(+15 years) Adopting their second child; a little boy who they name Oliver Joseph. Stiles vetoes having his first name being used as Oliver's middle name on the basis that it's a stupid, stupid name and he doesn't want to saddle his child with it.
"Want to meet your brother?" Derek asked softly, stroking Remy's dark hair away from her face.
"No. Don't want a brother." Remy shook her head, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and hiding her face. "I'm the baby."
"He wants to meet you." Derek continued, sitting down on the bed and repositioning Remy so she was sitting on his lap. "He's downstairs with daddy right now."
"No."
Derek sighed quietly, pulling his phone from his pocket and texting Stiles, telling him Remy didn't want to come down yet and to yell if he needed him. They'd worked with the same organisation that found Natalie for them, but thankfully, Stiles hadn't become immediately attached to Paula, Oliver's birth mother, like he had with Natalie and leaving the hospital and bringing their son home had been far less upsetting than when they'd adopted Remy. Paula had gone into labour two weeks earlier than expected and they'd had to drive down to San Francisco at the last minute, leaving Remy with Scott and Allison.
They'd had a night at home when they got back, just the two of them and Oliver. at Allison's insistence: Derek had wanted to go straight to Scott and Allison's on the way back from San Francisco to pick Remy up, feeling uneasy at having his daughter away from him for longer than was necessary. As much as he hated to admit it, Allison had been right, as Oliver had been impossible to settle that first night, and not having to worry about Remy being upset as well had made things slightly easier.
Allison had also suggested that they not force Remy into meeting Oliver straight away, which was why Derek was now sat in the master bedroom with her, hoping against hope that she'd come round to the idea of her little brother having come home before Oliver started screaming and making Stiles panic again.
"Did you have a good time at Scott and Allison's?" He asked as Remy drummed her heels against his shins.
"I had a bath with Alfie!" Remy replied distractedly, trying to prise Derek's fingers apart from where he had them linked together around her waist. "And played ponies with Scott."
"Want to play ponies now?"
"No!"
"What shall we do then?"
"Read."
"Want to go get a book?" Derek asked, loosening his hold on Remy as she nodded and slid off his lap, heading for the bookshelf on the landing. He smiled, listening to Stiles moving around downstairs, talking softly to Oliver. Remy reappeared in the bedroom doorway, Stiles' huge book on Norse mythology hugged tightly against her chest. Derek shook his head and smiled as he took the book from her, lifting her up onto the bed. Remy operated on a 'the bigger the better' approach to books, and currently much preferred anything she deemed a "daddy book" over books actually aimed at three year olds. Derek was secretly a little pleased about that, as it meant he didn't have to read any of the obnoxiously pink books about fairies and princesses that people kept buying for Remy.
He lay back against the pillows, waiting until Remy had settled with her head against his shoulder, her thumb wedged firmly in her mouth, before he opened the book at random and started reading.
He was completely absorbed in reading about Baldr that he didn't notice that Remy was tugging on his shirt, trying to get his attention.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"What's baby's name?"
"He's called Oliver." Derek replied, closing the book but keeping his finger between the pages to mark his place. "But I bet he'd let you call him Ollie if you ask him nicely."
"Hmm." Remy put her thumb back in her mouth, kicking at his thigh until he started reading again.
Another ten minutes later, she pulled on his shirt again and he closed the book properly, throwing it down towards the end of the bed.
"Will he play with my toys?"
"He's a bit too small to play with your toys at the moment." Derek explained, running his fingers through Remy's wavy hair.
"He can play with Kipper." Remy replied. Derek smiled down at her; Kipper was Remy's favourite stuffed animal, a fluffy blue dog that Peter had given her for her first birthday, right before he'd passed away. Why it was called Kipper, he didn't know, Remy had just been adamant from the outset that that was the toy's name.
"I thought Kipper was your favourite."
"I'll share him."
"I bet he'd really like that."
"Can we see?"
"See what? If he likes Kipper?" Derek asked with a confused frown.
"No. Can we see the baby?"
"Of course you can see him. You're his big sister."
Remy nodded, scooting down the bed and clambering off the mattress. Derek called her back as she raced towards the stairs, taking hold of her hand so she didn't fall.
"Shh!" Stiles said quickly as Remy burst into the lounge, making a bee line for where he sat on the couch, his foot up on the coffee table next to Oliver's carry cot. "Ollie's just gone to sleep."
"But I want to see!"
"You can look at him, but you need to be quiet and not wake him up."
Remy scowled at him and turned to look at Derek for confirmation. Derek shrugged, sitting down beside Stiles on the couch and smiling at him. Remy scrambled onto the couch between the two of them, resting her hands on Stiles' knee as she leant forward to peer at Oliver.
"You OK?" Derek asked quietly. .
"It's not illegal to give whisky to babies right? To make them be quiet and go to sleep?" Stiles winked at him over Remy's back, smiling happily when he extended his arm along the back of the couch and across Stiles' shoulders.
Derek rolled his eyes and smiled at him, grabbing hold of Remy's hand as she reached out to poke Oliver. "Don't wake him up, Rem."
"It's not bedtime." Remy pointed out, scowling at Derek.
"Yeah, but Ollie doesn't know that yet, peanut." Stiles told her, wrapping his arm around her and lowering his head to blow a raspberry on her stomach. "He needs lots of sleep because he's so little. He's got lots of growing to do."
"Can I play with him?" Remy asked, squirming as Stiles pulled her onto his lap. She flopped against his chest, jamming her thumb in her mouth and twisting her other fingers in her hair as she watched Ollie sleep. A comfortable silence descended on them; Derek watch lazily as Stiles closed his eyes, head lolling to one side slightly as Remy snuggled against his chest. He smiled to himself, nudging up the sleeve of Stiles' t-shirt and stroking the top of his arm lightly.
"Let's not get anymore." Stiles said quietly, resting his chin on top of Remy's head and cracking one eye open to look over at Derek. "That one screams all the time and this one never stops asking questions."
"Takes after her dad." Derek smiled, leaning over and giving Stiles a quick kiss, tangling his hand in Stiles' hair.
"Little eyes!" Remy cut in, pointing excitedly towards the carry cot, where Oliver was blinking sleepily.
"Over you go peanut." Stiles murmured, lifting Remy onto Derek's lap and leaning forward to pick Oliver up, making gentle shushing noises when he started to grumble. Remy whined, struggling up off Derek's lap to stand on the cushions between them again, leaning close to Stiles and Oliver.
"Hi Ollie." She reached out to touch him, stopping just before her fingers made contact with Oliver and looking up at Stiles for reassurance.
"Be gentle." He nodded, smiling when Remy patted Oliver's back with exaggerated care before leaning close and kissing him. "Good girl."
"Kipper!" She squealed, jumping off the couch and running from the room, heading for the stairs. Derek listened intently as she headed into her bedroom, chattering happily to herself as she looked for Kipper.
"Remember when we just used to have to go and fight assorted supernatural beasties out in the woods?" Stiles asked quietly, carefully passing Oliver to Derek and leaning against him, one hand resting on his thigh. "I'm sure that was easier than this parenting malarkey."
"Speaking as one of those supernatural beasties," Derek murmured, pressing a fond kiss against Oliver's head and unashamedly breathing in the scent of content baby, "I much prefer this."
Author's Note: So, I have no kids and hardly any of my friends have kids, so apologies if Remy doesn't seem right for a three year old in this! The last three year old I had to deal with (in work) threw toy elephants at me and shrieked at me...