This story is slowly dwindling down, but I've got a few more chapters to go so don't fret :)
Thanks for everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited last chapter. I don't own these characters. And drop me a comment if you can.
See ya!
The spell was actually quite simple. Stiles and Gadget had to be in the exact spot the first was cast, on midnight, on the full moon. If he tried reversing the spell before or after midnight, it wouldn't work and Gadget would become a real boy. So, they still had three whole days with the little boy, and a part of Stiles had no idea if he could actually get through them, and he could tell Derek felt the same way. The rest of the pack, however, had no qualms with spending that time with Gadget.
"Don't you two have school today?" Stiles' father asked when Isaac and Danny showed up early Tuesday morning, both wearing swim shorts and loose t-shirts.
"And why are you dressed like you're going to the beach?" Stiles questioned looking between the two suspiciously, his arms folded tightly against his chest.
"Because we are," Danny said confidently, a smirk on his face. "Isaac and I have decided to take Gadget to the beach today. And it's totally fine, Mr. Stilinski, we both have free periods first thing in the morning." Isaac nodded enthusiastically.
"He's not even up, yet," Stiles lied forcing himself not to look towards the living room, where Gadget sat watching some weird cartoon.
"You're a liar," Isaac stated triumphantly.
"Stupid werewolf hearing," Stiles grumbled walking away from the others, ignoring the way Isaac beamed and deciding it was not adorable.
"Hey buddy," Isaac greeted Gadget as he followed Stiles into the living room.
"Uncle Isaac!" Gadget exclaimed bounding off the couch and running at the werewolf, crashing into his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist in a tight hug.
"You're acting like you haven't seen him in days," Stiles pointed out exasperated, gesturing towards the embracing pair.
"To kids, twelve hours seems like days," his father replied from the living room's entryway. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. Danny stood behind him, watching Isaac with a look Stiles recognized from Scott and Boyd when they were looking at Allison and Erica.
"You know, Derek looks at you the same way," his dad muttered to him, and Stiles could feel heat creep up his neck, turning his face a deep crimson.
After Isaac and Danny had Gadget packed up (the smaller boy predictably very excited about visiting the beach), and promised the sheriff to be back well before their free period ended, Stiles rushed up the stairs to continue getting ready for school while his father went out back to putter around in his tool shed, deciding to spend his day off working on some of those half-finished projects he never got around to completing.
"Maybe I'll have Gadget help me," the older man had suggested as he and Stiles had parted ways. Stiles could only groan having long since given up trying to remind everyone that Gadget was not sticking around.
As he searched under his bed for his left Converse, his cell phone buzzed against his desk. He crawled out from underneath, cracking his head on the edge, and swore loudly. Rubbing his sore spot, he dragged himself to his feet and staggered towards the phone.
"Yeah," he snapped into the receiver, forgoing actually checking the caller I.D.
"Is that any way to greet your possible uncle-in-law?" Peter drawled on the other end, a smirk in his voice.
"Ah, the bane of my existence," Stiles retorted in faux-excitement, ignoring the way his stomach swooped at the thought of Peter's words. "What do you want?"
"Why does everyone…?"
"Peter," Stiles growled, for a moment channeling his inner Derek.
"My nephew has trained you well," Peter replied softly, chuckling. "I need help."
Opting to ignore the thing about training, Stiles testily asked, "Why would I, of all people, help you? Besides, didn't you already 'ask' for help? And, if I recall correctly, it was a 'faux pas' on your part."
"That was the past. I'm way past it, as is Derek, I am sure. I called for actual help, and you are the only one I trust to do it."
"Does it have anything to do with posing as your lover? Because I told you once before, I do not find you remotely attractive." Okay, so it was a lie, but the prospect of ever having a thing with Peter left Stiles queasy… and definitely not in the good way.
"As flattered as I am that you've given it some thought." Have not. "That is not what I need help with. Do you possibly know anything about kelpies?"
"Seriously, what the hell are you doing in L.A? And how the hell did Kelpies get involved? Aren't those things indigenous to Scotland?"
"Stiles, I just need to know."
"Look, dude, Derek may have a squishy spot when it comes to family, but I still find you mildly annoying, not to mention still a little crazy, and no amount of 'potential' uncle-in-law crap will get me to help you."
"I'll buy you the new Playstation 4 when it comes out," Peter said slowly peaking Stiles' interest. That wasn't supposed to come out for possibly another year.
"You lie," he started suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed, hating how excitement unfurled in his stomach at the prospect of getting a Playstation 4. It also left a cold, slithering pit in his stomach to know that Peter knew his price.
"On my collection of vintage records, I promise I will get you that gaming system. If, and only if, you tell me about Kelpies." Stiles knew how much Peter loved those records, almost more than his own life (definitely more than Derek's), and even if Stiles didn't get the system (he'd unload a clip of wolfsbane in Peter's torso if he didn't), he could still hope the kelpie took a huge chunk out of Peter's leg. Or arm, maybe his head.
"Fine," Stiles finally said with a heavy sigh, moving towards his computer. "I've got fifteen minutes to kill anyway."
After giving Peter as much information as he could, Stiles forgone wearing his Converse sneakers, grabbed his Vans and backpack, and headed out of his room, rushing down the stairs. He checked his watch-surprised to see he was actually leaving five minutes earlier than usual-and hopped into his jeep, throwing his crap in the back and starting it. Who really needed to wear shoes to drive anyway?
TW
Derek parked in front of the Stiles' house, putting his car in park. He turned the engine off, but didn't get out. Instead, he studied the jeep-less driveway, one arm resting on the steering wheel while the other stretched across the windowsill. Three days; they had three days until the spell had to be reversed. How did someone spend three days with a child that they didn't exactly want to part with? Logically Derek agreed with Stiles, they were far from ready for the responsibility of a child, but emotionally…
With a heavy sigh, Derek pulled his keys from the ignition and got out of his car. He headed towards the front door, knocking softly, but no one answered. He knocked once more before he heard voices coming from the backyard.
Stepping off the stoop, Derek followed the voices, unlocking the gate and heading across the Stilinskis' backyard, stopping when he spotted a small shed. Its door was wide open, and Gadget and the sheriff were working on a birdhouse.
"Sand with the grain," the sheriff informed Gadget and guided the boy's hand away from him. For a brief moment, Derek could easily replace Gadget with a much younger Stiles, helping his father with one of his pet projects. Of course, Gadget had a smidgeon more patience than Stiles, so the scenario may have gone a little differently.
"Are you going to stand there or are you going to help?" the sheriff asked suddenly, startling Derek. He looked around, wondering if the older man had been speaking to anyone else, but when Gadget exclaimed, "Daddy Derek!" the werewolf realized it had been some freaky, sheriff intuition at work.
"Hey buddy," Derek greeted the boy as the boy raced towards him, throwing his arms around the werewolf in a tight hug. "Why do you smell like ocean and sand?"
"Because Isaac and Danny took him to the beach," Stiles' father replied with a smile, stepping out of his shed.
"It was awesome!" Gadget shouted clinging tightly to Derek's left leg. "We builded sandcastles and Uncle Isaac and I buried Uncle Danny when he fell asleep. They then buyed me an ice cream before we had to come home so they could go to school. I also finded a bunch of shells!" He released Derek's leg, grabbed his hand, and proceeded to try and drag him towards the house. "Come and see them!"
Derek followed Gadget, listening as the sheriff trailed behind them. They headed inside, Gadget pushing Derek towards the kitchen table before hurrying into the living room. As the werewolf took a seat, Stiles' father walked past the dining room and into the kitchen, appearing a few seconds later with two beers. He set one down in front of Derek, opened the second, and sat down across from the younger guy.
"You do realize my son's at school, right?" the sheriff started slowly, taking a drink of his beer.
"I know," Derek replied picking up his unopened bottle and studying it. "I was…" he trailed off, replacing his bottle back on the table when Gadget reappeared lugging a plastic, green bucket behind him. He handed the bucket to Derek and proceeded to crawl into one of the empty chairs.
Derek set the bucket on the table, and Gadget tipped it over, spilling sea shells all over the table. As the little boy began showing off each shell, describing how he, Isaac, and Danny had found them, Derek felt the sheriff's eyes on his the entire time.
After the shells had been put back in the bucket and Gadget had retreated into the living room to play with his stuffed wolf, the sheriff got up. He returned with another beer, nodding his head at Derek's untouched bottle. "It tends to lose its appeal when it gets warm."
"I'm not thirsty," Derek stated pushing the bottle away from him. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward, but otherwise didn't say anything. Truthfully, he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing there only that he really needed to talk to someone that wasn't Stiles or his pack.
"Problem Derek?"
"What?" He looked up, green eyes meeting blue, and said, "Um…" Stiles would call him a regular 'word master' for that response.
"You don't want to change him back, do you?"
"What?" Sometimes Derek forgot that the sheriff wasn't a werewolf but merely a very perceptive human, and it usually took the older man's scent to remind him. "It's not…"
"Derek, I get where you're coming from, believe me I do, but not only are you not ready for this kind of responsibility, Stiles is definitely not ready. I want him to graduate, go to college, get some menial private investigator job, because let's face it he's already on that track, and then, when he's done everything he needs to, he can think about children. Besides, he's still a kid himself…"
"I know," Derek replied leaning back in his chair. "And I agree with you and him, but…" he looked down at the table. "I never thought I'd have kids, much less with someone I actually wouldn't mind having them with, and now that I have it…" He gestured helplessly, unable to think of a good enough phrase to describe what he was feeling. Emotions were just not his area, especially talking about them with someone who isn't Stiles.
"Look, I've seen you and my son together," the sheriff started taking a drink from his beer, "and I've got very little doubt you two won't end up being end game, but maybe you should keep the 'let's get married and have kids' conversation on the back burner until Stiles is out of college."
Derek merely grunted, neglecting to mention that he and Stiles had already talked about that the night before. He grabbed the beer sitting next to his arm, peeling at the label, and asked, "You really think Stiles is going to become a P.I.?"
"Kid, have you met my son? I love him to death, but he's the nosiest person I've ever met. He's either going to become a P.I. or a reporter. And, since I know for a fact he hates writing, he's probably not going to work for a paper anytime soon."
"And you're okay with that?"
"As long as he's got you around to keep an eye on him, I am," the sheriff replied draining his beer and standing. "You are surprisingly good for him." He then walked out of the room, leaving Derek smirking at the older man's backhanded comment and feeling slightly better.