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A small surprise

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Living with the supernatural for a few years lets you build a certain resistance to things that other people, normal people, would usually freak out about. Hence it’s a pretty decent testament to the fucked-upness of their life that nobody’s overly distraught when a lunatic witch de-ages one of their pack members. If one were to ask Isaac, Stiles had it coming. The way he’d mouthed off to the crazy person with the magical powers had been plain stupid. Yet, nobody asks Isaac. Probably because one half of the pack doesn’t want to and the other doesn’t need to.

In any case, toddler Stiles is now drowning in his T-shirt and hoodie, the pants having bid farewell the moment the body shrank, and giving the pack a genuinely surprised look with his big brown eyes. Scott, of course, is crouching down in front of the child with a mostly easy smile.

“Hey buddy! Everything alright? Are you hurt?” The boy shakes his head and Scott’s smile loses its edge. “Great! Do you know who we are?” Stiles nods with a bit of hesitance. It seems good enough for Scott who mirrors the nod enthusiastically. “Alright. Let’s get you to Deaton, then.”

Everything looks calm and nice until Scott tries to pick him up.

“No!” the toddler stumbles over his adult clothes to get out of dodge. “I don’t wanna!” And once Stiles has left the shoes, socks and pants behind, he’s surprisingly quick.

Isaac sees Scotts face fall and feels a pang of commiseration but he’s quickly distracted by Stiles arriving at his apparent destination: The toddler comes to a stop in front of Derek, raising his arms and demanding in the most commanding tone: “You carry me!”

Now that’s a plot twist.

The whole pack waits in anticipation: If Derek acts like he always does around Stiles, the kid will probably cry in under a minute. At first, the alpha in question looks down at this child like it’s some weird alien creature which, knowing Stiles for years, is probably not far off. But then, from one moment to the other, Derek’s features soften - He doesn’t exactly smile or do anything else with his face that may have a placating or calming effect on children, but he frowns less which does a lot to his whole aura – and stoops to roll up Stiles’ hoodie sleeves and pick him up. The boy makes a pleased noise and immediately slings both arms around his neck to cuddle closer.

The look on their alpha’s face is a previously unseen mix of surprise and cautious contentment.

So before Erica ruins the moment and starts to coo, Jackson turns to walk towards their cars. “Let’s go to Deaton’s. I’ve got better things to do with my Saturday than standing in the woods just because Stilinski lost his pants.”

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“… and then m’dad said tomatoes are fruit an’ not veggies!” Stiles babbles excitedly when Allison enters the kitchen. The boy sitting on the counter, diligently pointing out any spot Derek might have missed while cleaning whereas the latter is mostly ensuring that the kid doesn’t hurt himself in his exuberant flailing while sometimes checking in with the food in the oven. It’s awfully adorable.

For a moment, Allison simply stands in the doorway and watches them.

“Ally!” Stiles greets her with a bright grin and a wave. He’s warmed up to the rest of the pack very quickly. Derek’s still his favorite by far – nobody’s really surprised. But the wave is more forceful and uncoordinated than expected and the boy slams the back of his hand into the edge of a cupboard. For a moment, everything and everyone in the room freezes, waiting for the first wail.

Derek is the first to shake off his paralysis. He throws his rag into the sink, dries his hands on his pants and reaches for Stiles who’s still not quite decided on the appropriate reaction, though his lower lip is wobbling precariously.

“Hey. Everything’s going to be fine.” Allison’s never heard such a soothing tone from Derek but there it is and it seems to be working. The Alpha takes the injured hand in his and cups Stiles’ nape with the other so the boy is looking at him. “Let me show you some werewolf magic, okay?” Derek smiles and waits for the boy to nod. He then lifts their joined hands and blows cold air onto the injury in three gentle puffs. The effect seems to be immediate because Stiles’ Bambi eyes grow even larger as he looks from Derek to his hand and back to Derek. The pure adoration in his look feels almost tangible.

Allison can’t help herself: she pulls out her phone to take a picture. By the time she’s done, the hand on Stiles’ neck is already void of dark lines.

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“That one! Pleeeeaaaaase!”

Lydia looks up to what Stiles is excitedly pointing at and she can’t help the twitch of her lips. A mannequin to their left is wearing a well crafted black coat with a cream colored lining that would be nothing out of the ordinary if not for the black ears on the hood. They even have soft cream colored fluff sticking out of them. It’s obviously owed to the trend to make children’s clothes as adorable as possible but she silently agrees with Stiles: the coat is perfect.

Their little shopping trip is almost over and for a child with Stiles’ energy, he has behaved surprisingly well. Therefore she’s very much inclined to buy him a treat and if she is being honest with herself: this she would still get him after a whole morning of temper tantrums.

This is pure gold – and not only because she wants to see Derek’s reaction.


When they get back to the house, Stiles, dressed in his newest acquisition, is running towards the porch as soon as Lydia has opened his door and unbuckled him.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts, brimming with excitement.

Derek, having come to meet them, stops in his tracks.

“Derek look! I’m a wolf now! Jus’ like you!” The boy almost runs into the alpha’s legs when he finally comes to a halt.

“You sure are, buddy.” Derek visibly melts at the sight in front of him, not even trying to keep a straight face.  He crouches down to play with one of the ears. “You look very wolfy.”

The boy practically beams at him and grabs a corner of Derek’s Henley. “Can I run with you now?” he asks eagerly, Bambi eyes in full force.

And sure enough, Derek caves. “After lunch. When you’ve had your nap.”

The following shout of excitement must have Derek’s ears ringing but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Lydia knows Derek will try to give her the stink eye for kidnapping Stiles in the name of fashion later, but she knows him well enough by now to call bullshit.

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The first official pack meeting since Stiles became tiny starts a lot earlier than usual because Derek insists on a strict bedtime that has the little guy sleeping around 8pm – after a decent bedtime story, of course. Opposed to what the rest of the pack is thinking, the blatant favoritism his best friend is showing towards the alpha doesn’t faze him. True, at first it stung a little, but now Scott is simply relishing in the safe knowledge that big Stiles can’t ever deny his feelings for Derek anymore.

Anyway, the pack is actually having a late lunch because they’re waiting for the last stragglers to arrive, namely Boyd and Peter. Boyd is the first to enter the big kitchen and Stiles is quick to abandon his food and chair to greet the beta, but his latest tale – “Awesome hero Derek saves young Stiles from the vicious mushrooms on his pizza” – comes to an abrupt end, when he sees Peter. The scent of fear appears in the air and Derek is out of his chair before Peter can do as much as take another step forward.

“Calm down, nephew.” The zombie wolf rolls his eyes. “I was just saying hi.” This is directed at Stiles who still looks wary and keeps a bit of distance to the newcomers.

Not waiting for Derek’s further reaction, Peter crouches down in front of Stiles and, to Scott’s surprise, considers the boy thoughtfully but without malice. “You don’t like me much, do you?” Stiles’ response is a half-shrug-half-nod kind of thing. “Well, usually I’d say the feeling is mutual since you once set me aflame, but – “

Derek doesn’t let his uncle finish the sentence before he picks Stiles up and protectively cradles him in his arms. “Peter!” he growls and his usually iron grip on his wolf slips and he shifts. “Cut it out.”

The pack watches with rapt attention since Derek hasn’t shifted into another form than his fluffy full shift wolf since Stiles shrank. Scott knows some of them expect Stiles to be scared but he knows better and his knowledge of his best friend is once again confirmed when Stiles’ tension melts away like ice cream under the Californian sun. The boy reverently pats the newly appeared sideburns, giggles while touching the sharp fangs, makes boop sounds when he pats the wrinkly nose and is all in all quite content until his eyes move further up.

“Derek? Where are your eyebrows?”