Something In My Liberty—Pregnancy—Trope Bingo

Title: Something in My Liberty (The Prepared Mind #5)
Author: Claire Watson
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Genre: A/U, Pregnancy
Relationship(s): Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale/OFC
Content Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Trope Bingo #Pregnancy
I’m aware that the supermoon on the Spring Equinox was in 2019, not 2022. I’m taking 2019’s lunar calendar for my story, and I’m not sorry.
I cast Gugu Mbatha-Raw as Kamaria.
Beta: Grammarly
Word Count: 7,057
Summary: Stiles had always wanted a family. When he realised that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Derek, he’d expected they would either adopt, or he’d be the pack kids’ favourite uncle. Cora’s offer changed that.

---

Stiles had avoided Beacon Hills for six years, knowing that once he went back, it would be to stay. He used to think that he’d resent it, despite Danuta and Besi’s apparent contentment with their roles as Guardians.

Having finally allowed Beacon Hills to draw him back, he discovered that his worries about feeling trapped didn’t eventuate. Three years after accepting his place in the Hale pack, Stiles felt settled in a way he’d sometimes worried he’d never be.

In the decade since Derek’s return, the Hale pack had grown, slowly but surely. The house in the Preserve that Derek had built had a constant flow of pack members coming and going.

Beacon Hills was also starting to thrive again.

Isaac and his mate, Jemma, owned and ran a construction company that was gaining a name for itself. Jemma took care of the business and organisation, including marketing their services and hiring their workers, while Isaac put his degree in computer-aided design to good use.

Their daughter, Tori, liked running around the warehouse in her protective suit, complete with hard hat. She knew all the workers’ names and loved to bring them flowers and pretty pebbles and tell them off if she saw any of them not complying with the safety regulations that she’d been drilled in. She was the company’s darling, and Jemma credited her with their low staff turnover.

Boyd and Erica had opened a nursery just outside the border of the Preserve. It ostensibly served the ordinary people of Beacon Hills, but those that were supernaturally inclined could also find any number of rare and valuable magical plants. It was a delightful place, a gentle maze of pathways and tiny gardens thrumming with life.

At the centre was a charming grotto, surrounded by a koi pond with a cleverly made water feature. Stiles liked to spend a few hours meditating there each week, usually on Tuesdays because that was the day the nursery opened late.

Erica swore that Stiles’ presence was why their plants grew so fast and strong and had such a good reputation for survival. Boyd didn’t say anything but gave Stiles a key and kept him updated on the building’s security code to stop by whenever he felt the inclination.

The grotto was also where Stiles met with those who specifically sought him out for his talent with plants. His skill wasn’t widely known since his professors had done an excellent job of keeping his identity under wraps, but occasionally his talent was needed in an unusual case. In those instances, Tomas, the master he’d initially apprenticed to, or one of his professors, would act as a go-between.

It wasn’t the most efficient system, but it was the best way for Stiles to remain out of the limelight.

Jackson had gone into partnership with Kira Yukimura, a thunder-kitsune he’d met at college. Their law firm, Whittemore & Yukimura, was starting to find its feet.

Until Stiles’ return, Kira had remained on the outskirts of the pack. Derek had done his best to make her feel welcome, and Jackson had been uncharacteristically encouraging. Still, Kira hadn’t felt truly comfortable in the Preserve until Stiles’ connection to the nemeton had been formalised.

Lydia worked as a consultant with various research organisations. She’d already begun to make a name for herself; her work had been credited in several published papers. Her most recent triumph was a collaborative research paper accepted for publication in the Journal of the American Mathematical Society.

Lydia spent half her time in Beacon Hills and the other half travelling. She and Jackson had discussed having children, agreeing that they would start a family when they turned thirty. By then, both intended to be well established in their careers.

Cora had finished at Albion and spent a year travelling the world with her girlfriend, Kamaria. Together, they visited out of the way places, Cora with her trusty camera, Kamaria with a sketchpad.

Cora’s images had been picked up and used by various tourism outlets; others were available for sale on her website. Since Cora didn’t need the money, she turned down the offered commissions, preferring to capture the images that moved her rather than be constrained by someone else’s vision.

Kamaria, who wasn’t a werewolf but was undoubtedly some supernatural being—one Stiles couldn’t place—wasn’t interested in selling her sketches, but she occasionally gave them as gifts. The first time Cora had introduced her to Stiles, Kamaria had gifted him with a beautiful picture of a green and gold dragon in flight, done in coloured pencil. The colours were vibrant and lush, and it looked so real Stiles almost expected it to fly off the paper.

Stiles had it framed and hung it in the small room he used as an office.

Danny was in an open relationship with Jordan Parrish, Derek’s deputy friend, who’d been revealed to be a hellhound. His company, Beacon Solutions, was a growing name in the software protection industry.

Beacon Solutions had started as a computer consultancy business providing tech advice and coding services. Danny had started out doing all the work himself, but after he’d successfully decrypted a ransomware attack on a moderately successful retail outlet, business flooded in. At that point, Danny sent offers to some of the more innovative and experimental CompSci graduates from Stanford and MIT and had built his company from there.

Danny was now able to pick and choose the jobs he personally handled and spent most of his time working on security for the Compendium, a collaborative website designed to help supernatural communities learn about each other in safety.

The Compendium was Peter’s brainchild, and Peter did the bulk of the work collecting the content. Within a year of it going live, it had become a staple of supernatural research.

With the Hale pack as solid and safe as it had ever been, Peter had taken a job with The Smiths. They’d sent him into various supernatural conflicts worldwide to assess the situations and act as a negotiator where necessary. While he was there, he gathered histories and stories, anything that various groups were willing to share with him. He then added them to the growing online database of knowledge that he’d decided would be his life’s work.

When Stiles had heard about this ambition, he’d eyed Peter narrowly. “I feel like I’m missing something here. Is that really chaotic enough for you?”

Peter affected a wounded expression. “Come now, nephew, why all this distrust? I’ve turned over a new leaf and want to be a force for good.”

Derek just sighed. “He’s pulling your leg; he just wants an excuse to travel all over the world on someone else’s dime. When the Smiths don’t have work for him, he pokes around in odd places and ‘extends the family repository’ with any interesting books he comes across. Some of them a very expensive.”

“I’m gathering priceless lore and expanding the family reputation,” Peter pointed out. “It’s only fair that the family should foot the bill. Besides, I’ve yet to spend half the money I’ve brought into the family coffers.”

Stiles was forced to concede but privately kept an eye on the local news wherever Peter happened to be to ensure there wasn’t some pattern of destruction that he just didn’t know about. Peter, troll that he was, soon heard that Stiles was keeping track of him. After that, he made sure to make it into the local paper at least once in each location.

Stiles pointed out how dangerous that kind of exposure was, both to Peter and the isolated supernatural communities he was visiting.

Peter laughed him off. “Don’t be such a worry-wart. I’ll be fine.”

Stiles almost wished Peter would be attacked by hunters just so that he could say, “I told you so.” Almost.

Noah was still sheriff, although not for much longer. It was common knowledge in the town that he intended to step down at the next elections, endorsing Derek as his hand-picked and trained successor. Given Derek’s popularity, he was unlikely to lose.

As well as his job with the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department, Derek was the co-founder and CEO of Hale Conservation, a non-profit organisation funded by the Hale family to care for the ecological health of Beacon Hills County. Its primary focus was on increasing the natural biodiversity of the town and the Preserve, caring for at-risk plants, animals, and habitats. Its other goals were sustainable, environmentally friendly housing and refurbishing the abandoned warehouse district, making it into a thriving commercial centre.

Stiles was officially employed by Hale Conservation as an ecologist. His magic, inextricably linked to the nemeton, already boosted the general health of the area and helped nurture some of the more fragile plant life that they were working with. Stiles kept a close eye on various micro-systems within the territory, crafting individual wards and protections as needed.

Each piece of magic was tied to the nemeton rather than each other, making it impossible for even the most skilled and sneaky intruder to penetrate the Hale territory’s heart without being detected, activating the defences.

As for his personal life…

Stiles and Derek were married and mated. Despite Stiles’ spontaneous proposal, they didn’t get married immediately, although it wasn’t what anyone would call a long courtship.

They started with a date. Stiles moved into the Hale house, right into Derek’s rooms, less than a month later. They’d sworn themselves to each other at the midsummer moon, becoming a mated pair. The ritual was performed under the shade of the nemeton’s branches, and they followed that up with a civil ceremony so that Stiles and Derek could become each other’s legal next of kin.

In the wider world, the aftermath of the curse Stiles laid when the Tods abducted him was still being felt. The hunting community had been shattered, with only a few sparsely scattered groups remaining; unsurprisingly, the ones with a reputation for following the hunters’ code. The oldest names in hunting—the Argents, the Calaveras, the Tods, to name only a few—had practically died out, their numbers reduced to almost nothing overnight.

Stiles’ role in the matter wasn’t widely known, but it wasn’t as well kept a secret as his regeneration of lost species was. Those that knew held him up as either a saviour or a monster, depending on the person’s perspective.

One extremist sect of druids accused him of destroying the balance and tried to have him killed more than once. Their second attempt led Stiles to discover that stonefish venom didn’t cause him lethal harm so much as get him high.

Unfortunately for the assassins, the Beacon Hills Nemeton and its Guardian Pack reacted to the murder attempts with equally lethal force. After that, Besi had her Shadow Squad take care of the instigators.

The assassination attempts stopped, but that they’d happened at all left Stiles uncertain and worried. The thought that he’d accidentally gone over to the dark side was concerning.

Stiles asked Gilbert, his old master, if he might have had done more harm than good. He could always trust Gilbert not to sugarcoat things to spare his feelings.

“Don’t listen to those Druid idiots,” replied Gilbert. “They got some stick up their ass that ‘the balance’ means some big good versus evil see-saw, where ‘good’ means anyone who tries to help other people and ‘evil’ is all those bastards who run around murdering and torturing innocents. That’s got nothing to do with the balance.”

“I didn’t think so,” admitted Stiles. “But then I got worried that I was rationalising things to myself. I mean, I’m sure all genocidal maniacs think that they did nothing wrong.”

Gilbert snorted. “If you’d asked me about that curse before you spoke it, I would have had you copying out the Divi theorem, cover to cover, twenty times. It should have killed you! Not because of kickback, but because no single person in the world has enough juice for something that big.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned.”

Gilbert made a rude noise.

Stiles sighed. “I know, I know, ‘unplanned curses are a fucking terrible idea and get you killed nine times out of ten.’ I was just so angry, and they were going after the Hales. Not because there were any suspicious deaths or anything; Beacon Hills had been peaceful for years. Just because they were hunter assholes and the Hale lineage is well-known and respected.”

“I know why you did it, kid,” said Gilbert, sounding uncharacteristically sympathetic. “Doesn’t not make it the stupidest thing I ever heard of. A curse like that is impossible.”

“Obviously not impossible, just improbable.”

“I’ve studied curses and blessings all my life. It was impossible. It’s so impossible that all three of the curse masters I’ve spoken to have agreed with me, and we don’t agree on anything!”

Stiles had to try not to snicker. Curse masters really didn’t get on with one another. Of course, curse masters generally didn’t get on with many people; it was just that non-curse masters were wary enough of them not to piss them off.

Gilbert either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Four different supernatural councils have contracted me to examine the curse’s strength and what would be required to break it. I’ll tell you what I told them. That, as much as you screwed up by trying to cast something impossible, the curse itself is a thing of mastery. It can only be broken by those who were cursed, and only if they fulfil the requirements. The curse’s ongoing activity is a testimony to the amount of innocent supernatural blood spilt over the centuries. That you can still walk around after the amount of death the curse claimed speaks for itself.”

Stiles let himself relax. “Thank you.”

Gilbert’s laugh was short and sharp. “Don’t thank me, kid. I’ve earned enough dough analysing this thing to be set for life. Plus, I’m going to go down in history as training you, so there’s my immortality sorted. Just…don’t do it again. Most people don’t survive a fuck-up like that, you know.”

“I know,” Stiles admitted. “I’d already committed myself before I realised that I’d left the wording too wide. I kinda expected to die, but then the Beacon Hills Nemeton joined in, and then the Boston Nemeton followed, and before I knew it, I was channelling more power than I ever believed possible.”

“Huh,” said Gilbert. “I guess if the earth itself got into the whole thing, that would explain it.”

“I didn’t know the earth could do that.”

“Neither did I, not for certain,” replied Gilbert. “It’s been theorised that the earth holds the memories of its children, waiting for an opportunity to purge itself. Plenty of people have tried to tap into it for their personal use and died horrific deaths. Perhaps you only succeeded because you weren’t trying.”

“It seems unlikely,” said Stiles. “That’s story-book kind of magic, not real-life stuff.”

“Well, if someone who graduated from Albion University thinks it’s unlikely, who am I to argue?” Gilbert’s sarcasm was cutting. “What the hell did they teach you in that fancy school you went to? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I’ve said my piece. Now leave me alone.”

Stiles had to be content with that.

With the hunter numbers so drastically reduced, supernatural communities throughout the United States had begun to tentatively make contact with each other in ways that had fallen to the wayside in the last couple of hundred years. Hiding in obscurity seemed less necessary, and before long, Derek was in discussions with other Californian packs to arrange a gathering on neutral ground.

Life was busy and fulfilling, and the future looked to hold more of the same.

The only thing missing was kids of their own.

Obviously, they couldn’t have kids together. Stiles had double-checked with his professors at Albion that there wasn’t any crazy male pregnancy option that werewolves and magic users had that wasn’t available to normal humans.

To their credit, they didn’t call him an idiot to his face, although their expressions certainly indicated that they were thinking it.

Since a mystical pregnancy was off the cards, Stiles and Derek were left with the options of adoption or surrogacy. Both avenues posed problems.

Adoption was a legal process. While it might technically be legal for Stiles and Derek to adopt, that didn’t mean the people at Social Services would make it easy for them. Also, the pre-requisite, being listed as foster parents, was problematic. If they were fostering supernatural children or had a permanent placement, revealing the supernatural would be fine. For anything less than that…no. And housing a child while keeping such a massive part of their lives a secret wasn’t an option either.

For surrogacy, one of the most significant issues was that their supernatural status would require any surrogate to be supernatural too, or at the very least supernatural adjacent. With supernatural surrogates, there came issues of territory, bloodlines, and rights to the child that would be tricky to navigate.

Historically, a male alpha with a male mate who wanted biological children would command one of his female betas to act as a surrogate for him. The beta would be elevated in the pack ranks, and any other children they had would be given status just below the alpha’s biological child. Which was all very nice and all, but it didn’t change the fact that the beta involved didn’t really have a choice.

Derek had no intention of being that kind of alpha, not that Stiles would have agreed to any such thing. After some discussion, they decided to move ahead on both adoption and surrogacy. Both looked to be long and involved processes, so it was good to get started sooner rather than later.

With the slow wheels of bureaucracy in motion, Derek and Stiles settled back to enjoy their lives, their pack, and each other.

v^v^v^v

Stiles was thrilled to get a call from Cora, explaining that she and Kamaria had agreed to hold a mating ceremony in the shade of the nemeton and asking Stiles to officiate.

Kamaria wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, but she made Cora happy, which was all Stiles and Derek cared about.

“I can’t believe the peripatetic Cora Hale is finally considering putting down roots,” Stiles teased. “Will the two of you want to live in the Hale house, or will you be starting on the property ladder?”

Cora scoffed. “Why on earth would we bother with our own place when we can mooch off my brother?”

Stiles was surprised by the lack of outward denial. “But you’re not ruling out settling down? Who are you, and what have you done with Cora Hale?”

“Mari and I have a few ideas, but we’ll need to talk them over with you and Derek before we make any concrete arrangements,” said Cora, refusing to explain anything further over the phone.

Stiles remained in a state of excited anticipation for the entire week leading up to their arrival, alternating between happiness for Cora and Kamaria and worry that he’d screw up and something would go wrong with the ceremony.

Derek took the news that his baby sister was getting werewolf married far more calmly than Stiles. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” he admitted when Stiles accused him of not caring. “It’s not that I don’t care; I’m glad she’s happy. But didn’t we expect this?”

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Stiles complained. “I don’t know why I married someone so boring.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“A man can’t be held accountable for the things he says in the throes of passion,” objected Stiles. “Fine. I married you because you’re the best cocksucker this side of the equator. You married me because…”

“Because I have a weakness for cute critters with big eyes and too much mouth for their own good. And because I wanted your dowry.”

Stiles squinted at him. “What dowry?”

Derek blinked innocently. “You’re right. There was no dowry. Forget I said anything. Hey, I just remembered that the lawn needs mowing.” He turned to go, stripping his shirt off.

“You can’t distract me with your naked hotness!” Stiles called after him. It was only as he was emptying the dishwasher that he realised that Derek had successfully distracted him from worrying about Cora’s ceremony.

That sneaky bastard.

v^v^v^v

The ceremony was beautiful and went off without a hitch.

Now officially part of the Hale pack, Kamaria finally revealed what kind of supernatural badass she was.

“I’ve heard of wyverns,” said Stiles, rifling through his memories of the Supernatural Diversity class he’d taken at Albion. “Not much, though, given how secretive you are. Is there anything we should do to make you comfortable here?”

Kamaria shook her head. “We’re not much different than anyone else. Our secrecy over the last several hundred years has been primarily because of the increase in hunter numbers.” She raised an eyebrow at Stiles. “That issue looks to be solved, at least for the present.”

Stiles coughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well, glad to hear it.”

“So… Mari and I’ve been talking,” Cora began. “Despite neither of us being interested in being tied to one place long enough to raise a family, we still want to be part of the pack’s growth, and we’d like to experience motherhood. Mari suggested that there was a way we could all get what we want. Therefore… What are your thoughts about child-sharing?”

Stiles wasn’t sure he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. Was Cora offering to be a surrogate? Or was Kamaria?

Derek’s eyes widened. “You mean…share full parental rights?”

Cora nodded. “Mari’s clan do this thing where the children get raised as a group, and no one really pays any attention to who their parents are. I’m not sure I want that level of detachment, but a scaled-down version would work. I’d only want to be doing this with you two.”

“What exactly are you offering?” asked Stiles, trying to contain his excitement.

Cora squared her shoulders in a telling move. This meant more to her than her words implied. “Mari would carry Derek’s child, and I would carry yours. That way, both infants have Hale blood, with all the advantages that will give them. Mari and I don’t want to relinquish our parental rights, but we’re happy to let the two of you do the bulk of the parenting. We want to keep travelling the world, so we’d make Beacon Hills our home base and ensure we spend time here in between trips. I’m thinking at least three months of the year.”

“So, the kids would have four parents,” said Stiles. “Two moms and two dads.” He didn’t mention how much he liked the thought that there would be babies. As an only child, he’d often wished he’d had at least one sibling.

“We could use the northern wing of the house as joint living space,” suggested Derek. “Knock a door into the wall between the two apartments.”

“Wait,” said Stiles, “we should probably talk it out a bit more before making alterations to the house.”

Derek shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? It solves all our problems.” He paused. “I thought you wanted to have kids.”

“I do!” exclaimed Stiles. “I just don’t think we should rush into anything.” He turned to Cora. “It’s not that I don’t trust you; you know I do. But taking a step this big requires some thought.”

Cora nudged Kamaria with her elbow. “I told you he’d want to talk about it. He probably wants a written contract.”

Kamaria rolled her eyes. “How shocking that you can predict the behaviour of your best friend so well.” She looked directly at Stiles. “Cora said that a lot of your hesitation would be about the possible conflicts of raising a wyvern hybrid.”

“Cora is a blabbermouth,” muttered Stiles. He sighed. “But yes, she’s also—on this occasion—correct. Not about the contract; I don’t think we need to involve human legalities. Maybe an oath? A promise that we come to the arrangement in good faith and that we’ll put the needs of the children first?”

Kamaria cocked her head to one side. “I don’t see a problem with that.” She glanced between them. “Cora and I have already made our decision. Why don’t we leave the two of you to discuss it? You can tell us your answer when we get back from visiting my clan.”

“We’ve had the werewolf mating ceremony, but wyverns have their own marriage ceremonies,” Cora explained. “I would have invited you, but they’re not keen on outsiders.”

Stiles wasn’t the least bit offended. Rare supernatural creatures that didn’t learn to value their privacy above everything else risked getting wiped out. “I can understand that. Can we send them a gift? Something that will acknowledge our new ties and our happiness with your union without pressuring them?”

Kamaria shrugged. “My people are mostly self-sufficient. We’re a little bit like dragons in that we’re fond of shiny things, but it doesn’t need to be expensive or gold, just shiny and pretty.”

“I’ll find something,” Stiles promised. “What time is your flight?”

Finding something pretty and shiny in the limited amount of time available gave Stiles something to concentrate on. When he waved goodbye, Kamaria carried a well-cushioned glass sculpture that Stiles had admired for some time.

It was enormous and impractical, but very shiny.

v^v^v^v

Despite his initial enthusiasm when Cora proposed sharing parenthood, when given time to think, Stiles immediately started worrying that things wouldn’t be as simple as they sounded.

Even with Cora and Kamaria’s assurances, the idea that they would be willing to leave the bulk of the parenting to Stiles and Derek seemed naive. What if they changed their minds? What if he and Derek got all invested, and then Cora and Kamaria wanted to keep the babies to themselves?

What if they had fundamental disagreements on how the children would be raised, tearing apart their family, friendships, and even the pack in the process?

Unlike Stiles, Derek was optimistic, sure that everything would go well. “You’ve known Cora for years,” he pointed out. “When did she ever come across as someone who looked forward to raising kids?”

“You really think it’ll be okay?” asked Stiles. “I just don’t want us to rush into it and then find out it was a mistake.” He laughed ruefully. “We haven’t even agreed yet, and I’ll already be devastated if it falls through.”

“I think it’ll be better than okay,” Derek assured him. “It feels right.”

“Then I’ll trust your instincts,” said Stiles, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Derek’s.

“You always did like to live dangerously,” murmured Derek. “So, I’ll get the work done on the house, and we’ll tell Cora and Kamaria that we agree?”

“Yes.” Stiles finally allowed himself to consider what the offer truly meant. “We’re gonna be parents! There’s going to be another generation of Hale-brows to scowl at the world!”

“They’re just ordinary eyebrows,” objected Derek in the long-suffering tones of someone who’d had this argument before.

“You keep telling yourself that, Sourwolf.”

v^v^v^v

Having obtained the agreement they’d hoped for, Cora and Kamaria wasted no time putting their plan into action.

“Why wait?” said Cora when Stiles asked what the rush was. “Mari and I aren’t getting any younger, you know. By the time Talia was my age, she was a mother of three.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Cora shrugged. “I don’t know. It was the sort of thing my mom used to say to Peter. ‘When I was your age, I was already married. You’re going to end up old and alone if you don’t make an effort to find a mate.’”

Stiles blinked. “Wow. I know I’ve said this before, but your mom sounds like a bitch.”

“She was,” agreed Cora. “And Laura was a total mini-me. I don’t really miss either of them. I mean, I would never have wished them dead, but I’m more broken up about my dad and my cousins than my mom and my sister.”

Stiles never knew how to respond to Cora when she was in this mood. He missed his mom every day.

Cora didn’t appear to need a response from him. “Mari and I have done the math, and next Sunday should be adequate.”

Stiles felt like he’d been derailed. “Adequate for what?”

“For conception. You and Derek can do what you need to do,” Cora wrinkled her nose in distaste, “then bring the stuff next door to us. We’ll do what we need to do; then, we wait a week to see if it worked. If not, we’ll do it again next month. Rinse, repeat, until we get pregnant. It probably won’t happen right away, but there’s no point in wasting time.”

“I’ll need to check with Derek, but I don’t see a problem with that.” Stiles could confidently predict that Derek would be thrilled at the prospect. From the moment he and Stiles had agreed to accept Cora and Kamaria’s offer, he’d been getting ready for their family to increase. No doubt he’d look on the gestation period as an unfortunate necessity rather than bonus preparation time.

v^v^v^v

Despite Cora’s expectations, she and Kamaria fell pregnant on the first attempt.

Stiles didn’t know for sure—the communication between him and the magical tree wasn’t precise enough for that sort of information—but the general smug feeling the nemeton radiated during the entire pregnancy made him a little suspicious about the timing.

Kamaria’s pregnancy proceeded with no drama. Kamaria hardly even seemed to acknowledge her gravid state; she just went about life as usual. Cora, on the other hand, made it clear from the start that she intended to milk her condition for all that it was worth.

Stiles didn’t even mind. He was so over the moon about the whole thing that none of Cora’s demands phased him at all. He indulged her so happily that she soon grew bored with it and only bothered him when she really wanted something.

When the dual pregnancy was announced to the pack, there was much celebrating. It wasn’t as if it were a big secret—partly because werewolves were pros at noticing the signs and partly because Derek’s sudden interest in learning everything about the stages of pregnancy wasn’t subtle—but the official announcement was greeted with cheers and congratulations.

The discovery that Cora was carrying twins was more of a surprise.

Erica and Boyd threw them a party. Lydia flew back from wherever she was—Zurich, if her passport was to be believed—and hosted a baby shower. Isaac and Jemma’s daughter, Tori, was fascinated by the idea that babies were growing in her aunts. She was usually rather rambunctious but would sit quietly with Cora and Kamaria and listen to the fluttery sound of the babies’ heartbeats.

Noah was thrilled to hear that he was getting three grandkids instead of two, even though it meant an adjustment to the cradle he’d been working on since Stiles had explained what was happening. He doted on Cora and Kamaria equally, to both their surprised pleasure.

The midwife they chose was one of the temporary Emissaries sent to them by the Smiths. Choosing someone from outside the pack to attend to pregnant pack members was always risky, but as soon as Cora saw Ava’s name on the list of options, she’d relaxed.

Derek was happy, too; Ava had attended Jemma with Tori, and everyone had been pleased with how that had gone.

As the pregnancies progressed into March, well into the third trimester, Kamaria became ever more zen, and Cora ever more irritable and annoyed with the world in general and Stiles in particular.

Kamaria was due on 24 April. Cora was technically due then as well, but because she was carrying twins, the projected date of birth was probably closer to 27 March, which was a week after the full moon. Stiles wasn’t the only one who thought that sooner rather than later was a good idea.

“This whole thing was your plan,” Stiles reminded her one afternoon when she was especially cranky. Derek had driven Kamaria into Yuba City to pick up some art supplies and not at all to get away from Cora’s uncertain temper for a while. “I’m not sure how you can justify calling it my fault.”

Cora scowled at him. “I’ll blame you if I want to. I have to go pee; get me a beetroot juice.”

Beetroot juice was something she’d discovered at Albion, and it had become her favourite drink. It was Stiles’ private opinion that she just liked how well it stained things on those occasions when she ‘accidentally’ knocked the glass over about three-quarters of the way through.

By the time she was back, Stiles was halfway through juicing the beets, apple, and ginger that went into her preferred blend.

“You know that the full moon tomorrow is a supermoon?” said Stiles, hoping to distract her as she tried to settle herself back on the couch. “It’s a pretty big deal that it’s rising on an equinox. There’s a standard full moon on an equinox every nineteen years or so, but for it to be a supermoon? That’s pretty special.”

Cora grunted. “Your two hellions seem to think so, too; they’ve been doing all kinds of gymnastics these last couple of days. I think they take it in turns to pummel my spine.”

Stiles brought Cora the juice and ran his hand over her abdomen—she’d given him blanket permission to touch whenever he wanted—letting his magic radiate from his fingers. It manifested as a tingly warmth that both Cora and Kamaria claimed calmed and soothed the children they were carrying.

Stiles, who liked getting up close and personal with all three of their family’s unborn members, was only too happy to be woken at odd hours of the night so that he could settle the rambunctious little ones and allow their mothers some sleep.

He was a little less happy about the times Cora interrupted him and Derek when they were getting busy, but he didn’t feel guilty about that. Nor did Cora, actually.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Cora asked suddenly, distracting Stiles from his contemplation of her stomach. “Or will having four parents screw these kids up for life? God knows that growing up in a werewolf pack is different enough to make any kid feel isolated; won’t such an unusual parenting style just make it worse?”

“Hey,” said Stiles gently. “The most important thing is that these kids will know they’re loved. I know that people can be cruel, so there will undoubtedly be some attempts at bullying. But coming from a traditional two-parent home isn’t some magical bully deterrent either. I had two parents, remember? Didn’t stop Jackson from making me his punching bag for a while there.”

Cora laughed, sniffling slightly. “You’re right. I don’t know why I got so worried all of a sudden.”

Stiles shrugged. “Your hormones are all over the place; it’s to be expected.” He raised himself away from her belly to sit beside her. “Hey, remember that time I told you I wanted to climb Ben Nevis, and you asked if he went to Albion?”

Cora poked him. “Don’t remind me of embarrassing moments like that! What about the time you showed up to an exam twelve hours late because you mixed up 12.00 am and 12.00 pm?”

“I still sometimes get confused about which is which,” admitted Stiles. “In retrospect, I should have realised that they wouldn’t hold a Psych exam at midnight. I was just so tired and stressed from all the other exams; I figured it was just another way for them to pressure us.”

They laughed together, remembering Stiles’ shock and dismay at the thought of having to explain himself to Martha Monroe: Head of the Psych department and a stone-cold witch. Stiles had been lucky that she was in a good mood when he went to see her—he refused to speculate as to why and was absolutely sure it had nothing to do with the dishevelled state of the History professor as he’d left on Stiles’ way in—and she’d allowed him to take the exam late.

Cora sighed. “You know, out of everyone in the world I could have had this experience with, I’m glad it was you. I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone else. You never expect anything from me, and that’s been more valuable to me than I can say.”

“I know what you mean,” said Stiles. “It’s kinda weird, that I can be so comfortable with you while having such lusty feelings for your brother. I used to wonder what it would be like, you know, if you I got together.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought and saw that Cora did too. “As cliché as it sounds, you’re the sister I never had. My mom would have adored you.”

“Well, my mom would have loathed you,” replied Cora cheerfully. “You don’t follow rules that you don’t see the reason for, you make people earn your respect rather than offer blind obedience to a title, and you make the people around you think for themselves.”

“Once upon a time, I would have been crushed to hear that,” said Stiles, positioning himself so that Cora could lean on him and still have support for her back. “Then I found out just how much of a dick your mother was. Like Harris, only without the spittle.”

“Sounds about right,” agreed Cora. “Only…did Harris know that he was being an asshole? Cause I don’t think mom did.”

“Yeah, he knew. He enjoyed wielding the power he had over us. It was bearable, though, because we all knew it was temporary. If I’d had to deal with him while knowing that he’d be in a position of power over me my whole life… No. I’d either murder him when no one was looking or move to the other side of the country. Hell, the world.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation reminded Stiles of something he’d been meaning to ask Cora for a while now. “So, back when I met you at Albion, you told me that Derek didn’t know where you were. Why didn’t you want him to know?”

Cora sighed. “It’s hard to explain, and it’s all tied up with mom and Laura, and a bit with Derek, too. You know he asked me to take the alpha position? He said there was no one he’d trust more than me, that I would be good for the territory and the pack.”

Stiles winced. Okay, he could see where that would majorly freak Cora out. On the other hand, he could see Derek’s perspective as well. Cora had an air of strength and surety about her that came from learning to be self-sufficient at an early age. To Derek, feeling overwhelmed with responsibility that he’d never wanted or been trained for, passing the alpha spark to his sister would have seemed like the perfect solution.

“Not telling him where I was going… It was a knee-jerk reaction to my fear of being trapped here. Not that I don’t love Beacon Hills or the pack, I just…”

“Have wandering feet,” finished Stiles. “I get it.”

“You always get where I’m coming from.”

Stiles ran his fingers through her hair absently. “You know, we normally only get this mushy when we’re drunk.”

“I know!” Cora poked him. “I’m spaced out on pregnancy hormones. What’s your excuse?”

Stiles grabbed her finger before she could poke him again. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

Cora hummed her agreement. They sat quietly for a few minutes, Stiles still stroking her hair, before Cora groaned and heaved herself up. “Ugh, I swear my bladder must be the size of a pea.”

“Only a week to go,” said Stiles, hoping that the twins wouldn’t make a liar out of him. “Then I’ll be able to take over some of the nurturing.”

v^v^v^v

At around 7.15 am the following day, Cora’s waters broke. Contractions began almost immediately afterwards, and labour was established at around 9.00 am.

Although Ava had explained that the likely sequence of events might take anywhere from three to twenty-four hours, Stiles immediately called the pack and started giving orders.

Almost twelve hours after Cora’s first contractions started, Elaria Hale was born. Less than a minute later, Alessa Hale followed her sister into the world. As their first cries sounded, the nemeton’s joyous song crashed through everyone present, noticeable even to Kamaria, who’d never felt the nemeton’s overt touch before.

“An auspicious eve,” murmured Ava as she carefully tended to the newborns. “Under a rare, auspicious moon. What lies in store for you, I wonder? My blessings go with you, little ones.” She ignored how Stiles and Derek hovered over her as she wrapped the twins in the soft, thin cotton blankets that Danuta and Besi had gifted them.

The blankets were so thoroughly imbued with magic to promote good health, happiness, and feelings of safety that Peter had to personally carry them from Boston to avoid the delicate spellwork from being damaged by overhandling.

Cora and Mari watched from the bed that Mari had helped Cora rest on after the second birth. When Ava was finished, Stiles picked up Elaria, and Derek picked up Alessa and brought them over to their mothers, crowding together onto the bed.

Noah and Peter watched with tears in their eyes.

“That has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” said Noah softly. “I wish Claudia was here to see it.”

For once, Peter didn’t try to hide his emotions. “I can feel the nemeton rejoicing. The pack bonds are wide open, and… I’m happy. I never thought I could be this happy.”

Ava waved a camera. “Go on, join them. I’ll take a photo before I let the rest of the pack in.”

The nemeton’s triumphant song continued to soar over them as the Hales gathered together to celebrate their newest members.