Werewolf Cafe AU! Some stress relief drawing before class.
Stiles: Scott remember that awesome summer job I got, with super nice pay, the cafe in the woods?
Scott: er.. yeah?
Stiles: IT’S A WEREWOLF ONLY CAFE HOLY SHIT!
Scott: Stiles… have you been gaming again?
Please don't go, I'll eat you whole, I love you so. Please break my heart, but please don't go, I love you so.
"can you imagine the faces their children could make" (X)
In my headcanon the sheriff would love whatever Stiles would present him as a grandchild.
(original grandthing made by spaggel I just borrowed it)
GRANPA STILINSKI’S PRECIOUS ANGEL.
I was crying about this at work today and Spag had to send me fucking this:
"yeah, can you imagine first seeing him?"
And so, Stiles and Derek are not ready for parenthood and are totally freaked out by their weird son:
Derek’s quiet for a long time, staring blankly, before he eventually offers, “This isn’t what I expected.”
Stiles frowns down at the baby in his arms. “I know, right? They won’t take it back; I already asked.”
Derek leans over him, peering down at the weird little face. It’s unsettling how thick the baby’s eyebrows are. “Are babies born with teeth?”
"Not usually," Stiles replies. “His grody little snaggletooth is creeping me out."
"His everything is creeping me out,” Derek retorts, dropping into the chair at the side of the bed. “I’m pretty sure this is because you got possessed by that demon.”
"Aw, hell no," Stiles argues. “That thing was in me for like five minutes, tops. This thing - ” he nods toward the baby in his arms ” - you don’t absorb this kind of evil in five minutes. This is like ten years possession minimum.”
"What are we going to name him?"
"Beats me. Calling him after your dad seems kind of disrespectful to your dad, doesn’t it?"
Derek sighed heavily. “He probably would have found this hilarious. I told you my family’s cursed.” He squinted over at Stiles. “You sure it’s even a boy?”
"Dude, I’m not sure it’s even human,” Stiles replies. “Seriously, how come shit like this always happens to us?”
"Because the universe knows we’ll grin and bear it," Derek sighs again. “You sure we can’t send it back?"
"No," Stiles grumbles discontentedly, and straightens as his father steps into the room. He cradles the baby protectively to his chest; even if the thing’s weird as hell, it’s still his. “Whoa, Dad, before you pull out your gun and shoot the baby, I can promise you, with about ninety-percent certainty, that I did not give birth to a cave beast, even though it may look that way. And maybe this is our fault because Derek’s so fricken possessive of his jizz and refused to use a surrogate so we had to resort to black magic and give me a magical womb - so actually this is Derek’s fault, really - this is your grandson. Probably. We’re not too clear on the gender right now.”
The sheriff sighs, as he so often does when confronted with his son’s verbal onslaught, and holds out his hands, a silent give me the child. Stiles puckers his mouth and hands over his son and watches the sheriff’s face cycle through several emotions, ending, bewilderingly, on happiness.
"He’s beautiful,” his father croons, and Stiles looks over, bewildered, at Derek, who mouths He’s not lying. He looks just as perplexed as Stiles.
"Just wait until Melissa sees him," the sheriff says cheerfully, pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture.
"Yeah," Stiles agrees slowly. He’s already regretting having shown his father how to use the camera on his phone. “Just wait."
Newly Grandpa’d Stilinski show’s pictures of his most PRECIOUS OF ALL GRANDCHILDREN to who he’s interrogating so that if they look at the face of SUCH AN ANGEL they’ll confess and lead a good life.
THIS IS THEIR COME TO JESUS MOMENT.
Sorry, Spag, if the first one was stupid, then this one’s just idiotic. I’m going to bed. This is your fault.
They name it Herald. It was supposed to be Harold, after Derek’s grandfather, who Derek says was a weird old man and Stiles says that’s fitting, then, but Stiles was asleep when it came time to fill out the birth certificate and Derek couldn’t remember how to spell Harold, so he sounded it out.
So their kid’s name is Herald, but mostly they call him It. They don’t tell him it’s because they didn’t even know if he was human when he was born because he may be a little weirdo, but he’s their little weirdo, and they don’t want to stunt his mental health. Stiles almost tells him it’s because they loved The Addams Family, but then he thinks about how Cousin It was a weird thing covered in hair and maybe that’s not a great comparison.
It creeps them out. He is unnaturally silent, always with this bucktoothed little smile on his face that makes Stiles sure that he and Derek are going to be killed in their sleep. Stiles distinctly remembers playing hide and seek with him when he was young, Stiles and Derek crammed together in a cupboard and Derek mumbled, “I can’t hear his fucking heart,” and then It’s creepy little eye was pressed up to the crack in the door like the killer in a slasher fic and Stiles screamed like a little girl.
Still, they’re sad when he grows up and heads off to college. He’s still creepy; he’s got bad skin and his heavy eyebrows almost touch in the middle, but they kiss him on the forehead and say “We’ll miss you!” which is probably true. And when he drives off into the battered Jeep, Stiles says to Derek, “I think we just unleashed a hellion unto the world,” and Derek says, “Too late now.” And Stiles does miss him, up until a few days later when he goes to clean It’s room and finds a box of desiccated frog corpses under his bed.
They don’t hear from It that often, which isn’t unusual, nor unexpected. One time they lost him for a few days and Stiles found him sitting in the attic, perfectly still. He said he’d been counting heartbeats and neither of them really wanted to ask whose. Still, they miss him. Probably.
One morning Stiles goes downstairs and there’s a stranger standing in the living room. It’s near Christmas and he has a vague idea that It should be coming home soon, but he is not prepared for the sight of a handsome young man standing next to the Christmas tree. Stiles screams.
"That’s It," Derek says from behind him.
"Oh my god," Stiles says. “Where’d our ugly little boy go?" He’d told It once not to worry about his looks, that everyone starts out awkward. Look at your dad, Stiles said, pointing Derek. He had to grow into those stupid buck teeth and big ears, and It had turned his eyes on Derek and didn’t blink for five minutes. Stiles hadn’t really believed that It would ever, uh, grow into himself, but it appears he was wrong, because his weird kid has turned into a GQ model. “Just like his dad," Stiles says out loud, and Derek pushes him down the stairs.
BONUS PLOT TWIST: STILES WAS THE UGLIEST FUCKING BBY AROUND
I had to fly to Pittsburgh for Anthrocon. So this poor image was half way finished and hanging out on my hard drive for a few days waiting for me to steal some computer time to finish it.
inspired by 3x03 and Derek’s resignation in the face of death
“Like anybody’d care,” Derek mumbles, face turned away. Stiles makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat and Derek glances at him.
“Dude!” He says, voice annoyed and cracking, “do you know how like…fucking…boring it’d be around here if you died!” Stiles huffs, arms gesticulating wildly as he speaks. Derek gives him a look of disbelief, a tight scowl with something like hope burning at the edges.
“Seriously, who the hell would I engage in witty banter with,” he argues. “Peter?” He says it like an insult and the corner of Derek’s mouth quirks. Stiles grins at him, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the dude’s a worthy opponent but burying someone in a crawl space really puts a bit of a damper on the potential for a future relationship, you know?”
Derek still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but his body turns in Stiles’ direction, who shuffles forward a bit. “You’re kind of the sole reason I was a wanted fugitive for several months,” Derek points out.
“Okay, one…half of that was definitely Scott’s fault—“
“You’ve left me for dead,” Derek reasons.
“I felt bad about it!” Stiles shouts, but Derek is smirking now. “Besides, you slammed my head into a steering wheel!” Stiles reasons.
“You used my body as a form of bribery,” Derek argues.
“Punched me in the hand,” Stiles waves it in front of him, “It’s still bruised, I’ll probably have really bad tendonitis when I’m older, never be the piano player I’ve always dreamed. My hopes for the future have been crushed by your unwieldy wolf powers,” Stiles pouts.
Derek rolls his eyes, but his shoulders are less tense, the lines around his face smoothing out to something less harsh. There’s a long pause, Stiles scuffing the toe of his shoe on the floor beneath him, awkwardly.
“Look,” Stiles says, voice soft, contrite, “I know almost dying is sort of part of the whole,” he gestures between them,” job description, thing, you know?” Derek catches his gaze before Stiles drops his. “But just…just stop making decisions based on some asinine belief that no one cares, okay?”
Derek looks like he’s about to argue, and Stiles shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders. “Because I care, alright? Like…” he sighs heavily and flushes. Derek stares at him in stunned disbelief and Stiles feels his heart rate quicken, thumping loud in his chest.
“I’m not saying I want to be werewedded and raise your pups or anything, dude, just like…that it’s…you know it’s been…I mean it hasn’t sucked having you around or anything, lately.” Stiles’ hands fall listlessly to his sides and he sighs.
“I uh…” Derek clears his throat, stares at Stiles with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. Stiles blinks at him, rolls his eyes. “You’re…useful,” Derek offers. Stiles raises a brow and stares at him.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he clutches at his chest dramatically. Derek huffs out an annoyed breath and turns to walk away. “Dear Diary,” Stiles narrates, trailing after him, “Derek Hale almost made a nice. Tomorrow, I’m going to share my pudding cup with him and see if he expresses emotions.”
“Go home, Stiles,” Derek throws over his shoulder.
“Okay, but I know your physical intimidation tactics are really just your way of expressing your fondness for me,” Stiles shouts after him, “no use denying it.”
“And you like me more than my homicidal undead uncle,” Derek tosses back.
Stiles smirks, waits until he’s nearly out of earshot, “those would make wonderful vows.”
Several yards away, Derek smiles for the first time in weeks.
Because I imagine that this is how a great many of their conversations as a couple would go.