I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle ~ Vincent Van Gogh
Years of dealing with the supernatural in Beacon Hills prior to leaving after high school attuned Stiles to a chaotic and often interrupted sleep schedule. His ADHD further prepared him for it, as did eight years of college and medical school. The way he adapted quickly to the rotation schedules in his residency makes his fellow residents grumble, but he doesn't mind.
Still, night rotations trip even him up, so coming off a particularly stressful shift in the NICCU, he is grateful to make it home finally and even more appreciative that his apartment is near the hospital. The best part of having a studio apartment is that he can just toss his keys on the breakfast bar, drop his backpack onto one of the stools, and collapse directly onto his bed. He showered at the hospital, so he's clean at least, and he toes off his sneakers before kicking them off the bed. They hit the floor with dull thumps, and he's snoring before he's even fully asleep.
Later, he can only blame a strenuous twelve hours on the night NICCU shift for the fact that he doesn't register crying in the same damn room he's sleeping in. At least, he doesn't pay attention to it until someone's beating on his door.
"Dammit, Stiles! These places are too small to be babysitting someone's wailing brat in here. Shut the kid up!"
"I'm not babysitting," Stiles yells back. "What the hell are you on, Jeremy?" His immediate next door neighbor is a jackass on the best of days, but Stiles's sleep-deprived brain can't figure out why the guy would think Stiles is the one with a crying baby.
"Well, it ain't coming from Moira's place, so it's gotta be yours." There's a rattle and a thunk, and Stiles rolls in alarm as Jeremy kicks the door a few times for good measure after discovering it's locked. "That sure as hell is a kid screaming its head off."
Stiles finally registers the wailing isn't a lingering nightmare from spending hours with premature babies, and when he looks toward the sound, there's a pack-and-play set up next to his breakfast bar. The baby inside is sobbing, clinging to the side to keep its wobbly balance. His mind goes immediately to assessing the baby's age, maybe nine months old based on size and being on its feet, and instinct has him rolling to his feet and going to lift the distraught child into his arms and smoothing the wild black curls gracing the baby's scalp.
"I've got it handled," Stiles growls at his unwanted adult visitor, who suggests something anatomically impossible before one last fist pound on the door. The baby gives a startled higher pitched wail, but settles down when Stiles starts rubbing its back soothingly. "Hey, now, let's figure out how you got here."
He figures most people who wake up to a strange infant in their apartment would immediately panic and call the police, but one thing that surviving Beacon Hills taught him is that if something this weird is occurring, check for supernatural reasons first. The fact that his door is locked, dead bolted, and still has the security latch in place makes it even more of a possibility, and he nervously checks all his windows as well. Being on the third floor is only a deterrent to human burglars, and not all of them.
Security check done, he realizes that the main reason the kid is so upset is easily determined just based on the smell. To his immense relief, there's a diaper bag sitting next to a car seat beside the pack-and-play. He snags the shoulder strap and drops it onto his bed, rummaging one-handed until he produces the changing pad, a diaper, and a pack of wipes. The baby starts to tear up when he lays it down, but he spots a toy frog clipped to the outside of the diaper bag and drags it over, making it squeak.
"Well, at least I can stop thinking of you as an it," Stiles says, carefully cleaning away the smelly mess. "I'm hoping there's something in this bag with your name on it, but until then, how about I just call you princess for now?"
She babbles at him, grumbling only when he finishes the diaper change and uses a clean baby wipe to clean the tears and snot from her face. There's formula in the bag, so Stiles settles her in the crook of his arm and takes the bottle and can into his small kitchen. It'd be easier to make the bottle without holding the baby, but he doesn't want to risk making her cry. She goes after the bottle with enthusiasm, old enough to take it from him as she sucks down the liquid.
"Princess, I hope you eat like that normally and haven't missed any feedings," he says, grinning tiredly at the hungry baby and fumbling to find his phone to check the time. It looks like he got six hours of sleep, at least, which is better than he expected given how tired he felt when he got home. "And I'm glad I don't have a shift tonight, because I don't think I can find a babysitter in time."
Moving to Los Angeles for his residency was a good choice, but it means he hasn't been part of a pack in a long time. The few friends he has in Los Angeles are all residents or nurses, and none of them are in the know about the supernatural. The baby might be perfectly human and just abandoned by someone who noticed he's a doctor and was careless with locking his door today, but that instinct that saved him and his friends so many times back in Beacon Hills is on high alert.
Once she's done with the bottle, he hopes it settles her enough for now, since the bag doesn't have any food other than the single can of formula. A baby her age would be eating small meals, too, but his kitchen is all but bare as he'd intended to grocery shop this afternoon. Luckily, she doesn't seem phased when he settles her back into the pack-and-play and offers her the stuffed octopus he finds in the playpen. Her tiny fingers guide one of the tentacles to her mouth, and she gnaws away happily, muttering a string of nonsense syllables.
He could still make the grocery run since he has a car seat here, but one benefit of living in a city like Los Angeles is multiple choices for grocery delivery, not just takeout. It takes checking two different delivery apps before the third has a slot open, and he quickly taps in an order for extra diapers, formula, and baby food before adding food for himself. Phone in hand, he paces and considers his other options before pocketing it to search the diaper bag.
Emptying the entire contents onto the bed, he is grateful he ordered extra supplies, since he might have lasted a day and certainly didn't have enough to let anyone else look after his little foundling. He does find something sewn inside the bag that twinges across the same sense that allows him to manipulate mountain ash. Tugging at the string to unravel the patch, he discovers a letter and retrieves it. The charm hiding the papers confirms his initial concern that the supernatural is at play.
Once he's read the letter and wonders when Braeden learned Polish, he goes to crouch next to the playpen. He's shocked he didn't make the connection sooner, but maybe he can blame exhaustion and not having seen the man in person for a decade. When the baby looks up at him, her hazel eyes have the same central heterochromia that gives Derek Hale his kaleidoscope eye color.
"Hello, Nadia." She alerts on the name, smiling widely and displaying four tiny teeth on top and two on bottom. "I don't think your mama is going to appreciate the phone call I'm about to make after she left you with me for safekeeping."
Braeden's letter is clear. Stiles has been away from pack life since he changed his career path from law enforcement to medicine midway through his undergraduate degree. He lives in a massive city that allows him to remain fairly anonymous, because local packs don't really care about a random doctor who happens to have a bit of magic at his disposal. He isn't defenseless, and he isn't exactly mundane, but he isn't on anyone's radar anymore.
Hopefully, he's not about to undo everything Braeden has done to protect her daughter.
Dialing a number he corresponds with more regularly than anyone else from Beacon Hills' hellmouth days, he makes faces at Nadia, who giggles and falls over. "Princess, you are so not a Hale with that laugh."
"I've been called a lot of things in my life, Stiles, but princess is a new one, and I am most certainly a Hale."
Stiles rolls his eyes at Peter's lazy drawl. "The Hale I'm referring to is a little over two feet tall and is trying to eat their own sock."
"Please tell me that my nephew hasn't gotten himself deaged again."
"No, but I think he's managed to add to the number of Hales in the world without knowing he did it."
"I'm intrigued. Do explain."
"I guess he and Braeden crossed paths about a year and a half ago. She never told Derek."
"Because an infant Hale born to a renowned assassin would be a target from multiple directions."
"Particularly from Malia's mother, who has taken up her old trade again, stock standard human or not."
Peter's cursing has always had a sort of elegance to it that Stiles envies, so Stiles listens and marvels at the variety until Peter runs out of steam. " Impressive fluency in seven languages there, Peter. Do you have any idea where Derek is? Last I heard from him was a cryptic postcard from a coastal town in Guam."
Once Beacon Hills settled down, everyone scattered, but the only Hale that returned when Scott finished veterinary school and reestablished a pack there was Malia. Derek originally returned to South America, where Cora was, but started traveling after a year, never staying in one place for more than six months. Stiles isn't sure if Derek is looking for something or running from something, and he's never asked. The postcards come regularly, with Derek always seeming to know when Stiles has moved, but never under either of the names they'd be known by in the supernatural world.
It's not like Peter has been a homebody himself, especially since he turns up like a bad penny at least once a year to check in person that Stiles is still alive and breathing. Stiles has no idea where Peter actually lives, but something tells him it's much closer than Derek, especially with Malia in Beacon Hills with Scott.
"I can get in contact with him, but it could take weeks. Can you look after your little princess until then?"
Stiles can claim a family emergency and gain an extra day or two off. His father is retired now, living in Florida with Natalie. His father and stepmother are probably the clearest ways someone with a grudge might find Stiles, but Stiles is going to count on Braeden's wily nature to keep the Desert Wolf focused elsewhere. She wouldn't have brought Nadia here otherwise. It still makes a good excuse if he needs to take off work. His residency program is tough, but it isn't heartless.
It isn't a long-term solution, though, so he needs to find a different angle that will endure for a while. After all, Derek may decide not to risk coming to Los Angeles if he thinks Nadia is better hidden here. "How hard would it be to fake a birth certificate for Nadia? If she's legally my child, I can enroll her in the childcare center at work."
"For Nadia? Easy as breathing. For whomever you designate as her mother, that's far more difficult if someone gets curious and wants to investigate." Peter hums thoughtfully. "I doubt they'd look right away, so that gives me time to lay the appropriate paper trail for your unfortunate baby mama. I'll arrange for the cub's paperwork to be delivered to an appropriate attorney's office in Pasadena by the end of the day today."
There's probably more to what Peter will be getting up to once he hangs up, but Stiles doesn't ask. The less he knows about the damaged parts of Peter's personality, the better; and if Peter is joining Braeden in finding the Desert Wolf, at least that increases the odds that both Malia and Nadia will be safe.
"And Stiles? Do the two of you a favor and find my newest niece a place to live that's larger than a postage stamp. I designated those funds for you for a reason."
Before Stiles can argue about affording a much larger place, Peter hangs up. Surveying the studio, he concedes Peter has a point. Living here gives credence to his life as Micah Gajos, impoverished second-year pediatric resident, but there's no way his neighbors will tolerate an infant in their midst. If he's careful, he can keep his rent down to believable levels, especially with the residency housing stipend.
In a different world, where the Hale fire never occurred, Stiles would have been sent through college, medical school, and residency, all on the pack's dime, like a trust fund baby. Once all his training was done, he'd have settled back in or near Beacon Hills and ensured the pack always had a medical professional in the know, as well as offered his services to surrounding packs. But in this world, the only pack left in northern California is Scott's, and Stiles feels no need to return.
Peter still managed to pay for medical school for Stiles from funds unearthed from somewhere other than those stolen for the Deadpool. The scholarships and grants even have legit paper trails that have funded a few other students, although Stiles suspects those students are supernatural or supernaturally adjacent. Unlike several of his fellow residents, Stiles has no student loan debt to pay off.
By the time Stiles reports to work three days later, he's the newly minted father of one Nadia Gajos, whose mother died in a tragic car accident a week ago in Georgia. Like most identities, the best lies are hidden in truth, and Stiles can genuinely express sorrow at the loss of his former next-door neighbor in Atlanta. Emma had been a lovely woman, although she was enough older than Stiles that it'd raise eyebrows to mention it. He doesn't mind, since it adds to the story of why she'd decided to be a single mom until fate intervened.
"Good to see you back, Gajos. Family emergency taken care of?"
Looking up the notes he's making on a patient's chart, Stiles nods, and he's a little surprised that Christina Dixon even noticed he missed his first day of the ER rotation. She's an attending, but she's also from the Fetal-Maternal Center, not the emergency room. Then again, she had the set of twins in the NICCU that were the reason Stiles was so exhausted the day Nadia appeared in his apartment. But she's always taken a little bit of extra interest in Stiles' career since he arrived for his residency since they both attended the same medical school.
He doesn't have to fake the exhaustion tinged with sorrow. "My daughter's mother was killed in a car accident back in Georgia. I had to go pick her up and bring her back to LA."
"I'm sorry to hear that. How is your daughter handling it? Did anyone tell you there's more leave than two days for a death in the family?" She's curious but also concerned, as if she's going to tear into his supervisor if she gets the wrong answer. Hell, based on what he's seen of her, she might. He also wonders if she expected an answer more along the lines of "grandma fell, but she's okay" to ask the question while on her way to or from a patient.
"Misses her mom, but she's too young to understand any of it. Only nine months." He leans back in the chair he appropriated to catch up on his notes after a spate of six kids from the same kindergarten class with a shared stomach virus. "I actually figured getting her back into a routine would help. She had to go on a waiting list here for the daycare, but the director recommended a good center nearby."
It makes him nervous to have Nadia several miles away, but Stiles is inclined to trust the placement because the second he crossed onto the property, he recognized the zână who runs the small family center as such. One thing he likes about Los Angeles is the sheer possibility of running into benevolent Fae, even in urban areas where forest supernaturals ought to be less comfortable. The four thousand acres of Griffith Park seem to be enough for the zână, and Stiles knows that once Viorica's given her word that Nadia is safe there, there are few forces that can cross her.
He should probably pay a bit more attention to the daycare director here, because she's really damn good at pretending to be purely human. He supposes finding a Fae species known for being guardians of children isn't surprising in a pediatric hospital, though, especially in the place where the human healers leave their own children to be safe while they save others. Both zână ladies probably know Nadia isn't Stiles' biological child, but as long as he's behaving in Nadia's best interests, they'll never reveal that.
"If you need anything for her, let me know. My wife and I have a thirteen-month-old daughter, our youngest, and between her and our four-year-old, there's plenty of little girl stuff around."
"Well, the first thing I've got to do is find a place with actual bedrooms, since I've been living in a studio since I came to LA."
"Low and behold, a problem I can fix." Christina fishes in the pocket of her lab coat for a small notepad and jots down an address. "Our place has a guest house, so my brother would have a good place to stay while he was in medical school here. He just moved in with his boyfriend, so it just opened up and I haven't put it on the market yet."
The address is in a decent area, staunchly middle class, and Stiles figures he could do worse than have landladies and neighbors who have kids of their own. "How much?"
"It's still a studio, but you won't have complaining neighbors, and there's room to set up a bed for the baby. We'll set the rent at whatever stipend you're getting for housing during your residency. It's still furnished, but we can put things into storage if you have your own."
It's a criminally low rent for Los Angeles, and he'd be suspicious if he hadn't already known Christina for the entirety of his residency here. He'll be putting the difference toward Nadia's care, not that Peter won't slip him money somehow.
"Thanks. This is a huge relief, not to have to carry her all over looking for a decent apartment."
She's called away to see a patient upstairs, and Stiles returns to completing his notes before he's summoned to the next patient. The twelve-hour shift feels both endless and too-short, and once he has Nadia securely settled into his car, he lets the GPS on his phone guide him to the address he was given. Christina isn't home yet, but her wife is obviously aware Stiles will be by and guides him to a small cottage that literally borders the Angeles National Forest.
It's larger than what he's currently living in and a hell of a lot more private. Although it shares the backyard with the main house, it has a scattering of fruit trees and mature grape vines that make the place feel almost like a cottage in the woods. If, for some reason, Derek does show up for his kid sooner rather than later, Stiles won't exactly complain about finishing out his residency while living here.
By the time he gets home on their second day in the new place, he has a visitor. Viorica isn't even bothering with the human guise she wears at her place in the city. It's the same quality that made Stiles' head hurt to look directly at the Ghost Riders, an otherness that makes him grit his teeth just a little. She runs her fingers along all the surfaces of the house, opening the French doors into the backyard before following suit with the windows. Stiles watches her curiously, letting whatever magic she's working take its course.
"Oh, Mischief," she says at last, and her otherworldly self shimmers and sharpens, falling into the seemingly human, like a lens coming into focus. "Only you would land yourself among a pack after hiding from one for so long."
"A pack?" He frowns, looking toward the main house. Although he's seen no indication that Christina or her wife are werewolves, he knows he never would have known about the Hales if the fire hadn't corrupted everything in Beacon Hills. "They're wolves?"
"Not wolves..." Viorica kneels to run a hand across Nadia's dark fluff of curls, making the baby smile. "Coyotes, although not corrupt like the one this one's mother is hunting."
"Do they know that she's a wolf?" he asks, regretting his avoidance of magic for the first time in a long time. Letting a Fae of a type known for fiercely protecting children into Nadia's life is one thing. The chaos surrounding every shifter Stiles has ever known makes him nervous, and the werecoyotes he knows are far more feral than the werewolves.
Viorica shakes her head, pressing a kiss to Nadia's forehead before coming and doing the same to Stiles. "The good doctor's adoption of you and the little one is simply favoring a single father in need of help. Her intentions are pure, and you'll both be well protected here. There are coyotes housed all around you, and the alpha pair will protect their family and all they claim as fiercely as any wolf."
After she leaves, stepping into the wilder growth past Stiles' cottage, Stiles decides to trust the zână's judgment and continue to trust Christina. He can't condemn the werecoyotes here based on the Desert Wolf's psychosis, and if Christina is a werecoyote, she certainly doesn't seem to be worried at all about her daughters taking her power.
He keeps his secrets and Christina's family keeps theirs, although on his off days, he accepts invitations to take Nadia to play with Christina's two younger children while the eldest decides to consider Stiles his new best friend. At eight, Christian is more interested in quizzing Stiles about how he used to play lacrosse, because apparently two of Christina's siblings played in high school as well.
Despite careful observation, Stiles doesn't catch any signs of the Dixons being shifters, although he learns there are a lot more siblings than just Christina and the two her son has mentioned. If werecoyotes share pack finances the way the Hales did, he supposes it explains the house Christina owns. She's enough older than him to be established in her career, but not enough to afford a place like this, which has to run close to two million in the crazy Los Angeles real estate market. It's definitely not due to her wife's salary, because Stiles has seen Tara in uniform, and her wife works for the county sheriff's department.
A month into life with Nadia, Stiles has a routine of sorts down for them both. He goes to work, she stays with her overprotective fairy godmother, and he scavenges all the time he can to spend with her. No one has called or shown up demanding Nadia back or worse, so he could almost forget she isn't really his.
Of course, eventually, it all has to change.
Living with an infant who needs him has changed Stiles' sleep patterns, so he rouses instantly when his phone rings, despite exhaustion from twelve-hour shifts in the emergency room combined with Nadia's recent bout of teething. He fumbles for the phone, trying to get it answered before it wakes Nadia. It's two in the morning, but he's been crashing by nine these days, with only an hour between Nadia's bedtime and his.
"I'm sorry to wake you."
Stiles sits up in bed, blinking to full awareness as he hears a voice he hasn't heard in a very long time. He wishes it didn't still conjure a sense of longing in him just like it did when he was a hormonal teenager. "You don't sound alarmed, so I'm hoping you just forgot the time differences."
"I didn't want to just show up without you knowing I was coming and making sure nothing had changed since Peter talked to you last."
"Where are you?"
"Paris, for another hour. My flight won't get into LA until around five tonight. I flew out of Morocco this morning. My morning, anyway."
"I'm on shift until seven, but might run late. Do you want to come to the hospital or wait until I get home?"
Between traffic from the airport and the possibility that the flight won't land on time, hopefully, Derek will only have an hour or so to wait. Although that means he'll be with Stiles to pick up Nadia, and that could be tricky with Braeden's letter stating Derek has no clue Nadia exists. As much as Stiles likes Viorica, introducing father and daughter in front of someone who is a stranger to Derek feels wrong.
Before Derek can answer, he offers a third option. "You could let yourself in at my place and wait."
The audible sigh of relief tells him it's the one Derek will select. "So long as it won't cause problems."
Stiles laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth abruptly when Nadia stirs. "You spent months climbing in and out of my bedroom window without worrying about getting caught."
"Stiles."
The exasperation in Derek's voice takes Stiles back to high school, although the difference between then and now is that he can tell there's affection underlying the exasperation.
"There's a keypad for an access code. I'll leave the deadbolt unlocked when I leave. Make yourself at home. Have a snack. Hell, take a nap."
"Sure, Stiles, I'll do that. You're sure you'll be safe on the way home?"
"I'll be fine. If you're lucky, I'll even pick up dinner."
There's a beep and the call quality drops for a moment, so Stiles misses what Derek says in response, then the call drops. A minute later, Stiles' phone chimes with a text instead. "Dammit. Phone dying. Charging before flight. Stay safe."
Nadia stirs, whining softly, and he gets up to check on her, while running back over the conversation. While Stiles understands the need for caution in discussing Nadia, not even a hint about her feels a little off. Frowning, Stiles wonders for the first time just what the hell Peter told Derek to get him to come to Los Angeles.
Stiles gets lucky that he actually leaves on time at the end of his shift, so when he pulls into the tiny private drive he has for the cottage, it's only 8:30. He has takeout from the nice burger and barbecue place halfway between the hospital and Viorica's home in the passenger seat and a cutely snoring infant in the backseat. A month of foster fatherhood has taught him to gather up Nadia and her diaper bag first before swinging by the passenger seat to snag the takeout bag. He doesn't have to figure out how to juggle everything to get the door open because as soon as he's close enough, the door swings open and he lays eyes on Derek Hale for the first time since Stiles left Beacon Hills for college.
When he was a teenager, Stiles found Derek attractive, enough so to start voicing curiosity about his sexuality for the first time since he developed a crush on Lydia in kindergarten. Learning about what Kate had done to Derek kept Stiles from ever expressing his interest, although he figured any werewolf around could scent the attraction. So long as no one actually voiced it, it could be ignored, and that's what Stiles did, and Derek obviously agreed with the idea.
But ten years later, everything Stiles found attractive about Derek physically has only amplified as Derek ages, and Stiles instantly notes that Derek looks far more comfortable in his own skin than he ever did when they were younger. He tamps down on the surge of want, reminding himself that he's promised to never cross that line with Derek unless invited.
"Hey, sourwolf. Long time, no see," Stiles quips.
Derek rolls his eyes at the old nickname, but he also smiles and reaches for the takeout and diaper bag, letting Stiles breeze by with Nadia. It's puzzling that he doesn't reach for the baby, and it reinforces Stiles' early morning concern about just what Peter told Derek to get him to Los Angeles. He is starting to strongly suspect "you're a daddy" did not feature in that conversation, and now he's the one who has to spill the beans. Both Braeden and Peter owe him big.
"Put the food on the table and grab a seat for a minute." Stiles juts his chin toward the only comfortable chair in the room, a wonderfully comfortable recliner that rocks. It also wasn't in the cottage on his first visit, and based on how shiny new it looked when he moved his stuff in, it's something Christina must have slipped in so he could rock with Nadia.
There are a lot of people Stiles wouldn't randomly hand a baby to, but as grouchy as Derek often is with adults, what he does remember is how much Derek adores Cora. He can't imagine that Derek didn't pose for those sweetly cute older sibling holding baby sibling photos that families with multiple children seem to adore. When Derek sets the food and diaper bag down and sits, looking puzzled, Stiles eases Nadia toward him instead of her bedside sleeper, and Derek takes the baby with all the care due a priceless treasure.
Nadia sighs softly in her sleep and rolls her face to bury her tiny nose in the fabric of Derek's shirt before settling down. As scent-oriented as every shifter Stiles has ever met is, he isn't surprised that some instinct in Nadia's mind recognizes another wolf easily.
"Peter didn't tell me you were a father," Derek says, adjusting so that the baby is cradled protectively in her new position. The sight makes Stiles' breath hitch. "Is that why you needed me here? Is there someone trying to harm you or the baby?"
"There isn't someone directly trying to harm her, as far as I know, but her mother left her with me for her safety."
Stiles crouches in front of them, reaching out to gently tickle Nadia's bare foot. With a kick and a growl that makes Stiles smile, Nadia buries her face further into Derek's chest. When Stiles tickles her a second time, she wakes, her eyes flickering open as she twists, trying to find him. She lays eyes on Derek first, and Stiles thinks that Derek will make the connection far faster than Stiles did in his sleep-deprived state.
"Stiles?" The absolute awe in Derek's voice is beautiful, and he doesn't look up from Nadia.
"Yeah, Derek, she's your daughter, not mine. Her name is Nadia."
Nadia breaks the serenity of the moment with a round of babble and heaves herself upright to go after Derek's hair. Derek lets her get two big handfuls, supporting her back as she stands in his lap. To Stiles' utter delight, Nadia growls again, sounding every bit like a playful puppy, and Derek responds by flashing his eyes. The crimson makes Nadia huff and giggle, letting go of Derek's hair to snuggle close. Stiles knows from experience that she's snuffling at Derek's throat, nuzzling into the warmth.
For the first time, Derek looks at Stiles. His eyes have dropped the supernatural color back to their normal hazel, and he just looks stunned as he cuddles Nadia to his chest. "Braeden brought her to you?"
"Broke into my third-floor apartment while I was sleeping and left her as a very cute and loud alarm clock."
"Why didn't she track me down instead?"
"Because she didn't want to lead the Desert Wolf to any of the Hales, and finding you would probably take more time than finding me did."
Stiles imagines that Braeden must be keeping tabs on him, even as he lives under an assumed name. It's flattering because, in her own way, the mercenary is the most cautious and paranoid person Stiles has ever known. He supposes she has to be, as a human working among the supernatural. Braeden is the example of what Stiles was becoming, and one of the reasons he dropped away into human life as best he could. He isn't sure he'd have retained the same amount of humanity as she has.
"Thank you."
There's none of the grumpy resentment Stiles used to hear in Derek's voice when Derek had to express gratitude for anything. Living as a traveling hermit seems to have calmed something in him. So Stiles smiles, before straightening from his crouch and going to parcel out their dinner and fix a bottle for Nadia.
Sharing a meal with Derek while the man feeds Nadia for the first time does unspeakable things to Stiles' emotions, but he got the hint years ago that Derek simply isn't interested. Whether it's just not in men in general or Stiles specifically, Stiles doesn't know, but either way, the attraction needs to be politely ignored. The downside is that once Nadia's bedtime routine is complete and she's asleep, catching Derek up on her daytime schedule doesn't take very long.
"I don't think we should change her routine," Derek says, gazing at Nadia's sleeping form in her small crib. "Braeden brought her here for a good reason, after all. I can find somewhere nearby to stay."
The relief Stiles feels that Derek isn't immediately spiriting Nadia somewhere far away from the Desert Wolf's potential influence tells him he's getting far too attached to his adopted daughter. When everything settles down and Braeden returns for her child, Stiles is in for a bit of heartbreak, he suspects. That's a problem for future Stiles, though. Present Stiles seems to want to compound his heartache because he doesn't want Derek to leave just yet either.
"You can stay right here, so long as my landladies don't object."
Stiles isn't sure that werecoyotes will pick up on Derek's being a wolf, although he imagines an adult alpha is harder to miss than a baby werewolf. He only knows for certain of Nadia's supernatural status because of Viorica's confirmation. Otherwise, she'd probably be four or five before they'd know for sure, and the odds skew about seventy-thirty against being a wolf when one parent is human.
Derek glances around the cottage, obviously taking note of the distinct absence of any other bed than the large and comfortable king-sized one Stiles sleeps in. Granted, Stiles knows the recliner is plenty comfortable, too, but he can't imagine sleeping in it more than a night or two. At first, Stiles thinks Derek will refuse, but then he surprises Stiles by nodding.
The answer is easy enough when Derek looks back at Nadia with a particularly soppy expression that Stiles is used to seeing on the faces of new parents.
Exhausted from interrupted sleep and a long shift, Stiles leaves Derek to baby-gaze while he showers, going through his usual bedtime routine. The only change he makes is taking the side of the bed away from the crib, since he figures Derek is going to want to be as close to Nadia as possible during the night. Well, that and wearing something more than boxer briefs to sleep in. He just hopes he doesn't sleep cuddle Derek in the night since he knows he tends to be a clingy sleeper.
Just when he's about to doze off, he remembers those crimson red eyes. "Derek? When did you become an alpha again?"
There's a soft sigh and rustling movement, and when Stiles rolls to look, Derek has his shirt off and is digging through his duffel bag. He allows himself to admire the view for a brief moment before rolling back to his side.
"Apparently, I was always an alpha. According to the expert I went to see in Morocco, it was just dormant due to trauma, both to me and to the alpha magic itself. It came back…" Derek falls silent long enough for Stiles to roll over again, only to find Derek staring at Nadia. "It came back about nine months ago."
It makes a sort of poetic sense. The magic that makes a wolf an alpha tends to run in families, but it can twist and corrupt if enough damage occurs when it is passed along, as far as Stiles' own research shows. Meant to be passed from generation to generation upon the natural death of the holder, sending the magic through multiple unnatural deaths only to land in a recipient who was wracked with guilt and agony over the way the last three alphas to hold it died... It's no wonder it took a break after finally being used for a positive purpose.
Derek might not have known he was a father, but somehow the family's magic knew there was a new Hale in the world. He wonders if Scott and Malia's son being born would have triggered it instead, if little Henry had been born before Nadia. Malia doesn't really consider herself a Hale, plus she's not a wolf, and Scott might have been turned by a Hale alpha, but he certainly doesn't consider himself a Hale, so probably not. Intent matters with magic far too much.
The bed dips under Derek's weight, and Stiles glances over his shoulder to see that Derek is mimicking his own position to sleep, back to Stiles. He was right about there being plenty of room, because with both of them practically hugging the edge of the bed, they could practically fit two adults between them. A little sad at the thought, he drifts off to sleep.
When Stiles wakes before his alarm this time, it's not to a ringing phone or even a crying baby. Instead, it's with the remnants of an intense sexual dream that makes his body ache. It takes him a minute to realize he's too warm, his back pressed against a firm chest, and that he isn't the only one rock hard in their shared bed. Derek's hips shift, rutting against Stiles' ass, and the grip Derek has on his hip makes squirming away next to impossible.
"Derek?"
There's no response, so Stiles assumes that, like himself, Derek is dreaming, especially when the hand at his hip moves upward under Stiles' shirt to tweak at his nipple. Stiles can't help moaning as a surge of pure want filters through him. He loves having his chest played with, but he can't help but connect the dots that Derek is looking for something far more substantial than Stiles' pectoral to cup.
The selfish part of him wants to let Derek finish and enjoy his dream while Stiles plays out the fantasy in his own mind. The responsible part of him that remembers Kate and Jennifer's abuse of Derek uses the looser grip to escape Derek's embrace.
As gorgeous as Stiles has always found Derek, there's nothing like looking down to see Derek shirtless and so aroused that the leaking head of his cock is escaping the lightweight shorts he'd worn to bed. Derek frowns in his sleep, seeking his now-missing bedmate, before rolling to his back and palming himself through his shorts. His eyes flutter open, and as soon as he sees Stiles next to the bed, he flushes deep red and rolls onto his stomach, burying his face into Stiles' pillow with a groan.
The apology Derek mutters is muffled, but Stiles is used to interpreting Derek's less-than-clear speech, even after all these years.
"It's okay," Stiles says, willing his own erection to subside. He tears his gaze away to check on Nadia, despite knowing she's asleep from the baby snores he can hear. Focusing on the baby should help, right? "It's a natural reaction for a healthy guy when he wakes up. Morning wood and all that jazz."
And then, because Stiles apparently hasn't matured one day beyond his spastic teenager self, he claps a hand over his mouth to stop the babbling and flees to the only privacy in the entire cottage. With the bathroom door shut behind him, he takes a few deep breaths to center himself, taking note of the aroused flush still coloring his skin. It shows much more vividly on his paler complexion than on Derek's, but a cold shower will take care of that.
By the time he emerges from the bathroom, Nadia is awake and grumpy, despite Derek's best efforts with a bottle. She reaches for Stiles, cuddling close to him and whining as soon as he takes her. Soothing the baby lets him avoid Derek just a moment longer, especially once Derek moves restlessly to the kitchen area and starts making breakfast. They go through the motions of getting ready, and when Stiles drives away for his shift with Nadia in the backseat, he can see Derek watching them go with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking as lonely as Stiles feels.
God, Stiles wishes things were different.
An exhausting twelve-hour shift later, Stiles debates just taking an Uber to pick up Nadia rather than driving, but the idea of not having any transportation at home with a vulnerable infant helps him push through. At least tonight he doesn't have an extra stop to pick up food, since Derek already texted that it was taken care of. Considering how good breakfast was, Stiles hopes Derek's newfound culinary skill extends to other meals, too.
This time, when he arrives home, Derek reaches for Nadia, tugging her close and speaking softly. Nadia responds happily to the attention, while Stiles follows them inside to the enticing smell of a homecooked meal after kicking off his shoes at the door. Spotting the crockpot on the counter, Stiles is puzzled, as he's pretty sure he doesn't actually own such an appliance. Based on the delicious looking pot roast inside, he isn't sure he cares where it came from.
"Your host's mother brought it by," Derek explains. "She also gave me permission to stay in their territory."
Stiles freezes, realizing he forgot one key issue in leaving this morning. He'd sought out Christina and gotten permission for Derek to stay, but since Viorica told him they weren't aware of Nadia's being a werewolf, he just assumed they wouldn't catch on to Derek, either. Then again, Derek may have followed some sort of protocol. It's easy to lose track of how sloppy Stiles' introduction to shifters was, with no structure around to speak of, and equally easy to forget that Derek was raised in an entirely different world.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think about it being different from Nadia with you being an adult wolf. Can you tell they're werecoyotes? I only know because the Fae told me."
Derek shakes his head. "I haven't actually met any of the shifters yet. Carol is their matriarch, but she's human. Her husband is the werecoyote, as are six of their eight children and a majority of the grandchildren."
"Damn. It's a lot more dominant than with wolves then."
Stiles' medical training makes him curious, but he figures now that the secret is out, he could always just ask Christina. It probably explains Malia's being a coyote rather than a wolf, though. He does wonder if the trait will hold with baby Henry. For now, he dishes up dinner, glad that Derek seems to be quietly ignoring this morning's incident.
Perched in her high chair, Nadia plays with a couple of the carrots from the roast, mushing more than eating, but delighted to have free reign. Stiles concentrates on her and his food as long as he can, grateful that Derek seems equally reticent for now.
"Carol also says they'll lend whatever resources they can to find Corinne."
"They can do that?" If so, Stiles is kicking himself for not confessing everything to Christina the second he knew what her family was.
"Apparently. Their family didn't live out here when Corinne was terrorizing the area, and the packs that were here were fragmented and disorganized. It's part of why they relocated here, but when they got here, Corinne was imprisoned at Eichen, or so they thought."
"I'm starting to wonder if anyone ever stays inside Eichen unless they just want to." Stiles sighs and leans back in his chair. "I assume they've confirmed she's on the loose? I figure Braeden's not the type to go on a wild goose chase, but it helps to have confirmation."
"She said she'd let us know." Derek scrubs his hand across his face with a frustrated growl. "I also talked to Peter today, who reminded me that Corinne knows who you are, Stiles. Not only that, but she's got a reason to hold a grudge against you personally. What if Braeden is wrong about who Corinne is targeting?"
So many years have passed since Stiles' ill-fated relationship with Malia that he didn't even consider himself someone who'd be on the Desert Wolf's list for revenge. After all, he'd been the one who got the talons to Malia that allowed her to drain her biological mother's power. He's well hidden compared to Malia or Cora, and he can understand why no one would leave an infant with Peter, but he's still disturbed. Why didn't he think about a possible grudge sooner?
"Fuck." He can't sit still, so he leaves his dining chair and paces the room. "Derek, why the hell would Braeden bring your baby to me, knowing I'd be near the top of Corinne's shit list?"
"Stiles."
The outright affection in Derek's voice isn't what Stiles expects to hear. He stumbles to a halt and turns to see Derek watching him intently.
"Just how far would you go to keep Nadia safe?"
Just the thought of anything happening to Nadia is enough to make Stiles cross the room to pluck the messy baby out of her high chair. She smears mushed carrots on his face while trying to jab her fingers into his mouth to feed him, and he laughs softly. But the answer to Derek's question is an easy one.
"There wouldn't be a reason to lock Corinne up again if she came after Nadia," he admits. "I'm not Scott. I don't forgive that easily."
"That would be your answer. She brought Nadia here because you'd scorch the earth if it kept Nadia safe. You love Nadia, and you defend anyone you love as viciously as any wolf ever would."
"I've taken care of her for a month, Derek. Of course I love Nadia."
Derek stands, coming to stand so close that only Nadia between them keeps them from being pressed chest to chest. "And if someone came after her on day one, you'd have done the same thing. Why is that, Stiles? Because she's a baby, or because she's my daughter?"
Although Stiles knows he'd defend any child from a threat like the Desert Wolf, he also knows he wouldn't have completely turned his life upside down for any random baby. He adopted Nadia and kept her with him because she was Derek's daughter.
When he doesn't answer, Derek reaches over to cup the back of Stiles' neck, his touch gentle. Despite how they woke up this morning, Stiles is completely shocked when Derek leans in to claim a kiss. It's gentle and almost chaste, but that alone is enough to make him whine softly.
It also tastes like mushed carrots.
The culprit behind the carrots smacks at them both, demanding attention of her own. Stiles spends the evening darting looks at Derek, who just smiles at him like he's figured out all of Stiles' secrets. He can't pester Derek, not with Nadia needing her bath and bedtime cuddles, which they do together. If he'd thought seeing Derek care for Nadia for the first time was torture on his hormones, he learns that caring for her as a pair amps it up a notch.
Stiles doesn't head for the shower like last night, instead sitting on the foot of the bed, watching as Derek settles Nadia into her crib. "Why did you kiss me?"
"Because I've wanted to do it for a very long time, and the time was finally right."
"How long is very long?"
"Since the day you spent hours keeping me above water in that pool."
Not kissing Stiles then makes sense. After what Kate did to Derek, Stiles understands why Derek would avoid crossing any lines with Stiles when he was in high school. But Stiles graduated a decade ago and is working on his second year of medical residency. Six years' age difference mattered when he was eighteen. It's nothing when he's twenty-eight.
"Why did you stay away all this time, then?" Stiles turns his attention from Derek to the baby in the crib. "And you're obviously still seeing Braeden at least occasionally."
Derek moves away from the crib, coming to stand in front of Stiles, but he doesn't touch Stiles. "I think the term you and your friends would have thrown at me back in Beacon Hills is "friends with benefits"."
He sounds so fucking amused, and that smirk is far closer to an expression Peter would wear than Derek. It reminds Stiles that for all the examples he's seen of the two male Hales in adulthood, the two are most definitely related-and that they grew up together. The thing is, he's just as much a smart ass as they are, and Derek has now removed the one barrier Stiles had in ignoring any attraction to the older man.
So Stiles lets his own smirk appear just as he slides his hands up Derek's thighs from his knees, stopping just short of cupping Derek's growing erection through his jeans. Derek watches, his eyes darkening as he inhales deeply. "I'm familiar with the term, but I'm not interested in being friends with benefits with you."
Leaning down, Derek stops just short of kissing Stiles. "If you were, I wouldn't be here at all."
Derek doesn't kiss Stiles again, not yet, but he reaches for the hem of Stiles' shirt and tugs, and Stiles doesn't resist at all, raising his arms to allow Derek to discard it. With a gentle push, he tips Stiles backwards on the bed, trailing his fingers along the light dusting of hair on Stiles' stomach before unfastening Stiles' jeans, one button at a time. As soon as he's peeled back the opening of the jeans, Derek presses a kiss just above the waistband of Stiles' boxer briefs. The feeling of Derek's breath ghosting across his skin, combined with the pressure of the kiss, has Stiles as painfully hard as when he woke this morning.
Pressing his fist into his mouth to hide the groan, Stiles lifts his hips and lets Derek strip him naked. Derek's own clothes follow, and the strip tease is something Stiles wants to see a million times. Stiles pushes himself up the bed as Derek stalks him, climbing up the bed. Once he's covered Stiles with his own weight, Derek kisses him again, and having their naked bodies pressed together at the same time nearly short circuits Stiles' brain.
Nothing Stiles ever fantasized about compares to actually having Derek's body over his, joining with him, and knowing that Derek doesn't want this to be a one-time thing. Only the presence of Nadia in the cottage keeps him from voicing his pleasure and joy loud enough for all the neighbors to hear. Keeping quiet adds an unexpected thrill to it, especially since Derek's method of keeping Stiles quiet involves kissing him senseless.
It all feels so damn good.
Afterward, when they slip into the shower together, Stiles can't help but explore all the skin Derek distracted him from earlier. Derek leans into the touch in a way that confirms his statement that whatever happened between him and Braeden, it's not a regular thing because Derek is as touch-starved now as he ever was. Stiles is more than happy to make sure it's not an issue ever again.
"We're going to need a bigger place eventually," Stiles says before stealing a kiss.
"When it's safe. Somewhere out here would be nice."
Stiles laughs, swatting at Derek's chest before turning off the water that's going cold. "Only if we get to dip into Peter's stash he's hidden away again. Do you know how much a place near here costs?"
"Hale pack," Derek says softly. "Hale funds." Then he chuckles softly. "You know it's just a matter of time before Peter settles here, too, don't you?"
Considering their snarky friendship over the past years, Stiles has no problem with that. It's one more person to guard Nadia's safety as well, and Stiles is completely selfish where his little princess is concerned. Drifting off to sleep tonight is much easier, curled against Derek's chest in the center of the big bed.
Peter doesn't make it to Los Angeles before the shit hits the fan. Stiles would normally say that was unfortunate, since Peter's particular brand of nonchalant viciousness is something he appreciates. But all things considered, with Peter's past with the Desert Wolf, combined with Talia's horrific meddling and stealing away the very memory of Peter's child, Stiles is actually damn glad Peter doesn't have to face off with Corinne when she does finally make her move.
They get another month of peace, a sort of honeymoon for Derek and Stiles, and a time for Derek to learn to be a father to Nadia. Stiles isn't sure what happens when Braeden returns, and he's the last person to want a child not to have their mother involved, but at the same time, the idea of Nadia being spirited away breaks his heart. He isn't sure how either of them will cope, because he can't really leave Los Angeles, and there's no way in hell he's asking Derek to not follow wherever Nadia is.
Stiles has always been good at living in the moment, and on a lucky day when his and Christina's days off coincide with a weekend, there's a massive family barbecue underway. It's at the Alphas' house, a large structure at the end of the cul-de-sac that blends into the environment in a way few other houses along the street do. He supposes it helps that Alpha Carol's other half, who introduces himself gruffly as Merle, owns his own construction company.
"You look blissfully happy," Christina says, nudging Stiles with a cold bottle.
He flashes her a grin as he accepts the beer, taking a swig before replying. "Did I look unhappy before?"
"Not really unhappy. But you were lonely. I didn't put two and two together, but you were missing pack life, weren't you?"
Stiles shrugs, watching the kids play for a moment. Thanks to Derek's introduction to the local alpha pair, none of Christina's family hides their otherness from Stiles anymore. Christina's girls are too young yet to show any real differences, but their son, Christian, takes delight in transforming into a small coyote pup to play with the girls, including Nadia. At a larger gathering like this, there's a hodgepodge of transformed kids playing with the two-legged variety, which attests to the blended nature of the werecoyote pack. Christina's family is truly massive, thanks to her having seven siblings and nearly a dozen nieces and nephews, in addition to her own three kids.
"I guess I was."
It isn't just having Derek and Nadia here, or that Derek seems settled into his own skin in a way that Stiles has never seen. The ghost of Kate no longer haunts Derek the way it did back in Beacon Hills, so Derek is happier and healthier. But as much as Stiles can function as a solo individual and takes pride in that, he's a social creature, a lover of family in a way he knows is common for adults who had lonely childhoods. Cutting himself off from Scott's pack officially was a smart move to save what friendship he might still have with his childhood best friend, and it certainly improved Stiles' odds of completing medical school and residency, but he's been so alone at times that his bones practically ached with it.
"I know my mother's stated it, but even after the rogue has been taken care of, we do hope that you, Derek, and Nadia stay with us. There's even a house on the territory border that might go on the market soon."
"Got the local realtors in your pocket, too?" Stiles teases.
"For the most part, yeah. Dad's been buying up the neighborhood for years now, house by house."
"I suspect there will be more than just us in the end." Derek's already warned him that Peter will relocate, and Stiles has kept in touch with enough of the others to know that Jackson misses California but doesn't like his current pack options. "Are your parents really comfortable with an actual wolf pack that close?"
"Do you really think Derek and my father will have any problems coexisting?"
When Christina motions toward the outdoor kitchen area, a custom build that Stiles knows would be the envy of any high-end homeowner, he has to laugh. Derek and Merle have abandoned the grill to Christina's younger brother Jasper's amused oversight while they huddle over a sketchpad and some sort of heated but enthusiastic debate. Finding out that Derek actually has an architecture degree made Stiles wish his past self had been a little less self-involved about the safe life Derek left behind in New York when Laura died.
"I'm guessing Derek also has a job offer pending…"
It was all too easy to relax in the big backyard and forget they were possibly being targeted by an assassin so skilled she'd eluded both human and supernatural authorities for decades. A muffled gunshot, a startled yelp, and screaming kids bring the idyllic barbecue scene to an abrupt end.
This is also when Stiles gets to see what a truly cohesive pack does upon being attacked. He's bowled over by Christina, rolling him behind a brick structure on the patio, and he can see Derek similarly pinned by Christina's brother. When he struggles against Christina, desperate to get to Nadia, he feels claw-tipped fingers bite into his shoulders.
"She's safe, you idiot," Christina hisses, pressing him down easily by matching werecoyote strength against human determination to escape. "It was Derek she shot."
Centering himself for a moment, Stiles realizes that, despite the screaming, the kids have fled the yard so quickly that he knows magic has to be involved. Since their emissary, Christina's brother-in-law, Eugene, is also missing, he's probably right. Twisting his head, he sees that there is a pool of blood spreading beneath Derek, but Derek is also moving slightly as Jasper goes after the bullet in Derek's shoulder with clawed fingers. Stiles doesn't know how Derek isn't screaming, but perhaps the idea of being more of a target is stronger than the pain.
"If I let you go, will you stay here and not do anything stupid? I need to join my sisters."
There's a fierce animalistic undertone to Christina's normally light-hearted Georgia drawl that makes Stiles freeze and nod, and he's left behind as Christina transforms and takes to the shrubbery behind him, disappearing as easily as the children did. He does move, but it's to ease closer to the brick half-wall that edges the patio and displays some of Christina's mother's impressive gardening skills. There's no easy way to get an angle on him from here, and he wonders suspiciously if Christina led him to those particular lounge chairs for a reason. It's what he would have done when protecting a packmate, after all.
When the snarling and sounds of fighting in the brush beyond the backyard start, Jasper jerks his head toward the noise before transforming and bounding off toward it. With even the human members of the werecoyote pack missing, Stiles decides to risk crossing the patio to reach Derek.
"How bad is it?" Stiles asks, noting the telltale signs of wolfsbane poisoning.
"Jasper says he's got the strain in their medkit. I told him to help take care of the threat first."
Stiles grimaces at the sluggish black blood seeping out of the wound before fumbling in his pocket for the leather pouch he started carrying toward the end of his time in Beacon Hills and recently unearthed. "Did he say what kind?"
"Yellow, he thinks, based on the reaction and smell."
Yellow is weird, tricky, and expensive, but at least it's not the Argent custom wolfsbane that's rarer than hen's teeth. Stiles has just enough to treat Derek, but if anyone else is shot this evening, he'll have to pray Jasper has a good stash, or else they'll have to resort to a worse way of removing the poison. At least none of the children are at risk.
The process is as horrible as it always was, shoving burning wolfsbane into an open wound, and Stiles thinks that if the supernatural life is going to end up his again, he's damn well going to find a better method. Derek is pale and sweating, but the wound is healing rapidly. Stiles breathes a deep sigh of relief, scrubbing his hands clean on his jeans.
"I've got to go help them," Derek mutters, rolling to a crouch before standing and kicking off his shoes and jeans. Stiles doesn't try to stop him, but no matter how many times he sees Derek do a full transformation from man to wolf, it's still breathtaking.
Even though the human members of the pack have disappeared as well, some likely to hunt the assassin lurking in their territory considering several of them are law enforcement, the best place for Stiles is right here. He sighs, seeing his reflection in the glass patio doors, and edges out of that line of sight. As much as he thinks the fight has turned supernatural, why take the chance?
Waiting never used to be Stiles' strong point, but one thing medical school taught him was how to find the calm within himself and endure. It doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on his watch or his ears perked to hear what he can, but until he hears multiple bodies moving just as it falls dark, he is clueless to what is going on out there. Derek is the first one he sees, his sleek black body flashing along the glass's reflection as he lopes into sight and comes to a halt in front of Stiles.
Stiles offers Derek his previously discarded jeans, knowing that despite the usual shifter comfort with nudity, Derek prefers to avoid it. The coyotes are further out in the yard, and Stiles stands to look. There's one body in coyote form, wrapped with some sort of talisman, lying limply in Christina's wife's arms, but since Tara doesn't look upset, just grimly solemn, Stiles guesses that the Desert Wolf's luck has finally run out. The Dixons begin transforming back to their human forms, putting a hell of a lot of bare flesh on display. Several are wounded, but only one seems to have gunshot wounds, and Jasper is treating them as calmly as he checked Derek over earlier.
"Is she dead or confined somehow?" Stiles asks, wrapping his arms around Derek after checking there were no new wounds.
"Dead," Derek says, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple. "Christina's oldest sister and Peter have the same ideas about dispatching threats to their pack."
"Can't say I object." After seeing Derek lying bleeding on the patio, Stiles' only regret is that he wasn't able to retaliate himself.
"They'll cremate the body at the local veterinary clinic. Not taking any chances on some sort of revival, especially since Corinne managed to regain her werecoyote form somehow."
"And it saves turning in a mauled human body that will scare all the locals into taking potshots at coyotes in the area."
It's smart, and had Deaton been less of an unholy asshole about things, perhaps there would have been fewer bodies turning up in Beacon Hills back in the day. He hopes the local vet is in the know, just because he wouldn't want to be that poor animal crematorium worker if they remove whatever magical item is keeping the body in coyote form.
At some signal Stiles misses, the kids are back in the yard, and just when Stiles feels uneasy about the kids seeing the coyote's body, he realizes that the Dixon sibling Derek compared to Peter and her deputy husband have disappeared. He hears a car start up, which he figures means they're taking care of the body sooner rather than later. Having Nadia plopped into his arms by Christina's youngest sister distracts him from further pondering of it.
"Should we figure out how to contact Braeden?" he asks Derek, feeling reluctant to give Nadia up quickly.
Derek sighs as he smooths Nadia's hair. "I'll call Peter. He's got the best contacts for finding her. I just hope that Corinne's being here and Braeden's not hot on her heels just means that Braeden's following a false lead somewhere."
They trek home, getting Nadia settled before they each make phone calls; Derek to Peter and Stiles to his dad. It'll be easy enough for Noah Stilinski to verify nothing's gone pear-shaped in Beacon Hills, especially with Jordan as sheriff there now. Stiles prefers to keep a few levels of plausible deniability between himself and Scott, even after all these years. All is safe in Beacon Hills, so now it's just a waiting game.
Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night (again), this time because Derek's arm tightens around his middle. He freezes, stretching his human senses as best he can, and finds something out of place even without a werewolf's sense of smell. The coffee pot isn't set to produce its heavenly brew until five, and Stiles' view of his phone on the charging dock tells him it's only two.
"Braeden? You really need to stop burglarizing Stiles' home," Derek grumps, letting Stiles go to sit up.
When Stiles copies him, he sees the elusive mercenary unpacking a takeout bag at the cottage's tiny two-seater table. She smiles at them both before settling into a chair and opening one of the containers.
"I thought about waiting until morning, but I really needed to lay eyes on her tonight," Braeden says, taking a bit of something that smells sugary sweet and makes Stiles' stomach grumble. From the angle she's sitting, she's got a clear view of Nadia snoring softly in her crib. "I'm sure you understand."
"Depends." Stiles swings his feet to the floor and heads for the table. "Did you bring enough for all of us to have a midnight snack?"
"Keep your greedy fingers off the red velvet waffles, and the rest is yours."
Braeden obviously remembers Stiles' sugar addiction, because the first container he opens is a Nutella, strawberry, and banana crepe. He decides he just might forgive her for breaking and entering as he digs in.
"Is there anything that won't require a dentist's visit by noon?" Derek asks, padding over to the table and taking the lid off a drink cup. The scent of chai tea drifts out, and Stiles isn't surprised when Derek claims it.
"Chorizo breakfast burrito." Braeden sighs, darting a look at Derek as he unwraps the burrito and settles at the foot of the bed. "I'm sorry I didn't track you down when she was born."
Stiles would probably hold a grudge until the end of time for missing ten months of his child's life, but Derek just looks mournful.
"I can forgive you, so long as you aren't here to take her away again."
"I'm not." Braeden lays down her fork, calm in a situation that would make Stiles fidget endlessly. "The life I lead is not conducive to a healthy childhood."
"You could retire," Stiles suggests. "Not that I want you to take Nadia, but you could find a new career and settle here. It's a big city. Pretty easy to get lost in."
Braden's hand goes to the claw scars on her skin and she shakes her head. "I have made too many enemies to ever retire peacefully, Stiles, and that's ignoring the fact that my luck in eluding the human authorities will run out one day. They don't approve much of former US Marshals going rogue assassins, you know."
She gets up and makes her way to the crib, laying her hand on Nadia's tiny back and being careful not to wake her. "She'll be safe here. The Dixons are well respected even by hunters, and even if Derek uses his true identity, so are the Hales. So long as the two of you don't mind that I drop by now and then."
The idea that Nadia won't have her mother in her life on a daily basis makes Stiles' heart ache a bit, but Braeden has a point. It's better to have a dark fairy godmother type of mother dropping in regularly than to visit Braeden in a federal prison, or worse, a graveyard.
"You'll always be welcome where Nadia is," Stiles declares, and he doesn't have to look at Derek to confirm that his boyfriend will back him up, and Derek does when he speaks up gruffly.
"If you ever change your mind, Braeden, you'll always have a place in our lives."
"One day, perhaps that'll be possible." Braeden gives in to temptation, picking Nadia up without waking her, a skill Stiles envies. She cuddles her daughter close, pressing a kiss to Nadia's forehead. "The Desert Wolf was the worst of them, but the others won't have a reason to track you two down, or her."
Braeden stays for a week with the blessing of the Dixons, who extend the same invitation that Derek did: she's welcome if she ever changes her mind. But in the end, she disappears in the middle of the night the same way she reappeared. All she leaves behind is a set of papers that terminate her rights under Nadia's birth name, with Mieczyslaw spelled perfectly.
Stiles files them, along with everything his lawyer needs to make sure Nadia is his and Derek's legally, and the judge signs off on everything the day after they close on that house near Christina's family. He still feels uneasy, being exposed to the world again under a name tied so closely to everything that went wrong in high school, but it's time to embrace all of who he is again.
No more hiding, no more pretending, just being who he wants to be: a doctor, a partner, but most of all, a father.
As Stiles stands on the back patio watching Nadia try-and fail-to catch a beetle in the grass, he calls out encouragement, and she looks up at him and smiles. The sun dances across her skin and she tries to catch the motes she can see in the air, laughing all the way. Stiles sees all his eternity in one little girl's eyes.