Archive of Our Own

“Your brand is hurting in ways I did not even know was possible.”

Derek ignores Cora’s comment, running the tablecloth over the table one more time. It looks clean enough, but you can never be sure.

He needed - wanted - the place to look perfect.

“Seriously,” Cora says, walking in – unfortunately not alone. “This is embarrassing, Der.”

“Oh, but don’t you know?” Isaac asks, in an overly condescending tone of voice. “We must make sure the den is perfect before Stiles comes over!”

“You’re so right,” Cora says, in the same tone of voice. “What if Stiles walks in and sees a fingerprint on the window? He’ll probably faint and then run away, never to be seen again.”

Finally, Derek turns to glare at the two of them in particular.

“You aren’t funny.”

“I think they’re hilarious,” Michelle offers, grin widening when he turns to her. “Oh, come on, Derek. Lighten up. If he kept you, Isaac and Cora alive during his sophomore year, did not run away when you basically claimed him and asked him to move in, and is raising two possibly very messy toddlers, I doubt something like the cleanliness of your house is going to drive him away.”

“You don’t know Stiles,” Derek insists. “He can be...”

“Stubborn,” Isaac says. “And petty. And–” He rolls his eyes when Derek lets out a warning sound. “But we all knew he loved you before you went and confessed your feelings. Like seriously, he was obsessed with you.”

“He spent an entire evening with me and Uncle Peter asking questions about you and Paige,” Cora adds. She pats him on the shoulder. “You had him longer than  you even know.”

“I don’t even know the guy, and I can tell you he likes you,” Sabrina says. “Humans usually run away from men they’re not into and who decide to ask them to move in out of nowhere.”

Derek understands what she’s trying to say, but it’s not like Stiles has ever been a normal human, though.

It’s part of why Derek fell so fast and so hard.

Stiles has always been special, has always deserved much more than what the world has been willing to give to him.

The world had never been kind to him.

And yet, Stiles remained firm in his innate goodness.

Yet, Stiles continued to approach the world with hope and, if not optimism, good cheer.

If it were possible to distill Stiles in three words without losing parts of who he is in the process, Derek would describe Stiles as loyal, positive, and good.

And for it, the world had thrown betrayal, pain and evil his way.

He deserved only good things.

Back in the day, Derek had hated the universe for making him and Stiles mates.

Had hated it with all of his heart, not because he didn’t want Stiles. But because he had known – thought – Stiles deserved better than him.

It had hurt, finding Stiles gone when he had returned to Beacon Hills. Hearing the bitterness from Scott as he explained how Lydia and Stiles had left Beacon Hills and the pack for good, and together.

Part of him had been relieved, though.

Had been glad that Stiles was going to get a chance to live the life he deserved, to live and be the best possible version of himself.

Even after Isaac, Cora and Michelle had dragged him to therapy, part of him had been convinced that Stiles was clearly better off without him, without everything Derek’s existence represented, mates or not.

Only to randomly run into him at the airport, with two supernatural biological daughters, and the overpowering scent of foreign werewolves all over him.

Only to spend the next thirty-six hours or so listening to Stiles’ current life, to hear how everything had changed for him, how life had changed better, and realising it still had not turned out as great as Derek felt it could have.

Because of Aleksander.

“They’re here!” Keith calls, before Derek can even start daydreaming about all the different ways he could break Aleksander’s bones (there are many ways). Derek tunes into Stiles’ heartbeat (still familiar, despite the years of separation), focusing on the moving vehicle and the other apparent occupants of it. 

“You–”

“We’ll stay here,” Cora promises, waving him off. “Go on, go make him swoon.”

Derek shoots her a glare, but he does end up moving closer to the door, listening in as he does so.

Stiles might like calling him a creeper for it, but he is a werewolf. He can’t just turn off his hearing when he wants.

“Ellie, hands to yourself! No touching people who don’t want to be touch– Eleanora Anna Stilinski-Wiotr!”

“Oh, angry dad mode–”

“Lydia, you are not helping.”

“Wasn’t planning on helping.” 

“Ellie, give me that-! No, I don’t care! You were not being nice, so you don’t get to play with this. Lydia!”

“Why are you using your mom tone on me? I haven’t even done anything!”

“Just– help me get them out, and take that whatever game thing is from Ellie.”

“Sir, yes, sir– we’re here by the way.”

“We’re here? Already? Are you sure?”

“Stiles, relax.”

“Relax? I’m so relaxed. I’m super relaxed. I have never been more relaxed than I am right now. I am the definition of relaxed–”

Derek waits until he hears the sound of two doors being unlocked, and then gives himself an additional five seconds before he opens the door.

He could have played it cool for a little longer, but why would he? Stiles knows he’s a werewolf, and it’s pretty clear that the man is already high-strung.

Derek is ready to blame this on that Aleksander and his mother, whether it has anything to do with them or not.

The first thing he sees, as usual, is Stiles.

He looks cold, face paler than usual while his nose is tinged red from the cool winter air. He’s wearing a winter bobble hat in red, with a matching scarf wrapped around his neck.

He’s standing over Teo, holding onto her hand as she jumps around in the inch of snow that has formed over the road in a pair of boots that Derek wasn’t aware could be made that small.

Derek had never thought about having children of his own.

For a long time, he had considered his life too dangerous to have children in it. After Stiles, he had considered it, but never thought about it too much. Never expected it to be something he – they – could have.

Seeing Stiles and how he was with his daughters had changed everything.

It had awoken a monster in him that kept reacting in slightly unholy ways whenever he saw Stiles with his daughters in any capacity.

So far, he’s pretty sure he’s manage to keep his reactions a secret from anyone who’s not a werewolf and isn’t able to catch his scent, but he doubts he has the strength to survive Stiles being adorable with the twins for much longer.

“Derek,” Stiles says, and there is something in the way that Stiles’ shoulders relax a fraction when he sees him that makes Derek fill with pride.

He can help him. Whether Stiles needs or is willing to admit he wants his help, Derek’s presence helps.

It’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Hey,” he says, making sure the door won’t close on them before walking up to the car, eyes fixed on the human. “You made it. Here,” he adds, taking the bag he’s failing at keeping on his shoulder. “Let me help you.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says, cheeks turning an adorable shade of red, and again Derek wonders if he’s aware of what he does to him.

He has to be, doesn’t he? He cannot possibly be doing all of this on accident.

Can he?

“Hello, Teo,” he greets, looking down at the girl who’s stopped jumping in favour of watching him. He bends down a little, so that she can see his face. “Remember me?”

When she just blinks at him, Derek flashes his eyes at her.

Like the last time, instead of looking afraid like some pups might do, she looks delighted, reaching to touch his – not shifted – face with her gloved hand.

“De’ek!”

“Correct,” Derek says, patting her on the head. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Over here,” Lydia says, coming round the car with the other girl.

Lydia’s hair is longer and darker than he remembers it being, but for the most part, the girl looks unchanged.

Though Derek is not used to the smile with which she approaches him.

“Anybody who Stiles and the twins like is good in my books,” she says, shrugging. “Ellie, say hi.”

Ellie does not say hi. She continues to ‘cry’ – she sounds like she’s crying, but there are no tears to be seen – though she does not pull away from Lydia’s hold.

Stiles rolls his eyes when Derek looks at him in question.

“She’s decided to try for a Best Actress Oscar,” he says, sounding vaguely annoyed. “Just... let her blow off her steam.”

“Shall we go inside?”

“I’side!” Teo agrees, grabbing Derek’s finger with her other hand and looking up at him. “I’side now?”

If Derek’s heart does anything in response to the girls’ words or actions, thankfully no one around can say anything about it.

Even though the look Lydia shoots him says plenty, while Stiles locks the car behind them.

“Everyone’s waiting to see you,” Derek adds, once they walk into the house and close the door behind them. “Or meet you, in some cases.”

“What does ‘everyone’ mean?” Stiles asks, as he pulls Teo’s hat off with a flourish. He’s giving Derek a look that reminds him a little of his own father whenever Laura or Derek were attempting to pull one over him. It is surprisingly as effective on Stiles’ face.

“My pack.”

Stiles’ eyes widen slightly. “Derek–”

“I promise you, it’s going to be fine,” Derek says. Stiles remains dubious as he and Teo’s hand play tug to take off her glove, so Derek puts a hand on his shoulder. “You already know Cora and Isaac. Sabrina is human too, and she and Keith are mates. Michelle is a werewolf, and knows how much you mean to me.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raises, a hint of a smile on his face.

“How much I mean to you?”

Derek slowly tugs off the scarf around him, until the necklace around his neck is finally exposed.

It soothes something in him, seeing his claim around Stiles’ neck in that manner. To see something that is both a family symbol and a proof of his devotion proudly displayed around his neck.

He traces the chain with a finger, bringing his face even closer to Stiles’.

“Yes,” he says, loving the way Stiles’ eyes go wide at that, tracking his movements. “How much you mean to me.”

His face is slapped away before he can even think of kissing Stiles, Teo’s imperious face appearing in front of him. She puts her gloved hand in his face.

“G’ove,” she demands.

“What do we say?” Stiles asks, even though it sounds like he’s laughing a bit at Derek’s expense.

“G’ove p’ease?”

“Good job,” Derek says, before making a big show of pulling the glove off of her, acting like it’s too heavy to move and making the girl giggle as he does.

He ends up helping her with her boots and her coat too.

When he glances up, Stiles and Lydia are done helping Ellie out too, and the brunet is watching him. He quickly looks away when he’s caught, but the flustered expression on his face is easy to read, as is the - very light - scent of lemons in the air.

Derek manages to not react through sheer willpower.

“Come on,” he says instead, putting Stiles’ bag down with the coats. “Everyone’s in the dining room, and they’re getting impatient.”

Stiles' scent turns a little bitter with anxiety and nerves, but Derek does not have to worry about it, because Cora ends up pouncing on the human as soon as he steps into the kitchen.

Derek has never been able to make sense of the relationship between his sister and Stiles. He had barely seen the two of them interacting, back in Beacon Hills, and yet, when Cora had decided to return to Medellín, Stiles and Lydia were the only people she asked Derek to say goodbye to for her.

Similarly, Stiles had asked Derek about Cora when he had returned to Beacon Hills during the whole ‘Nogitsune’ thing.

For a while, he had worried the two of them had feelings for each other, but it had become clear very quickly than it wasn’t so when Cora had come out to him.

Somehow, the two of them had managed to become friends despite the chaos surrounding everything else they had been going through.

He still does not understand the how of it all, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful for it, especially when Cora’s clear enthusiasm at seeing him makes Stiles’ nervous smile turn into one of his more honest ones.

“Hey, Hale,” he says, laughing as she scent marks him. "Missed you too."

“Shut up, Stilinski,” she says, releasing him after a few more seconds of squeezing and scenting. “God, it's been a while. Look at you! You look good.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Ahem.”

Cora turns to Lydia, the smile becoming a little sharper when it fixes on the red head, while Isaac approaches next.

Another relationship Derek never understood.

Honestly, he does not think he understood any of his betas relationships with Stiles, back then.

“Stiles,” the blond says, patting him over the head. “Good to have you back.”

“Aw,” Stiles says, and he sounds just like he did back then. “Did you miss me, Isaac?”

“Like an arrow in the back.”

“Macabre.”

“Isn’t that how we grew up?” He glances down, toning his expression down into something kinder. “And who do we have here?”

In response to that, Teo and Ellie both hide behind Stiles’ legs, looking suddenly shy and nervous.

“They’re not used to this many people they don’t know at once,” Stiles explains, trying to move and stopping when both the girls whine at that. “But this is Teo, and this is Ellie. Słodycze, this is my friend Isaac, and that’s my friend Cora. Like in the stories, do you remember?”

“You tell them stories about me?” 

“I needed an annoying villain,” Stiles says, snickering when Isaac pouts at him.

“And nobody does annoying like Isaac,” Sabrina says, clearly tired of waiting for someone to introduce her. She steps up to Stiles, and offers him her hand, eyes going between the two girls and him. “I’m Sabrina Conti. Nice to meet you, Derek and these two had a lot to say about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Mostly,” Keith says. “Is it true that you taught your friend control by throwing lacrosse balls at him? Keith Palmer, and that’s my sister Michelle.”

“I did what I had to do,” Stiles says diplomatically, waving at Michelle. “Derek was not helping. This is my best friend, Lydia Martin.”

“The banshee,” Michelle says, looking at the red head curiously. “Cora spoke about you.”

“Oh did she?” Lydia asks, looking incredibly smug about it.

Cora rolls her eyes, and Derek decides that he does not need to understand his sister’s weird friendships with Stiles or with Lydia.

He wants Stiles to stay and be with them, and that means Lydia, Jackson, and Danny. And, to an extent, even the Wiotr pack.

Though, “I did try to help. McCall just wasn’t very receptive to my methods.”

“Remember when Scott and I were trying to play a videogame while on Skype and you randomly decided to appear in a corner of his bedroom?” Stiles asks. “That was creepy, dude.”

“Derek Hale?” Michelle asks, looking delighted. “You did what?”

“If you want embarrassing Derek stories from his before alpha days, I have so many,” Stiles says. “Cora and I tried to create a collection of them.”

“You did what.”

Cora shrugs, not looking apologetic at all. “I told you Stiles and Lydia were my favourite members of your pack.”

Lydia, surprisingly, doesn’t correct Cora about being in Derek’s pack.

Derek had always considered her and Allison Argent weird pack adjacent, especially after Jackson left, but maybe Lydia had been more than that.

There are a lot of things from back then that Derek missed, or things he messed up knowingly or unknowingly.

But he thinks, as he watches Lydia and Cora clearly scheming with each other, Stiles relegating Michelle, Keith and Sabrina with stories about him, and Isaac trying to convince the twins to leave the safety of Stiles’ legs, there’s still time to make things better.

Or rather, a chance at a new start.

Stiles glances at him, that mischievous grin he loves so much plastered on his face.

Derek can only smile back.

Right until Stiles starts lying on his name about what went down when he got shot with a wolfsbane bullet and how Derek apparently begged him to cut off his arm, because, “That is not what happened!”

“You were bent down at my altar, beseeching–”

“You little–!”

“I can’t believe this,” Stiles says, as Derek slowly closes the door behind them. “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood.”

“I thought you made your peace with Isaac.”

“I did,” he agrees, following him away from the house. “I still can’t believe he managed to turn my own daughters against me.”

“In the girls’ defence, Isaac strategically offered them cake while sitting close to a box full of toys,” Derek points out. “They were manipulated by forces beyond their comprehension. And, Ellie did stand strong up until she saw Lydia helping herself to a slice.”

Stiles looks at him at that, like Derek has just done something remarkable and unexpected.

He has been giving him that particular look for years, now, but there has definitely been a strange increase in them in the past few days.

Derek’s still unsure as to what might be causing them.

He had considered it might be his ability to tell the twins apart, but surely that can’t be it. It’s not particularly hard to recognise who’s who.

Their scents are almost identical, at this age, but even so there are little differences in them. 

And they are different people.

Ellie is the more stubborn one, and the one who tries to be more independent.

Teo is the one with the more clear alpha potential, which is easy to see with how protective she is of Stiles even at this age.

Ellie is more dexterous than her sister, and seems to prefer taking the ‘lead’ by walking half a step in front of everyone. Teo is the faster ‘runner’, and is usually quicker at pronouncing words correctly or learning new words in general.

They’re different, so Stiles can’t be surprised to see that Derek is able to distinguish them so quickly.

Unless maybe Aleksander is not as adept at telling the twins apart?

Typical of Aleksander. Weaker wolf, and the worse father, too.

“Who made the cake?” 

“Michelle,” Derek says, forcing thoughts of that stupid man out of his head. Even his name is stupid. Aleksander, Alek. Ugh. “She’s a really good baker, while her brother’s an amazing cook. They’re planning on opening a restaurant, one day.”

“She should,” Stiles says, nodding decidedly. “They both should. I’d be their number one customer. I’m a half decent baker myself, but I need her cake recipe.”

Derek glances at him, and has a sudden beautiful vision of Stiles in an apron, a cake in his hands as he welcomes Derek back.

He almost trips over his own feet.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, pausing mid step and looking vaguely alarmed. “What just happened, I didn’t know werewolves could trip, are you–”

Derek stops him, straightening up and looking him right in the eyes.

“I will get you the recipe.”

Then, before Stiles can develop spontaneous mind reading abilities, he proceeds forward.

Stiles catches up seconds later, looking at him slightly confused.

“You’re so weird, you know that?” he tells him. “And confusing. You’re weird, and confusing, and I do not get you.”

As it’s not his fault that Stiles is painfully oblivious, Derek chooses not to respond.

“We’re here,” he says instead, pointing at the door of the house in front of them.

“It’s not far at all,” Stiles states, glancing back at the way they came. Lydia’s car and Derek’s house are clearly visible from where they stand. “You could probably hear everything from there.”

He probably could, yes.

“There are some rooms that have been soundproofed but probably, yes. That a problem?”

“Not sure,” Stiles says. “I’ll let you know.” Then, as Derek pulls out the keys to open the door, “Oh, right. I knew I forgot something.”

Derek turns back to him, to ask what he’s forgotten, just for Stiles to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and pull him closer into a soft kiss.

It's far from their first kiss. They had spent Derek's last day in Beacon Hills doing nothing more than failing to plan and making out like a couple of teenagers.

Still, five days without kissing Stiles is too much, and Derek finds himself melting against the man's slightly chapped but still soft lips, pressing and shaping themselves against his own.

He could have stood there, kissing Stiles forever.

Stiles, who has clearly turned evil in the past five days, does not allow this.

He pulls back, looking immensely pleased with himself over whatever face Derek is making.

“What was that?”

He shrugs, looking completely unruffled. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Little shit.

Well, Derek can’t in good conscience let him get away with that.

He pulls a laughing Stiles back by the chin, other arm around his waist, angling his face to grant himself better access.

His lips are demanding against Stiles', who easily parts his own, letting out a low moan as Derek's tongue slips into his mouth, his grip against his waist bruising.

Stiles can be as aggressive and as demanding as Derek is, but this time he lets himself be handled, let himself be kissed until he can't breathe, until he can't move without Derek letting him.

Because he is a gentleman, Derek pulls back before Stiles can pass out on him, pressing their lips together again once, twice, three times before he finally lets him go.

This time, he knows for sure the cool December air is not the reason behind Stiles’ red cheeks or his almost glazed eyes.

“Hello to you too.”

Stiles swallows, his already swollen lips diminishing the power of his glare. “You’re an ass.”

“And you love me,” Derek says, unlocking the door without even looking at it.

Stiles just glares at him more, but he doesn’t have anything to say to that.

Derek has spent every day since his return to New York making sure everything was ready.

Stiles hasn’t been particularly clear on whether he was willing to live with Derek or just in the same gated community, so Derek had to work under the presumption that both outcomes were similarly obtainable.

As he watches the surprise on Stiles’ face grow with every step into the house, he feels like that was a good.

Stiles pauses in the corridor, turning to Derek and silently pointing at the base of the stairs.

“Werewolves or not, better be safe than sorry,” Derek says, watching him closely for any hint of a reaction. “There’s a baby gate in front of the kitchen door, too, and in front of the door leading to the garden. And at the top of the stairs.”

“Garden?” Stiles asks, turning and moving deeper in the house.

Derek lets him try to find the garden by himself, moving at a slower pace.

“Michelle cordoned off part of it to turn it into a vegetable garden,” he explains as Stiles moves into the living room. “But there’s still enough space there for the girls to run around, or to get some garden toys.”

“Garden toys?”

“A swing set,” Derek offers. “A slide. I don’t know what sort of games they like, but...”

Stiles stares at him for a long second, before he turns back towards the living room. He runs a hand over the painted walls, eyes roving over the various pieces of furniture around – the couch, the pillows, the tables, the various trinkets and decorative pieces.

“Michelle left most of the stuff behind,” Derek explains after a second of silence. “She didn’t want it or didn’t need it. I fixed up the rest, but obviously if there are specific things you want to change or need–”

“Did you get these?” Stiles asks, hands resting on two matching toy chests, one orange and one yellow. He opens them, his shock growing, “Derek, this is–”

“My choice,” Derek interrupts. “They are your daughters. I won’t overstep, but if I can get them something that they can play with or that they’d like, I will. With your permission.”

“You didn’t ask for my permission for this,” Stiles points out.

He doesn’t smell angry, though, and his tone is light enough that Derek does not worry too much.

So he just smirks, watching as Stiles rolls his eyes once more before continuing his investigation in the house.

For the most part, Derek hasn’t changed the décor of the house too much.

All Michelle had done was move in with Cora, and Cora had a lot of furniture at her place. Michelle had taken the things she most wanted with her, and left everything behind.

Derek’s understanding of interior design is mostly reliant to what he thinks looks nice, feels comfortable, and doesn’t upset his werewolf senses, so while a part of him had wanted to make this a perfect place for Stiles to stay, he hadn’t done all that much in the end.

He knows Stiles well enough to guess he’s not a ‘beige parent’, and so used this certainty when it came to picking up furniture, and swapping out a few pieces Michelle left behind.

He still had only had 4 days really to get most of it set up, so he’s not 100% happy with how the place has turn out, but at the end of the day, this is Stiles’ place.

Derek just has to figure out the best way to trick Stiles into letting him pay for any other thing he wants to add to the house.

“This is gorgeous,” Stiles says, re-appearing from the garden. The happiness in his scent is unmistakable as it is addicting, and it’s impossible for Derek not to smile back. “Seriously, Derek. This place is awesome.”

“It’s what you deserve,” he says, shrugging.

In fact, it’s less than Stiles deserves.

If Derek could, Stiles would have the world, the moon, and the entire universe.

Anything he wants, in Derek’s opinion, Stiles should have.

The world (Aleksander in particular) has unfortunately yet to get to the same conclusion he has, so for now, Derek has to work with the little he has.

“There’s a studio upstairs,” Derek adds, as he watches Stiles duck into the dining room. “I put a couple of books in there that you might like.”

That does stop him.

“Books? About what?”

“Some fiction I’ve read over the years that I thought you might enjoy,” Derek explains. “A couple of supernatural books on werewolves you might want – mostly focused on child wolves. And a few toddler books I bought at the airport on my way back. There’s a large library either way that you can fill–” 

He does see Stiles move, but Derek’s still a little caught off guard when Stiles all but leaps at him and kisses him.

Not that he lets the surprise hold him back for too long, of course. He kisses back easily, letting Stiles' hands on each side of his face keep him in place as Stiles' lips press against his over and over and over.

“You’re amazing,” he says, once he pulls away. Derek doesn't move from his hold. “You know that, right? I mean, you’re completely insane, but you’re amazing.”

“I love you,” Derek says, because he still does not think Stiles really gets what he’s saying.

What those words mean to him. What Stiles means to him.

Stiles swallows, looking almost helpless. “Derek–”

“Did you know that, ever since we moved to New York, there have been days where I am out and about and I catch your scent?” he asks. “It was never particularly strong, never enough to convince Cora and Isaac that I wasn’t going insane. They thought that I was crazed with love and that’s why I kept scenting you everywhere. Cora kept trying to convince me to use her connection to Lydia to try and find you, to try and talk to you.

“But you left Beacon Hills.” Stiles remains silent as Derek’s runs his thumb over his hand. “You needed to be out of Beacon Hills, and you told the pack you needed to stay out of the supernatural. I asked Peter and Scott to keep me up to date with whether you decided to come back, but other than doing that, I wasn’t going to be the one to drag you back into it. Because, Stiles, I love you. And missing you so much that I convinced myself I was hallucinating your scent was nothing in comparison to how I’d feel if I was the one to drag you back into something you managed to escape. Your happiness is all that matters to me.”

Stiles makes a noise like he’s been punched, pressing his face against Derek’s chest.

His scent does not indicate anything bad, however, so Derek doesn’t worry too much, keeping his close.

“Jesus,” Stiles says, voice muffled by the shirt. “You... Fuck, Derek.”

“It’s okay,” he says, gently running his nails through Stiles’ scalp. His fingers sink into the crown of his hair in a way that is certain to give him some terrible ideas in the future. “You don’t have–”

Stiles lifts his head, eyes narrowed at him.

“Don’t even try it, buddy,” he says, unimpressed. The way his cheeks are stained red works against his tone and vibe, however. “I love you too. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even know what it feels like not to love you.” He pokes him against the chest. “You do not have the monopoly over strong feelings.”

He says it like it’s supposed to be a threat, but all Derek can do is smile.

He wants to throw his head back and howl. Wants to strip out of his clothes and let the shift take over, wants to make Stiles see how much his words actually mean to him.

But he can’t.

Not now.

But god he wants to.

“Yeah,” Stiles continues, completely oblivious. “And because I love you, and because I know you, I even went ahead and drew up a contract with Peter. Though,” a pause, as he glances at Derek in confusion. “What were you going to do if I said I wanted to live with you?”

The answer is so obvious, Derek’s a little surprised Stiles hasn’t guessed it already.

“Most of everything you or child related that is here, is also at my place,” he tells him. “I already have some child gates installed around the house – though not everywhere. Everything else, I would have brought over.”

Stiles stares at him.

Derek stares back.

Stiles opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Blinks a couple of times.

“You’re a special kind of insane, you know that, right?”

Derek feels like he should protest something so simple being classified as insane, but Stiles is very good at arguing and that hasn’t changed. Plus, he’s been unfortunately courted by a lesser wolf – Aleksander. His view of how someone should provide for someone they care for, is obviously faulty because of it.

But it’s fine – Derek will fix that.

So, instead of arguing, he simply kisses him again.

“That won’t work for long,” Stiles says, trying and failing to narrow his eyes at him when he pulls away. He can’t stop smiling, and Derek’s wolf swells with pride at putting that expression on his face. “You won’t be able to abuse this for much longer.”

“Mhm,” Derek says, because he does like a challenge. Though, “Peter.”

Stiles frowns. “What? Why would you mention– Are you safewording? Is Peter your safeword? As in Peter Hale or Peter Parker?”

It’s nice to see that Stiles’ mind is as amazingly confusing as Derek has become used to over the years.

“The contract?”

“The– oh!” Stiles snaps his fingers together. “Right. How much am I paying for this place?”

Derek frowns. “Paying? You don’t need to pay.”

Stiles tuts. “I was afraid you’d say that. Which, no way.”

“What?”

“I’m not staying here for free. Yes,” he continues, when Derek tries to protest, “I know you have more than enough money. No, you cannot refuse payment from me. Yes, I know rent is part of the reason I’m moving out. Yes, this is fair even if you don’t think so. Yes, I’m aware that you feel a need to provide for me as your mate. Fine, you can put the money I give you aside for whatever you want.” A raised eyebrow. “Anything else?”

It’s why Stiles is such a perfect mate for him.

He exhibits the perfect traits in a mate (he’s loyal, trustworthy, clever, and brave) but the most important trait is his ability to stand up to Derek. At Derek’s worst, Stiles had been able to stare him down despite his fear and distrust, had been able to argue back with him and tell him exactly where to shove it.

Stiles had faced Derek’s grief, Peter’s demons, and Scott’s instability, and still stood with them against the hunters. Still known that they might do monstrous things, but they were not the monsters in the story.

He spoke to Peter, for god's sake. After what Peter had done to Lydia and Scott, after the former alpha had terrorised him and his friends for weeks (months), Stiles was the only member of the pack who had known him before and did not simply hate him.

He had tried to burn Peter alive with a Molotov cocktail, and he was the only person in the pack who had never asked Derek to kill his uncle again.

He understands him. Has always understood him.

Derek sighs, pretending to be more put upon than he is. 

“Fine. What did you agree with?”

It’s not a bad number. It’s still higher than the $0.00 Derek would have preferred, but considering rent prices in Yonkers and surroundings, it’s incredibly cheap.

It’s clear that Peter has done its best to lower the number as much as possible without making Stiles feel as if he was been given the place just because he was the alpha mate.

Which he is.

But Derek knows the Stilinski have had their money struggles. Derek had paid off Stiles’ Eichen House stay and medical bills anonymously when he had returned to Beacon Hills to find the man gone, but he knows it wasn’t just that weighing them down.

So, he huffs and puffs in a way Stiles both expects and can probably see straight through, and makes a note to start setting up a college fund for the twins’ future.

He knows, realistically, that the twins are not his.

They are Stiles’ daughters, yes, but they are also Aleksander’s.

He doesn’t care.

He knows there are wolves that refuse to accept their partner’s pups, especially if they had those pups with another person, but Derek does not care.

They are pups. All they deserve is to be cherished, protected, loved and cared for.

And that is what Derek is planning to do.

And if Aleksander is as poor a father as he was a partner to Stiles, then Derek will simply prove himself the stronger wolf by stepping up where he has fallen off.

“You’re smirking,” Stiles says, studying his expression. “Why are you smirking?”

“You’re mine,” Derek says, still smiling as he kisses him once more. “And you’re here. I’m keeping you.”

“Possessive.”

“You like it,” Derek accuses, letting his eyes flash red. “I can smell it.”

"Hey," Stiles says, shrugging. "I've never said I was normal. And let's not act like you don't like it just as much."

"I never pretended otherwise," Derek says, crowding Stiles against the wall. "Want me to show you just how much I like it?"

+++

Unfortunately, things don’t go much farther than a couple of kisses before Stiles declares they have to go back.

Apparently Lydia has ‘steep babysitting prices’ and the girls have a Thing about changes in scent.

Which Derek should have probably guessed, considering they were werewolf children.

He remembers how much Cora, when she was younger, hated his and Laura's scent when they came back from school, because they smelt like other people. She would sometimes try to lick their faces and throw tantrums until they smelt like pack again. 

Not every werewolf did this, but it was, according to Peter, not abnormal in children.

He watches as the girls abandon their game with Isaac the second they spot Stiles, both of them trying to explain what they have been up to during their thirty minutes separation, Teo very clearly scent marking the parts of his face Derek has touched while she speaks.

They'll find a way to compromise, he decides.

“So,” Isaac says, in a tone that promises nothing good. “Are you guys staying the night? It is New Years Eve, after all.”

“Obviously,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. She’s sitting next to Sabrina on the couch, both of them drinking from champagne glasses. “Certain people are apparently not done being gay.”

“Lydia!” Stiles reprimands, looking at her in disappointment. “We talked about bi-erasure.”

“Oh, excuse me,” she replies, not sounding sorry at all. “Some people are apparently not done being mlm.”

“Em el em?” Keith echoes, confused but amused.

“Men loving men,” Cora says, re-appearing in the living room with a glass of champagne for Stiles. “Don’t be homophobic, Keith.”

“Yeah, Keith.”

“So disappointing, Keith.”

“Unbelievable, Keith.”

“You guys suck,” he complains, just to smile a second later when Ellie hands him a lego. “Except you. You are awesome, Teo.”

“Ellie,” Stiles and Derek correct at the same time.

“Oh, sorry.” Keith shakes his head. “They look so alike.”

“One might even say they look like twins,” Michelle says, cackling at the expression on her brother’s face.

“Hey,” Stiles says. He’s still on the floor, now with the glass from Cora that he’s working overtime to keep away from Teo’s sticky fingers, but his attention is on Derek. “Are you okay with us staying over? I was originally planning on going home later, but Lydia thinks that we might as well celebrate New Years with friends instead of staying at my place? But we can still–”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you believe for a second I’d be unhappy having you stay over.”

Derek’s pretty sure Stiles did not use to flush so easily and so often, but whether this is a new development or a new talent Derek has discovered, he likes it.

He likes it a lot.

“Plus I already have a room set up for the twins upstairs,” he adds. “So they’ll be comfortable– what?”

Stiles is staring at him, eyes wide.

“Say that again?”

Derek glances around, but the only person paying attention to their conversation appears to be Lydia, who is technically sitting between them. She’s not looking at them, but from the smirk on her face, it’s clear she’s listening.

“I have a room set up for the twins?” He frowns. “I’m sorry, I saw the set up at the Sheriff’s place and thought... Do they sleep in bed with you, usually?”

He isn’t so sure about the safety of that, but he has spent enough time on mommy blogs to notice that when it comes to taking care of your child, every parent has their own routine. What sounds insane to one sounds perfectly reasonable to another, and if it works and the baby is healthy, he figures that’s all that matters.

Stiles does not respond.

He just keeps staring at Derek, not blinking and not talking.

But his scent–

“Don’t worry,” Lydia says, patting him on the shoulder, still smirking. “He’s just processing how much you are made for him and how much he wants to jump you right now.”

The chemosignals are not quite lust, but that doesn’t mean there is a lack of citrus smell.

It makes Derek want to both abscond with Stiles so that nobody else in the room is aware of what’s going on, and makes him want to swell with pride at once more showing to everyone around what a good provider he is for his mate.

“Oh,” Lydia then says, eyeing her glass. “Damn. Need more champagne.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Derek says, because even if Stiles is currently trying to make him go crazy with his scent, he does remember that there are little children and a number of judgemental werewolves in the room.

He needs a second to breathe and to not think about taking Stiles right there and then.

That’d be un-alpha like.

He doesn’t realise he’s walked into a trap until Lydia, who has followed him in the kitchen, closes the door and the baby gate behind them.

“So,” she says, leaning back against the door.

Derek pauses with the bottle of champagne in his hands, eyeing her warily.

“I’ve always had conflicting emotions about you and your family,” Lydia starts. “And not completely rational emotions, either. I have a flyting/flirting relationship with your sister, sort of hate/sort of understand your uncle, and a begrudging respect/respectful grudge when it comes to you.

“I kind of hated you for leaving Beacon Hills and not taking Stiles with you,” she continues. “I saw him after you left, and thought you were a dick. But I also thought Stiles was an idiot, because he could have fixed the entire situation so easily, but for whatever reason refused to do so.

“I met Aleksander,” she says, and politely ignores the way Derek’s teeth come out at the mention of the name. “He and Stiles were a good couple during university. Stiles was a traumatised human, and Aleksander had lived his entire life on easy mode. They sort of made sense. 

“Problems arised the moment it was time to become an adult, and Stiles had all of his trauma and experience, while Alek had everything he wanted handed to him by Andrea. Stiles has had to be an adult since he was sixteen (and one might argue that he’s had to grow up since his mother’s death). Alek is still a child at heart.

“You, on the other hand, are the same broken that Stiles is. You’ve both seen each other at possibly your worst, and if not that, then at terrible points in both your lives. You helped each other, saved each other. Loved each other, and still love each other.”

She crosses her arms, and looks at him up and down in a way that has him bristling.

Not because she’s judging him or anything of the sort. But because, even though Lydia’s technically human, something in her eyes is as predatory as an alpha.

“Stiles is not used to happily ever afters,” she ends up saying. “You gave him one in the most insane way possible, and he took the chance of his lifetime following you. Please don’t let him go.”

None of it is a threat, or even much of a warning. He’s never been scared of Lydia, and he’s not feeling as if she’s any more dangerous than she was in High School.

Yet, something about her words has his throat feeling a little dry.

He busies himself filling her glass and then his own, before he finally looks back at her.

“That’s not a shovel talk.”

“I don’t think I need to give you one,” she says, accepting her glass. “Jackson said something about how hurting Stiles would be tantamount to hurting yourself, and losing him might kill you?”

“Something like that.”

Lydia smiles. “That’s good enough for me. Plus, I don’t think you forgot that I’m a banshee, and I have a werewolf and a Danny ready to help me in whatever I might want to do in the future. Why warn at all? That’d be boring.”

With that, she opens the door again and steps outside, looking as carefree and relaxed as she had been earlier.

Derek’s not quite sure, but he feels that that last one might have been a threat.

Lydia is as strangely dangerous as she was back then, good to know.

As if that whole conversation wasn’t weird enough to begin with, Derek steps into the living room to see Aleksander and his family on Stiles’ screen, Andrea saying something to him in rapid Polish that has Stiles’ clearly already annoyed.

Derek wants more than anything to step in and growl at her until she stops making Stiles upset, but he’s not sure he can.

He knows Stiles has said he and Asia would break news to Alek while together and only once Stiles has a new place, but he’s not sure how much of said news has been shared already.

Has Stiles told them he’s moving in with Derek the same gated community as Derek?

Has he told them they’re... what even are they? Dating? Together? In a relationship?

Will he?

“She’s just joking,” Aleksander says, in English. He’s smiling way too big for it to be honest, and making weird faces at Stiles. “Of course she doesn’t think that, you’re an awesome father to the girls, babe.”

‘Babe’.

Why does he insist on calling Stiles all those ridiculous pet names?

Stiles is not his ‘babe’. Stiles is not his ‘baby’, he’s not his ‘darling’, he’s not his anything.

Any relationship between them starts and ends with the twins. There is no relationship between the two of them anymore.

And yet Aleksander insists on continuing to flirt with another man while his own girlfriend – who Derek does not trust either, considering her mate and her own flirtatious nature (Derek has once heard her proposition Stiles) – sits next to him.

It’s unbecoming.

“Are you sure? It felt to me like she did mean that,” Stiles says, eyes narrowed. “Did you, Andrea?”

“Oh, Teo, what you got there, baby?” Aleksander says, interrupting his mother. “Where did you get that? So pretty!”

“No Teo," Ellie says, while Stiles rolls his eyes. "Ellie. I Ellie."

Uh. 

"Oh, sorry, Ellie-darling."

He got them wrong.

"Isak,” she says, hitting the little toy train against the screen. Derek wishes the toy could go through the screen and actually hit Aleksander in the face. “T’ain Isak.”

“I see that! Who’s Isak, sweetie?”

“Isaac Lahey,” Stiles says, pulling her back while she tries to explain. “He’s a werewolf I went to school with. He’s Derek’s packmate,” he adds when Andrea frowns, “The twins, Lydia and I are celebrating New Years with them.”

Andrea says something in Polish that Stiles clearly does not like, but once more Aleksander interrupts.

Asia, Derek notes, has long since left the conversation.

“That sounds nice. By the way, where did you get that necklace? It’s so pretty, I was thinking of getting a similar one for Asia.” 

No way. No way was this slimy weak and useless wolf going to gift his own mate with something that Derek–

“Oh, my boyfriend gave this to me,” Stiles says, drawing Derek and his thoughts to a stop. Stiles looks completely unfazed, playing with the necklace with a finger, but his scent is all pride-affection-satisfaction. 

“Boyfriend?” Andrea loudly repeats, while Aleksander looks both confused and surprised. “Boyfriend?” The next words are all in Polish, and again Derek feels like they’re very rude.

Stiles answers in Polish too, and then, without further explanation, turns the screen of the phone to face Derek.

“Derek Hale,” Stiles adds, still in that nonchalant-but-very-much-chalant tone. “My mate.”

Derek’s not too sure what Stiles said in Polish, but it does not matter. He finds he quite enjoys the way Aleksander stares at him wide eyed and open mouthed, while Andrea looks like she’s about to have a heart attack and her eye keeps twitching.

Asia, who had re-appeared the second the word ‘boyfriend’ was spoken, looks delighted.

“Hello!” she says, waving at Derek. “Derek Hale, right? I’m Asia Newton. My son is the twin’s half sibling. Nice to meet you – again, I guess. Right, honey?”

“Uh...” Aleksander blinks. Asia flicks the back of his head very much not discreetly, and he seems to unfreeze, smiling too and waving. “I mean, yes. Holy shit, Sti, why didn’t you tell us? This is awesome, you know what this means?” His eyes are shining. “Double dates.”

Suddenly Derek understands exactly what Lydia was saying earlier about Aleksander never becoming an adult.

He decides this makes no difference and he doesn’t like him any more than before for it.

He chooses to enjoy Andrea’s expression instead after greeting Asia back, and the way she abruptly decides to excuse herself from the call.

Aleksander looks confused by his mother’s departure, and Asia gets control of the phone.

The next few minutes are Lydia, Stiles, Asia and Sabrina, for some reason, talking to each other about god knows what, but Derek could not have told you what that is/was.

“You’re so smug when you had nothing to even worry about to begin with,” Cora says, unimpressed. “Can you at least stop grinning like a cretin?”

“He told them I'm his boyfriend.”

“God, is this what you in love is going to be like?” Michelle complains. “I almost miss your moping and going crazy over hallucinating his scent all over New York.”

“The good old days,” Isaac adds, before ‘collapsing’ under Teo's attack.

“I wasn’t hallucinating,” Derek points out. “He was in New York.”

“Dear god, he’s going to be in love and smug forever,” Keith says, dramatically collapsing on the couch. “I’m going to kill myself.”

“Please livestream the event.”

Derek ignores them as they devolve in their usual bickering, still smiling a little stupidly as Stiles’ conversation over the phone continues.

He’s Stiles’ boyfriend!

“You know you don’t have to stay, right?”

Derek glances up as Stiles closes the door behind the now sleeping twins, a questioning expression on his face.

“You can join the others,” Stiles says. “Save a special babysitter willing to watch over the girls over the New Years, I don’t see many 'New Years going out with friends and drinking and partying' in my future. You–”

“I know what I signed up for when I decided to date a single father,” Derek says, putting his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him forward. “And how am I meant to have fun out there when you’re here?”

“Mr Hale,” Stiles says, trying to sound reproaching even as he puts his arms around Derek’s neck. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“As you said, I am your boyfriend.”

Stiles grins, looking proud. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“You let me know,” Derek says, pulling him even more flush against him, pressing his hardening cock against him. “You think I liked that?”

He has been half hard since their little make-out session at the other house. Then Stiles decided to call him his boyfriend and claim him as his mate to his ex, and followed it up by joining Keith and Michelle in making dinner, and being the perfect parent to the pups.

He has a feeling that even Sabrina could smell his arousal by the time she had left with the others, and Sabrina is human.

Stiles’ breath shakes at the next exhale, though he keeps his eyes on Derek in that same insolent and argumentative way of his.

“I don’t know,” he says, tilting his head upwards. “You tell me.”

Derek bites back the growl building in his throat, instead pressing his nose to the column of Stiles’ neck, taking a long and deep whiff of his scent that has the man trembling slightly in his hands.

The citrus lemon scent of Stiles’ arousal mixed with Stiles’ scent - that one unique timbre that Derek has been chasing all over New York for years – has his fangs threatening to drop.

He lets his tongue out, instead, and this time Stiles can’t help but moan at the feeling of it against the line of his throat, as Derek tries to taste every part of that mouth watering scent.

“God,” he says, lips still pressed against his throat. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

“S-show me, then,” Stiles says, voice breathy as he presses himself impossibly close to him. “Show me, Sourwolf.”

It turns out that while Derek does not appreciate orders, he has a weakness for Stiles issuing orders in that very specific tone of voice.

He finally leans away from Stiles’ neck, only to give himself space to pick him off the ground.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, wrapping his legs around his waist. “I swear I’ve had this dream in high school.”

“Dream about me often?” Derek asks, as he takes them towards his room.

“Don’t act like that’s a surprise,” Stiles says, managing to glare at him. “You were crowding me up against doors like a day into us knowing each other.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I’m saying it, so it’s got to be. Tell me one time I was wrong.”

Derek can’t actually remember the last – or the first, really – time Stiles was wrong about something. 

Instead of letting him win this by admitting, however, he just chooses to throw the man in his bed.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry,” Stiles says, eyes narrowed. “But...” He glances around the room, seemingly to study everything he can spot, eyes pausing over every trinket and object in the room.

It’s a marvel, watching him think and analyse things this way.

Derek has missed it.

Once he’s done with his inspection, Stiles focuses back on Derek again.

The blush has unfortunately faded from his face, but the way he lowers his eyelids as he leans back on his elbows, legs just a little spread, is even more intoxicating.

“So?”

“So?” 

Stiles raises an eyebrow, and god that has no reason to be this addicting. “You’re not showing me anything, big guy. Was this all just a ruse? I am disappointed.”

Derek puts one knee on the bed, still looming over the other man. “Well,” he says, eyes tracking Stiles’ tongue as it traces his lower lip once, then twice. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we–” he trails off as Derek advances forward, running his hands over his jeans until he gets to his waist. “Derek.”

Derek ignores him. 

He lets his hands go under the material of Stiles’ shirt, touching, learning every part of his skin.

He lets his fingers touch the hairs of his happy trail, stopping for a second when they touch a healed scar right above it. He’s confused for a moment, before he realises what the scar is.

When he does, he makes sure to meet Stiles’ eye as he leans down, letting his tongue trace the hairs of his happy trails and the scar from end to end.

“Derek,” Stiles repeats, arms shaking and his breathing coming a little faster than before.

The wolf lets his tongue drag farther up, over the round of his stomach. He’s not particularly heavier or rounder than he was in High School, but where before lacrosse and running for his life had made his muscles a little firmer and defined under all the baggy clothes he insisted on wearing, now there is only softness.

He has made an effort to not think about the twins and what their existence implies, but he can’t help but imagine it now. He can’t help but wonder if Stiles would do it again, how many times will Derek have to fuck him before his belly is full with their pups. How beautiful Stiles would look, pumped full of Derek’s seed, round and fat with their children, walking around the neighbourhood with Derek’s claim over him impossibly clear.

God, he wants it so bad.

The twins are already Hales, as far as Derek is concerned, but after everything that he has been truth, can there be enough Hales?

“Yes.”

Derek’s eyes snap back, and Stiles is watching him like he used to do when they were younger and dumber (but Stiles was still smarter, Stiles has always been the smartest), like Derek is nothing more than an open book he’s reading for fun.

“I will give you everything you want, Derek Hale,” Stiles says, because Stiles is still smarter, still the smartest, and he has never needed Derek to say anything. “Now come up here, and kiss me.”

Derek is only happy to oblige.

+++

“God,” Stiles says, the moment Derek slides into him.

The scent of sex, of arousal, of Stiles, and of StilesandDerek is heady, is thick in the room, enough to make Derek’s head spin, but it's still nothing in comparison to Stiles himself.

He is a vision.

Completely naked under him save for the necklace around his neck, the silver contrasting beautifully against his skin in the dim light of the room. His skin is glistening with sweat, splotches of red over his cheeks, his chest, his stomach. His lips are wet with saliva and pink with every kiss they have exchanged, hints of tears trapped in his long lashes. His neck is white and red, marked hard and thoroughly enough to be scandalous; his nipples, one revealing a previously hidden piercing, red and abused and promising to be sore tomorrow.

Derek is willing to put his hand in the fire right now and say that he has not seen anything as beautiful as Stiles right now in his entire life.

“Come on,” Stiles whines, the nails of his fingers sinking even deeper into Derek’s skin. “Derek, ngh, need–”

“I know what you need,” Derek promises, pushing himself deeper into him, sinking into his warmth. “God, you feel so good.”

How is it possible to feel as if he is both in heaven and hell at the same time? He isn't sure, but Stiles, still wet and slick from the lube, walls warm and tight as Derek slowly bottomed out make it feel so.

“Come on,” Stiles groans. “Not made of paper, Der. You can– oh.”

Derek slides out again, one hand on Stiles’ waist to hold him right where he wants him.

“Can,” he repeats, the snap of his hips as he sinks back making the man below him moan in pleasure. “Can what, baby?”

Stiles’ eyes snap open.

“Baby?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, thrusting in again with his eyes fixed on him. “Problem?”

“If I’m– oh, fuck,” his eyes shut again, before he forces them open, gasping. “If I’m baby, w-what are you?”

“Whatever– fuck, whatever Aleksander wasn’t.”

Stiles has the audacity to giggle. “He– he bothers you this– oh fuck, ah Der – this much?”

Derek leans down as he picks up the pace, mouth pressed against his ear.

“You’re mine,” he says, enjoying the full body shiver he gets for that. “You’ve always be mine. You’ll always be mine. His only good contribution to this world was giving you the girls, but he’s proven himself the inferior wolf and mate in every possible way. He cannot provide for you and the girls the way I can, can he?” Another thrust, the bed shaking under them as Stiles mewls in pleasure, quivering under him. “Can he?”

“No, fuck, no–”

“He can’t take care of you the way I do.”

“Nu-uh, oh...!”

“Not loyal like I am,” Derek adds, picking up pace again. “Not devoted. Doesn’t know you like I do. Not an alpha like I am. He’s the weaker wolf, the inferior mate, the worse parent. You deserve only the best.”

“Derek–”

“Yes,” he says, feeling the heat building as he fucks relentlessly into him. “You deserve the world. The universe. God, baby, I would give you the moon if I could. I would pluck the stars out of the sky and gift them to you.”

“S–sappy– Der, ah-ah,” Stiles moans, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Fuck. Sappy wolf...!”

“Sappy?” Derek bits his earlobe before letting his fangs out, letting them drag down his cheek and down the curve of his throat. Stiles shudders, but doesn't move away from the fangs, doesn't try to escape the threat of them so near his neck. “He can’t have you because you’re mine, Stiles. Aleksander knows, and by morning the entire neighbourhood will too. Every creature around will be able to smell me on you, see my marks on you.” Stiles’ moans grow in strength and Derek almost regrets soundproofing the room, now, seeing his reaction. He had had to think about Ellie and Teo, however, and how to ensure something like... this, didn’t wake them up. He makes a note of it for another time.

“They will know why you can’t walk straight anymore. They will know who you were with, and what you were doing. Everyone will know that you’re mine, that I can make you scream like nobody else can, and they will look at you, heavy an filled with cum and wonder if I fucked another baby into you.”

He feels Stiles’ shaking, can almost smell how close he is.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand wraps around Stiles’ purpling cock, the sound of his moans, the slap of Derek’s balls against his skin, and the rub of their skins together filling the room. “Walking around filled with my seed and my babies, the whole world knowing how badly you want me, how well I take care of you and my pack–”

Stiles comes with a cry with only a few thrust, body shaking all over as hot spurts hit Derek’s stomach and chest.

It drives Derek wild, the smell and feel of his come mixing with everything and pushing him over the edge. 

“Fuck!”

The world could end right there and then, he thinks, as he lets himself drop gently over Stiles, and he probably wouldn’t even mind.

Unfortunately, time has made Stiles mean because only minutes later, “Get off me,” he complains. “You’re heavy.”

“Not that heavy,” Derek says, even as he moves off of him, sliding out with a sound that makes Stiles cringe as he re-arranges them on the bed.

“Heavy enough.” He looks down at himself, nose twisting. “I’m gross.”

Derek traces the drips that came from him sliding out, pressing them over his skin with a finger.

“I don’t think you’re gross.”

“That’s because you’re gross,” Stiles says. “What even are you– ew. Dude.”

Derek ignores him, tracing a triskele over his skin with a finger, a satisfied rumble in his chest.

“You’re like such a possessive creep,” Stiles says, his sigh turning into a yawn. “A whole weirdo. I don’t know why I love you.”

Derek smiles, which has Stiles rolling his eyes.

“You’re weird,” he repeats. Then, after a couple of seconds, “Did you mean it?”

“100%,” Derek says. He has no idea what the it is, specifically, but he meant every part of what he said. Except, “The room is soundproofed.”

“I noticed when we came in,” Stiles says, snorting. “And by the lack of little feets and little claws trying to fight you off me.” He shifts on the bed, body contorting in a way Derek feels cannot possibly be comfortable.

He has the window behind him, and with the leftover Christmas lights still on in the background, he looks like an angel.

Then again, he doesn’t need any lights for that.

Derek uses his clean(ish) hand to trace his cheek, down to his jaw, his neck, until his fingers catch on the necklace.

“I would give you everything you want,” he tells him. “Houses, cars, money, material goods.” A pause. “Children, if you’re serious about wanting more. My heart, if you needed it for whatever reason.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious,” Derek says, frowning. “I would give you a thousand diamond rings with the same ease I would give you my life.”

Stile stares at him, for another of those long long soul searching moments.

“You’re insane,” he decides.

“I love you.”

Stiles smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You are the superior mate,” he says, snickering at the sound that Derek might or might not make at this. “You’re so ridiculous. Now close your eyes, and go to sleep. Or are you going to stare at me as I sleep the entire night?”

Not the entire night, no.

He stares long enough for midnight to come, though, the fireworks to brighten the sky up, shining all sort of colours over Stiles and the necklace around his neck.

Derek falls asleep with the image of Stiles half covered by the blanket, traces of dry come he’d regret in the morning on his skin, neck and lips debauched, lights dancing over his skin and making the ruby of the necklace shine brighter, their scent all over the room, his heartbeat and that of the twins steady in his ears, and one thought in his head: 

I could get used to this.