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Melissa stares at the third little stick in growing shock. It's got a plus sign. They're all positive.
Jesus, she's nearly forty years old. This can't be happening. They used condoms every single time.
...
Except for that time after the thing with the ghouls. That time in the backseat of his cruiser when they were so mindless they didn't do more than shove down their pants and kiss each other senseless.
Senseless. Yeah, that was it.
Slumping against the bathroom counter, Melissa's not even aware of the stampede of teenage feet up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom until the bathroom door opens.
"Oops, sorry mom, need the first aid kit. Stiles got..." Scott's voice dies away as he stares at the three pregnancy tests spread between her fingers.
Stiles runs into Scott's back, bounces off with a loud complaint, then looks over his shoulder and turns bright red. "Yeah, um...I'll just bleed to death, 'k?" He starts to back out of the bathroom, only stopping when Scott reaches back and grabs his arm like his life depends on him staying.
"Mom?" Scott gulps.
"Shit," she mutters, then takes a deep breath, tosses away the tests and turns to wash her hands. "Boys, there's something I need to tell you."
As she says it, the doorbell rings, and she mutters another curse, because, of course, he's off shift and it's still nearly an hour until Stiles would expect him home for dinner because there's always extra paperwork that keeps him in the office.
Or so John Stilinski lies to his son so that he and Melissa can have these trysts in secret from their nosy kids.
"Something we need to tell you," she amends and turns back to face two red-faced teenagers. "Downstairs. Scott, get the door and let the Sheriff in."
"Whu?" Stiles asks intelligently as Scott goes rigid.
"Mom?"
"Both of you, out. I need a minute."
They stumble out and she closes the door, leaning against it, trying not to snort as Stiles babbles, "Dude, your mom's knocked up. How is that possible? I mean, she's your mom!"
There's a smack and an 'ow' from the younger Stilinski, and Melissa really hopes his father isn't as clueless about this. Actually, she's kind of amazed Scott put two and two together before Stiles did, when his response is, "Your dad. God. That's just...ew..."
"Whu?"
Snorting again, Melissa takes a few deep breaths, gets herself under control, and leaves the bathroom to confront her lover of nearly a year and their two nearly grown sons.
Or, more likely be confronted, as Scott's outraged, "You knocked up my mom!" drifts up the stairs which she dashes down to stop werewolf on Sheriff violence. But all she finds is John staring at her, eyes wide, face flushed, but...something pleased in his expression, and she finds herself smiling. Passing a gobsmacked Stiles, she goes into his father's arms.
"Mel?"
"Um, yeah, geez, thanks Scott!" Her son has the grace to look embarrassed.
"Mel?" John asks again, arms going around her waist. "Do you have something to tell me?"
"I think I'm having an aneurism," Stiles mumbles as he drags Scott into the living room.
"He's not having an aneurism," Melissa assures John who just snorts about that. "And, yeah, I'm pregnant."
"...Ghouls?"
"Yep."
"Um...Are you okay with it?"
"Yep."
A brilliant smile crosses his face. "Then I am, too."
Kissing, they ignore the gagging sounds from the living room.
End