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I’ll Carry Your Love Like a Backpack

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Stiles briefly ponders his very fucked up situation before asking himself why everything is so much bigger from this perspective. And then he remembers the witches. The same witches who have been fucking around Beacon Hills for the past week and a half. He shakes his head and tries to move his arms to get up and finds he no longer has fingers. Well technically he does have fingers, but they’re more like long blunt claws. His gaze continues on to the soft amber coloured fur covering his arms and watches it shade into a light brown along his torso. Raising a paw to his face he finds he has a small wet nose, vaguely resembling that of a dog. He quietly lays there panicking and tries to call for someone from the pack to help him, but all that comes out of his mouth are small pathetic cries.


Great. Absolutely fucking great. Why is this his life?


All of a sudden there’s a large shape crashing out of the bushes to his left and Stiles lets out a very undignified squeak that he will deny making until the day he dies. He tries, ‘tries’ being the operative word here, to get away from the intruder by using his claws to push his small body along the ground. Stiles makes it about two feet before he’s being scooped up off the ground and held upside down by his hind legs. Terrified, he starts squeaking and trying to raise enough of a ruckus to get Derek’s attention, wherever he is. A clawed hand is none-too gently placed on his stomach and he’s raised to the eye level of who turns out to be Jackson.


“What the hell even is this thing? It looks like a failed monkey but smells like Stiles!”


Jackson continues to poke and prod at Stiles’ new body while sneering at him. Lydia and Erica make their entrance into the clearing and immediately rescue Stiles from Jackson’s clutches. Erica spends a few minutes gently turning Stiles around in her hands and sniffing him while Lydia taps away at her phone.


“I think this really is Stiles? I mean it smells like him and now that he’s not being manhandled by Jackson he seems to have quieted down a bit”, Erica smirks in Jackson’s direction. No longer in mortal terror, Stiles has stopped his frantic flailing and squeaking.


Lydia ignores both of them and gently plucks Stiles out of Erica’s hands. She raises him above her head like a baby and turns him this way and that while observing him clinically.


Bradypus Variegates.” Declares Lydia.


“Sorry what?” is Jackson’s confused response.


Lydia sighs dramatically and turns to glare at Jackson like his stupidity has personally offended her. It probably has. “The brown-throated three-toed sloth, obviously.“ She then flips her hair over her shoulder and pulls Stiles closer to her body. Stiles has no issues whatsoever with this new development, and promptly snuggles closer to Lydia’s warm body. He looks over her shoulder and gives Jackson a toothy grin from his prized perch. Jackson snarls viciously in his direction only to have Derek slap him upside the head.


“Shut up. Where’s Stiles?”


Erica quickly tries to explain “Well he’s been hit by the witches and so he’s-“


“Where the fuck is Stiles?” growls Derek, a hint of red bleeding into his eyes.


Erica nods over to where Lydia is cuddling Stiles close to her body and where Scott and Allison are cooing over how cute he is and how soft his fur is. Boyd and Isaac arrive just behind Derek and they all look over just in time to see Scott lean in closer to try to sniff Stiles’ fur only to have Stiles gently bat him on the nose for the effort.


Stiles looks over and once he sees Derek he starts to squeak and chirp excitedly.


Derek strides over and holds his hands out expectantly to Lydia, who sighs dramatically but hands Stiles over without question. Derek opens his leather jacket to provide a warm space for Stiles, who immediately uses his new claws to latch on to the collar of Derek’s shirt. Derek lowers his head to snuffle into Stiles’ fur and gives a pleased rumble upon finding him safe and whole. Derek hears the tell-tale click of someone’s cellphone taking a picture and straightens up to zip Stiles up into the safety of his jacket.


“Let’s go”


The pack all look at each other dubiously but start to make their way to the vehicles.


It’s two days later and they still haven’t found a solution to Stiles’ little problem. Later that day the pack arrives at the renovated Hale house. As per usual everyone immediately makes their way into the kitchen only to fall silent at finding Derek at the counter nonchalantly cutting up fruits and berries with Stiles happily clinging to the back of his shirt like a small knapsack. Derek seems to be completely calm while occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure Stiles hasn’t fallen off, while Stiles is cheerfully chattering away with the squeaks and chirps they’ve all come to expect from him. Derek only looks up when Stiles lets out an ungodly screech of happiness at seeing the pack and flails a bit when Stiles tries to launch himself off Derek and into Scott’s arms. Scott, with his super special wolfy reflexes, manages to catch Stiles before he hits the ground and Stiles rewards him by latching onto his forearm like a leech.


Allison and Lydia say their hellos to Derek and make their way to the kitchen table with a bag full of books to see if they can find a solution, while Boyd and Jackson head over to the fridge. Scott, Isaac, and Erica however are totally preoccupied with snuffling at Stiles’ fur and gently passing him back and forth for cuddles. Derek pulls out a package of blueberries and continues to chop up the fruit while glaring daggers at everyone touching Stiles. It’s only when Isaac holds Stiles up to his face for tummy rubs when Derek lets out a vicious snarl and promptly slices his hand on the knife.


Stiles, smelling the blood, starts making distressed squeaks and other noises in Derek’s general direction. Isaac looks up with a guilty look on his face and immediately brings Stiles over to place him securely onto Derek’s back.


Stiles clings to Derek’s collar and gently noses the soft hair at the base of his neck while Derek cleans off his finger for it to heal properly. Once the cut has healed Derek brings his hand up to Stiles’ face for him to inspect. Satisfied that Derek won’t die from his wounds Stiles slowly reaches a clawed paw out to Derek’s hand to grab him gently. Derek looks up in time to see the pups making their way into the living room to watch TV, and takes the opportunity to shift Stiles to the front of his shirt and into the crook of his arm. Stiles ends up falling asleep in Derek’s arms halfway through the pack meeting but no one can begrudge him for it because of how cute he is.


The next day the pack has another meeting because let’s face it, there’s only so long they can fool the sheriff into thinking his spastic son is on a weekend beach trip when he won’t be home as promised on the Sunday evening. So they need a plan that doesn’t look like it was slapped together at the last minute. As everyone squabbles, Derek spends the first half of the meeting regretting his poorly trained were-puppies and settles for cuddling Stiles while half-heartedly trying to corral them into some sense of order. Of course this is when things once again go to shit.


“Um Derek? Is Stiles supposed to be getting all glowy like that?” Isaac asks apprehensively.


Erica and Scott look up in alarm while Lydia and Allison move in closer to inspect the changes.


“How the hell am I supposed to know!? He’s like this because of magic and I hate to break it to you but it’s not like any of us are experts on the matter” Derek picks Stiles up, much to Stiles’ chagrin, and starts turning him this way and that to inspect him.


“Speak for yourself O’ great alpha” snarks Lydia.


Derek’s scathing reply is abruptly cut short when Stiles starts glowing from dull to painfully bright, followed a piercing ringing. Everyone is frozen in apprehension when Stiles seems to reach a peak level and explodes in a cloud of thick neon pink smoke. Between the coughing and hacking the smoke doesn’t clear until Allison rushes to open a window. All eyes immediately look to the source of the trouble only to find a very human, and very naked, Stiles sitting on Derek’s lap looking supremely peeved at his situation. Frozen in shock, all anyone can do is stare, until Derek bares his teeth and growls at them all for blatantly staring at Stiles’ body. Scott is, surprisingly, the first one to get his shit together. And by together he was the first person to start screaming.


“MY EYES! DUDE I SO DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR JUNK OH MY GOD!”


“WELL MAYBE IF YOU PASSED ME THE FUCKING BLANKET THAT YOUR FAT WOLFY ASS IS SITTING ON THEN MAYBE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO SEE IT”


“I’M NOT FAT!”


“GIVE ME THE FUCKING BLANKET SCOTT!”


“JESUS JUST COVER UP PLEASE!?!”


“I’M TRYING TO DO THAT YOU STUPID FAIL WOLF!”


After Stiles covers himself up, everyone calms down enough to get their collective shit together. Stiles pushes himself up off of Derek’s lap only to receive an epic pout and sad scrunchy werewolf face for his troubles.


“Yeah yeah calm your wolfy tits I’ll be back after stealing some of your clothes Mr. Sourwolf” grouses Stiles, making his way up the stairs.
Crisis averted, Scott and Isaac start to set up the Xbox to play some Mario Kart and Derek is left to sulk on his end of the couch, empty handed of any Stiles to hold. He only looks up again when Stiles makes his way down the stairs and feels his claws lengthen at the sight of Stiles in his clothes. Derek’s eyes start to turn red when their combined scents hit his nose, and he takes a deep long whiff. Stiles notices his wolfy ways and grins at him, and proceeds to carefully pick his way over and around the rowdy pups to Derek. Derek feels himself relax again only when Stiles plops himself right down onto Derek’s lap to demand more cuddles.


“I fully expect someone to send me that picture you took of me and Derek in the forest when I was all slothy and cute!” is all Stiles says to the room at large. Unsurprisingly, everyone ignores him.


Derek pretends to hate it, but his acting becomes moot when he starts giving out a please rumbling at the combination of scents and cuddles.

“Aww Sourwolf likes to cuddle!” Stiles teases gently.

Derek simply holds him closer, mutters “Shut up”, and presses a kiss to Stiles’ neck.