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Stiles almost drops the phone after hanging up, his fingers, his entire being, numb. It can’t be real. Derek wouldn’t do this to him. To them. There’s no way. Right? Except… No. There’s no way.
He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Derek will be home soon, he’ll just ask. He’ll just put it out there. On the table. Figuratively. He’s going to be mature and ask Derek what the fuck is going on. He moves to the hallway and looks out the window for Derek’s arrival. Not yet.
Stiles starts pacing, biting his nails, pushing fantasies about putting Derek’s clothes on big pile and setting them on fire, and taking all his DVDs and snapping them in two and then stabbing them in the seats of his precious Camaro like Derek stabbed his heart, and asking the kids next door to play tic-tac-toe with a bunch of keys on the Camaro’s doors, and taking a couple cans of spray paint and writing every profanity he can think of on exterior of the car before painting the windows bright red so Derek will have to call for a tow and then have to explain what happened and–
Stiles takes another steadying breath. There’s no need for revenge fantasies, because he’s going to talk to Derek first. He can always have his revenge fantasies later. But he won’t need to, because this is all in his head. He tries to plan the conversation, tries to think of a good way to start, but the thoughts keep jumbling together.
When Derek finally arrives, Stiles is so far inside his own head he doesn’t realize the door is opening until he almost runs into it.
‘Derek!’ Stiles jumps back, stumbling over his own feet. Derek manages to catch him just in time.
‘Hey,’ Derek says. The beginnings of a smile are wiped away by a frown. He kicks the door shut, and his grip on Stiles’ arm gentles as he pulls him closer. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Fine,’ Stiles forces out. His brain must’ve made connections that aren’t real, because the face of the man before him, is not that of one who cheats. Right?
‘Stiles,’ Derek admonishes him gently.
Stiles sighs. Derek has always been able to see through his bullshit.
They sit down in the living room. Stiles feels small, his mind and heart too full to think straight. One part of him, the insecure and scared part, keeps insisting that all those suspicions he are right; and the other part of him, the one that tells him he has nothing to worry about, is having a harder time being heard every second.
‘Erica called,’ he finally says. ‘She’s pregnant.’
‘That’s great! When did she find out? What did she say?’ Derek’s face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Like he just got the present he’s always wanted. Stiles tries not to let it feed those suspicions.
‘I–‘ Stiles’ voice stocks. His breaths come out fast and short, and he blinks furiously when Derek’s face blurs a little.
‘Stiles? Stiles, what’s going on?’ Derek asks. He moves closer, but doesn’t touch Stiles, knows he doesn’t like it at moments like this. His voice is like a gentle caress when he says, ‘Talk to me.’
Stiles grabs one of the throw pillows and pulls it into his lap. He watches his fingers play with a loose thread.
‘The past couple months I could smell Erica’s heat on your shirts. I didn’t think anything of it, because when a heat’s really bad Alpha pheromones help, and Boyd is a Beta, and you’re their friend, so of course you would help. But then Erica called to say she was pregnant and before she hung up she said: “Tell Derek thank you”.’
‘Did you really think I would do that to you?’ Derek asks. There is no accusation in his voice.
Stiles shakes his head. ‘I didn’t. Not really. But the thoughts wouldn’t stop coming. I couldn’t get them out of my head, so I figured I’d ask you, but then I couldn’t ask right that second because you weren’t home, and my brain just kind of…’ He waves his hands around, trying to convey the jumble of his thoughts. He looks up. Derek is looking at him, not with hurt exactly, more like empathy, like he’s trying to imagine how much Stiles is hurting right now. He wraps his hands around Derek’s. ‘I never really thought you’d do something like that. But my brain is a dick sometimes.’
‘I know.’ Derek lifts their hands and places a kiss on Stiles’ fingers. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
‘I do have a question, though?’
Derek raises his eyebrows, telling Stiles do go ahead.
‘What exactly is Erica thanking you for?’
‘Uhm.’ Derek is blushing, and he pulls one of his hands free to rub the back of his neck. ‘Because I did sort of help.’
Stiles raises his eyebrows.
‘They’d been trying for a while, but kept failing. The doctor suggested it might be because Boyd’s a Beta and his pheromones are not as compatible with Erica’s Omega pheromones, that it might not work, or would take a while to work, so…’
‘So you gave them a couple extra shirts so they could have sex on them?’ Stiles asks. ‘Or boxers?’
‘Not exactly. That didn’t work.’ Derek is bright red and he can’t look Stiles in the eye.
‘Oh my god!’ Stiles exclaims, finally understanding. ‘You had to be in the room while they had sex?’
Derek looks pained, and it’s the only answer Stiles needs. He bursts out laughing.
‘Fuck, that must’ve been so awkward,’ he smirks. ‘What did you do? Listen to music and read while they were making a baby?’
‘Basically,’ Derek mumbles. He shoves lightly at Stiles’ shoulder. ‘Stop laughing. Those were the worst three days of my life!’
Stiles presses a hand over his mouth, but he can’t keep it in.
‘Stop!’ Derek says, but he’s started laughing too. ‘It was two weeks before I could look them in the eye again.’
Stiles collapses against him. It feels so good to laugh. Stupid brain. He knew he had nothing to worry about. When his laughter has died out and he has most of his breath back, he pulls Derek into his side, and rests his head against Derek’s.
‘You’re a great friend,’ he says, running his hands through Derek’s hair.
‘They’re gonna make us godparents,’ Derek murmurs.
‘Well, duh. They’re kind of your child, too, you helped make them. Which makes them kind of my child.’
‘You ready for parenthood?’
‘Godparenthood,’ Stiles corrects. They’ve talked about kids, but neither of them is sure yet if it’s something they want. ‘Which basically means we get to spoil them rotten, and take over whenever Erica and Boyd need some time for themselves. So ready for that.’
‘Yeah.’
They sit in silence for a minute, until Derek shoots off the couch.
‘Shit, I need to call them to congratulate them,’ he says, and starts patting himself down in search of his phone.
‘I’ll get dinner ready while you do that,’ Stiles says, pushing himself up with reluctance. He was really comfortable.
As he walks to the kitchen he listens to Derek’s excited congratulations to the expecting couple.
Yeah, Derek is pretty great.