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Lunches, Knitting and Definitely Not Dating

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Stiles hops on a plane to Beacon Hills the second he realizes he’s going to be alone for this whole pregnancy thing. It’s not like he’d expected the father to propose or something, but he’d expected a little more than Tad’s noncommittal shrug and “I don’t wanna be a Dad. Keep it, get rid of it, whatever you want, but I’m not having anything to do with the thing.”


And well, Stiles hadn’t cried, but it’d been a near thing with all the hormones that were currently fucking with his head. He had, however, screamed for a solid few minutes at his as of right then ex-boyfriend about how he was a deadbeat and an asshole as he shoved his shit into a bag before he stormed out with the sort of righteous fury that made his throat burn and his eyes sting.


It sucks, it fucking sucks. He’s not sure how else to describe it, because he doesn’t have words to describe how shitty it feels to know he got knocked up and now has to do it all alone. So he decides not to. He puts a small dent in his savings account to buy a plane ticket and he goes home to his Dad, because yeah, the guy is going to mumble about Stiles always getting in over his head with something, but he’ll also hug Stiles and come with him to his doctor’s appointments and god, Stiles just kind of needs someone right then.


He doesn’t warn his Dad he’s coming home, just takes a cab from Beacon Hills Airport to his house and lets himself in with his key when he realizes his Dad isn’t home from work yet. It’s not hard to face plant into his bed and pass out either, at least once he rolls onto his back so that he stops worrying about squashing his new passenger. He’s pretty sure he can’t crush a fetus, but it feels better to not take the chance right then.


He wakes up hours later to his Dad shaking his arm, expression a combination of concerned, confused and fond that he’s been using on Stiles since his Mom died. “Kid, aren’t you supposed to be across the country? You know, at school, doing that fancy graduate program of yours so you can put me in a nice retirement home one day.”


Stiles grunts, wiggling onto his side to try and bury his face into his pillow. “I’m taking some time off.” He mumbles, the words barely understandable through the fabric.


“Care to tell your dear old dad why?”


“Not really.” Stiles says, lifting his head to look at his Dad finally. “Not yet. Can we eat first?” Stiles asks, because he’s hungry and he’d really like to eat before he sees his Dad’s judgmental expression.



An hour later Stiles is stuffed with curly fries and feeling a lot more okay about his life. His panic and anger have more or less faded in the face of fried foods and his Dad, and he feels comfortable enough to stretch across the couch and pat at his stomach, pairing the motions with “So, I uh, managed to get myself pregnant.”


“You what?!”


“Got myself pregnant. Y’know, up the duff, knocked up, a bun in the oven, in a family way, eating for two, with child. I could go on Dad, really, stop me before I exhaust the list of pregnancy euphemisms. There’s still caught an 18 year STD, my eggo is preggo, building a person-“




“Hosting a parasite, harboring a fugitive-“


“Stiles!” Stiles cuts off, snapping his mouth shut and glancing around the room, calculating his chances for escape. They are depressingly slim. “I know what pregnant is, kid. Just- How?”


“Well Dad, when an omega and a beta or alpha are into each other and share a bottle of tequila together one thing can lead to another-“


“Stiles, I know how babies are made. I mean how as in didn’t you use protection? I know God didn’t give you the good sense he gave a goat, but I’m pretty sure we had the talk.”


“Condoms aren’t 100% effective!” Stiles protests, because they used a condom okay? Stiles had been pretty adamant that he wasn’t some omega who was going to be bred and mated before they were even in their 20s. He was getting an education, he was making something of himself. Condoms were a requirement for anyone to get their dick in Stiles’ ass.


“What about the suppressants? Aren’t they supposed to keep this from happening?”


“That uh, that would be true if I was taking them.” Stiles mumbles, just loud enough for his Dad to make out and yeah, there’s the judgmental face he was expecting.




“They fuck with my Adderall Dad, and it’s not like suppressants are even needed. They just make some shit easier,” like resisting the urge to hop on an Alpha’s knot, but Stiles has been doing pretty good at resisting that urge without them, “And they make a lot of other stuff harder, like my ADHD and the side effects are kind of awful? They suck Dad, so I stopped taking them when I started at Harvard because I kinda needed to focus there.” His voice wavers more than he wants it to with his words because he might be a 23 year old man, but he’s still nervous as hell about his Dad’s reaction.


“Kid, I’m not mad.” His Dad says like he read Stiles’ mind. Maybe he did, Stiles has always had his suspicions that the Sheriff is telepathic. “What’s your plan here? I’m sure you spent the entire flight here making one.”


Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, because this is his Dad accepting this and it makes the knot in his stomach release. “My plan right now is to just get through the pregnancy to be honest. I’m keeping the kid.” He says the last part quickly, knowing that would be his Dad’s next question, and that the man probably wouldn’t judge if Stiles didn’t want to, but he does. “The other father doesn’t want anything to do with them, so there’s that. On the bright side, that means I get to do this however I want. And I think, I think I’m gonna take a year off school? To get through the pregnancy and spend a couple months with the kid before I go back. I want to finish though, just maybe somewhere closer to home.”


“Sounds like a good one so far. You seen a doctor yet?”


“Just the one who confirmed I was pregnant.”


“We’ll get you in then, and we’ll get the spare room fixed up as a nursery. Never knew what to do with that thing anyway, might be good to give it a use other than holding all the junk we don’t use anymore. We’ll get you some vitamins too, start writing a list.”


And just like that, Stiles feels like everything might be okay.




It takes roughly a month for his Dad to break and get sick of Stiles rearranging his house constantly because of his sheer boredom. Stiles can’t really help it okay? He has nothing to do in Beacon Hills, not with Scott working and Lydia at MIT. So naturally, Stiles channels his energies into reorganizing the entire Stilinski house.


After the third time that his Dad can’t find anything after a Stiles reorg fest he insists Stiles do something. He doesn’t care if it’s a job, or volunteer work or a fucking knitting class, he just needs Stiles to do something that isn’t making sure John can’t find his ice cream scoop when he needs it or visiting the police department and trying to snoop.


He makes offended noises about the knitting class thing, but he also signs up for a bunch of classes to fill his time. Mostly it’s pregnancy classes at the hospital, everything from Baby Care For Beginners to Childbirth Preparation(there’s like six different courses. Stiles signs up for them all) to Infant CPR. He also finds a yoga studio with prenatal yoga, and despite himself and his offended noises, he joins a knitting class at the library.


He ends up liking it, it keeps his hands busy and he’s got more than half a baby blanket done for his little peanut by the time he’s hit his second trimester.


He still bugs his Dad, of course, because what kind of son would he be if he didn’t? But for the most part he just drags his yarn or his parenting books over to the sheriff’s department and sits in the comfiest chair he can find and waits for his Dad to get off so he can take Stiles back home. Sometimes he brings dinner, sometimes he bugs the deputies, and a lot of the time he perches himself on Deputy Hale’s desk and makes the surly deputy with his awful eyebrows answer his insane questions. He has a routine. His doctor said at his last checkup that that’s a good thing, though Stiles thinks she didn’t really realize all the irritating of other people that Stiles’ routine entailed.


“So, the blue or the purple?” He asks, holding up two skeins of yarn.


Deputy Hale, to Stiles’ utter surprise actually reaches out to feel both types of yarn and asks “It’s for the baby right?” making a sort of sweeping gesture towards Stiles’ stomach.


“Yeah, it’s for the little peanut.” He answers, patting at his stomach where it’s just now starting to become noticeably something that can’t be easily mistaken for a little bit of extra chub.


“The purple then, it’s softer.” Deputy Hale says before turning his attention away from Stiles and back to his paperwork. 




Stiles is bored. Stiles is bored and hungry and craving pickles like fucking crazy and his Dad is an evil, evil man who locked the door to his office. Which leaves Deputy Hale. Technically it leaves Deputy Hale and Deputy Parrish, but really, Stiles knows who he has a better chance of getting to take him to lunch. Deputy Hale might seem surly, but he’s way more sympathetic to Stiles’ plight than Deputy Parrish.


Also, he’s an alpha as opposed to Deputy Parrish being a beta. Stiles is not ashamed to play into the alpha desire to take care of an omega when it comes to his quest for pickles, okay?


“Deputy Hale. Deputy Derek. Deputy Derek Hale.” He says, voice melodic and practically singing the words.


“It doesn’t matter how many ways you say my name, I’m not taking you to lunch.” Deputy Hale says, not even looking at Stiles and keeping his gaze on his paperwork.


“C’moooon, Deputy, I’m hungry. I need pickles. I need ice cream. I’m desperate. I need to feed my little peanut, he’s craving pickles and a sundae from Moe’s.” He pleads, batting his eyelashes at Derek.


“I know what you’re doing.” Derek says, his eyes flicking up towards Stiles, though he has his head bent down towards his papers.


“What am I doing?” Stiles asks, widening his eyes in his best innocent expression.


“Trying to use my instincts against me to get what you want. It’s pretty unethical.” Derek says, sounding a lot less miffed about it than Stiles assumes most alphas would be once they clued into the fact. It’s not exactly uncommon, but Stiles has always figured that turnabout is fair play. Omegas have spent generations obeying alphas because they know how to tap into the omega instinct to please.


“Nah, trying to play into your instincts would be referring to you as alpha every other word and flashing my eyes at you. Or drawing serious attention to the bump rather than just mentioning the peanut. This is just standard Stiles begging right here. If you happen to be an alpha and want to feed me cause my omega-ness churns some weird desire in you to protect and feed or whatever, than I’m just picking who I ask wisely.” Stiles says, or really, rambles, flailing his hands as he speaks and occasionally dropping them to rub at his stomach. “Plus I am really hungry and I caught a ride here with Dad, so I don’t exactly have a method of transportation to get my own food.”


Derek huffs one of the more put upon sighs Stiles has seen, but he also pushes to his feet and holds out his hands to help Stiles up as well. “Fine, I’ll take you to lunch.” He says, and Stiles would feel a little like he had just manipulated the dude if he wasn’t smirking.


“Aw man, that’s like a half smile right there. I got half a smile. Score one for Team Stilinski! I’m gonna get a full one out of you before this kid is born, Grumpy Gus.” Stiles prattles as Derek leads him to the cruiser.


“Aren’t omegas supposed to be sweet and soft spoken or something?”


“That’s a stereotype, and stereotypes aren’t very nice Deputy Derek Hale.” Stiles jabs a finger at Derek with his words, lips curling up slightly.


Derek just rolls his eyes at Stiles and Stiles grins.



Moe’s is a classic little hole in the wall diner, mostly frequented by regulars and staffed by more or less the same people that have always worked there. Stiles has been eating there since he was a kid, and he always relaxes a little at the sight of the familiar place with it’s booths with their chipped plastic seats and wobbly tables.


He loves the place.


He beelines to his favorite booth the second they get there, Derek following after him at a slightly more sedated pace and watching Stiles with an amused expression as he flops down into his side of the booth.


Everything goes fairly quickly once they’re settled into their booth and in no time at all Stiles is digging into his food, an open face meatloaf sandwich with extra gravy and three pickle spears on the side. It’s pretty much heaven.


“So, where’s the other father?” Derek asks after awhile and really, Stiles is kind of surprised no one has asked this question since he got back into town. Small towns tend to mean insufferably curious people, and while Beacon Hills isn’t the smallest town, it’s still not huge.


“Not around.” Stiles says, shrugging as he drags a french fry through gravy and pops it in his mouth. “He didn’t want the kid, I did. Simple as that.” Not simple as that, but Stiles had never expected Tad to be a forever deal, so he tries not to get too torn up about it. He hasn’t really given himself time to be, to be honest. He very determinedly keeps his focus on everything he needs to do for his little peanut instead of thinking about the fact that he has to do all of it alone.


“Simple as that, huh?” Derek questions, looking like he doesn’t quite believe Stiles.


“Yep. Simple as that.” Stiles replies, leaning over to steal Derek’s tomato off his plate. He expects Derek to push it, but he doesn’t, and they settle into a companionable silence while they eat, only occasionally interrupted with idle conversation.




After that, Thursday at the diner with Derek becomes a thing. Derek starts taking his lunch while Stiles is around, and asking “you coming?” as he heads out of the police department and well, Stiles can’t resist free lunch. Because of course Derek is some weird gentlemanly type and pays for Stiles. It’s kind of awesome.


It becomes normal though, and Stiles gets used to it, slots it into his routine right along with his pre-natal yoga and usual check ups. Half the time they just sit, more or less silent and on their phones as they eat but sometimes they have actual conversations. They talk about everything from Stiles’ Dad (“Did you know his name’s not really John?” “What? It’s not?” “Nope.” “What is it then?” “Now that would be telling, I can say it’s Polish as fuck though and you’ve got no chance in hell of guessing it.”) to the baby (“You know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” “Nah, I think I’m gonna let it be a surprise.”) to college majors (“How the hell does a history major become a cop?” “I kinda fell into it.” “…How do you fall into being a cop?” “You just do.”) and it’s easy. Talking to Derek is surprisingly easy.


When he thinks about it though, everything is a lot easier than he’d expected it to be. Yeah, it’s still stressful and Stiles still has raging hormones and awful pregnancy symptoms and some nearly crippling self doubt about his ability to actually raise a child. But really, all of that pops up a lot less than he’d expect it to and mostly he just lives his life. He moves on from knitting the baby blanket to knitting them tiny hats and booties, and takes a natural child birthing class that cements his decision to in no way go without drugs for labor and time passes.


Life goes on, and Stiles goes right along with it. Before he knows it he’s at and then past 40 weeks and entirely ready to pop his kid out.


His kid seems to have the opposite goal, still pretty okay to stay inside Stiles at 5 days past his due date. Stiles is more than a little miffed. It’s goddamn September and it’s been over 100 in California for two weeks straight and Stiles is just done. He’s been trying everything that’s supposed to induce labor and so far it’s not working. He’s way too nervous to try castor oil, but he’s eaten so much spicy food that he’s pretty sure he’s going to die of capsaicin overload and he’s done so much exercise he thinks he might have burned off the calories he gained eating for two during the pregnancy.


“Man, that’s the only real downside to the lack of mate thing. I bet if someone fucked me it’d start labor.” He says, spinning around idly in Derek’s chair. He’s taken to stealing it lately, and Derek has taken to not complaining about Stiles stealing it. Overall it’s a working arrangement.


Derek nearly chokes and Stiles frowns, leaning forward to pat at his back. “You okay man? Don’t die on me here. Dad might be bummed to lose a decent deputy.” He says and Derek waves him off.


“I’m not dying, Jesus. Don’t you have a lamaze class or something to be at?”


“No.” Stiles huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, above the fucking beach ball that is his stomach now. “Lamaze class ended, because as I’ve said about twelve dozen times over the past five days, this kid was supposed to be born already.” He’s grumpy. He is absolutely grumpy and he doesn’t care how bitchy he sounds lately, he just wants this little asshole out of him.


“Want me to get you a milkshake?” Derek asks, sounding vaguely irritated but also like he’s dealing with a skittish animal that he needs to ply with treats. Stiles would be irritated by the tone, but a milkshake sounds fucking fantastic in this heat.


“Yeah. Chocolate dipped strawberry.” He says, trying for a smile. He’s not sure how well he succeeds, but Derek seems to accept it and leaves to get him his milkshake.


Halfway through the milkshake his water breaks, and it’s three contractions in that he takes back everything he ever said about wanting the kid out. He’ll carry the kid around for the next 80 years if it means not experiencing this level of pain.


“Fuck fuck fuck this fucking hurts oh my god!” He yells with a contraction, glaring at the doctor as they check the rudimentary birth canal his body developed in preparation for this for dilation. “I need somebody’s hand to squeeze.” He whines and flashes a tight, pained smile when his Dad takes one of his hands.


Derek is in the room, and he’s still not entirely sure why, but he’s in too much pain to question too much. It’s not like there’s not at least 3 cops in the waiting room right now anyways, having tagged along from the station, and Parrish is in the hall outside his room calling Lydia and Scott to let them know that the baby is coming. This kid is going to be welcomed into the world by half the force.


His labor lasts for 21 hours and Stiles is ready to just take a nice long nap and never wake up again by the time it’s over, but then his kid’s screams are piercing the air and suddenly he’s just… not tired. He’s wide awake and looking desperately at the nurse with his baby, cleaning them off and sucking fluid out of their nose. He knows, he does that this is normal, but he wants his kid in his arms right now so that he can make sure they’re okay himself.


And then suddenly the little bundle that is the next generation of Stilinski is being settled into his arms with a soft “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” and Stiles is fucking melting. He’s still exhausted, but all that irritation he’d felt before has faded, leaving nothing but love, so much love that his heart feels ten times too big.


“Oh my god, you’re perfect. Look at you, Daddy’s little girl is the most perfect baby to ever baby. God, I knew you were gonna be cute, but you’re already way cuter than all the other babies, aren’t you my little peanut?” He babbles, pressing his face into the top of her head and holding her close. “I’m so glad you’re here, so glad kiddo.”




Stiles gets to take her home the next day, snaps a picture of her in her bassinet and sends it to Tad with “Nadzieja Claudia Stilinski. I know you don’t want anything to do with her, but I figured you should at least have a picture of the kid who has half your genetic material. Thank god she doesn’t look a thing like you.”


He knows his ex will cringe at the name, doesn’t tell him that he has no plan of actually calling her by it because he figures he gave up the right to know nicknames. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even deserve the picture, but Stiles is feeling generous, exceedingly happy at the sight of his kid.


“Just you and me now, huh Jay?” He asks, scooping her up into his arms and snuggling her close, a hand cradling her delicate head close to his own as he crosses his eyes to look at her. He was right when he said she doesn’t look like his ex. The more Stiles looks at her, the more he realizes how much she looks like a carbon copy of himself when he was a baby, and he can’t help but be thankful for it.


He just hopes she has an easier time growing into her looks than Stiles did.


“C’mon, let’s get you a bottle. Food for JayJay, and then we’ll rest a bit? Just me and you until Grandpa gets off work.” He says, keeping his voice pitched soft as he talks to her, rocking back and forth a little without thinking about it.


He’s just got the bottle ready, Jay in her bouncy chair and looking incredibly too small in it while he gets it ready when the door knocks and ruins the just you and I part of the day. Though really, Stiles doesn’t mind when he sees that it’s Derek at the door. Derek who’d had to go fill in for Stiles’ Dad for the last half of Stiles’ labor and therefore missed Jay’s grand entrance into the world, and hasn’t seen her yet.


“C’mon, c’mon in man, come get a look at the cutest kid the world has ever seen.” He says, gesturing for Derek to come in and going to scoop Jay back up into his arms. “Derek, meet Nadzieja Stilinski, Jaybird, meet Deputy Derek. He kept me in milkshakes while you were beating the shit out my ribs.” He says the last part to his daughter, lifts her teeny tiny hand to make it wave at Derek.


“That’s Polish, isn’t it? You gave her a Polish name.” Derek says, eyebrows flat as he looks at Stiles. “You don’t even like your own name. Won’t even tell me what it is because it’s that awful and you go and name your daughter Nadzieja?” Derek asks, shaking his head at Stiles and Stiles would think he was irritated if he hasn’t spent a ridiculous amount of time bugging the man over the past few months, instead he knows it’s fondly exasperated. It’s an expression that’s similar to the one his Dad frequently has when dealing with Stiles.


“She should be in touch with her roots. Besides, I’m calling her Jay anyways. You don’t get to judge either, your sisters are Cora and Laura. Their names rhyme. And Cora told me you’ve named every pet you ever had after Disney characters. That’s another point for not judging.” He says, shaking his head at Derek before peering down at Jay. “Yeah, Deputy Derek is silly, huh? Thinking your name is weird when it’s perfect.” Jay doesn’t react in any way but to blink up at Stiles, but Stiles still ducks his head and nuzzles her cheek with a bright smile.


“I guess it does follow your family’s weird tradition of giving someone a name and then them never using it.” Derek says finally.


“Yep. Now stop hovering in my doorway and make yourself comfortable, I gotta feed this little one right here and then tell you all the glorious details of my labor that you missed.” Stiles says cheerfully, heading into the living room and plopping down on the couch to feed Jay her bottle.


Derek rolls his eyes but follows and for some reason, Stiles counts it as a win.




“I can’t believe you procreated with someone named Tad.” Derek says one day, when Jay is nearly two months old and Stiles is rambling at her about how he’s so proud that she’s so smart and she’s so lucky she inherited nothing from her sperm donor. Which is only half true. Stiles thinks she might have Tad’s dimples and chin, but that’s not an awful thing. Dimples are fucking adorable and Stiles has never been too fond of his chin.


“I was still in undergrad when we started dating. Everyone makes shitty choices in undergrad. Besides, it’s not like I planned to procreate with him. Hell, when we started dating I didn’t even plan to date him that long.” Stiles says, shrugging and passing Jay over to Derek so Stiles can fix her a bottle when she starts rooting, trying to nuzzle into Stiles’ chest like she’ll find something there.


There’s not, thank god. Some omegas develop breasts during their pregnancies, but it’s not guaranteed and Stiles thankfully hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine the level of body horror that would have involved if he’d had to look into the mirror and see himself with tits.


“I went to college too and never dated anyone named Tad.” Derek says, pitching his voice loud enough that Stiles can hear him in the kitchen as he heats up the bottle and tests it on his wrist.


“You also wasted a ton of money on a history degree. You’re lucky you’re a cop and not flipping burgers.” Stiles half shouts from the kitchen before heading back to the living room where Derek is sitting with Jay, bouncing her slightly because everyone learned pretty quickly that movement seems to settle her.


Stiles worries already she’s going to be like him, never able to sit still and with a brain that never stops. He knows it’s too early to know how she’ll turn out, but still, he worries.


He makes grabby hands for his baby and Derek passes her over. He even wiggles her feet as Stiles settles her into his arms and holds the bottle to her mouth. Stiles is always amazed that the grumpy deputy turns into a legitimate person when faced with the cuteness that is his kid.


“I’m glad I did.”


“Glad you did what?”


“Glad I dated him. I mean, if I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have Jay. Tad was a total dick, and the longer I spend not dating him the more I wonder why the hell I ever thought it was a good idea in the first place, but I wouldn’t ever take it back, not knowing what I got out of it.”


“She is pretty amazing.” Derek agrees, and Stiles flashes a beaming smile at him, watches him as he watches Jay.


“She is. I knew you only hung around to see her amazingness.” He says lightly, shifting Jay once she’s done drinking so that she’s leaning upright against his chest, one hand over her head and the other over her bottom.


“Oh yeah, she’s definitely all I come around for.” Derek deadpans and Stiles barks out a laugh, kicks at Derek’s shins and rolls his eyes when he doesn’t even flinch.




Time passes before Stiles knows it and Jay starts babbling, forming little ‘ma’ and ‘pa’ and ‘ba’ sounds and looking pleased with herself when Stiles repeats them back.


And then she just never stops. She talks as much as Stiles does. Stiles is thrilled.


He totes her into the sheriff’s department a couple days after it starts, once he’s sure this is a thing that’s continuing and not just a fluke. He’s got her strapped to his chest with the baby wrap and she’s alert, hands wrapped around the collar of Stiles’ shirt as he strides into the office.


He makes a beeline for Derek’s desk, because his Dad has already seen the babbling, so really the most important person who needs to see this that’s at the department is Derek.


“Deputy Derek Hale! Check this kid out.” He says proudly, poking at Jay’s sides as she starts up her babbling again, little ‘ba’s and ‘pa’s that Stiles swears means something to her.


Derek, for his part, looks as enthused as Stiles does and he comes around Stiles’ side until he can hook his chin over his shoulder and look at the little girl. He smiles, a smile that Stiles has only seen directed at his little girl, and reaches around to tickle her under her chin before he smooths a hand over her head.


“Look at you, already talking a mile a minute like your Daddy.” Derek says, sounding exceedingly fond, and Stiles would make fun of him for how gone he is for someone else’s kid, but it does something to his heart when he gets to see this.


“BA!” Jay shrieks, smacking her hands into Derek’s face and Stiles’ can’t help his laugh, especially when Derek just smiles and lets Jay shove her hand into his mouth.




Stiles doesn’t even notice when Derek stops knocking and starts just walking into the Stilinski house like he owns the place. It just becomes expected, somehow, because half the time Stiles is too busy with Jay to get the door and a good portion of the time Derek’s bringing over something that Stiles texted him saying he needed.


His Dad keeps giving him these weird confused looks, like he knows something’s going on but he hasn’t figured out the specifics of it all and Stiles keeps ignoring them.


The normalcy of Derek just finding himself in Stiles’ home is why Stiles doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he hears the door open, just shouts a quick “Come see this!” and goes back to watching Jay plant her hands on the couch and pull herself up to standing. She wobbles back and forth before plopping back down onto her bottom and laughing.


Stiles had expected great big tears the first time it’d happened, to be honest, had rushed over with his hands outstretched and ready to pick up his little girl to comfort her from the fall. Instead he’d been met with giggles and a gummy grin. He breathes easier every time she plops back down now, though he’s still close by, sat cross-legged on the floor, close enough to scoop her up the second she seems hurt.


Derek appears in the doorway, still in his uniform with a bag from the Chinese food place across town in his hands and Stiles beams up at him, waving him over and simultaneously making grabby hands for the food.


“She’s standing.” He says once he’s sat himself on the floor beside Stiles, sounding a little awed.


“Yep. She’s a genius.” Stiles says proudly, digging into the Chinese food while keeping half an eye on Jay as she just stands there, holding onto the couch. Eventually she lets go and smacks the cushion, falling back again and Derek is there, scooping her up by her armpits and holding her so that she’s standing on his thighs.


“She is.” Derek agrees, holding Jay so that she can bounce up and down on his legs, smashing her feet into Derek. “I wonder how that happened. Where on earth did you get your brains, kiddo?” He asks, tone light and teasing as Stiles jabs his arm with his chopsticks.


Asshole.” He mutters, only to let out a triumphant noise when he finds the honey chicken. “Just for that I’m eating all of this.”


“Careful, she’s gonna start repeating you soon.” Derek says, sounding terribly amused by Stiles’ future plight, even as Jay gives a particularly hard tug to Derek’s hair. He doesn’t even wince, the asshole, just uses one hand to hold Jay up while snagging her hand with the other so that he can relocate it to his shirt. Stiles doesn’t tell him that’s a bad idea, lets him find out when she tugs hard enough that the back of Derek’s collar digs into his skin.


“Good girl, defending Daddy from jerk faces like Deputy Hale.” He croons, reaching out to tickle his daughters tummy.


“Keep calling me names and I’m gonna stop bringing you food.”


“Lies. Lies and untruths.”




Stiles’ first heat after Jay is born hits suddenly and without warning. He hadn’t even given thought to it, to be honest, had forgotten to account for it in the business that was raising a kid.


It’s not like it’s even a particularly bad heat, he can already tell that, considering his heats tend to hit him hard and fast with little time for much, other than to curl up in a heat room and ride it out. This one’s just under the surface so far, need buzzing under his skin with the urge to touch, to be touched. Still, he doesn’t know how bad it will get, if it even does get bad. He’s been hoping he’d be one of those omegas who have better heats after they procreate.


He squashes the feelings down as much as he can and calls his Dad while simultaneously trying to spoon mashed sweet potatoes into Jay’s mouth. She’s mostly over trying to shove the food right back out her mouth, but she’s also moved on to trying to grab the spoon and flinging the food at Stiles. It’s a trade off, really.


“I need you to come get Jay.” He says, the second his Dad answers the phone.


“Stiles, I’m at work.” His Dad says, sounding exhausted and like he’s not at all in the mood for Stiles’ shit right now. Stiles understands, his Dad worked a night shift only to turn right back around and work in the morning. Apparently being the sheriff doesn’t mean he gets any easier of a schedule than the deputies.


“Dad, I’m in heat.” He says, and he can hear the groan on the other side of the line. He doesn’t feel too bad though, he’s the one who’s about to be miserable after all, not his Dad. “And it’s kinda hard to wrangle a child while going through hell. So please, please come get your granddaughter? Or make one of your deputies do it? Scott’s at work right now, but I’m sure he’ll help with her too.” He knows because Scott already offered.


Scott’s a champion and one of Stiles’ favorite people ever, not just because of his offering to babysit while Stiles spends almost a week locked up. Besides, he knows half the offer is because he wants to wave the child in Allison and Isaac’s faces to try and get them to agree to children sooner or later. Scott’s sneaky like that.


“Alright, alright. I’ll send someone over to get her.” His Dad is definitely trying to sound put-upon here, but Stiles knows for a fact it’s all an act. No one other than Stiles loves Jay more than his Dad does.


“She’ll be ready. Thanks Dad.” He says before hanging up, huffing a disgruntled little noise when Jay manages to get her hand into the bowl of baby food in his distraction and throws a glob of it right into Stiles’ hair.


“We’re gonna get you in sports baby girl, capitalize on the throwing thing.” He says, fond even as he scatters some cheerios on her highchair tray to keep her busy and then ducks his head under the faucet of the kitchen sink to wash sweet potato out of his hair.


Stiles hasn’t even finished scrubbing a towel over his hair before there’s a knock on the door, which wow, that was quick.


He’s even more surprised when he opens the door and it’s Derek standing there, dressed casually instead of in his uniform. He looks comfortable, in a shirt that looks like it’d be soft if Stiles touched it, though his expression is pinched, worried, and his nostrils flare, probably getting a big whiff of Stiles and his heat pheromones.


“Yeah, sorry about that, didn’t think Dad’d send an alpha.” Stiles says, waving a hand for Derek to come in and heading back into the kitchen.


“It’s fine. The sheriff warned me of what I was walking in on.” Derek says, looking for all the world like Stiles’ scent isn’t bothering him. Stiles knows Derek though, has spent a lot of time with him over the last year or so, and he knows it’s bugging him. Can tell by the way his fists are clenched and his breathing is a little shallower, like he’s trying not to get a big whiff of it.


It’s kind of nice, in a weird, stomach twisting way. At least Stiles isn’t the only one effected by this, because it’s taking a good deal to not climb Derek like a tree right then. His scent is familiar, and warm, and Stiles kind of wants to curl up in it.


He has to think about Jay though, and the fact that Stiles is pretty damn stubborn in his want to never sleep with someone for the first time while he’s under the influence of his heat. The thought’s just always kind of skeeved him out.


Jay seems to light up at the sight of Derek, smacking her hands onto the tray of her high chair and then lifting her arms imperiously to be picked up.


“Thanks for taking her.” Stiles says, as Derek proves that he’s horribly whipped by Stiles’ daughter and lifts her into his arms just like she wants.


“No problem. She’s a good kid, so I don’t mind.”


“Damn right she is. She’s the best.” Stiles grins, reaching out to tickle under Jay’s chin. “You go have fun with Derek, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna deal with icky icky heat and then snuggle the crap out of you, kay?” He presses his lips to Jay’s cheek, smoothing his hand over her hair, a little reluctant to let her go, even if he knows he needs to. 


“You gonna be okay?”


“Yeah, dude, yeah. I’ll be fine. Just, y’know, haven’t been away from her for this long before.” Stiles says, shrugging a little because it’s true. He doesn’t think he’s spent longer than an afternoon away from his kid since she was born. His inability to separate too much is what’s contributed to him not yet reenrolling to finish his masters, but he likes what he’s got going right now. He likes spending the days with his kid, and hanging out with his Dad and seeing Derek.


It’s good. He likes his life now. Not that he didn’t like it before, but he likes it better now. It feels a little more right, and he feels more settled in his skin than he ever has before.


Well, normally he feels more settled in his skin. Right then he feels like he’s about to crawl out of it, and it’s taking some serious self control to not seek out the things he knows would make that feeling a little better.


“Take the kid. I’m gonna go curl up in my room and wish for ice cream. Thanks again.” He says, bumping his shoulder to Derek’s, giving Jay one last kiss to her chubby cheeks and then disappearing up the stairs to try and ride his heat out.




Stiles’ heats have, up until pregnancy, been like clockwork. They’re hard, and hit like a goddamn freight train, but they’re at the same time every year and they progress the same way. He spends a week in October, every year, curled up in a room, jerking off, eating chocolate ice cream, drinking gatorade and sleeping. It’s actually not as bad as Stiles makes it out to be after. It’s kind of miserable, way too sweaty to be anywhere close to comfortable and it’s lonely as fuck, but it’s not the worst thing ever.


He’s heard of worse. He’s heard of omegas that choose the wrong alpha to go through heat with, and end up begging for things they wouldn’t normally want. He’s heard of even worse, too, things that are horrifying enough that really, he thinks his arrangement is pretty perfect.


It just sucks that it snuck up on him this time. Usually he’s prepared. The slow burn had turned to a raging fucking fire after Derek had left with Jay, and it’s not like he’d trusted himself to go to the store anyways. So now, he’s left without the things he tends to desperately fucking crave during heat. God he just wants some chocolate ice cream. Or chocolate cake. Brownies. Even a freaking chocolate protein bar would be better than nothing right then.


His longing sighs for the joys of sugary, chocolatey bliss are interrupted by his door cracking open, a plastic bag sliding through the crack before it closes and the sound of the floorboards creaking in a way that suggests someone just sat outside his door.


He slides off his bed and crab walks across the floor, snatching the bag to look inside of it and letting out a delighted sound at what he finds. Wasting no time, he digs into the first tub of ice cream, using the spoon thoughtfully included in the bag to shove a bite into his mouth with a happy little moan of “oh my god, yes.”


“Your Dad said you were probably dying without any supplies, and Scott wanted to take Jay as soon as he got off, so I figured I’d bring you some.” Derek says, voice clear through the door.


“You’re my knight in shining armor Derek Hale.” Stiles says, every ounce of him sincere as he shoves another bite of cold, delicious, chocolate in his mouth. “You even got me the fancy ice cream.” He adds, making a blissful, little moaning sound as he takes another bite.


Derek is quiet for a long moment, long enough that the only way Stiles even knows he hasn’t left is because he knows the step outside the door is squeaky as fuck and he’d hear it if Derek did. “Can I bring you anything else?” He asks finally, and Stiles’ heart does some weird sort of swooping thing in his chest that leaves him a little breathless.


It’s such an omega feeling, the sheer feeling of pleasure at an alpha wanting to take care of him. It’s one he’s not particularly used to either. He’s had Scott in his life, but that’s about it when it comes to alphas that are close to him, and he’s never really dated them either. Not out of any bias, or because they aren’t his type, but because that’s just how it’s always worked. Besides, it’s a lot easier to date betas when alphas tend to be the ones holding onto notions of tradition when it comes to omegas, even in a world where that type of outdated thinking is becoming harder and harder to hold on to.


“Stiles?” Derek’s voice comes again, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts. He sounds a little concerned, and Stiles is sure if he could see his face his eyebrows would be pulled down, lips pursed in concerned confusion.


“Yeah- I mean, no. No, I’m good. Just- Could you- I mean, you don’t have to-“




“Could you come in here for a little bit?” He asks, waiting for the outright denial.


“I don’t think that’d be- You’re in heat and it’s not like-“


“Not for anything like that dude! No sex, like none while I’m in heat. Like, A, I already have a tiny child and am not ready for another anytime soon. Hell, with how much of a handful Jay is I might not ever be ready for another, so doing that while I’m at my most fertile and like 90% guaranteed to get knocked up if I have sex? Yeah, not on my agenda. And B, the idea of sex during heat has always kinda skeeved me a little? Like the consent is so iffy, for both parties, because the omega’s pretty much driven by the desire to get fucked, no matter how it happens, and the alpha’s under the influence of some pretty serious pheromones, so it’s always seemed like a no-win situation unless you’re in a committed relationship. It’s like fucking drunk or high, only do it if you’ve discussed it before hand and know each other’s boundaries and even then man, it can be iffy.”


Stiles.” Derek’s voice has just enough hint of alpha that Stiles stops before he can go into an even longer rant. It’s pretty nice that he can even rant right then though, the heat having ebbed enough for the moment that he’s coherent. He’s used to being pretty mindless the entire time, and he’s not perfect, still wants to climb Derek and be fucked and held and taken care of, but he’s also cognizant of everything. Post-pregnancy heats might have their downfalls, but this new aspect is entirely an upside.


“Sorry, sorry. Just, uh, can you come in here and cuddle me or whatever? I know that’s weird, but you kinda started it with your whole bring me things and take care of me alpha schtick and now my instincts are kinda going haywire and yeah…” He says, trailing off awkwardly and flapping his hands even though Derek can’t even see him. He shoves another bite of ice cream in his mouth to distract himself, not really expecting Derek to agree but hoping. He can’t help but focus on how good it’d feel to have someone’s -Derek’s- arms wrapped around him.


Derek doesn’t answer verbally, but moments after Stiles has given up hope of Derek agreeing, the door is opening and Derek is sliding into the spot on the ground next to Stiles, eyes still on the door like he’s prepared to bolt if Stiles tries to molest him or something. Stiles is pretty understanding of that urge. He’d tried to get Scott to let him suck his dick his first heat, and things had been pretty awkward for a whole six hours afterward, which is roughly five and a half hours longer than anything is ever awkward between Stiles and Scott. Stiles in heat has historically been a pretty awful thing.


“Dude, I promise I’m not gonna bad touch you.” He says, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. It seems to work, because Derek cracks a small smile and shifts until their sides are touching, a warm line from shoulder to hip.


“I’m just kinda surprised you’re so… together, right now. Scott warned me that you’d be a little-“


“Manipulative? Cunning? Needy? A horrible human being?” Stiles offers, knowing any of those adjectives could be used to describe Stiles during his previous heats.


“Persuasive.” Derek seems to settle on, nodding a little with the word.


“Oh trust me, I can still be plenty… persuasive. That part’s just passed for right now. And I fully expect you to shove me across the room and get the fuck out of here when it comes back, because no one needs to see that shit.”


“You’ve got a lot of trust in me being able to resist your persuasions.” Derek says, a wry twist to his mouth. Stiles rolls his eyes so hard at that it almost hurts.


“You’re an alpha on the police force. My Dad’s a sheriff dude, I know how many tests you had to pass to prove your self control. Also you know my Dad would shoot you if you did anything. He probably wouldn’t murder you, but he’d at least shoot you in the leg or something.” Stiles says with a slight wave of his hand, like his Dad shooting someone is within the realm of normalcy. “Besides, you’d never push the consent thing anyway. Everyone knows the Derek and Kate Story.”


Derek goes stiff at that, and for a second Stiles is worried he pushed it too far, that he overstepped whatever boundaries are still there for the two of them after over a year of Stiles pestering Derek on a regular basis. He relaxes a beat later though, shifting to wrap an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and bearing Stiles’ weight when he slumps into the alpha.


“Yeah, I guess everyone does.” Derek says simply, like Stiles didn’t just bring up a probably traumatic experience from his youth that their small town has never seemed to forget.


“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something like that. I shouldn’t have-“


“Stiles, relax. I’m not going to freak out because someone mentions Kate. If that was going to happen I’d have never lasted in this town. Besides, Mom put me into therapy the second it all got out.”


“I still don’t know how your Mom didn’t kill her. If anything like that ever happens to Jay- God, I’d-“ Stiles gestures ineffectively, not able to form words for his thoughts on the matter. Derek had been 15, 15 and Kate had been 28, making a kid fall in love with her and then trying to burn his house down when his family found out and ended it. Stiles had been too young to really understand it all, but he remembers people talking about how Kate had laughed at the trial, acted like it was all one big game. 


“I would too.” Derek says softly, arms squeezing around Stiles.


“Hm?” Stiles hums in confusion, because he’s pretty sure he didn’t even make an understandable point for Derek to agree with.


“If someone did to Jay what Kate did to me, I’d probably rip their throat out.” Derek says, sounding incredibly serious and Stiles can’t help it, he smiles huge and presses his face into Derek’s chest gratefully.




Stiles’ heat lasts four days and passes pretty much the same as it had the first day. Derek stops by at least once every day with updates about Jay and sits with him while he’s coherent, and when Stiles goes under again he always leaves, leaving him with ice cream or other sugary treats, gatorade and his dignity mostly in tact. The rest of the time he spends more or less in a daze, jerking off and eating more ice cream than he thinks should be physically possible.


When it’s all over Stiles is grumpy, and tired and kind of wants to take a twelve hour nap, but more importantly he wants his kid. He lights up when Scott brings her back over, tossing her into the air once to hear her giggle and then clutching her close.


“There’s my little lady, my best girl, my peanut, my sugar plum, honey bunch, apple of my eye.” He crows, pressing his cheek to Jay’s and nuzzling.


“She missed you, dude.” Scott says, the same longing look he tends to get on his face whenever he watches Stiles interact with Jay.


“She better have. I carried you for over 9 months kiddo, you better miss me.” Stiles says, turning his attention to Jay as he speaks. He grins when she babbles at him, smacking her hands into his cheeks before he looks back at Scott. “You having any luck convincing your terrible twosome that it’s time to commence the baby making?”


“Yeah, I think I am. Still, we’ve gotta try for it and then wait nine months and I totally wanna be a Dad dude. I think I’d be good at it. If Derek’s managing to do the pseudo Dad thing decently then I think I’ll rock doing the real Dad thing.”


“Okay, you will totally be an awesome Dad Scotty, but Derek’s not doing the pseudo Dad thing. He’s like, the cool uncle. The slightly cooler than you Cool Uncle, because he wears leather and can scowl really nicely and you just look like an angry puppy when you try.”


“Dude, he’s totally doing the pseudo Dad thing. He’s been doing it since Jay was in the womb. You guys are gonna run off into the sunset one of these days.” Scott says because Scott is… actually not a moron now that Stiles thinks about it. Scott is kind of right. Derek is totally Dad-ing his kid.


“Dude, dude, I think Derek might be into me.” Stiles says, like it’s a huge revelation and Scott stares at him, like this is a realization that should have been had ages ago.


“Yeah, that’s kinda been obvious since you went into labor and he went to the hospital with you.” Scott says, shaking his head at Stiles. Stiles is pretty sure he’s absolutely allowed to be shocked here, okay? He’s still not entirely sure he believes what he’s saying, anyways. Maybe Derek just really loves his kid. He doesn’t seem like a kid person, per say, but he could be.


“You’re gonna tell Allison and Isaac about this and they’re gonna laugh at my pain, aren’t they?” He asks, making faces at Jay when she grabs at his mouth.


“It’s one of Isaac’s favorite things. I’d be a horrible mate to take that away from him.” Scott says so earnestly that Stiles can’t even be particularly mad, not that he would be anyway. Scott’s total devotion to Isaac and Allison once they’d figured all their shit out and realized they were better as a triad than anything else has always been equal parts nauseating and adorable.


“Rude.” Stiles says mildly, but he grins a second later and bumps their shoulders together, only to be interrupted from trying to start a bro moment by his daughter’s sudden shriek. “I think that’s my signal that it’s dinner time.”




Stiles fully intends to corner Derek with no way out so that he has to listen to Stiles’ bullet point list of why Derek Is Totally Into Him. Only, he finds he doesn’t have to, because before he has a chance Derek is just there, at his house, with a bag of Chinese takeout and one from the grocery store that has Jay’s favorite baby food. Stiles isn’t sure how Derek knew they were out, but they were, so he’s kind of endlessly grateful that Derek brought him more. Stiles hates grocery shopping lately. It’s a total event now that he has a kid.


“Dude, did you even realize that you’re half in love with me?” He asks when Derek is seated at his kitchen table, feeding Jay her baby food and even making the train noises she likes because Derek is totally Jay’s other Dad. How did Stiles not see that before?


Derek’s doing that thing where he pretends to be confused as he asks “What?” and Stiles rolls his eyes at him.


“You’re Dad-ing my kid.”


“That should prove I love your kid more than anything, really.”


“You also never told me to go away, even when I was pregnant and annoying. Especially when I was pregnant an annoying.”


“That’s called having serious tolerance.”


“And you wouldn’t let anyone tell you you couldn’t ride in the ambulance to the hospital with me.”




“And you fed me, like all the time. You took me to lunch when you didn’t have to, and listened to my rambling and you come over here all the time. You comforted me during my heat, and brought me things I needed and didn’t even try to make a move. Which yeah, is seriously what any respectable person should do, but most people are assholes, so there’s that. Also, you love my kid, which is the big one here, because I love my kid, I do, but she’s kinda evil sometimes? She pulls people’s hair, hard, and dude, I think she’s started biting? It’s a new thing, but she totally bit me earlier. Hard. She has like two teeth and it still hurt like a bitch. I saw her pee on you once! I always thought that was only a worry with baby boys, but no, she managed it. And you still love her dude. You threatened to rip people’s throats out for her! You’re Dad-ing my kid. People don’t Dad other people’s kids without some sort of attraction to the other parental figure.” Stiles is rambling, he knows he’s rambling, and when he glances over at Derek he looks fond. It’s pretty much all the proof Stiles needs to know he’s right.


“Circumstantial evidence.” is all Derek says, but he’s smiling, genuinely smiling, and Stiles doesn’t resist the urge to drop down into the seat next to him and press into his space.


“You looove me. You want to make out with me and hold my hand and Dad my kid. Don’t even front Derek Hale, you know you do.” Stiles says, pointing his finger at Derek’s chest.


“Aren’t you the Dad to your kid?” Derek asks, grabbing onto Stiles’ finger.


“You can be Papa, whatever. The point totally remains. You want your face on my face, you can’t deny it.”


It shouldn’t be a surprise when Derek shuts him up with a kiss, a hand cupping the back of Stiles’ neck to hold him still, but it still is. Stiles’ eyes go wide for a moment, his whole body going stock still until he just melts. He leans into it, hands coming up to curl into the front of Derek’s shirt and head tilting a little as he kisses back. It’s perfect. It’s mind meltingly good. It’s everything Stiles has been waiting for for the past year and he hadn’t even known it. It’s also being interrupted by the legitimate screech of his daughter as she throws a glob of sweet potato at their heads.


Stiles’ pulls away with a disgruntled noise, leveling a scowl at his daughter, though it falls a little flat at the sight of her chubby cheeks and hand covered up to the wrist in sweet potatoes.


“Traitor, betrayer, my own flesh and blood is cock blocking me!” He crows, even as he leans in to wiggle his fingers along her ribs, grinning at her giggles. “Peanut, do you know how long it’s been since I got any action, even of the kissing variety? Since before I found out I was knocked up with you. Though seriously, I’m putting you in sports with that arm. Derek can teach you how to play baseball. Maybe we can get him into the pants, even. I’ve seen the pictures, he was pretty hot.”


“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek says, every inch of him fond as he leans in to kiss Stiles once more before turning his entire attention back to Jay.


His life, Stiles decides as he watches Derek take care of his kid like he has no reason in the world not to, is pretty damn close to perfect.