Chapter Text
Stiles is in the bathroom when he hears the giggles. "Angus, I swear if you're poking the baby again..."
Stiles walks into the bedroom and Derek is standing there, looking shifty.
"Looking good, Daddy-O". Stiles plops onto the bed in a strategic defensive position next to the baby's Moses basket and looks at Derek suspiciously.
Derek snorts. " Four cubs later, I've still got it."
Stiles assumes a sexy pose."Ha ha ha, it's just MY body that looks like a ravaged post-apocalyptic Earth - overrun with mutated creatures."
" I'm still pretty sure, you're the only person in Beacon Hills who's seen After Earth...and referring to your own children as mutated creatures...tsk tsk".
Stiles sits up and dangles a hand in the baby's basket. " Who said I was talking about the kids? But let's get down to business, Mr. Hale, what cha doing?"
"...I should help Allison and Scott with the other cubs..."
"Not so fast, mister! I know you were poking the baby. We've discussed this. One - It sets a bad example for Angus...and for Scott. Two - What kind of health ramifications there might be - both physically and mentally- if people keep running around, poking her tummy."
Derek looks skeptical. "You know this applies to you too, right?"
"Of course, although, one could always argue it's one of my maternal rights."
"It's not."
Stiles watches Derek leave the bedroom. He looks over innocently at the baby. Baby Merida is just lying
there, all baby-ish. Stiles tries to resist...and fails. Merida giggles.
" I HEARD THAT STILES!"
"But she's just like the Pillsbury Doughboy, Derek. I don't know how anybody could resist that little tummy-wummy." Stiles picks up the baby and joins the rest of the pack.