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“Do you think Lydia would-”
Stiles stopped talking. Jackson’s laughter was so loud and obnoxious, there was no point. So he waited for Jackson to shut up so he could actually finish his question.
It took three minutes for the jackass to finally calm down and wipe his face. “No.”
“I didn’t finish my question,” Stiles pouted angrily.
“And it’s best if you never do,” Jackson replied, grabbing a slice of fruit from the plate in front of him. “Trust me, Stilinski, if you broach the topic with her, she will eviscerate you.”
“You don’t-”
“Remember, I dated her. I know her thoughts on this subject.”
“You don’t know the subject,” Stiles pouted again.
“How long have we been doing these detective-lawyer get-togethers? How many conversations have I suffered through with you, Derek, and the both of you? I know what’s on your mind. Leave Lydia out of this.”
Stiles was about to argue some more, but his phone rang, the ringtone alerting him to a work call.
+++
Derek and his sister Cora were having their weekly lunch family time. Typically, Derek’s husband was around or the pack did things together, so these lunches were planned just the two of them to catch up, hang out, have alone time.
There was never really any agenda, just catching up on the week, talking about work, whatever supernatural happenings were afoot (though it was minimal in the death department, a decade after the nemeton), and Stiles. It’s what happened when the two were married and Cora was happily single, never wanting to jump into a relationship.
While tearing into her burger, Cora nodded along to the latest news of Derek and Stiles’s relationship. It was so domestic, gross. She had no input and Derek wasn’t really seeking advice, just sharing their latest marital thoughts and plans.
+++
While the Hale siblings were having their standing bonding time, Stiles took Lydia to lunch of their own. They had ordered, and the meal was already on the table. Stiles was still thinking of how to broach the topic with his red-haired goddess love. Screw you, Jackass.
He set his sandwich down and cleared his throat. “Hey, Lydia. Would you-”
“No,” she stated, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, barely giving him a glance.
“But you don’t know what I’m asking!” he whined.
Lydia Martin, certified Mathematics genius, just raised an eyebrow.
+++
Two weeks later, there was a loud pounding on the Stilinski-Hale’s front door. It was an early Tuesday evening. Stiles had investigative notes scattered on the coffee table in the living room, deep in hyperfocus land. Derek had only recently arrived from work.
Before Derek could get up from the couch, the door unlocked and his sister came barging in. (Nearly everyone in the pack had a key. The house in the preserve was the Official Pack House™.)
“Okay!” Cora shouted, carrying three large pizzas and a bottle of whiskey.
Stiles whipped his head up and around, confused, “Huh?”
“Okay, what?” Derek stood up and grabbed the bottle from atop the steaming hot pizzas.
“I’ll do it,” she nodded. She looked and sounded like she was trying to convince herself of something.
Stiles started shuffling papers into a pile so they could place the food on the table. Now that his focus had shifted, he realized he was starving. “Did you pre-game before coming here?” He tilted his head to point to the booze.
“What exactly are you doing?” Derek questioned. His little sister wasn’t making any sense.
“I’ll have a baby,” she stated.
“Woah woah woah!” Stiles shouted and stood up. “Ow!” he mumbled as his knee hit the table.
“What?” Derek’s eyes widened.
“Derek was telling me-”
“Ohhhhhh!” Stiles understood, eyes widening.
“So, if, Der, you really want a kid with that,” she pointed at her brother-in-law, “I’ll do it. I’ll have a baby for you. But no take-backs. I don’t want it. I’ll be Fun Auntie Cora. But I will not be a mother,” she said in a rush.
It was silent in the room. Both men were stunned. They just stared at Cora, not even glancing at each other.
Yes, they had been discussing expanding their family and having children, but this was unexpected. Sure, Stiles tried to ask Lydia to surrogate, but he wasn’t actually stupid. He knew the answer before bringing it up with Jackson and Lydia herself.
“Okay,” Derek finally spoke, voice quiet but decisive.
“Great,” Cora nodded, looking around. There was a clear spot on the table. She set the pizza boxes there and walked toward the kitchen for plates and tumblers for the whiskey.
“But I’m not fucking your husband,” she shouted.
“Hey!” Stiles yelled, offended.
+++
It wasn’t a simple process. After that night, Stiles went on a research binge, looking up local doctors, making phone calls, trying to figure out the best way to proceed with artificial insemination and surrogacy.
The day Cora took an at-home pregnancy test, she emerged from the bathroom and chucked the pee stick at Stiles’s head. (“Ew, gross,” Stiles complained as he bent over to pick up the test. It was positive. Derek immediately called the OBGYN.)
When it was officially confirmed, they invited the sheriff and Melissa over for lunch. Stiles’s father immediately burst into happy tears and pulled his son into a tight hug.
Stiles broke the news to Jackson over their usual shop-talk lunch between meetings. (“So, how does one go about adoption rights with a surrogate?”
Jackson choked on his burrito. “Who was stupid enough to agree to give you a kid?”
“Cora’s having my baby.”
“Who’s doing what?” Jackson put his food down.
“Cora offered her Hale egg and womb. She’s pregnant,” Stiles replied, continuing to eat his burrito.
“Are we talking about the same woman here?”
“As only children, I understand we’ll never get it. But this is something she wanted to do for her brother. Who am I to deny us the opportunity for a biological child? We’re working with a fertility OB. We've been talking with a counselor who specializes in adoption and surrogacy. It’s happening. Now, as my lawyer-”
“I’m not your lawyer.”
“I want to make sure we have paperwork ready when the baby is born. Cora is giving up her parental rights and Derek needs to be the baby’s other legal parent.”
Jackson pulled out his cell phone. “I guess I’ll call my dad.”)
+++
Cora called Stiles one morning, asking him to come over. He brought chocolate chips and bananas. She immediately took the bag of chocolate.
“Hey, wait! Those are for pancakes!” he shouted as he heard the bag rip open and followed her to the kitchen.
She was already seated when he entered, pouring chocolate chips into her mouth from the bag.
“So, pancakes,” Stiles brought up. “Yay or nay?”
“Don’t know why you brought ‘nanas,” she said with a mouthful of chocolate.
“Derek said that chocolate chip banana was your favorite.”
“Lies,” she blushed. It had been her favorite breakfast food. When she was10!
“Hey, if you don’t want-”
“Shut up, Stilinski, and make me breakfast.” Of course her preference hadn’t changed. But she wasn’t going to admit to liking bananas.
Stiles got to work, pulling out ingredients to make homemade pancakes. He wasn’t his dad - maybe it was just a dad specialty - but he didn’t burn them or undercook them, so it was a win.
It was silent as they shared a late morning meal. Cora was busy enjoying the combination of banana and chocolate. And at four months pregnant, so was their little jellybean.
After Cora finished five pancakes with jam, she finally spoke, bringing up the topic that brought her brother-in-law over: “So, that offer of moving in?”
“Yeah!” Stiles exclaimed after coughing on the food he’d yet to swallow. “We’ve got the room, and it’d be nice to have you close.”
“I’m only agreeing because it’s easier to boss you around,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Uh huh. Didn’t realize you needed the excuse,” he laughed and stuffed half a pancake into his mouth.
+++
Life was settling rather nicely for Stiles and Derek. They were expecting a child. Cora moved into their house, in a room on the ground floor. She tried to be as independent as she could be while also going through hormone changes and food cravings and letting Stiles work at home while also bossing him around.
+++
It took until the seventh-month mark before Stiles brought up an important topic.
“I think we should name the baby after Laura or your mom.”
“What?” Derek asked, shocked and warm.
“I just feel like...I don’t know. I feel like naming the baby after them would be a good choice. Strong. Named for a Hale alpha. We don’t know if they’ll be a werewolf yet, but there’s a strong probability.”
“Your mom was a strong woman, too, Stiles.”
Stiles smiled wistfully.
+++
“How about Luke? Or Leia?” Stiles suggested one random night in bed.
Derek was doing a crossword puzzle, ignoring his husband.
“Oh!” Stiles said excitedly. “Lando!”
Derek sighed, not looking away from the newspaper. “No Star Wars, Stiles.”
Stiles pouted and crossed his arms with a “hmp” noise.
A minute later, he snapped his fingers in excitement. “Leah!”
This time, Derek lowered the paper and glared. “I said-”
“It’s not!” Stiles shouted.
The baby name conversation stalled as the disagreement turned into a tickle fight.
+++
It was always Stiles who brought up names. This time, it was over breakfast. Derek, once again, was actually doing something when Stiles’s brain decided to bring up the topic randomly. And without setup.
“How about Thomas?” Stiles asked as he bit into a piece of bacon.
Derek was reading over a contract; he had a meeting with a client in a few hours.
“Theodore? Teddy?”
Derek raised an eyebrow.
“No, you’re right. Teddy bear for a werewolf baby is awkward.” He sipped his coffee. “Trent?”
Both of them cringed at the same time.
“Ew, no. Forget I said that. That’s too much like Jackson. We don’t need that personality.”
+++
“How about something simple like Natalia?” Stiles suggested when the three of them were watching a soccer match.
Cora was really into sports. That, or she was just really into aggressive behavior. She liked it when players collided. She had said baseball was boring. Both Stiles and the sheriff were utterly offended. That girl had no taste.
Cora never engaged in baby name discussions since she didn’t have a preference and it wasn’t her baby.
This time, though, Derek actually had opinions. He slid his hand into Stiles’s open palm. “I’d like to stay away from exact names, please. Or any version of it. It’s too similar and would bring up too many memories. I like the idea of naming the baby after family, but it should be a little more removed.”
“Mama’s boy,” Cora mumbled, but loud enough for the married couple to hear.
Stiles smiled and leaned into his husband, squeezing Derek’s hand.
+++
Three days after the official due date, Cora walked into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. “My water broke,” she said casually.
Silverware clattered on the table and two chairs moved. Derek and Stiles were up and in a panic, talking over each other on who should do what - get what, call whom.
Cora zoned them out and grabbed the fruit salad and a can of whipped cream. She sat down at the table and sprayed the cream over the fruit until the can sputtered.
“What are you doing?!” Stiles panicked.
Cora grabbed a spoon on the table and dug into the bowl. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re having a baby!”
“Yeah, and who knows when I’ll be able to eat. I’m hungry. The contractions aren’t that close. Do what you need to do and let me eat in peace for the next five minutes.”
+++
Cora was holding the little boy in her arms. She was an emotion mess. Sweat, tears, pain. But she smiled at her … pack. This was pack. He was pack. Family.
“Evan.”
He squirmed.
“What?” Derek choked out.
“You guys didn’t settle on a name yet?”
“Uh, no. We don’t have a final name yet,” Stiles answered, looking at his sister-in-law holding their child.
“I think you should go with Evan.”
“We were gonna try to name him after Laura or your mom,” Stiles said.
“That’s my dad’s name,” Derek whispered.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, as much as a mama’s boy Derek was, he was definitely an overall parent’s favorite,” Cora smirked, looking up at her older brother.
Derek blushed.
“Oh, yeah?” Stiles nudged his husband’s shoulder, smiling.
“Yeah,” Cora replied. “Quiet, listening, caring - that was dad. Mom and Laura were definitely the alpha personalities. Dad grounded them. That’s Derek.”
“That sounds about right.” Stiles looked at Cora and the baby.
Cora shifted and held the baby over to Stiles, who carefully, slowly, took the little boy.
“Hmmm...Evan,” he smiled, placing a kiss on his son’s forehead. “Hi, buddy. How does Evan sound?”
The baby squirmed as if responding to the voice, the name.
“What do you say, Der? I know you said you didn’t want to name him directly after...” he trailed off when he looked over at his husband.
Derek was silently crying, watching his husband with their newborn son. He nodded. “Evan Jonathan Stilinski-Hale.”
+++
It took Stiles more than a month before he really got out of the house with his newborn son. Derek worked and Stiles was a consulting profiler so he stayed at home, working some cold cases between naps (his and Evan’s).
Packmates would stop by. The sheriff and Melissa frequently spent dinners or breakfasts (depending on their shifts) at the house in the preserve, taking turns with their grandson before and/or after their shifts. The boys (all four) were grateful.
But at some point, ADHD brain beat out anxiety brain and Stiles was going stir crazy being alone in the house with an infant. He couldn’t even chat with neighbors because their house was IN THE MIDDLE OF A FREAKING PRESERVE! There were no neighbors aside from the animals in the forest.
Stiles packed the baby bag and put it in the car. He turned on the coffee machine to let a pot brew. Then he fussed with the stroller to get it to fit in the car. By that time, coffee was done so he grabbed a thermos and filled it to the brim with steaming hot black coffee. No room with milk or sugar. Deluded coffee was for the weak. I am not weak! he muttered to himself.
Twisting the cap, he walked back to the car for the third time and got into the driver’s seat. He placed the thermos into a cup holder and looked into the rear view mirror.
“Shit,” he sighed. “No one can ever know about this,” he told the mirror.
Stiles grabbed his coffee and took a large gulp, burning his tongue. It didn’t phase him. He set it back down and got out of the car.
This time, he returned to the house and ran up the stairs. Well, he tripped over himself up the stairs. Again, no one needed to know.
Fifteen minutes later, Stiles was back in the car, exhausted. He grabbed his thermos and took another gulp. “Ow, fuck,” he swore. It was still scorching because it was in a, you know, thermos, which was supposed to keep it hot. Stiles sighed.
He looked in his mirror again and this time, the baby was in his car seat, nodding off. Stiles padded his pockets, feeling his wallet and pulling out his phone. He plugged it into the charger. Glancing into the mirror again, he started the car and backed out of the garage.
+++
Stiles strolled (literally, with a stroller) into the Beacon County Courthouse. While it was a smallish county, there were still plenty of people walking around. People stopped to look at the baby. It didn’t help that most people in the building knew him because his father was sheriff. And getting a glimpse of the sheriff’s grandson was apparently a must. His father was sure to get plenty of congratulations and complements in the next few days.
He made short chit chat but tried to push forward, making his way to the ADA offices. Stiles made it almost five minutes with an elderly judge before the woman noticed the time and said her goodbyes, making her way to her next docket. Two cops, from different Beacon County Sheriff’s Office locations, stopped him, wanting advice from a profiler’s perspective. Stiles told them to touch base with his father for an email address.
Stiles’s face hurt after all the fake smiles he wore. He was ready to punch someone.
Luckily, at this point, he was standing in front of the closed door of Assistant District Attorney Jackson Whittemore’s office. He leaned his ear close to see if he could hear voices. Obviously he didn’t want to interrupt a meeting. You know, because of confidentiality and all that.
“Just come in, Stilinski,” Jackson shouted.
Stiles made a face and huffed at the closed door before opening it and walking in.
Jackson was sitting in his chair, reading over some legal briefs and witness testimony notes.
Stiles closed the door and parked the stroller before walking over to the smarmy lawyer and punched him in the upper arm. Stiles did his best not to flinch at the impact. Just because Jackass didn’t look buff like Derek didn’t mean he wasn’t all lean muscle.
“What the fuck, Stilinski. You can’t assault an ADA in his own office.”
“You’re not a cop, there isn’t a law against it.”
“Assault is a crime.”
“Cry me a river, asswipe. You didn’t even feel it.” Stiles walked to the couch and collapsed, starfishing on it. “And if I hadn’t punched you, some poor, unsuspecting lawyer, cop, victim, or witness was going to get it.”
“You could have punched a criminal.”
Stiles frowned. “Nah, it would have caused problems. Those fucks would cry to their defense attorney who would complain to the judge that the sheriff’s kid assaulted them. No one needs that.”
“I’ll complain that the sheriff’s punkass kid assaulted me. You do remember I had a restraining order against you, right?”
Stiles waved it off. “That was literally ages ago. No one buys it.” He sat up. “Hey, do you have some time? Wanna go walk with me and Evan? I really needed to get out of the house, though, I kinda regret it already. But since I’m here, I need fresh air.”
“You live in the forest.”
“I need fresh air with people around and a sidewalk. And coffee. And some company. And maybe a Tylenol. I have a headache. Or I need food. And coffee. Buy me good coffee, Jackass. I have a headache.”
Jackson hit the lock-screen command on his computer before opening a cabinet and putting the files he was reading in a folder under the correct label. He shut it, pulled out his keys, and locked the drawer. “You definitely need meds,” he muttered.
“I am not taking Adderall to take care of my kid.”
“Come on, dickface,” Jackson rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I’ll even walk the stroller while you talk at me.”
“Ah, Jackson, you really do love me. I knew it! I’m telling Lydia!”
+++
They made it out of the building with less fanfare. Mostly because Jackson glared at anyone who looked in their direction. Stiles had no problem with this tactic.
Their first stop was a cart on the corner. As promised, Jackson bought Stiles a black coffee and a turkey sandwich. As Stiles took the food, Jackson took hold of the stroller and led them away from the courthouse. Also as promised, Jackson let Stiles rant at him about the latest case he was consulting on.
In the middle of his verbal diatribe, Stiles laughed and pointed. “Oh, look, Evan! There’s Uncle Jackson’s cousin!”
Jackson turned to look at where Stiles was pointing and growled. There was a lizard on the sidewalk. Jackson scowled and punched Stiles in the upper arm.
Stiles tripped and nearly dropped his coffee cup from the force of the momentum. Before he could fall over, though, Jackson grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him upright.
“Ow, you fuck,” Stiles slapped Jackson’s stomach. “That hurt.”
“That was your own fault.”
+++
It was rare that Stiles and Derek left their son with someone other than his grandparents for more than an hour or two.
Today, Jackson had the boy for most of the day while the parents went shopping and completed other necessary tasks. And slept. They need their own naps.
It was going well. Evan was already crawling and giggling. He had eaten and it was almost naptime when the scent hit Jackson’s nose.
“Kid,” he groaned. “I don’t know how you manage to make that smell, but save it for your dads.” He picked up the boy and brought him over to the couch where the diaper bag was.
Thankfully changing a diaper wasn’t difficult, but before Jackson repositioned Evan’s outfit, he remembered what he had in his closet.
Jackson removed the current outfit, took Evan to his room and plopped him on the king-size bed, and went for the onesie he’d recently purchased.
+++
The two of them played a bit in bed, with Jackson taking photos and sending some to Lydia.
Naptime came and went. Another meal was eaten, and they were both back in the living room with Evan showing Jackson his cool toys when Stiles and Derek walked in. (Stiles of course had a key. He had a key to everyone in the pack’s place.)
Evan squealed at the sight of his parents and crawled over to Stiles, stretching his arms up.
Stiles smiled, heart melting, and picked his son up. “Hey, buddy. How was your playdate with Uncle Jackson?”
As Evan nuzzled against Stiles’s chest, Stiles got a good look at the new outfit his son was wearing.
“Wait. What?” Stiles mumbled and shifted his son to get a better look. “Is this…” he trailed off.
Derek turned his full attention on them and raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Jackson.
When Stiles finally took his eyes away from the fox-covered gray onesie, he was met with a smirking Jackson.
“You sure you want to keep playing spot-the-kanima?”
+++
It was almost five by the time they arrived home.
The boys were cranky. Hungry. Clingy.
Evan usually did well with the pack, but after nearly a full day away from his dads, he wanted and was ready for their sole attention. Add in the werewolf factor, and he became a koala.
Stiles, on the other hand, was in full bear-near-a-campsite mode. He stalked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pantry, hunting to find something edible.
Derek slowly made his way into the house with his son in one arm and the baby bag in his other hand. He set the bag down and walked into the kitchen, watching his husband as Stiles mumbled about no food. Which was a lie. They’d been grocery shopping earlier that day. (And had stopped home to unload before picking Evan up.)
Evan started to wiggle in Derek’s arms, getting fussy, feeding off of his other father’s irritation.
Derek walked over to Stiles, wrapping his free arm around Stiles’s waist and pulled him back and away from the refrigerator. Stiles moved willingly, leaning against his husband’s chest. Derek listened as he heard Stiles’s heartbeat come back to a normal rate. He then slid his hand away and handed off the baby.
Stiles blinked. Evan looked around at the change in perception and realized he’d been moved to his other dad’s arms. Smiling, the baby made a happy sound.
When Stiles looked away from his son, he spotted his husband pulling out food to prepare dinner for the three of them. Stiles, too, smiled and took a seat at the table, playing with Evan to distract them both while Derek cooked.
+++
Dinner prep and eating were over in no time, but it was still too early for bed. The little family moved to the living room where they had plenty of space to roam and play.
A full baby was a happy baby, and Evan started crawling around the area the moment he was set on the floor.
Derek and Stiles took their own positions on the ground and started a play war, seeing who their son crawled over to first.
(The winner was always Stiles.)
+++
Half an hour later found the Stilinski-Hale living room filled with the sounds of The Magic School Bus. It might have been too above level for the baby, but Stiles’s ADHD tends to kick up a fuss with some of the more age-appropriate shows. (Which explained so much.)
Evan tended to get enraptured by the colors and sounds either way. And his eyes seem to always follow the lizard.
(Stiles had mentioned that Liz was Evan’s favorite to Jackson, in hopes of another lizard joke twist. Jackson just smirked and took it as a compliment, stating that he was clearly Evan’s favorite person. At which point, Evan had bumped into Jackson’s leg, arms stretched up. Jackson had lifted the boy up and planted a kiss on his cheek before flashing his blue eyes at Stiles and walked away with the baby.)
+++
After another episode ended, Derek looked away from the TV and down. Stiles had crawled into Derek’s arms 10 minutes ago with their son. And in those last few minutes, both had fallen asleep.
Stiles, as usual, was twisted in what one would assume was an uncomfortable position, but as always, it was just Stiles. His hand was nestled in the crook of Derek’s neck and shoulder. His left hand was wrapped around their son, keeping him from falling off the couch. But the right arm was crossed over his chest between the three of them.
Evan was noisily sucking on his pacifier in between bouts of quiet. The sucking happened anytime it seemed like the pacifier was about to fall out.
It was adorable.
They were adorable.
It wasn’t the best position to be in. Derek was now stuck on the couch with the remote somewhere on the floor and another episode of the children’s show playing. And he couldn’t move. Moving meant disturbing the moment, waking up Stiles, potentially waking up the baby. No, moving wasn’t an option.
And Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.
-30-