“seriously, homes, are you the baby whisperer?” ray calls over baby screams while trying not to wake the sleeping baby on brad’s chest.
brad shakes his head, palm gently splayed over wes’s back as the four month old sleeps on his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily under his own palm, “just takes a delicate touch, ray.”
ray glares, still bouncing around, still rocking. noah continues to scream, loud and pitiful, and ray is really trying his hardest to remember what nate and walt said, but it’s all being drowned out by the screaming baby in his arms.
“ray, try a bottle, try singing, try something,” brad suggests, not budging from where he’s got wes cradled on his chest.
“tried singing, guess it’s bottle time,” ray murmurs, wandering in to the kitchen and following the instructions written in nate’s block handwriting on the fridge.
ten minutes later, he’s slumped on the couch next to brad, noah working his way through his bottle, looking around contentedly with blue eyes, “remember when i said i wanted kids?”
“i changed my mind.”
jace is trying his hardest, his absolutely hardest, to keep from pressing alec into the couch and just having his way because, damn, if the older male isn’t about to drive him to drinking. which is ironic because alec is driving him to drinking because he’s been drinking.
alec has got to be the most affectionate drunk jace has ever met in his life. if by affectionate, one means, horny and very touchy-feely. which is why jace has one of his hands tangled with each of alec’s, but he’s out of hands and alec is very intently grinding down into his lap.
“clearly i have the patience of a monk.”
alec pulls back from where he’s been working on leaving a mark on jace’s neck, eyebrow lifted, “what?”
jace shakes his head, squeezing alec’s hands lightly in his, wishing he had one free at least, “nothing, parabatai,” he murmurs softly, groans as alec rolls his hips down.
“oh, to hell with it,” jace leans up, capturing alec’s lips in a kiss and releasing his hands, both of them working to get the other undressed as fast as possible.
it’s been a month since the incident with the old lady at the grocery store. derek wakes up in the guest room or what he and stiles have both started calling his room, listens to stiles bang around in the next room, getting ready for work before deciding to get up himself.
he’s been working on his family’s house for a while now, trying to get it back to its former glory or as close to it as he can manage. he’s making fried eggs, a little runny like stiles likes them, when it finally hits him.
and, damn, if it isn’t a shock. the toast popping up shocks him out of it and derek ends up scooping the eggs onto a plate. he adds toast and is pouring glasses of orange juice when stiles wanders into the kitchen.
he says something but derek is too caught up in his own mind to catch it.
stiles looks over at him, eyebrow lifted as he cuts into his eggs. “i said thanks for making breakfast.”
derek nods a little, “no problem,” he murmurs, setting one of the glasses of orange juice in front of stiles, before taking a drink of his own.
“i should get off early today,” stiles states, looking in derek’s direction, “i can pick us up something.”
nodding, derek finishes his glass and sets it in the sink, moving so stiles can put his own dishes in as well. he watches stiles leave, realizes that the other’s badge is still sitting on the counter.
derek shakes his head and grabs it, heading out the door, just as stiles starts to back out the driveway. he crosses in front of the car around to the driver’s sider, leaning in towards the window, one arm bracing him on the top of the door, “forget something?”
stiles grins sheepishly at derek, taking the badge from his grasp. “thanks,” he murmurs and presses his lips to derek’s cheek.
derek can only stare after stiles’s car in mild shock.
on stiles’s day off, he doesn’t wear his uniform. derek isn’t sure how to feel about that, especially when he discovers that his uniform is replaced with basket ball shorts that he can barely keep above the waist band of his boxers, because even if stiles has filled out and does have a nice ass, it’s still not enough to keep anything up around his hips without a belt or tie.
derek also learns that stiles is an obsessive cleaner. and every time he tries to help, he just gets shooed out of the way. he figures he finally wears stiles down enough when stiles shoves the broom into his hands and then not so gently shoves him out of the dining room and into the kitchen.
once stiles deems the place clean again, derek finds himself getting dragged across town so stiles can buy groceries and pester him about what he likes to eat. it’s an adventure and they seem to argue about everything that ends up in the cart.
it’s all going pretty good until this little old lady wanders over, barely paying derek any mind as she hugs stiles and pinches his cheeks, causing him to flush red as she fawns over him.
derek’s simply watching in amusement when she turns in his direction. “you must be the young man that’s gotten poor stiles all enamored and tongue tied,” she states and pats his cheek.
she turns back to stiles, “he is quite handsome,” and derek wants to laugh because stiles looks like a fish but he’s too busy trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
she says something else to stiles, thanking him derek thinks, before she wanders off, leaving the two of them standing in the cereal and juice aisle. “don’t say a word, hale.”
stiles is fuming. livid, furious, angry, mad, and every other word under the sun that means he’s about to rip derek’s intestines out with his bare fists. he’s so angry that the violent and very gross thought doesn’t even make him pauses as he storms up the newly redone steps of the hale house.
he doesn’t even knock, just bursts in. “derek!”
derek’s head pops from around the door frame to the kitchen, eyebrows almost comically high. “what?”
“of all the stupid, stubborn, pig headed, annoying things you’ve done, i think you’ve finally managed to outdo yourself for once!”
derek still looks confused, stepping into the entry way where stiles is, but keeping his distance, “what’s your problem now?”
stiles looks like he’s considering impaling derek on the sharpest object necessary so the werewolf takes a step back without realizing it. “jeremy! you actually attempted to threaten jeremy!”
oh. derek shrugs and lifts an eyebrow, “so?”
stiles stalks forwards, pressing a finger into derek’s chest, “you don’t get to threaten him away from me! you don’t have the right! even if you hadn’t broken up with me, you still wouldn’t have the right!”
derek rubs the spot on his chest, watching stiles storm off, “shit.”
derek isn’t sure how many glasses of scotch stiles has downed yet, but he vaguely wishes that he could get drunk as well. especially because it seems the more alcohol he takes in, the more prone stiles is at trying to get naked.
his button up is long gone with his belt, sitting there in his uniform pants and undershirt that looks about a size too small, stretched across his shoulders as he knocks back another glass. “i swear, if i had known that being a cop came with so much damn paperwork, i would’ve done something else.”
derek finds that hard to believe cause stiles’s dad was the sheriff, but he doesn’t mention it, just makes another attempt at retrieving the bottle from stiles’s grasp. all that he achieves is causing stiles to topple over out of his chair.
he finds himself jumping out of the chair and going to the younger male without even thinking about it, pulling him up off the floor, “you alright?”
“jus’peachy,” stiles murmurs, voice slurring a little as he slumps into derek, bottle forgotten on the floor as he clings to the werewolf.
derek huffs, holding stiles up and starting for the stairs. if he had thought that stiles was impossible as a teenager, he was clearly not prepared for him as an adult. the younger man’s like an octopus, trying to wrap himself completely around derek and almost completely refusing to be any help in getting himself up the stairs.
it’s only because of derek’s superhuman strength that they make it up the stairs without falling. from there it’s getting him into his bedroom and onto the bed without ending up in the bed himself. derek briefly considers helping stiles out of his clothes because he can’t see them being comfortable to sleep in.
he’s already decided that that’s probably not his best idea when he gets hit in the face by stiles’s undershirt, which he lets fall to the floor in time to see stiles trying to squirm his way out of his pants. derek leaves before he decides to do something he’ll regret.
yeah. i’m just a little picky sometimes, cause i feel like i’m terrible at writing girls.
do you mean straight as in het…?