(Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters)

Thanks to everyone who read last chapter and for who left a review.

Please take a moment to review, this is my first teen wolf fic that I've published on FanFiction and so I'd love to hear from you guys, meet new reader and writers, all that jazz.

Enjoy

Derek felt horrible, he really did. He hadn't meant what he'd said to Stiles but he'd said it anyway and now they couldn't find the teen.

Derek, of course, knew what he said was untrue but maybe he'd pushed Stiles too far this time. Derek rubbed his hands together, trying to reason with himself. The teen was only human after all, Derek didn't want to lead him into an early grave. But at the same time, Stiles was pretty good at leading himself right into trouble, who was Derek to stop him.

Derek paced for several minutes as he waited for someone from his pack to call with good news... or any news. He stayed behind in case Stiles went to the loft first... Derek also knew the pack didn't think he deserved to help. He stopped pacing with a heavy sigh, pulling his phone out to check again when he smelled something stranged.

He paused, turning to the door as Peter's scent started to leak into the soft along with another, oddly familiar smell.

Derek's heart leapt and he started toward the door. Peter cut off his walk by stepping inside, a blisteringly bright grin on his face.

Derek looked at him and then past him.

"Peter? You found him?"

Peter stood by the door, the grin replaced by a thoughtful look. "You could say that," he muttered. Derek scowled and stepped around the couch.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he said, his voice breaching a growl. Peter raised his hands.

"I found him, yes, but, well, he's not technically what he was before," he said. Derek put a hand on the couch to steady himself. This was his fault. Stiles was dead. He knew it. Stiles was dead and he drove him to it.

"Calm down," Peter said, sensing the panic practically emanating from Derek. "He's alive. He's not hurt either."

Derek took a deep breath, ducking his head a little to hide his watery eyes. After a few seconds he looked back up at Peter. He noticed something then that he hadn't before: there was a small hand wrapped around Peter's leg and a head peeking out around it.

"Stiles," Peter said, addressing the child. "This is Derek. You an call him uncle Derek if you like."

Derek glanced briefly at the child before looking back at Peter. "This isn't funny," he said, his face a deadpan.

Peter smirked. "Oh, how I wish it was, then I could take credit, but alas this was not my work and this is Stiles."

"I'm not playing games with you, Peter."

"Neither am I."

Derek looked back down at the child who was looking between them, not sure what to do. Derek sighed and asked, "what's your name?"

The boy turned and gave Derek a mischievous smile. "Stiles," he said. Derek rolled his eyes and glared at Peter, folding his arms as he did.

Peter raised his hands again. "What?"

"Well done for teaching him what to say. Take him back to whether you stole him from and then help us actually look for Stiles."

The small boy was looking back at Peter now. "What does he mean, mister?"

Peter watched as Derek turned his back, pulling out his phone. Peter knelt down and grabbed Stiles' shoulders, turning him to face Derek's back. "Tell uncle Derek your real name, Stiles."

Stiles tilted his head back to give Peter a confused look before he looked at the muscular man's back. "It's something really long, only mummy and daddy can say it. I just say Mischief. Daddy says that it's ir-ironic... I-I don't know what that means."

Peter was grinning when Stiles had finished speaking because as the boy spoke Derek had stopped playing with his phone. His shoulders had grown tense and his head was raised as he stared ahead of him in shock. He'd seen stiles' real name before, he could barely read it let alone pronounce it.

"Believe me yet?" Peter asked. Derek spun around and moved closer to Stiles. He bent down so he was looking closely at the boy. The kid's heart hadn't skipped a single beat.

"What's your dad's name?" Derek murmured.

Stiles' small face broke into an affectionate smile. "His name is Noah, a-and my mummy is called Claudia! My bestest friend in the whole wide world is Scott! His mummy makes us brownies when we has slumber parties. We go to daycare together! I'm Batman and Scott's Robin, but sometimes I let Scott be Batman Cus he can'ts always be Robin and-"

Derek put his hand over the hyperactive child's mouth.

He met Peter's smug gaze. "What happened?"

Derek sat down opposite Peter on the couch while they watched the small boy on the floor. Derek had given him the last of him two slices of bread from his nearly empty cupboard. He also had a jar of peanut butter which Stiles had snatched from him before he could spread it on the bread.

Stiles sat with the jar between his splayed little legs, covered only by his lengthy red hoodie and a pair of Derek's old gym shorts (they'd used Derek's robe tie to hold it all together.) Stiles was carefully pulling off the crusts on his bread and lining them up on the floor before eating the white part of the bread. He occasionally dipped his fingers into the peanut butter and when he wasn't eating it he was using it as paint on the floor, along with the crusts. He'd already made what was apparently meant to be Derek and was attempting to construct Peter's face with what was left.

"Ooo, that's not gonna be fun to clean up," Peter said after glancing up from his phone. Derek shrugged.

"He seems happy," he muttered.

Peter chuckled. "You're terrible at childcare. You let them do naughty things and they learn bad habits. You have to treat them like dogs. See, watch me." Peter cleared his throat, catching Stiles' attention. The boy had one finger in his mouth which he was sucking peanut butter off, some of which he'd managed to get in his hair. "Stiles, no. Bad boy," Peter said.

Stiles' finger dropped from his mouth and he looked to Derek. His bottom lip trembled as he looked down at the portraits he'd made. "I-It's you mister Peter," he said quietly, his watery gaze landing on Peter.

"Well it's dirty. And naughty."

A single tear fell from Stiles' eye and his bottom lip poked out.

"Look what you did," Derek said, getting up from the couch.

"Whoops," Peter said with a shrug. "Uncle Derek can fix it."

"You can stop calling me that."

"I don't think I will."

"I wasn't asking," Derek shot back and he turned away from Peter and approached Stiles.

Stiles watched him as another tear rolled down his cheek before the other eye let out two more. "T-that ones you... I-I-I didn't mean to m-make a m-mess." Stiles sniffed, more tears falling.

Derek looked down at the mess and attempted a smile. "Wow," he said, feigning as much excitement as he could. "They're so good, Stiles."

"I want my mummy... where's my mummy?"

Derek sighed and took the jar from Stiles, setting it on the couch. "They're busy... working," Derek said. The boy seemed to buy it. He started to wipe his eyes and he nodded. Derek wondered if Stiles had been used to his parents being absent when he was young, the sheriff always seemed to have a lot on his plate.

"How about we do more pictures?" Derek said. Stiles eyes lit up, nearly eclipsing the redness around them.

"Yea!"

Derek glanced back at the kitchen. He had a couple of pens in a drawer and he was sure Stiles had left a notepad somewhere.

"Wait here," Derek said, "I'll go get some paper."

Stiles nodded, crossing his legs and turning away from his bread and peanut butter portraits. He caught Peter's eyes and he turned his head away quickly. Peter chuckled; it looked like he'd gone from Stiles' best friend to his enemy rather quickly.

Derek grabbed two black pens from the drawer, it being the only colour he had. One was fat, and likely used for whiteboards, something the rest of the pack knew about since Derek wasn't much of a planner. The other was just a simple writing pen, the end slightly chewed. Derek scoured the counter for the notepad.

He didn't find it in the kitchen so Derek went back to the couches where Stiles was waiting for him patiently. He gave him the pens and glanced toward his bedroom.

"I'll go get you paper now, wait here okay?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing the pens with his tiny fist. Derek marvelled at how big his hands were compared to the child. He got up and hurried to his room. He moved his covers around before glancing around the floor. He finally found a ruffled little notebook in the bedside table and he went back to give it to Stiles.

Derek walked around the couches and stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced at Peter since he was the only one there. "Where's Stiles?"

Peter pointed, without looking to the far windows. Derek followed his finger and saw Stiles leaning against a window, his tongue stuck out as he doodled on the glass.

"Stiles, no!" Derek called, dashing toward the boy as Peter laughed.

"What did I tell you?" he chuckled.

Derek managed to gently pry Stiles from the window and make him sit on the floor with his pens and paper instead. He wiped away the doodles easily as well as the peanut butter and crust mess from before. By the time he'd finished all of that he remembered that the rest of his pack were still searching for Stiles.

Derek glanced at Stiles who was lay on his stomach, his legs up in the air behind him as he swapped between pens and tore each new drawing out, placing it in a circle around him. He shook his head fondly and walked toward the couch to grab his phone.

"Someone text you," Peter muttered from behind his book.

"What?"

Peter dropped his book and just smirked at Derek as he snatched up his phone.

"You could have told me."

Peter shrugged, resuming his book.

Derek checked his phone and found a message from Scott fifteen minutes before.

'Have news. Be @ yours soon.'

Derek looked over at Stiles who had his tongue out as he cautiously drew a circle, his entire fist around the pen. He wondered what news could be more important than the child in Derek's care.

So Derek just sent back, 'me too.' He dropped his phone back on the couch and listened out for the rumbling of a bike or car outside. He was hoping they'd bring his car back as clean as they'd taken it. Stiles' jeep was still out there waiting for him.

Derek only had to wait another four minutes when Scott's bike rumbled to a stop outside. Derek moved to the door, shielding Stiles from view since he was going to be a shock discovery to the younger wolves.

Unfortunately for Derek, who hadn't been paying attention, he felt a small tug at his shirt. He looked back to see Stiles looking up at him hopefully.

"I'm hungry, Derek," he said, holding his small middle as if it were shrivelling up.

"Hold on-"

The door handle moving interrupted Derek and he turned back toward the sound.

"Derek! We found his phone!" Scott stumbled through the doors, picking himself up quickly and bolting toward Derek. He held his hand high in the air, a celllphone crushed in his palm. Stiles hugged Derek's leg, jumping behind him when he realised how fast Scott was moving.

"I found-"

Scott stopped when he got close, looking down at the child hiding behind Derek. Scott looked up at Derek, his brow heavy with a frown.

"Derek," he hissed. "We're looking for Stiles. What the hell have you been doing and where-" Scott looked down at the kid and leaned closer. "-Where the hell did you get a kid from?"

Before Derek had a chance to reply the door was flung open again and Alison walked in, looking a little flustered from following Scott.

"I'm going to explain everything," Derek said slowly, his hand on Stiles' shoulder for comfort. "You just need to-"

"Stiles was turned into a child," Peter interrupted bluntly much to Derek's annoyance who's lip curled to reveal fangs at Peter.

Scott just stood staring at Peter before his eyes slowly fell to the small child. "Stiles?" he mumbled.

Allison nudged Scott's arm, her scowl also set on Peter. "That's a cruel trick," she snapped. "C'mon Scott, he's messing with you."

"Am I? Why don't you ask uncle Derek," Peter said before lifting his book again and ignoring the teens.

"Derek?" Scott looked at the older wolf who had tightened his grip on the bewildered child.

"He's right," he said and he gently guided Stiles in front of him. "The witch must have gotten to him first, I don't know what else it could be."

Stiles looked up at Derek's pained expression.

"Where did you find him?" Scott asked and Allison rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder harder.

"Scott, you can't be serious?"

"Then who is that!?" Scott said, pointing at the child who was trying to turn and get behind Derek's leg.

Allison looked at the boy and shook her head. "It... it's ridiculous," she said. "This isn't funny. Stiles is still missing."

"Oh, it is ridiculous," Peter said in his calm drawl. He set down his book and turned from his seat on the couch. "It's ridiculously hilarious. And what's funnier is that is Stiles. He's gone from sarcastic, annoying know it all to-" Peter looked down at the boy who was pouting back at him. "Well, he's still annoying but at least the old Stiles could use the toilet."

"I can go potty!" Stiles shouted indignantly, folding his arms and glaring at Peter.

Peter laughed and clapped twice. "He's potty trained, how delightful." He turned to look at Scott then. "I found him," he said, putting his hand over his chest. "Trust me, I wasn't actively looking, he walked into me, told me he was lost and told me his name was Stiles."

Scott looked at Allison, shifting from foot-to-foot nervously. "What other kid could be called Stiles?" he mumbled. Allison stood there in silence for a moment before breaking into a grin.

"Really, Scott? That's your first thought? Peter is lying!"

"That's a harsh assumption."

"Not when we're talking about you," Allison shot back. "I don't think you can tell the truth."

Peter pursed his lips, nodding in agreement before shrugging and turning away from them.

Allison grabbed Scott's arm and started pulling him back to the door. "C'mon, Scott, leave these clowns to have their fun."

Stiles heard his friends name that time and he stopped glaring at Peter's head and he watched after the teenagers curiously.

"Scotty?" he said. Scott pulled away from Allison who had also stopped by the door.

Scott stared at the boy. Those features were so familiar. The slightly upturned nose, the smattering of freckles. Scott blinked slowly and knelt down, shuffling closer to the boy.

"Stiles?" Scott asked and the boy smiled toothily.

"Are you Derek's friend?" the boy asked and he hopped back to Derek, his back against Derek's legs. "Derek's my friend," he said as he tilted his head to look up at Derek. "And Scotty's my bestest friend ever! We're gonna have proper adventures one day... I should have brought him with me!"

Allison let the door go and it clanged in the silence left by the boy's excited chatter. She stared, her mouth agape, at the four-year-old. Peter was smirking from where he was sat on the couch.

Scott was also just staring at the boy. "Stiles," he mumbled. "It's me, it's Scott."

Stiles stopped watching Derek (who wasn't too pleased with constantly being stared at,) and he frowned at Scott.

"You're not Scott. You're too tall. Scott's my height, he thinks he's taller but I don't think so." Stiles shook his head.

Scott looked up at Derek who was looking a little guilty.

"We're going to have to find a way to explain this all to him."

Thanks for reading. Please review.