Hello, I hope you enjoy this little story. Just something I had tossing around in my head for a while!

The sun was bright and warm as it made its way through the curtains into the lofts bedroom. I turned from my stomach, resting on my arms to look at the mass beside me. He was sleeping still, snoring lightly, with a smile on his freckled face. He looked so peaceful and calm, and as I stared he slowly woke up. One large brown eye peeked open, and his smile got even broader, forgetting his dreams immediately. He turned until his face was looking up at mine,
"Morning Dere" He croaked out, smile still wide,
"Morning Stiles" I answered back, my smile matching his. He leaned over, placing his hands underneath himself for support, and placed his lips lightly against mine. At first we didn't move much, just enjoying the others presence. However, that diluted and we slowly began battling for dominance, his tongue dancing with mine, in a claim for territory. We moved our bodies in this strange battle for a few moments before we both parted, in desperate need for air. We laid there for a moment, smiling, eyes meeting, every few seconds letting out a small giggle.
"Alright!" I exclaimed, "Breakfast?" I questioned my boyfriend, as I climbed out from under the sheets, my bare chest being shocked by the coolness of the loft, as my legs patted in tight black leggings remained warm,
"Sounds good" Stiles smiled once more, only for it to remain planted on his face, he also got up, his bare chest showered in Gods kisses, or more commonly known as, freckles. He was wearing a pair of my track suit pants, that were a little too big, falling slightly to reveal a soft trail of pubic hair forming his snail trail.

As we both made our way into the kitchen we played with each other's hands, again in a fight for dominance, when finally, they lay perfectly in each other, the final pieces of a puzzle. We rounded the corner to be greeted by something much stranger than expected. A small boy laid, curled up on our lounge. He was wrapped in a pastel green blanket, and was dressed in a dinosaur onesie, his strawberry blonde hair spiked up in all different directions, and his face showed content. My nose spiked up, as I sniffed the air. I was surprised not to have smelt someone in our presence earlier, but as I sniffed, I realised why his sent didn't spike any reaction. He smelt like Lydia, mixed with something else I knew, but hadn't smelt in a long time, and along with that he smelt like a… wolf.
"Why is there a small boy on our lounge?" Stiles questioned in a whisper. I wasn't sure how to voice what I smelt, and Stiles looked at me as though my face showed confusion,
"What is it? Derek what can you smell" His features showed that he was beginning to worry, a scent of anxiety building in the air.
"He um, he smells familiar" I stated, not lying, but not telling the whole truth either,
"Familiar like what?" Stiles was still backed in the end of the hall with me, not yet venturing into the lounge room, eager, as he normally would. I didn't answer and it became clear, not only from what I could smell on him, but by the change of look on his face, that Stiles grew bored of this form of integration, or lack thereof. Stiles slowly walked over to the boy, looking back in shock when I didn't stop him, however he continued. As he reached the small boy, asleep on our lounge he noticed a note, in neat writing he hadn't seen for years,

'Stiles, Derek, I am sorry. I didn't want you to know, hence why you never have. But it has come to the point that neither Jackson or I can look after him. He is my son, and I ask that you please look after him. Don't come looking for us, we will already be long gone. I know this makes no sense, but believe it is for the best.

Yours truly, Lydia
P.S His name is August James'

As I read the note, over Stiles shoulder, I began to recognise the scents that filled our home, Lydia of course, but Jackson also, there was werewolf and banshee and scents of betrayal left over from the people who left him here, as well as love and sadness.
Stiles took a few small steps back, looking intently at the small boy, with his mother's hair, and father's eyes.
"Stiles?" I questioned, worried for the look on Stiles' face matched that of the scents wafting around the boy, betrayal, love and sadness. The truth was we hadn't seen either Lydia or Jackson in a long time. After she graduated, Lydia went to college in England, to be with Jackson. She sent messages every now and then, which eventually ended, however gave no return address, never allowing the big news to make it through to them.

When Kira and Scott got married, they left a spare seat at the table for their friend. When Derek and Stiles began dating, they emailed the last known address that Lydia had, however they were always sent back, never reaching the girl. When Kira got pregnant, and when she had Stiles' niece, Allison, they wrote a card to the pair that they no longer knew, never sending it. And when the Sheriff past away, peacefully in his sleep, as his heart gave in, Stiles cried as he tore up the invite to the funeral, for someone who had been one of his best friends.

They had not seen Lydia in years, roughly three, and the answer as to why lay on their lounge. The boy looked about two, and next to the lounge was a large suitcase, presumably filled with the boy's things.
I turned around now to face stiles, as I whispered my concerns for him,
"Stiles, love, it's okay, please don't be afraid" the terror in his scent, and that which was matched by the croak in my voice, alarmed me. Stiles finally looked at me,
"What do we do?" his voice was small, he seemed so afraid, and yet full of love at the same time. When slowly, but surly, the boy in the lounge began to stir.
"Mama? Dada?" panic once again filled the air, as the little boy realised he was lost, without his parents. I didn't know what to do, I turned to look at him, as he squirmed, I had no knowledge on children.
I was surprised when Stiles, swiftly, walked past me, over to the small boy.
"Hey, It's okay, I'm here, don't panic" His cooing calmed even me, and anxiety left the air, well most of it.
The small boy looked at Stiles with awe, and sniffed, Stiles turned to me and questioned,
"Did he just sniff me?"
"Of course!" I exclaimed, "He is a wolf, like Jackson, he can scent you" The boy looked at me, and back at Stiles, and seemed to settle with safety. His parents must have taught him about us, preparing him for this day, but what even was this day?
"Derek, is he ours?" Stiles questioned me, filled with hope, and fear and yet still love. I guessed he would be ours, he was entrusted into our care, and Stiles and I were ready for children, that's what we had been planning for, for months.

Stiles' eyes remained on me, the only answer that came out of my mouth was, "Yes darling, he is ours". It made sense to, we didn't question it. I smiled contently at Stiles, happy that we had a family. One that didn't make sense, but a family nonetheless.