Work Text:
The first thing Lydia sees when she steps through the door is a disgustingly colorful sign that says, “WELCOME TO THE WORLD, BABY MCARGENT.” It’s obviously Stiles’ doing. She figures Scott thought it was hilarious and decided to keep it, because Scott is still kind of an idiot sometimes (though he always means well).
“Hello?” she calls. “Anybody home?” She steps out of her heels and elbows Jackson to do the same. He rolls his eyes, but kicks off his shoes.
Allison’s head appears around the corner. “Oh, hi!” she says, her voice shooting up an octave. “Wow, you got here a lot faster than I thought you would.”
“That’s funny, because it took us a lot longer than we expected,” Jackson drawls, looking around at the house. “Nobody was there to pick us up, so we took a taxi.”
“Oh my God,” Allison says, her eyes going comically huge. “I am so sorry. I completely—it just slipped my mind. Scott was, I forgot to tell him—well. You’re here now. Maybe my ridiculously adorable child can make up for it.”
Lydia smiles tightly at her and says, “You look fantastic.”
“You’re so sweet,” Allison says. “It’s the breastfeeding. Oxytocin or something, right? It’s great.”
“And on that note, I’m going to find Scott,” Jackson says. He shrugs out of his suit coat and throws it on the coat rack.
Allison grins at Lydia and darts forward to hug her. “I’ve missed you. How’ve you been?”
She laughs, hugging Allison back. “The genetics world has been very slow lately. I’ve been thinking about getting back into pathology.” She smiles, a real smile this time, as she steps back. “But enough about me. How’s it going with the baby?”
“He’s a handful,” Allison sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. “He’s got Scott’s dimples and my stubbornness and let me tell you, the combination is deadly. That kid gets whatever he wants. I had to kick my dad out the other day because he tried giving him candy. Seriously. Tried to give a six month old baby candy, just because the kid wanted it.”
“Hmm. Jackson may want to hire this kid someday, if he has the power to bring Chris Argent to his knees,” Lydia says.
Grimacing, Allison grabs Lydia’s hand and leads her out of the entryway. “It’s awful. But wait until you see Scott. He’s the worst.”
They step into the living room just as the baby erupts in tears. Scott, who’s holding him, looks absolutely horrified.
Allison rushes forward, but Jackson gets there first. He gently takes the baby from Scott and starts walking in a circle, bouncing the baby.
After a few seconds, the baby—Jeffrey, Lydia thinks his name is—stops crying. He grabs onto Jackson’s ear and coos. It’s probably one of the cutest things Lydia has ever seen, and she hates that she can feel her heart constrict at that.
“Cute kid,” she says. “Jeffrey, right?”
“Well,” Allison says. “Scott is trying to make Jeffrey stick, but it’s actually his middle name. His real name is Simon.” Lydia gives her a confused look so she says, “A long time ago I told Scott he would never get to name our children and not only did he think I was joking, he thought I forgot. I let him pick the middle name, but he’s kind of refusing to call him by his real name. Because Scott is secretly a child.”
“How was I supposed to know you actually meant it?” Scott says, glaring at Jackson. “Okay, I’ll take him back now, give me my baby.” He holds his arms out.
Jeff—Simon is now exploring Jackson’s nose. It’s significantly less adorable, but still kind of cute. Jackson is making the most ridiculous faces at the baby, like this baby is the best thing on earth, and Scott looks pissed.
“Did he just displace me in my son’s affections?” Scott grumbles.
“Those are some mighty big words, McCall,” Jackson says, smirking.
“Wait, so what’s his last name?” Lydia asks.
“Argent-McCall,” Allison says. “We tried McCall-Argent but it was just too hard to say.”
“Not McArgent. Thank God,” Lydia says.
“Stiles tried really hard, but in the end, it just sounded too dumb.” Allison’s grin is cut short by a massive yawn. “Sorry. Simon doesn’t really have a normal sleep schedule yet, and last night was my night to get up. I hope you don’t mind, but we ordered takeout. Neither of us feels much like cooking lately.”
Jackson lifts the baby up to blow a raspberry on his belly. When the baby giggles, he keeps doing it until Scott’s face is probably stuck in a pinched up glare. “He’s great,” Jackson says as Simon kicks him in the solar plexus.
“Yeah, I know. He’s mine,” Scott says.
Allison gently smacks the back of Scott’s head and says, “Stop it. You wanna go wash up before the rest of the pack gets here?”
“No,” Scott says, frowning and eyeing Jackson suspiciously.
“That was my way of politely suggesting you go take a shower before you smother everybody with your eau de baby spit up,” Allison says. “Go.” She plants her hand between his shoulders and pushes. “Don’t make me make you.”
Scott raises one eyebrow. “Is that a promise?”
Jackson looks scandalized. “Scott. You can’t say things like that in front of your kid.”
“Oh, he’s fine, he can’t even understand words yet,” Scott says, flapping one hand at him. Then he points at Allison. “You. Me. Later.”
“Only if you shower,” she says, pushing him again.
By the time Scott’s out of the shower, the entire pack is crowded into the living room on the sectional. Lydia and Jackson are the last to meet the baby, but obviously the excitement of having a tiny soft werewolf baby around hasn’t worn off on anybody.
“Can I hold him pleaaaase,” Erica says, shuffling over on her knees to sit in front of Jackson. Jackson starts to hand the baby off, but the instant Erica touches him, Simon starts whining again.
“I can’t believe it,” Scott says. “He’s trained my baby to hate everybody except him.”
Jackson raises one eyebrow at him, but that one eyebrow speaks volumes. “I can’t help it your kid has good taste.”
The baby proves to be way more entertaining than even her most exciting Petri dish. When Jackson finally gets Simon to detach, he puts the kid on the floor, and Simon promptly crawls over to Derek, who just about passes out with delight. Derek coos. It should be horrifying because it’s Derek, Lydia thinks, she still isn’t used to him having (and displaying) real feelings, but it’s actually pretty adorable.
It’s pretty obvious that Stiles agrees but is trying really hard not to show it. He glares at Scott and says, “Thanks, now you’ve ruined him. Now I’ll have to find another, and I’ve put so much work into this one.”
Derek takes a break from letting Simon play with his face to glare at Stiles.
That doesn’t last very long though because Simon squeaks and Derek completely melts.
“This happens every time, Scott,” Stiles says. “Every time. Obviously we can’t be friends anymore because your baby is going to steal my boyfriend.”
“Hey, don’t try to pin this on me,” Scott says, raising his hands defensively. “This is a very easy problem to fix. You should just get one of your own and stop mooching off mine.”
“Oh my God can we get one,” Erica says, grabbing Stiles’ arm.
Isaac perks up. “That would be fun.”
Predictably, Boyd chooses not to comment. He shifts on the couch, looking a little perturbed.
“I actually meant just Stiles and Derek,” Scott says. “Or I guess the kid could just have—six parents?”
Stiles blinks at him. “Are you counting Peter?”
“Well, yeah, he still lives with you right?” Scott says.
“Stiles, that would be so cool,” Erica says. “Can you imagine having six parents? Living in a pack right from the beginning? That would be awesome. I want one. Stiles. Get us a baby.”
“I really don’t know why everybody is targeting me,” Stiles says. “It’s not like I am suddenly going to sprout a uterus.” Erica opens her mouth again and he throws a pillow at her. “This discussion is over. Go away.”
The pack quiets down and watches Derek bounce the baby on his knee. Simon has the best giggle Lydia has ever heard—all bubbly and bright. She thinks his laugh sounds like rainbows and kittens and perfect double helixes.
“At least we know who to go to for date night,” Allison says, grinning at Derek.
“Hey Derek, wanna take him home?” Scott says, obviously joking. Still, Derek looks kind of hopeful until Scott says, “I’m totally kidding, man, we’ve already decided we’re not farming him out to babysitters until he’s a little older and smart enough not to eat everything he sees.”
“Besides,” Jackson says, leaning back and slinging an arm around Lydia, “Derek doesn’t need any more kids.”
“I resent that,” Boyd says.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t talking about you,” Jackson says, grinning. “I meant the other three.”
Lydia can see the moment it sinks in for Stiles. “Hey! You suck,” he says, frowning adorably at Jackson. He never really mastered the angry face, she thinks.
“Yeah, seriously, that’s not fair,” Isaac says. “Everybody knows Stiles is the mom.”
Stiles turns his glare on Isaac, who is utterly unfazed. Lydia laughs, because she’s forgotten about this joke. She can tell Stiles hears it all the time, enough that he’s given up retaliating. “Stiles, isn’t Erica older than you?” she says.
“He’s not my biological mom,” Erica says, making a face like Lydia’s an idiot, which is actually really funny. “But besides my actual mom, he’s still the only person who’s ever bought me tampons. Not even this guy will do that,” she says, jerking her thumb back at Boyd, who sighs heavily and looks bored.
And Lydia’s completely forgotten that Erica and Boyd might kind of sort of be a thing now. God knows they danced around it for years. She has a feeling it’s not really official, maybe not even exclusive, but it’s a start.
“Can we not talk about—that,” Scott says, squirming.
“Honestly, Scott,” Lydia says. “You are a grown man. You are twenty-eight years old. With a wife and a child. You should probably be able to handle saying ‘tampon’ by now.”
“You would think,” Allison mutters.
Then the baby breaks out in a peal of laughter and squashes Derek’s face between his hands. Derek’s face practically splits in two with how wide he’s smiling. Everybody is pretty distracted.
--
Lydia and Jackson squeeze into the Camaro to go back to the Hale house. For some reason Derek, Stiles, and their kids (Lydia can’t help it, that’s totally how she thinks of them now) always pile into one car, which is probably fine usually, but the Camaro is really not made for seven people. So Lydia sits on Stiles’ lap in the passenger seat, and Jackson gets up close and personal with Isaac, who’s always been touchy-feely and is completely fine with it.
The house is nice. Messier than the last time she was there, but still nice. Messy in a lived in way, like a house with six people should be.
They sleep in Erica’s room. Erica, presumably, sleeps with Boyd, but neither of them really feels like asking.
Lydia stares up at the ceiling and says, “That was fun.”
“Yeah,” Jackson says, throwing an arm over her waist and pulling her in, arranging her so her cheek is on his shoulder.
“We should come back more often,” she says, burrowing in against his side.
“Sure.”
She sighs and reaches across him to turn off the light.
--
The next six days are more of the same, with Simon stubbornly clinging to Jackson or Derek or—once—Lydia (but after that she stops trying to hold him). Scott eventually gets over the injustice and Allison is completely thrilled that her baby loves her friends, and Erica keeps pestering Stiles about getting a baby. When he shuts that down for the tenth time, she switches the attack to Boyd, who gets this terrified, hunted look in his eyes. Lydia thinks it’s hilarious. She also thinks they would probably have really cute kids, but she knows enough not to say it.
On the last day, Scott and Allison bundle up Simon and strap him in between Jackson and Lydia in the backseat of their car. They drive to the airport and walk in, together.
“Come back any time,” Allison says. She hugs both of them tightly and grins. “Also I need you to understand that the instant Simon is old enough, I am probably going to periodically send him up to you guys for super awesome fun times with Aunt Lydia and Uncle Jackson.”
“So he’ll be old enough, like, when he’s two, right?” Scott says. He’s got Simon in a sling on his belly, and he pats the baby’s back. “And then we can have mega-dates, like weeklong dates?”
“Give,” Jackson says, reaching into the baby carrier and taking Simon. “You’re going to give the kid a complex. He’s going to think you don’t want him.”
“I keep telling you, I don’t have to worry about any complexes until after he starts talking,” Scott says. “And obviously I want him, I carry him on my stomach in public places.”
Allison rolls her eyes. “Actually that’s because we made an agreement that I would give birth to his child if he would carry the kid around for the first nine months of his life,” she says. “It actually has nothing to do with any feelings he may have for Simon.”
Jackson laughs and starts bouncing up and down with Simon, who giggles like Jackson is his favorite toy. “I knew it. McCall doesn’t have room for any feelings in that giant brain of his.”
“Hey,” Scott says. “There is plenty of room for feelings, okay?”
Patting his arm and making a face, Allison says, “We know, sweetie. Simmer down.”
“I hate to break this up,” Lydia says, glancing at her watch, “but we’d better get started on security checks and whatnot.” She smiles at Simon and bends down to kiss the top of his head. “We’ll come visit more, I promise.”
Allison and Scott both hug her, and when Scott holds his arms out for Simon, Jackson looks a little sad and smoothes his fingers over the baby’s fluffy hair before handing him over. “I never thought I’d say this, McCall, but you actually managed to do something right,” he says as he picks up his luggage.
“Thanks, man,” Scott drawls as he tucks Simon back into the sling. “Now you should probably go away before he realizes what’s going on and starts crying.”
They walk away, looking back over their shoulders.
Lydia doesn’t say anything to Jackson as they go through the checkpoints. While they’re waiting to board the plane, he touches her hand and she mutters, “Thanks” and leans into his side with her hip.
They fly first class. They always fly first class. Neither of them likes being crammed in with strangers, and they have the money, so why not.
Jackson hoists their carry-ons into the overhead bin and lets Lydia in to sit by the window because she likes being able to see out.
By the time he sits down, she’s already crying. He just puts his arm around her, tugging her in so she can hide her face in his shoulder. She knows her mascara will probably stain his shirt, but if he doesn’t care, she doesn’t either.
“I’ll call the agency when we get back,” he says, “I’ll see if they can move us up the list, maybe they can meet with us again.”
Lydia sniffles and scoots over a bit so she can rest her forehead against his neck. “I’ll—I’ll stay in genetics. They—might not be so impressed with pathology. What with all the—deadly contagions.”
He huffs out a laugh and says, “No. Probably not.”
When the plane finally takes off, Lydia says, “What if they don’t like us?”
“They like us,” he says. “We’re rich, stable, and healthy. What’s not to like?”
“No, I—the baby.”
He snorts. “Well. I really don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Oh, right, I’m married to Jackson Whittemore, baby-whisperer.” She sits up a bit so she can still lean on him but also see out the window. “They did like us, didn’t they.”
“Of course they did. I bet they’d never met anyone before who preemptively baby-proofed the house.” He grins and twines their fingers together.
“Yes, well,” Lydia says primly. “If you want something badly enough.”
She gets out her compact, fixes her makeup. Pulls the Tide pen out of her pocket and goes to work on Jackson’s shirt, because Lydia Whittemore is nothing if not thorough.