Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/702353.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf), Alan_Deaton,
      Erica_Reyes, Vernon_Boyd, Isaac_Lahey, Peter_Hale, Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Scott_McCall_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Community:_mpregbigbang,
      Mpreg, Humor, Romance, Bad_Haiku, revenge_via_ringback_tone
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-27 Words: 30072
****** Like A Heart Attack ******
by Reddwarfer
Summary
     Derek asks Stiles to help him prepare for the Alpha pack, including
     becoming his mate. Neither of them are prepared for what happens
     after. Derek's got his hands full with the Alpha pack, his idiot teen
     betas, and a suddenly pregnant teenager for a mate. Stiles,
     meanwhile, is tremendously bitter he can't try out for the cast of
     Teen Mom if he has to put up with being pregnant during high school.
     No references to season three spoilers. I've deliberately avoided
     including things not found in the aired seasons 1/2.
     Written for The MpregBigBang_Community.
Notes
     Thanks so very much to my artist, cho_hakkai, for the wonderful art.
     Thanks also to the mod, who was so understanding and helpful. I also
     want to profusely thank my team of beta-readers: Djin7, Green,
     Whisper132, and Wook77. All of you saved my sanity at one point or
     another. Thanks, also, to the people in the GPXplus staff chat room
     for answering some of my crazy questions, like: So, as a dude, how
     would you react to becoming magically pregnant? I love all of you.
     The art is currently embedded in this story, and I will link to it as
     soon as my artist makes her own post.
See the end of the work for more notes
Stiles decided after the night in the warehouse, which he referred to
accurately as Night of the Annoyingly Living Dead, that he was done. So
completely done that he was beef jerky-level done. There weren't enough words
to describe how much his life sucked since Scott had been bitten and he met
Derek Hale. But it could be summed up as a lot. A whole hell of a lot. He vowed
to himself to never let himself get involved with Derek's supernatural drama
again. Because, seriously.
Which was why when Derek showed up at his house four days later and said,
"Stiles, I need you to research something for me," Stiles responded with a calm
and decisive, "How is this my life? Okay, fine, you are so useless without me,
whaddya need?" because he was not only stupid, he was also a masochist. Christ.
The truth was he maybe had the tiniest little soft spot for Derek. Microscopic.
And also the likelihood of Derek's current problems becoming Scott's problems,
which meant they'd end up his problems anyhow, was exceedingly high. It was
just more efficient this way.
Derek plopped down heavily onto his bed and sighed, eyes on the ceiling.
"There's an Alpha pack in town and I need to know more about them and if
there's a way to become more powerful that I don't already know about."
"Wait, wait, wait, back up a minute there," Stiles said, arms flailing as he
sat up in his chair too quickly and almost fell to the floor. "What the hell is
an Alpha pack and how is this going to ruin my life even more, because I know
it will. Don't lie."
"An Alpha pack is pretty self-explanatory. It's a pack made up of Alphas,"
Derek said, in that frustratingly vague way of his that explained absolutely
nothing at all.
"And so, therefore? Come on, man, you gotta give me more to go on than that.
And I noticed you haven't touched on how this is going to ruin my life," Stiles
pointed out, twisting his chair side to side.
Derek rolled his eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that yours
certainly won't be the only life they ruin?"
"No, Derek, that doesn't make me feel better at all. God, never get a job
manning a suicide hotline, because so not the career choice for you, I don't
mind telling you." Stiles slapped his hands down on his thighs and got to his
feet.
"I'm going downstairs to get drinks and snacks because I have a bad, bad
feeling that this is going to be one of those days that will be horrible and
refuse to end and I definitely think I deserve some Cheetos at the very least.
While I'm down there, do you think maybe you can summon up the will to answer
some of my questions directly?"
"I'll give it my best," Derek replied, and then he kicked Stiles' shoe with his
foot. "Get me something to eat."
Instead of telling Derek 'fuck off, I'm not your slave, thank you very much’,
Stiles tilted his head and said, "Sure, what do you want?" because his brain
didn't function correctly at all.
"Sandwich is fine." Derek shrugged off his jacket and basically made himself at
home in Stiles' room, which meant he planned on staying for at least a few
hours. Which meant that there was more going on than Stiles knew. It was
generally the case, but Stiles figured there was a good chance that he could
get more out of Derek if he bugged him long enough. "And let me steal some of
your Cheetos."
"Righty-o, sandwich and stolen Cheetos, coming up." Stiles made his way
downstairs and seriously considered asking his dad to send him to boarding
school. Sometimes, it really sucked being the only person Derek Hale could rely
upon because everyone else in his life was completely useless at most tasks
involving thinking. In all fairness, Peter could think—far too well for Stiles'
tastes—but he was bugfuck crazy and creepier than Derek by far, and that took
some doing. Ugh. Derek's life. Which somehow infected his life. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
Stiles was tempted to make Derek a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on stale
white bread, but his conscience wouldn't let him. Derek's two residences were a
burnt out husk of his childhood home and a subway car in a warehouse. Stiles
didn't even want to think about what else lived there. Neither of those places
had been big on electricity, running water, and functional kitchens, or at
least as far as he noticed. Derek probably subsisted on terrible instant foods
with high sodium and no nutritional content. That and terrifying gas station
chalupas.
Instead, because Stiles was a good, kind soul, and deserved to be canonized for
all the shit he put up with, he made Derek a roast beef and cheddar sandwich on
thick, tasty multi-grain bread, and topped it with lettuce, tomato, onions, and
mustard. He also snagged a second bag of Cheetos so Derek didn't have to steal
his, and grabbed them both a couple cans of Coke. He made it up the stairs
without dropping anything due to ease of habit and found Derek was now barefoot
and lying on his bed.
Stiles dropped the plate with the sandwich on Derek's washboard abs and put the
Cheetos bag and Coke on the side table. "Sit up when you eat that or you'll
choke."
Derek raised an eyebrow at him but obeyed, and Stiles tried to pretend he
didn't sound just like his dad. To cover the awkwardness of it all, Stiles
asked, "So, yeah, you also mentioned wanting more power? And you couldn't just
ask Creepy Uncle Peter? Of course the reasons why that's a terrible idea are
fairly numerous. His penchant for kidnapping...and murder...and unexplainable
undead mindfuckery. You know what? Forget I said anything."
Instead of answering, Derek just ate his sandwich and glared. Which, cool,
Stiles could work with that. If he couldn't work with being glared at by Derek,
their association would have died seconds after trespassing on his property
that first time. "Cool, so, I'll just start with the research. You can sit
there silently and glare at me. Although, and I'm not in any way trying to
pressure you, but if you wanted to, say, drudge up whatever acting skills led
you to charm the Desk Sergeant that time and use them on me so I can pretend
I'm doing this for a friend instead of the guy who crawls in through my window
at intervals and glares me into submission, that'd be cool, too."
"You win," Derek said, and Stiles just gaped at him. "We're friends and I trust
you. Now, if you shut up and get to work, I'll fill you in a little more."
"Do you actually mean that or are you just bullshitting me? I'm one of the
unlucky few not born with a built-in lie detector." If Derek was willing to
stop treating him like his very presence was a trial, Stiles could stop
treating Derek like he was karmic retribution for crimes in a past life.
"Stiles," Derek said, exasperated. "Fine. I meant it. Just... Let's not discuss
it anymore. Please. Do you want to hear more about what's going on, or do we
need to braid each other's hair first?"
"You're just saying that so I'll do your busy work. It's okay. We can work on
it. It'll be something to aim for." Stiles turned back to the computer and
pretended he wasn't blushing. Next time Derek showed up, he'd force him to
watch a movie, because Stiles could only benefit from having one fewer menacing
relationship in his life. "What do you want to know first?"
"I need to tell you something first," Derek said, the barest hint of worry
colored his tone. Stiles turned back around to Derek lying on his side, looking
over at him, and he could see the debate war on Derek's face.
Stiles reached out and patted Derek's ankle where it hung off the end of
Stiles' bed only to snatch it back at Derek's stony expression. They could work
on casual physicality later. "You know you can trust me, and every single time
there was a secret kept in this whole mess, it always came back to bite us in
the ass. So, just tell me and we can avoid future misery, okay?"
"I think the Alpha pack have Erica and Boyd," Derek said, quiet, and before
Stiles could jump out of his chair to do something, Derek held up his hand.
"They're not in danger, at least not yet."
"Why didn't you tell us right away?" Stiles demanded. If he'd known earlier, he
could have...well, he didn't know what he could have done, but he'd have been
more than halfway to a plan by now at the very least. He didn't want to think
about the last time he saw them, tied up in the basement with Crazy Grandpa
Argent terrifying the hell out of them.
"They decided to leave," Derek said evenly, but Stiles could tell it bothered
him. "It wasn't until I was out in the woods, trying to following the trail of
the Alphas that I noticed Erica and Boyd's scents mingled with theirs. There
was no blood, so I'm fairly sure they went with them willingly."
"Why does this not comfort me at all?" Stiles leaned back in his chair and
heaved out a shaky breath. "Do you think they're being...tortured? Because
sixteen is a little young to have multiple experiences with it. How we don't
all have crippling PTSD is a true mystery."
"I'm sure they won't withhold information due to loyalty to the pack," Derek
replied, rolling over and onto his back. "Since they decided not to be a part
of it anymore."
"So, what you're saying is, not only do we have this Alpha pack here in town
with some undoubtedly nefarious purpose in mind, but they also located two of
the local juvenile delinquent werewolves who will give them any and all
information they can? Wow. It's like a nightmare about a plague and I don't
even have to worry about the sleep I won't be getting to experience it."
"We have time to figure something out. They won't make their move for a while.
That's why I need you to find out what you can about them or if there's
anything suspicious going on in town. And I want to see if you can find any
ways I can become more powerful without adding new betas to the pack."
"Finally decided that picking your allies from disillusioned youth was probably
a bad idea?" Stiles couldn't help but ask.
"I regret it every day," Derek said and Stiles felt a thump in his chest at the
hint of Derek's sense of humor. Of all the things Stiles didn't need in his
life this was right up there. It would only lead to humiliation and tears. He
needed help in the worst ways. Why could he never get hot over someone normal?
Because he was doomed to a life of torment and celibacy, that's why.
The smile Derek had on his face now suited him better than the fake one he used
to flirt or the smug one he used to taunt Scott. Later, when Derek wasn't
around to catch any sounds or scents that'd give his thoughts away, Stiles
would maybe acknowledge wanting to see that smile again.
"First things first. What can you tell me about this Alpha pack? What are they?
Why are they here? I'll do your research, whatever. But, I need to know where
to start."
"I know a few things for sure, but the rest are rumors. I need to know what's
fact and what's fiction." Derek moved to sit on the side of Stiles' bed,
resting his elbows on his knees. "I know that the Alpha pack show up whenever
werewolves find themselves on the radar too much. Beyond that, their methods,
their numbers, their power are all speculation and gossip."
"One too many 'animal attacks' is the reason for this visit is what you're
saying," Stiles said, resigned. They'd just finished dealing with the kanima
and now this.
Derek nodded. "I've heard that they evaluate the packs in question and deal
with them as they see fit. Sometimes, they leave without doing anything.
Sometimes, they cull problematic numbers. Sometimes, they wipe out the entire
pack."
"I regret every single time I thought werewolves were awesome," Stiles
bemoaned, because this was going to be a disaster. He just knew it.
He was surprised when Derek perked up at that. "Are you sure you don't want the
bite?"
"I thought you learned your lesson about biting teenagers," Stiles replied,
shaking his head in mock disappointment.
Rolling his eyes, Derek countered, "You couldn't possibly be worse. I meant it,
though. Do you want the bite?"
Stiles' eyes widened at the question. It wasn't as if he never thought about
it, but so far the cons outweighed the pros on a fairly consistent basis. "Ask
me again when we're not being threatened by an Alpha pack and there aren't
crazy-ass Argent hunters trying to kill everyone."
"Okay," Derek said, shrugging. "It would just be better if..."
"If what? Not being as bad as Scott and company aside, there were plenty of
times me not being a werewolf was a good thing."
"It would be better if you were in my pack." It was a pained admission more
than a plea, but it made Stiles unaccountably pleased.
Stiles looked at him. "I sorta am already, aren't I? I'm also sorta in Scott's,
too, I guess."
"It's not something you can do halfway."
He had one question and it would be a bit of a deal breaker if Derek said yes,
but he had to ask. "Do I have to be a werewolf to be pack?"
Derek seemed to wrestle with that question for a moment, body tense, then he
deflated. "No. I want to say yes, but it's not true. Just like you're in
Scott's pack, you can be mine and be human."
There was a moment where they both just stared at each other. Stiles wondered
if Derek was aware that he sounded like those cheesy twelve pack Valentine
cards kids gave each other in the fifth grade, but stifled the line of thought
before it set him off laughing.
"I'm just as likely to tell Scott where to shove it when his ideas are stupid
as I'd do it to you. More often than not, I'm the one telling him what to do,
because he can be an unbelievable idiot when it comes to ideas, Allison, and
basic life preservation. But you already know that."
"If you were in my pack, I wouldn't stop you from helping him," Derek offered.
"This whole trust thing would be easier if you were pack."
"Scott's not gonna join your pack, you know," Stiles said in lieu of responding
to Derek's request directly. Joining Derek's pack felt right, despite
everything, but it didn't mean Stiles couldn't use the reassurance that it
wouldn't bite him in the ass later.
Derek huffed. "I know. Maybe it's for the best." Stiles wondered if Derek was
thinking about how easily Allison's family had used him through Scott.
"It's a yes as long as it won't make me betray Scott," Stiles decided. If Derek
could accept that, cool. If not, Stiles had managed just fine so far without
official pack affiliations.
It was clear by the look on Derek's face that he didn't like conditions put
upon him, but that was just tough luck for him. Stiles wouldn't back down from
it. "It goes against the whole point of the hierarchy to let a human beta make
conditions." Stiles tried not to look too disappointed, but Derek spoke again.
"I guess I'll have to live with it. Try not to fight me too often. And no more
secrets."
"I'll try," Stiles said, but they both knew that Stiles really didn't do the
blind obedience thing. He could work on the lies and secrets thing, but only
because it rarely turned out well. Stiles was nothing if not a pragmatist.
Neither of them spoke for a while. Stiles turned back to the computer and Derek
brooded on his bed.
"I do have a question," Derek said, and it was clear that it had taken some
effort for Derek to even build up to discussing whatever it was. "Did you know
what Scott was planning in the warehouse?"
"You mean with the whole," Stiles made fangs with his fingers, "and my crazy-
ass principal?"
"Yeah, that." Derek shifted until his knees were touching Stiles. "Did you know
what was going on?"
Stiles shook his head vigorously. "No! I had no idea. If I had, I would have
told him it was not only stupid, but suicidal. That everything didn't end in
everyone's painful death is a miracle. You do realize that that asshole snagged
me after the lacrosse game and roughed me up in his basement, right?"
Derek looked surprised at that. "No, I hadn't."
"I mean... I told you about Erica and Boyd, right?"
"Yeah, but... I guess I didn't connect that you were actually there with them."
Stiles waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It was a crazy, crazy night.
None of us were at our best and I was probably rambling at you. I tend to do
that."
Smirking, Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "I hadn't noticed."
"Anyhow, point is, I didn't know. And I wouldn't have been okay with it. Dude
was fucked up and if I hadn't been so completely terrified that he could hurt
my father, I'd have delighted in getting his ass arrested."
Derek looked at him, but said nothing. Stiles got the sense he'd passed some
sort of test, because the silence wasn't tense or fraught with the homicidal
menace Derek liked to keep about him in his better moods.
"We could have an emergency clause, though," Stiles said after a few minutes of
useless poking around Google. Derek didn't seem to be confused by Stiles
jumping back to their 'want the bite y/n' conversation, so Stiles supposed he
could stick around. "I'm not too keen on dying a virgin and oh my god forget I
said that bit, but anyhow if there's a situation and it's the bite or die or
something, feel free to bite me. And I mean that literally."
"Noted."
It wasn't until Stiles' dad pulled into the driveway that Derek got off his
bed, shoved his feet into his shoes, and left via the window shaped doggy door
with a terse, "See you later."
"Bye," Stiles said, even though Derek had already disappeared into the woods.
His head was already buzzing with research angles, pack dynamics, Erica and
Boyd, and what to tell Scott. Dealing with Derek could never be anything but
complicated.
Just then, his phone buzzed with a text from Scott. allison wnts 2 meet l8r!
"Fuck my life," Stiles said, and headed downstairs so his dad wouldn't see the
junk food wrappers in his room.
                                      ***
The thing about researching anything most people thought was fake on Google was
that the results were 99% absolute shit.
The other one percent tended to be cryptic and in the worst sort of purple
prose. It was awful.
Stiles had spent the better part of a week scouring all of his sources for
information about the Alpha pack as well as power boosting for Alphas and came
up with depressingly little. Derek had made the habit of showing up to his
house as soon as his dad went to work and shifted between hovering over his
shoulder menacingly and sprawling over his bed, demanding food and information
in turns. When pressed, Derek, in the most begrudging way possible, doled out
tiny nuggets of information. Sometimes, it was about his family. Other times,
it was about pack business.
Mostly, he just scowled and ignored most questions Stiles threw at him. Erica
and Boyd had turned up and were around, but Derek quickly shut down any
conversation on the topic and Stiles decided, wisely perhaps, to let it drop
and avoid those two until he had more information. Other than four or five or
thirty topics Stiles had internally deemed 'touchy' for Derek, he continued to
pepper questions in Derek's direction, hoping his ratio of asked/answered
improved.
It was weird, though, the way tension between them mostly disappeared. Like as
if they were always on the brink of getting along, but were just waiting for
permission.
"Why are you here again?" Stiles asked, and then quickly added at the look on
Derek's face, "Not that I don't want you here. Who wouldn't want a manly and
terrifying Alpha haunting their bed...er...room. Bedroom?"
Derek gave him a look and said, "You work faster with proper motivation."
"That I do. That I do, indeed. Can I just petition management to consider other
kinds of 'proper motivation'?" Stiles complained.
"Like what?" Derek asked, amused.
Stiles gaped at him and blurted, "Not sex. I am not thinking about sex. Ohmygod
what is wrong with my mouth? Um. Burgers. I said. Burgers. And nothing at all
about sex. Curly fries!"
With a chuckle, Derek went back to reading a book he'd stolen from Stiles'
bookcase and said, "I'll take it under consideration. If you ever give me any
information worthwhile."
"This is why people like hourly rates. Being paid for time spent, not results
produced."
Derek rolled his eyes. Even though Stiles couldn't see it, he could sense it.
"Shut up and find something."
"I like it better when you show up hungry. It's a lot easier to convince you to
slack off, watch movies, and eat take out first. C'mon, Derek, you know you
want to cuddle on the couch watching Lord of the Rings."
Snorting, Derek just pointed his finger at the screen of Stiles' computer.
"Later."
It occurred to Stiles, then, that he didn't actually know where Derek was
staying anymore. He supposed the subway car was out, and the Hale house was
already marked up by the Alpha pack and none-too-defensible. And maybe,
perhaps, Derek just wanted somewhere clean, comfortable, and free of crazy-
sister killing family members to hang out for a few hours before he fucked off
to wherever he went when wasn't with Stiles.
"So, um, can I ask you a question without you threatening to cause me bodily
harm or actually just doing the bodily harm?" Stiles jiggled his leg and tapped
his fingers restlessly against the desk.
Derek sighed and set his book down. "No promises."
"Okay, right then. So, where are you staying? I mean. You're not staying at
your usual haunts, are you? Because I'd seriously, seriously advise against it.
I don't know about your money situation. Not that you'd share that sort of
information with me, what with it not being my business. But, I'm kinda
thinking you need a place to stay, preferably with electricity and a roof."
"I do. Sort of," Derek replied. "It's a small two bedroom apartment I'm sharing
with my uncle."
"Say no more," Stiles said fervently. No wonder Derek wanted out of the place
as often as he could. Stiles' belly ached with knowing Derek had to live with
that creep. "Come over as often as you like. As long you don't let my dad see
you. Or interrupt special Stiles time."
"Thanks," Derek said, wry. "I'll keep that in mind."
Stiles closed out the last tab he'd opened during the day's search and huffed.
"I think we've exhausted all angles available to us so far. There's another
option, but I'd rather not use it."
"What is it?" Derek asked, suddenly intense in the way he used to be with
Stiles before this particular research project.
Rubbing a hand over his head, Stiles heaved out a breath. "My dad. I could ask
him if knows about anyone moving into town recently. You said they'd been here
a while? It'd make sense that they'd secure a more permanent base instead of
hanging out in the woods."
"What's the problem with asking?"
Stiles frowned. "Well, I don't really have any reason for my curiosity that I
can tell him. And he's basically spent every second since Scott was turned
being disappointed in me. Mostly because I've spent most of that time lying to
him, endangering his career and getting him hurt. And if this turns out like it
always does, he's going to want to know why I asked about them when he finds
the bodies a few months later."
The look Derek gave him made him groan, part sympathetic, part 'I'm going to
ask, anyway', and Stiles clenched his eyes for a moment and gave a nod. "I
swear to god, Derek. If this goes horribly wrong, I'm going to drag your little
werewolf ass over to Sunday dinner and make you explain everything."
"Fine," Derek replied. "If it comes down to it, we can tell your father. I just
would rather not unless it's absolutely necessary."
The idea of his dad being able to look at him without the wall of
disappointment between them clutched at him. It was too dangerous, he knew, and
he didn't want his dad in the middle of it all, but to know eventually he could
stop lying to his dad meant the world to him. Stiles refused to acknowledge the
way his eyes burned a little. "Thanks."
                                      ***
Lucky for Stiles, it turned out he didn't have to ask his dad anything after
all. All it took was him doing some much delayed errands. The thing about
having a sheriff for a father and being a minor juvenile delinquent was that he
was privy to some creative punishments. He'd carried groceries and weeded
gardens and done various chores for most of the senior members of the town. A
heretofore undiscovered benefit of such being that all the people he'd helped
thought of him as a good boy and a part of their gossip mill.
Stiles learned from Mr. Lovett that the old house on Devlin Drive near the
south side of the Preserve was recently purchased by some college-age students.
Mrs. Greenway informed him that someone bought out the entire hardware store's
supply of chains, and wasn't that strange? Mrs. Everett let him know that
something weird had glitched on his surveillance equipment in his store and no
one could figure out what it was because it was already working perfectly
again.
It wasn't much, but it was enough so Derek was satisfied and he didn't have to
include Stiles' dad.
"Well, that's what my senior citizen network informed me," Stiles said around a
mouthful pizza.
Derek glanced away from the movie they were watching and said, "It's better
than nothing," then grabbed another slice of meat lovers.
"I've had no luck with the power thing," Stiles said, frustrated. "I even
translated a bunch of badly worded Latin pages with no luck. So, apart from the
obvious, there's nothing. Well, unless you want to take a chance on the 'bathe
in the blood of two hundred yaks' ritual I saw."
"What do you mean by 'apart from the obvious'?" Derek asked, body turned
towards him. "Giving more people the bite?"
Stiles looked over at him. "Oh, well, there is that, too. But I meant taking a
mate. I figured you decided against it. For reasons."
"No." Derek looked stunned, as if the idea of a mate never even crossed his
mind.
"Oh," Stiles said, and then he waved his hands. "I wasn't, like, not mentioning
it you to hide anything. I honestly thought you'd already thought about it and
decided against it. Or I would have mentioned it, like, the first day."
"It would be good for the pack," Derek said, sitting back in the chair. "Having
a mate can double an Alpha's power. And there are other benefits."
"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding. "So, now you need to figure out which unlucky
bastard you want to tap for this glorious honor."
At that, Derek frowned. "I…I need to think about that."
Stiles couldn't blame him since his pack equaled out to a bunch of idiotic
teenagers and his creepy-ass uncle.
"All right," Stiles said in his most bracing tone. "Let's eat the fuck out of
this pizza, watch the fuck out of this movie, and not talk about it for the
rest of the evening."
Derek grinned at him. "I think I can manage that."
                                      ***
Stiles didn't know why it surprised him when Derek crawled through his bedroom
window the following day and stood in front of him awkwardly for a few moments
before biting out a terse, "I think it should be you."
"You think it should be me what?" Stiles asked dumbly. He had no idea what
Derek was talking about because it truly hadn't occurred to him that he should
know exactly what Derek was talking about.
Derek looked annoyed. "You know what. I need a mate. You should be it."
"What in the world made you think that me being your mate was a good idea?"
Stiles asked, voice rising with each word.
"You're the best choice," Derek said in that not-so-patient patient tone of
his.
Stiles blinked at him. "How? How?"
"Think about it." Derek crossed his arms, defensive, and stared at him.
So, Stiles did. "Okay, okay. Let's look at it all logically. Peter's your
uncle, so he's out. Isaac is..." And Stiles tried to imagine Isaac, who clearly
craved healthy male affection and attention, as Derek's mate and cringed.
"Isaac. Erica and Boyd both tried to leave the pack."
Derek added, "And they're fucking."
"They are?"
"Back on topic."
"Okay, yeah, and even if Scott were in your pack, which he isn't, he's stupidly
in love with Allison. Right. So. There's me who's both single and available and
dependable."
"Don't forget, willing to do what it takes," Derek added, because he was the
same brand of pragmatist Stiles was.
"But, really, me? There are so many ways this is a bad idea that I can't decide
which to list first."
Derek sighed, frustrated. "It's not as if I can just go pick some random person
up at a bar and say, hey, be my mate, I need you for a possible upcoming war."
A hysterical giggle forced its way up Stiles' throat. "Worst pick up line ever.
And, I kind of hate you for using it on me."
"Stiles," Derek bit out, and looked extremely uncomfortable about the entire
conversation.
Again, Stiles tried not to erupt in the most inappropriate laughter ever. "It's
not that you're not the most charming sour wolf I've ever met, but I really
don't see how it'd be a good thing for either one of us given we just barely
became sorta-friends after months of being reluctant allies."
"Did you just give me the 'it's not you, it's me' excuse?" Derek asked him,
incredulous.
"Oh my god, I did," Stiles looked at Derek, stunned. "I really did. My life is
the supernatural edition of a Lifetime movie. I'd ask someone to kill me, but
it really seems like tempting fate at this point."
"Stiles." Derek's frown was back and his tone serious. "I wouldn't ask if it
wasn't important."
"I know that," Stiles replied, deflating a bit. "I know. It's just...I don't
know. It's a lot to get my mind around. Beyond the fact that we've only just
now entered the amicable portion of our relationship, I've never dated so to
speak, and you're kind of intimidating, and there's the fact that we can't just
chalk it up as an experience when the Alpha pack issue is over."
"Fair enough," Derek conceded and didn't that make Stiles want to film the
moment for posterity. "Promise me you'll think about it."
Stiles figured if Derek was willing to give a little on the issue, he could,
too. "Okay. I'll give it all due consideration."
"I'm gonna head out," Derek said, awkwardness heavy between them.
"No, you can stay for dinner if you want. I was about to cook when you showed
up."
Derek shook his head. "Maybe another day." When Stiles made to speak, Derek
held his hand up. "I'm not upset. I just have a few things I need to take care
of. I promise I'll come by soon."
"Okay." Stiles hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt. "See you
later."
He busied himself with making dinner as soon as Derek was gone and tried to
ignore how much he missed Derek. Maybe he could pack it up when he was done and
drive by the station. That'd be good. His dad needed decent food or else he'd
just go through a drive-thru somewhere.
                                      ***
It wasn't that Stiles planned on ignoring his promise to think about Derek's
request; it was that the following few days were busy. He wasn't intentionally
not thinking of Derek's stupid face and his stupid request or how his stomach
didn't ache that much when he thought about finally giving up his hopeless
crush on Lydia. It was just that Scott finally remembered that they were
friends and they hung out. It was summer and there were pickup games of
lacrosse and all-night Halo and junk food binges and dozens of things to
distract himself from the whole confusing and conflicting feelings he had every
time he closed his eyes and couldn't stop himself from dreaming about useless
failwolves instead of girls with strawberry blonde hair.
The thing was, it didn't really matter if Stiles was deliberately ignoring the
entire situation under the guise of teenage boy hijinks, because fate hated him
something fierce and decided to force the issue.
His dad came home with dinner, and Stiles didn't even try to hold back his
opinion on the matter. "Salad, dad, it's not a hard word. It's a lot fewer
syllables than cheeseburger with the works and curly fries."
"With my day, I deserve it," Dad argued. "Now, shut up and pass the ketchup."
"Why, what happened?" Stiles asked, momentarily distracted from his dad's
horrible food choices.
Dad looked up at him and gave him a half-smile. "It wasn't so bad, but odd. Do
you know any of the new kids going to your school next year?"
"New kids?" Stiles asked. "No. I've basically seen Scott this summer. With a
side of more Scott."
"Well, when I was out picking up...er...a healthy snack," Dad gave him a slight
wince. Stiles snorted but didn't interrupt. "This kid tapped my arm and handed
me my cellphone. Said I needed to take better care of my things. Hey, what's
that face?"
"What face? This face? I don't have a face. Well, I do. But there's nothing of
note. About my face," Stiles rambled, trying not to hyperventilate.
"Stiles," Dad said with that tone that spoke of nothing but disappointment and
the expectation of hearing lies. It made Stiles want to shrivel up and die a
little. "What? Just tell me."
"It's just," Stiles said, helpless. "That's how those identity scams work,
isn't it? They pretend to help you and then BAM. Someone claiming to be you is
buying boxes of industrial grade lubricant in a small Mexican border town."
"Where do you even come up with this stuff," Dad asked, bemused, and then his
expression turned serious. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you,
even if you're in trouble."
"I know dad," Stiles said, and got up and walked around the table to give his
dad a hug. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'll be better. I promise."
"All I can ask for, I guess."
As soon as they finished dinner and his dad went back to work, Stiles was
upstairs in his room, twitching restlessly in his computer chair. He stared
down at his phone, thumbing through his contacts. He briefly looked at Scott's
name, and then Allison, and then Lydia, even, but then he scrolled down to
'Sourwolf' and pressed send.
"What," Derek barked out by way of greeting.
If he hadn't been so nervous, he'd have mocked Derek for his horrible phone
manners, but all he could think about was whether this was a message being sent
to him. "I think one of the Alphas talked to my dad."
"I'll be right over." And before Stiles had even formed a response in his mind,
Derek hung up.
Stiles looked down at the phone still flashing "call ended" and said, "Okay,
then."
When Derek arrived, it was less than ten minutes later. "Explain."
Ignoring the rudeness for now, Stiles repeated what his dad said as best he
could. "'Take better care of your things' means me, right? What am I going to
do? I can't have them hurting him."
"Stiles," Derek said, and there was a world's worth of understanding in his
gaze. "We'll do anything we can to prevent it." And Stiles knew he was
referring not just to him, but the pack.
"If I said yes to the thing," Stiles began slowly, braver with each word,
"would it make him safer or more at risk?"
"Safer," Derek said without missing a beat, no deception in his tone or
expression. "An attack against my mate's family would be like attacking me
directly. Not many would risk that."
"But someone could attack him knowing you'd retaliate," Stiles argued, because
he'd been targeted far too often to ignore it.
Derek nodded his agreement. "True. Stiles, there is no option with a guarantee
he'd be safe. Even if we'd never met, he'd be at risk because he's the sheriff.
I'm only stating that, of all the options available to us, this would be the
safest."
"How would they know, though?" Stiles asked, because he figured that anyone who
came near Stiles would be able to tell he was Derek's mate through their freaky
werewolf senses, but his dad wouldn't smell like Derek's pack. "It's not like I
can tell Dad that I'm inviting you over for some platonic scent-marking and
have you two cuddle it out on the couch."
"I'll scent around the perimeter of your property."
"Does this mean you'll be whipping it out and taking a leak on all our trees?"
Stiles asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Better not let the neighbors see
you."
"Stiles." Derek crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't rise to the bait.
"Don't worry. They'll know and they'll know he's protected."
"Okay," Stiles said, resolved. They could work out the rest, after. He had a
few questions, a few things he needed clarified, but he'd do it. Because it'd
help his friends and his father and his pack. "I'll be your mate. Whatever it
takes, right?"
Smiling. Derek was actually smiling. It was almost disconcerting. He gripped
Stiles' shoulder and pulled him into an awkward hug. "Thanks."
"Yeah, don't thank me, yet," Stiles grumbled. "Ten bucks you're regretting it
before a month's gone by."
"You think it would take that long?" Derek asked, and Stiles found himself
shocked into laughter and managed a "Shut up."
"I do have a few questions," Stiles said after his amusement died down.
Derek sat down on his bed and looked up at him expectantly. "I figured as
much."
Instead of sitting at his desk chair, Stiles chose to sit down on the bed next
to Derek. "Well, it's a few things. So, how does it work? It's not like me and
you just grin and point at each other saying, 'mate!' and then that's it."
"Er," Derek said, shifting uncomfortably. "No. It's more intimate than that."
"How much more intimate?" Stiles asked, picking at a loose string on his jeans.
Derek huffed. "Extremely. And during that there's the marking."
"So, you're saying we need to have bite-y sex?" Stiles asked, voice raising a
few octaves.
"It's not just...sex," Derek managed. "The Alpha must want to claim his mate
during the marking."
"Oh, so bite-y sex with intent," Stiles said, and he figured it made sense.
Will apparently meant a lot to the supernatural world.
"Yes," Derek said, seemingly relieved that the conversation was over.
Stiles knocked his knee against Derek's and said, "What about the other thing.
I mean. It's not like it's something that'll go away when the Alpha pack does."
"No," Derek agreed. "It's supposed to be...Permanent...For life...But, if both
parties truly don't want to be mates anymore, and the Alpha wills it, bonds can
be broken. It's rare, though. There can't be even the smallest part of you that
still wants the bond or it won't work."
"Oh," Stiles said, because regardless of how much he thought it was a bad idea
and how he and Derek would probably end up killing each other, he wasn't too
positive that either of them could muster up that kind of will. Too many times
saving each other would do that.
Derek placed his hand on Stiles' thigh. "It's not something we need to worry
about now."
"There's one more thing," Stiles said, trying not to get hard by the simple
touch. "I'm human, so I won't get the full wolfy-effect of the bond, but will I
notice any changes?"
"I'm not sure," Derek answered, eyebrows furrowing. "It wasn't something that
was talked about, really. It was considered private. I knew the basics, but I
was still young. I... wouldn't have been told until I was an adult because I
was too far down in the hierarchy for Alpha."
"Oh," Stiles said for lack of a better response. Instead he turned and put his
arm around Derek's shoulders, half-surprised to not be batted away. "We'll
figure it out. We always do."
"Yeah," Derek replied and didn't pull away.
                                      ***
"Are there any freaky rituals involved with mating that I need to know about?"
asked Stiles as soon as he heard Derek jumping through his window the following
day. He'd spent some time with the more traumatizing parts of the Internet the
night before when trying to research more about mating and he could really use
the reassurance that most of the Internet was nothing but lies and bad porn
right now. "Because I saw things on the net last night that I will never be
able to un-see."
"Um." Derek sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
Stiles hadn't bothered to turn around to greet him. He'd been reading through a
web page for the last half hour and Google Translate, as usual, was no help.
So, he'd taken to looking up every word and tried to make sense of it all. It
was doing wonders distracting him from thinking about some of the things he'd
seen, though.
"This thing is a pain," he complained, but continued working. "Well, are there?
If it involves dancing naked under the moon wearing the entrails of my enemies,
I'm going to have to reconsider."
With a snort, Derek replied, "No. Nothing like that. I just," Stiles could
practically hear Derek awkwardly gesture something that would translate into
'sex you up', "and then I give you a claiming bite and then..." Derek trailed
off, mumbling something under his breath.
Which set off his 'something freaky's gonna happen' senses. Stiles swiveled his
chair around and almost forgot what he was going to ask. Derek was wearing a
button down dress shirt and a nice pair of slacks along with a pair of shoes
that looked like the sort that got polished. Normally, when Derek showed up he
looked like he crawled out of bed and put on the nearest thing without
bloodstains. Not that Derek didn't make that work for him, he totally did, but
Stiles actually couldn't remember Derek ever looking nice. "Are you going on a
date?" Stiles asked before he could think the better of it, and Derek scowled
at him in response.
"Stiles." It was amazing how many times in a week he heard his name being said
with complete and utter frustration.
Stiles perked up and grinned. "Oho, this is for me? How sweet. You look like
you're going out to a fancy restaurant in that get up. Which we can do if you
want. Though, everyone in this town gossips like they're on Desperate
Housewives or something. Still, we can role-play. You're the overworked
businessman and I'm the young twink you picked up off the side of the road with
questionable life choices and a heart of gold."
Derek actually looked pained, which tickled Stiles on so many levels. "Stop.
Please."
"Fine, fine," Stiles said, pouting. "Ruin my fun. Seriously, though, you do
look nice. Anyhow, I believe you were muttering under your breath and I was
going to ask you to repeat that last bit again, louder and with clear
enunciation."
Still looking like he'd been punched in the nuts, Derek sat down on the bed and
stared at the floor. "Well," Derek said after clearing his throat.
"There's...when I...after we're..."
"Derek, Der-bear, My Dear Wolfie," Stiles said, only stopping with the pet
names when Derek glared at him, "It's painful watching you try to say whatever
it is you're trying to say. Just write it down and then I'll ask any questions
I may have."
Derek nodded and quickly scribbled something on the notebook Stiles was using
earlier. He looked down and saw only one word, underlined twice. "Knotting?"
Stiles asked, hoping his voice stayed steady. "Um. Okay. I can totally see why
you weren't so eager to share this little jewel with me. So, what you're saying
is your dick is as freaky as the rest of you and I'm going to experience it
first hand, or ass, as the case may be." Stiles looked up at the ceiling and
wondered how this was even his life. "If people can enjoy fisting and dildos
thicker than my arm, I'm sure we'll manage!" Stiles said, over bright, the
expression on Derek's face at the mention of dildos and fisting making up for
the initial shock of Derek's weird Alpha junk.
"All right," Derek said, nodding once as if to himself, and then just sat
there, silent.
Stiles took pity on him because it was clear that Derek had no idea how to
segue from the whole "knotting" bombshell to figuring out the hows and whens of
their undoubtedly super special naked mating time. "Here's what's gonna happen.
I'm going to call out for Chinese. We're gonna eat it in front of a movie with
guns and explosions and the barest hint of a plot. At some point during this
film, you're gonna kiss me because I refuse to have an awkward first kiss while
I'm naked and nervous and thinking about your weirdo junk, then, after we've
made out a bit and the credits finally roll, we're gonna come back up here,
strip naked and get our freak on. Sound good?" Stiles pinned Derek with a look
that brooked no disagreements and didn't give him time to reply before he
clapped his hands together and rubbed. "Good."
Looking like he'd been hit over the head with a part torn from his beloved
car—Stiles would know—Derek got to his feet and mumbled, "Let's... do that."
                                      ***
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/reddwarfer/5181552/176407/176407_original.jpg]
                                      ***
"Get ready for one of the best cinematic experiences of your life," Stiles said
as pushed play. Even the credits for Shoot 'Em Up were awesome. Multiple
cartons of Chinese food were strewn across the coffee table along with multiple
cans of Coke. Derek had eyed the chopsticks as if they were made with wolfsbane
and fetched a fork from the kitchen, the plebe.
"I somehow doubt that," Derek said and tucked into his meal like he hadn't
eaten in days. After a few minutes of watching the film, Derek's eyebrow went
up. "A carrot, really?"
"Shut up, carrots are good for you," Stiles said, and then, "Well, probably not
when they're being jammed into your eye socket. Then they're deadly."
Derek snorted. "It's only been ten minutes and I'm already regretting ever
letting you pick the movie."
Laughing, Stiles thwacked his hand against Derek's arm. "Just wait. It gets so
much better."
In hindsight, Stiles thought perhaps he hadn't picked the best film to
encourage sexy times. Despite the fact there was sex and hooker Nuns with
assless habits. Maybe the dude wearing a diaper with a lactation kink spoiled
the mood a bit. Or maybe it was the look of disturbed fascination that came
over Derek's face every time the movie made its delightfully unconcerned
assault on physics and realism.
"You're sorta like that dude, in a way," Stiles said, trying to mimic Smith's
accent when he added, "You know what I hate.... But, if you're Smith, does that
make me the creepy behavioral analyst dude or the lactating Italian hooker
lady?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "The baby, Oliver, because you never shut up."
"So, that'd make you my pseudo-daddy?" Stiles chirped, because he just knew
it'd irritate Derek. "Because I guess I could make that work, later. If you
want. But could we save the spanking and calling me your 'special baby boy' til
after I've lost my virginity?" Stiles peeked at Derek's face and did a little
victory dance in his head. He so called that one.
"There are no words to express how much I regret agreeing to this situation
right now."
Stiles pouted a little. "So cruel, these things you say to me."
And to Stiles' surprise, Derek just laughed. Which made his cheeks heat up,
just a little. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing Derek in a non-
irritable state, especially one relaxed enough to laugh.
"Think we could reenact this scene?" Stiles asked as Smith got into a gunfight
mid-coitus and didn't bother to stop either fucking or shooting. "Or do you
think it requires at least one vagina? Are dudes flexible enough to do it
against a wall like that while shooting at random baddies?"
"Shut up," Derek said, groaning. "Just. Shut up."
Stiles grinned. "Make me."
Even though it was the perfect set up, Stiles still wasn't prepared for when
Derek shifted and darted in to give him a kiss on the lips. It was awkward for
all of a minute, lips too hard against each other, until Derek reached out and
cupped his face, guiding him into a slow, deep kiss that had his belly flopping
over itself.
When Derek finally pulled back, Stiles blinked a few times, trying to get his
brain to restart enough to make a comment. Unfortunately, he took too long and
Derek quickly went from pleased to smug. It'd irritate him more if his heart
still wasn't beating a bit too fast and Derek's hand hadn't moved to cover his
own. Stiles supposed Derek could be allowed a little smugness. He'd get back at
him, eventually.
They held hands for the rest of the movie.
                                      ***
"I feel like this should be more awkward," Stiles said, standing in his boxers,
looking at his bed with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
Derek looked at him with an incredulous expression as he placed his folded
clothes on a chair. "It's not awkward enough already?"
"I don't know why you feel awkward," Stiles pointed out. "You're a) not a
virgin, b) underwear model hot and c) in charge of this whole situation."
"I deflower my underage teenage mate every day of the week," Derek said,
deadpan. "It should be old hat by now."
Stiles couldn't help himself but burst into a fit of giggles. "Okay. Point,
point. Just, yanno, tell me what to do so you can go where no man has ever gone
before."
This time it was Derek's turn to laugh. "You are insane."
"I guess now would be the time for full disclosure," Stiles said, not
disagreeing with him. This whole last year did nothing if not prove that he was
nuts.
Derek had removed his clothes and folded them neatly on his computer chair.
Stiles tried desperately to not find it cute, but couldn't help himself.
"I want you to promise me something," Derek said, walking over to him and
curling his arms around Stiles' waist.
Stiles had to swallow down the urge to reply with anything. "Yeah?"
"Let me take my time," Derek said, and Stiles blushed despite himself. "Promise
me you won't try to hurry me."
"Uh." Stiles throat clicked when he swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I...I can do that."
"Good," Derek said, and then he was pressing up against him, kissing him deep.
"Mmmph." Stiles didn't know where to put his hands, so he settled for grabbing
awkwardly at Derek's hips, trying to get him closer, as close as possible.
They kissed for a few minutes and Stiles sent a silent thanks to the fact they
were about the same height, because they fit together so easily.
Derek's hands wandered from from his mid back down to the elastic of his
boxers, then slid his fingers beneath them to cup Stiles' ass. He guided Stiles
over towards the bed, ass still firmly in Derek's grip, before he bore Stiles
down on the bed, taking the boxers off as he went.
"I've been thinking about this all day," Derek admitted as he moved Stiles
until his head hit the pillows, crawling between Stiles' legs. "Could hardly
think about anything else."
"Me...me too," Stiles replied, breathless with anticipation. Derek smiled at
that, and leaned over to where his coat was hanging off the chair and grabbed a
small bottle of oil from the pocket. He opened and poured a small amount into
the palm of his hands, its delicate scent barely noticeable.
"Lie back," Derek said, and he knelt at the foot of the bed, taking one of
Stiles' ankles into his hands. Derek rubbed oil into the soles of his feet, the
knobs of his ankles, and the curve of his calves until Stiles was halfway
melted into the mattress, turned on more than he'd ever been in his life, and
Derek hadn't even touched above his knees.
"Derek." He bit down on his lip to prevent himself from demanding Derek to get
a move on, because he'd promised and Derek knew, the bastard.
He opened his eyes, not even recalling when he'd closed them, and caught Derek
staring at him, unabashedly, and rubbing circles with his thumbs on the sides
of his knees. Derek wet his lips once with a flick of his tongue, then leaned
in and kissed where he'd just been rubbing, right above his thumb, and then
again, and again.
Derek mouthed at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, moving steadily upwards
and until he was so close to where Stiles knew Derek would avoid that he was
afraid he'd come untouched against his belly. Looking up to make sure Stiles
was watching, Derek smiled against his skin, and then bit down, lightly at
first, and then harder until he'd left a spit-wet red mark behind.
"Ungh." Stiles thighs trembled with the effort of not wrapping them around
Derek's stupid head and pressing his face where Stiles wanted it most.
It wasn't a surprise when Derek bypassed his cock entirely after he'd poured
more oil into his hands, choosing to rub just above the line of his pubic hair
up to his belly button, then back down along his sides, to the top of his hips.
"Feeling relaxed?" Derek asked, a mixture of aroused and amused.
Stiles glared at him. "If I were any more relaxed, I'd be asleep."
"I don't know," Derek commented, now massaging his thumbs right beneath Stiles'
nipples, which hardened at the proximity. Stiles could feel the hair on Derek's
thighs brush against his own, but Derek moved back enough so Stiles couldn't
thrust against him. "You look pretty tense to me."
"You're a laugh riot," Stiles said, thumping his head against the pillow in
frustration.
Derek leaned forward, then, bracketing Stiles' head with his hands. "Hey,"
Derek said, lips brushing against Stiles'. "I've got you."
"Yeah," Stiles replied, suddenly overwhelmed all over again. Derek had asked
him not to tell him to hurry, but he didn't say Stiles couldn't touch back. So,
Stiles looped his arm around the back of Derek's neck and pulled him into a
heated kiss. It was sloppy, full of teeth and want, but it felt better then any
of the kisses they'd shared so far.
"Stiles," Derek panted out when he pulled back to breathe. "You...are
so...you."
Before Stiles had a chance to talk back or feel hurt, Derek kissed the spot of
skin below his ear and whispered, "That's not a complaint."
"Unmph," Stiles muffled his words against Derek's shoulder as Derek bit gently
at his neck.
Too quickly, Derek pulled back and moved so his knees were on either side of
his hips. "Turn over," he murmured, with a hand squeezing the back of Stiles'
neck.
He rushed to obey, because he felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin
if Derek didn't get back to touching him.
There was a kiss to the back of his neck, and another on his right shoulder,
then left, then on the place right between his shoulder blades. Stiles groaned
his frustration against his pillow, his hips jerking thoughtlessly against the
mattress.
"Not yet, Stiles," Derek whispered, and shifted so his weight rested on the
small of Stiles' back. Derek's hands, now with more oil, rubbed every inch of
skin he could find while Derek's mouth spent every minute unerringly on the
breadth of his shoulders.
When Derek slid down to mouth bites down his spine, Stiles could feel the
length of Derek's cock rub against the crack of his ass. Stiles couldn't help
but arch into it, causing Derek to moan, which was a sound he could hear for
the rest of his life and never tire of it.
"Soon," Derek promised, and surprised him by skipping over the small of his
back and instead spreading his cheeks wide and licking right across his pucker.
Stiles pressed back against Derek's mouth, not caring about whatever words
poured from his lips. It too much, too good, and he didn't care about anything
but Derek continuing.
"God, Stiles, you taste so good," Derek's voice was thick with want, and Stiles
could feel Derek's thumb rubbing against him, pressing in just the tiniest bit
before he was back to nipping Stiles' rim with his teeth.
Derek's stubble was mostly blocked by the position of his hands, but the parts
that rubbed against his skin felt smoother than he'd expected, soft, adding
just enough sensation to make his skin tingle deliciously.
No amount of time spent fingering himself while wanking could have prepared him
for the way it felt when Derek pressed his finger inside of him. Stiles moved
to get it in deeper, but Derek gripped his hip with his other hand and stilled
him. "Stiles," Derek said, almost pleading, "just...let me."
"Yeah, yeah, just, oh god, Derek." Stiles tried to be good, tried to let Derek
take his time, but every single inch of him felt about two seconds away from
begging for more.
Derek licked at him again, pressing another finger inside, stretching him with
quick, eager movements. "I...you're..."
Stiles spread his knees a little bit wider, titled his hips as far as Derek
would let him, and tried not to think about how badly he wanted to hump against
the mattress just to get the tiniest bit of friction against his cock. Then he
felt the strangest sensation along side the third finger Derek pushed inside of
him. He turned enough to glance down at Derek over his shoulder, and saw the
faintest lines traveling up Derek's arm. He had to muffle a laugh against the
pillow, because of course. Scott and Isaac used their power to help puppies,
and Derek used his to make sex easier. It, somehow, made it all the more
perfect.
"Stiles," Derek said, a prayer and a warning all at once, because Derek half-
crawled up the bed to mouth at his neck again as he finally, finally pushed his
cock inside.
As soon as Stiles could, he pressed back, wanting to feel every inch of Derek
inside of him. Any illusion Derek had about going slow disappeared as Stiles
fucked himself back on Derek's cock, with short, desperate jerks of his hips.
"Jesus, Stiles, fuck, fuck," Derek panted out against his shoulder, moving his
hands forward until their fingers were twined, his chest blanketed Stiles'
back, and Derek's thighs, legs, were pressed tight against Stiles' own. The
only space between them were the bare moments when Derek pulled out just enough
to shove back in.
Stiles turned his head as much as he could, and finally let himself beg,
"Derek, kiss me, please."
Before he could even finish speaking, Derek's lips were on his own, in a wet,
messy kiss that was teeth and tongue and panting hot breath against each
other's lips. "I'm...god, Stiles. I'm...it's...I'm going to fucking knot you,"
Derek vowed, "and then you'll be mine. Stiles, Stiles."
"Yes, oh god, yes, Derek. Do it. I want it. Now, please. Jesus. Knot me and
I'll be fucking yours." Stiles didn't even know what he was saying anymore. He
didn't care. Every thrust made him feel like he was two seconds away from
coming. Derek wouldn't let go of his fingers to jerk himself, and Stiles just
knew Derek wanted him to come from Derek's cock alone.
"It's just details," Derek promised, biting at Stiles' ear. "You're already
mine."
With that, Derek licked a path down to his shoulder, kissed it, and then bit
the back of his neck while shoving his hips as far as he could against Stiles.
He didn't know if it was the teeth at his neck, or the way Derek's cock was
swelling in his ass, but Stiles came helplessly a moment later.
Derek rolled to his side, taking Stiles with him. Every single burst of come
inside of him sent shivers throughout his body. Stiles couldn't talk, couldn't
think, because he was still reeling from intensity of his orgasm.
It took him a moment to realize there was a hand rubbing at the skin right
below his belly button. It grounded him in a way he didn't even know he needed.
Derek hadn't stopped kissing the mark from the claiming bite on his shoulder.
Stiles could feel Derek whisper something against his skin, but couldn't make
it out. It didn't really matter what it was, Stiles thought he knew what it
meant anyhow.
Ten minutes later, Derek's knot receded enough for him to pull out, which
subsequently sent Stiles' already sensitive nerves into overdrive. He flopped
onto his back, and tried to find the will to walk to the bathroom to get
cleaned up. On the other hand, Stiles figured there was no point if he was just
going to get messy all over again.
"Oh my god, tell me we can do that again as soon as the feeling returns to my
legs," Stiles gasped out, staring wonderingly at the ceiling. Sex was the best
thing ever; he’d totally called it.
Derek lifted his head up from the pillow and glanced at him. "How are you still
awake?"
"I'm very excitable."
There was a muffled chuckle. "I noticed."
"Hey, hey," Stiles managed to roll onto his side. "I didn't see you
complaining."
"I wasn't," Derek said, mostly into the pillow. "Nap time."
"What about round two? Where's your Alpha pride?" Stiles cajoled. Because,
dude, sex was brilliant and he should always be having it from now until
forever.
Derek snaked his arm out and snagged Stiles to curl closer to him. "Sleep now.
Sex later."
Stiles turned around in Derek's arms and countered, "Sex now. Sleep later."
"Really?" Derek asked, opening one eye to look at him. "You're not tired at
all, are you?"
Shifting closer so Derek could feel just how not tired he was, Stiles licked
his lips. "Not really, no."
"I should have expected this," Derek said, but the complaint fell flat when
Derek's fingers played with the come that leaked out of him.
Stiles moaned his agreement against the skin of Derek's chest, then something
occurred to him and he pulled back to look at Derek, whose fingers were now
stroking inside of him. "It worked, ah, right? The power tha-thing. Ohgodyes.
Did you feel it... um... course through you?"
Derek added another finger and said, "I felt something course through me. Can't
say for sure it was power."
Stiles choked on a sound that was half laugh, half moan. "Yeah. So."
Cutting him off, Derek asked, "Do you want to talk about this now or am I going
to flip you over and fuck you through the mattress again?"
"Between options one and two, I choose ‘B’," Stiles said fervently.
"Good choice."
                                      ***
"Why'd you say yes to this?" Derek asked, tone serious. It was completely
unfair, too, because the room was dark, and Derek was plastered against his
back, cock knotted and tying them together so Stiles couldn't pretend he had
elsewhere to be or feign sleeping.
Stiles toyed with the pillowcase under his head and tried not to be distracted
by the intermittent pulses of come inside of him. "To protect Dad. You knew
that when I agreed."
"That's part of it," Derek agreed, "but it's not the only reason why."
"How do you know?" Stiles asked, because he hated giving away more than he had
to with the annoying werewolf population.
Derek kissed his neck, shifted his hips a bit, and rubbed gently at his belly.
"Because you're being far too agreeable."
"Ha!" Stiles said, and elbowed Derek (which only caused him pain). "Multiple
orgasms hold sway over many a man, in many a situation."
He felt Derek tense behind him for a moment before relaxing again. "True,"
Derek said, his voice briefly tight. "But you agreed to this before any orgasms
were involved. If you say it was because of 'the future promise of orgasms' or
whatever it is you're going to say, I'll call bullshit and ask you again."
Feeling annoyed that Derek caught him out—that was exactly what he was going to
say—Stiles pouted a moment. "Fine. Despite the fact all of this supernatural
drama is to blame for the catastrophe that has become my life, I'm in it for
the long haul. Not just to help Scott, but because I can't un-know what I know.
And I can't stand around and let bad shit happen to people I care about. I may
not be able to spout claws and howl at the moon, but I can do this. Not have
hot sex, which I clearly am capable of doing, but being your mate. Helping you
with the Alpha pack. It's something I can do. Something important."
Derek didn't respond, but Stiles hadn't expected him to because emotions tended
to make Derek break out in hives. Stiles totally empathized with that. Derek
pressed his lips to Stiles' neck again, giving him a quick squeeze, and
whispered, "Thanks."
                                      ***
It took about two weeks for Stiles to notice something strange. To be fair to
himself, he spent the entire fortnight vacillating between being extremely
horny and having mind-blowing sex. It didn't occur to him until he was sitting
at home, ready to commandeer his dad's patrol car—since his beloved Jeep was
once more in the shop—to find Derek, that the intensity of his horniness was
odd.
He called Derek, and said as soon as the phone picked up, "I think there's
something strange going on."
"Explain," Derek bit out, and he could hear the clink of keys in the
background.
Stiles gripped the arm of his chair. "I want your dick to an insane degree."
"Is this your attempt at dirty talk?" Derek asked, slow and amused.
"No!" Stiles bit out, frustrated. "Not to dismiss your sexilicious charms, but
it's more than that. I mean. I know regular teenage horniness, and this isn't
it. And it's not just that I get to actually have all the sex I'm fantasizing
about, either. And believe me I know what level of being turned on is normal
for me. It's never been like this. Not even after I saw Lydia naked—although,
there was the whole crazy girl lost in the woods things to detract from it—or
the time I saw her in nothing but her nightie—but that also had the downer of
her being drugged out of her mind and then calling me Jackson—but, still, point
remains."
"Stiles," Derek said, exasperated.
He sighed. "Derek, I'm so hot for your dick right now that I'm actually
restraining myself from stealing my dad's car to track you down and tear off
your clothes and ride you until I can't move."
"Are you sure this isn't a bad attempt at dirty talk?"
"I'd bang you even if I knew Peter was in the room."
There was a moment of thick silence and then Derek said firmly, "I'm coming
over."
As soon as Derek hung up, Stiles tore off his clothes and flung himself on the
bed. He felt like he was vibrating out of his skin. First, they'd have sex.
Then, they could discuss what the hell was going on. But the important thing
was that Derek fucked him first, otherwise he wouldn't be able to concentrate
on forming coherent thoughts.
                                      ***
The bed was a mess of sheets and sweat and come when Stiles glanced over at
Derek, still slightly breathless, and said, "Now, about why I called you. Sooo…
I kinda want to bone you all the time."
Derek glanced over at his face, then let his gaze trail down the length of his
body to where the sheets were pooled around their waists, and then back up to
Stiles' face. And then he started laughing. Hard. Five minutes later he was
mostly under control and asked, "Are you sure about that?"
"Shut up, dude. You know what I meant. Like I'm supernaturally randy or
something. It's as distracting as it is rewarding. Can you channel your inner
wolfman and super scent out what's going on?"
Rolling his eyes, Derek shifted onto his side and pushed himself up with his
elbow. "Let me…" he said, trailing off. He ran his nose along Stiles neck, up
to the skin behind his ear, and back down again until he reached the juncture
between his neck and shoulder.
"Get anything good?" Stiles asked, ignoring the way his cock gave a feeble
twitch of interest. If his life ever stopped being in danger, quick recovery
and stamina was a check-mark in the plus column for getting turned.
Derek mumbled something like an agreement against his throat and then proceeded
to distract Stiles from the conversation for another forty minutes.
It wasn't until they were tied, again, Derek rubbing his hands up and down
Stiles' sides that he even had enough brain power to continue the conversation.
"Um…" Stiles said, clenching around Derek's knot. "Smell anything?" Small words
were good. Easy to make.
"You," Derek replied, seemingly disinterested in elaborating.
Stiles sighed. "What about me?"
"Smell good," Derek said, and then he promptly fell asleep, nose tucked into
the nape of his neck.
Typical.
                                      ***
It occurred to Stiles the following morning as he stuffed his disgusting sheets
into the washer that it'd been over two weeks since he'd last seen Scott, too
busy floating around in an orgasmic haze.
"Dude, you wanna come over?" Stiles said when Scott answered the phone. He
agreed and Stiles went back to mentally composing haiku about Derek's dick.
Suddenly it grows. In the middle of the night. Curly fries are good. Whatever,
he wasn't a poet, okay?
Scott showed up about ten minutes after Stiles had finished remaking his bed
with clean, unsaturated-with-come-sheets. "Ugh," he complained, flumping down
on Stiles' hard work. "I'm tired."
"Why?" Stiles asked, hoping it wasn't something related to Allison. Sure, Scott
loved her, but she also went over the edge and Stiles didn't want to fight with
Scott if he couldn't keep his opinions to himself, which he rarely ever did
with Scott.
Scott looked at him like it should be obvious. "Dealing with the Alpha pack all
the time."
From what Derek said, all he asked Scott to do was run a few circuits around
the woods and town to track where their scents were. Stiles tried very hard to
muster up some sympathy for him. A good friend would offer a distraction to
someone who looked so clearly downtrodden by the cruel, cruel world. And Stiles
was a very good friend indeed.
With a sigh, Stiles sat down next to him. "Tell me about it. That is
exhausting. Every single day, man."
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, bemused. "You never said anything about Derek
making you help with the Alpha pack."
"Oh, he's not making me," Stiles said, grin curling his lips. "Well, in a
manner of speaking he is making me, but I totally volunteered."
Scott sat up and gave him a look that begged for an explanation. "You're not
taking too much Adderall again just so you can do research for him, are you?"
"Nah, dude," Stiles said, waving a hand at him. "I agreed to be his mate. For
the power boost. But we weren't sure if it was just being mated that gave him a
power boost or if each time you mated with your mate it gave you a boost. So,
we're covering allllll the bases." Stiles tried not to laugh at the look of
utter revulsion on Scott's face. "I boost his power two, three times a day,
now, at least."
"What? How are you doing that? How are you keeping your heart steady? It's like
as if you're telling the truth." Scott looked a bit wild around the edges as he
paced Stiles' floor.
Stiles simply reclined against his pillows and gave him a cheeky grin. "Who
said I'm lying?"
"You don't even like him," Scott said, sitting down heavily in Stiles' computer
chair.
"When did I ever say that?" Stiles deflected, stretching a bit. "I don't
remember saying that."
Scott glared at him. "It was less than a month ago!"
"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, smiling. "Well, he put up a pretty persuasive argument
in his favor."
"The sex," Scott said flatly. "That you're having with the Alpha. The guy who
you asked Allison to shoot in the head with a crossbow."
"Forgive and forget, that's what I say," Stiles said because all those things
were true; they just didn't seem important anymore. And, honestly, did Scott
actually want to go there? The amount of shit Stiles had to deal with because
Scott insisted on boning the daughter of the bugfuck craziest hunter family in
existence negated any room Scott had to judge.
"Whatever, dude," Scott said, deflating. Then he sat up again and pointed at
Stiles. "Wait a minute. So, you're saying your contribution to dealing with
this Alpha pack is getting laid?"
"Not just getting laid," Stiles countered. "Getting laid a lot." Stiles thought
perhaps mentioning the fact that there seemed to be some sort of Alpha mating
magic mojo amping up his already pretty damned active libido wasn't a great
idea. Scott would probably attack Derek, blaming him when it was mostly Stiles
demanding Derek fulfill his duties as both his Alpha and mate. (And that was
mainly because calling Derek the Alpha was the quickest way to get him to do
what Stiles wanted, namely Stiles.)
"So, what," Scott said, looking a bit green. "He comes over here. For that. His
'power boost'. Then leaves?"
"We also talk about stuff, too," Stiles added, but neglected to mention that
mostly what they talked about was their favorite movies, debates over baseball,
and which decade produced the best music. For reasons he was currently not
dissecting, Stiles was content to leave all the conversations they had when
they were tied to himself. "Yanno. In between all the fantastic sex."
"Aren't you..." Scott started to ask, before breaking off into a furious blush.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Aren't I...what? Smarter than all the werewolves,
combined? Devilishly handsome and charming? Having both better quantity and
quality sex than you? Yes, to all of them."
"No," Scott said, scowling and Stiles could see him visibly resist arguing over
the last point, which pleased him greatly. Payback was a bitch. "I meant aren't
you, yanno, sore?" Scott whispered the last word as if saying it quietly would
make the conversation less awkward.
Stiles stretched a bit on the bed, flexing his limbs. He felt good—better than,
actually—and just the slightest bit ready for Scott to get back to whatever
annoying werewolf duties Derek had assigned him so he could see about possibly
arranging a booty call. "Nope. Derek works his mojo," Stiles said, flexing his
hand to illustrate, "while we're going at it. Works like a charm."
"Ugh," Scott said feelingly. "TMI, dude."
"Do you really want to go there?" Stiles asked, glancing at his nails, glancing
at Scott out of the corner of his eye. "If you really wanted, I could give you
the same level of details you gave me when you started sleeping with Allison."
"Hey," Scott said, smiling brightly, too brightly. "I just remembered I was
supposed to go do something. An essay. It's due tomorrow. Bye!"
"It's summertime, dumbass," Stiles yelled down the stairs after Scott, who
didn't deign to reply when he jetted out the door. "It's just too easy."
Stiles went back into his room and flopped down on his bed. It had been too
long since he'd last seen Derek and his belly squirmed a bit just thinking of
him. Everything below his waist felt tight and warm and tingled with
anticipation, so he picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Derek to let
him know the house was empty of everything but him.
Derek was on his bed, on him, in him less than ten minutes later. Sometimes,
Derek could be so slow.
                                      ***
"Stiles!" Scott yelled loudly into the earpiece of the phone. Stiles pulled it
away a bit and grimaced.
"Yes, Scott?" Stiles asked pleasantly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Change the ringback tone!" Scott demanded. "It's not funny."
Sniggering into his pillow, Stiles replied, "I disagree. It's very funny. And a
PSA all rolled into one. Barring pronoun issues and such."
"I do not want to hear "I Just Had Sex" every time I call you," Scott said,
petulant, and Derek chuckled. "Hey! Tell me Derek's not over there. He only
goes over when you two are... Ugh!"
Stiles tried, and failed, not to laugh. "I did say it was a PSA, did I not? I
changed Derek's, too. To "You Shook Me All Night Long."
"I hate you," Scott growled and hung up.
Chucking the phone back on the side table, Stiles turned and glanced at Derek
over his shoulder. He'd stopped thrusting when Stiles had answered the phone.
"Quit slacking."
                                      ***
Later, when Stiles fetched his phone, he found a series of expletive laced
texts from Scott and then a final one which simply said, Wut abt Lydia?
Stiles sent back Wut abt her? because it was amazing how much a couple of weeks
of constant sex and company and fun could put things in perspective. Sure,
maybe Derek had more baggage than an airport, but Derek was always around and
he hadn't heard from Lydia once since her 'love' cured Jackson. It wasn't so
bad to relegate his crush on Lydia to fond—and not so fond—memories of his past
and to start focusing on what, and who, he did have.
u used 2 rite poems abt her.
wnt 2 hear my haiku abt Derek's dick?
NO! IHU!
Stiles snorted and tossed his phone back on his night stand. One day it would
stop being fun harassing Scott when he was being a jerk. Today was not that
day.
"What are you doing?" Derek asked, he lifted his head off Stiles' belly and
gave him a sleepy-eyed glare.
"Harassing Scott," Stiles replied with a small poke to the center of Derek's
forehead.
Derek snorted. "Harass him more quietly. I'm trying to sleep."
"On me," Stiles pointed out. It wasn't a complaint, though, not really.
"How observant," Derek muttered, closing his eyes again. He reached up blindly
and covered Stiles' face with his hand. "Sleep."
"I feel like I'm forgetting something," Stiles said, shifting down a bit so he
could rest his head on his pillows. Derek grumpily waited for him to settle
down before placing his head back on Stiles' belly.
"You're forgetting to shut up and go to sleep."
"No, I'm remembering to do the opposite of what you say just to piss you off."
"Achievement unlocked."
Stiles laughed before he could stop himself. "I didn't even have to teach you
that reference. I'm proud."
"I didn't spend the last six years living in a cave in the woods."
Rolling his eyes, Stiles ran his fingers through Derek's hair. To annoy him,
not pet him. Derek, the contrary bastard, let out a pleased sound in response.
"About the dickhead werewolves descending upon our beloved town...aren't we
supposed to be doing something about them? Other than fucking?"
Derek sighed heavily. "Scott and I have worked out an arrangement on keeping
track of them."
"I had wondered why Scott was listening to you. And actually doing what you
asked. It was odd. I was about to start looking for a pod."
"You're hilarious." Derek curled his hand around Stiles' hip. "We're not doing
anything because they're not doing anything, yet."
Stiles was surprised that Derek was even contemplating a sane, rational 'wait
and see' approach. He'd gone in claws blazing into way too many situations for
Stiles to have any faith in Derek's diplomatic skills. "Good boy. Remind me to
give you a treat."
"It'd be a treat if you shut the hell up and let me sleep."
It was almost too much of a temptation to argue back, but Stiles was a bit
tired and Derek had used his brain and Stiles believed in rewarding good
behavior, so he closed his eyes and kept playing with Derek's hair until he
fell asleep.
                                      ***
"I think something even stranger is happening to me." Stiles didn't even know
how to explain. His face heated up just thinking about it.
"What?" Derek asked, looking concerned. At least this time, he didn't have the
'you sure this isn't dirty talk' expression on his face.
Stiles kicked at the corner of his bed and did his best to avoid Derek's gaze.
"So, there's this thing with... yanno. My... uh..." Stiles waved his hand in
the general vicinity of his ass. "It's different. Inside. I've been... uh.
Wet?"
The silence in the room was thick and tense. "Show me."
"Show you?" Stiles yelped. "What do you mean, show you?"
"I mean exactly that. Show me." Derek got to his feet and glowered at Stiles
until he began shucking off his clothes. Not exactly a new experience for them,
these days, but it felt more awkward than it had been that first time. He
crawled onto the bed on all fours and buried his face in a pillow and tried to
pretend he was doing anything else but letting Derek analyze his anus. Because
it was beyond bizarre and with everything that'd happened recently, that was
saying something.
"Oh," Derek said, spreading his cheeks apart and rubbing his thumb along the
rim. He pressed one finger inside and Stiles bit down on a moan. "Oh."
"Hey," Stiles said, turning his face just enough to speak clearly. "You're
getting off on this. That's... I don't even know." He was too embarrassed to
even make a crack about playing Dirty Doctor and Naughty Nurse. If he ever
stopped being horrified by the situation, he'd have to save that one for later.
"Shut up," Derek said, voice low. "Let me." And with that, he was spreading
Stiles wider, pushing his finger in deeper. It felt different than before,
deeper, and Stiles suddenly couldn't stand another minute without Derek inside
of him.
"Fuck me, then," Stiles groaned. "Quit playing and just fuck me."
                                      ***
Stiles waited all of ten seconds for Derek to continue playing with his ass
before he squirmed off the bed. Derek still looked in a bit of a daze, so
Stiles shoved and tugged and prodded at him until he was sitting up at the head
of Stiles' bed, naked and hard, just the way Stiles wanted him.
"Guide it in," Stiles demanded after he'd crawled back on the bed, and moved to
straddle Derek backwards. "I can't see from this position."
Derek hurried to obey, gripping Stiles' shoulder with one hand, and pressing
his cock inside Stiles with other. Stiles sat back as soon as the head of
Derek's cock was fully inside him.
"Oh, god that feels so fucking good," Stiles groaned, letting his head fall
back against Derek's shoulder. "Kiss me."
"Bossy," Derek mumbled, but kissed him anyway, running his hand down Stiles'
chest and belly until he wrapped it around Stiles' dick.
He'd been too horny, too desperate to last for long. Stiles reached down and
gripped the arm jacking him around the wrist, digging in his nails, and came.
Derek panted wetly against his neck, stilling his hand only when Stiles made
him. "God, can I?"
Nodding mutely, Stiles allowed Derek to shift them onto their sides, where
Derek wrapped his hand around the back of Stiles' knee, spreading his legs wide
as he thrust. "Jesus, Derek," Stiles cursed, already feeling himself get hard
again. Everything inside felt wet and deep, and every thrust echoed wetly in
the room, making Stiles torn between arousal and embarrassment over how needy
his body sounded, even to his own ears.
If anything, it seemed to turn Derek on even more than he usually was if Stiles
went by the multitude of hickies Stiles felt Derek sucking along his neck and
shoulders. "I just want your dick in me all the time," he admitted shamelessly.
"It's so good, so thick. Perfect for me. Fits so good. Want your knot all the
time."
"Fuck," Derek yelled, hips thrusting faster than Stiles thought possible in
this position. Then, as if beckoned by his words alone, Stiles felt the
familiar pressure of Derek's knot growing inside of him, feeling more right
than it ever had, like his body had changed just so it could take it better
than he'd ever done before.
His second orgasm came at him like a surprise, washing over him before he'd
ever registered getting hard again.
"Stiles," Derek panted, another burst of come coating his channel, "god, I
can't even think around you."
It was the same for him, even if Stiles didn't want to admit it, so he just
twisted enough so the could kiss.
Kissing beat talking any day.
                                      ***
"Derek," Stiles said, grateful that he couldn't see Derek's face when they were
tied like this. It made it easier to talk. "Why, uh, is my body changing? I
don't remember reading about this. All it said about Alpha mates was blah,
blah, an increase in power, blah, blah, mystical life force energy, something,
something, soul bond."
"I'm not exactly sure," Derek said, sounding pained by the admission. "I never
knew any Alphas with human mates. We could ask Deaton."
"Ugh," Stiles said, feelingly. "Do we have to?"
Derek kissed behind his ear and Stiles could feel him shrug. "The only other
person I can think to ask is Peter."
"I was afraid of that." Stiles clenched his eyes close for a moment. "Deaton it
is."
"It'll be fine," Derek said, trying his best to simultaneously offer him
comfort and come in his ass. That was his Alpha: king of multitasking. "Just
relax and we'll sort this out tomorrow."
                                      ***
Stiles pushed the cart around the grocery store and tried not to think about
his upcoming visit to Deaton's with Derek. He had the feeling that he was going
to regret finding out what was going on with him.
He was staring at a package of Not Dogs, wondering if his dad would taste the
difference when someone bumped into his cart. Stiles looked up and saw a woman
in her late twenties looking incredibly stressed and obviously pregnant. It
took a moment of being viciously jealous before he came back to himself long
enough to say, "Do you need help?"
"No, thank you," she said, and waddled off in the other direction, muttering
about needing cottage cheese with pineapple chunks in it and green pimento
olives.
Stiles stared down at the floor, stymied. Why, why had he looked at her belly
and thought I wish that were me. That was crazy, it was. Crazy. He obviously
had spent too much of his summer in his room, inhaling the sex fumes, instead
of going outdoors in the sunshine. (Privately, Stiles still didn't understand
Derek's resistance to doing it in the woods or the backseat of the Camaro, but
Derek usually derailed most of his arguments by sucking his cock. It worked
like a charm. Sometimes Stiles even came up with stupid suggestions just
because he liked the way Derek distracted him.)
Trying to get his thoughts off Derek and back on the current weirdness
infecting his life, Stiles tossed the Not Dogs into the cart and decided
ketchup and mustard could hide a multitude of sins. A few minutes later, he saw
the woman again, rubbing her hand absently against her belly, and fought the
urge to text Derek and order him to step it up. But that was insane. There was
no place for Derek to step. And Stiles didn't want to be pregnant, not really.
It was just an odd idea that got trapped in one of his weird brainwaves. What
he needed was a little sex with a little knotting and Derek willing to indulge
in one of his many role-playing suggestions.
Stiles refused, adamantly, to consider the implications otherwise.
He picked up the We Can't Say It's Cheese spread and chucked it in the basket.
Dad probably wouldn't forgive him for shopping when he was in a mood.
Oh, well. Schadenfreude. It was a thing.
                                      ***
Hairy shaft and balls
Knot what you're looking for?
Speedos. Make a note.
Stiles sent Scott the text while he waited for Derek to arrive at Deaton's.
ill tell ur dad abt disneyland
Oooh, Stiles thought as he read the text. His buddy was finally growing into
his claws. ill tell ur mom abt KFC
Derek pulled in the parking lot and got out of his car, smiling when he saw
Stiles. And it hit Stiles that it'd been over a month since the last time he'd
seen Derek brood.
Scott shot him back: truce? and Stiles figured he could leave off the
harassment for a day, so he agreed.
"Hey," Stiles said as soon as Derek reached him. "I just noticed that you
seemed," Stiles paused, not knowing how to put it without sounding like a dick,
"happier lately? What's up?"
Derek's expression folded into confusion for a moment before he said, slowly,
"I now devote several hours every day to having sex with you, Stiles. Of
course, I'm in a better mood."
"Oh!" Stiles replied, incredibly pleased. "Well, can't let up on your daily
dose of happiness. Withdrawal is a bitch, so I hear."
Derek ruffled his hair and gave his neck a quick squeeze, nodding at the door.
"Ready to go in?"
"If I said 'no', could we pretend nothing's happening and have a quickie in the
back of your car?"
Smirking a little, Derek shook his head. "No. You've stood up to every single
werewolf and supernatural creature in this town over the last eight months.
Don't tell me you're going to let a little talk with the vet scare you off."
That's right, Stiles thought. He was one badass motherfucker and no one better
forget it. Otherwise he'd bleed in their general direction after getting his
ass kicked. "Yeah, let's go."
"Hello," Dr. Deaton greeted, his trademark placid smile on his face. "What
brings you here today, gentlemen?"
Stiles and Derek eyed each other, both trying to silently goad the other into
explaining. Finally, Stiles just sighed and gave Dr. Deaton a pained grimace.
"So, um. We mated? And now. Uh. Stuff's changing," Stiles pointed at the floor,
"down there."
"The floor, Mr. Stilinski?" Deaton asked, because he was secretly a dick.
Stiles scowled. "You know what I mean."
"Ah, yes, it so happens that I do," Deaton said, failing to elaborate in favor
of giving Derek an 'I'm totally judging you' stare.
"Well," Stiles asked, tapping his foot. He really didn't know how everyone was
fooled into thinking Deaton was a nice guy. He really wasn't.
Deaton turned his attention back to Stiles and gave him a 'you're totes fucked,
babe' smirk. "It appears that you're preparing yourself for your first heat. As
is custom shortly after mating and will continue to happen periodically
throughout a mate's fertile years."
"Hold up, hold up," Stiles said, illustrating his point by raising his hand.
"Heat? Fertile years? I'm a dude and so is he," Stiles jutted his thumb over
his shoulder to Derek, whose face lost a bit of color and whose eyebrows had
risen almost to his hairline.
"And, normally, that would make it an entirely non-issue. However, as is often
the case with the supernatural world, different rules apply."
"How do we stop it?" Derek asked, finally having found his voice. Stiles would
be proud, but he was too anxious to hear the answer.
Deaton's entire demeanor radiated smugness when he said, "His heat will end
with his pregnancy, of course. Don't worry, Stiles. It's very likely that
you'll find yourself very willing, enthusiastic even, to gestate when your heat
fully manifests."
Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, pointing at Deaton with an
accusatory finger. He was enjoying this far too much, the fucker. However, no
words would come to him and it didn't help that he was starting to feel the
warm curl in his belly that meant that his need for Derek would soon demand his
attention. "I think I need to go home now."
Deaton just smiled and nodded like it was the best idea he'd ever heard and
muttered something to Derek as he left.
"I'll meet you there in a bit," Derek said, and stayed behind to find out
whatever vague bullshit Deaton wanted to heap on him.
Stiles got into his Jeep, took a few deep breaths, and tried to think of the
upsides. For one, he no longer had to be jealous of random pregnant ladies in
the grocery store. And even better, just think of the loads of material he'd
have with which to harass Scott. There were other things, he was sure, even if
he couldn't think of them.
His head was so full of everything he'd just heard that he started to drive
home on autopilot. "Damn," he muttered to himself when he realized he was more
than halfway home already. It'd be much harder to badger Derek into spilling
whatever crap Deaton had to say if had time to prepare for Stiles waylaying
him.
When he got home, he headed straight to the kitchen because Derek was at least
twenty percent more pliable when fed and Stiles could use the time to think. He
grabbed a box of Kraft, because Derek was easily impressed by the miracle that
was boiling water on a stove.
It wouldn't be so bad, would it? There were bonuses to the whole situation. He
could...torment Scott a bit. That was a plus. Then there was all the sex he'd
be having to get pregnant. Now, that was something he could get behind. More
sex. All the sex. Epic levels of sex, even. Stiles reached into the fridge and
pulled out the milk and butter.
Derek came through the front door as he stirred in the powdered cheese.
"Kraft?"
He sounded stupidly excited about the prospect of processed cheese and Stiles
didn't find it adorable in the least. "Yep. So, what did Deaton have to say?"
The scowl on Derek's face said that he knew exactly what Stiles was doing, but
apparently he was willing to be bribed, because he answered as soon Stiles
passed him a bowl and a fork. "He wanted to warn me about how your heat will
affect me and how to deal with it."
"Lemme guess, you're going to turn into a furry caveman?" Stiles asked, then
scrunched his face. "My Stiles. No Touch! Grrrr."
"Pretty much," Derek agreed, between bites, sounding aggrieved.
Stiles sat down across from him, expression sly. "So, if I flirted with
someone, you'd, what, beat 'em up and then take me home to have your wicked way
with me?"
"If you flirt with either Jackson or my uncle, I may lose the will to ever get
it up again."
"Damnit. Another perfect plan dashed, ruined, destroyed!"
Derek just gave him a look. "You'll survive."
"I guess that means I'm going to spend the rest of summer inside for the most
part," Stiles complained, wondering if Derek would let him steal a bite of
Kraft or if he'd stab him with the fork. "God knows what my dad thinks I've
been doing holed up in my room all summer. Especially since I've been washing
my sheets every other day, no thanks to you."
"I never hear you complaining," Derek said, curling his hand around the bowl so
he could better protect it. Damn, Stiles must have been projecting his
intentions again. He needed to work on that.
Stiles just scoffed. "Of course you do. All the time."
"Oh, Derek, do it harder," Derek said in an irritating falsetto. "Yeah, that's
not a complaint."
"You are the worst."
"That's not what you said last night." Derek got up and walked over to sink to
wash his bowl and fork and thus missed the dirty look Stiles sent him.
"I'm never going to say the things I never said last night ever again," Stiles
vowed. "Oh yeah, wash the pan, too. I am going to my room so I can ignore that
fact you exist."
"You do that," Derek said, and grabbed the pan off the stove.
Stiles escaped to his room, intending on immersing himself in some sort of
research so he could pretend Derek was an invisible phantom for the next two
hours. Except, once he got up there, all he could think about was the things he
most definitely did not say to Derek the night before and all the things Derek
did to get him to not say those things he didn't say.
His clothes hit the floor before he had time to change his mind and he flung
himself on the bed.
"Hey," Stiles said when Derek opened the door to his bedroom. Derek looked the
slightest bit dumbstruck, likely dealing with the whiplash of Stiles' emotions
going from irritated to horny in under five minutes. He didn't even move when
Stiles beckoned him over. "I'm not gonna knock up myself, Oh Alpha, My Alpha,
so come on and get to work."
"With an offer like that," Derek said, voice sounding rough, "how could I
refuse?"
                                      ***
Derek was a firm presence behind him when Stiles' brain cleared enough to
register his surroundings. Stiles clenched around Derek's knot, eyes widening
in realization. "Oh my god, what're you doing?" he asked, trying to awkwardly
turn to glare at Derek over his shoulder. "What am I doing?"
"What?" Derek asked, voice still stupid with sex. "You told me to?"
Stiles scowled. "When has that ever been incentive enough to do stupid things?"
Derek rubbed Stiles' belly in comfort, probably because he couldn't figure out
anything to say in his defense.
"You're into this!" Stiles accused, trying to glare at Derek again. "You want
to knock me up with your weirdo mystical Alpha sperm and your weirdo mystical
Alpha junk!"
"Um," Derek said, and Stiles could feel another burst of come inside of him.
"No?"
"Liar," Stiles said, suddenly tired. "Fine, fine. I blame you."
"For what?" Derek asked, sounding more amused than anything, which led Stiles
to believe Derek was still floating in the good-judgment altering orgasmic haze
instead of firing on all cylinders.
Stiles tried not get horny again, and failed, when Derek's hand dipped lower
than his belly and onto his cock. "For everything. Just. Everything."
"Want me to stop?" Derek sounded like he meant it even if his voice was still
tinged with humor.
Wrapping his hand around Derek's, Stiles helped him jack his cock properly.
"No," he said, petulant. "Just do it right."
                                      ***
"I don't care what Deaton said, there's no way I'm ever going to think this is
a good idea," Stiles said, vehemently. "Actually, I'm fairly sure this is one
of the worst I've ever been privy to."
Derek sat passively in the chair at Stiles' desk. "You can't argue your way out
of your heat."
"Watch me," Stiles said, "If I managed to convince Scott to dye his pubes green
because it'd make his junk look bigger, then I can most certainly argue myself
out of crazy mating hormones."
"Don't hurt yourself," Derek said, and Stiles took a minute to decide whether
he was being mocking or sweet. He settled on mocking, because it'd work in his
favor, but he had a feeling it was actually the latter.
Stiles tossed a pillow at Derek's head, which was caught because Derek was a
jerk who never let him have any fun. "I'm not going to breed you a litter of
sourwolves, Alphornicator."
"Don't call me that," Derek said, tossing the pillow back, hitting him in the
face. Stiles glared at Derek, then tucked the pillow under his head.
"Whatever," Stiles muttered. He'd call Derek whatever he wanted to call him. "I
don't think even my undoubtedly superior DNA can overcome the deficit of
yours."
"What's wrong with my genes?" Derek asked, not even bothering to sound
offended. Stiles focused on the area below Derek's belt because whenever he
looked at Derek's face, he wanted to kiss it. Jerk.
Stiles huffed. "What isn't? Your baby would probably scowl at me non-stop and
insist on leather diapers."
"Don't forget the sunglasses," Derek added helpfully.
"You're no fun when you play along," Stiles complained, and then went back to
staring at the bulge in Derek's jeans. "Wouldn't mind if you got naked,
though."
"You want sex?" Derek asked, shifting in the chair. Stiles didn't know if it
was his imagination, but it looked as if Derek's cock throbbed in response.
"Now?"
"Yeah, now," Stiles agreed, "but if you knock me up, I'll tear off your nuts
and play Lacrosse with them."
"Sexy," Derek said, because he was a bitch.
Just when Stiles decided to get up from his bed to be more proactive in his
tempting Derek into playing his favorite game: Fun With Penises, Derek's phone
started singing He did the Mash. He did the Monster Mash.
Stiles bit his lip to stop himself from cracking up over the look of utter
loathing Derek sent him before he answered the call.
"What?" Derek greeted, charming as always. "Fine. Whatever. I'll be there
soon."
"Is it an actual emergency?" Stiles asked the minute Derek ended the call. "Or
did one of your puppies make a mess on the carpet again?"
Derek didn't grouch about him calling his poor life choices one, two, and three
puppies, so Stiles got to his feet, anxious.
"Stiles," Derek said, apparently sensing his distress. "It's nothing." The look
on his face must have conveyed something along the lines of bullshit, because
Derek immediately amended, "It's nothing you need to worry about. Peter just
got an email from an old friend. It had some information that might be
relevant. They're going to be on Skype later. Peter wants me there."
"I'd ask to come along, but I really don't want to see your creepy ass uncle
just yet." Stiles moved around Derek to sit down at his desk. He could get back
to work on some of the more frustrating translations if he wasn't going to get
to have sex.
"Try not to get in trouble," Derek said, leaning down to give him a kiss. "I
have patrol tonight, so I won't be able to come back until tomorrow."
Stiles smiled. "Get into trouble and host a wild sex party in your absence.
Check."
Derek looked heavenward for a moment, then gave Stiles another kiss, longer and
deeper than the last. "Tomorrow."
                                      ***
"So," Stiles said, giving Derek the most earnest expression he could muster. "I
think I was being too hasty the other day. You can infect me with your mutant
Alpha sperm any time you want."
Derek eyebrows twisted in confusion, his lips turned down at the corners.
"Didn't you say it was the worst idea ever just yesterday?"
"I'm sure I was talking about something else," Stiles said as he got to his
feet, shirt dangling from his hand. "Quite, quite sure. This is clearly the
best idea ever."
"Yesterday, you threatened to castrate me if I got you pregnant," Derek said,
edging closer to Stiles, despite anything he said to contrary.
Shucking his pants and boxers, Stiles stood naked in the middle of his room,
arms spread wide. "You know you want a piece of this."
"You also made disparaging remarks about my genetics," Derek pointed out,
cupping Stiles' hips with his hands."
"Can I appeal to your big bad Alpha nature?" Stiles asked, rubbing his hands
along Derek's chest as he slowly removed his shirt. "Don't you want to claim
me? Make everyone know I'm yours? Drown me in your scent?"
"You sound like a bad porno," Derek commented as Stiles unbuckled his belt, not
acknowledging that Stiles was just repeating what Derek had panted in his ears
just two days ago.
"I learn from the best," Stiles said, grinning up at him as he pushed Derek's
jeans to the floor. "I mean wouldn't you being my baby daddy totally say I
belong to the Alpha better than anything else?"
"I'll do whatever you want if you never call me your baby daddy ever again,"
Derek said with just the slightest tinge of exasperation in his voice. Stiles
figured the fact that Derek was thick and hard against his belly left that up
to future negotiations.
Right now, all Stiles really cared about was Derek getting with the program. He
didn't care what he thought yesterday. He didn't care what made sense
yesterday. Today was different. Today, Stiles wanted what he wanted and he
intended to get it.
                                      ***
After that, it hit him like a freight train. The need. It was more intense than
his needing to get boned by Derek phase. It was worse. So much worse. Because
this time? Derek wasn't unaffected. Stiles spent an ungodly amount of time on
his hands and knees, voice hoarse from demanding Derek just fucking knot him,
already, what the hell was he waiting for?
Derek, unlike every other time Stiles could remember in the distant past,
actually followed orders and did as he was asked.
Still, despite all that, the weird undeniable craving just got more and more
intense to the point where Stiles was actually losing sleep over it.
He glanced over his shoulder at Derek who was staring down at his ass like it
was the answer to every question he ever asked and bit out, "If you don't get
me pregnant soon, I swear to god I will take up taxidermy for the sole purpose
of learning to stuff and mount your corpse after I kill you."
Derek fucked into him with two short thrusts and said, "Yes, god yes, whatever
you want."
                                      ***
Stiles could tell when he was pregnant because, as soon as it happened, he
suddenly recalled in vivid detail what a bad idea it was. "This can only end in
tears," he said to Derek, who was too busy snoring on his chest to do much in
the way of responding.
"Tears and gun violence," Stiles continued, because if his dad responded with
anything less than his shotgun, Stiles would eat his surfboard. Stiles' dad
would find out, somehow, and then he'd kill Derek with the force of his brain
and also his gun, and then he'd make Stiles help him cover it up, because it
would sort of be Stiles' fault he was guilty of manslaughter. "And he'll
probably ask me to police his shell casings."
Derek lifted his head from Stiles' chest, looking sleepy-eyed and annoyed,
which was both adorable and frightening, and asked, "What the hell are you
talking about?"
"My dad's going to kill you and force me to cover it up!" Stiles said, wide-
eyed and panicked. "It can't possibly be good for our baby for me to be a party
to any more crime."
"Did you say baby?" Derek asked, looking more than a little shell shocked.
Stiles scowled at him. "Did you think we were trying out for the Olympics or
something?"
"I just," Derek said, brow furrowed, "it didn't seem connected to anything
real."
"Well," Stiles said, feeling unaccountably pissy. "Lucky you, mating
imperatives for werewolves exist. Woohoo."
"Are you all right?" Derek asked, cautious in a way he never was with Stiles.
His Alpha senses were probably tingling, warning him about upcoming danger.
"I honestly don't even know how to answer that question right now," Stiles
said, closing his eyes. "Who votes to pretend this isn't happening until we
have no other choice? Yay, the vote passes, two to nil. Let's go to sleep."
Derek just sighed, kissed him, and then slumped back where he had been before,
sleeping on Stiles' chest.
"Of all the failwolves, in all the world, you had to be the one to knock me
up," Stiles said, giving Derek a disgruntled look. "I can't believe I even just
said that."
"Shut up," Derek said, muffled against his skin. "Go to sleep."
"Fine." Stiles closed his eyes because he wanted to and not because Derek said
to. So there.
                                      ***
If Stiles thought things with would calm down a bit after he got knocked up, he
was mistaken. So very mistaken. His hormones were still off the wall, the Alpha
pack had done nothing—which was nice, in theory, but incredibly unnerving in
actuality—and Derek set out in all earnestness to redefine crazy.
He'd woken up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about giving birth to
a very furry alien facehugger. Derek had distracted him from babbling his
growing panic by kissing him quiet and then fucking him stupid. Which Stiles
had well and truly appreciated as a treatment for his anxiety. Derek had curled
up with him, after, and rubbed his belly and whispered how he'd keep Stiles
safe, no matter what, and since Stiles was still basking in a rather warm
afterglow, he had no idea Derek wasn't just being a dumb sap.
Which was why Scott was sitting in his room, looking slightly aggrieved, and
Stiles was mentally composing a list of sex acts Derek would have to perform in
contrition.
"I don't see why you need a babysitter," Scott said, pouting at his phone. "I
had to cancel a date with Allison for this."
"Way to make me feel like a chore, buddy," Stiles said, joking. Because it
didn't bother him at all that Scott acted like hanging out with him was some
unwanted burden. Nope. Or that Derek had even noticed something and obviously
orchestrated this so he could spend more time with his friend, who he'd barely
seen since summer started. No, it didn't bother him in the least.
"Sorry," Scott said, instantly contrite. "It's just that you've never needed a
babysitter before."
Stiles looked at him, sighing, and decided that now would be the time to tell
Scott about heats and fertile cycles and babies. So he did, and he took in
every single nuance of Scott's face while he did it, reveling in each frown,
wince, green tinge, and smirk.
When he was done, he sat back and waited expectantly for Scott's response.
"So," Scott said, slow and deliberate. He looked at Stiles' face, then drifted
down to his still-flat stomach and back up again. "This means you're going to
have like... six kids by the time you're thirty, right?"
Stiles had never wanted to punch Scott more than he did right then. "Oh my god.
Can I at least get through this pregnancy without thinking about going through
a repeat?"
Just then, Derek called.
"Hey," Stiles said, still eyeing Scott like he wanted to stab him in both eyes
with a dildo.
"Is Scott there?" Derek asked, because phone manners escaped him.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, Papa bear, don't worry."
"I'm not worried," Derek lied. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't slacking
off."
"Yeah, yeah," Stiles placated. "I'll see you later."
"Tonight," Derek said, then hung up. Stiles looked down at the phone and
thought of another thing to add to his list.
"Ugh," Scott said. "Stop that."
"What?" Stiles placed the phone back on the desk and wondered if he could get
Derek to do that thing with his tongue again.
"That face," Scott said, pointing his finger at him menacingly. "That's the
face you have when you're thinking up poetry about Derek's junk."
Stiles grinned. "It's long, hard, tasty. Going where others cannot. What, what,
in my butt."
"You are the worst."
Nodding, Stiles agreed. "I try my best."
                                      ***
Stiles figured that Scott's incessant whining over the past week or so must
have gotten to Derek, because his babysitter for the day—and he wasn't going to
even think about how degrading it sounded—was Erica, who he hadn't seen since
that night in Grandpa McCrazy's basement.
"It's incredibly ironic to me that all of the people you have lined up to
protect me have at one time or another tried to kill me. Or bashed my head with
a piece of my beautiful Jeep and tossed me in a dumpster. On your orders."
"I never told her to do that specifically," Derek hedged. "She knows better
than to try that now, anyway."
"Why are you calling me anyhow," Stiles asked, because what was the point of a
babysitter if Derek was going to spend the entire time he was elsewhere on the
phone with him.
Derek ignored the question. "I'll see you tonight. I'll bring pizza."
"How sweet," Erica said as soon as he got off the phone. "I think I remember
this bit from a Lifetime movie."
"Shut up," Stiles said, because Erica never sounded more fake than when she was
being a bitch on purpose. "Let's play Halo."
"Don't cry when I kick your ass." Erica snatched the controller from him and
sat down next to him. "I don't want to have to deal with your crazy boyfriend."
Stiles glanced over at her as the game started up. "Don't you mean your crazy
Alpha?"
"When you're involved? No. If he's not here with you, he's talking about you. I
thought he talked about you a lot before. Now, it's just constant."
"What?" Stiles asked, surprised. "He talked about me before this," Stiles waved
his hand around his midsection, "whole thing happened?"
"Yeah," Erica said, sly. "He was always talking about how important it was to
get you on our side. Or to find out what you knew."
"Wow," Stiles said, feeling warm. He snatched his phone up and sent Derek a
quick text before going back to the game.
Erica kicked his ass and he didn't even care. Derek thought he was important
before mating with him. That made him unaccountably happy. And horny.
"Oh," Erica said, looking over at the window like she heard something Stiles
couldn't. "Derek's back early. I thought he'd be another hour at least. What
the hell did you text him?"
Stiles blushed. "Nothing."
Before he had a chance to think about it, Erica dived for his phone and
snatched it up. "Oh, I see," she said, gleeful. "No wonder he came running.
I'll have to try this on Boyd."
"Shut up," Stiles said, embarrassed. "And give that back."
It was then that Derek climbed through the window. Stiles had tried breaking
him of the habit, but he eschewed the front door more often than not. "Erica,
leave."
She went, but not before giving Stiles a wink.
Any residual humiliation he felt disappeared under the heat of Derek's stare.
He stripped so quickly he popped at least three buttons on his shirt. He didn't
care in the least.
                                      ***
"I'm a leading expert in awkward," Stiles commented, looking at where Jackson
and Lydia sat primly on the sofa in his living room. "But I don't think I've
ever experienced anything more awkward than this."
"Shut up, Stilinksi," Jackson bit out, not taking his eyes off the television,
where it was playing The Notebook, Christ.
"You can always get the hell out of my house," Stiles replied, because Jackson
was a douche and all of his non-Scott related patience went to dealing with
Derek.
Lydia made a show of rolling her eyes. "Maybe you should tell your boyfriend to
get a grip. Otherwise, he'll keep ruining other people's plans by making them
babysit his precious boy toy."
"Lydia," Stiles said, frustrated. Part of him wanted to tell her to shut up,
but the part of him who'd spent the last ten years pining for her wouldn't let
him. "Just take Jackson and go. I'll handle Derek."
"I bet you will," Lydia said with a leer that somehow no longer was as
attractive as Derek's grumpy face in the morning.
Jackson was on his feet before Stiles even had time to blink, moving to take
their horrible movie choice with them. "You'd better."
Stiles walked them both to the door, relieved to see them leave. "Whatever,
dickhead. See you around, Lydia."
Fixing him with an evaluative stare, Lydia gave him a slow smile. "Yeah, next
time you'll have to come over and tell me everything."
For some reason, Lydia still being vaguely terrifying comforted him. Even
though she clearly just wanted him to go over to her place and compare notes
about their respective werewolf boyfriends.
His phone was already in his hand when it rang. "Yes, my sexy love beast?"
"Don't call me that," Derek groaned.
Stiles tapped his finger against his lip, even though Derek wasn't there to see
him. "It's either that or 'hey, boyfriend who no longer gets laid because he
sent the biggest douchebag in the world along with his girlfriend, who I used
to crush on, to my house'. Which do you prefer?"
"He's the only one who wasn't busy today?" Derek said, as if a question.
With a completely aggrieved sigh, Stiles got up and walked into the kitchen.
"I'm pretty sure I can handle being in my very own home without getting into
any sort of trouble. I'm being a good little mate, aren't I, staying indoors?
While my big, bad, Alpha goes out and does all the manly scowling and
looming... Even though I'm getting cabin fever from being stuck inside all the
time."
"I appreciate it," Derek said, so sincerely that it stirred a tiny bit of guilt
in Stiles for giving him a hard time. Sometimes, he forgot Derek wasn't a dick
anymore. At least not to him.
"I know you do." And he did know. Stiles didn't exactly like being kept at home
like a delicate flower, but Derek could only control his nature so much and
having his pregnant mate flitting about town, unprotected with an unknown and
potentially dangerous pack was pushing things. Also, the last time he tried to
go to the store alone for milk and eggs, Derek showed up looking on the verge
of popping his fangs and claws in the middle of the bread aisle.
"Does this mean you won't let my betas stay with you when I'm not there?" Derek
asked, sounding so pathetic that Stiles' resolve to make Derek sleep on the
proverbial couch faltered.
"Just at least send ones I can stand being around for more than five minutes?"
Stiles asked, giving in because Derek was a jerk who made Stiles weak to
stubble and failure.
"Chicken sound good for dinner?"
"Sure."
                                      ***
"Did you lose at Rock, Paper, Scissors to get landed this gig or what?" Stiles
asked as soon as he opened his front door to find Boyd standing on the other
side.
Boyd ignored him and walked inside. "We'll get along just fine as long as you
don't talk to me about Derek's cock. Save the shit for McCall."
Stiles laughed. "No problemo, dude. Haiku is an art not to be rushed. I don't
just come up with that shit on the fly." Except he totally did, all the time.
He was talented like that, but it would be wasted on Boyd, so he refrained from
sharing his latest masterpiece. It's a knotty one. Always ready for business. A
river of come. After a moment of indecision, Stiles pulled out his phone and
texted it to Scott, who replied a minute later with u suxxors.
"Got it out of your system?" Boyd asked, watching him with thinly veiled
amusement.
"What?"
Boyd rolled his eyes. "Whatever horrifying thing you sent Scott."
"How did you know? Do your freaky werewolf senses allow you to figure out what
I text by sound?"
"No," Boyd said. "You just get this expression on your face whenever you're
tormenting someone and enjoying it."
Stiles really needed to work on schooling his expressions better. "Wanna watch
a movie?"
"Please," Boyd said, clearly desperate for a distraction, from the conversation
or just interacting with Stiles, he wasn't sure.
The movie—Resident Evil: Afterlife—had only been playing for twenty minutes
when his cell phone started ringing. He was going to have to change Derek's
ringtone to something he wouldn't mind hearing every five minutes, apparently.
"Yes, my darling Growlith," Stiles greeted. Derek had also called ten minutes
after he'd left and then again five minutes before Boyd showed up.
"That's a Pokémon."
"Award the man a cookie," Stiles said, rolling his eyes at Boyd, who grinned at
him. "I guess Mightyena's a more wolfy Pokémon, but it doesn't have the same
ring to it."
"Stiles."
Boyd's expression was one of deep, deep amusement. Like he knew that Derek was
an overprotective caveman weirdo and his incessant need to treat Stiles as if
he were a dainty, delicate prince was better than anything found on the
television.
"Derek," he said back, with the underlying tone of 'why the hell are you
calling me this time?'
"Chinese." And then he hung up, and Stiles stared at the phone. Because in
Derek's mind, informing Stiles about whatever food he was bringing later on
would make the pestering less annoying. He wondered idly if Derek would bring
home a dead animal carcass if he thought he could get away with it. He would,
too, Stiles decided, if Derek for one moment thought Stiles would be proud and
give him belly rubs instead of freaking out and having nightmares for a month.
"You two are so much weirder than I thought you'd be," Boyd commented after a
few minutes, interrupting a rather vivid image Stiles had of Derek showing up
on his porch with a wild boar over his shoulder, wolfed out, with blood
covering his stupidly handsome, smiling face.
Stiles ripped his eyes away from the movie he wasn't watching to give him a
wide-eyed look. "What do you mean?"
Boyd just snorted, then gave Stiles a speculative glance. "If you let this go,
I'll send you a photo of Derek wearing a 'Team Jacob' shirt."
"Deal," Stiles said, and he didn't sound the slightest bit breathless or dreamy
at the prospect. It was worth it, too, because Derek was glaring at something
off to the side, his profile lit up with all the surliness he could muster. It
was glorious. "How did you manage to get him to wear it?"
"Erica snuck it into his laundry. He didn't even notice until Isaac couldn't
stop laughing every time Derek came in the room."
Stiles gave Boyd a bro fist for that. "Got any more?"
There was a terrifying smile on Boyd's face that told him he did.
"What do you want for them?"
Boyd's grin just got wider. "Nothing too bad. Don't worry so much."
Stiles wondered how Derek would feel if he told him that he wasn't the scariest
werewolf he knew.
                                      ***
"Look at him. Look at me. That boy is bad...and honestly, he's a wolf in
disguise, but I can't stop staring in those evil eyes..." Stiles glared at his
phone before answering it. "What do you want? And you better not just be
calling to check up on me."
The silence that followed said everything. "Chocolate."
"What about it?"
"Do you want some?"
Stiles deserved an award for not throwing his phone. "Sure. All the chocolate."
Then he hung up on Derek before he could make up any other stupid questions.
"Does Derek know that's his ringtone?" Isaac asked, lips curled into a grin.
Stiles shrugged. "Derek made me promise not to use anything by Duran Duran or
Shakira. This was fair game."
Snorting, Isaac shook his head. "Probably because he never paid attention to
Lady Gaga lyrics."
"His loss," Stiles said, tossing the phone back on the desk.
"So," Isaac said, giving Stiles a look that was a mixture of hopeful and
curious. "I was wondering..."
"About?" Stiles asked, not exactly sure which of the three likely awkward
conversations he was going to find himself in, but completely sure he'd rather
hit his head against the wall than have it.
Isaac toyed with one drumsticks he'd found while poking around Stiles' room.
"Derek."
"What about Derek?" Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that the conversation
would either be about sex or emotions and Stiles didn't know which he wanted to
talk about less.
"Is it weird?" Isaac asked, tapping the drumstick against his thigh with less
rhythm than a Justin Bieber song. "You guys were barely talking and now you're
going to be together for the rest of your lives. How is that even going to
work?"
"Let me ask you a question," Stiles said, because this was scarily close to a
few conversations Stiles had with his dad. "What are you going to be doing for
your Masters thesis in college?"
"I don't even know if I will be in college." Isaac looked utterly perplexed.
Stiles nodded. "Exactly. I don't need to figure out how me and Derek are going
to manage forever. I just need to worry about this month, this week, today. And
I have a plan for that anyway."
"What?" Isaac perked up, interested, and Stiles thought he looked entirely too
much like a puppy. Sort of like Scott, which he didn't want to dwell on
overmuch.
Smiling, Stiles tilted his head toward his bed. "Sex. I plan to solve all our
problems with sex."
"You need more than sex to make a relationship work." Isaac didn't seem overly
impressed with his awesome plan. "What if you guys get in a fight? What if he
finds someone else? Cheats on you? What then?"
"That's the beauty of the 'solve all problems with sex' plan. Sex is better
than fighting and Derek's a helluva lot more agreeable post-coital. And if I
keep demanding sex multiple times a day, Derek won't be able to get it up for
some hypothetical random hook up."
"Do you," Isaac paused for a moment before he continued, "care for him?"
"He's not the worst person in the world to end up mystically bound to," Stiles
answered, not looking at Isaac in the eyes.
"Um. Want to play a game or something?" Isaac asked, vaguely apologetic.
Stiles grinned at him. "Do I want to play Call of Duty instead of talking about
feelings or my emotionally stunted werehusband? Do I ever."
Smiling back, Isaac grabbed a controller. "You're going down."
After Scott, Stiles decided Isaac could be his favorite.
                                      ***
"Can we talk?" Scott asked, crawling in through the window twenty minutes after
Derek had left to go off and do whatever. Whatever werewolves had against
perfectly serviceable front doors was beyond him
Stiles looked up from the book he was reading and shrugged. "Sure, bro, come on
in."
"We've barely talked this summer," Scott began, looking upset. "And I know I
haven't been the greatest friend to you lately, but we're still best friends,
aren't we?"
"Of course," Stiles said, moving to sit on the edge of his mattress. "Why would
you think we weren't?"
"Stiles," Scott said, cross, and whatever he was about to say clearly had been
building for a while, so Stiles decided to just let him talk instead of
deflecting the topic. "You basically got married, to Derek Hale of all people.
Someone you had asked me to let die on more than one occasion. You got werewolf
married to him and you didn't let me know you were considering it. Hell, you
didn't even talk to me about your...changes...until after you were already
pregnant. With Derek Hale's baby."
There wasn't really anything he could say to that, so he just sat there looking
at Scott, helpless.
"And anytime I tried to talk to you about it, you start talking about Derek's
dick or something so I'll stop bothering you. I just don't understand. You
talked to me about Lydia almost every day for years. But with this? Something
this big? You kept it a secret until you had no choice but tell me."
"I guess the only one in this friendship allowed to keep secrets is you,"
Stiles said, arms crossed. "Well, maybe I didn't talk to you about it because I
figured you were too busy with Allison—who you said you were going to take a
break from, only to change your mind two days later—or making plans with
Deaton. Maybe, I didn't talk to you about it because you haven't been around to
talk to."
"I couldn't tell you!" Scott said, getting to his feet. "Deaton said no one
else could know!"
"I'm not just anybody else, Scott. I'm your best friend. You didn't tell me
about a lot of things! So, don't go acting all wounded because I didn't confide
in you about something that has absolutely nothing to do with you!"
"It has everything to do with me," Scott yelled. "Derek's the one who's been
keeping things from us since the beginning. Now, because you're all buddy buddy
with him, I have to get along with him and do what he wants."
"It has nothing to do with you." Stiles felt more furious than he had in
months, like every little thing he'd ever been pissed about and let go came
back with a vengeance. "It has to do with me and my dad and Derek. Not
everything is about you. Big whoop you have to play nice with Derek? Who cares
if everyone we care about stays safe?"
"Don't you trust me to keep you safe?"
Stiles stood up, looked Scott right in the eye and yelled, "No! I don't!"
The hurt expression on Scott's face churned the guilt inside Stiles' gut. "But
you'll trust Derek? Are you too busy getting fucked to remember how little you
used to trust him?"
It felt like Scott just punched him in the chest, so he gave him a stony-eyed
glare. "I think, if you'll recall, most of the time I've actually been in
danger was because you, not me, were too busy thinking with your dick."
"It's completely different," Scott yelled. "I love Allison and you know it."
"I guess since you love Allison, it's okay that you've almost got me killed on
more than one occasion."
Scott deflated. "It's not. That's not what I meant."
"And maybe I don't feel about Derek the way you feel about Allison," Stiles
continued, leaving the yet unspoken, "but I did become his mate. Which means I
signed up for a lifetime of him and however many children I end up carrying.
Derek may have been a dick and someone I didn't trust for a long time, but he's
my family now, so you're going to have to just deal with that."
"I don't like him," Scott said, petulant.
Stiles snorted. "You don't have to like him and by the way? I'm not too fond of
Allison at the moment, either, but I never said anything about you still
following her around like a puppy."
"What do you have against Allison?"
Raising an eyebrow, Stiles asked, "Are you serious? She went psycho killer on
just about everyone!"
"Her mom just died."
"And I know better than anyone what's that's like. Derek bit her trying to save
your ass, if you recall. And she reacted by trying to kill any werewolf she
saw, regardless if they did anything wrong. She would have killed you."
"I know," Scott huffed. "I just… I love her and I…"
"And I get that," Stiles said, patient even though he didn't want to be. "But
no one else loves her like you do, so we've got every right to just be pissed."
"I know."
"Look, Scott," Stiles said, walking over to him. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to
you about what was going on with me. I just… It was just… incredibly personal.
I wanted to make the decision based on what I thought was best for me and
you're not exactly unbiased when it comes to Derek. You would have disagreed on
principle alone, without even considering all the facts."
"True," Scott agreed, with a half-grin. "Are you… happy? I mean really?"
"Enough," Stiles said, because he still wasn't ready to talk about everything
he felt about Derek to anyone else, not even Scott. Or Derek for that matter.
"And are you okay with being pregnant?" Scott asked, looking down at his as yet
still flat belly. "I mean...I'm sure Deaton could have helped you if you didn't
want to be."
Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, which was longer than it had been in
years. "It's really strange, yeah. But I'm fine with it. Mostly. Well, at least
until I think about being a father and raising a kid and the fact that I'm
going to have more heats someday. Heats. Plural. Not singular."
"Yeah, that'd freak anyone out." Scott's hand shot out, but stopped an inch
over his belly.
"You do realize this kid is about the size of a kidney bean right now," Stiles
said, amused at Scott's almost eager expression.
Scott looked up at him and gave him a wide, goofy grin. "I'm going to be an
uncle. I could live with that."
"Yeah," Stiles agreed, opening his arms for a hug, which Scott quickly obliged.
"Best uncle ever."
"Are we cool now?" Scott asked as soon as he stepped back. "I'm sorry
for…everything."
"Me too," Stiles said, even though he wasn't sorry for much. He did, however,
want to stop fighting. Scott was his best friend and there wasn't much he
wouldn't forgive him for. He'd just have to keep sending him dirty, TMI haikus,
because if there was something Stiles was good at, it was being passive
aggressive. "And, yeah, we're cool."
                                      ***
"What the hell was I thinking?" Stiles asked the inside of the toilet bowl. "I
cannot believe there was a force on earth that made me think that this was a
good idea. I blame you. I blame you for every second of misery I'm suffering."
Derek wisely said nothing and continued to rub his back.
"My dad's going to notice. He's going to notice before I've figured out how in
the hell to even tell him about this. How the hell am I going to tell him about
this? By the way, werewolves. By the way, hunters. By the way, Alpha pack. By
the way, pregnant. Congrats, Grampa? He's actually going to lose it and kill
me, I know it."
"It'll be fine," Derek said, getting a cup of water from the sink.
Stiles scowled at him and snatched the cup, swallowing half, swishing it in his
mouth, and spitting it into the toilet. "Easy for you to say."
"He could arrest me," Derek pointed out. "Again."
"True."
"And this time for something I actually did."
Stiles pouted. "Blame Scott for those other times. I would have never said
anything so stupid by myself."
"Agreed," Derek said. "He is an idiot."
"You're only saying that because it's true and I'm too sick to defend him
regardless."
Derek laughed. "Yep."
"Oh, god, help me up and then put me out of my misery and get me some sort of
chocolate. Not necessarily in that order."
Derek got him to his feet, handed him a glass of water, and reached around him
to flush the toilet for him. "You okay?"
"Miserable, but fine," Stiles said after he spat out a mouthful of water. He
opened the bathroom cabinet and took a swig of mouthwash, spitting that out,
too. "Morning sickness is a bitch and also a dirty, dirty lie."
"My mother had it for eight months with my younger brother and sister."
Stiles thought about his mother, sick and smiling because they thought it was
another baby at first, not cancer, ignored the way his face and chest itched
with the memory of it.
"Hey," Derek said, concern lacing his tone. "Why don't we watch that movie you
wanted to see?"
"You said you'd rather be garroted with a wolfsbane laced wire before you sat
down and watched Nude Nuns With Big Guns, just yesterday."
"I hear it got great reviews," Derek deadpanned. "C'mon. Show me this cinematic
masterpiece before I change my mind."
"You're only offering this because you're too embarrassed to say the words
cuddle or snuggle. Which is exactly what you're actually offering to do with
me."
"I'll make popcorn," Derek said, ignoring him. "If you think you can bear the
smell."
"Just get me some carrot sticks and celery," Stiles said, graciously letting
Derek off the hook. "I will literally shoot the next werewolf that makes
microwave popcorn in my house."
Derek gave him a grim nod, no doubt noticing how his heart didn't even skip a
beat. "I believe you. Celery and carrot sticks it is."
Stiles smiled and made a nest for him and Derek on his bed so they could
snuggle and cuddle (and he wasn't ashamed to admit it, either) and shouted
after him. "Best Alpha werehusband ever."
"Don't call me that," Derek yelled right back.
                                      ***
"Hey," Stiles said, placing a glass in front of where his dad was looking over
some case files at the table. "I need to talk to you. About something
important. Want a drink?"
"What did you do?" Dad asked, resigned, and nodded for Stiles to pour. "More
than that. I'm sure I'll need it."
Stiles obeyed. "What makes you think I did anything?"
"You're pouring me a drink," Dad pointed out, fairly. He took a sip and
grimaced. "What the hell is this crap? It tastes like shoe polish!"
"Um non-alcoholic whiskey?" Stiles replied hesitantly. Perhaps, he should have
made Derek buy a bottle of the good stuff.
"What in god's name did I ever do to deserve that?" Dad asked, face still
twisted in distaste.
Stiles went and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet and came back. "Nothing.
You're the best dad. Ever. And I'm your son. Whom you love."
"Oh, god, just tell me you a) aren't going to get arrested and b) didn't get
anyone pregnant." He held out his hand for the bottle. Stiles kept it out of
reach.
"Um. No. Neither of those things. Specifically."
Dad frowned and made a grabby hand at the bottle. Stiles pulled it closer to
him. "Now, why do I not find that reassuring in the least?"
Stiles pulled out the chair across from his dad and sat down. He could do this.
He totally could. Alternately, he could make "Papa Don't Preach" his dad's
ringback tone. Or he could wait until he was six or seven months along and let
his dad suss it out on his own. "Hey, have you no faith in your son?"
"Stiles," Dad said, weariness evident in his tone. "I just want you to talk to
me."
On the other hand, if he let his father find out on his own, his dad probably
would never speak to him again.
"Okay," Stiles said, thumbing at the loose edge of the label on the bottle of
whiskey. "What I'm gonna tell you will sound... ridiculous. Impossible. But, I
can prove it. Dr. Deaton will back me up."
"The vet?" Dad asked. "You know, somehow I don't find it surprising that he's
involved in something."
"So," Stiles said, placing his hands flat on the table.
"ScottandDerekarewerewolvesaswellasabunchofotherpeopleandmeandDerekarematesandImpregnantwithhishellspawn."
For a minute, there was nothing but silence. His dad blinked once, twice, and
then reached across the table and snatched the bottle Stiles had forgotten to
guard. He took one swallow, not even bothering with a glass, then placed the
bottle back down on the table between them. "Now, say that again."
"Scott and Derek are werewolves," Stiles said, trying to remember the exact
wording of his previous jumble. "As well as a bunch of other people."
Dad closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, and nodded at him.
"And the rest."
"Me and Derek are mates and..." Stiles swallowed thickly and dropped his eyes
back down to the table, and whispered. "I'm pregnant."
"You're telling the truth," Dad said, eyes wide. "Or at least you're not lying.
I think. Actually, no. I don't know what to think. You just told me you were
pregnant and there are werewolves and every single instinct I have tells me
you're not lying."
"Well," Stiles said, trying to dredge up a smile. "I hated lying to you.
Before. It just wasn't my secret to tell. Derek said it was okay, now, to tell
you."
"Because you're pregnant," Dad repeated, as if the words didn't quite fit right
in his mouth. "By him. He got you pregnant. Derek Hale. A person I've had in
the back of my squad car more than once. Both times because of tips from you
and Scott. Not to mention, he's twenty-two and you most assuredly are not."
"About that," Stiles said, tapping his foot against chair leg. "I apologized?
He forgave me? We hugged it out?"
"Apparently, you did more than hug it out." His dad uncapped the bottle, took a
deep breath, then capped it again. "Twenty-two, Stiles."
"He's very immature for his age."
"That does not make me feel any better."
Stiles sagged. "Don't hate me, dad. Please."
Dad got to his feet and walked around the table to stand in front of him. He
sighed, reached down and pulled Stiles to his feet. "I never could," Dad said,
giving him a hug. "We'll figure it out."
"Yeah?" Stiles said, face hot as he pressed it against his dad's shoulder.
"Promise?"
His dad rubbed his hand against his back. "Yeah. I promise."
"Don't kill Derek, either," Stiles muffled the words against his dad. "I kind
of like him a little."
His dad sighed, took a step back, and gripped both of Stiles' arms. "Did it
have to be him?"
Stiles shrugged, nodding his head. "Yeah, it did."
"I'm going to drive over to Dr. Deaton's for a talk," Dad said with a grimace.
"You will stay here, in your room."
"Okay, dad," Stiles agreed, meaning it, because things were good between them,
not great, but better than they were and he wasn't going to screw it up for
anything less than the life or death emergency. He immediately cursed himself
for even letting his thoughts wander in that direction, because that was a jinx
if there ever was.
"I'll be back soon." His dad gave him a kiss on his forehead like he used to
when Stiles was younger. He then walked to the door, and said over his shoulder
as he walked out the door, "Now that you've told me, does this mean you'll stop
playing Criminal nonstop?"
Stiles resolutely did not blush and he did not run up to hide in his room away
from his musically judgmental father.
When Derek's ringtone sounded forty minutes later, Stiles dropped the book he
was reading, and hid it under the bed as if Derek would be able to scent him
reading What To Expect When You're Expecting over the phone. "Yes, my dearest
Wasabi Pea?"
"Your dad's outside," Derek said, sounding as worried as Stiles had ever heard
him. He didn't even complain about the pet name, which said a lot about Derek's
state of mind. "I think he just checked his clip."
Stiles didn't know why it surprised him that his dad was paying Derek a visit,
but it did. "I bet a scary, badass Alpha like you can handle a little Q&A with
your father-in-law."
"Get over here and help me," Derek said, sounding a little desperate.
He tried to suppress a grin and failed. "Hey, if you weren't such a
scaredywolf, you could have been with me when I told Dad."
"Stiles," Derek whined. He'd deny that he was whining, but it didn't make it
any less true.
Stiles licked his lips. "Just try not to get yourself killed. If anything, this
pregnancy has only increased the good ol' libido."
Derek huffed, but Stiles could tell he wasn't actually mad. "I'll see you
tomorrow."
                                      ***
Derek had shown up the following night after the talk with his dad with a bag
on his shoulder. "Your dad and I think it'll be safer if I'm with you until we
can figure out what the Alpha pack is up to."
"Wow," Stiles said, because his dad had come home last night, given him a look
when he peeked his head into Stiles' room, and said, Really, son, Derek Hale?
Well, I suppose it could have been worse. Like that Whittemore kid, and then
left to go to bed. "I would have loved to see the snow job you pulled on him to
get him to agree to this."
Derek smirked, completely unapologetic, and said, "I just told him the truth.
He said he was grateful to have me looking out for you."
At that, Stiles suppressed a snort because if Derek wanted to believe Stiles'
dad thought good of him instead of keeping him close so he couldn't shirk his
duties to their unborn hellspawn, he wasn't going to disabuse him. "That's
nice."
"I thought so." And Derek had sounded so pleased and happy that Stiles had to
tug off his clothes, push him down on the bed, and give him a sloppy, but
enthusiastic blow job.
Later that night, when Derek was doing his usual almighty sprawl on top of him,
Stiles said, "I think I'm more worried about what's going to happen after this
baby's born than I am about the Alpha pack."
"Why?" Derek asked, voice rough. He didn't shift, though, or make any attempt
to look at Stiles, so it made it easier to talk.
Stiles tugged a little at Derek's hair. "Well, I'm due in March. I'll still
have three months left of my junior year to accomplish and all of my senior
year with a kid. And Deaton wasn't too specific about when I'll have another
heat."
"My mother had years between hers," Derek offered. "I doubt you'll go into
another one too soon after our baby's born."
"That's a relief, at least," Stiles said, still trying to figure out how he
went from never even imagining himself giving birth to accepting the fact that
he was doomed to carrying a brood in the course of two months. Well, if the
other option was mind-numbing anxiety and panic attacks, the easy acceptance
made sense. Especially if easy acceptance was more likely a really, really good
defense mechanism. "What about the other stuff?"
"I assumed I'd be taking care of our child," Derek said, hesitant, as if he
didn't want it confirmed that Stiles didn't trust him with their kids.
Stiles kissed the top of his head. "That is such a relief, lemme tell you. The
idea of trying to find a babysitter we'd both trust was a logistical
nightmare."
"Good," Derek said, relief evident. "You don't have to worry, Stiles. No matter
what happens, we'll figure something out that we both can live with."
He gave Derek another kiss on the head, and when Derek turned his face up so
Stiles could see him, he gave him another on his lips. "I have another
question."
"Of course you do," Derek said, small smile playing about his lips.
Stiles curled his fingers around the nape of Derek's neck and kissed him again.
"Do you think I'm having a werebaby?"
"There's a good chance," Derek said, turning enough so Stiles could feel the
erection pressing into his thigh. "Though, I am surprised you haven't asked me
this before now."
"Me too," Stiles said, spreading his thighs to make more room for Derek, who
moved so he was knelt between them. "I think my head was too filled with
everything else to even think about it. Or at least something was too busy
being filled for me to think about much of anything."
"I think something's wrong with me," Derek remarked as he slowly pushed his
cock inside of Stiles. "Because your horrible jokes are starting to turn me on
lately."
"Good," Stiles said, words almost catching in his throat. He allowed Derek to
tug his legs over Derek's splayed thighs, and slowly thrust into him, quiet and
deep. "Because I'm not going to stop making them."
"Don't want you to change," Derek panted out, dragging the head of his cock
against Stiles' prostate. "Want you to be my idiot."
The second Derek's knot started to swell, Stiles came quietly, untouched, all
over his belly. He reached up and tugged Derek down by the neck and kissed him,
not caring about the awkward position. Derek moaned against his lips, and
Stiles just stared at him for a minute before he replied, "Always."
                                      ***
Two days before school was set to start up again, Stiles received a call from
Deaton asking him to come down to his office for a visit and a check up. The
last time he'd heard from him was when he recommend Stiles start taking daily
vitamin and Derek ran out to the store and bought him five bottles of
Flintstones Chewables. He sincerely hoped any and all medical aspects didn't
involve stirrups or a speculum.
"What's up, doc?" Stiles asked as he and Derek walked in to where Deaton was
reading a file in a manila folder.
Deaton looked unamused. "I've never heard that one before, Mr. Stilinksi."
"It's my goal to expand and enrich all the lives around me," Stiles said, arms
spread.
"Well, I wanted to discuss with you the upcoming school year. I'm sure you were
concerned about what you'd do when your pregnancy becomes too obvious to hide."
"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding. He'd talked to his dad, who said they'd figure
out something, but Stiles was fairly tired of that expression at the moment and
was looking forward to something other than a vague non-plan. "Whaddya got for
me?"
"Firstly, you might not have to worry as soon as you'd expect. Some people
don't show until they're quite far along. Considering I've rarely seen you
dressed in anything but layers and baggy shirts, you'll probably be able to
hide it quite far along. When it does get to the point where loose close no
longer will hide it, I'll provide you with a note your father can give the
excuse your attendance on medical grounds."
"That'll be great until someone wonders why my medical note came from the local
vet."
Deaton smirked at that. "I doubt anyone will be looking that closely. In any
case, I'll make sure that's not an issue. Also, when you do Ms. Morrell will
come to your house to tutor you, to make sure you don't fall behind."
"Our guidance counselor and French teacher?" Stiles asked, suddenly wary.
With a nod, Deaton continued, "Yes. You'll find she's very aware of the less
than common aspects of the world."
He'd talked to her a few times over the last eight months, talked around a lot
of the weird shit that went on, and before he could go through every one of
their sessions in his mind, Deaton actually looked faintly apologetic. "You can
trust her. I promise."
Stiles very much wanted to say how little that meant to him because of just how
much he didn't really trust Deaton, but he wisely refrained because of the
history Deaton had with Derek's family. "Good," he managed, and Derek decided
then was a good time to slide his arm around Stiles' waist.
"Anything else?" Derek asked, giving him a gentle squeeze.
Deaton nodded. "There's one more thing. Starting next month, you'll need to
start coming in for regular appointments to monitor your pregnancy. Scott tells
me his mother is now aware of his situation. If it would make you feel better,
we can arrange for her to sit in on these appointments to make sure you get the
best care, under the circumstances."
"Yeah," Stiles choked out, not quite sure he felt comfortable getting
obstetrics care from Scott's mom, but he didn't want his only care coming from
Deaton either. "I did have a question. After this," Stiles waved his hand
around his midsection," is all over...I mean. You said last time something
about fertile years and heats and stuff. When...when can I expect a repeat of
this glorious event? Because, honestly? I'd rather not have three pregnancies
under my belt before I even start college, if you get my drift."
"Don't worry," Deaton said, placid. "Heats are usually over a year apart, more
so if one chooses to breastfeed."
Stiles just stared at Deaton for a moment, because that was real helpful.
Christ, the man was a dick sometimes. "Yeah, thanks."
"Anytime," Deaton said, and then waved his hand towards the door. "Call me
later to set up an appointment. I'll arrange things with Ms. McCall."
Derek just gave a short nod in thanks as Stiles grabbed his hand and tugged him
toward the door. "Will do, doc."
Stiles gave Derek a pleading glance as soon as they were back to the Camaro.
"If I beg, will you take me out for ice cream?"
"How about I take you out for ice cream," Derek said, giving him what passed
for a leer in Derek's world. "And after we get back home, you can beg me all
you want?"
"Sold."
                                      ***
For the first time in Stiles' entire life, he was grateful to be going back to
school. If he had to spend another minute in his bedroom, which now always
smelled faintly of sex, he was going to go bugfuck crazy. School practically
seemed like a respite by the time he drove his Jeep into the parking lot.
One benefit of letting his dad in on the furry secret he'd been carrying was
that they were able to get everything straightened out legally with Derek and
his packletts. The downside was most of said pack appeared to be waiting for
him outside of the school. Which Stiles thought was probably unnecessary since
he had a feeling Derek would be out creeping around the perimeter of the school
until he got a grip.
"Just promise not to...like...offer to carry my bag or hold out my chair or act
like anything's different," Stiles said, "because I think we're going to have
company this year and the last thing we need to do is give away the whole game
because none of you know the meaning of subtle."
"We've bonded over the summer, right?" Erica asked, tossing her arm carelessly
around his shoulder. "That means we're going to spend lots of time hanging
out."
Stiles squirmed out of her grip and walked closer to Scott, who was blatantly
eyeing his belly like it was going to start doing the Harlem Shake at any
moment. "You all can cross 'acting', 'spy', and 'undercover cop' off the list
of things you'll do when you grow up."
He ducked into the bathroom only to find Derek sneaking around like a creeper
all those after school PSAs warn people about.
"Hey," Derek said, tense, and he tugged Stiles close and gave him a hug and a
kiss. "I think at least two of the alphas are here at the school. Be careful
and call me if anything suspicious happens."
"Should I be worried?" Stiles asked, even though he didn't think anyone would
actually try something during school hours. Derek took a deep breath and shook
his head.
"I think they're just watching right now," Derek said, and he sounded mostly
sure of himself. Stiles figured that was two parts Stiles being pregnant and
one part healthy suspicion.
"I'll be fine, Grumpy bear," Stiles said, "and if anything happens, all your
little minions will be here to protect me. Because they're all teenagers who
still go to this high school."
"Don't call me that," Derek said, wrinkling his nose. "And stop reminding me."
Then he gave Stiles another kiss and sent him off to class.
When he sat down in class, Scott looked over at him with disgruntled
expression. "Is he going to haunt the boy's bathroom for the rest of the year?"
Stiles ignored him and focused on being distracted during the pointless back to
school lecture. He wondered, briefly, if they'd be able to smell or hear that
he was pregnant, but decided that it was unlikely, at least for now, due to the
massive sensory input they'd be getting. Scott continued to send him looks and
Stiles continued to pretend he was paying attention to the teacher.
Either Derek or one of his betas must have spoken to Scott during one of their
separate classes, because by the time they all sat down to eat lunch, Scott was
acting like normal. They all were. Everything was absolutely fine except for
the hideous, mouthwatering-in a bad way-smell that enveloped the room.
He barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving and a heavy hand was
rubbing his back. "Dude," he said as soon as he finished gagging. "You're gonna
get arrested or something."
"Your dad will let me go," Derek said, sounding quite certain. Stiles left him
to his delusions because the back rubs felt nice when he was sick.
When the nausea receded enough for him to be fully upright, Stiles leaned
against Derek for one selfish moment before he turned to the sink to rinse his
mouth out. "As much as I love you hovering here," Stiles said, not nearly as
sarcastic as he wanted to be, "you really can't be making it a regular thing."
"Stiles," Derek replied, a touch helpless. "I could hear your heart rate jump."
"And where were you listening to this from?" Stiles asked, eyebrow raised.
"From your car out in the parking lot?"
Derek's silence was as good as a 'yes'.
"Look," Stiles said, walking right into Derek's personal space, unsurprised to
find himself in a loose embrace moments later. "Our best bet is to play it
cool. They'll only know something's up with me if everyone goes around acting
like it. I'll be fine. Your wereidiots will see to it when you can't."
Derek kisses the corner of his lips, which was a good thing because he bet his
mouth would still taste kind of gross. "All right. I'll see you after you get
home."
"Thanks," Stiles said, because he appreciated not having to deal with Derek
when he was being bull-headed so much that he couldn't adequately describe it.
                                      ***
"Stiles," Peter greeted, somehow managing to sound creepy with his name alone.
"It's so good to see you again. And in such interesting state. You're
positively glowing, if you don't mind me saying."
"Ugh," Stiles said, and tried to subtly shift to where Derek was going through
his mail. He was starting to seriously regret begging Derek to get him out of
the house. Even moreso that he said he didn't even care if he had to be around
Derek's uncle to do it. Because Stiles clearly hadn't been thinking that one
through. "I mean. Um. Yeah. You too."
Obviously hearing the lie, Peter smirked. "You'll have to invite me when you
two decide to renew your vows. I'd hate to miss another important event in my
nephew's life."
Stiles blinked, trying to figure out if Peter was actually suggesting to
witness him and Derek doing...things. He hated Peter so much. So very much.
"Um. No?"
"Peter, get lost," Derek said, not looking up from the paper he was reading.
"Stiles, you can sit with me." He reached over to Stiles and tugged him to sit
down on his lap. Normally, Stiles would have balked at any sort of lap sitting
that didn't involve nudity and orgasms, but he was willing to make an
exception.
"Eloise is a beloved family name," Peter said as he grabbed his coat. "As is
Edgar."
As soon as the door closed, Stiles looked at Derek, and said, "If you ever add
him to my cadre of babysitters, I will get a circle of mountain ash tattooed
around my dick and ass."
"It never even crossed my mind," Derek lied, and set down the papers he was
looking at.
Stiles gave him a skeptical look, but refrained from making him admit it. "And
we're are so not going with family names."
"Agamemnon, right?" Derek asked, because he was an asshole.
"Hilarious," Stiles replied, "and yet proving my point. We're going to name
Spawn the first Liara or Garrus."
"I don't know what games those names are referencing," Derek said, pulling
Stiles flush against him, "but the answer is also no."
"We'll figure it out before spawn's born," Stiles said with an assurance he
really didn't feel.
Derek gave him a dark look. "I've seen claws and fangs come out over baby-
naming battles."
"Which you won't be doing to me."
There was a too long moment of silence before Derek said, "We'll find something
we both won't hate."
"Sure," Stiles said, and then took in the too small space for the first time
since he'd got there. "I'm...thinking you'll probably have to find a new place
to live before Spawn arrives."
"Yeah," Derek agreed, which was nice. Stiles rewarded this sort of acquiescent
behavior with kisses.
When he pulled back, he asked, "Is that going to be a problem? I've never seen
you...um...work? I have no idea where you even get your money from."
"Royalties," Derek answered thoughtlessly, still staring at Stiles' lips.
Stiles perked up. "Royalties?"
"No," Derek said, finally looking worriedly up at Stiles' gleeful expression.
"I said insurance."
"Nuh uh." Stiles shook his finger at Derek. "I heard you say royalties. Were
you in porn? Please let the answer be yes. Tell me you were in porn. Then tell
me the name of the title so I can buy it or illegally download it immediately."
"You..." Derek looked utterly perplexed. "You want to watch me have sex with
other people?"
"Oh oh," Stiles said, bouncing, "was it pegging? That'd be hot. Some hot chick
going at you with one of those ginormous dildos. Or! Bear porn. And the other
dude's the bear. Because you're surprisingly un-hairy for a werewolf."
"If you want to see what I look like bottoming, we could just do that again,"
Derek said, eyebrow raised. And that wasn't the only thing raised, because
Stiles could feel something poking his thigh.
Stiles shook his head. "No, no. I prefer you topping. You know that." And then
Stiles watched in fascination as Derek visibly preened, the smugness radiating
off him as he was the master of topping, like it was some sort of enviable
skill only few could master instead of it just being that Stiles was sort of
lazy and ridiculously sensitive and had an easily triggered prostate. All Derek
actually did was stick his dick in and thrust a bunch; it wasn't neurosurgery.
"I'd love a demonstration of your skills," Stiles said, because Derek was a
ridiculous person who responded well to shameless flattery of his ability in
the bedroom. "If you tell me what you get royalties from if not for porn." He
was terribly disappointed Derek's secret job wasn't porn.
"I wrote," Derek mumbled. "Nothing spectacular. Just enough to get a check
every once in a while. I have money from the insurance, too."
"You wrote books?" Stiles asked, stunned.
Derek scowled. "Yes, books. What did you think I wrote? A technical manual?"
"Hey, those take skills," Stiles countered. "So what sort of books did you
write?" Whatever it was, had to be good otherwise he wouldn't be so hesitant to
admit it.
"Just, um," Derek pointed over to the bookshelf. "A few of those."
Stiles got up and walked over to shelf and picked up a very thin, paperback
book with an approximation of a werewolf on the cover and a scantily clad lady
person. He looked at the title and then down at the author's name and couldn't
stop the laughter bubbling from his chest. "Dee Dee Moonsong," Stiles choked
out, waving the book helplessly. "Howling For Your Love?"
Eagerly, he grabbed the next book. This time, it was a dangerous looking woman
with claws and red eyes. "Succubi: The Light of the Moon?" The next has a shady
looking pair of vampire twins. "Double Your Blood Lust?"
Derek buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Laura," he said, voice
muffled, "laughed so hard when she found out. I had written the first one in a
creative writing class as a joke. The professor loved it, next thing I knew, I
had penned four more. Laura thought the name the publisher came up for me was
the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard. She called me Dee Dee whenever she
could in public for a year."
Stiles put the books back on the shelf, making a note to look up the rest
online later and download them to his kindle, and walked over to Derek and
crawled back onto his lap. He ran his fingers through the hair around Derek's
ear and kissed his forehead. "I won't ever call you that, if you don't want me
to."
"Thanks," Derek said, and there was a sad smile on his face. "There are so many
other things I'd rather tell you not to call me."
Stiles kissed Derek firmly on the lips. "Sure thing, my darling cavewolf."
"Don't call me that," Derek said, then smiled as he kissed Stiles back.
                                      ***
Stiles managed to get to midway through his pregnancy with nothing much
happening except for two appointments with Deaton. One for the heartbeat, which
all the asshole werewolves could hear before Stiles, and another for the
ultrasound—which Stiles would swear til he died was a version of water torture
for pregnant people—that left everyone a little awed. Derek had choked up and
his dad had tears in the corner of his eyes. Stiles had simply stared until
Deaton kicked them out of the office with a couple of black and white grainy
pictures.
There were also a handful (or more) times when Stiles frantically texted Derek
for an emergency quickie in the locker room during lunch, which he always
obliged and some ridiculous late night craving he'd had and Derek dutifully
went out and purchased.
That was why Stiles was standing next to Derek, who was stock still and near
growling, when the Alpha pack—which he'd sorta kinda forgotten all
about—interrupted their afternoon walk by looming ominously in a loose group in
front of them.
"Alpha Hale," the lead dude said, and Stiles wondered why anyone thought a
pompadour was a good look. It wasn't. On anyone. "You must know why we're
here."
"Yes," Derek said, short and clipped. Stiles actually would bet all the
raspberry pop tarts he'd hidden under his bed that Derek was just posturing for
the sake of it.
The lead dude took a few steps towards them and then just stopped dead in his
tracks, eyes trained entirely on the slight baby bulge Stiles had recently
developed. "Your mate is...carrying young."
Derek responded by shifting into his beta-form and stepping in front of him.
"Stay right where you are."
"This changes things," he said, looking like someone gave him a ticket to see
the Dallas Cowboys or something else completely tragic. "Alpha Hale, please
accept our congratulations."
"What?" Stiles asked, elbowing Derek out of his way. "You were all grrr all
these months and being all whatever and now, you're just leaving?"
"It is in our code never to level judgment against a pack while they're
expecting." And with that, they all turned in unison and flounced off into the
forest.
"What?" Stiles asked again because he seriously could not fathom what just
happened. "Oh my god, my life has become a scene out of a Predator movie. And
not even one of the good ones. It was just like that bit from Predator 2.
Except without the preceding massacre. But there could have been one, that's
the point."
"Stiles," Derek said, slow and cautious. "It's okay." And then Stiles was in
Derek's arms feeling shaky and out of sorts and incredibly vulnerable,
considering nothing actually happened. "Hey, it's fine. They're gone. They're
leaving."
"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, mouth barely moving against Derek's chest. "This
isn't just a psych-out?"
Derek rubbed his back. "No. They were telling the truth. I'm sure of it."
"Good," Stiles said, not letting go yet. "That's good."
                                      ***
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/reddwarfer/5181552/176854/176854_original.jpg]
                                      ***
Despite repeated demands from Derek, lots of whining from various other
werewolves, a few pained pleas from his dad, and a few pointed judge-y stares
from Deaton, Stiles insisted on continuing to go to school well into his second
trimester.
Yet for all the deliberate attempts to get him to finally stay home, Stiles was
blindsided by the least likely source: Danny.
The first time, he had no idea what even prompted Danny to pull him aside. He
just looked at Stiles with that cute, sheepish grin he got and said, "Well,
sometimes you just have to remember to ask him to shave first."
Stiles, bewildered, had nodded in total and complete agreement. "Yeah, sure.
Make sure he shaves. Got it."
The second time, two days later, Danny had just given him a sympathetic look
and said, "Yeah, some guys can be touchy about their facial hair," to which
Stiles nodded mechanically, "you can always use this." And Danny handed him a
tube of hydrocortisone cream. Stiles thanked him, and then went over to the
mirror to check his face. Derek usually put some sort of moisturizer on his
face if he knew Stiles was going to want some. It usually worked. His face
seemed fine, but Stiles pocketed the tube anyhow.
The last time happened just five minutes ago. And Stiles still could feel the
heat on his face. Danny had looked at him sheepishly, again, and handed him a
piece of paper and looked somewhere over Stiles shoulder when he'd said, "I've
um...noticed your walk, lately. I thought because I've seen you with...that guy
who's obviously not your cousin, Miguel, that um. The beard was the problem.
Sometimes, you just need...better lube. Or more of it. I gave you the name of a
really good one."
"Uh," Stiles had replied, because he honestly couldn't even think of what to
say to that.
"Yeah, so," Danny had smiled at him, dimples and all. "Just tell him to be
careful. He's a big guy. He might not realize he's being too rough. Unless
that's...how you like it?"
Stiles had blinked once, twice, gaped like a fish, and then swallowed thickly.
"Yeah, um. Thanks. For the tips. I'll. Do that. Next time."
And then, when Danny had disappeared back to where the veil of awkward had
dissipated, Stiles finally realized what had been going on. He had a waddle. He
was waddling now. And it made Danny think about Stiles' sex life far more often
than he wanted anyone not him or Derek (or occasionally Scott when he was being
an asshole) thinking about it.
He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, and called Derek. "You win. I'll
stay home until the baby's born. Come get me. Now."
"Are you okay?" Derek asked, but Stiles could hear the sound of Derek's car
starting.
Stiles swallowed and nodded, before he realized Derek couldn't see him. "I'm
fine. Well, no. I'm not. I waddle now. I waddle and it's all your fault that I
had the most awkward conversation in my life about lube and you're going to get
here and take me home and make me forget today ever happened."
Derek's laugh wasn't muffled in the slightest. Dick. "Noted."
                                      ***
The worst part was that Stiles had almost gotten used to being pregnant and
waddling and cravings and having to fuck in awkward positions because he now
had a steadily growing protrusion. Yet, he was in no way prepared to open his
eyes one morning, flop on his back, and notice that his pecs were less pec-
shaped and more...full, round. And not in the 'dude got too fat and got moobs'
way.
"Oh, my god, Derek, I am growing breasts. Actual breasts, Derek. I hate you. I
hate you. I hate you, so much. Why would you do this to a person? I just want
to know that. Why? This is some sort of payback, I just know it. Is it because
of the Miguel incident? This is totally taking a grudge too far. I mean. Derek,
fuck, I have tits now, and I'm fairly certain they're not done growing yet. And
Deaton! Deaton knew this would happen. And he let me think he was just fucking
with me. I cannot even believe this."
Derek sighed, and turned from the computer where he was writing one of his
cheesy supernatural romances. "It's not as bad as you're making it."
Stiles stared at him, eyebrows raised. "I beg to fucking differ. It's bad
enough you knocked me up with your mutant Alpha sperm and I can't even get the
notoriety of being a cast member on Teen Mom, because everything in my life is
a bundle of lies and secrecy and shame. I now have to deal with breasts.
Ohmygod, this means I'm going to lactate, doesn't it? As soon as I can heft
myself up into a standing position, I'm going to find a way to murder you."
The second Stiles said the word lactate, Derek's eyes glazed over in that way
that meant he was thinking about sex.
Stiles almost could forgive him for it, but he was still too horrified.
Instead, he grabbed his phone and glared at Derek over the top of it and sent
him a text. Boobs: Not fun on me. I have two words for you, babe. Wolfsbane
machete.
"I was wondering when you'd finally gift me with one of your notoriously awful
haiku."
Stiles glare intensified. "I will find some way to make you pay. Mark my
words."
                                      ***
Stiles was right. Horrifyingly right. Lactation was a thing Stiles could check
off in the column of new life experiences he'd never thought he'd have.
Unlike Stiles, Derek apparently had no problem with the appearance of boobery.
In fact, Derek got this spaced-out look whenever he was within reach of them
and had taken to tugging Stiles' shirt off with an alarming frequency to get
better access.
"So, Deaton," Stiles said as soon as the vet answered his phone. "I think
something's wrong with Derek."
"What seems to be the problem?" Deaton asked and Stiles poked his finger on
Derek's forehead, but he was too busy licking to pay him any attention.
Stiles cleared his throat. "He's...um. It's like he's...god. Um. Drunk?
Or...or...hooked on my...colostrum."
After Deaton stopped laughing silently—Stiles could totally tell that he was—he
started to explain about some nonsense biological imperative about keeping the
daddy around. Stiles hung up on him part way through.
He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to gather some Zen, then scrolled over
to Scott's number. He'd thought up some good quality haiku and he knew just the
person to appreciate them.
                                      ***
"And then, I'm going to teach you how to play Lacrosse," Scott said in a
ridiculous baby voice to Stiles' belly. "We'll show your daddies who's the best
player in the world. It's you. That's who."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "This baby isn't going to be doing anything but
shitting, sleeping, and crying for a good long while, Scott."
"Have you come up with a names yet?" Scott asked, still smiling like a dope.
"Or are you still battling it out over Tali and Kaidan?"
"Derek said no names based on characters from Mass Effect, can you believe it?"
"A total injustice, man," Scott replied, giving him a fist bump.
Stiles flung his arms wide. "I know! Now, we're setting for safe, boring names
like Miranda and James."
"Does he realize those are all also from Mass Effect?"
Giving Scott a smirk, Stiles tapped his nose. "Hehehe. Who's the man? Yeah,
baby. I am. I rock so hard."
"Well, you roll at least."
Stiles kicked Scott in the shoulder. "Fuck you, bro."
Tossing his head back, Scott just laughed.
                                      ***
Stiles was resting in bed, achy, miserable, and filled with baby, regretting
all of his life choices. He was an eight month pregnant teenage boy, mated to
the Alpha failwolf of the local failpack who was currently pressing his face
between Stiles' breasts—his breasts, his breasts, his breasts, dear god—like it
was the best thing that ever happened to his life. And Stiles didn't care if he
had to call Scott to help him, if Derek started motorboating, he would find a
way to beat him to death.
"Hmmm," Derek said, looking punch-drunk and blissful as he started mouthing
Stiles' nipples. Stiles just stared down at him, the way his lips curved in a
smile he rarely saw before this whole disaster, the way his hand caressed his
belly with a gentleness he would have said was foreign before this ridiculous
pregnancy, and thought, okay, maybe, just maybe, they could make it work.
Stiles curled his arm around Derek's stupid head and let Derek rub his stupid
stubble against Stiles' stupid breasts, and said, "Yeah, you too, dumbass."
                                      ***
When the squirming, grossly coated with goo, bundle of joy was placed on
Stiles' chest, Derek declared that he, in fact, would be naming their daughter.
Derek looked down at her, smiled, and said, "Jennifer Lola Hale."
Stiles and Scott looked at each other for a moment and broke out into a fit of
laughter, and Derek never understood why.
                                   The End.
End Notes
     Stiles ends up having eight, count 'em eight, kids. The people of
     Beacon Hills don't know what to think about the lone, remaining Hale
     and the Sheriff's kid getting married right out of high school, or
     why every so often a new baby shows up at their rebuilt den of
     iniquity. It's odd and strange and if anyone connects Stiles'
     fluctuating weight problem with each new bundle of joy, no one's
     telling.
      
     Note: Jennifer Hale is the voice actor for the main character in Mass
     Effect. (If you play as a lady)
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