Archive of Our Own ^beta

This being his life, of course it’s his dad who notices something’s different first.

“Um, Stiles?”

Stiles blearily looks up from his breakfast to see his father standing by the fridge looking vaguely uneasy. Not feeling up to communicating in full sentences yet, he makes an inquiring sound and raises an eyebrow.

His dad clears his throat and swallows visibly.

“Have you been doing drugs?” his dad rushes out.

Stiles chokes and falls victim to a five minute coughing fit that leaves him heaving and with teary eyes.

“What? No, dad! Why would you think that?”

His father looks distinctly uncomfortable now and scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, it’s just... you’ve been sleeping like a bear going into hibernation the last few weeks, and you’re eating really strange things. I know some drugs can cause weird cravings and...” he trails off looking kind of sad and a bit disappointed.

Stiles knows he’s gaping like a fish, but he can’t help it. Drugs? Seriously?

His dad fidgets and continues, “I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me about anything, okay? And that, if you were... um, using, I could help you get out of it. I’ve seen what drugs can do to people, and-”

“Woah, woah, WOAH!” Stiles is on his feet and flailing his arms in wild abortive gestures. “I am not doing drugs, Dad! I swear. I guess I’ve just been more tired. Maybe it’s that stupid project we’re working on for class. And uh, the food? I don’t know, I just eat what I want? What’s weird about it?”

Stiles darts a glance at his - okay, slightly dubious - sandwich, from which a goo of jam and nutella are dripping onto the table. He winces a bit. Okay, perhaps some of his recent food choices have been somewhat strange and could, maybe, if one looks at it with a specific mindset, be construed as weird. If only because no one really understands the brilliance of a Stilinski’s mind. Especially a teenage Stilinski with ADHD.

His dad cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow so high that it almost jumps straight over his hair to settle on the back of his head.

Stiles scowls at him and defiantly takes a big bite out of his snack.

“Well, eat what you want to, son, but I gotta tell you, you’re eating like a pregnant woman!”

Stiles goes straight past choking at the comment and into wheezing and gasping. His dad chuckles at him and exits the kitchen before Stiles gets enough breath to break out the sarcasm.

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A week after the discussion-that-shall-never-again-be-mentioned-ever, Stiles wakes up and barely makes it to his wastebasket before his stomach heaves and expels all its contents. He is up and in the bathroom brushing his teeth when his dad finds him.

“Are you sick?” he croaks with his pre-coffee morning voice.

Stiles manages a shrug and spits toothpaste out in the sink.

“Perhaps it’s all that weird food you pour down your throat, kid,” his dad says with a mischievous smile. Stiles thinks it’s way too early for any kind of humor to be unleashed, so he squints at his dad looming in the doorway and goes back to bed.

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After another week of vomiting at ungodly hours, his dad is no longer amused, he is skipping past suspicious right into the kind of worry only a parent can get themselves into. Stiles thinks that all the vomiting brings back horrible memories from when his mother had her chemo therapy. He tries to hide the amount of hours he spends on the bathroom floor with his head in the toilet, but his dad can’t help but notice and he starts coming home earlier and checking in on Stiles more.

He’s way more protective and clingy than when he found out - totally by accident - that Stiles spends most of his time hanging out with werewolves. That had been a fun day. A rogue beta had strayed upon Hale territory and when he caught Alpha scent near Stiles’ house, he’d burst in in full wolf form, prompting the poor sheriff to spew coffee all over and unload his shotgun into the wall, because, yeah, the wolf moved as soon as the weapon was whipped out.

Stiles had called the pack over and it had all sort of spilled out, so at the end of the day his dad had blackmailed him into serving a good, juicy steak to make up for lying and making trouble; and for giving the sheriff the biggest shock of his life.

Not even six months ago, when Stiles finally told his dad about him being gay, had he been this stressed out. He did however force Stiles to sit down for the most awkward sex talk in the history of talking, ever! Stiles had assured him that he had no prospects in sight at that time, and he hadn’t had either. For all his dad knows, he’s still a nineteen year-old virgin.

Except he’s not actually a virgin anymore.

It was really sort of a coincidence. He’d been called out to the Hale house, now renovated and actually kind of cosy, for a sort of pack meeting, bonding thingy, whatever. Derek had received a message from a pack his family used to be close to. They needed help and had pleaded with Derek to come to their assistance. The Alpha had been very reluctant to leave his territory, but Beacon Hills had been quiet on the supernatural front for over a year and his family’s allies would be a great asset to the Hale pack, as well as the other way around, so in the end Derek had agreed to go; but only for three months. He put Boyd in charge of his pack until his return and so far, all had been good.

On the night before Derek’s departure, the pack had demanded some quality time with their Alpha, and Derek had grudgingly allowed them to invite Scott and Stiles and set up a movie night with pizza and loads of popcorn. It had been real fun and everybody had squished together on the two couches. Somehow, Stiles had ended up sitting pressed up against Derek and sometime after they’d consumed all the popcorn, they had all fallen asleep, sprawled all over each other.

Stiles woke up in the middle of the night to find that he and Derek were the only ones left on the couch, and that the Alpha had transformed into a gropey cuddler since his arrival. He was firmly pressed against Derek’s chest, strong arms keeping him in place and their legs tangled up under a blanket.

Naturally, Stiles had panicked and tried to escape his certain death-by-angry-Alpha, but of course, Derek woke up around the same time that Stiles lost his balance and toppled over, jamming a knee into very - very - firm abs. A tussle ensued and within seconds, Derek had him pinned to the couch, a full death-ray glower directed at Stiles. The growl that emanated from Derek had felt like a vibrator against Stiles’ torso, and since he was pretty sure he was about to die, he’d gone with his ultimate defense for getting people off him - he kissed Derek. Right on the lips. Not very good probably, but he was fairly certain that babble or threats would not give him a chance to escape. Perhaps some lip action could freeze Derek’s brain long enough for him to get out to his jeep.

What he had not expected was for Derek to freeze for only about half a second, throw himself on Stiles, simultaneously emita cross between a whine and a moan, and kiss back!

What happened after that, well, Stiles still only has to think about it before he needs to sneak off to the bathroom for a little alone time. And perhaps he’d walked a bit funny the next day. You know, on top of not being able to get rid of that stupid grin that had obstinately plastered itself on his face.

Sure, Stiles has thought about it since, but he’s happy to wait until Derek comes back to see if perhaps they could have, like, a date. To see if maybe there’s something there. They’d certainly had a lot of chemistry that night.

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When Stiles has tried every possible solution to nausea only to be left still vomiting like he’s personally offended his stomach to the degree where it wants to starve him to death, his dad stomps into the kitchen, sets some water to boil and goes to raid the cupboard they never open. The one where most of the herbs and teas his mother used are still stored.

After a few minutes of grumbling and scrambling around, his dad emerges with a box of tea from the back of the cupboard. He stalks back to the counter and fetches a cup. When the tea is done, he walks over and pushes the warm liquid at Stiles.

“Try that. It’s... your mother used to drink that when she had morning sickness.”

Stiles gapes at his dad, who raises his hands and just points to the cup with a determined look. Sighing, Stiles accepts the cup and takes a sip. Since it tastes good, he nods at his dad and continues drinking the sweet brew. It soothes his stomach pretty quickly and somehow it’s both a relief and frankly very disturbing.

His dad sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

Stiles is back to gaping and flailing, he is a master at flailing, thank you very much, and this situation calls for major flailing.

“That’s- It can’t... there’s no way! I-”

All the answer he gets is a raised eyebrow and he stops, standing still and breathing hard. His dad suddenly frowns and tilts his head.

“Turn around sideways, Stiles.”

Following his father’s request he turns around facing the wall, but contorts, trying to see whatever his dad is seeing.

“What?” he asks.

His dad gets up and steps back to look, a concentrated look on his face. Then, he gets all close and personal with Stiles’ stomach and even though Stiles writhes around he can’t see anything worth noticing.

His dad hmms and gets a suspicious look.

“Did you have sex with a werewolf, Stiles?”

Stiles can feel the blush spreading and he knows he’s got to be the color of a ripe tomato. Damn his easy blood flow!

“Um, maybe, sort of. A little?” he tries, smiling innocently.

His dad huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Stiles you are nineteen, even if I want to, I can’t forbid you from having sex, but please tell me you were at least being safe?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to blush harder, but yep, apparently it is.

“Stiles?” his dad says, now using the you-better-answer-now-and-it-better-be-what-I-want-to-hear tone.

“Well, you see, werewolves don’t get any human diseases and I was a virgin, and it was sort of a sudden thing and I, we, just... um, no, we didn’t use protection. Sorry, Dad.”

The Sheriff rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply.

“Okay, since I accepted that werewolves are real, I have been a lot more open about other things being able to happen and I don’t know if this is remotely possible, but I think I read some small note about alpha mates in that beasty book of yours. Like it’d be extremely rare, but not unheard of, for a male alpha’s mate to become, well, pregnant. And well, you’re not exactly showing or anything, but there is sort of a little swell right here,” he says and places a hand over his son’s abdomen. “It could be nothing, but maybe we should, um, check that out. You know, just to be sure that’s not it.”

Stiles is pretty sure this is another universe. Or he’s dreaming. Or having a nightmare. He’s aware of his dad stepping back to look again, but he can’t focus on it. There’s a rushing sound in his ears and he can feel the panic start to rise.

“‘Scuse me for a minute,” he squeaks and runs off to his room, fetching the Bestiary. He brings it back down to the kitchen and starts turning the pages frantically. When his breathing gets so fast he’s almost hyperventilating, his dad rips the books from his grip and calmly finds the passage he’d read and shoves the book back under Stiles’ nose.

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It’s after hours, when they park in front of the vet clinic. Stiles is still freaking out, so his dad ushers him out of the car and supports his elbow as they walk to the door. Deaton shows up shortly after the first knock and upon seeing the sheriff, promptly unlocks the door.

“Is there a problem, Sheriff? Stiles?”

Stiles’ dad clears his throat and lowers his voice before leaning in a little.

“Stiles tells me you are the one they go to with the hairy problems? Perhaps we could borrow a bit of your time. I assure you it’s urgent.”

Deaton’s eyes widen slightly before he open the door enough for them to enter. He locks it immediately behind them and follows them into the examination room.

“Well, what can I do for you Sheriff?”

Stiles, being Stiles, can’t keep his mouth shut any longer and blurts out, “Can male Alpha mates get pregnant?”

The silence is deafening for a few moments, before Deaton’s eyes zero in on Stiles and he rushes off to the back room, emerging with a few heavy, antique looking books. He dumps them on the exam table and starts rifling through them. Nobody says anything for another ten minutes while Deaton reads.

“Well, there seems to be some stories that would suggest such a scenario would be possible, but there are no facts, which would indicate that if this had ever happened, it must have been a very long time ago. Frankly it sounds more like myth to me. Now, why is this so important?”

Stiles swallows convulsively and then stutters out, “I may have had unprotected sex with an Alpha, perhaps... And now I am apparently acting like a pregnant woman, according to my dad.”

Deaton’s gaze fixes upon the sheriff who stares him down determinedly.

“He sleeps like the dead, he eats the most bizarre things, and he recently started vomiting so much he can’t keep anything down. The only thing that soothes his stomach, temporarily, is the tea my wife used when she had morning sickness back when she expected Stiles.”

Deaton turns around and grabs a pair of latex gloves, smiles in that sort of, but not really, creepy way he always does.

“Well, get on the table Stiles, and I’ll see what we can find out.”

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Stiles is sitting on the floor with his head between his knees, breathing hard and trying not to succumb to a panic attack. His dad is still shrieking at Deaton, who remains calm and tries to answer questions.

Stiles can’t focus on what they’re saying. His whole world just turned upside down. He’s pregnant. He’s fucking pregnant! How is this his life? What’s happening, seriously?

The sheriff is finally done yelling and has collapsed in a chair. Deaton brings Stiles some water.

“This is almost unheard of. A human male carrying an Alpha’s cub.” His tone is awestruck, filled with fascination.

Stiles sends his most withering glare at the vet.

“Thanks, I feel so special now!”

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With some supplements from Deaton - he still grumbles about having to eat freaking dog medicine - Stiles is now feeling much better and not vomiting as much. It’s not even every day now, as opposed to somewhere between three and six times a day before.

After the initial shock, his dad moves on to teary eyed I’m-gonna-be-a-grandpa speeches scarily fast. Stiles’ head is still spinning and he knows he has to tell Derek, but he knows the dude. If he calls Derek while he’s away on an important trip and says, “Hey, guess what, you’re gonna be a dad!” his life will end before he can even convince Derek he’s not making jokes or, in the extremely unlikely event that Derek believes him, he will have to take responsibility for ruining whatever chances their pack had to keep their allies.

Plus, Stiles is not really sure yet how serious Derek is about him. They didn’t exactly talk about it before he left, and now it’s been over a month without a single word from Derek. Stiles is pretty sure the Alpha has his number, but he hasn’t called or texted once, so, yeah, not going there just yet. It had not really been an awkward morning after and Derek had not avoided him in the morning, he’d actually been fairly friendly, and Stiles had a feeling that maybe this wasn’t as one-sided as he’d thought. But it could be just wishful thinking on Stiles’ part. He does have a track record for crushing on unobtainable people.

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The next day Stiles goes to tell Scott. The relief when he’s said it is tangible, and he is reminded why Scott is his best friend. Stiles is anxious about telling him, but when he fidgets so much upon arrival that even Scott frowns at him, he rushes it out.

“IhadsexwithDerekandnowI’mpregnant!”

Scott blinks at him a few times and when Stiles does not slap him and shout kidding, he clears his throat and asks Stiles if he’s sure. Stiles tells him about the visit to Deaton, the myths about male Alpha mates and everything else he’s been told.

Scott is quiet for a few minutes before timidly glancing at Stiles’ stomach.

“I’m not showing yet, dude, quit staring at me,” Stiles says. Scott is still not freaking out and that is a good sign that he will be able to keep his best friend through this.

“Scott, are you going to be okay with this?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

Scott looks at him incredulously.

“You thought I’d run screaming and refuse to be friends with you just because you got knocked up? Come on, man! We do attract some crazy shit though. And since when are you gay?”

Scott sounds affronted that Stiles apparently had a major epiphany and didn’t tell him about it.

“Dude, Scott, no, I still like some girls, I guess I’m bi? I actually thought you’d be more pissed about the fact that it’s Derek.”

Scott scoffs, “Yeah, he is a douche. But who am I to judge and at least I know you are not going to make it easy for him. I’ve never seen anybody else standing up to him the way you do.”

Stiles returns the goofy grin Scott beams at him, but suddenly Scott’s smile slips off and he frowns.

“Hey, have you told Derek yet?”

Stiles shakes his head and tells Scott about his reasoning for not telling Derek right away. Scott seems to agree with him and they move on to talking about Scott and Allison’s latest relationship crisis. That gets them through the rest of the afternoon.

Stiles is on his way out the door, he promised his dad they’d have dinner together, when Scott grabs his arm.

“Um, I don’t want to say the wrong thing here, because I actually think this is pretty great, but um, have you thought about, you know, whether you want this? I’m sure Deaton could figure out how to do a male abortion if you don’t want....” he trails off cautiously.

Stiles gapes at him. Like, his jaw is still rattling from the impact of hitting the floor. He’s never even entertained the thought of trying to get rid of his baby. It’s not like he ever thought he’d be in this situation, because, well, he didn’t believe it was possible. But he’s always wanted kids someday and now that it’s actually happening... No he couldn’t do that. He already loves his cub, and he hopes Derek will feel the same. He is certainly a family man, or wolf rather, so there’s a good possibility.

He instinctively curls a protective hand over his stomach and looks back at Scott, who seems to already know the answer from Stiles’ expression.

“No, I want this, Scott. I could never do... that.” God, he can’t even say it.

Scott’s face breaks in a huge smile and he nods at Stiles.

“Good. Anything you need, I’ll help, okay? Just let me know.”

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About a week after Stiles’ visit to Deaton, he gets a weird, crawling sensation under his skin. He is jittery and jumpy and can’t sit still. It’s literally like he has ants in his pants. He tries walking around the block a couple of times a day, but the feeling doesn’t dissipate.

The third day he wakes up with the urge to jump around like crazy to just get rid of that feeling already, he tries settling down on the bed and focusing inward. Perhaps it’s his body trying to tell him something, other than perhaps he should cut down on the sugar. After he’s been breathing slow and deep for a few minutes it’s like he can suddenly feel small hooks fastening in his flesh, pulling him to his right, towards the door. He immediately gets up and follows the feeling.

It compels him downstairs and outside. Stiles gets in his jeep, there’s no knowing where the hell he’s supposed to go and how far it will be, so he prefers easy means of transportation.

About a quarter mile outside town he knows where he’s being dragged. The Hale house. It’s not really a surprise, he supposes he should have known. Werewolves have a strong sense of pack, and there’s no reason to believe he won’t be affected by it, now that he’s carrying a cub. Cubs? Deaton hadn’t been certain whether an Alpha’s mate produces babies or puppies. Or well, it will be a baby, but whether it’s born in wolf form or human, that’s the trick. Werewolves are very protective of their offspring and there isn’t much to go on in the Bestiary or any of the other books they have access to. Deaton had also been conflicted about whether there’s a bigger chance it will be an actual litter - Stiles shudders at the thought - like wolves or one or two like humans. He sort of leaned towards the norm for humans, seeing as he doesn’t know too many twin wolves.

While he’s been thinking, Stiles has arrived in front of the Hale house and the tugging he feels is stronger now. Almost urgent. He stumbles out of his jeep and towards the porch and up the steps. When he’s in front of the door he sort of hesitates. Is he supposed to knock and all that?

The decision is taken out of his hands as the door opens and Isaac peers around it.

“Hi Stiles. What’s up?”

Stiles realizes he should have thought up some excuse before he got here, but well, that’s a little too late now.

“Um, can I come in? There’s something I need,” he asks. Isaac opens the door wide and Stiles sidesteps him and follows the tugging further into the house. Isaac is looking at him really strangely and even Boyd has shown his face, furrowing his brow at Stiles’ march through the house.

As he ascends the stairs, Stiles hears Jackson’s voice filtering up from the living room.

“What do you want, Stilinski? You’ve got no business here.”

His tone is not friendly. Boyd looks back towards him and growls slightly.

Stiles is at the top of the stairs and the tugging is almost a physical force by now. Soon he realizes where he’s going. Derek’s room. Uh oh. This is going to cause trouble, but frankly he doesn’t care right now.

He’s barely taken two steps into Derek’s bedroom when there’s a roar and Boyd is slamming him up against the wall. All air is punched from Stiles due to the force of the impact, leaving him wheezing slightly.

“What do you think-” Boyd yells.

He doesn’t get any further before Isaac whines and jumps on Boyd, pulling him back. Isaac never fights unless he has to, and he does not disobey orders, ever, so Boyd’s growl ceases and he turns around to stare at him. The curly haired wolf is fixed totally on Stiles and he’s breathing deeply.

“Boyd, take a few deep breaths. Smell him,” Isaac whispers. His eyes are huge and he keeps flicking glances up and down Stiles’ body. A few of Deaton’s words come back to Stiles then, about how sometimes animals can smell the pregnancy hormones, and how the need to protect is overpowering. Of course Isaac would be the one to discover it.

Boyd inhales deeply several times before his eyes flash amber and he snaps his head around to stare unabashedly at Stiles.

“But- How’s that- When?”

Stiles would normally be amused, hearing Boyd this flustered, but he’s sort of got other things to worry about right now.

“Um, yeah, so I guess you can smell it, huh?” Stiles asks, and tries to look like it’s nothing new. Nothing to freak out about. Nothing that is not supposed to be humanly - or werewolfly - possible.

Isaac rushes over and grabs Stiles around the middle, hugs him close and sniffs like a creeper. Boyd is still staring and Stiles can hear Jackson scampering up the stairs, eager to find out what the hell has the others so upset.

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It turns out that what Stiles craved so bad is actually Derek. Since he’s not there, the stupid werewolf pregnancy hormones decides that he needs to have some of the Alpha’s stuff, with his scent coincidentally, to feel safe and content. The pack is surprisingly accommodating and shoves Derek’s sleep shirt, his pillow, blanket and even his leather jacket at Stiles and insists he take it all home with him.

His dad looks skeptical when Stiles returns with his gains, but doesn’t comment. He manages to remain silent even when he comes in to say goodnight and finds Stiles in a nest of blankets, wearing Derek’s shirt, sleeping on his pillow and with the leather jacket in a death grip. He merely shakes his head and flicks off the light.

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After he went to Derek’s house and subsequently told the pack about his circumstances, they have been clingier than a bucket full of leeches, and at least one member of the pack follows him everywhere. At college, which they all attend, since the pack doesn’t want to split up, even for something as important as their education, at home, grocery shopping, and any and all outings. It seems to satisfy their sense of responsibility for the pack’s cub, and Stiles doesn’t have the heart to complain. If he even starts, they bring out the puppy eyes and he cannot stand it. With the hormones he’s even more susceptible than before, and he was not known for his resistance prior to becoming the pack’s ‘baby momma’.

When they found out, Stiles had told them about his reasoning for not telling Derek yet and they had all agreed fervently. Isaac sometimes whimpers about keeping a secret from their Alpha, but the others keep him in line knowing how important it is that Stiles be the one to tell. Erica is excited about the cub, and she apparently does not feel as compelled to tell as Isaac does. Isaac has always hated confrontations, and Stiles thinks that might have something to do with it.

Lydia had promptly told him to fucking text Derek and start some serious flirting - that made Stiles blush and squeak, Jackson cough and Boyd had looked thoroughly unimpressed - to figure out if Derek wants something more. Stiles sent him a text that night, just some random silly fact about something he’d read and a daring I miss you. Derek had sent a text back, barely more than his usually grunt-for-an-answer, but he’d replied, so Stiles had continued writing undaunted.

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Two weeks later, Derek has actually worked himself up to full sentences even managing to keep things civil. Obviously Stiles is very pleased.

Today he’s supposed to go with his dad, and probably whatever pack-leech will be stuck to him, to Deaton’s for a check-up and an ultra sound.

They arrive, once again, after regular hours and Stiles is on the table within minutes, with Deaton poking and prodding him. He’s still not showing much, but it’s visible if he’s shirtless. His dad is torn between anxiousness and excitement, and Boyd - today’s leech - is utterly stoic. It’s a weird combination and they couldn’t look less like they’re actually faced with the same situation, but well, they are. Apart from the fact where the sheriff is actually going to be a grandpa and not a pack uncle.

The vet sets up the equipment and presses Stiles down to lie on his back before drizzling some cool gel on his abdomen and tracing the ultrasound wand around, trying to find the cub. Deaton feels that it’s better if they keep an eye on things as soon as possible, and he’s not entirely sure if a werewolf pregnancy will progress faster than a human one, so yeah, not taking any chances. Which is fine by Stiles.

Stiles tries not to wince at the unpleasant feeling of the wand sliding in the cool gel on his stomach, and the less than comfortable prodding while Deaton works focused.

After a few moments he utters an ah and flicks a few buttons, a very fast beat is heard in the room.

“That’s the heartbeat, right?” Stiles asks. “Is it supposed to be that fast?” It would figure that, even while still a fetus, his baby would manage to be hyperactive and running flailing circles around all the other fetuses.

Deaton chuckles, “No, there are two heartbeats, Stiles. Congratulations, you’re having twins.”

His dad breaks out in hysterical thank you’s, while Stiles squawks and almost falls off the table. Boyd remains as calm and collected as always, merely supports Stiles and keeps him from toppling over. When Stiles asks him how he remains so unaffected, he shrugs.

“I already knew there are two, so it’s not like it was a big surprise.”

“What? How?” Stiles demands, disgruntled.

Boyd snorts.

“Does werewolf hearing ring a bell?”

Stiles glares magnificently, not that Boyd is impressed.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” Stiles demands.

“Nah, this ultrasound thingy is very important to you pregnant people, so we figured we’d let you have the experience.”

“Gee, thanks so much. My life is now complete,” Stiles grumbles, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

Just then, Deaton has found the cubs on the ultrasound screen and freezes the frame, pointing to two small, peanut shaped spots. Stiles instantly tears up and starts wailing. Fucking hormones!

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One morning, a week before Derek is scheduled to arrive home, the sheriff is making pancakes in the kitchen for himself, Stiles - who now has a truly amazing appetite - and half the pack. They are usually hanging around as much as they can, and Stiles has been really impressed with his dad’s tolerance for weird werewolf tendencies; like piling up on the couch together, even though there are two very comfortable armchairs right next to it. Not to mention the ravenous horde spilling in the door when school is over, and the general squabbling and growling.

Just as the sheriff is piling the last pancake on a plate there is an almighty shriek from upstairs. The present werewolves are up from the couch and thundering up the stairs before the last tone dies off. They find Stiles is his bedroom, sitting dejectedly on his bed, jeans unzipped.

Erica is the first to recover.

“What the fuck was that, Stiles? Did the cubs kick?”

He sniffles and shakes his head.

“No, it’s my jeans. They won’t fit anymore. I’m fat!” Stiles gets up and turns his side to them, displaying the soft swelling of his abdomen. It’s not much, but it is enough that it’s becoming noticeable.

Silence reigns for about thirty seconds and then all the werewolves are on the floor, howling with laughter. Stiles dumps the jeans, hauls out a pair of sweatpants and stomps out of the room in a snit. His dad offers pancakes when he gets downstairs and then scurries off to find a pair of his own jeans - hopelessly out of fashion - for Stiles to wear to class. When Erica, Isaac, Scott and Jackson appear in the kitchen five minutes later, with very straight faces, Stiles is still fuming and they take care not to anger him further. Isaac even goes as far as buying Stiles curly fries for lunch. Jackson coughs something that sounds suspiciously like suck-up. No one pays him any mind.

After school the pack insist on taking Stiles shopping for new clothes. He pouts and reminds them that he will only get bigger, so there’s really no reason to buy something that won’t fit in a few weeks. Isaac and Scott bring out the puppy eyes, Erica glares and Boyd ignores them all. In the end Stiles relents and comes home with some ridiculously baggy jeans, big hoodies to hide his growing belly and two baby bodystockings with cartoon wolves that Erica had cooed over until Jackson huffed and brought out his credit card, snatched the overpriced things, and marched off to the checkout.

After they get home and have stuffed their faces, Erica brings up a valid point. He definitely needs to cook up an excuse soon to explain why he is suddenly gaining weight, and only around the middle. He can’t very well tell people he’s pregnant. Those who don’t deal with werewolves on a daily basis are most likely to react badly to such a statement.

When Jackson suggests telling people he’s developing a beer gut, Stiles throws a bottle at his smirking face and Scott smacks the back of his head, tipping Jackson off his chair onto the floor.

In the end it’s the sheriff who solves the issue. When they are still arguing at dinner, he looks up like it’s a no brainer and simply states that they could blame it on Stiles’ meds. They could tell people that he had to switch to another kind, which messes with his metabolism and causes him to gain weight. A few moments of silence follows before everybody talks at once, praising the sheriff for his good thinking.

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The day before Derek is supposed to arrive, Stiles is sitting in his room alone for once, and anxiously waiting for Derek to respond to his text. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are downstairs watching a game with his dad, and Scott is on a date with Allison. Jackson has been awarded the honor of house sitting for the night, and is at Derek’s with Lydia.

Legs jittering, Stiles checks his outbox again, double checking that his text wasn’t too forward and can’t be misunderstood. It a simple message.

Hey Sourwolf, bet you’re howling to get home, eh? ;) I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me sometime? As a date? S

He’d felt a little weird about adding the date part, but he wanted to make sure it was clear that he meant more than just meeting as friends. Perhaps it is a little forward, considering this is Derek he’s texting, but hey, the dude knocked him up so he feels justified.

He gets through half his econ assignment before his phone buzzes and he launches for it, almost tipping over his desk chair in the process. His heart is hammering in his chest and his fingers tremble.

You’re not funny! Alright. Next week? D

Okay so, at least it’s an affirmative. Maybe Stiles would like a bit more enthusiasm, but seeing as Derek’s normal means of communication consists of growling and grunting, it’s not necessarily a bad answer.

Stiles quickly types a reply.

Sure. Would like to talk to you when you get home. See you then.

He doesn’t get a response for that one, but it doesn’t bother him. Derek never really writes unless he has something to say.

When his energy depletes, he goes downstairs to find his dad at the bottom of another puppy pile on the couch. The sight makes him chuckle and his heart melts. Isaac is stretched along the couch with his feet in the sheriff’s lap, Erica is lying half on top of Boyd with her back rested against his dad’s side. Boyd is half sitting by the arm rest and the tv is still on. Stiles turns it off and if he didn’t have personal experience with the heat that comes along with being at the bottom of a pile of werewolves, he’d find a blanket for them as well, but he knows it’s entirely unnecessary.

He goes to bed and falls asleep hugging Derek’s jacket with one arm, the other draped over his own stomach.

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When Derek swings up the driveway to his house he can feel a sense of calm and home settle over him. It’s been a long three months away. He’d been increasingly jumpy as the urge to be home with his pack had grown. In the end he had most likely been a tad unpleasant, but his family’s friends had understood, they know how it is with wolf packs. Perhaps he hadn’t respected all the traffic laws on his way home, but the alliance is important for the pack and now it’s secure, so all in all, the trip has been worth it.

The fact that no disasters have hit Beacon Hills while he’s been away is also a very essential part of the reason he’d been able to not freak totally out and run for home.

Now that he is finally back, it’s even more obvious how much he’s missed his pack. Even Stiles. Okay, it’s more like especially Stiles if he’s honest. For a long time he’d thought that Stiles was just an annoying sidekick that he had to endure if he wanted Scott to hang around, but then he’d proved useful, and along the way his incessant rambling and quirky humor had gotten under Derek’s skin. The kid is easy on the eyes as well. Maybe not traditionally handsome, he’s kind of awkward and lanky, but there’s a sort of harmony there that Derek finds very appealing.

To say that Derek had been surprised by the turn of events the night before he left would be a gross understatement, and he thought about it a lot the first few weeks of his trip. For some reason Stiles hadn’t contacted him, and given how much he usually talks, well, Derek had thought he regretted what they’d done that night. He doesn’t want to pressure Stiles and Derek knows that even though he’s got the looks, his personality is not exactly sunny and peachy, so could he blame a guy like Stiles for thinking thanks, but no thanks?

Then Stiles started texting him a couple of weeks ago and Derek had been cautiously optimistic. Perhaps Stiles also thought they could be good together. The texts hadn’t been flirtatious or anything, but at least Stiles has shown interest. Of course then he’d written yesterday evening asking for an actual date, and Derek had been so flustered he’d totally messed up the trail he was scenting at the time.

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When Derek gets out of his car, his first thought is that it’s far too quiet. His second thought is that apparently the pack hasn’t stayed at his house much because their scents, while still present and lingering, are weaker than when he departed. He inhales deeply, but there are no traces of strangers anywhere near the house, so it appears that they just didn’t feel like staying here without him. He frowns. His house is supposed to be a place where the pack feels safe and happy, so why did they stay away?

As he enters he can hear the tv is on in the living room. Following the sound, he finds Jackson sleeping on the couch, Lydia draped over his chest. No one else is in sight. When Derek turns off the TV Jackson’s eyes snap open and he looks straight at Derek.

“Where are the others?” Derek grumbles. He wants them to know he’s not happy they all abandoned his house.

“They’re at Stiles’ place,” Jackson croaks, turning over so he’s facing the back of the couch, Lydia cradled against his chest. A hand fumbles for a blanket blindly and when it catches a corner, pulls it up and drapes it over the sleeping girl.

Derek huffs and resigns himself to having to go to town and bring back the rest of his pack, but first he will unpack his bags and get a change of clothes. He stomps upstairs and into his room, where he freezes just inside the doorway. His pillow and blanket are gone, so is his leather jacket. Who would take them? Isaac wouldn’t dare, and Boyd probably doesn’t care enough to do it. If Erica stole his leather jacket to try and look cool he’ll break her arms and make her bait for the next two training exercises. A low growl is rumbling in his chest as he searches his drawers for a clean pair of jeans and a shirt.

As he passes the living room on his way out to the car, he sees that Jackson is once again sleeping. It would seem the pack has gotten lazy without him. He growls in the car all the way into town.

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Stiles wakes up early on the day they’re expecting Derek back and he turns restlessly for about half an hour before he gives up and and grabs Derek’s jacket and pillow, walks down the stairs and into the living room where the others are still sleeping in a pile on the couch. He nudges Isaac, who murmurs in his sleep, but scoots over so Stiles can lay down next to him, resting his head on his dad’s stomach, still clinging tightly to Derek’s pillow and wearing the jacket. Erica unfurls a bit and snakes a hand over to rub Stiles’ neck, but she doesn’t seem to be fully awake. Boyd is snoring softly and the whole scene is so cozy that Stiles is asleep with Isaac’s arms hugging his legs, Erica petting him and his dad and Boyd snoring a soft soundtrack within minutes.

Nobody even notices when the Camaro pulls into the drive.

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Stepping out of the car, Derek takes a deep breath and is almost overwhelmed with the intensity of the pack’s scent. So at least he’s figured out where they’ve been all this time, but why have they been at Stiles’? Apart from Scott they’ve never been especially fond of him, so what’s changed?

He is not sure whether he should try the frontdoor, the cruiser is still in the drive so the sheriff must be home. Whether or not he’s aware he is hosting almost an entire werewolf pack is uncertain, so Derek quickly sneaks around to the back of the house and nimbly launches himself up to Stiles’ window. It’s not locked so he pushes it open and vaults inside.

The room is empty, but the smell of the pack on the bed is intense. They’ve all been here, quite a lot it seems. When Derek gets closer he gets a whiff of his own scent. It’s old and faded, but there. It turns out to be his blanket and one of his old shirts that he didn’t even know was missing.

Deciding to check downstairs, he finds the whole gang, including Stiles and - shockingly - the sheriff, in a big pile on the couch. He waits a moment for his scent to pervade the room and watches, secretly amused, as Boyd, Isaac and Erica tense up suddenly.

What he would not in a million fucking years expect is for them all to turn golden eyes on him, and for a chorus of growls to resonate around the room. What the hell? His alertness skyrockets, and his elevated senses pick up on a strange scent. Not unpleasant, sort of rich and delicate; it’s like a faint echo of something he’s smelled before, a long time ago. His nostrils flare and he knows his eyes are probably glowing red.

His betas’ growls falter and a few whines sneak in in response to his reaction, but they are still visibly tense, though focused solely on Derek, and after a few heart beats Erica’s growl resumes.

Derek shifts and tries to locate the origin of that scent and finds, to his surprise, that it seems to emanate from Stiles. He takes a few stuttering steps towards the couch resulting in Erica and Isaac jumping to their feet in a flash, blocking Stiles from view.

Derek might be a lenient Alpha in some ways now, but putting up with growling and offensive behavior from his betas will still make his blood boil. His own answering growl has the force of an Alpha, and he can see Erica faltering, but even though Isaac whines pathetically, he stands tall and refuses to back down.

Just as Derek is preparing to deal with the situation, Stiles’ voice comes from behind his betas.

“It’s okay guys, stand down. All that growling will wake up my dad.”

To Derek’s consternation, Isaac and Erica immediately bow down. They stop growling, their postures slump and they turn half towards Stiles, who peeks over Isaac’s shoulder at Derek.

“Hey, Sourwolf. Welcome back,” he says with a smile.

A part of Derek sort of wants to smile back, but he’s stunned by the display he’s just watched, and his instincts are whining about that scent Stiles is leaking in buckets around the room while at the same time raging about the need to assert his claim over his pack members, who seem to have changed loyalties. His human side knows there has to be an explanation though. Whatever expression is breaks through his usually blank mask must have shown some of his disappointment with his betas, because Stiles smiles Derek’s favorite crooked smile and puts a hand on Isaac’s arm, squeezing gently.

Not being able to find an appropriate response to the greeting, Derek raises an eyebrow and blurts, “How did you steal my betas while I was away? Bribe them with food?”

Stiles snorts.

“Nope, couldn’t get rid of them, they are like leeches. Protective leeches, but still.”

Erica glares at him and Isaac looks sort of sheepish.

Derek is instantly on alert.

“Why do you need protection? Did you have problems with hunters? Rogues?”

Stiles smiles at him and shakes his head, looking oddly intense. Happy, but intense.

Then, he pushes Isaac out of the way and steps forward, shrugging out of his - hey! That’s Derek’s - jacket. Even with the oversized t-shirt Stiles is wearing, his swollen belly is obvious on a guy so slim.

Derek feels his jaw drop and he is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

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Stiles looks at Derek, who is still just standing there staring with his mouth wide open. Stiles considers making one of those ‘don’t catch a fly’ jokes, but come on, they’re ancient and stupid, so no, just no.

As the silence stretches on, a feeling of dread sneaks up on Stiles. He can feel his smile falter and his hands automatically wind around his stomach to cradle his cubs. Is Derek going to freak out and run off? Is he going to demand that Stiles gets rid of their babies? He can feel his chest constrict and his breath starts wheezing as his pulse picks up.

His reaction seems to kick Derek into gear and he stumbles forward, stopping a few feet from Stiles with his hand hovering in front of his belly as if he wants to touch it.

“Is that-? Are you... Stiles?” Derek’s voice is soft and gentle, his eyes full of wonderment.

Stiles’ heartbeat is still thundering along, but he is no longer afraid that Derek will freak out or demand unreasonable things. He’s never seen the Alpha this mellow and docile. He sniffs - when did he start tearing up again? Man, hormones are a bitch!

“I’m pregnant,” Stiles croaks, voice thick. He clears his throat and tries to inject a bit of his usual sass, “Your freaky werewolf sperm knocked me up!” Since he’s still got tears in his eyes and now also a big giddy smile to boot, he doesn’t think his complaint sounds all that sincere.

Derek’s eyes are all but rolling out of his head, and his gaze keeps flickering between Stiles’ face and his stomach. He reaches out his hands again, letting them hover almost as if he is afraid to make contact without permission.

“Can I?” the Alpha asks, timidly, which is a first. Normally he’s all growls and glowing eyes and ‘I’m the Alpha’, barging in wherever he wants, whenever he wants. Stiles makes do with a nod, since his voice has temporarily abandoned him.

Warm, gentle hands land on his belly and caress the swell of it in soft circles. The Alpha’s big palms almost cover Stiles’ baby bump entirely. A smile grows on Derek’s face, slowly but steadily. He steps up close to Stiles, presenting a comforting line of warmth along his side.

Not being one for silences, comfortable or otherwise, Stiles sniffs again and looks up at Derek, a crooked smile surfacing.

“So, still wanna date me?”

Derek huffs, somewhere between exasperated and amused, and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you still wanna date me, Stiles?”

Stiles glares at him and points a finger in the Alpha’s chest.

“Just because we skipped a few steps in this whole process does not mean you can get out of taking me on a real date, Sourwolf!”

Derek chuckles and bends to nuzzle Stiles’ neck. He hums contentedly and licks a wet trail from Stiles’ collarbone to that sensitive spot behind his ear. Stiles blushes and darts glances at the pack. They are all grinning smugly, even Boyd. Isaac looks ready to burst, he’s so happy.

Stiles hides his face in the crook of Derek’s neck and murmurs quietly, “Are you really okay with this? It’s a huge deal and I don’t wanna force anything on you.”

Strong arms wrap around Stiles, and Derek squeezes him tight.

“It’s more than okay, Stiles. It’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted a big family, it’s a big part of being a wolf. I’ve just been afraid. Ever since the fire... It kinda makes you scared to hope, you know?” His voice sounds oddly tight and Stiles realizes that Derek is just as emotional as he is. It’s a comforting thought, but a little daunting at the same time. Stiles has never seen Derek showing this much emotion before.

“Well, we’ll be your family now. The pack, you, me, and the cubs.”

Derek’s eyes widen again. “Cubs? As in plural?”

Stiles laughs and presses a kiss to the Alpha’s throat.

“Yes, there’re two in here.” Stiles pats his stomach happily.

Derek looks stunned for about half a second, then he smiles even wider and grabs Stiles’ face with both his hands and plants a big, wet kiss on those tempting, full lips.

There is a whine behind them and Stiles and Derek both look around to see the rest of the pack almost vibrating on the spot to join them. The Alpha huffs and opens one of his arms to let them in on the hugging. Isaac rushes over, Erica squeals, “We’re having puppies!” and launches herself at them.

Boyd walks over at a normal pace, while Stiles’s dad lets out a confused snort and almost tips off the couch when all his werewolf blankets dart off. He opens his eyes blearily and surveys the pile of tangled arms and legs that are the pack, Stiles in the center.

“Good morning, shall I start the pancakes then?” the sheriff asks.

Stiles tries to get a visual of his dad through the mass of werewolves, but eventually gives up and settles for yelling, “Thanks, Dad, that’d be great.”

His dad hums in affirmation and as an afterthought calls out, “Welcome to the family, Derek.”

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The whole morning is spent with the pack munching a huge load of pancakes while telling Derek all he’s missed, how Stiles got symptoms, their visit to Deaton, the whole How the fuck is this even possible? dilemma, and they also disclose their reasoning for not telling Derek sooner. He grumbles about it a bit, but is too happy to keep holding a grudge for long. He forgives Stiles right away and Stiles is quick to take advantage of his privileges as mother-to-be, demanding extra pancakes and sending the others to get his things for him. Derek watches, amused, as his pack scampers about catering to Stiles’ every whim. He’s also proud though, to see his pack so focused and responsible.

After lunch Derek sends his betas off so he can have a little time alone with Stiles. They end up in his room cuddling on the bed. Derek can’t keep his hands off Stiles’ belly and he curls down pressing an ear to the swollen skin, listening to the cubs’ heartbeats with a joyous expression on his face. Stiles can’t recall ever seeing the Alpha so relaxed and happy and he reaches a hand down, caressing Derek’s cheek, the stubble rough under his fingers. A surge of delight fills him and he tangles his fingers in the older guy’s hair, pulling him up and into a kiss.

Stiles sighs happily into the kiss and when Derek licks along his bottom lip, he opens up, drawing the Alpha’s tongue into his mouth, caressing it with his own. A moan rumbles in Derek’s chest and he pushes his thigh between Stiles’ legs. With the hormones and all, Stiles’ libido has been off the scale the last couple of weeks, so it doesn’t take long for him to heat up, and soon he is grinding his erection against Derek’s leg, panting into their kisses, which have taken a turn for the decidedly filthy.

Grabbing the hem of Derek’s shirt, Stiles whines at him to get it off already. He wants to get his hands all over those amazing abs and as soon as the shirt hits the floor he does just that, while sucking wet kisses along Derek’s jaw, pausing to bite gently at a delicious earlobe. Derek gasps and retaliates by biting the crook of Stiles’ neck. That is one of his weak spots and Stiles moans obscenely. Whatever, he’s getting sex so he doesn’t care.

Derek pushes him over on his back and shoves Stiles’ baggy t-shirt up, revealing his stomach. Stiles blushes, feeling a little self conscious about his appearance, but Derek is looking at him with this hungry gleam in his eyes, like Stiles is the tastiest fucking buffet he’s ever laid eyes on. A pink tongue darts out to wet his lips and then he bends down, nuzzling Stiles’ belly button, flicking his tongue inside. Stiles squeals and cuffs him on the back of his head. Normally his belly button is not off limits, but ever since his belly started growing it’s been very sensitive and not in the oh-my-god-if-you-touch-me-there-I-will-fucking-jizz-all-over way, but rather in the oh-my-god-so-ticklish-and-if-you-value-your-life-you-will-stay-away-from-it way.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, “it’s overly sensitive right now, so could you um, perhaps, put your tongue elsewhere?”

Derek smirks and Stiles instantly knows he’s in trouble. A wet stripe is left down Stiles’ side by Derek’s wicked tongue and it doesn’t stop until it hits his groin. Derek nuzzles Stiles’ throbbing erection and he pushes his nose into the dark hair at the base, inhaling the pure scent of man. Stiles groans, panting for breath. Those damn hormones make him so fucking easy it’s almost embarrassing. He’s about ready to beg and plead for Derek to just get on with it. He doesn’t really want to rush it; he wants to savour every second, but his blood is pounding through his veins like fire and he can feel precome oozing from his straining erection. Suddenly Derek’s tongue is there, licking it up, and Stiles can’t help but to thrust up, seeking friction.

“Derek, please, fuck! I want you so much!”

In response, Derek covers the baby bump with both his hands and promptly wraps his lips around his lover’s cock, taking all of him in, swirling his tongue and providing delicious suction. Stiles fists the sheets and tries not to fuck up into the Alpha’s mouth. It’s simultaneously too much and not nearly enough, so he gasps and writhes, but lets Derek control the tempo.

One of the Alpha’s hands shoot out and rip open the drawer in the bedside table, rummaging around for the lube his nose tells him is kept in there. It takes him less than ten seconds and Stiles spares a moment to be jealous about that; if he’d been the one searching blindly for lube with one hand and his mouth still wrapped around a cock, he’d be there for days or until his bed fellow fell asleep while waiting. While he’s been musing on his own shortcomings, Derek has slicked up his fingers and is trailing them south, leaving slippery trails, fondling Stiles’ balls and moving further down, circling his entrance.

The entire time that Derek is opening Stiles with his fingers, he continues kissing and nuzzling at his lover’s belly. Stiles can’t help but think that Derek is kind of adorable with this. Clearly the werewolf has some major protective instincts flaring up. It seems the pregnancy has unearthed some deeply rooted feelings and while making him happy, seems to have nudged Derek over the line between human and wolf. At least judging on the fact that those are not completely human teeth worrying at the skin of Stiles’ hip.

“Watch the teeth, wolf boy,” he jokes, smiling down at the Alpha, who merely snorts and rolls his eyes. Yeah, even while sucking cock he can still give that look of how are you even still breathing if you’re that stupid?

Before Stiles can start blabbering about his vast intelligence, Derek crooks the two fingers he’s got in his lover’s ass and hits his prostate dead on. Stiles moans loudly and arches his back.

“Fuck, yes, yes, fuck, right there! Jesus Derek, I want your cock, now!”

Stiles looks up and his eyes meet Derek’s. The Alpha’s pupils are blown wide in desire, leaving only a thin ring of red visible. He growls and crawls up Stiles’ body, kissing and nipping along the way, until he reaches Stiles’ nipples. Flicking the tip of his tongue against the pink buds, before blowing air on them, the werewolf watches them tighten up. Stiles hisses and can’t help grinding his hips up. He can feel Derek’s erection bobbing in time with his movements and a steady drip of precome is trailed along Stiles’ thigh.

When he’s satisfied with the state of Stiles’ nipples - tight and sloppy wet from all the werewolf saliva - Derek kisses him lazily, licking into his mouth and Stiles groans in frustration at the slow progress. He wanted Derek’s dick in him yesterday! Reaching up and digging his fingers into the Alpha’s impressive back muscles, he tries to move things along, pulling Derek closer. They don’t get far though, before a dilemma presents itself. When the werewolf lowers himself onto Stiles it puts an uncomfortable pressure on his belly and he squirms, frowning. Derek lifts off immediately and looks down between them.

“Does it hurt?” the Alpha asks hesitantly. “Do we need to stop?”

Stiles whines in distress. He’s so freaking horny he could hump a mailbox. He needs to get some dick, preferably Derek’s, right the fuck now. He pushes up in the bed and turns onto his side, making grabby hands at his lover.

“Come here, Derek. From behind, okay?”

Derek moves up, fitting himself against Stiles’ back, winding his arms around Stiles’ middle, settling one hand on his abdomen, leaving the other to drift up and tweak a nipple. Stiles can feel Derek’s big cock leaking precome copiously against his buttocks. He wiggles back suggestively and hears Derek’s breath hitch.

“You gonna fuck me or what? I am so beyond ready here. Please, Derek, I want you to pound my ass so hard I can feel your dick in my throat!”

Derek groans behind him.

“Jesus Stiles, the stuff that comes out of you. Unbelievable!”

He grabs the base of his cock, lining it up and presses forward while shoving a knee between Stiles’ legs to spread them for better access. At first, there’s a little resistance, but when Derek pushes a little harder, the muscle gives and he starts to slide in. It’s a long, smooth glide and soon he’s balls deep. Derek mouths as Stiles’ neck and they are both panting and moaning while he starts up a slow, shallow thrusting.

Within minutes Derek manages to nail his lover’s prostate and Stiles cries out, flinging one hand up to brace himself against the headboard, using the other to grab at Derek’s ass, pulling him in deeper. The Alpha growls and picks up his speed, fucking harder into Stiles.

“God, you’re so tight, it’s like you’re still a virgin,” Derek pants. Stiles barks a laugh, but breaks off on a moan as Derek’s cock rakes over his sweet spot.

“Yeah, well, it is only my second time, you know. I’ve only been with you.”

Derek’s rhythm falters and his arms tighten around Stiles. A whine escapes him and he presses his cheek into Stiles’ back, muttering broken off sentences, so perfect, so hot and mine!

Stiles sighs happily and rolls his hips back, muttering, “Yours.”

The hand Derek’s got on Stiles’ belly reaches down and grabs his neglected erection, jerking him with intent to please. The werewolf is growling behind him and this is what Stiles loves the most; making Derek so crazy with lust that he tips over the edge of his iron control and just goes with his instincts, fucks Stiles hard, bites him, marks him. It doesn’t make sense, he should be afraid of an unrestrained, primal Derek, but he isn’t. It just makes his whole body roar with desire and he gets so turned on that he thinks every single thrust will make him explode.

He deliberately tips his head back, exposing his throat and moans long and loud, before demanding in a husky voice he hardly recognizes as his own, “Come on Derek, mark me! Show me I’m yours!”

Derek emits a sort of strangled noise, like he wants to so badly, but knows it’s risky when he’s this out of control. Stiles tightens his hand on the Alpha’s ass, kneading his firm cheek while turning his head a bit so his jugular is right in Derek’s face. Stiles knows he’s pushing his luck, but he can’t help himself.

Sharp teeth clamp down on his pulse point and Stiles honest to god whimpers, like it’s the best thing ever, which it might very well be in his opinion. He knows that Derek can’t turn anyone unless he bites with intent, so he isn’t worried about that. A warm trail of blood rolls down across his throat, not getting far before the werewolf’s tongue is there, licking it up and soothing the bite.

Derek’s hips are thrusting at a frantic pace, pounding Stiles who is stubbornly bracing himself back and licking his lips.

“God, Derek! You’re... ah... ridiculously good... at this. Fuck!”

Derek flicks his wrist on an upstroke on his mate’s cock, using his thumb to rub the head, smearing the precome. He growls in Stiles’ ear and nips at his earlobe. With his free hand he pinches a nipple, and when the sensation collides with a particularly good stroke and a thrust that hits his prostate, Stiles arches, cries out and spurts come all over Derek’s hand and his own belly.

Derek curses when Stiles’ shuddering body clamps down on him, making Stiles suddenly aware of a strange feeling. It’s like the base of Derek’s cock is slowly expanding, catching his rim on every thrust.

“Derek, what’s that?”

The Alpha grunts.

“Shit, it’s my knot. Don’t worry, I’ll pull out, Stiles,” Derek says and starts to pull back.

Stiles’ brain is rushing through all his knowledge of werewolves at lightening speed and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s happening. A rush of heady arousal hits him like a sledgehammer. He wants to take Derek’s knot! God, he wants it! He can feel his spent cock awakening once more.

He grabs at Derek’s ass and blurts out, “No! Don’t pull out. I... I want it.”

The Alpha freezes behind him.

“Stiles, are you sure? It gets big and I don’t know if you’re ready for that yet.”

Mewling, Stiles pushes back while attempting to pull Derek in.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. I want it. Knot me, Derek!”

Derek hesitates a few seconds before resuming his thrusting, whimpering every time the knot catches on Stiles’ rim. It must be really sensitive. Stiles grinds back, moaning, and suddenly Derek pushes in deep, so deep, and stills. His arms are gripping Stiles tight like a vice and the knot is swelling rapidly, causing Stiles to whimper and pant. His cock apparently isn’t scared off by the stretch and burn of it; it’s hard and throbbing again.

Derek is mouthing at Stiles’ neck, whining and making tiny gyrating motions with his hips. He’s muttering in a filthy tone, “Gonna breed you. Fill you up with my come until you can’t hold any more, until it feels like you’re gonna break! You will smell like my come for days.”

The knot is still swelling slightly and Stiles is just starting to worry that it will indeed be too much, it feels huge and the burn is just on the edge of real pain, when it finally stops and Derek takes a few harsh breaths and undulates his hips. It sort of feels like Stiles is being split down the middle, although it also feels really good. He wiggles a bit and moans when the knot tugs on his insides. Being locked together with a werewolf like this shouldn’t be so freaking hot, but it is. Stiles is about ready to combust. It’s so filthy awesome, even if it kinda hurts.

Trying to ease the pressure a little, he pushes his hips back against Derek’s pelvis and the motion makes the knot bump his prostate. It sends an almost electric current shooting up his spine and he jerks and yells, startling Derek.

“Stiles, are you alright?”

Stiles mewls pathetically and pushes back again.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, it’s all good. Please start moving right the fuck now!”

Derek growls, “So commanding!” but complies nonetheless. His movements are limited with his knot locked inside his lover, but he manages to stimulate Stiles’ sweet spot continuously and soon he’s cursing and begging all at once, while gripping the sheets in a death grip.

Derek whines and his hips falter. Stiles makes a frustrated noise in his throat, but the werewolf shushes him and asks, “Can we sit up?”

Stiles merely nods and Derek grabs his waist and levers them both up, so he is sitting back on his haunches with Stiles straddling his lap with his back to the Alpha’s chest. The new position gives Derek more leverage and he folds his arms under Stiles’ and curls them up to grab his lover’s shoulders, enabling him to pull Stiles down while rocking his hips up.

It’s heated and intensely intimate and Stiles can’t help but tip his head back to rest on Derek’s shoulder. The knot is grinding against his sweet spot and it feels incredible. It still burns a little, but the pleasure far outweighs the pain at this point. He twists his head to kiss Derek wetly; panting, open mouthed kisses.

Stiles’ erection bobs against his belly in time with their bodies’ rocking motions that has him humming appreciatively in his throat. Derek’s hands drift down, caressing Stiles’ stomach and he gives a hard push upwards, grunts, and starts to come. The combination of the feel of Derek petting his sensitive belly, their cubs, the first pulse of hot come searing his insides and the direct hit his prostate takes, has Stiles seeing stars for a second before he outright screams, his orgasm tearing out of him violently. His come shoots up in an arc, spattering on the wall above his headboard. It’s the most intense orgasm Stiles has ever had, and it’s the first and only time he’s ever come untouched as well.

Derek continues to come in pulses and it takes awhile for Stiles to notice that the werewolf’s teeth are once again fastened in the crook of his neck.

He can’t help a breathy laugh.

“Am I your new chew toy, Sourwolf?”

Derek growls and pumps his hips once. That’s all the answer Stiles gets.

Eventually Derek stops coming - there is a lot and he does indeed feel full to bursting -  but they are still locked together when the Alpha gently lowers them down onto their sides again. He pulls a blanket up and covers them before snuggling close and wrapping his arms protectively around Stiles, settling his head so his nose is tucked behind his lover’s ear.

Stiles looks up at the wall, decorated in cooling come and sighs, “What a mess.”

Derek hums and kisses the soft skin of Stiles’ neck.

“I’ll take care of it later.”

Shortly they are both starting to drift off, still locked together. Stiles feels complete now, with Derek there, content and happy, and he smiles into his pillow, muttering sleepily, “Thanks for being you, Sourwolf.”

He doesn’t see the corner of Derek’s mouth turning up.

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Stiles awakes with the feeling of being watched. He cracks open one eye and tries to locate the source. When his dad’s face swims into focus, looking less than pleased, Stiles yelps and twitches. The motion brings it to his attention that Derek’s knot is very much not deflated yet, and they are still tied together. Stiles thinks he should feel weird about being stuck to Derek like this, when it’s not during sexy times, but he is still too blissed out to care. Frankly, he’s not sure he would care even if that wasn’t the case. He always feels safe with Derek and all his instincts are screaming at him to be as close to the Alpha as possible, at all times. So, yeah, it doesn’t bother him.

It might bother his dad though, if his current expression is anything to go by.

“Dad?” he croaks, his voice hoarse from his earlier screaming.

Stiles feels Derek freeze and tense behind him, though he gives no outward sign that he has woken up.

His father clears his throat awkwardly and averts his eyes.

“Um, I kinda need your help downstairs, kid. Do you mind?”

Feeling himself blanch, Stiles desperately tries to find an excuse not to get out of bed, besides the obvious ‘not so good right now dad, you see, Derek’s dick is stuck in me so unless you want us both to crab walk down the stairs, naked and still joined together, I’m gonna stay put, thanks’.

When the sheriff raises an eyebrow, Stiles coughs and mumbles, “Sorry, I can’t, dad.”

His dad looks disgruntled and a little confused.

“Hey, I understand the need for a post-coital cuddle as well as any man, but I need your help Stiles and you can go right back upstairs afterwards. It won’t take long.”

Stiles can feel a blush of epic proportions coming on fast.

“No, dad, I mean I literally can’t!”

Cue the disappointed expression with a pinch of confusion thrown in.

“Excuse me?”

Why are there no lightnings available to strike him down when he fucking needs it? Why?

“Guh, uh dad, I never wanted to explain this to you okay, but werewolves... well... their anatomy have more in common with dogs than just the ears, fur and senses, if you know what I mean?”

Please, please, please let that be enough of an answer.

No, apparently he’s not that lucky, going by his dad’s now constipated expression. Stiles decides to just freaking jump into the deep end.

“Dad, I... werewolves have knots! Okay? So, I can’t get out of bed, or rather I really, really don’t want to right now.”

His dad is frozen, a look of dawning horror on his face.

“Knots? Like... like dogs have? When they’re breeding and can’t get away from... oh... oh! Oh my god! You’re...? Jesus, I don’t wanna know!”

The sheriff’s departure is a legend in the making. He’s out of the door, into the cruiser and tearing out of the driveway almost before Stiles’ bedroom door clicks closed behind him.

It takes a few moments for Stiles to realize that the trembling he can feel, is Derek holding back a laugh. Well, at least someone is not eternally scarred by that whole ordeal. Stiles huffs and jerks an elbow back, jamming it into the Alpha’s ribs.

“Fuck my life! Seriously.”

Derek’s laughter bursts forth, a rumbling belly laugh that warms Stiles’ heart. He can’t keep a smile off his face despite his best efforts.

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The next evening, Derek finds Stiles outside, where he is sitting wrapped in a thick blanket on the back porch.

“You alright?” he inquires.

Stiles turns to look at him, mouth pulling up into a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking. Never thought I’d be a dad before I turned twenty. It’s a little daunting when you think about it.”

Derek sighs and sits down beside Stiles, turning them both and manhandling Stiles until he is sitting between Derek’s legs with his back resting on the Alpha’s chest.

“I know,” Derek says. He is still waiting for his own big freak out, but so far nothing has happened. Logically he should be scared shitless, what with his family track record, but this whole thing sort of feels like he’s getting another chance at having a family and he really wants it. Granted, he’d thought it would be a slightly slower process, seeing as he’d only hoped to start dating Stiles when he got back, but yeah, no way he’s giving up on happiness when it’s served on a silver platter like this.

He closes his arms around Stiles’ middle and hugs him close, lowering his hands to feel the swell in his mate’s abdomen. It calls to him like the moon calls to his wolf, and the connection is just as powerful.

He bends and mouths at Stiles’ neck, kissing, licking and nibbling, before whispering in his mate’s ear, “You’ll be a great dad.”

Stiles snorts, but smiles.

“Yeah right!”

Derek squeezes him.

“Just look at the way you keep taking care of your own dad! You’ll do fine.”

In answer, Stiles leans further back and twists around to plant a kiss at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Thanks, Sourwolf.”

There is silence for a few moments before Stiles suddenly tenses.

“Oh god! What if they get my ADHD? Total horror scenario! ADHD teenage werewolves; ugh, they’d freaking kill us!” he groans.

Derek can’t help but bark a gravelly laugh.

Stiles huffs, “Yeah just you wait until you’re knee deep in diapers, juggling milk bottles and simultaneously trying to prevent them from climbing up the stairs, or eating the carpet. See if you laugh then, eh?”

Derek hides his smirk in the blanket while Stiles relaxes against him again.

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During the next couple of months, Stiles is impressed by the amount of attention and assistance - with any and all things - he receives from Derek. It’s like the man never sits still. If Stiles even looks too long at something, Derek will get it - or get rid of it, depending on how Stiles looks at it. If he as much as sighs, Derek will demand to know what’s wrong.

When Stiles gets bigger, Derek will not let him lift anything, not even his backpack, and if he sneaks away to get some peace and quiet, it will not be long before he spots one of the pack, coincidentally hanging out in the vicinity, ready to jump in if any opportunity presents itself.

In the end, when he gets so big he has to fight to see his feet, Stiles relents and lets the pack do everything, seeing as he has enough to deal with. His feet are aching and his back is creaking ominously. Stiles wishes his mother was still here, even just so he could apologize to her for having to carry him for nine months. His dad snorts in his coffee when Stiles reveals that tidbit. Afterwards they have a few quiet moments to reminisce and remember, and they talk about how Stiles’ mother would have loved to be there with her son through this.

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When Stiles and Derek are at Deaton’s for the thirty weeks check up, the vet has been reading up on male Alpha mate pregnancies and he once again tells Stiles how rare an occurrence it is. Derek squeezes his mate from behind and hums happily in his ear, placing a kiss on the back of his neck, when Stiles leans back into him.

After Deaton is done with checking the vitals of their cubs, Derek pats Stiles’ belly and turns to the vet.

“What about milk for the babies? What sort of formula should we get?”

Deaton looks puzzled for a moment and then he smiles, the smile that always makes Stiles’ skin break out in goosebumps.

“According to the information I’ve gathered, nature should take care of that by itself,” he says in his typical vague fashion. Stiles is willing to bet it means nothing good for him.

Derek is also frowning and when Deaton sees their expression, he beams.

“Well, Stiles will most likely produce milk enough for the babies himself.”

Total silence reigns for about a full minute. Derek looks kind of constipated and Stiles is sure he himself is paler than a ghost, his eyes big as saucers.

Eventually he manages to squeak, “I’m gonna what now?”

Deaton’s expression has not faltered at all and he still has a large smile on his face. Smug bastard.

“You should produce milk, Stiles. It’s not that difficult a concept, really.”

Stiles’ vision is getting blurry and he promptly shoves his head between his knees, or as close as he can get with his big, pregnant belly, and focuses on breathing. Derek is back at his side in less than two seconds and rubs his back soothingly.

When Stiles straightens up again he glares viciously at Deaton and stabs a finger in his direction, shrieking, “You didn’t think that’d be worth mentioning to me? ‘Oh, by the way Stiles, you’re gonna turn into a girl with big, giant boobs’?”

He can almost feel the eyeroll the vet is holding back.

“You are not turning into a girl, Stiles, and you are not going to grow breasts, you are simply going to produce milk. Of course there will be a visible change, but it’s not like you will suddenly change gender overnight. When you’re done nursing, you will go back to normal. No big deal.”

Stiles makes a valiant effort to intensify his glare.

“No big deal? Right. Right. No big deal. God, I need curly fries! Are we done for today doc?”

Deaton nods and Stiles lurches up and starts for the door as fast as he can manage. Derek somehow still makes it to the door first, to open it for Stiles.

He badgers Derek into getting a double serving of curly fries to munch on the way home.

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“That’s it! I’m going upstairs, and nobody follows me!” Stiles yells and wobbles to his feet, stomping up the stairs and into his room, banging the door shut behind him.

He is now only two weeks from his due date and he can admit to himself that yeah, he’s like huge, grande, massive, but he’s just had it with the jokes and the taunts and the jibes. Jackson has been tormenting him for the last week constantly. Stiles has been reasonably easy to deal with for a pregnant dude, but he cannot take another second of that. No thanks. So he and his cubs set up camp on the bed, where Stiles can fume in peace.

Since he had to give up on going to college when he got so big that the pitying looks he’d been getting when his belly had begun to swell, started morphing into incredulous, wide eyed gaping, he has nothing to do with his time. The pack was overprotective and would have raised a lot of suspicion if he’d attempted to continue going to classes anyway, so he’d had to pause his education and retake the course at a later time. No lessons to prepare for, no homework to do. He’s freaking bored.

Initially he had kind of hoped his father would put a foot down and give a lecture about the importance of college, but alas, he had sided with Derek and his merry gang of leeches, giving Stiles’ baby belly a protective hug and ambled off to discuss nursery color themes with Erica.

Just to punish them all, he had pouted the rest of the day, demanding Derek go all the way across town to get a special sort of chocolate ice cream with caramel and marshmallows. He knew nobody else liked it and planned on gobbling it all up on the couch, taking up as much space as possible.

He doesn’t remember dozing off, but he wakes up to a warm body plastered against his back, and when he emits an inquiring grunting noise, Derek’s hand sneaks around to grope his belly and a low voice mumbles from behind him.

“Hey. Is the pack driving you nuts?”

Stiles laces his fingers with Derek’s on his stomach and wiggles back to burrow himself further in the werewolf’s body heat.

“Nah, just Jackson being Jackson really. I've just... had enough.”

Derek hums in agreement and traces their fingers over the swell of Stiles’ belly in slow, circular motions. It’s probably meant to calm him down and soothe him, but before long the circles go a little too low for Stiles to remain calm. He tries squirming a little, since he’s quite sure that Derek isn’t trying for anything naughty, and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by popping a boner, but if Derek’s hand doesn’t stop wandering south there’s not much he can do. His hormones may have settled somewhat, but they’ve settled at a level where he can’t even watch Derek use a spoon - god, those lips! - without wanting to climb him like a fucking tree; he’s so horny.

Not that Derek’s been complaining. Nuh uh.

Stiles pulls their hands up and kisses Derek’s knuckles before placing the Alpha’s hand on top of the baby bump and pillows his own under his cheek. Derek’s hands stay in safe areas for a few minutes before they drop dangerously low again. Stiles figures two can play at this game and he groans deep, trying for a tone that will both seem like he’s just happy and cozy, and at the same time will make Derek think of... things.

When nothing happens, Stiles pushes his butt back, pressing it against Derek’s groin and sort of writhes slowly, while faking a stretch. For a second there is no reaction, but then he can feel Derek’s bulge start growing. Success! He grins smugly to himself and reaches back to grope Derek’s ass, kneading a buttcheek.

Derek heaves a huge, put upon sigh and grumbles, “You are insatiable! It’s all sex, sex, sex, and oh yeah, more sex.”

Stiles snorts happily and wiggles his ass again.

“Yeah, it feels like you’ll have to work so hard to get it up for me. I’m practically forcing you here. I feel bad for you, but hey, if you don’t want to, I can always go tell Isaac I crave a good fucking. He’s so determined to keep me and the cubs happy that he’d do me without question.”

Derek grips him tight and growls menacingly while biting down on Stiles’ neck. Derek is generous with most things, but he is highly possessive, and even though Stiles sometimes grumbles about it, he’s secretly very pleased with that fact.

Stiles slips his hand down between their bodies and slide his hand down to Derek’s cock, straining against the zipper in his jeans. When he squeezes slightly Derek moans and bucks his hips forward. Stiles is quick to undo the zipper and he shoves his hand into Derek’s pants while he pushes his own trousers down around his knees. He didn’t bother with underwear today and he hears a hitch in Derek’s breathing when he sees.

“Christ, Stiles. Are you trying to kill me?”

Stiles merely mewls and gives Derek’s erection a few tugs through his briefs. The Alpha takes the hint and within a few minutes they are both gloriously naked, with Derek rocking gently against Stiles’ ass. Hot breath ghosts across Stiles’ cheek and wet kisses are pressed behind Stiles’ ear, hitting that sensitive spot that drives him crazy every time.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, Stiles. Carrying my cubs. God, I swear I could almost come just from looking at you!”

Stiles whimpers. Derek is not a big talker, but sometimes when they’re having sex he loosens up and Stiles loves it. He freaking adores talkative Derek.

“Derek,” he whines, “I want you in me, wanna feel you deep inside. Come on.”

Derek kisses him behind the ear again, which actually makes Stiles’ dick jump, and proceeds to lick across his jugular, while grabbing the base of his own cock, rubbing the head over Stiles’ hole, smearing precome. While he rummages in the bedside table for the lube, he drags the head of his cock up Stiles’ perineum and back down, making his lover shudder and moan.

As soon as he’s slicked up, Derek presses against Stiles’ entrance, which yields easily. It’s well stretched seeing as they have sex quite often these days and Stiles rarely requires actual preparation anymore, though Derek sometimes does it just because he likes it. He seems to have a penchant for having his fingers in Stiles; and Stiles is not one to complain about something that brings him multiple and amazing orgasms.

Even though Derek’s feral tendencies died off quickly after he recovered from the initial shock of having a pregnant mate, he and Stiles still enjoy a good hard fuck; but tonight it’s slow and tender, their bodies staying almost completely flush together at all times. Derek is wrapped around Stiles as close as he can get, and the only part of him that leaves the skin on skin contact is his hips. The thrusting is slow, and deep, not pulling far out, but shoving in all the way each time.

“Holy shit, Derek. Ah! Feels so good,” Stiles mewls, arching his back as best he can, desperately clutching at Derek’s arms. The Alpha punches his hips forward hard and Stiles cries out, his toes curling from the intense stabs of pleasure that shoots through his body. A bead of sweat rolls down his back and Derek licks it up, leaving a wet trail of saliva on Stiles’ flushed skin.

Leaving one hand on Stiles’ swollen belly, Derek reaches up and rubs his mate’s nipple. The response is instantaneous. Stiles wails and his whole body convulses, almost shaking out of Derek’s embrace. Sensing victory, Derek pinches one nipple and curls himself around Stiles to get his mouth on the other, sucking and flicking his tongue. Stiles writhes like it’s too much and oh-my-god-don’t-ever-stop at the same time, and he actually starts sobbing, clawing at the sheets.

“Fuck, Derek, please! Please, please, please!” he gasps between heaving breaths, digging his nails into Derek’s ass cheek. The Alpha growls and shoves his hips deep while biting Stiles’ nipple. Stiles actually honest to god screams and comes all over his belly in thick pulses. Derek stills when his mate’s body clamps down on him and gentles him through his orgasm until his body stops shaking. The increased pressure triggers the werewolf’s knot and it expands within Stiles, making him whimper, interspersed with obscene moaning, until Derek simply has to move. He starts grinding his hips again, thrusting in quick, short jabs, while licking the sweat off Stiles’ skin. He loves the taste of it almost as much as Stiles’ come, which is far better than ice cream in his opinion. Stiles always shakes his head at that, but he is happy to entertain Derek’s kinks when it brings him some extra tongue action.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to reach his climax and he bites down on Stiles’ shoulder as he comes, locked deep inside. He stays there longer than it takes for his knot to go down, just enjoying the closeness, only moving when Stiles starts fidgeting because he’s starting to get uncomfortable with their position. He pulls out slowly and arranges Stiles’ pillows to his liking and kisses his mate’s temple softly.

Stiles wiggles into the sheets with a satisfied rumble and looks up at Derek, and then his eyes suddenly widen and he snickers. Derek raises an eyebrow in his typical ‘what’s the matter with you’ expression. Stiles is not intimidated.

“Dude, check out your ass. I actually did some damage there. Though, I blame the nipple sucking, those are freaking sensitive right now!”

Derek twists around to look at his posterior and finds five deep cuts already starting to heal. It stings a little when he pokes at them.

“Huh, well, shame I can’t keep them, I’d love to show Jackson just to see his face.”

Derek smirks evilly, making Stiles roll his eyes.

“He’d die from a heart attack and I don’t wanna explain that to Lydia, so I’m thinking no to that, Sourwolf. I’m tired and I wanna snuggle, so get on with the licking,” he slurs lazily.

Derek glares at him. He wants to of course, but Stiles is getting a little too good at bossing him around. Stiles makes an obviously fake innocent face and lifts his upper leg, exposing his puffy, pink pucker, where Derek’s come is slowly leaking out.

“What, you don’t wanna?” Stiles asks, blinking his big eyes at Derek, his so-not-innocent expression still firmly in place.

Derek growls and smacks his butt in retaliation, before diving in and shoving his tongue between Stiles’ cheeks, leaving a wide trail up his crack. Stiles’ breath hitches and he drops his head onto his pillow with a groan.

“You are an evil, evil wolf, you know that right?”

Derek doesn’t deign to answer, instead he presses his tongue to his mate’s entrance, licking up his own come. Stiles mumbles something about dirty, naughty werewolves and holy fucking pope on a pogostick. Derek can’t help but snort at that one, and proceeds to lick Stiles’ jizz off his taut belly skin. When he’s done he snuggles up to Stiles, tugs a blanket over them both and settles in with a content sigh.

Just when they are both drifting off, the cubs kick their good nights and Derek smiles into Stiles’ hair as his hand is moved around by his mate’s to feel all the movements.

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Stiles pouts when Derek tells him that he has to go settle a dispute with a rival pack just six days before his due date, but apparently when you have a pregnant mate, peaceful relations with neighbouring packs are vital, so he backs off gracefully. Or at least as gracefully as a Stiles is capable of. He gives Derek a kiss for good luck before retreating to the couch where he flips the tv on and steals all the pillows from the scattered pack members to get comfortable.

They’re in the middle of that Friends episode where Chandler is chasing after Joey’s girlfriend Kathy, tripping over garbage bags and running on the roof of cars to get across the street, when Stiles feels a sharp pain flare across his stomach and he gasps, doubling over. Within half a heartbeat there are five sets of golden glowing eyes fixed firmly on him from around the living room.

Scott launches half the length of the room in one go and makes grabby hands like he’s not sure where he’s allowed to touch Stiles.

“Are you alright? Is it... are they coming now?” he rushes out.

Stiles breathes slowly for a few moments before he gets up, hanging on to Scott for support.

“I dunno, dude, but that definitely felt like... something. Can someone call Deaton and ask him if we should head over or wait and see?”

Three wolves scurry for the phone at once, while Isaac and Scott stay plastered to Stiles’ sides.

Deaton asks them to come right away, even if Stiles isn’t actually going into labour, he thinks it’s prudent to get ready to deliver the cubs. If there’s gonna be trouble it’s better to get it done now. Stiles freaks a little about that, but on the way over to the vet’s it becomes quite clear that he is in fact having contractions. As the nail marks in Jackson’s arm can attest to.

They are all squished into Allison’s car and the werewolves are piled on top of each other with Erica on top, trying to call Derek without falling over, which proves difficult with the speed and the fact that Allison forces the car around the turns almost on two wheels.

Stiles hears Derek screeching over the phone - and oh is he going to torture the wolf with that later, but yeah, definitely later - and then Erica stabs the end call button frantically yelling over Stiles’ cursing, “Derek’s on his way!”

They arrive at the vet’s and the wolves pour out of the car, Scott pulling Stiles out and freaking carrying him inside, where Deaton waits, ready to do a caesarean.

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An hour later Derek blows into the clinic, almost wrenching the door off its hinges, yelling, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s peachy,” a sullen voice answers.

Jackson is in the waiting room, slumped in a chair with a cloth pressed to his face. Derek pauses to throw him a confused look, which Jackson answers with an ironic eyebrow and a muffled, “Apparently a Stilinski in labor completely loses his sense of humor. Who would have guessed?”

Derek gives him a dubious look and Jackson sighs and lowers the cloth, revealing an impressive bruise and a, most likely, broken nose. Derek’s jaw drops.

“Stiles did that?”

Jackson snorts, winces, and raises the cloth back to his face.

Derek shakes himself and looks around, expecting to see the rest of the pack nearby. None are in sight though.

“Where is he?”

Just then, Scott burst in from the back room a wild look on his face.

“Derek, come on, Stiles is asking for you! What took you so long?”

Derek throws him the stink eye.

“I drove like a maniac all the way here, it’s a miracle I wasn’t pulled over seventeen million times!”

Scott just grabs him and hauls him along.

“Whatever, that’s not important right now.”

As soon as Scott pushes the door open the smell of blood invades Derek’s nostrils and his stomach immediately clenches. It smells like there’s a lot of blood. Is Stiles okay? Are the cubs okay? His pulse quickens as he rushes forward. Scott settles a hand on his arm and mumbles quietly, “They’re fine. There were no complications, don’t worry.”

Then, Derek steps into the back room and is met with a veritable wall of cooing werewolves, huddled together around the table. Allison is standing on tip toes behind Isaac, trying to sneak a peek and Deaton is standing by the sink, washing his hands.

Derek shoves into the group and when nobody lets him through, he lets a low growl loose. Isaac and Erica jump and quickly step back to let Derek forward.

Stiles is half sitting, leaning back against a mound of pillows, cradling two small bundles in his arms. He smiles tiredly up at Derek, who is just soaking up the sight, his wolf literally vibrating with happiness inside him. Both bundles have two floppy, furry ears sticking up out of the towels they’re wrapped in.

“Hi,” Stiles murmurs, such love and pride shining from his eyes that Derek is almost floored. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his whole being is focused solely on the sight in front of him. He is sure his chest will burst from the pressure soon and he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry - in the good way - so he bites his lip to keep it in, and steps up even closer. He can hear a muted snuffling, sucking sound and realizes that the cubs are actually nursing. It’s kind of weird to see, but his wolf is rumbling approvingly, happy that their mate provides so well for their offspring.

The rest of the pack backs off, standing a respectful distance away to give them both a modicum of privacy, though no one leaves.

Derek reaches out a hand towards the smallest bundle and carefully pushes the towel slightly down. This cub is fairly dark, almost black, but with some intense reddish patches on the cheeks and on the muzzle. The other one, slightly bigger, seems to be a dirty brown color. Both are adorable though and Derek wants to hold them, but can’t make himself interrupt their meal, so he settles for pawing them gently.

Stiles grins at him, “They’re both girls. Good thing you’re such a terrifying sourwolf. When they start bringing dates home you can scare the shit out of those guys... or girls.”

Derek would normally snort and smack Stiles on the head for that, but since he just gave birth Derek’s gonna let this one slide. He’s got two daughters!

Deaton comes in from the front office and clears his throat. Derek hasn’t even noticed he left.

“I made a few calls and it appears that I was right, Stiles. They shifted because of the stress of the birth and they will shift back to human by themselves as soon as they feel safe in their surroundings. Just give them a little time.”

Stiles hums lazily, boosting the brown cub up a little. She clings stubbornly to her nipple and Stiles winces. Derek tries hard to look sympathetic, but he’s afraid he can only manage goofy happy and doe eyed right at the moment.

Deaton leaves the room with his tools and the sight reminds Derek of the fact that his mate has actually been through a surgery and he crowds Stiles, lifting the blanket off to peer underneath. There’s a neatly stitched up incision across his abdomen, but it doesn’t look too bad and Stiles doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. At least not yet. Perhaps enough of the anesthesia remains for him not to be able to feel much. Derek takes a good whiff in his mate’s direction and yeah, there’s still a vague trace of chemicals in the air.

The black cub lets go of Stiles’ nipple with a tiny pop and Derek can’t help but hold out his hands with a pleading look. Stiles smiles indulgently and lifts the cub and places her in Derek’s large hands. She wiggles and sniffles a bit before lifting her little muzzle and letting out a tenuous ‘aroooo’. Derek instantly melts, like, he’s sure he’s literally turning into a puddle of adoring goo.

Isaac is whimpering quietly in the background, also wanting to get up close to the new pack members. The others are shuffling a little but otherwise not trying to draw attention to themselves.

“I had a little time, you know, between screaming and cursing your ass, to think about names,” Stiles begins. He and Derek had adamantly refused to pick out names beforehand and the pack had been exasperated to the point of buying children’s name books and leaving them on Stiles’ bed as huge, obvious, though uneffective, hints. They both felt like they’d know once they were holding their cubs and that it would be pointless to discuss it prior to the birth.

Derek nods and nestles the black cub into his neck, his pulse seeming to calm her. She almost disappears completely in his big hands and he can’t stop petting her soft puppy fur.

Stiles reaches out and places a hand on Derek’s cheek, speaking softly, “I was thinking, if you’re okay with it, Laura for her,” he indicates the black pup nuzzling Derek’s throat, “And Luna for this one,” he finishes, patting the brown pup still suckling.

The breath hitches in his throat and Derek has to swallow hard several times before he can answer.

“I think that’s perfect,” he says, feeling overwhelmed. He’s sure his family would have loved it and he’s simultaneously so unbelievably happy and incredibly sad. His family should be here to experience this with him, but he’s lucky to have Stiles and their cubs, and even the pack. It’s all getting to be too much and when Stiles pulls him down onto the makeshift bed, leaning into him with their cubs cradled between them, it flows over, two single tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he says quietly, but fervently, voice slightly choked.

Stiles smiles and rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, kissing his collarbone gently.

“Laura and Luna Hale. Sounds good doesn’t it?”

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“What about Stilinski? Don’t you want them to have your name as well?”

Stiles shrugs as best he can without jostling the cubs.

“Nah, I’m thinking I’ll take your surname when I’m changing my first name to Stiles officially. Let my cousins deal with carrying on the Stilinski family name. It’ll spare our girls a lot of bullying, let me tell you.”

Derek laughs and hugs Stiles close. He never thought he’d get to have this. His own family. Someone like him doesn’t usually get a second chance, and honestly he hadn’t thought anybody would ever want to do this with him. Not that Stiles ever does as expected. Thank all the deities for that!

Stiles’ head pops up suddenly.

“Um, did anyone call my dad?”

Nobody answers. Stiles groans.

“Shit, he’s never gonna forgive me! Erica, you call him, he lets you get away with anything.”

Erica fishes the phone out of her pocket, looking exceedingly unimpressed, and dials the number while walking out to the office.

The black pup, Laura, whines pitifully, scrabbling around, nosing at Stiles’ belly. He lifts her up and settles her muzzle next to the available nipple. She latches on immediately and suckles happily. Derek can’t help the content rumble he emits at the sight and Stiles grins at him.

“You’re a weirdo, Sourwolf,” he smirks and then his tone gentles, “Love you.”

The truth of the statement is in his steady heartbeat and Derek presses a kiss to his mate’s lips.

“Love you too, Stiles.”

~ The End ~