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"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Stiles asks quietly, clearly hoping his voice won't carry to the little ears between them.
Frankly, Derek thinks Stiles could shout the question and Micah wouldn't even notice. Right now, their son is so engrossed with the carnival grounds around them that he's probably not listening to a word they say.
Still, Stiles' concern sets Derek's lips into a soft smile, just like it always does when Stiles looks out for them. "We'll be fine, I promise."
"I mean. I know that. Obviously. But like, little man is only six! Are we sure a haunted house is okay?"
The little man in question is currently walking between them, holding both of their hands and randomly launching his feet off the ground so he swings between them like they're part of the carnival rides he's been enjoying for the past two hours.
"Pretty sure he'll be fine. Will you?" Derek teases.
They've already decided that Stiles will sit this one out, literally, using the time that Derek and Micah are exploring the haunted house to rest his swollen ankles. At thirty-eight weeks pregnant, the last thing they need is some silly jump scare causing premature labour.
Stiles rolls his eyes and Derek can practically feel him considering whether or not to let go of his cotton candy so he can reach out and smack Derek. In the end, he just huffs out a laugh and says, "Yes. I'll be fine. I'll just be out here, all alone, eating my cotton candy and waiting for my family to return."
There's no time to respond to Stiles' overdramatic and, frankly adorable, pout because, between them, the little ball of energy that is their son has just caught sight of the crooked building up ahead. "Daddy! Papa! Look! The haunted house!"
"Yeah...it sure is," Stiles murmurs, his eyebrows suddenly tugged together as he takes in the strange attraction.
And it is strange.
It's exactly how an illustration would depict a haunted house, all slanted angles and various levels that looked stacked on at physics-defying angles. The paint job — a deep purple that's nearly as dark as the black trim — is perfectly distressed and leaves the entire thing with a vibe that's...really creepy.
But at the exit, groups of people are walking out with smiles on their faces and laughter that floats to Derek in bubbling waves, even from the smallest of the kids.
"They seem to like it." They stop at the edge of the little path that leads to the entrance and Derek nods towards one of the families. "And that girl is definitely younger than Micah."
"She does look pretty happy," Stiles agrees with an air of admitting defeat. "For a second it made my Spark...I don't know. Prickle? But it's gone now. You gotta admit, though, something about it is really unsettling."
"Isn't that kind of the point?" Derek says, "to be unsettling? But if you think something is wrong..." He lets the sentence fade, giving Stiles the space he needs to reach out with his magic, to feel for anything off. If Stiles has any doubts, Derek is happy to just take both of his boys home right now.
Instead, though, Stiles' expression cycles through a mixture of concentration, annoyance, acceptance, and then relief. "It seems fine? I'm probably just nervous about Micah's first experience with a haunted house. Me and Scotty went into one on a field trip in second grade and one of us may have peed our pants. And no, I'm not naming names."
"It was you," Derek says matter-of-factly, despite having never heard this particular story before.
"Hey. Not naming names. Geez."
Derek can only smirk but it's Micah that ends up easing Stiles' worried mind.
"Daddy?" Since they're already stopped, Micah lets go of Derek so he can face Stiles, giving a little tug on Stiles' hand as he does. It's more difficult with the swell of his belly and his not-so-balanced center of gravity, but Stiles is still quick to lower himself to Micah's level, one knee on the ground to keep himself steady.
"Yeah, nugget?"
"You don't need to worry. It's all just pretend. And I'll keep papa safe if he gets scared!"
It's said so earnestly that Derek nearly melts and he can tell Stiles is feeling the exact same way. "Of course you will, you're the bravest little man I know!" Stiles leans in and plants a kiss right to the middle of Micah's forehead. "But just remember, things are probably going to pop out from around corners, and people dressed up like monsters might jump out from doorways, okay? And it might be a little scary at first, but it's just to startle you. They won't hurt you."
"Daaaaaddy. I already know that!"
"I know you do, but I feel better when I get to remind you, okay?"
"Fiiiiine."
The sheer level of sass from their son is one hundred percent Stiles and Derek couldn't be happier that Micah has all the hallmarks of Stiles' personality, even if, physically, he's a carbon copy of Derek.
"And it's okay to be scared," Stiles reminds him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
Micah nods sagely. "Papa says doing things that scares you is what makes you brave."
"Does he?" Without ever letting go of Micah's hand, Stiles casts a look up at Derek, a mixture of love and mischief dancing behind those eyes. "Well, papa is a smart dude, so I guess he must be right."
"Now can we go?" Micah is literally bouncing in excitement, another trait he inherited directly from Stiles, and Derek knows that Stiles can never say no to Micah when he's this animated about something.
"Yes. Go. Be brave, have fun."
The answer earns Stiles a smacking kiss, and then Micah is suddenly at Derek's side, one hand wrapped around Derek's thumb and the other around his pinky, doing his best to tug him along. "Come on, papa! Let's go be brave!"
Derek huffs out a laugh, but doesn't budge just yet. "Just a second, buddy. Let me help daddy back up."
And of course, since Micah has been a daddy's boy since the day he was born, he agrees immediately. "I'll help too!"
"Aww, thanks nugget." Stiles grins as Micah supports his belly while Derek helps him to his feet. "And thank you, too, papa."
This time Derek is the one that gets a kiss, soft and slow and full of love, though it's cut short when Micah huffs and declares, "It's haunted house time, not kissing time!"
"Right you are, little man," Stiles laughs. "Have fun!"
By the time Derek and Micah make it to the front door of the haunted house, Stiles is settling himself on a nearby bench, resting his bag of baby blue cotton candy on the swell of his stomach. He pulls out a puff of it, raises it in cheers as Derek looks back, and then Micah is tugging Derek through the slight glow of the doorway until the carnival, and Stiles, disappear behind them.
But something is wrong.
Derek feels it as soon as he's passed through the threshold, and it isn't just the sudden darkness that surrounds them. It's a shift in the air, in his blood. His teeth and claws itch, ready to draw blood, though he hasn't even shifted. He shouldn't even be considering shifting, but every cell in his body is screaming danger and Derek has learned to listen to that internal warning.
So he tugs Micah back to him, scoops him up and takes a step backwards, back to what should be the carnival in full swing, but the doorway they just walked through is gone. He hits a wall of stone instead.
"Papa?" Micah whispers. He doesn't sound scared, not yet, but Derek can hear the confusion and worry in that one single word. "It feels funny in here."
"Yeah, bud. It does, doesn't it?"
Derek knows at least part of that feeling is their body's reaction to a mountain ash barrier. He's felt it enough times in his life to recognize the heat beneath his skin, the uncomfortable tingle at being too close to something he can't pass.
"Maybe we can go through the haunted house real fast?" Micah asks, still just as quiet, like he doesn't want to disturb the unearthly silence around them. Derek doesn't blame him. There's something very wrong about the complete and utter lack of sound. No voices, no noise from the rides and crowds outside. There's not even a whisper of air movement around them. It's unnatural. "That would still be brave, right?"
"You know what, I think that's a really good idea," Derek whispers back. He's got Micah hitched on his right hip, so he uses his left hand to reach out beside him, hoping to find a doorway or a light switch. Anything. All he finds is a rock wall.
A wall that burns and repels his hand.
The only silver lining is that his eyes seem to be adjusting to the dim light of the space, without even drawing on his wolf vision. It turns out the room isn't actually pitch black, just dark enough that it seemed that way when they first walked in. Now, he can see that there's a faint glow coming from...somewhere? Everywhere?
It's a deep purple, much like the colour of the house from the outside, and it permeates the entire space with its barely there flush of light. And now that he's looking even closer, Derek would swear it's emanating from the stone around them.
"Are we in a cave, papa?" Clearly Micah's eyes are adjusting too, and that hint of light seems to ease his fear. The grip around Derek's neck lessens just a bit.
It's a good thing, really — the last thing he wants is Micah to be afraid — but Derek can't decide if it's better to tell Micah what's really happening or if he should let him think this is all part of the haunted house experience. He's also wondering if Micah is right about where they are. It really does feel like they're trapped in the depths of a hidden cave. "I don't know. But I think we're going to have to walk through to find out."
Ever since he learned to talk, Micah has been an insatiable learner, always asking questions, trying to work out the ways of the world around him. Which means that right now, Derek can practically feel the questions percolating in that beautiful mind of his. He's surprised, though — and maybe a little heartbroken — by the one that comes out.
"Would it still be brave if maybe you carried me?"
"Yeah, sweetheart. It'd still be brave. But remember what daddy said? It's okay to be scared, too. You don't have to be brave all the time."
In the hint of a pause before Micah answers, Derek takes one last look around where they're standing, hoping to find something he missed, some way out, but it seems like they've somehow been transported into a dead end tunnel with only one way to go.
"Are you scared?" Micah whispers.
"Yeah. I'm a little scared. But I'm going to keep us safe, okay? And we're going to find our way back to daddy."
"Okay."
That simple trust shores Derek up, steeling him for whatever comes next.
So they move.
He keeps a firm hold on Micah as they make their way forward, and it only takes a dozen or so steps to realize they're not just moving straight. They're moving down, too. The ground slopes away from where they're standing, uneven rock that occasionally shifts beneath his feet as he moves and keeps him from picking up the pace.
The passage they're in is taller than Derek for the most part, but the walls narrow in at times, sometimes uncomfortably so. He'd reckon the opening stretches from nearly four feet across at its widest, only to narrow so much that Derek has to turn sideways and shuffle through the rock, earning repeated cuts and scrapes along his back as he does.
But he keeps moving.
He's sure they've travelled over a mile by the time they reach a large opening in the cave, an intersection, of sorts, with five passages leading in different directions. And it's there, as they stand in the massive cavern, that they finally hear something other than their own breathing and Derek's steady footsteps.
Growls, low and threatening, answered by a high pitched screech.
"Papa?" Micah asks, hardly loud enough to be heard. "What's that?"
"Something we want to stay away from."
The problem is, it's hard to tell which tunnel the sound came from. The noises echo through the space, bouncing off the rocks into the bizarrely dead air, where they seem to grow louder and far more threatening.
They're also getting closer.
Staying put isn't an option, and neither is heading back to a dead end tunnel, so Derek chooses the tunnel that seems to be least likely to house whatever is making the awful noises and he starts to run.
He loses his footing at one point and nearly drops Micah, but he manages to catch himself on one hand and his knees, scraping both open on the jagged rocks, enough to leave several smears of blood behind on the stone. And as he pushes himself back to his feet and takes off at a sprint once again, he just has to hope he's not leaving a trail for whatever is down there with them.
"I don't like this, papa." The tell tale wobble of Micah's lip can be heard in his words, and Derek doesn't even have to look over to know he's about to cry.
"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry," Derek pants, squeezing him just a little bit tighter as he races on. "This isn't how a haunted house is supposed to be. Something went wrong."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I think when we walked through the door, it took us somewhere we weren't supposed to go."
A sniffle. "Like magic?"
"Yeah. Like magic. But not like daddy's magic." God, Derek wishes Stiles was here, that he could use his Spark to help them find a way out. At the same time, though, he couldn't be more grateful that Stiles sat this one out. That he and the newest addition to their family are outside. Safe.
"Because daddy's magic is good?"
"That's right." Even with his werewolf strength, speed, and endurance, Derek is starting to get winded. "Daddy's magic is very good. This magic is..."
Derek skids to a stop at the last second, nearly careening over a ledge into a massive crevice in the rock. It's probably fifteen or twenty feet wide and so deep that, even with the slight glow of the rocks, Derek can't make out the bottom. He can't hear the small stones that tumble into the chasm below hit the bottom, either.
"...bad."
Behind them, the growls and screeching grow louder, clashing against one another like the unknown creatures are fighting each other to get to them first.
"Micah. I need you to hold on really tight and close your eyes, okay?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to do something a little scary and I don't want you to let go." As he speaks, Derek takes maybe twenty steps back, giving himself some space to build up speed. He also gives Micah's back a comforting rub, because even though Micah is being as quiet as can be, Derek can still feel the hitch of his son's chest where they're pressed together. Feel the tears that are falling on the collar of his Henley. "Close your eyes, bud."
Whatever's chasing them is getting closer, close enough that the ground begins to rumble beneath Derek's feet.
So he holds Micah close and he sprints to the ledge as fast as he can.
But the creatures round a bend in the tunnel just as Derek starts to run, a massive roar splitting the air behind them. The sound sets off a primal fear deep inside of Derek and leaves Micah crying out, holding Derek even tighter as he tucks his face into Derek's neck. For Derek, though, he just runs faster than he ever has before, using every ounce of supernatural strength he has to launch himself off the rocky ledge and over the chasm.
One of the creatures — he's sure now that there are several, even without looking back — gets close enough that a razor-sharp fang rips through his calf as he leaps. For a moment, Derek is terrified that the downward momentum will send them plunging into the abyss before he even leaves the ground, but he manages to catapult himself hard enough to break free of the creatures and the ground.
It's enough to slow his jump, though, and as he flies through the air, he realizes they're not going to make it.
So he does the only thing he can do.
He shifts his hold on Micah, whispers that he loves him, and tosses him, as carefully as he can, the last couple feet to the landing on the other side.
Micah's cry shatters his heart, the surprise first and then the broken, "Papa!" but he knows it was the right move when Derek falls just short of the ledge and slams into the rock wall at least ten feet down. He keeps himself from bouncing off and tumbling to his certain death by stabbing his claws into the stone, an act that breaks claws and fingers alike, but it stops him in place and suddenly he's hanging from the rockface with no idea what to do next.
"Papa!"
By the dim glow of the rocks, Derek can just make out Micah's silhouette overhead, leaning dangerously over the ledge.
"Get back!" Derek shouts. "Get away from the edge."
Micah's cries are past words now, hiccuping sobs that almost drown out the screeching and growling from across the chasm, but the outline of his son disappears and Derek is hit by a dual sense of relief and terror.
He can't leave Micah alone up there. Not when god knows what is in this cave with them.
"Hey bud, I'm gonna try to climb up, okay? But I need you to stay away from the edge. Just stay right where you are."
There's no response beyond inconsolable cries that break Derek's heart, but at least Micah seems to be staying put, so Derek counts it as a victory. It's a victory he needs, too, because his current outlook is bleak as hell. The rock wall is slanted, coming out over his head in a sort of outcropping that's going to make climbing up even more difficult. Worse, the rock, while uneven and jagged, has no natural hand holds or crevices to slide his fingers into.
Which means the only way up is for Derek to pull one hand free, broken fingers still sluggishly healing, and then slam it into the wall above his head once more.
It's agony.
But he doesn't let it slow him down.
One hand after the other, he moves maybe six inches at a time, breaking and rebreaking the bones in his fingers with every single punch. His feet scramble against the rock as he goes, body swaying dangerously with each gain, but after just a few minutes, he's almost at the top.
"Papa's coming, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer," he pants. He's exhausted, hardly able to keep going but unable to give up, either.
Not when his family needs him.
So he pulls his right hand out one last time, reaching for the ledge to haul himself up, but just then, as a sudden but blinding light flashes above, the rock around his left hand starts to crumble around his fingers.
He tries to grab the ledge but it's too late, he doesn't have a good enough grip and his fingers barely make contact before he starts to slip and he knows that this is it. That he's failed Micah. That he's leaving his son to fend for himself in whatever hell they've landed themselves in. He throws back his head with a roar, all of his anger and regret breaking free as the tips of his fingers lose what little purchase they had.
But then, out of nowhere, a hand wraps around his wrist, just as the lurching sensation of a fall rips through his body.
"Woah there, big guy," Stiles grunts. He also wraps a second hand around Derek's wrist as he awkwardly leans over the ledge, halfway on his side to keep the swell of his belly mostly off the ground. His voice is strained as he says, "Gonna need a little help here."
With Stiles' help, Derek is able to swing his free hand up and grab the ledge, crooked fingers supporting his weight as the two of them work together to haul him up. It isn't long before they're standing on solid ground and Micah is in his arms, hugging him tightly while Derek pulls Stiles into a crushing embrace.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Derek says, kissing Micah's head again and again while Micah curls into him. "Are you okay?"
A tiny nod is all the answer he gets, but it's enough. His son is safe. And now he can turn his attention to Stiles.
"How did you get here?" Derek murmurs against Stiles' neck, breathing in the scent he knows so well, even if it's veiled in powerful magic right now; something like ozone, but stronger, wilder. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
There's a hint of pain in the chemosignals rolling off of Stiles, but he just pulls back and kisses Derek and then starts fussing over Micah, who quickly reaches out to Stiles and snuggles into his arms.
"I'm okay," Stiles says once Micah is settled in place and his quiet crying has slowed into sniffles and the occasional shuddering breath. "Maybe a little bit in labour."
"What?!"
Suddenly Derek's hands are on Stiles' belly, supporting and listening to the sounds of their baby, who is, apparently, preparing to greet the world. Thankfully, the baby's heartbeat is strong and steady, just like Stiles'.
"So apparently a magic tracking spell to locate a lost fiancé and nugget is kinda taxing on the body." Stiles grins, but that smile quickly fades away at the renewed growling and deafening screech from across the chasm. There's not enough light from the rocks to see what's over there, but there's enough of a reflection to make out at least twenty sets of eyes staring at them through the dark. "What in the everloving fuck are those things?"
"Language," Derek says automatically, just as Micah mumbles 'swear jar' against Stiles' collarbone.
"I don't know what they are, but they're vicious. And hungry." Derek's leg is still knitting itself together.
"Right. Well, how about we get out of here, go have a baby, put some money in the swear jar, and then help the pack find the fuc—jerkface who turned that haunted house into a portal for supernatural beings?"
"Can you get us out? Is it safe?" Derek asks. He's not exactly keen on spending any more time down here than necessary, but he also worries that using his Spark like that again could hurt Stiles or the baby.
"Yeah. Definitely. I have a sort of homing beacon to guide us back. Uses way less magic than it took to find you."
It's only then that Derek notices a sort of improvised doorway drawn on the wall to his left, in what looks like chalk. Derek takes Micah back, who cuddles in close and lets out a quiet sigh, and when Stiles recites a few words and slaps his hand in the center of the makeshift door, the rock disappears and the carnival suddenly opens in front of them, like it should have been there all along.
It's...incredible.
"Have I told you how amazing you are?"
"Not nearly enough, if I'm honest," Stiles smirks and leads them through the door, hand in hand. Derek hardly even winces as his broken fingers slowly shift back into place. "Feel free to tell me again as I push out your baby."
Derek intends to tell him that every day for eternity, but Micah speaks first, looking up at the haunted house as they hurry away. "Is the haunted house over now?"
"Yeah, buddy," Derek answers. "It's over."
"Good." And then, like he's telling a secret, Micah whispers, "I didn't like it."
Derek drops a kiss to Micah's temple and says, "I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart."
He feels horrible about how scared Micah was, and even worse about nearly leaving him alone there to fend for himself. But there's no time for self-recriminations just yet. Not when Stiles is rubbing at his stomach, wincing at what is probably the start of many contractions to come. Without even thinking, Derek begins to siphon away the discomfort, but Stiles' focus seems to lie elsewhere at the moment anyway. Derek might be stunned by the fact that being in labour isn't Stiles' main priority if he didn't already know Stiles so well.
"I know you didn't like it in there, Micah, and I'm sorry it was so scary. But the pack is already on their way and they're going to make sure no one ever gets lost in there again, okay?"
"Okay." Micah is calmer now, out in the open air with his daddy and his papa so close. So even though his cheeks are stained with tears and his eyes are puffy and red from crying, he still leans towards Stiles and says, "Daddy, guess what?"
"What, nugget?"
"Papa threw me real far in the haunted house."
"He did what now?" Stiles asks, turning his I will end you glare on Derek before they even make it past the merry-go-round.
"Uh, why don't we talk about that more once we get you to the hospital?" The suggestion comes as Derek steers them through the crowd towards the parking lot. Because they may have just survived getting lost in a magical haunted house, but Derek is pretty sure the scariest part of his night is yet to come.
This time, though, Derek can't wait for the ride.