Stiles is sitting on his knees in front of the cabinet in his and Derek’s study, looking for Derek’s old CD collection. He’s sure the damn things are in here somewhere, but he can’t remember for the life of him where exactly he stored them in the large cabinet. As he inspects the lowest shelf, his eyes fall on something even more valuable than Derek’s awesome CD’s:
He smiles softly, putting a hand on his six-months-pregnant belly as he moves himself into a cross-legged sitting position. He pulls the first album from the shelf, setting it in his lap and leafing through it.
Looking at the pictures he thinks back on his and Derek’s life together. He remembers the day Derek finally admitted to him that Stiles was his mate, when Stiles was still in college. They got together, of course, being in a long-distance relationship for a while and only seeing each other twice a month on weekends. They made it work, though, taking their time to get to know each other better and falling in love a little more every time they met.
When Stiles graduated, having earned his teaching degree, they rebuilt the old Hale house and they have been living there ever since.
Then, Derek surprised him by proposing a few years later. Stiles had always thought being mated was enough for the man, but Derek told him since it was important to Stiles, it was important to him and he wanted to be bonded in every possible way. Naturally, Stiles said yes, marrying the love of his life when he was 26 years old, the man himself 31.
And now, two years later, they are finally starting a family together. He rubs his baby bump affectionately and lets out a content sigh. He can’t wait for their twin babies to be born. He knows Derek can’t either, having longed for a family of his own – his own little pack – for so long, even though they’re happy members of Scott’s pack.
He eventually reaches the end of the photo album, putting it back on its place on the shelf and continuing his search for the CD collection. He finally finds them stacked behind some boxes with who-knows-what in them. He makes a mental note to tidy the cabinet up sometime soon before he takes the CD’s and closes it.
Stiles walks back downstairs, putting on the first CD – a collection of the best songs of The Black Keys – as background music while he prepares his lesson for his favorite five-year-olds for tomorrow.
A couple of hours later, he hears someone come through the front door. He expects it to be his husband, but instead Scott walks into the living room, palms up in front of him.
“Whatever you do, don’t panic.” He starts immediately.
Which of course makes Stiles do the exact opposite. Way to go Scotty.
“Where’s Derek?” He demands.
Scott steps to the side, revealing a de-aged Derek in the doorway to the living room. His mate was a goddamn teenager again.
Stiles blinks, doing a double take. He thinks back on the first time this happened to Derek all those years ago, when they weren’t even together yet and were stuck in that awkward face full of sexual tension and bickering.
When Stiles’ mind is back in the present, he scowls at his best friend.
“You told me you were just going to run some errands for Deaton.”
“We were…” Scott mumbles, being decent enough to look slightly guilty, “It…it was in Mexico.”
Stiles drags a hand across his face, feeling like he finally knows what his dad must have felt like all those years ago.
“Care to explain how the hell this happened to him again?”
Scott sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Well, Deaton asked us to get these specific bones, which apparently can only be found in those Aztec temples and, yeah…” he trails off, gesturing a hand towards Derek, “…that happened. Apparently some weird Aztec mojo was set loose when he touched the bones.”
Stiles silently curses Deaton for even suggesting they go back to that damn place instead of, you know, going there himself.
“Look, I really am sorry,” Scott says, his brown eyes going all puppy-dog on him, “I’ll go find Deaton and figure out how to fix this again. In the meantime you just keep an eye on him, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the pack-meeting.”
Scott gives him a final apologetic smile and leaves the house. Stiles looks at his teenage mate, who’s looking transfixed at Stiles’ protruding belly.
Derek takes a few tentative steps towards Stiles, raising hesitant hands and meeting Stiles’ eyes briefly.
Stiles nods, waiting patiently for Derek to step up to him. When he’s right in front of him, Derek lays the palms of his hands flat on the fabric of the T-shirt covering Stiles’ stomach. Then he promptly lets his head fall on Stiles’ shoulder, nuzzling and scent-marking it for a moment before he whines pathetically. Stiles chuckles, rubbing a hand up and down Derek’s back comfortingly.
“I wish I remembered you.” Derek whispers.
Only now does it occur to Stiles that Derek must have lost all of his memories up until this age, just like he did last time. So Derek must not even know him and the pack yet…
“How much do you remember?” Stiles asks, worry evident in his voice even though he tries to hide it.
Derek shrugs. “Scott told me everything already, don’t worry.”
Stiles’ brow furrows, remembering the last time they’d ‘told him everything’.
“And you just believed him?”
Derek shrugs again. “Scott’s my alpha. I trust him.”
He continues to bury his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, nuzzling it lightly.
“Besides, you smell like us, like mate. Like mine…smells so good…”
Stiles combs a hand through Derek’s hair and sighs.
“Alright big guy, how about I make us some food while you clean yourself up a bit, hm? How’s that sound?”
Derek’s head shoots up and he looks at Stiles with wide eyes.
“What is it?”
Stiles raises an eyebrow. “So?”
“You’re not cooking.” Derek states, turning him around and guiding him towards the couch where Stiles sits down and lets Derek fluff up a few pillows to help him get more comfortable.
A look of determination settles on Derek’s face and he firmly places his hands on his hips.
“I will cook for us.”
Stiles has to refrain from making a sour expression as he remembers Derek’s (non-existent) cooking skills.
“You really think that is a good idea?”
“I can cook!” Derek says defensively.
Stiles just raises an eyebrow, his face a sarcastic mask and practically screaming ‘oh really? ’
Derek throws him the TV-remote and scowls.
“Just watch some TV and you can judge my cooking skills when you’ve actually tasted them.”
“Fine.” Stiles sighs, deciding to humor his mate. They could always order take-out.
Derek takes a quick shower and when he’s done cooking, he calls Stiles to the neatly set kitchen table. Derek sets a plate of what looks like pasta carbonara in front of him with a smirk and Stiles eyes the food suspiciously.
Derek takes the seat in front of him, taking a mouthful of food and silently prompting Stiles to do the same. He does so grudgingly, but when the food touches his tongue, Stiles is unable to keep back the moan that escapes his mouth.
“Der, this is delicious…”
Derek preens, puffing out his chest and looking so proud for getting the compliment from his mate. It’s adorable.
He tries to play it cool, though, schooling his features back into nonchalance.
“Told you I could cook.”
Stiles has to bite back a smirk. “Yes you did. But, you see, older you convinced me he was the worst cook on the planet…”
Derek frowns. “Why would he do that?”
“You tell me.” Stiles shrugs and Derek shakes his head.
“Older me is an idiot.”
Stiles laughs. “Can’t deny that.”
Stiles slowly blinks himself awake in the middle of the night. He and Derek had gone to bed a few hours earlier, Derek insisting that they’d share the same bed, which Stiles couldn’t really complain about. As he fights his way to consciousness, he feels all warm and…aroused. Like, really aroused, his dick already engulfed in a wet heat. He moans.
“Oh my god Derek what are you doing?”
Derek – who had been blowing him in his sleep, goddammit – lets Stiles’ dick pop from his mouth and rolls his eyes at him.
“You were hard and I decided to take care of my mate.” He says matter-of-factly and lowers his head again to swallow Stiles down.
Stiles groans, letting his arm fall over his eyes.
“You’re not even legal.”
Derek pops off again to give his mate a pointed look.
“Something tells me we’ve had this argument before.”
“Yeah well I finally understand why you waited until I was in college.”
Derek shrugs. “Not waiting now,” And goes down on him again.
Stiles is torn. He likes the attention he’s getting from Derek – de-aged or not, he’s still his mate and he could feel their bond as strong as ever – and he’s so damn close, but then again he kind of feels like a pervert.
Then, out of nowhere, he feels a spit-slick finger circling his hole and all his thoughts fly out of the window because a few seconds later he’s coming hard and sudden down Derek’s throat.
When he comes down from his post-orgasm high he groans.
“Jesus Christ why the hell did you do that?”
“You know why.” Derek counters as he manhandles Stiles so he’s lying on his side, plastering his chest to Stiles’ back, hugging him close and nuzzling the back of his neck, effectively spooning him.
Stiles is immediately engulfed in a blanket of Derek’s body heat and combined with the fact that he just had an orgasm, he feels his eyes getting heavier pretty soon, drifting back to sleep.
I feel so dirty,” He mumbles halfheartedly.
He can feel the huff Derek breaths out, the rush of warm air tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
A small smile creeps upon Stiles’ face, because that was definitely something his Derek would say.
“Love you too, big guy”, he mumbles before he falls back to sleep.
When Stiles wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in the bed. He gets up with a yawn, stretching for a moment before making his way downstairs.
He finds Derek in the kitchen, already dressed and sitting at the table with a steaming cup of coffee.
“You’re up early.” Stiles observes, getting Derek’s attention.
He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Then he gestures a hand towards the coffee machine on the kitchen counter.
“There´s more in there, if you want.”
Stiles gives him a gentle smile, getting a mug from the cabinet above the sink and filling it with the hot liquid and some sugar. Then he sits down in the seat opposite Derek.
He takes in Derek’s wary expression, the way he doesn’t quite look at Stiles but clearly wants to, looking like he needs to get something off his chest. He looks anxious.
“What’s wrong, Der?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He says, shrugging it off.
Stiles sighs, wondering why Derek won’t talk to him.
Derek finally meets his eyes, playing with the ear of his mug.
“It’s just…I don’t really like the thought of everyone coming here today.”
Stiles frowns. It had been Derek’s own idea to hold the pack meetings at their house, because it had the most room. And Stiles was pretty sure he liked to have the Hale house packed with people again, like it had been when Derek was a kid.
“Why?” Stiles asks.
Derek sighs. “I don’t know, Stiles. I already told you not to worry about it, it’s stupid.”
“No, hey,” Stiles says, putting his hand over Derek’s on the table. “Is it because of the babies?”
Derek nods and swallows, looking at Stiles’ bump.
“I guess I just don’t like the idea of you smelling like other people right now.”
Stiles tilts his head to the side, pondering that. It makes sense, in a way. Though he is pretty sure it wasn’t a problem for older Derek.
“Okay, well they’ll only be here for an hour or so…you think you can handle that? They’ll tell us how to get you back to normal and then you can cuddle and scent-mark me all you want.”
The corner of Derek’s mouth ticks up at that.
They finish their coffee and Derek makes them some sandwiches for breakfast. After that Stiles goes back upstairs to take a quick shower and change.
About half an hour later Scott arrives, hugging Stiles in greeting.
“Hey man, everything okay here?”
Stiles glances at Derek, who looks a little constipated, clearly not that happy with the way Scott just scent-marked him.
He sighs. “Yeah…we’re fine.”
They head to the living room, Stiles sitting down in his comfy armchair with Derek standing beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
Scott looks like he wants to say something about Derek’s unusual behavior, but Stiles shakes his head and he keeps quiet.
The more pack members arrive, the more clingy Derek gets. He doesn’t want anybody near Stiles and their pups, being subtle about it at first, but it doesn’t take long before the pack is sending him questioning looks.
Which is to be expected, since Derek gets so protective that he starts to growl whenever someone gets too close to Stiles for his liking.
“So cute,” Kira coos under her breath.
Cora just groans. “It’s disgusting.”
She’s about to hand Stiles something to drink, but Derek reaches out and stops her, taking the glass of water from her and handing it to Stiles himself.
Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Can we get to the point here? How do we turn him back to normal?”
Scott clears his throat awkwardly. “Yeah…about that…”
“Spit it out, Scott.” Stiles all but growls.
“We have to go back to Mexico to reverse the spell.”
Derek immediately starts to shake his head vehemently beside him.
“No way. I’m not leaving Stiles.”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Then just take him with you.”
“No!” Derek and Scott growl at the same time.
Stiles rubs his belly protectively, glad they at least agree on that part. There is no way he’s going to put his babies in such danger, even if it´s potential danger.
“You just have to get over yourself Derek,” Lydia states firmly, “Don’t you want to be able to protect Stiles? You can’t really do that as a teenager.”
“Yes,” Derek mumbles, sounding upset.
“Then go to fucking Mexico!” Cora exclaims with a loud sigh.
“I can’t!” Derek yells back, voice breaking as his lip wobbles slightly and it tugs at Stiles’ heartstrings when he notices Derek’s eyes get watery.
Stiles stands up from his seat and gently drags him to the kitchen to talk somewhat privately.
“Der, you understand that you will have to go back to Mexico with Scott, right?”
Derek worries his bottom lip, nodding but not meeting Stiles’ eyes.
“Hey,” Stiles says, stroking Derek’s cheek with his thumb and getting his mate to look at him.
“Please go with him?” He pleads softly, “For me?”
Derek closes his eyes and puts his hand on top of Stiles’, twining their fingers together.
“I just want to take care of you.” He whispers.
Stiles leans his forehead against Derek’s, sighing.
“I know, baby, I do. But you can’t properly take care of me and the pups until you’re back to your normal age. I just…I need my husband.”
Scott enters the kitchen then, careful not to touch Stiles and upset Derek even more.
“Look at it this way,” Scott starts, “You want to keep Stiles and the pups safe, but want to get back to normal as well, right? So how about someone stays here to keep an eye on Stiles while we go back to Mexico real quick?”
Derek is silent for a minute, thinking it over. Relief floods through Stiles when he finally nods.
“Cora.” Derek says. “I trust her to keep them safe.”
As if on cue, the young woman enters the kitchen, stepping up to her brother and enveloping him in a tight hug.
“Finally,” She breaths. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss my big bro.”
Derek chuckles. “I’ll remember that.”
Cora gives him one last squeeze before letting her arms drop and letting him go, going back to the living room with Scott. Derek is about to follow them, but Stiles puts a hand on his chest to stop him.
He pulls him close, giving the boy a hug of his own, even though it is a little difficult with his round baby bump.
“Thank you.” Stiles mumbles into the side of Derek’s head, making him hug Stiles tighter.
“Anything for you.”
Stiles can’t help the cunning smile that creeps upon his face, bringing his mouth closer to Derek’s ear.
“Oh, and when you get back,” he whispers, “I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”
He leans back and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
When they enter the living room again, Scott sends him a pained look. Stiles couldn’t care less, though. The smug look on Derek’s face is totally worth it.
Derek gets back home two days later.
As he’s walking through the door entering the living room, Stiles takes a moment to appreciate the fine specimen that is his 33 year old husband; the defined muscles, the first few streaks of grey hair – which somehow makes Stiles even more attracted to him – the neatly trimmed beard.
“God, I love you.” Stiles swoons.
Derek gives him a cheeky grin. “I know.”
Stiles laughs, growing warm inside like he does every time his mate Han Solo’s him.
“Ugh, I’m outta here.” Cora grumbles, walking over to her brother and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Glad you’re back, Der-bear.”
“Yeah, me too…” Derek mumbles, not taking his eyes off of Stiles.
As soon as Cora’s out of the door Stiles steps up to Derek, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a well-deserved kiss.
Derek kisses him back hungrily, making Stiles’ mouth fall open in a moan and Derek uses that opportunity to slip his tongue inside of his mouth, deepening the kiss. Stiles lightly fists a hand in the hair on the back of Derek’s head like he knows the man loves, getting rewarded with Derek sucking gently at his lower lip.
“Missed you.” Stiles mumbles between kisses, breath hitching when Derek slides a hand inside the back-pocket of his pants and squeezes.
“Yeah?” Derek asks, kissing along his neck and jaw. “Remember you saying something about a surprise…”
Stiles giggles (it’s the pregnancy hormones, don’t judge), remembering he did in fact promise Derek to have a surprise waiting for him when he got back from Mexico.
“Wanna see it now?” He asks coyly.
Derek leans back to look at him, eyebrow raised in slight confusion, though still looking very much interested.
So Stiles does, leading his husband to the kitchen and presenting him with a wrapped gift.
“I was going to give this to you years ago, but you somehow convinced me not to at the time. Little-you made me change my mind again, though.”
Derek eyes the gift warily. “Okay…”
Stiles has to bite his lower lip to refrain from laughing at the look on Derek’s face when he opens his present.
He unfolds the piece of clothing, revealing a bright yellow apron with the text: ‘Hot stuff coming through’.
Derek lifts his head to scowl at him and Stiles snickers, unable to keep it in any longer.
“Yep, you’re not fooling me this time big guy.” He grins, patting his belly.
“Now take care of your pregnant mate and cook for us. The puppies want mac ‘n’ cheese.”
Derek rolls his eyes but complies, even putting on the apron as he scrambles the ingredients together.
Stiles is about to head out of the kitchen to go to their bedroom for a short nap when he hears Derek mutter under his breath, still close enough to make out the words.
“I hate Mexico.”
Stiles can’t stop laughing all the way upstairs.