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novkat21 · 2 months

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Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. ...or the one where Stiles and Derek's kids had no shame.

ONE

Potty training was a nightmare.

Stiles shook his head and sighed as he helped Eli out of his training pants. Ugh. Not only were they running late for dinner at his dad’s, but Derek had just tossed the last load of laundry in that morning too, finally catching them up from the mound of clothes that seemed to pile up ever since Eli decided he couldn’t wear an outfit for more than an hour.

Weren’t kids supposed to be adorable and not constantly creating chaos or leaving disasters in their wake?

Still, as frustrated as he was that Eli had yet another accident, Stiles knew he shouldn’t be too upset. Eli was only two and his accidents were getting few and far between. He was even making it through the night without wetting the bed now. A feat he was very proud of announcing every morning during breakfast. Stiles was pretty sure it was because Derek made such a show of how proud he was.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Stiles told him, tipping Eli’s chin up so he was looking into his eyes. He put a smile on his face, not wanting Eli to think he was mad or disappointed in him. “Accidents happen.” And then, because Stiles wanted Eli to know that everyone made mistakes, that no one was perfect, he added, “There was one time when I got so into a video game, I pretty much peed my pants because I waited too long to go to the bathroom.”

Eli stared at him with wide eyes, as if he were trying to process the idea that his dad was once a kid like him, making similar mistakes. Shit. Who was Stiles kidding? Eli was two. His thought process was probably more like, Daddy peed himself, too? Stiles wasn’t about to tell Eli that he was damn near a teenager when it happened.

“A really silly thing to do, huh?” Stiles continued, his tone light and encouraging. “But that just goes to show, even daddies make mistakes. We just have to remember to learn from them and try to do better next time.”

Eli blinked at him a couple of times and then his small face broke into a grin that could rival Derek’s. Eli might have been a mini-Stiles, but there were times when all Stiles could see was Derek. And that smile was one of them.

“O-tay, Daddy,” Eli said, hugging Stiles as tightly as a two-year-old could.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, hugging him back and patting the top of his head gently. “Alright, but it’s time for a bath. And it’s gotta be quick because we’re heading over to Grandpa’s house for dinner.”

Eli lit up at that and finished undressing while Stiles got the bath ready.

Forty minutes later, they pulled up in front of his dad’s house. Stiles helped Eli out of the Jeep and then waved at Mrs. Wilson, one of his dad’s neighbors, who was working in her garden. She’d lived there for as long as Stiles could remember.

“Good to see you boys again. Visiting your dad for dinner?” she asked, holding a hand up to block the sun as she smiled at them. “No husband tonight?”

“Derek’s got a late shift,” Stiles told her, nearly falling when Eli pulled away from him to run over to her. Despite his age and tiny stature, he was strong. Not a surprise since he took after Derek in that respect. Damn werewolf genetics. He’d probably be an alpha, too.

Eli squinted as he squatted next to her, that ever-present curiosity etched all over his face as he watched her dig into the soil.

“I had an accident,” he told her, making Stiles chuckle. Not just because it was so funny how candid kids were, especially toddlers—seriously, they just had no shame. But because the way Eli said “accident” made it sound more like ass-ident. Before Stiles could correct him on the pronunciation, Eli continued, “But my daddy said it was o-tay. He has accidents too.”

Oh, Christ.

Stiles ran a hand down his face, wondering if this was part of that payback his dad always mentioned. It went something like, ’Enjoy the peace now because someday your kids will throw the stuff you did back in your face.’

“Well, isn’t that just a good thing to know,” Mrs. Wilson said, blinking and then laughing so hard she started to cough. Stiles was about to rush over, but she waved him off and composed herself.

“Oh, such honesty from such a small person.” She continued to laugh, patting Eli lightly on the head before sending him clambering back to Stiles.

Shaking his head, Stiles scooped up his tiny mischief-maker, who was giggling like a giddy gnome. The little tattle-tale. God, Derek was going to laugh his ass off when he got home from work tonight.

***

TWO

Stiles snorted as he walked into the bathroom. He couldn’t even be a little upset at all the water on the floor when Derek looked too damn funny sitting on the floor beside the tub, completely soaked from Eli’s splashing. Not a surprise considering their five-year-old somehow always left a disaster in his wake.

With one hand on his belly, Stiles stood in the doorway. The twins kicked under his palm, probably not appreciating his laughter since it jostled them around—and there wasn’t a whole lot of room left for movement since he was due in a few (hopefully) short weeks.

“Are you…laughing at me?” Derek asked as he stood, water dripping from his hair.

Stiles shook his head, eyes narrowed at the gleam in Derek’s eyes. It spoke of mischief and mayhem, and Stiles had a pretty good idea of what Derek was about to do.

“Uh uh. No way, don’t you even think about it,” he warned at Derek’s slow approach. But that didn’t seem to deter Derek, who stalked over, shaking his head like a wet dog. Each droplet that made its way toward Stiles had him laughing harder, his rounded belly bouncing with the effort. Eli’s laughter rang through the air, clearly finding this whole spectacle tremendously amusing.

Little traitor, Stiles thought fondly before turning his gaze back to Derek.

“I’ll get you for this,” he declared amidst fits of laughter, but Derek only grinned at him, his eyes soft with affection.

Eli continued giggling, his tiny hands clapping together with glee, utterly oblivious to the wet chaos happening around him. Or maybe because of the chaos since the bathroom, already half-flooded, had transformed into his own private water park.

Stiles gripped Derek’s arms, smiling up at him. “You’re cleaning this up, y'know.”

“Eli is. Aren’t you, bud?” Derek called out, never taking his eyes off Stiles before he kissed him on the tip of his nose. “He already knows he has to clean up the mess he made.”

“Something tells me this wasn’t just him…” Stiles said, narrowing his eyes, though there was no heat in his glare.

Derek gave him a megawatt smile, the kind reserved for Stiles and Stiles alone. “The little shit splashed me. I had to get payback.”

Stiles laughed again, tossing his head back. He slid his hands up to Derek’s shoulders, then to the back of his head, threading his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“I may have gone…overboard.” Derek’s words were muffled as he buried his face in the crook of Stiles’s neck, his breath warm, making Stiles shiver. Not just from the contrast of the cold water soaking through his shirt, but from the flood of arousal coursing through his veins at Derek’s proximity. A spark ignited in Stiles’s belly, warming him from the inside out despite the water that was steadily soaking into his shirt.

But now was not the time for that.

“Well, since you helped make the mess"—he gently tugged on Derek’s hair until Derek lifted his head—"you get to help your son clean up.”

Derek leaned in and nipped at his jaw. “Did I ever tell you that I like it when you’re bossy?”

Stiles would be offended if it weren’t for the teasing lilt of Derek’s voice or the playful smile on his stupidly handsome face. There was also the fact that Stiles was rendered speechless as Derek pulled away and yanked his shirt over his head. Stiles would never ever—ever—get used to the sight of a shirtless Derek Hale. Not even after nearly ten years together.

“Not. Fair,” he ground out, already forgetting whatever quip he’d been about to throw out.

Derek chuckled, the sound reverberating off the walls as he grabbed a couple of dirty towels from the laundry hamper. He tossed them on the floor, laying them out over the water. When Stiles stepped further into the room, Derek held a hand out, a silent offer to help him cross the slippery surface.

Accepting Derek’s hand, Stiles carefully walked over to the bathtub, sitting on the edge to watch Eli while Derek cleaned up.

“Take off your shirt,” Derek told him, reminding Stiles that it was wet now after Derek’s impromptu water attack. “I’ll get you a new one.”

Without hesitation, Stiles did as he was told, pulling the soaked garment over his head and tossing it in the direction of the hamper. “Now who’s the bossy one?”

“Still you.” Derek pressed a kiss to the top of his head before exiting the bathroom, leaving Stiles alone with Eli.

Eli, ever the fiendish five-year-old, was quick to dip his hands in the water once more and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, flicked water at him. Stiles shook his head as a few rogue droplets struck against his bare chest.

“Nuh uh, no more water shenanigans,” he chided lightly, pointing a firm finger at Eli, who responded with an infectious, toothy grin, his head bobbing as he giggled. “Did Daddy already wash your hair?”

Eli nodded, scooping bubbles into his palm and scooting closer to Stiles. “Daddy, what are these?”

Before Stiles could ask what he meant, Eli stuck his little hands out, smacking his palms against Stiles’s slightly larger-than-normal chest and squeezing. Stiles yelped because one, it was cold, and two, his chest was more sensitive now that his milk was already coming in.

Stiles gently wrapped his fingers around Eli’s small wrists, pulling his far too curious child’s hands away. “Well, I’m an omega, and since I’m pregnant—”

“With Caleb and Clara!” Eli interrupted, always so excited to talk about his baby brother and sister.

“Yes, with Caleb and Clara,” Stiles continued. “Since I’m an omega, I’m able to produce milk, so I can feed them after they’re born.”

Eli nodded as if he knew exactly what Stiles was talking about. “Like a cow? We learned about them when we went to the farm.”

Christ. Stiles could already picture the hysterics Derek was bound to have when he heard about this. With a laugh, he ruffled Eli’s wet hair affectionately, listening to him talk about the field trip he’d gone on to one of the nearby farms. And just as he was imagining Derek’s comical response, the man himself walked back into the room, clean and dry, and holding fresh towels and a shirt for Stiles. Stiles took in the sight before him with an appreciative hum. Even after all their years together, the sight of Derek still gave him butterflies.

“I heard that,” Derek said, a half-exasperated, half-amused look on his face as he leaned down and tipped Stiles’s chin up, giving him a sweet kiss. “And don’t worry, I’d still love you even if you started bellowing.”

Stiles snorted at that, taking his shirt from Derek. “Wow. You really know how to charm a guy, don’t you, Hale?”

Derek’s only response was a quick wink before he turned back toward Eli and his bath. “Alright. Bath time is over. Time for bed.”

As Eli opened his mouth, no doubt ready to start negotiations for ’just five more minutes, please,’ Stiles pulled the fresh shirt over his head, still laughing over the entire interaction.

***

THREE

A warm breath tickled the back of Stiles’s neck and he inhaled sharply, letting out a quiet moan as the scent of freshly made waffles wafted through the room. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light seeping in through the bedroom curtains, painting the room in hues of golden yellow.

The bed dipped and he turned, blinking up at his smiling husband.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Derek whispered before leaning down and stealing a sweet kiss.

Stiles sighed, bringing a hand up and carding it through Derek’s hair. It was so soft, and he loved running his fingers through it.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. He drew his hand back and sat up, shivering slightly when the sheets pooled at his waist, exposing his bare torso. “Where are the kids?”

Even if they let him sleep in, they’d still be the ones to run in and wake him. Usually by jumping all over the bed—and him.

Derek set a tray filled with plates of food on his lap. “It’s almost noon. Laura picked them up this morning.”

Stiles frowned in confusion. Almost noon? Damn. He must have been more tired than he realized after getting home from work last night. Then again, he’d done back-to-back doubles to help cover some shifts, since a couple of the deputies were out on medical leave.

“She did?” As far as Stiles knew, they didn’t have any plans with her. However, she was also the ’fun aunt’ and prone to unexpected visits.

“Yeah. She said she was giving us the day and was taking the kids to some park or another,” Derek clarified before chuckling.

Stiles nodded absentmindedly, his eyes straying away from Derek to survey the breakfast banquet laid out before him. Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, bacon, and eggs.

“With Caleb and Clara?” he asked.

They were only three but somehow still in their terrible twos. It was brave of her to volunteer to take them, Stiles thought. Dealing with their twin tornadoes single-handedly was no simple feat. Hell, Eli wasn’t that much better at times, though he was only seven.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, rubbing Stiles’s back. “But the rest of the pack were meeting her there. Plus, she packed up all their favorite toys and snacks. Even their nap mats. They’ll be fine.”

Stiles relaxed at that. He felt better knowing the others would be there to help Laura, especially when the twins were in their most energetic moods.

“I hope she knows what she’s getting into,” he mumbled around a forkful of eggs. “Pack or no pack.”

Derek chuckled again, pulling Stiles closer and snagging a piece of bacon. “I’m sure she’ll manage. Now eat.”

Savoring the peaceful moment, Stiles dug into the breakfast Derek made. The waffles were fluffy and sweet, inviting him to take another bite.

It wasn’t long before all the food was gone and Derek got up to put the tray on the dresser. He was shirtless, his back muscles rippling in the sunlight that poured in through the windows.

Stiles watched in silent appreciation. Okay, maybe not so silent because a little moan slipped out when Derek turned. His sweatpants were thin. So thin that Stiles could tell he wasn’t wearing anything under them by the impressive outline of Derek’s dick as it hung against his thigh.

And just like that Stiles’s boxers were damp with slick.

Derek’s eyes flashed crimson, nose flaring as he inhaled. A quiet growl slipped out, making Stiles shiver the way it always did.

“Derek,” Stiles said in an inviting whisper, sliding down until he was lying flat on his back on the bed, legs spread wide. The cool sheets against his warm skin sent another shiver through him.

Derek was there in an instant, pinning him to the mattress with a playful growl. His weight was a welcome heat as his large hands roamed over Stiles’s chest. Soft kisses followed the trail, igniting a heat within him that only Derek could kindle.

Stiles gasped and arched his back, wanting more—relentless desire bubbling up inside him, his breath hitching.

“God, Derek.” Stiles whimpered when Derek latched onto one of his nipples, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub teasingly. Stiles’s heart pounded in his chest as excited anticipation washed over him, and he surged upward in response, grabbing at Derek and pressing their lips together hungrily.

Their tongues collided, exploring each other in a dance as familiar as the beat of their hearts. Derek pulled back momentarily, his gaze filled with warmth and desire.

Stiles slid a hand down Derek’s chest to his stomach, fingers scratching through the coarse hair there before reaching the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants. The sight of Derek’s dilated pupils and the feel of his fast-beating heart against his chest had Stiles grinning like a fool. His heart flipped with anticipation as he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband, wrapping his hand around Derek’s dick. It was hot and silky smooth. Rock hard.

Derek shuddered under his touch.

“God, Stiles,” Derek groaned, his voice roughened by desire. He rolled his hips into Stiles’s touch, nuzzling against his cheek as he continued to murmur breathy praises. Every whisper whetted Stiles’s deepening delight, coaxing him further into the delightful haze settling around them.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed out, his hand working a steady rhythm as he absorbed Derek’s reactions. His heart pounded in sync with the thrum of desire coursing through him.

Derek’s hands were everywhere—gripping his hips, tracing his ribs, raking fingers down his flanks.

Derek kissed him again. Deeply, heatedly. His hand drifted over Stiles’s chest, down to his stomach, and then even lower to brush against the sticky dampness in his boxers. A sharp intake of breath followed, and Stiles’s hips bucked up into Derek’s hand.

“Derek!” Stiles yelped, his fingers tightening around Derek’s dick. The sudden movement earned a ragged moan from Derek.

“I’ve got you,” Derek murmured, nipping at Stiles’s jaw and thrusting into his fist. “Let me take care of you.”

The onslaught of sensations had Stiles moaning loudly, but he didn’t care about the noise. Derek didn’t either, Stiles knew that. He knew that it only spurred Derek on. The world outside didn’t exist when they were lost in the thrill of each other.

Then Derek worked his way down Stiles’s body, leaving a trail of feverish kisses in his wake. When he finally reached the waistband of Stiles’s boxers, he glanced up at Stiles, a devastatingly handsome smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

So unfair.

Stiles responded by biting his lower lip, his cheeks heating from how much he wanted Derek’s mouth on his cock. How much he wanted Derek’s tongue on his slick hole.

By the primal and feral look in his eyes, Derek seemed to understand, catching the hint as he slid fingers under the band of Stiles’s boxers and pulled them down. Even in the midst of pleasure, his actions were careful and delicate, a testament to his love and reverence for Stiles.

Once he was naked, Derek began taking him apart, his tongue expertly teasing and tasting. Slowly and sweetly. His scruffy jaw scraped Stiles’s thighs, and it was sensory overload, leaving Stiles a moaning mess beneath him, his pleas and gasps echoing around the room. It was as if Derek was everywhere, all at once, his hands gripping Stiles at the same time his mouth consumed him, drawing out cries that filled the air. Stiles couldn’t hold back any longer; not when Derek ate him out like he was starving for him. Not when Derek thrust two fingers into him, curling and flexing them as he sucked Stiles’s cock in a way that made his toes curl.

Stiles was reduced to gasping whimpers as Derek worked his fingers inside him. Torturing him in the best of ways until every nerve in his body sang and the only words left in his vocabulary were please and fuck.

Derek looked up at him through hooded eyes, and with the way he was kneeling, Stiles could see his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants. It was decadently sinful.

“Derek, please.” Stiles wasn’t sure what he was begging for. He tangled his fingers in Derek’s hair, urging him on. Wanting more.

More of his mouth.

More of his fingers.

His cock.

“Yes.” Derek’s voice was rough, filled with desire. His movements paused for a second as he swiftly removed his sweatpants, leaving him as exposed as Stiles was. The sight of him was breathtaking, all muscle and skin. And pure raw power. His eyes were a darkened crimson, a sign of how turned on he was.

Stiles watched with anticipation as Derek settled between his spread legs. He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few good strokes.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was a low growl as he positioned himself at Stiles’s slick hole.

An expectant silence fell between them as they both caught their breaths, eyes locked, sharing an intimate stare that spoke volumes of the unbridled love between them.

“Ready?” Derek asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, a tender lilt tinging the last syllable.

Stiles nodded, his lips slowly turning into a smile as he looped his arms and legs around Derek, pulling him closer. Needing to feel all of him.

The moment Derek bottomed out, a shared moan escaped them, the sound echoing around the room, mixed with the soft rustling of the sheets. God, Derek felt so good. Filled him up so perfectly. And when Derek rolled his hips, Stiles matched the rhythm to a beat primal in nature as Derek’s heart pounded against his own—their pulses drumming an unraveling symphony. Pleasure wrapped around Stiles like a living, breathing entity.

Taunting him.

Teasing him.

Luring him into the abyss.

“Oh f-fuck,” Stiles stuttered, his fingers digging into the small of Derek’s back in an attempt to bring him closer, to feel more of him, even though there wasn’t a molecule of space between them.

Derek wrapped his arms underneath Stiles, holding him tightly as he thrust into him. It was hard enough that Stiles gasped, but Derek swallowed the sound, capturing Stiles’s lips in a searing kiss, rocking into him and setting a leisurely pace that was all about pleasure, not urgency.

“Good?” Derek asked after a few minutes, his voice husky and strained. Stiles knew he was holding back, prolonging the moment. Making it last since this was something they didn’t get to experience much anymore outside of Stiles’s heat and Derek’s rut.

“So good,” Stiles breathed out, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Derek kept up the rhythm, matching Stiles’s breaths, pleasuring him in a way that was both new and achingly familiar. The room filled with the sweet and intoxicating scent of Derek and them. It was all Stiles needed. All he wanted.

Their pace fastened gradually, turning more desperate. More urgent. Escalating the euphoria coursing through Stiles. Derek held Stiles’s thighs, lifting his hips to meet his every thrust. Stiles gripped his cock, stroking himself, and the oncoming climax was inevitable. He welcomed it with open arms, letting it pull him under its exhilarating tide—his release spilling hot and sticky between them.

It only intensified when Derek’s knot swelled, filling him in the most delicious way. Especially when Derek’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own pleasure.

“Stiles. StilesStilesStiles,” Derek groaned, as if Stiles’s name was all he could say, all he could think about as the pleasure built up, threatening to break him apart.

And then it did. Every muscle in Derek’s body went rigid, his grip tightening around Stiles as he emptied himself into Stiles with a roar that shook their room before biting down on Stiles’s mating bite.

Stiles gasped at the bright sting of pain that quickly flooded into an overwhelming wave of euphoria as he tumbled into the abyss with Derek, another orgasm ripping through him that had him shuddering. That had his vision blurring, ears filled with only Derek’s rough growls and the pounding of his own heart.

He clung to Derek as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours. Time held no meaning as exquisite fatigue washed over him until he emerged from his orgasmic trance, still trembling from the aftershocks.

Derek was somehow both gentle and steadfast, his large hands soothing and grounding him as he traced delicate patterns across Stiles’s skin, quiet in the wake of their shared pleasure.

“You back with me?” Derek asked, his voice barely audible but filled with a teasing hint of relief and satisfaction. His hands caressed Stiles’s sides, a calming and relaxing touch. His whole body enveloped Stiles. Muscular and masculine. Strength and warmth. Comfort.

Stiles found the strength to nod, a gentle murmur escaping his lips. “Mmm… Always with you.”

Derek’s chest rumbled with a pleased purr as he nosed at Stiles’s throat, planting languid kisses there.

“Tired,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shoulder, drowsiness creeping up on him, heightened by the post-coital relaxation flooding his system.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles as he nosed against his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You can sleep. I’ll clean us up when my knot goes d—”

The sound of minions giggling interrupted him, announcing Derek had a phone call. The ringtone never failed to make Stiles laugh, though Derek grumbled and let out a groan of dissent, pressing his nose deeper into Stiles’s hair, inhaling deeply.

“Worse damn timing,” he muttered, not moving to answer the call.

Stiles rubbed his back, chuckling as he fought sleep. “You should check that.”

Just in case it was Laura since she had the kids.

Derek grumbled again as he propped himself up on one elbow to reach for his phone on the nightstand, careful of his knot. It tugged deliciously on Stiles’s rim, but he bit back his moan as Derek answered the call.

“Hey. Everything alright?” Derek asked before mouthing, ’Laura,’ so Stiles knew who it was.

He couldn’t hear her response, but after a minute, Derek snorted. In fact, his whole body shook with laughter, making Stiles moan as Derek’s knot tugged at his rim again.

Laura must have heard it because Derek rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who called after taking the kids to—and I quote—’give you some time alone’. You even winked.”

Whatever she said made Derek shake his head. He fumbled with the phone and said, “Hold on. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“You’re lucky you’re my favorite brother…” Laura’s voice came through the phone’s speaker. “I say again, I can’t believe you answered the phone while you’re knotted.”

“He’s your only brother,” Stiles pointed out. “And of course, we’re going to answer. You have our kids. It could have been an emergency.”

“Not an emergency, no. But definitely something that needs to be addressed!” Laura’s voice came through the phone’s speaker. “And it’s not funny, Derek! I thought he was potty trained!”

“Uh…does someone wanna fill me in?” Stiles was a bit lost. And very confused. “Everyone’s potty trained…?”

“Sure,” Laura said, sounding perfectly unamused. “Caleb probably was until he decided to relieve himself when we sat down for a snack. Just dropped his pants and peed against the closest tree!”

Stiles couldn’t hide his laugh as he imagined the scene: Laura standing there in shocked horror as Caleb peed liberally on a tree with a satisfied expression on his face.

This was definitely an ’I told you so’ moment. More for Derek—and Isaac—since they’d insisted on showing the boys they could just pee on a tree when they were outside. Though they’d obviously meant at home or in the preserve, and not, as Caleb had interpreted it, whenever and wherever the mood struck him. Unfortunately, that valuable/awful lesson seemed to have stuck.

“That’s…awww man. Sorry about that, Laura,” Stiles managed to say, trying to stifle his laughter now. “But technically that shows he’s potty trained. It wasn’t like he peed in his pants.”

Besides, the twins were still in training pants, so even if Caleb had had an accident, it wouldn’t have been too bad.

“Yeah, it's real hilarious,” Laura continued, sarcasm dripping from every word. “He could have asked one of us to take him to the bathroom! And that’s not even taking into account that Clara tries to hug every bystander within a four-foot radius. I know we’re werewolves, but we’re also trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Werewolf or not, strangers don’t appreciate being hugged by a child they don’t know. Especially when the child also happens to be unusually strong and fast for their age.”

Stiles chuckled again, picturing Clara’s warm, enthusiastic hugs throwing unsuspecting passersby off balance. It was so like her to befriend the world, but he could understand Laura’s frustration.

“Understood, Laura,” Stiles said, pressing his palm flat against Derek’s chest, fingers splayed wide over his heart. “We’ll talk to them, see if we can work on the…social boundaries a bit.”

“’Social boundaries.’ Yeah, I like that. And Derek, you can make sure to explain it to the rest of the pack as well. Erica couldn’t stop laughing and Isaac scored him as if this were America’s Got Talent or some shit. And then he high-fived him. High. Fived. Him,” Laura sighed, a half-laugh hiding in her tone. “Honestly, Boyd’s been my only ally.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at that, knowing full well how everyone was with the kids. “What was the score?”

“Not the point, Stiles,” she chided through the line, but then heard Isaac call out, “Eight out of ten!”

This time Derek laughed, taking the phone off speaker. “We’ll talk to them. All of them. Besides that, how are the kids?”

“Does she wanna bring them home?” Stiles interrupted. He was torn. As much as he loved alone time with Derek, he was always a little antsy when the kids weren’t there.

Derek smiled down at him but shook his head. “Alright. We’ll see you later then. And thanks again.”

He ended the call and placed the phone back on the nightstand. His fingertips left trails of fire as they ghosted over Stiles’s still-sensitive skin. Derek nipped lightly at Stiles’s earlobe, an affectionate gesture that drew forth a soft, contented hum from Stiles.

“They’re having a great time.” Derek’s voice rumbled hot against his skin, each word a soothing caress. “Laura’s got it all under control. We have the house to ourselves for the whole day.”

“Mmm… Sounds like heaven,” Stiles admitted, his voice going husky. He definitely wasn’t tired anymore as Derek ground against him. “God, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Derek murmured in response, tenderly kissing his neck. His breath was hot against Stiles’s skin, causing goosebumps to prickle.

“Always,” Stiles affirmed, dragging his hands down Derek’s back, his breath hitching as Derek shifted just right, sending waves of pleasure spiraling through his still-sensitized body. With a lazy smile, he murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Derek echoed, his comforting presence wrapping around Stiles like a warm blanket. His fingers trailed over Stiles, exploring every curve and dip of his body.

Stiles surrendered to the intoxicating allure of Derek’s touch, content in this moment of stolen tranquility—leaving the phone call and related mishap with the kids to become an amusing memory that fell into the pile of their shared experiences. For now, it was just them, skin on skin and breath on breath.

***

FOUR

“How many pounds should we get?” Stiles called out while staring at the cooler filled with turkeys. It was their year to host Thanksgiving dinner, so he needed to make sure they’d have enough food to feed an army. Which was why they were now at the grocery store. “Actually, it’s more like, how many turkeys should we get?”

If he did the math, at one and a half pounds per person—who was he kidding, these were werewolves, they’d need at least double that—they would have to get at least eighty pounds worth of meat.

“Mom said she was making two,” Derek said, coming up behind him and kissing his shoulder. “One in the oven and the other in the Nesco. If we can find a couple that are at least twenty-five pounds, that should be good.”

Stiles nodded absentmindedly, still doing the math in his head. He was distantly aware of Derek talking to the kids and then Derek kissed his shoulder again, drawing his attention.

“Hmm?” He turned his head, looking at Derek quizzically. “What’s up?”

Derek jerked his head to the side, toward the kids. Eli was playing I Spy with Caleb while Clara was shifting from side to side, which meant—

“I’m going to take her to the bathroom,” Derek told him. Clara was only four; far too young to go by herself. “I’ll be right back.”

“Actually, I’ll take her,” Stiles said since he needed the bathroom, anyway. “Unless you needed to go.”

Derek shook his head and then held his hand out for the shopping list. “I’ll work on the list while you take her.”

Stiles handed it over before taking Clara’s hand and leading her toward the restroom. He was halfway there when his phone vibrated in his pocket. When he fished it out, Lydia’s name lit the screen. Juggling the phone and Clara’s hand, he managed to swipe the call to answer it.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, navigating the rest of the way to the restrooms.

Lydia huffed in a way that said she was having A Day™. “I just need to vent…”

“FYI, I’m taking Clara to the bathroom, but I’m listening,” Stiles told her before she launched into a rant about work. When they got to the front, the family restroom was closed for cleaning, so he nudged the men’s restroom door open with his shoulder and walked Clara inside, opening the door to the first free stall and gesturing for her to go.

While she was using the bathroom, he muted himself and used the urinal then washed and dried his hands, nodding along as Lydia complained about her latest project at work.

Soon, Clara was done, stepping up beside him and trying to reach the soap dispenser with a little ’oof’. Stiles hoisted her up so she could reach, pumping a dollop of soap into her small hands. The foam bubbles brought a grin to her face as she scrubbed her hands.

The restroom door opened, and an older gentleman walked in, quickly making his way into the far stall. It was quiet for a moment, except for the sound of running water as Clara rinsed her hands. And then there was the unmistakable sound of a loud fart as the man in the stall passed gas.

Stiles closed his eyes and braced himself, almost as if he knew what was about to happen before Clara even opened her mouth. And sure enough, half a second later, her little voice called out, “And what do we say when we toot?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his mouth to calmly remind her that this wasn’t home and the man was a stranger, but before he could even get a word out, the man sheepishly responded, “Excuse me. My apologies.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, even as he was mortified.

“I’m so sorry!” he called out, placing his hand on Clara’s shoulder, urging her out of the restroom with a quick, “Let’s go, honey.”

He pressed the button unmuting himself for Lydia again and said, “Oh my God, Lydia, I need to go, but I’ll call you back in a few.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he reassured her quickly, before adding, “Just working on those…social boundaries still. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Lydia burst out laughing on the other end of the call. “Well, I cannot wait to hear this. Talk to you later.”

“Okay,” Stiles huffed a laugh. “Yeah, later.”

With that, he hung up, glancing down at Clara who was looking up at him with an innocent expression, as though she hadn’t just embarrassed a stranger in the restroom. The poor man had probably gone in there to pass gas in peace and wasn’t expecting to get chastised by a toddler.

“You’re not in trouble, but do you remember we talked about how to act around strangers, honey?” Stiles asked, smiling down at her.

Clara nodded her head seriously. “Mmhmm…but Daddy always says we should say ”scuse me’ when we toot.“

Stiles couldn’t hold back his laugh.

"Yes, he does, sweetheart, but it’s a little different when it’s strangers,” he explained, taking her hand. “At home, it’s always okay to remind us to use our manners because we’re family. But sometimes, strangers might feel embarrassed. How about we try not to point it out loudly next time, okay?”

“Okay…” Clara muttered, sounding a little unsure, but she gave him a shy smile and a nod.

Stiles glanced around as they walked down the aisle, looking for Derek and the boys. He spotted them in the freezer section by the frozen pies, where they seemed to be engaged in a deep discussion with them about which pies to choose.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at the sight. “Yeah, we’re not buying frozen pie for Thanksgiving.”

“We’re just looking.” Derek looked relieved to see them. His gaze shifted from Stiles to Clara. “Everything okay?”

Stiles snorted, thinking about their little chat regarding social etiquette. “I’ll tell you about it at home.”

Right now, he just wanted to get the shopping trip over with and hope they didn’t run into the man from the restroom. Derek gave him a curious look but nodded. “Alright.”

He turned back to the boys who were now engaged in a mini-war over which pie was superior—Eli standing firmly on team Pumpkin Pie while Caleb rooted for Apple Pie.

Stiles and Clara joined them, Clara slipping from his grip to pull on Caleb’s shirt, forcing him to pay attention to her.

Derek slid his arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling him close. “Did you want to weigh in on the great Pie debate?”

Shaking his head, a smile played on Stiles’s lips as he watched his family, a laugh escaping his lips.

“I’ll take either, I don’t even really like pie,” he admitted, earning him a shared look of disbelief from Caleb and Eli.

“Never mind, no voting for Dad!” Eli shouted, arms flapping with the exaggerated indignation only a nine-year-old could muster, causing more laughter among the group.

“I like apple pie, like Caleb!” Clara declared, her eyes bright. Her support seemed to swerve the tide in Caleb’s favor.

Caleb flashed a triumphant grin at Eli, who grumpily crossed his arms, not accepting the defeat lightly. But the defeated look on his face didn’t last long as Clara ran up to him, pulling his arm to show him something she found interesting.

As Stiles watched his family, the restroom incident faded into the back of Stiles’s mind. Their chorus of laughter rang out in the quiet warehouse, creating a wholesome symphony he wouldn’t exchange for the world.

***

FIVE

“Should we just pick up dinner on the way home?” Stiles asked as they waited for the final bell to ring. They had the twins’ parent-teacher conference right after school and had gotten there fifteen minutes ago to park since the pickup line could be a nightmare. It was never really a line and people just parked wherever, taking up all the good parking spots. Or, even better, making their own spaces.

Derek hooked his chin over Stiles’s shoulder, holding him from behind. “That sounds good. What should we get?”

Before Stiles could respond, the bell rang.

Derek took his hand, tugging him gently as they walked through the mass of children exiting the building. They headed straight for the kindergarten classroom since Eli always went there anyway to pick up Caleb and Clara before walking out together. It didn’t surprise Stiles to find him already there when they arrived. His classroom might have been on the other side of the building in the fifth-grade hall, but Stiles had no doubt that he’d ignored any and all warnings from teachers about running in the halls as he raced to his siblings.

Sure, they fought and bickered like any other siblings, especially when either of the twins tried to claim his toys, but they were also protective and caring toward one another.

“I beat you!” Eli proclaimed when they walked in.

Stiles gave him a high five as Clara and Caleb ran over, first hugging Derek and then him.

“Why don’t you guys keep playing while we talk to your teacher, okay?” Derek said, gesturing to the blocks on the floor.

Stiles nodded. “Just remember that you’ll need to clean up whatever mess you make, okay?”

The twins nodded enthusiastically before dragging Eli to the mat and pulling him down to sit.

Their teacher, Ms. Bowen stood and gestured for them to sit at the small table next to her desk. “Thank you both for coming in. It’s good to see you again.”

Stiles looked at the child-sized chairs warily before slowly lowering himself onto one. Somehow he always forgot how comically small these seats were designed. Derek took the other chair, managing to make himself look at ease despite the comical mismatch between his large frame and the tiny furniture.

Ms. Bowen took the spot across from them and opened the folder that was in front of her. This might have been the first set of conferences for the school year, but Stiles knew the routine from Eli’s conferences over previous years. Ms. Bowen would detail Caleb and Clara’s academic progress, any classroom behavior concerns, and discuss their social interactions.

And she did.

Ms. Bowen began with Clara, noting her outstanding progress in reading for her age range and her gentle, nurturing dynamic during group tasks. Caleb’s remarkable math skills and enthusiastic class participation were recognized next. It was apparent that both of them were thriving, and flyaway comments about their mannerisms and childhood quirks made Stiles smile. Like Clara’s fondness for mismatched socks and Caleb’s conviction that capes made him run faster.

“Derek, Stiles,” Ms. Bowen began after finishing her report, “Do you have any particular areas of concern, or questions, regarding Clara and Caleb’s progress so far?”

Stiles looked at Derek, who was running a finger along his stubble in thought. He seemed about to speak when the kids burst into giggles on the floor, momentarily distracting them both.

“Nothing comes to mind right now. They’re doing so great, and we’re very proud of them.” Derek finally responded, his gaze shifting back to Ms. Bowen. “But if anything arises, we know you’re just a call away.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. The teachers here have always been forthcoming and supportive; it was comforting knowing their door was open for any potential concerns.

“Ms. Bowen, can I show them my drawing from yesterday?” Caleb bounced over with a bright smile on his face.

Clara tossed her blocks to the side and ran over right behind him. “I wanna show them mine too!”

“Of course.” Ms. Bowen chuckled, sliding the folder to Stiles and Derek as Caleb and Clara went to their desks. “Alright, this is for you to take h—oh my!”

Stiles followed her gaze, eyes widening when he saw the picture Caleb held up. On it were several—well, Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to be but the drawings sure looked like dicks. A variety of them and in all different sizes. He snorted, immediately covering it with a cough because while he could be immature at times, he knew it probably wasn’t appropriate right now.

Probably.

“Well, that's—” Derek reached out, taking the picture from Caleb and placing it on the table. He cleared his throat and Stiles could tell he was a little flustered—an odd sight to see on the usually stoic alpha werewolf. Then again, it wasn’t every day their kid shoved a drawing of dicks in his face.

Stiles broke the awkward silence, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “So, uh, what are we looking at here, kiddo?”

“It’s me!” Caleb proclaimed proudly.

Derek let out a strangled noise. Stiles, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his laughter.

“You drew yourself, huh?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Caleb nodded proudly, his smile so wide it threatened to split his face. “Ms. Bowen said we could draw whatever we wanted. So I drawed myself!”

“Yourself?” Derek bit his lip as he apparently tried to reconcile that with the image on the page.

“Yeah! Look, that’s me when I was a baby. And then when I was one and two and three and four and five,” Caleb said, pointing at each of the strangely shaped figures. “Like I am now!”

Stiles looked at the drawing again and tried very hard not to laugh (again).

“Oh, I see it,” he said, managing to keep a semblance of a straight face. “Those are great drawings, kiddo.”

Clara was next, eagerly shoving her drawing towards them. It wasn’t any discernible shape or object. Instead, it was a burst of colorful scribbles and dots that filled the page to the brim.

“And I drew a rainbow!” she chirped, beaming at them. “Do you like it?”

“We love it,” Stiles assured, taking her picture and holding it next to Caleb’s. “Both of these will be going up on our fridge.”

The twins bounced in delight at the news, and Ms. Bowen wore an amused smile. The meeting soon ended, and they gave their goodbyes as Stiles gathered their drawings before walking out with Derek, Eli, and the twins.

On the way back to their car, Stiles couldn’t help but glance at Caleb’s comical depiction of himself, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Derek shook his head, letting out a good-natured sigh. “Honestly, only our kids could turn a parent-teacher conference into a comedy show.”

Stiles shot him a grin, wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist. “And that’s why we love them.”

As they reached the car, Stiles looked at the kids, their faces glowing with happiness and pride, and realized how perfectly ordinary this moment was—and how extraordinarily lucky he was to have this.

#sterek #sterek fanart #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eli stilinski hale #fanfic #queue life sourwolf

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