Nothing ever goes as expected.

Erica had expected, after the garden party, that Hale would simply arrive at their townhouse and stay – just like had had previously. That hadn't happened.

She had expected that Stiles would stop spending his nights with her. He hadn't.

She had thought finding a tutor whom she actually wanted to bed would be easy. It wasn't.

And her pregnancy was a damn nightmare.

"I hate my body." She whined, sitting at her brothers table. The London townhouse had been shut up, and they were sitting in the garden of the Lahey estate, a massive, Ducal mansion with more rooms than anyone could ever require. Stiles had gone to Scotland to give a lecture at Edinburgh University after making quite a splash in London and, although she had been excited to see the city, Erica had been left behind because her life (obviously) was a nightmare she could not waken from. That, of course, and the fact that her pregnancy left her weak and unable to walk more than a few yards. She didn't even want to think about what had happened to her ankles.

"I know." Isaac agreed, handing her a delicate cup of china filled with warm tea. It couldn't be hot (the way she liked it, scalding her lips) because that would make her sweat, and she'd had to forgo the slice of lemon because the smell of citrus made her violently ill. "But think of this – you could be sitting in some horrid little Scottish hotel, eating terrible food and suffering the stench of those streets." He smiled at her softly. "But you get to be here, pampered and coddled, with your every whim quickly granted."

"I hate my body." She repeated. "I miss my husband, and I don't understand why things aren't just… working out like they ought to!"

"I've lost you, I'm afraid." Her brother admitted. "What isn't working out?"

Isaac, she knew, was almost fully recovered from his drinking binge, although he was still avoiding even the weakest wines and hadn't touched a drop of anything stronger than lemonade at dinner for months. His eyes, which had been dangerously tinged with yellow were returned to their clean, brightness – and his temper had evened out enough that she no longer felt like she had to walk on eggshells around him. He had days where he would not leave his room, but they were few and far between – and were often cut short by the actions of his Valet, who had (she had tried not to laugh) lifted him bodily from the bed where he was languishing and forced him to dress.

"I thought Hale would be around," She admitted. "I thought he would be spending time with Stiles, and he's not." She waved a hand over her massive stomach. "I thought I would be a perfect host for a child, and I've had nothing but trouble since I started to grow. I've still not found a suitable 'tutor' and I've been looking for months – and everything is..." her voice trailed off, the words just not sounding right to her ears. "I don't know." She finished lamely.

Her brother leaned forward and held her hand, kicking his feet up onto the table in a way that would have had their father beating him from one side of the house to another – she certainly had no love for the previous Duke, mean bastard – and leaned into her side.

"Hale is fighting the fact that he is desperately in love with Stiles." He pointed out. She didn't bother to say anything – she already knew the Duke was mad on him. "It is often too much to deal with. He's in love with a person of the wrong gender and he can't quite grasp why it feels right. That, and he is currently being chased by every single female in England, trying to get her hands on the title of 'Duchess Hale'."

That was true enough, Erica knew. He'd been mobbed – not quite expecting the rush, she expected – of so many young ladies in their first season, brash widows and armies of mammas whom all believed that their daughter was Duchess material.

Erica didn't even need to point out that the only lady whom he had even mildly expressed an interest was Miss Charity Harvington, a mousy, unassuming girl with no fortune and (at almost 27 years old) no prospects. Her name was good enough, and her family respectable, but the girl was… forgetful. No one ever remembered her at a Ball, she faded into the background and was (apparently) happy to do so.

"Do you think he'll offer for the Harvington girl?"

"Oh, I'll wager a pony on it." Her brother nodded. "She's perfectly amiable to spend her days in the country, as long as she has her little comforts." He paused and arched a perfect eyebrow at her. "Her books, her embroidery, and her ladies maid. I doubt she'll be taxing."

Stiles decided that although the university was bursting with excellent minds and surrounded him with like-minded people, he didn't like the city. It was crowded, smelly and badly designed – although they were currently building more modern buildings that reminded him of London. He missed his home, his butterflies, his friends – and his wife, which he wasn't expecting.

He'd expected that she wouldn't be able to make the trip, her pregnancy was advancing and she was extremely uncomfortable, but he had been disappointed all the same. He'd gotten used to her just always being there – and sleeping alone was something he'd come to dislike.

It had, though, given him a lot of time to think. Erica was unhappy. She had told him about her brothers idea to hire a tutor – he approved of the idea, but not of the profession – it had seemed sordid and below her. He had been keeping his word though, and made a valiant attempt to interview as many handsome young men as he could. She'd refused them all.

His hotel was nice enough, and he sat in the private rooms that he had rented and looked over his notes. There was the noise of carriages outside, the general ruckus of day-to-day life in the city, and the obvious sounds of a new guest arriving. He'd planned to stay a few days longer, but in all honesty he was itching to return. There was nothing keeping him here. The light knock on his door made him look up, and the door was opened by a slight girl – some serving lass who had been assigned to his comfort.

"A Duke Hale, mi'lord." She half whispered.

Stiles head snapped up as Derek walked into the room behind the girl, hat in his hands and already pulling off his gloves.

"Hale!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet after the first instance of shock left him. "Bloody hell, what brings you up here?"

Sex was out. Pretty much anything that Stiles had wanted to do was out of the question in a public hotel where one could never quite be sure of what could be overheard. Derek knew that, and knew it was the reason that the younger man was keeping up a flow of constant but interesting chatter about his work. Derek could see it in his eyes, the sweep of his gaze over his skin, or the way he would half forget himself and lean over for a touch before aborting the movement half way through.

God, Derek had never wanted anyone as badly as he did this boy. He'd managed to convince himself that he was in the cramped, ugly city for good enough reasons, although as he sat across from the pale face and golden eyes – he knew he'd been a bloody fool for thinking he had any other intention. He missed Stiles, and he wanted to see him.

Had to tell him.

Stiles though, talked like his life depended on it. Derek had a rough idea that Stiles might already know why Derek was there and was trying to delay the news.

"I offered for Charity Harvington." He cut over Stiles rambling.

"Congratulations." Stiles responded, although Derek could see that he was not genuine in that. "I assume the match was met with approval from her family?"

"We are to be married in a month." Derek nodded. "They have very little, this match is a wonderful advancement for them."

"Have you told Scott?"

"No." Derek shrugged. "You are the only one who knows, aside from her father – of course."

"Of course." Stiles nodded. Derek noted he looked… despondent.

"She has already expressed a wish to remain in the country – she has no love for London and it's delights." No response to that, Stiles just nodded. "She will keep her ladies companion." Derek pushed, wondering if Stiles would understand what he was trying to say without using the words.

"Probably for the best." Stiles nodded, although his words seemed distant. "If she is to remain at the estate year-round she would require companionship."

"They are very close." Derek agreed. He waited a few seconds for this to register in Stiles mind.

"Ah." The young Baron said. Then again, after a moment. "Oh. I see."

"Good." Derek nodded. "Oh, that reminds me. You asked if I knew of any valets?"

"I recall." Stiles replied, but he was now smiling, and his manner was much more relaxed. Derek knew that if they were alone – really alone, without the danger of some serving girl opening the door – he'd be more than happy to touch and be touched. "I don't think it really matters though." He shrugged, eyes almost glowing. God, Derek just wanted to reach over the space and… his mind blanked. He just wanted to touch him, really. Nothing even remotely sexual, just the freedom to touch him. He blinked. "Well… I found one." He managed to say, voice even and hopefully not betraying the sudden panic that the knowledge that he wanted… more. More than just sex that ripped his damn soul out of his body. "About the same age as Matthew – I think." He added.

"I'm managing quite well without a Valet, Derek." Stiles grinned, waving a hand over his clothes, which were – Derek had to admit – well looked after and neat.

"He's the grandson of my old housekeeper." Derek supplied uselessly, unsure as to why he even brought it up. Peter had done nothing but sing Stiles praises – he doubted very much that he would look fondly on Stiles getting a valet of his own if they were to somehow live together. He had enjoyed his time at the Barons – enjoyed bossing the both of them around as they dressed.

"Well, of course I'll hire him." Stiles shrugged. "Though I only do it because you seem to think I need to."

Isaac was in bed, simply refusing to move. He'd spent the night in his sisters room, sitting by her side and reading to her. As soon as Stiles returned the better – he was exhausted. She was having trouble sleeping (doubtless something to do with the extra weight she was carrying around) and was making him suffer for it by asking him to read to her like he had done when she was a child.

"Do you plan on laying here all day?" Matthew said, opening the heavy drapes and ignoring his protests of 'too bright' as he walked about the room. "I knew I should never have let you undress." He sniped, as he picked up the jacket from the back of the chair where Isaac had thrown it. "This will take a year to press."

"Matthew, please – go away." He moaned, rolling onto his side and pulling the covers over his head. "My damn sister had me reading her Byron till dawn."

"It's already after 3." Matthew continued, heedless of Isaac's pain. " Time to get up."

Isaac curled into a ball and refused to move. Damnit, he was a Duke, and he wasn't going to let some snotty overbearing servant boss him around. "You are fired." He snapped. "Bugger off."

"You've already tried to fire me this week." Matthew responded, still moving about the room. Isaac could hear him even if he couldn't see him. "But if you are dead set on it – my father arrived this morning, will I send him up instead?"

"Why is your father here?" Isaac said, sitting up. That made no sense to him at all. "Are you inviting your damn relatives?"

"I assume he's here before the Duke arrives." Matthew shrugged. "He's Hales man."

Isaac had forgotten that. "Did he say why Hale was visiting? And why I've heard nothing about it?" He didn't mind guests, but he did like to know about their arrival.

"He's returning with Stiles." Matthew shrugged. "I think the hazel britches with the green coat would be ideal for today." He said, walking around the room, picking up the discarded clothing that Isaac had thrown about the room as he'd climbed into bed. "Simple but defined. I'll tell father to come up directly and prepare you."

"Why the hell would I need Hale's man?"

"You just fired me."

"Shut up." Isaac laughed, throwing a pillow at his Valet. "You are insufferable."

"Oh, no. I'm off now, that's it." Matthew laughed, dodging the flying sack of feathers. "I demand my full months' pay and your indigo jacket as payment for services served."

It wasn't until he was dressed and Matthew was handing him the long strip of cloth for his cravat that he turned to the man. "You aren't leaving though, are you?"

Matthew shrugged. "No. I doubt anyone would pay me half so well." His eyes sparkled though. "And I'm not sure your indigo jacket would fit me."

Derek Hale, 3rd Duke of that name, married Miss Charity Harvington, Daughter of Earl Harvington. The event was well attended by both families, including his heir – Lord McCall and Wife. The absence of the head of the Argent family was noted by all – and was missed by none. Baron Stiles attended, Wife in too delicate a condition to travel.

Derek wasn't sure why he'd brought Charity with him, but it seemed slightly unfair to marry her and then – a few weeks after – leave her in a house she knew nothing about. He should have perhaps waited a little longer, but it had been weeks since he'd seen Stiles, and he was done refusing himself.

His new wife seemed quite happy to be dragged half way over England in terrible weather as long as she was warm in the carriage, and had a book or her sewing to keep her occupied. Her ladies maid travelled with them, mostly so Derek wouldn't be required to make conversation, but they both remained silent as they sat, side by side – fingers deftly sewing away.

He missed Erica, he was surprised to find. He envied Stiles in his marriage, which was a friendship first and foremost. These long silences were… dull. He wondered when he stopped finding silence comforting and started to crave a steady conversation. Probably around the same time he had met Stiles.

They arrived at Duke Laheys country estate after dark, but they were expected. Erica, on her feet already – was standing at the door – waving at them as they approached, but all Derek could see was Stiles.

He was out of the carriage and crunching over gravel before the horses had stopped moving.

"Good Lord, woman, are you on your feet already?" He called out as he walked towards them.

"I'll have you know, I was on my feet before Stiles." She shot back. Derek barked a laugh as Stiles shrugged.

"I slipped and knocked my head."

"He passed out as soon as I started screaming." Erica cut over his excuses, then gave a rather pointed look behind him before reaching out her hands to Charity. He shot Stiles a quick glance, but he was all smiles and welcoming words. "Oh, you must be done in!" Erica coo'd. "My brother would have come down to great you, but we have yet to work out how to remove him from the nursery."

"Allow my congratulations." Charity half whispered.

"Oh, goodness!" Erica exclaimed, "How quiet you are. Well, you must allow me to show you to your rooms, and get you nice and settled in, we've got a lovely light meal for you once you are ready, of course."

Stiles wasted no time in taking Derek directly to the nursery. He hadn't expected anything different, and simply revelled in the closeness of his body as they walked.

Isaac, looking nothing at all like a Duke who was 14th in line for the throne, was sitting cross legged on the floor as a fat, jolly looking woman watched from an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. In his arms was a baby so small Derek could hardly believe that it was real. He had not spent much time in the presence of infants.

"This is Melissa." Stiles said, touching Isaac on the shoulder. "Jonathan is asleep – we wanted to bring them down to great you, but the weather is so bad…"

"Don't be an idiot." Derek said, looking down at the sleeping child in the cot. So small, tiny – baby Jonathan slept in the centre of the massive cot and was so still Derek couldn't even tell if he was breathing or not. "I still can't believe that she had twins."

"You can me both. She was so huge, though – and John was so small when he was born. Then out she came and… well… twins."

"Well done."

"Thank you." Stiles grinned, so wide that it nearly split his head in half. "We were hoping to travel up to my estate, but with Erica birthing early, and the weather…"

"You aren't taking them anywhere." Isaac cut over. Derek saw Stiles roll his eyes and smiled. It looked like Isaac was taking his duties as Godfather seriously. Derek foresaw some seriously spoiled little children in the future, Isaac was terrible at limiting himself – Derek doubted if he would be any good at refusing his niece and nephew.

The fat nurse gave a little huff of air and got up from her seat. "Come on now, duck, you give her up and get yourself down for some vitals." She coo'd neatly scooping Melissa from her uncles arms. "Shoo!" She waved, when they didn't immediately vacate the room.

"Nurse looked after Erica and I when we were children." Isaac said, once they were in the hallway. Derek had thought as much, going by her obvious comfort in her situation. "Erica wouldn't except anyone else, luckily, Nurse was always bad at denying me – she came right back when I asked." He beamed.

Erica watched as Charity sat and carefully ate her dinner as the gentlemen laughed and talked over their supposed victories and Stiles and Isaac congratulated themselves over her hard work – namely giving birth to twins. Charity Hale was… well… she was quiet. Unassuming. If Erica was being brutally honest, what Charity Hale was – was Dull.

Colourless, drab and forgetful – even of her new (and it was obviously new, because she was wearing the new fashion for short sleeves) dresses were stunning in colour and cut just right for a woman of her figure – she was unexceptional and… well, not about to get into a heated discussion about anything, ever. What a strain to keep the flow of conversation going around with such a dull little sparrow in a room of peacocks.

Isaac, for the first time in his life, was managing to remember that they were not in their usual party of four and was keeping the conversation more or less suitable for general consumption. Erica was struggling to do the same, and found herself worrying that the sleeping babe upstairs might grow into something as mousy and silent as this. Then she recalled that in order for that to happen, Melissa would have to lose her mother, her father and her rather flamboyant uncle in order for such a travesty to occur and her fears were soothed.

"How's your new Valet settling in?" Derek asked Stiles, as Erica took a sip of her wine. Isaac was still drinking only water – it seemed unlikely that he would sink back into his drunken depression again – and winked at her over the edge of his glass.

Yes, Colin O'Shale was settling in just fine. Not exactly handsome in the fashionable way, but his deep green eyes, ridiculously attractive Irish lilt and that brown curl that would always fall over his eyes had ensured that Stiles kept him employed.

"Oh," Stiles nodded, not quite looking over at Charity, but aware of her presence. "He's been a godsend." He looked over at Erica who nodded in agreement. "No idea what I'd do without him now."

Colin O'Shale, Derek decided, was the worst idea he'd ever had in the entirety of his life. He was standing in the corridor talking to Peter and Matthew as Derek walked past, his accent perfect and his looks… well… not exactly handsome, but there was something there that was attractive.

Damn, why the hell had he not taken a look at the man before he'd suggested Stiles take him on? Not, of course, that he was in anyway jealous, but… damn. He should have met the man before he'd suggested anything. Idiot.

He wasn't sharing a room with Charity, which he felt slightly guilty about being relieved about. Her room was across the hall, and he knew that she would never even think of walking across the hall in the night.

But now his thoughts were conflicted. Stiles and Erica had a suite of rooms here, down the corridor – and what if Stiles had been sleeping with his Valet?

The thought of that caused him actual pain. The idea that Stiles had slept (more than once) with Erica was something that he didn't think too much about – after all, they were married – but the idea that Stiles had slept with another man… that was entirely different. And shockingly painful.

Stiles kissed his wife on the lips and curled closer to her on the bed. She was already under the covers and half asleep, and he couldn't help but brush a few stray curls off her forehead. She'd returned from nursing the babies and had crawled into bed almost as soon as returning – not mentioning his lack of undress or obvious signs of not spending the night.

"Goodnight, my love." He said, and her sleepy half smile was enough of a reply. He rolled off the top of the bed and was half way across the floor when she turned.

"Tell Derek I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to him today."

"I will."

"Love you."

"Love you too." He paused, hand on the door. "Do you want me to come back before you wake up?"

"God no." She mumbled, curling deeper into the blankets. "You go have desperate and sinful sex and leave me alone."

He grinned and let her sleep.

"Is Isaac sleeping with his Valet?" Derek asked, pulling off his boots. He had wanted to ask if Stiles was sleeping with his valet, but wasn't sure if he was in a position to demand answers – after-all, they were both married. To women.

"Matthew?" Stiles questioned, before looking up at the roof. "God, I hope so."

"You don't know?"

"I don't think so. I hope they are, because I'd like to think that he had someone – but I think it hasn't gone past the insulting each other stage." Stiles shrugged. "Do you think Peter would object?"

"No." Derek said, after thinking it over. "Peter doesn't care about things like that, as you well know."

"Different when it is your son, I think." Stiles pointed out. Derek wondered if Stiles felt differently about subjects now he had children of his own.

"Perhaps."

"Are you trying to…" Stiles waved a hand in the direction of the door and - Derek assumed – the room across the hall, "carry on the family line?"

"Ah… yes." Derek admitted, not sure why he felt uneasy about talking about this with a man he planned on doing some seriously obscene things to as soon as possible.

"It's worth it." Stiles suddenly said. "I know it might feel a bit… off… and I know you don't love her – but its worth it when you hold your child in your arms."

"You seem happy."

"I am." Stiles grinned. "And Erica too – God, you should have seen her face when she met Colin." Stiles stopped pulling at his cravat and laughed. "I think she was inches away from writing you a very thankful letter about your taste in men – which she shares."

"Colin?"

"The valet you made me hire?" Stiles looked at him, and Derek blinked. "I thought you suggested I take him on for Erica's sake."

"Erica is sleeping with your Valet?"

"Well… no." Stiles shrugged. "Right now she'd mule kick you across the damn room for even mentioning sex." He grinned, looking happier than Derek could remember, and stepped into the space between his legs. "I know though," He carried on, pulling at Derek's shirt with sure hands. "That they have been in some rather… interesting situations." Derek sucked in a breath as Stiles hands slipped under the cotton his shirt and splayed across his ribs. "Because her questions have gone from general to very, very specific." His mouth was only inches away from Derek's, and not for all the money in the world could Derek have pulled back.

"I missed you." He admitted, feeling stupid for even saying the words. They'd only been apart a month.

"I think you should show me just how much." Stiles breathed back.

He did.

Well, this is winding down now. One more chapter for my nice big Sterek Happy Ending ™ and I'll move on to something new. After going through the comments and Private Messages that people have sent me…

I'm going to to a TW/SPN crossover.

I think.