Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1117784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf), Sheriff_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Magical_Bond
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-03 Completed: 2014-01-21 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 21577
****** Destiny Sucks ******
by beren
Summary
     When Stiles sleeps he goes to the white place he, Scott and Alison
     visited when they sacrificed themselves. He keeps seeing a white wolf
     there and he knows it's important, but he's just so tired.
Notes
     I wanted to get this out before 3b since I've been writing it since
     the end of 3a. It doesn’t take into account the teasers we've had for
     3b, but runs from where 3a left off - and it takes no notice of the
     birthdays given out for the characters because they make no sense.
     Hope you all like it and thanks to Soph for the beta.
***** Sleep of the Dead *****
"Stilinski!"
Stiles jerked awake and blinked without really seeing anything until Finstock
came into focus. The dream was still floating around his brain and it was
difficult to concentrate, not that that was anything new these days, even with
his Adderall.
"Sorry," he mumbled, doing his best to force his brain into gear.
Finstock frowned at him, but surprisingly said no more and just continued with
the class. That was, until the end: "Stilinski, a moment of your time."
Stiles dragged himself to the front of the class rather than the door and
prepared to be yelled at.
"What's up, kid?" Finstock asked and shocked him.
"Um."
"You look like you haven't slept in a week, actually, make that two," Finstock
said. "Have you gotten into something you can't handle?"
Finstock was worried about him, Stiles realised he had to look bad.
"Insomnia," he said, because he couldn't be bothered to pretend, "ever since my
dad ..." and he trailed off.
It wasn't quite the truth, but he couldn't exactly tell the coach he was having
vivid dreams about darkness and wolves that just seemed to suck the energy
right out of him every night.
"What do you have next period?" Finstock asked, without commenting on that.
"Math, Mr Lyle," he replied, not sure where the conversation was going.
He really did not expect Finstock to wave a set of keys under his nose.
"What?" his brain couldn't cope with such weird behaviour at the best of times
so right then it had no hope.
"The keys to my office," Finstock told him. "If you move out the chair and the
ball box it's very comfortable. I will tell Lyle you are on special assignment
with me for the next hour. Get some sleep, Stilinski, before you fall over and
break something. Bring the keys back when you're done."
It took him a couple of seconds to process that.
"Thank you," he said and Finstock dropped the keys into his hand.
"But, Stilinski, if anything else is touched, your ass is grass."
"Yes, coach," he said and shuffled out.
When he made it to Finstock's office, he pulled out the chair and the ball box,
set his phone for ten minutes before the next class and then sat down, putting
his feet on the box. He went out like a light as soon as he remotely relaxed.
As he opened his eyes onto whiteness he wanted to cry. It was the same every
time; he fell asleep and he woke up in the white place. He was on a white dais
surrounded by a black moat and he could see the nemeton in the distance. There
was always a white wolf as well. It had started in the distance even further
away than the nemeton, but this time it was standing next to him on the dais.
It looked at him with eyes as white as its fur, just slightly ringed in red and
he collapsed to his knees beside it.
He was so exhausted. It felt like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. Ever since
he, Scott and Allison had sacrificed themselves he had been having dreams. At
first he had just felt a little tired, but over the last week it had been
getting worse. They weren't even nightmares, it felt as if he was living two
lives and never resting.
The wolf nudged against his face, urging him to look up. He was so tired all he
wanted to do was lie down, but the wolf was insistent. When he finally lifted
his head he saw another wolf, far off, past the nemeton, and this one was
black. It seemed familiar somehow, but he didn't know why. The white wolf
leaned into him, supporting him as he sagged, but he did not take his eyes off
the black one.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, because he just felt so lost.
Sound lanced through his head, so loud he thought his ears would burst and he
was thrust back into the real world. It took him a few seconds to realise it
was only the alarm on his phone and he blindly reached out to turn it off. It
couldn't have been that long, but he already knew time in the white place and
time in reality were entirely separate things. Dragging himself up, he felt
worse than before he had tried to sleep. His limbs were like lead, his thoughts
too slow and too fast in alternate blocks and he was swimming in a sea of
fatigue.
"Give keys back," he said to make sure he knew where he had to be going.
It took more effort than he wanted to admit, just to keep that straight in his
head. By the time the bell rang he had just made it to Finstock's classroom and
he stood there swaying as the tide of the freshman class broke over him.
"Stilinski," Finstock said as soon as the man caught sight of him hovering in
the doorway, "you look worse than you did before and I didn't think that was
possible."
"Coach," he said, holding out the keys.
He was supposed to be stepping forward, he knew that, but he just didn't seem
to be able to find the energy. Everything around him was kind of shiny where he
was looking and going dark on the edges. It made him feel very surreal and it
was only as everything moved far too fast that he realised he was pitching
forwards. Mercifully everything went black before he hit the ground.
"Stilinski," he heard someone saying, "everyone calls him Stiles."
"Stiles, Stiles, can you hear me?" someone closer asked and he felt something
being put over his face.
He did his best to reply, but all that came out was a mumble that never had a
chance at being real words.
"Well done, Stiles," the someone said, "do you think you can open your eyes for
me?"
He tried, he really did, but his eyelids were so heavy and every time he
managed to flick them open they fell back closed too quickly. It was
frustrating and he desperately wanted to do as he was asked, but it was so
hard.
"Hey, it's okay," the person told him, "you're doing fine. Just relax for me
and breathe, the oxygen will help make everything clearer."
"Do you know if he's ingested any substances?" another voice asked from further
away.
"Stilinski's always been clean," Finstock replied. "He said he's been having
trouble sleeping. His father is the sheriff and you must have read about the
disappearances; the kid's been different since then, but it's been worse over
the last week."
"People don't usually collapse from insomnia," the other voice said.
"Stiles," the person looking after him grabbed his limited attention, "I'm just
going to put an IV in your arm. You're showing signs of dehydration so that
should help. It will sting a little, but I've numbed the area so it won't for
long."
The warning didn't really help, he still grunted as the needle went in, but the
paramedic, he decided it had to be a paramedic, was right, it didn't last long.
"He's set up," his carer said.
"Right," the other one replied, "let's get him to the hospital. Thank you Mr
Finstock."
Something jostled and there was a click and then the sensation of more motion.
Stiles wasn't really with it enough to figure out exactly what was happening,
but he knew they were moving. He didn't even have enough brain power to worry
about where.
"Stiles!"
At that sound his brain woke up a bit. His thoughts screamed alpha before they
informed him it was Scott and his body tried to respond on pure instinct. He
even managed to open his eyes in time to just about make out Scott's worried
face.
"Hey, aren't you Melissa McCall's son?" his paramedic asked.
"Yes," Scott replied, "what's wrong with Stiles."
"That's what we're hoping to find out at the hospital," the other paramedic
said.
"Look," Scott said, "I'm his best friend, can I ride along, I can help with
contacting his dad and everything?"
"I don't know..." one said.
"The kid opened his eyes for him," the other countered quickly, he was
definitely Stiles' favourite, "and his mom's a friend."
There was silence for a while and Stiles let his eyes drift closed again.
"Okay," was the eventual agreement, "just keep out of the way, okay?"
"Sure," Scott said and when a warm hand settled on his arm Stiles felt a little
better.
His confused thoughts were only just ticking over and at the touch they settled
on, 'pack, alpha, safe', and it never occurred to him he really had no reason
to be reacting like that since he wasn't a werewolf. He fell asleep with
Scott's hand on his skin and, for once, he didn't dream.
~*~
The next time he woke up he almost panicked, because he was staring at white,
but he blinked and a perfectly ordinary hospital ceiling came in to focus. The
first thing he noticed after that was there was a hand in each of his, on one
side Scott and on the other his dad.
"Hey," he said feeling woozy, but actually somewhat better than the morning.
"Hey there, kid," his dad said, smiling at him, "how are you feeling?"
At least the lines of worry eased a little on his dad's face seeing he was
awake.
"Like road kill," he replied, "but better. Did I really faint in front of
Finstock?"
He was probably never living that down.
"Yeah," Scott said looking him over with the anxious little frown, "according
to what Isaac heard after they carted you off, you went down like a felled
tree."
"And do the great minds of the medical profession have any idea why I did
that?" he asked, hoping that maybe there was a perfectly rational explanation.
Scott and his dad shared a look.
"They've done lots of tests," his dad told him, "but so far they can only find
symptoms. You're exhausted and undernourished."
"But I eat all the time," he protested, because that didn't make any sense.
"Son," his dad said in a very serious tone, "is there anything you'd like to
tell us?"
"Like what?" he asked genuinely not getting it.
"Have you been eating, really?" his dad asked.
Then he got it.
"Yes," he said emphatically, "I have been eating and I have not been doing
anything like throwing it up. I do not have an eating disorder, I just can't
sleep properly."
"Stiles," his dad said in a gentle, but firm tone, "your symptoms aren't for
insomnia."
"That's because it's not insomnia," he said, finally giving in to the reality
that something had to be going on, "I sleep here, but I wake up somewhere else.
The white place, where we went," he explained and looked at Scott. "There's a
white wolf and a black one too now and every time I try to sleep I end up
there. Except this time," he added, not sure what that meant.
"How long has this been going on?" his dad asked.
"About a week," he replied. "I've been having dreams ever since that night,"
they both knew what he was talking about so he didn't have to specify, "but it
wasn't bad until this week. I tried to ignore it."
Both Scott and his dad gave him The Look for that.
"This sounds like it's nemeton related," Scott said, standing up and pulling
out his phone. "I'll give Deaton a call, see what he says."
Stiles just nodded and Scott quickly exited the room to make the phone call.
"Hey, kid," his dad said, reaching up and smoothing his hair back from his face
for him as if he was six again, "do you think you can sleep some more? You look
like you need it."
"I'll try," he said, because he was still wiped out.
"I'll be right here," his dad promised him as he closed his eyes.
It didn't take long, he was that exhausted and his body and mind were more than
happy to succumb to sleep.
He woke up curled next to the white wolf and this time he couldn't help it, he
buried his face in its fur and cried.
~*~
"Stiles, you need to wake up now."
He didn't want to move. At least the wolf's fur was soft and it seemed content
to just let him lay there. How long it had been he had no idea, but he'd
stopped crying a while ago and now he felt kind of empty.
"Please, Stiles, everyone is worried."
He ignored the request.
Something touched his arm and he felt like he had been connected to a battery.
His nerves crackled and it hurt. He woke up gasping to find his hospital room
full of people. Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Ethan, Aiden and Scott were all there,
all holding hands in a semi-circle with Deaton inside it and his dad and
Scott's mom standing off to one side. Scott had a hand on his arm and he
realised what had woken him.
"I'm sorry we had to do it that way," Deaton said, "but you were not
responding."
"There again," he said feeling utterly drained.
"And being pulled back there time and again is draining you mentally and
physically," Deaton said, "so we had better find out why this is happening."
If he had had the energy, Stiles would have laughed; that was kind of obvious.
"Thank you everyone," Deaton said, turning and smiling at all the worried
faces, "you have been most helpful, but if you would now mind waiting outside.
Scott, please stay, I believe you are acting as a partial ground to Stiles,
and, of course, you Sheriff."
"See you soon, Stiles," Allison said and gave him a smile as everyone filed
out.
"What was that all about?" Stiles asked once they had gone.
"You were very far away," Deaton told him, coming round the side of the bed
now, "and you energies were very low. Your pack leant you theirs to bring you
back."
Not long ago Stiles probably would have questioned at least some of that
statement, but he had seen so much recently he just accepted it.
"Okay," he said. "What now?"
"Now I would like you to tell me exactly what you see when you are pulled onto
the other plane," Deaton said, giving him a small smile of support. "Scott
mentioned you were seeing wolves, can you describe them to me?"
That at least was easy.
"It's mostly one," he said, remembering the soft feel of its fur; "it's huge
and white and it has white eyes ringed in red. When I first started dreaming it
was far away, but now it's right beside me."
"And what else do you see?" Deaton asked.
"I'm always on this platform," he replied, "and it's surrounded by a black
moat; it looks like tar. I touched it once and my hand just went straight
through it as if it was nothing; it was like reaching into space. I can see the
nemeton as well, but it's a long way away and there used to be walls, but now
it's just white forever. Just before I collapsed at school I saw another wolf,
it was black and a long way away too. It felt familiar though."
Deaton was looking at him in a way that made him a little uncomfortable.
"You know what it means, don't you?" he said.
For a moment Deaton hesitated, but then nodded.
"Can you fix it?" his dad asked.
"There is nothing to fix," Deaton replied turning and looking at everyone in
the room in turn, "what is happening here is not an aberration. It is
unprecedented, but it is a natural cycle."
"The why is it killing my son?" his dad demanded and Stiles thought that was
pretty strong wording until neither Scott nor Deaton disagreed.
"Beacon Hills is awakening," Deaton said, "and not only do we have a true
alpha," he looked significantly at Scott, "but now we also have a white wolf."
"What's a white wolf?" Stiles asked, because if he was asking questions he
didn't have to think about the whole death part.
Deaton gave him one of those 'all my attention is on you and I can see into
your soul' kind of looks.
"You are," Deaton said.
That didn't make any sense at all.
"Have you been sniffing mistletoe?" he asked and Deaton actually smiled.
"What does it mean?" Scott asked the sensible question.
"A white wolf is a human who runs with wolves, a kind of emissary, but linked
to the pack at a far more basic level and with far more extensive powers; the
ultimate of which is the ability to become a wolf without ever being a
werewolf."
Stiles opened his mouth to respond to that, but he honestly had no idea what to
say.
"If Stiles is one of these white wolves, why is he sick?" Scott asked.
"Because he has yet to find a ground."
Stiles looked at Scott: "I thought you said Scott was grounding me?"
"And he is, to some extent," Deaton replied, "because he is your alpha, however
the connection is fragile, it only works while he is touching you."
"But why me?" he asked. "Why did this happen, I never asked for it?"
"The white wolf you see when you sleep is the personification of the power,"
Deaton said. "When you sacrificed yourself for your father you must have
attracted attention. The closer the white wolf came to you in the other place,
the more the power awoke in you, but the transition from one to the other is
draining your reserves. The only way to stop it is to assimilate the magic into
yourself properly."
"And, just in the aim of full disclosure, if I wanted to do that how would I?"
"You need to find your ground within the pack. The amount of power a white wolf
can command is truly impressive, but nature does not like such imbalance. To be
able to wield such power a white wolf must be bound to a pack, an individual
within the pack to be precise. The individual also gains in power from the
connection and the pack gains in strength. Usually it would be the alpha, but
you two do not have the right connection."
Stiles was pretty sure he didn't like the word 'bound'.
"But we're like brothers," he said and he honestly couldn't think of a closer
connection he had to any of his friends.
"And that would be the problem," Deaton said and looked just a little
apologetic, "the bond is usually that of mates."
Part of Stiles was ridiculously relieved that Scott wasn't his match after that
revelation, because 'eeeew' he and Scott did not have that kind of
relationship. However, then he processed the implications.
"But none of them like me like that," is what he blurted out.
Before Lydia had kissed him that idea would have filled him with joy, but,
frankly, what the whole kissing incident had done was wake him up to the fact
all his fantasies were just that; fantasies. He loved Lydia, a lot, but not, so
much, like that anymore.
"And they're all involved with other people," he pointed out.
"And he's only sixteen," his dad pointed out.
"I'm seventeen in eight days," he protested and tried to sit up, before
realising he just didn't have the strength for it.
All the fight went out of him as he sagged back against the pillows.
"Unfortunately, the situation does not seem to be concerned with the ages of
those involved," Deaton replied. "Scott is far too young to be a true alpha
under normal circumstance, but Beacon Hills is very far from normal. There is
also nothing to say there could not be three people in a mating bond."
Stiles wasn't sure whether to be outraged or really turned on by that idea, but
he didn't have much energy to react anyway so it didn't actually matter.
"I cannot believe you suggested a three way with my dad in the room," is what
he decided to say.
"I can't believe you suggested a three way to my sixteen year old son," his dad
said and seemed somewhat stuck on that last point.
"I am sorry," Deaton said and didn't really sound it, "but this situation needs
to be resolved. Stiles saw another wolf while on the other side, that is the
visual representation of his balance within the pack. He must find out who it
is and bond with them or he will eventually die. Scott can keep him grounded
and allow him to recover some of his strength, but that solution will not last
forever for obvious reasons."
"Love you, buddy," Stiles said to Scott, "but I'm not holding hands with you
for the rest of my life."
Then something else occurred to him.
"If I'm seeing a wolf does that mean the one I'm supposed to find is a wolf, or
is that just because they're part of a wolf pack?" he asked.
"I am not sure," Deaton replied.
"And how am I supposed to know which one to pick?"
"Once you are feeling better I suggest you follow your instincts," Deaton said.
"You should already be sensing the draw, but it is possible you are simply too
exhausted."
It was all a bit much to deal with and he was so damn tired. There were so many
questions he needed to ask, like 'why me?' several hundred more times before it
started to make sense.
"And what if I don't want this?" he decided to simply be direct about it. "What
if I say no? How do I get rid of it?"
Deaton actually looked shocked at that question, as if someone refusing such
power had never crossed his mind.
"I don't know," Deaton replied. "Stiles, this is not something that just
happens, you were chosen for a reason."
"And maybe I don't want to be chosen," he replied, because, hell this thing had
almost killed him and he was so not the person to have a ridiculous amount of
power; his impulse control was terrible.
The universe seemed to like taking his life and turning everything about it
inside out and he was sick of it.
"Then that is something you need to take up with the white wolf you have been
seeing," Deaton said, "but not yet; you are far too weak. What you need right
now is rest."
At least that was one thing Stiles could agree on.
"Scott, do you mind not letting go for a while?" he asked in lieu of anything
more sensible to say.
"Sure," Scott said.
"Cool," he decided, "then I'm going to go back to sleep and maybe this will
make more sense when I wake up."
It was amazing what he could manage when he needed to and when no one argued
with him he drifted right off.
~*~
He woke up once in the middle of the night to find Scott was in the bed with
him and it was very cosy, but he went straight back to sleep almost
immediately. He was finally getting the rest he needed and his body was taking
full advantage. No dreams, no white wolves, just complete, uninterrupted rest.
When he woke up again, Scott was snoring in his ear and he was feeling so much
better his brain decided it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
That was about how the rest of his day went as well. He ate, he slept thanks to
Scott and the hospital finally let him go home that evening. Then he continued
to just eat and rest for the next day as well. Since Scott had to go to school
he didn't sleep while Scott was away, but he curled up in front of the TV with
his dad, who had taken compassionate leave, and did nothing except watch bad
TV. Day three after his collapse was a Saturday and he was feeling well enough
to want to find out for himself what was going on.
"I want to go back to the white place," he said as he and Scott sat playing
video games.
"You still look like a strong wind could blow you over," Scott replied, giving
him a very critical look.
"But now I'm having trouble sleeping because I keep wanting to know," he
replied. "It's time."
"Are you sure?" Scott asked.
He nodded; he had been thinking about it all day. It was just a fact that he
wasn't back to full strength, but he wasn't even sure that was possible in the
current situation. He needed to understand and he needed to understand right
now.
"Give me an hour," he said, "finally making the whole decision, if I don't wake
up after that, call Deaton and get everyone back together to pull me out of
it."
The little frown between Scott's eyebrows said his best friend was not overly
happy with the plan, but he could also tell Scott was not about to object.
"I'm going to text everyone to be ready, just in case," Scott said and Stiles
could live with that, so he agreed.
The fact that he was still tired meant it wouldn't take much for him to fall
asleep, so he made himself comfortable on the couch as Scott sent his text. He
heard beeps of acknowledgement from Scott's phone only seconds later and knew
that the pack was primed. It did make him feel more confident even if he didn't
say so out loud.
"Ready?" Scott asked, sitting down in the chair right next to him, but just out
of reach.
"As I'll ever be," he replied. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," Scott said and it was all sincerity.
Wondering how long it would be before he dropped off, Stiles closed his eyes.
It would be just like his rebellious brain to refuse to sleep now he needed to.
However, when he opened his eyes to see how long it had been, Stiles found
himself kneeling next to the white wolf on the dais, almost exactly how he had
expected. It probably wasn't good that he couldn't tell the difference between
waking and sleeping anymore.
"Um, hi," he said, suddenly feeling awkward, which was totally ridiculous.
The wolf looked at him, those haunting eyes glowing gently.
"Look," he decided to go for it, "I don't want it, okay? I'm not the right
person for this sort of power."
The wolf's expression did not change.
"I know it's an honour, but I'm not the right guy," he continued. "I'm just
Stiles and I have enough trouble with what goes on in my head without adding a
whole other dimension of possible shit. I'm the spaz that has panic attacks in
hallways and just does things because for a second they seem like a really cool
idea."
His companion yawned.
"Now that's just rude," he said, feeling silly for talking to a wolf for a few
seconds. "Why didn't you give it to Allison, she's human and a lot better at
this supernatural stuff than I am."
Now he finally got a reaction and he was pretty sure the wolf had just raised
its eyebrows at him.
"I mean she can be a little trigger happy, but... oh okay," he admitted when
the 'eyebrows' rose higher, "Allison might have been a bad choice. Then how
about just not giving it to any of us?" he suggested.
The wolf turned its head on one side as if considering this and then looked to
the left. Stiles followed its eye line and frowned at the whiteness for a
moment. It took a little while, but his vision adjusted and he could see dark
shapes in the far distance. As he looked at them something cold curled in the
pit of his stomach and he immediately looked back at the wolf.
"What are they?" he demanded.
For just a moment the wolf bared its teeth and confirmed what Stiles was
thinking; the shapes were bad. They were a long way off, but he knew, without
any idea how, that they were focused on Beacon Hills.
"It's the nemeton isn't it," he said, putting the facts together; "they're
coming because it's awake."
The wolf slowly blinked, which Stiles took as a yes.
"Are they coming together?" he asked, because that thought was terrifying.
The wolf looked away and he took that as a no.
"They're why you came to me," he didn't need to ask that, he already knew the
answer.
The wolf stood up and stepped closer to him, pushing its head into his hand. It
almost felt like an apology, but Stiles knew there was no choice now. There was
no way he could leave Beacon Hills unprotected.
"So I have to find my ground," he said, more to himself than the wolf.
As the white wolf nudged his shoulder, he took the hint and looked up and there
was the black wolf. It was still in the distance, but closer than before, maybe
because he was beginning to accept the truth. The idea of being bound to
someone didn't actually scare him as much as it might have done. He had never
been the type to go into something with half his heart and this sounded like a
whole heart kind of gig. What had him worried was the fact he did not get to
choose. All the mystical crap was choosing for him and he didn't like that.
Deaton had assured him his instincts would help and he had to admit the whole
wolf pack stuff was distinctly stronger than anything he had felt as an average
human, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with it.
He knew it was going to be hard, but then nothing in his life had been easy for
a long time now. Maybe his ground would give him some control, because he
dreaded to think what would happen to an ADHD human wolf.
~*~
"You don't feel anything, do you?" Scott said as they shared a packet of peanut
butter cups.
Stiles shook his head. It had been a whole day since he had been to the white
place and spoken to the wolf. However, he didn't seem to be getting anywhere.
"They're my friends," he replied, "and they've all been really nice about this
mess, I mean Allison and Isaac actually invited me..." he shut himself down as
he realised Scott really didn't need those details, "sorry. But, nope, nothing.
The closest I get to anything is you and, yeah, so not going there."
"Well we could if ..."
He looked at Scott's very unsure expression and half wished it might work; but
that way lay madness.
"Thanks, man, but totally can't get into that headspace even if we are sharing
a bed for the foreseeable future. Sorry," he added, because he really didn't
want to wreck Scott's life as well.
Scott just elbowed him in the side in a sign of bro solidarity.
"Deaton was so sure," Scott said after a few moments silence.
Stiles just nodded; it had sounded like a done deal. He wasn't even worrying
about male or female anymore, something that had bothered him until he realised
that it wasn't really and he was over thinking the whole thing, but there was
just nothing. He felt pack instincts, which was new and a little bizarre, but
not anything deeper.
"What if this isn't the whole pack?" he asked, because he'd exhausted all the
other possibilities.
"The only other werewolf in town is Peter," Scott pointed out.
"Brain bleach!" Stiles cried and made a horrified face. "I so did not want that
mental image. Besides, he's so creepy and plain crazy he is never going to be
pack. What if the rest of the pack isn't in town? I was seeing the wolf far
away, what if that means they're not here?"
"Jackson?" Scott asked, but sounded dubious.
"Hell no," Stiles replied; "nothing could ever make me want to sleep with
Jackson."
That really only left two possibilities.
"Derek and Cora," Scott said, following his reasoning, "but Cora is Derek's
family and Derek and I were never pack, not really."
"But at the end you were," Stiles said as it started to make sense. "You were
fighting together and not just out of necessity; you both cared. The whole
giving up his alpha status for Cora; what if it changed Derek enough that
you're finally not frenemies anymore? What if everything that happened made him
pack and maybe, through him, Cora? It would be just like you to adopt someone
without either of you realising it."
Scott's expression was unsure, but he definitely wasn't denying it.
"We could call Derek and ask," Scott suggested, which if that didn't say huge
amounts Stiles didn't know what did.
It was only a few months ago that Scott had eyed Derek like an enemy. Stiles
pulled out his phone and hit the right contact.
"Hello," came from the other end of the call.
"Hey, Derek, it's Stiles," he replied.
"Yes, I know, your name flashes up when you call."
Still typical Derek then.
"Okay, so this is going to sound like a weird question, but where are you?"
"The loft," Derek said.
"The loft where," Stiles said and wondered if Derek was now addicted to open
warehouse type spaces.
"Last time I checked I've only ever had one," Derek replied.
"Wait, what, you're back in town?" he checked, possibly looking at Scott a
little wild eyed.
"Yes," Derek replied. "I need to see Scott, I think something might be going
on."
"Going on how?" he asked. "And for the record, Scott's right here listening in
on the conversation."
"Hey Derek," Scott said.
"I'm not sure," Derek said without acknowledging the hello, "but I'm pretty
sure I was drawn back."
Stiles almost dropped the phone.
"By what?" he asked, trying to sound perfectly innocent.
"Dreams."
Stiles handed the phone to Scott and did his best to just breathe.
"We'll be right over," Scott said and hung up.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, it's Derek," Stiles said, because the whole idea sent
his thoughts zooming off in all directions.
"We don't know that," Scott pointed out.
"Yeah, of course we don't," he replied in a very sarcastic tone. "I've been
seeing a black wolf with blue eyes," he paused, he hadn't realised that part
before, it had to have been sitting in his subconscious, "and Derek gets
summoned back here by dreams. It couldn't be him, whatever was I thinking?"
"You never mentioned the blue eyes," Scott said.
"I didn't remember until just now," he defended himself. "My brain hasn't been
firing on all cylinders for days, hell, what am I saying, it never fires on all
cylinders, and I only saw him in the distance. It only just registered. Oh god,
what are we going to tell him? I don't see, 'hi, Derek, fancy fucking me now?'
going down very well."
"We tell him about the white wolf," Scott said in what Stiles suspected was
supposed to be a reassuring tone. "It's a werewolf thing, he might already know
about it."
Frankly, Stiles wasn't sure if that terrified him more or less.
"Come on," he said, standing and pulling his keys from his pocket, "before I
panic and run off to become a monk or something."
Scott didn't argue, just followed him as he walked towards the door.
~*~
***** Sex and Stuff *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles meets Derek for the first time since Derek left.
Deaton had said Stiles would feel his instincts fire when he found the right
person. What Deaton hadn't said was all the blood would vacate his brain for
parts further south and he'd totally lose the skills of thought and speech. He
literally fell over his own feet the moment he set eyes on Derek and Scott had
to catch him.
It really didn't help that Derek appeared to have just been in the shower and
was walking around in jeans and nothing else, drying his hair on a towel.
Stiles had never really considered Derek as wet dream material, but he did now.
"Hi," Scott said.
Derek just kind of grunted in return, which Stiles should not have found
arousing, but he so did.
"How was your trip?"
Stiles kind of wanted to strangle Scott at that moment, because now was not the
time for small talk.
"Enlightening," Derek replied, "until I started dreaming about the nemeton.
I've only been gone a month, do either of you know what's going on?"
"Me," Stiles said and was proud he managed to actually sound coherent.
"Me as in you know what's going on or you're causing it?" Derek asked and
Stiles saw Derek's nostrils flare just a little.
Stiles giggled and then clamped his hand over his mouth, because he had no idea
where that had come from.
"White wolf," he said, because Scott was so not helping.
It was all too obvious Derek knew what that meant.
"He's a white wolf?" Derek asked, looking at Scott for a sensible answer.
"Yeah, almost killed him before we figured it out," Scott replied.
"So you and he..?" Derek asked and there was something in his voice that called
to Stiles.
Scott shook his head.
"But you're the alpha," Derek pointed out.
"Totally platonic," Stiles said and indicated himself and Scott, utterly
astounded he had actually managed to say that.
"I've been grounding Stiles, but it only works when we're touching. We've been
trying to figure out who his mate is," Scott explained, "but none of the pack
were right. Then we realised maybe all the pack wasn't here?"
"Cora?" Derek asked, sounding protective and disappointed in the same breath.
"Guess again, Genius," Stiles said and at least his brain seemed to be kind of
working again.
"But we're not actually pack," Derek pointed out.
"Sorry to break it to you," Stiles said, "but Scott adopted you without even
realising it, all you had to do was exist."
Scott looked a little embarrassed about that and Stiles could understand why,
especially after all the shit Scott had given Derek about being an alpha and
wanting everyone in his pack. Derek, however, just considered it and shrugged
as if it was actually logical. Point one for the born werewolf.
That didn't really help Stiles, though, because, no matter how well Derek was
taking it, the truth of the situation was only just beginning to sink in. His
hormones were firing, but Stiles still had a brain and it was throwing up all
sorts of issues with the whole thing.
"Scott," he said, suddenly feeling very awkward, "could you leave us alone?"
There were things he was never going to be able to say in front of his best
friend.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Scott asked, looking him over very
carefully.
"Derek and I need to talk," he said simply and that was all that was needed.
Scott took one look over at Derek and said; "Look after him, okay?" and Derek
nodded and that was it.
Not so long ago Stiles was sure there would have been a long drawn out
argument, but not anymore. Everything with the nemeton and the darkness had
shifted things in Beacon Hills and Scott had been different ever since he had
become a True Alpha. This felt like just another piece of a huge puzzle they
were all part of and had no power over.
"Call if you need anything," Scott said and Stiles managed to crack a smile at
that, because he had a dirty mind and he was proud of it, thank you very much.
Scott just rolled his eyes, patted him on the arm and then headed for the door.
"Make yourself at home," Derek said, helpfully reaching for a shirt that was
over the back of the couch.
As the door slid shut, Stiles walked further into the room and was very glad
when his legs actually seemed to be working again. He had never been in a
situation quite like this before and he really had no idea what to do. In the
end he decided to go with direct, because he wasn't exactly subtle at the best
of times.
"Well the sexual attraction's not going to be a problem," he said and sat down,
waiting to find out Derek's reaction.
"I know," Derek said in a surprisingly understanding tone.
"Sorry," he apologised, because he had been pretty obvious.
"Not a problem from my side either," Derek said and he looked up, surprised.
"So this is messing with you too?" he asked, because he hadn't noticed Derek
reacting anything like he had.
"No," Derek said and Stiles frowned, because that didn't make much sense.
Admittedly his brain wasn't working at top speed, but it took him a little
while to put that together.
"You mean you..?" he wasn't sure how to ask.
"Have been attracted to you for some time," Derek finished for him candidly.
"But you never ..."
"You're sixteen," and actually Stiles could accept that.
Sometimes, because their lives had become so crazy, he simply forgot about the
age difference between most of them and Derek.
"Seventeen later this week, if it helps," he offered hopefully.
Derek lifted one eyebrow and Stiles wasn't quite sure if that meant it did or
it didn't.
"Do you think the attraction was why this picked you?" he asked, because he
still wasn't quite sure how that had worked out.
"Probably part of it," Derek replied. "You don't seem horrified that it's me,
though."
It was a valid point and Stiles had to say he wasn't. The whole raging
attraction part helped, but his higher thoughts were still functioning and no
part of his brain was screaming an objection.
"I've been Lydia-centric so long I think I forgot to notice if I was straight
or not," he replied. "This whole thing kind of pointed out that maybe I wasn't
and you might not have noticed, but you are very easy on the eyes."
The little shrug from Derek was definitely not a denial.
"And everything that's happened over the last few months," Stiles said, "has
definitely changed how I saw you. Not gonna lie, I never imagined anything like
this. Maybe it's part of the whole giving up your alpha power thing as well. As
Deaton always says, nature likes a balance, so maybe this is a way of giving
something back."
"Or I have such deplorable taste in women the universe has decided to take that
suicidal tendency away from me," Derek commented.
Stiles snorted a laugh before he had even thought about it and Derek smiled a
little as well.
"Well then, who am I to argue with the universe's Derek-preservation
instincts," he replied.
"This has to be really strange for you," Derek said after a few minutes pause.
"You're not used to supernatural instincts."
"Really weird," Stiles admitted with a nod, "but I talked to the wolf. There
are things coming, bad things, and I don't know when or what they are, but
there's no way I'm leaving Scott and everyone to deal with that. I don't think
I'm a good choice, but weirder shit had happened in this town, so I've decided
to accept it."
Derek looked at him for a while.
"That's a very mature attitude," Derek commented.
"Yeah, well it helps that I have a huge boner for you as well," he replied and
totally smashed the mood.
He managed to make Derek smile again though, so it was worth it.
"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked.
It looked as if Derek considered that for a few moments.
"I was born a wolf," Derek replied eventually; "I've known about things like
this my whole life. White wolves are stories, fairytales for children, but my
mother always stressed how important such things could be. You surprised the
hell out of me, but, to me, it makes sense."
"You mean you've been conditioned to accept things like this since you were a
kid, so you're just going with it?" Stiles asked.
"Kind of," Derek said with a sad little smile.
There was something lost in that smile and Stiles felt the instant need to fix
it.
"So," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat, "how do we do this?"
Stiles really didn't expect it when Derek moved off the couch and knelt down on
one knee in front of him.
"Stiles," Derek said, looking at him completely seriously, "will you do me the
honour of becoming my mate?"
Part of Stiles wanted to laugh, because it felt utterly ridiculous, but the
rest of him knew just how important this was to Derek. It also changed his
perception and suddenly he could feel everything balanced, as if on a knife
edge, waiting for his answer. Only then did he realise that he actually had a
choice.
The doubts and fears began to fade as, with total certainty, he knew that he
could say no. All the instincts, all the hormones, they were signposts and
instigators, but they were not compulsions. In that moment it all became clear.
He wasn't sure what would happen if he did say no, but the knowledge sank in
that the option was there.
That changed everything.
"Yes," he said and as Derek stood up and took his hand he felt part of
something inside him click into place.
Just for a second the loft seemed to partially fade out, leaving only him and
Derek in focus and he swayed towards his mate.
"Woah," Derek said, catching him gently as he swayed too far, "are you okay?"
"Don't let go," he said, leaning his cheek against Derek's shoulder, "please."
It felt right and perfect and he didn't want to move ever again.
"What should I do?" Derek asked and it was kind of settling to know Derek was
just as lost as he was.
"Would you mind kissing me?" he asked, looking up, because it was the first
thing that came into his head.
He had never kissed a man before, he hadn't kissed that many girls either, but
definitely not a man. The stubble was a bit of a shock. Other than that though,
it didn't seem that much different and he threw himself into it. Almost
immediately it was as if something clicked again, like the second barrel of a
combination lock and he shivered with the feeling of magic. As is slithered
into him he realised that he had felt a reflection of it several times over the
last few months and he began to wonder how one baseball bat had held up a whole
roof or how that crash hadn't actually done more than bang his head. The spark
Deaton had told him about had never been as strong as what he was feeling at
that moment, but now he could see what it had been.
When the kiss broke he smiled and his vision sparkled.
"Wow," he said, feeling a little lightheaded.
He looked around as the bright loft and little flashes danced at the edges of
his sight. Without really meaning to, he followed them, turning out of Derek's
arms and gazing about.
"Stiles?" Derek asked from behind him.
"Lights," he said, "lots of pretty lights."
More and more of them started to leap into his sight as the feeling of magic
and energy built inside him. It became so bright that he closed his eyes and
just felt. For a while it swept him away and he let it take him. However,
eventually he had to open his eyes and that was when everything changed.
"Derek!" he screamed, reaching out blindly into what was stark whiteness.
Terror ripped through his chest because there was nothing, just power and him
and it seemed to go on forever. Any illusion of control was gone. He felt as if
he was going to break apart into infinity and there was nothing to stop him.
"I've got you."
The words were whispered in his ear as arms wrapped around him from behind,
pulling him back against a firm, strong chest.
"You're not alone."
He actually sobbed at that as the fear ebbed a little, but the raw power he
could feel still scared the shit out of him.
"Let it in," Derek told him, "I won't let you go."
"I don't want it," Stiles whispered even though he knew there was no going
back.
"It's just a reflection of you at a supernatural level," Derek said. "It can't
change you, only you can change it."
"But I'm the ADHD nightmare who can't even think without medication," he said,
as all his insecurities bubbled to the surface.
"Maybe, maybe not," Derek told him, "but you're Stiles and you're mine."
It was just what he needed to hear and in a corner of his mind it occurred to
him this was another reason he had been so blatantly pointed at Derek. Scott
probably would have tried to placate him, tell him he wasn't what he thought
even though he knew at a base level it was true. That wouldn't have helped, but
Derek hadn't completely denied the reality, just made him look at it another
way.
"It's so much," he said, awed by what he was feeling. "I remember, before, the
spark, but not this. How can I control this?"
"The same way you control yourself," Derek said. "I can feel it too, you don't
need to be afraid."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
That was all he needed and he let go. It was like white lightning down his
nerves, electrifying and terrifying in equal measure, but there was no pain. It
was not comfortable, mostly because he felt as if he was filling up with energy
and there was nowhere for it to go, but it was not painful.
"Der...ek," he stuttered, "I'm going to explode."
"No you're not," Derek said, holding him in an even tighter embrace.
Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He still couldn't see anything
except white and as the magic poured through him he realised it was beginning
to look a little grey on the edges. That was not good, definitely not good, but
there wasn't anything he could do about it.
"Gonna pass out," he mumbled just as he felt his knees beginning to go.
He didn't actually lose touch with reality completely, but everything was all
mixed up for a while. The fact he was hoisted bridal style into strong arms did
make it into his head and then he was placed on something soft and comfortable,
but that was about it. Derek never stopped touching him. If Derek had, he was
pretty sure he would have lost it, but as the magic raged inside him doing
things he totally did not understand, Derek's firm presence kept him grounded.
Slowly reality began to come back. As he blinked, first it was hazy greys and
blobs, then slowly colour and form started to bleed in. When he could finally
make out Derek looking down at him he felt his equilibrium beginning to
reassert itself.
"Rush," he said, or tried to say, but his tongue didn't seem to be quite back
to working order yet.
"I know," Derek replied, face as serious as usual, but something warm in his
eyes.
"Get you too?"
"Some," Derek told him, "but I don't think we're done yet."
"Can't move," he pointed out.
His limbs felt heavy and unresponsive and all the energy he had managed to claw
back from sleeping in contact with Scott seemed to have drained away. On one
level he felt like he should be able to walk on the moon, on the other blinking
was hard.
"We have plenty of time," Derek told him and there was a hint of a smile. "Go
to sleep."
"Not the boss of me," was what he tried to reply, just to be contrary, what
came out resembled it very little even as his eyes slowly slid shut.
~*~
Sleeping like the dead really hadn't been how Stiles expected the next few
hours to go, but he woke up to sunlight coming through the windows. He was
curled on his side and another body was curled up against his back. It took his
foggy brain a while to remember who it was.
"Good morning," Derek greeted against his neck.
"Morning," he mumbled back and realised he had just had the best night's sleep
he had had, well, since his mom died at least; he had to have been asleep for
ten hours at least.
"How are you feeling?"
He had fallen asleep after being invaded by an incredible amount of energy and
he could feel it under his skin, but it wasn't pushing at him or anything.
Everything wasn't settled, he could sense that, but it was better than he had
felt since the sacrifice.
"Good," he said, turning so he could see Derek.
Clearly Derek had been awake a while because there was no trace of sleepiness
in his features.
"How about you?"
"Good too," was the short response.
It was only as he moved again that Stiles caught up with the fact he was not
wearing all the clothes he had been when he fell asleep. He was in his t-shirt
and his boxers, but his jeans, socks, shoes and shirt were gone.
"You undressed me?" he asked the obvious question.
"Sleeping in clothes isn't fun," Derek replied; "I hope you don't mind."
Stiles shook his head; he couldn't say he did. The fact Derek was wearing a t-
shirt and sweats helped, because it didn't feel too weird.
"And you're a cuddler?"
"It's a werewolf thing," Derek said with a shrug.
"Me too," Stiles said, "a cuddler I mean. Mom and I used to sit on the couch
and cuddle up and fall asleep watching movies, Dad too sometimes, but not
since..."
He stopped talking before he dug himself into a black hole he really didn't
want to visit.
"I thought you were straight," he barrelled on.
"Bi," Derek said.
"Never would have guessed," Stiles admitted; "you give away no clues, dude."
"Don't call me dude," Derek replied and it almost sounded as if they were
having one of their normal conversations, "and it was probably the alpha
instincts. An overriding need for an alpha is to expand their pack, either by
the bite or breeding; because I'm bi not gay that will have overridden any
interest I have in the same sex. If I'd stayed alpha longer my natural
instincts probably would have reasserted themselves eventually."
"Sounds confusing," he said, trying to imagine what it must have been like for
Derek.
He had glimpsed what pack instincts were like over the last few days so he had
a fair idea how suddenly being an alpha might have messed with Derek.
"Different, but less confusing actually," Derek explained; "the instincts are
there to help, even if some of them are difficult to deal with when trying to
be civilised."
That made Stiles' brain flick back to his own revelation.
"I could have said no," he blurted out.
Derek frowned at him.
"Sorry," he apologised, "talking about instincts you just reminded me, last
night, when you proposed, I realised I could have said no. It made everything
okay."
The way Derek nodded suggested he knew exactly what Stiles was talking about
and that made everything easier as well. Being a born wolf seemed to help a lot
in the current situation if Stiles was any judge.
"So you've done this before," he checked with a completely unnecessary, hand
wavy gesture to indicate what he was talking about, "with a guy?"
Derek simply nodded.
"When Laura took us to New York," Derek replied. "For a while after," the pause
told Stiles all he needed to know about what they were talking about, "I didn't
want anyone near me, but then I met a boy. He was a year older than me and so
different from...her... that I wasn't afraid anymore. We were together for a
year and we learned a lot with each other."
"Why'd you break up?" Stiles asked before he thought better of it.
"We were teenagers," Derek replied with a shrug, "we drifted in different
directions and I didn't want to tell him about the wolf stuff. We parted
friends, but he knew I was hiding something."
"Sucks," he commented.
Derek didn't look overly cut up about it, however.
"So," Stiles said, "what next?"
"What do you want to do next?" Derek countered with a question of his own.
It took a force of will, but Stiles managed not to follow any of the hundred
and one trains of thought that offered him.
"Um," was the most sensible thing he could think of to say. "Well, what would
count to complete what we started?"
Mentally he was cursing himself for suddenly feeling so nervous. It wasn't as
if he hadn't considered this.
"It's a mating bond so we probably have to go all the way," Derek said and
Stiles stomach disappeared in a whole flock of butterflies.
"And who has to top?" he asked.
Facts, he could deal with facts.
"Both of us."
That was not the answer he had expected.
"Really?" Some of his nerves were forgotten as his curiosity was piqued.
"You're very powerful, Stiles," Derek told him, "and I'm your ground; we have
to be equals in this. We don't have to switch all the time if you don't want
to, but to formalise the bond it would be a good idea."
Something inside of him relaxed a little at that information. The darker parts
of his mind had had visions of Derek having to fuck him into submission or
something.
"So which do you normally prefer?" he asked, because they were having an adult
conversation and he could do this.
"Never really cared," Derek revealed.
"Wow, you're not really alpha at all are you?" he said before his brain caught
up with his mouth. "Shit, sorry," he apologised almost immediately.
Surprisingly his verbal diarrhoea drew a smile out of Derek.
"No," Derek replied, "I'm not. That was never really me."
"You seem much more relaxed now," he commented with about as much tact as ever.
"I am," was the honest response.
Stiles smiled; he was glad.
"Right," he said after a moment, "back on topic. How ... um ... what..?"
"A shower?" Derek suggested.
Part of Stiles sighed in relief, part of him panicked.
"Okay," he said, hoping he didn't sound as out of his depth as he felt.
He was nearly seventeen, but he felt like a kid as Derek climbed off the bed
and then offered him a hand. He took it and tried to smother his nerves with
the anticipation that was swirling in his belly. He'd been naked with other
guys a hundred times in the locker rooms, but he'd never been "naked" with
another guy.
Stiles had always thought Derek's bathroom was surprisingly nice for a barely
habitable loft, but admiring the decor wasn't really part of the plan now. When
Derek just began to strip as soon as they were inside, Stiles tried to do the
same, only he found his attention being very much dragged from himself. Derek
was still all lean muscle and smooth skin and Stiles couldn't help himself; he
stared.
"Like what you see?" Derek asked in a casual tone as he stepped out of his
sweatpants.
Derek wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Oh god yes," Stiles replied, "and I'm allowed to look now, right?"
"You're allowed to look," Derek confirmed with a small smirk, "as long as I'm
allowed to look as well."
Stiles glanced down at himself and all the nerves suddenly came back. He felt
instantly inadequate. Derek was a Greek god, a very well endowed Greek god, and
he was a skinny adolescent. When Derek stepped closer he looked up again, but
he wasn't sure what to do.
"What's that look for?" Derek asked.
"Why would you want me?" he replied with his own question.
"You mean apart from the broad shoulders, legs that go on forever and moles
that I want to trace with my tongue?" Derek replied and managed to stun him
speechless. "You are the most intelligent person I have ever met and I don't
just mean book smarts..."
"Um, Lydia," he felt he had to point out.
"Lydia doesn't count as a normal human being," Derek acquiesced, "she is in a
class of her own. You have saved my life more times than I care to count. You
can be the most annoying person on the face of the planet and yet, god help me,
I like it. When everything is going to hell you just say something and it all
seems manageable again."
"You like that I'm annoying?"
"I like that you should be annoying and aren't," Derek said. "I don't like that
you're still wearing clothes."
"Oh," was the best he could do.
"Want some help?" Derek asked and just lightly touched the hem of his shirt.
He nodded and let Derek draw the material upwards. He still felt inadequate,
especially when he glanced down and saw what Derek was packing again, but the
way Derek looked at him made him think it might not matter.
"I'll start the water," Derek told him and left him standing there in his
boxers.
It took a swift mental kick to get himself to move after that. He shucked out
of his shorts quickly before he could change his mind and then when Derek
stepped into the shower he followed. He barely noticed the temperature of the
water because he was suddenly in Derek's personal space and his coordination
wasn't good enough to prevent skin contact. The power under his skin flared at
the touch.
"Do you mind if I wash your hair?" Derek asked as they stood under the spray.
"It's kind of a wolf thing."
"Social grooming?" Stiles asked because by now he knew everything there was to
know about real wolves.
"Something like that," Derek said.
"Sure," he replied; it wasn't what he had expected, but it made sense.
The moment Derek's fingers touched his head he was so glad he had said yes. No
one had washed his hair since his mom when he was younger, but this was an
entirely different experience. Derek's touch was firm, but caressing and Stiles
couldn't help himself, as Derek lathered his hair with shampoo he moaned. He
closed his eyes and decided that he was totally not going to be embarrassed by
how much his body was reacting to the simple show of affection. It was so nice
it even managed to shut him up, well mostly, he still made noise; it was in his
nature.
He was kind of disappointed when Derek told him to rinse. That didn't last
long, though, because then Derek had shower gel on his hands and those hands
were on Stiles.
"Okay?" Derek asked quietly.
"Yeah," he replied, strangely breathless.
It was almost an out of body experience as Derek slowly washed him and gently
nuzzled as his neck, just below his ear.
"If there's anything you don't like, just tell me," Derek said as his hands
moved downwards.
Stiles bit his tongue, because he knew if he opened his mouth he was never
going to stop talking, but he nodded. He was way out of his experience, but as
Derek touched him, clearly exploring, he felt safe and looked after in the
older man's care.
The fact he could feel the power inside him reacting to the contact really
didn't help him do anything sensible.
"Let me take care of you, please," Derek whispered.
"What about you?" he managed to say.
"We have plenty of time," Derek told him and so he nodded again.
Under Derek's ministrations, Stiles felt his cock hardening from semi-erect to
fully erect even though Derek hadn't dipped below his waist yet. The touches
were soothing and erotic at the same time and he felt himself relaxing into
them. When Derek's strong hands finally soaped over his buttocks he almost
tensed again, but he pushed the instinct away. Derek wouldn't do anything he
didn't want and if he didn't like it all he had to do was say.
As Derek kissed him he kissed back, letting Derek pull their bodies flush and
he could feel Derek's naked erection against his hip. It was far more intimate
than he had imagined and heat ran through his body. Soft lips covered his own
and he let his tongue dart out, deepening the kiss and bringing one of his
hands up to put against Derek's chest.
He was so involved in the touch of lips and tongues and the slight scratch of
stubble that he only belatedly realised what else Derek was doing. Only as the
pad of Derek's finger brushed across his hole did he notice where Derek's hand
actually was. He started at the touch, moving forward against Derek and Derek
stilled for a moment, clearly waiting to see what he would do and he took those
seconds for what they were. It had felt strange, but he wanted this, wanted it
far more than he could have realised, so he deepened the kiss again and moved
slightly to give Derek better access.
Permission given, Derek started to tease him carefully as they continued to
kiss. The shower gel was slick and they were only half under the spray now, so
Derek's finger moved over his hole smoothly, pushing just a little harder every
now and then. It was sensual and Stiles felt everything going straight to his
dick. He kept losing the kiss, because the touches distracted him and
eventually he put his face against Derek's shoulder and wound his arms around
his lover. Derek started kissing his neck instead and he moaned quietly,
nipping at the wet flesh under his lips.
For once he managed to draw a sound out of Derek, rather than the other way
round. He wasn't quite sure what he had done, but clearly to Derek it was a
signal to go up a gear, because Derek's slick finger finally breached him. He
gasped and trembled, but realised quickly that he was pushing back into the
sensation.
"Oh god," he said, the damn on his speech he had been so diligently trying to
maintain blowing away, "that ... oh god."
His chaotic brain really had no way to deal with all the new input and all he
could do was trust Derek. It was going to take him a while to adjust and his
thoughts were scattering in so many directions. Holding on, he did his best to
simply experience.
"Still okay?" Derek asked.
He nodded.
"More please," he said and pulled back a little, opening his eyes so he could
look at Derek, "oh my god, more."
Derek obliged, smiling at him just a little, and slowly moving the intruding
finger in and out of his hole.
"Never done this before," he said, unable to stop the words anymore; "should
have tried it years ago."
"I know what will make it even better," Derek told him and his mouth might have
fallen open as Derek slowly slid downwards. "You might want to hold on," Derek
added.
"Oh my god," he said yet again, because it seemed to be only appropriate and
grabbed for anything in reach that would support him.
Then he swore much more colourfully as Derek sucked his dick into what Stiles
was learning was a very sinful mouth.
"Won't last," was as coherent as he managed, because he was only human and he
was a teenager and he had something of a hair trigger.
"Don't need to," Derek said, pulling off for a moment and then Derek pushed one
finger back inside him and began sucking him again.
He had no idea what he was saying, but he just couldn't shut up as the litany
of words was the only thing between him and ending everything before it had
barely begun. There was no chance of thinking unsexy thoughts to hold off, so
he spouted nonsense as Derek tried to suck his brain out through his dick. He
was proud that he managed to last a minute before he bucked into Derek's mouth
and fell apart. That finally did make him nonverbal for a while.
Derek looked like the wolf who'd just caught the rabbit when he stood up again.
Frankly, Stiles thought Derek deserved to.
It was nearly an hour later, after a slightly awkward discussion as to whether
Stiles wanted to carry on what they had been doing and bottom first or change
it up where he had decided to keep going down the road they were on; Derek had
spent ages opening him up with lube and fingers and Stiles had probably recited
the dictionary several times over while magic rippled under his skin, that
Derek finally pushed into him and barrel number three of their magical
combination lock clicked into place.
As far as Stiles was concerned sex was amazing and so he told Derek exactly how
amazing for as long as he could, until he came again with magic blowing his
mind at the same time.
After that his erection just didn't seem to want to go away and he couldn't for
the life of him stop touching Derek. He wasn't sure if Derek had even come yet,
but all he knew was he wanted to make Derek explode and he wanted to be inside
Derek when that happened. It was a goal and he could occasionally be very
focused when the goal was important. Thankfully Derek seemed perfectly happy to
help him to his goal, guiding him and offering up whatever he wanted.
If he was honest it was all a bit dreamlike and he knew time passed, but he
wasn't sure exactly how he ended up between Derek's legs sinking into warm,
slick heat and gazing into Derek's bright eyes. The magical sensations were
beginning to take over from the physical ones. The real world was what he could
only describe as fluffy on the edges as Stiles' awareness split between two
planes. He was trying to keep a rhythm as he stared down at Derek, but his body
just wasn't responding fast enough to his brain.
"Stiles," Derek said, voice tight with arousal and need, but laced with
concern.
It was a good thing too, because he seemed to lose all coordination for a
moment and ended up leaning over Derek and slipping out of him completely. The
power was prickling his skin and urging him on, but he couldn't seem to do it.
"Need to keep going," he said, trying to push back onto his knees.
He only managed to miss clumsily and then Derek was helping him to lie down on
the bed.
"What's wrong?" Derek asked.
"Magic," he said and grabbed Derek as his lover tried to move away. "Need to
finish."
His vision wasn't whiting out this time, but something else did flash into his
mind's eye every few seconds.
"Please," he begged, because things were happening and he needed Derek.
"Okay," Derek agreed and Stiles went to try and sit up, but Derek pushed him
down onto his back. "Let me," Derek told him.
He really wasn't ready for the show of athleticism as Derek straddled him, took
hold of his cock in a very firm manner and then slid down onto it. For a moment
his vision did flash and it had nothing to do with magic.
"Yes," he said as his body and magic responded.
Derek rocked above him doing all the work again, but Stiles didn't have the
time or thought processes to feel guilty. He was reaching for something on both
the magical and physical levels and with every move Derek made Stiles was
closer to both. His body was tightening with the familiar pressure of an
approaching orgasm, but his magic was spreading out.
"Pack," he said breathlessly. "Derek, I can feel them, I can feel you."
He didn't know how to explain it. They were all there: Scott, all bright and
warm with a shadow around him; Alison and Isaac, somewhere close together, all
but tangled; Lydia, sharp and soft at the same time; Ethan and Aiden, two and
yet one and oh so very broken; then there was Derek, so bright and so close
that he almost blinded Stiles as Derek's presence flooded him with warmth and
need.
For just a moment he felt them and he thought he felt echoes of the same coming
back at him before he fell apart, surrendering to his orgasm and to the power
inside of him. The magic that had joined with him when he and Derek first
kissed and had built at every stage settled into his very core and spread from
him, through him and Derek to the rest of the pack.
It was the most mind-blowing experience of his young life. He was pretty sure
he yelled something along with what sounded suspiciously like a howl from Derek
as the power took them.
He lay there staring at nothing, panting for what seemed like an age with Derek
all but collapsed on top of him.
"Derek," he finally said, patting Derek's shoulder.
Derek mumbled something back, but Stiles had no idea what it was.
"Derek, are you okay?" he asked, kicking his brain into something resembling
reality as he began to worry.
"Fine," Derek managed to be coherent this time, "just can't move. That was ..."
"Yeah," he agreed; he couldn't put it into words either.
After another few moments that definitely felt like Derek trying to gather the
will, Derek climbed off of him and collapsed onto the bed in what was a very
uncoordinated display. That made Stiles feel somewhat better about his
performance at least.
"Did you feel them?" he asked.
"Yes," Derek replied, lying on his back with his eyes closed.
"They're our pack," Stiles said in wonder, "even jerkoff 1 and jerkoff 2."
Derek snorted a laugh at that and Stiles could feel his body coming back under
his control, so he had to assume the same was true of Derek. He grinned to
himself as the mystical fog left him and he slowly pushed up on one elbow.
"Deaton said I should be able to turn into a wolf," he said as his brain kicked
back into gear.
"You're thinking about that now, really?" Derek looked at him askance.
"I think about everything all the time," he replied. "I'm also considering how
many other sexual position we have to try out, if my recovery time was to do
with the whole mystical thing we had going, or if it's the whole wolfy, but not
wolfy thing and a hundred other things you probably don't want to hear about."
The way Derek's eyes dragged all the way down his body and back again at the
mention of sexual positions made him swallow rather hard.
"How about we find out about recovery time while you tell me all about these
sexual positions and then we can worry about the wolf stuff later?" Derek
suggested.
Stiles could get on board with that.
"Well that table," he said and pointed, "it's just begging for claw marks."
~*~
***** Pizza, Pack and Dad *****
Chapter Summary
     Derek and Stiles have had sex, but now they have to deal with what
     comes next.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this took so long - last week was something of a nightmare. My
     husband put his back out and trapped his sciatic nerve and had to be
     ambulanced to hospital so they could check it wasn't anything else
     and it threw the whole week out. Now it is finally done and I can
     finally watch the eps of 3b that I have saved up because I didn't
     want to watch it before I finished this. Hope you all enjoy it.
They had ordered pizza for lunch; four of them, because they were ravenous.
Eating them was entertaining because neither of them really wanted to stop
touching long enough to do so, but they came up with a sequence of short
breaks. Then went back to the sex, but while Stiles had nowhere near exhausted
his ideas for the loft, he had managed to exhaust his sex drive by mid
afternoon. It turned out his recovery time and stamina were now up there with a
werewolf's, but even supernatural creatures had their limits.
There were a lot of things that needed thinking about, but he knew for a fact
it was going to take him time to process before most would make sense. In the
interim, after he came back from taking a shower he sent two texts, one to
Scott:
"Sex is amazing! Talk later. Stiles"
Then one to his dad:
"All good, sorry didn't call, slept for 10 hrs last night. Explain everything
when get home. Love you, Stiles."
Once that was done he focused back on Derek.
"Where's Cora?" he asked, because he had been wondering, he'd just been a
little busy.
Surprisingly Derek smiled at the question.
"Making three grown men cry," Derek told him.
"Now you gotta explain that," he said while trying to get the last of the water
out of his hair.
"We went to stay with a small pack who used to be family friends," Derek said,
puffing the pillows in the bed in a very domestic way; "their alpha, Greta, is
the matriarch like our mom was and she and mom were good friends."
It was the first time Stiles had heard Derek refer to his mother without there
being a huge overlay of grief and he almost held his breath.
"Greta and her husband have three sons, all looking to be the next alpha,"
Derek continued, "but Greta is a stickler for their family traditions, one of
which is the alpha is always mated."
"Oh, I can see where this is going," Stiles said.
"The eldest, Timothy, tried to make a move the third night we were there,"
Derek said and was grinning so Stiles was pretty sure nothing bad happened;
"Cora gutted him."
Stiles made a few mental adjustments for the whole werewolf angle.
"Bet that hurt," he said, "and I bet she just missed his tackle, didn't she?"
"By an inch," Derek replied, "and that's only because she likes him."
Stiles shuddered; Cora was a ruthless young wolf.
"And she's still there?" he asked.
Derek nodded.
"We were sorting through some stuff so we stayed and then when I felt the need
to come back I asked her to think of herself and not follow me," Derek said.
"All three of Greta's sons are courting her and she seems to like the idea and
she's definitely enjoying making them run rings while they vie for her
attention. Cora was always a little wild, even as a baby, so I don't know if
she'll settle, but at least she's having fun."
"Go Cora," Stiles replied and did a little flag wave with the smaller towel.
He was glad she was happy; he had grown to like her, even if she was scary as
hell.
"So, wolf stuff," he said while admiring his mate's ass as Derek leaned over
the bed.
"What about wolf stuff?" Derek asked from where he was tucking clean sheets
onto the bed.
"How do you think I'm supposed to do it?"
"Your eyes glowed white several times since we consummated the bond," Derek
told him, "so I should think all you have to do is want it."
"They did?"
Derek nodded; "white with a blue ring."
"I didn't feel different," he admitted.
"Probably because you've been charged with magic anyway," Derek said. "You'll
figure it out with practice."
He shrugged in return; Derek hadn't been wrong yet. He almost reached for his
jeans, but then stopped. If he was going to do this he might as well do it
right then when he was only in a towel.
"How do you change?" he asked.
"A lot of the time I'm doing my best not to," Derek said, "but when I'm calm
it's just a matter of reaching inside and finding the wolf nature."
Stiles took a few seconds to think that through. His wolf was not natural, it
was magical so he mentally looked at the power nestled at his core. He wasn't
familiar with it yet; he needed to take time to get to know this new aspect of
himself, but he felt around it. There was a wild edge to it.
"Your eyes are glowing," Derek told him.
"Cool, at least that's a start," he said.
He could feel the magic, but it didn't look like it was going to be as easy as
just thinking about it. He brought to mind Derek and Scott and even Isaac when
they went wolfy and it stirred feelings of pack. Scott was his alpha and best
friend, Isaac was a pain in the ass, but he was still a friend and then there
as Derek, his mate. He had never wanted to be a wolf before, he had known deep
down that that wasn't what he was supposed to be, not like them, and yet now he
wanted into their world. This was his path, not theirs, and he wanted the wolf,
he wanted it fiercely.
It was like a flame shooting out from his core. Raging heat seared through his
body and everything it touched melted. It probably should have hurt, it did on
some level, but it was as if that part bypassed his brain. He was aware of his
body shifting and changing, but it was over in the blink of an eye.
For a few seconds Stiles felt totally disorientated and he almost fell over.
His equilibrium was completely gone and he shook his head to try and get it
back. Considering that his head was in an entirely different configuration with
his body that didn't overly help and he sat down with a thump. That was when it
finally dawned on his scattered brain that he had four legs.
"Wow," Derek said, looking at him with a reverent expression.
Stiles twisted his neck to get a look at himself and he almost panicked for a
couple of seconds. He had fur, lots of white, fluffy fur; he was a wolf.
"Hey," Derek said, kneeling down in front of him quickly and placing hands
either side of his head, "it's okay, you're okay, concentrate on me."
For once doing as he was told was easy and Stiles looked into Derek's face as
his mate smiled at him.
"You did it," Derek said; "you really did it."
Derek's fingers in his fur were very distracting, especially where they were
touching the undersides of his ears. The fact he could smell Derek very clearly
and something associated that smell very distinctly with sex and warmth and
safety didn't help him focus much either. It was a bit of a struggle. The wolf
instincts were also closer to the surface and he finally had an idea of why
Scott had been so out of control for a while.
"Now you," was what he tried to say, forgetting that he had no human mouth and
what came out was a whine.
He wanted to see how his wolf would react to Derek's werewolf form.
Derek frowned at him.
"You want me to change?" Derek asked, as if not sure of what he was saying.
Stiles blinked and nodded.
"I'm not sure how I knew that," Derek admitted and Stiles just gave a wolfy
shrug; they could figure out that later.
This seemed far more important at the moment.
"Okay," Derek said with a laugh as Stiles nudge him with his nose.
Watching Derek's features change was nothing new, feeling something in the air
shift as well was.
"Better?" Derek asked as Stiles stared.
Stiles whined, deliberately this time because there was something else, he
could feel it. He nudged Derek again and pushed with more than just his body.
Derek gasped, his bright blue eyes flashing white and Derek began to change.
Man became beast before Stiles eyes and there was the distinctive sound of
ripping material as Derek burst out of his clothes.
The overall effect of a big black wolf would have been more intimidating if
that wolf hadn't looked non-plussed and been wearing the remains of jeans and a
t-shirt.
Stiles shifted back without even thinking about it and threw his arms around
Derek's wolfy neck.
"OMG, you're a wolf too and you're huge," he said, because he just needed to
get the words out.
Derek melted back to human in his arms, but barely moved.
"I've never done that before," Derek said, sounding stunned.
Stiles realised he probably should have been in a similar state, but his brain
had never reacted the same way as everybody else and he was so excited. Derek's
clothes were wrecked, which was all kinds of hot, but as Stiles pulled back he
tried very hard to keep his eyes on his mate's face.
"I'm not an alpha," Derek said as if he was still trying to get his head round
the whole thing; "I couldn't do that even when I was."
"Deaton said you'd get a power boost too," Stiles said, "and it totally
wouldn't be fair if I was a wolf and you weren't. You still have the wolfy form
though too for which I'm glad, because, wow, you're hot as a werewolf."
Derek looked kind of surprised by that.
"You think I'm hot when I'm wolfed out?" Derek asked.
"Derek, you're hot all the time," he replied, "and the whole eye thing and your
cute pointy teeth..."
"My teeth are not cute," Derek snapped almost instantly and shifted, baring his
fangs to prove it.
Which, of course, made Stiles laugh, because he had known that was exactly how
Derek would react. From near disaster only days before to being happier than he
remembered since his mom died, Stiles just had to let the delight out.
"God you're amazing," he said and kissed his mate before Derek could even shift
back.
He felt hair retreat and fangs disappeared under his lips and then Derek was
kissing him for real. For a little while he forgot they weren't still in the
middle of their sex marathon.
"Come on," Derek said when they finally pulled back; "you can help me find some
new clothes and put some on yourself before I start getting ideas."
"I don't mind if you have ideas," he replied and grinned.
"Don't temp me," Derek said; "you are still human even if you've got the wild
in you."
Stiles opened his mouth because there were just so many possibilities with that
statement, but Derek kissed him again to shut him up.
"Clothes," Derek said and then pulled away and stood up.
As Derek helped him to his feet, Stiles had to admit he was aware that he had
muscles in places that were unused to certain activities, so Derek was probably
right. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy Derek undressing again and redressing;
it was a fantastic view.
~*~
Stiles lasted a good twenty minutes and managed to drink a whole cup of coffee
before he started to rethink his stance on the ending of the sex. He'd even
texted Scott again with a slightly longer message, but Derek had most of his
attention. He just wanted to touch and then touch some more and he kept losing
track of the random conversation they were having.
"Stiles, are you alright?" Derek asked and Stiles realised he had done it
again.
"Just wondering how you'd taste if I licked up your neck," he replied, because
there was absolutely no point in lying.
"You found out," Derek said, "several times."
"I know, but every experiment needs repeating a lot to get a decent sample
set."
The way Derek laughed at that made Stiles want to kiss him all the more.
"I thought you were tired?"
"I was," he admitted, "but I'm definitely changing that stance. Can I ... um
..."
There was really no reason to be awkward after all the things they had done,
but the heat of passion was gone, so Stiles wasn't quite sure how to approach
everything.
"You can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want," Derek replied with the
ghost of a smile.
That was one of the hottest things Stiles had ever heard and he headed towards
the couch from where he had been wandering around. He had plans, lots of plans.

"No!" he heard from the door just as he settled over Derek's lap facing his
mate.
Lydia walked in looking somewhat dishevelled. Alarm bells went off in Stiles
head because a, Derek alarm system was clearly still broken and b, Lydia never
looked less than pristine unless something supernatural and usually bad was
going on.
"What happened?" was his immediate question.
When Lydia was followed through the door by Scott, Alison and Isaac, also all
looking less than perfectly attired, he was even more worried.
"You happened," Isaac said with his usual directness.
Stiles looked at Derek and frowned; no one sounded particularly worried, so he
wasn't sure what was going on.
"You're going to have to be more specific," he said.
"Sex," Lydia said pointedly; "you two are broadcasting sex."
"And ... oh," he realised why people might be looking a bit dishevelled; "so
you guys have..."
"Been encouraged to bang like bunnies," Lydia finished before he could come up
with an equally colourful simile. "Aiden and Ethan are downstairs with Danny
and we're going to have to figure out what to tell him because at the moment he
figures drugs, but he has a brain so that won't last long."
Stiles had been wondering about Danny since the twins had formally changed
allegiances, but at that moment his brain found a puzzle that was far more
interesting. He couldn't help it, sometimes his attention simply went off on a
tangent and looking at his friends there was an anomaly.
"Right, Danny," he said in a vague tone as the other idea coalesced in his
brain, "but not what I want to talk about right now. Danny and Ethan, Lydia and
Aiden, Alison and Isaac, but Scotty, you don't look like you've been all by
yourself."
Scott's hair was in all directions and said 'someone has been running their
fingers through me' about as directly as a neon sign.
"Stiles, focus," Lydia said, "not the issue."
But the way Scott looked guiltily at Alison and Isaac spoke far louder than
words. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
"Oh, oops," Stiles said and he couldn't help it, the first bark of a laugh
escaped him.
He probably should have been apologising or worrying about the after effects,
but he'd just spent a week almost dying and then at the mercy of his hormones
and the fact his friends had been at the mercy of the same hormones just struck
him as funny. He was full body laughing in seconds and all he could do was bury
his face in Derek shoulder to keep the noise down.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, but..." was as far as he got when he tried to get control
of himself, but the looks on his friends' faces were just too priceless and he
dissolved again.
"This isn't funny," Lydia snapped at him, "I had an appointment at the salon
this morning, my nails are a mess."
That was the wrong thing to say, because Stiles collapsed even further. Part of
that might have been hysterical terror at the wrath of Lydia, but a good
percentage of it was mirth. Apparently Scott found that a little bit funny too,
because Stiles distinctly heard a very rapidly muffled laugh.
"Stiles I won't kill because he nearly died this week," Lydia said in a very
direct tone, "but you, McCall, I will have no hesitation in disembowelling."
That just made Stiles laugh harder. He might have been worried it was real
hysteria if not for Derek's solid presence.
"You okay?" Derek asked very quietly, but it was likely every werewolf in the
room heard it anyway.
He nodded into his mate's shoulder and did his very best to stop laughing. It
took a hell of a lot of effort and a few false stops and starts. Eventually,
however, he did manage it and he sat back and twisted so he could look at his
friends.
"Sorry," he said, but that was the best he could do without laughing again.
"Right, now that Mr Inappropriate has himself under control," Lydia said,
fixing him with a glare and he had to bite his tongue really hard, "what are we
going to do?"
"Order more pizza and explain everything to Danny," Derek said in a
surprisingly calm tone.
"Ethan will want to be there for that," Alison pointed out.
"Invite them up," Derek replied and Stiles felt the hand on his back flex a
little, but otherwise Derek showed no other emotion.
"Are you sure?" that was from Scott, proving that their alpha was in fact
sensitive to those around him.
"They're pack," Derek said as if that explained everything.
"But they..."
"They're pack," Derek replied bluntly; "they are welcome here on pack
business."
Stiles was all too aware there were issues and those issues were bound to come
up in the future, but he could see what Derek was doing. Everything had changed
and the twins had a lot to make up for, but there were more important things to
worry about. Lydia didn't argue and simply slipped her phone out of her pocket.
Stiles heard her explaining things to Aiden, but he was more focused on Derek
at the moment.
"You sure you're okay with this?" Stiles asked quietly as the others came into
the main part of the room.
"Yes," Derek replied, but the openness from earlier was subdued. "Among wolves
we blame the alpha; it was all on Deucalion's head. I might not ever like them,
but they're pack."
Having finally experienced some of the pack instincts Stiles found he could
accept that. Since their makeout session had been interrupted he reluctantly
climbed off Derek's lap and stood up, waiting for their visitors.
It wasn't long before the twins and Danny appeared at the door.
"You okay with this?" Scott asked Ethan as the three came in.
Ethan just nodded, sticking close to Danny. The twins were both watching Derek
warily, which was amusing on one level and painful on another, so Stiles
mirrored Ethan by remaining close to his other half too. Derek for his part
hadn't even stood up, which was clearly an indicator of peace if ever Stiles
had seen one.
"Hey, Danny," he said, giving their friend a small wave, "bet you're really
confused right now."
"You could say that," Danny replied, "but I guess I'm about to find out the
real reason that everything has been crazy this year?"
"That's the plan," Lydia said, crossing to Aiden, "but you might want to sit
down."
"What, next to cousin Miguel, or should I say, Derek Hale?" Danny asked.
"So glad you're more observant than you pretended," Stiles decided. "This is
Derek's place, in case you were wondering."
"Animal attacks, two serial killers and all my friends being uber weird," Danny
replied; "it was easier to pretend not to see it."
"Yeah," Alison agreed; "it was a lot easier when it didn't all make sense."
Stiles could see their point, but he'd never really been someone who preferred
ignorance, not since his parents had tried to keep from him just how sick his
mom was. He liked to be in the know.
Danny walked to the other end of the couch with Ethan shadowing him and
actually took the offered seat.
"Right, who wants to do this?" Stiles asked.
"You seem to be covering it," Lydia replied and there were several other nods.
He did have the sense to look at Ethan, but the alpha just twitched at him,
which he took as a 'go ahead'.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Just tell me," Danny replied.
"Werewolves," Stiles went with the shortest, most succinct explanation, which
was unusual for him.
He watched the disbelief travel over Danny's face and then came the
thoughtfulness which he knew was at the centre of Danny's character.
"This isn't a joke?" Danny checked.
Stiles shook his head then pointed at Derek.
"Werewolf," he said, then moved on to Isaac, "werewolf," Aiden, "werewolf,"
Ethan, "werewolf," Scott, "and our very own True Alpha werewolf. Also Jackson,
but he ran off to London so I can't point at him. Lydia, apart from being a
genius and the fashion goddess of this town is a Banshee, Alison's all human
but could probably kill you with her pinky finger and me, well, that's kind of
complicated, but I'm human too with a huge helping of magic. That's new, in
case you were wondering."
"Why you collapsed?" Danny asked.
"Give the man a cigar," he replied; he had always like how perceptive Danny
could be when actually given the facts. "Also you being pinned to every
available surface by your boyfriend, or you pinning him, not calling that, is
mostly my fault, sorry."
"Our fault," Derek added quietly.
"Your fault how?" Danny wanted to know.
"It's kind of long and complicated," Stiles replied, "but it all comes down to
me and Derek having lots of really awesome sex and broadcasting it to the rest
of the pack. No, we have no idea how, but there was this moment where I guess
we connected and somehow we, probably my fault, never let go. Really don't get
this magic stuff yet, but nothing exploded, so, win."
"You and Derek?" Danny asked and sounded somewhat incredulous.
"Werewolves you take calmly, but me and Derek you don't believe," he said; "I
think I'm insulted, actually, no, I know I'm insulted."
"It's not that," Danny said before he could go off on one, "I just would have
sworn you were straight."
That mollified him a little.
"He was just too focused on me to give off the right signals," Lydia said as if
that was perfectly normal behaviour; "even I hadn't figured it out, so don't
worry, your gaydar is working fine."
"But you are taking all of this really calmly, are you sure you're okay?" Scott
asked.
Stiles might not have let the whole incredulity part drop so easily, but Derek
chose that moment to tug on his arm and pull him down. He ended up in Derek's
lap and found himself relaxing even as he watched Danny watching him and Derek.
"Still processing," Danny replied and looked over at Ethan who was clearly
nervous. "This so explains why you growl in your sleep."
"They all do that," Alison and Lydia said at the same time, "usually near the
full moon," Lydia added.
Stiles found he was a little jealous that he had yet to find this out. All the
werewolves looked a little embarrassed, but no one denied it.
"I'll order pizza," Derek offered to give Danny a little breathing space and
Stiles leaned over to pick up the mobile that was on the small table, handing
it to his mate.
"Okay," Scott said once the pizza orders were in and Danny and Ethan had moved
off to the stairs to talk quietly, "does anyone have any idea what happened
today, because, no offence guys, but I really don't want to be that out of
control every time you two have sex."
"There was a connection when we sealed the bond," Derek said in a very matter
of fact tone. "It was a sense of the pack like an alpha has, only stronger, but
it felt like it was transitory."
"Yeah," Stiles agreed; "I had no idea we were broadcasting. No idea how that
could work."
He was getting used to the feel of magic at the back of his mind, but he was
sure he hadn't felt anything specific going on while he and Derek were having
sex.
"Of course I was really distracted, so anything could have been happening," he
admitted. "I mean really, really distracted; you have no idea..."
"Stiles," Lydia said before he could wax lyrical about the joys of sex with
Derek.
"Sex is awesome, just sayin'," he said because he couldn't resist.
"I've heard of white wolves," Derek offered, "but I've never heard of something
like this. The stories I know are mostly from when I was a kid, so they would
have been sanitised, Peter might know more."
"Could we start with Deaton rather than Creeperwolf?" Stiles suggested,
because, no matter what, Peter still put him on edge. "At least we know Deaton
will tell us the truth even if he only tells us half of it."
"Stiles has a point," Alison agreed.
Everyone else seemed to agree, or at least, before there were any objections
Lydia had her phone out and Deaton was answering them on speaker.
"Well that is very interesting," Deaton said once Lydia had explained
everything in a far more detached and practical way than Stiles was sure any of
the rest of them would have been able to manage. "I have heard of close
connections between white wolves and their packs, but they are usually brought
about by very rare circumstances. I would hazard a guess that this situation
was caused by the creation and settling of the bond between Stiles and Derek.
If I were you I would not worry about it unless it happens again."
"Great," Stiles said with a huge smile, "change of plans, everyone out, Derek
and I are having sex again."
Derek rolled his eyes at that and everyone else ignored him, so everything was
back to normal.
"Is there anything we should be careful of?" Derek asked.
"That would depend," Deaton replied; "Stiles, how are you feeling?"
"Awesome," he said; "I can turn into a wolf; it is so cool."
Possibly he was devolving into a twelve year old, but he hadn't had his
medication and magic really was great.
"You've already done that?" Deaton asked and the surprise was obvious in the
man's voice.
"Um, yeah," he replied, "why, shouldn't I have?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Deaton replied, "I am just surprised at such rapid
progress, although, perhaps I should have learned by now never to underestimate
any of you. Don't over exert yourself; it will take time for the magic to
settle, other than that, congratulations."
"You can really turn into a wolf?" Scott asked, sounding intrigued.
"Totally," Stiles said and nodded; "a big white one. Well at least I thought I
was big until Derek changed too; boy is he huge."
After it had popped out of his mouth it occurred to him that Derek might not
want everyone to know that yet. However, as everyone looked at Derek, Stiles
realised his mate didn't seem overly bothered by it.
"Does Stiles mean you turn into a full wolf too?" Scott asked and Derek nodded.
"I thought that was an alpha thing?"
"So did I," Derek replied.
"Maybe it's a genetic thing," Stiles suggested; "I mean Derek's mom and his
sister could do it, so maybe it's a recessive trait just waiting for a power
boost and because of all the shit going on at the time Derek never got enough
when he became an alpha."
He hadn't actually realised he'd been working on a theory as to why Derek could
now attain a full wolf form, but apparently, he had.
"That would make sense," Lydia said and he might have preened a little as their
resident genius agreed with him; "it would explain why not all alphas have the
ability. If different werewolves have different genetic prerogatives, but some
of them require different levels of power, it would explain why different
alphas end up with different abilities."
"There are others who have proposed similar theories," Deaton agreed and Stiles
remembered they had the man on the call. "Of course no one has done extensive
research on that aspect of werewolf nature."
"Nope werewolf research mostly seems to be on how to kill or contain them,"
Stiles commented, "no offense Alison."
"None taken," Alison replied, "it's true."
"Someone should really fix that," Lydia commented and Stiles was graced with a
vision of Lydia gaining a PhD in werewolf studies.
He wasn't sure if it was funny or frightening.
"And there is nothing else?" Derek checked, ever paranoid it seemed, even now.
"Nothing immediate," Deaton replied. "I would suggest you all take time to rest
and recover, especially Stiles, but this will have affected the whole pack."
"Thanks, Doc," Scott said.
"Not at all," Deaton replied, "goodbye."
Everyone said some form of farewell and Lydia ended the call. With that out of
the way Stiles found his focus returning to Derek.
"Stiles," Lydia interrupted him before he could do anything inappropriate, "you
can help me make coffee for everyone."
That translated as 'you can make coffee I will supervise' and Stiles would have
objected if it had been anyone else, but it was Lydia and no one said no to
Lydia. The fact that it would probably keep him out of trouble was also quite
clear in his head.
"Back soon," he said and pecked Derek on the lips.
~*~
Pizza had arrived and mostly been consumed by the time Stiles had a chance to
talk to Scott alone. Scott very unsubtly dragged him outside to throw some of
the used pizza boxes in the trash and he went willingly.
"You're really okay?" Scott asked him quietly even though they were far enough
away that even werewolf ears probably couldn't hear them.
It was just like Scott to still be worried.
"Yeah," he replied, "I really am. This is nothing I ever imagined, but, sue me,
I like it."
At that there was the barest hint of a smile on his friend's face.
"It kind of rush having powers isn't it," Scott said.
"Hell yes," he replied and grinned.
"You always did want to be a superhero," Scott teased.
"Hey, I was," he protested, "but before I was Batman and now I'm Doctor
Strange."
Scott almost rolled his eyes, but there was no way Stiles was ever giving up
the pop-culture references.
"And you weren't kidding when you told me sex was awesome," he added; "I have
never been so strung out in my life. Man, it was epic."
Normally Scott would either have agreed with him or asked him bluntly to shut
up, but instead he saw Scott grimace. Then he remembered why.
"Um, yeah, so sorry for laughing before," he apologised, "but it was that or
have an epic freak out."
"It's okay," Scott told him, something wistful in his expression.
"So, I'm okay," Stiles said, "but are you? You've got that look in your eye
again, like the summer."
The fact Scott didn't just say yes set off alarm bells in Stiles' head.
"Talk to me, man," he encouraged.
"Not here," Scott replied; "werewolf ears."
That had to be just an excuse, but Stiles knew all about needing time to
process.
"But later?" he pushed, because he could see Scott needed to tell him something
even if it wasn't right then.
Scott nodded and he reached out and placed a hand on Scott's arm in support.
"Us against the world," he said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.
That actually drew a small smile out of Scott and a nod.
"Us against the world," Scott affirmed and it was settled.
~*~
The pack was mellow for a couple of hours lounging around Derek's loft, talking
and simply bonding. There was a lot of touching going on, just small, innocent
brushed between members, but it spoke volumes. Things had shifted, that much
was obvious, and Stiles could tell it was going to take a while to get used to
it. However, there was someone else who needed an explanation, which was why he
and Derek left everyone else to clear up and headed out very late afternoon.
"Ready for this?" Stiles asked, looking at Derek before he opened the door of
the SUV.
"As I'll ever be," Derek replied, but gave him a tiny smile, which for Derek
was huge.
He had texted his dad to tell him they were coming over and Stiles could only
pray his father was not polishing his gun.
"Hey, Dad," he said as soon as he entered the house and found his father
standing in the hallway, "can we agree on one rule, no shooting Derek."
His dad was not in uniform, but his gun was casually sitting on the side table.
The gun was never left lying around unless his dad was trying to make a point.
"Why, has he done something that deserves a bullet?" his dad said.
"Nope," Stiles said very quickly, but made sure he was between his dad and
Derek anyway.
After all his dad was well aware that a normal bullet wouldn't kill Derek and
Stiles was pretty sure his dad wouldn't have loaded with wolfsbane bullets even
though Chris had given him some, but his dad did seem to be stuck on the fact
he was only just about to turn seventeen.
"Can we, like, move into the living room?" he asked hopefully.
His dad was still stony faced, but turned and walked towards the chairs.
"None of this is Derek's fault, Dad, no matter what you're thinking, it's
mine," Stiles decided to jump in with both feet.
"You're a sixteen year old boy," his father replied.
"No, no, Dad, I'm not," he said before his dad could go on. "Firstly I'm
seventeen in a couple of days and secondly I haven't been a boy in a while, not
since people started showing up dead all over town and I ended up in the middle
of it. If that isn't enough for you, I'm a white wolf, Dad. Look at me."
He let the magic inside him out to play a little and he knew his eyes would be
glowing.
"Derek helped me when no one else could," he went on.
There was a lot more he could say, in fact there were words backing up in his
brain, but he held on to them. If he started rambling his dad would stop
listening and that was the last thing he wanted.
"And you," his dad said, looking to where Derek was standing at Stiles'
shoulder, "what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Stiles is my mate, Sir," Derek said in his usual stoic tone; "wolves mate for
life."
From the expression on his dad's face, Stiles wasn't sure if that had been the
right or the wrong thing to say.
"Why Stiles?" his dad asked.
"Thanks," he said, feeling just a little insulted.
"This isn't about you, kid," his dad told him; "you're six..." he glared,
"seventeen," his dad corrected, "and Derek is a lot older than you. No matter
what you think the age gap creates issues. I don't care what you are, I will
not have you in a relationship with an older man where you won't be happy."
"I find his annoying habit of talking all the time endearing," Derek surprised
him by speaking up, "The way he can focus on a subject and run with it until he
knows everything there is to know is amazing. He sees things in a way no one
else can and shares his insights like they're nothing special. He's so brave
it's frightening. He's loyal to his friends and takes no shit from anyone who
crosses him. He's independent, caring and has a pathological need to fix
things. He's been trying to fix me almost since the day I met him when he
didn't even like me and I think he might actually have succeeded."
Stiles stood there with his mouth open; he had never expected Derek to say
anything like that.
"You really are in love with my son," his dad said.
"Yes, Sir, I am," Derek replied, "and I have been since the day he trod water
for hours holding me up in a swimming pool while I was paralysed from the neck
down."
"Really?" Stiles asked, somewhat astonished.
Derek nodded at him. When he looked back at his dad some of the tension had
gone out of the Sheriff's stance. He was amazed; it actually seemed to be
working. He was amazed for other reasons too, but if he thought about those he
wasn't sure he could be coherent, so he put them to the back of his mind.
"And you, Stiles?" his dad asked.
"Had a thing for Derek for a while, was just too Lydia-centric to notice," he
replied perfectly honestly, "and if I start telling you why we'll both be
embarrassed and I might never stop talking."
His thoughts were going in too many directions and he knew he would start
rambling if given the chance; either that or have a panic attack, which so
didn't sound like fun.
"You're sure?" his dad asked.
"Yes, Dad, I'm sure," he replied. "It's like," he had to pause to force his
brain to stay on topic; "it's like I found the secret level and all the
treasure is mine."
It was a horrible analogy, but it was the best he could do.
When his dad stepped towards him still stony faced he wasn't sure what to do.
He was too on edge to read any of the subtle signals his dad had to be giving
off, so he just stood there. When his dad grabbed him and pulled him in for a
hug he actually sagged in relief.
"I just need to make sure you're happy," his dad said into his shoulder and
relief so intense flooded through Stiles that he thought his legs might give
out.
That was probably why it took him a second of so to realise that he felt kind
of achy, especially in his right shoulder area. It was so sudden that it
confused him. It affected his magic too, because he felt that rise again and it
was as if a wave of gentle heat passed through him and into his dad. It made
him feel floaty and light.
"What the hell?" he heard Derek say and he snapped back to reality.
He stepped back from his dad, looking for whatever Derek was talking about.
That was when he realised that both his dad and Derek were looking at him.
"Um, what?" he asked.
"You glowed," Derek said.
"I did?" he asked and looked down at himself; he had no idea what had just
happened.
Glowing was definitely not a normal reaction. That was when his dad reached out
towards him in a comforting gesture and stopped half way.
"What?" he asked, checking, but he couldn't see any more glowing.
"My shoulder," his dad said, lifting the outstretched arm further and then
swinging it backwards; "it doesn't hurt anymore."
Ever since Miss Blake has stabbed his dad, Stiles knew the wound, although not
serious, had been giving his father trouble. The fact his own shoulder was
hurting immediately set off a siren in his head and he grabbed the neck of his
shirt, pulling it aside before he thought about it. There, where nothing should
have been, was a pink scar and as he watched it faded.
"Oh shit," he said as he kind of panicked.
His dad caught on and did the same with his own shirt and there was nothing
there, no wound, not even a trace of the old injury. Stiles scrabbled to pull
his phone out of his pocket and hit Deaton's number. It probably said a lot
that he had the man on speed dial.
"Stiles," Deaton said as soon as he picked up, "how can I help you?"
"I healed my dad," he said in a rush because this was just that one step too
far. "I hugged him and I glowed and it hurt and the scar moved to me and then
it was gone and I don't know how I did it. It just happened and it wasn't like
turning into a wolf where I had to think about it, I didn't even know I was
doing it. Why did I do that? How did I do that? You never said this would
happen. I don't understand."
Arms came round him from behind.
"Breathe," Derek said, pulling him close, "just breathe."
As Derek held him, he took a huge gasping breath and realised he had been
headed for a panic attack. He had managed to cope with everything else,
compartmentalising what he still needed to process, but this had finally
smashed his control.
"Stiles, there is nothing to worry about," Deaton spoke to him over the phone
in his usual calm tones, "it is called sympathetic healing and it is a rare and
valuable gift. Magic users often have some part of their power that comes to
them instinctively, this is yours."
He took another deep breath.
"But I thought that was the wolf stuff?" he replied and glanced over at his dad
who looked like he wanted to reach out too, but didn't want to cause any more
problems.
"That is the essence of the power you have been given," Deaton told him, "the
healing is the essence of you."
Stiles didn't really know what to say to that.
"You can look on it as a higher level of what the wolves can do," Deaton
explained. "They can remove pain and in extreme circumstances an alpha can
sacrifice their power to heal a beta as Derek did, but you can heal directly.
With practice you should be able to control the ability to a very fine degree."
"But what use is healing?" he asked, mostly because it was the first thing that
came into his head. "I run with wolves and they heal themselves."
"There are some things not even a wolf can heal from," Deaton replied and
Stiles went cold.
He flashed back to the dream and the shadows that were coming.
"Stiles," Deaton said, "the white wolf chose you, whatever is coming you will
help the pack be ready for it. Do not doubt that."
Really he wasn't sure what he had expected, something to do with mountain ash
and baseball bats probably, but not this. It was making him rethink and he
wasn't good at that when he had focused on a course of action. Only Derek's
firm presence behind him kept him grounded.
"Thanks," he told Deaton, "sorry to have bothered you."
"It's no bother, Stiles," Deaton told him. "I am here when you need me. When
you are ready come and see me and we will talk about teaching you all you need
to know."
"Yeah, okay," he said. "Bye."
He hung up and leaned into Derek.
"Sorry," he apologised to his mate and his father; "I wasn't expecting that."
"What did Alan say?" his dad asked and reminded him that humans didn't have
ears as sharp as werewolves.
"How about we have some coffee and I'll explain it all?" he suggested.
~*~
"Dad," Stiles said as he wandered into the kitchen, "can Derek stay tonight?"
The look his father gave him was priceless. They had spent well into the
evening talking and his dad hadn't kicked Derek out yet, but it was getting
late now. His dad clearly wasn't comfortable with the whole mate thing yet, but
Stiles had hope.
"Not like that," he protested; "I am well aware there is pushing you and then
pushing you too far; I meant in the spare room. I get you have a problem with
us being together, together, but Deaton says it will take the magic a while to
settle and I don't know what might happen if Derek is too far away."
His dad looked dubious.
"You felt the whole healing thing," he said, "that's not exactly me, that's
instinct and until I get the hang of it Derek is the only person that can keep
me focused."
"He has a home of his own," his dad pointed out.
"Nope, he has a loft apartment that really needs some TLC," he replied, "I'm
not sure Derek's had a home since his family burned to death in his."
That earned him a very thoughtful silence.
"You'll need to make up the bed," his dad said eventually, "and you will sleep
in your room. There will be no naked togetherness in this house, am I
understood?"
"Yes, Dad," he said and threw his arms around his father, "thank you. I
promise, no naked togetherness."
He went to bounce out of the room.
"But some kissing is okay, right?" he asked. "Because that might be a
fundamental need."
He left before his dad could reply, but he did hear the groan.
~*~
So he had spent ten minutes with Derek at the entrance to the spare room until
his dad had made very unsubtle noises from the other side of the corridor, but
he was a teenager and he couldn't help it. He wanted to touch Derek whenever
and wherever he could and that's all there was to it. Trying to fall asleep in
his own bed was hard. It was as if he was missing something and he tossed and
turned for at least an hour before sleep finally took him.
When Stiles opened his eyes on the white place he almost panicked before he
realised something felt different. He was on the dais, but, when he looked
down, this time he was not with a wolf, he was the wolf. That made everything
different and he felt his body tingling with energy rather than being drained.
There was a musky scent on the air and he swivelled his head to catch it
better, at which point he saw the big black wolf standing looking back at him
on the other side of the dark barrier around his little island. He wasn't sure
how he had ever not known it was Derek. Everything about the magnificent
creature screamed the truth at Stiles. Without questioning the instinct, he
trotted towards where Derek was standing, only stopping when he came to the
inky moat.
There was no way across and he wasn't sure what to do. They stood there looking
at each other and all Stiles wanted to do was reach the blue eyed wolf. It was
almost a physical ache as he realised he couldn't.
Derek stared at him steadily for what seemed like an age and then put his head
back and howled.
It was a mournful, but, oh so powerful sound and it ripped right to Stiles'
core. He had no choice but to follow his instincts and throw his head back and
join the chorus. Their wolf voices joined in a wild harmony that soared through
the empty space.
As he called out for his mate, Stiles felt the magic moving through his bones.
It built and built, moment by moment, called by the song and he had no choice
but to let it explode. White light, even brighter than the place he was in,
shot out of his body, bringing his howl to a stuttering stop. It lanced at the
darkness surrounding his dais and the area echoed with an almighty crack and a
sound almost like shattering glass.
When his vision cleared, the first thing Stiles saw was that the darkness was
not gone, but as he looked he realised it was riddled with large white
fissures. Acting on pure need he touched a paw to the crack just in front of
him and it was solid under his pads. The bottomless darkness was breeched and
he didn't even stop to think about it, he bounded forward, using the white
cracks as a path to the other side.
Derek was waiting for him, only he was moving so fast he couldn't stop and he
barrelled into his mate making what should probably have been embarrassingly
excited and needy noised. He buried his muzzle in Derek's fur in as close to a
hug as a wolf could get and they lay on the floor in a tangled heap. They were
together; they could do anything.
"What the hell is going on?"
Stiles shot upright, or at least he tried to, but there were muscular arms
holding him and he only got about half way.
"What?" was the best his sleepy mind could do as he half collapsed back to the
bed.
"Stiles, I trusted you," his dad said and it finally made it into Stiles' brain
that he was not in his own room, he was in the spare room and the arms holding
him belonged to Derek.
Now he was really confused.
"Stiles, I want to see you downstairs and you," his dad pointed at Derek
accusingly, "get out of my house right now."
"Dad, wait," Stiles said as the reality of the situation finally resolved in
his brain, "it's not what ..."
"Not what, Stiles?" his dad interrupted him, clearly very angry. "You asked if
he could stay and you knew the rules. You betrayed my trust."
"No, Dad," he protested, but his father looked angry enough to start waving his
gun around.
"Sir, I promise," Derek backed him up, "I went to sleep alone."
"So you're blaming this on Stiles?"
"No, Dad, that's not what Derek is saying," Stiles raised his voice, "he's
trying to tell you we don't know how we ended up together. We were both
asleep..."
"Sleepwalking? Don't tell me you're going to go with something like
sleepwalking."
It sounded weak even to Stiles, but it actually made sense.
"I was dreaming," he said as where he had been came back to him; "the white
place," he turned to Derek, "we were in the white place."
Derek nodded.
"We broke the darkness," Derek said.
When Stiles looked back at his dad he realised worry and confusion were now
warring with the anger. He knew for a fact it wouldn't last though, not unless
he could explain.
"Dad," he said, "please, this wasn't deliberate. I went to bed in my own room,
I swear and I don't know how I got here. I think ... I think it might have been
the final part of what we needed to do. I woke up in the white place, only it
wasn't like before; I was the wolf this time and I had power. Derek was there,
but he was on the other side of the darkness; the darkness around my heart.
There it's like a moat, a really deep, endless moat that I couldn't get across,
but we broke it. Together we shattered it and then I heard you yelling and
that's all I know. I don't know if I walked here or if something really weird
happened and I just appeared here, but we did not break the rules
deliberately."
For a few seconds he thought his confession might have fallen on deaf ears, but
then he realised that some of the tension was leaving his dad's stance.
"Anything to add?" his dad asked, looking directly at Derek.
"No, Sir," Derek replied; "I'm very sorry for breaking your rules, but, as
Stiles said, it wasn't deliberate."
His dad just stood there for a little while longer and then finally began to
turn away.
"It's a school day," his dad said; "breakfast in twenty minutes, I expect you
both to be there."
Stiles actually slumped in relief.
"I could really have lived without waking up like that," he said as the
adrenaline began to wear off.
"Yes," Derek replied pulling him close for a second. "We had better move if we
want to make the deadline."
He had to agree, but he really didn't want to move.
His relationship with Derek was complicated, because of the age gap and his
dad's worry; his magic was somewhat incomprehensible to him; he still needed to
talk to Scott about what had happened during the broadcast sex and now the
darkness as well; their little pack had several very broken pieces that were
going to take a long time to fix; there were things on the way that would
endanger them all.
It was a long list of things that needed addressing, but as Stiles headed to
the shower he had to admit he was happy.
Firstly there was Derek. While Derek seemed to find it straightforward to
profess love, he didn't, but he was almost sure that was the inexperience of
youth rather than anything else. He needed time to process how their
relationship had shifted and what the warm, fluttery feeling in his chest
actually meant. However, that didn't stop him being happy. And, of course, the
sex was epic.
Then there was everything else. He was closer to the supernatural than he ever
would have dreamed. Before he had been the weak and squishy human and he didn't
have all the strength of the wolves or their fighting ability, but he had
something else. The pack needed him and he needed the pack; it was the
beginning of a new era for Beacon Hills and they were all part of it. He liked
being part of the powerful whole and doubts be damned; he stepped into the
shower with a smile on his face.
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