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Stiles bounced in place, murmuring off the elements in the Periodic Table. His knees had become numb half an hour ago as he paced around the room, probably looking like an idiot. It was three forty-seven in the morning, and little Erica had decided it would be a great time to have an upset stomach.
The three month old let out a high pitched wail, and Stiles rubbed the back of her head soothingly, stopping for a minute to sway by the window, and then moving again when she began to fuss even more. His ears were ringing, and he could only imagine how Derek was faring downstairs with Isaac, Erica’s twin.
He was just as fussy as Erica, but was fighting some congestion and had their permission to be miserable. Scott’s three year old, Mel, had decided that her cold should be shared with the entire Pack. Stiles just hoped his watery eyes were from lack of sleep, or he’d be screwed.
Laying Erica down on the changing table, he checked her diaper with the hope that she was uncomfortable instead of overly gassy...still. Seeing that she had not even wet her diaper, he decided to take drastic measures. Opening the cabinet beside the diapers, he took out the container of Mylicon drops and doled out the correct dosage.
Her crying sputtered while the medicine worked it’s way down her throat, and became muffled again as she buried her face in his shirt, shifting her head from side to side.
“Honey, it’s okay. You just have to work with me. Come on baby, you’re fine.”
He sat back in the rocking chair and laid her across his lap. He patted her back, slowly moved her legs up and down, he did everything the motherfucking baby book told him to do. Trust his little girl to fall asleep from exhaustion.
He gently placed her in her crib, making sure she was on her belly and her knees were tucked beneath her. Hopefully whatever air was in her stomach would pass within the next few hours, before her next feeding.
Maneuvering his way out of the room and switching on a night light, he began the short journey back to his and Derek’s room. The light whining from downstairs stopped him, and he creeped down the steps to check on Derek.
Derek was sitting cross-legged on the floor, shirtless, with Isaac cradled against his chest. The humidifier was on in the corner of the room, and the only light came from the gas fireplace. Isaac was gumming at Derek’s pointer finger, soft noises and sniffles coming from the half-asleep baby every few seconds.
“You need me to warm up a bottle?”
They had received a new batch of breast milk for the week from their surrogate, and hoped it would be enough to keep the kids happy. The formula didn’t agree with their stomachs, and they hoped their birth mother would continue to supply them while she could.
Derek nodded minutely, taking his eyes away from the baby to give Stiles a sleepy smile, before turning back to Isaac.
He ran the water in the kitchen, keeping it on while he fetched a frozen bag of milk. It was four ounces, enough to hopefully knock the kid out for a few hours. He placed it beneath the hot water, removing it when it was at a decent temperature. He poured it into the bottle, shook it a few times, tested the temperature again, and then made his way back to Derek.
Derek was now lying on the floor, Isaac bundled against his stomach, cooing in discomfort. Stiles handed the bottle to him and watched as Derek expertly placed the bottle in their son’s mouth and talked him through the feeding.
Derek had been the one to take the article about “real-talk” versus “baby-talk” extremely seriously, and refused to make his voice higher to appease his children. He talked smoothly, telling Isaac about the forest surrounding their house, and the plans to build a swing set in the backyard when they were old enough. Isaac watched his Daddy with half-lidded eyes, the milk already settling in his stomach enough to make him drowsier.
And Stiles just smiled, watching as his husband finished feeding Isaac, patted his back until he burped, changed his diaper, and then finally rocked him to sleep all of the way.
“The humidifier is still on in our room, we should probably keep him in there the rest of the night.”
“It’s close enough to the bassinette? I don’t know, maybe I should stay down here.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes, unplugging the humidifier and moving it upstairs with the other one.
“Now there are two. He’ll be fine. You need to sleep, too, y’know. You have training at noon tomorrow and I have an article due at three, so yes, sleep. Sleep is good, let’s go.”
Derek stood in their doorway, staying as still as possible to not disturb Isaac. Eventually he sighed and placed the baby in the crib, watching to make sure Isaac wouldn’t wake, and then flopped onto the bed.
“Erica?” He questioned, pulling himself up to his pillow and putting an arm around Stiles’ waist.
“Asleep. Gassy, but asleep.”
“Good, it’s been a long night.”
“You get first feeding in the morning...” Stiles whispered, turning his head away to hide his smirk.
“No I...shit..ugh, go to sleep, Stiles.”
“Sure thing, sourwolf.”