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Stiles stood in the mirror and adjusted his tie for the thousandth time and smirked. Take that, Lydia
They were men. And Lydia had deemed them uncoordinated and sloppy and so, had planned their entire wedding for them. And she’d picked black and white.
“Stiles, come on, you can’t go wrong here. Besides, the flowers are gorgeous and you look awesome in white. Plus, Derek hardly ever wears anything but black anyways. I don’t understand what the big deal is,” she’d said.
“The big deal, Lydia, is that it’s my wedding and I want red in it,” he’d said.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“Way to be completely cliché, Stilinski.”
“No fucks given, Martin.”
She glared at him for a full sixty seconds before turning on her heel and leaving the tuxedo shop. Stiles pounced on the opportunity.
A knock at the door broke him from his reverie. Scott slid through the door with a goofy grin on his face and a boutonniere, consisting of a calla lily nestled between a red rose and a black rose, in his hand.
“Had to have your way, didn’t you, bridezilla?” Scott asked as he handed him the flowers.
“Don’t call me that, dude. I’m not a girl,” Stiles responded.
“You’re the one wearing white.”
Stiles rolled his eyes as he pinned the boutonniere onto his white suit jacket. Lydia really shouldn’t have left him alone in the tux shop.
Instead of getting the white suit with the black vest and tie with shiny black patent leather shoes like Lydia had insisted, he’d gotten the white suit with a red vest and tie and shiny red patent leather shoes. Derek, did as he was told and got a standard black suit with a white vest and black tie and white patent leather shoes.
Scott was supposed to wear black and Allison was supposed to wear white. Scott was wearing black, but Allison would be in red. Stiles had also called the florists back last night after Lydia had left and had them put red roses in all the flower arrangements of black roses and calla lilies. It had cost extra, but he was willing to pay it to have his way. Lydia could have it her way when she married Jackson ‘duchebag’ Whittmore.
“You know Lydia’s going to kill you. Like, murdered. Dead.”
“No she won’t. She wants to see these babies,” he said, rubbing his stomach, “How’s Derek? Is he good? Did he eat breakfast? Did you help him with his tie? Scott, you know he can’t tie a tie. Oh god, is Allison here yet? Do you have the rings? Shit, what if he decides he doesn’t want to be saddled to me for-“
Scott cut him off with a hand over his mouth.
“Derek is fine, Stiles. He had a big breakfast this morning, unlike some people,”
“Morning sickness, dude. Did you forget I’m carrying little werewolf babies?”
“I wish I could, dude, but, all the more reason.”
“I’m fine.”
Scott sighed and continued.
“Allison is here and helping him get dressed. His tie will be fine. I have the rings right here,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket, “and he loves you. Obviously.”
Scott gestured to Stiles’ stomach. Stiles instinctively put his right hand over his growing bump. It was barely there, but, he could see and feel the difference.
Scott straightened Stiles’ tie and smiled.
“You ready to get married, buddy?” he asked.
“So ready,” Stiles answered.
They walked down the stairs of the Hale House and into the dining room which was just off the kitchen, where Derek was waiting with Allison for their cue to exit into the back yard where there was a giant tent set up with a dance floor and “twinkle lights” (led Christmas lights, Lydia called them twinkle lights) and a DJ was waiting among the tables and chairs and caterers and there was an actual altar with chairs set on either side of an aisle runner (which was red, Stiles was a for real bridezilla who re-set his entire wedding after Lydia set it the first time) and literally thousands of flowers and there were people and holy crap, he was hyperventilating.
“Calm down, buddy, it’ll be okay,” Scott said, rubbing his back.
“Scott, no, it’s not okay. Call it off, we’re eloping. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can, and you will because that man, in there in the kitchen, he loves you. And you love him, and everything will be fine.”
Stiles took a deep breath and looked Scott in the eye before clearing his mind and straightening up.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I can do this. I can do this.”
“What’s your motto?”
“Stilinski’s never quit.”
“Right. Now. You. Go get married,” Scott said as the music started.
Stiles watched as Scott propped open the doors to the dining room and stepped through them. He turned left and met Allison at the beginning of the aisle. He offered his arm and she took it with a dimpled grin.
Stiles was glad he changed the color scheme. She looked awesome in the red knee length halter that she’d picked. Stiles instantly felt smug as he stepped to stand in the door way and met Lydia’s gaze. She was wearing a black strapless knee length dress with pearls. As he locked eyes with her she silently mouthed the words “I’m going to kill you.”
Stiles chuckled and shook his head mouthing back “I win.” Lydia glared at him. He smiled sweetly. Stiles heard Derek chuckle from the doorway next to him.
“I don’t know what you said, but I think she might actually try to kill you for this,” he said.
“If it weren’t for you, she’d undoubtedly succeed,” Stiles said back.
“Are you okay?” Derek asked.
“Nervous.”
“Me too.”
The music changed then and Derek inhaled deeply.
“Remember not to look back when you walk down. We don’t both need to die at the hands of Lydia Martin,” Stiles said.
Derek chuckled again as he stepped out of the doorway.
“See you in a minute,” he said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Stiles said, his heart swelling in his chest.
Derek walked down the aisle and Stiles enjoyed the view. His man had a hella nice ass. He reached the front of the aisle and stood with his back to Stiles. Stiles took one last deep breath and walked to the beginning of the aisle. He walked slowly to the front, not making eye contact with anyone along the way.
When he reached the altar he and Derek turned to look at each other and he had to take another deep breath to keep from jumping him right there, because, damn he looked good in a tux. Derek looked like he was thinking the same thing as he took Stiles’ left hand in his own.
The rest of the ceremony was pretty much a blur to Stiles. He recited his vows when Lydia said them. They’d opted for traditional vows in favor of making their own for tomorrow night’s ceremony with the pack. Fewer people, more intimate. It was Derek’s idea. Stiles was on board with that.
When the ceremony was over and the rings had been exchanged, Lydia pronounced them husband and husband and they kissed, Derek whispered a soft “Happy Birthday” into Stiles’ ear.
“Best one I’ve ever had,” he replied.
At the reception, Stiles was greeted by probably everyone he’d ever met. His dad congratulated him first and shook Derek’s hand. He’d warmed up a lot since they told him everything a little less than three weeks ago.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Yes dad, werewolf,” Stiles said as Derek shifted to prove his point.
“And you’ve been dating?”
“Something like that.”
“Stiles,” his father said.
“We’re…getting married?” Stiles said.
“WHAT?!”
“Yup, that’s about how I thought you’d take that.”
“Stiles, you’re seventeen. You can’t get married.”
“Eighteen in three weeks, dad. Getting married on my birthday.”
The Sheriff glared at Derek for a moment while Derek looked incredibly ashamed.
“Yo, earth to dad, delinquent son, over here. Not the fiancé’s fault.”
“Stiles. What? Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Well, there’s that thing where, you know, I love him,” Stiles said, reaching for Derek’s hand.
“But why can’t you wait six months or something? Why three weeks?”
“Because we’re going to have something else to worry about in six months. Actually, three somethings. Oh God. Derek, there’s three of them. And only two of us.”
“We’ll rope Scott in, it’ll be okay,” Derek said with a smug grin.
“What the everlasting fuck are you two talking about?” The Sherriff asked.
“Uh, yeah. SO. On the last full moon, right? Derek and I had been fighting. And I went to his house and we…made up.”
“Dear God, Stiles I don’t need to know that.”
“Yes, yes you do. Because, in the throes of werewolfy passion and…stuff…I asked Derek to bite me.”
“And that means…?”
Stiles let his eyes bleed the unique bronze color of his beta form.
“Oh dear sweet mother of…” the Sherriff said.
“Yeah. So. There’s something else too.”
“What else could there possibly be? My seventeen year old son is apparently a newly turned werewolf with a fiancé who’s at least five years older than him-“
“And my alpha,” Stiles said smugly. Derek sat up straighter, plastered a giant smile on his face and preened.
“And your- Stiles, he’s also got a criminal record.”
“Yeah. That was my fault.”
“I’m not even going to ask. What else could you possibly tell me right now? That you’re somehow magically werewolf pregnant with a litter of pups?”
Derek preened again.
“Yeah, about that…” Stiles said, squeezing Derek’s hand.
“Oh, GOD,” the Sherriff said before fainting.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Now, he was here at Stiles’ wedding, shaking his husband’s hand and very lightly placing his hand over Stiles’ stomach and saying “Tell my grandchildren to behave.”
Stiles’ face split into a huge grin as he hugged his dad.
After that, he was greeted by Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Mrs. And Mr. Greenburg from down the street, a neighboring pack of werewolves, the entire Beacon Hills Police department and, much to his surprise, Coach Finstock.
“Congrats, Bilinski!” He yelled across the table. Stiles winced, Finstock’s voice loud and grating to his new ears.
“Thanks, Coach!”
Before they cut the cake, Scott gave his best man’s speech, complete with embarrassing childhood stories. Stiles felt like he would swell and explode with pride when at the end of the speech he turned and said “Here’s to the happy couple, Derek and Stiles Stilinski-Hale.”
Stiles sipped his sparkling white grape juice through a smile so big that it hurt his face. Lydia was a genius. Having sparkling white grape juice put in the same bottles as the champagne for everyone else and having their monogram, a big swirling S interlocked with a big swirling H, put on as the label. No one could even tell that it wasn’t champagne.
Scott made sure to put eighteen candles on the wedding cake as Lydia scowled and everyone else sang happy birthday before Stiles blew out the candles and they cut it. It wasn’t long after that that Stiles announced that he was tired and needed his beauty sleep before tomorrow. He quietly left the party and went into the house, up to his and Derek’s bedroom and began stripping off his suit.
He crawled tiredly into bed and listened as Derek told Scott that he was in charge of everything from the back yard and then listened to his heartbeat as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom.
“Hey,” he said as he entered the room.
“Hello, husband,” Stiles said with a smile.
Derek grinned back at him before stripping out of his suit and boxers and climbing into bed.
“Not even shorts or anything,” Stiles smirked.
“Didn’t think I’d be needing them,” Derek replied.
“Guys, just remember that some of us can hear you,” Scott said from downstairs.
“Not a single fuck to give, buddy. It’s my wedding night. I’m gettin’ some if it kills you,” Stiles said.
Derek snorted and Scott groaned.
Scott was still alive the next day, so Stiles chalked it up to a win.