You've got the love I need to see me through - Baby in the Pack

8

Derek, Isaac and Malia come home from their morning run and find Stiles in the kitchen. He's sitting at the table, his phone in front of him and the baby monitor somewhere in the middle of the table. There's an air of misery around him that has Malia already opening her mouth, yet Isaac pulls her with him before she can say something. They disappear deeper into the house, leaving Derek to deal with Stiles and his dark mood.
He doesn't say anything at first, giving Stiles space to speak up if he wants to. Derek gets a tall glass from the cabinet and fills it underneath the tap. He gulps the contents down in one go and fills it up to do it again. He turns to lean against the counter with his second refill, this time taking small sips.

Stiles has gotten up to pace around the room, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. "I called Cristina," he finally says tersely. Derek makes an inquisitive sound, taking another sip of water. "She only answered the phone to say she didn't want to talk. Then she hung up." Stiles wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Who does that? She could've just as easily let it go to voicemail!"

"Would you have liked it better to have been calling time after time, only to get her voicemail? At least now it's clear that she doesn't want to talk, harsh as it is."

Stiles glares at him, coming to a stop in front of Derek. "I hate it when you're the voice of reason. It's weird. Sixteen year old me would be so confused."

Derek lets the corner of his mouth tick up in an approximation of a smile. "I've had time to learn," he admits. "You could say I had a good mentor."

The young man huffs, his sour mood not lifting a bit. He also smells sad. Derek can't let that stand, so he puts the glass away and pulls Stiles into a hug. "You're sweaty," Stiles complains, but he doesn't try very hard to pull away.

"You'll live," Derek says, knocking his head playfully against Stiles'. He tightens his arms a moment and then pulls back a bit so he can look at his future emissary, leaving his hands on Stiles' shoulders. "Why did you call Cristina?"

Stiles shrugs awkwardly, not looking Derek in the eyes but focussing on a point somewhere below his chin. "Don't know... Just - She's Billie's mom. Wouldn't she want to know how she's doing?"

"She gave you full custody," he reminds him gently. "I can imagine she wants to keep her distance. At least for now, to get used to the way things are."

"Again with the voice of reason." Stiles makes a face like he feels wronged.

"Let's put it this way. Will it change anything if you speak with her?"

The younger man shrugs again. "I don't know... No? Maybe. I don't know."

Derek squeezes his shoulders. "Billie has you, her dad. She has her pack."

Stiles takes a deep breath and nods. "She has her Alpha."

It sounds a bit hesitant, so Derek pulls Stiles in again, hugging him tight. "Yes, she has her Alpha. You both have. Always."
They stand like that for a long time, while the sun fills the kitchen with bright light. When he rebuilt the house, Derek put in an extra window in the kitchen, facing the South East. He's been very pleased with that decision ever since he enjoyed his first cup of morning coffee in his new kitchen.

In his arms, Stiles stirs. "You still stink," he complains in a put upon tone. "And your shirt is all damp." He doesn't mention how a tear or two from him have added to that and it's not like Derek is about to say anything about the smell of tears that was there a moment ago.

"It's clean sweat," Derek argues, easily letting go of Stiles when he steps back. "Honest sweat doesn't stink."

Stiles sticks his tongue out. "Still think you should shower."