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When Scott gets home from his shift at the clinic, the first person he sees is Lydia.
She’s sitting on the couch, dressed comfortably in what he thinks is Stiles’ shirt - but could be either of theirs, really, with how often they share clothes - and his boxers. Her hair is in a bun, face devoid of any makeup, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She’s beautiful.
“Hey,” he says, smiling tiredly at her. “Derek pick the kids up already?”
Lydia nods, shifting as he sits so she’s tucked under his arm. “We have the whole weekend to ourselves, just the four of us.”
“Speaking of,” Scott starts, tilting his head as he counts the heartbeats in the house. “Are Stiles and Malia sleeping?”
“They passed out the second Derek left,” Lydia snorts. “I wanted to wait up for you.”
Scott presses a quick kiss to her temple, then to her lips, but Lydia keeps him there, curling a hand around his neck and kissing him deep and slow, almost lazily, until his eyes flutter shut.
“Bed?” Lydia murmurs against his lips, and Scott hums his agreement, even though he feels like he could fall asleep right there. His muscles feel heavy as he heaves himself up, but he still lifts Lydia into his arms, securing one hand under her ass and the other over her lower back as her legs wrap around his waist.
He carries her to their bedroom with ease while Lydia giggles in his ear. Stiles and Malia are still sleeping – right at the edge of the bed, Stiles’ face lax and mouth open as Malia spoons him - when Scott drops Lydia onto the bed gently and crawls up her body, nipping at her stomach where her shirt has ridden up.
“Come here,” Lydia demands, pulling at his hair impatiently. He obeys without complaint, slotting their lips together. “Missed this.”
“It’s been too long,” he agrees when Lydia pulls back to breathe. He turns his attention her neck, attaches his lips to her collarbone and bites, soothes the wound with his tongue.
He and Lydia make love slowly, sweetly. They kiss nearly the entire time, Scott rocking into her with gentle thrusts. It’s the best kind of orgasm, the type that builds and builds until he can feel it in his entire body, until it makes his breath catch in his throat. Lydia shakes beneath him, arms clutching at his back and face buried in his neck as she comes.
Scott holds her through the aftershocks, and she smiles after she catches her breath.
”Love you,” he tells her, heart beating a little bit faster when her smile softens, hand coming up to stroke the back of his neck, toying with the hair he’s let grow out there.
“I love you too,” she replies, and Scott leans forward to rub their noses together. It never fails to make her blush, even after all the years they’ve been together.
They don’t bother getting dressed afterwards, like they do when the kids are home. After one too many incidents of their children running in without knocking they’ve learned their lesson, and it’s nice not to have to worry about that for now. Instead they fall asleep naked, wrapped around each other and breathing in each other’s scents.
Scott wakes up a few hours later – he hasn’t slept through a whole night since Maddie was born, it’s automatic to wake up every four hours now – and finds Malia staring at him, one hand running through Lydia’s hair absently.
She’s naked, but that’s not a surprise. Malia has always been most comfortable nude, and finds any excuse to strip off. Stiles always says that’s where Lucas gets it from, and Scott agrees. It’s a daily struggle trying to get their baby boy into clothes. Or diapers.
“We missed you last night,” Malia rumbles, a slight frown on their face. Scott hums, body arching as he stretches leisurely.
It’s been years since they found them in the woods, but Malia still has some feral tendencies. If they had it their way they’d never leave, stay in their den with their cubs and live like that. (Sometimes he agrees, usually on the days when the kids have to be up for school and he and Malia barely say hello because he’s leaving to open the clinic as Malia gets off the night shift.)
“Shift ran late,” he apologises.
Malia inhales deeply, a pleased sound in their throat. “Shower?”
It had been a while since they showered together; it was something they used to do a lot when they first all got together, usually while Stiles and Lydia were busy. Scott has missed it.
“Definitely,” Scott says, even if he’s reluctant to leave the warm bed where his partners are all snuggled up together. “Race you?”
Malia grins, and that’s that. Scott chases them to the bathroom, catches them at the last second and wraps his arms around their waist, dipping his head to press blunt teeth against their neck. They go limp. “Caught you.”
“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” Malia teases, turning in his arms. They tilt their head up for a kiss, and Scott leans into it without a thought.
It takes them another fifteen minutes to actually make it into the shower, and Scott lets out a groan as the warm water hits his back, shifting slightly so it lands on just the right spot.
“Stiles is stressed,” Malia says as they wash his hair – something they always do when they shower together. They shrugged when he asked why, a few years ago, said it settles something in them to groom their Alpha – and Scott frowns.
Stiles has been looking tired lately, but he’d assumed that was because Claudia had just presented as a werewolf, and trying to calm down a toddler who can sprout fangs is tough. (Claudia is a biter. Stiles also says Claudia gets this from Malia, who always grins and snaps their teeth at him in response.)
“His editor has been pushing him to finish his novel,” Malia continues, nails digging harder into his scalp with their aggravation. “I don’t like her.”
“Me either,” Scott murmurs, hand coming up reflexively to stroke Malia’s arm to calm them down, like he used to when they first shifted back to human and had trouble with their control.
Looking back, he doesn’t how he never realised his feelings for the coyote before, especially when he spend all those nights researching what it means that they don’t identify as a girl. They were all grateful when Lydia stepped in and informed them Malia was most likely non-binary. Lydia took it upon herself to help Malia, show them all the different gender identities and help them find which one they identified with most and figure out which pronouns they wanted to use.
(Lydia was also the one to buy Malia their first strap-on, to kneel behind them to guide as Malia fucked a very eager Stiles.)
“We can take his mind off it this weekend,” he suggests, turning them so Malia is under the spray and grabbing the shampoo. “Distract him.”
Malia practically purrs as he massaged the shampoo into their hair, raking his nails through the strands.
“How could we distract him?” Malia asks, eyes half shut and head tilted back. They smile wickedly. “I could give him a blowjob, he loves those.”
“I was thinking of starting with breakfast,” Scott laughs, planning as he talks. “Maybe we could all watch a movie? Just cuddle and spend the day together.”
“I like it,” Malia announces, a soft smile on their face, and Scott can’t help but kiss them, tug them closer as Malia nibbles his bottom lip playfully.
Scott gently cleans Malia’s body, dips his hands between their thighs teasingly before moving away, making Malia’s growl before doing the same to him, wrapping a hand around him and jacking him, grip loose and slippery from the soap.
He comes in her fist minutes later, and Malia pushes at his shoulders impatiently until he’s on his knees, guiding him to where they’re wet, scent sweet and taste heavy on his tongue. Scott doesn’t let up until Malia’s thighs are shaking, body slumped against the wall because they can’t hold themselves up anymore.
They finish the rest of their shower swiftly, and Malia makes him give them a piggyback to their bedroom afterwards, sucking a hickey into his neck the entire time.
Scott doesn’t bother getting fully dressed, just pulls on a pair of boxers after he pats himself dry.
“You wake Lydia and Stiles up,” Scott says to Malia, tilting his head towards the bed where the two lay. “I’ll start breakfast.”
Scott pulls out all the necessary ingredients for breakfast and is cracking the last egg when Stiles walks in. He doesn’t say a word, just plasters himself against Scott’s back and snuffles into his neck.
It takes five minutes for Stiles to move, and that’s only because he finally smells the coffee Scott had brewed, moaning gratefully as he slides into a chair.
“Where are the others?” Scott asks, flipping a pancake.
“Malia is waking Lydia up,” Stiles replies, and Scott doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
“Why didn’t you join them?” Scott is pretty sure Stiles has never turned down sex.
Stiles shrugs, cheeks going pink. “I wanted to spend time with you.”
“We have all weekend for that,” Scott beams. “Pass me three plates, babe?”
Stiles washes strawberries and blueberries and cuts up a banana as Scott distributes the pancakes for him and Stiles, leaving some for Malia and Lydia on a separate plate for when they’re ready.
They sit at the table, bowl of fruit and bottle of syrup between them. Stiles loads his plate with banana pieces, pink tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he squirts way too much syrup over his breakfast.
(It reminds Scott of their eldest, Madeline, and makes him smile.)
For himself, Scott grabs a handful of the berries and places them in the middle of his stack, then circles them with the syrup, nodding approvingly to himself when he’s finished.
Lydia and Malia come out just as Scott is finishing his last pancake, and he nods towards the stack on the side.
“For you,” he says after he swallows.
Stiles, on the other hand, tries to say something with his mouth full, and it ends with his words coming out as gibberish and syrup on his chin.
Lydia crinkles her nose at Stiles and Malia, who’s sat in Stiles’ lap and licked the syrup off. “You’re no better than Maddie.”
Stiles grins and puffs his chest out proudly. “She’s my girl.”
“She’s also eight years old,” Lydia points out, rolling her eyes fondly.
“Maddie is very mature for her age.” Stiles sticks his tongue out.
Scott watches the exchange with mild amusement and shares a fond look with Malia. Those two are always bickering without any real heat. (He remembers one time they had sex mid debate, still arguing even as Lydia was riding Stiles. It was interesting to watch, until Malia got tired of all the noise and ended up straddling Stiles’ face, facing forward so they could kiss Lydia and keep both of their mouths preoccupied.)
“What movie are we watching?” Malia interrupts, smacking Stiles’ hand away from their pancake.
“Star Wars!” Stiles shouts, wiggling in his seat.
In unison, all three of them replied, “No.”
Stiles pouts.
It takes a good twenty minutes for them all to agree on a movie: Jurassic World. Then they spend another ten minutes deciding how to sit, before Scott suggests they move the coffee table and lay a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor.
Lydia takes charge, assigning Stiles and Malia to make drinks and snacks while she and Scott prepare the front room, and in no time at all they’re all snuggled together, cooing at the baby dinosaurs.
It’s the most relaxed he’s been in months, as well as the most time he’s spent uninterrupted with his partners, but he can’t help but miss his babies. He can tell Malia misses them, too, from the way they keep tilting their head, listening out for the kids before realising they aren’t there. He pulls them closer, one hand resting on their stomach.
“They’ll be back tomorrow,” Scott whispers, but with how close they’re all lying together, Lydia and Stiles hear.
“I didn’t think I’d miss the rugrats so much,” Stiles huffs, then bites his lip. “I want another one.”
Lydia clears her throat nervously. “Can you wait seven months?”
“What?” Malia sits up, brow furrowed in confusion.
“I went to see Maggie last week,” Lydia starts, one hand rubbing her stomach. Scott swallowed heavily; Maggie is their OB/GYN doctor. “I’m two months along.”
Scott beams. “Are you serious?”
Lydia smiles softly and nods. “Think we can handle four kids?”
“Hell yeah,” Stiles puts a hand up for him to high five. Scott laces their fingers together instead. “We’re gonna boss it.”
Malia growls approvingly, turning so they can curl around Lydia, rest a hand on her stomach protectively. Lydia huffs but shifts closer; she’s used to this now, Malia gets like this every time either one of them is pregnant.
Scott is already planning on getting Maddie’s old crib from the attic, visualising how they can re-arrange Lucas’ room to fit it in.
“We’re gonna need a bigger house,” he blurts.
“And get all the stuff out of the attic,” Malia adds.
“Ooh, can we get a puppy?” Stiles asks.
“We have seven months to figure all that out,” Lydia says, looking a little overwhelmed.
Scott reaches for her hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”