Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DEREK POV  

Derek isn't so sure as to why he is here;  here  being the study chambers of his mother’s. 

The chamber is a small nook hidden in the Hale Castle, buried between the family quarters. Made completely of stones, it gets the coldest during winter, and it would constituent as a miracle to find his mother sitting at the desk in the corner, papers spilled in front of her gaze at the current time of the year. Talia Hale has always favored the warmth of the Sun; likes call to likes, he supposes. 

So, he is confused as to why his mother is here, and as to why  he  is here. 

"Mother?" He prompts, and she lifts her gaze from the myriad of papers on her desk, her face morphing from a concentrated frown to a bright smile. 

"Derek," she says, and motions for him to sit on the wooden chair opposite her. He does. "You must be wondering why I called you here." 

He nods, his bewilderment only growing as his mother's smile increases tenfold, as if the secret she wants to unearth to present to him is something fond, something dear to her heart. 

The last time she'd been like this was almost a year ago, when she had one day randomly called Laura to her study chambers and... 

"How do you keep finding these people?" He asks, genuinely debating internally whether his mother is some kind of Witch who keeps tabs on single people or not. The points he makes internally all point to  yes .  

"That's a secret," she winks, and he sighs, wary of what his future holds. "Now, sweetheart, I have found the best mate possible for you," 

"That's what you said for Matt, and look at how that turned out," he points out, and they both shudder at that memory: Matt had definitely been one of a kind, and Laura would remember him till her last breath. They all will, honestly. 

But his mother is as stubborn as she is competent at finding matches for each of her loved ones. "Camden is a fine match, isn't he? Laura is enamored by him." 

He is pretty sure she is expecting already; being an Alpha lends him some leverage in finding out information simply through scents, though he would like to erase the memory of smelling his sister the next day after her and Camden’s wedding night, please and thank you. 

But also... Laura has never seemed happier than she does now. The last time she’d been this happy was when she presented as a Beta, rejoiced in the knowledge of not learning the advanced politics that is their family’s heritage; not that he can blame her. As the oldest Alpha child of the Queen and King of Triskelle,  he  has had to learn them instead, and while he appreciates the need of that knowledge, he’d rather be left alone in his personal chambers with various books.  

Marriage is simply another one of his duties to his Kingdom.  

"Okay," he concedes, and his mother whoops in excitement before pushing forward a piece of paper towards him. It's a letter. 

He wonders if their subjects see his mother as anything less than composed all the time, and he thinks, no they don't. This is one of the few things that are simply  theirs , the less than perfect side of his mother, his family; he likes it that way.  

It’s one of the few things he genuinely likes about the life he leads; the things, the moments that are simply theirs.  

He raises his eyebrows at her as he reads the address written on top of the letter. "Beacon. Isn't that the territory closer to the seas?" 

"Yes. We don't have any hold on any major sea areas, except for the ones Kate Argent allows us to have, that is," 

"And that's just the polite way of saying we have exactly zero hold on them," he finishes for her. Queen Kate of Argyros is certainly a force to be reckoned with, but one Triskelle chooses wisely not to engage with. Or, as minimally as possible, given that the two kingdoms are merged through a marriage alliance through Uncle Peter and Uncle Chris. 

Just like Beacon and Triskelle will be, with his marriage to— 

He reads the letters that spell the name of his potential mate more than five times. He still doesn't get it. 

"King Stilinski says to call him 'Stiles'," his mother says. 

"What the hell is a Stiles?" 

His mother smiles like a Cheshire cat, all gentle seeming and sweet. “The man who will make an honest man out of you, of course.” 

He huffs out a laugh.  

“You two will make a good pair,” she adds, smile more sincere, and he dips his head in consideration.  

His mother has rarely been wrong before.  

***

STILES POV  

Stiles is chatting with Scott—gossiping, really—when his father sweeps into his room with a grace that Stiles has never managed to achieve in all of his nineteen years of life.  

“M’lord,” Scott scrambles down from Stiles’ bed and bows down, and he rolls his eyes. Even his father looks exasperated.  

“Scott, I’ve told you to not bow down in front of me exactly how many times?” 

Stiles mouths the words along with Scott as he replies, “Less times than my mother has told me to keep bowing down in front of you,” 

“I’ll talk to her,” his father offers, like he always does, and then follows up with eleven words that has Stiles dreading for the conversation he’s going to have right now. “Scott, I would like to have a private conversation with Stiles.”  

Scott composes himself and leaves right away, but Stiles finds it harder to hide his surprise and trepidation. “I didn’t know about Lydia and Jackson doing it in the throne room, I swear,” he confesses before his father can lob accusations at him. But his only reaction is a look that says  I didn’t need to know that, Stiles .  

Stiles gets that look a lot.  

Sighing, apparently deciding to get right into it, his father hands him an envelope that Stiles had somehow failed to see in his hand. He takes it with a wary glance.  

It’s a letter from Triskelle. Which is unusual in and of itself since their two kingdoms have minimal dealings with each other, but what gets Stiles’ attention is the sentence that begins the letter—and as he registers the words in his mind, begins the next chapter of his life:  

Derek Sebastian Hale, Alpha, Twenty-Five, Prince and Heir of Triskelle has agreed to be betrothed to Mieczysław Stilinski, Omega, Nineteen, Prince and Heir of Beacon.  

He isn’t sure what expression has filtered out from his heart to his face, but whatever it is, it prompts his father into claiming, “You and Derek are a good match.” 

His father has rarely been wrong before.  

He dips his head in agreement. 

Chapter Text

Celebrations are in full force at the Hale Castle, and Derek has to admit, it feels good. Great, even, to have their subjects come up to them throughout the day and give their congratulations to Laura and Camden for the child that is growing in their favorite Princess’ belly, or to congratulate  him  for his upcoming marriage.   

Derek grips the railing of the balcony a little bit tighter at the thought; he is to be married in a few short weeks. He still hasn’t adjusted to that idea. It’s been months, he’s celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday even, and yet the knowledge that he is to be married baffles him—Stiles, as his betrothed had intoned to be called as in their very first exchange of letters, roughly three months ago, is someone who matches Derek wit by wit, words by words, intelligence by intelligence and humor by humor. Stiles is, in a word, perfect; but that is the Stiles he knows only through numerous letters exchanged, and not as he is in person.   

In person Derek hardly ever says anything, unless he is prompted, and in letters he had written paras upon paras.   

It would be a drastic change, to find a ‘wordsmith’—as Stiles has taken to calling him—to be so sullen, silent.   

The bustling of the castle halts as the yellow drapes fall down the gates, visible under the darkening sky, and Derek prepares himself.   

The Stilinski’s are here.   

Stiles  is here. 

*** 

Decked out in a gorgeous, deep red tunic, with flashes of black from top to toe, Stiles leaves Derek feeling underdressed. He is gorgeous, more so than Derek had imagined, more than even his uncle Peter’s words had painted him to be, for he is the only to have travelled through Beacon, once or twice—pale skin that shines under the emerging rays of the moon, moles like stars littering the visible skin, eyes bright enough to rival the light bugs that Derek and his siblings and cousins used to chase around the castle grounds as children.   

Stiles is, in a word, gorgeous. And he leaves Derek speechless.   

Laura hits him in the stomach with her elbow; propriety be damned.   

“I’m sorry, King John, Prince Mieczysław, for my baby brother. He just isn’t the best with words.”  

If Derek had thought his mother or father would defend him, he is wrong. No. Instead, each and every one of them—his parents, Peter, Chris, Cora, Jackson, Allison, Malia and Camden—are laughing at him.   

Derek knows his cheeks must be red, and his ears even redder, but still, he chances a glance at King John, who looks nothing like Stiles. The King’s lips are pressed into an amused smile. Derek turns to look at Stiles, and finds that Stiles had been doing the same; cheeks flushed, Stiles looks impossibly devouring worthy.   

“And my son has the... well, I’d say the best, but an interesting and never-ending relationship fits better. But I guess it finally ended,”  

Stiles whines, “Shut up,” skin turning a darker pink, and yeah, Derek is totally smitten.  Everything  about Stiles is appealing to Derek.   

“Speechless at the first meeting? What a pair,” Peter calls from where he is standing beside Chris, and Derek turns to glower at him, though he’s sure it doesn’t hold much of a threat when he’s looking like a tomato.   

“Shut up, Uncle Peter,” he says, and that prompts everyone but Stiles and him to laugh.   

Derek hates them all.   

Derek looks at Stiles. Stiles is already looking at him, honey brown eyes bright with repressed laughter. His own mouth twitches.   

They burst out laughing.

Chapter Text

Triskelle is vastly different from Beacon, but in a good way. As averse as he is to change, Stiles finds he actually likes it here—so far everyone he’s met has treated him nicely, and not just because he is to be inducted into the Hale Family. They have proven to be genuinely charming, even to Scott, Lydia and Jackson. Stiles considers them friends, and it is nice to see his new to-be family does too. In fact, they treat their servants as their friends too; or well, as fellow humans, instead of looking down at them.   

Queen Kate Argent sure did an impression on him, huh.   

“Stiles, you look absolutely divine,” he jumps at the sudden voice from behind him, the stack of books he’d managed to find in the previous ten-minutes and put together on the small table next to the window falling down with the action. He winces, and settles about picking them back up again.  

“Laura! Hello. Um. What are you doing here?” He asks, carefully not looking at her face. He knows she is amused. She likely knows what he is doing here.   

“Neither of you are subtle,” she tells him, and he puts the last book back on the table before looking at her sheepishly.    

“I have no idea as to what you are talking about,” he tries. She shakes her head, one hand petting her showing stomach, and the other she points accusingly at him.   

“You, Stilinski, are going to spend the day with me,” she tells him, and he gapes. She raises her eyebrow. “Any problem?” He opens and closes his mouth like a fish. “Perhaps, you were waiting for someone  here, in this nook of the library, dressed like that? Perhaps, I don’t know, for a picnic?”  

“I don’t even—Derek was right, you  are  terrifying,” he blurts out. She gives him a wicked smile, and yeah, the Hale women are something else.  

Laura loops her arms with his. “Oh, do tell me what else Derek has said about me.”  

“All good things,” he lies, and shares a look with one of the knights stationed around the hallway leading them both outside to the Gardens. The knight, Alex he thinks, winces in sympathy for him. “Good things only. Derek never said a bad thing about you, nope, he is a good brother.”  

“What about him telling you I’m scary? I’m not, am I?” Stiles wants to deny her being anything but a sweet angel, but the mischief in her eyes makes him narrow his eyes at her.   

“You’re messing with me,” he concludes, but Laura doesn’t change her faux-sad expression. Eyes are the portal to one’s soul, after all. “You know you are one terrifyingly competent woman.”   

Laura breaks into a wide grin. “Indeed I am,” and then she’s leading them both towards the gate to the Garden, where Stiles can see Derek, dressed in a white tunic that leaves very little to the imagination, at least on his upper body. “So, I lied, you and I aren’t spending the day together. Well, we are, but Derek and Camden will be joining us.”  

Stiles startles and turns to gape at her, which he seems to be doing a lot around her if he thinks about it, and she raises an eyebrow at him. He turns back to look at Derek, and indeed, Camden is standing beside him, both of them looking in his and Laura’s direction. Stiles would like to say Derek looks half as fond as Camden looks at seeing Laura, but honestly, Derek’s face looks murderous.   

“You didn’t see him, did you? Someone only has eyes for Derekkkk,” Laura sing-songs, and Stiles is glad they are far enough away that Derek can’t hear them. Or, maybe he can; Derek’s ears turn an endearing pink, and Laura snorts beside him. Damn Alpha hearing. “Come on,” she commands, and tugs him forward.   

***

The four of them sit on a red cloth, the afternoon sun shining on them through the spaces between the leaves of the trees, providing just the right amount of heat under the shade. They are sitting on the four corners, with Derek across him and Laura on his right, Camden on his left. At the center sits a basket filled with delicious food, ones that seem to have been the ones Stiles had requested the Cook to make for his and Derek’s picnic—it has Derek’s favorite foods and sweets, which Derek keeps nibbling on each time Stiles opens his mouth to ask something. So far, the only real words he’s heard from Derek have been an annoyed, “Laura!” and a hissed, “Not you too,” to Camden.   

Camden, who punches Derek on his bicep just so that the pastry in the Alpha’s hands falls down. Derek glares at Camden. Camden beams and turns to Stiles, and he prepares himself for the worst as he sees Laura stretch and put her chin on her hands, as if she’s preparing for some juicy gossip.   

“So,” Camden begins, and bats at Derek’s hand even without turning around, a warning to keep his hands away from the basket.   

“So,” Stiles echoes.   

“We’ve been here for thirty-minutes and now you know all about Laura’s eating habits,”  

“It’s hard work carrying a child,” Laura says.   

“Yes,” Camden agrees, and smiles at Laura with so much love that it is almost blinding. He looks back at Stiles. “And now you also know to keep sugary things away from Mr. Sweets here,”  

Derek glares harder at his brother-in-law and crosses his arms. Stiles refuses to find it adorable.   

“But you two haven’t  talked  to each other.”  

Derek groans like he’s dying, and honestly, Stiles would like to do the same. And also hit someone on the head. Preferably Derek.   

“He keeps eating!” is what bursts out of him. Derek looks at him then, and doesn’t look away, like he did in the past many minutes; whenever their eyes would meet, Derek would quickly look away. But not this time.  

“You sound angry,” Derek says carefully, and Stiles simply stares at him.   

“Yes,” he replies slowly. “No shit.” His dad would be  so  disappointed at hearing him swear, but he deserves to let out his frustrations. “You know, when I received your first letter, I was cautious. I didn’t know who you were, if you’d like me past what a marriage with the sole heir pf Beacon might be worth, but then when you replied to  my  letter...” Derek had matched him word by word, wit by wit, humor by humor. Barely a few thousand words had been passed between them, and Stiles had begun to fall in love. “But now you won’t even be in the same place as me. There’s always someone coming between us, you won’t talk to me, and it’s like- like- do you even  like  me?”  

Derek’s eyes widen and he rushes forward on his knees, and Stiles wonders when he stood on his own knees. He just had, his body rising with his voice.   

“No,” Derek says, voice rough, like he’s not used to using it much. Which seems to be true in all the time he has been here. “That’s not- I didn’t- I do like you, Stiles,”  

“Yeah? Well, you don’t act like it. Look at where we are right now! I arranged a picnic for us to  finally  talk to you and you had your family plan this instead!” He gestures at the Garden, the cloth, around them. Derek captures his hands in his slightly bigger ones, and Stiles wants to take them back. But something in Derek’s eyes, the way he desperately holds on, stops him. Or maybe it’s the little bit of frosting clinging to Derek’s stubble, that makes Stiles wants to coo at him and wipe it away, that makes him hold on. He wonders what Derek will do now.  

Derek does nothing. He waits for Derek to say something, anything. Derek doesn’t. He starts tugging on his hands, and Derek lets go.   

Stiles won’t cry, not here. He stands up.   

Camden’s voice pipes up then, and Stiles turns to the direction of his voice; Camden is sitting behind Laura, his hands around her mouth, her hands securing the hold, as if she’s unsure of refraining herself from saying some words. Like defending her brother.   

Camden is talking to Derek. “We talked about this, remember? You’re the same person who wrote those letters. You didn’t become someone else then. You can do this,”  

Stiles glances back down at Derek, expectant. Derek takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, looking up and taking Stiles’ hands again. Stiles lets him.   

“I don’t know how to act around you,” the Alpha confesses, “I want to talk to you the way I did in writing but I just- can't.”  

“Why?” Stiles asks softly. “I’m the same person. I even know your worst secret.” It being that it was  Derek  who broke the expensive vase of his father’s, and not Jackson while he and Malia were fighting.   

“Whafisit?” Laura’s muffled voice comes through, and Derek sighs, a hesitant scowl replacing the worried, panicked expression he had before.   

“I thought you promised you’d take that secret to the grave,”  

“And I’d thought you’d be less scowly and more gorgeously-scowly,” Stiles replies, and pauses. Derek looks confused. “I don’t know what it means,”  

“So, just the usual for you then,” Derek says promptly, and then silences himself, looking afraid, as if he thinks he’s said something wrong. Stiles looks at him with wonder.   

“ Man,”  Stiles says.  

“Don’t call me  man ,” Derek says with the deepest scowl Stiles has seen.  

“You were just the old Derek!”  

“I’ve always been the same Derek, you’re just too pretty,”   

Stiles gapes for a solid minute. Derek turns redder as each second passes.  

“Are you saying you’re so flustered by my beauty that you can’t function?”  

“No.” The scowl deepens even further, somehow. Turns into a frown. Aventurine eyes meet his. “If I say yes, would you forgive my previous transgressions? I honestly didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t like you. I just- I thought I couldn’t live up to our camaraderie in the letters, and I didn’t want to risk losing you.”  

“Wow, that’s the most I’ve heard out of you at a single moment,” Camden whispers, and Stiles, and it seems Derek as well, abruptly remember about the fact that they’re not alone.  

“Shut up Camden, they were having a  moment !”   

“Oh my god,” Derek groans.  

“I think you should get up. Otherwise, your knees will protest when you make up to Stiles later,” Laura adds, and Derek groans again. But he  does  stand up.   

Stiles isn’t sure what to feel. Annoyed at the interruption, or to be excited at what’s to come. So, he states what he knows as a fact: “If you hadn’t told them about our plans this wouldn’t have happened, Derek.”  

Derek shakes his head. “I didn’t,”   

Before Stiles can voice his confusion, Camden sheepishly admits, “I asked Martha why she was preparing so much food.” Of course. Stiles should have asked her to be more discreet. Maybe next time...  

“Why did you guys do this though?” He gestures with his free hand, because the other is still in Derek’s firm but gentle grip, and Stiles isn’t going to do anything to change that.   

Laura rubs her belly as she bluntly states, “Because we didn’t want you guys doing anything untoward. And who knows what you guys would have done while alone?”   

“Kill me please,” Derek mutters under his breath, but only Stiles hears him. Stiles feels the same.   

“But you just said-” Stiles starts, but Laura interrupts him.   

“Yeah, but that’s  after  you two talked through my baby brother’s issue,”  

“I am literally only two years younger than you,”   

“Still baby. See? You needed my help-”  

Camden coughs. Loudly.   

“ Our  help to make amends.”   

Derek starts arguing with his sister that  no, I didn’t .   

Stiles ignores them and walks forward to grab the basket, still laden with most foods, ensuring all the while that his other hand remains intertwined with Derek’s. “We’re taking this and going, thank you for your help, but bye.” And then he turns around and towards his freedom. Derek follows behind him, muttering curses under his breath.   

“Hey! I wanted to eat those rolls,” Laura yells behind them.   

“Too bad!” Derek yells back.   

Siblings. Stiles is glad he doesn’t have one.   

When they’re at the gate of the Garden, Stiles looks at Derek and promises, “When I’m done with you, you’ll be really good friends with words.”   

Derek raises his eyebrows and leans closer, his breath fanning over Stiles’ neck before rising upwards to the shell of his right ear, “When  I’m  done with  you , you’ll forget what words are,”   

Stiles likes  this  Derek. A lot. “I think they were right to intervene, you’re, um.” He gulps. “Very persuasive. That sounds like a great idea.” Derek smirks, and that shouldn’t be as gorgeous a sight as it is. Stiles leans in closer, mesmerized, their breaths mingling together in the small space between them.   

“Camden, they’re kissing!” Laura yells from somewhere behind them, and Derek leans backwards, and they both groan.   

They don’t kiss.  

“Aw, they’re already so in sync, they’re so good together,” Laura coos, still hidden from sight. Camden laughs, also hidden.   

Derek makes sure the basket is secured before he sends it sailing through the air and right onto the foot of a bush. Stiles is confused until he sees Laura and Camden pop out from inside them. How they fit there, it remains a mystery still.  

“Leave us alone!” Derek shouts and tugs Stiles back to the library.   

Nobody uses that library for the rest of the week, and the others thank Jackson for informing them to  not  use it.   

On a  completely  unrelated note, Derek’s knees hurt for the next few days and he can’t ride his horse, Camaro, for the week. Others make jabs at Derek, but Jackson, especially, makes sure to tease his cousin relentlessly about that.

Chapter Text

The courtyard is filled to the brim with the citizens of Triskelle, all of them brimming with excitement to see their King and Queen’s first grandchild. Stiles can see hundreds of people from the window, and even more trail behind the gates, all of them waiting just to see the three-year-old Amelia Lahey-Hale. 

He can’t wait to see what his people’s reaction would be when they learn that the next King’s mate is already with child.  

“Hey,” the familiar voice from behind him brings him back from his daydreams, and Stiles turns just in time to see Derek putting Amelia on the ground from his shoulders. Derek kisses her forehead. “You remember what to say, right?”  

“Yes!” Amelia bounces eagerly, her dress flowing airily around her. She looks like the sweetest thing in existence; Stiles wishes he could just keep her hidden behind the walls of their home, with him and Derek and Laura and Camden and the rest of the family. But theirs is no ordinary home—they live in a Castle. They have a duty to their people, even little Amelia.  

The hardships begin now. Though he hopes he would be able to assuage most of them for her.  

“Okay. Good. Now go, your mother and father are waiting,” When Stiles tunes back in, Derek is already done with the last-minute checking of their plan, and is instead turning her towards the direction of the balcony gently, both of them keeping their eyes on her until Laura sweeps Amelia off her feet and onto her hip. As the tradition conveys, both the beta females are wearing a blend of white and pink, the dresses shining under the light falling through the windows, while Camden, who comes in from the other direction, is wearing white and blue clothes as a male beta. They head out into the balcony together, and the crowd below cheers.  

Stiles grins at his mate, and Derek comes over to stand by his side, both of them watching the reactions of the crowd through the same window Stiles had been using to see the crowd from. Derek’s hands instantly move to wrap around Stiles’ waist, the familiar weight sending a thrill through the Omega’s body. Being close to his mate always feels good, but now the joy of it seems to be amplified.  

“They love our little Amelia,” Derek whispers near Stiles’ ear, and Stiles nods.  

“Who wouldn’t?” Even though Amelia has her mother’s habit of using violence as a form of affection, she is his niece. And it’s not like he doesn’t love Laura, because he  does , and he is glad to have had the chance of knowing her. Camden is a great friend too, always willing to help, kind and generous in the way the stories describe. Some days (perhaps even most) Stiles wonders how Isaac could be related to Camden, for the brothers are as apart as day and night, but then he watches them smile the exact same way at Laura and Scott and it all makes sense. Their love is truly one of a kind. But not better than his and Derek’s, that’s for sure.  

He might be a little bit biased about that.  

They watch then, in companiable silence, as the cheers die down and Laura and Camden introduce their daughter to the outside world for the first time. They can’t see the proud parents from where they stand, but their voice is strong, unwavering, happy.  

Stiles giggles even before Laura finishes her speech with, “And now Amelia Lahey-Hale would like to say something.” Derek chuckles behind him, and at Chris’ adamant huffing and, “I swear, Peter, your family is simply a bunch of big kids,” buries his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck and shoulders. Peter says something witty back to his husband, but Stiles is too focused on his niece to hear what.  

Amelia’s voice is a little shaky and small, but in the respectable silence from the crowd it’s just loud enough for everyone to hear. She introduces herself to quiet coos, and then:  

“My mother and father broke the fountain in the center of the capitol in the middle of the night because they think they are very romantic. They are not. They are fools.” 

Silence in the crowd. Chris sighs behind Stiles and Derek, both of them unable to stop laughing. Amelia claps her hands, evidently proud of not stuttering her way through the big sentence with so many words she doesn’t know.  

And then the crowd laughs.  

“Uncle Derek and Uncle Stiles said to say that!” At Amelia’s admission, the crowd laughs even  harder , and Stiles definitely hears someone say, “This is definitely better than the last time.” Stiles turns to smirk at Peter, who only rolls his eyes.  

Derek, still attached to Stiles’ back with his face almost hidden, wheezes, “We tried,”  

“We definitely did. And we also did better than what your uncle did during Cora’s First Traditional Meeting,”  

Peter refutes the claim. “No you did not.” 

“We did,” Stiles refutes right back. Chris sighs deep and long which means he is judging them all very hardly, but doesn’t actually say anything. “I taught Amelia to say the last part,” he adds smugly. Teaching her not to say ‘fool’ in normal situations wasn’t even that hard. He just had to tell her that it was a special occasion word.  

“And this whole thing was my idea,” Derek says.  

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles at his mate. Derek pecks him, and Peter fake gags.  

“Big children,” Chris sighs, and Peter leans in to kiss his mate. Stiles fake gags this time. Derek, never one to be left unwanted by Stiles’ attention, turns him around and rubs their noses together, their hands intertwining in the small space between their bodies.  

“We make a good team.” Derek states, and he looks so unbelievably happy for it, that Stiles forgets others are around, lost in the bright lure of Derek’s gorgeous eyes and even more breathtaking smile.  

“We do make a good pair,” the words  and I’m glad we found each other  goes unsaid, but they both know it in their bones, the truth of those silent words. Stiles smiles, giddy, and says, “I hope we make an even better pair of parents.” He rubs circles with his thumb on Derek’s hands, still in his, and the moment Derek’s hands start to shake and his mouth goes slack, Stiles kisses him and brings their joined hands to rest on top of his belly. He’s barely showing, but there’s just the tiniest bump; Derek caresses it reverently.

Stiles is glad for Talia's magical ability to match people with their soulmates.