Title: You don't have to love me
Author: ANTchan
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating/Genre: Romance/E
Pairings: Derek Hale/Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Summary: There's a never-ending list of things that Derek regrets in his life. Offering the Bite to a group of emotionally unstable teenagers, not putting Peter back into his grave immediately after he crawled out, anything involving Kate Argent. Now he can add taking advice from Stiles Stilinski to the list.
Go track down the witch with Scott, he said. Commune with your Alpha on the hunt, he said. Finally grow a spine and ask him out, he said.
Never again. Because now there's a child staring at him. A cherubic-faced child is frowning at him from the spot where Scott once stood.
This story includes de-aged Scott who is a cutie patoot, pining Derek, established Sterek, established Sciles, polyamory, open relationship, insecure Derek/Scott/Stiles, and angst with a happy ending.
You don't have to love me
Part 1
-1-
This is not happening.
There's a never-ending list of things that Derek regrets in his life - at varying degrees. Offering the Bite to a group of emotionally unstable teenagers, not putting Peter back into his grave immediately after he crawled out, anything involving Kate Argent. Now he can add taking advice from Stiles Stilinski to the list.
Go track down the witch with Scott, he said.
Commune with your Alpha on the hunt, he said.
Finally grow a spine and ask him out, he said. Or just shove him against the nearest available surface and kiss him. Stiles suggested that too.
Hunting down the rogue witch in their territory had been the easy part. Controlling his heartbeat, keeping Scott from noticing how nervous he was - that was harder. But none of that matters now, because like everything else in Derek's life, it's all gone to hell in a handbasket. All it had taken was the witch blasting a spell at them as she made her escape - and Scott shoving him just of out the blast radius.
And now…
There's a child staring at him. A cherubic-faced child is frowning at him from the spot where Scott once stood. And there's no doubt who the child is because that's Scott's frown in miniature, and Scott's nose wrinkling cutely, and Scott is a kid.
Derek breathes deeply. Fuck.
He regrets everything that has led him to this.
"Scott," he greets cautiously.
The boy's brows furrow. "Who are you? Why are we in the woods? It smells funny." He rubs his sleeve over his nose. Derek can't really blame him for that. The sharp, crackling smell of magic is overpowering in the air around them - and will be for days.
Derek kneels slowly, eyes never leaving Scott's - as if the boy were a frightened wild animal rather than a lost child. He's… not sure that's a good way to approach the situation. Especially not when the little boy backs away a few steps, his eyes flashing Alpha red.
The anxiety hits Derek like a brick wall. The whine gets stuck in his throat, his eyes flashing in deference to his Alpha. He raises his hands gently, fingers spread in an attempt to show Scott he doesn't mean him harm. "I'm Derek," he says. "I'm your... friend." The word hitches on his tongue. He doesn't know what he is to Scott. Has never known exactly where he and Scott stand.
"I don't have a friend named Derek." And if Derek's heart sinks a little, he ignores it. He doesn't even know to what extent Scott is a child. Or what he remembers. "But you um…" Scott continues, almost bashfully, "you smell safe. Like Stiles too." So he's attuned with his powers, as young wolves so often are.
"Yes… Stiles and I are… friends, too. And we need to go home, okay?"
"I'm… I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers."
Shit. "Okay… what if I call Stiles and your mom? Would that be okay?"
Scott hums, his tiny mouth pursing. "Um… okay, I guess."
He fishes his phone out of his back pocket, quickly thumbing through his contacts to Stiles' number. It barely gets through the first ring before Stiles picks up.
"Hey, sugarplum. How'd the boyfriend bonding go?"
Derek has to shut his eyes to keep from rolling them. "Don't call it that. Don't call me that."
"But honeybunch! You're my boyfriends and you're bonding. What else do you want me to call it? 'Hoping my boyfriends will man up and make out?'"
He's going to kill him. "Stiles," he growls.
"That doesn't sound like Stiles," the high little voice pipes up.
"...Derek, who is that."
"Slight problem," Derek replies through gritted teeth. He clicks the phone onto speaker. "Say hi, Scott."
The child waves at the phone after a moment's hesitation. "...Hi!"
"Holy shit!"
Scott's eyes go comically wide, and then he giggles, like a perfect little cherub.
"Stiles!" Derek barks.
"Oh, like Scott's never heard that word before."
"Scott is currently, what, six-"
"I'm seven!"
"-seven, and shouldn't be exposed to that language, Stiles."
He can practically feel Stiles rolling his eyes. "Oh, excuse me. Hand me to Scott, then, Mister Proper." Derek clenches his jaw shut to avoid saying something equally damning. He passes the phone into Scott's hands. The smartphone dwarfs them now. "Hi, Scotty!"
"Hi… are you really Stiles?"
"Yeah, buddy!"
"How old are you?"
"I'm nineteen, just like you were when I saw you last. You feeling okay? You remember what happened?"
"Um… no. I don't know where I am. Or who Derek is."
"That's okay. Derek, what happened? Trap, spell, what?"
Derek leans forward just slightly. This time, at least, the boy doesn't try to back away from him. "The witch escaped. She tried to hit us with something, both of us. But Scott…"
"Don't tell me - he was very heroic and shoved you out of the way."
He lowers his head. "Yeah."
"Wow," Scott whispers. "I saved you?"
It's Stiles that has to answer. The words get caught in Derek's throat. "Yeah, you did, dude! Because Derek's my boyfriend and your Second. He's really important to us, so you can trust him, okay?"
Though Scott looks less dubious about the idea, he still hesitates. "I'll call your Mom next," Derek soothes.
"That's a good idea," Stiles agrees over the phone. "Hey, dude, can you pass me back to Derek so I can tell him about the witch thing?" As soon as the phone is back in Derek's hands, he clicks the speaker off and brings it to his ear. It's pointless, thanks to Scott's heightened senses, but the illusion of privacy is comforting. "So we have the five points taken care of. If she does try coming back, she's going to have a hard time siphoning energy from the ley lines."
"You didn't have any trouble?"
"Not nearly as much as you had. Lydia said the warding spell was a little bitchy with her Banshee magic. But it's Lydia, so she handled it with poise and grace and scary intellect. Everyone's safe and headed home. I'll meet you at the loft tonight, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll… talk to you then."
"Right. Good. ...Bye." Derek winces as he hangs up. The strain of the words "I love you" feels heavy in his mouth. Neither of them has said it yet. Neither of them have ever been good at communicating emotions without sarcasm or anger. But Derek can feel it coming, can feel it boiling over with every aborted attempt.
Scott's staring at him as he dials Melissa's number. Derek tries not to shift nervously.
"Derek?" Melissa's voice is worried as she picks up. "What's wrong, is everyone okay?"
It suddenly occurs to Derek that he's never called Melissa unless one or more of the Pack are in need of medical attention. He cringes, because even if Scott doesn't need a nurse's touch, he's still in trouble. "Mostly…"
"MOM!" Scott shrieks. And then he's nearly on top of Derek, practically climbing onto his bent knees to get to the phone.
"...Scott?!" Derek passes the phone over once more, and stands back. Melissa's high, urgent voice is still crystal clear even from four feet away. "Is that really you- what happened? Are you alright?"
"Derek says there was a witch!" Scott chirps brightly. "A witch that tried to put a spell on us and I saved Derek and now I'm seven? Stiles says I'm nineteen. Am I really nineteen, Mom? Is Derek really my friend?"
"I… yeah, baby, you're really nineteen. Derek's your friend. Have him bring you home, okay?"
"Okay." Derek's just starting to relax, relieved that Scott trusts his mother's words, when the boy wanders right up to him with the phone still pressed to his ear, and slips his free hand into Derek's. And then Derek's tense all over again.
This… no. He can't handle this.
Scott's big, brown eyes are even bigger as a child. And twice as soulful and innocent.
He regrets everything.
-2-
They manage to make it back to Derek's SUV without incident. Scott holds his hand the entire way back, kicking through the leaves with his sneakered feet and generally just… being a kid. Derek has no idea how to handle that - the child thing. He hasn't interacted seriously with a child since he was sixteen and Cora was nine and Mattie was four. Scott doesn't seem to mind his silence any, though. He chatters to his mother over the phone halfway back, and then to Deaton once they get on the road.
Deaton is as gentle and infuriatingly vague as always. But Scott loves talking to him. He doesn't mind answering questions about what he does remember of the spell (a painful, full-body itch; fear; blinding light; the smell of ozone and, oddly, chocolate fudge) and what he remembers of himself (he knows he's a werewolf, he remembers Stiles and the Sheriff, but nothing about the Pack). Derek offers what little additional information he can about the spell - which isn't much - and promises to meet Deaton at the loft.
The universe, as always, seems to have a keen sense of irony, because it's only after Deaton's hung up that Derek desperately wants him back. Because once there's nothing to occupy him anymore, Scott begins to stare at him. the complete silence stretches for several minutes, until Derek can hear the steering wheel creak under his white-knuckled grip. "What?" he snaps, dragging his eyes from the road. His instant worry that his raised voice upset the boy is unfounded. Scott only blinks at him.
"You and Stiles are boyfriends?"
"...Yes…"
"Do you love him?"
'Oh, fuck, not this again,'he thinks miserably. The first time he and Scott had a conversation like this had been painful enough. "Yeah…"
"Does he love you?"
"I think so?"
"Do you live together? Are you married?"
"No. No. He lives with you. Why are you asking so many questions?"
Scott completely ignores his question, eyes lighting up. "He lives with me?! Are we still best friends?"
Well, shit. He doesn't know how to explain that one. How do you explain open relationships to a child? "You're very… close," he hedges.
"I bet we're still the best! Do we still hang out all the time? Do we have the same job? Do I have a job?"
"You're… both in college right now. You're studying to be a veterinarian. Stiles is going to school to be a cop like his dad."
"Wow…" Scott breathes, the simple details of his adult life having dazzled him somehow. It's… okay, it's actually kind of cute. The revelation seems to tide Scott over for a few minutes. But soon the restless energy is stirring from the passenger seat all over again. "If I'm an Alpha, does that mean you have to do what I say?" he asks.
"No," Derek replies, his tone flat. "It means you're my leader, but I can say no to you."
"Buuuuut… if I say we should get ice cream, you'll do it?"
"No, Scott."
"I'll be good! I won't even wolf out or anything, I promise."
"No, Scott."
"...You're mean. Why are you being so mean?"
"I don't know!" he snaps. "I don't handle change every well. Stop asking."
"I want to go home. When are you taking me home?"
A growl works its way up his throat. "God, you're seven and this is still like every conversation we've ever had."
Scott sinks lower in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest in a Grade-A sulk. The car falls into blissful silence once more… or what should be blissful silence. Instead Derek keeps glancing over at the little boy beside him, waiting for him to speak again. He doesn't.
And Derek's werewolf ears do not miss the quiet growling of a tiny stomach.
He turns into the next In-N-Out they pass, and orders Scott's regular from memory. Complete with large strawberry milkshake. Which, apparently, is still seven-year-old Scott's favorite.
"How did you know?" Scott gushes, voice muffled with a mouthful of cheeseburger.
"Lucky guess," Derek lies.
-3-
Both Melissa and Deaton are waiting outside the loft when they get there. He has to stop Scott from leaping from the car before he pulls it to a halt. Not that it matters, because Melissa is at the door as soon as Derek throws the SUV into park, flinging it open and catching her son as he leaps from the car at her. "Mom!" he shrieks. And then Scott is going a mile a minute all over again, telling his mother everything that comes to his mind - gushing about everything he's learned and about what's happening to him.
Even Melissa looks a little dazed by it. "I'm glad you're okay, baby," she says, ruffling his hair. "You're not hurt anywhere, right?"
Scott shakes his head. His attention has already shifted to Deaton, who's been standing quietly by. Scott peers at him from around his mother, eyes wide and guileless.
Deaton smiles. "Hello, Scott. My name is Alan Deaton. You talked to me earlier, remember?"
"Yeah… I work with you, right? And I'm gonna be a vet'rinarian like you?"
"Yes. You're working very hard to be one."
Scott beams, in that same incomprehensible way he always does under Deaton's praise. It's not something Derek can understand, has ever been able to understand.
"How about we go upstairs, so I can ask you a few questions?"
Scott nods, and reaches for his mother's hand.
Deaton gestures to him. "Derek," he greets. "If you would lead the way." He says it with measured politeness. But for some reason, it still rankles Derek's nerves.
"Sure," he grunts in return, and makes a brisk start for the door. He makes sure he stays a few feet ahead of them at all times, and tries not to feel self-conscious about the state of his building. He's put some money into it since the Pack (minus the pups) graduated high school, so it's mostly liveable now.
At least he doesn't have a gaping hole in his wall anymore.
Deaton already has an idea what he's dealing with by the time they get up to the loft, Derek can tell. The light behind his eyes has turned calculating. "The spell is remarkably stable," he begins as Derek slides the door shut behind them.
"So you know what it is?" Melissa asks.
"I have an idea, based on Scott's and Derek's descriptions and the traces I can still detect. Whatever spell she used certainly didn't go as she expected. But the enchantment is still stable, and so I don't see Scott being in any immediate danger."
"Why does he remember being a werewolf, but nothing else from this time?"
Derek answers this one. "Children who are bitten or born are usually attuned to the Wolf. More than a bitten adult. It's a survival mechanism. Children never have to be taught to shift." His gaze is drawn down to Scott, just as it always is. From day one, everything within Derek has gravitated towards Scott - as Pack, as an Alpha, as a friend, as… someone precious and unattainable. It's something so natural, like turning to face the sun.
But Scott's never felt that way. As evidenced by the way his eyes are locked on the door, rather than Derek. The way all of his senses are zeroed in on the too-familiar footsteps storming up the stairwell towards the loft. It's not a surprise. Of course it's not. Derek will never be that person for Scott.
Scott already has someone.
And that someone flings the door open in a flurry of limbs, eyes casting wildly about the room until they land on Scott's small form. There's a moment of utter silence, where the two of them just look at each other. And then the light shifts in Scott's eyes, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Stiles!" he squeals.
"Scotty!"
There's a sour burn in Derek's throat as he watches the two of them run to each other - as if the sudden twelve-year gap in memories doesn't matter - and it's immediately swallowed up by cold guilt. Stiles scoops Scott up easily, swinging him around once before setting the dazzled boy back on his feet. "Whoa," Scott gushes, "you're so strong-"
"Well, yeah, I have to keep up with you big, strong wolves-"
"And you're so pretty-"
"I- you think I'm pretty? Like, actually pretty? Aww, Scotty-"
"Yeah! You don't look goofy at all!"
"Are you… are you saying I looked goofy when I was seven?"
"...Noooo…" he breaks off in a shriek of laughter when Stiles pokes him in the sides, squirming to get away from the touch. Even altered as they are, their bond is unshakable. And no one in the room is surprised at all by that.
Derek isn't sure if it's the jealousy or the desire that stings the worst. He's forced to swallow it back as Stiles finally looks his way. The smile on his face goes shuttered for an instant, and then Stiles is rising to his feet and coming closer. He steps into Derek's space with ease, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth even easier, and that helps to soothe the frazzled nerves biting at him. "You okay?" Stiles asks quietly as they separate.
And Derek… doesn't even begin to know how to articulate the swirling turmoil that's been building in him long before this. How to explain the dread at how deceptively simple this magical fuck-up seems to be. So he nods, because there's no other answer to give. Stiles is okay. His Pack is okay. And Scott…
Scott's handling it with a surprising amount of strength, just like he always has. Even being a child doesn't change that. He doesn't even seem jealous to have Stiles' attention on someone else. Instead only watching them with a child-like mixture of awe and disgust at their display of affection. Derek leans into Stiles' side just a bit more, and just lets himself take solace in the feel of him. He doesn't zone back into the conversation until Scott proclaims, "I wanna stay here tonight!"
Oh no.
"It may be a good idea, actually," Deaton agrees. "If something should go wrong, or should the witch attempt to return, it would be best if Scott were in a safe place."
Shit.
"Yeah, buddy, it'll be like a sleepover!"
"Yeah!"
Two pairs of brown eyes turn to him, and Derek knows he's doomed. "Is that okay, Derek?"
"Sure…"
Fuck everything.
-4-
The problem is that Melissa had long since donated any clothes that would fit seven-year-old Scott. And… while Derek has gotten better about keeping food in his loft, he doesn't consider takeout to be a good meal for a child. Even if Stiles assures him otherwise. So Derek is the one who volunteers to go shopping.
Because of course he does.
Because he can not handle staying alone with Scott until Stiles came back. Or being in the middle of both of them while waiting for Melissa.
You escaped pretty quick, Stiles texts him not twenty minutes into his shopping. He's standing in front of a display of children's clothes, trying not to think about what he looks like.
Someone had to do the shopping.
Yeah and you jumped on that. So what is it, then? What's going on in that very lovely head of yours?
Stiles has him figured out, which is an unfortunately frequent circumstance now that they're together. Derek bites back a sigh.
Nothing.
Now THAT is an outright lie. Come on, dude. You've been cagey all day.
Derek.
Deeerrr.
Dereeekk.
Tell meee.
I swear to god I'm going to chuck this phone into a wall if you keep doing that.
Tell me what's wrong!
I just wanted to give you some time.
Time for WHAT?
His growl scares away the sales floor attendant.
To be alone with him.
I don't want him to be uncomfortable. You're the best one for him.
There's a long pause between replies. It gives Derek time to patrol through the kids department and feel utterly lost about what he's supposed to be buying. The next time his phone buzzes, he steels himself.
That's such bullshit
Do you have ANY
No, hold on.
Snapchat dings a few minutes later, as Derek's trying to casually toss packages of socks and underwear into his cart. It's a video of Scott sitting on his couch, with the caption "I HAVE BEEN REPLACED" splashed across it.
"Did Derek REALLY chase the lizard monster all over town?" Scott's saying. "While Hunters were chasing HIM? That's so COOL!"
"Yup," Stiles cuts in. "He's fought Hunters and a kanima and Alphas and berserkers and chimeras…"
"And witches! He tried to chase the witch after I got zapped- Derek's really awesome!"
"Yeah, he is, buddy."
The video closes. He uses his replay to watch it over again, warmth seeping from his chest and into his limbs.
He likes Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Stiles texts him. Mikey and Raf are his favorites.
Derek can do that.
-5-
He does more than that. Not only does he return to the loft with a set of clothing essentials and groceries for a week, but also a handful of Ninja Turtle action figures, comic books, a mini lacrosse stick, and a Wii U. Scott looks ready to piss himself in excitement and Derek absolutely does not bask in the adoration and ecstatic shrieking. The knowing, fond smirk Stiles keeps shooting him over Scott's head doesn't mean anything.
"Pushover," Stiles teases him quietly.
"Shut up."
They set Scott up at the breakfast bar with his toys and comic books while Derek cooks dinner. It's mac and cheese. Not exactly as glamorous as Derek had intended, but it's late and they need something fast. And no one's complaining, so he makes due. Stiles takes up his place at Scott's side at the bar, keeping him entertained - the both of them entertained. The comic books barely distract the boy for five minutes, before he's asking about their lives again. He's fascinated to hear about all of their "adventures" - anything Stiles is willing to tell him. (It's strange for Derek to think about the things they've gone through in such a light term. As if the pain and the fear and desperation didn't exist.) But it's not Stiles' tales of late night chases through the city or the terrifying people they've faced that actually makes Scott speechless in wonder.
Apparently that honor falls to learning that he's had not one, but two girlfriends.
Derek tips his head back, and silently asks any listening deity for strength. Stiles rubs a hand over his mouth, stifling a chuckle.
"I had girlfriends?" Scott asks in a hushed voice.
"Oh yeah." Derek can hear the hitch of laughter in his boyfriend's voice. "Allison and Kira."
Scott's mouth forms a perfectly surprised "o." "But I'm not dating them anymore? Where are they now? Are they Pack?"
"Yeah, they're Pack. Allison just got back from France. She's dating Isaac now - another Packmate. Kira's at Berkeley with Malia. They'll be back this week too. Maybe you'll get a chance to see them if you're seven long enough."
Derek can hear Scott's feet kicking against the bar. "Do I… do I have a girlfriend now?" he asks, voice soft and bashful. Derek turns away from the stove, hurrying to catch Stiles' eyes before he can answer. It's a useless attempt, because Stiles isn't even looking at him. His gaze is trained on Scott, and he's got that calculating gleam in his eyes that sends Derek's pulse spiking.
"Sti-"
"Nah, dude. You've got me."
"But I've always had you!"
There's no missing the warmth that blooms in Stiles' expression, or the way the tension all but oozes out of the line of his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah you do. But I meant I'm your boyfriend, dork."
Scott drops the Ninja Turtle he'd been fiddling with. "You… are?"
"Yeah."
"But you're Derek's boyfriend." Scott's eyes swing towards him, his face puckered in confusion, and Derek fights not to cringe away from his focus.
"He's my boyfriend too. You're both my boyfriends."
"You can do that?"
"Of course! As long everyone involved is okay with it."
"Oh." The boy falls silent, looking thoughtful. Derek almost dares to hope that the danger has passed. He's dead wrong, as Scott nearly gives him a heart attack a minute later when he speaks up again. "So is Derek my boyfriend too?"
Derek leans his hand against the counter, and silently curses the entirety of the universe.
"No," Stiles answers with, damn him, deceptive flippancy. "But we both like him a whole lot."
And Scott - fuck, Scott doesn't even question it. He smiles with all the force of the sun and nods. "I do!"
"Stiles."
Even Derek's surprised by the sharp edge of his voice. Scott and Stiles jump, turning to him with equally rattled expressions. And then Stiles sees the blush on his face - which must be glowing with how hot his face and his neck feel - and it melts into a smirk. "Scott, dude," he practically chirps, "why don't you go get settled so we can watch a movie. There's this really awesome one called Star Wars that I think you'll really like!" He waits until Scott slides off the bar stool before he approaches. Derek wants to shake the smug look right off his face.
"He's going to be pissed at you when this is over," Derek grouses without preamble.
"For what, making him finally watch Star Wars? Who cares! I finally won."
"That, too. I was talking about you making him think that he wants to be…"
Stiles' brows arch expectantly. And when Derek can't even speak the words "with me," he leans closer. "I'm not making him think anything, Der."
"Stiles."
"I'm not! Christ, I am so tired of the two of you pining-"
"-I don't pine."
"Pining, Derek! Absolutely mooning over each other - pun intended! It's the most hilarious and heartbreaking thing I've ever witnessed, and I harbored a truly humiliating crush on Lydia Martin for most of my life. Still do - in a more platonic sense. I mean, can you blame me?"
"Yes."
"That hurts, Derbear."
"Calling me that does not make your case any better, Mieszko."
He takes a special kind of solace in the way Stiles grimaces at the name. His hands come up, long fingers splayed even as he starts backing away. "Alright. I'm out of here. I'll just go cower on the couch with Scott in fear of your superior gross pet names."
"That is your name, Stiles."
"And it's the worst!" And Stiles flees to the sofa, leaving Derek to gather his strength for the night ahead.
Dinner doesn't turn out to be the emotional minefield he's expecting. In fact, they make it through the entirety of Episode IV and the only questions Scott asks are about the movie. Derek keeps waiting for him to ask about their relationship - how it works or what feelings Derek has - but it never comes. As if Scott has just accepted what Stiles has told him - what Derek has told him.
Derek can't even think of a time when Scott has blindly accepted anything he's said before.
They only make it through one movie, but Scott is bouncing on the sofa and chattering in a nonstop ode to Star Wars that has Stiles looking unbearably smug. With Scott so keyed up, the two of them dash about the loft pretending to have a lightsaber battle (which Stiles proclaims is his life's greatest wish come true) while Derek sets up the Wii U. It's generally distracting and not at all entertaining when they try to use him as a burly werewolf shield.
It's not.
He's not smiling. No matter what either of them say.
Playing Mario Kart doesn't go any better in regards to calm, but then again there isn't even hope for that when Stiles and adult Scott mix with video games. Neither of them are capable of sitting still, leaning into each others and Derek's space constantly. Until Derek has had enough of losing to Scott and sits sideways on the couch, extending a leg and pushing him, giggling, all the way to the other end. And then Scott retaliates by flashing his red eyes in the middle of the next race and throwing him off the track.
"That's cheating!" Derek grumbles at him.
Scott doesn't look in the slightest bit repentant.
"He's worse than you," he tells Stiles. "I didn't think that was possible."
But all in all, the night goes decently. Seven-year-old Scott is a good kid. Sweet and insightful and just a touch devious, in a way that makes Derek's heart ache. That's a side of Scott he rarely sees; is barely even aware that it exists. It makes it even clearer how much of their interactions over the years has been tainted by anger and misery. It's disheartening to think about the immeasurable distance between them, and the bridge that Derek's burned with every mistake.
The peace starts to unravel at bedtime. Scott makes it through a bath and changing into his new pajamas with a breathtaking amount of grace for a seven-year-old, but the moment one of them utters the word "bedtime," it all ends. That angelic face twists into a stormy frown, and everything they say is met with a sullen glare. Gone is the laughter and the adoration, and in its place is the stubborn nature of a child.
"I'm not tired," he continues to insist. Even though it's closer to midnight than ten in the evening and his eyelids are drooping. Derek considers hauling Scott to bed, protests be damned, but fears it's going to lead to shouting and sprouting claws. But persuasion and demands have failed miserably.
"Get your butt to bed, dude!" Stiles eventually orders. He stands between Scott and the TV, hands planted on his hips and his mouth curled in frustration. "Do we have to do a timeout scenario? I remember how much you hated those."
"You can't do that!" the boy snaps.
"The hell I can't!"
"You're not my Mom! You're not even my babysitter. You're my boyfriend. You can't put your boyfriend in time out. I don't have to listen to you."
Derek has a horrible vision of just how badly this is about to go. An angry flush is working its way over Stiles' cheeks, and Scott's looking more confrontational than ever. It's going to end in screaming and maybe even tears, and Derek's already frayed nerves cry out for mercy. He briefly contemplates - fantasizes, really - making an escape before it all goes to shit. But he can't, and he knows that. But how in the world is he supposed to step in without… what, undermining Stiles? Is he supposed to play the bad guy and put Scott in timeout because he's not his boyfriend and he has full rights to? Would that make Scott even less likely to do what Stiles says?
It's parenting, he realizes. They've been thrown into a practice parenting session.
A sad, hysterical laugh gets caught in his chest.
"No, no, this isn't…" Derek doesn't realize he's even said anything until both Scott and Stiles turn to him. His mouth shuts with a soft click. And as he's trying to come up with an excuse, an idea strikes him. "Scott…" he offers slowly, "do you want to go out and look at the moon with me?"
"The moon?" they both parrot back at him.
But Scott's irritated expression smoothes out into one of curiosity, and he climbs to his feet. "'Kay." Derek holds out his arms, willing his heartbeat to keep in check as he scoops Scott off the floor. "But s'not a full moon…"
He settles the boy on his hip. Scott's a little too tall to be carried comfortably like this. His legs dangle awkwardly by Derek's thigh. "I know. But it's still nice to look at."
There's an unreadable look in Stiles' eyes as he watches the two of them. "So, what," he asks, "are you going out to 'commune with Mother Moon?'" His tone is that careful balance of joking sarcasm that is equal parts endearing and frustrating.
"You're not far off." Derek clears his throat. "My parents would sometimes take us out to look at the moon when we were restless." And just like that Stiles' expression blanks in shock. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Rather than let him suffer, Derek just leans in and presses a kiss to his slack mouth. "It'll only be a few minutes. Head to bed?"
"Uh… yeah. I'll uh… I'll see you soon. Have fun?"
Instead of answering, Derek offers a soft smile, and turns to carry Scott up the spiral staircase and through the skylight out onto the roof. The boy's a line of tense, buzzing energy against his ribs… right up until they step out into the moonlight. And just like that, everything stills. Scott turns his face up into the pale, cool light, following it as Derek pads barefoot across the roof to a better vantage point. The rushing beat of his heart eases into a steady thrum by the time they stop. Derek bites back a triumphant smile, and tips his head back to gaze up at the soothing crescent of the moon. The light is like a caress against his skin, cool and gentle, and it settles the most primal part of him. Nothing matters at that exact moment, nothing but him and Scott and the loving pull of the moon.
Scott's completely silent for a few minutes, but not any closer to sleep. When Derek peeks down at him, his eyes are fixed on the sky, attentive but not exactly peaceful. "Hm." And then Derek lifts his head, and lets out a long, soft howl.
A high, wavering voice joins his just at the end, and Derek cuts off abruptly, grinning at the seconds that it takes Scott to realize. He glances at the boy, only to find Scott peering back at him with doe-like eyes. The child stifles a laugh with his hands, and then plants them on Derek's shoulder and lifts himself up to start another howl, which Derek joins.
They trade back and forth for several minutes, until Scott is hiding his face in Derek's neck and giggling as Derek howls quietly into his ear. The tension is gone from his body, from both of them.
"Did you have fun today?" Derek murmurs.
"Yeah." His voice is warm, but the exuberance from the day has faded. Scott shifts against him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He's going to smell like Scott for days. Weeks, if he keeps doing that. Derek's chest goes tight just thinking about it. "I watched Star Wars and played games. You got me cool toys. Derek, can we go play with my new lacrosse stuff tomorrow?"
"Sure."
"Kay…" he trails off, pressing a yawn into Derek's shoulder. He's sagging more and more into his arms, clinging to Derek's shoulders rather than holding himself up. "Derek?"
"Yeah?"
"I love Stiles a lot. Do I love him a lot when I'm grown up?"
"...Yeah. You tell him all the time."
"Oh. Good. 'Cause I do. Do I… tell you I love you too?"
For a moment, Derek can't find his words. He can't even get the air into his lungs, much less speak. "You… no, you don't. But you're not my boyfriend."
He feels, rather than sees Scott's pout. "But… I do. I love you a lot too. A whole… lot."
The roof may as well have collapsed beneath them, from the sudden feeling of weightlessness in Derek's belly. He's sure his heart stops, because everything goes still and when his heart starts pounding out of control, his chest aches. It's stupid to take a child's love as a serious declaration. This Scott is seven. Seven-year-olds will proclaim someone the love of their life if they have the same favorite color in common.
But even still, it's something so precious and Derek wants to hold onto it for as long as the universe will allow him to; until it decides to rip it out of his hands like it has everything else.
Scott loves him. Scott-the-child loves him and it's so pure and good and…
'I love you too,' Derek thinks. 'I love you, I love you so much. As a friend, as Pack, as an Alpha, as a child, as a man…'
By the time Derek has the courage to look over at Scott again, he's fast asleep against his shoulder. He hitches the sagging weight of the boy up a little higher on his hip, his heart feeling full to bursting, and sneaks back down into the loft. Stiles is sitting up in bed, his lithe frame bathed in the same silvery moonlight they'd just been basking in. It reflects off his eyes and the sheen of his lips.
He's beautiful. And it's not as if Derek didn't know that before. But right now… after everything that's happened?
"He asleep?" Stiles asks upon seeing him, voice hushed. Rather than answer, and risk waking Scott up, he just turns to show Stiles the sleeping boy. "Wow. I guess your parents had the right idea. I heard you two howling up there. I'd be surprised if the whole neighborhood didn't- what's wrong? What happened?"
Derek freezes where he's carefully lowering Scott to the bed. "What?"
"You've got that look on your face. What happened?"
And Derek can't say the words until he's tucked Scott in beside Stiles, and climbed in on the other side. Until it feels like the shadows are wrapped around him as snugly as the sheets are. And Stiles has waited, patiently, even, which is something that Stiles is not. It's owing his boyfriend an explanation that makes him speak, just as much as the tumultuous swirl of emotions.
"He… He said he loves me," he whispers into the dark.
Stiles' smile is warm and soft and glinting in the moonlight. "That's because he does."
"It's not the same," he scoffs. "He's a kid. You can't expect a kid to mean the same thing as-"
"No, that's true. But it still feels good, right?"
"...Yeah." The admission is barely a breath.
"He does as an adult too," Stiles insists. Derek watches him shift on the bed, eyes tracing the slope of his cheeks, the angle of his jaw. He reaches over Scott, cups Stiles' face in his hand, thumb tracing over the ridge of his cheekbone.
"I… you- It's not that I-" The words lodge in his throat, and no matter how much he wants to say it, his mouth won't form the words. Fear and frustration takes his voice, until all he can force out is: "I do, I do - but I can't-"
"Hey," Stiles murmurs. His hand raises to cup Derek's against his cheek. "Me too. I get it. It's so hard to- but we will. We will, someday."
"Yeah…"
Stiles presses a quick kiss to his palm, feather light and loving, saying everything that neither of them can bring themselves to speak. And just that simple action is enough knock the breath out of him. Derek squeezes their hands together, tangling their fingers, wanting nothing more than to be closer.
Which is… awkward, with Scott sprawled out between them. He narrowly dodges getting a tiny, sharp elbow in the chest.
"We'll try not to smother you in your sleep," Stiles promises.
"Yeah, right."
They do, a little bit. But it's okay.
-6-
After that, things get better in some ways, and worse in others. By day three Derek finds himself getting used to waking up under a pile of tangled limbs, his body used as a pillow, or even a blanket as Scott attempted to wriggle his way under Derek at one point. The three of them just barely find their way into a routine, which does help to avoid possible meltdowns. But three days isn't nearly enough time to establish strong authority over a child. Bedtimes are still as much of a nightmare as it was the first day. They end up having to beg for Melissa's help on that one, just to avoid tears from any of them.
On the second day, the Pack invades without warning, leaving Scott in wide-eyed amazement at the Pack he's Alpha of. To no one's surprise, they take to their Alpha's new form with enthusiasm. It becomes something like a contest for his favor. Scott's the center of attention, which seems to mystify him. Allison and Kira are greeted with shy smiles and most of the dazzled stares (also to no one's surprise). But Scott quickly finds fast companions in Boyd and Malia, who puff up in smug satisfaction at the treatment. Isaac complains and tries to make it look like he's not sulking, until Scott goes over to him as well.
It's not until the play fighting and tumbling nearly destroys his furniture that Derek orders the party be moved into the Preserve.
And then Jackson shows up with the Nerf guns, and gets proclaimed Scott's favorite. Stiles is horrified.
On day four, Deaton calls them over to the clinic. Their time with Scott-the-child has come to an end, and Derek can't help but feel a little sad at the idea. And for all the enthusiasm Stiles shows in getting Scott packed into the car, there's no hiding the way his smile falls the moment Scott isn't looking.
Deaton is waiting for them at the staff door once they get there. "Hello, Scott," he welcomes.
"Hi, Doctor Deaton." Even Scott is subdued now that they've arrived.
"Are you ready to be a grown up again?"
"I guess… will it hurt?"
"No. It shouldn't even itch this time." He leads the boy into the building, leaving Derek and Stiles to trail after them. "We'll have to make this quick," he tells them over his shoulder. "I have an appointment with a tetchy feline at two o'clock, and I need to have the operating room cleansed by then. Magic irritates her."
The operating room's been cleared of the table, and in its place a rune circle has been chalked into the floor. The equipment cabinet has been wheeled nearby, offering bowls of powders and herbs and other magical implements rather than surgical tools.
Stiles waves a hand at the circle. "The hell is all this?"
"A dispel," Deaton replies. He's already guiding Scott into the center, talking as much to the boy as he is to Stiles. "Casting a spell is a lot like weaving a pattern. There are components that make up every spell, like threads. And sometimes those threads get tangled - which causes spells to go wrong. So all we have to do is untangle it."
Derek snorts. "As simple as that."
"Of course not. As I said, the magic keeping Scott in this form is remarkably stable. Recklessly attempting to dismantle the spell could cause it to destabilize." Deaton reaches for his tools, plucking a small metal talisman from the array. He presses it into Scott's hands, and offers him a tranquil smile. "But that's not going to happen." The druid spends a few more minutes distributing the spell components around the circle. The room's gone silent. Scott actually looks scared.
"You'll be okay," Derek reassures him.
"Yeah, buddy. We'll see you in just a sec," Stiles agrees. His voice is clear, confident. But there's no missing the nervous flutter of his heart. Derek reaches for his hand, wordlessly entwining their fingers.
"I love you," Scott says quietly.
It's Stiles that answers, his hand squeezing tightly around Derek's. "I love you too, buddy."
Derek… doesn't say anything. He wishes he could.
Deaton moves, standing directly in front of the circle. He's holding a bottle of some unnamable liquid in his hand. "Ready, Scott?"
"Y-Yeah?"
"Close your eyes, and take deep breaths." He waits until Scott clenches his eyes shut. "Alright. And in three… two… one." Deaton tips the bottle, letting the contents dribble out onto the circle. Stiles' hand clamps so tightly around his that he can feel the bones creak.
And then the room explodes into light.
Derek goes for Stiles the same instant the other man reaches for him. They fumble for half a second, before Derek gets a hand up to shield both of their faces from the blinding light. When it fades a mere few seconds later, they remain still - dazed, blinking to regain their sight.
The first thing that Derek sees is that the form standing in the center of the circle is taller. Broader. His heart leaps.
Scott.
But then his vision begins to clear. And Scott's hair is longer, curling endearingly around his face. His face is just the slightest bit rounder, less drawn about the eyes. The muscle definition of his nineteen-year-old self isn't here yet, and it leaves a softness of youth that Derek hasn't seen for three years.
And he's staring at Derek with the open contempt.
"What are you doing here?" Scott spits.
END PART 1.