TEEN WOLF - MPREG BIG BANG - A Legend of a Lonely Boy - Part one

[bunnymaccool]

Dirty fingers scraped at his sides and yanked at his pants, pulling them down and away from his body. His shirt had been sliced away by bloodied claws, ribbons of the shredded cotton spread beneath him like party streamers. A muffled weeping came from a huddled figure in the corner, her gasping breaths filling the near silence of the room. He whispered her name again and again, something inside him desperate for help. Clawing between his bones, screaming ‘wrong!wrong!bad!wrong!’

The hands sliding across his skin suddenly clutched at him painfully and flipped him over onto his belly. His muscles still felt like heavy leaden weights, unresponsive and ignorant of his every demand to MOVE! The figure behind him leaned flush against his back for a second as stale breath puffed across his cheek.

“So sorry about this, dear nephew… but I’m afraid my time is limited and I have something very important that I need to accomplish. You understand, I’m sure, don’t you?”

Before he could so much as suck air to form a response, his hips were being lifted and pulled roughly backwards. Then he was being split open by pain. A frantic howl ripped itself straight out of his throat as he desperately tried to pull away from the invasion. The figure in the corner gasped in horror and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to meet her gaze. A couple pounding heartbeats later, he could hear her scramble up and run from the room.

A pitiful whine escaped him, unbidden, at her retreat. He was both grateful that no one was present to witness more of his shame, and desperate for someone to help him… save him. Stop the terrible, ripping, searing pain that was licking up and down his spine and creating the rivulets of blood trekking down his inner thighs. A pulse of warmth coated his insides and all he could think was finally… finally, before the heaving sigh of sated pleasure behind him was cut short with a resounding thwack.

Opening his eyes instantly, he was slightly amazed to see the petite redhead sucking in great lungfuls of air and wielding a rusted shovel. The lifeless weight dropping onto his back spurred him into action. He pulled away from the figure, gasping out his pain at separation, before weakly turning around and ripping out his uncle’s throat.

Again.

~*~

Derek startled to consciousness with a whimper clamped in his gullet and the sense memory of hands clawing at his naked skin. He hurtled himself out of the abandoned train car that served as his bedroom and barely made it across the depot to the old public washrooms before vomiting up last nights dinner in one of the truly disgusting toilets. Panting and swallowing against the rising bile, he threw himself backwards to lean against the cool tile floor.

It had been two months since Peter had briefly risen from the dead. The nightmares were getting steadily worse with each passing day, and for the last two weeks each morning had found him in the mad dash to the decrepit facilities to puke out whatever the previous evenings dinner had consisted of. Something was making him feel weighted down, grounded to the earth. He was uncomfortable in his own skin, and increasingly antsy whenever he needed to leave the solitude of the depot.

At least, for the time being, Beacon Hills was experiencing a little spout of peace. The kanima had been dealt with, Jackson was now a full-fledged werewolf… and begrudgingly attempting to build relations with the pack members. Gerard’s body had been found in the woods by the Argents, steeped in black blood and foul enough to contaminate the ground around him likely for years. Scott was still maintaining that he was a pack unto himself… but always seemed to appear wherever Isaac was.

Stiles had deemed Thursday nights as ‘Supernatural Bonding Nights’ … which to Derek’s ears just sounded like a different term for ‘pack meeting’ and they all invaded the depot weekly to just mess around and accomplish fuck all. Lydia was a steady presence at Jackson’s side and the one time she and Derek had locked gazes they had practically flung themselves to different corners of the building. Luckily no one had been paying attention.

School was almost out for the summer. The beta’s were keeping up with their training. Scott had offered a temporary truce to the hostilities. Everyone was doing surprisingly well. Everyone, except apparently … for Derek.

He dry-heaved a couple more times into the toilet, but his stomach was finally blessedly empty. Pulling himself up agonizingly slowly, Derek fumbled his way out of the bathroom only to run right into Isaac. The beta looked slightly ill himself and tried to reach forward to steady Derek on his feet, but the alpha ripped out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me.”

Isaac chewed nervously at his bottom lip while he followed Derek’s halting progress back to his lumpy mattress jammed into the corner of his allotted rail car.

“Derek, please … just … go see Deaton?”

The alpha snarled at him before curling up in his bed and waiting for the nausea tickling at his insides to pass.

“I’m fine.”

A startled laugh tumbled out from the beta’s lips.

“You’re really, really not. Please, just … what if I call him and see if he can come here?”

Derek sighed and rolled away to present his back to the beta.

“Fine … just leave me alone.”

He must have fallen back into a dreamless sleep, heavy with exhaustion, because the next thing he knew it was evening again and the soft footfalls of the local veterinarian were approaching cautiously. Rolling over to his back on the lumpy mattress, Derek eyed Deaton as the older man slowly navigated himself inside the cramped train car. The alpha took a deep inhale catching a faint whiff of Scott off the doctor, but no one else.

“I’ve sent them away for now. I wasn’t sure you would want them here while we spoke.”

Derek grunted in acknowledgement. Normally he would have risen to meet the intruder in his den, but he felt too drained and bone-weary to even make the attempt. He supposed it was good that Isaac had badgered him into letting the vet stop by. There was obviously something very wrong with him. Deaton knelt beside the mattress and placed a small black satchel on the floor.

“Good evening, Derek. Your betas are very worried about you.”

A silent glare probably wasn’t the appropriate response in the current situation, but never let it be said that Derek Hale couldn’t grab a theme and fucking ride with it. Deaton only smirked slightly in response.

“Isaac said you’ve been getting sick most mornings, been sleeping much more than what is usual for you, and have become increasingly irritable and solitary. Does that sound like an apt description of your symptoms?”

Refusing to answer directly once more, Derek let his gaze fall away from the vet to settle on the door behind the human.

“I may know what’s wrong, Derek… but to determine the truth, we’re going to have to have an extremely uncomfortable conversation. I’m warning you in advance.”

A shiver of unease lanced down the alpha’s spine, amplifying when the vet slowly reached forward to place a hand low on Derek’s belly. A deep, threatening growl instantly erupted from his throat but the man just continued to speak in a slow, calming tone.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I have to be sure.”

Derek snarled in response. His thoughts on the situation hopefully clearly vocalized, although his body didn’t feel the need to move away from the surprisingly warm touch. He had only been wearing a thread-bare pair of loose sweatpants to bed recently. Too overheated now at night to bother with anything else. So Deaton’s palm lay directly on his skin, and there was a power in the touch that had the werewolf’s flesh prickling with goose bumps.

“Ah … there we go. It seems I was correct.”

With those words the vet pulled away and gingerly sat back on the dusty floor of the train car. The gaze that met Derek’s was direct and serious. A small measure of fear began to ball up in the alpha’s gut. He finally decided to break his radio silence, licking his dry lips before speaking.

“What is it? What’s wrong with me?”

Deaton rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers together.

“Derek, the night that Peter briefly came back to life… before you and the Martin girl killed him. Did he do something … to you?”

A low warning rumble began to echo through the depot, and the mattress beneath the alpha’s fingers gained some new rips across it’s surface. Deaton sighed, a little wearily.

“That answers my question, then. I won’t make you relive the event by requesting details, but Derek … there was a very specific reason that Peter did what he did. On that particular full moon.”

Derek snapped his teeth a couple times in quick succession, imagining them clamping down over the vet’s jugular to keep the words from flowing out.

“And what reason is that? To humiliate me? Shame me? Get back at me for taking the alpha from him?”

Deaton’s gaze hardened and the werewolf found himself unable to look away.

“No … not at all. It was to impregnate you.”

The world got a little spotty for a few moments after those words were uttered. Derek felt a little sick, and a lot dizzy, and didn’t even remember closing his eyes and sinking further into his mattress. Words and memories were spinning around in his head. His mother’s voice explaining to him that there was a legend, when the moon was full and the stars were aligned just so … that an alpha could practically impregnate anything. The wolf was so strong those nights, nearly bursting with the need to sire an heir that it would create its own womb in the vessel of its choosing. But that was just a legend. A stupid, silly legend.

“It is a werewolf legend, but often times you’ll find that legends are based off of facts.”

Deaton’s voice pulled him back from whatever headspace he had slipped away to. He hadn’t even realized he had been speaking aloud until Deaton had responded to him. The word pregnant was on an indefinite loop inside Derek’s skull that he couldn’t pause. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pup. Pregnant. My uncle raped me and now I’m pregnant. Fuck, he was going to be sick. Again.

“He wanted an heir. He craved it. You took the alpha away from him, so he did the next best thing and sired your replacement. Perhaps he didn’t believe you would kill him again when you found out. Perhaps he thought to steal the child away until it was old enough to challenge you. Perhaps he knew he would only live the one night, and took the chance in order to leave behind a legacy. There are so many possibilities when dealing with the fractured mind of Peter Hale.”

A desperate laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside Derek before he could help it. He brought the heel of his palms to his eyes and pressed down hard enough to see stars. Deaton continued to speak, and Derek found himself unwillingly grasping onto the sound to keep himself tethered to reality.

“If you concentrate… you can feel the little one. Just a tiny spark of life, but it’s there. Concentrate, Derek, and you’ll know that I’m speaking the truth.”

Derek dropped his arms limply back to the mattress, but left his eyes closed. He focused on his own body and tried to block out all the world around him. There was a little flare of a bond somewhere deep inside that screamed for pack! And mother! And protect me! He whimpered softly when he felt it.

“It’s fragile and delicate right now… but it’s there. That’s your child, Derek. I would understand, given the circumstances, if you wish to abort it. And I will help you do so without judgment.”

He finally opened his eyes to meet Deaton’s gaze once more, and promptly shook his head in the negative. The fact that it was Peter… was so fucked up beyond belief, but the pup would also be family. And it was the only family he had left. The vet smiled softly at him.

“I’m glad that you’ve made this choice, and I will still help you any way that I can … but unfortunately, I’m not what you need… and your pup is in danger.”

Now he was really going to be sick. Having the chance of a new family dangled before him… with the possibility it could be taken away almost as quickly.

“How? What… what do I need to do?”

Deaton finally reached toward the satchel that he’d set beside him on the floor. He pulled out a large glass bottle, full to the brim with pills.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had the opportunity to make these, I had to triple check the ingredients. These are prenatal vitamins specifically designed for werewolves. I gave the same to your mother when she was carrying you.”

The vet handed the bottle over with a sad little smile tugging at his lips. Derek took the glass vessel gingerly and eyed the tiny blue and white pills inside.

“Take one with breakfast and one with dinner. Unlike humans, that’s the only real prenatal care that you’ll need. Your body is strong enough to deal with anything else.”

Derek lifted his eyes to meet the man’s dark gaze.

“Then what’s the danger? For the pup?”

Deaton ‘hmmed’ under his breath as he re-closed the satchel and shifted to a low crouch next to the bed.

“The danger isn’t for the pup directly… but to you.”

Tension shot across the werewolf’s shoulders and he had to set down the glass bottle lest it shatter in his grip.

“To me?”

Deaton nodded before pointedly glancing around the abandoned train depot.

“Werewolves don’t do well pregnant when they’re alone.”

Derek growled softly.

“I’m not alone. I have a pack.”

The vet shook his head solemnly.

“A pack isn’t what you need. You need a mate.”

The alpha scoffed, then gingerly struggled to a sitting position on the mattress.

“I don’t need a-”

“You do, actually. You could kill yourself and your pup without one.”

That startled him into silence.

“Pregnant werewolves need a mate to help them through the process. Keep them fed and safe when they’re too exhausted to move. Keep them holed up securely in the den away from other pack mates. It’s an essential part of the process. Have you ever heard of a single werewolf parent? No? It’s because the pup or the mother very rarely make it through to term. I’m sure it pains you to hear it, but you need someone to take care of you.”

Deaton glanced down towards the alpha’s belly, and it took Derek a few seconds to realize he had wrapped his arms protectively around himself. He growled low in his throat, just to prove he still could.

“One of the betas-”

“Another werewolf won’t work.”

Derek blinked.

“What?”

The vet shrugged slightly before holding his hands palm up in a placating gesture.

“The pup is Peter’s… no matter how disturbing a thought that is, and you cannot ask another werewolf to look after it. They would as soon as kill it, just by instinct alone. If it isn’t theirs, you’ll receive no bond with them. Not the kind of bond you need. That of a mated pair. As your beta’s only, they will protect and love and nurture the pup … but as a mate, their wolves won’t let them.”

“So I need a human?”

Deaton grinned.

“So you need a human.”

Derek huffed a disbelieving breath before falling back onto the mattress.

“So what? I’m just supposed to find some human? Tell them ‘Hi! I’m a werewolf, and pregnant, and in case you haven’t noticed male… but would you mind bonding with me for life and helping me raise this pup? And did I mention it’s my uncle’s?’”

Deaton chuckled softly under his breath.

“Well, when you put it like that … it does sound rather ridiculous.”

Derek snarled loudly and snapped sharp incisors twice in the vet’s general direction.

“I meant no disrespect. Only wanted to point out that none of that will be necessary. You already know the perfect candidate to help you.”

The alpha raised one heavy eyebrow towards the vet in skepticism.

“And who would that be?”

Deaton grinned and Derek suddenly felt nervous.

“Do you mean to tell me that you can’t think of a single human that you know, who has extensive knowledge of werewolves? A kind, generous and loyal soul who repeatedly risks everything for his friends?”

Now Derek was feeling nauseously nervous. He had an idea where this was going.

“Someone for whom family is such a precious and important thing? Who against his better judgment seems to like you enough to, more than once, risk his own life to save yours? You can’t think of anyone like that?”

The werewolf rolled his eyes dramatically before squeezing them closed.

“Fuck.”

“Shall we give him a call?”

Derek idly wondered what would happen if he ripped out Deaton’s throat. With his teeth.

~*~

He wouldn’t say he was nervous. Or scared. He was the alpha for fuck’s sake. This was just a situation that he had never in a million years ever imagined he would have to deal with. Everything he had planned for his future was kind of up in the air at the moment. (Not that he had really planned anything, specific … but the consideration was there.)

Regardless, now he was sitting on the exam table of a veterinarian’s office waiting for a teenager that he barely tolerated most days. A teenager he was going to ask to possibly rearrange his entire future in order to keep him and his pup alive. Dammit. Stiles wasn’t going to do it. There was no way he would agree. Not when Derek explained what being a mate entailed. He’d be lucky if Stiles didn’t burst a blood vessel laughing his way out the door.

It took him a moment to recognize the soft whine echoing in the room was coming from his own throat. Fuck. Deaton sent him a curious smile from where the vet was leaning against the wall.

“You shouldn’t stress so much, it’s bad for the pup.”

Derek’s lips ripped back from his teeth with a rumbling growl. His irritation was cut short by the sound of a familiar engine making it’s way in a hurry toward his current location. He tilted his head slightly towards the sound and Deaton rose from his slouch against the wall.

“He’s here, then?”

The alpha could only nod in response, words clamming up in his throat. It was only a few more minutes of silence until he heard tires squeal to a stop and easily recognizable beats of sneakers darting towards the clinic. The clinic door slammed open and a second later Stiles skidded into the exam room, heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. Derek’s throat clicked as he gulped.

“What is it? What’s wrong? What’s going on? You said it was an emergency. Where is everyone? Why is Derek always half naked?”

Derek snorted under his breath as Stiles paused to gulp down some air. Deaton smiled congenially as he stepped towards the teenager.

“Good evening, Mr. Stilinski… thank you for coming so quickly.”

Stiles nodded absently, glancing repeatedly in Derek’s direction.

“Yeah, uh … you said it was important, so… where’s Scott and the others?”

Deaton smiled and placed a hand softly on Stiles’ shoulder.

“It is important. Very important, Stiles. A matter of life and death, in fact.”

“But then why-”

“However the only pack member we need right now is you.”

The teenager’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline before he turned questioning eyes to Derek. The werewolf couldn’t hold that gaze, knowing what was about to be said. He turned slowly to lay flat on the exam table as Deaton had instructed him to do. His fists were clenched so tightly he half expected to feel his claws piercing into his palms at any moment.

“Is there something wrong with Derek? Isaac said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Derek rumbled his discontent at the idea of his beta informing others of a weakness, but the concern obvious in Stiles’ tone gave him pause. So many times since Laura had been killed, the bitter thought that no one would ever care about him again would shank him right in the gut. Even when Scott had come along, and Isaac and Erica and Boyd… he would have maudlin moments to himself. Wondering if they would even give a shit if he fell off the face of the earth. How much of their attachment to him was based solely on the fact he was their alpha.

They were dark thoughts, but then … he’d had plenty of dark days in his lifetime.

“Indeed, Stiles, there is something wrong with Mr. Hale. But it has the potential to be something quite wonderful.”

Derek closed his eyes as Deaton pulled Stiles right up to the exam table.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

The smile was obvious in the vet’s voice.

“It will. Now let me see your hand.”

Derek’s breath hitched just a fraction when he felt Deaton place Stiles’ hand carefully just below his navel. The hand was easily distinguishable from the vet’s. Softer and smaller, with long fingers cautiously spreading across his belly.

“Um … what am I doing?”

Deaton rested his own palm on top of the teenager’s and a spark of power flit across the werewolf’s nerves.

“Close your eyes, Stiles… tell me what you feel. Concentrate.”

It was completely silent, save for their combined breaths, for at least five minutes before Stiles sucked in a quick gasp. Derek immediately opened his eyes to watch the boy’s face. His mouth had dropped open into a soft ‘o’ but his eyes were still clenched shut.

“I feel that. It’s like a little … flame? A spark? Wow… it’s … wow… what is that?”

Deaton smiled softly, then stepped away and walked out of the room. Fucker. He was leaving all the explanation to Derek. The alpha grumbled just a little deep in his throat, and the sound caused the teenager leaning above him to open his eyes. Derek met his gaze quickly before looking away to the other side of the room. Stiles still hadn’t removed his warm hand from Derek’s belly.

“Derek? What is that?”

The alpha twitched his lips back in a short sneer before forcing himself to relax against the cold metal of the table. He released the fists he had been making and softly gripped the edges of the table instead.

“It’s a … it’s a baby. A pup.”

Stiles gasped on a quick intake of air, and immediately started hacking and coughing. His hand slipped away, and Derek was momentarily bereft from its loss. He wondered if that was the wolf seeking out someone to take care of him, just as Deaton had implied. After a couple moments Stiles was still gulping for air, so Derek sighed and slowly pushed himself to a seated position.

“Do you need some water?”

The teenager shook his head and flapped a hand in Derek’s general direction, which he supposed meant ‘no, thank you, alpha, but bless you for your concern.’ Derek could even hear it in his mind, uttered in Stiles’ sarcastic voice, no less. Another couple minutes passed before the teen had calmed himself enough to meet Derek’s gaze.

“Okay so… so… I’m sorry if I heard this wrong… but I swear you just said you were pregnant.”

Derek dropped his own eyes to his legs, and scratched idly at his jeans.

“There’s a legend. A werewolf legend. I don’t remember everything, but the gist of it was that there was an unmated alpha who desperately desired to have heirs, so he studied the moon and the stars in such great depth that he discovered a secret. On the night of the full moon, when the stars aligned just so … he could plant his pups into whatever body he desired. Regardless of species, regardless of gender. The alpha wolf inside him was so strong it would create a womb of its own inside its partner, to bear the pups.”

At some point while Derek had been speaking, Stiles had slid to the floor and was sitting Indian style with a look of fascinated shock on his face. Derek hopped off the exam table and carefully dropped to the floor before him, leaning back against the legs of the table. Stiles cleared his throat softly before speaking.

“And it’s said that most legends have bases in fact … so … so another alpha… you slept with another alpha on a full moon? And now you’re pregnant?”

Derek knocked his head back against the metal leg of the table and willed himself to remain calm. If he was going to ask Stiles to do this … the kid deserved the truth.

“Not … not exactly.”

Stiles flung his arms out in an irritated huff.

“How ‘not exactly’?”

The werewolf glared unflinchingly at the ceiling of the clinic. He could do this. He just had to open his mouth and fucking talk. Couldn’t be that hard. Stiles never seemed to have any issue with it, anyway.

“Two months ago … on the full moon when Peter tried to come back-”

“Oh my god.”

“-I was still weak. I couldn’t move and-”

“Oh my GOD!”

“-he … he held me down and-”

“OH MY GOD! Stop! Derek! Just stop!”

There were suddenly warm hands on his shoulders. When he shifted his gaze down from the ceiling, Stiles was kneeling before him with a look of horror on his face. Derek attempted to smile just a little to let the teen know he was okay, but he could feel it wobble and fall flat on his lips. Stiles’ eyes looked suspiciously glassy.

“I’m so sorry, Derek. I am so sorry. You don’t have to tell me. You don’t.”

The alpha shook his head.

“I do.”

The teen sat back on his haunches, but continued to grip the werewolf’s shoulders.

“Why? Why me?”

Derek swallowed and felt his throat click.

“Because I have something to ask you… and for that, you deserve the truth.”

Stiles just blinked at him a couple times before nodding jerkily and making a motion with his hands to ‘ask away’. Derek sighed and silently wished that he was better with words.

“Deaton says that I can’t go through this on my own. That even trying to do so… the pup could die … and so could I.”

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath.

“You have a whole pack to take care of you. We won’t let anything happen, Derek! It’ll be fine!”

The alpha shook his head absently.

“That’s not what I need. Not the pack. Not everyone. Just one person … just a … a mate.”

The teen nodded frantically.

“Okay! Okay, so … you need me to reach out to other packs? Find a suitable mate for you? I can do that! I can-why are you shaking your head?”

Derek sighed again. It felt like he’d been doing that a lot lately. It was fucking annoying.

“Can’t be a werewolf. They won’t help to raise another wolf’s pup. They’ll kill it. It goes against our instinct. Unless they’re family, new alpha’s always kill the previous alpha’s offspring.”

Stiles made a face.

“That’s horrible.”

Derek shrugged a shoulder.

“That’s nature.”

After a shiver of disgust, the teenager absently brought his fingers towards his mouth to chew at his fingernails.

“Okay… well … that leaves a human, right? I mean… of course. So, I mean, you just have to find a human mate. One that is preferably not easily freaked out by werewolves. Or your social ineptitude. Or the fact that you’re a pregnant man. Or your judgmental eyebrows.”

The werewolf growled at him, eyes flashing red.

“Or, you know… that. Not to mention the fact that you have severe trust issues. Holy shit… you’re fucked. You’re well and truly-”

“I trust you.”

“-fuuuuuuuuuuuuc- … what did you just say?”

Derek sneered and spoke slowly, taking time to properly enunciate every word.

“I. Trust. You.”

Stiles gaped at him for a full twenty seconds before flinging himself up to his feet.

“OH MY GOD!”

Derek huffed another breath before closing his eyes and leaning back against the table again. He prepared himself for rejection.

“Are you seriously… oh my god! You’re seriously asking me to … you want ME to…”

Not wanting to spend another moment suffering this conversation, Derek slowly levered himself to his feet and turned to go.

“Never mind.”

Stiles immediately snatched at his arm, fingers slipping along the bare skin.

“Wait! Wait! Give me second! Just let me process this for a minute!”

Derek shook his head and wrenched his arm out of the teenager’s grasp.

“Don’t worry about it. I never expected you to agree, but Deaton said-”

“I’LL DO IT!”

Derek froze. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and stare at Stiles in shock. After a moment of silent stillness, the teen moved to stand before the alpha, meeting his eyes with a confident gaze.

“I’ll do it, Derek.”

The werewolf shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“You can’t. Stiles… you can’t. This isn’t… there is no divorce from this. Mates are forever, and you’re only seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

The teen held his head a little higher.

“And if I don’t, you might lose yours, right? And the pup’s? So it’s not okay for me to sacrifice some theoretical future that I might have, but it’s fine for you to risk your life? And the life of your baby?”

The werewolf growled low and turned away toward the door. Stiles’ grip on his arm strengthened.

“What if this is my future? What if this was the path I was always meant to take?”

The alpha sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.

“To be with me forever, Stiles? To help raise a kid when you’re still in high school? To never have the chance at a relationship? Or love? For me? You don’t even like me.”

Stiles groaned dramatically and smacked the alpha softly on the arm.

“Jesus fuck, Derek! You brought me here to ask me to do this, and I’m willing to do it! Get that through your thick Cro-Magnon skull! I like you! We all like you! You’ve made some shitty choices, sure, but you’ve done the best you could with the absolute shit pile you were given. For better or worse, you’re our alpha and we want you to stick around! You don’t get to make this decision for me. You told me the consequences, and I’ve accepted them. So just fucking deal with it already, because I’m going to need your help informing my Dad that he’s going to be a Grandpa without taking a shotgun blast to the face.”

Derek snorted and the tension in his shoulders eased out marginally.

“Now, we need to get to the depot and grab your stuff. Let’s go.”

As the teen started towards the door of the clinic, Derek felt his heart stutter in his chest at the words.

“What? Why?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and waved a goodbye at Deaton, who had suddenly reappeared behind the counter, fucker.

“Because I’m damn sure not living in an abandoned train car… so you’re moving in with me.”



When they reached the train depot, the entire pack was waiting for them. Derek was pretty sure he was still a little in shock at the turn of events that had all just occurred in a single day. A single fucking day. He didn’t even fight or argue when Stiles ushered him into the depot and immediately manhandled him to sitting on the lone couch. The beta’s all shifted around him nervously, even Allison and Lydia seemed off-put by his silence. When Derek continued to remain mute, Stiles sighed and clapped his hands together, the sounded rocketing through the walls of the station.

“Right, so … Hale pack, we’re dismantling the depot. We need to get rid of any evidence we were ever here. You’ll all need to just stay with your families for a while. I’ll let you know when we set up a new meeting place. It’ll most likely be my house, if my Dad doesn’t kill me first. Isaac, do you have a place to stay?”

The beta in question nodded his head before sending a worried glance Derek’s way. Jackson pushed right up into Stiles’ face and sneered.

“Why the fuck should we listen to you, Stilinski? You don’t have any authority here.”

With that said, he shoved Stiles hard in the shoulder. In the next instant Derek was lunging at Jackson, snarling and snapping his teeth, trying to rip to beta’s face right off his head. The only thing that stopped him were Boyd’s massive arms wrapped around his chest. The pack was stunned silent and still. Boyd’s deep voice cut through the sound of Derek’s persistent growling.

“Apparently, he does. So get moving.”

They all wandered off quickly, Jackson looking a little worse for wear. Stiles stepped directly into Derek’s line of sight and met his gaze without flinching.

“Derek, calm down.”

Just those three little words soothed all the roiling emotions inside of him, and Derek had the urge to bang his head against the wall. Apparently his wolf had already decided. Stiles was his mate. He instinctually trusted that he only had the alpha’s best interests in mind. Boyd’s arms slipped away and Stiles turned to address the massive beta.

“Thanks, Boyd. Can you do me a favor and lose Derek’s bed somewhere? We’ll take care of packing up whatever else he’s got in there.”

The other teenager nodded and set about his task. When Stiles wedged himself through the broken door of the rail car, he seemed fairly surprised to see that not much packing needed to be done. All of Derek’s meager belongings were stashed away in a single trunk. There were some random pieces of clothes scattered about in all their monochromatic glory. Black, white, gray and every shade in between. So he has a theme. Deal. The alpha shifted to lean back into the cushions of the couch and observed the teen throw everything he owned into the trunk before enlisting Scott’s help to carry it out to his jeep.

It was less than an hour before the presence of a werewolf pack completely disappeared from the abandoned depot. Derek was just about to head outside towards the cars when Isaac shuffled up next to him. The beta’s eyes were huge with concern and he fumbled a minute before speaking.

“Are you … okay?”

Derek just nodded silently in response as he watched Lydia cuffing Jackson on the back of the head for some unseen offense. The newest werewolf flinched before shrugging his shoulders helplessly in confusion.

“You’re not mad at me for calling Deaton?”

The alpha finally turned to meet his beta’s gaze directly.

“No. It’s good you did.”

Isaac responded with a tiny smile. Derek sighed before reaching into his jacket pocket and tossing his keys to the beta.

“You get the Camaro for now, but I don’t want to find a single scratch on it when I take it back.”

The grin that blossomed on the teen’s face was almost blinding. Derek turned quickly away to slip out of the warehouse and lean against the passenger side of Stiles’ jeep. It only took another minute or two for the owner of said jeep to stumble out of the depot and join him at the vehicle.

“Okay, well that’s almost done. I think we’re good to go ahead and leave. Are you hungry?”

Derek considered the question. He hadn’t eaten all day, but just the idea of throwing up dinner in the morning was almost enough to make him consider forfeiting it altogether. Then Stiles’ stomach growled loud enough to be heard even without the superior werewolf senses. Well, hell … fuck it. Derek shrugged his shoulder and was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Awesome! What’s not making you sick right now? Any freaky cravings yet?”

The alpha had been in the process of sliding into the passenger seat of the jeep, but the words made him pause. The questions themselves weren’t strange, but the reasons behind them were kind of poking his brain with a stick. Shock was warring with incredulity inside his skull. A lot of things from the past twenty four hours were finally starting to sink in. Not the least of which were the fact that a) there was currently a baby growing inside of him, and b) he had essentially agreed to get married to Stiles Stilinski.

He huffed a laugh before clicking his seat belt into place.

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

Stiles ‘hmmed’ in thought before starting the engine and speeding out of the warehouse district.

~*~

‘Whatever’ turned out to be a fast food burger joint. Stiles jammed curly fries into his mouth while Derek picked at his grilled chicken sandwich and side salad. (Which the teen had badgered him into getting.) Then they stopped at a local pharmacy for calcium shakes designed especially for pregnant women. (Which the teen had badgered him into getting.) After which was a quick visit to a local bookstore for the express purpose of purchasing a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’. (Which the teen had badgered him into getting.)

Derek sensed this relationship was going to have a theme.

By the time they made it to the Stilinski residence, Derek was just about dead on his feet. He had enough strength to assist Stiles with dragging his trunk upstairs and stashing it in the teen’s closet, but then he could feel himself wavering on tired legs. Stiles took one look at him and ushered the alpha straight into the teenager’s own bed. Derek tried to protest, but it had been so long since he had slept on a proper mattress that he was out in less that five minutes. At some point in the night he registered the sound of the Sheriff pulling up into the drive and trudging his way up the steps to his room. Thankfully he didn’t stop outside the door, just silently moved down the hall to his own space.

The next conscious thought he had was the recognition of the sound of a gun being cocked nearby, and the brightness of the sun warming his face. Then the GUN part registered and his eyes flew open. Sheriff Stilinski was poised at the end of the bed, handgun at the ready and a steady glare lasering in on Derek’s forehead.

“Mr. Hale. Good Morning.”

Derek had to forcefully keep his features into the most innocent and neutral expression he could.

“Sheriff.”

The sound of the werewolf’s voice caused a commotion of noise and flailing in the corner of the room, and Derek realized that Stiles had been asleep at his computer desk. The way the teen’s eyes widened to an extreme proportion and his jaw nearly hit the floor would have been humorous. Perhaps in a different situation.

“DAD! NO! What are you doing?!”

Stiles was up in an instant, flinging himself across the room and placing his own body directly between Derek and his father’s handgun. Something in the alpha’s heart unclenched. His wolf practically preened at its obviously wonderful choice of a mate, to step so selflessly into danger to protect he and the pup. (No matter that there was no way the Sheriff was going to shoot his own kid. The wolf kind of turned a blind eye to that little fact.) Derek reached for the little spark in his belly, and the miniscule bond answered him. Reassured him.

“What I’m doing, Stiles… is wondering why there is a suspected murderer asleep in your bed.”

“Exonerated.”

The word had echoed from both Derek and Stiles’ lips simultaneously, and the Sheriff quirked an eyebrow. The gun, however, was quickly tucked away.

“I’m thinking an explanation is in order?”

Stiles nodded and sighed in relief as he sank down on the bed. He didn’t even seem to notice that his hand came to rest on Derek’s leg. Derek did. His wolf did. And Sheriff Stilinski damn sure did. The older man crossed his arms over his chest and glanced between them a couple times with a calculating look.

“Is this where you’re finally going to talk to me about all the werewolves in Beacon Hills?”

There was a second of stunned silence in the room before Stiles erupted into squawks and questions, but Derek’s dinner suddenly chose that moment to announce its desire to vacate his stomach. He launched himself from the bed, hoping desperately that the elder Stilinski didn’t shoot him in the back, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom barely in time to puke the little he’d eaten last night into a much cleaner toilet than he was used to.

He heaved for what seemed like hours before his stomach gave him a break, and he settled back on his haunches, trembling and sweated. Only then did he realize that there was a cool hand rubbing up and down his spine in a soothing manner, and another dabbing a moist washcloth across his brow. He lifted his gaze to meet the teenager’s hovering over him, surprised to find an equally worried expression on the Sheriff standing in the doorway. The older man stepped forward and offered up a can of ginger ale. Derek blinked at him a couple times in shock before cautiously reaching forward to grab the drink. Stiles wiped at the alpha’s face a few more times with the cloth before nodding toward the can.

“Just a couple sips. Settle your stomach.”

Derek nodded numbly, but complied. Faced with this sudden kindness from two humans who owed him absolutely nothing … he was a little floored. Stiles took the soda from him and set it on the counter.

“Can you make it back to the bed?”

The werewolf took stock of himself. His stomach was empty, but calm for the moment. He felt weak, but not debilitatingly so. A quick pulse through the bond to his little spark was answered merrily in return. He nodded and slowly stood. Stiles helped to maneuver him through the doorway and back toward his own bedroom. The Sheriff cleared his throat behind them.

“I wouldn’t think that werewolves could get a stomach bug.”

The hands carefully gripping Derek’s arms tensed for a brief second before Stiles responded to his father.

“He’s not sick.”

Sheriff Stilinski chuffed a soft laugh.

“That’s not what that looked like to me, son.”

Stiles sighed, breath ghosting across the shell of Derek’s ear, but the alpha ignored his nearness in favor of staring at the warm/soft/comfortable bed calling to him from across the room. He practically dove into it when it was near enough. He rolled around in the covers, pushing, pulling and tugging until they were all wrapped around him just so and he subconsciously let out a soft rumble of contentment.

Then he noticed the utter silence of the room. A quick glance over his shoulder found a pair of Stilinski’s with nearly identically bemused expressions on their faces. Derek scowled at them. Stiles snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘nesting’ under his breath, before coming over to sit on the bed himself, leaning against the headboard, thigh a warm line against Derek’s back.

“Okay, Dad … so … tell us what you already know.”

For a while after that Derek just listened to the soft cadence of the humans in the room conversing back and forth. He knew Stiles well enough to trust the teen not to slip any information the Sheriff didn’t really need to know into the conversation. So he just listened, and dozed a little, as Stiles recounted the tale of Scott and Peter and Laura (which caused Derek to growl just a little into his pillow). They spoke of Jackson, as the kanima first, and a werewolf later. They spoke of Matt and what he’d done. Lydia and her immunity. Allison and her crazed werewolf hunting family. (Derek growled a little louder that time, and Stiles placed a warm hand on his shoulder.)

They didn’t speak of Kate.

The Sheriff admitted that he’d had some equally strange and enlightening conversations with Melissa McCall, that led him down the path to his supernatural discoveries. He also told Stiles that he wasn’t the Sheriff based on his stunning good looks alone. Derek found himself wanting to chuckle at the deadpan delivery of the man’s words, and then … it hit him.

How utterly domestic this all was.

He felt warm and safe, curled into a ball in a teenager’s bed, with said teenager absently tapping soft fingertips against Derek’s bare shoulder where the boy’s hand still rested. Soft, similar voices filling the room. Discussing his past and present. An authority figure the werewolf knew for a fact was a good man, accepting him here in his home, even though he knew the truth. The bond of something precious nestled deep inside of him. And just like that, he understood what Deaton had meant. How a wolf couldn’t do this alone.

My God, Laura, if you could see me right now… you’d be laughing your fucking ass off.

There was a steady rumbling in the room that he wasn’t paying attention to, until Stiles chuckled and shook his shoulder gently.

“Derek? Are you asleep?”

The alpha opened his eyes (he hadn’t remembered closing them) and rolled slowly onto his back to lift a questioning brow to the boy above him. Stiles smirked.

“I think you’re purring, dude.”

The rumbling instantly stopped and Derek bared his teeth at the teen.

“Don’t call me dude.”

A soft snort reminded him that the Sheriff was still present in the room. Perched on the computer chair at the foot of the bed. Stiles glanced quickly at his father and then back to Derek.

“Dad was asking why you were sick this morning.”

The alpha could feel his eyes widen to match the teen’s, and he quickly scooted to a seated position beside his- … Stiles. The Sheriff, for his part, watched them with a curious and amused expression on his face. Apparently he had taken all the werewolf information pretty well, or perhaps more likely … he was just happy to be in the loop with his son once again. Derek cleared his throat and tried to meet the older man’s gaze, but couldn’t make it further than the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t have anything, sir. I’m not … ill.”

“Then what’s the matter, son?”

Now Derek’s gaze snapped straight to the older man’s. His throat felt tight, and his heart skipped a beat or two, but there was nothing judgmental in the Sheriff’s eyes. Not any more. There was concern and acceptance, and fucking shit this must be a pregnancy thing because he could swear his eyes were burning like he might cry. He just kept thinking about Stiles saying his dad was going to be Grandpa … and dammit … the alpha cleared his throat again.

“There’s … there’s something that I thought was just a werewolf legend. And it’s going to sound crazy.”

The Sheriff arched an eyebrow. (Derek internally complimented his technique.)

“Crazier than werewolves?”

Derek and Stiles both nodded at the same time. The former sending the latter a brief glare before turning back to the older man.

“Yes, sir.”

The elder Stilinski motioned with his hand for the alpha to continue.

“It’s extremely rare. But Deaton confirmed it. You can get him to verify.”

Derek risked a quick glance to Stiles, but the teen was captively staring at his father’s face, as if willing the older man not to freak out about what was going to be revealed. The werewolf sucked in a quick breath and just figured… to hell with it.

“I’m pregnant.”

The Sheriff blinked. Stiles nodded. Derek continued.

“With a … baby.”

The Sheriff blinked again. Stiles nodded. Derek elaborated.

“A werewolf baby.”

The Sheriff stood and quickly walked out of the room. Derek turned to the teen beside him, but Stiles was just gaping at the doorway to his bedroom. The Sheriff suddenly walked back into the bedroom and paced the length of the bed a few times before he turned towards them, voice demanding and stern.

“Is it my son’s?”

Derek blanked. He just … mind-wiped for a minute or two. He barely registered Stiles jumping from the bed and shrilly extolling his innocence. He barely registered the Sheriff declaring that what else was he supposed to think when the two of them were cozied up together in Stiles’ bed. Derek could only really think about one thing.

What if?

What if it was Stiles’ pup he was carrying in his temporary womb? What if the babe had been conceived out of consent? From a bonded pair? Instead of being held down and … instead of …

“I wish it was.”

His voice was so soft, he didn’t expect them to even hear the words, but the room fell into silence instantly. He could feel the weight of two sets of eyes boring into him, but Derek could only look down at his hands playing absently with the bedding. He licked his lips, then finally lifted his gaze to meet Stiles’ wide eyes.

“I wish it was yours … rather than-”

There was a pained look in the teen’s eyes, but Derek quickly turned away from it to meet the Sheriff’s instead.

“Your son and I aren’t together. We’re barely even friends. I haven’t touched him, I swear it.”

The older man nodded and Derek forced himself to continue.

“Two months ago on the full moon, my uncle found a way to temporarily come back to life. He had me drugged and then he raped me. With the express intention of getting me pregnant with his child. The drugs didn’t wear off in time, but when they did… I killed him.”

The Sheriff sank down heavily into his abandoned chair. The look on his face was stunned, at best.

“I don’t want pity. I don’t want sympathy. But I do want this child. No matter how it was conceived, it’s an innocent result of a horrible act … and now the only family I have left.”

With those heavy words lifted from his chest, Derek sank back into the comfort of the bed. He was exhausted and a little sick at heart from having to tell yet another person what his uncle had done. He didn’t want to be perceived as a victim. As weak. He closed his eyes to escape any judgment he might be able to read on the faces of the humans in the room.

The bed dipped as Stiles sat down next to the alpha’s side.

“Dad… Deaton told Derek that pregnant werewolves can’t survive on their own. They need a partner… a mate… to look after them and protect them when they’re vulnerable. Derek asked me, and I’ve accepted.”

A sharp intake of breath was the only sign that the older man was still involved in the conversation.

“So even though the baby isn’t mine by blood, it’s going to be mine. A mate bond is for life. So it’s going to be me, Derek and the kid … forever.”

The Sheriff sighed.

“But you’re not gay.”

Stiles laughed and Derek could feel the motion through the springs of the bed.

“I always told you I could be. But it doesn’t matter. Derek isn’t either. We’ll find a way to make it work. They need me, and I’m not going to let them down.”

The alpha sucked in a quick breath at the words, warmth spreading through his veins. His wolf wanted to howl happily to the pack, tell him his joy, but he stuffed it down. When he finally opened his eyes once more, the Sheriff was staring at him thoughtfully, eyes flicking down to Derek’s abdomen frequently. The older man cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well … as long as I get to be Grandpa.”

Stiles’ laugh was loud and relieved. He stood quickly to launch himself at his father and hugged him tightly. The elder just shook his head and patted his son on the back warmly. Derek turned away from the affectionate scene to glance out the window. There was a soft clearing of a throat after a moment, so the werewolf turned back to find both Stilinski’s staring down out him. The Sheriff was holding a hand out to Derek expectantly.

“Sorry, son… but the Stilinski men hug it out.”

The alpha could feel his eyes go comically wide, but he slowly lifted his hand to the Sheriff’s and allowed the older man to pull him to his feet. Almost instantly there were warm arms around him, hands softly patting him on the back, and a smell of age and wisdom that reminded him so much of his own father his knees felt a little weak. The Sheriff stepped back with a smile on his face. He lifted his hand to pat softly at Derek’s cheek.

“You can call me John.”

Derek nodded absently as the older man turned and walked out of the room.

~*~
PART TWO