Stiles is a Mikaelson(Rewritten)

Chapter 46

Previously on

Stiles is a Mikaelson

Damon's Pov

When we finally stepped back into the hallway, Stiles let out a tired sigh. "Think they'll stay asleep for a little longer?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. But knowing our kids? Probably not."

Stiles groaned. "We are never getting another full night's sleep again, are we?"

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. "Nope. But would you really trade it for anything else?"

He leaned into me, exhaling softly. "Not for a second."

We stood there for a moment, just the two of us, soaking in the rare quiet. The world outside was uncertain, changing in ways we couldn't predict. But here, in this house, with Stiles by my side and our kids safe in their beds, I knew one thing for certain—whatever came next, we'd face it together.

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Damon's Pov

February 24th, 2020 

 The sound of giggles and tiny feet pounding against hardwood floors jolted me awake before the sun had fully risen. I groaned, turning over in bed, and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 6:02 AM. Too damn early.

Beside me, Stiles was still asleep, sprawled out in that ridiculous way he always ended up in—one arm thrown over his face, the other clinging to the pillow like it owed him something. I debated waking him up, but given how exhausted he'd been the past few days, I decided to take one for the team.

I sighed and threw the covers off, rubbing my face as I stood. The triplets were already full of energy, running up and down the hallway, shrieking about something I wasn't quite awake enough to decipher yet. I stepped out of the bedroom just in time to see Asher leap off the couch with a blanket tied around his neck like a cape.

"Asher Beau Mikaelson, do not—"

Too late.

He landed with a dramatic roll, arms spread wide. "I flew, Mommy!"

"You fell," I corrected, pinching the bridge of my nose. "There's a difference."

Henry, standing on the couch beside him, looked intrigued. "I wanna try!"

"Oh, hell no," I muttered, marching over before he could launch himself off the furniture. I scooped him up and plopped him onto the floor. "New rule: No flying before breakfast."

Cayley, still in her pink pajamas covered in little stars, twirled in a circle. "But we're superheroes, Mommy!"

"Superheroes who eat breakfast before saving the world," I said, guiding them toward the kitchen.

Stiles stumbled in a few minutes later, hair a mess, rubbing his eyes. He was wearing one of my shirts—something he'd stolen long ago, claiming it was the perfect 'lazy-day' shirt. I smirked as he made a beeline for the coffee machine like a zombie in desperate need of brains.

"Morning, Daddy," Henry chirped, stuffing a bite of toast into his mouth.

"Too early," Stiles grumbled.

Cayley climbed onto her chair. "Mommy says superheroes have to eat breakfast before saving the world."

Stiles looked at me, his lips twitching. "Sounds like Mommy has a lot of rules."