Sterek one shots

Years and miles between us

Smut at end but you could skip it

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By: GotTheSilver

Stiles hitches Ryan up in his arms, chubby hands grabbing onto his hair and—jeez, he never thought he'd miss the buzzcut. "Come on baby, let go," he says, wincing as he detangles Ryan's hands from his hair. "Derek, what time are the Boyd clan getting here?"

"Two, and don't let Erica know you call them that."

"Well, don't tell her and we'll be fine. Did all the meat defrost?"

Derek walks out of the bedroom and grins at Ryan, rubbing a hand over his soft brown hair. "Yes, the meat defrosted, yes we have enough food." He steps closer and noses at Stiles' cheek. "Why are you so worried?"

"I'm not worried." Stiles makes a face and hands Ryan off to Derek when he starts to squirm, a low whine in his throat as he reaches for Derek. "It's the first time they're meeting Ryan, okay? And we haven't seen them in forever," he says, following Derek down the stairs. "And what if Katy has decided that Uncle Stiles isn't cool anymore?"

"We saw them at Christmas, Stiles, and Katy still thought you were cool then. I doubt that much has changed." Derek kisses Stiles' cheek and crouches down, placing Ryan on his playmat in front of the couch. Reaching a hand up, he tugs at Stiles' arm. "Come on. Come down on the mat and play with us."

"Okay, okay." Stiles kneels down next to Derek and bops Ryan on the nose with his giraffe. "Hey kiddo, want to play with blocks? Yeah, oh, a red one, that's a good choice. How about the blue one to go with it?"

"Boo," Ryan says, his eyes wide as he smiles up at Stiles.

"Blue, that's right. How about this one? Orange?" Stiles grins at the little wrinkle in Ryan's forehead as he contemplates the block Stiles has in his hand. "Yeah, orange is a bit much. You pick." He drops the block on the ground and sits back, crossing his legs and leaning into Derek, resting his head against Derek's shoulder.

"Da," Ryan says seriously as he hands Derek the orange block.

"Is that for daddy, Ryan?" Stiles grins. "Are you trying to tell daddy to branch out from the muted tones of his wardrobe?"

"Stiles, don't give him ideas," Derek groans, a soft smile on his face as Ryan crawls off to get more blocks, his hands grabbing and throwing them at his pile.

"I'm not giving him any ideas, he chose to give you that lovely bright block."

Ryan rocks back onto his butt, the back of his head hitting the edge of the cupboard, face screwing up as he wails. Before Stiles can move, Derek's already holding Ryan, kissing his head and wiping the tears from his face. "You're okay, baby, you're okay. The pain's all gone now. It's just the shock." While Ryan rubs his his face against Derek's neck, Stiles joins them, rubbing a hand along Ryan's back as he sniffles, slowly calming down.

"Da," Ryan says plaintively, his hands fisting in Derek's shirt. "Da."

"Daddy's here," Derek says. "Papa too. You're okay, baby."

Stiles presses closer, letting Ryan feel both their heartbeats, knowing he'll be comforted by their scents. It doesn't take long for Ryan to quieten, little whimpers dying away as he squirms in Derek's arms, silently demanding to be put down. "That's my kid," Stiles smiles as Ryan determinedly crawls back to his blocks.

"Stubborn, with a refusal to let injury stand in his way? That sounds about right," says Derek, laughing when Stiles elbows him in the side. He catches Stiles around the waist and holds him close, kissing his cheek. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."