Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1584821.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Minor_or_Background_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Erica_Reyes, Vernon_Boyd, Lydia_Martin,
      Jackson_Whittemore, Isaac_Lahey, Danny_Mahealani, Allison_Argent, Scott
      McCall, Kira_Yukimura, Peter_Hale, Cora_Hale, Chris_Argent, Sheriff
      Stilinski, Noshiko_Yukimura, Bobby_Finstock, Jordan_Parrish, Original
      Characters, Melissa_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Nogitsune, Everybody_Lives, Alpha_Derek_Hale, Derek_is_a_Good_Alpha,
      Beta_Scott_McCall, Magical_Stiles_Stilinski, Werewolf_Danny_Mahealani,
      Lydia_Martin_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Past_Relationship(s), Consent
      Issues, Sheriff_Stilinski's_Name_is_John, Self-Esteem_Issues, Angst,
      Kidnapping, Slow_Build_Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Hurt_Stiles,
      Protective_Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Derek_Uses_His_Words, Love_Confessions,
      Fluff, BAMF_Stiles, Top_Derek_Hale/Bottom_Stiles_Stilinski, First_Time,
      Oral_Sex, Come_Swapping, Knotting, Mating, Making_Love, Rimming,
      Felching, Shower_Sex, Orgasm_Denial, Rebuilding_the_Hale_House, Pack
      Mother_Stiles_Stilinski, Scent_Marking, Body_Worship, Dom/sub_Undertones,
      Armpit_Kink, Cock_Worship, Rough_Sex, Begging, Shifted_Sex, Happy_Ending
  Series:
      Part 1 of Smouldering_Hearts
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-08 Completed: 2015-08-20 Chapters: 25/25 Words: 184201
****** Burn Me 'til There's Nothing Left ******
by halcyon1993
Summary
     Two months after the Nogitsune's defeat, Stiles is having trouble
     coming to terms with what he did while under its influence. When
     Derek's birthday rolls around, the pack plan a surprise party for
     their alpha, also hoping that the celebration will help raise Stiles'
     spirits. During the festivities, secret looks of longing shared
     between the two catch Erica's attention, and she bands together with
     Allison and Lydia and plots to get them to admit their feelings for
     each other. The plans quickly go awry, however, when a new antagonist
     appears in Beacon Hills with connections to Derek's past and Stiles
     finds that the Nogitsune left him with more than just guilt.
Notes
     This is basically a season 4 AU with a few things changed — Scott is
     still a beta and Derek an alpha; everybody in the pack is still alive
     and no one left; Kate really died back in season 1; Malia never
     existed; and Danny has been brought into the pack. Other plot points
     from previous seasons are still the same, more or less. It starts off
     quite lighthearted but gets more intense as the story progresses.
     I'm acting as my own beta, so any mistakes are my own.
***** Beginnings *****
- Sunday, January 8th, 2012 -
"Shh, be quiet!" Erica hisses to the rest of the pack. "I can hear him coming!"
As the sun descends in the sky outside, everyone hunkers down to hide in
Derek's loft, ready to surprise him with a birthday party. They all hold their
breath as heavy footfalls come from the other side of the entrance.
After a short pause, the heavy metal door slides open and Derek enters the
space, amusement clear in his hazel eyes. "You realise I could smell you were
all here as soon as I got out of my car, right?" the alpha points out, closing
the door behind himself. Turning around, he struggles to suppress a smile when
he is immediately met with Erica's pouting face and the sight of the rest of
his pack emerging from their hiding places.
"You ruined the surprise! Lydia and I worked really hard on this!" Erica
whines. She falls back onto one of the sofas, a relatively new addition to the
loft.
It had been a fight to get Derek's home to at least resemble a place in which
someone lived. At first, Derek had vehemently rebuffed any suggestions of
redecoration, even when Erica kept pouting at him—he was content to leave
things as they were because it seemed to have been working for him so far. Once
the blonde got Lydia invested in the project, however, the two girls sank their
teeth into it and refused to let go. They came up with a series of well-
thought-out arguments that Derek had serious trouble refuting and—when he tried
anyway—he found himself powerless against Lydia's tyranny. He reluctantly took
a step back and just let the banshee have her way.
When he saw the finished product, Derek found it difficult to pick his jaw up
off the floor.
At Scott's insistence, a large flatscreen television is now installed in the
centre of one of the red brick walls, accompanied by a high-end blu-ray player
and a surround-sound speaker system. Three long sofas sit in the middle of the
main space, creating a U shape that points to the television. Each one is
coloured a midnight-blue and comes complete with what Derek had grudgingly
admitted were insanely comfy cushions. In the centre of the sofas is a simple
black coffee table, just big enough to hold everyone's drinks and snacks on
pack nights.
His bed was moved upstairs, a laborious task, and Derek's frustrations with
getting the mattress up the spiral staircase were exacerbated when Scott kept
yelling, "Pivot! Pivot!" the entire time. The beta had told him to educate
himself when he claimed not to get the reference.
The desk that stands in front of the loft's floor-to-ceiling windows is the
only thing that remained unchanged.
"Oh well, secret's out now. So, what do you think?" Erica enquires, gesturing
with her hands to the various decorations hung up everywhere.
The loft has undergone another, albeit less subtle, metamorphosis while Derek
was out, transforming from plain brick walls into an explosion of colour.
Several custom banners hang in a row along the walls, with the text HAPPY 25th
BIRTHDAY DEREK! written in red cursive along a glittery silver background.
Groups of helium-filled balloons are placed all around the floor, each set
featuring a different combination of colours. All are weighted down with their
strings tied to loose bricks.
Derek eyes the decorations with a frown. He steps up to the coffee table and
looks down at Erica, his expression unchanging.
"Don't you like it?" Erica asks, her eyes widening with worry.
Derek rolls his eyes and expels a puff of air through his nose. "No, it's
fine," he says. "I'm just confused as to how you found out that today is my
birthday, is all."
Danny raises his hand, his other arm thrown casually around Isaac's shoulders.
"Stiles came to me a while back and told me he asked you when it was, but you
wouldn't tell him," he explains. "So...I looked into it for him, and let's just
say there's no limit to the information you can get your hands on if you have
the necessary hacking skills." He winks before moving himself and Isaac to sit
down with the rest of the pack, who have spread themselves out across the
sofas. Jackson is the only one who isn't present, but Derek can hear him doing
something in the kitchen.
Stiles lingers awkwardly where he stands. Derek raises an eyebrow in his
direction and the corner of his mouth quirks upward infinitesimally, but before
he can do anything else Stiles breaks their eye contact and moves to sit
gingerly on the armrest next to Scott, who is squished together with Allison
and Kira.
The relationship that has recently grown between the beta, the hunter and the
kitsune still baffles Derek. Thanks to gossip he had overheard without meaning
to, he'd suspected that Scott and Kira would become an item but was sure that
Allison would break off and get together with Isaac.
That assumption was quickly proven wrong when Danny was brought into the pack
at Jackson's insistence. Isaac and the Hawaiian teen almost immediately formed
a connection, and Derek has to admit that they work much better than he thought
Isaac and Allison would. After Danny asked for the bite and cemented his place
within the pack, Allison was left to go back to Scott and Kira. The three have
been nearly inseparable ever since.
Out of everyone in the pack, himself, Stiles and Cora are the only ones who
remain single. He doesn't think Peter counts.
Derek facetiously narrows his eyes at Danny. "Thanks, I guess."
Lydia claps her hands twice to get everyone's attention. "Alright, let's get
this party started!" She gets up, walks to the stereo system she had brought
from her house and turns it on so that obnoxious pop music fills the loft.
"We've got pizza to start with."
Jackson emerges from the kitchen then, carrying several huge pizza boxes. He
sets these down on the coffee table and hastily makes his retreat as the rest
of the pack descends on the food.
The boxes are empty in a matter of seconds.
Derek raises his eyebrows at his pack's enthusiasm. He doesn't know why it
still surprises him that they are this ravenous; he's seen them eat often
enough that it shouldn't. He would usually lecture them about behaving more
maturely than that, lest Stiles subject them to more jokes about being a pack
of wild dogs, but lately he has found he doesn't need to.
He looks over at Stiles, who still sits stiffly on the armrest, and frowns.
Ever since they got rid of the Nogitsune, it saddens him that Stiles seems to
be even more awkward and unsure of himself than he used to be, essentially
destroying the easy banter they had shared before everything happened. Their
occasional conversations now are all stilted with nerves as Stiles fumbles over
all of his words.
Scott also notices that Stiles hasn't moved to get some food. The crooked-jawed
boy emerges from the group with several meat feast pizza slices balanced in his
hands. "Here you go!" he says cheerfully, giving one of them to Stiles.
"Thanks," Stiles replies quietly, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse. He
takes a small bite as his eyes scan the room, taking in the sight of everyone
laughing with each other. He looks so out of place.
Derek remembers the human teen explaining it to him once, after he was the only
one around to help Stiles through a panic attack. Ever since he was saved,
Stiles has felt a hollowness that keeps him isolated from his friends. He feels
incredibly guilty for what the Nogitsune did while in his body, and despite
everyone's vehement assurances that there was nothing he could have done, he
still blames himself. Derek can understand. For years he carried the weight of
the fire that killed most of his family on his shoulders, even though Laura
never blamed him.
Several minutes later, once all the pizza is gone, Erica leans over the back of
her sofa and reemerges with a large white box. "Time for cake!" she exclaims.
She kicks Boyd in the shin to get him to clear the empty pizza boxes off of the
coffee table, making room for her to set the white one down in their place.
Flipping open the lid, Erica reveals a substantial cake covered in pale blue
frosting. The same words from the many banners on the walls hover in loopy pink
italics above a little black wolf snoozing on a bed of grass.
Erica presents Derek with a knife, which she seemingly pulls from nowhere.
"Come on, birthday boy. You do the honours!"
Derek stares at Erica, shocked, before accepting the knife. As he starts
cutting the cake into twelve equal pieces, he hears the sound of photos being
taken and looks up to find both Lydia and Erica with their phones out. Danny
also has a professional-looking camera in his hands. Derek smiles grudgingly
for a photo or two—it's probably more of a grimace—and then concentrates on
carefully sliding each piece of cake onto the paper plates that Allison gives
him.
Like with the pizza, most of the pack swoops in and grabs a piece each when
Derek is done. Derek is left with two pieces balanced on his palms. Looking
around his pack, he comes to a stop on Stiles, who still sits next to Scott
without any cake. He shoves one of the pieces under Stiles' nose, prompting the
younger boy to look up in surprise.
Seeing Derek standing steadfast in front of him, his ears turning pink, Stiles
blinks dumbly and timidly accepts the cake. He smiles shyly when he notices
that Derek has given him the piece with the little icing wolf.
"OK, everybody dig in!" Lydia exclaims after she hands out forks. She tuts
disapprovingly when several members of the pack toss their utensils aside and
just eat with their hands like savages. Cutting a small piece of her own cake,
Lydia puts it delicately in her mouth. Her eyes widen as she chews. "Oh wow,
Erica, this is so good!" she compliments, forgetting in her amazement that her
mouth is still half full. She swallows before speaking again. "Where did you
get it?"
Erica smiles at the praise. "My aunt owns a bakery, so I got her to make it for
me," she replies. She smirks when Derek sits down next to her, directly across
from Stiles.
The conversation stops there, the only sounds being the occasional moan of
ecstasy escaping from Jackson and Scott.
When they eventually finish eating, Erica announces enthusiastically that it's
time for the presents to be handed out. Her body practically vibrates with
excitement. She demands to go first and gives Derek a square box, which is
wrapped in lurid pink paper.
Rolling his eyes at the off-putting colour, Derek tears off the offending paper
and opens the top of the box. He huffs exasperatedly when he sees the stuffed
toy wolf inside. "Really?" He holds the wolf up for the rest of the pack to
see. Jackson, Danny and Scott all burst out laughing at the look of incredulity
on his face.
"What? I thought it was cute," Erica defends. She snatches the stuffed animal
from Derek's grasp and races up the stairs into his bedroom before he can
object. "There," she calls from upstairs a few seconds later, "that looks
perfect!"
Derek doesn't even bother to protest whatever the blonde has just done. He
knows how stubborn Erica is when she sets her mind on something, especially if
it annoys him. He simply gives her a withering look when she sits back down
beside him, earning himself an evil smirk in return. He looks over the rest of
the pack, raising an eyebrow and silently asking for the next person to present
their gift to him so he can escape the hell he's in as soon as possible.
"I've never known someone who can say so much just by quirking one eyebrow..."
Lydia murmurs amazedly as she leans across the table to give Derek her gift.
This one is wrapped immaculately in orange-and-yellow striped paper.
Derek opens it and thinks for a second that the box is empty, but then he
notices a slip of fancy-looking paper lying at the bottom.
"It's a gift certificate so you can finally get that shoddy kitchen of yours
refurbished," Lydia explains. She looks in the direction of said room with
disdain. "It really needs it..."
"Uh, thanks," Derek accepts simply, not knowing what else to say. He sets the
box on the coffee table and asks for the next gift.
The rest of the pack go one by one and, soon enough, the table is piled high
with them all. Most of them run along the same vein as Lydia's gift, which
Derek suspects is not a coincidence. He gets a new silver toaster from Jackson;
a deep forest-green apron and a pair of oven gloves from Isaac and Danny; a
coffee pot from Cora; a new set of silver cutlery from Allison, Scott and Kira,
on the ends of which little wolves are embossed. Boyd is the only one whose
gift is different, the laconic beta gifting Derek a set of tools he can use to
tune up his Camaro.
Eventually, Derek has opened everyone's presents but Stiles'. They all look
expectantly at the silent teen.
"Here," Stiles says nervously, moving to give Derek a flat jewellery box
covered in black velvet before settling back on the armrest of his sofa.
Derek stares at him for a moment before realising that his lingering gaze is
making Stiles self-conscious. He flips open the box and marvels at what is held
within.
"What is it?" Erica asks impatiently, leaning sideways and attempting to catch
a glimpse of the box's contents over Derek's shoulder. She harrumphs when Derek
shoves her away.
"It's a necklace," Derek replies when he finds his voice again. He lifts a thin
chain from the box's light-grey lining. Hanging from the gold links is a small
flat pendant in the shape of three joined spirals, a symbol he recognises
immediately. "A triskelion," he breathes, in awe as he lays the necklace across
his palm. He meets Stiles' eyes again.
Stiles coughs awkwardly when he finds everyone's attention still focused on
him. "Well, I know you have it tattooed on your back, so it obviously means a
lot to you, so..." He stares down at the floor between his feet. "It's OK if
you don't like it; I can get you something else if you want. I don't mind."
Derek sits motionless, amazed. He looks back down at the necklace in his hand
and traces the spiral design with his fingers. "No, it's great. Thank you," he
says earnestly.
Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief. He raises his head again to find
everybody's eyes darting back and forth between he and Derek as if they are
watching a game of tennis. "What?" he asks worriedly.
"Oh, nothing," Lydia says coyly.
Soon enough, everyone breaks off into smaller groups, chatting amiably with
each other. Derek lets everyone's conversations fade out into a comforting
white noise.
When Scott gets up and heads off into the kitchen with Allison and Kira, Stiles
slides sideways so that he's now sitting on one of the cushions. Derek is
covertly observing the teen when he hears Kira mention Stiles' name from the
kitchen. He immediately focuses on the conversation happening in there.
"How is Stiles doing? He didn't eat very much," Kira asks, concern evident in
her voice. Derek hears Scott sigh frustratedly.
"He's...he's OK, I think," Scott says, sounding unsure of his own words. "I
don't really know. He's started talking a little more lately, so that's good."
Allison and Kira both make pleased noises. "So long as everyone keeps trying to
keep his spirits up, then his improvement should carry on as it is. I think
Lydia is a big help. Those two have become pretty damn close. Stiles just does
whatever she says." He laughs quietly along with the other two. "I think it has
to do with Stiles' leftover feelings for her."
Derek feels jealousy stirring in his gut at the reminder of Stiles' old
affections for the fiery redhead, but he cuts it off before it can take root.
"Plus, no one says 'no' to Lydia," Scott finishes.
Derek finds himself nodding along to that last part. He knows from experience
just how terrifying Lydia can be whenever things don't go the way she wants.
His refurbished loft is the most recent example.
"We should try to get him to eat more," Allison says. "He looks like he's still
losing weight."
At this, Derek scans his eyes over Stiles' body and finds that Allison's words
are true. He spies a paper plate sat near Stiles' feet, which has most of the
cake he'd served earlier still on it, uneaten. He frowns, tunes out of the
conversation in the kitchen and instead sticks to watching Stiles. He keeps his
ogling as surreptitious as possible so that the teen doesn't become even more
uncomfortable.
Scott, Kira and Allison come out of the kitchen soon after that and rejoin the
rest of the pack with trays of drinks in their hands. Derek is caught off-guard
when the scents of alcohol and wolfsbane hit his nose. He stops Lydia in her
tracks when she goes to drag Stiles up from the sofa opposite his.
"Where did you get all that?" Derek asks, pointing to the two cups in her
hands.
Lydia smirks. "I made Jackson and Danny buy it with their fake IDs, of course,"
she explains, looking very pleased with herself. "And I got the wolfsbane from
Deaton so the wolves can get drunk, too."
Giggling at Derek's shocked expression, Lydia turns away from him and shoves
one of the cups in Stiles' face, startling him. "Drink up," she instructs.
When the last of his beverage is gone, Stiles squeezes the cup onto the edge of
the coffee table and reluctantly allows Lydia to pull him to his feet.
"Right then!" Lydia yells, loudly clapping her hands again. "Let's move all
this out of the way so we can really get this party going."
She waves her hands at the sofas and coffee table and observes silently as the
wolves shift everything to rest against the walls. Derek resolutely refuses to
help. The betas take extra care with the table so as not to disrupt everything
that's piled precariously atop its surface.
Nodding in satisfaction when it's all done, Lydia turns up the dial on the
stereo system until the music is almost deafening and can be felt through the
floor.
Eventually, Derek is left shaking his head in disbelief when everybody starts
dancing. Boyd stands still as a statue while Erica grinds and thrusts against
him, and Lydia and Allison manage to drag Stiles out onto the floor. The two
girls box him in and force him to match their movements awkwardly. Stiles' face
ends up becoming so red that Derek actually worries for his health.
It all carries on for what feels like hours until, eventually, things wind down
and everybody starts gathering their things. Derek is immensely grateful when
Lydia shuts off the music and Jackson carries the stereo system down to her
car. The furniture is all moved back into place and the empty pizza and cake
boxes and cups of alcohol are disposed of.
By the end of it, the place still stinks of take-out food and booze, but Derek
contents himself with the knowledge that the scents will soon fade now that
their sources are gone.
One by one, the pack say their goodbyes as they head home.
Stiles is the last to leave, scratching the back of his neck nervously when
Derek smiles and returns his meek farewell.
After moving all of the presents from the coffee table and into the kitchen to
sort through the next day, Derek heads upstairs to his bedroom, carrying the
jewellery box Stiles gave him earlier in his right hand. He grabs a change of
underwear from the top drawer of his dresser before going into the bathroom to
get ready to turn in for the night.
When he has finished brushing his teeth, he stands beside his bed in his black
boxer-briefs and looks again at the necklace Stiles had gifted him. He smiles
and puts it carefully around his neck before moving Erica's toy wolf off of his
pillow, settling down and closing his eyes.
***** Intrigue *****
- Monday, January 9th, 2012 -
School the following day is for the most part uneventful. When the lunch bell
rings, all of the students filter out into the hallways and head toward the
cafeteria.
Erica saunters over to the pack's usual table—her footsteps echoing loudly
because of her heels—and takes a seat next to Boyd, waiting for the rest of the
group to show up. She slams her tray down next to his and grins wickedly when
he shoots her an annoyed glare. Lydia appears next, placing her own tray of
healthy and meticulously organised food in front of herself and immediately
starting to eat. Everyone else arrives soon after that. Scott, Kira and Allison
appear last, filling the final three chairs.
The conversation flows easily, everybody talking in smaller groups like usual.
Soon, Scott and Stiles get into a heated debate about whether Batman could win
in a fight against Superman. It's an argument they've had countless times—it
always ends with the same conclusion—but that never seems to stop the two from
rehashing it.
During a lull in her conversation with Lydia, Erica pulls out her phone and,
out of boredom, starts scrolling through the pictures she took the previous
evening at Derek's party. Grabbing the occasional handful of potato chips from
the open bag that rests on Boyd's lunch tray, she deletes all of the shots she
deems too bad to go on her Facebook wall and starts looking through the
photographs she kept with a more critical eye. The first is a picture of Derek
when he first opened the door to his loft, revealing the smirk he'd been
wearing before he could school his stoic mask back in place. Next is a series
of photographs of Derek cutting the cake and everybody snatching their pieces
before anyone else can claim them. The last photograph in that sequence catches
her eye: it shows Derek turning away after giving Stiles the last piece of
cake. Stiles is shooting Derek a wistful look as the alpha walks back to his
seat.
Erica's fingers hover over the screen, contemplating the implications of
Stiles' expression. Hastily, she scrolls through the remaining photos, on the
hunt for any similar looks that might have been exchanged. In the end, she
finds several more from both Derek and Stiles. Intrigued, she files this
information away to bring up at a later time, when Stiles isn't around to
overhear the discussion. Her scheming is interrupted when Jackson slams his
fist down on the table, causing everyone sat around it to jump in surprise.
"For the love of God, guys! Either shut up or take this stupid argument
somewhere else!" Jackson exclaims, glaring at Scott and Stiles, silently daring
them to contradict him. "It's infuriating..."
A hush falls over the rest of the students in the room and furtive glances are
shot toward the pack's table, some more subtle than others.
Lydia shoots daggers at her boyfriend with her eyes. While the two boys' heated
debate had been mildly annoying her, those negative feelings were overshadowed
substantially by the relief she felt at Stiles actually saying more than two
words at a time for once. Looking around the table, she can see that her
thoughts seem to be shared by several other members of the pack.
Stiles lowers his hands from where he had been flailing them in the air in the
heat of the moment and looks sheepishly over at Scott. "Uh, yeah, I guess we
can just agree to disagree on this one... Sorry, Jackson," he apologises
meekly, shrinking down in his chair when he notices that the majority of the
cafeteria is still staring in his direction.
Scott nods along quickly, clearly trying to avoid making any more of a scene.
Both Allison and Kira pat his shoulders consolingly. The hum of conversation
slowly resumes around them once everyone else sees that nothing exciting is
happening.
Stiles catches Erica looking at him intently before he lowers his gaze back
down to the table.
"So, what's the plan for tonight, guys?" Danny asks, taking a sip of water from
the bottle in front of himself. He sits next to Lydia and is currently leaning
back against Isaac, who is sat on his other side. The curly-haired beta has one
arm wrapped around the Hawaiian teen, largely enjoying the heat seeping from
the other's body into his own.
"Well, Kira and I were planning on going 'round Scott's after school to, uh,
hang out for a bit," Allison mumbles, a blush creeping over her cheeks. The
rest of the pack snigger, every one of them very much aware of what the three
will really be doing later. "Oh, shut up! Like you don't all jump each other
the first chance you get!" She rolls her eyes when the laughter only
intensifies. Even Kira can't help but join in, which in turn sets Scott off. By
the end, Allison fails at holding back the smile that was threatening to appear
on her face.
"We don't, actually. Some of us like to conduct ourselves in a more dignified
manner," Lydia interjects haughtily, her nose turned up. Jackson looks
thoroughly unimpressed at this, only brightening again when Danny playfully
throws a carrot stick in his direction. Lydia continues to eat her lunch,
unfazed, slowly and diligently picking away at it with unnecessarily small
bites.
Stiles remains silent during this part of the discussion, fidgeting in his
chair while his cheeks turn redder than usual. His eyes remain trained on his
food.
Danny turns to Isaac. "What about you? Want to hang out 'round mine later?" he
asks, scratching his short nails through the hair at the base of the other
teen's neck.
Isaac nods enthusiastically, his blond curls bouncing. "Yeah!" he accepts
excitedly, his tone jubilant as he shares a private smile with his boyfriend.
Stiles looks up again at this, a small smile on his own face. He's harboured a
great deal of affection for the taller teen ever since Isaac had moved into
Scott's house and they'd ended up being around each other a lot more. The beta
was quick to lose the arrogant attitude he'd taken on after he was turned,
calming down into something far more pleasant and a little childlike. Both of
them are familiar with losing loved ones, Stiles his mother and Isaac his
entire family. Scott is still like a brother to him—and he knows that Scott is
always there should he want to talk—but it's nice to have another perspective,
particularly one that comes from somebody who has gone through a similar
experience.
When everyone starts branching off into their own groups again, Erica glances
between Allison and Lydia. "Come on, I have something I want to show you," she
whispers, standing and gesturing for the other two girls to follow before they
can get invested in talking to the others once more.
Both girls give each other looks of confusion before following the blonde out
of the room.
Erica leads them into the closest bathroom. She glares when she finds another
girl is already there, fixing her makeup in one of the mirrors that line the
wall above the sinks. "Out!" she commands, pointing a finger at the door. The
strange girl startles and hastens to do so, knowing from her reputation that
Erica can get quite violent when displeased. Once the three friends are the
only people in the room, Erica locks the door and turns to the other two. "So,
something very interesting has just come to my attention..." she begins, a
smirk forming on her lips as she pulls out her phone and goes into the Photos
app. She slides through several old pictures before getting to the ones she
wants to show off.
"What is it?" Allison asks, cocking her head to the side in the puppy-like
fashion she has picked up from hanging around Scott too much.
Lydia picks at her nails disinterestedly. She frowns when she notices her
orange nail polish beginning to chip away.
Erica hands her phone over to Allison and instructs her to flip through the
pictures. "Well, while I was looking at the photos I took at Derek's last
night, I couldn't help but notice that there were some looks being given
between Stiles and Derek. Some very strong looks of the I-secretly-want-you
variety."
"What?!" Allison exclaims disbelievingly, her eyebrows shooting up to her
hairline. She flicks a finger across the screen in her hand with intense focus,
looking out for any photos that feature the two boys in question and sliding
past the ones that don't have either in frame. In each new photo, she sees
Derek looking at Stiles with intense longing evident in his eyes, the alpha
obviously thinking that no one was watching him in the moments the photos were
taken and thus allowing his defences to briefly come down. Stiles returns the
looks in the photos where Derek's attention is focused elsewhere, though
resignation mars his otherwise affectionate expression.
Lydia remains silent throughout Allison's perusal, causing both Allison and
Erica to look at her expectantly. When she notices that the room's attention
has fallen on her, she sighs heavily before speaking. "What? I've known about
those two for weeks," she says dismissively, her face as exasperated as her
tone. "Honestly, I'd swear everyone in this pack is blind..."
"Are you serious? Why didn't you say anything before now?!" Allison demands,
her eyes wide and uncomprehending.
Erica looks at Lydia suspiciously.
"I didn't think it was any of my business," Lydia replies, continuing to fiddle
with her nails. She thinks she could really do with another manicure.
Allison looks baffled. "Lydia, you think everything is your business!" she
screeches, prompting Erica to wince and cover her sensitive ears at the volume
of her voice. "Oops. Sorry, Erica."
"It's fine..." Erica says simply, lowering her hands again. "Regardless, it's
her business now." She knows the banshee will no doubt want to take part in
what she has planned. "Those two are never going to do anything about their
feelings without outside interference, which is where we come in. We need to
get them together somehow."
"Manipulation. I like it," Lydia smirks, returning Erica's high five when the
blonde raises her palm in invitation. "Alright, I'm in. Allison?"
"Sure. I mean, Derek's seemed a lot less...hostile, lately, and I'm sure that
learning his feelings are reciprocated would help Stiles a great deal with
whatever it is he's been going through," Allison theorises, nodding to herself.
"It's settled then," Erica dictates, just as the bell rings. "Let's meet at my
house after school so we can make a proper plan."
The three girls leave the bathroom and head off to their respective classes,
meeting up with the other members of the pack in the halls on the way.
                                     * * *
Stiles sits next to Scott in their Chemistry class, his head resting on his
hand and his elbow resting on the table. The only other members of the pack in
room are Scott, Danny and Jackson. His notebook lays open in front of him, the
blank, white paper mocking him. Normally, he would be studiously taking notes,
since the ones Scott writes always turn out to be unusable and he doesn't want
his friend to fail. Today, however, he finds himself completely unmotivated and
just stares out of the window to his left. He longs for the day to come to an
end when he spots his Jeep sitting innocuously in the car park. His reverie is
cut short when Scott nudges his shoulder and asks if anything is wrong, the
beta's voice a whisper so that their teacher doesn't catch them.
"I'm fine, dude. Just not really feeling today, is all," Stiles explains,
patting Scott on his arm a couple of times. He goes back to staring out of the
window when his friend's concerned expression doesn't change. He hears Scott
sigh in defeat and feels mildly guilty for worrying him so much, but he quickly
shoves the feeling down. His gaze leaves his Jeep and moves to scan over the
trees that run along the edge of the school's property. His heart skips a beat
when he thinks he sees someone's silhouette among the brown trunks, but a
double take reveals the spot to be empty. He snorts quietly, thinking that
either he's finally going crazy or that Derek has returned to his habit of
stalking the pack wherever they go. The latter option seems more likely, but,
seeing as this is Beacon Hills, he can't be too sure.
"Mr. Stilinski!"
Stiles nearly falls off of his stool in surprise when his name is called, or
rather, shouted. Tearing his eyes from the window, he turns nervously back in
the direction of the blackboard and sees his teacher, Ms. Adler, glaring at
him, annoyance clear on her wrinkled features. While he had managed to feel
some sympathy for Mr. Harris when he found out that Jennifer Blake had murdered
him in one of her sacrifices, he was also relieved that he wouldn't have to
endure any more of the man's obvious dislike for him. The arrival of Mr.
Harris' replacement had quickly extinguished those feelings, the woman turning
out to be just as ornery.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Stilinski, or do you simply think so highly of
yourself that my class isn't worth your precious time?" Ms. Adler asks
condescendingly.
A ripple of laughter runs through the other students in the room and Stiles
feels his face heat up and his skin begin to itch in his embarrassment. A quick
glance tells him that Scott and Danny are the only two not getting amusement
out of his being reprimanded, whereas Jackson is cackling away from where he
sits across the aisle. He feels a surge of gratitude for Danny when the
Hawaiian smacks his asshole of a best friend up the back of the head.
"No, I'm fine, thanks. Sorry," Stiles mutters, still not meeting his teacher's
stern gaze.
Ms. Adler narrows her eyes at Stiles before turning back to the rest of the
class, telling them to settle down before she continues on with her seemingly
endless lesson. Her voice drones on and on as she explains things that ninety-
nine percent of the teenagers in the room won't use ever again once they've
taken the test to which it pertains.
Stiles keeps his head down for the rest of the hour, making a show of taking as
many notes as possible after Scott frowns pointedly at his still-blank
notebook. He sighs in relief when the bell finally rings after what feels like
forever, signalling the end of the period. The room is immediately filled with
the sound of stools scraping across the floor as all of the students stand and
gather their belongings before rushing from the room. The whole time, Ms. Adler
barks out homework assignments that fall on deaf ears.
"Dude, can I borrow your Chemistry notes?" Scott asks predictably when they get
out into the hallway, shoving his own useless ones inside the main compartment
of his backpack.
Stiles rolls his eyes. "Who do you think I write them for in the first place?"
he teases, handing over his notebook and waving off Scott's words of gratitude.
He allows himself to be shepherded to their last class of the day—Economics
with Coach Finstock—and lets out a groan of frustration when he remembers that
he forgot to do the homework assignment that is due that day. Dropping down
into his seat, he kisses his afternoon goodbye, knowing the coach will most
likely give him detention for his infraction.
When everyone is settled, Finstock storms into the room and immediately starts
lecturing them all, picking on Greenberg several times throughout the class,
like usual.
When the hour is nearly up and Finstock calls for everyone to hand in their
homework, Stiles flops forward until his forehead meets his desk with a loud
smack. He stays where he is when he hears footsteps come to a stop right in
front of him.
"No homework, Bilinski?" Finstock asks, still getting the teenager's name
wrong.
At this point, Stiles thinks that the man does it deliberately just to annoy
him. "No, Coach... I kinda forgot to do it," he mumbles without lifting his
head. He braces himself for his inevitable admonition and finds himself
surprised when it doesn't come. Instead, he feels Finstock poke the back of his
head a couple of times, a silent request to lift it again. When he does so, he
is shocked to find concern on the man's face instead of the irritation he was
expecting.
Finstock sighs. "You look like crap, Bilinski," he begins, his blunt words and
harsh tone drawing the attention of the students closest to the conversation.
"What's wrong with you? You've been like this for weeks!" By the time he
finishes speaking, he's yelling. Everyone who hadn't already been listening in
has also begun to do so, having all handed their papers to the front of the
class.
The coach's words bring Stiles back to early that morning, when he'd first
gotten up after another restless night and seen himself in the mirror. Large,
dark circles had stained the skin underneath his puffy, bloodshot eyes and his
lips were badly chapped. "I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping that well
lately..." he excuses. He feels many sets of eyes on his back and purposefully
keeps his own focused on the man in front on him to avoid meeting any of his
peers' rudely curious gazes. He silently wonders why, no matter what he does,
he always seems to become the centre of unwanted attention.
Finstock shakes his head in disappointment and rubs his temples in frustration.
"It's like you want to stay on the bench..." he mutters before going back to
teaching, leaving Stiles to sit, mouth open and eyes wide, marvelling at his
lack of punishment. He thinks the man must be feeling particularly merciful
that day.
The rest of the class passes without incident until the final bell of the day
rings. Several cheers are heard throughout the whole building as everyone
begins filtering outside to their cars, stopping off at their lockers on the
way and dropping off any books they won't need that evening.
Stiles opens his own locker angrily and stuffs most of his things inside before
slamming it shut. He jumps in surprise when Scott is revealed to be standing
right next to him on the other side of the door. "Dude, way to give me a heart
attack!" he exclaims, glaring and clutching a hand to his chest dramatically.
Scott chuckles at his friend's antics. "Are you OK?" he asks worriedly. "You
seem mad."
Stiles sighs. "Yeah, I'm just getting tired of getting called on in every
single class," he explains before shaking off his bitterness. Instead, he
plasters on a reassuring smile that only feels half fake. It's an improvement;
normally, at least lately, his smiles don't feel real at all.
Scott nods sagely, his unkempt hair flopping down into his eyes. "You going to
practice today?" he asks, his face turning serious before he pulls out what
Stiles likes to call his 'Puppy-Eyes of Doom'. He hopes for a 'yes', since
practice is never as fun without Stiles there to laugh and joke around with in
between the coach's yelling. His face breaks out into a grin when his friend
nods tiredly.
"Yeah, I think I can manage it today," Stiles declares wearily, slinging his
backpack back over his shoulder and setting off in the direction of the locker
rooms with Scott. "I'm sorry I missed the last couple of times, by the way."
"It's fine, so long as you're feeling better now," Scott waves off, patting
Stiles on the back as they enter the locker room.
Everyone else is already there. Stiles hangs back when Scott goes over to join
Danny, Jackson and Isaac on the other side of the room. The rest of the team is
talking raucously as they slip out of their regular clothes and into their
lacrosse uniforms. He opens his locker and begins pulling out his gear, only to
be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turns to find Finstock looking at him
sympathetically.
"I think you should just go home, Stilinski," the coach says.
Finstock's voice is quiet in what Stiles guesses is an attempt to stop the rest
of the team from overhearing. From the corner of his eye, he sees the four
wolves' heads turn in his direction anyway, their enhanced hearing easily
allowing them to catch what's being said. The group share looks of concern
before turning back in his direction to observe further. "What? Why?!" he asks,
the loudness of his voice making Finstock's earlier efforts to keep their
conversation private even more useless. He throws his lacrosse jersey back
inside of his locker and slams the door shut.
"Like I said earlier, you look like crap. You look like you'll keel over at the
slightest gust of wind and we're not going to be able to have a good practice
if I'm constantly worrying about you," Finstock explains, his intense gaze
never leaving Stiles'. "Go home. Rest." He gives the teen's shoulder a quick
squeeze and pushes him in the direction of the exit, effectively dismissing
him, before heading back into his office.
Stiles stands there in disbelief before throwing up his hands and storming back
outside. Before he can make it more than a few steps, he hears his name being
called again and turns to find Scott and Isaac chasing after him. He stops and
waits for them to catch up. "What do you want, guys?" he asks, crossing his
arms defensively.
"We just wanted to check and see if you were OK," Isaac says, his own puppy-
eyes out in full force. "Finstock can be a real ass."
Scott nods his agreement.
Releasing a long breath before answering, Stiles try to dispel his anger with
it, knowing that the two betas in front of him have done nothing to deserve it.
"I'm fine. My dad wanted me home right after practice anyway. He'll be happy
I'm early," he says, running a hand through his hair. He freezes, suddenly
finding his arms full of werewolf when Isaac launches at him and wraps him up
in a tight hug. He stands there in shock for a few seconds before bringing his
arms around the curly-haired beta and patting him awkwardly on the back.
"Seriously, Isaac, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."
Stiles knows that both wolves heard the stutter in his heartbeat when Isaac
pulls back and both of their concerned expressions only get worse. He waves
them off before they can speak any further and turns away, continuing on his
trek out to his car. When he finally gets through the double doors of the
school's entrance, he shivers slightly when he realises just how cold it is
outside and chastises himself for not bringing a jacket with him when he left
his house that morning.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Stiles hurries down the steps. Since most
people have already left for the day, leaving the lot practically empty, he is
able to cut straight across the gravel to his Jeep on the other side. When he
gets to his car, he drops his bag onto the passenger seat before climbing in
behind the steering wheel and turning the key in the ignition. Just as he makes
to pull away, he feels an intense itch at the base of his skull. Scratching at
it, he looks around the area to see if anyone is watching him and catches a
glimpse of the same silhouette he saw earlier. It still stands amongst the
trees, but disappears suddenly before he can look any closer. He writes it off
as Derek simply checking up on everyone again, knowing that his paranoia has
increased in recent months. He doesn't want to worry himself or anybody else
more than is strictly necessary. Putting his foot down on the pedal, he finally
heads home.
                                     * * *
With Lydia following behind, Allison pulls into the driveway of Erica's house.
The two had quickly left the school after it let out, setting off in the
direction on their blonde packmate's house. Both girls are anxious to set up an
actual plan of action to deal with Stiles and Derek. Erica greets them at the
door when they knock, escorting them through to the back of the house and into
the kitchen.
"Drinks?" Erica offers, taking a selection of juices out of the fridge for them
to choose from. After they've all selected—Lydia going for grape and Allison
for apple—they head upstairs, exchanging pleasantries with Erica's parents when
they pass by the living room.
Once the door to her bedroom is closed, Erica hops onto her bed and pulls out
her journal, turning to the last entry. "Right, does anyone have any ideas
about how we can start the ball rolling?" she asks after Lydia takes a seat
next to her at the foot of the bed. She begins jotting down the day's events on
the next blank page in her untidy scrawl.
"I think we should start off simple, things like getting them alone more
often," Allison states, shrugging her bag off of her shoulder so that it falls
against Erica's bed before beginning to pace slowly back and forth across the
carpeted floor. Both Erica and Lydia watch her from their places on the
mattress. "I don't think they've had many opportunities where they can realise
how the other feels outside of life or death situations. They're obviously not
going to be thinking about that when they're about to be murdered." She brings
her thumb and forefinger to her chin in a contemplative gesture.
Lydia takes a sip of her drink. "We should lead with that and, if it seems like
it's not going to work, we'll kick it up a gear. We can drop hints about the
other person acting smitten about someone and see if jealousy will do the
trick," she says.
Erica and Allison nod along, the former writing everything down hastily at the
bottom of her current page.
"Well, alright. Should we tell the others what we're up to?" Allison asks,
wondering if their plan might be easier to pull off if they had the entire pack
to carry it out. She thinks that Cora, Isaac and Scott might end up proving to
be particularly useful, Cora because she could provide insight into Derek's
actions and Isaac and Scott because of their closeness with Stiles. From the
look on Lydia's face, she guesses the redhead may be thinking in a similar
fashion.
"We'll try it with just us three to start with. If, after a while, it seems
like the plan isn't working, then we can bring in reinforcements," Lydia
responds, downing the rest of her beverage.
Before anyone else can say anything, a loud beeping sounds throughout the room.
Allison pulls back her sleeve and peers down at her watch, hitting the little
switch on the side of the dial to shut it up. "I've got to go," she says
quickly, snatching her bag back up from the floor. "Scott's going to get out of
practice soon and I need to be at his house with Kira in ten." She bids her two
friends farewell.
"This is going to be so much fun!" Erica squeals, grinning at Lydia.
Lydia rolls her eyes in jest. "At any rate, it'll be good not having to put up
with all of Derek and Stiles' pining anymore. It was driving me mad."
***** Nightmare *****
- Friday, January 13th, 2012 -
Erica, Lydia and Allison all decide that they'll begin to implement their plan
during the next pack meeting, which will be taking place on the Friday of that
week. They wait impatiently, keeping an eye on Stiles the entire time to see if
he lets slip anything that will help them accomplish their task. They are
disappointed, however, when the boy doesn't do much of anything, choosing
instead to remain quiet during all of his classes and during lunch. This
saddens them, as it's another reminder of how much Stiles has changed recently.
It was just a few months ago that he would have been constantly talking their
ears off. They even notice that Jackson keeps sending Stiles worried looks,
which he'll hastily cover up before they can be called to anyone's attention.
When the end of the week finally comes, everyone in the pack meets in front of
the main building at the end of the school day. They all pile into their cars
in groups—Allison, Scott and Kira; Lydia and Jackson; Erica, Boyd and Cora;
Danny and Isaac; and Stiles alone in his Jeep—before heading over to Derek's
loft. The alpha greets them at the door wearing a deep frown, his arms crossed
in front of his impressive chest. After he ushers them all inside, instead of
sitting with them, he stays standing in front of the coffee table so that
everybody is facing him. The wolves immediately pick up on the tense atmosphere
of the room and all come to the conclusion that Derek must have been agonising
over whatever it is he has to tell them the entire time he was waiting for them
to arrive.
"What's with the eyebrows, Derek?" Scott asks, leaning forward to rest his arms
on his knees, a look of concern on his face. Allison and Kira sit on either
side of him.
Derek uncrosses his arms and clears his throat. "I have to warn you all now
that this meeting won't be the usual fun and games that you all seem to turn
the others into, at least not at first... There's something new in town," he
says bluntly. "I don't know whether it's supernatural or if it's even here to
cause us trouble, but you all need to be aware of it just in case." He watches
as the group exchanges worried glances, sitting up with their backs straight to
show that they are paying closer attention. He immediately feels guilty for
having to unload this news on them, effectively ruining the downtime they had
all been enjoying since they took care of the Nogitsune.
"What is it?" Allison enquires, instantly becoming alert and making a mental
note to ask her father if he has caught wind of any whispers about this
mysterious, new presence from his hunter connections.
Derek shakes his head, his disappointment with himself apparent. "I don't know
yet. I've been doing routine checks around the perimeter of our territory and I
keep picking up the same scent. I can't place it, but whatever it is, it
doesn't smell like it belongs to something friendly. I spoke to Deaton
yesterday and he was adamant that we should be on the lookout for anything
strange that might be happening. Of course, I'm sure Deaton knows more than
he's letting on, but he once again refuses to say any more on the subject..."
He purses his lips in consternation.
Stiles lifts his eyes from where he had been studiously examining his hands to
stare up at Derek, his mind shifting back to the black figure he has been
seeing around the high school in the last week. He thinks briefly about
bringing it up, but then he remembers Derek's explanation that he had been
patrolling the territory, reaffirming his first theory in his mind that the
unidentified silhouette must just be the alpha checking up on the pack.
"I want you all to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, especially the
wolves," Derek instructs sternly. "Until we know what we're dealing with, no
one lets their guard down. Go it?" He nods in satisfaction when the pack all
murmur their agreement. "Alright, now that's out of the way, does anyone have
anything else they want to talk about?"
Everyone shakes their heads and they are all at a loss about what to do before
Scott suggests that they lighten the mood by watching a movie. They all relax
back in their seats and immediately regret following Scott's lead when Lydia
demands that they watch The Notebook. Jackson rolls his eyes at his
girlfriend's predictable demand. Allison agrees with the redhead, which prompts
the rest of the pack to vehemently protest. Lydia sighs and for once lets
herself be outvoted.
Derek catches Stiles smiling into his hand and smiles back when their eyes meet
for a second.
"One of these days, I will make you all sit down and watch it! I don't care who
I have to kill..." Lydia exclaims passionately, glaring pointedly at Jackson
and Derek, who both raise their eyebrows in return.
"What did I do?" Derek asks, flabbergasted at having been singled out when he
had deliberately been staying out of the pack's discussion.
Lydia scoffs, getting up from her seat between Jackson and Danny and heading
toward the kitchen in search of some refreshments. "Don't think I didn't see
how happy you were at my being shot down!" she calls over her shoulder. "You're
lucky I still let you run things around here!"
Derek grumbles under his breath when the rest of the pack start sniggering. He
notes thankfully that Stiles doesn't join them.
When Lydia returns, the group argues for a while longer on what to watch, the
boys turning their noses up in disgust every time the girls mention anything
else sickeningly romantic. In turn, the girls are quick to veto any of the
boys' choices for anything action-themed. Eventually, they all manage to agree
to putting on Bridesmaids, with the compromise that the boys will get exclusive
rights to choose next time.
Most of them talk throughout the movie, the girls quoting the lines along with
the actors on screen and the boys—apart from Stiles and Derek—disparaging every
decision the main character makes. Halfway through, after noticing his
continued silence, Lydia glances over at Stiles and sees that he is staring
absentmindedly at Derek. She smiles knowingly, looking back at the screen
before either of them can catch her watching.
After the movie is finished, they start discussing its pros and cons, Jackson
grudgingly admitting than he actually managed to enjoy it when Lydia keeps
asking him for his opinion. Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek, not paying
attention to what is happening around him. He marvels at the unusual and
beautiful colour of the alpha's eyes. He can't put a name to it since it seems
to change constantly.
When Derek notices he's being watched, he raises an eyebrow at Stiles in a
silent question.
Stiles immediately feels uncomfortable at having been caught staring and
hastens to leave the room. "I'm gonna go use the toilet," he announces, quickly
making his way down the dimly lit hallway to the loft's only bathroom and
closing the door behind himself.
Lydia tracks Stiles' movements and instantly sees a chance to put the first
phase of her plan into action. "Alright guys, I think I'm going to head out
now," she says as she stands, pulling Jackson up with her. "Erica, Allison?"
She nods her head pointedly in the direction of the door Stiles had just
disappeared behind. Looks of recognition appear on the other girls' faces
before they, too, grab their boyfriends, Kira and Cora and make to leave,
spewing excuses about having to be home before their curfews end in their wake.
"I guess we'll go as well, then. It's been fun, Derek. Don't worry, we'll keep
a nose out for any strange scents," Danny assures the alpha, linking his arm
through Isaac's and walking toward the door.
Derek stops them before they can make it out of the room. "Wait, I thought you
were Stiles' ride?" he asks, incredulous at the possibility that they could
have forgotten about their packmate so easily.
"Nope, he drove himself," Danny explains, grinning at Derek's obvious concern
for the human teen. He waves his free hand at the alpha before dragging Isaac
out through the door with the other, sliding it closed with a satisfying thud.
Derek is left to stand alone in the living room, baffled at his pack's quick
exits. "Well, that was odd," he mutters to himself. Unsure of what to do until
Stiles emerges from the bathroom, he settles for plucking a book out from
underneath the coffee table. He opens it to the first page, intent on reading
at least a couple of chapters before he turns in for the night. He finds
himself getting gripped by the story for a while before Stiles finally comes
back into the living room.
When he comes out of the bathroom and finds that everybody else has left
already, leaving himself and Derek alone in the loft, Stiles frowns in
confusion. He and Scott were supposed to have plans to get together at the
latter's house after the meeting, so he is surprised that his friend left
without even telling him. "How long was I in there?" he asks the room, biting
his lip.
Derek looks up from his spot on the sofa. "Not that long," he says before going
back to reading his book. "The girls said they wanted to get back home before
their curfews ended and they dragged everyone else out with them." He quickly
finds his place again and allows himself to get reabsorbed into the
protagonist's adventures. If he keeps a small piece of his attention fixed on
Stiles, then no one has to know.
Stiles stands awkwardly in the hallway for a minute longer before moving to sit
gingerly on the sofa opposite Derek. He looks around the room as he tries to
find a topic of conversation to bring up in order to break what he feels is a
very uncomfortable silence, only just now noticing with disappointment that all
of the decorations he had helped Erica and Lydia put up the previous weekend
are now gone. When he fails to come up with anything to say, he goes back to
simply watching Derek like he had been earlier. The older man looks to be
engrossed in the book he's reading. Stiles can't see the spine or front cover
to find out what it's called, so he sits for several more minutes and works up
the courage to pry. "What are you reading?" he asks finally, his voice sounding
abnormally loud after such a long period of quiet.
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," Derek answers, his eyes never leaving the
open page in his lap. In the short time between picking the book up and Stiles
asking his question, Derek has managed to get up to the third chapter. He feels
a small sense of accomplishment at his fast progress.
Stiles grunts his acknowledgement. When silence settles over the room again,
his need to fill it with conversation reaches boiling point and he is unable to
stop himself from blurting out a stream of senseless words. "How is it? I mean,
I don't know much about the book, but I saw the movies, both the original
Swedish version and the English remake. I thought they were good. Have you seen
them? I would guess not, since I always want to read the book first before
seeing the movie, but, then again, maybe you prefer to do things the other way
round-" He cuts himself off when he realises he's babbling, looking at Derek
with wide eyes as if scared of being told off.
Derek stares back impassively, surprised to hear the teen say more than two or
three words at once again. The side of his mouth quirks up as he marks his
place with the bookmark that had come free with the book and sets it down on
the coffee table. "It's pretty good, but I only just started it, so that could
change. I've enjoyed what I've read so far, regardless."
"That's good," Stiles says lamely, internally cringing at his words. He wasn't
expecting to find himself alone with Derek that day. Ordinarily, he would be
able to manage just fine, especially if he had something else to focus on, but
ever since Derek started hanging around him more after the Nogitsune and he
became aware of his feelings for the older man, he has found himself acting
increasingly more awkwardly whenever they're in the same room together. With
all the guilt he still carries around from the Nogitsune, he sees himself as
even less worthy of someone as gorgeous and amazing as Derek. After all, he's
just an awkward and skinny kid. Why would the alpha ever be interested in
someone like him?
Wanting to leave before Derek can pick up on the change in his scent his sour
thoughts will no doubt have caused—he curses werewolf noses for what feels like
the thousandth time—Stiles quickly stands, tripping over his own feet in a
spectacular display of his famous lack of coordination. "Well, I'm going to go,
too. Wouldn't want to keep Scotty waiting," he excuses, moving quickly to the
door. He pauses briefly when he hears Derek bid him farewell.
He doesn't reply.
                                     * * *
After leaving Derek's loft, Stiles hops in his Jeep and allows his mind to
wander as he makes the familiar drive over to Scott's house. His talk with the
alpha has left him feeling more out of his depth than ever, unsure of what to
do with the overly concerned looks Derek had kept shooting him. The
embarrassment from his ramblings still hangs over his head and he lectures
himself to try not to let it happen again, lest he let something slip that
he'll later regret. Shoving his feelings down as far as he can, he shakes off
his negative thoughts and focuses back on the road. He looks forward to just
hanging out with his best friend, to not having to worry about anything else
but playing stupid video games and mindlessly watching movies while eating food
that's terrible for him. He pulls into the driveway next to Melissa McCall's
car, hopping out and walking straight through the front door. It's been years
since he stopped bothering to knock first.
Stiles stands in the entranceway, vacillating between just going to find Scott
himself or calling out his name. Deciding on the former, he climbs the stairs
two at a time and steps into Scott's bedroom to find the beta in the middle of
setting up one of his games consoles. His friend smiles as he enters. "So
what's first on the agenda tonight, Scotty boy?" he asks, already guessing the
answer and flopping down casually onto the bed.
Scott looks up from where he's crouching in front of his television and grins.
"I figured we could start with me kicking your ass at Mario Kart before moving
on to watching a couple of movies. I've already got a couple of pizzas on the
way; they should be here in five," he explains, glancing at the digital clock
that sits next to the lamp on his nightstand.
"Sounds good, buddy," Stiles responds, absently picking at his nails. "Is it OK
if I stay over? My dad has the night shift and I don't really feel like being
alone tonight..." The doorbell rings just as he finishes speaking.
"I don't see a problem with it," Scott says, shooting Stiles a sympathetic look
over his shoulder as he leaves the room to answer the door. Ever since the
disaster that was the Nogitsune, Stiles has been staying the night with him and
Isaac a lot more often. It reminds him in a way of when they were kids, when
they each used to beg their parents to let the other stay over practically
every day, even on school nights. They had been a massive comfort to each other
in dealing with the death of Stiles' mother and Scott's parents' divorce, Scott
helping Stiles through his panic attacks and Stiles helping Scott work through
his anger at his dad.
While Scott is downstairs, Stiles pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a
quick text off to his dad, explaining that he won't be staying at home that
night. He smiles in relief when he receives a text back almost immediately, the
sheriff wishing him and Scott a good night's sleep. He relays his dad's
sentiments to Scott when his friend walks back into the room and places two
boxes of pizza in the middle of the bed, setting a six-pack of Red Bull next to
them. He watches as the wolf switches on his television and boots up his Wii,
making grabby hands for his controller when Scott dangles it just out of his
reach.
"I call Peach!" Scott announces excitedly.
Stiles shakes his head fondly at his friend's enthusiasm. Soon enough, the two
of them are embroiled in a fierce match of Mario Kart, taking bites of pizza in
between races or whenever one of them falls off the current track. Scott gets
more and more competitive as Stiles keeps thrashing him, repeatedly hitting his
blonde character with red shell after red shell. When, finally, Scott finds
himself in first place and about to win the final race, Stiles comes out of
nowhere with a blue shell and steals his victory. Scott cries out, incensed,
and throws his controller down on the bed petulantly.
"You should know by now that, when it comes to Mario Kart, you will lose to me
every single time," Stiles laughs, very much enjoying his friend's downfall.
Scott pouts back at Stiles before calling it quits and turning off the console.
He holds two DVDs up in the other teen's face and demands that he choose
between them. "Pick: Iron Man 2 or The Incredible Hulk?"
"Iron Man 2, of course. Nothing beats Tony Stark," Stiles says confidently,
smirking when Scott shakes his head in amusement.
Scott puts the disc in the player and starts the movie before reclaiming his
spot next to Stiles on the bed. They both watch in relative silence, each
making the occasional remark or laughing at something funny that happens on the
screen. Scott eats the remaining half of his pizza noisily, not caring that it
turned cold long ago during their racing.
Stiles picks at what is left of his food. He's still not eating the amount he
used to and ends up leaving several slices untouched in the box. He shuts the
lid before Scott can take notice and call him out on it. When the credits roll,
Scott immediately inserts the next movie. Eventually, Stiles' eyes begin to
droop and he suggests that they go to sleep.
Scott reluctantly agrees. He pulls out a spare pair of sweatpants from his
dresser and throws them in Stiles' direction, turning to look when his target
squawks in indignation. The sight that greets him has him doubling over with
laughter: Stiles stands next to the bed, hands clenched at his sides, the
borrowed garment still on his head from where it had hit him in the face.
"Sorry," Scott apologises when he recovers from his fit.
Pulling the sweatpants from his head, Stiles glares at the beta halfheartedly.
"It's fine," he says eventually, returning the smile Scott sends him. They take
turns in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and making use of the facilities,
before sluggishly getting into bed, Stiles taking his usual place next to the
wall. He turns over on his side and faces the green paint, his back to Scott.
His bedmate is asleep within minutes. He stares at the wall for what feels like
hours and listens to his friend snore softly, unwilling and afraid to fall
asleep just yet. Scott, Isaac and his dad are the only ones who know about his
nightmares, the three having become intimately familiar with his waking
screams. They are always about the same things: the atrocities he committed
while under the influence of the Nogitsune and the resulting pain he caused all
of his friends.
All too soon, Stiles finds his eyes closing of their own volition as he is
whisked away into another nightmare.
                                     * * *
He's trapped in his own body again. He has no control over his actions.
He's with Scott and Kira in Deaton's office, watching as Kira readies herself
to extract the katana from Scott's stomach.
He grabs her wrist and slams her head into the examination table against which
Scott leans. She slumps to the floor, unconscious.
Scott looks up at him, aghast. His fingers dance over the grip of the blade.
The other boy gasps in pain as small vibrations are sent through his body.
"So much pain, Scott," he says, his hand firm around the katana. He pats his
friend's shoulder in mock assurance. "You ready?"
Scott shakes his head in desperation, unable to move much else without causing
himself overwhelming pain.
"Oh, I think you are," he grins, twisting the blade sharply to the left. Scott
screams, tears forming in his eyes.
"You shouldn't trust a fox, Scott; they're tricksters. They'll fool you." He
twists the blade again.
He moves his free hand up to grip Scott's head, turning it to face him. "Come
on, Scotty. Aren't you having fun?"
Scott tries to shake his head vehemently, but the hand gripping him holds it in
place.
"That's a shame. How about we kick it up a notch and see if that helps, hmm?"
He grins evilly, his eyes unblinking.
He crouches down and manoeuvres Kira's body to lie in between him and Scott,
her head at their feet.
"I think this will do the job, Scotty, I really do. You'll be begging for more
soon enough."
He moves his right foot so that it rests atop Kira's head. "I've always loved
grapes. They're so squishy."
Scott's eyes widen as he realises what's about to happen.
He stomps his foot down hard on Kira's skull repeatedly until it cracks. He
keeps eye contact with Scott the entire time.
He keeps going until his heel touches the floor, the blood and brain matter
that leaks out staining the soles of his shoes a jarring red.
"There. Wasn't that fun?" he asks, grin still on his face. "No? You know,
you're being such a downer right now, Scotty."
He moves his thumb to hover over Scott's right eye.
"Do you want to know what's going to happen next, hmm? Or should I just get on
with it?" He wags him thumb back and forth.
Scott is still looking at him in terror, his usually tanned skin turned sickly
pale in the moonlight.
"I think I should just get on with it. You're beginning to bore me." He presses
his thumb down against Scott's eye.
His friend cries out as his thumb presses deeper and deeper, blood dripping
down his face.
"I wonder how much further I'd have to go before I was wiggling around in your
brain. Let's find out."
With a hard shove, his thumb moves past Scott's eye and digs into his head.
Scott screams the entire time.
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" He extracts his thumb from Scott's eye
socket and wipes it off on the other boy's shirt.
"Now, Scott, as much as I hate to cut this short, I do have other people I need
to see, other people to kill. You know how it is. I think I'll start with your
other little girlfriend. I bet she's a screamer like you."
He wraps his hands around Scott's neck and presses down harshly, keeping his
grip firm as his victim gasps in vain for air.
With a final squeeze, Scott's windpipe is crushed and he falls to the floor.
                                     * * *
Stiles wakes up screaming, his limbs flailing in every direction. Not fully
awoken from his nightmare yet, he lashes out when a strong set of arms come
around his chest and pull him back against another body.
Scott struggles to keep a grip on his friend. He brings Stiles flush against
his chest and tries to get through to him. "Stiles! Stiles, it's OK, you're
OK." He keeps up his nonsensical assurances until the panicked human calms
down, his body going limp as he comes back to reality. "Are you OK?" he asks,
slackening his hold on his friend but not removing his arms just yet.
Flopping his head back onto Scott's shoulder, Stiles breathes out an
affirmation as he waits for his heartbeat to slow down. "Yeah. Just another
nightmare..." He sniffles and swipes angrily at his eyes when tears spring to
them.
Scott nods and pats his friend's stomach. "Do you want to talk about it?" He
knows from past experience that sometimes opening up about his nightmares can
dramatically help Stiles calm down and fall back to sleep. If he can manage to
pry the information out of the other teen, that is.
Stiles shakes his head and sighs, not feeling up to rehashing what he just
experienced and dragging Scott down with him. "Not really. Just the usual." He
puts his hand over Scott's. "What time is it?"
Scott checks the clock on his nightstand. "4:15. Do you want to try and get
some more sleep? I can stay awake and wake you up again if it looks like you're
having another nightmare."
"Nah. I don't think I'd be able to get back to sleep anyway." Stiles extracts
himself from his friend's arms and gets out of bed, heading over to the door
and turning on the light. With the room no longer bathed in darkness, he feels
the tightness in his chest ease off slightly. When he looks back over at Scott,
his eyes widen in shock when he sees a black mark on the bedding. He flicks a
hand at the side of the bed he'd been sleeping on to call it to Scott's
attention.
Scott looks down to find his duvet has been singed, the dark spot in the shape
of a handprint standing out against the cream-coloured sheets. "What the hell?"
He touches the mark cautiously. "Do you think this has anything to do with what
Derek was talking about at the meeting earlier?" he asks, immediately on alert,
his ears twitching as he listens for any unusual sounds both in- and outside of
the house. His shoulders come down from around his ears when he hears nothing.
Stiles shrugs. "I don't know." He looks around the room, shuddering when his
eyes seem to be drawn back to the mysterious mark time after time. "No offence,
but I don't know how comfortable I am staying in here until we know what caused
that."
Nodding his understanding, Scott flings back his duvet and swings his legs out
so his feet touch the cold hardwood floor. When he sees Stiles shivering where
he's stood next to the door, he grabs a warm sweater from the middle drawer of
his dresser and hands it to his friend.
Stiles slips on the clothing and breathes a sigh of relief when the bare skin
of his arms is no longer assaulted by the frigid air. He moves to gather up his
things and waits for Scott to join him in the hall. When he hears the sound of
a photo being taken, he peers back inside the room to see the other boy
snapping a series of pictures of the strange handprint with his phone. "Good
idea," he observes, eyebrows raised in mild surprise at Scott's clever
thinking.
Scott turns off the light as he leaves his bedroom and leads Stiles downstairs
into the living room. They take seats side by side on the sofa and stare
blankly at the dark screen of the television that sits directly across from
them. "I'll show the pictures to Derek and Deaton tomorrow and see if they have
any ideas about what could have caused it."
They both sit in silence as they wait for the sun to rise.
***** Metamorphosis *****
- Saturday, January 14th, 2012 -
Scott glances up at the clock that hangs on the wall opposite where he's
sitting in the living room. He sighs when he sees the minute hand creeping
slowly toward the twelve, the past few hours having gone by at a snail's pace.
He turns to look at the boy next to him. He and Stiles had sat mostly in
silence for the remainder of the night, the only sounds in the room being the
ticking of the clock or the rare car driving past outside. After the silence
had settled, Stiles had eventually fallen back into a restless sleep, his face
and hands twitching almost constantly. A small trail of drool escapes his mouth
from where it's pressed against Scott's shoulder. The silence is interrupted
when the minute hand finally hits the twelve, the clock striking seven times.
The sudden noise causes Stiles to startle awake, limbs flailing, his hand
almost smacking Scott on the nose. The beta is saved from the impact by his
quick reflexes. Looking around the room blearily, Stiles blinks in confusion as
he waits for his mind to join him in the land of the living. When he remembers
why he is sat in the McCalls' living room instead of lying in his bed, he
glances at the boy sat beside him and realises that his wrist is still held
tightly in Scott's grasp. "Wha-?" he asks dumbly.
"You nearly hit me in the face when you woke up," Scott explains, releasing his
hold on Stiles' arm and getting up from his seat on the sofa.
"Oh... Sorry," Stiles says, contrite.
"It's fine," Scott assures, holding out a hand and pulling Stiles up to join
him. He grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabs weakly at the
mess on his shoulder.
Stiles watches his friend's actions and apologises again, this time for
drooling all over Scott's shirt.
"Don't worry about it," Scott says, tossing the now-damp tissue into the bin
and leading Stiles into the kitchen. He pulls out two bowls from the cupboards
and sets them on the countertop. "What do you want?" he asks, holding up a
couple of boxes of cereal for his friend's perusal.
Stiles' eyes flick between the two boxes before he shrugs. "Surprise me," he
says simply, making his way over to the fridge and pulling out the open milk
carton that rests in the top shelf on the inside of the door. He hears the
sound of cereal hitting the bowls as he brings the carton over to where Scott
stands and sets it down next to where his friend works. When the cereal is
prepared, they both grab spoons before carrying the full bowls into the dining
room and taking seats across from each other. They eat in silence until Stiles
asks if they're still heading over to Deaton's once they finish.
"That's the plan," Scott mumbles around a mouthful of Cheerios. "He usually
gets into work at around 7:30. He's a little later sometimes, but he never
tells me why..."
When they've both eaten all they can, Scott tells Stiles to send off a text to
the rest of the pack to ask them to meet at Deaton's in half an hour. He takes
both bowls and drops them off in the kitchen sink, dismayed to see that Stiles'
bowl is still half full. When he walks back into the dining room, he sees
Stiles sliding his phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants, the text
finished and sent. Tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get him to follow,
Scott leads the way back upstairs and heads once more into his bedroom, pulling
out a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. He sees Stiles pick the clothes
he'd arrived in yesterday up off of the floor, from where he'd thrown them
haphazardly the previous night. "You wanna wash up first?" he asks, clutching
his clothes in one hand, his toothbrush and toothpaste in the other.
Stiles nods his head. "Sure, thanks," he accepts gratefully before heading off
to the bathroom.
Scott watches him go, putting the items in his hands atop his dresser before
drawing back the curtains so more light filters into the room. He glares at the
sheets on his bed, his nose wrinkled up in distaste when the natural light
allows him to see the scorch mark in more vivid detail. Not wanting to look at
it any longer, he pulls open the duvet case and strips the fabric off, leaving
it on the floor as he heads out into the hall to the linen closet. He picks out
a clean one at random. He is just smoothing the material into place when Stiles
reenters the room, taking care to make everything look presentable so his mom
doesn't lecture him about making his bed again like she's done thousands of
times in the past.
"All yours," Stiles says simply, noticing the new sheets with silent curiosity.
Scott pouts when Stiles flops down on the bed after he moves aside, instantly
ruining his work. "Hey, I just made that!" he whines, a spark of annoyance
stirring in his gut before he tamps it down, knowing that the other boy meant
no harm. His pout turns into a smile when Stiles immediately leaps back up off
of the bed and starts frantically fixing all of the wrinkles he made in the new
duvet cover, babbling apologies all the while. He only stops when Scott lays a
hand on his shoulder and gently pulls him away from the bed.
"I'm apologising a lot lately, aren't I?" Stiles asks, dejected.
"Yes, but you really don't have to. Why don't you go wait out in the Jeep while
I get ready?" Scott suggests, hoping to avoid any further distress.
Stiles hightails it out of the room, his steps heavy as he descends the stairs
and grabs the McCalls' spare keys from the hook beside the front door. He
shoves them in the lock roughly. When he gets outside, the fresh air instantly
calms him down and he takes a few seconds to just stand on the porch and
breathe it all in. When he's taken his fill, he bounces down the concrete steps
and pulls his car keys out from their home in the back pocket of his jeans.
Once he's ensconced in the familiar interior of his Jeep, he turns on the radio
and taps along absentmindedly to a song he doesn't recognise but finds he
likes. He memorises a couple of the lyrics so he can look it up later. He
notices that Melissa McCall's car is no longer next to his, the woman no doubt
having headed off to a shift at the hospital. He wonders for a moment why he
hadn't run into her the previous night.
Just as the current song finishes, Scott comes barrelling out of the house,
slamming the door shut carelessly behind himself. Stiles fails to suppress a
laugh when he sees Scott almost trip over on his way down the front steps, the
bag he has clutched at his side swinging wildly. When both teens are strapped
in, Stiles reverses out of the driveway and heads off in the direction of the
veterinary clinic. When Scott looks over at him, he knows that the beta can
smell how anxious he is about potentially getting answers to the anomaly they
found earlier. Both of the car's occupants breathe a sigh of relief when they
pull up outside of the clinic and see the rest of the pack already assembled
outside. The girls and Jackson look particularly put out. Stiles knows that
he'll likely catch hell from all of them for making them get up so early on a
Saturday morning.
When he hops out of the car—a second door slamming tells him that Scott has
done the same—Stiles heads over to the others and greets them nervously, nearly
withering under the glare that Erica gives him in response. Her hair is done up
in a messy bun at the top of her head and her usual red lipstick is missing
from her lips. He's saved from the blonde's wrath when Scott steps around him
and gives a much more enthusiastic greeting, either oblivious to or ignoring
the sour moods that Stiles can almost smell with his human nose. Derek stands
at the back of the group, his familiar leather jacket zipped up halfway,
complementing the dark stubble along his jaw. His arms are crossed over the
deep blue Henley that peeks out from where the jacket is undone and the
seemingly ever-present scowl is back on his face.
"What's this all about, Scott?" Jackson demands, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
He wraps an arm around Lydia when the girl huddles closer, shivering in the
cold early-morning air.
Scott chooses to ignore the question. "Is Deaton here yet?" he asks instead,
looking at Derek when no one answers.
"I can hear him inside," Derek states simply, his voice deeper than usual from
only having woken up a few minutes ago. He runs a hand through his sleep-mussed
hair.
Stiles watches the action intently, the rumbling of the alpha's voice doing
funny things to his insides, unaware that Lydia, Allison and Erica are all
observing him, too. A smirk slides into place on the blonde's face when she
hears the slight uptick in his heartbeat.
Pushing through the pack, Scott drags Stiles along behind himself and knocks
open the back entrance to the clinic with his shoulder. When he enters the back
room, he sees Deaton fiddling with the many jars that are stored inside the
cabinets lining the back wall. The man turns around when he hears the plethora
of footsteps made by the rest of the pack as they enter the room behind Stiles.
"Well, this is a surprise. What brings you all here?" Deaton asks, his brow
furrowed. His gaze travels over the dishevelled group before him, his eyes
lingering on Stiles longer than anyone else.
"That's what I'd like to know," Derek speaks up, stepping out of the group
still standing by the door to lean instead against the metal examination table
standing in the middle of the room. "I got a text from Stiles earlier, asking
us to all meet him here. Stiles?" He turns to face the teen, one of his
eyebrows raised in question.
Sensing Stiles' discomfiture, Scott steps forward and pulls out his phone,
taking the room's attention off of his friend. He loads up the pictures he took
the previous night and tosses the phone at Derek. The man catches the device
nimbly, his alpha reflexes making it so he doesn't even have to worry about
dropping it. Scott explains what the pictures are of when Derek glances up from
the phone curiously. "This mark appeared on my bedspread last night when Stiles
was staying over. We don't know how it got there; I didn't smell or sense
anything weird."
Deaton takes the phone from Derek's hands—Derek glares at him as he does so—and
looks closely at the current image on the screen. "What were you doing when you
noticed this?" he asks.
Stiles frowns and bites his lip in consternation when he picks up on the hint
of excitement that runs through Deaton's voice.
"We were sleeping," Scott explains. "We'd just finished watching The Incredible
Hulk when we went to bed." Lydia snorts derisively at this. "Stiles had a
nightmare partway through the night, which woke both of us up, and when he
turned on the light he saw that handprint on the sheets." When he's finished,
Scott looks at the faces of his alpha and his boss, checking for any signs of
recognition and finding none. "So, any idea what it could be?" he asks, just in
case.
"Well, there are several possibilities," Deaton says, handing the phone back to
Scott, who in turn gives it to the rest of the pack when they indicate they
want to take a look for themselves. "There's no way to tell for sure, but since
it's in the form of a handprint, I would assume it's a creature that can take
human form, like a fire imp, a Djinn or a fire elemental. There are others, of
course, but none of those would have really been able to create a mark of this
shape." He opens one of the cupboards on the walls and pulls out several old
tomes from his collection, handing them off to Derek when the alpha holds out
his arms. The bearded man grunts under their weight.
Deaton taps the pile a couple of times before moving away. "These contain
information on the creatures I mentioned. Until something else happens that
gives us a better idea of what we're dealing with, I'm afraid we're just going
to have to cover all the bases we can think of so that the chances of being
caught unaware are slimmer."
The pack nods their agreement. Isaac slips the topmost book from Derek's hands
and begins flipping through it casually. He makes noises of comprehension and
interest as he reads.
Danny rolls his eyes, already sensing and dreading what he knows the day will
now entail. With a hand at the small of his back, he guides his boyfriend and
follows most of the other pack members as they leave the clinic, opening the
passenger door to his car when the curly-haired beta doesn't make to do so
himself, still too engrossed in his book to notice where he is.
Stiles hovers next to Derek and Scott in the clinic, wondering whether he
should take a couple of the books home with him to look through later. His
decision is made for him when Lydia storms over to him. He is only just able to
snag a couple before the redhead drags him bodily out of the building. He hears
Derek swear when the rest of the books in his hands tumble to the floor.
Yelling an apology over his shoulder, he allows Lydia to shove him through her
car's open passenger door and drops the books into the footwell before
strapping in.
"Where are we going?" Stiles asks when Lydia slips into the driver's seat. He
swallows nervously when, instead of answering, Lydia just smirks at him before
jamming her keys into the ignition. They fly out of the parking lot.
                                     * * *
After the meeting at the veterinary clinic, Kira leaves Allison and Scott to
their own devices and drives straight back home, intent on getting the sleep
she was deprived of earlier when Stiles' text had woken her up. She walks
through the front door of her house and toes off her shoes, kicking them
carelessly next to her parents' beneath the coatrack on the wall. She heads
into the kitchen and scavenges for a snack in the fridge. Her mouth starts to
water when she spots the leftover sushi from the previous night's dinner. She
kneels down for a closer inspection.
"What was the meeting about?"
Startled by the unexpected voice, Kira jumps up and bangs her head against one
of the shelves. Groaning in pain, she stands shakily and turns around to find
her mother, Noshiko Yukimura, standing in the doorway that leads to the living
room, her arms crossed and her hip cocked. She's still dressed in her pyjamas
and her hair is fluffed up and messy from sleep.
"Nothing much," Kira explains, bending back down and taking several pieces of
sushi from the shelf and stuffing them in her mouth. She catches her mother
looking at her, judgement clear in the woman's narrowed eyes, and looks down at
the floor to hide her smile. "Something happened last night with Scott. Stiles
was sleeping over and when they woke up, there was a scorch mark in the shape
of a handprint on the sheets. After Derek warned us that something new was
coming to town yesterday, they were worried that the handprint had something to
do with it." She steals two more pieces of sushi before shutting the fridge.
"Deaton said it could be one of several things: either a fire imp, a Djinn or a
fire elemental. He's not sure, though. He gave everyone some books to read so
we can try and figure it out."
Noshiko quirks an eyebrow at her daughter. "Hmm, I'll have to keep an eye on
that..." She smiles warmly at Kira's confused expression. "What are you going
to be doing today?" she enquires, walking sedately over to the coffee pot on
the counter, filling it with water from the sink and switching it on. She pulls
a couple of mugs down from where they hang beneath the cupboards on the wall
while she waits for the water to heat up.
"Well, first, I'm going to back to bed," Kira declares, laughing when she
receives another stern look from her mother. "Then, I guess I'm gonna start
going through the book I got from Deaton. He gave everybody one to look
through." The beep of the coffee pot sounds as soon as she finishes talking.
Filling the mugs with the dark brown liquid, Noshiko sighs in contentment when
she takes her first sip. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it, then. Call me if
you need any help, OK?" she requests, only leaving the kitchen when Kira nods
her acquiescence. She hands off the second mug to her husband—who is sat
reading the morning newspaper at the dining room table—before proceeding to her
office, shutting the door behind herself. Setting her mug down on her desk, she
scans the various thick tomes that line the vast bookcase spanning the entirety
of one of the walls. Her fingers glide along the spines of the books. She
focuses her mind as she searches, stopping when she feels a tiny spark against
her fingertips. Running her hand back and forth across the book a couple more
times to make sure, she pulls out the one that called to her and sets the
leather-bound volume next to her coffee.
The book is so old that the lettering on the spine is no longer legible.
Noshiko settles down in the chair behind her desk and opens the book, her nose
wrinkling when a flurry of dust escapes the pages and hits her right in the
face. After coughing profusely and flapping the offending substance away with
her hands, she flips hastily through the book, muttering to herself as she
searches for answers. When she finally comes across the pages she is looking
for, a smirk breaks out on her face as she studies the text, pausing
intermittently to mull over what she reads. The Japanese lettering talks about
ancient Japanese creatures. She skips through the impertinent points until she
finds the section on Kitsune and Nogitsune. Her eyes widen as she reads the
entry. She brings a hand to her mouth as the information sinks in, her coffee
forgotten in her shock.
                                     * * *
Lydia ends up dragging Stiles to the mall. Her plan was originally to go with
Allison, but the other girl had gone off with Scott after giving a flimsy
excuse about needing to spend some more time alone.
The corners of Stiles' mouth are turned down as he trudges after the redhead
through the influx of people that mill aimlessly around the complex. "What are
we doing here?" he asks wearily as they walk through the entrance and into the
warmth of the large, heated building.
"Shopping," Lydia answers simply. She grabs Stiles' hand and drags him along
behind herself when the boy groans as if in pain and stops walking, no doubt in
a poor attempt to prevent having to participate in what he deems to be an
incredibly boring exercise. "Seriously, you'd think I was forcing you to walk
the plank or something..."
"S'what it feels like..." Stiles murmurs, keeping his head down. He shakes off
Lydia's grip and traipses after her dejectedly. Lydia ends up forcing him into
every clothing store they pass, where he is made to sit innocently outside the
changing rooms and comment on each new outfit his friend tries on. His face
grows redder and redder each time Lydia retreats back behind the curtain,
taking with her his excuse for being there and in turn subjecting him to both
curious and mildly offended stares from the other female patrons in the shops.
Two long hours later—he finally puts his foot down following a particularly
mortifying twenty minutes in Victoria's Secret—they finally exit the mall,
Stiles laden down with an absurd amount of bags, all of which contain Lydia's
new clothes. The redhead herself only carries one.
Noon has just passed and the sun is high in the sky when Stiles struggles to
open the back door of Lydia's car and deposit the shopping in the spacious
backseat.
Unwilling to call it a day so soon, Lydia tosses an old blanket over her
backseat to conceal her shopping and deter thieves. "You want to go check out
that new Froyo place that just opened down the street?" she asks, tugging
Stiles along by the hand before he can even answer. There is a long queue when
they enter the small shop. They both sigh as they get in line, looking over the
menu that hangs above the registers in front of them while they wait.
When they have their chosen desserts, Stiles pays for both of them—his
reasoning being that Lydia already spent so much earlier—and they take a couple
of seats at one of the old-fashioned metal lawn tables on the street outside
the shop. Lydia has plain vanilla Froyo, drizzled liberally with strawberry
sauce, which she devours quickly while Stiles picks at the Reese's Peanut
Butter Cup flavoured Froyo he had ended up selecting. They talk idly about
school, Stiles bitching about his new chemistry teacher and Lydia complaining
about how much Jackson never listens to her. When they finish, they toss their
empty plastic cups into a garbage can nearby and slowly begin making their way
back over to Lydia's car.
"Do you want me to drop you off with your Jeep?" Lydia asks, pulling her keys
out of her purse.
Stiles nods, trying and failing to resist the urge to laugh when Lydia fumbles
her keys and they fall to the floor. He grins sheepishly at the redhead when
she glares up at him. His heartbeat speeds up when he notices the panicked
expression that appears on her face when she leaps back to her feet.
"Stiles, we have to get out of here. Now!" Lydia's voice comes out choked,
feeling near-suffocated by the sudden, overwhelming sense of danger she feels.
She jumps when a hand reaches around Stiles' neck at lightning speed, causing
the boy to gasp and flail.
Stiles freezes when he sees the knife in the stranger's hand, the metal
reflecting the sun's rays into his eyes. "Now, now, pretty boy, don't do
anything stupid," a cold voice breathes in his ear, sending shivers down his
spine. "You, too, ginger." The man extends his free hand toward Lydia. "Now,
hand over your purse and this one," he tips his head toward Stiles, "won't get
hurt."
Stiles flinches and clenches his eyes shut when the edge of the knife digs into
his neck.
Lydia trembles as she slips the strap of her purse off of her shoulder and into
her hand.
When the stranger moves to take the purse, the knife in his hand presses down
harder against Stiles' throat. Unable to breathe for fear of getting cut,
adrenaline courses through his veins and instincts that are both foreign and
yet somehow familiar take over. His eyes burst open, his normally cinnamon-
coloured irises glowing bright gold. He elbows the mugger in the stomach and
grabs his knife-wielding hand in his own, smashing the butt of the weapon into
the man's nose and causing him to release his hold on the hilt. Not
relinquishing his grip, he allows his anger to spread through his system, the
force manifesting itself physically through his hands. His palms burn white and
the man screams in pain from where he kneels on the gravel of the parking lot,
the smell of burning flesh permeating the air.
"Stiles!"
Lydia's shout brings Stiles out of his trance. He pulls his hand back and
stumbles away from their would-be mugger, his mouth open in horror as the man
runs away, screaming bloody murder.
Lydia steps cautiously up to her friend, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Stiles, what did you do?"
***** Shadow *****
Derek stands quietly in front of the large windows in his loft, looking up at
the sky as he fiddles with his triskelion necklace, the gold chain a constant
fixture around his neck nowadays. Several of the books Deaton gave him earlier
lay open on the desk behind him, forgotten. When the rest of the pack had split
off to do their own things, Derek had slid behind the wheel of his Camaro and
driven back to his home. After spending two hours flipping through the pages in
search of anything vaguely fire-related, he'd decided to take a break when the
small and overly complicated text had started to bring on a headache. While he
watches the clouds pass by, he wonders what Stiles is up to at that moment,
whether he's enduring through whatever tortures Lydia is no doubt inflicting
upon him. As it always does when his mind wanders to the spastic teen, his
heart skips at beat in his chest, reminding him of his repressed feelings. He
smiles sadly, still resolute in his decision to ignore them as much as he
possibly can. By now, he's used to denying himself the things he wants,
thinking himself unworthy of them, so it's not a terribly hard feat.
The relaxed silence is broken when Peter walks through the loft's sliding door,
slamming it shut with a dramatic flourish of his hand. The resulting bang
echoes around the room. When he senses that Derek is presently the loft's only
occupant, he saunters over to stand next to his nephew, raising an eyebrow when
he notices that Derek is toying once again with the chain around his neck. He
swears that every time he's seen the alpha in the past week, the younger man
has always been touching his new necklace in some way. He would find it sweet
if it weren't so annoying. "Tell me, dear nephew of mine, when are you planning
on informing Stiles of your affections?" he drawls, smiling toothily when Derek
turns to look at him, his face a mixture of shock and suspicion.
"What affections?" Derek deflects as he schools his mask back in place,
dropping his hand from his necklace and purposefully keeping his arms rigidly
at his sides. He is surprised that Peter would have knowledge of his feelings,
let alone that he would have the gall to bring them up in such a direct
fashion. He supposes he should have known better; his uncle has never really
been one to beat around the bush, as Derek found out when, instead of learning
about the birds and the bees from his parents like his sister, Laura, had when
she hit puberty, Peter had gotten to him first and subjected him to several
hours of filth. He was subsequently scarred for life. His mother, Talia, was
furious when she found out, but as usual, Peter didn't end up suffering any
consequences. Laura said it was the funniest thing that had happened all year.
"Your affections for Stiles, of course," Peter replies, waggling his eyebrows.
He leans back against the desk and flips casually through a couple of pages in
one of the books that rest there. "And don't even try to deny it; it's as clear
as day to anyone who knows where to look. Plus, your heartbeat gives you away.
What's all this?" He snaps his hand back when the book he is looking through is
suddenly slammed shut. His smug grin widens when Derek quickly gathers the
books in his arms and stalks away up the spiral staircase, his mouth a thin
line of barely suppressed anger.
After depositing the books atop his bed so that Peter can't get his hands on
them anymore, Derek heads back downstairs, intent on kicking his uncle out of
his loft. He pauses when he finds the beta is now lounging on one of the sofas,
his hands tucked behind his head, his eyes closed. The other man looks every
bit like the epitome of serenity. He knows it's really just a smokescreen for
the boatload of crazy that's still hidden just beneath the surface.
"You still haven't answered my question," Peter speaks up, crossing his legs
where they rest on the coffee table. He remains unbothered when his shoes leave
scuff marks on the previously pristine black surface.
"That's because it doesn't concern you," Derek huffs, eventually deciding that
attempting to manhandle his uncle out isn't worth the effort. "I wish you would
just leave." He longs for the days he experienced at the beginning of the
previous year, when Peter wasn't around to annoy the hell out of everyone, his
body decomposing where it was stuffed under the charred floorboards of their
old living room. At least ever since he mind-controlled Lydia into resurrecting
him, the ex-alpha has seemed to no longer harbour any outright evil thoughts,
choosing instead to remain in the background and spout off little insults every
now and then. Surprisingly, Lydia is the only one in the whole pack who seems
to be able to get the older man to shut his mouth, his own red eyes proving to
be oddly useless.
Peter peels open one eyelid and peers intently at Derek, very much enjoying the
fact that his continued unwanted presence riles his nephew up so obviously.
"But then who would be around to annoy you?" he asks cheekily. "It's my
prerogative as your favourite uncle." He hears Derek loose a quiet growl in his
direction and smirks when he sees the look of clear frustration on the alpha's
face.
"You're my only uncle, unfortunately, but you know what they say, Peter: you
can't choose your family," Derek digs, satisfied when his words wipe the
seemingly ever-present smug smile off of Peter's face. He wishes it were always
that easy to bring the other man down a peg or two. Lately, he's found himself
seriously questioning his earlier decision to allow the beta to stick around.
He knows he's not too far away from kicking his uncle out of the pack and
making him an omega. No one would miss him, he's sure.
"Indeed you can't..." Peter sighs, opening both eyes now to stare speculatively
at Derek. "So, going back to what I said earlier, are you ever going to let
Stiles in on your little secret?" He can't help bringing the topic up again, as
he still gets what others would say is far too much enjoyment out of toying
with their lives. He justifies it by saying that if they didn't want his
interference, they wouldn't make it so easy for him to worm his way in and stay
there.
"That's no one's business but mine, so stay out of it!" Derek orders, letting
his eyes flash red to reinforce his words. His claws are threatening to make an
appearance and he has to clench his hands tightly to stop them from fully
materialising. When he feels small pinpricks of pain on his palms as they
pierce his skin, he breathes out deeply through his nose in an attempt to calm
himself down again. He should really know by now that a simple alpha command
isn't enough to deter his tenacious uncle.
"Oh, Derek, I think that it is my business," Peter reasons, sitting forward
again and placing his feet back on the floor. He sees that the alpha is glaring
at the marks his shoes have left on the coffee table and shrugs. "You see, as
long as you keep your feelings for Stiles a secret, you're not happy. I do hate
to see you in such a state."
Derek scoffs at these words, disbelieving. He doesn't think Peter has been
capable of caring about anyone else but himself since the fire. He certainly
hasn't acted like that's not the case.
"Believe what you want..." Peter says, picking at his nails and sighing. "I
know I don't have the best track record when it comes to my behaviour, but I
want you to know that I'm not lying. Just listen to my heartbeat: I care about
your happiness." He masks the skip in his heart with a skill he's had perfected
ever since his teenage years, when Talia's constant tattling had gotten him
into repeated trouble with their parents. Ever since, he's been able to lie to
anyone about anything without being detected. It got him out of a lot of
groundings growing up.
A frown crosses Derek's face when Peter's heartbeat doesn't stutter, not even a
little bit. He still thinks the beta must be lying, regardless, very much aware
of how adept the older man is when it comes to the art of deception. He comes
to the conclusion that, if Peter does anything to interfere in his relationship
with Stiles, he's going to kick him to the curb before he can even blink.
"See? I'm telling the truth," Peter says, making his eyes look as earnest as
possible to help his claims. "So, care to inform me of your plans?" He looks
pointedly at the chain around Derek's neck before moving back up to the alpha's
face, blinking expectantly and fluttering his eyelashes.
Derek shifts uncomfortably before crossing his arms. "I don't have any plans,"
he begins, his voice hushed even though no one else is around to overhear his
words. "Stiles already has too much on his plate right now without me making
him feel even more awkward. He doesn't know how I feel about him and that's how
it's going to stay!" He points an accusatory finger at his uncle, hoping that
he'll listen for once.
"Well, I wouldn't wait too long because, as I understand it, a certain banshee
and her cronies might have plans regarding the two of you..." Peter teases, his
voice lilting. He scratches at his chest absently, the fabric of the shirt he
current wears apparently not one his skin approves of very much.
"And what makes you think that?" Derek asks, narrowing his eyes, suspicious. He
wouldn't put it past Peter to be skulking around the pack's houses at night,
looking for information he can use in his nefarious plots.
"You can learn a lot by blending into the woodwork, you know," Peter explains,
waving a dismissive hand in Derek's direction. "People let their guards down
and say all kinds of things if they don't know you're there to overhear." His
usual devious smile creeps back onto his face, unnerving the alpha greatly.
Derek rolls his eyes as he heads for the door, one-hundred percent done with
the current conversation. He turns back to his uncle before he leaves. "I'm
warning you now, Peter. If I find out that you're planning on hurting any
member of this pack in any way at all, I'll take you out so fast you won't even
see me coming. I'll make it very painful, too." He pauses for a second to allow
his words to sink in. "You'd best be gone by the time I get back!" He storms
out and slams the door shut behind himself with a deafening noise the echoes
around the cavernous living room.
"Oh, Derek, if only you knew..." Peter says quietly to himself, sighing
dramatically before he heads up the spiral staircase to the second floor.
                                     * * *
Lydia's hand rests on Stiles' shoulder. Confusion and fear from what she has
just witnessed causes her voice to waver in an uncharacteristic show of
weakness. "Stiles... We really need to get out of here, right now!" she
instructs, trying to get the boy's attention. In all of the research she has
done since she found out about the supernatural—including all of the
translations she's done from the Argent bestiary—she's come across nothing that
could give her a reasonable explanation for what just happened.
Stiles stands like a statue, unmoving, his mouth gaping open and eyes wide with
shock. He looks slowly down at his hands, unable to comprehend what he has just
done as he turns them over again and again, almost expecting that his close
inspection will reveal the answers to all of his questions. How had he done it?
Would it happen again? Before the panic he feels stirring in his stomach can
fully grip him, he hears Lydia yelling behind him again before she spins him
around.
Turning his head, Stiles sees that Lydia is standing next to him. The redhead
is looking around, her brows drawn together in worry. Gradually, reality begins
to settle back in his mind as he copies Lydia's actions and notices that
several other people are also frozen in the parking lot, a couple of them only
a few feet away. The bystanders are all looking at the pair of them in horror.
He struggles to make out their whispers, their mouths hidden behind cupped
hands. Even though he doesn't know what everyone is saying, he knows that the
words are no doubt filled with confusion and judgement and fear. "Yeah. Yeah,
good plan..." he trails off, taking a couple of steps backward until he finds
himself pressed against the driver's-side door of Lydia's car. The girl moves
to stand in front of him and he feels her hands on his cheeks as she tilts his
head down to meet her eyes.
"Stiles, I don't know what's happening, but it's going to be OK. We'll figure
it out. Let's go and see if Deaton can explain this," she says with false
conviction before leading the shocked boy around the car and pushing him gently
into the passenger seat, watching as he straps himself in on autopilot. Taking
her place behind the wheel, she drives out of the parking lot and races off in
the direction of Deaton's clinic, glancing over at her friend at every stop
sign and red light. The car is eerily silent the whole way. When they pull up
at the back of the clinic, she sees Scott's bike parked next to the door and
breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that the beta will be a big help in keeping
Stiles grounded. "Come on." She opens her door. Dragging Stiles along behind
herself, she pushes open the back door of the clinic and immediately scans the
room for Deaton.
Said man looks up in surprise when the two filter into the room. "Back again?
What could have possibly happened in the four and a half hours you've been
gone?" Deaton asks in worry. He stops working on the golden retriever that is
currently unconscious on the examination table, putting down his tools and
pulling off his rubber gloves. Before he can call out to Scott to get his
assistant to take the dog back to the kennels in the other room, the beta's
head appears around the doorframe.
A smile lights up Scott's face when he sees Stiles and Lydia standing there,
always happy to see his friends. It slips off again when he takes in the
frantic expression on the girl's face. Turning worried eyes on his best friend,
he can immediately feel the tumultuous emotions that lie beneath Stiles'
catatonic exterior. "Stiles, Lydia? What's wrong?" He walks fully into the room
and kicks the door shut behind himself so that none of the people in the
waiting room can overhear their conversation.
Lydia takes a deep breath before launching into the story, her composure
slipping more and more as she describes Stiles' hands glowing white and burning
the arms of the stranger that attacked them in the mall parking lot. Her hands
gesticulate wildly, a stark contrast to the boy in question that stands behind
her. When she finishes, she looks at the two men in front of her with
desperation clear in her eyes. "Well? Do you have any idea what the hell could
be happening?!"
Deaton looks dumbfounded. Scott moves to stand in front of Stiles, worried when
he hears the other teen's heart rate increase rapidly. "Stiles?" he asks, his
hands settling on the pale boy's shoulders. He calls to him again when he gets
no reaction, louder this time. This seems to break Stiles out of whatever
trance he was in, his head snapping up, his eyes panicked, sweat beading along
his forehead.
"S-Scott?" Stiles' voice cracks on the name as small tremors begin to wrack his
body. He breathing comes in short and erratic and his hands clench reflexively
at his sides. He squeezes his eyes shut as he gasps for air, struggling to get
enough oxygen into his lungs.
Scott moves his left hand from Stiles' shoulder and places it on his chest
instead, taking one of his friend's hands and positioning it over his own
heart. "It's OK, just breathe. Feel my heartbeat and try to match your
breathing to mine," he instructs, his right hand tightening on Stiles' shoulder
in an effort to reassure when tears start to leak from the other boy's eyes.
His body tenses when he feels heat spread across his chest and when he looks
down, he sees that Stiles' hand is glowing faintly. "Stiles, come on, breathe
with me. It's just a panic attack; you've gotten through them before and this
time is no different." He looks at Lydia, silently urging her to help.
Lydia moves to press herself against Stiles' back, her hands finding themselves
splayed flat against the boy's trembling stomach as her nose rests at the nape
of his neck.
The smell of burning fabric wafts throughout the room as Scott continues to try
and get through to Stiles. He keeps up the stream of assurances and is relieved
when he hears Stiles' jackrabbiting heart begin to slow, his breaths coming
easier. The heat on his chest disappears just as suddenly as it had come when
Stiles finally opens his eyes again.
Moving out of Lydia's grasp, Stiles bumps into the cabinet behind himself and
slides down it until his ass hits the floor. "What the hell is happening to
me?" he asks as he wipes at the lingering moisture on his cheeks, tucking his
legs up close to his shaking body. Panic attacks always leave him feeling lost
for up to several hours after they finish, his emotions frazzled and his mind
feeling foggy. He's experienced a depressingly high amount of them in recent
months, reminding him of how he was right after his mother's death. He'd been
mortified when Derek ended up being the only person around during one of them,
though the alpha had proven to be surprisingly good at bringing him out of it.
It was the fastest he ever remembers his chest losing its unrelenting
tightness. He hadn't been able to show his face around the older man for two
whole weeks afterward, too embarrassed to even contemplate it. This went on
until Derek had appeared unexpectedly in his bedroom one evening and confronted
him, telling him that he was being stupid and that he honestly didn't mind.
"You're becoming a Kitsune."
Everyone in the room turns at the new voice. Noshiko Yukimura stands just
inside the back door to the clinic, a heavy, old-looking book tucked underneath
her arm. Her dark hair is tied up in an elegant ponytail at the top of her head
and she wears a mint green sweater and a simple pair of jeans.
"What did you say?" Deaton enquires, eyebrows meeting in the middle of his
forehead, his mouth slightly agape. He's sure he heard the woman wrong. The
others wear similar looks on their faces.
"I said he's becoming a Kitsune," Noshiko repeats, stepping fully into the
room. She heaves the book onto the metal examination table in the middle of the
room, mindful not to disturb the dog that still slumbers there as she opens it
to a bookmarked page in the middle. "As much as I hoped I would turn out to be
wrong, I had my suspicions that this could be a possibility after you removed
the Nogitsune from Stiles' body."
The group moves to stand around the table when Noshiko beckons for them to come
closer. Scott keeps his hand pressed against the small of Stiles' back in
support after he helps him up from the floor.
"I made the connection earlier this morning, after Kira told me about the
scorch mark that appeared on Scott's bedding," Noshiko continues, flipping
through the next few pages as she explains her thought process. "This text
talks about a case that happened hundreds of years ago back in Japan, when a
man named Akito Takahashi called forth a Nogitsune to exact revenge upon a
group of mobsters that murdered his wife and twin daughters. When he tried to
correct his mistake by destroying the Nogitsune's body, like what happened with
Stiles, the spirit jumped into Akito's body instead. When the possession was
eventually brought to an end by a family friend, Akito began exhibiting the
traits of a Kitsune. There are thirteen types: wind, earth, fire, river,
heaven, thunder, mountain, void, spirit, time, forest, ocean and music.
Nogitsune are void, Akito was wind and, as you know already, Kira is thunder."
"So what, I'm a Kitsune now?" Stiles asks, his voice tight with worry, his
hands clenched around the edge of the table. He doesn't like the thought of no
longer being human. If he wanted to truly be a part of the supernatural world
himself, he would've asked Derek for the bite a long time ago.
"In a sense. Technically, you're still human, but you have the powers of a
Kitsune. Going from what I've heard, I would guess that you're of the fire
variety," Noshiko answers calmly, closing the book since no one would be able
to read it anyway. "Until you learn to control them, your powers will manifest
themselves at times in which you experience distress or some other heightened
emotion."
Deaton nods knowingly, not happy to come across something he is unfamiliar with
and choosing to pretend like he knew everything all along. "That explains why
they appeared after you had your nightmare and when your life was in danger,"
he interjects, his head tilted as he contemplates the new information. "And
let's not forget the new design on Scott's shirt." He inclines his head at his
assistant's chest, indicating to the new, black handprint that Stiles' earlier
panic has placed there.
Stiles looks at his friend in shock. "Oh my God, Scott, are you OK?!" he asks,
running his hands up and down Scott's torso in a futile attempt to reassure
himself that no permanent damage has been done. His heart clenches in his chest
at the thought of possibly hurting another one of his friends. He wonders when
his body will finally feel like his again, bringing his torment to an end.
"I'm fine, dude," Scott says, pulling out the neck of his shirt and glancing at
the bare skin of his chest that's hidden beneath. He pulls the fabric down to
show the others. "See? All healed." He smiles kindly.
Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, bowing his head and relinquishing his hold on
Scott's arm. "What happens now? I don't want to hurt anyone else, so how do I
learn to control it?" He looks between Noshiko and Deaton for answers.
"I'd recommend you go and see Derek," Noshiko suggests, wiping her palms on the
rough fabric of her jeans. "At the very least, he should be able to teach you
the basics of learning to better control your emotions. I'll help in any way I
can, as I'm sure will Kira, with your alpha's permission, of course." She
brushes her fringe out of her face before picking her book up from the table.
"We should leave immediately, before anything else has a chance to happen."
The three teenagers all nod and move to exit. Scott takes notice of the worry
he can smell from Stiles and nudges the other boy's shoulder with his own. He
returns his friend's shy smile before heading over to his bike. He watches
Stiles and Lydia climb into the front of the girl's car—the redhead stopping
Stiles from getting into his Jeep with the reasoning that he's in no state to
drive at that moment in time—as Noshiko gets into hers. He snaps on his helmet,
hoping that he and Lydia can get their friend over this new hurdle.
                                     * * *
Meanwhile, over at the high school, instead of studying the books Deaton gave
them, Jackson, Boyd and Cora are engaged in a fierce game of lacrosse against
Danny, Isaac and Erica. Ordinarily, they would never dream of stepping foot on
school property on the weekend, but after some convincing—or grovelling, as
Erica would put it—Jackson had managed to convince the other betas to agree to
a few practice matches in preparation for the new lacrosse season that'll be
starting in a couple of months. No one bothers wearing any protective gear,
since the injuries they'll undoubtably end up inflicting upon each other will
heal instantly and there isn't anyone else around for whom they would have to
keep up appearances. Boyd throws the ball down the field from his lacrosse
stick, overshooting in his enthusiasm. It soars right over Isaac's head.
Jackson has to leap into the air in order to catch the ball with his own stick.
"Bit overexcited there, are we, Boyd?" he shouts down the field. He doesn't
need to yell—Boyd is a werewolf, after all, and could hear him perfectly
fine—but old habits die hard. He spins around and runs for the goal, aiming for
the top left corner before flinging the ball hard. He cheers when Danny's
attempts to stop it prove ineffective, the ball hitting the back of the net.
Danny glares at him good-naturedly before stooping down to retrieve it from the
grass. "I think that means me, Boyd and Cora win!" He laughs cockily.
"Yeah, but don't get used to it! We're gonna wipe the field with you in the
next game!" Erica yells from where she stands next to her team's goal. "Isaac,
you and Danny are switching. You're way too cautious to play offence." She
smacks the curly-haired boy upside the head when he passes her on his way to
the goal to take Danny's place.
A booming laugh sounds throughout the field as they ready the next play,
drawing all of the wolves to a halt.
"Uh, what was that?" Isaac asks in panic, his voice pitched higher than usual.
The group's hackles rise simultaneously as the smell of rotting flesh fills
their noses. They immediately gather together in the middle of the field and
turn their heads back and forth, looking for the source of the stench. They all
jump when the laugh sounds again, closer this time. A strike of lightning lands
suddenly in the centre of the group, causing them all to shriek and leap away.
Turning his head from where he lands on his stomach, Isaac looks back over his
shoulder. His eyes widen when he sees a figure is now stood right where the
lightning struck. It stands tall, its stance confident. From the substantial
bulk of it, Isaac deduces that it must be male. The smell of rotting flesh
intensifies tenfold. A strange darkness filters around the figure, obscuring
it, making it difficult to discern any features or characteristics other than
its size. Leaping to his feet, he backs away slowly from the black mass, his
eyes snapping quickly to the other members of the pack. He sees them mimicking
his actions.
"Oh, come now. There's no need to be so scared."
Although the words must come from the dark shape in front of him, they reach
Isaac's ears in an echo, making it feel as if they're coming from all
directions at once.
"You're not who I want. I promise not to hurt you. Much."
Growls come from all of the wolves as they stand in a circle around the black
figure. Eyes flash yellow and blue, fangs extend from teeth and claws
materialise from nails.
"Clearly you're in no mood to play..." the voice says, the disappointment
dripping from the words clearly fake. "Alright then. If you insist." Six arms
extend from the black mist, blowing all of the wolves off of their feet.
Several cracks and gasps signal broken bones as they fall heavily back to the
hard ground.
Isaac's eyes snap open when he feels something wrap itself tightly around his
neck. He looks up and sees the black shape is leaning over him, its head tilted
to the side as if in curiosity. "Who are you? What do you want?" he gasps, the
words difficult to get out around the pressure on his throat. He winces as his
ribs knit themselves back together before he hears a put-upon sigh.
"Now, now, don't concern yourself with my identity; I'm sure you'll find out
soon enough, if your little alpha has anything to say about it. Incidentally,
that brings me to why I'm here. I want you to deliver a message to Derek for
me." The figure leans down so that its head is right next to Isaac's ear. "Now
that he's got his pack settled, I'll be coming for him and his mate when he
least expects it. He had best be ready; I would so love for him to put up a
decent fight this time. Got it?" The figure finally releases his grasp on
Isaac's neck when the beta nods his head jerkily.
Isaac immediately crawls backward out from under the black shape and scurries
away several feet. He sees the rest of the pack have begun advancing on the
figure from the corners of his eyes. Another blast of lightning hits the field,
blinding him even as he shields his eyes with his hands. When he lowers his
arms, he sees that the figure is gone. "Do you think that was the thing Derek
warned us about?" he asks, leaning back on his elbows.
"I would guess so," Danny answers, pulling Isaac to his feet and checking that
his injuries are all healed before wrapping him up in a tight hug.
Isaac pats his boyfriend's back awkwardly. "I'm fine, Danny. Really," he says,
pulling back and planting a quick kiss on the Hawaiian's cheek.
"What do you think it meant when it said he'd be going after Derek 'and his
mate'? Derek doesn't have a mate... Does he?" Jackson asks curiously, stepping
closer to Boyd to offer a small sense of comfort when he notices the tall teen
wincing as he puts his dislocated fingers back into place.
"Not that I know of..." Cora muses. "Then again, we aren't really as close as
we were before the fire." She sees Erica looking intently at her feet, her
laser-like focus suspicious, and is about to ask what the blonde knows when she
is interrupted.
"We should tell Derek what happened," Isaac says, moving to gather up the
lacrosse sticks that are scattered across the grass. Danny helps him and, soon
enough, all of them are returned to the storage locker with the others. When
they step back outside, they find everyone else gathered in the parking lot.
"Let's go." They all hop into their respective cars and follow Isaac and Danny
to Derek's loft.
***** Abduction *****
When Lydia, Stiles and Noshiko pull up outside of Derek's building, Noshiko
exits the car immediately. Lydia moves to follow, but hesitates when she
notices her friend's reluctance. She notes the pinched look Stiles has around
his eyes, the way his hands are clenched together in his lap. "Stiles, it's
going to be OK. We'll get you through this," she assures, prying one of his
hands free and giving it a squeeze. "We've got Noshiko and Kira, remember?
They're Kitsune, so even if Derek isn't able to do much, we've still got them
to help you. Over nine-hundred years' experience ought to count for something."
She waggles her eyebrows, the smile she wears on her face widening when Stiles
smiles back.
"I know... I just can't help worrying about what'll happen if they can't help
me control this," Stiles says, releasing a breath as he mentally prepares
himself. "OK, let's do this." He follows Lydia out of the car. The two of them
stand there waiting for Scott, Noshiko having already entered the building.
They start to get antsy when, after several minutes, there still isn't any sign
of the crooked-jawed boy.
"I wonder what's taking him so long? He was right behind us a minute ago..."
Lydia muses from where she leans against her car, arms crossed over her chest.
One of these days, she's going to end up killing the unreliable beta for never
sticking to any plan.
Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe he got sidetracked?" he suggests, turning
away from the road and looking up at the tall building they stand in front of.
He tries to see if he can determine which of the large windows belong to
Derek's loft, but gives up when he sees that they all look exactly the same. He
gets nervous every single time he is near the place, knowing that the alpha is
close. He has to resist the urge to spend all of his time in the loft with
Derek, thinking that, if he gave in, the alpha would only end up getting angry
with him and kick him out. Having the older man be mad at him is the last thing
he wants, so he stays away unless he has a decent reason for being there.
"Whatever. He'll catch up. Come on, we need to talk to Derek," Lydia dismisses
eventually, pushing away from her car and heading toward the building's
entrance. She points her car keys behind herself and locks the vehicle before
swinging the ring they hang from around her index finger.
They enter the lift and press the button for Derek's floor, deciding that it
would take too long to use the stairs. They find Noshiko waiting patiently
outside of Derek's front door. Lydia looks at Stiles sadly when he lifts his
hand to knock, only to pause before he actually makes contact, hesitant. It's
another reminder of how much he's changed since the whole ordeal with the
Nogitsune. Before he lost control of his body, he would never have bothered to
knock, opting instead to just slide the door open without direct invitation,
the newly-formed friendship he had with Derek making him feel comfortable
enough to just walk in unannounced. He would always reason that the alpha
would've heard him coming anyway.
They hear footsteps behind the door before it opens, revealing Peter on the
other side. The man looks over the trio, his eyebrow raising in question when
his gaze lingers on Noshiko. "Well, to what do I owe this enormous pleasure?"
he asks pompously, rolling his eyes when Lydia just pushes past him
impatiently, dragging Stiles along behind her. He steps aside to allow Noshiko
entrance as well before closing the door when everyone is inside.
Lydia sits daintily in the middle of one of the sofas and pulls Stiles down
next to her on the edge closest to the door. She looks up when Peter stands in
front of them, an expectant look on his face. Rolling her eyes, she thinks for
a second, wondering whether explaining herself to the irritating beta is even
worth her time before deciding to be nice for once. "We have something
important we need to speak to Derek about. Where is he?" she asks, the fire in
her eyes giving away how desperate she is. Seeing Stiles do something so
unexpected has really shaken her.
Noshiko sits by herself on the sofa across from the two teenagers, placing the
book she brought with her on the coffee table with care. She is glad that she
doesn't have to hang around any of the pack that often, preferring to just stay
out of all of their talking and bickering unless it affects Kira directly.
She'd had a long talk with Derek once the pack looked like it was finally
getting settled, just to make sure the man was someone she didn't mind her
daughter spending so much time around. Luckily—and to her surprise—the alpha
turned out to be OK, quickly getting her seal of approval once she'd seen how
sincere he was about protecting everybody.
Peter crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side
contemplatively. He decides to get straight to the point when he sees a glint
in the banshee's eyes which clearly tells him that she won't put up with any of
his bullshit at that moment. "He left a while ago. I don't know where he went,
but he should be back soon; an hour is usually how long it takes him to get
over himself." He glances casually at his watch before ambling into the
kitchen. "Would anybody care for a beverage while they wait?" he calls over his
shoulder.
"Tea, please," Lydia and Noshiko respond at the same time.
"Nothing for me, thanks," Stiles mumbles, his tense body relaxing as Peter
disappears around the kitchen door to prepare the requested drinks. As much as
the eldest Hale has been accepted back into the pack—mostly out of deference to
Derek—Stiles still can't find it in himself to act normally around the beta.
Though Peter's insanity seems to have dissipated somewhat in recent months, he
still doesn't really like the man. He finds himself unable to forgive him for
harming Lydia the previous year, both when he was an alpha and attacked her on
the lacrosse field and when he used her in his plot for resurrection. His
feelings for the redhead may have shifted into a more platonic place after he
realised and accepted that nothing romantic would ever happen between the two
of them—the whole Jackson-Kanima fiasco helped to cement that fact—but he is
still outraged on Lydia's behalf that Peter would manipulate her like that. The
only reason he doesn't voice his opinions is because he knows how important
family is to Derek. Peter is one of the last remaining family members the alpha
has left—along with Cora—and if there's anything that Stiles understands, it's
the need for family.
Both Stiles' thoughts and the silence are interrupted when Peter comes noisily
back into the room, carrying a tray laden down with a teapot and three mugs.
Setting it down on the table next to Noshiko's book, he pours the water
carefully into the mugs, all of which have a string hanging over the rim from
the teabags that sit at the bottoms. He hands the two women their respective
mugs and sits back with his own clasped firmly between his hands, waiting for
the water to cool.
Lydia follows suit, while Noshiko leaves hers to steep on the table, the woman
preferring her tea stronger than average. The redhead glances around the room
to pass the time, feeling a little uncomfortable because of the tense silence
that has fallen over the place. She quirks an eyebrow when she notices that all
of Derek's birthday gifts are still piled up on the kitchen table, seemingly
untouched. She'll no doubt end up having to badger the alpha incessantly to get
him to actually use the gift certificate she'd given him.
"So, are you going to tell me why you're here or do I really have to wait for
my dear nephew to arrive to find out?" Peter asks as he sips his tea, one
eyebrow raised. He crosses his legs as he looks over the three guests more
closely, taking in the slightly dishevelled state of Stiles' clothes with great
interest. He winks at the boy when Stiles catches him looking, grinning at the
shiver the action induces.
"You're going to have to wait," Lydia replies sternly, taking a sip of her tea
as well. She suppresses the pleased noise that wants to slip out, not wanting
to give Peter the satisfaction of knowing that she's enjoying something he
made. "Sorry, but you'll just have to amuse yourself in some other way, I'm
afraid." A smirk appears on her face at Peter's indignant huff.
Noshiko shakes her head at the bickering pair.
"Good thing I won't have to wait much longer then, isn't it?" Peter replies
snarkily. "Here he comes now..." He finishes off the rest of his tea before
putting the mug back on the tray on the coffee table. He watches as the three
others all turn their heads to look expectantly at the loft's front door. It
slides open harshly as Derek enters.
Closing the door behind himself, Derek comes to a stop when he notices the many
unexpected guests in his living room, the alpha having been so lost in his
thoughts on his way up that he didn't sense their presence beforehand. "What
are you all doing here?" he enquires, his eyes skimming over Stiles and Lydia
before narrowing at Noshiko.
Peter smirks when he sees a flash of gold around Derek's neck, the necklace
Stiles had given him still hanging from it. From the look on Lydia's face, he
guesses that she has noticed it, too.
"We have some important news regarding Stiles," Noshiko responds. She watches
as Derek's eyes flick over to the boy in question before settling once more on
her. When the alpha doesn't move from his spot after a few seconds of silence,
she decides to continue. "After Kira told me about the handprint on Scott's bed
sheets when she got back from the veterinary clinic, I did some research of my
own on a hunch." She moves to open the book she brought with her. "After you
got the Nogitsune out of him, Stiles was left with residual powers, those of a
Fire Kitsune."
Derek's eyes widen as he turns to look at the pale teen. "But...how is that
possible?" he asks, shocked.
Noshiko flips to the pages she was reading from before and explains the story
of Akito Takahashi that she had told Stiles and Lydia back at the clinic. "At
the moment, these powers are only emerging at times when Stiles is in distress,
which could get dangerous. We've come to see if you can teach him some
control," she finishes, closing the book once more.
"Now that is interesting," Peter comments, peering intently at the boy sat
across from him. His amusement increases when he sees how uncomfortable his
gaze makes the teen. He only stops his intrusion when Lydia glares at him
aggressively, holding his hands up in submission.
"It is imperative that he masters his new gift as soon as possible," Noshiko
informs the younger Hale, resolutely ignoring the petty bickering going on
around her. "As I understand it, though it was an accident, Stiles already
injured an innocent man earlier today while out shopping with Lydia." She turns
a slightly judgemental eye on the teen.
Stiles sends a glare back. "Don't get me wrong, I didn't mean to do it, but I
would hardly call him innocent when he was trying to mug me and Lydia while
holding a knife to my throat," he snaps, his fists clenching in his lap with
anger. His eyes flash gold briefly before Lydia places a hand on his own to
calm him down. His eyes returning to their normal honey colour, he grimaces
when he realises how close he just came to losing control again.
"Well, in that case, I apologise; I didn't know that part," Noshiko accepts.
"But you see, Derek, this could very quickly get out of hand the second Stiles
loses control of his emotions. You saw his eyes just now. He can't be doing
these things in public or he'll end up outing all of us."
Derek nods before putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Don't
worry; I'll help in any way I can," he says consolingly. "I'd think it would be
pretty much the same as how I trained Erica, Isaac and Boyd: finding an anchor
and testing your limits with that anchor."
Stiles' eyes flick briefly up to Derek's face before looking down at his hands
resting in his lap. "Yeah, OK," he croaks. He is disappointed when Derek takes
his hand back, the warmth that had been seeping into his body through it
disappearing as well. He barely restrains himself from tilting to the side in
order to chase after it. "Thanks. When are we going to start?"
Before Derek can answer, he hears several sets of hurried footsteps coming up
the stairs outside. The door is thrown open as the rest of the pack burst
through it, each of them looking frantic. Derek and Peter are immediately on
edge when they sense the panic that emanates from the new arrivals.
"Derek, we have a serious problem!" Isaac cries, his face contorted in fear,
his body shaking. "We were just over at the high school, practising lacrosse,
when we were attacked by this weird apparition thing!"
The rest of the pack nods hastily behind the young beta. They enter the room
fully, Jackson pulling up the rear and closing the door again.
"Are you all OK?" Derek asks, guiding Isaac and the others to sit on the sofas.
Everyone ends up squished together uncomfortably. He glares at Peter until the
older man gets up from his seat with a put-out huff, leaving the space open for
Erica and Boyd to squeeze into, the blonde ending up sat in the boy's lap.
"Yeah, but I don't know what to do," Isaac says, looking up at his alpha with
pleading eyes. Cora and Danny both sit next to him and press their sides
together in an effort to offer comfort. He leans into Danny gratefully.
Derek watches the action, pride stirring in his chest when he sees how far his
pack has come. "What attacked you?" he asks after a moment, turning to face the
other betas and letting Isaac gather his bearings again.
It's Erica who speaks next. "I don't know what it was. I think it was a man,
but it looked like a shadow, like a black mass with no features," she says from
where she's curled around Boyd. "It was weird. We'd just finished a game when
we heard this laugh and the air started smelling like something rotten."
Derek recognises the scent from Erica's description as the one he kept finding
spread around the outskirts of the town.
"Yeah... Then this bolt of lightning struck the field and there it was,"
Jackson says from where he's sat next to Danny. "It was really powerful; it
knocked us all off of our feet and we ended up breaking several bones before it
practically strangled Isaac."
Derek moves to crouch in front of Isaac, lifting his chin gently with a finger
to inspect the boy's neck.
"I'm OK," Isaac reassures. "Physically, at least," he jokes weakly, his smile
coming off as more of a grimace. He doesn't want the alpha to know just how
much the encounter had really affected him, the choking in particular reminding
him of the many years he spent living in constant fear with his thankfully now-
deceased father.
Derek nods and goes back to standing in front of everybody.
"It had a message for you," Isaac says, taking his boyfriend's hand when Danny
offers it. "It said that, now you've got your pack sorted, you'd better be
ready, because it's coming for you."
Derek's brows furrow in confusion as he paces in front of the coffee table. He
doesn't like the sound of that and once again curses the town for being a
magnet for everything supernatural. He thinks their lives would be so much
easier without the near-constant threats of death. "Did it say anything else?"
he asks the group assembled on the sofas.
"I don't think so," Isaac says, nervously biting the nails of his hand not
currently held by Danny's.
"Yes it did!" Jackson exclaims suddenly, causing the room to startle. He smiles
sheepishly before continuing. "It said that it wanted you to put up a better
fight than 'last time'." Derek, Stiles and Lydia look at him incredulously,
causing him to shrug his shoulders. "It's what it said before it let Isaac go."
Derek casts back his mind and tries to think of a time when he's come across or
even heard of anything that remotely matches the descriptions he has been
given. He comes up with nothing. He is baffled by what its message could
possibly mean.
The whole room jumps in surprise when a clap of thunder vibrates the walls and
glass smashes to the floor, a bolt of lightning destroying the skylight that's
set into the ceiling above the coffee table. They all leap off of the sofas and
run to stand against the edges of the room, the wolves shifting their claws and
teeth out as they move to shield the weaker members of the pack. Stood on top
of the coffee table is the black shadow of a man that attacked at the lacrosse
field. The foul stench Erica described earlier fills the loft. The wolves growl
threateningly at the figure.
"Well, well, what have we here?" The voice echoes loudly around the loft, the
wolves having to cover their ears because of their sensitive hearing. "I was
expecting you to warn your alpha, but I have to say it is a nice surprise that
you'd make it so easy for me and all gather here so quickly to die."
This draws several more growls from the wolves.
Derek moves to stand protectively in front of Stiles. "You're not hurting
anyone today," he snarls, his eyes bleeding red in anger. "Not while I'm here."
The shadow hops down gracefully from the table and takes a couple of steps
forward. "Now, see, that's where you're wrong. You were no match for me before
and, while I pray that I am very, very wrong, I don't think you'll be any more
of a problem this time, even with your shiny new eye colour," it teases,
shaking a black finger at the alpha.
Derek lunges at the shadow, stumbling when he passes right through it. He
corrects himself and turns sharply, falling backward when he sees the shadow's
face is mere inches from his own. He is baffled at this strange turn of events
and wonders how many powers this new enemy could possibly still be keeping up
its proverbial sleeves.
"Care to try that again?" the thing says, splaying its arms wide in a taunting
show of confidence.
Derek swipes at one of the shadow's arms, his claws extended. He gasps when his
wrist is grabbed tightly by a third arm that seems to materialise from nowhere.
"I was hoping for better from you, Derek, I really was. You're actually doing
worse than last time, though that's probably because your mother isn't here to
bail you out now," the shadow sneers before bending Derek's arm sharply. A
sickening crack is heard throughout the loft, echoed by Derek's cry of pain.
The shadow shoves him away and he falls backward over the sofa, cradling his
broken arm as he waits for it to heal. "Anybody else want a go?" the shadow
questions, waving an arm at the rest of the pack.
Peter and Cora, incensed at the abuse of their family member and alpha, both
rush forward and attack in a flurry of claws and fangs. The pair are quickly
apprehended by another two of the shadow's arms, choking as they're lifted off
of the ground before being thrown across the room.
The shadow turns back to face the rest of the pack. Its head moves slowly and
the pack knows that if the figure had eyes, they would see them scanning along
the group. The shadow stops moving when it reaches Stiles. "Ah, you are an
interesting one, aren't you?" It moves so quickly that, in a blink, it is
standing directly in front of the human teen. When the pack moves to try and
stop it, the shadow extends a hand and they are blown off of their feet. "Now,
now, can't have you interfering, can we?"
Another hand reaches out and brushes almost lovingly across Stiles' left cheek,
causing the boy to recoil in fear, cowering against the rough brick of the
wall. "Don't be so scared, little one. I have big plans for you," it says,
delight clear in its voice.
"W-what do you want from me?" Stiles whimpers, his hands shaking at his sides.
His whole body quivers when the shadow chuckles.
The hand stroking Stiles' cheek turns flat as it palms his face. "Oh, just you
wait and see. It's going to be so exciting!" the shadow exclaims in glee.
"Get away from him!" Derek shouts as he barrels toward the enemy. He tries to
screech to a halt when the shadow seems to blink out of existence before he can
reach it, but he still crashes into Stiles, slamming the boy roughly into the
wall behind him.
Stiles gasps and cries out in pain when his head cracks against the rough
bricks.
"Oh dear, Derek," the shadow mocks from where it is once again standing on the
coffee table, "you hurt your mate! You really are a bad alpha, aren't you?"
The rest of the pack, still in the process of picking themselves up off of the
floor, are confused by that first sentence.
"Stop it!" Stiles screams, thrusting his hands out in front of himself. His
fear and anger channel through his palms and manifest in a stream of flame that
shoots directly at the shadow.
To avoid the fire, the shadow blinks to the other side of the room, causing the
flames to catch on the drapes in front of the large window that takes up the
entirety of one of the walls. It immediately spreads up the fabric. "I knew you
would be fun, Stiles," it taunts. "Don't worry, this isn't the end. I'll be
back for you." With this, it disappears in another clap of thunder and
lightning.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, his aching head spinning, Stiles' knees buckle and
he crumples to the ground. He hears someone screaming his name before his eyes
close.
                                     * * *
Scott pulls up outside of Allison's apartment block and locks his bike to one
of the railings next to the entrance. Instead of following Lydia and Stiles to
Derek's, he'd decided that it would be best if he got the huntress and her
father in the loop. He enters the building hurriedly and bypasses the
elevators, choosing instead to head up the stairs, his werewolf speed making
that the faster option. Reaching the Argents' front door, he raises his hand to
knock. When his fist connects with the wood, the door swings inward. He frowns,
tensing. Neither of the Argents would leave their door open so carelessly.
Moving warily, he pushes the door open the rest of the way before stepping over
the threshold. Scenting the air, he wrinkles his nose when he detects the faint
smell of rotting meat.
"Allison?" Scott calls, making sure to shut the door behind himself when he
fully enters the apartment. Receiving no answer, he walks down the hallway,
peering around the corner into the living room. He gasps when he sees the state
the room is in. Both the table and the sofa are overturned, the flatscreen is
smashed and broken glass and china litters the floor. Shifting into his beta
form in case he has to fight, he picks his way through the destruction, heading
for the bedrooms at the back of the apartment. A crash in one of the rooms
breaks him out of his caution. He races into Chris' bedroom and finds the man
sprawled awkwardly on the floor, unconscious. Falling to his knees next to the
hunter, he cups Chris' face in his hands when the man groans.
"Chris?" Scott asks, slapping his cheek lightly. He gasps in pain as
electricity suddenly runs through his body, convulsing as he falls sideways,
his eyes scrunched shut. When the tremors cease, Scott opens his eyes again to
see Chris sitting up next to him, an apologetic look on his face.
"Sorry, Scott. I didn't mean to hurt you," Chris says, lifting his hand to
display the modified taser clasped in his fingers. "You caught me by surprise."
Chris gets shakily to his feet, offering a hand to the beta. When they're both
standing again, Chris looks around, his stance strained, a laser-like focus in
his startlingly blue eyes.
"What happened?" Scott asks, biting his lip as he stares warily at the device
still clasped in the older man's fingers.
"I'm not sure. I was in here, reading after talking to Allison, when I heard a
loud noise coming from the living room. I was going to investigate when the
door flew open and then...nothing. I don't remember anything after that," Chris
answers. He moves over to the door and runs his fingers along the deep split
that runs down the entire length of the wood.
"Where's Allison?" Scott asks suddenly, worry clear in his voice.
Chris looks at the beta with wide eyes before rushing into his daughter's
bedroom. "Allison?!" he calls out, pushing the door open harshly. He stops dead
when he takes in the state of the room, his eyes landing on the thick, red
lettering that is painted on the wall above the bed:
'GOOD LUCK FINDING HER'
***** Guilt *****
The first thing Stiles becomes aware of is someone shouting his name. He
doesn't know why.
"Stiles!"
The second thing he notices is that a pair of hands are roughly gripping his
face. As he feels his body come back to him, he is surprised to find that he's
lying on the ground, the cold from the bare stone seeping through his back and
making him shiver. He wonders how he ended up down there.
"Stiles, wake up!"
He recognises that voice. It's Lydia's voice. Stiles pushes through the last
remnants of unconsciousness, squints his eyes open and immediately sees Lydia's
own green pair staring back, her face hovering just inches above his own.
"Lydia?" he croaks, confused. Sitting up and taking in his surroundings, his
eyes widen at the scene that greets him: the majority of the loft is up in
flames while Peter, Cora and Jackson battle them, waving fire extinguishers
around liberally. He would find the flailing of their normally graceful limbs
to be funny if the situation weren't so shocking. The sofas and coffee table
are scorched near-black and the curtains are no more than lines of ash running
along the bottom of the windows. The rest of the pack and Noshiko are stood a
few feet away, huddled close together as they look on with expressions of shock
on their faces.
Lydia's hand slides into Stiles' and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles
slightly as his head spins, the sudden movement jarring. He winces when his
ribs protest the movement and prods at his side delicately, inspecting the
damage. Flinching slightly when another hand grips his arm, he looks up and
sees Isaac standing next to him, black veins crawling up his arm as he leeches
his pain. "Thanks, buddy," he says, reaching up hesitantly, expecting his side
to protest the movement. When he feels nothing, he ruffles the beta's hair
affectionately, making Isaac smile shyly before moving back to stand next to
Danny.
The sounds of the fire extinguishers hitting the floor ring throughout the room
as Peter, Cora and Jackson finish putting out the flames. The majority of the
damage in the room is now in stark contrast to the thick layer of white that
eradicated the flames. This gives Stiles the impression of being stuck in the
middle of an old black and white film. Lydia's hand still gripping his pulls
him along to stand closer to the rest of the pack, who are still gathered in
the corner least affected by the destruction.
"What the hell happened?" Stiles asks warily. He thinks he already knows the
answer, but he needs to know for sure. Anxiety quickly floods his system when
every head in the room turns to him, the feeling increasing when he sees the
mixture of judgement and pity in everybody's eyes. No one seems in a hurry to
give him clarification.
After what seems like hours of silent staring, Noshiko is the one to finally
speak up and answer Stiles' question. "It seems that the need for you to master
your new abilities is much more important than we originally thought," she
explains, her arms wrapped protectively around the ancient book she had brought
with her. She is thankful that she at least managed to save it, the tome being
exceptionally valuable in terms of both sentiment and price. Her eyes hold the
most judgement, but when she notices Lydia glaring in her direction, she
swiftly masks it and plasters on a neutral expression in hopes of defusing the
tension.
"Oh..." Stiles says lamely as he shuffles his feet nervously. He is extremely
disappointed in himself and the old feelings of inadequacy that drowned him
after the Nogitsune seem to come back at full force. He wonders briefly why the
pack even still puts up with him.
Isaac easily senses where Stiles' mind has gone—his dark past with his abusive
father giving him an intimate grasp on those trains of thought—and the curly-
haired wolf bumps a fist gently against the shorter teen's shoulder to offer
some assurance. "It's OK, dude. I'm sure Derek won't hold this against you," he
says, happy when his words seem to perk Stiles up a little bit.
"Incidentally," Noshiko says, breaking the two teens out of their staring
contest, "you should try to figure out where Derek has run off to so you can
start training with him as soon as possible." With that, she walks confidently
across the room, her nose high in the air, and exits through the loft's sliding
door.
Lydia shakes her head dismissively. "I'm still not sure what to make of that
one..." she mutters, forgetting that Kira is still in the room and within
hearing distance. She quickly apologises when her words earn her a reproachful
look from the other girl.
At Noshiko's words, Stiles looks over the group and is worried when he doesn't
find Derek standing amongst them all. "Where is Derek?" he asks, his concern
evident in the shaking of his voice. It seems unlike the alpha to not be
present after such a huge calamity has occurred, especially when it involves
him directly. He thinks for a second that perhaps the alpha didn't react well
to his home being destroyed before Cora answers him.
"He sort of...ran out when the loft went up in flames," the youngest Hale
explains, confirming Stiles' theory. "I still don't think he handles fire that
well..." She trails off and winces in sympathy when Stiles looks down at his
feet in shame. She understands her older brother's reaction completely, the
thought of fire not one that instils good feelings in her either. She thinks
that it must affect Derek even more than her, though, as she doesn't remember
too much about the fire that burned down their old home in the preserve. She
was too young at the time to be able to recall many details about the event
itself or the months that followed. She doesn't even know how she ended up with
an unfamiliar pack in Mexico instead of staying with Derek, Laura and Peter.
Lydia feels Stiles tense up where he stands beside her and squeezes his hand
where it still rests in hers. "Any ideas on where he could have gone?" she
enquires, turning back to face the rest of the pack. Though Derek has become
slightly more open in recent months, she still doesn't know enough about the
alpha to be able to hazard a decent guess about where he would go during times
of great distress.
"I have one," Peter pipes up from where he stands leaning against the wall,
uncrossing his arms from his chest. "He doesn't exactly have many places he
would go when he's scared and, since this is the second of his homes that has
gone up in flames—no offence, Stiles—I would say that this would bring back a
lot of bad memories. The old Hale house would probably be a safe bet. His mind
works in mysterious ways." He turns Stiles and Lydia around by their
shoulders—Stiles flinching at the rough treatment—and marches them to the door.
"Why don't you two go and see if he's there and the rest of us will try and
think of other places he could be if I turn out to be wrong, hmm?"
Stiles looks at Peter in confusion for a second before nodding hesitantly. He
steps awkwardly away from the man and is relieved when the action achieves its
desired effect, Peter dropping his hand back to his side, breaking their
physical contact. He stares at the eldest Hale warily for another couple of
seconds before allowing Lydia to lead him down to the parking lot outside.
"OK, now that they're gone, does someone want to explain to me why that thing
kept saying that Stiles is Derek's mate?" Jackson asks impatiently, one eyebrow
raised. He crosses his arms testily as he waits for an answer, his disgruntled
expression shifting into one of suspicion when he sees everybody still left in
the room exchanging guilty looks. "Well?" he demands, stomping his foot on the
floor childishly.
Erica is the only one with the courage to answer, Peter not counting since the
irksome beta couldn't care any less. "Um, you see, we've sort of known that
Stiles and Derek have had feelings for each other for a while now," she says,
everybody else nodding in agreement. "Lydia, Allison and I had actually made a
plan to try and get them to get over themselves and get together already after
we threw that party for Derek, but it wasn't going that well."
The rest of the pack looks surprised at this, Kira and Cora because they were
not included in the plan and the boys because they can't believe the three
girls would be so manipulative.
"What?!" Jackson squawks, indignant. He can't believe that something that is
apparently so obvious that even Boyd can pick up on it managed to go unnoticed
by himself. He berates himself silently. His belief that he is one of the most
intelligent and observant members of the group takes a major hit. "How long
were you going to keep this to yourselves for?" he demands, eyebrows scrunched
up in anger.
"Jackson, calm down," Danny quickly consoles from where he stands with his arm
around Isaac's shoulders. The years of friendship he's had with Jackson allows
him to quickly sense an impending blowup and he hastens to stop it before it
can fully materialise. "We weren't keeping anything from you; we thought you
knew. It's obvious to anyone with half a brain. If it makes you feel any
better, I don’t think Scott knows either." He winks.
Jackson glares at Danny halfheartedly before rolling his eyes and shaking his
head in defeat. "So what were you three planning to do?" he asks Erica, his
head tilted to the side quizzically. The action is one that is becoming more
and more common among the male betas, Scott's predilection for it no doubt
rubbing off on the others.
"Well, in those pictures that I took, one of them was always in the background
staring at the other, all lovey-dovey," Erica answers, still looking at Jackson
guiltily. "After Lydia confirmed our theory that they liked each other—she
knows everything, after all—we were going to try to get them alone together as
often as possible to see if anything would actually happen. We’ve only managed
to pull it off once so far: yesterday, when Lydia rushed you out of here after
the pack meeting while Stiles was in the bathroom."
The pack nod along to her explanation, each of them deciding that they, too,
will try to get Derek and Stiles to admit their feelings for each other. Isaac
and Danny share devious grins.
"As great as all of this is, what do you say we move it outside?" Peter
requests with a yawn from where he now stands in front of the door with his hip
cocked. "The smell of burnt fabric is really irritating my nose..." He nods
approvingly as everyone trails out grudgingly—Peter sliding the door shut
behind them—and makes their way down the stairs to the outside. The only cars
in the parking lot belong to the pack, Derek being the only tenant in the
building. His Camaro sits conspicuously in the furthest corner.
"So what are we going to do about the loft?" Danny asks, leaning against his
car. He knows that the space has some bad memories attached to it, provided by
both the alpha pack and the Nogitsune—he is incredibly thankful that he wasn't
in the loop when those two things happened—but he also knows that many good
ones also took place there, the several pack nights he has been a part of being
among them.
"Well, Derek might want to repair it as much as possible and stay there still,
but in all honesty it would probably just be easier if he finds a new place,"
Peter answers, examining his nails in boredom. "I don’t even know why he
settled on this loft in the first place; it’s not very appealing and it’s not
like he's short on money." He would have much preferred his nephew to have
forked out the expense for a more opulent place of residence, but he knows that
Derek's tastes have always ventured more in the realm of simplicity.
Everyone scoffs at this commentary, expecting nothing less.
Isaac takes particular offence to Peter's words, not liking anybody disparaging
Derek since the alpha was the one that saved him from his father's torment by
offering him the bite. "Maybe Derek just doesn’t feel the need to surround
himself with overly lavish things to overcompensate like you do for your many
shortcomings, Peter," he sneers, nose turned up in disdain.
Peter chuckles at the curly-haired beta. "Fair enough. I will admit that I
don’t know him quite as well as I did before the fire. The first fire, I mean,
not the one that just destroyed his loft," he finishes with a smirk. "I must
say, Stiles is turning out to be even more fascinating that I originally
thought..." He thinks back to what he remembers of that first night in the
woods when he'd killed Laura. His memories are slightly hazy from being so out
of it, but he wishes now that he was more cognisant at the time and that he'd
bitten Stiles instead of Scott. It would have saved him a lot of trouble.
"Don’t you dare try anything with him, Peter!" Isaac threatens, eyes narrowed
in distaste. "As you already know, what’s happening to him was brought on by
something horrible and he doesn’t need you or anyone else giving him shit for
things that are beyond his control. Got it?" He points a finger at the man
menacingly. He surprises even himself with how protective he has become of
Stiles lately.
Jackson nods his head in agreement, backing his packmate up. "Isaac's right,
Peter. I may not be Stilinski's biggest fan, but I know more than anyone what
he must be going through right now and he'll be feeling guilty enough without
you adding to it with little quips like the one you made back up in the loft."
While he is doing a lot better now—helped along greatly by Lydia and Derek—he
still remembers how he felt for the first month or two after he turned back
from being a kanima; the weight that killing people puts on your shoulders,
even if it was against your will, is a heavy one.
Peter holds his hands up in surrender, a playful smile still on his lips. "Hey
now, don’t get snippy with me. I want to satiate my curiosity about his
newfound powers, but I promise I mean Stiles no harm." The whole group huffs in
disbelief, causing him to chuckle once more. "Honestly, I know I’ve not exactly
been a model werewolf in the past, but my murdering spree was just a bout of
temporary insanity, I swear. There’ll be no more bloodshed by these claws," he
says, puffing his chest out.
Isaac bats away the clawed hand that Peter waves in his face. "Anyway," he says
pointedly, "regardless of whether Derek wants to keep the loft, where is he
going to stay in the meantime? I still don’t think Scott's mom is that fond of
him, so he can’t stay with Scott and I."
"He’ll be staying with Stiles, of course," Erica states confidently, tucking a
blonde curl behind her ear. "The plan is still on, pyro powers be damned. Those
two are going to get together if it kills all of us."
                                     * * *
Stiles stares at the burnt-out remains of the Hale house from where he sits in
the passenger seat of Lydia’s car, biting his bottom lip in trepidation. The
drive from the loft had been one taken in silence, Stiles far too nervous to
speak and Lydia focusing on the road in front of her. He'd spent the entire
time trying to bolster himself up, to give himself more confidence to confront
Derek and accept whatever harsh words he thinks the alpha will inevitably be
shooting his way.
"Are you going to go in or what?" Lydia asks eventually, leaning her elbow on
the steering wheel and resting her head in her hand. "Stiles, we’ve been
sitting here for five minutes already and you still haven’t moved an inch." She
can feel the anxiety filling the interior of the car and she guesses that if
she were a werewolf, she would feel even more stifled by it. As it is, her
banshee powers allow her a deeper insight into Stiles' feelings and she can
clearly see how worried the boy is, even though he's doing his best to hide it
and is actually succeeding for once, at least outwardly. When Stiles continues
to just stare out of the front windshield, she sighs in exasperation before
unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. She walks around to the
other side, intent on giving her friend a firm kick in the ass to finally get
him moving.
Before Stiles knows what’s happening, his door is opened harshly and he is
yanked forcefully through it. Lydia drags him several feet before releasing her
hold on his flannel shirt, smoothing out the fabric before stepping away.
"Go!" the redhead orders, pointing at the front door of the Hale house and
narrowing her eyes, daring Stiles to disobey her.
After unleashing his best puppy dog eyes does nothing to melt Lydia's stern
gaze, Stiles bows his head in defeat. "Mean..." he mutters, the girl's snort
letting him know that she managed to hear his comment. He trudges up the front
steps and stares at the door for a minute, looking over the linear symbol that
is still painted on its surface from the alpha pack's arrival. Flapping his
hands at his sides to shake off whatever nerves he can rid himself of, he
pushes the door open gently. It squeaks ominously as it swings inwards on its
rusted hinges.
"Derek?" Stiles calls out quietly, knowing the alpha will be able to hear him
if he is there like Peter thought. "You here?" He steps cautiously into the
entranceway, wondering as he has done every time he’s there how the place is
even still standing. The walls are all charred black and he cringes as he notes
that he has pretty much reduced Derek’s loft to the same state. The first thing
he sees is the staircase leading to the second floor. The stairs look as if one
misstep on them will send him tumbling back down to the bottom. He makes his
way through the entire first floor, poking at the furniture left in what was
once the living room and rifling through the drawers in the kitchen. Several
photo frames are still perched on the mantle above the fireplace, covered in
ash. Wiping a finger across the glass of each one reveals the photos within to
be missing.
When he completes his circuit of the first floor, Stiles haphazardly climbs up
the dilapidated stairs onto the second. Having never ventured up there before,
his curiosity gets the better of him and he steals lingering glances around
each of the rooms he pokes his head into, unsurprised but disheartened to see
the sparse amount of furniture and personal artefacts that still litter the
floor are all destroyed, in most cases unrecognisable. He is about to chalk the
whole thing up to a dead end before he sees he still has one last room to
check, the door partially hidden in the shadows at the end of the long
corridor. He comes to a stop in front of it and notes that, unlike all the
other doors on the second floor, it is pushed closed instead of being wide
open. He rests a hand on the blackened surface.
"Derek?" Stiles calls out again, this time with more conviction, as he pushes
the door open. It swings inward to reveal the burnt-out husk of a four-poster
bed. He is relieved when he sees that Derek sits perched on the edge of the
dust- and dirt-covered mattress, hands curled in his lap, head bowed. He thinks
the theory of the alpha rushing out of the loft in a panic must have been right
as he takes in the state of the man's clothes. The alpha is clad in just a worn
pair of jeans and a tight Henley, his leather jacket nowhere in sight. His
shoes are scuffed and filthy with ash. Stiles takes hesitant steps forward
until he stands in front of the older man before reaching out and placing a
shaking hand on Derek’s shoulder.
Derek’s head snaps up at the contact, his hazel eyes wide with shock when they
land on Stiles. "What are you doing here?" he asks, body still as stone. He is
surprised that the teen was able to sneak up on him. He supposes that he was
too far entrenched in his own thoughts, causing his other senses to be blocked
out. It's a dangerous state to allow himself to slip into, given the current
situation. "How’d you know where to find me?" Stiles' hand hasn't left his
shoulder. He stares at it curiously.
Noticing where Derek's gaze is now focused, Stiles hastily retracts his hand
and instantly misses the firmness and warmth he had felt under his palm. "Peter
thought you might be here," he summarises, feeling incredibly awkward now that
Derek's attention is focused on him. "I’ve been sitting outside in Lydia’s car
for five minutes trying to work up the courage to come in and see if he was
right..." He trails off awkwardly, breaking eye contact and looking down at his
feet. "Why are you here?" Minutes of silence fill the room and he is starting
to think he isn't going to get a response when Derek finally answers.
"This...this is where I come to get away from it all," Derek explains, shifting
to the side slightly to make room when Stiles moves to sit beside him on the
bed. "I know it might not make much sense, given that it’s pretty much
destroyed, but I still kind of think of this place as home, you know? It calms
me down if I get upset." This reasoning sounds flimsy even to him, and he
stares straight ahead so he doesn't have to see Stiles' reaction.
"It doesn’t sound that strange to me," Stiles disagrees, staring unabashedly at
Derek's profile. "I think that, when I eventually get out of this town and move
somewhere else, I’ll still think of my dad’s house as my home because that’s
where I grew up with my mom and Scott..." He moves to stare at his hands in his
lap. "There’s still a stain on one of the kitchen walls from when Scott and I
started a food fight at dinner one night. I remember when my mom walked in and
found us; I was so sure she was going to start yelling, but she just laughed
and actually joined in. She helped us clean up afterward, but that stain has
been there ever since."
Derek looks over at Stiles when his voice cracks at the end of the last
sentence. He empathises, knowing how difficult it is to talk about loved ones
that are no longer alive.
"I’m so sorry for what I did to your loft," Stiles chokes out, his shoulders
starting to shake as tears drip onto his hands. He tenses up when he feels a
hand on his back, his brow furrowing in confusion when, instead of the pain he
was expecting, Derek starts rubbing up and down in a comforting gesture. He
exhales sharply and tilts his head back, squeezing his eyes shut in a vain
attempt to stop his crying. "I don’t understand... You should be yelling at me
right now. This is the second home you’ve had that’s practically burned to the
ground and this one is all my fault. You should be threatening to rip my throat
out with your teeth or something!" When Derek’s hand moves to his face and a
stray tear running down his cheek is wiped away by the alpha’s thumb, he looks
at the werewolf in bewilderment.
Derek smiles reassuringly, understanding and affection the only emotions
present in his eyes. He cups Stiles’ face in his palm. "I don’t blame you in
the least, Stiles," he promises, caressing the boy's cheekbone with his thumb.
"You’re new to your powers and just haven’t learned control yet. It wasn’t your
fault. Besides, we were getting our asses handed to us by that...thing. If you
hadn’t done what you did and chased it off, who knows what might have
happened."
Their conversation is interrupted by Lydia’s booming voice echoing down the
hall. "What is taking you two so long? I’ve been stood outside for twenty-five
minutes waiting for you guys!" Her voice gets louder until the door is shoved
open as the girl marches into the room. She quickly takes in the scene before
her and immediately berates herself for interrupting what looks to be a very
intimate moment and possibly setting back the two boys' progress.
Derek hastily snatches his hand back from Stiles’ face as soon as Lydia enters
the room and stands. He coughs awkwardly. "Yes, we really should get going..."
he mutters, stepping quickly past Lydia and over to the door.
"So, are you going to help Stiles?" Lydia questions, trailing after the alpha
with one eyebrow arched. She is satisfied when Derek nods his assent, chasing
after him when he flees the room.
Stiles hears their bickering voices fade away downstairs as he stays sitting on
the bed. He brings a hand up and touches his cheek, confused at how gentle
Derek had been.
***** Control *****
Scott races frantically on his bike across town to Derek's loft. He left Chris
back at the hunter's apartment, the older man saying he would call up some of
his old contacts and try to come up with some leads as to what knocked him out
and took Allison. Pulling up outside the alpha's building, he is puzzled to see
the whole pack stood in the middle of the parking lot. After pulling off his
helmet, the overpowering smell of smoke reaches his nose and he has to suppress
the urge to cough. He hops off his bike and immediately grabs Kira in a tight
hug, his chin tucked over her shoulder.
"Scott?" Kira asks worriedly, raising her hands and patting her boyfriend
awkwardly on the back. His sudden appearance is a welcome one, but it also
leaves her confused as to where he had been during the events that just
transpired in the building away from which she now faces.
"Something happened to Allison," Scott explains, his voice slightly choked from
both restrained emotion and the stench of smoke. Kira immediately tenses up in
his arms and everyone but Peter closes ranks around the pair instinctively, the
older beta choosing instead to remain outside of their huddle and observe. "I
was heading over to their apartment to get them because I thought they should
know about everything that's going on. I don't know what happened, but when I
got there it looked like a tornado had been through it or something. Chris was
knocked out and Allison was nowhere to be found." He shifts, releasing Kira
from his hold, and pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket. "This message was
above her bed. It's written in blood."
The group gasps collectively as they all lean in to look at the red text
displayed on the screen. The phone is passed around the group as everyone takes
a closer look, even Peter.
This reminds Scott of earlier that morning, back in Deaton's office, when he'd
been showing everyone the scorch mark that appeared on his sheets the previous
night. It seems like such a long time ago now, even though it happened just a
few hours before. As Cora hands the phone back to him, he frowns when he
catches a whiff of smoke clinging to her clothes. A quick sniff in the
direction of the others yields similar results. "Why are you all just stood out
here?" he enquires, head tilted in his typical puppy-like fashion.
"Stilinski kind of trashed Derek's loft," Jackson answers easily, a smirk
appearing on his face when Scott's mouth drops open in shock. "Yeah, you've
missed a lot, Scotty boy."
Erica takes it upon herself to deliver the hard smack to the back of Jackson's
head that Lydia would no doubt have given herself had she been there. His
resulting affronted expression makes both Erica and Cora giggle loudly. He
grumbles to himself as he rubs his head.
"I've always known this couldn't last much longer," Peter comments from the
back of the group, causing everyone to turn and face the older wolf. He rolls
his eyes. "It's been far too quiet these past few months; something new was
bound to show up sooner or later to wreak havoc on this little town. It picked
today to do just that." When all he gets is a blank look from Scott, Peter
sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes again before continuing. "We have a
new enemy," he deadpans. "Some black thing with supposed connections to Derek's
past that has lots of arms that can throw us all around infuriatingly easily."
"It attacked us on the lacrosse field first before coming for us all here a
little while ago," Isaac expands, taking over from Peter when he senses the
older Hale's increasing frustrations at Scott's unchangingly bewildered
expression, not wanting this to turn into another unnecessary fight. "We'd just
finished explaining the warning it had for Derek when it came crashing through
the skylight. When it tried to go after Stiles, he used his new powers to try
and stop it and accidentally nearly burned down the whole loft."
Scott shakes himself out of his stupor at the mention of his best friend. "Is
that why this place and all of you stink of smoke?" he asks, getting a series
of nods in return. "Alright, where is Stiles now?" He becomes worried when a
cursory glance over the group reveals that Stiles isn't among them; he doesn't
know why he didn't notice before. He finds that Derek and Lydia are unaccounted
for as well.
"He went with Lydia to look for Derek, of course," Peter states, the derision
in his voice apparent. "Our alpha kind of freaked. Fire, you know." He waves a
hand dismissively in Scott’s direction. "My dear nephew is going to attempt to
teach Stiles some semblance of control."
"What are we going to do about Allison?" Kira asks, leaning into Scott's side.
"Chris is calling some of his friends to get help and to see if anyone can give
us some useful info," Scott explains, wrapping a protective arm around Kira's
shoulders. "As for us, unfortunately, I don't think there's much we can do
except increase our patrols of the town and try to look for where this thing
took Allison." He doesn't know why, but with Derek not around he feels a strong
sense of leadership wash over him, giving him the confidence necessary to doll
out instructions, at least until their alpha is there to take over again. He is
satisfied when everyone readily agrees with his plan of action, the betas
quickly forming smaller groups as they get ready to go out searching for their
missing packmate.
Once everyone is clear on what areas they'll be covering, they make to separate
into their respective cars. They pause, however, when they notice that Peter is
not among any of the groups and look back to where the troublemaking beta is
still stood in front of the building.
"Aren't you coming?" Scott asks, both hoping that Peter will say 'yes' so
they'll have more manpower to help their quest and also hoping that he'll say
'no', not wanting to have to put up with his sour attitude for an extended
period of time.
"I think I'll sit this one out," Peter says disinterestedly. "As much fun as
hanging around a bunch of whiny teenagers would no doubt prove to be, I have
better things to be doing. Happy hunting!" He waves at them all as he reenters
the building, leaving everyone confused and annoyed.
They shake their heads at Peter's actions and head off.
                                     * * *
"We'll use one of my family's old training rooms," Derek says as he leads
Stiles and Lydia out behind the old Hale house and toward the entrance to the
tunnels that run beneath it.
Stiles follows Derek as the alpha descends the steep steps going down, Lydia
trailing behind them. The darkness that seems to seep from every corner,
combined with the odour of rotting wood, helps to sufficiently creep Stiles
out. He wraps his arms around his torso as a shiver rips through his body. The
place is everything he imagined it being. After Scott rescued Derek from Kate
on the night both she and Peter died—the woman's decision to imprison her
manipulated ex-lover beneath the place where most of his family burned alive at
her hands making Stiles detest her even more than he already did—the beta had
described in vivid detail how disgusting the place was. He thinks Scott
couldn't have been more right, though he is surprised that several of the
lights running along the walls are still functioning, at least enough so he can
see where he's going. He smiles meekly back at Derek when the alpha throws what
Stiles assumes is meant to be a reassuring smile at him over his shoulder.
"I wish I'd brought a jacket... It's freezing down here," Lydia complains,
rubbing her hands up and down her arms to try and warm herself up.
Stiles pauses at this and lets the girl catch up to him before wrapping an arm
around her shoulders. She smiles up at him gratefully. Walking ends up being a
tad awkward, his usual clumsiness not at all helped by having a second set of
feet to trip over instead of just his own.
Derek watches the whole ordeal out of the corner of his eye, deeply amused, and
ends up laughing uproariously when Stiles steps accidentally on Lydia's toes.
She shrugs angrily out from under the other teen's arm and the boy sputters out
profuse apologies until she declares herself to be fine and marches on ahead,
obviously deciding to just put up with the cold instead of potentially losing
the use of her feet.
They travel deep into the tunnels—Stiles becoming more and more amazed at how
big the place seems to be all the while—turning corner after corner until
Stiles is sure that, if he didn't have Derek there to guide him out again, he
would get lost and end up starving to death. Finally, Derek guides them off of
what he thinks is one of the main corridors and they step into a large room
that holds nothing but a few wooden boxes, several folded up blankets and a
decrepit-looking sofa that sags deeply in the centre. The room is relatively
dark, the only light sources being the two dirt-covered bulbs that hang from
the middle of the ceiling. Lydia breaks off from Stiles and Derek and, after
tossing the sofa a look of deepest disdain, covers one of the boxes at the edge
of the room in a blanket with an elegant flourish before perching atop it,
watching the other two with interest.
Stiles' attention is pulled back to Derek when the alpha speaks.
"The first thing we've got to do is to figure out an easy way for you to
trigger your powers. After that, then we’ll start looking for your anchor,"
Derek says. He stands in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, biceps
bulging obscenely.
Stiles can do nothing but stare and nod dumbly at Derek's words. He hears Lydia
sniggering from behind him and shoots a glare back in her direction.
"OK, let’s start simple," Derek continues, walking behind Stiles and
positioning the teen so that he faces one of the bare brick walls, keeping his
hands resting on his shoulders the entire time. A shoddy, makeshift target is
tacked on in the middle. "Try and think of something that makes you angry.
Maybe it’s something threatening your dad, something happening to Scott or even
something as simple as one of Jackson's little taunts." He gives Stiles’
shoulders one last squeeze before relinquishing his hold and stepping back.
Lydia coughs pointedly behind him and he turns to see that he's blocking her
view. He steps aside so she can watch, too.
Stiles stands in place, his body stock-still, hands clenched. He lets himself
miss the warmth of Derek's hands for a second before running through the events
of the last year in his head, all the times they’ve been in danger, close to
death, all the people and creatures that have wanted to obliterate everything
and everyone he loves. His breathing picks up as his system floods with anger
and his hands unfurl at his sides. Raising them, he marvels as his palms begin
emitting a pale, golden glow, manifesting his building rage. Facing his palms
toward the target on the wall, he focuses the energy he feels coursing through
his veins and tries to push it out through his hands. He thinks he feels
something happening and gets excited, but that excitement is quickly
extinguished when nothing comes and the glow begins to fade.
Huffing out a breath of frustration, Stiles ponders over what could have gone
wrong, eventually coming to the conclusion that what he was thinking about must
not have been potent enough. He feels like Harry Potter trying to conjure a
patronus for the first time.
Derek is about to step forward and make some more suggestions to Stiles when
Lydia strides past him, beating him to the punch. He watches in confusion as
she leans in close to Stiles and whispers something in his ear, so quiet that
even Derek's enhanced hearing can't pick out any words. Stiles' eyes flick to
meet his briefly before Lydia pats the boy on the back and makes her way back
to her seat. Before she can sit down again, however, he intercepts her with a
hand around her arm. "What did you just say to him?" he asks, releasing the
redhead when she gives his hand a scornful look, eyebrow raised. He apologises,
knowing that his curiosity caused his grip to be more firm that he intended.
Lydia runs a hand over the pinched skin of her arm to soothe the ache that has
settled there. "Relax, Sourwolf. I just gave him a suggestion that I thought
might move this along," she replies evenly, smirking when Derek's bemused
expression morphs into one of exasperation at the nickname.
"Don't you start calling me that, too!" Derek whines pathetically. "It's bad
enough when Stiles says it..." He turns his attention away from Lydia, rolling
his eyes and refocusing on Stiles as the teen prepares to try again to get his
powers to work.
Lydia pats Derek's shoulder consolingly. "Is it though? You don't fool me,
Mr.," she teases, winking when her words make her the recipient of what she
would call a rather constipated expression. The day's events have only helped
to heighten her resolve about getting Derek and Stiles together. It's a miracle
that no one in the pack has gotten seriously hurt or died yet from the many
trials they've experienced and enemies they've overcome. She wants to see the
two oblivious boys happy together before their track record has a chance to
change.
Derek is stopped from responding by a bright flash of light. He turns his head
back around sharply to see what's left of the target on the wall float
pitifully to the ground, a large hole now in the centre that still burns
slightly around the edges. His eyes track back to where Stiles stands with his
hands outstretched once more, breathing heavily. Using his powers is obviously
something that takes a lot of energy out of Stiles; he thinks that tackling the
teen's lack of stamina should definitely be the next thing they focus on.
"I guess my idea was right," Lydia says smugly, causing Derek to jump. "You
should really just put me in charge of everything, you know. You'll get faster
results that way."
Derek waves off Lydia's comment and moves to stand beside Stiles, who is
staring with wide eyes at the scorch mark now branded on the brick wall. "Well
done! You even managed to hit the target," he compliments, grinning. His
amusement grows when the only response he gets is a slow nod. "What was it you
thought about?" he asks, wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders in a half
embrace when the boy seems to sag. He barely restrains the contented rumble
that wants break free from his chest when he feels the slimmer body lean
slightly into his hold.
Stiles looks down at his feet before answering. "I'd rather not say just yet,
if that's OK," he mumbles quietly, very much enjoying the close proximity of
his and Derek's bodies but doing his best to hide it. From the glint in Lydia's
eye, he knows he's not doing a very good job.
Nodding his head in acquiescence, Derek squeezes Stiles' shoulders before
releasing him and stepping back imperceptibly. "Of course. Just as long as you
remember it and manage to use it to help you keep control," he instructs, arms
crossed once more. "Usually, when a new wolf finds something they can use to
intentionally trigger their shift, that same thing can be used to maintain
control when they feel it slipping. I'm going to assume the same can be said
for you and your powers."
Stiles makes a faint noise of understanding and looks back up at the wall. "As
long as what happened at your loft doesn't happen again, then I'm cool," he
admits. "I guess the only thing we should be worrying about now is why that
thing was after me. It can't be for anything good." He shivers again as he
recalls being face to face with the black creature, the event reminding him of
being forced into submission by the figure wrapped in bandages that still
haunts every one of his dreams.
"Incidentally," Lydia's voice breaks them both out of their reverie and reminds
them that they're not alone together in the room, "I want to know what it meant
when it said that it hoped you would put up a better fight than 'last time'."
She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow in Derek's direction.
Derek frowns as he contemplates their newest adversary's warning. "I have no
idea. Today is the first time I ever remember coming into contact with anything
like that..." He runs a hand absentmindedly over the stubble that frames his
face. Of all the memories he can recall of the many times his mother would tell
himself, Laura and Cora stories of opponents she or their ancestors had
defeated, in none of them does he remember ever hearing of anything that
matches what they currently face. After he comes across several fuzzy parts in
his memories throughout the years, as well as the odd spot that just seems to
be gone entirely, he is about to voice a harebrained theory when Stiles beats
him to the punch.
"Can't alpha's do that memory thing with their claws?" Stiles asks, not liking
the baffled and slightly defeated expression that has appeared on Derek's face.
"It mentioned something about your mom not being there to bail you out. Maybe
she did something to make you forget whatever might have happened between the
three of you?" he suggests, wincing in empathy when the alpha's frown deepens.
"Maybe..." Derek admits, not liking the possibility that his mind has been
messed with, no matter by whom. "I don't see why she would do that, though,
especially if she knew that it wasn't dead. I remember how she thought; she
would have wanted to keep me in the know so I would be better prepared to
defend myself if it ever came after me again." He is brought out of his
thoughts when Stiles shuffles closer to him again, brushing their arms together
in a sign of solidarity.
Stiles smiles reassuringly up at Derek. "Whatever the reason, we'll figure out
what we have to do to take this thing down. We've come this far; I don't think
we'll be defeated now." He slips his hand in Derek's for a second and squeezes
before moving away again.
Lydia rolls her eyes at the two oblivious boys from where she stands several
feet away before fixing them on Stiles. "You seem to be feeling better," she
observes, theorising that his closeness with Derek no doubt has something to do
with the mood change. "I think this is the most I've heard you speak
voluntarily in months!" She raises a curious eyebrow at the other teen in a
silent demand for acceptable clarification.
Stiles shuffles his feet nervously. "Yeah, well, after what...happened a couple
of months ago with the Nogitsune, even after it was gone I still didn't really
feel like me, you know?" he mutters, the subject still one he finds incredibly
uncomfortable. "And then these powers show up," he waves his hands in the air
dramatically, the flailing almost hitting Derek in the face, "and it was like
the small semblance of control I'd managed to get back was torn from me again.
I think finally learning to control them has given me some part of that back."
Both Derek and Lydia nod pensively at Stiles' explanation, the redhead glancing
at the older man and seeing a look of deepest affection plastered across his
face as he stares at Stiles. She smirks, knowing the plan she made earlier in
the week with Allison and Erica is working, however slowly. "Well, I'm glad
you're finally starting to feel better. You had us all worried there for a
while!" She claps Stiles lightly on his back before heading over to the doorway
to exit the room. She looks back at her two companions expectantly when they
don't immediately follow. "If you don't mind, I'd very much like to get out of
this place and breathe some fresh air again, so hurry it up."
Derek once again takes point as they weave their way through the many corridors
of the underground complex. Stiles' nerves grow when the lights lining the
walls start flickering intermittently, briefly drowning the place in absolute
darkness and ramping the eeriness up to a whole new level. He walks a step
closer to Lydia.
"It's alright," Derek assures when he senses the teen's mounting fear. "It's
just the generator running low on fuel. I'll need to remember to bring some
more with me the next time I come down here..." He says the last part to
himself.
When they get back outside, Lydia and Stiles bid farewell to Derek, the alpha
declining their offer of a ride and claiming instead that he wants to go for a
walk through the preserve to clear his head. They drive back to Derek's
destroyed loft, Stiles feeling increasingly worn out. When they pull up outside
the building, they find the parking lot is deserted.
"Hmm, we probably shouldn't have bothered coming back here since everyone else
seems to have decided they're done for the day," Lydia thinks out loud, pulling
up the parking brake. "I guess there isn't really much else we can do until
that thing attacks again." As soon as she finishes speaking, Peter walks out of
the building's doors, pausing when he sees them sat there in the car. He tucks
something into his back pocket before strolling over and knocking on the
passenger side window, making Stiles jump.
Lydia hits the switch to roll down the glass and huffs contemptuously when
Peter rests his arms upon the rim. "What are you still doing here, Peter?" she
asks impatiently, ready to follow her friends' leads and go home and tuck
herself into bed.
"Oh, nothing much," Peter smirks, winking at Stiles when the boy leans away
from him warily. "You did miss the new information Scott had for everyone while
you were off training, though. Apparently, our new friend has taken it upon
itself to start abducting members of my dear nephew's pack. Miss Argent was the
first casualty, as Scott discovered earlier. You should have seen how frantic
the poor boy was when he raced over here right after you left." He tuts with
concern that both of the car's occupants know is fake.
"Wait, Allison is missing?!" Lydia cries, devastated.
Stiles' reaction to Peter's words is somewhat less animated as he makes a
conscious effort to not let this new turn of events make him lose control
again. He clenches his hands in his lap as he reins in his panic.
Peter nods his assent. "Yes. It left a lovely little message wishing you lot
good luck in finding her, written in what looked to be blood." He surveys the
parking lot briefly before looking back through the window. "Everyone else has
already left to begin the search for her. You should join them; I'm sure
they'll appreciate the help," he advises, winking one last time at Stiles
before standing up straight again and disappearing into the thick trees that
run along the side of the complex.
Stiles watches Peter go, distaste clear in his eyes. "So, did you want to start
looking?" he asks, turning back to face Lydia and secretly hoping that she'll
say 'no'. He feels guilty for not instantly leaping to try and help find
Allison, but the day has just left him feeling so exhausted that he knows he
won't be much help until he is able to rest up again.
Lydia gathers her emotions before answering carefully. "I think I should," she
starts, turning her keys in the ignition and starting the car. She throws
Stiles a worried look as she pulls out of the lot. "No offence, but you look
like shit. You should get some sleep; you really look like you need it. I'm
gonna take you back to your Jeep so you can go home."
They stay quiet on the drive back to Deaton's clinic, not even turning on the
radio to break the silence. The pair say their goodbyes quickly—the setting sun
taking the day's heat with it—before Stiles hops out of Lydia's car and into
his own. He drives back to his house, relieved when he sees his dad's police
cruiser still sitting in the driveway when he turns onto his street. Locking
the Jeep up behind himself, he hurries through the front door and finds his dad
sitting in the living room, watching something on the television while nursing
a glass of whiskey.
"Rough day?" John says when he sees Stiles, his eyes immediately honing in on
the substantial bags that sit underneath his son's eyes.
Stiles nods in confirmation, leaning down to give his dad a hug. "Yeah, it
really was," he says simply. He sighs when his dad raises an eyebrow, obviously
expecting a proper explanation. "I'll tell you tomorrow, I promise. I'm too
beat to go over everything right now. I just want to sleep." He is incredibly
grateful when his dad waves him off after a stern look—one that Stiles has come
to know as his we-will-talk-about-this-later look—and trudges up the stairs,
heading straight to his room and flopping down on his bed. Not even bothering
to strip out of his jeans and shoes, he lets unconsciousness claim him.
***** Invasion *****
- Sunday, January 15th, 2012 -
Walking out of the grocery store the next morning, Jackson curses as his arms
begin to go numb from the several heavy bags he carries in his hands. After he
spent the remainder of the previous evening looking on in amusement as most of
the pack—lead by Scott in Derek's absence—ran around like chickens with their
heads cut off, they'd all given up for the day when darkness had enveloped the
town. Lydia had joined himself, Erica and Boyd in searching through one half of
the preserve, with Cora, Scott, Isaac and Danny taking the other half. His
group had stumbled upon Derek midway through the search and informed him of
Allison's kidnapping. The alpha had immediately sent them all home to rest up,
claiming he would continue searching long into the night without them.
Jackson curses the obscene amount of townspeople currently plaguing the
checkout lines. They made the wait to pay so much longer than it ever needs to
be. He spends the walk to his car on the other side of the parking lot thinking
up creative ways to get his revenge on Lydia for making him come out there in
the first place. The girl had been too busy making sure each strand of her hair
was curled to perfection to retrieve the items she supposedly desperately
needed 'right this second' herself. He weaves through all of the other people
and vehicles until he finally reaches his own. After dumping the bags down
angrily in front of his car's trunk, he rummages in his pocket, in a hurry to
get out of the cold of the early morning. He spares a brief thought for the
more fragile items he just practically threw at the ground—serves Lydia right,
he thinks petulantly—before making a noise of triumph when his fingers close
around the cold metal of his keys.
Hitting the unlock button, Jackson opens the trunk aggressively. He freezes
when he catches a whiff of the foulest stench he can imagine. The smell is so
disconcerting that it takes a moment for his brain to register that it's a
familiar one and even longer to put two and two together and remember why he
knows it. Whipping his head from side to side in case the black figure is in
the immediate vicinity, he hurriedly shoves Lydia's shopping in the trunk and
slams it closed. Fishing out his phone, he sends off a quick text to everyone
in the pack before beginning to track the scent, not pausing in his pursuit
when his phone chimes incessantly, alerting him to what are undoubtably
messages telling him to wait until he has backup. The scent leads him out into
the preserve. It easily overpowers the natural smells of the forest and he has
to fight the urge to cover his nose as his nostrils vehemently protest the
odour. He marvels not for the first time at how the entire town seems to be
surrounded by the dense trees.
As he treks deeper through the preserve, Jackson is surprised when he realises
that all he can hear are his own footfalls and the sound of his breathing. The
new knowledge rattling him greatly, he comes to a halt in the middle of a small
clearing and just listens, straining his ears for any sign of the wildlife that
usually inhabits the place. His efforts fail to give him even the faintest
rustling of leaves to which the hours of training there under Derek's watch
have accustomed him. Thinking that maybe the presence of whatever the thing is
he's chasing has scared away all of the woodland creatures, he supposes that
going after it alone may not have been the best idea. Sure enough, taking his
phone out and checking the many texts that flash up on the screen tells him
that everyone else warned him of the same thing.
Jackson takes several paces back, intent on retracing his steps and returning
to the grocery store parking lot to wait for backup—he very much doubts the
thing will attack in public—before the horrid smell intensifies and a dark
cackle sounds through the clearing, reverberating amongst the trees until it
seems like it comes from every direction. Looking desperately from side to side
in search of the sound's source, he jumps as something sails through the air
next to his ear and lodges itself deep in the trunk of a nearby tree. The sound
adds to the laughter in such a way that the worry of becoming deaf flitters
briefly through his mind. When the laughter stops abruptly, he turns cautiously
toward where the unidentified object flew and steps up to the tree. Closer
inspection reveals it to be a ring dagger like the ones he has seen wielded
many times by Allison.
"Do you like my present?" a voice calls out from behind Jackson, on the other
side of the clearing. It's deep and full of humour and immediately sends
shivers down the beta's spine. "I got it from a friend of yours."
Jackson jumps in shock and whirls around, dagger now in clawed hand, a growl
rising in his throat as the black figure that attacked the pack in Derek's loft
the day before emerges from its hiding place. It doesn't make a sound as it
steps closer and he notes with intrigue that the dust and dirt on the ground
isn't disturbed in the slightest by its footfalls. The darkness that shrouds
the figure swirls around it in an impenetrable mist.
"You know, the girl really made it so easy for me to capture her. Fighting with
a simple dagger of all things..." It chuckles again while shaking its head.
"So, will you be any more of a challenge, I wonder? Let's see..."
The words send a thrill through Jackson and he prepares to defend himself.
Before he can strike first and get what he hopes will be the upper hand, his
adversary disappears in a puff of black smoke. He blinks in confusion, his
surprise leading him to make the mistake of letting his defences down for a
brief second. That small timeframe is all the thing needs to best him. He feels
a puff of air hit the back of his neck and spins around in a panic. When all
that greets his eyes is darkness, the figure standing so close that it obscures
all else from his vision, the wolf slashes out with his hand in an futile
attempt to defend himself and gasps in surprise when the dagger cuts through
the black mass in front of him as if it wasn't actually there. The weapon
blinks out of existence, leaving his hand empty. When he goes to pull back his
arm from where it still hangs within the darkness, he is dismayed to find that
he can't move it at all.
The thing 'tsk's disparagingly. "I guess not... Such a disappointment. I
thought you were supposed to be the feisty one." It rests one of its hands atop
Jackson's head. "I think it's time for you to go, too."
Dread grips Jackson when he feels himself begin to lose his autonomy. He makes
one last effort to stop his defeat before his knees crumple and he falls to the
forest floor with a thud, unable to move anything but his eyes. The green and
yellowed leaves of the trees above him are all he is able to see as he stares
up at the sky. Even that view is soon obstructed by his enemy leaning over him
in what he wouldn't hesitate to call curiosity. He glares at what he supposes
is the thing's face until it moves away again and he feels hands grip him
around his hips.
"Now then," Jackson hears the thing mutter, "let's get you out of here before
your friends show up and ruin everything."
The next thing Jackson knows, he is lying on cold concrete in a dark room. He
looks at his new surroundings as much as can when he is dragged across the
floor and propped up against one of the walls. His wrists and ankles are
subsequently shackled with heavy chains. The way the metal irritates his skin
lets him know that it is infused with wolfsbane, making escape near-impossible
even if he was able to move so much as a finger. Now that he is sitting, he is
able to see more of the room—his preternatural eyesight allowing him to see
clearly even in the darkness—and he is both shocked and relieved when he sees
Allison on the other side, bound to the wall with ropes.
                                     * * *
"So Jackson texted you the same thing?" Lydia asks worriedly from where she
sits in the driver's seat of her car. She had been putting the finishing
touches on her makeup in her bedroom when her phone had gone off where it
rested next to the pillow on her bed. She had ignored it, thinking the text
would probably just be Jackson asking her more questions about which brand of
foundation he was supposed to buy—the asshole can figure it out for himself,
she'd reasoned—until the device had beeped several more times in quick
succession. She'd huffed in frustration and quickly finished applying her
lipstick before getting up from her seat in front of her vanity mirror and
stomping over to the bed. Her eyes had widened in surprise when she read the
first text. It was from Jackson like she'd thought, but instead of the passive-
aggressive complaint she'd expected, her mouth dropped open as she read about
how he was going to go chasing after their mysterious enemy by himself.
A quick look through the rest of the texts revealed the rest of the pack must
have received similar messages. The last one was a short group text from Derek,
telling everybody to meet up immediately so they could go after the idiotic
beta.
"Yeah," Erica replies, glancing over at the redhead in concern when she sees
her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. "It said that he smelled the
thing that attacked us yesterday and that he was going after it on his own."
She had been with Boyd when she'd gotten the message, making out heavily. The
vibrating of her phone had interrupted them before they could get to anything
good.
"He's such an idiot," Lydia criticises as she turns onto the road on which
they'll be meeting the rest of the pack. "If he gets himself captured, I'm
never forgiving him." She sighs in exasperation as she stops the car on the
edge of the preserve and clambers out through the door. The rest of the pack
pull up one by one behind Erica and herself on the edge of the road, Stiles’
Jeep bringing up the rear. Once everyone is out of their cars, they all gather
in a small circle.
Isaac shifts restlessly from foot to foot, his jacket pulled tightly around
himself as if the garment can ward off the fear he feels building. "I can
definitely smell it was here..." he murmurs nervously. He smiles gratefully at
Danny when the other wolf slips their hands together and squeezes reassuringly.
"Alright, we don't know where Jackson went in here and he's not replying to
anyone's texts. We need to comb through the preserve until we find him," Derek
instructs from where he stands at the head of the group. His eyes drift to
Stiles. The teen stands awkwardly in between Scott and Kira, hands shoved in
the pockets of his threadbare chinos. "I know this area better than anyone, so
I'll take point."
When everyone moves to go through the trees, Lydia clears her throat
indignantly. She rolls her eyes when everyone turns to look at her with
bewildered expressions on their faces. "We need a better plan than that!" she
exclaims, her predilection for being in charge coming out in full force. "We
should split up into pairs, a buddy system of sorts so that, if anyone runs
into trouble, they're not caught alone."
Derek nods in agreement at her suggestion, but before he can begin assigning
everyone into pairs, he is interrupted again. He sighs, crossing his arms and
resting his chin against his chest, resigned to letting the banshee take over.
He reasons that he's only allowing it because her irascible boyfriend is
potentially missing.
"Since Peter has deigned himself too important to deal with potentially missing
pack members, I'll go with Cora," Lydia says, stepping to stand next to the
youngest Hale. "Erica and Boyd, Isaac and Danny, and Scott and Kira will also
be paired together. Stiles can go with Derek." She nods approvingly as the pack
shuffle into their designated pairs, Stiles somewhat reluctantly. She feels a
little bad about forcing her friend into what will probably turn out to be an
uncomfortable situation, but she knows it'll be worth it in the long run if
Stiles and Derek can finally get their heads out of their asses and admit that
they like each other.
"I could swear I was the alpha here..." Derek mutters, his ears turning pink
when Lydia raises one perfectly arched eyebrow in his direction. He coughs and
looks away, shifting uneasily. "All right, let's get to searching!" he
commands, flashing his eyes red briefly to reiterate his earlier point.
Lydia sighs and shakes her head in disapproval before moving to catch up with
Cora.
Checking over his shoulder to see if Stiles is following him, Derek splits off
from the rest of the pack as they all enter the preserve. His joy about being
paired with the boy is eclipsed by his worry for his first and most vexatious
beta. The alpha in him is crying out in anger at having its pack threatened
once more and he has to restrain himself from giving into the urge to go off on
a rampage, tearing through the entire town until he uncovers wherever their
adversary is hiding its two victims.
Stiles trails awkwardly behind Derek as they make their way through the trees.
The sounds of the other pack members fade away as they all gradually fan out in
different directions, noses and eyes alert. He wraps his arms around his torso
in an attempt to fight off the cold assaulting his slight frame, barely
suppressing a whine when the action doesn't produce its desired effect. He
definitely regrets rushing out of his house as soon as he got Jackson's text,
forgetting to grab a jacket in his haste. Walking in the clothes he'd shucked
on tiredly that morning, another night of nightmares leading to a severe case
of exhaustion, he is knocked out of his thoughts when he collides with Derek,
not having noticed the older man come to a stop.
"You're cold," is all Derek says before shouldering off his signature leather
jacket and holding it in front of Stiles' face. The garment offers him little
respite from the low temperature of the area anyway, the higher-than-normal
temperature of his body allowing him to be reasonably unaffected by the cold.
When Stiles just looks at the jacket in confusion, he huffs with impatience and
flings it over the slightly shorter boy's shoulders before going back to
searching for Jackson.
Stiles stands frozen in amazement, his arms threading themselves through the
leather sleeves of their own volition. He pulls the jacket closer to his body
before setting off after Derek again, grateful when the residual heat from
Derek's body that still clings to the garment begins seeping into his own.
"Thanks," he says belatedly when he falls in step beside the alpha, a small
smile appearing on his lips at finding himself ensconced in Derek's scent. He
laughs quietly to himself as he realises just how many habits he’s picked up
from the pack during the many months spent running around with them, the closer
attention he pays to different smells just being one of them.
"No problem," Derek replies succinctly, his discomfort at being the recipient
of any form of praise or gratitude flaring up again and leaving him with a
severe disinclination to participate in conversation. They don't speak any more
as they trek deeper into the forest, Derek occasionally calling back
affirmatives to other pack members.
The first couple of times the alpha does this baffle Stiles until he realises
that he must just be unable to hear whatever it is the alpha is replying to.
"Do you think Jackson's been taken, too? Like Allison?" he asks after a while,
breaking the silence. As much as he doesn't get along with the dirty blond
wolf, he wants to get the contentious boy back as soon as possible so that
Lydia can stop worrying. His friendship with the girl has lead to him being
around Jackson for extended periods of time, much to both of their dismays.
"If he has, then I'm definitely going to make sure to kick his ass for going
off alone when we get him back," Derek answers, the slight waver in his voice
betraying how concerned he actually is about his beta. He wonders to where the
scent of the black figure has disappeared. They aren't too far from the grocery
store where Jackson had said he first came across it, but it is nowhere to be
found now.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. We'll find him and Allison, get rid of whatever that
thing is, and you'll be back to hiding behind snark and your expressive
eyebrows to mask how much you really care about us all in no time. You'll see,"
Stiles assures, smiling and clapping a hand clumsily on Derek's shoulder in
camaraderie.
Derek narrows his eyes playfully in response. "I hope you're right," he says
before scoffing suddenly in derision and shouting a sarcastic, "You're not
being obvious at all, guys!" to his right. He hopes his words shut up the other
pack members he can hear giggling a short distance away, Isaac and Danny poking
fun at his and Stiles' interactions and suggesting that he should stay at
Stiles' house so they can just fuck and get it over with already.
"What was that about?" Stiles asks in bewilderment. He wonders what could have
possibly been said to elicit such an extreme reaction.
Derek shakes his head. "It's nothing; I'll tell you later," he says, hastily
resuming their search in hopes that Stiles will drop the topic. He breathes a
sigh of relief when Stiles accepts his deflection and trails after him.
They walk for a little longer until Derek stops suddenly. Stiles looks back at
the man with worry when he sees the expression on his face. "What is it? Can
you smell it?" he asks, moving to stand in front of Derek. His heart rate picks
up when the alpha nods and calls out for everyone to gather. The sounds of
heavy footsteps soon reach Stiles' ears, announcing the pack's advance. Soon,
everyone stands in a circle around Derek and Stiles, the wolves' noses
scrunched up in disapproval of the smell that assaults them.
"It's coming from over there," Derek announces, pointing a finger toward a
cluster of trees that stands a short distance ahead. "Come on."
The betas part to allow Derek in front as they make their way toward the
stench. Stiles threads an arm through Lydia's when he notices the look of
thinly veiled concern on her face. She squeezes his hand gratefully, a barely-
there smile appearing when she takes in the new addition to Stiles' wardrobe.
The trees break into a clearing. They all stand, on edge, and look around
cautiously, noticing what look to be fresh scuff marks in the dirt. No one
speaks as they take everything in.
The silence very quickly gets on Stiles' nerves. He breaks off from the rest of
the pack and steps carefully around the edge of the trees, hoping that perhaps
seeing things from a different perspective will provide answers about what
happened there and about Jackson's current location. He is the first to speak.
"What's that?" he asks, striding over to the trunk of one of the trees to run
his finger along a deep line carved into the bark. He looks to his right and
sees another on the next tree over. He is baffled and runs over the many
possibilities as to what could have made the marks. When he hears several gasps
from behind him, he turns around and sees the pack standing in the middle of
the clearing with looks of horror on their faces. "What?" He gulps nervously
when Erica just points behind him. He moves to stand beside them and his mouth
drops open.
Carved deep into the trees is a message that only becomes readable when Stiles
is stood far away from the words:
'TWO DOWN. WHO'S NEXT?'
"Oh..." Stiles mutters, shoulders slumping in defeat.
They all jump when Lydia screams out, "Damn it, Jackson!" as tears pool in her
eyes. She starts crying uncontrollably and Erica wraps her up in a tight hug.
The rest of the pack stands around the two awkwardly, unsure about how they can
help. Lydia's sobs are the only noises in the clearing for several minutes,
everyone else not wanting to speak and break the tension. Eventually, the
redhead's crying tapers off into light hiccups and she pulls away from Erica's
embrace. She looks one last time at the taunting message before turning on her
heel and marching back toward the cars. The pack trail after her, hushed
discussions about what to do about the second abduction breaking out now that
Lydia seems to be over the worst of her breakdown. When they exit the preserve,
they split off into their respective cars.
Stiles sits dejectedly in the driver's seat of his Jeep and watches as everyone
clambers back into their own vehicles. He winces in sympathy when he sees Lydia
looking out of the left window in the backseat of her car, wetness still
flowing down her cheeks. Erica's arm is thrown consolingly around her shoulders
while Boyd sits in the front and pulls the car back onto the road. When
everyone else has gone, Stiles pulls Derek's jacket more securely around
himself, turns on the ignition and prepares to head back home as well. Before
his foot comes down on the pedal, however, the Jeep's passenger door opens and
Derek climbs in.
"I thought you'd left already," Stiles comments, brow furrowed in confusion as
he stares at his new companion. Sitting in the Jeep with Derek reminds him of
the time he had gotten his head smashed into the steering wheel after making
one too many sarcastic comments. They've come such a long way.
"I was going to head back to the loft and get some of my things, but that
bastard had a particular interest in you yesterday, so...I thought it would be
best if I stick with you until we can find out what it wants with you," Derek
explains as he fastens his seatbelt. He looks pointedly at the road when Stiles
doesn't react.
"...Good thinking," is all Stiles can think to say as he reverses and drives in
the direction of his dad's house.
"Plus, I need somewhere to stay until I find a new place and everyone
volunteered your house. That's what I yelled about earlier," Derek says
quickly, deliberately looking out of the window so as to avoid Stiles'
reaction.
"Well, that was nice of them," Stiles mutters, silently both looking forward to
and dreading spending so much time around the alpha.
Derek sneaks a glance at Stiles when he hears the note of uncertainty in the
teen's tone. "That's OK, right? I mean, I'm sure I can find somewhere else if
it makes you uncomfortable."
"Don't worry about it; it's fine," Stiles assures, winking to cover up his
inner turmoil. "And I'm sure my dad won't really mind either, now that he knows
you're not a murderer," he adds when he pulls the Jeep to a stop next to the
police cruiser in front of his house. They both climb out and make their way to
the front door. Stiles goes to put his key in the lock when Derek's hand shoots
out and stops it.
"It's been here, too," Derek says, his voice and body tight with tension. "Let
me go in first." He takes the key from Stiles and unlocks the door. It creaks
ominously as it swings open.
They step into the living room, Stiles bringing a hand to his mouth when he
takes in the scene before him. Glass litters the floor from smashed picture
frames; the lamps are on their sides and the sofa is overturned; several bloody
handprints are splattered across the walls.
"Stiles..." Derek trails off, grabbing the teen's hand and staring, eyes wide,
at the message smeared above the fireplace:
'AND THAT MAKES THREE'
***** Duplicity *****
"Stiles?" Derek asks worriedly, noticing the small hitches in the human's
breathing that experience has taught him are usually precursors to a panic
attack. Gearing up, he prepares to bring Stiles through the other side of it,
but before he can so much as take a step toward his companion, he is surprised
to hear that the rapid beating of Stiles' heart is lessening, no longer
assaulting his sensitive hearing in its more sedate pace. His eyebrows raise
when he sees a look of steely determination settle itself across the slightly
shorter man's face. "Stiles?" he asks again.
"Allison upset me and I even managed to feel bad for Jackson when he
disappeared, too. But my dad?" Stiles seethes, his hands balled up into fists
at his sides. "That's just going too far. If this thing's objective is to make
me want to rip its head off and burn its body to ashes, then mission
accomplished." His eyes flick over to meet Derek's; the wolf is both shocked
and a little frightened at the amount of rage he sees burning in their depths.
"Get the pack over here. We need to end this before anyone else goes missing."
Derek is left staring after Stiles as the teen turns and heads up the stairs to
the second floor. Fumbling his phone out of his trouser pocket, he sends off a
series of texts telling everyone the latest development and to get their asses
over to Stiles' house ASAP. Satisfied when everyone responds almost
immediately, he slips his phone back inside its home and flips the sofa into
its rightful position before taking a seat, waiting. He hears Stiles puttering
around upstairs, the tap running in the bathroom and drawers opening and
closing in the bedroom. He turns his head in the direction of the stairs again
when the sound of their creaking reaches his ears.
Stiles walks back into the living room and sits in the middle of the sofa,
right next to Derek, dressed in clean clothes.
A small, satisfied smile twitches into place on Derek's lips when he notices
that Stiles is still wearing his leather jacket over his new ensemble. Their
thighs rest together when Stiles leans back into the cushions.
"Did everybody get back to you?" Stiles asks after a lengthy silence, his gaze
remaining on the message on the wall in front of them.
"Yes. They should all be here in a couple of minutes," Derek answers, bumping
his knee against Stiles’ when the boy does nothing to show he heard his
response. He is rewarded by Stiles sending a small smirk his way, his eyes
holding a glint of deviousness.
"Careful, Sourwolf; you wouldn’t want me to think you were actually trying to
cheer me up now, would you?" Stiles teases, a small chuckle escaping his lips
when Derek quickly turns his head away, the tips of his ears turning pink like
they had in the preserve. The companionable silence that follows is a welcome
change from the awkwardness that hung in the air before their small exchange.
He has just begun tapping out a made-up rhythm on his knee with his fingers
when the loud noise of Scott’s bike cuts through the quiet. "Here we go."
The front door opens, Scott’s familiarity with his best friend’s house
eliminating the need to knock first. He steps over the threshold, Kira hot on
his heels, and stops dead as he takes in the state of the living room.
"Oh, Stiles..." Kira breathes, pushing past Scott and immediately pulling the
sitting teen in question into a hug.
When they separate, Scott steps around to the front of the sofa to try and
gauge what sort of state Stiles is in. He’s surprised when he sees not even a
little panic on his friend’s features. The way he's sitting so close to Derek
makes him think that the alpha must have something to do with it. A few minutes
later, the rest of the pack filters in—Peter is once again not with them—and
everyone gathers in a semicircle facing the message above the fireplace.
Stiles, Derek and Kira are the only ones not standing.
Stiles looks over everyone’s faces, taking in the darkness and tightness in
their expressions. The wolves' noses are all scrunched up in distaste, their
heightened senses of smell easily picking up the traces of their enemy's stench
that the human noses miss. The black makeup smudges and the puffiness of
Lydia’s face make the girl look particularly sullen, the usually fiery redhead
not having had time to put herself back together before Derek’s text popped up
on her and Erica’s phones.
"Now that everyone's here and obviously up to speed, we seriously need to come
up with some sort of plan to stop this thing, or at the very least stop anyone
else from going missing," Derek says from his position next to Stiles.
"But how are we supposed to stop it if we don't even know what this thing is?"
Erica asks, her arm linked with Lydia's.
"I was actually thinking about that while we were waiting for you guys to get
here," Stiles speaks up, a hand placed in contemplation on his chin. "We need
to know what we're dealing with, right? Well, when it attacked us in the loft,
it said it knew Derek from before; he just doesn't remember." He turns to the
wolf in question before continuing. "Where did your mom's claws end up?"
Derek blinks his eyes in confusion before answering. "Uh, they should still be
at the loft. Why?"
"Well, if what we were talking about yesterday turns out to be the case, then
this thing must have done something so bad that your mom saw no other option
than to take your memories," Stiles explains. "We need to get them back so we
know what we have to work with."
The rest of the pack nod their heads in approval at this plan.
"I think that's as good a plan as any..." Derek admits. "I guess the first
thing I need to do is recover my mom's claws. Luckily, I kept them upstairs, so
they shouldn't have been damaged in the fire." He stands and makes his way
through the kitchen to the back door. He stops when Stiles calls after him,
turning and finding the human craning over the back of the sofa so he can see
Derek through the doorway.
"Make sure you really want to go through with this, Derek. I know you've
already been through a lot of terrible shit and come out the other end OK, but
whatever happened must've been awful, so you need to be sure you're ready to
re-experience whatever it was." Stiles' eyes are filled with concern, his brow
scrunched up.
Derek's face softens. "I'll be fine, Stiles. I have you and the pack to help
now if things do get rough." He sends a reassuring smile at the teen when his
expression doesn't change. "As for everyone else, just stick to that buddy
system we set up at the preserve earlier; don't go anywhere alone. Scott and
Kira? I want you two to stay with Stiles until I get back." With one last
lingering glance at Stiles, he walks through the door.
Pair by pair, the rest of the pack give words of comfort to Stiles about his
dad before departing for their respective homes, leaving him alone with Scott
and Kira. The two watch as Stiles makes his way through to the kitchen, the
doorway just big enough to allow them to see as he begins rummaging in the
cupboard underneath the sink. His head pops up briefly every now and then as he
pulls out various cleaning supplies and throws them carelessly onto the island
behind him.
Shutting the cupboard doors again, Stiles stands back up, clutching an old
bucket and a pair of rubber gloves in his hands. He quickly slips the bucket
into the sink and turns on the tap, filling it with warm water.
"Stiles? What're you doing?" Scott asks, bewildered, when the human walks back
into the living room.
"Cleaning this mess up," Stiles answers simply, setting the bucket and cleaning
supplies down near the fireplace before waving a hand in the direction of the
message on the wall. He goes back into the kitchen and returns dragging the
large dustbin behind himself. The mirror frame that used to hang above the
fireplace now lays empty in the middle of the floor. He picks it up and rests
it haphazardly against the wall before making a start at collecting up the many
mirror shards that litter the area, throwing them all in the bin as he goes.
Kira smirks when she hears Scott's stomach rumble. "I'll make us all something
to eat, OK?" she says before standing and practically skipping into the
kitchen.
Once Kira is in the other room, Scott gets up from his seat on the sofa and
kneels down next to Stiles, helping him clean up the mess. "So...I meant to ask
earlier, but with Jackson going missing and now your dad, the timing didn't
really seem right... I can't help but notice that you're still wearing Derek's
jacket," he comments. When Stiles freezes in his cleaning and looks up at him
with his eyes narrowed, he knows his casual tone has done nothing to mask how
curious he really is about the subject.
"It was cold in the preserve and Derek noticed me shivering, so he lent it to
me," Stiles says slowly after a pause, his narrowed eyes still trained on Scott
to gauge his reaction. When the wolf just stares impassively back, he huffs in
annoyance and carries on picking up the mirror shards, resigned to wait for the
numerous questions that years of being friends with Scott lead him to believe
are still coming. Out of the corner of his eye, he can practically see Scott
pump himself up in preparation to ask the next one.
"So, what exactly is going on between you two? You seem awfully buddy-buddy
with him lately..." Scott trails off, internally cringing when a hint of
jealously sneaks its way into his voice, causing Stiles to frown in confusion.
He looks away in embarrassment and pauses in an attempt to choose his next
words more carefully. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I like him well enough now
that he's not being a dick to everyone anymore and, even though he took his
sweet time doing it, I think he's grown to be a fairly decent alpha... I just
don't get it, you know?" When he finishes, he looks back at Stiles and is
surprised to see his friend looking back at him with a mix of disappointment
and a little anger.
Stiles drops the shard he's holding back to the floor and rests his hands on
his knees. "First, while I appreciate the concern, Scott, I don't think it's
really necessary. Yes, me and Derek have gotten a lot closer over the past few
days, but I think it makes sense that we'd gravitate toward each other because
everyone else in the pack already has strong connections to other people. Lydia
and Jackson; you, Kira and Allison; Danny and Isaac...you're all closer to each
other than you are to anyone else in the pack, understandably so. Derek and
Cora aren't really that close anymore and the less said about Peter the
better." He takes a breath before continuing. "We've been best friends since we
were kids, Scott, and I know you still love me like a brother, but come on! You
have to admit that we've grown apart substantially in this last year or so,
ever since you became a wolf and got Allison and then Kira."
Scott opens his mouth to protest but is cut off when Stiles raises his hand.
"I'm not blaming you or them, or anyone, really," Stiles hastens to add. "I'm
just stating the facts. Second, it's not really fair to judge Derek on his
competence as an alpha from the past. Yes, when we first met, he was cold and
had his walls up, but let's not forget the reason he had those walls in the
first place: Kate. She took advantage of him and had his whole family killed in
the process, purely for who he was. Can you tell me that if someone killed
everyone you loved that you'd be all sunshine and rainbows?" When Scott looks
down, chagrined, he pats his friend consolingly on the shoulder. "Plus, he was
never supposed to be an alpha anyway. You were there when Cora and I talked
about this and I know you were listening in. Laura was always supposed to take
over from their mom, not Derek, which is why the power transferred to her after
their mom died in the fire.
"He was expected to stay a beta, so he was never trained and it was never
really fully explained to him what being an alpha meant. He had to make it up
as he went along." Stiles pauses in his tirade, breathing deeply to let go of
the anger that was brought up by his words. "As for what's going on between
Derek and I... I don't really have an answer for you on that one." He sighs
before moving to pick up the last few shards still on the floor.
Something clicks into place in Scott's mind and he is about to make a comment
when Kira's face suddenly appears around the doorframe, interrupting him.
"Scott, can I get your help in here for a sec'?" Kira asks, jerking her head
back toward the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in urgency.
"Uh, sure..." Scott says, sparing Stiles a long glance before making his way
into the next room. "What is it?" He spots three sandwiches lined up on the
counter. "You need help bringing these through or...?"
"No, I just wanted to stop you before you said something stupid," Kira replies,
raising her eyebrow again when Scott's mouth opens in shock. "Yes, I was
listening to you and Stiles just now and I know you've just figured out how
Stiles really feels about Derek. You can't say anything to him about it though,
OK?"
Scott shuts his mouth and frowns in confusion. "Why not?" he demands, petulance
clear in both his tone and in the way his bottom lip is sticking out. "Did you
know before?"
"Because he shouldn't have to talk about this stuff yet and nothing good will
come from you trying to pry it out of him before he's ready. And yes, everyone
in the pack already knows how Derek and Stiles feel about each other. Well,
except for Jackson, but then again, he's just as oblivious when it comes to
things like this as you are," Kira says, shaking her head, a fond smile on her
lips. "I figured it out during that party we threw for Derek; I could see the
looks both of them were giving the other when they thought no one else was
watching. I think everyone else already knew, especially Lydia... I swear that
girl knows everything."
"Wait, did you just say that Derek likes Stiles as well?!" Scott exclaims.
Kira clamps a hand over her boyfriend's mouth to silence him before Stiles can
overhear. "Keep your voice down! He'll hear you," she whispers angrily, not
releasing Scott from her grip until he nods his acquiescence. She wipes her
hands nervously on her jeans. "Yes, we're pretty sure that Derek feels the
same. There are the looks, plus him giving Stiles his jacket and he's been
wearing that triskelion necklace ever since Stiles gave it to him on his
birthday. As much as I'd like to clue Stiles in on the fact, you know how
little he thinks of himself, especially these days. His confidence is so low
that he's not going to believe it unless it comes from Derek himself. Allison,
Erica and Lydia had made a plan to try and get them together already, but with
everything that's been happening lately, I think it just kind of fell by the
wayside."
A silence falls over the room as both Scott and Kira look back into the living
room. They watch as Stiles strips carefully out of Derek's leather jacket and
places it almost reverently over the back of the sofa before donning the rubber
gloves and scrubbing viciously at the blood on the wall. The water in the
bucket is soon tinted an ugly shade of pink.
"Do you think the messages are written in their blood?" Kira asks, leaning back
against the kitchen island.
"I don't know. The rooms they were left in smell so much like Stiles' dad and
Allison, their scents ingrained into everything because they're always there,
that it was difficult to tell whose blood it was..." Scott answers, moving over
to the counter when his stomach makes its presence known again and picking up
one of the sandwiches. He stuffs it in his mouth almost in one go in hopes of
appeasing his voracious appetite. With the food quickly gone, he puts the plate
in the sink.
"I swear I'll never get used to how fast you werewolves can demolish food..."
Kira says, laughter clear in her voice.
                                     * * *
As soon as Derek closes the back door to Stiles' house, he makes his way across
the grass. He cuts through the trees that line the edge of the Stilinskis'
backyard and breaks into a run, intent on making this excursion as short as
possible so he can get back to Stiles before anything has a chance to happen.
The stench of their mystery assailant still permeates the air as he nears the
clearing where Jackson disappeared. He feels a fresh pang of worry for his
wayward beta. When the trees break enough to reveal the cold brick of his
apartment building, he slows his gait to a brisk walk. He quickly leaves the
parking lot behind himself and pushes through the building's main door, heading
immediately to the elevator and pushing the button for the floor his loft is
on. Impatience makes itself known on the ride up and, as he stands there in
silence, he takes in how worn and dirty the old elevator looks.
Derek can't help but think that Stiles sending his loft up in flames was
actually a blessing in disguise; now that he needs to find a new permanent
place of residence, he can actually find something half-decent. He tells
himself that owning a place that Stiles will actually want to hang out in isn't
part of that reasoning. He makes a mental note to talk to his landlord about
paying for the damage and the fact that he won't be renewing his lease. The
many fights that have taken place there over the months, including the one
memorable time when Isaac and Boyd convinced him that flooding the whole floor
and electrocuting everyone was the best course of action, are just some of bad
memories that are associated with the loft. Frankly, he'll be glad to be rid of
it once and for all. He is startled out of his thoughts by the elevator doors
springing open.
Stepping out and over to the metal of his door, Derek slides it open and
instantly recoils when his nose is assaulted by the combined stench of burned
fabric and rotten flesh, a grisly reminder of what occurred there the previous
day. Now that he's no longer submerged in the panic the fire caused in him, he
is able to fully take in the state of his now transient home. Almost everything
in the room is destroyed. The sofas, the coffee table, the walls, even the
television...all of it is charred black. Peering briefly through the door to
the kitchen, he is relieved to see that everything is still in tact there,
including all the appliances the pack got him. His eyes land on the gift
certificate Lydia had given him for a kitchen refurbishing; he is glad he
decided to wait to use it.
Sighing, Derek makes his way over to the spiral staircase that leads up to his
bedroom, thanking his past self for moving the few prized possessions he has
left up there along with all of his clothes a few weeks ago. Pulling his large
duffel bag out from under his bed—the same one he used during his trip to South
America with Cora after their victory over the alpha pack—he sets it on top of
the duvet and begins emptying his dresser drawer by drawer. His Henleys, jeans,
underwear and socks are all shoved carelessly into the bag, along with the
stuffed wolf Erica got him for his birthday.
Grabbing the few toiletries he uses from the bathroom, along with his fluffiest
towels, Derek stuffs them hastily atop his clothes before taking what he
believes to be the last remaining picture of his family before the first fire
from his nightstand and placing it lovingly on the top. Lastly, he crouches
down in front of the safe he keeps in the far corner, below the only window in
the room. Inputting the combination from memory, he swings the door open with a
loud creak. Instead of the small, black jar containing his mother's claws that
he was expecting to see, a familiar scent hits his nose and he finds instead a
folded piece of paper. Brow scrunched up in consternation, he picks up the
paper with an unsteady hand and unfolds it, revealing handwritten text:
'Hope you don't mind if I borrow these for a while.
—Peter'
A roar rips its way out of Derek's throat as he balls the note up in his hand.
Slamming the safe door closed again, he stands once more and stuffs the
crumpled paper into his duffel before angrily zipping it up and slinging it
over one broad shoulder. He stomps back down the staircase, his heavy footfalls
echoing through the open space of the living room. Coming to a stop in front of
the sliding front door, he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply in an attempt
to pick Peter's scent out of the many rancid odours in the room. His eyes open
again several seconds later when he is able to discern the tiniest hint of his
uncle, a smell he has come to associate with death. Peter's natural scent has
been shrouded in it ever since his throat was ripped out and he used Lydia to
resurrect himself. It's fairly fresh, so he knows that Peter's acquisition of
the claws must have been a relatively recent one.
Letting loose a huff of frustration, Derek slides the door open again and makes
his way out of the building, setting off back to Stiles' house when he quickly
loses Peter's trail. His trek back through the preserve is spent thinking of
all the possible reasons Peter could have for taking the claws. He feels the
most likely one is that his uncle just did it to piss him off. His thoughts
make the journey seem less time-consuming than usual—the many times he has
checked up on Stiles in the middle of the night in recent months making him
intimately familiar with how long the route between their houses can seem—and,
before he knows it, he's quickly letting himself back into the Stilinski
household through the back door.
Making his way into the living room, Derek finds Stiles on the sofa, eating a
sandwich with Kira sat next to him. He is surprised at how tidy everything
looks now; the message on the wall is nothing more than a faint outline from
where it stained the paint. It'll need a fresh coat to cover it fully. The
sound of the tap running upstairs tells him that Scott is in the bathroom.
"Did you get them?" are the first words Stiles says, muffled slightly by his
full mouth.
Instead of speaking, Derek sets his duffel bag down on the coffee table and
pulls out Peter's crumpled note, handing it to Kira seeing as Stiles' hands are
still otherwise occupied.
Kira's eyes widen as she takes in the words scrawled across the paper and a
small whine of disapproval escapes her mouth. "Are you serious? What in the
world would he need your mother's claws for?!" she demands, outrage clear on
her face.
"What would who need the claws for?" Stiles asks in a worried voice at the same
time that Scott pads back into the room, intent on seeing what all the fuss is
about.
"Peter," Derek answers tersely. "Apparently he thought he could just take my
mom's claws without asking. His scent was reasonably fresh, so he must have
taken them sometime in the last couple of days..." He takes the empty seat
beside Stiles before Scott can move to fill it.
"That's horrible!" Stiles cries, dropping the remains of the sandwich Kira made
him onto his plate, his appetite lost. "How are we supposed to figure out how
to beat this thing now?!"
Derek loops his arm consolingly around Stiles' shoulders, pulling the teen
against his side. "We'll find Peter, Stiles. We'll find him and I'll beat the
claws out of him if I have to. It's just an inconvenient kink in your plan. The
rest of it still stands." He forces the smug smile off of his face when he
feels Stiles relax into his hold, the teen's hand moving to grip tightly onto
his shirt.
"OK..." Stiles relents. In his attempt to avoid the alpha's gaze, his eyes
catch on the sliver of gold resting within the dark hair of the wolf's chest,
the expanse of skin revealed when his grip pulls down the neckline of Derek's
shirt. He feels his cheeks heat up with the knowledge that Derek has been
wearing his present this whole time. If anybody notices, he's grateful that
they don't call him out on it.
"I think I know where Peter is living at the moment; I'll get someone to check
if he's there," Derek says. Shifting slightly to pull his phone from his
pocket, he sends off a quick text to Isaac and Danny. "If they find anything,
they'll let us know."
Scott shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot in his place in front of the sofa.
"Well...I guess now that you're back, Derek, Kira and I should probably head
out and let our parents know what's happening." His eyes flit quickly between
the two left sitting as Kira sweeps over to his side, fully taking in the way
Stiles and Derek are completely relaxed into each other. He coughs
uncomfortably before taking Kira's hand and leading her to the front door,
returning the bidding of farewell that Stiles calls over his shoulder.
***** Recovery *****
"Remind me again to smack Peter upside the head the next time we run into each
other..." Isaac mutters as he gets into Danny's car, shutting the door behind
himself aggressively. He and the Hawaiian teen had been relaxing, reclined on
the sofa while they watched mindless television at the latter's house when
they'd received Derek's text. The curly-haired beta was needless to say none
too pleased at having been interrupted. He was loath to move, his body fit
comfortably snug between Danny and the back of the sofa. His boyfriend's
insistence that the sooner they find Peter, the sooner they could go back to
doing nothing was what eventually got him up and out of the house.
"I'm sure everyone else would love to get in on that with you," Danny says,
winking playfully as he slides into the driver's seat and snaps his seatbelt
into place. Turning his key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway,
they set off in the direction of where Derek thinks Peter's current abode is.
Minutes later, when the car has stayed filled with quiet, he looks over at
Isaac to see his companion staring with disinterest out of the window at the
passing trees that line the side of the road. "You know, I've never really
given much thought to where Peter lives," he offers, the need fill the silence
with conversation near overwhelming. "He's always just been sort of...there."
Isaac finally tears his gaze away from the trees and instead looks ahead at the
road in front of him. "I know what you mean. He just pops up whenever he thinks
he can get something out of the situation. I don't know why Derek still lets
him hang around, to be honest; he just creeps everybody out. Could you open the
windows? It's getting hot in here."
"It's probably out of some sort of familial obligation. Peter being his last
remaining relative besides Cora gets him some free passes, I guess," Danny
says, shrugging with indifference. He fumbles with the switch on his left,
lowering both front windows about halfway. "I wonder how he'll weasel his way
out of this one, though. Derek's gonna be pissed as hell, rightfully so."
"Where is it we're heading, exactly?" Isaac asks, taking notice of how the
trees seem to be getting thicker and the road more unkempt. He absentmindedly
brushes back the hair the wind keeps blowing into his eyes.
"Derek thinks Peter has a place somewhere on the outskirts of town. It's
secluded, no doubt so he can hatch his little plans without having to worry
about anyone overhearing him..." Danny trails off, slowing down the car when he
spots what he suspects is the concealed opening to the road leading to Peter's
place. "I think this is it. I really hope the claws are there because I'm ready
for all of this to be over already."
Isaac hums his agreement as he peers curiously through the front windshield,
watching as Danny manoeuvres the car through the tiny gap in the tree line he
pointed out. The road gets substantially rougher, jostling both of the car's
occupants uncomfortably. Gripping the top of the window to help steady himself,
he thinks back to the scene that had brought him and Danny out there in the
first place. "I wonder how Stiles is dealing with everything," he ponders. "I
was expecting him to be really shaken up by his dad being taken, especially
with how easily panicked he's been lately, but instead he seemed kind
of...calm."
"I think he's just thinking about getting him back. Now that there's actually a
goal to work toward, he's focusing on that instead of just dwelling on what
happened with the Nogitsune," Danny theorises, tapping the steering wheel with
his fingers. "I'm no expert on how Stiles' mind works, but I don't think he
copes too well with having nothing to do." His face breaks out in a grin when
the trees either side of the narrow road part to reveal a substantial clearing,
at the centre of which stands an oversized cabin. "This must be it."
Danny pulls the car to a stop a few feet away from the structure and turns off
the engine, unsurprised when Isaac immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and
hastily exits the vehicle. He copies the taller teen and gets out of the car.
"He's definitely been here recently; his scent is fresh," he comments,
scrunching his nose up in disapproval. He hesitates for a moment, focusing his
hearing as much as possible in an effort to detect whether anyone is in the
immediate vicinity. When the only sounds he hears are Isaac's footsteps, he
follows his boyfriend in a cautious loop around the building, watching as the
other beta peers surreptitiously through every window they come across. He
hides a smirk behind his hand when he sees Isaac's face fall in disappointment,
the boy finding curtains blocking his view through each pane of glass.
"Think it's locked?" Isaac asks as they finish their circuit and find
themselves back at the front of the cabin, standing before the only door
leading inside. He reaches out and grabs the handle, his face lighting up again
when he is able to open the door without any trouble.
"Guess not. It is out in the middle of nowhere, so maybe Peter didn't think
it's necessary..." Danny says, moving past Isaac and peering carefully around
the doorframe. When nothing immediately jumps out and attacks him, he steps
fully inside the room, sweeping a hand down the nearest wall in an attempt to
find a light switch. When he finds one, he flicks it on and floods the place in
light. The front door leads directly into what looks like the main living area.
The building's open floor plan flows seamlessly from the comfortable-looking
living room directly into a kitchen so clean it looks almost clinical. The
decorations all look expensive, the furniture spread neatly across the polished
hardwood floor. A fur rug is laid out in front of a lavish fireplace, above
which hangs a large flatscreen television.
Looking at the opposite wall, Danny sees a dark hallway, down which he can make
out two doors. He assumes they must lead to the bedroom and bathroom. Lining
the remaining wall space are several floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each shelf
completely filled with books.
"Figures that Peter could turn even a cabin in the woods into something
pretentious," Isaac snarks, lightly kicking one of the legs of the ornate
coffee table that sits between the fireplace and a brown leather sofa. "Where
does he even get the money to afford all of this stuff?" he asks, frowning. "If
he even gets any of it legally, which I kind of doubt."
"I don't know what their old house looked like before it burned down, but going
off of the size of it, I'd say the Hales were very wealthy. I've always just
assumed that he and Derek have a bunch of money stashed away somewhere,
considering that always Derek pays for everything on pack nights and neither of
them have a job," Danny theorises, moving into the kitchen and peering inside
the fridge. He raises an eyebrow at what he finds inside. "All he has is beer
and a bunch of raw meat. That's not creepy at all..." He grimaces before
closing the door again.
Isaac nods in agreement as he runs his fingers along the spines of some of the
books along the wall. They're all organised alphabetically by author and most
of them look old, worn and obviously well-loved. "Quite the reader, is our
Peter," he mutters, noting that there seem to be books from every possible
genre on the shelves. Quickly tiring of scanning over the titles, he moves on
and pauses in front of the dimly lit hallway. Glancing over at Danny, he sees
that the Hawaiian has moved on, too, and is now inspecting the contents of all
of the kitchen cupboards and drawers.
When he feels Isaac's eyes on his back, Danny meets his gaze and shrugs. "We
might as well be thorough," he excuses before turning back to the cupboard he
is currently rifling through.
Rolling his eyes, Isaac sighs before walking down the hallway. After a peek
through the first door reveals an airing cupboard instead of the bathroom he'd
been anticipating, he follows his nose and walks instead to the slightly ajar
door at the end of the hall. The faint scent of blood and bleach reaches him
and the wood creaks on its hinges when he pushes the door open. Flicking on the
light switch, Peter's bedroom is thrown into sharp relief. A grand four-poster
bed sits in the middle of the room, with end tables flanking each side where
the headboard rests against the wall. Isaac scoffs and shakes his head as he
takes in the bed's black silk sheets, which are meticulously made up. "Just
typical," he mumbles. A chest of drawers standing against the wall to his left
catches his eye and he pulls open the top one.
Hearing footsteps behind himself, Isaac sticks his head back out into the hall,
relieved to see that Danny has finished his snooping in the kitchen. The
Hawaiian teen follows him back into Peter's bedroom and immediately starts
going through the drawer he had left open, carelessly digging through the many
v-neck shirts Peter obviously favours. "You could be a little more discrete,
you know," he comments, raising an eyebrow when Danny shoots him a look of
feigned innocence. "He's going to know we were here if you leave everything so
messed up!"
"What's the point? Peter's going to know we've been here anyway because of our
scents," Danny explains. "We might as well just look through everything quickly
so we can get out of here before he gets back." Finding nothing but the shirts,
he begins searching through the remaining drawers, almost vomiting when he
comes to Peter's underwear drawer. "Gross!" He holds up a neon pink g-string
loosely between his thumb and index finger for Isaac to see before dropping it
back where it belongs. "I don't even want to know."
Isaac shakes his head in disgust. Turning away from Danny as the muscled teen
moves on to rifle through the dark wood desk sitting beside the chest of
drawers, he again catches the scent of blood and bleach, this time coming from
the only other door in the room. Frowning, he makes to open it, the scent
intensifying as he does so and forcing him to cover his nose and mouth with the
neck of his shirt in a feeble attempt to block out the overpowering smell. The
light is already switched on inside the room and, with a cursory glance, he
realises that this must be Peter's en suite bathroom. He steps uncertainly into
the room and finds the scent of blood seems to be concentrated in the clawfoot
bathtub that is wedged into an alcove in the far wall. A bottle of bleach sits
on the floor in front of the tub, along with several old, stained rags.
Dropping down to examine the items more closely, Isaac picks up one of the rags
and holds it closer to his nose. His nostrils are immediately assaulted by the
pungent scent of bleach and he struggles to stop from breaking out into a
coughing fit. Dropping the rag, he pulls back the shower curtain that surrounds
the bathtub. As expected, the porcelain is remarkably white and clean, as if it
had just been scrubbed vigorously. A single speck of dark draws his speculative
gaze and, running his finger over it, he smears the dot into a fine line of red
along the side of the tub. "Why was there a bunch of blood to clean up...?" he
wonders aloud.
Getting up from his position on the floor, Isaac glances around the rest of the
room before washing the smell of bleach from his hand in the sink. His
curiosity gets the better of him when he notices a tiny recess on the edge of
the flat mirror hanging above the sink. Hastily drying his hands, he squeezes
the short nail of his index finger into the gap and pulls, smirking when he
hears a small click before it swings open. A cabinet is revealed, the two
shelves inside lined with small, unlabelled glass jars.
As he starts examining each jar more closely, Isaac ponders what purpose the
contents of each one could have. Most of them look like various types of dried
herbs, but a couple of them he recognises as different strands of wolfsbane.
When what he thinks is the last of the jars joins the rest spread out on the
narrow counter around the sink, he is about to call it a dead end and put them
all back when he notices one lone jar still left in the cabinet, hidden right
at the back in the shadows. Pulling it out, he realises the reason he didn't
see it before was because it is tinted black instead of being clear. Shaking
the jar gently, he hears several small objects rattling around inside.
"What's all this?"
Startled by Danny's sudden presence, Isaac's fingers loosen their grip around
the black jar and it goes tumbling to the floor, shattering when it connects
with the tiles. Looking up from the mess, he sees Danny standing in the
doorway, holding a bunch of old file folders and wearing a look of apology on
his face.
Danny places the papers neatly on the floor and bends down to help when Isaac
begins cleaning up. They stop at the same time when they both get a good look
at what spilled out when the jar hit the floor. "Are these...?" he trails off
uncertainly, examining the claw that now rests in his palm.
"I think so," Isaac whispers, quickly dropping the glass fragments he had
started to pick up and instead gathering up the rest of the claws from the
floor. He counts them in his hands. "There are ten of them, so I think we just
found what we were looking for. Derek'll be pleased." He ignores the shattered
glass and stands instead, smiling in triumph.
"It's kind of weird that they recovered Derek's mother's claws from the fire
and kept them all these years, isn't it?" Danny asks, watching as Isaac
unscrews the cap on one of the other jars spread around the sink and carelessly
tosses its contents down the drain before putting the claws inside.
"I guess. I don't know the ins and outs of it all, but I think they still have
quite a bit of power in them if Derek can use them to get his memories back,"
Isaac answers, screwing the cap back on the jar now containing the claws. "Now,
can we finally get out of here?" He looks expectantly at Danny.
Danny shoots him a look of fond exasperation. "Not before we clean up
everything we touched," he says, waving a hand at the jars still scattered
around the sink and the glass on the floor. "You take care of this and I'll go
put everything back in place in the bedroom and kitchen." He picks the files
back up off of the floor and exits the room.
"Buzzkill..." Isaac mutters, stuffing the jars back into the cabinet and
shutting the door with a click. He sighs in defeat when he looks at the mess on
the floor, the thought of having to clean it all up by hand a daunting one.
Checking under the sink, he is relieved to find a dustpan and brush tucked in
the back. Quickly sweeping up the shattered glass, he dumps it all into the bin
beside the door before putting the dustpan and brush back in the cupboard,
flipping off the light and going in search of Danny.
"All sorted?" Danny asks when Isaac reenters the living room, receiving a nod
in return. They work in companionable silence while shutting all of the
cupboard doors in the kitchen that he left open earlier.
"What are those?" Isaac asks when they finish, tapping a finger on the topmost
of the folders Danny once again clutches in his hands.
"I found them in the only locked drawer in the desk in the bedroom," Danny says
distractedly as he begins leafing through them, waving a hand in the direction
of the piece of furniture in question. "They look like files on Derek's family:
old medical records, report cards...there's even a family tree here." He holds
up each of the papers as he speaks before stuffing them carefully back inside
the folder they came from and tucking them all under his arm. "Right, now we
can leave." He smirks when Isaac shoots him an unimpressed look.
They exit the cabin, Isaac slamming the door behind them, and make their way
over to Danny's car. After buckling both of their seat belts, Danny tosses the
files into the backseat and starts the engine, doing a u-turn and beginning the
drive back to Stiles' house. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac pull
out his phone and send a text to Derek to let him know they found the claws and
are on their way back.
As the two teens leave, a pair of blue eyes watch menacingly from the shadow of
the trees.
                                     * * *
When the front door shuts behind Kira and Scott, Stiles and Derek are left
basically cuddling up together on the sofa in silence. After a moment, Stiles
lets all of the tension that was caused by his friends' presence drain out of
his body, slumping fully into the warmth beside him. The corner of his mouth
twitches upwards when he feels Derek's arm tighten briefly where it lays around
his shoulders.
"You OK?" Derek asks, his voice laced with concern. He looks down at the top of
Stiles' head where it's tucked under his arm.
"Yeah... I don't mean this to sound as bad as it probably does, but I'm kind of
glad that I'm not surrounded by people right now, you know?" Stiles explains
quietly. "God knows I care about everyone in this pack—even Jackson, if you can
believe it—but I always feel like I have to keep a front up around them all at
the moment, especially now that this has happened." He gestures to the wall in
front of them. "I don't want to add my troubles on top of theirs."
Derek makes a noise of understanding when Stiles pauses. "I don't think anyone
would mind if you didn't keep that front up around them, though. I know they
all understand how hard these past few months have been for you and that it
takes a lot of time to reach some semblance of normalcy again," he assures,
running a hand gently up and down Stiles' arm.
Stiles lets out a contented sigh. "I know that. I just...I don't want to rely
too much on the others; putting all of my shit on them makes me feel even more
guilty than I already do. Plus, I want to actually get better so that I don't
feel both smothered around other people and terrified when I'm alone." He
exhales harshly in frustration. "It's exhausting going back and forth all the
time. I'm never going to get back to normal if I don't try."
"I think I know what you mean..." Derek pauses, searching for the right words.
"After the fire, it was probably the darkest time in my life. It didn't matter
that Laura didn't blame me for what happened or that she was there and trying
to help me out from under the weight I'd put on my shoulders. When she moved us
to New York, I wasn't eating or sleeping much and I stopped caring about the
things that I loved doing before. I think from the way she was hovering over me
all the time that she actually feared for a while that I might actually try to
kill myself. It didn't start getting better until I was ready to make the
effort to get myself out of it."
"I don't think I've said it before, but I'm sorry that happened to you," Stiles
says sympathetically, unconsciously nuzzling lightly at Derek's chest with his
cheek in an effort to comfort. He stops in surprise when the sudden rumbling he
feels against his face brings him back to his senses. He realises his actions
and quickly disentangles himself from Derek's grasp to try and avoid
embarrassing himself any further in front of the wolf. "Sorry," he says meekly,
shifting his body to create a small space between them.
Derek quickly masks his disappointment before he meets Stiles' eyes. "Don't
worry about it. Just know that we're all still here for you whenever you need
us." He breaks eye contact when he finds his next words too difficult to say to
Stiles' face. "I'm here whenever you need me," he promises earnestly.
Stiles stares at Derek in shock, temporarily at a loss for words. He studies
Derek's profile, baffled. "You really confuse me, you know," he whispers,
relieved when his words finally cause Derek's eyes to once again meet his.
"Who'd have thought we'd be sitting here, basically spilling our innermost
feelings to each other, when not that long ago you were shoving me into walls
and making death threats to get me to do what you wanted. I thought you hated
me back then." He chuckles when Derek coughs awkwardly, the tips of his ears
quickly turning pink in a reaction that is fast becoming familiar.
"I never hated you..." Derek mumbles, looking down at his hands. "I just wasn't
used to being around other people anymore, especially not someone that was
so...talkative, shall we say. It was a little disconcerting and, to be honest,
annoying at first."
Stiles smiles, turning so that he's sitting cross-legged facing Derek. "I bet
you were loving me not talking as much recently then, huh?" he jokes,
attempting to steer the conversation away from its current serious tone.
"Never!" Derek exclaims, shocking both Stiles and himself with the intensity of
his reply. He clears his throat as he regains his composure. "I didn't love it
at all. In fact, I actually missed your incessant ramblings. The less you
talked, the worse I knew you were getting. It's been nice hearing you say more
than two words at a time again."
"You really mean that, don't you?" Stiles questions, disbelieving.
"Of course I do. I wouldn't lie about something like this," Derek defends,
trying to convey to the teen just how much he meant all of his words through
his eyes. He is pleased when it seems to work, Stiles nodding his head.
"I believe you. I’m kind of scared to, but I believe you," Stiles says. When
Derek's grateful expression morphs into one confusion, he elaborates: "Alright,
I haven't even told Scott this, but since I want to finally start getting back
to normal and because they say a good way to start the healing process is to
talk about it...here goes nothing. When I was possessed by the Nogitsune, it
kept me awake most of the time. I was completely aware of what was happening,
of what it was doing. I was seeing everything through its eyes, as if I was
actually the one doing it. I felt its emotions, too, how much it enjoyed and
revelled in tearing the pack apart and causing everyone pain," Stiles explains,
shifting uncomfortably in place. "But that wasn't everything it did. Other
times—when there was no chaos for it to cause and subject me to in the real
world—it was like I was dreaming but didn't know it.
"It would make me think I'd been rescued, that you guys had saved me, and I'd
be over the moon. Then I'd 'wake up'. I'd go from believing that I was safe,
back to watching it torturing you guys with my hands..." Stiles trails off into
silence, seemingly lost to his memories. A lone tear makes its way down his
cheek.
Unsure of what to say, Derek reaches out with his free hand and gently wipes
away the moisture on Stiles' face.
The touch breaks Stiles out of his reverie and he blinks away the further tears
building in his eyes, sniffling pathetically. "Sorry," he says, fighting the
urge to follow Derek's hand as it retreats. "That's what I meant when I said I
was scared to believe what you said earlier. I'm still scared that all of
this," he gestures weakly between Derek and himself, "the whole of the past few
months, has just been another one of the Nogitsune's tricks and that, any
minute now, I'll wake up to find that I'm still trapped in my own mind." He
smiles weakly when the hand Derek is covering with his own gives a small
squeeze.
"It's fine, Stiles," Derek assures, squeezing the teen's hand a second time
before letting go. "If you're ever unsure again, you should do that technique
you told me about after the Nemeton, where you count your fingers. Or you can
come find me and count mine." He winks, relieved when his joke startles a laugh
out of Stiles.
"Thanks. I don't think I'll ever get used to you cracking jokes... It's nice to
see, though." Stiles shakes his head in amusement before sniffling again and
grimacing. "Ugh, I need to blow my nose... Why don't you take the stuff you
brought from your old place up to my room?" With that, he rushes off upstairs
to the bathroom.
Derek follows at a more sedate pace, picking up the duffel bag full of his
clothes on his way to the stairs. Ascending to the second floor, he hears the
toilet flushing as he makes his way to Stiles' bedroom, the memorable time he
hid there when Scott lied and told the police he was terrorising the high
school at night allowing him to feel comfortable just walking in without Stiles
being there to give him express permission. He furrows his brow when he finds
the usual scent of 'teenage boy' that previously permeated the room is
conspicuously lesser than usual. Startling, he hears the bathroom door reopen
from down the hall, quickly followed by footsteps.
Stiles appears in the doorway, looking uncertain. He sees Derek standing
awkwardly in the centre of the room, clutching his duffel bag, and rushes to
help. "Give me a sec' to clear a space and then you can just put your clothes
and stuff in here," he gushes, sending his own clothes spilling onto the floor
as he fumbles them out of the top drawer in his dresser. He picks the old jeans
and shirts back up and fills the other drawers to overflowing, struggling to
close them again when he's done. "There!" He steps back and immediately blushes
furiously when he catches sight of Derek's expression. The alpha has one thick
eyebrow raised, the corners of his lips twitching as laughter dances in his
eyes. "Not a word," he warns, stepping back to give access to the space he just
cleared.
"I wasn't going to say anything," Derek quips, the chuckle he was restraining
breaking free when the flush on Stiles' face intensifies further than he
thought humanly possible. He puts his duffel on top of the dresser and unzips
it. From his earlier haste when packing, his clothes are all stuffed
haphazardly inside, balled up and messy. He refolds each article of clothing
meticulously, smoothing out as many of the wrinkles as he can before putting
them in their new home in Stiles' empty dresser drawer.
"I knew you liked your order, but I didn't know you were such a neat freak,"
Stiles comments, watching Derek work from over the alpha's shoulder.
Derek shoots Stiles a mock glare, letting up when the teen holds up his hands
in surrender and backs up a couple of paces. "You know what they say: you learn
something new every day," he responds, putting away the last piece of clothing
he brought and shutting the drawer. "Thanks for this, by the way. I didn't want
to intrude, but Danny and Isaac were adamant that I stay here until I get a new
place. Don't worry; it shouldn't take me too long," he hastens to say when
Stiles' ever-expressive eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
"No, it's fine," Stiles rushes to say. "I don't mind." He takes a seat on his
bed, running his hand over the top of the duvet. "I wonder why they did that...
I guess it kind of makes sense; there's only me and my dad living here, so
there's plenty of space."
Derek takes out the last remaining items from his duffel—his toiletries, the
stuffed wolf Erica gifted him and the picture of his family—and hands the bag
over to Stiles when the teen makes a grabbing gesture. He watches as Stiles
slides the bag under his bed and plops the stuffed wolf down on his pillow. The
picture frame ends up being placed on the nightstand, next to a photograph of
what he assumes are the teen's parents. The sight of both of their smiling
families sitting side by side makes him want to smile as well.
"You can put those in the bathroom if you want," Stiles offers, pointing at the
toiletries still in Derek's hand before leading the way and showing the alpha
where he can store each item.
Seeing his toothbrush sitting next to Stiles' in the holder above the sink
fills Derek's chest with a strong sense of longing. He pushes the feeling down
before he can get carried away, knowing that this arrangement is only
temporary, no matter what his heart tells him he wants.
Back in his room, Stiles grabs his computer off of his desk and reclaims his
spot on the bed. He pauses in his task of booting up the computer and peers
curiously at Derek when he notices that the alpha has perched himself awkwardly
on his desk chair, all the way on the other side of the room. "Dude, what are
you doing way over there? We've still got some time to kill before Danny and
Isaac get back to us, so get your furry butt over here so we can binge bad TV
on Netflix!" He points demandingly at the empty spot on his left, levelling a
stern gaze at Derek until the wolf complies.
Derek carefully sits in his designated spot, bemused. "I have a feeling I'm
going to regret this..." he teases, past conversations he's overheard between
Stiles and Scott leading him to doubt that his and Stiles' tastes in television
or film line up in the slightest.
"Oh hush, Sourwolf. You'll be fine," Stiles dismisses, pausing with his finger
hovering over the trackpad as he thinks. "Actually, do I remember you saying
you don't know anything about the many awesome superhero franchises that are
out there when I made the pack watch Thor a few months ago?" When Derek nods
apprehensively, he makes a noise of disapproval before clicking through the
menus on the computer screen until he finds what he wants. "Well then, we'll be
working on fixing that grievous misstep on your part while you're here," he
states confidently, staring at Derek and silently daring the wolf to contradict
his assumption. When the man acquiesces, he gleefully announces that they'll be
watching the first Iron Man before clicking play. "Get ready to be blown away,"
he promises smugly.
Both of them watch in near silence, the only noises made being those from the
computer speakers and the occasional question that Derek asks.
Soon enough, the film comes to an end and Stiles shuts the lid of his laptop.
"Well, what did you think?" he asks, setting the computer to the side and
folding his hands atop his lap. He looks at Derek expectantly.
"It was pretty good," Derek says carefully. "I liked it more than I thought I
would." He instantly wishes he had lied and said he hated it when Stiles fist-
pumps the air in triumph and informs him that he'll be subjected to watching
the rest of the films in the franchise in the immediate future. "Great.." he
mutters forlornly. "I look forward to it." As soon as he's finished speaking,
his stomach rumbles loudly. He wonders when the last time he ate was.
"You're hungry," Stiles points out needlessly. He hops up off of the bed,
pulling Derek up with him and shepherding him downstairs and into the kitchen.
He ferrets around in the fridge for a minute before emerging with a selection
of different deli meats and cheeses. Laying it all out on the counter, he is
relieved to see that Kira left four slices of bread unused when she made
sandwiches for him and Scott earlier. "What did you want on yours?" he asks,
gesturing to the selection of fillings. He is unsurprised when Derek points to
all of them. He proceeds to pile several slices of the various meats and
cheeses onto two of the bread slices, buttering the other two before completing
the masterpieces with the ketchup and mayonnaise Derek pulls out of the fridge.
Derek takes his plate from Stiles' hands when the teen nearly shoves it in his
face, thanking him as he takes a seat at the kitchen island and digs in. "'s
good," he compliments, wiping a stray drip of condiment from his chin after a
particularly messy bite.
"Thanks," Stiles blushes, watching Derek eat with rapt attention. "I wonder if
Danny and Isaac have found anything yet," he says when the silence draws on too
long.
Derek finishes off the last of his sandwich, licking his fingers to rid himself
of the last of the crumbs before putting the plate in the sink with the others
he spotted there earlier. "I don't know... I asked them to text me if they do
and I haven't gotten word yet, but they could still be looking." He sits back
next to Stiles and sets his elbows atop the island's surface, his chin resting
on his palms. They sit in companionable silence for a while until Stiles
suggests they go back up to his bedroom and watch the next Iron Man film. He
agrees, unable to refute when Stiles reminds him of his earlier praise for the
first one.
It's halfway through the movie that Derek's phone finally vibrates in his
pocket. He pulls it out and looks at the message on the screen. "They found
them," he says when Stiles pauses the film. "They're on their way back here
now." He gets up from the bed and immediately heads downstairs, glad when he
hears Stiles' hurried footsteps following him.
Stiles sits on the sofa in the living room and watches while Derek paces back
and forth in front of him. "Derek, sit down. You're making me anxious," he
pleads. The cushions bounce slightly when Derek nearly throws himself into the
vacant seat. He takes a deep breath to calm himself.
Derek, sensing Stiles' nervousness, pulls the teen against his side until
they're in the same position they were in earlier that afternoon, relaxing back
into the cushions. "Sorry... I just really want to find out how this thing
knows me," he admits, his hand rubbing up and down Stiles' arm again. They sit
in tense silence as they wait for Danny and Isaac to arrive. When the sound of
Danny's car pulling up outside reaches Derek's ears, he sits forward, the arm
he has wrapped around Stiles dragging him up as well. The front door opens and
the two betas walk through into the living room.
Isaac hands Derek the jar containing his mother's claws as soon as they enter
the room. "So, how do we do this?" he asks, his eyes flicking back and forth
between the two on the sofa, taking in their close proximity. Danny and Stiles
both look at Derek as he starts explaining.
"I'm gonna need your help for this and, fair warning, it's going to hurt quite
a bit," Derek informs them, unwinding his arm from around Stiles' back and
unscrewing the cap on the jar. He doesn't miss the noise of disappointment
Stiles lets slip free at their loss of contact and files that piece of
information away to bring up again later. "You'll need to basically make these
claws your own," he explains, tipping the claws out onto the heavily damaged
coffee table. They immediately rush to stand at attention, vertical, the tips
the only parts touching the wooden surface. He takes Isaac's hand and positions
each of his fingers above the corresponding claws. "Stay like this."
Derek lets go of Isaac's hand and sits back, resting his arms across his knees.
"On three, I want you to push down on the claws so that they go under your
nails," he instructs, wincing in sympathy when he sees Isaac's horrorstruck
expression. "I know, I did say it was going to hurt. Don't worry though; as
soon as we're done, we'll take them out and your nails should heal."
Isaac listens apprehensively as Derek begins the countdown and, when he hears,
"Three," he pushes his hand down and cries out in pain as his nails are ripped
from their beds and the claws replace them. Danny rubs his back as he breathes
through it. When most of the pain has passed, he flexes his fingers cautiously,
staring at the tips of them in amazement. "Now what?" he asks when he's looked
his fill.
Shifting to the side slightly so that he's facing Stiles, his back now turned
to Isaac, Derek taps the back of his neck twice. "I need you to pierce the skin
of my neck with the claws. If everything goes to plan, then I should be able to
access the memories I'm missing." He shuts his eyes and waits nervously,
flinching slightly with he feels the tips of the claws graze the sensitive skin
of his neck. He is given a small sense of comfort when Stiles takes both of his
hands in his own. He gasps when Isaac shoves forward, the claws finally cutting
into his flesh. A series of images begins to flash through his mind.
***** Memories *****
Derek walks off of the basketball pitch on Friday afternoon with a small smile
on his face. The coach has just ended practice and, as usual, Derek spent the
session scoring goal after goal against the other team. He knows he has an
unfair advantage—his werewolf reflexes coupled with his innate talent easily
allows him to constantly perform better than every other member of the team—but
he can't help feeling a small sense of accomplishment. He is brought out of his
thoughts by a figure standing right in his path to the changing rooms.
"You seem to be in a good mood today," Laura comments, hands on her hips. She
laughs when Derek just rolls his eyes and tries to slip past her blockade. "Ah,
not so fast, little brother! We're not done talking yet." She keeps a firm grip
on Derek's arm to prevent any more escape attempts. "I was watching, you know."
"Fascinating," Derek says sarcastically, shaking off Laura's hand. "What are
you doing here anyway? I thought you were still grounded after mom caught you
sneaking out last week. She said she wanted you home immediately after school
for the rest of the month." He rests the basketball he still holds against his
hip.
Laura makes a noise of derision. "Yeah, I am and she does. She made an
exception today, though, and made me stay behind to escort my dear little
brother home instead." The smirk on her lips intensifies when her words earn
her a glare.
"Whatever. Now, can you please move? I need to change," Derek insists, making
another try at pushing past his older sibling when she doesn't move.
"Seriously, Laura, I'm all sweaty. We can talk in the car if that's what you're
waiting for."
"Ugh, fine. I'll meet you outside," Laura relents, rolling her eyes as she
steps aside and makes her way through the school's main building, heading for
the parking lot on the other side.
Derek shoulders open the locker room door and is happy to see that all of the
other members of the team have already finished changing out of their sports
jerseys and shorts and have cleared off home. He sets the basketball down and
opens his locker, pulling out his towel and shower gel and heading for the
showers. Stripping out of his sweat-soaked clothes, he waits for the water to
warm up to the right temperature, testing it with a hand before stepping fully
under the spray. Taking his time cleaning the practice session from his body,
he is reluctant to resume his conversation with Laura any sooner than he has
to. When he's done, he dries off and puts back on that day's clothes, pulling
out his duffel bag and slamming the door of his locker shut before stuffing all
of his things inside the bag and zipping it up. His movements are all slower
than necessary in a childish attempt to waste more time.
Putting the basketball back in the storeroom on his way outside, Derek sighs
when he realises he has nothing else to do and sets off for Laura's car. When
he walks out of the front doors, he sees that hers is the only one still left
in the parking lot.
Laura checks her bag for her keys when she sees Derek approaching, unlocking
the black Camaro she got from her parents for her eighteenth birthday and
swinging the driver's door open. When she's comfortably ensconced within the
confines of the car, she tosses her bag carelessly into the back seat and
buckles her seatbelt before shoving the key in the ignition. She looks
expectantly over at Derek when he opens the other door, sliding in and just
sitting moodily in the passenger seat. She raises an eyebrow and gestures to
her seatbelt in an effort to get him to do up his own.
Derek huffs, making a show of complying. "Happy?" he asks haughtily.
"Yup," Laura replies, exaggerating the 'P'. She backs out of her parking space
and sets off in the direction of their home.
"You're so annoying," Derek complains, shaking his head and turning away from
his sister, looking instead out of the window to his right in a feeble attempt
to preempt the endless barrage of questions he knows is coming.
"So..." Laura starts off, shooting a quick glance at Derek when she senses the
already tense atmosphere of the car strengthening. "You gonna tell me what had
you in such a good mood earlier? I haven't seen you smile like that in months."
After a minute of waiting, she looks away from the road when she still hasn't
received an answer. "Come on, Der, it's not nice to ignore people," she sing-
songs.
Derek throws a glare in Laura's direction before sighing dramatically and going
back to staring out of the passenger-side window. "I don't know what you want
me to say," he admits tiredly. His heart rate picks up when she pulls the car
over to the side of the road and shuts off the engine.
"Well, you could start by finally telling me what was wrong this whole time?"
Laura suggests, fiddling with the keys in the ignition. "I know mom told me not
to push you on it. Ordered me, in fact. All she told me was that it had
something to do with a girl and that you'd tell me when you were ready, but
honestly, I'm tired of worrying and being in the dark. You're never around
nowadays. You're either at school or shut up in your room, not really talking
or interacting with anyone. You never come out on runs anymore, not even during
the full moon. If this girl did something that hurt you this badly, I want you
to tell me so I can help. Please?" she implores, hoping to exploit their
previously close relationship to finally get a solid answer.
Sighing again, Derek looks down at his hands tangled in his lap and gathers his
courage. "Paige," he whispers. "That was her name." He focuses his gaze once
again on the tree line, knowing that he'll be unable to have this conversation
if he actually looks his sister in the eye. "And she didn't hurt me, I hurt
her." He wrings his hands together nervously when he hears Laura's sharp intake
of breath. "We didn't like each other at first. She was mad when me and a few
of the guys were messing around in the hallway at school, tossing a basketball
around. She came storming out of the music room and told us to stop it, that we
were interrupting her cello practice.
"After that, we would just banter back and forth whenever we crossed paths. We
got closer and, eventually, we were sneaking out to see each other all the
time. Then uncle Peter showed up at lunch one day. He noticed me glancing at
Paige and told me that I was being stupid. 'What would she do if she knew what
you really were?' he asked. I'd already been worried about it, what she would
think of me, and Peter sharing my worry made it so much worse. So, he came up
with a plan..." Derek shuts his eyes tightly to try and stop the tears building
from falling. "I don't think even mom knows this part; she'd be so mad if she
ever found out. This was around the time that bunch of alphas was here,
visiting. I've never asked how he did it, or why, but Peter convinced one of
them to bite Paige."
Derek swallows heavily when Laura unclenches his hands and takes one in her
own. "I didn't want that. I didn't want her to get the bite, especially without
knowing everything that it meant, but by the time I found her it was too late;
she'd already been bitten. She was so scared... I didn't want anyone to see, so
I took her to that root cellar in the preserve to wait for her to change, only
she didn't. The bite wasn't taking. That's when she told me she knew, that
she'd known I was a werewolf almost the whole time and liked me anyway. She was
dying and it was all for nothing. She was in so much pain and I couldn't stand
listening to her suffer anymore, so...I ended it." A single tear finally
escapes at Derek's last sentence. He looks over at Laura in shame and flashes
his eyes. It's the first time he's shown anybody their new colour since his mom
found him right after they changed.
Laura gasps when she sees blue instead of yellow. "Oh Der..." she gasps. She
hastily unbuckles her seatbelt and launches herself at Derek, wrapping her arms
around his shaking form as he continues in vain to hold back tears. "It's OK,
it's OK," she assures, guiding Derek so that his face his buried in her neck
like she used to do if he was upset when they were kids. She's a little
surprised that he lets her; in recent years, ever since he hit puberty, her
little brother has shunned any of her attempts to comfort, instead choosing to
brood alone up in his room.
They sit there for several minutes as Derek calms himself. "D-do you hate me?"
he whispers shakily into Laura's collarbone, preparing for the worst when she
pulls back and takes his face in her hands.
"I could never hate you, Der," Laura assures. "I'd ask if you knew that nothing
that happened was your fault, but I already know what the answer would be. I
have to tell you to stop blaming yourself for things that were out of your
control. You couldn't have known what Peter was planning to do, you couldn't
have known that the bite wouldn't take and you couldn't have known that she
already knew our secret." She sighs when the only response her words get is
that Derek breaks eye contact, instead looking down forlornly. "You should tell
mom."
Derek looks back up at Laura at that, shock and terror evident in his eyes.
"It'll be fine, Der. I know she won't be mad." With that, Laura wipes her
thumbs under Derek's eyes to get rid of the last of his tears and situates
herself back in her seat, buckling her seatbelt again and continuing the drive
home.
                                     * * *
When Laura pulls the car up outside of the Hale House, Derek immediately hops
out of the black vehicle, stopping momentarily to grab his bag from the
backseat before heading inside. He hears his sister follow suit as he opens the
front door. Before he can even take off his shoes, he is surprised when a
booming voice comes from the top of the staircase in the entrance hall.
"There you are!" Talia exclaims, the long, black dress she wears flowing around
her feet as she sweeps down the stairs to greet her children. "I was wondering
what was taking you two so long." She kisses both Derek and Laura on the cheek
before leading them through to the dining room. "You're just in time; dinner's
about to be served." She smiles as the two teens fill the empty chairs—with
some extreme reluctance on Derek's part—before taking her own at the head of
the table.
Before any conversation can start, Nathan, their dad, comes through from the
kitchen, bearing several plates of food on his arms. "Food's here!" he
announces unnecessarily, setting it down in front of the hungry members of the
Hale pack.
A second trip to the kitchen ends with Derek staring somewhat stonily at what
is put in front of him. His good mood that basketball practice had given him
earlier has long since evaporated, helped along by his talk with Laura on the
way back from school. They say grace before digging in. He watches as everybody
but himself starts talking amongst each other, asking questions about other
pack members' days or making plans for the weekend. Picking disinterestedly at
his food, he is surprised when someone pats him on the shoulder. He looks to
his right to see his uncle Jeremy, their pack's emissary and one of Talia and
Peter's adoptive twin brothers, withdrawing his hand. He hides his surprise at
Jeremy's presence, the man having been in New York City for the past couple of
months seeing to some 'pack business', as his mom put it.
Derek doesn't know the ins and outs of what happened to their family, but after
their parents died, both Jeremy and his twin, Landon, were taken in by Derek's
grandparents, Deirdre and Frank Hale, and given a place in the pack. Under the
guidance of the pack's old emissary—Deirdre's cousin, Tony—it soon became
apparent that Jeremy possessed great skill when it came to all things magical.
He was soon groomed to take over from Tony when the man either stepped down or
died. Unlike his brother—and much to his dismay—Landon didn't share Jeremy's
gifts.
Wondering briefly why he didn't pick up on Jeremy's scent the moment he walked
through the door, Derek theorises after a second of introspection that his sour
mood must have been interfering with his senses. He's happy to have the man
back, nevertheless, he and Jeremy having always been close. Despite the age
difference, he has always felt he could tell Jeremy anything—things he didn't
think he could even tell Laura—and never be judged for it. The same could never
be said, however, about Jeremy's twin brother, Landon—one of the few purely
human members of the pack—who is currently sat beside Cora on the other side of
the table. He has always gotten a bad vibe from the man, though he knows the
rest of the pack don't share that feeling, especially Peter, his other uncle
having always been loud in his support of his brother.
Things weren't always that way; it's only in recent years that Landon's whole
attitude seemed to change, to sour, his outward appearance undergoing a similar
metamorphosis. While the twins always had their differences—such as Jeremy's
tanned skin, which he got from hours spent outdoors playing under the sun with
his nieces and nephews while Landon always chose to remain indoors, his
alabaster complexion unchanging—those differences are now even more apparent
since, instead of the natural light brown hair that Jeremy still sports, Landon
now opts to bleach his hair ice blond. The even more recent addition of an
eyebrow piercing and heavy eyeliner make him look every bit like a
stereotypical 'alternative' poser. Jeremy's friendly face is framed by a neatly
trimmed beard, whereas Landon has always been clean-shaven.
"C'mon, Derek, why the long face?" Jeremy asks cheekily, his seemingly ever-
present smile widening into a grin when Derek does nothing but continue to
glower in response. "Seriously, though, what's got you looking so down?" He
adopts a more concerned expression for the more serious question.
Derek considers lying and saying that everything is fine, but the genuine worry
he sees in Jeremy's eyes makes him reconsider. After a quick glance over in
Laura's direction—she gives him a thumbs up and Derek sends his signature glare
back when he realises that she was clearly eavesdropping—he shakes his head,
muttering a quiet, "I'll tell you later," in hopes of not having that
particular conversation somewhere the whole family can hear every word. At
Jeremy's nod, he makes a show of eating his food and acting as cheerful as
possible when he feels his mom's eyes on the back of his head. When he hears
Cora ask where their uncle Peter is, Derek glances to the left and sees that
the seats usually filled by his uncle and his wife are indeed conspicuously
empty. He's really off of his game, it seems.
"He's staying in with Marion tonight, dear. The morning sickness has started,
although as she tells it, it's more like morning, noon and night sickness,"
Talia replies.
This causes Derek to cast his memory back to the previous month, when Peter and
Marion had announced they were expecting a baby at this very dinner table,
their faces lit up with excitement. He remembers the news bringing him
temporarily out of the cloud of guilt he'd been trapped under ever since Paige.
The couple had also followed through on their plans to move out of the main
house and into one of their own.
The conversation goes on from there, everyone discussing with glee the numerous
preparations to be completed before the baby arrives later that year. The only
people that don't actively take part are Derek and Landon. A quick glance at
the man reveals to Derek that his uncle is looking between himself and Jeremy
with loathing clear on his features.
When Landon meets Derek's eyes, he smiles evilly before painting on a fake
expression of innocence that creeps Derek out far more than anything he's seen
on Landon's face before.
                                     * * *
An hour later, when dinner is finished and the pack have split off into
different rooms, Jeremy follows Derek up the stairs and into his bedroom. When
the door is shut, Derek—after sending a silent 'thank you' to whoever's
decision it was to soundproof all of the bedrooms—takes a seat at the head of
his bed, resting back against the pillows.
"So, now that we're away from prying eyes and ears, you wanna finally fill me
in on what's been bugging you?" Jeremy enquires, sitting with his legs crossed
directly in front of Derek and slapping a hand lightly on the teenager's knee
in an effort to diffuse some of the tension in the room.
Derek opens his mouth and finds himself repeating the same story he'd told
Laura earlier that afternoon. Jeremy gasps in all of the same places and his
expression is both one of shock and empathy throughout the whole tale. When
Derek is finished, he looks tentatively up at his uncle, uncertain of how the
man is going to take this new information. When anger suddenly appears on
Jeremy's face, he flinches, leaning back even further so that his back his
pressed against the headboard in a futile effort to put more distance between
them.
When Jeremy notices what his reaction is doing to Derek, he winces guiltily and
claps his hand on Derek's knee again. "Relax, I'm not mad at you..." he
explains, resting his hands behind himself on the bedspread and leaning back
casually. "I'm just wondering why Peter would go behind your back to Ennis and
get him to bite Paige. I can't figure out what would motivate him to do that."
His frowns deepens. "I've never really gotten along with Peter, sure, but he
must've known that nothing good could possibly have come from that."
"I've missed you," Derek mutters, the relief he feels from Jeremy's instant
acceptance making him realise just how worried he'd been about telling his
uncle. He returns the easy smile Jeremy sends his way at his words.
"You too, Derek. You too..." Jeremy shifts around so that he's laying beside
Derek, snuggling his head back into the pillows. "Have you told your mom?" he
asks, turning to look at his nephew when Derek shifts guiltily in place.
"Not yet. I told Laura earlier—after she practically pried it out of me—and she
said I should probably tell mom, too, and that I shouldn't worry. I can't help
but be worried, though, you know?" Derek says quietly, wringing his hands in
his lap again. He's forced to stop when Jeremy's hand covers his own. When a
sudden feeling of calmness sweeps through his body, he stares at his uncle
gratefully. "You don't have to do that. You shouldn't waste your powers trying
to make me feel better."
Jeremy pulls his hand back with a smirk. "Relax, it's not like there's anything
lurking around the corner that I'll need them for. The town's still quiet."
They lapse into comfortable silence for a few minutes before Jeremy breaks it.
"Laura's right about your mom, Derek. She won't blame you. Besides, if you do
tell her, she might give Peter's ass a good kicking and that's always a fun
thing to witness." He winks when he gets a small laugh out of the young wolf.
"Well, I'll leave you to it then. I'm still kinda jet lagged, so I should
really get some much-needed sleep." Slapping Derek on the knee again, he hops
up off of the bed and heads for the door. He yelps in surprise when he comes
immediately face to face with Landon, who is standing right on the other side.
"Uncle Jer, what is it?" Derek asks, concerned, moving off of his bed as well
to look over Jeremy's shoulder. When he sees Landon, his worried expression
morphs into one of contempt. "Oh. Hi, uncle Landon," he mutters, turning away
with disinterest. Landon just smirks unsettlingly at the two of them and stalks
off to his own room, nearly slamming the door behind himself.
"I swear, I don't know what's crawled up his butt lately, but I'm gonna get to
the bottom of it or so help me..." Jeremy mumbles to himself before sending a
friendly wave at Derek and exiting the room, shutting the door with a gentle
click.
                                     * * *
It's Saturday morning and Derek is walking through the preserve. He trudges
along aimlessly, the years spent running through the area both with and without
his pack coupled with his heightened senses allowing him to feel at ease with
not paying much attention to where his feet take him. He thinks about the
conversations he had with Laura and Jeremy the previous day and, after some
deliberation, decides that he's going to follow their advice and finally come
clean to his mom that evening. He knows from experience that once Talia is done
putting everyone through their paces in their weekly training session—even the
few human members of the pack, to a lesser extent—she'll retire to her study.
Ordinarily, no one else but his dad is allowed inside the room, but he knows
that she'll make an exception when she sees just how serious he is.
Derek's planning is interrupted when his ears pick up on a pained whimper
coming from somewhere in the distance. Immediately, he is alert, standing still
and straining to catch wind of the noise again. He whips his head to the right
when he hears it. He recognises that whimper. The memory plays out in his head:
Laura had been showing off, shifted in her beta form, demonstrating some of the
special alpha moves that their mom had taught her during training the previous
week. One of the moves had damaged the base of a large tree, unnoticed by Laura
since she was busy looking over at himself and Cora with a smug smile on her
face. Before she could fully get out of the way, the tree had crashed down and
trapped her leg beneath its substantial weight. Luckily, Talia hadn't been too
far away and had heard his and Cora's desperate cries for help, the two of them
not yet strong enough to lift the tree by themselves. In the end, after a harsh
talking to, there hadn't been any long-term damage and Laura had healed
completely within a couple of days.
When he hears that same whimper for the third time, Derek snaps himself out of
his memories and races off in the direction of the noise, his heart beating
uncomfortably fast in his chest as anxiety floods his system. He prays that
whatever is causing his sister to make those noises is nothing too serious.
When he gets closer to the source, he picks up on two other people besides
Laura in the immediate vicinity. Their raised voices reach his ears and he
realises that he can't hear Laura anymore. A steep incline blocks his view of
whatever is happening. Instead of charging into the fray like he is sorely
tempted to do, he keeps his steps quiet and light and closes the distance
between himself and the arguing, darting covertly between the trees as an extra
precaution, fighting to keep his breathing even.
Derek tries to figure out the identity of the two strangers, but the voices are
so loud, one constantly shouting over the other, that he can't tell if he
recognises them or not. Using his nose, he tries to catch a whiff of one of
their scents, reluctantly moving closer when he is at first unsuccessful. He is
close to the top of the slope when their scents hit him and he immediately
knows who they are. Peering around the tree behind which he currently hides,
his suspicions are confirmed as he takes in the horrific scene. His uncles
Landon and Jeremy are stood facing each other, both with matching looks of
hatred plastered across their faces. He takes in that Landon's stance is
aggressive, whereas Jeremy's is protective. He spares a moment to wonder why
before he spies Laura on the ground behind the dark-haired man. The alpha-in-
training lies piteously in the dirt a short distance away, unmoving.
Seeing his sister lying that still terrifies Derek with the thought that she
must be dead, but after a moment he picks up on the sound of her sluggish
heartbeat through Landon and Jeremy's shouting and breathes a sigh of relief.
He worries about why she is unconscious, but from the way his uncles are
standing off against each other, he pieces together that Landon must have
something to do with it. The yelling comes to an abrupt end as the two men
begin circling each other. Just as he is about to step out of his hiding place
and ask what the hell is going on, Landon leaps at Jeremy, shoving him back
harshly. Jeremy stumbles back several feet until his back connects with a
sickening thud against the trunk of the tree next to which Derek currently
hides. The young beta recoils as Landon instantly cages Jeremy in, an arm
braced across the latter's throat to hold him in place.
"What's the matter, brother? I know you knew this was coming, so why you do
look so shocked?" Landon yells aggressively, so worked up that spittle flies
unbidden from his mouth. Instead of waiting for an answer, he increases the
pressure on Jeremy's throat, causing the brunet to gasp desperately for air.
Before Derek can come to his rescue, Jeremy holds his hand up and uses a small
wave of energy to blast Landon off of him, sending the other man flying several
feet away to land heavily on the ground. The magic fills the air with its
distinctive scent. He rubs his neck as he attempts to catch his breath again.
When Landon starts picking himself back up, a hand clutching his ribs on his
left side which took the brunt of the impact, Jeremy steps away from the tree
and circles back around his brother so he's again standing between his blond
counterpart and Laura. He catches sight of Derek peering around the tree and
shakes his head, indicating that he should stay where he is.
Derek reluctantly obeys, fully intent on intervening anyway if things look like
they're getting out of hand.
"Why are you going this?!" Jeremy interrogates, hands clenched at his sides.
"Why now?"
Landon glares up at Jeremy as he gets to his feet, casually brushing the dust
and dirt from his clothes. "You really don't know? That makes you a lot less
intelligent than I gave you credit for..." He shakes his head condescendingly.
"Fine, I'll tell you." He crosses his arms over his puffed-out chest. "I'm
doing it for the simplest reason, really. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of everyone
always fawning over you while I'm left at the sidelines. It's always been that
way, ever since we were kids and Tony helped you start all this magic shit. We
were close before that, but then suddenly I wasn't good enough for anyone
anymore! Well, I'm finally going to take what was rightfully mine to begin
with!"
Derek is baffled by Landon's outburst. He knew from his thankfully brief
interactions with his less favoured uncle that the man harboured some animosity
toward Jeremy, but he never would have guessed that it was severe enough to
cause the scene he's currently witnessing.
"If you've been so damn mad at me all these years, why not come and talk to me?
I could've helped you! Why take it out on Laura? She's done nothing but be nice
to you," Jeremy argues, incredulity clear on his face. He is distracted from
Landon's resulting monologue when he hears a pained groan from behind himself.
As if she heard her name being spoken, Laura begins to wake up, rolling
lethargically over onto her back. Jeremy quickly turns away from Landon's rage-
filled words to help coax her back into the land of the living.
Derek's eyes widen in shock when Landon slips a knife out from the waistband of
his jeans. His shocked expression quickly shifts to one of confusion when,
instead of attacking Jeremy like he was expecting, Landon rolls up his sleeves
and begins carving into the skin of his forearms with the blade. The scent of
blood quickly permeates the air. Derek muffles the few choked noises of disgust
that try to escape. When Landon switches arms, he catches a glimpse of the
first arm he began mutilating and immediately wishes he hadn't. Several hastily
made symbols and runes run in a row down the centre toward his inner wrist and
the whole expanse of skin is painted a harsh red. He doesn't know what any of
the runes mean, but he does know they can't be meant for anything good.
By the time Jeremy has Laura sitting up and blinking sluggishly—with a hand
clutching her shoulder to help steady her—Landon is finished marking up his
second arm. When Jeremy looks up again and catches sight of Landon's handiwork,
his mouth falls open in horror and when he speaks, his voice quavers in fear,
confirming Derek's earlier assumption.
"What have you done?" Jeremy whispers, eyes wide as he shakes his head in
disbelief. He shakily gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving the marks Landon
proudly displays on his arms.
Landon chuckles darkly, a wicked grin corrupting what would otherwise be a
handsome face. "I've been studying, brother. After all, I can't take what's
mine when you can so easily knock me out with a simple flick of the wrist. Now
I have the upper hand; while you've been growing your precious powers," his
grin morphs into a sneer, "I've been training to take you down in a more basic
manner. I wonder how well you'll fare now that you're stuck with hand-to-hand
combat..." At that, he starts advancing toward Jeremy, knife still in hand,
leaving a red trail in his wake as small droplets of blood fall to the preserve
floor. The stench of it gets worse. He walks slowly, no doubt in a cruel show
of just how little a threat he now feels the other man to be.
Jeremy looks panicked. In what Derek thinks must be a last-ditch effort to
subdue his wayward brother, he throws his hands up wildly and sends another
shockwave of energy at Landon. The last spark of hope that remained on his face
quickly vanishes when the magic just passes right through his brother, his
advance unstopped. By this point, Laura appears to have fully gathered her
bearings and, realising what is about to happen, leaps immediately to her feet
and steps between her two uncles, snarling at Landon. Said man pauses and
almost doubles over in a fit of laughter that makes Derek's blood boil.
When he catches his breath again, Landon stands back up straight, sneer once
again in place. "Really, puppy? Didn't you learn from the last time I wiped the
floor with your sad little ass just a few minutes ago?" he taunts, hoping to
bait his niece into becoming reckless. Although he possesses more skill when it
comes to fighting, Landon knows that Laura still has the advantage of
heightened strength on her side.
Before she can attack, however, hands clasp around Laura's shoulders and she is
sent stumbling backward, almost falling in her surprise. She looks up at Jeremy
in shock and confusion.
Landon watches the scene with rapt attention.
"Not this time, sweetheart," Jeremy soothes. "This is my fight. I won't let you
get hurt by him again..." Before she can object, he touches a finger to her
forehead and mutters a few words so quietly that Derek can't make them out.
Jeremy guides Laura to the ground when her body sags, where she lies
unconscious once more. He brushes her long, brown hair from her face
affectionately.
"Aww, you just love to spoil my fun, don't you?" Landon muses, sticking his
bottom lip out in a fake pout.
Jeremy is immediately back on his feet, his previously tender expression now
one of pure rage. "Like I said, this is my fight," his eyes flash briefly over
to meet Derek's and the beta knows by his uncle's inflection that Jeremy means
for him to stay where he is, "and I don't want anyone getting in the way of me
finally putting an end to this pointless feud."
The two brothers stare at each other—one set of eyes holding laughter and
condescension within their depths while the other is simply resigned. The air
seems to stand still for a second before they both lunge at each other
simultaneously. They meet in a tangle of limbs in the centre of the clearing.
While the two men go at each other, Derek creeps out of his hiding place and
hurries warily around them in a wide arc toward his sister. When he reaches
Laura, he shoves his hands under her arms and hastily drags her behind the
trees to safety. He is slightly unnerved at how motionless she is, but his
faith that Jeremy would never do anything to hurt her puts his mind at ease.
The sounds of fighting intensify, punctuated by an infuriated scream, and he
instantly abandons Laura where she is now propped up against a tree trunk and
risks a glance into the clearing. He is worried when he sees several bruises
and cuts marring Jeremy's bearded face, but that worry turns to cautious
optimism when he sees that Landon isn't in a better state.
The blond looks worse in fact, most likely because the blood that was still
leaking from the wounds on his arms is now smeared across his face, making him
look even more savage than he already did. For a few seconds, it appears that
Jeremy is gaining the upper hand, proving Landon's earlier assumption to be
false, but in an instant everything changes. Landon manages to dodge a
carelessly thrown punch and is able to dart his hand forward before Jeremy can
recover. The blade still gripped in said hand sinks itself into Jeremy's
stomach and the man cries out in agony as his flesh is split apart around the
cold metal.
Derek is too shocked to move, unable to grasp the enormity of what has just
happened.
Both men stand eerily still—Landon in triumph and Jeremy in shock—before Landon
vindictively twists the knife, his other hand gripping Jeremy's shoulder to
hold his victim in place. When Jeremy begins choking on his own blood, Landon
harshly yanks out the knife and steps back. Without any form of support, Jeremy
sinks to his knees. His hands scrabble over the wound in his abdomen.
"See? I told you that you were no match for me without your magic," Landon
mocks, wiping the blade off insouciantly on the hem of his shirt before cutting
two more runes into the backs of his hands.
Jeremy tries to stumble away, crawling on his hands and knees to get some
distance between himself and his brother.
When Landon finishes the last cut, he tucks the knife back into the waistband
of his jeans. "Now then, let's get this over with, shall we?" Catching up to
Jeremy, he leans down and flips the wounded man onto his back. "You know what
these are?" He proudly displays the new runes on his hands.
Jeremy spits the blood in his mouth out onto the ground before answering.
"Yes," he chokes out.
"Good!" Landon smiles, taking Jeremy's face in his hands.
When Landon begins muttering words under his breath, Derek bounds into the
clearing and goes straight for him. Before he can push the man off of Jeremy,
the blond snaps his brother's neck, lets his body drop and leaps away, avoiding
the attack.
"You're too late, Derek. I've already got what I wanted," Landon says giddily.
To prove his point, he holds up his hands and Derek gapes when they start to
glow with the magic he stole from Jeremy. "Now it's mine. You sure you still
want to do this?" When Derek just growls and lunges again, he laughs happily
and blasts him back behind the tree line. When the younger Hale doesn't
immediately reemerge, Landon turns slowly in a circle, already anticipating
Derek's next move. He clenches his hands and gathers all his power in his
fists.
When Landon's back is turned, Derek darts out from the other side of the
clearing and tries to sink his claws into his uncle's neck. Before he can make
contact, however, the man spins around and punches Derek square in the chin.
The beta recoils in pain and falls to the ground clutching his broken jaw, the
shock shifting him back to human. Before he has time to heal, Landon pushes him
onto his back and straddles his waist.
"These powers sure are useful, aren't they? My brother was always an idiot at
using them, though. If he'd done the little trick I just did, he could've
knocked me out instantly and he'd probably still be alive," Landon taunts,
chuckling when Derek tries in vain to buck him off. Another series of punches
to the face shocks the teen into lying still. "I heard you last night, you
know," he sneers. "All of the bedrooms may be soundproofed, but that only works
when whoever is in them actively wants it to. You clearly wanted someone to
overhear. Your talk with my brother was mighty interesting, I have to say..."
He smirks when Derek glares up at him.
"You think you're gonna get away with this?" Derek asks weakly, the pain in his
jaw making it difficult to get the words out. "My mom will stop you. She'll
already know about Jeremy—she'd have felt her connection to him die—and right
now I bet she's already on her way to take you down."
Landon coos at Derek and grips his jaw tightly in his hand, making the beta cry
out when the pain gets worse. "I know, I know... In fact," he closes his eyes
and focuses his magic, "I can sense the pack coming to your rescue right now.
Luckily for you, I need to be long gone before they get here." With one last
punch to Derek's head, Landon stands up and flees.
Derek stays lying where he is on the ground, blinking past the spots in his
vision and trying to stay awake. He can only hear one other
heartbeat—Laura's—and when he turns his head he can see Jeremy's body lying
just a few feet away, lifeless. One tear slips out before he succumbs to
unconsciousness.
                                     * * *
When Derek wakes up, the first thing he registers is that he's now lying on
something soft. The second thing he notices is that he can no longer smell the
preserve. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself on his bed in his room. His
head spins when he sits up and he has to hold a hand to his forehead until the
dizziness passes. When he opens his eyes again, he takes in the state of his
clothes, which are still covered in Landon's blood.
"Der?" a voice says quietly from the doorway.
Derek turns to see Laura leaning against the frame. "Laura? How did I get back
here?" he asks, hopping up from the bed and immediately drawing the girl into a
hug. He pulls back and scans her body quickly for any injuries. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you...do you remember what happened?" Laura enquires
worriedly, her eyes glassy.
Derek frowns at her in confusion before casting his mind back and trying to
remember the events leading up to their current conversation. When Landon's
betrayal and Jeremy's death flash behind his eyes, he gasps and stumbles back.
"Is he really dead?" he asks, his voice wavering. When Laura doesn't answer,
tears spring to his eyes and he falls to the floor. Laura's arms quickly
embrace his shaking form.
                                     * * *
Five days later, Derek still can't believe that his favourite uncle is gone. He
hasn't left his room since he woke up and no amount of begging from Laura or
his mother can get him to eat more than a few bites of food. After Laura
finishes ranting at him again to try and get him to leave his bed, she storms
out of his room and slams the door behind herself. He lies there for a while,
thinking. When he pictures how distraught Laura's face was during her tirade,
he feels terrible for how much he's worrying everyone. He figures they all must
be going through enough without having to worry about his wellbeing, too.
Swinging his legs out of bed, he stands up slowly when his feet touch the floor
and walks over to his door, opening it and stepping out into the hall. He stops
when he hears his mother talking downstairs.
"I'm worried about him. All of this coming so soon after what happened with
Paige...I'm worried this might end up being too much. He won't talk to anybody,
not even Laura, and he hasn't been to school in almost a week. I'm running out
of excuses to give them," Talia says, her voice shrill with worry.
Derek grips the handrail at the top of the stairs. Ever since that day in the
preserve, his body has healed physically but his mind has been slow and tired.
"Maybe it'd be best if I helped him forget about what happened... He'd be back
to his old self and everything would go back to normal."
Just as Derek wonders who his mom is talking to, his dad's voice joins hers.
"It's a quick fix, sure, but are you positive that it's such a good idea?"
Nathan asks. "You'd have to take all of his memories of Landon and Jeremy for
that to work. I'm not sure the rest of the pack will go for that."
Derek descends the stairs and walks toward the voices coming from Talia's
study. The door is carelessly left ajar and he pushes it open easily. Both of
his parents look up from their conversation and stare at him in shock.
"You're up," Talia comments dumbly, getting up from her chair and guiding him
fully into the room with an arm around his shoulders, kicking the door shut
behind him. "How are you feeling?" She leads him over to the chair she
previously occupied and makes him sit.
"You should do it," Derek says, bent over and staring at his feet. "You should
just make me forget."
Nathan reaches forward and grips a hand on Derek's knee. "Are you sure, Derek?
This is a big decision."
"I'm sure. Having to remember what Landon did, reliving it again and
again...it's too hard." Derek blinks back tears and looks up at his mother
pleadingly. "Please just take them."
Talia takes a deep breath before nodding. "OK, I'll do it. You'll fall
unconscious afterward and, when you wake up, you won't remember anything about
Landon or Jeremy. It'll be like they never existed. I'll have a talk with the
rest of the pack to make sure they don't say anything to you about them."
"Laura's not going to like this..." Nathan points out, withdrawing his hand and
slumping back in his chair.
"I'll get her to come around," Talia says before she moves to stand behind
Derek. She runs a hand through is hair lovingly before letting her claws come
out. Pressing the tips to Derek's tanned skin, she counts down from three
before her eyes flash red and she pierces the back of Derek's neck.
***** Confessions *****
Stiles sits awkwardly in his living room as he waits for Derek to finish
reliving his missing memories. He looks up helplessly at Danny, who is now sat
on the arm of the sofa next to Isaac, and grimaces when Derek's grip on his
hands gets even stronger. They've been numb from the alpha's hold for several
long minutes now, Stiles having resigned himself to his fate after his first
and only attempt to extricate himself yielded no results. "I can't feel my
hands..." he whines weakly, the pout on his face intensifying when instead of
the sympathy he had been looking for, Danny does nothing but laugh at his pain.
"I think I preferred you before you got together with Isaac... You were nicer
then." He pouts petulantly.
"Relax, Stiles... It can't be much longer now," Danny assures, rubbing a hand
up and down Isaac's back when the curly-haired beta shudders slightly. "I
wonder what it's like, seeing someone else's memories," he muses, his hand
coming to a stop at the small of Isaac's back.
"It probably wouldn't be that bad under different circumstances," Stiles
theorises, staring intently at Derek's face. The alpha's features are drawn
into a deep frown, his top lip twitching every now and then as if he wants to
pull it back and snarl at whatever he's seeing. He winces in sympathy when a
deep growl rumbles from Derek's chest. "I hope whatever they're seeing isn't
too upsetting... I'll feel terrible if this plan leads to another freak out."
Danny tears his eyes away from Isaac and looks at Stiles instead. "I'm sure
Derek will be able to handle it, but it wouldn't be your fault even if it did
lead to that," he states confidently, raising his eyebrows as if daring Stiles
to disagree.
"You say that, but I wouldn't be able to stop myself feeling guilty anyway,"
Stiles mutters, slumping sideways into the back of the sofa and dropping his
gaze down to his and Derek's entwined hands.
"I thought it was Derek's job to play the martyr, or have you taken over?"
Danny jokes, standing and making his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of
water.
Stiles watches his packmate through the doorway. He doesn't reply until Danny
steps back into the room, glass in hand, and resumes his task of sitting vigil
over Isaac. "That's not what I'm doing," he says quietly. "It's just, this was
my idea and it was the only one I could come up with. I can't help but worry
about what we could possibly do to beat this thing if this doesn't end up
working, either by not giving us answers or by being too much for Derek to
handle."
Danny studies the way Stiles continues to stare worriedly at Derek. "You really
love him, don't you?" he asks tentatively, knowing the subject he's bringing up
is a very sensitive one and not wanting to scare the human into clamming up. A
small smile graces his lips when he gets exactly the reaction he was expecting.
Stiles immediately sits upright at Danny's question, staring at his friend like
a deer in headlights, mouth agape. His limbs would probably be flailing as well
if his hands weren't still restrained. "I-I don't know what you're talking
about..." he stutters out feebly. "I don't think about Derek that way." He
looks away and tries to regain his composure, but the building heat in his
cheeks lets him know that he's failing miserably. When he hears Danny
guffawing, he levels a glare in the Hawaiian's direction in hopes of shutting
his packmate up and putting an end to the current topic of conversation. When
Danny slips onto the floor from the intensity of his laughter, he purses his
lips to stop from smiling at the other boy's antics.
Wiping tears from his eyes, Danny gets back up from where he'd fallen off of
the sofa and reclaims his spot behind Isaac. "You should know you can't lie to
a werewolf by now, dude," he teases, his expression softening when he sees how
uncomfortable Stiles looks. "Seriously though, the way you were looking at
Derek just now...you couldn't make your feelings any more obvious if you tried.
It's a wonder that Derek hasn't picked up on them yet, but then again, I don't
think he's particularly observant when it comes to things like this. I don't
think Scott knows, and Jackson didn't know either."
"Didn't?!" Stiles squawks, alarmed. "As in past tense?"
Danny looks down guiltily. "Uh, yeah... Yesterday, after the attack in Derek's
loft, Jackson asked about that thing calling you Derek's 'mate' and Erica told
him how you feel. Apparently she, Allison and Lydia had this whole elaborate
plan to try and get the two of you together." At Stiles' shocked expression, he
explains further. "Yeah, that part was news to me, too, though I'm not
surprised; Lydia's always liked sticking her nose into places other people
would say it doesn't belong. Anyway, their plan was to get you two alone
together when everyone's lives weren't in imminent danger and see if anything
would happen."
"I'm guessing that's why Lydia paired me and Derek together when we were all
looking for Jackson yesterday? And also why he'll be staying here until he
finds a new place instead of at anyone else's house?" Stiles asks, shaking his
head when Danny nods to confirm his theories. "Figures... You should tell them
that while I appreciate the effort, they should just stop before Derek actually
does find out and gets mad or starts feeling awkward around me. I don't want
that."
Speechless, Danny looks at Stiles in confusion before the realisation hits him
that the nervous teen doesn't know his feelings are returned. "I don't know...
Derek might just surprise you."
Before he can ask what Danny means, Stiles is interrupted when Isaac comes out
his trance with a gasp and suddenly yanks his hand away from Derek's neck.
Disoriented, Isaac stumbles backward and is saved from falling on his ass when
Danny grabs his arm and guides him to sit on the coffee table. Immediately
after settling, the curly-haired wolf pulls out all of Derek's mother's claws
from his nail beds and tosses them carelessly down onto the wooden surface next
to him. Danny saves the claws from sliding off onto the floor. Isaac winces in
pain when his nails splinter off, but his panic is quickly abated when they
start to grow back and heal almost immediately. Satisfied, both betas turn to
check on the two still seated on the sofa.
Stiles peers warily at Derek. The alpha remains sat unmoving in front of him,
clutching his hands in a death grip. "Derek?" he calls, his voice quiet in an
attempt to avoid startling the man unnecessarily. When Derek doesn't respond,
he lifts one of his arms, hands still connected, and gently nudges one of his
bearded cheeks. Relief floods Stiles' system when Derek's eyes finally open.
Derek looks around the room, the sudden change in surroundings leaving him
slightly bewildered.
"Did it work?" Stiles asks, dropping both his and Derek's hands back down so
they rest across where their knees are touching.
The movement draws Derek's attention. The alpha's frown intensifies when he
sees the slight discolouration of the skin of Stiles' hands, the result of the
lack of blood flow his tight grip is causing. He immediately relinquishes his
hold and starts massaging both of Stiles' hands with his own in an effort to
fix it. "Yeah..." is all he says. After he finishes getting the circulation
back into Stiles' hands, he gets up from the sofa and staggers into the kitchen
to retrieve a glass of water. The trip down memory lane has left him feeling
somehow parched. When he reenters the living room, he sits down next to Stiles
again and leans wearily back into the cushions.
Stiles watches Derek in concern, not liking the despondent expression on his
face. "Are you OK?" he asks, leaning forward and resting a hand on the alpha's
shoulder in an attempt to comfort that even he knows is flimsy at best.
Instead of replying to Stiles' question, Derek turns to Isaac—who is still sat
on the coffee table with Danny—and asks one of his own. "Did you see
everything?" he enquires, hoping for a positive response so he doesn't have to
go through the discomfort of explaining everything by himself.
Isaac nods his affirmation, taking Derek's mother's claws from Danny when the
other beta holds them out in his hand. He puts them back into the black glass
jar he found them in back at Peter's cabin, resting it on the table between
them after putting the lid back on. "I did. It was...weird and eye-opening, to
say the least. I know it probably doesn't make a difference now, but I'm sorry
about what happened." His eyes are wet with unshed tears, the leftover emotions
he felt from the memories not having quite left his system yet.
"What does he mean?" Stiles asks restlessly, impatient to finally get some
answers that will lead to the rescue of his dad, Jackson and Allison. He pushes
the secondary reason for his curiosity—his need to know everything he can about
Derek—to the back of his mind.
Derek sighs in defeat, knowing he can't put off talking about it any longer.
"This thing attacking us? Apparently it used to be part of my family," he
starts, nodding when both Danny and Stiles make noises of shock and disbelief.
"Yeah, another uncle of mine..."
Before Derek can get any further in his explanation, realisation spreads over
Danny's face and, hurling a hurried, "Hold on a second!" over his shoulder, he
darts from the room and out of the front door to his car. The other three are
left staring after the Hawaiian teen in surprise. When he reenters the room, he
holds a series of documents in his hands. "Here," he pants, his haste to
retrieve the files leaving him slightly out of breath. When Derek just looks at
him dumbly, he drops the papers in the alpha's lap and sits back down next to
Isaac. "I found those at Peter's place. They're old files on your family.
There's a family tree in there; I would've mentioned them sooner but I forgot
them in my car and only remembered when you mentioned having other relatives."
Flipping open the topmost file, Derek shuffles through the various papers in
search of the family tree, pausing briefly to smile when he comes across old
report cards belonging to Laura and Cora. When that file fails to yield what
he's looking for, he hands it off to Stiles when the human teen holds his hand
out in invitation before starting to sort through the second. As soon as the
next file is open, he finds himself staring at a faded piece of paper, upon
which are written the various names of his family, all connected to each other
through a series of elegantly drawn lines. He finds himself listed at the
bottom, his birthday written underneath his name in a tidy scrawl that he
recognises as his mother's. Next to him are Laura and Cora, and the three of
them are connected to the names of his parents, Talia and Nathan Hale, who in
turn are linked to three others.
Peter Hale comes next and, sure enough, next to that are the names Jeremy and
Landon Hale.
"They really existed..." Derek whispers, his voice hoarse from trying not to
tear up. He runs a finger almost reverently over Jeremy's name. Even though he
remembers how painful everything had been after his death, he is angry at his
past self for choosing to forget about his favourite uncle. It feels like such
an insult to his memory now. Thinking it over some more, his eyes widen when he
remembers coming across Jeremy's name on one of the walls in his family's
mausoleum. He's always just assumed the man was an ancestor that died decades
ago or something.
Stiles peers over Derek's shoulder at his family tree. "Is it Jeremy?" he asks
when he sees the name the alpha is focused on, blinking in confusion when Derek
shakes his head.
"No... Apparently Jeremy was my favourite uncle. He and Landon," he taps a
finger over the latter's name, "were twins, both adopted. I didn't like Landon
much, and now I know it was with good reason. Jeremy was our pack's
emissary—like Jennifer was for Kali's pack, but not insane—and Landon was
always jealous of how much everyone loved him. He didn't have any powers
himself, so he went after Jeremy." He takes a deep breath in an attempt to reel
back his emotions. Closing the file still in his lap, he hands that off to
Stiles as well.
When Derek doesn't continue recounting his rediscovered memories, Stiles flicks
his eyes over at Isaac and Danny and wonders whether this might be better if
Derek didn't have as much of an audience. Looking imploringly at the two betas,
he tilts his head up at the ceiling, indicating that he wants them to wait in
his bedroom. They both get up silently and make their way upstairs. When he
hears the click of his bedroom door being closed, Stiles dumps the files on the
newly vacated coffee table and shuffles sideways, closer to Derek.
"Where'd those two go?" Derek asks, baffled.
"I thought all of this might be easier for you to talk about if there were less
people around gawking at you. Besides, we've been talking about some intense
shit for a lot of today already, so what's a little more?" Stiles smiles
reassuringly, nudging Derek's shoulder with his own. "Isaac can fill Danny in
if he gets impatient. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he already is," he
chuckles, knowing that if their places were reversed, he'd be just as curious.
He still is, in fact.
"Oh... Well, thanks, I guess," Derek says, surprised at Stiles' thoughtfulness.
He focuses his hearing and, just like Stiles thought, he hears Isaac's muffled
voice talking upstairs. "Anyway, like I was saying earlier, Landon wanted to
get all of the attention that uncle Jeremy had. This all happened several
months before the fire. I never liked Landon, had always gotten a bad feeling
from him. He didn't exactly help himself by dressing like an asshole, but
still. My mom and Jeremy seemed to trust him, so that was good enough for me at
the time." He turns to look out of the living room window and smiles when he
sees a young girl skipping down the sidewalk with her mother trailing along in
her wake, the woman looking exhausted but happy nevertheless. "A couple of
months after everything that happened with Paige—you do know what happened
there, right?" he asks, hoping for a 'yes' so he doesn't have to dig up those
painful memories as well.
Stiles nods in confirmation. "Yeah, Peter told me and Cora when you disappeared
after Ethan and Aiden tried to get you to kill Boyd."
Relieved, Derek continues. "Well, I wasn't exactly in a good place then. Jeremy
was away on pack business when she died and he didn't get back until the day
before Landon happened. He noticed something wasn't right with me and got me to
talk about it all. The next day, I was walking in the preserve, dreading the
weekly training that my mom made us all take part in because I didn't want to
be around everyone's good moods, when I came across Landon and Jeremy arguing.
Now that I think about it, I think it was in the same clearing where Jackson
disappeared." He makes a mental note to double check that fact later. "Anyway,
when I got there, they started fighting each other. Landon had carved something
into his arms that stopped Jeremy's magic from affecting him, so they were
evenly matched. Before I could step in to help, Landon used the knife, stabbed
Jeremy and took his power."
Derek finds himself unable to carry on until Stiles slips a hand in his,
lending him strength. "Landon then used Jeremy's magic to take me down when I
attacked him for he had done. I didn't stand a chance. Before he could kill me,
too, my mom showed up and chased him off. It happened so soon after Paige that
it all grew to be too much; Jeremy's death was the straw that broke the camel's
back. I overheard my mom talking to my dad. She was so worried about what I
might do that she suggested she take my memories of what happened that day. I
agreed. That's why this thing knows me. He's my uncle Landon." Derek squeezes
Stiles' hand in thanks.
Stiles squeezes back before letting go. He picks up the files Danny brought
back from Peter's place and rifles through them again. "So we know who it is...
Now we just need to figure out why he's back and what he's after. Any ideas?"
He briefly looks up at Derek from the papers in his hands.
Derek shakes his head. "No, but back at the loft he did say that he had plans
for you, so you definitely factor in there somewhere."
"Really? I don't remember that; that whole day is kind of a blur. Doesn't bode
well for me, though..." Stiles says despondently, dropping the files on Derek's
family back in their folders. The family tree is still on the top.
"You'll be fine, Stiles. I won't let anything happen to you," Derek comforts,
taking the files from the teen and dropping them on the floor next to the sofa
before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently shifting them both
sideways.
Stiles is too shocked to put up any sort of protest and just lets himself be
manhandled so he's practically lying atop Derek. He wonders why Derek said 'I'
instead of 'we', his bemusement growing even more when Derek wraps his other
arm around his torso and hugs their bodies even tighter together. "You never
stop confusing me..." he mutters under his breath as he sinks back into Derek's
hold. When he feels the alpha tense up behind him, he realises that the man
must have heard his words. Stupid werewolf hearing, he curses silently, waiting
for Derek's reaction to his words. He is relieved when, after a couple of
seconds, the alpha simply relaxes once more and tucks his rough chin over his
shoulder. Just as he thinks he's out of the woods, he is startled when Derek
speaks, his voice quiet from where his mouth is pressed close to Stiles' neck.
"What do you mean?" Derek asks, his breath puffing out across the back of
Stiles' ear and making the human teen shiver.
Stiles contemplates ignoring the question, but he doesn't want to be that rude
to Derek and instead sighs in resignation. "You confuse me. This?" He grips one
of the man's arms and shakes it lightly where it still rests across his
stomach. "I know you're my alpha or whatever, but I don't understand why you've
been so nice to me these past few days."
Derek hears Isaac and Danny's conversation upstairs cut off at Stiles' words,
the two betas no doubt trying to eavesdrop on what he has to say. He tucks his
face further into Stiles' neck and inhales his intoxicating scent as he tries
to find the right words to not freak the teen out too much or pressure him at
all. "I think this will go best if I just start from the beginning. This isn't
going to be easy for me to say, so can you promise me that you won't interrupt,
that you'll just let me get it all out before you react?" He waits for Stiles'
nod before continuing. "So...you used to annoy the hell out of me when we first
met." He chuckles to himself, remembering how Stiles' constant rambling used to
drive him up the wall. He pulls himself together again when Stiles elbows him
in the ribs.
"As if dealing with Scott's petulance wasn't enough," Derek continues,
"wherever he went, you were there as well, always talking my head off. I guess
if I had to narrow it down, it was around the time when we were trying to stop
Gerard and Jackson, when he was the kanima. After the incident in the pool, I
stopped seeing you as just being in the way and started to realise how useful
you could really be. My wolf took a serious liking to you that day." He hears
Danny sniggering upstairs and Isaac telling the laughing boy to shut up. A loud
thud follows, which he assumes is Danny being pushed off of Stiles' bed. "I
didn't realise what was going on until everything happened with the Nogitsune,
when everyone was worried that we were going to lose you." Derek's voice is
just a whisper, his thumb rubbing back and forth across Stiles' stomach through
his thin shirt.
Stiles' heart skips at the mention of his past tormentor. He quickly clamps
down on those horrific memories before they can overwhelm him and focuses
instead of Derek's next words.
"It was then that I realised what I felt for you had progressed beyond simple
friendship," Derek whispers, keeping his voice low so only Stiles is able to
hear him. The sound of Stiles' heartbeat is almost deafening as it speeds up.
"I was so damn worried. When we saved you, I was relieved that you were
alright, but then you stopped talking and started to keep to yourself more and
I was worried all over again. I wanted to be around you all the time to make
sure you were doing OK, but I kept my distance as much as I was able and let
Scott and Lydia handle it because I didn't want to overwhelm you. I knew you
were nowhere near a place back then where you would be able to handle what I'm
about to say—and even now isn't the best time with Landon on the loose and
several pack members missing—but I don't think my wolf will let me hold it in
any longer."
Stiles holds his breath when Derek pauses, his imagination running away from
him as words he's longed to hear for months but never thought he would float
through his mind.
"Stiles..." Derek holds the teen even tighter, nerves flooding his system until
his heart almost matches the rapid pace of the boy in question's. "I...I'm in
love with you."
The words are so quiet that Stiles isn't sure at first what they are. "What?"
he asks, twisting his body around until he's facing Derek. "What did you just
say?"
Unable to look Stiles in the eye, Derek rests his forehead on the teen's
shoulder and repeats the words more forcefully. "I'm in love with you." He
fears the worst when Stiles says nothing in response. "It's OK if you don't
feel the same. I never expected you to return my feelings... Just try not to be
too mad at me, OK?" Relinquishing his hold around the teen, he tries to pull
away and leave the room to escape his embarrassment, but when he makes to get
up from the sofa he finds his progress impeded by a hand gripping his wrist.
"Are you serious?" Stiles asks weakly, his eyes wide as he stares up into
Derek's. "You can't just say something like that and then leave!"
Derek winces at the harshness of Stiles' voice. "I'm sorry..." he mutters
feebly, halfheartedly trying to shake off the teen's hand.
Stiles' eyes soften when he sees how sad Derek looks and takes a breath to calm
himself before speaking again. "You don't have to apologise, Derek. Just get
your furry butt back down here before I make you." He tugs on Derek's arm and
smiles when the wolf complies. He takes Derek's hands in his own, the action
reminding him of how they were sitting not even an hour before. "Now...you love
me?" he asks, stroking his thumbs along the backs of Derek's hands. When the
wolf refuses to meet his eyes, he lets go of one of the wolf's hands and fits
his bearded cheek into his palm.
Derek nods tightly. "I love you," he says again, leaning into Stiles' hand. He
is shocked when, instead of the rejection he'd been expecting, Stiles launches
forward and presses their lips together. When his brain finally catches up with
what's happening, he closes his eyes and kisses Stiles back before the teen can
move away again.
Stiles moans into the kiss when Derek's tongue slips past his lips, his hands
moving to grip the alpha's shoulders firmly as Derek's fingers tangle in his
hair. He pulls away after a minute, gasping for breath, and rests their
foreheads together. "I love you, too," he says breathlessly. "I can't believe
this is really happening..."
"Me neither," Derek says, unable to stop the grin the spreads across his face.
He pulls back and sees a matching expression on Stiles' face.
"From how you've been acting recently, I thought there was a small chance you
might feel the same, but I figured it was just wishful thinking making me see
things that weren't actually there," Stiles says, linking their hands together
again.
They're both startled out of their little bubble when the door to Stiles'
bedroom slams open and Isaac shouts, "It's about damn time!" down the stairs.
***** News *****
After Isaac's loud proclamation, Stiles and Derek sit motionless on the sofa as
Isaac and Danny come back downstairs. Both teens are smirking when they reenter
the living room and Isaac starts waggling his eyebrows suggestively when he
catches Stiles' eye, causing the other teen to blush and look away in
embarrassment. Isaac's earlier dark mood caused by experiencing Derek's
memories has all but evaporated in light of more recent events. The curly-
haired teen drags Danny along by the hand so that they're both sitting back in
their spot on the coffee table across from Derek and Stiles. He chuckles
quietly at the look of shock on his alpha's face. "You two couldn't have made
it more obvious if you tried. The UST was seriously getting out of hand."
"‘UST’?" Derek asks apprehensively. "Do I even want to know?" He's sure that
the answer to his question will be one he doesn't like very much.
"It stands for 'unresolved sexual tension'," Danny informs. Both he and Isaac
break out into uncontrollable fits of laughter when Derek splutters
indignantly.
"Unbelievable..." Derek mutters with disdain, turning away from the cackling
betas. A reluctant smile creeps onto his face when he sees that Stiles is
watching the other two teens fondly. He squeezes his hand to draw Stiles'
attention away from his packmates and feels his heart skip a beat when he is
gifted with a shy smile. It's one he has seen directed at him many times. He
has always thought that everybody was the recipient of that smile at one point
or another, but now, casting his mind back to the past few months when the pack
has been closer, he realises that he cannot think of an instance where Stiles
has given this smile to anyone else but him. He should know, given that most of
his time lately has been spent watching the teen as surreptitiously as
possible. The thought makes his heart beat faster.
After what feels like hours, Danny and Isaac finally manage to pull themselves
together. "So what do we do with this new information?" Isaac asks eventually
after he's caught his breath again. Danny looks between the three, obviously
wanting the same answer.
Stiles thinks for a second before quickly coming to a conclusion. "I'd say it's
pretty obvious what our next move should be: we have no idea where Landon is,
what all of his powers are or why he wants me. The only thing we can do is try
to find Peter and find out why he took Derek's mom's claws. It's incredibly
suspicious that he would take them right when all of this is happening." The
other three nod their heads in understanding. "We should probably also check in
with Deaton and maybe even Morrell, too, see if any of this sounds familiar to
them. From what I understand, Landon just took Jeremy's magic, right?" He looks
to Derek for confirmation. When the alpha nods, the cogs can almost be seen
turning in Stiles' head as he puts his theory together. "It's been years since
that all happened, so Landon had to have been doing something in all that time
to get to how strong he is now."
"That sounds like a good plan to me. I'd love to hear what excuse Peter comes
up with this time..." Derek growls lowly, his sudden anger apparent. He calms
when Stiles leans subtly against him, looking into teen's eyes and taking
reassurance and comfort from what he finds there.
"Alrighty then," Isaac begins, breaking Stiles and Derek out of their staring
contest, "we'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Don't worry about filling
everyone in on the new plans; we'll take care of that so you can focus
on...other things." With a wink, he drags Danny out of the room and out of the
house. The sound of Danny's car starting up can be heard through the open
living room window, closely followed by the sound of retreating tires on
asphalt.
Stiles wrinkles his nose in distaste when the thought of what the two betas
will no doubt be doing once they get back to Danny's house crosses his mind.
Shaking the unsavoury thought out of his head, he shuffles sideways and goes
back to practically lying on top of Derek. A small giggle escapes when the
alpha lets out an involuntary squeak of surprise. "So, Sourwolf, what do we do
now?" he asks, tilting his head back and looking up at Derek from beneath his
eyelashes.
"You seem happy," is all Derek can think of to say. He brings a hand up and
starts running his fingers through Stiles' hair, earning a pleased hum.
"Well, I have a lot to be happy about right now, don't I?" Stiles points out,
laying his hand on top of Derek's where it rests again on his stomach.
"Reciprocated feelings and all that. It's definitely a new experience for me, I
can tell you. 'S a good one, though."
Derek makes a noise of agreement and scratches his nails along Stiles' scalp
when the teen pushes into his hand and whines quietly. They stay that way for
an indeterminate amount of time, so relaxed that all of their current troubles
seem to melt away. The only sounds to break the silence are the occasional
murmurs of contentment that Derek doubts Stiles knows he's making.
Eventually, though, Stiles shifts forward into a sitting position and looks
back over his shoulder at Derek. "As nice as this is, I feel like we should
actually be out there doing something like looking for Peter," he says,
resigned. "We'll have plenty of time to laze around with each other when we
stop Landon and get everyone back. I want to continue this—believe me, I do—but
I think it's kind of selfish of us to just hang out here doing nothing, right?"
When Stiles looks back at him, Derek can see that half of the teen obviously
wants him to disagree and say it's perfectly reasonable to forget about their
current situation and just stay curled up on the sofa all day, while the other
half is desperate to get his dad back. "I suppose you're right," he says
eventually, understanding Stiles' need to put his friends and family's
wellbeing first. The display of selflessness just reaffirms his love for the
kindhearted teen. "We should eat something before we start searching, though.
I'm kind of hungry again." He looks down, blushing when his stomach reiterates
his point. Stiles barks out a laugh at the sound, and the outburst is so
genuine and unexpected coming from the teen that Derek can't help but marvel at
how much he has improved in the past week alone.
"Alright, Mr. Eaty McEaterson, you go clean yourself up," Stiles instructs,
reaching a hand up to Derek's neck and scratching lightly at the faint traces
of dried blood that are still there from when Isaac had pierced his skin
earlier, "and I'll make us a snack, OK?" He smiles when Derek practically
starts purring adorably at his touch.
When Stiles pulls his hand away and heads into the kitchen, Derek snaps out of
his reverie and heads upstairs to the Stilinskis' bathroom. He hears the sounds
of the fridge and cupboards being opened and closed downstairs as he grabs a
washcloth and wipes his neck clean of his blood. After a quick inspection, he
declares himself to be finished and disposes of the soiled cloth in the laundry
basket. He relieves himself before flushing and going to rejoin Stiles on the
ground floor. "What are you cooking?" he asks when he enters the kitchen,
moving to peer over Stiles' shoulder where the teen stands at the stove and
noting the bowl of beige batter on the counter.
"I hope you're OK with pancakes," Stiles replies, glancing back and startling
at how close together they're now standing, the spatula in his hand falling
from his grip. The utensil is saved from clattering to the floor by Derek's
preternaturally quick reflexes. "Thanks," he mutters in embarrassment, taking
back the offered spatula and turning once more to face the frying pan in a
feeble attempt to hide the redness of his cheeks.
Derek grunts in acknowledgement, hooking a foot around one of the stools that
surround the island in the middle of the room and taking a seat, leaning back
with his elbows resting on the smooth surface. He watches Stiles work, smirking
in amusement when the teen almost drops the spatula again in his haste to flip
the pancake currently in danger of burning in the pan.
"Can you get a couple of plates out for me?" Stiles asks, flapping a hand in
the direction of the many cupboards that run along the walls above the
countertop.
"Sure." Derek starts rifling through the cupboards in question, opening and
closing the doors until he finds the right one. Selecting a couple of forest
green plates, he pulls them out and sets them down on the counter next to the
bowl of batter. His stomach rumbles again when Stiles slides the first pancake
from the spatula onto the china.
Soon enough, both plates are stacked high with the things and Stiles turns off
the gas on the stove and sets the frying pan in the sink to wash up later.
Grabbing a couple of forks from the drawer to his right, he hands Derek one of
the plates and sets his own down in the spot next to the alpha's. After
retrieving syrup and whipped cream from one of the cupboards and the fridge, he
takes his seat and pours a liberal amount of syrup atop his food, following it
up with an equally excessive amount of whipped cream.
Derek chuckles as he watches Stiles work, taking the cold can when the teen
offers it and spraying what he feels is a more sensible amount of whipped cream
on his own pancakes. He moans aloud when he takes his first bite, impressed at
how delicious the fluffy discs are. "These are so good!" he compliments, his
mouth still full as he savours the flavours. He is pleased when his words cause
Stiles to blush again.
"Thanks," Stiles says quietly, uncomfortable with the praise but thankful for
it anyway. They eat in companionable silence after that small exchange until
both plates are cleared. Stiles gathers the last of the syrup and cream from
his by swiping a finger across the surface, popping it into his mouth afterward
and sucking obscenely. He stares into Derek's eyes the entire time. He doesn't
know where the confidence for this display comes from, but he is grateful for
it when he gets he reaction he had been looking for.
Derek shifts awkwardly and draws his legs closer together in an attempt to hide
his semi-erection. He knows he's failed when he sees the glint in Stiles' eyes.
"Shut up," he deflects, taking both of their plates and putting them in the
sink on top of the frying pan.
Stiles laughs, unrestrained, almost slipping off of his stool. When he gathers
himself again, he wipes the tears from his eyes and looks up. His breath is
stolen from him as he takes in the mix of fondness and lust he sees on Derek's
face. "See something you like?" he teases. He feels his newfound confidence
start to slip away when Derek just continues to stare, his playful expression
morphing into one of concern. "Dude, you OK?"
Derek says nothing and just advances on the teen, gripping his face in his
hands and smashing their lips together in a fierce kiss. He feels Stiles gasp
in surprise, and this gives him the opening he needs to slide his tongue inside
the other's mouth. He groans when he tastes the syrup on Stiles' tongue, the
teen coming to his senses and starting to reciprocate, his slender hands coming
up to rest on his broad shoulders. The tightness of Derek's trousers increases
as he gets harder and he knows he should put a stop to this before it can go
any further, even though he thinks that Stiles would probably let it at this
point. Pulling back and resting their foreheads together, the two breathe
heavily as they recover from their impromptu make-out session.
"I guess that answers my question..." Stiles breathes, his eyes shut tight. He
pulls back after a few more seconds of basking in Derek's affections. The
alpha's pupils are blown wide with lust, making him look even more attractive.
"We are totally having sex as soon as this thing is over," he says, the words
slipping past his lips before he can stop them.
Derek's breath hitches and he fights vehemently against the urge to bend Stiles
over the countertop and push into him then and there. "Jesus, Stiles, you can't
just say things like that..." He steps back slightly to put some more space
between the two of them, the distance helping him control himself a great deal.
Stiles snorts. "Yeah, I know. Not really the time, huh?" he asks, resigned. He
supposes he can hold out for a few more days—he hopes Landon's defeat doesn't
take longer than that—until things progress any further. He knows he'll have a
severe case of blue balls by the end of the wait. "Alright, lemme brush my
teeth and then we'll head out and look for Peter." He gets up from his stool
and heads upstairs into the bathroom, jumping in surprise when he sees Derek
standing behind him in the mirror. He raises his eyebrows in question.
"My toothbrush is up here now, too, remember?" Derek says cheekily, taking the
object from where it rests beside Stiles'. Once they're both done, they spit in
the sink and head back downstairs—Stiles grabbing Derek's leather jacket from
where it still rests over the back of the sofa in the living room—before
walking out of the front door. Derek smiles when he sees Stiles slip the
garment on his slight frame. "Want to take the Camaro?" he asks, twirling the
keys around his index finger and laughing when Stiles hops up and down
excitedly.
                                     * * *
Erica sighs dramatically from where she's perched at the foot of Lydia's large
bed. The pair had left Stiles' house earlier and headed straight to the
redhead's, thankful that Lydia's parents were both busy running errands so she
wouldn't have to explain why their daughter was so upset. Boyd had left soon
after they'd arrived, saying that he was needed back home and that he'd call to
check in later. The scent of despair is thick in the air and Erica doesn't know
what to do to try and make Lydia feel better. The girl in question is curled up
on her side, finally worn out from crying into one of her pillows. Thick, black
lines of smudged mascara run down the banshee's cheeks as she sniffles
pathetically.
Erica thinks of how she would be faring if it were Boyd that had gone missing
instead of Jackson and feels a renewed wave of sympathy flood her system.
Patting Lydia's ankle gently, she gets up from the bed and goes into the
redhead's en suite bathroom, dampening a washcloth under in the sink before
bringing it back into the other room. "Come on," she coaxes, gently taking
Lydia's arm and dragging her up so that she's sitting instead of lying down.
Patting the cloth across the other girl's cheeks, Erica cleans off her ruined
makeup before tossing the cloth in the direction of the bathroom. It lands with
a wet slap just inside the door. "Do you feel any better?" she asks lamely,
wishing Allison was there. She knows that the huntress would be better suited
to comfort their friend than she is. Even Kira would be an improvement.
Lydia just shakes her head. "I keep going back and forth between pissed off
that Jackson would be stupid enough to go off alone like that and terrified
that I'll never see the idiot again." Her voice is nothing more that a whisper.
Erica knows that, if she didn't have the heightened hearing of a werewolf, she
wouldn't have been able to make out the words. Before she can say anything
back, her phone goes off, the ringtone obnoxiously loud where it sounds from
the depths of her bag across the room. Rushing to answer it, she sees Isaac's
face flashing up on the screen before she hits 'accept'. "'Sup, Isaac?" she
greets, noticing Lydia watching her attentively.
"We found out who the thing that's after us is. Do you want to come over to
Danny's? It'll be easier to tell everyone at once," Isaac requests, and Erica
can hear both excitement and worry warring in his tone. "Plus, I have some
other, more exciting news regarding our alpha and a certain ADHD-riddled human
that I think will cheer Lydia up."
Isaac's words cause Erica to perk up substantially, and she glances over at
Lydia hopefully. "Sure thing, dude. We'll be there soon. I'm sure Lydia will
want to fix her makeup before we leave." Hanging up before Isaac can reply, she
tosses her phone back into her bag and slings it over her shoulder before
marching over to where Lydia is still sat morosely on her bed. The redhead
stares at her darkly when she approaches. "Come on, Lyds, the puppy says he's
got some major news to share with us, both on the Jackson front and on
something to do with Derek and Stiles," she tempts, smiling when her ploy
works.
Lydia surges into action, immediately heading over to her dresser and pulling
out her makeup bag. She sees Erica shuffling around her room in her mirror's
reflection while she reapplies her eyeliner and mascara. When her face is fixed
to the best of her ability—she bemoans the fact that she can do nothing for her
bloodshot eyes—she indicates to Erica that she's ready to go and heads
downstairs and out of the front door to her car, heels clicking on the hardwood
and stone floors. Buckling themselves in, she hands her purse off to Erica, who
earns herself a glare when she throws it carelessly into the backseat to join
her own.
"What?" Erica asks, blinking her eyes innocently. She laughs when Lydia doesn't
answer and just shakes her head in exasperation.
"Did Isaac say anything else other than to come over?" Lydia asks when they
near Danny's house. She pulls up on the curb outside, since the driveway is
already filled with the various other vehicles the pack drives.
"Not really," Erica states simply, grabbing both bags from the backseat and
exiting the car. She hands off Lydia's purse to the redhead before heading
straight through Danny's front door without bothering to knock. "What's up,
bitches?!" she exclaims by way of greeting, immediately plopping down heavily
in one of the available spaces on the sofa, next to Kira.
Lydia shakes her head again at her companion's behaviour before taking a seat
beside Danny somewhat more demurely, shooting a meaningful look at the blonde
as if to say, 'That's how it's done'. She gets an eye roll in response.
"It took you long enough to get here!" Isaac complains. "We've been sat here
for almost half an hour now." The others all nod their heads in agreement.
Erica scoffs. "Blame that one over there," she announces, pointing in Lydia's
direction. "She's the one who took forever to get her face on again because she
can't stand to be seen without it being just perfect," she lilts, grinning.
"It doesn't matter why it took so long; you're here now. I thought that Boyd
and Cora were with you, though?" Scott asks, cutting the conversation short
before it gets out of hand. Past experience has taught him to be cautious when
Isaac and Erica start teasing each other as it more often than not leads to a
few punches being thrown.
The two girls look at each other in confusion.
"I know Boyd went back to his house after he got a call from his parents saying
they wanted him home ASAP," Lydia explains. "I don't know where Cora went; she
disappeared before we left the preserve. I just assumed she went with one of
you." She frowns when everyone else in the room shakes their heads.
"We thought she went with you," Danny explains. "You paired yourself with her
when you put us all in that buddy system. Weren't we supposed to stick to each
other's sides until this was all over?" He pulls out his phone to send a text
off to the youngest Hale when Lydia shrugs.
"Now that I think about it, yeah, we were supposed to stick together," Lydia
says. "I forgot about everything when Jackson went missing..." She trails off,
biting her lip guiltily at the thought that another pack member may have been
taken because of her carelessness.
"It'll be fine, Lydia," Danny assures, rubbing a hand across the girl's back.
"I'm sure she's OK and is just off doing something semi-illegal."
Lydia smiles at Danny gratefully.
"OK, since Boyd's most likely going to be out of commission until tomorrow,
let's get down to business. Isaac and I found Derek's mom's claws at this cabin
Peter has in the woods on the outskirts of town," Danny explains. "We found out
who this thing is." He tells everyone about what Derek and Isaac had seen when
they relived the former's memories. By the end of the tale, everyone in the
room is silent with shock, looks of horror on all of their faces. The corner of
Danny's mouth quirks upwards when he remembers having a similar reaction to
Isaac telling him everything earlier. "We still don't know what Landon wants
with Stiles, so our next course of action will be to try and find Peter to find
out why he took the claws." He turns to Scott. "Derek also wants you to go and
have a talk with Deaton to see if he's heard of anything happening elsewhere in
the past few years that could be traced back to Landon."
When the news and instructions have all sunk in, everyone prepares to leave,
only to be stopped by Erica speaking up. "Hold on a minute! I still want to
know what Isaac was talking about when he said something about Derek and Stiles
earlier, when he called us over here," she demands, narrowing her eyes at the
curly-haired beta as if daring him to disobey her.
The rest of the pack share looks of confusion between themselves but settle
back down nevertheless.
All eyes turn to Isaac, who swallows nervously when he sees everyone's grim
expressions. "Relax guys, this isn't bad news. In fact, I'd say it's pretty
damn good news," he promises, looking at Danny for backup. He smiles when
everyone's posture immediately relaxes as Danny nods his correspondence. "After
Derek and I got out of that trance or whatever where we saw his memories,
Stiles sent Danny and I upstairs. I think it was because Derek was finding it
difficult explaining everything with all of us watching him. So, we went up to
Stiles' bedroom and I told Danny everything while Derek told Stiles everything
downstairs. We were still talking when we heard Stiles ask Derek why he's been
so nice lately."
Lydia perks up at this information. "Wait a second... Is this going where I
think it's going?" she asks excitedly, sharing a smirk with Erica.
Scott and Kira look between the two girls, thoroughly nonplussed.
"If you think it's going toward Derek and Stiles finally admitting they love
each other, then you would be correct!" Danny declares enthusiastically, his
face split into a happy grin.
Everyone else in the room sits with their mouths wide in surprise for a few
seconds before breaking out into excited whoops and applause.
"Fucking finally!" Erica exclaims excitedly. She watches as everyone calms down
and retakes their seats, smiles still on their faces. The news is a breath of
fresh air after the worry and fear that has been following her around like a
dark cloud for the past few days. "It definitely took them long enough..."
"See, that's what I said!" Isaac comments animatedly, causing Danny to chuckle
from where he sits beside the curly-haired beta.
Lydia smooths her skirt out, having wrinkled it slightly by standing so
abruptly to return Erica's hug when the blonde had leapt at her, almost
knocking her to the ground. "So, how did it happen?" she asks curiously,
wanting to know every last detail so she can rub all of them in Stiles and
Derek's faces later and embarrass the hell out of them. Her concern for Jackson
has completely vanished from her mind in light of this new revelation.
Isaac puffs up his chest importantly as he recalls what he and Danny had
overheard an hour previous. "Well, like I said, Derek had just finished telling
Stiles everything about his uncles Landon and Jeremy. They were quiet for a
couple of minutes before Stiles asked what was happening between the two of
them. Derek got all clammed up again before he told Stiles everything, about
how annoying he found him at first and how his feelings had changed into
friendship when Stiles held him up in that pool for two hours to escape the
kanima. Then he said that his feelings had changed again after Stiles was
possessed." Erica and Kira both squeal with excitement at this.
"He told Stiles he loved him, and I think at this point Stiles was too shocked
to say anything because it was quiet for a moment," Isaac continues, pausing
for dramatic effect. "Derek thought his feelings weren't returned and tried to
leave, but Stiles stopped him and told him he loved him as well. Then they
kissed."
"And that's when Isaac interrupted them before I could hear anything good by
yelling down the stairs that it was about damn time they got together," Danny
teases, smirking when Isaac punches him in the arm.
"I can't believe it's finally happened..." Kira breathes, thinking that the
news almost seems to good to be true. "I'm so glad it did though. They deserve
to be happy."
Everyone nods in agreement at this. They all sit smiling like idiots still, not
knowing what else to say. Eventually, Danny breaks the silence and suggests
that they get going on their search for Peter. When everyone has left the
house, they split up again, with Scott heading over the veterinary clinic to
check in with Deaton, Kira sat at his back on his bike.
***** Manhunt *****
Derek and Stiles walk dispiritedly out of Peter's cabin. The building had been
the first place they'd thought of in their search for the perfidious beta. They
had arrived in the clearing and immediately barged through the front door,
Derek not wanting to give his uncle a chance to escape if he was actually
there. It quickly became apparent, however, that their hunch was wrong, the
pair finding nothing inside. The only thing gained from the excursion that
could prove to be useful was the fact that the rooms looked like they were
ransacked, various belongings scattered haphazardly across the floor. A quick
once-over revealed that several things were unaccounted for—the majority of the
clothes in the dresser in the bedroom being the main anomaly—indicating that
Peter had guessed of their impending arrival and gathered what little he could
before fleeing.
"I should've known he would have left already," Derek says irritably, cursing
himself for not realising it sooner. He peers desperately through the trees
that surround the building, almost as if just looking hard enough will cause
Peter to suddenly appear there. His eyes widen when his nose picks up on a
trail of his uncle’s scent—it's fairly recent, judging from its potency—and he
darts off after it before Stiles can get a word in.
Watching Derek rush off with a frown, Stiles wonders briefly whether the alpha
expects him to wait there next to the Camaro or to follow. He knows he would
never be able to keep up with the man, Derek’s werewolf speed allowing him to
cover ground at a much faster rate than Stiles himself could ever manage. Pair
that with his clumsiness and it would be a recipe for disaster. He has just
decided to stay where he is, leaning against the car's passenger door with his
hands tucked comfortably inside the pockets of the borrowed leather jacket he
still wears, when Derek comes stomping back into view, mumbling to himself.
"That was quick," he comments, curious; he had expected the wait to be much
longer. "What were you going after, anyway?"
Derek’s head snaps up at Stiles’ words, cutting short his unintelligible
grumbling. He shrugs as he walks over to the other side of the car. "I thought
I’d caught Peter’s scent, but it disappeared when I got back to the main road."
He nearly rips off the driver's-side door when he opens it, his anger at losing
track of his uncle almost getting the better of him. The thought of potentially
damaging Laura's old car allows him to reign his temper back in.
Stiles jumps back slightly when he sees the force with which Derek opens his
door. "It's not your fault, Der," he comforts, one look at the alpha's
expression easily telling him exactly what the man is thinking. "He must have
had a car or something that he used to make his getaway." When they are both
sat inside the Camaro again, he runs a hand through the short hairs at the back
of Derek's neck and turns the alpha's head so that their eyes meet. "We'll just
have to look elsewhere, OK? He couldn't have gone that far." Satisfied when
Derek seems to calm completely and gives him a thankful smile, he removes his
hand from the man's hair, taking instead one of the alpha's own from where it's
curled around the steering wheel and resting them on his thigh, fingers
interlocked. "I think our next stop should be your old house. It's small, but
there's still a chance he could've gone there."
Derek squeezes Stiles' hand and turns the keys in the ignition. He's not too
familiar with driving with just one hand, but he thinks he can make it work,
his reluctance to let go of the teen essentially making it his only option. He
pulls the car carefully back along the narrow, bumpy path that leads onto the
main road and wonders where Peter could've possibly gotten whatever vehicle he
used to escape. As far as he knows, his uncle doesn't own a car. It must be
stolen, he thinks, not putting it past Peter in the slightest. From what Stiles
says next, he knows his companion is thinking along the same lines.
"Now would be a great time to have my dad back..." Stiles says in frustration.
"I could ask him to look up if there have been any cars reported as stolen
lately." He taps his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. "I think I might
still be able to get the information we need, though, through Deputy Parrish. I
know my dad trusts him, and he seems like the helpful type."
Derek makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgement at this.
"If checking out the Hale house doesn't pan out, then we'll head over to the
station and see Parrish, alright?" Stiles instructs.
"Alright," Derek agrees succinctly, releasing Stiles' hand and gripping the
steering wheel instead, focusing on the road as he drives through the heart of
town and heads to the preserve on the other side. He sees Stiles peer curiously
at him out of the corner of his eye and does his best to keep his face neutral,
not wanting the teen to know about the bolt of jealousy that shot through his
body at the mention of the deputy. He knows he's being stupid; Stiles told him
he loved him not even two hours ago, and a smile threatens to form on his lips
at the memory, which he resists. He just can't help it. His wolf stirs
restlessly within him, wanting to lay its claim on Stiles so that everyone
knows the teen is his.
When Stiles feels his hand being released abruptly, he is surprised and a
little hurt. He glances over at Derek sat beside him and tries to see beneath
the blank expression he finds on the wolf's face. The whiteness of Derek's
knuckles around the wheel gives him a clue and—after thinking back to what he'd
been saying when Derek had let go—a thought crosses his mind. He decides to
test his little theory instead of just asking about it, the dire circumstances
that they currently find themselves in yet again forcing him to seek out any
sort of entertainment wherever he can find it. "You know, it might actually
turn out to be pretty cool to hang out with Parrish a bit more," he says
impishly, a smirk sliding into place when he sees Derek's eyebrows draw
together, a crack in his ordinarily reticent demeanour.
Knowing he's pushing his luck and not caring in the slightest, Stiles decides
to bait the alpha even more, relying on his garrulous nature to provide the
words for him. "He's always been super nice to me whenever I've brought my dad
lunch at the station. He's pretty cute, too. I've seen him in action, you know,
gun out and everything. Muscles flexing, looking all dangerous... It was pretty
hot." He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bursting out with
laughter.
Derek can't stop the growl that rises in his throat at the last part of Stiles'
rant and his eyes turn red in vexation. His hands tighten on the steering wheel
to the point where he wouldn't be surprised to see the indentations of his
fingers there were he to let go. By this point, they've crossed the better part
of the town and are now heading into the outskirts of the preserve on the other
side, near the Hale house. Pulling the car suddenly off of the road and onto
the shoulder, he turns to glare at the shaking body in the passenger seat.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he growls.
When Stiles sees how enraged Derek looks, his suspicions confirmed, the boy
loses his battle with his restrained laughter. He throws his head back as he
cackles evilly, his normally florid complexion intensifying with his deep
amusement at how easy it is to get Derek worked up. When he sees how thoroughly
unimpressed the alpha looks, he attempts to rein himself back in, gasping for
breath. "You were jealous!" he chokes out, wiping away with wobbly hands the
tears that have fallen from his mirth. After several long minutes, when his
breathing is finally back to normal, he looks back over at Derek and smiles
cheekily.
Derek looks back at the road in front of him when he sees how pleased with
himself Stiles appears to be, blinking his eyes to get them back to their
natural colour. The tips of his ears are pink at having been played so easily.
He pulls back onto the road to try and avoid the inevitable teasing he knows is
coming his way.
"Aww, don't worry, Der-bear. You know you're the only musclebound hunk for me,"
Stiles assures, patting the top of Derek's head condescendingly and getting a
very put-out grumble in return. He pulls Derek's hand back off of the steering
wheel and interlaces their fingers once more. "You may want to keep that
possessive streak on the back burner for now, but I think it could definitely
make for some interesting sexy-times later. Could use some experimentation, for
sure." He blushes when Derek's breath hitches and the alpha's hazel eyes snap
to meet his own briefly, mouth open in disbelief.
"Seriously?" Derek asks breathlessly, turning the car onto the side-road that
leads up to his childhood home. The once-even ground is now rough from disuse,
rendering the Camaro's usually smooth handling to be almost imperceptible as
its occupants are jostled around uncomfortably.
"Of course. 'S kind of hot when you get all growly and your eyes get all
flashy," Stiles states unabashedly. He watches as the ruins of the Hale house
come into view. "It's odd that we hadn't been here for months and then all of
sudden we're here two times in as many days..." he says distractedly. He gets
out of the car when Derek rolls it to a gentle stop a few feet away from the
house's front steps, resting his hands on the top of the door as he takes in
the surroundings. "Do you smell him?"
Derek shakes his head in denial, his dwindling hope that they'll manage to
track down Peter sooner rather than later taking another hit. "He hasn't been
here recently, at least." He makes to get back into the car but stops when he
notices that Stiles is still stood staring at the decrepit building. "Stiles?"
he asks, concerned.
Hearing his name being called, Stiles snaps out of his thoughts and smiles
sheepishly at Derek. "Sorry. I was just wondering about something, but I'm not
too sure on how you'll take it..." At Derek's raised eyebrow, he continues.
"Well, you know how you need another place to live since I wrecked the loft?"
Derek nods warily. He thinks he has an inkling about where the conversation is
going.
"Well...have you ever considered maybe rebuilding this place?" Stiles asks
hesitantly, waving a hand in the direction of the house. He winces when he
doesn't receive a response, fearing he has misspoken and overstepped his
boundaries. Peering at Derek out of the corner of his eye to gauge his
reaction, he is surprised when he sees the man looking longingly up the
structure in front of them. "Derek?"
"It's certainly an idea..." Derek whispers. He'd be lying if he said the
thought hasn't ever crossed his mind since he'd come back to Beacon Hills when
Laura stopped checking in, but every time it did he would dismiss it instantly,
the memories associated with the house still too painful and raw to even think
about following through. Now though...now that his pack is stronger and seems
to have finally found its feet, once everyone is back and safe again he thinks
maybe it'll be time.
Stiles watches Derek worriedly as he thinks. The alpha's stare is far away,
directed at something he cannot see. He walks around the hood of the car and
stands beside the man, slipping their hands together again.
"I actually think I might look into it once Landon and Peter are dealt with,"
Derek says finally. He knows money won't be an issue, the life insurance
policies his mother had taken out for every member of their family coupled with
the inheritance he got when he turned eighteen making it so he'll be able to
start the renovations immediately. He's once again thankful for his mother's
careful planning. "I'll have to get the property put back in my name though. I
think that, legally speaking at least, this place still belongs to the town."
"I'm sure my dad would be happy enough to help expedite the process along as
much as he can," Stiles states confidently, winking when their eyes meet. "If
not, then I can probably bribe him with promises of bacon." Even though he was
vehemently against it at first, he is incredibly grateful that his dad is now
privy to the existence of the supernatural, that knowledge allowing his
negative opinions about Derek and some of the other members of the pack to
morph into more positive ones. It'll certainly make telling his dad about his
and Derek's new relationship a whole lot easier.
Derek barks out a laugh at Stiles' unexpected joke, the sudden change in their
conversation's mood surprising him.
"You should laugh more," Stiles says, awestruck at the expression of
unrestrained happiness that lights up Derek's face, making the man look
absolutely beautiful.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Derek responds, his chuckling tapering off
into a contented smile.
They stand there in companionable silence for another minute before Stiles
suggests they follow up on his previous suggestion about going to the sheriff's
station in search of any reports of stolen cars. Their hands are still
connected over the centre console as they drive away from the Hale house,
Stiles finding himself unable to stop touching Derek in whatever way he can. He
thinks giddily that Derek seems to feel the same. As the car gets further into
the main part of town, he starts to get worried, the thought that they'll most
likely end up having to tell somebody that his dad is missing floating around
and around in his head.
"Everything OK?" Derek asks, noticing the scent of anxiety that has begun
filling the car.
Stiles bites his lip nervously. "Yeah... I just thought of something, though.
Today was my dad's day off, but he's supposed to have another shift at the
station tomorrow," he explains, stopping his nibbling when he tastes blood.
Derek's hand tightens in his, the man no doubt able to smell the copper.
"People are going to notice he's missing and they're going to start asking a
lot questions, especially when they realise that Allison and Jackson are
missing as well. I don't really know what we're supposed to tell them..."
"Maybe we can just tell everyone that they're sick?" Derek suggests, unsure of
whether the excuse will be an easily accepted one. "Hopefully, they'll be back
again by the time people start questioning it. Scott can probably get Melissa
to back us up if we need it." He knows Scott's mother has certainly been a
major asset from time to time, her connections at the hospital and her training
as a nurse allowing her to provide medical assistance for the human members of
the pack whenever they've gotten hurt, whether from a mishap in training or at
the hands of an enemy. She has also stepped in every now and then to tend to
the betas if Deaton isn't around to do so himself.
"I guess we can make that work... Good thinking," Stiles compliments, staring
at the sheriff's station as Derek pulls the car smoothly into one of the empty
spaces in the lot outside. "Why don't you wait out here? Even though you were
eventually found innocent, I think some of the deputies still aren't that keen
on you after Scott and I got you arrested for murder."
"Yeah, thanks again for that, by the way," Derek snipes, narrowing his eyes at
Stiles facetiously. "I still can't go to the grocery store without everyone
staring at me like I'm going to snap and kill them all at any moment." His
playful tone doesn't quite mask completely the element of hurt he still feels
at being made a pariah in his hometown.
Stiles harrumphs indignantly. "Maybe if you didn't dress like a serial killer!"
He flaps the too-long sleeves of the leather jacket he's wearing in Derek's
face to prove his point. He swallows nervously when he sees how affronted the
alpha looks. "You're not going to smash my head into the steering wheel again,
are you?" He winces at the memory, still thinking it was unfair, no matter how
annoying he may have been acting.
Derek rolls his eyes, smirking. "No, you don't have to worry about me doing
anything like that to you again," he promises earnestly. "Within reason, of
course." He points an accusatory finger at Stiles, so close to his nose that
the teen has to cross his eyes to look at the digit. The goofy sight makes him
burst out with laughter again and he flicks the end of Stiles' nose just for
the hell of it.
"Whatever, Mr. Grumpy. Just wait here, OK?" Stiles grumbles, shoving his door
open and stepping out of the car. He makes to enter the front of the station,
but when he catches his reflection in the glass he sees that he's still wearing
Derek's jacket. Shrugging the garment off of his shoulders, he folds it up
carefully and puts it back on the Camaro's passenger seat, ignoring the amused
smirk that Derek wears on his face as he watches. "Shut up," he orders,
slamming the door shut again and finally heading into the large building.
Stepping out of the cold and into the warmth of the station, he makes his way
over to the reception desk. He stands awkwardly as he waits for the attention
of the unfamiliar woman currently working there. A quick glance down at the tag
on her chest reveals her name to be Ava.
The woman's greasy, dirty-blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail,
highlighting the way her ears stick out at the sides of her head. Her eyebrows
are unkempt—Stiles thinks with a smile that Lydia would most likely have an
aneurysm if she saw the state of them—and her cheeks are rosy from wearing far
too much makeup. The fitted, white shirt she wears is unbuttoned to an almost
inappropriate level, allowing her red bra to peek out of the top, and a coffee
stain is clearly visible just above the pocket on the left side of her chest.
Ava holds up a finger when she sees him, all the while chattering away into the
phone propped between her hunched shoulder and ear.
From what little Stiles can hear of the one-sided conversation, whatever she's
talking about isn't something related to her job. Her unwelcoming presence
makes him miss the friendly demeanour of Deputy Tara Graeme, and he feels a
sharp pang deep in his chest as the memory of happening across the woman's body
with Scott and Lydia after she was murdered in one of Jennifer Blake's
sacrifices springs up in his mind. Looking around the station now, the whole
place feels so different when he compares it to the many afternoons he spent
there as a child, when Tara would help him with his math homework if he came
across an equation he couldn't solve on his own. He remembers now why he's only
visited his dad's place of work a couple of times in recent months, and he's
vindictively thankful once again that Jennifer found her own sticky end.
"OK, now...what can I help you with, sir?"
Stiles snaps back into the present at Ava's question. When he doesn't respond
immediately, her face loses its falsely friendly expression and he smiles in
embarrassment when she starts to look truly pissed off. "Uh, y-yes," he
stutters, his discomfort increasing even more when he feels his face heat up.
"I was wondering if Deputy Parrish was in today?" Ava sighs heavily at this,
and he gets the impression that she feels as though dealing with the pointless
questions of some annoying teenager is a complete waste of her time. He's
willing to bet money that her attitude would be drastically different if she
knew that his dad is the sheriff.
"One second..." Ava drawls tiredly, picking her phone up again and pressing
several buttons on the keypad before looking back up at Stiles, one bushy
eyebrow raised. "Who should I say is asking?"
"Just Stiles, is fine. He knows who I am," Stiles says, withering even more
when Ava's eyes narrow suspiciously—she no doubt thinks the name is a fake one,
and in retrospect it kind of is. He taps his foot and plays unconsciously with
the long sleeves of his red flannel shirt as he waits, listening intently to
the very brief conversation the woman has over the phone.
Putting the receiver back down with slightly more force than is necessary, Ava
smiles at Stiles unkindly. "He'll be out in a few minutes," she says
patronisingly, going back to whatever 'work' she had been doing before he came
in. "Why don't you take a seat over there while you wait?" She waves a hand
distractedly at the two rickety chairs that sit against the wall on the left
side of the room, beneath a bulletin board.
A quick perusal of the multitude of flyers and pamphlets that are pinned to the
board reveals nothing of import, so Stiles sits awkwardly in the seat closest
to the entrance to the building. From this angle, he can see the Camaro out in
the parking lot and can just make out Derek sat within it, tapping the steering
wheel with both hands and bobbing his head along to whatever song is on the
radio. The sight is so unexpected and such a contrast to the alpha's normally
stoic nature that he lets a giggle escape. He clamps a hand over his mouth to
prevent any further outbursts when the sound gets him another reproving glare
from Ava. He's so lost in watching Derek that he doesn't notice when Parrish
comes out to greet him.
"Stiles?" Parrish asks with surprise, walking through the door that leads back
into the main part of the station. "What are you doing here? You know it's your
dad's day off, right?"
Stiles starts and whips his head around when his name is called, almost falling
off of his chair in the process. He looks up to see Parrish standing there with
a hand on his hip and bright smile on his face. The man looks to be holding
back laughter. "Oh, yeah, of course. He’s actually at home, very sick, so he
might not be in for the next few days. But that's not really why I'm here," he
explains, standing and trailing along after the deputy when the man heads back
through the door and indicates that he should follow.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Parrish says as he leads the way over to his desk.
As they walk, Stiles observes that there aren't too many officers in the
station, their ranks still not back up to the level they were at before Jackson
had slaughtered a bunch of them under Matt Daehler's control and he himself had
blown up the station while under the Nogitsune's influence. He takes the empty
seat that Parrish pulls to rest in front of his desk, the man soon taking his
own and sipping from the steaming mug of coffee he had just made before he was
called out by Ava.
"So...why are you here?" Parrish asks curiously. "It's a rare sight these days,
it seems." He can't even remember the last time he saw Stiles at the station.
He remembers when he first got his job there, young and fresh out of the
academy. When Sheriff Stilinski seemed to take a particular interest in helping
him 'reach his fullest potential'—the sheriff's words, not his—Stiles had never
been too far behind, usually laden down with several bags of healthy food,
which he would force his dad to eat every bite of. The teen would sit there and
glare until it was all gone, all the while stuffing curly fries into his own
mouth.
Stiles shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Well, I was wondering if I could maybe
ask you a favour?" he enquires slowly, not sure about what response his next
question will get but really hoping it's a positive one all the same. He
continues at Parrish's nod, flailing his hands. "This is going to sound weird,
but just go with me here... I was wondering whether you could tell me if there
have been any cars reported as missing recently?" When he sees both of
Parrish's eyebrows raise high on his forehead, he hastens to finish his
reasoning. "See, my friend's uncle is kind of an ass and my friend and I went
to see him earlier today, but his stuff was gone and there were fresh tyre
tracks in the dirt outside, only he doesn't own a car."
Parrish listens to Stiles' hurried explanation impassively, hiding his
amusement and confusion as he watches the teen gesticulate animatedly.
"Anyway, remember when I said this uncle was an ass?" Stiles continues, and
Parrish nods again. "Well, he doesn't own a car, and it wouldn't be entirely
out of the realm of possibility that he would've stolen the one he used to
leave. He owes my friend a significant amount of money," the lie flows easily
off of his tongue, "and it's pretty important that he gets it back as soon as
possible. So, uh, any chance you can help me out?"
Parrish leans against the back of his chair and crosses his arms. "Hmm, that is
a tricky one," he says, leaning forward again and booting up the old computer
that rests on the right side of his desk. "I suppose I'll help you, provided
you don't tell your dad; he's warned all the officers here many times not to
help you with anything unless we want to get shot." He whispers the last part,
winking and smiling when Stiles scoffs and rolls his eyes in exasperation.
Things go quiet while Parrish types away on his keyboard, focusing intently on
the information that starts appearing across the screen.
"Let's see..." Parrish mutters, running a finger down the list of recent crime
reports he has brought up from the station's database. "I don't think this is
quite what you're looking for. The last time any vehicle was reported as
missing or stolen was over four months ago and the case was solved nearly right
after the report was filed. So, unless your friend's uncle has been planning
his little getaway for that long, I'd say you're out of luck." He closes the
window with a click of his mouse and takes another sip of his coffee.
Stiles sighs in disappointment, lamenting the fact that nothing seems to run
smoothly in Beacon Hills anymore. He curses Peter once again for introducing
him to the world of the supernatural before remembering that he wouldn't have a
lot of the people in his life he now treasures if Scott hadn't been bitten that
memorable night. He would also most likely still be trailing longingly after
Lydia like a lost puppy instead of being blissfully in love with Derek.
"Alright, thanks for checking anyway," he says, quickly swapping his dejected
expression for a falsely happy one when he notices Parrish giving him a strange
look.
"Is that all you wanted?" Parrish asks, not at all fooled by Stiles' fake cheer
but choosing not to comment on it.
Stiles nods and stands, uncomfortably taking and shaking Parrish's hand when
the man offers it. He bids goodbye to his dad's favourite deputy and heads back
out of the station. Waving a hand at Ava as he leaves—the irritated expression
the action gets him helping to cheer him up a little—he pushes open the door
and steps back into the cold of the early evening, immediately shivering at the
abrupt change in temperature. Looking over at the Camaro, he finds that Derek
obviously hasn't realised he's finished yet. The alpha is still engrossed in
his music, and his eyebrows go up near his hairline when he notices that Derek
appears to now be singing along. He nearly doubles over laughing.
Walking over to the passenger side of the Camaro, Stiles opens the door sharply
and leans down to see Derek's reaction at having been caught in such an
embarrassing predicament. Sure enough, Derek is looking back at him like a deer
caught in headlights, his eyes wide and his cheeks and ears becoming
increasingly redder. He watches keenly as the flustered man hastily turns off
the radio—he pays attention long enough to recognise that a Taylor Swift song
was playing, making the whole situation even funnier—and turns to stare
stolidly through the windshield. He picks Derek's leather jacket back up before
sliding inside the car and shutting the door on the cold, folding the garment
in his lap and resting his hands atop it.
"You having fun there?" Stiles asks jovially, not bothering to hide the smirk
that grows on his face when Derek's eyes meet his briefly before flicking away
again, embarrassed. "You're adorable." He chuckles and fiddles with the collar
of Derek's jacket, the odd shiver the cold air outside had caused still
wracking through his frame. He contemplates putting it back on again, but the
heat of the car's interior seems to be doing a decent job of warming up his
shaking body, so he decides against it.
Derek coughs awkwardly at the compliment, his hands resting on the steering
wheel. "So, was Parrish able to tell you anything?" he asks, more than ready to
move the conversation along to a subject that doesn't make him feel like he's
under a spotlight.
"Nothing that we can use to track Peter down, unfortunately," Stiles sighs,
watching with interest the way the muscles in Derek's arms flex when the older
man tightens his grip on the wheel. He turns away before he can become fully
distracted. "Apparently, there hasn't been a stolen car reported in months,
so...this was pointless. Sorry." He feels terrible for leading them both on
another fruitless venture.
Derek glances over at his companion when he picks up on the tiny hint of self-
loathing that sneaks its way into Stiles' tone. "It's fine, love. We'll just
have to figure out another way of finding Peter. It's not the end of the
world." He smiles reassuringly and pats the teen on the leg, leaving his hand
to rest there.
"I hope the others are having more luck wherever they're looking," Stiles
mutters. He studies the hand gripping his thigh intently before the first part
of what Derek said registers fully in his mind. "Did...did you just call me
'love'?" he asks, his heart stuttering in his chest.
"Uh, I guess I did..." Derek says, trying to project an air of nonchalance and
failing terribly. He attempts to change the subject again. "Why don't you text
the others and find out where they are so we can join them?" He withdraws his
hand from Stiles' leg and turns the keys in the ignition, bringing the Camaro
to life and backing out of the parking space.
Stiles can't wipe the smile off of his face as he slides his phone out of his
jeans pocket and does as Derek suggested. A few seconds pass before he gets a
response, first from Danny and then from everyone else but Scott and Kira. He
doesn't like what he reads. "They're all still in the preserve, looking for any
trace of Peter. Apparently they're not having much success." Shooting off
another text to everyone telling them that they should meet up at the
veterinary clinic, he thinks that Scott probably hasn't responded because he's
still there talking with Deaton. "I've told everyone to call it a day and meet
us at Deaton's."
Derek nods his understanding and starts driving in that direction, thankful
that his plan to distract Stiles from his slip-up seems to have worked. He
quickly finds that he's wrong, however.
"So...if you're going to be calling me 'love' from now on," Stiles starts, his
amusement growing again when he hears Derek exhale sharply in frustration
beside him, "does that mean I get to give you a pet name as well? What should
it be? Honey bear? Snookums? Sweet cheeks?" The suggestions all earn him an
irritated glare.
"Remind me why I love you again? Because for the life of me I can't seem to
remember right now," Derek teases, shaking his head. He curses as a reckless
driver cuts him off when he tries to turn onto the fastest road to the clinic.
Stiles cackles evilly again. "Because I'm awesome, that's why," he gasps out,
wiping tears from his eyes. "You're too easy, Der. I think I'll just stick to
Sourwolf for now, though, so don't worry."
"Fine..." Derek sighs, secretly pleased with the name but vowing never to admit
that to Stiles. They both fall into comfortable silence as they near the clinic
and, when they pull into the parking lot behind the building and see the
absence of other cars, they find that they are the first ones to arrive. The
only other vehicle in the area is Scott's bike, propped conspicuously up
against the wall near the back entrance. They both open their doors and get out
at the same time.
Stiles brings Derek's leather jacket with him, slipping it back on and sighing
gratefully when it both protects him from the cold and smothers him in Derek's
amazing scent. He follows the alpha into the building, the man not bothering to
announce his presence as he steps through the back door and into one of the
examination rooms. He obviously follows his ears because they immediately find
Scott, Kira and Deaton engaged in deep conversation around the metal table in
the middle of the room. All three of them are bent over, focused deeply on
something that Stiles can't see. The trio look up when they hear the newcomers'
footsteps.
"Hey, what are you two doing here?" Scott asks, confused. "Aren't you supposed
to be out looking for Peter with everyone else?" He turns away from the table,
still blocking both Derek and Stiles from seeing what rests upon its surface.
Stiles rolls his eyes. "You'd know why we're here if you checked your phone
once in a while..." he says disparagingly, watching as Scott hastily fumbles
the aforementioned device out of his pocket and stares at the screen, the
beta's cheeks flushing in embarrassment when, sure enough, he finds Stiles'
text is the first thing that pops up.
"Um, oops?" Scott says lamely, scratching the back of his head as he reads the
message. "So, you're the first ones here?" He passes his phone over to Kira in
lieu of an explanation when he sees her bewildered expression. A small smile
forms on his lips when he notices that Stiles is still wearing Derek's leather
jacket, leaving the alpha standing behind his friend in nothing but a pair of
simple jeans and a navy blue Henley that looks at least one size too small. He
can just about see the faint outline of his triskelion necklace resting beneath
the thin fabric.
"Obviously," Stiles says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of Derek's jacket.
"What were you all looking at before we got here?" he asks curiously, stepping
up the table and peering around Kira to try and sneak a peek. He is slightly
disappointed when instead of anything particularly exciting, he just sees
several books laying open on the sleek surface. He figures out from a quick
once-over that they appear to range in age and all are handwritten.
Deaton flips through the pages of the book closest to himself. "We've been
looking into some journals I have that other emissaries have written. We're
trying to see if anything sticks out that could be about our new assailant." He
comes to a stop on a page containing text that looks to be hastily written.
It's so small and cramped together that Stiles can barely see the paper
underneath the ink. "I think we managed to find several possibilities." He
turns the book around so the new arrivals can read the entry.
Stiles has to bend down over the book in order to make out the words that
Deaton points out to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek do the
same. Before he can get very far, though, he notices Derek and Scott perk up
and glances up to see them looking intently at the door. His guess that the
rest of the pack must have just arrived is confirmed when they all come
storming into the building, each one of them looking intensely annoyed that
their search turned up no results. He is about to ask them about the absence of
both Cora and Boyd, but Isaac speaks up before he can enquire about their
whereabouts.
"What's all this?" Isaac asks, his forlorn expression morphing into one of
curiosity and his head tilting to the side slightly as he takes in the other
group standing around the table.
"These are all the journals of emissaries from across the country," Deaton
explains. "This one is from the emissary of a pack that used to live in Monroe,
Michigan." Deaton taps a finger on the book Stiles and Derek had been
attempting to read. "It tells of a mysterious figure shrouded in black that
began decimating everyone who was in any way associated with them. This is the
last entry before the writer went missing as well. As far as I know, no one has
heard from that pack since. The rest of these are about similar cases. They
were all attacked by the same figure and all of the entries end the same way."
His words are ominous and he pauses for a second to let the gravity of them
sink in fully. "As far as I can tell, no one saw the onslaughts coming and
before they could try and figure out how to stop their attacker, it was already
too late."
Derek scans over the books a final time before looking up at Deaton. "So how
does this help us?" he asks impatiently. He really hates any time he is forced
to rely on the vet for help as the older man is usually far too cryptic for his
liking. He thinks that Deaton always withholds useful information unnecessarily
when it could be utilised much sooner.
"These don't really help much right now apart from telling us what your uncle
Landon has been up to these last few years," Deaton admits, waving a hand in
the direction of the examination table as he turns away and retrieves something
from the cabinets against the back wall. He carries yet another book with him
when he turns back around. "This one, however, does provide some useful
information that I think could turn out to be imperative to his defeat."
Dropping the book down on the table atop the others, he flips it open to a
bookmarked entry in the middle. A small piece of paper is stuffed in between
the pages, on which is written an address. "I've had time to carry out some
more research since Scott told me about what was happening yesterday evening."
"Wait, you told him? When did you find the time for that?" Stiles asks Scott
curiously, knowing that his friend was supposed to have been busy the entirety
of the previous day searching for Allison.
Scott looks guiltily between Derek and Stiles. The former's eyebrows are
scrunched up in disapproval at his having brought someone else into this
without his knowledge. "I thought Deaton might be able to help again like he
has before, so...before I went home yesterday, I stopped by here so I could
catch him at the end of his shift and tell him everything," he says, looking
away when Derek's eyes narrow further.
Stiles notices Derek's irritation and bumps their shoulders together to try and
snap him out of it. When the slight tension in the room dissipates again, he
turns back to Deaton. "You were saying?" he says, eyebrows raised.
"Yes, well..." Deaton coughs awkwardly before he scans the text in front of him
quickly. "This particular case is from Oak Grove, Oregon, and it's the most
recent, taking place just a few months ago. The same things happened there that
happened to the other packs, only this time there was one survivor: an old
friend of mine and the pack's emissary, Holly Thomas. Her journal was sent to
me afterward when she was no longer capable of carrying on her duties."
"Do I want to know why she couldn't 'carry on her duties' anymore?" Stiles asks
carefully, feeling the subject is a sensitive one that clearly doesn't have a
very happy outcome.
Deaton shakes his head. "Probably not, but I think you should be told anyway. I
still don't know all the details about what happened to her—this journal isn't
very thorough—but I do know that whatever Landon did to her left her severely
disabled." He nods gravely when he sees everyone wince in sympathy. "She can no
longer access her magic and has great difficulty moving around. Her sister,
Maria, is now her permanent caregiver."
"Are you getting to the part where this is supposed to help us stop Landon
or...?" Derek demands, his patience about to run out.
Rolling his eyes, Deaton pulls out the slip of paper wedged between the pages
of Holly's old journal. "This is their address. I was able to get in touch with
Maria shortly before Scott and Kira arrived and set up a meeting for you to get
all of the details from Holly about what happened. From what Maria said, it
sounds like her sister will at least be able to tell you why your uncle Landon
has such an interest in Stiles here."
Derek snatches the paper from Deaton's hands when the vet offers it, inspecting
the neat writing scrawled on its surface. "So we're just supposed to go here
tomorrow?" he asks suspiciously, unable to believe that the solution to their
problems could possibly be so simple.
"Yes. They're expecting you at around six in the evening," Deaton instructs
before making a start at putting back all of the journals still laid out on the
examination table. Once he is finished, he closes the cabinet doors again and
locks them with one of the many keys he has around the large ring he keeps in
his pocket. "Anyway, if that's all, it's been a very long day and I'd really
appreciate a nice long bubble bath." With that, he ushers the group outside
into the parking lot and closes up before driving off.
"So, I guess we're done for the day then?" Erica asks, ready to get home and
hop in the shower. She can't wait to scrub off all of the dirt she got on her
skin when she was traipsing through the preserve earlier.
Derek nods absently, still examining the paper in his hands. After committing
the address to memory, he shoves it in the pocket of his jeans and looks up to
find everyone staring at him expectantly. Glancing at his phone to check the
time, he is startled at how late it is. "Right, why don't you all head on home.
I don't think we're going to be able to find Allison, Jackson or Stiles' dad on
our own without taking down Landon first, so I want all of you to go to school
as normal tomorrow morning." He points a finger at Erica in particular, getting
a glare in response, before heading over to his car.
Stiles is about to follow when he is roped into an unexpected hug by Lydia.
"I'm really happy for you both," she whispers earnestly in his ear, giving him
one last squeeze before hurrying after Erica and getting in her car. He blinks
owlishly at the retreating vehicle before ambling after Derek and sliding into
the passenger seat of the Camaro. "So, back to my place, eh?" he asks, his
voice wavering slightly. His nerves at spending his first night alone with
Derek start to make themselves known. He looks out of the window at the
horizon, admiring the red sky as the sun continues its descent.
Derek hums his assent. The sound is the last one made during the drive, the two
young men sitting in comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey. When
he pulls into the driveway of the Stilinski household, he shuts off the engine
and gets out, following Stiles into the house. They head straight through to
the kitchen after Stiles locks the front door, flipping on the lights as they
go.
"Alright, what do we have to eat?" Stiles asks himself, ferreting through the
cupboards and fridge in search of something that looks appetising. Deciding
that he has neither the energy nor the patience to cook anything complicated,
he pulls out some pasta and a jar of store-bought bolognese sauce. He holds up
his findings to Derek for his approval before dumping the items into two
separate saucepans and turning on the stove. He adds water to the pasta and
lets it simmer while getting out a couple of plates and forks and setting them
on the kitchen island at which Derek is sat. He sits beside the alpha while
they wait for the food to cook. Just as he is about to start serving their late
dinner, the lights begin to flicker before going out entirely. "Oh, this is so
not what I need right now..." he sighs, putting the saucepans back down on the
stove and getting out the flashlight he keeps in one of the drawers below the
counter.
The sudden dark sets Stiles on edge and he can't help but wonder if the
blackout has anything to do with Landon. Using the flashlight to guide himself,
he descends the steps into the basement, intent on checking the fuse box. He is
comforted by the fact that he can hear Derek following closely behind. Making
his way across the floor to the opposite wall—tripping on the old junk stored
in the room the whole time and making Derek snigger behind him—he finally
reaches his goal and flips open the small, metal door, pointing the light
inside.
"So is it a problem with the fuses?" Derek asks suddenly as he leans forward to
look over Stiles' shoulder. His close proximity makes the teen jump, and he
takes a step back when Stiles glares at him.
"I hope so," Stiles mutters, turning back to the fuse box and starting to flip
all of the switches to see if any of them will fix their current problem. When
he gets to the last one and the house lights remain turned off, he sighs and
slumps forward in defeat. "I guess not..." He slams the fuse box shut again and
follows Derek back up into the kitchen before voicing his previous worries. "Do
you think Landon has anything to do with this?" He bites his lip nervously and
lays the flashlight down on the counter, facing outward so that the room is at
least lit up a little bit.
Derek shakes his head as he retakes his seat on one of the stools around the
kitchen island. His stomach growls when he gets another whiff of the cooling
food still on the stove. "I don't think so. I don't sense or smell anything,"
he assures, pleased when his words cause Stiles' hunched shoulders to relax
again. He looks through the doorway into the living room and sees that the
curtains are still open, revealing the rest of the street to be in the same
state. "None of the other houses have any lights on either, so I guess it's
just an ordinary power outage."
"OK, that's definitely a good thing...that it's not caused by Landon, I mean,
not that the power's not working," Stiles babbles, looking away in
embarrassment when Derek stares at him, amusement clear on his face. "Shut
up..." He bends down to look through the cupboards beneath the countertop. It
takes him a while to find what he's looking for, but eventually he stands back
up with several candles clutched in his hands. He kicks the cupboard door
closed again with his foot before dumping the candles onto the island next to
the plates. "Now then, matches..."
Derek watches as Stiles looks through the drawers for something to light the
wicks with, his interest growing when the teen bends over, putting his ass on
display. He thanks his werewolf eyesight for allowing him to still have a clear
view even in the low light provided by the flashlight.
Stiles slams the last drawer shut with a frustrated sigh, his search failing to
turn up the matchbox he was sure he remembers seeing in one of them the other
day. He ponders how he is supposed to light the candles when a thought hits
him, and he looks down at his hands curiously. "I wonder if this'll work," he
says to himself, picking up one of the candles and holding it above the sink as
a precaution. Focusing, he tries to remember what he thought of the previous
day to get his powers to work in the catacombs beneath the Hale House. A smile
appears on his face when the hand not holding the candle begins to glow—he'll
have to thank Lydia at some point for figuring out his trigger for him—his mind
focused on how distraught he would be if anything bad were to happen to Derek.
Unsurprisingly, the alpha is his anchor.
"Uh, Stiles? What are you doing?" Derek asks worriedly, getting up from his
stool and walking slowly over to the teen so they end up stood next to each
other.
"I'm lighting the candles," Stiles states simply, his eyes never leaving the
wax pillar in his left hand. Concentrating even harder, his eyes nothing more
than slits, he forces all of the energy he feels radiating from the palm of his
right hand to travel up into his index finder. The top of the digit shines
brighter and, satisfied, Stiles brings it to the tip of the candle wick,
holding it there and allowing a tiny bit of energy to escape. Yelling in
triumph when the wick bursts into flame, he grins over at Derek and sees the
alpha's eyebrows are raised in surprise.
Derek takes the candle from Stiles and marvels at the tiny flame. "I've got to
say, I'm impressed," he compliments, earning an even bigger grin from the teen.
He puts the candle back on the island and gives Stiles the next one when he
holds out his hand. Soon enough, all of them are lit and the room is bathed in
their warm glow, creating a very comforting atmosphere that Derek wouldn't
hesitate to call romantic.
Stiles turns off the flashlight and sticks his finger in the saucepans,
checking to see whether the food has gone completely cold yet. He is relieved
when he finds everything is still warm enough and finally dishes it all out
onto the two plates he got out earlier. After filling the saucepans with water
and leaving them to soak in the sink, he takes his seat beside Derek and picks
up his fork. "Alright, let's dig in!" he exclaims before shovelling the food
into his mouth messily.
Twirling his fork in the spaghetti to form a respectable mouthful, Derek eats
his food somewhat more sedately. He watches Stiles the whole time and is both
amused and pleased that the teen's appetite once again rivals his betas'. He is
slightly dismayed when Stiles' exuberance causes a drop of sauce to land on his
jacket, but is quickly appeased when a quick wipe of a thumb erases all
evidence of the mess. Surprisingly, they both finish at the same time, and he
insists that Stiles remain seated while he does the washing up. Soon enough,
the dishes are left to dry, stacked in the wire rack beside the sink, the last
plate going in just as the clock in the living room begins striking. He listens
and is shocked when he counts eleven strikes. He didn't think it was that late,
though now that he thinks about it, he should have known based on how weary his
body feels. "Are you tired enough to sleep?" he asks Stiles, drying his hands
with a dishtowel. He hangs it over the handle on the oven door when he's
finished.
"Yeah, I guess so," Stiles says, getting up and blowing out all of the candles.
He grabs the flashlight again on his way out of the room so he can see where
he's going. He's halfway up the stairs when he realises he can't hear Derek
following behind and he looks back over his shoulder to find out why. He gets
his answer when he sees the alpha closing the curtains in the living room so
that no one can see inside anymore. "Good thinking." He smiles when Derek joins
him on the stairs and they both head into his bedroom. After collecting an old,
comfortable shirt from his dresser, he takes the first turn in the bathroom,
relieving himself and brushing his teeth. He strips off his jeans and tosses
them in the laundry hamper. Folding Derek's jacket over his arm, he checks his
reflection in the mirror above the sink—he shakes his head when he sees the
unkempt state of his hair—before exiting the room.
Stiles finds Derek standing in the hallway outside and sidesteps awkwardly
around the alpha when the slightly taller man makes to enter the bathroom in
his wake. Back in his bedroom, he drapes Derek's jacket over the back of his
desk chair and sits on the edge of his bed while he waits for his companion to
finish getting ready to go to sleep as well. The flashlight rests between his
bare thighs, the beam of light pointing directly at the open door. He hears the
tap running in the other room as he wonders anxiously about how their sleeping
arrangements are supposed to work, the bed really being too small for two
people to fit comfortably inside it without lying practically on top of each
other.
Before Stiles can get too worked up on the subject, though, he sees Derek come
back into the room out of the corner of his eye. The alpha is carrying his
dirty clothes in his arms, which are promptly dumped on the floor. He gasps
when he looks up, not expecting to find the alpha stood before him clad in
nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer-briefs. He immediately feels his
cheeks heat up and, when he looks away, he catches sight of Derek's golden
necklace glinting in the dark hair of his chest.
"Is this OK?" Derek asks, unsure about what Stiles' reaction means. "I
understand if this is too much, too soon. I can sleep on the couch downstairs
if this makes you uncomfortable."
Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. "N-no," he chokes out, "it's
fine." He turns off the flashlight and lays it on his nightstand before sitting
up slightly and pulling the blankets out from underneath his body. Shuffling
sideways, he lies down near the edge of the mattress, facing the wall.
Derek stands next to the bed and waits until Stiles has gotten situated before
sliding onto the mattress beside the teen, bending forward and draping the
sheets over them both. They lie there in awkward silence for a couple of
minutes—Stiles' body remaining tense the entire time—before Derek decides that
they're being stupid. He turns to face the teen and wraps an arm around his
torso, pulling him back until their bodies are pressed together from head to
toe.
Stiles squeaks when he is manhandled, having not expected the sudden contact.
"Derek?" he asks uncertainly, his low voice still sounding loud in the quiet of
the room.
"Just go to sleep, Stiles," Derek instructs, tangling their legs together and
pressing his nose into the nape of the the teen's neck. He swears he'll never
get used to how amazing Stiles smells. He waits for his bedmate to inevitably
freak out, but is surprised when instead, after a few seconds of lying there
still full of tension, he feels Stiles finally relax into his hold and sigh
with contentment. He listens to the teen's breathing even out before closing
his own eyes.
***** Intelligence *****
- Monday, January 16th, 2012 -
Stiles wakes up sweating profusely, his heart racing, and wonders why. His
brain is still sluggish from sleep and it takes him several seconds to register
the arm thrown over his stomach and the scorching body pressed up against his
back. With these new realisations, the previous evening comes back to him and
he remembers that Derek is sleeping in his bed as well. The stifling heat
becomes unbearable and he squirms out of the wolf's grip, sitting up and
glancing at the clock on his nightstand. When he sees that it's just barely
gone four in the morning, he sighs and looks down at the sleeping form next to
him. Smiling, he takes in Derek's unusually relaxed features, which make the
man look years younger. His bladder makes itself known and, making to get up
from the bed, he rolls his eyes fondly when Derek whines and grips tightly onto
his waist, obviously not wanting to let go even in sleep.
Gently uncurling the alpha's fingers from around his hip, Stiles slides
sideways off of the mattress and breathes a sigh of relief when his feet hit
the cold floor. Tiptoeing down the hall to the bathroom so as not to disturb
Derek, he shuts the door carefully and switches on the light, immediately
shielding his eyes when he is blinded by the brightness. Blinking rapidly
through his fingers, he waits impatiently for his eyes to adjust to the sudden
change. Lowering his hand slowly, he is pleased to find that he can now see
everything clearly. A thought hits him when checking his reflection in the
mirror above the sink. Looking curiously up at the light fixture that is set in
the centre of the ceiling, he is confused for a second by the fact that the
thing is working. Now that he thinks about it, it should have struck him as odd
that the clock on his bedside table was switched on as well.
Shrugging, Stiles figures that the little electrical problem he and Derek had
experienced only hours before must have resolved itself while they slept. He
makes use of the facilities and washes his hands before turning off the light
and opening the door. After standing in the hallway for a few seconds until he
can once again see where he's stepping, he is about to head back to bed when he
realises just how thirsty he is. He goes instead down the stairs and into the
kitchen, still stepping lightly to create as little noise as possible. Pulling
a glass out of the cupboard, he fills it with water from the sink before
gulping it down, the liquid working wonders and helping greatly to cool him
down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sets the glass in the
drying rack next to the plates and saucepans Derek washed up earlier.
Instead of heading back upstairs, Stiles stands there for a while with his
hands resting on the countertop, staring out of the window above the sink. The
back garden is just visible through the glass, the patio light that hangs above
the back door helping to illuminate the expanse of green he can see. The trees
that start at the edge of the grass are just hidden from view, the moonlight
not enough to bring them out of the shadows. The thought that something could
possibly be watching him from the darkness sends a shiver through his body, and
he quickly steps back from the counter and turns away from the window. Walking
through to the entrance hall, he checks that the front door is still locked. It
doesn't matter to him that a simple lock like the one installed beneath the
handle wouldn't possibly be enough to deter Landon from intruding; it's
reassuring nevertheless, and he allows himself that naive comfort before
heading back upstairs.
Stiles is careful to look where he is stepping as he makes his way back into
his room, not wanting to trip over something and create a loud noise that will
wake Derek. When he is once again in the familiar space of his bedroom, he
finds Derek still fast asleep in his bed, though one of the alpha's arms is
stretched out to the other side of the mattress as if in search for his missing
bedmate. Now that he's back in his room, he pays attention to the temperature
and notices that it's actually reasonably cool, a contrast to what he'd felt
upon waking. This leads him to attribute the stifling heat that woke him
earlier to having a werewolf curled around him, the higher than normal
temperature of Derek's body obviously not lending itself well to sharing a bed.
He walks over to his window and slides it open a few inches, allowing the cold
night air to seep into the room.
Stripping off his shirt as an extra precaution, Stiles slips back onto the
mattress and immediately finds himself being grabbed by Derek's eager hands. He
lets himself be pulled back so that their bodies are crushed together again and
smiles when he feels Derek snuffle into the skin on the back of his neck.
Hoping the open window and his new lack of clothing will help prevent him from
overheating again, he pulls he covers back up and allows himself to drift off
once more.
                                     * * *
The light of the morning sun is shining directly onto Derek's face when he
wakes up. He groans at the sensation, holding a hand up to block out the
disturbing rays. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he turns his head and
looks dazedly at his surroundings, reacquainting himself with the familiar
decor of Stiles' bedroom. Everything is still how he remembers leaving it the
previous night, his dirty clothes thrown in a messy pile just inside the door,
his jacket hung over the back of the desk chair. Lowering his hand slowly, he
is relieved when the bright light of the sun doesn't cause his eyes to burn
again. Looking down, he sees that he must have moved positions during the night
as he's now lying on his back with Stiles curled into his side, crushing his
left arm. The teen's own arm is draped around his body, with his head resting
on his chest. Stiles' dishevelled hair tickles the underside of his chin.
Grunting when Stiles shifts against him, pressing them both even closer
together, Derek wraps his left arm around the slender body. It is this action
that leads him to realise that Stiles is no longer wearing the shirt he brought
to bed. The new information sends a thrill down his spine and he wonders when
the shirt made its disappearance. The sheets are pooled down around their
ankles. Peering over at the clock on the bedside table, he is happy to see that
it's only just gone seven in the morning. He was worried the previous evening
with how tired he felt that he might sleep too long and end up not leaving
himself enough time to travel up to Oregon to meet with Holly Thomas. As it is,
he has about two hours before he has to leave, the calculations he made before
going to sleep telling him the drive should take approximately nine hours.
Derek contemplates whether he should make the drive back to Beacon Hills
immediately after seeing Holly or if he should find a hotel in the area and
spend the night there before heading back the following morning. The latter is
by far the more tempting choice—the thought of driving all night with no sleep
not appealing to him in the slightest—but the prospect of leaving Stiles and
the rest of his betas without their alpha for such a long period of time leads
him to reluctantly choose the first option. Deciding that he'll simply have to
make sure to drink plenty of coffee on the drive back, he is pulled out of his
thoughts when Stiles stirs beside him.
"Ugh, what time is it?" Stiles asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes and tilting his
head up to blink blearily at Derek, waiting for a response. He smacks the wolf
on the chest when the alpha starts laughing instead of answering his question.
"Hey! What's so funny?" he demands, his bottom lip sticking out in a childish
pout. He shimmies slightly down the mattress and fits himself between Derek's
legs so that he's practically lying on top of him.
The difficulty Derek was experiencing trying to stifle his laughter is quickly
made much easier, their new, more intimate position helping greatly to shut him
up. He chooses not to say anything about the deep imprint his triskelion
necklace has left in Stiles' cheek. "It's nothing, I promise," he lies, rubbing
his hand up and down Stiles' back and couple of times before resting it on the
teen's shoulder blade. "And it's 7:15, so you still have plenty of time to get
ready for school before Scott and Kira pick you up."
Stiles frowns at Derek's words, the thought of having to go through the
monotony that is high school while Derek is off finding out vital information
not one that sits right with him. "Can't I just come with you?" he asks,
folding his hands together on Derek's chest and resting his chin atop them.
"Seriously, I know I won't be able to concentrate on anything anyway. Plus, my
grades are pretty much impeccable, so I can stand to miss a day or two without
it affecting anything."
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea..." Derek says slowly. "There are already
going to be two of you not there today with Allison and Jackson still missing,
so a third person from your social group might look a little suspicious."
"That's where I think you're wrong," Stiles says smugly, fiddling with Derek's
necklace. "I already have it all planned out in my head: you'll say yes, and
then we'll get Scott to get his mom to call the school and tell them that my
dad is ill and that I caught his illness when I was taking care of him. Then
she'll say that Jackson got it from me—I think I remember him saying his
parents are out of town on business, so they won't be a problem—and Chris can
probably cover for Allison. I'll have to get Scott to check on that last bit,
though..."
Derek raises an eyebrow suspiciously. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think I'll
change my mind and agree to take you with me in the first place?" he asks
curiously, a smirk playing on his lips.
Stiles grins, dropping Derek's necklace and patting the wolf's chest a couple
of times. "Because you love me and I know you won't be able to stand being away
from me for such a long time!" he proclaims proudly, laughing when Derek
grumbles and rolls his eyes.
"Fine, but you have to check and make sure that Melissa is definitely OK with
excusing you before I let you come," Derek reluctantly agrees, vowing to
himself to never admit to Stiles just how close to the truth he actually was.
Nodding his agreement, Stiles jumps up so that he's sat on the edge of the
bed—narrowly avoiding kneeing Derek in the crotch in the process—and grabs his
phone from the nightstand. Swiping his finger across the screen, he navigates
to his messages and types out a text to Scott explaining the new plan, knowing
that it will most likely serve as the beta's alarm. "OK, all done!" he
announces, sliding his phone back onto the nightstand next to the flashlight he
put there last night before turning back to Derek. "How long have we got before
we have to leave?"
Derek looks over at the clock again. "Well, it's 7:31 now, so we've got about
an hour and a half to spare if we want to get there on time," he explains
confidently, running his left hand through his hair before tucking it behind
one of the pillows beneath his head. He scratches absently with his right hand
at an itch that suddenly appears in his armpit, sighing in relief when the
irritating sensation stops.
Stiles' eyes follow the movement of Derek's hand, practically hypnotised as he
stares at the dark hair of the alpha's underarm. He's never found armpits even
remotely attractive before, but apparently he finds every little thing about
the man lounging in his bed to be irresistible. "So, no rush then... Good,"
Stiles says eventually, coughing awkwardly as he stands and heads over to his
dresser, intent on pulling out a new set of clothes for the day.
While Stiles is rifling through the drawers, Derek has a clear view of the
teen's bare back. Moles dot the expanse of pale skin. He thinks this must be
the first time he has seen Stiles without a shirt on. He's not disappointed,
but concern does begin to stir in his gut again when he realises he can count
each knob of the teen's spine. It's not a surprising revelation—the small
amount of food Stiles has been consuming for the past few months was a definite
indicator—but nevertheless, it's a little disconcerting actually seeing the
results with his own eyes.
"I'm gonna take a shower!" Stiles announces, walking out of the room.
Resolving firmly that he'll be stopping at least a couple of times on their
journey to stuff Stiles full of junk food, Derek follows the teen's lead and
leaves the comfort of the bed. He watches the boy's retreating back as Stiles
goes into the bathroom with clean clothes in hand. Putting off the task of
getting dressed himself for the moment, he chooses to head downstairs instead,
flicking on the coffee pot when he reaches the kitchen. He plucks two mugs from
one of the cupboards, snorting with amusement when he notices that one of them
has the words, 'I'm Not Always a Bitch... Just Kidding, Go Fuck Yourself!'
stamped in thick, black letters around the outside. He thinks it's obviously
from Stiles' collection.
As Derek sets the mugs down on the counter, the sound of Stiles' off-key
singing reaches his ears, just audible above the noise of the running water
from the shower. He doesn't recognise the song, though he muses the reason for
that could just be that it's being butchered so badly. The coffee pot beeps and
he pours the brown liquid into the two mugs, filling his own to the brim and
leaving some space in Stiles' in case the teen wants to add milk. He guesses
that will be the case, along with what he himself will no doubt deem to be an
absurd amount of sugar. Blowing on his steaming drink, he leans back against
the counter, crossing his ankles and bringing the rim to his lips. He sips
lightly and sighs in contentment when the hot coffee makes its way down his
throat and begins warming his body.
The singing and running water cuts off when Derek is about halfway done with
his coffee. He listens attentively to the sounds of doors and drawers being
opened and shut through the ceiling before Stiles comes barrelling down the
stairs, clad in that day's outfit. As Stiles enters the room, Derek sees that
he has opted to go for a pair of red Chinos coupled with a dark blue t-shirt he
thinks is vaguely familiar. Across the chest is the word, 'stud', with a
drawing of a muffin positioned beneath. He must have seen Stiles wearing the
thing before. One of the teen's usual flannel shirts completes the ensemble.
It's a nice look on him.
"I'm totally going to steal this from you one day, you know," Stiles says
casually, taking Derek's leather jacket from where he'd folded it over his
right arm and draping it instead over one of the stools around the kitchen
island. The scent of coffee hits his nose, making him look up and scan the room
excitedly. "Ooh, coffee, coffee, coffee!" he yells when he spots the mug
sitting behind Derek on the counter, immediately rushing over and taking it in
his hands. "You're a life saver!"
"I try," Derek says sarcastically, hiding his smirk behind his mug as he
watches Stiles fix his drink to his liking. As predicted, several spoonfuls of
sugar are quickly added before the teen actually takes a sip.
Stiles quirks an eyebrow at Derek when he feels himself being watched, running
his eyes down the alpha's body appreciatively. He quickly flicks his gaze away,
however, when he sees just how Derek's crossed legs are putting the
considerable bulge hidden behind the fabric of his boxer-briefs on prominent
display. "Were you planning on getting dressed at all or...?" he asks
inquisitively, bringing his gaze back up to the man's face.
"Why? Does me being in just my underwear make you uncomfortable?" Derek asks,
pushing away from the counter and setting his now-empty mug next to the sink.
He tilts his head to the side as he waits for an answer.
"N-not really, no," Stiles stutters, coughing awkwardly a couple of times. He
has to break their eye contact and look away before he is able to continue.
"It's just...you're stood there all irresistible in your nakedness and adorable
with your hair still all messed up from sleeping. You're distracting, but we
don't exactly have time to get into anything right now so it's kind of a tease
and I'm finding it super annoying."
Derek chuckles at the explanation, easily accepting and admitting to himself
that if their roles were reversed he would be likely to feel the same. "Well, I
guess I'll go put some clothes on then," he relents, leaving Stiles in the
kitchen and jogging up the stairs. He hears coughing and spluttering coming
from behind himself when he reaches the landing and looks back down curiously,
resisting the urge to laugh when he sees Stiles' face peeking around the
doorframe from the living room, the teen trying to regain his composure.
"Sorry!" Stiles chokes out, wiping at the thin trail of coffee that had escaped
his mouth when he'd begun coughing. "I totally wasn't just checking out your
ass or anything... Nope! I'm just gonna...yeah..." His cheeks are bright red as
he points pathetically behind himself and retreats back into the kitchen.
Shaking his head in amusement, Derek proceeds into Stiles' bedroom and pulls
out a clean pair of jeans and a heather grey Henley from the dresser. Borrowing
the topmost hand towel from the pile that sits on a shelf in the Stilinskis'
linen closet, he heads into the bathroom and gets ready for the long day ahead.
He finds his toiletries are all where he left them the previous day and soon
enough he is stood in front of the mirror sporting the comfortable clothes he'd
chosen specifically for the long car ride ahead. Running his hands through his
hair to fix it as best as he can, he is eventually forced to give up on making
it look perfect when one lone tuft seems set on sticking up noticeably near the
back. He thinks he must have slept on it funny. Groaning in annoyance, he tries
one last time to bring the strands under control, but not even wetting his
fingers under the cold water from the tap makes a bit of difference.
Derek is stopped from narrowing his eyes at his unruly hair in the mirror's
reflection by a knock at the door.
"Der? Did you fall in or something? You've been in there for like, half an hour
now!" Stiles says from out in the hallway. He had grown concerned when he was
halfway through cooking their breakfast, Derek's prolonged absence seeming
conspicuous and unusual.
Opening the bathroom door, Derek steps out to join Stiles in the hallway and
his eyes immediately hone in on the large smear of what looks like flour that
stains the left side of the teen's flannel outer shirt. "Did you have an
accident or something?" he asks, indicating to the white spot when Stiles just
looks baffled by his question.
Stiles looks down and sees the flour, wiping a hand over the white powder again
in a feeble attempt to rid it from his clothes. "Uh, you could say that. I
apparently got a little too excited when I was cooking us something to eat and
got flour all over the kitchen. I'll admit that it's not the first time it's
happened... The counter caught the worst of it this time, though."
Derek smiles fondly, saying nothing and ushering the teen back downstairs and
into the kitchen. When he enters the room, he finds that Stiles wasn't
exaggerating; what looks to be a whole bag of flour is spread across the
entirety of the counter, with some of it having fallen over the edge and into
piles on the floor. "You weren't kidding when you said you got it everywhere,
were you?" he says disbelievingly, his eyes wide with shock.
"Please, I never kid," Stiles jokes, smiling when he gets a laugh out of Derek.
"Do you feel like helping me clean it up or...?" He turns his best puppy-dog
eyes on the man as an extra form of persuasion. He thinks batting his eyelashes
may be overkill, but he does it anyway.
Derek sighs good-naturedly before obliging, taking the nearly empty bag from
where it rests on the island in the middle of the room and positioning it
underneath the counter. He sweeps his hand through the flour several times
until the majority of it is back where it belongs. "I think this is all still
useable," he says, handing the bag off to Stiles and narrowing his eyes when he
realises that he just did most of the work all by himself. "Your plan was to
make me do everything by myself all along, wasn't it?"
"Guilty," Stiles admits, smiling proudly. He puts the bag of flour back in the
pantry, having gotten the small amount he needed into the mixing bowl he was
using before his little accident earlier. He goes back to preparing breakfast,
grabbing the milk from the fridge and pouring a guessed amount into the bowl to
join the flour. He's thankful that the power started working again in the
middle of the night before any of the fridge and freezer's contents had a
chance to spoil.
Derek watches Stiles work from what is fast becoming his usual spot sat at the
kitchen island. "So, what are we having?" he asks curiously, ruling pancakes
out again by the absence of a frying pan on the stove.
Instead of answering verbally, Stiles stops stirring his concoction and pulls
out a waffle maker from one of the cupboards underneath the counter where he
works. He sets the device next to the sockets on the wall before plugging it in
and gesturing to it with his hands in exaggerated sweeping motions. The action
makes him feel like one of the women he's seen on the shopping channels on
television whenever he was bored and bereft of something interesting to watch.
"Ah," Derek says simply, nodding and smiling at Stiles' antics.
"Yup! The breakfast of kings," Stiles states happily, finishing off the batter
by pouring in some sugar. He turns on the waffle maker and spoons in some of
the mixture before closing the lid. He leans back against the counter while he
waits for the first one to cook. "So, what did take you so long up there?" he
enquires.
Derek tilts his head down slightly and points at the stubborn tuft of hair on
the back. "I couldn't get that to stay down..." he says, the tips of his ears
turning slightly pink in embarrassment. He feels Stiles' fingers run through
the spot a couple of times and resists pushing into the touch.
"Wait here a second, 'k?" Stiles instructs, quickly withdrawing his hand. "Take
out the waffle if it beeps before I get back!" He rushes upstairs to his
bedroom, leaving Derek staring after him, bewildered. He flings open his closet
door and rummages through the various junk lining the bottom, yelling in
triumph when he finds what he's looking for. He whizzes back downstairs into
the kitchen. When he plugs what he found into the free socket next to the one
already being used by the waffle maker, he notices that a golden brown waffle
now sits on one of the two clean plates beside the maker and, from the looks of
things, a second is now being cooked.
"Is that a hair straightener?" Derek asks warily when he sees what Stiles has
clutched in his hand. He leans back slightly in fear when the device is snapped
twice close to his face. "Why do you even have that?" He reluctantly turns
around when the teen indicates to do so, offering the back of his head to
Stiles' ministrations.
Stiles combs his fingers through the uncooperative strands of hair at the back
of Derek's head a couple of times before positioning the straighteners around
them. "You seriously have no idea about the shit Lydia and Erica force me to do
with them whenever we have pack nights over here, do you?" he scoffs, recalling
the many nights he has been roped into helping the two girls play around with
their hair. "It's like they forgot Danny exists and turned me into their 'gay
best friend' instead."
Derek flinches when Stiles closes the straighteners around his hair, the heat
from the device something he's not used to feeling. "I see..." he says
nervously, letting Stiles work. "Really, though—and I don't mean this in a bad
way, so please don't take it like that—if I'm being honest, I can see you doing
this sort of stuff more easily than I can Danny."
"Oh really?" Stiles asks, running the heated panels along Derek's hair one last
time, twisting downward slightly so that the hair rests nearly flat against the
alpha's head. He is pleased with the result, thinking that if he weren't
actively looking for it, he wouldn't be able to tell that any strand of hair
was out of place. "There! All done." He flicks the socket off and takes the
plug out, wrapping the lead around the straighteners to keep them closed before
setting them on the counter to take back upstairs later.
Derek feels the back of his head with his hand and is pleased with what he
finds. "Yeah," he says cautiously, not knowing how Stiles will react to his
words. "I mean, at first I thought you were completely straight—your obsession
with Lydia really helped that impression—but the more time we spent around each
other, I just got a feeling that there was more to it, you know?"
"I suppose," Stiles admits, taking the second waffle out of the maker when it
beeps and pouring more batter in its place. "I guess I'd be lying if I said I'd
never seen a guy and thought, 'Wow, he is really attractive!'. It was just
never that intense a feeling for me to really think about following through.
Then you showed up one day and started fucking with my head." He wags a
facetiously disapproving finger in Derek's direction.
Rolling his eyes, Derek gets himself a glass of milk while he waits for his
breakfast to be finished. "I'm sure that was such a hardship for you," he
teases, downing half of his drink in one go.
"It actually was, I'll have you know!" Stiles defends, narrowing his eyes as he
watches Derek's throat work as he drinks. "I went from pining after Lydia,
knowing that my chances where slim at best, to having a whole identity crisis
when I started pining after you instead. Only this time, I thought I had
absolutely no chance at all since, after hearing about Kate and Paige and your
whole thing with Jennifer Blake, you seemed one-hundred percent straight. So
yeah, unattainable, even without factoring in the age difference." He takes the
third waffle out of the machine.
Derek watches as Stiles scrapes out the bowl to get at the last of the batter.
"But I guess things worked out well enough in the end, right?" he asks, bumping
his hip against Stiles' and sliding an arm around the teen's waist to bring
their bodies flush together.
Stiles smiles up at Derek. "Oh, definitely," he admits, pecking a quick kiss on
the alpha's lips before sliding the fourth and final waffle onto his plate and
switching off the machine at the socket. He leaves it out and open for the
moment to allow it to cool again before he can clean it and put it away.
"Good," Derek says simply, taking both plates and putting them at their places
side by side on the kitchen island. The action already feels familiar. "I think
we're developing something of a routine..." He takes his seat and watches as
Stiles proceeds to load his own plate with an absurd amount of whipped cream
and syrup like he did with his pancakes the previous day. "You have a
problem..."
Stiles looks up with wide eyes, halfway through taking his first bite of food.
"Wha-?" he garbles out, spraying whipped cream across the countertop. He
swallows when he sees the mess he made.
"I'm not helping you clean that up," Derek says immediately, not wanting a
repeat of the flour. He holds up both hands when Stiles turns his puppy-dog
eyes on him again. "And nothing you do is going to convince me otherwise! I'm
standing firm."
Tearing off a couple of squares of kitchen roll, Stiles wipes up his accident
and tosses the soiled tissue in the dustbin that sits open on the other side of
the room. "What kind of 'firm' are we talking about here?" he asks, winking. He
laughs when Derek just rolls his eyes, following suit when the alpha continues
eating without saying a word. When they've both had their fill, he checks the
time on his phone and sees that he has a new text from Scott. "Alright, Scott
says we're good to go; his mom will take care of everything. Now, we have about
forty-five minutes to get everything ready for this trip." He drags Derek back
upstairs and pulls the man's duffel bag out from underneath his bed. "Since
we're going to be getting there pretty late and the drive is super long, are we
going to be spending the night somewhere?"
Derek takes his bag from Stiles when the teen hands it to him. "Well, I was
planning on just driving back right after I got all the info from this Holly
woman, but that was before you decided you were coming with me..." he explains,
shoving a change of clothes inside the bag. "I suppose I could be persuaded to
spring for a hotel room for the night. I wasn't really looking forward to
driving for so long on such little sleep anyway." When his essentials are all
packed, he zips the bag up and places it on the bed while he waits for Stiles
to do the same.
"Cool, cool," Stiles mutters absently, rummaging through his drawers now that
Derek is no longer stood in front of them. He doesn't bother packing a night
shirt, assuming he'll find himself becoming too warm if he wears one like he
did the previous night. The last things he shoves in the old backpack he's
using are his toothbrush, toothpaste and deodorant. He grabs Derek's while he's
in the bathroom and hands them to the alpha when he gets back into his bedroom.
"So, is that everything?"
"I think so," Derek answers, slinging his duffel over his shoulder and
following Stiles back downstairs. They both set their bags next to the front
door as they make their way through to the living room.
Stiles looks at the clock hanging on the wall and checks the time before
turning to grin evilly at Derek. It widens when the alpha looks sufficiently
wary. "Hmm, we've still got half an hour to kill... What terrible comedy can I
subject to you in that time, I wonder?"
Derek groans loudly.
                                     * * *
Hours of driving later, Derek and Stiles are nearly finished with their first
trip. The journey had started off filled with conversation, but as they
eventually ran out of things to talk about, the car had lapsed into
companionable silence. Their hands are once again linked together over the
centre console, and Stiles thinks that this is how they'll always be when
driving together, at least if he has a say in the matter. They had crossed into
Oregon some time ago. The back seat is littered with several scrunched-up bags
of fast food from Derek making good on the promise he'd made himself earlier,
to get a little more meat on Stiles' bones. There were a few leftover scraps,
but the teen had eaten most of what was put in front of him, so Derek counts it
as a win. Soon enough, they pass the sign saying they're entering Oak Grove and
he asks Stiles to direct them to Holly Thomas' address using his phone.
When they pull up outside a rather sizeable-looking house on the outskirts of
town, Stiles gapes when he sees the state the place is in. It reminds him a
little bit of the Hale house, only not as bad. With a little imagination he can
see in his head that at one time the building must have been stunning to look
at. As it is, one side looks to have fallen into disrepair, the windows boarded
up with the glass panes smashed. The left side of the house is practically
caved in, almost as if there was an explosion there that left everything in
ruins. The right side doesn't look much better. The only signs that someone
even lives there are the fact that the grass is cut short, that light can be
seen through several of the intact windows and that there are two cars already
parked in the driveway, though one of them doesn't look like it's been used in
several years.
Derek checks the time using the clock on the dashboard and sees that they have
managed to arrive with just under five minutes to spare. There were a couple of
times during the journey where he was worried that traffic would cause them to
be late, but he relaxes now he knows they won't be. Opening the driver's-side
door, the setting sun casts a yellow glow over their surroundings as he exits
the car.
Following Derek out of the Camaro and walking up the steep front steps, Stiles
thinks Holly's whole pack must have lived happily in the house before Landon
came and destroyed everything. He is brought out of his thoughts when Derek
knocks loudly on the front door. They wait together on the porch.
The sound of a television cuts off abruptly and, a few seconds later, the door
swings inwards to reveal a short woman with cropped, brown hair and a very
pointed nose. Her dark brown eyes look almost black in the waning sun as she
takes in the two visitors on her doorstep. "Yes?" she asks, looking between the
two young men suspiciously. Her left arm is stretched out so that her hand
grips the doorframe, blocking the view of the inside of the house.
"My name is Derek Hale. I'm the alpha of the Hale pack in Beacon Hills,
California, and this is my partner and one of my pack members, Stiles
Stilinski," Derek explains, introducing them both. He has to fight back a smile
when he sees Stiles wave enthusiastically at the woman out of the corner of his
eye. "I think Alan Deaton called you yesterday and told you we were coming?"
At this new information, the woman's expression loses its wariness. Her face
lights up in a pleasant smile as she ushers them inside and closes the door.
"I'm sorry about that. It's just, after everything that happened with Holly,
the town kind of sees us as pariahs and it's not out of the ordinary for some
of the kids to egg the house or paint hateful messages on the door. I can never
be too careful. My name's Maria, by the way. I'm Holly's sister."
Stiles winces in sympathy, declining Maria's offer of taking Derek's leather
jacket from his shoulders. He guesses that she was going to put it up with the
various other coats already hanging from the many hooks lining the wall beside
the front door. He trails after Derek when the alpha follows Maria down the
hallway to the right, looking around the place with great interest. Unlike the
exterior, the inside of the house still looks relatively homey, he thinks. She
leads them through the double doors at the end of the hall and into what looks
like the living room. The fireplace that sits in the middle of the far wall is
the only source of light, the roaring fire within the brick structure casting
big shadows on the walls. A worn, green sofa sits opposite the fire with two
armchairs on either side. The dark wood coffee table in the centre of it all is
piled high with candles and various other knickknacks. The television that
hangs on the wall is paused, frozen on a frame of what looks like a police
station.
"Please, have a seat," Maria offers, gesturing with her hand to the sofa. "I'll
just go and wake Holly up. She needs a lot of sleep these days..." With that,
she rushes from the room.
Derek cranes his neck around uncomfortably and stares after the woman, watching
as she disappears back down the hallway and through one of the other doors they
passed a minute ago.
"It must be a lot of work for her, having to take care of her sister all the
time..." Stiles comments sympathetically. He couldn't imagine being completely
responsible for another adult human being, especially twenty-four-seven.
Derek makes a noncommittal noise. "I suppose it's just what you do when it's
someone you love that needs the help," he mutters, turning back around and
inspecting the room more closely. Everything seems relatively well kept, though
there are some signs of wear here and there. He sinks back into the cushions
and thinks that at least the sofa is comfortable, though he hopes he doesn't
have to sit on it for that long. He is eager to get the information he needs
before going on his way. Thinking about the bed he has waiting for him in his
room at the hotel nearby, he is grateful he had the forethought to book in
advance that morning so he doesn't have to deal with it now, when his lack of
sleep is making itself known. Just as he starts to slump sideways, his eyes
drooping, their host comes back into the room.
"Would anyone like a cup of tea while we wait for Holly to get herself
dressed?" Maria asks, picking up the two empty mugs that sit on the edge of the
coffee table. When both Derek and Stiles decline her offer, she smiles
nervously and walks through to the kitchen, switching the kettle on and putting
two fresh teabags in the mugs. After a couple of minutes, she reemerges with
two steaming drinks clutched in her hands, setting them back on the table.
Derek picks up on the anxiety that radiates from Maria. "What's wrong?" he
asks, leaning forward.
Maria shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "It's nothing, really... It's just
that what happened was so horrible and it took us this long to reach a place of
acceptance with it all and start to move on," she explains, making an effort to
relax back into the armchair she sits in. "The thought that this thing is back
and could do the same thing to you brings all of those feelings back, you know?
Plus, I was never really part of Holly's pack—the whole 'supernatural' thing
freaked me out too much—so having an alpha in the house again is a
little...unnerving."
Looking contrite, Derek averts his eyes at Maria's words. "I'm sorry," he
apologises, feeling bad for causing the woman to feel ill at ease in her own
home.
Maria waves him off. "Don't mention it. I know you don't mean any harm. You're
just here to make sure that no one in your pack gets hurts, right?" she asks,
already knowing the answer. Before the conversation can continue, the sound of
a bell ringing echoes from down the hallway. "I'll be right back. That's Holly
telling me she's ready."
A minute later, Maria reenters the room pushing a blonde woman in a wheelchair.
She wears a simple white shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Her long, blonde hair
is tied up into a messy bun on top of her head. Both Stiles and Derek gasp when
they see her face. Running up from under her shirt, the entire right side of
Holly's face is marred with deep, painful-looking burns that remind both guests
of the state Peter was left in after Kate burned down the Hale house. The
remainder of her skin is scarred with thin, elegantly carved lines that Derek
finds instantly familiar. They make him think of the cuts he remembers Landon
etching into his own arms when he fought and killed Jeremy, starting this whole
mess.
"Holly," Maria says, wheeling the chair to rest on the other side of the coffee
table, opposite the sofa, "this is Derek and Stiles. They're the two I told you
about yesterday. They're facing the same thing that hurt you and killed your
pack."
Holly's eyes flick between Derek and Stiles with interest. "I hope to God that
you're able to stop this thing before he gets what he wants from you," she
says. Her voice is incredibly raspy, sounding like she smokes a thousand
cigarettes a day. She smiles gratefully when Maria hands her one of the mugs of
tea, holding it between her hands to warm her up.
"Well, that's why we're here: to find out what he did to you and what he wants
with us," Derek explains, looking between the two women. "Then we'll hopefully
be able to think up a plan to take him out before he hurts anybody else. I
understand you're friends with Deaton?" When Holly nods, he returns the action.
"Right, well, apparently you're not the only pack this enemy has hit. Deaton
has journals from other emissaries saying as much, but they all end when their
packs were wiped out and none of them said what he was after."
Holly frowns. "I see. Why don't you tell me what you know to start with?" she
requests, taking a sip of her tea.
Derek acquiesces and explains everything he and Stiles found out the day
before, about the identity of their assailant and how his uncle Jeremy was
murdered for his power. He leaves out that he didn't know about the existence
of his two adoptive uncles until recently, not feeling the information to be
relevant. He goes on to tell the two women about what has happened so far,
about Landon's sudden appearances, the abduction of Stiles' dad and his two
pack members and his uncle's apparent interest in Stiles himself. At the end of
his tale, he sees that both Maria and Holly are staring at Stiles with
calculating expressions on their faces, making his companion shift
uncomfortably next to him. He clears his throat pointedly and is pleased when
the action turns both of the women's attentions back on himself. "So you see,
it would be a big help if you could explain everything that Landon did to you
so we know exactly what we're up against and what he wants," he pleads.
Holly turns back to Stiles. "If this...Landon...has expressed a particular
interest in you, that must mean you have powers of some kind, correct?" she
asks, finishing the last of her tea and handing the mug off to Maria to set
back on the coffee table.
"Yes. How did you know that?" Stiles asks, surprised. He thinks that perhaps
the ex-emissary's dormant powers still allow her some sort of insight into
other peoples' abilities, but Deaton's explanation about how Holly can no
longer access her magic throws doubt onto this theory.
"That'll be why he's so interested in you, then..." Holly says, nodding to
herself. "You see, when Landon first appeared here, he did exactly what he's
doing to your pack now; one by one, the members of mine started disappearing
and were never seen again. From what I was able to get out of him, I don't
think he kills them, at least not immediately, so there'll still be a chance
that they're alive."
Derek nods. "They are," he agrees. "I can still feel them. Plus, one of the
members of my pack is a banshee, so if anyone were close to death...believe me,
we'd know." He settles back into the cushions behind himself and feels Stiles
lean slightly in his direction.
Stiles looks between the two before catching Maria's eye. The two share a
friendly smile before rejoining the conversation. "That still doesn't explain
why Landon is after me specifically, though," he complains, anxious to move on
and get everything out into the open as soon as possible.
"He'll be after you because he wants to get his hands on your powers," Holly
says bluntly. "I don't know how or why he does it... When most of my pack was
gone, there was just me and one other member left, a young woman named Jasmine.
Her powers were particularly dangerous if she ever lost control. She could
teleport. It wasn't very strong, and even just doing it once would take a great
deal out of her, but if something ever scared her or made her jump, she would
suddenly find herself in another place entirely." She chuckles, recalling fond
memories. "There were a couple of times where other people were around in the
places she appeared. My alpha, Michael, and I had to do a lot of explaining and
come up with a multitude of excuses so that nothing supernatural was revealed
to the general public." Her voice is slowly losing its gravelly tone and her
tender expression loses some of its warmth. "As I was saying, it was just
Jasmine and myself left when he came for her..."
Maria places a comforting hand over Holly's when it starts to shake slightly
with nerves.
Holly sends her sister a grateful smile. "I fought so hard to protect her, but
he was too strong and had already gathered too many other powers," she
whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. "He could control lightning and it just so
happened that there was a storm that night, making everything feel like some
climatic scene in a horror movie. We were hiding out in the other side of this
house. That's where all the fuses and everything electrical used to be, along
with the old surveillance equipment we used to use for this place. We could
never be too careful," Holly says, shuddering at the memories. "During the
fight, I was stood beside all of that and one of his bolts strayed and hit
behind me, causing it all to blow up. That's why that part of the house is
caved in and why I have these burns." She gestures to the left side of her
face.
"After that, the fight was pretty much over. Jasmine couldn't really defend
herself—she'd never been that much of a physical person and so never picked up
hand-to-hand combat—and it was easy for him to overthrow her. I was too weak
and in too much pain to help her anymore, and all I could to was watch as he
carved into her face and stole her powers. From the way she screamed, I know it
must have been an incredibly painful process... When he was done with her, he
killed her right then and there before stalking over to me as I lay on the
ground. I managed to choke out a question, asking why he was doing all of this.
That's when he told me about all the others he had killed just for their
powers. Gloated, more like. Before he left, he cut these runes into my face,"
Holly points to the lines of scars that cover the skin not already marred with
old burns, "and took my powers as well. He left me there to die. It's only
because of Maria that I'm still alive. She was living reasonably close to here
at the time and heard the explosion."
Derek and Stiles are silent during the entirety of her storytelling, both
rendered speechless by the awfulness of what they're hearing.
Holly swallows tightly before finishing. "That's why he's after you," she says,
looking at Stiles' horrified expression impassively. "He'll take all of your
packmates one by one until you're as alone as he can get you, and then he'll
strike. He'll take your powers, kill you and move on to the next pack he finds
where the members have special gifts he can steal."
"Oh..." Stiles breathes, processing this new information. While he is terrified
at the prospect of being killed—yet again—the fact that he now actually knows
what's going on provides a little relief.
Derek growls disapprovingly at the thought of his newfound mate being murdered.
The sound draws everybody's attention and he flushes red and quickly apologises
for his loss of control. "Sorry... It's just not very nice thinking that the
same thing that happened to Jasmine could happen to Stiles if we can't stop
it," he explains, gripping the teen's hand tightly.
"Hopefully it doesn't come to that," Holly says. "I don't know anything about
you or your pack, but since you have a close relation to Landon, you might just
succeed where everyone else has failed and finally defeat him. I wish you the
best, but if you'll excuse me, talking about all of this has tired me out more
than I thought it would. I think it would be best if I got some more sleep..."
She calls Maria over and waves goodbye as she is wheeled down the hallway and
back into her bedroom.
When Maria comes back into the living room, she begins clearing up the empty
mugs and puts out the fire, eliminating the room's only light source. The sun
must have finally set while they were talking, because the moon now shines
feebly through the open curtains and provides a low glow that is just enough to
allow the room's human occupants to see. After she is finished cleaning, she
brushes her hands off on her jeans and turns to the two young men still sat on
the sofa. "Do you two have somewhere to sleep tonight before you head back?"
she asks, ready to offer them a spare room but secretly hoping that this new
reminder of the supernatural world will leave as quickly as possible. "You can
rest here until morning, if you have need of a place to stay."
Derek shakes his head. "No, that's fine, thank you. I booked us a room at a
hotel in the next town over," he says, standing up and pulling Stiles along
with him. He follows Maria as she leads the way to the front door and shows
them out. "Thank you again for everything. I know this couldn't have been easy
for either of you." He shakes Maria's hand when the woman offers it.
"You're welcome. I hope you stop this bastard," Maria declares before bidding
them farewell and shutting the door.
Stiles turns and follows Derek down the front steps. Before he reaches the
bottom, he trips over a loose brick and is sent tumbling to the ground. He
hears a distinctive crunch when his side connects with the rough gravel.
"Fuck!" he yells, wincing and clutching his side as Derek helps him up. "Ugh,
my ribs were still hurting a little from that day Landon attacked us in the
loft... This isn't going help the healing process..." He prods at his side
carefully, hissing when pain flares up. This causes him to forget about the
breaking sound he had heard when he fell.
Derek stops Stiles' self-inspection and places his hand over the teen's ribs,
leaching all of the pain he can. He returns the smile Stiles gives him at the
action. "Come on. Let's get you to bed before you hurt yourself any more," he
jokes, herding his companion through the passenger door of his Camaro. Heading
around to the other side of the car, he slips in behind the wheel and turns his
keys in the ignition, bringing the vehicle to life. The drive is silent as they
make their way to the hotel they'll be staying in that night, both lost in
their own thoughts.
It nears nine o'clock by the time Derek pulls the car into the hotel's parking
lot. The place looks more impressive in person that it did on the website,
which is saying something because he thought it looked good even then. He locks
the car and listens to Stiles trail along behind him as he makes his way
inside. The reception desk seems both welcoming and professional, as does the
woman sat behind it.
"Welcome!" the woman greets, the tag on her chest revealing her name to Anna.
"What can I help you with?" Her smile is pleasant and congenial.
"Yes, hi. I have a reservation under the name Derek Hale?" Derek says, resting
his arms on the edge of the desk as he watches Anna type his name into the
computer. He glances behind himself and sees Stiles stood a couple of feet
away, turning in place as he takes in all the expensive-looking decorations
that are tastefully and expertly placed around the room. He already knew how
pricey the place was from booking their room that morning, but he guesses the
realisation comes as a shock to the teen.
Anna finishes typing and brings up the reservation. "Ah, yes, Hale. A one-night
stay in one of our deluxe suites?" she asks, clicking away.
Derek turns back to the woman and nods his response, watching as she clicks her
mouse one last time before pushing away from the desk and reaching for
something in one of the drawers. She emerges with a keycard, which she promptly
hands over.
"You're in room 513, on the fifth floor. Enjoy your stay!" Anna dismisses,
smile still in place, pointing to her right before returning to her computer.
Taking Stiles' hand, Derek walks them both over to the elevators that line the
wall Anna pointed to and pushes one of the buttons. The doors slide open after
a few seconds and they both step inside, Derek pushing the button for the fifth
floor and watching as the doors close once more. The elevator springs to life,
carrying them up to their room.
"I'm so tired lately..." Stiles mutters, breaking the silence. "I think I'd
gotten used to running on a small amount of sleep when my nightmares kept me up
most nights and, now that I've started sleeping for longer again, my body is
demanding even more to catch up on what it was missing. It's so annoying..." He
runs his free hand down his face tiredly. The doors open again when he finishes
talking, revealing a long, well-lit hallway lined with many numbered doors.
Derek makes a noise of understanding as they search for their room, smiling
gratefully when he finally finds room 513. Sliding the keycard in the lock, the
door beeps before swinging open, the small light on the handle turning from red
to green. He immediately takes in the immensity of the king-sized bed that sits
in the centre of the main room. It definitely looks comfortable and he can't
wait to slide in between the sheets and get some sleep. He quickly scans over
the rest of the room, liking what he sees. "You want the first turn in the
bathroom?" he asks, turning back to find Stiles perched on the bed.
Stiles shakes his head. "Nah, you go on ahead. I'm gonna text Scott and let it
him know everything went OK and that we'll be back tomorrow as planned," he
says, pulling out his phone and immediately cursing up a storm when he
remembers the crunching sound he'd heard when he fell earlier. The screen of
his phone is completely smashed and a quick survey of the damage reveals it to
be completely broken and unusable. "God damn it! This was new, as well..."
Reaching into his pocket, intent on lending his own phone for Stiles to use for
the time being, Derek panics when he can't find it. He worries for a second
that he must have lost it at some point during their journey, but a quick look-
back at the day's events leads him to the conclusion that he didn't actually
bring it with him that morning. He must have forgotten to pick it back up from
where he'd left it on the coffee table in the Stilinskis' living room after
booking their hotel room. "I left my phone at your house this morning..." he
says guiltily, knowing that some communication with the pack members left back
in Beacon Hills would do a lot to alleviate both his and Stiles' anxiety and
uncertainty.
Stiles puts his broken phone inside one of the empty pockets in his backpack
before pulling out the fresh pair of underwear he packed that morning. "On
second thought, I will use the bathroom first, if you don't mind." He gathers
up his toothbrush and toothpaste when Derek nods his agreement and shuts the
door behind himself after he enters the smaller room. The excitement he'd felt
at the opulence of their temporary lodgings is snuffed out by the thought that,
if something happens when they're gone, the pack won't be able to contact their
alpha. He curses his clumsiness. When he's finished getting ready for bed, he
exits the bathroom and sees that Derek is already in a similar state of
undress, the alpha clad in just his boxer-briefs like he had been the previous
night. "All yours," he says as nonchalantly as he can manage. His voice still
cracks on the last word, giving away just how much Derek's nakedness is
affecting him.
"Thanks," Derek says, stealing a kiss as they pass each other on his way into
the bathroom.
Pulling back the covers, Stiles slides onto the bed and sighs at how soft the
sheets feel against his bare skin. He listens to the water run in the other
room as he waits for Derek to join him. Soon enough, the alpha is done and gets
into the other side of the bed after switching off the light, immediately
pulling him close. He guesses that this is how they will always sleep when
sharing a bed. He can't say he minds. "I hope they're all OK..." he whispers
into the darkness, bringing Derek's arm tighter around his body to reassure
himself. He doesn't bother pulling up the sheets any further than their waists,
knowing that he'll get too hot otherwise. He wishes the weather was colder,
allowing him and Derek to snuggle comfortably deep beneath the duvet. Sleep is
never the same without some form of cover.
"I'm sure they're all fine. And if they're not...then we'll deal with it like
we always do," Derek assures, tucking his nose into the back of Stiles' neck
and wedging one of his legs between the teen's. "We know what Landon wants now
and I'm sure that if we all work together, we can get everybody back in one
piece."
Stiles nods his agreement. "I guess you're right... After all, this isn't the
first time something has threatened us and we've always come out relatively
unscathed, so why should this be any different?" He sighs in contentment when
Derek hums behind him. The alpha shifts their bodies slightly, moving so that
his ass ends up cradled comfortably in the curve of the man's hips. "I could
definitely get used to falling asleep like this."
Derek chuckles sleepily. "I could, too," he agrees. "I'll have to make sure we
do. I've snuck into your room before, so..." With that, the two lapse into
silence as they slowly fall asleep, both knowing that the following day is most
likely going to be a hectic one.
***** Repercussions *****
- Tuesday, January 17th, 2012 -
When Stiles wakes up, it takes him several minutes to remember where he is. He
doesn't try very hard, the immense comfort he feels fogging up his mind until
it's hard for him to really care all that much. The unfamiliar smell of the
room is what finally gets him to fully open his eyes and inspect his
surroundings. When he takes in the clean and understated decor, he remembers
checking into the hotel with Derek the night before. The room looks different
in the light of day, though that may just be because he was too tired to notice
much about it earlier. An expensive-looking digital alarm clock sits on the
nightstand. He peers at the blinking numbers and sees that it's coming up to
half-past-eight in the morning.
Figuring that ten hours of sleep should be enough to get him through the day,
Stiles turns over onto his back and stares at the plain, white ceiling,
thinking about all he'd learned when he'd met with Holly Thomas. The revelation
that their current troubles are caused yet again by himself, however
indirectly, is not a nice one. Looking over at the other side of the bed, he
sees that Derek still appears to be sleeping soundly, also on his back with his
hand tucked behind his head beneath the pillow. His triskelion necklace has
fallen sideways during the night and now rests on the sheets.
Reaching out a hand, Stiles sets the pendant to lay on the alpha's chest where
it belongs before gently sliding the sheets off of his body and rolling out of
bed. The cream-coloured carpet is soft against his bare feet and he sits for a
minute on the edge of the mattress to wiggle his toes in it with delight.
After finally getting bored of the carpet, Stiles stands from the bed and heads
directly into the bathroom, carrying his backpack in his hand and switching on
the light when he sees the small window that is set into one of the walls is
far too small to let in an adequate amount of sunlight. Now that he can see
what he's doing, he relieves himself before dumping his bag down on the now-
closed toilet seat and unzipping it, searching for the set of clean clothes he
packed the previous morning. Coming up victorious, he pulls out his toiletries
as well, knowing from past experience that the complementary amenities provided
by hotels like the one he and Derek are in are usually not the best quality.
Eyeing the shower critically, Stiles decides to take a quick one to wash off
the previous day's travels. Satisfied when the water turns hot, he steps into
the stall and is pleased when he finds it's not cramped like he'd been
expecting and that the water pressure is quite strong. He simply stands there
for a few minutes, enjoying the way the water cascades soothingly over his
skin. Soon enough, his mind begins to wander and he finds himself thinking
about the man still sleeping in the other room. His cock twitches between his
legs as his thoughts get considerably more sexual and he can't resist trailing
his hand down his torso until it curls around his burgeoning erection. He
starts his strokes off slow, leaning back against the wall and just losing
himself in the pleasurable sensations. He closes his eyes and pictures Derek in
his head, thinking of how amazing the man looked spread out on the bed. His
mind keeps flashing back between the dark hair of the alpha's chest and
armpits, his arms and legs and feet, and the trail that lead teasingly down
below the waistband of his tight underwear.
He wonders for a second about why he suddenly seems to have developed such a
kink for body hair before shrugging and deciding to just go with it. The brain
is an amazing organ and, as he fantasises, it's almost like he can smell the
man's amazing scent all around him in the stall, drowning him. He thinks about
how good Derek's beard would feel scratching across his skin, about the little
pricks of pain the alpha's fangs would cause as he bit and sucked his way
across his neck, marking him as his. He brings his free hand up to his chest
and tweaks his nipple roughly, imagining that the alpha is really the one doing
it.
Stiles' strokes increase in speed, his hand working along his shaft
enthusiastically until he's close to losing it. His finger swipes across the
sensitive slit on every upstroke, gathering the pre-come that now leaks from it
in earnest and using it to slick his way. He brings his other hand down from
his nipple and instead circles his finger around his tight, virgin asshole. The
tip slipping inside the tiniest bit is what finally throws him over the edge.
He forces his eyes open and watches his cock pulse in his hand, shooting off
streak after streak of come that all gets washed away by the water still
pouring from the shower head. Slumping backward even further, his legs shaking
slightly from the intensity of his orgasm, he breathes through the aftershocks
until he finally regains control of his body. He doesn't remember ever coming
so hard and he guesses that it's just what Derek does to him. He cannot wait
until he gets to have the real thing. The main event finished with, he quickly
washes his hair and body before stepping out and drying with the fluffy towels
that are folded atop the counter next to the sink. Wrapping his towel around
his waist, he runs his hands through his damp hair as he checks himself over in
the mirror. The dark circles that have been persistently underneath his eyes
since his surrogate sacrifice to save his dad from Jennifer Blake are finally
starting to disappear, and he guesses he has Derek's constant presence the past
two nights to thank for his lack of nightmares. Wondering briefly whether he
would go right back to restless nights if he were to sleep alone again, he
decides he'd rather not find out.
When his hair keeps flopping into his eyes, Stiles thinks that it's really
getting too long and makes a note to book a haircut as soon as this whole mess
with Landon is over and done with. Lydia will no doubt insist on coming with
him to oversee things. Inspecting further down, he pokes carefully at the
purple bruising that is starting to develop along the ribs of his right side,
wincing when the skin twinges painfully. Sighing, he looks beyond the damage
caused by his fall down Holly Thomas' front steps and makes himself take in the
slightly emaciated appearance of his body. It's the first time he's allowed
himself to look at his reflection for more than a passing glance since he began
noticing his declining weight. He doesn't like what he sees. When he thinks
back to how much food Derek had shoved in his lap during the drive to Oregon
the previous day, he realises that the alpha must have come to a similar
conclusion.
Shaking his head and deciding that he'll make more of an effort to get his
appetite back to where it was, he hastily shucks on his clothes, frowning when
he can't find his usual flannel over-shirt and resolving that he must have
simply forgotten to pack one. Shoving his dirty underwear and toiletries into
his backpack, he switches off the light and heads back into the main room,
putting his bag down on the table that sits between the bed and the door. When
he sees that Derek is still sleeping peacefully, he wanders around the room and
examines all of the furniture.
The table is made of sturdy, dark wood, the legs of which are carved with
elegant swirls. The two chairs that surround it are made in a similar fashion
and a folded room service menu is standing upright in the centre. The dresser
that sits beside the bathroom door matches the colour of the table, though it's
plain in design. The five drawers hardly make a sound as he slides them open.
Eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, Stiles notices that a used condom packet
lays right in the middle of the bottom drawer. Shutting the thing quickly, he
is surprised that the cleaning staff in such a high-priced establishment
wouldn't do a more thorough job. He decides to bypass checking the drawers in
the two nightstands just in case something else unsavoury is hidden within
them.
When another quick scan of the room reveals nothing else of interest, Stiles
turns back to the sleeping form still on the bed. He watches as, as if sensing
eyes on himself, Derek shifts slightly until he lies diagonally across the bed,
burying his face in what was, half an hour ago, Stiles' pillow. Unwilling to
wake the slumbering alpha, he pulls the sheets back up to Derek's shoulders and
runs his fingers affectionately through his hair a couple of times. Derek
almost tries to follow when he steps away again, a small whine of
disappointment escaping his mouth when their contact is lost. He smiles when
Derek snuffles adorably in his sleep before settling again. Picking the room
service menu up from the table and looking over its contents, a smile appears
on his lips when he reads that the food comes built into the price of the room.
Seeing no phone anywhere, he pockets the menu and heads out into the hallway
and to the elevator, pushing the button for the lobby. A different woman is
working behind the reception desk when the doors slide open, and he can see
even from a distance that she's very young, possibly only a couple of years
older than him.
The tag pinned to the girl's chest reveals her name to be Georgia, and Stiles
returns her easy smile as he steps up the desk. "Hello, sir!" she chirps
happily, her mellifluous voice instantly warming him up to her. "What can I
help you with this fine morning?" Her heart-shaped face is coloured with a
healthy-looking tan and her features are accentuated with minimal makeup; a
thin line of eyeliner and a small smattering of mascara make her blue eyes pop,
and her full lips are painted with nude lipstick. Her dark brown hair is curled
in tight ringlets that fall just past her shoulders.
Stiles chuckles at her overly professional tone, and he can tell from the wink
she gives him that she's hamming it up deliberately. "Yeah, my name's Stiles. I
just came from my room and," he pulls the menu out of his pocket, "I was
wondering how I'm supposed to order room service? There's no phone in the room,
so..."
"I see... I'm sorry about that, but there have been some problems with the
phones in a lot of suites so the hotel just removed them entirely until they
could be fixed," Georgia explains, reaching for the sleek-looking telephone
that rests next to the computer on the desk. She turns the device to face
Stiles. "You're not even the first person this morning to come down here asking
about it. You can use this for the time being. Just dial this and it'll connect
you to the room service line." She hands over a slip of paper with a series of
numbers printed across it in black ink.
Smiling gratefully, Stiles picks up the receiver and orders a variety of
breakfast foods to be delivered to his and Derek's room as soon as possible. He
thanks the man on the other end of the call before hanging up and sliding the
phone back around to Georgia. Before he can bid goodbye to the girl and head
back upstairs to wait for the food, he is stopped by a hand wrapping gently
around his wrist.
"Wait!" Georgia exclaims. Her cheeks heat up when she realises her actions and
she quickly takes her hand back. "I was wondering... I've been here for hours,
but my shift ends soon and I was wondering if you'd maybe w-want some company?
You ordered a lot of food..."
The stuttering in the request reveals how out of her element it is, causing
Stiles to immediately take pity on the girl. "That's a very nice offer, but I
don't think my boyfriend would like that very much," he says, chuckling again
when Georgia's eyes widen and she gushes out profuse apologies. "It's fine,
don't worry about it." He waves goodbye before heading over to the elevators.
When he's again on the fifth floor, Stiles walks down the hall and back into
his and Derek's room, shutting the door behind himself. He finds the alpha is
still out cold on the bed, though he is now lying on his back again, the sheets
pushed down to his waist. With nothing else to do until the food arrives,
Stiles carefully retakes his place on the bed, smirking when, as soon as his
back hits the mattress, Derek unconsciously seeks him out and presses their
bodies together. Werewolves are particularly tactile even when sleeping, it
seems. As the minutes tick by, he stares at the ceiling like he did when he
first woke up and wonders about how the rest of the pack is doing back in
Beacon Hills. He ponders whether he could persuade Georgia to let him use the
phone again to call and check up on them all before they leave.
A knock on the door snaps Stiles out of his musings and he gets up from the bed
again to answer it, pleased when the hotel staff member on the other side
brings the three dishes he ordered downstairs into the room and sets them atop
the table. Tipping the man with a five dollar bill he finds in his back pocket,
he inspects the food closely, taking in the heavenly aromas before glancing
over at the bed. He had half hoped that the smell of hot food would be enough
to rouse Derek out of sleep, but even though he can see the alpha's nose
twitching slightly, Derek remains dead to the world. He grins evilly when an
idea flashes across his mind. He prowls closer to the bed, his steps
unnecessarily light. Pouncing when he's stood right beside his target, he
launches himself atop Derek and startles the man awake. The reaction he gets is
altogether less dramatic that he had been hoping.
Derek flinches slightly when their bodies collide and his eyes snap open, but
he doesn't actually make a sound. He lies there staring confusedly up at the
teen straddling his waist for several seconds before sighing deeply and arching
his neck back, extending his arms above his head and stretching. "That wasn't
very nice..." he grunts, his voice gravelly from sleep.
Stiles smirks down at Derek as he leans forward, supporting himself with his
hands resting either side of the alpha's head. "Sorry, but I couldn't resist,"
he excuses, pressing their lips together when Derek does nothing but look at
him dubiously. He makes a pleased noise when the man's hands come up to grip
his cheeks, prolonging the kiss until he has to pull away from lack of oxygen.
"I ordered us breakfast, by the way." He clambers off of the bed, walks back
over to the table and returns carrying two of the plates in his hands. He gives
Derek the one piled with french toast and bacon when the alpha sits up to
accept it. Sitting down in the empty spot on the mattress, he digs into his own
dish of sausages and scrambled eggs.
"Did you have to pay for this?" Derek asks, inspecting his food cautiously
before starting to eat. The alpha in his head disapproves of the idea of Stiles
having to fork out money for anything himself, wanting to provide every little
thing for its mate so that he's well taken care of.
Stiles shakes his head. "Nope! I saw on the menu that it's supposed to be
included in the price of the room," he announces gleefully, happy for the free
meal.
"How long have you been awake?" Derek asks, noticing that Stiles is fully
dressed and has damp hair. He'd have thought he would've woken up as soon as
his companion left the bed, but from how alert the teen seems he guesses he
must be wrong.
Stiles pauses in his eating to answer. "Not too long, only about an hour or
so," he answers. He knows he's right when he glances sideways at the clock and
sees that it's just gone half-past-nine. "We slept for longer than I thought we
would. You wouldn't think that just sitting in a car all day would make you so
tired, but I guess it does..." Shovelling another forkful of eggs in his mouth,
he smiles around the food when he sees how dishevelled Derek's hair is. If he
didn't think it would get his throat ripped out, he would be tempted to call it
cute.
Derek makes a noise of agreement as he sets his plate down, his ineffable
appetite having allowed him to demolish his food in what seemed to Stiles like
a matter of seconds. Licking his lips appreciatively, he watches as the teen
finishes his own breakfast before taking both plates and stacking them together
on the nightstand. Now that the overpowering scent of the food has started to
disappear, other scents begin assaulting his nose. Frowning, he leans forward
slightly until he's invading Stiles' personal space and sticks his nose right
in the teen's neck, inhaling deeply. His breath hitches when he realises what
it is he can smell.
"Uh, you OK there, dude?" Stiles asks nervously, surprised at suddenly having
Derek practically in his lap. He's not complaining about the unexpected close
proximity—quite the opposite, in fact. He's just confused. Tilting his head to
the side to offer more of his neck to the alpha, he shivers when he feels
Derek's warm breath ghost over the sensitive skin. "Derek? Whatcha doin'
there?"
Derek feels a low rumble build in his chest as he continues to breathe in the
new addition to Stiles' scent. His cock thickens in his boxer-briefs until it
strains uncomfortably within their confines. "I can smell you... You've been
busy this morning..." he whispers, noticing with interest that his lips moving
over Stiles' neck send more shivers down the boy's spine. "I didn't notice it
before because of the food, but...you stink of come." It's the first time he's
smelled it since he realised how he feels about the teen. Finally pulling back,
his eyes shift into their alpha colour when he notices the red flush that has
crept up the vulnerable skin of Stiles' neck. It only makes him want more and
he's powerless to stop his hand as it finds its way down to his crotch, palming
his cock teasingly. "When?"
Stiles tracks the movement of Derek's hand with his eyes, unable to tear them
away as he watches the alpha rub against the obvious bulge in his underwear. It
takes his mind a second to catch up and realise that Derek has asked him a
question. "Um, what?" he replies dumbly, still finding himself unable to think
clearly. He flicks his gaze up to meet Derek's fervent one and promptly feels
his breath catch in his throat when he takes in the red glow of the man's
irises.
Rolling his eyes, Derek stops moving his hand and shuffles over so that their
bodies are even closer together. "When did you come?" he asks again, his mouth
now millimetres away from Stiles' ear. His lips close around the lobe, his
teeth biting tentatively into the smooth flesh.
Swallowing tightly, Stiles grasps a hand around Derek's firm bicep to stabilise
himself when he almost tilts over. "I may have had a little 'Stiles Time' in
the shower before I ordered the food..." he says quietly, his eyes closing of
their own volition. He definitely wasn't expecting this to happen when he woke
up earlier. He's confused for a second when he finds himself on his back, Derek
nowhere to be found. Looking around, he sees that the door to the bathroom has
been pushed closed again and guesses that the alpha must have retreated in
there to take care of himself. Groaning in disappointment, he gets up from the
bed and tiptoes over to the door, pressing his ear against it and listening
intently. He hears suspiciously slick sounds accompanied by the occasional deep
groan. He finds himself hard in his jeans again startlingly quickly. "No fair,
Derek! You could at least let me watch!" he calls through the wood, knowing
that whatever his mind conjures up will pale in comparison to what is actually
happening on the other side. At his words, he hears the alpha curse loudly
before something bangs against the tiled floor. He steps back in surprise when
the lock clicks open mercifully, having not actually expected Derek to listen
to him. His hand shakes as he reaches out to grab the handle, turning it slowly
before pushing the door wide open.
Looking down, Stiles sees Derek's underwear laying in the middle of the floor.
The man himself stands within the shower stall, the glass slightly fogged up
from the hot water. He can just see the outline of Derek's body, one of his
arms moving quickly as he strips his cock. Feeling brave, he takes several
steps into the room and slides the shower door open a few inches. Peering
through the gap, his eyes widen when he's greeted with the sight of Derek's
broad back. The man turns his head to look at him over his shoulder, his mouth
hanging open as he jerks himself off. His eyes fall down to stare at Derek's
firm ass, the tight muscles in the amazing pair of globes flexing as the
alpha's hips thrust forward slightly into his hand.
Stiles throws caution to the wind and steps inside the shower behind Derek, not
caring in the slightest when his clothes get soaked with water. He presses
himself up against the long line of the alpha's body and uses one of his hands
to stop the man's own from working over his cock. Keeping his face pressed
between Derek's shoulder blades, his mouth working against the black ink of his
triskelion tattoo, he worms his hand underneath the alpha's right arm and takes
the man's cock in his own hand. The flesh feels burning hot in his grip, the
silky smooth skin a contrast to the rock-hard flesh it surrounds. He feels more
than hears Derek moan at his touch as he begins stroking along the sizeable
length in his hand, moaning himself when he reaches the tip and his fingers dip
into the hood of the foreskin. Of course the alpha would be uncut, what with
his werewolf healing and all. He keeps moving, Derek's hips pumping into his
hand until the man throws his hand back and practically howls his release.
Warmth spurts across his hand and the wall in front of them in a seemingly
never-ending torrent. He rubs himself off in the crack of Derek's ass until his
second orgasm hits him like a freight train.
Smirking slightly, Stiles figures that his work is done as he steps backward
out of the shower. He slides the door closed again, Derek still standing within
the stall, and makes his way back out into the main room. He looks down at
himself and grimaces slightly. His clothes are sticking to his skin, they're so
wet, and whenever he takes a step he feels his come drying disgustingly in his
boxer-briefs. Stripping out of them, he balls up his soiled underwear and
tosses it inside his backpack, figuring that he can just go commando that day.
There's not much else he can do for the rest of his clothes, so he just peels
them all off and lays them out to dry on the radiator that is set into one of
the walls. Before Derek can finish up in the bathroom and see him in his
birthday suit, he slides back beneath the sheets on the bed and waits for his
clothes to be ready to wear again.
When Derek finally emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed, his hazel eyes
flick over to meet Stiles' own before landing on the radiator. Stiles feels his
face heat up when the alpha grins smugly and raises an eyebrow in his
direction. "Not a word!" he commands, throwing the covers up over his head and
hiding pathetically.
After half an hour, Derek checks Stiles' clothes and figures that they're
adequately dry. He tosses them at the lump on the bed and dutifully turns away
when the teen indicates to do so. The sudden display of shyness from Stiles
feels strange to him when it follows so soon after the teen had helped get him
off in the shower, but he just shakes his head fondly and decides that he finds
it endearing. When Stiles calls his name and says he's finished, his eyes widen
when he catches sight of the time. "We should probably be leaving if we want to
get back home before it gets too late..." he says, putting on his shoes. He
sees Stiles do the same out of the corner of his eye and before he knows it
they've gathered their things and are exiting the hotel room.
Down in the lobby, Georgia is nowhere to be seen and instead, a middle-aged man
with short, greying hair sits behind the desk. While Derek checks them out,
Stiles asks the receptionist whether he can make a call using their phone. The
man eyes him appraisingly before allowing it, knowing that the morning has thus
far been a slow one. He is instructed that he had best be quick so that the
manager doesn't come by and see the phone being used for something other than
taking reservations. He thinks over who to call, knowing that the timing could
possibly make things difficult since most of the pack should be in class.
Perking up, he remembers Lydia telling him that she is supposed to have a free
period that morning and that she would be spending it studying in the library.
He hopes her dislike for answering calls from unknown numbers doesn't hinder
his being accepted.
Dialling Lydia's number from memory, Stiles waits as the phone rings several
times before being picked up. "Lydia? Hey, it's Stiles," he greets, seeing out
of the corner of his eye that Derek has finished checking them out and is now
obviously listening in on the conversation. He rolls his eyes at the alpha
playfully.
"Oh, hello, Stiles. What's going on?" comes Lydia's reply.
"Not too much. We're about to head back now, but we were worried and just
wanted to call and check that everything's still going OK on your end?" Stiles
explains, tapping his fingers on the desk.
The sound of pages being turned can be heard in the background before Lydia
answers. "No, no, everything's fine," she assures. "Nothing's happened while
you've been gone, thank God! We were a little worried yesterday when Cora was
late showing up for first period," Derek instantly looks worried at this, but
his expression quickly turns into one of exasperation at Lydia's next words,
"but it turned out that she just couldn't be bothered to get up in decent time.
I swear, that girl infuriates me sometimes..."
Derek sighs in relief at the news that his sister is OK.
"So, what did you find out yesterday?" Lydia asks, her voice suddenly sounding
far away.
Stiles figures that the girl must have changed to using the speakerphone. He
shakes his head, forgetting temporarily that Lydia cannot see the action. "It's
all a bit much to say over the phone," he excuses, knowing he would feel more
comfortable telling everybody all at once, face to face. The fact that the
receptionist is within hearing distance is also a major factor, and when he
looks up he sees the man giving him a pointed look. "Actually, I'm gonna have
to go now; I'm out of time. I'll tell you all everything when we get home this
evening."
"I suppose I can wait that long..." Lydia teases, bidding Stiles goodbye and
hanging up before he can return the sentiment.
Shaking his head in amusement, Stiles hands the phone back to the receptionist
and turns to look at Derek expectantly. He sees that the alpha has his duffel
bag slung over his shoulder and is waiting patiently. "We all good to go?" he
asks, picking his backpack back up from where he had dumped it at his feet.
"Yup," Derek confirms, more than ready to get back home. He leads the way back
outside to his Camaro and dumps his bag in the backseat before sliding behind
the wheel. When Stiles gets in beside him, he starts the car and reverses out
onto the main road.
                                     * * *
It has just gone seven in the evening when Derek and Stiles reenter Beacon
Hills. The sun is beginning to wane overhead, turning the blue of the clear sky
into a violent orange that bleeds into red the closer it gets to the horizon.
The one positive thing about getting back so late is that they don't have to
deal with the rush hour, the drive through town revealing most of its
inhabitants to have already returned to their homes. A quick glance reveals the
last few stragglers to be collecting take-out food, obviously too lazy or tired
to cook their dinner themselves, or to simply be late heading home from work or
school.
Stiles is immensely grateful when Derek turns the car onto his street and his
house comes into view. His dad's police cruiser is still in its place in the
driveway and he spares a brief thought about how the rest of the force is
coping without their sheriff before putting those concerns out of his mind,
knowing that they won't end up leading to anything good. He follows Derek out
of the car after the alpha shuts off the engine, grabbing his things from the
backseat and grimacing at the amount of crumpled bags and crushed fast food
containers there are in the footwell. The amount of food Derek had bought on
their trip bordered on excessive, but he didn't complain, happy to give in to
the alpha's apparent need to fatten him up a little bit. The first thing he
does after following Derek into the house is to grab a rubbish bag from where
they're kept under the sink before going outside again and clearing up all the
mess. He tosses the now-full bag into the bin on his way back inside and into
the living room.
"Ah, there it is!" Derek says, dumping his duffel bag on the floor and moving
to pick up his forgotten phone from where he'd left it on the coffee table. He
sighs harshly in frustration when a single press of a button reveals the device
to be flat. Remembering that he and Stiles have the same make of phone, he
turns around to face the teen and asks to borrow his charger so that he can get
in contact with his betas and invite them over. He wants them all safe and
together.
"Yeah, sure," Stiles agrees, shrugging. "It's just upstairs." He heads up to
his bedroom, carrying his bag with him, and takes the cable from where it's
currently plugged into the wall beside his bed. Folding the cable a couple of
times so that it's small enough to shove inside his pocket, he unpacks his
backpack, taking his dirty clothes and carrying them out into the hallway
before tossing them in the laundry hamper to wash later. The thing is close to
overflowing and he knows that once Derek's latest soiled clothes join his,
it'll be time to wash it all.
Descending the stairs, Stiles wanders through to the living room and hands
Derek the requested charger cable, returning the man's grateful smile. "You
gonna get everyone over here so we can tell them what we learned?" he asks over
his shoulder as he goes into the kitchen, pulling out a couple of glasses from
one of the cabinets and filling them both with water. He hands Derek one of the
drinks when he's once again stood beside the man.
"That's the plan..." Derek answers, accepting the offered beverage and waiting
impatiently for his phone to become charged enough to switch on. He takes a
seat on the sofa when Stiles drags him down with a hand pulling on the hem of
his shirt. Resting his phone on his thigh, he takes a sip of the water in his
hand, the coldness of it a minor shock as it goes down his throat.
They sit in silence, Derek glancing every few seconds at the screen. He sits
up, alert, when he sees that the device is finally turning itself back on.
"Took long enough..." he mutters to himself, sliding his finger across the
screen to unlock it. It takes a couple of seconds for everything to load, but
once it does, the first thing he sees is that he has an abundance of texts and
missed calls. Frowning, he opens the Messages application and scrolls through,
the contents of them all shocking him and causing his breath to become stuck in
his throat. The glass still in his other hand slips from his grip and shatters
on the hardwood floor, sending the water flying everywhere.
"Derek?!" Stiles exclaims, worried. He leans forward to read the texts over
Derek's shoulder and instantly understands the alpha's intense reaction. All of
the remaining members of the pack had sent a series of texts throughout the
day, each one increasing in its desperation. None of them delve into too much
detail, but it's clear that something terrible occurred while he and Derek had
been driving back. The messages from several of the pack members stop suddenly,
one by one. The last text received was from Lydia just half an hour ago.
Setting up a call with the redhead, Derek holds his phone up to his ear and
mutters under his breath as he waits for her to answer. When she does, he
instantly hears heavy breathing and someone crying in the background. "Lydia?!"
he asks, near-frantic. "Lydia, what's going on?"
"Everything's completely turned to shit!" Lydia yells, her distressed voice
coming out so loud through the speaker that even Stiles can hear every word.
"Just get over to my house quick!" With that, the call goes dead.
Derek stares at the phone in his hand, baffled and worried. "That doesn't sound
good..." Thinking that twenty percent should be enough battery life to get him
through the next hour or two, he unplugs his phone from Stiles' cable and
slides it into his jeans pocket. He ushers Stiles straight back out of the
front door, shutting down the teen's seemingly endless questions with one-word
answers. He would feel bad about his shortness, but his deep concern for his
betas' wellbeing eclipses all of his other emotions. Besides, he doesn't know
what's going on, so he would have no good answers to give anyway. Strapping
himself in, Derek starts the Camaro back up and pulls rather violently out of
the driveway, narrowly avoiding hitting Stiles' dad's cruiser in the process.
He bites his lip until he tastes blood as he speeds along the many streets that
separate the Stilinski and Martin households.
Stiles fidgets nervously in the passenger seat, dreading what they'll find out
when they reach Lydia's house and thinking that it would be just typical for
the shit to hit the fan right as he and Derek leave town. The alpha's whole
body is a ball of tension next to him, mirroring his own. He isn't surprised
when they reach Lydia's house in record time, but the same can not be said when
he notices that Danny's car is the only one sat next to the redhead's in the
excessively large driveway. The absence of the other pack members' vehicles
feels ominous. The front door opens before he and Derek even exit the Camaro as
Lydia comes flying down the steps, wrapping him in a tight hug as soon as he
shuts the passenger door.
"Whoa! Lydia, what's going on?" Stiles chokes out, the force of the girl's hug
actually cutting off his oxygen supply. He notices that she has been crying
when she pulls back and mutters a feeble apology. By this time, Derek has made
his way around the car and is now stood behind the two, observing silently.
Lydia sniffles pathetically and wipes her nose with a tissue she pulls out of
her pocket. "Sorry... I'm just so glad you're back. We were so worried." She
doesn't offer a further explanation and just grabs both Stiles and Derek's
hands and drags them into her house, kicking the front door closed behind
herself with her foot. She leads both of her increasingly confused friends
straight up the stairs and into her bedroom. Inside, Danny and Isaac are sat
next to each other on the bed, their heads bent close together as they whisper
back and forth. "They're here!" she announces, knowing it's unnecessary since
her lycanthropic packmates would have heard the new arrivals pull up to the
house. Derek wasn't exactly quiet when he screeched to a stop outside.
When he sees how few of his betas are actually in the room, Derek frowns deeply
before turning back to Lydia. "Where is everyone else?" he demands, his
anxiousness making the words come out harsher than they ordinarily would. He
watches out of the corner of his eye as Stiles turns around the chair sitting
in front of Lydia's large vanity and drops down into it. He chooses to stay
standing. A faint trace of something foul reaches his nose, causing him to
scrunch up his face. He recognises the smell as belonging to Landon, increasing
his worries.
At Derek's question, Lydia sighs and moves to sit down beside Isaac on her bed.
"That's what I meant when I said everything has turned to shit on the phone
earlier..." she explains, crossing her legs and laying her clenched fists atop
them. "While you were gone, things started out fine; nothing happened at all
yesterday. I guess Landon was lulling us into a false sense of security. We got
sloppy earlier today or something, because the next thing we knew, he was
showing up left and right."
Isaac is the next person to speak. "It started out small. When me and Danny
went with Erica to pick up Boyd for school, we found that he wasn't there. His
parents said they hadn't seen him since yesterday morning and that worried us,
but they said it wasn't the first time something like that had happened so they
weren't too concerned. Then, when we were leaving, we caught wind of his scent
trail and followed it. It led us a few streets over and then just disappeared
in an alleyway, where there was a message painted on the wall."
Stiles holds his breath at this, thinking it sounds far too familiar. From the
expression on Derek's face, he figures the alpha is thinking along the same
lines.
"It said, 'HE WAS JUST THE FIRST'," Isaac continues. "Landon's stench was still
in the area, so it didn't take us long to put two and two together and figure
out that Boyd had been taken, too. We called up everyone else—including you and
Stiles, but your phones kept going straight to voicemail—and planned that none
of us would be going to school and that instead we'd all stick together here
until you got back."
"My mom has been visiting my aunt in the hospital all day, so she didn't know
anything about it," Lydia interjects.
Isaac nods at the redhead's contribution. "Anyway, several hours passed until
Landon showed up again. We could smell him outside, from every direction, and
when Scott looked out of the window he saw Boyd lying unconscious on Lydia's
back patio. Of course, the idiot immediately rushed out to help and since we
didn't want anything to happen to Scott either, we all went after him."
Stiles shakes his head in disappointment at the mention of Scott's impulsive
actions, the years of friendship he has with the other boy making him
intimately familiar with how well those actions tend to work out. He is
therefore not surprise at what Lydia has to say next.
"By the time we all got outside, Boyd was nowhere to be found and neither was
Scott. Before we could look for them or get back inside, Landon attacked us
all," Lydia says, staring down at her hands. "It was chaos. He kept
disappearing, and then he'd reappear behind one of us and grab us. I was only
able to drag Isaac and Danny back indoors by the time it was all over..."
"Wait..." Derek whispers, horrified. "Are you telling me that Landon managed to
get Boyd, Scott, Kira, Erica and Cora, all in one day?!" His voice increases in
volume with each word as his anger surges.
Before Derek can start raging, Stiles quickly hops up from his seat and shoves
the alpha down in it in his place. He climbs onto his lap and clamps a hand
over his mouth. "Hush, Sourwolf. I know it's bad—believe me, I do—but you can't
go flying off the handle now. That's probably just what Landon wants," he
theorises as Holly Thomas' words reenter his mind. "Now, are you going to
behave?"
Derek glares at the boy in his lap for a second before acquiescing with a roll
of his eyes.
Smiling slightly, Stiles removes his hand and pats Derek on the head. "Good
boy," he teases, hoping to diffuse some of the tension in the room. It doesn't
work. "We knew this was coming from what Holly told us yesterday, remember?
That he'd be taking you guys one by one until it's just me and you left?" He
glances sideways and notices the looks of confusion that are painted across
Danny, Isaac and Lydia's faces and hastens to explain. He recounts every detail
of what he and Derek had been told the day before during their two-day trip.
"So that's why Landon is here; he's after my new powers."
A look of comprehension appears on Lydia's face, the redhead having already
pieced everything together as Stiles knew she would.
"So, ever since he murdered Derek's uncle Jeremy, he's just been going around
the country and stealing unique powers from other people? God, what a sicko..."
Isaac say disparagingly, his disgust evident in his expression.
"Pretty much...and unless we can find a way to stop him now, he's going to take
you three next and then kill me," Stiles states, his rapid heartbeat allowing
the wolves in the room to easily see past his false bravado, telling them how
terrified he actually is.
Derek wraps his arms protectively around Stiles and buries his face in the
teen's neck. "He's not even going to get close. I'd never let him hurt you..."
he assures, nuzzling his nose against the expanse of bare skin. He promises to
himself that he will find a way to take down his uncle Landon before further
harm can come to any member of his pack, though he doesn't know how he is going
to accomplish the task; the last time he tried to stop Landon, he got his ass
handed to him. He contemplates other ways of taking the older man out but comes
up empty. This frustrates him, but he gets rid of the feeling by expelling a
puff of air through his nose, tickling Stiles and causing the teen to squeak.
He tightens his hold and bites his lip to hide his smile when Stiles starts
wriggling, trying to get away from the startling sensation.
Lydia watches this exchange in wonder. While she had believed and was happy
about the news that Derek and Stiles had finally gotten together when Danny and
Isaac told her the previous weekend, it's another thing entirely to actually
see the new couple interact with her own eyes. She didn't think it was possible
for Derek to act so open with another human being, given what she knows about
his past, and she marvels at how affectionate his actions are toward Stiles.
While she finds the whole thing unbearably adorable, the sight makes her miss
Jackson immensely. Only the fact that she would know if any one of her friends
was close to death—thanks to her powers as a banshee—gives her comfort and hope
that she'll be reunited with her boyfriend soon.
"Why didn't Landon just take us all today? He's clearly strong enough to take
us all out, so why is it taking so long?" Isaac asks, confused. "Don't get me
wrong; I'm relieved that I'm still here, but you have to admit it's a little
weird."
By this point, Stiles has calmed back down and is slumped backward, leaning his
head sideways to rest against Derek's, who still has his face buried in his
neck. "I don't know a lot about him, but from what Derek's told me, apparently
he and Peter used to be pretty close. So going off of that, it wouldn't
surprise me if he was toying with us, sitting back and enjoying watching us
squirm. He seems like he would be vindictive enough." He shudders.
"So, what are we going to do now?" Danny asks nervously. "We're kind of lacking
manpower here..." The thought of going up against Landon with so few people is
not one that settles well, especially since this is his first direct foray into
the negative aspects of existing within the supernatural world. He remembers
when he'd first found out about the secret that Jackson and Lydia had been
keeping from him for months. He'd been feeling left out, his two best friends
seeming to always be off doing their own things, leaving him on his own. While
he'd been relieved to finally be trusted, he was terrified when he was informed
of all the terrible things that had happened to the pack while he was unaware.
He was apprehensive about joining that madness, but the need to be close again
with his friends overshadowed his fear, the added incentive of gaining several
new ones helping matters along nicely.
"I say we all stick together as much as possible, even more than we did
before," Stiles suggests, tapping a finger on his knee in a made-up rhythm as
he thinks. "I think it would be a good idea if we all stayed 'round here
tonight...if that's alright with you, Lydia." He looks over at the girl in
hopes of her accepting and agreeing to his idea.
Lydia nods her head slowly, contemplating the logistics of such an arrangement.
"I think that'll be for the best... Now, my mom has already told me that she'll
be staying at the hospital all night and for most of the morning, so she
shouldn't be a problem. We should probably set up camp in the living room; it's
the biggest place, so we'd all be relatively comfortable there instead of
having to squash together in here. C'mon," she says, standing up and walking
over to the door, leading the others, "I'll get some sheets and spare pillows
from the linen closet so we can all sleep." When they're all stood in the
Martins' living room, Lydia dumps the blankets on one of the sofas and begins
divvying them up.
Derek shakes his head in disdain when he is handed a floral pink number. "Do
you guys do this stuff on purpose or something...?" he wonders aloud, setting
up his and Stiles' temporary bed on the widest of the sofas. A couple of
pillows shoved at one end completes it. He watches as the others copy his
actions, Isaac and Danny setting up camp on the other sofa while Lydia takes
the reclining chair.
"Should we go and get our stuff?" Stiles asks, picking at his nails and
desperately wanting to retrieve at least his toothbrush from his house. Though
he has done so several times in the past, he never feels comfortable going to
sleep without brushing his teeth beforehand.
"I suppose that'd be a good idea, too," Lydia admits, fluffing up her pillows.
Once everyone's sleeping arrangements are sorted, they pile into two
vehicles—Derek, Stiles and Lydia in the Camaro and Isaac and Danny in Danny's
car—and head back to Stiles' house. True to their plan of sticking close
together, they all go into the building so that Derek and Stiles can grab their
things. The two beta wolves wait downstairs while Lydia joins the new couple in
Stiles' bedroom.
"I meant to ask before, but why couldn't we get in touch with you sooner?"
Lydia asks, breaking the silence from where she leans against the doorframe.
Derek looks up from where he's stood in front of Stiles' dresser, gathering
clothes for the two of them. "I accidentally left my phone here, which is why I
couldn't call you before we got back. Stiles fell over back at Holly's place
and smashed his to pieces," he explains, pulling out one of the teen's shirts
and shaking his head at the emblem he sees printed on the front. He swears that
the vast majority of Stiles' shirts are emblazoned with ridiculous phrases and
quotes or superhero logos. That whole scene has never made sense to him, and
when they first met he found Stiles' obsession with it all to be annoying and
childish. Recently, however, he can't help but find the behaviour to be highly
endearing. He's so screwed.
"Yeah... My dad's going to be pissed. I literally just got that phone a couple
of weeks ago," Stiles says, wincing as he thinks about the telling off that is
no doubt in his future. He takes his clothes from Derek when the man holds them
out and stuffs them in his once-again empty backpack. It doesn't escape him
that the alpha has chosen one of the few plain shirts he owns. He laments for a
second about his becoming involved with someone with such poor taste, at least
when it comes to other people's clothes. As far as he's concerned, Derek does a
well enough job of dressing himself, especially nowadays when his shirts appear
to keep getting tighter and tighter. He doesn't know whether that's because
Derek is buying them in a smaller size or if it's a result of some extra muscle
on his already bulky frame. The latter option makes more sense, but he has
never once caught the man working out, a fact that disappoints him if he's
honest with himself.
Since their toiletries were never unpacked, Derek and Stiles don't have to
worry about gathering those things before they head back downstairs with Lydia
to rejoin Danny and Isaac. They find the two betas waiting sat together on the
sofa.
"Ready to go?" Danny asks, standing and pulling Isaac up with him. When the
others nod, he leads everyone outside, Stiles locking the front door behind
them. "Should we go to Scott's so Isaac can get his stuff first? Then we'll
swing by mine afterward?"
Soon enough, the group is headed in the direction of the McCall household.
Stiles is sitting in the passenger seat of Derek's Camaro again when a thought
hits him: now that Scott has been abducted, he wonders whether Melissa has been
informed or not. He hopes that she has so he doesn't have to be burdened with
the task of telling her, but given his track record in the luck department, all
signs say that he will. When the house comes into view, he follows the group
inside, seeing that the woman's car is parked in the driveway, indicating that
she's home. Sure enough, as soon as they come through the door she appears,
popping her head around the doorway that leads into the kitchen.
Melissa's welcoming expression quickly turns into one of confusion when she
sees the new guests in her home. When she'd heard the door open, she had
thought it was Scott finally getting home, late again. She sees the frightened
look on Stiles' face and instantly knows that something is wrong. Drying her
hands on the dishtowel she carries, she steps through into the hallway and
approaches the group still stood by the entrance. "What's going on? Where's
Scott?" she asks, hoping that her son is still coming and just got sidetracked
on his way there.
Derek, having sensed Stiles' anxiousness during the drive over and correctly
guessing its cause, speaks up before the teen can answer. "Melissa, I'm afraid
I have some bad news..." he begins, trying to phrase the recent events in the
way he thinks will lessen the blow the most. "Maybe we should sit down?" He
guides the older woman into the living room, feeling a little strange at doing
so when he's a guest in her home. He shrugs off the feeling, sitting opposite
her with Stiles next to him while Lydia, Danny and Isaac take up the other
seats. "Do you know about everything that's been going on for the past few
days?"
Nodding hesitantly, Melissa holds her breath as she waits to be told what she
suspects will be some terrible news regarding Scott. "Yeah, Scott told me last
Sunday about this Landon person coming after you guys," she says, remembering
the surprise and dismay she'd felt when she was told the information. She
figures that she'll just have to try and get used to her son being in near-
constant danger from now on now that he's a werewolf. The thought doesn't sit
right with her in the slightest.
"So you know that Allison and Jackson have already been taken?" Derek asks,
leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
"Of course. I called the school yesterday and today and told them they were
sick after Scott asked me to," Melissa says. She wasn't too fond of being made
to lie, but given the situation she had reluctantly agreed that having the law
involved in a supernatural matter probably wouldn't be a very good thing.
Derek nods and continues. "Well, I'm afraid that today, while Stiles and myself
were away gathering intel on Landon, he attacked again and abducted five more
members of the back. Scott was one of them."
Melissa's breath hitches and her eyes widen. Even though she had guessed this
was coming, actually hearing the words still comes as a shock. "Is...is he
going to be OK?" she asks warily.
Biting his lip in consternation, Derek thinks over what to say very carefully.
"Hopefully... We've been in dangerous situations like this before, like you
know, and I can promise you that I'm going to do everything in my power to get
every member of my pack home safe and sound," he attempts to assure, uncertain
of the merit of his words. "I don't think anything will actually happen, but
now that I think about it, Landon's whole plan is to get every member of the
pack out of the way so he can get to Stiles and steal his powers. I don't know
whether you're close enough to this whole thing to be a target of his—the fact
that you've been alright so far and that Chris wasn't taken at the same time as
Allison makes me think you're not—but it would probably be wise for you to be
cautious for the time being."
"I guess I can do that," Melissa consents, frowning slightly. She looks over at
the other occupants of the room and finally takes in that there aren't very
many people. "Is this all that's left?" She hopes she won't have to provide an
excuse for every single missing teenager. Even if she did, she doubts that her
word would hold up for long, thinking that their parents would obviously notice
their children's absence and understandably kick up a fuss, ruining their
cover.
Derek nods grimly, glancing around at the remaining four members of his pack.
"Yes. Before today, we had a system in place where everyone was split up into
pairs. They would stay together at all times, but since that didn't work to
stop Landon, we've decided to stick together entirely. We'll be staying at
Lydia's house tonight after Isaac gets his things." He looks at the beta in
question and raises his eyebrows pointedly.
Isaac nods at the obvious instruction and immediately stands and heads upstairs
to his room. He is quick to gather a clean set of clothes and his toothbrush
from the bathroom before returning to the others in the living room. When he
gets there, he sees that everyone is preparing to leave, bidding goodbye to
Melissa before they do so. Faintly, he hears Lydia providing some additional
comfort to the woman when they hug, muttering in her ear not to worry too much
as she would have felt if Scott were hurt. The information seems to relieve a
little bit of the tension in Melissa's body. Thinking that the small action is
such a nice thing to do, he can't help but cast his mind back to what little he
knew of Lydia before they became involved with Derek and the rest of the pack.
He's proud of how far the girl has come since then.
Danny's house is the last stop. He tells his parents that he'll be staying
around Lydia's for the night and his good reputation allows them to easily
accept the excuse. Lydia is the only one to go inside with him, her reasoning
being that it would look suspicious if Danny's parents saw them all together,
especially with Derek, given his age. Soon enough, they arrive back at Lydia's
house and trudge inside, the redhead locking the door behind herself and
activating the alarm system. They take turns getting ready to sleep in the
house's two large bathrooms and, before too long, they're all settling in for
the night.
"I think it would probably be a good idea if someone was awake at all times,
just in case," Derek suggests, lying down on his back on the wider-than-average
sofa. The cushions are large and comfortable, a far cry from the cheap, lumpy
ones he has slept on in the past. "I'll take the first watch and wake someone
up in a few hours. Who wants to go second?" He shuffles sideways slightly
toward the edge so that Stiles has more room to fit in next to him.
"I don't mind missing a few hours," Isaac volunteers, fitting his head snugly
against Danny's shoulder.
Plan made, silence falls over the room as one by one the teens drop off to
sleep. Before he succumbs to the darkness, Stiles shifts closer to Derek so
that he's practically lying half on top of the alpha, wrapping his right arm
around the man's waist.
***** Discipline *****
- Wednesday, January 18th, 2012 -
The first thing Erica is aware of is the pounding in her head. She winces in
pain before blinking open her eyes and inspecting her surroundings. A quick
survey reveals the room to be dark, dusty and wet. Several sets of rusted metal
shelves are spaced throughout, each containing a wide variety of strange jars
and boxes of things she doesn't recognise. There is a large square where the
floor is discoloured, almost as if something used to stand there but was
recently moved. A set of stairs is set into the wall to her left. With nothing
in immediate sight to inform her of where she is, she tries to move and finds
that she can't; her hands are bound above her head and when she pays closer
attention, the tinging in her wrists clues her in to the wolfsbane that's
embedded in the thick chains. Panicked, she tries again to pull herself free
and only exacerbates the pain in both her wrists and her head, causing her to
cry out.
"That's not going to work, so you might as well just stop trying."
The voice startles Erica into ceasing her efforts. She looks around the dark
room and finds its source is sitting across from her in the same predicament.
The smile Jackson sends her is more of a grimace. She wonders if he's been
trapped down here the entire time he's been missing. From how rough he looks,
she guesses that is the case. "Jackson? Where the hell are we?" she asks, her
voice a whisper. She stretches her legs out in front of herself and immediately
lets out a small sigh of relief when the action alleviates the cramping of her
thigh muscles.
"I have no idea," Jackson says irritably, bumping his head back against the
wall. "All I know is I was chasing that thing in the preserve after getting
Lydia's shopping. I found it. It played with me for a bit before paralysing me
and dumping me here. Did you know it can apparently make itself incorporeal?"
He curses his stupidity at going off alone, thinking that he should have known
better. It's not the first time his bullheadedness has gotten him into a sticky
situation, but it is the first time when the consequences of his actions are
actually making him consider working to change that behaviour. Days without any
food and water will do that to a person, he supposes.
Several pained moans sound throughout the room. Erica looks around more closely
and sees that within the shadows are more of her packmates. Scott and Allison
are on her left, while Kira, Boyd and Cora are on her right. Stiles' dad is in
the corner next to Jackson. She wonders for a moment why she didn't smell them
or hear their heartbeats or breathing, but then she remembers that the
wolfsbane around her wrists dampens her senses as well as her strength. Several
sets of eyes blink open sluggishly as most of them start to wake up. Both she
and Jackson watch as they go through the same process of trying to free
themselves.
"Welcome to the party," Jackson says in a bored tone, making the newcomers jump
and causing them to all turn in his direction. He rolls his eyes with so much
force it looks almost painful.
Scott looks around the room with wide eyes. "Where the hell are we?!" he
demands angrily, upset at having been bested so easily. He hadn't exactly
expected to come away from the fight victorious, given how well other pack
members' encounters with Landon have gone in the past, but he was hoping to at
least have walked away without anyone else being taken.
"I've already been over this with Erica... I'm not repeating myself for your
benefit," Jackson snipes, shifting uncomfortably in place. His ass has been
numb since the first hour after he was brought to their mysterious prison.
Erica notices that Allison and the sheriff have yet to wake up, which she finds
strange, especially for the sheriff as he's been gone for just as long as
Jackson. "Why aren't those two waking up?" she asks, watching as Scott
stretches his leg sideways and pokes Allison with his shoe. The fact that the
two humans are restrained with simple ropes instead of chains doesn't escape
her notice.
"I don't know that either," Jackson says, looking between the two. "I have a
theory, though: maybe whatever that thing did to us is just taking longer to
wear off for them since they're human?" He remembers his surprise when, after
his abductor had dumped him there and disappeared again, it had returned
shortly afterward carrying Stiles' father. He had spent an embarrassingly long
time trying to rouse the man with no success, thinking childishly that he'd
feel slightly better if his adult companion were actually cognisant.
Cora screams with frustration. "I'm going to kill Landon!" she yells, again
tugging in vain at her restraints.
Jackson frowns. "Who's Landon?" he asks, confused. The name doesn't ring a
bell.
After her efforts only help to increase the soreness of her wrists, Cora slumps
back against the wall, giving up. "Mine and Derek's uncle," she explains,
turning her eyes from the miscellanea that sits on the shelves in the room to
look at Jackson. She snorts when she sees his expression become even more
baffled. "Yeah, apparently we had two adoptive uncles that were twins. I don't
remember much at all about living here before the fire so I didn't know about
either of them, and Derek had his memories erased. One of them killed the other
for their powers and became evil, yada yada yada, and basically, he's the one
that's after us. Probably for revenge or something, I don't know..."
Erica sees the surprise on Jackson's face as he takes this new information in.
"Yeah, a lot has happened while you've been gone, Jackie boy," she teases,
shaking her head to the side to get her messy hair out of her face. Her blonde
curls are completely destroyed and her clothes still feel slightly damp from
when she'd fallen in Lydia's pool during the fight. "I wonder if Derek and
Stiles are back yet... They went to go see some friend of Deaton's whose pack
was also attacked by Landon. They were supposed to get back today."
"They're probably with Lydia, Danny and Isaac right now," Kira muses. She knows
they're likely to stick to their original plan of staying in one group. Even
though it didn't seem to help anything, it's still a better plan than being
alone.
The silence that falls over the room is interrupted by the sound of shifting
stone coming from above. The deep groans that vibrate through the walls to the
floor put every beta on edge. Things go quiet for a second before footsteps can
be heard coming down the worn, concrete stairs. Whoever the newcomer is, they
stay hidden in the shadows at the bottom step and, no matter how hard the
room's occupants try to see through the darkness for any sort of indicator to
tell them who it is, they cannot make out anything other than a blurry shape in
the centre where the darkness gets just a little bit darker. A deep chuckle
comes from the shadows, sending shivers up everyone's spines.
"I see you're all enjoying yourselves," a voice says, lilting with sadistic
mirth.
The wolves instantly recognise the voice, having each heard it at least a
couple of times in the past week. Just as they all figure out who the stranger
is, the silhouette steps forward into the light cast by the lone, dusty bulb
swinging slowly from a frayed cord in the ceiling. Every pair of eyes widens as
they take in the person standing before them. Landon looks different from the
other times they've seen him. Gone are the black mist and the stench that have
constantly surrounded him, revealing what would otherwise be a very handsome
man if it weren't for the various traces of old injuries that can be seen
across his skin. He is dressed in pressed, black trousers and an overly tight,
navy blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The smart
attire is a stark contrast to the rest of him.
Erica and Scott—the two closest to him—recoil in horror when they take in the
state of his pale skin.
From Derek's memories, everybody apart from Jackson already knew of the scars
that Landon had inflicted upon himself years ago, but seeing the messy, jagged
lines in real life is still shocking and nauseating to all of them. Long, black
roots are showing through Landon's cropped, bleached-white hair and dark
stubble is starting to grow in along his jaw. The lobe of his left ear is
missing, almost as if an earring was once there that was roughly torn off. Dark
shadows surround his eyes, which themselves hold such cruelty in their depths
that they make each pack member shrink back even more when the blue orbs are
directed at each of them in turn. His face breaks out into a terrifying grin
and he licks his lips as if he's looking at a delectable meal.
"I hope you're all comfortable. If you're not, please do tell me so I can make
other...arrangements," Landon says sarcastically, folding his arms across his
chest in an intimidating stance. When no one says a word in response, his grin
widens even further and steps around the room, inspecting everybody's
restraints. Cora kicks out at him when he comes around to her. The defencive
gesture knocks the happy expression off of Landon's face before he treads
purposefully on her shins, causing her to cry out. He bends down and yanks her
head back by her hair so their eyes meet. "Now, now, don't be so rude! It's not
very nice to treat your host so harshly when they've been nothing but courteous
to you."
Landon doesn't release Cora until she looks away in defeat. "That's better," he
says before checking the cuffs around her wrists. When he gets to Allison and
Stiles' dad, he tuts in disappointment before performing the same checks. "I
really didn't think I knocked you two out that badly, but apparently I need to
learn to control myself better... Poor little humans..."
Erica, getting bored of the proceedings and gathering her nerve, clears her
throat before breaking the silence. "Why the hell are you doing this to us?"
she demands, her faked bravery failing to mask the slight quiver in her voice.
Every pair of eyes in the room turns to look in her direction, and she gulps
when Landon moves to stand in front of her. He watches her for a minute, his
body unmoving. His chest doesn't even seem to rise and fall with his breathing
and she doesn't see him blink once.
"I would've thought it obvious," Landon says eventually, having had his fill of
watching Erica squirm under his unflinching gaze. "From what Peter has told me,
I figured you were all smart enough to put it together. But I guess he
overestimated you... How disheartening. Then again, you do have Derek for an
alpha, so I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more." He shakes his head
condescendingly.
Every awake head in the room perks up at the new information Landon let slip in
his criticisms.
"Wait a minute... You've been speaking to Peter?" Erica asks, disbelief clear
in her voice. A quick glance at her friends' faces tells her they share similar
feelings of confusion and, strangely, betrayal.
Landon chuckles in amusement. "But of course. He got in contact with me just a
few days ago, spouting off some story about forgotten memories and our wretched
sister, Talia... We had quite a lot of catching up to do," he explains,
remembering his surprise at finding out his favourite relative is alive and
well and not still lying comatose in a hospital bed at Beacon Hills Memorial.
"Apparently, when my dear nephew wanted to have his memories of me and my
brother removed—and seriously, how pathetic is that?—Peter kicked up quite the
fuss about it all, which forced Talia to remove his memories of me as well. But
apparently she didn't do that thorough of a job."
Realisation dawns clearly on Erica's face. "So that's why Peter stole Talia's
claws from Derek's loft... He wanted to remember everything about you," she
whispers, effectively filling in everyone else in the room who hadn't already
reached the same conclusion.
"Right you are!" Landon exclaims excitedly, his delight evident in both his
jubilant tone and his wide, toothy smile. "I knew you had it in you. I'll have
to tell Peter that he was wrong about you lot."
Erica looks affronted at this, not liking in the slightest the implication that
she isn't intelligent. "Yeah, well...Peter's an ass, so you should take
everything he says with a grain of salt..." she mutters petulantly, leaning her
head against her arm tiredly.
Landon tuts disparagingly. "Oh dear, let's not start with the insults. I think
that's beneath us, don't you? Besides, I've found Peter to be quite an asset in
my acquisition of you all. He's certainly been forthcoming with all the
information I've needed to get the biggest reactions. It's been a lot of fun, I
must say. And let me tell you, Peter's ass is one of the best things about the
man." He gets a pleased, far-away look in his eyes at the last part that
disgusts everybody who can see his expression.
Cora makes overly-dramatic retching sounds at Landon's words, causing a tiny
smile to form on Jackson and Scott's faces.
The reaction snaps Landon out of his reverie. He turns and walks over to Cora
before backhanding her across the face. "You're going to be a troublesome one,
aren't you? It's lucky for you that I like my victims feisty. It gives me more
excuses to punish them when they misbehave." The other betas all growl
threateningly at this, causing him to chuckle darkly. "Oh, don't the rest of
you worry. I'm sure there's plenty of me to go around."
Rubbing her cheek gently against the soft cotton of her sleeve, Cora is
extraordinarily grateful when Landon steps away from her again.
"Why are we even here?" Jackson asks forlornly, thumping his head back against
the wall several times in frustration. "Seriously, why not just kill us and get
it over with?" He has the decency to look ashamed when the other betas all turn
angry eyes in his direction. "I'm not saying I want it to happen! It just seems
a bit weird."
Landon turns to face Jackson and purses his lips, contemplating whether or not
to offer an answer. "It's because it makes those of you that I haven't yet
taken fight that much harder to get you back. If they knew you were dead—and I
know they would; Peter has informed me that the stunning redhead that always
seems to be hanging off of your shoulders is a banshee—then they would get
sloppy and just come after me without thinking. That would be a shame, as I do
like a challenge."
Every chained occupant of the room stares up at Landon incredulously, all
noting the similarities in the way he and Peter talk. As they all contemplate
this new information, they watch as Landon wanders seemingly aimlessly between
the rows of shelves, picking jars and boxes up at random and inspecting their
contents. He makes contrasting little noises in the back of his throat whenever
he comes across something he finds amusing or unimpressive. When he gets to a
large, blank cardboard box, he pulls it off of the shelf and sets it on the
dust- and dirt-covered ground before flipping open its lid. Everyone watches
with a mixture of apprehension and interest as he pulls out file after file of
papers. They jump when Landon makes a loud noise of triumph after pulling out a
bright red folder. Black writing is scrawled across the front, but no one can
read it from their different angles sat against the walls.
"Just what I was looking for..." Landon mutters to himself, seeming to have
temporarily forgotten the presence of the teenagers in the room with him. He
flips open the folder and spills the many papers held within onto the floor,
spreading them around roughly with his hands. Picking out several sheets, he
leaves the rest where they are as he stands once more with a malicious smirk
painted across his face. The expression sets everybody else even more on edge.
"What is that?" Scott asks nervously. When Landon's eyes whip over to meet his,
he is immediately unsure about whether asking the man a question when he has
such an intimidating look on his face is such a good idea.
Landon winks at Scott in an almost seductive manner. "Shh, it's a secret," he
whispers creepily before going back to inspecting the papers in his hands. He
nods along with what he reads, obviously pleased with his findings. When he
finishes looking through the last page he folds the sheets up into a small
rectangle that he tucks safely in the pocket of his trousers. "Well, this has
been fun, kiddies! But I really must get going; places to be, people to
see...you know how it is. I'll make sure to give the rest of your friends your
regards." With an overly-professional wave he walks out of the room and heads
back up the stairs.
The sound of shifting stone can be heard once more as the pack are sealed again
inside their prison. Everyone breathes out sighs of relief now that their
captor is no longer around to antagonise them.
"Well that was creepy as fuck," Jackson says, breaking the tense silence. He
tilts his head back and stares up at the flickering bulb that still swings from
the ceiling. He wonders not for the first time why the thing is always in
motion. It's a pointless endeavour as he always comes up with the same answer
of the old room having a draft seeping in somewhere, but it keeps his mind
occupied nevertheless. He hears his packmates murmur their agreement.
"Seriously... I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone that made me feel as
uncomfortable as Peter, but I actually think that Landon is worse!" Cora
exclaims, glad that her memories of her adoptive uncle are nonexistent. She
wishes she still remembered Jeremy, however, since she thinks he seemed like a
pretty cool guy from what little she has heard about him.
"I hear that..." Erica sighs, craning her head around as far as she can get it
in an effort to snatch a glimpse of the papers Landon left scattered on the
floor in the centre of the room. She grunts in disappointment when she fails to
make out even one word. "I really hope we can figure out a way to get out of
here soon, because if that bastard lays even one hand on my Batman, I'm gonna
kill him!" She yanks for a third time at the cuffs around her wrists, not
stopping until they are left cut up and bloody. Of course, because of the
wolfsbane embedded into the metal, the injuries don't immediately heal and she
is left sitting there feeling the blood slowly drip down her arms, staining the
short sleeves of her white shirt.
"Erica!" Boyd yells, getting the girl's attention. Everyone else also looks in
his direction, shocked at hearing the usually taciturn beta raise his voice.
"You should stop that. Hurting yourself isn't going to help anyone right
now..." His worries for his girlfriend are eased when she listens to his words
and slumps back in defeat.
Kira sees the interaction and smiles sadly. "I'm sure they'll be fine, Erica.
Stiles and Lydia are two of the smartest people I've ever met, so I know they
can come up something if they work hard enough," she offers, wanting to give
some form of comfort to her friend herself.
"Yeah. Plus, Stiles has more to fight for now that he and Derek are finally
together," Scott interjects, instantly backtracking when he thinks back over
his words. "Not that we wouldn't be enough for him to fight his hardest anyway!
It's just that his new thing with Derek should give him some more fire." He
laughs to himself when he realises the pun he just inadvertently made. He
coughs awkwardly when he sees that everyone is staring at him with looks of
exasperation on their faces, the tanned skin of his own face quickly turning
red with embarrassment.
Jackson does a double take when he registers the meaning of Scott's words.
"Wait a minute...Stiles and Derek are together? As in together, together?" he
asks, shocked when the other wolves in the room all nod their heads in unison.
"Yup," Cora says, a smile making its way onto her face as she remembers how
happy she'd been for her brother when she'd been told the news. While she was
unsure what to make of Stiles when they'd first met, she knows now that the two
are a good fit. "That's just one more thing you've missed since you've been
gone."
Shrugging, Jackson accepts this new revelation easily. His dislike for Stiles
has lessened in recent months to a point where he is relatively happy to hear
of the boy's new relationship with their alpha. He thinks to himself that he
will probably end up causing a lot of trouble if the other teen thinks he can
suddenly start bossing them all around, though. It wouldn't surprise him.
Scott peers sadly over at Allison, who is still sitting knocked out a few feet
away. "I wonder when she'll wake up..." he says despondently, frowning.
Almost as if she heard Scott talking about her, Allison begins to stir as soon
as the beta trails off. A groan of pain escapes her mouth and she rolls her
head in a circle in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort in her tense neck.
Blinking slowly at her surroundings, she snaps into full consciousness when she
notices the predicament she is now in. "What the hell...?" she says unsurely,
examining the ropes that bind her to the iron rings screwed into the wall above
her head. Her mind is fuzzy from being out for so long and it takes her a few
seconds to remember the events that led up to her awakening; the break-in at
her apartment, her dad trying to defend them both and failing, her own attempts
proving to be just as useless.
"Allison?" Scott asks, concerned when he sees just how long it's taking the
girl to regain the use of all her faculties.
Hearing her name being called, Allison looks to her right and is both glad and
dismayed to Scott sat next to her. "Scott?" she asks warily, staring at the boy
unblinkingly for a second before looking around hastily and finally noticing
just how many members of the pack are in the room with them. She is surprised
to see Stiles' dad is there as well. "What's going on...?" Her voice shakes.
When she is filled in on the things she missed, she is surprised when she
realises just how much time has been lost. Her concern is lessened slightly by
the presence of both Scott and Kira, but the fact that they have been captured,
too, still unsettles her. After she has put all the pieces of the puzzle
together in her mind, she inclines her head in the direction of the still-
unconscious man slumped over in the corner next to herself. "What about him?"
"Given that it took you until now to wake up again, I'd say that Stiles' dad
will probably be out for at least a couple more days," Jackson muses.
"Does he know what's going on at all?" Allison asks, wondering how Stiles is
dealing with his last remaining family member being missing.
Scott shakes his head. "I don't think Stiles got a chance to tell him before he
was taken," he states. He knows that his best friend has been relatively happy
now that his dad is aware of the supernatural goings on that take place in
Beacon Hills, but he suspects that Stiles may have been tempted to slip back
into their old habit of foolishly lying to his dad to protect him. Sure,
Stiles' reasoning that he is protecting the man is relatively sound, but Scott
can't help but think that the man might not have been put in this position had
he been made aware of their current threat beforehand.
"Can't anyone get free?" Allison asks, tugging at her restraints ineffectually.
The knots around her wrists are tied so tightly that there is no wiggle room
whatsoever. She stops trying when everyone gives their negatives.
With nothing to do but sit and wait, the captured pack members attempt not to
let the cloud of dread that threatens to drown them get a firm grasp. They fill
the overbearing silence with meaningless chatter about anything and everything
to try and pass the time. Eventually, though, they succumb to the darkness of
sleep one by one, each too tired to keep blinking their eyes open again when
they close seemingly of their own accord every few seconds.
Jackson is soon the only one left awake, much to his dismay, the pain in his
wrists from his restraints and the numbness of his lower body stopping him from
joining his friends in slumber. "Fucking fantastic..." he mutters to himself,
banging his head against the wall again.
                                     * * *
When Derek wakes up, he finds that it's early in the morning. The only other
person still in Lydia's living room is Stiles, who has apparently remained
spread out atop him the entirety of the night. Small beads of sweat are
breaking out on the teen's forehead, which—when combined with the red flush of
his cheeks—tells Derek that his bedmate must be far too hot, having slept in a
shirt again like he did during their first night together. Sunlight is
beginning to show through the thick curtains that hang in front of the room's
large window. The sound of clanking cutlery coming from the direction of the
kitchen catches his attention. He slides carefully out from underneath Stiles
so he can go and investigate, leaving the blankets in a ball at the end of the
sofa to give the teen a chance to cool down somewhat.
The first thing Derek sees when he shuffles through to the Martins' extravagant
kitchen is that his two remaining betas are sat close together on stools around
the island. Isaac looks close to falling back to sleep, his body slumped
sideways so that his head rests against Danny's shoulder. A bowl of cereal sits
in front of the curly-haired teen, untouched, and Derek assumes that the reason
Isaac still seems so worn out is because he had ended up volunteering himself
for the majority of the shifts to keep watch during the night. Danny looks to
be far more alert, shovelling his breakfast into his mouth with gusto and
looking everything like the stereotypical stepford husband with the day's
newspaper clutched in his other hand. The Hawaiian teen offers him a small wave
as he steps fully into the room, spoon still in hand. A few stray droplets of
milk end up flying across the kitchen with the gesture.
Lydia stands at the counter, fiddling with something Derek cannot see. Her
frustrated grunting allows him to figure out that whatever she is doing isn't
going the way she wants. She is still dressed in her pyjamas, with her hair
tied up in a messy bun atop her head that wiggles about funnily with every
movement. He steps over to offer his assistance. "Can I help?" he asks, making
the girl jump. Now that he's close enough, he sees that a new-looking toaster
is what is giving her trouble. A knife is wedged inside one of the slots and he
panics for a second before noticing that the utensil is made of plastic and not
metal. The plug is also switched off.
"I doubt it," Lydia mutters, continuing to jiggle the knife back and forth. "I
was going to make myself some toast but this heap of junk refuses to work... I
swear this thing was not worth what we paid for it." When a few more seconds of
toying yields no results, she throws her hands up in defeat and slides the
toaster off of the countertop and into the bin, mumbling to herself about how
she'll never again be leaving the task of purchasing kitchen appliances to her
know-nothing mother as she does so. She waves off Derek's wide-eyed staring.
Derek watches as Lydia proceeds to get herself a bowl of cereal instead before
she joins her packmates around the island. It's then that he notices he still
doesn't have a shirt on and, feeling slightly awkward standing around a bunch
of teenagers in nothing but a pair of threadbare sweatpants, he makes a quick
detour back into the living room and puts one on. Stiles is still out cold on
the sofa. The sight brings a fond smile to his lips. Figuring that he might as
well follow Lydia's lead, he takes the stool next to the redhead with his own
bowl, cautious, not wanting to do anything to set her off again.
"Where's Stiles?" Danny asks eventually, breaking the relative silence that has
fallen over the room. The hyperactive teen's absence is conspicuous.
"I left him to sleep some more," Derek answers, consuming his food with
disinterest. He wonders what the day will entail the whole time, contemplating
whether or not it would be worth attempting to search for his missing betas
again, to see if they can think of anywhere they might have overlooked or
missed the last time. He's at a loss, however, finding himself unable to come
up with any place he didn't scour on his first pass through the town and
preserve. He supposes it's possible that his betas could be being kept
somewhere he couldn't easily gain access to, but the theory seems unlikely
because each of those places would be frequented by civilians who would notice
if something were amiss. He just hopes they're OK and are holding up under the
stress the situation would no doubt put on their shoulders.
"Are we going to school today?" Isaac says sleepily, finally waking fully and
sitting up straight. He stares down at his now-soggy bowl of Cornflakes and
wonders how they got there before shrugging and eating them.
Lydia shakes her head in response. "I don't think that would be a good idea,"
she states, finishing off her breakfast and putting the bowl straight in the
dishwasher. "Yes, we probably should go to keep up appearances, but I know I'd
be too anxious to focus on anything when I could be of more help here with the
rest of you guys."
"So does that mean we're getting Melissa's help again, or...?" Danny trails
off, unsure about putting the woman in the same position for yet another day,
especially now that there are even more absences to explain. He sighs and goes
along with it, though, when Lydia nods. "Excellent... So what are we going to
be doing instead?" He doesn't like the thought of just sitting around all day,
waiting to be taken or killed by Landon.
Derek, having finished his own breakfast, puts his bowl next to Lydia's in the
dishwasher. "There's not much we can do right now other than train, I guess,"
he says, irritated. "I think it would probably be useful if Stiles works more
on controlling his powers. He seems to have some command of them at the moment,
but there's always room for improvement. Seeing as he's the one Landon is
after, who knows, there might be something Stiles can do to stop him." He feels
like he's just pulling theories out of his ass, but at this point he'll take
anything. If Landon's plan is to make him as desperate as he can be, then he
figures his uncle is succeeding. Leaving the three teenagers in the kitchen, he
heads back through to the living room, intent on finally waking Stiles. He
finds the teen sprawled on his front with his face buried in the pillow and
honestly worries for a second that he might end up accidentally suffocating
himself.
Crouching down on the carpeted floor next to the sofa, Derek reaches out a hand
and shakes Stiles' shoulder lightly. "Stiles?" he whispers, hoping to rouse the
teen gently instead of startling him into wakefulness. The latter option is
likely to end with him getting punched in the face by a flailing hand. He is
pleased when he succeeds in his mission, Stiles groaning heavily into the
pillow before turning his head sideways and blinking confusedly up at him with
the amber eye not still hidden in the pillow.
"'S goin' on?" Stiles croaks out, his voice hoarse from sleep.
"It's time for you to get up," Derek says simply, still having not taken his
hand back. He runs it down along Stiles' bare arm instead, sending shivers down
the teen's spine. "You're not going to school today either. Instead, we're
going to do some more training." He leans back when Stiles levers himself up on
his arms into a sitting position, watching as the younger man rubs the sleep
from his eyes. The fabric of the sheets is imprinted on Stiles' cheek and the
collar of his shirt is stretched larger than it should be from wear, revealing
his prominent collarbone.
Stiles shuffles sideways off of the sofa and, after taking Derek's offered
hand, gets clumsily to his feet. "Sounds like a plan to me..." he rasps before
yawning, bringing his hands high above his head in a long stretch and twisting
slightly from side to side to crack his tense back. The action causes his shirt
to ride up, revealing the trail of dark hair that leads down below the
waistband of his boxer shorts. He catches Derek staring dumbly at his stomach
when he opens his eyes again and smiles smugly, patting the alpha a couple of
times on his shoulder before heading into the kitchen. He finds the other three
teens still gathered around the island and makes to join them, noticing with
delight and gratitude that a bowl of cereal has already been set out for him,
complete with spoon. Lydia winks at him when their eyes meet and he thanks the
girl for her thoughtfulness before digging in.
Derek, having gathered himself again, reenters the kitchen a minute later and
is happy to find that Stiles has essentially demolished his breakfast already.
"We should probably use the catacombs under the old Hale house again to train
today," he suggests, taking the stool beside Stiles. "I would say that we use
the preserve like we normally do, but it'll probably be better if there isn't
much around nearby that Stiles can accidentally set on fire..." He smiles when
the boy in question splutters indignantly, spraying milk across the countertop.
Lydia sighs, resigned, and rips off several paper towels before handing them to
Stiles so he can clean the mess he made. She raises a judging eyebrow in his
direction when he holds out the soiled tissue for her to take, refusing his
request to put them in the bin and making him do it himself. "Boys..." she
mutters under her breath, not seeming embarrassed in the slightest when her
words make her the recipient of four equally offended glares. "Well, prove me
wrong, then!"
Shaking his head, Stiles puts his now-empty bowl into the dishwasher beside the
other two already in there when Lydia instructs him to do so. He collects the
set of clothes Derek had chosen for him the previous day from where he'd set
them down in his bag in the living room and heads upstairs to the larger of the
house's two bathrooms. He is quick to get himself prepared for the day and,
when he exits the room again, he finds Isaac stood outside waiting for his
turn. He ruffles the beta's hair on his way past, making the taller teen
squawk, affronted, and curl his arms around his head defensively. The loud
noise startles a laugh out of him and, after he is able to calm himself down
again, he hears the tail end of what he assumes is Derek's laughter coming from
downstairs.
It's another half hour before everybody is ready, most of which sees the four
boys sat bored out of their minds in the living room while they wait for Lydia
to finish fixing her hair. Derek and Stiles take the alpha's Camaro, as
expected, with the other three trailing along behind. A quick detour is made
over to the apartment building in which Allison usually resides. Once they get
there, Derek explains to Chris about their plan to train and requests to borrow
some simple weaponry. Shortly afterward, they are provided with an array of
sharp knives and two small handguns from Allison's extensive collection, with
which Lydia will practice her combat skills. The ex-hunter makes an offer to
help train the girl, but this is quickly declined, Derek not wanting to bring
anyone else into the whole mess.
When he pulls his car up outside of their destination, Derek is surprised to
see that one of the outer walls of the old Hale house has collapsed inwards.
The rest of the structure still stands, though it looks like it might go at any
moment. He is thankful that he is no longer squatting in the abandoned
building, because if he was it would've been likely for him to have been
crushed underneath the rubble, the wall that has finally given up the ghost
being the one beside which he used to sleep. This provides another sign that
it's probably the right time to just demolish the place already and get it over
with. He knew the building was an eyesore even before this newest development,
if he's honest with himself. It's just difficult to let go. Exiting the vehicle
through the driver's side door, he slams it shut and immediately makes his way
around to the trunk, flipping it open and pulling out the nearly full gas can
he had gotten after his last trip to the catacombs beneath the old house. He
also gets out the bag of weapons they borrowed from Chris.
Stiles gives Derek a relieved smile when he notices what the alpha now has in
his hand, happy that he won't have to deal with the oppressing darkness or
flickering lights that had freaked him out so much during their first training
session in the underground maze through which they're once again headed. Danny,
Isaac and Lydia are quick to join himself and Derek, the two boys looking
around curiously, having never been there long enough to take everything in
properly. He sees that Lydia looks to be verging on boredom, flattening down
the hairs on her head that the wind had blown out of place, so he nudges Derek
forward with his shoulder and silently urges him to lead the way down the steps
again.
The entrance to the catacombs is overgrown with plants and weeds and the heavy,
metal door makes a hellish noise as Derek swings it open. The thing looks about
ready to fall off of its rusted hinges and Stiles looks at it warily as he
passes through the doorframe, a little afraid that it might break off and fall
on him, crushing him. That would be just like his luck. Descending the stone
steps, he watches as Derek pauses beside the old generator that sits hidden in
a small alcove near the entrance and unscrews the cap on the gas can in his
hand. The place is just as cold as he remembers it being, and he wraps his arms
around his torso to ward off the freezing air. He is infinitely grateful that
Derek had handed off his leather jacket to him on their way out of Lydia's
house earlier, the thick garment helping to keep him moderately comfortable.
It's an improvement on the last time he was there, at least, though the fact
that there is now no light at all, flickering or otherwise, is not.
Once all of the gas has been poured into the generator, Derek flips the switch
and brings the thing roaring to life. Almost immediately, the bulbs that line
the walls near the ceiling stutter on, casting light over the group. Danny and
Isaac, having never been down there during their fleeting trips to the Hale
house in the past, both start inspecting everything in sight. Derek shakes his
head in exasperation at their actions and ushers the two inquisitive betas
onwards with a hand on the small of their backs.
The journey to the training room is this time a relatively short one, thanks to
the lighthearted conversation that Danny and Isaac provide. Derek remains
silent at the head of the group, but he listens to every word attentively and
is amused when he hears the easy banter shared between Lydia and Danny that is
brought about by years of close friendship.
"Here we are," Derek says finally as he steps around a corner and enters the
dimly-lit room in which Stiles had gotten tenuous control of his powers,
cutting off his companions' chattering.
"Creepy..." Isaac comments, eyeing the old sofa that still sits against the far
wall with a look of disgust similar to the one Lydia had sent its way just a
few days before. He knows that if he were to take a seat on it he would
instantly be enveloped in a cloud of dust that would leave him coughing and
spluttering for several minutes.
Derek nods his head slightly in agreement. "It didn't used to be so bad back
when it was still seeing regular use...though I guess the same can be said for
the majority of this place," he says, his voice tinged slightly with the
sadness that always grips him when memories of his dead family enter his mind.
He shakes the depressing thoughts from his head and pulls one of the boxes that
sit against the wall next to the sofa to stand in the centre of the room,
setting down the heavy bag of weapons atop it. Unzipping the bag, he pulls out
most of the knives and one of the guns and arranges them neatly in a line along
the edge of the box. "Lydia?" he calls, grabbing the girl's attention and
gesturing for her to come over.
Lydia runs a critical eye over the display. Her gaze lingers for a second on
one of the ring daggers she sees Allison use so often, but she decides against
using it herself. She ends up choosing a long, thin blade with a serrated edge.
Picking it up, she inspects it closely, turning it over in her hands to make
one-hundred percent sure that she's happy with her selection. "I think this is
the one," she says, already liking the feel of it in her hand. It's been on her
mind for a while now that she should probably learn some form of self-defence,
seeing as her life seems to be in danger alarmingly frequently nowadays.
Leaving the rest of the weapons out to try later, Derek turns to Danny and
Isaac, who are both stood a couple of feet away watching the proceedings.
Stiles is standing behind them, staring at the burned paper target he hit
before that still lies on the floor a short distance away. "OK then... Why
don't you three practice something together, some light combat, and Stiles can
try to hit a moving target." The choice not to pair himself with Stiles is a
deliberate one, his aversion to fire making him unwilling to put himself
unnecessarily in its path in any way.
Both of the betas' eyes widen at this, obviously neither liking the prospect of
getting hit with a fireball either.
Derek sighs at the reaction. "With these, you idiots..." he says, his amusement
bringing forth a smile as he holds up the pile of old, dusty blankets that has
been down there for God knows how long, one of which Lydia chose to sit on
during her first visit. "Just ball them up and throw them for Stiles to aim
at." Relief appears on both of Danny and Isaac's faces. "Also, when you're
going over hand-to-hand techniques, I think it would be best if Isaac takes the
lead there since he's been learning a more defencive style that I think
Stiles'll take to more easily. He doesn't have the physical strength for the
offencive styles I've been teaching you, Danny."
Danny and Isaac drag Stiles off to one of the corners of the room and begin
showing him some basic fighting stances and moves. The human teen is
essentially a beginner, as Derek hadn't had the heart to put him through his
paces before now during their weekly training sessions, especially when he
seemed so depressed.
After watching the trio work for a few seconds, Derek turns to face Lydia again
and finds the girl watching him with an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on
her lips. She wisely chooses not to say anything and instead holds up the knife
again, flipping it around in her hand in a surprisingly deft move that shocks
him and causes him to reevaluate whether this is such a good idea after all.
"Have you been practising with Allison lately or something?" he asks carefully.
Her smirk transforming into a toothy grin, Lydia nods before running straight
at Derek with her arm raised.
Having not expected such a sudden start, Derek is caught off-guard and ends up
getting a thin cut across the back of his forearm when he raises it in defence.
He grunts when the pain shoots up his arm, but thankfully, due to his advanced
healing, he doesn't have to endure much before his skin begins to knit itself
back together. Now that he's fully focused on Lydia's movements, he uses his
quick reflexes to dodge her next flurry of attacks, winding around the girl in
a dance that is surprisingly graceful for someone of his broad stature.
It's not long before Lydia is disarmed, the knife clattering to the floor as
Derek's tight hold on her arm forces the grip she has on its hilt to weaken. He
is careful not to grip too tightly and injure the girl. Ideally, someone on a
level playing field would be there to spar with her, as his werewolf strength
prevents him from giving it his all in fear of causing undue harm, especially
given his enhanced alpha status. He regrets for a second turning down Chris'
offer to help, but his lingering distrust for the man allows him to make
relative peace with his decision.
Things continue in a similar fashion for some time, Lydia improving slightly
with every attempt as she tries out all of the different borrowed knives. Derek
glances over at Danny, Isaac and Stiles on the opposite side of the room every
now and then to check in on their progress and is pleased to see that they've
moved on to slightly more advanced fighting techniques. Soon enough, and sooner
than he had been expecting, Lydia is able to hold out against him for over a
minute before being taken down. Deciding that this is probably a good place to
stop for now, he takes the knife she clutches in her hand back to the box in
the centre of the room and picks up one of the handguns instead, checking to
make sure it's loaded before going back over to the girl and handing the
firearm over.
Following a minute of contemplation, Derek makes his way over to the wall
closest to himself and uses his claws to scratch several crude targets into the
rough bricks for Lydia to aim at. Inspecting his handiwork with a satisfied
smile, he steps back next to the redhead and thinks over everything he knows
about handling a gun. He is troubled by how little knowledge he has on the
subject and is about to suggest they leave it for another day when Stiles
suddenly appears beside him, startling him. "Stiles? What are you doing?" he
asks, confused. He looks back at Danny and Isaac and sees that the two betas
are now sparring with each other.
Stiles sends Derek a reassuring smile. "Well...we were about to start
practising with my powers when I looked over here and saw that you were moving
onto the gun and that you looked pretty lost," he explains, blocking out the
sounds of growling and grunting he can hear coming from behind himself. "You've
never done this before, have you?"
Derek shakes his head in response, shrugging. "I've never really had to. I've
always just used these," he states, holding up a hand and bringing out his
claws again. "They've always been effective enough that I haven't had to worry
about using another weapon before." He remembers faintly that once, when he was
around eleven or twelve, his aunt Marion had wanted to learn to defend herself
and had booked some time at a shooting range. She had offered to take anyone
with her who wanted to come, but he had declined. The fire had killed everyone
before he had the chance to reconsider.
"Fair enough," Stiles muses, nodding understandingly. "Well, maybe I can be of
some help here, then!" He elaborates when he sees both of Derek and Lydia's
baffled expressions. "My dad is the sheriff, remember? I know the basics about
using a standard-issue firearm like that." He points to the gun Lydia still
clutches daintily in her right hand. He rolls his eyes when she and Derek both
continue to stare at him dumbly, almost disbelievingly.
"How come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?" Lydia demands after
finally snapping out of her daze. Her arms swing out from her sides in a wide
arc which Derek has to duck in order to avoid being struck across the face by
one of her hands. After seeing what she almost did, she brings her arms down to
stay rigidly at her sides and sends the alpha an apologetic smile.
Stiles shrugs indifferently. "It's never come up," he says simply, smirking
when his answer causes Lydia to curse in exasperation.
Lydia blows out a breath to calm herself down before rejoining the
conversation. "Fine, I guess it doesn't really matter," she admits, almost as
if she's trying to convince herself of what she's saying. "Now, how do we do
this?" She has a vague idea of how people are supposed to use small firearms
like the one she holds, but not enough to put into practice by herself; the
subject has never been one that interested her enough in the past to make the
effort worth it. She makes a mental note to do some research into the topic so
she can be better prepared for when something like this comes up again, as she
thinks it inevitably will.
Reaching out a hand, Stiles takes the gun from Lydia's grip and steps forward
slightly so they're stood side by side. Making sure that the girl can see what
he's doing clearly, he puts both arms out in front of himself and begins
running through the steps. "OK, the first thing to remember is that you should
never have your finger on the trigger until you're ready to fire. This should
help stop any accidents from happening," he says, and Lydia and Derek both know
that he's repeating what he's heard elsewhere almost word for word. He keeps
his index finger extended along the barrel of the gun. "Also, make sure to keep
the safety on when you're not in combat." He glances sideways to make sure that
Lydia is still listening, his past experiences with the girl familiarising him
with her tendency to lose focus whenever she deems something to be beneath her.
As it is, Stiles is pleased when Lydia looks to be paying close attention,
although there is a slight hint of boredom in her eyes that makes him think
he's probably going over something she's already read somewhere. "Make sure
your grip stays firm when you line up the sights," he continues, readjusting
his hands on the gun. "You'll want to make sure the one here," he taps the
sight at the end of the barrel, "is pointed at your target and is also lined up
right in the middle of these two." He indicates to the two rear sights in front
of the hammer. "This'll let you know that you're shooting straight. The recoil
will probably shock you at first since you're not used to it, but you'll get
over it after a while. If you remember all of that and don't panic too much,
you should hit your target..."
Finally, to end his little demonstration, Stiles breathes deeply and aims the
gun at one of the rough circles Derek had scratched into the wall, clicks the
safety off and fires. A wide, triumphant smile breaks out on his face when he
sees the bullet hole is dead in the centre of the target. "There!" he exclaims
happily, turning to Lydia and handing her the gun. "Your turn." When he steps
back to give her some space to work with, he notices that Danny and Isaac have
both stopped their fighting and are also watching attentively.
Lydia follows Stiles' instructions meticulously. She takes a few extra seconds
to focus on her breathing and calm herself down, the prospect of shooting a gun
for the first time surprisingly one that makes her a little nervous. After
lining up the sights as accurately as she can with her target, she pulls the
trigger and jumps at the recoil just like Stiles said she would. A second,
small hole is now in the wall where the bullet embedded itself in the brick, a
few inches to the left of Stiles'.
Stiles applauds loudly and enthusiastically, making Lydia roll her eyes. "Well
done! That's really good for a first try!" he congratulates, patting the girl
gently on the back. "On my first time, I didn't even hit the target and I
remember crying afterward. Then again, I was around nine years old at the
time..." A faint blush appears on his cheeks as he recalls the embarrassing
memory.
Danny and Isaac laugh as quietly to themselves as they can from where they're
still stood on the other side of the room, not wanting to offend Stiles. From
the glare the other teen sends them, though, they know they failed miserably.
"Sorry..." Danny apologises. He looks away, pulling Isaac with him so they can
get back to sparring.
Shrugging off the light teasing, Stiles turns back to Derek and Lydia. "So, I'm
just gonna leave you guys to it..." he mutters, smiling tightly and heading
back over to rejoin the two betas. Things go smoothly after that for the most
part. The occasional series of loud bangs that fills the room as both Lydia and
Derek continue to refine their firing technique cause Danny and Isaac to stop
intermittently to cover their ears when the noise gets to be too much. Before
long, Stiles is concentrating on bringing forth his powers so he can better
control the different ways he can use them. Several of the old blankets are
turned to ash as larger and larger balls of fire are aimed at them, with Danny
throwing them across the room at varying speeds so he can practice on a moving
target like Derek suggested earlier.
The group stays in the room for another hour before calling it a day. It's
coming up to midday, so they decide to pack everything up and go out somewhere
to grab some lunch before they head back to Lydia's house. The bright light of
the sun hurts everyone's eyes for a few seconds when they exit the catacombs.
Stiles stands still with his hand covering his eyes for a minute as he gets
used to the brightness. He hears the sounds of car doors opening and closing
and some quiet chatter as everyone else gets ready to leave. Blinking slowly,
he lowers his arm and is relieved when the light doesn't hurt him anymore. He
looks over at the Camaro and sees Derek leaning against the driver's side door
with his arms crossed over his chest, looking right back at him as he waits.
Danny, Lydia and Isaac are all sat in the Hawaiian's car, talking raucously,
the redhead leaning forward over the centre console so they're all looking at
each other.
"You ready?" Derek calls over, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Nodding, Stiles walks over to the sleek, black car and slides inside, strapping
himself in after he shuts the door.
Once Derek has done the same, they reverse out of the clearing and head back
down the bumpy road leading toward town, the other three following close
behind. Guessing that the decision about where to eat has been left up to him
since it wasn't discussed prior to their leaving and he seems to be leader of
their little troupe, Derek thinks over all of the places he remembers liking.
The list is a short one, but he remembers giving each of the establishments on
it glowing reviews. Eventually, he comes to a conclusion and turns the car onto
one of the main roads, heading to a small diner he remembers going to every
month with his family. He hasn't been there since the fire, so he is slightly
worried that the food will have changed in those years.
Stiles glances backward to check that Danny, Isaac and Lydia are still
following, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees the red car is just a few
metres behind Derek and himself. He is surprised when the Camaro pulls to a
stop, having expected the drive to take more time. Looking around, he sees that
Derek has taken them to a place called 'Steve's Diner'. The name rings a bell,
though he doesn't remember ever going in.
When Derek walks through the diner's entrance, he sees the hostess' gloomy
expression transform into a wide smile when she looks in his direction, popping
the gum in her mouth and twirling a finger around a piece of her dark brown
hair. The action is so cliché that he has serious trouble resisting the urge to
laugh at how much of a fool the woman is making of herself. Instead, he
plasters on what he hopes is a somewhat congenial smile of his own as he steps
up to her. His four pack members shuffle in behind him.
"Hi! Table for five?" the woman chirps happily, chewing her gum and grabbing
several menus from the pile next to her.
Derek manages to catch a glimpse of the name tag pinned to her chest before she
turns away, revealing her name to be Tiffany.
Tiffany leads the group to a large, secluded booth near the back and sets the
menus down atop the table before pulling out her notepad and pen from the
depths of her apron. She steps back to allow her customers to seat themselves.
Lydia ends up sandwiched in the middle, with Danny and Isaac sat on one side
and Stiles and Derek on the other.
"Alright, what can I get you to drink?" Tiffany asks, pen poised. She directs
the question at Derek, seemingly ignoring the rest of the group.
The woman's overt interest in Derek gets right under Stiles' skin. He shifts
sideways obviously so that his and Derek's thighs are touching and sends her a
scathing look. "I'll have a coke," he says, hoping to get her attention away
from his man. He ignores the stifled giggling he can hear coming from Lydia and
Isaac.
Tiffany glances over at Stiles and grudgingly takes down his order before
turning back to Derek. "And for you, sir?"
"I'll take a glass of water," Derek says simply. He can feel Stiles becoming
more and more incensed as the seconds tick by and hopes that his disinterested
attitude will be effective at putting a stop to Tiffany's advances and calming
the teen down. He is relieved when the woman's attention flicks off of him and
over to the rest of the pack when she takes their drink orders. He watches
gratefully as she shuffles away to get everyone's beverages, breathing out a
long breath when he feels Stiles relax next to him. He hopes that when she
comes back she doesn't make another pass at him. The unwanted attention makes
him uncomfortable and has ever since Kate got her long nails into him.
Eventually, they all decide on what food they want and dig in enthusiastically
when it arrives, Stiles practically devouring his BLT in seconds and surprising
everybody by ordering a second. When they're all finished, Derek signals
Tiffany back over and requests the bill. He keeps ignoring the woman's hopeful
looks as he counts out the bills he keeps in his back pocket. After paying, he
is more than ready to leave and get away from her already, especially since her
flirtations have gotten even more desperate as the hour they've spent in the
diner has worn on. Standing, he shakes his head when he notices a phone number
is written on the back of the receipt she hands him. Finally losing his
patience, he is about to tell her that he's not available and that she should
just stop trying when Stiles comes out of nowhere, grabs him and shoves their
lips together in a forceful kiss.
Having also grown tired of Tiffany's increasing desire to make Derek hers,
Stiles keeps his eyes open and looks directly into hers as he kisses Derek. He
is vindictively pleased when he catches a glimpse of her shocked and slightly
annoyed expression before she storms away. When he finally pulls back, he
mutters a quick apology when he notices the slightly dazed and confused look on
Derek's face before retreating back outside.
"I guess that's one way to do it," Lydia whispers to Danny and Isaac. She
smiles pleasantly as she follows Stiles outside, pushing Derek ahead of her
with a hand between his shoulder blades when she realises that he doesn't seem
to have the mental capacity to leave on his own at that moment.
Stiles is stood next to the Camaro when the rest of the group come outside,
leaning with his forearms crossed atop the roof as he drums his fingers
absently against its smooth surface. He notices the group's presence and pulls
away, feeling his cheeks heat up drastically when he sees the knowing smirk on
Lydia's face. Quickly looking away, a loud squeak is startled out of him when
he feels arms wrap themselves around his waist and he is lifted into the air.
He is about to call out for help when he hears laughing and realises that the
culprit is just Derek, no doubt getting his revenge. "Alright, alright, I said
I was sorry, now put me down!" he demands, flailing his legs uselessly.
When his feet touch the ground again, Stiles immediately whirls around and
punches the alpha wolf lightly on his firm chest, pouting as he does so. "No
fair, Mr.," he mutters, shaking his head and looking down to hide his
embarrassment as he rounds the Camaro and hops inside the passenger seat.
Derek is in the process of opening his own door when he catches a faint whiff
of the foulest stench he can imagine. He recognises it and whips his head from
side to side as he tries to figure out which direction it comes from. He sees
from the corner of his eye that Danny and Isaac are doing the same with looks
of alarm on their faces. Finally narrowing down the general direction, Derek
dashes around the car and yanks Stiles out again. He sees the baffled
expression on both his and Lydia's faces and remembers that the two human teens
can't smell it with their inferior noses. "It's Landon," he says bluntly, his
voice strained and his whole body tensed for a fight. He figures his estranged
uncle is probably not stupid enough to attack in public in broad daylight, but
he prepares for one anyway, just in case he's wrong.
"What do we do?" Stiles asks frantically, taking Derek's hand from where it
still circles his wrist and interlocking their fingers. He draws a small sense
of comfort from the connection.
"He's close," Derek says, staring intently in the direction Landon's stench is
coming from. A million different ideas run through his mind before he decides
on one that could end up being incredibly reckless. "We're going after him." He
marches forward, locking his car by aiming his keys over his shoulder as he
does so and pulling Stiles along behind himself. He hears Danny, Isaac and
Lydia hurry to follow, muttering between themselves about how bad an idea this
is.
They come to stop at the end of an alleyway. It's so narrow that little light
can get to it, making the long stretch of concrete and brick appear dark and
sinister. The stench in the immediate area is almost overwhelming, and Derek
thinks for a second that he could live the rest of his life never having to
experience its ubiquitous presence again and die a happy man. A quick survey of
the alley reveals no one's presence, which he finds confusing. He was sure that
this was where the smell led. As he is about to suggest they return to the
cars, he sees a deep shadow against one of the walls shift slightly. He growls
threateningly in its direction.
"Now, now, Derek. There's no need for such hostility," a voice says haughtily,
echoing slightly in the enclosed space. The shadow moves further until the five
pack members are all able to see a silhouette standing in the middle of the
alley. When it waves a hand over itself, the darkness surrounding the figure
disappears in a swirl of black, taking the stench with it.
Standing in the shadow's place is a tall, blond man that Derek recognises
instantly. His top lip curls back in a snarl. "Landon."
***** Games *****
After what he guesses has been several hours, Jackson is going out of his mind
with boredom. His nose twitches every few minutes when the constant smell of
mould and wolfsbane irritates his sensitive nostrils. The sensation is all the
prevents him from joining his packmates in slumber and he wishes ardently that
he could get a hand free for the sole purpose of scratching the aggravated
skin. The thought of waking his companions up to distract himself floats around
and around in his head, but he always decides uncharacteristically to let them
be, not wanting to interrupt something that could prove to be beneficial should
any of them manage to release themselves from their bonds soon. The decision is
based off of a lesson taught to them by Derek months ago. The alpha always
reminds the pack after each training session to get plenty of sleep so they're
alert should a situation just like this one present itself.
The need to urinate is also growing more and more bothersome, Jackson's bladder
having been full for hours. Every once in a while, Landon will return and
release him for a couple of minutes at a time so he can relieve himself. The
first couple of times, he had fought back valiantly in an effort to try and
overthrow his captor, but the attempts all left him with new, slow-healing
wounds, all of which were inflicted with a wolfsbane-laced knife that Landon
would wield in deft hands. The few things he's been able to make out about the
area since he stopped resisting haven't told him much. He hasn't been able to
come to any sort of conclusion about his prison and still couldn't hazard a
decent guess as to its location. All he knows is that there is a pitch black
hallway behind a hidden door, at the end of which is a filthy, decrepit toilet
that he daren't sit on. He wonders when his next bathroom break will be.
Jackson has just started pondering whether it's night- or daytime when Sheriff
Stilinski begins stirring next to him. The man groans loudly as his eyes
flutter open and he looks around. He sees the abundance of teenagers in the
dark room with himself with widening eyes. Wondering what could possibly be
going on, he casts his mind back and thinks of the last thing he can remember.
One of the last things he recalls is the brief and somewhat confusing
conversation he shared with Stiles when the teen came back home looking like
death warmed over. He guesses that whatever is happening is what his son said
he'd tell him about at a later time.
"Nice of you to finally join us," Jackson says sarcastically, covering up his
relief at the man finally waking up with a thick layer of disinterest.
John's head snaps around to Jackson at this, surprised to find him awake. His
quick scan over the room and at the slumbering teens had led to the assumption
that everyone else in the room was unconscious. "Jackson?" he asks, curiously.
He goes through the same efforts that each of the room's other occupants had
tried upon waking, attempting futilely to free himself from his restraints.
"Where are we? What's going on here?"
"I take it by that last question that Stilinski didn't tell you anything before
you were abducted?" Jackson asks, already knowing the answer and rolling his
eyes when he gets the expected nod from John in response. "Typical... Well,
basically, there's this new villain in town—Derek's long lost uncle Landon—and
he's been going 'round kidnapping us all because he's a giant, jealous
douchebag. Clear enough?"
John blinks dumbly a couple of times as he lets the new information sink in.
"So...we're just trapped here until they come and rescue us?" he asks, not
liking those odds. It's not that he doesn't believe in the pack and in Stiles
with all his heart. It's just the fact that so many of them have already been
captured so easily doesn't exactly boost his confidence at their coming out of
this whole thing unscathed. He just hopes nothing happens to Stiles that hurts
him as much as the Nogitsune did. He really doesn't want a repeat performance
of how miserable his son was the first couple of weeks after that happened.
"Basically, yes," Jackson admits. "We're pretty much fucked." He has just
finished speaking when the sounds of sliding stone echo throughout the room
again. Instantly realising what this means, he throws his previous thoughts of
letting his packmates get their rest out of the metaphorical window and yells
at them all to wake up. He guesses that Landon would've been able to hear his
outburst from the top of the stairs as well but doesn't care in the slightest.
Every sleeping occupant in the room startles awake, some more panicked than
others. Cora, Boyd and Erica merely open their eyes and send Jackson matching
glares, whereas Scott wakes up flailing in a surprising imitation of Stiles
that is borne from years of friendship. Everyone registers the sound of
descending footsteps before they have a chance to ask what their rude
awakenings were about. They all watch the empty doorway anxiously, waiting for
Landon's appearance. Surprise paints itself across everyone's features when,
instead of the bleach-blond Hale they had been expecting, they find Peter
standing in his place. The man smirks when he sees the looks everybody is
sending him, pleased at having elicited such a reaction with just his presence,
spectacular as he likes to believe it to be.
"What a lovely welcome," Peter snarks, stepping fully into the room and running
his eyes over everybody.
"Why the fuck are you here, Peter?" Scott growls threateningly, his eyes
flashing yellow. After Landon informed them all yesterday of Peter's
involvement in their current predicament, his hatred for the eldest Hale has
increased exponentially. He has no qualms about making his strong feelings
known, despite his restraints making it far from an even playing field.
Choosing not to answer the question, Peter levels his eyes on John. "Well,
well...look who's finally decided to join us," he smiles, crouching down in
front of the sheriff with his arms crossed over his knees so they're face to
face. "I was beginning to wonder whether Landon had been too hard on you. It
wouldn't have put much of a damper on our plans, but it is a relief to know
you're still alive so that we can still taunt our dear Stiles with your life."
The goading smirk he wears is quickly replaced by molten rage when John, having
obviously put two and two together and figured out Peter's involvement, spits
right in his face.
The betas all watch this exchange on bated breath. All are surprised at the
obvious show of hatred coming from John, none of them accustomed to seeing the
man be anything other than pleasant, and hope that it doesn't result in
retaliation similar to when Landon struck Cora earlier. Relief floods their
systems when Peter simply wipes his palm across his cheek to rid himself of the
saliva dripping down his face.
"You'll live to regret that, I can assure you," Peter promises darkly, shaking
his hand out before drying it on the black fabric of his jeans. "You're lucky
that Landon wants to save you for last." With one last baleful glance, he turns
away from John and begins to make his way over to Erica. He is distracted from
his target when he notices the papers sprawled out on the floor in the centre
of the room. Bending down to examine them, he snorts derisively when he reads
their contents before gathering them all up and shoving them back inside the
box from which he knows they came. The action makes his familiarity with the
room obvious to everyone. Tidying finished, he again steps over to the blonde
beta and reaches out a hand toward the shackles screwed tightly around her
wrists.
Erica flinches back when she sees Peter's hand move closer to her, the small
display of fear enough to draw a chuckle out of the man. Looking down, she sees
that she is in a prime spot to knee him in his crotch. She is in the middle of
deciding whether or not it would be wise to do so when the shackle around her
left wrist is undone and her arm flops down at her side, numb from having been
raised at such an uncomfortable angle for an extended period of time. The shock
at being freed brings her out of her musings, and she looks up at the repulsive
face hovering just inches above her own. Their eyes meet when her right arm is
freed, the knowing smirk and slightly demented glint in Peter's eyes sending a
shiver down her spine as they promise nothing but bad things for her. Before
she can enquire as to why she is no longer being restrained, Peter pulls a
syringe seemingly out of nowhere and plunges the needle into her neck.
Several shocked gasps and cries of outrage echo throughout the room as Peter
sits back and lets the effects of what he just injected into Erica take hold.
"What did you to her?!" Boyd yells, his eyes a steady yellow in his fury.
Peter waves Boyd off with a hand, rolling his eyes. "Relax... It's nothing
life-threatening, just some harmless kanima venom," he explains, pleased when
Erica starts to slump even further down the wall. "I wouldn't want her to do
something stupid like trying to escape. Then I'd have to hurt her, and since
it's not part of Landon's plan for that to happen just yet, that wouldn't be
good for anybody." When he deems that the paralytic has taken full effect, he
slings one of Erica's arms around his head and, after getting a firm grip on
the girl's waist, hefts her up into a fireman's carry. Standing, he pauses in
his stride toward the stairs when he hears the sounds of vigorous struggling
coming from behind himself. Turning, he grins when he sees Boyd trying
desperately to rip his hands from his shackles, to no avail.
"Relax, you idiot," Peter drawls, shifting the limp body on his shoulder into a
slightly more comfortable position. "Nothing should happen to her, so long as
Derek and his band of buffoons succeed in the next part of Landon's scheme."
"What is this fucking plan you keep talking about?" Cora demands, eyes
narrowed. Having never experienced a family member's betrayal firsthand, at
least not one she remembers, the fact that two of her uncles are conspiring to
take out a third member of her family is effective at getting under her skin.
She remembers little about life in Beacon Hills before the fire, but what she
does know is that she and Peter used to be reasonably close. The situation
hurts, regardless of her secondhand knowledge about his first indiscretions
from when he was an alpha.
An expression appears on Peter's face that could almost be called empathetic.
Depositing Erica down on the floor with an audible thud—which results in
another angry growl from Boyd—he crouches down in front of Cora and brushes a
stray strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "That's for me
to know and for you to find out...eventually," he whispers, taking his hand
back when she tries unsuccessfully to bite at his fingers. "Oh, I know... This
must be hurting you something fierce. I want you to take comfort in the
knowledge that all of this will be over soon enough. I might even be able to
convince Landon to go easy on you, to make it quick." He smiles almost kindly,
as if what he's saying is offering Cora some modicum of solace, when in reality
it is doing nothing but exacerbating her fear and anger.
"You can take everything you just said and shove it up your ass," Cora bites
out venomously, satisfied when Peter shakes his head as if disappointed and
moves away.
Lifting Erica over his shoulder again, Peter bids farewell to the rest of the
room and finally ascends the stairs. The sound of shifting stone is heard once
more before silence settles over the group.
"Well...that was fun," Allison says, still staring after Peter. She turns to
Boyd when she hears quiet whining sounds coming from his direction. The boy is
in obvious distress at his girlfriend having been taken away for reasons
unknown. "Don't worry about Erica, Boyd. Derek, Stiles and Isaac won't let
anything happen to her." Her words offer little reassurance, not even to
herself.
                                     * * *
"Hello, Derek," Landon greets mockingly, shuffling slightly from foot to foot
with his hands clasped behind his back.
The remaining pack members are all surprised at meeting their assailant for the
first time without his smokescreen obscuring his face. The evil glint in
Landon's eyes sends shivers down everybody's spines, the coldness and
unpredictability within their depths making them cautious from where they stay
standing several feet away. The man seems shorter than Derek remembers, though
that could just be because he himself is taller now.
"What are you doing here, Landon?" Derek asks, trying to project nothing but
confidence and intimidation with his tone. The presence of the four teenagers
stood behind him allows him to pull it off for the most part.
Landon smirks, amused. "What? Can't an uncle pay his favourite nephew a visit
without having an ulterior motive?" he asks, feigned hurt lacing his tone. "I
just thought it was about time for us to finally meet face to face again, is
all. Did you have fun down in our house's old training room earlier? It
certainly looked like you did." He lets out a small chuckle when Derek's eyes
widen considerably. "Yes, I was there. You really should be more vigilant,
Derek... And you call yourself an alpha. Your bitch of a mother would be so
very disappointed at how you've managed to let most of your fledgling little
pack be captured so easily. After all the trouble she went to in driving me off
so I couldn't get to you again, I can see her efforts were wasted. How sad."
Derek feels a low growl building in his throat at the insult to both himself
and his late mother. Only Stiles' hand reaching forward to grasp his stops him
from wolfing out fully and attacking recklessly. "I'm only going to ask you one
more time: what are you doing here?" he demands, the repeated question forced
out word by word through clenched teeth.
Rolling his eyes at Derek's impatience, Landon takes several steps forward
until he and his nephew are stood just a foot apart. His smirk reappears when
their increased proximity causes a faint trace of red to appear around the
alpha's irises. "You're not scared of little ol' me, are you?" he asks,
pouting, his brow furrowing with faked worry. When Derek does nothing but
continue to glare in response, he sighs as if saddened by the less than warm
reception. "Alright, fine. If you're going to be such a party pooper then I
guess I'll get straight to the point of this little one-sided chat. How would
you like a chance to get your precious betas back, hmm?" At this, the five pack
members perk up with interest, causing the unsettling smirk to once again slide
onto his face. "That's what I thought. So, would you like to play a game?"
Silence settles over the group as Derek and his betas are all rendered
dumbstruck by the ominous question.
Stiles is the one to finally break the quiet. He doesn't like where the
conversation seems to be heading and just decides to come out and ask already,
hoping to at least get this encounter over with as soon as possible. "Alright,
Jigsaw, what kind of game are we talking about here?" he asks, crossing his
arms and narrowing his eyes at Landon.
Landon's gaze switches from Derek to Stiles, delight appearing on his face. He
makes to step closer to the teen but is stopped when Derek sticks out one of
his arms protectively and blocks his way. He bats the arm away, disgruntled,
sending the man a look of deepest disdain, his friendly facade gone completely.
"Oh, come off it, Derek. You know you wouldn't stand a chance against me, but
you can relax; I'm not going to do anything to him...yet," he promises, pleased
when his words get him the outraged reaction he had been hoping they would.
Waving off Derek's reddening face, he turns back to Stiles. "I'm glad you
asked, Stiles! I'm going to give you the chance to win back one of the members
of your pack, one at a time."
Baffled by the strange offer, Stiles tilts his head to the side slightly in a
contemplative gesture, his brow furrowed. "Um...what?" he asks dumbly, unable
to make sense of Landon's words as they seem so far out of left field. From the
looks of confusion on everyone else's faces, he knows they're all struggling
similarly.
"It's quite simple, really," Landon continues, beginning to pace back and forth
as he gesticulates wildly. "Ordinarily, I would just carry on taking you all
out one by one until I get to what I want," the three wolves and Lydia all step
infinitesimally closer to Stiles at this, "but since we have such a colourful
history, Derek, I've decided to extend the fun we've been having to make the
most out of you. Peter should be here any minute now, hopefully bringing one of
your little puppies with him. Then, I'm going to hide this puppy somewhere in
town—away from where I'm keeping the rest, so don't get your hopes up about
finding them just yet," he wags a condescending finger in Derek's face, pulling
it back only when sharpened teeth snap dangerously close to the tip, "and
you'll have just an hour to find them." Turning on his heel, Landon spins to
face the group again with a satisfied smirk back on his face.
"That sounds simple enough..." Lydia says slowly, sure that there must be
something else Landon isn't telling them but hoping for once that she's wrong.
Landon regards Lydia for a second with devious eyes. "Oh, but wait, there's
more!" he announces gleefully. "Once the hour is up, if you haven't found
Peter's chosen pup, then they'll be lost to you forever...and I'll also be
taking one of the three I have yet to capture as punishment for your failure. I
think I'll go with this one..." He points to Isaac. "He just seems so sweet! I
bet we could have a lot of fun together, him and me."
Both Danny and Derek's eyes flash yellow and red at this, not liking the
implications of Landon's last sentence. The sound of an approaching car can be
heard coming from the diner parking lot, away from which they all face,
distracting them from offering a proper response or spitting out a sharp
rebuke.
"Ah, that should be Peter coming now," Landon announces, practically vibrating
with callous excitement.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the sounds of two car doors being opened and
slammed shut echo across the red brick of the walls before footsteps can be
heard, coming closer and closer. Everyone watches, hardly daring to breathe, as
a shadow appears across the rough ground, followed by a looming figure blocking
the narrow alley's exit, backlit by the sun, its identity obscured. The unusual
bulkiness of the silhouette's top half creates a frightening and somewhat
confusing picture. The sun disappears behind a cloud at the same time the
figure steps forward, allowing the six pairs of eyes it walks toward to
register just who their new companion is.
As Landon expected, Peter is revealed to be standing several feet away. The two
share silent communication through their eyes. A body is thrown casually over
one his shoulders, and from the tall heels on her feet and the long, blonde
curls hanging down from her head, the five remaining members of the Hale pack
all realise at the same time just who Peter has chosen to use as the first pawn
in Landon's sick game. From the docile way in which Erica's body hangs, they
all think for a second that the girl must be unconscious. The sound of her
erratic breathing reaches their ears and lets them know of her true state.
"Erica!" Isaac exclaims, making to rush forward in a vain attempt at reaching
his seemingly slumbering packmate. Only Danny's hand wrapped around his bicep
stops him from making any progress.
"I don't think that's a good idea..." Danny warns, pulling Isaac back to rejoin
the group.
"Listen to your little boyfriend, Isaac," Peter says smugly, happy to once
again be in a place in which he has power he can lord over everybody. His glee
intensifies when he notices just how close Derek seems to losing his carefully
held control, the alpha's eyes a constant red.
Landon walks confidently right between the five people standing between him and
Peter, the narrowness of the alleyway causing them to have to shrink back
against the rough walls to avoid any skin-on-skin contact. When he reaches
Peter, he signals for the man to set Erica down on the dirt-covered and urine-
soaked ground.
Now she's lying face-up, Derek can see that Erica's face is a mixture of raging
fury and deepest fear, her eyes switching rapidly back and forth between Landon
and Peter before they shift over to meet his own, pleading for help. He feels
tremendously guilty that he can offer her none at that moment in time, Landon's
presence still imposing enough to deter any efforts he briefly considers
making. When he hears Isaac whine sadly from behind himself, he turns away from
the scene he faces briefly and lays a firm hand on the curly-haired beta's
shoulder, hoping to offer some semblance of reassurance. When he sees Danny
link his own hand with Isaac's, causing the deep frown etched into the taller
teen's face to let up marginally, he deems his help unnecessary and turns back
to listen in on Peter and Landon's quiet conversation.
"So, what do we do with her?" Peter asks Landon, nudging Erica's hip gently
with his shoe. He can't help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for the girl when
he takes in what a pathetic picture she makes.
Grinning sadistically from ear to ear after he glances down at Erica himself,
Landon meets Peter's eyes and pokes him lightly in the centre of his chest.
"You already know what I'm going to do with this one, silly," he teases.
Instead of withdrawing his finger, he splays his hand out and feels the other
man's heart beat steadily through the thin cotton of his navy blue v-neck t-
shirt. His eyes become hooded as his smile becomes predatory. "As for what
happens to her later, well...that all depends on how our dear nephew does in
the next hour." He looks back and throws a wink at Derek from over his
shoulder.
Becoming more and more vexed by the second, Derek turns away from the two
conversing men and tries to calm himself down. He keeps an eye on Stiles from
his periphery in case he decides to do anything reckless, his senses telling
him that the teen's temperament is akin to his own.
Peter brushes off Landon's hand, resolutely ignoring the irritated expression
that flashes quickly across his long lost adoptive sibling's face. "I see. So,
are we going to get this show on the road?" he asks, impatient to watch the
previously discussed events unfold from his usual position, perched on the
sidelines.
"Indeed..." Landon says slowly, not liking having his advances brushed off so
glibly. Bending down, he wraps a hand around Erica's wrist and drags her up to
lean against his own body, shifting so his arm is slung around her waist,
supporting her. Blonde curls blow distractingly in his face, causing him to
splutter when a couple of stray hairs find their way into his mouth. Shoving
her head away from his harshly, he shakes off the small lapse in his confident
veneer and signals for Peter to come closer.
Following Landon's orders somewhat reluctantly, Peter takes the other man's
proffered hand with his own and rolls his eyes when he sees the pleased smirk
on Landon's face.
Spinning to once again face Derek, Landon clears his throat pointedly to get
the younger man to turn back around, not liking having his presence disregarded
in such a way. His narrowed eyes relax marginally when his nephew deigns to
acknowledge him once more. "Well...this has been fun and all, but it's really
time to commence our little game. I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a
clue: you'll find her in a place where a loved one was once injured. I wish you
luck," he says, his eyes flitting between the four teenagers stood behind Derek
before he blinks himself, Erica and Peter out of the immediate area.
Running forward, Stiles checks the ground around where their tormentors had
been standing just a second before. Even though he's seen Landon's stolen power
of teleportation firsthand in the past, he still has a little trouble believing
it to be real in that moment. He spares a brief thought about the lack of
lightning that had accompanied each of Landon's previous teleportations before
casting it from his mind, declaring it to be irrelevant.
"Stiles?" Lydia asks, stepping forward nervously to join the boy at the alley's
opening. She doesn't like the wildness of her friend's expression and almost
expects her touch to be rebuffed violently as she rests a shaking hand on his
shoulder. She is relieved when nothing of the sort happens.
"We should move," Stiles says eventually, not waiting for a response and
instead walking back in the direction of their cars.
Sharing looks of bafflement between themselves, Lydia, Isaac and Danny watch as
Derek instantly leaps forward to follow Stiles out of the alley. Shaking
themselves out of their stupor and putting the safety of their blonde packmate
at the forefront of their minds, they trail after their alpha and find the two
men talking animatedly beside the Camaro.
"He was looking at you when he said 'loved one', so I'm guessing he meant one
of your family members or old friends," Stiles says, tearing his eyes from
Derek's and staring off into the distance as he thinks, tapping a finger
impatiently atop the car's roof. He doesn't react when Lydia, Isaac and Danny
appear beside him. "Is there anything specific that stands out? Besides the
fire, I guess, since that would probably be too obvious..."
Derek casts his mind back over everything he can remember from his past, when
he was living in Beacon Hills, trying to recall every instance of injury he can
remember, however small. The problem with coming from a family of werewolves is
that there are far too many from which to choose that he ends up even more
confused than he was before he started thinking. "Someone seemed to get hurt
nearly every day when I was growing up..." he laments, frowning. Deciding that
Stiles is probably right about the fire, he begins sifting through the smaller
injuries he can remember that weren't quite so life-and-death. "I can tell you
that most of it happened in the preserve around our old house, though."
Slapping his hand down on the Camaro's roof, Stiles urges the rest of the pack
to step back and give him room to pull open the passenger door. "We'll start
there, then," he says, command clear in his voice as he slides inside the
vehicle and slams the door closed behind himself.
Deciding it would probably be for the best not to go against Stiles'
suggestion, Derek heads around to the driver's door and joins the teen inside
his car as the other three walk back over to Danny's and follow suit. It
doesn't take him long to manoeuvre the Camaro out of the parking lot. Pressing
his foot down forcefully on the pedal, he speeds off in the direction of the
closest entrance to the preserve, mindful to keep the other car in view behind
himself during the whole journey. He hears Stiles' heart beating abnormally
quickly beside him the entire time.
When Derek pulls up along the side of the road next to the dense trees, Stiles
unbuckles his seatbelt and races out of the car. He stands there impatiently.
Danny's vehicle comes to a stop a few feet away and, a few seconds later, the
five pack members are gathered in a tight group in the dirt.
"Alright, I don't think there'll be too much of a problem with splitting up at
the moment," Derek says, taking charge again now that Stiles seems to have gone
quiet. "Since this is all part of Landon's sick game, we shouldn't have to
worry about anyone else being taken just yet, so long as he sticks to his own
rules. There are lots of places scattered around here where someone from my
family got hurt, so we need to look everywhere we can." He pulls his phone out
of his pocket and checks the time. "Alright, we have about fifty minutes left
on the clock. I want everyone to meet back here before that time comes to an
end, regardless of whether or not you've managed to find Erica."
Instructions given, Derek and Stiles split off from the other three, heading in
a different direction through the thick trunks and dense greenery of the
preserve. They walk at a brisk pace, their heads whipping from side to side as
they stay on the lookout from any small flash of blonde hair or leather,
remaining close together just in case.
"He's such a sadistic asshole..." Stiles mumbles to himself, tripping over a
thin root that protrudes from the ground at an awkward angle. He longs for the
day when he sees Landon's reign of tyranny come to an end, preferably through
painful means.
Derek glances sideways at Stiles, silently agreeing. "He's always been that
way, from what little I can remember of him," he muses, scenting the air deeply
in hopes of catching a whiff of Erica's distinctive perfume. "It was never
quite this bad, though." After he got his memories back with the help of his
mother's claws, there were too many to wade through to make sense of much. Only
the most recent few made any sense to him at the time, but as the days wear on,
more and more of them are coming back into focus, feeling strange in their
newness. He tries to pinpoint the moment when he came to the conclusion that
his adoptive uncle unnerved him, but there isn't one clear standout, only a
multitude of little moments that culminate in an intense dislike.
Kicking aside a small stone in frustration, Stiles starts to feel his
confidence wavering, his body beginning to sink in on itself slightly as the
negative thoughts he had just begun to get rid of once again start assaulting
his mind. They speak of how much of a failure he is, of how much better off the
rest of the pack would have been if he had just died along with the Nogitsune.
They certainly wouldn't be in this predicament now if he had, his reasoning
being that Landon would've had no reason to return to Beacon Hills if it
weren't for the lure of his new powers. He steps slightly closer to Derek,
hoping to use the older man as his anchor, like a barrier against his seemingly
uncontrollable thoughts. Their hands brush against each other and he grabs onto
Derek like a lifeline. When he sees his actions have caused the alpha to glance
in his direction in confusion, he turns his face away in a feeble attempt to
stave off any questions he doesn't want to answer.
When he sees how determinedly Stiles is avoiding his gaze, Derek comes to a
stop, tugging the boy even closer and wrapping his arms around his shaking
body. He feels Stiles suck in a sharp breath against his collarbone as he
tightens his hold, rubbing a hand up and down the teen's back comfortingly. He
doesn't give voice to any of the many questions he longs to ask, instead
choosing to just provide as much reassurance as he can with his actions. He
feels Stiles sag into his hold after a few seconds and the breath the teen had
drawn in is let out in a long, shaky exhale against his skin that sends shivers
down his spine. He keeps them standing there for several minutes as he waits
for Stiles to calm down again. He thinks he knows what had been wrong, his own
intimate familiarity with guilt allowing him an acute insight into Stiles'
thought processes. The fact that time continues to tick away as they remain
stationary in their embrace never leaves his mind, but his need to give comfort
to the teen in his arms outweighs the urgency that knowledge instills in him.
Letting the warmth from Derek's body seep into his own, Stiles tries his
hardest to banish the many thoughts of self-loathing and self-deprecation that
continue to float around his mind. It's not an easy feat, but after drawing as
much reassurance as he possibly can from the selfless man in front of him, he
manages. He breathes out one last shaky breath before stepping back, keeping
his eyes averted out of embarrassment. "Thanks," he says lamely, scratching a
hand nervously through the short hairs at his nape. His little episode is an
insistent reminder that he's still not recovered fully from his depression. He
feels incredibly stupid for believing even for a second that his progressing
relationship with Derek would have suddenly fixed all of his issues. He knows
better than to think like that.
"Don't mention it," Derek responds quietly, knowing that Stiles' journey will
be an uphill battle, complete with relapses. He vows silently to himself that
he'll be there to help every step of the way.
Waving a hand in the direction in which they'd been heading before their
lingering hug, Stiles finally meets Derek's eyes and offers the alpha a timid
smile before stepping around him and continuing their search. He hears Derek
follow his lead before they fall in step, side by side. He keeps his mind on
the task at hand to avoid it wandering anywhere he doesn't want it to go, an
endeavour that is made easier when Derek links their hands, the skin-to-skin
contact providing a sufficient distraction.
The pair walk in silence for several minutes more before Derek's phone beeps in
his pocket, letting him know that they only have a measly ten minutes remaining
in which to find Erica before they have to head back to the rendezvous point.
His hopes are waning, but he perseveres and keeps both Stiles and himself
trudging forward regardless.
Looking around, it takes Derek a second to re-familiarise himself with his
surroundings, the time he spent comforting Stiles having caused him to briefly
lose track of where in the preserve they currently stand. Just when he realises
that they're close to where Laura had injured herself by knocking over a tree
and crushing one of her legs, he catches a very faint whiff of sweet, floral
perfume. He gasps when he recognises the scent as the one favoured by Erica.
Releasing Stiles' hand, he turns in place frantically to determine the
direction from which it emanates, anxious to find his missing beta before their
time limit ends.
Stiles is surprised when his hand is abruptly dropped. He turns to face Derek
and feels his eyebrows shoot up near his hairline when he takes in the alpha's
desperate expression. "Have you found her?!" he enquires excitedly, the
prospect of possibly besting Landon and reuniting himself with the blonde
werewolf being one that delights him immensely.
"Call the others and get them over here, quickly! Tell them to follow their
noses; they'll find us," Derek instructs, throwing his phone at Stiles when he
remembers that the teen no longer has his own. He waits impatiently while the
younger man dials and is happy when the call is kept short and concise, Stiles
hanging up within a minute and handing the device back. After sliding his phone
back inside his pocket, he once again grasps Stiles' hand and drags him in the
direction to which he was able to narrow down Erica's location.
As Derek was expecting, when he and Stiles break into the steep clearing where
Laura hurt herself, they find Erica slumped against the thick log that still
lays across the ground.
"Erica!" Stiles yells, jumping over a couple of tall roots as he runs toward to
the paralysed girl. He hears Derek yell after him, begging him to slow down,
but he pays the request no mind.
Chasing after Stiles, Derek is halfway across the clearing when he hears his
phone beep, telling him that their time is now up. As soon as his phone goes
quiet again, he watches with wide, horror-filled eyes as Stiles is halted in
his quest to get to Erica and thrown backward, soaring through the air. He
races forward in hopes of breaking the teen's fall, but not even his alpha
speed is enough to get him there before the impact and he winces when Stiles'
back meets the hard ground with a sickening crunch. He stands there, shocked
and unable to move for what seems like an eternity, when in reality his delay
only lasts a few seconds. He is about to rush over and make sure that Stiles is
OK when Landon's evil, booming laugh echoes throughout the clearing. He freezes
and turns on the spot, on the lookout for the source of the laughter. He keeps
his fangs bared and his claws drawn as he attempts to make his way forward
again. He speeds up considerably as he draws closer to Stiles' prone body and
thanks whoever is watching over them when he hears the teen groan in pain,
signalling that he is in fact still alive.
Bringing a hand up to clutch his head, Stiles sits up shakily, his ribs
protesting the movement. When his head stops spinning, he registers hands
gripping his shoulders and panics briefly before his vision clears and Derek's
face swims into view, etched with concern and inches from his own. Gripping a
hand around Derek's own, he allows himself to be pulled to his feet. He is
really getting tired of his ribs being bruised, either through his own
clumsiness or from being thrown around by enemies, and wonders how many more
times it'll be before he finally breaks one or more of them. A voice brings him
out of his pondering.
"Oh, you were so close!" Landon croons from where he stands several feet away,
watching the proceedings with his arms crossed over his chest, ever-present
cunning smile on his face.
Stiles whips his head around to face Landon, rubbing absently at the skin
between his shoulder and neck when the quick movement brings up a small twinge
of pain there. "What do you mean, 'we were so close'? We were right there!" he
yells angrily, a small sigh escaping when he feels Derek take over his rubbing.
From the slightly heady sensation that floods his system, he guesses that some
werewolf pain relief is also being employed.
Landon's eyes hold mocking sympathy within their depths and he tilts his head
to the side condescendingly. "What I mean, Stiles, is that you were close to
getting your friend back, but you didn't quite reach her in time," he explains,
his tone one that would be used when talking to a small child. "Unfortunately,
you didn't reach her before the hour was up. If only you'd been a few seconds
quicker... That must be quite infuriating for you!" He drops his feigned
concern at this last sentence, allowing his usual expression of sadistic glee
to once again mar his features when he sees how enraged both Derek and Stiles
appear to be.
Rapid footsteps can be heard approaching from beyond the trees before Danny and
Isaac bound through the small gaps between the trunks. Lydia appears a few
seconds later, her human speed coupled with her questionable choice in footwear
making her significantly slower than the two betas. They all come to an abrupt
stop when they take in the scene that greets them.
"Are...are we too late?" Isaac asks worriedly, stepping closer to Danny when he
sees Landon eyeing him appreciatively.
"Indeed you are, Isaac," Landon says, glancing backward at the girl still lying
on the ground behind himself. "Looks like you won't be getting her back today."
He looks positively delighted at this turn of events.
Derek takes a step forward at this, with his hands clenched tightly at his
sides, ceasing his leaching of Stiles' pain. "Now hold up just a second here!"
he yells angrily, slurring his words slightly around his fangs. "You said we
had an hour to find Erica. Well, we found her! You never said we had to
actually be touching her for us to win!"
Landon regards his nephew with a look of disdain. "You should know by now that
I don't play fair, Derek," he says simply, picking at his nails
disinterestedly. "Where would the fun be in that? I make it a point not to go
back on my word, which is why I was careful in how I laid out the rules
earlier. It's not my fault you were to stupid to infer their true meaning..."
His air of nonchalance only incenses his five adversaries further, something he
notes vindictively out of he corner of his eye. He hears a deep growl coming
from behind himself and is surprised that the paralysed girl would dare to
direct such open aggression in his direction. He aims a swift kick at her head,
knocking her out and effectively putting an end to the unexpected and unwelcome
noise.
Crying out with rage, Derek throws caution to wind when he sees his beta being
harmed and leaps forward, claws raised in hopes of catching his uncle off-guard
and sinking them into the vulnerable flesh of his neck. He should have known
better.
Having already heard Derek's advance, Landon bends down hastily and wraps a
hand around Erica's wrist, taking them across town to where he knows Peter
should be waiting. Depositing the girl in the other man's hands, he teleports
back into the clearing, this time on the other side. He sees Derek looking
around for him, obviously bewildered by his sudden disappearance, and laughs at
his expense. "Do we really have to go through this again, Derek?" he asks,
alerting the alpha to his new whereabouts. "I mean, I'd be happy to beat some
more sense into you, but it didn't really go that well for you last time, now,
did it?"
Derek spins around on his heel, intent on leaping forward for another attack,
disregarding Landon's taunting warnings entirely. Only the small glimpse he
gets of Stiles' face halts his actions. The teen looks terrified, his eyes wide
as he shakes his head. He settles instead for a vituperative tirade. "What the
hell is your problem, Landon?! I don't get what Jeremy or I did that was so
damn bad it caused you to become so fucking hateful!" Spittle flies from his
mouth by the end of his outburst. He has to dig his claws into his palms to
stop himself from leaping for the man again like he so desperately wants, the
pain helping to keep him grounded enough that he refrains from the questionable
move.
Looking deeply amused by the harsh words, Landon runs a hand through his
spiked, ice-blond hair and decides to humour his nephew. "It's nothing specific
that either one of you did," he explains, beginning to pace. "You both just got
on my nerves for as long as I can remember. Luckily, Jeremy's overconfidence
and his true lack of prowess with his powers made it easy to take him down and
steal them for myself. You'd probably be even easier if I really felt like
ending our game now, but you know I'm enjoying teasing you far too much to
snuff out your pitiful little existence just yet."
Circling around Landon, Derek keeps a wide berth between himself and the man
the whole time until he is once again standing near his remaining pack members.
The greater proximity helps calm his temper.
Landon watches Derek circle around him with an entertained glint in his eyes
that sparks brighter when he sees the four teenagers take several steps closer
to their alpha as if in hopes of receiving some protection. The sun
disappearing behind a cloud distracts him, causing him to tilt his head back
and stare up at the sky. Mindful of the passing time, he blinks rapidly when a
droplet of rain splashes down into his eye. "The weather is quite fitting,
don't you think?" he asks rhetorically. Not wanting his clothes to become
drenched in the newly falling precipitation, he brings his eyes back down to
look intently at the group in front of him. "I think it's time for me to
enforce your punishment for failing my first game..." His tone seems almost
lethargic, like he is reluctant to carry out his own rules. The small trace of
excitement that creeps out when his eyes flick over to land on Isaac betrays
his disinterested front, however.
Derek throws his arms out wide like a shield, putting himself squarely between
his remaining pack and Landon, muttering out a hushed, "Get out of here," over
his shoulder. When he doesn't hear the sounds of his companions retreating, he
flashes his red eyes in their direction in hopes that they will finally get
moving.
Tossing a squawking Lydia over his shoulder out of deference to her difficult
footwear, Danny grabs one of Isaac's hands with his own free one and follows
his alpha's orders, running as fast as he possibly can, dodging through the
trees and leaping agilely over fallen trunks and obstructing roots. He hears
the sounds of fighting coming from the place he just fled and hopes that Derek
will be able to come out of the brawl unharmed. Lydia's nails dig into his
shoulders as she holds on for dear life. After what feels like hours of
running, he feels Isaac's hand slip out of his own and comes to a screeching
halt, looking around wildly in search of his boyfriend. This abrupt stop nearly
sends the girl on his shoulders flying off into the distance, but his firm grip
around her legs keeps her in place.
"Isaac?!" Danny yells, distraught when he can't catch even the smallest glimpse
of light brown curls. The fact that Stiles doesn't appear to be around either
registers, but only in the furthest part of his mind, the hyperactive teen not
being his priority. The taunting words Landon spoke an hour earlier filter
through his mind, when the man insinuated unpleasant happenings between himself
and Isaac. They make him desperate to locate his partner again and he seriously
considers backtracking for a second when the boy in question comes tearing
through the trees, terror etched into his features.
"Keep going!" Isaac implores, not bothering to stop and check whether or not
Danny and Lydia resume their speedy egress.
Barely getting a second to wonder at Isaac's panicked expression, Landon's
maniacal laughter filters through the trees, echoing in such a way that causes
the sound to appear to come from every direction. Landon should still be in the
clearing they left far behind them, but given that the man has the ability to
teleport, Danny can't be sure. Hazarding that following in Isaac's footsteps is
probably the best option, he hefts Lydia up slightly higher and gets a better
hold on the girl before setting off after his packmate.
All Lydia can do is keep her bruising grip on the boy she's practically
straddling—her penchant for skirts is something she regrets at that moment in
time—as she tries to keep from getting her face scratched up by the many
branches and twigs that blur past her. Isaac only stays within her sights for a
few seconds before he disappears again, the unburdened beta obviously much
faster than his bulkier, weighed-down counterpart. Unlike Danny, concern for
Stiles is prevalent in her mind and she feels his absence deeply, especially
since she knows that everything that's happening is Landon's roundabout way of
getting to him. She cranes her neck around painfully in hopes of catching sight
of flailing limbs or anxiety-ridden features and feels her worry ramp up even
further when she finds nothing but mud-coloured trunks and leaf-covered ground.
Back in the clearing, Derek gasps for breath as Landon's hand is wrapped
tightly around his neck. His back his pressed harshly against the rough bark of
a tree and his feet no longer touch the ground as he is lifted into the air in
a display of Landon's impressive strength. As soon as he had heard the others
make their escape, Landon had leapt after them, intent on getting his hands on
Isaac, his quarry. Derek had intercepted his uncle's attempt, thinking he might
be able to distract the man enough to buy sufficient time for his beta to
escape unharmed. Looking back as his vision starts to blur around the edges, he
knows how foolish he had been. He still doesn't regret trying. The tightening
of the hand around his neck snaps him back into the present and, when he
concentrates, he realises that Landon is talking and probably has been the
entire time.
"I honestly don't know why you even bother trying anymore, Derek... I really
don't," Landon says, watching his nephew squirm without compunction.
"Go. To. Hell," Derek chokes out, allowing the red in his eyes to bleed away
when he figures that fighting back would be a fruitless endeavour. The sounds
of light shuffling and a twig snapping on the other side of the clearing
catches his attention and when he looks over Landon's shoulder covertly, he
feels his heart drop into his stomach. A pair of cinnamon-coloured eyes peer
around a tree, their owner's pale, mole-dotted skin appearing inch by inch as
Stiles steps ever so slowly out from his hiding place. Their eyes meet briefly
before the teen focuses once more on his uncle's broad back. Not wanting to
call attention to Stiles' presence, Derek quickly averts his eyes.
At first, when Derek ordered him to leave, Stiles had obeyed. He'd only made it
a short distance away before realising that abandoning the alpha didn't feel
right at all. Hoping to maybe get the element of surprise, he had sneaked back
toward the clearing on his tiptoes, leaving Danny, Lydia and Isaac to run away
without him. His careful watch of the ground had obviously not been enough to
circumvent his feet's tendency to trip him up, and when he accidentally stepped
on a twig, snapping it, he had frozen, terrified that Landon would appear and
murder him at any second. Luck must be on his side that day, however, because
when he surreptitiously takes a look toward the man, Landon doesn't appear to
have heard the resulting sound. Keeping his footsteps as light as possible, he
creeps closer and closer to Landon, feeling slightly guilty for his
disobedience when he sees how horrified Derek looks at his presence.
The entire time Stiles advances, the silence is filled with another of Landon's
acrimonious monologues. The man sounds every bit like the stereotypical action
movie villain. Letting his powers surge within himself, Stiles clenches his
fist and is satisfied when he feels his eyes change into the newly discovered
golden colour that accompanies their use. He forces what feels like all of his
energy into his hand and smiles when—after unfurling it and holding out his
palm—he sees a sizeable ball of fire sitting in the centre. He is glad his new
powers seem to have given him an immunity to being burned.
Derek watches Stiles bolster himself up, his eyes flicking toward the teen
whenever Landon looks away from his face. He is in awe the entire time,
surprised and pleased at the display of control. It's a large amount of
progress in a short amount of time, one that makes him proud.
Finally throwing caution to the wind, Stiles flings the fireball at Landon,
hoping that it hits its target.
Landon, having not expected the attack, cries out in both shock and pain when
the fireball hits him squarely on the back of his head. His surprise causes him
to slacken his grip around Derek's neck, allowing the alpha to break free.
Falling to the ground in a heap, Derek coughs and draws in deep breaths, trying
to gather himself again as fast as possible in fear of Landon's inevitable
retaliation. He stumbles to his feet and hurries over to Stiles, gathering the
teen up and fleeing the scene. He looks back before they make it past the tree
line and sees Landon batting at his hair frantically, trying to put out the
fire Stiles had started. The smell of burned hair fills the air and he can't
help the small, satisfied smile that appears on his face at the idea of his
uncle getting injured. The thought that this turn of events will most likely
make the man even more cunning and vindictive quickly wipes the expression off
of his face, however.
Derek drags Stiles along behind himself as he runs, mindful to keep his grasp
firm. He's grateful that the teen seems to have found some semblance of
coordination for the time being, since he doesn't trip over anything and seems
to be keeping up relatively well. After several minutes, the trees break and
they reach the main road again. Now that they're out of the shelter of the
trees, they see that the rain is pouring freely, puddles quickly forming and
the dirt-covered ground quickly turning to mud. They find Danny, Isaac and
Lydia all waiting there impatiently. Danny and Lydia are already sat in the
Hawaiian's car with the engine running, but Isaac is stood with his door open,
obviously having been waiting desperately for Stiles and his alpha to appear.
Relief breaks out on his face when he sees the two are OK.
"Let's get out of here!" Derek instructs. He leads Stiles over to the Camaro
but, before he can open the door, Stiles' hand is wrenched out of his own. He
hears several yells and, whipping his head around, he sees that Stiles is now
lying on his back on the muddy ground. Landon is stood over the teen with a
foot on his chest, keeping him down.
"You little shit!" Landon spits at Stiles, his expression feral. A large patch
of his blond hair is completely gone, burned away, and what remains is singed
to an unrecognisable colour. "I guess I underestimated you...but rest assured
that won't be happening again." Removing his foot, he allows Stiles to scramble
to his feet and scamper back over to Derek, whom he hides behind, all
confidence gone. He turns his head slowly to look over at the three teenagers
stood around Danny's car. "Now, let's finally get what I came here for, yes?"
In a flash, he disappears and reappears standing behind Isaac. Easily
overpowering the taller body, he flings the teen to the ground and crouches
over his prone form, holding out a hand and using his stolen powers to prevent
any possible attempts his other victims could make at intervening.
Isaac stares up at Landon with wide eyes that beg for clemency, terrified of
the wildness he sees in the man's own pair. It reminds him a little of the
expression his dad used to get before he would be locked inside the freezer in
the basement of his old home.
Ignoring the many fulminations he hears Derek, Danny, Stiles and Lydia spewing
in his direction, Landon places a hand over Isaac's heart and sends some of his
magic into the teen's body, uttering a quick incantation that causes his victim
to slump back and relax into the ground, paralysed. The spell has become
something of a speciality of his, having had much practice casting it. Task
done, he glances up at Derek and meets the alpha's red-ringed eyes. "I hope
that tomorrow's game goes better than this one did today, Derek, for your
sake...and for Stiles'," he warns, already planning on making the next part of
his scheme even more difficult as punishment for what he sees as that day's
cheating. With that, he teleports one last time, taking Isaac with him.
***** Troublemaker *****
Isaac is startled by the abrupt change in scenery as Landon transports both of
them away from Derek and the others. Looking around as much as he can without
being able to move his head, he notices that he appears to now be in a cold,
grey room. The place is dimly lit and he has to use his enhanced werewolf
eyesight to make out much of anything that's not close. The first thing that
meets his eyes in this new location is Peter's grinning face, causing a
disapproving growl to build in his throat. Suddenly, he is dropped to the floor
as Landon releases him. He barks out a cry of pain when he lands awkwardly on
his hip.
"Do you have to be so rough with them?" Peter asks curiously. While he harbours
a substantial amount of ill feelings toward his nephew and several of his
betas, he is indifferent when it comes to Isaac and feels a tiny bubble of
concern well up in his chest at the somewhat brutal treatment.
Landon tilts his head with interest as he gazes at Peter, his eyes narrowed.
"Not starting to feel sorry for them, are you, Peter?" he asks, not liking the
prospect of his partner in crime experiencing a change of heart.
"Not sorry, as such," Peter sighs, crossing his arms as he watches Isaac's eyes
flick around the room. "I don't really care what happens to them all, so long
as I get what I want. It's just that this one hasn't really done anything to
me, so I kind of want to put him out of his misery quickly." His explanation is
hastily spoken, his growing fear of Landon's unpredictability manifesting
slightly even through he tries to push it down and appear as nonchalant as
possible. He makes a mental note to further practice his control over his
emotions to avoid any more instances of it slipping in the future. He longs for
the days before the fire and his entrapment within his own body, when his
discipline was iron-clad.
Tutting disapprovingly, Landon checks outside at the weather. He is dismayed
when he sees that it is still raining with increasing intensity. "Whatever.
Just don't let your feelings get in the way of doing your job," he instructs,
raising an eyebrow in Peter's direction to make sure his point is understood.
"As much as I like you, if you do let them get in the way, then I'll make sure
you don't get what you're after. Now...I'm going to get some rest; all of this
teleporting is taking its toll and I need to be ready for what I have planned
next." With that, he disappears again, leaving Peter and Isaac alone in the
room.
Looking down at Isaac, Peter shakes off Landon's threat and slides his hands
underneath the teen's arms, dragging him along to rest against one of the
walls. Thinking that his new prisoner will be alright if left there for a few
minutes, he wanders off outside to retrieve another set of restraints from the
car he stole several days ago in a neighbouring town. It's still parked next to
the entrance where he left it. Popping open the boot, he rifles around in its
contents, shoving aside the useless items that are still in there from the
car's true owners. Several old blankets and coats sit on top, all of which he
carelessly tosses aside. They land in a muddy heap on the wet ground. Next
comes what he is looking for: a bag of climbing equipment, from which he
extracts the thick ropes used in the harnesses. Knowing he already has the
wolfsbane required that will ensure no escape back in the room in which he left
Isaac, he slams the boot closed again and heads back.
When he descends the stairs down into the grey room once more, Peter pauses in
the doorway when he sees with deep disapproval that Isaac is no longer where he
left him, propped against the far wall. Dropping the ropes to the floor at his
feet, he listens intently for any sounds that will tell him of the teenage
beta's hiding place. He wonders how it is that Isaac has been able to move.
Stepping cautiously forward, he walks between the many sets of shelves that are
lined up neatly throughout the room, peering around the corners in preparation
for a surprise attack. His eyes widen when he hears the sounds of a shoe
scuffing across the floor coming from behind him. He has no time to react
before pain blooms across the back of his head, accompanied by the sound of
shattering glass.
Isaac winces as he watches Peter fall to his knees, glass shards flying to the
floor around them both. The glass jar he used as his weapon was obviously not
enough to knock the man out. Acting quickly, he aims a powerful kick at the
Hale's head in hopes of finally achieving his goal. He is pleased when Peter
lets out a groan and collapses completely, his eyes closed and breathing even.
Before his captor has a chance to regain consciousness, Isaac grabs the ropes
Peter dropped and uses them to tie the man to the wall, using the metal rings
drilled into the brick to loop it through. Satisfied when, after tugging on it
to test it, the knots in the rope remain in place, he breathes a sigh of relief
at being safe again for the time being.
Imminent crisis dealt with, Isaac takes more time to look around the room and
inspect the ephemera that sits on the shelves. He gets more and more freaked
out when his eyes land on each new object. Everything there looks like
something used in torture, making him infinitely glad that he managed to escape
them being used on him. When he gets to the stairs, he looks one last time at
Peter before heading up them, using an arm to shield his eyes from the rain as
he takes in his surroundings. Nothing about the place looks or feels familiar.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he lets out a stream of angry profanities
when he sees that the shattered screen refuses to light up for his use. Tossing
the device aside, he thinks for a second about what his next move should be now
that calling for help appears to be out. He almost gives up when an idea
strikes him.
Heading back down to the dark room, he stomps angrily over to Peter and, after
taking a moment to talk himself up, kneels down to look through the man's
pockets. Being in such close proximity to Peter makes his stomach turn
unpleasantly, but he pushes through it determinedly. He is about to give this
up as a lost cause when his hand closes around the slim phone in the last
pocket. Pulling it out, he presses the home button and feels his rapid heart
rate ease when he sees the time flashing up at him. Swiping sideways, he thinks
snidely that Peter is an idiot for not putting a passcode on his phone when it
unlocks without any trouble. He goes straight to the contacts and smiles when
he sees Derek's name is there in bold letters. Making the call, he holds the
phone up to his ear as he heads back outside, wanting to be as far away from
Peter as possible. The call is picked up almost immediately.
"Peter?!" Derek screams angrily, his voice coming out slightly warped through
the speaker. "Why the fuck are you calling me?!"
Happy to be in contact with his alpha again so quickly, Isaac smiles into the
receiver before speaking. "Derek? It's Isaac," he says pointlessly, knowing
that his voice would give away his identity but feeling the need to say it out
loud anyway. "I managed to get a hold of Peter's phone."
"Isaac! Thank God, you're OK!" Derek gasps, relief evident in his tone. The
sounds of other people talking in the background can be heard, Danny's voice
louder than the rest.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know why, but whatever Landon did to me didn't last
very long," Isaac explains, leaning back tiredly against the side of the
underground bunker's entrance. "I did overhear him mention something about
being tired and needing to recharge his energy, so maybe all that teleporting
he did made his paralysis spell less effective or something..." The theory is
one that makes sense to him, at least. "Anyway, I managed to knock Peter out
before he could tie me up. So I've now got him tied up instead, but I have no
idea where I am."
Derek makes a contemplative noise. "Alright... Danny can probably track Peter's
phone, so just sit tight and we'll be there as soon as we can," he says, the
sounds of him relaying this plan to his companions following shortly afterward.
"Are the others with you?"
Isaac shakes his head before remembering that he's on the phone and Derek
obviously cannot see the action. "No, they're not. I don't know where they are
either, but I might be able to get their location out of Peter after
some...convincing," he suggests, uncharacteristically gleeful, very much liking
the idea of violently and bloodily laying into the eldest Hale until he cracks.
"I want you to wait until we get there before you do anything," Derek orders,
his alpha status bleeding through even the phone call, wanting to take on the
task himself to spare Isaac the feelings of guilt and regret he thinks the
interrogation will cause in the young beta.
Rolling his eyes, Isaac kicks a small stone he sees on the ground and watches
as it soars away in a large arc. "Fine, I'll wait. Just get here soon," he says
reluctantly before hanging up. Stuffing Peter's phone in his pocket after
checking the time, his eyes land on the car that sits a few feet away. It seems
shiny and new, and he guesses that this must have been the car Peter used to
escape capture when the pack went looking for him a few days ago. Its bright
yellow colour stands out in stark contrast to the deep browns and greens of the
surrounding area. Walking up to the vehicle—grateful that the rain seems to
have finally tapered off—he completes a circuit around it before trying
unsuccessfully to open the driver's-side door. When an attempt at opening each
of the other doors and even the boot ends with similar results, he ends his
inspection of the car and walks bored around the clearing, his feet sliding
every now and then in the mud.
Finally growing tired of almost falling on his face, Isaac checks the time
again on Peter's phone and sees that only fifteen minutes have passed. Deciding
that it'll probably take quite a bit longer before Derek and the others arrive,
he heads back inside the bunker to check on Peter. He finds the man still
slumped over against the wall, hands bound with tight knots above his head. A
fine trail of blood has made its way down Peter's forehead from where the glass
jar must have cut into his skin. He shows no signs of waking up any time soon.
Kicking his calf just to make sure, Isaac is satisfied with Peter's state and
goes back to inspecting the many instruments of torture that line the shelves,
feeling comfortable in doing so now that rescue is on the way. It all ranges
from medieval-looking to modern day.
As soon as he sets down what a previous late night session of browsing the
Internet tells him is a heretic's fork, Isaac hears the sounds of two
approaching engines outside, followed by tyres squelching through the mud.
Dashing up the steps into the light of day, he finds himself nearly knocked off
of his feet when Danny barrels into him and wraps him up in his arms. A wave of
emotion he didn't know was building explodes out of him in a flood of tears
that springs suddenly to his eyes as he holds onto his boyfriend for dear life.
He hears faintly Danny muttering reassurances to him the entire time. Derek,
Stiles and Lydia stand just inside his field of vision, watching the whole
scene with smiles on their faces. He is unsurprised to see that Stiles' is the
widest. Derek's is less of a smile and more of a small upturning of the corners
of his mouth that wouldn't be noticeable if he weren't looking for it.
When he finally pulls himself together again, Isaac draws back from Danny and
wipes at his eyes hastily, embarrassed at his uncontrolled outpouring of
emotion. "Hey, guys," he croaks weakly, his voice rough from his crying.
Stiles breaks away from Derek and Lydia and steps forward to give Isaac a
second hug, which the beta accepts grudgingly, not wanting to be unexpectedly
overcome by tears once more. "I'm glad you're OK," he whispers in Isaac's ear
before releasing him. He pats the taller teen on the back a couple of times
before stepping back to give him some space.
Derek, anxious to speed the rescue of the rest of his pack along, is quick in
his greeting. Since he already seems to have calmed again, a simple squeeze on
Isaac's shoulder is all the comfort he gives, though the relief at his beta
being safe is clear in his eyes. "Is Peter in there?" he enquires, pointing
behind Isaac at the entrance he saw the young wolf rush out of upon their
arrival. When Isaac nods his affirmation, he nods stoically and makes to head
down the steps. The others are hot on his heels, Lydia almost tripping over the
uneven stone. Only Danny's supporting hand prevents her from smashing her face
into the wall and breaking her nose.
A vengeful smile appears on Derek's face when he sees the state his uncle is
in. The man has begun showing signs of regaining consciousness, his nose
twitching and his breathing picking up ever so slightly. When a grimace appears
on Peter's face and a groan of pain escapes his mouth, Derek steps closer and
couches down so that their faces are level as he waits for his eyes to open. He
sees the exact moment Peter realises he's restrained and watches intently as
the hedonistic beta winces and tilts his head back, blinking open his eyes.
They widen in shock when he takes in the bunker's new occupants.
"What the hell...?" Peter says slowly, unable to process the situation in which
he finds himself.
"You should have been faster in tying me up," Isaac comments, causing Peter's
eyes to snap to his. He meets them with a confident smirk.
Rage quickly spreads across Peter's face before he fights the ropes tied around
his wrists. His struggling proves to be fruitless, however, as Isaac's knot
work is exemplary. He gives up shortly and stares up at Derek with open disdain
and barely concealed trepidation. "Well? What are you going to do with me now
you've got me?" he asks, trying and failing to project an air of superiority.
He wishes for Landon to make an unexpected appearance and put a halt to what he
guesses is about to happen.
"That really depends on you, Peter," Derek explains, resting his arms across
his knees. "If you tell us now where Landon is keeping the rest of my pack,
then I'll make this quick. If you try to mess around, though...then I'll gladly
make this more difficult for you as well." He growls the last part, his
vexation at Peter's involvement in Landon's terrorisation causing his usually
carefully restrained primal side to make an appearance.
Stiles watches this exchange silently, Derek's display of anger causing him to
reminisce for a second about the alpha's attitude toward him when they first
started interacting. He steps forward when he sees that Derek's words aren't
having their desired effect. "I'll be helping him, too," he speaks up, breaking
the staring contest between the two Hales. He holds up his hands and allows his
powers to flow through them, making his palms glow bright with heat from which
Lydia, Danny and Isaac all shy away. "I'd think you'd want to avoid anything
that could burn you..." His desire to hurt Peter doesn't surprise him. He's
always known he has almost overbearing protective instincts when it comes to
keeping his friends and family safe and he also knows that if it came down do
it, he would gladly kill to save their lives.
At Stiles' threat, Derek stands up straight again and draws the teen off to one
side. Concern and apprehension paint themselves across his features as he takes
the teen's hands in his own, thankful that their glow goes out immediately.
"Are you sure, Stiles? I'm not sure how I feel about you torturing anybody,
even if it is Peter," he whispers, forgetting temporarily that everyone else
can still hear him, with the exception of Lydia. "That changes a person. You've
been through enough."
Nodding, Stiles squeezes Derek's hands and smiles reassuringly. "I could say
the same about you," he points out gently, smiling. "And I'm sure. If it means
we get the others back then I'm happy to do it," he says, his voice unwavering.
"Are you sure we shouldn't get the cops in on this?" Danny asks uncertainly,
scrunching his nose up in distaste. Since he is still so new to the world of
the supernatural, his first instinct is still to run to the nearest officer of
the law when something like this comes up. He sighs when Derek and Stiles both
shake their heads. "I'm gonna wait outside..." He shifts uncomfortably from
foot to foot before turning away and heading up the steps, not wanting to be
witness to something he knows is necessary but still deems so terrible. He is
pleased when both Lydia and Isaac follow him outside, shutting the heavy, metal
door behind themselves. It squeaks loudly on its rusted hinges.
Releasing Stiles' hands, Derek walks back over to Peter and looks down at him
with judgement clear in his eyes. "So? How are we gonna play this?" he asks,
thinking that he'll be glad to carry out either option.
Peter glares up at Derek and says nothing, making his decision clear.
"OK then... Let's get started," Derek says, turning and retrieving several of
the torture devices he glimpsed when he entered the underground room. He knows
Stiles watches the whole time on bated breath, ready to step in if he ends up
losing his control or will to carry on. He shrugs out of his leather jacket so
it doesn't get dirtied and hands it off to Stiles. "I think we'll begin with
something I know you're familiar with." He holds up a pair of sharp-looking
scissors so Peter can get a good look at them before grabbing one of the man's
hands. "From the way you screamed when the Calaveras did this to you after they
captured us back in Mexico, I'm sure you'll enjoy it." Without preamble, he
tugs the index finger of Peter's right hand between the two blades before
clamping down hard.
Peter yells out his pain as he finger is severed and falls with a small thud
onto the floor. Blood trickles down the stump that is left on his hand.
"You've never told me you were captured in Mexico," Stiles says, pulling Derek
back with a hand around his bicep. "When was this?"
"It happened just after the alpha pack, when I left for South American with
Cora," Derek explains, keeping his voice soothing when he sees the anger
simmering in the depths of Stiles' cinnamon-coloured eyes. "Relax, they didn't
really do much to me. Peter got the worst of it because he couldn't keep his
mouth shut." He is satisfied when Stiles lets out a deep sigh of relief and
releases the tension that had surged through his body at the upsetting
information. Turning back to the heavily breathing man on the floor, Derek
takes in that Peter's hand is now covered in blood, the stump only just
beginning to heal. "Feel like talking yet?" The question appears to fall on
deaf ears as Peter doesn't react in any way. "Alrighty then..."
Two more fingers are swiftly severed, landing on the ground beside the first
one. Soon enough, all of the fingers on Peter's right hand are gone.
Peter grunts through the pain, resolute in his decision not to ruin Landon's
plan. "Y-you bastard... I'll kill you for this..." he gasps out, his words
stuttered and shaky.
"Like you weren't planning on doing that anyway," Derek says derisively, moving
on to Peter's left hand. By this point, the blood steadily flowing from the
stumps of his fingers has begun sliding in rivulets down his arm. "I wonder how
long you can hold out. I'm guessing for a while." One by one, Peter's five
remaining fingers join the other five on the ground. The sounds of dry heaving
make their way into the room from outside, the three teenagers stood out there
obviously unable to handle what they're hearing. Derek feels guilty for putting
them through this torture and revealing to them this side of himself that's
capable of such sadism, but he casts his worries from his mind when he hears
what he thinks is Danny dragging Isaac and Lydia further away from the bunker.
Since Peter still doesn't look like he's going to be giving up any sort of
valuable information, Derek closes the scissors and grips the handle tightly in
his hand. He kicks the other man's legs into the position he wants, feet flat
on the floor, knees bent and sticking up. Without hesitation, he plunges the
scissors into Peter's knee, right behind the cap. The resulting scream is the
loudest one yet, and he is thankful that there shouldn't be any civilians in
the immediate area to overhear it.
"Talk or I'll pop your kneecap off," Derek warns, resisting the urge to twist
the instrument in his hand until he doesn't get an answer. When Peter's lips
remain clamped shut, the man puffing out harsh breaths through his nose as he
bears the pain, he gives into the impulse. On the end of the twist, he pulls
the scissors toward himself deftly, following through with his threat.
Stiles feels his stomach becoming more and more unsettled as he watches the
scene play out. He doesn't let his nausea get the best of him, though, pushing
through it with fierce determination he didn't know he still possessed.
Derek yanks the scissors out of Peter's right knee and plunges them immediately
into the man's left, repeating his motions and popping off his other kneecap.
The scent of blood and tears is almost smothering him, so he breathes through
his mouth to get rid of the majority of it. Peter is outright sobbing by this
point, his breathing choked off as he hiccups and stares with empty eyes up at
the ceiling. Derek slaps him on the cheek to bring him back into the present.
"OK, Peter, this is your last chance to tell us before I let Stiles have a go,"
he says sternly, leaving the scissors embedded in the beta's kneecap.
"Alright, fine! I'll tell you where they are!" Peter yells, trying to stay as
still as possible so as not to exacerbate any of his injuries. "Landon's
keeping them in our old family vault. The one beneath the high school..."
Confused by this new revelation, Stiles is happy that Peter has chosen to speak
up before he had to intervene. He would have played his part without pause if
the man hadn't, but nevertheless, apprehension and reluctance had started to
creep their way into his mind. "Your family has a vault under the school?
Seriously?" he asks disbelievingly, eyebrows raised. "I'm disappointed,
honestly; how cliché is that...?"
Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' disparagement before continuing his
interrogation. "What is Landon planning?" he asks next, ready to twist the
scissors again if Peter goes tight-lipped once more.
Taking several deep breaths to get his breathing back somewhere in the realm of
normal, Peter finally meets Derek's eyes, his bravado gone. "I don't know; he
never tells me more than what he thinks I need to know in that moment," he
explains, leaning his head back against the wall. "I didn't even know we were
going to use Erica in that little game until earlier today. I do know that it
must be something big, though, since he went to get some rest and recharge his
batteries, so to speak."
"What were you going to get out of all of this?" Stiles speaks up when silence
falls over the room.
Peter swallows nervously. "Landon was going to let me kill Derek so I could be
an alpha again..." he mutters, sniffling.
"You'll never stop chasing after power, will you?" Stiles asks rhetorically,
shaking his head in disapproval. He should have known that would be Peter's
motivation. In many ways, the man is as unpredictable as they come, but he
realises now that when it comes to wanting power above all else, Peter is
pretty damned straightforward. "Whatever... Let's just finish this, Derek, and
go get everyone back." The anticipation of a reunion with his dad causes him to
become restless, his heart rate skyrocketing as he finds himself unable to stop
his fingers tapping against his legs.
"You won't be able to get to them just yet," Peter says as he stares longingly
down at his severed fingers, which lay in a pile next to his hip. "It's not
like it used to be where any Hale can open the doors; Landon has both entrances
to the vault spelled shut so only he can get in and out. You'll have to take
him out if you want that spell to disappear..." He finds himself being
forthcoming with helpful information, the hope of his life potentially being
spared circling around his brain. He knows logically that the hope is
pointless, but the torture he just endured has caused his thought patterns to
verge on irrational. Sure enough, after processing his instructions, Derek
steps up to him again and tilts his head up. He knows his life is about to end
when red bleeds into the alpha's eyes and his claws come out.
Letting the change come over him, Derek readies himself to deliver a killing
blow. "Goodbye, Peter. I should have done this a long time ago..." he says
almost sadly. As much as he detests the man, he is still family and the fact
that this has to happen still gets to him. Wanting to get it over with as
quickly as possible, he swings his arm with as much force as he can muster, his
impeccable aim resulting in his claws slicing through the skin of Peter's neck.
More blood flows freely from the fatal wound as Peter chokes on it. It spurts
out in wide arcs that hit Derek squarely in the centre of his chest. The sounds
reverberate throughout the room until they finally come to a stop, the beta's
lifeless body sagging in its restraints.
Instantly seeing how much of a toll having to kill his uncle for a second time
is taking on Derek, Stiles drops the man's leather jacket carelessly onto the
floor and moves closer to the alpha. He wraps Derek up in his arms, not even
bothering to wait until his shift recedes. "It's OK, you did the right
thing..." he assures, running his fingers through the short, soft hairs at the
back of the man's neck. "If you hadn't done it, I would have. He'd done too
much to get away with it all, this time."
Derek nods into Stiles' neck, burying his nose in the pale skin there and
breathing in his comforting scent. It covers the pungent stench of his uncle's
blood almost entirely so that it's barely noticeable. He keeps them both
standing there for several minutes as he takes solace in the teen's presence,
until he feels calm enough to pull away again, the redness of his eyes and his
claws all gone. "Alright... I guess we should try to get Landon, wherever he
is," he says, new determination painting itself across his handsome features.
Stiles follows him as he ascends the stone steps—pausing briefly to pick his
jacket back up—and pushes the heavy, metal door open, stepping out into the
sunlight. The ground is still muddy, but it has started to dry with the late
afternoon heat. "I'm gonna call Chris and see if he's OK with taking care of
everything here..." He breaks off from Stiles and, after wiping the blood on
his hands off on his jeans, pulls out his phone and dials the ex-hunter's
number from memory.
Stiles stares after Derek with affectionate eyes, watching as the man holds his
phone up to his ear and paces back and forth, waiting for the call to be picked
up. He is snapped out of his ogling when he hears footsteps rapidly approaching
and, turning in the direction from which the sound comes, he sees Danny, Isaac
and Lydia striding through the trees and into the clearing. The two betas
obviously heard that they were finished with their interrogation.
"How did it go?" Isaac asks when he comes to a stop next to Stiles. The smell
of blood is heavy in the air, giving him his answer already.
"Pretty well, I guess," Stiles answers, crossing his arms as he goes back to
watching Derek. "He wouldn't talk at first, so Derek had to do some stuff to
make him that I'd rather not get into, but he cracked eventually. Apparently,
their family still has a vault somewhere beneath the high school and that's
where Landon has been keeping the others." Glancing to his side, he sees the
excitement that instantly flickers into being on the other three teens' faces.
"Don't get your hopes up just yet, though. Landon's put some spell on it or
something so that only he can get inside. We'll still have to kill him before
we can get everybody back."
Isaac lets out a disappointed little whine. "Aww, that sucks!" he complains,
cursing Landon's deviousness. "I hope Erica is OK..." When he sees the look of
confusion on Stiles' face, he elaborates. "Remember? Landon said that if we
lost his 'game' then she'd be 'lost to us forever'. I'm worried about what that
could mean..."
Danny pulls Isaac close so their sides are pressed together, his arm wrapped
around the taller teen's waist. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Lydia would know if
anything had happened to her," he assures, satisfied when the redheaded girl in
question nods her agreement. He leans his head on Isaac's shoulder as he waits
for Derek to finish up his phone call.
A few minutes later, Derek rejoins his betas in their little group. "Alright,
Chris says he'll take care of Peter's body and the stolen car. He asked us to
wait for him to get here, though, so we can take him through everything before
we leave," he informs, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and
looking down at his clothes. Now that he can see himself in the harsh light of
day, he finds himself covered in his uncle's blood. The front of his Henley is
completely stained and his jeans haven't fared much better, with four lines of
red smudged down each thigh. "Ugh, I really need a shower and a change of
clothes..."
"Yeah, you kinda do," Stiles agrees, looking down at his own body when he
remembers hugging the alpha back in the bunker. He sees with dismay that
Peter's blood has also gotten on his clothes, though not such a large amount.
He is grateful that Derek chose one of his plain shirts for him to wear that
day so that he didn't end up ruining one of his favourite graphic tees. "And so
do I, apparently. Do you know how long it'll take him to get here?"
"He shouldn't be more than half an hour," Derek says, getting rid of as much
blood as he can from under his nails. "It would be shorter, but he said he has
to get the necessary tools to dispose of Peter's body."
Danny and Isaac both grunt their acknowledgement.
Glancing up at Danny, Isaac and Lydia, who are all still stood in a tight
huddle slightly apart from himself and Stiles, Derek frowns when he notices
that the girl is beginning to shiver ever so slightly and the two beta wolves
look distinctly uncomfortable. He hazards a guess that the reason for this is
because they're still close enough to smell Peter's blood. "Why don't you three
wait in Danny's car?" he suggests, wanting to make this as easy as possible on
the three of them. He watches sombrely as they follow his instruction and tries
to return the small smile Isaac sends his way over his shoulder. He doesn't
think he quite succeeds, but gives himself credit for trying.
Now that Isaac is safe and Peter has finally been taken care of, Stiles takes
the time to properly observe their surroundings. They're in an unfamiliar part
of the preserve, right on the edge of Beacon Hills. The underground bunker
looks something like a storm shelter and, from the short lines of bricks he can
see set into the unusually level ground around the outskirts of the clearing,
he guesses that somebody used to live there. On the drive over, he had thought
it odd that there was an old road leading to the place, but the thought had
been quickly cast aside, his worries for Isaac taking precedent. "What is this
place?" he asks eventually, inspection completed.
"I have no idea," Derek says simply, copying Stiles and looking closely at the
smaller details of the area. "I don't think I've ever been this far out... My
mom was always very strict when it came to the places we were allowed to go
when we were kids. Laura might have come this far out, but I never did. By the
time I got more adventurous and was rebellious enough to disobey her orders,
the fire happened and Laura took us to New York."
"It's funny to think how I've lived in this town my whole life and yet there's
still so much about it I don't know," Stiles muses. His eyes fall on the
blankets that sit in the dirt next to Peter's stolen car. Feeling his legs
growing tired, he heads over to them and unfolds the topmost one, pleased to
find that, although slightly dusty, the fabric is still thick and relatively
soft.
Derek observes Stiles with his brow furrowed in confusion. He walks over to
join him next to the strange vehicle and watches as the teen flings the blanket
out onto the ground, spreading it out so that it's as flat as possible. "What
are you doing?" he asks finally, when his bafflement gets the better of him.
"I'm tired," is all the explanation Stiles offers before he flops himself down
atop the blanket, stretching out his limbs before looking up at Derek with an
eyebrow raised and a smile on his lips. "Since we still have to wait for Chris
to get here, I figured this would be better than just standing around doing
nothing. C'mon!" He sits up and grabs one of the alpha's hands, dragging the
man down to join him on the ground. He struggles to stifle a laugh when Derek
gets his foot clumsily caught on the edge of the blanket and trips, his other
arm flailing out ungracefully as he attempts to break his fall.
"Not funny..." Derek grumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly and trying and
failing to pick up the pieces of his dignity. He lies down on his back, his
hands folded atop his stomach as he stares up at the sky. The sun has just
begun its descent, creeping ever closer to the tops of the trees before
disappearing behind them, casting shadows over the clearing. They lie there in
companionable silence, both now feeling comfortable enough with each other that
nothing needs to be said. After a while, the fact that the blood staining his
Henley has begun to dry and crust becomes bothersome and he pulls the fabric
away from his skin in an effort to get rid of the unpleasant sensation. The
action unsticks the cotton from his torso but ends up pulling painfully on the
fine hairs that trail from his bellybutton down below the waistband of his
jeans, causing him to wince slightly at the unexpected feeling.
"It would actually be pretty nice out here, under different circumstances..."
Stiles says quietly, tucking a hand behind his head as he squirms to get more
comfortable.
Derek makes a small noise of agreement, tearing his eyes away from the sky as
he turns his head off to the side. He stares instead at the teen lying just a
couple of inches away. If Stiles feels his eyes, he doesn't show it.
Before long, Stiles' mind begins to wander as he thinks back over everything
that's happened over the past few months. He thinks proudly about how the pack
has grown closer together, morphing into a fully functional, almost familial
unit instead of just being the floundering group of friends and acquaintances
that only came together in times of danger like they were before. "Is it weird
that I've started to feel so protective over all of the others, even Jackson?"
he asks eventually. He senses Derek's eyes but keeps his own averted.
Contemplating the question, Derek looks back up at the sky as he answers. "I
don't think so," he says carefully, choosing his words. He hears the muffled
conversation that was taking place a short distance away within Danny's car cut
off abruptly and makes mental note to give his betas a talking to about how
eavesdropping is not acceptable. "I mean, yeah, it probably would've been
strange if it started happening before now, but now that there's actually
something going on between us? No, it's not... I remember when I was a lot
younger, I asked my mom one day about something similar. She had always been
the alpha, so she'd always been the main authority figure and the
disciplinarian, whereas my dad always seemed more approachable and comforting."
He pauses in his explanation when the thought that what he's saying may freak
Stiles out and scare him away. He shakes the idea off, putting his trust in the
teen.
"She explained to me that, usually, within a pack there are two figureheads:
the alpha and the alpha's mate," Derek continues. He hears Stiles' heartbeat
and breathing increase beside him, letting him know that the teen is listening
attentively. "Each of them fill a role. One provides physical support and
protection, the other emotional support. I probably should have gone over all
of this before we started our relationship, but I guess it doesn't matter too
much now. Basically, as our relationship progresses, to the betas you'll become
something similar to what my dad was to my siblings and I growing up. You
already cook for us on most pack nights."
Stiles stays silent, thinking over this new information. It stirs something in
his memory. He remembers skimming over something like this when he first began
his in-depth research into the world of lycanthropy after Scott was bitten. "Go
on," he encourages when Derek stops speaking.
Clearing his throat, Derek prepares for the possibility of rejection. He knows
logically that he shouldn't have anything to worry about; Stiles has never
shown himself to be anything other than trustworthy, even when they didn't used
to really get along. Still, his less-than-stellar self-esteem and tendency to
self-sabotage makes him wary. "Basically, you'll be second-in-command. The rest
of the pack will listen to you and feel inclined to follow your orders," he
breathes out in a rush, his nerves causing him to want to get it all out in the
open as fast as possible. "Your protective instincts will only get more
intense; you'll probably even feel the need to step in during Erica and
Jackson's petty arguments, though I wouldn't recommend getting between those
two when they get going." He lets out a chuckle at the many memories he has of
the pair roughhousing. He's had to replace his coffee table on more than one
occasion.
"I kind of already do," Stiles admits slowly, his cheeks becoming ruddy with
embarrassment. "And I kind of...I kind of feel like telling them off whenever
they pick on Isaac, even though I know they're only joking around. It's kind of
weird; we're the same age!" He laughs nervously.
"It's natural, I promise," Derek assures, turning on his side and leaning on
his elbow with his head in his hand so that he can see Stiles better.
Stiles sends the alpha a shy smile. "I'll take your word for it," he promises,
sighing. "So...you were saying something about being 'the alpha's mate'? What
does that mean? Is it just us being together?"
Derek swallows apprehensively. "Sort of. It's a little more complicated than
just being together, though," he says, his words whispered to avoid them being
heard by anyone other than the boy lying next to him. Here goes nothing, he
thinks. He looks down at his fingers tangled in the blanket. "Basically,
it...it's something that would usually happen whenever two wolves or a wolf and
human both want it to, and it's binding. Mating is for life and is something
that's typically done during sex. Both partners bite each other, traditionally
somewhere between the neck and shoulder, breaking the skin so that it leaves a
scar." Looking back up gauge Stiles' reaction, he hastens to continue when he
sees the teen's eyes have widened in shock. "The bite wouldn't change you, so
don't worry about that... I would be more of a sign of you belonging to me. The
bite you put on me would also be a sign of me being yours. It wouldn't heal.
Every other werewolf and most other supernatural creatures we'd come across
would know we were mated."
Struggling to comprehend this new information, Stiles is left speechless. He
can see that his continued silence isn't helping Derek's obvious anxiousness,
but he can't bring himself to say even one word.
"We don't have to do any of that, though, not if you don't want to," Derek
promises, mistaking Stiles' silence for him disliking the idea.
Stiles nods jerkily, frowning. He admits to himself that the concept of being
tied to another person for the rest of his life is a frightening one, but he
thinks that only an insane person wouldn't be scared of it, even just a little
bit. The fact that Derek is willing to abstain from participating in something
that seems to be a prominent part of life as a werewolf reaffirms his love for
the man, however, and he takes it as a clear sign of him feeling the same.
Glancing over at Derek, he sees the alpha is biting the nails of the hand not
supporting his head, trying and failing abysmally to hide his worry of being
rejected as his mate. Reaching over, he takes Derek's free hand in his own and
grips it firmly. He watches the alpha regard his movements with thinly veiled
interest as he moves his hand to rest on his chest, just over his heart.
Knowing that Derek can hear his heartbeat anyway, Stiles figures that being
able to feel it as well will only serve to drive his next words home. "You
listen to me, Derek Hale," he begins, smiling when the man's hazel eyes snap up
to meet his own, wide at being addressed with his full name. "Get ready because
this is going to sappy as shit, but I need you to know that I'm serious,
so...yeah. I've been attracted to you physically ever since we met that day in
the woods, when Scott and I went looking for his inhaler. I've liked you as a
person from soon after that, when I began to see beneath the cold exterior you
put up to protect yourself. We've helped each other out every step of the way,
and during that time my feelings for you grew more and more, to a level that
scared me at first. They were more intense than anything I ever felt for Lydia
and I went around thinking that was love for years.
"You're selfless. You're kind, protective, stubborn, hotheaded, brave, quick-
witted, snarky and so adorably shy when it really counts," Stiles says,
counting each attribute off on his fingers, blushing intensely the whole time.
"You're a thousand things and more, and nothing would make me happier than to
be able to call myself your mate."
Derek knows from both his ears and his hand on Stiles' chest that the teen's
heartbeat doesn't falter once during his speech. He marvels at the fact,
wondering what he could possibly have done to have gotten so lucky.
"Are you sure you can take me, though? I'm a handful," Stiles finishes,
grinning devilishly.
"I'm sure," Derek says, unable to stop grinning like an idiot right back at
Stiles. He snorts with amusement and rolls his eyes when he hears a muffled,
"They're so freaking cute!" come from Danny's car, courtesy of Isaac. Both
Lydia and Danny apparently agree. Silently coming to the same conclusion that
they're done talking about their relationship, he and Stiles fall back to lying
quietly side by side on the blanket. The dampness from the ground has begun
seeping through the thick fabric, making the sound of what the alpha assumes is
Chris' vehicle to be well-timed. "Chris is here."
Following Derek's lead and hopping up from the blanket, Stiles balls up the
material and tosses it carelessly in the direction of Peter's stolen car. He
turns back around just in time to see the ex-hunter's large car pull up next to
Danny's. He watches as Derek greets the other man with a cordial handshake and
doesn't miss Chris' eyes as they take in the state of both of their outfits.
"Things got a bit messy, I take it?" Chris asks needlessly, releasing Derek's
hand.
"You could say that," Derek replies, eager to move the conversation along so he
can finally change into a clean set of clothes. "He's in there." He points in
the direction of the bunker, following when Chris immediately heads in its
direction.
Stiles remains above ground, not wanting to see Peter's dead body again. He
knows that ending the man's life was necessary, but hates that death has
started to seem commonplace. He figures that staying away will help to keep him
relatively sane. While he waits for Derek and Chris to get to work, he wanders
over to Danny's car and slides inside the backseat next to Lydia. "S'up?" he
asks casually, obviously having interrupted a deep conversation.
"We were just discussing ways to defeat Landon," Lydia explains, leaning her
head against the passenger seat in which Isaac lounges. "We haven't been able
to come up with much, unfortunately."
"I gotta say, Stiles...I know the two of you liked each other and everything,
but I didn't know that you loved Derek quite that much," Danny comments,
sitting sideways in the driver's seat so he has a decent view of the boy in
question. "I obviously haven't been paying close enough attention."
Feeling himself blush from ear to ear, Stiles looks down at his hands. "Yeah,
well... I didn't know my feelings ran quite that deep until recently, either,"
he mutters bashfully. His eyes narrow when a sudden realisation strikes him.
"And you shouldn't be listening in on private conversations!" He leans forward
and smacks the Hawaiian teen on the back of the head. "Rude. Bad wolf! Bad,
bad, bad!"
Isaac bursts out laughing at this. He is always amused whenever Stiles
reprimands members of the pack as if he's telling off a misbehaving puppy,
unless of course he is on the receiving end. Luckily, it doesn't happen that
often, as he does whatever he can to stay on the flannel-wearing teen's good
side. He attempts to stifle his laughter when Stiles sends a raised eyebrow his
way. The smile remains on his face, though. After how intense the afternoon has
been, it feels good to be able to relax again, letting himself fall temporarily
under the pretence that nothing is wrong and that he's just joking around with
his pack like it's a regular day and no one's life is in danger.
"Derek's calling for you," Danny says to Stiles, rubbing his head and breaking
the relatively contented silence that had fallen over the car.
Stiles cranes his neck around to look out of the rear windshield and sees that,
sure enough, Derek is looking around for him confusedly. Figuring that he'd
better put the alpha out of his misery before he does something stupid, he gets
out of Danny's car and calls out to the man. Shaking his head affectionately
when he sees the palpable relief Derek feels when he lays eyes on him, he goes
over to rejoin his soon-to-be mate. The thought sends a thrill through him. "We
good to go?" he asks when they're next to each other again.
"Yup. Chris said he'll take care of everything, so long as we get Allison back
to him safely," Derek replies, taking Stiles' hand and leading him over to the
Camaro. "Let's get back to your house... I am more than ready to get out of
these blood-soaked clothes."
Making himself comfortable in the passenger seat, Stiles looks over at Derek
and peers more closely at the state of the man's heather grey Henley. "It's a
shame... I think that was one of my favourite shirts of yours," he comments, a
hint of sadness in his voice. "I really liked the zipper." He indicates to the
slightly off-centre zip the runs several inches down from the neckline.
"Weren't you wearing that one that night at the hospital when we were trying to
fight off the alpha pack?"
Derek glances down at himself before he turns the keys in the ignition. "Yeah,
I think I was..." he mutters distractedly, concentrating on manoeuvring his car
through the other vehicles that almost block the path out of the clearing. He
checks quickly behind himself after squeezing between them to see if Danny has
cottoned on to the fact that they're leaving and is satisfied when he sees the
beta's car trailing steadily after his own. He sees Stiles flick on the radio
out of the corner of his eye and sighs deeply as if the cheerful pop music that
blasts out from the speakers physically pains him.
"Oh shush, you don't get to complain after I caught you singing along to Taylor
Swift's Mine," Stiles says cheekily, chucking to himself at the memory.
"She might be a guilty pleasure of mine... Shut up!" Derek exclaims when
Stiles' chuckling turns into full-on gut-busting laughter. He takes one of his
hands off of the steering wheel and flails it blindly in the teen's direction,
pleased when he makes contact with his shoulder in several loud thumps.
Stiles tries vainly to stop laughing. "Alright, alright! I give!" he gasps out,
tears beginning to leak from his eyes.
The atmosphere within the car calms down soon afterward until both occupants
are sitting silently, both happily listening to whatever comes on the radio.
Time seems to pass quickly for once, since, before they know it, Derek is
pulling the Camaro up next to the sheriff's police cruiser in the Stilinskis'
driveway. Danny, Isaac and Lydia come to stop at the curb behind them as they
get out and immediately head inside the house.
"You can have the first shower, if you want," Stiles says graciously, following
Derek up the stairs. A quick check over his shoulder reveals Lydia closing the
door behind herself, the girl being the last one to enter the building.
"Thanks," Derek accepts simply, grabbing a set of clean clothes from Stiles'
dresser and a couple of fluffy towels from the linen closet before heading into
the bathroom and locking the door.
Tugging off his soiled clothes, Stiles leaves them in a pile in the middle of
his bedroom floor and searches inside his chest of drawers for fresh ones. He
dumps his choices atop his bed before sitting and waiting next to them. He
hears the sounds of shuffling and the opening and closing of cupboards and
drawers coming from downstairs and assumes that the other three teens are
raiding his kitchen. His stomach rumbles at the thought, obviously having woken
up again now that he's actually eating as much as he used to. Almost as if they
heard his stomach, Danny and Isaac barge through the door laden down with
several plates of food, a couple of which they hand off to him. He accepts them
gratefully and instantly digs in to the sandwiches and Oreos they brought him,
only feeling slightly self-conscious about being in just his underwear around
the other two.
Isaac watches Stiles closely as they eat. He swallows a particularly big
mouthful before speaking. "I figured you would've hopped in the shower with
Derek," he teases, and mischievous smile appearing on his face when he hears
what sounds like a bottle being dropped in the bathroom. "I know that if it
were Danny in there, I would've been right in there with him almost instantly."
Stiles gapes at Isaac's comment, half an Oreo falling from his mouth back onto
his plate with a wet splat. He wipes at his mouth awkwardly to rid himself of
the crumbs. "I'm not letting the first time he sees me naked be when we're both
covered in his uncle's blood! That would be insane," he explains, shoving the
uneaten cookie back in his mouth in lieu of having to say anything else.
"Makes sense, I guess," Danny agrees, sending his boyfriend a surreptitious
glare for making their friend so obviously uncomfortable. He lets up when he
receives an unrepentant shrug in return.
"Where's Lydia?" Stiles asks eventually, digging into his second sandwich.
"She said she was going to make a start on the dishes that were piling up in
the sink," Danny informs the other teen. "It was getting to be a bit of a mess,
really..."
Finishing up his snack, Stiles puts both of his plates on his nightstand.
"Yeah, well...it's been a bit too hectic lately to worry about keeping the
house clean," he excuses, crossing his legs. Right as he finishes squirming
around to get as comfortable as possible, he hears the shower shut off,
indicating that his turn is coming up soon. He is impatient to get in there and
scrub at his body vigorously to get off all of the blood.
A minute later, the bathroom door opens and Derek walks through the hallway and
into Stiles' bedroom, clad once more in clean clothes. "I made sure to leave
some hot water for you," he says to Stiles shyly, immediately noticing the
teen's state of undress. He feels himself blushing and flashes his red eyes at
Isaac to get the beta to cease his laughing at his expense.
"Thanks," Stiles smiles affectionately. He plants a quick kiss on Derek's
bearded cheek before grabbing his clothes from the bed and scurrying from the
room. Steam still billows out of the bathroom when he enters, the mirror fogged
up. His heart skips a beat when he notices that Derek appears to have drawn a
smiley face in the condensation. He shakes his head fondly at the gesture.
"What a dork..." Turning on the shower, he steps back out into the hall to grab
a couple of towels for himself before hastily closing the door before anyone
has a chance to see him. He lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction when he
finally gets underneath the spray. The water turns pink as it starts cleansing
him. Grabbing the shower gel that sits in the shower caddy, he washes himself
quickly and efficiently. He thinks briefly about skipping his hair since he
doesn't think anything got in it, but he decides to wash it regardless, just in
case.
Stiles begins shivering the second he turns the shower off again and quickly
grabs the towels he set on the toilet seat. He doesn't think he's ever dried
himself so fast before and within a couple of minutes he stands in the centre
of the room, fully dressed. When he reenters his bedroom, he finds it empty.
Frowning in confusion, he sticks his head back out into the hallway. "Derek?"
he calls out, relieved when he gets an answer immediately from downstairs.
Traipsing down into the living room, he finds his three packmates and his alpha
sat around the sofas. Danny and Isaac are of course sat squashed together in
the first armchair, whereas Lydia sits alone in the second. Derek is also on
his own, sitting on the sofa. The alpha pats the seat beside himself in an
invitation that he readily accepts.
"So...has anyone thought of a way to beat Landon yet?" Danny asks the room,
wiggling slightly when Isaac shifts to sit practically in his lap.
Raising his hand slowly, Stiles feels all four sets of eyes flick over to him
immediately. "Actually...I was thinking while I was in the shower," he
explains. "I think I have a plan."
***** Solace *****
Stiles sits forward on the sofa, causing the arm Derek had put around his
shoulders to slide off. He smiles when the alpha rests his hand on his thigh
instead. "Alright," he starts, swallowing convulsively, "this plan is probably
pretty stupid and I'm not even sure if it'll work at all." He turns to look at
Derek. "You know where the entrance to your family's old vault is, right?"
Nodding, Derek tries to remember the last time he visited the place. He comes
up blank. "Yeah, I do. One of them is in the basement of the school and the
other one is beneath the sign in front of the main building," he explains,
scratching the back of his head with his free hand.
"Well, since Landon is the only one who can get in and out of there while his
spell is up, I was thinking that it might be possible to sneak inside right
after he goes in," Stiles says uncertainly, looking between everyone else's
faces to gauge their reactions. He is relieved when he finds intrigue and some
slight awe in their expressions instead of the disapproval and judgement he had
been expecting. "The key to beating him seems to be catching him off-guard...
When he was strangling Derek back in preserve earlier, I was able to burn him
slightly since he didn't know I was there. I could sneak up on him. I figure
that we might be able to at least get a couple more of the pack back before he
notices what we're up to. We might also be able to use Peter's death in some
way to make him careless."
Derek contemplates this theory with an open mind, weighing its pros and cons.
On the one hand, the idea of sending his remaining pack members right into the
lion's den is one he feels the need to vehemently protest against. However, the
plan sounds logical enough that it could prove to be successful. He decides
that the risk is one worth taking, not wanting to waste any more time and give
his last remaining uncle a chance to harm any of them more than he already has.
"Alright...that sounds like as good a plan as we can hope for," he accepts, not
missing the way Stiles' face lights up just a little bit at his approval. "I'm
assuming we have at least a few hours to kill until Landon makes his next move,
so...what does everyone feel like doing?"
"There's not really much we can do right now, anyway, so why don't we just try
and relax as much as possible. Maybe stick on some shitty film and save our
energy?" Stiles suggests hesitantly, happy when his idea is met with resounding
support. "Alright, well...you guys pick something. I'm gonna get us some
snacks." With that, he leaves the four others in the living room and heads off
into the kitchen, making a beeline for the pantry to browse through the various
junk foods that are kept there. He doesn't hear any footsteps following him, so
he is surprised when a set of arms loop themselves suddenly around his waist
from behind, causing him to let out the most unmanly squeal he has ever heard.
The sound of deep chuckling tells him just who his surprise companion is and,
after huffing with embarrassment, he elbows Derek in the stomach to get his
revenge. "Not funny, Sourwolf..."
Sufficiently winded by Stiles' unexpected retaliation, Derek rubs at his
abdomen and sends a childish pout back in the teen's direction. He doesn't let
up again until he sees the stern expression on Stiles' face slip, revealing the
reluctant amusement beneath. He feels happy that his antics seem to have
lightened the mood at least a little, since that was what he was aiming for.
"Quit goofing off already!" Stiles exclaims loudly, trying and failing to
suppress a laugh. "You're not funny!"
"Your laughter would suggest otherwise..." Derek replies cheekily, snatching
the bags of snack food Stiles has in his hands and taking them back through to
the living room. When he returns to the kitchen, he sees the teen has begun
loading up a small tray with five glasses, which are all filled with various
sodas and juices. He spies that one of the glasses is filled with water just
for him, since Stiles knows he's not too fond of overly sweet things. The
teen's familiarity with the pack's tastes obviously prevents him from needing
to enquire about what everybody would prefer. This realisation makes him even
more certain that he couldn't have chosen a better mate. Seeing an accident
waiting to happen—many a glass has been broken in the kitchen of his old
loft—he gently pushes Stiles aside before the teen can attempt to lift the tray
and takes on the duty himself, balancing it on his palm effortlessly.
Stiles scoffs as he follows Derek through to the living room. "Show off..." he
whispers, knowing full well that the alpha can hear him. When he takes his seat
on the sofa, he sees that everyone has already helped themselves to the snacks
he chose, none of it remaining on the table for his own consumption. Lydia sits
with a large bag of cheese and onion potato chips in her lap, whereas Danny and
Isaac seem to be trying to bury themselves in the junk food. "So...what did you
end up choosing? And it better not be The Notebook, Lydia, or so help me..."
Lydia shoots Stiles a withering glare. "Don't you worry your pretty little
head, Stiles... I was outvoted immediately by those two," she says, her words
dripping with disapproval, as she points over the coffee table at Danny and
Isaac. She munches angrily on a potato chip and keeps her gaze on the two beta
wolves as she accepts the beverage Derek hands her.
"If you were a normal person you'd already be bored of that movie... You must
have seen it a hundred times at least, by now!" Danny defends, meeting Lydia's
eyes coolly.
"Alright, alright, break it up," Derek says wearily, already knowing where this
argument will lead if he allows it to continue any longer. Smiling, pleased
when the two teens seem to listen to him for once, he falls back into his seat
on the sofa next to Stiles, their two drinks in his hands. He hands the teen's
off to its owner after he has gotten comfortable. "Now that we've figured out
what we're not watching, what have you actually decided to subject me to?"
Danny holds up a DVD case for Derek and Stiles to see. "You OK with Mean
Girls?" he asks, grunting when Isaac wiggles next to him and ends up almost
elbowing him in the ribs. He shoots a glare at the curly-haired beta, only
letting up when he gets an apologetic smile in return.
"I've never seen it," Derek admits, rolling his eyes when his answer gets him
several shocked reactions. In fact, Stiles looks like he is personally offended
by the response. He sends a raised eyebrow back at the teen, unimpressed.
"What?"
"What do you mean, 'What'?!" Stiles almost yells, his eyes wide. "You just told
me you haven't seen one of the best films to come out in the last decade! Am I
not allowed to be shocked by that fact?" He shakes his head when his outburst
is met with stony silence. "Honestly...that's one of the first things I'm going
to be rectifying as soon as possible: your lack of knowledge about pop culture.
Unbelievable... With all the references I know you miss, it's almost as if you
just dropped off the face of the earth for a few years. I still haven't
forgiven you for not having watched Friends."
Derek, unsure how to react to Stiles' little tirade, turns his eyes to the rest
of the pack in hopes of finding help or understanding. Instead, he finds almost
equal amounts of judgement on all of their faces. "Seriously? It's not that big
a deal..." he excuses moodily, taking a sip of his drink. "Just play the damned
movie already, if my seeing it is so important to all of you!"
"We're totally binge-watching Friends after this, you know..." Stiles whispers
conspiratorially to Lydia, leaning across the coffee table to snatch a few
potato chips from the bag in the redhead's lap. He returns her devious smile as
he leans back into the sofa cushions and waits for Danny to hit 'play' on the
DVD player's remote. Glancing at the man next to him, he frowns when he sees
Derek's eyebrows are scrunched together with mild irritation, his lips set in a
tight, thin line. He leans into the alpha's side in hopes of getting him to
lighten up. "C'mon, Sourwolf, it's a good film! You'll like it, I promise. It's
from when Lindsay Lohan was actually good and had her shit together." When he
doesn't receive a response of any kind, he narrows his eyes in accusation. "You
do know who Lindsay Lohan is, right?"
Finally tearing his eyes away from the blank television screen, Derek turns to
stare at Stiles, incredulous. "Yes, I know who she is," he explains, not liking
this conversation in the slightest. "Believe it or not, I did keep up with as
much of the news as I could when I was living in New York. And for the record,
I have watched Friends; Cora used to make me watch reruns with her and Laura
all the time. I just haven't seen every episode."
"Well, luckily for you, I have the complete, uncut boxset upstairs in my room
waiting just for you!" Stiles announces, attempting to hide his smirk behind
his drink; it might have been an effective concealment were the glass not
clear. After gulping half of it down, he sets it on the coffee table and turns
fully to face the man next to him. Reaching up with both hands, he cups Derek's
cheeks in his palms and uses his thumbs to contort the alpha's face into a bad
facsimile of a smile. He sighs when his hands are promptly slapped away.
"Seriously, Der, don't look so put out. If, halfway through the movie, you
still don't like it, then we'll shut it off and watch something else, OK? Now,
let me see that smile!" He prods at the man's cheek again. "As hot as your
whole 'broody-Sourwolf' routine is, your smile is the best thing about you, so
come on!" His own face breaks out into a grin when the alpha rolls his eyes and
flashes his adorable bunny teeth briefly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and
the tips of his ears turning pink. "Much better. Now, to the movie!"
Sighing, Derek makes a show of grudgingly wrapping an arm around Stiles,
secretly enjoying the contact. "Fine..." he says eventually, resting his head
atop the teen's as the opening credits of the movie begin to roll. He
steadfastly keeps his eyes glued to the screen when he senses that the other
three members of his pack are all staring at him, no doubt looking to crack a
joke or two at his expense for how easily he'd rolled over for Stiles. Luckily,
no one makes a single comment. Not much is else said throughout the movie's
duration, except for the four teens all quoting dialogue along with the actors
on screen. Eventually, he finds himself beginning to get sucked into the story,
empathising with Cady Heron's confusion about living life as a teenager in high
school. He actually laughs during several parts, though he quickly clamps his
mouth shut every time when Stiles elbows him in the ribs and gives him a self-
satisfied smirk as if to say, "I told you so". He actually jumps when Regina
George gets hit by the school bus, not having expected her to be struck down so
abruptly.
When the movie finally ends, Danny shoves Isaac off of his lap and heads over
to the DVD player, taking out the disc and putting it back in its case. He
glances at the clock that hangs on the wall and is surprised to see how late it
is. "Wow, it's almost ten," he comments, turning and seeing matching
expressions of shock on everybody else's faces.
"Now that I think about it, I am getting kind of tired," Lydia says, yawning as
if to prove her point. She carefully tucks her hair behind her ear before
standing and brushing off the crumbs from her skirt.
"Are we staying here?" Isaac asks, stretching and getting up himself. He begins
to gather all of the rubbish that sits on the coffee table, the empty, balled-
up bags of potato chips and sweets and the odd crushed can of soda or two. He
balances it all precariously atop the tray Derek brought the drinks into the
room with earlier and tries to lift it without spilling it all on the floor. He
ends up being successful, at least for the most part. Two of the scrunched-up
bags end up rolling over the edge, but they are saved from actually hitting the
ground by Danny's quick reflexes. He sends his boyfriend a grateful smile when
the Hawaiian teen puts the rubbish back on the tray.
Danny contemplates the question for a second before answering. "We might as
well," he says, finishing off the last of his drink before following Isaac
through into the kitchen. He glances behind himself when he hears more
footsteps and sees the other two teens trailing after him, leaving Derek alone
in the living room. He doesn't think he can muster up the energy to make the
trip back over to the redheaded girl's house, even though it's not even a five-
minute journey. "I'm too tired to drive all the way over to Lydia's..."
"But all of our things are still over there, right? Like, our toothbrushes and
stuff?" Isaac asks, wanting desperately to brush his teeth to rid them of the
horrible coating he now feels on them from consuming too many sugary snacks and
drinks.
Shaking his head, Danny puts his now-empty glass upside down in the dishwasher.
"No, I put everything in the back of my car before we left this morning. You
got all pissy with me when I asked you to pack it all up again in case we
decided to stay at one of the other houses, remember?" he says, smirking when a
look of realisation appears on Isaac's face before it turns red. He shakes his
head fondly when the taller teen coughs awkwardly and turns away, dumping the
rubbish into the dustbin.
Stiles, overhearing this conversation, frowns when he finds he can't remember
himself nor Derek doing the same. Leaving Danny, Isaac and Lydia in the kitchen
to clean up—rationalising to himself that because he's the one who usually
cooks for everybody on pack nights, with Derek making the others do the washing
up afterward every time, that they won't mind doing it here—he shuffles back
through to the living room and finds the alpha still in his seat on the sofa,
arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted back to rest against the cushions,
eyes closed. He pauses for a second in the doorway and just takes in how
unusually peaceful Derek appears to be. After looking his fill, he makes his
way over to the man. Derek's face turns slightly in his direction as he
approaches, his eyes opening only when the sofa dips slightly under the weight
of a second body.
"Were you listening to them in there?" Stiles asks, tilting his head toward the
kitchen.
Derek nods silently, the corner of his mouth quirking upward slightly in a
tiny, private smile. "Of course," he answers eventually, his voice low and
rumbling, "I'm always listening."
"Right, well...we left our stuff back at Lydia's right?" Stiles enquires,
mimicking Derek's position on the sofa. He huffs out a slightly frustrated
breath through his nose when the alpha nods. Now that he's not focused on the
television screen and is aware of the time, he sees that no light shines
through the curtains from outside, the sun obviously having descended fully
below the horizon a while ago. The lone overhead light is quite dim, the bulb
nearing the end of its life.
"As far as I know," Derek replies, closing his eyes again. "I don't mind
running back over there to get it, though."
Stiles shakes his head before he remembers that Derek can't see the action now.
"Nah, don't bother. I have a pack of new toothbrushes here that we can use for
tonight," he offers, watching impassively as Danny cuts suddenly across the
room and heads out of the front door. He doesn't worry and assumes that the
Hawaiian teen is just collecting the three bags left in the trunk of his car, a
theory that is proven to be correct when the other teen kicks the door closed
behind himself and dumps the bags down on the coffee table. Lydia and Isaac
come through soon after, the latter turning off the kitchen light on his way,
and rifle through their respective bags. They pull out their toiletries and
head upstairs to the bathroom one after the other.
When Isaac comes back downstairs, the first one to be ready for bed, Stiles
reluctantly gets up from the sofa and retrieves some spare sheets and an
inflatable mattress from the linen closet. He hands off the mattress to the
taller teen, instructing him to make space by moving the coffee table up
against the far wall, and nudges Derek lightly on his ankle. He holds up the
sheets in lieu of an explanation to get the alpha to relinquish his spot on the
sofa.
The sounds of deep, gasping breaths fill the room as Isaac attempts to get the
mattress inflated. It only takes a short time for him to accomplish his task, a
feat that Stiles finds impressive, the many memories he has of struggling for
hours on end to do the same thing running through his mind. When he has the
sofa set up as best he can, Stiles stands back to admire his admittedly-shoddy
handiwork. One of the corners of the bottom sheet isn't quite tucked around the
cushion it hugs and wrinkles and deep folds run down the entire length of the
fabric. He figures that if Lydia has a problem with any of that, then she can
fix it herself. He leaves the second set of sheets on the floor next to the air
mattress and drags Derek along behind him upstairs with a hand tugging on the
sleeve of his Henley.
When he passes Danny in the hallway, the Hawaiian teen leaning against the wall
outside the bathroom door as he waits for Lydia to finish up her undoubtably
complicated nighttime routine, Stiles sends him a friendly smile. After
elbowing the door to his bedroom open, he releases his hold on Derek and heads
immediately over to his desk, rifling through the drawers for the unopened
packet of new toothbrushes he mentioned earlier. He tears it open when he finds
it and snags the orange one for himself. Deciding to have a little fun, instead
of letting Derek choose his own, he picks for the alpha, dumping the remaining
brushes back in the drawer as if to hide the evidence. "Here," he says, holding
out his hand. He quirks an eyebrow in amusement when Derek doesn't comment on
his choice. "Hmm, I've never thought of you as a pink kind of guy."
"You should know by now that I'm fabulous," Derek deadpans, keeping his face as
expressionless as possible.
Stiles' eyes widen before his mind catches up to the fact that Derek just made
a joke. He bursts out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, having not expected
it. He pulls himself together once more and just catches the openly
affectionate expression with which the alpha is regarding him before it
disappears, the man's stoic mask sliding back into place. "Whatever, big guy,"
he mutters, picking up his spare tube of toothpaste.
A loud bang signals Lydia's exit from the bathroom. While he waits for Danny to
take his turn, Stiles pokes around in his chest of drawers for an old pair of
sweatpants. He finds a couple balled up in the back of the bottom drawer and
pulls both of them out. After laying them out side by side on his bed to see if
one looks bigger than the other, he hands off the slightly larger pair to
Derek, who accepts them without comment. To pass the time, he stands in front
of his alphabetised, rather extensive DVD collection and scans through the
titles until he reaches the 'F's. Pulling out the heavy boxset of Friends, he
puts it down on his bed next to his sweatpants and pulls off the lid, tipping
out each season until they're spread out evenly. "You are going to love
these..." he comments offhandedly, his eyes flicking up to Derek briefly before
he picks up the first season.
"I didn't realise there were so many seasons..." Derek mutters, a twinge of
fear in his voice, his eyes wide.
Stiles grins evilly at Derek. "Yup, over two-hundred episodes for us to get
through. It's gonna be fun!" he points out, chuckling when the alpha's
expression becomes even more apprehensive. "Relax, Der, I know you'll grow to
love it. It is, after all, the greatest sitcom in existence." His proclamation
is met with a shout of agreement from downstairs. "See? Isaac thinks so, too!"
Derek grumbles something unintelligible before accepting his fate. "Fine," he
sighs. Sensing a chance to escape, he overhears Danny finishing up and takes
his things out into the hall, nearly knocking the Hawaiian boy down in his
haste to enter the bathroom and lock the door behind himself. He hears Stiles
shout, "Rude!" as he leaves, but knows that the teen is only joking. He takes
his time getting ready to go to sleep, using the toilet and brushing his teeth
as slowly as possible. Shedding his clothes, he leaves his maroon Henley on and
decides against throwing his jeans in with the rest of the dirty laundry since
he only wore them for a few short hours. He figures they'll be fine to put back
on the next morning. He marvels for a second at how soft the fabric of Stiles'
sweatpants feels against the bare skin of his legs before shaking his head,
gathering his borrowed things and unlocking the door once more.
If Stiles suspects anything when they cross paths in the hallway a few minutes
later, Derek is grateful when nothing is said. Taking a seat on the bed, he
picks up one of the DVDs the teen has left out almost cautiously, staring down
at the six smiling faces looking back up at him from the front cover. From what
little he remembers of the show, he knows he found it a little amusing in
places. He has just finished putting all of the cases back into their box when
the door swings inwards again.
When he catches sight of what the alpha is doing, Stiles smiles knowingly and
rolls his eyes at Derek before turning off the light, not worrying about
interrupting the man's cleanup since he knows that Derek is fully capable of
seeing in the dark. He yells a tired, "Goodnight!" in the direction of the
stairs before closing the door and walking across the room to stand in front of
the alpha. "Budge over, you grump."
"Only because I want to," Derek responds, kicking back the sheets and sliding
across the mattress so that he's lying close to the wall. He feels the bed dip
when Stiles clambers in next to him and stays on his back, wrapping the
obligatory arm around the other's waist when he feels the teen shimmy closer.
Soon enough, after some snuffling, he feels Stiles' body sag completely,
indicating that he's fallen asleep. Only then does he allow his own eyes to
slip closed.
                                     * * *
- Thursday, January 19th, 2012 -
Derek is startled awake a short while later when he is punched in the face by a
flying fist. Recoiling in shock, he blinks himself into full consciousness
before sitting up and looking around the room for the source of the
disturbance. He is relieved to find that there isn't another presence in the
room besides himself and Stiles, but he feels his heart sink when he sees that
the teen is frowning deeply in his sleep, obviously not dreaming of anything
pleasant. When a soft whimper escapes Stiles' mouth, he leans over and grabs
hold of his shoulders, shaking him gently in hopes of bringing him out of his
apparent nightmare. When panicked, cinnamon-coloured eyes snap open and stare
up into his own, he slackens his grip and breathes out a sigh of relief.
"Stiles?" he asks tentatively, not one-hundred percent certain whether the teen
is actually fully awake yet or not.
Stiles stares up at the figure crouched above him for a second before
registering who it is. "Derek?" he croaks out, endlessly grateful about no
longer being trapped in his sleep. It's a dishearteningly familiar feeling.
"Are you back with me now?" Derek asks quietly, helping Stiles to sit up as
well. He keeps his hand on the teen's shoulder as a sign of comfort and
solidarity and is pleased when he gets a nod in answer to his question.
Shuffling sideways so that their bodies are pressed up against each other, he
reaches over to turn on the lamp that sits on the bedside table. "What were you
dreaming about?" He is nervous about hearing of Stiles' nightmare, since he
knows from asking Scott previously that the subjects of many of the teen's bad
dreams have sounded absolutely horrible.
Inhaling shakily, Stiles leans into Derek's side, resting his head on the
alpha's shoulder before he begins to talk. "It wasn't the worst one I've ever
had, but that's not really saying much," he whispers, his lingering fear
keeping him from raising his voice to anything above that. "My plan worked and
we managed to get inside the vault, but when we got there we found everyone's
bodies inside. They were all mangled and bloody, chained up against the walls
like they were on display in some sick museum exhibit. Then Landon was there...
He took you as well and tortured you right in front of me. I couldn't do
anything to stop him; he was stronger than me and I couldn't get my powers to
work to save you. You woke me up right before he finished..."
Derek's heart clenches almost painfully as Stiles recounts his nightmare. He
understands the teen's vulnerability, knowing that, if he were to dream of the
same thing happening to Stiles, he would probably react the same way. He rubs a
hand consolingly up and down his bedmate's arm and rests his head atop Stiles'
own when he feels the younger man turn slightly, pressing his face into his
neck.
"Thanks for waking me up," Stiles mutters eventually, sniffling slightly as he
finishes pulling himself together. The nightmare has the added shock of being
unexpected. Because of the several undisturbed nights of sleep he has had with
Derek there beside him, being suddenly in the grasp of another bad dream has
shaken him up more than it ordinarily would have.
"Don't mention it," Derek says, his voice a quiet rumble. "I won't let anything
like that happen. You know that, right?"
Stiles nods into Derek's neck, feeling the vibrations of the man's words
through the warm skin of his throat. "I can't help but worry, though. It's my
plan and I can't stop going over all of the different ways it can go wrong. I
know you'll try to keep everybody safe," he swallows nervously, hoping the
alpha won't take offence to his next words, "but Landon's stronger than you
are, considering how quickly he's been able to overpower you. He's probably
stronger than all of us, if you think about how easily he's been able to take
down several members of the pack at once. Plus, he'll probably be even more
ruthless now that we've killed Peter..."
However much he doesn't like his abilities being called into question, Derek
knows there is some truth to Stiles' words. "As long as you come out of it
unscathed, I'll be happy," he says, his voice tight with restrained emotion.
His breath hitches slightly when he feels Stiles lay a light kiss on his neck.
Jerking his head back, he tries to catch the teen's eyes. "Stiles?"
"I think it's time..." Stiles whispers, staring up into Derek's eyes with
slight desperation in his own. His right hand moves up to cup the alpha's
bearded face as he watches realisation bloom on the man's features. "I know I
said before that we weren't going to do anything until this whole thing with
Landon was over, but I don't want to wait any longer."
Laying his own hand over Stiles', Derek leans into the touch. "Stiles...are you
sure?" Nothing would make him happier than to complete his bond with the teen;
he just can't help but worry about Stiles' state of mind, about the possibility
that his fear is clouding his judgement and making him ask for things he
ordinarily wouldn't. The need to know that the teen is one-hundred percent
certain prevents him from immediately giving himself to the younger man. The
thought that three of his pack members are just downstairs also creeps into his
mind, two of whom have rather acute hearing, but he decides that they'll
probably already be asleep. At least he hopes as much.
"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, whether we'll live or die. The
only thing I know for sure is that I don't want to go into it without being
mated to you," Stiles explains earnestly, his voice steady in his conviction.
He is confused for a moment when he suddenly finds himself lying on his back
again, the sheets flung down to the bottom of the bed, but he quickly gets with
the programme when Derek rolls over on top of him and presses their mouths
together. He parts his lips willingly, a small groan rising in his throat when
the alpha immediately thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Giving into Derek's
ministrations, he allows his body to relax back into the mattress and spreads
his legs to allow his wolf to slide in between them. He wraps his arms around
the pleasantly heavy body atop his own, fisting one hand in Derek's silky hair.
The realisation that this is already the furthest he has gone with anybody in
terms of sex fogs his mind with lust.
Derek growls deeply when he feels his groin connect with Stiles' and finds
himself unable to resist as his hips begin moving in steady rolls, grinding
their hard lengths together maddeningly. He stays hovering slightly above the
teen, his forearms resting on either side of his head as he drinks in the tiny
whimpering noises coming from Stiles' mouth. The fact that he can affect the
teen so easily gives him a heady rush of power that goes straight to his cock.
He doesn't think he's ever been this aroused in his life, not even when he was
a teenager getting off for the first time. He winds his fingers through Stiles'
hair, grateful that the teen decided to grow it out some months ago. Many
different possibilities flitter through his mind at this, renewing his interest
in the longer strands and manifesting in a constant rumble that reverberates
through his chest.
Stiles, feeling the vibrations from where his own chest is pressed up against
Derek's, tightens his legs around the alpha's hips, holding him in place as he
bucks up against his body. He quickly works himself up into a frenzy, the
tingling he feels building in the depths of his gut letting him know that he's
getting dangerously close to losing it. Deciding that he doesn't want to come
that quickly and potentially ruin something he's wanted for the longest time,
he breaks the kiss reluctantly and pushes weakly at Derek's firm chest, trying
to get him to back off again.
Acquiescing to Stiles' silent request, Derek levers himself up fully onto his
arms, locking his elbows. He ceases the undulations of his hips, palms pressed
into the pillow as he gazes down at the teen's flushed face in confusion.
"What's wrong?" he asks, worried that Stiles has changed his mind and will ask
him to stop.
"It's nothing. I was just super close to coming and I don't want this to end
just yet," Stiles explains breathlessly, his chest heaving. He tries to gather
himself again now that he has a reprieve. The admission causes his already
florid complexion to darken even further with embarrassment at being so easy to
bring to the edge. He breaks their eye contact, looking off to the side at the
bare wall a couple of feet away, slightly ashamed. Even though he knows and
believes now that Derek loves him, he still can't help but feel concerned about
the man's reaction to his lack of experience. Jackson has broadcast the
information enough during pack meetings in the past, so he knows that the alpha
is aware of his self-defined pathetic and undesirable situation.
Derek, correctly interpreting the sudden uptick in Stiles' heartbeat, cups the
teen's cheek in his hand and turns his face to his own again, quirking an
eyebrow when Stiles still refuses to meet his eyes. "Stiles," he calls, his
voice a combination of begging and fondness. He smiles affectionately down at
the teen when honey-coloured eyes finally flick up to meet his own hazel ones.
"If you're worried about my reaction to your eagerness, you shouldn't be. I
take it as a compliment that I can affect you so easily." His voice now drips
with amusement. He places a tiny, tender kiss on Stiles' lips when he sees
disbelief remain in the teen's eyes. "If you're thinking badly about yourself
because you're a virgin, don't. To be honest, I kind of like knowing that no
one else has gotten the privilege of seeing you like this." When confidence
creeps back onto Stiles' face, his gentle smile turns into something more
predatory that he feels sends shivers through the teen's body. "So...you want
to continue?"
Stiles nods jerkily, surprised when instead of continuing to kiss passionately
like they had been before, Derek leans back so that he's kneeling in front of
him. Before he can voice the myriad of questions forming in his mind, he is
reduced to looking like a gaping imbecile when he sees Derek cross his arms
down over his waist and fist the hem of his Henley in his hands. Time seems to
slow down as he watches, the alpha putting on a show for his eyes only. Each
inch of skin that is revealed just begs to be worshipped, looking unusually
pale in the moonlight. The trail of hair that runs from Derek's bellybutton
down below the waistband of his sweatpants calls to him. Finally, after tearing
his eyes away from the tantalising sight, Stiles watches as the alpha pulls the
last of his shirt off. The triskelion pendant the man still wears constantly
around his neck smacks back down in the centre of his chest, nestling itself in
the hair there. He gets a small peek at the dark hair in the recesses of
Derek's armpits before the shirt is tossed aside, the alpha's arms falling back
down to rest at his sides.
Catching sight of how enraptured Stiles appears to be just from seeing his
naked flesh, Derek stays kneeling in place, allowing the teen to look his fill.
The attention makes him a little shy. He knows that he's conventionally
attractive and he works hard to maintain his body's fitness, but that knowledge
has never fully gotten rid of all his insecurities.
"God, you're so damn beautiful..." Stiles breaths out reverently. The whole
scene feels like an amazing dream, one he's sure he'll wake up from at any
minute to find that Derek isn't really his and never was. The thought makes him
greedy, allowing him to stare unabashedly at the perfect planes of muscle on
display in front of him.
The tips of Derek's ears turn pink at Stiles' praise. He stays silent and
stares down and away from the teen, pleased that his soon-to-be mate likes what
he sees.
Stiles uses his elbows to push himself back up into a sitting position. The
move puts him face to face with Derek again and he chuckles when their close
proximity allows him to see the adorable blush that, because of the low light,
is just barely visible on the alpha's face. He reaches out with a hand toward
the muscular chest in front of him, stopping just short of actually making
contact and instead waiting until his inaction makes Derek look back at him
curiously. He raises a single eyebrow as if to ask for permission to close the
small distance between them both. When the alpha nods dumbly, he tentatively
runs the tips of his fingers along his left collarbone, dipping them into the
slight hollow it creates at the base of the man's strong neck. The tension in
Derek's body seems to seep out all at once, followed by a long, contented
exhale that puffs lightly across Stiles' face.
Growing more adventurous, Stiles uses both of his hands and runs them down the
expanse of Derek's chest, feeling the way the dark hairs tickle the pads of his
fingers ever so slightly. The tips of the digits catch in the golden chain of
the alpha's necklace and he tugs on it to bring the man forward, connecting
their mouths again. It feels strange to be the one in control, if only for a
little while, as Derek appears to be too lost in his fleeting touches to take
the lead himself. He immediately loves the feeling of running his fingers over
the alpha's abdominal muscles, feeling the way they twitch and contract
slightly with each caress.
Finally coming to his senses again, Derek groans into the kiss and grips the
hem of Stiles' shirt, ripping it up and off. He hears the teen suck in a sharp
breath when their naked torsos connect and feels his body shudder with pleasure
as their skin slides together. He bites cheekily on Stiles' bottom lip, pulling
on it lightly before releasing it and leaning back again. "My turn," he grunts,
pushing Stiles backward so that the teen is laid out on the sheets in front of
him. There's so much to take in that he almost doesn't know where to begin, the
miles of pale, mole-dotted skin covering Stiles' still-too-thin frame all
screaming out to be bitten and marked, to be turned red and purple with his
claims. He knows his eyes are beginning to glow their alpha colour when he
hears Stiles' heartbeat increase in its intensity. The front of the teen's
sweatpants is tented out obscenely, revealing how turned on he is. He isn't
faring much better himself, a sticky, wet spot forming where the tip of his own
cock strains against the light fabric of his borrowed sweats, staining it dark.
Derek grows tired of all the remaining clothing being in the way and shimmies
sideways off of the bed. He tugs Stiles' legs around so they hang over the edge
of the mattress and curls his fingers underneath the waistband of the teen's
sweatpants. He waits for Stiles to nervously lift his hips before he slides the
offending material from the teen's slender legs. Stiles' cock slaps loudly
against his stomach as it's freed from its prison before standing up proudly.
Derek only lays his eyes on it for a second before deciding that it's perfect.
A small drop of pre-come is quickly forming at the slit and he can't resist
leaning forward to swipe the fluid up with his tongue. He doesn't remember ever
tasting something so delicious.
Stiles whines at the sensation, the fact that the action is the first time
someone other than himself has touched his cock making it unfamiliar and near
overwhelming.
His own cock becoming painfully hard and feeling restrained within the confines
of his sweatpants, Derek tugs them off hastily and stands up again, freezing
when he hears Stiles choke out a shocked sound.
While he'd known that Derek's cock was of a substantial size from having it rub
up against his own earlier, nothing could have prepared Stiles for actually
seeing it in the dim light of his bedside lamp. It juts out proudly from the
thatch of dense, dark curls at the base. He runs his eyes up and down the
length, taking in every detail. It's thicker and several inches longer than his
own, making for a slightly intimidating sight. The head just barely peeks out
from the hood of the foreskin. He already knew all of this from jerking the
alpha off in the shower back in Oregon, but actually seeing it for the first
time leaves him breathless. Pre-come seems to be dribbling continuously from
the slit, drop after drop hanging down lowly before falling to the floor and
creating a widening puddle. Derek's balls look large and swollen, covered in
fine hairs and no doubt filled with viscous come just waiting to be released.
"Get over here," he manages to get out, his voice hoarse.
Instead of shifting sideways to let him get back up onto the bed, Derek is
surprised when Stiles puts two hands on his hips and halts him after just a
couple of steps. The teen shuffles forward slightly, perching himself on the
edge of the mattress. The new position puts his cock inches from Stiles' face.
He is unable to breathe as he waits to see what the human boy will do next. His
eyes widen in shock when he sees the teen inch forward and take the tip of his
cock inside of his mouth. He feels moist warmth surround the head as Stiles
suckles gently, running his tongue around it and poking it underneath the
foreskin. He catches himself before his hips can thrust forward of their own
accord, not wanting to choke the teen on what he assumes is his first time
giving a blowjob. He lets his eyes slip closed when he feels Stiles hum around
him, the vibrations running up the length of his cock and making his toes curl
against the carpet.
Wanting to provide Derek with as much pleasure as possible, Stiles begins
bobbing his head up and down, taking the alpha's thick cock further into his
mouth each time until it bumps against the back of his throat. He is forced to
pull off when the intrusion chokes him a little, inducing a small coughing fit.
He keeps his hand wrapped around the base and tries again before Derek can ask
whether he's OK, determined to take the alpha in as far as he can. He feels a
strange sense of accomplishment when he manages to get a whole inch further
than he did on his first attempt and smiles around the substantial shaft when
he feels Derek's fingers tangle in his hair.
Derek tips his head back and finds himself unable to stop the loud moans that
pour from his mouth. Stiles definitely lacks some finesse due to his
inexperience, but even so, the blowjob is the best one he ever remembers
receiving, purely because of who is administering it. He feels his balls begin
to tighten, drawing up close to his body as his orgasm rapidly approaches.
Tugging gently on Stiles' hair, he tries to get the teen to cease his efforts,
not wanting to overload him with his release. Stiles, however, stays stubbornly
where he is, increasing the force with which his mouth works, almost as if he
is trying to suck the alpha's come out. Deciding to throw caution to the wind,
Derek allows the teen to continue and bites his lip so hard he tastes blood as
his orgasm reaches its peak. His breath hitches and his body tenses up as he
spurts into Stiles' mouth. His eyes roll back into his head when he feels the
teen swallowing frantically around his cock.
Stiles is surprised when the taste of Derek's come bursts across his tongue. He
doesn't expect there to be so much of it and he has trouble swallowing it all.
It tastes slightly bitter and he isn't sure whether he likes it or not. He
keeps up his efforts anyway. Eventually, though, he fails in his mission of not
letting a single drop escape him and has to draw back, releasing the alpha's
cock from his mouth with a wet pop. The last few pulses of come splatter across
his cheek and lips, the fluid hot like a brand. Licking his lips on reflex, he
runs Derek's come around his mouth a couple of times and finds the taste is
growing on him.
Coming down from his euphoric haze, Derek's chest heaves as he breathes and
swallows tightly and lowers his eyes to stare down at the amazing person before
him. He can't believe his eyes when he sees Stiles savouring the taste of him
and immediately hauls the teen up, kissing him messily. He can taste himself on
Stiles' tongue and, while he ordinarily isn't fond of it, he finds that he
likes it there. It feels oddly right. He licks the last few stripes of his own
release from Stiles' face and feeds it to the teen, who sucks on his tongue
greedily.
When he feels something poking into his hip, Stiles breaks away from Derek and
peers down. He is shocked to find that the alpha's softened cock is beginning
to fill with blood again, alarmingly quickly. "But...you just came," he croaks
out, his abused throat slightly sore from taking Derek so deep.
"The werewolf refractory period is pretty small," Derek explains proudly. He
smirks when he sees the endless possibilities this new information causes to
flash behind Stiles' eyes.
"Oh..." Stiles breaths out dumbly, anxious to move the festivities along and
get to the main event. Still, the sheer size of Derek's cock makes him wonder
if it's even possible to get it all inside of himself. His concerns must show
on his face, because the alpha's hand cups his cheek and gently tilts his head
back up.
"It's OK, Stiles. I won't hurt you," Derek promises earnestly, satisfied when
he sees the teen relax again, even if only slightly. He nudges lightly at
Stiles' shoulders, sending him sprawling backward onto the mattress. "You have
lube, right?" When the teen points to the top drawer of the nightstand, he
pulls it open and rifles around in its contents. It takes him a few seconds to
sort through all the other junk stored there, but finally his hand wraps around
the tube of lubricant. When he sees that it doesn't seem to have been used in a
while, he looks curiously over at Stiles, questioning.
Stiles scratches at the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "I haven't
really been in the mood to use it lately..." he says weakly.
Derek nods his understanding before flipping open the cap. He manoeuvres both
of their bodies so that Stiles is lying down with his head on the pillows and
so he is kneeling between Stiles' spread thighs. He hooks one of the teen's
legs over his shoulder and pushes the other in the opposite direction,
spreading him wide and putting the most intimate part of him on display. He
feels small tremors run through Stiles' body at the exposure and runs his right
hand calmingly over his calf as he slicks up the fingers of his left. "Tell me
if you need me to stop, OK?" he instructs before circling around the tight
pucker of the teen's asshole with one wet finger. Pushing forward slowly, he
sinks the digit in to the hilt, his knuckles pressed up against Stiles' smooth
cheeks. He waits a minute for the teen to get used to feeling before he
withdraws, adding more lube before reentering the tight cavern.
Keeping his movements slow and gentle, Derek is quick to add a second finger,
watching Stiles' face for any signs of pain or discomfort the whole time. He
grows bolder when he sees none, curling his fingers slightly as he searches for
the teen's prostate. Stiles arches up off of the bed with a loud cry when his
fingers find their target, causing a smug smile to form on his lips. He keeps
up his assault on the spot for a while, alternating between rubbing over and
tapping against it lightly and loving how responsive the teen is. Stiles seems
to approve of both methods. Adding a third finger, he scissors them apart to
stretch the teen even further. When he is able to slip a fourth finger inside
without any trouble, he deems Stiles to be ready and withdraws his hand.
Stiles lets out a pitiful whimper when he finds himself suddenly empty. The
feeling of being fingered by someone else had been a strange one at first, but
his body quickly acclimated to the new sensations and he enjoyed it immensely.
He blinks his eyes open when he hears a series of obscene, slick sounds and
watches, enraptured, as Derek stokes himself, liberally covering his shaft with
lube.
Adequately prepared, Derek crawls forward so that he covers Stiles' body with
his own. The position mimics the one in which they started and results in his
cock bumping right up against the teen's entrance. "Are you ready?" he asks
breathlessly, staring deep into Stiles' eyes. When his question gets a nod in
return, he grabs hold of the base of his cock and eases it inside, inch by
inch. It's slow going. He sees the teen begin to wince slightly when he's only
halfway buried and immediately halts his progression, upset at having hurt his
soon-to-be mate.
"Just do it!" Stiles bites out, wanting to get the worst of it over with as
quickly as possible.
Reluctantly following Stiles' instruction, Derek thrusts forward harshly, his
balls slapping against the teen's cheeks as he sheaths himself to the hilt. The
action causing Stiles to clench down and cry out, he runs soothing hands all
over the teen's body, trying to help him relax. He stays there, buried balls-
deep inside, and fights through the instinct to continue thrusting mindlessly.
The sensation of Stiles' ass fluttering around his cock borders on torture.
Eventually, Stiles feels the pain ease off until it's virtually nonexistent,
morphing into a pleasant fullness. "OK, you can move now," he whispers.
Derek groans gratefully as he pulls his hips back, withdrawing his cock until
just the head remains inside. Using Stiles' face as his guide, he pushes
forward again slowly, repeating the movement with more confidence when he
doesn't see even a single twinge of discomfort in the teen's blissful
expression. After a few more thrusts, he changes the angle of his hips slightly
and smirks in triumph when his cock rubs right up against Stiles' prostate.
Nails dig into his back, the teen holding on with a bruising grip as he rides
the pleasurable sensations. Derek loses himself in their lovemaking, not quite
able to believe that it's really happening after so many months of pining. His
wolf rumbles approvingly just beneath the surface of his control the entire
time.
Now fully used to the stretch and to being filled so deep, Stiles clamps his
legs around Derek's waist and digs his heels into the firm globes of the
alpha's ass. "Harder," he rasps, tilting his head back and baring his throat.
A whine escapes Derek's mouth when he catches sight of the long column of skin
before him and he hastens to obey Stiles' command. His hips snap in brutal
thrusts that inch them further up the bed and bangs the headboard against the
wall. He leans down and nibbles on the pale skin of Stiles' neck, listening
appreciatively to the mewling noises the action pulls from the teen's lips. He
feels his fangs descending and releases Stiles from his mouth, not wanting to
pierce the skin prematurely. He keeps his face buried there, though, not
wanting the teen to see him shifted at such an intimate moment.
Stiles feels the fuzzy hair of Derek's sideburns against his neck and frowns in
confusion. He blinks his eyes open and unclamps his hands from the shifting
muscle of the alpha's broad back, moving them up to cup his face instead. He
feels Derek fight against him at first, the thrusting of hips faltering, but he
seems to give up and resign himself to his fate after a few seconds. "Did you
not want me to see you like this or something?" he asks, his confusion growing
even more when the alpha nods in response. He pokes Derek on the nose and
chuckles when he reels back in shock. "You shouldn't be scared of this,
Sourwolf... I love every single part of you and, to be honest, you being all
growly like this does nothing but turn me on even more." He winks.
Derek processes Stiles' proclamation for a second before rumbling, pleased. He
places a fervent kiss on the teen's lips as he resumes his thrusts, making sure
to really grind his cock against Stiles' prostate, almost like a reward for his
easy acceptance.
His cock growing painful in its hardness, Stiles feels his orgasm approaching
again and this time allows it. It comes on quicker than he expects and, before
he can even wrap his hand around his cock, he is thrown over the edge by
Derek's powerful thrusting, untouched, come spurting out against both of their
stomachs.
Releasing a roar when he feels Stiles' ass clench down around his cock, Derek
bares his fangs and finally allows them to sink into the vulnerable skin of the
teen's neck as his own orgasm overtakes him. Blood floods his mouth, his
overzealousness causing him to bite a bit harder than he originally intended.
Stiles shouts hoarsely when pain blooms on his neck, running down across his
shoulder. Strangely, it only seems to heighten the pleasure he feels. He knew
the bite was coming, but it's a shock nevertheless. When his face is pressed
into the skin of Derek's neck by one of the alpha's hands, he remembers their
earlier conversation about having to leave his own mark. Clamping down with his
teeth as hard as he can, he winces slightly at the taste of copper. Sagging
back into the mattress, he releases Derek and looks at his handiwork. A neat
set of teeth marks run in an oval in the skin between the alpha's neck and
shoulder. He feels an odd sense of satisfaction at the sight. Derek's hips have
been slowly moving the entire time, his cock never really withdrawing and
instead just running in tiny circles deep inside of him. His eyes widen when he
realises he can feel the alpha getting steadily bigger. "Derek?" he asks, his
voice cracking with fear.
"I'm so sorry, Stiles... I didn't know, I swear," Derek bites out, unable to
meet the teen's eyes. He stays put as he feels his cock expand, locking them
together.
"You have a knot?" Stiles asks, his words muttered in his wonder. Sure, he's
read some stories in the past about this very thing—he remembers thinking to
himself at the time that he was simply curious—but never in a million years did
he think it was something that was actually possible. "How come you didn't
know? Is it an alpha thing?"
Derek stops running his tongue soothingly over the wound on Stiles' neck and
swallows the blood in his mouth before answering. "I guess partially... I've
heard of werewolves knotting before, but it only happened in rare cases. Maybe
it's a combination of me being an alpha and us mating?" He hates not having a
solid answer. All he knows is that it certainly didn't happen with Kate or
Jennifer, for which he is thankful, his hindsight letting him know it would
have been a grievous mistake to share something so intimate with either of the
deceiving women.
Stiles breathes through the slight burn he feels as the knot reaches its full
size. He keeps as still as possible so as not to jostle it, his body still
getting used to the new development. After a few minutes, when the pain
dissipates completely, he hitches his hips curiously and gasps when he feels
the knot press right up against his prostate, unrelenting. "Holy crap, that
feels amazing!" he practically screams, his voice sounding louder than normal
as it breaks the quiet that had fallen over the room. He keeps his body moving
as he waits for Derek to catch up and move his own. When the alpha begins
grinding his hips as well, the pleasure ratchets up to levels Stiles never
before thought possible until he is left a babbling mess underneath his new
mate. His cock hardens again and a second orgasm is forced from him soon after.
Only then does he stop his movements, his body becoming uncomfortably over-
sensitised. He feels grateful when Derek seems to instantly understand.
Flipping them around deftly, Derek keeps his arms wrapped around Stiles as he
settles into position on his back. The teen is laying atop him, covering him
like a blanket. His cock still jerks deep inside of Stiles' ass, continuing to
shoot long ropes of come. He wonders how long it will last. He can't stop the
contented rumble in his chest as he realises how much the room smells of their
lovemaking, their scents combined so it smells like them.
Sighing happily, Stiles tucks his nose into Derek's neck and just breathes him
in, shifting one arm so the fingers of his right hand tangle in the alpha's
hair possessively. He keeps the other resting against Derek's hip. The feeling
of his mate still shooting inside of him is strange, but he finds he likes it
after a few seconds of contemplation. "Well...that was unexpected," he comments
eventually, breaking the silence. "It was great, though. Ten out of ten, would
do again."
Derek laughs.
                                     * * *
Downstairs in the living room, Lydia remains asleep on the sofa while Danny and
Isaac are cuddled up together on the air mattress. Both betas are wide awake,
with their borrowed pillows pressed tightly against their ears. Isaac opens his
eyes when he thinks he hears the noises from upstairs finally come to an end.
He removes the pillow and tucks it back beneath his head, slowly, in case he is
mistaken. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he is met with nothing but
quiet. "We should've brought earplugs..." he mutters, shaking his head.
***** Infiltration *****
Hours have passed since Peter left the captured pack members in their prison
with Erica slung over his shoulder. The time had been spent trying to console
an increasingly worried Boyd. Cora ended up being the one to get through to the
usually calm and collected boy, the youngest Hale using the close bond they
share that grew from their time spent trapped together under the alpha pack's
tyranny. Though everybody attempts to keep their emotions in check, every
minute that passes by without Erica's reappearance makes them more and more
worried. They distract themselves by discussing anything and everything they
can think of and by playing meaningless word games. I Spy is quickly ruled out
as useless since there isn't much in the room to choose from, causing the few
games they start to come to very quick conclusions.
"What should we do next?" Scott asks everybody, boredom clear in his voice. He
sits with his legs splayed out in front of him, his head leaning back against
the wall since he got tired of holding it up a while ago. "I'm getting bored
again."
Boyd glares pointedly at Scott, annoyed at his apparent lack of concern for his
missing packmate. He allows a deep growl to build in his throat and aims it in
the other boy's direction. "You're such an ass, you know that?" he hisses
bitingly. He is pleased when his criticism wipes the disinterested expression
off of the crooked-jawed teen's face. It is replaced with shock as he stares
piercingly into his widened eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Scott asks, irritation at Boyd flaring up. He
can't believe that he is on the receiving end of such obvious anger, especially
since it comes from someone he has always thought to be unassuming in spite of
his substantial size. The brief thought flits through his mind that he probably
shouldn't be snapping so easily. He boils it down to the situation getting to
him, causing his emotions to float closer to the surface. He feels his eyes
turn from their normal brown colour into bright yellow but can do nothing to
stop them. Honestly, he doesn't even know anymore if he wants to stop the
change in the first place.
"Boys!" John barks loudly, cutting off whatever scathing response Boyd may have
had for Scott. "That's enough! It's bad enough we're all trapped down here; we
don't all need to add to that by turning on each other as well..." He is
satisfied when the reprimand shuts up the two teens and—after both sending one
last glare to the other—they look away from each other and down at their feet
instead, the beginnings of shame on their faces. "That's better. Now, I'm sure
Erica will be fine, and if for whatever reason she's not, you'll be able to
take down Landon in revenge..." He pauses when he realises what he's just said,
his growing acceptance of the supernatural world and its own rules causing a
shift in his previously high moral standards. He never would have considered
killing in the name of revenge to be a viable option before.
All of the wolves in the room shudder suddenly in unison, letting out confused
whines as they stare at each other with fearful, panicked eyes.
"W-what was that?" Jackson stutters, his voice pitched higher than normal. The
only things he remembers feeling during his time down in their prison are
boredom, a numbness in his lower body from lack of movement and a discomfort
from not using a toilet for significant stretches of time. He had gotten used
to all of those as much as he could and had fallen into a state of complacency,
so the wave of intense pain that just flowed through his body for a few seconds
comes as an unwelcome surprise.
Allison looks between the wolves with an equal amount of confusion on her
features. "What was what? What happened?!" she asks, her nerves clear in her
slightly desperate tone.
"I don't know what it was..." Cora whispers, her voice breathless. "I was fine
and then I just felt this pain go through me and-" She cuts off her explanation
as distant memories suddenly flood her mind, from a time years ago when she
felt something similar but at the same time much worse. She hears distantly
someone calling out to her, their voice sounding muffled to her sensitive ears,
and snaps herself out of her reverie. "No, wait...I think I've felt something
like that before, back when most of my family died." The realisation shakes her
to her core, stripping away her usually aloof persona and leaving nothing but
fear in its wake. "I think someone in the pack is dead."
Everyone in the room gasps, shocked and horrified at this news.
"Can you tell who it was?" John asks, scared of the answer in case it turns out
to be Stiles. He doesn't think he can handle losing his son; he knows the loss
will be the final nail in his own coffin.
Cora holds up her palm, indicating that she wants everyone to stay silent for
the time being. She tries to wade her way through the fine threads she can feel
tying her to each of the other pack members. It's a lesson she remembers being
taught by her mother when she was really young, that each werewolf in a pack
will be able to feel some connection to every other member. These connections
vary in intensity depending on how close the relationship is between the two,
and the alpha of a pack can feel everyone at all times. Her thread to Derek is
the strongest, followed by Boyd and Erica. She is relieved to find that her
brother and best female friend are both still alive. She filters through
everybody else in the pack, instantly dismissing the others in the room when
she gets to them as they're obviously all still in the land of the living.
One by one, Cora fearfully checks on everyone else from the pack that isn't in
the room. Her small connections to Stiles, Isaac, Danny and Lydia are all still
intact. Her last connection is severed, revealing the identity of the newly
deceased pack member. "It's Peter," she says finally, unsure of how she feels
about the turn of events. Her feelings for the eldest Hale have been somewhat
muddled ever since she returned from South America. On the one hand, she feels
sadness for his death since they were related and there was never any bad blood
between them before his participation in Landon's nefarious plot, at least not
directly. She also feels some of her worry and anger fade away, knowing that
the man cannot bring any more harm to the pack.
"I wonder who did it?" Kira muses, knowing that every person in the pack, both
free and imprisoned, would've delighted in the act.
"I'd guess it was Derek," Jackson says, feeling relatively relaxed again now
that he knows the cause for the previous pain he felt. He is for the most part
indifferent toward Peter's death, though he feels a tiny bit of smugness about
the man finally getting his comeuppance.
"Landon is not going to like this..." Allison points out, shuddering to herself
at the thought of what the man could possibly do if he becomes even more
unhinged than he seems already. "Especially given how infatuated that crazy
asshole seemed to be with his own brother."
"Don't even get me started on how disturbing watching him salivate over Peter
was..." Scott says, feigning throwing up at the memory. Objectively, he could
see himself finding Peter to be handsome in a slightly smarmy way if he were
attracted to men, but he knows he'd be instantly turned off if the man were to
open his big mouth. He figures it's a shame that his personality was so
insufferable. "Does this mean that Derek'll be stronger now?" His question is
met with nothing but confused expressions and silence. "Remember when Deucalion
wanted him to kill all of us? He said that when an alpha kills one of their
betas, they get that power themselves. It's why they were all so strong. Does
that ring a bell?"
Memories jogged, everyone else in the room—apart from the sheriff and Kira—all
recall how horrified they were when they learned of Deucalion's methods the
first time around.
"Mmm, I must've blocked that out..." Allison mutters, shuddering again. "Maybe
Derek'll be strong enough to take on Landon now?" It's a fleeting hope, but one
she clings to nevertheless.
Boyd, his anxiety about Erica's safety temporarily abated, slumps back against
the wall again. He wonders, though, how it was that Cora managed to determine
who had died when everybody else was clueless. Thinking the skill is one that
will definitely come in handy in the future, he turns to the girl in question
and peers at her curiously. "How is it that you were the only one who knew it
was Peter and not someone else?" This question is obviously one that didn't
strike everybody else, given that they all look surprised they didn't think to
ask it themselves.
When she feels everyone's eyes on her, Cora rolls her own before deigning to
answer and put them all out of their misery. "It's pretty simple, really," she
begins, very much liking the fact that the whole room appears to be hanging on
her every word. "I can feel everyone in the pack, whether they're OK or not.
Since I'm a born wolf and the rest of you aren't, it comes a lot easier to me.
My mom taught me and Derek about it. You should be able to learn how to do it,
too, eventually; it'll just take quite a bit longer since you're bitten. I
can't tell where everyone is, though, before you ask. Like right now," she
closes her eyes to help her focus on her pack connections, "I can tell that the
others are all feeling OK and aren't in any danger, and that Erica is
unconscious but not in any pain, wherever she is."
The information causes the other three werewolves in the room to attempt once
more to detect their other packmates, though again they find no success.
"Alrighty then...what should we do now?" Jackson asks, giving up on his own
efforts when he can't even detect the faintest trace of Lydia. "How about a
rousing game of Word Association?"
Figuring that they have nothing better to do, everyone agrees to this
suggestion readily. Soon enough, several rotations are made, though John ends
up sitting out of the game, choosing instead to simply observe everybody else.
The activity seems slightly childish to him and he feels out of place because
of the age difference between him and his teenage companions. The game keeps
going for what feels like hours, though he knows that it's just the lack of
other distractions making time seem to move slower.
"Bird," Scott says, following on from Allison's contribution of, "Wing."
Boyd is next with, "Sky."
"Cloud," Cora offers, looking the picture of relaxed.
Before Kira can follow, another mysterious wave flows through the beta wolves,
bringing the game to a halt. This instantly sets them all on edge again, each
of them dreading the worst as they turn to Cora in search of more answers. She
hastens to assure them that nothing is wrong. "Relax, relax, no one else is
dead," she announces, smirking slightly when she sees her words cause everyone
else to practically deflate, the tension leaving their bodies. Browsing through
her connections to the rest of the pack for a second time, she tries to be as
quick as possible to find the cause of the second, significantly less painful
reaction. The answer both surprises and delights her. "Ooh, you guys are going
to love this!"
Frowning and narrowing his eyes, Boyd stares at Cora as he waits for a proper
explanation. "So? Are you actually going to tell us or...?" he asks, impatient.
"Well...it seems that Derek and Stiles finally got their shit together and
fucked," Cora says bluntly, enjoying the shocked and dumbfounded expressions on
everyone's faces. The sheriff looks particularly surprised. In fact, she thinks
he might just have stopped breathing entirely. "Yup. That second wave we felt
was just our new connections growing to Stiles, the new alpha mate."
"What do you mean? What 'new connection'?" Scott asks, thoroughly confused.
"I thought this might happen when you all told me they finally admitted they
liked each other last week, but I wasn't sure. Since Derek is our alpha, we can
all feel him at least to some degree, correct?" Cora asks, pleased when the
other three wolves nod in response. "Basically, when he and Stiles had sex,
they mated. We always call Stiles our 'pack mom', right? Well, now that's
something of an official title. He's basically second-in-command. While we'll
go to Derek for physical support and protection, Stiles'll probably end up
becoming even more nurturing than he already is. I'm sure Isaac will be happy."
Jackson is aggravated at this new revelation, not looking forward to having to
actually take orders from Stiles, someone he still finds to be so immature and
beneath him.
"Wait, wait, wait! Since when have Stiles and Derek been together?!" John asks,
shocked and a little hurt at not having been let in on this information sooner.
As far as he knew, his son was still pining after Lydia; it also never even
occurred to him that Stiles could be interested in the same sex. The
revelations make him wonder what it is he could have done wrong to have been
shut out of such a big part of his son's life again. Granted, they still aren't
as close as they used to be. He thought they were headed back in that direction
when the supernatural world was revealed to him and Stiles stopped lying about
it all, but with Stiles retreating into himself after the Nogitsune, they
stayed distant. He makes a vow to himself then and there that he'll try to be
more of an active presence in his son's life going forward.
"Oh, did we forget to mention that?" Scott asks stupidly, turning away when
John levels an accusatory glare in his direction. "Don't look at me like
that... I thought you of all people would've been able to figure it out."
Allison has the good sense to look sheepish as she begins explaining. "From
what I've been told, it's only been a few days since they actually got
together," she begins, glancing at the other pack members briefly for
confirmation. "You, Jackson and myself were already here by the time that
happened."
"How...how old is Derek, exactly?" John asks tentatively, already knowing that
there is an age difference of several years between the man and his son. He
thinks he probably wouldn't mind if Derek were the same age, but he isn't sure
how he feels about Stiles dating someone that much older when he himself is
still a teenager. It had been difficult enough seeing past the alpha's tough
exterior to the scared young man that is still there underneath it all,
especially after his arrest record, however blameless Derek may have actually
been for those crimes. The stigma still remains, ever so slightly, and it had
taken a while to accept that Stiles would be spending significant amounts of
time around the older man, regardless of how he felt.
Cora looks slightly confused at this question. "He turned twenty-five last
week," she answers, sensing John's disapproval and not liking it one bit.
"Why?"
"Don't get me wrong; I don't have any issues with Derek now, not after spending
some time around him and seeing how he is with the rest of you," John defends,
choosing his words carefully when he sees the apprehension on Cora's face. He
figures it's understandable considering he's talking about her brother, who is
now her last living relative, at least biologically. "I'm just concerned about
the age difference. Stiles is still underage, after all." He figures his
thoughts are justified, especially because of that last part.
"I guess I can get that," Cora accepts reluctantly, breathing out deeply to
release her pent-up feelings. "But you've got to know that Derek would never
even think of doing anything to hurt Stiles. They've saved each other's lives
countless times already. Plus—even though he doesn't talk about it, not even
with me—I know he still had the same concerns as you do because of what Kate
did to him." Her voice turns into a growl when she says the detestable woman's
name.
Allison winces at the mention of her deceased aunt, the wound remaining fresh.
She still can't believe she was in the dark for so long about Kate's true
colours.
John takes Cora's words in slowly. He doesn't know everything that happened
between Derek and Kate, but he knows enough to put together a decent picture.
He hasn't yet worked up the nerve to ask for clarification. Figuring that now
is as good a time as any, especially since the man in question isn't around to
overhear and intervene, he opens his mouth. "What exactly happened there?
Stiles never told me the full story."
"Derek's never seemed to want to talk about it, but I asked Peter soon after I
was saved from the alpha pack and he told me what he knew," Cora offers,
keeping her voice quiet as if she's sharing a secret, as if there's someone
around that she doesn't want knowing she's spilling it. "Keep in mind, this is
Peter we're talking about, so I'm not sure how accurate everything is...
Basically, Kate posed as a teacher at the high school when Derek was sixteen.
She knew he was a werewolf and she and Gerard planned for her to seduce him.
They wanted him to tell them everything about our family in hopes of getting
something that would help with their plan of killing us all. Derek thought that
he was just insanely lucky to have this attractive, older woman coming onto him
and he played right into her hands."
The memory of Stiles' old chemistry teacher, Adrian Harris, confessing to him
when he was investigating the fire flashes through John's mind, about how the
other man told a mystery woman at a bar about a way to set fires without
leaving any traceable evidence.
"Obviously, their plan worked and they killed most of us before taking off,"
Cora finishes, a hint of sadness laced through her tone. "That's how I know you
have nothing to worry about. Derek has had issues with consent ever since all
of that happened. I know he would never even think of doing anything with
Stiles unless he was one-hundred percent sure Stiles knew exactly what he was
getting into."
The rest of the pack nod along to Cora's explanation of Derek's actions in
agreement, even Jackson, though he isn't quite as enthusiastic about it.
"That's probably why Derek even waited this long before he and Stiles did
anything..." Allison adds, pleased when she sees traces of understanding and
acceptance on the sheriff's face. "Lydia told me a couple of weeks ago that
she's known how Derek feels about Stiles for months."
"Plus, you know Stiles isn't some typical, dumb teenager who's a slave to his
hormones, especially not lately," Scott says happily, feeling good about
everything being out in the open after it was kept a secret from his surrogate
father for so long. "He'd know what he was doing. He trusts Derek implicitly
and that's good enough for me." The thought of Stiles being mated to his alpha
is one that seems strange and foreign to him. Now that his best friend will
become higher up in the pack hierarchy, he doesn't know how to feel, though he
guesses he'll get used to it pretty quickly, given that Stiles has always been
the one to take charge when it came to their friendship, long before any of
this happened.
John leans his head back against the rough wall as he thinks over everything he
has just been told. Annoyingly, it all makes sense to him. "I guess you're
right," he admits, slightly grudgingly. "Now what's all this business about
them being 'mated'? What does that mean? I have a feeling it's not as simple as
them just being together."
"You would be correct in that assumption," Cora says overly politely, casting
her mind back to what little she remembers of the 'mating talk' her parents had
given her as a child. The memories are hazy at best, but there's enough there
for her to be able to offer something substantial. "Being mated links them
together for life. I guess since Stiles is human, it would be possible for him
to be with someone else, but I doubt that'll ever be an issue. As far as Derek
is concerned, Stiles is it for him. Now that they're mated, he can't be with
anyone else. Ever."
"So my seventeen-year-old son is essentially married now, to a twenty-five-
year-old man?" John asks uneasily. He sighs when everyone nods apprehensively,
not doubt wary of his reaction. "Well, it would've been nice if he could have
told me himself, at least..."
Pleased that the sheriff seems to be coming around, if only a little, Cora
decides to offer more words of assurance in an attempt to help him along more.
"Look at it this way: now that they're mated, Derek will be even more
protective of Stiles than he was before," she points out helpfully. "He'll keep
him safe. Though you should probably get used to Derek being around all the
time from now on. I don't think mates, especially new ones, like being
separated for too long. From the way I remember my mom describing it, it can
actually cause physical pain if they're kept apart for too long."
"Sleepovers every night, then," Scott says, missing the exasperated looks that
Cora and Allison send him.
John sighs, not really looking forward to having to get to know his new pseudo-
son-in-law on a more personal basis. He mutters a quiet, "Fantastic..." at this
revelation.
                                     * * *
Stiles wakes just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He feels the surface he
was sleeping on move up and down slowly and blinks his eyes open sluggishly,
brow scrunched up in confusion. It takes him a few seconds to reorient himself
and realise where he is. Remembering what happened the previous night, he
blushes intensely at the memory, lifting his head slowly to peer up at the face
of the man still lying beneath him. He finds any more movement than that to be
impossible when two arms constrict around his waist and back and he both feels
and hears a disapproving rumbling sound come from Derek's chest. The fact that
the alpha is reluctant to let him go even in his sleep makes him feel loved and
cherished. It's a nice feeling. Wiggling in place slightly, he grimaces when he
feels the skin of their stomachs come unstuck, the dried come in the fine hairs
there pulling slightly. The sensation is frankly disgusting.
Deciding that it's probably time to get up anyway, lest Landon get to the
school before they can stake the place out, Stiles pokes Derek lightly on his
left pectoral. When the action doesn't immediately rouse the slumbering alpha,
he chooses to take a more full-on approach. Leaning down to the best of the his
ability, he grins devilishly to himself when he finds his target within reach.
Keeping his eyes locked on Derek's face to gauge is reaction, he clamps his
teeth down harshly on the alpha's nipple. This results in his body being so
tightly squeezed that he honestly fears for his life for a second before he is
released entirely, rolling sideways. He watches curiously as Derek sits upright
in the blink of an eye, his eyes wide and searching for the source of the
disturbance that awoke him.
Confused at finding nothing out of the ordinary in the room, Derek turns his
eyes on the boy beside him. He takes in the self-satisfied smirk on Stiles'
face and instantly knows that he is the culprit. "Is this what I have to look
forward to every morning from now on? You waking me up in every unpleasant way
you can think of?" he asks tiredly, flopping back down against the pillows, an
arm thrown across his eyes.
"Unless you wake up first, basically, yes," Stiles says delightedly, his smirk
softening into a small, contented smile. He winks when Derek moves his arm
slightly and peers up at him with fond irritation in his lone, uncovered eye.
"Hey, you said you could handle me yesterday; you knew what you were getting
into."
"I suppose I did say that... Damn," Derek says jokingly, shifting his arm
sideways so that it lays against the pillow. "What time is it?" He feels lazy
and doesn't want to expend the energy to look over at the alarm clock on
Stiles' bedside table. He rubs absently at his chest with his hand, the sting
of the teen's bite only just beginning to fade. He looks down at it curiously
and sees the tiny indentations Stiles' teeth have made around the raised nub.
He feels his cock twitch the tiniest bit at the sight. He's never been one for
being bitten in the past, but he figures he could grow to like it.
Stiles rolls onto his back and looks over at the clock himself. He is a little
surprised at how early it is. Having a nightmare usually tires him out more,
causing him to sleep for longer. He doesn't feel tired at the moment, so he
figures that Derek's continued presence really is doing him some good. "It's a
little after six. We should probably get moving if we want to get there before
all the teachers and other students start showing up," he suggests, his nerves
from yesterday about his plan beginning to return. He pushes them down as far
as he can, though, deciding to ignore them until later. He figures there's no
point in worrying about something that isn't yet in his control. He would love
to just put all of his troubles out of his mind and choose to spend the day
lounging around in bed with his new mate instead. If only his life was that
easy. Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, he gets shakily to his
feet. His ass twinges with the movement, pleasantly sore from the previous
night's activities. He hears shuffling coming from behind himself as Derek
makes to leave the bed, too.
When he takes his first step over to his dresser, Stiles feels something
trickle down the back of his thighs and squeals at the unfamiliar sensation. It
takes him a second to realise what the liquid is and, when he does, he feels
his face heat up again. He clamps a hand over his ass to prevent any more of
Derek's come from leaking out, clenching his cheeks as an extra precaution.
Using his free hand to fumble around in the topmost drawer, he searches
desperately for any article of clothing he can find before dashing out of his
room and into the bathroom.
Derek watches Stiles go and barely restrains his laughter as the teen's gangly
limbs disappear around the doorframe, his legs bent awkwardly as he crab-walks
from sight. Stiles leaves a trail of pearlescent white come on the floor in his
wake. Like he was expecting, Derek feels his previous need for closeness to his
new mate has kicked up several notches, his chest becoming gripped tightly even
though they're only a room apart, making it a little difficult to breathe.
Sensing that no one else in the house is awake yet and unashamed of his nudity
regardless, he follows Stiles and attempts to turn the handle on the bathroom
door, frowning when he finds it locked, denying him entry. He can the hear the
sound of water running in the sink as he knocks on the dark wood. "Stiles?
C'mon, let me in," he asks, smiling when he hears the teen swear to himself on
the other side. When the lock clicks, he tries the handle again and is pleased
when the door swings open this time, revealing Stiles' panicked face.
"What are you doing?! Get in and shut the door already!" Stiles whispers
harshly, not wanting anyone else from the pack to see him in such a
compromising position. He thinks the other three teens are probably still
asleep downstairs, but he'd rather not risk it.
Stepping calmly onto the coolness of the tiled floor, Derek does as instructed
and closes the door gently behind himself. He notices that the light is
switched on and briefly wonders why before realising that the small, lone
window set into the far wall must not provide adequate light for human eyes to
see clearly, at least not in the early morning. He keeps his eyes averted from
Stiles in deference to his obvious embarrassment, though he does see in his
periphery that the teen is trying his hardest to rid himself of the come that
still leaks out of his ass. He appears to be crouching down slightly in front
of the sink, he legs spread awkwardly as he reaches between them with what
Derek assumes is a wet washcloth. Turning away, he looks down at his own body
and sees the patch of dried come on his stomach which leads down into his pubic
hair and onto his cock. He'd obviously fallen sleep before his knot went down
and the results don't make for a particularly pleasant sight.
"Jesus fucking Christ, how much did you come?!" Stiles exclaims in frustration,
scrunching the washcloth up under the tap to rid it of what has so far left his
body. Every time he thinks he's getting close to finishing up, more of the
stuff leaks out.
Derek feels the tips of his ears turn pink and turns on the shower before he
answers. "I knotted you, Stiles. That generally leads to a lot," he replies
quietly, still not turning around and instead watching the droplets of water
cascade down from the shower head.
Stiles hears the shower turn on behind himself and peers over his shoulder,
halting his cleaning temporarily to look at what Derek is doing. In the bright
bathroom light, he realises that, although this isn't the first time he's seen
the alpha in all of his glory, it is the first time where things are calm
enough for him to take in every small detail. Even though he had his hands on
the man the previous night, this feels different and, for some reason, more
intimate. Derek stands there, seemingly unaware of his eyes as he waits for the
shower to heat up to a comfortable temperature. This gives him more than enough
time to look his fill. Withdrawing his hand from between his legs, his is
dismayed when he feels yet more come slip out and decides to give up, tossing
the washcloth in the sink instead.
Derek hears the tap turn off but stays standing where he is until Stiles gives
him the all-clear to turn back around. He wonders what could possibly be taking
the teen so long.
Paying no mind to the steady trails running down the backs of his thighs,
Stiles tracks his eyes down the entirety of Derek's body, burning every little
thing into his memory and making the most of the remaining downtime they have
before confronting Landon. He never really thought he could find another man
this attractive, but he doesn't mind being wrong in this instance. He steps
tentatively up behind the alpha. The way all of the muscles in Derek's body
tense up as he gets closer tells him that the man is very much aware of what
he's doing. The hair on the back of the alpha's head is ruffled, messed up from
sleep, and he runs his hand through it a couple of times to smooth it back out
to the best of his ability. He pulls his hand away when he feels Derek lean
into the touch and sets both palms on his mate's shoulders instead, liking the
way the muscles twitch under his palms. After he feels Derek relax again, the
tension draining out of the alpha's body, he runs his hands down and traces the
lines of his shoulder blades. Next comes the triskelion tattoo, the black ink
standing out in stark contrast the slight paleness of the skin that surrounds
it. He can't resist tracing all of the curling lines with the tips of his
fingers.
"Stiles?" Derek asks, slightly breathless. He starts to turn his head, only to
stop when the teen behind him makes a disapproving noise in the back of his
throat. Finding the unexpected touches surprisingly arousing, he feels his cock
begin to fill between his legs, curving upwards until it's rock-hard, pre-come
beginning to leak from the slit. It bobs in time with the pulse of his heart.
"Just stay still and let me bask in the glory that is your godlike body, OK?"
Stiles whispers, leaning in close to Derek's ear as he speaks. He teases the
alpha even further by blowing a soft breath against the shell of his ear,
causing a shiver to go through his muscled frame. Satisfied when Derek doesn't
move more than that, he continues his exploration, stepping back slightly and
running his fingers down along the dip of his spine. He fits the tips into the
pair of dimples just above his ass before grabbing a firm hold of the two pale,
hair-dusted globes and squeezing, marvelling at their firmness. The alpha jumps
slightly at his fascinated touch. "Seriously, is there a part of you that's not
made up of just muscle? If there is, I haven't found it yet..." Glancing up
over Derek's shoulder, he sees that the water must have reached a decent
temperature if the steam that steadily rises out of the stall is anything to go
by.
Derek, tiring of Stiles' fleeting touches, stirs into action, spinning around
and grabbing the teen. He drags his alarmed mate forward and pushes him into
the shower, one of his feet catching on the rim of the basin. He panics briefly
when he sees Stiles stumble and leaps forward to save the teen from smacking
his head against the tiles. Crisis averted, he crowds his mate up against the
wall, smirking as a startled squeak escapes Stiles' mouth when the bare skin of
his front connects with the cold porcelain. He rips his triskelion necklace off
over his head and sets it down on the floor just outside the stall. Stepping
closer, sliding the door closed as he goes, he presses his own body tightly
against Stiles', plotting his revenge for the earlier teasing he endured. It's
a bit of a tight fit with two bodies in a shower obviously meant only for one,
but Derek isn't about to complain about his close proximity to his mate. In the
confines of the shower stall, the water hits steadily against his back and he
doesn't really have much room to avoid it. Feeling his alpha instincts build up
inside of himself, he allows them to overcome his inhibitions as he grinds his
cock against Stiles' ass, deliberately slipping it in the crack, which is still
slick with his leftover come.
Enjoying the shocked gasp he gets when the head of his cock catches on Stiles'
puffy rim, Derek finds the teen's hands blindly with his own and lifts them up,
placing them palms-down against the wall. "Keep them there," he breathes,
nibbling on his companion's earlobe for a second. He kicks at Stiles' legs
until they're spread wide before dropping to his knees and pulling the teen's
cheeks apart.
Scrunching up his eyes in pleasure, Stiles chokes out a moan when he feels the
first tentative swipe of Derek's tongue over his abused hole. No doubt sensing
his positive reaction, the slick organ's movements become more confident and
his mouth hangs open stupidly as all rational thought leaves his brain. He digs
his nails painfully into the off-white tiles and hangs on for the ride.
Stiles' ass is still so open from his knot that Derek is able to push his
tongue up inside without any preparation beforehand. All he can taste is his
own come and soon enough his chin and cheeks are wet and messy with the thick
substance. Pulling back slightly, he looks up and sees that the teen has taken
one of his hands off of the wall and is now stroking himself. Displeased, he
slaps Stiles hard on his right ass cheek, eliciting a surprised yelp. "What did
I say earlier? Keep your hands on. The. Wall," he demands, his voice nothing
but a growl. He is satisfied when the teen complies with a frustrated sound,
both hands spread flat above his head once more. Going back to eating Stiles
out, he works his tongue as deep as he can get it as he sucks on the rim. His
facial hair scratches against the sensitive skin of the teen's ass, turning it
red. Soon, he notices that his mate's hips are thrusting slightly, rubbing his
cock up against the wall.
Deciding to be vindictive as punishment for his earlier teasing, Derek grabs a
firm hold of Stiles' waist and keeps him in place. He hears his mate let out a
plaintive whine at the denial and struggles to keep his tongue working around
the smirk that forms on his sticky lips. Sliding the index finger of his right
hand in alongside his tongue, he searches for Stiles' prostate, rubbing and
twisting the digit within the warm channel until a hoarse shout from the teen
signals that he's found his target. He rubs insistently against the little
bump, delighting in the wails of pleasure it drags out of Stiles. The scent of
the teen's pre-come joins the pungency of his own until it's all he can smell.
Unable to move to get himself off lest he disobeys again, Stiles is forced to
rely solely on Derek's skilful ministrations. He hears his own cries become
increasingly desperate, the sounds echoing around the enclosed space until they
can probably be heard throughout the whole house. He can't find the strength to
close his mouth to stop them. When a second finger works its way up inside of
his ass, he feels heat pool deep in his stomach and knows that his orgasm is
fast approaching. Not wanting to let Derek know in case the alpha stops working
his magic, he tries not to let his mewling increase in volume any more than it
already has. When both of Derek's fingers rub particularly firmly across his
prostate, his orgasm finally crests, crashing through him like a tidal wave and
leaving him breathless. He paints the wall in front of himself with strings of
come that run down slowly, his arms stopping the water pouring from the shower
head from hurrying along their descent into the drain. He watches, fascinated,
as his autonomy comes back to him and his breathing begins to return to normal.
Pulling back, Derek wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, cleaning off
most of the come he ate out of Stiles' hole. When he sees the teen's thighs
quaking slightly, he slithers up to his feet again to support him, but is
surprised when he finds their positions suddenly reversed, his back now pressed
against the wall. He can feel the warmth of Stiles' come on his ass.
"My turn..." Stiles croaks out, his voice still sounding slightly off. He takes
Derek's thick cock in his hand and strokes along the length a couple of times,
smiling when he hears the pleased rumble that builds in the alpha's chest at
the action. Looking up at Derek's face, he sees that his head is tilted back,
his eyes closed, his mouth slack. Something catches his eye on Derek's left
shoulder and, pausing in his stroking to look more closely, he is surprised to
see the ring of his own teeth scarred there from when he bit into the flesh
during their lovemaking the previous night. He knows from their talk beforehand
that he should have expected the scar, but after spending so long thinking of
werewolves as being able to heal as quickly as they do without leaving a mark,
the sight is a shock. He traces around the ring with his ringer, flinching away
slightly when Derek jumps and lets out a deep moan at his touch.
Wanting to test out a theory that quickly builds in his mind, he takes one of
Derek's hands and brings it up to his own shoulder, where he knows the alpha's
mark still lingers and always will. Derek watches him with curiosity and a
little impatience, no doubt wondering why he stopped working his hand over his
cock. His theory is proven to be correct when, as soon as Derek's finger
touches the still-healing wound on his shoulder, Stiles feels intense pleasure
radiate out from the spot into the rest of his body. "What the-?" he asks
breathlessly, confused.
"Think of it like any other erogenous zone," Derek explains, his voice the
deepest Stiles ever remembers hearing it. "Only this one is special. Most of
the time, it'll be like any other scar, but whenever I touch it, it'll feel
pleasureful. The same goes for you touching mine."
"Huh," Stiles breathes, at a loss for what else he could say. Instead of
responding properly, he resumes stroking Derek's cock, also leaning forward and
latching his mouth onto the scar between the alpha's shoulder and neck. He
sucks on Derek's smooth skin and smiles when he feels the man's throat work
convulsively against his lips, flicking his thumb over his cock's leaking slit
on every upstroke. This goes on for a while until he feels his mate thrusting
forward. He keeps the circle of his hand still and just lets Derek work himself
to completion. His mouth growing tired, he worries the alpha's skin between his
teeth for a second before pulling off and resting his forehead against the
bruise he just made, looking down between their bodies instead. He watches the
way the tip of Derek's cock peeks out of his hand, the foreskin drawing back
each time, revealing the purpled head that constantly produces drop after drop
of pre-come. He wonders if it's just a werewolf thing to make so much or if
it's because of Derek's alpha status, like his knot.
Stiles can tell from the heaving of Derek's chest that he's getting close, the
hair there matted down with water so it looks darker and thicker. He moves his
hand slightly so that it envelops just the head, providing as much stimulation
as possible to help Derek along. His hand doesn't cover even half of the length
and he wonders how it was that he managed to fit every inch inside of himself
with minimal pain.
When Stiles moves his free hand down to cup his weighty balls, Derek bumps his
head back against the hard tile of the wall and scrunches up his brow. His
mouth opens wide in a loud moan as his orgasm finally hits, string after string
of thick come shooting out of the slit, flying in long arcs that hit the glass
of the shower door. He can't even begin to hazard a guess as to how long it
lasts and finds himself blacking out halfway through, his legs shaking. An
indeterminate amount of time later, he blinks open his heavy eyes when he feels
Stiles continuing to play with his softening, over-sensitised cock. Batting
away the teen's hands weakly, he tilts his head to lay atop his mate's, which
still rests on his shoulder, and feels Stiles lay a gentle kiss against his
mating scar. "The things you do to me..." he whispers, gathering himself again.
He winces when he catches sight of the mess they've made. "We're going to have
to do some major cleanup before anyone else comes in here."
Making a lazy noise of agreement, Stiles lifts his head up and engages Derek in
a languorous kiss. It's full of passion but stays calm and slow, neither of
them possessing the energy at that moment to make it anything more. When he
pulls away, he glances back at the shower door and chuckles deeply. "Yeah... I
guess you still come a shitload even when there's no knot involved," he
mutters, amusement and arousal clear in his voice. It disappears quickly when a
distressing thought enters his mind. "I hope no one heard us."
"If they did, then they'll just have to deal with it. Trust me, I've heard
worse from every single one of them at one point or another..." Derek replies,
shuddering at the unwanted memories that assault his mind.
                                     * * *
An hour later finds the five pack members standing on the street opposite
Beacon Hills High, crouched down around the corner, out of sight. Dark clouds
are thick in the sky, obscuring most of the sun's rays and keeping the
temperature uncomfortably cool. To compensate, everybody is clad in warm
clothing. Isaac has his familiar blue scarf wrapped around his neck, an
accessory that would look pretentious on anyone else but on the beta just looks
adorable. Lydia has even gone so far as to go against her preference for skirts
in favour of a pair of skinny jeans. Stiles sticks out like a sore thumb in his
red hoodie, the zipper done up to just below his collarbones to fend off the
wind. As a counterpoint, Derek has foregone bringing along his leather jacket
and stands there instead in an orange, short-sleeved Henley with his hands
thrust deep inside the pockets of his jeans.
The group parked their two cars a couple of streets over and walked to their
destination. Since he already wasted some of their precious time fooling around
in the shower with Stiles, Derek had been adamant that his remaining three
betas get ready to leave the house as quickly as possible. Lydia was especially
put out by this request, but knowing how important the day is, she acquiesced,
foregoing fixing her hair and makeup. From the way Isaac and Danny seemed to
avoid his eyes, Stiles had known that they'd heard at least a little of what he
and Derek got up to, causing him to flush a deep red that lingered for minutes.
Instead of talking to the two betas and clearing the air, he had coughed
nervously and headed outside to Derek's Camaro to avoid the awkward situation.
Landon has yet to show his face in the area and, soon enough, cars begin
pulling into the parking lot of the high school, filling it rapidly as students
and teachers arrive for another day of learning. It feels strange to all four
of the teens that they aren't among the crowds. Sounds of laughter carry over
on the wind, the civilian life blissfully unaware of the potential destruction
that looms over the pack's heads.
"Alright," Lydia says, breaking the silence, impatience clear in her tone.
"Since there are two entrances to the vault, I think we should split up. Isaac
can go with Derek to the one in the basement." She points to Stiles. "You,
Danny and myself can stay up here and keep watch of the one underneath the
sign." She narrows her eyes at her four companions when none of them move to
follow her instructions, hoping that the threat of being the subjects of her
considerable wrath will finally spur them into action. She is pleased when her
plan proves to be a successful one. Isaac bids a hasty farewell to Danny,
wrapping his scarf around his boyfriend's neck and scuttling off in the
direction of the school. Derek, however, remains in place. She rolls her eyes
when she sees how reluctant he looks to go, no doubt torn about having to
separate from Stiles, even for a little while. She gives him a nudge on the
shoulder. "Go on, Loverboy. Stiles will be fine."
Everything about Lydia's plan screams to Derek that it's wrong. Every fibre of
his being protests to the idea of being apart from his mate, the fear that this
could end up being the last time he sees the teen alive festering in his mind.
Scenario after scenario flashes through his head, detailing all of the horrible
ways this day could end until they're all he can think about. He takes a deep
breath to try and calm himself down before pulling Stiles closer and wrapping
him up in his arms. He buries his nose in the teen's neck and inhales deeply,
committing the intoxicating scent to memory all over again.
Stiles is surprised by the sudden hug but quickly gets with the programme and
returns the embrace, rubbing his hand up and down Derek's back to soothe the
trembling alpha.
Derek scrunches up his eyes and swallows tightly over his fright. He keeps them
standing there for what feels like an inadequate amount of time, only pulling
away when he hears Lydia clear her throat pointedly. He kisses Stiles with all
of the love he can muster, his hands cupping the teen's cheeks, hoping to
convey just how much Stiles means to him with those touches alone.
When the kiss comes to an end, Stiles keeps their mouths connected for a second
longer. "I love you, Sourwolf," he whispers, so quietly that only the alpha can
hear his words. "Stay safe." He plasters on a fake smile when they finally
separate, attempting to project confidence to try and change the vulnerable
expression he sees on Derek's face. He doesn't think he quite succeeds, as the
alpha doesn't seem reassured in the slightest. He pecks one last kiss on his
mate's lips before pushing him gently in the direction to which Isaac had
disappeared, not wanting to leave his packmate alone and without backup any
longer. He watches Derek go, his optimistic front slipping when each step
brings them further apart.
Lydia snorts as she observes the dramatic scene. "You two are going to give me
a stomach ache one of these days, I swear..." she says, the knowledge that
Jackson is somewhere beneath her feet, just out of her grasp, lacing her tone
with the smallest bit of venom.
This doesn't go unnoticed by Danny, who sends the redhead a questioning and
judgemental glance. Hoping to boost their little group's morale, he tries to
steer the conversation to something less serious to break the tension. "So,
Stiles...what's it like to no longer be a virgin?" he asks, wagging his
eyebrows in the other boy's direction. He feels happy for his friend, but
wishes that he hadn't been able to overhear everything as it happened. Still,
it provides ample material with which he can taunt jovially.
Stiles drops his head into his hands and groans loudly at the embarrassing
question. While he was worried about Danny or Isaac bringing the subject up at
some point, he was hoping that he would be able to go about his business for at
least a little while without having to speak of it. When he hears Danny
cackling at his expense, he peers up at the beta from between his fingers, his
eyebrows drawn down into a frown, eyes narrowed. "Oh, shut up!" he exclaims,
not liking being the centre of attention. He is surprised when the Hawaiian
immediately sobers up, his mouth clamping shut to stifle his laughter. He isn't
used to anyone actually listening to his instructions, at least not without
Derek or Lydia backing him up, and he watches with wide eyes as the bulkier
teen touches his own throat and makes a series of choking sounds. "Danny?
What's wrong?"
Finding himself unable to talk or even open his mouth, Danny feels panic build
in his chest as he stares right back at Stiles in disbelief.
"Say something!" Stiles says, not liking the desperation he can see on Danny's
face. He is relieved when the beta finally seems able to open his mouth once
more, gasping in ragged breaths. He thinks he might know the cause of Danny's
sudden silence, but he can't say for sure.
"What the hell was that?" Danny asks, looking between Stiles and Lydia with
confusion. Not being able to talk was a terrifying experience, one that leaves
him slightly shaken. He yanks Isaac's scarf from his neck when the strip of
material suddenly feels constricting.
Lydia makes a contemplative noise, holding her index finger and thumb to her
chin as she flicks her eyes between her two companions. "I think I have a
theory," she begins, leaning back against the concrete wall by which she
stands. "From what I was told this morning, you and Derek mated last night,
correct?" She levels her eyes on Stiles, awaiting a response. When she gets
confirmation, she nods as if she already knew what his answer would be, which
she probably did. "Well, now that you're the alpha's mate, you're second-in-
command, which means that all the betas have to listen to what you say." Her
announcement seems to leave the human teen too stunned to form words, his mouth
working but no sound coming out.
"Jackson's gonna love that," Danny comments, tucking Isaac's scarf into his
back pocket.
"At least that means I can shut his ass up when he starts running his mouth
again," Stiles muses, smiling to himself as he thinks over all the
possibilities this new discovery brings to light. He notices Lydia staring at
him with accusation in her eyes and hastens to clarify his words. "Don't worry;
I won't abuse it...much." With that, he turns back to face the school and
resumes keeping watch for any sign of Landon. By this time, everyone has
cleared out of the parking lot, no doubt sitting in their first lessons of the
day. The weather is still overcast when he glances up at the sky. In fact, he
thinks the clouds have darkened even further than the last time he took notice
of them, a realisation that dismays him greatly and instills in him worry about
possibly facing off against Landon in heavy rain. The last time that happened
wasn't an enjoyable experience.
Danny, growing bored, drags an empty dustbin over and sits atop it, ignoring
the grimace Lydia sends his way. He keeps his ears alert for any suspicious
noises but otherwise pays no attention to the task at hand. "Seriously, though,
how was it?" he asks eventually, breaking Stiles out of his staring.
Stiles looks back over his shoulder at Danny, considering whether or not to
offer a proper answer. He sees from the corner of his eye that Lydia also looks
interested and decides that, fuck it, now that he's actually got something to
share, he might as well brag about it. "Alright, fine... Just don't go
spreading it around. I don't want all of this to get back to Scott or, God
forbid, my dad..." he warns, waving a threatening finger in Danny's direction.
"I think I heard the tail end of it, but it wasn't very clear since Isaac
shamed me into trying not to," Danny cuts in, looking put out at having missed
out on what he thought would've been a lovely free show. "I swear, if I didn't
know for sure how he feels about me, I'd be a little jealous of how much that
boy looks up to you... So, how did it start?"
Making sure that the high school's sign remains in his line of sight, Stiles
clears his throat before answering, keeping his voice quiet the whole time. He
decides not to acknowledge Danny's comment about Isaac's warm and fuzzy
feelings for him. He details everything that led up to himself and Derek having
sex the previous night, from the nightmare that awoke them both to the actual
lovemaking itself. He keeps the specifics as vague as he can, not wanting to go
too far into something he feels should be kept private. Danny and Lydia appear
to hang on his every word, looking sympathetic as he explains what his
nightmare was about and enthralled when he moves on to describe how everything
else went down. They both look surprised when he mentions the knot, a feeling
he can identify with himself.
"Wait...that's an actual thing?" Danny asks, flabbergasted. "I thought it was
just something made up by fangirls in some of the bad fan fiction I've read..."
"Yeah, it came as a surprise to me and Derek, as well. Apparently, he didn't
know it would happen either," Stiles responds, remembering how scared he was
when it first started expanding. "It kind of hurt at first, more than the
initial penetration, but after I got used to it, it just felt amazing!" He
can't help the pleased smile that breaks out on his face. "The aftermath was a
bit gross, though... He came a lot. It got quite messy..."
Recognition appears on Danny's face before he speaks. "Wait, was that what I
smelled in the bathroom this morning? I thought I could smell something like
that, but it was too faint for me to tell for sure," he explains, a little bit
of revulsion in his voice.
Stiles feels his face heat up and is a little surprised that it didn't happen
sooner with the conversation he's been having. "Actually, that was probably
just the result of me and Derek fooling around in the shower before we came
down and woke you all up for today," he says bashfully, looking down at his
hands when he notices the disapproving expressions on both of Danny and Lydia's
faces. "Hey, don't hate! Now that I have him, any excuse I have to get all up
in that, I'm taking it!"
"Understandable," Danny agrees, knowing that if it weren't for Isaac, if he
ever had the chance to get with Derek he would take it in a heartbeat. He
sneaks a peek at the alpha whenever he can, especially if Derek happens to
appear around him shirtless for whatever reason, whether it be because his
shirt was ripped up in a fight or because he just got out of the shower, as he
had on one memorable occasion before a pack meeting began. This is all to
Isaac's dismay, but he knows his boyfriend would be just as guilty if Derek
weren't something of a father figure for him. The topic reminds him of the
first encounter he had with the older man, when he was hiding out from the
police in Stiles' bedroom. He hadn't known that at the time, of course, and it
was only explained to him later on after he found out about the supernatural
and joined the pack. He remembers not believing the other boy's cover story
about Derek being his cousin Miguel, visiting from out of town. He had actually
suspected that something romantic was going on between the two, and now that he
thinks about it he guesses he was just picking up on the sexual tension that
must have been present even then. Stiles had used Derek's perfect body to get
him to agree to hack something on his computer, but what he was supposed to be
looking for, he doesn't remember. It's a memory he looks back on fondly now.
"I take it by your surprise that uh...neither you or Isaac have knotted
before?" Stiles asks nervously, wondering whether he might be overstepping some
unspoken boundary.
Shaking his head no, Danny chuckles at the obvious discomfort the question
brings to Stiles' face. "Nah... Maybe it's an alpha thing?" he theorises,
wondering what it would be like to experience one himself. "Or it only happens
to wolves that are mated or something?"
"Mmm, that's what Derek thought last night..." Stiles mutters, crossing his
arms and going back to observing the school sign. He thinks about maybe doing
some research into the matter if he survives the day. The sensitive and
slightly embarrassing subject matter instantly causes him to rule out going to
Deaton with his questions. He still doesn't trust the man entirely and even if
he did, he doesn't think he'd be comfortable going to Scott's boss. Books and
the Internet are his only two options, really, though he can't help wondering
if Derek's family had some things stored in their vault that he might find
useful. He supposes he'll find out soon enough. His thoughts are interrupted
when he catches sight of movement across the street, between a couple of the
cars in the parking lot. He signals for Lydia and Danny to stay silent as he
waits to see who the culprit is.
Landon's head appears over the top of one of the cars. He seems to be looking
around, checking to see if anyone is in the immediate area that could possibly
see whatever it is he's doing.
"Get down!" Stiles whispers urgently to his companions, crouching close to the
ground and peering around the corner so he has less of a chance of being
spotted. He watches as Landon, seemingly unaware of their presence, walks
quickly across the lot, still keeping an eye out the whole time.
When he reaches the large, stone sign that protrudes obviously from the ground,
Landon does something with his hand that Stiles cannot make out. A faint,
purplish light appears around the sign before disappearing. Stiles thinks this
must be the spell that Peter talked about the previous afternoon. Landon must
have just deactivated it. The sound of shifting stone carries over to where he
spies before the man disappears underground. Wanting to put his plan into
action before Landon has a chance to slip away again—taking his chance of
rescuing his dad and packmates with him—he dashes out from his hiding place and
heads across the road, staying as low as possible should Landon suddenly
reemerge from the vault.
"Stiles!" Danny exclaims, his voice harsh as he tries to get the reckless
teen's attention. He figures it's a good thing no cars are driving along the
road at that moment, since he didn't see Stiles check before he crossed. He
vacillates between going after his friend himself or going to get Derek's help
before deciding that both can be done. He turns to Lydia. "Go and get Derek.
I'm going to make sure Stiles doesn't get himself killed..." With that, he
chases after his packmate, hearing the fading sounds of Lydia's heels clicking
against the concrete as she heads in the other direction. When he reaches the
spot where the high school's sign usually sits, he pauses for a second,
surprised at what he finds there now. The sign has shifted sideways several
feet, revealing a worn set of stone steps that lead down into blackness. He
can't see anything.
Already underground, Stiles breathes as quietly as possible as he tries to make
out where he's stepping. He hadn't given a thought to how he would see down in
the darkness as he was rushing down the steps. Regretting that hasty decision
now, he edges along one of the rough walls, feeling his way forward. Everything
is silent in the room, with no indication that there is another living being in
there, not even Landon. He can make out the outline of what he assumes is a
door a few feet ahead of where he stands. Figuring that this is his best
option, he heads toward it carefully. His light steps echo and his heart races
as he hears another set of footsteps coming from behind himself. Hardly daring
to turn around to face the room's new occupant, he keeps as still as possible
in hopes that whoever it is, they won't notice his presence. The possibility
that they could simply be one of his packmates doesn't enter his mind; he can't
help thinking that he'll end up face to face with a mysterious and deadly third
person they never knew of that has been helping Landon.
Danny has to stand at the bottom of the steps for a few seconds to wait for his
eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. Once they do, he sees Stiles pressed up
against the left wall of a long hallway, looking terrified. He sympathises with
the teen, but can't help the thought that it's his own fault for charging
straight into the lion's den without thinking. Not wanting to startle Stiles
too badly and cause him to make a loud noise, possibly alerting Landon of his
unwanted guests, he calls out to him softly. "Stiles? It's just me," he
whispers, moving closer. He sees the other teen relax slightly before turning
so their eyes meet. Relief is evident in their depths.
Before Stiles can respond, the sound of banging reaches his ears, coming from
behind the door at the end of the hall. This is followed by an angry scream.
Fearing that Landon is about to return, he makes to backtrack, wanting to get
out of there before he is spotted. He barely gets one step away before the door
creaks open. Luckily, the light is dim enough not to reach him or Danny, so
they stay shrouded in the dark.
Getting out of the way, Danny slinks back against the wall next to Stiles, his
werewolf agility making the action soundless. He throws his left arm out across
his packmate's chest to prevent him from moving and blowing their cover as
Landon storms down the hall, his face drawn into a furious snarl. He holds his
breath as the man passes, seemingly unaware that they're there. When the ground
shakes, his blood runs cold when he realises that Landon must have just sealed
them back in. He doesn't breathe again until he can no longer hear their
adversary. "You idiot!" he can't help yelling, upset at Stiles for landing them
both in this dangerous situation.
"Oh, shut up and help me look for the others," Stiles demands, finally moving
away from the wall and heading in the direction of the door. He slows down as
he pushes it open, the hinges squeaking ominously. He dreads what he could
possibly find on the other side. His fears are quickly put to rest, however,
when all that greets him is a series of metal shelving units laden with boxes
of various sizes. He goes to inspect one of them when an unexpected voice makes
him jump, calling his name and causing a startled scream to leave his lips. He
quickly clamps his hands over his mouth to stop any further sounds escaping
before he looks around for the owner of the third voice. Tears of relief appear
in his eyes when they land on his dad, sat in the furthest corner of the room.
He couldn't make the man out at first with how dimly lit the place is. When he
looks more closely, he sees all of his missing friends are also there.
"Dad!" Stiles yells, running over and immediately wrapping the man up in a
tight embrace. He wonders why he doesn't feel his dad's arms hugging him back
and, confused, he pulls away again, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline
when he notices the ropes around the sheriff's wrists. "Hold on." He reaches
and tries to untie the knots, letting out a growl of frustration when his
attempts prove unsuccessful. This forces him to think of another tactic and,
focusing his mind, he carefully controls the fire he conjures up so that it
burns through the rope without injuring the person it holds captive.
John watches his son work in shock, unable to believe what he is seeing. The
other members of the pack had filled him in on Stiles' new powers, but it's
different actually seeing them with his own eyes.
Danny leaves Stiles to save his dad and goes around the room releasing the
other pack members from their own restraints. His hands begin to burn the
instant he touches the wolfsbane-laced shackles around each of their wrists,
but he pushes through the pain. Soon enough, everyone is free, though they're
weak from being exposed to the harmful substance for so long and from
malnourishment. He helps them all get shakily to their feet and begins leading
them out into the hallway one by one. Just as he is wondering how they'll all
get out of the vault again now that Landon has sealed them in, Derek appears,
Isaac and Lydia behind him. "How did you get in here?" he asks, confused. He
was under the impression that only Landon could enter while his spell was
active. "Didn't Landon lock us in again?"
Equally baffled, Derek shakes his head. "Apparently not. He was already gone
when I got here, but the entrance wasn't sealed," he explains, looking over his
shoulder and smiling when he catches sight of Lydia's tearful reunion with
Jackson.
"Yeah... He wasn't very happy. Apparently, Peter was supposed to bring Erica
back here," Scott explains, leaning against the wall to support himself. "When
he saw that she wasn't in the room with us, he demanded to know if Peter had
shown up or not. He got really angry when I told him we felt Peter's death,
knocked over a few things and left. He must have been so angry that he forgot
to seal us in again."
"Wait, Erica isn't here?" Isaac asks, worried. He doesn't remember seeing the
blonde anywhere around when Landon delivered him to Peter yesterday, so he
wonders now where the man could have dumped her. He hopes it's somewhere easy
to find.
Derek, afraid of the possibility that Landon could realise his mistake and
return at any moment, interrupts the conversation, ushering his betas outside.
"Never mind that now... We can talk about it more when we're all somewhere
safe," he instructs, leading Scott and Allison forward with a hand on the
smalls of their backs. "Now, c'mon, let's get you guys out of here so you can
heal up." He stays by the entrance to the vault and watches as Isaac and Danny
escort everyone down the street to their cars. It's only after Lydia and
Jackson leave that he realises he hasn't seen Stiles or his dad at all, so he
goes back underground in search of the lingering pair. He finds them still
wrapped up in a hug in the furthest corner of the room, seemingly unaware of
the rest of the world. Feeling bad about interrupting such a sweet moment, he
nevertheless walks over to them and taps Stiles on his shoulder.
Stiles blinks past the tears in his eyes and peers curiously up at Derek. It
takes him a second to remember why the alpha is there and he only pulls away
from his dad after he does. Coughing awkwardly, he helps the man to his feet
and follows Derek out of the room and down the hallway. The light of the sun
blinds him at first, his eyes having gotten accustomed to the darkness.
As he helps Stiles support his father's weight, Derek feels the sheriff's
critical eyes on him and knows that he's probably in for a good talking to when
they get to safety. He closes the vault before they leave the parking lot so
that everything looks normal again should a civilian walk through the area.
                                     * * *
Their first stop is to Deaton's clinic. The vet gives the werewolves something
to help them recover faster, each of them receiving a shot in the arm that
quickly heals. He informs them all that it will still be several hours before
the betas are once again at full strength. Lydia and Jackson don't look like
they'll be letting each other go any time soon, a feeling that Derek knows he
would share if he were to ever be separated from Stiles in such a horrific
manner. Boyd still looks forlorn because of Erica's absence, making the alpha
resolve to find his lone missing beta as soon as possible. He knows that as
soon as he's gotten everybody settled again, he'll be straight back outside and
scouring the town. Now that she's not hidden behind magic, he figures that
Erica should be a lot easier to find this time around. Even if he isn't
successful, he figures that whatever paralysis Peter had inflicted upon her
will eventually wear off and she'll be able to find her own way back.
Half an hour later, everyone is squished together in the two cars as they drive
over to Stiles' house. The place is really a bit small for them all to stay
there at once, so the new plan is to split the pack down the middle, the second
half staying at Scott's house since his residence is the shortest distance
away. When they pull up outside the Stilinski household, most of the second
group stays outside as they wait for the others to collect their belongings.
Stiles leads the way, followed closely by his dad and Derek.
Derek attempts to keep his distance from the older man as much as possible
while still remaining close to Stiles. It's a difficult feat. When the front
door opens, he instantly knows that something is amiss and, grabbing the back
of the teen's hoodie, he urges Stiles to be quiet as he takes the lead. He is
cautious as he enters the house, the unwanted presence feeling unsettlingly
familiar.
There, sitting leisurely on the sofa, is Landon. His legs are crossed as he
stares up at Derek, seemingly calm. "Hello, Derek. Care to explain to me what
happened to Peter?"
***** Execution *****
Almost as if they sensed Landon's presence, the rescued members of the pack all
burst in through the front door of the Stilinski household. The wolves still
aren't fully recovered and, as a consequence, they aren't even able to flash
their eyes at the intruder, let alone bring forth their claws and fangs. The
fact that Derek has his arms thrust out at his sides to prevent them from
getting any closer is all that stops them from trying to attack Landon
regardless. The betas are forced to settle for growling weakly, the sound not
as menacing as it would normally be, as they lean on each other for support.
Landon watches all of this with an amused smirk that he knows infuriates his
nephew. He delights in that fact. Derek still hasn't answered his question, his
lips clamped shut in a thin line as he breathes heavily, his chest heaving in a
way that tells him that the alpha is barely restraining himself from making the
same careless mistakes. He's always had a need to plan everything meticulously
and he doesn't like it when something comes along to derail those plans.
Needless to say, he was infuriated when—after finally resting up and gathering
the strength his constant teleportations had lost him—he had reentered the Hale
family vault to find one of his victims missing. His first thought had been
that Peter had betrayed him, his unstable mind making him distrustful of even
the person to whom he is closest. He'd seen red when Scott had finally spoken
up and told him his beloved brother was dead.
Derek watches Landon cautiously, keeping one hand pressed against Stiles' chest
the whole time. He feels the teen's heart racing beneath his palm.
"So? Are you going to answer my question, Derek?" Landon finally asks, breaking
the tense silence. His eyes flit over to the rest of the pack behind their
alpha, happy when he sees how weak they all still appear to be. It'll make
taking them down that much easier. His patience and sick need to toy with his
prey has long since passed.
Before he responds, Derek glances back over his shoulder and flashes his eyes
red at his betas to get them to leave the house again. He is forced to repeat
the action when they refuse to move, adding a growled, "Leave!" in hopes of
them finally listening to his command. He feels some of his worry ease off when
his injured betas trickle back out through the front door. Stiles, John, Danny
and Isaac stay put. He knows from the reluctance he saw within Allison and
Lydia's eyes that they would have stayed as well if it weren't for Scott and
Jackson forcing them outside with the rest of the wolves, the two betas
unwilling to leave their partners alone in such a dangerous situation. He hears
the huntress mention something about calling her father before he blocks them
out. Now that the house is considerably more empty, he turns back to Landon,
his eyes narrowed. "I think you already know what happened to Peter. He
betrayed my trust one too many times and I killed him so he couldn't hurt my
pack anymore."
Gritting his teeth at the matter-of-fact tone of Derek's voice, the alpha
obviously not regretting his murder, Landon leaves the comfort of the sofa,
getting to his feet and moving to stand in front of the fireplace. He isn't
worried about being attacked at that moment in time and has no problem turning
his back on his enemies. He peers curiously at the many photographs that stand
in a line on the mantlepiece.
Stiles watches Landon move apprehensively. It feels incredibly wrong to allow
someone he detests so much to have even the tiniest peek into his life, but he
knows that there isn't much he can do about it right then.
Landon recognises Stiles in many of the photographs. They were all obviously
taken years ago, the teenager's face rounder and more innocent-looking. He
wonders why there aren't any more-recent photos when a picture of a smiling
woman catches his eye. He takes the simple, brown frame in his hand, ignoring
the sound of outrage he hears coming from across the room as he inspects her
happy face. She sits in what he realises is this very room, only with different
furniture. Her brown hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders as she gazes
at whoever is behind the camera with obvious love in her eyes. "Hmm, well isn't
she just the prettiest thing?" he asks rhetorically, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
The display of emotion on the woman's face making him feel ill, he drops the
photograph carelessly to avoid looking at it any longer. A sick thrill runs
through his body when the glass shatters on the floor.
Instantly picking up on the flares of anger coming from both Stiles and John at
Landon's callous treatment of what he knows is a precious photograph, Derek
steps in front of them to prevent either from doing something stupid. John
glares right back at him, looking like he's contemplating how likely it is that
he'd be able to plough through him anyway. The older man backs off after a few
seconds. Stiles looks to be handling his emotions better than his father. His
hands are fisted at his sides, but otherwise he looks the picture perfect of
calm. He knows it's only a front, though, the teen's bitter scent and rapid
heartbeat giving away how he really feels.
"I hope that wasn't too important to any of you," Landon taunts nastily,
leaning back against the fireplace. He catches sight of the way Derek is
standing protectively in front of the two Stilinski men and sneers. "You should
really let them try, Derek. It would amuse me ever so much."
John lurches forward at this, eager to wrap his hands around Landon's neck as
he loses every shred of his common sense. He is held back by both Derek and,
surprisingly, Stiles. The alpha presses a hand against his chest, forcing him
to take several paces backward. Stiles drags him back even further until
they're both in the entranceway. He hears his son talking to him urgently and
finally turns his head away from the direction of the living room to pay
attention.
"Dad, you can't honestly be that stupid! You're not at full strength yet and
even if you were, he'd still be so much stronger than you," Stiles reasons, his
face twisted with desperation. "Promise me you won't try something that stupid
again!"
Landon's voice echoes through from the other room. "Listen to the boy, sheriff.
As much as I'd love to see you try, it wouldn't do any good."
Grudgingly accepting that there isn't really much he can do, John sighs deeply
and nods his head jerkily. It feels so wrong to leave this for his teenage son
to handle. He has to remind himself that Stiles has already dealt with far more
than someone his age should have to and has grown up faster than he ever
wanted. Remembering this, he pulls Stiles into his arms and hugs him tightly
before exiting the house to join the rest of the still-healing pack outside.
When Stiles reenters the living room, he finds everybody else is still in the
same place as he steps up next to Derek. He glares straight back at Landon when
the man smirks in his direction.
"So...just the four of you?" Landon asks, uncrossing his arms from where they
were folded over his chest. "I guess that'll make this easier, then. I must
admit I was tiring of you all...especially now that you've decided not to play
along." As soon as he finishes speaking, his eyes begin glowing a pale blue.
They would almost be beautiful if on a friendlier face.
Having never witnessed this eye colour before, Derek is left confused for a
second before he realises that this must mean Landon is gearing up for his
attack, showing off. He flashes his own eyes red, bringing out his claws and
shifting into his beta form. He feels Isaac and Danny do the same behind him. A
quick peek to the side reveals that Stiles' eyes are glowing their new gold hue
he is quickly growing to love. They're like a more intense version of the
teen's natural colour. Unwilling to let Landon get the first hit, he lets out
the loudest roar he ever remembers emitting and launches himself at his uncle.
As he was expecting, the older man disappears before he can make contact and,
thinking quickly, he pushes back off against the fireplace when he hits the
brick, turning his body in midair as his eyes rapidly scan the room for his
target.
Derek sees Landon is now stood menacingly behind his mate. "Stiles, duck!" he
yells, relieved when the teen immediately follows his direction.
Landon, having thought he would have more time before Derek was able to attack
again, is caught off-guard and is sent flying backward into the entranceway.
His back hits the far wall with a deafening thud, shaking the whole house and
knocking several of the picture frames that hang there off of their hooks,
sending them falling to the ground. The glass breaks into shards. Picking
himself back up off of the floor as fast as he can, he ducks to the side as
Danny moves forward and slashes at him with his claws. Gathering his energy, he
fires off a bolt of electricity from his palm in retaliation. It hits the beta
square in the chest.
Gasping in shock when he sees his boyfriend go down, Isaac hears the room get
quieter for a few seconds. It takes him just as long to figure out why: when
the electricity hit Danny, it stopped his heart. Before he can begin panicking,
he hears the steady thumping of the Hawaiian's pulse start back up. Unwilling
to be on the receiving end of the same attack, he tries to be a bit more clever
with his own. He sees that Landon and Derek are trading blows back and forth,
neither ones' attacks really landing. Scorch marks are left all over the walls
as Landon tries to hit the alpha with his bolts and misses, Derek being too
fast on his feet. While his enemy is distracted, he waits for Landon to face
away from him before lunging at his back, digging his claws and teeth into the
skin there as deep as possible. Gravity helps the viciousness of the move. His
claws tear through the fragile skin as his feet hit the floor again, leaving
eight deep gashes in their wake.
Intense pain blooming on his back, Landon screams out and tumbles forward when
Isaac withdraws his claws. He teleports away from the room to recover from the
surprising blow, appearing in the kitchen and focusing his magic to heal the
wounds faster than even an alpha werewolf could manage. It's a trick he picked
up from watching Jeremy work for years, his detested brother always eager to
heal even the smallest injuries for their younger relatives.
Stiles watches all of this happen, feeling helpless and thankful that this is
taking place in the middle of the day when all of his neighbours should be at
work. His palms remain glowing with his fire, but he is unwilling to let his
powers loose, afraid that he'll accidentally end up burning down the whole
house if he misses his target. He watches instead, waiting for an opening. When
Landon disappears again, he whips his head from side to side, looking for the
man. He sees Derek and Isaac race through to the kitchen and figures that must
be to where Landon teleported. He follows, hearing the sounds of more glass
smashing and metal crashing to the tiled floor. He peers cautiously around the
doorframe and sees the kitchen is fast on its way to being completely wrecked
as well. When Derek is tossed his way, he squeals and pulls his head back. He
feels when the alpha hits the wall from where he stands on the other side, the
house shaking once more.
When something shiny appears in his periphery, Stiles looks down and sees a
knife has slid through into the hallway. When he crouches down and reaches for
the handle, something blurs past him, millimetres from his nose. Knife now in
hand, he turns away from the kitchen to see Isaac now lying unconscious on the
floor next to Danny.
Meanwhile, outside of the house, the recovering betas are all listening to
everything happening within. They wince at every smashing of glass, at every
growl or groan of pain. They relay everything they can to the human members of
the pack, all of them desperate to be kept up to date. When Scott informs
Allison that Isaac has now also been knocked out, she knows that Derek and
Stiles most likely won't come out of the fight any better. In the same moment
she decides to join the fray, she hears a car pull up on the street a few feet
away. Turning, she sees her father get out of the driver's seat. She rushes to
the man's side when he beckons her over, following him around to the back of
the car with Lydia hot on her heels. When the trunk is opened, both girls gasp
in surprise at the arsenal that is stored within. It looks like Chris brought
his entire collection of weapons with him.
Their strength beginning to return, Scott, Kira and Jackson hobble over to
their partners, wanting to be involved.
Kira is surprised when she is handed her katana. "Where did you get this?" she
asks Chris, confused. The last place she remembers seeing it is back in her
bedroom.
"I stopped by your parents' on the way over here," Chris explains simply,
unzipping several of the large, black bags in the trunk and beginning to hand
weapons over to Allison and Lydia. He makes sure not to give them anything too
large, just a few knives each, which they tuck into the waistbands of their
jeans. Two handguns complete their gear. He doesn't bother giving any of the
wolves anything, trusting that they're adequately prepared with their claws. He
keeps the larger weaponry for himself.
Back in the house, Stiles crawls his way over to Isaac and rests his fingers
against the beta's throat, checking for a pulse. He breathes out a sigh of
relief when he feels a steady, albeit weak one. He gets shakily to his
feet—breathing heavily even though he hasn't done much yet—and tiptoes his way
back through to the kitchen. He tries again to look around the doorframe. Derek
and Landon are still fighting strong. The alpha's shirt is ripped at the
shoulder, the sleeve falling off, and several trails of blood run down the
tanned skin from small wounds that have since healed. Landon doesn't appear to
be faring any better, at least. His back is covered in blood from the gashes
Isaac inflicted there, though through the tatters of the man's shirt, Stiles
can see that he has somehow managed to heal himself. He worries about how many
different powers the blond has.
The kitchen itself is a wreck. Shards of china litter the floor—making him
insanely grateful that they're all still wearing shoes—and the island in the
middle of the room has been obliterated, a cracked stump left in its place.
Stiles doesn't even want to guess about how that happened. Derek and Landon
seem to come to a standstill, circling each other. Copying Isaac's plan from
earlier, he waits until Landon's back is facing him before making his move,
leaping forward, knife still in hand. He aims for the man's neck but
undershoots, jamming the blade as deep as he can get it through his shoulder
instead. He reels back when Landon screams in pain and spins around quicker
than he was expecting.
Derek isn't fast enough to react to Stiles' sudden appearance and is thus
unable to prevent Landon from striking the teen across the face, sending him
sprawling to the floor. He is about to lunge at his uncle again—the rough
treatment of his mate causing his rage to intensify even further than he
thought possible—when he hears the front door burst open, followed by a flood
of footsteps approaching.
The pack and Chris storm into the house, guns and claws raised. Scott and
Jackson pause in the entranceway to check over Isaac and Danny. As soon as they
have Landon within their sights, Lydia and Allison both raise their guns and
fire. Unfortunately, Landon is able to blink out of existence fast enough to
avoid being pierced by the bullets.
Having not expected his pack to come to his aid, Derek only just manages to
dodge out of the way of the bullets himself, diving to the side, the momentum
causing him to slide slightly along the floor. This puts him directly across
from Stiles and, looking closely at the teen to gauge his condition, he sees
that luckily all Stiles has is a split lip and a small cut on his cheek. He
allows himself a second to feel relief before leaping once more to his feet. He
puts his finger to his lips to indicate to everyone that they should stay
silent, keeping his ears open for any sounds from elsewhere in the house. He
sees Scott and Jackson doing the same, the two betas having pulled Isaac and
Danny out of the way so that they're now as safe as possible.
Landon barely resists bursting out with laughter as he watches his foes try to
locate him. He's not exactly hiding, having returned to his starting position
standing in front of the fire place in the living room. He decides to let them
know where he is with a flourish of his hand, firing another bolt of
electricity at the beta he thinks is called Scott. Only when the young wolf
flies backward, knocked unconscious just like his packmates, does he allow his
mirth to break forth. He offers Jackson, Boyd and Kira the same treatment when
the other teens rush forward to attack him. All four bodies land heavily on the
dining room table, breaking the legs and sending it crashing to the floor in
splinters. When he sees Derek fast approaching from the door to his left, he
holds up a hand and tuts at the alpha. "I wouldn't, if I were you," he warns,
tilting his head to the side and wincing when the stab wound from Stiles' knife
twinges painfully. Annoyingly, he doesn't seem to be able to conjure up enough
magic to actually heal himself again and he instead has to settle for simply
blocking out he pain.
"And why shouldn't I?" Derek growls, a slight lisp in his words from where his
fangs get in the way of his tongue.
Chris levels his shotgun at Landon, purposefully readying the shell in the
barrel to let the other man know he's prepared to fire at the drop of a hat.
"Because, dear nephew," Landon groans, cracking his knuckles and pursing his
lips contemplatively. He hides the fact that his energy is beginning to wane.
"I may have just incapacitated your precious betas, but I still have enough
juice left in my body to take you down and make you watch while I kill them all
very, very slowly and painfully. You've all put up a valiant effort, I must
admit; I wasn't prepared for it to actually come this close since it never has
before. Turns out I underestimated you. I can assure you that won't happen
again." He looks over Derek's shoulder briefly, watching as Stiles hobbles into
the room. The teen meets his eyes and stops where he stands behind the alpha.
"You should just give me what I want already. If you just hand Stiles over
right now, I might feel generous enough to let the rest of you come out of this
alive."
Derek bares his teeth at the offer, immediately dismissing it. He can see from
the way John's face is also contorted in anger that his feelings are shared by
the sheriff. "Not a chance in hell, Landon," he bites out, flicking his eyes
over at Chris and signalling to the man to fire. The resulting sound is
deafening.
Growing frustrated, Landon attempts to once again teleport to dodge the
gunfire. When he reappears, he is shocked to find that instead of landing
upstairs like he planned, he has only moved a couple of feet to his left. He
looks around with wide eyes for a second before gathering himself, waving a
hand at Chris and the two girls and blowing them off of their feet. His three
targets fall backward and land awkwardly against the wall, banging their heads
and subsequently knocking themselves out.
Stiles observes all of this silently. He only just manages to remain on his
feet, his head still incredibly dizzy from the harsh blow Landon struck him
with. He opens his mouth to whisper his findings to Derek. "He's getting
weaker," he points out almost silently, theorising that if they can just hold
out a little longer and get Landon to use more of his powers, the man will
eventually become weak enough to overpower and kill once and for all. He
gestures for his dad to stay where he still stands just inside the entranceway.
Nodding almost imperceptibly to show he understands, Derek rushes forward,
thankful that his alpha strength—augmented by the power he received when he
slashed through Peter's throat—prevents him from succumbing to Landon's magic
as easily as his betas. He spars with the other man, dodging as many attacks as
he can. Unfortunately, he isn't able to avoid all of them, though each time
Landon manages to land a hit, he finds he can push through the pain and
dizziness to get right back up again. His advanced healing also allows him to
get back to full fighting strength within a couple of seconds. He pulls out all
of his best moves, trying and trying to land a fatal hit on his uncle. Landon
is also fast on his feet, however, just managing to dance out of his range
every single time. All of this angers him more and more, causing him to lose
his tightly held concentration and thus making his attacks sloppier.
After a particularly acrobatic attempt on his life, Derek's claws getting
dangerously close to his throat, Landon uses the alpha's strength against him.
With a deft hand, he causes Derek to overshoot and go running headfirst into
the wall. This impact is what finally does his nephew in, sending him to the
floor in a groaning heap. Ready to get this horrid day over with already, he
waves a hand in John's direction and from the loud crash he hears he assumes
that the sheriff is now also down for the count. All obstacles defeated, he
stands on shaky feet and turns to face Stiles. He narrows his eyes when they
land on the teen, an evil smile forming on his lips when he sees his next
victim take a tentative step back, cowering slightly in fear. "What's the
matter, Stiles? Are you scared of me now?" he taunts, moving forward and
closing the distance between them.
Backing himself up against a wall, Stiles brings his powers forth in a last
ditch effort to stop Landon. The man catches his wrist in a firm hand before he
can strike and the glowing of his palm fades again.
"Now, this is what I've been after this whole time," Landon says wistfully. He
laments the loss of his brother, but figures that he'll manage to get over it
soon enough. "I have to say, this whole thing has been a learning experience. I
really must thank you, because the next new power I come across that I want,
I'm not even going to hesitate. I'm just going to murder everyone that stands
between myself and it and just take it." He stares into Stiles' eyes. "It's
been nice knowing you." Stepping back, he pulls the teen with him and shoves
him to the floor, moving to straddle his waist before he can try and get back
up. He cups his hands around Stiles' cheeks and begins muttering the
incantation he needs to rip the teen's powers out of him under his breath. The
scars that run from his face all the way down his bare arms begin glowing.
Stiles attempts to pry Landon's hands from his face, kicking wildly with his
legs the whole time. His heart races and his breathing picks up when he finds
the man's hands are practically glued to his cheeks, immovable. Excruciating
pain suddenly floods him, causing him to throw his head back as far as he can
and scream, his body going rigid. On and on it seems to last until he just
wishes it was over already, his life extinguished. He can't hear anything but
the ringing in his ears, but he knows that he never stops screaming in pain the
entire time, destroying his throat.
Derek stirs as soon as Stiles looses his first scream. He can feel faint traces
of what the teen is experiencing in his chest and even though it's
significantly lesser, it still takes all of the air out of his lungs, leaving
him breathless. He's never felt anything like it. He turns onto his front and
begins to drag himself toward his mate. From the faint light he can just make
out leaving Stiles' body, he knows he won't be fast enough to stop Landon. He
keeps trying anyway.
Blinking his eyes open, John's heart leaps into his throat when he realises
what the loud noise he hears is. His parental instincts kicking in, he finds
new strength within himself to make it to his feet, stumbling over the
unconscious bodies of Chris, Allison and Lydia to get to the living room. The
first thing he sees is Derek trying to drag himself across the floor. He
wonders why for a second before Stiles screams again and, turning his eyes in
the direction from which the heart-wrenching sound comes, he sees red. "Get the
hell off my son!" he shouts, lunging forward and colliding with Landon's body.
He wraps his arms around the other man's torso and knocks him sideways, off of
and away from Stiles. They go rolling until they come to a stop in the doorway
that leads through to the kitchen. He ends up on his back, Landon straddling
him instead.
Stiles sobs harshly with gratitude as the pain finally recedes. He is confused
about why it stopped so suddenly. He looks sideways and sees Derek looking
right at him from across the floor. The alpha looks so damn relieved.
"You've really done it this time, Johnny boy," Landon seethes. Infuriated at
having been temporarily thwarted in his task, he looks sideways and catches
sight of the glinting silver of the knife Stiles sank into his shoulder
earlier. Feeling vindictive, he grabs it and, without preamble, stabs the man
beneath him right in the middle of his chest, right through his heart.
Derek watches this happen, powerless to stop it. He looks on with disbelief as
Landon removes the knife, the force with which he does it sending an arc of
bright red blood splattering up the wall. His mouth hangs open as he tears his
eyes away from the horrific scene to look at Stiles. He knows from the way the
teen's eyes are still fixed on him, tears only just beginning to dry, that his
mate isn't aware of what just happened. His heart breaks.
Reaching up a hand to wipe hastily at the moisture that still runs in lines
down his cheeks, Stiles breathes out another shaky breath and wonders where
Landon is. He thinks he should probably get up before the man returns to make a
second attempt at stealing his powers. He looks over at Derek again and freezes
when he notices how distraught the alpha looks. When their eyes meet, he knows
something terrible must have occurred to make him look like that.
Slowly—reluctant to see whatever it is that put that expression on Derek's
face—he pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks around the room. Choking
sounds reach his ears. He looks in the direction from which they come and stops
breathing, thinking Landon must have actually killed him, that he must have
died and this is his hell. He doesn't think there's any possible way that what
he's seeing could be real.
Time seems to stand still. A pool of red slowly seeps out onto the hardwood
floor around John's body as he chokes on his own blood. Landon stays sitting
atop his victim, watching with sick interest. The knife is still in his hand,
dripping.
The reality of the situation setting in, Stiles is surprised at himself when he
doesn't immediately start to cry. Instead, he feels eerily calm. The white-hot
rage he has for Landon seems far away, building on itself until it collides
with his body again like a meteor. Getting to his feet, he nearly doubles over
with the force of all the power he feels surging through his veins. Looking
down, he sees that it's not just his hands that are glowing anymore; every inch
of his skin is alight, blinding, shining through his clothes.
Landon's malevolent grin is wiped off of his face when he turns away from John
to lay his eyes on this new anomaly. He falls backward off of the sheriff's
shaking body and leaps to his feet. His desire to take Stiles' powers and call
them his own is stronger than ever now that he knows their true extent. "You
want me, Stiles? Come and get me!" he yells, running in the opposite direction
and leaving through the back door.
Stiles, his blood boiling, immediately follows, determined not to let Landon
get away with his latest crime.
Derek is left lying on the floor, staring after his mate. He tries and fails to
comprehend what he's just witnessed, momentarily lost inside his own head. It
isn't until he hears John coughing again that he snaps out of it. In the time
it took for the previous events to unfold, some of his strength has returned
and he is able to stumble over to the other man. He rips his shirt off over his
head, pressing it against the wound in the sheriff's chest with his hands to
try and stop the bleeding.
When he gets outside into back garden, Stiles pauses once his feet hit the
grass. There isn't a single sign of Landon anywhere he can see, so he scans the
tree line carefully, looking for any trace of unnatural colour. He finds
nothing out of the ordinary and yells in frustration. He is about to go back
inside and see what condition his dad is in when he picks up on maniacal
laughter off in the distance, beyond the trees. Whipping back around, he darts
in the direction from which he thinks the sound came. The rage he feels carries
him faster and faster until he's running at a speed he doesn't think he's ever
been able to reach before, not even during the many times he's had to run for
his life during the past year. He guesses that vengeance is a good motivator.
The overcast sky doesn't provide much light. This, along with the fact that the
foliage under which he runs is incredibly dense, makes Stiles feel almost as if
he's dashing through the preserve during the nighttime. It's an unfortunately
familiar sensation, but the glow from his skin lights his path. When he travels
a considerable distance without seeing neither hide nor hair of Landon, he
comes to a stop beside a particularly thick tree, leaning against the trunk and
focusing on catching his breath again.
"What's the matter, Stiles? Did you lose me?" Landon taunts, his disembodied
voice echoing throughout the area.
Stiles pushes off from the tree he leans against and turns in a slow circle,
observing the area. His breath is once again knocked out of his lungs when
something collides with him from behind, knocking him forward so that he lands
painfully on the hard, dirt- and dust-covered ground. The shock of the impact
snaps his hold on his powers and the light in his skin recedes instantly,
extinguishing his only source of light and his only weapon. A heavy weight
rests on top of him, preventing him from getting to his feet. He pushes against
it, but his arms are quickly grabbed in a pair of strong hands and held above
his head.
"You're a fucking idiot, Stiles... Following me all the way out here with no
backup? That was a dumber move than just about everything your impulsive alpha
tried earlier," Landon breathes in Stiles' ear, sending shivers down the teen's
spine. "Now, stay still while I finally take what's mine." He begins muttering
under his breath, picking up from where he was forced to leave off earlier when
John came barrelling into him out of nowhere.
Before Landon can move his hands to grip his face once more, Stiles tries
desperately to bring his powers forth again. He thinks over all of the pain the
man has caused him and the ones he loves in the past couple of weeks, of all
the worry he endured wondering if his packmates were even still alive while
they were missing. The thought of his dad lying on the verge of death on his
living room floor and of what he knows Landon will do to Derek if he is allowed
to succeed with his plan are what break the dam within him. His powers surge
back with a vengeance, making him shine even brighter than before. He sees
Landon's hands inching closer to his skin and lets out a laugh when, after they
make contact, the man pulls away with a scream of pain, his palms burned.
Apparently, the light in his skin is another manifestation of his fire. He
feels like the Human Torch.
Landon looks down at his hands as he staggers away from Stiles. The skin of his
palms is red and begins to blister. "What the fuck?!" he exclaims, tearing his
eyes away from himself. He looks back at Stiles and finds that the teen is
standing again, a smug smirk on his face.
"It's time for you to fucking die already, Landon," Stiles growls lowly, his
voice unusually deep. He brings his hands to hover in front of his chest, his
palms facing toward each other, and draws all of the power he feels underneath
his skin down into them. The yellow glow turns a deadly orange before bleeding
into red. Fire seeps out of his fingertips, building into a ball that just
keeps getting bigger and bigger. He glances up at Landon and feels a thrill run
through him when he sees fear on the man's face. It makes a nice change. When
he feels the fireball is as large as he can make it, he transfers it into just
one of his hands and displays it proudly, almost tauntingly. Before Landon can
even think about trying to get away again, he hurls the thing in the man's
direction, praying that his aim is true.
Landon doesn't even make it two feet before the fireball hits him square in the
back. Unlike when Stiles hit him in the head the day before, it doesn't go out
on impact. Instead, it expands, engulfing his entire body in excruciating,
searing flame. It makes him fall to his knees, his skin burning, blistering and
falling away.
As soon as the fireball leaves his hand, Stiles practically collapses, all of
his energy having gone into the attack. He watches Landon's body fall to
ground, horrified. As happy as he is to finally be rid of the man, to be free
of his terrorising, the fact that his death is so gruesome and by his hands
alone unsettles his stomach. Not even seeing Peter burn alive from his and
Jackson's molotov cocktails got to him this much. What little food he ate that
morning makes a reappearance; he braces himself on his hands as he retches,
curled forward as the muscles in his abdomen convulse painfully until he's only
bringing up bile. Thankfully, the screaming finally stops and the preserve is
plunged back into near-darkness when the fire around Landon's body seems to
extinguish itself. Gathering his courage, he wipes the back of his hand across
his mouth and dares to open his eyes again to look up at the man's remains. All
that is left is a blackened, smoking, unrecognisable corpse.
Snapping himself out of his staring, the thought of his father still bleeding
out on the floor of his living room reenters Stiles' mind, spurring him back
into action. He pulls himself back to his feet, almost falling sideways again
as he does when his head spins dangerously. He braces himself against the rough
bark of a nearby tree until it passes. Only then does he begin to make his way
back to his house. The heaviness of his limbs impedes his progress, making it
slow going. Eventually, the trees part enough that his home becomes visible. He
releases a long, thankful breath that his salvation is so close.
Derek is still on his knees on the floor next to John. The man lost
consciousness several minutes ago, but his heart still beats surprisingly
strong. He had paused temporarily in his attempts to keep John from succumbing
to his wounds when he heard agonising screams coming from a great distance
away. They sounded so faint that he couldn't tell whose voice it was that made
them and he was terrified that Stiles had failed in apprehending Landon. Only
the realisation that he would have felt if his mate was in extreme pain again
kept him from freaking out. Looking down, he sees blood still flowing freely
from John's wound, having long since soaked through the thin fabric of his
shirt. Concluding that he won't be able to staunch it, he prays that he's
making the right decision as he brings the sheriff's wrist up to his mouth and
materialises his fangs. He bites down on the flesh hard, hoping that he's not
too late and that it will take. Just as he retracts his fangs, he hears the
back door slam open again before shuffling footsteps make their way across the
tiled kitchen floor.
Stiles' face appears around the doorframe. Derek frowns in confusion when he
notices the dark smudges across the teen's cheekbone but decides to ignore
them, ushering him over.
Falling to his knees next to his father's prone form, Stiles looks over the
damage, feeling slightly disconnected from it all. His mind can't quite wrap
itself around what he's seeing now that he has time to really take in every
detail. The sheriff's blood soaks into the fabric of his jeans, staining them
red. He looks up and notices that Derek still has the other man's wrist in his
hand, the deep ring of bleeding teeth marks on display. "Is he gonna be OK?" he
asks quietly, finally meeting the alpha's worried eyes with his own.
Derek is extremely concerned as he takes in how emotionless Stiles looks about
the whole situation. He shrugs his shoulders in answer to the teen's question.
"I don't know... If it takes," he says simply, deciding to be honest and
praying that he doesn't see John's blood begin to turn black. "I don't hear his
heartbeat slowing down yet, but it could still go either way."
Unwilling to even entertain the possibility that his dad could die, Stiles
rests his right hand gently on the man's sweaty forehead, rubbing his thumb
back and forth soothingly. John's complexion is extremely pale from the blood
loss, making him look like a corpse already. Figuring that there's nothing he
can do but wait, he swings his legs out from underneath his body and sits
cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the wall when his own tiredness
makes itself known again. His dad's breathing is ragged, laboured, as if each
breath takes a lot of effort. It's not a good sign.
When he hears groaning coming from the other room, Derek glances up at Stiles
to make sure the teen is OK—or at least as OK as he can be given the
circumstances—before getting to his feet and going to investigate. He gets into
the entranceway and sees that some of his betas are beginning to regain
consciousness. Their eyes are still closed, but their faces are scrunched up in
discomfort as they clutch at their heads. Isaac is the first one to open his
eyes, blinking at his surroundings with uncertainty. Crouching down next to the
tall beta, Derek places a hand on the teen's shoulder and helps him to sit up.
"Are you OK?" he asks. He is relieved when he gets a nod in return.
Danny is the next one to awaken, followed quickly by Scott and Jackson. Boyd is
last. The three humans don't show signs of reawakening yet, but Derek guesses
that's to be expected since they don't have the rapid healing rate of a
werewolf.
Stiles sits forward excitedly when he notices that his dad's eyes are open,
staring at him intently. They look slightly unfocused, but he supposes it's
better than nothing. "Dad?" he asks apprehensively, not sure whether he'll get
a response or if the man is even able to hear him. The sheriff's lips part
slightly, a fresh trail of blood running down his cheek from the corner of his
mouth. He thinks he hears his dad trying to say something but his voice is too
quiet for him to be able to make it out. He leans down closer. "It's OK, I'm
here. You're going to be OK." He jumps in surprise when a hand lands on his
shoulder. He looks up to see Derek is now kneeling next to him.
After making sure all of the betas were going to be fine, Derek had left the
knocked out humans in their care and rejoined his mate. He keeps his grip on
Stiles firm, offering the teen support. He hears the sheriff's heartbeat begin
to slow and frowns, clenching his jaw when he realises what it means. John
tries again to say something. He doesn't think Stiles is able to hear it either
and so tries to pick out the words, finding the sheriff's eyes are now on his
face instead of his son's. He gasps when the man's words finally register.
"You have to take care of him now," John croaks, his voice incredibly weak.
Having finally noticed that his dad's eyes are no longer looking at him, Stiles
glances sideways and freezes when he sees the stricken expression on Derek's
face. His heart begins beating rapidly in his chest. "Derek? What's happening?"
he asks, his voice pitched higher than normal in his panic.
Derek turns slowly to face his mate. "Stiles... It's too late," he whispers,
shaking his head. He berates himself silently for not thinking to bite the
sheriff sooner, guilt and self-loathing beginning to stir in his gut.
Stiles stares at Derek in shock as the alpha's words sink in. He can't believe
them. He grabs his dad's wrist and looks at the bite wound there before running
his hands over the man's face, turning his head so that their eyes meet.
"C'mon, dad, you have to hold on, OK? I only just got you back, you can't leave
me now! I already lost mom; I can't lose you, too!" His vision goes blurry as
tears build in his eyes, running down his cheeks in torrents of salt. He
babbles nonsensically, shaking his dad's head when the man's eyes close slowly,
begging him to open them again. He isn't aware of anyone else in the room. His
whole world has narrowed down to just him and his dad's now-lifeless body.
Crying himself, Derek watches his mate break down, knowing he cannot do
anything to help. He can't bring the dead back to life. He hears his betas
enter the room behind him and turns to look at them, seeing that they all look
just as distraught as he knows he must as well. The sound of sirens off in the
distance reaches his ears, alerting him to the reality of the situation.
Someone must have heard the gunshots and fighting earlier and called the
police. He runs his hands down his face before getting to his feet and ushering
the group of teens back out into the entranceway. "Alright, the police are
coming and you all need to be out of here by the time they arrive," he
instructs, slipping back into his emotionless alpha mode. "Scott, Isaac,
Jackson, Boyd...I want you four to take Lydia, Allison, Kira and Chris with you
and wait for me in the preserve. I'll take care of everything here." He turns
to Danny. "Take Chris' keys and get his car out of here. Take the guns with
you." He points at the three guns the humans had dropped on the floor when they
were thrown backward.
Everyone is reluctant to leave, Stiles' grieving tapping into their instincts
to stay and comfort their packmate. It's a struggle to push through that and
follow their alpha's instructions. With one last lingering look back through to
the living room, they leave through the back door, carrying the unconscious
bodies of the humans over their shoulders. Isaac is the last to go, whining at
the thought of leaving Stiles. It's only Derek's firm hand on his back that
gets him to exit the house, running to catch up to the others.
Derek looks around the house, taking in the state of the wreckage. He can only
think of one plausible explanation that would account for all of it. Walking
cautiously over to Stiles, his heart breaks all over again when he sees the way
the teen is bent over his dad's body, sobbing into his bloody chest. "Stiles?"
he breathes, gently taking a hold of his mate's shoulders and lifting his
shaking frame up, urging the boy to look at him. He swallows difficultly when
he sees the way the right side of Stiles' face is smeared with streaks of red.
"Love...the police are on their way, OK? I'm so sorry to do this to you, but we
need to get our story straight before they get here." His voice cracks slightly
as he tries to maintain the tenuous hold he has over his emotions. He waits
until Stiles nods before continuing. "We'll tell them that someone broke in to
try and rob you guys, not realising anybody was home. When they saw your dad,
they panicked. There was an altercation and your dad was stabbed. They fled
afterward."
Stiles listens to Derek's cover story impassively, pulling himself together,
the occasional hiccup still slipping out.
"Can you repeat it to me?" Derek asks after a few seconds of just gazing into
the teen's empty, wet eyes. He nods tightly and bites his lip when Stiles
manages to choke out the lie, parroting it back to him. By this point, he can
hear that the sirens are much closer and knows that the police are just seconds
from bursting through the front door. Sure enough, after a blessedly short and
tense wait, he hears a couple of cars pull up outside, followed by the slamming
of several doors. Quickly, he drags Stiles a short distance away so that
they're propped up against the overturned sofa in the middle of the room.
Several officers come through the open door, guns drawn as they split off in
different directions throughout the bottom floor of the house.
Stiles looks up when he hears several horrified gasps. He recognises the
deputies that stand in his living room, having practically grown up in front of
most of them during his time spent at the station with his dad. They walk over
to him tentatively, almost as if they're scared of spooking him. He sees the
way they eye Derek warily, like they suspect him of being responsible for the
devastation around them. To prove them wrong, he leans into the alpha's side
and shoves his head underneath the older man's chin. He feels Derek wrap an arm
around his waist in return.
Jordan Parrish enters the living room shortly afterward, having tagged along
after the officers on call when he realised to whose house they were heading.
He almost stumbles over his own feet when his eyes land on the sheriff's
unmoving body. "Stiles? What happened?!" he asks, unable to believe the scene
in front of him. The sheer amount of blood on the floor is staggering.
"He's dead," Stiles whispers simply, his voice hoarse from his earlier
outpouring of emotion. He shudders against Derek's side when he looks over at
his dad's body again.
Before anything more can be said, another set of hurried footsteps can be heard
storming up the front path. Everyone turns to look, curious about the identity
of the new arrival. Melissa McCall rushes into the room, slapping a hand over
her mouth when she sees what's happened. She tears her eyes away from the
sheriff and looks sadly at Stiles.
"Melissa? What are you doing here?" Derek asks, confused about her appearance.
As far as he knew, the woman was working another shift at the hospital.
"Scott called me," Melissa replies, kneeling down in front of Stiles. "Oh,
honey..." She is surprised when the teen launches himself into her arms, almost
knocking her onto her back. She shares a helpless look with Derek and just
holds on to Stiles as he begins sobbing anew.
***** Kindred *****
Isaac walks briskly through the trees in the preserve, Chris Argent thrown in a
fireman's carry over his shoulder. He'd stopped running as soon as he crossed
the tree line, hidden from view, as his quick gait had been jostling the man he
carries in what must have been an uncomfortable manner. He soon catches up to
the rest of the pack where they're gathered in a small clearing. Seeing that
the unconscious bodies of Allison and Lydia are propped up against a couple of
trees, he does the same with Chris, gently setting him down next to his
daughter. Breathing heavily after making his quick escape, he traipses over to
the other betas. "How long do you think it'll be before Derek gets here?" he
asks, clutching his side. He hopes Danny shows up soon as well, wanting to be
near to someone whose presence he finds so comforting.
"It'll probably be a while," Kira speculates, looking down at her clothes and
brushing at the dirt on them with her hands. "He'll probably go with Stiles to
the station and stay with him the whole time he's there. I know that if it were
Scott or Allison in Stiles' position, I wouldn't want to leave their side
either." She keeps close to Scott anyway, interlocking their fingers.
"I feel so bad for Stiles..." Isaac mutters, starting to tear up again as he
remembers the heart-wrenching sight of the other teen bent over his dad's
corpse. He can feel just how much pain Stiles is in through the new connection
that grew between them the previous day, after he and Derek mated. He can't say
he felt his own dad's death quite so deeply, but he remembers how distraught he
was after his mother's untimely passing. It took him months to feel some
semblance of OK again and even then, he still had his dad to rely on, at least
before the man changed into the abusive asshole he ended up becoming. He hopes
he'll be able to help his friend and 'pack mom' get through his grief and prays
vindictively that Landon's death was unbearably painful. As soon as he thinks
this, he catches a whiff of something terrible that causes him to choke and his
breath to catch in his throat. He glances at the other betas and Kira and sees
that they obviously smell it, too, if the way they all hold their hands in
front of their noses to block it is anything to go by. "What the hell is
that?!"
Jackson shakes his head. "I'm not sure I even want to know..." he rasps,
scrunching up his nose. He turns in a circle and looks around the clearing,
trying to pinpoint from which direction the stench emanates. He begins walking
toward it when he determines its location, his steps slow.
"Where are you going?" Scott asks, staying where he is, his free hand still
linked with Kira's.
"I'm going to see what's making that smell, dumbass!" Jackson yells over his
shoulder, exasperated, his tone harsh because he thinks what he is doing is
obvious. He shouldn't expect any less from Scott, though, he supposes. Several
hundred feet away, he finally walks over the top of a steep hill and lays eyes
on Landon's burned body. He recoils at the grotesque sight, a startled yell
escaping his mouth. He had thought previously that things like what he's seeing
only appear in films and television shows. Seeing it in real life turns his
stomach dangerously. There aren't any traces of the man's clothes. His mouth is
frozen open in what was no doubt an agonised scream, his lips burned away,
exposing his teeth permanently. The rest of his skin hasn't fared any better,
what little is left being red and raw. The bones of Landon's arms and legs are
completely exposed. Fine tendrils of smoke still rise from the corpse. He hears
hurried footsteps approaching from behind and assumes that the other betas are
coming to check up on him after hearing his outburst.
When Scott and Kira appear behind Jackson, they have similar reactions. Kira
turns away immediately, not wanting to see something she finds so horrible.
"Is...is that Landon?" she asks, her voice shaking.
"I think so..." Scott answers, wrapping an arm around Kira, bringing her closer
so that her face is buried in his chest. "I guess his dad dying made Stiles
super mad." He can't tear his eyes away from Landon's body, both fascinated and
sickened by it. "Are we just going to leave it out here or...?" He doesn't
think it would be a good idea to let their deceased adversary stay there, out
in the open where anybody could stumble across it. He doesn't want to get near
it, though, much less touch it.
"We're going to leave it here, yes," Jackson comments, finally looking away
from Landon's body. He begins walking back to where he'd left their unconscious
packmates, Scott and Kira following behind. When he reaches his destination, he
sees that Isaac is crouched down in front of Chris, the back of his hand
pressed to the ex-hunter's forehead. He walks over and takes a seat on the
ground next to Lydia, waiting for the girl to wake up and relieve him of his
worry for her. "I say we have Chris deal with it. He took care of Peter's body,
after all."
Scott looks at Jackson in confusion. "How do you know that?" he asks, surprised
as he himself doesn't know anything about what's gone on while he was captured.
"I asked Lydia to fill me in on everything after we got out of the vault,"
Jackson explains, his tone bored. He curls his right hand around the redhead's
shoulder and tilts her sideways so that her face ends up being pressed into his
collarbone. His wolf has been constantly restless for the past couple of weeks,
ever since he was taken by Landon. It had been a strange and irritating feeling
to carry around in his chest the entire time, reminding him of when he first
became a werewolf after he died as a kanima. He doesn't ever want to feel that
way again. Only his close proximity to his girlfriend settles it once more. The
scent of Landon's burned body is still prevalent in the area, but now that he
knows what it is he succeeds in blocking it out, burying his nose in the red
strands of Lydia's hair, inhaling the smell of strawberry shampoo instead.
Nodding his acceptance of Jackson's explanation, Scott turns to look behind
himself when he hears the sound of approaching footsteps.
Danny soon appears, his muscled form darting through the trees when he lays his
eyes on Isaac. He immediately wraps the taller beta up in a hug when he gets
close enough, his immense relief about finally being safe again feeling
palpable to everybody else in the clearing. He had driven Chris' car a couple
of blocks over and left it locked, parked on the side of the street, before
dashing as fast as his feet would carry him in search of his boyfriend. Being
the newest werewolf of the bunch, he feels the need to be close to his partner
more than anyone else. He still only really has control of the most basic of
his new instincts, such as refraining from letting his anger get the best of
him, causing him to turn. He's a pretty calm person in general, so that part
isn't too difficult. He still has trouble dealing with the less significant
aspects like needing a stable pack around him, which, when coupled with the
thought that what happened to Stiles' dad could have easily happened to Isaac,
makes him especially clingy. Just as he relinquishes his hold on the curly-
haired teen, he hears the sounds of groaning coming from the three humans he
spied propped up against the trees when he arrived.
Allison is the first to regain consciousness, blinking her eyes open and
pressing a hand to the back of her head when it pounds painfully. She soon
finds herself swept up in two sets of arms as Scott and Kira sprint over to her
and lift her off of her feet. "Whoa, whoa! Put me back down, now!" she demands,
slapping Scott on his shoulder to get him to obey.
Scott pouts as he does as Allison says, still keeping his hands touching her
after he has done so. He knew she would be fine, but the concern of her never
waking up had been niggling in the back of his head as he waited. Kira seems to
share his thoughts, the girl also clinging to the third member of their little
threesome.
As soon as her feet touch the ground again, Allison drops her hand down from
her head and looks around the area, surprised at the change in her
surroundings. She expected that she would still be in Stiles' house when she
woke up. When her eyes land on her dad, still propped up next to Lydia and
Jackson, she tears herself away from her partners and rushes over to check
whether or not he's OK. He still appears to be breathing, but she can see the
beginnings of what looks like a rather nasty bump forming on the back of his
head. Almost as if he felt her hands on his face, shockingly blue eyes open at
half mast and look up at her own dazedly. "Dad?" she asks tentatively, keeping
her voice quiet so as not to startle him.
When Chris gets shakily to his feet, bracing himself with a hand pressed
against the rough bark of a tree, he looks at the group of teenagers stood
around him for a second before coming to the conclusion that the fight must be
over. The fact that no weapons appear to be in the area confuses him, though,
and he wonders where they've gone. Just as he thinks this, Danny walks up to
him and hands over his car keys.
"Your car is a couple of blocks away from Stiles' place," Danny explains,
seeing the baffled expression on Chris' face. "All of the weapons are in the
trunk."
"Thanks," Chris says simply, unable to find any other words. He tucks the keys
in his back pocket. "Is it over?"
Nodding, Scott explains about the discovery they made a few minutes previous,
about how they think Stiles ended up burning Landon to a crisp. Chris looks
sufficiently sickened by this revelation, but he's happy that the man
antagonising his daughter and her friends has been taken care of.
Finally, Lydia joins the others in the land of the living. She ended up hitting
the wall the hardest when Landon flung her, Chris and Allison away from himself
and is thus the slowest to awaken. She only manages to keep herself standing
because of Jackson's arm around her waist. When she is informed of how Stiles
took out Landon, she refuses to believe it and demands to lay eyes on the man's
body herself. Moving unhurriedly, she allows Jackson to lead her through the
preserve, managing to stumble only a couple of times. After she comes close to
collapsing on the dirt-covered ground, she squeals when Jackson unceremoniously
scoops his other arm under her knees and sweeps her up so that she is now being
carried against the beta's chest. She wraps her own arm around the back of his
neck to support herself further. When Landon's corpse finally comes into view,
she gasps in shock at the revolting sight. "Stiles did this? Stiles?" she asks,
breathless, unable to believe him to be capable of something so horrific.
Another voice comes from behind her, making her jump.
"He had good reason," Scott says, announcing his presence. When Lydia peers at
him curiously, waiting for an answer, he sighs and looks down at his shoes.
"Landon stabbed his dad. He's dead." The sense of loss he feels is huge, his
best friend's dad having been a better father to him than his own. He knows
that what he feels must be nothing compared to what Stiles is going through.
Like Isaac, he can sense a small amount of the pain his best friend is
experiencing through the other teen's new mating bond. It's crippling.
Lydia looks stricken, turning away from Scott. Having looked her fill at
Landon's corpse, she signals to Jackson that she's finished so he can begin
heading back.
They pass Chris on the way, the man's face looking grim and resigned. When
Jackson asks where the eldest Argent is going, Chris explains that he's going
to take care of the new body, guessing that this has apparently turned into his
duty.
"I want to go and find Stiles," Lydia announces when she gets back into the
clearing, drawing everybody's attention. "Where is he?" She feels a deep need
to be close to the other teen that in recent months has become an incredibly
dear friend. She knows she won't feel OK unless she's there to comfort him in
his hour of need. From the looks on everyone else's faces, she knows they all
feel the same.
"I think he went with Derek to the station," Scott says, unsurprised when Lydia
immediately punches Jackson in his chest to get him moving in the direction of
her house, where her car still sits in the driveway. He and everybody else
follow the pair, Boyd picking up the rear. The taciturn beta still looks down
in the dumps, no doubt because Erica still hasn't reappeared. He hangs back a
little bit until they walk side by side and bumps their shoulders together,
offering the taller wolf a reassuring smile when their eyes meet. "We should
probably all take a shower and get a change of clothes before we go there,
though. It'd look suspicious if we all turned up as dirty as we are now, all at
once."
Soon enough, they cut through the preserve and emerge on the other side of
Beacon Hills, close to Lydia's house. When it comes into view, they all split
off from each other and head off in the directions of their respective homes,
making plans to meet up again at the sheriff's station in half an hour.
                                     * * *
After Melissa McCall had stormed into the Stilinskis' living room, it had been
left up to Derek to explain what happened there to the deputies. Stiles was too
upset to even get a single word out and, when the teen had eventually finished
crying in Melissa's arms, he was almost comatose as he and Derek were
shepherded into the back of a police cruiser and taken down to the sheriff's
station. The fact that not even he could get a response out of his mate had
made the alpha incredibly worried. He figures that Stiles is in shock and will
hopefully come out of it again soon. As it is, they sit together on two chairs
in one of the interrogation rooms, Derek in a borrowed shirt that doesn't quite
fit. It's too tight around his shoulders and the planes of his muscles are
clearly visible beneath the stretched, cheap fabric. Parrish—the deputy that
had escorted them there—had made it clear they weren't in any trouble and that
they were only placed in the room to give them some semblance of privacy. He
positions Stiles so that the teen's head is tucked beneath his chin, running
his fingers through his mate's hair as he waits for Parrish to return.
When the only door to the room opens again, Parrish steps through with a damp
washcloth in his hands. He gives it wordlessly to Derek, indicating to the
blood that is still caked onto the right side of Stiles' face when the alpha
stares at him in confusion. "I figured you'd want something to get that mess
off with..." he explains quietly, not wanting to speak too loudly for fear of
startling the teen.
"Thanks," Derek accepts, folding the cloth in half and making a start at wiping
Stiles' face clean of his dad's blood. He isn't able to get all of it, every
inch of the material's pristine whiteness soon becoming stained and useless. A
bruise is uncovered on the pale skin of the teen's cheek, no doubt from when
Landon struck him across the face. It looks to still be forming. He is dismayed
when Stiles still shows no signs of acknowledging what is happening around him
the entire time. When he gets to the point of simply smearing the redness
across the paleness of the teen's skin, he gives up. Tossing the cloth onto the
metal table beside which they sit with a wet slap, he goes back to stroking his
mate's hair lovingly.
Parrish watches all of this happen with a concerned frown on his face. He takes
the third chair on the opposite side of the table and gets out his notepad and
pen. "I know that this is probably a very difficult time and that Stiles is
obviously in no condition to give his statement yet, but...would you be OK
giving yours now?" he asks, wincing in sympathy when Derek turns to look at him
incredulously. He hastens to explain himself when the alpha's expression
doesn't change. "I understand that you'd rather wait, but the longer we go
without knowing what happened, the more time whoever did this has to get away.
Everyone is up in arms about the sheriff's death and no one knows what to do.
So, perhaps giving them a clear goal to work toward would help." He waits until
he receives a cautious nod from Derek before beginning his questioning. "OK...
Was it just you, Stiles and the sheriff in the house at the time?"
Derek nods again, shifting sideways slightly so that he's pressed bodily
against Stiles. He hopes the contact will provide his mate some comfort,
wherever the teen is lost in his own mind. "Yeah, it was just us," he answers,
sighing deeply and looking up at the fluorescent light that buzzes annoyingly
on the ceiling. The pause he takes before continuing is just an excuse to fully
flesh out the cover story he had flimsily thought of earlier, trying to make it
as believable as possible. "John wanted to talk to me about my being friends
with a bunch of teenagers and about how I spend so much time around Stiles, so
he had just sat us both down to give us a talking to about keeping secrets and
how strange and suspicious he found it all to be. Eventually, the topic of my
growing relationship with Stiles came up, and he warned us not to do anything
before he turned eighteen, at least not around him."
Parrish is surprised by this new information, his eyes darting back and forth
between Derek and Stiles as the pieces fall into place in his head. He was
wondering why the older man seemed to be treating Stiles so tenderly. He
signals for the alpha to carry on with his explanation.
"Anyway, that's when some people came through the front door, wearing masks. It
wasn't locked," Derek explains, playing along and nodding grimly when he sees
the unsettled expression on Parrish's face. "I think they were trying to rob
the place, not knowing that anybody was home at the time or that it was the
sheriff's house. A fight broke out and bunch of the furniture got destroyed.
Stiles got hurt," he indicates to the bruising on the teen's face, as well as
his split lip, "and one of them got a knife from the kitchen and stabbed John.
The rest of them ran away when they saw what their friend had done. I was too
busy making sure that Stiles was alright to do anything about stopping them.
The one who stabbed John followed them when he saw his friends had abandoned
him. I tried to use my shirt to stop the bleeding, but it didn't work." He puts
himself in Stiles' place and forces a tear to his eye to really sell his
performance. It's not a difficult feat to accomplish, the ache in his chest he
feels coming through his connection to the teen helping him.
The pen in Parrish's hand moves quickly over the white paper of his notepad as
he takes Derek's account down in an untidy scrawl that he himself has trouble
reading. He asks Derek to give him as detailed a description as he can about
what each of the intruders looked like, writing down everything the other man
says. He sets the pen down after he writes the last word and leans back in his
chair, exhaling in a long breath as he tries to get his head around the fact
that the sheriff, his mentor, is dead. "Thank you... I know it couldn't have
been easy talking about all of this," he says, meeting Derek's glistening eyes.
"I think this'll be enough for now. Stiles can give his account whenever he's
ready." He stares sadly at the teen resting on Derek's shoulder.
Derek nods his head to acknowledge Parrish's words. A quick glance down at
Stiles' face reveals his eyes to be closed, nearing sleep. He figures it's
probably a good thing, the day most likely having taken all of the teen's
energy to get through. He is curious as to how his mate took care of Landon,
but he knows he'll have to save that question for a while until Stiles reaches
a more stable mindset.
Suddenly, the door opens for a second time and Melissa walks in, a small, red
bag slung over her shoulder. She takes in the way Derek is cradling Stiles'
body almost protectively against his own and smiles sadly at the pair. A
maelstrom of emotions is currently raging within her chest; on the one hand,
she is pleased that the two boys have finally gotten their act together, her
motherly intuition telling her months ago that something was building between
the alpha and her surrogate son. On the other hand, however, she feels such a
palpable sense of loss coming from the teen that her heart breaks for him. She
doesn't like the expressionlessness of his face, how he appears to have checked
out. She knows from her long conversation with Scott after he 'came out' as a
werewolf that Derek must be able to actually smell Stiles' grief. She wonders
what that would be like and hopes that she never has to find out for herself.
"Melissa? What are you still doing here?" Derek asks, bewildered. He knows the
woman followed him and Stiles to the station, but he didn't expect her to stick
around after they got situated.
Raising an eyebrow at Derek's question, Melissa shakes her head because she
deems it to be a stupid one. "If you thought I was going to leave before
knowing that Stiles was OK, you're crazy," she explains, walking over so she
stands next to the teen in question. She drops the bag she carries on the table
and unzips it, pulling out a variety of medical supplies before turning back to
Stiles. After taking in the minor injuries on the teen's face, she picks up a
ball of cotton wool and some antibiotics and begins dabbing gently at the small
cuts on his cheekbone and lip. She puts a plaster over the former when she
decides it's clean enough, making sure to keep her touches gentle so she
doesn't wake him up. The way Derek is keeping a wary eye on her the whole time
is also another factor for her light technique.
Melissa is confused about the man's apparent reluctance to let her close to
Stiles before she remembers something she learned months ago. After finding out
about the supernatural world, she had gone to Deaton and demanded to know
everything about werewolves in an effort to be prepared for anything that might
happen to Scott in his new life. Among all of that information was a detailed
description about mates, telling of how werewolves tend to be territorial and
possessive for a while after the bond is formed. She glances down as
surreptitiously as she can at Stiles' neck, deliberately pulling his shirt down
a little bit when she retracts her hand, having finished taking care of the
injuries on the teen's face. She smiles to herself at what she finds, the
scarred set of teeth marks just above Stiles' shoulder confirming her theory.
"All done," she says finally, packing away her medical equipment once more.
Derek thanks Melissa before looking back over at Parrish. "What happens now?"
he asks, having no clue about what to do. He wonders what will happen to
Stiles, legally speaking, now that his last remaining parent is dead. He hopes
that the foster system doesn't get brought up, having heard many horror stories
from other people who landed in it and not wanting that for his mate in the
slightest. He knows he won't allow them to be separated, at the very least.
"Well, now that we've got your statement, we have to figure out where Stiles is
going to live now," Parrish says carefully, staring at the teen in question's
still-blank face. "Do you know if John had a will or anything like that?" He
flips closed his notepad and tucks it back inside his pocket, prepared to type
it all out again on his computer and add it to the case file already started
there.
When silence fills the room, Derek having no clue about whether Stiles' dad had
planned for his death or not—he figures the man must have, being the sheriff
and all—Melissa speaks up, breaking it. "I know he did," she comments, slinging
her bag back over her shoulder. "I helped him write it. I don't know where he
kept it, but I know it stated that in the event of his death, I would be made
Stiles' legal guardian. I had to sign it. When you guys have finished with the
house, I'll go through everything and see if I can locate it." She doesn't
think leaving the task up to Stiles himself is the best idea, the teen probably
too fragile at that moment in time to have to think about things like that. She
resolves to take care of everything to make this new transition as easy on him
as she can. She knows she's already stretched thin as it is because of all the
shifts she needs to take at the hospital in order to pay her bills on time, but
she doesn't care. Stiles is worth it, in her eyes.
"That'd be helpful, thank you," Parrish accepts, getting up from his seat and
turning to face Derek. "Stiles will have to come in at some point in the next
few days to give his own account of how things went down, but for now I think
we have all we need. You're all free to go; just take as good care of him as
you can, OK?" He's come to think of Stiles as something of a little brother,
and he only exits the room when he receives a nod of acknowledgement from the
other man, leaving the door open behind himself.
Melissa stands in the doorway as she waits for Derek and Stiles to get ready to
leave. "We can go straight back to my house, if you want," she offers, pleased
when the alpha accepts.
Wanting to get Stiles settled in a place he finds familiar and comforting,
Derek pulls away from the teen and holds his face in his large hands, very much
aware that Melissa is watching his every move. The plaster the woman had put
over his cheek is rough beneath his palm. "Stiles?" he asks, trying to find any
indication in his mate's eyes that he's beginning to come out of his shock. He
breathes a deep sigh of relief when Stiles' eyes actually snap up to meet his
own, intelligence seeming to reenter their depths so that they're no longer
unsettlingly empty and lifeless. He smiles kindly when he sees how sad they
still look, understandably so. "You back with me now?" When Stiles nods, his
hands moving with the action, he leans forward and places a kiss on the teen's
forehead before getting to his feet, pulling his mate up with him. He follows
Melissa out of the station and is surprised when he finds the rest of his pack
gathered in a tight group outside. He asks what they're doing there, already
guessing the answer. His theory is proven to be correct when Scott replies to
his question.
"It didn't feel right for us to be apart right now," Scott explains, pushing
away from where he leans against the side of his bike. His eyes linger on
Stiles.
"Well, we're heading back home for now," Melissa interrupts, wanting to get
everybody somewhere private. She knows the news that the sheriff has been
murdered will soon spread throughout the town and, her maternal instincts
kicking in full force, she doesn't want Stiles out in the open when it does.
He'll be the recipient of enough shameless staring and gawking on whatever day
they end up arranging his dad's funeral to take place. "Stiles is going to be
staying with us for the foreseeable future." Leading the teen with a gentle
hand on his shoulder, she walks him over to her car and opens the door for him
to slide into the backseat. Derek obviously follows, his own hand never leaving
Stiles' body the whole time. When she moves around the vehicle to hop behind
the wheel, she notices that the rest of the pack is looking at her longingly,
imploringly. She sighs. "Fine... You can come, too, but you'll all need to head
back to your owns homes in a few hours. You've already been pushing it with how
long it's been since your parents have seen you."
The street outside the McCalls' house ends up being unfathomably crowded with
the pack's various vehicles. The living room is packed, Stiles and Derek at the
centre of it all. The human teen still isn't very talkative, though no one
expects him to be. For the most part, he lets everybody else provide the
conversation and just listens, letting it all fade out into a soothing white
noise. He does, however, register at some point that Isaac and Scott volunteer
to room together, the former giving up his own for Stiles and Derek to use for
the time being.
Everybody's mood improves significantly when there is a sudden knock on the
door. Isaac goes to answer it and immediately leaps at the person he finds
standing on the other side. Erica's clothes smell disgusting and her hair is as
tangled as he ever remembers seeing it, but for the most part she looks
alright. He is infinitely grateful for this, the girl having come to feel
something like an older sister to him in recent months. Smiling the entire
time, he watches as she gets passed around the whole pack, ending up in Boyd's
arms at the end. The dark-skinned beta doesn't let her go again.
Hours pass by in a blur until the majority of the pack begin to head off back
to their own homes. Before Stiles knows it, only himself, Derek, Scott and
Isaac remain. Melissa had reluctantly gone to get ready for her next shift at
the hospital some time ago. Before she leaves, she suggests that someone go to
Stiles' house to gather some of the boy's things if it looks like the police
are done looking over everything.
Stiles himself is in no condition to reenter the place in which his father died
not even a day ago and there's no way Derek is leaving his mate's side any time
soon. This leaves Scott and Isaac, who are relieved when they see just the one
police cruiser in the driveway when they pull up to the Stilinski household.
Yellow tape is stuck across the front door, the words 'CRIME SCENE DO NOT
CROSS' printed in thick black letters across it, so they fall back on their old
habits, going around the back and entering the building through Stiles' bedroom
window. The room looks untouched, they guess because the fight only took place
on the ground floor. Isaac's eyes widen when he sees that Derek's bloody
clothes are still laying right inside the door. He picks them up to take back
with him, thankful that the blood is now dry, not wanting any authority figure
to see them and start asking unwanted questions. When he crouches down to scoop
them up, he notices Derek's duffel bag underneath the bed and uses it to carry
the soiled garments.
Raiding Stiles' dresser, Scott pulls out as much as he thinks he can carry,
surprised when he finds the topmost drawer packed full of what his nose tells
him are Derek's clothes. He thinks to himself that his best friend and his
alpha will owe him for having to get so up close and personal with their
underwear. Shoving everything in the bag he brought with him, he walks down the
hallway and into the bathroom, grabbing the sparse toiletries that are in the
cabinet above the sink and putting them on top before zipping it up. When he
returns to Stiles' bedroom, he finds Isaac running his fingers along the many
possessions that are cluttered up on the desk set against the far wall. "You
ready to go?" he asks, breaking the other beta out of his inspection. Pleased
when he gets a nod in return, they leave. Back inside his own living room, he
hands the bag over to Derek, nodding in acknowledgement of the man's thanks. He
looks up at the clock and sees how late it's getting. Knowing how much catching
up he'll have to do in school the next day, he bids goodnight to the two still
sat on the sofa and jogs up the stairs.
Sitting down on Stiles' other side and leaning his head on the human teen's
shoulder, Isaac stays in the living room for a while. He is surprised when he
feels Stiles' fingers tangle through his hair but decides to say nothing about
it, choosing instead to huddle closer, practically purring in contentment.
After enjoying the contact for a few minutes, he pulls away and hugs both
Stiles and Derek before following Scott upstairs. He transfers his most
important belongings from his room into the other beta's in preparation for its
new inhabitants.
When he senses that exhaustion is getting the best of Stiles, Derek gently
pulls them both to their feet and—seeing the remnants of the sheriff's blood
that he wasn't able to get off earlier still on the teen's cheek and neck—leads
him in the direction of the McCalls' bathroom. He leaves Stiles in there while
he drops the bag of their clothes on the bed in Isaac's room. Turning on the
shower, he begins undressing his mate when it looks like Stiles isn't going to
do it himself before dropping his own clothes to the floor and stepping inside
the stall. The sight of Stiles' naked skin is enough to make his cock twitch
with interest, but he ignores it and keeps his touches as casual as he can,
knowing that the teen isn't in a good mindset for anything sexual right then.
Soon enough, the water that eddies down the drain remains clear, all the blood
and dirt gone. He dries them both efficiently and, when he sees that Stiles
looks as if he'll fall asleep on his feet at any second, sweeps one of his arms
beneath his mate's knees and hefts him up into his arms. Stiles is compliant
the entire time.
Focusing his hearing, Derek knows he doesn't have to worry about anybody seeing
them as he dashes across the hall and into Isaac's bedroom. He is pleased when
Stiles manages to find the energy to put his sleep clothes on himself—it
doesn't escape his notice that the teen opts for one of his Henleys, the fabric
hanging off of his slender frame—before crawling onto the bed, but his smile
turns into a frown when he notices the laser-like focus with which Stiles
stares at his own hands. He quickly slips on a random pair of boxer-briefs
before sliding onto the mattress as well. "Stiles? What's wrong?" he asks
worriedly, throwing the blankets over both of their legs. He instantly mentally
berates himself for the stupid question.
Tearing his gaze away from his hands almost painfully, Stiles peers up at
Derek, his eyes agonised. "Can you still love me?" he asks, his voice quiet,
cracking on every word as he feels his eyes grow wet with unshed tears. He has
a feeling there'll be many of those in the next few weeks.
Taken aback by the unexpected question, Derek is at a loss for words. He
scrambles to come up with something to say when Stiles looks down and away, a
resigned expression appearing on his face. "I don't understand why you'd ask
that," he finally settles on saying, scooting sideways and pulling them both
back so they're lying down, their heads resting side by side on the pillows. He
turns both of their bodies until they face one another. "Why wouldn't I love
you anymore? Nothing could make me stop loving you, Stiles. Nothing." He
injects as much conviction into his assurances as he can, hoping they'll be
enough to overcome whatever it is the teen is feeling.
"Because I killed someone," Stiles answers, sniffling and gripping the sheets
tightly in his hands, his knuckles turning white. He can't make sense of most
of his thoughts, his mind too muddled to begin sorting through them all. Even
so, his subconscious seems to know, the words spilling from his mouth before he
realises it. "I know Landon had to die... With all he'd done to us, there
wasn't any other possible outcome. It's just...the way it happened... I don't
like knowing I'm capable of something like that. It terrifies me."
Derek brings Stiles forward with a hand around the back of his neck, shifting
them both so that the teen's face is buried in his chest. He feels Stiles'
fingers latch onto the waistband of his boxer-briefs. "Like I said, I could
never stop loving you, Stiles..." he promises, his voice low, his breath
ruffling his mate's hair. "You're an amazing human being. You've seen and done
so much more than what most people do in their whole lives and come out the
other end intact. Yes, from what I've gleaned about Landon's death...it wasn't
pretty, and I'm sorry that you ended up having to be the one to kill him by
yourself. I honestly don't think I've ever met someone with as big a heart as
yours and I know what taking a life—even the life of someone so horrible—must
be doing to you. Unfortunately, feeling things deeply always comes with
negative aspects. I love that you're so determined to protect all of us as much
as you can, even though I don't approve that it puts you in the line of fire a
lot of the time. With how well you take care of all of us...even in the ways
you don't know about... How could you be anything else but good? I'll always be
here for you whenever you need me to remind you of what a good person you are."
"You promise?" Stiles asks, his vulnerable state regressing him back to needing
just a little bit more reassurance, almost childlike.
Smiling, Derek kisses the top of Stiles' head and closes his eyes. "I promise."
                                     * * *
- Friday, February 3rd, 2012 -
If anyone were to ask Stiles about everything that goes on during the next
couple of weeks, he wouldn't be able to give a proper answer. All he knows is
that Derek never leaves his side, for which he is eternally grateful. The alpha
has been there every lunchtime at school, when all of the staring and
whispering from the other students drove him so insane that he wanted to scream
at them all and tell them to fuck off. They'd meet on the bleachers, sitting
together at the very top, out of sight in the corner. Melissa managed to find
his dad's will the first day after it all happened. She was officially assigned
as his legal guardian shortly after. The McCalls' house has become a little
crowded with five occupants, but they seem to have been managing reasonably
well. He's heard Scott and Isaac arguing a few times, the two betas
unaccustomed to having to share a room and thus seeming to constantly end up
getting in each other's way. He'd offered to sleep on the sofa downstairs and
give Isaac his room back, but as soon as the words left his mouth, the curly-
haired beta had looked at him sadly and told him not to worry about it.
Another thing that sticks out in Stiles' mind is when Deaton had stopped by the
house that past weekend. He said that Scott had told him about everything that
happened, about how Stiles' powers had manifested in such a strange way. Having
gotten curious, he'd conducted some research. The 'spark' that the teen
apparently has within him, his innate ability to work magic that has allowed
him to manipulate mountain ash in the past, is what lets him use his fire in
unusual ways. The information had been a lot to take in, his mind still not
quite back to one-hundred percent. Deaton had left him with the suggestion that
they meet each week to practice using his spark. Derek had added to this,
mentioning that it would probably be best if Deaton came to the weekly training
sessions he'll be starting up soon and did it there.
The Friday of the second week is no different than all the other days. Stiles
and Derek sit in what is fast becoming Their Spot, watching faceless people
scurry between the buildings in the distance like ants. The only thing that has
changed is the almost overwhelming amount of anxiety flowing through Stiles'
body. The next day is his dad's funeral. He knows the whole town is likely to
attend and that he'll end up being the target of all of their curiosity and
scrutiny once again. He doesn't leave Scott's house other than to go to school
to avoid just that. The case of the sheriff's murder is still officially
unsolved and will probably remain that way indefinitely.
"I don't know if I even want to go tomorrow," Stiles mutters, swinging his legs
where they hang down beneath the bench on which he sits.
"To your dad's funeral?" Derek asks, tearing his eyes away from watching a
woman run around, trying in vain to catch all of the papers she's dropped as
they fly around in the wind. He knows the lunch hour is almost over and that
he'll soon have to head back into the trees before anyone sees him, killing
time there until the final bell rings, signalling the end of the day. Even
being that short distance away from his mate kills him. "You'll regret it if
you don't go."
Stiles sighs and turns sideways, lying back so that his head ends up in Derek's
lap. He stretches his legs out across the bench before resting them on either
side of the wooden plank, his knees bent and his feet just touching the ground.
He closes his eyes when he feels the alpha's hand find its way into his hair
and thinks idly that Derek seems to have an obsession with the thick strands.
He doesn't mind. "I know you're right... I'm just super nervous about it, you
know? Everybody's gonna be staring at me the whole time. I got enough of that
when my mom died; I don't need it again," he says quietly, folding his hands
atop his stomach. "And then there's the eulogy... I know it's my responsibility
and I'm OK with it, honestly. I just don't want to end up turning into a
blubbering mess with the whole town watching." He blinks his eyes and peers
curiously up at Derek when he feels the alpha's hand move from his hair to
stoke gently across his cheekbone.
Derek is left speechless for a moment when he sees the way the bright mid-
afternoon sun reflects off of Stiles' eyes, transforming their already
hypnotising colour into something that feels supernatural, almost ethereal. He
clears his throat awkwardly while his brain catches up. "I get that...but I
think everyone will understand if you do. If you're really that worried, just
look at me. I'll be sat right in front of you," he assures, the bell ringing as
soon as the last word leaves his lips, signalling that it's time for the teen
to head to his next class.
Getting to his feet, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and lays a
chaste kiss on the alpha's lips. "Thank you. You've been amazing through all of
this..." he breathes, stepping back and rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans
to dry them.
Balling up the brown bag of fast food he'd brought with him that day, Derek
tosses it expertly into the bin that sits a considerable distance away. His
time spent playing basketball as a teenager is still good for something, he
figures. He leads the way down the bleachers' steps until they get to the grass
of the empty lacrosse field. "Don't mention it. I know you'd do the same for
me," he dismisses, mirroring the shy smile he gets from Stiles in return. "I'll
see you after school, OK?"
They kiss one last time before parting ways, Stiles heading back into one of
the buildings and Derek back through the trees.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, February 4th, 2012 -
Looking at himself in the full-length mirror in Isaac's bedroom, Stiles fiddles
uncertainly with the red tie around his neck. He can't seem to get the knot to
look right and thinks he looks strange in the suit he currently wears, like
he's pretending to be something he's not. The clothes had been picked out by
Lydia and it of course fits perfectly, accentuating what she deems to be the
best parts of his body. He'd blanked her out when she was explaining it all,
but he did manage to catch her complementing his broad shoulders. In fact,
she'd insisted on having a say in everybody's outfit for the funeral, even
going so far as to pay for several of them herself. The only pack member she
couldn't wrangle under her control was Erica, the blonde refusing outright and
declaring that she'd choose her own clothes. She'll no doubt show up in
something outrageously inappropriate. She wouldn't be Erica if she didn't. The
day promises to be a very long and tiring one, because as soon as the funeral
is over he'll be heading over to his old house to make a start at packing up
all of his dad's things. He's dreads it and is just grateful that Parrish and
several of the other deputies have already taken care of anything work related,
leaving less for him to have to sort through himself. He is brought out of his
thoughts when the door opens behind him.
Isaac walks into the room, dressed in his own suit, paid for by Lydia. "You
doing OK in here?" he asks, watching as Stiles sighs and gives up his attempts
to make his tie cooperate. He steps up to the other teen and turns him around,
having a go at fixing the tie himself. It's a short process since he's always
had a proficiency for knotwork. "There, all done." He smoothes out Stiles'
collar again before giving the human an approving nod.
"Is it almost time?" Stiles asks, turning back to the mirror to examine Isaac's
work. The tie looks perfect, but it doesn't do much to improve how much of a
joke he thinks he looks. The skin beneath his eyes is unattractively dark,
since he'd been up for the entirety of the night before going over and over the
eulogy he'd written several days ago.
"In a minute, yeah," Isaac answers, taking a seat on the bed. It's the first
time he's been back in the room since he gave it up for Stiles and Derek to
use. He observes all of the changes they've made with interest. Even though
there aren't many belongings there anymore—the majority of Stiles' things still
being back at his dad's house and Derek not having much to begin with—it
definitely looks more homey now that two people are staying in it every night.
A worn copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo sits on the nightstand, one of
the corners singed black. He recognises it as the copy Derek had managed to
rescue from the remains of his loft. It's a reminder of a simpler time. Wanting
to lighten the mood a little, at least to diffuse the nerves he can sense
running through Stiles' body, he turns back to the other teen with a
mischievous smirk in place on his lips. "Wait 'til you see Derek in his suit.
You're gonna love it."
Raising an eyebrow at Isaac's reflection in the mirror, the corner of Stiles'
mouth twitches as he shakes his head. With one last deep breath, he decides
he's finally ready to face the day. "OK... Let's do this," he says, heading
straight for the open door. He finds the rest of the pack waiting for him in
the living room, sat across all of the sofas and on the floor around the coffee
table. This is the first time he's seen everybody's clothes and he rolls his
eyes at what he finds. Lydia's clutch and the pin on Jackson's tie are both
blue. Erica's nail polish matches the yellow of Boyd's belt buckle. In fact,
every couple's clothes coordinate with each other with a small pop of colour.
Looking down at his own bright red tie, he wonders what Derek will be wearing
to match him. He gets his answer when the alpha comes through from the kitchen.
As Isaac said, he stops breathing when he sees how amazing Derek looks dressed
up that smartly. The alpha looks particularly dapper and the thought flits
through his mind that they could probably have some fun together in their suits
at a later time. The red part of Derek's outfit isn't immediately obvious and
it takes him a minute to see the small ruby that has been encrusted right in
the centre of the man's triskelion necklace. At least now he knows why Lydia
wanted to borrow it earlier in the week.
"You ready to go?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow when he sees the obvious way
in which his mate continues to ogle him.
Stiles nods dumbly, finally realising that he's been staring with his mouth
hanging open for almost a minute now. He reasons to himself that it's only
natural. He bets that the majority of people would have the same reaction if
they were to see Derek in that outfit. The man looks like a sexier version of
James Bond.
The drive to the church where the funeral is taking place is a short one. When
they pull up outside the aged building, they all marvel at the sheer amount of
people that have converged there. As Stiles thought, it looks like the whole
town has turned up to pay their respects to the late sheriff. Also like he
thought, they all stare at him as the pack walk up the stone steps and head
through the huge, wooden doors. The pews are packed, the only space remaining
being right up at the front, reserved for friends and family. Large bouquets of
flowers are placed artfully around the open coffin. When Stiles' eyes land on
his dad's face, the man's skin pale and his eyes closed, he averts them
immediately, knowing nothing good would come out of looking at the body for a
time any longer than a passing glance. He ends up squashed in the middle of the
frontmost pew, Derek on his left and Melissa on his right. Both take one of his
hands in their own. He squeezes them gratefully as the priest addresses the
crowd.
Before Stiles knows it, the proceedings have all passed by and it's time for
him to step up to the dais. His hands shake as he walks up the steps, causing
him to almost drop the cards on which his speech is written. His heart almost
stops when he turns and sees the hundreds of pairs of eyes that stare up at him
expectantly. Just like Derek suggested he do on the bleachers yesterday, he
keeps his own fixed on the alpha's hazel pair. He has to look down at his cards
when he finds he can't remember how to begin. "Thank you for coming today," he
says, his voice unusually raspy. He clears his throat before continuing, this
time slightly louder to try and project confidence. "I know my dad would've
appreciated such a big turnout. I'm sure most of you know who I am by now,
probably even before today; I've certainly made a name for myself in this town
recently. My dad led an exciting and very tiring life. He used to tell me
stories when I was a kid, about how he and my mom met one day when she spilled
her coffee all over his deputy's uniform. I remember thinking then that it
sounded like something out of a bad romantic comedy and I guess I still kind of
do." He smiles fondly at the memory.
"When someone you love passes away, there is a strong temptation to remember
them perhaps a little too well. Misdeeds are forgotten. Offences are forgiven.
Only the most shining characteristics of our loved ones make it into the
version of them that we keep with us when they depart. That's never really the
case, you know? Everybody has things that trouble them, demons they have to
fight.
"Along with all the stress that working in law enforcement gave him, when I
came along...yeah, things weren't too easy for my dad," Stiles continues,
finally feeling up to addressing the crowd as a whole. He looks away from Derek
and directs his eyes at the rest of the room instead. "I was hyperactive and
loud and uncooperative, but he was always so patient, so kind. He was a
wonderful father and husband, but he wasn't without his faults. When my mom got
ill and eventually died, he would spend most nights at the bottom of a bottle
of whiskey. It took time, but he eventually got out of it with the help of my
best friend's mom and he was back to being my dad." He pauses for a few
seconds, reading the words bringing back up all of the emotions he felt when
what he just said took place. It takes a lot of effort not to let them overcome
him. "He tried so hard to protect this town for years. He helped so many people
and saved so many lives. He had this knack for seeing things that no one else
could, one that I know this town will miss. It's probably why he was so damn
good at his job..."
He doesn't know how he does it, but Stiles manages to make it through the rest
of his eulogy without breaking down in tears. He steps down as soon as he's
spoken the last word, retaking his seat next to Derek and leaving the rest of
the ceremony in the more capable hands of the priest. He leans his head on the
alpha's shoulder, emotionally exhausted, and rubs his cheek into the fabric of
his mate's jacket when he feels a strong arm wrap around his waist
comfortingly.
When the funeral comes to an end, the coffin lowered into the ground in the
cemetery, Stiles is forced to stand at the exit and accept everybody's
condolences as they leave. All of the words sound empty and disingenuous. It's
late in the evening by the time the pack drives over to the Stilinskis' empty
house. Everybody else heads through the front door while he stays outside,
looking up at the building. Derek stays there with him. When he finally works
up the courage to step inside the place, he sees that the pack have all split
off into different rooms with several cardboard boxes each. Lydia, ever the
bossy organiser, assigns him and Derek to his dad's bedroom. The alpha ends up
doing the bulk of the work while he just wanders around the room and relives
all of the memories the various knickknacks stored there instil in him. He
undoes the tie around his neck and tosses it to the floor, finding it too
restrictive now that it's not needed. When he gets to the framed photograph on
the bedside table, however, he stops in his tracks. It's a picture of both his
parents from when he was an infant. They look so happy and carefree and for
some reason this brings on the realisation that he is now an orphan. So many
members of the pack are orphans or only have one parent left... He and Derek
have more in common than ever now. It's after this thought that the tears he'd
held back during the funeral finally make their appearance.
Derek's head snaps up from where he's crouched beside the dresser when he hears
the hitches in Stiles' breathing. He'd been folding and packing up the
sheriff's clothes in order to donate them to the local Goodwill. He looks over
and sees the teen sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a picture in his
hands. Immediately dropping what he'd been doing, he rushes over to his mate
and crawls onto the bed behind the younger man, bracketing him in with his
legs. Tucking his chin over Stiles' shoulder, he swallows tightly when he sees
what photo the teen is looking at. "Stiles?" he asks, taking his mate's shaking
hands in his own when the picture ends up falling to the floor, the glass
smashing.
"I guess it never h-hit me until just now... He's really g-gone. I've got no
one left," Stiles croaks out, tears flowing like rivers.
Movement over by the door catches Derek's eye before he can respond to Stiles'
heart-wrenching words. He glances over to see the rest of the pack gathered
there, almost as if they're waiting for permission to come in. Seeing an
opportunity, he nods at them and is pleased when they all immediately crowd
around him and his sobbing mate. "You're wrong, Stiles," he says quietly, his
mouth close to the teen's ear. "You still have all of us." The sun begins going
down as he drags Stiles backward, positioning them so that they end up lying
diagonally across his dad's large bed. The pack all manage to find a place on
the mattress around them, fitting themselves together like Tetris pieces. By
the time the last of the sun's light disappears below the horizon, the teen in
his arms has cried himself out and has fallen into a deep sleep.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
- Sunday, February 5th, 2012 -
The next day is spent in a similar fashion to the previous evening. When the
sun begins to rise on Sunday morning, the pack leave Derek and Stiles curled up
on the sheriff's bed while they finish packing up almost everything in the
house. Every box is labelled using a thick, black marker until they're all
piled up in the entranceway and in the living room. They're split up into three
different categories: the things they guess Stiles will want to keep, the
things that'll be donated to charity and the things that will be thrown out
entirely. The human members spend most of their time in the attic, after the
dust gathered there irritated the betas' noses too much for them to stay in the
room for longer than a few seconds. They come across a myriad of treasures,
like the old clothes and trinkets they assume used to belong to Stiles' mother.
They automatically go into the Keep pile. An old record player is also up
there, along with several boxes of vinyl records. The only things that remain
untouched are the items too big to pack up in cardboard, like the furniture
that survived the fight with Landon, the mirrors and electronics, everything in
Stiles and the sheriff's bedrooms and the essentials in the main bathroom.
Everybody is just finishing up when Derek finally appears. He leaves his tie
and the jacket of his suit upstairs with Stiles, the jacket draped lovingly
over the teen's body. The top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone,
revealing the hair of his chest and the gold of the chain he always wears
around his neck nowadays. His eyes widen as he takes in everything his pack has
been able to get done in such a short amount of time. The house looks barren,
completely different from any other time he's seen it. It's like no one lives
there anymore, which, he guesses sadly, they technically don't. "Please tell me
you all got some sleep, at least," he breathes, tearing his eyes away from the
mountains of boxes and fixing them instead on the group of teenagers gathered
in the living room.
"Of course we did," Lydia replies, somehow still looking perfectly put together
after sleeping in her clothes, not a wrinkle in sight. Even her hair remains
meticulous.
Shrugging, Derek walks through to the kitchen and is glad when he sees the pack
have left a few glasses out on the countertop. He takes one and fills it with
cold water from the tap, groaning when the liquid runs down his throat and
cools his insides.
Wiping a hand over his mouth, Derek sets the glass back down and looks around
the room, inspecting his pack's work and checking to see whether they've missed
anything. He is pleased when he finds they haven't; even the food in the
fridge, cupboards and pantry has been cleared out. He doesn't have to guess
about where it all went. When he heads back into the living room, he frowns
when he sees that most of the pack are gathering their belongings, seemingly
getting ready to leave. "Where are you going?" he asks curiously, thinking that
perhaps they're all headed back to their own homes. He assumes their parents
must all be worried by now, as he doesn't remember a single person calling them
to inform them that they'd be staying the night elsewhere.
"We're going to Peter's cabin in the preserve," Isaac answers, pulling his
signature scarf out of nowhere and wrapping it around his neck. It looks
strange when combined with the smart suit he still wears, but he doesn't care
in the slightest. When he sees that his brief explanation only serves to
further confuse the alpha, he sniggers before expounding further. "We figured
there might still be some useful things over there, things he didn't have time
to grab before making his getaway. Someone should have it all now that he's
gone." He remembers spotting several items he would like to get his hands on
when he and Danny were there before, looking for Derek's mother's claws.
Derek nods in response, agreeing with his pack's logic. "Wait a few minutes,
OK? I want to come as well and I know Stiles won't want to be left here alone,"
he says in a rush, immediately dashing up the stairs and heading into the
sheriff's old bedroom. Stiles is still right where he left him, curled up on
his side with his knees tucked in close to his chest.
A deep frown wrinkles the teen's brow and his nose is buried in the material of
the alpha's jacket. Derek is loath to wake his slumbering mate, but like he
said downstairs, he knows he won't like being left behind. Taking a seat on the
edge of the mattress, he reaches out a hand and gently brushes back the wayward
strands of hair that have fallen down over the teen's forehead. When Stiles
shifts slightly, pushing his head into his hand, he smiles fondly and moves to
shake his mate's shoulder, hoping to rouse him with the light jostling. He
stops when he sees cinnamon eyes staring up at him, Stiles' eyelids only open
partway, still half asleep. "Hey," he greets, leaning down to press a chaste
kiss on the teen's lips when he extricates his face fully from Derek's jacket.
"The others are going to head out and look through Peter's cabin, see if they
can't find anything useful. You want to come with?"
His mind sluggish as it brushes off the last remnants of unconsciousness, it
takes Stiles a few seconds to understand what Derek is saying. When he does, he
immediately sits upright, propping his body up with a hand against the sheets.
He rubs tiredly at his eyes to clear the sleep from the corners before
answering. "Yeah, sure," he mumbles, letting Derek help him off of the bed with
a guiding hand around his waist. When the alpha's jacket falls off of his body
with the movement, he stares down at it in confusion.
Seeing what has caught Stiles' gaze, Derek feels his face heat up slightly
before he explains quietly. "I didn't want you to get cold, so..." he whispers,
smiling shyly when his mate looks up at his face again.
"Ugh, it's too early in the morning for you to be this adorable..." Stiles
mutters, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. He winces when he
registers what a bad case of morning breath he has, immediately walking past a
still-blushing Derek and heading into the bathroom. He pauses when he sees that
his and Derek's toothbrushes are already laid out on the counter next to the
sink. Figuring the pack must have been busy while he was conked out, he hastens
to brush his teeth, smiling to himself in the mirror when all he tastes is
minty freshness. His theory about the pack's work is proven to be correct when
he stumbles downstairs on Derek's heels, his eyes instantly snapping to the
many boxes of his things on the ground floor. His mouth hangs open dumbly
before he notices that Derek is looking at him expectantly from where he stands
next to the open front door.
Pulling himself together, Stiles takes the breakfast bar the alpha hands him,
smiling at the man gratefully as he tears into the wrapper and demolishes it,
his appetite ravenous. When he steps outside, Derek shutting and locking the
door behind him, he sees that the pack is already gathered by their many cars
parked in the street, no doubt waiting for him.
"Alright then, let's get going!" Lydia commands, turning on her heel and
marching over to Jackson's Porsche, the dirty blonde beta in tow.
                                     * * *
When they pull up to the outside of Peter's cabin, the pack all immediately get
out of their cars and make a beeline for the front door, wanting to get out of
the cold. Flicking the main light on, Derek takes in the wide expanse of the
living room slash kitchen area with intense focus. Everything is how he and
Stiles had left it after their brief search of the place a couple of weeks
previous. He watches as his pack splits off into pairs, each choosing a
different area to rifle through. Naturally, they all flock toward the more
interesting areas of the building, leaving himself and Stiles with the
delightful job of searching through Peter's bedroom and bathroom. He assumes
he'll end up leaving most of what he finds there where it is, untouched and
unwanted. Feeling generous, he gives his mate the task of going through the
desk while he tackles the dresser.
Derek scoffs derisively when he sees the sheer amount of v-neck t-shirts his
uncle owned. He knew the older man had an absurd amount of the things since he
always appeared to be wearing one, but the actual number of them in the drawers
is still more than he would have thought. It makes him reconsider his own
preference for them.
Holding one of the v-necks up, Derek turns to Stiles and raises an eyebrow at
the teen expectantly. "What do you think? I should probably change my entire
wardrobe, huh?" he asks, his sarcastic tone not covering up the fact that he
really is asking the question seriously.
Stiles looks up from where he'd been looking through the top drawer of Peter's
desk and peers over at Derek. It takes him a second to realise what the alpha
means. He shakes his head when he understands. "No, I don't think so," he
answers confidently, the activity of searching the late beta's cabin taking his
mind off of his dad's death, improving his mood significantly. "I love your v-
necks; you look good in them. You shouldn't stop wearing them just because
Peter liked them, too." His eyes flick down to where the topmost buttons of
Derek's shirt are still undone, creating a rather deep neckline that allows the
alpha's chest hair to peek out. He very much approves of the sight and
definitely wants to see more of it in the future.
Tossing Peter's shirt back into the drawer from which it came, Derek shuts it
as he thinks over Stiles' words. He doesn't offer a proper response, but he is
secretly pleased that his mate likes the way he dresses and makes the decision
then and there to buy nothing but v-neck Henleys in the future.
After a few minutes, Stiles gives up searching in the desk when he fails to
happen across something interesting. He pushes away from it and crouches down
next to the bed, looking underneath it to see if anything is hidden on the
floor there. He doesn't expect Peter to have used such a juvenile and easy-to-
find hiding place, but when he looks back against the wall, below where the
head of the bed would be, his assumption about the man is proven to be wrong.
Reaching across the floor, he stretches his arm as far as it can go in his
mission to get his hands on whatever the mystery object hidden in the shadows
is. He almost pulls his shoulder out of its socket—he grunts quietly at the
twinge of pain he feels flare up in the joint—before he finds success. His
fingers closing around their target, he shuffles backward and drags it out
across the carpet before looking at it, confused. He hears Derek step up behind
him and turns his head to peer up at the alpha, wondering if he recognises what
he's just found. When he sees his mate's eyes widen, he knows he's struck gold.
Derek drops down to kneel on the floor next to Stiles and takes what the teen
has in his hands into his own almost reverently. "Where did you find this?" he
asks breathlessly. He rips open the clasp on the black leather briefcase in his
lap, tipping its contents out onto the floor.
"It was under the bed," Stiles answers easily, leaning forward to inspect the
papers that now lay in a pile on the carpet. He doesn't understand what he
reads. "What are they?"
"They're my family's old bearer bonds..." Derek explains, his eyes never
leaving the papers in question. "I thought they were lost in the fire, but I
guess Peter's had them this whole time." He curses his uncle's deviousness and
feels another surge of vindictive happiness that the older man is now dead.
Again.
Stiles watches Derek's enraptured face closely, cataloguing the emotions he
sees run across the alpha's handsome features. He is surprised to hear that the
Hales had such things tucked away, but from the stories he remembers hearing as
a child—about what a wealthy and prestigious family the Hales have always been,
generation after generation—he supposes he shouldn't be. "What does that mean?
How much are they worth?" he asks excitedly, the possibility that Derek might
not ever have to worry about money being one that comforts him immensely. If
anyone deserves financial security, it's his selfless mate.
Flicking through all of the bonds in his lap, Derek counts everything that's
there and totals it up in his head. His eyes widen when he comes up with a
final number. "One-hundred-and-seventeen million dollars..." he answers, his
voice cracking on the last word. He can't believe Peter tried to keep something
like this from him. The thoughts of what he could potentially do with such a
large sum of money enter his mind. At the very least, this new discovery
cements the idea of rebuilding his old house, making him certain it's what he
wants for his mate and his pack. He'll give them everything they could possibly
need or want. The alpha in him is preening, incandescently happy at being able
to provide for its pack. He puts the bonds back inside the briefcase and tucks
it underneath his arm.
Deciding that he's done with his search, Derek heads toward the bedroom's open
door and sticks his head out into the hallway, looking down it to gauge where
the rest of his pack have gotten to. He sees that they all appear to be having
fun, either finding the odd useful item or making fun of Peter's old, more
often than not pretentious possessions.
Walking into the en suite bathroom, Stiles switches on the light and instantly
heads over to the cabinet above the sink when he sees nothing else interesting
is in immediate sight. Opening it, he marvels at the jars of strange plants and
herbs he finds on the shelves there. Figuring that they could turn out to be
useful, especially now that he's supposed to begin learning about this stuff in
his weekly training sessions with Deaton, he pockets as many as he can,
carrying the rest precariously in his hands. When he walks back into the
bedroom, he finds that Derek has left. Frowning, he exits the room and heads
out into the living room instead, relieved when he finds the alpha has taken up
residence on the expensive-looking leather sofa in the middle of the room. The
rest of the pack are still scurrying about the room, having not yet looked
their fill.
Stiles sees that Lydia is scanning over the hundreds of books that are in the
many bookcases, looking for any titles that jump out at her. Danny, Isaac and
Scott are looking through the cupboards in the kitchen, taking out the sparse
food they find there and immediately shoving it all in their mouths. Shaking
his head in exasperation, Stiles takes a seat next to Derek. Leaning heavily
into the alpha's side, he settles in for what he assumes will be a long wait.
                                     * * *
Having finally decided on the things they want to take with them from Peter's
cabin, on their alpha's orders, the pack's next stop is over to the high
school. Because it's a Sunday, the campus is empty of civilians, allowing them
to park close to the sign and wander about without fear of being seen. Derek
swiftly uses his claws to open the entrance to the vault and leads the way down
into the pitch black hallway. He feels Stiles grip onto the back of his shirt,
the human unable to see much. During his last trip down beneath the school, he
hadn't had much time to examine everything that was left in the main room, too
preoccupied with rescuing his pack to take notice of much else. Now that he has
the luxury, as soon as he steps foot in the room, he allows himself to browse
through all of his family's old treasures to his heart's content.
It feels incredibly cathartic for Derek, as if laying his eyes on everything
that was deemed special enough to be kept down there helps him to let go of his
grief, of all the negative emotions that have always plagued him whenever he's
thought about his family since the fire that killed them all.
When he's finally able to see more than a foot in front of himself, Stiles
releases his hold on Derek's shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles his grip has
caused before moving away to examine everything in the room with avid interest.
It feels like a gift that the alpha is allowing him this glimpse into his past.
He sees Scott head directly over to a box on one of the shelves and walks over
to join his friend in his search. "Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks casually, the
way the beta instantly zeroed in on his target making him curious.
Glancing up at Stiles, Scott rips off the box's lid and immediately starts
shuffling through the papers held within before answering. "Landon took
something from here when he checked up on us once..." he mutters, growing
frustrated when he finds that every piece of paper he pulls out appears to be
blank. "He wouldn't tell us what he was after." Growing tired of going through
the sheets one by one, he tips the box out onto the floor just like his captor
had done, figuring it will let him get through them all more efficiently. He
barely notices that Stiles crouches down on the floor next to him to help.
Smiling, he huffs out a short breath through his nose when he finally sees some
of papers have printed text on them.
Pulling one of them out of the pile, Scott scans through the words quickly,
searching for anything that stands out. Most of it doesn't make sense to him,
but a realisation strikes him when he gets down near the bottom. "They're
copies of his adoption papers." He gapes at what he sees, unable to believe
that Landon would've wanted to find them so desperately.
Stiles looks up from the pile in shock, snatching the paper from Scott's hands
to peruse it himself, expecting his friend to be wrong. He frowns when he sees
it written there, clear as day. The page is just one of what must have been
Landon and Jeremy's adoption records. Their biological parents' names are
listed at the bottom. They look like photocopies. "Hmm... Maybe he was planning
on going and finding them when he was done with us?" he muses, feeling like
he's just pulling theories out of his ass to make sense of this new, baffling
discovery.
"Whatever..." Scott dismisses, standing up again now that his seemingly
insatiable curiosity has finally settled. "I don't really care why that psycho
was after them. It was just bugging me ever since I got out of here and, now
that I know, I'm good again."
Watching Scott wander off to join Isaac and Jackson by another shelf, Stiles
gathers all of the papers up in his hands and taps the edges against the ground
to neaten the pile up. He puts them back in the box before thinking that Derek
might want to keep them, since they're a connection from him to Jeremy. He
walks up behind the alpha. When he informs his mate of his and Scott's find, he
knows he's made the right call, Derek's face transforming into a mixture of
wistfulness and gratefulness.
The rest of the pack's visit to the vault is fairly uneventful. Derek leaves
most everything he finds where it is, knowing that it was put there for a
reason and wanting to respect his mother's wishes. He does take a couple of
keepsakes, though: a heavy, metal pendant that has his favoured triskelion
symbol embossed onto the front and an album filled with copies of old family
photographs, the original versions of which all burned up years ago. He can't
wait to go through it with Stiles later. All in all, he figures that it was a
good idea to go back down there. He looks over at the teen and sees him looking
with interest at several jars of old herbs, similar to the ones he took with
him from Peter's cabin.
Derek smiles kindly when Stiles looks strangely nervous about taking them,
almost as if his mate was afraid of upsetting him. An easy nod tells the teen
otherwise and, together, they walk back out of the vault, a flash of red eyes
ordering the rest of the pack to follow.
                                     * * *
- Sunday, July 8th, 2012 -
Five months later, Stiles opens his eyes where he lies in his and Derek's king-
size bed. He is surprised when he realises he isn't being held by the alpha's
strong arms, in which he's grown accustomed to waking. Raising his head, he
turns over to face his mate's side of the bed and sees a folded up piece of
paper laying there on the pillow. Smiling because the man left a note for him
so he wouldn't worry, he unfolds it and reads the handwritten text scrawled
across the lined stationary. A short message stares back at him—'Gone for a
quick run in the preserve. Be back soon. Love, your Sourwolf'—and his smile
turns into a huge grin at the obvious reminder that Derek has finally accepted
his nickname. The fact that the alpha doesn't really get annoyed anymore at
being addressed as such does take a little bit of the fun out of it, but he
carries on using the nickname regardless, his tone always affectionate.
Stretching, Stiles enjoys the seemingly endless space in the bed for a while,
lounging there and just thinking over how much his life has changed in the last
few months. He still misses his dad everyday, the hole the man left in his
heart a constant ache in his chest, but he knows that Derek does everything in
his power to fill the empty space.
The older man succeeds at keeping his spirits up most of the time, but Stiles
still has the odd day when depression and grief seem to hit him extra hard. On
those days, Derek will just hold him and tell him over and over that everything
will feel OK again soon enough. He hasn't been wrong yet.
The new Hale house had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to rebuild.
Because of the money found in Peter's cabin, Derek was able to get the best
contractors and construction workers out in the preserve to work on it in no
time. The alpha had shied away from being in the area during the actual
demolition, not wanting to see his old family's home finally torn to the
ground. It brought back memories and emotions he had been hoping would stay
repressed and forgotten forever. That week, their roles were reversed and
Stiles had been the one to take care of his mate instead. While Derek still
keeps up his cool and collected front around the rest of the pack, whenever
they're alone together, they've been learning to open up to each other and
become more vulnerable. Stiles feels so damn privileged that he gets to see
Derek like that, knowing how many times the man's enormous heart has been taken
advantage of.
After that difficult week, the new place was built in record time, taking just
a month to construct. It passed all of the safety inspections with flying
colours and ended up being three storeys tall. Derek had moved straight into
the master bedroom as soon as it was completed and the keys were handed over,
beginning to make himself at home that same day.
After a sleepless night back in Isaac's bedroom at the McCalls' house, Stiles
had a discussion with Melissa and they quickly came to the conclusion that he
would move in with his mate the next day. Things were becoming strained in the
smaller house anyway. The human teen knew that Melissa was finding it difficult
managing having two extra bodies in her home, even though the woman never said
a word, so his and Derek's exit was kismet.
Since most of the new house was still empty, Lydia had taken it upon herself to
force the pack on a long trip to Ikea. She surmised that the pack would end up
spending the majority of their time there and so there needed to be adequate
furnishings to accommodate such a large group of teenagers. She and Derek had
ended up getting into several arguments while they made their way through the
humongous store, trying and failing to come to a consensus about which table or
which fridge to buy. Stiles had stepped in every time before things could get
out of hand, before they ended up drawing a crowd or potentially getting
themselves kicked out. He sided with his mate on everything. The smug smile
that would appear on Derek's face after each item was chosen didn't escape his
notice, nor did Lydia's outrage. The girl was positively vexed by the time they
were done shopping, staying obstinately silent on the journey back home. Stiles
figures it was worth it just to keep Derek smiling.
Everything they had picked out was delivered to the house the next day and
subsequently put together by all of the betas, following a flash of red eyes.
After giving the other wolves specific instructions on how to set everything
up, leaving the colours of the walls in Lydia's hands to get her to stop being
mad at him, Derek had kept Stiles away from the house while the pack finished.
He didn't want his mate to see it before everything was ready.
Even going so far as to cover Stiles' eyes when they pulled up to the place,
Derek didn't take his hands back again until they were both stood on the grass
in front of the steps. Stiles had been unable to believe his eyes when he got
his first look at the finished house. He already knew what the outside looked
like. The exterior is all painted a crisp white with a wrap-around porch on the
ground floor, complete with porch swing. When he'd walked in the front door,
he'd clamped a hand over his mouth as Derek led him on a complete tour of their
new home.
The living room is massive, with three large sofas placed around a black coffee
table. They all point toward a roaring fireplace, above which hangs a
ridiculously large flatscreen television. The walls are painted a happy yellow,
instantly creating a welcoming atmosphere. Next came the kitchen, which ended
up becoming one of Stiles' favourite parts of the house, second only to his and
Derek's bedroom. An island stands in the middle of the pale, hardwood floor,
around which are seven expensive-looking stools. The tiles of the countertops
are all white, a contrast to the dark wood of all of the cupboards. The oven is
huge, with several shelves inside and six spaces on the stove on top. An
industrial-size fridge and freezer sit side by side against one of the sky blue
walls, a necessity because of the sheer amount of food all of the wolves
consume each day.
All of the appliances are top-of-the-line—"Nothing but the best for you,
Stiles," Derek had said—and everything is so pristine and modern-looking. He'd
actually spent half an hour hugging and kissing the countertop in his happiness
with the place, spending equally as long doing the same things to the alpha
when he was able to pull himself away from the smooth surface to show his
gratitude.
The rest of the tour passed quickly. The laundry and dining rooms were the last
stops on the ground floor, the latter of which simply consists of a beautiful
table surrounded by twelve chairs. The second floor is made up entirely of
bedrooms and bathrooms.
There are six spare bedrooms, one for each of the four couples, one for Cora
and one for any parent who doesn't feel like driving home if they end up
staying late. Melissa has used it a couple of times. The master bedroom had
taken Stiles' breath away. He instantly thought it was perfect. A king-size bed
is set against one of the walls, the sheets of which are lime green. They're
incredibly soft and Derek had informed him that they have a thread-count of a
thousand after he'd asked about them. The walls are painted a rich forest
green, reminding him of the preserve outside. He guesses that was probably the
whole reason the colour was chosen. The carpet is a simple cream, which gets
dirtied very easily. Because of this, Stiles ends up vacuuming it every week to
keep it looking nice. The en suite bathroom is bright and white.
A large, clawfoot bathtub is set against one of the walls. It's big enough for
two people to fit comfortably inside, and Stiles and Derek have already taken
advantage of that fact many times in the months they've been living there. Many
bubble baths have been had at the end of long, stressful days. A shower is also
installed inside a small alcove, right next to the toilet and sink.
Up on the third and final floor is a huge library. Apparently, soon after the
house was finished, Derek had gone back to Peter's cabin and rescued all of the
books the man used to own and moved them up there instead. There are also a
substantial amount of books from Deaton, which the vet had been generous enough
to give to the pack, seemingly out of the goodness of his own heart. On the
other half of the room is what looks like a whole entertainment centre.
Games consoles and stacks of DVDs and Blu-ray discs surround the television set
into the wall there. Derek's reasoning had been that, since the pack is so big,
there are bound to be times when they cannot all come to a decision on what to
do or watch. Now that they have two rooms, those arguments should be fewer and
further between.
The last stop on the tour had been down into the basement. A state-of-the-art
home gym is set up down there, perfect for all of the pack to work out in
whenever they want while also avoiding gym fees. When Stiles had asked Derek
about a door that was set into one of the walls, the alpha had walked over and
opened it, revealing a long hallway that looked strangely familiar to the teen.
It turned out that Derek had connected the basement to the old catacombs his
family used to train in. He'd also gone through everything down there and given
it all a complete overhaul. Stiles gaped in shock as he was led along the
corridors, unable to believe how nice and homey it all looked. The training
rooms are now equipped with a myriad or weaponry, provided by Chris Argent. The
man had charged Derek for all of it, of course, but the alpha didn't mind,
knowing that giving his pack a proficiency with lots of different types of
weapons and combat styles will no doubt prove to be useful in the future.
On weekdays, the hours of free time the pack has after school are all spent for
the most part hanging around what has been dubbed the 'Pack House', the place
having ended up looking better than anything in their own respective homes,
even Jackson's and Lydia's.
The weekends are especially crazy, the pack always roping Stiles into cooking
extravagant meals for them while they host study sessions in the living room.
He puts on a show every time, acting put out and unimpressed, but does it
anyway, secretly happy about being wanted and needed by everybody. He'll leave
the food cooking on the stove or in the oven every now and then to help
whenever one of the other teens is struggling. The large window that is set
into the wall above the sink gives him a perfect view through to the back
garden, allowing him to keep a close eye on the betas should they ever get up
to any mischief out there.
The garden itself is kept looking well-cared-for, with several flowerbeds
spread around the outside. Stiles was surprised to find that he rather enjoys
tending to it in whatever free time he manages to find. He's even started
growing his own vegetables to use in his cooking.
Stiles' immense love for his and Derek's new home had lessened considerably
when he realised that, because it's so big, it takes forever to clean. Luckily,
Derek is more than willing to give him a helping hand in that department so
that he still has enough time to keep up with his school work. That had been
one of the conditions of his moving in there in the first place, Melissa having
been adamant that his grades had better not slip. He also finds himself using
his new alpha-mate authority to make sure the betas all clean up after
themselves whenever they make a mess—which, usually because of Scott, is quite
a common occurrence.
After a particularly embarrassing incident involving Erica and Boyd and one of
the spare bedrooms, Stiles had searched fervently through all of the books he'd
been gifted by Deaton for a solution to their little problem. Derek had
informed him during one of their late-night talks that, when his family's old
house was first built generations ago, the emissary at the time had performed a
spell which made all of the bedrooms soundproof.
The spell was deemed a better option than sticking to traditional methods,
since it only worked when the room's occupants wanted it to. If anybody ever
ended up being in any danger, the rest of the pack would still be able to hear
their cries for help. With Deaton's assistance, Stiles had been able to find
and cast the same spell, which meant that Erica and Boyd could fuck like
bunnies to their hearts' content without disturbing everybody else with their
lewd moaning and groaning. Stiles still doesn't know why they don't just go to
one of their own houses to copulate, but he's never felt up to asking either of
them.
When he finally finds the energy to leave the comfort of the bed, Stiles heads
straight downstairs. He doesn't bother to put on any clothes, feeling perfectly
comfortable clad in just his underwear now that his weight is back up to what
it had been before Scott was bitten and because he's packed on a little more
muscle from his few sessions with Derek in the gym in the basement. He thinks
his body will always remain on the svelte side of things, but he doesn't mind
and his mate doesn't seem to either, if the way he's caught the older man
eyeing him appreciatively whenever they're getting ready for bed each night is
anything to go by. Passing by the living room on his way to the kitchen, he is
surprised to find that Isaac is currently lounging across the sofa, watching
some nature documentary. Taking a detour, he heads over to the beta instead,
standing just behind the sofa and returning the wide smile Isaac sends him, the
wolf having tipped his head back when he heard his approach. "Hey, puppy," he
greets, tussling Isaac's curly hair. "What're you doing over here so early?"
It's not exactly unusual for his favourite beta to suddenly appear in the house
early in the mornings, but Stiles worries a little every time he does, since it
normally means the wolf has suffered a nightmare that caused him to want to be
closer to his alpha and alpha's mate. The occurrences are slowly becoming rarer
and rarer as Isaac battles through his old demons.
As Stiles was expecting, Isaac's features crumple slightly, faint traces of
lingering fear contorting them unattractively. Fully understanding what it's
like to be stuck in the grip of his own dreams hours after he's awoken from
them, he winces sympathetically and smiles softly, the hand he still has in the
beta's hair moving to scratch gently against his scalp.
Isaac practically purrs in contentment, his pack mom's affectionate touches
always making him feel better, no matter what's wrong. Derek's presence is also
a big help, but since the alpha isn't around at that moment—and also because
Stiles always seems more nurturing and comforting anyway—he usually ends up
going to the human for reassurance. It should feel degrading to be pet like one
would a cat or a dog, but, unlike Jackson, he revels in it, touch-starved.
"Just the usual," he replies lazily, only just managing to gather the mental
capacity to open his mouth.
Humming his understanding, Stiles gives Isaac one last good scratch before
retracting his hand and continuing on his way to the kitchen. The coffee pot
ends up being his first stop, the thing being immediately filled with water and
switched on. He is surprised that Derek didn't do it before he left for his run
earlier. He forgoes adding any sugar to the drink, his mate having actually
proven to be a positive influence when it comes to respecting his body. His
teeth are probably thankful as well. When he brings the steaming mug to his
lips, his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he notices that his nails are
bright yellow. He wonders how in the hell that happened before remembering that
Erica and Lydia had practically held him down the previous evening while they
painted them. The blonde had growled disapprovingly every time he'd reached for
the bottle of nail polish remover on the coffee table. He'd eventually given
up, deciding to just leave it alone if it made her so damn happy.
Stiles actually moans when he takes his first sip of coffee, finding the hot
liquid incredibly soothing as it runs down his throat and warms his stomach. As
he drinks, his mind wanders to the rest of the pack meeting that took place in
the living room last night. It wasn't particularly eventful, but he looks back
on it fondly anyway.
Nowadays, Stiles treasures each and every moment he gets to spend with his
pack, figuring that he doesn't know for sure how many of those bonding sessions
they have left. He tries not to be pessimistic, but he can't help the constant
fear in the back of his mind that some other great evil will come along soon
enough and threaten to destroy them all. Thankfully, things have been quiet
since he dispatched Landon. Wondering how much longer Derek will be, it isn't
until he's finished with his first mug of the day that he hears the front door
open, signalling the alpha's return.
Watching the doorway in anticipation, Stiles hears Derek greet Isaac on his way
through, and almost drops the mug in his hand when the man finally enters the
room. Following his dad's death, Stiles' sexual appetite seemed to disappear
again overnight.
Stiles doesn't know why, but it annoyed him greatly. Because of this, he and
Derek haven't made love since that first memorable, perfect time. Lately,
though, his libido has started to wake up again. He hasn't said anything to
Derek yet, wanting to wait until he feels fully ready for it to bring the
subject of sex up with his mate. When he lays eyes on the man now,
though...yeah, the heat in his lower stomach tells him unquestionably that
their long wait is mercifully over.
Apart from the running shoes on his feet, Derek wears nothing but an obscenely
tight, grey tank top and an old pair of thin, royal blue basketball shorts. The
neck of the tank is stretched larger than it should be, revealing most of the
man's glorious chest, the glistening skin covered in dark hair. His triskelion
necklace is nowhere in sight, Stiles guesses because it would've been a bit of
a nuisance when trying to run. The material of the tank is soaked with sweat,
staining his chest, back and underarms dark. Derek sends him a small smile as
he walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. The human can do
nothing but watch as his mate unscrews the cap and raises the opening to his
lips, tipping his head back as he gulps down the ice-cold liquid. Derek's
raised arm gives him a teasing glimpse at the dark hair nestled in his armpit
and, when the older man scratches at his stomach with his free hand, his top
rides up, revealing a narrow strip of his toned stomach.
The hair that runs down from his mate's navel stands out in contrast to the
pale skin around it and the waistband of his basketball shorts hangs
dangerously low on his hips, almost as if they'll fall to the floor at the
tiniest gust of wind. This allows the gaping teen to get an eyeful of the sharp
cut of his hips and of the thick, curly pubic hairs that peek out from the top
of his shorts.
When Derek shifts slightly, cocking his hip, Stiles' eyes are drawn further
down, zeroing in on the obvious bulge of the alpha's crotch. Quite a bit larger
than the average man's even when flaccid, his mate's cock swings heavily
between his muscular, hairy thighs.
Stiles licks his lips at the sight, salivating in anticipation as he imagines
having them wrapped around the thick, hot shaft again. He doesn't think his own
cock has ever gotten so hard so quickly. It's only when Derek finishes drinking
and walks past him to put the now-empty bottle in the recycling bin—allowing
him to finally get a whiff of his musky, sweaty body—that he spurs into action.
As soon as the bottle leaves Derek's fingertips, he pounces, spinning his mate
around and pulling him down with a demanding hand around the back of his neck.
When their lips connect, he feels Derek gasp, giving him the entrance he was
seeking. He shoves his tongue deep inside the alpha's mouth, running it along
the other man's and drinking in the deep, rumbling groan that Derek releases at
the unexpected contact.
Winding his fingers into the sweat-damp strands of his mate's hair, Stiles tugs
lightly to elicit even more of those intoxicating sounds, the vibrations of
which he feels through the damp material of Derek's tank top when their chests
bump against each other.
Derek certainly didn't think this would happen when he returned from his run.
He'd been happy enough just getting to be close to the teen for the past few
months, regardless of whether or not they actually made love in that time. He'd
taken care of his own needs privately whenever he showered alone. He definitely
can't say he minds this sudden change in the pace of their relationship,
though, quickly getting with the programme and taking control of the kiss.
Cupping his hands around Stiles' smooth cheeks, Derek tilts the teen's head
just so, the uncontrollable rumbling in his chest increasing in volume when he
hears the pleased little whimper the new angle draws from his mate's long
throat. Feeling Stiles becoming more insistent, he moves his hands down and
fits them around his mate's thighs, just beneath his ass, and pulls, drawing
him up off of the floor and urging him to wrap his slender legs around his
waist. The new position lets him feel the teen's cock rubbing against his
abdominal muscles. He moans when Stiles gyrates his hips in small circles,
grinding his erection against his stomach in an attempt to get some relief.
Derek feels his own cock beginning to tent his shorts, curving up until it
slips between his mate's ass cheeks, almost like it's searching for his tight
entrance with a mind of its own. The head pushes demandingly at the fabric in
the way of its target.
Reluctantly pulling away from the intense kiss, Derek leans their foreheads
together and looks into Stiles' half-lidded eyes, swallowing at the want he
finds there. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have brought things to a halt, but since
this is the first true bout of passion they've shared since his mate's dad was
killed, he needs to know if this is actually going where he thinks—and hopes;
his hand can only do so much—it is. "Stiles...are you sure you're up for this
again?" he asks quietly, very conscious of the fact that one of his betas is
still in the next room just a few feet away, more than within hearing distance.
Adjusting his grip on Stiles' ass when he feels him slipping slightly, Derek
hefts the teen up further so that their faces are no longer level. His own ends
up pressed into the other's neck, the pale skin teasing him with the red flush
he finds there.
Nodding hastily, Stiles places a kiss on the crown of Derek's head, wrapping
his arms more securely around his strong shoulders. "I'm totally, one-hundred
percent sure," he says, conviction strong in his voice. He feels more than
hears the growl that builds in his mate's chest, groaning quietly to himself
when the vibrations against his own send a renewed wave of arousal down his
spine. The sensation pebbles his already-hard nipples even further, over-
sensitising them maddeningly as they rub against the rough cotton of Derek's
sweat-covered tank top. The room blurs around him as he finds himself being
carried into the hallway, headed for the stairs. He could certainly get used to
this manhandling thing. When they pass the large archway that leads into the
living room, he looks over Derek's shoulder and finds Isaac still sitting on
the sofa, the beta turning around and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up as
he watches knowingly. He responds with an awkward wave, the mop of messy curls
disappearing from sight as he's carried up to the second floor.
Derek kicks their bedroom door shut behind himself before walking over to stand
beside the bed. He sets Stiles back on his feet next to the mattress before
reaching over to the nightstand and picking up his phone. Unlocking it, he
sends off a quick text to every member of the pack, telling them to stay away
from the house that day since he plans on keeping Stiles busy the entire time.
Message sent, Derek puts the device clumsily back in its place before
connecting his and his mate's mouths again, retaking control. He keeps his
right hand tangled in Stiles' silky hair as he cups the teen's straining
erection. Looking down, he sees that the head just peeks out of the top of his
black underwear, giving him a little preview. It takes him a few seconds to
realise that Stiles has begun talking to him, spewing an endless stream of
words that he can't quite make out. He pulls back and quirks an eyebrow at his
mate, increasing the distance between their faces even further when the teen
tries to follow.
Desperate for any sort of stimulation, Stiles continues to let his mouth run
unbidden, his words a torrent of filth. He details all of the ways he wants
Derek to take him and make him his, about how he wants to belong to the alpha
in every single sense.
Stiles goes on to talk about how he wants Derek to bend him over and pound him
into the mattress, how he wants to be bitten and scratched and claimed until he
can't form coherent thoughts anymore. He wants the alpha to let go of his
control completely, allowing the wolf to shift and take over, just taking
what's his. Stiles' cock aches more and more in the confines of his boxer-
briefs and he becomes increasingly desperate for relief. He wants Derek to rub
his sweaty body all over his own, sharing his pungent scent and making him
smell like he belongs solely to the alpha. He wants Derek to make him come over
and over and over, to just keep on going until he's left a boneless mess on the
bed. He longs for his mate to knot his hole, to plug him up and keep them
connected, keeping his thick come buried deep inside of his ass.
His eyes widening as Stiles just seems to go on and on, Derek cannot believe
what he's hearing come out of the teen's mouth. He never knew that his mate
would want all of that and the thought of giving it to him makes him a little
scared. He feels himself shake slightly in fear.
What Stiles is asking for... A part of Derek has been terrified of allowing
anyone to see those pieces of himself he keeps so carefully hidden, the
instincts he has that feel so animalistic, so base and purely wolf, ever since
his heart was destroyed by Kate's mocking, venom-filled words all those years
ago. The woman had laughed in his face, telling him what a freak he was, how
disgusted those parts of him made her. He hadn't realised it until just then,
but now that Stiles is asking for all of it...he finally sees how he's been
holding back a part of himself from even his mate. He kicks himself. Stiles
deserves better than that. He deserves everything good the world can give him
and so much more.
Derek looks down at his feet when he hears the teen finally come to halt in his
begging, knowing that the torrent of emotions raging through him must have
shown on his face. His cock has gone soft again, his negative thoughts putting
an end to his previously obvious arousal. He keeps his eyes averted even when
he feels Stiles tilt his chin back up so they're once again face to face.
Unaware of the identity crisis his words have caused in Derek, Stiles is
confused at the sudden shift in mood, at the way the room seems to have gotten
unfathomably cooler. His frown deepens when he sees how sad the alpha looks,
steadfastly refusing to meet his speculative gaze.
Stiles grabs a hold of his mate's hand and urges him to climb onto the bed,
guiding him to take a seat on the comfortable mattress as he himself sits with
his legs tucked beneath his body across from his wolf. Keeping Derek's hands
held in his own, his grip loose and his thumbs stroking over the backs of them,
he waits until the man finally looks up at him again. The inner conflict he can
see in the hazel orbs shocks him. "Derek? What's going on?" he asks, his voice
gentle. When Derek's eyes skitter away again, looking off to the side, he
releases one of the man's hands and cups it instead around his mate's bearded
cheek. He keeps his thumb stroking along his wolf's cheekbone, the facial hair
tickling his palm. "Please talk to me."
His own erection flagging considerably as well as he wracks his brain, Stiles
tries to come up with any possible reason as to why things went from amazing to
bad so quickly. He sighs when he comes up with nothing. He is about to conclude
that Derek isn't going to offer up an explanation of his own when the wolf
finally opens his mouth.
After taking a few seconds to try and organise all of his thoughts so that they
make some semblance of sense, Derek leans into Stiles' hand as he starts
talking. "It's just...I'm having a hard time believing that you really want all
of that," he mumbles, keeping his eyes fixed on the curtains that are drawn
across the room's sole window. "After what's happened whenever I've shown even
the slightest hint of 'wolf' during sex in the past, the other person has
either been disgusted by it or was so scared that they ran in the other
direction..." He flicks his eyes briefly over to Stiles' face to gauge his
reaction and sees realisation beginning to bloom there. "I've kept that part of
myself hidden for so long that...to be honest, the thought of letting anyone
see it again, even you, terrifies me."
Derek flinches when he feels Stiles' hand on his face halt in its caresses,
tensing up and shaking a little with what his deprecating self assumes is
either laughter or condemnation. A voice in the back of his head screams at him
that he should have more faith in his mate, but he can't help thinking the
worst.
Feeling his body shaking as white-hot rage courses through his veins, Stiles
tries to bring his emotions back under control when he notices the way Derek
shies away from his touch, scared. He takes several deep breaths before
attempting to assure the man that his anger isn't directed his way. "Shh,
Sourwolf, I'm not mad at you," he whispers, holding his wolf's face in both of
his hands now and forcing him to meet his eyes.
Injecting as much love as he can into his words, Stiles continues. "I'm mad at
Kate and whoever else for ever making you feel like that," he explains, his
voice gentle. "If I could, I'd bring her back to life just so I can kill her
all over again for hurting you. Please trust me when I say that I love every
little part of you. Everything about you is so damn good... All of your broken
pieces fit together with mine until you make me whole again. Even though I wish
that those things had never happened to you, there's not a single part of you I
would change on either your human side or your wolf side. All of it is perfect
to me. All of it." When he still senses some apprehension coming from Derek, he
smiles kindly and releases his hold on the man's face, moving his hands down to
grip the hem of his tank top instead. "Let me prove it to you?"
Stiles knows he has to be careful with the vulnerable man in front of him and
that he'll do whatever he has to in order to convince Derek that he means
everything to him. There won't be a quick fix for all of the alpha's
insecurities, but he hopes that everything he does next will begin to pave over
all of the times sex has been used as a weapon in the past with nothing but
love and acceptance.
Unable to deny Stiles anything, Derek lets himself be undressed. His tank top
is pulled off over his head and tossed across the room, where it lands in a
heap in front of their dresser. His heart still skips a beat whenever he thinks
of it as theirs.
At the teen's request, Derek shuffles sideways off of the mattress so that he
stands next to the bed. His basketball shorts soon hit the carpeted floor as
Stiles pulls them down. He steps out of them and just stands there, arms at his
sides, letting the teen see every part of him. When he finally finds the
courage to stop staring down at his feet, he looks up instead until he meets
his mate's cinnamon-hued gaze. His heart fills to bursting when he sees the
overwhelming amount of affection and lust burning in their depths.
Stiles is unable to take his eyes off of Derek. He scans them up and down his
wolf's body, looking at every detail appreciatively until he's practically
drooling. The man's flaccid cock hangs down low between his thighs, surrounded
by a nest of thick curls. His own soft cock grows hard again in his underwear
at the sight. Curling a hand around Derek's hip, he draws his mate back onto
the bed, positioning him so that his head rests against the fluffy pillows. He
watches as Derek stretches his body out across the sheets, the alpha's toes
curling slightly in anticipation. Finally, when the man starts to look skittish
again, he shifts so that he's straddling his waist, his hands planted on the
other's broad chest. Leaning down, he kisses Derek chastely, brushing their
lips together lightly, teasingly. He feels the alpha's cock begin to plump up
again against his ass and grinds backward against it a couple of times,
revelling in the small moan the action elicits from his wolf.
Linking their fingers together, Stiles brings Derek's arms up above his head,
pressing his hands down into the pillows in a silent command to keep them
there. When he pulls his face back, he sees that Derek is staring up at him in
confusion, but the man nods his acceptance after a second.
Instead of continuing to move his ass back against the alpha's thick cock like
he so wants, he crawls backward until he kneels right at the foot of the bed.
Derek ends up spread out before him like an offering, just waiting to be
devoured. He's more than happy to accept.
Bending down, Stiles traces the tips of his fingers up the arch of Derek's left
foot, smirking when the light touch causes it to twitch. He fights against the
urge to tickle the man and instead smooths both of his hands over the warm,
calloused skin. All of the alpha's toenails are short, the ends cut into
perfect, smooth curves. The toes themselves are sprinkled lightly with dark
hair, matching the small patch that grows right in the centre of the top of the
foot itself. "Seriously, Derek...every part of you is beautiful, even your damn
feet..." he breathes, his voice shaking slightly. "I think everybody else's
feet are kind of gross, but yours..." He trails off, the rest of his words not
needing to be said. He leans forward and licks along the side of it, beginning
down at the heel and flowing up until he reaches Derek's big toe. He sucks it
into his mouth. The dried sweat from the alpha's earlier run makes the skin
taste slightly salty. He sucks on all of his mate's toes, enjoying the way the
heat of his mouth causes the man's thighs to quiver ever so slightly.
Stiles runs his left hand over Derek's calf soothingly, pleased when his wolf
keeps following his earlier request, his arms staying positioned above his
head. Every inch of the man's skin has begun to glisten enticingly with fresh
sweat.
Moving on to Derek's other foot, Stiles repeats his earlier ministrations,
peering up at the alpha's face and seeing that his eyes are clenched shut in
pleasure, his teeth biting into his bottom lip as he tries to keep the cries
wanting to break loose from doing so. Nipping on his wolf's ankle to get his
attention, he raises an eyebrow at him before speaking. "Don't hold anything
back, Sourwolf. I want to hear you."
When Derek nods tightly, releasing his lip and tipping his head back, Stiles
continues to work his way up the alpha's body. He licks along the man's legs,
running his tongue along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The hair there
tickles slightly but, strangely, he finds he enjoys the sensation. "God, your
legs..." he says quietly, pausing to lick his lips. "So damn strong." When he
moves even further up, bypassing Derek's neglected cock entirely, he hears the
alpha let out a groan of frustration, obviously not pleased with the
proceedings. He smirks, his plan to drag the foreplay out and tease his mate as
much as possible working seemingly flawlessly. Perching himself atop his wolf's
toned stomach, he sees Derek's hands twitch against the pillows, probably
wanting the freedom to move and grip onto his narrow hips. Another pointed look
keeps him where he is.
Connecting their lips again, this time messily, Stiles wraps his hands around
Derek's, his thumbs pressing into the other's palms, squeezing lightly. He
knows how much power lays in them, how capable they are of obliterating
anything that gets in their owner's way. At the same time, he knows they would
never be turned against him.
Stiles brings Derek's right hand up to his mouth and mirrors what he did to his
toes, sucking each finger into the moist warmth and causing the alpha to cry
out. Soon growing bored of gliding his tongue over the thick digits, he puts
the wolf's hand back where it was and licks down the tanned skin of his
forearm, gathering the perspiration forming there and running it around his
mouth. It shouldn't taste as good as it does.
Derek's scent gets more concentrated the closer Stiles gets to the man's
armpit. He presses his face into it, nuzzling into the thick hair and breathing
in nothing but the musky, sweaty smell. It should turn his stomach, but instead
it only heightens the arousal he feels burning in his gut, hardening his cock
even further until it feels like iron in his tight underwear. "Fuck, you smell
so good..." he mumbles, his breath blowing through the hairs against his mouth.
The smell of sweat is covered slightly with faint traces of deodorant, but
beneath all of that is something so purely Derek. It's like forests and rain
and something else he cannot identify but knows that he's loved ever since they
first met. He only pulls back when his lungs demand air, but he doesn't go far;
he keeps his face hovering millimetres above his mate's damp armpit hair so
that the intoxicating scent of it wraps itself around his entire being, making
him dizzy with lust.
"The things I want to do to you... I'm gonna jerk off into your armpits one of
these days, shoot my come all over them and rub it into the hair..." Stiles
says, his voice tight with desire. He hears Derek moan his approval of the idea
and tucks it away to put into practice later.
Unable to take it anymore, Stiles attacks the pit with his lips, licking and
sucking the hairs into his mouth and soaking up the moisture from the strands.
He bites down on them and keeps them held tightly between his teeth as he draws
back, tugging lightly. He feels Derek buck up at this, his nose once again
finding itself buried in the smelly hair.
Stiles carries on his assault until the taste lessens, Derek's armpit licked
clean. Still wanting more of it, he switches sides and focuses all of his
attention on the alpha's second pit until he's cleaned that one as much as he
can as well. He has an ulterior motive for focusing so much of his attention
there; he knows just what smelling like him will do to Derek. Sure enough, when
he finally draws away, staring down at how the thick hair of both of Derek's
armpits is matted down with his saliva, he sees the wolf's nostrils flaring
wide as he scents himself on the smooth skin of his face. "Every damn part of
your body turns me on so much..." he breathes, keeping his eyes locked with
Derek's red ones the whole time he talks. "I've seen you working out in the
basement, you know.
"The way all of your muscles were flexing as you did pull-ups, your skin soaked
with sweat...I almost mauled you then and there. Each time you would lower
yourself down again, I couldn't stop staring at your armpits...
"I don't know why I find them so hot, I just do. Sometimes I think you wear so
many tank tops just to tease me. One of my favourite things to do is just sit
back and watch as you do work around the house or train with the betas. You
don't how many times I've wanted to interrupt and send everyone else home while
I devour your sweaty body..."
Scratching at Derek's armpit hair with his fingers, Stiles looks down into the
alpha's burning eyes. He leans in closer to Derek's nose and lets the man
breathe himself in before connecting their mouths again. Tongues come into
play, Derek's instantly worming its way into his mouth and running over his
own, almost lapping up the taste of his own sweat. He traps some of the strands
of the man's armpit hair between his fingers and tugs, enjoying the moan the
alpha releases into his mouth. He keeps his hand's pulling gentle, not wanting
to accidentally yank out any of the hair there that he finds so unbelievably
sexy. Getting into a relationship with a werewolf has really awoken a slew of
new kinks he never even knew he had.
When Derek bites on his bottom lip roughly, almost drawing blood, Stiles reels
back and stares down at the alpha, the fire of his eyes sending a new wave of
arousal coursing through his body. From the way the wolf's nostrils flare
again, he knows the man can smell it.
Grinning, Stiles runs his tongue along his lip, soothing the ache Derek's teeth
have left there before surging forward and attacking his mate's neck. He bites
at the vulnerable column, the tendons standing out as Derek swallows against
his mouth. He pauses for a second and sucks particularly forcefully on his
Adam's apple, enjoying the way it jumps beneath his lips.
Disappointment grips Stiles for a second when he sees his marks fading almost
as soon as he makes them, but he guesses he should have known better. Just
because his claiming bite scarred and stayed on Derek's shoulder doesn't mean
every other mark he leaves on the alpha's body will remain as well. Shrugging
to himself, he moves further down and takes one of the wolf's nipples into his
mouth. He hears Derek cry out when he flicks his tongue across the sensitive
bud, as he bites down gently on it and worries it between his teeth. He plays
with its twin with his right hand until the alpha is a writhing mess beneath
him. Deciding to be merciful when Derek looses a high-pitched whine, he
releases the pebbled nipples from his clutches, both of them looking red and
abused from the unrelenting treatment.
Spreading his fingers out over Derek's pectorals, he squeezes down on them
slightly, marvelling at their hardness and loving the way they twitch under his
touch. He's always found the man to be incredibly attractive, ever since he
first laid eyes on him in the preserve over a year ago.
Now, though...now that the alpha's chest is covered in a field of dark hair,
it's a whole new level of hotness. Stiles doesn't know where his new fetish for
body hair came from, but he embraces it wholly. "Have I ever told you how glad
I was when you stopped shaving your chest?" he asks, seemingly out of the blue
according to Derek's surprised reaction. The tips of the wolf's ears turn pink,
matching the flushed complexion of his cheeks.
"'Cause I was, you know. You don't even want to know what seeing your
triskelion necklace buried in your chest hair does to me... And you wondered
why I was so adamant about you buying more v-necks. It was purely for selfish
reasons." He chuckles when Derek blinks a couple of times in quick succession
before looking away, a tiny smile appearing on his lips. His mate is so damn
cute. He sits back and scoots down the alpha's body until he's kneeling between
his legs instead. The new position puts Derek's cock in clear view, standing up
straight and proud. The vein on the underside pulses in time with its owners
heartbeat. He can't resist leaning forward and licking up the side until he
reaches the tip. When he feels his wolf buck upwards, trying to get inside of
his mouth, he moves his face away and sympathises with the plaintive whine he
hears slip out of Derek's mouth.
"Don't even get me started on your cock," Stiles begins, teasing the tip of his
index finger up the side of the rigid shaft. "I've never seen a more gorgeous
cock in my life." He runs his eyes down the entire length, almost as if he can
count the inches.
Stiles wonders how big it actually is and figures he'll have to get a measuring
tape one of these days to find out. Unless Derek knows, which, now that he
thinks about it, he probably does. He doesn't know of a single male out there
who wouldn't have gotten curious about his own equipment in that way at some
point during their teenage years. "How big is it, anyway? Eight, nine inches?"
He looks up at Derek's face expectantly, seeing the way the blush on the skin
there intensifies at the personal question. When he doesn't receive an answer,
the alpha either pretending not to know or being too embarrassed to open his
mouth, he strokes his thumb over the man's hips. "C'mon, Sourwolf, I know you
know. Satisfy my curiously. Please?" He sticks his bottom lip out, pouting to
get his way.
"Ten," Derek croaks out eventually, his voice so quiet that Stiles has trouble
hearing it. His wolf looks oddly uncomfortable at revealing this information
and he wonders why. Deciding that the best way to reassure the alpha is to show
him how much he loves his cock, to worship every inch of it like he's just done
with the rest of his body, he runs his eyes down the thick length again.
The head is hidden in the hood of the foreskin, pre-come dribbling continuously
out of the top and running in trails down into the dark curls of pubic hair at
the base. The sight is so erotic, the smell of the liquid so strong, that
Stiles is powerless to resist the urge to dart forward, burying his nose in the
dark hair that surrounds that perfect cock.
The scent there is the most arousing thing Stiles ever remembers smelling, so
concentrated and pungent that his mouth opens of its own accord and a deep moan
tears its way out of his throat. Sticking his tongue out, he tastes the pre-
come gathered there, the fluid tasting salty and slightly bitter and like
everything he could ever want in his mouth. He lets his fingers join the party,
tangling them through the curls and pulling lightly like he'd done with the
alpha's armpits. Snuffling downwards, his nose bumps into the heavy balls that
rest between Derek's legs, the sweat-damp skin of his sack dusted with yet more
hair. He sucks them into his mouth, one at a time since they're too big to both
fit in at once, and watches as the cock right in front of his face twitches at
the sensations his enthusiasm causes.
Releasing his mate's swollen balls, Stiles blows against the wet skin, watching
as his breath causes them to draw up closer to the alpha's body. This moves
them out of the way and, because Derek's legs are spread far apart to
accommodate his kneeling between them, he gets an eyeful of the wolf's shadowed
ass crack.
Curious, having never seen this part of his mate's body before, Stiles wedges
his hands beneath Derek's thighs and pushes his legs back, bending him almost
in half. This exposes the man's small hole to his greedy eyes.
Stiles doesn't plan on actually entering the tight channel, probably not
ever—he enjoys having the alpha's cock deep inside of his own far too much to
even contemplate deviating from what he knows will soon become their usual
sexual roles—but that doesn't stop him from feeling this raging hunger inside
of his chest that tells him he'll die if he doesn't taste every part of Derek's
body with his tongue. He's thankful that Derek now feels safe enough with him
to let him get up close and personal with this last, vulnerable part of
himself, giving everything up for his human mate's enjoyment. Glancing up, he
sees that his wolf still has his arms raised above his head, his fingers
twisted into the fabric of the pillowcase. Every single part of him is on
display and, when he sees the way Derek's hole twitches in anticipation, he
gives in to his desire to taste and swipes his tongue over the tight pucker.
Derek cries out above him at this, having never had someone rim him before,
shocked at how good it feels.
Stiles keeps his tongue working as he smirks around it, prodding the tip
against the opening to test the resistance he finds there. When he seals his
lips around the rim and sucks, he feels a deep sense of satisfaction in his
chest when he hears the way it makes Derek wail. He's never heard the alpha
make that sound before and he just has to flick his eyes up to stare at his
mate's face.
Beads of sweat appear continuously on Derek's forehead, running down in lines
and dripping onto the pillow. His teeth have actually bitten through his bottom
lip, staining it red with blood, and he actually thinks that the wolf has
shredded the pillowcase in his ecstasy.
Derek's cock is producing copious amounts of pre-come now, the alpha so turned
on that it leaks out in an endless stream. Stiles squeezes the alpha's ass
cheeks, the taut muscles of the globes just as wonderful as he remembers them
being. He withdraws his mouth and pulls back, ignoring the little groan Derek
lets out when he stops his tongue's careful exploration. He runs the pad of his
finger around the rim instead, his saliva guiding the way as he draws it around
and around in soothing circles, coaxing the still-tight muscle until it relaxes
and winks open the tiniest bit. It clenches right back up again afterward, but
it still gives him what he was after: a glimpse at the very core of his mate.
The wetness from his messy and eager rimming mats down the hair that runs along
Derek's crack. He looks over it carefully, at how both of the alpha's cheeks
are lightly dusted with fine, dark hairs. The amount covering the pale skin
increases the closer it gets to where the cheeks are parted until it surrounds
the tiny, quivering entrance enticingly.
Stiles marvels at the sight, in awe that every single part of his wolf is so
damn beautiful. He wonders what he ever did to get so lucky. He eases just the
tip of his finger inside of Derek's hole before retreating, releasing his hold
on the alpha's legs and allowing them to fall back down onto the bed.
Derek's cock springs right back up, rigid and flushed a painful-looking red. He
sees that the man is getting desperate, longing for some relief, so he
mercifully circles his hand around the thick shaft and runs it up and down the
substantial length a couple of times, using his pre-come to slick his way.
Derek's hips buck up into his touch, trying to bring himself to orgasm. He lets
the man work, keeping his grip firm, twisting his hand slightly on every
upstroke to provide more stimulation. Tiny whining sounds are punched from his
mate's chest on every laboured breath until it hitches and he almost sounds
like he's choking.
Feeling Derek's cock pulse in his right hand, its girth seeming to grow even
more impressive, Stiles cups the man's heavy balls in his left before his
orgasm crests, feeling them jump as he rolls them in his palm.
Arcs of viscous, white come shoot out of the tip. Stiles pulls the foreskin
back and watches the slit work to let each string spurt forth, keeping his hand
moving in short strokes to prolong Derek's orgasm. It just keeps coming and
coming, seemingly endless, covering the alpha's chest and stomach bit by bit. A
couple of jets even make their way up as far as the man's face, splattering
across his bearded cheek and chin.
Granted, Stiles has only seen Derek come a couple of times in the past, but he
doesn't remember the alpha producing this much without his knot forming. He
watches, enraptured, until the cock in his hand spurts feebly a couple more
times before stopping, the man's body wracked with small tremors as he rides
out the aftershocks. When Derek's eyes finally blink open again, still red, he
leans forward and licks at the few strands of come that made it onto his mate's
face—the rough hair there rasping pleasantly across his tongue—before feeding
it to him. They kiss slowly, passing the taste between themselves until they
both swallow. Pulling back, he shares the alpha's lazy smile. "Dude... How on
Earth did you come so much?!" he exclaims finally, his curiosity piqued. His
eyes flick down briefly to look at Derek's softening cock, just to double check
that he didn't accidentally miss the knot forming. He didn't.
Derek breaks their eye contact and stares down at the mess covering his torso,
his eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees just how much semen he produced.
Finally lowering his arms, he rests his hands on Stiles' waist and shrugs as
best he can while lying down.
"I don't know... I mean, it's been a while since I've had an orgasm that wasn't
by my own hand," Derek starts explaining, panicking slightly when he sees the
beginnings of shame on Stiles' face. "I don't blame you for that, though! I
could never. I know you were going through a lot of stuff and I honestly didn't
mind." He rubs his thumbs reassuringly along the teen's bony hips, putting as
much sincerity as he can into his words. He's pleased when they seem to work.
Entranced, Derek watches as Stiles hunches over and runs his tongue along his
left pectoral, gathering up the come there and swallowing it down. The teen
cleans off his chest, moaning as he does so, and, by the time the human is
finished, his cock has begun to rise again, ready for round two. He goes from
half-mast to rock-hard in zero seconds flat when Stiles uses his hand to scoop
up about half of the come still remaining on his abs and rubs it into his own
smooth stomach, embedding the scent in the pale skin. From the way the teen's
eyes glint devilishly, he knows exactly what his actions are doing to the alpha
wolf still prowling around in his head.
Realising that he's almost on the verge of losing control of his shift, Derek
knows this is exactly what Stiles was aiming for. The teen was clever about
getting what he wanted, knowing how scared he was about revealing this primal
side of himself. His cunning mate had slowly stripped back all of his defences
until he has no choice but to let go, had licked and sucked his way over every
single inch of his body and called it all beautiful.
Derek knew he hadn't lied once. That knowledge is what finally allows him to
release that last tendril of fear. With lightning speed, he flings himself
forward and pushes Stiles back so that their positions are reversed.
Tearing off Stiles' underwear, Derek feels a thrill when he hears the teen's
cock slap up against his stomach, leaving a wet patch in the hair that runs
down from his navel. The scent of it becomes more noticeable until it's all
that fills his nostrils. He feels the change happen, the way his mind is taken
over almost entirely by his wolf. It's slightly reminiscent of his first few
full moons, but instead of feeling like he'll tear through the town, murdering
as he goes if given the chance, it's like his mind is the calmest it's ever
been. Giving up all of his control has ironically ended with him having even
more than ever. Life's funny that way, he muses. His face changes, his brow
becoming more prominent, his thick eyebrows disappearing and coarse hair
growing from his sideburns all the way down his cheeks. Every muscle tenses,
his claws popping out from his nails and his fangs descending from his teeth.
Baring the sharp points at Stiles in a threatening snarl, Derek tests his mate
to see if he can detect any fear in response to his animalistic display. An
approving rumble builds in his chest when all he is able to register is
increased arousal and, looking down, he sees a bead of pre-come forming at the
tip of the teen's cock.
Derek's tongue feels bigger in his mouth, longer. It's a new development, one
which makes him realise that, every single time he's shifted in the past, even
before Kate broke him down, he's subconsciously held himself back from changing
completely.
The fact that he is now apparently able to do something that—after taking a
second to think about it—he realises feels so damn right, that it was his
beautiful Stiles that brought it on...Derek feels a renewed surge of love for
his mate. He's so fucking lucky. He stays kneeling on the bed, the come Stiles
didn't clean off of him with his tongue sliding down his skin, dripping onto
the sheets or getting stuck in his thick pubic hair. He stays there, watching
Stiles watch him, his wolf preening in the forefront of his mind at being able
to please its mate so much with nothing but the sight of his naked body. His
tense muscles freeze further when Stiles sits up and reaches out a hand,
tracing his fingers through the remnants of come matting down his chest hair,
using the fluid to slick his way as he circles the tip around the raised nub of
one of his nipples.
A sharp whine escapes Derek's mouth, slipping out past his fangs and causing
Stiles to glance up at his face. They stare into each other's eyes for a full
minute, neither one moving, until Derek can't resist thrusting his hips forward
once, pointedly, nudging the tip of his engorged cock into his mate's left
hipbone.
Stiles ignores this, still lost again in the sight of Derek's body. He's known
that he finds Derek's beta form strangely arousing ever since he witnessed it
for the first time. Seeing it right in front of him, when he has the time to
take in every changed, animalistic feature...it reaffirms the idea in his head
that something must be seriously wrong with him. Tearing his eyes away from the
alpha's face, he runs his eyes down the length of his body, the lids seeming to
grow heavier the longer he looks, weighed down by how turned on he feels. He
must look so debauched in that moment.
All of Derek's muscles seem even bigger than they normally do, bulging,
twitching as the wolf holds himself in place and allows Stiles to stare. The
tendons in his neck are taut, making his neck look thicker and stronger. The
veins in his arms pop out obscenely and Stiles thinks he can actually see his
mate's pulse run through them. He's never felt Derek's presence as much as he
does right then, the man seeming to take up the entire room as his body shakes
with tremors, his chest heaving with deep, laboured breaths. When the alpha's
hips pump forward a second time, nudging his erection against his hip again and
leaving a sticky trail along the skin with his pre-come, he finally pays
attention to the thick cock. Reaching out a hand, he presses his finger against
the very tip, slipping it beneath the foreskin until the pad rubs against the
bulbous, spongy head. He hears Derek let out a whine as he stimulates the
sensitive nerve endings gathered there.
After a while, when Stiles' touches have remained infuriatingly fleeting, Derek
grows tired of waiting and pushes the teen harshly so his back hits the bed,
the force of his shove causing him to bounce slightly against the mattress. He
flips Stiles over, groaning when his eyes are finally greeted with the amazing
sight of his mate's smooth ass.
Derek feels saliva build up in his mouth and decides to put it to good use,
spitting into his hand and using it to slick up his fingers. He notices his
claws and has to concentrate on retracting them again for a couple of seconds
before they disappear.
His impatience making him a little rougher than he ordinarily would be, Derek
buries his index finger in the tight heat of Stiles' hole, going right up to
the last knuckle. From the way the teen wails his pleasure against the sheets,
he knows he doesn't have to worry about his overeagerness. When Stiles pushes
his hips back, he takes that as his cue to add a second finger, scissoring them
to stretch the tight channel as fast as possible. He purposefully avoids
touching his mate's prostate, looking to get him as worked up and desperate as
possible. He can't help it; releasing the alpha inside of himself has made him
long to hear the teen beg again. A third finger quickly joins the other two
and, after a minute, he deems the teen to finally be ready. Reaching over to
the bedside table, he pulls out the unopened tube of lubricant he keeps there.
He'd bought it soon after Stiles had moved in, but it has unfortunately gone
unused until now.
Slicking up his cock, he sees that Stiles is looking back over his shoulder,
watching his fist work over the thick flesh with obvious want in his eyes.
Smirking, he slows down his movements, jacking his cock teasingly slow, looking
down himself and watching the way the foreskin pulls back from the head only to
cover it again. The noises his actions create sound so vulgar to his ears.
Finally, when Stiles cants his hips up, raising his ass to the perfect height
to be fucked, Derek gives into his instincts and bottoms out in one smooth
thrust. His balls slap roughly against the teen's cheeks and his mate cries out
loudly beneath him at the sudden intrusion.
Derek lies still, covering the body under his own and running his hands
comfortingly up and down Stiles' sides until he feels the teen relax around
him. The human's ass feels amazing as it surrounds his cock, the channel so hot
and silky and inviting. Even though Stiles was begging to be taken fast and
hard not even an hour before, to be claimed by the most animal side of the
alpha wolf, when he draws back, pulling out until just the head remains inside,
he keeps his thrusts unhurried as he sinks his cock back where it belongs. He
makes love to his mate for the second time, drinking in his little noises of
pleasure and nipping at the back of his sweat-covered neck. The teen's hands
are gripping the sheets tightly and, when he hears tearing, he untangles the
slender fingers and links them with his own.
Having his mate beneath him, panting and groaning and writhing, feels so good,
so fucking right. Derek wants to keep things going like this for hours. He
doesn't know if he can suppress his instinct to just take for that long in
reality, but in that moment, his self-control remains intact.
Not moving for minutes at a time as punishment, Derek tightens his grip on
Stiles' hands when he feels the teen try to push back against him periodically,
obviously not satisfied with the slow pace he's setting and looking for more.
He gives precise aim to each of his long, infuriatingly languid thrusts,
ensuring that the head of his cock rubs insistently against Stiles' prostate
every time.
Derek wants to give his mate everything, to shower him with affection and
provide him with the most intense pleasure for the way he'd worshipped every
single inch of him earlier. He's never before felt like he's so wholly and
truly desired and loved. He wants to weep with overwhelming joy. When the teen
screams in frustration and tugs against his hands, he feels a burst of
possessiveness flicker to life in his chest and surges forward, grabbing a
rough hold of each of Stiles' wrists. He twists his mate's arms backward until
both of his hands are pressed into the small of his back. This new position
gives the teen even less freedom to move than before.
Stiles struggles halfheartedly against Derek's hold for a few seconds before
seeming to give up, going pliant and sobbing quietly, his face buried in the
sheets. Derek worries for a second that he's gone too far before realising that
the emotion is just a result of being teased for so long and not from any pain.
He knows Stiles would tell him if he ever did something he didn't like. After
all, his mate has never had a problem speaking his mind outside of the bedroom.
Why would it be any different inside?
Soothing the whimpering teen by pressing light kisses against the back of his
neck and across his sweat-slick shoulders, Derek pulls back, using his left
hand to keep both of Stiles' wrists pinned in place as he looks down to where
their bodies are connected in the most intimate of ways. He uses his right hand
to keep himself balanced, spreading his palm flat against the mattress next to
his mate's head. Moving his hips lazily, he keeps to a steady rhythm and is
left breathless at the sight of his cock leaving and reentering the teen's
slick body. Every time he withdraws, Stiles' hole seems to grip him, unwilling
to let him go. The rim—stretched so damn tight around his substantial
girth—almost attempts to follow, like it's trying to suck him back in, to get
him buried deep again where he belongs.
As Derek pulls almost all of the way out, that tight rim catches on the ridge
at the tip of his cock. He hears Stiles mewl helplessly when he tests the
resistance of the muscle, seeing how far he can draw back before the hole
clenching around his thick shaft is forced to release it.
The sound is slightly muffled by the sheets Stiles has between his teeth, but
grows louder when Derek figures out how far he can withdraw without the rim
popping over his cock's swollen head. He holds himself there, on the precipice
of exiting his mate's welcoming warmth entirely, his hips raised off of the bed
so that the only parts of him touching the mattress are his hands and feet.
Readjusting his grip on Stiles' wrists, he smirks when he finds he is
successfully able to keep himself in place using just his left hand. He traces
around the bulging rim of the teen's asshole with his right, marvelling at how
stretched the nerve-ridden skin feels under the callouses of his thumb. Stiles
whines at the touch before opening his mouth and beginning to beg, the words
muffled in the sheets his face is pressed against. The sound snaps Derek out of
his staring and he pays close attention to the what the teen says, not wanting
to miss a thing.
"God damn it, Derek! Will you just fuck me already?! I would've thought that,
because it's been so long, you'd be all growly and pushy and rough..." Stiles
says, his voice cracking and his breath hitching. "I did not expect for you to
go so damn slow. What did I ever do to deserve this? Just give it to me
already! Show me how much of an alpha you are and pound my ass until I can't
walk for days!"
Stiles' tirade causes the wolf in Derek's head to growl in response, wanting to
prove itself a competent lover. Still pinning Stiles to the bed, he snaps his
hips forward brutally, over and over. The slick sounds the teen's ass makes as
his cock slides in and out of it are obscene and only make him thrust harder,
slamming the headboard back into the wall.
Hearing Stiles whimpering and keening every time the head of his cock hits his
prostate, Derek keeps up his assault on the sensitive, little bump just to hear
more of those delicious noises. They make his wolf howl with happiness and a
little smugness. Stiles begins to move with him, angling his hips and shoving
them backward into his thrusts. While it certainly helps make everything that
much more intense, he doesn't approve of it and wants to be solely in control.
Not thinking, he opens his jaws and clamps his teeth down on the back of
Stiles' neck, keeping them there even as he feels the body beneath his own
cease its efforts again, going boneless against the mattress. He doesn't taste
blood in his mouth, so he's content in the knowledge that he didn't
accidentally end up piercing the skin with his fangs in his vigour. Now that
Stiles has stopped trying to push back, he releases his hold on the teen's
wrists and moves them back into their previous position, on either side of his
head. He halts his hips briefly and wraps an arm around Stiles' waist, bringing
him up so they can both get their knees underneath themselves.
When he resumes his powerful thrusting, Derek finds that their new positions
allow him to move even more forcefully than before. He bends over Stiles' back
and hunches his hips rapidly, hearing the noises pouring constantly from his
mate's mouth become more desperate and loud, getting closer to coming.
The constant, contented rumbling in Derek's chest turns into a disapproving
growl as he sees Stiles try to bring his hand down to wrap it around his cock.
He snatches the teen's wrist to keep him from succeeding. "No! You come on my
cock or you don't come at all!" he growls, his voice sounding like he swallowed
a handful of gravel.
A smirk appears on Derek's lips when Stiles lets out a particularly
disappointed whine before acquiescing. His thrusts begin to get more erratic as
he feels the base of his cock begin to get bigger, tugging on the teen's rim
every time he withdraws. Soon, he has to push in aggressively to get it back
inside that tight cavern. His mate cries out every time it pops back through.
When it starts to get truly difficult to pull out, he keeps himself buried to
the hilt and just grinds his hips in tiny circles as his knot swells to its
full size. His orgasm hits him suddenly and he has to sink his teeth into
Stiles' shoulder to keep from screaming. He shoots over and over, filling up
the body beneath him with his seed.
Derek's knot a constant pressure on his prostate, Stiles' orgasm builds quickly
until it leaves him breathless. He pants into the sheets as his cock spurts
wildly where it hangs between his legs, his ass clenching down tight around the
knot so that it feels even bigger. His stomach feels so full and warm and he
groans when his legs give out, subsequently finding himself lying flat with the
alpha's heavy, sweaty body atop his own. He protests when Derek tries to tip
them both onto their sides. "Don't..." he gasps, turning his head and craning
his neck around so that he can look up into the bright red eyes of his mate.
He's never seen the man look so wild and he mentally pats himself on the back
for being the one to get him to look that way. "Don't move... I kinda like
having you on top of me, so...stay."
Stiles flops his head back down, a happy smile forming on his lips when he
feels Derek relax against him, pressing him down into the bed with his weight.
It feels oddly comforting, making him feel safe and protected, like the alpha's
body is a wall that blocks out the rest of the world and shields him from all
potential harm.
They stay like that for what feels like hours, basking in their afterglow.
Derek doesn't even pull out when his knot goes down; he just remains lying on
top of his mate, supporting the teen's head with his hand so he doesn't strain
his neck as they trade lazy kisses. When the kiss comes to its natural end, he
shifts his hand so that his fingers run comfortingly through Stiles' hair.
"So..." he begins, unsure of what to say or if he should even speak at all.
"Was that what you wanted?" He keeps his voice low so as not to disturb the
relaxed atmosphere that has filled the room. He can see that the sun is
beginning to fall in the sky, giving him some indication of how much time has
passed. They've spent the whole day making love, just like he planned.
"God, yes..." Stiles replies, still slightly breathless even though it's been a
long time since either of them have moved. He's been unable to stop smiling the
entire time they've been lying there, happy to just be in each other's
presence.
Even though Derek's cock is still buried deep inside of him—it never really
goes soft—because the knot has gone down, Stiles can feel the alpha's come
slipping out around the shaft, soaking the sheets beneath his body. It's an odd
sensation, one that should make him feel uncomfortable, especially seeing as
he's still lying right in the wet spot caused by his own release. In reality,
however, he doesn't mind it. He just sees it as another expression of Derek's
love for him. "We should totally do that more often. Don't get me wrong, I
loved it before, when you kept everything gentle because it was my first time,
but the roughness of this...yeah, you should definitely wolf out more. Maybe up
against the wall next time..."
Derek's eyebrows raise in shock at Stiles' suggestion. "Really?" he asks,
wondering if his beautiful mate will ever stop surprising him.
"Fuck yeah... Don't even front with me, Sourwolf; I know you smelled how turned
on it made me whenever you used to shove me into walls," Stiles says easily,
his voice soft. His words trail off as his tiredness makes itself known,
dragging him slowly down into unconsciousness.
Derek knows the instant Stiles falls asleep. His face finally shifts back to
human as he smiles contentedly and rests his cheek against the teen's neck. He
thinks over Stiles' words. He can certainly get on board with everything his
mate said. He's had a natural inclination to keep things soft whenever he's had
sex in the past, not wanting to freak his previous partners out at all and
keeping all of his attention focused on their needs. Now, though...with Stiles,
he knows he can have the best of both worlds. His amazing mate loves his
aggressive side just as much as his tender one. The thought of everything that
could entail causes his cock to twitch with interest deep inside of the teen's
ass, but he doesn't do anything to chase the feeling, not wanting to disturb
Stiles' rest.
He knows that life won't always be this easy; sooner or later, something new is
going to come along and fuck it all up again. For the time being, though, he
decides to just put all of his worries for the future out of his mind. He tucks
his face fully into Stiles' neck, breathing in the scent he's come to think of
as home, and closes his eyes.
Chapter End Notes
     Yeah, this one...this got away from me a little...
     So, this story is finished for now, after sixteen long months of
     writing and stressing over it. For some reason, I was actually
     getting a little bit anxious and emotional when I was writing this,
     probably because it's been such a big part of my life for so long
     that seeing it end is a little sad. At least I have the sequel to
     look forward to writing soon... Wink, wink. I think you might be able
     to guess from the last scene that I have a bit of a thing for men
     with body hair, considering the amount of time I spent focused on
     Derek's. I regret nothing. Seriously, every damn thing about that man
     is beautiful. How is it even fair? XD
     Please drop a comment below and let me know what you liked about this
     story and what you weren't too crazy about. It'd be a great help to
     me and I'll make sure to take what you say into consideration as I
     write more for this series. You can even leave suggestions about
     things you'd like to see in the future, if you want.
     UPDATE (12/03/16): Don't forget to check out the sequel, There's
     Magic_Between_You_and_I.
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