Chapter Text
They say that love transcends time. That love will always find a way. That love will endure.
Stiles Stilinski finds that total and complete utter bullshit.
He had a love that described all those things. He had his ‘great’ love. They were happily married together for exactly eleven months. One month into their marriage, Stiles had a bun in the oven. Up the duff. With pup. Or should he say… pups. Plural.
Male omegas were rare, yes, but they still had the parts to carry and give birth. And Stiles did.
One month of bliss and then it was nine months of swollen ankles, throwing up at the slightest smell, horniness like you wouldn’t believe, and weight gain so he looked like a whale.
His Alpha, Derek Hale, was there by his side through it all. Through the tears and cursing and pain and threats. Until he wasn’t there.
The split was a little sudden and quick. Only three weeks before Derek was gone.
Stiles had just given birth to twin boys. James and Lucas Stilinski-Hale. Both boys had their Dad’s blue-green eyes and their daddy’s pale skin and dark moles dotting them. Their hair was a beautiful shade of black. Identical. The only way to tell them apart was their moles. James had them across his back. Lucas had a few on his face.
Stiles was exhausted from the birth and nightly feedings. He was tired of tripping over Derek’s shoes and the clothes he left in the bathroom. One too many times of tripping and catching himself on the edge of the counter when he went to pee and the beginning of the end started.
Fights broke out every day, growing terser and terser until Stiles had enough. He kicked Derek from their home. Stiles only meant for the day but Derek took it literally.
Derek left for New York City three weeks later and he took Lucas with him.
Stiles had custody of James Stilinski. Derek had custody of Lucas Hale. They parted. Never to see each other again.
Stiles broke down the night Derek left. James would not stop crying and screaming. He sobbed to his best friend Scott who helped him get to a therapist for postpartum depression. Who knew that was an actual thing?
It took over four months of treatments before he was back to the way he was before the pregnancy. Well, almost. Derek and Lucas were still gone.
Stiles felt ashamed and didn’t dare try to reach out to them.
…
That’s a lie. He tried but Derek had taken over his uncle’s company and was a new CEO with some dark-haired girl on his arm. Stiles couldn’t take that from him.
Scott had prodded and pressed him to contact Derek. Stiles kept refusing. It came to a head that first Christmas without Derek and Lucas. Stiles and Scott got into a fight so huge that Stiles started crying. Stiles left the McCall’s house before dinner was even served with James by his side.
They didn’t talk until the New Year.
The two friends made up and Stiles swore to Scott that there would be no mentioning of Derek or Lucas until Stiles deemed it was okay. As far as James would ever know, Stiles was his only father and he was an only child.
It hurt so freaking much but Stiles knew he screwed up big time and Derek would most likely want nothing to do with him ever again. Stiles hurt Derek so badly with the words he had thrown out. There would be no recovery of that relationship.
Slowly the years passed. James grew from a small infant to a grumpy toddler to an equally grumpy quiet child. He was his father’s son. Down to the scowly danger brows.
Stiles lied to his son for the first time when he was five. He had just started school and came back with questions about his other dad. Stiles had lied and told him he was special. A bird brought him to Stiles and that was a secret.
James accepted that answer. He went off to watch his cartoons on the TV. Stiles hid in the bathroom and cried for ten minutes.
Fall turned into winter and winter into spring, spring to summer. Round and round the seasons went.
James went from a grumpy quiet child to a dramatic almost teenager. James was eleven when everything changed.
That summer, Stiles had a big case he was working on. So he found an eight-week camp in Colorado for James to go to.
Stiles hugged him tightly, he may have cried a few tears to the exasperation of James, and let his eleven-year-old son fly on an airplane alone for the first time in his life. James was really mature for his age so Stiles let him go without too much fuss.
That didn’t stop him from having an FBI agent friend also on the plane and would follow him until he was safely at Camp Weaver.
Stiles got in his car and prayed that everything would be okay for his boy. Stiles' heart ached for his other son but knew he was perfectly safe with Derek in New York City.
Oh, how wrong he was.
*****
James Stilinski sighed when he spotted the special agent his Dad had following him. His dad was super paranoid but James couldn’t hold it against him. If he knew all of the things his dad saw at work, then he didn’t think he would be able to sleep at night.
As it is, James kept some secrets from his dad. Like the fact that Uncle Scott let him have soda when Dad won’t let him. Or that Grandpa took him out for burgers and curly fries once a week and they told Dad that they were at the station. Or the picture he had of his other Dad that he found in Uncle Scott’s bedroom that he let him keep.
His other dad looked a lot like him. He had James' hair color, his eye color and they had the same jawline. James had his dad’s nose and mole-spotted pale skin. Dad and Grandpa called them beauty marks but James was eleven and claimed they were moles. He was lucky his moles were on his back and not his face like his dad.
James opened the side pouch on his backpack, making sure the picture was still there. It was. He zipped up his backpack and sighed softly.
James stared out the window at the mountains. He thought there would be more snow. When you picture Colorado, you always imagine snow, don’t you? It was summer though so maybe the snow wouldn’t come back until winter. James wanted there to be snow. He thinks he might like to snowboard.
The car that was following the bus slowed to a stop when they passed under a sign proclaiming the land as Camp Weaver.
It was kind of cool of his dad to let him go to a camp three states away for eight weeks. It was less cool to have an FBI agent tail him from California to Colorado to the camp.
James was distracted by the clear blue lake nestled between green pine and aspen trees and little log cabins. That was so awesome! He couldn't wait to show off his wakeboarding skills.
His grandpa was the sheriff but was retired and now owned a boat that he fished from or to let Dad and James take it out for wakeboarding.
Beacon Hills had an awesome lake deep in the Preserve. Like so deep you had to hike for two hours to reach it.
James grabbed his suitcase and exited the bus. He took a deep breath of the mountain air. He grinned.
This was the best. No dad for eight weeks. He could eat all the junk food he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted. If he wanted to swim in the lake all day there was no dad to tell him to get out before he was eaten by the lake monster. If he wanted to eat a bunch of chips, there was no dad to portion it out and make sure that he only had a snack-sized amount.
James headed for where everyone else was gathering. He needed his bunk assignment. This was going to be the best summer ever. He couldn’t wait for it to start.
***
Lucas Hale stared at the trees and cliffs passing the car as Uncle Peter drove him up the mountains to Camp Weaver.
Technically Uncle Peter was his Great Uncle Peter but Uncle Peter claimed it made him feel old to be called that. Dad would always laugh and call him an old man.
Lucas was excited about this trip but also a little nervous. He fiddled with the bag in his grip.
He was going to be gone for eight weeks without his dad or Aunt Malia or Uncle Peter or anyone familiar basically. Dad was probably worried. Dad was always worried. He and Lucas were all each other had.
Lucas knew he had another parent out there somewhere. Lucas had money. He could skip camp after Uncle Peter left and go find his other dad. He had a picture. He knew what he was looking for.
Lucas thought about the picture that Uncle Peter gave him for his latest birthday last year.
In the picture was a man with warm hazel amber eyes. With light brown hair that was tousled in a way, Lucas could never achieve. A man who had the same beauty marks as him stretched across his face. His other dad looked warm and soft as he smiled a bright grin at whoever was taking the picture. Lucas bet it was his own Dad. No way would anyone look that lovestruck at someone else other than their mate right?
Lucas sometimes hated his beauty marks. The one time Lucas covered them up with makeup, his dad got so sad. Lucas hated that his dad was sad all the time. He never dated despite all the people throwing themselves at him. It was kind of embarrassing at first to go out to lunch with his dad and have everyone hitting on him. Yes, Lucas knew what that meant. Aunt Malia was very easy to get to tell him about adult things.
“Easy, Pup.” Uncle Peter dropped his hand on Lucas’ and gave it a squeeze. “We are almost there. No need to strangle your bag.”
Lucas relaxed his death grip and glared at Uncle Peter for the childish nickname. “I’m not a pup anymore. I’m almost twelve.”
Uncle Peter just smirked back. It was annoying. Lucas wanted to smack him like Aunt Malia does sometimes.
“You will always be a pup to me unless you pull off something truly elaborate that will impress me.” Uncle Peter turned to face the road.
Lucas scowled darkly. “You are the worst Uncle Peter. I will never be able to do that unless there were two of me. One to distract you and one to do the actual pulling of the scheme.”
Lucas grinned as the camp sign came into view. He spotted a glimpse of a lake and trees and log cabins. He missed his Uncle Peter’s shocked and then thoughtful look.
“Oh look. We are here. I still say you should come with me to France this summer. We could see the sights. Visit a couple of vineyards. Explore the great city.” Uncle Peter parked the car behind a bus and a loud group of kids.
“No thanks, Uncle Peter. I want to come here. Is that a basketball court?” Lucas got out of the car and eagerly took in the sights. Kids were everywhere and adults were directing them. Trees were standing by the lake and Lucas couldn’t wait to get out on the water. He lived in New York City. Seeing this much nature was a massive treat and he had this for the next eight weeks.
“I believe so, Lucas.” Uncle Peter set his duffle bag on the ground. “Okay. Duffle, backpack, list of things your dad wants you to remember, anything I’m missing?”
Lucas laughed and threw his arms around Uncle Peter. “I think that’s everything. See you in eight weeks.”
Uncle Peter stood still for a second like he always did before he hugged Lucas back tightly. “If you want someone to meet you at the end of camp you can always call me or your Aunt Malia. Or even your dad. You know he would drop everything for you and come here.”
“I know.” Lucas pulled back. He smiled brightly up at his worried uncle. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you have a plane to catch?” He hinted for Uncle Peter to leave.
“I do.” Uncle Peter didn’t move. “Have fun, Lucas.”
Lucas was distracted by the colorful banners hanging above the table for bunk assignments. “Bye, old man.” Lucas fired off flippantly.
Lucas turned back and waved as his Uncle Peter got behind the wheel and drove back down the mountain to the Denver airport. He was leaving from here to Paris. Lucas silently wished him luck and safe travels.
Now. To find his bunk assignments. He hoped he made a few friends who would like him as him and not because of his dad being the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company. In fact, he would keep that little fact a secret. He might make a few more genuine friends that way.
Lucas picked up his bags and headed for the table announcing where people would be rooming for the next two months. This was awesome!
****
James liked Camp Weaver. He missed his dad and Uncle Scott and Grandpa like you wouldn’t believe but he liked summer camp.
The camp was amazing. There were so many things to do. James was never bored. He could go wakeboarding for an afternoon or he could hit the basketball courts or there was even a lacrosse field.
His dad played lacrosse in high school. So did Uncle Scott. Sometimes, when his dad and uncle were free, they’d break out the lacrosse sticks and balls and play a game. James had been playing lacrosse since he was six years old.
That’s where he was currently. He was suited up in the camp’s gear and was totally dominating the field. The teams had no decent players except for one and he was on James’ team.
James was having so much fun. He had a couple of camp friends cheering him on from the sidelines. James smirked and dodged another player.
Time was almost up for the game. He had two minutes left to score the winning goal. The other team had the ball. James was determined to score the last goal. The game was tied. If he could just get the ball he could…
James let out a huff of air. He was pushed to the ground as the one decent player in this whole camp pushed past him to score the last goal. The timer buzzed and the players cheered.
James was furious despite the fact that his team won. That was supposed to be his goal. James got to his feet and marched over to the kid everyone was slapping on the back and praising. That was supposed to be him.
“Hey! What do you think you were doing? I had it.” James yelled and pushed the other kid sharply. The other boy stumbled back.
He squashed his dad’s disapproving look that sprung to his mind. James was angry.
“Sure.” The other boy snarked after a moment. “And you just staring at the ball was what? Scoring a goal?”
James glared and shoved him again. “I had it!” James repeated.
Something about this other boy rubbed him the wrong way. It was infuriating.
“Uh-huh.” The other boy turned away dismissively.
“Hey! I’m not done with you.” James reached for the other boy’s wrist.
“Okay. Break it up.” The adult in charge… Mr. Finstock… (Yes, that was his name.) pulled James away from the other boy. “There is no fighting at this camp. Both of you helmets off so you can look each other in the eye and apologize.”
James glared and yanked off his helmet. The other boy went totally still and let out a small gasp.
“Come on, Hale. Take off the helmet.” Mr. Finstock ordered sharply.
The other boy… Hale?... slowly reached up and took off his helmet.
First, the helmet revealed a familiar chin, then a familiar mouth, and then the same green-blue eyes and then the same shade of hair as James styled longer in attempted tousled waves. It reminded him of his dad’s signature look. The only difference was the four moles spotted on his chin and right cheek.
James felt his jaw drop. It was like looking in a mirror. Who was this kid? Why did he look like him?
“Close your mouth or you will catch flies and I’ll have to call you flycatcher.” Hale snarked rudely.
James clenched his jaw. That did it. This kid was an imposter and there was nothing endearing about him.
“Yeah? Well, at least I’m not attempting to look like someone else. Is your hair dyed?” James glared at the imposter. “It’s not done very well.”
Hale’s jaw dropped and a familiar scowl crossed his face. Hale took one step forward and James matched him. They were chest to chest. James ignored the tingle that shot through him.
“Hale! Stilinski!” Mr. Finstock put a hand on each boy’s shoulder and shoved them apart. “Take a walk. Both of you.”
James glared one more time at his imposter before marching off the field towards the equipment shed. Just who did that kid think he was? Insulting James like that wasn’t going unpunished. James would get his revenge. One way or the other.
James spotted the lake in the distance and a slow grin crept up his face. He had the most brilliant idea. He was a genius.
****
Lucas was having a very bad day. First, there was that other boy, Stilinski, who looked exactly like him, except he was blessed with no moles. Lucky smug jerk. Then this happened…
Lucas was so tired. He wanted a quick shower and to fall in bed to sleep for a decade. Playing lacrosse was a very hard full of exercise game.
The only problem was… he couldn’t find his shower items. His loofa, his soaps, his towel… nothing. It was all gone from his bag.
Lucas dug through it again. It wasn’t here. A flash of white and a crinkle of something caught his attention. There was a piece of paper where his shower bag used to be.
Lucas felt anger and dread well up. If the culprit was who he thinks it was…
Lucas unfolded the paper.
Imposter,
Maybe a swim in the lake would be better for you. At least for your hair. All that dye can’t be good for you.
The Real One.
Lucas grit his teeth. That… that… jerk! He stole all his shower supplies and left behind a note like a coward.
It was a little childish but if that’s the way Stilinski wanted it then Lucas would bring it.
Lucas borrowed some supplies from the camp for the night. Tomorrow he would ask to go into town to buy more body wash, shampoo, towels, and a loofa. Tonight, Lucas would plan his revenge.
****
Lucas glared at his… double? Clone?... whatever mystical thing made them exactly alike and stabbed his fork viciously through his mashed potatoes and gravy.
He found out the other’s name just by listening. James Stilinski. What kind of name was that? Stilinski. His was much better. Lucas Hale. At least Hale was a normal last name. That kid must have so many bullies at his school.
No.
He wasn’t going to feel sympathy for the enemy. James Stilinski stole his shower supplies and made him feel like he wasn’t good enough at lacrosse. He had to remember that.
His other dad played lacrosse in high school. He knew that much from his dad.
Hmm. He can’t keep calling both of his dads, dad. Maybe the parent he lived with was Dad and the one he might never know be called Papa? Daddy? Pop? He would have to figure it out if he ever met him in person. Lucas wished he could meet him in person. He wanted to know the soft kind man who smiled at his dad so happy. Then he wanted to ask where it all went wrong. Why did they split and why couldn’t they get back together.
Lucas was waiting for his revenge plan to be put into motion. Lucas had paid a kid to dump his tray on James with the grossest stuff in the line. Things like the old gravy and the green beans and the half-drunk cups of orange juice that they saved from breakfast.
With perfect timing, a tray tipped and a shout rose up from James’ table. James was glaring at the poor kid that Lucas paid. Thirty dollars might not be much to him but it was good enough for the boy.
The kid stammered out an apology. James wasn’t hearing him.
James ignored him and snapped his head around to find Lucas. “You!” James seethed in anger once he found him. His blue-green eyes snapped sparks in his rage. “You did this! I know you did!”
Lucas stood up as James marched over to him. Drips of gravy and green beans were flung off him as he moved.
“Whatever do you mean?” Lucas widened his eyes and pouted out his lower lip to show his innocence in the act. “I was over here the whole time.”
“I know you did this!” James’ eyebrows were so close together, Lucas couldn’t help himself.
“You know, if you keep that up people will think you have a unibrow.” Lucas waved at James’s eyebrows in response to the arched brow. That gesture reminded him of someone. Who was it?
James’ face didn’t improve. He scowled more and leaned in close. “We are not done. You will pay for this.”
“Bring it on, Oh Great Fake One.” Lucas grinned a vicious grin his Uncle Peter would have been proud of.
“You’re the fake one,” James yelled and shoved at his shoulders harshly.
Lucas tipped backward and fell against a table. His hand landed on someone’s plate of mashed potatoes. Lucas couldn’t let this kid bully him. His dad might not like the fight he was about to get into but Dad always said to stand up to bullies so Lucas would do just that.
Lucas snarled and flung himself on James. He tackled the other boy to the ground and landed a punch to that familiar jaw. James struggled under him and rolled over so Lucas was smashed into the ground. James nailed him in the ribs.
Lucas huffed and wiggled until he had a knee poised right where he wanted. Hey, Aunt Malia taught him to fight and said that even though he was a boy he shouldn’t fight fair if it was for his life. Lucas let his knee fling forward. James made a satisfying grunt and groan as Lucas’ knee connected with his groin.
“No fair.” James wheezed out in pain as he fell off Lucas.
“I don’t fight fair to bullies like you.” Lucas hissed. He only just now took notice of the crowd around them chanting the word fight like they were in a stupid movie. Lucas rolled his eyes and them.
Lucas swallowed harshly when he spotted Mr. Finstock pushing his way through the crowd. Lucas was tempted to run but before he could, the adult reached them and he was fuming mad.
“Stilinski! Hale! That is enough! Both of you will go to the nurse to get checked out. Then you will hit the showers because both of you reek. Then… you will pack your bags. Everyone else… go prepare for a march through the woods because if these two idiots can’t get along. We will help them get along. Move!” Mr. Finstock glared at the two of them. “On your feet Stilinski. You too Hale.”
“In a moment, Sir.” James gingerly got to his feet. He stared at Lucas with an unreadable look before turning away and heading for the door.
Lucas stayed behind feeling terrible. What was going to happen to them? He messed up. He messed up really badly.