That summer, they lay in each others' arms on the hammock in drowsy contentment. Isaac and Boyd were being chased around Derek's big back yard by Rupert, who was back to his nine or ten year old body and strangely attending Beacon Hills Elementary so that he could keep an eye out for Isaac, who had come home with one too many black eyes for the dragon to be content to wait for the day to end before he made sure his boy was okay. And Stiles smiled at the thought of Rupert considering Isaac his boy, even though Boyd would sometimes push Rupert out of their room so that he could get some time with Isaac without the dragon interrupting their play time. Rupert would sulk, crossing his arms over his chest and glare at the stairs sitting on the couch, waiting for them to come downstairs. Then Isaac would curl up on the couch with Rupert while Boyd got distracted playing video games, and Rupert would quiet down because his boy was next to him and that was all that mattered.

Stiles knew that Rupert was just a huggable dragon, because he used to do the same thing with him. He just wanted a friend who was his own age, and the dragon wouldn't grow up for another couple thousand years.

Stiles rested with his head against Derek's chest, listening to the steady beat that calmed his nerves like nothing else could. School was back in session, and despite the other kids giving him a hard time about being the General in the War That Was Never Fought and the sixteen year old daddy to three rambunctious boys in the elementary school down the road, it was hard to take them seriously when he could come home and curl up on Derek. Because Derek was awesome like that, and when he would take Stiles to his high school dances most everyone shut up pretty quick-like.

"Stiles," Derek said in a sing-song voice that he used when he was trying to get his attention and Stiles wasn't paying attention.

"Hm?" Stiles mumbled into Derek's chest, because hey, Derek's chest. Nothing more needed said about that.

"Why didn't you let me in on that little planning thing with Tokala before the War?" Derek wanted to know.

Stiles grumbled some before rubbing his eyes open. "Rupert's old teacher had it right. War is Art."

"What?" Derek asked.

"I only know one art, Derek. That's making things with metal. You need two things to forge metal: a fire and a hammer. If you start with a hammer, hit the metal with it while it's cold, you get shattered metal laying everywhere, completely useless. If you throw the metal into the fire, you get a differently shaped lump of metal and that's it. When you fight a war, you have to time your strikes after the enemy has been sufficiently heated and it's ready to be shaped…" Stiles ran a hand over his face. "This is probably not making a lot of sense."

"Stiles, start at the beginning. Tell me what exactly happened," Derek said.

Stiles sighed. "Every single Fae is severely limited by the rules of their race. Every single rule is instituted because of our relationship with magic. For example, the Fae cannot lie. This is because lies weaken our magic, and not just a little bit. Magic is what keeps us alive, it is what sustains and nurtures us. Without it, we die because we are made from magic. My race is also severely weakened and simultaneously strengthened when we take a mate. That mate becomes our weakness, and anything that causes our mate pain weakens us. To become stronger, we take revenge on whatever hurts our mate. It isn't the noblest aspect of being a metalzauber, but all Fae know that harming our mates is a way to weaken us, while also knowing to expect revenge for such action. They expected me to panic at losing so much magic all at once; they expected it to make me stupid and to jump into the fight with anger as my motivation. They did not understand that I watched my father make peace with the dragons after the last dragon killed my mother. They did not know that I was prepared to weaken myself as my father had done, because peace is a far nobler pursuit than war. And then Tokala showed up, and then they made their antiquated move, and I had everything I needed to know about how to keep every single person on our side safe."

Derek was quiet for a while. "So you didn't tell me…"

"Because you have no poker face, darling," Stiles said. "You aren't afraid to show your feelings of anger, and before battle if you sense a danger to me you'll shove me out of the way or not let anyone near me. I needed to talk to them, to explain how their way of doing things was now irrelevant."

"But if your revenge consisted of killing two thousand of their warriors, when they killed seven of my family members and eleven members of my father's pack… isn't that a little bit of overkill?" Derek asked.

"And now my magic is very strong," Stiles shrugged.

"But couldn't you have let all of us fight?" Derek wanted to know, "Couldn't you have let me kill them?"

"That would have given them a chance to kill you. Had I just made Tokala lightning strike them all to death, or had the American military drop bombs on all of them and then let them fight you all, there was a chance that one of you could have been hurt, that I would have shattered pieces of metal lying about in the aftermath. You could have been one of those pieces. I would not have survived that, and you would not have survived had I been killed. I could not chance you getting hurt, Derek Hale. You mean too much to me, and so I will protect everything that you hold dear. It was better for them to call a retreat than to fight them all; they will not return as quickly as they would have had they been defeated in battle. Maybe next time, they will better plan their attack, but it will be hard as they are locked in Faery with no access to this reality. Maybe when they come back next time, they will be more willing to not court Death as they have been, realizing that they must find new ways to seek power. Or then, maybe when they finally come back again and Rupert is a full grown dragon, he'll just spit fire on all of them to death. Who knows?" Stiles ended his thoughts with such a teenage optimism that Derek had to smile at him.

"So you're really made from magic?" Derek asked, quirking an eyebrow at Stiles.

"Yes," Stiles said.

"And you said that you had a lot of magic now?"

Stiles paused for a moment. "Yes," he said, kind of breathlessly.

"So I've heard that two Fae can have children together, regardless of their sex," Derek nuzzled Stiles's neck.

"It takes love and magic," Stiles said, exposing his neck for Derek's lips.

"Could you have my baby?" Derek asked him, breathless.

"In five or six years, I might be ready," Stiles panted when Derek bit at his neck lightly.

"You could have my baby?" Derek asked again, unable to believe it.

"Yes," Stiles said. "I wouldn't get pregnant like a human, you understand," Stiles whimpered at the feel of Derek's hand sneaking up his shirt and stroking up the side of his chest, trying not to arch into it as their children ran around them. "There would have to be a fire, and I would have to pull our child out…"

Stiles felt Derek hardening against his hip, and he quit talking for a moment until he could remember how to speak. "The kids…"

"Are their parents going to pick them up?" Derek whispered harshly into Stiles's ear.

"They've been fostered with us," Stiles whispered back. "It's an old tradition, meant to strengthen the ties between Fae Houses, we're expected to treat them as our own children so that emotional bonds are forged and make us less likely to attack their houses. It also ensures loyalty, so that if they're attacked we're more likely to come to the defense of our children's families."

Derek growled into Stiles's neck. "I want you to myself," he licked a hot stripe up Stiles's neck.

"It isn't going to happen, lover mine," Stiles smiled. "Not for a couple hundred years, at least."

Derek growled. "Then we should probably feed them and put them to bed. The last week of school starts tomorrow, and they're going to be coming home in sugar comas with all the parties. You know I have to take over Tuesday duties in Isaac's class?"

"You're such a good papa," Stiles laughed, kissing Derek's temple.

Derek smiled down at Stiles before nuzzling his neck a little more. "Do I need to show up at your school this week?"

"Just because my dad had to go back to Toad Suck doesn't mean that you have to be my papa, too," Stiles groused. "That's just plain uncomfortable."

"I love it when you get a Southern accent," Derek growled, pulling Stiles out of the hammock with him.

Stiles smiled a little evily at Derek before turning his attention to their children. "Boys!" he yelled out, "Get on up in this here house and wash up for dinner."

The kids whined a little, but they listened to their daddy Stiles, pushing each other a little before going in through the back door.

"We're going to have a really good life," Derek says, smiling as his arms wrap around Stile's waist and resting his head on Stile's shoulder.

"We already have a really good life," Stiles agrees. He reaches back and runs his hand through Derek's hair, feeling the slippery soft mess trickling through his fingers. His hand traces the knobs of Derek's spine, down his back to feel the slightly raised skin of the tattoo that Rupert donated blood for on Derek's back. It's a chance, if Stiles was going to be killed in the future it meant that Derek would live on without him, but it's a chance that they're willing to take. Everything about this relationship is chance, but as long as they have each other they're willing to risk it.

Stiles drags his wolf back into the house, smilng at the miracle of a crock pot sitting on the counter. He put everything in there as soon as he got home from school, and he dished out the beef and the carrots and potatoes onto his children's and Derek's plates.

It was terribly domestic for them, and it was wonderful and beautiful for Stiles. He had always wanted a huge family, even though it was almost unheard of for the Fae to have a huge family. With Derek, he had children and a pack who were bound to be over after dinner so that they could do their homework together or watch TV or a movie, and there would be noise and shouting and fighting. Stiles loved it, loved it even though he really missed his father.

Getting the kids to bed was normally a chore, but the running around all weekend had worn them out so it was a quick instruction to get into the shower to Boyd and Rupert, running a bath for Isaac, threats for teeth brushing and then cuddling up so that Stiles could read them a story before tucking them in and turning the light out, an almost pointless action since the sun was still up. There would be some giggles coming from the boys' room before they passed out, but Stiles knew it wouldn't be long. Derek would be up in fifteen minutes for bodily threats if they weren't asleep, and then he would hug and kiss them all and make his way back down to Stiles where they would do the dishes together and wait for the pack to show up.

"I feel bad," Derek said, "I feel like I'm taking your childhood away from you."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, 'cause watching these kids for ten or fifteen years out of my two hundred year long childhood is really going to make me miss out on a lot."

Derek sighed, "No, I mean it. You should be doing high school stuff, parties and dating…"

Stiles put the last of the dishes away. "That's always an option. I could drop out of school and go later, if it bothers you that much. But I wouldn't give this up for the world, or all of the magic in it. This is what I want, Derek, and you are what I want more than that. Going out and dating other people will only make me miserable, most of the Fae are pretty much eunuchs until we find out mates. I don't have a desire go out because I've found everything that I want, right here."

Derek nodded his head, but he still looked concerned.

"You know, the King of the Fae has been King since he was five years old," Stiles said.

"What?" Derek asked.

"When your people are near extinct, most of them never get to be a child," Stiles said, slowly. "If there was an older couple to foster those kids with, you know Boyd's and Isaac's parents would have fostered them there. None of my people really expect any kid to be a kid for long. They would rather us all shack up and start making babies. All it takes is one really good war, or a few people who hate us, or a sickness and we're gone. My people would rather me be with a mate."

Derek blinked at Stiles a few times. "That's why your dad didn't protest at all when you told him you were mated to me."

Stiles nodded. "He and my mother tried for a very long time to have me. It isn't that my mom didn't have any magic, it was that my dad made really hard decisions so he was limited. It's hard to be powerful enough to have children, and then it's hard to be strong enough to survive after they're made. But I have enough magic, and while I'm weak afterwards you'll be strong enough to defend us. I'm not worried, and we might have enough children to make a difference. You're a good choice, for a mate."

Derek smiled. "You just want me 'cause I'm strong."

Stiles laughed. "You're right. Your ass has absolutely nothing to do with it at all."

They settled in the living room as the pack gathered, bringing with them snacks and drinks. Scott provided a movie and Lydia, Erica, and Allison spread out some history text books on the floor. Jackson and Danny were fighting over an afghan on the couch, and Stiles settled his head on Derek's shoulder as the movie began.

It was bliss. Stiles wasn't paying attention to whatever movie was on the screen, content to bask in the presence of his pack and Derek's arms. Derek's hands, normally so still, were constantly in movement against Stiles's skin, rubbing circles or just stroking the underside of his forearms. While he was never inappropriate in front of the rest of the pack, Stiles still let himself the feel of Derek's warm breath on his neck, and couldn't wait to go upstairs after everyone else had left. There were certain things that Derek was really good at, and Stiles was the only one who knew about it.

"So, you think things are going to be normal from now on?" Scott asked as the end credits started on the movie.

"Dude," Jackson snarled at him, "You realize you just cursed us for life?"

"What did I do?" Scott asked, looking offended.

"It's like saying that things are peaceful now, or that you're bored. You get attention from the wrong places," Lydia said, braining him over the head with a pillow.

"Oh come on, you don't really belive that, do you?" Scott asked, pulling the pillow out of Lydia's hands and laying back on it, smirking at her.

Everyone else just glared at Scott.

"You don't all believe that, do you?" Scott asked again, this time surprised.

Allison hit him on the head with a pillow, but Scott wouldn't ever defend himself against Allison so the rest of the pack was content to let her have at him while they discussed his stupidity.

Stiles watched them with some degree of amusement, curling up into Derek's arms as he chuckled at them all. They listened as the pack debated the degree of responsibility Scott carried for whatever adventure they were going to get into next with varying degrees of emotion until Stiles had enough.

"Okay, y'all have got to go home. It's late, and…"Stiles started to say, picking up bowls that had held popcorn and potato chips and putting empty bottles of soda into them to carry into the kitchen.

The girls started packing up their textbooks and the guys started folding the blankets to put back on the couches.

They were interrupted with frantic knocking at the door.

Everyone turned at the exact same time and glared at Scott.

"This is not my fault!" he protested, but everyone grabbed whatever pillow was closest and hit Scott on the head with it.

"You ready for this?" Stiles asked Derek.

Derek rolled his eyes, but he held Stiles close for just a moment longer before he got up off the couch and went to answer the door.