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Stiles has a natural caring streak. It's wider than a river and longer than Scott's arm. He hands it out freely, to everyone who asks and even some who don't. It doesn't surprise anyone at all that, when their parents get married and have a little girl, Stiles is gone for her. He's buying onesies and little socks with giraffes on them.
It's a little bit more surprising when Scott joins in the madness, but not by much. Scott's always been a giver, and having someone so small and dainty in his care, someone who just soaks up all that love and expects more every day, is just what he's always wanted and never known.
Considering their parents have to leave them alone with the baby on most days, Melissa is still working rotating shifts at the hospital and the sheriff really isn't a job someone works only nine to five, Scott and Stiles learn more about infants than they ever needed to know. Stiles had bought a bunch of baby books when Melissa had shared the news, and sat with her at the dinner table at night reading aloud and asking if it was true or not. Scott and the sheriff had to skip more than a few meals. Although, nothing could prepare them for the harsh reality that they have a real human being in their hands, something that never reacts like a textbook tells them she should, and they quickly learn all her quirks.
She's a walker, not a rocker. She likes it when Stiles sings to her, but not Scott. Scott's warmer and she likes to curl against his chest and fall asleep at night. She has bouts of colic that Stiles quickly figures out is due to a milk protein intolerance and gets his dad to buy soy. She likes to lay flat on her back, especially if Scott's making faces at her from above, and God save whoever tries to change her diaper.
They fall into a routine, something that gets disrupted by werewolves more often than not, but it's their routine and everyone starts to honor it. Nap time is sacred, bed time even more so, and everyone learns her feeding schedule in a way that's probably creepy.
Something changes, though, when it's Scott who holds her hands as she takes her first steps, and Stiles is the one video-taping it. It feels right in a way that wrong, in a way that makes them feel like they're usurping their parents' place in their sister's life. There's a thousand pictures on Facebook of her, and every one of them is Scott or Stiles holding her, feeding her, bathing her. Their parents do all this stuff too, when they are home, but no one is around to document it the way Scott and Stiles do. They shrug it off, though; ignore it. It's too many double night shifts spent pressed together in Scott's bed with the baby between them. It's the days they went to school without any sleep, the carseat sitting in the backseat of the Jeep waiting for when they could pick her up from the babysitter after lacrosse practice. It was sitting shoulder to shoulder at Stiles' computer and shuddering as they read about projectile vomitting and what it meant, and talking themselves out of worrying that it's something more than just a little reflux. It's being the ones who can tell that she's sick before Melissa even notices, and calling the pediatrician back between classes to double check the time of their appointment on Saturday.
A level of possession falls over them both - something that says she's theirs, more than just a sister, but a daughter. She belongs to them - more than to anyone else. She doesn't, though; she doesn't belong to them in the way that they want her to, and it breaks Stiles' heart, even as he keeps a stiff upper lip about it. Scott can feel the pain that radiates from Stiles when he hands the baby over to someone else, even his dad, and Scott tries to fill the blank spaces with his own hands. He presses his hands into Stiles' own, laces their fingers together when no one else is looking, and nosing into the space under his jaw when they had to go to bed alone at night.
"It's hard," Stiles whispers, his eyes closed. It's the first original thing he's said after an hour of asking Scott if he can hear her heartbeat in her crib still.
"I know," he murmurs, thankful for the lock on their door. When the need for a nursery had been announced, it had been easy for the boys to double up - gave them an excuse for everything they were already hiding and for the new things that had developed over time. Scott's window was still perfect for sneaking out of on full moons, when Lydia had to be employed as babysitter, and the two twins that had replaced Scott's full bed could be moved easily together. As much as they love their parents, they both can't help but resent them for coming home from work and taking her back like it was a right, and the time they spent with her was just a priviledge. It should be reversed, turned upside down, but when she's inconsolable, Scott's the only one who can calm her down, and when she's being fussy and won't eat, Stiles is a pro at getting her to take her whole bottle. It feels like they paid too much and weren't getting their monies worth. "Maybe the distance will help?"
Stiles whines a little, a noise Scott probably wouldn't have heard without his enhancements, and buries his face on Scott's chest. There are still traces of baby powder on their hands, there's a mysterious stain on Stiles' shoulder that Scott thinks smells suspiciously like yams, and everything else about this is perfect except for huge, gaping hole inside both of them with her name written across it.
"Maybe someday, we can adopt one of our own, just for us."
Stiles frowns into the night, and Scott knows it's not a perfect solution, but it's all he has to offer him right now. "I don't want to do this again, Scott. I don't want to... invest so much and have my heart broken all over again."
They both hear her crying in her crib, and Stiles is almost out of bed before Scott wraps his fingers in his t-shirt and keeps him in place. The floorboards creak and they can hear their parents' footsteps as they go to comfort their little girl. Scott wraps himself around Stiles' back, chin on his shoulder. "They'll never get her back to sleep. They don't know her favorite song."
"You told them."
"But-"
"Stiles," Scott interrupts. "They'll learn."
They listen quietly, wrapped up in each other and the faint glow of the quarter moon shining through the window, and wait for the sound of their parents' retreat back to the master bedroom. "About earlier," Stiles tries again, turning his head to press his cheek to Scott's and rubbing their noses together. "Were you offering to make an honest man out of me?"
Scott smiles, giving Stiles a lingering kiss on the cheek. "Well, I don't know about honest... but yeah, I was."
Stiles knows that it's going to be harder tomorrow, when the sun rises on another summer day, and they both had to leave her behind in their parents' capable hands to deal with werewolves and high school and coach. He knows that tomorrow is going to be another round of lies to the people they love most. But, for right now, he knows there's only one answer. "Good," he smiles, pulling Scott's arms in tighter around him. "Because I'm going to take you up on it someday."