Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1799674.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Sheriff_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Chris
      Argent, Kate_Argent, Victoria_Argent, Mr._Harris, Lydia_Martin, Jackson
      Whittemore, Danny_Mahealani, Coach_Finstock
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Scenting, Marking, Underage_Sex,
      Starcrossed_Lovers, Angst, Gay_Sex, Male_Slash, Age_Difference, Slow
      Build
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-17 Updated: 2015-12-03 Chapters: 5/? Words: 7946
****** Smells Like Puppy Love ******
by aRedBaroness
Summary
     Sort of little red riding hood but not really. Set in an alternate
     universe version of season one. Stiles and his dad move to town
     around the same time as Derek who is back in town to avenge his
     family. Derek catches scent of Stiles in the woods and realizes it'll
     be hard to stay away from the teen. At the same time, when it becomes
     apparent they can't stay away from each other it becomes sort of a
     star-crossed situation. The Argents won't come for Derek if he leaves
     Stiles alone, but he can't and conflict ensues.
Notes
     So as mentioned above this is a kind of AU Season One. The focus is
     not on Scott becoming a werewolf and catching the Alpha, but instead
     it's about Derek coming to town to avenge his family. Him and his
     inner werewolf are distracted by the new Sheriff's son, Stiles and as
     much as they try to stay away from each other they can't. This breaks
     a fragile truce between the Argents and Derek as they have an
     agreement that they won't come after him if he doesn't recruit new
     pack members or mates. Poor Stiles is caught in the middle.
     Somewhat inspired by this amazing Red Riding Hood/Sterek fan vid.
     Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7Q2U6Bfw-A
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter 1
It really sucked starting over in a new town. Stiles always felt like he was
never ready for it. Never ready for the change. Why did his dad have to be so
good at his job. Yeah, it was kind of cool to be able to stroll into a new
school and be like, “Yeah my dad's the sheriff.” But at the same time, Sheriff
Stilinski (with Stiles' help – on the sly, of course) was entirely too
competent to play small town sheriff. It was this competency that had resulted
in their current predicament, every few years the higher ups in the chain of
command would decide to send Sheriff Stilinski to a different “problem” small
town to sort it out. Once a town, got cleaned up, all ship-shape as it were (a
process that usually took a couple years) the Stilinskis would be moving towns.
Stiles had lost track of how many school's he'd attended since the death of his
mother. Yeah, his mother was dead. His mother who had saddled him with the
worst possible first name. (Not that Stiles ever clued people into that closely
guarded piece of intel. Stiles had started doctoring his attendance record when
he was about ten to remove all references to his first name. Now when he rolled
into a new town and his permanent file – which he was proud to say was rather
hefty – finally showed up it really did say his name was Stiles Stilinski.)
He did forgive his late mother her poor taste in names. It had taken him longer
to get over forgive her the changes that came to his life as a result of her
untimely passing when he was eight or so. She had been sick and once his father
was out of that mourning period (the time neither Stilinski brought up, but
Stiles always called it the “danger zone” in his head, when his father's
drinking was more frequent), Stilinski the elder had taken a renewed interest
in police work. Officer Stilinski had lost himself in his work and it hadn't
been long before he'd received the honorable title of Sheriff and from that
point on it was only a matter of time before they were dispatched to a new
slice of small town Americana.
This time they were in Northern California, some place called Beacon Hills. It
was nice. Stiles had never been a big fan of the wet and often cold rain that
was the norm along the Oregon coast. They'd been in and around the smaller
cities that dotted the Oregon coast for the past four years or so. It was nice
to be somewhere warmer for a change. Unfortunately, it seemed that the trade
off for nicer weather was that special kind of hell – it was a smaller town, a
bit more red-necky, a bit further from the main highways, which meant there
would be jack all for Stiles to do here.
Stiles was not looking forward to run-ins with whichever kind of bullies ruled
Beacon Hills High School. He was sure to encounter them sooner or later. You
see Stiles usually had a problem in that regard, granted it was self inflicted
a degree, but at the same time he didn't see himself changing any time soon.
Stiles was blessed with intelligence and wit sure, but with it came the
handicaps of ADHD, a reckless impulsive nature and a loud, smart-ass mouth. It
was a killing combo. He couldn't abide high school thugs, he attracted their
attention, by sticking out loudly wherever he went and he despite his delicate
frame, he was unable to back down, close his mouth and escape an ass-whupping.
So he talked back and he took the blows that were dealt as a result. As much as
possible, he tried to hide any evidence of such scuffles from his dad, who
really didn't need the added worry and couldn't have helped anyone by stepping
in.
So yeah new town. They'd arrived late on Saturday. After roughly ten years of
frequent moves, they had unpacking down to a finely tuned art. It rarely took
longer than a day to unbox and set up. It was true, after a number of moves,
they'd also cut down on the amount of things they had to move and certainly the
precise and carefully planned nature of the packing also helped speed the
unpacking process, as everything was pretty meticulously labeled and organized.
It was much easier to set up a kitchen for instance if you didn't lose anything
and half to spend half the afternoon hunting through every single box
desperately seeking the coffee machine, Stilres knew this from experience and
the curse of a caffeine addiction.
Today was Monday. Despite Stiles' best efforts to the contrary he'd been to bed
late and now here he was lying in his new room awake well before the shrill
shriek of his alarm. He sighed. There was little point to staying here on his
bedspread cursing his general existence and counting the dots in the stucco of
his ceiling. Mondays at new schools were like band-aids, best to face them head
on, grit your teeth and rip them off immediately.
It barely took Stiles any time to throw some clothes together. He'd gone with
his red plaid flannel shirt and his most broken in jeans because it looked
overcast and this was one of his comfiest favorites and he might need that
today. He scarfed down his breakfast and gulped his coffee without really
registering the taste.
By the time Stiles was finished, the sun was just barely peeking through the
barren trees. It was still so early and Stiles was a ball of twitchy, now extra
caffeinated, nervous energy. Their house was not too far from the dry wintry
woods that surrounded Beacon Hills and Stiles figured a quick jaunt through the
wilderness might help him calm down a bit, so he could sit still in class.
(Well, Stiles was actually quite incapable of sitting still in class or
anywhere else for that matter, but he liked to try to keep the fidgeting to a
minimum as much as possible),
So Stiles headed down the road to the dead end and then he continued into the
tree line. The air was crisp and cool on his darkening cheeks. The vivid hues
his skin took on in the lightest of chills was downright embarrassing.
Thankfully, at this time in the morning there would be no one to notice.
Stiles was enjoying crunching his boots aimlessly in the dry leaves when he
heard it. It was startling in the early quiet of the woods. There was a
definite rustling in the bushes ahead of him and whatever it was it sounded a
lot bigger than a rabbit. Stiles stopped and listened, but he just heard his
own pants for breath, deafening in the silence. He looked around frantically,
doe eyes growing rounder and rounder as he searched for the source of the
sound. He rubbed his hands through the stubble on the back of his neck, he only
did that when he was nervous. “Calm down, Stiles,” he muttered to the leaves.
“Get a grip on yourself, if there is something out there it's a deer about to
have a heart attack at the sound of your stomping through its territory.” But
he didn't really believe himself.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Derek always liked to run in the mornings. He didn't have much to do, since
he'd returned to Beacon Hills. Yeah, he had rather other things on his mind,
things like figuring out who the hell murdered his most of his family in a
fiery blaze all those years ago and who had then come back years later to
“finish the job,” by savagely murdering and mutilating his older sister, Laura.
Someone had cut her in half and buried her to draw him back into town,
presumably.
Derek was snapped back into the present by the feeling of wood splinters
gouging into his nails. Evidently, thinking of his family's killers had caused
him to dig his hands into the rough, blackened old dining room table he'd been
sitting at. Yeah okay it was weird, but Derek lived in the charred remains of
his family home. It didn't feel right to be anywhere else while he settled this
score on their behalf. Also, there was that slight problem of being a prime-ish
suspect in his sister and subsequently his family's deaths. He did have to
admit that to an outside observer his status as nearly sole survivor of the
Hale line in the wake of a wave of violent deaths was definitely suspicious.
But at the same time, he was furious that the initial incident, the fire had
not been investigated more closely and had been written up as a tragic, freak
accident. Nine people had perished (a good portion of them children) and one
person had been so severely burned that he'd ended up catatonic and only Derek
and Laura because they'd been out at the time had walked away unscathed. Surely
that sort of “accident” with that high body count warranted a more detailed
investigation. Those damned stupid, lazy small town cops that just didn't want
the harder work and greater paper work that came with actually investigating
crimes in a thorough fashion.
Derek took several deep breaths in attempt to calm himself and the beast
within. No he wasn't being figurative. Derek was now one of the very last
werewolves in the Hale line. He did have an “inner beast” so to speak and
sometimes it did try to take the reigns. Derek was not about to let it control
him. He was all about discipline and control. It was a necessary skill to have
if one wanted to avenge the senseless deaths of almost their entire family and
Derek had certainly mastered it.
He liked to run in the mornings and get some of that primal energy out. It was
good to go before there would be the added risk that people might be out and
about in the woods. It was always best to go before the sun got very serious
about being up and making it warmer.
Today, Derek couldn't shake an odd feeling. It was a shivery excitement that
bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and raced along the ridges of his spine.
It excited him and spurred him on. He had this feeling that something was
coming, that today despite his rotten streak of luck was going to good, better
than good even, maybe as good as excellent.
Derek had left the burned out husk of his family home in very little clothes to
accommodate his preference to run around half-wolfed. He was just in worn jeans
and his muscled torso had taken a slight sheen from running around. He'd barely
gone twenty yards from his property when he caught the scent. It stopped him in
his tracks.
It was like nothing Derek had smelled before and it smelled amazing. It was
sharp and clean, sort of verdant and green, like sunshine on leaves. But
underneath that there was a hint of something warm and a bit tart like a lemon
that had been toasted for some reason. And it was so complex and intoxicating
that Derek couldn't help starting to track it. The wolf was riding him hard now
and driving him in the direction of the edge of the forest in the pursuit of
that intriguing scent.
It was winding through his head and nostrils as he got closer to the source and
Derek felt like he didn't really have time to slow down or get more stealthy
with his movements. His fangs felt heavier in his mouth and his body felt
taught as a hair trigger, quivering with excitement. He was surprised to find
himself beginning to get aroused as well. The smell was some kind of natural
pheremone maybe? But Derek didn't really give that much thought because that
delightful warm, leafy, lemon-y something that was responsible for that
delectable smell was oh-so close now.
Derek stopped abruptly in some tall bushes and tilted his head back gulping and
scenting the air. It was just ahead of him on the path. He panted a little then
and it took almost more control than he had to peer through the dead leaves at
the source.
Damn it. That delightful odor was a boy. Derek wanted to hit something and dunk
himself in the cold stream. It was just a stupid boy with soft features, whose
skin was rather luminous in the early morning light. The skin that he could see
was tantalizingly flecked with dark beauty marks in random constellations that
Derek had a powerful urge to trace with his tongue. This was ridiculous. That
was a teenager and a young-ish one by the looks of things. And Derek was nearly
21 and he shouldn't want to burst out of the underbrush and pin that boy to the
ground and rub himself all over him just to bathe in that smell and see those
golden eyes get even bigger. Now that he was closer, Derek could tell that the
boy was nervous about something, it was there in irregular staccato of his
heart beats, the fine sheen of sweat beading on his soft, plush-looking upper
lip. Oh god. It occurred to Derek that clean note in the smell meant that this
youth was untouched. And Derek had to bite back a growl. He absently shoved his
hands in his jeans roughly adjusting his now throbbing cock.
Damn stupid, delectable looking virgin. That pale neck looked soft, like it
would yield easily under his fangs. That kid had know right to stumble into his
woods looking like that, smelling like that. It made the hair at the back of
Derek's neck abruptly stand to attention.
Without even really thinking about Derek crashed out of his hiding place, his
face set in a deep frown. The kid just stood there, stock still as he
approached. Even as Derek pushed his way into his personal space, he didn't run
or flinch. Just stood there blinking, gaping like a fish.
This time Derek did growl. Right out loud, right in that dumb face. The kid
still didn't budge. Though he did seem to be putting more of an effort into
saying something if those gasping squeaks were anything to go by.
“Get out!” Derek said through tightly clenched teeth. “This is private
property. You're trespassing.”
The kid's golden gaze met his and Derek thought he saw some defiance there.
Some fire burning brightly in the black of those pupils. The red plaid
shoulders were definitely squaring themselves and the kid was pushing back.
Pushing his body into Derek's space.
“Didn't see any signs.” The voice was dry and deadpan. It was only the smell
that gave away the underlying fear. The missed heartbeats were also a clue.
Derek stepped forward. He almost choked, being that close to that smell, but
tried to breathe more through his mouth. He made sure his face gave nothing
away. “Get out,” growled again. He was aware of the heat that reminded him
their foreheads were scant inches from touching. He could also tell that the
wolf was excited by the prospect of this frightened rabbit-y seeming person
that wanted to challenge him. The wolf seemed to think it would be fun to make
this young buck submit. Force this pup to roll over and show him that pale
belly. It definitely liked the idea.
But Derek was using all his discipline to keep that beast in check. He just
stared into those golden orbs, refusing to blink or back down. The kid did have
very thick lashes for a boy. Derek dug his claws into his thigh a bit, the pain
centering his control. The kid did blink and look away first.
Derek could hear the kid mumble something that sounded like “grumpy Adonis.
Ruining my day...” as he turned tail and left. It made him chuckle a bit.
Before he was struck by the gravity of this problem. It would be no good to
know that there was delicious, sumptuous boy-treat running around in his woods
this close to the full moon. This could be very dangerous for all involved.
***** Chapter 2 *****
What a morning! Stiles never would have guessed his day would begin with gruff,
growly threats from some cologne model in the middle of the woods behind his
house. Man, he had all the luck. He also kind of had a problem brewing in his
shorts and this point and he really didn't have so much time to deal with it
before he had to get his punk ass to school. Think about gross things Stiles.
Think about pus-filled infected wounds, your old math teacher's S&M heavy
dating profile, geriatric sexy times. It was tough, but eventually Stiles did
get 'lil Stiles under control. The icy run-off that counted as a spring had
helped as well when he'd splashed a bit down his pants.
Then Stiles was practically running, very awkwardly like a newborn fawn unsure
of how to work its own legs back to his Jeep. He was rapidly running out of
time to make it Beacon Hills High without the Damocles' sword of lateness and
detention hanging over his newly razored scalp. Wouldn't that just be the best
way to make an impression on a new principal, roll up hella late to his first
day. Damn growly, handsome strangers that he wanted to climb like a tree
distracting him on such an important day. And to hell with always having to
contend with not pissing off a new school's administrator. One day, Stiles
would like to stick somewhere long enough to develop a punch-clock arch nemesis
sort of relationship with the vice principal. You know the kind of sitcom style
mischievous hero and straight-laced rule enforcer that were so used to each
other they were able to have an easy banter about it. Something like “That's
funny Mr. Stilinski, I bet that you'd be able to keep out of my office until at
least Wednesday.” That type of dry sarcasm with his detention-dealer had little
chance of happening though with the way his dad's career path was going.
When Stiles did finally roll up at the aforementioned high school, he had about
five minutes to spare and it was relatively easy to slide into his home room
without attracting the kind of attention that led to after school special extra
curricular activities. All in all, as far as first days went it was kind of
standard.
Stiles' inability to employ common sense or keep his big fat mouth shut did not
endear him to either the teachers or the more popular jock/bully set. On the
plus side, he did appear to make friends rather easily with the dopey-looking
lacrosse player that sat behind him in home room, named Scott McCall. Seriously
though, that kid was kind of simple. You wouldn't believe the kind of remarks
that went over his tousled brown head in their various shared classes. More
than once Stiles had been sure that dyed-in-the-wool douche-saurus rex,
Jackson, was going to deck Scott right in his scrunched up eyebrows. On the
other hand, maybe Jackson was only holding back because it would be like
slapping a puppy in the face. Even raging douche-sauruses were reluctant to
stoop that low, Stiles was sure.
Scott was pretty easy to talk to. Under his simpleton and semi-attractive (yes,
in a completely platonic way, Stiles could tell he was easy on the eyes)
exterior Scott was really just a giant nerd. They liked the same brain-
mushifying video games and they got into a few semi-heated arguments regarding
superheroes. Stiles could tell this would be a fast and easy friendship for the
two of them. It was like this Scott kid was just waiting for a loud mouth spaz,
like Stiles to come along and shake up his world with the awesome powers of
friendship.
Stiles did admit though there was one subject he could foresee he'd always be
trying to avoid with Scott for the better part of their future buddy-ship,
Allison. Stiles didn't know what kind of drugs that Argent chick mixed into her
perfume that seemed to target Scott specifically, but if the subject of her
ever came up, it only took about five minutes for Stiles' eyes to start glazing
over and him to start searching for a dramatic mode of suicide to get himself
out of the conversation. For the love of sweet skateboarding Jesus, the topic
of the exact shade of her (pretty standard coloured, in Stiles' opinion) brown
eyes should not be the starting point for an hours worth of meaningless
contemplation. Shut up already Scott, grow an extra pair of balls and ask the
broad out already will ya, for the sake of Stiles' sanity.
During the approximately three hours of enthusiastic devotion to all things
Allison, Stiles couldn't help his mind (and other parts of his anatomy) from
wandering back to the topic of Mr. Growly Bear that he had met while
trespassing in the woods this morning. He had pretty much decided that he would
be trespassing in that area as much as possible for the remainder of his stay
in this Californian armpit of a town. He wanted to see that scruffy frown as
much as possible thank you very much.
In fact, Stiles went to far as to interrupt Scott's animated discussion of
Allison's choice in scented lipgloss to ask Scott about the incident. “So,
Scott, my man, there's all these big ass woods around my place, is it true that
they're some kind of private property or something?”
Scott took some long slow blinks. Stiles sort of worried about the state of his
new pal's mind if a simple change in topic could unsettle him this much.
Scott's brow did that furrow thing that seemed to indicate deep concentration
on his part. “The woods aren't exactly off limits...” he said slowly and
carefully as if unsure how to phrase his answer.
“But??” Stiles interjected flailing his arms in an indication that Scott should
finish his damn thought.
“But, there's this um family. I mean there was this family that kind of, sort
of, mostly owned a lot of them. They kind of all died, I guess. Err. I mean
most of them died, it was this big tragedy when I was little. I know a couple
of them made it out and one of them just plumb went nutso, so I'm not really
sure how much the whole 'don't go in there' thing is enforced these days, but
I'd stay out of it.” He stopped and stared at Stiles, clearly the effort of
stringing all those coherent sentences had got to him at least a little bit.
“Oh.” Stiles really didn't know what to say to that. I mean, that all made it
sound like that if he continued to frequent the forest he would be abusing some
broken up orphans or tragic anti-heroes or something. That didn't mean he
wasn't going back there though.
Scott seemed relieved that Stiles didn't have much to add to that and he seemed
to view it as the perfect opportunity to return to his topic of choice, the
angel formerly known as Allison. This time he was discussing the subtle nuances
that could be gleaned from the shy introduction she'd given Scott and by
extension the entire home room this morning.
This left Stiles back where he had been, tuning out his new bosom buddy in
favour of contemplating his own vision of perfection, the one with angry eyes
that loomed large clad in a bitchin' leather jacket. Mmmm. What would it be
like to feel that dark stubble scrape across your neck, he wondered? What would
that frowny face even look like if it relaxed into a smile? Maybe this was why
Stiles was destined to be besties with Scott, they had similar problems with
unattainable, obsessive crushes based on extremely limited interactions...
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter 3
Damn that stupid leafy lemon-scented kid to all kinds of hell. His damn
delicious smell was wafting all over this damn town. Christ on a bicycle, it
was like the teen had rubbed his stupid perfumed self over every inch of the
place. True, Derek ventured into town, but rarely, but by some cursed
coincidence of events he had to stock up on the few personal items, supplies
and luxuries he allowed himself today before the full moon. Now it seemed a
simple stroll down the sparse grocery aisle of his local gas station
convenience store was an exercise in ignoring the faint traces of that boy.
It was too damn much. Derek deserved to be able to shop in peace (though you
could hardly call a gas station store run grocery shopping really). He was in a
right mood by the time he approached the clerk. It must have shown on his face,
the clerk was shifty and jumpy, it looked like he had a hand hovering over the
emergency alarm button under the counter. As if Derek was going to hold up a
gas station for some milk, deodorant, toothpaste, a magazine, tortilla chips
and instant noodles. Nobody did that. Derek cut the guy a break though and made
sure to do everything in his power to speed the purchasing process along.
Later after he had put away his sparse purchases in his slightly scorched
larder, Derek was grinding his teeth on the verge of the wolfing out for no
damn reason. What was he supposed to do this moon if the entire area was
lightly spritzed with eau de jailbait? If his wolf got a whiff of that, the
next day he'd be dealing with a highly traumatized teen that had been humped by
a wolf. (To be honest, smelling like that a humping was probably the least of
that boy's worries.)
Some dark part of Derek managed to convince his more logical side that the only
sensible way to deal with situation would be to map out that boy's general
territory. It would mean spending the rest of the day obsessively stalking that
green toasty citrus scent all across town and probably finding his house. That
tiny little Derek of good reason was smacking his naughty side up side the head
with a book made of the many reasons that was a terrible course of action, but
he silenced that little Derek of reason, forcibly. He was going to find out
where to avoid at all costs, that was all.
Derek was full of excitement as he ran toward town, half-wolfed. The wind in
the leaves and in his furry mutton chops was seemed brimming with promise. Once
on the outskirts of town he began tracking the boy. It took him very little
time to figure out that he lived on the edge of town himself, all too close to
the Hale woods. His house had only the smell of an older man, probably his
father, marring its overwhelming purity.
He could hardly help himself from clambering up to the second story to get a
creeper's eye view of the teen's bedroom. The window was even open like a
blatant taunting tease. Pure undiluted sunshine leaves and warm lemon drifted
out on the breeze. It was too inviting for Derek to pass up. He was cursing his
own weakness and stupidity even as he ducked in the window. The room was
nothing special, exactly what you'd expect for a kid his age. Maybe a few more
books and complex ones too than you might expect, but otherwise the room was
distressingly average. It was only the occupant of said room that was
extraordinary.
And oh that smell. It was everywhere. It was the air in the room, thick, hot
and cloying. That big bed was the worst though. The smell was more concentrated
there for obvious reasons. Oh god. Derek could sense a slight change in the
scent there, a spike of lust that meant the boy had had some fun times with his
hand recently.
Derek practically hurled himself out the window then. What the hell was he
doing? Stalking a teenage boy on day of the full moon that's what he was doing.
Sneaking in the boy's window like a goddamn creeper. Breaking and entering
Derek, really. And for what? A way to rub his nose in the scent that had been
haunting him all day?
He was disgusted that he'd ever believed that this was a viable plan. Now he
knew where to stay away from, but he had also just lead the wolf right to
little red riding hood's bedroom for god's sake. Yeah, that would go well, no
doubt.
The sun was high over him and his shame. Derek wondered what time it was? He
was racking his brain trying to remember when the hardware store closed on a
weekday. He might have to actually stoop so low as to go back to chaining
himself up on the full moon like a goddamn wolfman in a scary movie. Creeping
teenage bedrooms, what was he a sparkly vampire? Stupid, Derek, so stupid.
He was fuming as he ran back home. He was going faster than he normally did
too, the blur of the trees was starting to make him dizzy. It was cathartic
though, the running anyway. Derek was doing his darnedest to put the reason for
it right out of his mind. He would run home, away from his problems and
desires. He would drive into town, cross his fingers that no whiskey-eyed teens
had visited the hardware store recently and look for a solution to his little
control problem. Though truth be told it was shaping up to be a rather big,
hard control problem.
Give a wolf, a whiff of an aphrodisiac scented teen and certain issues started
to rise. Before you knew it, you'd be running back to said teen's house against
all reason to jack it behind the tree outside his house. Yes, that's right
Derek was marking his territory sexy style so to speak in broad daylight within
full view of any nosy neighbours that cared to look. It was an itch scratched
that gave his wolf great satisfaction evidently and it was all he could do not
to howl as he came right on the bark of the tree. Yeah, any wolf in the area,
werewolf or no, would know there was something up with this house and its
occupants. It was one way to declare possession. Derek was not proud of it. He
fully intended to put the entire incident out of his mind, chalk it up to pre-
moon madness, totally not his fault, could have happened to any wolf. That was
his story and he was sticking to it. Wild rabbits couldn't drag it from him.
What the hell was he going to do tonight? Leave town? Could hardware store
chains really contain stupefying, maddening desire this strong? Derek
unfortunately had no choice, but to find out. He hoped for his sake and for the
sake of that pale kid that they could hold him. Otherwise, otherwise well who
knows. He'd be making that hunter's job damn easy that's for sure. Yeah, there
were werewolf hunters in this town. They were just itching, their trigger-
fingers were anyway, for any kind of excuse to come after them. Derek wondered
where their code landed on human/werewolf intimate relations. He bet it wasn't
so keen on those at all. The punishment for such an offense probably wasn't
death either, werewolf neutering maybe. His balls clenched right up at that
disturbing thought. He was oh-so royally screwed. He prayed that if there was a
God up there, he'd forget his sense of humour for Derek and his balls' well
being. He didn't deserve to have this hanging over his head. No one did.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Derek was nervous and excited at the same time. He could feel the moon
thrumming and pulsing just under his skin, setting his veins ablaze. He was a
bit worried about what would become of that enticing-smelling teen he had met
in the forest that morning when the wolf took over. Would he be able to rein in
the impulse to hunt down his potential mate or would he awaken tomorrow next to
a frightened, cum-soaked boy?
It wouldn't be long now. Derek could feel the itch of the impending change now.
His conscious mind was dimming down, becoming more feral, more wolfish. His
sense of human concepts like morality and accountability was fast becoming a
distant incomprehensible memory. He could feel his fangs drop and fur beginning
to form beneath his hide. He dropped to his knees at the pain of his face bones
shifting as his brow ridge became more prominent. The fur along his cheeks was
bursting out and he howled knowing the transformation was nearly complete.
Derek's claws were the last change to come bursting violently from his
fingertips.
The wolf took in his surroundings. Everything was sort of hazy and red-tinged.
The ground beneath his paws felt hard and artificial. The world smelled of
charred wood and faded fear. The wolf disliked this place. It smelled deathly
and it felt like old sorrows. He had lost his pack here and while it was indeed
his den still, he felt loathe to remain here any longer. The wolf needed to
run, to chase, to hunt.
With a final earth shaking howl, the wolf bolted out through the open door and
launched itself into the dark woods. The moon was bright and full and he could
here the distant rustling of small tasty woodland creatures.
The wolf wasn't hungry per se, but it wanted to hunt. To run and chase down its
prey. It did have a new mate to consider after all. The wolf's mate was skinny
and waif-ish. The little pup had smelled of vegetation, he would be a good
provider and bring his scrawny mate a tasty, meaty morsel to fill his belly. He
might even be inclined to bring his mate a brace of fresh rabbits to fatten him
up and make him strong.
The wolf paused, scenting for his prey. There, less than a mile away was a full
rabbit burrow. He bolted off in the direction of the bunnies, snapping his jaws
and drooling a little.
The rabbits were pretty easy to catch. The last bunny had given the wolf a bit
of a trouble, but it was over after a quick chase. Stupid bunnies, they had
still been fat and sluggish from sleeping through the winter months. Easy prey.
The wolf was very proud of himself, a mouth full of tasty treats for his mate.
He jogged through the woods to the home of his intended. Oh the smell of his
little virgin mate was lush. He howled again for the sheer joy of it. How he
longed to find his mate and rub his fur against them until their scents mixed.
As the wolf neared his mate's dwelling, he was all too aware of his own
arousal. His engorged member was nearly dripping fluid, leaving a trail behind
him. He did long to find his mate and sate his lust, but he could tell that the
young pup was locked up tight on the uppermost floor of the dwelling.
So the wolf merely laid the bunnies as an offering on the front steps. He did
indulge himself a bit though. He paused a while to mark each bit of shrubbery
around the dwelling, so other wolves and creatures of the night would know to
stay away.
Satisfied in accomplishing his mission, the wolf bounded off into the forest.
The eve was still young and he would make the most of it. Get a good run in,
before he returned to his den for dawn. He hoped his mate would be pleased with
his gifts and recognize that he was a good, strong provider and a worthy
candidate of his affections.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
 
Stiles awoke with a groan. Another school day, another day of dull lessons and
a difficult battle to keep himself from pissing off too many of his teachers
lay ahead. He sighed and got ready. 'Just four more days of this hell and then
it's the weekend,' he tried to reassure himself.
When he was dressed and suitably caffienated, that is to say incredibly over-
caffienated he opened the front door and shrieked. Stiles slammed the door shut
and tried to get a hold of himself. Someone or something had left four dead
bunnies on his front steps. What the heck! If this was some kind of sick joke,
it was completely uncalled for. And if some wild beastie was responsible for
this, again wtf! Why would an animal leave dead rabbits on his front step?
Stiles could hear pounding steps racing down the stairs. Darn it all to hell,
he'd woken his father who had been recovering from the late night shift.
"Stiles. What's wrong?" Sheriff Stilinski asked still rubbing the sleep from
his eyes.
"Oh nothing. I was just a bit shocked to see the dead rabbits that some sick
bastard left on our porch this morning."
"WHAT?!"
The sheriff pushed Stiles aside and opened the door to see for himself. He
stared at the rabbits for a bit and nudged one with the edge of his slipper. It
just flopped over revealing more of the blood and fang marks on its throat.
"What the hell, Stiles!" Sheriff Stilinksi exclaimed after shutting the door
again.
"You just automatically assume this is my fault!" Stiles said, his face all
scrunched up in anger. "Look Dad, I'm just as bewildered as you are. I got no
clue why someone would leave a family of dead thumpers on our porch either."
The sheriff sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm sorry son. Just be
careful today will ya? And text me if you get any more unusual 'gifts' or any
other threats."
"Yeah sure, Dad. Sorry to wake you up," Stiles said softly. " I uh, better go
before I'm late for school." He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and
opened the door, stepping gingerly over the rabbits.
Yes, Stiles could tell this day was going to be excellent. But surely, it
couldn't get any worse than murdered bunnies right? Just his luck.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Morning after the full moon, aftermath and confrontation. WTF!
     Rabbits, why?
Chapter 5
When Derek woke up in the woods he was relieved to see, there was no seductive
smelling traumatized teen anywhere near him. Granted he wasn't far from that
little, gutsy, mole-enhanced kid's house, and he did have the distinct taste of
hare's blood caught in his teeth. He was actually almost used to finding animal
blood and fur in his teeth. The taste barely gave him pause. It was something
else that did it.
A memory slowly emerging from the wolfish fog in his head.
A brace of bunnies laid on the doorstep of the wolf's “mate.” Mate, seriously.
God damn it, wolf! Statutory laws may not exist in the animal world, but they
sure as heck existed in the human one, along with all associated documentation
and permanent records.
Besides Derek huffed as he began the trek back to the burned out shell of his
ancestral home, he'd seen that tasty smelling morsel for like fifteen minutes
maybe. Wasn't mateship based on more than that. Pheremones were well and good,
but surely there was more to it than that. I mean yes, even Derek couldn't deny
the fact that the little rabbit-hearted kid stood up to him was hot as hell,
but that was besides the point.
Derek did manage to make the jaunt back to his home without anyone catching him
in his birthday suit. It was still early after all. But all the same, he was
barely shoved into a fresh-ish pair of jeans when he smelt something alarming.
A toasty, leafy lemon-y smelling teenager. He growled under his breath. What
the wolf had done was bad enough, it hardly needed any extra baiting from this
unruly pup.
Derek didn't wait. He just yanked open the front door, making it creak
ominously. That verboten boy stood there, he was doing the gawping fish routine
again. It was frustrating. It was enticing, those pale, thin lips looked soft,
plush, rather inviting really.
Get a grip, wolf boy! “What you want?” Derek tried to say it, but the gruff
growly quality barely made it words. He repeated it more quickly.
Like a GIF freshly loaded, the teen sprang into a series of motions. There was
some flailing, but at least the lips were closed. For now anyway. Surely, the
windmill of motion was working up to something audible.
“What the helll, dude!”
Derek didn't get this. I mean yes, the flushed anger lent those pale, mole-
dappled cheeks an attractive colour and the choler in his manner seemed to
enhance that entrancing smell, but what was the boy even talking about. He
raised his brows to signal, the boy hadn't revealed anything he understood.
The flailing seemed to have a more exasperated quality to it. I mean the kid
hit his head on the door frame once. Finally, after he leaned back from the
wall, those whiskey eyes took on a resigned quality and a single word was
ground out. The boys teeth were almost clenched to tight for him to understand
it, thank god for wolf-y hearing. “Rabbits!”
Derek blinked. How the heck was he found this soon. It wasn't like the wolf man
left a note.
Before Derek, realized his intent, the boy had reached out and slapped him
half-heartedly across what would be his muzzle. Like he was a bad dog. It got
his hackles right up, this time his growl was not under his breath at all.
“Rabbits!” This time it was more enunciated. Spit was flying everywhere in
sight. It looked like the kid was gearing up to really hit him this time.
Derek caught the wrist just in time. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Damn. That didn't even sound convincing to Derek. There was a bit too much
teeth (fangs) to it. Not enough indignation. Also, grabbing the wrist had done
him no good. It only brought fresh new danger. The kid had over-balanced and
now was nearly flush against his bare chest. Even if he wasn't a werewolf, he'd
be able to hear his heart. It was definitely doing double time now. That pretty
pink flush was spreading too. Spreading to where was the question, Derek wanted
answered.
“Bullshit, buddy. I just got here yesterday. Yes, I'm obnoxious. Yes, I'm every
bully's favourite mouthy ass chew toy, but guess what. They don't know me well
enough to terrorize me yet. Just wait. They'll get there.”
The kid had seemed all ballsy and loud and indignant about it. Then he seemed
to realize what he said. He just seemed to melt down into Derek's chest in
shame.
It was definitely not helping Derek's overwhelming attraction to him. The kid
needed comfort. The wolf would be all too happy to nuzzle him, give him some
licks and puppy pile cuddles. Also, it seemed this guy was laugh out loud
funny. A guffaw now and he'd lose all hope of ever intimidating the teen.
Before Derek had come up with a plausible response his chest was suddenly
colder. The boy had jumped back, appropriately embarrassed to have been caught
using Derek for physical comfort. Derek missed him already.
“I mean what the hell man, those were bunnies. Bunnies.” The boy was back in
his face whispering. His breath smelled sweet, like fresh morning donuts.
“They had it coming.” What. Why on earth did he let himself say that. What kind
of defence was that. He was still supposed to be presenting a view of de-Nile.
He'd given too easily.
“What were you even trying to say?” The kid was back to normal volume now and
back in his own space across the scant few feet of porch left. “Were you trying
to scare me? Is this how Californian kids bully each other now, not on
Snapchat, but with dead wild life? Omigod! You're not going to kill me are
you?” His eyes were chasing themselves all around Derek's face as if it held
all the clues.
“I can't promise I won't.” Derek absent-mindedly scrubbed a hand through the
short hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just trying to apologize. You looked
like you needed more protein or something.” God. This was the worst cover story
ever. Also, it was a bit too close to his actual reasons for him to be
comfortable with it. At least, this least plausible excuse ever seemed to stun
the kid into silence and keep in his own space.
“What.”
“You heard.”
“I'll have you know that there's nothing wrong with my size. Not all of us came
fresh from the GQ gym. Some of us are perfectly average sized teenagers. I mean
how are you not photoshopped.” The kid did not seem to be aware yet of his hand
trailing Derek's abs. It did feel nice though. And the wolf was fairly howling.
His mate thought he was well-muscled and attractive.
The kid suddenly jerked back his hand as if burned. He stared at it google-eyed
for a minute before continuing his mad rant. “Dead rabbits! Who even does
that!”
“It was meant as an apology.” Derek ground out.
“How. In what world, is dead bunnies some sort of apologetic gesture? How was I
supposed to even know they were from you and not some sort of mafia threat?” He
paused. Something was dawning there, in that fast-moving face if the way his
eyebrows seemed to climb up to the heavens was any indication. “How did you
know where I live?” The question was slower. But then he resumed speed. “I had
to do a bit of research to find this place, the city archive security is
terrible. Update your website guys, nobody uses Geocities anymore. I mean I
know you're an archive and everything, but you don't need an antique website
too.”
Derek just shrugged. He had no reasonable answer for these questions. There was
no reasonable answer for these questions, there was only what had happened.
“Fine. If we're going to be dead animal friends, I'll need to know your name.
Stiles.” A hand was thrust out toward Derek. Was Stiles a first name, a last
name, an unfortunate nickname, the cool new street drug?
“Derek.” He took the hand. What else was there to do at this point. He just
stood there, shaking that hand for a stupid amount of time.
“Late! School! Only my second day!” The hand and the leafy, lemony kid attached
to it withdrew and rabbited right off what was left of his porch. The kid was
running up the lane and it took all of Derek's willpower not to chase it.
Running away from a horny wolf, you might as well stick a target on your lubed
up ass and say “First come, first serve.” Stiles. Stiles. So that was a Stiles.
He didn't buy Derek's explanation, but at least he didn't have time to press
him for the truth. And Derek didn't have to worry about the kid finding out
about the rabbits. Kid was smarter than he looked.
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