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"Daddy," a small voice whispers, and Derek can't tell if it's his niece or nephew. He's still not used to them calling him that, but he's the only parent they've ever really known.
Derek lays completely still, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to sleep. His alarm is set for six. It has yet to go off, but Lexie and Ren have been up for at least twenty minutes. He heard them talking through the wall separating their bedrooms.
Hazards of werewolf hearing. Though Derek's usually good at tuning out any and all background noise—turning his hearing off, as others might say—it's difficult when it comes to them.
Nearly six years later and Derek's still not sure why Laura and her husband left him custody of their kids in their will. Of course, he assumes it's because they hoped nothing would ever happen to them. But, if something did, they didn't want to disrupt the kids' lives even more by moving them across the country, from New York to California.
"Daddy." The voice is a little louder now, jarring him from his thoughts. Derek recognizes it—his ten-year-old niece, Lexie. "We heard you snoring."
Of course, they're playing their favorite game of standing next to him while he sleeps and talking shit about him. He continues playing possum.
Also, he doesn't fucking snore.
"Daddy always looks so funny when he sleeps." Lexie got the game started. "Don't you think?"
"Yes." That's Ren, his eight-year-old nephew. "He makes grumpy faces."
"And weird breathing noises."
"Yeah. And he's so hairy."
"Daddy's not that hairy," Lexie whispers defensively. "Just some right there."
Since the blankets are at his waist, Derek imagines her little finger pointing at his chest, although they often make fun of his hairy legs and scruffy jaw.
"Yeah, but have you ever seen his armpits?" Ren asks. "They're super hairy."
Just to mess with them, Derek flops one arm over his head, putting one hairy armpit on display.
"Ew." Lexie giggles. "You're right. Gross."
"I'm never getting tattoos," Ren whispers. They're both fascinated and horrified by the ink on Derek's arms and chest.
"Me neither."
"Why would anyone let someone draw on them with a needle?"
"I dunno."
"You could just use a permanent marker and it wouldn't hurt."
"That's a good idea," Lexie says enthusiastically. "Let's do that later."
Derek's about to sit up and inform them there will be no fucking tattoos given with permanent markers on his watch when Ren says, "Let's poke him."
One of them jabs a bony finger into his ribs.
Derek growls. It's long and low but definitely lacks any malice. It's not like he'd ever harm either of them. He opens one eye, raising a brow at them. "Don't you know you shouldn't bother a sleeping 'wolf?"
"She did it." Ren points to his sister. Lexie sticks her tongue out at him.
The hallway light illuminates them from behind, casting a glow over their messy hair and rumpled pajamas—Ren's has cars all over it, and Lexie's has a mermaid on the front. Derek can't see their feet, but he knows Lexie's are bare, and Ren has socks on because he hates being barefoot, especially in winter.
"What do you want?" Derek grabs the covers and pulls them over his head. "I'm hibernating."
"Hibernation is for bears," Ren says, giggling. "You're not a bear, daddy."
"Yeah, you're just sleeping."
"Am I?" Derek mumbles from beneath the blanket.
"Well, you were."
"And do you know why I was sleeping?" From beneath the covers, Derek reaches over to the nightstand and taps his phone screen. "Because it's not even five-fucking-a.m., and that is what normal people do at this hour."
"Auntie Cora says you're not 'posed to say that word around us," Ren reminds him.
"Yeah, well, Auntie Cora's not here, now is she?" Gah! Remembering not to curse is still so hard. Derek's always sworn like a sailor.
"Can we get up now, Daddy?" Lexie tugs the blankets impatiently.
"No. It's too early." Derek doesn't point out that it's also still dark out. Christ, when did they start waking up before the sun rose?
"But we can't sleep." Lexie hops onto his bed, climbs over him, and gets under the covers. "We're too excited about moving."
"Oh." Honestly, Derek's kind of excited about it too. He misses Beacon Hills. He'd only gone to New York for school and meant to come home once he graduated, but then Laura died. He only stayed after graduating to give the kids a sense of stability since it was the only home they'd ever known.
"Will Santa know to bring our presents to the new house?" Ren asks as he scrambles up onto the bed too. "We didn't tell him we were moving in the letters."
Derek remembers the day he sent out their Christmas letters.
It was only two weeks ago, and they were out at the mall. Though it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet, the stores were fully decorated for Christmas, complete with Mariah Carey blasting through the speakers. At least it wasn't Alvin and the Chipmunks anymore.
One shop boasted about mailing out a Christmas wish list for Santa. Lexie and Ren insisted on writing one immediately so they could send it. Since Derek could never say no to their big, pleading eyes, he took them to the food court so they could. Somehow—please refer to those damn eyes—they convinced him to write one too.
He felt ridiculous when he stuffed all three envelopes into Santa's mailbox. Especially when Ren made sure to—loudly—ask if Derek put his letter in the box too. Derek glanced around, heat rising in his cheeks when he noticed the bemused expression of an older woman watching them.
"Yes," he gritted out between clenched teeth, and their wide smiles were worth the embarrassment.
So much has changed since then. While Derek loves New York, lately, it's felt like something was missing. He's not sure why he wrote that in his letter to Santa, but he did, and it's been like a domino effect ever since. Normally, his mom and sister, Cora, came to New York for the holidays, but his mom asked if he'd bring the kids to Beacon Hills instead. They spent Thanksgiving there and made plans to return for Christmas, making the kids wonder why they lived in New York when grandma and Auntie Cora lived in Beacon Hills.
Isaac, his sister's boyfriend, let him know there happened to be an opening at his fire station.
It was like destiny.
Since the kids were excited, he decided to make the move. Initially, he'd planned on waiting until the end of the school year, but then his mom found a cute little rental near the schools and the fire station. The kids had such a hard time leaving after Thanksgiving and begging to go back that he opted to pull the kids out of school a week early and move over Christmas break. They'll spend Christmas at his mom's and then take the rest of their break to settle in their new place.
"Santa always knows where we are, Rennie." Lexie reaches over and pats him on the head. "Just like he knows when we're naughty or nice, remember?"
"Yeah, but we're gonna be livin' somewhere new."
Derek pulls them both against him. "Don't worry, Santa will know," he says, kissing the tops of their heads. "Now listen." He yawns loudly. "I know you guys are excited, but I promise it's still going to be that way in a few hours, so let's try to get some more sleep, okay?"
"Can we sleep in here?" Ren asks, covering his yawn.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
Of course not.
"Okay. But go turn off the light first."
Ren dutifully gets out of bed, switches off the light, and hurries back under the covers.
"And you have to actually sleep, okay? No talking," Derek orders.
"Okay," they agree.
Stretching out on his back, Derek closes his eyes, knowing the silence won't last. Sure enough, only a few seconds go by before Ren speaks up. "Daddy, can we please ride in the truck?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it won't be comfortable. You guys will fly ahead with Aunt Cora while I drive the truck to grandma's."
"What about when you get there?" Lexie asks, her voice full of hope.
"We'll see. Now go to sleep."
Ren sits up and pats Derek's cheek. "We're only stayin' at grandma's house tempered-raridly, right?"
"Temporarily. And yes, we're only staying with her until after Christmas."
"Daddy?" Now it's Lexie.
"Hmm."
"I was wondering." Which is not surprising. She's always wondering about something. She asks more questions than anyone Derek's ever known and never accepts an answer she doesn't like.
"It's too early for wondering," Derek tells her. "No wondering before six a.m. Those're the rules."
"You can't just turn off wondering, daddy." The duh is implied. "It's not like a TV."
"Can I at least mute it?" Derek says. It's followed by immediate guilt when Lexie takes his arm, hugging it close like a stuffed animal, and whispers, "Okay."
God, he has no idea what the fuck he's doing. He's pretty sure Laura and Warren wouldn't dismiss their kids like this. Though he's been told he's doing a decent job, Derek knows he swears too much, burns dinner too often, and can't get Lexie's pigtails even to save his life.
With a heavy sigh, he reminds himself that he's trying his best. And, somehow, despite the charred hamburgers and constant F-bombs, Lexie and Ren like being with him. They tell him that they love him and even call him daddy.
On one side of him, Ren snuggles closer and brings his knees up, jabbing Derek painfully in the hip. On the other side, Lexie slaps a hand on his chest and accidentally kicks him as she gets comfortable. But they're breathing, which means he's successfully kept two small people alive for another day.
He considers that a victory.
(a week later - the day after Christmas)
It's eight a.m. when Derek finally hustles the kids out his mom's front door—only slightly behind schedule. As anxious as they are to see the new place, they dawdle like it's an Olympic sport.
It's been one hell of a morning already.
It took Derek a solid twenty minutes of working on the gum in Lexie's hair before he gave up and cut it out, and then Ren wasn't able to find his lucky penny. After turning the guest room upside down and mopping up his tears—"but you gave me that lucky penny on my first day of school last year, and I need it for this year too, or else I won't be okay!"—Derek promised him that they'd come back and look for it later since they had to get going in order to unload the truck on time. He was still sobbing as Derek hurried them to the parking lot, where Lexie tripped and skinned her knee.
Now they're both crying.
Derek kind of wants to cry too.
And while he knows none of it was his fault, he can't help but think, Best. Dad. Ever.
It would probably be easier to move in without them, but Derek couldn't say no to their excitement about seeing their new home.
Derek carries Lexie to the bathroom as she howls in pain, Ren following close behind—the lost penny momentarily forgotten in light of the bloody knee. After setting Lexie on the counter, he cleans her up and finds a bandage in the cabinet.
"Those are boring." Lexie sniffles, eyes welling with tears as she eyes the beige Band-Aid in his hands. "Where's my Hello Kitty ones?"
"They're in a box in the truck. And no, we can't get them," Derek hastily adds because there's no way he's digging through the truck to find the box labeled 'bathroom' just to find her a pretty bandage. He might give in to most things, but that's far too time-consuming.
Especially since they're running late. His mom and Cora have already left, but Derek promised the kids a ride in the truck, so it's not like they can get started without him.
The kids exchange a look. "Then I'll have the boring one," Lexie says. "But kiss it first."
Derek kisses the Band-Aid, making her giggle. "Not the Band-Aid, daddy. My ouchie."
Leaning over, Derek kisses the red abrasion on her knee, then gently covers it with the boring beige Band-Aid. "Are we good to go now?"
They nod.
Twenty minutes later, they're heading for their new home, eating glazed donuts and banging their heads along to some hard rock, which the kids affectionately call 'Dad music.' Derek glances at them—his kids, for all intents and purposes.
I'm their dad.
The thought always stuns him, and his heart pangs. He loves and adores them so much. So, so much, and sometimes, he worries he might be having a heart attack when he looks at them. The feeling is that powerful.
Lexie has Warren's light hair and brown eyes, his lightly freckled nose. But she has Laura's stubborn streak and smart-ass mouth—that's also where she gets her relentless need to ask questions. Physically, Ren is his mother through and through, from his dark hair and light eyes to his dimpled smile, but he's much more easygoing, like his father, and always laughs at Derek's jokes.
Derek turns down the music. "So, how did I do this morning?"
This is another game they love—giving Derek a score based on how well he handles them. He invented it when they were younger to distract them from missing their parents. "Ten, right?"
"I don't know about ten," Lexie says. "I think you should lose a point off for cutting my hair."
"But that was your gum," Derek argues.
"Still. And then you didn't find Ren's penny."
"He lost the penny!"
"And you didn't have Hello Kitty Band-Aids," Lexie adds, wiping her hands on the front of her shirt.
Derek's not going to point out that he does, in fact, have Hello Kitty Band-Aids; they're just packed. Nor will he mention that it was his mom that didn't have them.
"That's three things," Ren says. "And ten minus three is seven."
"Seven out of ten?" Derek shakes his head. "No fucking way. I need at least an eight."
"You did let us ride in the truck," Ren points out. "I guess we could give you a point for that."
"One for each of you."
"Hmm." Lexie scrunches her face like she's considering his offer. "I guess we could do that."
"So I'd get a nine out of ten?"
"Yes," they chime in unison.
"Fine. But I'm playing Dad music the whole time." Derek cranks up the volume on Aerosmith and rolls down the windows. Nine out of ten isn't perfect, but he'll fucking take it.
The kids are missing.
They've been in their new home all of five minutes, and Derek can't find them anywhere. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. They unloaded the truck, and he left to drop it off, leaving Lexie and Ren in Isaac and Cora's care while his mom went to get food. But when he got back, Isaac and Cora were making out on the couch, and the kids were nowhere to be seen.
After barking at them about losing his kids, Cora told him that they went next door to ask the neighbor for Band-Aids. Apparently, no one could take the time to unpack the box with the first aid kit.
Still, Derek told Lexie and Ren not to leave the house. And, supernatural hearing or not, Isaac and Cora should have known better than to let them wander on their own. This might be a good neighborhood, but they don't know anyone here yet.
The new place isn't big by any measure—it's a two-story townhouse with an attached garage. An end unit, much roomier and more contemporary than their New York brownstone, and the surroundings are way better. There's a grassy area for the kids to play out back, a park within walking distance, and a pool. They have three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. A slight upgrade from their previous residence, considering Lexie and Ren can have their own bedrooms.
Derek walks around to the front of the building, following the kids' scents, and knocks on his neighbor's door.
"That'll be daddy." Ren's voice is muffled through the door.
Footsteps hurry over, and the door flings open. Derek's skin breaks out in goosebumps as he's hit with an enticing scent. It's familiar, but not. Like it's being overpowered by something else. Large doe eyes peer up at him, and it takes Derek a second to place how he knows this person.
"Stiles?"
It's been nearly six years since Derek last saw Stiles, though he'll never forget the night they spent together.
It was summer break, and Derek had been in Beacon Hills visiting his mom. He met up with some friends from high school at a local bar, and that's where Derek first saw him.
Stiles wore sinfully tight red pants and an equally tight shirt with a low collar that showed off the long expanse of his neck. He was lithe—like most omegas—with lean muscles, and, God, he smelled so fucking good. Derek wanted to back him up against the nearest wall and devour him.
The attraction was mutual.
They talked for a bit, flirted a lot, then went back to Stiles's apartment, where Derek made good on all the filthy promises he whispered in Stiles's ear as they waited for an Uber.
Derek meant to keep in touch with Stiles, had wanted to get his number the next morning, but he woke to his phone ringing incessantly.
Stiles barely stirred as Derek hurried out of the house, phone to his ear as his mom sobbed for him to come home. Laura and Warren had been in a terrible car accident.
He rushed back to New York, and everything had changed.
"Daddy!" Lexie's voice startles him from his memories, and he glances over Stiles's shoulder to see her running up the hall with Ren close behind.
At the sight of his kids, Derek relaxes. "You guys cannot run off like that. I didn't know where you were."
"Sorry," Lexie says, lips pulled down in a pout. "I needed a new Band-Aid."
"And we didn't want to ask you because you were already being a grouch about the couch," Ren adds.
"Hey, that rhymes. Grouch and couch." Lexie smiles down at her little brother with admiration. "Daddy was a grouch about the couch."
Derek gives them a tight smile, his attention drawn back to Stiles. An awkward air settles around them as they stand in the doorway, staring at each other.
Should he say something?
But what? It's not as if he and Stiles were friends. They had one night. One amazing night that Derek's never been able to forget, even as he shoved the memory to the far recesses of his mind. He had more important things to think about. Like the kids.
Christ. What are the chances of not only running into a one-night stand from six years ago but moving in next door to him?
"Um," Stiles bites his bottom lip, "did you wanna come in? I mean, I don't exactly know the proper protocol when the person who ghosted you suddenly shows up with two kids."
"You remember me?"
Stiles scoffs. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember you. What I don't remember is you mentioning kids."
"It's…complicated." Derek doesn't really want to talk about the circumstances that led to him having said children. At least, not with them here. Some days are fine. They ask about their parents, but on other days—when they're more overwhelmed—the mere mention of Laura or Warren can set them off.
"Obviously." Stiles steps back, gesturing for Derek to come in, but Derek's eyes lock on his abdomen. On his very much pregnant belly. That would explain why Stiles's scent is a little different.
At that moment, a silver Porsche pulls into Stiles's driveway, and a man in a tailored grey suit steps out of it, briefcase in hand. His gaze flies to Derek, and a scowl that could rival Derek's takes over his face.
"Everything okay here?" the man asks, stepping past Derek to stand next to Stiles. It's a protective stance. He's supernatural, a werecreature of some sort, but Derek can't tell what. All he cares about right now is that this guy is between him and his kids.
Derek's eyes flash crimson, but Stiles's touch stops him from ripping the man away. "Jackson, don't be an idiot. His kids are in here. You're lucky he doesn't hurt you."
The man—Jackson—looks over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, my kids are right here." He puts a hand on Stiles's belly, rubbing circles. "I'm tired. I'm gonna shower real quick."
With that, Jackson slides his other hand down the side of Stiles's neck, scenting him, before stalking past Lexie and Ren—who both give him a wide berth—and heading up the stairs.
"Sorry about him. He's normally not this much of a jackass."
Interesting choice of words. "So, he's still a jackass?"
"Yup," Stiles says, popping the 'P.' "Anyway, it's good to see you again. I take it you're my new neighbor?"
When Stiles holds out a hand, Derek shakes it as if he doesn't know what Stiles tastes like. "Yeah. And these are my two brats, Lexie and Ren."
"He already knows us, daddy," Lexie says impatiently. "He gave me a new Band-Aid." She shows off her knee, complete with a Star Wars bandage. "It's much better than yours."
"I can see that." It's no Hello Kitty, but whatever. "And those were grandma's Band-Aids, remember?" To Stiles, he says, "Sorry for the intrusion."
"Not at all. I'm sorry about the couch, and Jackson," Stiles says, gesturing over his shoulder. "I hope the rest of the move goes well. If you need anything, just let me know."
"Thanks." Derek looks at his kids. "Let's go, pups."
"Daddy, can we go swimming?" Ren asks, tugging on his shirt.
"No." Derek scoops him up and rubs his scratchy jaw over Ren's cheek. "We might be werewolves, but it's still not smart to go swimming while it's cold out. But! You can unpack while I put your beds together." He shepherds them off the porch, glancing back at Stiles. "Thanks again."
"Anytime," Stiles says before closing the front door.
Derek doesn't hear Stiles move away from the door and imagines him standing there awkwardly. Is he as in shock over this as Derek? But then Stiles's footsteps retreat, and when Derek hears the tromp tromp tromp of him heading upstairs, he stops listening.
There's no point in even thinking about Stiles when he's clearly in a relationship. Even if his boyfriend-fiancé-husband—or whatever—is an asshole.
Derek manages to keep his mind off Stiles until bedtime. It's not that difficult since Lexie and Ren talk everyone's ears off as they eat and unpack. Plus, he busies himself with putting together everyone's beds and getting their clothes put away.
By the time they're done, Derek's exhausted. Cora and Isaac leave, but thankfully, his mom stays to help the kids get ready for bed—bath and all—so all he has to do is tuck them in.
"Can we get a cat?" Lexie asks, blankets pulled up to her chin. Her hair is perfectly parted and in pigtails, thanks to his mom.
"No." A desk can probably fit along that wall, he thinks as he glances around the large room. This is more space than they're used to.
"But why not? You said the old house didn't allow pets but this one does."
"Oh yeah? And how do you know that?"
"Because Stiles has a cat. His name is Loki, but we didn't see him because he was hiding. Stiles says he's shy. Also, cats are very clean, I've read about it."
"I told you, Lexie, we can't have a pet because I work twenty-four-hour shifts. There would be nobody here to feed it on the days I work." Plus, cats don't really like him.
"Maybe Stiles can feed it when we're not here."
"No." Derek lines the unpacked boxes neatly up against the wall so they're out of the way.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want a stranger in our house."
"He's not a stranger. You already know him. He's your friend."
"Listen, pup, I met Stiles once, a few years ago, but that's it. We're not friends."
"Okay, well, after you know him better, will you ask?" Lexie pleads.
"We're not getting a cat, so there's nothing to ask." And now he needs to change the subject. "Now, would you rather paint your room pink or purple?"
After Lexie decides on purple, Derek goes into Ren's room and settles on the edge of his bed.
Ren blinks up at him. "Daddy, do we have a jar?"
O…kay. That's kind of out of the blue.
"A jar?" Derek raises a brow as he tucks a lock of Ren's hair behind his ear. It might be time for a haircut. "What for?"
"To collect money every time you say a bad word."
Derek laughs. "You mean a swear jar?"
"Yeah. That's what he called it."
"That's what who called it?" Derek asks, voice full of irritation. He already knows.
"Stiles." Ren cuddles his favorite stuffed animal, a plush wolf that Derek got him when he was born.
He has no idea how the thing is still in one piece considering Ren drags it everywhere.
"He said that his daddy was always saying bad words, too, so he made a swear jar."
"Fuck that." Derek shakes his head.
"The F-word is a dollar, daddy, so you might not want to say it anymore." Ren's tone is solemn as he stares up at him.
"Yeah, well, your new buddy Stiles has a potty mouth, too. Did he tell you that?"
Ren giggles. And why wouldn't he? Derek's acting like a child, but he doesn't want to think about Stiles. Or how good he looked.
The events of their one night together play in technicolor in his mind—the way Stiles looked sated and happy and spread out on his bed. His taste was pure sweetness, and Derek devoured him like he was scared someone would take his plate away before he was finished.
Christ. Is it too soon to move?
"Go to sleep, pup." Derek kisses Ren's forehead, pushing thoughts of Stiles out of his mind.
"Love you, daddy."
"I love you, too."
The next day is spent with more unpacking. Derek's goal is to be done before he starts his first shift at the fire station. His schedule is similar to the one he did in New York, with the exception of having seventy-two hours off after working a twenty-four-hour shift instead of just forty-eight.
They've just made their emergency plan and set a meeting spot when there's a knock on the front door. Derek rolls his eyes as Lexie and Ren stampede toward the sound. Their squeals of excitement bounce off the walls as they elbow each other to get ahead, racing down the stairs.
"No running!"
"Daddy, it's Stiles!"
Fuck.
How the hell is he supposed to look Stiles in the eyes today? Not when he jerked off to the memory of their night together. To the way Stiles had pulled Derek's hand to his mouth, kissing his palm first, then his fingertips, nipping gently at the callused flesh before urging Derek to jerk him off.
Even after so long, Derek's never been able to forget what his touch, his lips, and his body felt like pressed against him.
Derek groans, but it's too late to hide. Stiles is his neighbor, and they're bound to run into each other. Often.
He goes downstairs and finds Stiles waiting at the door, wearing a Mets cap and an oversized BCSD hoodie that stretches over his pregnant belly. He remembers how Stiles begged to be filled and bred.
'Wait until you fill me with your pups,' he'd said.
'More,' he'd whimpered. 'Please.'
Derek forces himself to look away. What he needs to do is go out and get laid. It's clearly been too long if he keeps having flashbacks to a one-night stand from six years ago. Besides, Derek has his hands full with the kids to even consider dating anyone, and there's a lot more to a relationship than sexual attraction. Not to mention, Stiles is taken.
God, that irritates the hell out of him.
"Hey, Stiles," he finally says.
"Hi, Derek."
Stiles holds up a white pastry box. "I brought some doughnuts and muffins from my bakery."
"Your bakery?" Derek remembers Stiles talking about wanting to open a bakery while they flirted over drinks. "Congratulations."
A blush rises to Stiles's cheeks as he smiles softly. "You remembered."
It's not a question.
"I do. You said your mom taught you to bake." And, sure enough, when Derek looks at the top of the box, it's stamped 'Claudia's.' "And that you wanted to open a bakery in her name. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks." Stiles beams at him, and Derek absolutely does not preen at making him happy. Nope. Not at all. "It's only been open for a few years now, but I'm doing pretty well. I just got back from opening the shop and figured I'd bring by some treats. I know sometimes it's hard to step away from unpacking because you just wanna get everything done."
"Daddy! Daddy! Can we have a doughnut?" Lexie asks. Derek's surprised they haven't managed to paw the box out of Stiles's hands.
Ren claps his hands in excitement. "Stiles said there's two in the box for each of us. That's six doughnuts, daddy!"
"I wasn't sure which flavors you'd like, so I just chose some of my favorites. But here you go," Stiles says, handing Derek the box.
"You're not staying?" Lexie asks with a pout when Stiles backs away as if he's leaving.
Stiles shakes his head. "I have an order I need to get out. But I'll come by again sometime."
"What about dinner?" Lexie adds, "We're having spaghetti tonight. You can come and eat with us if you want."
They are?
He can?
Derek raises a brow at her. "Lexie."
"Will you feed our cat?" Ren asks. Oh, to be in the mind of an eight-year-old.
Stiles glances around. "You have a cat?"
"No," Derek grunts, giving Ren a menacing glare. "We don't."
"But we might get one in the future," Lexie says.
Ren tries again. "Will you feed our future cat?"
That makes Lexie laugh. "Future Cat sounds kind of like a cartoon or a superhero. Hey, maybe our cat will have superpowers!"
"And we can get it a little cape," Ren says, eyes lighting up.
That is, until Derek says, "There will be no cats, with or without superpowers."
"He's still grouchy about the couch," Lexie tells Stiles, who Derek can tell is trying not to laugh.
'Asshole,' Derek mouths. Which only serves to make him smile brighter.
"Go eat your damn doughnuts," Derek growls, giving Ren the box. He knows he practically paints a target on the poor kid's back since Lexie will fight him for it. Sure enough, the second Ren tries to open the box, Lexie reaches for a doughnut. Ren takes off with Lexie yelling at him as she sprints after him. "And no running!"
Yeah, he definitely won't be winning any parent of the year awards, that's for sure. But that's fine. He's got a coffee mug that proudly states, 'My dad is my hero.'
"Did you wanna come in?" Derek asks when Stiles shivers. It's not too cold for him, but Stiles is human.
"Oh no, I won't keep you. I just wanted to drop that off." Stiles meets his eyes, lips upturned in a crooked grin. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
There's a hitch in Derek's breath like a loose thread snagging. The sun bathes Stiles in gold. His amber eyes burn molten. They're fringed with thick black lashes, and his lips are so plump and pink. Derek remembers kissing Stiles until they were puffy and raw. He remembers tracing the pattern of moles on Stiles's cheek down to his chest.
Derek glances at Stiles's belly. He smiles at the rapid, rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of twin heartbeats.
His wolf hums under his skin, eyes lulling to half-mast.
Beautiful, perfect mate.
Thankfully, Derek's phone rings before he can say or do something stupid. "I need to get that, but thank you for the pastries."
"Oh. Um, y-yeah, of course. My pleasure." With one last smile, Stiles bounces energetically across the driveway to his car.
It's so hard to take his eyes off Stiles, and when Stiles turns back to glance at him, he catches Derek staring.
Embarrassed, Derek quickly closes the front door.
God, he's so fucked.
Derek gets the kids enrolled at school, and they start the following week, which leaves him free to finish unpacking while they're in class.
While he's setting out the welcome mat, Stiles pulls into his side of the driveway.
"Hey, need any help?" Derek asks, seeing the back of his Jeep filled with grocery bags.
Stiles shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. I got it."
Derek raises a brow when Stiles starts loading his arms full. There's no way he's going to watch Stiles struggle with the bags, pregnant or not. So he leaves the paint he just bought in the back of his Camaro and jogs over, taking the bags from him—as well as the rest of the bags from his Jeep.
"I—"
Derek levels him with a look that brokers no argument.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a stubborn 'wolf?"
"Once or twice. I've even been told I'm a dick."
"Yeah, well, I won't argue that one," Stiles says, but the words are teasing.
Derek grins as he follows Stiles inside. "I'll work on it."
Since their townhomes have the same layout, he heads right to the kitchen and sets them on the kitchen island. "Need help unloading?"
Stiles snorts and nudges him out of the way. "I can put my own groceries away. Promise." He holds up three fingers like he's making the Boy Scout promise. "Oh! But before you go!"
He goes to the fridge and pulls out a small cake. "I made this for the kids. It was their first day today, right?"
Warmth spreads through Derek's chest as he looks at it. The top reads 'Happy First Day of School' and there are little balloons all around it.
"Yeah. It was. They'll love this. You're gonna spoil them and they'll probably expect a special cake for every event now."
"I don't mind. It was fun."
"Thank you."
Stiles smiles warmly at him. "No problem."
With that, Derek says goodbye, giving Stiles one last smile before he leaves.
When the kids come home from school, they tell him about their classes and all the new friends they've made.
While they'd been excited to move, Derek worried things would change once school started, and they realized none of their friends were here. But he should have known better.
Lexie beams as she goes on and on about her teacher and how he'd gone to Scotland to visit his son. Ren chatters about two little boys who sat with him at lunch.
After dinner, Derek shows them the cake Stiles baked, giving them each a small slice.
"He's really good at this," Lexie says, taking a big bite.
Ren nods before digging a finger through the icing and licking it clean. Derek gives him a look and he blushes. "Sorry."
"It's alright, pup, but let's try to use this, okay?" Derek hands him a fork. He shakes his head because a fork doesn't really help the mess Ren makes. Not that Lexie's any better.
"Daddy! Daddy!" Lexie's got icing smeared on her cheek somehow. "Can we go see Stiles?"
"Why?"
"We hafta tell him thank you," Ren says. His expression practically screams duh.
Derek snorts. "Well, it's late now and—" Even though he hates doing it, considering he never knows what he could potentially hear, Derek listens intently, focusing on Stiles's house. No sound comes through the walls, not even his soft snoring if he were asleep. "He's not home."
"Aw." Both Lexie and Ren pout, which shouldn't be adorable, but is.
"How about we write him a note?" Derek suggests, trying to appease them.
"Oh, that's really smart, daddy," Lexie says in a tone as if she's proud he came up with such a good idea.
"Okay." Ren nods eagerly.
Derek chuckles as he cleans up the table. "Well, go on and get cleaned up."
After they're done, Derek guides them into the living room and sits on the couch between them as they make Stiles a thank you card—which he promises they can give to Stiles in the morning.
Then they spend the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie together.
Today was definitely a ten out of ten.
Derek's first day at the fire station starts out uneventful—a lot of paperwork and getting to know the other guys in the company. His face breaks out in a wide grin when he sees Boyd, his best friend from high school, walking beside Isaac.
"Boyd? Good to see you, man!" Derek's glad to have another familiar face at the station.
"Yeah, you too! The chief mentioned we got a new guy and I couldn't believe it when he said your name."
Derek tries not to feel guilty for not keeping in touch with anyone besides his mom and sister, but he put all his focus on the kids.
"Yeah, just moved back a couple weeks ago."
They catch each other up on their lives while they eat lunch. Boyd married his high school sweetheart, Erica, and they have a kid the same age as Ren. They're apparently in the same class, so Derek sets up a playdate so they can hang out.
But just before his shift is over, the alarm blares overhead. There's a house fire across town. Minutes later, Derek's geared up and climbing into the truck. The sirens wail as the truck maneuvers through traffic like a well-choreographed dance, and it doesn't take long to get there.
Once they receive their orders, he and the other guys race into the building, wearing their breathing masks. They search for people inside the house, but thankfully it's empty.
Derek's attention is on the task at hand, especially since this is his first fire with a new crew. The stakes are high—firehouses are like family, which isn't all that surprising considering the amount of time they spend together. And he doesn't want to let his team down.
The crew is good though, and once the fire is finally extinguished, they head back to the station. They're all tired, and even though there were no victims, all Derek wants to do is pick up the kids from school and hold them close.
Derek does his best to focus on his job and the kids, but Stiles is constantly on his mind.
After walking the kids off at school a couple of days later, Derek takes a detour down Main Street and ends up at the bakery. Stiles is busy placing muffins into the display case. He can imagine the scent of fresh blueberries, anise, and rosemary filling the air.
Stiles whistles a song, but Derek can't place the tune.
He watches for a minute before deciding he's probably being creepy and jogs back home.
That night, Derek sits on the couch, watching The Mighty Ducks with the kids, when he hears a series of high-pitched beeps.
"What's that?" Lexie asks, scrunching up her face.
Instantly on high alert, Derek puts his hand up. "Shh."
Derek hears it again and recognizes it as a smoke detector going off, but not in their house—they're hearing it through the walls. "Stay here."
He races out of the room and barrels through the front door, running over to Stiles's and knocking. The alarm is clearly coming from inside his unit, and when Stiles doesn't answer the door, Derek makes a split-second decision to bust in.
Fortunately, the door isn't locked.
He shoulders it open, sending a fawn-colored cat running for its life. That must be Loki.
Derek's relieved when he doesn't see or smell smoke right away. Stiles's townhouse is laid out exactly like Derek's, and he immediately realizes the detector going off is upstairs.
Racing up the steps three at a time, Derek reaches the master bedroom doorway just in time to see Stiles climbing a step ladder, one hand reaching toward the ceiling to disconnect the unit.
His jaw drops open.
Stiles is damn near naked and dripping wet.
One hand clutches a small towel around his waist that, quite frankly, doesn't fucking hide anything. Behind him, steam from his shower billows from his bathroom, which must have been what set off the alarm—some detectors are that sensitive.
Behind Derek, there's clamoring on the stairs, and a second later, Lexie and Ren rush into the bedroom. Startled, Stiles looks over and sees them. His eyes widen in surprise, and he loses his footing, toppling backward off the step ladder.
Derek dashes forward, catching Stiles as he falls.
Averting his eyes, Derek sets Stiles carefully on his feet.
Two seconds pass before Stiles scrambles toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He doesn't come back out.
Derek disconnects the alarm, but the sirens in his head continue.
He glances at the kids. Lexie has her hands over her mouth. Ren's eyes are wide, and he points to the bathroom door.
"Stiles was naked," he whispers—loudly. "We saw his butt."
"Quiet," Derek scolds. "You two were supposed to stay at our house. You didn't follow my orders."
"But daddy, we were scared," Lexie says. Her cheeks are shiny from the buttered popcorn, and there's a kernel in her hair. "We came to find you."
"We'll talk about it later, but when I tell you to stay put, you stay put—especially in an emergency. Understand?"
They nod.
"Good. Now go back to our house, both of you."
"But what about Stiles? Is he okay?" Lexie asks.
Derek sighs, knowing she won't relent until she knows he's okay, so he knocks on the bathroom door, trying not to picture Stiles naked. The shower isn't running anymore. "Stiles? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!"
"Are you hurt?"
"Nope! I'm fine!" he repeats in the same false, bright tone.
A tiny smile inches onto Derek's lips. "Are you sure?"
"Uh huh!"
"It must have been the steam that set off your smoke detector."
"Yup, it sometimes happens when I forget to open the windows in here."
"Well, it's good that it's sensitive, but open them now, okay? I should hook this back up."
"I will."
Derek hesitates, then speaks again. "Sorry to barge in on you like that. I'm a firefighter, and, y'know, with the kids, I take smoke detectors seriously. They're kind of my thing."
"Haha, it's okay!" Obviously, he's still trying to sound brave and cheerful, but his voice cracks, making Derek smile again. "I mean, nothing you haven't seen before." He lets out a nervous laugh. "But seriously, I'm okay. You don't have to stay."
Clearly, Stiles isn't going to risk looking him in the eye after that, and Derek can't really blame him.
After making sure both windows in Stiles's bedroom are opened a crack to clear out the steam, Derek reconnects the battery in the detector. Then he goes over to the door and speaks through it once more. "I reconnected it. I'll lock the door on my way out."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome."
Shoving the memory of Stiles's nearly naked body from his mind, Derek herds the kids from the room and out of the house, making sure to lock Stiles's door behind them.
"I still can't believe we saw his butt," Lexie whispers to Ren.
"That's enough." Derek swats her backside lightly before ushering them into their bedrooms.
Thankfully, his kids are easily distracted, and within a few minutes, they're picking out which book they want him to read before bed.
Lexie chooses Madeline's Christmas, and Ren decides on The Polar Express since they're both still in the Christmas spirit.
After several kisses and two bedtime stories, Derek climbs into his own bed. He makes a mental note to ensure the windows in his bathroom are open if he ever decides to take a steamy shower.
Though, he envisions a lot of cold showers in his future.
And just like that, his mind quickly wanders back to Stiles because, apparently, it's decided to torture Derek.
He lies awake, tossing and turning and desperately trying not to picture Stiles naked, but it's no use.
He has a boyfriend, Derek reminds himself.
But the guy wasn't there, was he? In fact, Derek's only seen him a couple of times during the past week. There's no way Derek would leave his pregnant omega alone that often. And not because he's an overbearing, possessive alpha asshole, but because he'd want to make sure Stiles was taken care of.
Even though it's obvious that Stiles is an independent, self-sufficient omega, Derek would just want to be around him. There's something about Stiles that calms him—settles him.
The truth is, Derek can see himself falling for Stiles. He knew it that night, with their easy banter and how perfectly Stiles fit in his arms. He never had the urge to mark, mate, and claim as he did with Stiles.
But life fucking sucks, and he has priorities that don't leave a lot of time for dating. Not that Stiles would even be an option.
Sigh.
The smart thing to do is put Stiles out of his mind. They're neighbors. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yeah. That would definitely be the smart thing to do.
"Daddy, I need help with my homework." Lexie shoves a school book at him, opening to a page with worksheets for multiplying mixed numbers.
"I'm sleeping," he mutters, turning back to the stove.
She giggles. "Daddy!"
"Can't Ren help you?"
When he glances over his shoulder, she's shaking her head at him. "He's only in third grade, he can't multiply fractions yet."
"I can't multiply fractions yet." That's not true; Derek just hates math—with a fiery passion. He'd rather sit through the Introduction to Philosophy class he took in college again. Seriously, the lectures were hardly lectures. His professor would read straight from their assigned book about Thomas Aquinas or their massive philosophy anthology. Sometimes, he'd emphasize some points with diagrams or notes written on the board. For the most part, aside from the irregular discussions, the class would just silently read along with him, holding their heads in their hands and yawning.
But Derek would do it again if it meant he never had to look at fractions again.
Unfortunately, Lexie needs his help.
"Just…" Derek sighs. "Let me finish dinner. I'll see if I can help you, and if not, we'll see if Aunt Cora's free. She's good at math. For right now, why don't you go play with Ren in the backyard."
"Okay."
"Put on a jacket!" he calls out.
Derek peeks out at the kids a few times while he cooks. A few people are grilling since the weather's not terrible, especially for the supernatural. Werewolves aren't the only creatures that tend to run warm.
Stiles must be outside because Derek hears his voice clearly, but tries not to eavesdrop. There's a fine line between ensuring the kids are safe and snooping.
The back door slides open, and Lexie comes in, but then she's gone again.
He sees her and Stiles sitting at the patio table, heads ducked together, the workbook between them.
"Good job," Stiles says. "Now you just need to multiply the numerators and the denominators separately."
"Nine times ten is ninety. And then two times three is six." Lexie's pencil flies over the paper. "So that means it's ninety over six."
Stiles nods, smiling brightly as he ruffles her hair. "And now you just have to convert it down to its simplified form."
"The mixed number."
"Yup! You've got it!"
Something aches in Derek's chest as he watches Stiles with Lexie. This is what he's been missing. This sense of family. Sure, he has his mom and sister, but this is more. He wants a mate, a partner in every sense of the word. Someone that will sit and help the kids with homework when he can't. Someone who smiles brightly even when Derek's a grump. Someone who bakes the most delicious muffins he's ever had the pleasure of tasting.
Fuck.
He wants Stiles.
"Daddy?"
Derek glances toward Ren, realizing he's been staring at Stiles—something he catches himself doing far too often.
He didn't even hear Ren come back inside.
"Hey, pup. What's going on?"
"Is dinner ready? I'm hungry."
"Yeah. Yeah." Derek shakes himself out of his useless thoughts. "Why don't you set the table and grab your sister."
Maybe he should see if Stiles wants to stay for dinner. The thought of providing for Stiles makes Derek puff out his chest.
He's not yours, he reminds himself.
"Okay." Ren runs over to the dining hutch where the plates are. "Lexie!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Dinner's ready, so get your butt inside!"
"Warren Grant Wilder, Junior! What have I told you about yelling in the house?" Derek asks in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air.
Ren shrugs. "Not to."
"Daddy!" Lexie comes bounding into the house. "Stiles helped me with my homework! I got it all done!"
"Good job! Now, why don't you and Ren go wash up."
"Okay, daddy!" They call out in unison before tromping up the stairs.
Derek tries not to think about how good Stiles is to his kids—first with bringing them baked goods and now with the homework. He definitely tries not to think about how quickly the kids have taken to Stiles, as if he's always been there. When they had dinner at his mom's the other day, they kept going on and on about him.
"The kids talked about Stiles a lot this week. You know his dad is the sheriff?" his mom said. Then she laughed. "They said he's very pretty and that you keep staring at him."
Derek groaned. He can already tell she's primed to try and set them up. "He's…attractive. But he's also got a boyfriend. They're having a baby."
"Oh."
Yeah. Oh.
"Hey." Stiles stands in the doorway, hands on his belly. His nose and cheeks are red from the cool temperature. "Um, I was wondering if I could borrow you for a second? When you're done eating, of course," he adds quickly.
"Come on in. It's cold out." Derek makes sure the stove is off before walking over to Stiles. He must have been baking recently because his underlying scent is masked by blueberries, vanilla, and sugar.
"It's not too bad," Stiles says, stepping inside and closing the sliding door behind him. "Honestly, I've been so hot lately, that I sleep with my ceiling fan on, and the windows opened a crack."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Stiles shrugs like it's no big deal, but Derek knows they make cooling blankets. He wonders if it'd be weird to get one for Stiles. Not that it should be any of his concern, that is.
Stiles isn't his.
"But anyway, listen," Stiles chews on his bottom lip like he's considering saying never mind.
Derek gives him an encouraging smile. "What is it?"
"I hate to ask, but…my garbage disposal stopped working. I got a new one and I'd install it, but—" Stiles gestures at his stomach. "I don't fit under the sink anymore."
Derek chuckles. But then he realizes that Stiles is asking for his help. Even though he wants to ask where the jackass is, he doesn't. Instead, he smiles softly. "When are you due?"
"Just a few more weeks. First week of February." Stiles groans, pressing his hand firmly on the side of his stomach. "Sorry. That was a hard kick."
"Do you need to sit down?" Derek gestures at the dining table. He has to suppress the urge to reach out and palm Stiles's stomach to take any pain. "You could stay for dinner?"
"No, no, I couldn't. I mean, I'd love to, but I have a pie in the oven. Which I should go check on. The last time I tried to bake one, I forgot to set the timer. I also forgot I was baking. Pregnancy brain is…" Stiles blows out a breath. "So real."
"My sister, Laura, she constantly forgot things when she was pregnant. One time she was headed out to work—she was probably six months pregnant with Lexie at the time—anyway, she needed the bathroom, right? So she put her keys down and then forgot where they were when she was done."
"I've done that."
Derek chuckles. "I offered her my car, but—"
"Lemme guess, she broke down crying?"
"Yeah…" Derek smiles at the memory.
"So, Lexie and Ren…they're…?"
Oh. They never talked about that, did they?
"They're my sister's kids. But she and her husband were in a car accident a few years ago. It was actually the night we were together," Derek admits. He doesn't really want to get into it, but Stiles deserves to know why he ghosted him all those years ago. "I got the call that morning..."
Somehow, his voice remains steady as he explains what happened—the phone waking him, talking to his mom, racing home.
Derek probably should have at least woken Stiles on his way out, but his only thought was to get home. Besides, he wouldn't have known what to say.
"Oh, wow. I'm so sorry." Stiles sniffles, and tears well up in his eyes. The air sours with his distress.
Crap.
Derek grabs a napkin from the table. "Here," he says quietly, rubbing Stiles's back. "It's okay."
"Hormones," is all Stiles says, and then his phone alarm goes off. "That's my pie. I-I should go."
Derek wants to ask him to stay, but instead, he nods. "I'll stop over after dinner."
"Are you sure? You don't have to."
"I want to."
Stiles gives him a soft smile. "Thanks."
After replacing the garbage disposal for Stiles, Derek notices him carrying a large laundry basket in from the garage.
"What are you doing?" he asks, wiping his hands on a rag.
Stiles sets the basket down by the stairs. "Oh, my washer isn't working, so I had to go to the laundromat today."
"What's wrong with it?"
"I don't know. The drum just stopped spinning. Jackson got it drained, but I haven't had a chance to have someone come take a look at it."
"It's upstairs, right?" Derek's laundry is in the master bathroom, so Stiles's should be too.
When Stiles nods, he heads toward the stairs. "Want me to see if I can figure it out?"
Stiles lets out a relieved breath. "Only if you don't mind."
"I don't." Derek grabs the basket. "This is coming up, too, right?"
"I can get that."
"Stiles." Derek raises a brow. It's a look that says, I'm carrying this whether you like it or not.
Stiles rolls his eyes but goes upstairs. "You know, I normally don't go for all this alpha posturing bullshit, but I know you're only doing it because you're afraid I'll fall or something."
"Pregnancy can throw off your equilibrium."
"Which pregnancy book did you read that from?"
"For your information," Derek sets the basket beside Stiles's bed before following him into the bathroom, "I read it in a parenting magazine. Still, it's useful information."
"Why aren't you dating anyone?" Stiles leans against the sink while Derek checks out the washing machine. It's already unplugged, and the hose is disconnected. "Seriously, how are you still single?"
"How do you know I'm not dating anyone?" Derek grunts as he pulls the washing machine away from the wall. There's a tool bag sitting on the dryer, so he grabs a screwdriver and opens the back.
"Well, I haven't seen you go out or seen anyone come over."
"I have the kids." Derek quickly finds the problem when he sees the shorn drive belt. "Your belt is broken, that's why it stopped spinning. You can order one, or Home Depot might have something."
"Alright. I'll look that up. Just leave it open like that, so I don't have to call you back over once I get the part."
"I can install it," Derek says, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Stiles inhales sharply, and the air grows heavy and thick with the heady scent of his arousal.
"Fuck."
Fuck is right because—Goddamn—Derek can tell Stiles is leaking slick.
Double fuck because Derek knows what it tastes like, and he wants nothing more than to pull down Stiles's pants and lick him open.
Derek's gums itch as his fangs drop. His claws scratch the metal surface of the washing machine as he holds himself back from grabbing Stiles and tossing him into bed to have his way with him.
Stiles steps up beside him. It's torture. "Derek?"
"I have to go," he slurs around his fangs. "Just tell me when you get the belt and I'll install it."
"Are you okay?"
Derek manages a nod and a gruff, "Fine."
Stiles reaches out to touch him but drops his hand before making contact. "Okay. I-I'll see you later, then."
Derek runs down the stairs, jumping to the bottom with five to go, and out the door.
He's so fucked.
It's been two days, and Derek's done a damn good job of avoiding Stiles. It's completely intentional because he got too close to losing control the last time they were together. But he also promised to fix his washer, so he knows he needs to suck it up.
After dinner, he'll go over and make sure Stiles knows that he's still willing to install the belt.
For now, he scoops some of the Mississippi Pot Roast onto plates for him and the kids. It's the one meal he can't get wrong.
There's a light knock on the back door.
Derek sets the plates down and walks over, eyes widening when he sees Stiles standing there with a shy smile.
'Hi,' Stiles mouths.
"Hey," Derek says, quickly opening the door. "Is everything okay? Did you get the washer belt?"
"I did, but, um…" Stiles scratches lightly at the side of his neck, and his cheeks are stained pink. "I don't know what you're cooking, but it smells really good, so I was just wondering…couldIhavesome?" he asks in a shy voice.
"Yes, of course."
"I feel like such a dick even asking, but I made dinner and it just—whatever you're cooking, I need that."
Derek chuckles, gesturing for Stiles to come in. "Pregnancy cravings?"
"Oh man, they're a bitch, dude."
"Ooooh, daddy, Stiles said a bad word. That's a dollar in the sweared jar!" Ren says, coming into the kitchen.
"It's just called a swear jar, kiddo." Stiles boops him on the nose.
Lexie comes running in, damn near colliding with Stiles to hug him. "Are you staying for dinner?"
"Um."
Maybe he was just planning on taking a plate, but Derek nods. "Yes, he is. Are you guys washed up?"
They both nod, though Lexie hasn't let go of Stiles yet.
"Guess what?" She beams up at him. "We had a pop quiz on mixed fractions and I got an A-plus!"
"High five!" Stiles holds a hand up, and they slap palms. "That's awesome! Told you you could do it."
"Well, you explained it a lot better than my teacher, that's for sure."
"Stiles," Ren calls out as he opens the fridge. "What do you wanna drink? We got water and apple juice. Well, and soda, but daddy doesn't let us have that."
"Oh, just water, please. And thank you." Stiles leans against the counter beside Derek after Lexie lets him go. "Are you sure this is okay? I really didn't mean to intrude."
"It's okay. I don't mind." And he really, really doesn't. He likes the idea of feeding Stiles, of providing for him—even as he reminds himself that Stiles is dating someone.
Derek gives Stiles a soft smile and hands him a plate. "Bon appétit."
Stiles sits at the table where Ren and Lexie are already seated. Derek sets their plates in front of them, then takes his place across from Stiles at the round table.
"So what is this?" Stiles asks, holding his plate to his nose and inhaling. He looks close to drooling. "Seriously, it smells so good."
"It's Mississippi Pot Roast."
"It's our favorite!" Ren proclaims.
Lexie nods as she digs in.
"Damn," Stiles says through a mouthful. "That is really fucking good!"
"Swear jar," Ren says, pointing his finger at their makeshift box labeled 'Sware Jar for Fuchure Cat' that sits on the breakfast bar. "That's two dollars now, Stiles."
Derek chuckles and shakes his head as he takes a bite. "Told you he had a potty mouth."
Soon, the dining room is nothing but silverware clanking against plates and appreciative noises as they finish their food. Then it's the scrape of chairs when Lexie and Ren run off. Followed by Derek yelling, "Wash your hands, please!"
Stiles sits back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. "That is my new favorite meal. Seriously, I'm googling the recipe when I get home."
"We have plenty of leftovers. You could take some with you."
"No, nonono. I feel guilty for even coming over, but I couldn't resist."
Still, no matter what Stiles says, Derek packs him up some leftovers. "I insist. Also, you said you have the belt for the washing machine, right? I can come fix it for you now if you want."
"Are you sure? I've already imposed and, I mean, I can get my dad to do it or something."
What about Jameson or Jasper or whatever the hell his name is? Derek wants to ask, but he's too stubborn. Plus, this isn't his relationship. Stiles hasn't complained about his boyfriend or even asked for Derek's input. After what he went through with the pups, he's definitely not one to give unsolicited advice. It would be wrong to insert himself into a situation he knows nothing about.
For now, all Derek can do is try to help whenever he can.
"It's not an imposition. I really don't mind. It's either that or the pups will make me watch A Series of Unfortunate Events. Again. Do you know how many times we've watched the movie so far this month?" Derek holds up four fingers. "I can't do it again. Please, don't make me do it again."
Stiles's eyes crinkle in the corners as he laughs. "Alright, alright. As long as we count this as me actually doing you a favor."
"I will definitely owe you one," Derek promises. "Let me tell them where I'm going and I'll be over in a few, okay?"
"Sounds good. And thanks again, Derek."
With that, Stiles walks—more like does the cutest little penguin shuffle—out the back door.
Less than thirty minutes later, Derek's pushing Stiles's washing machine back into its spot once they've made sure it runs properly.
"All done," he proclaims.
"Wow, thanks. You made that look so easy." Stiles smiles.
"Well, thankfully, there weren't any issues."
"I bet you could have still fixed it."
Derek shrugs. Probably, but he doesn't want to gloat.
The front door slams shut, putting Derek on alert. He listens in case it's one of the kids looking for him.
Instead, he hears a yell up the stairs, "Hey, Stiles. Something smells good, what'd you make me?"
Jackson.
"Does he always talk to you like that?" Derek growls.
"Huh?" Stiles looks genuinely confused.
"That guy. Jason or whatever."
"Jackson?"
"Yeah. Him."
Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, giving Derek a look like he's insane. He probably is, but he's the one here fixing Stiles's washing machine while Jackson strolls in like nothing.
"Jackson's a special brand of dick, but it's all good. I'm used to it by now." Stiles waves away his concerns.
Derek scoffs. "Are you kidding me?" He didn't want to get involved, but Stiles is nine months pregnant, and Jackson came over demanding food without even checking on him first. "That's not something you should have to get used to."
"What the fuck's going on in here?" Jackson stands in the doorway, hands on his hips and scowl on his face.
Derek glares at him. "I'm fixing the washing machine that you should have taken care of."
Jackson's scowl drops to something more like amusement, which pisses Derek off even more. Especially when he glances at Stiles with an expression that screams, I told you so. "Oh? And why, pray tell, should I have been the one to fix it?"
"Because that's what you're supposed to do for your omega. Especially when he's carrying your pups!"
"Whoa, what?" Stiles holds his hands up in a placating manner. "I think there's been a serious misunderstanding here."
"The only misunderstanding is that he—" Derek jabs a finger in Jackson's direction— "doesn't appreciate you. And I know it's not my place, but you deserve someone who respects and values you. Someone who cherishes you. You're carrying his babies and he just waltzes in demanding food without even making sure you've eaten or, or—"
Derek lets out a frustrated breath.
Dammit, he likes Stiles, and to see Stiles with someone like Jackson—
"You deserve better. That's all I'm saying."
"Well, clearly you think you're better, so why don't you do something about it?" Jackson smirks at him, and Derek wants to punch it off his pretty face.
"Did you seriously just offer me your boyfriend?"
"Okay, guys, again, I think there's been a mis—" Stiles interrupts, but Derek's not listening.
"You're a real piece of work, Jaden."
"My name is Jackson, Derek, but please, go on." Jackson looks entirely too amused. "I'd like to know how you'd make a better boyfriend than me. Ethan'll get a kick out of this."
"Who the fuck is Ethan?"
"Jackson, stop being such a fucking jackass." Stiles tugs on Derek's arm, pulling him away from where he's inched closer to Jackson. "Derek, this is Jackson. My best friend. Not my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend."
"I—what? But you're pregnant with his babies."
"His and his husband's. I'm their surrogate."
Oh.
Well, shit.
Jackson snorts. "Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em, Stilinski."
"Jesus, Jackson, would you just go? I'll call you later."
Derek keeps his head down. He usually doesn't blush, but there's no way his cheeks and ears aren't flushed bright red in embarrassment.
"I…may have made…an assumption." Derek clears his throat. He's embarrassed and stubbornly hates admitting when he's wrong. "I…can see now…that I was mistaken."
He should know better. Lack of communication, jumping to conclusions, not fucking talking at all—they're all classic ways things get fucked up.
"You were. But that's not all on you. I mean, Jackson said he thought you might have thought he and I were together, but I—" Stiles shakes his head. "I tried to tell you a couple of times, but then we got interrupted. And…I mean, I could tell you were into me, but also, it's hard to believe you'd really be into me considering…y'know." He rubs his belly.
"I think you're beautiful," Derek says quickly. From the very first moment they met, that night in the bar all those years ago, Derek thought Stiles was the most beautiful omega he'd ever seen. "You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now."
"I think you're a little biased."
Derek raises a brow. "Oh yeah? How's that?"
Stiles takes one step, then two and three steps closer until they're chest to chest. Well, as much as they can be with Stiles's belly in the way. "You've got a bit of a breeding kink, Derek Hale."
Derek swallows thickly. He remembers that night and the way Stiles writhed beneath him, begging for his knot. The way Stiles said, 'You wanna see me filled, don't you? You know what it looks like when I'm full of your cum, just wait until you see me pregnant.' and 'Wait until you fill me with your pups.'
Stiles gives him a low napalm smile that sets his entire body on fire. "You remember, don't you?"
Derek can only nod.
"That was a good night. I thought maybe it was the start of something—"
"Special," they say at the same time.
"Yeah." Stiles takes his hand, holding it to his chest. "Can you honestly tell me this doesn't bother you?"
"You being pregnant?"
"Yeah."
"It doesn't bother me," Derek answers honestly. "I mean, I feel better knowing you're not having pups with that guy, but even if you were, I'd still feel the same. I've never felt like this with someone before."
"Me neither. I-I really like you, Derek."
Derek reaches up, his thumb grazing Stiles's lip. He can do that now. Such a simple thing as touching Stiles like that. It takes his breath away. "I really like you too."
Then he has a thought. "Hey. Do you think I could finally get your number?"
Stiles barks out a laugh as he shakes his head.
Derek's eyes slip closed as Stiles leans forward. There's a gentle press of lips against his, and when Stiles lets his hand go, Derek pulls him as close as he can, swallowing down his sigh.
The kiss only lasts for a moment, but it's filled with promises.
Of their future. Of their forever.
And Derek knows this is only the beginning of the rest of their lives.
(epilogue)
It's their first Christmas as a family, and Derek wants it to be special. So, while they have two perfectly good artificial Christmas trees in storage, Derek takes everyone to the Christmas tree farm he always went to when he lived here before.
"The first time I came here," Derek tells them as they walk through the different rows of pine trees, fresh snow from an early storm crunching beneath their boots. "I was about four years old, and I was really excited to pick out a tree. But then I cried because my parents made me leave the baby trees behind."
Lexie and Ren chuckle, likely imagining a chubby baby Derek crying. Thanks to his mom and Cora, they've seen all the pictures. So has Stiles.
"You were adorable," Stiles says, his cheeks rosy from the cold. His winter coat hangs open, exposing his belly. Derek rubs a hand over it. He can't believe Stiles is already six months pregnant with their baby.
Things moved fast after they got together at the beginning of the year. Shortly after Stiles had Jackson's babies, his lease was up, so he moved in with Derek and the kids. It made sense since they spent all their time together anyway.
And then Stiles's heat came. They talked about whether Stiles would go on birth control since having a heat again meant he could—and likely would—get pregnant again.
Derek was a little hesitant, but Stiles was ready to expand their family.
Still. He tried reasoning with Stiles. 'But the doctor said that even though you'll have a heat, it's best to wait at least a year.'
'Unless you're not ready for more kids,' Stiles had said. It was the only argument he would accept for them to wait. 'I'm ready.' He'd placed Derek's hands over his flat stomach. Derek had groaned, already imagining Stiles pregnant with their pup. It was a weakness that Stiles loved to exploit anytime—and every time—they made love. 'I want this with you.'
And, God, Derek wanted it too. Even though Stiles had been a surrogate, Derek loved seeing him pregnant. Loved rubbing his hands over the swell of Stiles's belly. Loved the way Stiles waddled as he walked. Loved being there for him. Taking care of him.
How could he possibly say no?
So he didn't, and now they're dredging through the snow to pick out a Christmas tree as a family, the same way Derek did when he was younger.
It leaves Derek feeling bittersweet, a gentle warmth in his heart mixed with a tinge of sadness—a reminder that some things aren't quite the same as they used to be. But still. He takes in the sight of his family—of the kids playing in front of them, scooping up snow and throwing heaps of it in the air. The snowflakes softly dust their shoulders, and he smiles.
Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, taking a deep breath and savoring the cold air and the scent of pine. "Where should we start?"
"It looks like there are lots of baby trees over here," Stiles says with a smirk.
Derek leans down and brushes his nose against Stiles's before kissing him softly.
"You're an asshole," he whispers, though it's without malice. He loves when Stiles teases him.
Stiles chuckles, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his whole face lights up. "I love you too."
"Which one should we get?" Lexie asks, her little face scrunched up against the sun shining down on her.
Ren falls back and spreads his arms and legs wide as he makes a snow angel. His voice is loud as he exclaims, "I want a big one! Papa said we can get a big big one since you're so strong, daddy!"
Derek raises a brow, but Stiles only grins as he shrugs.
"Well, you are," Stiles says, squeezing his bicep—which Derek absolutely does not flex.
Nope.
Yes, he does.
Stiles snorts but quickly tells the kids, "Pick whichever one you want."
It takes twenty minutes, and surprisingly minimal arguing before the kids find the perfect tree—a gorgeous spruce that stands at least four feet taller than Derek. Good thing they have high ceilings.
Lexie and Ren watch wide-eyed while Derek chops it down. Their giggles fill the air as he drags it back toward the main building, muttering curses under his breath. As an alpha werewolf, he might have superhuman strength, but a heavy tree is still a heavy fucking tree.
"Thank God we don't have a swear jar anymore," Stiles says.
Derek would flip him off if he had a free hand.
By the time they make it back to the main building, Derek's forgotten about it.
While the tree gets wrapped, Stiles slips an arm around Derek's waist, resting his head on Derek's shoulder.
"This is going to be the best Christmas," Stiles says quietly.
"It is." Derek smiles softly and brushes his lips against Stiles's forehead when he looks up. "I love you."
"And I love you."
"Daddy! Papa!" Ren calls out, pointing toward the shop.
"Can we go inside?" Lexie asks, practically vibrating with excitement. "The sign says they have hot chocolate!"
"Alright. Go ahead," Derek tells them before kissing Stiles's forehead again. "Go with them. I'll stay here and handle the tree."
"You sure? We can wait."
"I'm sure."
Stiles gives him a quick kiss before following the kids into the little shop.
They come out ten minutes later as Derek's tying the tree over the roof of their new car—a silver Toyota SJ Cruiser. It's a few years old, but Derek wanted something more reliable than his Camaro or Stiles's Jeep when they go somewhere as a family.
"Is it secure?" Stiles asks once Derek's done, holding out a steaming hot cup of hot cocoa.
Derek takes it, inhaling the scent of cinnamon, caramel, and vanilla before taking a sip. So good.
"Yup," he assures Stiles.
Lexie and Ren smile brightly and press their hands over their hearts as they admire the tree. Each of them has a cup of hot cocoa and a little bag, but Derek doesn't ask what's in it.
"It's perfect," Ren says, and Lexie nods in agreement.
Derek grins and looks back at Stiles. He's beaming. His smile is so beautiful that Derek can't help but brush his knuckles down Stiles's cheek and give him a soft kiss.
"Ready to go home?" he finally asks after a moment.
"Yeah."
Everyone climbs in and buckles up. Derek had already started the car, so it was nice and warm for them, especially Stiles.
Gravel crunches beneath the wheels as he pulls out of the parking lot.
A bag rustles in the back, and when Derek glances at the rearview mirror, he sees Ren smiling—big and wide. "Daddy, guess what? We picked out ornaments for the tree!"
Derek raises a brow. "Yeah? What'd you get?"
Ren holds up a translucent blue, glass wolf. "I was gonna get a sparkly black one but papa got that one for you, so then I found this one! Look, daddy. You can almost see through it!"
"That looks awesome, pup."
"This one's mine!" Lexie says, holding up a howling grey wolf. Then she and Ren throw their heads back and howl. "Awoo!"
Derek chuckles as he looks at Stiles. "So where's my sparkly black one?"
"I've got it right here." Stiles pats the bag on his lap as he takes a sip of his hot cocoa. "God, that's good."
"And for you? Did you pick an ornament, too?"
"Of course." Stiles pulls out a wood ornament. When he turns it over in his hands, Derek smiles softly at the wolf family carved into it. Stiles doesn't have to say anything for Derek to understand its meaning. Not only are they family, but they're pack.
"It's perfect," Derek says, and he couldn't be happier.