littlecofiegirl:

captain-snark:

drunktuesdaze:

WAIT I’M NOT DONE! I’M NOT DONE!  What’s absolutely destroying me about that picture is the look of delighted disbelief on Hoechlin’s face.  Like, holy shit you guys!  Are you seeing this?  Look at this thing!  Look at its little fingers!  This can’t be real!  What a cosmic joke!  CHRIST.  

And it makes me want that fic sooooo baaddd.  At one point, I was like, vaguely plotting out a story where Derek and Stiles bust up a werewolfbaby selling ring and now I’m like, bored of writing plot or whatever but it’d be worth it just for scenes where like, 

Derek is standing there, just holding the kid.  Baby.  Infant.  Whatever.  He has no idea how you tell how old a baby is, but the thing is small.  ”What?” he says absently, and then registers what Stiles said.  ”No, I know, I’m not keeping him.  I’ll find—” and then the baby sneezes.  His whole body jerks in Derek’s arm, and his fingers curl a little bit, and Derek’s mouth drops open.   “What was that?” he says, in a voice he’s never used before. He’s heard other people use it, moms and people with poodles, but it comes out of his mouth without his permission.  ”You got something else to add?”  

Stiles is staring at him like he’s never seen Derek before, and Derek has no interest in suffering under that gaze, so he turns and grabs a napkin from the table, and wipes away the drool and snot that was collecting.  Kiddo shakes his head to avoid Derek, gurgles happily and waves his fists around.  His hands are like, the size of Derek’s thumb and Derek’s struck all over again at the improbability of babies, of smallness, of tiny nails and tiny claws and the uncomplicated smellgood of cubs.  Someone made this, Derek thinks, and the next thought, of course, is “someone tried to sell this.”

“I’ll bring him to Deaton’s in the morning,” Derek says out loud.  "Meet me there at nine, we’ll figure it out.“   He lopes off, tucking Kiddo firmly against his chest, with one hand under a diapered butt and the other holding tight against Kiddo’s soft, delicate head.  

excuse you

but Derek discovering that the only thing to calm him down when he’s fussy is singing the wheels on the bus over and over again, and Stiles walking in on it. 

(I was listening to the EVA version of Fly me to the Moon while making this )