One Night (sterek mpreg)

oreos

"Derek!" I call loudly, my voice ricocheting through the loft.

"Yeah?" He calls back, jogging into the kitchen where I'm currently rummaging through the cupboards. He raises an eyebrow at me, shaking his head in despair.

"What is it now?" He asks with a sigh.

"I can't find the Oreos." I say plainly, frowning at the cupboard in front of me. Derek chuckles.

"Uh, sweetie, hate to disappoint you but, you ate 'em all last night." He says softly with a small smile.

My face drops. "You're kidding me, right?" I ask, my voice laced with heartbreak.

"Not kidding." He says, a smirk on his face. "Why d'you need Oreos anyway? You seemed to be pretty happy making your way through a whole jar of peanut butter, like, 10 minutes ago." He says, glancing over the jar of peanut butter- almost empty- on its side, in the centre of the kitchen table.

"Yeah, but, I thought I could dip my Oreos into the peanut butter." I say quietly with disappointment.

Derek laughs again. "That's disgusting." He says with a chuckle. He does look beautiful when he smiles. Not as beautiful as Oreos, though.

"Whatever you say, big guy." I say, stepping towards him and patting him on the arm.

"You want me to go to the store and get you some?" He coos gently. I nod with a pout. "Okay. I'll be back soon." He says before planting a quick kiss on my forehead and leaving the room.

About a minute later, he calls "bye!" And I hear the loft door close shut.

I wait slightly impatiently for Derek; I pace around the house, sighing, groaning, yearning for my damn Oreos.

Suddenly the door knocks. I nearly run to answer it, grabbing the handle with excitement. Though, when I open it, disgust fills my body.

"Hello, Stiles." Peter's creepy voice rings through the loft, sending shivers down my spine. Immediately I place a hand on my stomach, as if by doing so I will somehow protect the twins.

I grit my teeth and my jaw tightens. "What do you want, Peter?" I answer back harshly.

"Can't an uncle just visit his great nieces or nephews?" He asks slowly, narrowing his glare at my stomach.

"Unfortunately, no. They're not exactly ready for visitors." I say harshly, reaching for the loft handle to pull it shut. Peter puts out a hand and immediately stops it from moving. I scowl.

"May I come in?" He asks, not bothering to wait for a reply and just stepping into the loft. He looks around, his footsteps making the floorboards creak.

Suddenly I hear Derek's footsteps approaching from outside the open door.

"Honey, I'm home!" He calls cheerfully, stepping inside and waving a pack of Oreos at me.

"How truly adorable." Peters voice sounds from across the loft. Derek freezes and slowly spins on his heel, his hard frown immediately setting on Peter. A sudden slow growl escapes his lips.

"Now, now, Derek. No need to get your panties all tangled up." He smiles; a smile which forms knots within my gut.

"What. Do. You. Want." Derek growls his words, narrowing his frown at Peter, who's made himself at home by sitting on the couch. I scowl at him.

"Ooh, what's up with you, cranky pants?" Peter asks intimidatingly, moving his stare to me. I shuffle closer to Derek, who instantly puts a hand out in front of me, resting it on my bump.

"Get out, Peter. Get out, now!" Derek roars, making an even more chilling smile grow on his uncle's face.

Peter puts his hands up in defence, raising his eyebrows innocently. "Okay, okay, don't fret, my nephew." He says. "I just wanted to see if the rumours of said pregnancy were in fact true. Which they are." He says, taking a few slow steps towards us.

Suddenly Peter extends his arm toward the slight bump on my stomach. Before his hand reaches me though, Derek grabs his wrist.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on him." Derek speaks in a low voice, his glare fixed intently on Peter. Peter lets a small chuckle escape his mouth.

"Oh, nephew, you're going to regret that." He says, and before we can do anything, Derek's been thrown across the room, causing a painting to fall and shatter as it hits the floor next to him.

"No!" Is all I call, because it happens very fast.

"Stiles, run." Derek orders through gritted teeth, clenching his fists but hissing in pain.

"B-but..."

"Now!" Derek barks, and I make a reasonably quick escape to the door, grabbing my keys in the process.

I run down the steps of the building, avoiding tripping- thank God.

When I reach outside the building I sprint towards my car, yanking the door open before quickly jumping in. Without thinking I zoom down the road, though, as hard as I try to oppress it, my thoughts wander back to Derek. He'll be okay. I try and assure myself as I anxiously pull up to my house.

I climb out my car and desperately knock on my front door, my knuckles turning white as I slam them against the wood.

My dad quickly answers the door, confusion and worry all over his face when he sees me.

"Stiles, everything oka-" my dad begins to ask but I shove past him and pace into the kitchen, running my fingers through my hair. "Stiles?! Stiles, what is it?" My dad asks me firmly, raising an eyebrow.

"I-it's Derek..." I say anxiously, sitting down and tapping my fingers on the table.

"What did he do to you? Are you okay?" My dad asks, his eyes widening.

"I'm fine, dad. It's... It's Peter, his uncle, came round and he, uh, started attacking Derek, and I..." I trail off, my mind once again going back to Derek's potential state right now.

My dad rests a hand on my shoulder. "He'll be okay, son. It's okay." My dad says softly, stroking my shoulder.

I shake my head slowly. "He told me to run- I didn't wanna leave him, but we didn't want Peter to hurt the twins." I say shakily.

"Just text him, okay? Tell him to reply when Peter's gone then you can go round and see him.

I glance up to my dads reassuring expression and nod, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

One new message: Derek

"Oh," I mumble, opening the message.

I open the message.

"Stiles, are you safe?" Is all the message says, and I clench the phone tightly in my grip.

I'm okay. I'm with my dad. I type back. Are you safe? I add on, waiting for a reply.

"I'm fine. Peter's gone." He replies back, and I shut my eyes thankfully, exhaling a shaky sigh of relief.

My dad convinces me to stay and relax for a bit, so I sit with him and have a drink.

I finally decide to drive back to Derek's at dark. When I arrive, the scene before me makes me want to throw up.