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“I can’t keep doing this. Not....not like this,” Stiles says abruptly, completely out of the blue, and Derek does a double-take, rewinds the words in his head and still has no idea what he’s on about.
There had been a time, nearly a decade ago, when their relationship was still fresh and fragile, when Derek would’ve immediately jumped to the conclusion that Stiles was trying to break up with him if such a sentence had been dropped. Since then, a lot of time has passed, their relationship has grown strong, he doesn’t doubt Stiles’ feelings for him anymore, and he knows that Stiles’ mind doesn’t work quite as straightforwardly as everyone else’s. Non-sequiturs are a matter of course for him, and he’s hardly ever talking about the obvious, about what everyone else thinks he’s talking about.
Also, they’ve been married for five years now and are presently watching their daughter flit to and fro in their backyard, so there’s no fucking way Stiles is talking about breaking up.
He’s probably complaining about the slow wifi (Derek will never understand why having to wait three seconds for a page to load causes Stiles such anguish) or having had t listen to Boyd and Erica’s sexcapades again because they still haven’t gotten around to soundproofing the walls (Derek should really get on with that), or possibly just bemoaning the relative absence of fast food in their life after their favourite pizza place shut down. Possibly all of the above. It’s impossible to tell without asking; even after twelve years of knowing Stiles, the inner working of his mind are still a mystery to Derek.
Derek sneaks his arm around Stiles’ waist, rests his head on his husband’s shoulder and smiles as he watches Laura racing over the soft grass, shrieking with joy as Isaac chases her. “Do what?” he asks.
“This,” Stiles repeats unhelpfully, making an all-encompassing gesture that could refer to anything and everything.
Derek frowns. “You will have to be more specific if you don’t want me to freak out over nothing.”
Stiles makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, a pang of almost tangible sadness coming off him, and Derek tenses. He wonders how he didn’t notice before; he’d assumed, foolishly, naively, that when Stiles grew a little less talkative, a little more contemplative in the past few weeks, it was because he was just caught up in memories of his mother, as he always is this time of the year, when the anniversary of her death reminds him of what he’s lost. Now he wants to slap himself for not seeing the difference, for not asking about it.
“What’s wrong?”
Stiles hesitates, draws in a deep breath. Uh-oh. “Will you give me the bite?”
Derek is stunned into silence for a moment. “What?” he splutters. In all the years Derek has known Stiles, he’s always vehemently refused to even consider the possibility of being turned. He draws back a little, levels him with an incredulous look. “Where the hell is that coming from?”
Stiles twitches nervously. “I can’t be a good father for Laura,” he says, quietly, resigned. “Not while I’m still human.”
“Bull,” Derek says, because that’s the only answer that’s appropriate. Or, you know, maybe not, but it’s still true. “Stiles, you’re the best father she could ever wish for, and you know that. Everyone knows that. Your humanity has nothing to do with your parenting skills.”
“It does when I can’t even keep up with you guys.”
Derek narrows his eyes at him. “You’ve never been able to keep up with the pack, physically. You’ve never needed to, and it’s never bothered you before.”
“Well, it does now,” Stiles retorts. “It bothers me that when Laura asks me to play with her, she has to hold back. I can’t even really play catch with her because she’s already so much faster than I will ever be, dammit, Derek, she’s strong enough to punch through a wall and she’s only four.” He shakes his head. “I can’t share her experiences of the shift with her, I can’t run with her on full moons, there’s just so much of what’s a huge part of her life that I’m missing out on. I don’t want to miss out on half of her life, I don’t want her to have to hold back around me just because I’m physically weak.”
Derek needs a minute or so to get over the perplexity the outburst has caused. “Stiles,” he says carefully, tangling their fingers together. “Being human is not a weakness and it’s not a liability. You know that better than anyone. In fact, it’s one of your greatest assets, which I know for a fact you’re also well aware of.”
“I’m not ashamed of being human,” Stiles says stiffly. “I just –“
“I know,” Derek assures him. “I also know you don’t actually want to be a werewolf.”
“I do - “
“Let me finish.” Derek cuts him off mid-word with a hand on his mouth, ignoring the glare Stiles sends him. He’s learnt early on that this is one of only two effective ways of shutting Stiles up. He generally prefers the other, but well, he can’t talk when he’s kissing Stiles, so this will have to do. “I get where you’re coming from. I do. But you completely disregard the fact that you can teach her things that I never could, because you’re human. She needs that, it’s important. And – stop licking my hand, Jesus, Stiles, I’m trying to make a point – most importantly, you’re forgetting the most fundamental truth that every parent should know.”
Stiles pries Derek’s hand of his mouth and raises his eyebrows. “And what, pray tell, may that be?”
“There’s only so much you can share with your child.” Derek shrugs. “Neither of us will be able to share everything with her. She’s going to make her own experiences that we’ll never be able to understand, werewolf or not. Jesus, she’s a girl, Stiles, at some point she’d going to get her period and you won’t be able to bond with her over that either, unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”
Stiles stares at him with wide eyes, looking torn between being horrified, like it only just occurred to him that their baby girl will grow up one day, and choking back laughter. In the end, he breaks down laughing. “Oh my God,” he wheezes. “I can’t believe you just used Laura’s future bodily functions as an argument. I can’t even believe those words left your mouth.”
“I had three sisters, and I had to put up with Erica for a long time. Trust me, talking about menstrual cycles and bloody sanitary pads doesn’t faze me anymore.”
“Clearly.” Stiles wipes his eyes. “Do you realise you basically just equated lycanthropy with menstruation?”
“I did not.”
“You kind of did.”
“Well,” Derek shrugs again, “the mood swings and bloodlust are common denominators.”
Stiles loses it again, laughing so hard he almost keels over. Derek feels a little proud.
He waits until he’s regained his breath and his shoulders have stopped shaking. “Stiles,” he says, “you’re perfect the way you are. Don’t ever think you’re not enough for Laura, or me, or everyone else, because you are. Becoming a werewolf wouldn’t make you more, that’s not how it works, and I know that humans can be great fathers for werewolves. You know my father was human, too, and it was good the way it was.” He squeezes his hand. “If you ever want to take the bite, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat, but I won’t if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons or because you’re thinking you’re worth less if you’re not like me. Think about it.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, and inhales deeply. “Okay.”