a/n: hi everyone! here's the next fic in my whatever comes our way' verse. hope you like it.

reading order can be found here.

Stiles is sleeping.

Or at least he's attempting to sleep, cheek rubbing against his pillow as he burrows further into the mattress, the covers pulled up to his chin.

He knows he'll have to get up soon, knows he'll have to go shower and get ready and go to work, but for now he can pretend he's got nowhere to be but right here. In his bed. With-

"Shhh. Can you two be quiet for me? We're trying not to wake Daddy."

Stiles tries to hide his smile against his arm, knowing he fails miserably when he hears two pairs of voices asking, "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Daddy," Derek says softly, and Stiles doesn't need to see him to know he's smiling. "He's worked really hard this last week, so we're letting him sleep for a few more minutes before he has to get up and go to work again."

"Not that you're being very good at that," Stiles mumbles, blinking his eyes opened, and his heart melts at the sight in front of him.

Derek's grinning down at him, unapologetic, still in his sleep shirt and the pajama pants with little sheeps on them Stiles bought him last time he went clothes shopping for the twins.

Stiles can tell he hasn't bothered shaving yet—like he didn't the day before that and the day before that—, and the sight of Derek's now salt and pepper beard will never not make Stiles want to kiss him stupid.

You know, after maybe making fun of him for a little bit.

Stiles remembers when it first started showing up, the greying hair, on his beard and at the sides of his head and his temple, right after the twins' first birthday and a few weeks shy of Derek turning forty.

He remembers Derek's frown as he stared at himself and scratched at the hair on his cheeks, his eyes finding Stiles's in the mirror, the deep sigh he let out as he said this was all Stiles's fault for driving him crazy.

Not that Stiles minded taking the blame for that one.

Since, you know, Derek with greying hair? Totally a turn on for Stiles.

Except for when his hair is being used as a handle for Charlie—who's wearing her favorite Batman pajama set, courtesy of Erica—to stand up straight up on their bed. Then it's just about the most adorable thing Stiles has ever seen.

Kind of like right now.

Derek has an arm around her in case she falls down, but Charlie seems pretty sure of herself as she bounces a little on the mattress and smiles, hands still tangled on Derek's hair.

Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip not to make any embarrassing sounds at the sight; or at the way Derek winces whenever Charlie tugs too hard but still doesn't make any moves to dislodge her.

And Tony—in his Lego Star Wars pajamas that Stiles loves more than he does—is happy to be between Derek's leg and Stiles's side, trying to wrap and unwrap himself up with the end of one of their blankets. Only his nose and feet peek out from under the fabric as he rolls from one end to the other, and Stiles catches him glaring up at Derek whenever Derek has to pull at the blanket so it won't end up cutting off his air supply.

Derek stopped trying to call him Will about three weeks after they brought the twins home, resigning himself to the name choice after it became clear their son totally ignored him whenever Derek tried to address him as that.

Stiles might have cheered.

And then he also might have blown Derek in the shower while the twins were asleep in an effort to cheer him up.

"I blame you for our kids' tendency to not do as they're told," Derek tells him, giving him a long look.

Stiles makes a face at him; mostly because it's not his fault.

And also because if, at two and a half years old, they're this stubborn, Stiles doesn't even want to know what they'll be like as teenagers.

And then he makes a big show of waking up, yawning and turning on his side and stretching his arms above his head, knowing the twins will be on him in about five seconds after they notice he's—

"Daddy!" Charlie yells, falling down on her butt and squirming around until she's kneeling by Stiles's head.

"Morning, monkey," Stiles smiles widely at her, sitting up so and hugging her close to him. "How are you today?"

"Good," Charlie nods, wrinkling her nose at him when Stiles swipes her hair away from her face and kisses her forehead.

"What about you, bud?" Stiles turns to Tony, who's crawling on all fours to him, blanket still draped over his back. "You doing okay?"

"Yes. Okay," Tony says, gripping Stiles's shirt so he can hoist himself up and on to Stiles's lap, only to get away as soon as Stiles smacks a kiss on his cheek.

"And you, baby?" Stiles asks Derek, eyes bright. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Derek shrugs, opening his arms up for Tony and hugging him to his side.

"Really?" Stiles narrows his eyes at him, curling one hand around Charlie and the other around the back of Derek's neck so he can pull him into a chaste kiss. "What about now?"

"'S okay," Derek smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "But it'd be better if you came down with us to have some breakfast."

Stiles looks at Charlie snuggling against his chest, at Tony trying to hide under their blankets again, at Derek breaking eye contact with him to hold the fabric up to make sure their son doesn't suffocate, and says, all fondness, "Yes, I'd like that."

They have breakfast down to an art, coming up with a routine after the twins started sleeping through the night. Derek cooks while Stiles sits at the table with the kids, making sure they have enough toys to keep themselves entertained while the food isn't ready.

It settles something deep in Stiles's chest to see his family like this, all in one room together.

This was always something he wanted for himself, something he wished he could have with Derek, and it makes him impossibly happy to see how far they've come and know their dreams came true.

Derek still runs the garage, but does it mostly from home. He put Erica in charge a few months after the twins were born, telling her he'd only stop byonce every couple of weeks to make sure she didn't destroy the place, and hired another two mechanics to help her and Isaac.

That means he spends most of his time at their house with the twins while Stiles is at work.

When Stiles first met Derek, he never thought Derek would feel comfortable basically being a stay at home dad. Seeing the ease in which he takes care of the kids, though, makes him glad to be proven wrong.

Like when Derek helps Tony build block houses and makes sure he doesn't try to stuff any of the blocks in his mouth or when he lets their son fall asleep on top of him on the couch.

And like when Derek dances with Charlie around the living room to The Little Mermaid soundtrack or traps her between his thighs and keeps her still while he does her hair in pigtails or braids or something else he got Allison to teach him.

Because for some reason, even at only two and a half, Charlie only lets Derek get his hands anywhere close to her hair.

There were tears the last time Stiles tried.

They were all mostly from him, but still.

It wasn't pretty.

So Derek stays at home with the kids most times, while Stiles and Danny go around saving people from themselves and patching them up all around Beacon Hills.

Stiles has been taking mostly morning shifts since he became a dad, something he's grateful to Chief Finstock for allowing.

That way he's always home in time for dinner, and the times he's needed at work for a few extra hours, he still manages to be there by bedtime to kiss Tony and Charlie goodnight.

Sometimes he's still needed during night shifts, though, or needs to stay even later than usual. Kind of like it's been happening this past week, with two of their EMTs out sick and him and Danny having to cover for them.

"Are you and Danny still on for nights this week?" Derek asks, refilling Stiles's coffee mug and dropping a quick kiss against his temple.

Stiles makes a pleased noise, taking a sip of his drink before picking up Bunny Yummy from the floor after Charlie accidentally knocks him over.

"Last night was the last one," Stiles says, grinning when Charlie takes the stuffed animal from him and goes back to playing. "I have tomorrow and the next day off, and then we'll go back to our regular schedule next week."

"That's good," Derek says, looking at Stiles from over his shoulder, eyes soft. "We missed you around here."

"Obviously," Stiles sniffs, and then turns to the twins. "Right, guys? Weren't you miserable without Daddy here to kiss you good night and read you bedtime stories the right away?"

"No," Charlie and Tony say at the same time, not even bothering to look up from their toys.

Stiles pouts.

And ignores the snort from Derek.

He's not afraid to admit that the few nights he had to stay over at the firehouse were hard on him.

He's actually kind of surprised Danny didn't punch him after the first couple of hours of Stiles telling him just how much it sucked to be away from Derek and their kids and how badly he missed them.

"You know they missed you," Derek says, rolling his eyes when Stiles makes a face at him. "Charlie grabbed one of your shirts from the laundry basket and refused to let go and Tony glared at me the entire way through story time."

"You don't know how to do the voices right," Stiles mumbles, heart constricting in his chest.

Derek snorts again, lips curling up in a smile. "Trust me, our son made me very aware of that."

Stiles glances at Tony, who's frowning in concentration as he tries to pile his toys on top of each other. He looks so much like Derek when he's trying to make sense of the garage's paperwork that Stiles can't help but smile.

"Who do you think taught him to silently judge people?" Stiles asks him. "Because that was all you and your eyebrows, boo."

Derek proves his point by giving him the don't get me started on your shit eyebrow twitch, which only makes Stiles smile wider.

"I'm not gonna dignify that with a response."

"That's because you know I'm right," Stiles tells him, and blows Derek a kiss when Derek huffs.

"Papa," Charlie says, slapping the hand not holding Bunny Yummy on the table to get his attention.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Derek turns to her, a soft smile playing on his lips.

A soft smile that makes Stiles's stomach flip and his heart tug painfully in his chest, because Derek looks so happy right then, watching their daughter while making waffles.

Especially when Charlie doesn't say anything and just blows him a kiss, much like Stiles did before.

Stiles has to bite down on his bottom lip not to make any embarrassing noises at the cuteness of it all.

Not that Derek is that successful in doing the same, sounding a bit choked up when he laughs and comes to her, running his fingers through her hair before kissing the tip of her nose.

"Love you, Charlie," Derek says, so quietly Stiles almost misses it.

"Same," Charlie nods, raising a hand up for a high-five.

Stiles laughs, delighted, because he totally assumes the blame for that one.

Derek just shakes his head at both of them, trying to hide his own grin, but gives Charlie her high-five.

And Tony, too, when he walks by him to see their son with a smile on his face and his hand raised as well.

"Love you, buddy," Derek tells him when he does.

"Thank you," Tony says, before going back to his pile of toys.

"You're welcome," Derek says seriously, running a hand over his head before going back to the waffles.

"You almost done?" Stiles asks, glancing at the twins to make sure they're okay before getting up.

"Yeah. Should be just a few more minutes."

Stiles gives Derek a kiss on the cheek as he passes by him to grab plates for them and glasses for the kids, and also juice, milk, and the syrup from the fridge.

He lays it all out of the table, as far away from Tony's grabby hands and Charlie's curious ones for them not to have any problems.

He still remembers the nightmare that it was trying to get syrup out of Tony's hair and Charlie's clothes the one time he left the bottle close to them and took his eyes off of them for longer than two seconds.

He doesn't want a repeat of it.

As it is, he still has to keep Tony from sitting up on the chair and trying to climb on top of the table.

"Do you want juice or milk?" Stiles asks him, jiggling the cartons in front of him in an attempt to distract Tony from the syrup bottle.

Tony blinks at him and looks from one to the other. "Juice and milk."

"No," Stiles shakes his head. "It's either or."

Tony blinks again. "Or."

"Milk it is," Stiles nods, knowing Tony means the second option. "Charlie?"

"Juice."

"Derek?"

"Juice," Derek says, running a hand up Stiles's back as he sets the plate of waffles on the table.

Stiles leans into the touch, Derek a line of warmth against his side, as he goes about pouring the drinks.

Breakfast goes off without a hitch, the twins being old enough to sit still and eat their food without too much trouble and thanking Derek with hugs and kisses for the food.

Stiles might also steal a kiss or two.

Or maybe five.

Mostly in thanks, but also just because.

They've been together for a decade, and Stiles still can't get enough of Derek's mouth against his own.

Or Derek's anything against his, really.

Or on him.

Or in him.

Especially in him.

And Stiles stops that line of thought right then, because he still has dishes to do before he can go jerk off in the shower.

Because if there's one thing Stiles can say about having kids is that his sex life is not as great as it used to be.

Well, that's not exactly true.

Sex with Derek is still great.

More than great.

It's fucking amazing.

But they don't have it as much as they used to, not with two kids in the house.

They mostly survive on stolen moments when the twins are having their afternoon nap, or whenever they get someone to babysit.

Which leave Stiles with only his hand for company a lot of the time.

Not that he's thinking of that right now, because dishes.

When he's done, he finds Derek sitting on the floor of the living room with the twins, watching cartoons.

Or rather, Derek watching cartoons while Tony is bringing down all of their throw pillows and Charlie is taking a nap half on top of Derek's thigh and half on the floor.

Stiles presses his lips together.

And then comes to sit down right next to Derek, but not before rearranging all the pillows Tony grabbed and the quilt they always leave over the back of the couch into a makeshift nest, depositing a sleepy Charlie and a grumpy Tony right in the middle.

He figures he can be a couple of minutes late to work if it means getting his cuddle on with his husband and kids.

Especially when Derek throws an arm over his shoulders and tugs him close, his head turning to the side, pressing his smile and a kiss against Stiles's temple.

It's a good start to his morning.

Stiles takes back everything about thinking this is a good morning.

Because it's not.

Not even close.

Not when the first thing he hears when he gets out of Scott's car—the Jeep has been decommissioned after breaking down one too many times while Stiles was trying to drive anywhere, and he still can't bring himself to buy a new one—for their joint shift is something that sounds like a cry.

A baby's cry.

A baby that should not be anywhere near a firehouse at eight in the morning.

Which can only mean—

"Fuck," Stiles curses, entire body growing cold as he tries to follow the sound.

"I'll grab a few blankets and call Finstock over," Scott calls after him, running into the station after Stiles waves him off.

In the entire time Stiles has been working as an EMT for the Beacon Hills Fire Department, he's only known of someone making use of the safe-haven law once.

He'd been fresh out of training, getting to work to find one of the firefighters with a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket, eyes burning, mouth set in a grim line.

Chief Finstock had been the one to explain what was happening, his subdue voice a heavy contrast to how bright and loud he usually was, telling them all how sometimes this happened—a parent not being able to care for their child leaving them at hospitals, police stations, firehouses—and explaining how they should all proceed.

Stiles remembers how much he wished back then to not have the opportunity to put that knowledge to test.

And he's still wishing that now, as he follows the cries that only grow louder and louder, stomach churning.

He can't help but think of Charlie and Tony, who by now must be running around the house with Derek by their heels, his throat closing up at knowing they're safe and happy and warm and fed.

Possibly unlike this kid, whose sobs are like a knife to Stiles's heart.

And whose red scrunched up and tear-stained face when Stiles finally finds him, between the bushes around the left side of the building, are enough to bring tears to his own eyes.

The baby can't be more than a few days old, dressed in a thin cotton grey onesie and wearing a white beanie, little hands and feet kicking up from the battered car seat he's in.

Stiles doesn't hesitate to scoot the baby up, holding the kid tightly against his chest, pressing his lips against the crown of his—or her—head, and making soothing noises as he rocks him, hoping to calm him down a little.

"It's okay, little guy," Stiles says. "Or little girl. I don't know. But you're gonna be okay now. I've got you."

It takes about ten seconds after that for Scott and Finstock to run up to him, with Scott holding a blanket in his hand and his phone in the other.

Chief Finstock, for his turn, has the coded identification bracelet they need to place on the baby once they accept custody, making sure to do it quickly and without jostling the child too much.

"No sign of the parents?" he asks once he's done, looking around.

"No," Stiles says quietly.

"I called Allison," Scott tells him. "She told us to come by the hospital as fast as we can."

"And I called the child welfare department and your father. They'd meet up with you there," Chief Finstock says, eyes coming to rest on the baby, his jaw set. "Abandoned babies wasn't what I had in mind when I decided to become a firefighter."

There's nothing really either Stiles or Scott can say to that, so they assure Finstock that they'll take care of things before grabbing the car seat from the ground and going to Scott's car.

The baby is still crying, not as much as he was before Stiles picked him up but enough to make Stiles even more worried.

"He must be hungry," Scott says as he drives, glancing at them through the rearview mirror.

Stiles is with the baby in the backseat, pulling at the ends of the blanket Scott gave him and making sure the kid is bundled up tight.

"I know," Stiles presses his lips together. "Nothing we can do about that until we get to the hospital, though."

There are a few beats of silence while Stiles starts humming one of the few songs that are guaranteed to make Tony and Charlie go to sleep before Scott says, "I better drive fast, then."

Allison is already waiting for them when they get to the hospital, eyes tight with concern.

She doesn't waste any time before taking the baby from Stiles and getting him checked out, promising him she'll be back and keep him updated.

"You doing okay, dude?" Scott asks him as they find a chair in the waiting room, clapping a hand on Stiles's shoulder.

"Yeah, just—," Stiles shakes his head, letting out a heavy breath.

"I know," Scott says quietly. "Kids shouldn't be left like that. But maybe this one will have a chance of a better future now."

Stiles swallows hard, hoping to fuck that's true.

The Sheriff arrives about five minutes later, holding Stiles tight when Stiles stands up and hugs him.

"Come on," his dad says, running a hand over Stiles's head. "Tell me what happened."

Stiles does, glad to have his dad there with him.

His dad normally wouldn't be involved in something like this, unless someone surrendered their child to himself or one of his deputies. But since there were no sign of the baby's parents so they could gather some basic medical information and try to give them a copy of the bracelet, Stiles knows his dad will make some calls to see if he can find them.

"I don't know how long he'd been there," Stiles tells him, scrubbing a hand over his face. "The crying started just when we got to the firehouse. He could have been there for hours—"

"Don't think like that," the Sheriff says firmly. "The important thing is that you found him and got him help."

"I guess," Stiles shrugs, giving his dad a sad smile. "Doesn't exactly make me feel better though."

Before his dad can say anything, Allison comes back, looking decidedly less worried.

"He's stable," Allison informs them, reaching out to grab Stiles's hand and give it a squeeze. "He's a few days old, as far as we can tell, and aside from being a little dehydrated and hungry, everything seems fine."

"Thank fuck," Stiles breathes out, shoulders slumping, before his head snaps back up. "So he's a he?"

"He's a little boy, yes, and he has all of his fingers and toes," Allison says, a small smile on her lips, before her expression turns serious again. "Did you call Child Services?"

"Finstock did before we came here," Stiles waves a hand. "Someone should be arriving soon."

"I'll wait with you until they get here," the Sheriff says, eyes soft when Stiles gives him a grateful look.

"I'll head back to the station and let Finstock know everything's fine," Scott says, pulling Stiles into a hug. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles nods, voice muffle by Scott's shirt. "Thanks, bro."

Scott says his goodbyes to the Sheriff and Allison, clapping Stiles on the shoulder before leaving.

'Do you want to see him?" Allison asks Stiles, lips tipped up.

"Can I?" Stiles blinks at her, trying not to sound too hopeful.

And failing miserably.

Not that anyone can blame him.

He needs to make sure the baby is really okay, especially after finding him the way he did.

"Yeah, come on."

Stiles trails after Allison, heart clenching when he finally sees the baby. They changed him out of his clothes and beanie and wrapped him in a new blanket, and he's now happily being fed by a nurse, his soft cheeks pink and face content.

"There he is," Allison says, knocking their shoulders together. "I have to go back to work, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Stiles nods, pulling her into a quick hug and thanking her.

"Is he doing okay?" Stiles asks when the turns to the nurse, sticking his hands into the pockets of his pants to keep himself from reaching out.

"Yes," the nurse tells him, smiling down at the baby. "And he should be better after he eats and you burp him."

Stiles startles. "Me? Really?"

"If you'd like to, yes," the nurse nods, chuckling lowly when Stiles practically throws himself at him.

The kid fusses a little when he's passed from the nurse to Stiles, but it doesn't take him long to settle into Stiles's arms and go back to suckling the nipple from the bottle.

Stiles stares down at him, finally feeling a bit of the tension ease from his body at knowing the baby's now safe and in good hands, being taken care of.

The fact that Stiles is the one doing that himself doesn't have anything to do with it.

Really, it doesn't.

Because Stiles knows he can't get attached.

Nevermind how cute the baby is with his pink cheeks and tiny feet and hair so black it kind of reminds Stiles of Derek's.

And nevermind the little happy sound he makes when Stiles ducks his head and presses a kiss to his forehead.

And also the greenish gray color of his eyes when he opens them briefly, not really focusing on anything before closing them again.

See?

There's no getting attached thing going on here.

Stiles knows that this kid isn't his and he has no rights to keep him, he really fucking does.

Really.

"Oh, hell."

Stiles looks up from the baby to find his dad leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, with a look on his face that's half fondness and half but of course this is happening.

"I'm sorry," Stiles tries, shrugging one shoulder.

The Sheriff shakes his head at him, because they both know Stiles isn't sorry at all.

"I think you should probably call Derek," his dad says, resigned. "Before someone from Child Services gets here."

Stiles sighs, looking from his dad to the baby he's refused to let go of.

Yeah, calling Derek sounds like something he should do.

Stiles is still holding the baby when Derek gets to the hospital, all cheeks flushed and worried eyes and hair a mess from wearing a helmet.

He's panting and also sweating a little, and that more than anything tells Stiles he ran all the way up here after getting off his bike.

"My mom is at the house with the twins," Derek tells him as soon as he gets close enough, one hand coming up to cup Stiles's cheek. "Is everything okay?"

"It depends on your definition of okay," Stiles says quietly, leaning into the touch.

Derek's lips thin, eyes going from Stiles to the baby and back again.

"You didn't steal him, did you?"

"No," Stiles snaps, cuddling the kid closer to him. "Like I would ever— I mean, really, Derek?"

The look Derek gives him is a soft one, mouth relaxing, and his hand moves from Stiles's face to come around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"Tell me what happened, then."

Stiles huffs, but relaxes against Derek's side and does as he's told.

He notices, at some point during the story, that Derek starts running his fingers through the baby's hair. It makes his stomach flip, because that's what Derek does to Charlie and Tony—and sometimes even Stiles—whenever he thinks they need comforting.

"Now we're just waiting for someone from Child Services to get here," Stiles finishes, thumb tracing the baby's knuckles.

"I don't think you'll have to wait long," Derek says, giving Stiles a sad smile before glancing at the door.

There's a woman standing in the hallway with a folder in hand and talking to his dad, and she's dressed in dark jeans and a teal button down shirt, her sleek black hair falling past her shoulders.

She nods at something the Sheriff says, face a professional mask, before turning to the door and stepping inside the room. And the Sheriff waves a hand at both Derek and Stiles, mouthing I have to go and then walking away.

"Mr. Stilinski?" she asks, looking from Stiles to Derek.

"That's me," Stiles tells her, trying for a smile he's sure falls flat. "And this is my husband, Derek Hale."

"My name is Marin Morrell," she introduces herself, shaking Derek's hand and giving Stiles a nod. "I work with the child welfare department. Chief Finstock called me earlier, and I've spoken with the Sheriff about the infant left at the firestation. I take it this is him?"

Stiles nods, waving the finger the baby still has a firm grip on, making his little arm move. "Yep, this is him."

"What's going to happen to him?" Derek asks quietly, hand still cupping the top of the baby's head.

"We'll assume temporary custody of him," Morrell starts. "Usually we'd have some information about the parent or parents who surrendered him, but that's not the case this time. We'll still be notifying the California Missing Children Clearinghouse to see if anyone comes to claim him."

"And if that doesn't happen?"

"He'll be placed in foster care. Hopefully with a family that'll want to adopt him," Morrell offers them a knowing and sympathetic look. "I'm going to write down the code of his bracelet and make some calls, but I should be back soon to take him."

Stiles and Derek both nod, and then turn to the baby after she leaves.

The baby, who picks that moment to open his eyes, greenish grey going from Stiles and then to the room around them.

Stiles gulps.

And gazes at Derek, knowing his husband recognizes the look in his eyes.

That look that says we could be that family and we could have another child and oh look at that, here's a perfectly healthy baby who was left right outside my workplace today.

"Stiles," Derek says, taking his hand off the baby's head so he can scrub it over his face. "I'm in my forties."

"So what? You're not old. You're still in great shape. I saw you the other day lifting the couch because Tony somehow managed to crawl under it and get stuck. You didn't even complain about your back afterwards."

Derek makes a face at that, and then points a finger at him. "That's another thing. We already have two children under three at home to take care of."

"And we used to babysit Tori, Kyle, and Jamie all the time," Stiles argues. "If we survived Kyle trying to stick Jamie in the fridge and Tori accidentally hacking half her hair off because she wanted to see if the scissors really worked, we can do anything. We can do this."

"Well," Derek falters, because he knows Stiles has a point. "Babies are a lot of work."

"I know that," Stiles says dryly. "I have two at home. With you."

Derek huffs, eyes going to the baby. "I don't know about this."

"You have to admit he's pretty cute," Stiles murmurs, slipping his finger from the kid's grass so he can trace the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe," Derek's lips twitch up.

"And he's a quiet baby," Stiles keeps going. "At least now that he's fed and warm and safe."

"That's good," Derek whispers, face sad.

"He also has your hair," Stiles says, voice weavering. "And your eyes."

"Stiles."

"I mean, I know that's not— I know he's not yours or anything like that. He just looks a lot like you, that's all."

"Stiles," Derek says, getting his fingers on Stiles's chin and tilting his head. "You know it doesn't matter what he looks like."

"You mean because we're keeping him?" Stiles asks, hopeful, and rests their foreheads together.

"You can't just bring home every baby you find. Things don't work like that."

"It's not every baby," Stiles says, pulling back to frown at Derek. "Just this one."

Derek shakes his head at him, but before he can say anything Morrell comes back.

"The doctor gave him the all clear," she says. "I'm all set to take him. Are you ready to say goodbye?"

Stiles feels like someone just reached a hand inside his chest, grabbed his heart, and wrenched it away.

Not that he has any time to tell Morrell that no, he isn't ready.

Or to curl into a protective ball around the kid and refuse to let go.

Or, even, to knock her over and take the baby with him.

Because Derek turns to her, his eyebrows twitching in the way they do when Derek means serious business, and says, "What if we wanted him to stay with us?"

"I can't allow a child to stay with parents who aren't registered as foster parents," Morrell tells them. "No matter how much they want him."

"We're registered!" Stiles jumps in, only to place his lips against the baby's forehead when he makes a hurt sound. "Sorry, sorry. It's alright. Everything's okay."

It took Cora a few months of treatment to get pregnant with the twins. As healthy and fit as she was, they were all aware that pregnancy wasn't always something easy or predictable, and Stiles and Derek didn't want to put all their hopes on having a family on her shoulders.

Laura helped them with the process, since she and Alex had to go through the same thing before they could adopt Zach, from getting them in contact with the social worker in charge of Zach's case and giving them tips on what not to do when someone came to inspect their house.

They were approved, but they shelved the adoption idea after the twins were born and then never found themselves in a situation where they could provide a home for a foster child.

At least not until now.

"I'll need to check your information," Morrell tells them, lips barely forming a smile. "If it turns out everything seems to be in order, I don't see why it would be a problem for him to stay with you until all of this is resolved."

Or until you adopt him, she doesn't say but Stiles hears it anyway.

"Okay, good," Stiles nods, and then turns to Derek. "Here, why don't you hold him."

Derek's eyebrows go up to his hairline, but he doesn't protest when Stiles passes the baby to him, expertly holding him against his chest and rocking him when he starts making little noises of complaint.

"Outside?" Stiles gestures to the door as he gets up, wanting not only to give Derek some time with the baby but also to stretch his legs.

It doesn't take long for Morrell to have their personal information and address, making notes in the folder she has with her and asking Stiles a couple of questions about his and Derek's life and confirming all the information the system had on them. Stiles does his best to answer them, every once in a while looking back at Derek.

Derek's still with the baby, lips shaping words as he speaks softly to him, one of his hands holding on to the kid's small ones.

Stiles's heart skips a beat when Derek ends up with his thumb gripped firmly in the baby's small hand, much like he did before with Stiles. He can practically see Derek melting at that, shoulders relaxing, lips tugging up in a soft and warm smile.

And then Derek looks up, their eyes locking together, his smile widening a little as he gives Stiles a small wave with his fingers.

Stiles smiles back.

Because right then, at that moment, Stiles knows they'll make this work.

Stiles and Derek take the baby home, having to call Boyd to give them a ride back since Stiles came to the hospital with Scott and Derek was with the bike.

Boyd just sighs and gives them an unimpressed stare when he sees them, Derek with an arm around Stiles's shoulder and Stiles with the baby in his arms, but accepts Stiles's one-armed hug after Stiles sees Kyle's old car seat secured in the backseat.

"Here," he says, handing his keys to Derek. "I'll drive the bike back to your house and get my car when you get there."

"Thanks," Derek claps him on the shoulder. "We'll have to stop by the store first, though."

"That's alright. I like spending time with Charlie and Tony more than I like spending time with either of you."

"Hey," Stiles protests. "We're cool."

"You're kids are cooler," Boyd shrugs.

Stiles blinks. "Can't deny that."

Stiles calls Talia after they say their goodbyes and thanks to Boyd and drive off, letting her know what's going on and that Boyd's on his way over and asking her if she's okay with taking care of the twins for a little while longer.

"Of course I am," Talia says, and Stiles would bet she's rolling her eyes at him right now. "We're doing just fine here on our own."

Stiles thanks her and promises they'll be there soon, turning his attention back to the baby who's managed to fall asleep in the car.

"Good to know this is what we should do when you wake us up crying in the middle of the night," Stiles mutters.

"And Charlie and Tony too," Derek points out. "It's a good thing we don't have a dog."

"Do you think we should get one?" Stiles muses, only to have Derek glare at him from the rearview mirror.

It would be chaos, Stiles knows, if they were to get a dog when the twins were still little and the added presence of the baby they were taking home.

Still, it would be fun.

"Maybe when there's no one under the age of five living in our house," Derek says, smirking when Stiles grins.

Derek buys all the necessary things for the baby while Stiles stays in the car, not wanting to move him and run the risk of waking him up. He figures the kid needs as much sleep as he can get, considering how stressful today must have been for him.

They're greeted by Talia when they get home, who gives them both kisses on the cheeks and a knowing smile and runs her hands over the top of the baby's head.

"The kids are in the living room with Boyd," she says, helping Derek with the bags. "They're building a fort."

Stiles and Derek look at each other before rolling their eyes, depositing the stuff they bought on the kitchen table.

"So how are we going to do this?" Stiles asks, looking at the baby still fast asleep in his car seat.

"How about you let me take him," Talia suggests. "Derek and I will head upstairs and Derek will grab Charlie's old crib from the attic and set it up in your room. Then you can talk to the kids and bring them up to meet him."

"You good with that?"

"Yeah," Derek nods. "Sounds good to me."

"Okay then," Stiles says, leaning forward and pecking Derek on the lips. "Let's do this."

Derek and Talia head for the stairs while Stiles goes to the living room, stopping short and snorting when he sees Boyd trying to stop Charlie from pulling at the ceiling of the blanket fort and bring it down at the same time he gets an arm wrapped around Tony's waist when he tries to make a run for one of the bookshelves.

"You alright there?"

Boyd glares at him, grabbing at Charlie and throwing her over her shoulder so he can crawl from under the fort and stand up.

"Your kids are a menace," Boyd tells him, but his lips tip up when Charlie starts laughing and Tony makes grabby hands for Stiles.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles sniffs, taking Tony from him. "You're both adorable, aren't you buddy?"

Tony throws his arms around Stiles's neck, almost hitting him in the chin with his head. "Daddy!"

"That's me," Stiles grins, kissing his head and hugging him back. "Now why don't we save your sister from Uncle Boyd before all the blood rushes to her head?"

Tony pulls back and shakes his head at that, saying loudly, "No!"

"I see we're gonna have to have a conversation about being nice to your siblings."

"Don't let Derek in charge of that," Boyd tells him, passing him Charlie, who keeps laughing as she gets upright. "He and Laura tried to return Cora at a toy store once because they thought she cried too much."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Want me to go upstairs while you talk to them?" Boyd asks, picking up Bunny Yummy and Der Bear from the floor and giving them to the twins.

"Nah," Stiles shakes his head. "Derek and Talia got it. And I'll probably need the moral support."

Boyd nods, sitting down in one of the arm chairs while Stiles settles the twins on the couch, kneeling in front of them.

"Hey guys, can you be quiet for Daddy? There's something I need to talk to you about."

"What?" Charlie tilts her head to the side, eyes on him.

Only for Tony to immediately go, "Shhh. Quiet."

Stiles swallows back a laugh, smiling at his kids, and tries to think of a way to tell his two and a half year olds that there's going to be a new baby in the house with them.

Maybe even their future little brother, if Stiles gets his way.

He doesn't really succeed, and after a couple of minutes Tony and Charlie start to fidget, not paying any more attention and trying to move around the couch.

Boyd comes to Stiles's rescue then, appearing over his shoulder with a photo album from when the kids were only a few months old.

"Visual aids," is all Boyd says.

Stiles thanks him and moves to sit down between Tony and Charlie, gathering them close and opening the album, balancing it on his lap.

The twins seem happy enough to stare at pictures of them when they were babies, listening as Stiles tells them stories about when they were little, pointing fingers at the pictures they like, and asking Stiles if the baby they're pointing at is, "Me?"

Stiles eventually gets to the point of telling them about the new baby, explaining how there's going to be someone who looks just like Charlie and Tony did in the pictures living with them for a while.

"He's not gonna be able to play with you guys because he's still too little," Stiles tells them, pressing his lips together when they frown. "But we can give him kisses and cuddles if we're careful."

The twins seem to perk up at that, and Stiles has to laugh a little at knowing how big fans these two are for some snuggle time with him and Derek.

Stiles doesn't blame them.

He's exactly the same.

"So what do you say?" Stiles asks, hugging the twins close to him. "Do you guys want to meet him?"

Neither Charlie nor Tony say anything, but they do lift their arms up for Stiles to pick them up.

Boyd gives him a small smile when he gets up with the twins, saying, "Nice job."

Stiles nods at him and starts making his way up the stairs, pausing in front of his and Derek's bedroom door and asking Charlie and Tony to knock before sticking his head inside.

"Hey, Papa. Grandma," Stiles says, edging the door open. "We have some visitors here that are curious about the baby."

Derek is sitting on the bed with his mom by his side, leaning against the headboard with the baby by his side, a wall of pillows making sure he stays in place and doesn't roll around the mattress.

Talia excuses herself as Stiles gets close to the bed with the twins, passing Charlie off to Derek before coming to sit by the other side, Tony on his lap.

Tony and Charlie are staring at the baby with wide eyes, both growing still when the kid yawns and opens his eyes, little feet kicking at nothing.

"This is the baby Daddy told you about," Stiles says quietly. "He's going to be staying with us for a while."

The twins don't say anything, just keep staring, and Stiles and Derek share a worried glance.

That is until Charlie leans over the pillows and peers down at the baby's face, placing a hand in the middle of his chest, fingers splayed out, and says, "Mine."

Stiles chokes on his tongue.

And also silently agrees with their daughter's statement.

And then looks up at and almost laughs at the half horrified half totally fucking charmed look on Derek's face.

And then Tony moves, crawling over the mattress until he can drape himself half over Charlie and half over one of the pillows, his hand coming to rest just above Charlie's as he says, "Good."

Stiles stares at the three of them.

And stares.

And stares some more.

And then tries to get his heart to function properly again, feeling so fucking happy and proud of his family he could burst.

Especially when Derek says, "This is gonna last more than a few days, isn't it?"

Stiles lets out a wet laugh, blinking rapidly, before leaning over the kids and kissing Derek right on the mouth.

"Yes, it is."

Derek sighs, long-suffering and fond, and kisses him again before saying, "We're gonna have to name him. I can't keep calling him The Baby in my head."

"We'll figure it out," Stiles promises. "I love you, baby."

Derek rubs their noses together. "I love you too, Bunny."

And yeah, they'll figure it out.