Stiles was expecting a fresh start. A life where he wasn't constantly worrying about Supernatural threats, a place where he could go to Uni, get a degree, and move on from his teenage years at Beacon Hills— not a life where he was chasing a four year old girl to get her to bed in his own damn dormroom.

George Washington University. Stiles had it all set out for him— he had a plan, something the pack never had the best ones of. He was gonna graduate University, get into that trial in Virgina, join the FBI and help people, he knew what he wanted to do with his life— finally. But, clearly, some unknown force had different plans for him.

Or, more like, a drunken college girl who just so happened to be his dormie neighbour. Yes, that's right— you. And you're pain in the ass, absolutely adorabley sweet, mouthy little bundle of joy.

Okay, so, Stiles left Beacon Hills, said his goodbyes, and got the fuck out of there— he loved the place, don't get him wrong, but Stiles needed to figure out who he was, aside from werewolves and concubines. So, yeah, University seemed like the ideal choice, considering he had his heart set on the FBI job too, seemed like he had a knack for helping others when they needed it the most. Even you.

But still— babysitting his dorm neighbours kid when he could be studying for that super hard exam tomorrow? Not exactly the sort of “helping” he had in mind.

Anyways, back to how this all unravelled— so yeah, Stiles joined University, and halfway through his first semester, he noticed some weird things about you. Stealing snacks from the vending machine outside of the Psychology class, staying out later than even some frat guys did and coming back with weird stuff— specific stuff, like toilet paper and diapers.

It all finally clicked when Stiles walked into you're dormroom without knocking, needing some textbook you borrowed from him last week for a test. After entering you're messy room, he was met with the sight of the TV playing some kids show with you fast asleep on you're bed, as well as you're little girl all curled up against you're chest—

Oh, so you had a kid? You had a fucking kid— it took Stiles a whilst to get it, but then he connected the dots. The rumours that you were a big party girl in college, the fact you already had to stay in University an extra year, not to mention you're grades were dropping like crazy. So, he did what any normal person would do— after avoiding a beating when you stirred upon the noise of the floorboards, assuming Stiles was being some creep watching you and you're kid sleep— he helped you.

Stiles helped in any way he could; he always stayed over at you're dorm to help with Aphrodite— a name you picked out because you claimed you're gorgeous little girl was as pretty as you were— he made excuses when you were late to lectures, he tucked the girl in when she fell asleep, as had you, when you stayed up too late studying, trying to get you're life back on track. Stiles would tuck you in too— drape a blanket over you're unconscious form lolled against the desk, switch the lights off for the both of you.

And now this— practically jumping from bed to floor to try and put the troublemaker to sleep, the girl giggling non-stop, eyes glistening with mischief as she dodges Stiles' grasp. “No— Aphro— hey, stop!” He would've been glad for you're help, but you were a little busy focusing on studying at Stiles' desk right now, waving a dismissive hand over you're head at his calls for assistance. “No, hey! Addie, don't you dare!”

The girl almost pauses at the nickname Stiles uses for her, before bursting into a fit of giggles, making a beeline for the door, until he fucking finally snags her in his arms, lifting her off of the ground with little difficulty. “Nuh-uh, come on, bed time, now, kiddo.”

As much as helping you with you're kid was exhausting, mentally and physically, he knew he'd never get bored of it— Stiles knew he wouldn't really ever want it any other way, you guys were like his new pack, in a sense. And Stiles loves his pack.