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Peter bit back a groan as the contraction rolled through him. He'd been timing them since that afternoon, when they had gone from twenty minutes apart to ten. Now, at nearly three o'clock in the morning, they were less than five minutes apart and getting stronger.
"Noah, I think it's time."
"Good thing I already sent Stiles to get everything set up," Noah said, wrapping his arms around Peter from behind.“How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm too damn old for this."
"The twenty-year-old downstairs didn't clue you in to that?"
Peter was about to retort when another contraction surged and nearly brought him to his knees.
"Easy baby,“ Noah murmured as he gently swayed them back and forth. "Deep breaths–in and out–just like we practiced.”
Peter’s fingers curled into Noah’s forearm as he forced himself to inhale slowly, then exhale with a shaky groan. He leaned back into his mate’s chest, letting the warmth and steady heartbeat relax him for a moment before the next wave.
Stiles came thundering up the stairs and burst into the bedroom, his face flushed with excitement.
"Everything’s ready to go!” he announced breathlessly, fumbling with the doorframe before stepping fully inside. “I’ve got the towels in the warmer, ice chips are set out, and I turned on that playlist of ambient music you picked out...you feeling okay, Papa?"
Peter let out a low groan as another contraction ebbed, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths.
"I’ve been better,“ he admitted, his voice rough but steady as he held his hand out.“Come here,pup."
Stiles wasted no time in crossing the room and embracing his step-wolf. Noah reached over to wrap an arm around Stiles too, and for a few moments they just stood like that, reveling in the warmth of their little family.
Then, a gush of fluid hit the floor, signaling that Peter's water had broken.
"Well," Noah mused as he looked down at the mess.“It’s definitely time to get downstairs."
"Ah hell,that rug was imported."
"Don't worry, dear. I'll have someone come in to clean it when this is over."
They helped Peter downstairs to the birthing pool. He stripped off his clothes and sank into the water with a groan, the buoyancy easing the pressure on his lower back. Noah stripped down to his shorts and slid in behind him, letting Peter lean back against his chest, while Stiles got the waterproof Doppler ready to monitor the baby's heartbeat.
"You sure you know how to work that thing, son?"
"With all the research I've done, I'm practically qualified to be a full-time werewolf midwife."
"Don't settle on that career just yet, pup," Peter groaned as another contraction rolled through, “your father is getting snipped after this."
"That's a very cruel thing to do to me."
"Now you know how I feel."
*************
Minutes blurred into each other. The contractions started coming faster, rolling in like ocean swells with barely a pause between them. Peter's breath came in sharp, measured gasps, his head falling back against Noah’s shoulder as the pain became more unbearable.
“That’s it, love,” Noah murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum against Peter’s ear, "just breathe through it...you're doing so good..."
Stiles kept monitoring the baby's heartbeat and ensured that the water maintained a consistent temperature. In between that, he was applying cold compresses and refilling the cup of ice chips.
When the pain got bad enough to leave Peter in tears, Stiles grabbed his hand and whispered something in a foreign language–shocking everyone when black lines began to crawl up his arm.
"Stiles, what–"
"It's a pain drain spell, not as intense as a werewolf's, but enough to help. I made sure to learn it weeks ago."
That made Peter cry for an entirely different reason.
"You're a good pup, you know that?"
"I know Papa...I know."
**********
The sun peeked through the blinds as they entered the final stretch. Peter gripped Noah's hands tightly as he pushed, the water clouding slightly as the head began to emerge.
"I can see the head," Stiles said as his hands hovered over the water, “Just one more push, Papa, you can do it!"
Peter screamed—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the walls—as he pushed with everything he had left. The head emerged in a rush, followed by the shoulders, and Stiles quickly plunged his hands in and pulled the baby up...her loud, furious yell echoing throughout the living room.
"It's a girl," Stiles said as he placed the squalling infant on Peter's chest, “a beautiful, perfect, loud baby girl."
Peter sobbed openly, pressing his lips to her wet head as he cradled her close.
"Hello, sweet girl, we've been waiting for you."
Noah’s own tears spilled over as he leaned in, kissing Peter softly on the temple. His hands trembled as he caressed the newborn’s tiny, damp cheeks, his thumb brushing over her soft skin with reverence.
“You did it,” Noah whispered, voice thick with emotion, "You beautiful, incredible man, you did it...you gave birth to our girl."
He pressed another kiss to Peter’s lips before resting his forehead against his mate’s, the three of them cocooned together in the gentle warmth of the water.
After cutting the cord and delivering the placenta, Stiles wrapped a warm towel around the baby and gathered her into his arms while Noah lifted Peter out of the water and carried him upstairs.
After ensuring his mate was clean, warm, and dry, Noah took a quick shower and put on sweats before climbing into the bed with Peter and wrapping his arms around him.
"How are you feeling, Baby?"
"Like I just went ten rounds with a wendigo..."
"Good thing this little one is way cuter than a wendigo," Stiles said as he handed over the cleaned and swaddled baby to Peter, "be right back, I'm going to clean up downstairs and make you some tea."
Stiles exited the room, his footsteps softly echoing down the hall as he descended the stairs. Once he was gone, Noah leaned closer to Peter, admiring the baby nestled in his arms. Her tiny face scrunched and relaxed as she made small noises.
“She’s so perfect,” Noah murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “I think she has your nose.”
"Fairly certain that nose belongs to you, dear."
“Maybe so, but that hair is definitely yours," Noah said with a small laugh. “How long until we know whether or not she's a werewolf?"
"Hmm, not for a few months yet...for now she's just like any other baby...only better."
"Because she's ours?"
"Because she's ours."
Moments later, Stiles returned, carrying a steaming mug of tea. He approached the bed carefully, grinning at the sight of the baby cradled safely between his fathers.
"Here you go, Papa,” Stiles said warmly as he handed Peter the cup. “Nice and hot, just like you like it.”
"Thank you, sweetheart."
Stiles carefully took the baby into his arms before sitting down and snuggling into Peter's side.
"Have you guys decided on a name yet? I need to know what to put on her future fake IDs."
"You are not making fake IDs for your sister–Peter stop corrupting my child."
"I'm afraid that corruption is all on you, Darling," Peter said before shifting his gaze to Stiles," We think you should name her."
Stiles looked at them in shock.
“Me? Are you sure? I mean, I'm her big brother–amazing title by the way–but she's your daughter...I wouldn't want to overstep.”
“You’re not overstepping,” Noah said firmly, his hand moving from Peter’s thigh to reach out and squeeze Stiles’s knee. “You were right there with us the whole time. You caught her, for god’s sake. She’s as much yours in this moment as she is ours. We want you to give her a name.”
“Please, Stiles...We trust you.”
Stiles looks down at the sleeping infant in his arms. His lips parted, then closed, then parted again. After a long, quiet moment, he spoke.
"Hope. Her name should be Hope, because that's what she is to all of us, you know? After everything we've been through, both alone and together, she’s the hope we didn’t even know we were holding onto. She’s the beginning of something new and good...for all of us."
Peter’s eyes filled with tears again, and he pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, then Stiles's.
"Hope Stilinski-Hale...it's perfect."
"Welcome to the family, Hope," Noah whispered.“We’re a little chaotic and more than slightly unhinged, but we love fiercely, and you, baby girl, are going to be so, so very loved."
The three of them stayed curled up in the bed as the morning sunlight streamed softly through the bedroom window, painting the room in a warm glow. Peter drifted somewhere between exhaustion and bliss, his head resting against Noah’s shoulder. Stiles had dozed off against Peter’s other side, his lips still curved in a small, sleepy smile as he held his baby sister against his chest.
For the first time in a long time, there was no sense of looming danger, no shadows of the past creeping in. Just the steady, comforting rhythm of four heartbeats and the occasional coo of a newborn.
Peter let his eyes close fully, breathing in the scent of his mate and their pups, and let that feeling of love and peace anchor him. He drifted off to sleep, cradled in the warmth of his family and the promise of everything yet to come.