching basket case territory since he found her sitting in the rocking chair earlier that morning.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he teases her. “Seriously, how were you so calm? I was ready for screaming and hitting. Or at the very least, ranting at me for knocking you up.”
Meredith rolls her eyes playfully. “Sorry to disappoint.” She passes Sophie over to Derek so he can have a turn holding her, and rests her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Unstable childhood and all.”
“Calm in a crisis,” Derek recalls. “Not that this was really a crisis. Quite the opposite, actually.” Sophie yawns widely, her little forehead scrunching up in wrinkles, and he grins at how adorable she is. “I told you there was an upside to being dark and twisty.”
“Guess so,” Meredith laughs. She looks down at her daughter, swaddled in her husband’s arms, and smiles at her. “Just, if you can avoid it, don’t touch any bombs, Soph…”
“No,” Derek agrees, letting the baby grab hold of his finger. “For the sake of Daddy’s sanity, please don’t.”