#tw fix-it

So, of course, Stiles notices the movement and his eyes shutters.

"No. Don't do that again. This wasn't your fault, okay?"

They're sitting face to face on the bed at a hotel in a random ass town, far away from Beacon Hills, far away from everything that could ruin them. And yet Stiles is broken at the meagre survival of what Derek has brought from that town.

Somedays, Derek wonders how he could have stayed there all these years. And then he remembers the way Stiles lights up when he talks to his dad, alive and doing well, all thanks to Derek keeping a close eye on him.

There's more than one reason he took up that consulting job at the Sheriff's Station.

"Stiles. It wasn't your fault. It was Scott's idea to give the jar to Liam and his new pack member, even after you told him no. You did what you could, and you know I did too. Do you blame me for it?"

Stiles cups his face, and Derek lets him. "No, never!"

Derek takes Stiles' hands in his again, kisses the tightly-gripped knuckles. "I love you," he tells his husband sincerely, "But sometimes you're an idiot. None of this was your fault, alright?"

Stiles smiles a little at that. Derek counts it as a win.

Stiles' voice, when he speaks, is soft and desperate. "They'll believe it?"

Derek isn't the biggest believer in the world, in anything, but he has trust in one person: Stiles Stilinski-Hale.

"It was your idea to fake my death. I don't know how exactly you did it, or roped Parrish into it, or even how much magic you used to make everyone see what you wanted to — but you did it. So, yes, my love, I know that they'll believe it."

Stiles laughs, watery and lovely, and Derek pulls him in his arms, kisses him and keeps kissing him until Stiles is pulling away, giggling and breathing out a, "Keep your hands away, Hale! It tickles!"

Derek just grins and leaps to tickle him more, and Stiles stays, because he knows the pain Derek is in and Stiles has never abandoned him anyways.

He won't start now.

*

Convincing Eli of the plan was the hardest part, given the fact that he had to see his dad burning even though that actually didn't happen, but now that Derek sees his pup and his husband cuddle up on the couch together like this, Eli's head on Stiles' lap and Stiles' eyes gazing down lovingly at their sleeping child, Derek decides this was worth it.

Lying to John, the pack, and staying away from Stiles was worth it, just for this moment, and the countless others they'll have moving forward.

A thought occurs to him, and he snorts. Stiles looks up at him, eyebrow raised, and he can't help but whisper:

"They really thought I'd let Scott and Allison raise my pup?" Having Eli wear Scott's jersey was more than enough. Eli hated it, he wanted to wear his Tata's jersey, but he's always been smart and he knew from young that his fathers have a secret that needs to be kept.

Eli really is Stiles' kid.

"They're idiots. They believed that I was too busy to come to my dad's rescue, so. And not to mention that they think I just abandoned Roscoe! Like, seriously, guys? And then they claim to be my best friends."

Stiles' increasing volume has Eli waking up, so Derek takes the place next to Stiles, Eli's legs on his own lap even as their pup's eyes flutter shut again to Stiles' polish lullaby.

"Hell, Lydia knew Eli knows Polish. I thought she'd figure us out soon, and nearly two decades later, she still hasn't."

"Yeah." Stiles gnaws on his lip, turns to look at him. "Let's not talk about them, okay? This is just us. Just us like it was always supposed to be, my heart."

Stiles leans in to kiss him, and he does too.

Eli wakes up in the middle of it, his fathers touching their foreheads and kissing each other in turns, and promptly decides to head out after flailing to be let out of their embrace.

"I'm taking the jeep!"

"You better be careful, then!" Stiles shouts, and Eli responds with a salute and disgusted face.

Derek laughs and laughs, and feels the most alive he's felt in a long, long time. Ironic, considering he's had to fake his death to achieve this.

Stiles pokes him in the stomach then, goads him with his eyes.

"Since we are alone now... and considering the last time I saw you was on that fake Mechanic Convention you made up exactly seven months ago..."

Derek's eyes are red and he's picked up Stiles before the sentence can be completed.

"GROSS! EW, EW, EW!"

"Get out of the hearing distance, kiddo," Derek whispers, and then there are no more words spoken. It's only him and Stiles, and one very recognizable screech from the jeep.

Eli better not be home soon.

Especially because...

"Oh, fuck, fuck. I love your alpha eyes, my Alpha. Can't believe they even missed this, the aura of power you give off — well, except Peter because he's —"

"Can we not talk about my uncle while I'm trying to fit my cock in you?"

"Right, right, right. I just- they're idiots. The real alpha was among them, and they still- whatever. I'm glad. You're mine, alright, only mine."

...he gets to watch Stiles come undone before him, like this, mouth open, eyes shut, face slack in pure bliss. He gets to hear Stiles call him his, he gets to claim Stiles as his own, watch his body as he loves and bites and worships Stiles' body, Stiles' existence.

He gets to be with Stiles.

The past fifteen years were rough and unbelieving, but he knows in the heart of his hearts that it was the last sacrifice he had to make.

In return, he gets this: Stiles in his arms, Eli's I'm watching a movie, be back as soon as it's clear, and John's you better be with Stiles right now, and Eli best be with you, Hale.

Well. Perhaps John wasn't fooled — he knew. But that's to be expected.

Stilinski’s are smart.

And he gets to have and love three generations of them.