Chapter Text
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This is a stand-alone fic and is not linked to my story Somebody’s Gotta Tell Him.
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How Stiles had been nominated to act as teen-Derek’s chaperone, she would never know. It mainly boiled down to the fact that, after the danger from Kate had passed, Scott was tied up in his own drama and there was no extra room at the McCall residence. That left Stiles in her current predicament – standing in her living room with Derek and her father, asking if Derek could stay in their spare bedroom until the whole de-aging magical whammy eventually wore off.
Thus far, it was not going well.
Noah eyed the teenage werewolf with barely concealed apprehension, taking in the unhealthy measure of swagger and self-confidence oozing off the kid. He was entirely too good looking and built for 16 years old and it was clear that he damned well knew it.
Derek smiled back at the Sheriff, self-assured and showing off just a few too many teeth to look strictly human.
“Alright. Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Noah began, rubbing his forehead as he prayed for strength. “You want me to allow a teenaged boy to sleep directly across the hall from my teenaged daughter with zero parental supervision while I’m pulling overnight shifts?”
“Daaaad!” Stiles groaned. “It’s still Derek! I mean, yes, he is a miniaturized version of himself at the moment, but he’s still the same person.” She smacked Derek on the chest with the back of her hand as she urged, “Tell him, dude.”
Derek’s eyes flicked from his chest to her hand a few times in palpable disbelief before his face scrunched up in annoyance.
Stiles’ jaw dropped, her head tilting to the side as she eyed him suspiciously. No way. No freaking way was he this predictable. And yet… No, yeah. She totally recognized his expression anywhere. Which meant she knew exactly what came next. And so, she waited for Derek to open his mouth so that she could say at the exact same time:
“Don’t call me ‘dude’.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude’,” Derek groused, only to flinch in surprise as her voice echoed his, matching his tone and words perfectly.
“Oh, Lord,” Noah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Stiles smiled smugly and held up her hands as if she had just completely proven her point. “See? Same old, predictable Sourwolf. Trust me, being trapped under the same roof with me will provide all the motivation he needs to transform back of his own volition. I give him 24 hours tops.”
When Noah’s hand dropped from his face, he found Derek eyeing Stiles in a mixture of bewilderment and, alarmingly, open wonder.
SHIT.
Noah returned to scowling, his eyes locking on the werewolf and voice taking on the unmistakable tone of a protective father. “Derek…”
The teen flinched, looking back at Noah guiltily, as if he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Noah’s scowl grew more severe. “You may be young enough at the moment that it would not technically be illegal were you to take any liberties with my daughter… my only daughter…”
“Oh, God. Kill me now,” Stiles groaned as she let her head fall back.
Noah patted his gun as he continued. “…but I can assure you, I would feel no guilt whatsoever shooting you in the ass with one of the wolfsbane rounds your adult-self so kindly provided me with. Are we clear?”
Derek paled considerably and nodded. “Crystal clear, sir.”
Noah grunted incredulously. He knew it would take more than the threat of physical harm to scare off a cocky, smitten 16-year-old boy. He turned to Stiles. She was Noah’s only hope of preventing the likelihood of this going badly. He was relying on Stiles’ impulse control here – and wasn’t that just a horrifying position to find himself in? He really did not want to have to leave a litter of furry grand-puppies fatherless.
“I’m heading to the station. Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he begged as he kissed her cheek.
Stiles worried her bottom lip and eyed her father curiously as he pulled on his coat. “Like, did you have something specific in mind that I should avoid, or just anything generally stupid?” she asked in feigned ignorance as she flailed her hands. “Because I gotta be honest, you’re casting a pretty wide net there, Dad. I mean I have such a vast and varied catalogue of stupid acts I could partake in on any given evening that –”
Noah clamped his hand over Stiles’ mouth and sighed when he felt her smile behind it. “Don’t do anything generally stupid. Please.”
Stiles gave her father a mock salute when he released her. “Got it, pops. Now, get out there and catch some bad guys. But no supernatural ones, please! Leave those to our resident beasties. Even the beasties that happen to be presently pint-sized.” She grinned over at Derek at that, earning a harsh glower in reply.
Noah shook his head and hoped for the best as he headed out the door.
As soon as he was gone, Stiles turned towards Derek and clapped her hands together. And then her lips were moving, and Derek was left struggling to follow along.
“Right. So, you’re probably starving. I mean you typically are after a battle, but add on top of that the fact that you’ve still got at least two solid growth spurts ahead of you and you’ve gotta be ready to hulk out and eat a whole herd of cattle at this point, right? Feel free to raid the fridge and cabinets for whatever. If you’re still hungry in a little while, I’ll order some pizzas. Or wait…” Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously, passing over his physique as she asked, “Are you already in that whole ‘my body is a temple’ stage?” She shrugged, her features softening as she grudgingly conceded, “Which, I mean, okay, to be fair, it will most definitely classify as a monument to masculinity when you’re fully grown.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes locking on a point on the far wall and going out of focus for a few seconds before she blinked rapidly and plowed on in her tangent. “Any-who, are you still eating normal teenage stuff at this age? Or am I going to have to go find some of that organic, raw, free range, pricey bullshit you usually eat? I mean, I’m lost here. You didn’t exactly come with a manual. Like ‘The Proper Care and Feeding of Your Growing Grouchy Wolf’.” She snorted to herself at that, declaring in amusement, “Oh, man, I should totally write that.” She laughed again, then waved her hands, barely pausing for him to even attempt to formulate a reply to any of her previous questions. “Whatever, we’ll figure it out. Um… Feel free to play any of the games on the PlayStation. You can watch whatever you want or order a movie if you see something you’re into. I’ll just make you pay me back for it when you’re big again.”
“You talk… so much,” Derek breathed in a mixture of horror and awe.
Stiles cracked up at that. “Oh, you have no idea. This is but the tip of the iceberg, big guy.” Her features twisted as soon as the nickname left her mouth. “Or shit, wait… I guess like… ‘medium-sized guy’ at the moment? Hmm. Gonna have to work on that.”
And then, without any warning at all, she turned to head upstairs, leaving Derek floundering.
“Whoa – wait. Where are you going?” he asked in confusion as he caught her by the wrist.
“Um, hello, paws?” she said, eyeing his hands until he let her go. “Thanks. Geez. I’m going to get your room ready and do my homework… if that’s okay with you?” she snarked. When he reluctantly nodded, she turned and clomped noisily up the stairs grumbling under her breath, “Grabby wolf.”
Derek’s face contorted in amusement and uncertainty. A conversation with Stiles left one feeling as if they had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. But like… in a puzzlingly pleasant way? It was really weird. And disorienting. He had no idea how to handle the human, but it seemed he at least had a temporary break from trying to figure her out. He sighed and headed into the kitchen to find something to eat.