Work Text:
"You think the baby will like curly fries?"
"With the way you keep eating them, I'll be surprised if she doesn't turn into one."
"You are not as funny as you think you are, Babe, and besides...how do you know it's a she?"
"First of all, I'm hilarious,“ Peter said as he continued to rub Stiles's swollen abdomen. “Secondly, the mother's scent is always different depending on what the baby's gender is, so I'm fairly certain our bean is a girl...isn't that right, my little bean?"
Stiles shook his head fondly as his husband continued to talk to his stomach in a ridiculous manner. He'd been referring to their child as 'bean' ever since the Spark developed a coffee obsession in his second trimester. Peter loved to enable said obsession by constantly bringing him different latte concoctions (all decaffeinated, of course).
The man had been practically waiting on him hand and foot the entire pregnancy. It could be a little grating at times, since Stiles was so used to doing everything himself, but he understood why his Mate felt the need to do it. Peter had been denied the chance to raise his first child, so he wanted to be part of everything from the beginning for this one.
He went to all of Stiles's appointments (after tracking down a midwife specifically trained in the supernatural because they both agreed Deaton wasn't going to put his shady hands anywhere near their baby). He got the boy literally any craving he wanted at any time of day, including going to three different restaurants at one a.m. because Stiles wanted a 'taco spaghetti banana split'.
Peter even did all the laborious parts of building the nursery, while Stiles took the lead on its design. They went for a moon theme, with deep midnight blue walls covered in stars, and a silvery crescent moon decal arched elegantly above the crib.
The furniture was imported—because Peter refused to have his pup use anything subpar—and painted a subtle pearl gray. Everything about the room radiated quiet sophistication and warmth.
Except for the Millennium Falcon crib mobile Stiles insisted upon. The wolf had sighed loudly when it was shown to him, but since he is literally unable to tell his boy no on anything, he made sure it was bought and installed the next day.
Peter had been nothing short of the perfect partner, ensuring that they had everything ready for Bean's arrival and that Stiles had nothing to worry about.
Well, almost nothing...
"You know, we really need to come up with names soon, considering my due date is less than three weeks away."
"You've got a point, sweetheart, otherwise we'll just have to stick with Bean."
"Because that will definitely pair well with Stilinski-Hale."
"I suppose that would sound rather odd," Peter sighed before letting out an undignified giggle because a tiny foot kicked him in the face.“Do you have any ideas?"
"Hmm, it needs to be something that is a good mix of the two of us and still unique. Ooh maybe we could–"
"We are not naming our child after Star Wars characters."
"Awww, but Obi-Wan is such a strong name!"
The look Peter gave him had Stiles raising his hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I get the message! But don't think I haven't noticed all the hints you've been giving about naming her after your nerd obsession."
"Galadriel is far more sophisticated than Obi-Wan...but you're right, we need to come up with something we both agree on...which at this rate won't happen until Bean's in college."
"I wouldn't worry too much," Stiles said as he combed his fingers through Peter's hair.“We solve every other problem in this town, surely we’ll be able to settle on a baby name. I mean we've got three weeks to figure it out, that's plenty of time."
What they both failed to realize was that their Bean had a schedule of her own, and she wasn't going to wait much longer.
**********
Chris Argent sat in the Stilinski-Hale living room, papers and old tomes spread across the coffee table, as he and Peter went over research on the newest creature roaming the preserve. Stiles sat on the couch across from them, wrapped up in a blanket, hands resting protectively on his stomach while he watched the storm raging outside.
“It's starting to look pretty ugly out there."
Peter’s eyes flicked briefly towards the window before turning back to Chris.
"Stiles is right. You might want to spend the night here, Christopher. The road in and out of the preserve tends to get flooded during storms like this."
“Unless, of course, you're in a hurry to get back to my Dad," Stiles said with a smirk before wincing, "Jeeze Bean, you think you're doing enough summersaults in there?"
"She probably senses your anxiety about the storm," Peter said as he sat down next to Stiles and pulled him close, frowning at the black lines running up his arms, “Darling, are you in a lot of pain?"
"Nah, I'm good. Just a little sore because she's so restless. Now, Chris, about this thing with my Dad, am I gonna be calling you Pops sometimes in the near future?"
Before Chris could reply, a sudden, sharp crack of thunder rolled across the sky,and the lights went out. The dim glow of the fireplace was the only thing keeping them out of total darkness.
"I'll be right back, sweetheart," Peter whispered to Stiles before getting up and heading towards the door, "I’m going to go check the generator. Can you stay with him?"
Chris nodded and watched as the werewolf disappeared into the storm’s roar. He turned back to Stiles, who was absently rubbing his stomach again.
"Are you sure you're alright, Stiles?"
“Yeah, yeah, I'm great...just feels like Bean’s practicing a full gymnastics routine in there.”
Chris raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Stiles shifted uncomfortably, a low hiss escaping him as his knuckles whitened on the couch cushion.
“Okay, that—” Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, “that might have been more than just a kick.”
Chris’s eyes widened at the implication.
"Stiles…are you having contractions?”
“No! I mean… maybe? No. I’m fine.”
He tried to wave the man off, but the tremor in his hand betrayed him. Another tight squeeze clenched his abdomen, and this time he couldn’t hide the way his face screwed up in discomfort.
"You are not fine," Chris said as he kneeled down and put his hand on Stiles's swollen stomach, "you're going into labor."
“I—uh—no, no way. I can't be! We’ve got three weeks, she’s supposed to stay in there for three more weeks!”
As if on cue, another contraction rippled through, stealing his breath and causing him to nearly fall off the couch.
Just then, the front door slammed open, and Peter rushed in, drenched from the rain and eyes glowing electric blue.
"Lightning took out the generator. Phone service is out as well, so we won't be able to call for help for a while."
"We've got another problem," Chris said as he tried to help Stiles shift into a more comfortable position, "He's in labor."
"No, no, no, I'm fine, really, it's probably just those practice contractions...you know, the ones they call Braxton Hi-"
A sharp gasp tore out of Stiles, interrupting his desperate denial, as a sudden warm gush flooded the blanket beneath him.
“Oh, God—” he stammered, eyes wide as he glanced between Peter and Chris. “I think my water just broke!"
"With the phone service out, we can't tell the midwife to come here," Chris said as he tried to think of the best way to handle the situation, “I'm assuming we aren't going to be able to take him to her either?"
“The road’s already flooded,” Peter said, sliding an arm around his mate to help him up,"the supplies for the homebirth are upstairs, since that was our original plan, but I have no idea what to do, especially if something goes wrong."
"Luckily I do, so I'm going to help."
"Since when were hunters trained in delivering children?"
"Since I had to deliver Allison on the side of the road because Victoria went into labor on a Hunt. Now get him settled upstairs while I gather everything and get the fireplace going in the bedroom since I know you have trouble with that."
Stiles whimpered as Peter carried him up the stairs and down the hall. Another contraction hit, stronger and longer, and he buried his face in his mate's shoulder, breathing in the soothing scent of pine and rain-soaked wolf.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Peter murmured, voice low and desperate as he brought Stiles into their bedroom. He gently set him onto the bed where Chris had already spread out several towels, and started removing the boy's fluid-soaked pants.
"Peter, I'm not ready for this..."
"No parent ever is, my love, but she's coming whether we're ready or not."
"But...but what if I'm not strong enough?"
"Stiles Stilinski-Hale, you are the strongest person I know," Peter whispered,pressing a kiss to his sweat-damp hair,"You've taken down feral alphas, evil fox spirits, and literal ghost riders. I have no doubts about your ability to bring our child into the world."
Stiles took a deep, fortifying breath and laced his fingers through Peter's.
"Okay, let's do this. Let's go meet our Bean."
************
"I SWEAR TO GOD PETER IF YOU DON'T WRAP IT NEXT TIME YOU TAP IT, I'LL CASTRATE YOU!"
For two hours, Stiles alternated between crying about how much he loved Peter and cursing the man's very existence.
Peter, for his part, didn't let any of it phase him. He just continued murmuring encouraging words in his mate's ear, while holding his hand to drain as much pain as he could.
Then Stiles let out a string of expletives in Polish, and Chris wasn't sure what it meant, but judging by how pale the werewolf had gotten, it couldn't have been anything good.
Three hours after that, Stiles was finally ready to push. He clung to Peter’s hand, his breath coming in shaky bursts, while thunder rolled outside and the storm rattled the windows. Chris knelt between his legs and calmly guided him through each contraction.
At first, everything progressed as expected as Stiles bore down, groaning through the effort. But within minutes, Chris’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing.
“Something’s wrong."
Peter snapped his head toward him. “Wrong how?”
“The baby’s backwards," Chris said after making a careful examination of Stiles's abdomen. “If we don't do something soon, they'll both be in danger."
Stiles’s eyes went wide with panic, and Peter let go of the hand he was holding in order to cup his husband's face when he started to hyperventilate.
“Breathe, sweetheart, it's going to be okay. Christopher isn't going to let anything happen to you or our baby."
"I’ll need to manually turn her," Chris said once Stiles had calmed down a bit.“It’s uncomfortable, but it’s the only safe option right now.”
“You’re gonna—turn her? With your hands?! Nononono, I can't do it, I can't!"
"Darling, we don't have a choice, it's the only way to ensure Bean gets out safely," Peter whispered as he leaned Stiles back against him.“You’re going to be alright, I promise."
Stiles trembled, panting through the pain, before finally nodding.
"Okay...let's get this over with."
“Deep breaths, Stiles,” Chris said softly. “On three, I’m going to start turning her. One… two… three.”
A guttural sound tore from Stiles’s throat the moment Chris began. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced—deep, invasive pressure and pain sharper than any of the contractions had been. He arched against Peter, who nuzzled into his throat and kept encouraging him to hold on.
“Just a little longer, baby, you're almost there...you're being so strong for our girl right now...so strong..."
“That’s it. She’s halfway turned…"Chris said as he worked carefully."just a little bit more..."
Stiles let out another shout, then fell back in exhaustion as the final twist came, with Chris sighing in relief as the baby flipped into the proper position.
“Okay, Stiles, I want you to relax for a minute, wait until the next big contraction comes, then push as hard as you can."
Stiles nodded and took a deep breath. He clutched Peter’s hands as the next contraction hit and started pushing.
“I can see the head now, so you're almost there...take another deep breath and..PUSH!"
Stiles let out a shaky groan as he bore down, his entire body trembling with effort. After a few minutes, the head emerged, and Chris caught it in his hands.
"Alright, the hardest part is over. Give me one more big push, Stiles...just one more and you’ll be holding your daughter.”
With a cry that was equal parts effort and exhilaration, Stiles pushed with everything he had left. A sharp, burning stretch was followed by an overwhelming rush of relief as the bedroom filled with the tiny, indignant wails of their daughter.
“Congratulations,” Chris said softly, laying the baby on Stiles's chest so he could clean her up, "you have a beautiful, perfect baby girl."
Stiles looked down at the little red-faced bundle, tears flowing freely as he marveled at how tiny and perfect she was.
"H-Hey, Bean,” he whispered, voice breaking with awe and love, "fancy meeting you here."
"She certainly knows how to make an entrance,“ Peter said as he pressed a kiss into Stiles’s damp hair, "You did a good job, sweetheart, I'm proud of you."
“I couldn’t have done it if you hadn't been encouraging me every step of the way...I love you, Peter...so, so much."
And I love you, both of you, more than anything else in this world."
The power came back on a few minutes later, giving Chris a chance to cut the cord and deliver the placenta. Afterwards, he and Peter worked together to get everything cleaned up and make sure Stiles and the baby were warm and comfortable.
"How are you feeling, Stiles?"
"Like I got run over by a Mack truck, but otherwise fine, thanks to you. You're a real lifesaver, Chris."
“Anytime, kid, maybe hold off on scaring us like that for a while," Chris said before pulling out his phone and seeing several missed calls and texts. “Looks like phone service is back. I'll call your Dad and let him know what's going on."
He went to walk out of the room, only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. He turned around and was pulled into a bone-crushing hug by Peter.
"Thank you, Christopher...thank you for saving my family."
"You don't need to thank me, Peter. You're my best friend, always have been...I'm just sorry it took me so long to remember that."
They pulled apart, and Chris patted him on the shoulder before heading downstairs. Peter went back over to the bed and eased in next to Stiles, who was staring out the doorway with a contemplative expression.
"You've got that look on your face you get when you solve something on your crime board. What's on your mind, Darling?"
"I'm pretty sure I just found the perfect name for Bean," Stiles said, whispering the idea into Peter's ear. “What do you think?"
"I think it's absolutely perfect. When do you want to tell him?"
"Tomorrow, right now I need to crash."
Stiles fell asleep not long after that, while Peter settled in to keep vigil over the two most important people in his life.
***********
The following morning, after the storms had passed and the roads were clear, the midwife arrived along with the Sheriff. She left a little bit later after giving Stiles and the baby a clean bill of health, getting a ride back to town with a deputy so Noah could stay and cuddle his new granddaughter.
"You sure made one beautiful baby, son...even if she does look just like Peter."
"Hey! There's some of me in there too!"
"The hair and the nose, maybe, but the rest of this kid is all Hale."
Stiles muttered something under his breath about "nine months of suffering and you look like your stupid dad," and it took everything Peter had not to laugh at his mate.
"So, did you two finally decide on a name?"
Peter and Stiles looked at each other before turning towards Chris and Noah.
"We have, her name is Christine Noelle Stilinski-Hale, after her Godfather and Grandfather."
Chris's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"You–you really want to name her after me? And make me her Godfather?"
"Of course, it's because of you that she made it into this world safely, after all."
"Besides, you're already my stepdad, might as well claim the other titles too."
"Stiles," Chris sighed in fond exasperation, “I can't be your stepfather...your father and I aren't married."
"Not yet."
"I don't think he plans on asking me anytime soon."
"Of course I do, I was just waiting until after the baby got here," Noah said as he handed Christine back to Peter, “what do you think that black box in the back of my squad car is for?"
Chris stood frozen for several seconds before grabbing Noah and hauling him into a very passionate kiss. Stiles complained that his innocence was being corrupted, while Peter just shook his head and looked down at Christine, who was staring back up at him with big blue eyes that occasionally had flashes of gold.
"Welcome to your slightly unhinged family, my little Chrissy Bean, you're going to love it here."