“Oomph,” Stiles grunted.
There was a giggle.
“Go away,” he mumbled into his pillow.
There was another giggle. “Pancake, Daddy!”
“Sleep. Daddy wants sleep.”
“Go bother Papa Wolf.” And then he stretched out his arm. Wait . Where was his husband? “Wha? Where’s Derek?”
There was another giggle.
Stiles tried to turn over onto his back but was blocked by his two-year-old daughter - werewolf strength included. At least with her sitting on his back and weighing him down. He grunted, took a deep breath, and managed to twist and get her off him and onto the bed directly.
There was that giggle again.
Stiles finally turned over. “I smell coffee.” He reached out and mimed a gimme motion as he opened one eye.
And then saw his husband leaning against the door. Derek was carrying a large tray with coffee, a sippy cup, pancakes, syrup, and fruit.
“Hi,” Stiles smiled and sat up.
Derek, smirking, pushed off the doorway and walked over to the bed. As he settled the tray stand over Stiles’s legs, Derek leaned over and kissed his husband in greeting.
“You can’t sleep in when you’re a parent,” he said against Stiles’s lips.
“Doesn’t mean you have to wake me,” Stiles replied and grabbed the coffee cup. Burning hot, he sighed in happiness.
Another giggle joined them as their daughter scooted over to Stiles, grabbing her juice.
Coffee and a toddler in bed. Just the way he liked it. (And the husband could stay, too. If only he would join them in the bed.)