Chapter Text
Stiles sat at his desk while he watched a movie on his computer. So far he was safe in his “avoid alpha werewolf Derek Hale at all costs” hideaway. Granted, his hideaway was his room, but he had yet to see Derek, so clearly his hideaway was doing its job. It had been nearly a week since Derek returned to normal, and Stiles was more than glad that he was still alive. Derek would probably want to rip his throat out for babysitting him the last couple of weeks. Hopefully Derek would take into consideration how little Stiles actually disciplined him. Or how Stiles defended him against awful Michael Murphy. Or how Stiles usually let Derek eat a second helping of dessert after every meal. Those reasons alone should keep Derek from being upset with Stiles’ babysitting technique.
But dealing with a bratty toddler was one thing. Dealing with a full grown alpha werewolf would be quite another. Stiles was busy shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth when he heard his window slide open.
“You have my phone.”
Stiles nearly dropped all his chips on the floor, but when he saw it was Derek, he finished shoveling them into his mouth and grabbed Derek’s phone off his desk. Stiles had asked Scott to give it to Derek, but Scott kept forgetting it each time they hung out. Stiles was pretty sure Scott was trying to get him killed. If Derek had to come get it himself, Stiles would be a dead man. Scott just didn’t take the situation seriously. Which was why Stiles planned on holding Scott accountable if Stiles ended up dead at the hands of Derek Hale.
“Sorry, sorry, I kept asking Scott to give it to you,” Stiles apologized, handing the phone over to Derek. Stiles gulped a few times. If Derek was going to yell at him, now would be the time.
Derek tentatively held the phone in his hand, turning it over as if to check for scratches.
“I swear I didn’t do anything to it!” Stiles really hadn’t. After he took it away from the toddler, he put it up on the highest shelf in his room and kept it there hidden out of sight from the three and a half year old. It had been difficult not looking through the phone, but Derek would know if Stiles was lying about tampering with it.
Derek moved away from Stiles’ desk and stared at one of the drawings taped up on Stiles’ wall. “What’s that?”
Stiles stood up from his chair. “Oh, that’s you and Laura, but she’s a wolf. Though I’m pretty sure you just drew a wolf and decided to call it Laura. Or just drew a circle and decided to call it a wolf.” Stiles squinted at the drawing. Their bodies were really just circles with legs and hands sticking out. It was sort of funny. But the back stories for the drawings were all pretty detailed. Stiles looked back at his computer. He should probably create labels to add underneath the drawings.
“No,” Derek scoffed. “What are these drawings still doing in here?”
“Oh, well,” Stiles scratched his head, “I didn’t really know if I should take them down. It seemed kind of mean to throw them away, and it’s not like they’re destroying the integrity of my room,” Stiles shrugged.
Derek looked around the room. He was quiet for awhile, but then Derek turned toward Stiles. “I remember what happened, you know,” Derek said nonchalantly. Stiles nodded and waited for Derek to yell at him for having bathed him and giving him scheduled snacks. Instead Derek continued on. “You’re part of this pack. Allison, Danny, Lydia, and you are all part of this pack at all times. So you need to come to pack meetings.” Derek turned back toward the drawing on the wall. “Or would you prefer to not be in the pack? Because you’re free to leave it if that’s what you want.”
Stiles stared at the back of Derek’s head before nodding. “No, I’m definitely alright with being part of the pack.” Stiles would take that over being ripped apart any day. Stiles wanted to cheer at the lack of violence and anger being directed at him, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead Stiles bounced on his toes while he waited for Derek to finish his speech.
Derek continued walking around Stiles’ room, pausing every now and then to examine the drawings better. “My betas keep telling me to apologize to you for having to deal with me as a toddler.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that, uh, bad,” Stiles sputtered, caught off guard once more.
Derek tried to gauge Stiles’ response. Derek wasn’t sure how to bring up what he really wanted to say. He could just flat out tell Stiles the truth about how he liked the spastic teenager. Or that he considered how Stiles would be a good mate, but he didn’t want to do either. No, Derek just wanted to thank him.
Stiles didn’t have to take care of Derek. For once, Derek’s survival didn’t coincide with Stiles’ survival. If Derek were to die or be kidnapped or to just age all over again naturally, it wouldn’t really have any direct effect on Stiles. And yet Stiles had bought him clothes, fed him, bathed him, and figured out a way to make all the night terrors stop. He even helped Derek resolve some trust issues. None of that benefitted Stiles. And Stiles hadn’t really believed he would be compensated with money for babysitting Derek.
Despite Stiles constantly repeating how “the alpha was sure to owe me a few thousand favors after this,” it was always a lie. Stiles never once believed Derek would pay him back at all, and yet he still took care of the toddler. Derek tucked his phone in his back pocket.
“Thanks.”
Stiles stumbled as he shuffled closer to Derek. “What?”
“Thanks,” Derek repeated.
Stiles furrowed his brow as his eyes narrowed on Derek. Derek had thanked him a few times during their acquaintanceship, but Stiles could probably count them all on his hand and they had all been for serious life threatening situations. But right now, Stiles took the opportunity to glare at Derek. Stiles just knew there had to be some backhanded compliment coming soon. Derek was close enough to Stiles that Stiles could feel Derek’s breath hit his face.
“You like me,” Derek said, though it could’ve been taken as a question.
“Sure,” Stiles drawled. Stiles didn’t know how he should finish that statement. “I like you as a friend?” Stiles shrugged. They hadn’t really openly agreed to being friends, but it was a possibility. And it seemed like the best route for this conversation.
Derek smirked, and Stiles wanted to claw his eyes out. “No, you like me.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, but in an instant, Derek pressed his lips against Stiles’. Stiles inhaled while he pressed his hands up against Derek’s chest. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is serious pedophile stuff,” Stiles gasped, shoving Derek as far away as possible.
Derek rubbed his lips. He was pretty sure Stiles had bit him. “Stiles, you’re eighteen.”
“But you,” Stiles waved a hand. “You’re!” Stiles shook his head. “I-I-I bathed you and cuddled you and babied you. You were a baby almost a week ago!” Stiles felt the need to gargle with Listerine.
“Toddler,” Derek countered.
“Yeah, I know, three and a half.” Stiles scrubbed his hand over his face. “Dude! I’m a major creeper right now.”
“Stiles.”
“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young man.” Stiles collapsed backward onto his bed, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face, but lowered it to yell at Derek. “The entire pack is going to think I should be on a watch list now. Multiple watch lists! FBI watch list, the neighborhood watch list, How to Catch a Predator candidate list if that’s even a thing.” Stiles exhaled. “Danny’ll probably hack my computer to make sure I haven’t visited any creepy, illegal porn sites,” Stiles whined. “Which I haven’t,” he belatedly added.
“You know, I can tell when you’re lying.”
“Hey!” Stiles shrieked. “I haven’t been looking at kiddie porn! Dude! Just, no.”
Stiles felt goose bumps spread over his skin. The only time images of toddlers were on his computer was when Lydia created a private blog dedicated to hosting pictures of their precious bb!alpha and texted everyone in the pack the password. It was one huge archive of all the pictures and videos that the pack accumulated over the two weeks when Derek was a toddler. The most popular post was a video of Derek explaining multiple drawings hanging on the wall while Erica interviewed him. It was really precious hearing Derek when he was a toddler explain all the drawings he put in “his babysitter ’Tiles’” room.
But Stiles was so glad he missed that particular pack meeting. Lydia refused to take down the blog, and from what Scott told Stiles, Derek wasn’t at all pleased. But at least Stiles wasn’t in direct trouble. That blog was all Erica and Lydia’s idea.
Stiles pressed the pillow back into his face, holding onto it as Derek tried pulling it away from Stiles’ face. But Stiles refused to let it go, even when his pillow was pulled so far that he was stuck sitting up in his bed. Eventually Derek gripped Stiles’ hands and pried them off of the pillow. Regretfully, Stiles dropped it, but he scrunched up his face when he saw Derek smirking.
“Bad, bad wolf,” Stiles scolded.
Stiles glared at Derek, but Derek only smirked back at him. Stiles groaned. Just as creeped out as Stiles was, he was pretty turned on. But it just felt so wrong. If this had happened weeks ago, Stiles would’ve gone along with it, but instead he had to put the brakes on this because wow, he really couldn’t get the image of awkward bath time out of his head.
Stiles pulled away from Derek, ignoring what it might look like when he was laying with his back on the bed while Derek stood in between his legs. “I hate you and this is wildly inappropriate,” Stiles gasped.
Derek released Stiles’ hands and frowned. Usually Derek’s instincts never failed him this spectacularly, but Derek turned to go. It didn’t matter if Stiles was lying or if Stiles’ pheromones were arguing otherwise; Stiles was telling him ‘no.’
However, Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm, stopping Derek from leaving. “Hey, I’m pretty sure I’m better than just some hit it and quit it thing,” Stiles complained. Stiles looked back at the bed. He really wanted to get the thought of feeling like a pedophile out of his head. He wasn’t some adult creeping on a toddler. He was an adult, and Derek was an adult. They were both adults. Adults. Maybe if Stiles repeated it over in his head enough times, it would feel like a word with more meaning. “Seriously, we can definitely hang out and maybe when I’m no longer feeling like a pervert, we can go back to working our way up to…other things.” Stiles shrugged, unsure how Derek would respond to that.
However, after twenty minutes of lying on the bed talking, which then turned into thirty minutes with Derek Hale on top of him and kissing him like there’s no tomorrow, Stiles thought yeah, he could definitely get over feeling like a pervert sooner than later. Though…
“Your oral fixation is starting to make a lot of sense. Just throwing this out here, you were a thumb sucker.” Derek paused from the hickey he was currently making on Stiles’ neck. “Seriously, I have pictures.”
Derek rubbed his thumb over the bruise forming on Stiles’ neck. “Freud was a misogynistic idiot.”
“And yet my desktop picture is of you as a toddler sucking your thumb during naptime,” Stiles chimed.
Derek stared at Stiles. “Maybe you are a pervert.”
Stiles shifted under Derek. “No, no, I’m not! I just happen to find your toddler antics hopelessly adorable and I mourn the return of your newfound adulthood.” Stiles chanced a glance at Derek, but Derek was smiling.