Ironically, Stiles was just returning to his dorm after failed negotiations about a possible adoption agreement with a local pack, when he saw her. She was cornered, her eyes narrowed and entire body quivering. He could feel the magic emanating from her. Three big bullies surrounded her, laughing grimly. Stiles was well aware that using offensive magic was only allowed under extenuating circumstances, so it wasn’t likely she’d use it to fend them off.
Unable to curb his protective instinct, Stiles turned down the alley, yelling. They immediately turned on him instead, thinking him an easy victim. Not that he would blame them for their assumptions - Stiles was well aware that he didn’t exactly present an intimidating picture, but he was an alpha’s mate and knew how to defend himself. Especially against three pathetic humans.
When the first thug launched at him, Stiles growled and bared his teeth.
The fight was short and Stiles was left with only a blooming bruise on his jaw when the bullies scurried away. The scar from Derek’s mating bite was throbbing a bit; a sign that he’d drawn on the connection to add a bit of force to his punches.
Body aching from the exertion, mind whirling from his conversation with the Fuentes Pack, he turned to check up on the girl.
“You all right?”
She turned bright blue eyes on his and nodded, her blonde curls bouncing with the movement.
“You run with wolves,” she said and he couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question, but answered nonetheless.
“Yes, I do.”
While righting her flowy dress, she gave him a curious stare, her gaze both piercing and faraway. Stiles couldn’t help but feel like she was looking directly into his soul.
“Why are you sad?” she inquired, brushing imaginary dirt off her skirt.
Stiles fought a flinch and cleared his throat while considering the situation. It wouldn’t be right to let a stranger in on pack business, so he shook his head at her.
“Just a bad day, I guess.”
Her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. Then she held out her hand in greeting and wanting to remain polite, Stiles took it.
“I’m Kiandra. Thanks for helping me. Not many would have done so, and I’d like to reward you with a wish - anything you’d like, as long as its purpose is pure.”
Stiles balked, stepping back. She was a fairy?
“No no, that isn’t necessary. No big deal, really.”
She sighed, hands moving to her hips.
“I promise there are no ulterior motives. It’s just a favor for a favor. Why do people always suspect disaster is about to strike when they get offered something good without having to pay?”
Her features softening, she tilted her head.
“Do you want pups with your mate? Is that why you were trying to talk Alpha Fuentes into entering an adoption agreement with your pack?”
Choking on his breath, Stiles jolted back.
“How... What the... How did you know?”
Instead of answering, she smiled brilliantly.
“I can help you with that. It’s not difficult at all.”
Before Stiles could even answer, she’d stepped up close and placed a hand on his abdomen. A rush of heat surged through his belly, making his entire body tingle with goosebumps. Just as he got himself together enough to draw a breath in order to protest the invasion of his personal bubble, she drew away.
“There. Now you just need to get your mate to breed you. It’s only going to work once though, so after this you will be back to normal. No need to start birth control.”
With a giggle and a wink, she ducked under his arm, skipping back out into the sunlight.
Stiles gaped after her for a while and then directed his steps towards the nearest fast food joint. He was in need of curly fries!
Of course, he only made it ten feet before his phone blared angrily in his pocket. Derek was always such a worrywart.
When Derek visited Stiles in his off campus apartment that weekend, he still seemed slightly tense about the encounter, as if he hadn’t been able to put his mind to rest before seeing for himself that Stiles was fine. A few well chosen phrases and a bared neck distracted him, though, and Stiles found himself pressed up against the wall, a very horny werewolf rubbing up against him.
Like usual, Derek’s tongue, hands and fingers disengaged Stiles’ brain within seconds and for a while they were just a big mess of writhing, sweating bodies. Their gasps and moans mixed in the air and Stiles forgot all about the fairy, right until the moment Derek started pounding into him with deep, rapid thrusts. Ever since they were officially mated, any and all of Derek’s dirty talk had been in the form of explicit ramblings about how gorgeous Stiles would look if his belly was swollen with pups and how Derek was gonna breed him full.
Aside from the wonderful orgasms, nothing came of it, though. Which was why Stiles had been meeting with local packs near his college, trying to find someone willing to enter an agreement about adoption of possible orphaned werewolf cubs. It was a long shot - like epically, beyond comprehension long - and so far a fruitless endeavor.
Despite the fact he was highly doubtful about the authenticity of the fairy’s spell, Stiles found himself hoping. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed two fistfuls of Derek’s hair and groaned, pushing back against him.
“God yes, fucking fill me! Shit, I wanna have your pups, come on, Derek.”
Uttering a sound like someone had punched him in the gut, Derek seized up and came, his whole body trembling. Stiles curled around him as best he could, enjoying the jolts of over stimulation as Derek’s hips kept thrusting weakly through the aftershocks.
“Holy fuck,” Stiles groaned, fingers going slack in the sweaty mess of Derek’s hair. Derek grunted and braced himself, starting to get up.
“No!” Stiles yelped, grabbing his ass and hanging on to it. When Derek’s eyebrows went up to greet his hairline, Stiles quickly continued, “Just… stay there for a while? Don’t pull out yet.”
With a judgmental, but reluctantly fond, eye roll, Derek collapsed on top of him, muttering about weird, clingy boyfriends. Seeing as Stiles knew Derek secretly liked the idea of keeping his mate’s come inside of him, he ignored the comments.
He did, however, feel a smidge of regret when they woke up sticky and all but glued together next morning. He nearly told Derek about the fairy’s present, but in the end decided to wait. There was no reason to get his hopes up if it was nothing more than a fairytale.
Back when they decided they were ready to start their own family, they had spent a long time discussing their options. Derek’s instincts wanted his mate to carry their cub, no matter the fact it was impossible. Stiles had done a thorough search for options, but it hadn’t seemed feasible, excluding surprise favors from faeries.
Surrogacy had been discussed next, and while it was the only other way to get a kid with their own genes, it had been a short debate. With the werewolf instincts, Derek feared he might accidentally react in a bad way to a stranger carrying Stiles’ scent. Also, it would have to be a werewolf surrogate since the cub would have a fifty percent chance of being a werewolf if they used a mix of both their semen. A hairy baby with fangs and claws would be kinda difficult to explain to a human surrogate. Neither of them had wanted to ask the girls in the pack, despite their apparent willingness. Being their alpha, Derek had felt it was wrong to ask them for such a thing. Carrying his cub would disturb the pack dynamics and also, Stiles was almost certain Derek had sensed his reluctance against their child sharing genetics with a female in the pack. Even after all this time, Stiles still wondered, sometimes, why Derek had chosen him and when something would inevitably separate them. Rationally he knew there were no reasons for him to have those thoughts, but they kept bubbling up in his subconscious.
In the end, they agreed on adoption and had since been busy trying to figure out a way to establish an exchange with other packs, where orphaned cubs needed a new family.
Then the fairy happened.
During his lunch break on Monday, Stiles called Deaton’s office. The vet answered with his usual, aloof tone, a cat yowling pitifully in the background.
“Hi Dr. Deaton, it’s Stiles. Can you talk?”
“I’m alone apart from Mister Fishy here,” the vet answered. There was a muted patting sound and the cat hissed.
“Um, right, well, I just wanted to ask you about… magical pregnancies. Have you ever encountered any?”
Deaton hummed thoughtfully before answering.
“I might have read about some, but what is it you want to know? These cases vary a great deal, depending on the circumstances and type of spell. Can you give me some specifics?”
Stiles wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
“Let’s say I, hypothetically, managed to help a fairy and she wanted to return the favor by making me able to carry a child? There were no words spoken, and no rituals or supplies used.”
“Hypothetical, hmm? Well, hypothetically, Mr. Stilinski, you may want to tell your boyfriend to wear protection.”
Ignoring his stomach doing a weird, swoopy thing, Stiles cleared his throat and croaked into the receiver, “Suppose that warning is way too late and I’m not exactly upset about it?”
After a few beats of silence, Deaton uttered a low ‘Ah’ and then there was the sound of a metal cage being closed. Mister Fishy’s baleful meows faded in the background and soon Stiles heard the telltale noise of pages being turned. After a while, Deaton spoke.
“Here it is. In the few cases recorded, there seems to be some common denominators: heightened emotions, due to the hormonal imbalance, elevated sensitivity - and before you can ask, Mr. Stilinski, yes that also applies to sexual activities. While you shouldn’t experience morning sickness, you will most likely have cravings. Nothing to worry about, it’s just your body’s way of telling you what it needs. Also, seeing as it’s a magical pregnancy and no one is really sure what alterations the male body goes through for this, it’s very uncertain whether you’ll be able to confirm pregnancy through the usual means. We can do an ultrasound, but that is not viable until at least two months in. The fetus will need to be a certain size before we can try, because I for one, am not exactly sure where the hypothetical womb is gonna be.”
Trying really hard not to freak out at the images his brain provided, Stiles cleared his throat.
“How exactly would this hypothetical baby come out? I’m getting some seriously disturbing Alien scenarios in my head right not.”
“Well, I imagine a c-section would be the best choice, but even with a natural birth, I can assure you, you won’t need Ridley Scott to write the manual.”
Resisting the urge to scream at his phone, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. “Right, thanks, Doc. Anything I should be aware of? Things I need to avoid?”
“Spells like this are usually self-sustaining, so I imagine you’ll be fine, but as I said, listen to your body. Eating healthy and adding some vitamins to your diet won’t hurt. You are always welcome to call if you have questions. I will do my best to answer. Oh, and also, are you coming home for Christmas? We might be able to do an ultrasound then.”
“If I don’t, my dad will overdose on cookies and pie. Also, I kinda wanna be with my wolfman for the holidays, he needs a certain amount of Stiles cuddles to last while I’m away. So yeah, I’ll be home for Christmas.”
A tinny sigh filtered through the connection.
“No use wishing for you to gain the ability to answer with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, I’m guessing.”
“Rude!” Stiles yelped. The dial tone refused to answer.
When Stiles was back in Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving, he still hadn’t felt anything abnormal regarding his body or his eating habits, although he had stocked up on vitamins, just in case. His resolve to wait with telling Derek hadn’t weakened, especially since he’d gotten a photo from Isaac of Derek staring longingly at a baby stroller. His own disappointment would be enough if this all turned out to be imaginary.
He’d barely gotten through the door, before he was assaulted by his dad, hugging him like they hadn’t seen each other in years. Next after that Scott punched into his side, clinging like a lovesick octopus.
Before he knew what’d happened, he and Derek both had been roped into going to Jungle as a step in the elaborate plan to get Isaac laid - courtesy of Lydia. They hadn’t gone clubbing since the summer after Stiles turned eighteen and even though neither of them really enjoyed it enough to go regularly, Stiles thought it could be fun. So, that night, dressed in his favorite skinny jeans and a much-too-tight shirt, he, Scott, Allison and Isaac went to pick up Derek from his apartment.
As they pushed their way through the crowd towards the tables in the back, a weird, restless feeling murmured in the pit of Stiles’ stomach. Some small part of him wanted to get out of there into familiar territory and away from the many strangers. He shook it off, telling Derek to get him a coke, ignoring the raised eyebrows. While he sometimes enjoyed a drink, Stiles didn’t usually drink himself stupid when he was out with Derek, seeing as the werewolf metabolism made sure he wasn’t affected and Stiles didn’t enjoy being the only one drunk.
For about an hour, they all entertained themselves by pointing out potential prey to Isaac, watching the poor pup try and fail many times. In the end, Stiles took pity on Isaac and hauled him to the dancefloor.
“Here, grind on me for a bit. They’ll soon see what they’re missing.”
Isaac shot a nervous look towards the table where Derek was deep in discussion with Scott, arms cutting through the air to underline a point.
Stiles scoffed. “Don’t worry, neither of us are the jealous type. Derek won’t mind.”
For a few minutes the awkwardness prevailed, but slowly, the music seemed to seep under Isaac’s skin and before long, they were swaying to the beat, bodies moving together in slow rolling waves.
Just as the second song fizzled off, already half covered by the pulsing beat of its successor, a dimply-smiled redhead was making eyes at Isaac. Stiles made an obvious show of thanking Isaac for the dance and gestured for the redhead to go ahead. The two were already tangled up before Stiles reached the edge of the crowd of dancers.
Smiling to himself, Stiles made his way back to their table. Scott and Allison were making out, seemingly lost to the world around them and Stiles scouted the club for Derek. He located his target at the bar and started to make his way over, when he caught sight of a hopeful blonde closing in on Derek. A sudden, fierce burn punched through his gut, almost knocking him off his feet. Clenching his hands into fists, Stiles stomped towards them, eyes glued to where the blonde was pawing at Derek’s arm. Derek wasn’t encouraging the guy, but he wasn’t pushing him away either. Always too damn polite for his own good, which was ironic, considering that when Stiles had first met him, Derek’s default setting had been anger and aggression.
The scorching rage made bile rise up in Stiles’ throat when the guy leaned in, laughing as he swept his hand up to grab Derek’s shoulder. Increasing his pace, Stiles ignored the way his entire body was trembling and his vision blurring. The sting in his eyes was caused by the cloying perfume in the air in here, nothing else!
Blondie was looking about ready to try for a kiss or at least a request for a phone number when Stiles reached them. Not even pausing to acknowledge the guy almost plastered against Derek’s side, Stiles threw himself at his boyfriend, mouth first. Derek made an ‘oomph’ sound, but caught Stiles around the waist, pulling him in. After a long minute of devouring Derek, Stiles pulled back and threw a nasty glare at the blonde. If looks could kill, this guy would be nine yards under already.
“Can we help you?”
Blondie flinched at Stiles’ hostile tone and stammered a bit before turning on his heels and disappearing into the crowd. When Stiles whipped his head back around, Derek was looking at him with a strange expression, somewhere between amused and scandalized.
The churning fire in Stiles’ stomach flared bright and the sting in his eyes worsened. If he didn’t get out, he’d end up crying, right here in the middle of the fucking nightclub.
“Oh, I’m sorry. If you would prefer the company of Drooling Blonde, then be my guest. Go find him!”
With that, Stiles spun around, all but running towards the exit.
As soon as the fresh air hit him, a small amount of reason returned to him and he knew something was off. He’d never been jealous before. He had no reason to doubt Derek and in fact, he’d previously taken great joy in watching the many, many people who wanted what he had, trying and failing to tempt Derek. He hated jealous types and what was worse: he knew Derek did too. Oh god, what had he just done?
Before he could freak out even more, the door opened behind him and Derek’s angry voice echoed off the buildings on either side of the alley.
“What the hell was that, Stiles?”
Giving up on restraining his tears, Stiles whipped around. Derek’s scowl vanished as soon as he saw the wet tracks on Stiles’ cheeks, leaving him looking slightly panicked. Wiping at his face, Stiles sniffed and turned towards the main street, where cabs were waiting for business.
“I wanna go home.”
He’d walked halfway to the mouth of the alley when the warmth at his back told him Derek had followed. The cab ride was very quiet, apart from the occasional sniffle and neither of them said anything as they climbed the stairs to Derek’s apartment.
As soon as the door closed behind them and Stiles’ nose filled with the inherent scent of Derek, his mood took a wild leap, straight into desperate want. His body felt way too hot and he clawed his shirt off before grabbing a handful of Derek’s shirt and dragging him to the couch, which was the closest usable furniture.
Derek’s eyebrows drew together when he was pushed into the cushions. He tried to get a grip on Stiles’ hands when they immediately went for the hem of his shirt.
“Stiles! What are you doing? You can’t just - fuuuuuck!”
When Stiles bent to bite at his neck, grinding down into his lap, Derek’s objections cut off. The desire pumped through Stiles’ veins, shrouding everything outside their little bubble in a haze. Running his lips and teeth across any skin he could reach suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the entire world and he set to the task with fervor.
Though still seeming confused, Derek quickly melted into the couch cushions, panting and rolling his hips up against Stiles. All too soon, Stiles couldn’t stand the barriers between them anymore, so he ripped Derek’s fly open and yanked the pants off them both before frantically clambering back into Derek’s lap.
“Derek, shit, you gotta…”
Trailing off with a frustrated whine, Stiles dove into the pocket of his discarded jeans for the single-use packet of lube he’d put in there during a hopeful moment. His shaking hands caused him to make a total mess of Derek’s cock and balls, but he simply lifted himself up, wanting to get fucked right now.
Eyes widening comically, Derek sputtered, “Woah, wait, you can’t just… Shit!”
Ignoring everything but the bone-deep yearning pounding in his body, Stiles slammed down onto Derek’s cock, relishing in the sharp burn and the little-too-sudden stretch. His nails dug into Derek’s pectorals, leaving temporary, red lines in their wake. His fevered mind drove him into a frenzy and he rode Derek harder than he’d ever done before, body bucking and writhing, searching for more and harder. Now!
The tight coil of pleasure low in his stomach was spiralling faster than ever before and when he managed to look down through heavily lidded eyes, Derek was looking back at him, a bewildered, but absolutely wrecked expression on his gorgeous face.
“Come on, Derek. Fuck me, please. Please, please, please…”
Stiles’ continued begging was cut off when hands tightened on his hips and Derek rammed up into him. Throwing his head back, Stiles cried out, the ecstasy exploding, shattering him into what felt like a million little pieces. His body trembled and shook and his hands lost their grip. He would’ve fallen, if not for Derek grabbing onto him and holding him in place.
When he came to, two things pushed to the front of his mind. One, Derek was looking at him like he couldn’t believe what just happened and two, Stiles’ come was sprayed up Derek’s chest, across his chin and even some into his hair.
Clearing his throat, Derek flicked his eyes down to the mess between them. “Did you just…?”
Immediately, embarrassment set in. Stiles hadn’t come like this - way too fast and like a freaking geyser - since they had just started dating. Derek was still very much hard inside him, even though the confusion seemed to be doing its best to deflate the situation.
“Sorry, I don’t know what happened. I’m so, so sorry…”
He tried lifting off Derek’s lap, but was restrained.
“Hey, no, it’s all right.” Smiling softly, Derek urged Stiles closer. “You got yours, it’s my turn now, right?”
The words were clearly meant to lift the mood, but right then Stiles felt like a total failure, emotions in turmoil, making him want to scream and rage one second and cry the next. Of freaking course he’d shoot off before they’d even gotten started. Derek had to be so disappointed in him, though that should come as no surprise. What else was he good for?
Sitting back down, Stiles felt his lower lip quivering. Blinking furiously, he contemplated just throwing himself out the window to avoid the mortification. Normally, he didn’t have self esteem issues, but why not add that to the ever-growing pile of problems he’d caused?
Derek’s face regressed to the near-panicked expression he’d had outside the club, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Before he could say anything, Stiles slumped forward, smushing his face into Derek’s neck.
“‘M sorry.” His voice was barely audible, muffled into the soft skin and scruff.
Derek sighed, his hot breath making the small hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck flutter.
“What is going on, Stiles?”
“I don’t know. I think someone implanted a PMS’ing brain into my head.”
Derek scoffed, his arms tightening around Stiles’s waist, as he stood up to walk them both into the bedroom. Derek deposited Stiles on the mattress and as he crawled back his dick slipped out, making Stiles whine at the loss. Lying in the big king size, Stiles watched as Derek walked over to his antiquated stereo. After a few seconds, a happy beat filled the room. It only took a moment for Stiles to identify the song and when he did, he couldn’t help smiling. His mom had instilled the love of Queen in Stiles at an early age and he’d been thrilled to discover that Derek was partial to their music too.
A chuckle escaped him as Derek turned back with a crooked grin on his face, hips swaying to the music. The fact that no one else ever saw Derek like this, goofy and carefree, made a giddiness bubble in Stiles’ gut. He was the luckiest guy in the whole world.
When Derek reached the edge of the bed, he sang along with the lyrics, eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Don’t stop me now, I’m having such a good time.”
Bad mood lifting, Stiles wiggled up to the headboard, spreading his legs as he started singing, off-key, but enthusiastic.
“I’m a sex machine ready to reload,
Like an atom bomb about to
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, explode.”
Growling, Derek dove onto the mattress, making Stiles bounce. Before Stiles could continue singing, Derek’s lips descended on his and all of a sudden, he had no fucks to give about lyrics. They wrestled around for a bit and Stiles kept trying to get on top, squirming free every time Derek thought he had a grip on him. Annoying Derek in bed usually had delightful consequences. In the end, Stiles got pinned, a snarl rumbling deep in his boyfriend’s chest.
Sticking his tongue out, Stiles made a break for it, not getting far before Derek hauled him back, fitting his still human teeth in the crook of Stiles’ neck. Enjoying the playful mood, Stiles feinted left, managing to trick Derek for all of two seconds before an iron fist clamped around his upper arm.
“Stop it.” Derek’s voice was slightly muffled, as if talking around a pair of fangs.
“Oh look, it’s the Big Bad Wolf,” Stiles fake-gasped, pushing his ass back against Derek’s crotch. “I thought you were gonna fuck me?”
He’d barely gotten the words out before a clawed hand gripped the back of his neck, shoving him face first into the mattress. The sounds coming from Derek weren’t even close to actual words, but Stiles got the gist of it. He smirked, getting ready for a thorough pounding - when he managed to draw Derek’s wolf side out to play, orgasms, bruises and a veritable come bath were always inevitable. Thanks to his overactive hormones, his dick was already well on the way to fully hard again, twitching whenever he was manhandled.
Derek’s arms curled around his waist, hauling him into position on his knees, face still buried in the sheets. A rustle of the blankets was all the warning he got before he felt Derek’s erection nudging against him, still slick from the leftover lube. When the head went in smoothly, Derek whimpered and slammed in, balls deep in one go. All the air in Stiles’ lungs were punched out of him in an obscene moan, spurring Derek on. He growled, pounding into Stiles like he’d never get another chance and Stiles was soon coming all over himself and the sheets. Smelling his mate’s release made Derek even more ferocious and when he roared, ramming into Stiles one last time, shaking and convulsing with his orgasm, they were both decorated with bruises, scratch marks and a truly astounding amount of hickeys.
After a quick clean up, Stiles fell asleep with his favorite werewolf - shhh! Don’t tell Scott - draped over his chest and a goofy smile on his face.
As soon as he blinked his eyes open the next morning, Stiles launched himself off the mattress. Derek expelled a sleepy grunt and rolled over, but otherwise didn’t stir. This was something Stiles wanted to do alone anyways, in case he was wrong, so he got dressed and snuck out to his car, heading off towards Deaton’s clinic.
It was quite early and the only one in the waiting room was an old lady with a depressed looking poodle. Stiles nodded at her and proceeded to let himself in through the gate to the exam rooms. Deaton was in the first room, sterilizing a table when he looked up and caught sight of his visitor.
“Ah, Mr. Stilinski. How can I help you?”
Fidgeting, Stiles scanned their surroundings for any eavesdroppers before speaking.
“Um, I had a major emotional fit last night, and I thought it might be prudent to go see you sooner rather than later. Is there any way we can check if I’m…” He stopped there to make vague gestures, pointing to his still flat abdomen.
Deaton’s face turned thoughtful for a moment.
“Perhaps, with some luck we could do an ultrasound, but I can’t promise we’ll be able to see anything, even if there is indeed a fetus in there.”
Stiles thought about Derek’s angry and confused reaction to his freak out the night before and gave the vet a determined nod. “Do it.”
He almost regretted his decision when Deaton squirted ice cold gel onto his belly.
“Shit! You couldn’t have warmed that up a little?”
The only answer was an amused snort.
The vet rolled the wand through the gel, forehead frowning in frustration. “There seems to be some sort of protective membrane under your skin. It’s impeding the ultrasound’s efficiency. Let me just…” Trailing off, Deaton adjusted a few dials and tried again. After a few long moments, the vet perked up, pressing a button to freeze the screen. He pointed towards a shapeless splotch in the middle, turning a smile on Stiles.
“There we are, Mr. Stilinski. Congratulations.”
While he’d been sort of expecting it, the news still made his whole world tip upside down. Some part of him was ecstatic, wanting him to jump around in joy, but the other part was stuck in disbelief. Was this real? How could it be? He and Derek had wished for a way to have their own cub for so long. Initially, Stiles had been hesitant, not because he didn’t want kids, but because he was so young. Derek’s instincts, though, were activated as soon as they mated and after a year of watching his boyfriend pine for any baby they came across, Stiles let himself consider it. An afternoon talk with his dad, was what had finally decided the matter for him.
He was roused from his internal tug of war when Deaton wiped the gel off his stomach, hauling him upright again. The vet held a piece of paper out for Stiles to take, which turned out to be a print-out of the screenshot the vet had taken during the ultrasound.
“I’m guessing you’d want to have this to show Derek since he wasn’t with you.”
Swallowing, Stiles nodded, refusing to acknowledge the moisture in his eyes.
“Yeah, thanks Doc. I didn’t want to bring him in case it was just me being paranoid. He doesn’t need any false hope, you know?”
“When you’ve discussed the matter with Derek, we should make another appointment for your next check-up. I will consult some of my colleagues about your situation. Some of them might know more than I do,” Deaton smiled and escorted him out of the examination room with a hand on his elbow. Nodding a greeting, he went to fetch the lady with the poodle.
Once he was back in Derek’s apartment, Stiles puttered around restlessly, waiting for the werewolf to wake up. The descent in supernatural activity in Beacon Hills had allowed the alpha to ease up on his hypervigilance, in effect calming him down. Over time, Derek had developed into a heavy sleeper, his grouchiness - while not gone - showing up mainly in the mornings if someone dared to wake him up with any less than a dire emergency.
Stiles was feeling giddy, so he went into the kitchen and rooted around the fridge looking for ingredients for a breakfast. He wanted to celebrate a bit, so he sacrificed the good bacon and made scrambled eggs with onions to go along. Normally, Derek only ate fruit or yoghurt for breakfast, the health freak, but on occasion he could be persuaded to indulge.
Precisely two minutes after Stiles started frying the bacon, a sleep-mussed and bleary eyed Derek shuffled into the kitchen, nose twitching.
Tamping down the urge to coo at the adorableness, Stiles smiled at his boyfriend and held up the pan for him to see.
When food was involved, Derek could go from zero to sixty impressively fast and his arms were winding around Stiles’ waist before he’d even turned all the way back to the stove.
“What are we celebrating?”
The rumble of his voice vibrated against Stiles’ back and he melted back into Derek’s warmth, enjoying their closeness. Teeth nibbled on his earlobe, sending shivers up his spine.
“Did I forget an anniversary? I can never keep track of all the ones you insist on.” Derek’s hands had started wandering, no doubt searching for a covert route to the sizzling meat on the pan. “Did we exchange ‘I love you’s for the first time five years ago or is it the anniversary of the first time I folded your socks right?”
Squawking indignantly, Stiles swatted at Derek’s questing hands.
“No! I’m not that bad.”
Derek’s eyebrows were very eloquent when they wanted to be. Right now they were clearly broadcasting several different insults to Stiles’ personality.
Huffing, Stiles stomped over to the plates and dumped a good half of the bacon on his own portion of eggs, glaring at his boyfriend when Derek tried turning on the puppy eyes when he sensed less bacon in his own future. Stiles refused to let himself be swayed by a stupid, gorgeous face. After a few moments of struggling to get Stiles’ attention, Derek fetched his own plate and snatched the rest of the bacon, immediately popping a piece into his mouth. When the silence continued, the only sound in the kitchen the crunching of their chewing, Stiles could see Derek’s face turning into the confused one he always wore when he genuinely didn’t know what the problem was. Stiles was ravenous though, so he let his boyfriend dangle a bit.
Eventually, Derek held out the last two pieces of his bacon as a peace offering. Not being able to help smiling then, Stiles pushed the plate back to Derek.
“No, you keep it. I’m sorry I’ve been so moody. But you might as well get used to it.”
Derek adopted his ‘what the fuck’ expression, eyebrows jumping up and down before settling on a frustrated frown.
“Why would I need to get used to it?”
God, he couldn’t look at Derek while saying this, he just couldn’t. He was pretty sure his mate would be ecstatic, but the nerves were churning in his stomach and he felt a little nauseous at this point.
Stiles averted his eyes, picking at stray crumbs on the table cloth. “You remember the fairy I told you about? The one I helped out with some bullies?”
“Well, um, she might have done a magical thingamajig. I wasn’t sure she was serious, so I didn’t wanna say anything, but um, now I know she was telling the truth.”
When he cautiously raised his eyes to meet Derek’s gaze, the werewolf was back to his single raised eyebrow expression of disbelief.
“What? She made you extra annoying? How will we ever survive?
Groaning, Stiles smacked his head onto the table. Perhaps he should just come right out and say it. Less jabs to his personality that way. He fished the ultrasound print-out from his pocket and slammed it down in front of Derek, who gave it a quick glance before looking back up.
“What is that? A Rorschach test?”
With his emotional instability, Stiles strongly suspected there was a few veins popping in his forehead. He never used to react like this to Derek’s jibes or teasing, it was a thing they did like others held regular conversations. Derek must’ve heard his elevated heartbeat or sensed the flaring anger, because he sat back in his chair, a blank expression on his face. Knowing Derek, Stiles was pretty sure the old mask was in place to conceal hurt feelings. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, rubbing his temples.
“Again, I’m sorry, Derek. But I am serious, this might take some getting used to, for both of us. I just think the outcome is worth it.” Pulling up his courage, he set a careful hand on the ultrasound picture, forefinger caressing the unidentifiable blob in the middle, before just blurting it out. “I’m pregnant.”
For a split second, Derek’s face flickered between a fascinating mix of confusion and annoyance. Then his eyes widened, the fork slipping from his grip, clattering onto the table.
“You… How… You’re telling the truth?”
Tempted as he was, Stiles managed not to laugh. This really wasn’t a laughing matter, but his boyfriend’s expressions were quite hilarious.
Looking at his mate’s guarded expression, the hope burning in those gorgeous eyes, Stiles smiled, nodding.
“Yeah, I’m pregnant. Fairy magic is good!”
Before he could even blink, Derek had vaulted clean over the table, throwing himself into Stiles’ lap. Whining, Derek ran his hands everywhere, placing kisses on every piece of skin he could get at. Stiles winced when he felt a sting of claws. Derek only ever lost control when he was so emotional he couldn’t keep it bottled up inside anymore.
“Easy, big guy,” Stiles mumbled, scratching fingers through his mate’s hair.
Instantly, Derek stilled and climbed back off. His eyes were still wide, chest heaving, and his entire body had started trembling. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m just…” He trailed off, hands gesturing in vague patterns, nothing meant to make sense.
Leaning back, Stiles breathed in deep, savoring the woodsy, leathery smell which followed Derek everywhere - he did wear that damn jacket too much. Over that was a subtle layer of aftershave, nothing strong enough to bother a werewolf’s nose, though. Beneath it all was the scent Stiles loved most; the strong, earthy smell of Derek himself. When mixed with a bit of musk and sweat, Stiles found it absolutely irresistible.
“So, I’m guessing you’re happy?”
The glare Derek sent his way was kind of ruined by the way his mouth kept trying to curl up into a smile. “What do you think?”
Stiles smirked. “I’m thinking you look like you’re about ten seconds away from stripping me out of my clothes - which I am totally in favor of, by the way.”
Growling, Derek surged forward, hauling Stiles up and carting him off to the bedroom.
They reemerged four hours later, Stiles covered in hickeys, Derek with an almost drugged expression and a dopey smile. For the rest of the day, the werewolf kept sneaking hands on Stiles’ belly, even though there was nothing to feel yet.
Sunday morning, the issue came up of when to let people know Stiles was pregnant. They agreed to tell the pack and the Sheriff in one go. Better to get all the questions over with right away.
To avoid getting disowned for not talking to the Sheriff alone first, Stiles insisted on inviting his dad over for dinner along with the pack, to soothe him with a well prepared steak.
Normally Stiles did the cooking, but an overprotective Derek had dragged him into the living room and deposited him on the couch with the remote. Derek was actually great in a kitchen, but preferred to leave it to his boyfriend whenever possible. However, being pregnant seemed to be a sure-fire way to avoid working too hard. If Stiles smirked a little into the blanket he was burrowing into, well, nobody needed to know.
He was still on the couch, watching reruns of Myth Busters, when his dad arrived with Scott and Isaac in tow. Peter, Erica and Boyd entered a few moments later. After the mandatory hugging sessions - where everyone avoided Peter, the creepy wolf - his dad whipped his head around, sniffing the air. His eyes narrowed and he shot a glare at Stiles.
“What did you do, son?”
“I didn’t do anything! Why?”
His dad pointed towards the kitchen with an accusatory finger. “I can smell streak. You never let me eat that unless you’re gonna ask for me to turn a blind eye on some kind of supernatural shitstorm or you need to soften the blow when confessing you and your motley gang of furries have accidentally demolished half the house. So, spill!”
Flailing indignantly, Stiles sputtered, trying to come up with an appropriate answer when Derek appeared in the doorway, looking amused at his boyfriend’s predicament.
“Dinner’s ready, guys.”
In typical fashion, all food vanished within record time. The Sheriff looked like he was contemplating licking his plate to avoid wasting even a milligram of the precious meat, but eventually settled for directing a mournful gaze at the half eaten steak on Stiles’ plate. Stiles pulled it closer, not willing to give up his meal.
Derek snorted, leaning in to mutter in his ear. “Should we start stocking up for when you actually start eating for two?”
The kick Stiles directed at his boyfriend under the table felt justified, even if the only response was a chuckle from the werewolf.
When Erica got up to fetch the dessert in the kitchen, Stiles’ dad cleared his throat. “So, care to tell us what the occasion is? I refuse to believe you’d allow me to eat steak without a reason, son.”
The butterflies in his stomach had settled somewhat during dinner, but now they’d awakened with a vengeance. Stiles felt his cheeks heating, leaning into Derek for support.
“Um, yeah, well… I guess I should just spit it out.” He tried not to flinch at the unwavering attention the pack directed at him. Peter was sniffing the air, a smirk slowly forming on his face, Scott’s expression adorably confused and the Sheriff had his resigned face on, waiting for a confession of sins. Well, if enthusiastic fucking was included, Stiles could oblige. “I’m pregnant.”
Everybody froze. In the silence, Stiles’ blush deepened and he had to fight the urge to burrow under Derek’s arm - he was a grown-up, dammit!
Suddenly, Isaac twitched, a low whine in his throat and just like that, they all burst into action. In less than ten seconds, Stiles and Derek were in the middle of a tangled mess of hugging arms and squealing and jumping.
The tension Stiles hadn’t even known was growing in him, loosened at the joyful congratulations and numerous calls to be godfather, or mother. Isaac and Scott descended into a poking war when they both volunteered for the job. When everybody had retreated to their seats, Stiles squashed down the trepidation and raised his gaze to his dad. The Sheriff was still in his chair, jaw hanging open and a weird, conflicted expression on his face. As they watched, he drew in a sharp breath, blinked twice and then croaked, “I’m gonna be a grandpa?”
At Stiles’ nod, his dad sniffled, suspiciously bright-eyed. Without hesitating, Stiles launched himself out of his chair and into his father’s arms.
Muttering his thanks, Stiles gave his dad a squeeze.
The rest of the night went by quickly, all things baby related were discussed in endless loops. Erica and Isaac called dibs on helping design the nursery and the Sheriff told Stiles to help himself to anything in the attic.
Later, when Stiles was preparing for the drive back to college, Derek hugged him close, a content rumble in his chest.
Stiles laughed. “You purring, babe?”
Derek poked him in the side, muttering about moment-ruining, stupid boyfriends. He was still extremely reluctant to let go of Stiles when it was time for him to take off, though.
Due to strenuous exams, Stiles had to stay at school the following weekends and Derek was too busy maintaining the territory to drive up. They chatted over skype as often as they could, but it was still a huge relief when Christmas holiday rolled around, marking the halfway point in his junior year.
Packing only his biggest shirts and hoodies - he’d already begun to show, what the hell? - Stiles set out for Beacon Hills. He had an actual, physical yearning to be close to his boyfriend, so he might’ve challenged the speed limits on a few occasions.
What his dad didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him, however, so Stiles didn’t waste time feeling bad about it. He needed his baby daddy!
He threw the Jeep into a parking spot in front of Derek’s apartment building, hauling his bags along, trampling up the stairs as fast as he could manage. By the time he was ringing the doorbell, he was wheezing, cursing his belly for the shift in his balance. He had not signed up for this. There was no way he was supposed to have trouble with stairs this soon in his pregnancy.
The door opened to reveal a confused looking Derek.
“Stiles, hi! Why are you so out of breath? Did you run here from school?”
Glaring, Stiles straightened up, making his baby bump visible underneath his shirt.
“No, but apparently I’m already fat enough for the stairs to be a problem. This is just-”
He would’ve gotten into a good rant if not for the fact that Derek just fell to his knees right there in the doorway and lurched in to hug Stiles around the middle. His face was radiating pure bliss as he rubbed his scruff on Stiles’ protruding stomach. Chuckling, Stiles grabbed a handful of soft, black hair, tugging. Derek resisted, tightening his hold and whining.
“Come on, Sourwolf. Can we at least go inside and close the door? Your neighbours already think you’re weird. Seeing this won’t help.”
Instead of answering, Derek just clasped his hands behind Stiles’ back, lifting both of them off the floor in one go. Before Stiles even had a chance to feel uncomfortable about his current position, he was lowered to the couch and then immediately covered by his very own werewolf blanket - complete with an ongoing, vibrating rumble. Hands petted his sides as Derek just sort of rubbed on him. Stiles figured it was a scenting thing.
“Um, babe? Not that I don’t enjoy this, but I really have to pee and you’re heavy.”
Derek was up and off in record time, hands stuffed in his pockets as though he needed a physical barrier to keep them off Stiles. When Stiles pulled himself off the cushions and headed for the bathroom, he paused to plant a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back and then maybe we could take the cuddle fest into the bedroom? I promise you all the time you want with my belly.”
When the werewolf opened his mouth to argue, Stiles snorted, smacking Derek’s muscled chest. “Don’t even try to deny it!”
Rolling his eyes, Derek sighed, throwing him a sheepish smile.
Once in the bathroom, Stiles fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, grumbling. His stomach was protruding enough to make him have to crane his head in order to see what he was doing. After relieving himself, he shuffled into the bedroom shedding everything but his briefs on the way. Derek was waiting in bed and turned when Stiles entered the room. Red eyes snapped to his belly, making Stiles’ cheek flush with heat. He was used to Derek looking at him like he was a particularly appetizing steak, but the intensity in this stare was unprecedented. It made goosebumps rise all over his body and a tingle run up his spine.
As soon as he hit the sheets, Derek’s hands were all over him, branding his skin and leaving hot fire in their tracks. Gasping, Stiles closed his eyes, mouth open in a silent moan. His stomach hadn’t been a sensitive spot before, at least not in sexual way, but now, all he could think about was keeping those hands on him and getting Derek’s cock in his ass.
“Derek, come on. Lube… get… fuck!”
Nuzzling into Stiles’ side, Derek gave an amused huff. “Eloquent.”
Stiles whined in protest, trying to claw his underwear off. Derek’s hands caught his, pinning them to the mattress before leaning in to sniff at the taut skin of Stiles’ lower belly. Just as Stiles was getting ready to complain, Derek’s tongue lapped across his side, up over the bump to his navel. Stiles moaned, loudly, as the action seemed to melt every bone in his body. His dick throbbed in his underwear and when he couldn’t stand it anymore, Stiles wrenched a hand from Derek’s grip and started rubbing himself through the cotton of his briefs. He needed to be touched, he needed to be filled. Derek was too slow!
Apparently, his desperate writhing got the message through and Derek slipped off his own underwear, then flipped Stiles over, yanking his underwear below his ass and spreading his legs. Then he plunged his tongue, his entire face, in between Stiles’ ass cheeks, already groaning in delight. Stiles’ ecstatic shout was muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, but he canted his hips up, pushing back onto his boyfriend’s tongue to make sure his approval wasn’t doubted.
With his sensitivity heightened, it was a matter of a few minutes before Stiles was sobbing into the pillow, shooting his come into his underwear. Derek whined, retreating before covering Stiles’ back, using a hand to line himself up. His fat cock head pushed through, stretching Stiles wider than he was really ready for, not that he cared. Derek groaned, a fierce and urgent sound, his hips snapping in shallow thrusts, seemingly trying not to go too hard too fast.
Usually, Derek didn’t tend to be vocal during sex, but for some reason, having a visibly pregnant Stiles beneath him opened the gates. Though muffled into Stiles’ throat, there were audible growls and several exclamations along the line of ‘Mine!’ and ‘Gonna breed you full’. Stiles would have told him ‘been there, done that’ on that last one, but he was too busy clawing at the sheets and trying not to black out, his post orgasmic body still trembling and jerking whenever Derek hit a good spot.
All too soon, Derek’s movements turned erratic and his muscles tensed. Stiles was mentally preparing for the extra deep thrust Derek favored as his finale, when sharp-tipped fingers grabbed his waist, pushing him forward and off of Derek’s cock before turning him on his back.
Growling, Derek straddled Stiles’ legs, bracing himself and wrapping a hand tight around his erection. With his face a mix of bliss and urgency, Derek jerked himself with frantic pulls and then whined like the sound was punched out of him, abdomen tensing and shoulders curling forward as long, hot spurts of come shot across Stiles’ stomach, decorating his stretched skin. Pulse after pulse, until there was barely any skin left unmarked. Even when he started twitching from over-sensitivity, Derek kept trying to squeeze more come from his flushed, drooping dick.
Stiles shouldn’t find that as hot as he did, but he had given up on expecting normal responses from his body long ago. With a contented sigh, he wiggled back into the sheets. If Derek wanted the jizz fest cleaned up he’d have to do it himself, it was his fault it was all over the place, anyway.
As it turned out, Derek really enjoyed the mess, though, and spent a handful of minutes smearing his come into Stiles’ skin, focusing on his belly, as if he could make Stiles’ skin absorb his very essence. Not that is was necessary. Their mating bond would be sufficient to ward off any suitors, unless they were the suicidal kind.
Eyelids getting heavier by the second, Stiles carded his fingers through the deceptively soft strands of his mate’s hair, pulling him up and into a sloppy, half-asleep kiss.
Before either of them could drum up the will for actual words, they drifted off to sleep, bodies humming with satisfaction, the mating bond practically singing between them.
Despite his intentions to stay at school until he’d finished his last semester, Stiles had to cave shortly before spring break when his classmates staged an intervention. They seemed to have looked through his flimsy excuses about his swelling belly and formed the conclusion that he was developing an impressive beer gut. His friends decided to follow him around in order to ‘keep an eye on his alcohol consumption’ - for his own sake! Well intentioned, for sure, but rather inconvenient for Stiles.
Admitting defeat, he packed up his dorm and drove back to Beacon Hills, his college education on stand by until further notice.
When he drove into his home town, back aching and feet swollen from the drive, he went straight for Derek’s loft. They’d all agreed it would be best for both Stiles and the baby if they got some rest and the Sheriff had seen enough of their reunions to steer clear. He claimed he’d been irreparably traumatized back in the early days of their relationship, when Derek had arrived back from pack negotiations and they failed to make it further than the couch. To be fair, no man should witness his son in the throes of a mind-melting orgasm, his son in law wolfed-out and busy licking stuff up.
Stiles ascended the stairs, panting and puffing, having to cling to the railing like an old lady. The door was unlocked, so Stiles slid it open and waddled in. He'd barely made it into the living room before he was hauled off his feet, bags flopping to the floor, and carted off to the couch.
Once Stiles got his bearings back, he gave his mate a fond, but exasperated look, trying not to crack up at Derek's almost drugged expression.
Derek shot him a glare, snuggling closer to stuff his face into Stiles' neck, hands pawing the big belly between them. Sighing, Stiles pressed his smile into Derek's hair, letting himself relax completely into his mate's arms. He’d started to drift off when a muffled ‘Yes’ was muttered into the crook of his neck. Stiles hummed in reply, his smile growing.
With less than two months till his due date, Stiles was lying in his bed, ready to kill anyone who as much as looked at him wrong. He felt like a fucking whale, okay? Now, he researched as much as any expecting mother… or, well, parent, and naturally he went through google images looking at a ton of time-lapse photos and videos of pregnant bellies expanding over the weeks of gestation. And none of those ladies had gotten even close to the circumference Stiles was now sporting. He was grumpy and emotional on an average day, but one look in a mirror and he was ready to shoot himself. It had only taken a week for Derek to remove all reflective surfaces in his apartment. He was ridiculous like that, catering to Stiles’ every whim without a single growl or scowl, regardless of how silly or outrageous the request was.
Except for one thing. Ever since Stiles got big enough that his stomach became an actual hindrance in his everyday life, Derek had categorically refused to have any kind of penetrative sex with him. If Stiles insisted, he’d get this pinched look, darting worried glances at Stiles’ swollen belly, before diving for Stiles’ boxers and attempting to suck his brain out through his dick. When Stiles tried to reciprocate, Derek would coo about wanting to mark up his territory and jerk off, covering his mate’s skin with his scent. After a few repeats, Stiles stopped asking for more. Who would want to fuck someone the size of a hippo? Derek probably only sucked him off to be nice. Pity blowjobs. Awesome!
Groaning and panting, Stiles got to his feet, walking out of the bedroom and towards the living room, where the pack’s voices could be heard, chatting and laughing.
Upon Stiles’ entrance, all eyes quickly snapped to his waddling form and then away. They all knew how volatile his mood was these days and made a valiant attempt at not annoying him too much.
Derek was on the couch, making grabby hands at him so Stiles headed that way, carefully lowering himself into the cushions. He’d learned the hard way not to just flop down like he used to. Their baby had some pointy toes and well developed leg muscles!
“Hi, babe,” Stiles mumbled as he turned to lay a soft kiss on Derek’s lips.
Derek hummed happily, wrapping a hand around his middle, petting the taut skin and drawing the slight ache away. Stiles’ body, the evil traitor, took this to mean ‘yay, he totally wants us, let’s do this!’ and a significant amount of blood flowed south. Taking a deep breath, Stiles settled for ignoring it - pregnancy had done a number on his hormones, so everyone in the pack had been unwittingly subjected to awkwardly timed boners the last months - closing his eyes and leaning into Derek.
A few giggles reached his ears and he pressed his lips together, trying not to react.
“Woah, Stiles, you smell, uh… you smell! Like a whore house! Derek can’t keep up or what?”
Erica’s voice was bubbling with restrained laughter and Stiles could feel his cheeks heating up, the blush sure to be spreading fast.
Isaac tittered, chiming in with, “More like he can’t get around the belly to reach!”
The betas dissolved into laughter as Stiles’ eyes started to burn along with his cheeks. All the horrible feelings rushed back to the forefront of his mind and suddenly, he didn’t want to be around any of those assholes. Trying to keep his breathing even, he pushed up, perhaps a bit too fast, teetering for a moment before regaining his balance.
“Yeah, ha ha. Let’s all laugh at my misery. He doesn’t try to reach anymore! Apparently I’m too disgusting for him to want to stick his dick in me when I’m like this.”
Storming out was impossible in his current condition, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try!
The shocked silence lasted until Stiles had slammed the bedroom door behind him and locked it. Then he heard low voices and a good deal of growls, no doubt Derek was scolding them for upsetting his fragile mate, and then quick steps approached.
“Stiles... They didn’t mean to hurt you, you know they didn’t. Will you open the door please?”
Huffing, Stiles glared at the door. “Will you fuck me?”
The only reply was a sad whine.
Tears started rolling down his cheeks. Stiles couldn’t remember ever feeling this undesirable. And worst of all was this bone-deep need for his mate to claim him like this, to show Stiles that he didn’t care about how he looked, that it was turning him on to see Stiles bearing their child. Derek had seemed so ecstatic at first and his reaction when Stiles first started to show, had let him to believe Derek wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself as the baby bump continued to grow.
He’d been wrong, it seemed.
“Fine!” Stiles yelled, his voice cracking with his emotions. “I can do it myself. I don’t need you! I don’t even want your pity blowjobs! Go away!”
Shaking in frustration, he stomped over to the dresser, jabbing the power button on their stereo before opening his underwear drawer and reaching in the far back, grabbing the dildo he hadn’t used since he’d been away at college, missing Derek every night. He threw it onto the bed and waddled over to Derek’s nightstand, retrieving the lube before crawling on top of the sheets, the beginning notes of Derek’s favorite Queen album drifted from the stereo. Stiles didn’t really care about what music was playing as long as it muted Derek’s pleas from outside the door.
He laid back, wiggling out of his over-large sweatpants - nothing else would fit! - and squeezed half the remaining lube into his hand. With angry, desperate shoves, he opened himself up, tears continuing to blur his vision and dampen his cheeks. Not caring to wait anymore, he lubed the dildo and maneuvered onto hands and knees, positioning the toy beneath himself and sinking down.
The stretch was too sudden and he hissed in pain, but kept going. It was like his frustration controlled his movements and he pushed back onto the dildo in a frenzy, sobs and gasps echoing in the room. This felt nothing like having Derek inside him - the toy was the wrong girth, the wrong curve and just overall wrong. He needed Derek, not this stupid thing.
He could hear pounding on the door, Derek’s frantic voice yelling for him from outside, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. Derek didn’t want him anyway.
The more he tried to make it feel good, the worse it felt. He tried all the angles that felt amazing with Derek, he tried slow and he tried fast. He stroked his stubbornly soft cock. To no avail.
Finally bursting into real tears, heaving sobs and still desperately fucking himself on the dildo, Stiles felt like he was about to shatter, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces, never again becoming whole.
An almighty crash brought him somewhat out of his haze and he watched as a blurry version of Derek fought his way through the debris of their bedroom door and launched himself at Stiles.
Scrambling back towards the headboard, the dildo slipping out onto the rumpled sheets, Stiles curled in on himself as much as he could around his big belly, yanking the blankets up to try and cover his midsection.
Still crying, he shouted a warbled, “Leave me alone!”
Derek paused for a moment, before he sat down on the mattress, facing Stiles. His voice was thick when he spoke, filled with an emotion Stiles hadn’t heard from his mate before.
“Please, Stiles. I don’t want to leave. I don’t think you’re disgusting, I could never! You are carrying our child, and you look beautiful. That was never the reason, I didn’t… that I-”
When Derek’s voice broke, Stiles couldn’t stop himself from looking up. Derek was looking at him, eyes shining wetly in the dim light, a devastated look on his face. His hands were reaching out, as if wanting to grab Stiles, afraid he’d disappear. Maybe he was… Derek had abandonment issues a mile wide, everyone in the pack knew that.
Clearing his throat, Derek let his hands fall to rest on his thighs. “I can’t explain it well enough, Stiles. My instincts are all over the place. I want to protect you and the baby, and I am scared of what might happen in a moment of passion. I could so easily hurt you both… I couldn’t risk…”
Giving kind of a half-shrug, Derek slumped, hiding his face in his hands.
Stiles was starting to shiver under the thin blankets, coming down from his adrenaline rush. Grabbing a corner of the fabric, he used it to wipe his eyes. He took a deep breath.
“You should have told me, Derek. I needed you close. I know I’m not a wolf, but I have instincts and urges too, and it’s been killing me. You’ve avoided contact with me recently… Were you afraid I’d jump you if you got too close?”
“No,” Derek muttered, using his claws to pick at a hole in his jeans. “The other way around, actually. My instincts have been screaming at me. I’m sorry, I guess I just freaked out.”
Sighing, Stiles reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his mate’s shirt, pulling. Derek whined, moving a blur until he was covering Stiles like a hot werewolf blanket. Little whines were pushing out his throat and Stiles immediately buried his fingers in Derek’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Despite his aversion to any dog-like behaviors, Derek was too fond of the scratching to protest too much.
Curling closer to Derek, Stiles snuggled in to get a kiss before pulling his mate’s head down to rest on his chest, above his heart. This position never failed to calm Derek down.
After a few minutes of silence, he whispered into the dark strands of hair poking at his chin.
“Please, never do that to me again.”
The arms circling him gave a squeeze and a soft ‘I won’t’ drifted to his ears, right before the world slipped away into dreams.
When Stiles woke in the morning he felt sweaty and out of breath, his crotch throbbing and sticky. At first, he thought he might have had a wet dream - it wouldn’t be the first time lately - but as the sleepy haze cleared somewhat, he became aware of his dick standing proud against his belly.
Confused, he pried his eyes open, only to nearly have a heart attack.
His voice wouldn’t work and what eventually squeaked out wasn’t close to the manly tone he’d aimed for. “What-”
Derek twisted around to look behind himself from where he was straddled across Stiles’ lap, facing the foot of the bed. His muscled back was facing Stiles, the triskele tattoo moving and stretching with him. What really made him feel like he was about to explode everywhere, was the fact Derek had three fingers buried in his own ass, lube running down his inner thighs as he worked himself open.
With a smug grin, Derek removed his fingers and picked up a condom from the sheets, throwing it at Stiles’ face.
“Morning! Wanna fuck?”
Sputtering, Stiles grabbed the condom packet. “Why do we suddenly need a condom?”
Derek shrugged. “Just to be safe. You never know with fairies and it’s enough that you’re pregnant right now.”
Opening his mouth to snark back, Stiles suddenly froze as the implications of this position dawned on him.
“You want me to fuck you?”
Derek’s genuinely puzzled face made Stiles’ eye twitch. “I thought you didn’t do that? With the Alpha instincts or whatever…”
Derek rolled his eyes just a little bit too hard. Stiles took his aggressions out on the foil in his hands, snatching the condom and reaching to put it on. No matter what issues they were uncovering right now, there was no way in hell he wasn’t gonna take advantage and fuck his mate.
“I like getting fucked, Stiles, but I don’t let just anybody do it.”
Screeching - and throwing the damn condom at Derek’s face, because he couldn’t fucking reach around his enormous whale baby bump - Stiles flailed his arms as best he could. “Oh my God! So, you’re saying, I could have been fucking you this whole time? Why didn’t you ever say so?”
Derek retrieved the condom and rolled it on Stiles’ still hopeful dick, sighing.
“You never mentioned it, and I thought you preferred receiving, you know?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stiles dropped his head back into the pillow. “Okay, another box checked in the ‘Miscommunication is going to kill me one day’ column… Can we just… I am really horny and I wanna put my dick in you! Or, well, I want you to put my dick in you. I am useless with this giant baby in the way.”
A hand landed on his distended belly and Derek ducked down to place a kiss right where stretch marks had formed around Stiles’ navel. “Not a problem. I happen to like you like this,” Derek mumbled, fingers circling in soothing patterns.
Stiles might have been inclined to argue, if not for the fact that Derek turning half around to get at his belly, had revealed his cock, flushed and full, straining towards that delicious treasure trail Stiles always wanted to pet. And lick. Whatever.
He reached up to pinch a nipple. Derek hissed and gave him a glare, dampened somewhat by the fact he’d been staring adoringly at Stiles’ stomach a few seconds prior.
“Get on with it, wolfman!”
Apparently, Derek did take orders… on occasion. He slicked Stiles’ dick and turned around so his back was once again facing his mate. Although they both would have preferred being face to face, Derek would have difficulties fitting them together that way, since Stiles’ belly was just too big.
Taking a deep breath, Derek reached under himself, grabbing Stiles’ cock and lowering himself. He went slow, tight muscles reluctant to allow passage. Trying to provide comfort, Stiles reached a hand out, running his fingers down Derek’s back. With a sigh, Derek opened up and then Stiles was busy trying not to come right away. He usually had good stamina, but the mating bond was thrumming through him, like it was rejoicing this new aspect of their coupling, and it made his every nerve sing - in the best way possible.
On top of him, Derek gasped, and Stiles moaned at the feeling of Derek’s body clamping down on him.
“Oh God, you feel it too?”
Derek whined, nodded, and started to move his hips, sending them both into a whirlwind of sensations. Stiles’ last coherent thought was a hope that none of the pack had shown up at the house yet, because even if they tried to be polite and not listen in, there was no way they’d miss this.
Stiles woke up still wrapped in Derek's arms, dried sweat and come sticky on their skin. A look out the window told him it was around midday and he reached back to poke Derek.
"'m hungry. Make food!"
There was a dissatisfied rumble from behind him, before Derek's arms withdrew and he rolled out of bed, shuffling to their dresser. Before Derek had even gotten a pair of underwear on, Stiles’ bladder made its presence known and he heaved himself off the mattress, waddling to the bathroom as fast as he could manage. When he’d relieved himself he shuffled over to attach himself to his mate's back.
"We're gross! Shower with me?"
Stiles never passed by an opportunity to get naked with Derek, so who cared if this was also a way to get help with washing his feet? Derek certainly didn't, his protective instincts practically made him purr whenever he had the chance to take care of Stiles.
Giving an affirmative hum, Derek changed course for the bathroom, dragging Stiles along.
Afterwards, dressed in their comfiest clothes, they made their way to the kitchen. When they entered, Stiles saw Derek’s nose twitching, a sure sign that his supernatural senses had caught onto something. Taking a quick look around the room solved the mystery. On top of their kitchen table, there was a platter of Stiles’ favorite sandwiches and a jar of Nutella - pregnancy caused weird cravings, okay? If he wanted to eat a jar of creamy chocolate spread, he damn well would!
As they walked closer, Stiles taking a seat at the end of the table where it was easier to get up from, he noticed several post-its stuck to the plate. Apparently, the pack had been there at some point this morning, unnoticed.
OMG I did not need to hear that!
Please air out the apartment before we come back.
If you ever wanna try a threesome, let me know!
Fighting the blush, Stiles picked up a sandwich and took a bite. He was starving. His metabolism had always been impressive, but since getting pregnant he could eat more than the wolves and still be hungry. A thought occurred to him and he swallowed, clearing his throat.
“Hey, how big are the chances the baby is a werewolf?”
Looking up from his own half eaten food, Derek frowned, tilting his head a little. “I’m not sure, really. I mean, some of the kids in my family were human, even though both parents were wolves, so obviously, it’s possible for the wolf gene to skip a generation, but whether it’s more or less dominant than the human gene I can’t say. Perhaps Deaton knows? He must have some records or something…”
Nodding, Stiles went back to his sandwich.
After a long moment, Derek squirmed in his seat, eyebrows scrunched together. When Stiles looked over, Derek’s mouth opened and then closed, like he’d been about to say something.
He reached over and curling his hand around Derek’s wrist. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
Throwing him a quick glance, Derek hesitated for a moment, before saying, “Do you want… Would you prefer, if… if the baby is not a werewolf?”
For a second, Stiles was completely confused, but then he remembered one of their biggest arguments had been about Stiles not wanting the bite. Derek wanted his mate to be a wolf, both because of the increased strength of the mating bond between two wolves, but also because he was afraid to lose Stiles. Humans were fragile, easily hurt and slow to heal.
They had discussed the issue several times, occasionally heatedly, but Stiles refused to take the bite, unless it was to save his life in case he got hurt.
However, Deaton approached Stiles about learning magic not long after their argument, and the issue became irrelevant, since he could defend himself by other means.
It would seem, though, that it was still on Derek’s mind. Hurt and disappointment flashed through Stiles - how could Derek think that he’d care about whether or not their child grew fangs and claws? Derek himself was a werewolf and Stiles certainly had no problems loving him! - but it faded fast. He knew his mate was a worrier and as per usual, they hadn’t really talked the issue through once a solution was reached. At this point, they really ought to know not to leave these things unresolved.
“Derek, look at me.” Stiles took a deep breath as those hazel eyes turned on him. “I really shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I do not care if our baby is a werewolf or not. It doesn’t matter to me. I will love him or her, either way… In fact, I already do.” Trying to give his mate a comforting smile - how did those look, exactly? - Stiles rubbed his belly through the too-big sweatshirt he was wearing.
Cheeks reddening, Derek stood up, coming around the corner of the table to hug him from behind, bending down to nuzzle into his neck. A low ‘Thank you’ was whispered into his skin.
Stiles grinned. “Don’t sound so surprised. I love you, don’t I? If I can love the grumpiest werewolf in existence, I should have no issues whatsoever with my own child being growly and fluffy.”
Snarling playfully, Derek hauled Stiles off the chair and into the living room, dumping him onto the couch and force-cuddling him.
Stiles snorted. “If this is supposed to be punishment, I feel like I should let you know it’s not working.”
A warm breath huffed against his collarbone.
“Shut up, Stiles.”
The vet clinic’s parking lot was empty when they arrived, since Deaton scheduled their check-up well outside of his regular opening hours. As soon as the car was in park, Derek shot out and around to Stiles' side, flinging the door open. Even though he knew it was just the hormones talking, it still irked Stiles and he glared up at his mate's anxious face.
"I am still able to open my own fucking door, Der!"
Derek looked conflicted, shuffling slightly from side to side. Heaving a deep sigh, Stiles relented, offering an arm that was grabbed right away and got out of the car. Isaac, who had insisted on tagging along, appeared at his other side, but Stiles shot him a glare before he could offer support. Granted, Stiles was beyond big at this point, but he was still a stubborn Stilinski and he could damn well walk to the door with only one werewolf to cling to!
Deaton let them in and took them to one of the examination rooms in the back where there were no windows for curious passers by to look through.
As Stiles settled on the examination table, he watched Deaton as the vet’s eyes widened briefly before he schooled his expression.
“Well well, Mr. Stilinski. Your baby seems to have hit a growth spurt recently.”
Glaring, Stiles rubbed his strained belly. “Gee, really, Doc? I hadn’t noticed.”
Ignoring the muttering of his patient, Deaton proceeded to take Stiles’ blood pressure and checking his heartbeat. He attempted to use the ultrasound - damn the cold gel, damn it to hell - but was thwarted once again by the protective membrane around the temporary womb.
Humming in thought, Deaton went to his shelves to fetch a couple of dusty books. After browsing through them for a few minutes, he looked up and narrowed his eyes on Stiles’ midsection before muttering and diving back into the pages. Stiles was starting to get nervous. The vet didn’t look happy and while it might not mean anything, Stiles’ tendency to expect the worst hadn’t lessened with his paternal instincts kicking in.
What with his finely tuned senses, Derek had honed in on the fact that his mate was getting anxious and he stepped up close, his body a warm line of comfort against Stiles’ side. When he spoke, Derek’s tone revealed his anxiety as well. “Deaton? What’s the matter?”
The words might have been phrased as a question, but Derek’s tone left no doubt that he expected a full and thorough answer. Fast.
Scratching at his chin, Deaton closed the book he was perusing and looked up.
"The literature is vague, but from the information I've gathered, Stiles seems to be growing rapidly and I think we should consider scheduling a c-section. If we let Stiles carry the baby to term we risk the baby getting agitated with the cramped surroundings and if it is a werewolf, Stiles could get hurt. Not to mention that Mr. Stilinski’s heart and lungs need room to function properly. In my opinion it would be preferable to avoid that possibility."
Stomach swooping - and not in the good way - Stiles swallowed, trying not to freak out at the gory images flashing through his mind. Beside him, Derek whined, a sharp sound that echoed off the tiled walls. Apparently, he had the same bloody pictures branded on his retinas.
"Sounds like a good plan," Stiles croaked, hand finding Derek's and squeezing tight.
Mouth curling into a wry smile, Deaton glanced at Stiles' pale face. "Not to worry, Stiles, there is minimal risk with a c-section, both for you and the baby."
"Am I allowed to be present?" Derek interjected.
Deaton's expression turned pinched. "Technically yes, but there are dangers. Stiles will be anxious and there will be blood, not to mention that you will have to watch me cut into him. You might react badly, Derek, and if your instincts cause you to interfere, it could mean injuries to your mate and cub. I'll let you decide as you know the limits to your control, but think it through, please."
Nostrils flaring, Derek nodded.
"Right, that's it, then," Deaton declared, waving for Stiles to get down off the table. "I will check my calendar and let you know when the c-section is possible."
They trudged out to the car in tense silence. On the drive home, no one spoke either, all three of them deep in thought.
As they closed the door to the apartment after them, Stiles sighed. “Okay, I don’t know about you guys, but I seriously need some cuddles and at least one whole season of FRIENDS!”
“Good idea,” Isaac darted off to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets by the sounds of it, as Stiles dragged Derek to the couch. He dropped down into the cushions and made grabby hands until Derek sank down beside him, face still blank enough that it made Stiles suspicious.
“Are you okay?”
Derek cleared his throat, looking over. “Yeah, I just… I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve been so focused on the baby that I completely forgot to think of the risk this puts you in. What if-”
“No!” Stiles clapped a hand over Derek’s mouth. “Don’t even think it! We both wanted this and the Doc says the risks are minimal if we do the c-section, which we will, by the way, and that’s the end of that. No negative thoughts around our pup, Derek. I forbid it!”
Scowling from under his caterpillar eyebrows, Derek huffed a breath out through his nose. It fanned across the back of Stiles’ hand a second before a warm wetness ran over his palm. Stiles yanked his hand back.
“Did you just lick me?”
A wolfish grin was Derek’s response.
Wiping his hand on his pants, Stiles heaved himself upright and launched sideways towards his mate. “Oh, it’s on, wolfman!”
Derek caught him, worry gone from his face and replaced with laughing lines and a light blush. Cackling like a madman, Stiles attempted to lick Derek’s skin wherever he could reach, but had to change tactics right away since the licking in no way bothered Derek. In his giddy frustration biting seemed like a good substitute, but well, it took about a minute for them to veer off course and when Isaac came in with the snacks he squealed - like a girl, Stiles will be mocking him forever and ever - and dropped it all on the floor.
“Oh come on, guys! My eyes… I’m permanently scarred!”
Stiles detached his mouth from Derek’s nipple. If his voice was a bit garbled, he’d blame Derek’s fingers. Or at least the two of them that were currently down the back of his pants and inside his ass. “Quit bitching, Lahey! You’ve seen it all before, and don’t think I didn’t notice how tight your boxers were that time you caught us in the bathroom when Derek had me up against the wall-”
With hands smacked over his ears, screaming a continued string of “Lalalalala,” Isaac fled the apartment with impressive speed. Even for a werewolf.
Despite protests from Stiles, his dad insisted on being present for the surgery. In the end Stiles allowed it, on the condition that he stay in the waiting room during the procedure. Derek had decided he wanted to be in the room and Stiles couldn't deny him that. Besides, he was secretly relieved he'd have someone there to distract him and perhaps a hand to squeeze.
Most of the pack snuck into the waiting room as well and by the time Deaton was ready, Stiles was too nervous to care that they’d ignored his request to stay at home. Derek had been a weird mix of giddy and anxious all morning and refused to leave him alone for longer than it took to go to the bathroom.
When Deaton called them in, the consultation room had been equipped with a padded table and a lot of monitors as well as an IV stand. Stiles gave the readied needles a mistrustful glare and pushed in closer to Derek's side.
Shooting him a sympathetic smile, Deaton gestured at the table. "Shall we get started?"
Nodding, Stiles attempted to boost himself onto the table, but his legs were like jelly all of a sudden. Derek's arms shot out and around him, lifting him. Deaton came over with a tiny glass of water and a pill. “This will help you relax.”
Stiles took it right away. He’d need its effect before long.
"All right, Stiles, I'm gonna insert the IV needle now, okay?"
He squeaked a yes while Deaton swabbed his hand with disinfectant.
"You'll feel a pinch," the vet informed him as he inspected Stiles' hand for the best entry point, needle in hand. Stiles thought he looked rather like a hungry vampire.
I feel kinda dizzy, Doc," he bit out.
"Ah, the needle phobia. I'm sorry, but this is quite necessary."
If he was less nervous, Stiles would've been smug about managing to make Derek whine by squeezing his hand.
At least the damn needle was in. Deaton gave him a few last check-ups and gave Derek a chance to scent and kiss Stiles before activating the anesthesia.
The world went blurry and fade, Derek's hovering face the last thing he saw.
At first he got a hazy impression of a face hovering in his vision. The skin tone was dark and Stiles' foggy mind thought of puppies and meowing kittens. Oh... Deaton.
"... did good, Stiles... healthy and..."
Before he could make sense of the cut-off sentences he caught, the world spun and faded again.
Next time he surfaced, Stiles' head was clearer and he blinked, looking around him. Outside the windows the sky was turning dark, so he must have been under for several hours. He was on a soft double bed with clean hospital sheets in what he recognized to be the recovery room in the vet clinic. Deaton must’ve moved him here after the surgery.
He pushed himself up, hissing when the pain kicked in. There was immediate movement in the corner and he craned his neck to see. Derek was by his side before his eyes even managed to focus.
"How are you doing? You feeling okay? Deaton said you could have more painkillers when you need it."
Stiles smiled at his mate's half-anxious, half-exhilarated face.
"I'm okay. A bit groggy." He paused as Derek bent down to kiss him, deep and hungry, like he'd been afraid of never getting the chance again. "Can I meet our baby now? Where is he? He's okay, right?" Stiles could feel the color drain from his face as adrenaline started pumping. He always had such atrocious luck.
Eyes widening, Derek grabbed Stiles' shoulder and squeezed. "Calm down, Stiles, everything went according to plan."
Stiles prided himself on being able to spot deflection from a mile away. He was a pro himself after all. There was something Derek was skirting around and while that was usually an indication of bad news on the horizon, Derek's face was too relaxed, too content for that to be the case. He wasn't even sporting his usual 'this is my resting face, so what?' frowny eyebrows.
"Then what aren't you telling me?"
Derek's expression remained neutral for a second too long and Stiles opened his mouth to issue a few well chosen threats, when the corner of Derek's mouth twitched up and his eyes glinted with amusement. Stiles narrowed his eyes, trying to look dangerous, even though he probably just resembled a disgruntled chipmunk. At least Derek was smart enough to rein in his smirk.
"Exactly how much danger did you save that fairy from?"
Baffled, Stiles blinked at his mate's cheerful face. "What? Why does that matter?"
Looking like he was actively fighting a laughing fit, Derek ran a hand through Stiles' hair. "Well, she was either very grateful or you annoyed her somehow."
"What? I was a perfect gentleman!"
"She must've felt she owed you a big favor, then."
Before Stiles could do more than stare, there was a soft knock on the door. It squeaked open and the Sheriff poked his head in. "Are you ready?"
Struggling to sit up to get a better view around Derek's bulk, Stiles managed to make grabby hands at his dad. "Oh my god, yes, let me see my child!"
Looking a little sheepish, the Sheriff used a foot to push the door open all the way and entered with two bundles in his arms.
Stiles stared. Cleared his throat. "Uh, did we have twins?"
Beside him, Derek started wheezing. Stiles whipped around to see his mate smothering a giggling fit into his sleeve. Despite still being somewhat groggy, Stiles punched one of Derek's ridiculously muscled arms.
"What's so damn funny?"
Another figure appeared in the doorway and Sties looked over and then back to Derek once he saw it was just Erica. He only got halfway there before his mind caught up with his eyes and snapped back. Erica was holding another two bundles, soft blankets wrapped in a protective cocoon. Faint snuffling noises reached Stiles’ ears through the insistent ringing that was suddenly echoing in his ears. He felt his eyes bugging out and sputtered, pointing between his dad and Erica. "What... They're... Four?!"
"No, seven, dude!” Scott laughed from the waiting room. He pushed in past Erica with two more blanket bundles, followed by Isaac with yet another.
The room spun and Stiles felt the need to grab Derek's arm and hold on.
"Holy God! How... I don't understand... I walked around with seven babies in me?"
"Seems so," Deaton said from the corner. Even the stoic vet was fighting a smile and if not for the seven babies in the room and the dull ache in his abdomen, Stiles would assume this was an elaborate prank.
The Sheriff chuckled, bouncing the babies in his arms softly. “Well, at least we know Derek doesn’t shoot with blanks.”
Derek promptly turned an impressive shade of red, but was saved from replying by Stiles.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with SEVEN babies?” he cried hysterically.
The bundle in Isaac’s arms started crying, disrupted by the outburst. The sound thoroughly distracted Stiles from his own distress and he reached out for the bundle. Once in his arms, the baby settled and blinked barely opened eyes up at him. Stiles’ fingers found their own way to the soft, plush cheek, stroking reverently.
“So, um,” he said, voice low and calm, “Can I get some introductions here?”
Scott beamed at him, handing over one of his bundles to Isaac and started pointing. “Your dad has two girls, Erica two boys, this is a boy as well,” he indicated the baby he was carrying himself and then the one in Isaac’s arms,”Isaac’s got a girl and the one you’re holding is a girl too.”
Smiling, Stiles rocked the bundle he was holding slowly from side to side, looking up at Derek. He was about to ask whether or not their babies had inherited the claws and fangs, when one of Erica’s bundles sneezed and both of the ones his Dad was holding started growling with surprising confidence.
Snorting at his Dad’s blanched face, Stiles mumbled to Derek. “Guess I don’t need to ask if they are werewolves, huh?”
Derek shook his head, a smile stretching his lips. “No, you don’t.” He then looked up at their audience and cleared his throat. “Guys, could we have a moment, just us and the cubs?”
Everybody shuffled over, arranging the babies on and around Stiles, until he was covered in little sleeping, drooling werewolves. A part of him was ecstatic - they finally had their family! - and another part was still struggling to haul his jaw up off the floor. How were they supposed to handle having seven babies? He’d heard enough grueling stories from people who only had twins!
He turned, ready to voice his worries to Derek, but stopped short when he caught sight of his mate’s face.
Derek’s eyes were suspiciously bright, a big smile splitting his face. In fact, he looked… proud. Very proud. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles used his arms to pull a wiggling cub in closer to his body. “Are you preening? Oh my God, you totally are! You big, macho alpha male, you!”
A couple of the babies frowned in their sleep when Stiles’ voice turned gleeful and Derek scoffed, not managing to dislodge the smile and ridiculous expression.
“Shut up, Stiles.”
“You know, you’re gonna have to stop telling me to shut up all the time, when the cubs start understanding what we’re saying.”
Derek chuckled. “Our swear jar will have to be really big.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can’t wait to see your face when they’ve chewed up one of your precious books and you have to cough up some serious bucks for that jar.”
Between them, one of the girls yawned and waved a chubby hand in the air. Derek scooped her up and held her against his chest where she immediately nuzzled in, rubbing her cheek against the patch of chest hair above the neckline of his v-neck.
Affection swelled in Stiles, a lump forming in his throat at the sight. Despite being overwhelmed by their sudden abundance of kids, happiness bubbled in his stomach. “So, how are we going to keep up with seven werewolf babies?”
A quick flash of trepidation crossed Derek’s face before he relaxed, lowering his head to place a kiss on their daughter’s downy hair. “Well, we have a pack to help and probably also an eager grandpa… I think we’ll be all right.”
Stiles’ answer was interrupted by the door creaking open and the Sheriff sticking his face into the room. “Are you about done? I need to hold the rest of my grandkids.”
Huffing a laugh, Stiles waved his hand as best he could while holding his arms around the sleeping bundles, keeping them from getting too close to the edge of the mattress. “Take your pick, old man.”
The Sheriff’s glare would have been more impressive if he wasn’t already approaching, grabby hands stretched out in front of him.
“We need to come up with some more names, Babe,” Stiles said to Derek while relinquishing his hold on one of the boys so his Dad could pick him up.
“Yeah,” Derek agreed as they watched the Sheriff coo at a fuzzy head poking out of a blanket burrito, starry eyed as a small hand grabbed at his fingers. “Yeah, we do.”
They had about two seconds of blissful peace before Derek yelped, shaking out his hand. There was a shallow cut on his thumb and the cub he was holding grinned, showing off tiny fangs. Halfway through mocking Derek for his betrayed expression, one of the babies closest to Stiles started crying, the others soon joining in. In no time at all, the noise was deafening and Stiles slumped back into the pillow, trying to burrow deep enough for both his ears to be covered.
He groaned. “Fairies are evil!”
Five years later.
"Laura! Claudia! Let go of your sister!"
Trying his best to look unamused, Stiles grabbed the backs of two of his daughters' Grumpy Cat shirts and hauled them off a supremely annoyed Talia. Somehow those two always had to gang up against their siblings. According to Derek it was because they were the only two with a majority of the Stilinski genes. Lies, all of it! They were little angels. Mostly... okay, occasionally.
"Run outside and tell Papa we’re ready," he ordered, pushing his little terrorists out the door into the garden where the rest of the pack waited.
Talia sighed and picked herself up, dusting off her batman dress, her face in a frown she had no doubt picked up from Derek. "They're so silly, Dad! Look at my dress..." She trailed off with a wobbling lower lip and Stiles' heart clenched fondly. Talia had always seemed like an old, wise soul and she detested the rambunctious play her sisters and brothers engaged in.
She once witnessed Isaac in the throes of a nightmare and ever since, mess and dirt had made her anxious. Isaac felt awful about it, surmising he must've spoken in his sleep, about the way his dad used to yell at him about keeping things clean and neat.
The problem was a rare occurrence at this point and Stiles smiled at his daughter, hauling her up on his hip.
“No worries, cuddlebug, I’ll wash it for you tonight when we get back, okay? No one will ever be mad at you for getting dirty.”
She nodded, her hands grabbing two handfuls of his hoodie, to make sure he didn’t put her down again. There was a reason for her nickname in the pack - Talia was a master cuddler.
He walked out, warding the door behind them, and joined the rest of the pack in the backyard. Scott and Isaac were wrestling with Camden and Philip, the two five year olds covered in mud and leaves. Their godfathers were faring only slightly better. Over by the berry bushes, Charlie was play fighting with Derek, who dodged and ran with ease despite both Laura and Claudia clinging to his back, shrieking with laughter.
Talia squirmed in his arms and he set her down, smiling as she ran off towards Boyd, who was her favorite. His stoic personality had always soothed her.
Breathing in the fresh, woodsy air, Stiles made his way over to the benches arranged around the fire pit where Erica was busy braiding Paige’s hair. Paige was a spitting image of her papa; dark hair and multicolored eyes, beautifully proportioned and with fair skin. There was no doubt Derek would run himself ragged chasing off her suitors when the time came for that. Stiles shuddered, thanking his stars that those worries weren’t applicable yet.
With a sigh, he lowered himself to the bench, bending down to place a smooch on Paige’s cheek. She giggled and wiped her cheek, causing Erica to clear her throat reproachfully. “Sit still, young lady, or this braid will be uneven.”
Their cozy corner was interrupted when a furry blur crashed into Stiles’ stomach, punching all the air from his lungs.
“Man down! Man down!” he wheezed, pretending to be mortally injured while Philip wiggled triumphantly on top of him, gleeful grin exposing his fangs, baby face covered in puppy fluff.
“I got you, Dad!” Philip yelled, his amber eyes sparkling.
Trying to catch his breath, Stiles reached up to ruffle his son’s hair. “Yeah, you did, buddy.”
Mischief managed was definitely Philip’s motto and Stiles thanked the gods every day that the Weasley twins were fictional. Otherwise, their house would’ve crashed down around their ears a long time ago.
While all of their kids had been able to shift since they were born - the last couple of years with impressive control - Philip was the only one, so far, who managed to do the full shift into wolf and he never failed to brag to anyone who would listen.
Suddenly, the weight lifted off his chest and Derek smiled down at him, Philip dangling over his shoulder. “You guys ready?”
Stiles stood up, stretching on his toes to place a kiss on Derek’s lips, ignoring the chorus of eeeews from the kids.
Everyone got to their feet, shedding whatever clothes they didn’t need. Paige curled her hand around a couple of Stiles’ fingers, both of them watching Derek undressing and cracking his neck before smoothly shifting into his wolf form. To this day, it still amazed Stiles to see him like this, sleek and powerful, red eyes glowing in the dwindling light. In all honesty, it did things to him, but he’d learned to curb his arousal around the kids. They were all werewolves, so they had heard some inappropriate talk Stiles would have preferred them not to - an inevitability in a werewolf family - but the cubs merely made faces at their dads whenever it happened.
Using Stiles’ hand as leverage, Paige hauled him over to Derek and threw herself around his neck, her face disappearing into the thick, black fur. Derek rumbled, what Stiles’ recognized as his happy noise, and twisted his big head to lick at her face. She sprang back, giggling in delight before bouncing off towards Erica.
“Hi gorgeous,” Stiles whispered, digging his fingers into Derek’s soft coat, scratching at the good spot behind his ears. Despite vehement denials, Stiles was well aware of the location of his mate’s favorite petting points.
Sharp teeth nibbled carefully at his fingers and Stiles snorted, withdrawing his hand and grabbing both of Derek’s fluffy cheeks. “You know I’m all for the biting, but it will be awkward, not to mention painful, to go on a run with a boner, so you better stop it.”
The wolf growled, sounding rather exasperated to Stiles’ ears and a chorus of “Gross, Dad!” reached them from behind.
Chuckling, he smoothed the ruffled fur on Derek’s face and placed a quick kiss on his muzzle. “Go show them how it’s done, Papa Wolf.”
With a soft howl, Derek kicked off into the preserve and the rest of the pack followed, howls echoing among the trees. The werewolves always behaved like overgrown puppies on full moons and since the cubs were on their first run with the pack beyond their own backyard, the atmosphere was extra charged tonight.
The cubs were darting off in all directions, zipping in and out between the trees and all of the supposed adults were busy trying to keep track of them. Scott nearly ripped his hair out when he lost sight of Charlie for a brief moment, but was distracted from his panic by the sudden reappearance. Charlie jumped him from halfway up a tree.
In the end, Derek roared them all into order, making a swift end to all escape attempts by snatching the culprit up by their scruff and carrying them back. Apparently, dangling like a baby from their papa’s jaws were a sufficient deterrent.
After a few hours, they took a rest in a clearing near a creek, giving the kids - and Stiles as the lone human - a chance to quench their thirst and catch their breath. The full moon cast a silvery light on the ground and Stiles looked around, enjoying the sight of his pack - his family - rosy cheeked and happy. The betas were play fighting with the cubs, trying to keep them occupied and Derek was making rounds, checking up on everybody to see if they were okay to keep going.
There was a warm feeling building in Stiles’ chest, spreading through his body. He’d felt this particular emotion with increasing frequency the last years and though it wasn’t something he would ever take for granted, he was grateful for it nonetheless; happiness.
With dawn approaching, the reddening horizon signaling the imminent arrival of the sun, Derek turned them all around, heading back for the pack house. The kids only bothered with a few drowsy protests before complying, Talia nagging Boyd into giving her a piggyback ride.
Out of nowhere, a faint laughter echoed among the trees, as if carried in on the wind. All the wolves froze in their tracks, scenting the air and scouting the surroundings, but finding nothing. In his periphery, Stiles registered movement and twisted around to see. There was a translucent figure hovering between a pair of old oak trees, a girl with light, curly hair and a familiar looking flowy dress. It took a moment for Stiles to place her. When he did, he choked on air, jolting a few steps forward without making a conscious decision to do so.
She laughed, the sound like wind chimes, bouncing around the clearing. “I see my gift was well received. I’m glad,” she said, her voice an otherworldly tinkle, before winking at Stiles and then vanishing between one second and the next.
Stiles looked to Derek, the breath rushing from his lungs in one word.