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The day before Lydia’s birthday party Stiles is stopped at his front door by a tiny hand tugging on his shirttail. He sighs and spins around on the heel, glancing down at Paisley a little grudgingly. She’s got the sweetest smile on her face as she stands there with her hand still holding his shirt and her backpack in the other hand.
“Hi, Mr. Stiles.”
Stiles opens his mouth to respond when he’s interrupted by her mom rushing through the row of bushes separating the Stilinski yard from the Matthews yard. He waves shortly.
“Oh, good! You’re here!” she says, out of breath and fast as always. “Can you watch her for a little while? I got called in to work and I thought I was going to have to bring her with me but then she saw your jeep pull up and once again you’re a savior, Stiles!” Ms. Matthew’s is thrusting a twenty into Stiles’ hand and turning around to run back to her yard, not even giving Stiles the chance to answer her.
He stands there giving his best impression of a fish. Paisley giggles next to him and tugs on his shirt. “Come on, Mr. Stiles!” She hoists her backup up on her shoulder and starts tapping the toe of one shoe on the doorstep.
Stiles can only sigh heavily. So much for an afternoon of video games.
*
Paisley, for once, is being quiet for longer than five minutes. She’s coloring on the coffee table, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth in concentration, and crayon moving swift and sure over the page. Stiles is leaning in the doorway watching and basking in the silence. It’s not every day that Paisley Matthews is quiet and content in the presence of one Stiles Stilinski.
But of course that is short lived because a few seconds later Paisley is putting her crayon down and turning to stare at Stiles, oddly calm looking, and saying, “Mr. Stiles, you’re pretty awesome.” She smiles innocently at him and Stiles perks up, his Paisley Radar pinging too close to red.
“Yeahhh,” he responds slowly. He slowly walks into the living room, ready to catch if she suddenly decides she’s going to be evil and throw something. It’s happened before. And that’s a day Stiles refuses to dwell on. “What do you want, Paisley?”
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Why do you think I want something?” She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and chews on it thoughtfully.
“Because you’re Paisley, that’s why,” he answers. “You act innocent and sweet when you want something. You started doing it as soon as you learned how to walk and talk and throw heavy things.” She’s following him with her eyes and doesn’t stop until he’s sitting on the couch a few inches away. It creeps him out but he holds her stare.
“Fine,” she huffs. She stands and steps over to him, quickly crawling on his lap and throwing an arm around his neck. She starts kicking her feet back and forth and the heels of her shoes hit Stiles’ shins every time they swing backwards. It stings but he keeps his mouth shut. “I just wanna ask you somethin’.”
“Ask away, Paisley Mae!” He grins like he’s told the best joke in the world. Paisley just pins him with an incredulous expression—well, as incredulous as she can be for a six year old.
“Don’t be so silly, Mr. Stiles. Anyways.” She begins to pet his shoulder, and after a few seconds of that she wraps both arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. “Are you pos’tive that Mr. Derek isn’t your boyfriend? ‘cause I like Mr. Derek. And he needs to be here. Ten minutes ago.”
Stiles would slap a hand across his face if he could do so without hitting her in the process. She’s hugging him tighter and is now swaying them both back and forth lightly. She’s really pushing it now. Stiles groans and tries to unwrap her arms from around his neck (really, he should fear for his life with an evil six year old’s tiny evil hands so close to his throat), but she doesn’t budge.
“Paisley, let go of me. You’re asking about a bunch of grown-up stuff. You’re only six.”
And really Stiles is just kidding himself. He’s only sixteen, going on seventeen soon enough, and even he doesn’t understand feelings and sexuality one hundred percent. He’s been in love with Lydia since the third grade and he’s had other crushes, mostly on the completely unobtainable opposite sex—namely people like Danny—to get his mind off the fact that Lydia doesn’t want him, would rather be with Jackson in fact no matter how screwed up that situation is. And yeah, one look at Derek Hale would have anybody foaming at the mouth with sexual frustration, but like he thought he had figured out: he got over that crush a long time ago. Or so he thought.
So really he has no right telling her that it’s all a bunch of grown-up stuff.
“I’m SIX, Mr. Stiles! I’m totally a grown-up!” She pops the ‘p’ on grown-up and pats the back of his head. “And I won’t let go until you tell me.”
Stiles sighs and closes his eyes.
“Fine. But only if you promise to help me wrap my friend Lydia’s birthday present later.” Hey, bribery always worked on him as a kid. Paisley can’t be much different, except for the levels of evilness she already possesses. Although, he’s heard plenty of stories about his childhood from his dad and Mrs. McCall that would put Paisley to shame.
She reels back, squealing loudly, and pecks him on the cheek. “Deal!” She grins widely at him and wiggles around to get more comfortable; she waves her hands at him in a “Well?” gesture.
“Yes, Paisley, I am positive that me and Mr. Derek are not, and will never be, boyfriends. One day you’ll understand. Maybe when that kid who keeps pulling your pigtails tries to give you his cooties you’ll know how it feels when people keep asking questions like that.” He gives her a pointed look even though he knows she probably has no idea what he’s saying. She’s six, not a genius.
Thankfully the cootie comment distracts her enough that Stiles can maneuver her onto the couch next to him instead of on him. Her face screws up in disgust and she scoffs loudly.
“Cooties are gross. I don’t want his cooties. Why would he give me his cooties, Mr. Stiles?” Her face scrunches up even more. Stiles wants to laugh so bad. “Mr. Stiles, you’re not answering me! Why would an icky boy give me cooties?!”
To avoid any screaming fits, Stiles places a hand over mouth and, laughing, gives her a kiss on the cheek. “One day, you little terror, you’ll understand. I promise.” He removes his hand and stands up, taking one of her own hands in his. “Now, how about that present wrapping I promised?”
She squeals in excitement.
*
Wrapping a box that’s almost bigger than Stiles himself, with a six year old who would positively get swallowed by the box is not as bad as Stiles thought it would be. It took almost an hour for them both to get the gift actually in the box, because Stiles is awesome and failed to do that the first time he meant to do it. But once it was in and Paisley was successfully not trapped in there with it, they managed to get started on the wrapping.
And wrapping is what they’re still doing.
Stiles is pretty sure they’ve gone through at least two rolls of tape, mostly due to the fact that between the two of them they can’t tape wrapping paper together at all. Stiles is getting increasingly frustrated though and Paisley is not helping just standing there directing him where to put the tape.
“Paisley!” Stiles tosses the tape onto his desk and huffs. Paisley stops talking and plants her hands on her hips, glaring. “You’re not helping a whole lot with the present wrapping!”
“Well, fine!”
Normally Stiles would reprimand the attitude but he really kind of can’t when she’s standing there, all indignant and huffy, with bits of wrapping paper stuck to her clothes and strips of tape stuck in her hair. The bow he taped to her forehead earlier doesn’t help either. Instead he laughs and picks the tape back up.
“Come on, kid. We need to get this done. The birthday girl is having her party tomorrow,” he says and smiles when Paisley runs over to help.
They’re halfway finished when Stiles hears footsteps on the stairs. He stops and listens, worried for a second because his dad is out with a few drinking buddies and won’t be home til late. It isn’t even six o’clock.
“Paisley, stay right there. I’ll be right back,” he tells her. She nods nonchalantly, too absorbed in adding numerous amounts of tape to really notice that Stiles is worried.
He tiptoes to his bedroom door and just as he’s about to poke his head the door opens. He screams a totally manly scream and flails so hard he falls backwards, landing on his ass. He glares at the intruder, who just so happens to be Derek.
“Der—“
He’s interrupted by an excited peal of laughter. Paisley comes running across the room and throws her arms around Derek’s waist. “Mr. Derek!” Stiles gapes at the scene. He knew Paisley liked Derek but he didn’t think she liked him that much.
Personally Stiles thinks Derek isn’t worth that much excitement. But he’s also not six years old and filled to the brim with evil. So he figures there’s that connection between the pair. And Derek cannot resist a cute six year old with pigtails and big Bambi eyes no matter how broody and dark he may be.
“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks. He gets to his feet and wipes off invisible dirt just to give his hands something to do.
“Wanted to see how your research was coming along,” Derek replies absently. He’s staring down at Paisley like she’s the most perplexing creature he’s ever seen.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mr. Derek!” Paisley giggles as she steps back and looks up at him. Stiles finds the picture a little funny. Just a little.
The corners of Derek’s mouth quivers but he doesn’t smile. Ha! Stiles knew he had feelings that weren’t angsty and broody and dark. Derek glares at Stiles’ snort. He rolls his eyes in fond exasperation; he’s so over the whole sour wolf exterior. He’s almost one hundred percent positive that Derek’s a big softy on the inside.
Paisley grabs Derek’s hand and tugs him over to the giant gift box. “What’s this?” Derek asks, eyebrow lifting high on his forehead and seriously, Stiles has go to learn how to do that.
“Lydia’s present for her party tomorrow,” Stiles says as he grabs the tape again and resumes the wrapping. Paisley takes her rolls of tape and hands it to Derek, watching him expectantly. Stiles shrugs when Derek looks over at him a little helplessly.
That’s something Stiles thought he would never see. Derek has always been the silent angsting type, never the one to really show his emotions on his face unless it’s anger. So seeing him looking anything but dangerous and like the Broody McBrood Pants that he totally is, is something surprising. Stiles should probably take it in; remember this moment for future use. Just in case.
“She wants you to help dude.” When Derek huffs Stiles grins. “It’s not that hard to tape wrapping paper to a box, Derek. Calm thy self.”
Paisley giggles and that finally gets Derek to smile. Just a little. But a little is enough.
*
At exactly nine p.m. there’s a frantic knock on the front door. Stiles jerks awake, nearly falling off the couch in his surprise. He catches himself before he can hit the floor and, once he’s standing on two stable feet, checks to make sure he didn’t wake Paisley. She’s still drooling on Derek’s shoulder so points for Stiles.
He hurries to the door to open it before the knocking can wake Paisley. Ms. Matthews is standing on the other side looking harried and slightly worse for wear.
“Hi, Stiles. Sorry for being so late, but I ended up working longer than they needed me for!” She smiles apologetically. Stiles shrugs. They had a good time, that’s all that matters.
“Paisley’s sleeping. Do you mind if my friend brings her out to you?” Stiles asks quietly. Ms. Matthews nods and slumps against the doorframe for a moment.
Stiles turns and heads back into the living room. Derek’s awake and staring at the sleeping girl on his shoulder. Stiles almost wants to get the camera and snap a quick picture, but he doesn’t. He clears his throat to get Derek’s attention and motions for him to pick her up and bring her to the door. Derek looks just this side of terrified.
Rolling his eyes, Stiles walks over and eases Paisley back enough for Derek to get up. “Just….pick her up and carry her.” He waits for Derek to get over his apparently huge fear of children enough to scoop Paisley in his arms.
Stiles’ heart melts. In a manly way. Because he’s manly. Totally. Snapping himself out of it he picks up Paisley’s backpack and takes a calming breath.
On the way to the front door Paisley stirs and sticks her thumb in her mouth. Stiles waits with bated breath to see if she wakes completely, and when she only flutters her eyes open and stares at them sleepily he sends a silent thank you to whoever’s listening. Normally, when Paisley wakes up from any kind of nap, she’s either grumpy or full of even more energy. It’s a very rare thing for her to be so calm and content following a nap.
She sighs and snuggles against Derek’s chest. Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s holding his breath and probably freaking out a lot on the inside. Shaking his head, he gets to the door before them so he can hold it all the way open. Ms. Matthews looks surprised to see Derek carrying her child but she smiles when she sees that Paisley is half asleep and sucking a thumb.
Derek hands her over carefully then moves back into the house fast. Stiles rolls his eyes at him in exasperation before turning back to Paisley and her mom and handing over the backpack. Paisley gives him a slight grin around the thumb in her mouth, waving with her free hand.
“Bye, Mr. Stiles. Bye, Mr. Derek,” she mumbles, eyes already closing and breathing evening out. Stiles waves and watches until they’re both through the bushes and have disappeared inside the house.
Once they’re safely inside Stiles closes his own front door and then leans against it, sighing heavily. Derek is still standing there, this time looking sheepish and maybe a bit embarrassed. He’s picking at a loose thread on the end of his jacket sleeve, feet shuffling back and forth.
“Oh my god this is gold!” Stiles suddenly shouts. Derek actually startles. “Derek Hale, afraid of children and embarrassed about it! I need this on film!”
He’s doing a happy dance when Derek grabs the front of his shirt and pushes him against the door. Stiles only laughs. He’s pretty sure his back has missed the walls Derek always slammed him into. Derek’s mouth is quirked up in one corner, though, belying his intent to be menacing and scary.
“Don’t say a word, to anyone,” Derek says not-so-convincingly. “Or I’ll rip your throat out…with my teeth.”
Stiles pats Derek on the shoulder. “Keep talkin’, buddy. You’re so not convincing me anymore.” He grins and ducks out from under Derek’s hold.
He’s jogging up the stairs when he hears Derek’s chuckle. And really, his heart needs to slow down right about now. Or else he’s going to be in so much trouble with Paisley and Derek.