Sleeping With Giants

Babies are weird. John knows that just on principle. But he doesn’t just have a baby. He has a werewolf baby. And that’s...he’s still not quite sure. It’s been a month since he came home from the hospital with a brand new werewolf baby. His mom told him to say goodbye to sleep and relaxation because babies don't let you have either one. All the books he read told him he would be so stressed out he couldn't even sleep even when he got the chance. Except, so far, he's experienced none of those things.

John sleeps like a rock. He sleeps through anything and everything and hardly even stirs when Alex wakes up in the middle of the night and pulls him in closer so he can spoon him. He wakes up on a Sunday in May, his phone telling him it's nearly nine in the morning and the empty space in the bed next to him telling him Alex has once again taken care of everything.

John is sitting up in bed, scrolling through Twitter to catch up on important invents while he wakes up a little when Alex appears again. He's holding Jackson, who's trying very hard to pull Alex's hair out of his head.

"Daddy's awake!" Alex says happily when he sees John has decided to join the living. He crosses the room and puts Jackson down right in the middle of the bed. "We already had breakfast while you were sleeping."

"I would have gotten up with him," John mumbles, gently lifting Jackson into his arms. "You seriously need to stop letting me sleep through all the times he cries."

"I've told you, you need to sleep," Alex reminds him, climbing up on the bed and leaning against the headboard, legs spread out in front of him. "Besides, why wake you up when I'm perfectly capable? You have him all week. Let me do the hard parts while I'm home."

Alex always does the hard parts. He's always the one who wakes up when Jackson cries in the middle of the night. He's the one who gets up with him at six in the morning to feed him before he has to leave for work. But whatever. John won't point that out again.

Jackson is focused on the colar of John's t-shirt, fingers pulling it and stretching it out and trying to put it in his mouth. He's barely over a month old, but he's stronger than John expected, which was stupid. He's a werewolf. They're strong by nature. It's a little (a lot) nerve-racking, knowing that he's going to develop faster than a human baby would.

"My parents called this morning," Alex says after a few seconds of just watching Jackson squirm around in John's arms. "They want to visit."

"Okay," John shrugs. He doesn't care if they come or not. He shifts Jackson so he's laying on his back between his legs, looks up to find Alex looking worried. Or maybe constipated. Probably constipated. "You look weird."

"I was hoping you would be more averse to the idea,” he admits, “They’ll get pissed if I tell them I don’t want them here, but if they heard that you weren’t very keen on the idea, they wouldn’t be.”

John snorts in amusement, “I highly doubt that.” Jackson blinks up at him. “I don’t think it matters which of us doesn’t want them to come. They’d still be pissed.”

“Nah, not exactly. It’s a werewolf thing. I might be the Alpha but you’re my second, human or not. You’re the one who just had a baby. You’re the one who gets to make visitation decisions, not me.”
Of course. Figures. “I thought Martin was your second. You know, that guy who has been in your pack for years, the one with all those werewolf bright-sides? I’m just-”

“That’s - Martin is different. Martin is only if something...If I’m not here. Which I am. So let’s just-”

John nods, quickly interrupting him, “New subject. What are we doing today?”

“Well when you finally decide to get out of bed,” Alex teases, inching closer to John, “I made you breakfast downstairs. And Sierra is convinced we're going to the zoo. She has my car all packed already."

John sighs, lets Jackson wrap his fingers around his thumb. "I vaugely remember agreeing with her suggestion that a trip to the zoo would be fun."

"So. I guess that's what we're doing," Alex grins, leaning in and kissing John for the first time this morning. "I'll meet you back downstairs."

He leaves John with the task of getting himself and Jackson dressed for the day, which he guesses kind of makes up for sleeping through his early morning cries. Jackson is a squirmer. Getting him dressed single-handedly should be an Olympic sport. John would actually probably not win the gold medal. But that's because Alex and Jackson have that weird 'I'm-a-werewolf-and-so-are-you' connection and all Alex has to do is flash his eyes red and Jackson won't move a muscle.

"What's so great about flinging your arms all over the place?" John asks out loud, trying to shove his left foot into his sneaker and button up Jackson's onesie at the same time. "Staying still is cool too. It's my favorite thing."

Jackson just stares at him, blue eyes wide and mouth open as he shoves his fist in it, starts drooling all over himself.

"Sanitary."

While Jackson is a little more active and aware than most human one-month old babies, he's not any bigger than them and he's still fitting perfectly in all his newborn clothes. John is slowly starting to bring out the 3 month sizes, but he still has some more time, he thinks. Which is awesome, because this wolf onesie is the cutest thing he's ever seen in his life and when he pulls the hood up over Jackson's head, he can't help but take a picture and send it to his mom. Alex hates it. But that's what makes it so much better.

And as expected, when John turns up in the kitchen twenty minutes later, Alex immediately scowls.

"Really? A wolf onesie for the zoo?" He asks, rolling his eyes as he puts John's breakfast on the table. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"He looks cute," John defends, handing Jackson off to a willingly ready Matt, who instantly cuddles him close and offers him one of the pacifiers from the drying rack next to the sink.

"He does," Matt agrees, reaching and straightening the ears on Jackson's hood. "Look at these cute little ears."

John grins at Alex, taking a bite out of the bagel he made him. He's been lucky. The rest of the pack has been so obsessed with Jackson, just like Alex said they would be. Every single thing Jackson does is perfect and adorable and cute and they're always willing to hold him or feed him or watch him for a while if John wants to shower.

"I don't know why I expect anything different when I know I shouldn't trust you to dress him without my input," Alex says, taking Jackson out of Matt's arms. "But I'll just let you deal with all the people commenting on his outfit."

John shrugs. Alex thinks that dealing with other people is an inconvenience for John. But really. Any opportunity to talk about how cute his baby is is a great one.

The zoo isn't that crowded, which surprises John considering the weather is gorgeous and its a Sunday. But he takes it as a win, because he's noticed - when he takes Jackson to the grocery store or somewhere similar - that Jackson isn't a fan of crowds. They stress him out, according to Alex, because his werewolf senses make him twice as aware of them as a human baby would be.

"Look Jackson!" John says, just loud enough for Alex to hear him. "Relatives!"

Jackson barely reacts, barely even blinks at the wolves in the exhibit they're currently looking at. One is lounging on a rock, in a patch of sunlight. Alex grunts beside him and moves to take Jackson out of John's arms.

"Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to procreate with you," he mumbles, "You're the worst."

"And you're just grumpy," John states, helping him strap Jackson into the baby carrier on his chest. Because Alex is one of those dads. One of those hot dads that carries their baby around in basically what John calls a baby backpack. "Besides, I don't recall you ever asking me about starting a family. You just kind of did it."

Alex cracks a smile and runs his hand over Jackson's head, through his thin, dark hair. Jackson presses his face into Alex's chest, eyes closing as he's comforted by the closeness of his Alpha. Sometimes John wishes he could do that - wishes he could comfort his son as easily as just breathing near him.

"I love you," Alex mumbles, looking down at Jackson. But John knows it's directed towards him too. He can feel it.



Alex finally stops giving his parents the silent treatment when Jackson turns six months. At this point, he's more like an actual functioning human, sitting up on his own, laughing everytime someone sneezes, throwing blocks at the TV screen. He can hold his bottle on his own and he eats Cheerios and finds joy in knocking every single thing John gives him onto the floor. It's exhausting.

But Alex invites his parents over for the day - one day only, because he can't tolerate them for longer - and they show up one Saturday morning in October with armfuls of gifts. As if Jackson actually needs more things.

"I told you a thousand times on the phone to not bring anything," Alex says, sounding exasperated as he stares at the multiple boxes piled high in their living room.

"Oh I just assumed you were trying to be polite," his mother responds, waving off his obvious distress and opening up the one closest to her. "I probably should have known better but too late now."

She pulls out what John counts as over a dozen outfits - all ranging in size between 6 months and 18 months. He tries to look pleased at each one she hands to him but it gets a little rough when he starts thinking about the space they don't have for all this new shit.

Tay has Jackson, has him curled up in her lap and he's been so quiet ever since Alex's parents walked through the front door. He was playing with blocks, watching Zack pile them up high and knock them all down and pulling himself up by using the coffee table and now he's the opposite, clinging to Tay and chewing on her t-shirt. He won't let Alex's mom near him and John finds that endlessly amusing and satisfying.

"We already have a car seat," Alex snaps, nudging the box next to the couch with his foot. "I don't understand-"

John pinches his lower back, wordlessly reminding him of their earlier conversation - that his parents are only here for a few hours and there's no reason for anyone to start an argument over anything - and Alex is quick to shut his mouth and let his mom continue to pull out all of the gifts she brought with her from Virginia.

Alex's dad has been quiet for the most part. John knows that while Alex has a lot of deep-seated issues with his parents, they mostly stem from his mom. Sure, his dad is an asshole and kicked him out when he could barely fend for himself, but Alex has told John he got over that, that that's not even a part of the problem anymore. Sometimes John wonders if maybe he can convince Alex to talk to his dad one day. Like, actually talk. But that's not even a conversation John thinks they're anywhere near ready to have.

"What made you pick the name Jackson?" Alex's mom asks once she's finished showing everything off. She sits down on the couch next to Tay, angled so she can look at
Jackson while she talks. Jackson just whines and tries to hide himself in Tay's shirt. "Sounds more like a last name than a first."

John hates how distressed his son is acting, but Alex has yet to seem all that concerned. Plus, he's with Tay so he knows he's in good hands. "I picked it," he says defensively, "I just liked it. No reasoning behind it."

She hums and reaches out to brush her fingers through Jackson's hair. He barely reacts to her, and she sighs. "He's not very social towards people outside his pack. Not unusual but definitely hard to break that habit."

"I don't think I want him to break that habit," Alex tells her, "I want him to be social but I don't want him to be naive. People outside of his pack aren't always going to be safe."

John is out of the loop - when is he not, really. He hadn't been under the impression that Jackson could differentiate between who was pack and who wasn't. Obviously, he recognizes his Alpha. He knows that's Alex. But other than that, John hasn't noticed anything. But listening to Alex argue with his mom and noticing Jackson's behavior tonight, it makes sense.

"You talk a lot about keeping him safe but what about John?"

"What about him?"

She smiles - it's that same smile that John has come to know means nothing good. "John is human. How safe can he possibly keep him?"

John hates to admit it, but her words get to him. Alex is unhappy with her - lets her know as much with a quick threat to ask her to leave their property - but it doesn't help all that much. He still finds himself thinking about it during dinner, thinking about how they've ignored such an obvious issue. John is useless compared to werewolves. Every other member of the pack can keep Jackson safe. He can't do much.

"Don't think twice about it," Sierra says after dinner, standing in front of the coffee machine. She knows how to use it better than John does so she's been the go-to coffee maker ever since John somehow accidentally almost broke it. "She's so bitter and horrible."

She doesn't even try to keep her voice down, not that it would do any good. Alex's parents are still sitting right in the living room.

John shrugs. "I'm not thinking about it," he lies, but he knows she sees right through that. "I don't wanna talk about it."

He knows it's going to be talked about anyway, because Alex of course has already picked up on his distress over it and will want to 'talk and reassure' and John will have to deal. Plus, he'll already be all stressed out after his parents finally leave so there's that to look forward to too.

John avoids going back into the living room for as long as he thinks he can get away with, watching Sierra make cups of coffee to bring out. He's pretty sure the conversation going on between Alex, his parents and the various pack members who didn't escape the room fast enough is not exactly important.

Martin smartly must have been one of the few to escape the living room, because he comes into the kitchen wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt and Jackson on his hip.

"We're going running," he announces, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "Is his teething ring in here?"

"Freezer," John and Sierra both inform him. John wishes he could run more than a few feet without being in danger of a collapsed lung or something. He would totally join them just to escape the house.

"I'm assuming the diaper bag is in the stroller in the hallway?" Martin asks, coming over close enough for Jackson to reach towards John. "Oh - is it okay that he comes with me?"

"Yeah, sure," John shrugs as Jackson's fingers grip onto his t-shirt. "He loves it."

Which is true. Martin goes running a lot during the week whenever he has the chance, just to let off steam. The jogging stroller that Alex bought (and John still can't quite figure out why he did) would go totally unused if it weren't for Martin. And Jackson loves being outside. His heightened senses probably have a lot to do with that.

"Where's his jacket? No - don't get up, I'll find it. Oh, and by the way. Alex's parents are leaving."

It makes a lot more sense now that he's told him that. Of course Martin is taking Jackson out of the house. Alex is probably about ready to explode, ready to bitch and complain about how awful his parents are and how horribly they treat John and so on and so on. Not that John doesn't totally agree with him. He's just kind of not looking forward to the part of the conversation that he's dreading.

John fakes enthusiasm when Alex's mom suggests that they come visit again next month. She gushes about how sweet Jackson is (which is a total lie because Jackson spit up on her during dinner after he finally let her close enough to hold him and she totally did not appreciate that) and how excited she is to see him grow up (which she won't, because John's pretty sure Alex is never letting her come back again). His dad doesn't say much. He has a long, private conversation with Alex when Alex walks them out to the car and it only results in Alex flashing red eyes and slamming the front door shut as soon as he's back inside.

"I think I'll go do some laundry," Sierra says softly, brushing past Alex to head down to the laundry room. She lightly brushes her hand over his shoulder as he goes but he still stands there, tense and obviously not in the mood for much.

Kennedy lets out a deep sigh. "Well if she's doing laundry I should bring mine down for her to do."

He's followed by the rest of them, all mumbling excuses under their breath and it leaves John alone with Alex in the living room. Typical.

"Jackson's with Martin," John informs him, even though he's probably already well aware of it. "Jogging. Throwing pine cones at squirrels. Sneezing at every leaf that comes his way. The usual."

Alex doesn't even acknowledge that he heard John at all, instead turning around and heading up the stairs to the second floor. His steps are heavy and loud and he sounds like a child throwing a tantrum. John rolls his eyes and follows after him because even though Alex hasn't even said a word yet, he knows better than to let him shut himself up in their room by himself.

"I don't know about you but I could seriously use a beer after that," John says as they enter their bedroom. Alex is stripping already, throwing his dirty clothes towards the hamper but not making it in. "Also, I need a shower. Your mom always wears that gross perfume and I feel like it's permanently on me-"

Alex sighs, standing in front of the dresser. "John. Seriously."

"Seriously? Seriously what? You're the one being all caveman right now with the grunting and stamping his feet. I'm just talking. You know, that's kind of what I do best."

John sits on their bed, cross-legged and his elbows resting on his knees. Alex goes back to digging through the drawers, and John just waits. He'll talk eventually.

"She's just - I don't even have words for what she is," he says, twenty minutes later, after locking himself in the bathroom and taking a long shower. His hair is wet and he's only wearing sweatpants and John hates him because as hot as he looks right now, it's probably not the best time to point that out.

"She just doesn't even care. She just says whatever she wants and doesn't even care how she sounds."

"Well, I don't really take anything she says seriously so-"

"Don't lie to me," Alex snaps, sounding more frustrated than pissed off, so John isn't that concerned. "What she said about keeping Jackson safe. I know that hurt you."

"Okay, well that was-"

"I could feel it. I could feel how badly you felt and how much it hurt you to think about it and I hate that. I don't want you to feel like that. Ever."

John rolls his eyes, "Well that's a little dramatic."

"John - I'm not trying to be dramatic. What she said was wrong," Alex insists, and he pulls a t-shirt on over his head before climbing onto the bed to sit across from John. He reaches out and takes both of John's hands into his own and John can't do much other than stare down at them. "She says shit that she knows will piss me off. Just because - you don't have to be like me to keep Jackson safe."

John snorts in amusement at that. "Right. Because as a defenseless human who can hardly run without needing oxygen-"

"Why the hell are you running, anyway? You don't need to run to keep him safe."

"But you're - you're just. Better. More capable. I'm practically a liability!" John protests, pulling his hands from Alex's grip. "Everyone in this pack is more capable of protecting Jackson and if you would just bite me -"

"I'm not doing that."

"But why? Would it be that horrible?"

Because that's got to be the reason. Alex won't do it - won't bite him and turn him and he's so adamant about it that there has to be a reason. And it has to be that he just doesn't want John to be like him.

"No, it wouldn't," Alex tells him, "I would do it in a second if I knew it was what you really wanted. But it isn't. And I'm not going to change you, change everything about you and who you are, just because it would be 'nice' if you were a werewolf too."

"But I do-"

"You don't. I know you don't."

John swallows hard and he holds his arms out in front of him, palms facing up. "I definitely do."

Alex takes him by surprise when he grabs his left arm, fingers curling around tightly. He raises one eyebrow and shifts so he's at a better angle and John's heart feels like it's in his throat. "You sure about that?" He asks, pulling him closer without even trying.

John finds himself pulled to his knees on the bed, his arm tightly in Alex's grip. When Alex smiles at him, he doesn't miss the sudden sharpness to his canines, can't ignore theway his nails dig into his skin. "Do it."

"You really, really want me to," Alex mumbles, lowering his head closer to where he's holding John's arm. "You really want to be like me."

"I- Alex, just-"

Alex's lips press to his skin and John can't hear anything except the blood rushing through his ears. He parts his lips against John's skin, his fangs making the tiniest imprint, and suddenly this isn't at all what John wanted.

"Wait! No-" he pulls his arms from Alex's hand, too quickly. Alex's teeth still graze his skin and there are two thin red lines there now. "You're right, I didn't-"

Alex sighs, runs his fingers over the scratches on his skin, whipping away the blood that's rising to the surface. "I know," he says softly, "I wasn't going to."

John's heart is still racing and his skin burns where he was scratched, but he feels stupid now. Stupid for trying to convince himself of something he didn't actually want, and stupid for reacting too quickly, for thinking Alex would ever hurt him like that.

"John, it's fine," Alex promises, "Don't - just...let's put something on this so it doesn't get infected."

John doesn't move, too focused on the cuts on his arm, and Alex sighs and gets up from the bed. John hears him go into the bathroom, hears the light flick on and hears him rummage through the crap stored under the sink for the first aid kit they keep.

"You're lucky this actually has any bandaids in it," he announces when he comes back into the room. He climbs back up in front of John, tells him to keep his arm right in front of him, and he uses an antiseptic wipe to clean up the blood and presses a square bandaid down over it. "I'll clean it again in the morning but it should be fine."

"Thanks," John mumbles, finally dropping his arm to his side. "Sorry-"

Alex shushes him, interupts his apology. "Don't."

"Okay."

"I love you."

John breathes in deep and nods, mostly to himself. "I know."


Jackson takes his first steps at nine months, but they're the only steps he takes for a while because apparently, walking is too much work and crawling is a much preferred method of transportation. John doesn't mind. Honestly, the idea of Jackson walking around the house like an actual person is terrifying. So he doesn't push it. But Alex does.

"He has to get used to walking eventually," is his reasoning and while okay, sure, decent point, John doesn't care.

"Whatever. He likes crawling."

Jackson is at John's feet, playing with the laces of his sneakers. He's fascinated by them and the way he can twist them around his fingers and shove them inside John's shoe and somehow tie them into knots.

"It's not like he can hurt himself if he falls," Alex reminds him, bending down and lifting Jackson up so he's standing on his feet. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

"Sorry if I'm not exactly used to the fact that my baby is a werewolf and has freaky super-healing powers."

Jackson looks confused as to why he's been placed on his feet and why he's not playing with John's shoelaces anymore. He wobbles a little bit, and John has to force himself not to reach out and grab him and steady him.

"See?" Alex says as Jackson takes a few steps towards him. "He's a natural."

Jackson doesn't crawl much after that. John is honestly a little disappointed.



When Jackson turns one, John doesn't cry. He swears he doesn't. He gets a little bit teary eyed watching him as he sits with Sierra in the kitchen and watches her make his birthday cake. But there's no actual crying.

Alex cries. But John has sworn up and down he will never ever mention it again. Because Alex is the Alpha. And apparently, Alphas don't cry when their kids turn one.

They sing happy birthday to Jackson, and it must be too overwhelming for him, with his sensitive ears and the amount of people in the room. He starts crying as soon as it starts and doesn't stop when they're done, and to John's surprise, there are now tiny little claws digging into his shoulder where there should definitely not be claws.

"He freaked himself out," Alex reasons almost immediately when John points it out to him. He takes Jackson from John, saves his shoulder the pain. "It happens. He can't control these things at all yet."

"But - how do we...?"

John is baffled by this. Alex never told him this could happen. It makes him nervous. He doesn't want his kid to be so distressed that he shifts without control.

"He just needs to calm down," Alex tells him. "It's fine."

Jackson is fine, like Alex said. But the rest of the day, John is unsettled. He's nervous and anxious and he has no idea what to expect in the coming weeks/months/years. Alex knows it all. But John is kind of in the dark.

"What if something happens and you're not around and I have no idea what to do?" He voices his concerns, whispering through the dark of their bedroom.

Alex groans, rolls over onto his side so he's facing away from John. "You're stupid."

"I'm serious you asshole," John hisses, punching Alex right in the hip. "What if-"

"Honestly, John. You'll just know. Weird werewolf bullshit or not. You think I'm going to just leave you in the dark about all this?"

Well. Yes. But thinking about it again, it does sound incredibly stupid. John sighs and sinks back into the mattress. "This kid is taking years off my life."

Alex hums. "Just wait till we have more. You'll be a pro."

"We are not having more."

John can't even pretend that he believes that statement.