Chapter Text
Deaton had told him - back when he had come up with this insane excuse of a plan - that belief and the will of the caster was the major component to the success of what he was trying to achieve.
Stiles had never believed as hard as he did at that moment. He had no choice. He wasn’t a clairvoyant but even he knew that his pack - his family - would not survive this fight.
It was the same as the times before: Big bad arrived, caused chaos, the pack fought and they won. However unlike other times, they weren’t winning. Another pack had decided to take their chance with the Beacon Hills pack and for once the Beacon Hills contingent has underestimated their opponents. Stiles could see the fight from the corner of his eye as he chanted the words he needed and could see Scott and Derek were about to lose. About to die at the hands of another Alpha. With a burst of emotion at the new realisation of just how deep in the shit they were, Stiles continued.
While Stiles had full belief in his pack: he was also realistic in the fact that one day they would come across something which would out-power and out-smart them. That’s why he developed himself under Deaton’s guidance. Originally he thought that the 'spark' Deaton had mentioned would be of benefit to him. When the man unveiled that it was, in fact, useless Stiles still persevered with the understanding that he may be the packs last hope. He had begun his training at 18 and now at 26 was able to hold his own, wolves beside him or not.
Which was why he was now incased within a hastily dirt drawn circle with emblems surrounding him, casting a call for help. For a divine intervention to protect and fight for his pack. He felt the breath being punched out of him as the spell took place, his call answered.
Closing his eyes and fighting against the overwhelming feeling of nausea, Stiles tried to picture who or what he had summoned. A giant, a wizard...hell even an orc. Instead when he opened his eyes he was greeted with the sight of two men lying a few feet in front of him.
On closer inspection they were actually grappling with each other. The one lying on top was trying to put the other in a headlock while the bottom one pulled his hair while slapping him in the face.
Stiles was, to put it mildly, disappointed.
"I told you, that was my cheesecake! No wonder you’re fat!" shouted the guy on top, who had now given up on the headlock and was now fighting the other slap for slap.
"Snooze you lose lard-ass. Your name wasn’t on it." replied the other man.
"Yes it was. It clearly said on the label it was mine and you weren’t even meant to look at it. Bet you ate that as well just like you do with everything of mine!"
The slapping momentarily stopped as the man (the one who had apparently eaten this cheesecake) sat up with an indignant look on his face "Oh my god dude that was ONE time. ONE! Get over it. I bought you another."
Before a retort could be uttered, Stiles weakly batted his hand in Scott and Derek’s direction "Erm....little help??"
When the two men turned to look at him Stiles was surprised to find that they weren’t men but teenagers. He only had to briefly wonder what in the hell divine intervention thought it was doing before he received his answer when the men....boys...turned to face the fight. Two loud roars were released before they sprinted to the rival alpha who was currently straddling a fallen Derek with his hand around this throat, preparing to rip it out.
With a speed and grace that no other pack member had, the boys had managed to tag-team the alpha with a series of assaults and air maneuvers which left the man speechless and also a bit dead. Within no time the rest of the rival pack was either dead or had run away.
Once the dust had settled, everyone turned in shock to face the newbies who were oblivious to the stares. Instead they congratulated themselves with a series of high-fives, fist pumps and back slaps. Stiles watched as they made their way over to him, still on a high of adrenaline after the fight. It wasn’t until one of them (The cheese-cake thief) turned to him that the silence was broken.
"Pops did you see that?!? We were fucking...arg sorry....fudging amazing. He was all like, rawr and we were like no, not today!"
It took a while for Stiles to fully connect with the words that boy had spoken to him, mind going blank as the boy rattled on about the fight giving him a play-by-play account as if he hadn’t been there kneeling on the ground as it had occurred. All he could hear was 'pops, pops, pops' repeating in his head. Looking around his pack as if to confirm what he had heard, he was meet with some shocked faces and some confused ones.
The confused ones were currently looking towards the other boy (the cheese-cake owner) as he walked up to Derek with a hopeful look on his face "Was that ok Dad? I mean we messed up the kick combo but I think we did ok..."
Stiles hoped to god his face was nowhere near resembling the look Derek had on his at that present moment. But in all honesty, he is pretty sure Derek was a mirror image of him.
Taking a deep breath Stiles tried to organise his thoughts 'Ok, ok I have somehow magic'd my child and Derek’s child from the future. It's ok Stiles, it’s all going to be o....'
His inner pep-talk was destroyed by the cake ruiner as he turned and walked towards Derek "Yo Dad, you don’t still live in the train do you??"
Stiles thought for a second that he physically felt the punch the other boy gave his...brother?...but quickly realised it was his own stomach turning.
Christ what had he done.
The silence seemed to seep into every pore of the forest as everybody tried to take in what had just happened. So all in all, Stiles could be forgiven for the shock when he realised that it was Derek - the wolf who never met a sentence he liked - who broke the silence.
He pointed to himself "Dad?"
The boys nodded their heads.
Derek pointed to Stiles "Pops?"
The boys nodded again.
Derek seemed to take after his sons as he nodded to himself, retreating back into his own head while avoiding Stile's gaze.
Lydia spoke up this time, looking towards Scott and Derek "Are they telling the truth?"
Scott glanced towards Stiles before he slowly nodded "It’s...their heartbeats aren’t skipping and they just, smell different but it reminds me of you. Both of you."
Stiles stared at them in shock, fully analyzing the teenagers in front of him.
"How?" Derek asked, brow raised in questioning. The boys looked at each other in confirmation before the cake thief spoke up for them.
"Pops sperm, Aunt Cora's egg and a surrogate. No Pops, no ass-babies in your future." Stiles resented the snort of laughter from Malia even as he breathed a small sigh of relief.
Deciding to finally stand, Stiles addressed the two "Ok I can’t keep calling you cake thief and cake owner" Stiles ignored the glare the two lads shot at each other "so names would be good."
The cake owner cleared his throat “Chris”
“Zack” the cake thief stated.
Stiles clapped his hands together “Right so…Chris and Zack? Yeah ok, so we need to figure out what to do with you guys and I need to figure out how to tell Dad he is a Grampa without him attempting to shot a hole into Derek’s face so let’s go.”
Stiles turned and walked towards the parked cars, lamenting his decision earlier that day to catch a ride with Derek while his Jeep was getting fixed. It was only when the four of them piled into the car and they were heading to Stiles Dad’s home that Stiles finally addressed Derek for the first time since everything happened.
“Well……..At least we know now our genes together make fucking handsome children.”
Stiles couldn’t help but be proud when Derek nodded in agreement.