Two new members in the FBI (Rewritten)

Chapter 43

Previously on Two new members in the FBI

Stiles's Pov

This was fatherhood.

And I wanted to go home.

Not just for the full moon.

Not just to solve the maybe-something-happened mystery.

But because I missed them.

I missed Jackson's quiet strength, the way he turned soft only when no one else was looking. I missed Boston's sleepy yawns and milk-drunk grunts and the way his tiny body fit perfectly against mine.

I missed our life.

And I was done being away from it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackson's Pov

September 16, 2024

Boston was breathing against my chest, steady and shallow, one tiny hand tucked under his chin. The house was still, the kind of still that only comes after a long stretch of strain—like everything around us was holding its breath too.

I was sitting in the rocker in the corner of our bedroom, his weight tucked against me in the wrap carrier, wrapped in a cotton blanket with soft gray stars. He'd been up twice during the night—nothing unusual, just small cries and one long feeding around three—but every sound he made jolted me out of sleep like an alarm. Not because he was upset.

Because tomorrow was the full moon.

I hadn't said much out loud, not yet. Not even to Stiles. Not since that growl two nights ago. It had been brief. Isolated. But something about it—something in the way Boston's lip curled, the little huff of breath that didn't quite sound human—had stayed with me. Lodged deep. I kept replaying it in my head, trying to convince myself it was just a fluke. Just a baby sound.

But it hadn't felt like a fluke.

It felt like something... new.

And now, as the sky outside the window shifted from night to light blue, I felt my pulse syncing with the quiet.

Boston shifted, sighing in his sleep, his forehead resting against the edge of my jaw. I closed my eyes and pressed a kiss there, breathing in the soft scent of his hair. He was warm. Real. And still, in every way that mattered, just a baby.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't change.

I looked over at the bassinet beside the bed—empty, the swaddle still rumpled where he'd started the night. He'd cried at 4:15, not loud, but urgent. When I'd picked him up, his whole body had curled into mine like he needed skin-to-skin more than sleep, and I hadn't put him down since.

Stiles would be home today. That was the only thing keeping me grounded. He'd texted just after midnight that they'd wrapped the case, and if he left early, he'd be home by lunch. I was counting the hours.

I needed him.

Not just because I was tired. Not because I couldn't do this alone. But because... I didn't want to. Not tonight. Not tomorrow.

Boston made a small grunt, his tiny fingers flexing. I adjusted the wrap to keep him snug and hummed low under my breath. Not a melody—just a sound. Something to remind him I was there.

Something to remind me I was still steady.

The moon tomorrow wouldn't rise until after dark, but I already felt it in my skin—pulling at the edges of me. The Kanima was quiet. So was the wolf. But they weren't gone. They'd gone still in the way wild things go still right before they move.