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“Daddy, why’s Papa smeyyo bad?”
Derek carried Teo down the stairs to the kitchen but before he’d secured him in his chair and lowered the tray Teo repeated his question.
Answering with just, “Papa smells bad because he has a cold, Teo,” Derek didn’t think to explain further.
“Make ‘im hot, Daddy!”
Getting their toddler to understand the very important differences between his human Papa and werewolves like his daddy and himself was an ongoing project—but possibly a lesser challenge than getting him to understand that words can mean more than one thing.
“Remember,” Derek began as he set down a sippy cup of juice and poured some dry Cheerios into a small bowl, “the other day when we went to Big Poppa’s house and Big Poppa didn’t smell OK and Papa was fussing at him to drink his tea and eat his soup?”
Teo nodded, lip pouting out. It had made him feel sad to hear his papa talking like that to Big Poppa. Nobody was smiling like they always did when they went to Big Poppa’s.
“Big Poppa had a cold. He didn’t feel good. He was sick.—People who don’t have wolves inside can get sick.”
Teo listened, wide-eyed, whether comprehendingly or not Derek didn’t know.
The Sheriff, being who he was, had returned to the job sooner than any doctor would have recommended, but he was not the kind of man to let some measly little germ lay him low for long. A few shots of strong whiskey, which Stiles didn’t know about, had done the trick—burned that cold right out of him.
Two days later Stiles woke to a raw, scratchy throat, scoffed at Derek’s pleas that he take it easy, and went through a bag of lozenges in a day, chewing them up like candy. His scent had already soured and throughout the night before he’d woken up groaning, Derek waking every time Stiles did.
“So now Papa has a cold too and he doesn’t feel good.—”
“Noooo!” Teo cried.
“Tay, it’s gonna be OK,” Derek assured his pup, stroking the boy along his shoulders while he comforted. “Papa’ll be OK in a few days. He needs to sleep and drink lots of tea.”
“An’ eat soup!” Teo added, though he couldn’t remember what “soup” was.
“Soup later,” Derek said, pulling bowls and pans from cabinets, but he kept talking.
“We’ll make Papa tea now. So, eat your O’s. Daddy’s cooking you an egg and some toast. Then we’ll go upstairs and help Papa feel OK again. OK?”
“OK,” Teo answered, but he felt sad, and Daddy smelled sad, and Papa was still upstairs, not coming down because he was cold, not there making funny faces and noises so Teo would laugh.
Teo ate his O’s, slowly, one by one, because he was hungry even if he was sad too.
With a mug of tea in one hand and Teo propped in his other arm, Derek returned to the bedroom. Stiles had stacked up the pillows and lay back on them, his eyes closed.
Teo, who’d been told to keep very quiet so Papa could sleep, could not hold back a whimper or the little cry, “Papa!”
Involuntarily Derek shushed him but Stiles’s eyes opened and “’M not ‘sleep,” he said, his voice much deeper than usual.
Derek lowered Teo onto the bed while he went around it to set down the tea. Teo scooted right to Stiles, who turned to his side, reaching out for his son.
“Hey, baby boy. Did you have your breakfast?”
Teo’s nodding yes got lost as he snuggled firmly against his papa, whose croaky voice sounded almost like he was growling. Teo would love if his papa growled—but maybe it was because he was cold, which Teo did not love.
Derek confirmed he’d fed their child, then had to smile when Teo stretched an arm over Stiles as much he could, telling him, “I make you hot, Papa.”
“We’re still working on the distinction between cold and a cold,” Derek said.
“Guess I’m gon’ be his object lesson,” Stiles grumbled, which made Derek wince to think how much his husband’s throat hurt.
From his place comfortably tucked alongside, Teo looked at Stiles and announced, after a pause, “Papa, I hafta poop.”
“OK.”
Without further thought Stiles started to rise, legs bumping into Derek’s before he managed to achieve a sitting position on the bedside.
“What are you doing?” Derek scolded.
“Taking our child to the toilet—”
“Stay in bed! I’ll take him.”
Derek blocked Stiles’s further movement.
“I can take him,” Stiles insisted, still attempting, feebly, to right himself.
Even though Derek knew better than to provoke a show of Stilinski stubbornness, he gently pressed Stiles’s shoulder, encouraging him to flatten again.
“I’ll take him—”
“I’ve got a sore throat,” Stiles renewed his protest. “I’m not paralyzed. I can carry out my parental obligations.” Though the effort of merely arguing had nearly drained what energy he had.
“It’s your parental obligation to get back to health… isn’t it?” Derek ventured.
“You’re impossible,” Stiles rasped.
“I’m impossible?”
“I hafta poop!” Teo reminded them.
Carefully lifting him from beside Stiles, Derek hurried Teo to the bathroom.
Since Derek left the door open Stiles could hear their talking, mostly Teo’s strident voice and Derek’s murmured answers.
Teo was quite the conversationalist on his toilet seat. It made Stiles smile.
When he heard the toilet flush Stiles got from bed—this time unhampered—because he had to pee.
By the time he’d shuffled to the door, “Papa, you OK!” Teo gleefully shouted—though Papa still didn’t smell OK.
“Where are you going?”
“Dancing,” Stiles snarked, walking past his husband toward the bathroom.
Derek lowered Teo to the floor and the toddler immediately took Stiles’s hand.
“Papa, heeya.” He led Stiles to and then pointed at the toilet, “Heeya, Papa,” helpfully.
“Might be pee-shy if our two-year-old’s standing right here observing,” Stiles told Derek after a few seconds.
Derek scooped up the boy again and Stiles pushed the door part-way closed to do his business.
“Daddy,” Teo whispered, not too much softer than his usual pitch, “Papa’s OK now.”
“Tay, Papa feels a little better, but he still has a cold.”
Teo seemed to ponder that news for a few seconds then started wriggling, his long-standing signal he wanted down.
Derek set him on the floor, ready to intercept if he headed for the bathroom. Instead Teo ran into the bedroom and Derek heard him enter his little room, thumping and rustling sounds following.
Guiding Stiles back to the bed Derek sat him down on the side, handed him the mug of tea, insisting, “Drink it. Drain it.”
“Ooh, so commanding,” Stiles insinuated.
After a few sips, “What is this?” he grimaced.
“Oh, you know, some eye of newt, toe of frog.”
“Tastes like it.”
“We don’t have any chamomile—”
“Good. That shit’s disgusting.”
Derek’s failure to respond meant just one thing. Stiles tipped up his eyes to his husband’s steady glare.
“Sorry. You’re being good to me. Sorry I’m such a diiiiiiiii—”
Teo bounced back from his room, arms full of plush animals.
“—Ficult person,” Stiles mid-course corrected.
The attempt to get his furry friends on the bed resulted in their dropping to the floor. One by one Teo piled them on the bedside.
“Do we know what’s happening here?” Stiles asked Derek, voice low.
“Tay?” Derek prepared to question, but Teo ran back to his room.
Derek had more important questions. “I’m going to the store. What kind of tea would you prefer?”
“Cheetos,” Stiles answered.
More grave silence.
“Don’t get tea, get me Gatorade. Glacier Freeze. Lots of it.”
“And if they don’t have that one?”
“Anything blue.”
On his second return Teo had more animals in his arms, this time also trailing one of his blankies, a fleece one adorned with New York Mets logo.
“Teo, what are you doing, pup?”
Derek helped him get his arm load atop the bed then hoisted him onto it too.
“I hep make papa hot!”
Cutting off Derek before he could question further, “I wanna see how this develops,” Stiles said.
“Papa, yay down.”
“What do we say when we ask people to do things, Tay?”
Teo squinted, answered, “Pease.”
“That’s right. That’s good,” Stiles’s voice rumbled as he reclined against the pillows again.
Teo started outlining Stiles’s side with his plush menagerie, Henny the horsey, Pinky the yifint, Panta Bear, an anonymous teddy. Stiles moved his arm out of the way so Teo could extend his line. Missy Mousey, Teo’s current preferred sleeping buddy, he perched on his papa’s shoulder, next to his head.
A few he laid on his papa’s chest.
It seemed too much to Derek, concerned for mate even under the ministrations of their child.
“Teo,” he cautioned.
Stiles shushed him.
Spreading the blanket called for Derek’s assistance. Finally smoothed out, it covered Stiles’s midriff and barely reached his knees.
“You hot now, Papa?”
“Well,” Stiles couldn’t resist, “your daddy thinks so.”
“Stiles!” Derek hissed, but Teo was looking at him, earnestly awaiting confirmation.
Outnumbered, Derek took up Stiles’s hand and sandwiched it between his. After a few seconds of pretend deep thought and a genuinely deep look into Stiles’s eyes, he began, “Yes, Teo, Papa’s hot,” which was no lie, “but he still needs—”
Teo lunged from his kneeling position onto Stiles’s chest, sending the animals there flying. Stiles grunted at the impact, but he was more and more convinced life with werewolves was endowing him with a little supernatural durability too. Teo’s body heat felt comfortable anyway, compensating for the mini body slam.
Stiles’s finger in the air stopped Derek’s protest, while Teo wiggled till he was securely in place, hugging his papa.
“You may regret encouraging that when he’s fifty pounds and still jumping on you,” Derek argued.
“Hey, you weigh at least two hundred and fifty pounds and I still encourage you to jump on m—”
“Stiles!” Derek whined, though why Stiles’s express route from brain to mouth still surprised him remained a mystery.
He realized there’d be no winning any argument that day. Instead he switched tacks.
“Teo, why don’t you come with Daddy to the store.”
“I stay wi’ Papa,” Teo answered, tightening his hug.
Derek gave up, headed to the bathroom to wash before dressing.
“You know soon as he hears you putting your jacket on he’s gonna want to go with you,” Stiles announced.
Encouraged, Derek picked up where he’d left off, “Teo, if you come with me we’ll buy things so Papa feels even better.”
“Soup!”
“Please don’t buy me soup, Derek, anything but soup.”
“Not even… wonton?”
Stiles loved wonton soup, so his protest died on his lips. Derek pressed his advantage, promising Teo they’d get oranges and yogurt and that he could pick what to eat for dinner.
“Go with Daddy. You like going to the store,” Stiles prompted the boy.
The little wheels appeared to be turning before Teo answered, “OK!”
“But you can’t go to the store in your pj’s.”
Teo giggled at how silly that would be and repeated, “OK!”
“Can I at least get him dressed, Dr. Hale?”
Derek had resigned himself to the fact one thing he could never protect Stiles from was Stiles himself. Besides, it was just a sore throat. Maybe he was being ridiculously overprotective.
Of course Stiles didn’t need to know that, even as Derek relented.
Teo was so happy Papa was doing things he always did, helping Teo into his shirt and pants and shoes. Still, when two of the three Stilinski-Hales were ready for their grocery excursion, Derek hurried them out the door before the pup could reconsider the idea of leaving without his papa.
When they returned later, it was to the sight of Stiles on the couch asleep, hugging Missy Mousey.
Two mornings later Teo opened his eyes to see his papa looking over him beside his crib.
Seconds later Stiles had a little werewolf clinging to him, though still too sleepy to speak.
“Good morning, baby boy,” he chuckled, though Teo only kept his nose pressed into Stiles’s neck and kept silent.
He let go long enough for a diaper change and quick wipe down, then was content with Stiles’s arm securing him for transport to the kitchen.
Papa’s scent was OK again, at last. Teo was so pleased with that, news of pancakes for breakfast didn’t get his usual euphoric reaction.
“Teo?” Stiles questioned. “You don’t want pancakes? With blueberries? Bluebs?”
He put a little bowl of them on Teo’s tray.
“Bleubs” was the funniest word Teo ever heard, setting off giggles before he could answer Papa’s question and switching Teo from sleepy baby to wide awake toddler in an instant.
“Does that mean yes?”
Already chewing berries, “Yash, Papa! Byoops!” he answered
“Pancakes too?”
“Yash!—An’ f’ Daddy too!”
“Let’s let Daddy sleep a little bit more. He took care of me and you for three whole days!”
“Daddy comin’ now.”
“What?”
Sure enough Stiles heard Derek’s footsteps on the stairs. Catching Stiles in a close hug was his first act once in the kitchen, then kissing Teo on the head, with a pause for a blueberry from between Teo’s fingertips into his mouth.
“You happy this morning, pup?”
Of course he was and Derek knew precisely why.
“Papa sayd byoops!” set off another round of giggles.
Derek headed toward the coffee brewer but once near Stiles at the stove, veered that way to embrace him again, from behind. Stiles ignored the hug at first, because seconds make all the difference with pancakes. When he’d poured the next batch he rotated, face to face.
Also pelvis to pelvis.
“Ooh, someone’s up early!” Stiles crooned. “You must be really backed up down there, eh, big guy?”
“I’ve managed,” Derek rumbled, his face in Stiles’s hair.
“Dad’s at the station today. Maybe grandma and grandpa would like some company this afternoon, while we run some errands?”
“If you say it that way they’ll know you’re lying even through the phone.”
“Fine.—While we’re takin’ care of some bee-eye-izness?” Stiles repeated, with editorial but no less telltale revision.
“The pancakes, Stiles.”
Whirling around, “Shee—ee—eep!” Stiles swore. Luckily Derek’s nose had saved them from burning.
Handing Derek a plate with the first batch, “These are for Teo. Get your sexy self over there and feed our boy before you make me scorch our breakfast,” Stiles said. “I’ll bring you your coffee!”
He kissed Derek’s lips.
From the kitchen’s other side Teo had watched his fathers hug. That was good. Everything was good when Papa and Daddy hugged and made that special smell, which Teo knew meant they were happy.
Then Daddy put down a plate of pankits on Teo’s tray. He started to feed him but Teo eagerly crammed a cut up piece in his mouth before Derek got the first forkful there.
Stiles observed. “They taste OK?”
Teo nodded and gave a pancake-filled grin.
“You honor me with your approval, good sir!” Stiles intoned with extreme affectation before bowing deeply.
Papa was so funny! Teo didn’t understand anything he’d just heard, but Papa said it funny, and then he’d leaned way over, and that was funny too. It called for Teo slapping both hands down on his tray top, rattling everything on it, which Derek had seen coming but which startled Stiles.
“Yo, there, dude!” he laughed. “What’s that about?”
“Happiness overload,” Derek explained.
Teo would’ve agreed—if a two-year-old’s mind comprehended concepts like that, or any concept at all. But he didn’t, so he just opened wide for another piece of blueberry pancake, chomping with pleased hums and swinging his feet, happy to let his daddy help him eat now because that meant Teo could keep on looking at his papa and that was what he really wanted to do.