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"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Scott asks for what feels like the fiftieth time on their four-hour drive from Berkley to Beacon Hills.
"You know I would," Stiles answers for the fiftieth time. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, an obvious sign of nerves and Scott knows that. Hence the asking.
He shouldn't complain. Scott was nice enough to drive the hour from Davis to Berkley and camp out in Stiles's dorm room for the last three days. He'd stayed until Stiles was done with finals so that they could drive home together. Stiles has never minded doing the trip alone, but it's better with a co-pilot and Scott's the best co-pilot he could ask for. They have years of road trip experience. They know what snacks each other likes. They like the same radio stations. Scott's one of the few people he trusts to drive the Jeep which means they can trade off driving. It's perfect. Usually.
What's not perfect is that Stiles has a secret, and he can't tell Scott the secret because Scott will tell absolutely everyone, and this is one secret that Stiles needs to be the one to share.
Because Stiles is pregnant, Peter is the father, and if Peter finds out from someone who isn't Stiles, Peter will freak out and Stiles may murder someone.
So, Stiles pretends he's fine even though he's really not fine. He's freaking out, and it's only getting worse the closer they get to Beacon Hills. Scott may not be the best at using his werewolf skills, but he's known Stiles since kindergarten, and he knows all of Stiles's tells.
Stiles lets out a sigh of relief as the Beacon Hills sign comes into view. Almost home.
"If you won't tell me, will you at least tell Dad?" Scott says as they near the house.
"He already knows." The words slip out before Stiles thinks better of it. He winces, because now he's confirmed that there is something to know. Stiles keeps his gaze resolutely forward, avoiding the puppy eyes that he knows are aimed at him.
He'd told his dad two weeks ago when he'd first found out, because he absolutely needed someone to vent and cry at and unlike Scott, his dad is very good at keeping secrets.
He ignores Scott until he's parked in the driveway next to Melissa's car. The sheriff's cruiser is parked on the street, which means they've got a full house for the night, assuming no emergencies call either of their parents away.
Stiles hops out of the Jeep and opens the trunk to pull out his computer bag, laundry bag, and suitcase. Scott eyes him as he grabs his duffel from the backseat.
"You could have left some of that at the dorms," Scott points out. Stiles ignores him, like he did when they were packing up to leave. He'd packed up the majority of his dorm room before Scott had arrived. He's not sure yet what's going to happen with his pregnancy, but realistically, he's not planning on being on campus much next semester.
Noah Stilinski opens the door before Stiles can even take two steps away from the Jeep. "Hey, boys! Let me give you a hand."
Stiles rolls his eyes as his dad takes Stiles's suitcase and laundry bag away from him. Noah just smiles back. There's an excited bounce to his steps. Stiles narrows his eyes in warning. Noah claps Stiles on the back and ushers him into the home they've lived in since Noah and Melissa got married a few years ago.
"Now you're both acting weird," Scott points out as he trails after them.
Stiles raises his eyebrow and looks pointedly at his dad. "Everything's fine, Scott," Noah says with a wide grin.
Melissa's waiting just inside the doorway. She pulls Stiles into a tight hug and rocks them side to side. She's practically giddy with barely contained excitement. Stiles sighs and stares up at the ceiling, wishing for patience. "Not you too."
Of course his dad had shared the news with Melissa. They're married. They tell each other everything. Thankfully Melissa is also good at keeping secrets.
"Dude!" Scott stands gaping in the doorway. "How come they know, and I don't?"
Stiles tries to think of a diplomatic way to tell Scott, but Melissa beats him to it. She pulls Scott into an equally tight hug and says, "Because you can't keep a secret more than five minutes."
Scott grumbles, but he doesn't defend himself. Instead, he says, "Come on! This isn't fair!"
Stiles slaps Scott on the back and steals his suitcase back from Noah to take it upstairs. "Sucks to be you, I guess."
"Stiles!" Noah protests, but he's laughing and shaking his head.
Scott follows Stiles up the stairs, but when Scott tries to follow Stiles into his room so Scott can continue to pester him, Stiles shuts the door in his face. He sets his computer bag on his desk and kicks the suitcase toward his closet to deal with later. All the important stuff is in his computer bag. He takes a minute to set up his laptop and plug in his phone charger, then collapses backward on his bed.
He's tired. He's always tired lately and four hours in a car right after his last final did not help. He groans and scrubs his hands over his face. The urge to nap is strong, but he left the box of presents for his family out in the Jeep and he wants to spend at least a little time with his dad before he passes out.
He pulls out his phone and checks the time—a little after nine—before sending a message to the pack's group chat to let everyone know he and Scott made it home. Someone knocks on his door. He's very tempted to pull out his mountain ash if that's Scott come back to bother him, but Noah walks in instead and closes the door behind him.
Noah sits on the edge of Stiles's bed and brushes the hair off Stiles's forehead. "How're you doing, kiddo?"
Stiles shrugs as best he can while laying down. "I'm fine."
Noah stares down at him for a long moment, his eyes roving over Stiles's face, as if searching for some malady or injury. "Are you ready for this?" Neither of them mentions what 'this' is. Their bedrooms are mostly soundproof, but if Scott's trying to use his werewolf hearing, he can pick up a few things.
"I kind of have to be," Stiles says. Noah raises an eyebrow and Stiles half-shrugs again. "Okay, technically, I have a choice, but it's a bad choice and I don't want that, so really there is no choice." Maybe if he'd known earlier, but he thinks of a baby that's part him and part Peter and he wants that so badly. "I'm okay with that. Really. I've had two whole weeks to come to terms with—" He almost lets the secret slip but catches himself in time. "With what it is and it's a good thing. I know it is. I'm happy."
"Mmhmm," Noah hums agreement though the look he gives Stiles says that he knows all the parts Stiles isn't saying—how he's scared and worried and afraid and unsure, but so damn excited that he's almost bursting with the need to share the news. Because he and Peter aren't dating. They've never dated, but Stiles has had a crush on Peter since high school and they've been friends for longer. Peter's seen him through every heat since Stiles turned eighteen, which lead to the vague friends with benefits thing they have whenever Stiles is home from college or Peter happens to be near Berkley.
"So when are you seeing the Hales?" Noah asks in that fake nonchalant way that comes out really pointed.
"I was going to head over tomorrow afternoon, say hello before the Yule vigil gets too crazy." Hopefully he'll be able to pull Peter somewhere private so they can talk.
Noah snorts. "Good luck with that. Half the Hale clan is already in town. They've practically taken over the Hilton. I think Talia said a few more were coming in today. It's going to be a madhouse up there from Yule to Christmas, maybe even into the new year."
Stiles groans and covers his face with his hands. "Nooooo. Don’t' tell me that."
Noah claps a hand on Stiles's leg as he stands. "There's always Christmas."
Stiles thinks of the carefully wrapped present sitting in the back of the Jeep and groans louder.
Stiles's plans to get to the Hale house early are waylaid, thanks to Melissa dragging him off to the hospital to meet the obstetricians she recommended. Then he'd had to sit through another sonogram with his new doctor instead of them just getting the files from the doctor he'd seen in Berkley.
Once they got back from that, Stiles had taken a shower to get the smell of sonogram gel off his stomach. At least Scott had already left to see Allison by then, so his dad and Melissa could coo over the latest sonogram without acting like they were passing around some illicit porn magazine. He'd extracted a promise from his dad to lock the pictures up in his safe before Scott got back to the house.
It's already dark by the time he makes it to the Hale house and parks along the long driveway, joining the growing line of cars on either side of the road. He grabs his box of presents from the back of the Jeep and trudges up toward the house. Loud shrieks echo from the other side of the house, meaning the younger Hales have already started chasing each other around the bonfire. Thankfully the wind is on his side, so he makes it safely into the house without getting a face full of smoke.
He steps carefully around the overflowing Christmas tree to find a spot in the back to shove his box so that it'll be safe until he's back on Christmas day. He has to move a few presents but he makes it work. With his arms unburdened, he heads deeper into the house in search of any of the local Hales.
He finds Talia in the kitchen with her sister Amelia and Laura's husband Paul, the three of them moving around the large kitchen with the ease of practice. A few of the younger cousins are helping, directed by Amelia mostly while Talia handles the coordination of getting food into the oven or onto the stove and then out to the backyard to be devoured by a bunch of werewolves, humans raised with werewolves, and an assortment of other supernaturals that have joined the pack.
"Stiles!" Talia spots him first. She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and comes around the counters to pull him into a hug. Talia is both a mother and pack Alpha, which means she gives the best hugs.
"Hi, Stiles!" Amelia waves from where she's chopping up carrots at the counter. Paul grins and offers a nod since his hands are full with the casserole dishes he's pulling from the oven.
Unfortunately he'd forgotten that as Alpha, Talia has some of the best senses in the pack. She stills while hugging him, then presses her nose to his neck to inhale. Stiles's eyes go wide and he pulls back. Talia looks just as surprised as he is. He quickly shakes his head and shoves desperate pleading and caution to her through their pack bond. She nods once and leans close to his ear to whisper, "Peter's?"
He nods.
A wide grin breaks across her face. She makes a zipping motion across her lips and tosses the imaginary key over her shoulder.
"How are you?" Talia asks loudly. She grabs his shoulders and holds him at arm's length. "Let me look at you. I swear, every time you kids go away for a semester, you come back different."
Her gaze goes to his stomach. He rolls his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head. "You should talk to my dad," Stiles says. "He said the same thing." He lets his hand rest on one of hers and taps the back of her hand four times.
"Well," Talia says, beaming. "It's been weeks-" He shakes his head quickly. "Months! Since we've seen you."
"Nice to see you, too." His lips curl up into a somewhat self-deprecating smile. "So, where is everyone? I just got in last night so I haven't had a chance to catch up with anyone yet."
Talia's smile could power their Christmas tree, probably even the whole house, for a year. "Oh, around. Derek and Cora are out back, but I'm afraid you just missed Peter and Laura. They left on a beverage run about thirty minutes ago and you know how Peter is about picking out wine."
He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head affectionately. He's not even legal to drink for a few more months and he knows how long it takes Peter to pick out wine. "Well, if Laura gets fed up and leaves him there, let me know. I'm the designated driver, so I can go pick him up." And hold him hostage on the short car ride back to give him the good news.
"Also," he adds, "I left a box of presents behind the tree. You can tell Cora and anyone else who tries to peek that I'll be very sad if they don't wait until I'm over to open them."
Talia grins. "I'll make sure of it." She kisses him on the forehead and grabs a bottle of water from the counter to press into his hands. "Go have fun."
He salutes her and heads into the fray.
Stiles doesn't remember falling asleep. He remembers the wolves—usually Talia, Amelia, and Laura, which meant Talia was slowly spreading the word to immediate family—sneaking food onto his plate so it was never empty and having to decline alcohol on five separate occasions, much to the confusion of his friends. He remembers grabbing one of the lawn chairs closer to the house because he had to get up and pee at least once an hour. He remembers laughing and joking and feeling so safe surrounded by pack which, combined with the warmth of the bonfire, meant he didn't even make it to midnight before he'd started dozing on and off.
None of that explains how he ended up in a bed that wasn't his own. At least it's easy to figure out whose bed. Derek's room hasn't changed too much from the pack's many sleepovers during high school. The sun's pretty high in the sky when he rolls out of Derek's bed. Said wolf left out a change of clothes at the foot of the bed, which Stiles appreciates after he's showered off the smell of bonfire smoke.
There's a knock on the door just as he finishes changing. "I'm decent," he shouts loud enough to be heard through the heavy soundproofing.
Derek enters and offers Stiles an empty bag. "Figured you'd want something for yesterday's clothes."
"Thanks." Stiles grins and transfers his wallet, phone, and keys into the pockets of the sweatpants Derek lent him. His phone isn't blowing up with texts, which means someone let his dad know he'd spent the night.
Derek ruffles Stiles's hair as he walks past. He starts to strip the bed, then stills.
"You okay there, Der-bear?"
Derek doesn't even yell at him for the stupid nickname Laura gave him when they were kids. Instead, he gathers up the sheets and presses his face into them, inhaling loudly. Realization hits them both at the same time. Stiles quickly slams the door before Derek can say anything.
"Don't-" Stiles gets out at the same time as Derek starts to ask, "Are you-?"
Stiles groans loudly. "Please don't tell anyone."
Derek tilts his head like the confused puppy he is at heart. "But..."
"I haven't told..." He gestures vaguely at the ceiling, in the general direction of Peter's third-floor bedroom.
Derek's eyes widen. "He doesn't-"
Stiles shakes his head. "I don't suppose he's up there?"
"No, he had an emergency meeting with a client. He left an hour ago for Sacramento." Derek's eyebrows draw together. "That explains why Mom and Amelia kept trying to get him to stay. They know?"
Stiles nods. "Talia could smell it, which I'm guessing you did too." He waves toward the ball of sheets. "I know she told Amelia and Laura, at the very least, though I wouldn't be surprised if most of the adults know by now." He rolls his eyes. "I thought your mom was better at keeping secrets."
Derek shrugs. "Usually, yeah, but she always gets a bit..." Derek searches for the word. "Territorial? Protective? When there's someone who's..." Derek waves toward Stiles's stomach.
"Ugh," Stiles moans loudly. "Yeah, I'm going to make my escape before anyone else with a supersniffer finds out. I really need to talk to Peter first, so if you could not talk about it with anyone and especially not with Scott, I'd really appreciate it."
"Of course." Derek closes the distance between them and pulls Stiles into a hug. Derek isn't usually a big hugger, but apparently Stiles's pregnancy is making all the wolves crazy. "Congratulations."
Still, Stiles never turns down a hug, so he leans into it. When Derek pulls away, Stiles claps his hand on Derek's shoulder. "Thanks, man."
He slips out the side door before any of the other wolves can spot—or smell—him.
Stiles texts Peter as soon as he's home and has his phone plugged in. I need to talk to you when you get back. It's important.
It's nearly midnight when Peter finally texts back: Does it have anything to do with why your dad keeps pulling me over? Twelve times last week. Twelve.
Stiles groans. He's going to have to talk to his dad in the morning because that is not cool. Probably, yeah. I'll make him stop.
He doesn't get a response after that, so he assumes Peter either fell asleep or is busy with whatever brought him out of Beacon Hills.
Luck is not with him because Peter doesn't get back to Beacon Hills until late on Christmas Eve. Too late for Stiles to hunt him down because he's busy with festivities at the Stilinski-McCall house, with bonus Argents for the evening.
Then it's Christmas morning and Stiles makes cinnamon rolls, like his mom used to. Noah, Melissa, and Scott all trickle downstairs, lured by the scent of coffee—that Stiles made because he's a nice person and just because he can't have coffee, that doesn't mean everyone else has to suffer—and baked goods. They exchange presents. Scott and Stiles got each other video games and comics, while their parents get them a mix of practical and fun. He's honestly surprised that Melissa and Noah didn't sneak in anything baby related, but he has a feeling the department store gift card from Melissa will be used for maternity clothing and baby supplies.
Finally, they pile in Melissa's car and head over to the Hale house after lunch. He sees Peter for the first time in months. They smile at each other across the room, though the distance rapidly shrinks as Talia guides Stiles over to the couch where Peter is and makes Derek slide over so Stiles can sit between them. There's usually more socializing before they gather in the living room for presents, but everyone's already settled around the tree, waiting for the Stilinski-McCall contingent to arrive.
Stiles frowns. If the werewolves were in their wolf forms, they'd be wagging their tails in excitement, and not just Talia, Amelia, and Laura. Stiles's eyes narrow as he takes in the many excited faces. Even Noah and Melissa look excited, which means there was some meddling among the adults.
"Here, Peter." Talia says as she drops the present from Stiles in his lap. "You should go first."
Stiles groans and drops his face into his hands. "I hate you all."
He can feel Peter's grin. "Something special in here, darling?"
Stiles can practically see the smirk on Peter's face without raising his head. He doesn't look up as Peter tears off the wrapping paper to reveal the small garment box inside. The lid falls to the floor at their feet. Tissue paper rustles and then everything goes silent.
"What in the world?" Peter says as he sees the Yoda onesie. Stiles hears Peter move that aside to reveal the wookie onesie below. Then that's moved and Peter sucks in a sharp breath.
Stiles finally straightens. The room is dead silent, everyone holding their collective breath though half don't know why. Stiles looks down at the simple printout. It's from his first sonogram. He'd written 'Peter, you are the father' in big, bold Sharpie.
Peter's expression is something akin to poleaxed. His fingers rest on the sonogram, right next to the image of their baby. "Is this...?"
"Surprise," Stiles says weakly. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I got back, but..." He shrugs.
Peter turns to look at him, mouth agape. There's something shining in his eyes, something like hope and maybe love?
"Excuse us for a moment," Peter says. He sets the box aside and swoops Stiles up into a bridal carry. Instead of heading for the stairs, Peter carries Stiles into Talia's sound-proofed office and closes the door. He's gentle as he lowers Stiles to the couch. Peter kneels in front of Stiles.
"Darling." Peter breathes the word like a prayer. "You're pregnant?"
Stiles nods. He doesn't think he could speak right now without getting choked up.
"And it's mine?" Stiles nods again. "That means... You'd be what, four months along?"
"Is that..." Stiles voice comes out rough. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes but he's so full of conflicting emotion that he's not sure if they're tears of joy or sorrow. "Is that a bad thing?"
Peter's response is instantaneous. "No!" He surges forward and kisses Stiles's cheek, the corner of his mouth, his forehead. "No, that's wonderful. You know I... I really care for you Stiles and this baby... Whatever you need. Anything."
Stiles smiles. It's a little wobbly, but it'll do. "I just need you."
"Then you've got me. Darling, I know we've never said, but I care for you. I do. I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me if I told you I love you right now, so that can wait until you're ready to say it too."
Stiles snorts and shoves Peter's shoulder. "Asshole." He licks his lips and wills down the blush he can feel spreading. "I love you too. I have since before we shared my heat. I've loved you for a long time, since before I understood what this feeling meant."
"Sap," Peter says with a grin, but the way he kisses Stiles feels like Peter's agreeing. Like he feels the same.
Stiles laughs and wipes his tears away. "We should head back before Talia comes to find us."
Peter stands and holds out both hands to help Stiles up. "She knows?"
"Yeah, she smelled it. I have no idea how many people she told."
"Well, that explains a few things," Peter says with a wry tone. "I'm assuming your father knows too."
Stiles nods. "Yep. He was the first to find out, right after I did."
Peter squeezes Stiles's hands. "I hope you're prepared for Talia to be insufferable."
"As long as you're there to suffer with me."
Peter kisses him again, soft and gentle. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."