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Karma Chameleon cuts through Stiles’ skull like a vibrating knife. He doesn’t know when the fucking noise started but it’s been repeating non-stop for at least five playthroughs. It takes the beginning of a sixth round, before Stiles realizes that ungodly sound is his phone.
He groans angrily as he paws around his bed to turn off the damn thing, only to find his cellphone is nowhere near his person. He forces his eyes to open and squints into the darkness. The song ends but starts back up immediately, Stiles eventually spies a flickering of light under a pile of clothes on his computer chair, and curses loudly as he stumbles out of bed to retrieve it.
“Fucking. What.” He hisses.
“How hard is it to pick up your fucking phone?” Jackson spits back. “I’ve been calling you on and off since eight last night. Where were you?”
“I was sleeping, you asshole.” Stiles teaters back against his mattress and runs a heavy hand down his face. His brain is muddled and barely functioning but it can still access enough irritation to navigate a phone call with Jackson. “I’ve slept a total of fifteen hours this week studying for finals, so excuse me for not picking up.”
“Forgive me if I don’t give a shit. I’ve spent the last two days trying to salvage a marriage so Ben’s adoption doesn’t fall through. So your little cramfest doesn't even register on my list.”
“Well fuck yo--wait, what about Ben?” Stiles eyes crack open a little wider.
“Apparently, impending fatherhood was too much for Sam, he ran off with his mechanic and left a note for Marcy.” The heat in Jackson’s voice dissipates into a frustrated sigh. “I have no idea how this happened. They’ve been pushing this adoption just as hard as I’ve been. I just...why put so much effort into paying legal fees and everything else if you’re just going to back out in the end? It's not like a condom broke and 'surprise, fatherhood.' He knew this was coming.”
“This was his second couple, wasn't it? God, this kid can’t catch a break.” Stiles grimaces.
“That’s not the worst part.” Jackson laughs bitterly. “I’ve already submitted the preliminary paperwork for a couple, and because Ben’s last adoption fell through on my watch, they’re not giving me any leniency. I can’t resubmit and if the claim falls through because I can’t provide a couple, Ben gets cycled to another agency and I have to wait a year to try to bid for him again.”
“So can’t you...the list. We were on a list, right?” Stiles presses his palm against his eyes. “Fuck, Jax, I’m running on fumes. I can’t... brain right now.”
“You can’t brain regularly either.” Jackson scoffs. “Look, I’m driving back from the airport. That should give you a couple of hours. Meet up at Rita’s?”
“Yeah, fine. Maybe I’ll be able to catch another REM cycle.”
--
The extra hour and a half doesn’t help much, but his brain feels less like mush. It still takes two attempts to dress himself and he bumps into nearly every piece of furniture possible on the way to the front door. But he’s awake and generally capable of most motor functions.
He pulls Derek’s leather jacket off the wall hook by the door and slips his arms into it. The leather smells faintly of Derek’s woodsy aftershave and the weight around his shoulders feels comforting.
“Stiles?” Derek’s voice calls out sleepily from the hall. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, gotta...Jackson.” He mumbles, struggling to form his thoughts into words. “There’s a...thing happening.”
“What thing? Isn’t Jackson still in Chicago?”
Stiles looks up to find Derek leaning heavily against his doorframe. His hair is a mess, eyes are still closed, and one of his pant legs is scrunched up around his knee. He’s enticingly warm and soft looking, all Stiles wants to do is snuggle him back into bed and sleep for ten more hours. The fact that thought doesn’t immediately startle him awake, is another testament of how exhausted he is.
“Everything is fine, Der. I promise.” Stiles assures gently. “Go back to bed. I’ll be back with breakfast.”
--
The inside of the Jeep is a freezer in comparison to the outside chill. Stiles folds himself into a bundle and curses as he waits for his engine to warm. There’s a sharp squeaking within the metal, and the entire frame of the Jeep hiccups and shakes, as he adds a little pressure to the gas to speed up the process. The heater blasts pure ice against his cheeks as it struggles its way to warmth.
He huddles into Derek’s jacket and tries to settle his mind. The ice of the morning has pulled back the haze of sleep, leaving only addled delirium. His brain is jumbling through study guides, Jackson’s phone call, and endless incoherent screaming about the cold.
After a few minutes, the engine sounds a little stronger and the first tendrils of warmth begins to fill the cab. He backs out of the driveway and let’s muscle memory take control.
By the time he gets to Rita’s, he feels a little closer to stable but still very punch drunk. The parking lot is mostly empty, save for a semi-truck and a few scattered cars, it’s not hard to pick out Jackson’s shiny silver Tesla. Stiles resists the childish temptation to box his driver’s side door. In any other circumstance, it would be a delight to watch Jackson scream his face red, but with Ben’s future in the balance, it’s not the best time for a prank. Besides, in his current state he’d probably end up knocking the side mirror off and then Jackson would put his fist through the Jeep’s engine block.
--
The inside of Rita’s is pleasantly warm and smells of hot coffee and buttery pancakes. Stiles flashes a weak smile to the waitress as he passes her by. She gives him an acknowledging nod but doesn’t look up from her sudoku. Jackson’s already claimed the back booth and is pulling out a stack of papers from his travel bag.
Jackson might have just stepped off a plane but his outfit his unwrinkled and looks more put together than whatever Stiles grabbed. He’s pretty sure the shirt under Derek’s jacket is inside out, there’s a mustard stain on his thigh, and he’s definitely missing a sock. Next to Jackson’s slightly fluffy hair and designer sweatpants, Stiles looks twice the slob.
There’s a cup of coffee already waiting for him, doctored up the way Jackson believes is the correct way to drink coffee. Stiles’ finds it lacking, as per usual, the cream to sugar ratio is completely off, but he drinks it anyways. He’s going to need to fuel if they’re going to tackle paperwork.
They polish off the first cup in silence, both needing a moment to collect themselves and jump start their brains. By the time the waitress has come around with a refill and menus, they’re both a little more human. Jackson orders three plates for himself and Stiles puts in his and Derek’s order separately. The woman gives them a strange look as her little notepad fills up but smiles and heads back to the kitchen.
“So, what happens now?” Stiles asks, emptying a few packets of sugar into his cup. “Can’t you just select one of the other couples on the emergency list?”
“I could, if there were anyone else available.”
“What are you talking about. There were six other couples on the list.”
“And now there’s none.” Jackson pushes one of the sheets of paper at him. “The Waltons were implicated in a drug ring. Quinn and Terry got an adoption through another agency, and everyone else opted out.”
Stiles looks over the scratched out list of pre-vetted names. There are twenty-six in total, couples and single status like himself, who volunteered to be on a ‘red list’ for ‘special case’ adoptions. Stiles had signed up two years ago, when he was part of the Big Brother program. He had actually worked with Ben for six months before Jackson’s agency took over his case and transferred him into another foster home.
“You can’t just get another couple can you?”
“Not in the time I have left.” Jackson shakes his head. “I need at least one of the partners pre-vetted in order to proceed. Without the vetting process anyone could just adopt these kids.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan then?”
“You’re the plan.” Jackson pushes over another set of papers. “I can get your partner priority vetting and the paperwork can proceed without my bid lapsing.”
“That’s all well and good , Jackie but I don’t have a partner. Hell, I haven’t been on a date in a year.”
“What. Why not?” Jackson sounds mildly offended, which Stiles isn’t sure how to take. “You’re...reasonably attractive.”
“Gee, thanks.” Stiles deadpans. “I’ve been focusing on finishing my degree. I had to take a semester off after we cleansed the Nemeton, remember? I’ve been at max capacity with my units since then.”
“And you can’t multi-task? This isn’t about--”
“No, Jax. I’ve just been busy.” Stiles glares.
Jackson rolls his eyes. “Fine, what about Danny?”
“What about Danny.” Stiles repeats lowly. “Just because we’re friends and share an interest in dick, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to settle down and raise a kid with me. Also, I might not understand the dark arts of specialized adoption, but I doubt they’ll approve two full-time students. You think I’m loopy and crazy during finals week? Danny’s in medical school!”
Jackson scrubs a hand over his face and curses. “Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? What about Scott? You two were practically conjoined twins growing up.”
“Yeah and you and I hated each other, things change.” Stiles mutters. “Even if Scott wasn’t engaged and didn't have his own pack to worry about, we’d make terrible co-parents. Our ideals have shifted too far apart.”
“What about--”
“If you’re going to mention a particular strawberry blonde mathematician, I suggest you bite your tongue now. Lydia has never been interested in children and we don’t work well together in a domestic setting.”
“Well, what other responsible adults do we know that has the patience to deal with a child and a man child like you?” Jackson huffs in frustration.
Stiles is about to make a snarky comeback when their waitress returns with Jackson’s plates and Stiles’ to-go bags. Stiles gathers the forms in front of him and helps make space for the food when he looks down at the pre filled marriage license and the scratched out list.
Jackson might be an insufferably smug asshole, but he’s amazing at his job. Adoption advocacy pays pennies in comparison to his regular corporate law gig, but Jackson pours his heart and soul into finding these kids a good home. Even though Stiles is the last name on the list, Jackson wouldn’t put all his eggs into the Stilinski basket if he thought Stiles couldn’t handle it. Which was ridiculous and kind of flattering.
While he had some experience with children and werewolves, full-time parenting was another beast. If something went wrong, Stiles would be fully responsible. He barely kept himself alive during hell week, how was he supposed to do that for him plus a small child? More importantly, where the hell was he supposed to put Ben? It wasn’t like he could just...
“Shit.” Stiles crumples the papers.
“What?” Jackson stops cutting his stack of pancakes. “Did you think of someone?”
“Yeah. I just…” Stiles sighs. “I’ll check in with you in a few hours...if I’m still alive.”
>>
Derek wakes up half sprawled out across his bed. He feels overly groggy and the house is strangely quiet, though he could have sworn Stiles finished finals and was already home. Derek pushes himself off the bed and shuffles out into the hall, stopping at Stiles’ room.
The bed is a mess, as it always is, but the sheets are freshly saturated with his scent. His school bag is haphazardly clinging to the back of the computer chair and a familiar hoodie is bunched up near the door. The wolf whines in confusion at the empty room. Derek can’t help but wonder if his conversation with Stiles was real or not.
Ever since the ‘gas station sushi incident’, Stiles has been a constant in Derek’s home and life. It’s only been two weeks since he left to go into Extreme Study Mode, but it feels longer. The house has been disturbingly empty without Stiles’ frenetic heartbeat, rambling commentary, and off-key shower singing. Their nightly schedule of cooking and Netflix is less-than-appealing without a partner, even though Derek has his own queue of TV shows and documentaries. Instead, Derek has spent most evenings exercising or flipping through infomercials until exhaustion finally takes him.
He knows this sort of behavior is freakishly codependent for roommates, but Derek can’t help himself. Somewhere along the way of reopening lines of communication and actually becoming friends, Derek began to want more. Time away from Beacon Hills looks good on both of them. They’re still a little broken but their edges aren’t as sharp.
Derek taps the doorframe idly as he steps back from Stiles' room. Normally, after hell week, Stiles slept for a full day and then emerged to consume the entirety of the fridge. Whatever called him away from hibernation, must have been important. Derek can vaguely recall their conversation. Perhaps, a nice cup of tea would help the process. He pads into the kitchen, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders, and begins filling the kettle.
The Jeep’s sputtering engine pulls into the driveway. Derek abruptly turns off the water and listens for the familiar sound of jangling keys. Stiles shuffles and hisses as he fights to cram the right key into the door. After three attempts he finally tumbles inside. Derek turns the water back on and tries to steady his shaking hands.
“I’m surprised you’re awake.” He says casually, as he sets the kettle on the stove. “Normally, you sleep like the--”
The words instantly dry up on his tongue as he turns to face his roommate. Stiles looks like hell. The puffiness of sleep deprivation and the slimness around his cheekbones only add to the stern line of his lips.
“What’s wrong?”
Stiles’ jaw clenches as he sets the bags from Rita’s on the counter. “I need you to marry me.”
“What?” Derek wheezes.
“I want to adopt a child, so I need you to marry me.” He shoves one of the bags over and places a stack of folded up forms in its place.
Stiles continues to talk, his mouth moving rapidly, but Derek can’t hear anything over the thudding roar of his own heartbeat. He paws dumbly at the papers and finds a marriage license and adoption forms, Stiles’ side on is already filled out. Derek’s mouth fills with cotton and his hands are wet with sweat.
This isn’t a joke. It’s not some sleep deprived plan, like the time he stayed up writing a term paper and then tried to convince Derek to start an alpaca farm, because: ‘Alpacas are the future, Derek!’
Stiles is still talking, his hands gesturing wildly, accenting his impassioned arguments. The crests of his cheeks are hot with embarrassment, but his eyes are determined and pleading. Derek looks down at the papers again only to have a phone thrust in his face. There’s a picture of Stiles and a little boy. The picture was taken before they were living together, back when Stiles’ hair was cropped shorter and he was dating ‘The Asshole Formally Known as Jake’. The boy looks small for his age. He has dark hair, olive skin, and large, sad eyes.
This is real. Stiles wants to raise a kid with him, this kid.
How is this even a possibility? They haven’t even broached the subject of dating! Derek doesn’t even know if Stiles sees him like that or if all the hugging and touching is a deepening of their ‘broship’. They can’t just jump straight into long term commitment! It’s insane, it’s...
“Derek?” There’s a hitch in Stiles’ breath.
Derek looks up from the pictures and finds Stiles’ watching him with a terrifying rawness. His heart is hammering faster than normal and his scent is dripping with anxiety.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Fuck, sensibility.
--
Hammering out the paperwork isn’t so difficult once Jackson and Stiles stop yelling at each other. Derek tries to busy himself by reading over the fine print of the packet Jackson shoved at him. However it’s hard to miss things like: ‘You gave me shit for Danny but this is your solution?’ and ‘I’m not sure what you expected me to do, Jax’. Derek tries to ignore the lurching twist in his stomach. He knows this marriage is just a means to an end but he wished it wasn’t such a farfetch possibility for Stiles.
After all the styrofoam containers are emptied, Stiles trudges off to the bathroom for a quick shower.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Jackson murmurs gathering up their trash from the counter. “I mean, yeah you’d be helping a little boy get a good home, but I could probably find someone else to--”
“He doesn’t want Danny.” Derek interrupts sternly.
“No, he doesn’t. That’s the problem.” Jackson stills and watches him for a moment before continuing softer. “This is already a bizarre arrangement without emotions involved, imagine how messy it would be if there were.”
Derek doesn’t respond. Jackson flutters his eyes shut and sighs.
“I guess the insanity is on both sides of this then. Well, I tried.” He shrugs slipping the papers into his bag. “I will say this: whatever...agreement, or willful ignorance going on between the both of you, has to stop. Not just for the collective sanity of people, like myself, who have to deal with the both you, but for Ben. Children pick up on things like this and after everything that little boy has been through, Ben deserves a happy and stable home. So, do yourself a favor and talk this out.”
>>>
The tailor’s shop is a plain looking storefront at the far end of the mall, nestled in between a dusty carousel and a Nordstrom’s rack that had seen better days. The reviews online gave it a solid five star rating that Jackson couldn’t begrudge, no matter how dour the outside looked.
Inside, wasn’t much better. White plastic lattices formed walls near the entryway, displaying formal attire available for sale or rent. The garments were outdated and dusty, probably a relic of when the store first opened. Towards the back of the shop, two seamstresses are working on a tiered wedding gown, fastidiously sewing beads into the flowing skirts. A few customers idly pick through the racks, while another is chatting with the tailor about a very coral dress.
“I still don’t understand why we’re here. I don’t need a suit, it’s just the courthouse.” Stiles fidgets with the garment bag.
“You’re getting married, Stilinski. So long as I’m around, you’re not going to do it in a pair of ratty khakis and a graphic tee you bought in high school.”
“ Hey! I bought this last year, it only looks vintage.” He tugs at the hem of his shirt.
“That’s even worse.” Jackson sighs.
“Why again is Derek exempt from the Whittemore make-over?” Stiles asks petulantly.
“Because Derek dresses like an actual grown up.”
He snorts. “You haven’t seen his teddy bear pajamas.”
Jackson fixes Stiles with a death glare before making eye contact with a young woman near the register. She sets aside her history book and flashes him a polite smile as she starts towards them.
“If I have to wear a suit, why does it have to be one of your pretentious cast offs? Wouldn’t it be more sensible for me to rent something? I doubt I’ll ever have reason for a monkey suit again after this.”
“You seem to be forgetting that your soon-to-be husband, rubs elbows with a lot of investors. His company will have a lot of events that will require something more classy than jeans and a hoodie.”
“I didn’t…” Stiles’ belligerent attitude is replaced by a pale realization. “Oh God, I’m going to have to go to those things aren’t I?”
“He’s about to be a family man, it’s not something you can really hide in the corporate world. What if Ben needs to go to the doctors or has an issue at school? He can’t just excuse himself without a reason.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Well, maybe you would have if you two actually talked about the details.”
“Would you get off my case already? I haven’t really had a moment to draft up a full agreement, alright? You’re the one constantly reminding me ‘time is of the essence, Stiles’.” He hisses.
Jackson rolls his eyes in response and decides to let the conversation drop. They’ve reached beyond the point of sensibility. It’s ridiculous that Stiles can ask for a life-long commitment but can’t manage a date, but there’s no sense bickering now.
Jackson was a fool for even asking about Stiles’ dating life. Why would he need to find someone when he was already in a serious relationship. Derek was just as bad for letting this go on so long. From the moment Derek offered up his spare guest room, they became inseparable. They cooked together, spent most of their weekends together unless school or work interfered. They even hosted a ‘friendsgiving’ at the condo, which only highlighted their disgusting cutesy cohabitation.
He had always assumed they had discussed the possibility of a real relationship and decided they were fine as is. But no, they were just emotionally stunted morons, content to circle one another forever.
Whatever, they’d have plenty of time to navigate their clusterfuck of a courtship after they were married.
“Good morning, I’m Connie. Are you here for a fitting or did you need alternations?” She eyes the heavy garment bag.
“A little bit of both.” Jackson claps a rough hand on Stiles’ back, he’s still a little shell shocked.
“Alright. Follow me back and we can get started. You came at a good time, if the work isn’t too drastic, we should be able to have something for you tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow? But I’m getting married today !” Stiles gives him a panicked look.
“What?” Connie’s eyes widen. “We don’t usually do same day alterations for formal wear...”
“Oh my God, I really am going to get married in these stupid khaki’s and a t-shirt!” Stiles grips a handful of his own hair. “I’m going to look like an idiot standing up there next to him.”
“Why don’t you start looking through your options and I’ll talk to Connie for a second.” Jackson pushes Stiles into the shoddy dressing room.
“Jax, there’s not going to be enough time! We should try to rent something.”
“They don’t sell anything that would fit your frame. Your shoulders are wide but you’re lean muscle. You’d look worse than you did at homecoming.”
“That was my Dad’s suit!” Stiles suddenly clamps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God, my Dad! Jax, what am I going to tell my Dad?”
Jackson eases him onto the makeshift bench and squeezes his shoulder. “Stiles, you’re going to be alright. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
“Is everything alright?”
An older woman sharing a resemblance to Connie, is standing in the doorway. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun and her smile is sharp and professional. Stiles is still going through stages of realization, obviously stuck on the fact his father has no idea his son is about to get married. Jackson gestures to the group to move out of the dressing room, and gives Stiles a reassuring pat.
The owner, who’s name tag just says: Mrs. Kim, doesn’t looked pleased about the disturbance or the worried look on her daughter’s face. Jackson lets out a slow breath and turns on the charm.
“Sorry about that.” He apologizes, giving them a sheepish look. “We’re having a bit of an emergency. The tailor ruined his original suit and we just found out this morning. It looks like it could fit a ring bearer and we’ve been driving around all morning to find a place that could help us.”
“Oh no!” Connie covers her mouth and glances sympathetically at Stiles hunched form.
Mrs. Kim looks downright livid. “Was it Larry up on Fourteenth? I bet it was Larry, that no good hack always rushes and mixes up measurements.”
“He was apparently highly recommended.” Jackson feigns disgust.
“By someone with no sense, no doubt! Everyone gets taken in by that fancy storefront and the gimmicks, but his work is bargain basement!” She fixes him with a slightly approving look. “You did good by bringing him here. We don’t normally do rush jobs, but we’ll make an exception. I’d hate for your friend to have his day ruined by Larry’s inferior skills. Connie, go help the poor boy.”
The girl gently coaxes the garment bag out of Stiles hands and hangs it up to start looking through their options. His face is a little pink and his eyes are red and watery. Jackson feels his stomach clench at the sight. He’s been berating Stiles about being unaware of the facets of this decision when in reality, it hasn’t sunk in for either of them.
Despite the emotional constipation, Stiles is jumping into this mess because Jackson pulled his ass out of bed and showed him a list. He’s getting married at a courthouse in a hand-me-down suit. No boisterous celebration with family and friends, no overly sweetened cake or poppy dance music. Just three people and a lot of paperwork. It’s barely a step up from a Vegas drive-thru wedding. All because the other couple couldn’t keep their marriage together.
Jackson bites the inside of his cheek. This might not be the wedding either Stiles or Derek imagined, but he is going to make damn sure it’s still special. It doesn’t matter if the rings are from a shitty mall jeweler and Stiles’ suit is out-of-season, they’re going to have something to look back on.
“Can you work with any of those suits?” Jackson asks the tailor.
“Sweetheart. I can make a prom gown out of a tablecloth, given enough time.” Mrs. Kim scoffs. “Your boy is going to be fine. Whatever he picks out, we’ll make sure he looks amazing in it.”
“Whatever he needs, I’ll pay double for it.” He promises. “His day should be special.”
“Don’t worry, it will be.” She pats his shoulder gently.
>
The fitting process is a bit of a whirlwind. Under the combined attention of Jackson, Connie, and her mother, Stiles is pinched, stuffed, and prodded into a number of different items, until the collective finally decides on a blue suit. According to Jackson, it’s a Tom Ford from a few seasons ago. Stiles has no idea what that means, but it looks nice enough. After being stabbed with pins for fidgeting, Connie and her mother hunker near the counter and begin cutting the excess fabric.
Jackson pushes him onto a stained ottoman, before leaving to hunt through the mall for last minute wedding things. He seems subdued and irritated, but Stiles doesn’t linger long on it. It’s been a rough morning for all of them. In fact, it’s the first time since breakfast, that Stiles has a moment to unpack the entirety of his situation.
He’s never put much thought into marriage. At least, not beyond whatever childhood fantasies he imagined when the world was small and comprised of Lydia.
He has no idea about color swatches or table settings or suits . Details like that didn’t really matter in the event he ever found anyone to marry. His only expectation was that his father would be present, stuffed into some horrible suit, looking warm and uncomfortable. The old man would blame allergies for the redness in his eyes and complain when he got caught going for an extra piece of cake. No doubt after a few turns on the dance floor and some champagne he’d start telling embarrassing stories...
Instead, Stiles is in a dusty shop about to make two major life commitments and his Dad is in Beacon Hills having his second cup of coffee, completely unaware.
“Hey, hey. None of that.” Mrs. Kim chides from her corner. “Crying is bad for business.”
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed…” Stiles blinks in surprise at the moisture out of his eyes and dries the bottom of his chin.
“It’s fine. You’re hardly the worst. One of our brides had a meltdown because her sister forgot to bring something old and blue.” Connie adds, slowly feeding his pants through her sewing machine. “We also had a brawl between a bride’s mother and her soon-to-be-in-laws, that was my favorite.”
“Those three knocked down a display and broke a mannequin in half. Can you believe, they had the nerve to come back for alterations for their grandson’s baptism!” Mrs. Kim makes a tsk-ing sound and shakes her head.
“It’s nice to know I’m now part of your hall of shame.” Stiles chuckles.
“You’ll have to try harder to make it on that list.” Connie laughs. “A ring bearer once pooped behind a rack of prom dresses.”
“I have no idea what they were feeding that kid. It was so pungent and watery. We couldn’t get the smell out for days. Had to dry clean the whole rack.” Mrs. Kim says, her face sour with distaste.
Stiles doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. Connie ducks her head proudly at the achievement and her mother shares a knowing look.
“The point is: everyone goes through a moment like this. Weddings make everyone crazy and people forget what brought them together in the first place.” Mrs. Kim says calmly as she glances up from her needle work. “The important thing is: do you love him?”
“Yes.” The answer is instinctual, like blinking, yet acknowledging it out loud sends a small shock through him. “He’s makes it difficult sometimes but...I love him.”
“Good! Remember that, it’ll keep you going through the rough patches.” She nods and turns back to her work. “Marriage isn’t always light and easy like they show in the movies. It’s hard. You’ll fight, you’ll say things you don’t mean. Marriage is a gauntlet and in order to survive, you need to work together. Sometimes that’s means being wrong or letting go, but so long as you remember you’re a team, you’ll be fine.”
Stiles snorts, him and Derek know a thing or two about fighting. “It sounds like you know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Kim.”
“You learn a thing or two over twenty years.” She says proudly. “We’re not perfect, but I’d like to think we’re happy. Now, stop worrying so much. Come be useful, read those flash cards to Connie.”
>>
The courthouse is only thirty minutes away from the condo. It’s a little after one, but the parking lot is near max capacity. It takes a couple turns of tense circling before Derek gives up and wedges his car in between a crooked Mercedes and a boxy Toyota Cressida.
Unlike most of the other government buildings, the courthouse isn’t an ugly brick, badly aging from the late 70s. There’s plenty of stone detailing, high windows, and columns; smooth, unknown faces peek out between clusters of grape leaves and vines. It’s no surprise that three different wedding parties are vying for the best position on the steps of the entrance.
Derek hangs back, watching the photographers awkwardly maneuver. One of the wedding parties has twenty-three people and a bride with a dress just as long. He wonders why the heck didn’t these people just get married at a larger, more private venue, but considering his own situation he doesn’t have much room to judge.
When he was ten years old, Derek was the ring bearer for his cousin’s wedding. He hated the suit but understood that his job was an important one as it was insisted by multiple aunties and uncles. Hale gatherings were always massive, loud, and stretched into the early hours. He can’t remember all the details of that night, only that his mother let him have two slices of cake, and his great uncle snuck him a few sips of champagne. The rest is a blur of music and dancing.
There were plenty of other weddings after that, but none that he participated in. Derek always thought his own wedding would be similar: chaotic but intimate. Generations of Hales would come from all over and cram together for an evening of revelry. There would be an endless amount of food, drink, and dancing. After rambling speeches, wet kisses, and scenting, he and his mate would slip away to complete their ceremony and sleep together under one name.
His heart stutters at the sudden ache of longing, this was just another in a long line of moments he would celebrate alone. He ignores the sting in his gut, and forces himself to look away as the families rearrange themselves on the steps.
It hurts to be on the precipice of this moment without his pack, but it’s not all terrible. Derek hadn’t really expected to live past twenty-two, and if by some cosmetic joke he did, his life would be nothing but guilt, anger, and blood. Yet, his days are rarely colored by any of those things. In fact, even the bad days are bearable because he has someone to keep him steady and grounded.
Which is why, Jackson is right.
This limbo between him and Stiles needs to end. No matter if Stiles decides they’re better off co-parenting platonically or as an actual couple, they can’t function with this uncertainty lingering in the background.
The phone in Derek’s pocket vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts and grounding him once again.
‘The fitting went great! Mrs. Kim wants pics. Jax is ignoring my directions. ETA 15 minutes.’
Derek can practically hear Stiles berating Jackson about the downfalls of attempting the freeway during this time of day.
‘Good, your alternate route is terrible.’ Derek thumbs back quickly.
Stiles shoots back a series of rapid fire texts.
‘Um, EXCUSE YOU.’
‘RUDE.’
‘You have no room to criticize my routes, Mr. Got lost going to the other Ralphs.’
‘Mr. Late to dinner because of the hwy congestion.’
‘Mr. I don’t update my maps app’
‘And really, you’re taking JACKSON’S side?’
‘You’re supposed to take my side, asshole!’
‘I can’t believe you right now. I feel so betrayed.’
‘BETRAYED. DEREK.’
Derek ducks his head and grins as he responds: ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. Yes, dear.’
There’s an immediate onslaught of text messages ranging from ‘DID YOU JUST YES DEAR ME?!’ to garbled autocorrected paragraphs. Slowly, the twinge in his chest fades. Regardless of the outcome today, Derek knows he won’t regret his choice to marry this idiot.
>
Stiles loses track of time after Derek’s sarcastic attempts to mollify him. By the time Jackson orders him out of the car, Stiles is halfway through a rant about the ‘pizza incident’. He decides to cut the message short and instead types back: ‘We’ll talk about this later.’ Only to receive another: ‘Yes, dear.’
“Having a moment with your future hubby?” Jackson teases as they head towards the front of the building.
The title sends a fresh wave of nerves rolling in his stomach, but he plays it off. “Don’t be jealous. I know I look good in this suit but it would never work between us, Jax.”
“I would rather choke on my own vomit.” He says smoothly. “Besides my current career path would be inhospitable for caring for two children.”
“You think you’re being mean, but all I heard was that you want to take care of me.” Stiles flutters his lashes and Jackson shoves him forward.
They walk in silence for a few beats, dodging a couple of cars fighting for a recently vacated spot. When Jackson slows their pace down to a slow stroll.
“Hey, I know...this isn’t ideal. I’m not sorry for dragging you into this, but I am sorry.” Jackson looks like he’s trying to pass a kidney stone.
Stiles chuckles at the sight and contemplates easing the situation into a joke, what comes out instead is: “You really think I can do this? I mean, I know I put my name down and if you didn’t have your papers locked in, I’d probably be shouldering this on my own but I didn’t really...think about the details. I just...wanted to help. Ben...He should have nice things.”
Jackson brings them to a full stop and places a firm hand over his shoulder. “You research everything you do, and your heart is in the right place, even if your head isn’t. don’t think Ben could have asked for a better dad.”
“Jax…” Stiles shifts under the intensity of Jackson’s praise.
He and Jackson don’t normally exchange pleasantries. Their friendship was born out of necessity in a vampire nest, it’s not something soft and sweet. They can’t get through a conversation without creative insults or childish name calling. So, the soft attitude at the tailor and these compliments only heighten Stiles’ nerves.
“You’re still a fucking moron.” Jackson huffs, seeming to pick up on Stiles’ renewed dread. “You could have asked a certain someone out years ago, but you’re incapable of talking about your feelings. Nevertheless, I think you’ll be a great dad...just let someone else give Ben relationship advice.”
“Aaaaand my world is realigned, once more.” Stiles feigns relief. “Thanks, jackass.”
“No problem, dipshit. Now, c’mon we still have to take pictures before we head inside.”
“You’re the one who wanted to have a moment.” Stiles mumbles. “It’s okay, Jax. You can be my side piece.”
--
The inside of the waiting room is cool and glossy. There’s an old clock dragging it’s arms heavily somewhere behind them, ticking above the murmuring of couples and their families. Jackson has commandeered an entire row of chairs for himself, which he paces while he texts his assistant. Every so often, he’ll drop into one of the empty seats and make sure every ‘t’ is crossed and ‘i’ dotted on their documents.
A little girl four rows ahead of them, keeps trying to play peek-a-boo with Derek; every so often he indulges her and gets a burst of giggles for his efforts. It’s ridiculously adorable and makes Stiles’ stomach swoop.
Derek seems different. It’s not the hair gel, charcoal suit or the endearing gooey faces. There’s not an ounce of tension in his shoulders and even his doom eyebrows seem less imposing. It’s almost as if both man and wolf are completely at ease. The only other time Stiles has seen Derek like this is when they’re sacked out on the couch, five episodes into a marathon.
“You okay?” He asks, calling Stiles out for staring a bit too long.
“Yeah, it’s just--”
Across from them, Jackson nearly drops his phone as it suddenly lights up mid-text. His countenance shifts from business mode into irritation.
“Jax?” Stiles blinks up as Jackson aggressively shuffles their documents back into its folder.
“We’re good. I just have to take this. I’ll try to make it quick.” Jackson says tightly as he retreats into the hall.
They both wait a moment after the door shuts before Derek tilts his head. “Someone named Marcy?”
Stiles grimaces, no wonder Jackson is upset. “Her and her husband were the original applicants for Ben.”
“Not a pleasant call then.” Derek acknowledges somewhat nervously. “Do you think they’ve changed their minds?”
“Unlikely. Dude ran off with his mechanic, even if Marcy wanted to adopt Ben on her own, Jackson already submitted the preliminary papers for a couple.” Stiles forces a little humor into his tone.
Truthfully, it’s not that farfetched. Sam could have gone crawling back to Marcy. If weddings made people crazy, adopting children was probably right up there. But if that was the case, where would that put him and Derek?
Stiles’ gut sours at the thought. He’s barely had a full day to settle into this future, yet he’s already become attached to the idea of starting a life with Derek. If Sam and Marcy wanted to continue on with their adoption plans, he and Derek wouldn’t need to carry on with this wedding. He glances around for the clock and finds there’s only five more minutes until their appointment. Five minutes and their lives change either way. Would they have to get an annulment? In terms of marriages does ten minutes even count? He never expected to be a divorcee before he was a graduate.
Derek places a hand over Stiles’ knee and grounds him with a soft look. His face is a little pale and the inside of his palm is hot and damp, he’s nervous too.
“It’s fine. She’s calling to apologize and to see if Jackson has any recommendations for a divorce lawyer.” Derek assures him.
The stone knot of anxiety unclenches slightly, allowing a slow breath of relief to pass between them. Stiles scrubs a hand over his face and tries to steady himself from the emotional whiplash he wound himself into. As if he wasn’t already exhausted from finals, this entire day is draining whatever reserves he has left. Derek’s hand remains firm atop Stiles’ knee, his thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Stiles says quietly.
“Yeah, I know.” Derek glances away, lips pulling into a bittersweet smile. His thumb stop moving but his hand grips Stiles’ knee a little tighter. “But I want to...and not just for Ben.”
“What?” Stiles’ eyes go wide and his mouth dries. Derek’s jaw clenches and a slow blush begins to crawl up his neck into his cheeks.
“The truth is ever since you moved in, I hoped we’d end up here someday.” He huffs, glaring at their shoes. “I figured maybe I’d get bold enough to do something about it. I hated thinking that someday you’d come home smelling like someone else and I would have missed my chance, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had. It took a long time to get here and I didn’t want to give that up on the off chance you might feel the same.” He sheepishly lifts his gaze to meet Stiles’ eyes. “I’m not saying this is ideal. This isn’t how I imagined anything between us going, but I’d like to try.”
The sincerity of Derek’s words snaps something in his body and suddenly, Stiles can’t breathe. His lungs are burning and his brain is firing off half formed thoughts that spark but can’t connect. The entire universe has emptied and inverted itself. There’s a high pitched screaming in the back of his mind and his entire body is numb. Nothing makes sense anymore. Up is down, left is right. Derek wants to be with him romantically...husbandly.
“We can figure something else out if you don’t--” Derek stammers awkwardly, heat burns brightly into the crests of his ears as he withdraws his palm from Stiles’ knee.
“No!” Stiles latches onto Derek’s hand. “I want to fight with you.”
“What?”
“I want to…” Stiles lets out a short laugh. “I want to do this with you. All of it. Sappy anniversaries, disgusting kisses in public, matching Halloween costumes, the whole nine. I never thought-you’ve always been it for me.” Stiles winces at the admission. “Even when you were gone I never stopped thinking about you. I used to think it was just a thing , you know? Just a teenage crush that would eventually go away if I filled the space long enough. Which is part of the reason why things went so badly with you know who .”
“Jake was a fratboy, not Voldemort.” Derek chuckles breathlessly.
“You don’t know that! He could have been a horcrux, at least.” Stiles insists, threading their fingers together. “So, yeah. I want this too.”
“We did this spectacularly backwards, didn’t we?” Derek squeezes their hands.
“Probably.” Stiles grins. “But I think it suits us.”
1 Month Later
Ben is a little taller than expected. Then again, the only pictures Derek has seen of him are two years old. Ben is recently seven, his face is a little fuller but he’s still underweight for his age. The boy has taken over a coffee table in one of the barely furnished offices. Markers, crayons, and colored pencils are dumped across the table along with multiple sheets of computer paper. Despite the mess, his line work is meticulous even for a seven year old’s motor skills. There’s no rush in coloring and there’s even variation between hard and light pressure.
Jackson and Stiles are still murmuring disgruntledly in the front lobby. Derek picks up on a few keywords that only confirm his suspicions about the state of the boy’s care. Jackson lets out a short growl, causing Ben to snap his head up from his drawing. There’s a small spike of fear in scent when he catches Derek in the doorway instead of a familiar face, for a brief moment the boy’s eyes flash gold before he quickly re-directs them to the floor.
“Hello.” Ben says quietly.
“Hello.” Derek returns the greeting. “That’s a very nice drawing.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve done a great job with the trees. I like that you added some blue into the green.”
“Things look better when they have more than one color.” Ben relaxes a little, allowing a small smile. “Uncle Jackie took me to an art museum yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, settling in to the opposite side of the table. “Did you like it?”
“Mmhm!” He nods, suddenly distracted at the memory. “There was this painting made out DOTS, but you can’t tell unless you get really close. I tried to do one like that but it takes forever. I wanted to try blending the colors, like in those water lily pictures, but Uncle Jackie says I gotta work up to paints.”
“Well, it looks like you’re almost there.”
“I’ve been practicing!” Ben brightens a little and hands him a blank sheet of paper. “Here, you can draw too while you wait. I’m Ben.”
“Derek.” He says, taking the paper.
His hands feel foreign as they try to remember how to create lines. It’s been years since he’s tried to sketch anything. In fact, his last art attempt was probably somewhere around freshman year, when he decided he wanted to be a comic book artist. Those dreams were quickly replaced once he realized basketball was a better way to get dates than a ratty sketchbook.
It doesn’t take long for Ben to warm himself. He’s quick to pepper Derek with random facts and stories. This stream of conscious conversation reminds him a lot of Stiles, it’s no wonder the two of them had got along so well before. The boy is in the middle of retelling the time he stole the neighbor’s cat when Jackson enters the room.
“I see you’re making friends.” Jackson startles both of them.
“Yeah.” Ben shyly ducks his head down and then whispers loudly. “Derek’s like us, Uncle Jackie.”
“That he is.” Jackson’s face softens with affection. “Do you remember our conversation last night?”
A nervous frown appears. “You said I’m going to meet a new family today.”
“And?”
“That I don’t have to go with them, unless I want to.”
“That’s right.” Jackson nods.
“Is that why Derek’s here today?” Ben fiddles with the blue pencil in his hands and glances over at Derek. “Are you going to be my new family?”
“Hopefully.” Derek says, setting his own pencil down.
Aside from exploring the new facets of their relationship, he and Stiles have spent the last month jumping through hoops preparing for Ben’s arrival. Stiles’ parenting research absorbed the living room and Derek’s background check, triggered something at work, landing him in a two hour lecture with his supervisor. Mostly, Luce was pissed that he had eloped without telling her. ‘I didn’t even know you were dating, Derek! I would have never tried to set you up with Phil in accounting if I had known, you jackass.’
With all that commotion, it had never occurred that Ben might not want to come home with them. After all, it had been two years since he last saw Stiles. It was possible the kid might remember his former ‘big brother’ and Derek was a stranger.
“But where’s your--” Ben’s nose twitches for a second as he scents the air curiously. His face flashes from confusion to excitement. “Stiles?”
The boy abandons his drawing, nearly slamming his knees into the table in his rush to get up. Stiles laughs brightly as he catches the boy and lifts him, effortlessly swinging Ben onto his hip. The stale smell of new carpet, paint, and sadness is quickly overpowered by the scent of summer and excited heartbeats. Ben clings to Stiles, nestling his face into the man’s collarbones, while he murmurs indistinctly and rubs his palm against the boy’s back. Derek’s heart aches at the sight.
“I was worried you forgot about me.” Stiles says quietly, jostling the boy slightly.
Ben shakes his head. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Didn’t you know? Stiles’ are hard to get rid of just ask your Uncle Jackie.” Stiles winks over the boy’s head.
“He’s right, I’ve been trying to get rid of him since I was your age.” Jackson smirks. “So, what do you think Ben?”
Ben eventually uncurls from Stiles neck and looks back at Derek. “Are you really here to adopt me?”
“If you’d like.” Derek pulls himself off the floor. “Stiles has told me a lot about you and...we’d really like to bring you home with us.”
The boy clenches a hand into Stiles’ shirt but doesn’t drop his eyes from Derek. “But...are you sure? Mr. Walters said I’m too much trouble that’s why I got sent back...”
“We won’t send you back. We’ll never send you back.” The wolf bristles with protective anger.
“But…”
“I gotta level with you, kid.” Stiles calls the boy’s attention back. “Me and Derek aren’t the ideal couple. We have no idea what we’re doing and we’re probably gonna fuck this up royally, but we’re stubborn bastards and we’ve survived tougher shits than you.” He grins. “You won’t have a perfect family with us. We’re gonna butt heads and drive each other nuts but we’ll always love you and never leave you.”
The last of Ben’s anxiety melts away. Derek already knows Stiles’ relaxed language is going to be a problem with other parents, but he can’t find it in him to care. Not when his family is so content. Ben stretches an arm towards Derek and he’s quickly strangled into a hug. Derek lazily scents both of them, making his wolf preen at the combined scent of mate and cub. His husband chuckles at the display. For a moment the world narrows down to the warmth of his husband and the smiling wet face of his child. His chest expands with a relaxed warmth he hasn’t felt since before the fire.
“Let’s go home.”