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"He's going to say Dad first." Derek didn't even look up from where he was balancing eight-month-old Eli on his hip. "He'll say Dada," Derek corrected automatically.
Across the kitchen, Stiles snorted. "Absolutely not. I've been putting in the work. He's going to say Tata."
John Stilinski leaned comfortably against the counter, coffee mug in hand, watching the debate with the patient amusement of someone who had already lived through this once.
"You two are both wrong."
Stiles pointed dramatically. "Excuse me?"
John took another sip. "His first word is going to be no."
Silence. Then Stiles laughed. "No."
"See?" John said smugly.
"I mean no as in you're wrong."
"I know exactly what you meant."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so sure?"
John smiled. "Because I've raised a Stilinski before."
---
Over the next several weeks, the competition became increasingly ridiculous.
Derek narrated everything. "Dada is changing your diaper." … "Dada made your bottle." … "Dada loves you."
Stiles refused to be outdone. "Tata is reading you a story." … "Tata makes the funniest faces." … "Tata is absolutely going to win this."
John simply watched.
Whenever Eli reached for something dangerous — "No."
Whenever Eli tried to chew the TV remote — "No."
Whenever he attempted to pull the tail of Ghost, their White German Shepherd — "No."
Whenever he crawled toward the stairs — "No."
Whenever he discovered electrical outlets — "Definitely no."
Stiles frowned one afternoon. "Dad...do you realize how often we're telling him no?"
John looked entirely unapologetic. "Yep."
"Doesn't that...I don't know...increase the odds?"
"It sure does."
"You're sabotaging us."
"I don't have to sabotage anything."
---
A week later, Derek found Eli determinedly emptying every kitchen cabinet. "No."
Eli looked at him. Smiled. Kept going.
"No."
More smiling.
"Derek!" Stiles called from the living room. "What's happening?"
"He doesn't respect authority."
"He respects gravity even less."
A saucepan crashed onto the tile. Eli clapped enthusiastically.
"No," Derek repeated.
John wandered into the kitchen at exactly the wrong, or right, moment. "Told you."
"We're still months away from first words," Stiles protested.
John shrugged. "We'll see."
---
At Sunday dinner, the topic came up again.
"So," Stiles said while spooning mashed sweet potatoes onto Eli's tray, "what was my first word?"
John didn't even hesitate. "No."
"...Seriously?"
"Yep."
"I don't believe you."
"You were about ten months old."
Derek looked interested. "What happened?"
John grinned, settling into storytelling mode.
"You had just learned you could shake your head."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"I don't like this story."
John ignored him. "I asked if you wanted peas…No. I asked if you wanted carrots…No. I asked if you wanted your bottle…No."
Stiles buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, my God."
"You spent three straight days saying no to everything."
Derek laughed outright. "I can picture that."
"It gets worse."
"It always does."
John nodded solemnly. "I asked if your diaper needed changing."
"...No?"
"No," John confirmed with a chuckle.
"I asked if you wanted to go outside…No. I asked if you wanted to stay inside…No."
Derek was laughing hard enough now that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "You eventually learned yes, right?"
John shrugged. "Eventually."
Stiles pointed accusingly. "I was a perfectly normal child."
John and Derek looked at each other. Then both started laughing again.
---
By nine months, Eli had become wonderfully opinionated. He frowned dramatically. Crossed his tiny arms. Huffed when things didn't go his way.
"He's definitely your kid," Stiles told Derek.
Derek looked at Eli, who was currently glaring at a banana because it had broken in half.
"I think he's both of ours."
Eli pushed the banana away.
"No," Stiles instinctively said.
John, who had stopped by to drop off a toolbox Derek had forgotten at his house, froze.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"You."
"What about me?"
"You say no just as much as I do."
"I absolutely do not."
John raised one eyebrow. "You just told me no."
"...That doesn't count."
---
They tried encouraging other words.
"Dada," Derek would say. "Daaaa-da."
"Tata," Stiles answered. "Ta-ta."
Eli would grin at both of them. Then blow raspberries.
John remained infuriatingly confident. "I've seen this movie."
Stiles folded his arms. "You're projecting."
"I'm experienced."
"You're old."
"I prefer 'wise.'" John replied as he brushed imaginary dust off his pants.
---
The moment happened on an ordinary Wednesday morning. Which, John would later insist, proved his point. "The important moments never announce themselves."
Stiles was making pancakes. Derek was cleaning up blocks that somehow covered every square inch of the living room floor. John had stopped by on his day off with a bag of fruit from one of his neighbors for Derek as thanks for cleaning up a broken tree in her backyard.
Eli sat on the rug surrounded by toys. One of them was a stuffed wolf. Another was an old toy police car John had dug out of storage.
Eli reached toward the coffee table. On it sat Derek's truck keys.
Tiny fingers stretched.
"Eli," Derek warned automatically.
John smiled into his coffee.
Eli stretched farther.
"No," Derek said.
The tiny fingers kept reaching.
Stiles looked over from the stove. "Eli..."
"No," John added.
Eli looked at all three adults. He frowned. He drew himself up with every ounce of baby determination he possessed.
Then he clearly announced, "...No."
Everything stopped. The pancakes burned. Derek froze. John's grin became absolutely unbearable.
Stiles blinked. Silence.
Eli looked delighted with himself. He slapped both hands against the floor. "No!"
John pointed triumphantly. "I CALLED IT!"
Stiles stared at his father. "...Did he just say what I think he said?"
"He absolutely did."
Derek slowly sat down on the couch. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."
"No!" Eli repeated proudly.
John burst into laughter.
---
For the rest of the day, everything became a test.
"Eli," Derek said carefully. "Dada?"
Eli smiled. "No."
Stiles sighed. "Tata?"
"No."
"Do you love me?"
A huge grin. "No."
"Ouch."
John couldn't breathe from laughing so hard. "I warned you!"
"You cursed us!"
"I predicted accurately."
"No," Stiles muttered.
John pointed. "There it is again."
---
The next few days only made things worse. Or better.
Depending on who was judging.
"Eli, time for lunch."
"No."
"Bath?"
"No."
"Nap?"
"NO."
Stiles rubbed his temples. "He's discovered free will."
John nodded proudly. "So did you."
"I didn't say no this much."
John just looked at him.
"...Fine."
---
Fortunately, babies learned quickly. Within another week, Dada appeared.
Derek pretended not to get emotional.
"I think he meant the couch," Stiles teased.
"He absolutely meant me."
"Dada."
Derek melted completely. "See?"
John smiled. "I'll give you that one."
Two days later came, "Tata."
Stiles gasped dramatically. "Did you hear that?"
"I heard."
"He loves me best."
Derek rolled his eyes. "That's not what that means."
"It absolutely is."
"No," John deadpanned.
Everyone laughed. Even Eli.
---
Months later, the family gathered in John’s backyard for a barbecue.
Eli had graduated from crawling to enthusiastic, slightly wobbly running. He barreled toward the flower beds.
"No running through Grandpa Sheriff's flowers," Derek called.
"No!"
Eli changed directions instantly.
Derek blinked. "...He listened."
"He understands the word now."
"Ironic."
John chuckled. "Very."
Eli toddled over to Stiles instead.
"Tata!"
Stiles scooped him up. "Hi, buddy."
"Dada!" Derek joined them, receiving equally enthusiastic grabby hands.
John watched his grandson bounce happily between both fathers.
"So," Stiles said. "You were right."
"I know."
"I still don't like it."
"I know."
"But..." Stiles smiled down at Eli. "...it is kind of funny."
John laughed. "I've been waiting almost thirty years to win this argument."
"You've been waiting thirty years to tell me 'I told you so?'"
"Absolutely."
Derek wrapped one arm around Stiles while Eli nestled happily between them. "You know," Derek said thoughtfully, "there are worse first words."
"There definitely are."
John nodded. "And honestly?"
"What?"
"I think 'no' fits a Hale-Stilinski kid."
Stiles looked offended. Then he looked at Derek. Then at Eli, who was stubbornly trying to remove one tiny shoe while insisting he could do it himself.
"...Okay."
Derek watched their determined little boy wrestle with the impossible Velcro strap. "Yeah."
Eli frowned fiercely at the shoe. "No." The shoe finally came free. He held it triumphantly over his head. "No!"
John laughed so hard he nearly spilled his iced tea. "There he is," he said warmly.
"Our stubborn little Hale-Stilinski."
And somehow, despite all the teasing, Derek and Stiles couldn't have agreed more.
—
END.