I’ve read a fic in which Stiles declares his love for Derek, but Derek pushes him away to protect him so Stiles is very upset and leaves. When he wakes up in the morning he’s married to Lydia in the future and is desperate to fix things w/Derek (in the past). That got me thinking about your headcanon of Stiles and Derek, like if Stiles being in a relationship with Lydia to try and move on from Derek, would have made Derek make a move and fight for him? Like how would have Derek reacted?
I would not have put the three of them in this scenario, I think, because these are three characters I like things to work out for in fics, and in this scenario, someone is going to lose.
Honestly, the only way I would ever write this is if I was going for Strawberry Sterek.
Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t read it–it sounds angsty and right up my alley!
And I honestly think that Derek would be the type of person to brood about it spectacularly for a while, then attempt to move out of town so he could go and die alone and unhappy. Because there would always be a part of him that would think he could never compete with Stiles’s teenage fantasies of Lydia.
Of course, in my Strawberry Sterek version, Stiles is getting increasingly upset with Derek pulling away from him–Derek is supposed to be his friend now!–and Derek isn’t telling anyone what’s wrong, so Lydia sticks her nose in, seduces a very surprised Derek with her enormous brain–and the rest of her doesn’t exactly hurt either–then tells them both they’re idiots, and if they’re in a triad then at least she knows they’ll have someone to look after each other when she’s away being magnificent at math conferences.
*slides into your askbox* how aboutttt, sterydia and 27? If that's okay? :D
27. “I’m pregnant”
Lydia hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. Her feet are starting to go numb, the cold ceramic toilet seat cutting into the backs of her thighs. She doesn’t move though, phone held limply in one hand, pregnancy test in the other.
Two pink lines stare back at her.
They weren’t trying.
It’s not like it was a never or anything. Derek loves kids and Stiles pretends to hate them, and Lydia has always seen it as a some day. Apparently some day became today.
She doesn’t know how to cope with this. She’s coped with so many things, from losing her best friend to graduating MIT summa cum laude and landing a job at a top secret government research facility. She’s fallen in and out of love, until finding the best of it with Derek and Stiles.
It’s Derek’s.
She doesn’t know how she knows, except she can feel it deep down. Maybe it’s banshee senses or something. Which… that’s kind of morbid to think about. But maybe it’s werewolf senses, this little supernatural baby already growing inside of her. Derek will be thrilled, she knows that too, knows it better than she knows her own name.
Stiles will be over the moon. He won’t be jealous, she doesn’t think. They talked about it one time, way back in the beginning, when Lydia and Stiles had drank too much wine and tried to figure out what was happening between them. Somehow they had gotten onto the subject of how things would work if this thing they had stayed strong. Stiles didn’t want kids. Or he did, but he was scared of passing on the sickness that had taken his mom. It was hereditary after all. He would love this baby as if it was his own.
So there’s really no reason that she should be hiding in the bathroom. Sure, it’s unexpected, but it’s not like they can’t handle it, the three of them, together. But the truth of the matter is, Lydia is scared. What if she makes a horrible mother? Nurturing has never been her forte. What if she turns into the mean parent? The one who makes all the rules and deals out punishments and is never soft and warm? What if she can’t be good enough?
“Lydia,” Derek’s voice is soft on the other side of the door, and she can picture him leaning against it, listening to her breathe. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” she croaks, voice sticking in her throat. Derek cracks the door open, concerned eyes searching her face. “I’m uh,” she shrugs, tears running down her face even though she smiles through them. “I’m pregnant!”
Derek’s grin is like the sunrise, slow and beautiful and all encompassing. He steps into the bathroom, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly. “I know,” he murmurs, lips curving into a smile as a squawk and the sound of bare feet slapping on hardwood echoes down the hallway.
“Did I just hear-” Stiles bursts into the bathroom, half tripping over the shower mat and catching himself on Derek’s shoulder. Ever the detective, his wide amber eyes flick to the pregnancy test in her hand, face splitting into a grin. His mouth opens and then shuts, then opens again, apparently lost for words for the first time in fifteen years.
He finally gives up, swooping in and kissing Lydia, open mouthed with too much teeth. She can’t help but laugh into it, her fears melting away as Derek’s arms wrap around both of them, warm and safe.
“Wow Lyds,” Stiles smirks at her, one arm around Derek’s waist, the other leaned against the wall in what she’s sure he thinks is a suave pose. “You’re really dedicated to the whole ugly sweater thing.”
Lydia narrows her eyes, looking from Stiles’ sweater (decorated with cats frolicking with balls of yarn), and Derek’s (that has reindeer fucking on it… She really doesn’t think he’s realized what he’s wearing yet, his ears haven’t reached that endearing shade of pink yet) and then down at hers. It’s normal, just a holiday sweater she’d picked up in the men’s section at Kohl’s. It’s green and gray, with a bright red reindeer right over her heart. She thought is was cute.
“It’s not ugly,” she sniffs, turning away from them and marching off in the direction of the refreshments. It’s impossible to keep enough food on the table with a pack full of werewolves, and while generally she refuses to actively take care of them, as the host of this party she feels obligated. She’s in the middle of reloading the bowl of tortilla chips when Malia appears out of nowhere, bumping their shoulders together in what is probably supposed to be a gentle gesture. It send Lydia reeling on her heels, but Malia wraps an arm around her easily, helping her straighten up.
“Stiles and Derek are staring at you,” she says without preamble, voice so low Lydia can barely hear it. She follow Malia’s sharp gaze to where Stiles is still openly staring, and Derek has obviously looked away, his ears starting to turn red.
“Stiles thinks my sweater is ugly,” Lydia huffs, moving on to neatening up the trays of cheese and crackers and fruit.
“Well,” Malia hums, reaching around her to grab a stack of cheese and a handful of pepperoni. Lydia glares at her until she picks up a plate to deposit her goods. “Isn’t that the point of an ugly sweater party?”
Lydia huffs and straightens up, glaring at Malia (which is difficult, considering she looks kind of adorable with her mouth full of cheese). “Does this sweater look ugly to you? I don’t do ugly.”
Malia just rolls her eyes and finishes chewing, little crumbs of cheddar sticking to her chin. “They smell horny anyways,” she mumbles around a cracker, cheeks lifting as she grins. Lydia frowns and looks back to the guys, only to find Derek completely turned away, and Stiles laughing at him.
“You would think they’d have taken care of that before they came here,” she grumbles, resolutely not picturing how they could of taken care of it. It’s not her fault that Stiles has somehow gotten more attractive now that he’s stopped mooning after her, and Derek is actually the hottest human being she’s ever laid eyes on. It’s also not her fault that imagining them together, all bare skin and coarse hair and trembling muscles makes her sweat enough that she sometimes has to take a cold shower. And it’s even more not her fault that thinking about the both of them touching her with big warm hands and hot mouths and long fingers is enough to make her come, ever single time. She takes zero responsibility.
Malia’s giving her this funny little look like she knows what was just going through her head, and Lydia scowls. Just because Malia and Scott and Kira make their thing work doesn’t automatically mean that everyone can make it work.
Deciding she’d be better off just walking away from wherever this conversation is going, she stalks off in the direction of the living room. It sounds like the game of Exploding Kittens is getting a little rowdy, and she should probably move the glass ornaments her mom gave her before they get destroyed. She’s so busy eyeing Liam as he yells and throws his hand of cards at Mason to even notice anything out of the ordinary, and then suddenly her line of sight is filled with poorly knitted kittens.
“If you wanted to feel me up all you had to do was ask,” Stiles laughs, his smirk walking the line between devastatingly attractive and annoying enough to punch. Lydia huffs and backs up a step, only to bump into what can only be described as solid muscle. She looks over her shoulder and scowls at the stupid reindeer on Derek’s sweater, trying to distract herself from the warm hand curled just above her hip.
“Look up.” The softness and pitch of Derek’s voice still surprises her, higher and friendlier than she expects. Of course, the fact that he basically whispered in her ear, breath hot and damp and sending tendrils of warmth down her spine, doesn’t help anything. She glances up anyways, rolling her eyes at the fake mistletoe tacked to the door frame.
“Well, I’ll just get out-” Her escape attempt is thwarted by Derek spinning her around, his hands coming up to cup her face. She never blushes but she feels like she might be, her hands resting on his broad chest and unable to drag her eyes away from his.
“Is this okay?” He asks, and Lydia nods without thinking, forgetting momentarily about Stiles. Derek’s kissing her before she can gather her thoughts, his lips soft and tasting of eggnog, his beard just barely scraping against her skin.
She sighs when a warm body presses up behind her, cool fingers sneaking up beneath her sweater as chapped lips press wet kisses to her neck.
“Please say you’re into this,” Stiles murmurs against her throat. Lydia leans back against him, swallowing hard as she nods, watching breathlessly as Stiles leans over her shoulder to kiss Derek sloppily. When Derek breaks the kiss his eyes are sparkling, and Lydia knows he can smell it, can tell exactly how into this she is.
“Good,” is all he says, kissing her once more before stepping back. “We’ll talk more later.” He turns and walks away, already waving at Scott like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened.
“Lyds,” Stiles says, turning her gently to face him. “I’m telling you this in utmost confidence, and solely for the purpose of securing your interest in dating us.” He rests his hands on her shoulders, eyes solemn.
“Okay…” she narrows her eyes, not missing the slight twitch of his lips.
“That man right there has a magical dick.”
Stiles grins when she laughs and sighs when she pulls him down by the collar of his horrible sweater and kisses him hard on the mouth. She’s not quite sure what she’s getting herself into, but it feels like something good.
When Derek and Stiles informed Lydia that they wanted to take her out to dinner, she was a little surprised. Not that her boyfriends don’t treat her well or anything, but they aren’t exactly the dates kind of guys. Well, she suspects Derek might be, but anything involving Stiles tends to be some sort of adventure, usually the disastrous kind. But she’s not about to turn down dinner at the fanciest restaurant in Beacon Hills, even if she does have to slip out of her night class early to make it there on time.
Both boys are already sitting at the table when she walks in. Derek looks like some kind of upscale model, with his hair combed back and his charcoal gray button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black tie. By definition Stiles should look ridiculous, but the sweater vest and the glasses slipping down his nose are doing things to Lydia’s insides. She can’t help but feel lucky in that moment.
The feeling doesn’t last, not when they both turn their anxious expressions in her direction. Dread curls in the pit of her stomach, every nerve frizzing as she slides into the chair Derek pulls out for her.
“What’s with the faces,” she asks, not bothering to beat around the bush. If there’s one thing she knows about these two, it’s that they know how to avoid a point. Stiles and Derek share a meaningful look, and Lydia’s stomach twists. What is going on?
Stiles finally looks at her, eyes somber, and clears his throat. “I’m not sure how to tell you this,” he pauses for a moment, pulling at the collar of his shirt. Lydia narrows her eyes, watching as the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting back a laugh. “But, I’m pregnant.”
Lydia waits, one, two, three heartbeats, feeling victorious when Stiles bursts into giggles, knees bumping into the underside of the table as he tips back in his chair. It’s drawing attention from the other guests, but Stiles doesn’t seem to care, even as a flush starts to appear high on Derek’s cheeks. Lydia sighs and turns her attention to him, raising one eyebrow.
“Okay Der, now that you’ve tried his distraction technique, what’s the actual thing you want to ask me?” Derek rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, just slightly.
“I want to get a puppy.” He mutters, eyes downcast on his lap.
