Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/937495.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Stiles_Stilinski/Isaac_Lahey, Derek_Hale_&_Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Isaac_Lahey, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Non-consensual_punishment, Whipping, Spanking, Underage_Character,
      underaged_drinking, Discipline, Underaged_clubbing, Mention_of_Past
      Abuse, Peter_is_amazing_and_badass_and_wonderful_and_I_love_him_okay,
      Pack_Dynamics, Pack_Feels
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-22 Updated: 2014-03-11 Chapters: 6/? Words: 15911
****** Flirting with Danger ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Started as a kink fill, evolved to a longfic filled with pack feels.
     In which Derek tries to be a good Alpha for everyone, Isaac tries to
     find his place in the world and Stiles is the brattiest brat to ever
     brat. Also Isaac and Stiles may or may not be involved, and Peter and
     Derek may or may not be jealous.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
The music was almost too loud, thumping in his ears and vibrating through his
chest. Stiles closed his eyes as he took another sip from his drink - something
bright blue and most likely more alcoholic than he was legally allowed to have
- and let the heat of the room wash over him. The room of the Akonite was
filled to the brim with people, the crowd moving their bodies as one to the
beat. When he opened his eyes again, he tried to catch sight of Isaac. Stiles
had parted ways with him a while ago, but he could sometimes see the curls
appear in the crowd, every time with another partner next to him. He hoped
Isaac would find a nice girl - or guy - to spend the rest of his evening with,
but he wished even harder that he would find someone himself. The guy who had
treated him the drink had been nice, but with the dark brown eyes and shaggy
hair reminded him a tad too much of Scott to be really comfortable.
The alcohol was finding its way to his head, Stiles realised, when everything
started to move just a bit slower than usual. He grinned, finishing off the
drink and putting the empty glass on the counter, before moving away from the
bar, into the mass of people. The bodies moving against his would’ve been an
invasion of his personal space at any other moment, but tonight, it felt just
right. He made his way towards the middle of the room, mimicking the dance
moves of some guys that he passed, and if he swayed his hips with a bit more
enthousiasm than necessary, then sue him. He closed his eyes and let the music
consume his body and his mind, banning out every last thought of the previous
couple of disastrous days.
He opened his eyes again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Isaac was
standing in front of him, sweat dripping from his curls, his usual scarf and
jacket discarded in favour of showing off the too-tight shirt that really did
emphasize his werewolfy muscles very well. At least in Stiles’ humble opinion.
It was still slightly frustrating that everyone around him was drop-dead-
gorgeous, but he had gotten used to it most of the time, and it gave him
something to look at when he was bored. Or when he had a couple of drinks,
apparently, because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way the shirt clung
to Isaac’s stomach. At least until Isaac leant closer to him, which made his
attention turn to Isaac’s face instead. “Are you alright? I could hear your
heart rate pick up from the other side of the room, which is something only
Derek does, usually.”
Isaac really was close. Stiles could see the little drops on his cheek, the
smell of his cologne mixing with the sweat and creating a scent that he
shouldn’t find arousing, but did anyway. He took a deep breath and started
laughing. “Yeah. Dude, I feel awesome.”
He really did, strange enough. He couldn’t hear the music anymore, only felt
the bass running through his body. Isaac’s hand on his shoulder was heavy, and
he could feel the touch through the fabric of his t-shirt, giving him
goosebumps down his arm.
Isaac snorted and stepped close enough for their bodies to almost touch. “I
figured.” He placed his other hand on Stiles’ hip, moving it up just enough so
he could run a finger over Stiles’ skin underneath the shirt.
The world slows down even more and Stiles figured that, yes, he would
definitely like Isaac to come even closer and put those hands around his neck,
to press and hold and who knows, maybe they could go home together tonight -
Stiles would really like that. Would like to slide his own hands over Isaac’s
skin and lick his way up his chest. The mere imagination was making him
aroused, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Isaac. The taller boy sniffed the
air, grinning down at Stiles as his eyes flashed gold, which according to
Stiles, is the prettiest colour in the universe, no doubt about it.
“So it’s true then. You’re into guys?”
Stiles lazily blinked at him, smiling as he lifted his arms - were they always
this heavy? - and wrapped them around Isaac’s neck, moving up to stand on his
tiptoes and press their noses together. “Maybe.”
Isaac’s reply was to lean in closer and tilt Stiles’ head so their lips could
touch each other. This was, Stiles thought to himself as he felt his eyes slip
closed, totally awesome and should be repeated all day, every day, on several
different locations.
Way too soon, Isaac pulled away, and Stiles let out a disapproving huff, trying
to pull him close again.
“Derek.”
“No, Stiles.” Stiles corrected him, with a frown. “You didn’t think I was
Derek, right? Are you drugged? Did that powder make you high? Oh my god I’m
such a..”
“No.” Isaac hushed him, trying to hear over the loud thumping of music. “Derek
is here.”
“What? But you said he went out.” Stiles tried to look at the corners of the
room, trying to catch a glimpse of Derek’s hair or - in a worst-case-scenario -
a flash of red eyes. “Isaac..?”
Isaac had his head tilted to the side, as if he was listening intently, but
then he turned back to Stiles, a frown on his face. “I think he’s calling.”
Stiles stared at him, the fuzz in his head making it impossible to put one and
one together. So when Isaac took his wrist, he just let himself be pulled
towards the exit, even though he really wanted to stay and dance more.
The outside air was chilly on his face, tiny droplets catching on his cheeks.
It made him laugh, and he opened his mouth to catch the rain in his mouth,
stumbling over his own feet as they were walking over the parking lot. When
Stiles looked up to see where they were going, he caught sight of an all-too-
familiar black car, with an all-too-familiar figure leaning against it. He
couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Really? I feel like I’m being picked
up at school.”
The glare that was cast in his direction, would usually have been enough to
make Stiles feel at least a bit uncomfortable, but now he only smirked and
turned his head away. “Fine. Home it is, then.”
He reached towards the handle of the door, but Derek beat him to it, pushing
him in with enough force Stiles landed on his chest, Isaac quickly following
and helping him sit up, before turning towards Derek, who was sliding in the
front seat. “Derek, I’m sorry.”
“Put on your seatbelt.” Was the only reply, and Stiles did as he was told,
leaning back against the cool leather of his seat. The fuzziness inside his
head seemed to have moved towards his stomach, and when they started driving,
he had to take a couple deep breaths to keep himself from throwing up. This
wasn’t a fun development.
On the background, he could vaguely hear Derek’s voice, “What did you give
him?”
“Nothing. He just had something to drink.”
“He doesn’t smelllike ‘just a drink’. Are you stupid? Don’t you notice that
it’s obviously something else, too?”
Stiles raised a hand to stop Derek from shouting abuse at Isaac - since the guy
had a way too pretty face to frown like that. “Just painkillers. And some
Adderall. I’m fine.” It was a bit of a lie, since he felt his stomach coil and
gurgle. “Wow. Fuck.”
Derek’s head snapped back as he glared at Stiles. “If you throw up in my car, I
will drag your face through it and make you eat it, I swear.”
Those words were enough to make Stiles’ stomach give up on keeping everything
contained, and he unlocked the door and threw it open, watching as Derek
maneuvered to the side of the road. He waited until the car had screeched to a
halt before he leant out, emptying his stomach on the concrete.  There were
stars in front of his eyes, and he could feel tears rolling over his cheek as
he stomach rolled and rolled until it finally calmed down enough for him to sit
up again. He kept a hand on the door, in case he started feeling nauseous
again, and weakly glanced up to see both Derek an Isaac staring at him. This
time Derek’s expression is more worried than furious, so Stiles gives him a
weak thumbs-up. “Good to go.”
He carefully closed the door, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gratefully
accepted the bottle of water that was offered to him. At least his head was
feeling a bit more clear now, the buzzing having finally left. He gulped down
the water in one go, keeping the empty bottle on his lap. He kept his eyes
focused on his hands, instead of the direction they were going. It was a
surprise when Derek pulled up at his place, instead of dropping Stiles at home
as he had expected. When he frowned at Derek, he got a cold look back. “We need
to talk first.”
“Can’t that wait?” Isaac asked, as he got out of the car. “Stiles could really
use some sleep, and I..”
“You were well enough to go out and party, you’re well enough to listen to what
I have to say.” Derek interrupted, locking his car and making his way to the
entrance of his flat. “Get inside.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Stiles (slightly involuntarily) takes the fall for Isaac,
     and Derek questions his decision to create a pack full of teenagers.
Ten minutes later they were all standing awkwardly in Derek’s living room,
having some sort of stare-off, until Derek broke the silence. “So,” he said,
placing his hands on the edge of the table. “I’m too tired to give you a
talking-to about why it was so wrong what you did, so I’m just going to ask
this once.” He paused, eyes shooting from Stiles to Isaac, ”whose idea was it
to completely ignore my orders and go out?”
Stiles and Isaac exchanged a look, before looking down at the floor and
shrugging. Stiles thought they must look like children who were caught stealing
candy, but the whole pack dynamic already has enough of a family hierarchy-feel
to it that Stiles really didn’t want to think about it that way. His stomach
still felt like it was going to heave, and he was glad he had been practicing
on keeping his heart rate stable, because he could’ve sworn Derek’s eyes rested
on him longer than was strictly necessary. He didn’t speak up though, just put
on his most innocent face, and tried to ignore Isaac fidgeting next to him. The
kid was awful at lying, or playing it cool when confronted with something like
this.
Apparently, their mutual silence lasted too long, because Derek’s eyes
flickered red, and he pushed himself away from the table with enough force that
it slid several inches forwards.  “Fine. Alright then.” Stiles felt relief
flooding his body as Derek didn’t seem inclined to start screaming. That was
way better an outcome than he’d expected. But instead of angrily walking away,
or start screaming at them anyway, Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
It was such a not-Derek-kind of thing to do, that Stiles stilled again. Isaac
seemed to grow even more uncomfortable, so when Derek called his name, he
practically jumped a mile. “Y-Yes, Derek?”
Stiles watched curiously as Derek started unbuckling his belt, and Isaac paled
and took a step back when Derek said. “Take off your pants.”
“What?!” Stiles said, more of an unbelieving statement than an actual question,
and frowned at Derek. “Dude, what the fuck?”
Isaac winced, trying to hide himself behind Stiles’ shoulder - which obviously
didn’t work, since he was way taller than Stiles could ever hope to be, and
Derek gave him an unamused look, absentmindedly running his hand over his belt.
It took Stiles a couple of seconds staring at it before he put one and one
together, and then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Wow, wait, Derek, you
can’t..”
Isaac spoke up as well. “We talked about this, can we just..”
“We did.” Derek interrupted them, raising an eyebrow, giving him a look that
reminded Stiles that Derek and Peter were family. That wasn’t a good thing.
“Which is why I’m wondering why you’re not yet taking them off, Isaac. Don’t
make me tell you again.”
Isaac let out a pathetic whine, but to Stiles’ disbelief, started kicking off
his shoes and unbuttoning his jeans. Stiles grabbed him by the arm, stopping
him. “Dude, no, I’m not letting him hit you.” He glared at Derek, then at the
belt Derek was holding, and he huffed. “You’re a dick, Derek,” before starting
to walk towards the exit of the apartment, dragging Isaac with him. “I’m taking
Isaac home.  It wasn’t even his idea to go out, for fucks sake.”
“Stiles..” Isaac started, and then Derek growled, sending a shiver up Stiles’
spine. Before he could turn around, however, there was a hand fisted around the
back of his shirt, and his feet didn’t touch the floor anymore. He started
struggling to get his feet on the floor, and for a second he thought it worked
when he was dropped in front of the table, but then his face was being smacked
against the cold wood. When his mind caught up with his body, he tried to push
himself up, only to flop down again when Derek’s hand pressed against his lower
back. He was vaguely aware of Isaac running up to him, but cowering when Derek
growled at him. Just peachy. “Ouch. Okay, Sourwolf, you made yourself clear.”
He mumbled against the table top, wriggling to get free from Derek’s iron grip.
“But you need to keep it real, dude, you can’t hit Isaac.”
The reply came in the shape of a loud crack, and Stiles gasped for air when he
could feel pain blossoming in his behind. “Ow! Fuck, what?”
“I can hit you.” Came Derek’s voice somewhere from behind him, and Stiles
turned to look back in disbelief. “Uh, no, you can’t? Let me go, you jerk!” He
struggled again, but the hand on his back only pressed down harder, keeping him
still. He suddenly got the brilliant idea to slap at Derek’s arm with his own
hands, and did exactly that. When Derek let go of him, he shot up, only to be
smacked down again, Derek holding both his wrists in one hand this time,
pressing them against Stiles’ back. Stiles gasped, the movement having knocked
the breath out of him. Derek’s voice was next to Stiles’ ear when he said; “Try
that again, and I’ll hit your hands as well.”
At the next blow, Stiles bit down on his lip to keep himself from wincing. Even
through his still clouded mind, that hurt. Suddenly the half-joking stories his
dad used to tell him about being hit when he grew up didn’t seem that funny
anymore, and he could feel his heart rate picking up as the pain got worse with
every passing second, spreading from his behind to his upper legs. “Holy..” He
breathed, blinking as the haze of alcohol and painkillers drifted away, leaving
only the painful clarity of the moment. He could feel the burning lines on his
ass, the weight of Derek’s hand on his back, the scratch of the wood against
his cheek.. It made him angry. Derek had no right to do this to him. Stiles
hadn’t done anything wrong. He started wriggling again, trashing around with
his legs, and smirked when his foot connected with Derek’s leg. He heard Derek
curse, and then Stiles’ hands were free, allowing him to scramble up. He turned
towards Derek, just in time to get a look at the man’s face before he got a
hold of Stiles’ ear, tugging at it as he snarled in his face. “What did I tell
you?”
Stiles yelped, trying to get his ear free. This was just plain embarrassing.
“Ow, Derek, you’re really hurting me.”
“What did I say I would do,” Derek said slowly, tugging harder at Stiles’
already abused ear, “if you tried it again?”
Stiles felt tears appear in his eyes, and his bottom lip trembled as he tried
to speak, his voice smaller than he would like. “You’d.. Hit my hands? Dude,
you can’t be serious, just let me go.”
Derek snorted, and let go of Stiles’ ear. “That ship sailed ages ago. Extend
your hands, palms up, fingers spread.”
Stiles, who had reached for his burning ear, trying to cool it down with his
palm, swallowed thickly as he looked up at Derek again. Surely Derek could
smell the fear radiating of him in thick waves. Why wasn’t he stopping now?
“Derek.. Come on, dude. This is ridiculous.”
Derek only raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face completely blank. “Hands,
Stiles.”
Stiles stared at him for a second, With a shuddering breath, Stiles raised his
hands in front of him, and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Derek raise the
belt. When the leather came in contact with his right hand, he couldn’t
suppress the tears that escaped his eyes, and when his left hand got the same
treatment, he let out a sob, clutching his hands to his chest and glancing up
at Derek from underneath his lashes as he spoke, “Are you done now?”
“One would think punishing  you might shut you up for once.” Derek said,
grabbing the back of Stiles’ neck and pushing him towards the table again. “No,
we’re not done. Bend over.”
Stiles felt his stomach drop. “No.”
Derek’s eyebrow shot up again. “No?”
“You can’t just do this.” Stiles blurted out, braver than he felt. “I just took
Isaac out for the evening. We shouldn’t need to ask for your permission for
everything. And you most certainly can’t beat me up because I didn’t do like
you planned.”
“I explicitly told you to stay at home.” Derek growled, “Because there were
still hunters on our territory. Because you were already hurt. My orders were
meant to protect you.”
Stiles snorted, even though guilt fluttered in his stomach and his behind
tingled in horrible anticipation. “You’re not doing a great job protecting me
now, are you?”
Derek closed his eyes in annoyance, and for a sweet second, Stiles thought he
was getting away with it, but then his cheek was met with the wooden table once
again. They were slowly becoming best friends now.
When he felt the belt resting against his jeans, he stiffened, tears
threatening to spill again. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his
chest, his stomach rolling over and over and...
There was a short silence - some kind of hesitation maybe? - And when Derek
spoke, it was softer, the growl no longer present in his voice. “5 more. Count
them out loud, alright?”
“Like I have a choice.” Stiles replied, trying to sound defiant, but mostly
failing.
“Make that six.” Derek said, and then the belt was gone. Stiles closed his eyes
and held his breath in anticipation. It seemed like ages before another crack
sounded and his body was slammed against the table by the force of the blow, a
sharp sting spreading on his behind. “O-One.”
 At the second blow, he couldn’t keep from letting out an involuntary cry,
clenching his hands into fists and whining when that gave him the same burn on
his hands. “Fuck.” The tears that had been burning behind his eyelids welled
over when he blinked, hot as they trailed down his cheeks and dotted the wood
beneath him. “Two.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to suppress the urge
to struggle against the hand holding him down. It took most of his self-
control, so when the next blow hit him he couldn’t help the cry that escaped
him before he could reign himself in. He opened his mouth to count, but didn’t
manage to speak, only sobs leaving his mouth.
“What was that?” Derek’s voice sounded like it was coming from through a solid
mass of water, as if the hand holding Stiles to the table was actually holding
him underwater. “I didn’t catch that.”
Stiles shook his head, swallowing thickly, before choking out something that
could be interpreted as a number with some imagination.
“Good.”
The last three strikes landed in rapid succession, the pain covering seemingly
every inch of his behind, and when Derek let go of Stiles’ wrists, his legs
decided they didn’t have to do their job anymore, so he simply slid down to the
floor, not even flinching when his sore body came in contact with the ground,
just curling up and willing himself to get out of the daze he had slipped in.
His entire body was hurting, muscles aching as if he’d had a particularly rough
lacrosse training, his head thumping. He lifted his hands to wipe at his eyes
with his sleeves and then he was lifted to his feet. His heart did a double
take, but then there were arms around his chest, hands rubbing soothing circles
on his back and Derek’s gruff voice in his ear. “Don’t make me do that again.”
Stiles had never agreed as easily to something in his life.
Tomorrow he would most likely feel angry, upset and hurt, but as he clung to
Derek’s shirt and sobbed against the older man’s chest, he could finally feel
the tension that had been building in his body for the last 18 hours slip away,
being replaced with an all-consuming exhaustion.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Derek and Isaac do a lot of talking, and Peter takes the
     matter in his own hands.
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warnings: mention of past abuse / panic attack / mentions of
     past discipline
     Massive thanks go out to Triggertinks for bètaing this chapter! There
     were many mistakes and incorrect tenses that I would never have
     noticed, so she made this chapter that much more pleasant to read,
     for which I thank you, m'lady. Please take a moment to check out her
     amazing stories on here (I'm making a podfic for one of them - look
     forward to that!)
     Also, almost 2000 hits on this story? I could smooch you all.
 Flashback:
 
 
“Hey Derek.” Isaac mumbled, breathing slowly as he grew more sleepy. “Will you
tell me about your family?”
Derek’s hand stopped where he had been rubbing Isaac’s stomach. They were
pressed together on the mattress on the floor in the room that would become
Isaac’s bedroom when they finally got the flat cleaned up, arms and legs
tangled to fit on the limited space. “What do you want to know?”
Isaac shrugged, snuggling closer to Derek’s neck, nuzzling his cheek against
the soft skin on Derek’s shoulder. “Anything. LIke, wasn’t it weird living with
other werewolves? Without any privacy?”
Derek’s chuckle vibrated through their bodies, and Isaac relaxed again, glad he
hadn’t offended his Alpha.
“I never really thought about it,” Derek admitted, rubbing his cheek against
Isaac’s curls and continuing to knead (is cool. Wtf is fondle th) his stomach.
“We didn’t have a lot of privacy, but we had soundproof bathrooms for…” He
trailed off, leaving the sentence to finish itself.
Isaac chuckled. “No bringing boyfriends or girlfriends home then.”
Derek shook his head with a grin. “Nope.”
“But what if you got in trouble or something?” Isaac continued, frowning.
“Wasn’t it awkward everyone could hear you? I was always glad the neighbours
couldn’t hear when my dad..” He shut up then, mouth snapping shut. Derek
sighed, pulling the teen closer. They lay in silence for a while, until Derek
let out a snort and Isaac jumped. “Usually my dad took everyone out for a run
when one of the kids got in trouble, so mom would have the privacy to scold us.
Most of the time we just had to stay home from a camping trip when we did
something.” He reminisced for a bit, seeing all too clearly his mom’s stern
face telling him to not eat so many cookies. He quickly pushed the thought away
and focused on the present.
“There, uhm, was one time - don’t you dare laugh - me and my siblings tried out
this one basic spell on Peter’s bodywash and it made him cackle out loud every
couple seconds. It was hilarious and the most annoying thing at the same time.
And we got in trouble for using magic, because of how dangerous it is if you
don’t know what you’re doing.” Derek smiled softly. “That was probably the only
time mom punished us when the others could hear it.”
“Hear?” Isaac repeated, looking up curiously. “What did she do?”
Derek’s face flushed slightly. “She, uhm,” he cleared his throat, before
chuckling, “She’d put us over her knee. It was ridiculously embarrassing at the
moment, knowing everyone knew what was happening.”
Isaac didn’t reply, and after a couple minutes of increasingly awkward silence,
Derek pushed up slightly, looking down at the curly-haired teen next to him.
“Are you okay?”
“She’d hit you?” Isaac asked, voice flat. Derek let out a breath of relief when
he understood. “It wasn’t like that, Isaac. She didn’t hurt us. Not like your
father did. There’s a very distinct difference between being disciplined and
being abused. Do you understand?”
Isaac was silent for a bit longer, and Derek was about to change the topic when
the younger boy shifted. “Does that mean that if I do something wrong, you will
hit me?”
Derek let out a hum as he considered how to answer. Finally he settled on
complete honesty. “I might. If you do something stupid or dangerous.” When
Isaac started to smell distraught, Derek pulled him closer, letting their noses
meet. “I would never hurt you like your father did, Isaac. It’s not like that.
What he did was wrong. A punishment is meant to teach you something, not to
make you fear the person administering it, alright? I wouldn’t ever want you to
be scared of me.”
He waited for Isaac to nod before he continued, “If I ever think it’d be
necessary to punish you like that, we’ll talk about it.”
Isaac nodded again, a small smile on his face. “Alright.”
“Good.” Derek closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into the pillow, tickling
Isaac’s stomach until the boy turned on his side.
“You know, you’re not that bad an alpha.” He grinned, which earned him a soft
growl from Derek. “Hey, just saying.”
“Shut up and sleep.” Derek ordered, without any heat.
Isaac smirked. “Yes, oh mighty alpha.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry, oh mighty alpha.”
Derek groaned. “You’ve been hanging out with Stiles too often.”
“It’s addictive.”
“Hanging out with Stiles is?”
“No.” Isaac replied with a snort. “His sarcasm.”
“Great. Soon there’ll be two smart-asses around me. Like I needed that.”
“You love us.” Isaac said, and then buried his face in Derek’s neck, obviously
intent on going to sleep. Derek hummed, and wrapped his arm around Isaac’s
waist, closing his eyes and drifting off almost immediately.
 
===============================================================================
 
 When Derek got back to his apartment he wasn’t surprised to find Isaac sitting
on the couch curled up in his pajamas with a blanket and a bottle of iced tea,
waiting for him - or so Derek assumed. He decided to let the kid stew in his
own juices for a bit longer, and dragged himself to the kitchen to grab himself
a can of iced tea - he would have preferred coffee, but the rational part of
his mind told him that wasn’t a healthy habit at 3am. He could hear Isaac
fidgeting in the other room and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he
wondered how and why he had ever thought it would be a good idea to surround
himself with teenagers. He’d thought they would be more rational, easier to
talk to, easier to explain things to, easier to set boundaries and limits
because they were young enough to learn it all. Yet here he was, sitting in the
kitchen at 3am after putting Stiles to bed - who’d ever thought that would
happen - and still having to deal with another delinquent. He really wasn’t up
for this.
When he heard the pitter-patter of Isaac’s bare feet, he took a large gulp of
his tea, lowering it just in time to put on his stern face as Isaac appeared in
the doorway. “Yes, Isaac?”
The teen looked down, chewing his lower lip in a way that reminded Derek an
awful lot of Cora, which hit him in the face like an iron fist. He had to blink
a couple times to get the heavy feeling off his chest and focus on Isaac, who
was trying to utter a sentence. “Stiles.. Is he, uh, okay?”
“He fell asleep,” Derek replied calmly, taking another sip of his iced tea, “So
I guess he is okay.”
“Good.”
There was a long silence where Isaac tried to stare a hole in the ground. Derek
was about to get up and go to bed when Isaac spoke again. “It should’ve been...
You should have hit me.”
“He admitted to it being his idea,” Derek shrugged, suppressing the urge to
roll his eyes at the heroic gesture.
“But he doesn’t heal,” Isaac replied, looking up for the first time, his eyes
flashing. “I do.”
Derek growled lowly, and put down the can of tea harder than he intended. “What
is your point, Isaac? That I shouldn’t have done it because he’s human?”
Isaac stiffened, biting his lip again, subconsciously taking a step back. “I’m
not saying that, I mean, you.. You’re the Alpha, you can do whatever you want,
I guess, it’s just that...” His voice trailed off as he walked towards Derek,
flopping down on his butt on the floor next to him. “You’re not mad at Stiles
anymore.”
Derek didn’t say anything, simply finished the don't use so many caps woman,
tea and wiped his mouth, raising an expectant eyebrow.
“And you’re still angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” Derek said, realising that he really wasn’t as soon as the
words left his mouth. Tired, annoyed, disappointed that his pack wouldn’t
listen to him even after all they went through together, yes to all of those -
but not angry. He let out a sigh as he raised his hand, feeling Isaac’s wince
before he saw it. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the boy’s unnecessary
fear, and ran his fingers through Isaac’s hair, letting his hand rest at the
nape of his neck, scratching gently. He could feel Isaac lean into his touch,
tense muscles sinking back into a more relaxed posture. “And I promised you we
would talk about it if I ever felt like I needed to punish you, didn’t I?”
There was an awkward minute of silence before Isaac looked up at him, swallowed
and said - “Is this us talking about it?”
“I guess it is,” Derek said, moving his hand to Isaac's shoulder so he could
keep the comforting effect of touch. “Are you going to stay on the floor?” 
“Yeah.”
“Alright.”
Once again there was silence and Derek found himself growing annoyed with it,
but pushed his discomfort down. He couldn’t help the harsh undertone in his
voice when he spoke. “You put yourself in danger today."
Isaac winced, but didn’t recoil. “Yeah. I didn’t know there were still hunters
on our territory.”
“I told you to stay home, didn’t I?” Derek asked, gathering some of Isaac’s
curls and tugging gently. “There was a reason.”
“I’m seventeen, Derek, my entire personality is designed to go against rules
set by authority figures,” Isaac sighed dramatically, leaning his head against
Derek’s thigh, and just like that all of Derek’s annoyance disappeared and was
replaced by amusement. He tried to keep himself from  broadcasting it too much
to Isaac, because he was supposed to be scolding the teen.
“Well, you should stop,” Derek informed him, tugging at the hair again. “It’s
going to get you in trouble.”
“I am trouble,” Isaac replied.
Derek snorted. “Yes, you are. Songs are written about kids like you,” he let
out a sigh and ran his free hand over his face. “Look, Isaac, I’m..  You need
to understand that going against one of my orders is unacceptable. You know I’m
gonna have to find a way to punish you, right?”
Isaac stiffened against him, and Derek played with his hair again, trying to
keep him calm. The boy took a deep breath and relaxed slightly, but his
shoulders were still tense. “Yeah. I know.”
“Isaac...” Derek groaned, not knowing what he could say or do to make this
easier. “ I need..”
“To hit me.” Isaac completed the sentence, voice carefully even, but there was
a slight pang of fear hidden underneath. “Yeah, I know. Do you need me to get
your belt?”
Derek closed his eyes and internally groaned. He wasn’t cut out for this. He
tried to imagine what his mom would do if she was confronted with this
situation, but drew a blank. If his mom were here there wouldn’t have been a
situation in the first place. She would have made sure the teens were at home
and surrounded by movies and snacks to keep them occupied while they were
healing. It was stupid of him to have not thought of it earlier.
“Isaac. Look at me,” Derek ordered. Isaac’s head snapped back immediately, eyes
huge, reminding Derek of his little brother. Jesus. “If you can’t deal with it
we can work something out, alright? You could just...” Derek paused, trying to
think up something boring and shrugged. “Clean the kitchen or something. We
should really clean out the freezer before the winter.”
“No!” Isaac cried out, scrambling away from the table and Derek. Derek jumped
up from his chair and was staring at the teen in confusion. Isaac was whining,
ridiculously sad yelps escaping him as his heart fluttered like a distraught
pup. “No. No, I’m sorry, Derek. Please don’t,” he covered his head as soon as
he reached the wall, trembling. “Please don’t.”
“Son of a...” Derek cursed, as he realized what the problem was. “Fuck. Isaac,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he swallowed, running a hand through
his hair. He had no idea how to deal with this. His wolf growled in
frustration, Derek bit his lip to keep from shifting. “Isaac! Stop this.” He
tried to order, but the boy only whined louder, eyes flashing gold as he
glanced up from underneath his elbows, sounding more like a wolf cub than a
human teenager. “Shit, shit, shit,” Derek took a step closer, thinking that
maybe if Isaac could smell him - smell pack and safety - he would calm down. It
used to work on him when he was younger, so maybe... Isaac growled when Derek
took another step, baring his fangs at him. Derek stopped, feeling his own
teeth grow as his wolf sensed the threat.
There was a shuffle of feet behind him. Derek turned around and found Peter
standing in the doorway wearing a pair of loose jeans with his hair still wet
from a shower, dripping water onto the floor. He glanced from Derek to Isaac
and immediately strode over to Isaac and crouched down in front of him,
grabbing his wrists and moving them away from his face. “Hey kid,” Peter
murmured, rubbing their cheeks together and wrapping his arms around Isaac,
forcing their bodies to clash together, Isaac’s nose buried against Peter’s
neck. “You need to calm down, alright?”
Isaac whimpered in reply, and Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I know. You gave me quite
the scare with your yelping.” Another whine, lower this time, and Derek watched
in wonder as Isaac’s face grew more human, fur retracting. "There we go. Good
boy,” Peter said, his voice warm and pleasant, as he stroked the back of
Isaac’s neck. There was a final soft squeal from Isaac, but then the boy was
quiet, body slumping against Peter as sobs shook his body. “Aw, there’s no need
for tears, kiddo.” He squeezed Isaac closer, and Derek was all of a sudden
painfully reminded Peter had just become a father when the fire happened. No
wonder he came running when Isaac started making those distressed noises. There
was a small smile on Peter’s face as he rubbed comforting circles on Isaac’s
back, humming as the sobs grew quieter and quieter until they finally stopped.
He then slowly pulled back, wiping away the tears that were still on Isaac’s
face. “Are you okay?”
Isaac nodded, sniffling once before looking up at Derek. “S-sorry, I...”
Peter interrupted him with a huff. “Nothing to be sorry about, Isaac. You can’t
help being triggered.”
Derek quickly agreed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
Isaac took a deep breath, looking from Derek to Peter, then back to Derek,
obviously wondering at a complete loss of what he should say or do next. “Do I
have to…” he started, licking his lips and wiping at his eyes again. “Uhm, do
you want to…?”
Derek opened his mouth, but Peter shook his head at him and put his hand on
Isaac’s lower back. “You’ll go shower and get ready for bed.”
“But what about..” Isaac said, before swallowing and looking at the ground.
“My, uh, punish...”
“I’ll take care of it.” Peter said, raising a questioning eyebrow to Derek. “I
think Derek could use a break.”
Derek nodded blearily and Peter threw him a smile with a 'we’ll-talk-about-
this-later' look, before guiding Isaac out the kitchen and up the stairs. Derek
could hear them talk softly, then the sound of running water. He heaved a sigh,
grabbed his leather jacket and headed out to get himself a burger, intent on
wallowing in his own frustration for a while.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Peter does as he promised and Isaac learns that pack is
     family (It's REALLY less fluffy than it sounds)
     Trigger warnings for mention of past abuse.
Isaac sniffed a last time as he looked in the mirror. His eyes were puffy, and
his cheeks stained with tears that slipped out after he got out of the shower.
He averted his eyes as he wrapped one of the large towels around himself,
drying the last drops of his skin. He hated crying. His father had told him
only children cry, and whenever he caught Isaac doing it, he would yell at him.
Or worse. He quickly discarded the memory and looked around, remembering all
his clean clothes were still in his bedroom. The clothes he had been wearing
before were sweaty and dirty, so those weren’t an option either.
With a sigh, he stalked outside, quickly passing through the hallway and
pushing open the door of his bedroom, almost dropping the towel at the sight of
Peter sitting at his desk. He instinctively pulled the towel up higher. “Uhh.”
“Covering your virginal chest?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised, and Isaac stared
at him for a couple seconds, before he let out a huff. “Yeah. Totally. What are
you doing in my bedroom?”
“I told Derek I would take care of it.” Peter said with a smile, pushing
himself away from the desk. “It being you.”
Isaac took a step back, closer to the door, keeping the option to bolt away if
necessary. “Well, you have to wait until I’m dressed.”
“Of course.” Peter said, magnanimously, but didn’t move or look away, so Isaac
tightened his grip on the towel. They stood like that for a while, until Peter
rolled his eyes and sighed, before turning towards the window in the room,
muttering.
“You know I can hear you, right?” Isaac said as he darted towards his dresser,
pulling out a pair of boxers and a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on and then
rummaging through the drawers to find a shirt. He didn’t. Isaac let out a soft
curse.
“Finished?” Peter’s voice said, and Isaac turned around to see the man a lot
closer than he was before.
“Y-yeah.”
Peter smiled at him, and Isaac felt his face flushing, even though there wasn’t
any reason for. “Look, uhm, about what happened downstairs..”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I..”
“Isaac.” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut. “I said don’t worry about it. You’re not
the first kid I’ve calmed down.” Another smile, and Isaac found himself aching
to know more about that. He actually didn’t know anything about Peter, except
for the ‘murderous-beast’- story. “And seeing how things are going in Beacon
Hills, I doubt you’ll be the last.” He reached out and put a hand on Isaac’s
shoulder, squeezing gently. “I know this is probably weird, and I know you
don’t particularly like me, but you’re my family now, so I’ll take care of you
when I have to.”
There was a silence, before Isaac nodded, and Peter dropped his hand and turned
around. “And I think this is one of these times.” He sat down on the bed and
motioned for Isaac to sit down next to him. Isaac followed after a beat of
hesitance, sitting down carefully, making sure there was space between them.
“I really am sorry.” He said, looking down at his hands, “for everything.”
“That’s a lot to be sorry for.” Peter said dryly, turning to look at Isaac,
“And also not necessary. Look, Isaac…” He sighed, and put a tentative hand on
Isaac’s shoulder again, “You know that’s what punishments are for, right? You
did something wrong, you get punished, you don’t have to feel guilty anymore
because it’s in the past.”
Isaac shrugged, the miserable feeling returning to his stomach. “My dad…”
Peter interrupted him with a scoff. “With all due respect, Isaac, your father
had a very distorted image of the proper way to raise you.” He sighed, and
moved his hand to the back of Isaac’s neck, playing with some of the longer
curls there. “Look, you’re going to feel like crap until we get this over with,
and there’s really no way to make it any less awkward.”
Isaac glanced up at Peter, swallowing thickly when he met the older man’s eyes.
“No, I guess not.”
“Alright.” Peter said, a small smile back on his face as he squeezed the back
of Isaac’s neck, managing to make him feel more relaxed. He briefly wondered
how that worked. It hadn’t been a thing before he was turned. “Get over my
lap.”
Isaac’s eyes widened and his throat suddenly felt dry. “What?”
“Over my lap.” Peter repeated, patting his thighs. Isaac glanced at them, back
at Peter’s face, and back at his lap, not quite understanding what was asked.
Peter rolled his eyes, and tightened his hand on Isaac’s neck, guiding him
until he toppled down over Peter’s knees. It was incredibly awkward, his legs
too long for this position, and he had no idea what to do with his limbs. There
was a huff from Peter. “Jesus, kid, you’re heavy.”
“Sorry.” Isaac mumbled, trying to adjust himself. “It’s because of lacrosse.
Muscle weight-oomph.” He felt Peter move his knees and suddenly he slipped
forward. He shot out his hands to catch himself before his face smacked against
the floor. The position wasn’t any more comfortable, but at least he didn’t
feel like he was going to ungraciously slide to the floor anymore.
“You can grab my ankle if you want to hold on to something..” Peter’s voice
said from above him, and Isaac turned his head to glance up at him, blinking
viciously to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t five, god
dammit. “But no claws. If I even feel the slightest prickle of claws, I will
double your punishment. Same goes for struggling and kicking - you’re old
enough to keep still.”
Isaac took a deep breath, turning back to stare at the concrete floor. Focus on
the floor. Focus on your hands. When he felt Peter’s hand on his behind, he
stiffened, heart rate skyrocketing, and he took Peter up on his offer, wrapping
his hands around the man’s ankle, holding on for dear life. Peter’s hand moved
to his lower back, rubbing gently. “Calm down, Isaac.”
Isaac tried, he really did, but it was hard to calm himself down when his body
was automatically getting into survival mode. His wolf was scratching at his
skin, and when he bit on his lip, he could feel his fangs sliding out. “I
can’t.” He muttered, trying his best to keep his claws from coming out as well.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t.”
“Of course you can.” Peter’s voice said, frustratingly calm, a stark contrast
with how Isaac felt. Peter’s hand was still rubbing soothing circles on Isaac’s
skin. “Focus on my heart beat.”
Isaac took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the steady thumping
of Peter’s heart, copied the rhythm of his breathing.
“There’s a man.” Peter praised, and Isaac felt the wolf curl up, eyes sliding
closed. “Good job, Isaac.”
Isaac’s chest swelled with Peter’s words, but the proud feeling quickly
disappeared when Peter started tugging at the waistband of his sweats. He tried
to reach back and stop him, but his hand was slapped away. And then his pants
were down his legs, leaving him very bare-bottomed and still lying over Peter’s
lap. A flush crept up his cheek as he lowered his head again, wrapping his arm
around Peter’s calf as he let out a small whine. This was really humiliating.
“Oh hush. I saw you run naked after a rabbit last week.”
“… Right.” Good point. That didn’t make this any less embarrassing, however.
The first slap took him by surprise. He had expected a warning, or at least to
hear it coming, but he had been too busy thinking about how he was lying pretty
much naked over the lap of an older man who wasn’t related to him. It wasn’t
how he had expected his night to end at all. He anticipated the second hit, but
still gasped, because it stung. It didn’t hurt, not really, and especially
compared to the treatment Stiles had gotten earlier that evening, he should
count his blessings. He held on to Peter’s leg, and tried to relax, mentally
counting every ten slaps.
When Peter stopped, Isaac looked up in hopeful surprise. That hadn’t been that
bad. His behind felt a bit warm, and the skin was sensitive to the touch, but
nothing like what he had imagined.
“No, we’re not done yet.” Peter said mildly, and Isaac’s stomach dropped. “Can
you remind me why I’m doing this, Isaac?”
Isaac frowned. “Because you’re punishing me.”
“Why?” Peter asked as his hand rubbed over the pink skin of Isaac’s behind, the
sting being steadily replaced with a pleasant glow. It was distracting. Isaac
was trying to think here. About what he did wrong. Not about anything else. At
all.
“Because I… Didn’t listen to Derek?”
“And?”
Isaac lay in silence for a moment. “I… Because I let Stiles take the fall for
me?”
The slap was hard enough to shake Isaac out of all comfortable zones he had
been slipping in. “Ow!”
“Try that again.”
“I don’t know.” Isaac said, annoyance bubbling up in his stomach. He shifted to
look up at Peter again. “What else did I do?”
Another slap, and Isaac yelped. “I said I don’t know!”
Peter sighed. “What were we talking about earlier, Isaac? I’m not doing this
because I find particular joy in the action, you know.”
Isaac flushed, and averted his eyes.
“Why did Derek tell you to stay home?” Peter asked, his voice once again too
calm for Isaac’s liking. This would be much easier if Peter would just be angry
and get it over with. He was related to Derek, wasn’t he? Derek was good at
angry. That reminded me.
“Because there were hunters on the territory.” Isaac echoed Derek’s earlier
words. “And because I was still healing.”
Peter didn’t say anything, but gave Isaac a pat on his thigh, encouraging him
to continue. Isaac licked his lips and tried to go through the conversation
he’d had with Derek. Oh. As realization sunk in, the tears threatened to well
up again. “Because it was dangerous, and I could get hurt.”
“Very good.” Peter shifted above him, and then his hand came down again, harder
than the last time. Isaac squinted his eyes shut, clenched his jaw to not wince
as the sound of his spanking echoes through the room. This was more like what
he’d imagined, except now he felt guilty for not listening to Derek’s orders
which were meant to keep Isaac safe. To protect him. It was stupid to go
against them, and he grabbed Peter’s ankle tighter as he wondered why he’d let
Stiles lure him out. Sure, going out had seemed tempting, but they could’ve
gone the night before. Or the day after.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a particularly harsh slap on his thigh,
and he let out a cry.
“Still with me?” It was a rhetorical question, but Isaac still nodded. “Good.”
The spanking became harder - or did his skin just get more sensitive? He
couldn’t really tell - and after a couple minutes Isaac couldn’t help the cries
that escaped him with every slap. He involuntarily started squirming, but
Peter’s hand pressed down on his back, holding him still. It was a silent
warning, but Isaac got it. “Sorry.” He gasped. “I’m sorry. I just can’t… Please
stop.”
Peter didn’t respond, and the slaps just kept raining down, setting Isaac’s
behind on fire. He pulled himself closer to Peter’s leg, as if he could escape
the assault on his ass like that. “Ow. Peter, shit. Ah, stop! I’m sorry, I get
it, please.” Any embarrassment he had had before completely disappeared as he
almost begged Peter to have any mercy on him. He didn’t.
It was another full minute before Peter’s hand came to a rest on his behind,
and Isaac was shocked to find his nose was running, sobs shaking his body as he
lay over Peter’s lap.
“There there, we’re done.” Peter said, his voice gentle as he rubbed up and
down Isaac’s back. It took a couple minutes until he stopped feeling like sobs
were taking over his body. He crawled up when Peter tugged up his trousers, and
managed to get them back on with only a wince. He sniffed as he got on his
feet, and rubbed at his eyes, angrily wiping his tears away. He wasn’t supposed
to cry. “Sorry.”
Peter got up from the bed and wrapped Isaac up in a hug, pulling the boy close
to his chest. It took him a few seconds, but then he returned the hug, leaning
his head against Peter’s shoulder and letting the last of his sobs out. When
Peter rubbed his back, he felt 9 years old all over again, having his dad
console him after he scraped his knee in the backyard. He marveled in the
moment for a bit longer, letting the familiar scent of pack surround him
completely, until he felt calm enough to pull away. He then gave Peter a watery
smile. “Thank you.”
Peter smiled back, and ruffled his hair. “Anytime, kid.”
“I’d rather not.” Isaac said, placing a careful hand on his behind. Even
through his pants, he could feel the heat radiating of his behind.
“Me neither. Come on, let’s get you some water before you go to bed.”
Isaac hesitated for a second, before shrugging to himself and deciding to give
it a shot. “Hot chocolate?”
Peter just threw his head back and laughed, shooing Isaac out of the room.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     The morning after.
Isaac woke up from a particularly vivid dream about chasing chickens. He then
went through a 30 second panicked phase when he looked around and there were
feathers everywhere, including in his mouth. His mind settled when his eyes
caught sight of the shredded pillow. “…Shit.” Well, at least he didn’t go
sleep-hunting. He would have to get himself a new pillow, though. He lay back
and looked at the ceiling, breathing in the morning air. He hadn’t woken up as
early as usual, since he couldn’t smell the dawn clinging to the grass, or the
birds singing their early song. Isaac liked those birds, even though he was
sure they didn’t share the feeling anymore. One morning after the full moon, he
had accidentally killed one that was brave enough to come sing on his window
sill, and since then they stayed away from his window, sitting on the tree
outside, not daring to come close to the hairy monster in the bedroom. It made
him a bit sad, because he really hadn’t meant to snap its neck. It’d just
smelled like food. As soon as he realized what had happened, he’d run to Derek
to see if they could save it, but his alpha had raised an eyebrow and snatched
the bird away from him, throwing it in the trash and demanding Isaac got the
blood cleaned of his skin. Isaac did as he was told, but picked the bird out of
the trash later, burying it underneath the tree outside his bedroom window. If
Derek noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.
Isaac stretched, curling and uncurling himself, enjoying the pop of his
muscles, the rush of waking thrumming in his veins. He let out a yawn, and sat
up, a dull pang of pain reminding him of the previous night, of Peter hauling
Isaac over his lap, his hand setting fire to his behind. He could feel blood
rushing to his face as he remembered how he’d cried against the older man, and
how he’d felt like a child. With a groan, he dropped his face in his hands,
digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he could see the
universe flashing behind his eyelids. This was going to be one of the most
embarrassing mornings. Peter and Derek were downstairs, at the kitchen table,
Isaac suspected, since he could smell coffee and bread and the disgusting
cheese Peter liked to eat. He could hear them talking, Peter’s melodic hum and
Derek’s rough morning voice, even if he couldn’t hear what they were talking
about. Isaac focused on Derek’s steady heartbeat, and he let himself relax. If
Derek was still angry, Isaac would be able to sense it. Just like that, the
conversation downstairs came to a halt, and Derek called out to Isaac to come
downstairs.  
“Good morning, pup.” Peter greeted him, when he entered the kitchen. Derek
looked up with a soft smile and patted the seat next to him, and Isaac felt his
heart flutter at the simple action. Being a werewolf was really weird, he had
decided that almost as soon as he’d become one, but one of the strangest things
was still how easily Derek’s affirmation or rejection could make or break
Isaac’s entire mood. It was like mind-control, but with a lot more feelings and
emotions.
“Morning.” Isaac yawned, slipping in at the kitchen table and eagerly reaching
towards the steaming coffee pot, but paused midway to glance at Derek, waiting
for a sign that the coffee was also meant for him. When Derek nodded, Isaac
poured himself a large cup, immediately taking a sip. He was surprised to find
that he felt completely relaxed, none of the stress of the past couple days
still present in his body.
“Slept well?” Peter asked, cutting through the silence, and Isaac looked up to
see the older man smiling at him - grinning in amusement would be a more
accurate description.
“Yes…?” Isaac replied, more a question than an actual answer. Peter chuckled,
and Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease, Peter.”
Isaac’s eyes flashed from Peter to Derek, then back to Peter, and he frowned,
uncertain what Peter was getting at, and kind of afraid of what it was. Myabe
Peter had told Derek all about how Isaac had broke down and cried. He didn’t
want Derek to think he was weak. He wasn’t. Maybe. “Huh?” His voice was a lot
more crackly than he intended, and he sucked in his bottom lip as he cleared
his throat and said, “What?”
“You’re a very vocal sleeper.” Derek said simply, before he took a sip of his
coffee, and Isaac’s face immediately flushed, remembering the ripped pillow and
the feathers in his mouth.
“We’re very proud you caught the chicken.” Peter said, voice amused, and Derek
choked on his coffee as he laughed out loud. Isaac’s mouth dropped as he
watched both Derek and Peter chuckle. It was an unfamiliar sight, which made
the entire situation the more embarrassing. Even though he was strangely
excited to see them both this happy. He bit his lip and thought that maybe
Peter had been right, that after yesterday, he was forgiven for disobeying
Derek. The thought made the last knot in his chest loosen, and he cracked a
small smile, taking a sip of his coffee and muttering. “It’s not funny.”
“We can get you a new pillow.” Derek managed to get out, before he reached over
and plucked a white feather out of Isaac’s hair. “I take there’s not much left
of it.”
“I devoured that chicken.” Isaac agreed, and he couldn’t help the edge of pride
in his voice, because it had been the first dream in weeks that hadn’t been a
nightmare, and that was something to be proud of. Peter grinned, and finished
off his sandwich, flushing it with the remains of his coffee. “If you’re ready
and dressed, I’ll take you to Ikea.”
“Bring some pillows for the couch.” Derek ordered, glancing at the bare living
room. “Maybe a carpet.”
“If you want to re-design the interior, you better go yourself.” Peter rolled
his eyes as he got up, motioning for Isaac to finish his coffee. “Chop chop,
Isaac.”
Derek got up at the same time as Isaac did, grabbing both of their mugs and
rinsing them in the sink. “I’m going to check on Stiles.”
Isaac stopped mid-walk as he remembered Stiles, his cheerful mood disappearing
almost immediately. “Oh.”
“No.” Derek said, as if reading Isaac’s mind. “You’re not going to blame
yourself.”
“But…” Before he could let his mind wander to the place where everything in the
world was Isaac’s fault, - Stiles liked to call it the Derek-Hale-Syndrome that
was transferred by his bite - Peter’s hand was on his shoulder, roughly
steering him towards the stairs.
“Get dressed and text Stiles that I’m on his way.” Derek said, and Isaac took a
deep breath, before he nodded and ran upstairs to grab his phone.
 
===============================================================================
 
Waking up was one of those things Stiles never really liked. Whether he’d had a
good dream, a nightmare or didn’t dream at all, making the transition from the
world of his mind to the real one was always a shock that made him drowsy and
disoriented for the first thirty minutes of his day.
Waking up on this particular Saturday wasn’t any different. He blinked awake to
the light of the sun touching his eyelids, groaned, and rolled on his back. He
immediately regretted his decision as his body’s soreness made itself known and
the memories of last night came back to him. He rolled back on his stomach and
sighed. “Ouchie.” His behind ached in sympathy.
There was a knock on his door, before it swung open, and his dad peered inside.
“Stiles? It’s almost ten, are you ill?”
Stiles very carefully pushed himself on his knees, wincing at the sting that
spread through his hands when he leant on them. “Ow.”  He turned to look at his
dad, putting on a smile. “Hey dad.”
His dad raised an eyebrow. “Looks like it was one hell of a party.”
“You don’t even want to know.” Stiles agreed, deciding to just get it over with
and swinging himself off the bed and on his legs. His lower body ached all
over, but aside from that, it seemed he was alright. “Ugh.”
“Come on, breakfast’s ready.”
“Yes sir!” Stiles saluted, and couldn’t help the wince as the movement made the
sadly already familiar sting spread through his hand. That was going to hurt
like a bitch today.
His dad’s slightly amused expression slipped into a concerned one when his eyes
caught on Stiles’ hand. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
“My hand? Nothing’s wrong with my hand! Why would you think there was something
wrong with my…” Stiles rambled, hiding them behind his back as his dad walked
up to him and tried to grab his wrist. He turned and squirmed, managing to
escape his dad’s grasp. “No. Dad, come on.” Finally his dad got hold of one of
Stiles’ wrists and pulled it towards him. Stiles watched in slight horror as
his dad turned his hand and his eyes caught side of the red welt that covered
his palm. “How did you get that?”
“I don’t remember.” Stiles lied, easily, but kept his eyes downcast. “I only
now noticed it.”
“Liar.” His dad said, with a fond smile, but his brows still creased in worry.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this kind of…” He said, but then shrugged and
dropped the topic. “Let’s go put some ice on that.”
 
“So I’ve been thinking maybe we could do something today.” His dad said, over
the plate of egg-whites Stiles had shoved at him. Stiles looked up, a piece of
bacon falling from his mouth, and his dad raised an eyebrow at him. “I have the
weekend off, so we can go visit that large movie store you like, catch a movie
and some greasy dinner and come back tomorrow. It’s been a while since we
actually did something like that.”
Stiles rolled his eyes at the ‘large video store’, since it was actually one of
the biggest video games and movie store in California, and was about to reply
excitedly when he realized that that would mean having to sit in the car for
several hours. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sit still for that
long, and he felt his face drop, the excitement leaving him faster than water
running down the drain. “Aw, man, I really want to, dad, but, uhm, I have this
geography group work due Monday, so…” He really hated Derek at the moment. Very
intensely hated. Hated him enough that he could very well never talk to him
again.
His dad gave an understanding nod, making Stiles feeling a lot worse about
lying to him. It was slowly becoming a habit, and it was awful. “Maybe another
time.”
“Of course.” His dad said, taking a sip of his coffee, before getting up and
putting his plate in the sink. “Don’t forget to take your meds, kiddo.”
“On it.” Stiles muttered, watching his dad walk out of the kitchen with an
increasingly tightening knot in his stomach. It was for the best, he told
himself, to not have his dad figure things out until Stiles was ready to tell
him. Not that Stiles would ever tell him about last night’s events, no sir, not
ever. Staring down at his breakfast, he realized he really wasn’t hungry
anymore, and just pushed his plate to the side with a sigh.
“I’m in my room.” He called out to his dad, and made his way upstairs, passing
by the bathroom to take a shower. As the water was heating up, he couldn’t help
himself, and slipped his pajama pants down to take a glance at his behind in
the mirror over the sink. To his surprise, there was hardly any evidence of
Derek’s punishment. There was a small bruise on his right thigh, and when he
ran his hand over his bum, it tingled underneath the touch. “Huh.” It had felt
like Derek had beat the crap out of him, yet no one would be able to tell what
actually happened. No one except Stiles, who would be reminded every time he
sat down for the next couple days. And anyone who looked at his hands. There
were two angry red lines running over his palms, curling around his hand. His
dad had some ointment on the welt, frowning at Stiles when he’d raised his
other hand apologetically, asking for the same treatment. “I bet I don’t want
to know, do I.”
“You don’t.” Stiles had mumbled, and that had been the end of that
conversation.
He sighed heavily, and finished undressing, careful to not put too much stress
on his injured hands. As he got in the shower he muttered to himself about how
ridiculously weird his life had become. Maybe he’d text Isaac later to check if
Derek hadn’t torn him apart. The buttface.
 
When he entered his room again, the largest towel he could find wrapped around
himself and making him feel like a large burrito, he was almost not surprised
to find Derek sitting on his bed. “Why do you always just appear?” He said,
instead of a greeting, tightening the grip on the towel and walking over to his
dresser, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt. “Would it hurt you to let me
know you’re coming by?”
“Isaac texted you.”
“I was showering,” Stiles said, as he turned his back to Derek, dropping the
towel and quickly slipping on his boxers. Derek’s presence had made his relaxed
feeling slip away, being replaced by an embarrassed sort of grumpiness. “Why
are you here?”
As he turned back to Derek, the alpha had an unamused expression on his face,
which made Stiles’ stomach clench uneasily. “I came to check up on you. See if
you were alright.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Derek’s true intentions. “Really now.”
“I’m the alpha.” Derek said simply, as if that explained every bit of
weirdness. He got up and walked over to Stiles, grabbing his chin and studying
his face. “You didn’t sleep well.”
Stiles scoffed - or made a sound that would be a scoff if he could properly
move his mouth. “Of course I didn’t.” He mumbled, and pulled back, bumping
against the dresser and wincing as it reminded him of how sore he was. “Can you
just leave?” He didn’t want to have Derek there to come make fun of him. It was
embarrassing enough to see the man after last night, let alone to be
meticulously studied. Or have Derek look at him with that ridiculously confused
expression as he asked. “Are you angry with me?”
Stiles gaped at him, and then did his best to glare. “Angry, embarrassed,
mortified, take your pick, big guy.”
“Why?” Derek sounded completely lost, and Stiles threw his hands in the air as
he flopped stomach down on his bed.
“Maybe because you beat the crap out of me and had to basically carry me home
afterwards.” Stiles muttered against his pillow, wanting nothing more than to
sink away and have Derek never ever see him again. For a week, at least. “What
part of that isn’t clear enough?”
“I didn’t beat the crap out of you.” Derek said, dumbfounded, as he sat down
next to Stiles. Stiles glanced up to look at Derek’s face, and it seemed honest
enough. Huh. “You did something wrong and I punished you. I’m sorry it happened
at an unfortunate moment, but it really was only a matter of time. If I want to
build a stronger pack, I can’t have you, or Isaac, for that matter, acting up
and disobeying a simple rule I set out.”
Stiles huffed and buried his face in his pillow again, moving to lie on one
cheek so he could still speak. “So is this going to be a regular thing? I do
something you don’t like and you just hit me?”
“I could treat you the same as Scott and bite you until you submit, if you’d
prefer that.” Derek said, with a small grin, and Stiles snorted at that.
“No, thank you. I don’t want you to hit me, though. It hurt like a
motherfucker.”
“It was meant to hurt.” Derek’s hand was suddenly on his back, rubbing circles
in a soothing rhythm. “And it would have been a lot less bad if you hadn’t
struggled the way you did. I had trouble keeping you down.” As if it was an
afterthought, he added, “You’d be a strong wolf.”
It was so close to a compliment Stiles temporarily forgot his indignance and
looked at Derek with a surprised expression on his face, before he managed to
get his pokerface back on. “I still don’t want to be one.”
“I know.”
Stiles sighed, and allowed himself to sink into Derek’s touch, enjoying the
positive attention in contrast to the previous evening. “I’m sorry for not
listening.” He said, softly, and Derek squeezed his shoulder. “I didn’t think
it’d be that bad.”
“If there are hunters, we wait 48 hours to be sure there’s not threat.” Derek
said, his hand digging into Stiles’ shoulder in a way that it could almost be
considered a massage. “I should have told you.”
“Yeah.”
“You should have trusted me.”
Stiles sighed. “Yeah.”
“Alright.”
After a minute of comfortable silence, Stiles asked, “And Isaac?”
“He’s fine. You can come over tonight and see for yourself, if you want.”
“Sounds good.“ Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, and realized that any of
the anger he had still left, was completely gone after their conversation. He
wished he could tell Derek without sounding like a fool. So he just rolled over
on his back and sat up, ignoring the throb of his butt. He gave Derek a serious
look, and then slowly tipped his head back, exposing the line of his throat to
Derek. A clear sign of acceptance, according to the internet. Derek gave him a
wide grin, and buried his nose against Stiles’ neck, rubbing himself against
Stiles.
“You need to tell me stuff like the hunter-thing, though.” Stiles said, between
little huffs of laughter. “I can’t deduce it from your glaring.”
“Don’t ruin the moment.” Derek muttered in amusement, and Stiles just laughed
softly, secretly relieved Derek had come to see him.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Isaac and Stiles fuck up (again), and Derek has to figure
     things out.
As usual, it had seemed like a good idea when they had been at the loft,
glaring at their chemistry homework and wishing desperately for the week to
end. Stiles’ eyes had caught on the keys innocently hanging from their neat
little hook in the kitchen area. And as soon as the idea had been in Stiles’
head, there really was no other way for the evening to unfold as it did. It was
fun, there was a lot of alcohol involved, and somewhere along the evening he
had ended up shotgunning Isaac, which was exactly as hot as it sounded. And it
was going great, really, they had been on their way back to the loft, hardly
able to keep their hands of each other. Of course, it was because of that that
they hadn’t really seen the stump of the tree Derek had cut down a couple weeks
before.
Luckily both got out of the car unharmed, but it still gave them enough of a
scare that all of the effects of alcohol and weed drifted off, leaving them
very clear-headed and horrified as they stared at the smoking, upside down
remains of the Camaro.
 
“Holy shit.”
“Oh my god.”
“We are so very thoroughly fucked.”
“In the best case scenario.”
“Really, Isaac? Really?”
“I’m trying to take the attention away from the wreck that originally was
Derek’s very expensive car.”
 
===============================================================================
 
“Uh oh.” Peter looked from Isaac, who was innocently sitting on the couch,
pretending to read an upside-down magazine, to Stiles, who was very
unconvincingly pretending to be  looking  out of the window. “You two are
looking positively guilty today.”
Isaac dutifully kept his eyes on the magazine, but the tips of his ears were
steadily growing pink, and Stiles snapped his head away from the window to look
at Peter. “What? We’re completely innocent. We’re the poster children of
innocence. We’re not guilty of anything at all.”
Of course Peter could immediately hear the blips in his heartbeat, so he raised
an eyebrow as he dragged his suitcase inside, making Stiles cast his eyes down.
Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. There went his peaceful evening. “Whatever
happened, bother Derek with it.” He made sure to speak slightly louder than
usual, so that when Derek appeared in the door a couple seconds later, carrying
the gifts they had gotten from the Chicago pack, as well as two duffel bags, he
was wearing a suspicious expression. 
“Bother me with what?”
Peter inwardly snickered, and took one of Derek’s duffel bags. “I’ll be
unpacking. Toodles.”
 
Peter was a dick. Of course Stiles always knew that he was a dick, but calling
them out to Derek was the kind of  action that moved  him up to the top of the
dick-meter. It moved him up so high the dick-meter exploded. And that was
where  the comparison should really end before Stiles started off the wrong
trail of thoughts. So Stiles ignored both Peter and Derek, in favor of looking
back out of the window. Isaac however, seemed unable to not answer his Alpha.
“We …  Need to tell you something, Derek.”
“Nothing important, though.” Stiles lied easily, eager to postpone telling
Derek about his car. “You should totally unpack first. We can talk tomorrow. Or
the day after that.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Derek staring straight
at him, mouth turned down into the all too familiar half annoyed, half
disappointed expression Stiles had began to associate with his own presence in
Derek’s flat. “Or never. I can very well live with never.”
“Tell me.” Derek said, simply, breaking the eye contact and making his way
towards the table, gracelessly dumping the several packages on top of the
table. “And then you’ll help me unpack and we’ll get something to eat.” He
started organizing the packages in seemingly random orders, before glancing up
at Stiles. “Is your dad working the morning shift?”
“Double shift, yeah.”
“You’ll come along then, you’ve lost weight.” He stopped rummaging through the
gifts and looked up with a frown when there was no affirmation from either  of
the  boys. “It’s something bad, isn’t it.”
Isaac quietly closed the magazine and sat up, leaning his chin on the back of
the couch and looking up at his Alpha with the same pair of puppy eyes that
made Stiles want to squeeze his cheeks. Derek didn’t seem to buy it. He stood
up straight, crossing his arms and really showing off every muscle and vein and
Stiles really couldn’t handle this. “… Maybe.”
Derek sighed. “Well I should have anticipated this. Spill it.”  
Stiles shared a look with Isaac, who was trying to disappear in the cushions of
the couch, leaving Stiles to do all the explaining. As usual. Next time,
Stiles would spike his weed with more  than a bit of wolfsbane. “We, uhm, may
have crashed your car.”
Derek’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
Stiles tried a small apologetic smile. “It was an accident.”
“An accident.” Derek repeated, and Stiles took a step back when he saw Derek’s
left eye twitching. “You crashed my car.”
“Yeah.”
“You mean the one you had no business being around in the first place.”
“…Yeah.”
“The one that I never gave you permission to use.”
“It wasn’t just me, Isaac was involved as well!”
Isaac looked up, eyes wide. “I wasn’t as high as Stiles!”
Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles, and Isaac bit his lip. “I didn’t mean to
say that out loud.”
“You were… How do you even get high?” His voice was a mix of confusion and
fury, with a hint of awe, and it made Stiles shiver.
“Mixed pot with dried wolfsbane.” Stiles muttered, and ran a hand through his
hair. “Look, Derek, it was really stupid, but can we look at the bright side
here? We both got out of it unharmed, and…”
“What did you do with it?” Derek interrupted him, voice cold. “You just left it
where you crashed?”
Stiles opened his mouth to deny it, but closed it again when he realized that
was exactly what they did. Derek was silent for a couple seconds, before he
cursed, his eyes flashing red. “Isaac, come here.”
Isaac almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to walk to Derek, and
Stiles had a horrible flashback to when Derek had picked them up from that
party. He took a step forward, intending to step in when things went awry, but
Derek lifted a hand in his general direction, halting him. He turned towards
Isaac, who was biting his lip and looking for all the world like he wanted to
sink into the ground. “I’m really disappointed in you, Isaac. I expected
something like this from Stiles,” - Stiles’ mouth dropped - “but not from you.
I just… I’m not even going to deal with you right now. Just go…” He took a
breath and waved his hand, “stand in a corner until I’m not pissed anymore.”
And to Stiles’ disbelief - he should really start believing Derek’s alpha-ness
- Isaac nodded, and Stiles heard him mutter an apology before he went to stand
in a corner, head leaning against the wall.
“And then you,” Derek started, and Stiles snapped his attention back to the
older man, “You should know much better than driving while intoxicated. You
know, with your dad being the Sheriff and all that.”
“I was bored.” Stiles countered, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. “I can’t
help making stupid decisions then.”
“Well you better learn to control those urges then.” Derek snapped, making
Stiles jump. “It wasn’t just stupid, it was plain dangerous. If you want to
make childish decisions, I will treat you as a child.” Stiles tried to keep his
chin up, but it wasn’t easy under the man’s intimidating glares. “Take another
corner, and stay.”
Stiles sighed. “Look, Derek, I totally respect your authority…”
“No, you don’t.” Derek sighed, running a hand over his face.
“Alright, I occasionally may have questioned your choices and commands, but…”
“Stiles.”
“I think,” Stiles continued, a bit louder, “that we should actually talk about
this, instead of you just barking at me - hah, barking - ow, no, come on!”.
Derek had grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him towards the other side of
the room. Stiles balked once more. “Derek, you know I can’t stand still, you
can’t just put me in a corner,I’m not 7 years old anymore.”
Stiles could pinpoint the exact moment Derek’s face went from ‘really done’ to
‘so much beyond done it’s a miracle you’re still walking’, but by the time he
did, it was too late to do anything about it. So when he grabbed Stiles by the
front of his shirt and slammed him against the window, it was not really a
surprise anymore. Stiles didn’t even wince, though he swore one of his
shoulders made a cracking noise when he came in contact with the glass. He did
remember to cast his eyes down when Derek glared down at him - something Scott
had said about challenging the wolf and how that was a very bad thing. “I have
had it with your back-talking, Stiles. You either go stand in that corner and
be quiet…” He tightened his grip on the shirt, and Stiles’ heart sped up. “Or I
will give you such a beating you won’t be sitting for a month. Your choice.”
That wasn’t even fair. That was very much not even close to remotely fair.
Stiles lifted his head, looked at Derek’s face for signs he was being sarcastic
or just throwing empty threats his way, but there were red eyes and a very
intense stare and Stiles felt the familiar rush of panic running through his
veins. So he nodded eagerly, his voice rough when he croaked out. “The corner
is fine.” Better than the alternative at least.
“That’s what I thought.” Derek spat, letting go of Stiles’ shirt and turning
away. Stiles watched him stalk up the spiral stairs, leaving Stiles and Isaac
alone in the room. He let out a sigh and shook his head as he did as Derek told
him. He could hear Derek speaking angrily, but couldn’t make out the words. For
not the first time, he wished for his ears to be more sensitive, so he could
figure out whether he had to make a run for it and lock himself in his
werewolf-proofed room until Derek decided that it was ridiculous and would not
hurt him. That’s was when he heard a door slam closed upstairs, and Derek’s
voice sounded more clearly.
“They crashed my car.”
Peter’s voice was as calm as always when he answered. “I know, Derek. But it’s
just a car. There’s no reason to be this upset about a vehicle you can easily
replace if you’d just pass by the bank and accept the transfer…”
“They crashed Laura’scar.” Stiles may have been imagining  the  way Derek’s
voice cracked when he spoke, but it still made his stomach churn uneasily. Of
course Isaac had heard it as well, because his head snapped away from the
corner for the first time, and he looked at Stiles in panic. “Laura’s car?
Isn’t that…”
“Derek’s sister, yeah.” Stiles replied quietly, as realization sunk in. “Jesus,
I didn’t know. Oh my god, we’re horrible people.”
“He’s going to kill us.” Isaac’s voice was a lot higher than usual, and Stiles
might have thought it funny if he hadn’t been afraid Derek might actually kill
them this time.
 
As it turned out, Derek did little more than send Stiles home a couple hours
later, telling him to not come near the loft for a week. It was at once much
less and much more than he felt he deserved, and it was with a heavy lump in
his throat he opened the front door of his own house. For some reason, being
send home without any tangible consequences felt worse than it would have if
Derek had kept with the trend of physical punishment. Having him mule over the
past day was more torture than anything else. He grabbed a bottle of energy
drink from the fridge, and made his way to his room. He had intended to spend
half of the night on the internet, but as he looked at the screen of his
computer, he felt the need to actually do stuff disappear. So he just changed
into his pyjamas and crawled in bed, pulling the covers over his face to drown
out anything but the darkness and the sound of his own breathing. It didn’t
work, and he ended up falling in and out of a light sleep filled with the
burning wreck of the Camaro and Derek screaming.
 
ISAAC’S_POV
 
“Derek?” Isaac bit his lip and shuffled his bare feet on the floor, hesitating
in the doorway. It had taken him five minutes already to build up the courage
to open the door and speak. Yet everything he had been rehearsing fell away as
he looked at the lump in the middle of the bed. “I… Uh.”
“Go to sleep, Isaac.” Came Derek’s voice from the bed, where he was curled up
underneath the blankets. If someone’s back could flip him off, it was pretty
sure that was what Derek’s back was doing. “It’s late.”
“I know.” Isaac said, taking a step into the room, trying to on the one hand
ignore the urge to run up to Derek, wrap himself around his alpha and look for
comfort, and on the other hand not give in to the pull to run out of the room.
“Can I stay here for a bit?”
There was a beat of silence, before Derek sat up and gave him the most icy
glare Isaac had ever seen. “No. Go to your own room.”
Isaac felt his heart drop to his stomach, but he put up his chin and decided to
try and explain. “I had a nightmare.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he
felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Apparently Derek thought so as well,
because he raised his eyebrows and gave Isaac the ‘are you serious’-look. Isaac
dropped his eyes. “I can just sit on the floor. I promise I’ll be silent.” His
voice shot up an octave on the last words, and he cleared his throat as if
there was something stuck in there, instead of it being his nerves. He could
feel Derek’s gaze on him, even though he couldn’t meet his eyes, instead
focusing on wiggling his toes. Then there was a sigh.
“Go drink some water and go back to sleep, Isaac. You’ll fall asleep again
eventually.”
He wanted to say something, to try and convince Derek to let him stay, just so
that he could have Derek’s presence calm him down, but he couldn’t bring
himself to do anything else than nod. “Alright. Uh, goodnight. Sorry.” He
quickly made his way out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He ran
a hand through his hair, and let out a sigh. He actually didn’t know what he
had expected. Derek was still upset with him, that much was obvious, but it
still stung to have Derek reject him so vehemently when he worked up the
courage to ask for comfort.
 
“You okay, pup?”
Isaac looked up, wrangling his face in a half-grin as he met Peter’s eyes.
“Hey. Yeah. Totally fine. Peachy.”
Peter snorted, and walked over to where Isaac was leaning against the counter,
casually leaning next to him. “Bad dream?”
“Nightmare.” Isaac corrected him, turning his eyes back to his glass of water.
He really didn’t want to talk to Peter about it. Or to anyone, for that matter.
Not that anyone else would want to listen - Derek made that painfully clear.
“You don’t have to call them bad dreams. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Ah, of course not.” Isaac heard a shuffle behind him, and was certain Peter
was going back to bed. That was, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He
stiffened, but Peter only patted his shoulder, using his other hand to put on
the kettle. Isaac was going to blame some kind of animal instinct for the way
he turned around and practically wrapped himself around Peter’s chest, pressing
his nose against Peter’s neck. All instinct. Obviously.  He focused on the
scent instead of the still semi-uneasy feeling he got around Peter most of the
time, and allowed it to make his tense muscles relax. Peter hummed against his
hair, and when he ran a hand down the back of Isaac’s neck, he felt like he
would melt into a puddle right there.
“There we go.” Peter said, and pulled back slightly, eliciting a whine from
Isaac.  “Now none of that. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Isaac blearily looked at him for a couple seconds, and did his best to suppress
the wobble of his lower lip as he admitted, “Derek hates me.”
Peter rolled his eyes, and reached out to ruffle through Isaac’s hair, softly
tugging at one of the strands, same as Derek did. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s
just not sure what he should do now. You did, after all, destroy one of the
last remaining tangible memories of his sister.”
If possible, Isaac’s lip started trembling more vehemently. At least that was
how it felt, and in that moment he couldn’t bear looking at Peter. “You can
just tell me I’m a horrible person.”
There was a huffed laugh, and then Peter was gone, back only seconds later with
a steaming cup of tea. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re not. You just… Have some
problems with authority. We’ll take care of that.”
“Like you took care of me last time?” Isaac carefully asked, casting Peter a
cautious glance.
Peter smiled, and blew away some of the steam of his cup. “Not tonight.”
Isaac frowned. “That’s not really a guarantee.”
Another smile. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Oh.” 
Peter handed him the cup of tea, before pushing away from the counter. “You’re
going to go back to your room and drink that, and then you’re going to try and
sleep.”
Even though Peter wasn’t any more of an Alpha than Isaac was, he could feel
himself aching to obey. So he just nodded, and allowed Peter to escort him back
to his room.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
STILES_POV
 
“I don’t think I have ever in my entire career had such an ignorant abomination
of a student in my class.” Harris sneered, not even bothering to look up from
the papers he was grading. “Your face alone makes me want to endanger my job if
that means I get to wipe that cocky smirk of your face.”
Stiles looked up from his desk, frowning. “I don’t smirk.”
This time Harris did look up, a horribly amused smile lifting the corners of
his lips. “And here it is again, your voice talking back to me when I
explicitly instructed you to keep quiet. You’d almost think you’d want
detention for the rest of the week.”
Stiles clenched his hands into fists, taking a deep breath and settling down
again, trying to keep his cool. He knew Harris was just trying to get a rise
out of him, and he wasn’t interested in humoring the man. “Not at all, sir.”
He turned his eyes back to his desk, and traced the lines of a particularly
complicated swirl one of the students who’d been here before him had drawn. It
looked like something that would easily fit in with some of the magical symbols
Stiles had been looking up. Maybe he could design his own symbol. One that
would repel evil chemistry teachers.
He was brutally pulled out of his day dream by said evil chemistry teacher, who
slammed a graded test in front of Stiles. “I would say I’m surprised, Mr.
Stilinski, but I’m really not.”
“Neither am I.” Stiles muttered, glancing at the bright red F on top of the
paper, before he dropped his head in his hands and sighed. There was no way
today could get any worse. He hadn’t slept, Scott refused to talk to him, he
was stuck in detention for another hour, and he was failing chemistry. Not to
mention how his phone had died so there was no way to let Derek know why he
wasn’t outside to be picked up. He shifted in his seat, wincing when that sent
a spark of pain through his back and breathed out a soft gasp. Isaac hadn’t
seemed to be this bothered by sitting, did he?
“You know,” Harris said brightly, walking back to his front desk and leaning
against it. “I’d think that you’d have tackled your problematic issues by now,
since they seem to land you in detention time all the time.”
Stiles shrugged, and didn’t answer. It was probably the best to keep his mouth
shut and avoid getting in even more trouble.
“Or perhaps,” Harris continued, “it’s because your father isn’t around enough
at home to hand out punishment for the things you perpetually fuck up.”
Stiles closed his eyes and pushed down the anger he felt bubbling in his
stomach.
“So I ask you, Mr. Stilinski, does he work the extra evening shifts to earn
more money…” His voice was closer, but Stiles ignored him. Breathe in, breathe
out. He tried to focus on the sound of cars in the parking lot, instead of the
drone of Harris’ voice, no matter how gleeful it sounded. The man was an
asshole. “Or because he just doesn’t want to spend those evenings with you?”
But that was one step  too  far. Stiles jumped up from his seat and slammed his
hands down on the desk. “Shut up!”
Harris’ smile widened. “Excuse me?”
“You…” Stiles started, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his
chest, “have no right to talk about my dad like that.”
“But I do, Mr. Stilinski.” Harris said, leaning down on Stiles’ desk and
positively glowing with glee. “Because you won’t tell anyone, would you?”
Stiles stared at him, jaw slacked, and he realized that Harris was right. Who
would he tell? The school wouldn’t believe him, he wouldn’t bother his dad with
it, Scott would give him an emphatic look and tell him it couldn’t be that bad.
Harris smirked. “That’s what I thought. Now sit down. There’s still an hour
left.”
Stiles would gladly punch him in the face. Several times. For now, he settled
on imagining the way Harris’ cheek would feel under his fist.
 
When he finally got out of detention, he was basically fuming with anger. The
rest of the hour had been equally frustrating, Harris making stabbing remarks
about his dad, throwing in a comment about how if his mom was still alive he
might have turned out better than he had. Stiles was surprised he hadn’t
attacked the man, but he hadn’t been unable to suppress the tears. He angrily
wiped at his eyes, even though they were dry now, and ran a hand through his
hair. He doubted he could get the scent of distress of his skin before getting
in Derek’s car, but he would damn well try.
It took him five minutes to realize Derek was driving his Jeep, since the
Camaro was still smashed against a tree in the preserve. He rolled his eyes as
he walked up to his baby, running a loving hand over her door before he pulled
it open and got inside. “Hey.”
“You’re late.” Derek glanced up from the book he was reading, and Stiles gave
him a small smile.
“Sorry. Detention.”
“That happens an awful lot.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Geez, are you now also my dad?”
When Derek raised an eyebrow, he groaned. “Sorry. It was a bad day, and Harris
gave me a hard time in detention.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“You were listening in?”
Derek shrugged, and closed the book. Stiles glanced at the title. The Catcher
in the Rye. Huh. “You were upset.”
“I’m upset a lot of times.”
“You are.” Derek muttered, as he started the car, making Stiles wince. “Careful
with my baby, Derek. You’re hurting her.”
“Then you know how it feels.” Derek’s voice was light, but it was still enough
to break through Stiles’ carefully put up exterior. He tried to hide it with a
shaky laugh, turning his face to the window so he could blink the tears away.
He couldn’t wait to get home and go slaughter some zombies on his Playstation.
He closed his eyes, and let the familiar grumbling of the jeep drown out his
thoughts. When the car came to a sudden stop - really, Derek was killing his
car - they weren’t in front of his house, but in the parking lot of his
favorite fast food restaurant. He frowned, opening his mouth to ask why they
were here, but Derek beat him to it. “Fast food makes you feel better.”
“It does, but…”
“Stiles.” Derek said, pausing as he opened the door and slid out of his seat.
“I know you think I don’t give a shit, but I do. You had a bad day, and as your
alpha it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
“Yeah right.” Stiles couldn’t help but mumble, when he got out the car.
Derek shut the door, walking over to Stiles and giving his shoulder a
comforting squeeze. “Come on. You can get the biggest portion of curly fries
and give me a detailed description of how you want to shred Harris to pieces.”
“Awesome.”
 
End Notes
     Orphaned with all the love. Goodbye buddy.
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