Author's Note:
New chapter is up! I'm trying to schedule myself and get the next chapter out around September 15th. Let me know what you think! I tried to put some fluffy yet quality family moments in this chapter (5K+ words!) to hold you guys over!
Super big thanks to Casey for finding tons of errors and chunks that I definitely needed to revise!
Also, I'm looking for someone to do some art for my story. I'm willing to pay, so leave a comment here or message me on FF (cathedralsinmyheart) or Tumblr (heartofcathedrals) if interested!
x
Stiles had expected a small bungalow with rusted shutters and a cute little sign out front that said something along the lines of "Camp McCall" or "Sea La Vie", but after turning onto Dune Road he realized just how wrong he'd been. Though the houses weren't mansions by size, what he could see through the windows told him that they were definitely owned by millionaires: stainless steel kitchens, living rooms with white couches, and televisions on vintage brick walls that were bigger than his bedroom. That, and not one of the houses had a sign with a punny or creative name.
It started to drizzle. Scott pulled into the cobble driveway of a medium-sized, grey-paneled house, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. "I'd pull into the garage so that we could unload without getting wet, but I've got so much junk in there from fixing the house up after Hurricane Sandy," he explained, and despite the rain, the adults were able to unpack the Chevy Suburban, kids included, in just three trips.
Stiles loved that the double front doors opened to a spacey foyer with a kitchen on the left and a bedroom with a full bath to the right. A windy set of cherry wood stairs that Stiles would kill to have in his own house stood as the centerpiece. "The island in the kitchen is bigger than our dining room table," Derek commented as he unpacked their clothes in their guest bedroom and placed them in what had to be a hand-made cedar dresser. "I'm afraid to touch anything! This house is all antique wood and throw rugs! What if Max eats a pillow? Could we even afford it?"
Stiles was too tired to answer from the bed, his eyes closed as he thought about the way the dark turquoise slab atop the island in the kitchen reminded him of the clear, calm water in Aruba during their honeymoon. The gentle pale gray of the first floor walls made him think of Derek's personality, how there was both a darkness and light to him, how he always carried sadness with him, but also a deep sense of contentment.
"Babe?"
"Hmm?"
"You're not feeling well," Derek said. Stiles felt the king bed shift slightly before a hand rested on his.
"You want the truth?"
"I already know the truth. I can hear it," Derek explained, bringing attention to Stiles' wheezing.
"The air here is so thick," Stiles complained. He tried to take a deep breath, but all he could hear was the constriction in his lungs. "It's like breathing underwater. It's gotta be the humidity."
"Why didn't you say something in the car?"
"Because I didn't feel like I was underwater in the car," Stiles explained before taking a gaspy breath in. "Is it dusty in here?"
"House is spotless. They must have a cleaning lady. Or three," Derek said, trying to make his husband laugh.
"Then why do I feel like this?" Stiles groaned with a sigh.
"You're probably exhausted. You've done more in the last three days than you have in the last week and a half," Derek said as he went over to Isaac's backpack and pulled out his nebulizer.
"I don't need a treatment."
"Your lungs are telling me otherwise," Derek argued.
"Let's just go downstairs and make sure Tessa and Isaac aren't battling it out over a game again." Stiles said as he lifted himself from the bed and started to walk toward the door, Derek catching his arm in his hand to stop him.
"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to," he said softly, his grip lessening, "but I do want to remind you that not taking your meds and resting when you were feeling crappy and on the brink of a serious attack is exactly why you still feel crappy right now."
"Well, guilt-tripping me into taking meds is the perfect way to get me to take them," Stiles huffed. There it was, Derek thought, the sarcastic-side of Stiles that he hadn't seen since Father's day. He knew it had to be the prednisone again, and the frustration; Stiles had been taking all of his pills and inhalers, had even set alarms on his phone as reminders, but was still feeling weak and wheezy at times. Derek could see through Stiles' attempts at endurance, knew he was pushing just to do his part in taking care of the kids. It was hard to watch, and though he hadn't wanted to say anything, he knew that that was exactly the sentiment that had gotten them to this point.
"Guilt-tripping you the last thing I'm trying to do," Derek finally said as he looked his husband straight in the eye and let his grip on his arm fall so that he could point Stiles straight in the center of his chest. "And you fucking know it."
Stiles winced at the poke and let his eyes drift away, any glib leftover from his previous comment suddenly gone. Because he knew his husband was looking at him with those eyes, the same ones he remembered from the car as he felt the inhaler going between his lips and then again when he'd woken up in the hospital, and it was all too much. He did fucking know it, and he didn't think it would make it any fucking easier to admit it out loud.
"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered as an attempt to settle the air, finally letting himself make eye contact with his husband when the words had a moment to stick. "Just…please don't tell Scott and Allison?"
"That you're not feeling well?"
"That I'm doing a treatment. I don't want them to worry."
Derek had to hold back a laugh at the thought that Scott would actually worry, but he did let himself smile as Stiles came back into the room and sat on the bed.
"I don't think they'll understand," Stiles said with a sigh as he rubbed at the back of his neck.
"I'll tell them you're taking a nap with Maxine," Derek promised. He pulled Isaac's backpack over to grab a nebule of albuterol. He could hear the infant fast asleep in the Pack 'n Play in the corner of the room, her breaths slow and even. "I gave her some of Deaton's tincture, so she should be out for another two hours or so."
"Did I ever tell you that you're the best?" Derek heard as he filled the nebulizer cup with medicine. He smiled and noticed Stiles looking over at him with sleepy eyes.
"I just do what I know you would do if our roles were reversed," Derek explained with a shrug.
"How do you know I'd actually do all of this?"
"What's 'all of this'?" Derek asked as he gestured to the room, curious.
"Me. Isaac and Maxine. The asthma."
"That's just four things."
"And the house and car payments and mowing the lawn and dealing with the fact that the water pressure in the upstairs bathroom likes to cut out when someone flushes the toilet or does the dishes or puts in a load-"
"Okay," Derek laughed, turning the nebulizer on. "I think you can stop now."
"I was only getting started," Stiles laughed softly before coughing. He sat up to get it to stop and took the mouthpiece from Derek, his breaths slow and calculated as they waited to see if it would get the tickle in his lungs to go away.
"Do you realize that you're always setting up treatments for me?" Stiles asked when he finally felt like he was okay. Derek had crawled in beside him on the bed, his hand wrapping around Stiles' as they shared a moment.
"I guess it's just out of habit with Ize," Derek shrugged. "I can stop."
"It's kinda nice, actually," Stiles admitted, leaning into his husband. "And I hope you know I'd do the same for you. I was only joking before."
"When your 'all of this' was actually only four things?"
"Well, the four things running your life right now."
"Asthma doesn't run our lives," Derek said, Stiles noting how he'd changed his wording to reflect the entire family. "It's part of our lives, but it doesn't run them. I don't know how many times I have to explain to you that I'm okay with everything you listed before. I wouldn't trade you and Ize and Maxine for the world, asthma or not."
Stiles took a few breaths of medicine before asking, "But don't you ever think about what your life would be if you weren't with me? No kids, no stress. No faulty shower."
"I don't have to think about what my life would be like without you because what I always wanted was a family with my best friend, and I got that." Derek squeezed Stiles' hand at the thought, his husband's breaths through the mouthpiece and the buzzing of the compressor the only sounds in the room. He waited for Stiles to respond and grew worried when he didn't. "Everything okay?"
"If you had to ask, then no."
"You don't want 'all of this'?" Derek asked, suddenly afraid of the answer. The thought had never crossed his mind. Hell, why would it? Why would Stiles, his husband, the one who pushed for marriage and a house and kids, not want this?
"I want 'all of this' minus the asthma and the anemia and Isaac's allergies."
Derek hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he'd heard Stiles' full answer, the air in the room humid and thick as he took a few calming inhales. "I thought you were going to say…"
"That I don't want this?"
"Do you?"
"Of course I fucking do!"
"Then why are you scaring me by bringing up what I'd change in my life?" Derek's anger rose, the topic a sensitive one. What could be more important than family? Hadn't they agreed early on that that was something you never left behind? "Things are nowhere near perfect but I don't really want perfect. I didn't think you did, either."
"I don't need perfect either," Stiles started before taking a few breaths of medicine. Part of him wished they could stop talking so he could actually finish the treatment his lungs we asking for, but he also knew that it was time to let Derek know why he'd really been so moody lately. "I just sort of wish I didn't have asthma."
"Captain Obvious," Derek said with a laugh.
"I'm being serious here," Stiles said, slightly hurt.
"I know," Derek assured him by rubbing his arm. "I laughed because you wish you didn't have it, and yet it's the only reason we even know how to truly help Ize. That first visit to Dr. Marmon? You were on point, and I was panicking, which was better than both of us panicking. It could have gone south really quickly, but it didn't because you knew so much. I spent a lot of time being extremely jealous, envious, even."
"You envied my asthma?" Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes as he took a few breaths of mediation.
"The knowledge. The way you understood. That connection."
"The one I don't have with Max, you mean?"
"It's getting there. She let you hold her earlier," Derek reminded him.
"Sure, anyway, you just said before that you don't believe in fate."
"I don't, but I do believe that sometimes things work out. That some shitty things have a silver lining. I guess I just always saw your asthma as one of them." He shrugged. "For Isaac's sake." Stiles didn't answer, just continued his treatment as he thought about Derek's words. "And that's my cue to let you finish your medication and take a nap," he added, kissing his husband on the cheek before heading downstairs.
Seconds later, Max started to wake, Stiles struggling to keep his treatment going while also pulling her into his arms on the bed. Between the wires and her thrashing it was near impossible, be he managed to get her wrapped in a blanket and against his chest. He hadn't meant to, but as Stiles was relaxing again he let a forceful exhale go through his mouthpiece, causing a whistling noise. Max began to giggle, and then Stiles did, too. Soon, he was doing it every few breaths, enjoying the moment with his little girl.
After turning the machine off, he closed his eyes, feeling Max sprawled on his chest like Isaac used to do, the rhythm of their breathing matching. Instead of tears and scratching, she calmed and nestled her head over his heart. He leaned up to kiss her hair, one of her tiny hand's reaching to grab a single finger. And it was like that that they napped for the next hour, just a dad and his baby girl. The one he'd been waiting with bated breath to finally hold close.
x
After lathering the kids in sun screen and packing some bagels and fruit for the beach the next morning, the McCall and Stilinski-Hale families set up camp ten feet from the wooden walkway that led from the back deck to the ocean front. A mix of chairs, sheets, and towels lined the sand, the kids enjoying their breakfast with Allison while the Scott, Derek, and Stiles tossed a football back and forth. It was the perfect way to start the summer, but an even better way to start the Fourth of July.
To cool off, the guys took Isaac and Tessa down to the water while Allison sat with a beach read, Max napping behind her beneath the umbrella. Stiles and Derek had initially been nervous to be so far away from their daughter, afraid Max would refuse to let Allison hold her if she woke up, but they'd been pleasantly surprised when Allison had lifted the child into her arms and gotten her to laugh at her noises and baby talk during breakfast. It was a relief, actually, to know that Max was making some progress, and they had convinced each other that it would be okay to go in the water with Isaac for a little while because Max and Allison were only right up the beach.
"I don't want to wear this stupid vest!" Tessa whined as Scott buckled her in, Derek beside him doing the same for Isaac. "I'm not a baby!"
"It's not about that, Tess. You know my rule. Vest or no swimming at all." Scott tugged on the straps to make sure they were secure before putting his hand out for her to take.
Tessa stomped her foot and crossed her arms, face twisting in anger.
"I can't take you out into the water if you're not going to follow the rules and cooperate," Scott explained. "You are old enough to know how dangerous the waves can be if you're not being a smart swimmer."
"I'm scared," Isaac whispered, Derek checking to make sure Isaac's vest was on correctly.
"I know, but Daddy and I will be out there with you. We won't go that far. Just up to our knees." The child took a few steps back and put his hands to his mouth, his cheeks scrunching as though he was about to cry.
"Or, maybe we can just run from the waves as they break on the shore while Papa and Scott go out," Stiles interrupted, lifting Isaac up and into his arms. "Like this!"
Derek watched as Stiles run toward the ocean, Isaac bouncing in his arms, until he reached the place in the sand where the water met his toes. The second the wave crashed, he ran to beat the flow, foamy white bubbles swirling around his ankles. Isaac was giggling in his bright orange vest, and Stiles was laughing right along side him.
"Again!" Isaac begged. He let Stiles do this a few more times with him in his arms before he kicked his feet to be let down. Derek smiled, beaming with pride for his son. He knew how much his anxiety held him back, how something as simple as being the hitter on his little league team or touching sand for the first time could be scary. There were so many things he hadn't done, hadn't been exposed to, that Derek sometimes felt like he had another infant, another Max, someone who relied on him and Stiles to be a guide in so many tiny but important ways.
"Papa, watch!" Isaac yelled, his smile so wide it lit up his entire face. Stiles had just unclipped the vest and tossed it aside, giving their son some space to show that he could do it all on his own. The wave rounded, this one bigger than before, and Isaac watched a second too long after it crashed, the tiny bubbles reaching around his knees as he ran with all of his might. It didn't matter, though; he was happy as a clam in his bright blue bathing suit shorts with little white whales, splashing in what was left of the wave before it receded. "I did it!" he cheered.
"Yes you did! That's my boy!" Derek praised, coming next to Stiles and taking his hand as they watched Isaac continue to play in the waves.
"Remember when we first brought him home and he could barely climb the stairs because he couldn't breathe?" Derek asked.
"Things I don't really enjoy thinking about," Stiles answered, looking at his husband in confusion. "But okay."
"I brought it up because I was thinking about how he has grown so much and become this strong little person despite all of the bullshit going on. And I used to be afraid that he wouldn't be, because I thought I didn't know to help him become that," Derek confessed, moving closer to Stiles. "I guess the funny part is that he's the one who taught me how to be strong. How to be father. How to enjoy the little things."
"He is a strong little dude, isn't he?" Stiles chuckled as he reflected internally on the last year. Who would have thought that they'd be here, at the beach in New York, watching their baby boy run freely as he soaked up the sun and ran through the waves?
"His Gotcha Day is coming up next month and I thought maybe we could do something special to celebrate."
"Oh, you mean actually enjoy a holiday without anyone getting sick or being admitted to the hospital?" Stiles joked.
"Yeah, something like that." Derek laughed, squeezing his husband's hand.
"What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking Disney, but only if your dad can watch Max."
"Sounds perfect."
"I'm gonna jump in for a few and take a swim before we eat lunch, alright? I love you," Derek said before giving his husband a kiss and running for the ocean. With a perfect dive, he entered the water, his arms cutting through the mounting wave with precision until he was up and over it.
"Daddy, let's build a castle!" Isaac said excitedly as he came and wrapped his arms around his legs.
"It's just sand, Isaac," Stiles had smiled earlier as he took a step off the deck, planting and moving all ten of his toes in the warm grains to show that it was safe. The four-year-old had hesitated for a few seconds before bending down and touching it with his index finger. Once he had decided it was okay he took a small step toward ocean, a smile spreading across his face as he felt the coarse texture against his skin.
"Hey, you know what the best part about sand is?" Stiles had asked excitedly, Isaac shaking his head 'no' as he continued to lift and place his feet. "You can make anything you want out of it!"
"Weally?!" Isaac had asked.
"Mmhm," Stiles had responded.
"Let's ask Tessa if she wants to help," Stiles suggested as they trudged back up the beach with Isaac's vest in tow, Derek doing laps in the water behind them. Scott had joined him, but Tessa had stomped her way back to Allison, her vest splayed out on a chair.
Isaac didn't respond right away, and Stiles knew it had to be the fact that she hadn't exactly been very welcoming. Somewhere between calling him names, putting him in a near chokehold, and embarrassing him in the car, she had lost his trust. Now, Stiles was determined to help them bridge it together for the first time.
After some coaxing from Allison, Tessa agreed to work with Isaac and Stiles to get the castle together. They spent the first half hour relaying buckets to and from the water so that the sand was wet enough to build with, the next full hour devoted to constructing what Stiles promised would be the biggest castle on the entire beach. But Isaac began to yawn as they moved on to the third hour, and although he didn't want to admit that his arms were starting to hurt from digging the moat, it was decided that it was the perfect time to set up an umbrella and sheet beneath it so that they could enjoy the soy butter and jelly sandwiches Allison had just brought from the kitchen. Scott and Derek had come and gone, swimming between drying off in the summer heat.
Isaac could barely keep his eyes open during lunch, so after they put him down for a nap, the adults relaxed in four low-set chairs that faced the ocean. With the cool breeze blowing off of the water, constant rolling of the waves, and sweet scent of coconut sunblock, it was easy to fall into a lazy summer daze that put everyone into a pool of relaxation.
"Where's Isaac?" Derek asked some time later when he'd turned to check on their son and found him missing, stomach dropping as he rose from his beach chair, eyes darting left and right for any signs of their son's bright blue bathing suit bottoms.
Stiles spotted his blonde curls first, watching as Isaac squatted with his yellow bucket in the surf right where a massive wave was planning to break. Derek beat him to the water, though, running and jumping over towels and toys, not even caring that he was throwing sand with every footfall. Scooping Isaac into his arms, he pulled the child away, bucket falling into the crashing wave as it soaked them.
Derek let his eyes close in relief as he held Isaac close and kissed him on his forehead, the child sobbing loudly in response to all of the excitement. It didn't help that judgmental eyes from the McCalls' neighbors followed them the entire way back to their spot on the beach, Isaac's screaming attracting and keeping their attention.
"I think someone's had a little too much sun," Stiles soothed as he watched Derek let a whimpering Isaac down on the towel beneath the umbrella, the little sniffles and quivering lip confirming his suspicions.
Derek crouched down in front of him, breathing heavily from panic. "You don't ever go near the water without Daddy or Papa, do you understand?" he scolded, his voice deep. Isaac pulled away, sobbing starting again out of fear and confusion. Derek covered his face and shook his head when he realized how his reaction had affected his son. He put his arms out to apologize and offer comfort in the form of a hug, but Isaac just screeched and pulled away, deep sobs coming from his small body as Stiles lifted him back into his arms.
"Shhh," Stiles soothed as he made his way toward the house and away from all of the people staring from their chars and towels across the beach. "You're okay. Papa's not mad. He was just afraid that you'd get hurt." Allison gestured towards Max on the towel beside her as a means of saying she'd watch her, Derek waving back as a thank you.
Isaac cowered in Stiles' arms, his sobbing suddenly interrupted by deep gasps for air. "You're making yourself sick, baby," Stiles commented as they ascended the stairs, one hand rubbing Isaac's back. "Relax. Everything's okay now." Isaac began to have coughing fits between gasps, his little chest rising and falling as he worked to breathe.
"I can't tell if it's a panic attack or asthma," Derek said worriedly as they entered the house, both fathers taking a moment to assess Isaac's breathing. Stiles could feel his son's nails clawing into his skin as he held on for what felt like dear life, Isaac's eyes wide as he looked around the room.
"He's shaking. Do you think he's cold? You didn't give him any albuterol this morning, did you?" Stiles was starting to grow anxious, the "checklist" of possible problems starting to form in his head.
"It might be the air conditioning. No, I didn't give him anything other than the steroid inhaler, and that doesn't make him shaky."
"Is he wheezing? God, I can't even tell with the gasping!"
"He's hyperfocusing," Derek finally decided after realizing that there was barely any wheezing involved. "It's a panic attack."
"Okay," Stiles soothed as he rocked his son in his arms. "We're okay. Hey, how about a nice warm bubble bath, hmm?"
Derek went to draw the bath while Stiles held Isaac close and tried to calm his breathing with a technique Dr. Galler had explained during their latest phone call. "Deep breaths, nice and slow," he coached, rubbing his son's back. Isaac complied, his head eventually resting on Stiles' shoulder. "There you go. Easy and even."
"I gotted scared," he sniffled, his grip on Stiles loosening after a few minutes. "I thought the bad guy was getting me!"
Stiles hadn't thought of that, and he was sure Derek hadn't, either.
"It was only Papa making sure you were safe," Stiles assured him.
"'Cause he's a productor," Isaac said happily.
"Protector." Stiles smiled,
"That's what I said." Isaac snuggled against Stiles' chest with a sigh of contentment, still shaking slightly. Stiles couldn't help but give his son a reassuring hug and kiss on the head.
"Do you know how much Daddy and Papa love you?"
"To the moon and back! One day, I'm gonna go to the moon," Isaac said as Stiles took him into the bathroom, attention averted from the panic that had been five minutes earlier. "When Papa taked me to the space museum we saw the shuttle."
"We've got an astronaut in training," Derek added, glad his son had calmed down enough. Stiles lowered Isaac into the tub and shimmied his bathing suit off.
"I wanna find moon rocks," Isaac chattered. "Papa said you have to jump around the moon 'cause it's different than home."
"Is that so?" Stiles laughed, giving Isaac a quick wash with soap to get the sunblock off. Together, Stiles and Derek listened to Isaac's babbling, thankful he had relaxed and was preoccupied with a positive memory.
"He does so well and then suddenly I'm worried that he's regressing," Derek commented once Isaac was dry, dressed, and sitting in front of the TV watching Nick Jr.
"Or maybe he's still dealing with a lot," Stiles suggested.
"Well, he's always going to be. It's not like it all just goes away."
"He thought you were the 'bad guy'," Stiles said.
"What?"
"When you grabbed him. He said he got scared because he though you were Sean."
"He knows his name?"
"No, but after I calmed him down he told me why he was afraid. That stuff Dr. Galler talked about the last meeting and phone call, the deep breathing, worked really well. He opened right up. It was…amazing, actually."
"Derek, can you help Tessa and I clean up outside?" Allison asked as she came over with Max, who was snuggled up against her chest with a sweet smile.
"Sure. Thanks for watching the baby, by the way," Derek said as Allison handed Max over to Stiles, who promptly placed her in Tessa's old bouncer on the rug.
"Not a problem at all. I kinda miss that stage," Allison mused as she and Derek went through the back door.
"You let Derek handle Isaac like that?" Scott asked once he was sure Allison, and most importantly, Derek and Tessa, were out of earshot.
"Excuse me?" Stiles asked back, shocked.
"You let Derek use that tone with your son?"
"Well, it's obvious you've never used it with Tessa," Stiles quipped as he came into the kitchen. "Since the kid whines and stomps her foot every time she doesn't get her way."
"Don't bring my family into this," Scott argued.
"Oh, but you can make comments and judgments about my family? Like you know anything about us?"
"I know that you baby Isaac-"
"You don't know the first thing about Isaac!" Stiles whisper-yelled as he got in Scott's face. "Don't you fucking dare!" His breathing picked up and he swallowed hard, careful to form his next words. "That kid over there," he pointed discretely, "that little boy, has been through more in his four years than you've been through in your thirty. And if you ever, ever, comment on my methods of calming Isaac down during a PTSD episode again, you can kiss our friendship goodbye. Consider this your only warning."
Scott made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a huff.
"You don't think I'm serious, but I am, man. I fucking am! Maybe if you had called me back once in this last year you'd understand why I'm so fucking serious."
"I didn't even say anything!"
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to," Stiles said. "You've never had to say anything to mean it, because your actions have always spoken louder than words!"
"My actions?" Scott asked like he was genuinely confused.
"Your inactions!" Stiles said, near tears at the idea that Scott wasn't getting it. They were stinging his eyes, his hand falling to the countertop to steady himself. "Where the fuck were you this last year, man?" he whispered.
"Things just got crazy," Scott answered quietly, rubbing the back of his head as he looked away.
"Yeah? Well, things got crazy for me, too." Stiles sniffled, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't expected so much emotion to come flowing out. He'd thought he had it under control, could keep it inside until he got into the shower.
"I want a baby sister just like Max!" Tessa announced with excitement as she, Allison, and Derek ambled through the door. "Please, Mommy?"
Scott stiffened, Allison forcing a smile at the realization that she and Derek had just walked into a sensitive conversation. Stiles looked away and wiped his tears, excusing himself to as not to be rude. He had the sense that Allison would ask what had happened and that Scott would probably lie. By omission. That seemed to be his specialty lately. He tried to let it all go as he let the heat of the shower hit his back, and though most of it melted away, down into the drain, a small, small piece lingered, lodging itself right in his heart.
x
"You're seriously still irritated about my comment earlier?" Stiles asked Scott hours later, neon fireworks filling the sky over the Atlantic behind them. Guests had arrived at the McCall house for their annual 4th of July party, hot dogs and hamburgers having just been served and devoured. Every house on the entirety of Dune Road had people covering the decks and beach, all eyes searching skyward. The smell of fireworks filled the air, the rolling ocean waves providing the perfect background music to a beautiful night.
"You basically told me that I'm not parenting my child correctly," Scott stated defensively.
"After you told me that my husband wasn't parenting my child correctly. So…"
"So, it was rude. And I'm not happy about it." Scott turned away from Stiles, a plate of garbage from cleaning the barbecue in his hands. He walked to the other end of the deck to toss it, Stiles striding over to continue the conversation.
"Well, I'm not happy about the comment you made regarding how I handle Isaac's anxiety, either. You know, when you told me I was babying him?" He shifted his neck for effect, narrowing his eyes in the pale lighting.
"Let's just be even then." Scott shrugged, wiping his hands on his shorts.
"No," Stiles argued, shaking his head in complete disbelief. "It doesn't…Jesus, I don't know what New York has done to you, dude, but life doesn't work like that. You can't just make a comment of that magnitude, get annoyed when it gets dished right back, and then try to avoid feeling guilty of being an ass by trying to push the blame off of yourself."
"I'm the one that's the asshole here?" Scott asked.
Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced on his heels to keep his ADHD from letting him run his mouth from making this situation worse, because his head was spinning, trying to comprehend how Scott couldn't understand something so obvious, so vital to the success of their friendship. "Uh, yeah, Scotty. You kind of are."
"Then you're one too for throwing it back at me!"
Frustration, Stiles decided, was more than a feeling. It was a state of being, and he was going to lay down the law, Sherriff-style. "Ever since I brought my family here, you've-"
"Daddy." Isaac coughed, his hand grabbing for the side of Stiles' shorts.
"Go ask Papa, baby," he said, wanting to finish with Scott.
"But Balto needs his 'haler," he whined, drawing in a tight, wheezy breath. Stiles' attention shifted suddenly to Isaac's rattled breathing, face growing worried. He kneeled down and listened close to his son's not-so-clear lungs before pulling him into his arms and feeling his forehead. Warm. His heart sunk.
"You're warm, bud. You having trouble breathing?" His eyes were studying Isaac in the poor lighting, checking for any signs of hives around his mouth. Thankfully, there were none.
Isaac just nestled into father's chest and nodded with a congested cough.
"Stiles?" Scott asked, and in the moment Stiles couldn't tell if his friend was annoyed or concerned, didn't really care, because his kid needed him, was wheezing with lungs that sounded like they were near-drowning in fluid, and fuck all if he was going to let anything stop him from preventing another hospital stay.
