Disclaimer: Teen Wolf and all of its characters and elements are a product of their creator Jeff Davis and subsequently belong to him and MTV. Also, title is from Hoechlin, because he is adorable.

Notes: Not beta read. Sorry for any and all grammar/structure mistakes. Enjoy.

Derek Hale, at twenty, never dreamed of becoming a father. It wasn't that he didn't like children—it was more along the lines of the fact that he could not imagine himself in a situation that would ever result in a child. When it just so happened that you found yourself manipulated by an older woman and your entire family (aside from an older sister and a now catatonic uncle) burned to death as a direct consequence, you may have grown up to have a few issues with trust and intimacy. Thus, there were no girlfriends, no one-night-stands or even any sex in general and definitely no babies. However, this did not explain the quiet noises of two tiny, socked feet padding down his apartment hallway.

Derek rolled over from his back to face the doorway just as the feet came to a stop outside of his door. He suppressed a smile as he watched the door slip open a few inches and an aforementioned socked foot crept into view. Deciding to play along, he quickly closed his eyes and evened his breathing out as much as he could, listening to the sounds of his son sneaking into the room. Derek didn't have to wait long and snatched the small leaping body out of the air as it completed its task of entering the room and reaching the bed.

"Daddy!" Stiles' delighted squeals filled the room as Derek flopped him over onto the bed. He settled back into the pillows and lifted an arm for Stiles to squirm his way under. Pressing his nose to the crown of his head, Derek's wolf rumbled in contentment at the scent of his cub, and his eyes flared in response. Catching the flash of blue, Stiles lifted his gaze to his father's and allowed his own eyes to briefly flash green. "Good morning, Daddy."

"Good morning, buddy. Sleep well?"

"No. I miss Laura. She was sa-sap-supposed to read me my story before bed." Stiles sniffled quietly and buried his face into Derek's neck.

Derek cringed and ran a hand down the back of Stiles' head to cup the back of his neck. "I know, buddy, but Laura had to go on a trip. Remember? We talked about this. Back to Daddy and Aunt Laura's hometown to take care of a few things. She'll be back in just six more sleeps."

"Just six more?"

"Yes. Now, how about we go make some pancakes? I could hear that tummy growling all the way from your room. After that, we can even call Laura, okay?" With that, Derek swung himself out of bed followed by his slightly disheartened child. In attempts to lighten the mood, he hoisted Stiles up onto his shoulders (one of his favorite positions) and made his way to the kitchen with the accompaniment of elated giggles.

Derek placed the plate of cut up pancakes along with a glass of milk on the table in front of Stiles before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The side of his mouth quirked up at the sight of Stiles attempting to not make a mess; his tiny little eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he carefully speared a piece of pancake before stuffing it into his cheek. "I did it all by myself, Daddy!"

"I see that, good job." Derek leaned over to gently chuck him under the chin. "But no more talking with your mouth full, okay?"

"Okay!" Stiles chirped before turning his attention back to his breakfast. Leaving the little chipmunk to it, Derek turned to lean on the counter and pulled out his cellphone to dial his sister.

"Hey, little brother! How are you and Midget doing?"

"Terrible, Laura. Left to our own unsupervised devices we've destroyed the apartment."

"Listen, loser, I don't know who told you that you were funny, but they were lying, okay? So just stop."

"Stiles misses you. You weren't here to read him his bed time story. He didn't want me to do it."

"Well, no one does read quite as well as me, Der. Let me talk to him."

"Hold on." Derek turned back around to face Stiles. "Guess who wants to talk to you?" Stiles, breakfast forgotten, made grabby hands at the phone and he handed it over.

"Auntie Laura! You have to come home now." Derek smirked at the exaggerated pout on his son's face before leaving him to talk to his sister as he set about cleaning up the breakfast mess. As he was loading the last dish into the dishwasher he felt Stiles' tug onto his pajama pants. "Laura wants to talk to you."

He accepted the phone before sending Stiles off to pick out his clothes for the day and to get ready for a bath. "He's right, you know. You should come home—you shouldn't have even gone."

"Der, you know someone needed to come back here. A spiral carved into a dead deer? That's a deliberate message and we couldn't just ignore it, especially not in our hometown."

"I should have gone with yo—"

"Derek, just stop. We both know that Stiles is your main priority and everything is going to be fine anyway. Besides, who's the Alpha in this pack? It's my responsibility."

"You'll call me if anything comes up?"

"Duh. Now go give Midget his bath before he tries to do it himself again. Later!" Sighing, he mumbled his own good-bye, ended the call and went in search of his cub.

After successfully removing any trace of syrup from his offspring with a bath and getting him dressed, Derek elected to place Stiles in the living room with a show while he got himself ready for the day.

"What show do you want to watch while I get ready? After that, we need to run to the store because you, little man, have eaten all of the food in this house!"

"Nuh-uh!" Stiles stomped his little foot before poking his father in the stomach. "You and Auntie Laura did!"

"Well, maybe Auntie Laura did." He agreed conspiratorially and swung Stiles up from the floor and deposited him on the couch. "Show?"

"The Magic School Bus, please!" Stiles rolled about on the couch a bit before curling up near the left arm. Derek repressed a shudder at the mention of that show before turning to comply with his son's wishes. He had never understood some children's shows, but at least this one was somewhat educational and it could have always been worse. Derek had to draw the line when he came home and caught Laura letting Stiles watch Oobi. What. Even.

"Here you go. Come get me if you need anything?" Derek rolled his eyes at the vague noise of affirmation he received from his child (it was like he didn't even exist when this show was on) before heading off to the shower. One drawback to using werewolf hearing to check up on your spawn? He'd never get those catchy jingles out of his head.

"We've got to get a new car, Stiles." Derek muttered to himself as he struggled to click the seatbelt over Stiles' chest over the backseat. "This is ridiculous." When he finally heard the snap, he slumped back into his own seat exasperated. "Not that Laura would ever give this thing up. Anyway, all set to go to the store now?"

"Can we get orange juice? Ms. Frizzle says that it's good for your body."

"Well, if Ms. Frizzle says so, I don't see why not."

"Awesome!"

He shook his head in amusement before turning on a child-friendly station for Stiles to sing along to on the way to the store before pulling out into traffic. One aspect that Derek was grateful for about their apartment was the fact that it was relatively close to a shopping center so it wasn't long before he was pulling into a parking space. "Okay, Stiles. I need you to tell me the rules before we go in."

Stiles squirmed down in his carseat before shooting his father an exact replication of one of Laura's bitchfaces (apparently he was going to have to have a talk with her about using those in front of him so often), "No talking about the wolfy business and absolutely no magic. I know, Daddy!"

He couldn't repress a snort as he mouthed 'wolfy business' to himself. "Is that what we're calling it now? But, yes, Stiles, that's right. It's not safe for us to talk about those things. I just don't want you to get hurt. It's also unsafe for you to be using magic out in public, buddy—you could hurt yourself or someone around you. Alright?" He glanced in the mirror and waited for Stiles to nod in agreement, then opened the car door to get out.

Stiles was sent off to his room to play while Derek put the groceries away when they got home; he figured that would give him enough time to get a few chores done around the apartment before getting a few things done for himself. Occasionally, he would extend his hearing to listen for Stiles to make sure he was behaving himself or that he hadn't hurt himself, but he appeared to be happily chattering to both himself and his toys in his room and his heart rate never spiked above normal.

After about an hour and a half, when he was in the middle of his workout routine in the living room, Derek heard the door to Stiles' room creek open and his feet pad down the hallway; he paused in the middle of his push-up and smiled at his cub when he came into view. "What's up, little man?"

Stiles grinned mischievously before scampering over to his father and climbing up onto his back. "Hi, Daddy. It's time for lunch, you know!"

Derek winced as he took a foot to the kidney, but then completed three more push-ups to cause Stiles to giggle. "Is it? I suppose I should feed you. What would you like for lunch?"

Stiles didn't even pause to think about it, rolling off of his dad and bolting for the kitchen. "Grilled cheese with tomato slices, please!"

Derek rolled to his feet to follow after him, but not before slipping his phone out of his pocket to check for an update from Laura. He frowned when he noticed that there wasn't anything.

"Uuufffmmmoh. My. God." He murmured just as he face-planted onto the couch. He just didn't understand how such a tiny little body could have so much energy—and for crying-out-loud, he was a werewolf! How did normal human beings keep up with toddlers!? Just maybe a tiny whimper escaped him at the sound of the vicious beast—he meant his tiny, innocent little cub—approaching, but Stiles merely snuggled up underneath his arm on the couch. Letting out a sigh of relief, he tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and settled down for an afternoon nap.

"What are you drawing?"

"Laura as a wolf. You're over here, Daddy, see." Derek furrowed his eyebrows at the stick-figure that ironically was lacking in the eyebrow department but was sporting some vicious side-burns as well as some blue eyes. "And here's me." He moved his gaze to a tiny little stick-figure that was standing next to the wolf-figure with green eyes. "It's for you. It's our family!"

"It's perfect, Stiles."

Parenthood, Derek had come to learn was definitely a process of trial and error-take dinner for example. No one wanted to watch an independent and determined toddler feed himself spaghetti noodles and meatballs and be left with that aftermath. So, Derek had experimented and upgraded to penne noodles and meatballs—much easier for said independent and determined toddler to wolf down all on his own with significantly less clean up (it really was all about appreciating the little things in life).

As he put the water on to boil for the pasta, he helped Stiles wash his hands then set him down at the kitchen table with a head of lettuce and let him rip it to shreds for a salad. "Daddy, I want to add a cucumber to my salad. But you have to use your claws to cut it up! It's more special that way!"

Indulgently (because, let's be real: if there was one thing that Derek Hale inherently liked about himself, it was that he was a werewolf. He was honestly thrilled by the childish awe and wonder that Stiles exhibited about it), Derek used his claws to peel and slice Stiles a cucumber, as well as sneaking a few tomatoes and dried cranberries into the salad; he accepted and returned his cub's hug of thanks in return before turning to add the pasta to the water and starting the meatballs.

Humming to himself, Stiles carefully divided the salad up between two bowls, his tongue peeking out in concentration. When he finished, he hoped down from the table and went to wash his hands again before glancing up at his daddy. He narrowed his eyes—his daddy who seemed to be busy and not paying attention. So maybe if he was really quiet he could sneak over to the fridge and-"Stiles."

"I just wanted some orange juice. Sheesh!"

Derek snorted a laugh, before reaching over to turn the stove off. A quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger directed a somewhat petulant toddler over to the table as he finished getting dinner ready; setting the plates of penne down next to the salad, he looked at Stiles expectantly.

"May I please have some orange juice?"

"Yes. Thank you for using your manners this time." As he went to retrieve the drink, he checked his phone again. Still no word from Laura.

After dinner, the pair re-settled at the kitchen table in order to go over some of Stiles' preschool curriculum; Derek watched Stiles dutifully write out his alphabet for his daddy, his own name, his father's name and then his Aunt Laura's name. Then he helped sort each letter into groups of vowels and consonants, before asking Stiles to go over the sound each letter produced. When Stiles had gotten those all correct, they moved on to the days of the week, months and seasons. Before letting him up from the table, Derek asked Stiles to go over the numbers one through twenty, ruffling his hair when he was done. "That was awesome, big guy! Aunt Laura is going to be so proud of you when she gets back."

"Auntie Laura said that soon I'd be able to read all by myself!" Stiles replied, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

"Well, I don't think she'd lie to her favorite nephew." Derek leaned over to scoop Stiles up and set him on the floor before he bounced there himself. "And I don't doubt that you'll be reading in no time, buddy. Time to get ready for bed. Can you go pick out your pajamas? I'll be there after I clean up."

Derek opened the door to the sight of Stiles wiggling into his pajama bottoms on the floor. He kneeled down to help him right himself.

"Can you help me with my shirt, please?"

"Sure thing, bud."

Once Stiles was fully outfitted in his pajamas, Derek carried him to the bathroom to help him wash up for bed. He placed him on the stepping stool next to the sink before opening the medicine cabinet to retrieve two Flintstones Vitamins. He handed those off to Stiles before readying both toothbrushes. "Vitamins first. Then teeth."

"Ahh!"

"Charming. Perhaps you're spending too much time with Aunt Laura," muttered Derek dryly before he handed over the toothbrush.

Finished in the bathroom, the pair moved back into Stiles' room and the toddler made a running leap for the bed and bounced twice upon landing; he then proceeded to squirm his way up toward the pillows before turning expectant eyes upon his father.

"Only five more sleeps. Then Aunt Laura will be home to read you your story, Stiles." Derek soothed as he smoothed back Stiles' hair from his face—maybe it was time for a haircut.

"Can we call her?"

"Not tonight, but we can call her again in the morning. It's time to rest now." He leaned over to nuzzle along Stiles' neck before pulling the blankets up to tuck him in. "Do you want your nightlight on?"

"Yes, please."

Derek crossed the room to turn the small dinosaur nightlight on before heading towards the door. "I love you, Stiles."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

"Good night, buddy, sweet dreams." Derek waited for Stiles to murmur his own good-night and burrow further down into his covers before flicking out the light and closing the door.

Right. So that kid that Derek could never see himself having? Interesting story.