[I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON BB HAVE SOME DE-AGED RIDICULOUSNESS]
Scott just stares for a second. “Holy shit, what was in that goop?”
They’ve managed to defeat that ridiculous mischievous trickster spirit that had been wreaking havoc all over Beacon Hills. It had exploded into a mess of sparkly purple goop, which had apparently transformed anyone within the blast radius… into a toddler. And “anyone” meant that both Stiles and Derek were now chubby-cheeked baby versions of themselves.
Scott recognizes Stiles as the same bright eyed kid he met on the playground in preschool many years before, and Stiles immediately begins screaming in confusion. Derek on the other hand is quiet and looks suspiciously around, holding onto the over-sized henley he’s now wearing, staring at the pile of jeans around him.
Kira giggles. “They’re so cute!” She reaches out and pinches Stiles’ cheeks.
"AHHH!" Stiles shrieks. "Who are you? Where’s my mom?"
"Stiles— Stiles, it’s okay, it’s me, Scott!" Scott says, crouching down so he’s on Stiles’ level.
Stiles examines him for a moment. “Scott is my age, ‘n you’re all grown up,” he says.
"No really, I’m Scott. You peed on my sandcastle when we were kids."
Stiles grabs his face, poking it with his little fingers, eyes wide.
"You’re grown up too, just…um, there’s was an accident, but we’re going to fix it!" Scott says earnestly.
"Okay," Stiles says.
Derek meanwhile is staring up into Scott’s face. “You’re an Alpha werewolf,” he says, lip wobbling. “Mommy said if I ever get lost to talk find the Alpha. Can you take me home?” he asks with a slight lisp. He raises up his chubby little arms expectantly.
Scott automatically picks him up, holding him in his arms.
"Carry me too, grown-up Scott!" Stiles wails.
Scott has one kid in each arm, both of them drowning in ridiculously large shirts.
"Say cheese," Lydia says, holding up her phone.
"Wait, Lydia, no—" Scott protests.
"Believe me, I am going to be taking pictures of this entire thing until it gets fixed, this is hilarious," Lydia says grinning.
Which is how Derek finds himself a week later, staring at a laptop at a video of his four-year-old self talking solemnly to the camera.
"When I grow up, I’m going to marry St-Stiles," baby Derek says sincerely, looking up at the camera with a shy smile.
Scott is laughing in the background, and then Lydia’s voice says, “Oh really, why’s that?”
"Because St-Stiles is the best, and he gave me his blanket to share and brought me apple juice to drink after I said it was my f-f-favorite," Derek says, smiling happily. He’s missing two of his front teeth.
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