Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1838281.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin, Malia_Tate,
      Kira_Yukimura, Alan_Deaton
  Additional Tags:
      Episode_Related, AU_after_S4E1, Magic, Smut, Frottage, Fluff, Mild_Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-24 Words: 2219
****** Same man, same face ******
by ImagineYourself
Summary
     Derek as a teenager seems to be more fun to hang out with than normal
     Derek, but when they get the counterspell to change him back Stiles
     worries that he doesn't want to hang out anymore.
Notes
     My friend wanted this and I've been in the writing mood lately so
     here I actually finished something. it's also midnight and this is
     not very well read over
If there was one bad thing about Derek now that he was young again, it was that
he was still the snarky, eye-rolling, dumb-questions-asking werewolf that he
was before. Stiles supposed that was to be expected, though. But the cool thing
about having a teenaged Derek was that they could hang out and it didn't feel
awkward with the whole age difference thing. In fact, Stiles almost forgot that
the guy was actually a lot older than him. He had to remind himself every once
in a while, especially when the guy was acting like a real teenage little shit.
“Are you kidding? I totally would have had you! You cheated!”
“No, I didn't, Stiles. Unlike you, I don't need to cheat to win.” Derek had a
smirk on his round young face and Stiles reached across the couch to punch him
in the shoulder. Derek raised a brow. “Really, you want to go there? You know
I'm a lot stronger than you.”
The actual teenager in the room grumbled to himself but reluctantly turned back
to the screen. “Rematch,” he stated sullenly. They'd been hanging out a lot
since Derek was reverted to his younger self. It was nice, Stiles thought, to
have someone other than Scott (who recently seemed to be ridiculously busy with
“pack stuff” and didn't have time to just chill with his best friend anymore).
When they'd returned from Mexico, the group decided they needed a long deserved
break to try and plan what they were going to do next, and Stiles took that as
time off to mess around and attempt some semblance of normality.
They were halfway through the race when Scott suddenly burst through the door.
“Guys, I've got something.”
“What is it?” both Derek and Stiles asked at the same time. They shared a look,
Stiles grinning, and the werewolf rolled his eyes.
“It's a spell, an old spell is what Deaton says. That chamber we found him in?
It's got death magic all over it. The spell would have eventually turned Derek
into a baby, and then he would die. It would reverse his—his whole lifespan,”
Scott told them, sitting down on the coffee table in front of them.
“Wow,” Stiles muttered, mouth agape.
Scott half-laughed, running a hand over his face. “Yeah. Deaton says he can
come up with a way to reverse it, but it'll take a couple of days.”
“I've been like this a couple of weeks already, what's a few more days?” Derek
said rhetorically. “On that note, I think I'm gonna head out. See you tomorrow,
Stiles.” He left quickly and Stiles watched the door shut behind him.
“You guys have been hanging out a lot,” Scott commented offhandedly.
Stiles shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, once you get to know him he's not that
bad. Actually a lot more for conversation than I gave him credit for.” Scott
was giving him a weird look, like he was about to ask something else, but
Stiles quickly forged ahead with, “How are you and Kira?”
The alpha relaxed into a more sheepish pose. “We're uh... we're good.”
“Yeah?” Stiles smiled, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Tell me
about it.”
.
.
It was late at night three days later, after another few rounds of Mario Kart,
a few reading sessions at the loft where Stiles and Derek sat around
researching were-jaguars and the Olmec, and some menial conversations, that
Deaton finally called with the counter spell. The pack gathered at the vet's
office, laying a shirtless Derek down on the table as the emissary made sure he
had everything he needed and started mixing up the ingredients.
“I feel like I've been on this table too many times the past couple of years,”
Derek whispered to Stiles, who laughed and smacked his bare shoulder playfully.
Deaton started painting his chest with strange symbols that Stiles had never
seen, mumbling the spell under his breath.
It took him about ten minutes to finish, Derek's flesh almost completely
covered by the weird reddish goo he was using. When he was done, he looked
around the group slowly. “It shouldn't take long to set in, but it might be
painful for him. His body has to grow up again very quickly,” the vet told
them.
Scott put his hand on Derek's ankle, ready to help, and Stiles just stayed
where he was at Derek's shoulder. Lydia, Kira, and Malia all were standing
back, watching in anticipation. Stiles' hands were gripping the edge of the
table, the only thing that betrayed how nervous he was feeling. He felt
something brush against his fingers and looked down to see Derek resting his
hand atop Stiles', looking up at him with something unreadable.
Suddenly, his eyes screwed shut and his body convulsed in a flare of pain.
Without thinking, Stiles grabbed onto the hand touching his, Stiles' other hand
simultaneously trying to hold Derek down by his shoulder. A groan of pain left
the werewolf's mouth and his eyes opened wide, flashing bright blue as his
fangs erupted. Black lines traveled up Scott's arm as he tried to help, but it
wasn't enough.
Under his hands, Stiles could feel something shifting within Derek. His bones
were moving, cracking, breaking, and refitting themselves as he grew taller,
bulkier. The familiar form of adult Derek Hale was emerging. Derek threw his
head back, hitting it on the table, his throat bared. Hoarse screams broke from
him, his entire body a taught line of strain until, finally, he collapsed. He
was limp, unconscious, but most definitely returned to his normal state, dark
stubble and impressive muscle accounted for.
Stiles didn't breathe until a few seconds later when Derek opened his eyes, and
gasped. “Oh thank God,” Stiles whispered, barely aware that he said it at all.
“Did it work?” Derek asked, voice raw.
“Yeah, it worked,” Scott told him, taking his hand away, black lines receding
into his veins.
Relaxing, Derek closed his eyes. “Good.”
Stiles tried to step away then, wanting to take his hand back, but found it in
an iron grip. Derek seemed to have slipped back into a state of unconsciousness
so, sighing, Stiles pried his fingers away with difficultly, stumbling
backwards once he was free. Malia was staring at him oddly when he righted
himself and he squinted at her. “What?”
“Nothing!” she said, raising her hands in peace and turning away.
Stiles heaved another sigh. He did not need any more were-anything trouble for
a while. With one last look at Derek, he left, heading home for some needed
rest.
.
.
A few days passed, which Stiles spent researching alone and trying to play
video games alone and masturbating... alone. So it was no surprise that when
the front door opened and he was up in his room, knowing his dad was most
definitely still at work considering he'd just gotten off the phone with him,
Stiles bolted down the stairs.
“Scott, man, I knew you'd come through! I've been so bored I—” Stiles shut up
when he finally saw who the visitor was, and it was a lot more stubble and less
crooked jaw than he'd been expecting. “Uh, hey Derek,” he managed to stutter.
“Hey.” Derek looked around a little shyly, his hands in his pockets.
“Um. What are you doing here?”
“Well, I just... You haven't talked to me in a few days so I was just wondering
if you were okay.” Derek sounded meek and wasn't meeting Stiles' eyes, both
things serving to make Stiles worry.
“Yeah, man, I'm fine. How are you doing? Back to your old self, right?”
The werewolf nodded, the tightness of his mouth drawing Stiles' attention.
“Yeah. Look, if this is a bad time, I can go.”
“No, no, it's cool. I wasn't really doing anything. Just, you know... researchy
stuff.” Stiles wanted to hit himself in the head. Researchy stuff, real smooth.
Derek hesitantly smiled and said, “Yeah, you're good at that.”
“Want to help me?”
“Sure.”
So they ended up back in Stiles' room, Stiles showing him the yarn connections
he had made and the progress he'd had in just the past few days. Derek sat on
the bed listening intently, only asking a couple of questions at appropriate
times. It was all very formal. When his little presentation was over, Stiles
didn't really know what to do with himself, so he sat in his desk chair and
spun back and forth a few times.
When Derek didn't say anything, Stiles stood up again, pacing. “Look, I know
you're all back to normal and you probably don't care about all this stuff—”
“Woah, who said I don't care? I've been helping you, I'm just trying to think
through it all.”
“Well, I mean, you're not all teenager anymore so I thought you probably
wouldn't want to hang out with me and—” Stiles knew he was rambling, but he
couldn't help it. Derek didn't want to hang out with him, he knew that, so why
was the guy humoring him with this little display. He didn't understand.
Derek stood up and grabbed the boy's shoulders to get him to stop. “Stiles.
Hey, look at me.” He waited until those bright brown eyes were locked on his.
“I'm still the same guy I was before. Nothing has to change just because I'm
back to looking like my regular age. I still want to research with you and I
want to beat you at Mario Kart and I want—” he stopped, frowning.
“You want...?” Stiles prompted.
“I want you,” Derek told him softly.
Stiles stared at him for a long moment, his expression going from mildly
confused to suspicious to even more confused. “But, Derek—”
The werewolf shut him up with a kiss, hands sliding up to cup his face and tilt
it just right. Stiles was shocked into stillness for a few seconds before he
got with the program and started kissing back, wrapping his arms around Derek's
neck. He pushed the wolf back until he was at the chair, falling into it
ungracefully. Stiles decided that the image of Derek with lust shine in his
eyes and spit-slick lips was one of his favorites and the only thing to make it
better would be a shirtless Derek. So he pulled the tee shirt Derek was wearing
over his head and tossed it to the side, straddling him and taking a seat on
the werewolf's lap.
“God, Derek,” Stiles mumbled into his ear. Derek clutched at his thigh with one
hand, the other fisting the fabric of his shirt, nose buried in Stiles' neck.
His stubble scratched and tickled in all the right ways and Stiles ground his
hips instinctively. “Don't rip my shirt,” he managed to gasp as Derek bit
lightly.
“Then take it off,” the werewolf growled.
Stiles smirked. “Bossy.” But he did as he was told, tossing the fabric away so
they were left in just jeans. Derek took hold of his hips, pulling him close
even as Stiles tilted Derek's face back up so that he could kiss him again
hungrily.
“Wouldn't the bed be better for this?” Derek said around Stiles' mouth and
darting tongue.
“Yeah, but that requires moving and the only moving I'm okay with right now is
this.” Stiles punctuated his words with a sharp roll of his hips, pressing his
hardness against Derek's. The wolf moaned, tipping his head back, and Stiles
took advantage of the bare skin before him. He mapped out Derek's pulse point
with his tongue, tugged on his ear with his teeth, and sucked on his Adam’s
apple with fervor.
The way Derek was moving, meeting Stiles' awkward sitting thrusts, was melting
the younger man in a way he'd never felt before. He barely spared a thought for
his chair and wondered if their combined weight would break it, but really, he
didn't care that much. He instead cared much more about getting the incredibly
sexy man below him off before he came first. If the sounds Derek was making was
any tell, it seemed they were both close, and Stiles ground harder, shoved his
hands in Derek's hair and pulled him into a dirty kiss that was more tongue
than anything.
Stiles almost felt disappointed when he ended up coming first anyway, but the
sweet euphoria that flooded his system as he moaned loud into Derek's mouth was
enough to cover up the feeling. He kept going, though, riding it out, and just
a few thrusts later he could feel Derek's body seizing up in orgasm beneath
him. They slowly came down, breathing hard against each other's mouths and just
watching. Stiles broke their gaze first, sighing happily and resting his face
against Derek's neck.
“Fuck, that was good,” he mumbled.
“Just good?” Derek asked.
Stiles huffed a laugh and bit him lightly in spite. “Just good. Next time, I'm
sure you'll make it better.”
“Next time?”
Pulling back to look at him again, Stiles grinned. “Hell yeah, next time. Or
else I'll use the fact that you're more vocal during sex than any other time as
leverage against you.”
Derek went to raise his brows, but ended up smiling anyway, pulling Stiles in
for a slow kiss. “Next time we'll use the bed.”
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