from top - bottom isaac tullis @ dna, conor fay @ msa, justin crichlow@ img, kyle pacholok @ major, brian altemus @ fusion, david howland @ wilhelmina, spencer nauman @ major, chase hill @ img, anders donatelli @ fusion, and phillip mayberry @ major
Sterek: When Boyd comes back from a routine patrol with Isaac and Erica pocket-sized, Derek is rightfully concerned. Stiles is freaking out just four feet from him, making the whole situation even worse. After letting Boyd explain how exactly something like this could have happened, they proceed to do damage control. Which mostly means, Stiles as their newly appointed emissary makes the calls to the rest of the pack, sends the pre-written texts they all have in their phones for occasions similar to this to the parents, guardians, partners, well whoever he deemed necessary. Boyd disappears almost the second Derek stops questioning him, and Derek is left with two kids not even old enough for school, flashing their golden eyes at him every time he so much as moves in a direction they don’t like.
This was not how Derek expected to spend his Saturday.
He also didn’t expect to spend two weeks co-parenting with Stiles Stilinski. And liking it. It would be much better if Scott stopped laughing at him every time Derek has to chase after buck naked Isaac and get him to wear a damn pair of pants.
As Derek later recalled it was not one of his best moments. But in his defense, they had been in most cases attacked by those really inconspicuous. He was just prepared to defend the fragile human next to him. He’s sticking with that story. Derek was not in any way freaked out by two little children.
“Boyd? What is this?” he asked after a few beats when his fangs and claws retreated. His beta tried to look at him but failed miserably somewhere half way through. Boyd mumbled something. “I’m sorry, what?” Stiles next to him asked, not taking his gaze from the pair of tiny people half hiding behind Boyd’s legs. Shaking. Derek suddenly felt like crap. Boyd wasn’t meek enough not to glare at Stiles for that, though. “I said it’s Erica and Isaac.” The beat of silence was followed by Stiles throwing away his computer which landed on the sofa with a soft ‘thud’ and then proceeding to flail all over the place while yelling at no one in particular. “No. NO. I refuse. This shit has to have some limit, and I draw it at de-aging. Just no fucking way. I refuse!” Derek croaked: “How?” Boyd sighed. “They are idiots who jump in before thinking.” “How the hell didn’t whatever did that get you too?” Stiles paused in his tirade to ask. Boyd growled at him. “I am not an idiot like these two. I actually expected a trap. They just took off sooner than I could warn them. And then this happened,” he gestured to the pair almost hanging from his jeans. Stiles swore. “Fucking typical.” Then he immediately began to plan what to do and how to fix it, pacing around the loft, clearly on a mission. Derek, on the other hand, ignored everything else except his two betas watching him still half hidden behind Boyd’s legs. They couldn’t even be old enough to attend school, damn. Were they at least still werewolves? Derek flashed his red eyes on them, and they both flashed their pure gold back at him. Well, thank fuck. Still weres then. Small mercies and all that jazz. “Boyd, send the messages, we can’t send them home like this. They have to stay here.” Stiles hollered from the other side of the room, holding his own phone only a two inches from his face. Derek ignored them both in favor of the little ones. They were still his betas, he could feel them, but he very much doubted it’s still them. Thay had to be de-aged mentally just as much as physically. Just great. He sighed. This is going to be a pain. And then he paused.