Chapter Text
Across Dimensions
It's shaping up to be the weirdest day of Stiles's life, and it's all because of this damned mirror.
Okay, sure, maybe he had no business sniffing around a real warlock magic shop, but how was he supposed to know that touching a really cool, really texture-y mirror would transport him to a different dimension? And why the hell would you put something like that on display for just anyone (namely curious young college boys) to come and touch? Really, Stiles can't be blamed for this. The universe pretty much set it up.
So there Stiles was, minding his own business, and suddenly he's transported through (yes, right through the damn thing) mirror. Stiles has read a lot about how mirrors are supposed to reflect who a person really is, and that mirrors are used as portals to different dimensions, but fuck. Werewolves literally have nothing on this magic, transporting mirror.
Now, after that little show, Stiles is currently standing in front of the burnt-up Hale house, staring up at the monstrosity. It's seriously so huge, even huger than he remembers (and Stiles has a pretty good memory). He carefully approaches it, because yeah him and Derek are friends now and yeah he's part of the pack, but he doesn't know how the hell he got here and why here of all places.
Stiles takes tentative steps up the front porch, wincing as each one creaks. The door opens before he reaches the top, like it usually does because of Derek and his insanely creepy wolfie powers. "What are you doing here, Stiles?" Derek growls, and Stiles can't help but feel seventeen again.
"I dunno. I sort of just ended up here after you sent me to that stupid warlock's shop—"
"I did what?" Derek looks honestly confused, and his eyebrows are doing that scary arching thing that they stopped doing a few years back.
"You sent me to a warlock shop to get some supplies for dealing with the territorial issues of the pack." Stiles says slowly, confused as to why Derek is confused.
"I didn't send you anywhere! Your lessons are after school! And shouldn't you be at school right now? Why are you at my house?" Derek is insanely offensive, and as Stiles squints less, he sees that the Derek standing before him is definitely not his Derek. This one looks about six years younger and meaner.
"Um, Derek? How do we know each other?"
"What kind of a question is that? You've been coming to me for weeks to learn control!"
Stiles can feel himself pale as he steps backwards down the steps. "C-control for what?"
Derek looks at him as if he's a complete idiot. "You got bit a few weeks ago, dumbass. You came to me begging for help? Remember?"
Stiles actually trips, feeling like he's going to throw up. "What?" He whispers, turning away.
"Stiles?" Derek asks, seeming a little concerned. A little.
"I-I'm fine." He stutters. "I just have to...to go." He turns and sprints back to where the warlock shop was back in his world, except in this world it's not a warlock shop—it's a spell book store. Stiles quickly finds the mirror in a dark corner in the back and wastes no time lurching forward to touch it. Immediately he's spiraling and finds himself landing in a library, flat on his ass. What the fuck? Beacon Hills has one library other than the school's and it's really shitty. The one that he's in right now reads "Beacon Hills Public Library" on a banner hanging over the front desk, and it's crazy nice-looking. Sure, it's tiny, but it's really quaint and Stiles knows that if the Beacon Hills Library was actually this nice he would spend much more time in it.
He sighs, ready to run a hand through his hair and becoming surprised when he feels glasses on his face. They're big and brown and chunky and when he takes them off he can't see for shit.
"Mr Librarian!" A little kid wanders up to him. "I want to check out this book!" The kid holds out a book about whales and their mating habits, a book that's way too advanced for his age. The kid can't be over six, and kind of resembles—"My name's Scott!" He announces. "My Daddy likes to come here to listen to you read, but he pretends that we only come here for me." Scott smiles a huge crooked grin, looking insanely pleased with himself. "My Daddy's standing over there looking at Jane Asstin books." The kid points, and Stiles can almost guess before he sees.
Sure enough, when he looks over, he sees Derek Hale, tiny reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, flipping through "Emma," a Jane Austen classic. Scott beckons for Stiles to come closer, and Stiles complies when he gets on his knees and leans in. "My daddy likes you," he whispers loudly in Stiles's ear. Then he pulls back. "I can tell. He likes to stare and he loves your voice and the way your fingers move when you flip the pages." Scott smiles even wider, which is ridiculous and frankly creepy. "I think he likes story time more than I do."
Stiles's eyes widen considerably, and he glances back at Derek to find his gaze held there by a pair of green eyes.
Okay, Stiles isn't stupid, blind, or deaf. Back in his normal dimension, Derek maybe might be the cause of a few jerking off sessions and a lot of awkwardly inappropriate boners. Okay, maybe a lot. But it's not Stiles's fault that him and Derek have saved each others' lives countless times and that Derek is hotter than Hades himself.
So what if Stiles has a crush?
Derek's cheeks heat up and he averts his gaze to Scott. Derek bites his lip and walks towards them, three small paperbacks in hand. "Did you find the book you wanted?" He asks little Scott, holding out a hand for him to take.
"Yeah, Daddy! Mr. Stiles can check us out too since he's done with story time!" Stiles takes the cue and leaps behind the counter, assessing the library computers. It doesn't look too hard to figure out, so he clicks a few keys and finds the program he needs.
"Card?" He asks, playing his role. Derek slides two cards to him: one blue and one a bright yellow.
"Wait!" Scott cries, and grabs the yellow one from the table. Stiles scans the blue one and checks Derek's books out.
"Card?" He leans over the counter to look at Scott with mock expectancy. Scott senses this and giggles as he passes over the card. Stiles scans the whale mating book and gives it back to the boy, who looks absolutely overjoyed.
Derek eyes the book warily. "Are you sure you don't want to get any more books?" He asks with a resigned sigh.
"Nope!" Scott's tiny high voice is content, definitely used to getting its way. Derek doesn't look surprised.
Watching the father and son duo is adorable, and Stiles can admit without a doubt that Dad Derek is hot. He's got thin-framed glasses and ruffled hair. His stubble is a little out of control and he has slightly dark circles under his eyes, but Derek looks absolutely happy and definitely the right amount of sexy. Derek works the single dad look.
"So um hey," Derek starts off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd really like to take you up on your offer to teach us how to make baked spaghetti. Scott's been bugging me about it for ages and I'm genuinely curious. He sounds really nervous and Stiles actually chokes back a laugh. "Are you free tonight to come over and teach us?"
Stiles knows he shouldn't, but he really can't help flirting. "I'm free whenever, but you should know that I make a mean baked spaghetti."
Derek smiles a tiny bit and looks down at his feet, then scribbles an address on a piece of paper. "Seven sound okay?" He slides the paper to Stiles.
"Seven sounds great," Stiles breathes, and watches Derek as he takes little Scott's hand and leads him away.
Fuck, Stiles really doesn't want to leave this universe, but he doesn't even know where his apartment or house is. He sighs, taking his time leaving the library and strolling down the street to the warlock's store. As he touches the mirror, he wonders where it's going to take him next and if he's ever going to get home.
When he's thrusted into this next dimension, he's lying on a bed, on top of the covers. He's hot as fuck, so he unsticks himself from the silky sheets. It's ridiculous because he's only in boxers and socks, but still feels like he's burning up. It must be summer.
Stiles scans the room, curious. It's not his bedroom from home, that's for sure. The walls are white, and everything in the room is either black, white, or silver. It's really sharp, to be honest. He pads into the bathroom, gasping slightly as he looks into the mirror. He looks about three years older, his hair longer and eyes wiser. It's not much of a difference, but enough that he can tell.
He then leaves the bathroom and the bedroom, wandering down the upstairs hallway. The floors are wooden here, the walls a happy orange. It leaves Stiles wondering whose house it is. He finds some stairs with a gorgeous curling banister and walks down them quietly. Something smells like food and the scent gets stronger the further down the stairs he goes. The stairs lead into a living room. It has deep blue walls that somehow make it look bigger and tan furniture that makes it looks really nice. He keeps walking, and he's pretty sure his jaw hits the white linoleum of the kitchen when he sees a docile Derek sitting at the kitchen counter, on a laptop, munching on omelet leftovers from a brunch place called Cosmos (as the styrofoam container states).
Derek doesn't even lift his eyes from the computer when Stiles comes closer, just nudges the omelet towards him. "I left you half. I know how much you love the cilantro with the bacon." Derek types in some more and when Stiles gets close enough to grab the omelet Derek grabs him by the waist and pulls him in tightly, then presses a tender kiss on his lips.
Stiles is not gonna lie; he's speechless. Derek tastes like microwaved omelet and toothpaste, and it's probably the best thing Stiles has ever tasted. They break the kiss and Stiles takes a bite of omelet, cheeks heating up. In the middle of his third bite, Derek breaks him off with another kiss, and Stiles pulls away quickly. "Gross!" He laughs, moving to the other side of the counter.
Derek chuckles and hums with happiness. "Well if you didn't want me to kiss you, you have to stop making yourself so irresistible." He smiles sweetly, innocently, at Stiles and types some more. Stiles finishes his half of the omelet and decides to take advantage of this opportunity that has presented itself so beautifully in a Derek-wrapped form.
He struts around back to Derek and sits on his lap, careful not to interrupt his typing. Derek visibly blanches, his muscles tightening as he attempts to continue his typing. "Sorry, am I distracting you?" Stiles hums nonchalantly, actually feeling Derek's boner.
"'Course not, dear." Derek's blushing, and Stiles can't stop staring because how the hell can someone blush so beautifully? Derek's blush starts a little rosy around his cheekbones and slowly darkens, giving his cheeks doll-like qualities. It's probably the cutest thing Stiles has ever seen.
"Have I ever told how much I love the pet names?" Stiles asks jokingly, but actually wonders.
"You may have mentioned it." Derek kisses his jawline. "Like, every day since our six month anniversary date."
Stiles holds in a girlish giggle. They've been calling each other cute names since their six month dating mark. Stiles can't help how amazing Derek smells, and runs kisses up and down his neck, the side of his mouth, and every inch of his cheek. He should probably feel bad or guilty or even a little weirded out that he's getting it on with Different Dimension Derek, but he can't find it in himself to care with the way Derek's holding Stiles on his lap like he's a treasure and burrowing his nose in Stiles's neck crevice.
Derek is actually snuffling him, the sound wet and adorable, and Stiles's cock twitches happily. Derek's rough stubble scratches against Stiles's delicate skin and he shivers, the pleasure overcoming him unexpectedly. "I haven't been able to have ride you since our wedding day," Derek says naughtily, eyebrow quirking up.
"Our...what?"
Derek just chuckles. "Now don't tell me you can't remember the best day of my life," Derek is smiling, and his fingers find their way to Stiles's left hand. They twirl on his ring finger, where a golden wedding band rests comfortably.
"Our...oh my god," Stiles whispers, and leans further into Derek to hide his shining eyes.
Before, Stiles thought of this whole ordeal as an adventure, as a learning experience. Now he wonders if it's some kind of gift or treasure. Or maybe a curse. A punishment. He knows that when—if—he gets back home he'll have to go back to the way things were, back to just hanging with Derek during pack bonding time or helping him make dinner or just brainstorming new ways to keep the pack safe.
When Other Dimension Derek offers to ride him after breakfast, Stiles declines the invitation in hopes that Derek won't be upset. Luckily he seems undeterred and gives Stiles a long, lingering kiss before heading upstairs to change for work. Stiles is glad, because as much as he wants to bone Derek, he wants it to be with Real Derek, not Other Dimension Derek.
While Derek is banging around upstairs, Stiles pulls on a shirt and some pants and lets himself out of the house to head to the Warlock's shop. As much as he loves this particular dimension, he knows he can't get too attached to one or another because then he might never get home. Moving forward is probably the smartest option at this point. When he gets there the shop is exactly the same as it is in his universe, and he gives a nod to the guy at the desk before walking around to where the mirror usually is. He spots it, touches it, and is whisked to another dimension.
This universe starts exactly like the other one—even the room is the same—except this time it's cold. Stiles has on a shirt and a pair of boxers, and he's bundled under a heavy blanket. He feels sore as he gets up, so he does it slowly and carefully, balancing on his feet. He wonders what dimension he's woken up in this time.
Again, he pads his way to the bathroom and looks in the mirror. What he sees makes him almost scream at the stranger looking back at him. The only thing that stops him is that he recognizes specific features about himself: his eyes, his moles, his nose. His hair is silver in some places and when he squints at himself tens of crow's feet bunch up in the corners of his eyes. If he has to guess, he's anywhere between thirty-five and forty-five. He rubs his face tiredly and turns to leave the bathroom when he's assaulted by a small figure. "Daddy! We thought we heard you get up!"
Yes, Stiles actually freezes. There's a tiny child hugging him and calling him Daddy. What else are you supposed to do? The kid doesn't seem deterred by his lack of response, and the little boy's face is ecstatic as he bounces up and down. "Papa said to come and get you when you woke up so you guys can make us breakfast!"
"Oh d-did he now?" Stiles asks, looking at the little boy in a sort of awe. The kid looks so much like him and Derek it's uncanny—and confusing. He's got dark hair but a wiry frame, a cute little round face, and wide but green eyes. The kid is like a perfect mixture between the two. How the hell does this kid look like both of them? Does the future have a new procedure in which two males can put their DNA into one child?
If so, Stiles has to admit that that's pretty cool.
He lets the kid take his hand—he doesn't even know his own kid's name—and follows him slowly down the stairs. The little boy is probably six or so. As they walk down, Stiles takes in the decor. All in all its the same, but now there are green wreaths and red berries and lights hung everywhere. Christmastime.
They pass a family photo, which has a little girl, and even littler boy, Derek, and Stiles. It looks cute, all of them smiling and happy, but Stiles can't help the tiny gasp that leaves his lips. Because in the picture, someone's pregnant. He's pregnant.
Okay, Stiles isn't ignorant: he's read about knotting and male mates of alphas getting pregnant, but he wasn't sure it was real until...well, now. Stiles makes up his mind that once he gets back to his real dimension he'll ask Derek about it. That will make for an interesting conversation.
Once they get downstairs, Stiles is surprised when he sees three more pairs of eyes staring at him from the kitchen. One pair is the most recognizable: gorgeous greens with bushy eyebrows. The other two are hauntingly similar and familiar, and with a start Stiles realizes that these other two kids have his color of eyes. Caramel brown must run in the family.
There's a teenage girl sitting at the island, a cell phone in her hand. She has dark brown hair and features that resemble Derek's more than Stiles's, and she can't be younger than sixteen. She's wearing a big Christmas sweater, leggings, and Santa socks. The other pair of eyes belongs to a boy who looks like a mini Derek with the exception of his eyes and lighter brown hair color. He's sitting at the table, not the island with his sister, reading a super thick book. When Stiles cranes his head to look, he sees that it's the last Harry Potter. The boy is probably fourteen or so.
Stiles turns his eyes back to Derek, who's striding towards him with a secret smile on his face. He gathers the little boy in his arms and holds him up, sending him into a fit of squeals. "Papa! Let me down!" He giggles uncontrollably.
"Only if you surrender!" Derek growls playfully.
In a crazy fit of desperation, the little boy half wolfs out, his fangs growing bigger and eyebrows half disappearing. He snarls and nips, but Derek is obviously much stronger, so no one looks remotely worried about the rough-housing in the kitchen. If anything, they look annoyed. "It doesn't look like Dad's going to be any help, so Papa, Dylan. Could you please maybe not do that in the kitchen? Remember what happened last time?" The girl sighs tiredly, like she has to put up with this way too much.
Derek holds in a laugh, setting the little boy—Dylan?—down. "Alright, you heard your sister. Fangs in."
Dylan nods glumly and complies. "Can you and Daddy make breakfast now? I really want your famous pancakes." He looks excited, and their other children perk up at the mention of food.
"I think we can manage that," Derek says understandingly, looking over Dylan's head at Stiles. Stiles can't help but smile and they both make their way to the other side of the island where the stove and cooking countertops are.
Derek already has all the ingredients and cooking supplies out, and Stiles begins to pour the flour into a bowl. He and Derek move around the kitchen, this routine practiced and perfected. Stiles already knows this dance: back at home him and Derek are in charge of cooking all the pack meals when everyone's home, so they have a perfect rhythm down pat. Apparently that doesn't change, no matter what dimension you rip through.
It leaves Stiles feeling both warm & gooey inside and like there's a hole that's been ripped through his chest.
The perfect synchronization continues until there are plenty of cinnamon pancakes, each one in a different creative shape.
"What's that one?" Dylan points to a standard circle one, confused.
"It's the full moon, of course," Stiles tells him with wide eyes. Dylan claps his hands excitedly. "Now take a seat at the table and we can all eat."
Dylan follows his instructions, taking his sister's hand after she shoves her phone in her pocket and making her join them. It looks as if breakfast at their house is something of an important event because even the Derek look-alike kid is putting away his book. Derek and Stiles take their seats, and Derek raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Tyler? Would you like to bless the meal?"
Tyler's cheeks tinge pink a little before he nods. Stiles watches his family with interest. Are they actually religious? Tyler looks around the table and unexpectedly throws his head back and howls. The rest of the family echoes, even Stiles, and then they begin to dig in.
Stiles watches the family—his family— and has to choke down a rising sob. This right here is everything he's ever wanted. A life with someone he loves unconditionally, having children he loves without a doubt in his mind, a family to call his own. Love in a household despite hardships, despite annoyance, despite lycanthropy. It feels so right to be here.
He definitely has to get out of here as soon as possible.
Right after breakfast, they all chip in with dishes, splashing water nonchalantly at each other and mopping it back up right afterwards. Stiles learns that their daughter is named Claudia, after his own late mother. That almost brings tears to his eyes. After dishes, Derek says that they need to get some wrapping done, so they all sit in the living room with bad ABC Family Christmas movies playing in the background as they wrap the seemingly hundreds of presents in the room with their endless rolls of Christmas wrapping paper.
Stiles is helping Dylan slap labels on each one, and every single one is from "The Hales". That sends a chill of pleasure down his spine just to read it. Who they're addressed to changes: Scott, Lydia, his father, Cora, Danny, Isaac. Stiles is overjoyed to learn that even in a different dimension, these people are still important parts of his life.
After they finish wrapping, Stiles announces that he's going into town to grab some gingerbread cookie frosting, and presses a kiss to the forehead of each child and one to the lips of Derek before leaving. His vision is blurred by tears the entire way to the shop, and he stumbles out the car and into the store as quickly as he can. He's afraid that if he waits any longer he's never going to leave. He can see the tears tracking their way down his splotchy face in the mirror's reflection right before he reaches a shaky hand out to touch it.
This time, when Stiles is thrown back into a world, he's in the Warlock's shop. He sees himself in the mirror looking the proper age, but dried tears stain his cheeks and red rims his eyes. It hurts to blink, hurts to breathe. It feels like heartbreak, which frankly is ridiculous because Stiles has lost nothing. He had nothing to lose in the first place. But the slashes in his heart suggest otherwise.
Stiles feels empty as he walks back home. Somehow, he can just feel that this is his normal dimension, the one he belongs in. He's irrationally jealous of the other Stiles's, the ones that are married to Derek and have beautiful children and fall in love.
As Stiles continues to walk, he finds himself heading the direction of Derek's house, and he doesn't stop himself. His feet know what he wants, and who is he to refuse them them what they so desperately want? Stiles actually surprises himself when he walks up Derek's redone front porch steps without hesitation. His fist stutters when he knocks, but it doesn't stop him from making them loud and determined.
The door opens and Derek's there, in his typical black shirt and dark jeans, looking gelled and annoyed as per usual. Except he looks a little confused. "Stiles? Did you find the information?"
"Information?" That throws Stiles for a loop, because oh yeah, he was supposed to be getting information at the Warlock shop, not going on a multi-dimensional field trip. "Oh, uh, yeah. Well, about that..." Stiles trails off, breathing a little heavier as his anxiety begins to grow because shit, why the fuck is he here doing this?
"Are you alright? Your heartbeat just sped up to like a million beats a minute." Derek sounds concerned, but his face doesn't usually screw up into that emotion so instead he looks a bit constipated.
To be totally honest, he still looks really hot, so Stiles really can't be blamed for the bout of word diarrhea that comes blurting from his mouth. "Do you love me?"
Derek looks taken aback, blinking hard a few times. "I...what?"
Stiles is deeply regretting this, but it's too late to go back now. "Do you love me?"
Derek now looks kind of trapped. "Stiles, I—"
"I mean I get it. I get that I'm annoying, that you've known me since I was like sixteen, and that you're my alpha and I'm not a werewolf. I get that you're a lot older than me and that I got you arrested once. I also get that there's a zero point three percent chance you might like me back, but I really need to know because otherwise I'm going to keep rambling and I really can't take this silence like it's actually going to eat my alive oh my god please say you love me because I'm pretty sure I love you and I don't know if I could—"
He's cut off by Derek grabbing him roughly and suffocating him with his chest, which—while appreciated—is extremely uncomfortable. Stiles tells him so, and Derek continues to suffocate him, but this time does it with both of their lips pressed against each others'.
And hell if Stiles is complaining.