I really shouldn't be starting another story. I have 4 ongoing stories on fanfiction and 2 on here... if anyone reads Don't Know What you Have Until it's Gone then I promise an update will be soon.

Anyway, I really wanted to write little Stiles so... here we go.


Peter trudged through the woods, looking around half-heartedly for Stiles Stilinski. He didn't know why they were all running around because of Derek's mistake. He was the one who basically told Stiles he was useless and not a member of the pack. Even Peter knew it was untrue. Stiles, although hating to admit it, was a member of the pack, Peter didn't hate the human's scent and he knew Derek definitely didn't hate it. He was also a valuable member of the pack. Questioning his role would be like questioning Scott and Lydia's roles, it was pointless. He was a valued pack member, no question about it.

Peter knew Derek was under stress what with a supposed witch lurking around but he shouldn't make such untrue statements without at least consulting everyone.

So now, Peter was out looking for that little shit because, since walking from the pack meeting the morning before, he hadn't been seen. That included skipping two days of school.

Peter huffed as he kicked up a patch of leaves. He was starting to get annoyed with Stiles now too, why the kid had to have such sensitive emotions was beyond him.

Peter paused at the sound of tussling several meters away. His sensitively tuned ears strained at the sound of leaves under what was likely bare feet. The tree was too light to be Stiles but Peter was bored. He turned and slowly walked in the direction of the sound. He crouched behind a tree, pressing his back to it and listening carefully.

He also heard a soft humming. It was higher in pitch and Peter frowned as the sound grew louder. Just when the sound seemed to be on top of him Peter straightened up and sauntered around the tree. The sight that befell him was not what he'd been expecting.

A very small child was stood there, it had jumped a little at the tall figure stepping out from behind the tree but it looked up curiously.

"Hi," it said, from the petit face and short tufts of hair sticking out from under the much top big red hoodie it was wearing, Peter assumed it was a boy. Although, he decided to mess with the kid a little.

"What's a nice little girl like you doing out here?" he said with his beguiling grin.

The small boy stepped back, folding his arms and looking rather affronted. "I'm not a girl, mister," he said incredulously. He tried to make a more masculine stance and Peter smirked at the emasculating show from such a small kid. "I'm a big boy."

"Oh really?"

The boy nodded firmly, nearly knocking the big hood from his head.

"What are you doing out here? You know it's dangerous right?" Peter feigned a scared expression and glanced around for the boy's parents. The boy also looked around, his own eyes a little more anxious than they'd been before.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I woke up and this lady, she was a meanie, she taked me here and then she was gone."

Peter frowned. "She vanished?"

"Yea, like magic, poof!" The boy made grabby hands mimicking a 'poof.' He then looked down at his bare feet and twisted the ball of his left foot into the mud. "Now I'm all alone."

"I see that."

"Why are you here, mister?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "I'm an adult, I go where I please."

"Oh. That's cool. I'm a big boy so I can do what I wants," said the boy with a determined little nod.

"Somehow I doubt that very much," muttered Peter. He glanced behind the boy and still seeing no one he rolled his eyes and looked down at the boy.

"And how old are you?" Peter said, leaning down and smiling at the small child in a manner too sickly sweet to be sincere, not that the kid knew any better.

The boy paused, his eyelids squinting in thought and he raised a hand, plucking up three fingers in an analytical way.

Peter watched with one eyebrow raised. "Three?"

The kid frowned and raised his pinky.

"Four?"

He nodded, looking up at Peter with a proud grin. "Yep, I'm four!"

"Could've just said that," Peter muttered gruffly before plastering his face with a false smile.

"Hmm, I see," he said, loud enough for the child to hear this time. He straightened back up, his hands behind his back. He glanced at the half-clothed child, his red hoodie sleeves rolled up to reveal little hands and chubby arms. Peter brushed his hand over the hood, revealing tussled brown hair, little stuck-up ears and a face speckled with a few freckles and moles. "And where did you actually come from? I'm not sure I know the nudist colony you crawled out of."

The boy frowned thoughtfully. "What's a n...nudey?" he asked.

Peter smirked. "Nudist, and its humans like you who like to run around naked... without clothes."

The boy looked down at his oversized hoodie.

"I have clothes," he protested.

"Clearly not your own clothes, little red. Now, what's your name?"

The boy stopped frowning at his hoodie and raised his head to look at Peter critically. He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at Peter. "My daddy says not to trust strangers, and you're pretty strange, mister."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Charming. Well, I don't trust your father."

"You should," the boy said, putting his arms on his hip like a sassy model, draped in odd garments. "H-he's deputy sheriff, ya know."

Peter frowned, bending down to look at the boy who took a step back. Parish was deputy... he couldn't have a son... could he?

"What's your name, kid?"

The boy pouted. "What's yours?"

"Peter. And I asked first."

The boy looked surprised by that answer. "Oh... okay... I-I'm Stiles."

"Wait... what?"


Next chapter is written and will be with you soon.