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Baby Stilinski-Hale

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It starts out innocently, as most things do. Well, not most things where Peter is concerned.

The pack is enjoying their summer before college when a troop of gnomes of all things invades the preserve. Scott orders Stiles and Peter to stay at the Hale house to make sure the gnomes don't get in. Stiles rolls her eyes and doesn't bother to argue. She knows she's kept back because A. she's human, and B. to watch Peter. She's tired of arguing about it. If it were a serious threat, she'd go anyway, Scott's orders be damned, but she figures let Scott deal with the gnomes.

She and Peter are left behind a lot. At first there was silence between them. Then a bit a snarky back and forth. Then out came Scrabble and supernatural texts and Game of Thrones and bam, here they are, Stiles would call them possibly friends. Peter certainly is closer to her than anyone else in the pack, including Derek, who keeps him around because they think he's useful. It's Stiles who Peter always stands closest to. Stiles who Peter never lets out of his sight when there's a fight. It's Stiles that Peter cooks for and shares information with, not the rest of the pack. So yeah, Stiles thinks they're friends. She doesn't mind being left behind with him and ignores Scott's puppy dog eyes when he apologizes for making her stay with him.

They usually take turns cooking, and it's Stiles' turn, so while Peter is in the shower washing off gnome blood (they'd had a few try to chew through Stiles' tires), Stiles calls the Thai place for delivery because she's tired and doesn't give a fuck about cooking. The food gets there before Peter is done in the shower, because god forbid his royal highness takes an average length shower, and Stiles is happily eating her fried rice when he emerges in nothing but a towel around his waist. Stiles inhales sharply, getting rice caught in her throat. Peter looks at her in amusement as she chokes and coughs before draining her glass of water.

"See something you like, Stiles?" Peter asks with an arched brow. And it shouldn't entice her like it does. She's seen Peter shirtless countless times, but it's something about the way the water is still beaded across his chest and how his hair isn't its usual perfect self and how the towel swings low in the vee of his hips that just is killing her.

"No," she says quickly.

"I'll never understand why you insist on lying to werewolves," Peter says.

"Put clothes on, you maniac," Stiles say. "Your pad Thai is getting cold."

Peter rolls his eyes but walks out, emerging a few minutes later in sweat pants and a v-neck. He doesn't bother with shoes and for some reason, him barefoot and looking soft and relaxed tugs at something in her.

They eat in his room against his headboard (as far as she knows, she's the only one allowed in there) and watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, both of their favorite and something Peter would never do with the pack. Stiles ends up curled against Peter's side, as she sometimes does. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her closer, as he sometimes does. His thumb rubs back and forth across the skin of her hip where her shirt's ridden up, and that's new. So is the way he eventually slides his whole hand under the hem of her t-shirt and settles on her hip. He doesn't move his hand up, just rests it against her skin, his palm radiating warmth. When she doesn't pull away, he goes back to smoothing his thumb over her skin. Stiles snuggles in closer to him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She feels his cheek rest on the top of her head for just a second before he tilts his head back to the screen. She's suddenly hyperaware of his body touching hers. Her mind is pulled back to him in nothing but a towel and somehow this seems more vulnerable for him. And she wants.

She tries to rein it in, it would be entirely too embarrassing if he smelled it on her, but she doesn't quite manage. Peter doesn't call her out on it though, just continues his thumb's gentle movements as if he's completely oblivious to what he's doing to her. Stiles stretches at some point, because as wonderful of a position as she's in, she's still getting a little stiff, and the movement causes her shirt to ride up higher than she'd intended. Before she can tug it back down, Peter's breath catches and his hand tightens on her. She stills against him, her heart beating very fast. The hand on her waist moves, tracing up her skin slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wants to. She doesn't. His large hand smooths up her stomach until it's resting right against her bra line, his fingers tracing the edge of the wire. His free hand tilts her head back until she's leaning on his shoulder, looking up at him and exposing the long line of her neck. He brushes his fingers down her throat, his eyes icy blue.

"Yes or no?" he asks her and she gets a little thrill at the deep tone of his voice.

"Yes," she says immediately.

Then he's leaning down and kissing her. He kisses like he knows how, like he wants to devour her. She's been kissed before, but not like this. Peter makes them look like fumbling boys. This is passion and intensity that she's never had and never knew what she was missing. She gasps into his mouth when his fingers wiggle under her bra, pushing it up her chest and out of the way. His mouth never falters on hers and he caresses the curve of her breast, brushing his finger tips over the soft skin. When he drags a thumb over her nipple, she actually whines into his mouth and she can feel his smile against her lips.

"Oh?" he asks and does it again, bringing another gasp from her.

Stiles' nipples have always been sensitive and she always comes a hundred times faster if she's playing with them while she rubs her clit and now Peter's discovered them. He rolls so that Stiles is on her back beneath him and slowly pulls her shirt over her head, the bra soon following. He gives her a mischievous look before lowering his head and flicking his tongue over her exposed nipple. Stiles tries to bite back the gasp, but it turns into a full moan when Peter sucks the entire nub into his mouth, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and nibbling at it. She arches into his touch when his hand finds her other breast, tweaking its nipple and tugging and it in a way that makes Stiles cry out.

"Peter," she groans.

He just hums and wow, that feels good, and continues, happily laving at her breasts as if he has nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. Stiles squirms, starting to feel warmth gather between her legs and Peter somehow just knows and slots a thigh between hers, giving her something to grind on. She shamelessly does, rubbing against his thigh with just her shorts and his pants between them.

"That's it, take what you need," he murmurs before going back to her chest.

Peter tugs and nips at her nipples, abusing the sensitive flesh in the ways that Stiles loves, knowing exactly how hard she can take and exactly what pressure she wants, reading her body in a way no one else has. Right when it's just this side of too much, he switches sides, sucking the other nipple into his mouth and giving the same treatment while gently rolling the other red and swollen bud between his thumb and forefinger. Stiles' breath is coming fast, her chest heaving as she grinds down against Peter's thigh. She bucks when he nibbles surprisingly hard and brushes his erection with her thigh. He groans against her breast and she does it again deliberately, savoring the way he's starting to pant against her skin, knowing that she's affecting him like he is her.

"If you keep that up, I'm going to finish embarrassingly quickly," Peter admits, pulling away to kiss her soundly.

Before she can ask what else he has in mind, he's sliding down her body, hands trailing down her torso until they reach her shorts. He looks at her in question and she quickly nods her permission. He wastes no time in pulling her shorts down over her legs, her panties quickly following. She blushes a bit at how wet they are, but Peter doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, he parts her thighs with gentle hands and ducks between them, seeming to just breathe her in for a few moments.

"Peter?" she asks.

He doesn't answer, at least not verbally. Instead he flicks his tongue out, gently running up her labia. Stiles' breath catches and he does it again, drawing out her wetness before pointing his tongue and dragging it through her folds up to her clit. She cries out and wraps a hand in Peter's hair, unsure if he's going to allow her to touch. He doesn't seem to care, just flicks his tongue against her hard clit before gently brushing it with his teeth. He eats her out like he kissed her, full of passion and skill. He moans into her cunt as he licks and nips at her, and that itself, that he's so obviously enjoying himself, is bringing her even closer to the edge. Boys have gone down on her before, they've even said they liked it, but nothing like this. This isn't him trying to conquer her, as others have. This is him trying to coax out every bit of pleasure he can from her. He's drawing out noises she didn't know she makes and building that beautiful pressure between her legs.

"I'm close, Peter..." she gasps.

Peter closes his lips around her clit and sucks, slipping a finger into her and crooking it up, searching for her g-spot. She screams when he finds it, her orgasm slamming through her in waves as he eases her through it and through the aftershocks, pleasure coursing through her body until it's too much and he pulls away. She tugs at his arm until he's close enough that she can kiss him, chasing the taste of herself in his mouth. She reaches between them and grasps him where he's hard against her hip.

"I want you in me," she says.

Peter curses under his breath and pulls down his pants, and of course he doesn't wear underwear, and lets her tug off his shirt. His body is beautiful, and though she'd already known this, this is the first time she's been able to stare her fill and trace the strong planes of his chest and the muscles of his abdomen. Her eyes widen at the sight of his cock, average in length but thicker than what she's had and she wants it so badly. Before she can tell him, he's slipping two fingers inside of her, stretching her slowly before adding a third. By the time he deems her ready, she's rolling her hips up against his hand, trying to get more of him into her. Peter rolls away for a second and fiddles with his nightstand before coming back with a condom on.

Peter kneels between her legs and drags them over his thighs, opening her up for him to see. Stiles feels like she should be self conscious, but she can see his hungry gaze and feels nothing but arousal and pride that she put that look on his face. He looks at her again, seeking her permission, and she nods. Ever so slowly, he parts her labia and nudges his cock to her opening, sliding into the wet heat of her body easily. Stiles groans when he's fully seated. He prepped her well, she's not in pain, but it is a stretch, much more than she's had inside her before.

"God," she gasps.

"Do you need me to stop?" Peter asks, voice tight, like he's trying to control himself.

"Don't you dare," Stiles says. She rolls her hips up, getting him even deeper and earning her a hiss. "Come on, fuck me Peter."

He does. Grabbing her waist in his large hands, he starts slowly, making sure he isn't hurting her, but she urges him on with bitten off curses and whimpers of his name. She begs him to fuck her harder, rolls into his thrusts to get him as deep as she can. She screams and desperately clutches at his arms when he puts one of her legs over his shoulder and pounds into her. With each thrust he makes sure to grind his pelvis against her clit and soon she can feel her orgasm building again. She's tightening around him, trying to hold off, but he slips a hand between them and rubs gentle circles over her clit, and it's all over. She muffles her scream in his neck and comes on his cock, her inner muscles clenching around his as he fucks her through it.

"Come on, Peter," she pants. "Want you to come."

Peter groans and stills and Stiles can feel him pulse inside her, filling the condom with him cum. He pulls out slowly, almost regretfully, and makes sure to tie off the condom and toss it away before collapsing next to her. Stiles headbutts his shoulder and he snorts, pulling her closer until she's sprawled on his chest.

"That was new," she says after a few minutes spent catching their breath.

"Quite," Peter says, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "An enjoyable way to spend an evening though?"

"Quite," Stiles says and Peter rolls his eyes. Stiles sighs and pulls herself up. "I should go."

"You're more than welcome to stay," Peter says.

"Thanks, but I don't want to deal with what would happen if Scott or Derek found me in your bed," she says dryly.

"Hm, yes the alpha and my nephew sure do have a soft spot when it comes to you," Peter says.

"Scott, maybe, not Derek. They're just very anti-Peter at times," Stiles says.

Peter sighs dramatically. "The hardships of being a formal serial killer," he says.

Stiles snorts. "Yeah, you poor thing."

"Drive safely, darling" he says when she's dressed and ready to leave.

"Sure thing," she says, though it kills her to leave Peter lying naked and rumpled in his bed. She stops and exhales harshly when she's in her jeep and has to take a few deep breaths. It's going to be fine, she tells herself. It's Peter, Peter won't use this against her. Peter's her friend and this won't change that. She nods decisively and heads home, texting him when she gets home as she normally does, and she gets the usual Sleep well back from him. See, nothing would change.

Okay, so she wishes some things would change. She and Peter still snark back and forth, still tend to take the other's side at pack meetings, and still spend time together, but they don't have sex again, much to Stiles' disappointment. She doesn't bring up their night together, and neither does he. She can't tell if it's because he regrets it, or because he's waiting for her to bring it up first. Or maybe he just doesn't want to. He doesn't strike Stiles as the type of man who lives with many regrets though, so she's comfortable in at least knowing that she isn't one of them. If he didn't want to be around her, he wouldn't. If he wanted to sleep with her again, he would. So they stay friends and never really bring it up again. That simple.

Until it isn't.

Two months later, Stiles is in her bathroom, sitting on the tub and staring at the little pink lines. She'd had a feeling this is what's been going on. Why she'd been nauseated for the past few weeks, why her breasts were suddenly aching, why she had an obscene craving for pizza and jelly. Pregnant. Pregnant. Eighteen years old, about to go off to college, and knocked up. Fuck. FUCK. She wraps the test in toilet paper and puts it in the bottom of the trash can in case her dad uses her bathroom for some reason and sees it. She moves to her room and lies on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She ignores the first time her phone buzzes, and the second, but on the third she considers that someone might be dying and checks it. They're all texts for Scott asking if she's coming to the pack meeting, and why isn't she answering? Stiles rolls her eyes and sends back that she isn't feeling good and will come to the next one, then tosses her phone away and goes back to staring at the ceiling.

"Okay, what would Lydia do?" Stiles says out loud. "Logic it out. Okay, options. Abortion, maybe. Adoption. Could I carry a kid for nine months and give it up? Probably not. Keeping it? Maybe."

Awesome, so she'd settled on not giving up the baby for adoption, big fucking help. Abortion or baby, abortion or baby. She's super pro-choice, the most pro-choice person she knows, but she doesn't know if that means that abortion is something she wants for herself. She spends the night thinking about it, about how she always has wanted kids, even though most people assume she's too childish to want them (fuck you very much). She thinks about how the baby has a good chance of being a werewolf, of being a Hale. She thinks about all the aunts and uncles her baby would have, how much he or she would be doted on and cared for. She thinks about how much she could love it. And at some point, she stops thinking in terms of she could, and starts thinking in terms of she will.

Stiles needs to talk to Peter about it. She knows she does. He has a choice in this too. Whether to be a father or not. This is where Stiles gets stuck. What if Peter doesn't want a child? He lost his whole family in the fire, would he feel too much like Stiles is trying to replace them? Would he be mad? Would he even believe her? They used a condom, but Stiles isn't an idiot and knows that they don't have a 100% success rate and yeah, she's kind of bad at remembering to take her birth control on time.

She dithers back and forth on her decision for a week and a half. She knows she'll have to talk to him, she just doesn't know how. There aren't any supernatural threats at the moment since the gnomes were run out of town (seriously, what the fuck) so it's easier to avoid him and the pack house. Usually she's over nearly everyday after school either doing homework or making dinner or just lazing around there instead of at home. She feigns illness for a few days until Scott points out she didn't smell like sickness. Then she says she's got a lot of research to do and is tired, both of which are true. It's hard to get anything done when you're throwing up every couple of hours. (Is morning sickness supposed to be this early? She'll have to look into it because if so, this fucking sucks.) She answers Peter's texts, but not at all with the usual enthusiasm and she can tell her knows something is going on, but is waiting for her instead of calling her out on her odd behavior. God, she appreciates that, unlike how everyone else, even Derek, keeps bugging her.

Scott sends out a mass text that they're going for a run that night and everyone answers that they're in. Except for Peter, of course, meaning that he would be at the house alone. Stiles declines Scott's offer, then shoots a text to Peter.

I'm coming over to the house tonight

He answers her in less than a minute.

I'll be here.

She nervous the whole drive over. She has to stop to throw up once, which isn't fun. Why call it morning sickness when it's really all-the-damn-time sickness? Thankfully she has mints so she at least won't assault Peter's senses with the smell of vomit. It takes ten minutes for her to work up the nerve to leave her parked car and walk into the Hale house. Peter gracefully doesn't call her out on it. He's merely reading on the couch when she comes in. He stands when he sees her though, stopped in the living room entryway and wringing her hands, giving her his full attention in the way he does to so few.

"You've been avoiding me," Peter says. Stiles just shrugs. "Are you going to tell me why, or do I have to guess?" Stiles would love to glare at him and snark back like they always do, but her nerves are just too frayed and she doesn't have it in her. Peter seems to sense this and frowns, his face morphing into one of concern. "Stiles..?"

He takes a few steps closer, slowly as if he's trying not to startle her and that makes her want to let out a hysterical laugh, but she keeps it in. He sets his hand on her shoulder, the other going to the side of her neck. He frowns at the way her pulse is racing, as if he needs to physically confirm what his ears are already telling him. She lets him touch her, knowing without even needing to think about it that he won't hurt her. She does let out a bitter little laugh at that. Well, physically he won't.

"What is it?" he asks and the genuine concern in his voice almost breaks her. He leans down and stares into her eyes, their faces so close, and she sees his nostrils flare. "You smell...different."

Well, that's her cue.

"I'm pregnant," she whispers. Peter stills, but doesn't take his hands from her, and she takes that as a good sign.

"Are you sure?" he asks. His face is blank, back to the pleasant mask he wears when he's hiding how he feels, the mask she realizes she hasn't seen when it's just them for months. She hates that it's back now.

"I'm...I took a test, and it was positive. I have an appointment tomorrow to confirm but I'm pretty sure. I've missed my period, I'm craving the most ridiculous things, and I've been so nauseated. Peter, please say something," Stiles begs. "Are you mad?"

That at least startles him.

"Mad? Of course not, darling," Peter says. He squeezes the back of her neck slightly and she relaxes into the touch. "Why would I be angry?"

"I haven't been with anyone else," she says. "It's definitely yours. Please tell me what you're thinking, you're doing your sociopath face and I can't tell."

"I just don't want to sway your decision with my opinion. I will support whatever you choose to do, Stiles," Peter says and Stiles slumps a bit in relief. "Tell me, what do you want to do? You have options."

"Adoption, abortion, or keeping it," Stiles says, nodding. "I know. I've...I'm keeping it, Peter. I don't know if you want to be involved, but you can be. I want my child to know its father, but if you don't want - "

She doesn't even get to finish her sentence. Peter lets out a harsh and ragged breath and drops to his knees before her and nuzzles against her stomach, a look of such reverence on his face that it makes Stiles ache. Stiles wraps her arms around him, making another breath shudder out of him. It's the most emotion she's ever seen from him, stronger than his lust for revenge on the Argents, stronger than the hate he held, and stronger than the rage.

"I want," he says, voice hoarse. "I want to be there. Every second. I want you to call me at 3:00 in the morning when you're craving fried chicken and ice cream. I want to be at all your appointments. I want our child with us. I want you both, please."

"Thank god. I want you to be there, I swear, I do. I'm just...Peter, I'm so scared," she says, well, she nearly sobs.

And then Stiles is sliding to her knees in front of him, tears gathered in her eyes. He pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly and running a hand over her back in soothing circles. He murmurs quiet reassurances, coaxing her into breathing slower and relaxing against him.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I'll be here. You'll want for nothing. Our child will want for nothing. We're going to love them so much."

"I'm supposed to go to college in a month. And my dad, god, he's going to be so angry at me," she moans. "I can barely afford tuition, I can't do this, I can't afford all the doctors appointments and vitamins and the diapers, fuck, I am so fucked. I want this, but can't do this alone!"

"Hush," Peter says. "You have me, sweet one. I would never make you do this alone. You can still go to college, this doesn't change that. Your father loves you and nothing will change that either. And we both know I can more than afford a few diapers. Come on, look at me." He cradles her face in his hands and forces her wet, red eyes to meet his. "You have taken care of everybody for so long. Let me take care of you."

"Okay," she says softly, then clears her throat. "Okay. Do you - do you want to come to the appointment tomorrow?"

"Of course," Peter says. He stands, bringing her to her feet with him. He wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "You're going to be a fantastic mother."

Maybe it's her hormones, or maybe she's just tired of fighting it, but whatever the reason, she leans in and kisses Peter softly like she's been wanting to do since they had sex. He responds immediately and she so relieved at the lack of hesitance from him.

"Now come, when was the last time you ate?"

"Uh, I managed some toast for breakfast," she says, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

Peter tuts at her. "That was hours ago. Have you been able to keep anything down?"

"Not really," she says. "Toast, uh, I had pancakes the other day. I definitely am not eating tuna again for the foreseeable future."

Peter snorts but takes her by the hand and gently pulls her to the kitchen where he nudges her toward the breakfast bar while he busies himself looking through cupboards.

"You said nausea, anything else?" he asks while he pulls out eggs and veggies.

"Just morning sickness all hours of the day, which sucks, let me tell you," Stiles says, then blushes a bit when she adds, "And my breasts have been aching. Like, my bra hurt when I tried to put it on the morning."

"I'm sorry, sweet one," he says, and he does sound like he means it.

"It'll be worse eventually, might as well enjoy it being minimal now," Stiles says.

"We'll talk to your doctor about morning sickness, see if she has any ideas," Peter says. "Do you have an OB/GYN yet?"

"I go to a women's health center and I think my lady does that," Stiles says. "I mean, I'll find out tomorrow."

"We'll find out tomorrow," Peter says. He sets a perfectly made vegetable omelette in front of her and she has to admit, it smells delicious. She takes a tentative bite, ready for her stomach to rebel, and is relieved when she can eat more. Apparently it's neutral enough not to make her body mad at her for it? Who knows, certainly not her. Peter takes a seat next to her, apparently happy to watch her eat.

"You said I can still go to college," Stiles says between bites. "How?"

"We'll make it work," Peter says. "We'll find out your due date but it's September now, so I'm guessing it'll be late March or April. You can still go to class for a while, then maybe take spring quarter off. You'll have time to recover and get ready for school again in the fall."

Stiles stares at him.

"You make it sound so simple," she says.

"I'm sure it won't be, you'll be growing a person," Peter say with a small smile. "But it's nothing you can't handle."

"What about when it's born? I can't just haul a baby to class," Stiles says.

"Well I would have thought it would be obvious," Peter says. Stiles just raises her eyebrows. "I'm going with you."

Stiles jaw drops and a bit of omelette falls out.

"What?"

"Did you really think I would leave you alone, pregnant, in a new city where you know no one?" Peter asks. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

"Okay, insulting the mother of your child, not the smartest move," Stiles says, waving her fork at him. He grins at her. "What?"

"The mother of my child," Peter repeats and leans over to kiss her forehead. "It's something I like hearing is all."

Stiles blushes and goes back to eating her omelette. She's still not looking forward to telling the pack, or for the love of god, her dad, but she feels better knowing that Peter is on her side. It seems silly now that she worried about him doing anything else besides help her. Everything Peter has done, whether it be good or bad, was for his family and his pack. Well, yeah okay some of it was selfish, but Peter will be selfish in caring for their child, she knows he will. She knows this baby is going to be so loved.

Stiles spends the rest of the night at the Hale house. The pack comes back around 2:00 am and all just crash into a big puppy pile in the living room, as they tend to do after runs. Even Lydia is there in her running shoes and leggings. Peter rarely joins in, but he does tonight. If anyone notices how he sleeps plastered to Stiles' back, they're too damn tired to say anything about it. Stiles falls asleep surrounded by people she knows love her, with Peter at her back, ready to give her everything.

They get up early, long before the rest of the pack, to go to the appointment. Peter manages to get Stiles to eat scrambled eggs before they leave. Stiles is nervous, leg bouncing the entire car ride. She lets Peter drive, totally fine with sitting in his pretentious and comfy Mercedes. He places a hand on her thigh and squeezes lightly.

"Sorry," she says. "Nervous."

"Don't be sorry," Peter says, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be nervous."

"I just feel so...unprepared," Stiles says.

"Well that's what they're here for, the help prepare you," Peter says.

She's truly grateful for him being there, especially when they get a rather judgey look from the receptionist.

"Yes, Judy?" Stiles snaps.

Judy looks away. Peter chuckles and kisses Stiles hand.

Stiles is relieved when they get called back. They don't have her undress, thankfully, so she and Peter sit patiently until Dr. Warrick comes in and when she does, she doesn't even blink at the age difference. Stiles loves Dr. Warrick. She's mid-thirties with a cute bob of black hair and a welcoming smile. And she keeps up with Stiles wit for wit. She reaches forward and shakes Stiles' hand.

"Hello again Stiles, nice to see you," she says.

"You, too," Stiles says and can feel herself relaxing already. "This is Peter, my, uh, he's - the father," Stiles finishes, wincing lamely in apology.

Peter does't seem to mind, just shakes Dr. Warrick's hand and says, "Peter Hale. Pleased to meet you."

"You, too, Mr. Hale."

"Peter, please."

"Well Stiles, it looks like we're here confirming your pregnancy, correct?"

Dr. Warrick asks Stiles a bunch of questions, from her symptoms to when she had her last period. It turns out Dr. Warrick does obstetric care as well as gynecology, so she doesn't have to find a new doctor. Dr. Warrick smiles at her visible relief. "Now I have to ask, were you practicing safe sex?"

"Yes!" Stiles says. "Okay, I'm bad about taking my birth control on time, but we used a condom, too!"

"I believe you, Stiles," Dr. Warrick says. "It does happen, you're not the first to fall pregnant from a condom failure."

"Condom failure," Stiles says to Peter, who just rolls his eyes fondly.

"Okay, we're going to do a quick ultrasound and see what we see," Dr. Warrick says. "I'm going to have you lie back and pull your shirt up a bit, yep that's perfect. This gel is a little cold, sorry."

Peter stands at Stiles' side, taking her shaking hand in his. She winces at the first touch of the cold gel.

"There we are," Dr. Warrick says. "You look to be about 10 weeks along, does that sound about right?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, staring at the little screen Dr. Warrick shows them.

"That right there," she says, pointing to something like looks like a peanut, "is the fetus."

"Whoa," Stiles says, her grip on Peter's hand tightening. Peter lets out a harsh breath and leans down to kiss Stiles' temple.

"Would you like me to print out a few copies for you?" she asks.

"Yes, please," Peter says.

"Okay," Dr. Warrick says, then frowns a bit and Stiles' heart beats a little faster. "Hmm. Stiles, does your family have a history of ovarian cysts?"

"I don't know, my mom died before we had any kind of talk like that," Stiles says. "Why, what's wrong?"

"I'm seeing a couple cysts, here and here," she says, pointing to two spots on the screen. "They should be fine, just something we'll keep an eye on. I'd like to do a pelvic swab just to be safe though, is that okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles says faintly.

Peter steps out for the pelvic exam, though Stiles kind of wishes she had asked him to stay. It's quick and painless and Dr. Warrick tells her she'll get the results in a few days.

"Try not to stress, Stiles," Dr. Warrick says when Peter comes back. "Ovarian cysts are very common and most of the time have no effect on a pregnancy at all."

Dr. Warrick gives them a list of books to read and vitamins for Stiles when they leave and sets up a follow up appointment. Stiles nods dutifully while Peter copies all the information down.

"Ovarian cysts!" Stiles hisses when they get to the door. "I can't even get knocked up right, I have to be broken, too. Fuck."

"Stiles," Peter says firmly. "Her heartbeat was steady when she said it was most likely fine."

"Most likely! I'm a worrier, Peter! I worry about the worst case scenario, that's kind of my thing!"

"This is your new thing," Peter says, handing her the pictures of the ultrasound. She goes quiet. "And worrying is just going to make this harder for you. We'll wait until we hear back from her about the swab, then we'll worry, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles says, eyes still on the picture. Peter kisses her temple again before starting the car.

Their next stop is Deaton's, though neither of them are particularly pleased about it. But they both know they need to as neither of them know much about werewolf-related pregnancies.

"Talia gave birth at home, but I don't know if that was personal preference or because she was a werewolf," Peter admits, like it pains him not to know something.

"Is Deaton going to be a dick about it?" Stiles asks.

"It's Deaton," Peter says. "I'll...encourage him to be forthcoming if he isn't."

Stiles snorts.

"You just want an excuse to threaten Deaton," she says.

"Possibly."

Deaton doesn't look surprised to see them, but Deaton never looks much of anything, so it's not really saying much. He does make them wait while he tends to an ill corgi, which Stiles can tell makes Peter bristle a bit. She rests her hand on top of his where it's lying on his thigh and he immediately turns his hand to take hers. When Deaton calls them back, he does raise an eyebrow at that.

"We have something to discuss with you that requires a certain amount of discretion," Peter says when they're in the examination room.

"By all means," Deaton says.

"What do I need to know about werewolf pregnancies?" Stiles asks.

Deaton's eyes widen a fraction at that and Stiles feels a vicious stab of pleasure that she's finally gotten a reaction out of him.

"Am I to assume that it's a werewolf father and a human mother?" Deaton asks mildly.

"Yes," Peter says.

Deaton hums, then says, "I won't pretend to be an expert, but as far as I know, the pregnancy cycle should be identical. Sometimes human mothers give birth a bit late, but I don't have a large sample of data to back that up."

"Can I give birth in a hospital? Or will it come out all furry and fanged?" Stiles asks. Peter snorts beside her.

"No werewolf traits will emerge until well after birth, so a regular hospital will be fine if that's the route you choose to go," Deaton says.

"Anything else?" Stiles asks.

"Not that I can think of, just follow your doctor's orders," Deaton says. Stiles nods, thanks him, and turns to leave when he says, "And Stiles. Congratulations."

Stiles smiles faintly at him, wondering where in her life she went wrong that Deaton of all people was the first to congratulate her and Peter.

Peter drives her back to the Hale house so she can get her jeep. She needs to tell her dad today or she'll just be a chicken shit and put it off. It's his day off and the least she can do is tell him in person and let him have time to soak it in before he has to go to work.

"Do you want me there?" Peter asks.

"Yes," Stiles says. "But it's probably better if you aren't. I'd rather him not try to punch you in the face."

"It would heal," Peter says.

"His hand wouldn't for a while," Stiles points out. "Can I - can I stay here tonight if he's too mad?"

"Of course," Peter says. He pulls her to him and presses a light kiss to her lips. "You're always welcome here."

Stiles sighs and lets Peter scent her. She knows she's welcome, but it still feels good to know that Peter would be happy with her there.

Stiles' dad is watching football with a beer when she comes home. She stands in the doorway to the living room for a minute, shifting from foot to foot anxiously before he notices her.

"Hey kiddo," the sheriff says.

"Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second?" Stiles asks.

"Sure," her dad says and turns off the TV, looking at her in concern.

"It's uh, wow this sucks," Stiles says. "I need to tell you something."

"As long as it isn't you're pregnant," her dad jokes, trying to ease the tension. Stiles flinches hard and her dad's eyes widen. "Wait, you're not..."

"Surprise," Stiles says monotonously.

"Christ Stiles, tell me this is a joke," her dad says.

"Not a joke," she says.

The sheriff runs a hand over his face and exhales sharply. Stiles fidgets, waiting for the yelling to start.

"You didn't use a condom?"

"We did! Haven't you seen Friends? They don't always work," Stiles says. Her father levels a very unimpressed look at her.

"Who?"

"Who what?"

"Don't play dumb with me kid," he says. "Who's the father? Scott?"

"God no!" Stiles says. "You, uh, you're not going to like this?"

"Not Derek?" her father says.

"You like Derek!" she protests. "But no, it's Peter."

"Peter. Peter HALE. Peter Hale who is in his thirties? That Peter Hale?" her dad says dangerously.

"Yeah," Stiles says quietly.

"Damn it, Stiles, you're smarter than this!" Stiles flinches back and her dad immediately looks sorry. "What are you going to do? You had a future."

"I still have a future," she says, annoyed. "I'm still going to college. Peter's going to help."

"You can get rid of it," her father points out.

"But I'm not going to," Stiles says firmly. "I want this, Dad. Yeah it's bad timing and I wish it could be later, but what's done is done."

The sheriff sighs but pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry kid, I just wasn't expecting that," he says. "I'd ground you, but it wouldn't do any good."

"It wouldn't," Stiles says into her dad's shoulder.

"You know I'm here too, right?" he asks.

"I know," she says. But it feels good to hear it anyway.

Stiles texts Peter later that night to let him know she told her dad.

From: Peter Hale
How did it go? Do you need me to come get you?

Stiles smiles slightly.

To: Peter Hale
No. It could've gone worse. He's not happy with me, and he's REALLY not happy with you. So expect a lot of speeding tickets in the future

From: Peter Hale
A small price to pay. Are you okay?

To: Peter Hale
I'm fine. Just tired. Nervous to tell the pack.

From: Peter Hale
Tomorrow?

To: Peter Hale
Yeah, probably should.

Stiles groans and rolls over, sticking her face in her pillow. She isn't looking forward to that.

The sheriff hovers for the entire morning the next day, pestering her about if she's eaten, if she's made appointments, if she needs anything.

"Yes, yes, no," she says. "I'm fine, go to work."

He does, reluctantly, and Stiles leaves for the Hale house. Everyone's going to be gathered there today for a pack day and Stiles figures it's as good of a time as any to drop the baby bombshell. Of everyone's reactions, she's nervous about Scott and Derek's the most, not sure if they'll try to attack Peter or not. She knows he can defend himself, but she isn't happy about the idea of fixing even more property damage, especially since the house just got rebuilt.

They pack is scattered throughout the living room, Jackson and Lydia standing and talking by the couch where Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are sitting. Kira and Allison seem to be in a lively conversation about knives, and Derek and Scott are laying out snacks. Stiles looks around for Peter and relaxes when she seems him coming in from the kitchen with a bottle of water and a granola bar. He hands them both to her and she rolls her eyes, but smiles slightly as she puts the bar in her pocket and takes a drag of the bottle. The rest of the pack had had the opposite reaction when Peter had walked in, most tensing a bit. Not a good sign.

"Hey, before we start a movie marathon, can I talk to you guys for a second?" Stiles asks.

Conversation ceases and they all look at her.

"Sure," Scott says, confused. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just needed to tell you all that I'm pregnant," she says quickly. Like ripping off a bandaid.

They all stare at her, jaws dropped.

"Is that good?" Kira asks tentatively. "I mean, are you happy about it?"

"I'm completely terrified, but yeah...yeah I am," Stiles says with a smile.

Kira squeals and runs up and hugs her tightly and god, Stiles loves Kira.

"Congratulations then! I am so happy for you!" she says.

Allison, Erica, and Lydia are up next, talking baby showers and hugging her. Even Isaac gives her a hug and Boyd claps a hand on her shoulder. Scott doesn't move though, staring at her dumbstruck. That's making Stiles nervous. Derek is frowning at her in confusion.

"I didn't think you were seeing anyone," Derek says.

"I wasn't," she admits. "It just kind of happened."

"Whose is it?" Scott asks.

And here's the part she isn't excited for.

"Uh, don't freak out," Stiles says. "It was 100% consensual and I'm a legal adult, okay?"

"Okay," Scott says slowly.

"It's Peter's."

"WHAT?" Scott yells, looking murderous.

The pack looks on in various states of disbelief, aside from Lydia, Derek, and Kira, who don't look surprised at all.

Scott takes a step forward, and Stiles puts herself between him and Peter.

"Stiles," Scott says warningly.

"No," Stiles says firmly. "Scott McCall you listen to me. I am happy about this. Peter and I are going to work this out. It's going to be okay."

"How is it okay? He's a murderer!"

"Reformed murderer," Peter says. Stiles stomps on his foot.

"You guys didn't seem shocked it's Peter's," Scott says accusingly to Derek, Lydia, and Kira.

Kira shrugs.

"Peter's different around her," she says simply. Lydia and Derek nod.

"You can't trust him!" Scott says. "Especially with a baby!"

"You can say a lot about Peter," Derek says slowly, interrupting Scott's tirade. "But you can never say he doesn't love his family. Scott, he's not going to do anything to hurt his child."

"But, but, he..."

"I need your support in this, Scotty," Stiles says softly. "Do I have it?"

Scott deflates and walks over to pull her into a hug.

"Of course you do," Scott says. She knows he's glaring at Peter over her shoulder.

"Stop it," she says. "I'm happy, don't ruin it."

Scott huffs but pulls away and manages not to look like he wants to kill Peter.

"So Stiles just bends over for anyone now?" Jackson says caustically and Stiles had forgotten he's here, honestly. Two seconds later, Jackson is landing on his ass, hard. To Stiles' shock, it isn't from Peter, who hasn't left her side, but both Lydia and Derek. Lydia had slapped him so hard he'd staggered back only for Derek to kick his legs out from underneath him.

"How dare you?" Lydia hisses.

"You will never, ever say anything like that again, do you understand me?" Derek says, voice low and dangerous.

"Thanks, guys," Stiles says, a bit stunned.

Derek looks over at her with naked hope on his face and Stiles realizes what this is for him. This is family, something he has precious little of, coming into the world.

"You're going to have a cousin," Stiles says softly to him.

Derek crosses the room in big strides and pulls her into a tight hug, burying his face in her neck. He doesn't scrunch up his nose at the scent of Peter on her like Scott had, and she's grateful.

"Anything you need," he promises. "Anything."

"I know," she says.

"From any of us," Lydia says.

Stiles blinks back tears. She knew the pack would be supportive but it still hits her just how much of a family she has in them. Except maybe Jackson. Fuck Jackson.

Stiles curls up next to Peter on the couch for the movie with Lydia on her other side. Lydia isn't paying a bit of attention to what's playing, but is on her tablet and Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that's she's shopping for baby stuff. Stiles falls asleep a bit into the second movie, the exhaustion and stress finally taking over and she lets herself drift off, content with Peter's arm wrapped around her.

Stiles wakes when Peter has to extract himself from her side. She blinks up at him blearily and he looks down at her apologetically.

"Cora," he says, showing her his phone.

"Go," she says, shooing him. He kisses her forehead before leaving the room. Which is when she realizes that pack is staring at her instead of the movie. "What?"

"He's really different with you," Erica says. "That's all."

"He's softer," Allison says.

"He's...like he was before," Derek says. "He was always cunning and ruthless, but he was different with us."

"Stiles," Scott says, kneeling in front of her. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I'm sure, Scotty," she says.

Scott takes a deep breath. "You'll have my support, 100%. I don't like Peter, but I won't try to stop you or anything," he says.

Stiles takes it, knowing it's the best she'll get, and bends down to hug her friend. Scott hugs her back and she feels something in her loosen.

Peter comes back a few minutes later and takes his seat again by Stiles.

"That was Cora," he says to her. "She says congratulations and wants to know if she can visit." He addresses the last to Scott, a show of deferment to the alpha that he usually avoids. He's trying to be civil, for Stiles' benefit, she knows, and she's grateful.

"Of course," Scott says, looking a little surprised to be asked. "She's always welcome here."

The pack watches another movie before some of the wolves get antsy and decide to spar outside for a bit before it gets dark. Allison and Kira join, both girls teaching each other their own forms of fighting. Lydia, however, stays with Peter and Stiles.

"You're not going to threaten him, are you?" Stiles asks.

"Of course not," Lydia says. "He doesn't need it and even if he did, he knows perfectly well what I'd do."

Peter nods in amused acquiescence

"Okay," Stiles says. "Well, thanks?"

"You're due in April, I'm assuming?" she asks.

"Uh yeah?" Stiles says. "April 1st."

Lydia nods and makes a note on her tablet.

"And will you be giving birth here or in Palo Alto?" Lydia asks. At Stiles' surprised look, she says, "Please, we both know you'll still be going to college."

"My doctor is here, so, Beacon Hills Memorial I guess," Stiles says.

"Okay," Lydia says. "And your doctor is?"

"Dr. Warrick with the Beacon Women's Health - why?" Stiles asks.

"And Peter, you'll be going to Stanford with her, I assume?" Lydia asks.

"Yes."

"Do you have a place yet?"

"I put an application in for an apartment last night. I have no doubt it'll go through," Peter says.

"You did?" Stiles asks.

"I was going to show you later," Peter says.

"And will Stiles be living with you or at the dorms?" Lydia asks.

"We haven't discussed it yet," Peter says.

"All right. I'm thinking March 26th for the baby shower, that gives you a bit of wiggle room in case the baby comes early. The Beacon Gardens is beautiful that time of year, I'll put a deposit down to reserve it," Lydia says.

"Lydia, you don't have to - "

"Don't be silly," Lydia says. She rests her hand on Stiles' and gives her a small smile. "I want to do this for you. Let me?"

"Okay," Stiles says.

"Excellent," Lydia says. "Okay, next question..."

Lydia grills Stiles and Peter for a bit longer before Stiles stomach rumbles and she realizes she actually hungry and not nauseated. Peter seems to have the same thought and gets up to make her food. She tells him she can cook for herself, and he tells her he knows she can, he wants to do it. Lydia is giving her a knowing smile when Peter leaves the room.

"What?" Stiles asks.

"It took me a long time to be in the same room with him after what he did to me," Lydia says and Stiles flinches. "But I can see he's going to be good to you both."

"I'm sorry," Stiles says. "I didn't think about how you must feel..."

"This isn't about me," Lydia says, waving away her concerns. "This is about you and your baby. Now, let me see that ultrasound picture."

Stiles grins and pulls out one of the print outs from her pocket. Lydia smiles and tilts her head to the side to look closer.

"The cysts look benign," Lydia says and of course she would notice that.

"That's what my doctor says, but I'm waiting to hear back from the pap," Stiles says.

"I'm sure it's fine, Stiles. You're going to have a healthy baby and be a wonderful parent." Lydia says.

Stiles stays with Peter that night, not feeling like going back to her empty house. She was planning on looking over the apartments near Stanford Peter had been looking at, but even though she'd napped earlier, she's just exhausted. Peter lends her a shirt to sleep in, and the sight of her in nothing but panties and his v-neck makes his eyes flash blue. Stiles smirks.

"Brat," Peter says.

"Oh absolutely," Stiles says.

Peter turns off the light once Stiles is settled in his bed and then crawls under the blankets. He immediately pulls her to him. He snakes his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her still-flat belly. Stiles cuddles back against him, his breath tickling the hair at the nape of her neck.

"Are you feeling better now that everyone knows?" he asks, voice quiet.

"Yeah," Stiles says, voice equally low. "I thought Scott was going to react a lot worse, to be honest."

"I did, too," Peter admits. "He loves you, though. And say what you will about Scott, but he won't abandon you, not over this."

"I know," Stiles says. "It's just good to hear."

Peter hums and kisses the back of her neck. She falls asleep like that, wrapped up in him with his lips on her skin.

Dr. Warrick calls the next day while Stiles is looking at the apartment complex's website. The floor plans are huge, the pictures beautiful and luxurious. The one Peter had been looking at is in the top of the tall building and has a modern look with a huge deck that overlooks the water. It's close enough that Stiles could probably walk or bus it to school, though she has an inkling that Peter will insist on driving her. The website says 'Please contact for price' and that doesn't look good. Peter waves off her concern.

"I can afford it," he says. "It's a secure building in a nice neighborhood, something I'll gladly pay for."

"Do you want me to live with you?" Stiles asks, Lydia's question from the night before ringing in her head. "Or do you want me to stay in dorms?"

"Which would you prefer?" Peter asks.

She's sitting at the breakfast bar, watching Peter cook for her again. She has a feeling this is going to be a pattern.

"That's not an answer," Stiles says. "I don't want you to do something just because it's what I want."

"And that's exactly my thought process as well," Peter says. "All right. I would prefer you with me where I can make sure you're safe and taken care of, but I won't be upset if you want to stay in the dorms with other students your own age."

"You wouldn't get irritated sharing your space?" Stiles asks. "I'm not always a walk in the park to be around."

"Stiles. You're one of the few people whose company I actually enjoy," Peter says, turning to her. "You being there will be the opposite of a burden."

Stiles grins.

"Well, the dorms were more for convenience than anything else, and less sketchy than any of the apartments I could afford on my own," Stiles says. "I mean, my dad won't be thrilled, but what can I do, get more pregnant?"

Peter snorts and goes back to flipping pancakes.

Dr. Warrick calls when they're halfway through breakfast and Stiles nearly gives Peter a heart attack by choking on her bite of pancake when her phone rings in her pocket. She shrugs in apology and answers the phone.

"Hello, Stiles, this is Dr. Warrick. How are you feeling?"

"Better, the ginger helped with the nausea a lot," Stiles says.

"I'm glad to hear it! We got your pap results back and everything is normal. We'll monitor the cysts to make sure they don't change, but you're perfectly healthy," Dr. Warrick says.

Stiles sighs in relief. Peter clasps the back of her neck gently and she leans into the touch.

"Good, excellent, thank you," Stiles says.

"I'll see you at your next appointment," Dr. Warrick says.

Stiles thanks her again and hangs up. Before she knows what's happening, Peter is swinging her into his arms, her toes barely touching the floor, and hugging her tightly.

"You're okay," he mumbles into her neck, like he's reassuring her as much as himself. "You're fine."

It hadn't really occurred to her that Peter might be worried. He's usually so much more logical where she is the one prone to being emotional, and he'd seemed positive that she would be fine so to have this, to have her holding her so tightly over such a small thing, throws her.

"I'm fine, Peter," she says, still bewildered, and rubs his back. "We're both okay."

Peter sets her back on her feet and takes her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay?" he says. Stiles nods. "The two of you are the most important things in my life. I need you both safe, happy, and healthy. I can keep you safe from outside threats, I can provide sustenance, I can do everything in my power to keep you happy. But cysts or illness? That isn't something I could have protected you from. And that's terrifying."

Peter's looking at her completely earnestly and it's more than Stiles could have even imagined from him. She doesn't know how she went from prey, to reluctant ally, to friend, to the most important thing in his life. She doesn't know if it's because of her, or because she's carrying his child. She also doesn't bother telling him that he doesn't need to protect her because A. it wouldn't do any good, and B. she's going to be very pregnant in a few months and a werewolf bodyguard, considering the lives they lead, isn't the worst thing in the world. In the end she just nods her acceptance.

"We're fine, Peter," Stiles says. "You heard Dr. Warrick, everything's fine."

Stiles hears one of the bedroom doors open and Peter visibly pulls himself together, pulling back a bit and looking a bit surprised at his own outburst.

"Eat your pancakes," he says gently, sitting back down across from her.

She does, a small smile on her face.

The final weeks of summer go by relatively normally. She spends time with the pack and with her dad, the only thing different is she spends more time with Peter. They don't have sex again, and she isn't sure why. Peter seems content to just be near her, even though she can feel him hard against her ass when she wakes up most mornings. She doesn't have the courage to do anything about it though, not without being sure what he wants. She spends most nights at the Hale house, held like a teddy bear by Peter. Her dad gives up trying to forbid it when she points out that the worst has happened, she can't get more knocked up. She still stays home when her dad has a day off or a normal schedule so she can see him, but those are rare so it's not like she's missing time with him or anything.

Peter gets the apartment he'd put in an application for, not that she'd had any doubts he would, but it's surreal to her to think about how she's eighteen, going to college, will be living in a luxury building with Peter Hale, who is a man in his thirties and is also her baby daddy. It really hits her when she's packing a few days before the move. She has most of her stuff packed up that she'll be taking, which isn't much. She's leaving her twin bed. She doesn't tell her dad that she'll be sharing a room with Peter, and he doesn't ask, probably to save himself from the answer. Her dad walks by her open door and knocks, seeing her sitting on her bed and looking around her room.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asks.

"Yeah. It's just weird, you know? All of high school we're working for four years towards graduating. Now I'm about to go and do it all again," she says with a laugh. "Just, you know me. New places and new things get me nervous."

"You can face down feral werewolves and kanimas, but moving makes you nervous?" he says jokingly. "I think everyone's nervous for this. It's a new experience but that doesn't make it bad. We're all here for you, the pack, me, and Peter."

The sheriff almost manages not to make a face at Peter's name. While Stiles appreciates the effort, it still makes her heart sink a little bit each time he grimaces. Her dad had demanded to meet Peter, which Stiles had been expecting, and refused to let her be there, which she threw a bit of a fit about, but her dad had been firm. He'd almost wavered when she'd pulled the pregnancy card, but stayed strong. She didn't know what they'd said to each other, but she's pretty sure her dad had threatened Peter. When she'd asked Peter about it, he said, "Don't worry, sweetheart, everything is fine. He just wants you to be safe." Which is the exact opposite of comforting. But she doesn't press it, deciding to pick her battles.

The sheriff had been planning on driving up to Palo Alto with them, which didn't sound fun to Stiles at all, but no one had asked her opinion, but two of his deputies had gotten into a bit of a tussle with a man on a domestic violence call and both needed to be on bed rest for a few days. After a short but emotional goodbye, she slides into Peter's Mercedes (she's regretfully decided to leave the jeep at home) and they drive away. He reaches across the console and wraps her hand in his.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says. "It's just weird."

"He'll be able to visit and so will you," Peter says.

"You'll let him come up?" Stiles asks, surprised.

"You think I'd ban you from seeing your father?" Peter asks incredulously.

"Well no, but I figured you wouldn't want someone else in your place, your den or whatever," she says.

"First, it's our apartment, not mine. Second, he's your family. He's welcome whenever he'd like," Peter says and Stiles feels a surge of affection for the man.

The drive isn't long, only a few hours, but Stiles naps anyway. When she wakes up, they're pulling into the building's parking garage and the movers are already there and nearly finished.

"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep," she says.

"It's fine," Peter says. "The furniture delivery people should be here in an hour or so, so we'll have to wait if you want a real nap."

"Furniture delivery? Did you - did you just buy new furniture instead of move what you already have?"

"Of course," Peter says. "We're going to be back at the pack house periodically. Would you rather sleep on the floor when we're there?"

"Well, no, but still!" Stiles says.

Peter rolls his eyes, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It's four hours until the furniture people have set everything and left, and it finally feels like they have space to breathe. Stiles whistles at the view.

"You know, it was hard to notice with all the sweaty guys running around, but that is the ocean! That is water, right there!" she says.

"That is indeed the ocean," Peter says.

Stiles rolls her eyes at him and hits him with one of the pretentious throw pillows that she secretly loves. He whacks her with it right back.

Peter lets up on his healthy food crusade and orders pizza for them that night. They've managed unpack mostly everything. Their closet and dressers are full, the bookshelves are shelved, and the kitchen is immaculate. And Stiles can tell that even Peter is exhausted.

"I never knew that moving sucks so much," Stiles says through a mouthful of cheese pizza.

"You've never moved before?" Peter asks.

"Nah, we've always had our house. My mom loved it and when she died, Dad couldn't sell it," Stiles says. Thinking of her mom doesn't hurt as much as it used to, though it still does. She wishes her mom were here to help her with this, to tell her what it was like when she was expecting, to give her advice. She wishes her mom could have met her grandchild. "I have to pee," she mumbles. Peter doesn't call her out on it, just lets her flee to the bathroom.

Stiles actually does use the bathroom, then splashes some water on her face after she's washed her hands. She turning to wipe her hands off when she notices it. She studies herself from the side and her jaw goes slack. Pulling her baggy shirt tighter around her torso, the bump is really noticeable. How had she not noticed it before?

"Peter!" she calls, all but running into the room.

"What?" Peter asks. He's in the kitchen bagging up the leftover pizza.

"Peter Peter Peter," she says, sliding to a stop on the clean hardwood. He raises his eyebrows when she tugs at his hand. He lets her pull him to her and place it on her stomach, which now has a small but noticeable bump. His eyes go wide in realization and he presses his large hand a little harder against her belly, feeling the slight swell beneath his fingers.

"May I?" he asks, tugging a bit at the hem of her shirt.

Stiles nods wordlessly and Peter rucks up her shirt about halfway, just enough so he can see the expanse of her smooth, pale skin. He runs his hand over her before slowly lowering himself to his knees. He presses a kiss right on top of her bump and leans her forehead against her belly, his lips still on her skin. Stiles drops a hand to rest in his hair, letting him have this moment. When he finally does stand and lets her shirt fall back down, he crowds her against the kitchen wall and kisses her hard, the first time he's kissed her like this since they had sex. His mouth is hot and insistent, his hands framing her face as he kisses her breathless. Stiles presses her body up against his and can feel how hard he is against her thigh. She purposefully rolls her body against his, making him groan into her mouth.

"Come to bed with me?" he asks against her lips.

Stiles nods and the second she does, he's hoisting her up by her thighs and carrying her through the apartment like she weighs nothing at all. She clings to his shoulders but knows that he would never drop her. He lays her on the bed like she's something precious and crawls over her with a look in his eyes that she can't quite decipher. Then he's tugging at her shirt, undressing her slowly, like he wants to memorize each inch of skin. Like he hasn't had her bare in front of him before. Stiles pulls his shirt off too, because it's only fair that she gets to see him also. His hands trail down her body when they're both finally nude, mapping the curves of her body and this is different than last time. Last time had been passion and skill, but this is more. There's passion, but there's also reverence. That's what she sees in his eyes, pure reverence, like Stiles is something beyond precious, like she's something to be cherished. He kisses her again, like he can't get enough.

"So perfect," he breathes against her lips. "So perfect for me."

A large hand dips between her thighs, lightly stroking at her folds. She presses into his touch, urging him on. Peter slips a finger inside of her, checking how tight she is and groans at the wetness he finds. He presses in another and slowly pumps them into her, keeping up a slow rhythm designed to arouse her, but not enough to get her off. She whines into his mouth and he just chuckles.

"Patience, darling. We have time," Peter says.

They do, she realizes. They have all the time they could want. No one can barge in, they don't have to be quiet, and Stiles doesn't have to leave. Emboldened, Stiles pushes Peter by the shoulder until he's lying on his back, looking up at her in surprise. She smirks and grinds down against his cock, her slick folds sliding up and down his shaft as she takes her pleasure from him. Peter reaches up, cupping her breasts in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over the pert nipples. Stiles moans, grinding down harder, loving the drag over her flesh against hers.

"Come here," Peter says, reaching down to tap at her thigh. "Lift."

She does, bracing herself on her knees above him and he slides down further, stopping when his face is right under her cunt. Her breath catches when she realize what he wants.

"You sure? Will you be able to breathe?" she asks.

"Trust me, darling," he says and wraps his hands around her thighs, gently lowering her over his face.

The angle is amazing. Peter dives into her, licking and sucking at her folds, his nose nudging at her clit. She gasps and grips his hand where it's clutching her thigh, trying hard not to rock down into his mouth. She can feel the wetness seeping out of her, drawn out by Peter's ministrations. He licks circles from her clit to her opening and back again, flicking quickly, then switching to long, laving strokes with the flat of his tongue. She starts to lose it when he undulates his tongue against her, pressing harder and pulling her down further to him like he can sense she's close.

"Peter," she whimpers, then gasps his name again when she comes, flooding his mouth with her juices.

Peter gently licks her through her peak, letting her come down slowly and drawing out the pleasure until she slides down his body, straddling his abdominal muscles. His hair is wild and his face wet from her, and she's never seen him look better. He has that self-satisfied smirk that makes her slap his shoulder and laugh before leaning down to kiss him. She doesn't understand people who won't kiss their partner after they've gone down on them. She's always loved it, tasting that bit of herself in someone else's mouth. Peter kisses her back hungrily, like he hasn't already devoured her tonight. Stiles reaches behind her and grasps his hard cock, making him groan into her mouth and it's her turn to grin. She slides back father until she's hovering over his hips and positions his cock at her entrance. He looks at her hungrily as she lowers herself down, taking him into the warm, wet heat of her body.

"Stiles," he sighs, eyes closed as he fills her. She's never heard her name said like that, like a prayer.

Stiles rocks against him, slowly at first, until she's built up a rhythm. As much as she'd love to ride him hard and fast, that's for another time. Tonight has a different feel, one she loves. She lowers herself slowly, wanting them both to feel every inch of him moving in side of her. Over and over she raises her hips and lowers herself onto him, her head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure. His hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips, thumbs brushing over the swell of her belly and that makes her lose her rhythm for a second and her heart stutter. She opens her eyes to see Peter staring up her and the soft look on his face makes her ache. She doesn't know what face she's making, but Peter drinks it in, drinks all of her in, like she's the best thing he's ever seen.

Eventually her legs start cramping from being in the same position for so long and she winces a bit. Peter immediately moves, gently rolling them so that she's under him, his cock still inside her. She gasps at the sudden shift and the light pressure of him over her. He braces his elbow near her head and rolls his hips, his other hand brushing the hair from her face.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Their faces are inches apart and the reverent look it back as he takes her apart.

"Peter," she breathes. "Peter, please..."

She doesn't know what she's even asking for, but Peter does. He reaches between her legs and circles her clit with nimble fingers, pulling her closer and closer to the edge.

Stiles comes without warning, cunt rippling and clenching around Peter's cock as she throws her head back, shouting in surprise and pleasure. Peter groans and buries his face in her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He's whispering words against her skin that she can't make out, but they sound like promises. She clutches at his shoulders as his hips stutter and start to lose their rhythm. He kisses her right before he comes, gasping his pleasure against her lips as his cock twitches inside of her. Breathing harshly, he rests his forehead against hers, nudging their noses together. He stays inside her for a long time as they share lazy kisses and light touches.

When he softens enough to slip out, a small trickle of his release following, he gets up only to retrieve a warm, wet towel to gently clean between her thighs before returning to bed and pulling her against him. Stiles cuddles up to his chest and Peter rests his chin on top of her head, holding her tightly while their hearts slow back into normal patterns. There's a pleasant ache between her thighs and she's pretty sure there will be an imprint of his teeth on her neck when she looks in the mirror, but there's something pleasant about that, too.

"I didn't get to do this last time," he says, running his fingers through her sweat damp hair.

"Get to do what?" she asks.

"Get to have you like this," he says. "You left."

"Did you want me to stay?"

She expects him to dance around the question, so she's surprised when he answers, "Yes." He says it easily and with such certainty that it actually gives Stiles pause.

"I didn't know," she says.

"I know," Peter says. "I didn't want to push you into staying."

"Is that why you never brought it up again?" she asks.

"Mmm," he hums, stroking at the skin of her hip.

"I thought you didn't want to bring it up again," Stiles says.

"Not until you were ready," Peter says. "I got ahead of myself and should have waited."

"And now?" she asks, tilting her head up to look at him. "What are we now? Just friends with benefits that are going to have a baby together?"

"I want to be more than just your friend, Stiles," Peter says, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because of me, or is it just because I'm the mother of your kid?" Stiles asks, voicing her fear.

Peter curses under his breath and immediately looks contrite when she winces, like she wasn't supposed to hear it.

"No, no, I wasn't swearing at you, sweet one," Peter says immediately, soothing her with soft caresses. "I just didn't know you thought that."

Stiles shrugs.

"I don't know what you want," she says honestly.

"Let me be clear then," Peter says. He props himself up on one elbow so he can properly look at her and she can see him. He looks pleadingly at her, like he's willing that she understand and believe him. He ghosts his fingers over her cheek and down her jawline. "You are a truly exquisite and unique creature. I've wanted you for...a long time. Longer than I care to admit because you were too young. You're still so young. I was going to wait until you were out of college, give you a chance to meet people and see more of the world. I do want you, Stiles. Not just sexually, but as a partner. And not because you're the mother of my child, though I can't find it in me to be sad about that. I want you because of you, you sweet, brilliant, dangerous little hellion."

Stiles laughs because of course Peter would call someone he cares about a dangerous hellion.

"I want that, too," she says. "Though you probably have smelled that for a while."

"I could smell your desire," Peter says. "I couldn't tell if it was lust or something more."

"It's more," Stiles says. Peter's answering smile is so joyous that Stiles feels for a second like she can't breathe. It's cheesy and ridiculous, they aren't declaring undying love or anything, but she doesn't care. She's sure her face is doing the same thing.

Stiles falls asleep with Peter at her back, a protective hand splayed over her belly.

There are a few more days until classes start, so she and Peter go out shopping the next day for all her college books and, to Stiles' horror, maternity clothes.

"Why are all of these pastel?" she asks, holding up a lavender shirt. "Being pregnant doesn't make you a Monet painting."

Peter chuckles and goes through the rack near here, coming up with a basic black shirt.

"Acceptable?"

"God, yes," Stiles says and takes it to put in the cart.

They end up buying a few pairs of maternity pants with the stretchy waist band, a few black shirts, and a lot of regular, baggy t-shirts. Stiles figures they'll work for a while at least. Peter refuses to let her carry the bags, which makes Stiles roll her eyes, but she lets him. They're almost out of Target when a man bumps into Stiles' shoulder. Peter growls low enough that Stiles can hear it and she elbows him in the side.

"Oh sorry, I didn't see - Stiles?" the man asks.

It takes Stiles a second, but then she recognizes him. Jeremy, a guy she'd hooked up with once or twice back in Beacon Hills. She'd called him when she was bored or lonely and they would spend a few hours together before she put on her clothes and left.

"Jeremy, hi," Stiles says, still surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," Jeremy says cheekily. "Nah, I'm visiting my aunt up here for a bit before school starts. What about you? Stanford?"

"Yeah," she says. "Oh, god, rude, sorry, Peter, this is Jeremy, he went to high school with me. Jeremy, this is Peter."

"Hey man," Jeremy says and shakes Peter's hand.

Peter looks calmly polite, but that could mean anything, really.

"It was good to see you," Stiles says and makes to leave

"Wait, do you want to go to dinner with me?" he asks.

"Uh," Stiles says awkwardly. "Thanks, but I'm seeing someone."

Peter slides him arm around her waist and looks at Jeremy with an eyebrow raised. Jeremy's eyes widen.

"Dude. I thought he was your dad," Jeremy says.

"You know my dad is the sheriff," Stiles says, annoyed.

"Well your uncle then, or...wow, uh, okay," Jeremy says. "Good luck with that."

And he basically flees into the store. Peter tugs her closer and kisses her temple.

"You okay?" he asks as they walk to the car.

"Yeah," she says. "I figure I should expect that a lot. Does it bother you, old man?"

Peter rolls his eyes.

"Please. I am beautiful and desirable," Peter says. He puts their bags in the trunk before climbing into the car. Stiles snorts out a laugh. "He smelled like lust when he looked at you," Peter says.

"We hooked up a few times," Stiles says with a shrug. "It was never anything, really. I think he wanted to make an honest woman out of me or some crap, and I was just bored."

"His loss," Peter says.

"Sure," Stiles says with a snort. "What about you? Any ex lovers that're going to come calling?"

"Not likely," Peter says. He turns into traffic after looking both ways about five times, like a semi truck is going to come out of nowhere and flatten them. Well, flatten Stiles. "I was mostly with people for one night only, and never gave out my full name."

"Good," Stiles says. "Soon I'm going to be too fat to run anyone off with sticks."

Just like she'd thought, Peter ends up driving her to Stanford when classes start, refusing to let her walk.

"Walking won't kill me, you know," Stiles points out.

"What if I like driving you?" he asks. He says that whenever she tells him he doesn't have to cook for her, or do her laundry, or carry things for her.

"I don't understand how people are scared of you, you're just a giant marshmallow inside," she says.

"If you really want to make your own way there, you're welcome to," Peter says. "I would just like to drive you if you'll let me."

"Okay," Stiles says. She hadn't been wanting to walk or take a bus anyway. "I just feel like a useless bump on a log when you do everything for me. I'm not an invalid, I can do my own dishes."

To her shock, Peter actually blushes a bit at that. Her jaw drops, but he speaks before she can.

"That's a wolf thing, I believe. It...compels me, in a sense, to take care of you and provide for you. It's like my instincts are on high alert." He's very carefully looking away from her, like this is actually embarrassing for him. "It's not that I don't think you're capable of taking care of yourself. It's that I just want to."

"You softie," Stiles says, smiling. Luckily they're at a red light so she can lean across the console and kiss him. "Okay. I need to do something though, I feel like I'm not carrying my weight."

Peter sighs dramatically but compromises, promising not to do her dishes or laundry or pick up after her if it's out of his way, but reserves the right to if he's already doing his own dishes or laundry if it's easy. Stiles knows it's probably as good as she'll get.

The first day is easier than she'd expected. She's nervous, first day jitters, but most of her classmates are the same way. The teachers go over the syllabi mostly, a few set small writing assignments, but nothing major. All are intro classes, so they don't jump into too much. In Stiles' last class of the day, there's an obviously pregnant woman in her 30s sitting near the front of the class, pen and paper out. Stiles hesitates for a moment and notices that all the desks around her are empty, the students giving her a wide berth. Stiles doesn't know if it has to do with her age or the fact that she's pregnant, but fuck it, Stiles sits next to her.

"Hey," Stiles says.

The woman looks up in surprise.

"Hi," she says.

"I'm Stiles," Stiles says, never that great at starting conversations that aren't rambles or insults.

"Kathy," the woman says and shakes Stiles' hand. She looks relieved and Stiles wonders if people have been avoiding her all day. "Are you a freshman?"

"Yeah, and dude, this is overwhelming," Stiles says.

"I bet," Kathy says with a laugh. "I didn't finish the first time, so here I am."

"Is it hard?" Stiles asks.

"Sometimes, but it's funny to watch kids think I'm the professor," she says. Stiles snorts. "So, how far along are you?"

Stiles' jaw drops.

"What?" she asks and glances down. "You can tell?"

"I saw your vitamins when you set your bag down. And I have the same maternity jeans you're wearing," Kathy says kindly. Stiles grimaces. "Is it a secret?"

"Not really? I'm just not broadcasting it I guess. Eighteen and pregnant isn't really a stereotype that earns you a lot of people treating you really well," Stiles says.

Kathy nods.

"Well, I think that stigma will probably stick," she says apologetically. "But you're happy, right? Do you have help?"

"Yeah, my...boyfriend sounds juvenile for people having a baby together, I guess partner? He moved here with me and is fantastic, really," she says, not able to help the smile. Kathy grins knowingly.

"My husband is like that," she says. "Is he doing the typical man of a pregnant person thing? Opening all doors, carrying all your bags, all that?"

"Oh yeah. He insists on driving me everywhere, cooking for me, doing laundry, it's ridiculous," Stiles says.

Kathy laughs.

"Let him, is my advice. My husband always feels a bit useless. He says I'm doing the hard work, the least he can do is help around the house," Kathy says. "He did it with the first two kids, too."

"Huh," Stiles says. "I didn't really think about it like that." She hopes that extends to midnight diaper changes, too.

Kathy and Stiles exchange numbers at the end of class, planning on studying together in the future. Peter picks her up in the student parking lot with a bag of curly fries.

"Oh my god, you're the best," she says, digging in.

"I know," Peter says, driving off. "I figured you deserved something special after your first day."

"What would I do without you?" Stiles says through a mouthful of fries.

"Have to buy your own food?" Peter says.

"Sacrilege."

They fall into a routine and isn't that strange? Stiles having a daily routine with Peter? Each morning she wakes up with Peter, either sprawled across his chest, or cradled in his arms, or in some other odd position. Peter gets up and starts breakfast and threatens to withhold food if she doesn't get out of bed soon. (They both know he won't, but still, Stiles doesn't risk it.) Then Peter drives her to school before going back home to work. It turns out that Peter speaks a bunch of languages and uses that to do translations. (Stiles doesn't know why that surprises her. After all, a bored and idle Peter is a dangerous Peter, so she's glad he has something to do. He admits that he used to...acquire supernatural items and knowledge for a particular clientele, but doesn't want to possibly bring danger home to her. She calls him a sketchy Indiana Jones.)

Peter picks her up in the evening after classes. He's never later, and never complains. They go back home and they cook dinner, usually together, before eating. Stiles does her homework, Peter helps if she gets stuck, and they watch a movie or show. Peter also makes sure to take Stiles out at least once a week, be it to a fancy restaurant, a romantic hotel on the beach, something. He says, "You deserve to be dated properly. We skipped a few steps."

Before Stiles knows it, she's been at Stanford for a month and it's time to drive back to Beacon Hills for her appointment with Dr. Warrick. She hadn't taken any Friday classes, so Peter and her drive down early in the morning so they can get the appointment out of the way then meet her father for lunch. Dr. Warrick tells her everything is progressing along nicely and she's in perfect health, much to Stiles' relief.

"We're meeting Dad at the restaurant," Stiles says as the pull out of the Women's Health Center's parking lot. "He doesn't want us to meet at the station, he's too embarrassed."

"He isn't embarrassed by you," Peter says.

"Really. You think he'd like his coworkers seeing his pregnant daughter and her 36-year-old boyfriend? You think he'd be proud of me?" Stiles says sarcastically.

"Your father loves you," Peter says. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you no matter where it is."

"Then why is he meeting us at a restaurant instead of at his work?"

"Maybe he needs to be able to leave in a hurry if there's an emergency. Maybe he thinks I drive like a maniac. Maybe he has bad gas," Peter says. Stiles laughs despite herself. "There could be a million reasons, Stiles. Don't jump to the worst possible conclusion."

She knows that, she really does. But jumping to the worst possible conclusion has saved her and her friends' lives more times than she can count. She'd told Peter before, worrying is kind of her thing, and this goes hand-in-hand with that. She tries to listen to him, though. She knows stress is bad for her and the baby but damn, it's hard.

The sheriff is already at the diner when they get there. He stands when he sees her and immediately hugs her, careful of her stomach. He shakes Peter's hand, his mouth set in a grim line. Peter manages not to look amused, which Stiles appreciates. Stiles slides into the booth before Peter, not wanting curious glances from small town people that would just love to gossip about seeing the sheriff's knocked up daughter. The waitress, bless her, pretends she doesn't notice and just takes their orders.

"You ordered a salad?" Stiles asks in surprise when the waitress walks away. "At a diner known for their burgers?"

"Yeah," the sheriff said. "I figured I want to be around for a long time to play with my grandkid."

Stiles absolutely gets misty-eyed at that and has to blink a few times to make sure tears don't fall.

"Right," she says. "Yeah, I want that, too."

"Anyway, I wanted to give you this," the sheriff says. He pulls up a paper grocery bag from where it had been resting by his feet. Inside is a yellow and green baby blanket and a book. "The blanket was yours. Your mom wanted to keep it in case you ever had kids. And that's her pregnancy journal. She wrote down everything. Every weird craving, every time you kicked her in the kidneys. I don't know if it'll help, but if you want it..."

"I absolutely do," Stiles says and yeah, there are definitely tears in her eyes now. Peter wordlessly hands her a napkin so she can dab at her eyes. The sheriff is looking at the ceiling, as if he's willing off tears of his own.

"Anyway, it's just been sitting in the closet," the sheriff says.

"Thanks, Dad," Stiles says.

"I know that Lydia and the girls are probably throwing you a ridiculous baby shower and men aren't usually invited to that so - "

"Screw that, men are absolutely invited to mine," Stiles says.

"Always one to buck tradition," the sheriff says with a smile.

The rest of lunch goes well. Her dad manages to at least be civil toward Peter and have a decent conversation. Stiles and he hug for a long minute before he has to go. Peter takes her hand as soon as they get in the car.

"See?" he says quietly. "He could never be ashamed of you."

He brushes a stray tear off her cheekbone before starting the car and driving to the Hale house. Derek and Scott are there to greet them when they pull in. Scott pulls Stiles into a hug the second she's out of the car.

"Dude it's so good to see you! Wow you're bigger!" Scott says.

"Yeah, that happens," Stiles says with a grin.

Derek's next hugging her. He glances down at her stomach and says, "Can I?"

Stiles nods and Derek places his hand on her belly, looking up at her apprehensively.

"It's too early to feel anything move yet," Stiles says.

Derek nods but still looks at her in wonder. Stiles realizes she's the first woman he's been close to that's pregnant since before the fire.

Only Derek and Scott are at the house. Boyd and Erica are both at work and Isaac is at Beacon Community College, where he and Scott are both taking classes. Kira, Lydia, Jackson, and Allison are all out of state for college, though Stiles doesn't miss Jackson at all. Stiles is craving sesame chicken, so they order out for dinner. Most of the delivery places know them pretty well by now and their food gets there quickly. Scott's so happy to have her back that he doesn't even cringe when Stiles kisses Peter. They all eat and chat about classes, or work, or the pack. Stiles hadn't realized how much she'd missed this. She likes her life in Palo Alto, she likes being with Peter, but there's still a warm, content feeling at the Hale house in Beacon Hills that's just hard to replicate.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac get back late that night when Stiles is dozing on the couch with her head in Peter's lap. She only wakes up because Erica squeals before being shushed. Stiles opens a bleary eye to see the three of them on the couch across from her. Erica is grinning like a maniac, Isaac is smiling too, and even Boyd looks happy to see her.

"Hey?" she says.

"You're glowing, oh my god," Erica says.

Stiles groans and sits up.

"That's probably sweat," Stiles says. "Either that or Peter spilled glitter on me again."

"That was one time," Peter says. "You need to learn to let things go."

She pinches his thigh.

"Seriously though," Erica says. "You look good. And you seem happy."

"I am," Stiles says. "I actually really am."

It's hard to leave that Sunday after spending so much time with her dad and the pack. She hugs everyone multiple times and assures them they'll be back in a month for Thanksgiving and another appointment, then just a month after that for Christmas. Scott pouts but Stiles is beyond immune to his puppy eyes and just ruffles his hair.

Stiles' bump is getting pronounced enough, especially on her small frame, that more and more people are starting to notice, even in her baggiest t-shirt. She ends up telling off a group of guys in one of her classes for playing the 'pregnant or fat' game in her English class, threatening to break their arms if she ever hears them talking about women like that again. They laugh at first but something in the way she looks at them makes them look a bit fearful. Stiles is glad that even pregnant she has the ability to make assholes cower.

"What's 'pregnant or fat'?" Peter asks when she tells him about it that night. She's sitting on the counter next to where he's stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce.

"It's really fucking awful," Stiles says. "Guys will point to a girl and try to guess if she's pregnant or just fat."

"That's horrible!" Peter says, looking genuinely appalled. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Because sometimes, Peter, the world is full of people that are even bigger assholes than either of us."

Peter gives her that one and goes back to his sauce before freezing. Stiles is instantly on alert, looking over her shoulder at the apartment door, like someone is about to burst in.

"What is it?" she asks. But Peter isn't moving, he's staring at her. "What?"

"I can hear our baby's heartbeat," he says, sounding strangled.

"You can what?" Stiles says.

"I can hear it," he says. He steps between where her legs are dangling over the counter edge and presses his hand to her belly. He looks up at her with wide eyes. "I can hear it."

Stiles is torn between being happy and being irrationally jealous at her lack of werewolf hearing. She swallows, lets the happiness bloom, and watches how Peter's eyes go wide with wonder.

"What does it sound like?" she asks.

"It's fast," he says. "It sounds like wings."

"Oh," she says, not sure what else to say.

"You are so loved," Peter says, talking to her stomach. "You are already so loved and we can't wait to meet you."

Stiles' eyes start welling with tears and god, she hates that her emotions are so close to the surface lately. Peter notices, like he always does, and kisses her softly. The joy on his face is infections and they both end up laughing and she's feels like an ad for a Hallmark movie. Fuck, it's awful and she loves it. If Peter falls asleep that night with his head in her lap, ear to her belly, well, she loves that, too.

When Peter drops Stiles off at school the next day, Kathy is waiting for her, ready to study for a test they have coming up. Her eyes widen at the sight of Peter's car, then at Peter himself when he opens Stiles' door and gives her a hand out. She doesn't really need it, not yet, but it makes him feel better to do it so she isn't going to complain. She kisses Peter goodbye before waving and making her way over to Kathy.

"Stiles," Kathy says, looking dumbstruck. "How - how old is he?"

"He's 36."

"He's literally twice as old as you!"

"Sure is. Let me tell you, he has experience."

Kathy looks at her for a second like she isn't sure if she should laugh or not, and finally gives in, laughing along with Stiles.

"Well, damn, kudos to you on bagging that," Kathy says.

"Yeah, he's pretty great," Stiles says. "Don't ever tell him I said that, though. His ego is big enough."

Kathy just laughs.

Before Stiles knows it, November is almost over and they're driving back down to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving and her next appointment. She's nearly bouncing off the walls of the waiting room because today they're going to find out the sex of the baby. She doesn't really care one way or another which it is, but she still wants to know. Pregnancy milestone, all the books she's read said. Peter regards her with calm amusement, but she can tell her's excited too.

"Hello, Stiles," Dr. Warrick greets her when she comes into the examination room. "Peter, good to see you both."

Stiles rushes through answering Dr. Warrick's questions and the rest of the exam, much to the doctor's amusement, until it was time for the ultrasound. Like before, Peter stands at her side, her hand held in his. Dr. Warrick warns her about the cold gel again, but Stiles doesn't care about that, just eagerly looks at the screen. Her little peanut fetus is bigger than before, about the length of a small banana. Dr. Warrick looks at the screen and moves the wand around a little.

"Well, your cysts are still looking fine, no change there, which is good," Dr. Warrick says. "And you two want to know the sex of the baby?"

"Yes," Stiles says quickly. "Very, very yes."

"Then congratulations, you're having a baby girl," she says.

Peter's hand tightens on hers and he smiles down at her. He kisses her temple and rests his forehead against hers, uncaring of Dr. Warrick being in the room.

"A little girl," Peter says.

"You're going to dote on her so much," Stiles says with a wet laugh.

"Spoiled rotten," Peter confirms.

They leave with a printout for the pack house, one for her dad, and one for them. Stiles' dad actually isn't working on Thanksgiving, so they do a meal that night with him. Neither Stiles nor the Sheriff have ever really done the traditional Thanksgiving thing, so Stiles and Peter end up cooking an Asian stir fry dish and rice. Well, Peter ends up cooking, Stiles watches because Peter is a damn good cook. They eat in the living room in front of the TV, watching the game. Peter seems surprised that Stiles is into football.

"Why, because I'm a girl?" she asks.

"No, because you make fun of 'meathead jocks' all the time," Peter says.

"I played lacrosse," Stiles points out. "I have nothing against sports, some jocks are just dicks."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Peter says.

Stiles and the sheriff cheer whenever the Seahawks score. Not because the have an affinity for Seattle, but because they really want the Rams to lose.

"Fuck the Rams," Stiles says.

"Language," her dad says mildly. "But yes, fuck the Rams."

The sheriff is so happy to see her that he forgets to glare at Peter. Stiles is pretty sure that hospitality doesn't extend to him sleeping over, so she and Peter leave that night to sleep at the Hale house.

"That wasn't so bad," Stiles says that night when she and Peter are in bed.

"I think I've been upgraded out of the potential murder victim category," Peter says.

Stiles just hums and drifts to sleep.

She's alone when she wakes up the next morning. She rolls over to look at her phone and sees she's slept in and it's 10:00 am. The smell of food wafts up to her and that's the only thing that gets her out of bed, really. Well, that and she's pretty sure she's going to have to pee again soon.

Peter's waiting for her with a plate of french toast and eggs when she gets downstairs. He and Derek are already working on the pack's Thanksgiving meal for that night (they all decided to do it on Black Friday so they could all still see their families), so she takes a seat at the breakfast bar to keep them company. Derek keeps glancing at the ultrasound picture on the fridge and it makes something warm bloom in Stiles. She knows that pack will love her kid no matter what, but she's also absolutely sure that Derek is going be the best cousin her baby could have.

"Did Peter tell you we're having a girl?" Stiles asks.

Derek drops the potato he'd been peeling.

"No," Peter says, amused. "I wanted to wait for you."

"A girl?" Derek says with a smile, as if that somehow makes it more real. Like it isn't an abstract concept anymore, it's a little girl waiting to come into the world.

"Yeah," Stiles says, smiling.

Derek walks over and kisses her on the forehead and gives her a hug.

"I haven't said it much because I'm not good at this, but I am so happy for you two," Derek says.

Stiles smiles, because he has said it, and he's even better at showing it, but she still loves to hear it anyway.

"Thanks, Derek," Stiles says. "She's going to be lucky to have you to go to when her parents drive her nuts."

"I'll be the one with the candy her parents won't let her have," Derek says solemnly, then cracks a smile.

"You're paying for the dental bills, then," Peter says.

The pack starts trickling in around 1:00, all of them bringing something, be it deviled eggs, a casserole or, in Jackson's case, a box of doughnuts. Peter rolls his eyes so spectacularly that Stiles is actually surprised he doesn't hurt himself. They all sit to eat around 5:00, which Stiles has never understood. It feels like going to geriatric hour at a Denny's.

Before they can eat, Derek clears his throat and stands with his glass to make a toast. The pack falls quiet because Derek doesn't always use a lot of words, but when he does, they tend to be powerful.

"There have been years where it's been hard to be thankful for anything," Derek says. "But not this year. We're all healthy. All of us are here, and happy. There's new life coming to the pack." Everyone looks at Stiles, who blushes red. "And I am very thankful for all of you."

Jackson rolls his eyes, but Stiles thinks she sees a tiny bit of his soulless self smile. Everyone else looks varying degrees of touched and all toast. Stiles doesn't even mourn that everyone has champagne in their glasses but her. Champagne is nasty anyway.

Peter's very careful to keep the green bean casserole away from her as the onions on top were making Stiles nauseated earlier. She seriously appreciates it because she almost lost her breakfast earlier. Derek, who's sitting across from her, makes sure she gets potatoes and turkey before everyone else, and keeps offering to get her things. She wonders if it's a pack protection thing or if he's just like this.

Dessert is homemade pumpkin, apple, and blackberry pies supplied by Erica, who apparently has a skill for baking. For all her normal confidence, she looks shy and nervous when everyone tries it, scared of their reactions. She didn't need to worry. Stiles moans almost pornographically at the blackberry pie. Similar reactions go around the table and Erica flushes red and looks immensely pleased.

"I'm 100% serious when I say this," Stiles says around a mouthful of pie. "You should absolutely open a bakery. Even if all you do is pies, you would make a fortune. What else do you like a bake?"

"Anything, really," Erica says. "I love pies, cakes, cookies. I have an amazing coffee cake recipe."

"Why haven't you brought any around?" Isaac asks. "You've been hoarding sweets from us?"

"I didn't want to bring them over if they sucked," Erica says sheepishly.

"Well they absolutely don't," Stiles says. "I'm serious. Bakery."

"I can't afford to start a bakery, Stiles," Erica says. "I wouldn't even know how. I'm at BHCC to get a piece of paper that says I'm smart enough to make it through school to get a decent job, blah blah. I don't know how to run a business."

"I do," Peter says.

Eyes fly to Peter in shock.

"Well, that's lovely for you..." Isaac says slowly.

Peter rolls his eyes like Isaac is deliberately being obtuse.

"I have my master's in business," Peter says. "I'd be happy to sit down with you and go over plans if it's something you want to pursue."

Erica looks at him, eyes wide. Her interactions with Peter have been, like most of the pack's, not always overly friendly. He's made snide comments at her, she's thrown words back at him. They've been antagonistic, reluctant allies at best. But that's the same with most of the pack and Peter.

"I - thank you," Erica says genuinely. "I don't have the money for it, but - "

"That's not a problem," Derek interrupts.

"Uh, yeah it kind of is," Erica says.

"The Hale family has always been...comfortable," Derek says.

"Loaded," Stiles says.

Derek shoots her a look, but doesn't correct her. She isn't wrong.

"I was happy to use that money to rebuild a pack house for us. I'd be happy to help you all pay for your education, if any of you weren't too proud to accept," Derek says.

"I accepted," Isaac says. "Fuck pride, school's expensive."

"And I'd be happy to help fund your startup," Derek says.

"I can't just take your money, Derek," Erica says. "You've given me...you gave me the bite. You gave me the gift of family and friends and health and...I can't take more from you."

"This is what pack is," Derek says. "We help each other however we can. I want to. Please, just think about it?"

"I'll think about it," Erica says. "Thanks, both of you."

Peter nods in acknowledgement. Stiles is swelling with affection and kisses Peter to the chorus of Scott and Jackson's groans.

"You big marshmallow," she says.

"The agreement was that only you know that," Peter teases.

"I agreed to no such thing!"

"Speaking of you two being sickeningly sweet," Lydia says. "Are you going to leave us in suspense any longer?"

"Huh?" Stiles asks.

"I know you had an ultrasound today," Lydia says. "Out with it! Boy or girl?"

"Oh, totally a girl," Stiles says.

"HA!" Erica says.

Boyd and Jackson both hand her $20, Kira collects from Allison, and Derek from Isaac.

"You guys bet on the sex of our baby?" Peter asks.

"We sure did," Kira says brightly. "Thanks for making me $40 richer."

Stiles hadn't realized just how much she'd missed the pack until they're all gathered like this. She's been busy with college and doctor appointments and Peter. She and the pack aren't as ridiculously codependent like they'd been in high school, which is good, or else none of them would be able to go to college, but she's still missed them. Even Jackson, a little bit. Kind of. Not really.

Stiles and Peter curl up in bed that night, full and exhausted. Even Peter looks a bit worn. Stiles runs her hands over Peter's forearm where it's wrapped around her, enjoying the feeling of his breath against her neck.

"That was a nice thing you did," Stiles says.

"Hmm?" Peter asks, not pulling away from where he's nuzzling at her throat.

"For Erica," Stiles clarifies.

"It's what you do for pack members," Peter says.

Stiles turns in his arms so they're face-to-face.

"You haven't said that before," Stiles says softly. "Acknowledged that you're part of the pack. You usually like to stay on the outskirts."

"Maybe I have a reason not to now," Peter says.

Stiles smiles but doesn't say anything, knowing Peter doesn't want her cooing over what amounts to a grand declaration from him. She just snuggles closer into his side and lets herself drift off.

As soon as they're back to Palo Alto, Stiles starts a mad scramble to prepare for finals. She barely has two weeks of classes left until her exams, and at least two of her classes expect a final essay as well. Peter learns quickly to stay out of her way when she's studying. She'd worried him at first with her frantic study habits, but assured him it's normal for her and to please stop talking to her. He'd agreed and now just leaves snacks out for her and is careful not to do anything to annoy her, like breathing too loudly.

Kathy comes over one night to study for their class. She and Stiles are both hunched over the table working when Peter comes home from the store. He regards them quietly, not wanting to interrupt, and leaves them be. Stiles vaguely registers sounds coming from the kitchen, but doesn't pay it any mind until the smell starts wafting into the living room. She and Kathy both look up around the same time and in comes Peter with a tray of banana bread, something Stiles has been craving on and off for the past week.

"Oh my god, you're honestly the best," Stiles says. She makes to get up but Peter shakes his head.

"I can come to you," he says, amused.

He sets the plate between them and comes back a second later with napkins and two glasses of water. He settles next to Stiles on the couch and she automatically relaxes into his side. Peter drapes an arm over her shoulder and kisses her temple, letting her recline against him. Kathy gives them a knowing smirk.

"You guys are absolutely precious," she says. "You remind me of my husband and I when we first met."

"I've still never met him," Stiles says.

Kathy sighs and says, "He's a workaholic, so probably never will. He wants to save up as much as he can before the baby is born so he can take off time to help."

Stiles frowns.

"But who's helping you while he's at work?" she asks.

"My oldest is thirteen, so she does what she can," Kathy says. "But mostly I've got it down. It's my third time around."

"Well, you can always call if you need anything..."

"I know, hun," Kathy says, patting Stiles' hand. "Peter, this bread is amazing."

Peter preens and Stiles fights not to roll her eyes as he and Kathy start talking baking recipes.

Stiles honestly doesn't know how she would do this without Peter. She's needy, she knows, and had a mad new level of respect for single moms. She's always known, thanks to Melissa and her dad, how hard it can be raising a kid on your own. But she's never really thought about how some manage to go through the pregnancy entirely by themselves. She's lucky to have Peter, she knows. She's lucky Peter wants to have this with her.

It's all become so...routine. In the absolute best way, not in a boring, stuck-in-a-rut way. It's amazing and it's the way she and Peter fit so neatly against each other. It's how they always curl up together to marathon their way through a show, (The Walking Dead at the moment). It's Peter always dropping her off and picking her up from class; how they cook together, each bumping each other with their hips as they work side-by-side; how Peter always kisses her before he goes to sleep, kisses down her throat and over collarbones, mouthing at her neck and setting his teeth against her skin; it's how he, Peter Hale, is always putting her first, putting her wants or needs above his own.

And holy fuck, she's in love with him. How could she not have noticed? She's supposed to be the smart one for fuck's sake. She loves his stupid, pretentious clothes and his smile and how he reverently touches her, like he can't believe she's real. She loves how dangerous he is, how quick he is to protect what's his, how beautifully harsh his mind can be. She loves him.

Kathy hugs Stiles when she leaves, promising that even though she's taking the next quarter off to have her baby, she'll be sure to keep in contact with Stiles. Stiles demands to see baby pictures when he's born and that's certainly a sentence she never thought she'd say.

Stiles turns and all but launches herself into Peter's arms was soon as he locks the door behind Kathy. Peter looks surprised, but goes with it, rubbing one hand over her back and the other lightly squeezes the nape of her neck.

"Not that I'm complaining, because I never will when I get to touch you," Peter says, "but do you want to tell me what has your heart beating so quickly?"

"I love you," Stiles blurts out into Peter's chest and wow, she meant to float that a lot smoother. "I just realized and oh my god that's too early to say, we've only been together for a few months, but we're having a baby, so is it too early? Or too late? Oh my god, I'm sorry I didn't think - "

"Stiles," Peter interrupts and tugs her a little so that she'll pull away from his chest enough to look up at him. He's smiling that soft smile that she only ever sees aimed at her, the lines around his eyes crinkled. "I love you, too, darling."

"Oh thank god," she says and leans up to kiss him.

Peter takes control of the kiss, one hand wrapped in her hair as he backs her up against the door, his body covering hers. Stiles breaks the kiss for air and tilts her head to the side, baring her neck in invitation. Peter growls and takes it, dragging his teeth down her throat and sucking a mark where her neck meets her shoulder. Stiles whimpers against him, clutching at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"Peter," she gasps as he bites down harder.

"Say it again," Peter growls. He licks over the skin he's just bitten, then bites again.

"Peter," Stiles groans. "Love you. I love you."

Peter tugs her away from the door and onto the couch, pressing her back until she's lying down and he's between her legs. Peter tugs down her leggings, hands smoothing over her thighs and calves as they're revealed. He kisses her ankle before running his hands back up her legs, parting her thighs gently. He doesn't bother removing her panties, just pushes them to the side and noses at her slit. A light kiss is pressed to her core before he's dipping his tongue into her. Stiles gasps his name and trembles as he places her legs over his shoulders so he can delve deeper, his nose nudging her hard clit as he laps at her.

They've been doing this for months and he knows her now, knows her body, knows how exactly to get her to make that breathy little sigh he loves so much. He knows how when he nibbles right there, pleasure shoots through her and her body starts to tense. Knows that when she's close, he can slip a finger into her, then another, because she loves coming with something inside her, and suck on her clit hard. Stiles doesn't have to warn him that she's close, he can tell from her body and they way she reaches a shaky hand down to rest on his head. He sucks her clit harder and gives it a little flick of his tongue and that does it. Stiles' warm cunt clenches down around his fingers and she keens above him, gasping and moaning her way though her orgasm. Peter lets her legs down off her shoulder and rests his head on her thigh with a chuckle.

"What?" she asks. She's out of breath. Peter's wolf purrs in contentment.

"Nothing," Peter says. "You always just look so beautiful when you come."

Stiles blushes and reaches down to try him up for a kiss. When she goes to reach between his legs, he stops her.

"You don't have to," Peter says. "This was all I wanted."

"What if I want to?" Stiles asks.

"Then we'd better finish your flashcards so we can go to bed," Peter says.

Stiles groans but lets Peter rearrange them so that she's reclining on the couch, resting between Peter's spread legs with his arms wrapped around her. He quizzes her on her bio terms for her final, kissing her when she gets one right, flicking her when she gets one wrong. It doesn't act as too big of a deterrent since it just makes her giggle, but that's fine. When she does get her mouth on him that night, she proves that she's been paying attention for the last few months, too, making him come down her throat in only a few minutes. Peter isn't even embarrassed, just kisses her after and they fall asleep skin to skin.

Finals are grueling, but not as bad as Stiles had been worried about. The tests are stretched out over a week, and Stiles luckily doesn't end up like Kathy, who has three in one day. Stiles and Peter had wanted to have a few quiet days to themselves before they drove back to Beacon Hills, but Stiles' doctor appointment couldn't be moved, so the day after her last final, they're once again packing a bag each, loading up everyone's Christmas presents, and driving. They time it so that they can make it to the doctor's office first before having to go anywhere else. Dr. Warrick says everything is healthy and there's nothing new, other than the baby being the size of an ear of corn. Which really weirds Stiles out because she starts imagining corn in her uterus and it leads to some weird dreams.

Stiles and Peter are staying at the pack house over the Christmas break, so they head there first. Stiles knows that it hurts her dad's feelings a bit that she isn't staying with him, but she also knows that he doesn't want Peter staying in his house and Stiles honestly just doesn't want to go without sleeping next to Peter. So, the pack house it is. Stiles' dad is coming over early on Christmas morning when he finishes his shift anyway, so it's not like he's missing much.

The Hale house's full-time residents are Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Derek. The rest have rooms there, but are either away at school or still living with their parents. So it's Erica and Boyd who welcome Stiles and Peter when they arrive. They help with bags, letting Stiles carry only the lightest. Stiles, used to this by now, rolls her eyes, but says fuck it. If the werewolves want to make multiple trips to the car, that's fine with her. She smells Erica's cookies and isn't above stealing an entire plate for herself.

"Where are Derek and Isaac?" Stiles asks when Erica, Boyd, and Peter are done unloading the car and settle into the living room.

"They're doing they're Christmas shopping," Boyd says.

"They do know it's December 23rd, right?" Stiles says. "And that Amazon exists?"

"Erica made them return what they got you," Boyd says.

"I did not!" Erica says. Boyd gives her a look and she shrugs, completely unapologetic, and says, "Yeah, I did. If I didn't, Lydia would have anyway."

"Why?" Stiles asks.

"They bought you baby stuff, which I told them is stupid because you're going to have a baby shower and don't have a registry, so they'd probably end up buying stuff you didn't want anyway. Plus, buying baby stuff is a cop out gift. It's not even born yet. Merry Christmas, here's some stuff you can't use for another five months," Erica says. "Give a gift for the parents."

Stiles doesn't really care one way or the other, but it's still nice that Erica thought about it. Usually they do a secret Santa since there are so many of them in the pack, but this year they decided to just throw gifts at everyone. Stiles is expecting it when Derek and Isaac come back with a dozen shopping bags. What she hasn't expected is for Cora to be with them.

"Oh my god!" Cora says, rushing to Stiles and completely bypassing Peter, who merely rolls his eyes. Cora's hands hover over Stiles' belly. "Can I?"

"Go for it," Stiles says.

Cora gently touches her stomach, grinning widely.

"I can hear her heartbeat, that's so wild," Cora says.

"You're going to be an aunt," Peter says, nudging her with his elbow. Cora punches him in the arm but Stiles thinks she's a bit misty-eyed.

The pack has taken advantage of the house's high ceilings and bought a twelve-foot tree and covered it in tinsel, tiny lights, and a bright assortment of baubles. It looks like something you'd see in a designer catalog and Stiles strongly suspects Lydia's influence. The railings are all covered in green garland, lights are strung up around every window, and there are little snowman figurines everyowhere. It feels like a winter wonderland and Stiles absolutely loves it.

Stiles ends up helping Derek wrap his gifts because, let's face it, he sucks at it. She watches him just kind of roll a sweater for Isaac into a ball and wrap some paper around it so it looks like a crinkly blob and just shakes her head.

"No, no, absolutely not," Stiles says.

"What?" Derek asks.

"You are absolutely not wrapping gifts like that," Stiles says.

"They're going to get torn open anyway, what's the point?" Derek asks.

"Oh my god," Stiles says. "No appreciation for the craft."

She makes Derek take her to the store and buy a metric fuckton of ribbon, gift boxes, and bows.

"We don't need this," Derek protests half-heartedly, but he wasn't good at getting his way with Stiles even before she became pregnant, and he basically has given up.

When they're back, Stiles makes him sit with her while she shows him exactly how to fold perfect corners, how to make bows with the thick ribbon they bought, all the different placement for ribbon, how to curl it properly, all until Derek is looking at her like she has a second head.

"What?" she asks.

She's just set a perfectly wrapped gift next to him, covered in blue and silver paper with a matching silver bow and curled ribbon. Derek looks at it like it's a totally foreign object.

"What?" she asks again.

"How do you even do that?" Derek asks.

"Practice?"

"Why?"

"Because it's Christmas, let me have pretty things, Derek!"

Derek surrenders and just gives up, handing her whatever supplies she asks for while she finishes the rest of the wrapping. Lydia stops by and looks over her shoulder, nodding approvingly.

"I'm glad you took the wrapping paper away from him," she says. "He already wrapped one for Erica but ran out of Christmas paper. He used paper that said 'Happy Birthday' and added 'Jesus' to the end of it."

Stiles laughs.

"I don't know, I think Erica would kind of love that," Stiles says.

The pack throws Derek a birthday party on Christmas eve, because it's some complete bullshit that people try to merge his birthday with Christmas. Derek seems overwhelmed that they would do that for him, and it tugs on Stiles' heart that after all these years, he still has trouble believing her deserves nice things. Peter tugs her closer to his side and kisses the top of her head when he smells her sorrow.

"I know, love," is all he says.

Stiles is in the kitchen putting together another cheese platter (god, werewolves eat a lot) when she feels squirming in her belly. She gasps and almost drops the cheese, barely managing to drop it back to the counter. Peter, always so attuned to her, is in the kitchen is an instant, worry clouding his face as he sees her standing in the middle of the kitchen with her hands on her stomach.

"Stiles..."

"I felt her move!" Stiles says, eyes wide and awed. "Peter, I felt her move, come here."

Peter is at her side immediately. Stiles takes his hand and places it on her belly where she'd felt the movement earlier. They have to wait a few moments, but then she feels that squirming again. She's about to ask Peter if he felt it but the way he's looking at her belly, face open and full of wonder, answers that for her.

"Hey, what's going on?" Scott asks, coming in and looking at them. "Is everything okay?"

"Scott, Scotty boy, come here, I felt her move," Stiles says.

Scott puts his hand next to Peter's, who manages not to glare. His eyes go wide.

"Dude that's so weird! Totally awesome, but weird," Scott says.

"Right?" Stiles says.

Scott takes over the cheese platter and Stiles and Peter go back to the living room where everyone basically lines up to feel her stomach.

Lydia, Allison, Kira, and even Cora coo, Isaac tries to look stoic but Stiles is pretty sure that he's fighting not to smile, and even Boyd looks happy. Erica fist bumps her for having a healthy kid and mock-whispers to Stiles' stomach that she promises to always have candy. Jackson pretends not to see her, suddenly engrossed with placing tinsel on the tree. Stiles doesn't care, though Derek and Lydia are glaring daggers at him. Whatever, she doesn't really want him touching her anyway.

Jackson pouts throughout dinner and Cards Against Humanity, but the pack, used to Jackson's behavior, just ignores him. At least until a card about a sugar daddy comes up and he sneers and says, "Stiles would know all about that."

"What?" Stiles asks.

"Well with Peter footing the bill for everything, it's not like you'd be with him otherwise," Jackson says.

"Oh fuck off," Stiles says.

"Jackson, take a walk," Scott says.

"But - "

"That wasn't a suggestion," Scott says, flashing alpha eyes.

Jackson huffs but puts his cards down and storms out the front door. Stiles clears her throat and looks pointedly at Kira, who goes right back to reading the card answers as if no one had interrupted. God bless Kira. This is Derek's birthday and nothing was going to ruin it, damn it.

Jackson came back around the time they were finishing up the game to dish up cake. Erica made it, and it looks glorious. It has two tiers, because she felt like getting creative, with a large edible wolf on top. Stiles doesn't know enough about baking to know if it's marzipan or icing or what, but it has eyes like Derek's and it makes her grin.

Everyone either leaves or retires to their rooms after that. The pack members not staying were planning on coming over Christmas night so they can do a big pack snuggle pile. Stiles can't wait.

"You know you don't owe me anything, don't you?" Peter asks that night. He's massaging the aches out of her feet and her brain isn't quite working.

"What?" Stiles asks, confused.

"I'm 'footing the bill' for this either way, whether we're together or not," Peter says.

"Jackson, that fucking - god, Peter," Stiles says. She pulls her feet out of his hands and crawls across the bed to him. Cupping his face in her hands she kisses his nose and keeps peppering kisses all over his face until he looks at her. "I'm choosing not to be offended that you think I'd sink that low, because I know you don't mean it that way. But Peter, come on. You know I love you. When have I ever said that and it's been a lie? What's - where's this coming from?"

"I'm older than you."

"Okay? And?"

"You have your entire life in front of you and I...don't."

"Okay, Peter, you're not ninety," Stiles says.

"I know, but is this what you'd envisioned for your future? Being with a man twice your age? Feeling chained to him for your life?" Peter asks.

"I'm trying really hard not to kick you in the shin right now, I hope you know," Stiles says."I honestly hadn't envisioned much for my future. The way things go in Beacon Hills, I hadn't even really expected to live to graduate high school."

Peter flinches at her words and grabs tightly to her hand.

"You're not allowed to die," he says.

"It's not high on my priority list," Stiles says dryly. "Peter, listen to me, listen to my heartbeat, and really listen to what I'm saying. I want you. Baby or not, I'd have still wanted you. I like that you're older than me. I like that you have your shit together. Do you think I could just find some boy straight out of high school and be able to relate to him after all the shit we've been through? Do you think I'd be able to find someone who matches me so well like you do? As smart and devious as you? Do you really think someone else could make me this happy?"

Peter sighs and pulls her into his lap, burying his face in her neck.

"I love you," he whispers quietly, like a prayer. "And I'm so very lucky to have you."

"Yeah?" Stiles asks. "You're not...you don't feel trapped because of me?"

"No, sweetheart, never," Peter murmurs against her skin.

Stiles sighs and relaxes into his hold, comforting and letting herself be comforted. The silence is only broken a few minutes later when there's a soft knock on the door.

"It's Lydia," Peter says, extricating himself from Stiles.

"Come in," Stiles calls.

Lydia lets herself in and closes the door quietly behind her.

"I think I know why Jackson is being such an ass," Lydia says.

"Because he was born that way," Stiles says.

Lydia ignores her.

"He's envious," Lydia says.

Stiles stares at her for a beat.

"Envious of what? Peter? Because I gotta say, that doesn't seem likely," Stiles says.

"Not of your relationship," Lydia says. "Jackson found his adoption records, did he tell you that?"

"No," Stiles says, though that's not a surprise since it's not like they're close.

"He did," Lydia says. "He was an unplanned pregnancy to a teenage mother who couldn't and didn't want to keep him. Then here there's you, this teenage mom-to-be with an unplanned pregnancy and you couldn't be happier. He's envious and...upset, I guess."

"It's still not a good reason to act like an ass," Stiles says.

"It's an explanation, not an excuse," Lydia says. "You're going to have to deal with Jackson sometime, and it's probably smarter to talk to him before the baby's born."

Stiles groans dramatically but knows that Lydia's right.

"Thanks," Stiles says. "I appreciate it."

Stiles bravely decides to ignore it until after Christmas. She doesn't want to taint the holiday by arguing with Jackson. Apparently the werewolf gods don't approve, because after she gets up at 2:00 am to pee, she suddenly has a desperate craving for ice cream that just can't wait. Half asleep, she stumbles into the kitchen and grabs a carton from the fridge a spoon before turning around to head to the breakfast bar.

"Gah!" she shouts, jumping back a few feet. Jackson's sitting at breakfast bar with his eyebrow raised. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Drinking," Jackson says, raising his mug. Stiles is pretty sure it's hot chocolate.

"Jesus Christ," she says, putting a hand over her racing heart. "Well I'm glad I already peed."

Jackson snorts at that.

"Have a seat," he says, pushing the chair out next to him.

"Uh, as much as I'd love to be called a gold digger again, I'm just gonna go back to my room," Stiles says.

"I'm trying to apologize, idiot," Jackson says.

"Okay, calling someone an idiot? Not an apology," Stiles says.

Jackson huffs and says, "Please," though it sound like it pains him to do so. Stiles eyes him suspiciously but sits next to him and digs a spoon into her ice cream.

"I'm listening," she says.

"I'm...bad at this," Jackson says. Stiles thinks she should get a damn medal for not saying 'no shit'. "I have some...things that I'm dealing with and I took out my feelings on you. And I'm sorry."

"I'm going to have a baby, Jackson," Stiles says quietly. "I don't want to be worried about her being around you."

"I would never hurt a kid," Jackson says, aghast.

"I know you wouldn't, but do you really think it won't affect her when she hears one of her pack members talking badly about her mom and dad? Do you really think she won't notice that you don't like her and hate her mom?" Stiles asks.

"I don't dislike her, I won't," Jackson says. "I don't hate you, Stiles." Stiles snorts. "I don't! I mean yeah, you can get annoying sometimes, and I don't trust Peter, but I don't hate you."

"You tell me you hate me at least once a month," Stiles points out.

"You tell me to fuck off at least once a month!"

"Because you make it clear that you hate me!"

Jackson lets out a harsh breath and scrubs a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm going to stop. It's...a bad habit. God, bad habit makes it sound even worse. I'm trying, okay?" Jackson says. "But I don't hate you, Stiles. I was jealous that you were close to Lydia and now you're having a baby when my birth parents didn't...I don't hate you."

"Okay," Stiles says softly. "I'll stop telling you to fuck off."

"I won't hate your daughter, either. I want...Look, I know I've been bad to you, but I want to earn your trust because I'll be your daughter's packmate and I want her to trust me and know I won't hurt her," Jackson says.

"You want to be Uncle Jackson?" Stiles gently teases, not wanting to scare this nice version of Jackson away. But Jackson nods seriously. "Really? Okay...well, we'll work on that then," Stiles says.

Jackson doesn't say anything but awkwardly pats her on the back. He reaches over the counter and comes back with a spoon. She glares as he dips his spoon into her ice cream.

"It's not smart to steal a pregnant woman's ice cream, you know," Stiles says.

"I'm not stealing, we're sharing. Come on, we had a moment," Jackson says and nudges her elbow. Stiles grumbles but doesn't fight it when he goes in for another spoonful.

Peter's awake when Stiles crawls back into bed a bit later. He opens his arms and she scoots closer, letting him wrap her up in his embrace.

"I'm guessing you heard all that?" Stiles asks.

"Mmhmm," Peter hums against the back of her neck.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I think I will never like him for how he's treated you," Peter says. "But it's smart to make peace."

"Look at you, all sane and smart," she teases.

"I also think we're getting up in a few hours and you need to go to sleep," Peter mumbles.

"But - "

"Sleep."

Stiles bites the finger he'd put over her lips to shush her, but eventually does let herself drift off so thoughts of Jackson actually acting like a human being.

Christmas morning doesn't have snow, to Stiles' eternal disappointment. But this is California, so it's not exactly a shock. Still, she's a little bummed. She perks up though when she gets downstairs and sees Derek already up and talking to her dad, both sipping coffee.

"Dad!" she says and pulls him into a hug. "Why didn't you wake me up? I didn't know you were here, sorry."

"It's okay, kiddo. You need all the sleep you can get," the sheriff says. "Merry Christmas."

"You too."

Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Cora are up soon after, the latter three moving like zombies, but Erica is bouncy and wide awake.

"Christmas, bitches! Okay Peter and I are making french toast, who wants blueberry and who wants chocolate chip?" Erica calls.

It's a bit bizarre to watch Peter work in the kitchen with someone else. Usually he barks orders when it's anyone other than Stiles with him, but he actually doesn't seem to mind working with Erica. They're not really in sync like Stiles and Peter are, but they have more practice. Peter watches as Erica whips up her recipe for french toast and she listens to his suggestion of adding a bit of flour to make it even fluffier. They even chat while they work, Peter telling her embarrassing stories about Stiles, and Erica filling him in on what's been going on in the pack that Scott either forgot to tell them or left out. Stiles grins.

They open presents after (a delicious) breakfast. Everyone is a little more awake and able to talk in more than just grunts. Derek wants everyone to open gifts one by one, but he loses control after about two minutes and it's just a free for all. Peter ends up with a lot of socks, which Stiles finds absolutely hilarious, from pack members that weren't sure what to get for him. Peter raises and eyebrow but Stiles can tell he's pleased. Peter has a weird thing for fun socks. The sheriff gives him a book for expectant fathers, a book that Peter already has, but Peter doesn't say that, just shakes the sheriff's hand and says thank you. The sheriff manages to not wince when Stiles kisses Peter and tells him that she loves him, so at least there's that.

Stiles and Allison force them all the watch Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York after they're done with gifts. The sheriff rolls his eyes, Stiles watches them all throughout the years, but doesn't complain. Stiles has the suspicion that he's just happy that she's including him in her life. Stiles feels a bit bad about that, but at the same time, he wasn't around a lot when she was growing up, so she understands why he's grateful.

They wait until the sheriff leaves that night for his shift to bring out the alcohol Derek had reluctantly bought and spiked with wolfsbane. Peter abstains from drinking since Stiles can't, which she finds sweet and amusing, but unnecessary. The rest of the pack has trickled in by that point and they exchange the rest of their gifts over another rousing game of Cards Against Humanity. Jackson is remarkably well behaved this time, something everyone seems surprised at, but no one comments on it, probably not wanting to jinx it.

Stiles falls asleep that night warm and content.

The rest of the holiday break passes in somewhat of a blur. The pack is all in one place for the last time for a while (probably until summer since a few of them are planning on traveling over spring break) and they seem to be wanting to do as much as they can and it's a bit of a whirlwind. Plus, now that Stiles can feel the baby move, it seems like that's all she ever wants to do. And, of course, press on Stiles' bladder. Peter's smart enough not to comment on the number of time she goes to the bathroom, but she still glares at him.

There's a scary moment right after New Years when Scott and Derek call to say that they came across the scent of another werewolf in town. Normally, this would be treated with wary caution, but the pack has been a bit frantic in their protection of Stiles since she fell pregnant and this stirs a bit of panic.

Isaac, Boyd, and Allison immediately leave to join Scott and Derek, while Erica and Jackson, the only ones at the house besides Peter and Stiles, run a perimeter around the house to make sure no one has come close before coming back to stand guard at the entrances. Lydia and Kira are over in less than ten minutes with strict orders to keep Stiles inside. Normally, Stiles would roll her eyes and tell them to fuck off, but she's suddenly extremely fearful for the life growing in her. She can tell Peter is torn between wanting to stay and protect her and wanting to go and tear apart the potential threat.

"I will eviscerate you if you even think about leaving right now," Stiles hisses.

It turns out that the poor wolf is just a middle aged woman passing through on her way to visit her daughter and had no idea that there's a pack established in Beacon Hills. Scott lets her go on her way and advises she contact them if she plans on passing through again so they won't be alarmed. All in all, it's a very anticlimactic end to the drama, but it leaves Stiles shaken. She'd been so focused on having a baby and how she'll parent that she hadn't considered how to protect her daughter. Their lives have been stressful and violent, how can she keep her safe?

Peter seems to have similar thoughts because he holds her close that night and vows, "I will keep you safe with everything that I am," whispering the words into the back of her neck. "I swear, I won't let anything bad happen to you. No one will take you away from me."

Stiles rolls over and buries her face in his chest, not knowing what to say. Usually she'd snark back, call him a creeper, but all she can do right now is be grateful that he's as viciously selfish as he is and knows that he'll be true to his word.

Stiles' first day of classes after break are brutal. It's officially winter and while they're in California, the average temperature in Palo Alto in January is 49 degrees and Stiles is really bitter about that. Normally the cold doesn't bother her, but having to layer up with the added bulk of her baby belly is making her grumpy.

"I look so fat," Stiles groans, shedding her jacket and flannel.

"You do not," Peter says, coming up behind her to kiss her neck. "You look like you're pregnant."

"And fat."

"Is there something wrong with fat people?" Peter teases.

"Well, no, but - "

"You're the one telling people off for fat-shaming," Peter reminds her.

"Well...yeah..."

"So what you're saying is that people's perceptions of you are bothering you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, my perception of you is a genius, beautiful, sexy woman. A gorgeous woman growing round with our child," Peter says, nipping at her throat.

Stiles groans.

"Okay," she says. "Okay, lets go with that."

Apparently, hitting the third trimester makes Stiles super horny. Go figure.

A couple weeks into the quarter, Kathy sends Stiles a picture of her son, captioned with 'Twenty hours of labor and baby Kevin came into the world!'

"If I'm in labor for twenty hours, I'm coming for your blood," Stiles threatens Peter.

It's the end of January when Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping Peter's name and clutching her belly. A wave of pain rolls over her and she gasps.

"Peter," she whimpers.

He's immediately awake at the panic in her voice. "What is it?" he asks, his hand coming to rest of the side of her neck.

She hisses in pain as another one hits.

"Peter, something's wrong, I don't know...Peter, it's too early..."

"It could just be Braxton Hicks," Peter says calmly, but she can see the fear he's trying to hide. "I'm going to get you sweats and shoes and we'll go to the hospital just to make sure, okay love?"

"Okay," she says shakily.

Stiles clutches at Peter's hand the whole drive.

They get incredibly lucky in that there is only one other person in the ER, a twenty-something-year-old guy holding what looks like a badly broken wrist. He takes one look at Stiles and says to the nurse checking them in, "I'm good, see her first."

They're ushered into a room relatively quickly, faster than Stiles had expected, though she wishes they would hurry it up a little bit.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Perry," their doctor says when he comes in. He's middle aged with thinning red hair and a superior attitude. Stiles dislikes him immediately and from the way Peter is standing, she's pretty sure they're in agreement there. "So you're having some pain, Miss Stilinksi?"

"Yes," Stiles says, and holds herself back from adding obviously, though she knows some of that attitude is her pain and fear.

"Can you describe it for me?" he asks

Stiles touches her lower abdomen and says, "It's like...it's like it's tightening and squeezing here. Like cramps but way worse."

"Does the pain come in waves or is it constant?"

"In waves."

"Are they getting longer, stronger, and closer together?" Dr. Perry asks.

"No, it's - ow - sporadic," Stiles says.

"Hmm," he says.

Dr. Perry examines her for a bit and asks her a few more questions. Peter is getting visibly more irritated and lets out a low growl that startles Dr. Perry.

"That was my stomach," Stiles says quickly and elbows Peter when Dr. Perry looks away.

"Well Miss Stilinski, I believe you are experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. They're mild contractions as a result of your uterus preparing for birth," Dr. Perry says.

"Have you seen Friends?" Stiles asks darkly. "'No uterus, no opinion'. Mild my fucking ass."

Dr. Perry looks a little flushed, but he continues. "Sometimes lying on your left side can help. If the bladder is full, that can sometimes cause Braxton Hicks contractions, so if you urinate, they may go away. Sex is also believed to be a cause. Right now, I think it's because you're dehydrated. We'll hook you up to an IV and see how that works out. If they get worse, longer, or closer together, that can be a sign of labor. If that happens, be sure to get to a hospital right away."

"Yep," Stiles says. "Got that part."

Dr. Perry steps out to get a nurse to get an IV set up and as soon as the door is closed, Peter is in her space, murmuring reassurances into ear as he hugs her and kisses her temple. Stiles sags against him. She'd known logically that Braxton Hicks was the mostly likely culprit, but she's pregnant and terrified, okay? She thinks she's earned the right to be a little nervous.

The nurse who comes in gives Peter and very obvious once over, which makes Stiles clear her throat loudly. The nurse at least has the grace to look embarrassed. They keep her hooked up until the IV is done, and by then, the contractions have stopped. Stiles is exhausted and if it weren't for Peter, she'd have just stumbled her way to the car. But Peter wraps and arm around her waist, letting her rest her head against his chest, and guides her to his Mercedes.

"Sorry for making you get up," Stiles says through a yawn.

"Don't ever be sorry, love," Peter says, squeezing her knee before starting the car.

"I'm going to be so fucked in classes tomorrow," she groans.

"Email your professors, I'm sure they'll understand if you were in the hospital all night," Peter says.

"Yeah, I probably should..."

That's the last thought Stiles has until Peter's easing her out of the car and carrying her into their apartment.

"What time's it?" she slurs.

"3:10," Peter says. He lays her down on the bed and kisses her forehead. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

"M'kay."

Stiles doesn't wake up until almost 11:00 am, and that's only because the neighbor they share a bedroom wall with apparently is feeling the nineties and starts blasting Blink182. She sleepily blinks her eyes open and sighs. God, she needs to call her doctor and give her a heads up. She needs to email her professors and her study group and -

"Good morning," Peter says from the doorway. He has a hot mug in his hand and she's pretty sure it's that decaf chai tea she's been drinking. She takes a second to really look at him, leaning against the door frame in nothing but jeans and a simple t-shirt. His hair isn't perfectly styled, he doesn't have shoes on, he's not trying to impress anyone. He's just looking at her with that soft smile and something inside her just clenches.

"Fuck, you're hot," she says.

That surprises a laugh out of Peter and he moves closer, setting the tea down on the nightstand so he can sit on the edge of the bed. He brushes a finger down the side of her face.

"You're right," he says solemnly. Stiles laughs and kicks at him. "It's okay, you're simply divine. Our child will be remarkably good looking."

"And modest, obviously."

"Of course. I called Dr. Warrick and told her everything Dr. Perry said. She's emailing over some additional literature for us if you're interested. I also emailed your professors to let them know you were in the hospital. They wish you well and hope to see you in class soon," Peter says.

Stiles would ask how he knows which professors she has, but that's a stupid question. Instead she hugs him.

"That's my creeper wolf," she says and smacks a kiss to his cheek. "So we have a three day weekend now. What do you want to do?"

"I was thinking we could drive up the coast and stay in San Francisco for a few nights," Peter says. "You mentioned wanting to a bit ago."

"Dude, let's do that. Like right now," Stiles says.

"Don't call me dude," Peter says. "And good, I already booked the room."

Stiles only needs about ten minutes to pack up for two nights then they're out the front door. Stiles debates calling her dad or Scott to tell them what happened, but in the end she decides against it. Nothing was really wrong, she's fine, there's nothing they need to know. She's always been weird about her health that way. If it wasn't devastatingly bad, like when she fell out of a tree and broke her arm in three places, she didn't need anyone to know about it. She'd quietly buy her DayQuil and go on with her life. Oh she would absolutely be pissed about it, but she didn't feel like being smothered or babied. Somehow, being taken care of by Peter doesn't feel like either of those things.

It takes about an hour to get to San Francisco with traffic, so they arrive early enough that they have time to get a late lunch before they check in. They eat at a Japanese restaurant and Stiles eyes the sushi longingly before ordering teriyaki. They're partway through their meal when there's a loud gasp behind her. Stiles turns around to see a short, compact women with a shock of blonde hair staring at them with her hand over her heart. Stiles looks back to Peter who looks decidedly uncomfortable before putting on his Peter Hale: Douchebag mask.

"Peter!" the blonde says and rushes over.

"Amanda," Peter says blandly.

He doesn't stand, but Amanda leans over and hugs him anyway, making sure to give him an ample look down her low cut top. Stiles mimes gagging behind Amanda and Peter rolls his eyes.

"What are you doing here? It's been ages!" Amanda simpers. Stiles' eyes don't miss the way she touches his arm.

"Stiles and I are here for the weekend," Peter says, trying to direct Amanda's attention away from him.

It doesn't work though. Amanda just look confused and asks, "What's Stiles?"

"Hi, over here, y-ello, that's me," Stiles says.

Amanda finally turns to her and is obviously not very impressed with what she sees. Which, excuse her.

"Well if you're in town long, we should get dinner!"

"I'm here for the weekend with Stiles," Peter repeats slowly, as if talking to a particularly dim child. "So I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Really," Amanda says flatly, the bubbliness from her personality gone. "Her?"

"What are you, twelve?" Stiles asks incredulously.

"Honey, between the two of us, you're the one that looks underage," Amanda says.

Stiles doesn't know what her face does but it makes Amanda falter a bit and Peter hastily interrupts with, "Well anyway, we're going to be finishing our lunch now."

Amanda huffs but walks away, swaying her hips a bit more than necessary in Stiles' opinion.

"So, we're ruling Amanda out as a possible baby name," Stiles mutters, picking at her food.

Peter snorts but doesn't go back to his noodles.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"Yeah, fine," Stiles says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, just hungry," Stiles says, but it's hard to meet his eyes. Amanda is everything Stiles isn't. Stiles doesn't have giant breasts and a European supermodel's face. Stiles doesn't have the tiny, cute pixie look. She's long and lanky and...just not.

Peter doesn't try to pry her out of her mood, probably knowing that if he tries, he'll just make it worse. They finish the meal in relative silence before walking across the street to the hotel. Unfortunately, it doesn't get better there. Stiles is zoning out, letting Peter deal with the reservations, until she hears what the front desk lady is saying.

"We do have an upgraded suite available if you and your daughter would like adjoining rooms," the lady, her nametag says 'Barbara', says.

Peter opens his mouth but Stiles beats him to it.

"I am his girlfriend, not his daughter," Stiles hisses. "We want a room with one bed because we're going to fuck a lot while looking out the window at the damn ocean."

Peter's lips are pursed together like he's trying very hard not to smile. Barbara's jaw is hanging open.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend," she stammers. "Here's your key, uh, your room number is 767."

"Brilliant," Stiles says and snatches the keys from her hand, storming over to the elevators and leaving Peter to grab their bags.

They're both silent until they get into the room and Peter sets the bags down.

"Should I assume we're striking Barbara from the theoretical baby names list also?" Peter asks.

"Fuck Barbara," Stiles snaps.

"Come here," Peter says.

Stiles glares, but lets Peter draw her into a hug. He rubs soothing hands up and down her back and kisses the top of her head.

"Don't bottle it up, tell me. I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong," Peter says.

"Barbara's a bitch," Stiles mumbles into his shirt.

Peter snorts out a laugh.

"I'm sure she is," Peter says.

"Amanda's a bitch, too."

"Oh, she definitely is," Peter says. "Is what she said bothering you?"

"Does it bother you?" Stiles asks, pulling back enough to be able to look up at him. "Is it going to wear on you every day having people look at us like that? Have the preschool moms gossip about us?"

"It doesn't bother me," Peter says. "Well, it bothers me because it bothers you. But on its own, I don't care."

"Why?" Stiles asks.

"Because I get you," Peter says. "They get their boring lives and shitty kids, and I get you."

"Did you two date?"

"Barbara isn't my type."

"Ass," Stiles says, but she's smiling slightly. "You and Amanda."

"If you want to call two months of casual sex dating," Peter says.

"She's very...not like me."

"Which is why she and I aren't together."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Peter says. He tilts her face up with a finger under her chin and kisses her softly. "Don't let her ruin our weekend."

"Okay," Stiles says. "Okay."

"Now, I think you said something about fucking while looking at the ocean?"

They do fuck on the huge king-sized bed with the french doors leading the balcony flung wide open. (Stiles doesn't want to think about how much this hotel costs per night.) After, they soak in the giant claw foot tub, Stiles' back resting against Peter's chest. Peter gently washes her skin, taking his time to rub soap between each finger, up her hand, dragging fingers the length of her arm. Rinse, repeat. He spends lots of time washing her aching breasts, then massaging them gently. Stiles moans, going completely limp in his arms.

"Don't stop, that was a good moan," she says when Peter's hands pause.

Her breasts have been killing her lately. She's already gone up a cup size and won't be shocked if she gains more. Peter loves it, he loves massaging her aches away and pressing gentle kisses to her breasts, murmuring filth about how perfect she was, how lovely her breasts look, swollen and filling with milk. She can't wait to see what he does when she actually starts to lactate. The way he's taken to sucking on her nipples and kneading her flesh makes her think he'll be overjoyed.

"Oh?" Peter says. His veins turn black, pulling pain, but he doesn't stop massaging her. His thumbs flick over her nipples, making Stiles arch her back into his hands. His grin feels sharp against her neck. "That's it," he murmurs.

"Peter," she sighs.

Stiles trails a hand through the water down between her legs, teasing at her folds. Her clit is hard and aching, even though they had sex only an hour ago. Peter's hard against her ass, so at least it isn't just her. She rocks back against him all while rubbing at her clit, soft circles meant to draw out the pleasure. They aren't loud, both breathing harshly, but not screaming. Peter twists at her nipples and Stiles cries out, moving her hand faster.

"That's it, sweet girl," Peter says, rolling his hips against her, his erection sliding against the curve of her ass. "Come on, come for me."

Stiles throws her head back onto Peter's shoulder and he immediately nibbles at her neck like he's unable to deny himself such an offering. Stiles moves her hand faster and faster until she's coming on her fingers, gasping and twitching in Peter's arms. Peter groans and ruts against her for another minute or so before he too stills, his cock pulsing behind her.

"Mm, as much as I love you, we need to shower now," Stiles says.

"Why?" Peter asks, wrapping his arms around her.

"Because I am literally bathing in your jizz," Stiles says. Peter tightens his arms around her and growls a little in her ear. "Absolutely not. Shower."

Peter grumbles but helps her up anyway. She knows the next time they fuck he'll smear his cum on her skin anyway, so it's not like he's actually missing anything.

The next day, they go to Fisherman's Wharf on Pier 39. Stiles drags him into literally every store before they sit and eat ice cream while looking at the sea lions. Peter takes her to the aquarium next. It's busy, like they'd both expected for a Saturday, but Stiles doesn't care. She stands in the underwater tunnel, looking up through the glass. Fish and sharks and rays swim overhead and Stiles is full of the same childlike wonder as when she was a kid and had first been able to really comprehend what the ocean is. She's grinning as a huge ray sweeps next to the side of the tunnel, right at eye level. When she looks next to her, she sees Peter not watching the water, but watching her.

"What?" she asks.

"You're fun to watch," Peter says.

"What? Why?" Stiles asks.

"Because you can stare down death in the face more times than I can count without flinching," Peter says. "And yet you still retain the ability to wonder at the world around us. It's...pure."

"I've been called a lot of things, Peter. Pure isn't one of them," Stiles says, but she's trying not to smile. Peter obviously knows too because he just slings an arm around her and squeezes her to his side.

"Sure, my little hellion."

They get burgers for dinner, because Stiles has a craving, then head to bed relatively early. Peter lies behind her, massaging her back and draining the aches and pains from her day. Her back, feet, and ankles are killing her, and she knows it's only going to get worse. Right now though, she lets Peter ease her aches and she drifts off.

This quarter is already harder than Stiles' first at Stanford. Everyday she gets blatant stares from people as she walks by or in her class, even though they've been in the same class with her for almost two months already. Stiles finds herself missing Kathy. At least she had someone to commiserate with. But Kathy is taking the rest of the year off to be with her newborn and won't be back until the fall, so Stiles is alone. It'd be helpful if Stiles' baby could stop squirming while she's in the middle of her psychology lecture. Or if she'd stop pressing on her bladder when she's in the middle of tests. But whatever. And fuck everyone that says otherwise, pregnancy brain is real, okay? She's suddenly so forgetful and has the worst brain fart moments that she's getting close to throwing things.

"You can always withdraw for the quarter," Peter suggests one night when she's been staring at her psychology textbook for ten minutes without comprehending a word.

"No," Stiles says. "If Kathy can do this, I can do this."

"Stiles..."

"I finishing this quarter, Peter!" Stiles snaps.

Peter doesn't bring it up again.

Once she'd hit the third trimester, Stiles' doctor appointments became one every two weeks. She's extremely glad that Peter is okay driving because she usually conks out and ends up drooling. She specifically made sure not to take any Friday classes on purpose so she can keep the day free for appointments, but the drive back and forth is still exhausting.

Cora comes to visit in the end of February when Stiles has a four day weekend thanks to Presidents' Day. Stiles is feeling like a planet by then. She's six months along, but she personally thinks it looks like more. She's a small girl with a slight frame, and the baby bump is extremely obvious. She naps for a lot of Saturday, which she apologizes for, but Cora waves her away.

"You're growing a human," Cora says. "Naps are pretty standard."

They take Cora out to eat at a local pizza joint they like. They leave again pretty quickly because a drunk frat guys slaps Cora's ass. She breaks his wrist and they hightail it out of there. They grab Thai takeout and head back to the apartment, which Stiles prefers anyway. She's feeling a bit like a hermit lately. Peter had teased her about nesting instincts.

"Have you decided on names?" Cora asks through a mouthful of crispy garlic chicken. "I hear Cora works pretty well."

"We considered naming her after someone," Peter says, the name Claudia going unsaid, "but we decided against it."

"That's a lot of a weight on a kid's shoulders," Stiles says. "I don't want her feeling like she has to live up to or compete with someone's memory."

"Makes sense. Damn, I was looking forward to Dereka," Cora says.

Stiles almost snorts her rice.

"Or Scottia?" Stiles asks.

"Sounds like an STD," Cora says.

"Oh god, it does," Stiles says. "You've ruined his name for me forever."

"Every time you say Scotty, you think of me from now on," Cora says, saluting her with her chop sticks.

"Fuck."

Stiles knows that the baby isn't capable of higher brain functions yet, but Stiles swears she likes Cora. The baby kicks a lot when Cora is touching Stiles' belly, and does a weird wiggle when Cora's singing in the morning. Cora even reads a book to her belly, looking a bit embarrassed, but saying that she heard that it might help.

"Peter reads to her all the time," Stiles says.

"No way," Cora says.

"Yeah," Stiles says. "When he gets back from the store, he can tell you himself."

"What does he read?" Cora asks.

"Well, he started by proofreading my essays and pointing out all the times I fucked up," Stiles says wryly. Cora laughs. "Then he noticed that the baby moves more when she hears his voice, so he started doing it more. He has a stack of Dr. Seuss books somewhere around here."

"Wow," Cora says, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"Was he not like that when you were a kid?" Stiles asks.

"Kind of...I mean, he was always Cool Uncle Peter. We could go to him for homework help, or if we had a problem we didn't want to ask our parents about. He let me drive his car when I was eight," Cora says.

"He what?!"

"In the front yard, I was on his lap," Cora says and Stiles' heartbeat goes back to normal. "So I guess it's not really a stretch...but he never really had a girlfriend or anyone around. He was all about pack and family, but never really seemed like he wanted a family of his own. So it's kind of mind blowing to see him like this and so happy."

"I'm glad he's happy," Stiles says. "I couldn't do this without him. Well, I could, because I'm a stubborn ass, but I don't want to."

"He smells happy," Cora says. "It probably sucks that we can smell and hear everything about you and you can't about us, but he does smell content." Stiles gets a goofy grin and Cora groans. "You two are so sickeningly in love, it's disgusting."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'd be a big fucking liar," Stiles says.

Stiles is actually sad to see Cora go. She's heading back to South America but promises to come visit after the baby is born.

"Baby Cora, think about it."

"No."

Stiles hates this quarter, okay? She fucking hates it. She's tired, her brain hurts, and one of her professors is one of the most dull people she's ever met, not to mention WRONG half of the time. She's soooo glad she's paying so much money for this. It seems to be dragging on forever, or maybe that's just her brain lagging. Peter does his best to help, but it's not like he can sit in on lectures for her.

"I'm sorry," she ends up crying one night. "I'm trying, I promise, I just, I, I..."

Peter holds her until she stops crying, letting her get out what she needs to. Her tears and snot stain his shirt but he doesn't seem to care.

"Sorry," she says when she's finally done. Her voice is hoarse from crying and her head hurts. "That was stupid."

"Pregnancy brain," Peter says and Stiles snorts a laugh. "You have a lot on your plate. It's okay to need to let it out."

"Still," she says. "It feels stupid."

"No one can make you feel stupid without your consent."

"Okay, first, that is not how the quote goes, you heathen. Second, you make people feel stupid without their consent all the time. Making people feel stupid is kind of your thing."

"One of my things. I'm a man of many talents."

"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick."

Another thing that happens while Stiles is studying is Peter starts Skyping with Erica. She had been nervous at first about coming to him about his offer, but once she broke the ice and he made it clear that he is willing to help her go over any questions she has about starting a business, she opens right up. Stiles likes watching Peter like this. He's in his element. Instructing, but not unnecessarily criticizing. He gives Erica facts, and helpfully nudges her down the path the right conclusion. Erica thrives under the one-on-one attention, always taking notes and asking questions that sometimes Stiles hadn't even thought of. After a few very long conversations, Stiles thinks Peter's become invested in the project himself, wanting to make sure he does everything he can to make it succeed. Stiles loves him just a little bit more for it.

How she makes it through finals, she'll never know. She spends most of her nights going over her notes, her feet in Peter's lap while he massages away their aches. He makes sure she snacks regularly and drinks enough water. She snaps at him once that he isn't her dad, she doesn't need him to micromanage her food. As soon as she says it, she's crawling into his lap and apologizing because fuck hormones, she didn't mean that. Peter takes it good stride, but she can tell he's looking forward to her being done with school.

After her last final, Peter and Stiles pack a few suitcases with their necessities. They're going back to Beacon Hills for spring and most of summer so Stiles can have the baby and have the pack around her before they head back up to Palo Alto for school in the fall. As much as neither of them like the idea of just leaving their place unattended, they also hate the idea of a house sitter, so Peter arranges for the landlord to drop by occasionally and check on everything for them.

The thing about being back in Beacon Hills is that while she likes having her friends and dad around her, she also misses their place in Palo Alto. She misses it just being her and Peter. She loves Derek, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, but living with them full-time is a bit much. Stiles had gotten used to her privacy and for her and Peter to be able to do whatever they want. She isn't used to grossed out faces when they smell sex on her and Peter. She isn't used to having to write her name on food or risk it being devoured by hungry mouths (that only happens once and she puts a stop to it real fast). To mix it up, Stiles and Peter stay at the sheriff's house a few nights, but it's just too awkward still. Stiles doesn't know how people can deal with their parents talking to people that they know have had sex with their kids, even though they're adults. Too weird.

Speaking of, Peter gets to be quite obnoxious about sex.

"I don't want to hurt either of you, Stiles."

"The doctor said everything is fine and it's okay to have sex!" Stiles says. "I'm not going to die if you stick your dick in me."

"Still..."

"Oh my god."

Luckily, he will massage and play with her breasts, joyfully, and finger her to orgasm. Like she'd predicted, Peter is ecstatic when her milk comes in. He loves teasing her nipples with his tongue and teeth, watching her milk drip from her nipples. It's a kink she hadn't known she'd had, and yet another one she shares with him. In general, he can't seem to stop touching her, though. When they lie in bed at night, he always finds the line where her swollen stomach meets her hip, tracing it with his hand like it's the sexiest thing in the world. Maybe it is to him. Peter has always been big on scenting, on running a hand over her when she walks by, but the last few months of her pregnancy have been ridiculous. In the middle of cooking dinner, he'll back her up against the fridge, cage her in, and just nuzzle the side of her throat for however long he likes. One time it takes five minutes until he's satisfied. Stiles lets him, it doesn't bother her. Actually, a lot of her likes it.

By the time April hits, she is as big as a damn blimp and about 5000% done with being pregnant. The back aches, the resurgence of Braxton Hicks contractions, the swollen feet and ankles, the constant need to pee, all of it. Done. Ready. The bun needs to exit her oven right fucking now. She can't say that though, because she's at the Beacon Gardens, which is decked out in beautiful purples and blues for her baby shower, courtesy of Lydia. Contrary to tradition, Stiles doesn't make it women only. The whole pack in there, including the sheriff and Melissa.

"This baby better be damn cute," Stiles grumbles. The baby had just kicked her hard in the kidney right in the middle of unwrapping Scott's present (a bunch of bibs and onesies with wolf faces on them. Stiles loves them.).

"She's going to look like us, she's going to be gorgeous," Peter assures her.

The pack really went all out for gifts. They aren't going to need to buy nearly anything to get the nursery ready. Derek has a surprised for them in that part, too. He passes Stiles an envelope and when she opens it, she's confused for a second. It's a picture of a nursery, completely decked out with a beautiful mural.

"Okay," Stiles says slowly. "It's beautiful but...wait, is this Isaac's room?"

"Yeah," Isaac says. "We did some shuffling."

"Boyd and I don't really need a room each," Erica says. "So we combined our stuff in mine."

"And I took Erica's," Isaac says.

"Which leaves Isaac's room, the one next to you and Peter's, free," Derek finishes. "This is your nursery. So you know you're always welcome."

Stiles, who's been on the verge of tears all day with everything everyone has done for her, does cry then, which makes Derek look panicked before he realizes it's because she's happy. She motions for him to come over because she's the size of a duplex and wants a hug but doesn't want to get up to do it. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd hug her too. She motions to Peter to get their gift ready so she can wipe at her eyes.

"We wanted to give you all something too," Peter says. He reaches behind the table and comes back with two big bags, all full of noise-canceling headphones. "I can guarantee you, if our baby is anything like Stiles, she will be loud."

"Hey!"

"And we want you to still like us," Peter says. "Well, her more than me. But you know."

Everyone laughs and Peter passes out the headphones, making sure to hand Scott, Kira, and Erica hot pink pairs, knowing it's all their favorite color. Stiles tries not to cry at that, too. Fuck, her emotions are a fucking mess.

"And for cake..." Erica says, bring out a large, bright blue cake box. On top it has a little graphic that Stiles is pretty sure Kira made. It's a blonde woman in an oversized baking hat with 'ERICA'S' on it. Underneath is the quote 'We've Got Buns, Hun!'

"Is this...did you...?" Stiles asks.

"We finished all the paperwork last week," Erica says with a grin. "I wanted you to have the first cake officially made in ERICA'S BAKERY."

"I'm so happy for you, congratulations!" Stiles says. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Erica says.

"Color me surprised," Stiles says.

"It's all thanks to Peter and Derek," Erica says.

"You're the baker," Peter says. "I was just a sounding board."

"Whatever," Erica says, rolling her eyes.

Stiles is about to take another bite of her cake, which is double chocolate with raspberry filling and fucking delicious, when she gets another twinge in her abdomen.

"Ouch," she says, pressing a hand to her belly.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks immediately.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think it's more Braxton Hi - "

Before Stiles can even finish her sentence, she feels the strangest almost popping sensation, then wetness flooding out from between her thighs.

"Oh my god!" Scott shouts.

"I think my water just broke," Stiles says in shock.

"Uh, yeah!" Scott says. "It looks like it!"

"Hold on sweetie," Melissa says, running over. "Have you been feeling any pain or contractions?"

"I thought they were Braxton Hicks!" Stiles says. Peter has a death grip on her hand.

"Okay honey, you're going into labor. We're going to get you to a hospital and everything will be fine," Melissa says. Stiles knows she's using her nursing voice, the voice she uses on patients that she thinks are going to panic, which is good because Stiles is about to FUCKING PANIC.

Peter carries her to the car and sets her in the backseat, Melissa sliding in beside her, before he gets into the driver's seat and takes off toward to the hospital.

"Talk to me, Stiles," Peter says, his eyes never leaving the road even though Stiles can tell he wants to look back at her.

"I'm okay, no contractions right now," Stiles says. She's breathing harshly, still scared, but she has Melissa and Peter and those are the two people she trusts most with this.

"Tell me when you have one," Melissa says. "We need to know how far apart they are."

"Okay," Stiles says. "Has someone called Dr. Warrick?"

"I told Derek to," Peter says.

Stiles doesn't have another contraction until she's in a wheelchair at the hospital, almost fifteen minutes since her first one. Dr. Warrick is waiting for them and Stiles feels some of the tension in her loosen. Peter helps her into the hospital gown when they're given a room and eases her into the bed. Normally she'd hate it, but she's grateful for the help. They're both extremely disappointed that Deaton had cautioned against Peter taking Stiles' pain while she's in labor, worried that it might confuse her body and cause complications. At the time, Stiles had told Peter that it would be okay, but he'd pointed out how he'd fully wolfed out when he smelled the blood from her paper cut the week before. So yeah, he's not going to enjoy knowing she's in pain and he can do nothing to stop it.

Dr. Warrick tells them that Stiles' cervix is only dilated four centimeters and as of now, it's a waiting game until it's to ten centimeters. An hour passes and some of her panic has worn off. Even though they allow Melissa to come into the room and visit them, nurse's privilege, she isn't a maternity nurse and can't stay with them the whole time. Stiles isn't entirely sure how she feels about that. She does appreciate that Melissa lets them know that the pack is in the waiting room, including Stiles' dad who keeps trying to get updates from the nurses. Stiles gives Melissa her blessing to pass an update to her dad.

Two hours pass and she's only dilated to five centimeters. Three hours, four hours, five hours, and she finally gets to eight centimeters.

"It won't be too long, Stiles," Dr. Warrick promises her.

Stiles hates this. So much hate. Intellectually, she'd known that a long labor was most likely with a first time mother, but she'd always just kind of assumed that she'd beat the odds, like she tends to in everyday life. But nope, this has to be one of the times the universe just gives her the middle finger. She thinks if Peter weren't a werewolf, she might have broken his hand with how hard she's been squeezing it during her contractions. She's had an epidural but this still fucking hurts, okay? She hovers at nine centimeters for about an hour, when finally she gets to ten.

Dr. Warrick and her team are in the room. They ask Peter if he wants to leave the room or stay and he nearly flashes fangs at them all. Peter grips Stiles' hand, offering what support he can.

"This is your fault," Stiles wheezes after Dr. Warrick has her try pushing.

"I know, love," Peter says, wiping the sweat from her brow and pushing her hair back from her face. "You're doing so well, our little girl is lucky to have you."

"We are absolutely having no more kids, this bullshit is - ow!"

"Okay, I need you to push now, Stiles!" Dr. Warrick says.

Stiles groans in pain and relief when the baby passes through her birth canal and is finally out. Dr. Warrick cleans her off quickly before placing her on Stiles' chest, wanting as much skin-to-skin contact with her as possible. Stiles is crying and she doesn't remember when she started, but she can't stop.

"She's so beautiful," she gasps.

"She is," Peter says, sounding hoarse.

The baby has a tuft of dark hair on her head and is crying too, but when she finally opens her eyes, they're as bright blue as Peter's and Stiles loves them immediately. She loves her immediately. She's never felt anything like this connection in her entire life and while she'd die for Peter, she'd kill for her daughter.

Thankfully, the afterbirth passes in a few minutes (Stiles is so grossed out) and Peter and Stiles can marvel at their little girl. Stiles is exhausted mentally and physically, so she doesn't fight too much when they temporarily whisk the baby away to clean her up more and check her over. Peter hovers over the doctor's shoulder the entire time until his daughter is bundled up in a blanket and little beanie and passed back to him. Peter looks ridiculously attractive with a baby cradled in his arms.

"You can sleep now," Peter murmurs to Stiles. "We'll be here when you wake up."

Stiles doesn't want to sleep, not now that her daughter is finally here, but she really is truly exhausted.

"But..."

"You did a marvelous thing today, my love," Peter says. "You're so strong and so brave. You've earned rest."

Stiles falls asleep to the sound of Peter humming to their little girl.

When she wakes, the room is dark. Peter is in the chair next to her bed, his head pillowed by his arms on her bed. The baby's bassinet is next to him. Stiles surveys them quietly, her little family. She can't believe how lucky she is to be able to have this. She runs a hand through Peter's hair but he barely stirs. It makes something in Stiles swell with affection that he's able to relax like this with her. Stiles lets him sleep and drifts off again soon after.

Her dad and the pack are allowed in the room one at a time in the morning. The sheriff cries when he gets to hold the baby. He even hugs Peter once the baby is back in Stiles' arms. Everyone cries, actually. Even Jackson sheds a tear. He denies it, but Stiles knows what she saw.

"We still need a name for her," Peter says when they're alone.

"We had it narrowed down to Emmeline and Amelia, right?" Stiles says. "I think she looks like an Emmeline."

"I do too," Peter says. "Emmeline Stilinski."

"Emmeline Stilinski-Hale," Stiles says.

Peter beams at her and kisses her forehead. He runs a finger down the cheek of their sleeping baby.

"Emmeline Stilinski-Hale," he breathes.

They're released from the hospital later in the day. Peter drives exceptionally slowly and cautiously. Normally, Stiles would tease him for driving like a grandpa, but she's 100% on board with caution when Emmeline is concerned. The whole pack is waiting for them at the house, congratulating them quietly to make sure Emmeline doesn't wake up. The nursery, which Stiles had only seen the picture of at the baby shower, is beautiful. It's done in a soft grays with a mural of a forest on one wall. There's a wolf, a fox, a few rabbits. Stiles smirks at the wolf's bright blue eyes, the exact same shade as Peter's. Stiles suspects it's Isaac's handiwork.

Peter and Stiles stand in the nursery doorway, wrapped around each other for a long time, just watching Emmeline sleep. Peter's arms are around around Stiles and she's leaning back into his chest, he cheek nuzzling at hers.

"I love you," Peter says. "I love you both so much."

"You won't lose us," Stiles says, addressing his unspoken fear, the fear he's had her entire pregnancy. "You have us. We're here."

Peter hugs her tighter and Stiles clings to his arms.

"She's going to be completely spoiled," Peter says. "An entire pack of people waiting to dote on her."

"Do you think she'll be a werewolf?" Stiles asks.

Peter shrugs.

"I don't know. Do you want her to be?" he asks.

"Not really, I'll love her either way," Stiles says. "I won't lie though, the idea of her being more...durable is appealing."

"Either way, she'll be strong," Peter says.

"Why, because she has you as a dad?" Stiles teases.

"Because she has you for a mom," Peter answers.

Stiles turns in his arms and tucks her head under his chin.

"We've got this, right?" she asks quietly.

"Yes," Peter says. "We've got this."