Stiles is a Mikaelson(Rewritten)

Chapter 41

Previously on

Stiles is a Mikaelson

Stiles's Pov

"You're right," I said finally, calm settling over me. "I can do this. We can do this."

"We will," Damon agreed, his hand squeezing mine. "Together."

As the triplets and Hope ran toward us, eager to show us what they had learned, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. No matter the challenges, we were a family—united in love, understanding, and the knowledge that we would face anything together.

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Stiles's Pov

It had been one of those weeks where I felt like my life was held together by coffee, sticky notes, and sheer willpower. Between work, the triplets zipping around the house like caffeinated bunnies, and Damon trying to balance my sanity with his eternal, sarcastic commentary, I felt like I hadn't taken a full breath in days.

That's why, when Damon slid up to me in the kitchen late one evening with that signature smirk on his face, I knew he was about to suggest something. Something that would require effort.

"You know, Daddy," Damon started in a sing-song voice, leaning against the counter, "I think we're overdue for a little time to ourselves."

I squinted at him as I poured hot water into my tea. "Damon, I swear if this is about binge-watching another true crime documentary, we don't have time. The kids are already suspiciously quiet, and you know what that means."

"It's not about Netflix," Damon replied, ignoring me as he trailed a finger up my arm in that annoyingly charming way he knew worked. "I'm talking about a real date night. You and me. Alone. Without triplet chaos tearing through the house."

I blinked at him. "A date night? You mean leaving the kids?"

"Exactly."

"You want to leave Cayley, Henry, and Asher unsupervised to run a small dictatorship while we're gone? I hope you've written out your will because they'll overthrow us in under three hours."

Damon snorted. "Relax. I've already thought it through. Your dad and Peter can watch them."

I froze mid-sip. "Dad and Peter?"

"Yes. They're perfectly capable, Stiles. Your dad's a pro. And Peter... well, Peter can handle things if the kids get too energetic. It's not like he hasn't seen worse."

I set the mug down slowly. "You want my dad and snarky uncle Peter to team up and play babysitters to three vampire kids. That's... brave. Or stupid. Possibly both."

Damon's smirk grew. "It'll be fine. John loves them, and Peter will probably teach them how to tie knots or something useful. Besides," he continued, now stepping closer, "we deserve this, Daddy. When's the last time we did something for just the two of us?"

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. He wasn't wrong. I couldn't remember the last time Damon and I had a moment to ourselves that didn't include a crying kid, a spilled drink, or one of the triplets accidentally breaking a door because their vampire strength kicked in at the wrong time.

"Fine," I grumbled, throwing up my hands in surrender. "Fine. But if my dad calls me halfway through the night because the kids have staged a mutiny, it's your fault."

Damon grinned, leaning in to kiss my cheek. "Deal. Now go put on something nice. I'm taking you out."

A few days later, the plan was set. John—my eternally patient and slightly skeptical father—showed up right on time, carrying a bag of snacks and games like he was preparing for battle. Behind him was Peter Hale, smirking like this was the most entertaining thing to happen in weeks.