Work Text:
Life sucked.
Derek responded to the knock on his bedroom door by turning his music up louder. If his parents were home, there would be immediate words, but they weren’t and his sister so wasn’t the boss of him.
“Derek!” Laura pounded on the door again. “Derek, quit being a poo-head and hear me out for a minute!”
Derek’s lip curled down at the pathetic insult. Normally, Laura was the queen of creative name-calling, but tonight she was on babysitting duty and the sheriff’s kid was about as impressionable as they came.
“I swear to God, if you don’t open this door, I’ll tell mom you snuck out and she’ll add another week to your grounding.”
Wrenching his door open, Derek used his body to block off any view of what had become his unwanted sanctuary for the next six days. “What?”
Laura drew back at the snap in his tone. “I need you to watch Stiles for—”
“No.”
“Come on!” Laura whined. “You know I would never ask you if this wasn’t an emergency!”
Derek’s raised brow indicated he was waiting for a better explanation.
Laura leaned in, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We’re out of milk.”
The “Fuck!” was meant more as a gasp of surprise with the way it slipped passed Derek’s lips. Both siblings looked down the hall to see if the three year old had heard.
“I could kill you for that!” Laura hissed when there was no childlike echo or overly curious eyes suddenly appearing around the corner.
“Me? What about you?!” Derek demanded. “What they hell were you thinking, not checking to see if we had milk before agreeing to babysit the devil child?”
The entire Hale family had learned the hard way that Stiles needed a cup of milk exactly one hour before bed. Otherwise, he would do his damn best to break everyone’s eardrums with his piercing wails, kick and scream until something broke, then throw up all over himself.
Fortunately for Laura, the Stilinskis had felt guilty enough to pay her double that terrible night and offered her a raise to not give up on their son. Derek still couldn’t believe she agreed.
“Because we had some this morning when I checked! But then someone,” she stressed, making it quite clear who she thought that someone was, “probably had to go and have half a gallon with their ridiculous amounts of cereal. If mom didn’t have your keys, I’d make you go out and buy—”
“Laura! I’m going potty!” Stiles’ declaration was punctuated with the slamming of the bathroom door.
“Okay! Just remember to aim for the water!” Laura shouted back.
“You know, you could just give me your car keys…”
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” she turned back to her brother, arms crossed. “Watch him while I run to the store and I’ll give you twenty bucks.”
“Forty,” Derek haggled.
“Ha! How about fifteen?”
Derek made himself comfortable against his doorframe. “I could ask for half your check tonight,” he pointed out, knowing he had the upper hand.
“And I could remind you that you’re grounded for good reason and that any money is more than you deserve right now,” Laura challenged, her eyes narrowed.
Derek remained silent, his face expectant.
“Fine,” Laura relented. “Thirty dollars, tops. And that entirely depends on both Stiles’ emotional state AND the state of the house when I get back.”
“Deal.”
Derek didn’t bother to slip out of his room until Laura was hooking her purse over her shoulder and yelling orders at Stiles through the bathroom door.
“Okay! I’ll miss you!”
“I’m not wiping his butt,” Derek muttered, ignoring Laura’s glare as he squeezed by her on his way to the living room.
Flopping down on the couch, he wasted no time in finding the remote and surfing his way up through the sports stations, knowing full well this was going to be something he missed dearly for the next week.
Just as he settled on a station, Stiles exited the bathroom, his open jeans hiked up nearly to his chest, where he held them in place, his strides long and awkward.
“Derek,” he greeted, looking down at his pants while walking over to the couch.
Derek set the remote control aside and leaned forward, fully expecting to be asked to help button up the kid’s pants.
Instead, Stiles came to a stop several feet away and leaned forward, pushing his pants down to his ankles. “Derek, look at my underwear.”
Derek pulled a face, his gaze flickering to the TV to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important. He had no interest in pretending to be fascinated with Power Rangers or Sesame Street or The Incredible—
“Those are stripes,” he stated dumbly.
Stiles nodded, his arms akimbo and eyes wide with all the common sense a three year old could hold. “Yeah.”
“Rainbow stripes.” Derek had no idea why he was still staring. “Why do you have rainbow striped underwear?” He wasn’t even aware such a thing existed for little boys. “That’s not boy’s underwear.”
Sure enough, the longer he inspected it, the more sure of his statement Derek became. The elastic lining was too thin, the fabric looked softer, and it was missing the tell-tale slit that all male undergarments came with.
Stiles shrugged and nodded like it was no big deal, despite it clearly being the opposite since he felt the need to show it off. “My mommy has rainbow underwear and I wanted some, too. So,” he shrugged again and looked down at himself, “she got me some.”
Derek’s eyebrows shot up at the admission, fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to look at Mrs. Stilinski at all now that he knew she went parading around in her underwear in front of her son. And bought him panties.
“What are you watching?” Stiles’ attention turned to the television. “Are you watching sports? My daddy likes sports. He likes baseball and basketball and hockey, but mom won’t let him watch hockey because all they do is beat each other up. Do you like to beat people up?”
Fumbling for the remote, Derek flipped from the hockey game to college basketball. “Nope. Baseball is my favorite. Because…there’s teamwork. Why are you taking your pants off? I don’t want to see your underwear anymore.”
“Because that’s what men do when the women are gone,” Stiles explained matter-of-factly as he climbed up onto the couch next to the teen. “They sit around all day in their underwear and watch sports and drink beer. It's how they show each other they love each other. Do you have any beer?”
Derek snorted. “No.”
“Liar.” He blinked at the conviction in Stiles’ voice. “Laura said you got in trouble for drinking beer ‘cause it’s a growed-up drink and you’re not a growed-up yet.”
“Oh yeah? If that’s the case, what makes you think I’d even give you any?” Derek asked, not appreciating the fact that his sister didn’t see the harm in gossiping with loud-mouthed children. Did she conveniently forget that Stiles’ dad was essentially the boss of all the cops in town?
Sliding back off the couch, Stiles retrieved his cup of juice from the coffee table. “Because sharing is caring,” he said simply before taking a long sip.
Scowling, Derek focused back at the TV. “The rules are there for a reason, you know.”
“To keep us safe,” Stiles agreed, nodding. “But you look pretty safe to me.”
Derek groaned, wishing he had his phone so he could text Laura or open up Angry Birds to distract Stiles with.
“I’m never doing anything stupid to get grounded ever again,” he announced.
“Why not?” Stiles asked, sounding far too intrigued.
“Because I don’t want to get stuck at home to deal with you when Laura babysits.”
Stiles frowned, slowly working out the meaning of the words. “That’s not very nice,” he said at last. He turned to face the TV and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Put on Spongebob. I don’t want to be a man with you anymore.”
Derek did as told without arguing. “If that’s the case, you should put your pants back on.”
“Nope.” Stiles’ sippy cup hovered in front of his mouth. “I still want you to see my underwear.”
Gritting his teeth, Derek reminded himself he had thirty bucks riding on this and focused on watching the stupid cartoon, mentally willing his sister to hurry up.