Imagine all the Hale kids plus their cousins all at the park and kid stiles is there playing with kid Cora and her cousins then they make Derek play with them. Derek is classic middle child. He’s older than the little kids but younger than Laura and the other cousins. Stiles absolutely loves playing with Derek. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with the werewolf kids and even the human ones too but Derek stays behind with stiles until he catches up. Then when it’s time to leave Talia calls over the kids with a loud whistle (lol my mom actually does this) and all the kids all start herding back to the car, including stiles who is just following along. It takes Talia when they’re half way home to realize that she took an extra kid with her, she didn’t even smell him cause they’ve all been rolling around him all day. Good thing she knows Claudia so she won’t be too freaked out.
She gets half way home and realises there’s 11 heartbeats in the back seat when there should only be 10 (I know, what car fits 11 kids, we’ll, they’re small and children - especially werewolf pups - have no regards for safety). She pulls over and turns around to see stiles sitting between Cora and Derek with a big smile on his face.
I like to think that Talia, Noah and Claudia grew up around the same time and know each other well, or maybe Peter caused a lot of trouble growing up and Noah was a new deputy that often had to deal with him (like Parrish with Stiles), so she knows Stiles and just drives him home. Chances are, Stiles snuck out of the house to go play at the park in the first place.
"He had been twelve years old, as his old life ended, as he lost his family and with them his pack... as he was suddenly and completely alone in a world full of war.
Now he was sixteen... and not alone anymore. But the boy, Stiles, was a different story. A story Derek sometimes.. still wished to forget again right away."
__________________________________________________________
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale
Additional Tags: Kid Fic, Kid Derek Hale, Young Derek, Young Derek Hale, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Fluff, First Dates
Summary:
Eight-year-old Derek spends his recesses alone, until one day a little boy comes and asks him on a ‘date’.
Stiles’ spark allows him to create infinite pockets, which means he gets up to infinite mischief.
For @loveyprophet
Stiles sat on the seat next to his father’s desk, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and a thick puffer vest. His Batman backpack – that was as big as he was – rested against the leg of his chair. He swung his legs back and forth beneath the chair, waiting as patiently as he could for his dad.
He took another bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich as his eyes rolled around the room, taking in everything he had seen before. His eyes focused on the plaque that sat on his father’s desk: Deputy J Stilinski.
The bullpen was full of quiet chatter as the deputies answered phone calls or talked quietly with each other over cases.
“Stiles,” his dad said, stepping over to his side. “The puppy from the K9 unit has gone missing, do you know where it went?”
“No,” Stiles said, looking up at his dad with doe eyes.
“Alright,” his dad said, raking his fingers through his hair. He turned slightly, looking around the bullpen. He paused, turning back to look at his son. His brow furrowed with confusion. “Stiles? Where did you get that sandwich?”
“From my pocket,” Stiles said innocently.
“Huh,” John muttered. He crouched in front of his son. “And you haven’t seen the puppy?”
Stiles shook his head.
A quiet bark interrupted them, coming from Stiles’ jacket pocket and muffled slightly.
“Mieczysław,” his father said warningly.
Stiles bowed his head. He carefully set his sandwich down on the edge of his father’s desk and shuffled off the chair and onto his feet. The soles of his shoes lit up, flashing bright colours as the boy straightened himself and tugged at his jacket sleeves with his chubby hands. He pulled his jacket off and carefully – meticulously – laid it down on the floor before reaching into the pocket.
His eyes lit up with a flash of white as his hand sank further into his jacket, is if reaching through the coat and into a hole in the floor. He pulled out the German Shepard puppy that was nearly as big as he was, the dog’s legs dangling as Stiles struggled to hold him. He hugged the puppy and looked up at his dad sheepishly.
The puppy squirmed out of his arms, running in circles around the boy before stopping to sit beside him and let the boy run his little hands through his soft fur.
“I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly.
His dad couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and gently tousled his son’s hair. “I know you love him, kiddo. But he’s training to work with the police and needs to go home with his trainer. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll get a dog one day, okay?”
“Okay,” Stiles mumbled.
“Do you want to walk him back to his trainer?” his dad asked.
Stiles nodded.
John picked up Stiles’ jacket, holding out his other hand to his son.
The puppy happily walked beside them as they made their way out the back of the police station where a man stood, looking around. When he saw the puppy, his shoulders dropped with relief.
The puppy galloped over to the man who knelt down to pet him.
Stiles shuffled forward, wringing his hands anxiously.
“I’m really sorry,” Stiles said quietly, looking down at his feet.
The man smiled at the boy. “You know, Bear – here – could use a friend. Maybe you can come and play with him after he’s finished training?”
Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked from the man to his dad. “Can I?”
John smiled and gently tousled his son’s hair. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “We’ve got to go home now, so say goodbye.”
Stiles gently pet the dog’s head before walking back over to his dad’s side.
John held out his jacket, helping him put his arms through the sleeves and shrug the jacket on. He held his hand out for Stiles.
Stiles took his dad’s hand, glancing over his shoulder and waving goodbye to the trainer and Bear.
“Stiles,” his father started slowly, keeping his voice quiet as he helped his son into the car seat in the back of his cruiser.
“I was naughty, I know,” Stiles said, his voice riddled with guilt.
“I think you and your mum need to have a talk about how you use your special powers,” John said softly. He ruffled his son’s hair, smiling sweetly before shutting the door and climbing into the driver’s seat.
Stiles was thrown backwards. His body hit something solid, knocking the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground.
He coughed, gasping for air as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He reached out, grabbing at the iron lettering of the BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL plaque and pulling himself up to his feet.
He ran the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the stream of blood that dripped from his nose.
“Alright, you son of a bitch,” he growled.
The Alpha turned, tilting its head as its glowing red eyes watched Stiles with curiosity.
The teen’s eyes lit up with a flash of white as he buried his hand in his pocket and drew out a baseball bat. “Come at me!”
The Alpha howled, baring its teeth as it dug it’s claws into the dirt and charged at Stiles.
Stiles held up the bat and swung.
There was a sickening crack as the metal bat collided with the Alpha’s jaw, knocking them aside.
The Alpha hit the ground, letting out a weak groan as its eyes fell shut. Its hair began to recede as its body morphed back into its human form.
Stiles took a step forward, his hands aching as he tightened his grip on the baseball bat and craned his neck to look at the man.
The dull glow of the streetlight that hung over them lit up the man’s face, the skin rippled with burns and scars that were still healing. HIs long brown hair falling forward over his face.
“Peter,” Stiles gasped. He took a step back, looking at Scott with a stunned expression. “The Alpha is Peter Hale.”
He turned to look at Derek.
The young man stared back at him with an expression of shock and confusion.
“How—?” Derek stammered.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, your sister was the Alpha. Peter killed her and took—”
“No,” Derek interrupted. “The bat. Where did you get the bat from?”
“My pocket,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.
“How?” Derek squawked. “How do you fit a baseball bat in your pocket?!”
“Infinite pockets,” Stiles answered.
“No, don’t say that like it’s obvious,” Derek said, growing more frustrated the more confused he was. “Don’t say that like it’s normal!”
Stiles’ brow furrowed with confusion. A second later his eyes widened. “Oh, right, you don’t know. I’m a spark.”
“A spark,” Derek repeated back.
“Yeah,” Stiles said. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a PB and J sandwich. “I’ve been doing this since I was three.”
“So you can just pull anything out of your pocket?” Derek asked, his brows knitted together in though.
“Pretty much,” Stiles said. He smirked as he held up his sandwich. “Endless PB and Js.”
“Hey, dad,” Stiles said, stepping through the Sheriff’s open office door.
His dad glanced up from the paperwork on his desk, a bright smile lighting up his face. It fell a second alter when he realised why Stiles was there.
“Right, dinner,” He said, trying to sort through the mess of papers and photographs and stack he folders. “I’m so sorry, I got so caught up in this case that I lost track of time.”
“It’s alright,” Stiles said. “We can wait… or reschedule.”
“No, no, no,” his father said. “Just give me five minutes.”
“Okay.”
Stiles turned back to where Derek stood in the bullpen.
Derek held his hand out to him, pulling Stiles into his arms.
Stiles opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by a quiet bark.
“Hey, buddy,” Stiles said excitedly. His face lit up with a bright smile as he stepped out of Derek’s arms and dropped to his knees, holding out his arms for the dog that bounded over to his side.
The dog bounded into his arms, curling up against him as he wiggled with excitement and licked at Stiles’ face. He rolled onto his back and let Stiles rub his belly.
Stiles’ eyes flashed white for a second – almost missable – as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a dog treat, holding it out for Achilles to eat. He patted the dog, talking quietly to him. “How have you been, boy?”
“Do not try and smuggle a fully-grown German Shepard out of the station,” his father said warningly.
“It didn’t work the first time,” Stiles uttered, pouting.
“Wait, you tried to smuggle a dog?” Derek asked.
“I was four years old and the dog was only a few months old. He was still little—and it would have worked if he hadn’t had barked,” Stiles said defensively. He smiled as he scratched at the dog’s fluffy cheeks. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Very good,” his trainer answered. “It’s his last week before retirement.”
“You’re retiring him?” Stiles asked, shocked.
“He’s nine years old,” his trainer – James – said.
“What?” He looked at Achilles. “When did you get so old?”
The dog licked his face, making Stiles chuckle.
“We’re trying to line up a place for him to go,” James told him. “I can’t take him home with me; my backyard’s not big enough and I spend to much time at work to give him the attention he needs.”
Stiles let in a sharp gasp, excited.
“No,” his dad called out from his office.
Stiles’ shoulders fell. “But you promised we’d get a dog one day.”
“I know,” John said. “But our backyard isn’t big enough either, kiddo.”
“I can take him.”
They all turned to look at Derek.
“I live on acres of land and I work from home, so I can give him the attention he needs,” he said, crouching down next to Stiles and petting Achilles. “I’d have to get food, toys, bedding, and all that stuff, but I’d be happy to take him in.”
“What do you say, Achilles?” Stiles asked, watching as he nuzzled up to Derek lovingly. “I’d say that’s a yes.”
A soft smile played across Derek’s lips.
Stiles leant over and pressed a soft kiss to Derek’s cheek.
derek can barely deal with stiles‘s cuteness on a normal day, a 5 year old is just too much.. De-aging fics are always cute AF! I love it when Derek gets all protective and cute with little stiles!!!
Um, hi? I just get my wisdom tooth plucked and it hurts a lot. Like. A lot. And i just wish if you can make a fluffy sterek with derek pulling stiles pain after the surgery? Only if you have free time and i'm sorry if i bother you. Have a very nice day!!! And thankyou
I hope you don’tmind, I changed the prompt a bit! No wisdom teeth are pulled in the making ofthis fic but a tooth is chipped - *gasp* - and bby!Derek decideshe’s gotta step up and be Stiles’ personal werewolf superhero. I hope you feel better, sweetheart (and sorry it’s a week late).
“Der?” Stiles asks, gently tugging onDerek’s hand. He looks…un-char-as-tic-ally…shy and Derek is immediatelyon alert. He nearly wolves out, in his panic, but he stops himself just intime.
“Der, I have an ouchie.”
Stiles sniffs, sitting down and buryinghis face in the pillow Derek has been guarding for the past ten minutes. Stilesnever forgets to bring his pillow to school and he only ever trusts Derek towatch it when he goes to the bathroom or outside to play. Stiles doesn’t eventrust the teacher to watch it for him.
Putting down his sandwich, Derekfrowns.
He hates when people are sad,especially Stiles. Momma says it’s good to cry when you’re sad - when you cryyou get marshmallows too - but Stiles looks like he’s trying not tocry, which is….counter….counter?…productive….yeah, because Stiles loves marshmallows. Derek knows he doesn’thave to cry if he doesn’t want to, though. One time, Uncle Peter made Derek crywhen he didn’t want to and it wasn’t fun.
Looking around, he searches forsomething to help. Stiles always asks for comic books when he’s sick - Derek reallyhopes Stiles isn’t sick - but the only thing Derek can find is his juicebox. It’s apple.
He tries to give it to him - puts thestraw in, making sure it’s bendy, like Papa does for him - but Stiles shakeshis head.
“No, thanks,” he mutters.
Derek blinks, looking around again.He thinks about offering up the rest of his sandwich instead but it was made byLaura, which means it sucks, and Stiles doesn’t deserve things thatsuck. Even if he does talk way too fast sometimes and drools on Derek’sfavorite Aladdin blanket at sleepovers. He read a picture book about penguinson Saturday, and it said friendships are about compromise. Derek guesses thatmeans having to watch Aladdin suffer, sometimes. But only for Stiles.
“What d’ya do?” he asks, deciding he probablyshould have asked that first. He ducks his head, embarrassed.
When he looks back up, Stiles doessomething with his hands, nearly hitting Derek in the face, which Derek thinks is supposed to be ananswer. He nods, because it’s polite, and he likes that Stiles likes that heunderstands all of his weird hand-movements (which isn’t a lie, not really- Derek just needs more practice, like with werewolf training).
Scenting the air, he tries to figureout what happened instead - Momma says he’s getting better at it - but all hecan smell is the cookie Stiles stole from Jackson Whittemore and hid in hismouth for “safe keeping” this morning.
“See?” Stiles whispers, suddenly, opening hismouth wide and pulling at both sides with his fingers.
At first, Derek isn’t sure what he’slooking at. All he sees is Stiles tongue, which can’t stay still, even for asecond. It’s pretty gross, Derek realises. Mouths are gross. Stiles does have apretty mouth, though. At least, Derek thinks it’s pretty, like ahandsome Prince, maybe? If Stiles didn’t, he would probably be doublygrossed out.
Finally, Derek sees it - a chippedtooth.
Stiles’ lip starts to wobble.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, taking Stiles’hand. That’s another thing he likes about Stiles: he lets Derek hold his hand.Derek knows not everyone likes people holding their hands. Isaac doesn’t likepeople holding his hand, not even Allison Argent, and she’s a Disney princess.
Stiles nods, wiping his nose on Derek’sshoulder. “Uh-huh. Hurts so bad. Like, like…if Batman hurt histooth and it was sore too!”
He wipes his nose on Derek again and Dereksmiles.
“Want me to phone your dad?” Stilesshakes his head. “What about Mrs McCall?” Again, no.
Derek sticks out his tongue, likeStiles does when he needs to think hard. “Okay,” he says, “I have an idea, butyou can’t tell anyone.”
Glancing at the door to make sureno-one is about to come in, Derek presses a finger to Stiles’ mouth andconcentrates really hard. He’s not supposed to take people’s pain away - notuntil he’s much older - but Derek is pretty sure Stiles is a good excuse tobreak the rules. Stiles is always making Derek break the rules, anyway. Like with the cookie this morning.
Immediately, a tiny black line beginsto run up his arm. It’s kind of sore and Derek squirms a little, but whenit stops Stiles is staring at him like, well, Derek isn’t exactly sure. Helooks happy, at least. That’s good, right?
“Are you magic?” Stiles asks.
Derek thinks about that. “No.”
“Are you a mermaid?”
Derek laughs. Stiles is silly. “No.”
“You’re a mermaid.” Stiles grins. “When I grow up, I think I’m going to marry you. I’ll wear my bestest sneakers.”
Derek thinks about that, too. “I thinkI’m okay with that.” They can have an Aladdin cake and a pool party, after.Derek really likes pool parties. Everyone is always in a good mood and he’ll get to splash Laura.
Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand and plants a kiss on his cheek.
“….are you sure you’re not amermaid?” he asks. Derek feels his face go warm. “Wait. No. I got it. Are you a pain sucking vampire??I’ve read about those!!”
Derek narrows his eyes. He’s much coolerthan a vampire but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to tell Stiles that.
“I’m your personal superhero,” hedecides. “I was born to protect you.” He puffs out his chest, like he’s seenSuperman do, and grins. Being born to protect Stiles doesn’t seem like a lie,if he’s being honest. He’s always falling down and running into doors. Hedoes kind of need Derek.
“Cool,” Stiles whispers, prodding oneof Derek’s eyebrows. “I don’t wanna be Lois Lane, though, okay? I want to belike my Daddy when I grow up. He gets to carry a badge.”
“Lois Lane carries a badge, too!” Derekprotests. Lois Lane is his favourite. She’s super smart. Smarter than Superman.And she’s never afraid to ask scary questions. He’s going to write a book about her one day. “She carries a specialbadge that lets her talk to important people. You like talking to people, don’tyou?”
Stiles thinks on this. “Huh.” He prodsDerek’s other eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll be your Lois Lane, then.”
Derek’s stomach does something funny.He touches it, glaring a little, and sighs. He knew he shouldn’t haveaccepted half of Jackson’s cookie. He has a feeling this means Stiles is going to end upgiving him a lot of tummy aches in the future.
Summary: "Hello. This is Alpha Vernon Boyd, calling from Camp Remus about—"
"Derek?" Talia asks, confused. "You're calling about Derek? Is he okay? What happened?"
"Oh, boy." Melissa blows out a breath. "All right. Is he hurt?"
"He's been there for two hours, what could he possibly have—" John pauses. "Hang on, Camp Remus? Like the werewolf camp?"
Info: 23k | General | Middle School AU, Werewolves Are Known, Magic Stiles, Mates, Humor
Notes: This fic is soooo good and it had me hooked by the opening lines where Derek is listening to the Ramones. Plus it’s a 2018 fic from apocryphal (wibble) and in the words of the author: “Also, how crazy is it that Sterek is still going strong after all these years? Like, you guys. We're awesome.” -S
Sneak Peek:
It's Derek's first summer at Camp Remus without Laura.
He'd hoped that having Cora still here would make it a little less lonely, but that notion had been quickly disavowed when they'd stepped on the bus and Cora had abandoned him for a group of girls with colorful embroidery thread taped to their knees, busily braiding. His cousin Malia, of course, more independent at eight than Derek is even now, had gotten on a completely different bus. Which left Derek to spend the bus ride to camp in the worst row on the bus—the one at the very front, right behind the bus driver—with only the collective works of The Ramones for company.
He doesn't mind, exactly. It's rare that he ever gets time alone at home, and he's never allowed to listen to The Ramones, (or anything else with "adolescent content") since there are too many young werewolf ears in the house. And he knows that he has Erica and Isaac waiting for him at camp. But still, he was a bit miffed to be abandoned by his little sister for the cooler kids.
What does she know anyway? Eleven year olds are idiots.
