They went to the hospital even before Aurora did, it was ridiculous trying to wait when his mind was already there. The cafeteria coffee was better than he expected, at least by his standards, Peter preferred tea. Luckily, in the hospital a person full of anxiety went something unnoticed between patients waiting for operations and relatives waiting for news.
When it was time, Peter and Stiles approached the admission area. It wasn't exactly time, there was still twenty minutes to go, but they still waited there. Aurora arrived on time with her mother. Stiles found it strange not to see her father as well, but from what she had told him when they spoke, her relationship with her parents had become strained after the news of the pregnancy.
"Stiles..." Aurora whispered in a brittle voice.
Stiles smiled tightly. He was uncomfortable, he wanted to give her a hug to try to comfort her because she seemed really scared, but the way her mother was looking at him, that would not be appreciated. She was just as he had imagined her, a lady with the typical short older woman hairstyle, a brown skirt suit, a pearl necklace, and various discreet gold jewelries. She reminded him a lot of Margaret Thatcher. She was looking at him with a stern expression that would make braver men shake, but now Stiles was more focused on the round belly where his son was hiding.
"H-how are you? Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.
"It won't be necessary," her mother replied. "I'll be with her."
She grabbed her by both shoulders and walked with her as if Aurora were nothing more than a mannequin. Aurora lowered her head and said nothing. It was clear that the situation was not good and, at any other time, Stiles would have intruded, but not this time. What was at stake was too important.
"I'll be around," he told them as a nurse escorted them to her room.
Peter put an arm around his waist and Stiles leaned against him. They followed them discreetly until they saw which room they were entering. They waited a few feet behind until they took her in bed to the operating room and then went to the nearest waiting room. Her mother had gone in with her, so they were alone in the waiting room. Stiles kept checking his cell phone clock every minute, he was running out of battery. Peter's hand was steady on the back of his neck, and it kept him from going crazy.
"A C-section without problems takes thirty to forty minutes," he murmured when she had been in the operating room for twenty-nine minutes. Peter kissed him on the temple and Stiles sighed. "Can you hear anything?"
"It won't be long, sweetheart."
Stiles took Peter's free hand in his and began to trace each phalanx and knuckle and each line of his palm. It must have been a nuisance, but Peter allowed it anyway.
Suddenly, he heard a cry and jumped out of the chair as if he had been electrocuted.
"It's... it's..."
Peter grabbed him around the waist to keep him from running into the operating room.
"He's okay, they're going to clean him up."
Stiles stared toward the OR door for a moment until the crying stopped. He sighed and his legs shook. They were about to fail him, but Peter held him up and sat him on one of the plastic chairs.
"I'm a dad." He looked at Peter with a stunned expression. Now it was real.
"Congratulations, sweetheart," he said with a smile.
Peter gave him a soft kiss, and Stiles hugged him, feeling all the tension of those days (months) leave his body.
"They're taking him to the nursery."
"Shall we go?" he asked Peter because at that moment his yearning to see his son was too strong, and he wasn't sure if what he wanted to do was right or wrong.
"Let's go," he agreed.
They went to the nursery and saw a nurse who had gone into the operating room place a baby in the crib. Stiles approached the glass slowly, Peter only half a step behind him. He made sure first by looking at the card on the front of the crib with Aurora's name on it and gave a pitiful whine as his attention turned to the baby. He was just perfect, with his five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot, his plump arms and body, his rosy skin, his black hair, his upturned nose, and bright blue eyes. He had inherited his mother's eyes, but Stiles didn't care. Even if the baby didn't look anything like him, Stiles would adore him anyway. He had only just met him, but he was already (even before) the most important thing in his life.
"H-how is he? Did everything go well?" he asked when he saw the nurse leave.
The woman, Leslie, according to her badge, looked at him suspiciously, she seemed about to call security.
"I'm sorry, I can't..."
"Um, I'm... I'm his dad. Aurora and I aren't... but I am the father."
The nurse's face softened a bit.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't tell you anything without the mother's explicit permission. She should be in the room by now, but give her a few minutes to recover from the anesthesia, and we'll go ask her, okay?"
Stiles nodded a little disappointed, but he understood, it was for the safety of the babies (he had come across too many articles about kidnapped babies in hospitals). Leslie left, and they just stood there, watching the baby for a while longer.
"He has your eyes," he told Peter, who was hugging him from behind with his chin resting on his shoulder.
"I don't think that's possible," he replied with a soft laugh.
"I'll suppose it is. Magic exists after all, why not?"
"Mm... You're right, why not?" He nuzzled his neck and Stiles sighed.
A few minutes later they went to Aurora's room and Leslie saw them from another room's door. She approached them with a smile and knocked on the door.
"Come in," her mother answered.
When she saw him enter after the nurse, she scowled at him while Aurora stared out the window across the room as if she was still drugged from anesthesia.
"What do you want?" asked the mother in an annoyed voice.
"I want to be able to hold my son and to know how he is. "I need Aurora's permission," he answered firmly without being intimidated by that woman. He had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out an awful lot.
At the mention of her name, Aurora seemed to react a bit.
"Do you want me to bring you the baby?" the nurse asked her sweetly. Aurora shook her head, her expression almost terrified. "Okay, don't worry, honey. I need you to tell me if..." Leslie looked at him.
"Stiles, my name is Stiles."
"If Stiles has permission to see the baby."
Aurora glanced at him briefly and turned her head away from him again, but she nodded.
"Very well. If you need anything, if you change your mind about seeing the baby, let me know."
Leslie turned around and urged him out of the room with her. As long as he could see his son, the rest didn't matter.
"Can I... can I be with him now?" he asked the nurse.
"Come with me, I'll take you to an empty room so you can spend some time with him."
"Thank you!"
He went to follow the nurse, but Peter stopped him for a moment.
"I'll see you right away," he whispered and had that glint in his gaze, the expression of a predator about to go after his prey.
Stiles nodded and gave him a quick kiss before following the nurse. Peter went back into the room and didn't even look at the mother, she wasn't his target.
"What do-?"
"You have to sign this." He took a piece of paper out of his jacket and held it in front of the girl's face.
"Leave her alone! I'll call security!" the mother threatened.
Peter looked at her and for a moment she looked scared. It was no wonder, he could look like a mobster when he wanted to be, it was a Hale trait.
"You want to get rid of the child, this is the fastest way. She'll cede all parental rights to Stiles, and you'll never hear from us again."
The woman looked at him with a frown, she seemed to want to fight back, but she chose what benefited her the most. She raised her head proudly and opened her purse.
"Sign," she ordered her daughter, handing her a pen.
Aurora shrugged her head between her shoulders as if she was trying to make herself smaller. She took her mother's pen and the paper and signed it without even reading it. Peter took the paper from her as soon as she signed and tore off the bottom copy of the three there were.
"This is for you."
He put it on the bed and left the room.
Stiles sat in a comfortable chair with a soft cloth seat in an empty room and waited for the nurse to return. He couldn't sit still, his leg bounced and his fingers tapped on the wooden armrests. He was about to meet his son.
The door opened, and he almost jumped out of the chair. Leslie came in smiling, pushing the baby's crib.
"Here I bring you your little one," she told him, taking the baby out of the crib. "Do you know how to hold him?"
"Ah- um... Y-yes?"
He answered more like a question, but for the first time his arms did not flail uncontrollably. As soon as she brought the baby to him, he placed his arms as he should and held him correctly. It was more by instinct than for anything he had practiced with dolls because at that moment his mind was blank. When the little bundle was in his arms, everything else faded and he felt an incredible calm. The baby was completely wrapped in a white blanket and seemed half asleep, but his eyes widened and looked directly at him, big and bright.
"He doesn't have a name yet, you should think of one," Leslie told him, although he was barely aware of it.
The nurse left, and Stiles stayed there with his baby. His baby. The little one fell asleep right away, making adorable little noises. Peter arrived shortly after and sat silently next to him in another chair.
"Peter Hale, this is Wilkomir Stilinski, or just Wilk." Peter looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What? At least all the letters are in our alphabet."
"I'm more concerned that it's a name related to wolves."
Stiles looked at him in surprise.
"Do you know Polish?"
"I'm learning," he said with a smile. "Welcome to the pack, Wilkomir." He ran a hand gently over his head. "May l...?"
"Go ahead, let the wolf loose."
Peter leaned over the little boy and took a deep breath. He ran his nose down his cheek and his forehead, scent marking him, and kissed his black hair. He sat up and gave Stiles a kiss.
"He's adorable," he whispered reverently.
"He's so young, he mostly just looks like a potato with eyes."
"That's your newborn you're talking about," Peter said, though he couldn't help but laugh.
Stiles shrugged as much as he could without disturbing the baby.
"I really love him, but all babies are like that, nothing new there."
Peter snorted a laugh and gave him another kiss.
"She has signed," he told him.
Stiles took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Wilk stirred a bit in his sleep, but quickly calmed down.
"So... she can't back out?"
"She can back out, but if she did it'd be a lot easier to get shared custody, and she couldn't stop you from seeing him until the trial."
Stiles sighed in relief and rested his head on Peter's shoulder.
"Thank you."
The nurse came back some time later, he wasn't sure how long it had been. Wilk had already woken up and seemed to be getting a little restless.
"I've brought you a bottle to feed him, if that's okay with you."
"Yeah, yeah, sure." He accepted the bottle and Wilk clung greedily to the nipple. "When can I take it back?"
Leslie looked surprised.
"The mother has given up parental rights, it was already agreed. It was either that or put him up for adoption. I've already submitted the necessary papers," Peter explained.
"I understand," she nodded with a sigh and a sad smile. "You can take him whenever you want, he's perfectly healthy."
Stiles looked at Peter and he nodded.
"I'll go get the stroller, I'll be right back." He kissed them both and left the room.
"For the name..." Stiles said to Leslie.
"Sure, have you decided yet?" she asked with more enthusiasm.
"Wilkomir, Wilkomir Stilinski. It's a Polish name, my family's from there," he explained at her confused face.
"Oh well, you'll have to spell it for me, so I don't make a mistake," she asked, pulling out a thin sticky note pad and a pen.
It didn't take long for Peter to return, the hotel was quite close to the hospital. They dressed Wilk in a green onesie with a tortoise design, wrapped him in his own blanket, and placed him in the stroller they had brought from Beacon Hills. They got the go-ahead from the doctor, said goodbye to Leslie, and left the hospital. Peter opened an umbrella over both of them even though it was only occasionally drizzling today. The stroller had a plastic hood to protect Wilk.
They were prepared to spend two weeks at the hotel. Technically the baby could fly from day one, but many recommended waiting those two weeks or even a month. They weren't going to spend a month in Minnesota.
Stiles was ready for everything, even the catastrophic. Sleepless nights weren't his biggest problem as it was for most parents. He was used to spending sleepless nights with his research, and besides, Peter got up most of the time before he even started crying. To make up for it, Stiles took care of the diapers, Peter did have a hard time with their smell. Without having to worry about other responsibilities, this was his life with a baby. Feed him, change his diapers, put him to sleep, take him out for a walk and play with him. It seemed easy, and at first he thought he would be bored, but with a newborn the spacing between feedings and sleep cycles were very short so they hardly had time to get bored.
He was not prepared for what happened on the tenth day.