Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4815809.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Minor_or_Background_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Erica_Reyes, Vernon_Boyd, Lydia_Martin,
      Jackson_Whittemore, Isaac_Lahey, Danny_Mahealani, Allison_Argent, Scott
      McCall, Kira_Yukimura, Cora_Hale, Bobby_Finstock, Melissa_McCall, Jordan
      Parrish, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha_Derek_Hale, Derek_is_a_Good_Alpha, Beta_Scott_McCall, Magical
      Stiles_Stilinski, Pack_Mother_Stiles_Stilinski, Werewolf_Danny_Mahealani,
      Isaac_Lahey_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort,
      Rimming, Oral_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Top_Derek_Hale/Bottom_Stiles
      Stilinski, Anal_Sex, Knotting, Making_Love, Dom/sub_Undertones, Multiple
      Orgasms, Scent_Marking, Deepthroating, Possessive_Sex, Dirty_Talk,
      Biting, Come_Eating, Come_as_Lube, Butt_Plugs, Shower_Sex, Breeding_Kink,
      Come_Inflation, Underage_Drinking, Jock_Straps, Body_Worship, Armpit
      Kink, Gym_Sex, Riding, Witches, Family_Secrets, Car_Sex, Face-Fucking,
      Felching, Bathing/Washing, Dubious_Consent, Misunderstandings, Past_Kate
      Argent/Derek_Hale, Derek_Gets_Therapy, Face-Sitting, Watersports, Urine
      Drinking, BAMF_Stiles, Blood_Magic, Temporary_Character_Death, Full_Shift
      Werewolves, BAMF_Derek, Happy_Ending
  Series:
      Part 2 of Smouldering_Hearts
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-17 Completed: 2016-03-10 Chapters: 25/25 Words: 260706
****** There's Magic Between You and I ******
by halcyon1993
Summary
     After the disaster that was junior year, Stiles is more than ready to
     finish his last year of high school and move on to college. He splits
     his time between his studies, taking care of the pack—well and truly
     blossoming into his new role as the alpha's mate—and training his
     powers with Deaton. At the same time he learns shocking secrets about
     his heritage, strange things start happening around town and to the
     pack themselves, and he finds himself in a race to save everyone when
     a new evil arrives and threatens to destroy everything he loves.
Notes
     I recommend reading Burn_Me_Until_There’s_Nothing_Left before
     starting this, as some of the stuff here probably won’t make sense
     otherwise. Also, expect a lot of sex in the first half, and the story
     doesn't really get going until the second.
     I'm acting as my own beta, so any mistakes are my own.
***** Homecoming *****
- Sunday, August 5th, 2012 -
Stiles stares out of the window of Derek's Camaro, watching the trees blur past
as the alpha in the seat next to him drives them back to Beacon Hills. The sun
hangs low in the sky, signalling that the day is almost at its end. He has
mixed feelings about being back in his home town.
On one hand, he's happy because he knows he'll be reunited with all of his pack
again very soon, but on the other, it means the end of summer vacation and the
start of senior year, tomorrow being the very first day. The back seat of the
car is piled high with all of their luggage. Stiles still remembers how
surprised he'd been when, seemingly out of the blue, the alpha had presented
him with a pair of plane tickets and a week-long reservation in a ludicrously
expensive hotel right in the middle of New York City. When he'd asked what the
occasion was, Derek had just said that he thought he deserved something special
before the stress of school started back up again, cutting off all further
questions with a long and passionate kiss. After bidding a somewhat tearful
goodbye to the rest of the pack—Isaac was particularly sullen about their
departure—Derek had shepherded him right onto the plane, flying first class for
the first time in his life. It had been quite an experience.
After they'd landed, Derek had taken them straight to their hotel to get
situated and they'd spent the rest of the day familiarising themselves with
their temporary lodgings. During the week, Derek had shown him around as much
of New York as he could, the alpha knowing about it all from the years he'd
lived there with Laura after the fire. It was the first time Stiles had been
anywhere outside of California for longer than a day and he could hardly stop
smiling and clinging to Derek the entire time.
From the nearly identical smile on the alpha's face, Stiles didn't think he
minded.
The trips to Times Square, the Empire State Building and Liberty Island were
just some of the highlights. Each night was spent cuddled up beneath the
incredibly soft sheets in their hotel room, ordering room service and binge-
watching bad television on Netflix; they'd been too tired out at the end of
each day to do anything more.
Stiles is pulled out of his reminiscing when Derek speaks up next to him.
"You still want to stop off at the cemetery on the way home?" Derek asks,
glancing sideways at Stiles when he pulls the Camaro to a stop at a red light.
He greatly enjoyed his trip back to NYC, likening it to taking a stroll down
memory lane; each new place he took Stiles came with memories from when Laura
did the same for him years ago after they moved away from Beacon Hills and left
the fire that took out the rest of their family behind them. He'd gotten swept
up in the teen's enthusiasm, seeing the place through fresh eyes again. Even
though he'd missed his pack deeply while they were there, he figures it was
worth it purely just to see that constant smile back on Stiles' face. He hasn't
seen the teen grin like that in what seems like forever, and it's nice to know
that he can help bolster his mate's spirits so much.
Stiles lifts his head up from where he'd been leaning it on his palm, his elbow
having been resting on the rim of the window. He looks over at Derek and nods,
offering a small smile. "Yeah, I still want to," he confirms, planning on
visiting his parents' graves while he has the time.
It's something he's done every month since his mother died, but he missed his
usual visit while he was vacationing with Derek. "Can you swing by the florists
first before we go? I want to get a couple of bouquets to bring with me." He's
happy when Derek hums his acceptance, the alpha doing a u-turn since they'd
already passed their new destination several minutes ago. When Derek pulls the
car to a stop on the curb outside of the florists, he pulls the parking brake
up and immediately hops out of the car, following Stiles inside the shop.
They're lucky; another half an hour and it would've already closed.
Derek trails along after his mate like a lost puppy, giving his opinion when
several different bunches of flowers are shoved under his nose. He sneezes a
couple of times when the pollen irritates his sensitive nostrils. In the end,
he watches as Stiles ends up choosing two bouquets of white lilies. He's left
dumbfounded when his mate asks him whether he wants to get anything to bring to
his own family while they're there. The thought never even occurred to him, but
he guesses that another visit to the Hale mausoleum is long overdue. He hasn't
been there since before he and Stiles mated. After paying for Stiles' flowers
and sending him outside to wait, Derek looks over the broad selection again,
this time with a more critical eye. He ends up choosing something more simple
for himself, just a single bouquet of yellow tulips since they were his
mother's favourite. He also slips a little something extra inside the bag,
hidden from view so he can bring it out again later when he and Stiles are both
settled back at the house.
"What took you so long?" Stiles asks when he sees Derek finally emerge from the
shop several long minutes later. He pulls away from where he leans against the
side of the Camaro and raises his eyebrows as he waits for a response. His eyes
flick down to the large bag in the alpha's hand, smiling kindly when he sees a
few bright yellow petals peeking out of the top.
Derek looks down at the bag in his hand and shrugs, aiming to keep his
additional purchase a secret for the time being.
"There were a lot to choose from," he says simply, walking around the front of
his car and waiting for the traffic to clear before opening the driver's-side
door and sliding in behind the wheel. He turns around and places his chosen
tulips gently on the backseat, his movements especially slow as he doesn't want
to ruin the beauty of them with any careless movements. He angles the bag away
from the passenger seat so that Stiles cannot look inside of it and ruin the
surprise. When he sees that they're both strapped in again, he starts the car
back up and drives off in the direction of the cemetery.
The large gates are still open when they pull up on the curb outside of the
burial ground. After coming to a stop, Derek reaches back and takes the tulips
out of the bag in the backseat before exiting the car.
Because it's getting so late in the day, Stiles shivers as he walks around the
Camaro and heads inside of the cemetery, the chilly evening air whipping around
his face and colouring his cheeks and ears pink. He lets Derek lead the way and
soon enough finds himself standing in front of his parents' graves. As he
always does whenever he visits them, he feels a renewed sense of grief at the
sight of the two tombstones sitting side by side in the grass, but the feeling
is pushed back when Derek slips his larger hand inside of his smaller one. He
sends the alpha a grateful smile and gives his hand a squeeze before releasing
it to dig inside of the bag he got from the florists. Pulling out the lilies he
chose earlier, he sets a bouquet on the ground in front of each of his parents'
names. "Hey mom, dad... I know it's been a while," he says quietly. He's long
since moved past the point where it felt strange talking to someone who's no
longer around. "I'm sorry I couldn't come and see you last week, but I was kind
of busy running around New York with Derek, tiring him out."
He smirks when he hears the alpha snort at his words.
"Seriously, though," he continues, crouching down so that he's kneeling in
front of the graves, Derek's hand moving to rest on his shoulder, "I hope you
haven't been worrying too much because things have been good. Amazing, even.
"The pack have been behaving themselves recently and nothing else has showed up
to try and kill us all since Landon, which makes a nice change. I'm kinda
nervous about senior year starting tomorrow, but I know I'll do fine. I was
thinking about going to Finstock tomorrow and quitting lacrosse. I'm stretched
pretty thin nowadays—which is totally worth it, by the way; I wouldn't give the
rest of it up for anything. I hardly ever play anyway, so I figure I might as
well just leave the team and spend that time doing something more worthwhile.
"I have no idea what colleges I want to apply to yet, but I've been looking. I
don't want to go somewhere too far, though. I know Derek would come with me if
I did, since he's like, the best mate ever," Stiles looks up to his right and
sends the man in question a small, affection-filled smile, "but Beacon Hills
can't be left without anyone to protect it, so...I don't mind.
"This place will probably always be my home, so I'm happy to stay here with him
and look after it all, even if no one knows it. My training with Deaton is
going pretty well. It's hard, but I'm learning a lot and I love it. We're
supposed to be doing something soon that'll help me figure out what types of
magic I'm naturally more adept at... I didn't really understand any of it when
he was explaining it to me, but he said it'd all make sense as he guides me
through it, so...I guess I'll find out what he meant later." He laughs to
himself, remembering how shocked he had been when he found out everything he
would need to have down pat before he could become Derek's emissary in an
official capacity. "Anyway, I think that's about everything new that's happened
in the last month, so...I guess I'll see you both again in a few weeks, OK?"
Stiles kisses his palm and places it on the top of both tombstones before
making to stand again.
He almost stumbles on his way back to his feet because his knees have seized up
from being bent for so long, but Derek's quick reflexes save him from smashing
his face into the hard ground. He coughs weakly to cover his embarrassment.
"Alrighty, Sourwolf, we're off to see your family next, right?"
Derek nods silently, keeping his free arm wrapped around Stiles' shoulders as
he shows him the way to his family's mausoleum. The large marble structure is
all the way on the other side of the cemetery and it takes them several minutes
to get there, their pace leisurely. The entrance is made up of a pair of dark
metal doors and the name 'Hale' is etched into the stone above.
The doors creek loudly when he pushes them open and steps inside.
Stiles follows a little apprehensively. He doesn't know whether the alpha
intends for him to join him or if he should wait outside and give his mate some
time alone with his family. He gets his answer when Derek turns and looks back
over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at him, obviously having noticed that
he's fallen behind. He smiles sheepishly and scurries after the man, his eyes
taking everything in with wonder. He remembers seeing the outside of the
mausoleum during a couple of his many trips to visit his mother's grave over
the years, but he never got close enough to see who it belonged to.
It feels strange to be up close after so much time.
The place is huge, with dozens of plaques lining the walls. Generation after
generation of Hales seem to have been laid to rest there, though there are
still a fair few free spaces, two of which he knows will one day contain Derek
and himself. He shakes that thought out of his head as soon as he thinks it,
not liking the idea of his mate dying any time soon. He traipses after Derek as
the alpha heads down to the opposite end of the room, turning and looking more
closely at the names next to which his mate comes to a stop. The names of
Talia, Nathan and Jeremy Hale are all written next to each other on the three
plaques right in front of them. Laura is directly beneath her parents, as is
Cora, surprisingly. When he lays eyes on that last name, Stiles glances over at
Derek and raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question.
"Laura and I both thought that Cora died in the fire with the rest of our
family, remember?" Derek explains, a wistful smile on his face. "I haven't
really found the time to get her name taken down again yet."
A metal vase is screwed into the wall between his parents' names, so he puts
the tulips he'd purchased earlier gently inside of it. "I haven't been here in
so long...too long, really." He reaches out a hand and runs his fingers over
his older sister's name. "I think the last time was when I put Laura here after
you and Scott dug her up in the preserve. It's hard to believe that was only a
year and a half ago now. So much has changed since then."
"Like what?" Stiles asks, wincing slightly at the reminder of how he'd
interrupted Derek's grieving and made Laura's death that much harder on him
with all of the wrong conclusions he had jumped to.
He watches the way the man's eyebrows are drawn together in a regretful frown
with concern. He doesn't like to see his mate look so sad and knows that if he
can get the man to talk about whatever it is that's running through his head,
then he'll feel much better for it afterward. He's lost count of the number of
times he's visited his mother's grave to pour his heart out when his life
seemed to get too hard to handle. He knows the obvious things Derek must be
referring to, like his alpha status, his new pack and all of the enemies
they've faced and defeated, but he gets the feeling that there's more to it
than that.
When the alpha finally opens his mouth, Stiles knows he's right.
Derek looks over at his mate disconsolately. His mouth suddenly feels dry and
he has to swallow before he can answer, his throat seeming to grow tight,
making the action feel more difficult than it should be. "I know that my
parents loved me and would've done anything for me," Derek begins, turning back
to look at his family's names, taking back his hand and letting his arm drop
down to his side. "I've spent years walking around with the guilt from the fire
circling over my head, thinking that they must all hate me now, wherever they
are. I pushed everybody away because I thought they'd get hurt or end up dying
if they got close to me. It took me so damn long to start letting go of that
and to begin realising that I was just being stupid, that of course my parents
would still love me. Then I killed Peter. Twice." He swallows difficultly. "I
can't help wondering whether my mom would've done things differently, whether
she would've tried to find a way to help him instead of just killing him like I
did..."
Taking in the way Derek's eyes are beginning to shine with unshed tears, Stiles
steps up behind the alpha and wraps his arms around his body, one hand coming
to rest on the man's stomach and the other over his heart. He can feel the way
Derek's pulse races beneath his palm as he tucks his face in close to the
alpha's strong neck.
"You can't think like that," he whispers, keeping his voice low since the
atmosphere of the room seems so fragile.
"I don't know what happens when you die, whether there's a heaven or a hell or
if there's even anything at all. But what I do know is that if given the choice
between Peter and you, your parents would choose you in a heartbeat. You're
their son and you always will be. Plus, they would've seen the way Peter was
tormenting us all and while I didn't know them, from what you've told me about
them, I think they would've done what they had to in order to stop him as well.
They'd be so proud of the man you've become, just like I am."
He presses his lips against the warm skin of Derek's neck and gives his body a
squeeze before stepping back again and linking their hands instead. He watches
as the alpha pulls himself back together before continuing to speak.
"Mom, dad...this is Stiles," Derek says, his voice slightly hoarse. "You've
probably already figured it out by now, but he's my mate, and he's the best one
I could ever ask for. I know you'd love him just as much as I do. I wake up
every morning and I can't believe that he's still there next to me. I finally
understand the way you two used to look at each other... He's actually pretty
much the only reason we've all made it as far as we have. Without him, all of
us would've probably died a thousand times over by now." He chuckles to
himself. "He definitely keeps me on my toes and I know you'd have enjoyed
teasing him, Laura, especially when you found out that he gives just as good as
he gets."
While it's not the first time Stiles has ever heard Derek talk about his
family, it is the first time the man has spoken of them so openly. The display
of emotion on the alpha's face is a far cry from the closed off demeanour he
displayed when they first met. Although he knows they both still have a long
way to go, Stiles is content in the knowledge that they've already come a fair
distance in the few months they've been together.
"Anyway..." Derek trails off, scanning is eyes across the names of his deceased
family one last time.
"My pack is in a good place right now. Everyone is getting along with each
other for once and even though they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes,
it feels so rewarding to look after them all." He leaves out that part of the
reason he works so hard at being a good alpha for all of them is because he
feels he still has a lot to make for from his past mistakes. He's confided this
thought in Stiles before, late one night, and the teen had immediately told him
that he shouldn't think like that. He just can't help it. It's difficult to
change your thought processes after years of them being a constant. Still, he's
trying, and he figures that's enough for the time being. "I don't know what
else there is to say now, really, so...I guess I'll just finish this off by
saying that I love and miss you all so much every day, and that I hope you're
happy wherever you are." He neatens up the tulips in the vase on the wall
before smiling sadly and walking out of the mausoleum, not even pausing to see
whether or not Stiles is following him.
He breathes deeply when he gets back outside, just taking in the cool evening
air and trying to let all of his anxieties go before he faces the rest of his
pack again. He doesn't want to worry them.
After watching Derek leave, Stiles stays where he stands for a few seconds
before turning back to look at the alpha's family. "Don't worry about him. I
promise I'll do my best to make him see just how amazing he is..." he says
earnestly before finally joining Derek outside.
                                     * * *
When the Camaro pulls up to their house, Derek and Stiles are unsurprised to
find that everybody else's vehicles are already parked there. The rest of the
pack were all informed of when they'd be returning, and Derek is apprehensive
as he gets out of his own car, dreading that the teenagers will have planned a
surprise homecoming party or something. He wouldn't put it past Lydia and
Erica, given what they'd done to him on his birthday months earlier. He walks
up the front steps and turns the handle on the door, pushing it open slowly and
expecting to hear a bunch of screams as soon as he walks into the foyer. He's
relieved when nothing of the sort happens. Keeping his ears open, he hears the
sounds of the television coming from the direction of the living room and some
hushed talking from the kitchen. He only steps fully into the house when Stiles
appears behind him and pushes him gently, the teen's arms laden down with
several of their heavy bags from the backseat.
He takes the bags from his mate quickly before he can drop them.
Setting everything down beside the stairs, he heads back out to the car and
brings the rest of the bags inside before shutting the door behind himself and
following Stiles through to the living room.
As soon as Stiles steps around the corner, he almost goes flying as something
collides with him unexpectedly, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He stumbles
back a couple of steps before finding his balance again and realising that the
thing that attacked him was just Isaac, the beta's arms wrapped tightly around
his torso and his face buried in his neck. He smiles fondly and reciprocates
the hug, looking over the taller teen's shoulder and seeing that most of the
rest of the pack are still sat on all of the sofas, watching them. Scott and
Allison come through from the kitchen soon afterward, completing the group.
Once another few seconds have passed, Stiles tries to pull back but finds he's
unable to break Isaac's hold. "Missed me, I take it?" he asks quietly, patting
the beta's back a couple more times and sharing a knowing look with Danny. He
feels Isaac nod into his shoulder and chuckles to himself, his heart seeming to
grow in his chest with the renewed realisation that he's obviously important to
the rest of the pack.
It feels good.
Eventually, Stiles ends up getting passed around the entirety of the pack in
hug after hug, though when he gets to Jackson, the pretentious beta just nods
in his direction. Their relationship has grown into something much more amiable
since his dad died, but he still didn't expect anything more.
Derek's greeting is a little less enthusiastic, all of the betas sensing his
more withdrawn attitude and giving him the space they think he needs. They
still look confused, though, so when the alpha doesn't reemerge after finishing
taking all of his and Stiles' bags upstairs, all eyes turn at the teen, looking
for answers. Stiles sighs and lets Isaac drag him over to sit on the sofa,
allowing the beta to cuddle up to his side like an affectionate puppy. The
tactility of all of the wolves still seems a little strange to him sometimes,
especially since he was never used to being touched so much before all of the
craziness started, but he just rolls with it, knowing they need it and finding
he rather enjoys it himself. "We stopped by the cemetery on our way back here
and saw our families. He hadn't been back since he laid Laura to rest, so it
brought back a lot of memories," he explains, pleased when looks of sympathy
and understanding appear on everyone's faces. "Just give him some time, guys."
"So, how was New York?" Allison asks from her seat between Scott and Kira.
The former is playing idly with her hair and the latter has her legs thrown
across both of the others' laps. "I was super jealous when I found out Derek
was taking you." Even with all of the examples she's been witness to in the
past, she still remembers how surprised she'd been at the display of generosity
and consideration coming from the alpha.
She wishes the whole pack could have gone, and while she missed Derek and
Stiles deeply while they were away, she understands the need to be alone
together every now and then.
Looking inside of himself and latching onto his connection to Derek, Stiles
tries to gauge how the alpha is feeling in that moment. Relief surges through
him when he finds that the older man appears to be relatively calm—no doubt
having settled down to read a book or something—which makes him feel OK staying
downstairs with the rest of the pack for a little while. He knows that Derek
sometimes needs space even from him and respects those needs completely.
Turning back to Allison, he smiles when he sees the way everybody appears to be
relaxed into each other, Isaac snuffling adorably even further into his
shoulder. "New York was amazing!" he gushes, his mind instantly wandering back
to the many new memories he has from the trip, which he knows he'll treasure
forever. "I practically dragged Derek all over the city. It was nice getting a
small glimpse of his past, even if he didn't say too much about it." He fields
more questions from everyone in the room about all aspects of the trip, from
the hotel room to all of the places he'd been and seen. Before he knows it, a
couple of hours have passed and it's nearing nine o'clock in the evening. He
gasps when he looks at the clock. "Whoa, it's getting late! All of you should
really start heading home now," he instructs, extricating himself from Isaac's
hold—he feels a little bad when the beta lets out a displeased whine at the
loss of contact, but he knows it's for the best. He raises a pointed eyebrow
when he sees that nobody has moved an inch. "Don't make me go all 'alpha-mate'
on you."
The fake threat does what he intended and finally gets everybody moving. Soon
enough, Stiles is standing by the front door and bidding farewell to all of
them as they leave. Isaac sneaks in another hug before following Danny out of
the door.
Shaking his head in exasperation, he wanders throughout the rest of the house
to see whether the betas have done their job of keeping the place looking
respectable while he and Derek were gone. He's happy to find that they've been
successful for the most part, the only mess being the remnants of that night's
snack foods on the coffee table in the living room.
It doesn't take him long to tidy it all up, putting all of the wrappers in the
dustbin and loading up the dishwasher to run overnight.
After turning off all of the lights and double-checking that all of the doors
and windows are locked, he heads upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom. Like he'd
thought earlier, he finds the alpha leaning against the headboard, a book open
in his lap. His mate wears nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, and he finds
the sight of the wolf's bare feet peaking out from the ends of the sweats to be
surprisingly nice. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he notices that Derek
appears to have packed away all of their clothes and toiletries already, ever
the helpful mate that he is.
The lamps on the bedside tables are the only light sources in the room.
Derek looks up when the bedroom door opens and Stiles steps inside. He stops
reading—he's halfway through the second book in the Hunger Games series, having
found he enjoyed the first instalment after Stiles forced him to check it
out—and hops up off of the bed. "Hey," he greets, stepping up behind the teen
as he rifles through the dresser on the other side of the room. "Has everyone
else gone home?"
Tucking his chin over Stiles' shoulder, he rocks them gently from side to side,
his hands resting on his mate's hips.
His fingers closing around the fresh pair of underwear he had been looking for,
Stiles leans back into Derek's hold and closes his eyes in contentment.
"Yeah... I sent them all home a few minutes ago when I realised how late it was
getting," he explains, letting himself be swayed. He's not surprised that Derek
appears to need close contact in that moment. It's happened several times
whenever the alpha has relived sad memories, where he'll need space and then
become especially clingy when they come back together. He loves it, always
happy to be in close proximity to his mate. A smile slips onto his face when he
feels Derek place a small kiss on the side of his neck, the man's beard rasping
against the sensitive skin and sending shivers down his spine. "You feeling
better now?"
Humming his assent into Stiles' neck, Derek moves his hands and wraps his arms
around the teen's chest, pulling him back so that every part of their bodies
touch from head to toe. He keeps them both standing there for several minutes,
just basking in Stiles' heady scent and the warmth soaking from his mate's body
into his own.
"As nice as this is, I really, really need to pee," Stiles whines eventually.
He reluctantly pulls out of Derek's comforting embrace and heads through to the
bathroom—clean pair of underwear still in hand and feeling the alpha's eyes on
him the whole time—closing the door quietly behind himself. He figures he might
as well just get ready to go to bed while he's there, seeing as he has to get
up early the next morning to make sure he has everything ready for the first
day of senior year. After using the toilet, he brushes his teeth at the sink
and thinks over everything that was said at the cemetery earlier. He knows
there's still a long way to go until both of them get over all of their issues
and hang-ups, but it feels good to know they're still making progress all the
same. He can't wait for the day when he can witness Derek talk about his family
without seeing guilt and torment storming behind the alpha's eyes. Thinking
about his mate reminds him that the man offered to drive him to and from school
the next day. He can't wait, always getting a little kick out of the other
students' reactions when they see Derek.
It feels good to be the one they're jealous of for once, after years of being
made to feel invisible by the vast majority of them. When he switches off the
bathroom light and steps back out into his and Derek's bedroom, he stops in the
doorframe when he sees that the alpha is stood next to the bed, an arm hidden
behind his back and a nervous expression on his bearded face.
"What's up?" he asks apprehensively, hoping that whatever Derek has to tell him
isn't bad. He's still on the lookout at every turn for anything that could
bring an end to the months of bliss they've been experiencing. The constant
vigilance got very exhausting very quickly.
Stiles' confusion increases when Derek just beckons him closer.
It's only when they're almost stood face to face he finally picks up on the
fact that the alpha's ears are tinted that adorable pink colour they get
whenever the man feels embarrassed or has done or is about to do something
sweet. That had been the biggest surprise about getting into a relationship
with Derek, the fact that the alpha is actually a very affectionate and
romantic person. Even though he knew the man loved him, he still assumed going
in that his new mate would end up being rather closed off and reserved. Those
assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth, though, and he's
thankful that they were. Derek seems to go out of his way to make him feel
cherished everyday they've been together thus far.
Noticing how concerned Stiles appears to be, Derek clears his throat before
hastening to assure the teen that nothing is wrong. "Don't worry, it's nothing
bad!" he blurts out, feeling his face heat up even further when he realises how
awkward he sounds. "I just, uh...wanted to give you something as a sort of, uh,
thank you for, y'know, being there..."
Stiles' mouth hangs open in shock when Derek brings his hidden arm out from
behind his back and holds up a single rose. The petals are all perfect and a
vibrant red. He notices that it's held delicately within a small glass vase,
which he recognises after a couple of seconds as the one usually kept on a
windowsill in the laundry room. He wonders if Derek went and retrieved it while
he was in the bathroom. When he sees that the alpha is beginning to look even
more nervous and unsure of himself by the second, Stiles realises that he must
have stayed silent for too long. "Aww, Sourwolf..." he says simply, taking the
flower and inspecting it more closely. A small smile forms on his lips when the
scent of it reaches his nose before he puts the vase gently on his nightstand
and turns back to his blushing mate. "Is this why you took so long in the
florists?"
Clearing his throat, Derek scratches at the back of his head and keeps his eyes
averted as he answers. "Uh, yeah... I couldn't decide whether I should actually
get it or not until the saleswoman talked me into it," he explains, only
meeting Stiles' gaze again when he feels one of the teen's hands cup his cheek.
His whole body freezes and he stares right back into his mate's hypnotising,
cinnamon-coloured eyes.
"Do you...do you like it?" Derek asks, cringing internally when he hears how
embarrassingly quiet and apprehensive his voice sounds in the silence of the
room.
"Are you kidding?" Stiles says, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around
Derek's neck, his elbows resting on the alpha's strong shoulders. He tips his
head forward until their foreheads rest against each other, feeling Derek's
warm breath puff across his face when he exhales sharply. "I love it. First you
take me on a week-long trip to New York, which was amazing in and of itself,
and now this? You'll never stop surprising me, will you?" He leans forward just
a little bit more until their lips touch chastely before pulling away again and
looking into Derek's beautiful, ever-changing hazel eyes.
His lips quirk upwards into a loving smile when he sees how endearingly pleased
with himself the alpha looks. "You ready for bed?" he enquires, beginning to
feel the weariness their flight has left him with. He knows he'll need a long
night's sleep so that he doesn't end up dead on his feet the next day.
Derek watches as Stiles walks around him and climbs onto the bed, stretching
his slender body out enticingly across the mattress. He snaps himself out of
his staring when he catches the way the teen is quirking an eyebrow at him
questioningly, a knowing smirk on his lips. Rolling his eyes, he walks around
to the other side of the bed and joins his mate. Setting the book he'd been
reading earlier on his nightstand, he pulls Stiles back so that they're
snuggled up close together, feeling and hearing the way the teen lets out a
small, pleased sigh when his arms wrap around his bare torso and their legs
tangle together. He grunts quietly when Stiles shifts in his hold, wiggling
slightly and inadvertently rubbing his ass back against his crotch. The action
causes his cock to twitch in his sweatpants and ignites a fire in his gut.
Deciding to chase after it, he humps his hips forward slightly and places a
series of kisses across Stiles' shoulder blade until he reaches his neck. "You
still tired...?" he enquires deeply, pausing his body's movements when the teen
in his arms doesn't respond immediately, afraid he's misread the situation.
Stiles turns over until he's facing Derek, still bracketed in by the alpha's
muscular arms.
While he does still feel distinctly worn out from their trip and knows he
should probably say 'yes', he can never resist his mate when the man looks like
he does in that moment, his pupils blown and his cheeks tinged red with
arousal.
If he's honest with himself, he still has trouble keeping his mind away from
any naughty thoughts even when Derek looks completely normal. He always thinks
his mate looks sexy as hell, strangely—and a little frighteningly, really—even
when the man is covered in dirt and blood from fighting, his clothes torn to
shreds and his skin flushed and sweaty. Derek is never unattractive. "I suppose
I could be persuaded to stay up for a little while longer..." he whispers
teasingly, grinning at the way his words cause Derek's eyes to begin glowing
their alpha red colour.
Surging forward, Derek rolls Stiles onto his back and moves to kneel between
the teen's long legs. He bends down and smashes their lips together in a fierce
kiss, immediately shoving his tongue inside the inviting cavern of his mate's
mouth, running their tongues together and drinking in the taste of him. It's
slightly overpowered by the taste of toothpaste from when Stiles brushed his
teeth just a few minutes before, but the pure essence of the teen is still
there, just beneath the mint.
He grinds his hips down against Stiles', rubbing their hardening cocks against
each other through the fabric of their underwear and sweatpants maddeningly.
The teen moans into his mouth at this and he can't resist repeating the action
a couple of times with increased force, just to get more of those intoxicating
sounds.
Threading his fingers in Derek's hair, Stiles bucks up against the alpha's
body, chasing what little stimulation he can get on his aching cock.
He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of being underneath his mate, feeling the
weight of his muscular body atop his own as he presses him down into the
mattress. It fast became one of his favourite things about sex with Derek after
the first time he helped the man shift all the way and has been a repeated
occurrence ever since. Tugging lightly on the dark strands of the alpha's hair,
he angles his head slightly to the side so that their mouths line up together
that little bit better. He sucks on Derek's tongue as it invades his mouth, his
eyes clenched shut in pleasure as his mate grinds down against his crotch and
he feels the man's impressive erection slide along his own. It's been far too
long since he's had Derek's cock and he plans on remedying that as soon as
possible.
His ass twitches in anticipation of having that hard length buried inside of it
again.
Derek breaks the kiss and slithers backward on the bed until he's sat on his
heels between Stiles' spread legs. He curls his fingers beneath the waistband
of the teen's boxer-briefs and pulls them down slowly, watching as each new
inch of pale skin is revealed, Stiles' cock slapping up against his stomach
when it's finally released. The way his mate just lies there passively makes
the wolf in his head howl with want. He slides the offending underwear off of
Stiles' legs and tosses them across the room, not caring at all where they land
as he bends down until the teen's hard cock is right in front of his nose. The
scent of the pre-come that bubbles up from Stiles' slit fills his nostrils, and
he can't resist swiping his tongue out to sample it, immediately sucking the
tip into his mouth when it blossoms across his taste buds. Flicking his eyes up
to Stiles' face to gauge his reaction, he begins bobbing his head up and down
and sees that the teen has his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent
moan. When he feels his mate try and buck his hips up, impatient, his fits his
hands around the teen's narrow, bony hips and holds him in place.
After he hears a whine of disappointment, slender fingers tangle in his hair
again, pushing him down further. He goes willingly, not stopping even when the
head of his mate's cock bumps against the back of his throat. He just swallows
around the hardness and takes Stiles deeper until his nose is buried in the
curls at the base.
When Derek pulls off of his cock, Stiles plants his feet flat on the mattress,
his knees bent, and tries again to unsuccessfully buck his hips up to chase the
alpha's mouth.
His toes curl in pleasure when his mate instead lowers his head and begins
sucking on his balls instead. Forcing his eyes open with great difficulty, he
looks down the long line of his body and sees the dark strands of Derek's hair
peeking out from between his legs. The man's red eyes are just visible, each
one glowing and framing his cock, which glistens with drying saliva. Even
though his mouth is occupied, Stiles can still see Derek's smirk clearly in his
eyes.
His wolf obviously enjoys teasing him.
Wanting to move things along a bit further, Derek pulls away and runs his
tongue along the index finger of his right hand before circling the tip around
Stiles' hole. When he feels the tight muscle relax under his careful touches,
he slips his finger inside, right up to the last knuckle. Before Stiles can
react to this new development, he takes his cock back in his mouth and sucks
hard, curling his finger up and rubbing across the teen's prostate forcefully
until he's a quivering mess beneath him. He keeps up his assault until he sees
the telltale signs that Stiles is close, redoubling his efforts when the teen's
fingers tangle in his hair again, pulling harshly in his pleasure. When the
first spurt of come floods his mouth, he moans appreciatively and sucks with
more enthusiasm, trying to wangle as much of the stuff out of the teen as he
can. He rubs his finger constantly back and forth across Stiles' prostate to
help things along. He keeps going until he hears his mate release a slightly
pained whine, his orgasm finished and his cock over-sensitive.
Acquiescing when Stiles tries to push him away, Derek gives one last lick to
the head of the teen's cock to collect the last of his come before sitting back
and taking in the sight of him. Stiles is laid out on the bed, his skin flushed
red and shining with sweat. The teen looks positively delectable. He gets up on
his knees and removes his sweatpants at lightning speed before flopping down on
the mattress next to Stiles.
Turning onto his back, Derek beckons the teen over with a curl of his index
finger.
It takes Stiles a second to get what Derek is asking him to do, having gotten
distracted for a second by the sight of the alpha's cock standing up straight
and proud between his legs. Finally finding his brain again, he clambers over
and swings his legs around until he's straddling Derek's chest, the man's cock
ending up right beneath his face. He rests his hands on his wolf's strong,
hair-dusted thighs and spends a second focusing on the way they flex beneath
his palms. They've never sixty-nine'd before, so this is a new experience and
it takes a while for him to find his footing.
He feels Derek take each of his ass cheeks in his large hands and pushes back
against them when they squeeze repeatedly before spreading him wide, exposing
his eager hole. The first lick of Derek's tongue against his tight pucker
causes him to hiss out a breath between his teeth, the sensation unexpected.
The rumbling coming from Derek's chest increases in volume as he licks across
Stiles' ass a couple more times, savouring the taste of it. He points his
tongue and prods at the tight ring, trying to coax it into relaxing and
unfurling slightly, allowing him entrance. Stiles' warm breath blows across his
cock as the teen pants harshly, obviously enjoying what he's doing. After a few
more careful licks, swirling his tongue around the rim soothingly, he finds
that he's finally able to get the very tip of his tongue inside. His mate's ass
feels burning hot around him, making him want to get as deep as he can. Claws
begin to materialise from his nails, poking into the paleness of Stiles'
cheeks. It takes some effort, but he makes sure they don't go too far and
accidentally pierce the skin. He's pleased when he finds he's able to keep his
fangs at bay. Now that his tongue is actually inside of Stiles' ass, it's
easier for him to move it further, dipping it in before withdrawing again in
rapid succession so that he's essentially fucking his mate with it, a little
preview for what is still to come.
When he feels something brush across his chest, he pauses and looks down to
find out what it is.
His eyes are greeted with the sight of Stiles' cock fully hard again, already
leaking. His own cock throbs between his legs and he copies what Stiles had
tried to do earlier and bucks his hips up toward the teen's face with his feet
planted flat against the sheets, his abdominal muscles contracting with the
movement.
Having been lost in the feel of Derek's tongue in his ass, the pain from the
alpha's claws only enhancing the pleasure of it all, Stiles is confused for a
second when he finds himself tilted forward and something brushes across his
cheek. It leaves a hot, wet trail in its wake. Opening his eyes again, he finds
that Derek's cock is now right in front of his face, the alpha using his
powerful legs to hold his hips up off the bed, bringing his rigid erection
closer.
Stiles realises that the fluid on his cheek is his mate's pre-come, which still
bubbles continuously up from the slit to run down the shaft and get stuck in
the thick curls at the base.
Getting the message, he moves his right hand off of Derek's thigh and uses it
to stabilise the man's cock before opening his mouth wide and closing his lips
around the head. It takes a lot of work to get his mouth even halfway down the
shaft—the man is so big it seems impossible that he'll be able to take him all
the way. Still, he gives himself points for trying and knows that he won't ever
stop wanting to feel Derek deep in his throat. He figures that if he just keeps
up his attempts, he'll reach his goal eventually with enough practice.
Luckily, he's never had much of a gag reflex, which is an automatic step in the
right direction.
Every time Derek feels Stiles pull his mouth off of his cock, he thrusts his
tongue as deep as he can inside of his mate's ass, which pushes the teen
forward and gets his mouth back where he wants it. It's a game of back and
forth, one he knows he can keep playing forever and never get bored of, but the
thought of once more sinking his cock inside of the tight ass in front of his
face urges him to cut it short.
Before Stiles knows what's happened, he finds himself on his back again with
Derek straddling his torso instead, almost in a reversal of their previous
positions. The only thing that's different is that the alpha is facing him
instead, slightly further back. He watches as his mate leans over to side and
fumbles the top drawer of his nightstand open, retrieving the lube they keep
there. When the tube is subsequently dropped down on the centre of his chest,
he frowns in confusion after it lands with a wet slap against his skin. Looking
closer, he sees that Derek's claws have punctured it in his enthusiasm, the
alpha either too turned on to be able to retract them again or simply unwilling
to do so. Shrugging, he picks the lube up and coats three of his fingers with
the stuff before awkwardly reaching down and prodding at his hole.
The muscle is already a little loose and wet from Derek's earlier fingering and
rimming.
Derek turns his head and watches Stiles work, smirking when he sees him sink
two fingers inside his own ass right off the bat. The teen is obviously eager
to get to the main event, a feeling that he definitely shares. Reaching up and
wrapping his hands around the top of the headboard, he scoots forward slightly
until the tip of his cock bumps against Stiles' plump lips, seeking entrance.
A disapproving growl builds in his chest when the teen tries to wrap his other
hand around the shaft, picking his head up off the pillows to try and take him
deep. He wants to be in control of this part of things by himself. Arching a
thick eyebrow down at Stiles, he doesn't stop growling until the teen complies,
his free hand flopping down uselessly by his side again. Satisfied, he pushes
forward until the tip of his cock slips past Stiles' lips, tilting his head
back and groaning when that talented tongue alternates between sliding beneath
his foreskin and running over the bundle of nerves under the head and swiping
across the slit, sending shivers down his spine. "How many?" he grunts out
between his teeth, looking down with hooded eyes at the erotic sight of his
mate's mouth wrapped around his substantial girth.
His mouth otherwise occupied, Stiles holds up two fingers on his free hand to
answer Derek's question. He quickly gets the message when the alpha's
expression gets a little more impatient and adds a third slick digit in
alongside the two already scissoring inside his hole.
It's a stretch, but he rather likes the burn of it all.
Stiles whines when Derek pulls his hips back, taking his cock with him. When he
tries to chase after it, another growl from his wolf holds him in place, and
he's forced to look pleadingly up at his mate's shifted face. He tracks his
eyes up the alpha's torso on his way to meet the man's own. The light from the
bedside lamp casts shadows over Derek's body, making his flexing muscles even
more apparent. All their dips and curves are bathed in dark, standing out
against pale skin. The hair leading down from the alpha's navel into the curls
of his pubic hair is disturbed as Stiles' harsh breaths blow through them. The
bottom half of Derek's face is completely obscured by a shadow cast by his
right arm, but Stiles can just about make out the glint of white fangs.
"Love having your lips wrapped around me, don't you?" Derek chuckles, relenting
in his teasing and returning to his previous position, allowing Stiles to get
his wicked mouth on him again. It doesn't compare to being deep inside the
teen's ass—it's not really a fair comparison, since nothing could measure up to
that—but it still feels pretty damn good. It's always a suitable substitute if
they don't have the time to go all the way.
Derek's balls drag heavily across Stiles' chest and gather the lube that dries
there, wetting the sack.
When he finds he can squeeze his pinky finger inside his hole without much
discomfort, Stiles decides that he's finally ready and withdraws his hand,
flopping his head back down on the pillow and reluctantly releasing Derek's
cock from his mouth.
"OK, I'm ready," he gasps, scooping up the remaining lube on his chest and
slathering it across the alpha's shaft. "Just get inside me already." He smirks
when Derek rumbles approvingly before climbing backward until he's once again
situated between his spread legs. Reaching up his hands, he wraps them around
the backs of his knees and pulls his legs up so that he's almost bending
himself in half, putting his stretched prepped entrance on display in hopes of
enticing Derek to just shove inside his body with force.
The sight of Stiles' hole gaping up at him snaps something in Derek's head.
He immediately rushes forward, sheathing himself completely in one smooth
thrust, his balls slapping audibly against the teen's smooth cheeks. He sees
Stiles wince slightly from being taken so suddenly and whines quietly in
response, upset at having potentially hurt his mate. In an effort to soothe, he
nuzzles his nose across the teen's jaw and down across his neck, leaving a
series of light kisses in his wake. As it's been a while since they've made
love, he gets lost momentarily as he takes in just how tight Stiles is around
him. The feeling of the narrow channel as it twitches around his cock and grows
accustomed to his girth is something he doesn't think will ever get old.
Eventually, he feels hands on the back of his head and looks up, groaning
gratefully when Stiles nods and gives him permission to finally move.
Withdrawing slowly, he pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside
before pushing back in. He keeps his movements unhurried. Even though things
started off a little rushed, he wants to make the main event feel as amazing
and full of love and affection as he can make it.
When Derek finally moves, Stiles closes his eyes in bliss.
Threading his fingers through his wolf's hair, Stiles pulls his face up so that
their lips meet in a messy kiss. He runs his tongue along the sharp points of
Derek's fangs before dipping fully inside his mouth, moaning quietly when he
finds he can still taste a bit of his own come on the alpha's tongue.
After a particularly well-aimed thrust causes the head of Derek's cock to brush
right up against his prostate, he whimpers into the kiss and tears his mouth
away to gasp for air, his lungs protesting their lack of oxygen. He didn't
think this move through fully and is surprised when Derek immediately latches
onto his neck, the long, pale column bared in a way that he now realises must
seem submissive to the wolf. He guesses that's just his natural inclination
now. Strangely—although perhaps it's really not strange at all—he finds he has
no problem with it, especially not since their lovemaking always ends up being
practically euphoric.
When Stiles' fingers move from his hair to grip onto his back, his nails
digging into shifting muscles, Derek takes the teen's hands in his own and
presses them down into the pillow on either side of his head.
He links their fingers together so that Stiles still has something to hold on
to.
It seems to go on and on, and Stiles can't stop the endless whines and mewls
that Derek's careful thrusts pull out of him. He holds onto the alpha's hands
tightly and just gives into his ministrations, more than happy to give up his
control and let his mate take the wheel. He doesn't know why—he's tried not to
look too closely at any of the possible reasons for it—but being held down and
made to take whatever Derek will give turns him on so much. His cock is hard as
steel where it's trapped between their stomachs, and the feeling of the alpha's
abs rubbing across it causes him to arch his body up to chase more of those
amazing sensations. There's a small hint of over-stimulation there because of
his earlier orgasm, but it's not nearly enough to deter him.
Sealing his mouth around Stiles' mating scar, Derek sucks on the sensitive skin
to provide as much pleasure as he can for the teen. The new contact makes the
needy noises coming from his mate's mouth sound all the more desperate, and he
smirks around the skin before biting down on it, still careful to keep his
fangs in check so he doesn't reopen the scar.
Stiles is in heaven. Every single part of his body feels like it's on fire,
every nerve ending being stimulated. From the thick cock in his ass,
unrelenting in its assault on his prostate, to the mouth on his mating scar, to
the fact that their torsos are rubbing together, their hard nipples
catching...all of it adds together until he doesn't know which way is up
anymore. His mind has checked out completely, leaving his body behind to just
feel all the overwhelming sensations Derek is giving him. Wrapping his legs
tighter around the alpha's hips, he digs his heels into the man's hairy ass to
try and get him to go deeper and harder, though he's quickly forced to give up
when his efforts prove futile. The constant slow burning in the depths of his
gut tells him that his second orgasm is steadily approaching, the heat of it
becoming more intense the longer Derek just keeps on going, never changing the
pace of his movements. Even though he could feel it building, it's still
strangely shocking when his cock spurts between their stomachs, coating them
both with his come.
He picks his head up off the pillow and buries his nose in Derek's shoulder,
using the alpha's scent to ground himself as he rides out his orgasm.
Feeling Stiles go suddenly boneless beneath him, Derek smirks in triumph at
having made the teen come twice in such quick succession. He wonders how many
times he can possibly make his mate come in a single night and tucks the
thought away to revisit at a later date. Now that Stiles has been thoroughly
taken care of, he finally makes his thrusts more forceful, snapping his hips
forward roughly to chase his own pleasure.
He's careful to aim away from the teen's prostate after the first few, though,
knowing that having it stimulated so soon after an orgasm feels more painful
that it does pleasureful. When his knot seems to pop into existence suddenly
and unexpectedly, he presses his lips to Stiles' and drinks in the high-pitched
whine he gets when he brings his hips flush with the teen's cheeks one last
time. His knot pops past the tight ring and stretches Stiles' ass wider than it
has been all night. Immediately finding himself gripped in unrelenting
tightness, his eyes almost roll back in his head as Stiles' walls twitch around
him and milk him of his seed. Grinding his hips in tiny circles as his knot
grows to its full size and locks them together, his orgasm washes over him as
his cock jerks inside the fluttering channel and coats the teen's walls with
endless jets of thick, hot come.
Stiles groans when Derek pulls away from him, cracking open his eyes and
watching as the alpha lifts one of his legs and tries to turn them so that
they're front-to-back instead.
He can't find the energy to help and just grunts his discomfort when the knot
pulls a little against his ass, the ball of flesh still too big to be released.
Eventually, Derek is able to succeed and shuffles up close behind him, spooning
him and holding him tightly. He lifts his head obligingly when the alpha tries
to slide an arm underneath it, sighing in contentment when he finds that the
man's bicep makes a very comfortable pillow.
"Damn..." Stiles breathes eventually, tilting his head to the side so that
Derek can slot his chin over his shoulder and snuffle adorably into his neck.
"I swear that just gets better and better every time."
Derek smirks into the pale skin of Stiles' neck, happy to have pleased his
mate. "I'm glad you think so," he replies, wrapping his left arm more securely
around the teen's torso so that there's not a millimetre of space between them.
His cock still spurts come inside Stiles' ass, filling him even more, but his
orgasm has finally begun to taper off, the spurts becoming smaller and further
apart as it gets closer to finishing. "Now, get some sleep. You've got a big
day tomorrow."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Stiles mumbles, turning and pressing one last kiss to
Derek's bearded cheek before following his wolf's suggestion. He closes his
eyes and lets unconsciousness finally overcome him, happy to be home.
***** Advent *****
- Monday, August 6th, 2012 -
Derek wakes up first the next morning, an hour before he and Stiles have to get
up to get the latter ready for his first day of senior year. His knot has long
since gone down, but he's still buried comfortably to the hilt inside of the
teen, spooned up close behind him with his arms wrapped around his relaxed
body. He's going to miss the summer, having gotten so used to being around
Stiles practically twenty-four-seven. It'll be a rough change to have to be
apart from him for hours at a time every weekday, but he supposes he's managed
OK before and he'll be able to adjust back to managing again. He snuggles
closer to Stiles and tucks his nose into the side of his neck, groaning quietly
when he realises how their scents are so mingled together that he's unable to
differentiate between the two of them. It's a wonderful feeling, and he smirks
evilly when he thinks of how the rest of the pack will react later that
morning. He always gets a real kick out of watching their horrified expressions
when they realise just how much Stiles reeks of him after each time they make
love.
In fact, he enjoys it so much that he's actually taken to deliberately rubbing
his own come into the teen's pale skin just to elicit more of those reactions.
Stiles rolls his eyes good-naturedly every time, but Derek has a sneaking
suspicion that the teen actually loves it since he's never actually put up any
form of protest.
Just as he's thinking about getting up prematurely, the feel of the come still
drying between their bodies beginning to make him feel a little uncomfortable,
Derek is stopped from pulling out and leaving the bed when Stiles begins to
squirm back against him slightly, waking up. As with every morning, he listens
attentively to the series of small whining sounds that slip out of the teen's
mouth as he finally nears consciousness. He senses the exact moment he does.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he greets, his lips brushing lightly against the skin of
Stiles' neck as he speaks since they're still pressed there.
Stretching as much as he can with Derek's strong arms still wrapped around him,
Stiles grunts and turns his head to look back over his shoulder. "Morning," he
replies, clamping a hand over his mouth as it opens wide in a long yawn. He
wiggles backward into Derek's hold and winces slightly when he realises that
they're still connected, his ass a little sore from the previous evening's
activities.
"Please tell me I don't have to get up right this second..."
Chuckling, Derek shakes his head. "Nope. Don't worry; we've got a little while
before we have to get ready to leave," he assures, snuggling impossibly closer.
He runs the fingers of his right hand through Stiles' hair gently, the teen's
head still pillowed on his bicep. "The rest of the pack are meeting you there,
right?" He remembers overhearing the teens all plan a couple of days ago to
gather together outside of the main building a few minutes before the first
bell of the day. He'd been terribly nervous to start his own first day of
senior year, but he thinks his fears were probably a lot worse than Stiles'
because he was in a still-unfamiliar New York at the time, at a new school
where he didn't know anybody. He knows Stiles will be fine with the rest of the
pack there to keep him afloat in his absence.
"That's the plan," Stiles breathes, closing his eyes again. Now that he knows
he has some more time, he's content to relax back into Derek's comforting
warmth again. He really doesn't think there's anything better than early-
morning cuddles with the hottest man on the planet. "As much as I'm looking
forward to today, I'm looking forward to getting it over with even more so that
I can have more snuggles. I'm totally dragging you right back up here as soon
as the final bell rings, just so you know..."
He smirks when Derek snorts into his shoulder.
"You're gonna have to wait a bit longer than that, I'm afraid," Derek mutters,
rubbing his left hand slowly back and forth across Stiles' chest. "You've got
an extra training session with Deaton this week, remember, after school? You're
supposed to meet him in the preserve near the Nemeton." He pulls back slightly
when Stiles turns his head and groans deeply into his bicep, obviously annoyed
at the reminder throwing a wrench in his plans. As much as he himself would
love for the teen to skip this new after-school session, he knows how important
the training is as, every time Stiles learns something new, his power grows
along with his knowledge. Deaton had explained to him that it's imperative for
Stiles to attend every session so that it doesn't overwhelm him, making sure he
keeps in control of it all.
When Derek's fingers ghosting over his skin begin to tickle, Stiles grabs the
alpha's hand in his own and holds it still to his chest instead. "Ugh, ruin my
fun, why don't you?" he complains jokingly. "So...what are you going to be
getting up to while I'm being bored out of my brain at school?"
He remembers from past discussions that Derek has been considering beginning to
look for a job when school started back up again; the idea had made sense to
him at the time, but he doesn't know whether the alpha has made a start already
or not. After all, he wouldn't want to be sitting around all day, just waiting
for the rest of the pack to finish with whatever they were doing to come put
him out of his misery.
"Well...I was planning on making a start at looking around for something to do
while you're all busy with school," Derek explains, glancing over at the
curtained window and seeing the sun has started to rise behind them. "I was
thinking maybe something creative or artistic. I've still got my degrees around
here somewhere, so I might as well finally put them to good use. After all,
it'll also probably be a smart idea to get some form of steady income for this
household; though it's nice knowing it's always there for us to fall back on,
we can't live off of my family's money forever. It wouldn't feel right and I
know I'd get bored having nothing to do all day." He watches as Stiles picks
his left hand up and begins fiddling with his fingers, seemingly fascinated by
them. "What're you doing?" he asks, remembering the teen doing something
similar several times in the past.
He's never thought to ask what it's about before now, though, his curiosity
having been sufficiently piqued.
Stiles hums quietly to himself before answering Derek's question, continuing to
inspect the alpha's hand closely. "Nothing...just amusing myself," he says,
smoothing his fingers across his mate's palm and inspecting all of the lines
that run across the expanse of tanned skin. "I guess you could also say that
there's a little admiring going on, if you really want to know.
"I love your hands..." He thinks back to the previous evening, when Derek had
used his hands to hold his own down against the pillows so he couldn't really
move. "They're so strong."
"You say that about every part of my body, it seems..." Derek muses, allowing
Stiles to continue with his inspection. He shifts his claws out halfway
through, wondering what reaction he'll get, and is surprised when Stiles just
runs his fingers over them and presses the pad of one of them against the tip
of a claw, almost as if he's seeing how much pressure he can apply before the
skin breaks. A relieved sigh escapes his mouth when Stiles eases off again
before any blood can be spilled; he never likes any situation in which he can
smell the copper of his mate's blood, even if it's only brought about by the
slip of a knife in the kitchen. Every time that's happened in the past when
Stiles has cooked dinner for the pack in the evenings—it's thankfully a very
rare occurrence—he's fussed over the teen until it was all cleaned and bandaged
up again, beginning to heal. Stiles always responds to his overprotectiveness
with a roll of his eyes, but he'll always protest if Derek even suggests that
he take over the cooking. He learned early on not to bring the idea up again
when Stiles had gotten all huffy.
It had ended with them getting into an argument, but they reconciled shortly
afterward and partook in some rather fantastic make-up sex, so it all worked
out fine.
"That's because every damn part of you is made up of nothing but solid muscle!"
Stiles exclaims, finally dropping Derek's hand and pulling away. He winces when
the alpha's cock slides out of his used hole, a substantial amount of come
following in its wake and dripping down between his legs.
Turning onto his front to avoid it getting on the sheets too much, he stretches
out all of his limbs before resting his head atop his crossed arms. He peers
over at Derek's blushing face. "Seriously, I hardly ever see you work out," he
looks distinctly disappointed at this fact, "so do you just do all of that
whenever you're alone? Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining, not at all—I
very much enjoy the results. It just seems a little weird. Is that a werewolf
thing? Because all of the betas are packing some serious muscle as well. Not
nearly as much as you, of course—no one's as big as you and you know how much I
love that you're able to just...hold me down and take like I push you to do so
often.
"Like I said, I just find it a little weird."
Derek is a little overwhelmed by Stiles' little rant, not knowing where to make
a start at addressing it all. While he thinks, he looks down between their
bodies and sees that his come has begun to dry on his cock and in his pubic
hair. A shower is definitely in his near future. The viscous fluid has also
managed to get all over the sheets, having dripped down there when Stiles
pulled away, so he knows the first thing he'll be doing when he gets back to
the house after dropping his mate off at school is to change them and run the
soiled ones through the washing machine. "I suppose being a werewolf makes it a
little easier to gain muscle mass and keep it with less work than it would take
for a human..." Derek explains, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "And yes, I
do work out down in the basement quite a lot whenever you're out with the betas
or something, but I don't spend all of my free time down there. I do have other
interests, you know." He's distracted when he sees Stiles wiggle his hips a
little, probably because the sensation of his come slipping out of his ass has
started to feel a little strange.
Still, the sight of the teen's cheeks shaking like that is rather inviting, so
much so that he gets a little lost in them and doesn't realise that Stiles is
still speaking to him for a few seconds.
"I'm aware that you have other interests, thank you very much. I do know my
mate quite well, I think," Stiles defends, looking back over his shoulder and
smirking when he sees how Derek appears to be entranced by the sight of his
naked body. Every new reminder he gets about how attractive the alpha finds him
stirs the fire in his gut that seems to constantly burn whenever he's around
the older man.
"My eyes are up here, you know."
Shaking himself out of his daze, Derek reluctantly tears his eyes away from
Stiles' smooth cheeks and meets the teen's amused gaze. His feels the tips of
his ears turn pink with embarrassment when he sees the smirk on his mate's
plump lips. "Shut up..." he mutters, looking away again and scenting Stiles as
subtly as he can manage. When the teen wiggles his ass again, he succumbs to
his desire to fit his palms around the pale globes, squeezing them a couple of
times before pulling them apart.
He frowns a little when he sees how red and puffy the rim of Stiles' hole
looks, shining slightly with the come that leaks out of it. "Does it hurt?"
"Mmm, a little, but it's a good kind of hurt, y'know?" Stiles replies, turning
away from Derek again and resting his head back on his arms. He closes his eyes
when he hears the alpha hum his understanding, jumping in surprise when he
feels one of Derek's fingers begin to inspect his hole gently. A smirk slips
onto his lips a few seconds later when he realises that his mate has apparently
finished with his examination and has moved on to simply playing with the
remnants of the previous night's lovemaking. "Having fun back there?" Amusement
and a little bit of arousal drips from his voice. "Just don't start anything
you can't finish, Sourwolf... We don't really have the time to wait for your
knot to go down again before we have to get up."
"I know, I know... I won't," Derek assures, easing his thumb in alongside his
index finger and opening Stiles' hole to its full width so that more of his
come can run out. It seems to seep out continuously and he can't resist cupping
his other hand down between the teen's legs to catch some of it. He hesitates
for a second before moving forward and rubbing it into the smooth skin of
Stiles' back.
The boy jumps again under his touch before relaxing back into the mattress.
While he already has a sneaking suspicion about what Derek is doing, Stiles
wants to actually hear the man say it. He mumbles his question into the folded
arms his face is pressed into. "You wouldn't happen to be rubbing your come
into my skin to make me smell even more like you, would you?" he asks,
succeeding at concealing the laughter in his voice.
He's long since resigned himself to the fact that he'll be made to put up with
having a lot of the alpha's come embedded in his skin, probably for the rest of
his life. It's not that much of a hardship to bear, if he's honest with
himself, especially as it more often that not follows a particularly possessive
round of sex triggered by him being enveloped in the scents of strangers. Plus,
it usually comes with a nice massage afterward. They work out all of the
tension he accumulates in his shoulders and back from the stress of taking care
of all of the betas every day.
It takes a lot of energy to do it properly.
"Maybe a little..." Derek admits quietly, resolutely not looking up at Stiles
face and instead keeping his eyes focused on his hands as they work. Soon
enough, he's rubbed all of the come he can into the skin of the teen's back
until it's all dry, gone from sight.
Leaning down, he presses his nose into the dip of Stiles' spine and breathes
himself in, pleased when he finds that his scent has been embedded there good
and proper. "I can't help myself. My wolf has been a bit restless at the
thought of you being surrounded by all those other people. At least this way,
it'll calm down a bit until you get home and can I do it all over again."
Once he realises that Derek has apparently finished scent marking him, Stiles
pushes himself up and settles into his new position sitting next to the alpha,
his legs crossed. He sighs amiably.
"The things I put up with to keep my cuddly Sourwolf happy," he teases,
pinching both of Derek's cheeks. He chuckles when the alpha pulls his head away
and pouts back at him petulantly. "With the way you constantly seem to want me
to smell like you, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days you lift you
leg out of nowhere and mark your territory a different way!" He laughs deeply
at his own joke, only managing to pull himself together again when he notices
that Derek is looking off to the side, his cheeks red. "Wait...have you
seriously considered doing that?!"
Derek's face flushes even darker than before. "Maybe..." he whispers, slightly
ashamed at having been called out. "You're the one who wanted me to get in
touch with all my, and I quote, 'wolfy urges', so don't blame me that letting
the alpha take over completely comes with some...unsavoury side effects. Don't
worry, though; I wouldn't ever think of actually doing it. It's just something
my wolf keeps telling me it wants whenever a stranger touches you for too
long..." He makes to finally get up off of the bed and make a start at getting
ready for the day so he can avoid seeing Stiles' reaction to his admission. His
feet are stopped from touching the carpeted floor when one of the teen's hands
wraps itself around his wrist, holding him in place.
He closes his eyes in preparation for the words of disapproval he expects are
coming.
"Hold on there, Derek," Stiles says sternly, tugging on the alpha's arm to get
him to sit back in his previous spot on the bed. While the man has grown to
accept that he doesn't have to worry about his reaction to wolfing out whenever
they make love, it's obvious to him that Derek still harbours some reservations
about the rest of the instincts being an alpha werewolf gives him. Seeing his
mate look so ashamed of himself just won't do. He beckons Derek closer and
smiles fondly when the man immediately presses his nose into his neck, drawing
comfort from the close contact. He cards his fingers gently through the alpha's
hair to further reassure him. "I'm not saying I've ever thought of doing
something like that before, and I don't know whether I'll want a repeat
performance or if I'll even like it at all, but...I think I'd be willing to
give it a go at some point." He feels Derek inhale sharply against his
collarbone.
"We'll be talking in more depth about this before anything actually happens,
mind you, but yeah...one day." He glances over at the clock on the nightstand,
his eyes widening when he takes in the time. "Jeez, it's getting late. We'd
better get up or I'll be late!"
His heart still beating irregularly in his chest from Stiles' apparent
acceptance of one of his more embarrassing werewolf traits, it takes Derek a
couple of seconds to realise that the teen is no longer on the bed with him. He
looks around the room and sees that the bathroom door has been pushed to, the
sounds of the shower being turned on coming from within. Getting up from the
bed himself, he enters the bathroom and frowns when he sees Stiles holding his
hand under the spray, gauging the water's temperature.
Stiles splutters indignantly when Derek pushes him out of the way and turns the
shower off again.
"Hey! I just got that to the right temperature!" he whines, smacking the alpha
lightly on his chest. He pouts when Derek refuses to move out of the way again
and grant him access to the shower. "What suddenly crawled up your butt and
died?"
Derek crowds Stiles back against the wall and boxes him in, his hands pressed
to the tile on either side of the teen's head. His nostrils flare and he smirks
wickedly as he takes in the hint of arousal his slightly aggressive behaviour
draws from his mate. He leans in close so that his mouth rests right next to
Stiles' right ear, his breath blowing across the shell and sending full-body
shivers through the teen. "I'm not going to let you shower because it'll wash
off all of my hard work. We can't have that now, can we?" he asks, his voice
dripping with amusement. He looks down between their bodies and sees that
Stiles' cock has begun to harden with anticipation, curving upwards until it
pokes him in the hip. "Hmm...getting a little overexcited, I see. Too bad we
don't have enough time for me to take care of that for you." With a deep
chuckle, he steps away from Stiles and exits the room, heading straight
downstairs to start cooking breakfast without putting on any clothes.
His senses tell him that no one else is in the house, so he doesn't worry about
his nudity.
Sighing, Stiles pushes away from the wall and gives the shower one last longing
look before turning to the sink instead. He cleans the worst of Derek's come
from his body but leaves his back alone, acquiescing to the alpha's request.
Knowing he'll be the recipient of many disgusted looks when the betas get a
whiff of him, he sighs again before heading back through to the bedroom,
pulling out a random outfit and immediately shucking it all on carelessly, not
really caring how he looks. The only thing he puts any thought into is his
shirt, and he ends up selecting one of Derek's instead of one of his own,
figuring the alpha will appreciate him being bathed even more in his scent.
After checking his reflection out in the mirror briefly to make sure his hair
isn't doing anything outrageous, he deems himself to be ready and follows Derek
downstairs, walking straight through to the kitchen when he doesn't see the
alpha anywhere else. His eyes widen when he finally catches sight of his wolf.
Derek stands completely naked in front of the stove, facing away from him, and
he can't help himself as he leans against the doorframe and stares
appreciatively at his mate's hair-dusted ass for several minutes, only stopping
when Derek turns to look at him curiously over his shoulder, one thick eyebrow
raised.
"Don't mind me... Just admiring the view," he explains nonchalantly, finally
stepping fully into the room and pulling out a couple of glasses from one of
the cupboards.
Derek does a double take when he realises just whose shirt Stiles has opted
for, a small, pleased smile slipping onto his face as he turns back to the
frying pan on the stove, several strips of bacon sizzling inside of it. He
doesn't worry about any of the grease spitting up and burning his skin; the
tiny pinpricks of pain only last a couple of seconds before the burns are all
healed again.
"That smells great," Stiles comments.
He takes a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring them both a
glass. He sets Derek's down next to the stove before leaning against the
counter and watching the man work.
His mate is nowhere near his level when it comes to skill in the kitchen, but
he figures the alpha does a decent enough job that he doesn't feel bad about
letting him take the reigns every now and then. Plus, there's something oddly
attractive about seeing Derek in an apron, the sight so domestic that it does
funny things to his insides. Of course, the alpha isn't wearing one in that
moment, but the sight of all of that naked, furry flesh is more than a fair
compromise.
"Why, thank you very much!" Derek replies, a hand clutched to his chest
jokingly. Deeming the bacon to be ready, he divvies the strips up equally
between the two plates he laid out before he even started cooking and leaves
the grease to cool so he can scrape it off and put it in the bin later. The
bacon joins the scrambled eggs and hash browns already there, completing their
meals.
"There we go; breakfast of kings." He picks up both plates and sets them next
to each other at the island in the middle of the room.
It doesn't escape Derek's notice that Stiles' eyes never leave him, watching
all of his movements with rapt attention, obviously liking what he's seeing. He
doesn't acknowledge the teen's gaze, though he knows the tips of his ears are
tinted pink again, giving away that he knows. He's long since given up the hope
that his mate won't notice, as Stiles seems to always be on watch for any
changes to his complexion that signal a shift in his emotions. The teen even
goes so far as to compliment him on any small thing he can find to make him
blush deliberately. He curses that it usually works. Taking seats side by side
around the island, Derek and Stiles both tuck into their breakfasts with gusto,
having not eaten a lot the previous day since they were travelling for so much
of it. Derek looks up at this mate when he's halfway finished with his food,
observing the way Stiles shovels his own into his mouth at a startling rate.
"So...how are you feeling about today?" he asks eventually, taking another
mouthful of eggs.
Stiles hums as he chews a strip of bacon, swallowing it down before answering.
"OK, I guess. I'm still a little nervous about all the work they'll no doubt
dump on us right from the get-go, but as long as I stick around Lydia, I think
I can manage it," he explains, downing the rest of his orange juice. "I'm still
surprised I did so well on the end-of-year exams. I know I couldn't have done
it with her help." He remembers how Lydia was almost constantly on his case in
the lead-up to the exams, making sure he studied and knew enough of the
material since he was still pretty torn up from his dad's death to stay on top
of it all by himself.
Most of his teachers had given him some leeway in deference to his grieving,
but he didn't want to rely on their generosity too much, lest he find himself
lost when they started expecting more of him again.
"You got everything you need?" Derek asks when he's finished his own food,
pulling out a piece of paper seemingly from nowhere. He lays it flat on the
countertop. Written across the lines is a list of all of the books and
equipment he suspects that Stiles will need to have with him for his first day,
compiled from his own experience with senior year.
"Mmm, yup!" Stiles says happily, popping the 'P' exaggeratedly.
"I've got most of it already in my backpack, but there are a couple of things
Deaton wanted me to bring for our training session later that I still have to
wrangle together." He eats the last strip of bacon on his plate before hopping
up off of his stool and putting it in the dishwasher, pleased when he finds
it's already been emptied, presumably by his mate when the man first came
downstairs earlier. After taking Derek's plate when it's held out to him, he
tries to keep his eyes averted so that he doesn't ogle the man too obviously.
Derek has turned around on his stool in order to keep facing in his direction,
his legs spread obscenely so that absolutely nothing is left to the
imagination. He can see out of the corner of his eye that there is still some
white among the dark curls between the alpha's legs, another reminder of what
they'd done the previous evening. Standing again, he walks past Derek and out
into the living room. "Right, while I get what I need for Deaton, why don't you
go upstairs and actually get dressed? We need to leave soon and I'm the only
one that's allowed to see you naked."
He jumps when he hears a growl come from directly behind.
Derek spins Stiles around and kisses him passionately, the proud declaration
that he belongs to the teen igniting a fire in his veins. He doesn't let it get
too out of hand, though, and pulls away after a minute to follow through with
the teen's suggestion. When he's halfway up the stairs, he peers back through
to the living room and smirks when he sees that Stiles is still stood where he
left him, dumbstruck.
Soon enough, after a couple of minutes of waiting by the front door with his
now-heavy backpack slung over his shoulder, Stiles watches as Derek comes back
down the stairs fully dressed. The man wears his signature leather jacket
again, a sight that never fails to make his heart skip a beat in his chest.
He ignores it this time, though, leading the way outside and immediately
hopping into the passenger seat of Derek's Camaro, ready to face the day.
                                     * * *
When Derek parks in the lot in front of the main school building, Stiles hops
straight out of the car and retrieves his backpack from the backseat before
looking around and watching all of the other students mill about. He doesn't
know why, but he expected it to feel different since it's his last year. In
reality, most everything feels exactly the same, the only difference being the
distinct drop in the amount of curious stares he used to get from everyone
before the previous year ended and summer started. He spots most of the rest of
the pack already gathered by the front steps, obviously waiting for him to join
them. Sure enough, after he stares in their direction for a couple of seconds,
the wolves' eyes all flick over to meet his own, smiles appearing on all of
their faces. Jackson is the only one who remains impassive, but Stiles knows
that it's just the other boy keeping up his uncaring façade, having suspected
that the beta has unwilling warmed up to him somewhat since he started taking
care of the pack practically full-time several months ago.
Following Stiles out of the car, Derek rolls his eyes when he immediately hears
an abundance of hushed whispering coming from all the other teenagers in the
area. He thinks they'd have stopped practically salivating over him by now
since he's dropped Stiles off at school on more than one occasion, but still
they whisper excitedly any time he shows his face.
It's marginally annoying, but he's able to block out their words for the most
part. He walks around the car and stops next to his mate, tapping him on the
shoulder to get his attention.
As soon as he sees the devilish glint in Stiles' eyes, he knows what's coming.
Glancing off to the side briefly, Stiles sees that, as expected, the majority
of the girls in their vicinity are all gawking at the man next to him. While he
doesn't blame them—Derek is essentially the epitome of 'tall, dark and
handsome'—he still feels the urge to prove to them all that the man is already
taken in the most obvious way he can think of. He wraps a hand around the back
of Derek's neck and pulls him down so their lips connect, immediately shoving
his tongue inside the alpha's mouth when he gasps in surprise. He moans quietly
and relinquishes control when he feels strong hands cup his cheeks and hold him
in place, grabbing a firm hold of his mate's shoulders instead, his fingers
gripping the leather of his jacket tightly.
When Stiles hears the other students' murmurs of interest change into ones of
disappointment and jealousy, he smirks into the kiss and works to make it more
passionate and loud, pressing his body up close to Derek's until they touch
from chest to crotch. A wolf whistle off in the distance is what finally draws
him to break away from the alpha's demanding lips, and he recognises the voice
as belonging to Isaac. Derek's warm breath blows across his face as their
foreheads rest together.
"Love you, Sourwolf... I'll see you later, 'K?" Stiles says affectionately,
stroking over Derek's bearded cheek before slinging his backpack back into
place on his shoulder and striding off to join the rest of the pack on the
front steps.
Isaac steps away from Danny when he sees that Stiles is finally approaching.
He meets the human teen halfway and practically tackles him to the ground in a
hug. It only lasts a couple of seconds, until an overpowering scent assaults
his nose and he's forced to pull away before he gags, recognising it as one
he's unfortunately come across several times in recent memory. "Ugh, it's good
to see you, but...damn, you stink!" he whines sadly, a little put out that he
can't hang off of Stiles in the puppy-like fashion he's grown accustomed to.
Still, he hops along after the other teen and rejoins the rest of the pack when
Stiles begins walking again.
As Stiles was expecting, as soon as he gets within smelling distance of the
betas, they all instantly recoil from him with horrified expressions on their
faces. He rolls his eyes. "Don't look at me like that! If you want to blame
someone, blame the alpha who wouldn't let me shower before we left the house
earlier..." he excuses, waving a hand in Scott's direction when his best friend
makes a series of choking sounds.
"What is he talking about?" Lydia asks Jackson, her eyes still fixed on Stiles.
She only tears them away when the beta doesn't immediately answer, her
confusion growing even more when she sees the boy's complexion is looking
particularly green. "Jackson?"
Danny peers over at the pair and smirks when he sees how sick his friend looks
to be, the other beta obviously in no position to open his mouth for fear of
something other than words coming out. "Apparently Derek did a bit of,
ah...shall we say, 'scent marking', before he drove Stiles here," he answers,
sharing a knowing look with Lydia when he sees comprehension appear on her
immaculately made-up features.
"I don't really get it, but it might just be an alpha or a mating thing..."
Lydia turns back to Stiles with her eyebrows raised, happy that she doesn't
have the improved sense of smell of a werewolf. Shaking her head in
disapproval, she clamps a hand on both Jackson's and Stiles' shoulders and
leads them inside, heading in the direction of her locker. "Alright, everyone
ready for this?" she asks, inputting her combination and shoving the books she
won't need until later inside.
As she was expecting, her question is answered rather unenthusiastically.
Stiles unzips his backpack and pulls his new schedule out from between the
pages of one of the heavy books within. Glancing down at the paper, he frowns
when he notices that his first class of the day is Chemistry, still with Ms.
Adler from last year. He swears he'll never be free of that woman and laments
the fact that he has to kick off the new school year in her grumpy presence.
"Please tell me at least one of you has Chem first, as well?" he whines, hoping
that the company of his pack will help to make the lessons a little more
tolerable. Looking up, he's pleased to find that Isaac, Danny and Jackson all
nod in response. He smiles back gratefully. At that moment, the first bell
rings, signalling that it's time for everybody to begin heading to their
different classrooms. he bids farewell to the rest of the pack and splits off
from them, trudging along the hallways with the three betas walking along
behind him, keeping their distance. As soon as he steps foot in the room, he
takes a stool in one of the middle rows, only to look around in confusion when
the stool next to him isn't immediately filled by a pack member.
He spots the three of them sat on the other side of the room, Isaac looking
right back at him guiltily. "Uh, guys?"
"Sorry, Stiles, but uh...we're not sitting next to you because of...well,"
Isaac explains, holding a hand up in front of his nose when he finds he can't
get out the actual words. He leans forward and smacks Jackson upside the head
when the other beta laughs derisively in Stiles' direction.
Stiles sighs deeply and turns back to face the front of the room, watching as
the rest of the class filters in through the door. He sympathises with all of
their despondent expressions. "I will have my revenge on that man... Mark my
words," he mutters under his breath, already plotting all of the different ways
he can get back at Derek for inadvertently making him an outcast within his own
pack. He's brought out of his plotting when the teacher walks in, extinguishing
all the talking in the room as her heels click loudly against the hard floor.
As soon as he looks up, Ms. Adler's gaze snaps immediately to meet his, her
eyes narrowing with disdain.
"Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone!" Ms. Adler yells, smacking a hand
down loudly on her desk to make sure everybody's attention is focused on her.
"Before we get started with this last, tedious year, I have an announcement to
make: we have a new student joining us."
She signals to someone who's standing in the hallway, out of sight.
All of the students watch the door with great interest, all of them imagining
just who their new peer could be. Hushed conversations break out as a girl
walks into the room, a bag slung over her shoulder and a couple of books
clutched to her chest. Her hair is a dyed red and falls pin-straight down past
her shoulders. Her heavy bangs are cut just above her eyes, which are so dark
they look almost black. Her outfit looks like a strange compilation of several
different styles and Stiles knows immediately that Lydia would faint at the
sight of it all. She wears black boots on her shoes, with the ends of her torn,
sky blue jeans tucked inside of the tops. A white, smart-looking fitted shirt
is covered almost completely by a thin, red leather jacket.
"This is Charlie Alexander. She just moved here from Florida. I trust you'll
make her feel welcome," Ms. Adler says, snorting to herself as if her words are
the funniest thing she's ever heard. "OK, Ms. Alexander, why don't you take the
empty seat next to Mr. Stilinski for now."
Stiles' eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he looks around the rest of the
room, seeing that the stool next to his is indeed the only free one.
It figures that's just his luck. Nevertheless, when Charlie trudges over to her
designated seat, her eyes downcast as she passes the other students between her
and it, he plasters on a friendly smile when she finally looks up, stalling
almost as if she's waiting for his permission to sit down. He nods obligingly
and turns back to face the blackboard when Ms. Adler begins teaching, not
wanting to be called out by the woman again like he has been several times in
the past. It's always incredibly embarrassing. Luckily, she seemed to ease off
of him slightly following his dad's death, but he suspects that she won't
hesitate to lay into him again if he gives her the chance. As soon as Ms. Adler
gives them instructions to partner up to perform an experiment, he glances
sideways at Charlie as sees that she appears to be studiously examining her
orange fingernails. Pity stirs for her in his gut and he decides to strike up a
conversation in hopes of making her feel more comfortable, remembering how much
it sucks to be an outcast. He waits until she opens her book before speaking,
his friendly smile back in place when she looks up at him, startled.
"Hey, I'm Stiles," he greets, holding out his hand. "It's nice to meet you!"
Charlie tries to return Stiles' smile as best she can, though she thinks it
turns out to be more of a grimace. She shakes his proffered hand. "Charlie,"
she replies timidly, a little thrown by the other teen's exuberance.
"So...Florida, huh?" Stiles continues, flipping to the required page in his own
textbook. "I've never been. What's it like there?" He notices that the teacher
glares in his direction, but since the woman doesn't actually tell him to be
quiet, he figures he's OK to keep talking, at least for the time being. The
more he looks at Charlie, the more he thinks the girl looks like a more rough-
and-tumble version of Lydia. It's a strange thought, one he vows never to share
with her.
Flipping through the pages in her textbook, Charlie doesn't answer immediately.
She's never found it easy to carry a conversation, and having to participate in
one with someone who seems so boisterous on her first day in a new school, in a
new town—in a new state, even—is a lot to deal with.
Having always skirted around the edges of all the different social circles at
her old school, she wonders if Stiles is in a similar situation, considering
that the stool next to his was the only one free. Deciding to just bite the
bullet—making a new friend on her first day would be quite the accomplishment,
she figures—she tucks her hair behind her ear and tries to adopt a more
positive attitude. "It's alright, I guess. Very hot," she replies, feeling
herself grow more confident the more words leave her mouth. "I haven't noticed
too much of a difference between there and here yet, though, to be honest."
"Well, that's gotta be a good thing, right?" Stiles begins theorising.
"It's probably hard enough adjusting to moving to a new place without it
feeling completely different than what you're used to." He glances over
Charlie's shoulder and noticing that Danny, Isaac and Jackson have somehow
managed to form into a threesome instead of having to split off and work in
pairs. He rolls his eyes good-naturedly when Jackson smirks in his direction,
the beta obviously pleased at his getting stuck talking to the new girl.
"So what's your story? Did you already have family in town or...?"
Charlie smiles to herself when she finally happens across the page she's
supposed to be reading from. None of the information written on it seems
familiar to her, though, and she theorises it's just because her old school
taught things in a different order. "I suppose you're right about that. I don't
know what I would've done if my mother had moved us to Alaska or something!"
she laughs quietly, helping Stiles set up the apparatus they'll need for the
day's experiment. "And no, I don't know anyone here; it's just me and my mom.
"We moved because the company she works for transferred her here out of the
blue, into one of the houses in that new development over on Lake Street. It's
a bit of a downgrade compared to our old house, but I suppose we didn't really
need something that big anyway, so it's alright, I guess."
Stiles makes an approving noise, turning on their Bunsen burner. The rest of
the class passes pretty quickly, which he thinks makes a nice change from the
way Chemistry usually seems to drag. He spends the majority of it getting
Charlie to open up more and more and is happy when, by the time the bell rings,
she seems to have come out of her shell considerably. Before she has a chance
to walk off to her next class, he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "You
can sit with me and my friends during lunch, if you don't want to sit alone,"
he offers, seeing Isaac stood waiting for him by the door and beckoning him
over. He back-pedals when he notices the alarmed expression on Charlie's face.
"It's fine if you do, by the way. There's nothing wrong with some good ol'
solitude, but...I thought I'd offer just in case. I promise I won't let anyone
interrogate you too much, but I might not be able to wrangle Lydia and Erica in
as well as the others. Those two are a handful..."
"That's the understatement of the century," Isaac says when he finally comes to
a stop next to Stiles. He breathes through his mouth so he doesn't accidentally
get a whiff of Derek's pungent scent, which still smothers the other boy.
"Charlie, this is Isaac. Isaac, Charlie," Stiles offers, gesturing between the
two. He smiles when the beta gives the redhead an energetic wave. "It's
probably for the best it worked out this way, I think, since Isaac's one of the
easiest members of our little friendship group to get along with. A good choice
for first introductions." He smiles widely when he sees the embarrassed and
grateful expression that appears on the curly-haired teen's face at his
compliment. Turning back to Charlie, he's happy to see that she appears to be
handling meeting another new person relatively well. He got the impression from
her earlier shyness that it's not the easiest thing for her to do. With a
gentle nudge, he pushes Isaac in the direction of the door, following the beta
out into the hallway with Charlie in tow. He glances at her as they walk. "What
class have you got next?"
"Uh..." Charlie says uncertainly, fumbling her schedule out of a folder from
her bag. "History, I think. I don't know where that is, though..." She looks
forward to being lost the majority of the time for the foreseeable future.
Luckily for her, she's usually quick to pick things up.
"Mmm, I've got AP Math next, but don't worry; I think Isaac has History now,
too," Stiles assures, smiling and nodding back when the beta nods his assent.
"See? You can just follow him. He'll take good care of you, I promise." The
trio come to a stop when they reach the end of the corridor where they have to
split off from each other. "So, are we on for lunch?" He's relieved when
Charlie says 'yes'. "Excellent! We'll meet outside the cafeteria, OK? Isaac can
show you the way. C'ya!" Offering a parting wave, Stiles heads in the opposite
direction from Isaac and Charlie, walking toward his next class.
                                     * * *
Everything goes pretty smoothly for the next couple of Stiles' classes.
Lunch was rather eventful, as he had been expecting. He was pleased to find
that Charlie hadn't changed her mind when he'd met her and Isaac by the
cafeteria doors, subsequently going inside and taking seats around their usual
table. He'd been surprised when Isaac actually sat next to him, having thought
that all of the betas would sit on the opposite side, as far away from him as
they could get. The fact that the curly-haired teen had his scarf pulled up
over his face, covering his nose, gives him an explanation as to how the other
boy can suddenly stand to be near him. The rest of the pack was quick to join
them and introductions were made. A stern look had been enough to deter most of
them from asking too many questions too quickly, but just like he'd warned
Charlie of earlier, Lydia and Erica were incorrigible and not even his threats
of refusing to cook them treats later were enough to convince them to lay off.
Luckily, Charlie didn't appear too traumatised by the end of the lunch period,
agreeing to join them all the next day as well.
Stiles tags along with the rest of the boys to the locker room at the end of
the day, hanging around as they all change into their lacrosse gear in
preparation for that day's practice session with Coach Finstock. He doesn't
bother changing his own clothes, planning on following through with his
decision yesterday to have a talk with the coach before the man can send
everybody out onto the field. He notices that the betas are all glancing
repeatedly at him in confusion, but he holds off on explaining for the time
being, figuring that they'll probably overhear his and the coach's discussion
through the office walls, the nosey wolves that they are.
"Alright, you lazy sacks of bones! Let's get this show on the road!" Finstock
greets as he walks out of his office. He urges everyone to leave the locker
room with wild hand gestures, his clipboard almost flying out of his fingers in
his vigour.
The team all follow his instruction willingly, not wanting to be on the
receiving end of any of his scathing remarks.
When the coach's eyes land on him, narrowing suspiciously, Stiles swallows
nervously and steps forward. "Um, can I speak to you before you go out there,
too?" he asks the man, relieved when Finstock nods his assent and leads him
back over to his office. Just before the coach shuts the door, he notices that
Isaac and Scott are peeking back through the exit to the field. He shrugs at
them when they both raise their eyebrows in question. When he and Coach
Finstock are alone, he takes a seat in front of the man's desk. "So..." He's a
little lost about where to begin, but guesses that the best way to go about
this conversation is to just come right out and say it, to rip the bandaid off,
so to speak. "I want to quit the team."
A squawk of, "What?!" comes from the other side of the door, from Scott, Stiles
assumes.
Finstock is left speechless for a few seconds before he clears his throat and
leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. "Well...I'd be
lying if I said I didn't see this coming," he begins, sighing as he stands and
heads over to one of the filing cabinets against the wall.
"You came to practice less and less toward the end of the last year. At first,
I figured it was just because of, uh...your dad and stuff, but then after you
seemed to get back to your old self and you still missed several practices in a
row? Yeah, this isn't unexpected. In fact...I already have you down on my
records as no longer being a member of the lacrosse team." He pulls out a
folder from one of the sliding drawers and leafs through the papers within.
"Mmm, I thought that, since I don't really play anyway, the time I waste during
practice could be better spent elsewhere," Stiles explains, fidgeting nervously
when Finstock looks up at the mention of time-wasting. "And I'll still be at
all the games and stuff to cheer on Scott and Isaac and everyone."
"Well, I guess I'll just say I'm sorry to lose you. Since I'll only see you in
class now, I'll have to pick on you more often to make the most of it,"
Finstock says, chuckling to himself as he sets the folder down on his desk and
walks around it. He holds out his hand for Stiles to shake before ushering him
out of the door again and back out into the locker room. "See you around,
Stilinski." With that, he walks outside to the field, intent on putting the
remaining members of the lacrosse team through their paces, suspecting that the
majority of them will have slacked off over the summer. He'll no doubt have to
stay on their asses while he whips them back into shape in time for the new
season to begin.
Stiles lingers in the locker room for a few minutes before heading out to the
parking lot, where Derek is probably already there waiting for him.
He runs his fingers down his locker and feels a little sad that he'll never use
it again. While he still knows he made the right decision in quitting the
team—more and more of his time will be taken up by his training with Deaton as
they venture into the more difficult aspects of learning how to use magic and
work different spells—lacrosse has been a substantial part of his life for
years now, ever since Scott made him go to tryouts their freshman year.
Sighing, Stiles gives the room one last once-over before leaving and going
outside. As he was expecting, when he gets around to the front of the building,
he sees that the majority of students have already cleared off home for the
day, leaving the lot practically empty. Derek's familiar black Camaro is parked
right next to the front steps, so he heads over to it and smiles when the alpha
gets out of the car to greet him. "Hey, Sourwolf," he says, returning Derek's
hug when he finds himself pressed against the man's broad chest, his mate's
strong arms keeping him in place.
"You still smell like me," Derek growls, a rumble of approval building in his
chest as he shoves his nose in Stiles' neck without preamble. It's good to know
his earlier plan worked, his scent strong enough to overpower all of the others
his mate would've encountered during the day. There's hardly a single trace of
any of the other students on the teen, but there are two small ones that stick
out. He recognises one as belonging to Isaac, but who the second one belongs to
is a mystery to him.
"Yeah, yeah, big guy, I'm still yours," Stiles says obligingly, patting Derek
on the back a couple of times before making to pull away again. He catches
sight of Charlie getting into her car on the other side of the lot over the
alpha's shoulder and waves in her direction, frowning in confusion when the
girl looks at him with wide eyes before driving away quickly.
Shaking his head, he figures he'll just ask Charlie about her strange behaviour
when he sees her the next day.
Before Derek can turn back to the Camaro, he pokes the man roughly in the
centre of his chest, levelling him with an accusatory glare. "Mark my words,
Der: I will be getting my revenge on you at some point in the near future.
Because of you smothering me in the scent of your come earlier, none of the
betas would even come near me today."
Derek smirks before sliding behind the wheel of his car and turning the keys in
the ignition. "Bring it on," he challenges. "I should've gotten you to record
their reactions... I'd have paid good money to see them, especially Jackson's."
He turns onto the road leading to the closest entrance to the preserve.
Grudgingly, Stiles allows a smile to appear on his lips as he flashes back to
the horrified expression on Jackson's face when they'd met up that morning. "I
have to admit, that part of the whole thing was a little amusing," he relents,
watching the trees blur past the window as Derek speeds them to his session
with Deaton. When silence falls inside the car, he remembers his and the
alpha's conversation before they'd gotten out of bed. "So how did the whole
job-search thing go?
"Find anything promising?"
"There were a couple of things that looked pretty interesting," Derek explains,
making a small detour to the local McDonald's and pulling up to the drive thru.
He turns to look at Stiles expectantly as they wait for the car in front of
theirs to give their order to the employee on the other side of the speaker.
"You hungry? I haven't eaten all day, so I feel like I could eat a whole cow."
Soon enough, he pulls the car to a stop in one of the parking spaces next to
the building, taking all of their chosen foods out of the brown paper bag he
was given at the third window. It's not too often that Stiles allows him or
anyone else in the pack to consume fast food, so every time the teen does, he
makes sure to savour it. He's tried a couple of times in the past to sneak some
during the day if Stiles is ever off doing something else, but he quickly
discovered that it's not a good idea to try and outsmart his mate. The human
teen had ended up managing to rope Isaac in on his plans to get the pack on a
healthier diet, getting the beta to use his nose to ferret out any infractions.
Stiles had given him a whole speech both times he'd tried, saying that just
because he's a werewolf doesn't mean he doesn't have to worry about his health.
"So?" Stiles says around a mouthful of french fries. He looks down at the food
in his lap and frowns when he sees that he's almost finished it all.
Ordinarily, he would have protested Derek's suggestion of fast food, but he
knows that his training session with Deaton is likely to be quite tiring, so
eating something—even if that something doesn't have much nutritional value—is
probably a good idea. He doesn't think he'll be in the mood to cook anything
when they're done and he and Derek get back to the house. When the alpha just
looks at him dumbly, he rolls his eyes before expanding on his question:
"The job search? You were about to tell me how it went before we got food."
Nodding, Derek devours the last of his cheeseburger before balling up the
wrapper and tossing it in the brown paper bag with the rest of the rubbish.
"Right... As I was saying, I found two potential jobs that I might want to
apply for," he begins, using a tissue to clean the grease from his fingers.
"One of them is a job at the local museum, helping to curate exhibitions and
stuff like that, but I think I'd prefer to get the other one. The company is
based back in New York, but I could do most of the work from here at home. I'd
only have to go there every few months to make sure everything's on track and
everyone's on the same page. I'd be sort of like...an architectural
consultant."
"I'm still having trouble believing that you were a double major in art and
architecture..." Stiles comments offhandedly, cleaning off his hands as well
and dumping the bag down by his feet in the footwell. When he looks back up at
Derek, he smiles abashedly before explaining.
"I guess it's just me thinking stereotypically, but you don't really look like
the type to be interested in stuff like that, much less that you'd actually
pursue it as a vocation."
"I suppose I can understand that," Derek accepts, starting the Camaro back up
and continuing their journey to the preserve. It doesn't take long before he's
pulling to a stop again next to the road closest to the Nemeton. He decides to
be chivalrous and carry Stiles' backpack for him, his eyes widening when he
first picks it up since he didn't expect it to be quite so heavy. "What do you
have in here? A dictionary?"
Stiles shakes his head, skipping ahead a couple of paces and walking backward
instead so that he's facing Derek. "Nope. I have two of them," he says, keeping
his face as expressionless as possible. A smirk manages to slip onto his face
when the alpha falters in his steps and looks up at him incredulously, his eyes
wide. "Honestly, Sourwolf... I'm totally adding Fruits Basket to the list of
things I'm making you watch, just so you know. You miss far too many of my
references, I actually feel a little embarrassed for you." He winks and laughs
brightly when Derek just rolls his eyes and soldiers on. It's not long before
they reach the clearing where the Nemeton sits, finding Deaton perched atop the
edge of the stump. The man looks impatient.
Deaton's head snaps up when he hears the approach of two pairs of footsteps.
He raises an eyebrow at Stiles, looking unimpressed. "Do we need to have
another talk about the importance of promptness, Mr. Stilinski?" he asks,
standing and walking over to the teen. "I shouldn't think I'd need to remind
you that these sessions are imperative if you still wish to be Derek's
emissary. Do you? Because you don't appear to be taking this very seriously."
Derek speaks up before Deaton can go on any further, coming to Stiles' defence.
"It's my fault we're late," he begins, moving forward so that he stands
protectively a little in front of his mate. "I stopped off on the way to get
some food."
Narrowing his eyes at the older man, almost as if he's challenging him to
disregard his explanation, he's pleased when Deaton seems to deflate, releasing
a deep sigh before turning back to Stiles.
"Just...try and make sure it doesn't happen again, alright?" Deaton asks,
nodding in satisfaction when Stiles hums his assent. "Now, before we actually
start this session, I have a little surprise for the both of you. We have a
guest, someone whom I trust you will both remember. They'll be sticking around
for a little while to assist me with Stiles' training." He looks back over his
shoulder and waits, knowing that who he's speaking of will have heard him and
taken his words as their cue to make their entrance.
Stiles steps sideways so he can see around Deaton, watching for any movement in
the trees. He's incredibly curious about who this new, second mentor could
possibly be. His eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when the
mystery person finally appears.
***** Foresight *****
When lacrosse practice comes to an end, Isaac, Scott, Jackson and Danny head
back to the locker room and strip out of their gear before stepping into the
showers to clean the sweat off of their bodies. It doesn't take long and
they're dressed again and leaving before the rest of the team even has a chance
to pull off their own soiled clothes. The day's training had been rather
pointless; the coach spent the entirety of it shouting insults at them while
making them run endless laps. They guess they should've expected it, though,
since Finstock has never exactly been the most sane of coaches. The betas find
Lydia and Allison waiting for them when they get outside, the pair sat atop a
low wall with their heads bent together.
"What are you two still doing here?" Isaac asks when he reaches the two girls,
a confused frown on his face. Neither of them have ever stayed behind to wait
for practice to finish before, so seeing them there now doesn't make any sense
to him. "We didn't have plans, did we?" He glances sideways at Danny and
breathes a sigh of relief when the other teen shakes his head.
"We didn't, no," Lydia replies, hopping down from the wall and fixing her
skirt, running her hands down the material to get as many of the wrinkles out
as she can, "but I thought we could go and see a movie or something since I
have nothing better to do. You in?" The way she flicks her eyes between all of
the betas' faces tells them that she's not really asking, but instead telling.
When they all accept, Lydia smiles, pleased, and leads the way to their cars.
It doesn't take them long to drive over to the movie theatre and once inside
they spend several long minutes in a heated debate over what to actually watch.
The boys all refuse to see Step Up: Revolution and the girls refuse to see The
Dark Knight Rises. Eventually, Lydia narrows her eyes at Jackson to get him to
agree with her suggestion of Katy Perry: Part of Me. She smirks when the boy
immediately changes his tune to match her own.
Danny and Isaac both roll their eyes and just go along with it to avoid anymore
arguing. Scott doesn't even appear to be aware of what's happening, the
crooked-jawed beta too busy staring at Allison while she smiles sweetly back at
him. It isn't a coincidence that the girl chose that moment to bring out her
pearly whites. They pay for their tickets, choosing three of the double seats
right up at the back of the theatre so they can cuddle up with their partners.
"So, what did you guys think of the new girl?" Danny asks when they've gotten
comfortable. Since the movie hasn't started yet and there aren't that many
other people in the room, he doesn't feel bad about talking. He takes a sip of
his chosen beverage and holds out his bag of popcorn obligingly when Isaac
makes grabby hands at him, rolling his eyes at the childish yet somehow
endearing gesture.
"I thought Charlie was OK," Allison replies, shifting sideways in her seat so
that she's pressed up against Scott's side. It feels a little odd that Kira
isn't there with them, but the girl had said her parents wanted her home right
after school that day. "A little shy, but that's to be expected, I guess. I
remember how scared I was when I was the new girl. It was good of Stiles to
talk to her and try to make her feel welcome. It's not easy moving to a new
place where you don't know anyone." She smiles to herself as reminisces back to
her first few days attending Beacon Hills High, when Lydia had taken her under
her wing and Scott had been really friendly and understanding. The two
definitely helped her transition.
Lydia takes out her phone and answers a text from her mother, the woman asking
whether or not she's gotten home yet. "That girl needs a major makeover," she
offers, shuddering again as she remembers the disaster that Charlie's outfit
had been. She'd looked almost as hopeless as she used to think Stiles did,
before the boy had won her over and his lack of fashion sense started to become
more charming than anything.
"I swear, if she's going to be a part of our little social group from now on,
I'll need to get my hands on her wardrobe at some point before I go insane.
Incidentally, why did Stiles rope her into sitting with us at lunch? It wasn't
like you not to cling to him like an affection-starved puppy, Isaac. What
gives?"
"It's because of how much he reeked of Derek..." Isaac replies sadly, just the
act of recalling the scent making him wrinkle his nose in disgust again. "I sat
with Jackson and Danny in Chemistry instead, since the smell wasn't so bad from
the other side of the room. That left the stool next to Stiles free, so when
Charlie was introduced, she ended up sitting there. I don't know why he struck
up a conversation with her, but you know how nice he is. I guess he was just
trying to make her feel less afraid about being in an unfamiliar environment.
She did look really nervous at first."
The lights begin to go down just as Isaac finishes speaking, signalling that
the movie is about to start. Everybody stops talking as they watch the
trailers, all of them on the lookout for anything that might be worth watching
in the coming months when it comes out.
The betas wince whenever there's a loud noise, whether from an explosion or
when the musical scores get too loud. Going to the movie theatre now that they
have werewolf hearing is always a bit of a painful experience, so they spend
the majority of it with their hands covering their ears.
This lowers the volume to a more acceptable level.
Jackson sighs deeply when the title card flashes up on the screen, looking down
at his lap and reconsidering his life choices. "I can't believe I let you talk
me into watching this crap," he whispers to Lydia, praying that this doesn't
turn into The Notebook 2.0. He doesn't think he can survive his girlfriend
becoming that obsessed with another girly film again, since she more often than
not ropes him into watching them with her. He rolls his eyes when Lydia just
smacks him once on the arm and tells him to shut up, thinking that she's lucky
he cares for her enough to put up with her controlling ways. He dutifully sits
through the feature in silence, reluctantly letting himself get sucked into
Katy Perry's backstory and her struggle to achieve success. It actually opens
his eyes to how hard the woman works, since he's always just assumed she was
another manufactured pop star that has gotten everything handed to her on a
silver platter the entirety of her life.
He's still not a fan of her music, but he supposes that she seems like a decent
sort of person, at least. Nevertheless, he's grateful when the ending credits
begin to roll, getting to his feet and following his companions down the steps
to the theatre's exit.
When they step outside into the parking lot, the pack is surprised to find the
sun beginning to set, painting the sky a deep orange that seems somehow
sinister. Lydia gets a strange feeling in her gut as she follows Jackson to his
Porsche and can't stop herself from looking around the place to see if anybody
or anything is watching her. She hasn't been doing much to get in touch with
her banshee powers lately, having gotten distracted from trying to learn how to
understand them. She'd focused instead on making sure Stiles kept up with his
school work so he didn't have to repeat a grade.
As a result, she's still not too sure what to think when she feels something
like this, whether it's real or just her overactive imagination playing tricks
on her. She guesses it's the latter when nothing appears out of the ordinary
and turns back to Jackson, noticing that the beta is staring at her with open
concern on his face.
She smiles and shakes her head to let him know that everything is fine before
getting into the passenger seat of his car so he can drive her back to school,
to her own vehicle.
To take her mind off of her jangled nerves, Lydia spends the entire car ride
pestering Jackson with questions about the movie, aiming to see whether he was
paying attention or not. She smirks at him when she sees that her badgering is
getting on his nerves, very much enjoying winding the beta up. To her surprise,
Jackson is able to answer most of her questions correctly. Figuring that she'll
be nice after a while, she changes the topic and asks how practice had gone
earlier instead, sharing her boyfriend's annoyance at Coach Finstock when she's
told about how much of a tyrant the man had been.
Everybody bids farewell to each other when they get back to the school's
parking lot, splitting off to their respective cars and bikes and heading home.
Lydia feels an itch at the base of her skull the entire drive, unable to shake
the feeling that somebody is watching her. When she parks in her driveway, she
races to get inside the front door of her house, practically slamming it behind
herself like there's something chasing her when she crosses the threshold.
"Pull yourself together, Lydia... There's nothing there," she assures herself
as she walks through to the kitchen to get a drink. She frowns when she
realises that her mother isn't home and pulls out her phone again, sending off
a text to the woman asking where she is since she was so adamant about her
getting home as soon as possible earlier.
Her mom's absence seems conspicuous, but Lydia feels relief when she gets a
response reasonably quickly, telling her that her mother ended up staying after
school to do some more preparation for future lessons and that she won't be
home for hours.
Lydia sighs and thinks that it's just like her mother to nag her about being
home at a reasonable time, only to not follow her own advice.
Now that she's in the familiarity of her own house, she feels a lot calmer than
she did on the drive over. Her bag is heavy as she carries it upstairs to her
room, intent on making a start on the ludicrous amount of homework her teachers
had given her. She doesn't know why they bother, since she's more than proved
herself capable. She figures she would pass every test they could throw at her
with flying colours without doing any of the prep work. Even so, to stay on
their good sides, she ploughs through as much of it as she can that night
before turning in, brushing her teeth and tying her hair up before climbing
into bed.
The feeling of being watched returns as she lies there in the dark and,
glancing at the window, she frowns when she notices that the curtains are drawn
back, revealing the dark night sky. There aren't any stars or clouds. She turns
her back to it and closes her eyes, trying to ignore the itching of her skin
and the restless beating her of heart.
                                     * * *
It takes Stiles' brain a few seconds to catch up and realise that he knows
their new companion. Holly Thomas looks so different from the last time he saw
her that he didn't immediately recognise her. The burns and scars on her face
are almost nonexistent and her skin looks near-smooth, flushed with a healthy-
looking tan. Her blonde hair falls in waves almost to her waist. "Oh my God..."
he breathes, continuing to stare dumbly even when the woman raises an
inquisitive eyebrow in his direction. "Wha-...how? How is this possible?"
Glancing sideways at Derek, Stiles sees that the alpha is also in a similar
state of disbelief. As far as he knew, what Landon did to Holly was supposed to
have made her disabled for the rest of her life, yet here she stands.
"It's quite simple, really," Holly says, closing the gap between them all and
hugging Deaton briefly, greeting her old friend. "When you took out Landon, the
binding spell he used on me died along with him. After that, I was finally able
to access my magic again and use it to heal myself. There's still a little bit
of work left to go," she gestures to the last couple of burns on her face, "but
it shouldn't take me too long."
"Did you bring what I asked?" Deaton asks Stiles eventually, after the clearing
remains silent. He holds out his hand when the teen nods and takes his bag back
from Derek, rifling through its contents and pulling out an old book. He takes
it from Stiles and sets it on the Nemeton, opening it and flipping to the
required pages. "Now...the first thing I want you to understand is that what
we're going to be teaching you isn't easy. It'll probably take several sessions
for you to grasp it and even longer until you master it." From his own bag he
pulls out several tall pillar candles and a series of small jars containing
strange herbs. "Stiles? Would you care to do the honours?"
Stepping forward tentatively, Stiles walks up to stand next to Deaton and calls
on his powers. It's been quite some time since he used them last, so he doesn't
see results immediately.
He makes sure that Holly remains in his field of vision the entire time. Even
though the woman seemed reasonably nice when he and Derek visited her and her
sister, Maria, in Oak Grove, Oregon, all those months ago, he doesn't know
enough about her just yet to trust her fully, even if she does have Deaton's
vote of confidence. Refocusing, the corner of his mouth twitches upward
slightly when the first wick ignites under his fingertip. He lights the
remaining candles one by one until they're all burning in a neat circle around
the edge of the large tree stump. It creates quite a mystical atmosphere.
When Deaton signals for him to step away again, Stiles turns, intent on heading
back to stand next to Derek. He frowns in confusion when he finds no sign of
the alpha. "Derek?" he calls confusedly, his eyes flitting around the clearing
in search of his mate.
"Up here."
Stiles jumps when Derek responds and, looking up to where the man's voice came
from, he sees the alpha perched on a thick branch in one of the trees. He tilts
his head to the side when their eyes meet, wondering what possible reason his
mate could have for sitting so high up off of the ground. "What the hell are
you doing all the way up there?" he asks, narrowing his eyes when Derek smirks
down at him, obviously amused.
Derek gestures around the clearing before shuffling back until he leans against
the trunk, his legs hanging down on either side of the branch. "I wanted a good
view," he explains simply, his smirk turning into a grin when Stiles just huffs
up at him and turns away again. He very much enjoys winding the teen up and
loves that it's turned into something of a game between the two of them, a
constant back and forth to see who can annoy the other the most.
Luckily, they both seem to know each other's boundaries and it never gets out
of hand or goes too far.
Moving back over to stand near Deaton and Holly, Stiles watches the pair work
with fascination as they crush several of the herbs with a mortar and pestle,
adding some water until it all forms into a fine paste. He still doesn't
recognise any of the ingredients, though he supposes it shouldn't surprise him
since he and Deaton have only just begun to go through all the different types
there are in the world. When Deaton beckons him closer, he steps forward
slowly, afraid that he'll have to eat whatever his two mentors have concocted.
Fortunately for his stomach, when he gets close enough, Deaton just dips his
fingers in the paste and draws several lines of the stuff across his face,
three on his forehead and two on each cheek. It tingles strangely as it starts
to dry on his skin. "Is it supposed to feel so weird?" he asks, fighting the
urge to scratch at it or wipe it all off entirely.
"It's supposed to itch a little, if that's what you mean," Deaton explains,
packing away most of the equipment again now that he has no more use for it.
"OK... You'll need to climb up and sit in the very centre of the Nemeton." He
pauses and looks back in confusion when Stiles doesn't immediately move to get
into position. "What's wrong?"
Stiles steps forward slowly, reluctant to put himself in close proximity to the
Nemeton. "Is it really necessary for me to get up there?" he asks eventually,
his voice coming out a little whiny. "It's just...I don't exactly have fond
memories of this place, considering a bunch of us almost died here not even a
year ago..."
"I'm afraid so, Stiles," Deaton says calmly, hoping that his relaxed demeanour
will help make the teen feel more at ease. "You'll need the Nemeton's help to
tap into your full powers, at least for the first few times. Even then, it'll
still be extraordinarily difficult to accomplish." He waits until Stiles gets
into position before continuing, guiding the teen so that his hands rest palms-
down on his knees, his legs crossed. "What you're about to do is different for
everybody, so I'm afraid I cannot give you a heads-up on whatever it is you'll
experience. Odds are nothing at all will happen, but be prepared just in case.
The magic you're working is often unpredictable and can seem frightening at
first. There are many different types of magic in the world and every person
will be able to wield them in different ways. Most people who have this power
running through their veins will only be able to master one or two of these
different types in their lifetimes, leaving the rest to be relatively weak.
"It's a very rare thing to find somebody who can do more than that. Close your
eyes, take a deep breath, and hold it. Try to empty your mind of everything but
the sound of my voice. Now, breathe out. Keep doing that until you begin to
feel something building in your fingertips."
Stiles follows Deaton's instructions as best he can, continuing to simply
breathe for several long minutes.
It's incredibly difficult for him to keep his mind so focused on one task,
since it's normally so cluttered with endless thoughts. The preserve seems to
have gone completely still around him and he can hear nothing but his own
breathing and the pumping of his blood in his ears. The smells of the forest
seem to become richer, growing more intense until it gets to be too much and he
has to break his concentration and cover his nose with his hand.
Blinking open his eyes, Stiles gasps when he finds himself alone in the
clearing. Not even Derek is up in the tree anymore. Darkness seems to have
fallen suddenly, the candles around him providing the only source of light in
the area.
He makes to stand and begins to panic when, once he's at his full height again,
he finds he cannot move his feet from the stump on which he stands. "What the
hell is happening...?" he whispers, trying and failing to get himself to move.
It's as if the soles of his shoes are glued to the wood. His efforts are
brought to a halt when he hears a twig snap a short distance away, the sound
seeming louder than it should because everything else is so silent. He freezes
in place, listening attentively to the sound of approaching footsteps. They're
incredibly light, almost inaudible in their softness. Holding his breath and
turning his head slowly, he peers behind himself and frowns when he finds that
he's still alone. "Hello?" he calls, unable to decide whether he actually wants
to receive an answer to his question or not.
After staring off into the distance yields no results, he tries again to
unstick his feet, his eyes widening when he finds success this time. He nearly
stumbles sideways off of the Nemeton in his surprise and, as it is, he knocks a
couple of candles to the ground, extinguishing their small flames. He jumps
when a voice speaks to him, right next to his ear.
"You should be more careful. Wouldn't want to burn the whole preserve down now,
would we?"
Yelling in shock, Stiles leaps sideways and grunts when he connects painfully
with the ground. He groans when he pushes himself up again, rubbing at his
forehead as he waits for his eyes to refocus. When he glances back up at the
Nemeton, his heart skips in his chest when he finds two doubles of himself
standing above him. Terror begins flooding his system when he realises that he
recognises one of them, its emaciated body and its dark, menacing eyes
promising nothing but chaos and death. The other double looks exactly like he
does now, right down to his clothes and the herbs smeared across his face.
"You're not real..." Stiles breathes out, cursing Deaton for sending him
wherever he is without giving him more time to understand what he'd possibly
find on the other side. As far as he knows, what he's seeing is a figment of
his imagination, but because of his untapped magic, he can't be sure. He snaps
out of his thoughts when he hears his darker double speaking to him again.
"Right you are. I'm not real. At least...not yet," it says, hopping down
gracefully from the Nemeton and walking leisurely over to stand next to Stiles.
Crawling away as fast as he can, Stiles swallows nervously when his back hits a
tree. He feels confused and is just wondering why his double hasn't made an
attempt to attack him yet when he sees something else move on the other side of
the clearing. Allison comes tumbling out from between two trees, tripping up
over her own feet, her palms pressed tightly to her eyes. Her clothes look torn
up and there are several scratches and bruises on her bare arms and legs. Both
of Stiles' doubles track his movement as he gets to his feet and circles around
them to get to Allison. He frowns when he tries to reach out and touch her, his
hand going right through her arm as if she's not really there, which, he
supposes she isn't. Still, he figures it can't hurt to see if he can get her
attention anyway as he's apparently able to communicate with his doubles.
"Allison?" he calls cautiously, wondering why it is that the girl has her hands
covering her eyes. It can't be because of anything good, especially now that
he's close enough to see the trails of tears running steadily down her cheeks.
"Can you hear me?"
Stiles gasps when Allison lowers her hands and looks around the place wildly.
All he sees is white, not a trace of pupil or iris in either of her wide, wet
eyes. He recoils when Allison yells, "Why can't I see anything?!" before
stumbling away again, tripping and falling to her knees when she reaches the
Nemeton. He follows her warily, very much conscious of the fact that his two
doubles are still watching him eerily. When something cold touches his cheek,
he reaches up a hand and rubs across his skin, a little surprised to find that
there's no trace of whatever Deaton had smeared across it earlier.
Instead, his hand comes away wet with what looks like water. Blinking up at the
sky, his mouth falls open when he sees it's full of clouds, from all of which
snow begins falling heavily. He wonders whether it's winter wherever he is.
"Nope, wrong. Try again."
Narrowing his eyes at his darker double, Stiles steps back from Allison and
accepts that he can do nothing for her, especially since it seems she's not
even aware of his presence. He's about to ask his double what it means when a
fifth person joins their growing group in the clearing. Derek appears next to
him, almost as if he shot right up out of the ground. He certainly didn't hear
the alpha approaching.
Derek is naked, his body covered in a disgusting clear slime that smells
faintly of something Stiles knows but can't put a name to. The alpha's eyes
look unfocused, flashing back and forth between their natural hazel colour and
the red that signifies his alpha status. Sweat beads quickly on his forehead,
running down his neck and onto his chest, which heaves with great, laboured
breaths. Stiles has never seen the man look so ill, not even when Kate Argent
shot him in the arm with a wolfsbane-laced bullet. When he reaches out, trying
to see if his hand will just pass right through his mate like it did with
Allison, Derek suddenly snarls at him and lunges forward, fangs and claws
bared. He flails backward, a startled yelp escaping his mouth when he lands
painfully on his hip on one of the Nemeton's thick roots.
Looking up frantically, Stiles whips his head around when he sees that he
appears to be alone in the clearing once more. He winces as he pushes himself
up, leaning against the stump when his hip protests the movement.
"What the hell was that...?" he asks pointlessly, swallowing nervously as he
readies himself for whatever else might show up.
A flash of red appears between two of the trees, catching Stiles' attention.
His whole body tenses in preparation to run. As it is, he only manages to
stumble backward a couple of steps before falling on his ass again when another
person appears in the clearing. His mouth drops open when he sees their face.
"Landon...?" he whispers, his eyes wide and his heart beginning to beat faster
in his chest before he notices that something seems off about the man.
For one thing, his hair isn't bleached white and there aren't any scars running
along his face or arms. For another, the last time he saw his old tormentor, he
burned him to death. The person in front of him isn't burned in the slightest,
though a large patch of red does stain his shirt and the top of his jeans.
Finally, the man's face seems kind, a far cry from the malice that always
contorted Landon's own hideously. So this is Jeremy, he thinks, unable to quite
believe how much Derek's other uncle looks just like him, even though they're
not related by blood. He figures that it must be the beard.
"This could get very dangerous for you, Stiles," Jeremy says, his face growing
serious. "She couldn't come and see you herself, but your mother gave me a
message to pass onto you: 'The power you inherited has the potential to destroy
you. You have to be careful'."
Stiles gasps when Jeremy's voice changes into his mom's as he relays her
message. It's been years since he's heard it, so long that he'd almost begun to
forget what it sounded like.
Before he can even try to comprehend when the man was saying, Jeremy disappears
as quick as he'd come. Stiles is left staring at the space the older man had
occupied, still gaping dumbly. He jumps when he feels phantom hands wrap around
his biceps, squeezing roughly. Another voice calls to him, sounding far away.
The next time he blinks, he finds himself back in the clearing under the sun's
rays, the worried faces of Derek, Holly and Deaton looking right back at him.
The grip on his arms loosens as Derek sighs in relief, the man's warm breath
blowing across his face.
"Finally... I was starting to worry that we wouldn't get you back," Derek
whispers from where he's crouched in front of Stiles. He pulls the teen to his
feet and leads him to the edge of the Nemeton and back off onto solid ground.
Taking a tissue from his jacket pocket, he makes a start at cleaning his mate's
face of Deaton's concoction, his worry beginning to fade away again now that
Stiles has snapped out of whatever trance he was in. At first, he'd simply been
confused when the teen had gone completely still, his breathing and heart rate
sedate in their pace. It was such a contrast to Stiles' usual demeanour that he
couldn't help but hop down from his spot up in his tree to investigate. Deaton
and Holly had shared his concerns, but both warned him against interfering,
trying to convince him to just let Stiles see it through and come back to them
on his own time. For a while, he'd alternated between shifting restlessly from
foot to foot and pacing in large circles around the clearing.
After half an hour, however, when the teen's breathing hitched suddenly and his
heart skipped, he'd made a beeline for his mate, ignoring Deaton's hurried
words of caution and hopping up next to Stiles on the Nemeton to wake the teen
up himself.
When the last of the mess is gone from Stiles' skin, Derek tosses the tissue
aside and pulls the teen into his arms when he sees panic is still tightening
his features. He turns to look at Deaton. "What the hell was that?! I thought
you said he wouldn't be able to do anything the first few times?" His tone is
sharp, the beginnings of anger building in his gut.
He's mad at the veterinarian for putting his mate in what he thinks now was a
dangerous situation.
Deaton holds his palms out toward Derek placatingly, keeping his own voice calm
and soothing to try and defuse the tense situation. "I don't know what that
was. He shouldn't have been able to reach such a state without some serious
practice beforehand..." he trails off, his eyes flicking down to what little he
can see of Stiles' face. Most of it is hidden by Derek's shoulder and arm.
Eyeing Deaton warily, Derek refocuses on the shaking body in his arms, shushing
Stiles when he hears a quiet whimper escape the teen's lips. He wonders what it
is his mate could possibly have seen or experienced to send him back into such
a fragile and vulnerable state and knows that he'll willingly share the burden
whenever Stiles appears ready to talk about it. He rubs his left hand up and
down the teen's back and runs the fingers of his right through his hair,
muttering nonsensical assurances in his ear the entire time. Eventually, Stiles
pulls away from him and runs his hands down his face tiredly, his whole body
seeming to sag with exhaustion.
The sound of whispering reaches his ears and, after checking to make sure that
Stiles will be OK for a minute, Derek steps around the teen until he stands in
front of Deaton and Holly, glaring daggers at the pair of them with his arms
crossed in front of his chest.
"Explain," he bites out tersely.
"It seems that Stiles has more power at his disposal than either of us
anticipated," Holly begins, a hint of awe in her tone. She glances behind
herself when she hears movement and sees that Deaton has begun to clear up all
of the candles still sitting on the Nemeton, blowing out each of the flames in
turn. "I've never seen or heard of anybody reaching that level of meditation on
their first try before... He has a gift, that's for sure. He may even be able
to master all the different types of magic if he tries, and that hasn't been
done since the beginning of the last century."
Derek is left speechless by this information. He's unable to comprehend the
magnitude of what he's hearing, but at the very least, he's even more relieved
now than he was before that Landon didn't manage to get his greedy hands on
Stiles' power. Who knows what kind of destruction his late uncle could have
caused with it all.
"Whatever. Are we done for the day?" he asks, not really caring if either of
the other two say 'no'.
"Yes, I suppose we are," Deaton replies, slinging his bag over his shoulder and
smoothing down his coat. He looks briefly at Stiles before flicking his eyes
back over to meet Derek's impatient ones. "I'll need to see Stiles slightly
earlier than usual at our next session at the end of the week so we can go over
everything he saw."
Nodding politely, Derek stuffs the book Stiles had brought with him back inside
of his backpack and walks over to the teen. He wraps his free arm around his
mate's shoulders and guides him through the trees, heading in the direction of
his car, intent on taking him home immediately so he can rest. The return trip
seems to take longer because of their slower pace, the sun falling above their
heads the entire time. He glances sideways when he hears Stiles sigh, taking in
the way the teen has his head tilted down, his chin almost touching his chest
as he just stares at his feet instead of looking at where they're going. "You
OK?" he asks, frowning in concern when Stiles just nods in return instead of
opening his mouth.
The fact that his mate isn't his usual verbose self worries him immensely,
since every time it's happened in the past, it's usually been caused by some
great emotional distress. He's relieved when the Camaro finally comes into
view, theorising that being back home, possibly snuggled up on their bed
beneath the blankets, will go a long way to making Stiles feel alright again.
As Derek drives them back to the house, Stiles stares out of the window as he
thinks over everything he saw in his vision, if that's what it even was.
None of it makes sense to him and he wonders if any of it was even real. It was
one shock after another and he thinks that it was just typical that the worst
one would come last and hit him right where it hurts, so close to home. When
they reach their destination, his body runs on autopilot as Derek guides him
inside and ushers him immediately up the stairs. There isn't another pack
member in sight, a realisation for which he is incredibly grateful since he
doesn't think either of them would make the best company. He doesn't bother to
put up any protests, the whole ordeal having really left him feeling worn out.
All of his muscles seem to ache and it was enough of a struggle walking through
the preserve without wincing with every step.
Derek guides Stiles into their bedroom and over to the bed, pushing on his
shoulders to get him to sit down on the edge of the mattress. He's starting to
think that perhaps the teen delving deeper and deeper into the world of magic
might not be such a good thing.
Sure, on the one hand, it means Stiles will be able to defend himself and the
rest of the pack a lot more easily, which will no doubt prove to be a necessity
given their track record with enemies trying to kill them nearly constantly. On
the other hand, however, the fact that one small meditative session seems to
have shocked his mate to the core gives Derek major reservations. He avoids
bringing the subject up just yet, though, wanting to wait until Stiles is in a
better headspace. Instead, he strips off the teen's shirt, not missing the way
his mate's face tenses up slightly when he lifts his arms above his head. He
narrows his eyes, a little upset that Stiles would try and hide from him that
he's in any sort of pain.
"What's wrong?" he asks, letting a little bit of his alpha authority bleed into
his voice to let the teen know he means business and won't allow the question
to be dismissed.
Rolling his eyes when Derek crouches down in front of him and begins removing
his shoes like he's a preschooler, Stiles bats away the alpha's hands when they
reach for the zipper of his red chinos. "It's nothing, really," he begins,
quickly giving up on hiding his discomfiture when Derek just stares at him, one
unimpressed eyebrow raised. "Alright, fine! If you really wanna know that bad,
I might be a little sore after whatever it was that happened earlier. Like,
everywhere."
He lifts his hips off of the bed and slides his chinos down his legs before
kicking them off. They fall in a heap a few feet away, leaving him in just his
underwear.
Making a noise of understanding, Derek stands again and heads into the bathroom
without saying another word. After turning on the light, he immediately turns
the hot tap and checks the water temperature as it fills the bath. He doesn't
really like using it unless Stiles insists on it, but since he's feeling
generous and because the teen's muscles ache, he pours a liberal amount of
bubble bath in the water.
Derek watches as it begins spreading and forming into the froth that Stiles
loves to use to mould his hair into a multitude of ridiculous styles. When he
sees that the bath is almost filled to the right height, he shrugs out of his
jacket and strips off his own shirt as he walks back into the bedroom to fetch
his mate. "C'mon," he says gently, helping Stiles stand up since his legs seem
to have grown shaky. Soon enough, he sits in the water with his back pressed
against the end of the tub, his mate fitted comfortably between his legs.
"Hopefully the hot water will help."
"You're the best mate ever and I love you so damn much..." Stiles mutters as he
leans back into Derek's body, flopping his down on the alpha's broad shoulder.
He hears the man snort next to his ear. "I'm sorry if I worried you."
Derek doesn't respond verbally, settling instead for pressing a small kiss to
Stiles' cheek and wrapping his arms around the teen's torso as best he can in
the confines of the tub. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, humming his
acceptance when Stiles just shakes his head in response. "OK...I'll wait, but
not for long. I don't want you keeping whatever it is you experienced to
yourself so much that it brings you down again. I want to see you as happy as
possible all the time."
"Hmm, my Sourwolf giving me advice on not keeping things bottled up? Who'd have
thought we'd ever see this day?" Stiles says cheekily, the hot water doing
exactly what Derek had hoped it would.
His shoulders and neck are still slightly sore since they're not submerged, but
he figures he can deal with it, until Derek nips playfully on his earlobe and
makes him jump, that is. His elbow shoots sideways, out of his control, and
ends up bashing jarringly against the side of the tub. He hisses as pain shoots
up his arm. "Son of a bitch!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
He's grateful when Derek grabs a hold of his flailing limbs, preventing him
from injuring himself any further. When the throbbing of his elbow suddenly
seems to dissipate entirely, he peers down curiously and sees black veins
crawling up Derek's arm, telling him that the alpha is absorbing his pain. The
pros of being in a relationship with a werewolf, he muses, the pain relief
making him feel a little lightheaded. He can't relax back into the warm body
behind him, though, his bout of clumsiness making his shoulders tense up even
more.
Derek thankfully appears to realise what's wrong this time without having to
ask, and Stiles lets himself be nudged forward slightly until they're not sat
so close together. His eyes slip closed when the alpha begins rubbing and
massaging the muscles with surprisingly skilled hands. "And you were wondering
why I was admiring your hands this morning... They're magic, I swear."
His words end in a moan when Derek finds a particularly tight knot in his upper
back and begins coaxing it to loosen.
"I really have no idea what I'm doing, but thanks, I guess," Derek replies,
continuing to work and frowning when he keeps finding knot after knot in
Stiles' back. He wonders how the teen kept it hidden from him for so long and
makes a mental note to smack him upside the head for it when he's feeling
better. He ignores the fact that his cock has taken interest in the noises
coming from Stiles' mouth, knowing that the teen isn't really in a good place
for them to make love in that moment, neither mentally nor physically.
Stiles arches his back when Derek's hands travel lower, working out all of the
various kinks that have made themselves home there. "Well...if that
architecture thing doesn't work out, you should seriously consider becoming a
masseur," he suggests as he wiggles in place slightly, his ass having gone a
little numb from being sat still for so long. The movement causes him to
shuffle backward a little bit and his eyes snap open when he feels something
nudge against the small of his back. "I take it you're enjoying this, too,
then, unless the thing that's poking me isn't what I think it is?"
He chuckles when Derek just huffs exasperatedly, the sharp puff of breath
blowing against his wet neck and making him shiver as it turns cold.
"How do you expect me to react when you keep moaning like that?" Derek asks
defensively, glaring at the back of Stiles' head when the teen laughs at his
expense. He lets his mate's reaction go without comment, figuring that if
embarrassing himself cheers Stiles up, then he'll gladly do it.
Looking down at his hands, Stiles pouts to himself when he sees that his
fingers are beginning to prune. The water has also started to cool, telling him
that it's probably time to bring their little bath to an end. He reaches
forward and pulls the plug out, feeling Derek's hands come to a stop as he
watches the water flow down the drain, the alpha leaving them resting on his
shoulders. "Thanks for this," he says, turning to look back at the man and
offering him a small, grateful smile. He doesn't look for too long, though,
wanting to avoid the stirrings in his groin that seeing his mate all naked and
wet will no doubt bring forth. Instead, he gets up and steps out onto the tiled
floor, grabbing a fluffy, white towel from where it hangs on the rail that is
screwed to the wall about a foot away.
He begins drying his hair when he hears Derek follow him out of the bathtub,
seeing the man's arm reach around to grab his own towel out of the corner of
his eye. When he's all dry, he walks through to the bedroom and fishes out a
clean pair of boxer-briefs from the dresser, slipping them on quickly before
flopping down onto the bed, kicking the covers back so that he can slide snugly
beneath them.
Derek joins him shortly after he gets comfortable, the alpha bypassing the
dresser and just cuddling up to him completely naked.
The sheets end up pulled up to their waists.
With Derek lying on his back, Stiles shuffles up close to his side and rests
his head atop the alpha's strong chest, sighing in contentment when his mate
wraps his right arm around his back to keep him close. Now that he doesn't
really have anything else to focus on to keep his mind distracted, he finds
himself again thinking about everything he saw a couple of hours previous. He
can hear Derek's heart beat beneath his ear as he lays his right hand on one of
the man's pectorals and runs his fingers through his chest hair.
After a few seconds, Stiles finds the courage to open his mouth and finally
confide in his mate. "I saw Jeremy," he says quietly, wincing when he feels
Derek immediately tense up at his words.
Derek's breath hitches as he looks down at the top of Stiles' head, frowning
when the teen doesn't look back up at him so their eyes meet. He tries to calm
himself down again when he detects a large amount of nervousness souring
Stiles' scent, pressing his lips to his mate's hair and mumbling into the soft
strands. "You mean earlier, at the Nemeton?" he asks, keeping his voice hushed
as he stares at the opposite wall.
Stiles nods into Derek's chest, his hand coming to a stop in front of his face.
He notices that the alpha isn't wearing his triskelion necklace, which seems
strange since the man is hardly ever seen without it around his neck. He
guesses Derek must've taken it off for their bath. A small smile forms on his
lips when his mate's hand comes up to cover his, offering comfort and
reassurance. "Yeah..." he begins, his breath disturbing the chest hairs he has
trapped between his fingers. "It was the weirdest thing. One minute, I was
sitting with my eyes closed, just listening to Deaton talk, and the next... I
opened them and there was no one around. The candles were still there, but
everything else was dark. The next thing I knew, there were two other people
standing right next to me, and they both looked exactly like me.
"One of them did, anyway. The other one looked like I did back when I was
possessed by the Nogitsune. I looked so skinny and just...evil."
Derek's hand squeezes around Stiles', the alpha obviously knowing how difficult
it must have been to see himself like that again. He still has the occasional
nightmare about it all, though they're thankfully pretty rare. "Anyway, Allison
showed up next. She was crying and I tried to reach out and touch her to see
what was wrong, but I couldn't; my hand just went right through her. Then she
moved her hands away from her face and her eyes were completely white. She was
blind."
As he listens to Stiles' explanation, Derek can't help but think that what he's
hearing sounds like a living nightmare. He rubs his right hand up and down the
teen's back when he pauses, signalling that it's alright to keep going.
"Then you showed up. You were covered in this weird slime and you
looked...feral," Stiles continues, finding it difficult to shut himself up now
that he's begun spilling. He figures it's probably a good thing to get it all
out anyway. Being surrounded by Derek's incredibly comforting scent helps him
to keep going. "You tried to attack me, but I jumped out of the way, and when I
looked up after falling on my ass, I was alone again. That's when Jeremy
appeared. I didn't immediately realise it was him. At first I thought it was
Landon, but then I saw that his hair was different and he didn't have any
scars. Seriously, twins are confusing.
"That's when he gave me the warning from my mom. She said the power I have is
dangerous and that I have to be careful. I don't know what the hell that's
supposed to mean."
Derek's hand falters in its caressing when he hears that the version of himself
in Stiles' vision had tried to attack him. "You know I would never try to hurt
you, right?" he can't help but ask, needing to know that Stiles knows that. His
heart unclenches slightly in his chest when the teen nods his assent, relieved.
"As for the warning... I'm afraid I don't know what it means either. Hopefully
Deaton will have some answers when we see him on Saturday." He swallows tightly
in preparation for what he's about to say next, knowing that his words probably
won't be received very well. "Maybe it would be a good idea to take a break
from your training for a while, at least until we figure out what's going on."
As he was expecting, Stiles pushes himself up and peers down at him, a deep
frown on his face. "I wouldn't have suggested it before today, but you just
seemed so shaken up earlier. It worried me."
His disapproving expression morphing into one of fondness, Stiles pats Derek's
chest a couple of times before resting his chin on his hand so that he can see
the man's face. "I appreciate that, I really do, but I'm not just going to give
this all up so easily," he explains, willing his mate to understand. "Besides,
I don't think it'll happen like that again, and if it does, I'll be better
prepared for it this time. It was jarring, don't get me wrong, but I think the
reason it hit me so hard was because it was so unexpected."
"Alright..." Derek accepts grudgingly, rolling his eyes when Stiles grins up at
him.
He hates how easily his mate is able to bring him around to his way of
thinking. He figures that's just what he gets for tying himself to someone so
tenacious and adorable, the fact that he has no backbone anymore when it comes
to Stiles. "But I'm going to be coming to every session to make sure you don't
get hurt."
"Aren't you just the sweetest?" Stiles teases, moving forward and bringing
their lips together. He kisses Derek with all of the love he feels for the man,
his mouth opening on a sigh and their tongues sliding together sensually.
Derek's hands end up tangling in his hair, pulling on it lightly to angle his
head into a more accessible position. He holds himself up with his left arm,
resting it against the mattress and tangling his fingers in the sheets. With
his right, he strokes his hand down Derek's chest until he reaches a nipple,
circling his thumb around the nub until it's raised and taut. Derek whines into
his mouth at the stimulation, and he smiles into the kiss because that's just
the reaction he'd been looking for.
He frowns when the alpha pulls away, resting their foreheads together and
moving one of his hands to sit atop his own, stopping his teasing of the man's
nipple.
Derek keeps them both still as he tries to get a handle on his arousal. The
sudden bout of passion confuses him, as he thought Stiles was too sore and
tired, both physically and emotionally, to even think of doing anything vaguely
sexual. The fact that he can smell how turned on the teen is, though, makes him
second-guess himself. "Stiles, what are you doing?" he asks, resting his head
back on the pillow so that he can see his mate's eyes. The smirk he gets in
return just baffles him even further. "I figured you'd be too exhausted to do
anything."
Shrugging, Stiles lets his smirk turn into something more predatory and is
satisfied when Derek's face and neck flush red in response, his nostrils
flaring. "I was," he begins, freeing his right hand from Derek's hold and
continuing his exploration of the alpha's firm chest, "but that massage in the
bath earlier really helped, and I feel a lot better now that I've told you
about what was troubling me. So...I just want to show you my appreciation. You
gonna lie back and let me?" He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites
on it before swiping his tongue across the abused flesh, soothing the ache he
left there.
It's a trick he's perfected since he and Derek got together, one he pulls out
from time to time to get his way since he knows his mate is fascinated by his
mouth. He's pleased when Derek nods his head and relaxes back into the
mattress, shifting his arms so they rest at his sides to give him free reign.
Stiles wastes no time stripping out of his underwear, throwing the offending
garment off to the side to land on the floor. He kicks the sheets back so that
Derek is completely exposed before getting to his knees and straddling the
alpha's waist. Planting his hands on either side of the older man's head, he
bends down so their faces are inches apart. "Hi," he says cheekily, smiling
when he feels Derek's hands move to grip his hips. He leans forward and kisses
the tip of his mate's nose before nuzzling the underside of his jaw, smile back
in place when the man tilts his head back, baring his neck to his
ministrations.
The fact that Derek, a powerful alpha werewolf, will expose the most vulnerable
part of his body to him so readily always does funny things to his insides.
Biting and sucking his way across Derek's neck, Stiles enjoys the way the man's
stubble rasps across the skin of his face. He'll probably have some beard burn
in interesting places the next day, but he supposes it'll be worth it. The
constant rumbling building in his mate's chest vibrates against his own and he
bites down particularly forcefully when he gets to Derek's Adam's apple,
sucking on the bump as it jumps beneath his mouth. The small whine the action
gets out of the alpha is like music to his ears.
When Derek's cock slots into the crack of his ass, Stiles moves back against it
to tease the man a little bit before drawing up and away, slithering down his
body until he sits comfortably between the alpha's spread legs.
Pre-come has already begun forming at the slit and he wastes no time wrapping
his lips around the tip, his tongue sliding beneath the foreskin to collect
more of the tasty treat. Wrapping his right hand around the shaft to stabilise
it, his fingers tangling in the thick curls at the base, he runs his mouth
along the side, getting the warm, silky-smooth skin sloppy and wet. Derek's
hips raise off of the bed every time he pulls his mouth away, the alpha
obviously wanting to chase after him. He does it deliberately a couple of times
just to tease the man even further, but relents when he hears a particularly
plaintive whine slip out of Derek's mouth.
Derek's fingers wind themselves in Stiles' hair, his mate grounding himself as
he starts to bob his head up and down, taking more of the thick shaft into his
mouth every time.
Unlike all the other times he's sucked Derek off in the past, when the head
nudges against the back of his throat, he keeps going instead of pulling off,
swallowing around the intrusion and suppressing his gag reflex until he's able
to take in another couple of inches. He draws back for a second to get some
more oxygen in his lungs before diving right back onto the beautiful cock
throbbing in his hand. His eyes water and he almost chokes, but his fierce
determination to pleasure his mate keeps him going until he takes the man all
of the way, his nose buried in the dark curls of pubic hair at the base. He can
only hold himself there for a couple of seconds before he has to retreat to
breathe again, but he feels a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to fit
Derek's impressive length fully in his mouth.
His throat feels a little bit sore already, giving him new respect for all of
the women in the porn he used to watch back when he was a lonely, horny
teenager, but it doesn't stop him from taking the alpha in all the way again.
The first time Stiles sinks down all the way on his cock, Derek's eyes snap
open when he feels the tight heat of the teen's throat constrict around him. He
can't believe that his mate has actually managed to deep-throat him, since no
one has been able to in the past, but he guesses he shouldn't be surprised;
Stiles had been more than vocal in the past, saying that he would succeed even
if it killed him. The wet heat feels incredible around him and he has to focus
so he doesn't give into his desire to buck up into it, choking the teen.
Stiles pulls off of Derek's cock completely one last time, his throat now
protesting to the point where he supposes it's time to give it a rest.
Instead, he settles for using his right hand to work the inches he can't get in
his mouth. With his left, he fondles Derek's heavy balls, rolling them in his
palm and tugging on them lightly. The alpha seems to approve of this, if the
way the noises he's making increase in their volume is anything to go by.
Feeling adventurous, he lets one of his fingers slip further back until it
ghosts along the hair-dusted crack of the man's ass, curling it so that it
slips between the cheeks ever so slightly.
Derek parts his legs even wider at this, so Stiles keeps going, pressing
further until the pad of his index finger brushes along the tight furl of
muscle that is his mate's hole. He stares up at Derek's face as he works,
noting the way his wolf's eyes are clenched shut in pleasure and his mouth is
gaping as he sucks in huge lungfuls of air.
Wanting to get Derek to climax, Stiles takes his mouth off of the alpha's cock
for a second and sucks on his finger, running his tongue around the digit to
get it slick with saliva. Getting back in his previous position, he rubs around
Derek's asshole a couple of times to coax it into relaxing. When he feels a
slight give, he pushes forward and sinks in to the first knuckle, continuing to
work his mate's cock in his mouth the entire time. He's shocked at how searing
the heat of Derek's ass feels around his finger as he thrusts it back and forth
a couple of times, going steadily deeper. The alpha's hips move along with him,
alternating between pushing back on his finger and up into his mouth. They find
a rhythm soon enough, and he knows Derek is close to coming when the man's
fingers tighten in his hair, pulling just the right side of painful.
He'll have to add hair pulling to the list of new kinks he's discovered in the
past year.
When he curls his finger up and grazes across Derek's prostate, Stiles feels
the man's balls tighten, drawing up until they bump against his chin. His
mate's whole body seems to vibrate in pleasure as his cock pulses in his mouth,
a cry of his name escaping Derek's lips as his orgasm crests, shooting thick
ropes of come across his tongue.
Stiles works frantically, not wanting to waste a single drop. It just keeps
coming and he can't stop the odd bit slipping out around his lips to slide down
Derek's thick cock, running over his fingers before getting stuck in the hairs
at the base. Small tremors wrack the alpha's body as he rides out of the
aftershocks, his hips twitching and his ass clenching down tight on Stiles'
finger. He pulls off when Derek pushes weakly at his head, the man's cock
slipping out of his mouth to lie lengthways along the cut of his hipbone,
beginning to soften. He guesses that it grew too sensitive for such direct
stimulation.
Now that Derek has been taken care of, Stiles realises just how hard his own
cock is, the length rigid as it curves up toward his stomach.
He returns to his previous position and straddles Derek's waist, stripping
himself quickly as he stares down into the glazed eyes of his mate. It doesn't
take long for his own orgasm to wash over him, and he looks down and watches as
he shoots all over the alpha's torso. Derek's nostrils flare as he breathes in
the scent of his come, his eyes flashing red briefly before returning to their
natural hazel colour.
When he comes down from his high, he admires his handiwork, using a hand to rub
the white fluid into the tanned, hair-dusted skin of Derek's chest and stomach.
"There," he says when he's done, smiling knowingly down at the alpha, "now you
smell like me."
Derek very much approves of this new turn of events. He reaches up and pulls
Stiles down to lie beside him, immediately drawing him in and kissing him
passionately. The taste of himself is still there on the teen's tongue and he
sucks on the slick muscle demandingly, savouring every trace he can get.
"You're amazing, you know that?" he asks when the kiss comes to an end. He cups
a hand around Stiles' face and rubs across his cheekbone with his thumb,
smiling at the way his compliment causes a faint blush to appear on the smooth
skin there.
"Yeah, well...right back at'cha," Stiles replies, reaching down and dragging
the sheets back up to cover their sweaty bodies. He tucks his face into Derek's
neck and sighs contentedly when he feels the alpha begin to play with the hairs
at his nape. He doesn't give into sleep immediately, wanting to bask as long as
he can in the afterglow.
In the end, Derek's hand in his hair proves to be too soothing, and he's
helpless to resist the pull of unconsciousness.
***** Pack *****
- Friday, August 10th, 2012 -
Nothing particularly interesting happens for the rest of the week. Stiles puts
all of his worries in a box at the back of his mind and leaves them there,
untouched, as he just focuses on the now. He's surprised to find that he and
Charlie share quite a lot of classes together and they more often than not end
up sat next to each other. The girl is still a little skittish, but she seems
to be growing more and more comfortable as the days pass. Friday finds them
split off from the rest of the pack during the lunch period, a rare occurrence
for Stiles because he's sat with them consistently ever since they all grew
closer after the Nogitsune. He and Charlie sit outside of the cafeteria
instead, perched atop a wall with their lunch trays positioned side by side
between their bodies.
No one else is around, so they both feel comfortable talking about more
personal things without having to lower their voices. At first, Charlie was
hesitant to say even the littlest thing about her family, but after Stiles had
begun talking about his, the girl started to open up somewhat.
"You're kidding!" Charlie laughs, holding a hand over her mouth as she stares
at Stiles in disbelief. The boy has been telling her about his and Scott's many
adventures from when they were kids, the tales getting more and more recent.
She can't comprehend the amount of mischief the pair used to get into. "You did
not sneak out in the middle of the night to look for a dead body!"
She has mixed emotions about this particular story. On the one hand, she's
horrified that Stiles would go looking for something like that, while on the
other, she's in awe of his brazenness.
"Swear to God," Stiles promises, taking a bite of his apple. He's just finished
detailing how he'd convinced Scott to go out looking for a body after he
overheard his dad talking on the phone with one of his deputies one night. He
left out the part where it ended with him being thrust into the supernatural
world, but he guesses it's a decent tale nevertheless from Charlie's reaction.
He sees the girl shaking her head at him out of the corner of his eye and
snorts. "Yeah, it wasn't one of my better ideas, I'll give you that. My dad
caught us before we actually found anything. Well, he caught me, anyway. Scott
managed to get away without being found out, the lucky bastard. I thought I was
going to get grounded for the rest of my life when I saw how pissed off my dad
looked, but he never actually gave me a punishment, strangely."
He frowns as he says this, having not realised it at the time. "Maybe he was in
a really good mood the next day or something..."
Charlie nods her head in agreement, just going along with Stiles' theory seeing
as the boy obviously knows his dad better than she does, having not met the man
yet. "I take it from everything you've been telling me that you get into
trouble a lot?" she guesses, tucking her flaming hair back behind her ears when
the wind blows it out of place. "I could never even imagine doing some of the
stuff you have!"
"I suppose you could say that," Stiles admits, a faint blush appearing on his
cheeks as he tries to take another bite of his apple absentmindedly. When his
teeth bite down on nothing, he looks down in confusion and finds that he's
finished it.
Shrugging, he tosses the core into the bin that sits a couple of feet away. "I
promise not to drag you down into my wicked ways, though, so don't worry about
that. I haven't gotten up to any mischief of that calibre in quite a while.
Lydia keeps me in line. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to get on
the wrong side of that girl... She'll kill you with one look." Even though he's
talking about the banshee's short fuse when it comes to putting up with any
sort of silliness, his voice is still very fond, something that his companion
seems to pick up on if the way her expression becomes speculative is anything
to go by.
Biting her lip in contemplation, Charlie picks at her nails disinterestedly
after she sees that she's already devoured all of her food. "Is there something
going on between the two of you?" she asks, hastening to explain when Stiles'
eyes widen in shock. "I only ask because I got the distinct impression on
Monday that she and Jackson were together."
"God no!" Stiles chuckles, finishing the last of his water before tossing it to
join his apple core in the bin. "I used to like her that way, don't get me
wrong.
"She's a very attractive girl, so how could I not? I used to trail after her
like a puppy. It's actually kind of embarrassing looking back on it now... She
wouldn't give me the time of day, though. You see, back then she acted like an
airhead who was only interested in money and popularity; her and Jackson have
ruled this school for about as long as I can remember, really." He shakes his
head as he remembers how much he thought Lydia used to waste her potential,
having always seen beneath her façade to the real girl underneath. "It's only
in the past couple of years that she's stopped pretending and started openly
displaying what a smartass she is. We became good friends after I stopped
chasing after her and realised that I never had a chance.
"After that, my feelings became much more platonic. What I said before still
stands; she will destroy you if you give her reason to, but if you stay on her
good side, she'll be one of the loyalest people you could ever ask to have in
your life."
"You all seem like an odd group," Charlie muses, shuddering after another
particularly strong gust of wind whips around them. "I don't see how most of
you could've possibly become friends, you're all so different from each other.
Like, there's a bunch of you from each of the stereotypical high school
cliques; it's strange seeing everyone interact with each other like such good
friends."
Stiles nods his head as he thinks over Charlie's words. He's thought them
himself several times in the past before he learned to tune out the whispering
of outside parties. The pack must look very odd to any regular person. Since
he's unable to tell the girl of the real reasons they all began to grow closer
to one another, he settles for what he hopes is a convincing lie. It's close
enough to the truth that he wonders if he should even call it a lie to begin
with. "We didn't used to be; it was only last year that we all started hanging
out together. Before that, we basically all just did our own things. It was
only when Derek came back to town that things started to change." He sees
Charlie frown at the mention of the alpha and carries on with his explanation
before she can ask. "He used to live here, but he moved away years ago when his
house burned down. A couple of years ago, he just reappeared one day. He
must've been lonely, because the next thing I know, he's got Isaac, Erica and
Boyd under his proverbial wing.
"None of those three really had any friends, so I think they were in the same
boat as him. Then me and Scott joined their little group, followed by Jackson
and Lydia, and then Cora, his younger sister, came back to town as well. The
rest, as they say, is history."
"I'm still not too clear on who Derek is..." Charlie says slowly, having barely
managed to keep up with everything Stiles just told her.
The boy's words came out in such a rush that it was difficult for her to
understand them. The tender expression that formed on Stiles' face when he
talked of the man gives her some indication as to his identity, though. "Have I
met him? I don't think I have." Having heard his name mentioned a couple of
times by the others during the week, she was under the impression before now
that Derek was just another one of their friends that she hasn't been
introduced to yet. From Stiles' explanation, however, she guesses now that he's
older than they are, at least by a year, since he's not in school.
Shaking his head, Stiles twists around and brings his legs up, sitting with
them crossed on the wall instead. "No, you haven't actually met him yet, but I
know you saw him when he picked me up after school on Monday," he says, resting
his elbows on his knees. This reminds him that he'd wanted to ask the girl why
she'd worn such a strange expression on her face after seeing him and his mate
hugging.
"I waved to you, but you just got this weird look on your face and drove off.
What was that all about?"
Charlie looks down at the ground, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah...sorry about that. It
just caught me off-guard is all," she mutters, clearing her throat awkwardly.
"Like I said before, I thought there was something going on between you and
Lydia, so seeing you getting all up close and personal with a man that looks
quite a bit older than you was a little...unexpected. How old is he anyway?"
"He turned twenty-five at the start of the year," Stiles replies, already
knowing where the conversation is heading. He still gets lots of strange and
judgemental looks from the general public whenever he and Derek venture out
around the town. It got to the point where he doesn't actually leave the house
too much anymore; the only times he does nowadays are for school or to go
grocery shopping to keep on top of all the food the betas eat. Making sure a
pack of werewolves stay well-fed and happy is quite the demanding and expensive
task. He remembers that his eyes had almost popped out of their sockets in
shock like they do in cartoons when he'd seen how much everything came to on
his first shopping run. Luckily, it's not as if Derek is hurting for money.
"Why?"
Her eyes widening as she does a quick calculation in her head, Charlie is quick
to explain her interest when she detects the hint of defensiveness in Stiles'
tone.
"Wow, eight years? That's quite the age difference you've got going on there,"
she begins, keeping her own tone as affable as she can. "I don't have a problem
with it, though, if that's what you're thinking; as long as you're happy, then
that's all that matters, I suppose. Plus, from what I could see of him from
across the lot, he looked pretty damn hot. Go you!" She punches the other teen
lightly on his shoulder, pleased when Stiles' face relaxes and a small smile
forms on his lips.
"He did seem quite...intimidating, though. You know, the flashy car, the
leather jacket, the scowl and the beard. Maybe I'm just judging a book by its
cover, but I'd probably shit my pants if I ever ran into a stranger that looks
like him on the street."
Stiles laughs, reminiscing about the first few months he knew Derek, when the
then-beta would just growl and shove him into walls to get him to follow his
orders. They really have come a long way. "Yeah, I get that, but he's really
not so bad once you get to know him. He's actually a big, cuddly teddy bear,"
he assures, fiddling with the long sleeve of his red flannel shirt as a shiver
runs through him. He'll have to work out a way to punish Derek later for not
letting him borrow the man's leather jacket that morning. Perhaps he'll
withhold dessert. Yeah, that'll work, he thinks, smirking to himself. When he
sees Charlie staring at him in disbelief, he snaps himself out of his plotting.
"Seriously, just trust me. He can be a bit standoffish when you first meet him,
but he's a really good person beneath all of that."
"I'll take your word for it," Charlie says, smiling at the image Stiles' words
have put in her head. "So, you're bisexual, then? 'Cause if you are, we should
totally form a club or something. There isn't enough representation for us out
there yet and a lot of people still look down on the concept and think it's not
possible, that we're just greedy or looking for attention or something. It's so
stupid..."
"Mmm, I wouldn't say I'm bisexual, no," Stiles says after a few seconds of
contemplation. He remembers the times he used to constantly ask Danny whether
the other boy found him attractive or not, but he's never really thought about
why he did that. He thinks now that he was just keeping his options open, but
no, Derek is still the only guy toward whom he feels any sort of sexual
attraction. "I still like girls, and other guys don't really do anything for
me. It's just Derek. So I guess you could say I'm...Derek-sexual."
He smiles when Charlie laughs at his explanation, thinking that the girl has
blossomed quite a bit since her first day. She never would have laughed like
that before, and it's still only when it's just the two of them that she seems
to let her inhibitions go.
"Fair enough, fair enough..." Charlie accepts, her laughter tapering off. "So
your dad's OK with you dating someone in their mid-twenties? I think my mom
would have a heart attack if I told her I was involved with someone that much
older than me! Your dad must be pretty cool."
Nodding his agreement, Stiles feels a pang of loss in his chest at the mention
of his late father. "Yeah, he was..." he says quietly, looking away briefly to
stare off at the trees in the distance. When he turns back, he sees the
concerned and confused expression on Charlie's face and decides to explain. "He
died back in January. I don't actually know what he thought of me and Derek,
since we got together right before that and I hadn't told him yet. I think he'd
have come around to the idea when he saw how happy Derek makes me, and I do
know that he liked him well enough as a person before that. Melissa, Scott's
mom, is my legal guardian now and she's fine with it.
"I swear, that woman is like a second mother to me, and she was even nice
enough to let me move in with Derek after a while when she saw that he was the
one who could help me with my grief the most."
Charlie's eyes widen considerably at the revelation that Stiles is living with
his twenty-five-year-old boyfriend. "Wow... You two must really be serious,"
she says with wonder, hoping that she'll be able to find somebody she feels
that sure about. "I'm sorry about your dad... I know what it's like to lose a
parent and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. My dad went missing when I was nine.
No one knows what happened to him, whether he was killed or if he just ran off
or something. My mom thinks something bad happened to him, since none of his
things went missing as well. I'm probably lucky to still have her, since she
basically fell apart for years afterward. It was only recently that she got her
shit together and started acting like a parent again. She moved us here for a
fresh start."
This reminds Stiles of the months after his mother's death when his dad drowned
himself in alcohol, leaving him to take care of the house and himself. It was
only when he was about to buckle under the pressure that the man saw what his
carelessness was doing.
His dad got back on his feet with Melissa's help. "I can relate. So...how've
you been finding Beacon Hills so far? It been treating you well?" he asks,
trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't want either of them to go back to class
when the bell rings with sour moods, especially not since their next one is
Chemistry with Ms. Adler. They both need to be on their game so they don't piss
her off.
"It's been better than I expected, actually," Charlie replies thoughtfully,
stacking their lunch trays on top of one other. "I still haven't seen most of
it, but I actually think I like it better than my hometown so far."
"That's good. Maybe I can give you a tour one weekend, show you all the best
places," Stiles offers, knowing that he'll be disappointing his pack by
spending one of their days off away from them, but he supposes they'll just
have to get over it. They can take care of themselves for one day, but he
decides he'll be generous and cook them some food beforehand so they can heat
it up if they get hungry. Being the alpha's mate really is like looking after a
bunch of small children sometimes. The bell rings just as he finishes his
planning, telling him that it's time to begin heading over to their next class.
He carries both trays and dumps them with the others that are stacked just
inside the cafeteria doors before leading the way.
Charlie thinks over Stiles' offer carefully as they walk, checking inside of
her bag to make sure she remembered to bring the homework that is due that day.
"I think that would be a good idea, actually. Thank you," she accepts as they
take their stools. "I'll have to check with my mom before we do it, though.
Since it's just the two of us now, she's gotten a bit overprotective and she'll
no doubt have a problem if I just tell her I'm going out for the day with a boy
she's never met.
"Maybe you could meet her first, so she sees there's nothing going on between
us. That should put her mind at ease a little."
"Yeah, I guess I can do that," Stiles says, the thought just striking him now
that Derek will probably want to accompany the two of them as well. He guesses
that could be a good thing, as it would give Charlie a chance to see that the
man isn't nearly as intimidating as he looks. It'll also serve as proof that he
has no romantic interest in her daughter. Their conversation cuts off before he
can say anything else when Ms. Adler walks into the room, bringing everybody's
cheerful discussions to a halt with a single stern look.
                                     * * *
When Stiles gets home, he finds the house is empty. He's confused for a second
before remembering that Derek had a second interview for the job as an
architect earlier in the day. It was supposed to end a couple of hours ago, so
the alpha should arrive at any minute. To pass the time until he does, Stiles
shuffles into the kitchen and cooks himself a quick grilled cheese sandwich. He
moans as he bites into it, savouring it since it's not often he allows himself
to consume something that full of cheese. After he takes his last bite and
licks the crumbs off of his fingers, he looks around and realises how low
they're running on groceries. Sighing, he heads upstairs to his bedroom to
change his clothes, wanting to slip into something more comfortable if he's
going to go shopping. He's just shrugged into his red hoodie when he hears the
front door open, announcing Derek's return. Checking himself over in the mirror
to make sure he looks alright, he races downstairs and greets the alpha where
he stands just inside the foyer. "Hey, you!" he says happily, jumping on his
mate's back and wrapping his arms and legs tightly around his muscled body in
an accurate impression of a koala hugging a tree.
Derek doesn't so much as stumble when Stiles jumps on his back, having heard
the teen's approach and prepared himself before the impact. He leans his
portfolio next to the door and turns his head to the side, rolling his eyes
when Stiles presses a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "You seem to be in a good
mood," he observes, walking through to the living room and standing with his
back to the sofa. He's pleased when Stiles takes the hint and untangles his
limbs, dropping backward onto the cushions. He takes a seat next to the teen.
"Of course I am! It's the weekend," Stiles replies, smirking when Derek wipes
away the wetness still on his cheek. "It was a good day, all in all. I actually
managed to get through Chem without my teacher yelling at me, which was a
first. We got put into pairs for some project that's supposed to be coming up
soon. I got put with Charlie. I told you about her, right?" He waits until
Derek nods his assent before continuing. "Anyway, we've been given a list of
different things we can do and we have to decide which one will get us the best
grade. It should be reasonably fun, I guess, as fun as school work can be." He
slumps sideways so that he's pressed up against Derek's side, resting his head
on the alpha's shoulder as he's pulled closer by a strong arm. "How about you?
How'd your interview go?"
Leaning his head atop Stiles', Derek ignores the rumbling of his stomach as he
stares at the blank television screen on the wall opposite. "I think it went
really well, actually. They seemed impressed by my work and even though I won't
actually be working around them much, all of the people there seemed to like
me. I should hear back from them in a couple of days about whether I actually
have the job or not. I hope I get it."
Stiles hears Derek's body announce his hunger again and pats the man's firm
stomach a couple of times before getting up. "I'm happy to hear it. I know
you'll do great!" he assures, going back into the kitchen to cook Derek
something to eat as well. "We need to go shopping today, just so you know!" He
speaks louder than normal to make sure the alpha hears him, even though the man
is just in the other room with enhanced hearing. Old habits are hard to break,
it seems. He rifles through the fridge for something he thinks Derek will
enjoy, startling when he turns around to find that the man is stood right
behind him. "Don't do that! You know I hate when you follow me silently. You
could at least announce your presence before you give me a heart attack..."
Slapping his mate on the arm, he holds up the leftover lasagna he'd chosen and
shakes his head fondly when he just gets a short nod in return. "It'd probably
be a good idea to go after you've eaten, especially seeing as the pack is going
to be over here for the whole day tomorrow... They're bound to eat a lot, the
animals, so we need to prepare for that."
When the microwave beeps, Derek takes the plate out and sits at the island to
eat. He watches Stiles shuffle about the room, phone in hand as he takes stock
of what they need to get. It takes the teen quite a while, so long in fact that
by the time he's done eating, the boy still isn't finished. He leaves Stiles to
it while he goes upstairs to get out of the suit he'd worn for his interview.
He sighs in relief as he loosens the tie around his neck, wasting no time in
practically ripping the dress shirt from his body and shoving his trousers down
around his ankles. He steps out of them and kicks them aside, toward the pile
of other dirty clothes that has formed in one of the corners. He doesn't know
why they even bothered to buy a laundry hamper, since it never actually gets
used. Shrugging to himself, he quickly dresses in a well-worn sweater and a
simple pair of jeans before rejoining Stiles downstairs.
When he glances inside the kitchen, Derek is pleased to see that the teen
appears to be finishing up compiling his list, so he retrieves his wallet and
waits dutifully by the front door for his mate to be ready. Soon enough, Stiles
is practically skipping outside and right over to his Jeep. Derek gets inside
his own car and follows the teen when he pulls away. They soon learned after
their first trip grocery shopping that both cars are necessary to carry
everything back home, since they always end up buying so much. They're lucky
enough to find two parking spaces next to each other relatively close to the
entrance, and he grumbles halfheartedly when Stiles links their arms together
and leads him inside. He's still not that comfortable with public displays of
affection, but he puts up with them to keep his mate happy.
Each new section of the store they visit ends with them practically clearing
out the shelves. Stiles grabs several litres of milk and packets of grated
cheese in the dairy section. He requests an absurd amount of meat from the man
behind the butcher's counter, already planning everything he can make with it
all as he packs it inside of the cart. He got enough to last them a couple of
weeks. At least, he hopes it'll last that long. He throws things in nearly
constantly and checks the items off on his phone as he goes. It keeps going
like that until the cart is filled to the brim and piling over, several boxes
of each kind of Pop Tart on top of it all, since each member of the pack seems
to prefer a different flavour. It's a bit precarious, but as long as Derek
walks reasonably slowly, it doesn't prove to be a problem. He ends up carrying
the bags of crisps since they won't fit.
As usual, when they get to the checkout line, the person behind the till looks
at them both in horror because of the sheer amount they'll have to scan. While
Stiles unloads everything onto the belt, Derek stands on the other end and bags
it all after it's been scanned, heaving the bags into the cart when each one is
filled. It's a system they've perfected. Derek doesn't even bother checking the
total when everything's done, instead choosing to just insert his card in the
reader and pay for it without worrying about it.
"Well...that was an adventure," Stiles comments as he leads the way out of the
store, the cart Derek still pushes rattling along behind him. "You'd think all
of the staff would've stopped looking so surprised by now, given how often
we're in there." He opens the back of his Jeep and begins loading the shopping
inside as Derek passes him each bag. He's able to make most of it fit in there
and in the passenger seat, with the remainder getting shoved in the back seat
of the Camaro. While the alpha takes the cart back to the bay with all of the
others, he climbs in behind the wheel and takes out his phone, checking to see
whether he's missed any messages. The corner of his mouth twitches when he sees
that he has a new text from Charlie, the girl telling him that she's checked
with her mother and that his plan to show her around town is still on. He
responds and suggests they do it on the Saturday of the following week, his
head shooting up in shock when someone knocks on his window.
Derek smirks as he turns away from Stiles' window, pleased with himself at
having made the teen jump. He guesses his mate will get the message when he
climbs into his own car and turns the keys in the ignition, pulling out of his
space a few seconds later. Looking in his rearview mirror, he keeps going when
he sees that Stiles is indeed following, driving back to their house.
It doesn't take long to pack everything away, though Stiles leaves out several
things in preparation for cooking them dinner. He glances back over his
shoulder and sees that Derek is just standing leaning against the door frame,
watching him work. "You want to help or are you just gonna stand there like a
creeper?" he asks cheekily, sticking his tongue out at the man when he gets an
eye roll in response. Nevertheless, he's grateful when Derek acquiesces,
stepping forward to stand next to him at the counter. "Right...you start
slicing up these tomatoes while I get the pasta cooking, 'K?" He slides a
couple of the red fruits over to sit in front of the alpha before taking a
cutting board and a knife out of one of the cupboards and handing them over as
well. He starts preparing a couple of chicken breasts himself, letting them
marinade in a homemade sauce he had leftover in the fridge as he rips open a
packet of spaghetti and fills a saucepan with as much as he guesses the two of
them will eat.
"What are we making?" Derek asks as he works, his fingers getting covered in
tomato juice as he slices into them and cuts them up into small pieces at
Stiles' instruction.
"Chicken alfredo with a twist," Stiles replies, turning on the stove to get the
water to boil. After that's done, he takes a frying pan and tips the chicken
inside before beginning to cook that as well, putting on the top so that it
cooks faster. When he sees that Derek has finished with the tomatoes, he takes
over from the alpha and slides them into the saucepan with the chicken so they
get hot and soften up. "Alright...now that's all going, we just have to wait."
He sets a timer on his phone before dragging Derek through to the living room,
pushing the man down on the sofa with a hand on his shoulder before stalking
over to their rather substantial DVD collection and browsing through all of the
titles for something that looks interesting. He decides to be merciful and pick
something that he knows his mate will enjoy as well.
Twenty minutes into the first Mission: Impossible, Stiles pauses it to go and
check on the food. He smiles to himself when he finds that it's all ready and
begins dishing it all up onto two plates. Derek's ends up piled with more food
than his because of the alpha's larger appetite, and his mouth waters as he
breathes in how delicious it smells. "Dinner is served!" he announces as he
carries the plates through and sets them on the coffee table.
Derek doesn't quite manage to suppress his moan as he takes his first bite, the
flavours that burst across his tongue like nothing he's ever tasted before. He
tries to play it cool when Stiles raises an eyebrow in his direction, but he
feels the tips of his ears turn pink anyway, giving him away. "Shut up..." he
mutters, going back to his meal.
"I take it from that rather pornographic noise that you like it?" Stiles asks
as he looks sideways at Derek, an impish smirk remaining on his face between
mouthfuls. He can't resist teasing the man, thinking to himself that his mate
looks rather adorable in his red sweater and old jeans with a pretty blush on
his bearded face. To add to it all, he looks down and notices for the first
time that the sweater Derek wears has thumbholes in the long sleeves. "Ugh,
could you get any cuter?" He shakes his head to rid himself of the dirty
thoughts that have started appearing there, not wanting to interrupt their
downtime by jumping the man. They'll have plenty of time for that later, he
tells himself, refocusing on the movie still playing on the television screen.
"I swear you get better at cooking every day," Derek compliments, tucking into
his meal again with gusto. He chooses to ignore Stiles' comment. It's not long
before he's scraping his fork across his plate to gather up the last of the
sauce, looking down at it in disappointment when he realises he's finished it
all. He looks longingly over at Stiles when he sees that the teen still has
half of his food left, pouting when his mate looks back at him questioningly.
Stiles must have noticed his prolonged silence. His solemn expression quickly
turns into one of gratitude when Stiles rolls his eyes and swaps their plates,
dutifully letting him finish off his food.
Stiles leans back into the cushions and crosses his arms. "You owe me, Mr.," he
mutters, shaking his head fondly as he watches the last of his food be consumed
in no time at all. He manages to hold onto his unimpressed and stern expression
for all of three seconds when Derek looks up at him with wide, innocent-looking
eyes, the man playing along seamlessly. In the end, he can't stop himself from
laughing at the image Derek makes, a lone string of spaghetti hanging
ridiculously out of the corner of his mouth. "Idiot..." He takes the alpha's
plate when that, too, has been practically licked clean and stacks it atop the
second on the coffee table before settling in to watch the rest of the movie.
When he leans into Derek's side, he can't resist patting the man's stomach a
couple of times with more force than necessary before shoving his hand beneath
the hem of his sweater and rubbing across the hair-dusted abs he finds there.
"You all full now?"
"Umm...yes?" Derek responds uncertainly. He looks down into Stiles' playful
eyes, exasperated by the teen's antics. He swiftly removes his mate's hand from
under his sweater and links their fingers together so he can keep himself safe
from anymore of Stiles' wandering. "Now shut up and watch the movie."
"Yes, sir!" Stiles replies, really wishing he had a hand free so that he could
mock salute. Deciding that it's not worth the effort, he snuggles up close to
Derek and tucks his face into the man's neck. The position just lets him see
the television screen, but even if it didn't he wouldn't care. He's seen the
movie enough times that he can conjure up images of what happens in his mind if
he just listens to the audio, so in the end he closes his eyes and just basks
in the wonderful feeling of being alone with the man he loves. His contentment
ramps up a couple of notches when Derek's hand finds its way into his hair, his
fingers winding through the strands and his nails scratching soothingly across
his scalp.
When the movie comes to an end, the credits beginning to roll, Derek looks down
at Stiles and snorts when he sees that the teen appears to be falling asleep on
him. "You look like you're ready for bed already," he comments, ceasing running
his hand through Stiles' hair. He gets to his feet without warning, ignoring
the squawk of protest that comes from his mate at the sudden movement.
Stiles goes sprawling across the sofa when Derek's warmth disappears in the
blink of an eye, almost hitting his head on the armrest. He's able to save
himself the headache, though, miraculously. "Ugh, why are you so mean?" he
whines, drawing out the last word unnecessarily. He glares up at his mate for
disturbing him. "And as for getting sleepy, I can't help it; you're just so
comfortable and you smell super nice and it's been a long day..." He brings out
his best puppy-dog eyes as he holds out one of his hands, trying to make
himself look as pathetic as possible so that Derek will take pity on him.
"Carry me? My legs are asleep." At the alpha's unimpressed look, he tries
again. "Did I not just cook you a delicious meal? Don't I deserve some
compensation for my hard, tireless efforts?"
"You're absolutely ridiculous..." Derek sighs, rubbing at his temples as if
Stiles' request physically pains him. In the end, though, he's powerless to
resist when the teen continues to stare up at him forlornly. He pulls Stiles up
off of the sofa and promptly sweeps him up with an arm under his knees,
snorting fondly when the teen snuggles as close as possible and begins petting
him like a dog, muttering, "Who's a good boy?" in his ear. He growls playfully
in response and begins making his way upstairs and into their bedroom. He kicks
the door open gently and deposits his mate on their bed before retreating back
downstairs to make sure everything is locked up and the lights are all switched
off. When he gets back into their bedroom, he finds that Stiles has managed to
get himself out of his clothes and from the faint scent of mint in the air, he
guesses the teen has already been to the bathroom. Taking his own turn, he
frowns at himself in the mirror when he notices that his beard is getting a bit
long. He makes a mental note to trim it in the morning before relieving himself
and joining Stiles in bed.
As with every night, as soon as Derek pulls the sheets up to their waists and
turns off his bedside lamp, Stiles snuggles up his side and clings to him
tightly with gangly limbs. The teen is out like a light almost immediately,
snoring softly into his chest. The sound lulls him to sleep as well, and his
last thought before succumbing is that he hopes he'll have the energy to deal
with the entire pack all day when he wakes back up in the morning.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, August 11th, 2012 -
Stiles and Derek get a rather rude awakening a few hours later. Stiles has been
drifting in and out of sleep for about half an hour when Isaac bursts in
through the door and pounces on the bed, causing him to yell loudly in surprise
and flail his way to sitting up. He doesn't immediately register what it was
that woke him fully, but when his eyes land on Isaac perched at the foot of the
bed, the curly-haired beta practically vibrating with excitement, he groans and
flops back down next to Derek. A quick glance to the side reveals the alpha to
be awake, too, his hazel eyes glaring grumpily back at him. Turning back to
Isaac, he rubs at his eyes and is incredibly grateful that he didn't decide to
sleep completely naked the night before. As comfortable as he's become with
every member of the pack, he doesn't want any of them to see him in his
birthday suit. He thinks he might just die of mortification if that were to
ever happen.
"Why aren't you two up yet? It's already eight in the morning!" Isaac chirps
from where he sits, his head tilting to the side in confusion when both Stiles
and Derek just level him with equally annoyed looks. He's impatient to get the
day started already, deeply looking forward to spending some quality time with
his pack like they do most weekends. It's always the best part of his week,
especially since Stiles usually lets him help cook dinner if he keeps everyone
else from breaking anything.
"I'm just gonna ignore that you think eight o'clock is an acceptable time to
get up on a Saturday..." Stiles mutters, reluctantly pushing himself up again
and leaning on his elbow. "You should really knock before you come in here,
Isaac. One of these days you're going to walk in on something you don't want to
see and it's gonna be no one's fault but yours." A satisfied smirk appears on
his face when his words cause the other teen to leap up from the bed, an
expression of horror on his face as he runs out of the room again and slams the
door shut behind himself with a shout of, "Gross!" thrown over his shoulder.
"That takes care of him..." Stiles mutters. He sees movement out of the corner
of his eye and, before Derek can get up, he throws himself sideways so that he
lies on top of the alpha, keeping him in bed. "Nope, you're not allowed to get
up yet! You still owe me my usual sleepy morning cuddles!"
Derek grunts when he finds himself pressed under Stiles' weight, sighing as he
stares impassively down into the teen's mischievous eyes. "Needy..." he
grumbles before relaxing back into the pillows, spreading his legs a little to
allow his mate to fit more comfortably between them. He tucks his right hand
behind his head and places his left on Stiles' shoulder. "Do you know what
they're going to subject us to today?"
"Not really, no," Stiles replies, crossing his arms atop Derek's chest and
resting his chin on them. "I know the guys were keen to get a game of something
going in the back yard and I guess we'll be having our usual study session in
the evening... Other than that, I have no idea what they're gonna get up to, so
have fun wrangling them all while I hide in the kitchen." He chuckles when
Derek narrows his eyes at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that! You're the one
who thought it would be a good idea to turn a bunch of crazy teenagers into
hyperactive werewolves. If you're lucky, I might be persuaded to bribe them
into behaving themselves with promises of baked goods, but you'll have to make
it worth my while."
"And just how would I go about doing that, hmm?" Derek asks with one eyebrow
raised, a knowing smirk on his lips. He snorts when Stiles just waggles his own
eyebrows at him suggestively in response. He's distracted from continuing their
discussion any further when Jackson knocks on the door, the beta's voice
echoing through the wood a second later.
"You two had better hurry the fuck up and put Isaac out of his misery before I
kill him myself!"
Stiles sighs and buries his face in his arms. "Not if I kill you first,
Jackson..." he says to himself, his voice muffled from where his mouth is
pressed against his skin. While he'd still much rather stay in bed in the
comfort of Derek's arms for at least a little while longer, he nevertheless
levers himself up and swings his legs out from beneath the sheets, yawning and
stretching his arms above his head before reluctantly getting to his feet.
Padding through to the bathroom, he makes quick use of the facilities and gets
ready for what promises to be another very long day. As soon as he's dressed in
that day's chosen outfit, he pecks Derek on the lips when they pass each other
before jogging down the stairs and following the pack's voices through to the
living room. He finds the majority of them already gathered there. Only Scott,
Allison and Kira are missing, which isn't unusual. The three are often the last
ones to arrive anywhere. Everybody's heads turn to him as he enters the room,
and he returns the happy smile Isaac sends him from the sofa next to Danny.
"Alright! What's first on the agenda today, puppies?"
"Food!" Isaac chirps, getting up and almost dancing around Stiles' feet when
the human teen nods and begins heading in the direction of the kitchen. He
takes a seat around the island as Stiles gets to work, seemingly already
knowing what every member of the pack would prefer to eat as he bustles about
from cupboard to cupboard, pulling out bowls and various utensils as he goes.
"None of us have eaten yet, just so you know."
"A big breakfast it is..." Stiles grouses halfheartedly, feeling in his element
as he starts making everything he'll need. A ridiculous amount of bacon is
cooked first, quickly being joined by eggs, sausages and baked beans, all for
the boys. He sticks to something more simple for the girls, knowing that none
of them will appreciate being given something with that many calories in it
that early in the morning, especially not Lydia. He sticks a couple of slices
of bread in the toaster for the redhead, figuring that she can choose what she
wants on top of it herself to avoid wasting anything should she refuse what he
picked for her. When he's almost finished preparing everything, he hears the
front door open distantly and guesses that the last three pack members have
finally deigned to grace them with their presence. He ropes Isaac into helping
him carry all of the plates through to the dining room, telling him in which
place to set each one down.
Derek's, of course, goes at the head of the table, with Stiles' own on the
alpha's right side. Next to him is Lydia, followed by Jackson, Erica, Boyd,
Allison, Scott, Kira, Cora and Danny, leaving Isaac to take up the other seat
next to Derek. When everything is ready, Stiles calls through to the living
room and braces himself as he immediately hears thundering footsteps
approaching. Like he thought, Scott, Allison and Kira pull up the rear, and his
eyes widen when he sees that the other boy is carrying some sort of net with
him, attached to two long, white poles. "What the hell is that?" he asks,
taking his seat next to Derek.
"We're going to play volleyball later, so...I brought the net," Scott explains,
his matter-of-fact tone implying that he thinks the answer should've been
obvious. He leans the poles against the wall just inside the door before
looking around the table, finding that only one seat remains empty and guessing
that must be his.
Breakfast is a surprisingly quiet affair, most of the pack ending up being too
preoccupied stuffing their faces to make much conversation. Stiles stops them
all when they make to leave the table, pointing at their plates with a stern
expression on his face. He doesn't let up until they all bow their heads and
clear their places, the sounds of excess food being scraped into the bin coming
from the kitchen a few seconds later after they disappear around the doorframe.
Soon enough, it's just him, Derek and Lydia left in the dining room, the three
of them just finishing up since they'd eaten at a more sedate and reasonable
pace. After he puts his and Derek's plates in the dishwasher with the others,
Stiles looks out of the window and is dismayed to find that the pack is already
out there setting up the first game. Before they can get started, he storms out
of the back door. "You'd better not be thinking of playing anything before your
food has a chance to settle," he yells, standing on the back patio with his
hands on his hips. When his warning is ignored, he huffs and turns to head back
inside. "Fine, but if any of you throw up, you're gonna be cleaning it up
yourselves!"
When he closes the back door, Stiles is about to make a start on the dishes he
has soaking in the sink when he notices Lydia smirking at him, the girl leaning
against the jamb of the door that leads into the foyer. "What?" he asks
confusedly, knowing that nothing good can come out of the redhead having that
look on her face.
"Oh, nothing..." Lydia singsongs before turning and heading through to the
living room.
Shrugging and deciding to just wait until Lydia reveals whatever it is she's
plotting, Stiles continues with his task and leaves the dishes to dry in the
rack next to the sink before making a start on the cupcakes he promised Derek
he'd bake earlier. He contemplates which kind to make, struggling to come to a
conclusion until he spots a jar on Nutella sitting unopened in the pantry.
Decision made, he begins to prep the other ingredients when Isaac flies through
the room, the back door slamming against the wall from the force with which it
was opened. Before he can process what he just saw, the beta comes back into
the room dragging Derek behind him. "What's going on?" he asks, setting the
flour down on the counter after taking it out of the cupboard where it's
stored.
"I'm being forced to join in, apparently," Derek says tiredly, giving up his
futile efforts to resist and just letting himself be shepherded outside by
Isaac, mumbling to himself about incorrigible wolves the entire time.
Shaking his head, Stiles watches out of the window as the pack splits up into
two teams and begins another match. As much as it looked like he didn't want to
participate earlier, Derek seems to get really into it after a while, ripping
his overshirt off over his head so that he's just in a tank top before
proceeding to absolutely dominate the other team. Pleased that his mate is
having fun, Stiles goes back to his baking and, before he knows it, he finds
himself taking the cupcakes out of the oven again when a skewer comes out
clean. He leaves them on a wire rack to cool and has just finished preparing
the frosting when the pack comes back inside, having finished their game. Erica
and Allison look to have come out of it the best, the two girls still looking
reasonably put together. The boys, however, look terrible by comparison.
They're covered in mud and have sweat dripping from their foreheads.
Stiles shoos the betas off upstairs to shower and change. It's times like these
he's glad he had the forethought to plan ahead and suggest that each member of
the pack keep some spare clothes in each of their rooms. It makes the chore of
doing laundry take a little bit longer, but he figures that's just one of the
rare downsides to being the alpha's mate. Speaking of Derek, the man is
suspiciously clean of any dirt, probably because he was the best player out
there and no one could take him down. The only sign that the alpha was actually
involved in the activity is the sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin.
Derek is about to follow Stiles' instructions as well and freshen up himself,
but when he makes to leave the room, wiping the sweat from his brow with the
Henley he took off earlier, a hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.
"Uh-uh, Sourwolf. No shower for you," Stiles commands, pulling Derek back
inside the kitchen and shoving him down on one of the stools around the island.
"You're gonna stay down here and help me with these." He takes the wire racks
laden with cupcakes from the counter and puts them down next to the alpha
instead before beginning to scoop the frosting evenly into a couple of piping
bags. He sees that Derek looks apprehensive when he hands one of the filled
bags to the man, a frown on his face as he looks down at his sweat-soaked
clothes.
"But...I'm all sweaty," Derek points out as if it wasn't already glaringly
obvious. Even so, he follows Stiles' example when the teen begins frosting his
first cupcake expertly, moving his slender hands around in circles with a light
grip. His own come out looking substantially messier than Stiles', but luckily,
his mate doesn't seem to mind since he still nods approvingly at his sloppy
handiwork.
"Doesn't matter to me. I know you know that I find sweaty to be a good look on
you, so don't even try," Stiles comments, leaning sideways and licking a stripe
up the damp skin of Derek's arm to prove his point. "See? Delicious! Plus, if
it grosses the betas out, then I think it makes some nice revenge for you
making me stink to all of them yesterday, don't you?" He smiles and fist pumps
in victory when Derek huffs indignantly before dutifully resuming frosting the
last few cupcakes in front of himself.
When everything is done, Stiles puts the racks on an empty shelf in the fridge
so that everything sets properly before the pack gets their grubby mitts on
them and devours them in what will no doubt be record time. The bowl in which
he'd mixed the frosting catches his eye as he makes his way back to his stool,
and he carries it with him and swipes his finger through the remaining mixture
still clinging to the sides before holding it up. "You want to lick the bowl?"
he asks innocently. His whole body freezes and his breath hitches when, before
can get his lips around his frosting-coated digit, Derek's mouth gets there
first and sucks the sweet treat from his skin.
Derek runs the taste of chocolate around in his mouth and licks his lips
appreciatively. He's not usually one for Nutella, but he thinks Stiles has used
just enough to give the frosting a hint of it without it being overwhelming.
"I'd rather lick it off you," he replies, his voice dripping with lust. He
smirks at the faint flush that appears on the skin of Stiles' face and neck at
his words. Before the teen can muster up a response, he sticks his own finger
in the bowl and holds it up in front of his mate's face.
Getting the idea, Stiles leans forward and opens his mouth until Derek's finger
slips past his lips, closing them around the thick digit and drawing back
slowly, using his tongue to swirl around it teasingly. He keeps eye contact the
whole time, and from the way the alpha's eyes flash red, he knows he's
succeeding at working the man up. Before he knows it, they've both closed the
distance between them, their lips crashing together and their tongues battling
for dominance. He of course let's Derek take the lead after putting up a
perfunctory fight, moaning quietly as they share the taste of chocolate between
themselves. He leaves his stool and clambers up into Derek's lap, another moan
slipping into the alpha's mouth when he feels his mate's hardness through their
trousers. Before things can move any further than that, however, he almost
slips off of Derek's lap in surprise when someone screeches in disgust from the
other side of the room. He's only saved from tumbling to the floor by the
alpha's quick reflexes. Tearing his lips away from his mate's, he whips his
head around and meets Isaac's traumatised gaze. The beta has his hand clamped
over his mouth and stands still in the doorway, frozen in horror.
"Ugh, it's like seeing my mom and dad make out... Eww, eww, eww!" Isaac yells
before making a hasty retreat back the way he came.
After staring after the beta for a few seconds, Stiles rests his forehead on
Derek's sweaty shoulder as he tries to suppress his laughter, his body shaking.
Once he calms down again, he finally allows himself to slip off of Derek's lap
and takes the bowl of frosting over to the sink to soak. What he and the alpha
had just done gives him an idea, and he lets it blossom in his mind before
tucking it away to put into practice at a later time when they're alone.
The rest of the day passes quite calmly. The wolves seem to have gotten most of
their energy out in the morning during the volleyball games and are content to
just laze around the house as the hours tick by. As Stiles guessed earlier, as
soon as he deems the cupcakes ready to eat, they disappear in the blink of an
eye, the betas not even giving him a chance to set the trays down before they
assault him. He's left standing in the kitchen waiting for his mind to catch up
and, when it does, he looks down to find two lone cupcakes are left, one each
for himself and Derek. He's glad the pack at least had the sense to leave
something for their alpha for once. It's happened a lot in the past where
whatever baked good he's prepared is consumed completely before Derek can even
get a look in. While the alpha always acts like he doesn't mind, Stiles'
intuition tells him every time that his mate still feels a small twinge of
disappointment at missing out, though he'll mask it before anyone else can see.
The trick doesn't work on him, though, since he's grown quite adept at seeing
behind Derek's walls, helped along greatly by their mating bond.
Stiles catches Derek trying to sneak in a shower several times throughout the
day and each time, he stops the alpha in his tracks with a reproving glare.
Eventually, his mate seems to give up, which lets him cease his vigilance. They
leave the rest of the pack downstairs after it looks like they've gotten
settled and spend several short hours up in the library on the third floor.
Situating himself firmly in Derek's lap, Stiles spends that duration browsing
through several of Deaton's old books, making the odd noise of interest when he
comes across something he'd like to try out in the future. The occasional noise
of disgust also slips out of his mouth whenever he finds a spell he thinks is
evil and repugnant. He remembers Deaton telling him on their first training
session that it'll be necessary to familiarise himself with the darker sides of
magic so that he can better defend himself should he ever come across them.
Even so, he skips past all of the unsavoury spells without a second glance,
leaving them to wade through at a later date.
Derek spends the time in the library finishing up the second book in the Hunger
Games series. The timing works out perfectly since, as soon as he reads the
last word on the last page, Stiles shuts the large tome he has open on his lap
with a sigh and slips off onto the floor, where he sprawls out with his eyes
closed. "You OK?" he asks the teen, nudging at his shoulder with his bare foot.
"Yup, just a little tired is all," Stiles replies, his eyelids feeling heavy as
he blinks them open. The lazy smile he gives Derek becomes resigned when he
realises that he still has to cook dinner for Derek and eleven teenagers.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he glances at the screen and sighs again
when he sees that it's almost time for him to make a start. With Derek's help,
he gets up off of the floor and lets himself be lead down the stairs, flicking
off the light switch before he leaves the room. When they get down to the
ground floor and pass by the living room, he sees that the pack have pulled out
their school books and have begun powering through their homework. He shakes
his head when he notices that Scott keeps badgering Lydia for help when he
finds something he doesn't understand because he didn't pay close enough
attention in class.
"If you want, we can just say 'fuck it' and order pizza or something instead?"
Derek suggests as Stiles takes out a bunch of pots and pans from the cupboard
under the counter. It doesn't escape him that the muttering coming from the
other room suddenly cuts off at his words, the betas obviously listening
intently for his mate's answer.
Stiles contemplates the idea for a couple of seconds before coming to the
conclusion that he deserves to take a break for once. Shoving everything back
inside the cupboard, he nods his assent to Derek before shutting the door and
following the alpha through to the living room. It doesn't take too long for
everyone to decide what they want, and the betas of course all request their
own large pizzas, the majority wanting them all topped with absurd amounts of
cheese and meat. The girls all decide to split a couple of vegetarian pizzas,
and Stiles and Derek get a half-and-half to share. The call takes a while to
make since there are so many things to list off to the employee on the other
end of the line, Scott and Jackson barking out sides that they want as well.
All studying comes to a stop and all of the betas' heads shoot up and look in
the direction of the door like meerkats when the doorbell rings, signalling
that the food has arrived. Both Stiles and Derek go to answer it, knowing that
it will most likely take all four of their hands to carry it back through. The
delivery boy looks like he's about to collapse under the weight of it all
before he passes everything over, clutching at his side like he's been running
and has a stitch. Derek counts out the bills and gives the sweating teen the
rather sizeable total before closing the door again and following Stiles into
the living room. As with the cupcakes, the pack is on him like the starving
wolves they apparently are as soon as he's in sight, freeing his arms of all of
the food before divvying it up between themselves. He retakes his seat on the
sofa and watches as Stiles walks over to the fireplace and uses his powers to
light the wood inside, casting a warm and homey glow over the entirety of the
room.
"I swear you're like Mario with his fireballs whenever you do that," Scott
comments with his mouth full of garlic bread. He swallows it all and gets an
amused expression on his face when a thought strikes him. "Maybe Derek should
dress up like Princess Peach sometime. Imagine him trying to fit into that pink
dress!" He practically tips over sideways in his mirth, cackling at the image
he's created in his own head.
Stiles ignores Scott's laughter as he climbs over everybody's limbs on his way
back to the sofa. When he takes his seat next to Derek, pressed up against his
mate's side with the alpha squished against the armrest, he looks up at the
man's face and sees the stony expression there. Derek obviously doesn't find
the joke funny in the slightest. "Scott! Unless you want me to burn your
eyebrows off, I suggest you stop laughing right now," he commands, letting his
alpha-mate authority bleed into his voice. He's pleased when the beta shuts his
mouth instantly, looking up at him in surprise before flicking his guilty eyes
over to Derek's face.
Satisfied, Stiles takes the only pizza box not already being ravaged and opens
it across his and Derek's laps, pressing his lips against the alpha's cheek to
snap him out of his sour mood. It works, and they settle in to watch whatever
crappy sitcom Lydia has playing on the television screen as they eat.
***** Revelations *****
In keeping with that day's impeccable timing, as soon as Derek finishes the
last slice of pizza in their box, his phone chirps and tells him that it's time
for him and Stiles to get to the teen's next training session with Deaton. They
both get ready as fast as they can after Derek remembers the veterinarian
mentioning at the end of Stiles' last session that they'll be needed earlier
than usual this time. Within five minutes, they're bidding goodbye to the rest
of the pack and marching out of the door, the alpha leaving instructions for
the last person to lock everything up if they're not back before everyone goes
home.
As soon as Stiles and Derek have disappeared outside, the rumble of the
Camaro's engine fading away, Lydia picks up the television remote and switches
the screen off, ignoring all the noises of protest the rest of the pack makes.
"Right, now that they're gone, I think it's time we all have a little planning
session..." she begins, leaning back against Jackson's leg from her position on
the floor.
"What're you talking about, Lydia?" Scott asks, baffled. He continues stuffing
pizza in his mouth as soon as he finishes speaking, looking down at his box and
frowning when he sees that he's basically demolished the entirety of it, with
only one slice remaining. He looks at it sadly as he picks it up before
deciding to savour it, taking small bites to try and make it last. Of course,
he soon gets frustrated when he can't really taste anything and ends up
consuming it nearly in one bite just the others.
Lydia watches Scott with her nose scrunched up in disapproval. She thinks the
boy eats like an animal and doesn't know how Allison and Kira can stand to kiss
his mouth. "As I hope you all know by now, Stiles' birthday is coming up soon,
and I think we should do something special to celebrate it," she explains,
shaking her head to rid her mind of Scott's voracious eating habits. "It's his
eighteenth, so this needs to be big. I don't know if the rest of you have
noticed it, but I think he might be feeling a little underappreciated at the
moment, since no one really thanks him for all he does for us." She corrects
herself when Isaac glares in her direction, the beta huffing indignantly.
"Except Isaac and myself, of course. That's why we're his favourites." When she
notices that everyone else is looking at her in confusion, she sighs deeply
before opening her mouth again. "I'll take this morning as an example: Stiles
prepared breakfast for all of us, already knowing what everyone wanted without
having to ask because that's how much he pays attention and cares about us, and
no one even said one word of thanks when it was all gone. You just marched off
out to the back yard to play volleyball without a second thought."
Every other member of the pack casts their mind back over the past few months
since Stiles properly blossomed into his role as the alpha's mate and tries to
remember even one time when they've shown their gratitude for him. All of them
feel incredibly guilty when they find they can't come up with even one
instance.
Deciding that everybody has been sufficiently chastised, Lydia nods her head
knowingly and presses on. "So, to make up for all of that, and to hopefully
bring about a change as to how things work around here so you don't make him
feel bad again, I definitely think a surprise party is the way to go," she
finishes, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her index finger on her
elbow as she waits for a reaction. "We all need to get him something amazing,
and if you're hurting for money, I'm sure Derek will be more than willing to
help you out there if you explain to him why you need it. I've already got my
gift all planned out, and it's going to be absolutely perfect. I know he'll
love it, so good luck to the rest of you."
"I think that's a great idea!" Isaac finally chirps, a smile on his lips as he
flicks his eyes between the rest of the pack's faces, almost as if he's
silently daring them to contradict him. He knows he'll probably have to follow
Lydia's advice and ask his alpha for some money; he still hasn't gotten another
job since he stopped working at the cemetery after his dad was killed. His
smile widens when Danny pipes up as well and agrees readily, and he knows from
the look on the Hawaiian's face that the other boy has already begun hatching
some plans in his head. He shakes his own when he catches his boyfriend sharing
a knowing smirk with Lydia, giving him the impression that the two old friends
will most likely take care of all the preparations themselves. The most he'll
probably end up having to do will be to get his present and show up on time. He
can handle that, and he guesses it's best that the others are left out of the
planning as well to avoid anything too outlandish being thrown into the mix.
"What are you going to be getting Stiles, Lydia?" Allison asks eventually,
wanting to know so she can get some ideas for her own gift. Although they've
been sort-of friends for over a year and a half now, she still doesn't really
know the boy that well, a fact that she now regrets.
Lydia, instantly cottoning on to what Allison is trying to do, just shakes her
head. "Nope, I'm not telling you," she says haughtily, getting up from the
floor. "I'm afraid you'll have to figure out what to get him yourself. And
you," she points a threatening finger at Scott, the beta's eyes widening
innocently as he stares back at her, "had better not try and give her or anyone
else any ideas either. I think this will be a good test to see if you really
know Stiles as well as I know you'd all like to claim you do." With that, she
picks her glass up from the coffee table and marches off into the kitchen to
get a refill of her diet soda.
"Well, I'm fucked," Jackson mutters, slumping down in his armchair. He doesn't
really care that much about getting Stiles anything in the first place, but he
knows he'll give in eventually so Lydia doesn't get mad at him. Maybe I'll rope
Danny into helping me, he thinks, nodding to himself. He perks back up again
when Lydia reenters the room. "So...what are we thinking of doing?"
"First, I say we get Derek to take Stiles out somewhere for lunch or something
so that he's not in the house while we get everything ready," Danny speaks up
from his spot on the sofa next to Isaac. "I'll leave the planning of that to
Lydia, since anything anyone else does will probably fall short in her
estimation." He smirks in the girl's direction when she glares at him. "After
they get home, we do the whole presents-and-cake thing, with us taking care of
it all so Stiles doesn't have to lift a finger. And then, in the evening, I
think we should go out to Jungle or something and do some partying and get
absolutely wasted. We'll need to bring some wolfsbane, obviously, but I know
Stiles has some down in the training rooms, so that shouldn't be a problem..."
He cracks up laughing seemingly out of nowhere, confusing everyone else in the
room. When he finally calms himself down, wiping tears from his eyes, he gasps
out the image that had appeared in his head. "Can you imagine Stiles dragging
Derek out onto the dance floor? We should totally go to Jungle just so we can
see that. I might record it..."
Jackson grins at Danny's thought. "Hell, this whole thing might actually be
worth doing if that happens," he snorts, ignoring Lydia when the girl elbows
him in the shin.
"I'm guessing I'll need to sort out fake IDs for everybody?" Danny asks,
looking around the pack and making a note in his phone of everybody that nods
their assent. Jackson is the only other person who seems to already be sorted.
He's a little surprised that Erica doesn't have one, since she seems like the
type who'd really enjoy going out and partying every now and then, but he just
shrugs and doesn't comment on it.
"Well, I suppose that's that all settled then," Lydia dismisses, taking out her
own phone and browsing through the website for the local party supply store.
She doesn't usually go for the sort of decorations other people tend to get,
but she knows Stiles likes them, so she sucks it up and starts adding things to
her cart, figuring that since it's his party, she should get things he'll
appreciate. She shakes her head when she comes across a couple of categories
specifically for things from the Marvel and DC comic universes, amazed and
slightly worried at the amount of things that are in them. When she finishes
getting everything she thinks they'll need, her eyes widen when she sees the
total. Nevertheless, she presses the button and reserves it all, theorising
that she can just send the bill to Derek afterward. If she's already picked it
all up and paid for it, he can't refuse her. Not that he'd dare try, she thinks
evilly, smirking to herself.
Isaac frowns when an idea hits him. "Do you think we should invite Charlie?" he
asks the room, knowing from the expressions that appear on all of his
packmates' faces that the thought never even crossed their minds. "She and
Stiles seem to be getting awfully buddy-buddy, so maybe he'd like it if she
were there. It's probably the nice thing to do anyway."
Lydia bites at her bottom lip as she thinks over Isaac's suggestion,
contemplating the pros and cons in depth. "Let's see how this week goes, and if
things remain friendly between the two of them, I'll ask her if she wants to
come, OK?" she decides, feeling the stirrings of jealousy in her gut at the
idea of Stiles replacing her as his best female friend with another redhead, a
fake one at that. She's still not sure whether she trusts the unfamiliar girl
yet, either, having not spent enough time getting to know her to come to a
conclusion. Knowing she's just being silly—what she said earlier about herself
and Isaac being Stiles' favourites within the pack still stands, after all,
second only to Derek—she shakes the thoughts from her mind. "If she does come,
you all know you'll have to keep a lid on all of the supernatural stuff, right?
Derek would probably kill us if a stranger found out about us all and exposed
us."
"Yeah...I'd rather not be experimented on by the government, thanks," Erica
mutters, cringing. "I'm sure we can manage not to let anything slip for one
night, can't we, guys?" She smiles when her question is met with a round of
cheers from all of the other betas.
Danny looks up from where he's still flicking through his phone before getting
to his feet and moving to stand next to one of the walls, choosing a blank
expanse of yellow for what he has planned. "Alright, if I'm gonna have enough
time to make everyone's IDs look passable, I'll need to start working on them
almost immediately, so...everybody up," he orders, gesturing for Allison to
stand in front of the wall facing him when the girl ends up being the first to
follow his instruction. One by one, he takes pictures of all of them, saving
them in their own folder so he doesn't forget or accidentally delete them. It
takes a little while for him to get an acceptable shot of Scott, since the
other boy keeps messing around and pulling faces. It's only when Lydia reminds
the beta of Stiles' earlier threat of burning off his eyebrows that Scott
behaves, much to Danny's relief. Boyd is the last one to go, and Danny sends
the tall teen a grateful smile when he gets a good photo of him in one attempt.
It certainly makes a nice change coming straight after Scott. "OK...just leave
everything to me. If Charlie does end up coming, I'll need to get a shot of her
as well so she can get into Jungle with us."
"What if she doesn't want to do something like that?" Isaac asks, instantly
tucking himself in close to Danny when the other beta retakes his seat next to
him on the sofa. "I mean, we don't really know anything about her; she might be
super straight-laced or something."
"Then she'll just have to leave the party early before we head out, won't she?"
Lydia answers, picking the television remote back up and switching the TV back
on. "Besides, I don't think that'll be an issue. From what Stiles has told me,
she hasn't really done anything 'bad' before, but she apparently looked pretty
curious when he told her about some of the mischief he and Scott used to get
into. I think she'll be easy to convince."
                                     * * *
Derek begins driving in the direction of the Nemeton before remembering that
this session will be taking place in the backroom of the clinic like they
usually do. Monday was a special case. Deaton's is the only other car in the
lot when they come to a stop outside of the building, which isn't unusual given
the late hour. They find the back entrance has been unlocked for their
impending arrival and they eagerly use it to escape from the chill of the
evening air. Deaton and Holly are both sat on two stools in the examination
room when they enter it, deep in a discussion. Derek only catches the back end
of it, but none of their hushed words make sense to him without context. It
doesn't matter anyway, because as soon as the pair notice his and Stiles'
presence, they stop speaking immediately. Neither of them look guilty, so he
assumes it's not pertinent to whatever it is his mate is about to do in the
next couple of hours.
"Ah, Derek, Stiles...I was wondering when you two would arrive," Deaton says as
he gets up from his stool and walks over to greet them. He leads them further
into the room and shuts the door with a click. Holly stays where she sits and
simply observes.
Stiles notes with interest that the examination table which usually sits in the
centre of the room has been pushed up against one of the walls, the screws
missing from its legs. Deaton leaves briefly and returns dragging two more
stools with him, which he positions opposite Holly's and his own before
indicating that he and Derek should make use of them. He wonders what the vet
will have him doing this time, feeling some nerves building in his chest since
their last session didn't end on that positive a note. He hasn't thought of
what he saw since he told Derek that night in bed and he doesn't particularly
want to dredge it all back up now and ruin the rest of what has turned out to
be a surprisingly good week.
Once everybody has gotten settled, Deaton clears his throat and begins. "Right,
so...I know Monday didn't turn out the way any of us were expecting, but I
don't want you to be discouraged, Stiles," he assures, pleased when he sees the
worried expression on the teen's face relax a little at his words. "Now, why
don't we start with you explaining what it was you saw?"
After glancing sideways at Derek to get some encouragement, Stiles opens his
mouth and begins going over every little detail he remembers from his 'vision'.
Both Deaton and Holly listen attentively, their expressions going from
understanding as he describes how freaked out he'd been to shocked when he
mentions Jeremy's apparent warning from his mother. "Then I felt hands gripping
my arms—which I guess was Derek trying to bring me back—and I 'woke up' or
whatever. So...is that enough to figure out where my powers lean or however it
was you phrased it earlier?" he asks them, recalling the vet mentioning the
many different types of magic there are in the world before it all happened.
"Yes, I think that should be sufficient, don't you, Holly?" Deaton asks,
looking sideways at his colleague and turning back to Stiles when the woman
nods her assent. "Now, I can't be one-hundred percent sure, so this could turn
out to be wrong entirely, but if I were to hazard I guess I'd say your powers
lean more toward foresight, or seeing the future, as it were." This potential
outcome excites him considerably, since he knows that if Stiles works at it, it
could lead to the pack always being one step ahead of whoever tries to decimate
them in the future. It would certainly mean less work for him, and he is
getting older and less able to deal with all the stress helping the pack causes
him now. That was one of the reasons he began grooming Stiles in the first
place, so the teen could take his place as the emissary, not that he was ever
really that for Derek anyway. He was only ever a temporary emissary for Talia
after Jeremy's death, and he hasn't held that title in any official capacity
since the Hale family was wiped out all those years ago.
"What?!" Stiles squawks, his eyes widening in surprise and his breath hitching
in fear. "So all that horrible shit I saw...that'll actually happen?!" He can't
help but wish he'd skipped this session and just remained at home, relaxing
with his pack and remaining blissfully ignorant. If only life was that easy, he
muses.
"Not necessarily. Seeing the future isn't an exact science; there are an
infinite number of possibilities and the smallest choice can change
everything," Deaton assures, watching impassively as Derek tries to calm down
the panicking teen. "For all we know right now, it's possible that nothing you
saw will actually happen, so it's not worth getting worked up about until we
know more."
Finally getting his breathing back to normal, Stiles pats Derek on the knee in
thanks before repeating Deaton's words in his head to get a better
understanding of them. "OK... Now what about Jeremy's message from my mom,
about my powers being 'inherited'? What the hell does that mean? How is that
possible? My mom didn't know anything about all of this!" he exclaims
passionately, his eyes narrowing when he sees the beginnings of guilt forming
on Deaton's face. The man looks off to the side to avoid his accusing gaze.
"What aren't you telling me? If it's something about my mom, I have the right
to know!" His voice rises with every word until he's practically shouting at
the man, and he's only stopped from getting to his feet because Derek places a
grounding hand on his shoulder to keep him on his stool. It's easier to channel
his emotions into anger instead of actually feeling the fear that still stirs
in his stomach. He only gives up when he feels his eyes begin to glow their
supernatural golden hue that accompanies his fire, not wanting to accidentally
end up burning down the whole building.
Deaton clears his throat awkwardly and gets up from his stool, walking over to
stand in front of the examination table. He leans his hands against it and
stays facing away from everyone else in the room as he begins to explain. "I
didn't know you mother," he says quietly, letting himself get lost in his
memories. "I was aware of when she and your father moved here, though. I had
just taken over this clinic and I used to be a sort of consultant for Jeremy,
should he ever come across something he couldn't handle or work out on his own.
It didn't happen often, but I remember on one such occasion when he called me
over to the Hale house, your mother was there as well, Stiles. I could sense
there was something strange about her and, after she left, I asked Talia about
what was going on. I still don't know everything, but Talia let me in on a
little before telling me to stay out of it, which I did."
Stiles grows impatient when Deaton suddenly stops talking. "Well? Are you going
to finish that thought or are you just gonna leave me hanging?" he demands,
trying to remain calm. He doesn't like the thought that the vet, a man he was
only just learning to trust, has been keeping something this important from him
all these months. He takes Derek's hand from his shoulder and links their
fingers together instead, resting them on his knee to stop it from bouncing in
place with nervous energy.
"Your mother did know about the supernatural, Stiles," Deaton reveals finally,
turning back around to face the rest of the room. He keeps his eyes locked with
the teen's wide, disbelieving pair. "Talia told me that, back in Poland,
something happened to your mother's family that scared her terribly. As a
consequence, she bound her own powers and fled to America for a fresh start,
where she met your father. I don't think he knew about any of this. Your mother
kept that part of herself locked away and hidden from everybody else. She went
to Talia because she knew that her family was made up of werewolves and that
there was a Nemeton here, dormant though it was at the time. She knew there was
always the possibility of something happening to wake it all up again and she
wanted to be kept in the know about any supernatural goings-on in town so she
could run again if need be. Talia wouldn't tell me any more than that, and I
haven't looked into any of it myself since then."
His mind racing, Stiles can't quite grasp what he's hearing. He can't believe
that he had absolutely no clue about this part of his mother's past and wonders
what else she could have possibly been hiding from him. Turning to Derek, he
finds the alpha staring back at him with an equal amount of shock on his face.
"Did you know about any of this?" he asks, his voice wavering slightly. He
thinks his mate could possibly have overheard something if he happened to be
around during one of his mother's visits.
Derek shakes his head slowly. "I didn't know any of the specifics, but now that
I think about it...I do have faint memories of your mom coming by the house
every once in a while," he explains quietly, squeezing back when Stiles' hand
tightens in his. "I just thought she and my mom were friends or something..."
He guesses it makes sense for his mate's powers to be inherited rather than
just springing up out of nowhere, especially if what Holly said earlier in the
week is to be believed. He has a rather limited knowledge about magic and
everything related to it, but even he knows power like that has to come from
somewhere. Since it started appearing before the whole debacle with the
surrogate sacrifices that awoke the Nemeton, Stiles' power being passed down
genetically is really the only option left.
"Now that's out of the way, I want to try this again," Deaton mutters,
beginning to pull out some pillar candles from one of the cabinets. He hands
them off to Holly in pairs until they're positioned in a circle in the centre
of the room before bending down to light them all with a box a matches.
Stiles immediately recognises what's going on and gets to his feet. "No way!"
he protests, backing away a couple of paces. "I'm not going back into
that...place. Once was bad enough!" He still would've been terrified to do it
otherwise, but after having to take in and process this new revelation about
his mother, he doesn't think his mind is in any state to be subjected to
horrors like those he already saw in his first vision. He's grateful when Derek
gets up as well and moves to stand next to him, both of them facing Deaton and
Holly like a united front.
"I know this is scary, Stiles," Deaton says calmly, holding out his palms in an
effort to soothe, "but this is a necessary evil if you still want to become
Derek's emissary. Since your powers lean more toward foresight, in order for
you to move onto any of the other types of magic, you need to master this one
first. The only way to do that is to keep trying until it doesn't faze you
anymore. Think of it this way: if you can get through this, the next time will
be easier and the time after that even more so, until it'll feel like a walk in
the park every time from then on. Plus, the information you could potentially
gain through your premonitions could turn out to be invaluable to you and the
pack's survival in the future. If any new enemy comes along and tries to tear
you all apart again, you'll know about it in advance and will be able to
prepare accordingly." When he still sees apprehension on Stiles' features, he
goes for a different tactic. "If you want, it would be possible for Derek to
accompany you until you feel more comfortable doing it on your own."
"I thought you said I needed to be around the Nemeton for this to work, so I
don't even know why we're talking about this," Stiles points out futilely,
still hoping he can talk his way out of revisiting whatever nightmare world he
saw the last time. "It won't work without it, surely."
Deaton nods indulgently, a small, amused smile on his lips. "I did say that,
yes," he says as he takes out the ingredients needed to make the paste he'll be
putting on Stiles' and Derek's faces. "But that was before we knew the extent
of your powers. From your reaction, I take it Derek didn't share what Holly
told him before you left our last session, about how the gift you have comes
only once in several generations. It should be possible for you to achieve
another vision without the Nemeton's help. In fact, now that I think about it,
the whole reason your first vision was so intense may have been because it
enhanced your magic too much. This time should feel more manageable."
Stiles feels like stomping his foot on the floor like a child having a tantrum
as Deaton's words strip away whatever other pointless arguments he could make.
He grudgingly accepts that what the man is saying makes sense and thinks back
to what he'd said when Derek suggested he give up his training, how much he'd
been against the idea. He tries to get back into that mindset, knowing that
it'll be easier to get through this if he at least fakes confidence. "Ugh,
fine!" he relents eventually, after he realises that everybody else in the room
has been staring at him for almost a full minute, just waiting for his answer.
He looks over at Derek. "You'll come with me, right?" He bites his lip
worriedly and, while he doesn't like displaying such vulnerability around the
vet, he guesses it's alright to lean on his mate a little, especially since
Deaton is the one who brought it up in the first place. He just hopes the alpha
is willing to help.
Nodding his response immediately, Derek gives Stiles a reassuring smile that
seems to pacify the teen's nerves a little bit. He's glad that a small gesture
like that can have such a positive effect. "Of course I will," he replies,
projecting an air of strength and protectiveness to help calm his mate even
more. His nose twitches when Deaton applies the paste to his face, the
substance immediately beginning to itch a little like Stiles had said it did.
Taking his place within the circle of candles, Stiles sits directly opposite
Derek. They both have their legs crossed with their knees touching, his hands
resting palms up between them with the alpha's own covering them, palms down.
As he listens to Deaton's words of guidance, he tries to drown out all of his
fear and keep his heart rate normal. Soon enough, he feels a small tug in his
chest, almost like it's pulling him backward. He lets it, and when he opens his
eyes after realising he can no longer hear the vet's voice, he finds that he
and Derek are now alone in the suddenly very dark backroom, the candles once
again being the only light source. He shakily gets to his feet, looking around
cautiously and expecting something horrific to jump out and attack him at any
moment without warning. He only stops his nervous inspection when he feels
Derek's hand slip around his own, squeezing.
Derek is baffled. He's only experienced something similar to this once in the
past, when he used his mother's claws to ask the woman for advice while the
whole Nogitsune fiasco was playing out. The silence unnerves him. Usually, if
he concentrates hard enough, he'd be able to detect the faint noises of life
from a considerable distance away, be it a passing car or the quiet murmur of a
television, but here...he can't hear anything but himself and Stiles. Growing
curious, he tugs on the teen's arm and leads him to the clinic's exit, pushing
open the door slowly and peering outside. The darkness is suffocating, his
preternatural eyesight not even picking up the Camaro which he knows is parked
just a few feet away. "Was it like this before?" he whispers, looking back as
Stiles releases his hand and disappears back the way they came. He's about to
ask what the teen is doing when he returns, holding a couple of candles in his
hands. "Good thinking..." He takes one of the pillars when Stiles offers it to
him before venturing out into the open. Sure enough, after taking a few paces
forward, the flickering light reflects off of the sleek, black paint of his
car.
"If you're asking whether it was this dark the last time I did this, then the
answer is yes," Stiles replies equally as quietly. It somehow doesn't seem like
a good idea to raise his voice any higher than that, the darkness feeling
oppressive and sinister. He links his hand with Derek's again and follows as
the alpha continues walking, looking for what, he doesn't know.
"This is so weird..." Derek breathes, extending his free arm and holding his
candle out in front of himself so he can see a little further into the
blackness. He disregards what he thought earlier; this is nothing like using
his mother's claws. He keeps them walking until he finds he cannot go any
further. It's like there's an invisible wall impeding his progress. Letting go
of Stiles' hand, he sends a guilty smile back at the teen when he hears him
whine in protest at the loss of contact before reaching out to touch the wall.
He feels like a mime as he begins walking along it, his mate's hurried
footsteps following along behind him. When they get to the tree line, he
pauses, trying to peer into the darkness to discern where they've ended up.
Time seems to pass strangely wherever they are and he's unable to even hazard a
guess as to how long they've been walking. Not even his nose is of any help to
him, since nothing but the two of them gives off any sort of scent he can
detect. He now fully understands why Stiles had been so panicked earlier in the
week. He's not faring much better and he hasn't even encountered anything yet.
"I feel like I'm in Insidious..." Stiles mutters after a while, trusting Derek
to lead the way. He almost expects at any moment to run into a bunch of doll-
like ghosts looking to possess his body so they can live again. As soon as the
thought comes, he shakes his head sharply and tries to focus on something else.
Even the word 'possession' does horrible things to his stomach these days,
especially after he'd seen himself looking like that again the first time he
attempted this.
Derek keeps them moving, figuring that they'll find something sooner or later.
He sticks to the invisible wall, following it to see if it leads anywhere.
Eventually, they come to a wide dirt road, which he recognises immediately. The
wall has led them right to their house and, sure enough, when he treks further
along the road, the building flickers into view, looking ominous in the
darkness. He can see his reflection in the windows as he passes them but
nothing beyond the glass is visible. He doesn't like seeing his and Stiles'
home in such a way when it's always felt like such a safe haven, so he moves on
and tries to open the front door, pushing it inward when he finds it unlocked.
As far as he can tell, this world is a perfect mirror of reality, right down to
the smallest details like the tiny nick in the wall just off to the left. It
was caused when Scott tripped over his own feet one day and dug into the paint
with his claws to save himself from cracking his head open on the hardwood
floor. Before he can venture any deeper into the house, Stiles grabs onto the
back of his tank top and stops him, the teen's breath hitching and instantly
putting him on alert.
"Something's here. I can feel it..." Stiles shudders, his voice high-pitched
and terrified. He can't tell if who or whatever it is has bad intentions or
not, but he errs on the side of caution anyway. He jumps several feet into the
air when another voice speaks from the direction of the living room, sounding
rough and amused.
"Back again, I see."
Before Derek can react, he detects movement in his periphery and turns his
head, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching when he sees the figure that
leans against the back of the sofa. It's like he's back there, nine months ago,
staring right at the Nogitsune as it wears Stiles' face. Only now, it's even
worse because it's not just one of his pack that's being controlled and turned
against him, it's his mate. He's unable to suppress the growl the builds in his
chest and he's about to mindlessly throw himself at the demon when another hand
stops him, wrapping around the arm with which he holds his candle. Recoiling,
his eyes widen when he sees a third Stiles is stood to his right, this one
looking exactly like the real one. "What the hell...?" he says disbelievingly,
stepping back and darting his eyes between all three of the teenagers. It's
incredibly disconcerting, but he sticks close to the one he knows is his actual
mate and watches dubiously as both of the copies move to stand side by side.
He'd forgotten how terrible Stiles looked while he was possessed, and seeing
them right next to each other only highlights how much the real Stiles has
improved since then.
"There's no need to be scared," the friendly-looking copy says, smiling gently.
Strangely, he seems to be a little frightened himself.
The emaciated Stiles rolls his eyes and scoffs before moving to stand in front
of the fireplace. "Let's get a little more light in here, shall we?" he asks
rhetorically, conjuring up some fire and tossing it casually onto the wood,
igniting it and casting a warm glow across the whole room. "There. That's
better." When he turns back around and sees that Derek and the real Stiles are
still standing frozen in the foyer, he tilts his head to the side and holds the
alpha's eyes. "See something you like?"
Snapping himself out of his daze, Derek bares his teeth and extinguishes his
candle since it's not really needed anymore. He puts the pillar on the table
that sits by the front door before daring to step into the living room with the
two copies. "You'd better not try anything," he warns, dragging the real Stiles
along behind himself since the teen still has a tight grasp on his tank top.
Reluctantly, he takes a seat on the sofa when he's instructed to do so, feeling
uneasy about taking orders from something that looks so evil. He's happy when
both of the doubles move to stand in front of him so that they're both in his
line of sight. Regardless of how friendly the lighter version looks to be, he
knows appearances to be deceiving and he'd rather not find out if they are in
this case.
"You don't have to worry about that, Derek," the lighter copy assures quietly,
taking a tentative seat on the coffee table next to the dark version. "I know
what this looks like, but I promise that neither of us want to hurt either of
you. We're both still Stiles. We're just...different iterations, if that makes
any sense."
"It doesn't, no," Stiles speaks up from next to Derek, feeling incredibly
weirded out at having a conversation with himself again.
"It's pretty simple, really," Dark-Stiles stays, remaining standing in front of
the fireplace, the flames behind him obscuring the planes of his face and
making him look like a silhouette. Only the glint in his eyes can be seen.
"We're both you, and we're both not you. I know you know about our powers by
now, so I'm not going to bore you with those details. Basically, this is
something you'll have to look forward to in the near future, being split in
half right down the middle. I get all of our anger, our vindictiveness and
basically every other negative emotion, as well as our confidence—and don't ask
me why it works that way; it just does—and that idiot over there gets all of
the positive ones, like the big heart and the patience and the ability to
actually give a shit about people." His tone becomes more and more disparaging
as he lists off his double's attributes. "He's a nervous wreck most of the
time, though, the poor fucker."
Derek frowns, watching the way the darker Stiles' little diatribe causes the
lighter version to hunch in on himself, his arms wrapping around his torso
defensively and his eyes filling with tears. He'd feel bad regardless, but now
he knows they're both actually his mate and not just monsters wearing his
face—if what he's just been told is to be believed, anyway—he can't help but
want to wrap the shaking body up in his arms and comfort him. He barely
resists.
"So you're not actually the Nogitsune?" Stiles asks the dark double
suspiciously, not liking the implications that he has the emotions it just
described within himself.
The darker half laughs heartily, his head tipping back and his hands clutching
his stomach with the intensity of it all. When he calms down again, he gets a
condescending expression on his face as he stares down at the real Stiles.
"Nope. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you're capable of every
little, dark emotion I just said. The Nogitsune just brought it out of you," he
explains, getting a far-away look in his eyes. "I know you feel them just like
I do. Have you ever told our dear Derek? No? Hmm, not very good to be keeping
secrets from your mate now, is it, Stiles?"
"What's he talking about?" Derek asks, glancing sideways at Stiles and pausing
when he sees the stricken expression on the teen's face.
"It's nothing," Stiles deflects, not wanting to talk about it and hoping that
everyone else lets the subject drop. He stares instead at the darkness on the
other side of the window, trying not to think about everything his darker
double has just said or about how much it strikes a chord with him. He's known
he has the potential to be bad ever since he was young, when all of the traumas
he experienced growing up dragged him down and shaped him into the person he is
today. All of those negative impulses were only amplified after the Nogitsune
got its ugly claws into him, and that's something he's kept hidden from every
single person in his life ever since. They've all been shoved inside another
box in the back of his mind with the other thoughts he doesn't want to ever
address, that he's a murderer, that he's not good enough for Derek, and that
the pack is eventually going to realise how much they don't need him, tossing
him aside and replacing him with someone more worthy of their time, someone
who'll take better care of them all. Rationally, he knows nothing of the sort
will ever happen; he knows the pack all love him, although maybe not in
Jackson's case. The occasional self-deprecating thought will just suddenly
appear in his head every so often and he'll have to wrangle it inside one of
the boxes before it can take root in his brain and grow into something
substantial.
Easily being able to read the real Stiles' face, the dark double rolls his eyes
and shakes his head. He opens the window before walking forward and sitting on
the coffee table next to his lighter half, getting enjoyment out of the way
everyone leans away from him now that he's closer. "Don't worry, Derek," he
says eventually, still keeping his eyes on Stiles. "I'm sure it'll come out
eventually." He pauses when a shudder suddenly runs through his body. "Anyway,
it looks like it's about time for you to leave. Have fun fucking like bunnies,
you two, and Stiles? I'll be seeing you again sooner than you think." With a
wink, both he and the lighter half disappear, seeming to disintegrate into dust
that flies out of the open window.
Stiles feels himself relax again now that both of his doubles are gone,
slumping back into the cushions. He throws an arm over his tired eyes before
peering out from underneath it, hiding again when he sees that Derek is still
staring at him with worry and confusion on his face. He sighs before beginning
to talk. "It was talking about everything I've been thinking since the end of
last year," he sighs, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees,
keeping his eyes trained on his feet so he doesn't have to look at Derek. "I
guess you could call it my 'dark side'. What you saw with that double, or dark
half or whatever the hell it said it was? All of the thoughts and feelings the
Nogitsune had? They're still there, always simmering beneath the surface. I
just keep them buried all the time. Focusing on the positive aspects of my life
helps, but yeah...I can't get rid of them. It's like the Nogitsune is still in
my head, talking to me and trying to rile me up and make me do things I don't
want to do or think things I don't want to think. I can ignore it most of the
time, but I can't stop it completely. It's a part of me now."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Derek asks, a little hurt at being kept in the
dark about something that clearly upsets his mate so much. "You didn't have to
keep all of that hidden, least of all from me. If you were worried about my
reaction, then you shouldn't have been. I've told you before how much I love
you and that I know what a good person you are. You don't think I have a dark
side as well? Because, let me tell you, I do. I really do; you've seen it
before. So why wouldn't I accept this?" When Stiles still refuses to meet his
eyes, he tilts the teen's head up and turns it in his direction with a finger
under his chin, not saying anything more until his silence causes amber eyes to
finally flick up to his own. "You don't have to hide this from me, Stiles. I'll
never judge you or stop loving you for anything."
A tear slips out of the corner of Stiles' eye as he stares into Derek's hazel
pair, seeing the sincerity in their depths and nodding his acceptance. "OK," he
croaks, wiping away the moisture on his face and shaking himself to get rid of
his sour emotions. "You think it's OK to go back now?"
"I'd say it's up to you," Derek theorises, following Stiles' lead when the teen
stands. He takes his mate's hand when it's held out to him and watches as
Stiles closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. He guesses that
the teen is trying to bring them back to reality without having to walk all the
way back to the clinic. The next time he blinks, he finds himself sat back on
the floor in the back room, Deaton and Holly immediately rushing over to them
when they realise they're awake again. "Well, that was interesting..." He gets
to his feet and presses his palm to his head when it spins dangerously. The
dizziness passes after a couple of seconds, much to his relief.
"What did you see?" Deaton asks, watching as Derek helps Stiles to his feet as
well, the teen leaning heavily on the alpha since his legs seem to wobble
precariously.
Stiles shakes his head, fighting the urge to throw up. He doesn't remember
returning to the real world being this much of a shock to his system the last
time. "Nothing new," he manages to get out eventually, sticking close to Derek
even though his balance has returned. The alpha's arm is incredibly comforting
where it rests around his waist, thick fingers dipping beneath the hem of his
shirt to rub soothingly across his bony hip. "It was just those two doubles of
me this time, so I guess your theory about the Nemeton's power pushing mine too
far was right."
"OK. I think that'll do for tonight, so why don't you head back home and get
some rest?" Deaton suggests, glancing up at the clock that hangs on the wall to
his left. He switches on the lights and begins putting out all of the candles
and packing them away to use again at a later date.
His brow scrunching up in confusion, Stiles is confused about why Deaton is
calling this session to an end so soon. He follows the man's eyes and feels his
own widen in shock when he sees the time. It's nearing two in the morning,
meaning that he and Derek were in their vision for more than five hours. "Holy
crap..." he breathes, disbelieving. I guess that's why my eyes feel so heavy,
he muses, wondering what Deaton and Holly could possibly have been doing during
all of that time to keep themselves occupied. He doesn't think he could've
coped with sitting around doing nothing for that long. Dismissing it as
unimportant, he bids a quick goodbye to the two of them and drags Derek out
through the back door, their bed calling him. He all but collapses in the
passenger seat and feels his eyes slipping closed as the rumbling of the
Camaro's engine lulls him.
When Derek pulls up outside of their house and gets out of the car, he hears
nothing but silence around him, telling him that the pack have all left. He
supposes he should've guessed that would be the case, since it's so late and
the only other vehicle there is Stiles' Jeep. Shrugging to himself, he's about
to head inside when he catches a faint trace of a strange scent. He's never
smelled anything like it, but before he can go and investigate where it comes
from, he loses it as quickly as he'd found it. Chalking it up as belonging to
some animal that took off running when it heard his approach, he turns back
around and finally notices that Stiles has yet to leave the car. He can see the
teen's head leaning against the window, and when he stands right next to the
door, he finds that his mate appears to have fallen asleep. He smiles to
himself and thinks that Stiles looks rather adorable, even with his lips parted
wide and a small trail of drool running out from the corner of his mouth.
Unlocking the house in advance—pleased that the pack actually listened to his
instructions for once and locked it after leaving in the first place—he
carefully opens the passenger-side door and catches Stiles before he falls
bodily out of the car.
It takes some careful manoeuvring, but he's eventually able to crouch down and
lift Stiles up on his back without waking the teen. He keeps Stiles' arms slung
over his shoulders and carries him with his hands positioned under his knees,
the teen's legs on either side of his waist. After aiming a couple of gentle
kicks at the car and front doors to close them, he carries his slumbering mate
up the stairs. It's starting to feel like a daily occurrence, not that he ever
minds having Stiles in his arms. When he lays the teen down on their bed and
makes to leave the room again, he's stopped by a sharp whine and hand hooking
into the waistband of his jeans.
Taking pity on his mate, Derek uncurls Stiles' fingers and tugs his shirt off
over his head before the teen can make another sound. Balling the fabric up, he
puts it in front of Stiles' face and smiles when the teen immediately buries
his nose in it and grabs onto it with both hands, a contented sigh escaping his
lips as the alpha's scent fills his nose. Derek can't help but shake his head
fondly as he goes back downstairs and into the kitchen, intent on getting
himself a late-night snack before joining his mate. In the end, he settles for
a couple of leftover slices of pizza from the fridge that he's surprised that
pack didn't polish off. They don't usually leave anything behind with their
insatiable appetites, not that he's usually any better. He stands leaning
against the island as he thinks over everything he'd experienced that evening.
A twinge of disappointment stirs in his gut as he realises that he didn't get
to see Jeremy in Stiles' vision. He doesn't even remember going into the whole
thing with that hope, but he guesses he must have subconsciously been longing
to see his beloved uncle again after so many years. He wonders how the older
man is doing wherever he ended up, whether he's happy there and whether Landon
is with him. He dismisses that last thought as soon as he thinks it, seriously
doubting that they ended up in the same place.
Derek takes his last bite of cold pizza before dumping the crust in the bin and
switching off the light again. The house is quiet as he checks it all over to
make sure the pack didn't leave anything in too much of a mess like they
normally seem to. The coffee table in the living room is piled high with empty
pizza boxes, and he's a little shocked that Lydia would allow the place to be
left in that state. Maybe she was one of the first to leave.
Deciding that he'll clean it up in the morning, Derek ascends the stairs and
eyes the shower critically when he gets into the bathroom. He glances back out
and sees that Stiles is still sleeping, so he takes the opportunity to finally
rid himself of the dried sweat he'd accumulated playing volleyball earlier that
morning. He'd been incredibly reluctant to join in when Isaac had starting
dragging him outside, but he admits to himself that he'd ended up having a
really good time once he let himself get into it. It felt good to show the
other team how it's done, his skills unmatched by any of his betas thanks to
his natural athletic ability and his alpha status. The fact that he caught
Stiles smiling at him through the kitchen window was also a plus. He'd gotten a
particular kick out of seeing Jackson become increasingly ticked off. The
competitive teen had even gone so far as to suggest they switch the teams up
after the first game, foisting all of the girls off on him while he took all of
the other guys. It didn't make a difference, and he hopes it went a long way in
teaching Jackson not to think in such a sexist way. He thinks Jackson should
know better given that the beta is in a relationship with Lydia, who's probably
the most terrifying girl he's ever met. In the future, if Isaac ever tries to
rope him into participating in any more pack activities like that one, he
decides he'll be more cooperative.
After waiting for the spray to heat up, Derek steps beneath it and tilts his
head forward, letting the water cascade down his back in a soothing sluice. He
simply stands there for several minutes, thinking back over everything he had
seen in Stiles' vision and contemplating what all of it could possibly mean.
The words the two doubles of his mate had spoken run through his mind again,
and he hopes that what they said wasn't actually true. It was bad enough
experiencing it there without it actually being a reality; he really doesn't
want to know what it would be like to have it actually happen in real life.
After deciding to just put it all out of his mind for now, he does a quick job
of cleaning himself up before exiting the stall and towelling himself off.
The steam from the shower has obscured the mirror completely, and Derek swipes
his hand over it a couple of times to clear it again. Staring at his
reflection, he tries to neaten his hair up as much as possible so it doesn't
end up drying in some ridiculous style that he won't be able to fix the next
morning. He needs it cut, really, but he can never seem to the find the
motivation to go and get it sorted.
Looking down at his body, Derek thinks about how he still doesn't get Stiles'
lust when it comes to his body hair and the scent of his sweat. He'd been
particularly baffled when the teen had spent a long time with his face buried
in his armpits the first time it all came to light, focusing more of his
attention there than on any other part of his body. He doesn't really
understand it; that part of the human body has never done anything for him
personally, but he figures he doesn't mind letting Stiles have what he wants.
He admits that it did feel surprisingly good to have his mate licking and
sucking at the hair there as well as across the rest of his body and he knows
there'll no doubt be kinks he has that Stiles will indulge him in further down
the line. He's only ever really had plain, vanilla sex before mating himself to
the teen, and while the intimacy he feels when he makes love to his wonderful
mate without any frills is unparallelled by anything he's experienced before,
he feels his heart beat faster with excitement in his chest at all of the
possibilities opening before him now that he can be more adventurous.
The conversation he'd had back on Monday morning reenters his mind as he
thinks, from his bashful admittance of needing to mark Stiles as his in every
way to the teen's easy acceptance of it all. He wonders if Stiles has thought
any more about it since then before shaking his head and smiling wryly,
reprimanding himself lightly for not immediately realising that of course his
mate would have. Knowing Stiles, the teen has probably even gone online and
researched every single kink there is in the world and compiled a list of all
the ones he wants to try out.
Speaking of Stiles, after he switches off the bathroom light and steps back
through into their bedroom, he finds the teen still lying where he'd left him,
clutching his Henley tightly to his face. He feels refreshed and invigorated
from his shower, and he stares down at his crotch when his cock starts to react
and fill. He's tempted to wave a finger at it and tell it to knock it off, and
he rolls his eyes as he catches himself, sighing because Stiles is obviously
rubbing off on him, and not in the fun way. He does sympathise with his cock,
though, since it hasn't seen any action all week because Stiles has been so
busy and tired from settling into the chaos of senior year. Still, he was
celibate for years before mating, and had spent months more without sex after
the first time he'd made love to Stiles; he can handle a few days longer. If
not, he always has his own hand.
Even as he slides beneath the sheets with Stiles snoring softly away beside
him, Derek doesn't feel tired, even with the late hour. Something about the
vision has left him feeling strangely energised, like there's an itch under his
skin that won't go away no matter how long he lies still and tries to ignore
it. His wolf prowls back and forth inside of his head, almost like it's on the
lookout for something. He looks sideways at Stiles' bare back, reaching out a
hand and tracing along the pale skin with his index finger like he's playing a
game of Connect the Dots with the teen's many moles. Even though he's done it
more times than he can count in the past, he never stops getting enjoyment out
of it, seeing how many different shapes and patterns he can make with them in
his mind.
Stiles stirs a little under Derek's light touches, turning over in his sleep
and pressing himself close. The teen's face ends up smushed against Derek's
chest, his head resting on the alpha's bicep as their legs intertwine seemingly
of their own will. The man's shirt is still clenched tightly in Stiles' right
hand where it's slung over his waist.
A small shudder wracks through Derek's body when he shifts slightly to make
himself more comfortable, the movement causing Stiles' light breaths to puff
across his right nipple as the teen snuffles impossibly closer and ends up with
his nose buried in the crevice of his armpit. He lies there stock-still until
Stiles lets out a happy, little noise and settles, obviously content with this
new position. The skin-to-skin contact calms the restlessness of his wolf
slightly, and he buries his own nose in Stiles' hair and just concentrates on
his scent, letting it calm him even more. His eyes still don't feel heavy at
all, but it at least reduces the itching under his skin to a manageable tickle.
Glancing up at the clock on the nightstand, he sighs when he sees that it's
nearing four in the morning. He hopes he manages to get some sleep soon so he
doesn't end up waking up ludicrously late. When Stiles' arm clings even tighter
around his torso, though, he knows he's just fooling himself. He'll stay in bed
as long as his mate wants him to, and since it'll be a Sunday and because it's
Stiles, the teen probably won't wake up until gone noon, especially since he
didn't go to bed until late in the first place. If he's honest with himself, he
puts up mild protests and acts like he dislikes it every time, but he actually
secretly revels in their early-morning cuddles, or mid-afternoon cuddles, as
they'll no doubt be this time. They allow him to bask in Stiles' affections,
which never fail to make him feel like he can fly. He jumps when the teen
begins speaking, having not realised that his mate had regained consciousness.
"Der?" Stiles croaks, pulling back slightly and looking up at Derek with groggy
eyes. He blinks a couple of times to get the alpha's face to come into focus
and, when it does, he notices the fact that his mate looks surprisingly awake.
"What's up?"
Shaking his head, Derek tucks Stiles' head back beneath his chin and shushes
the teen, beginning to run his fingers through his hair to lull him back to
sleep. "Don't worry about me, love. I'm fine," he assures, a small smile
appearing on his lips when he almost instantly feels Stiles' body go slack
against his again. It's going to be a long night, he thinks.
***** Jealousy *****
- Sunday, August 12th, 2012 -
Stiles wakes up still nestled in Derek's arms, not able to remember how it was
he got there. He's tucked beneath the alpha's chin with his face pressed into
the man's neck, and when he shifts slightly, he notices that something is
poking him in the stomach. Pulling back slightly and looking down, he snorts
when he sees Derek's morning wood trapped in between their bodies. His head
aches a little bit, and when he glances over his shoulder at the clock on the
nightstand, he knows why. He's slept for longer than he probably should have,
the minute hand inching closer to the three, but he can't really blame himself
because he feels so damn warm, comfortable and content. When he pulls away
fully from Derek, he stares down at his mate's face and frowns when he sees the
dark circles that have formed beneath the alpha's eyes. This causes a faint
memory to return to him, of waking up temporarily in the middle of the night to
find Derek still wide awake. He wonders how long it took the man to fall asleep
as well, and he decides to let him sleep for a while longer as he shuffles over
to the side of the mattress and stands, stretching his arms high above his head
and twisting his body from side to side to pop all of his joints.
Fully dressed, Stiles descends the stairs and makes his way through to the
kitchen. He's a little surprised when he doesn't see a single beta there in the
house with him and that all of the rubbish from the previous night's dinner is
still left in the living room. He switches on the coffee maker, desperate for a
mug of the brown liquid to perk him up and get him ready for the remainder of
the day. It's not long before he hears movement upstairs and sure enough, a
couple of minutes later as he's taking his first, glorious sip of coffee, Derek
enters the kitchen looking like an adorably rumpled puppy.
Derek couldn't be bothered to dress himself properly before going to see where
Stiles had gotten to, only finding the energy to slip a pair of sweatpants on
before leaving the bedroom. He'd blinked his bleary eyes open soon after the
teen had gotten out of bed, his wolf whining in his head because their mate
wasn't lying safe next to them anymore. He barely manages to croak out a
response when he hears Stiles greet him cheerily, but he does stare up at the
teen gratefully when a second mug of coffee is held up under his nose. He
watches Stiles wander around the kitchen with tired eyes, his stomach showing
its interest when the smell of pancakes reaches his nose. It doesn't take him
long to down his coffee and move on to his second, taking more time to savour
this one now that he's thankfully beginning to feel the caffeine's effects. He
shakes his head when his breakfast is placed on the surface in front of him, a
ridiculous whipped cream smile sprayed on the topmost pancake. He doesn't
comment on it and just starts eating immediately, not even waiting for Stiles
to get him a fork and choosing instead to just pick the small stack up in his
hands.
"You look like crap," Stiles points out bluntly, taking a seat on the stool
around the island as well, right next to Derek. He's understating it, really;
the alpha looks absolutely terrible. He's never seen the man look this bad
unless it's in the aftermath of battle. It worries him, and he waits for an
answer before making a start on his own breakfast.
Finishing chewing the food in his mouth and swallowing, Derek nods in response,
thinking that he feels that way, too. "Yeah, my wolf wouldn't let me sleep," he
replies, shrugging. "No idea why." Just like he'd thought, as soon as Stiles
had fallen asleep against him again, he'd been unable to join the teen and
found himself just lying there for hours on end before his eyes finally slipped
closed around midday. If he could, he'd take his wolf out of his head and
throttle it for keep him up for so long.
Stiles frowns at Derek's explanation, still unable to wrap his head around the
concept of 'the wolf', no matter how many times it's explained to him. Scott
had told him soon after he was turned that it's apparently like having two
people in your head, but at the same time they're still one; the wolf just
boils everything down to your base instincts. He guesses that he'll never
really get it unless he asks for the bite, which he still doesn't ever see
himself doing. Maybe if, God forbid, he gets injured near the point of death in
the future, Derek will turn him and he'll finally get it, but the issue isn't
pressing enough for him to contemplate taking that plunge under any different
circumstance. "That sucks," he sympathises, reaching out and rubbing a hand up
and down Derek's back a couple of times before leaving it resting just above
the waistband of the man's sweats. "It's a good thing we don't have anything
planned for today, huh?"
"You can say that again..." Derek mumbles, licking the last remnants of whipped
cream from his fingers, his last pancake gone. He gets up and walks through to
the living room, staring longingly at the sofa before deciding that, fuck it,
he might as well just give in and laze about on it all day while watching
mindless television. It's not like he gives into that impulse often, so he
doesn't feel bad about letting himself flop down on the soft cushions and
snuggling up.
When he picks up the television remote, however, Derek groans loudly when he
sees that the empty pizza boxes are blocking his view of the screen. "Stiles!"
he yells, his voice incredibly whiny. He cringes internally as he hears
himself, not liking that he can sound like that. "Come help me..."
"What's up?" Stiles asks, drying his hands after washing the dishes and
sticking his head around the doorframe to meet Derek's pleading gaze. He rolls
his eyes when the alpha simply gestures to the coffee table, his arm flopping
pathetically down on the floor afterward. Like the good mate he is, he makes
short work of clearing up all of the leftover boxes and containers, having to
make a couple of trips to shove it all inside of the recycling bin. When he
gets back through to the living room, he finds Derek stretched out on the sofa,
his arms behind his head as he stares blankly up at the television. His mate
still looks pretty bad, so he takes pity on the man and retrieves a snuggly-
soft blanket from the airing cupboard and drapes it over him, almost like he's
tucking in a child at night. "Alright, I still have a bunch of stuff to do
around the house, but I want you to just lie here and relax, Mr., OK?" He
points a stern finger down at Derek and doesn't relent until he gets a nod in
return.
Derek doesn't voice any complaints. Though he usually likes to help Stiles out
with the housework, he doesn't think he could get up again even if he tried. He
doesn't really focus on much of anything, his eyes slipping closed eventually
as he listens to the combined sounds of the television and Stiles bustling
between rooms.
The laundry is Stiles' first task. He gathers up everything he can find and
carries it all down to the laundry room, splitting it all up into lights, darks
and colours. He's glad that their machine is slightly larger than average since
there's a substantial amount to get through. It's not just his and Derek's
clothes that need a clean, either; he found piles in each of the betas' rooms,
the dirty clothes they'd discarded after their volleyball game the previous day
being the most recent additions. It's tough to keep track of it all, so he just
does his best to figure what belongs to whom and decides to ignore any
complaints that may be thrown his way later. They've usually come from Jackson
or Erica in the past, the two of them becoming particularly affronted should he
ever dare to make a mistake and give them a garment that isn't theirs—"Why on
earth would I ever wear something like this?!". After doing all of the betas'
clothes first, he moves onto his and Derek's, unable to resist holding the
alpha's tank top from the day before up to his nose. He only tosses it in the
machine with the rest after having a good sniff, the scent of his mate's sweat
making him a little dizzy.
As usual, when he makes his way through all of the bedrooms on the second
floor, he finds each of the betas' rooms left in disarray. Given the fact that
none of them spend that much time up there when they hang out at the house,
he's surprised that they still manage to create such a mess. He comes back
downstairs with two full bin liners in his hands, huffing as he dumps them
outside because they ended up being pretty heavy.
His next task is to check on the things he has growing in the back garden, so
Stiles just walks around the house instead of going back inside, frowning in
confusion when he gets to his destination and finds a couple of sizeable dents
in the dirt of the vegetable patch. He stands there for almost a full minute as
he tries to think of what could have caused them before coming to the
conclusion that someone must have gotten clumsy with the volleyball yesterday
and ruined his work. He huffs before tending to the dirt, checking to see
whether anything deeper down has been disturbed. A relieved smile appears on
his face when he sees that no damage has been caused, but still, he vows to
find out which beta was responsible so that he can scold them and tell them to
be more careful. His money is on Scott.
Speak of the devil, Stiles thinks after his phone beeps and he looks down at
the screen to see a text from the careless beta. His friend wants to know if
he'd like to come over that evening and have one of their old 'boys nights',
stuffing their faces as they play video games and watch crappy movies.
The offer sounds incredibly tempting, but Stiles doesn't feel right leaving
Derek alone in that moment, so he declines with the promise of doing it
sometime in the following couple of weeks instead. He was probably only asked
because Allison and Kira were both busy anyway. When he reenters the house, he
finds that Derek has passed out, his arm hanging off the side of the sofa and
the remote on the floor a couple of inches away from his hand. Stiles stands
there in the doorway for a couple of minutes and just watches his mate sleep,
pleased that the man is actually getting some now, since it really looked like
he needed it earlier. After looking his fill, he tucks the blanket more
securely around Derek's body—shushing his mate gently when the alpha shows
signs of stirring and cooing at his cuteness when he immediately settles
again—and carries on with his chores. He leaves the vacuuming for a later time,
not wanting to disturb Derek's rest with something so loud.
All in all, Stiles is surprised when he finds himself finished with everything
just two hours later, and he stands in his and Derek's bedroom after putting
their clean laundry away, wondering what the hell he should do now. He regrets
turning Scott down earlier, but not enough to actually pick up his phone and
send another text to the beta. Instead, he sighs and heads back down to the
living room, staring at Derek longingly before shrugging and carefully climbing
over the alpha. He manages to get himself beneath the warm blanket relatively
easily, wedging himself between the back of the sofa and his mate's strong body
before resting his head on the man's chest and slinging an arm around his
waist. The television is still on, and he just lies there and watches it at
first, not really feeling tired himself. Still, after a while, he finds himself
getting incredibly comfortable as his eyes drift away from whatever show is
currently playing to settle on Derek's slack face.
The alpha looks years younger in sleep, a fact that still melts Stiles' heart
and reminds him that his mate isn't as tough as he seems beneath all of his
bravado. Grinning to himself, he manages to slide his phone out of his jeans
pocket and snaps a quick picture, pressing his lips to Derek's bearded jaw and
looking cheekily up at the camera. His smile morphs into something more
affectionate when he sees the result and he immediately sets it as his lock
screen wallpaper. Derek probably wouldn't approve, but he figures that what the
man doesn't know won't hurt him.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, August 18th, 2012 -
Luckily, for the rest of the week, Derek's sleeping pattern returns to normal
and he doesn't have another problem getting the rest he needs. Before he knows
it, the following weekend has arrived and Stiles has roped him into joining
himself and Charlie as he shows the girl around Beacon Hills. He's not too
thrilled about it, but he decides to give her a chance since his mate can't
seem to stop going on about her. It's a bit annoying if he's honest with
himself, and his wolf isn't too sure what to think of their mate making a new
friend outside of the pack. Nevertheless, he walks downstairs on Saturday
morning after Stiles calls up to him impatiently, telling him to get a move on
so that they're not late picking Charlie up. "Alright, I'm coming!" he yells
back exasperatedly, jumping the last few stairs and landing gracefully in the
foyer. He ignores Stiles' scoff and uncurls his body before taking his leather
jacket from its hook on the wall and slipping it on.
"You certainly took your time," Stiles comments as he opens the door and
marches outside, sending a smirk back at Derek when the alpha releases a mock
threatening growl in his direction. "Save the growling for the bedroom,
Sourwolf... Now, unlock the car, please."
"Keep your pants on," Derek responds, taking his time descending the front
steps and walking across the grass. "I don't see why you're in such a rush,
anyway. I doubt she'd care if we ended up being a few minutes late. It wouldn't
be the end of the world..." He sticks his keys in the door and does as Stiles
ordered anyway, rolling his eyes when the teen immediately flings the passenger
door open and all but throws himself in his seat. He's about to ask where
Charlie lives, since he didn't pay that much attention when Stiles told him the
first time, when his mate thrusts his phone in his face, a tinny, female voice
coming from the speaker that begins giving directions. He takes the device and
fits it snugly in the compartment on the dashboard before pulling up the
parking brake, making a u-turn and driving the car down to the main road.
"So...what exactly are we going to be showing her today?"
Stiles glances at Derek before returning to look out of the window to his
right. "Oh, we'll be taking her 'round all of the best places in town," he
explains easily, counting all of his old haunts off on his fingers. He hasn't
been to a lot of them in a while, so he thinks it'll be nice to revisit them
now. "And as much as your serious face turns me on, I think we're meeting her
mom before we leave, so no glaring! I want your eyebrows to behave themselves
so we can make a good impression." Sure enough, when he looks back over at
Derek, he finds that his mate is already wearing the sour expression that
resulted in his nickname. He reaches over and smoothes the pad of his thumb
over the wrinkled skin between the alpha's eyebrows, repeating the movement
until the man's face relaxes again. "That's better!"
When Stiles goes to take his fingers back, Derek turns his head and bites down
on them lightly, looking off to the left to keep his eyes on the road. He
shakes his head a little before releasing the teen, hoping he'll get the
message to never do that again. Still following the directions being given to
him by his mate's phone, he smirks to himself when he overhears Stiles
grumbling quietly in his seat.
Rubbing at the teeth marks on his fingers, Stiles sits and pouts. He notices
that Derek appears to be ignoring him now and takes his cue from the man,
ignoring him right back. They sit in playful silence for the remainder of the
ride until Derek pulls the car up outside of a small, modern-looking house. The
place is two storeys, painted a unassuming beige on one side with wood
panelling on the other. Stiles peers through the passenger-side window and nods
when he sees the number written above the front door, taking his phone back and
letting out a sigh of relief when he sees that they've made it just in the nick
of time. He exits the Camaro and waits for Derek to do the same before jogging
up the front steps and knocking on the door. They stand side by side for the
few seconds it takes for someone to answer his call, glancing around the area
with mild interest. He hasn't been to this street since the new housing
development was put in several months previous, so everything about it is new
to him. He returns his gaze to the door when it swings open suddenly, revealing
Charlie on the other side.
Throwing herself at the boy in front of her, Charlie wraps her arms around
Stiles' neck and hugs him tightly. "Stiles! I'm so glad you showed up!" she
greets, keeping the embrace going for several seconds longer. She only lets up
when she hears a strange noise coming from right next to them. Her eyes widen
when she sees Derek standing a couple of inches away, the man's eyes narrowed
and his top lip curled back in a fierce snarl. She immediately releases Stiles
and backs away.
Stiles smacks Derek on his chest and gives the alpha a pointed look when he
snaps out of his glaring. "Way to make a good first impression, Mr.," he
chastises lightly, bumping their shoulders together and offering Charlie a
reassuring smile to try and defuse the tension that has suddenly appeared.
Turning back to Derek, he nods approvingly when he sees that the man looks
sufficiently ashamed of himself. Although he's pleased that his mate appears to
regret his earlier abrasiveness, he doesn't want to see that hangdog expression
on his face any longer than he has to, so he moves the conversation along.
"Now, care to try again?" He watches as Derek sticks out his hand and looks up
at Charlie, his face impassive. It's a start, Stiles supposes. He hopes things
between the two become more friendly as the day wears on, and he plans to make
that hope a reality if it kills him. He wants them to get along.
Derek doesn't really know what came over him when Charlie hugged Stiles. After
shaking the girl's hand, he thinks about his actions as he follows Stiles into
the house. He guesses it's because he doesn't know her and doesn't trust her
yet around his mate, especially not enough to be comfortable with physical
contact between the two teens. It reminds him of how territorial his wolf had
been the first few weeks after he and Stiles sealed their bond. Not even the
pack was safe from his wrath should they get too close to his new mate. It was
incredibly embarrassing after it all calmed down.
When Charlie offers to get her guests a beverage, both Stiles and Derek refuse,
having already taken care of that before they left their house earlier. "My mom
should be down in a couple of minutes..." she says awkwardly, taking a seat
opposite the two boys. She eyes Derek critically, trying to see beneath the
hard exterior to the 'cuddly teddy bear' Stiles had said was there. She doesn't
see it yet.
All three of their heads turn to face the stairs when they hear footsteps
approaching. A woman comes into the room, her long, black silk dress billowing
around her feet. The fabric is broken up with small sections of fine lace.
Stiles assumes this is Charlie's mother. The woman is very tall, probably only
an inch or two shorter than Derek, and her skin bears a healthy-looking tan, a
stark contrast to the paleness of her daughter. Her black hair is slicked up
into a high ponytail, and his eyes widen when he gets a glimpse of how long it
is, the ends almost reaching down to her waist.
The woman glances between the two strangers on her sofa before settling her
eyes on the younger of the two. "Ah, I was wondering when you would get here,"
she says amiably as she floats over to the teen and makes to greet him. She
smiles kindly when the boy rushes to his feet and sticks out a shaking hand,
obviously nervous. "Relax, child; I'm not going to bite you or something. My
name is Elizabeth. Stiles, is it?" She takes the boy's hand when he nods
hastily, nodding her acceptance when he gushes out that he's happy to finally
meet her. She glances over her shoulder at Charlie, curious about what tales
her daughter has been telling. She'll have to ask later. After she releases
Stiles' hand, her eyes land on the unfriendly-looking man still sitting on the
sofa and quirks an eyebrow at him speculatively, wondering who he is. "And you
are?"
Stiles speaks up before his mate can answer, figuring it's better if he makes
the introduction himself so that the alpha doesn't potentially mess it up.
"This is my boyfriend, Derek Hale," he explains, watching nervously and
breathing in deeply through his nose when the man lays on the charm thick. It
reminds him of the time not long after they'd met, when they'd sneaked into the
sheriff's station and Derek had distracted the woman behind the desk so he
could slip past unnoticed. The sight makes him want to roll his eyes now just
as much as it did back then. It's probably not discernible to anybody who
doesn't know the alpha well, but to him, he can instantly see that Derek's
smile is fake. It doesn't fully reach his eyes and it's nowhere near as
beautiful as his genuine one, which Stiles still doesn't see as much as he'd
like. He knows what Charlie's mother is thinking as her eyes flick between the
two of them, and he's grateful when she doesn't point out the age difference
like Charlie had done before. He's almost eighteen anyway, so he doesn't feel
that it matters in the slightest.
"I see..." Elizabeth says slowly, getting a strange expression on her face that
she instantly shakes off. From then on, her face becomes considerably more
congenial. "Well, it's lovely to the meet the two of you. It was very kind of
you to offer to show my daughter around and I want you to know that I
appreciate it. I work full-time, so I haven't been able to do it myself yet."
"It's no problem, really. We're happy to do it," Stiles assures, elbowing Derek
in the ribs as subtly as he can to get the man to nod along and keep up his
friendly act. The smile the alpha plasters back on his face looks particularly
wooden, so much so that Stiles knows it must look that way to everyone else,
too. He cringes internally. This meeting really isn't going the way he'd
planned.
Elizabeth looks knowingly at Derek, not speaking until her unflinching gaze
causes the man to look away. Turning back to Stiles, she reaches out and rests
a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I might admit that I had my
reservations about this when Charlie asked me about it last week, but after
meeting you, I can tell she'll be in good hands," she says, checking her watch.
"Now, I really must be off; I'm almost late for work. I swear, if I'd known
that damned bank would make me work on the weekends, I never would've taken
this job... Have fun, you three!" She grabs her purse from where it rests in an
armchair before marching out the door with a wave.
"So...I think that went pretty well," Stiles comments, breaking the silence
that has fallen over the room. As soon as the sound of Elizabeth's car
disappears, he turns to look at Charlie expectantly. "So, should we get going
as well?" Before the girl can lead the way out of the house, he looks off to
the side and sees gladly that Derek doesn't appear to be paying close attention
to them. He whips out his phone and sends off a quick text to Charlie, telling
her that she should compliment the alpha's car to get him to begin warming up
to her. He knows that the best way for someone to ingratiate themselves with
his mate is to say something nice about his wheels. When Charlie nods her
agreement, they both head outside. He listens intently to the shuffling of
Derek's footsteps behind them and thinks that he's really going to have to give
the alpha a good kick up the butt when they get home later.
Putting it out of his mind of now, Stiles smiles widely when Charlie begins
gushing about how fabulous she finds the Camaro. At the compliment, he glances
sideways and sees that Derek is eyeing Charlie warily, almost as if the man is
deciding whether the girl is being sarcastic or not. Eventually, he's pleased
when Derek seems to finally drop his icy exterior. He gives himself a mental
pat on the back for his genius.
Stiles sits in the back of the car with Charlie and gives Derek directions. He
shows his new friend most of the town, all of the parts he deems to be at least
acceptable places in which to kill time. At around two in the afternoon,
Derek's stomach begins to rumble. This makes both Charlie and Stiles realise
that they're also hungry, so they make a detour to Steve's Diner, the
establishment Derek had taken him to once while Landon was trying to kill them
all. They've revisited the place a couple of times since then when Stiles
couldn't be bothered to cook anything or order takeout, and he was glad to get
an unfamiliar waitress on both occasions. Tiffany, the rude waitress who'd
served them during their first visit, was nowhere to be found.
Unfortunately, as soon as Stiles walks through the diner's entrance, he sees
the unlikeable girl stood right in front of them. From the way her eyes narrow,
he knows she remembers them, too. Still, he tries to put his best foot forward
and avoid any conflict in deference to Charlie. The plan lasts all of two
minutes before loud bickering can be heard coming from behind the door that
says 'Staff Only'. Derek relays the gist of the heated 'discussion' when he
asks, giving Charlie the excuse that he just has really good ears.
"Apparently she's refusing to wait on us again," Derek says disinterestedly,
staring down at his menu as he tries to decide what to order. He hopes the
woman doesn't dare to spit in his food. As quick as the worry had come, it
disappears again and his head snaps up when he hears what he assumes is her
manager get tired of her 'bullcrap'—the other man's words, not his—and tell her
that she's fired. Tiffany comes storming out of the door a few seconds later
and exits the building after throwing a scathing glare in his direction.
"What was all that about?" Charlie asks curiously, staring out of the window
and watching Tiffany angrily slam her car door and peel out of the parking lot.
She thinks the woman actually leaves skid marks on the concrete.
Stiles tries to wipe the smirk off of his face, but gives up after a couple of
seconds when he finds he cannot get his facial muscles to cooperate. "That's
probably my fault," he explains, chuckling quietly and glancing sideways at
Derek. A barely-there smile is on the alpha's lips, too, though the man seems
to be trying to appear like the scene they just witnessed didn't affect him.
"The first time Derek brought me here, she tried to hit on him right in front
of me. I didn't like that, so...I may have given her a very clear message that
he was already taken. She was obviously still holding a grudge, but what can
you do?"
The last stop on Charlie's tour ends up being one of the clearings out in the
preserve, the one that Stiles used to frequent with Scott whenever they managed
to get their hands on some alcohol. Revisiting it now brings back a lot of
memories of simpler times, and when he looks back on them he realises that,
while he'd thought he was happy then, it's nothing compared to the way his life
is now. He wouldn't go back for anything, not even to see his dad alive again.
He feels a little guilty for thinking that way, but he knows the man would
understand. "So basically, there's not much to this place except that it's good
to come to if you ever need some time alone," he says, trying to balance
himself on the very edge of a tree stump. He isn't successful and ends up
almost toppling over, but he manages to play it off well for once. "And if you
have some booze with you, it's even better. You can just sit out here and look
up at all the stars as you lament how shitty your life is." He keeps his tone
light to let Charlie know that he's only joking, for the most part, at least.
"I've never been drunk before," Charlie muses, leaning against one of the tree
trunks and looking up at the sky. It's a pleasant blue that makes her feel
incredibly calm and safe. She turns to Derek, who stands a couple of paces away
from Stiles. The man looks like he's on constant alert, ready to catch the boy
should he actually fall over. From what the rest of his friends have told her,
it's highly probable. "Did you get it for him, Derek?"
Derek flicks his eyes over to Charlie for a brief second before settling them
once more on his wandering mate. "No," he says simply, his attitude having
soured throughout the day despite Stiles' efforts to keep them up. He
grudgingly admits to himself that Charlie isn't as annoying as he thought she'd
be, but that doesn't mean he actually likes the girl yet. "I'd never buy
alcohol for someone who's underage and I don't condone Stiles and everyone else
drinking, but having said that, I allow it if they manage to get it elsewhere
and stay responsible." Luckily, no one in the pack has thus far gotten into any
trouble while under the influence, but he figures that it's just a matter of
time until they do. He makes a bet with himself that it'll be either Erica or
Scott, or maybe Jackson.
Soon enough, the sun starts to set in the sky and they make their way back out
of the preserve, heading in the direction of the Camaro so Derek can drive
Charlie home. The girl keeps the conversation flowing the entire way, and Derek
ends up walking a few feet behind the two teenagers as they talk. She looks
back over her shoulder at the man, frowning at the way he keeps his eyes on his
feet. Although she still hasn't seen Derek's 'cuddly' personality firsthand
yet, she has witnessed glimpses throughout the day that made her realise just
how much the man loves Stiles. They were heartwarming to see. "So, how did you
and Derek actually meet?" Charlie asks the other teen, getting slightly out of
breath from all of the walking. She frowns at herself and thinks that she
really needs to adopt a more active lifestyle. "I mean, I know you told me
briefly last week, but I want all the details! Let me live vicariously."
"We met in the preserve, actually. It was the day after me and Scott came here
at night like I told you before. He'd lost his inhaler and we were looking for
it when Derek showed up and told us to leave because it was 'private
property'," Stiles begins, more than happy to recount the progression of his
and his mate's relationship. It makes for a good story, he feels. "At first, we
absolutely hated each other. He was really grumpy and I was loud and obnoxious,
so it was a recipe for disaster, really. I mean, objectively, I could see he
was absolutely fucking gorgeous, but yeah...not very friendly." He glances back
and winks at Derek when he sees that the man is staring at him with wide eyes
and pink-tipped ears. "Anyway, we kept getting thrown into all these weird
situations together, and as my friends and I grew closer together, he was
always lumped in with us, the poor sucker. After a while, I began seeing who he
was underneath all of the glaring and the eyebrows and I must have calmed down
or something, because he suddenly started acting a lot nicer toward me.
"We found out we had more in common than we thought we did, and eventually I
got confused at all the things he began doing for me, like comforting me if I
got upset or whatever, so I asked him about it. He just came right out and told
me he had feelings for me, and that was that. We've been together ever since."
By this point, the trees begin to part and the Camaro comes into view. Stiles
is about to get in the backseat with Charlie again when he's stopped and pulled
against a firm, warm body. He gasps in shock and just holds on for the ride as
Derek's tongue invades his mouth. Before he knows it, he's standing alone
outside of the car, Charlie cackling within and Derek sitting in the driver's
seat, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary has just happened. Blinking
dumbly, Stiles finally opens his door and gets in.
                                     * * *
When they drop Charlie off at her house, Stiles walks her to the door to bid
her goodbye. He finds himself roped into another hug and returns it easily,
having always been a tactile person. The girl places a light kiss on his cheek
before she disappears behind the closed front door, leaving Stiles to walk back
down the steps to rejoin Derek in the car.
Derek's hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he drives them back home. He'd
seen the whole scene and is now incensed. The trust he'd felt building for
Charlie had been shattered by the display of affection, his wolf growling
loudly in his mind at the mere sight of the seemingly innocent kiss she'd given
their mate. Stiles appears to be completely oblivious to his internal
struggles, the boy babbling on about who knows what. He can't focus his mind
enough to make out more than every other word, a constant mantra of 'mine-mate-
claim' running through his head on a loop.
Stiles seemingly remains oblivious to Derek's inner turmoil for the rest of the
journey and continues talking even as they both walk through the front door. "I
mean, I'm happy she seems to be settling in well, you know?" he rambles,
hanging up his hoodie one of the the hooks that are screwed into the wall on
the foyer wall. He's about to head through to the kitchen and make a start at
preparing dinner for the two of them when his world blurs and his back connects
with the wall painfully, the air knocked from his lungs. It takes him a couple
of seconds to realise what has happened, and when he does, he blinks at Derek
with wide, surprised eyes. The alpha stands close, his hands pinning him in
place and his eyes glowing red, an expression of anger on his face as he
breathes heavily. "You feeling OK there, buddy? What crawled up your butt?"
He's confused at the sudden turn of events. He could sense that his mate was
still slightly grumpy earlier in the car, but never did he think the man's
temperament had declined this much. He almost recoils in fear when Derek leans
forward until he can feel the alpha's mouth right next to his ear, his breath
hot as it blows across the lobe.
"Nothing's crawled up mine, but something sure as hell is gonna be crawling up
yours soon..." Derek breathes, closing the distance between them and clamping
down hard on Stiles' ear with his teeth. He sucks the flesh inside of his mouth
and laves his tongue over the mark he just made to soothe it until he feels the
teen's body begin to quiver against him. "You think it was a good idea to let
her fawn all over you when I was just a few feet away? Was that your whole
plan, to work me up and leave me hanging over and over again until I got sick
of it and took back what's mine?"
His mind coming back to him when Derek finally releases his ear, Stiles stares
up at the ceiling and tries to pull against the alpha's hands. It's pointless,
though; his mate's grip is too strong. "I honestly have no idea what you're
talking about," he answers, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist to stop
himself from falling when the man lifts him up and starts walking up the stairs
without comment.
After kicking the bedroom door closed with a slam, Derek tosses Stiles on the
bed and immediately advances on the teen, crawling up across the mattress like
an animal moving in on its prey. When he blankets his mate's body with his own,
he pauses for a second and scents the air to make sure he's not actually
scaring the boy, a smirk appearing on his lips when he can detect nothing but
arousal and a little embarrassment. "I think you knew exactly what you were
doing," he continues, planting his hands on either side of Stiles' head and
leaning down until their noses are almost touching, keeping eye contact the
entire time. "I think you secretly enjoyed all the attention your new little
friend was giving you. I think you wanted me to get angry, but you see...that's
just not very nice. I think I may have to teach you a lesson and re-stake my
claim so you know just who you belong to..." The last three words are said at a
whisper, and he watches with amusement as they cause Stiles' pupils to dilate
even further until almost none of the teen's beautiful cinnamon-coloured irises
can be seen. The pale skin of Stiles' neck flushes an inviting red, just
begging to be bitten and marked. He plans on doing just that.
Leaving the bed, Derek shrugs out of his leather jacket and discards it
carelessly on the floor, his shirt soon following before he begins unbuckling
the belt looped through his jeans and pulling down the zipper. "Strip," he
orders, still not taking his eyes off of the body lying prostrate on the bed.
"I want you naked and waiting for me by the time I return." Without even
looking back, Derek heads through to the bathroom to begin preparing for what
he has planned.
Derek's mouth waters when he returns to the bedroom, the sight of Stiles
positioned perfectly as he waits making his wolf go insane inside of his head.
He carries two items in his left hand, and he puts them down on the floor next
to the bed before the teen can turn his head and see them ahead of time. Now
fully naked himself, his erect cock bobs heavily between his legs as he
shuffles onto the bed and positions himself between Stiles' spread legs. He
crouches down so that their faces are close again. "You want to know what I'm
gonna do to you?" he asks teasingly, his voice dripping sex as he stares down
into Stiles' eyes. He runs his hands up the teen's sides and chuckles when his
body jumps at his touch, Stiles' abdominal muscles twitching as he ghosts his
fingers in a circle around his bellybutton. He doesn't continue until the boy
beneath him nods jerkily. "I'm gonna mark up every inch of your body with my
mouth until you're covered in my marks. I'm gonna suck you off and feed you
your own come, then I'm gonna open you up on my tongue and fingers and keep
going until you come again from that alone. I'm gonna keep going until you're
begging me to fuck you, begging me to shove my cock so far up inside of you
that you won't be able to walk straight for days.
"I'm gonna fuck you and knot you so hard and make you come over and over and
over again until you're coming dry..." A faint whiff of pre-come hits Derek's
nose, and he looks down to see that a bead of the stuff is forming at the slit
of Stiles' cock. "You want that?" he asks, shaking his head when the teen just
nods again. He wants to hear his mate actually say the words.
Stiles' mouth feels incredibly dry, and it takes him a couple of seconds to
find the strength to open his mouth and respond. "God, yes..." he breathes, his
voice cracking because he's so turned on. He loves it whenever Derek gets all
dominant and possessive like this in the bedroom, though it doesn't happen
nearly as often as he'd like it to. He supposes that he'll just have to work
the alpha up again whenever he wants it like this in the future, like he'd
apparently done earlier with Charlie.
Derek closes the distance between them and devours Stiles' mouth, sucking on
the teen's tongue and running his own around it before pulling back and biting
down on his bottom lip. He drags it with him when he pulls back and only
releases it when he hears Stiles whimper quietly. "Good boy," he whispers
fondly, cupping his mate's cheek and stroking his thumb across his kiss-swollen
lips. "Just keep being a good boy for me and you'll get what you want, but only
when I say it's time, OK?" He lets Stiles get away with a simple nod for now,
smiling down at him when the teen leans into his hand and looks up at him with
wide, lust-filled eyes. He strokes down along Stiles' long throat, feeling the
tendons jump under his touch and staring at the way his Adam's apple bobs. He
seals his mouth over it and sucks hard, getting just the reaction he was hoping
for when Stiles arches up into him, their hard lengths rubbing together, slick
and messy with pre-come.
Rubbing his face over the pale skin of Stiles' neck so that his facial hair
scrapes across it deliciously, Derek keeps his hips moving and supports himself
his left hand as he runs his right down the teen's torso, pausing to tweak his
nipple none too gently. Stiles cries out beneath him, and he grins into his
mate's collarbone before moving down and sealing his lips around his other
nipple, swirling his tongue around the raised nub and biting down on it. He
keeps going as Stiles practically thrashes beneath him, a litany of desperate
noises escaping the teen's mouth as he moves past the point of pleasure and
into pain.
When he withdraws his mouth, Derek stares down at his handiwork and feels a
deep sense of satisfaction when he sees that both of Stiles' nipples look
swollen and red, overworked. Still, he can't resist going one step further and
rubbing his cheek against them both, his beard irritating the already over-
sensitised nubs until Stiles pushes weakly at his head. He acquiesces to the
teen's silent command and relents, moving further down instead until Stiles'
straining erection is right in front of his face. The teen's cock is rock-hard
and red, desperate for some stimulation and relief. He wastes no time and wraps
his lips around it, immediately sinking all the way down the shaft until his
nose is buried in the curls at the base. The scent of his mate drives his wolf
crazy. He bobs his head up and down Stiles' length, the teen's hands tangling
in his hair as he works.
It's not long before Derek senses that Stiles' first orgasm of the evening is
approaching, the teen's thighs twitching on either side of his head and his
hips jerking upward in little, aborted thrusts. He doesn't let up and sucks
hard until the first spurt of come hits the back of his throat, not swallowing
any of it and just letting it all gather in his mouth. When Stiles shakes
through the aftershocks, he reluctantly pulls off and shuffles forward until
he's staring down into his mate's flushed, sweaty face. Waiting until the
teen's eyes blink open and look back at him blearily, he presses one of his
fingers against Stiles' bottom lip until his mate gets the message and parts
his lips. Opening his own mouth, he watches, entranced, as the teen's come
drips down onto his waiting tongue. He chases after it, kissing Stiles
passionately and passing the taste back and forth between them both for a
minute before retreating and instructing the teen to swallow his own mess. He
fits his hands lightly around Stiles' neck and feels his throat working as his
mate does as he asked.
Pleased, Derek smiles down at Stiles for a second before flipping the teen over
onto his hands and knees without warning. He slides into place behind Stiles
and cups his palms around his mate's pale, mole-dotted ass, squeezing a couple
of times and smirking to himself when the teen's body jolts forward at his
touch. "Mine..." he breaths as he pulls Stiles' cheeks apart and stares
hungrily at the tight hole hidden between. He can easily see just how much his
possessive declaration is affecting Stiles, the teen's body shaking with
anticipation under his gaze.
Derek strokes his thumb down Stiles' crack, pausing to press insistently right
at the teen's core before moving on and cupping his balls in a large hand. They
try to draw up closer to their owner's body at his touch, but he doesn't let
them, tugging on them lightly instead to keep them hanging low. Leaning
forward, he noses across Stiles' left cheek, nipping at the skin gently with
his teeth. His right hand comes down harshly against its twin when he feels his
mate try to jerk away from his mouth, his palm slapping loudly against the pale
globe and causing Stiles to whine high in his throat. "Stay still..." he
orders, looking sideways and finding that he actually quite likes the faint red
handprint that he finds on the teen's firm cheek. In fact, he likes it so much
that he repeats his earlier action, his palm connecting harshly with the
already-inflamed skin. He smiles, pleased, when Stiles doesn't move this time,
though the teen doesn't quite manage to muffle the small sound he makes in the
pillow. He doesn't like that. "Uh-uh. No hiding, love." He grips the hair at
the back of Stiles' head and turns him to the side so that his face is no
longer buried in the pillow. "I want to hear every little noise I can get out
of you..."
When he sees that Stiles looks a little unsure of himself, Derek runs his hands
soothingly up and down the long curve of the teen's back until his body loses
its tension. "There you go," he says quietly, sliding his palms down Stiles'
spine one last time before spreading the teen's cheeks once more. He just dives
straight in now, lapping at the tight rim and squeezing the smooth globes
repeatedly with his hands to coax the clenched muscle to relax and grant him
entrance. He moans when he manages to dip the tip of his tongue inside, the
taste of Stiles' most intimate place bursting across his tastebuds.
Easing the index finger of his right hand inside of Stiles' ass alongside his
tongue, Derek becomes ravenous, wanting to just eat up his mate and consume
him. His finger sinks in to the last knuckle with his saliva's help, and he
searches around for a couple of seconds until he finds what he's looking for.
Stiles whimpers noisily above him as he rubs across the teen's prostate
unrelentingly.
With his other hand, Derek reaches beneath Stiles' body and wraps his fingers
around his mate's reawakening erection, jacking him off slowly as the flesh
fills out and grows hard in his grip. The noises falling from the teen's mouth
become more desperate as he works his mouth, finger and hand in sync with each
other, looking to wangle a second orgasm from the boy. Stiles appears torn
between rutting forward into his hand and pushing his ass back to get more of
his tongue inside. Adding a second finger, Derek removes his mouth and rubs
both digits against Stiles' prostate, sitting up as straight as he can and
staring down at the red face of his mate. The teen's eyes are clenched shut and
his mouth his wide open as he pants out his pleasure.
"You gonna come for me?" Derek asks huskily, loving the way Stiles' ass
clenches around his fingers each time the teen moves his hips. He can't wait to
feel that tightness and warmth wrapped around his cock, his knot. As soon as he
senses that Stiles is close, he cups his hand around the tip of his mate's cock
and collects the come that shoots out when his orgasms hits, keeping up his
assault on the teen's prostate to prolong it all.
When the last weak spurt of warmth hits his hand, Derek withdraws and spreads
Stiles' come along his cock, slicking it up in preparation for the main event.
He hastily wipes his hand off on the sheets before flipping Stiles onto his
back again before the teen can slump over sideways. Bracketing Stiles' head in
with his forearms, Derek leans over his mate and positions the head of his cock
so that it rubs across the teen's stretched opening. "You want this?" he asks
teasingly, pushing his hips forward a tiny bit so that he starts to breach
Stiles' hole, only to pull back again before he actually gets inside. He does
this a couple more times until the teen looks up at him with irritation clear
in his eyes. He smirks. "Is that a yes?"
After Stiles breathes out his shaky assent, Derek finally allows himself to
sink inside properly. There hasn't really been enough prep to avoid Stiles
feeling any pain from the initial penetration, but he doesn't stop since he
knows from earlier conversations that his mate actually quite likes the sting
of it.
Derek holds himself still when his hips come flush with the firm globes of
Stiles' ass, his heavy balls resting low against the smooth curve. Stiles is
panting beneath him, the teen's hands grasping around his biceps tightly as he
rides out the pain and gets used to the intense stretch. Just like he thought,
the feel of Stiles' channel clenching tight and wet around him makes him want
to pound into it without stopping, but that will come later. For now, when his
mate gives him the go-ahead, he pulls out unerringly slowly. His pace is kept
sedate, knowing that Stiles will soon be begging for more.
On and on it goes, Stiles tipping his head back and exposing his neck as Derek
grazes the head of his cock against his prostate deliberately slowly on each
thrust. Derek isn't one to pass up such an open invitation, so he leans down
and bites and sucks his way across the flushed skin of his mate's neck. He only
moves on to each new patch when he sees that the one he's been working on has
been bruised enough so that his mark won't fade completely for days.
Stiles' hands end up fisted in Derek's hair, and the alpha can feel the
vibrations of all of the teen's moans against his lips, making him attack the
skin beneath him all the more fervently. He keeps going until he feels Stiles'
fingers pull particularly hard on his hair, the teen's ass clenching down tight
on his cock as his svelte body shudders beneath his own. Looking down between
them, Derek sees Stiles' cock spurt feebly, only producing a couple of small
strands of white, which immediately get smeared between their stomachs by his
slow thrusts. Not nearly done with the boy yet, he goes back to attacking
Stiles' skin with his mouth, not caring when his mate slumps back against the
mattress, worn out. When he's finished, Derek levers himself back up on his
arms and looks down at his handiwork, smirking in contentment when he sees that
the entirety of Stiles' neck and chest is like a mosaic of hickies, every inch
of the skin bearing his mark and claim. There won't be any question about who
he belongs to now, he thinks, his wolf howling with pride in his head,
obviously in agreement.
"Please..."
The breathless plea gets Derek's attention, and he leans down and puts his ear
close to Stiles' mouth so that he can hear the quiet sound better. "What was
that?" he responds, knowing very well what his mate wants. Still, he's
unwilling to actually give it to the boy until he hears him beg for it. "You
want something? 'Cause if you do, you're gonna have to tell me..."
Stiles glares up at Derek with hazy eyes, grunting quietly when the alpha's
cock strokes against his prostate again. "You asshole," he croaks out, gritting
his teeth as he reaches up to tug on the man's thick, dark hair. "If you don't
pick up the pace and really give it to me, we're never having sex again."
Derek looks down at Stiles with an eyebrow raised, impressed that the teen
still has the mental capacity to sound so lucid. Clearly, he's not doing his
job properly. Grinning toothily down at his mate, he allows his face to shift,
his fangs coming out and poking against his bottom lip and his eyes glowing the
fierce red that always causes a spike in Stiles' heartbeat. This time is no
different, and his grin widens even more when he hears the teen's heart skip in
his chest as he maintains eye contact. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he
whispers huskily, drawing his hips back once more and keeping them there for a
few seconds, the head of his cock the only part remaining inside. When Stiles
starts to look impatient again, he snaps his hips forward brutally and makes
his pace punishing, his balls slapping audibly against the teen's ass.
The headboard smacks against the wall with each one of Derek's thrusts, so loud
that he doesn't think even the soundproofing would stop it being heard around
the whole house. His wolf thinks it's a shame that no one else is there in that
moment to be witness to them claiming their mate in this way, though he himself
is glad for it, knowing he wouldn't be able to look any of his pack in the eye
ever again if they were.
When Stiles' nails rake particularly harshly across the shifting muscle of his
back, Derek growls deeply and captures both of his mate's wrists in his hands,
shoving them down into the pillow above the teen's head so that he's completely
powerless. The fact that he can feel Stiles' cock valiantly trying to get hard
again against his stomach lets him know that the teen is very much enjoying his
rough treatment. His knot begins to form, swelling up slowly at the base of his
cock, but he doesn't slow down. He keeps up his unrelenting pace, pushing
through the feeble resistance Stiles' ass puts up as he shoves his growing knot
through the tight ring again and again. Gradually, it gets harder and harder to
pull out each time, and eventually he stops when he's sheathed completely, not
wanting to accidentally harm his mate. There, surrounded by twitching warmth,
his knot forms to completion and locks them together, his cock beginning to
shoot rope after rope of thick come deep inside.
Even with the two of them locked together and his orgasm washing through him,
Derek isn't done with Stiles just yet. No, he thinks his mate still has one
last orgasm of his own in him, and to pull it out of the teen, he grinds his
knot up against his prostate again and again. He smirks when Stiles cries out
and whines constantly at the new onslaught, trying fruitlessly to pull his
hands free of his grip.
Transferring both of Stiles' wrists to one hand, Derek runs the other down
Stiles' body until it wraps around his mate's erection, stroking across it
lightly. He makes sure to keep his touches gentle, knowing that the length is
bound to be incredibly sensitive after being worked so much in such a short
amount of time. He moves his hand in tandem with his hips, swiping his thumb
across the slit at the same time his knot pushes against Stiles' prostate. It
doesn't take long until he feels another orgasm rip its way through the teen's
body, his cock pulsing in his hand without anything spurting forth from the
slit, coming dry.
Stiles is nearly sobbing when Derek lets go of his cock, releasing his grip
around the teen's wrists and shushing him affectionately. He deftly flips them
around so that he's lying on his back with Stiles sprawled atop him, tucking
his mate's face into his neck so that the teen can breathe in his scent as he
strokes his hands up and down his sweat-slick back.
Stiles sniffles and hiccups one last time before going quiet, calmed by Derek's
gentle caresses. He breathes open-mouthed against the alpha's neck, flicking
his tongue out to lick across his dry lips and catching the tip of it on the
tanned skin of his mate. He savours the salty taste. They lie like that until
Derek's knot begins to go down.
Right as his softening cock slips free, Derek slides out from beneath Stiles'
body and keeps him on his knees, the teen's ass still raised in the air. Before
any of his come can leak out from his mate's wrecked hole, he picks up the
second item he'd retrieved from the bathroom at the start of it all and slicks
it quickly with lube before positioning it at Stiles' loose entrance. Pushing
it forward gently, he's satisfied when it slides in smoothly, aided by both the
lube and all of the come still buried deep inside. When the base of the plug
sits flush against Stiles' cheeks, he sits back to admire how the blackness of
it looks against the pale skin before easing the teen over onto his side.
"When the hell did you buy that...?" Stiles asks tiredly, sighing when Derek
brings the sheets up to his waist.
"I've had it for a few weeks," Derek admits, a blush forming on his face as his
more dominant side begins to recede. As much as he goes all in when Stiles
works him up, when it's all over, he slips right back into his more timid
mindset. It's a little annoying, but his mate has assured him in the past that
it's highly endearing. "I was just waiting for the right opportunity to present
itself so I could use it. This just seemed like a good time... Wait here, OK?
I'm gonna go get us some water." With one last tender brush of his thumb across
Stiles' cheekbone, he saunters downstairs and gets a glass out of the cupboard
in the kitchen. He downs three glasses of the cool liquid himself before
filling it a fourth time and bringing it back to the bedroom. "Here."
Stiles sits up with Derek's help, the alpha keeping a hand on his shoulder to
support him as he reaches out for the glass with shaky arms. He groans quietly
when the water hits his throat, which feels a little raw from all of the noises
Derek had pulled out of him earlier. The action jostles the plug in his ass a
little bit, and his breath hitches when it rubs up against his over-sensitive
prostate. He thinks he covers it well enough, though, and when he hands the
glass back to Derek, he allows himself to slump back into the pillows. His eyes
close of their own volition when he feels the alpha's fingers stroking through
his hair.
"Sleep, love," Derek whispers, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside Stiles.
"I'll wake you up later so we can have a bite to eat, OK?" A small smile
appears in his face as he watches his mate slip off into unconsciousness, well
and truly worn out.
***** Snow *****
Like Derek promised, Stiles is woken from his nap a little while later when the
bed shifts and the smell of food invades his nostrils. He frowns as he opens
his eyes, looking off to the side and finding Derek sat on edge of the mattress
with a tray on his lap. Pushing himself up, he winces when his ass twinges, a
reminder of the pummelling it had taken a short while ago. He doesn't mind it,
though, finding that it's not bad enough to really be a problem. It's more of a
pleasant ache. Rubbing at his eyes, he lowers his hands and returns his gaze to
his mate, his brain having now caught up enough that he can actually register
what it is he's seeing. Derek looks to have been busy while he was asleep,
since the amount of food on the tray is a little staggering. He assumes that
most of it is for the man himself, theorising that it's not just him that
worked up quite the appetite with their earlier lovemaking. "How long was I
out?" he asks, moving off to the side slightly when Derek makes to sit next to
him against the pillows, the sheets ending up pooled around their waists. The
alpha subsequently places the tray across both of their laps.
"A little over an hour," Derek answers quietly, switching on the bedside lamp
when he notices that the sun has begun its descent, leaving the room to grow
gradually darker in its absence. He glances sideways and frowns when he notices
that the bruising on Stiles' neck and chest has grown quite a bit darker in the
time he was out of the room. He can't help thinking now that he may have gone a
little overboard, even if his wolf disagrees. "How are you feeling?"
Stiles looks up from the piece of toast he's munching on and meets Derek's
concerned gaze, looking at himself when the man flicks is eyes pointedly down
at his chest. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he takes in the state
of his body. He's surprised since he still feels alright, though he wonders how
he's supposed to go to school on Monday looking like he's been mauled. "I'm
fine, Sourwolf," he assures, taking another bite of his toast and smiling
around the mouthful. He bumps their shoulders together when he sees that Derek
still looks unsure. "Seriously, if I didn't like what you were doing, I
would've told you, so stop worrying." It's still a little strange to him that
Derek seems to switch so completely between two different mindsets in and out
of sex, almost like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
His worry abated, Derek settles back into the pillows again and digs into his
dinner, a comfortable silence falling over the room as they eat. He's pleased
that Stiles appears to approve of his cooking, but he wouldn't put it past the
teen to just be too hungry in that moment to care what it is he's shoving in
his mouth.
When he's stuffed himself with as much food as his stomach can bear, Stiles
pushes the tray sideways so that it rests solely on Derek's lap before
shuffling sideways off of the bed. His gait is affected slightly by the plug
still buried inside of his ass, but he manages to head through to the bathroom
without toppling over or letting out a sound when his steps cause the plastic
to brush up against his still over-sensitive prostate. Under the stark lighting
of the bathroom, the marks on his chest and neck stand out even more against
the paleness of his skin, and his runs a finger over a couple of the more
severe bruises to see if they hurt at all. A sigh of relief escapes him when he
finds they're more tender than outright painful, but he'll still have to kick
Derek in the shin or something for attacking so much of his neck. The marks
will be incredibly difficult to mask unless he wants to take a cue from Isaac
and wear a scarf to school, which...no. He doesn't think he can pull that off
the way the beta seems able to.
Deciding not to worry about it until tomorrow, he shuffles back through to the
bedroom and finds that Derek has set the tray down on the floor and is now
resting back against the pillows with a book open in his lap. "How long am I
supposed to keep this thing in?" he asks casually, reluctantly retaking a seat
next to the alpha, careful not to make any sudden movements that'll disturb the
plug in his ass.
Putting his bookmark in the middle of the page he's currently on, Derek shuts
the book and sets it on his nightstand. "Is it really that bad?" he asks,
helping Stiles fit between his legs, the teen's back pressed against his chest.
The worry that has clouded his features fades away again when Stiles sighs and
shakes his head where it's positioned beneath his chin. He tucks his nose into
his mate's hair as he feels his face heat up at what he's about to say. "Well,
you don't have to keep it in at all if it annoys you or gets too uncomfortable,
but I admit it is quite nice knowing that I'm still inside of you in a sense."
His voice is dripping with embarrassment, since it's still difficult for him to
admit the things he wants or likes outside of the heat and passion of their
lovemaking. He keeps trying, though, knowing that Stiles is right whenever he
says that communication is key if they want to maintain their healthy
relationship.
Stiles reaches up and pats Derek's cheek blindly a couple of times before
snuggling back into the alpha's warmth. He makes a quiet noise of contentment
when Derek's arms wrap more securely around his torso, one of his hands rubbing
back and forth across his stomach soothingly. He thinks he can definitely fall
asleep like that, he's so relaxed. "You and your wolfy instincts..." he
mumbles, closing his tired eyes. "You're lucky I either find them adorable or
super hot, you know."
"I know I'm lucky," Derek responds, talking about more than just Stiles'
acceptance of all of his little kinks and idiosyncrasies. He knows the teen
knows what he means, as well.
"I love you, too, Sourwolf," Stiles whispers, the sound of Derek's breathing
and the rising and falling of the man's chest doing a very good job of lulling
him back to sleep. "Thanks for today; it means a lot to me that you tried, even
if you didn't get there completely, you possessive little alpha wolf, you."
                                     * * *
- Sunday, August 19th, 2012 -
The following morning, while Derek is off downstairs, Stiles lies in bed and
sends off a text to Lydia, asking her to come over to the house as soon as
possible before the rest of the pack has a chance to arrive. He ends up having
to plead with the girl for a while, since she protests having to leave her own
house at such an early hour. Eventually, though, he locks his phone again and
smiles to himself after succeeding, Lydia promising that she'll be there within
half an hour. Her one stipulation was that there had better be a delicious
breakfast waiting for her when she arrives. Reluctantly, he leaves the warmth
of the bed and rushes to get ready for the girl, not bothering with a shirt and
instead zipping his hoodie nearly all of the way up to cover most of the
bruising Derek's overzealousness has caused.
When he gets downstairs, Stiles looks around the ground floor and frowns when
he doesn't find Derek anywhere. After opening the door that leads down into the
basement, he pauses when grunting noises reach his ears, guessing that the
alpha must be getting in an early-morning workout.
Leaving the man to it and backtracking to the kitchen, Stiles makes a start at
preparing an extravagant breakfast for Lydia. He can't produce anything too
amazing given the time constraints, but he figures he'll be able to make do.
The front door opens just as he's putting the finishing touches on the food,
signalling the banshee's arrival. He carries the plate through to the living
room and sets it down on the coffee table before walking into the foyer to
greet her.
Lydia freezes when she looks up from her purse, her eyes immediately landing on
the marks on Stiles' neck. "Well, now I know why you wanted me to bring this,"
she drawls, a smirk slipping onto her lips as she pulls out the makeup she has
buried in her bag.
"You think this is bad..." Stiles responds, rolling his eyes as he lowers his
hoodie's zipper a few inches and pulls the material to the side to reveal the
expanse of his chest. His mouth curls into a wry smile when Lydia's eyes widen
even more. "Apparently, this is what I get for letting Charlie hug me
yesterday. Derek's such a goofball, I swear..." He leads the way through to the
living room and sits down, pleased when Lydia nods approvingly at her breakfast
before beginning to eat. "Anyway, I was wondering if this can be covered up;
I'd rather not have to deal with all the staring and taunting I'm likely to get
from everyone later, especially at school tomorrow."
"Well," Lydia begins, resting her plate on her lap and holding the bottle of
foundation she'd brought with her up to Stiles' neck, "I'm not too sure this'll
really work for you since your skin tone is a little different than mine, but
we can give it a try. If it turns out it looks stupid, then I'll get another
bottle later and stop by before school tomorrow so you can use it, OK?"
When all of the food is gone, Lydia drags Stiles off to one of the bathrooms
and sits him down on the toilet seat, instructing him to take off his hoodie so
she can acceptably cover every inch of marked skin. She pauses for a couple of
seconds to admire the boy's torso, thinking that if she'd known when she and
Jackson were broken up and Stiles was still pursuing her that he was hiding
that body beneath all of those layers, she might've actually been tempted to
accept his many advances. She only snaps out of her staring when Stiles waves a
hand in front of her face a couple of times to reclaim her attention,
apologising before squirting a bit of the liquid foundation out onto the back
of her hand to begin working. She snorts knowingly when she sees the wince of
discomfort that flashes across Stiles' face as he takes a seat on the closed
toilet, knowing very well what caused it. After pulling her usual foundation
brush from the depths of her bag as well, she dabs it in the stuff and blends
it into the bruised skin of Stiles' neck. "Does it hurt?" she asks worriedly a
short while later when she notices the occasional grimace flittering across the
boy's features.
"What? Oh, no, not really," Stiles hastens to assure, allowing Lydia to
continue. "It's a tiny bit sore, but if it keeps Derek happy then I don't mind
it too much. Plus, it feels super good during, so..." He chuckles when the girl
hums and nods her agreement.
"You're a good mate..." Lydia mutters eventually, knowing that she wouldn't be
able to handle behaviour that possessive from Jackson. She guesses it must just
be Derek's fear of losing people he loves rearing its ugly head again. Just
like she thought might happen, when she finishes covering every inch of marred
skin, she frowns when she sees that there's a noticeable change in tone where
the foundation ends. "Unless you want to walk around with an entire face of
this stuff tomorrow, I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait for me to get another
bottle because that looks kind of stupid." She pulls Stiles up and turns him to
face the mirror so he can see what she's talking about.
Stiles groans when he sees what he looks like. The foundation is clearly a
shade or two darker than his skin tone, meaning that he has to at least let the
pack see him in this condition later should they come over. He doesn't see a
reason why they wouldn't, the invasive and clingy bastards. Lydia holds out a
packet of makeup wipes, which he dutifully takes and uses to scrub the
foundation from his chest and neck again. He lets up on his vigorousness when
he sees that his already-marked skin is turned red with his rough treatment,
causing the subtle ache to become more noticeable. When he's done, he shrugs
his hoodie back on and zips it up to his chin, pouting as he thinks of all the
jokes he's likely to be the butt of for the remainder of the day. He hopes
he'll be able to threaten his way out of it all, since that usually seems to
work, no matter if the betas know he's only bluffing every time.
"Well, that was a waste of good makeup," Lydia muses as she examines the
foundation bottle, frowning when she sees the amount within is considerably
lesser than before because it had taken so much to cover the bruising
completely. After cleaning her brush, she stuffs both items back in her bag and
makes a note on her phone to stop by the drugstore on her way home later. She's
not wasting money on the expensive stuff she usually uses. Stiles won't know
the difference anyway, she excuses. "OK, out! I need to pee." She points a
finger at the door to get the boy to leave the room.
"Thanks anyway," Stiles mumbles as he leaves, making his way back downstairs
and cleaning up the mess he'd made fixing Lydia's breakfast. Halfway through,
he hears shuffled footsteps behind him and glances over his shoulder, smiling
at Derek when he sees that the man has finished his workout, sweat still
dripping from his body. "Hey, Sourwolf."
Derek takes a bottle of water from the fridge and downs it in one go, wiping
the back of his hand over his mouth when he's done to rid himself of the excess
liquid that escaped the seal of his lips around the bottle's neck. He sniffs
the air when he's done, finding an unusually potent scent of makeup in the
room. He moves closer to its source, confusion breaking out on his face when he
finds that the scent is coming from Stiles. It's unusual, his preternatural
senses telling him that what he's smelling is usually only found around Lydia.
"Why do you smell like makeup?" he asks finally, unable to come to a reasonable
conclusion on his own. His bafflement only increases when Stiles drops one of
the dishes back into the warm, soapy water in the sink, accidentally splashing
himself.
Quickly patting down the wetness on his hoodie with a dish towel, Stiles drapes
it over his shoulder in case any more unexpected questions cause him to lose
his grip. "I got Lydia over here to see if she could help me cover all of the
hickies you gave me yesterday," he explains quietly, holding his head high as
he works to make it seem like he's not embarrassed. "It didn't work, though.
I'm too pale."
When all he gets is silence in return, Stiles looks off to the side again and
rolls his eyes when he sees that Derek is just frowning at him, unimpressed,
his arms crossed over his chest. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll leave a
couple of them alone, but there's no way I'm going to school tomorrow looking
like I just went ten rounds in the ring and lost..." he offers, smiling and
shaking his head fondly when his words seem to cause Derek's body to relax, the
alpha's arms dropping back down to his sides as a sigh of relief escapes his
mouth. "You're lucky you're adorable." He reaches out and ruffles the man's
sweat-damp hair before finishing up the last couple of dishes still soaking in
the sink. "Also, you need to go shower and change before I jump you again,
because I don't think my ass is up for another round just yet. Plus, Lydia's
still here, so... Off you go." He shoos Derek out of the room after drying his
hands, thinking that he really needs to get started on completing his own
homework later that day. He had planned on doing it the previous evening,
but...he didn't get to it for obvious reasons. Stupid Derek, he thinks, sighing
before going to find his school bag.
                                     * * *
After washing the sweat from his body, Derek exits his and Stiles' bedroom,
pulling a black Henley over his head as he goes. As soon as he can see again,
he jumps when he comes face-to-face with Lydia. The girl stands leaning against
the wall, looking at him with a devious smile on her lips that causes
trepidation to build in his gut. Smoothing down the hem of his shirt so that
his stomach is no longer exposed, he narrows his eyes suspiciously at her.
Their little staring contest goes on for a few more seconds before he finally
decides to break the silence. "What are you doing?" he asks her, surprised that
she was able to sneak up and surprise him. He clearly wasn't paying close
enough attention to his surroundings. He shouldn't really have to, given that
it's his property and no one ever comes out there but pack members, but still,
it unnerves him whenever someone gets the drop on him. Snapping himself out of
his thoughts, he refocuses his attention on Lydia and watches cautiously as the
girl's hand moves to her skirt, almost as if he expects her to fling a fistful
of wolfsbane at him or something. He doesn't think it's possible to be too
careful around the unpredictable banshee, though.
Slipping her phone from her skirt pocket, Lydia shakes it in Derek's direction
before answering. "I got a text a couple of minutes ago about something that
concerns Stiles, and by extension, you," she begins, smile never leaving her
lips. In fact, it widens when she sees the apprehension get more apparent on
the alpha's face. She walks forward and curls a hand around Derek's bicep,
leading him toward the stairs. "So, you're going to be coming with me to take
care of it. Get your shoes on and don't forget your wallet, because you'll be
needing it." Not waiting around to see if Derek actually does as she says,
Lydia marches straight out through the front door, leaving it open behind
herself and hopping into her car to wait for the wolf.
Derek is left standing in the foyer, staring after Lydia, perplexed. He wonders
what horrors the girl is going to put him through if he actually decides to go
with her. Shaking his head, he listens attentively for Stiles and heads in the
direction of the backyard when he hears noise coming from there. When he gets
outside, he finds his mate kneeling down next to the vegetable patch, pulling
up carrots.
When he hears the back door open, Stiles glances up and smiles at Derek when he
sees the alpha walking toward him. His mate's hair is still damp from the
shower, but he thinks the man looks particularly delicious in his dark clothes,
his shirt clinging to the muscles of his torso. "Hey, what's up?" he greets,
continuing with his work. As he fills the bucket positioned on the ground next
to himself, he thinks he probably planted a few too many carrots and he wonders
how he's going to get the pack to eat all of them before they go off. Perhaps
some sort of stew would be a good way to go, though he'll have to make sure
there's an unreasonable amount of meat in the thing as well so the wolves don't
complain.
"Lydia's dragging me God knows where, so I'm probably going to be gone for a
while," Derek explains, crossing his arms over his chest and lamenting
melodramatically to himself about how difficult his life is. "Are you going to
be OK here for a little bit?"
Nodding, Stiles gets to his feet and winces when the action stretches his
aching thigh muscles, his legs protesting the movement since they've been bent
in the same position for so long. "Yeah, of course I'll be fine," he responds,
pulling off his gloves and tossing them carelessly atop the carrots in the
bucket still at his feet. He steps closer and presses a chaste kiss to Derek's
lips, smiling when the alpha tries to follow after he pulls away. "You'd better
not keep Lydia waiting. You know what'll happen if you do. Need I remind you of
what happened the last time somewhere dared to do just that." His smile shifts
into something a little more evil when Derek's face pales, the man in the
process of recalling what he's talking about.
Derek bids a hasty farewell to Stiles before practically running back into the
house and through the front door on the other side. He remembers the particular
pack night to which his mate was referring, when Jackson had been late getting
back from the grocery store. Stiles had sent him out to get the special
ingredients Lydia insisted she needed for her dinner that evening. The beta's
lateness had caused the rest of the food to go cold, since the girl wouldn't
let Stiles serve everybody else until hers was ready as well. Jackson's penance
for his little infraction was being made to strip completely naked and run laps
around the house for half an hour. Erica had insisted the curtains be kept open
in the dining room so that she could laugh at his humiliation during the
entirety of the meal. Derek really doesn't want to be inflicted with the same
punishment, so he's relieved when he sees that Lydia doesn't appear to be too
ticked off when he finally slides into the passenger seat of her car. He
doesn't think Stiles would let the girl do something like that to him, but he'd
rather not risk it.
When Lydia starts the car without speaking and begins driving, she notices out
of the corner of her eye that Derek keeps glancing nervously over at her. She
grins back at him, giggling when the man swallows tightly. "Relax, Derek; I'm
not gonna make you do anything terrible," she assures after a few more seconds
of letting him work himself up.
"Where are we even going?" Derek asks, resting his elbow on the car door and
leaning his head in his hand tiredly. He thinks it's still too early in the
morning for this shit. He stares out of the window and watches as Lydia takes
them further into town, to a street he doesn't remember ever seeing before. He
probably has been there in the past, he reasons, but either his memory is
absolutely terrible or the street has changed a lot since then. He decides to
go with the second option to maintain his sanity. His confusion only increases
when Lydia just tells him to wait and see as she parks them in front of a party
supply store. He wonders what possible reason the girl could have for taking
him there, since he doesn't think there are any holidays or birthdays coming up
soon. Stiles would've told him if there were, since the teen is usually better
at keeping on top of things like that than he is. "What the hell are we going
here...?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Lydia dismisses, waiting for a car to pass
before opening her door and exiting the vehicle. She waits impatiently on the
pavement for Derek to join her. A thought strikes her, and she stares
speculatively at the alpha when he joins her, the two of them walking together
toward the front of the store. She'll have to kick his ass if what she just
thought actually turns out to be true. She smirks to herself and thinks that
her timing is really impeccable, the closed sign on the store's entrance being
turned around to read 'Open' right as they walk the final few steps.
Derek is left walking behind Lydia, looking around the place, completely lost.
He frowns to himself when he overhears the girl talking to one of the shop
assistants, explaining that she'd received a text earlier that morning which
said her order was finally ready to be collected. He wracks his brain again and
tries to think of what possible reason she could have for buying party
supplies, but again he comes up with nothing. It's only when the shop assistant
returns with several bags of stuff and he sees what's peaking out of the top
that it hits him. He doesn't actually know his own mate's birthday, and he
guesses from the various Marvel and DC decorations in the bags that it must be
soon. Guilt builds in his gut and he feels like a terrible person for never
thinking to ask anybody before now. He prays dearly that he's misreading
things, but when Lydia tells him to fork over the money for it all, he knows
his prayers are pointless. He wonders how it was he could claim to love Stiles
without knowing something as simple as when on the calendar the boy's birthday
falls.
"I take it from the look on your face that you didn't know Stiles' birthday is
this Saturday?" Lydia asks somewhat testily as they exit the store a few
minutes later, Derek carrying all of the bags since they're actually pretty
heavy. She sighs when Derek nods slowly. "You're the worst mate and alpha
ever..."
After popping the boot so Derek can put everything inside, hidden from prying
eyes, Lydia relents with her glaring when she sees that self-loathing
expression on the alpha's face. She bites at her bottom lip, figuring that the
man will probably berate himself enough without her adding to it. Taking pity
on him, she reaches over and pats him on the shoulder a couple of times before
turning her keys in the ignition and heading back to the house to drop him off.
"I'm sure it'll all be OK, Derek," she assures, breaking the man out of his
thoughts. "I'm sure Stiles wouldn't mind too much, and I can see that you
already blame yourself enough for the both of us, so I won't tell him anyway.
You know now, so as long as you get Stiles an absolutely kick-ass gift, I won't
have to tell him about your little oversight and he'll be none the wiser."
Derek stays quiet as he thinks, wondering what he could possibly get his mate
that would measure up to Lydia's standards. He hopes that the perfect idea will
come to him at some point during the week, since nothing really stands out to
him during the drive. When the house comes into view, he puts it out of his
mind for the time being when he sees that several other vehicles have appeared
outside while he and Lydia have been gone. It looks like most of the pack will
be spending the day there again.
When he sees Lydia climb out of her car, Jackson gets up from where he'd been
lounging on the porch swing, jumping down the front steps to greet her. He pays
no attention to Derek when the alpha walks past them. "So, are you gonna tell
me what you two were up to or do I have to wait and see?" he asks, following
her around to the back of her car when she gestures for him to do so. His
eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when she opens the trunk and shows him the
crazy amount of bags stored within. At first, he thinks that Lydia has simply
gone on another shopping spree again and he dreads having to take back all of
the clothes she changes her mind about—he really wishes he had a strong enough
backbone to stand up to her every once in a while—but a closer inspection calms
his worries. "What the hell is all of this crap?" He pulls down the edge of one
of the bags and snorts derisively when he sees what spills out.
"Hey!" Lydia exclaims, slapping Jackson's hand away and making a quick job of
putting everything back where it should be. "Don't mess any of this up! This
'crap' is for Stiles' party, you idiot." Her voice is hushed, almost like she
suspects that the boy in question is lurking around somewhere, in danger of
overhearing. She knows she's being ridiculous, Derek's disappearance telling
her that Stiles isn't anywhere close by, and she thinks with amusement that the
man is seriously whipped.
"Whatever..." Jackson responds, feigning disinterest. He waits patiently while
Lydia gets all of her things together before following the girl into the house,
the sound of what he assumes to be Scott's bike getting closer in the distance.
Lydia sits herself right in the middle of one of the sofas in the living room,
listening to the sounds of bickering coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Leaning slightly to the side, she can just get a glimpse through the doorway,
revealing Erica and Isaac arguing over who gets the last Oreo cookie. She
laughs softly to herself when she sees Derek come out of nowhere and swipe the
cookie before either of the betas can get their hands on it, stuffing it in his
mouth and walking away toward to the back door as if nothing happened. Erica
and Isaac stare after the alpha, both of them looking betrayed. Lydia decides
not to say anything when the blonde wolf stomps through to the living room and
throws herself moodily into the seat next to her, her arms crossed and a deep
scowl on her face.
The front door bursts open a few seconds later, Scott barrelling into the house
afterward and getting smacked in the face by the rebounding wood. He rubs at
his face and winces as he waits for his freshly broken nose to heal, holding a
hand over it to stop any blood from running down onto his clothes.
Allison appears quickly beside Scott and guides him through to the kitchen,
sitting him down on one of the stools around the island and dabbing at the
blood on his face with a handful of wet paper towels. "You should really be
more careful..." she laughs, wondering how it is that a werewolf can possibly
be so clumsy. She guesses that not even lycanthropy was enough to rid her
boyfriend of his carelessness. When the last of the blood is cleaned from
Scott's face, she balls up the paper towels and moves to put them in the
dustbin on the other side of the room. As she turns around, Derek comes into
the room carrying a couple of buckets full of various vegetables, which he
subsequently dumps on the countertop. When the alpha steps away a couple of
paces and brushes his hands off on his jeans, she moves closer and peers at
everything he brought through. "What's all this?"
"You're looking at everyone's dinner for the next couple of weeks or so," Derek
explains, frowning down at his hands when he sees that there's still quite a
bit of dirt on his palms, making all the lines in the skin stand out more than
usual. He makes use of the sink and nods to himself when all traces of dirt are
washed away by the warm water and soap. "Stiles went a little overboard with
the planting, so I guess the menu'll look pretty vegetarian for a while."
Almost as if he heard his name being spoken, Stiles chooses that moment to join
Derek, Scott and Allison in the kitchen, carrying his own couple of buckets
with him.
Scott's eyes widen when he takes in the state of his friend's neck, his mind
going straight to the worst case scenario and making him think that the other
boy has been attacked or something. He's about to rush up from his seat and
check Stiles over before he notices the teeth marks and the particularly smug
expression on Derek's face, clueing him in to the true origin of all of the
bruises. He scrunches up his nose in disgust and shakes his head rapidly to try
and clear out all of the mental images that have begun to form there.
His throat feeling dry, Jackson enters the kitchen and sidesteps around Derek
on his way to the fridge. He looks over all of the different beverages stored
in the shelves on the inside of the door before selecting some grape juice, in
the mood for something sweet. When he closes the fridge again, he finds himself
face-to-face with Stiles. He leaps back from the other boy immediately, not
wanting to be seen willingly standing so close to him. "What the hell happened
to you?" he asks when his eyes fall down to Stiles' neck, a mocking smirk on
his lips. "You finally piss off the wrong person? 'Cause I've been saying for a
while now that it was only a matter of time before someone decided to knock you
down a peg or two." He quickly shuts himself up when he hears a reproving growl
coming from behind, and he looks slowly over his shoulder and ducks his head
when he's met with red eyes.
"If you must know, Derek got a little carried away last night while he was
pounding me into the mattress," Stiles proclaims, getting immense pleasure out
of watching Jackson's face quickly turn green. "I don't mind though; it was
some of the best sex we've ever had. Now, since you decided to be a rude little
puppy, you won't be getting any of the cookies I'll be baking for the pack
later on today." Smiling proudly, he grabs Derek by the bicep and drags the
alpha from the room, leaving both Jackson and Scott to their retching.
"Was that really necessary?" Derek whispers harshly when he finally finds his
voice again. He allows himself to be pulled back up the stairs, wondering why
Stiles is taking the both of them up there when the pack is down on the ground
floor. "Where are we going?"
Stiles closes their bedroom door and begins stripping off his clothes, making
sure to leave them in a neat pile in the corner so he can deal with them later.
"I don't know about you, but I got a lot of joy from seeing the horrified
expression on Jackson's face, so to answer your first question, yes, it was
necessary," he explains, unzipping his chinos and holding them up once he's
stepped out of them. He rubs over a couple of the dirt and grass stains and
frowns, thinking that it'll be pretty difficult to get them out again whenever
he washes them next. Shrugging, he drops them on top of the rest of his
clothes. "And to answer your other question, doing that gardening got me all
sweaty and covered in dirt, so I was planning on taking a shower." He runs his
eyes down the length of Derek's body before raising a suggestive eyebrow in the
alpha's direction. "I know you've already taken one today, but you look pretty
dirty again, too, so...you can join me if you want?"
With that, Stiles slips off into the bathroom and kicks the door most of the
way closed. He quickly slips out of his underwear and throws them through the
small gap, smirking when the action gets the growl he was hoping it would. The
door crashes open right as he's reaching up to turn the shower on, and he
laughs happily when Derek immediately crowds him into the stall, clothes still
on. "Mmm, that's what I'm talking about..." he breathes after pulling away from
the alpha's demanding lips.
Reaching down, Stiles gets a tight grip on the hem of Derek's Henley and rips
the offending material off of the alpha's body, immediately connecting their
mouths again as the soaked shirt lands in the sink with a wet slap. Clinking
metal signals that his mate is hastily unbuckling his belt, the man kicking his
jeans backward once they hit the shower's basin, toppling over the rim and
falling to the bathroom floor. He gasps into Derek's mouth when their hips meet
again and he feels the hot length of the alpha's cock rubbing insistently
against his hip. The fabric of Derek's boxer-briefs feels rough on his own
still-sensitive cock, reminding him again of the previous night's activities.
He doesn't know whether he actually has another orgasm in him already, but that
doesn't stop his cock from valiantly trying to harden once more.
Pushing Stiles backward until his back connects with the cold tile of the wall,
Derek drinks up the shocked gasp the sudden change in temperature causes the
teen to release into his mouth. He wedges his hand between Stiles and the wall
and cups his mate's ass, his palm squeezing the smooth globes and his index
finger pressing teasingly against the base of the plug still buried deep
inside.
Stiles whines when Derek grabs a hold of the plug and begins drawing it out,
his tender hole stretching around the widest part and clenching around nothing
when it slips past.
Derek fucks Stiles with the plug slowly, never pulling it out fully until he
feels the teen's hole get used to the stretch, the push and pull of the wide
plastic becoming easier. He growls when he feels warmth suddenly drip down onto
his fingers, his come beginning to leak out around the plug. Stepping back a
little, he turns Stiles quickly with one arm and finally tosses the black
plastic aside, not caring where it lands. Instead, he shoves two of his fingers
knuckle-deep inside the wet heat of his mate's hole, the constant growling in
his chest kicking up a couple of notches as he feels his way around, whiteness
dripping down to his wrist and trailing down his arm the entire time. "You're
so greedy for me, aren't you, Stiles?" he rasps into the teen's ear, biting on
the lobe. "So loose and sloppy and desperate to be filled up again, just like a
bitch in heat..." Allowing his claws to come forth on his free hand, he shreds
his underwear so they fall uselessly to the floor, his aching cock springing
forth from the fabric, finally unrestrained.
There's something so deliciously naughty about being with Derek like this while
the rest of the pack is right downstairs. Stiles can't help the needy noises
that spill from his mouth when the alpha's fingers graze his swollen prostate.
The dirty words his mate spews just add to it all, and he pushes back on the
man's fingers willingly, seeking more. "Please..." he whimpers, his eyes
clenching shut.
"Please what?" Derek responds darkly, his eyes bleeding red and his fangs
threatening to make an appearance. "Please fuck you? You want that? You want my
cock so deep inside you, want me to pump another load in your slutty ass until
you're ripe and round with my come? You want me to breed you full of my pups?
Is that what you want?" He grinds his cock against Stiles' ass as he speaks,
his own restraint breaking piece by piece with every word. "Tell me..."
"God, yes... Please! Need you in me..." Stiles begs, gasping, still rocking
back on Derek's fingers. He lets out a disappointed little whine when the thick
fingers suddenly disappear, but he's stopped from protesting properly when he
feels something blunt and much larger at his entrance.
With one brutal snap of his hips, Derek sheathes himself fully inside of
Stiles' ass, the teen crying out at the sudden intrusion. He pauses for a few
seconds to make sure his mate is alright before pulling his hips back and
starting up a fast pace. He's too worked up by his own words and ideas to make
it anything other than rough, but Stiles doesn't seem to mind. He keeps his
hands on the teen's hips with an iron grip, holding him in place as he fucks
his sloppy ass. He can feel his own come from the previous night leaking out
around his cock, sticking in his pubic hair and running down his balls and
thighs. The sensation is so unbelievably hot that it drives him to go even
harder, his hips jackrabbiting as he chases his own pleasure.
Stiles can do nothing but dig his nails into the wall and hold on as Derek's
cock fills him up again and again. The alpha moves so quickly that his ass
doesn't have time to clench back up before being stuffed full again. He's
unable to close his mouth, his breath coming in fast pants between helpless
mewls and whimpers. His cock has hardened fully under Derek's unrelenting
assault, and he shakily takes one of his hands off of the wall and wraps his
fingers around the aching length. He doesn't even have to do anything; Derek's
thrusts pump his own hips forward into his hand, their skin slapping together
audibly until it echoes around the shower stall. The alpha grunts in tandem
with his thrusts into the sweat-damp skin at the back of his neck, the
occasional sting of fang sparking the pleasure up even more. His orgasm creeps
up on him, and his cock spurts one feeble string of come against the wall when
it hits. He shudders through it, dropping his hand when the direct stimulation
gets to be too much.
The tightening of Stiles' ass around his cock is what causes Derek's knot to
blossom into being, swelling up amazingly fast until one last, forceful thrust
pops it past the abused ring of muscle. He bites down on the bare skin of
Stiles' shoulder as he begins to pump another hot load inside of his mate's
ass, each thick jet mixing with the first load from last night.
Reaching down with his hand, Derek rubs his palm across Stiles' stomach, lost
for words when he thinks he can actually detect the faintest bulge there. The
sensation taps into something animalistic and primal in his head, his wolf
howling with joy at the idea of impregnating their mate with their pups.
Rationally, he knows there's no actual possibility of that ever happening, but
it's nice to lose himself in the fantasy, if only for a minute. His balls
tighten up as his orgasm just keeps going, his hips working in tiny circles to
bury his knot deeper in the tight channel and Stiles' stomach swelling further
with all of the come locked inside. Eventually, when his orgasm tapers off to
the occasional twitching of his cock, he pulls his mouth off of his mate's
shoulder and licks over the small bite marks left in the wake of his fangs,
tiny pinpricks of blood welling up.
Derek feels Stiles slump back against him and gently wraps his mate up in his
arms, carefully lowering them down to the bottom of the shower so that the teen
is sat in his lap, back to chest. He turns them slightly so that he's leaning
back against the wall, his hands fitting around the gentle curve of Stiles'
stomach as they wait for his knot to go down. Now that the heat of the moment
has passed, he feels a little self-conscious about letting his mouth run away
with him like that.
"I can hear you thinking, Sourwolf..." Stiles mumbles, still a little out of it
from his intense orgasm. He turns his head sideways until his nose is pressed
against the short, rough hairs on Derek's cheek. "Stop worrying. That was hot
as fuck... Anything goes between you and I, so don't worry about that little
breeding kink you've got goin' on... I kinda loved it, too."
His face heating up, Derek continues to run his tongue along the small wound on
Stiles' shoulder. He laps up the blood and cleans it as the hot water runs over
their bodies, cleaning all other traces of their lovemaking from their skin.
"Damn..." Stiles says breathlessly, wiggling in place a little bit. "I don't
think I've ever felt this full before. It's kinda weird. A good weird, though."
He winces and looks down at his cock sadly when his movements cause Derek's
knot to press against his prostate again, the soft flesh twitching slightly
from the stimulation. "I guess what I said earlier about my ass not being up
for another round was wrong, though I think my dick's definitely gonna be out
of commission for a while..." He pauses when Derek makes a noncommittal noise
into his shoulder. "You should consider doing that whole dirty-talk thing a lot
more often. 'S great."
                                     * * *
- Thursday, August 23rd, 2012 -
The following Thursday, Stiles is driving home from school, silently fuming and
wishing he could get away with murdering his Chemistry teacher. He and Charlie
had managed to finish their project the previous day, just in the nick of time,
and he'd been quite proud of the job they'd done. In fact, he'd been pretty
confident that they might actually be able to secure an 'A', even with the
teacher's rampant dislike of him. Those hopes had quickly been extinguished
when Ms. Adler had interrupted them halfway through their presentation and told
them to retake their seats without allowing them to finish. She didn't even
give an explanation as to why she was cutting their presentation short and had
just saddled them with an 'F' before moving onto the next pair of students in
the class. He'd actually been tempted to go and complain about the woman to
someone higher up, hoping to at the very least get her in some degree of
trouble, but after remembering that Scott has already been down that road
before with no success, he decided against it.
Stiles had resigned himself to the fact that he'll most likely be failing
Chemistry that year when the idea hit him that he might be able to convince
Lydia to do something about it. He didn't let Charlie in on the plan that
quickly formed in his head, choosing instead to just go straight to the banshee
and ask about it. At first, Lydia had seemed unwilling to get involved, but
after he'd told her about everything that had happened earlier that day, she'd
come around. She ended up choosing to follow her own plan, though, which she
wouldn't let him in on. She'd told him to just sit back and enjoy it before
dragging Erica off with her.
Out of nowhere, a strange banging comes from beneath the hood of Stiles' Jeep,
bringing him out of his thoughts. He almost jumps out of his skin when, as he's
pulling the vehicle over to the side of the road in order to inspect the noise,
there's suddenly a huge bang, followed by smoke billowing out from the engine.
Panicking, Stiles slams his foot down on the breaks, swerving off to the side
so that the Jeep doesn't end up stranded in the middle of the road. He sits in
the driver's seat for a full minute, just looking at the damage through the
front windshield. When another car races along the road and passes him without
even slowing down, he shakes himself out of his reverie and gets out to check
what has gone wrong. Waving a hand in front of his face to keep the smoke from
invading his lungs, he lifts up the hood of the Jeep and stands back for a few
seconds as the majority of the smoke is blown away by the wind. Now that he's
actually able to see, he looks over the engine with a frown, fiddling with a
couple of things before coming to the conclusion that whatever is wrong with
the car is something he's unable to fix by himself. "Fucking fantastic..." he
mutters, releasing a long breath.
Stiles slides his phone from his pocket, hitting the first speed dial and
waiting until he hears Derek's voice on the other end of the line. He's quick
to explain the problem, keeping the call short. It ends with the alpha
promising to be there within the next half hour, for which Stiles is incredibly
grateful. While he waits, he gets back inside the Jeep to escape the chill that
has crept up on him from nowhere. He wraps his arms around his torso and goes
to turn on the heating before realising that he obviously can't at that moment.
He grinds his teeth together in annoyance, huddling down in his seat and
pulling his legs up. He's just able to fit his hoodie over his knees.
Just as he's wondering where the sudden cold has come from, Stiles sees
headlights appear behind him. He cranes his head around to look over his
shoulder, squinting through the brightness and smiling in relief when he's able
to make out the familiar black lines of the Camaro coming to a stop a short
distance away.
Derek pulls up the parking brake and exits his car, immediately jogging over to
meet Stiles next to his Jeep. The first thing he notices is that the teen
appears to be shivering noticeably, and when he pays attention, he finds that
the evening air does have an unusual chill to it that wasn't present even an
hour before. Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he flings it over Stiles'
shoulders and tucks the collar in close, hoping that the residual heat from his
body and its higher-than-normal temperature will help warm his mate up while he
checks over the Jeep.
While Derek works, Stiles stands off to the side and draws the alpha's jacket
even closer around his shaking body. He tucks his nose into the collar and
sighs contentedly when his senses are immediately filled with the comforting
scent of his mate. That's one of the main reasons he likes to borrow Derek's
leather jacket whenever the man will allow it, because it means he can still
feel close to his mate even when they're off doing their own things.
Annoyingly, it's not too often that he can get away with taking it with him to
school or wherever else, though that doesn't stop him from trying. He's lost
count of the number of times Derek has caught him right as he's trying to slink
out of the front door unnoticed, the alpha yanking him back into the house and
staring him into submission. He's reluctantly given the jacket back every time,
still not really understanding why his mate doesn't seem to trust him to take
care of it. Perhaps it has something to do with the pack being around and that
they tend to be clumsy and even more careless than usual without Derek there to
keep watch over them, or Scott, if he's singling people out.
When he gets a good look at the engine of Stiles' Jeep, Derek wonders how it
was that the vehicle even ran for as long as it did. It doesn't surprise him
that it gave up the ghost now, given the state of it. Granted, he doesn't know
much about cars in general—the only one he's knowledgeable about is his own
Camaro because it's so dear to him—but even he can see that the probability of
Stiles' Jeep getting fixed to the point where it runs again is almost slim to
none.
Slamming the hood of the Jeep closed again, Derek is about to wipe the grease
on his hands off on the hem of his shirt when Stiles appears out of nowhere,
holding out an old rag from the backseat. "Thanks," he accepts, watching as the
teen throws the now-soiled rag back into the Jeep through the open window.
"So what's the verdict?" Stiles asks nervously, his eyes flicking back and
forth between Derek and his Jeep. He prays for good news, since he's had the
thing for years and it means a lot to him. Plus, he doesn't exactly have the
means to get another car if the Jeep does kick the bucket now. He'll end up
having to steal lifts from Derek and the rest of the pack until he can think up
some way to make enough money to afford a new one, though 'new' is probably
pushing it a bit. He knows the most likely outcome is that he'll be purchasing
a secondhand vehicle, the first one he comes across that looks like it won't
die as soon as he drives it out of the dealership. He knows all of that will no
doubt come to pass fairly soon when he looks up and sees the sympathetic
expression on Derek's face.
"It's not looking good, Stiles," Derek says gently, wincing when his mate's
face crumples immediately at his words. He wishes he could deliver better news.
"I can't say for sure since I'm not an expert or anything, but I'd say there's
not much chance of the Jeep coming out of this thing alive." He pulls out his
phone and begins dialling the number for the local mechanic's so they can come
pick Stiles' vehicle up. "I'm gonna get someone out here to get it and
hopefully they'll be able to fix whatever's wrong with it, OK?" When the teen
nods his assent, he hits the call button and waits for someone to answer.
Soon enough, Derek is driving behind the tow truck with Stiles sitting
dispiritedly in the passenger seat, the teen staring out of the window as he
fills the car with the scent of sadness and worry. Stiles remains quiet the
entire time they're sat waiting for the on-call mechanic to finish his
inspection, sequestered away in a room that has nothing within it but several
rickety-looking chairs and a small table piled high with magazines and
newspapers that are years old. He watches his mate rock back and forth on his
chair, keeping an eye out in case the teen ends up accidentally going too far
and falling backward on his ass. He wouldn't put it past Stiles. When the
room's sole door opens again, he gets to his feet and is instantly able to read
the expression on the mechanic's face, telling him that his earlier findings
had been correct and that the Jeep is well and truly dead.
The mechanic is a burly man, somewhere in his mid-forties with balding hair and
three-day stubble. He wears a wife-beater that looks like it's seen better
days, the white fabric covered in grease and fast food stains, and his gloves
look so old that they could fall apart at any given moment. His overalls are
tied off at his waist, his name just visible on the side of his hip, reading
'Chad'.
"There was nothin' I could do, I'm afraid," Chad says, looking thoroughly bored
even though he's giving bad news. There's not a single hint of empathy on his
shiny face. "The only thing you can really do now is scrap it for parts, and
even then you wouldn't get that much for them since it's not really a popular
model."
Quickly taking the reigns of the conversation when it looks like Stiles might
burst into tears at any moment, Derek gestures to the door to get Chad to
follow him back out into the workshop. "How much are we talking here?" he asks
once the door is shut, thinking it's for the best that his mate isn't around to
overhear them discussing dismantling his 'baby'. He's not expecting to hear a
very large number; factoring out what the other man said earlier, even he can
see the Jeep is looking worse for wear anyway. He wouldn't pay anything for
them himself, but he still manages to be disappointed when Chad responds with
the offer of just under six-hundred dollars. "We'll have to think about it;
would it be possible to keep it here until we come to a decision?"
After getting a 'yes', Derek thanks the other man and returns to Stiles' side,
pleased to see that the teen appears to be holding himself together. He
understands the feeling of upset that his mate is currently experiencing,
because even though he basically detested the Jeep—he wouldn't have dared
actually say those words to Stiles—he knows he would feel similar if it were
his Camaro in its place.
"We should just scrap it," Stiles begins immediately after Derek reenters the
room, wanting to just put the idea out there and stop dwelling on it any
longer. "As tempted as I am to tell him 'no' and just keep it for memory's
sake, I know there wouldn't be a point in that; it would just be sat outside of
the house day after day, doing nothing and rusting away. It's better to take
what little we can get for it now and move on." He looks forlornly out of the
room's little window, only just able to make out the familiar blue paint of his
beloved car.
"If you're sure," Derek soothes, wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders and
bringing him into a hug. It doesn't escape him that his shirt feels
suspiciously wet when the teen pulls away again, but he doesn't mention it.
Instead, he goes off to hammer out all of the details with the mechanic while
Stiles goes and says goodbye to his Jeep one last time. When Derek returns, he
finds his mate running a hand over to smooth surface of the hood. He himself
carries a stack of bills in his hand, which he promptly hands over to the teen
with a tentative smile. "You ready to go?" With an arm around Stiles' waist, he
guides Stiles back out into the cold, the pair of them pausing when the first
thing they're greeted with is a small layer of white on the ground. Staring up
at the sky, Derek watches as small flakes of snow fall from the dense clouds,
getting steadily larger and more frequent. "What the hell...? It's not even
September yet."
Stiles holds out his palm and stares in wonder as a flake lands on his skin and
melts. "This is so weird... It never snows here," he mutters, fascinated. "I
wonder how long it'll go on for." He can't help but wish for it to cover the
whole town, turning that Friday into a snow day and extending the weekend into
a three-day affair. It would make for an interesting birthday gift.
"No idea..." Derek responds, snapping out of his daze when a snowflake lands on
his nose, startling him with its coldness. "C'mon, let's get you home."
During the drive, an idea strikes Derek that seems so perfect he doesn't know
why he didn't think of it immediately. Ever since Lydia informed him of Stiles'
birthday the previous Sunday, he's been struggling to come up with any sort of
present he could get his mate that would be suitable. Now that Stiles is in
need of a fresh set of wheels, he begins formulating a plan. He'll have to make
a trip to the local dealership while Stiles is at school the following day to
try and find something that the teen will like.
"Ugh, what a day..." Stiles moans loudly as soon as he clears the threshold of
their house and kicks off his shoes by the front door. He doesn't wait for
Derek and just flops himself down on the sofa in a depressed heap, pulling the
money the alpha had handed to him earlier out from the pocket of the man's
leather jacket when he finds it creates an uncomfortable lump. He places it
carelessly on the coffee table and doesn't care that it slides sideways, a
couple of bills floating to the floor. Throwing an arm over his face, he
doesn't look up when he feels Derek lift his legs and place them down on his
lap again, the man rubbing a calloused thumb in small circles around his right
ankle. "Thanks for coming to pick me up..." His voice is muffled by his arm,
but he knows Derek understood him when the alpha's hand squeezes his leg once.
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Derek asks carefully,
resting his head on the back of the sofa and staring down at Stiles with
worried eyes. He doesn't like that he can still smell the sadness and angst
coming from the teen in waves.
Stiles sighs before removing his arm and meeting Derek's eyes. "Could you get
me the leftover cookies I made on Sunday?" he asks, pouting. He sits up and
swings his legs off of the alpha's lap and stretches them out in front of
himself, his body still slumped down so that his shoulders touch the back of
the sofa and his ass is in danger of slipping off of the cushion. He rubs his
toes absentmindedly on the underside of the coffee table. "I feel like eating
all of my pain away with food that has absolutely no nutritional value."
"I thought the betas ate all of those?" Derek remarks as he makes to stand,
planning on making himself a snack as well while he's in the kitchen.
"I hid a few specially for a time like this before they could get their hands
on them..." Stiles confesses quietly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Derek
before reaching over to the arm of the sofa and swiping the television remote
up in his hand. "They should be in the back of the pantry, on the bottom
shelf."
After some hunting around, Derek finally finds the aforementioned cookies.
They're hidden in a tinfoil-wrapped Tupperware container, some spare bottles
and jars of ketchup and mayonnaise positioned purposefully in front of them. He
thinks as he pulls it out that he can't fault Stiles' ingenuity, the teen
obviously going the extra mile to make sure no other wolves caught the scent
and went looking where they shouldn't. It doesn't escape his notice when he
opens the lid to check whether he's actually grabbed the right thing that his
mate has managed to save several white chocolate chip cookies, both of their
favourites. Guessing that there's enough in the container to satiated both of
their appetites for the time being, he shrugs to himself and forgoes fixing
himself the snack he intended to. He carries the cookies back through to the
living room with two carefully balanced glasses of milk on top.
"You're a lifesaver!" Stiles chirps when he sees Derek coming back into the
room, waiting until his mate has reclaimed his usual seat at the end of the
sofa before twisting himself sideways and resting his head in the alpha's lap.
Derek has just started nibbling on his first cookie when he gets a glimpse of
the television, at the frame Stiles has deliberately paused the screen on. He
groans loudly and glares down at the teen when he starts laughing at his pain.
He'd been hoping that his mate had forgotten about the threat he made some
months ago, but apparently that's not the case as he finds himself staring up
at the seven-lettered word on the screen.
"You didn't think I'd forgotten that I said I was going to make you watch all
of this, did you?" Stiles cackles, almost choking when a chocolate chip gets
temporarily lodged in his throat. He clears it with a sip of milk, his laughter
picking right back up afterward. Without waiting for Derek to reply, he hits
play on the remote and wiggles slightly in place to get himself more
comfortable, the alpha's right thigh moving to fit snugly at the back of his
neck. "I still stand by my earlier hypothesis that you'll really like Friends
if you let yourself get invested in the characters..." When Derek just
harrumphs in response, he glances up at the man and pats him consolingly on the
knee, preparing himself to marathon at least three episodes to start off with.
He's resolute in his earlier decision that he'll be getting Derek to watch
every single season; it's just up to the alpha how quickly they get through
them. If it takes months, then so be it.
***** Celebration *****
- Friday, August 24th, 2012 -
The next day, Stiles wakes up to a flurry of texts coming in on his phone.
Groaning, he rolls over and reaches blindly over to his nightstand, almost
knocking the empty glass stood there to the floor before he actually finds the
device. Rubbing at his eyes, he sits up and looks at the time, cursing whoever
has disturbed his sleep when he finds he still has a few minutes left before he
has to get up for school. Planning on replying to them with a scathing message,
he opens the texts and finds they're from Scott, pausing in surprise when he
reads the other boy's excited words. Looking up, he notices for the first time
the unusual glow coming from the other side of the curtains. Rushing to get out
of bed, he drops his phone down on the mattress and hurries over to the window,
flinging the curtains back and staring with wonder at the thick blanket of
white that covers the entire surrounding area. He's not surprised that the
school is keeping its doors closed that day, given the sheer amount of it.
Guess I got my wish, he muses, looking up at the sky and finding that flakes of
snow are still falling from the clouds.
When a chill runs through his body, Stiles finally turns away from the
spectacular view and slips into his warmest clothes, choosing to put one of
Derek's sweaters over it all. That done, he grabs his phone again and exits the
bedroom, leaving Derek to sleep for a little while longer as he makes his way
downstairs. His first stop is to the thermostat on the wall just inside the
living room. He adjusts it up a few degrees to compensate for the snow outside
before switching on the coffee pot in the kitchen, knowing the smell of it will
probably rouse his mate.
His phone chirping incessantly again, Stiles looks down at the screen and isn't
surprised at all when he sees messages from most of the pack, telling him that
they'll be converging on the house in a matter of minutes. He didn't expect
anything less.
After downing his first mug of coffee of the day and noticing that Derek still
hasn't appeared, Stiles grabs a second one and carries it back upstairs. He
gets a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest when he sees how the alpha is
sprawled out across the whole mattress, his limbs akimbo and his hair sticking
up in every direction. Carefully taking a seat next to Derek's hip, he holds
the mug out near his mate's face and wafts the steam toward his nose. He knows
it's working when he sees the man's nostrils flare before his eyes blink open
tiredly. Leaning back again when Derek pushes himself up to sitting, he
willingly hands the coffee over to the alpha when he holds out his hand,
responding to his thanks with a bright, "You're welcome."
"What's got you up so early?" Derek asks when he lowers the mug from his lips
and glances over at the clock on the nightstand. He drags himself backward a
little bit until he rests more comfortably against the pillows, the mug held
carefully in his lap so that it doesn't accidentally spill and stain the
sheets.
"Dude, look out the window," Stiles replies happily, watching as Derek slips
out of bed to do just that. He nods along knowingly when the man swears in
shock, thinking that he can just about make out the white tops of the trees
from his position still on the bed. Getting up as well, he walks up behind
Derek and tucks his face into the back of his neck, his arms wrapping around
and crossing over the alpha's stomach. He sighs when he feels Derek's free hand
come up to cover his, the man leaning back slightly into his embrace. "Scott
texted me earlier and woke me up. Apparently, the school is closed today
because of all this."
Tearing his gaze away from the sky, Derek hums his understanding and looks down
at Stiles' arms, frowning in confusion when he recognises what the teen is
wearing. "Is that my sweater?" he enquires offhandedly, plucking at the thick
material with his fingers. He turns around and holds Stiles out at arms length,
getting a good look at him. As always, seeing the teen wearing his clothes does
funny things to his heart.
"I was cold and your sweaters are more snuggly than mine," Stiles mumbles,
looking down and off to the side, his face heating up. He blinks when he feels
Derek place a small kiss to his forehead.
Derek steps around Stiles and downs the rest of his coffee in one gulp, leaving
the mug on top of the dresser as he searches for something weather-appropriate
to wear himself. He soon finds that his mate must have chosen the most warm-
looking sweater, since all he finds are his newer, less well-worn garments.
Shrugging and guessing that it doesn't really matter given the fact that he
doesn't feel the cold as much as Stiles, he digs right down to the bottom of
the drawer to his winter clothes, thinking how strange it is that he needs them
again already. Putting on a simple grey tank top first, he selects a deep
purple Henley to go over it before completing the look with a simple pair of
grey sweatpants. Turning around, he holds his arms out at his sides and raises
a questioning eyebrow at Stiles when he sees the teen watching him closely.
"Well?" he asks, his voice amused as he waits for his mate to stop gawking. The
fact that Stiles can't seem to close his mouth is quite gratifying.
The question snapping him out of his daze, Stiles rolls his eyes and shrugs off
any embarrassment that tries to creep up on him. "Very nice," he purrs, tilting
his head to the side. He particularly likes that Derek's bare feet peak out
from the ends of his sweats; the sight is strangely erotic. "I don't know why
you bother asking; you know you could be wearing a trash bag and still look
like a GQ model. It's so unfair..."
Accepting Stiles' compliment with an overdramatic bow, Derek picks up his empty
mug and drags the teen downstairs. As they walk, he thinks back to his earlier
plan of stopping by the nearest car dealership later that day, praying that the
place will still be doing business. He decides that he'll look up their number
later when his mate is off somewhere else and call to see if they're still
open. If not, he'll have to be late giving Stiles his present, and he really
doesn't want that to happen. He wants to get the teen alone when he gives it to
him, to see his face—hopefully—light up with joy. It'll also mean that he and
the rest of the pack won't have to drive Stiles around for the foreseeable
future, not that he would mind doing it at all.
Halfway through their breakfast, Derek looks up from his food when the doorbell
rings suddenly. He frowns, having not heard any approaching engines or
footsteps beforehand. Rising from his stool around the kitchen island, he
leaves Stiles where he is and makes his way to the front door, looking through
the peephole before raising his hand to open it. His bafflement increases when
he can't see anything on the other side. Gabbing the handle, he turns it and
throws the door open wide, his body tensed like he's expecting to be attacked
at any second. When nothing happens, he takes a couple of steps outside and
looks around carefully, thinking that the snow looks even more impressive from
down on the ground. Still, he doesn't see anyone in the area, and he shrugs to
himself before making to go back inside. Before he can shut the door behind
himself, he hears someone yell, "Snowball fight!" before a compacted ball of
white powder hits him square in the face.
Stiles dashes through the hall when he hears Derek let out an unmanly squeal,
wondering what on earth could have possibly happened to get the man to unleash
a sound so uncharacteristic of himself. When he reaches the front door, he
glimpses Derek's back as the alpha storms outside and off into the snow,
heedless of his bare feet.
As soon as Derek descends the last of the front steps and gets down onto the
snow-covered grass, every beta suddenly appears out of nowhere and he finds
himself bombarded with an impossible amount of snowballs. He feels a brief
sense of pride about the fact that what he's teaching his pack is obviously
working, but it doesn't last long as he brushes the snow from his hair and
shoulders and glares at them all. He snarls at Erica when the blonde raises her
hand again, another snowball held within it. "Don't you dare..." he growls
deeply, trying to stop the smile that wants to slip onto his lips from doing
so.
Erica grins devilishly and throws the snowball as hard and fast as she can.
It's still not quick enough to stop Derek from being able to dodge it, since he
knew that this particular attack was coming ahead of time.
Having finished putting on his shoes, Stiles has just stepped down onto the
ground when he sees Derek leap off to the side. He doesn't have time to guess
why, because the next thing he knows, something smacks him right on the nose
and sends him stumbling backward. His arms pinwheel ludicrously for a second
before he begins to fall. He's saved when Isaac appears at his side, the beta
hastily grabbing his hand and pulling him back up again. "Thanks..." Stiles
breathes loudly, wiping the melting snow from his face. He looks up and sees
Erica watching him guiltily, but that doesn't stop him from narrowing his eyes
at the girl. "You're gonna get it now." He turns back to Isaac, finding Danny
and Derek stood a short distance behind the tall beta. "You three are on my
team. Let's get 'em!"
With that, it's chaos and all-out war as the remaining pack members split off
to form second and third teams, each one ending up with a camp of sorts. The
game turns into something akin to dodgeball, where if one person gets hit by a
snowball, they're out.
Of course, the humans don't really last that long. Lydia is the first one to
go, being nailed in the back by Cora. Allison quickly retaliates and takes the
youngest Hale out as well, but while she's distracted celebrating her victory,
another snowball hits her on the shoulder, thrown by Boyd. While Erica and Boyd
high-five each other, she storms off up the front steps and joins Lydia and
Cora, leaning against the railing of the wrap-around porch to watch the rest of
the game. Stiles—the last human player—ends up doing surprisingly well, though
that's really only because Derek and Isaac constantly drag him out of harm's
way when he can't move quick enough himself. In the end, it comes down to
Derek, Stiles and Isaac on one team, and Erica, Boyd and Jackson on the other.
Scott and Kira were both defeated in a two-part attack pulled off by Derek and
Danny, though the Hawaiian ended up getting too cocky. He was caught up in some
good-natured gloating and didn't see Jackson sneak up behind him.
Everyone else watches on bated breath from the porch as the six remaining
players stare each other down, just waiting to see who will be the first to
make a move.
All at once, like there was some signal no one else could see, Derek, Stiles
and Isaac burst into movement. Derek takes point with Isaac just behind him,
since they're both wolves and can take the brunt of the opposing team's attack.
Stiles remains at the back and tries to pick off the other three one by one. It
takes some careful aiming, but eventually, he's able to just graze Erica's hip
with a snowball, effectively bringing an end to her reign of terror.
The blonde stays down on the snow instead of joining the other defeated pack
members on the porch, standing just off to the side of the combat. She yells
encouragements at Boyd and Jackson and hurls insults at Derek, Stiles and
Isaac. This quickly becomes a sort of tactic, seeing how much she can rile up
the other team until they make a mistake. It's not too long before Isaac gets
distracted by her obscenities, allowing Jackson's impeccable aim to take him
out. The curly-haired beta slinks off to join his boyfriend, his body beginning
to shiver a little with all the melted snow in his clothes now that he's not
caught up in the heat of battle. Erica doubts that she can have the same effect
on Derek or Stiles, so she settles for just bolstering her teammates up
instead.
While Boyd is focusing on avoiding the series of snowballs flung at him by
Stiles, Derek is finally able to get the drop on him, grinning wide and proud
when he hits his target. The quiet beta takes a pouting Erica with him and
joins the others to watch the match's conclusion.
Jackson, at a severe disadvantage now that it's two against one, flicks his
eyes between Derek and Stiles apprehensively. He hopes he can at least take one
of them out before being bested himself. He growls lowly when he catches sight
of Stiles smirking at him, obviously pleased with how things have played out.
He's tempted to flip the other boy the bird, but he refrains, wanting to stay
alert.
Heart racing, Stiles walks a little bit to his left, putting Derek between
Jackson and himself so that the beta can't see what he's doing. Bending down,
he scoops up a considerable amount of snow, shaping it into a ball with his
hands. He feels a deep sense of exhilaration from being one of the last people
left in the game, having never been in this position before. Ordinarily, he'd
be one of the first few eliminated, and he knows he has both Derek and Isaac to
thank for the most part for the sudden turning of the tables. Feeling playful,
he channels his fire into the palm holding the snowball until it begins to melt
a little, hoping that he'll be able to land the shot and give Jackson a nice,
wet surprise. Looking back up, he sees Derek's head turning incrementally, the
alpha listening closely to his movements. Parting his lips just so, he whispers
a quiet, "Duck," before taking aim and throwing as hard as he can in the
direction he remembers Jackson was standing.
His attention now focused on Derek, Jackson is taken aback when the alpha
suddenly crouches low to the ground. He wonders what possible reason the man
could have for doing that when he spies something white flying toward him.
Diving to his left to get out of the way, he tucks himself into a roll and
springs back to his feet with his hands full of snow, ready to retaliate.
"Damn!" Stiles yells, disappointed that his plan failed. That emotion quickly
turns into confusion when Derek comes barrelling his way, the alpha's arms
wrapping around his body as he's tackled to the ground. He thinks that there's
some friendly fire going on as they roll a couple of times. They come to a stop
with him on his back and Derek lying atop him, and when the alpha gets off of
him and turns around, he sees all of the snow stuck to the back of his Henley.
Apparently, his mate was just saving him from Jackson's assault, at the cost of
himself. Trust the man to be so selfless even when it's in a snowball fight. He
shakes his head as he stumbles to his feet, his shoulder aching a bit because
of how awkwardly he'd landed on it. When his mind catches up to the situation,
he realises that it's just him and Jackson left, and the odds are definitely in
the beta's favour with his werewolf reflexes. That asshole, he grumbles
internally, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek moves off to the
side to watch the proceedings.
"Ready to forfeit?" Jackson taunts, both of his hands raised to show off the
snowballs he's holding. "There's no way you can beat me by yourself, Stilinski,
so I would seriously consider it."
"In your dreams," Stiles fires back, the stuttering of his heart belying his
show of confidence. While the two of them are caught in another standoff, the
rest of the pack begins showing their support, and he's surprised to find that
everyone seems to be on his side, even Lydia and Danny. Not wanting to let any
of them down, he tries to come up with a tactic that could circumvent Jackson's
superior agility.
Making the first move, Jackson flings both of the snowballs in his hands at
Stiles, only just missing when the other boy drops to the ground to avoid them.
Growling again, he crouches down himself to gather some more snow and makes to
stand straight again, ready for another attempt. He doesn't quite get that far,
though, because as he looks up to take aim, he's struck right in the centre of
his forehead, the snow bursting apart from the impact and showering down around
him. He stands there for a few seconds, too shocked to move even as a series of
uproarious cheers reach his ears from the rest of the pack as they all race
down the steps to congratulate Stiles on his victory. He slowly uncurls his
hands and allows the now-useless snowballs to fall back to the earth before
trudging gloomily into the house, upset and annoyed with himself because he let
the human beat him.
Stiles finds his lungs protesting as he's pulled into the centre of a group
hug. "OK, guys, I really appreciate this, but I'd appreciate being able to
breathe even more!" he gasps out, almost falling over when everybody steps back
all at once. He breathes deeply. "That's better."
Now that the snowball fight is over, Stiles realises just how cold it is and
begins shivering. "How about we move this inside, huh?" he asks, leading the
way with Derek right behind him. He heads straight upstairs, looking to change
out of the clothes he's currently wearing and slip into something warm. Once
that's done, he lays the wet clothes on the radiator to dry, turning around and
finding that Derek has done the same. "Come on; I need another cup of coffee
and some cuddles to warm me up again completely." He chuckles when the alpha
rolls his eyes and sighs as if his words pain him.
While everyone else is raiding the kitchen for snacks, Scott, Derek and Stiles
are sat in the living room, the human teen flicking through the channels on the
television. He's on the hunt for something that looks at least mildly
interesting.
Scott glances out of the window and notices for the first time that something
appears to be missing outside. He doesn't know how he didn't realise it before,
since it seems so obvious now. "Hey, Stiles? Where's your Jeep?" he asks,
frowning. It seems incredibly odd that it's not parked out there, right next to
Derek's Camaro like it usually is. "Are you having work done on it or
something?"
"It died yesterday," Stiles replies as casually as he can, not really enjoying
the reminder. "I sold it to the mechanic's for parts." He waves off Scott's
condolences, shaking his head when everyone else chooses that moment to come
through from the kitchen, each of them repeating his best friend's words of
sympathy. "Guys, seriously, it's fine. It was pretty old anyway, so it's not
like I wasn't expecting it to happen at some point. Now, can we just sit here
and relax with some mindless TV, or is that asking too much?" He raises a
commanding eyebrow at all of the betas and is pleased when they all acquiesce,
shutting up immediately. Leaning back into Derek's warmth, he rests the remote
on his knee and begins sipping the coffee he made a few minutes ago.
                                     * * *
An hour later, after everyone has settled in the living room and wound down—and
after he's able to pry himself from his mate's clingy arms—Derek sneaks off
upstairs into his and Stiles' bedroom and pulls out his phone, looking up the
number for the closest car dealership. He asks the man on the other end of the
line whether they're still open for business and, after getting a 'yes' in
return, he hangs up and turns around, planning on making some lame excuse to
get himself out of the house for a while so he can go and browse the
dealership's selection. When he comes face-to-face with Lydia once again, he
recoils in shock before huffing. "You've got to stop doing that; it's
incredibly annoying," he grouses, attempted to step around the banshee. He
should've known that it wouldn't be that easy.
"I heard all of that, you know," Lydia comments quietly, holding her arm out to
stop Derek from being able to get around her before she's done with him. "So,
you're planning on getting Stiles a new car for his birthday, hmm? I've got to
say, I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd come up with something that good."
"Yeah, well...I do have good ideas every now and then, you know," Derek points
out, cautiously moving forward when Lydia finally drops her arm. He hears the
girl following him as he makes his way back downstairs. When he returns to the
living room, he shakes his head at Stiles when his mate pats the cushion next
to him invitingly, smiling kindly when the teen pouts up at him. "Sorry, but I
need to head out for a bit. I'll be back in an hour or two, OK?" Not giving
anyone a chance to respond and ask him where he's going, he power-walks to the
front door and hurries through it, suppressing an annoyed growl when he senses
that Lydia is still following him. When they get outside, he narrows his eyes
at her. "What?"
Lydia levels Derek with a reproving glare, ushering him down the front steps
and toward the Camaro. "You didn't honestly think I was going to leave the
selection of Stiles' new car all up to you, did you?" she asks condescendingly,
opening the passenger door and sliding into the seat without waiting for Derek
to actually say she can come with him.
After pausing for a minute to calm himself down, Derek climbs in behind the
wheel and sets off for the dealership, ignoring all of the little tips and
pointers that Lydia keeps giving him for the entirety of the drive. He glances
over to his right and sees that the girl has her phone out, and he just gets a
glimpse of a car on the small screen before turning his eyes back to the road.
He didn't think it was like her to be that knowledgeable about cars, and
apparently he was right. It doesn't take them too long to arrive, and they're
immediately greeted by one of the employees when they park and get out. He's a
little startled by the other man's enthusiasm when he introduces himself as
Dave and holds out his hand, but he supposes it's par for the course in that
line of work, since they get paid on commission and he would obviously be
looking to make a sale.
Luckily for him, Derek plans on buying. "I think we're just going to browse, if
that's OK," he dismisses after a couple of minutes of Dave talking his ear off.
He's incredibly grateful when the other man promptly leaves him and Lydia
alone.
"So, did you come into this with any ideas or are you just gonna wing it?"
Lydia asks as they walk around all of the cars. She turns her nose up at most
of the vehicles in the 'Used' section, but she allows Derek to continue looking
through all of them because she knows that Stiles wouldn't mind and the car is
for him, after all, not her.
"I'm winging it," Derek replies succinctly, getting more and more confused the
further they walk. Although they've been mated for a while now and have known
each other for over a year and a half, he's not too knowledgeable when it comes
to Stiles' taste in automobiles. He guesses his best bet is to go for something
he finds ugly himself, since the teen seemed to love his Jeep and he couldn't
stand the thing. It's just as he's thinking this that he comes across a vehicle
that looks almost identical to the one his mate just lost. He promptly pretends
he didn't see it, thinking that he won't be going that far. Plus, he's not too
sure how Stiles would react if he got him a direct replacement. The next thing
to consider is the colour. He doesn't even know what his mate's favourite
colour is, and he tries to suppress the feeling of shame building in his gut
and decides to just go with blue again. It's right at this point that he
catches sight of a sign hanging behind the window of the dealership's main
building, where all of the newest cars are kept. It has the Chevrolet logo on
it, and he supposes it can't hurt to look at what's there considering Stiles
has also expressed love for his black Camaro.
Stepping inside and out of the cold, Derek holds the door open for Lydia before
heading straight over to the area he spotted from outside, immediately knowing
that he made the right choice. Stood right in front of him is a car he knows is
perfect. Not even the astronomical price on the sign hung behind the windshield
is enough to change his mind.
Derek looks around the room and spies Dave on the other side, signalling to him
that he's ready when their eyes meet. The other man promptly jogs over and
begins running off a list of all of the car's pros, eager to cement the sale.
Derek holds up a hand to halt him. "I don't need to hear your sales pitch. I've
already decided; I'm buying this one," he interjects, refraining from rolling
his eyes when he sees the shocked expression on Dave's face quickly turn into
one of glee.
"Oh, excellent! If you'll just step this way, we can hammer out all of the
details and you can drive your new car right out of here!" Dave promises,
gesturing to one of the offices in the back of the building with a sweeping
motion of his arm.
Before Derek knows it, his bank account is considerably emptier and a new set
of keys is being handed over following a grateful handshake. He tosses Lydia
the keys to his own car, instructing her to follow him so they can still drive
back to the house after he puts Stiles' new car in a safe place until the next
day. As he gets behind the wheel, he can't resist running his hands reverently
across the dashboard and steering wheel, hoping and praying that his mate will
love it, too. He wonders where a good place to stash it would be as they get
out onto the main road, and an idea hits him right as he's about to pass
Stiles' old street. He makes a quick turn, checking the rear-view mirror to
make sure Lydia has kept up with him, and promptly pulls into the Stilinskis'
old driveway. He's glad now that Stiles hasn't had the heart to put the place
on the market yet. After locking the new Camaro, he turns and finds his own
waiting for him a few feet down the street, with Lydia now sat in the passenger
seat.
"That's quite a lot of money you spent," Lydia points out as soon as Derek
pulls away and begins the drive back home. "Like, an excessive amount. I'm
surprised you chose to pay it all at once instead of going for the whole
monthly-instalments thing."
"Well, I can afford it and to me, Stiles is worth it, so why wouldn't I?" Derek
responds, huffing moodily when Lydia coos at him and calls him a 'great big
softie'. When they finally get back to the house, he pauses before going
inside, sniffing himself and frowning when he finds he can just about detect a
trace of the new car in his clothes. He guesses he'll have to preempt
everybody's questions as soon as he goes in so that no one spoils the surprise
for Stiles. Just like he thought, every beta in the living room turns their
head in his direction as soon as he sits back down next to his mate, their
noses raised in curiosity. "Not a word." He flashes his eyes red to get them to
follow his order, slumping down in relief when they all shrug to themselves and
go back to watching television.
After Stiles has curled himself around Derek so that he's practically sitting
in the man's lap, he peers up at his mate's face, confused. "So, are you
actually going to tell me where you rushed off to so suddenly or is it some big
secret?" he enquires, nuzzling into Derek's cheek in hopes of softening him up.
"Nope. It's a surprise," Derek smirks, quickly holding a hand over Stiles'
mouth when it looks like the teen is about to protest. He keeps it there even
when he feels a tongue lick wetly across his palm, only withdrawing it again
when he finally gets a reluctant nod. "Seriously, just be patient. You'll find
out tomorrow. That's not too long to wait, right?"
"I suppose not," Stiles accepts slowly, snuggling back into Derek's side as
endless ideas begin running through his head. He was already looking forward to
the next day, but now that he's seen how pleased with himself Derek appears to
be, he's even more impatient than ever. He muses that he probably won't be
getting any sleep later that night, his excitement is so great.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, August 25th, 2012 -
Stiles ends up finally falling asleep sometime around two in the morning, the
feeling of Derek's breath on the back of his neck getting the best of him. When
he wakes up, he finds himself alone in bed, which is unusual. Derek is very
rarely awake before him, and even if he is, the alpha will usually stay in bed
until he's awake as well. Turning over, he fumbles for his phone on the
nightstand and turns it on to find a series of texts from every member of the
pack, even Jackson, each one wishing him a happy birthday. Lydia's informs him
that they'll all be by the house a bit later to celebrate. Just as he's
contemplating whether to get out of bed or not, the bedroom door opens and
Derek steps through, dressed in nothing but a tight pair of boxer-briefs. That
sight would make for a very good morning on its own, but the tray of food in
the alpha's hands just makes everything that much better. "What's all this?" he
asks as the tray is placed across his lap.
Everything is laid out neatly, with waffles, bacon, eggs, toast and pancakes
taking up most of the room. Two glasses of orange juice sit on the sides,
completing the meal. Stiles waits for Derek to join him on the bed before
reaching out a hand for a piece of strawberry jam-covered toast.
"Well, it's your birthday today, and it's been unanimously decided by the pack
that you won't be lifting a single finger for the entirety of it," Derek
announces proudly, puffing out his chest and picking up a fork. He spears a
piece of bacon on the end of it and shoves it in his mouth whole. He moans
quietly to himself as the flavour bursts across his tongue, thinking that it
was definitely a good idea to get Isaac over earlier to help him with all of
the food. Since the beta helps Stiles with the cooking a lot of the time, he
was able to offer some good tips and tricks to make everything as delicious as
his mate usually does.
"That's so sweet, I think I'm gonna cry," Stiles chuckles, brushing off how
touched he really feels with humour. He wonders about what the pack could have
planned for the day, feeling the intense thrill of anticipation run through him
because this is the first birthday he's had since they all came together where
nothing is threatening to kill them all. He quickly shuts down that train of
through before it can lead anywhere, not wanting to jinx them all. When he sees
Derek finish chewing his bacon and swallow it, he leans over and presses a
passionate kiss to the alpha's lips, wanting to show his gratitude. They're
both left breathless when he pulls away again. "Thanks for this, Sourwolf; I
really appreciate it."
Derek has to look away from Stiles' eyes after a few seconds, the tips of his
ears turning pink because of the sheer amount of affection he saw burning in
the cinnamon-coloured depths. "You're welcome," he mumbles bashfully, picking
up another strip of bacon and biting on it slowly so he doesn't have to
embarrass himself by talking anymore.
A little while later, after Stiles and Derek have finally gotten out of bed and
slipped into clothes, Stiles is sat at the kitchen island, watching as his mate
prepares some coffee for him. "You weren't kidding when you said I wouldn't be
lifting a finger today, were you?" he comments as Derek hands him a mug filled
with the delicious brown liquid. As much as he was looking forward to this day,
now that it's here, he can't help feeling a little weird about it. He realises
that it's not only the first birthday he's spending with the pack all together,
but it's also the first birthday he's had where his dad isn't around. The fact
that the day isn't starting out with presents as soon as he gets up is also
another reminder. The thoughts make him a little sad, but he does his best not
to show it. Even though he knows Derek probably wouldn't mind and would
understand, he doesn't want to ruin the alpha's happy mood. Instead, he tries
to put it out of his mind and draws on his mate's emotions to make himself feel
better as well. He's happy that it works.
"Is there a plan for today or is it a relax-at-home sort of deal?" Stiles asks
eventually, after they've moved over into the living room. Derek is lying on
his back beneath him and he's sprawled out atop him, his head resting on the
alpha's strong chest.
The television is currently on with the volume low, so quiet that Stiles can't
actually hear what's being said on screen. Derek had switched it on before
getting comfortable, flicking the channel over to the local news. The current
story seems to be about the snow that's only just beginning to melt outside,
the news anchor calling it an 'anomaly' and the weatherman unable to explain
it.
Derek looks down at Stiles and snorts at the expectant expression on the teen's
face. "Well, I'm taking you out for lunch later, and then as far as I know,
we're all just going to be hanging around here for the rest of the day," Derek
explains, hoping that he made his lie sound convincing. He mentally pats
himself on the back when Stiles nods his approval and lays his head back down
again, nuzzling into his chest and sighing in contentment. He quickly loses
track of time after that, and before he knows it, it's approaching midday. He
panics a little bit because the pack are supposed to arrive shortly to begin
setting up Stiles' surprise party, but he doesn't let the emotion show on his
face. "You hungry yet? Because I could definitely go for some lunch now."
Stiles is a little confused at the sudden question, pushing himself up and
glancing down at Derek's stomach almost as if he expects it to make a noise to
prove the alpha's point. He shrugs to himself when it doesn't and nods simply.
Luckily for Derek, he manages to get the both of them out of the house before
anyone else arrives, and as he's driving them through town looking for
somewhere to eat, he notices Lydia's car race past in the other direction.
Glancing sideways, he's pleased to see that Stiles appears none the wiser. "So,
where do you feel like eating? It's your day, after all, so it only seems right
that you'd choose," he pipes up after about a minute has passed, praying that
the rest of the pack will be alright setting everything up. Hopefully, Lydia
will have the good sense not to let Scott or anyone else that clumsy help,
because he wouldn't put it past the clueless beta to accidentally burn the
house down lighting the candles on the cake or something. Returning home to
find it up in flames isn't an experience he ever wants to repeat.
"Mmm...let me think," Stiles mumbles, holding his hand to his chin as he runs
through all of the options in his head. He doesn't really feel like going
somewhere crowded and neither of them are dressed for anything particularly
upscale, which shortens the list quite a bit, making it easier. Eventually, he
comes up with an idea he thinks would be perfect. "Can we just go through a
drive-thru and park up somewhere deserted, just the two of us?"
"If you're sure that's what you want?" Derek agrees readily, letting Stiles
direct him to whichever fast food chain he wants. After a short wait in the
queue, the teen has a box filled with greasy bags in his lap and Derek is
driving them to the outskirts of town, to a cosy little nook near the side of
the road that Laura told him about years ago, where no passing traffic will be
able to see them.
When Derek shuts off the engine, Stiles digs into the bags and divides the food
between them, his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering in anticipation when
he spies the two portions of curly fries Derek bought for him. His mate knows
him so well. "I swear, curly fries are the best food on the whole planet! I
could probably eat nothing else for the rest of my life and never get bored of
them. If they were healthier, I'd be sorely tempted to do just that... This is
perfect. Thank you," he breathes just before stuffing a handful of the fries in
his mouth. He moans around them, chewing slowly to savour the exquisite taste
before following them up with another equally big mouthful.
"You're welcome," Derek accepts, finding that he really agrees with Stiles'
words. He definitely prefers this to eating in a crowded establishment; they
can talk about whatever they want or sit in contented silence, and he doesn't
have to focus of blocking out everybody else's conversations around them.
They eat the rest of their food in silence, and Stiles is a little surprised
when he sees that he's actually consumed more than his mate for once. Usually,
Derek eats at least twice what he does, but he just shrugs to himself and pats
his slightly distended stomach proudly, wondering how he'll possibly be able to
fit some cake in on top of all of that if the pack ends up getting him one.
He'll probably have to stick to just one small slice this time. Crumpling up
all of the paper bags and tossing them back in the box they came with, he
twists himself around the places it carefully on the back seat so he doesn't
accidentally spill any of the rubbish down in the footwell. He's sure Derek
wouldn't appreciate that. "What now?" he asks when he's gotten himself situated
once more in the passenger seat, peering over at his mate questioningly when he
sees that the alpha is looking at something on his phone.
Derek looks up from the small screen and scrambles to come up something else
they can do while Stiles' surprise party is still being set up. He's just begun
panicking when his phone vibrates in his hand and a message from Lydia pops
up—'Good to go. Get back here now.'
"Well, actually...I kind of need to use the toilet, so do you mind if we head
back home?" Derek asks carefully, coming up with the flimsy excuse quickly so
he doesn't give anything away and ruin the surprise. He locks his phone again
and slides it back into his jeans pocket, getting anxious now that the main
event is almost here. He wonders what the best way would be to give Stiles his
present and hopes he'll be able to think of something appropriate before the
time comes.
"Can't you just go behind a bush or something? You wouldn't be the first person
to take a piss in the woods and I'm sure you won't be the last," Stiles jokes,
waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Derek. There have certainly been times
he's been out there and nature has called before he could get to a toilet.
"Uh, I need the other one," Derek mumbles, starting the engine without looking
over at Stiles and backing the car out of its hiding place and back onto the
road. He's relieved when his mate just makes a noise of understanding and drops
the subject, allowing him to drive them home in silence. His palms start
sweating when they get close, and he notes with approval that no other cars are
in the area when they come to a stop outside of their house. That'll certainly
make the party all the more surprising. The living room curtains have also been
pulled closed so there's no danger of Stiles seeing anything before he walks in
the front door. Getting out of the Camaro, he leads the way up the front steps,
the box of fast food wrappers clutched in his hands with Stiles trailing along
behind him. He can hear hushed voices coming from the other side of the door as
he turns the key in the lock, and he can just make out Erica telling everyone
to 'shut the fuck up and hide' as he turns the handle.
Stiles is unaware of anything. He's a little surprised that no one else has
shown up in the time he and Derek were gone, but he contents himself with he
knowledge that they're still planning on showing up later. He leans against the
wall by the door to wait for Derek to go and use the bathroom, tapping his foot
absentmindedly on the floor to the last song that was on the radio, which is
now stuck in his head. Damn you and your infectiously catchy songs, Taylor
Swift, he thinks.
"Why don't you go and wait in the living room? This might take a while..."
Derek suggests when he sees that Stiles hasn't moved any further into the
house. He himself stands just next to the arch that leads into the living room,
and he can see all of the colourful decorations out of the corner of his eye.
Finally looking up, Stiles nods his acceptance and uncrosses his arms, kicking
his shoes off before walking through to the living room. His eyes go wide and
he freezes in his steps as soon as he catches sight of all the changes the room
has undergone since he last saw it. His mind hasn't quite caught up with
everything and put together why it's all there when all of a sudden, eleven
bodies burst forth from behind the sofas and from around the kitchen doorframe.
He's almost blown off his feet with shock when they all yell, "Surprise!" at
the top of their lungs, flailing backward and being caught by Derek, the
alpha's hands wedging beneath his arms and keeping him from falling on his ass.
"What the hell...?" he gasps, clutching at his chest after Derek helps him
stand up straight again.
"It's your birthday party, dumbass," Erica greets, rolling her eyes as she
watches Isaac rush forward and bring Stiles fully into the room. She flops down
on the sofa and observes the proceedings, smirking to herself when the human
teen practically squeals in delight after finally spotting the theme that runs
through all of the decorations.
"Dude, this is fucking awesome!" Stiles exclaims, his mouth gaping as he takes
everything in. He didn't even know they made party decorations based on his
favourite comic book characters, though he guesses they're supposed to be for
children. Still, that theory doesn't stop him from enjoying them immensely, and
he promptly pulls Lydia into a bone-crushing hug when the redhead informs him
that they were her idea. When the banshee bats his arms away while fighting a
smile, he turns on Derek and narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I'm assuming this
was the reason you decided to take me out to lunch out of the blue?" The alpha
is also wrapped up in a tight embrace when he nods. "Best mate ever!" He plants
a sloppy kiss on Derek's bearded cheek before releasing him and allowing
himself to be dragged down onto the sofa next to Isaac. His eyes widen when he
finally notices that there's one extra person than he was expecting in the
room.
Charlie smiles shyly when she sees that Stiles' gaze has fallen on her. "Hey,"
she greets quietly, feeling a little out of place in such unfamiliar
surroundings. She's grateful when Stiles pats the seat next to him, taking it
willingly.
Using a quick flash of his eyes after making sure that Charlie isn't looking in
his direction, Derek orders Isaac out of his seat, immediately taking the
beta's place on Stiles' other side and making sure to stay close. Even though
he got most of his emotions and reservations out of his system the previous
weekend, he still feels a little bit territorial whenever his mate is around
the strange girl. He's pleased that no one seems to notice it, though, or that
they don't call him out on it if they do.
Stiles is baffled for a moment when Isaac gives him a stack of colourful paper
cones out of nowhere. He stares at the beta for a second before realising what
they are, and he grins as he pulls off the topmost one and positions it on the
top of his head, the string snapping into place just beneath his chin. He loves
party hats and how ridiculous they look, and it doesn't bother him that no one
else other than Scott appears to want to put theirs on. Still, that doesn't
stop him from turning to Derek with a mischievous glint in his eye. Before his
mate can get away, he snaps the hat on the alpha's head and presses another
kiss to his cheek to get him to behave, cackling when he pulls away again and
sees the very grumpy expression on the man's face.
"It really suits you. In fact, you should consider wearing one every day!"
Stiles suggests jovially, snatching Derek's hand in his own when the man makes
to pull the hat off again. "Nuh-uh, Sourwolf. My party, my rules, and I say
that you have to wear a party hat. You wouldn't want to make me sad now, would
you?" He makes his own face look as forlorn as possible, his eyes growing big
and wet until Derek sighs as if it pains him and acquiesces.
"Right, let's start with the cake!" Lydia commands, clapping her hands twice
and looking expectantly at Jackson until the boy sighs and walks through to the
kitchen. He returns a few seconds later with a huge, white box balanced atop
his forearms, his hands curled around the far side of it to keep it steady.
Lydia helps him set it down on the coffee table and promptly flips the lid
open, smirking when everybody edges in closer and peers over the sides to get a
glimpse at what's hidden within. "You have Erica's mother to thank for this
delicious little piece of heaven. You should definitely consider thanking her
whenever you see her next, Stiles, since she baked this just for you. She had
my input, of course, every step of the way; trust me when I say you're never
going to taste something this good ever again. I should know; I was the taste
tester."
Within the box is a twelve-by-eighteen inch sheet cake, similar to the one
Erica's mother made for Derek's birthday at the beginning of the year. This
time, however, instead of standard frosting, the woman has printed a photograph
on the top. Stiles recognises it immediately as the one they'd taken soon after
the house was finished, of the pack all gathered together on the sofas, every
one of them smiling toothily up at the timed camera he'd balanced carefully on
the mantelpiece. "This is amazing..." he breathes, wondering where Lydia
managed to get a copy of the photo. As far as he knew, the only two copies of
it are the framed version hung on one of the living room walls and the file
still on his computer. It's been his desktop wallpaper since the day it was
taken.
"Alright, you know the drill, birthday boy," Lydia announces suddenly, cutting
through the awed silence that has fallen over the room. She reaches into the
side of the box and pulls out the knife she'd put in there in advance, holding
it out to Stiles, handle first.
"Hang on a second; I have got to take a picture of this," Stiles responds,
quickly pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it up lengthways. The
flash goes off a few short seconds later, and he smiles down at the resulting
image on the screen before saving it to put on Facebook later. That done, he
finally takes the knife from Lydia and does a fast calculation in his head,
working out many different pieces he can divide the cake up into. With a
practised hand, he cuts it up into twenty equal squares, one for each person
present and seven leftover pieces in case anyone wants seconds. He guesses
several of the wolves will. Derek hands him a stack of paper plates, and he
slides a slice onto each one before handing them off to everybody. He does this
until they all have a piece, his mouth watering when he gets a glimpse at the
inside of the cake for the first time and sees that it looks incredibly
chocolatey. He gives himself the one that has Derek's happy face beaming up at
him. The image makes him smile, too, every time he sees it.
When he takes his first bite, he immediately knows why Lydia was praising it so
highly before. It's the best cake he's ever tasted, and that includes that ones
he's made over the past few months whenever the betas have managed to
manipulate him into baking one.
The conversation turns to all of the various things that have happened to the
pack over the past couple of weeks, everybody laughing raucously whenever
someone says something particularly amusing. Stiles ends up sitting back and
just silently observing most of it as he finishes off his cake, feeling a
little sad when he slips the last forkful into his mouth. Before any of the
betas can snatch up all of the spare pieces, he slips two of them onto his
paper plate. "These two are for me and Derek tomorrow, so no one even think of
thieving them or you will be punished. Severely," he warns, pointing his fork
threateningly around the room, lingering a few seconds longer on Scott than he
does on anyone else.
Once everyone else is finished, Lydia looks pointedly at Jackson again until he
makes a second trip through to the kitchen, accompanied by Boyd. They return a
few seconds later, both of their arms laden with a seemingly endless amount of
wrapped boxes, all of varying sizes.
Lydia tells them to set the packages down carefully on the coffee table. "All
of them are labelled, so just dive right in, Stiles," she instructs, feeling a
sense of elation when she sees the shocked and excited expression on the boy's
face, finding his enthusiasm incredibly contagious.
Doing as he's told, Stiles immediately leans forward with a huge smile on his
face, picking up the first package that takes his fancy. It's wrapped in
glittery emerald green paper, and the label stuck to the top with a bow informs
him that it's from Kira. Carelessly ripping off the paper, he uses his nail to
peel off the tape sealing the plain cardboard box closed and flips open the
flaps, his face lighting up even more when he sees what's hidden within. He
pulls out a brand new, soft hoodie. It's tawny in colour, and he laughs happily
when he finds two pointy ears are sewn onto the hood. "This is awesome!" he
praises, hastily unzipping his old red hoodie and shucking it off onto the
floor, slipping on the tawny one immediately afterward. He yanks off the paper
cone still on his head and pulls up the hood before turning to face the rest of
the room, holding his hands up in front of his face with his fingers curled
like claws. "Well? How do I look?"
"Like a dork," Jackson answers, his tone bored as he picks at his nails with
disinterest. He wheezes when Lydia elbows him hard in the stomach, quickly
backtracking between panted breaths to avoid any more of the girl's violent
outbursts. "I mean, looks great!"
"I just thought that, since you love wolves so much, this might help you 'blend
in' a bit more, so to speak," Kira explains, proud of herself for managing to
choose something that Stiles appears to love so much. It wasn't easy picking
out a present for the boy when she doesn't really know him that well.
One by one, Stiles tears through everybody's presents and is pleasantly
surprised by how well they've all done; he at least likes every single one,
even the new pair of expensive-looking headphones from Jackson. He gets: two
new video games he's been wanting to check out from Scott—Darksiders II and
Mass Effect 3; a black, skin-tight shirt with Iron Man's arc reactor in the
centre of the chest from Erica; a pink, frilly apron with the words, 'BEWARE:
THE CHEF IS HOT!' printed in black lettering across the front from Cora; a
bright red Deadpool shirt from Boyd; a vibrating dildo and a pair of fluffy,
pink handcuffs from Danny—"What? I thought you and Derek might find them
useful!"; the complete series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from Charlie; a new
pair of purple Converse All Stars from Isaac; a brand new set of hunting knives
from Allison; and the Argent bestiary, completely translated, from Lydia.
Stiles has to explain those last two to Charlie when he sees how wide her eyes
get, telling her that Allison comes from a family of hunters and that he has an
avid interest in anything mythological. Luckily, the girl seems to buy it.
"Wait...isn't there something missing?" Isaac asks when the last package has
been opened and put aside, his tone both confused and curious and his brow
scrunched up adorably. "Yeah, where's your present, Derek?" He runs his eyes
over the whole room as if he thinks the alpha has hidden it somewhere in there,
only stopping when the man in question gets up from his seat and levels him
with a half-condescending, half-fond look.
Derek lets up with his intense gaze when it causes Isaac to shift in place
uncomfortably. "I was keeping it elsewhere so the surprise wouldn't be ruined,"
he explains, adjusting his leather jacket and pulling his car keys from the
left pocket. He twirls the ring around his index finger and smirks to himself
when he sees that everybody's attention is focused solely on him. "Lydia?" When
the girl nods and gets up to follow him, he begins heading toward the front
door, yelling, "Keep Stiles away from the windows until I get back!" over his
shoulder before it slams shut.
Releasing a facetiously offended noise, Stiles scoffs and crosses his arms,
leaning back against the sofa cushions and resting one of his legs atop the
other, his foot propped up on the coffee table. Even though he keeps up a calm
and almost disinterested front, his mind is racing a mile a minute as he waits
for Derek to return. He comes up with fantastical ideas and immediately
dismisses every one, chastising his brain for presenting him with such
ridiculousness. Glancing around the room, he feels a little bit better knowing
that, apart from Lydia, no one else appears to be in on whatever Derek has
gotten him. When it's been ten minutes and the alpha still hasn't gotten back,
he bites at his nails and stands quickly, heading through to the kitchen and
getting a glass of milk to distract himself. Turning around, he rolls his eyes
and scoffs when he sees that Isaac has tailed him, obviously taking Derek's
parting instruction to heart. "Goody two shoes..." he mutters, not at all
caring that the beta can still hear him clearly.
"You know if you got something for Derek and the surprise was ruined for him
that you'd feel bad, too, so don't even start with me," Isaac remarks, leaning
against the door jamb as he waits for Stiles to finish his milk. "This is for
your own good."
Pouting, Stiles fills his now-empty glass with water to wash it out and puts it
upside down in the dishwasher. "So much for you being my favourite..." he
grumbles, smacking Isaac gently on the back of the head on his return to the
living room. He catches sight of the other betas trying to smother their
laughter and glares at them all. When Isaac sits next to him again, he turns
away from him petulantly.
"Please, you know you love me," Isaac dismisses easily, forcibly turning
Stiles' head and pulling him into a tight hug. He doesn't release the other boy
even when he gets elbowed hard in the ribs and he sees that they're in danger
of slipping off of the sofa. "Shh, it'll all be OK. Isaac's here..." His voice
is hushed, his hand moving up and tucking Stiles' face into his neck before his
fingers tangle in his hair, stroking in soothing motions. When he feels blunt,
human teeth bite forcefully into the skin of his neck, he finally allows Stiles
to flail away from him, giggling to himself when the other boy finally does
fall to the floor. Most of the room joins in, the only ones not laughing with
him being Jackson and Boyd. Taking pity on his pack mom, he helps Stiles get
back up into his seat in the middle of the sofa.
"You're being demoted. Very bad puppy!" Stiles admonishes testily, brushing the
dust from his jeans and making a mental note that he really has to do some
vacuuming in there soon before slumping back in his seat. He can feel that his
hat is sitting askew on his head, but he doesn't care enough to fix it.
"Oh, stop being such an idiot..." Jackson scolds, returning Stiles' affronted
glare with an unimpressed one of his own. The fact that Derek isn't there at
that moment allows him to feel safe berating the human teen, otherwise he
wouldn't dare for fear of being growled into submission. "And you don't have to
wait much longer; Derek's almost here."
Charlie looks between the two boys with a frown on her face. "How do you know
that?" she asks Jackson curiously, turning to look over her shoulder at the
front door just to make sure she didn't somehow miss the sound of it opening
again or something.
Thinking quick on his feet, Jackson holds up his phone and smirks confidently.
"He just texted me," he explains, breathing a sigh of relief when Charlie nods
and looks away again, satisfied. He sees Erica's eyes narrow in his direction
out of the corner of his own and knows that the blonde is going to report his
little slip to Lydia as soon as the banshee gets back. He hopes that she
doesn't give him the same punishment he had last time, shuddering as he recalls
the traumatic event.
Jumping up from his seat, Stiles walks through to the foyer when he hears the
front door open, ignoring Lydia when the girl flounces past him without a
second glance. He overhears her telling the rest of the room to stay put, that
Derek wanted to give him his gift without a big audience. Speaking of the
alpha, he's confused when the man steps through the door with empty arms,
though he is pleased to see that he left the party hat on during whatever it
was he was doing. Closing the distance between them, his bewilderment increases
when Derek immediately steps behind him and covers his eyes with hands. "Um,
what's going on?" he asks, walking forward obediently when his mate tells him
to do so. It feels strange to walk blindly out of the house, and navigating the
stairs is a little tricky, but he trusts his mate not to let him injure
himself. Once their feet hit the snow-covered grass, they walk a few feet more
before coming to a stop.
"You ready?" Derek asks, leaning in close to Stiles' ear and whispering the
words. He smirks when he's able to detect the smallest shiver running through
the teen's body. When Stiles squeaks out a quiet, "Yes," he finally removes his
hands, stepping back a little bit so his mate can get the full effect. Glancing
quickly behind himself at the house to see whether or not they're being
watched, he rolls his eyes when he sees the curtains fluttering slightly, like
someone quickly moved away from the window.
Stiles stands breathless and frozen in his spot in front of the house. He
blinks hard a couple of times like he believes what he's seeing isn't real and
that it'll disappear at any moment. The_car is positioned lengthways a few feet
away, the bright blue paint shining in the mid-afternoon sun. Everything about
it looks pristine and new, and he circles around it slowly, taking in every
detail. His hand shakes as he reaches out to touch it, his fingers skating
across the metal lettering on the doors which spells out 'CAMARO'. His voice
cracks when he finally manages to turn away from the vehicle to face Derek
again. "What is this...?" he enquires quietly, his eyes snapping to the alpha's
hand when he pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. At
first, he thinks they're Derek's, but then he notices the absence of the little
silver wolf keychain he'd gotten the man on a whim a few months ago.
"It's your birthday present," Derek says gently, not sure what to make of
Stiles' reaction. He doesn't know whether the teen actually likes it or not,
since the tears he can see building in the other's eyes could go either way.
Stepping forward to join Stiles next to the car, he takes his mate's hand and
drops the keys down in his palm.
Running his fingers over the metal almost reverently, Stiles takes a shuddering
breath before meeting Derek's eyes again. "I can't believe you did this..." he
whispers, darting forward suddenly and burying his face in his mate's chest,
his arms wrapping around the alpha's torso to hold on for dear life as the
tears finally spill over. He pushes impossibly closer when Derek's own arms
come around him in return, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies as
he struggles to get a hold of himself. Derek's calming scent does wonders to
help him and with one last sniffle, he finally reigns his emotions back in. "I
love you so fucking much."
Stiles' voice is muffled in the material of his shirt, but Derek still
understands the words perfectly. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of the
teen's head and squeezes him tightly, closing his eyes and enjoying the
closeness. "I love you, too, Stiles. Happy birthday."
***** Workout *****
Derek and Stiles stand in their embrace for a few minutes longer, neither one
really wanting to let go of the other. Eventually, though, Stiles pulls away
reluctantly and blinks away the remaining wetness from his eyes, embarrassed
about the sudden display of emotion. His hand is still clenched around the keys
for his new car, and he looks up from examining them again when he feels
Derek's hand on his shoulder. The alpha leads him around to the driver's-side
door before opening it for him.
"Feel like taking it on a test drive?" Derek suggests, a gentle smile still on
his face. He's unable to wipe it off, his relief that Stiles seems to love his
gift is so great. It transforms into something a lot more toothy when the teen
lets out a great squeal and immediately hops in behind the wheel, practically
vibrating with excitement. "I'll take that as a yes."
Shutting the driver's-side door with a soft click, Derek wanders back around
the passenger side and slides into his seat, buckling himself in and watching
as Stiles turns his head left and right over and over as he takes everything
in.
"God, this is fucking amazing!" Stiles gushes, running his hands over every
available surface. He strokes over the steering wheel before taking the keys
and inserting them into the ignition, turning them slowly and grinning over at
Derek when the engine rumbles to life. "It's so quiet!" Putting the car into
gear, he presses down lightly on the pedal and eases them along the driveway,
getting a feel for how it handles. Derek gives him pointers along the way,
since he's never driven a car like this before and the man can see how nervous
he is about potentially accidentally crashing into a tree or something. He
maintains his sedate pace for a little while when they get down onto the main
road, thankful that there aren't any other vehicles around to get annoyed at
him. Soon, his confidence grows and he feels up to pressing his foot down a
little bit harder, his fingers tightening around the wheel as he tries to get
used to how responsive it is. The smallest difference in pressure changes the
speed quite a bit.
Stiles takes them in a complete loop around Beacon Hills, not wanting to ever
stop driving. In the short amount of time since they left the rest of the pack
back at the house, he's already fallen in love with the car. He can't wait
until school the following Monday, already picturing in his mind all of the
shocked and envious expressions that'll be on the other students' faces when he
parks up in lot in the morning.
Not wanting to leave the rest of the pack and Charlie alone for too much
longer, Stiles steers the car back down the road leading to the house, pulling
to a stop almost expertly right next to Derek's black Camaro. They make quite
the pair, he thinks approvingly.
"So, what do you think?" Derek asks as they continue to sit in their seats,
breaking the awed silence. He's quite proud of how quickly Stiles has adjusted
to the new controls, the teen already seeming comfortable and at home behind
the wheel. He was anticipating it to take a bit longer, but he guesses it's
just like Stiles to go against all of his expectations and surprise him in the
best ways possible.
"I love it," Stiles replies, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the
logo in the middle of the steering wheel. He really means it; from the rims on
the wheels to the colour of the paint, everything about it is perfect. "It
must've cost a fortune, though... I can't believe you spent that much on me."
Expelling a small puff of air out through his nose with amusement, Derek turns
slightly in his seat and takes Stiles' right hand in his. "Of course I did.
Money is no object, and even if it was, it'd be worth every cent to see that
smile on your face," he explains quietly, looking away from Stiles' love-filled
eyes. He feels a little awkward saying something so sappy, but he means every
single word. The sound of Stiles unbuckling his seatbelt fills the car before
his mate clambers over toward him, ending up sat in his lap. A startled little
yelp escapes him at the sudden change, but he takes Stiles' weight easily and
his hands come up to rest on the teen's hips almost automatically. When he
tilts his head back to look up at Stiles' face, his eyes slip closed in bliss
when their lips meet tenderly, his mate kissing him slowly. He can feel every
single emotion the teen feels for him and they go straight to his heart, making
him genuinely worry that it'll burst out of his chest with how big it gets.
"How did I ever get so lucky...?" Stiles asks breathlessly when he finally
pulls away, his lips feeling wet and swollen from the small bites Derek put
into the kiss. He swipes his tongue out over them to soothe the slight ache,
snorting when he notices that Derek's eyes are tracking the movement, the
alpha's head leaning back against the headrest and his thumbs rubbing circles
into his hipbones beneath his shirt.
Derek can sense the exact moment they get an audience, but for once, he doesn't
care in the slightest. He's far too relaxed to offer up any protests or even
point out the fact to Stiles. He can feel the teen's erection pressed against
his own hardening cock, and he has to try really hard to resist bucking up into
it. "Perhaps you were really good in a past life?" he jokes, smiling when
Stiles tosses his head back and laughs loudly. The sound of the front door
opening reaches his ears, and he turns in its direction to see the pack all
filtering out through it, probably coming to investigate what's taking them so
long.
"Mmm, I still have to come up with a way to thank you properly for this, you
know..." Stiles points out huskily, his gaze heated. He makes all of Derek's
restraint futile when he grinds his own hips down instead, their hard cocks
rubbing together maddeningly. "I'm gonna ride your brains out when everyone's
gone."
Lydia knocks on the car window, bringing Stiles and Derek out of their staring
contest. "Are you two going to sit in there all day or are you actually going
to come and join us again at some point?" she asks somewhat testily, pleased
that Stiles appears to be enjoying himself but a little ticked off that all her
hard work is going unappreciated. She steps back from the door when the boy
pushes it open, almost falling out of the car as he tries to climb off of
Derek. He's as ungraceful as ever. "Good choice. Now, we're all going to get
changed in preparation for the rest of what we have planned for you, Stiles, so
you'd best be ready, too, by the time we get back. I've laid out clothes on
your bed for both you and Derek, so don't even think of changing into something
else." After pointing an accusatory finger at Stiles, she grabs Jackson's hand
and begins the walk down the driveway to where she'd made the beta park his
car. It's quite a distance away, since she didn't want Stiles to see see it
before they could surprise him with the party.
A few seconds later, Derek joins the rest of the pack outside and shuts the car
door behind himself, making sure he stands close behind Stiles to conceal the
fact that his erection hasn't quite gone down yet. He follows when everyone
else heads back inside the house to collect their things.
"What was Lydia talking about, 'the rest of what we have planned'?" Stiles asks
Danny after he shuts the front door. He sits down on the sofa and watches as
everyone puts on their coats and scarves, leaning back with his arms crossed in
front of his chest when he doesn't immediately receive an answer. He glances
over his shoulder when he notices that Derek hasn't joined him and frowns when
he doesn't find a single trace of the alpha anywhere in the room.
"Here," Danny says simply, slipping something out of his wallet and handing it
off to Stiles. It's the other boy's fake ID. He'd already given everybody else
theirs while Stiles and Derek were off taking the new car for a test drive. A
seed of jealousy had taken root in his stomach when he'd looked out of the
window and seen it for the first time, wishing that he could afford something
so nice.
Stiles looks down at the flat piece of plastic in his hands, turning it over a
couple of times as he examines every inch of it. When he spies that his
birthday has been pushed back by three years, he makes a noise of
understanding. "So...we're going out drinking or something?" he asks, standing
again and sliding the fake ID into his back pocket when Danny just nods at him.
By this point, most of the other pack members have already left, not bothering
to say goodbye since they'll be meeting up again in a short while. He glances
at the presents still piled up on the coffee table and vacillates between
dealing with them now or later. He decides to go with the latter, figuring it'd
be best if he gets ready as soon as possible so that he doesn't keep Lydia
waiting. After Danny and Isaac exit the house as well, leaving him and Derek
alone, he goes upstairs and into their bedroom. The alpha is stood next to the
bed, eyeing the clothes laid out on the sheets critically. When he steps up
next to Derek, he can see why.
The garments Lydia has chosen for both of them are considerably more flashy
than everything else either of them are used to wearing; they look a lot
tighter, too, especially the ones meant for Derek. Shrugging to himself, Stiles
sheds his clothes quickly and tries to squeeze into the black jeans he guesses
are his. He can barely walk after he pops the button closed and does up the
zipper, but when he turns his head, he catches a glimpse of himself in the
full-length mirror that stands across the room. Nodding approvingly, he can see
why Lydia picked these out for him; they frame his ass perfectly.
"Does Lydia really expect me to wear this?!" Derek asks incredulously, finally
moving forward and picking up his t-shirt. He holds it away from himself as if
he's afraid it'll come to life and bite him on the face. He doesn't remember
ever buying it, so he guesses that Lydia must have taken it upon herself to
provide outfits for them without getting their input.
"Just try it on and see how it looks..." Stiles replies distractedly, tugging
on his own shirt next. It's emerald green in colour and, just as he was
expecting, it clings to every part of his torso; when he looks down, he can see
the planes of each lithe muscle shifting as he breathes, the fabric
unbelievably soft against his skin. Since he's still a little cold from the
snow outside, his nipples create two very noticeable bumps, which make him feel
a little self-conscious. Nevertheless, he resolves that he's going to ignore
that minor flaw and embrace how every other part of his body looks in Lydia's
chosen outfit. It's not often that he thinks he's attractive—the only times he
really does is when he and Derek make love and the alpha will look at him as if
he's the most beautiful and precious thing in the world—but he can admit that
he looks pretty damn good in that moment. If it wasn't for the fact that he
wants to avoid giving Lydia the satisfaction and that he'd miss his flannel and
superhero-themed clothes, he'd ask the girl to pick out an entirely new
wardrobe for him.
Sighing, Derek pulls off his leather jacket and lays it down next to the
clothes on the bed before stripping out of the rest of his clothes as well. He
throws them on top of the pile Stiles just made on the floor. The t-shirt Lydia
chose for him is skin-tight and thin, leaving absolutely nothing to the
imagination.
As good-looking as he knows himself to be, objectively speaking, Derek doesn't
feel too comfortable doing anything to show off and give people even more of a
reason to stare at him.
Derek doesn't really have a problem with his body being on display around
Stiles and the rest of the pack, within reason. He works hard to maintain it
and he likes to see the fruits of his labours be appreciated. Strangers are
another thing entirely, though. After he pulls the trousers up his legs and
zips them shut, he looks down and sees the way they cup his crotch, putting his
soft cock and balls on clear display; it looks like he's not even wearing any
underwear. "I'm gonna kill her..." he seethes, gritting his teeth. He can't
believe Lydia would think he'd go out in public looking like that. Bringing out
his claws, he's just about to tear the trousers apart when Stiles wraps a hand
around his wrist and stops him.
"Don't rip them to shreds, you dummy," Stiles admonishes fondly, meeting the
glare Derek sends his way with a playful grin. "I know these clothes are
pretty...exposing, let's say, but I think you look super hot. Besides, mine do
the same thing." He he does a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin to prove
his point, pausing halfway through to give Derek a chance to stare predictably
at his ass. "It could be fun."
Huffing, Derek concedes Stiles' point and doesn't feel at all embarrassed about
getting caught ogling the teen when he turns back around. "I suppose you're
right..." he mumbles, checking himself out in the mirror, "but as soon as this
night is over, these clothes are never seeing the light of day again."
"Suit yourself," Stiles replies, amused at how easy it was to bring Derek
around to his way of thinking. He plans on getting at least one more usage out
of his new clothes before they disappear, though, already plotting the many
different ways he could strut around in them in front of Derek and drive him
wild. They'll probably get destroyed when the alpha gets stick of his teasing,
but he doesn't mind. As long as Lydia doesn't find out what happened to them,
they'll be fine. "Do you know what time we're supposed to be meeting the
others?" He's a little curious about how Derek will take the rest of the
evening, since the man isn't usually the type to go out partying. He doesn't
even think his mate partook in any of that when he was single and living in New
York City. It would surprise him greatly if he did.
Looking at his phone, Derek feels a sense of dread building in his stomach when
he sees that it's approaching eight in the evening. "We're supposed to gather
outside Jungle in half an hour," he explains simply, hoping that he won't have
too terrible a time. He doesn't want to ruin the rest of Stiles' day.
"Hmm, this should be interesting... You in a gay club," Stiles muses, thinking
back to the last time he'd been inside of the place, when he and Scott were
tailing the kanima. He smiles to himself as he remembers how he'd been accosted
by a bunch of drag queens. They'd actually been pretty fun and he knows that if
he hadn't been in such a dire situation back then, he'd have willingly gone
along with them and badgered them with endless questions. It's a fascinating
profession, he thinks, and his curiosity about it has only grown since Danny
introduced him to the wonders of RuPaul's Drag Race a few months ago.
"I've been to gay clubs before, Stiles, back in New York," Derek mumbles,
tugging at the hem of his shirt when it keeps riding up and exposing his
stomach. "Laura used to drag me to one that was pretty close to where we lived.
She used to say that they were the funnest places to party, but I think she
just liked that there weren't really any straight guys in there to hit on her
all night..."
Derek shudders and scrunches his nose up as he remembers how that was
definitely not the case for him. Luckily, a short growl had always been enough
to deter all of the horny old men that used to approach him back then. His
sister had never been any help, finding the whole thing hilarious.
"Whatever. Let's just get going," Stiles dismisses, handing Derek his leather
jacket before leading the way downstairs. He lets Derek drive, not really
wanting to take his brand new car to the lot of a nightclub. It doesn't take
long and, before he knows it, they're parked up and walking down the read
toward Jungle, keeping an eye out for any of the others. They find the rest of
the pack gathered at the end of the queue to get inside, all of them with their
new fake IDs at the ready. The loud music can be heard blaring through the
walls, almost shaking the ground in its intensity.
Lydia is the first to spot Stiles and Derek approaching. "It's about damn time
you two got here!" she yells, looking over their outfits approvingly. "You look
great!"
Stiles is shocked at how different Charlie looks from her usual self. Gone are
the mismatched clothes and the minimal makeup, replaced with a stark white crop
top, a skimpy leather skirt and fishnet leggings. Her pin-straight hair has
changed as well. It's now full of loose waves that frame her face perfectly.
The line moves slowly, and it takes almost half an hour for the group to reach
the front of it. They all flash their IDs at the bouncer before heading inside,
filtering in through the door and weaving through the crowd to get to the bar
on the other side of the room. The place is a real spectacle, the dance floor a
sea of writhing bodies and bright lights. They all stick together for the time
being after finding several stools free, taking seats on them and ordering the
first round of drinks from the bartender. Everyone has brought their own money
except for Stiles, though he doesn't have to worry about being left out. Derek
graciously pays for his drink, making an exception to his rule about not buying
the pack alcohol since it's his birthday. "Dude, thanks! This is awesome!" he
shouts to the alpha, only just hearing his own voice over the music still
blasting from the speakers.
"Don't expect it all the time," Derek warns, looking away from Stiles' grinning
face before the teen can notice the mirrored smile on his own. His nose is a
little irritated by the stench of sweat, old come and alcohol in the air, but
he figures he can put up with it for a while.
After making sure no one else is watching, Lydia slips a packet of wolfsbane
from her pocket and hands it around to the betas, each of them putting a small
amount in their chosen drinks so they can feel the effects of the alcohol as
well. The night is bound to be more fun that way. Once Jackson has downed his
beverage, he drags Lydia out onto the dance floor, the pair quickly getting
lost in the crowd.
It doesn't take long for everyone else to follow their lead, disappearing pair
by pair. Surprisingly, Charlie is pulled out onto the floor by a quickly
inebriated Cora. The redhead looks around the place with wonder and allows the
youngest Hale to guide her movements. Soon enough, the two of them are grinding
up against each other, and Charlie can't help but think of what her mother's
reaction would be if the woman were to see her in that moment. The thought
makes her laugh happily, enjoying the rush of danger she feels.
In the end, it's just Derek and Stiles left sitting at the bar, the teen still
nursing his own drink. He's gone for something fruity, a lemon wedge hanging
off the rim of the tall glass. It makes a change from the liquor he stole from
his dad over the years. He definitely prefers it. "Aren't you gonna get
anything?" he asks Derek, pulling the man out of his reverie.
Derek goes to shake his head, but quickly buckles when Stiles looks at him
sadly. He sighs before flagging down the bartender again and ordering something
strong, waving Stiles off when the teen goes to tip some wolfsbane in the dark
liquid. "Someone has to remain sober throughout this whole thing, and if I'm
going to be driving you home later, then I think that someone should be me,
hmm?" he points out, taking his first sip. He licks his lips and finds that he
rather enjoys the taste. Even though regular alcohol has no effect on him until
it's in ludicrously large doses, he makes a mental note to himself to start
buying some again.
The pair of them stay sitting at the bar for another hour or so, Stiles getting
Derek to buy him drink after drink. The alpha looks increasingly unsure, but a
quick batting of his eyelashes always gets Stiles his way. This goes on until
he flies past tipsy and right into flat-out drunk, his confidence growing and
his inhibitions all but vanishing.
Wanting to join in on the fun—he figures that was the whole point of coming out
there in the first place—Stiles downs the rest of his current drink and slams
the glass back down on the bar before grabbing Derek's hand. It takes some
serious pulling since the man is unwilling to leave his stool, but eventually,
Derek seems to get tired of resisting and allows himself to be dragged out into
the crowd with the rest of the pack. Stiles pulls them right into the thick of
it all before stopping and turning to Derek with a mischievous glint in his
eye. He's thankful that Lydia and Allison had given him a brief lesson on how
to dance properly during Derek's birthday party at the beginning of the year;
it now allows him to move his hips and grind up on his mate without feeling
like he's doing something wrong and making himself look like an idiot. He makes
a complete circle around Derek before realising that the alpha is apparently
not going to do his part.
Stiles huffs up at his mate's unimpressed face and pouts. "C'mon, Sourwolf!
Dance with me!" he whines, taking Derek's hands and putting them on his ass
before doing the same with his own. He makes sure to cop a good feel, squeezing
the older man's firm globes appreciatively. "I'll make it worth your while..."
He winks devilishly, bucking his hips forward so that their crotches rub
together.
Relenting, Derek listens to the music and tries to match his movements to the
beat. He's a little amazed that Stiles is able to keep up without a problem,
though he guesses that the teen has the alcohol in his system to thank for
removing his self-consciousness.
The fact that Stiles is practically writhing against him reignites the fire
that started burning in Derek's gut earlier, and he feels himself growing hard
in his jeans. He doesn't have the heart to tell his mate to stop, though, not
when he gets a glimpse at the happy and carefree expression on his face. Soon
enough, it's like all of the other people on the dance floor disappear, leaving
just the two of them in their own little world. The heady scent of Stiles fills
his nose and, after a while, he can't resist leaning forward and capturing the
teen's mouth in a fierce kiss, running high on the energy of the room. There's
a hint of salt on his mate's tongue that mixes with the fruit of the drink he'd
had a few minutes ago, but beneath all of that is the pure taste of his mate, a
taste that never fails to drive him insane.
Derek guesses that Stiles is as affected by the kiss as he is, the teen letting
out a seemingly endless stream of moans and tiny whimpers into his mouth as it
goes on. He doesn't ever want it to stop, which, of course, is when they're
interrupted. Someone crashes into his side, knocking him off-balance and Stiles
to the floor.
His head spinning as Derek helps him back to his feet, Stiles has to blink a
couple of times to get his mate's stupidly attractive face to swim into focus
again. When it does, he runs his hands over the man's body, not stopping until
he's checked every inch. "Dude, you OK?" he asks, his words slurring slightly
and his voice dripping with needless worry, since he was the one who actually
took a tumble. It's then that he notices someone lingering next to them. He
turns to find Charlie stood there, looking incredibly guilty. "Oh, it was you!"
Before Charlie can apologise, Cora suddenly appears beside her and tries to
drag her back over to where they'd been dancing. "C'mon, you can't stop now! We
were just getting to the good part!" she exclaims, waving a quick hello to
Stiles and Derek before taking Charlie with her as she disappears back into the
crowd.
"What the hell is up with those two?" Stiles asks confusedly, his head tilted
to the side. It still feels a little sore because of how hard he had hit it
against the floor when he'd fallen, but it's lessening slowly with time. Derek
looks as baffled as he does, so he just pushes the question out of his mind and
slides his hands beneath the alpha's leather jacket, aiming to fit them around
his ass again and continue dancing. Surprisingly, even though Derek's jeans are
ludicrously tight, he finds he's just able to wedge his fingers beneath the
waistband, where his palms are met with the warm, hair-dusted muscles of the
alpha's ass. He squeezes them appreciatively. This seems to spur Derek into
action as well, and he melts against the man again as their bodies start to
move to the music and their mouths clash.
Stiles tries to take control of the kiss, but as usual, he quickly finds
himself outmatched and just holds on for the ride as Derek's tongue plunders
his mouth, sucking on it eagerly and revelling in the rumbling he feels build
in the alpha's chest in return.
After a couple of minutes, Stiles' fingertips begin to explore, creeping closer
to the centre of Derek's ass. When one of the digits presses right up against
his hole, Derek growls loudly and feels grateful that his eyes are already shut
when he's unable to stop them from flashing red. He doubts anyone else would
notice with all of the other colours flying around in people's hands, but he'd
rather be safe now than sorry later.
In retaliation, Derek eases his own hand between them and rubs at Stiles' hard
cock through his jeans, drinking in the small mewl he gets in return. The
sensual movements of Stiles' body falter against his own, so he uses his other
hand to grip the teen's hip and guide him. Everything in his own body is
telling him to take Stiles out of the crowded room they're in and find
somewhere more secluded, but he keeps them right where they are, amid a sea of
strangers. His wolf certainly seems to approve of the idea that, if anybody
else should see something, they'll know that Stiles' is his and his alone.
After thumbing open the button of Stiles' jeans, Derek licks his palm and works
his hand down into the teen's boxers, gripping his erection firmly and stroking
from base to tip, their skin slicked with his saliva.
When Stiles stops all pretences of dancing and just bucks into his hand, Derek
pulls away and stares down into the lust-blown eyes of his mate. His pupils are
large with alcohol and arousal, and he can't help thinking that it's a very
good look on him. It doesn't take him long to bring Stiles to the edge, and
with one last particularly filthy pump of his hand, his wrist twisting on the
upstroke, the teen shudders through his orgasm, his head flopping forward to
rest against his collarbone.
Wetness coats his hand. Derek keeps stroking Stiles through his orgasm until a
small whine lets him know that it's crossed from pleasure into over-stimulated
pain. Only then does he let up, taking his hand out of Stiles' underwear.
Making sure that his mate is watching, Derek licks the teen's release from his
hand, his tongue slotting between all of his fingers to make sure he catches
every drop. "So fucking delicious..." he growls, smirking when he notices that
Stiles appears to have been rendered speechless. He's not lying either; if he
could, he'd never eat anything else and just live off of Stiles' come for the
rest of his life. Unfortunately, the teen might just shrivel up and die of
dehydration if he tried. Shaking himself out of that thought, he backs away a
couple of paces when Stiles reaches for the zipper of his jeans, no doubt
wanting to return the favour. "Don't worry about me." He smiles reassuringly,
he head finally beginning to protest the loud music.
Seeing that Stiles also appears to be losing energy fast—probably caused by his
recent orgasm—Derek does the teen's jeans up for him before pulling him with a
gentle hand through the crowd. He's on the lookout for any other member of the
pack, intent on letting at least one of them know that they're leaving before
they actually do so to avoid anyone worrying.
After a minute of searching, Derek catches sight of flaming red hair a few feet
in front of him. Pushing through the last bodies between himself and Stiles and
who he guesses is Charlie, he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds the girl
leaning against the wall at the edge of the dance floor.
Derek's relief quickly turns to confusion and embarrassment when he sees that
she's not alone. Cora is there as well, and apparently he's just walked in on a
rather private moment. The girls' mouths remain locked together for a second
before Cora's eyes open, staring directly at him for a moment. He coughs
awkwardly when they separate. "Umm, I just wanted to let someone know that
Stiles and I are heading home now, so...yeah," he mumbles, unable to look his
sister in the eye. Without another word, he turns tail and strides away, Stiles
still clinging to his hand and being dragged along behind him.
"Well, that was interesting," Stiles comments casually when he and Derek
finally find the club's exit. The cold night air feels incredibly refreshing on
his overheated skin.
"Let's not talk about it, OK?" Derek asks, a small hint of revulsion still in
his voice. He doesn't ever want to see his sister in a position like that
again, though he guesses that there is one upside to the whole spectacle—he no
longer has to worry about Charlie coming between him and Stiles in any way,
unprompted though that worry may have been. He steers a drunken Stiles down the
street, heading in the direction of the car. The teen weaves across the
pavement in a childlike manner, which he tells himself he absolutely does not
find endearing in the slightest. When they finally reach the Camaro, he goes to
open the passenger door for Stiles, only to turn and find that his mate is
staring up at the sky with wonder in his wide eyes. "Stiles?"
Distracted, Stiles doesn't hear Derek talking to him until the man places a
hand on his shoulder and tries to get him into the car again. "The moon's so
big!" he exclaims, pointing up at the large, white sphere. It's only half
complete, and this reminds him that there's another full moon in a week's time.
He wonders if the strange pull he feels in that moment is anything like what
Derek experiences.
Following Stiles' finger, Derek joins his mate in marvelling at how large the
moon looks in the sky. It's unusual; he doesn't remember hearing anywhere that
it would be that big.
Derek's wolf paces inside of his head at the sight, full of anxious and excited
energy. It's been years since he lost control, and he doesn't even really feel
it that much on the night now that he's mated to Stiles. He supposes that their
bond helps to calm him, and even when he does get restless on those rare
occasions, he has other, much more enjoyable ways of expending that energy.
When the moon disappears behind a cloud, Derek finally breaks free of his
staring and attempts for a third time to wrangle his mate into his car. Stiles
seems much more cooperative this time, thankfully, batting his hands away when
he tries to do up the teen's seatbelt for him. He holds his palms out
apologetically before backing away, shutting the passenger-side door and
getting in behind the wheel. Even with the late hour, the streets in that part
of town are quite busy, so he has to navigate between the other cars and
pedestrians carefully to avoid accidentally damaging his own. The further they
get out of the town, the quieter things become, until the Camaro's headlights
are the only light source on the roads. Glancing over at Stiles, Derek is a
little shocked that the teen appears to still be awake; he thought for sure
that he'd be carrying him up to bed again, not that he'd mind. Their house
looks peaceful when he comes to stop in front of it, Stiles' new car shining
brightly in the light before he shuts off the engine and plunges them into
darkness.
Derek uses his preternatural eyesight to usher Stiles in through the front door
and up the stairs. He leaves the teen to get ready for bed while he retrieves
some water from the bathroom, bringing it to his mate before he can actually
slip beneath the covers. "Drink this," he instructs with a raised eyebrow.
Gulping down the water, Stiles smacks his lips after he's finished and hands
the glass back to Derek. He sighs happily when he's finally allowed to flop
back against the pillows, wiggling in place to get more comfortable. His
efforts are quickly thwarted when Derek swipes the sheets out from underneath
his body and climbs in beside him, though he doesn't complain when the alpha
immediately covers them both and snuggles up close beside him. "Mmm, snuggly
wolf..." he mumbles, nuzzling his face into the middle of Derek's furry chest.
"Snuggly, cuddly wolf..." His hand grips the waistband of Derek's boxer-briefs
as his eyes quickly slip closed, the alcohol still in his system helping him
fall asleep at record speed.
For his part, Derek just lies there and lets Stiles use him as a pillow. He
shakes his head fondly at the teen's quiet words, wondering how he landed
himself with such a dork. He wouldn't have it any other way.
                                     * * *
- Sunday, August 26th, 2012 -
Surprisingly, Stiles wakes up without a single problem the next morning. His
head doesn't so much as twinge once when he sits up in bed, though his throat
does feel a little dry. He makes a quick trip to bathroom before heading
downstairs to get a glass a water to the fix the problem, the cold liquid going
down smooth and settling in his stomach, giving him a nice full feeling. A
relaxed smile appears on his lips when he traipses through to the living room
and sees all of the decorations from his surprise party yesterday remain hung
up around the walls, his presents still piled on top of the coffee table. He
pulls on the wolf hoodie before beginning to sort through the rest, putting
them in the places around the house he guesses he'll get the most use out of
them. The apron replaces his old, slightly frayed one in the kitchen, and he
makes a mental note to donate it to a charity shop or something whenever he
finds the time, since it still has some use in it.
The shoes get put by the front door, the hunting knives go down in the
basement, and the bestiary and video games up to the third floor. Stiles takes
the rest of it upstairs. He shakes his head and chuckles quietly to himself
when he shoves the dildo and handcuffs Danny had given him into one of the
drawers in the dresser, joining the butt plug Derek said he'd bought weeks ago.
They're starting quite the collection, it seems, and he wonders with a thrill
what else they could get in the future.
Speaking of Derek, the alpha shows no signs of waking, lying on his stomach
right in the middle of the bed. Stiles thinks that just won't do. He jumps up
on the mattress and flops down right on top of his mate's back, getting
amusement out of the way Derek's body tenses up immediately beneath him.
"You've got to stop doing that..." Derek complains, his voice muffled in the
pillow. Turning over onto his back—and rolling Stiles off of him in the
process—he rubs at his eyes tiredly before sitting up and sliding out of bed,
intent on getting ready for his usual Sunday morning workout. Stiles walks
downstairs with him, though they part ways when they get to the door that leads
down into the basement. He presses a quick kiss to the teen's cheek before
descending the steps, leaving his mate to do whatever he wants. He thinks he
can hear pots and pans being moved around overhead, from what he guesses is the
direction of the kitchen, so he comes to the conclusion that Stiles is going to
be taking care of breakfast that morning.
After a while, still on the ground floor, Stiles starts to feel restless. He
has all of this pent-up energy and nothing to pour it into, and he's left
standing in the middle of the kitchen for a couple of minutes as he wonders
what he can do about it.
It's then that Stiles remembers what he'd promised Derek after he'd finished
taking his new car for a spin the previous afternoon. He smiles to himself.
Leaving the food to cool on the stove—they can reheat it later—Stiles grabs a
bottle of water from the fridge and exits the kitchen before going to join
Derek in the basement.
Like he was expecting, quiet grunting and laboured breathing reaches Stiles'
ears as he descends the stairs, the sight that greets him taking his breath
away.
Derek's back is facing Stiles as he does pull-ups on a bar that's screwed high
between two pillars. The mirrors that line the far wall allow him to see
absolutely everything. His mate is shirtless, wearing nothing but the pair of
basketball shorts that has become so familiar to him in the time they've been
together.
Playful hazel eyes meet his immediately in the reflection, and Stiles tries to
look as innocent as possible as he approaches the man. "Don't mind me... Just
k-keep doing your thing," he stutters, his brain not functioning properly again
yet. All of Derek's muscles bulge obscenely when he pulls himself up again, his
chin easily reaching the bar. Stiles feels a trail of drool leak out from the
corner of his mouth, and he reaches up to wipe it away absentmindedly as he
continues staring. He resolutely ignores the way Derek is smirking at him in
the mirror, not at all embarrassed at how obviously he's checking the man out.
It's his prerogative as his mate, after all.
Sweat drips down Derek's back as the man carries on doing his pull-ups, and
Stiles is unable to look away as a trail of it runs over all of the bumps of
shifting muscle. It flows into the dip of the alpha's spine, running down the
long length of tanned skin before disappearing below the waistband of his
shorts. He wants to get closer and lick the trail away, to follow the lines of
black ink with his tongue and taste every inch of glistening skin.
"Are you gonna actually do something or are you just gonna stand there and
stare?"
The sudden question snaps Stiles out of his ogling, and he blinks dumbly at
Derek's reflection before holding up the bottle of water he still has clutched
in his hand. He's squeezing it pretty damn hard, he's so turned on, his fingers
digging into the plastic to the point where he's actually afraid he might pop
the top off and spray water all over the floor.
With one last pull-up, Derek releases the bar from his hands and drops
gracefully to the floor, feeling a satisfying burn in the muscles of his arms
from his workout as he walks over to Stiles. He accepts the water gratefully,
chugging it down and emptying the bottle in a matter of seconds. A little bit
of it spills out around his mouth, but he doesn't mind. The cold liquid feels
good as it runs down his body, mixing with the sweat on his skin and helping to
cool him down again. "Thanks," he gasps when he pulls the bottle away from his
mouth, his eyes zeroing in on the obvious tent in Stiles' underwear. "See
something you like?"
Derek chuckles when Stiles blushes bright red and looks down, breaking eye
contact. Screwing the cap back on, he puts the empty bottle on the small table
by the stairs to put in the recycling bin later.
Getting an idea as he watches Derek walk over to the weight bench, Stiles
intercepts the alpha before he can get into position. He keeps his mate
standing by wrapping his hands around his bare hips, leaning in close to his
ear and rubbing their cheeks together. The burn of Derek's stubble against his
own smooth skin is definitely something he can get on board with.
Standing this close together, enveloped now in Derek's musky scent, Stiles'
cock twitches in the confines of his underwear as a drop of pre-come leaks from
the slit, dampening the fabric noticeably. "I believe there's something I said
I would do yesterday that I have yet to follow through on, involving this..."
he breathes, reaching around Derek's body and palming his hand over his mate's
still-flaccid cock. He enjoys the way the alpha seems so affected by his words,
a soft gasp falling from Derek's lips as he remembers what he's talking about.
"I still have to thank you properly for your oh-so-generous gift, and if I
remember correctly, I think I promised that I would 'ride your brains out'? You
want that, want me to slide down on your huge cock and milk all your come out?"
"God, yes..." Derek pants, his breath already coming out fast and sharp again.
It amazes him how Stiles can go from being teased to the one doing the teasing
in the blink of an eye, and his wolf howls with approval in his head at the
idea of their mate taking charge for once. It's rare that it happens, but he
loves it every time.
Releasing the bulge of Derek's cock from his hold, Stiles fits his fingertips
around the waistband of the alpha's basketball shorts and yanks them down,
allowing them to fall to the floor where their owner steps out of them.
Stiles' mouth drops open again when he steps back and sees what Derek is
wearing underneath. The jockstrap doesn't look particularly new, and he wonders
how it is that he's never seen it before. The straps frame Derek's hair-dusted
cheeks perfectly, the light grey elastic hugging the backs of the alpha's
thighs and making his ass look even more pert than it usually does. "Damn..."
he sighs, his breath blowing out warm across Derek's shoulder, making the man
shiver in response. His cups a hand around one of his mate's perfect cheeks and
uses the other to push him down and forward so that he's kneeling and leaning
over the bench, his ass sticking out invitingly. Slithering down to the floor
himself, he leans in close to where Derek's cheeks part and licks a long line
up the crack.
Derek lets out a pleasured groan as he feels Stiles' slick tongue slip between
his cheeks the slightest bit, just grazing his hole. The sound morphs into
something more frustrated when the organ moves on before any proper stimulation
can be had.
"Fucking love your ass," Stiles whispers, his voice awed. Using his hands, he
parts Derek's cheeks and feels his eyes grow hooded with lust at the sight with
which he's greeted. The alpha's tight little hole twitches in anticipation, the
muscles of his cheeks flexing beneath his palms. Leaning in close, he runs his
nose up and down the crack, the tip catching on Derek's hole each time and
making the man grunt above him. "You should sit on my face every time you're
done with a workout, 'cause God damn...you smell so fucking amazing."
When Stiles finally attacks his ass properly with his tongue, Derek pants out
his pleasure against the padded bench, resting his forehead against it and
gripping the edges with his hands. Stiles' tongue feels amazing gliding over
his hole, pausing every now and then to prod at the tight muscle. He tries his
best to relax so that the tip slips in further each time, sighing in
satisfaction when his hole finally gives way and he feels the slick muscle
invade his ass deep. Blunt nails dig into his cheeks as Stiles goes crazy,
eating him out like a starving man. His cock fills out inside his jockstrap,
but when he goes to reach down and release it, Stiles knocks his hand away.
Whining quietly at the denial, he hunches over a bit further so that his
erection rubs against the bench through the soft fabric, which also pushes his
ass back against his mate's face with every movement of his hips.
Derek cries out when a hand comes down on his ass unexpectedly, the sudden
spark of pain making his now-hard cock twitch and leak a large bead of pre-
come, staining the fabric of his jock dark. "Fuck!" he yells when Stiles spanks
him again.
"So fucking hot inside...like a furnace," Stiles gasps when he pulls back to
refill his lungs. Every time his hands come down on Derek's cheeks, the tight
ring of muscle around his tongue clenches down and grips him hard, almost like
it's unwilling to let him go. He fucks his mate's hairy hole with his tongue,
shoving it in and out at a rapid pace and listening to the various sounds that
spill from the alpha's mouth.
Having never really thought he'd enjoy getting his ass spanked during sex, the
whole thing feels like a revelation for Derek. There really does seem to be an
endless slew of new kinks that his time with Stiles is bringing out in him, and
he really looks forward to exploring each and every one of them thoroughly. His
legs grow weak when he feels the teen slide a finger in alongside his tongue,
the slender digit going deep and stroking along all of his virginal walls. He's
never really gotten to appreciate the sensation before, because he's been on
the brink of coming every time Stiles' fingers have gotten adventurous in the
past. He definitely likes it, especially when the pad rubs across his prostate
and makes him yell hoarsely into the padded surface of the bench.
Stiles keeps up his attack on Derek's ass for seemingly forever, adding a
second and third finger and making sure to pay close attention to that special
bundle of nerves inside. The way Derek's hips begin to falter as he pushes back
into him tells Stiles that the man must be on the brink of losing it, so he
redoubles his efforts to finally push his mate over the edge.
With a particularly rough drag of fingers over his prostate, Derek's orgasm
crests and his hips grind down into the bench, rubbing his covered cock against
the smooth surface as he spurts long and hard in the confines of his jock.
Stiles fucks him through it with his fingers, the constant stimulation of his
prostate prolonging the pleasure until it reaches heights he never before
thought were possible. His teeth bite into the bench with such force that they
actually pierce the material, his eyes clenched shut as he whines through it
all.
When his orgasm finally eases off and his brain comes back to him, Derek thinks
that he definitely understands now why Stiles seems so out of it after he's
done pounding his ass. He winces a little bit when the teen finally withdraws
his fingers, curling the tips a little so that they pull against the ring of
muscle before leaving entirely.
"You should see yourself," Stiles whispers, entranced by the sight of Derek's
loosened hole. If this is what he looks like to the alpha every time they make
love, he gets his mate's obsession. Granted, what he's seeing probably isn't
nearly as extreme as what his own hole looks like after being knotted, gaping
wide as thick come leaks out and runs down his crack, but it's a very erotic
sight, nevertheless. The dark hairs around Derek's hole are matted down with
his spit, and he can't resist running the pad of his index finger in circles
around it. He watches the way they shift under his touch and the hole itself
quivers, clenching back up tight again before relaxing, opening wide like it's
winking up at him. The rim looks red and used, so he leans forward again to
lick it and soothe the ache he knows must have settled there with his tongue.
With one last slap of his hand against Derek's muscled, hair-dusted cheek, he
shuffles backward a bit and stands, pulling the alpha up with him and spinning
him around.
Since Derek doesn't seem to have recovered completely from his orgasm yet,
Stiles guides the man over to the thick mat in the middle of the floor and
helps him lie down atop it, on his back. Kneeling next to his mate, he hooks
his fingers under the waistband of Derek's jockstrap and pulls it down,
marvelling at the wetness that's revealed.
The alpha's soft cock and balls are all slathered in a nice layer of warm come.
The jock itself is no different, the pouch soaked in the stuff, and Stiles
groans deeply to himself when he holds it up to his face and breathes in the
heady scent of it.
"I'm such a fucking slut for your come, it's ridiculous... Wanna taste you all
the time," Stiles blurts before taking the material in his mouth. He sucks the
thick, milky fluid from the jock, his eyes boring right into Derek's as the
alpha stares up at him in fascination. When the last trace of his mate's come
is gone, he turns his head to the side and spits the jock from his mouth, not
caring where it lands.
Still clad in his underwear and tawny wolf hoodie, Stiles moves forward and
pushes Derek's legs apart so he can fit comfortably between them. Leaning down,
he positions himself so that his face hovers mere inches above the alpha's
crotch and blows a soft breath over the come-covered skin, smirking when the
flaccid cock twitches and begins to plump up in response. After waiting until
it reaches full hardness again, he uses his tongue to clean as much of the come
off of his mate's erection as he can, moaning quietly to himself the entire
time. He swirls each strip he licks up around his mouth and savours it, never
able to get enough.
When the soft skin of Derek's cock is shining with just his saliva, Stiles
moves lower, nosing into the alpha's thick pubic hair and inhaling the musky
scent of sweat and come gathered there. He thinks he can detect a little piss
as well, and that realisation shouldn't turn him on as much as it does.
Going even further down, Stiles mouths at Derek's heavy balls, still so full
even though he's only just come. One of these days, he's going to make the man
knot his hand and watch as he shoots everything all over his own hairy body. He
bets himself that even with all of that come, it still won't be enough to
satisfy his appetite for the stuff. The hairs on Derek's balls tickle his nose
as he snuffles into the sweat-damp skin, flicking the tip of his tongue behind
them to the taint and tasting the salt gathered there.
When his lungs protest the lack of air, Stiles finally draws back and moves
forward to straddle Derek's thighs. Leaning down with his hands pressed to his
mate's pectorals, he allows his fingers to tangle in the alpha's chest hair,
looking down and admiring the way the dark hairs contrast with the pale skin of
his fingers. "You shouldn't ever shower again," he suggests huskily, grinning
devilishly down at Derek when he gets a series of confused blinks in response.
"Should just come to me and let me lick your sweaty body clean with my
tongue... Mmm, yeah, I'd love that. Now, let's test out that werewolf
refractory period, shall we?" He slips off his underwear as smoothly as he can
and tosses them aside to join Derek's jockstrap before moving into position.
Holding his fingers up to his mate's mouth, he waits for the man to open up
before pushing them past his lips, his eyes growing dark when he feels a slick
tongue swirl around the digits and soak him with spit.
His fingers amply coated, Stiles pulls them out again before reaching back and
shoving them without preamble into his ass, stretching himself open to take
Derek's considerable girth deep inside. He's not gentle, desperate to get that
full feeling he loves so much.
After he's able to fit a third finger inside of his own ass without too much
pain, Stiles spits in his palm and slicks up Derek's cock before holding the
tip at his entrance. The initial penetration is a little tougher than it
usually is, but he pushes through it, not stopping until he's sunk down the
entire length and his ass rests in the cradle of Derek's hips.
Derek groans loudly as his cock is sheathed in the tight grip of Stiles' hole.
His head tips back and his eyes close, his mouth open wide as his hands move to
grab the teen's sides and hold him in place. If he thought he'd get some
modicum of control now that he's inside his mate, he's quickly proven wrong.
Not quite finished with being in charge yet, Stiles rips Derek's hands from his
hips and pushes them up to rest above the alpha's head, holding them there with
his own for a couple of seconds as he stares heatedly down into his surprised
face. "You're not allowed to touch me, at all," he instructs, letting go of
Derek's hands and resuming his earlier position, his legs curled up either side
of the alpha's strong body. "Seriously, if you move your hands from there at
any time during this, I'm gonna stop. Is that what you want?"
Stiles smirks when Derek quickly shakes his head and releases a frightened
whine. "That's what I thought. So, stay there like a good mate and just
concentrate on how my ass feels around you, OK?"
Wiggling in place a little bit to test his position, Stiles waits until he's
satisfied to start moving, slowly using his legs to push himself up. He bites
his lip as he feels the long length of Derek's cock leave his body, the quiet
mewl he was trying to keep inside slipping out finally when he sinks back down.
He keeps up a slow rhythm, getting payback for all of the times Derek has done
the same to him.
Stiles makes the whole thing about bringing Derek pleasure, not caring at all
that the alpha's cock isn't at the right angle to hit his prostate every time
their skin slaps together. He simply gazes down at his mate's face as his
expression becomes almost anguished, watching the way he falls apart beneath
him with awe. Derek's face quickly becomes red and sweaty again, his eyes
rolling back in his head when Stiles squeezes his ass down deliberately around
his thick cock. "Who's my good alpha?" he coos, leaning forward a little and
resting his hands either side of Derek's arms, their faces close together. "You
gonna shift for me? Let me see my wolf in all his glory?" The man's tortured
expression clears at these words, his eyes blinking open to stare up at him.
A salacious grin appears on Stiles' lips when he sees Derek comply with his
request, his sideburns growing, his brow becoming more prominent and his eyes
glowing the blood red that never fails to arouse him.
"There's my beautiful Sourwolf..." Stiles whispers, stroking a hand down the
side of Derek's face and loving the way the coarse hairs tickle his palm. He
closes the distance between them so their mouths meet, shoving his tongue in
deep and revelling in the shocked groan he gets in return. Derek's fangs bite
into his lips as they battle for dominance, but for once, he doesn't back down
and let the alpha take the lead.
Stiles kisses with all he's worth, feeling a sense of exhilaration when Derek
eases off after a minute and lets him take the lead. He tightens his ass again
as a sort of reward before breaking away, levering himself back up on his arms
and locking his elbows to stare down at his mate's shifted face. After an
eternity of just looking into each other's eyes, Stiles begins to move faster,
pushing himself up with his legs before shoving back down, his ass burning from
the lack of proper lube. His cock doesn't care, though, still rigid and
slapping down audibly against Derek's stomach every time he fills himself with
the alpha's thick length. Eventually, he's not able to keep his legs working
with the muscles of his thighs protesting, aching with the effort of lifting
his weight time and again. To remedy this, he fits his hands over Derek's
pectorals again and holds his hips up so that they hover a few inches above the
alpha's body, his cock only sheathed halfway.
"Alrighty, Sourwolf, you're still not allowed to use your hands, but have at
me!" he commands, almost falling forward and bashing his nose into Derek's
collarbone when the alpha immediately plants his feet on the mat and snaps his
hips up, fucking him brutally.
The new angle causes the swollen head of Derek's cock to shove right up against
Stiles' prostate on every thrust. It's not long until he feels his orgasm
approaching, his cock getting even harder as he wraps a hand around the base to
stave it off. He can tell that Derek is getting close, too, by listening to
harsh breaths and choked whimpers falling from his lips every time their bodies
slap together.
"You gonna come for me, Der? Gonna knot me and fill me up with your come until
I'm bursting with your pups?" he gasps, being bounced around wildly now on
Derek's lap. He has no problem with using his mate's kinks against him to get
him over the edge. In fact, to really drive the point home, he leans down until
their faces are inches apart, Derek's warm breaths puffing out across his face.
"I want that, too, Sourwolf. Wanna be so full of you I can't even speak. I can
never get enough; I could have you inside me all day, every day and it still
wouldn't even be close. If I could, I'd hang myself from your knot for the rest
of my life and take all the come you've got for me, knock myself up until my
stomach is so swollen with you that there's no room left, and still I'd keep on
going."
Derek stares up at Stiles' face with wonder, the dirty words spewing forth from
the teen's mouth stoking the fire burning in his gut and making his balls draw
up close to his body, ready to burst. With one last thrust, he pumps his hips
up and cries out when his knot slips past the tight ring of muscle, his cock
locking itself inside the silky heat.
Still holding off his own orgasm with a hand clamped around the base of his
rock-hard cock, Stiles stares at the blissful expression on Derek's face and
takes in every single detail. His mate has never looked more beautiful than he
does in that moment, shattering to pieces beneath him.
Stiles can feel warmth filling him up as Derek spurts rope after rope of thick
come inside his ass, a low groan slipping out at the sensation of being so full
of his mate. He's quickly growing addicted to it. Cautiously, he finally
releases his grip around his cock, the constant pressure of the alpha's knot
against his prostate threatening to tip him over the edge at any second before
he's ready. He tries not to move too much to avoid jostling the length inside
his ass, Derek's chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his hands as his wolf
catches his breath. It's only when his mate comes back to himself, his eyes
opening half-mast and staring up at him, that Stiles pushes himself up again so
that his back is straight, his hand flying quickly over his achingly hard
length and his hips moving in little circles back on Derek's knot. It doesn't
take long for the pleasure to build and tip over, and when it does, he throws
his head back with his mouth open wide as he shoots all over the alpha's chest.
After almost a minute of coming down from his high, Stiles slumps over and
releases his hold on his spent cock, his breath coming back to him slowly. When
he opens his eyes again, he notices that several strands of his come have
landed right in Derek's left armpit.
Finding the sight too tempting to pass up, Stiles grins fiendishly down at
Derek before diving in, flicking his tongue out and running it in stripes along
his mate's dark, sweaty armpit hair. He doesn't swallow anything, choosing
instead to gather all the come he can get on his tongue. It mixes with the salt
of Derek's sweat into a delicious concoction, and his enthusiasm ramps up a
couple of notches when he feels the alpha's fingers tangle in the hair at the
back of his head, urging him on.
It's only after he pulls back and sees that Derek's armpit has been licked
clean that Stiles ceases his assault, giving the dark hair one last lick before
connecting their mouths. He pushes the mixture of come and sweat into Derek's
waiting mouth, groaning quietly when he feels the man suck on his tongue
greedily.
When the kiss comes to its natural end, Stiles nuzzles sideways so that his
nose ends up pressed into the side of Derek's neck. "What I said before
probably wouldn't turn out to be a half-bad idea, you know," Stiles says after
a few minutes, breaking the contented silence that has fallen over the room.
"You should totally let me take care of you when you finish a workout... Would
be so damn hot..." He licks his lips a couple of times and smiles to himself
when the body beneath his shakes gently with silent laughter. "Don't knock my
kinks, Mr. Breedy McBreederson, you big dummy. Your armpits are hot; deal with
it."
"I'm not knocking your kinks, love... While I do have to admit I was unsure
about it at first, it actually doesn't feel that bad when you really get
going," Derek mumbles, the lower half of his face pressed into the top of
Stiles' head. "Plus, I like knowing I'm turning you on. You have my express
permission to go to town whenever you want." He plans on wearing nothing but
tank tops in the future to tease his wonderfully kinky mate.
"Like I needed your permission..." Stiles sighs happily, his eyes closing. He
wiggles in place slightly to get more comfortable when Derek finally lowers his
arms and wraps them around his body, the come still drying between their chests
threatening to stick them together. He doesn't care.
***** Payback *****
Derek lies on his back on the soft mat for a long time, content with having
Stiles' weight pressing him down into the floor. They don't speak, relaxing
into a blissful silence as they just enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking.
Eventually, though, Derek starts to feel a little restless. Before his knot can
go down and allow his come to slip out around his cock, he stands awkwardly and
lifts Stiles in his arms, carrying the teen up to their bedroom. He retrieves
their butt plug from the dresser and holds it at the ready, sliding it inside
of his mate's sloppy hole to keep the teen full with him as soon as his knot
deflates. His wolf rumbles approvingly in his chest at the thought of Stiles
allowing him to get away with something like that, but he just takes it as
another sign that he lucked out in the mate department.
They shower together afterward—Stiles limping awkwardly through to the
bathroom—with the excuse that they're simply conserving water, still a little
lost in their post-coital haze as they soap up each other's bodies.
Derek reluctantly stands still and allows Stiles to play with his hair, his
mate styling it into bizarre styles with the frothy shampoo while he himself
just glares at the wall over the teen's shoulder. He's standing out of the
spray, so when the water on his skin begins to dry, making him cold, he finally
grabs Stiles' hands when the teen goes to change up his hair again, resuming
the cleansing of his body.
Seeing an opportunity and intending to get his own back for his perceived
humiliation, when Stiles turns around to wash the shampoo from his own hair,
Derek reaches down and sharply twists the plug in the teen's ass, smirking at
the outraged squeal he gets in return. "What? Is there a problem?" he asks when
Stiles collects himself again and smacks him hard in the centre of his chest,
making his eyes as wide and innocent-looking as possible. The teen just huffs
with irritation before turning off the water and stepping out onto the tiled
floor, grabbing a towel from the wall and beginning to dry himself off.
Thinking that his mate being mad at him just won't do, he tiptoes out of the
stall as well and waits until Stiles is swathed up in the fluffy towel before
making his move.
Derek presses himself up against the teen's back and wraps him up tightly in
his arms, lifting him off of his feet a little bit and peppering the back of
his neck with kisses.
Stiles kicks his legs wildly, laughing loudly as Derek's lips tickle his
sensitive skin. "OK, I give, I give! Now put me down!" he gasps, tears
beginning to spring to his eyes both from his mirth and the lack of oxygen in
his lungs. When Derek finally does as he says, he rounds on the alpha and
sighs. "How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you're this fucking
adorable?" He shakes his head.
"You're not; that's the point," Derek replies, smiling smugly before grabbing
his own towel. He gets distracted from his drying when Stiles walks out of the
room, watching the way the teen's ass moves with every step with rapt
attention, the black plastic just visible between the pale cheeks.
Derek snaps himself out of his gawking when Stiles disappears around the
doorframe, dropping his now-damp towel into the laundry hamper and moving to
join his mate in the bedroom. Stiles is already dressed, doing up the last of
the buttons on his pale pink shirt. He recognises it as the one he'd picked out
for the teen when they were out shopping one day in New York City. It's only
when he's stood in front of their dresser himself that he notices something is
amiss. Glancing between his chest and the ceramic bowl where he usually keeps
what little jewellery he owns, he frowns when he doesn't find his triskelion
necklace anywhere. He does a quick survey of the floor just to make sure it
didn't accidentally fall down there at some point, but his confusion only grows
when he still finds no trace of it. He definitely didn't have it on him when he
started his workout. "That's weird..." he mutters, irritation with himself
growing in his gut.
Immediately detecting the annoyed tone of Derek's voice, Stiles hops up from
where he'd been lounging on the bed and heads over to join the alpha. "What
is?" he asks, not picking up on what's wrong right away. It's not until Derek
points to the bowl that he gets a vague idea.
"The necklace you got me for my birthday isn't here," Derek explains, his
frustration quickly melting away to sadness. "It must've fallen off at some
point last night and I just didn't feel it..." He berates himself internally,
blaming himself for losing it and knowing that there's little to no chance of
him ever getting it back. "I'm so sorry. I know that must've cost you a lot..."
He feels terrible, not just because it's something that Stiles obviously took a
lot of time to pick out for him, but because he'd really grown to love the
thing.
"Hey, it's OK," Stiles assures, reaching up and running his fingers through
Derek's hair in an effort to comfort the man. He can easily read his mate's
downtrodden expression and knows instantly where his mind has gone. "It's not
your fault, Sourwolf... These things happen; if I had a dollar for every time
I've lost something someone has given me, I'd probably have about as much money
as you do by now. It shouldn't be too difficult to get a replacement anyway, so
don't worry about it." When he sees that Derek looks marginally better than he
did before, he pushes up on his tiptoes and kisses the man chastely on the
forehead before stepping away again. "OK, how about we forget this for now and
just go downstairs to enjoy the lovely breakfast I made for us before I
accosted you in the basement?" With that, he leaves the room and goes down the
stairs, walking straight into the kitchen to start reheating the food still on
the stove.
When Derek joins him downstairs, Stiles dishes up the oatmeal he's made into
two bowls and sets them in their usual places around the kitchen island.
"So...yesterday was fun," he comments offhandedly after he consumes his first
spoonful. "I didn't know you had those moves in you."
Smirking around his own spoon, Derek snorts and thinks back to the previous
evening as well, recalling how good it had felt to let go of all his worries
and just enjoy himself for once. He didn't really have much time to mess around
like that in his late teens and early twenties, as bogged down by guilt as he
was back then, so getting to do it now, while a little strange, feels good.
Even though he prefers to act as if he's more mature than his pack—since he's
their alpha, he thinks he should be—there's still the odd time when he gets
caught up in their silliness and finds himself acting like a reckless teenager
again.
"I told you I've been to clubs before, Stiles..." Derek mumbles eventually,
scraping the bottom of his bowl before checking the saucepan to see if there's
more. He goes for seconds. "What, did you expect me to just stand at the
sidelines and glare at everybody the whole night?"
"Basically, yes," Stiles replies simply, not at all surprised when Derek ends
up polishing off all the leftover oatmeal without even checking to see whether
he wanted more himself. Luckily, he didn't. "Can you really blame me, though?
With how grumpy you usually get whenever the pack becomes a
little...rambunctious, it wasn't exactly like my expectations were that far out
of left field. I'm glad I was wrong, though; it was nice seeing you having fun
with everyone for once instead of just being the stoic alpha, watching from
afar." He puts the dirty dishes and cutlery straight into the dishwasher right
as his phone beeps in his pocket. Pulling it out, he groans when he sees the
message that flashes up on the screen, a reminder from Deaton not to forget
their next training session that evening. He was hoping the man would be the
one to let it slip his mind.
Conceding Stiles' point, Derek stands and stretches his arms above his head,
turning his torso from side to side so that his spine cracks audibly. He only
looks a little ashamed when Stiles glances at him in disgust. "What's with the
face?" he asks when he notices the way the teen returns to glaring down at his
phone.
"It's just from Deaton, telling me not to forget that we're supposed to meet up
again later..." Stiles sighs as he locks his phone and leaves it on the kitchen
island. He's thankful to the man for allowing the session to be pushed back a
day so that he could celebrate his birthday in peace, don't get him wrong. He
just wishes Deaton didn't sound so condescending about everything.
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Derek comforts, easily able to read Stiles'
expression. When he gets up from his stool and heads into the hallway, he
pauses when he notices that he can smell a faint trace of their previous
activities coming from the basement. Frowning, he walks down a couple steps and
finds that the scent gets stronger as he goes. He must not have noticed how
overpowering it was earlier because he'd gotten used to it, but because he's
now fresh from the shower, he can smell that it permeates the air completely
down in the gym. He guesses the betas are going to have an interesting time if
any of them come around the house that day to make use of the equipment. He
hears footsteps behind him and turns to find that Stiles has followed him, the
teen's noise raised in the air before he realises what the smell he can detect
is.
His cheeks turning red almost instantly, Stiles clears his throat awkwardly and
scratches at the back of his head. "Hmm, maybe we should try and clean up a
little bit in here, huh?" he asks quietly, his gaze landing on the mat they
made love on about an hour ago. Patches of sweat and come can still be seen
drying on its blue surface.
Derek opens all of the small windows set into the tops of the walls to let some
fresh air in while Stiles retrieves cleaning supplies from the cupboard under
the sink in the kitchen. "This place should probably get cleaned more often
anyway," he points out when the teen reenters the room.
"True, but I don't really have the time. I would make the betas do it after
they're done using all of the equipment, but we both know they'd do a crap job
of it..." Stiles replies, kneeling down next to the mat and spraying it with
the bottle of cleaner in his hand. He scrubs at the sweat and come stains with
a damp towel until they disappear. After spraying some air freshener around the
room and picking up his and Derek's old clothes from where they'd been tossed
carelessly on the floor, he joins Derek by the bottom of the stairs and follows
the alpha back up to the ground floor. He dangles the jock strap over his
wolf's face when the man flops down lengthways along the sofa, lying on his
back with his hands crossed over his stomach. "Seriously, how long have you had
this? Because if you've had it for a while, I'm gonna punch you for keeping it
from me for so long."
Waving the jock away with a hand, Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' words. "I've
had it for a while, yes, but I wasn't keeping it from you; I thought you knew
about it," he excuses, closing his eyes and settling in for a nice nap. His
plan is ruined when Stiles drops the sweat- and come-soiled jock right on his
face.
                                     * * *
When the clock strikes eight that evening, Stiles groans from where he's
sitting on the living room sofa and throws himself sideways, landing with a
soft thump in Derek's lap. "Kill me now..." he whines into the fabric of the
alpha's jeans, breathing out a long sigh. He pushes automatically into Derek's
hand when he feels it come rest on top of his head, snuffling closer and
growing even more reluctant to move. The two of them had been binge-watching
some more Friends at his insistence, a satisfied smirk staying on his face
nearly the whole time when he'd overheard Derek let out the odd chuckle at the
shenanigans the six main characters got up to on the television screen.
Feeling Derek shift, no doubt in preparation to get ready to leave, Stiles
grudgingly rolls sideways off of his wolf's lap, landing in a clumsy heap in
the small space between the sofa and coffee table. When he doesn't make to get
up on his own, Derek wedges his hands under his arms and drags him to his feet
instead. He ignores the alpha's quiet mumble of how much of a pain in the ass
he is sometimes.
The sudden change in altitude makes Stiles' head spin a little, so he leans
into his mate while he waits for his equilibrium to return. "OK, let's get this
over with..." he grimaces, shaking off the last remnants of tiredness before
following Derek to the front door to put on his shoes.
As much as he still wants to continue working under Deaton's tutelage, Stiles
is anxious to get past this current stage of 'vision training'—a name he came
up with himself—and move on to something different. He longs for the days,
which will hopefully be in the near future, when the vet begins teaching him
how to cast spells and work his magic in different, more exciting ways. Seeing
all the potential futures is an interesting concept, but when put into
practice, he doesn't think it's actually that good of an experience. He drives
this time instead of Derek, happy to get behind the wheel of his new car again.
It's still as thrilling as it had been the first time, and the fact that it's
late and not many other vehicles are out on the roads allows him to feel
comfortable pushing his foot down a little harder on the pedal, racing along
the streets to the clinic. He stays just under the speed limit, though, not
wanting to be pulled over by one of his dad's old deputies.
The light above the clinic's back door shines brightly as Stiles pulls his
Camaro to a stop in one of the many empty parking spaces. Glancing around when
he gets out, he frowns when he notices the absence of any other cars in the
lot, not even Deaton's.
It would be unlike the veterinarian to be late, though if he is, Stiles is
going to call the man out on being hypocritical after the lecture he was given
when he and Derek weren't on time for his first session out by the Nemeton.
Checking the time on his phone, he sees that they still have a few minutes to
wait until that day's session is actually supposed to start, so he leans
against his car to do just that.
"I wonder what's taking him so long..." Derek mumbles twenty minutes later,
pacing back and forth in frustration. He doesn't like having his time wasted.
When he glances at Stiles, he sees that the teen is playing some stupid game on
his phone out of boredom, giving him an idea. He walks up to Stiles and
snatches the device right out of his hands, ignoring his mate's squawk of
outrage and tapping through to the contacts to find Deaton's number. He dials
when he sees the older man's name, holding the phone up to his ear and
listening to it ring several times before the voicemail kicks in. After second
and third tries yield the same results, he curses quietly to himself before
finally allowing Stiles to take his phone back. He's about to voice his
concerns that maybe they're not being stood up and that something is actually
wrong when he hears tyres squealing a short distance away. A second car pulls
up a couple of spaces across from them before someone gets out.
Holly looks like she's just been through a tornado or something. Her hair is a
total mess and her breathing his heavy like she just ran a marathon. She looks
up when she hears hurried footsteps approaching, holding a hand up to Derek and
Stiles before they can speak so that she has a chance to catch her breath
again.
"What the hell happened to you? Where's Deaton?" Stiles asks in a rush, helping
the woman stand straight again when she looks ready. He blinks back at her when
she looks at him in confusion, her eyebrows meeting in the centre of her
forehead and the corners of her mouth pulling down.
"You mean he's not here?" Holly replies, looking around the area as if it will
give her answers. She was wondering why the two young men were meandering about
outside of the building instead of already being inside. "Hmm, that's odd..."
Pulling out a key from her pocket, she heads over to the clinic's back door and
unlocks it before stepping through, beckoning Derek and Stiles inside after
her. Once the door is closed again, she searches through all of the rooms,
expecting Deaton to just suddenly appear. Having known the man for years, she's
a little baffled that he wouldn't turn up for something as important as this.
Taking a seat in the examination room like usual, Derek listens to the sounds
of Holly bustling about the place, grunting a little bit when Stiles sits on
his lap instead of getting his own stool. He wraps an arm around the teen's
waist to hold him in place when he keeps fidgeting. When the woman reappears,
his earlier concern increases when he sees that she looks as confused as he
feels.
"You still haven't told us what happened to you; no offence, but you look like
a complete mess," Stiles says carefully, wincing when Holly glares at him
before fixing her hair as best as she can in the reflection of one of the glass
cabinets that line the walls. While he waits for an answer, Stiles glances
around the room and notes with interest that everything looks neat and tidy. No
supplies are laid out in preparation for whatever Deaton had planned for him;
even the remaining stools are in a straight line next to the examination table.
It's clear that no struggle or anything took place there. Wherever Deaton is,
it's unlikely they'll be able to find him if something happened to him unless
he decides to answer his phone. He starts to get honestly worried, thinking
that it would be just typical for life to throw something new at him when
things were just starting to settle down and get good again. Plus, without
Deaton, there's not really much he could do to fight it—if there even is an
'it'—short of throwing fire.
Her hair now looking relatively neat, Holly stops her fussing and turns back to
Derek and Stiles, a small smile appearing on her face when she takes in the way
they're sitting. "To answer your question," she begins, clearing her throat,
"nothing happened to me. I simply overslept."
Well, that's underwhelming, Stiles thinks, a little disappointed that the
reason for Holly's lateness wasn't more exciting. "So, what are we going to do
now?" he asks the woman, wondering whether the session will even go on without
Deaton's presence. Even though he still feels a small amount of distrust for
the man, he'd prefer it if he were there to take the lead like normal.
"I don't know what it is Deaton was planning on teaching you today, Stiles, so
I think it would be best if we stuck to something simple that you'll need to do
eventually anyway," Holly begins, running her eyes speculatively across the
line of cabinets on the wall. She opens one seemingly at random and smiles
proudly to herself as she pulls out several old, very thick books. The pages
are fragile when she opens them one by one across the examination table,
looking like they'll disintegrate into dust if someone so much as blows gently
on them. She gestures for Stiles and Derek to shift closer so they can see what
she's doing. "OK...you're going to go over some of the spells in these
grimoires and familiarise yourself with them. Some of them are good—and you'll
practise performing them at a later time—while the others are dark. You'll only
be learning those ones so you can defend yourself should you ever come across
them."
Stiles groans internally, getting off of Derek's lap slowly and finally getting
his own stool. He pushes it right up against the table and leans his head on
his hand as he begins to read through the first book Holly shoves under his
nose. It's slow going, with his mate perusing the other tomes as he wades
through the boring and overwritten text already in front of him.
The book starts out light. The first half of it focuses on healing magic,
something that perks up Stiles' interest a great deal. He thinks he could put a
lot of the spells written there to good use, especially after a battle. It
varies, from healing human wounds completely to just speeding up the healing
rate of lycanthropes and other supernatural creatures. He's confused about why
someone would want to do that at first before coming to the conclusion that
there's probably good and bad in every supernatural race, just like with
humans. After that, though, it descends into a well of blackness, almost as if
the person who wrote it was slowly being corrupted. There's a whole section on
body modification, which is full of enough crude sketches to fuel his
nightmares for years to come.
The final few pages are blank, and Stiles thinks he sees a small blood stain on
the inside of the back cover before he closes it again in disgust. "Well, that
was an experience..." he mutters, pushing the book away from himself and
unwillingly moving onto the next when Holly hands it to him.
All in all, Stiles spends just under two hours going through as much of the
material as he can. The current tome isn't so much a book of spells as it is a
diary, one written by a young girl as she grew up in an old coven somewhere in
Poland. He doesn't recognise the name of the woman who wrote it or the town she
lived in, but he finds it reasonably interesting nevertheless. It ends just as
she reaches her teenage years, and he assumes she would've continued to write
inside a second book afterward.
The writing on the last couple of pages is smudged, like the writer was crying,
tears falling from their eyes and dropping down onto the paper with every word.
Stiles yawns loudly when Derek suggests they call it a day for now, with Holly
thankfully agreeing. They bid goodbye to the woman before leaving the clinic.
"Are you hungry?" he asks Derek as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in
the direction of the closest diner when the alpha hums his assent. He's glad
the place stays open late, the lack of other customers turning out to be a
welcome change. Only one other table is occupied when they take their seats.
Stiles looks over his menu inattentively, not really reading any of the words.
In the end, when the gum-chewing waitress returns to take their order, he lets
Derek go first and just tells her that he'll have the same afterward. They wait
in comfortable silence until their food arrives. "So...Cora and Charlie, huh? I
gotta say, I didn't see that one coming at all; I didn't even know Cora was
interested in girls that way."
Grunting in acknowledgement, Derek stares down at his plate and tries not to
think about it. He's happy for his sister, he thinks, but he can't help feeling
a little unsure about the whole thing at the same time. "I didn't know that
either, but we don't really talk much anymore, so..." he replies quietly,
taking another bite of his bacon cheeseburger.
"This totally opens the floor for some good-natured ribbing, you know," Stiles
chirps happily, already plotting all of the ways he can embarrass the youngest
Hale. He'll have to make sure not to go too far, though; he wouldn't put it
past Cora to get sick of it quickly and do something about it, probably
involving violence. He wonders if anyone else in the pack was aware that the
two girls were interested in each other. Lydia is the most likely candidate,
since she always goes out of her way to meddle in the rest of the pack's lives,
though he doesn't think she and Cora hang out at all apart from in group
settings. Cora is still something of an outsider in the pack, preferring to
remain on the outskirts of all the goings on. He used to feel a little sorry
for her until he realised that's just how she likes it.
Derek contemplates the ramifications of a potential relationship blossoming
between his sister and Charlie. If things do progress the way he and Stiles are
assuming they will, then there'll be the whole issue of Cora being a werewolf
and part of the pack, a secret he's unwilling to divulge except in rare cases.
Danny was a special exception, having received glowing praise from pretty much
everyone already in the pack.
Deciding to take on that problem if and when it arises instead of worrying now,
Derek polishes off his burger and gulps down his water before waiting for
Stiles to do the same. It doesn't take the teen long, and soon enough, he's
paying the bill and walking his mate out of the diner, intent on crawling into
bed as soon as he gets home.
                                     * * *
- Monday, August 27th, 2012 -
At school the next day, Stiles observes silently as Cora and Charlie both dance
around each other with a smile on his lips. He thinks it's pretty adorable,
though he'll never tell Cora that for fear of being punched in the face. Having
decided to wait until lunch to broach the subject, when the hour comes and the
pack gathers around their usual table in the corner of the cafeteria, he takes
his seat next to Isaac and notes with amusement that, while the two girls don't
actually sit together, they do pass the occasional heated glance back and
forth. He shares his own knowing smirk with Lydia, the redhead sitting directly
opposite him with Jackson glued to her side while pretending not to be. He
doesn't participate in any of the conversations, choosing instead to just sit
and watch.
Five minutes before lunch is due to end, Cora gets up from the table and leaves
early, saying that she has to run to her locker and get a book she forgot
before the next period. Since they have the same class, Stiles follows her,
getting more and more amused the more annoyed Cora appears to get by his
continued silence.
After getting the book she needed, Cora slams her locker closed before rounding
on Stiles, a deep scowl on her face and her eyes blazing in anger. She's never
looked more like Derek's sister. "Would you just fucking spit it out already?!"
she exclaims, her arms flying out from her sides.
Having gotten the reaction he was hoping for, Stiles chuckles and follows Cora
when she storms off again, apparently trying in vain to get away from him. He
walks with his hands clasped behind his back, almost skipping along because of
the glee he feels. He's glad that the tables have turned now, giving him a
chance to pick on Cora a bit instead of the girl giving him and Derek shit all
the time for being 'sickening and gross', as she usually puts it. There have
been several times in the past where she's told them to get a room, to which
he's retaliated that they already have one that they make frequent use of. The
expression of horror that appears on Cora's face each time never fails to make
him crack up. It took her quite a while to learn her lesson. "So...what's going
on between you and Charlie, hmm?" he asks as casually as he can, though his
voice still carries a large amount of rapt interest, giving him away.
"That's none of your God damn business!" Cora hisses between her clenched
teeth, annoyed that there's not really anything she can do to rid herself of
Stiles while they're at school, at least not with her preferred methods. When
they walk into the classroom—the first ones to arrive—she throws herself into a
seat at the back, rolling her eyes when the boy predictably takes the one next
to her.
"Come on now! We're family; you're practically my sister in law, so if you
can't talk with me, who can you talk with?" Stiles points out, batting his
eyelashes when Cora just glares in his direction, unimpressed. "Seriously,
though, I want to know what's going on with you. Pretty please?"
Shaking her head and sighing, Cora opens her book and flips through the pages
angrily. "I don't know what my brother sees in you... He must have some serious
brain damage going on or something; that's the only reasonable explanation I
can think of to explain his lapse in judgement," she mutters, keeping her voice
down when she notices that other students have begun filtering into the
classroom. She doesn't actually mean her words—she's actually incredibly
pleased that Derek has settled down with someone who complements him so well,
especially after how disastrously all of his past relationships have ended.
It's nice to see her brother brought out of his brooding shell by Stiles' loud
antics; she just wishes Stiles wasn't so annoying to everyone else most of the
time.
"Whatever you say, puppy," Stiles replies, not taking offence at Cora's words
at all. He knows she's just deflecting. "It certainly looked like something
mighty interesting was happening Saturday night, you two getting all hot and
heavy. I've gotta say, that was a very different look on you."
"Do you ever shut up?" Cora moans, looking up at the ceiling and asking God why
he saddled her with the irritating human. She longs for the last couple of
minutes of lunch to pass already so the teacher will walk in and put an end to
the current conversation.
Smirking, Stiles leans against the desk on his elbows and looks down at Cora.
"You should know by now that almost nothing can make me shut up," he snickers,
his body shaking with silent laughter when Cora groans loudly and slams her
head down on the desk in frustration. "Whatever. I won't bother you about it
again if you don't want me to, but just be careful, OK? As much as I don't
think she'd be a problem, I know Derek still isn't too sure of Charlie, so try
not to let anything slip for now." With that, he looks away from the back of
Cora's head and stares instead out of the window. The classroom faces the
lacrosse field, and he can see several members of the team out there
practising. They must have a free period, he muses, feeling a small pang of
longing in his chest. While he still sticks by his decision to quit the sport
for good, he does miss it a little bit every now and then.
Cora thanks the heavens when the bell rings and their teacher finally arrives.
The class passes smoothly after that, Stiles sticking to his promise and
keeping quiet about what he'd witnessed at Jungle. She's quick to leave the
room when the hour ends, regardless, grateful that she doesn't share her next
class with the boy.
Just as Stiles leaves the room as well, having stayed behind for a minute to
gather his things and let the rest of the students filter out ahead of him,
he's dragged off down the hallway in the opposite direction of where he
actually needs to go. He's about to flail and try to get free when he realises
that his abductor is just Lydia. "Umm...what are you doing?" he asks
confusedly, allowing himself to be shepherded into a free classroom, where he
finds Erica, Isaac and, surprisingly, Jackson waiting for them.
Closing the door behind herself so that no one can overhear them, Lydia leans
against the teacher's desk at the front of the room and faces the other four.
"Right, as you all know, Ms. Adler's hatred of Stiles is getting out of
control," she begins, crossing her arms and giving Jackson a pointed look when
the beta scoffs and makes to leave. She doesn't let up until he sits back down
on one of the desks in the front row. "It's reached the point now where there's
a serious chance he could fail Chemistry, and I feel this is unacceptable. Both
Danny and Isaac have told me that he's done absolutely nothing to deserve it."
She notices Stiles glaring at her, no doubt suspecting that she had her doubts
before she was told otherwise. She hastens to assure him that he's wrong. "I
didn't think you would've anyway, Stiles."
"Mmm, I can't have my Batman being picked on!" Erica interjects, gripping
Stiles in a headlock and rubbing her knuckles across his head. She lets the boy
go again when he stamps down hard on her foot, licking his face in retaliation
and laughing at the way he squawks indignantly.
"Now, I've already filled everyone else in on the plan, Stiles, but I wanted to
check with you first to see if you wanted to get in on it, too," Lydia informs,
pulling out her phone and checking something on the screen. "Danny's already in
position, so we just have to give him the word and it'll all kick off."
Frowning, Stiles steps cautiously away from Erica to avoid getting attacked by
the girl again, choosing instead to hover close to Isaac. He ignores the way
Jackson moves away from him as well, rolling his eyes at the irascible beta.
"Alright, tell me this plan of yours," he accepts, quickly getting caught up in
Lydia's infectious enthusiasm when she begins explaining. The rest of the room
seems to be affected by it, too, even Jackson, who stops acting like he doesn't
want to be there and actually joins in on the fun. It doesn't surprise Stiles
when Lydia pulls a file out of nowhere and flips it open on the desk, shuffling
the papers held within and spreading them out on the wooden surface before
gesturing for everybody to come closer. All of the papers have detailed
illustrations on them, complete with maps and lengthly paragraphs of text. It's
a little excessive, Stiles thinks, but he refrains from actually commenting on
it.
"Ever since you told me about what she did to you, Stiles, I've been doing some
recon, watching her and learning her schedule and patterns," Lydia confesses,
running her fingers down the papers and re-familiarising herself with
everything.
This doesn't surprise Stiles in the slightest, having long since accepted and
grown to admire how devious and underhanded Lydia can become when she commits
fully to something. He likes to think he had something to do with bringing out
that side of her, but in reality, he knows it was probably just her survival
instincts kicking in when their lives were in danger.
"The plan is twofold. First, Danny and Jackson will mess with the engine of her
car, making it so that it gives out when she's halfway to her house at the end
of the day," Lydia continues, pride in her voice. "She lives on the outskirts
of town, so there shouldn't be anyone else around to help her. Isaac and Erica
will be waiting for her, and when she gets out of her car to see what's wrong
with it, they'll shift into their beta forms and scare her. They'll be wearing
disguises, so there's no chance of them being recognised." She points to the
two small bags that sit on the edge of the desk. "The second part of the plan
is where you come in, Stiles, if you want to. Tonight, when everyone's gone, we
sneak back into her classroom and trash the place."
"I was considering leaving her a nice little message on the blackboard in
something permanent," Erica adds, smirking. "Something profanity-filled." She
looks forward to terrorising Ms. Adler, chasing her through the preserve and
making her hopefully piss herself. It's no secret that pretty much everyone in
the school despises the woman as well—even the rest of the staff—so no one will
feel sympathetic.
Stiles listens to all of this with a frown on his face. As much as he detests
the teacher, he can't help but think Lydia's plan sounds like it's going a
little too far. "Don't you think this might be a little much?" he asks, biting
his lip. "I mean, what if she finds out it was us? We'd be screwed!"
"Relax, Stiles..." Isaac assures, patting the human boy on the shoulder a
couple of times before leaving his hand to rest there, squeezing gently. "She
deserves to have the shit scared out of her. No one would disagree with that,
and since everybody in this school hates her, it would be impossible for her to
figure out who was behind all of this. Besides, we're not actually going to
damage her car, if that's what you're worried about; it'll still work fine.
Jackson and Danny are just going to do a little bit on tinkering, and when this
is all over, they'll put everything back the way they found it, OK?" He smiles
when he sees that his words are slowly bringing Stiles around. The cogs in the
other boy's head can practically be seen turning as he thinks.
"Well...if you're sure no actual damage will be done, it does sound pretty
funny..." he admits, flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip to soothe the
ache his teeth have left there. He rolls his eyes when Erica cheers at his
agreement, the blonde sharing a fist bump with Isaac.
Taking that as the final word, Lydia pulls out her phone and gives Danny the
all-clear, shooing Jackson out of the room so he can go and help his friend by
being his lookout. The text sent, she begins tidying up all of her things
again, handing the bags over to Erica and Isaac before tucking the file folder
under her arm.
"I'm gonna record the whole thing as well," Isaac chirps up as they ready
themselves to leave as well. "That part was Scott's idea; Allison didn't want
him taking part in scaring Ms. Adler, but he didn't want to miss out because of
that. I can send you a copy of the video as well if you want." When Stiles nods
his assent, he grins and opens the door, heading out into the empty hallway
with the others following behind. They'll all get a strike for being late to
their lessons, but he doesn't care. Their little planning session was worth it,
in his eyes, and since it's the first offence of the year and the rest of the
teachers in the school are all relatively nice, it's unlikely to end with any
of them getting detention. They'll all probably just receive a warning.
                                     * * *
Derek is sat at his desk in the study, working on some rough sketches for his
new job. He'd gotten the call earlier that morning, and he'd felt a deep sense
of pride when the woman on the other end of the line had congratulated him on
his fine work and told him that he'd been hired.
His stomach rumbles after a full hour of drawing lines and measuring distance
on the white paper, and when Derek looks up at the clock, his eyes widen in
surprise when he realises that it's already mid-afternoon. Time really does fly
when you're having fun, he muses, so he sets down his pencil and stands from
his chair, taking a few seconds to stretch his legs before leaving the room.
When he gets down into the kitchen, a brief look through the fridge and
cupboards reveals nothing that he can just eat immediately. He sighs, not
really feeling like cooking anything, and it's then that a thought hits him—he
needs to get some new supplies anyway so he can make his work as accurate as
possible, so he might as well go out and get it all now along with his late
lunch, killing two birds with one stone.
Decision made, he shuts the fridge and grabs his car keys from the bowl by the
door before shrugging on his leather jacket and leaving the house. He sees that
the town is relatively busy when he drives through it, and he can't help but
feel a little bit of annoyance at the fact even though he knew that would be
the case.
The art supply store is on the main street. It's quite large by Beacon Hills'
standards, almost double the size of the shops either side of it. It attracts a
lot of business, and Derek has to wait for a couple of people to leave the
building—each of their arms are weighed down with a multitude of full
bags—before he can walk through the automatic sliding doors himself.
The smell of paint assaults Derek's nose as he wanders the aisles. It doesn't
take him long to find everything he needs, and just ten minutes later, he's
getting into the queue to pay. He gets strange looks from the other patrons,
and while he knows it must look strange to see someone like him in an art
supply store, he wishes they would stop staring. Perhaps wearing his jacket
wasn't the best decision without Stiles there to make him look less
intimidating. He guesses the only good thing about it is that he doesn't have
to put up with any inane chitchat, the employee behind the till ringing up his
purchases quickly and efficiently. The only words exchanged are when she asks
if he found everything he needs and when she tells him to have a nice day as he
collects his bags. He shakes his head as he exits the building, having always
hated when people say that without meaning it at all.
There's a Subway just down the street, so Derek dumps the bags in the backseat
of his car before heading there, deciding that, since he's eaten pretty badly
for the past couple of days, he should really go for something a little
healthier. For once, he chooses to sit in the shop while he eats.
When he takes his last bite and tosses his balled-up wrapper into the bin,
Derek looks up and finds a familiar face standing in front of him. Deputy
Parrish offers him a kind smile, and he plasters on a relatively congenial one
on his own face as the other man begins walking over to him. When Parrish holds
out his hand, he reluctantly takes it and gives it a small shake before
releasing it.
"Derek! I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?" Parrish asks happily,
apparently oblivious to Derek's discomfort. He thinks the last time he and the
bearded man were actually face-to-face was right after Stiles' dad's death,
when he'd brought the teen in to give his statement just prior to the funeral.
The late sheriff is still missed deeply by all of the staff down at the
station, the space he left behind not easily filled. It took them forever to
decide who should be John's replacement, since there had never been any
discussion about it before it became a necessity. He's incredibly curious about
how Stiles is doing as well, having been too busy at work to check in with his
pseudo little brother. He hopes that Derek and Melissa have been taking good
care of him.
"Good," Derek replies succinctly, trying hard to stop his eyebrows from meeting
in the middle. If it were up to him, he wouldn't bother putting on a friendly
face, just ending the conversation already and walking away, but he knows
Stiles would be mad at him if he found out about any rudeness. Being mated to
the teen is such a chore sometimes, he muses halfheartedly.
Parrish's perky demeanour cracks a little bit when he finally picks up on how
much Derek doesn't want to be there talking to him. "Well, I'm glad to hear it,
man," he says, toning down his enthusiasm. "Tell Stiles to stop by the station
sometime, yeah? We all miss that little dude..."
After a quick nod, Derek breathes out a sigh of relief when Parrish bids a
quick farewell and continues on his way, leaving him alone again. He's more
than ready to get back to the peaceful solitude of his house, but as he nears
his car again, he catches a whiff of a scent he faintly recognises. It takes
him a couple of seconds to place it, but when he does, he looks up and down the
street curiously, trying to pinpoint where it's emanating from. It's the same
scent he came across once before, just over two weeks ago when he and Stiles
were returning home from the teen's training session with Deaton. The fact that
he's found it again out in the middle of town negates his theory of it
belonging to some animal that got scared and ran away when he went to
investigate between the trees.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Derek continues walking even when he
reaches his car, intent on seeing where the scent leads. A couple of streets
over, he gets his answer. Turning a corner, he comes to a stop when he gets a
look at who stands a few feet away from him.
Elizabeth appears unaware of Derek's presence and, to keep it that way, he
steps off to the side and hides in a small alcove built into one of the
buildings that line the pavement. He peeks around the red bricks to keep an eye
on the suspicious woman, a frown appearing on his face when he finds that she's
nowhere to be found.
"What are you doing?"
The voice comes unexpectedly from behind, startling Derek and making him jump a
couple of feet into the air like a cat. Shaking the thought from his brain, he
turns slowly and finds that Elizabeth is now stood there. He's confused about
how she could possibly have slipped past him and gotten to this new position,
the most logical explanation being that there must be something more to this
woman than what meets the eye. He's determined to find out, meeting Elizabeth's
eyes impassively and projecting an air of confidence. "What am I doing? I think
a better question would be, 'Why did I smell your scent outside my house a few
weeks ago?'," he replies coolly, crossing his arms. His bafflement only
increases when the woman looks down at her feet, her cheeks turning red.
"Ah...I was hoping you wouldn't notice that..." she mumbles, flicking her hair
back over her shoulder with her hand. Her long dress flows around her feet in
the gentle breeze. "Perhaps would could find a more...private place for this
discussion?"
Eyeing Elizabeth distrustfully, Derek nevertheless accepts and leads the way
back to his car, noting with interest that the two bags the woman clutches in
her hand are unmarked, more strange scents coming from within. Once they're
both ensconced in the familiar interior of the Camaro, he turns to her and
raises an eyebrow, a clear indication for her to continue.
"First of all, I'd like to preface this whole thing by assuring you that I mean
neither you nor anyone else any harm," Elizabeth says calmly, shuffling the
bags around on her lap until they sit there more comfortably. "I completely
understand if you're distrustful of me and everything I'm telling you now, but
I swear it's the truth. I'm a witch, as was my mother before me and so on. I
moved Charlie and I out here to get a fresh start after my husband went
missing. I know all about the supernatural, the pack, and that you're the
alpha, and the reason I was skulking around your house before was because I
wanted to check up on who Charlie was hanging around with. I'm very protective
of her since it's just the two of us left, and I don't want her getting
involved in anything dangerous. She doesn't know about any of this, and that's
how I want things to stay for the time being."
Even though Elizabeth's heart doesn't falter once when she's speaking, Derek is
still hesitant to believe her. She wouldn't be the first person he's come
across who could manipulate something like that, his late uncle Peter being the
prime example.
"Why didn't you just come straight to me instead of hiding?" Derek asks, the
fact that Elizabeth continues to clutch the bags in her lap protectively not
escaping his notice. "You have to have realised that by doing things like you
have, you've just incriminated yourself and made it very difficult for me to
believe a single word that just came out of your mouth."
Nodding sadly, Elizabeth looks away from Derek to stare out of the windshield.
"I get that now, yes," she mutters, taking a deep breath, "but you have to
understand that I was scared. I move us to a new place to get away from
something I don't really feel like getting into right now, only to find that
there's a pack of werewolves living here. I was shocked and wasn't really
thinking clearly, so I did some investigating, which obviously wasn't as sneaky
as I thought... I'll have to be more careful of that in the future. Anyway,
that scent you picked up? It was probably from the spell I used to determine
your mate's true motives in befriending my daughter. When I realised that
Stiles meant no harm and was just being nice, I backed off and left without a
word."
"I don't like the idea of you or anybody else coming to my house uninvited and
doing strange magic," Derek snarls, just barely suppressing the growl that
wants to build in his throat. He doesn't approve of the woman's actions at all,
all of the things that could have gone wrong flying through his mind.
Even so, since he can't detect a single trace of a lie, Derek decides to trust
Elizabeth on a probationary basis. "Because Stiles and my sister have already
grown pretty close to Charlie, I'm willing to see how things go from here, but
I want to make myself clear; the second I suspect you're lying to me, I won't
hesitate to do anything I have to in order to protect my pack."
"That's certainly understandable," Elizabeth accepts, holding out a hand for
Derek to shake. "As long as nothing happens to Charlie while she's with any one
of your pack, I promise not to interfere in anything unless she asks me to. I
really am only here to get a fresh start, and I'm not even doing much magic
anymore. All of this stuff is just reserves in case I need it, ingredients for
protection spells and whatnot. In fact, as I understand it, your mate is
training in order to become an emissary, is he not?" She waits until Derek nods
his hesitant assent before elaborating. "Well, as a gesture of good faith, I do
have some friends who still practice regularly, and I'm sure I can use those
connections to get Stiles ingredients of his own should he ever need them."
Contemplating the idea, Derek accepts the offer tentatively. "I'll have to ask
Stiles first, but that sounds like it might be fine," he says, not knowing what
to make of the pleased expression that appears on Elizabeth's face. "But I'm
sure he'll want to meet with you first to make sure everything's on the up and
up."
"Of course," Elizabeth agrees, gathering the handles of the bags in her lap in
one hand as she readies herself to leave the car. "He can stop by the house
sometime; I'm usually home all evening. I'm happy things are working out,
Derek. Good day to you." With that, she opens the door and gets out.
Staring after the woman for a minute, Derek waits until she disappears around
the corner at the end of he street before shaking his head and starting the
car. Now that he has all of the supplies he needs to do his job properly again,
he makes to go back home and finish the current project on which the company
have him working. It's a difficult one, but he appreciates the challenge. He
keeps an eye out for Elizabeth when he drives over to the next street and
frowns when he doesn't see any sign of her, even though there aren't actually
that many pedestrians around in that moment. He wonders how Stiles will take
the news that his new friend's mother is aware of their secret and has been the
whole time, especially when he doesn't know what make of it himself yet.
                                     * * *
When the school day comes to an end, Stiles meets Lydia by her locker in order
to begin preparing for their plans later that evening. He catches sight of
Erica and Isaac leaving the building at the other end of the corridor, both of
them carrying the bags containing their disguises, and nods at them when they
wave before disappearing through the double doors.
Lydia shows up a few minutes later, Scott, Allison and Kira in tow. "What are
you guys doing here?" Stiles asks the latter three, baffled by their presence.
He catches sight of Scott's conspiratorial grin before Lydia links their arms
together and leads him outside with the rest of the student body.
"We're gonna help you guys trash Ms. Adler's classroom!" Scott announces
proudly, frowning in confusion when Allison immediately slaps a hand over his
mouth to silence him. He catches his mistake when he notices a couple of other
students staring over in their direction with raised eyebrows, obviously having
heard his proclamation. "Oops..." He shuts himself up during the rest of the
walk through the parking lot, practically holding his breath until he slides
into the back seat of Stiles' Camaro with his girlfriends on either side of
him. Being between the two of them is a pretty nice place to be, if he says so
himself, and he's unable to wipe the smug smile off of his face when Stiles
starts the car and drives away from the school at Lydia's instruction.
Stiles thinks that he should have known his best friend would probably want to
participate in whatever it is Lydia has planned to get back at their most hated
teacher. While the beta isn't really on the receiving end of any of the woman's
criticisms, he knows the other boy gets angry on his behalf every time. He's
lucky to have a friend like Scott.
The fact that Allison and Kira also seem keen to join in on the plan surprises
Stiles, though, having always thought of the two girls as rather straight-
laced, supernatural activities notwithstanding. Still, he's happy enough to
have them along for the adventure.
Lydia tells Stiles to drive to her house in order to collect everything she's
gotten ready in advance. As soon as the boy informed her of his unfair
treatment at Ms. Adler's hands, she was outraged. Normally, she wouldn't even
think of doing something like this, but the woman makes a strong case for an
exception, one she gladly took. Not surprisingly, Erica helped during the
planning phase, the two of them bowing their heads together to conspire against
the ornery teacher. An hour with her laptop and her mother's credit card had
resulted in a rather sizeable shipment being delivered to her house a couple of
days later, and she'd felt a sense of adrenaline at the mere thought of using
it all as she went through it to make sure everything was there.
A few short minutes later, Lydia is getting back in the car with another bag
clutched in her hand. "Alright, let's head to yours and wait there until the
time is right," she suggests, looking pointedly at Stiles until he complies and
drives them back to his and Derek's house.
For his part, Stiles worries briefly about what his mate will think of the
whole plan. He hopes the alpha won't try to stop them from carrying it out,
since he's actually started to look forward to it. If Derek does show some
reservations, then perhaps a thorough explanation of all the things Ms. Adler
has done to him over the past year or so will convince him. It's a long list.
It's when the five of them are gathered around the living room table that
Stiles' phone goes off. Pulling it out, a smile instantly appears on his face
when he sees that it's a text from Isaac, containing an attachment. Quickly
pulling the video up on the screen, he ushers the other four closer so that
they can witness Erica and Isaac terrorising the teacher through the preserve
as well. It starts out with a shot of the two betas smiling devilishly at the
camera before it turns to look through the trees, a car driving past on the
road a short distance away. The vehicle soon sputters to a stop, with Ms. Adler
getting out from behind the wheel as she mutters a series of angry profanities
under her breath. Before the woman can even get around to the hood of her car,
the camera shows Erica racing toward her, roaring louder than she ever has
before.
Ms. Adler's screams are even more deafening, clipping the audio and sounding
tinny through the speakers of Stiles' phone. She runs at full speed in the
opposite direction, Erica chasing her and Isaac pulling up the rear, shaky
camera still in hand.
Stiles laughs raucously along with the rest of the pack as he watches,
satisfied that the first part of Lydia's plan has seemingly gone off without a
hitch. He didn't really expect anything different from the girl, though,
truthfully speaking. The last minute of the video focuses on Ms. Adler tripping
over herself to get away from Erica as the blonde dances around her and corrals
her into the trees.
For the final shot, Isaac stays at the sidelines as he hurries to keep pace
with the horrid woman, staying out of sight. Erica has vanished, no longer
pursuing Ms. Adler, and the woman in question stumbles a final time before
crashing to the dirt, gasping in pain when she scrapes her knee along a rough
tree root that protrudes from the ground. When the video ends, another text
flashes up on the screen, Isaac telling him not to worry and that the woman
wasn't actually hurt since he didn't smell any blood. Locking his phone again,
Stiles sets it down on the table before looking over everybody's faces, a smile
stuck on his own. "Well, I'd call that a rousing success, wouldn't you?" he
asks, high-fiving Scott when the beta holds up his hand in invitation.
"Yup! Now on to part two..." Lydia smirks, pulling her plans back out from her
bag and setting them out across the table like she did earlier that day. She's
halfway through filling Scott, Allison and Kira in on everything when Derek
comes down the stairs, a large, rolled-up tube of paper in his hands.
"What's going on?" Derek asks suspiciously, having been stood at the top of the
stairs for the past few minutes, listening in on the conversation going on in
the living room. The fact that everybody's face turns guilty doesn't set his
mind at ease, and it's only when Stiles gets up from his seat on the floor and
shepherds him into the kitchen that he stops aiming his narrowed eyes at Lydia.
Swallowing nervously, Stiles pushes Derek to sit on one of the stools around
the island, taking the one next to it as he readies himself to explain. "Now,
this might sound pretty bad at first, but please bear with me, OK?" he asks, a
small sense of relief sparking in his gut when Derek nods his assent and
gestures for him to continue. "You know that teacher I'm always complaining
about, Ms. Adler? Well, after she interrupted my presentation last week, I told
Lydia about it and, uh...she came up with this plan to sort of get revenge..."
At Derek's raised eyebrow, he turns fully to face the man and looks away as he
speaks. "I don't know why, but she hates me, even more than Harris did, and I
didn't even think that was possible. Erica and Isaac scared her a little, and
the rest of us were planning on going out later on tonight to...mess up her
classroom. Kinda."
Purposefully not speaking for almost a full minute just to watch Stiles sweat,
Derek finally puts his mate out of his misery with a long sigh. "I can't say I
approve of this plan of Lydia's, but I won't try to stop you," he says quietly,
very much aware that Scott is listening in and relaying his words to the rest
of the teenagers in the living room.
"Just don't get caught, OK? I don't want Melissa coming down on my head for you
getting in trouble. She'd probably force you to move back in with her, Isaac
and Scott, at least for a while, and I don't want that." With one last nod,
Derek places a quick kiss on Stiles' cheek and leaves the room, giving a stern
look to the rest of the pack to reinforce his warning before heading outside.
***** Date *****
- Tuesday, August 28th, 2012 -
The rest of Lydia's plan goes off without a hitch. Because of all the
supernatural goings-on that have taken place at the school in the past couple
of years, they'd all been expecting the heightened security they encountered
when they arrived that night. The wolves' heightened senses had been utilised a
lot while they vandalised Ms. Adler's classroom, each of them keeping an ear
out for approaching footsteps so they had enough time to make a speedy escape
should a security guard unexpectedly show up. They'd each taken a different
part of the room, the blinds pulled down over the windows so that no one could
see inside the room from the other side of the glass. As she planned
beforehand, the last thing Erica did before leaving with everyone else was to
scrawl a scathing message on the blackboard, so vulgar that Stiles had actually
blushed when he read it.
Luckily, nobody got caught, and Stiles left with everybody else feeling a
vindictive sense of accomplishment, like justice had been served. He gets to
the school early the next morning so he can witness Ms. Adler's outrage
firsthand when she gets a look at everything they've done.
Everyone else is already gathered in the hallway outside the woman's classroom,
acting like nothing out of the ordinary is going on while also keeping an eye
out for Ms. Adler. "Hey," Stiles greets as soon as he walks up to join them,
gladly returning the hug Isaac pulls him into before trying to catch up on the
current conversation. "Thanks for helping me out yesterday."
"No problem," Erica accepts easily, flicking her blonde curls over her shoulder
from where she leans against Boyd. "We've gotta look out for our pack mom,
after all." She gets immense pleasure out of the way Stiles turns red at her
words, sending a small glare in her direction before looking away and
pretending nothing happened. Even though the boy has long since stopped
protesting the title all the betas have given him—sans Jackson, of course—it
still amuses her whenever she glimpses a crack in his nonchalance, allowing her
to see how much the name really affects him. He doesn't seem to approve of it
very much coming from anyone other than Isaac, but he just lets it happen now,
knowing that neither she nor the curly-haired beta will stop using it any time
soon.
Every one of the wolves' ears perk up at the same time, all of them turning to
look down the hallway. "Here she comes!" Erica hisses.
As the blonde pointed out, Stiles watches as covertly as he can as Ms. Adler
comes around the corner at the other end of the hall. Her gait is a little slow
because of the bruise that has formed on her knee from when she fell in the
preserve. The rest of her doesn't look much better, her eyes skittering about
the hallway as if she thinks whatever attacked her yesterday will do so again
at any moment.
Stiles almost feels sorry for her, and he really would if she didn't glare at
him when she passes, her attitude toward him clearly remaining the same. He
waits on bated breath as the woman gets closer to her classroom.
Ms. Adler's hand pauses over the door handle as she gets a good look through
the small window at the destruction within. Her face turns red and starts
twitching as she tries to contain her anger, but it's pointless. She throws
open the door with a bang and yells her frustration as she storms into the
room, the bag and papers she holds in her hand going flying as she sees just
how much her classroom has been screwed with. The message on the chalk board is
a particularly rage-inducing: 'Go rot in hell, you fucking bitch!' She screams
out her vexation before tearing back into the hallway, running as fast as she
can in the direction of the principal's office, no doubt with the intention of
giving him an earful.
"Well, that was fun," Erica smirks, sharing a fist-bump with Stiles and Isaac.
                                     * * *
When Stiles gets home from school, he has a skip in his step because of how
good the day was. He's still riding the high he got seeing Ms. Adler get her
comeuppance, but as soon as he crosses the threshold, he can sense that
something is amiss. He can't quite figure out what it is, though, only knowing
that it's nothing life-threatening. When he enters the living room and finds
Derek sat on the sofa, looking dejectedly down at his lap, his good mood
instantly vanishes, replaced by deep concern for his mate. This wasn't what he
was expecting to see when he walked through the door, especially since Derek
doesn't often display his emotions as openly as he is in that moment, at least
not before he pries them out of the man. It worries him. "What's wrong?" he
asks, dropping his bag down next to the coffee table and taking a seat next to
his wolf.
"It's nothing really..." Derek mumbles, not looking up to meet his mate's gaze.
He starts a little when Stiles suddenly moves over and climbs into his lap, his
hands automatically finding themselves settling around the teen's hips. He
finally raises his head and peers up at Stiles' face when the teen's fingers
run through his hair, sighing when he sees his expectant expression.
Looking away again, Derek leans into the touch before revealing what's
troubling him. "It's nothing major. I just finished having another look for my
necklace, but I still didn't find it," he explains, frowning but nevertheless
allowing himself to be moved when Stiles pulls him forward, his face ending up
buried in the teen's collarbone.
"Aww, Sourwolf..." Stiles soothes, a little shocked that the loss of his
necklace is affecting Derek so much. He knew the man was fond of it by his
initial reaction to losing it, but he didn't expect his wolf to still be this
upset about it. He shivers slightly when Derek exhales into the skin of his
neck, tucking his chin over the alpha's head and rubbing his hand up and down
his muscular back a couple of times before releasing him and connecting their
mouths in a chaste kiss. "Alright, I don't want you to dwell on this anymore. I
can't do it myself—even though I would be more than happy to—but I really think
you should distract yourself with something. Is there some work you haven't
finished yet that you can focus your mind on for the time being?" When Derek
nods, he smiles happily, hoping that the alpha will adopt his positive attitude
if he keeps it up. "Excellent! Why don't you go get cracking on that, hmm? I'm
supposed to meet Lydia at the mall in a bit, so I'll be leaving soon, but I'll
be back later and we can have some fun then, OK?."
After sliding off of Derek's lap again, Stiles watches as the man walks down
the hallway and enters his study, the door shutting with a gentle click behind
him. Sighing now that his mate is out of sight, he heads up to their bedroom to
change his clothes in preparation for meeting up with Lydia at the mall.
Quickly getting sidetracked exchanging a series of increasingly offensive texts
with Erica, Stiles doesn't realise how much time is passing by until another
message pops up on the screen of his phone, this time from Lydia—'Where the
hell are you?! You were supposed to be here 10 minutes ago!'
Looking at the time, Stiles' eyes widen when he realises that she's right. A
speedy raid of his and Derek's dresser later, he's rushing out of the house,
yelling a hasty farewell to his mate over his shoulder before the front door
closes. He doesn't remember ever driving as fast as he does then, not wanting
to be on the receiving end of Lydia's wrath, especially not after what she did
for him the previous day. He pushes the speed limit the whole drive to the
mall, his eyes flicking down to the metre every couple of seconds to make sure
he doesn't actually accidentally go over it. With how responsive the pedal is
in the new Camaro, it's touch and go for the majority of the journey. He only
slows down when he nears the mall parking lot, keeping an eye out of Lydia's
car and finding the girl stood in the space next to it to keep it free. Looking
at her sheepishly through the front windshield, he pulls to a stop in the space
when she saunters out of the way.
"You will be punished," Lydia informs Stiles as soon as he gets out of his car.
She doesn't wait for him to respond, choosing instead to wrap her hand tightly
around his wrist and drag him toward to the mall's main entrance. She smirks to
herself when she overhears the boy whine sadly.
Stiles isn't at all surprised when he ends up carrying all of Lydia's purchases
for her, his arms quickly growing tired under the weight of all the bags. Even
though he perseveres for as long as he can in an effort to ingratiate himself
with the girl again, eventually, he's forced to break his silence on the
matter.
"Why isn't Jackson here doing this instead?" Stiles asks breathlessly, thinking
that the beta would be much more suited to the task than he is, what with his
werewolf strength.
"He's being a dick again, so I'm ignoring him until he learns his lesson,"
Lydia replies shortly, looking through the dresses currently on the rack in
front of them with a critical eye. The store must have gotten a new line in,
since she doesn't recognise a single garment she comes across. It's a shame,
she thinks, not finding anything she even wants to try on, let alone buy. In
the end, she gives up her search, deciding that she's probably already got
enough outfits to last her a while if she gets creative. Plus, as it is, her
mother is no doubt going to have a conniption when she sees their credit card
bill at the end of the month. She turns around and sighs when she sees the
state Stiles is in. The boy has sweat beading on his forehead and his posture
is terrible because of the weight all the bags he carries puts on him. Taking
pity, she graciously takes a couple to carry herself.
It's when the two of them are finally making their way out of the mall again
that Stiles catches sight of something that interests him out of the corner of
his eye. "Wait!" he calls to Lydia, the girl having already marched on ahead
without noticing his pause.
When the redhead just raises an impatient eyebrow at him, Stiles points as best
he can toward the jewellery store he wants to check out. It's the same one in
which he got Derek's first necklace. Figuring that it can't hurt to check and
see whether they have anything similar in stock, he ignores Lydia's eye roll
and enters the shop, the little bell above the door ringing as he steps through
it.
Paying no mind to the female employee's wide-eyed stare, Stiles heads
immediately over to the display featuring necklaces. He turns to look briefly
over his shoulder when the bell sounds again and sighs in relief when he sees
that Lydia has decided to follow him, the girl still looking unimpressed but
choosing to peruse the other displays while she waits anyway. Stiles' hopes of
finding a replacement for Derek begin to die when he looks over everything in
front of him and sees nothing even similar to the triskelion necklace he bought
before. It makes sense, he supposes—he wasn't really expecting the store to
have the exact same stock as it did eight months ago, and yet, a small sense of
disappointment still builds in his gut as he nears the last of it. It would've
made a very good end to the day if he could get Derek a replacement then and
there.
As a last ditch effort, Stiles hobbles over to the haughty-looking woman who
stands behind the register and gives her a toothy smile. "Umm, hi," he begins,
aware that Lydia is watching him the whole time, probably wondering what he's
doing but thankfully remaining silent.
"I bought something from here earlier in the year for my boyfriend, but he lost
it a couple of days ago," Stiles continues, swallowing nervously when he sees
that the woman keeps eyeing him suspiciously, like she doesn't believe him.
"Anyway, I know it's a long shot, but I was wondering if you had something
similar in the back in any old stock or something. It was a triskelion
necklace, like, three spirals that meet the middle?"
"Just a minute; I'll go and check," the woman says before disappearing through
the doorway that leads to the back of the shop. She moves slowly as if what
she's being asked to do isn't worth her time.
Stiles stands there patiently for the five minutes she's gone, not surprised in
the least when Lydia tells him halfway through that she's done waiting for him
and that she'll meet him by the cars whenever he's finished. Since the girl is
now gone, he feels comfortable putting all of her bags down on the floor to
rest his arms, rotating his shoulders a couple of times to work out the tension
that had built in the joints. He definitely plans on asking Derek for another
massage later on that evening if the soreness doesn't dissipate by then. Having
gotten caught up in his thoughts, he doesn't notice immediately when the woman
returns, only snapping out of them when she clears her throat pointedly,
sounding rather annoyed. A smile lights up his face when he looks over and sees
what she has in her hand.
In the open velvet box is another triskelion necklace, almost identical to the
first. The only difference is that this one is white instead of regular gold.
It also obviously doesn't have the ruby encrusted in the centre, but Stiles
doesn't think that matters; he'd be lying if he said he didn't prefer how the
old one looked before Lydia got her hands on it anyway, and he thinks Derek
thought the same.
"Awesome! I'll take it!" Stiles exclaims, fumbling his credit card from his
back pocket. Derek gave it to him shortly after they moved in together—"We're
mates, love. My money is your money," his wolf had said with a wide smile on
his face, no doubt getting satisfaction out of being able to provide for him
like the adorable alpha he is.
It's the first time Stiles has used the card for anything other than buying
groceries whenever Derek isn't there with him to use his own. Even with what
the alpha had said, he's been unwilling to use it on anything else. While he's
never been poor, exactly, he saw how hard his dad worked to pay the bills and
put food on the table—the medical expenses leftover from his dementia scare
notwithstanding—so he definitely understands the value of a dollar. He doesn't
think he'll ever feel comfortable spending money as freely as Lydia is, and he
doesn't think that's a bad thing. Still, he feels a little thrill when he hands
his credit card over to the woman, who then looks at it suspiciously as if
she's trying to work out whether it's genuine or not. He's glad he didn't have
her serving him the first time he came into the store, and he prays that he
never does again because she's so unpleasant.
"Alright," the woman says, swiping the card through the slot in the register
and waiting for the purchase to go through. Once it does, she rips the receipt
off when it's spat out and puts it with the velvet box inside a small plastic
bag, which she hands over to Stiles. "Have a nice day."
Choosing not to call out how forced the woman's parting smile obviously is,
Stiles just gives her a little wave before picking up all of Lydia's bags
again—it's a real struggle, given that he has one of his own to add to the
bunch—and shouldering the door open to leave. He shuffles out to the parking
lot and finds Lydia waiting in her car, the engine on, loud music coming from
within.
After knocking on the window, Stiles groans gratefully when the redhead opens
the backseat for him to deposit her bags into. "God, my arms..." he complains,
bending over slightly and catching his breath again. The only response Lydia
offers is to scoff in his direction, so he sticks his middle finger up at her
when he finds the energy to stand up straight again. "Please tell me my
tireless efforts have made up for me being late earlier..." He waits, tapping
his foot as the girl holds her hand to her chin and pretends to mull the
question over, a smile appearing on her face when she finally gives him a
'yes'. "Great. Well, I'm in serious need of a nice, relaxing bubble bath, so if
you'll excuse me." With that, he takes his one small bag and gets into his own
car, waiting for Lydia to pull out of her space next to him before doing the
same and beginning the drive home.
                                     * * *
When he passes by Charlie's street, Stiles remembers the conversation he and
Derek had the previous evening, just before he left with the rest of the pack
to wreak their own form of justice. Wanting to take Elizabeth up on her offer,
he makes a detour and parks in front of the woman's house.
Elizabeth's car is in the driveway, so Stiles feels confident enough walking up
the front path and knocking on the door. He gets an answer immediately, the
wood swinging inward to reveal the woman standing on the other side, clad in a
deep purple dressing gown that looks unbearably soft. He has to stop himself
from reaching out to touch it.
"Hey, Ms. Alexander," Stiles greets, stepping forward when Elizabeth moves
aside to grant him entrance. The place is a little different than he remembers
from his first visit, though he guesses that's just because Charlie and her
mother must still be in the process of finding the right places for all of
their belongings. While he's never experienced it firsthand, he can guess what
a chore moving houses can be and how long it must take to get fully settled
again. The walls are a different colour, and he can just about pick up on the
faint scent of fresh paint that lingers in the room. He declines Elizabeth's
offer of a cup of tea as he takes a seat on the living room sofa, ending up
directly across from the woman with the coffee table positioned between them.
"Is Charlie here?"
Elizabeth shakes her head. "No, she's out getting replacements for some of her
things that were lost in the move," she explains, leaning back in her chair to
get more comfortable. "I assume you're here to follow up on what Derek and I
discussed yesterday?"
"Yeah, I gotta say I was pretty surprised when he told me," Stiles replies,
crossing one of his legs atop the other before continuing. "So...what's your
story? I mean, as much I want to trust you and carry on as if everything is all
hunky dory, we've been screwed over by lies before, so I want to know
everything." He meets Elizabeth's gaze coolly, trying to project an almost
intimidating aura to dissuade the woman from being untruthful.
Chuckling quietly, Elizabeth looks down at her hands briefly before following
Stiles' request. "I completely understand your hesitance," she begins, meeting
the teen's eyes again as her laughter tapers off. "I grew up in Florida with my
sister, our mother, and my grandmother, a close-knit family of witches. I was
always taught not to trust outsiders, that the only people I could depend upon
were my blood relatives. That never really sat right with me, but I kept my
mouth shut and just did as I was told. Then, in high school, I met Paul. We hit
it off straight away, and much to my family's chagrin, we got married right
after graduation. He wasn't a witch like I am, but even so, he accepted that
side of me without question. Our marriage had consequences for a while; I was
excommunicated from my family, but when I got pregnant with Charlie, my mother
took us back so that she could get to know her granddaughter. Everything was
perfect then for a long time. Of course, that's when things started to go wrong
again. I don't know what happened, but eight years ago, Paul went missing.
"There were no warning signs, and the two of us were happily married, so that
ruled out him leaving of his own accord. The only plausible explanation was
that something happened to him, something bad.
"I couldn't track him down, no matter what I tried—not even a locator spell
could pick up on any trace of him anywhere. The grief almost broke me, but I
knew I had to be strong for Charlie, and with my mother's help, I was able to
pull myself together again and soldier on. Years passed without incident, but a
few months ago, I began to get this strange feeling whenever I went outside,
almost like someone was watching me, just out of sight.
"I went to my mother for help since she's more powerful than I am, but she said
she couldn't do anything, that she couldn't stop whatever was after me. She
told me the only way to remain safe was to run, to stop using magic altogether
and take my daughter as far away as I could.
"It's tradition in my family to wait until your child reaches the age of
eighteen before introducing them to their magic, which is why Charlie is still
unaware of the supernatural world. Even so, I'm not sure whether it's a good
idea to do so when the time comes. I don't want her to end up in danger if
whatever was after me comes after her should she begin practising."
Stiles nods along to Elizabeth's tale, sympathising with her troubles when he's
unable to detect any trace of a lie. He decides to take Derek's lead and trust
the woman for now. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says after the woman remains
silent for almost a full minute, lost in her memories. "Would it be unsafe for
Charlie to learn about the supernatural world in general, without finding out
about you or her powers, or is there still a chance that whatever was after you
before would try again?" He's betting on that being the case, though he hopes
he's wrong; he can't help thinking selfishly that the pack's life would be made
a little easier if they didn't have to pretend they're just a regular group of
teenagers whenever Charlie is around. It gets quite tiresome, but he's come to
think of the girl as too good a friend to even contemplate cutting ties with
her now. That would just be cruel.
"I'm not sure," Elizabeth admits, frowning deeply. "Even though it was only
after me, there's still the risk that it could switch its focus over to Charlie
if she ever began using her magic."
After another few seconds of thinking, she looks up again and meets Stiles'
eyes once more. "Of course, it would indeed be possible for you to introduce
her to the supernatural world without telling her about her heritage," she
accepts, pursing her lips, "but even so, I don't think I'm comfortable with
that happening just yet. I hope you can understand."
"Of course," Stiles responds, nodding and smiling kindly. "Just let me know if
and when you change your mind. I'd like to be there to help if I can." With
that, he stands up and walks around the coffee table. "I think that's about
everything I wanted to talk to you about, so if it's OK with you, I'm gonna be
heading back home now. I'm sure Derek is wondering what's taking me so long."
He shakes Elizabeth's hand when the woman rises to show him out, her grip firm
and confident. He's halfway down the front pathway when he hears her call out
to him, and he turns to find her rushing out of the house with a small brown
paper bag clutched to her chest. He looks at her in confusion when the bag is
thrust into his hand. "What's this?"
"I put together a sort of...starter pack, I guess you could say, of ingredients
I used to use in my spellwork," Elizabeth explains, pulling her dressing gown
tighter around her body when the cool evening air blows around her feet. "I
sorted it all for you yesterday after my talk with Derek. I figured you'd
probably find it useful for your emissary training."
"Oh, yeah, Derek mentioned something about that. This is so nice of you,"
Stiles acknowledges gratefully, peering inside of the bag before dropping his
hand and holding it at his side. "Thanks." With that, he turns and gets back
into his Camaro, ready to finally head home.
                                     * * *
When he walks through the front door of their house, Stiles finds Derek sat
again on the sofa, sprawled sideways across the cushions with the television
remote resting on his stomach. Some drama show plays out on screen, but the
alpha sits up and mutes the sound when he enters the room.
"Hey. How was shopping with Lydia? Hell, I'm assuming?" Derek asks knowingly,
easily able to sense that his mate is close to being completely tuckered out.
He knows how much of a chore long stretches of time spent with the banshee can
be. As Stiles comes closer, he notes with interest that the teen is holding one
of his hands behind his back, hiding something from sight. He doesn't comment
on it yet.
"You know it," Stiles replies, stopping when he reaches the back of the sofa.
He smiles down at Derek when the alpha tips his head back to stare up at him
expectantly, one thick eyebrow arched curiously. "So...I have a surprise for
you. Close your eyes." His smile widens when Derek's expression instantly gets
suspicious, and he waits the couple of seconds it takes for his mate to finally
acquiesce, his eyelids slowly slipping shut. Reaching into the bag still in his
hand, he pulls out the jewellery box and extracts the necklace from its velvet
bed, allowing the box to fall to the floor with a soft thud as he undoes the
clasp on the chain and drapes it around Derek's neck. He tilts the alpha's head
forward so he can do the necklace up again, grateful that the man keeps his
eyes closed the entire time, as requested. "OK, you can open them now."
Looking down, Derek's breath freezes when he sees the pendant now sitting in
the middle of his chest. He had his theories about what it could be when he
felt the weight of it come to rest there, but he didn't believe Stiles would've
been able to find a replacement so quickly.
Picking it up delicately with a shaking hand, Derek inspects the triskelion
necklace with great interest. He doesn't mind the change in colour, finding the
silver tone almost compliments the smooth curves of the symbol better than the
gold did. "What prompted this?" he asks eventually, finally tearing his eyes
away from the necklace when he feels the cushion next to him dip as Stiles
takes a seat.
"Well...when I saw how much losing the old one was getting to you, I wanted to
do something to cheer you up again," Stiles mumbles, looking down at his hands
when he finds that he can't hold Derek's gaze. The alpha's eyes are filled with
too much love for him to handle without wanting to do something stupid, like
tear up and sob like a baby, which...no. "I wasn't originally planning on
getting anything while I was out with Lydia, but as we were leaving the mall,
we passed the same jewellery store I got the first one from and I figured there
was no harm in checking, you know?" He squawks in surprise when he suddenly
finds himself on his back, Derek tackling him over and climbing atop him to
press their mouths together tightly. He quickly gets with the programme, his
eyes closing in bliss as his hands come around Derek's back to pull him closer,
feeling the way the hard muscle shifts under his palms as his wolf's tongue
invades his mouth.
Stiles feels Derek's new necklace smack into his chin as its owner moves above
him, the alpha's hands winding through his hair and pulling lightly, making him
whine quietly into the kiss with pleasure. When Derek pulls away and begins
laying a series of close-mouthed kisses across his face and neck, it takes him
a few seconds to realise that the man is talking in between each one,
distracted as he is by the feel of lips on his skin.
"Mine." Kiss. "Beautiful." Kiss. "Mate." Kiss. "Perfect." Kiss. "Love." Kiss.
"Everything." Kiss. "Forever." Kiss.
On and on it goes, so Stiles just lies back and lets Derek have at it, very
much enjoying the weight of the alpha's muscular body resting atop his own.
Eventually, though, his mate calms down again and places one last kiss on his
lips before lying fully atop him, pressing him down into the cushions and
nuzzling affectionately into his neck. It's not a bad place to be, Derek's
breath sending shivers down his spine as it puffs out across his bare skin. He
shifts his legs a little so that Derek's left falls in between both of his, the
alpha's hip rubbing across his jean-covered crotch as everything else falls
into place. From the snort his wolf lets out, he didn't do a very good job of
covering up just how much that small bit of friction affected him.
"I take it by your reaction that you like the new necklace?" Stiles asks after
a while, his left hand brushing over Derek's hair and his right wrapping around
the man's shoulder to hold him in place, their chests pressed together. He can
feel Derek's heart beat in rhythm with his own.
Derek hums his assent into Stiles' neck, his eyes closed in contentment at
having his mate relaxed and warm beneath him. He worms one of his hands under
the hem of Stiles' t-shirt, rucking it up until his palm is splayed flat over
the teen's chest. He's unable to resist rubbing his pinkie finger over the taut
pebble of his mate's left nipple, making him grunt and try to wiggle away from
the touch.
"I'm glad you like it..." Stiles mumbles when Derek finally stops trying to
disturb him, turning his head sideways slightly until his nose ends up buried
in the dark strands of the alpha's hair. It smells like butterscotch. "Lydia's
plan to get back at Ms. Adler went off without a hitch, by the way. You
should've seen her reaction when she saw the state of her classroom... It was
quite something. Plus, as a bonus, because of what we did, her classes have
been cancelled for the rest of the week while everything is cleaned up again,
so...score two for me." He chuckles into Derek's hair, his eyes slipping closed
as all of the energy he exerted during day catches up with him. "Did you get
all the work done you needed to while I was out with Lydia earlier?"
"Mmm, yup..." Derek breathes, very much enjoying the closeness they're sharing
in that moment. It's not often he initiates cuddling sessions like this,
usually choosing to leave that task to Stiles instead, but he feels this was a
good time to make an exception.
Derek very much approves of having his nose pressed right up behind Stiles'
ear, his nostrils filled with nothing but the teen's scent on every inhale.
There's a slight tang of sweat to it, which he assumes is from running around
after Lydia all afternoon, but he finds that it only adds to his mate's
naturally addictive scent until it makes him slightly dizzy.
Squeezing himself impossibly closer, Derek concentrates on the feel of Stiles'
heartbeat against his palm, the steady thrum of it beginning to lull him to
sleep as well. Before he can actually drift off, though, he blinks his eyes
open and huffs in disappointment as he levers himself up on his arms, moving to
sit back in his usual spot on the leftmost cushion instead. Stiles looks like
he disapproves of the loss of contact about as much as he does, so he beckons
his mate closer again with a wave of his hand and rests his head atop the
teen's when he ends up squished against his side. A press of a button un-mutes
the television, filling the room with sound once more and giving him something
else to concentrate on. As much as he would've loved to drift off then and
there with Stiles tucked safely beneath him, he doesn't want to end up unable
to sleep later when the sun goes down and it's actually time to go to bed.
                                     * * *
- Thursday, August 30th, 2012 -
Since his last class of the day should've been the now-cancelled Chemistry with
Ms. Adler, Stiles gets to go home early, something of which he plans to take
full advantage. He doesn't have anything specific planned, but he knows that he
wants the rest of the day to involve no clothes.
When Stiles actually gets home, however, his plans are quickly ruined when
Derek immediately intercepts him in the foyer, clad in his leather jacket. "Uh,
what's up?" he asks dumbly, pouting but nevertheless allowing himself to be
shepherded right back outside and into his car. Derek just climbs into the
passenger seat and looks at him expectantly, offering no answer.
Starting the engine again, Stiles drives back out onto the main road and
follows his mate's directions as he gives them, the alpha still remaining
silent otherwise. His curiosity grows when Derek instructs him to drive past
the town limits, venturing out into the wilderness. "Are you actually going to
tell me what's going on, or are you just gonna stay quiet and let me stew in my
curiosity?" he asks eventually, unable to take the silence. He sighs when Derek
just smirks over at him and tells him that it's a surprise. Still, he decides
to stop talking and let the man take him wherever it is they're going, knowing
that the last time his mate had a surprise for him, it turned out incredibly
well. Soon enough, they enter one of the neighbouring towns, the sun just
beginning to go down as Derek directs him over to the other side. Something
appears over the horizon after a minute, but Stiles doesn't immediately
recognise what he's seeing.
It's only when he pulls his car to a stop in the parking lot that Stiles
realises where Derek has brought him. It's a carnival, full of flashing lights
and strange people milling about in groups between the attractions, laughter
and screams of excitement pouring forth from them all.
"Seriously?" Stiles asks when they both get out of his Camaro, looking up at
all of the rides. The Ferris wheel sticks out like a sore thumb, and he nods
his understanding when he puts two and two together and realises that was what
he saw on their approach. Derek takes his hand and pulls him along, a good
thing, otherwise he probably would've stood there gaping like an idiot for the
rest of the night.
After buying both of them tickets, Derek leads Stiles inside the carnival. "I
thought we could have ourselves a little date night," he explains as they begin
wandering between all of the rides and booths, looking over at the teen's face
and smirking when he sees him gawking around at everything with disbelief and
wonder. If he didn't know better, he'd be tempted to think that Stiles has
never seen something like this before. "I overheard some people talking about
this place when I was in town earlier, and I thought you might like to come
check it out. Was I right?" He gets his answer when Stiles finally snaps out of
his trance and squeals loudly, planting a wet kiss on his cheek that he quickly
wipes off with the sleeve of his jacket, concealing his own pleased smile
behind the leather. "I thought so."
Derek allows Stiles to drag him all around the carnival, sitting next to him on
ride after ride and quickly getting caught up in the teen's infectious
enthusiasm. He feels a deep sense of satisfaction when he beats his mate at
several of the shooting games in the arcade.
Eventually, after filling both of their stomachs with junk food, Stiles
commands that they finish the night by riding the Ferris wheel, a huge stick of
pink cotton candy clutched in his hand as he tugs on Derek's sleeve childishly
and pouts up at his scowling face to get his way. He grins widely when the
alpha accepts, almost dancing around his heels as they head over to the large
ride.
Stiles wiggles excitedly in place as he takes a seat in the car with Derek
right next to him. They're in the last one to be filled, just the two of them,
so as soon as they're settled, it sputters to life and begins its slow
rotation. The sun has disappeared below the horizon completely by this point,
making the bright flashing lights of the carnival the only sources of
illumination in the area. The stars are still bright in the sky, though, and
Stiles stares up at them with fascination when they near the top of the wheel,
shuffling sideways to get closer to Derek and cuddle up to his side.
"This was a good day..." he mumbles quietly, sighing in contentment when
Derek's arm comes around him and pulls them flush together, their bodies
touching from head to toe. He feels his mate rumble deep in his chest in
response, the vibrations running through him and making him giggle happily as
he lays his head on the alpha's strong shoulder.
The chill of the wind whips around them, but Stiles doesn't feel it at all, not
with his own personal space heater sat right next to him. They lapse into
silence for the rest of the ride, and when they get off, Stiles feels a little
like he's drunk, even though he hasn't had a sip of alcohol since his birthday
the previous weekend. He allows Derek to guide him back to the car and gets
into the passenger seat, letting the alpha drive instead.
Looking out of the window, Stiles is a little confused when Derek doesn't
immediately take them back in the direction of their house when they reenter
Beacon Hills. "Uh, Der? Home is thataway," he points out, aiming a finger
behind them at the rear windshield.
"I know," Derek replies simply, a small smile on his face as he continues to
drive, ignoring all of Stiles' questions about where he's taking them now. He
keeps the car on the outskirts of town until they reach their destination,
pulling the parking brake up and shutting off the engine. He flicks his eyes
sideways and sees that Stiles is looking around the area in confusion. He's
taken them to the same little secluded nook they had lunch in on the teen's
birthday, not wanting the night to be over just yet because he's having such a
good time. Instead of saying anything else, he reaches over into the glovebox
and takes something out, not letting Stiles see what it is as he gets out of
the car and moves to the backseat instead.
Taking a blanket that's stored behind one of the headrests and draping it over
the leather, Derek chuckles when Stiles just looks over his shoulder at him
with one eyebrow raised in question. "You coming?" he asks, patting the space
next to him.
"Umm, OK?" Stiles replies, getting out of his own seat slowly and joining Derek
in the back of the car. "What are we doing?" His eyes widen when, instead of
getting a verbal answer, the alpha just pulls him closer and connects their
mouths, large hands sliding beneath his hoodie to palm over his hips.
Getting the idea now, a pleased sound slips out of Stiles' mouth between heated
kisses as he allows Derek to strip off his hoodie and pull his t-shirt over his
head. "What brought this on?" he asks when their mouths part, breathing heavily
already. He watches with great interest as Derek also begins shedding his
clothes, his leather jacket flying over the top of the driver's seat with his
enthusiasm and landing on the steering wheel.
"Well, I know how much you like whenever we have sex in my car, so I figured it
was only a matter of time before you decided to...christen your new one, so to
speak," Derek explains, smirking as he holds up the tube of lubricant he took
out of the glovebox a minute ago. He'd slipped it in there before Stiles got
home from school, already planning then to preempt his mate and make love in
the backseat whenever they finished up at the carnival. He reaches forward and
tugs Stiles' legs around to rest in his lap before fiddling with the buckle on
his belt, pulling the teen's jeans and underwear off in one go when he raises
his hips to allow him. With his mate now fully naked, Derek crawls atop Stiles
as best he can in the confines of the car, slotting their mouths together again
as he wraps a hand around the teen's rapidly hardening cock, pumping it a
couple of times and flicking his thumb across the slit to gather the pre-come
that's beginning to form there. He drinks up the small moans Stiles releases
into his mouth with a growl.
When Derek lets go of his cock again, Stiles lets a plaintive whine slip past
his lips, disappointed with the loss of contact. He doesn't get a chance to
complain properly, though, because in the next second, Derek grinds his hips
down so that the rough denim of his jeans rubs across his sensitive length. He
can't help bucking up into the maddening sensation.
"No fair," Stiles gasps when Derek retreats, pouting up at the man for teasing
him. "You still have far too many clothes on, by the way..." He slips his index
fingers into Derek's belt loops to prove his point, pulling on them gently and
looking up at him through his lashes.
"I completely agree," Derek mutters under his breath, tilting his head forward
to avoid hitting it on the roof of the car as he gets to his knees, staying in
position as Stiles fumbles with the button at his crotch. He smirks when the
teen lets out a surprised noise, a shaking hand pulling down the zipper and
revealing that he's going commando.
Every millimetre the zip is undone, the teeth part to reveal more and more of
the dark curls that surround the base of Derek's cock, and the man can't help
chuckling when Stiles begins salivating at the sight. When his jeans are fully
undone, his expression turns into something more affectionate when the teen
stares up at him in wonder, not moving to actually divest him of the deep blue
garment. "Since I already had this whole thing planned, I didn't see the point
in wearing underwear today," he explains smugly. Taking the initiative himself,
he tugs his jeans down to his ankles, letting his hard cock free to slap up
against his stomach, leaving a sticky patch behind in the hairs that run down
from his navel.
Kicking his jeans off, Derek ignores them as they fall with a thud into the
footwell with the rest of their clothes. He wraps a hand around his aching
erection and stares down at Stiles with glowing red eyes, his hand moving
slowly over his cock.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, Stiles keeps his eyes locked with Derek's as
his mouth inches closer to the alpha's leaking cock. When the tip touches his
lips, he flicks his tongue out over the slit and smirks when his wolf hisses
and bares his fangs in response, the man's hips jerking forward automatically
in an attempt to get inside the wet cavern of his mouth.
With one hand, Stiles grabs a hold of Derek's hip and pulls him closer until
the first couple of inches slip past his lips, his eyes fluttering closed and a
groan slipping out around the thick shaft. Gradually, he bobs his head and
takes more and more of his mate's delicious cock, not stopping until his nose
is buried in the dark, wiry hairs at the base, the head easing back into the
tight column of his throat. He stays there for a few seconds until his lungs
protest the lack of oxygen, reluctantly pulling back and licking his lips as he
stares avidly at Derek's cock. "Fuck my mouth," he croaks eventually before
diving right back on the hard length, using the hand he still has around
Derek's hip to guide his wolf's movements when he doesn't immediately follow
his instruction. The alpha starts out tentative at first, like he's afraid of
hurting him, but after a few slow, shallow thrusts, he seems to gain confidence
and lose some of his inhibitions. All Stiles can do is moan and take it.
"God, you feel so good..." Derek chokes out, one of his hands winding through
Stiles' hair to hold him in place, the other resting on the passenger seat next
to him to give him more leverage to thrust. His full balls slap audibly against
the teen's chin every time he shoves his cock inside.
Spit and pre-come slips out around Stiles' mouth, dribbling down the lower half
of his face to run down his neck. His throat feels wrecked, but when he looks
up and sees the blissful expression on Derek's face, he can't bring himself to
stop the man, choosing instead to just relax as much as possible and breathe in
through his nose every time the cock in his mouth withdraws.
When he fully gives into it, Stiles finds that it's actually not that bad. In
fact, when Derek's hand pulls particularly hard on his hair, his own cock
spurts a generous blob of pre-come that slowly descends along his length. From
the way Derek growls at that exact moment, Stiles knows the alpha is able to
smell it with his werewolf senses, his face shifted into his beta form as he
blinks open his eyes and stares down at him with want clear in his expression.
After a series of erratic thrusts, Derek warns Stiles that he's close and tries
to pull out completely, but the teen doesn't want that. He clamps down on the
alpha's hips with both hands and begins moving his head instead to keep his
mouth filled, not wanting to miss a drop. Derek chokes out his name, sounding
almost pained as his orgasm crests, the alpha's cock pulsing in his mouth
before the first hot jet of come spurts down his throat. It's only then that he
allows himself to be pulled back a little, stopping when just the head of
Derek's cock remains inside so that the addicting fluid gathers on his tongue.
Derek hunches over as he rides out his orgasm, his body shuddering, his hand
splayed out in front of him on the window behind Stiles' head. When it
eventually comes to an end, he breathes out heavily and almost collapses, only
being saved from doing so because of the teen's continued hold on his hips.
Finally allowing mate's softening cock slipping out past his lips, Stiles
swallows about half of the load in his mouth before dragging Derek down and
kissing him again, sharing the alpha's come with his tongue and making him
taste himself. He knows his wolf approves because of the pleased rumble that
vibrates through his furry chest, pebbling his nipples and making him shiver in
anticipation.
After the taste of his own come disappears, Derek rips his mouth away from
Stiles' and shuffles backward slightly before flipping the teen over onto his
stomach and hiking his hips up so that his ass sticks out. Stiles ends up
squished against the car door, but he doesn't seem to mind, so Derek palms both
of the teen's cheeks in his hands before pulling them apart and blowing out a
long breath against the tight pucker hidden within. Having lost their alpha
colour when his orgasm ended, his eyes begin glowing their preternatural red
again when he sees the small pink muscle twitch in response, Stiles letting out
the smallest whine into his forearms at the tickling sensation. Derek fumbles
down into the footwell and searches for the tube of lubricant he dropped down
there earlier, coming up victorious after just a few seconds. Coating his
fingers liberally, he presses his index into Stiles' ass without warning,
chuckling at the way the teen's body jerks forward because of how sudden it is.
Rubbing the pad of his finger deliberately back and forth across Stiles'
prostate, Derek feels his cock begin to fill with blood again as he listens to
the teen's resulting whimpers and mewls. He's quick to add second and third
digits, scissoring them apart to stretch Stiles' hole as fast as possible. Even
though he's just come, he's already desperate to get inside of his mate again.
When he deems Stiles to be adequately prepared, Derek slips his fingers out of
the teen's hole and blankets him with his body. He holds himself up with his
forearms just above Stiles' shoulders to avoid accidentally crushing him with
his weight.
The position slots Derek's cock right between Stiles' cheeks, and the teen
groans deeply and pushes his ass back against the hot length, desperate to be
filled to perfection again in a way that only the alpha's cock can manage. He
moves his hands to grip Derek's arms when he feels the man finally move, his
hips drawing back slightly before pushing forward with intent, the head of his
cock just catching on his stretched rim before sliding past. He whines at the
teasing, looking over his shoulder and glaring up at Derek when his wolf just
chuckles at him. "C'mon! Just get in me already!" he demands, trying to get up
onto his knees so that he has some more leverage to push back.
Stiles is stopped from actually making it up, though, when Derek snaps his hips
forward harshly, the alpha's cock pushing past the minor resistance his ass
puts up and sliding right on in, coming home. He breathes out a choked, "Yes,"
the 'S' drawn out at the pleasure of being joined with his mate in the most
intimate of ways once more.
Now that he's held tightly within the exquisite heat of his mate, Derek allows
his body to lower completely, his chest pressed to Stiles' shoulder blades and
their hips resting flush together. "Perfect..." he whispers, his lips close to
Stiles' ear so that his breath blows out across the sensitive lobe, making the
teen shiver underneath and around him. Slowly, he arches his back so that his
cock slips out the tiniest amount before pushing back inside, aiming to keep
things slow and unhurried as he takes Stiles apart piece by piece. His mate has
already begun moaning beneath him, his familiarity with the teen's body making
it so he doesn't even need to think about angling his thrusts the correct way.
His body knows just what to do, knows just how to move to stimulate that little
bundle of nerves with every movement, providing his beautiful Stiles with as
much pleasure as he possibly can.
Shifting in place slightly, Derek bends his right arm until Stiles' chin rests
in the crevice of his elbow, locking his hand around his left forearm to trap
the teen in place even more.
The new position puts pressure on Stiles' throat and makes his breaths come in
a little less easy, but he actually kind of likes it, appreciating a small
sense of danger being present whenever he and Derek make love. He finds it
makes everything that much more exciting, and even though he doubts it would
ever happen, it stops things from ever becoming boring.
When Derek grinds his hips down in a particularly filthy roll, Stiles cries out
as the man's cock presses right up against his prostate and stays there. He
flails out a hand and reaches backward to grab a firm hold of the alpha's ass
to ground himself, the intensity of it all almost too much to bear. His mind is
focused in on everything at once, overloaded with all the sensations Derek is
making him feel. From the way the firm, hair-dusted muscle of his wolf's ass
flexes beneath his palm with each of the man's movements, to the deep, guttural
growls panted into his ear...it all mixes together until he's forced to just
give up and go limp, his mind blanking out and his eyes seeing nothing but
white.
Each of Derek's small thrusts in turn rub Stiles' leaking cock against the
blanket, the soft material lighting up the nerve endings just under the head
until he thinks he's in danger of coming already, before anything has actually
happened yet. His lax body goes taut again as it approaches, and Derek seems to
sense it since he picks up the pace of his movements a little bit to help him
along.
Derek groans long and loud when he feels Stiles clamp down around him, the
teen's cock spurting where it's trapped between his stomach and the blanket.
The increased tightness of his mate's ass and the pungent scent of his come
sends him into a frenzy.
Biting down on the back of Stiles' neck, Derek holds his mate in place as he
shuffles his knees forward a little bit, giving him more leverage to move his
hips. He's now able to pull out further until just half of his substantial
length is sheathed in his mate's tight heat, their skin slapping together
roughly when he snaps his hips forward and buries himself to the hilt again and
again. His weighty balls smack against Stiles' empty ones, causing the teen to
cry out each time at the brief flashes of pain. Sweat gathers between their
bodies, their torsos slipping and sliding against each other with each roll of
Derek's hips, a filthy wet sound echoing throughout the confines of the Camaro
every time their skin parts.
"You like that?" Derek grunts into Stiles' neck, not stopping to give his mate
a chance to answer. He just keeps pounding Stiles' ass and revels as the teen
wails out his pleasure, his enthusiasm ramping up a couple of levels when he
feels nails dig into the flesh of his ass.
All of the car's windows are beginning to fog as the interior heats up from
their lovemaking, a contrast to the cool evening air outside. When he pulls his
head back a little bit to look down at Stiles' face, Derek can't resist
sticking out his tongue and licking up a bead of sweat he sees making its way
down the teen's forehead.
Derek rolls with the urge easily, peppering his mate's face and shoulders with
kisses and bites, the occasional lick thrown in that serves two purposes. It
gathers the addicting taste of Stiles while also making the teen smell more
like him. Pretty soon, only the faintest trace of Stiles' natural scent is
detectable, his mate covered in almost nothing but his own. His hips don't stop
moving the entire time, heedless of the small whimpering sounds Stiles releases
as his over-sensitive cock is rubbed constantly against the come-wet blanket
with every movement. Soon enough, Derek feels his mate try to push against him,
so he rears back and holds himself up by pressing both of his hands right in
the centre of the teen's back, holding him down.
The brutal thrusts Derek has kept up transform into something more languid as
he peers down between their bodies and watches himself disappear into the
teen's tight heat. Even though this is far from their first time together, he
still can't really believe he's able to fit himself completely inside,
especially when his knot is brought into the equation.
Speaking of the bulb of flesh, Derek starts to feel the base of his cock
swelling slightly as his orgasm begins to build in his gut. Stiles obviously
feels it, too, the teen mewling every time he pushes himself forward again and
the small bump stretches his rim further and further.
Changing their positions yet again by wedging his right hand beneath Stiles'
body and pulling him up so that they're pressed flush together once more, Derek
breathes into the side of the teen's face and curls his other hand around his
cock. He strokes over the length slowly and smirks to himself when he feels it
begin to plump up again in his grip. "You want my knot, love? You want my come
plugged up good and tight inside your ass until you feel so full you could
burst?" he rasps, growling deeply in approval when Stiles nods against him,
their cheeks rubbing together. The coarse sideburns of his beta form get matted
down with the sweat and saliva still on the teen's face from when he licked
over his skin earlier. "I'll never get tired of this, of listening to the way
you scream for me when I fuck you hard just like you need. You're so
responsive, I love it. There's no better sight than you lying boneless beneath
me after I've ruined you, all flushed and sweaty, covered in my come..."
Stiles groans as he listens to the litany of filth pouring forth from Derek's
mouth. He never would've guessed that the alpha had such a skill for talking
dirty before they got together, and the recent discovery is one he plans on
taking full advantage of in the future.
Tilting his head slightly, Derek chases after Stiles' mouth, his tongue sliding
past his mate's parted lips and stroking sensually along the teen's own. Their
panted breaths mingle between them as he halts the movement of his hips,
holding himself in place with his cock nearly all of the way out. Stiles is
quick to loose a whine of protest, trying in vain to push back and fill himself
up again, but Derek doesn't let him. The teen's rim clenches and flutters
repeatedly just behind the head of his cock, making him groan as his orgasm
gets closer. "You're in luck, Stiles, 'cause in a minute, I'm gonna knot you
good and hard and give you what you want..." he moans, pushing his hips forward
in one last, smooth thrust that pops his rapidly swelling knot inside his
mate's welcoming hole, pushing it home.
The combined sensations of Derek's hand around his hardness and the alpha's
knot pressing right up against his prostate tip Stiles over the edge for the
second time, his cock shooting two feeble jets of come before his orgasm ends.
Derek roars into Stiles' neck, his sharp teeth clamping down and accidentally
piercing the skin as he experiences his own release. His knot swells to
completion and his cock twitches as it spurts within the warm channel of the
teen's ass, filling him up gradually with every pulse of his slit, his balls
drawing up tight. Stiles' legs give out a few seconds later, causing them both
to flop down onto the blanketed backseat, his sweaty body still covering the
teen's.
As his orgasm keeps on going, Derek's hips work in small circular motions,
burying his knot further and making him shoot even deeper up inside his mate's
ass. Stiles just lies there and takes it, too worn out from coming twice in
such a short space of time to do anything. Derek retracts his fangs and licks
over the small wound he made to soothe the ache from it, his hands stroking up
and down the teen's sides when he feels his body shaking beneath him from the
intensity of it all. The car reeks of their coupling, something about which
Derek vehemently approves. God help the betas if any of them tries to get a
ride from Stiles in the near future. The thought of their faces makes him laugh
gently into his mate's sweat-damp skin. This jostles his knot and causes the
teen to whine in discomfort, so he shuts his mouth again and tries to stop, not
wanting to hurt the wonderful human still lying underneath him.
"You alright?" Derek asks about half an hour later, his orgasm mostly over. His
cock only shoots the occasional jet of come now, and it'll taper off completely
in another few minutes as his knot begins to go down.
Stiles nods into the soft blanket, unable to find the energy to open his mouth.
His limbs are bent at odd angles, and the weight of Derek's muscular body atop
his own makes it a little difficult to get enough oxygen into his lungs, but he
wouldn't change it for the world. He's content as can be.
His knot finally shrinking and his cock beginning to soften, Derek sympathises
with Stiles' wince of pain when he slips out, a steady trail of come following
as he moves back and kneels between his mate's spread legs. He takes both of
the teen's cheeks in his hands and parts them, staring down at the abused ring
of muscle and watching as whiteness continues to leak out. Bending down, he
seals his mouth around Stiles' rim and sucks, swallowing his own come and
running his tongue in soothing circles around the teen's sore hole. He figures
that this will make it easier for Stiles later on, giving him less to clean up.
For his part, Stiles makes a small noise of confusion before going quiet again,
his body remaining limp as he allows Derek to do what he wants. Soon enough,
the alpha is swiping up the last trails of come from Stiles' inner thighs with
his tongue, the teen's skin licked clean.
Sitting up again, Derek smiles fondly when he looks down at Stiles' face and
sees that he's fallen asleep. He takes the side of the blanket that's draped
over the back of the seats and covers his mate with it, almost like he's
tucking him into bed.
Grabbing his jeans from the footwell, Derek clambers out of the car and
shimmies into them before starting the engine and beginning the drive home.
He'll carry Stiles up to bed when they get there, figuring that there's no
point in waking the teen now, given that he'll just be going right back to
sleep a few minutes later. Soon enough, Derek is sliding onto the mattress next
to his mate, cuddling up close beneath the covers and joining him in the land
of dreams.
***** Bloodlines *****
- Friday, August 31st, 2012 -
Stiles opens his eyes and finds himself tucked in bed. He sees the darkness of
his and Derek's bedroom and just assumes it's that way because it's still
nighttime, but when he rolls over onto his back, he realises he's wrong. Derek
is nowhere to be found, and when he looks out of the window, he sees nothing
but black. Flinging back the covers, he slides off of the mattress and pads
over to the glass pane, peering through it and sighing as he comes to the
conclusion that he must be having another vision, this one in his sleep.
Wondering what possible horrifying future event he'll be witnessing this time,
he gets some sweatpants out from the dresser so that he's not wandering around
completely naked and ventures out of the room, his steps cautious. His
vigilance decreases with each room he explores, though, finding nothing out of
the ordinary in any of them.
Guessing that whatever he's meant to see must not be there, Stiles opens the
front door and goes outside, not bothering to shut it behind himself. The
darkness is as ubiquitous as always.
When he gets to the edge of the visible ground, just before where the tree line
would normally be, Stiles frowns when a pathway doesn't immediately open up for
him like it always has in the past. He stands there, baffled, for almost a full
minute before shrugging and turning around to face the house again. The sight
that greets him startles him.
Almost falling backward on his ass, Stiles stumbles a few steps before
regaining his footing, staring open-mouthed up at the house in shock. Where his
and Derek's home stood not even five minutes before is now a building that
looks quite different. It's two storeys tall instead of three, the outside is
painted a rich brown instead of plain white, and there's no wrap-around porch.
Several vehicles are parked in front of it, though both his and Derek's Camaros
aren't among them. He can't figure out what's happening, try as he might. When
he steps closer to the strange house, he picks up on a rumbling emanating from
far away, which gets closer and closer until another car suddenly appears. It
comes forth from the blackness on the outskirts of the clearing before pulling
to a stop next to the other vehicles.
Someone that Stiles feels he knows gets out of the driver's seat. After a few
seconds of staring as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress, he figures
out why the woman seems familiar—he's seen her in Derek's old family photo
albums. It's his mate's mother, Talia Hale.
"What the fuck...?" Stiles rasps, his throat feeling tight as he guesses he
must be seeing the past this time instead of the future. Taking a couple of
aborted steps forward, he freezes again when he notices something which seems
so obvious now that he can't believe he didn't see it earlier. His mother's old
car is parked in between two others, which he assumes belong to other members
of the Hale family. "This is absolutely fucking insane..." He swallows
nervously, his heart beginning to beat faster in his chest at the possibility
that he might see his mother again, even if she isn't actually real. He doesn't
know if he really wants to, since the fact that she's dead is still hard to
deal with years later. Seeing her alive and well again might make it even more
difficult of a weight to carry.
Figuring that he doesn't really have a choice, Stiles snaps out of his daze
when Talia begins walking toward the front door. He follows her, just managing
to slip through the door before she closes it.
A contrast to the outside, the interior of the house looks pretty much the same
as it does in the present, at least judging from the foyer. A man Stiles knows
is Derek's father, Nathan, comes through from the living room to greet Talia,
giving her a kiss on the cheek before informing her that she has a visitor
waiting for her in the study.
When Talia thanks her husband and heads down the hallway, Stiles is stopped
from following her when he hears thundering footsteps approaching from the
direction of the kitchen. Before he can go and investigate, his eyes widen when
the cause of the noise storms through the room and heads up the stairs. Derek
looks around six years old, which Stiles guesses makes sense since he wouldn't
have been born yet and there's an eight-year age difference between them. The
scowl the young boy wears on his face is positively adorable, and Stiles is
fascinated by the fact that his mate often pulls the same expression in the
present, thick eyebrows and all. He watches as Derek ascends the stairs to the
second floor, muttering under his breath about his 'pain-in-the-ass sister from
hell'. He guesses it's Laura the boy is talking about, since Cora wouldn't
exist yet either.
Finally walking through the hallway Talia disappeared down a few seconds ago,
Stiles finds the woman talking to two men in the kitchen, leaning against one
of the counters with a glass of water clutched in one hand.
Stiles' heart skips a beat in fear when he gets a look at each of the men's
identical faces. Jeremy and Landon look fresh out of their teens, a barely
there beard on the former's face. Landon looks vastly different from the last
time Stiles saw him, mainly because his hair isn't bleached ice blond yet and
he doesn't sport any piercings or tattoos.
Quickly getting distracted by the twins' discussion, Stiles doesn't immediately
noticed when Talia leaves the room again. He remains in the kitchen, listen as
Jeremy tries to convince his brother to stop winding their adoptive sister up
and pushing his luck. Stiles guesses that this is the beginning of Landon's
decline into madness, and this theory is backed up since he's already able to
pick up on the smallest trace of it in the man's eyes. It's no wonder Derek
never felt comfortable around this particular uncle. When Landon exits in a
strop, leaving Jeremy to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation,
Stiles finally realises he's lost track of Talia. He doesn't know why, but he
feels something in his gut which tells him it's important he find her again.
Deciding to trust that instinct, Stiles heads back into the hallway and finds a
much younger Deaton standing with his ear pressed against one of the closed
doors. This causes a memory to flash across his mind, of the veterinarian
telling him about the time he overhead a conversation between Talia and his
mother. He guesses this is that day.
"Deaton! What are you doing? You shouldn't be listening in on private matters
that don't concern you."
Nathan's voice is booming and full of judgement, and Stiles watches in
fascination as Deaton nearly leaps out of his skin, springing back from the
door and looking sheepishly down at his feet. "Come on... It's probably time
for you to be thinking about heading home anyway; it's getting late," Nathan
suggests, pressing a hand to the small of Deaton's back to get him moving
toward the front door.
The submissive behaviour displayed by the future veterinarian surprises Stiles,
having never before thought of what the man was like before they met when Scott
got his job at the clinic. He wonders when that changed. When the sound of the
front door opening and closing echoes through from the foyer, he walks
tentatively toward the door Deaton had been eavesdropping through, pressing his
own ear to the wood and listening for voices on the other side. At first, he
doesn't pick up on anything, but after a few seconds, he manages to catch a few
words that he thinks are spoken by Talia. She's asking whoever is in there with
her to tell her what's wrong, to not worry about receiving any judgement in
return for whatever they have to say.
Reaching for the knob, Stiles grins quickly when he finds that he's able to
turn it, the door swinging inward with a gentle push. The people in the room
don't seem to notice that anything has changed as he steps inside to the join
them.
When he turns around after shutting the door again, Stiles sucks in a harsh
breath when he sees his mother sitting on one of the chairs in what he assumes
is the study Nathan spoke of earlier.
Claudia looks young and healthy, an image Stiles sometimes struggles to
remember, the memories he has of her frail and sickly-looking body lying in a
hospital bed overshadowing it most of the times he dares to think of her. She
sits with her hands clasped in her lap, a nervous look on her face as she
remains silent. Her brown hair flops down in front of her face as she refuses
to meet Talia's expectant and understanding face. Stiles steps forward slowly,
the small, idiotic worry blossoming into existence in the back of his mind that
any sudden movements on his part will disrupt the scene in front of him.
Easing himself down into the free chair next to his mother, Stiles watches her,
hardly daring to breathe when she finally starts talking. He wonders briefly
why he's acting so calmly before putting the question out of his mind.
"You probably want to know why I requested a meeting with you, right?" Claudia
asks, looking up and returning Talia's gaze. When the other woman nods, she
continues. "Well, you already know I'm aware of what you and your family are,
but I think I'm ready now to tell you how and why I came here."
Both Stiles and Talia perk up at the same time. Stiles is anxious to hear about
his mother's mysterious past, still not quite able to believe, even with the
evidence staring him right in the face, that she led this whole other life
without telling him anything about it. He listens with rapt attention as she
begins detailing the events that led to her fleeing her home country for
America.
"Back in Poland, I grew up in a coven," Claudia explains, her eyes getting this
far-away look to them as she reminisces about her past. "Most of the town I
lived in was a part of it, and it was made up of several different families. My
mother and aunt were the most powerful witches any of them had seen in years,
so they were immediately made high priestesses, guiding the rest of the coven
through their circles and helping them practice and improve upon their own,
lesser magics. I loved life there. Everything was so fascinating and there was
always something new to learn, so how could I not? When I was around five years
old, my aunt had to step down. She'd gotten pregnant, so she couldn't keep up
with her duties like she was supposed to; her body couldn't handle the strain,
not if she wanted her babies to stay healthy. I don't know what happened, but
for some reason, she left the entire coven halfway through her pregnancy, and
none of us ever heard from her again."
Stiles stares with rapt attention at his mother's face the entire time she's
telling her story, hanging on every word coming from her mouth.
Having always thought that he was just a regular human, at least until the
Nogitsune was expelled from his body and his magic was kickstarted, the fact
that all of his ancestors were a part of the supernatural world as well is
almost too much for Stiles to grasp.
The room flickers suddenly, everything jumping in place for a couple of
seconds. When things go back to normal, Stiles sits up straight in his chair as
he tries to figure out what just happened. His mother's recounting has cut off,
and when he looks back over at her chair, he's surprised when he sees she's no
longer sat in it. Instead, Claudia is now standing in front of the one of the
bookcases, her back turned to him and Talia.
"How is it I've never heard of you before? I would've thought something
happening that's as bad as what you just told me would've gotten around in
supernatural circles," Talia asks. She remains sat behind her desk, leaning
back in the large chair with her hands gripping the ends of the armrests at her
sides. She projects such an air of confidence and power that Stiles has
absolutely no trouble believing all of the stories Derek has told him about her
in recent months. He can definitely see why she was the alpha at the time.
Talia's question clues Stiles into the fact that the memory he thinks he's
seeing has skipped forward a few minutes, cutting out all of the important
parts. He grows frustrated about this, having been incredibly curious about how
his mother's tale ends.
"I changed my name as soon as I fled to the States. My real name is Cesia
Kowalczyk," Claudia answers, keeping her back turned. Her voice drips with
loss.
Stiles immediately commits the name to memory, already planning on finding out
everything he can about it whenever he wakes up again. The Internet can prove
to be a very valuable source, and he's grown even more adept at using it since
Danny entered the pack, always eager to learn and master any small hacking tip
the Hawaiian teen is willing to offer him. He's spent a few nights in recent
months just sitting and looking over Danny's shoulder as the other boy hacks
into things for fun, finding the whole process fascinating. He wishes he could
do it as well as the beta, but then again, he wouldn't want to take away one of
the things that makes Danny such a unique asset to the pack. He would hate if
someone tried to do something like that to him.
As soon as his mother reveals her name, the scene in front of Stiles flickers
again before disappearing altogether, the room transforming into his and
Derek's present-day study. "What?! That can't be everything!" he shouts with
rage, leaping to his feet.
Running outside into the hallway to see if anything else is going on elsewhere,
Stiles is disturbed to find that parts of the house are bathed in darkness.
Finding that it's almost like a pathway, Stiles follows it as it leads him back
into the foyer and up the stairs to the second floor. It's eery seeing his
beloved home that way, and he's unable to remember it seeming quite this bad
the other time he saw it in one of his visions. He keeps his gait slow, his
ears and eyes all open and on the lookout the tiniest sound or sight that will
reveal what he's still doing there. The illuminated sections of the house lead
him down the second floor hallway. He tries to open all of the doors he walks
past, unsurprised to find that none of them budge an inch since he didn't think
there would be anything of interest in the betas' bedrooms anyway.
The last door, the one right at the end of the hallway, almost tucked out of
sight, is a different story. The knobs turns easily, and Stiles stands there
for a few seconds to gather his courage before pushing the door inward.
Stiles glances around uneasily as he steps into the room, not really feeling
comfortable being in there, especially not when the door closes on its own
after he crosses the threshold. Kept within are most of his parents' things.
It's a tenuous balance he's kept ever since he moved in with Derek all those
months ago. While he can't bear to actually see everything, not even on his
good days, he likes knowing that it's close, within reach just behind a door
should he ever feel brave enough to lay his eyes on it all at some point in the
future.
Given the revelation he just overheard, Stiles assumes that whatever else his
vision is trying to tell him must have something to do with that room. Should
he search through everything, it wouldn't shock him now if he were to come
across some secret item he never knew about before.
After his mother's death, the packing up of all her things was left to Stiles,
since his father became inconsolable and couldn't help if he even so much as
saw a glimpse of his late wife's face or one of her dresses. Stiles was still
dealing with too much of his own grief to give anything more than a passing
glance as he shoved it all away into boxes and sealed them shut with an
excessive amount of parcel tape. He wrote 'MOM'S STUFF' on the side of all of
them before putting them in their designated corner of the attic, where they
spent years gathering dust. He doesn't think they were ever touched again until
the betas helped clean up the old house after his dad's funeral.
As it is, Stiles hasn't been inside this room for more than a second since he
moved in with Derek and put all the stuff there, the memories still too painful
to even contemplate staying any longer.
Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that Stiles has much of a choice now, since
his curiosity is too great to even think about backing out now that his vision
has lead him there. He wishes it would be more specific, though, because he
doesn't remember what items are in which boxes and he really doesn't want to go
through every single one looking for whatever he's supposed to find.
After releasing a long sigh, Stiles moves forward, intent on doing just that.
He doesn't get very far. As soon as his fingers skate over the top of the first
box, everything seems to disintegrate into dust, floating away through the
walls on a nonexistent breeze. It's the same thing that happened to the two
doubles of himself when Derek joined him in a vision that one time, only now it
infuriates him instead of filling him with relief. Just when he'd worked up the
massive amount of courage needed to go sleuthing, his efforts have been
rendered pointless in the blink of an eye before he even had a chance to pull
off the first piece of tape. Groaning, he sits himself down on the ground
moodily, thinking the room looks strange now that it's completely empty again.
Blinking a couple of times, Stiles holds a hand up to his head when he begins
to feel dizzy, the plain walls spinning around him. When he lowers his arm and
looks down at his palm, his eyes widen when he sees the substantial amount of
blood on his pale skin, staining it a shocking red. Almost as if the floodgates
have burst open, his vision becomes clouded with the colour as well, wetness
trailing down from his forehead and into his eyes before flowing in long
streams onto his clothes.
His eyes rolling back in his head, the last thing Stiles registers is someone
screaming his name, the hoarse, panicked sound seeming far off in the distance.
                                     * * *
Stiles jackknifes awake to his alarm going off, the clock on the nightstand
beeping incessantly until he reaches over blindly and smashes his palm down
over the button on the top. He can feel Derek stirring behind him, and it takes
his mind a while to clear and for him to realise that he doesn't remember how
he got from the car to the bed. He assumes that Derek must have carried him up
once he passed out. When he moves and feels no stickiness between his thighs,
he also guesses that his mate took care of the cleanup from the previous
night's more amorous activities as well. He grins to himself at the memory, his
ass clenching reflexively around nothing as he recalls having Derek buried deep
inside of him again. Just the thought of it never gets old. It's then that he
notices his heart is racing, a strange realisation since he's done nothing but
lie there in the minutes since he opened his eyes.
Blinking a couple of times, Stiles sits up and tries to recall what his dream
was about. It's foggy for the most part, but he knows there's something
significant hidden within it. He watches with casual interest as Derek slides
out of bed and moves about the room, all the while continuing to wrack his
brain.
After he still comes up with nothing, Stiles sighs and copies his mate,
deciding to come back to it at a later time and just focus instead on getting
ready for school.
Everything proceeds normally until he gets out into the hallway and sees a
flash of a memory in his mind. Stiles remembers walking down to the other end
very recently, but he can't figure out why in the hell he would even dare to do
that, having never wanted to put himself through the heartache before then. He
must stand there for a very long time, stuck in his own head, because the next
thing he knows, Derek is stood before him, waving a hand in front of his face
with a look of concern painted across his own. "Umm, wha-?" he asks dumbly,
blinking up at the alpha in confusion as he comes back to himself.
"Finally! I've been trying to get your attention for almost a full minute now,"
Derek responds, frowning and resting his hand on Stiles' shoulder before giving
him a little shake. He looks down at the watch wrapped around his wrist.
"Shouldn't you be leaving for school? You're going to be late if you leave it
any longer."
Grabbing Derek's wrist to check the time himself, Stiles groans to himself
before pecking his wolf chastely on the lips and racing down the stairs.
After spending the entirety of the drive to school lamenting the fact that his
stomach is empty and growling at him in protest, Stiles pulls into one of the
last empty spaces in the parking lot and hops out of his car. He grabs the
strap of his backpack and slings it over his shoulder before joining the last
few other stragglers as they enter the main building, hoping when the bell
rings that it's the first time and not the second.
Taking a seat between Lydia and Erica when he rushes as quietly as he can into
his AP Math class, he mouths a silent 'thank you' to each girl for keeping it
free for him. Placing his bag on the desk, he shuffles through everything
inside, searching for his notebook and groaning loudly when he doesn't find it.
He slaps a hand over his mouth when he notices the teacher glaring at him from
where she stands in front of the blackboard, blushing intensely after she
finally breaks eye contact and goes back to writing a series of complicated
equations in white chalk. Closing his bag again, he knocks it off of his desk
and lets it fall with a soft thud to the floor, settling himself in for a
tedious hour where he'll learn nothing, until Lydia slides a spare notebook
across to him a few minutes later, that is. She's scrawled a neat message of
'Idiot' at the top of the first page, and he barely suppresses a chuckle as he
reads it.
The rest of the class passes surprisingly quickly. Stiles' mind keeps trying to
slip back to earlier that morning whenever it's not otherwise occupied taking
down notes or whenever he's called up to the front to solve an equation on the
blackboard.
Just like that morning, nothing concrete comes to him, making Stiles antsy.
Usually, being unable to remember his dreams is something of a blessing, as
about half of the times he does, he wishes he hadn't, his dreams turning out to
be nightmares of the worst calibre. This time, though, something in the back of
his mind keeps telling him that whatever he saw in his sleep is important and
that he should keep trying to remember it.
Walking out of the classroom when the next bell rings, Stiles rips the pages
he'd written in out of Lydia's notebook and hands it back to her when she falls
in step next to him.
They share most of their classes that day, so for the most part, they stay
glued to each other's sides. It would've been a dream come true for Stiles just
a year before, but now it just feels like a normal occurrence. Even the thought
that it seems normal now is stranger than the fact itself.
Stiles is a little concerned when he doesn't see a single trace of Charlie at
any point throughout the day, but after sending the girl a quick text, his
worries are put to rest when he receives a reply almost immediately, telling
him that she's just a little under the weather and that it's nothing serious.
He supposes it'll make one thing easier: he won't have to try and come up with
some flimsy excuse about why she can't join the pack when they all gather
outside of the main entrance just after the final bell of the day rings, ready
to go to the weekly training session that Derek forces them all to take part
in. Only Stiles and Lydia are exempt, Stiles because he has his separate
sessions with Deaton and Lydia because she chooses to be.
When Stiles pulls up at the house, the rest of the pack coming to a stop behind
him and taking up the majority of the front yard, he gets out of his Camaro and
looks up to find Derek stood at the top of the front steps. The alpha leans
against one of the posts that supports the wrap-around porch, already clad in
his workout clothes as he watches everybody else exit their vehicles with an
expectant expression on his face.
"Yo, Sourwolf," Stiles greets as he walks up the front steps, kissing the man
briefly on his bearded cheek before entering the house, already planning on
what snacks he can make the puppies for when Derek has finished putting them
through their paces again.
Most of the rest of the pack follows Stiles inside, heading up to their
designated bedrooms and changing into their own more appropriate clothing
before joining Derek in the back garden to get started.
Stiles watches the session progress through the kitchen window, feeling like a
50s housewife as he puts some cookies in the oven—the fact that he's wearing
the frilly apron Cora got him for his birthday doesn't help matters, but he
just shrugs to himself, deciding to pay no mind to gender stereotypes since
he's happy with the little routine he has going on.
While he's washing the dishes in the sink, Stiles gets a little sidetracked
watching Derek throw the betas around through the window. He doesn't worry
about any of them getting hurt; the man has improved a lot on his control as an
alpha since those first disastrous few weeks when he had a penchant for getting
a tad too rough. There's still the odd occasion when someone will get
injured—with claws and fangs and preternatural strength, it's still going to
happen from time to time no matter how careful they all are—in which case
Stiles will make them a little something special to help them feel better while
they wait for whatever wound or broken bone they got to heal.
When he guesses they're about halfway done with the session, Stiles grabs
eleven bottles of Gatorade from the fridge, one for everybody but himself, and
heads through the back door.
Putting the bottles down on the picnic table that's positioned a little off to
the side of the steps, Stiles sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles to
get everybody's attention, smirking when they all freeze and stare over at him
in confusion. He wonders how long it'll take them to cotton on to the fact that
he does this every time they train, though he guesses that if it hasn't
happened already, it probably won't at all.
Making sure to snag one of the blue bottles beforehand since that's Derek's
favourite, Stiles points to the others and watches with great amusement as the
tops are all immediately twisted off and the cold, brightly coloured liquid
held within is subsequently chugged down at record speed by the betas and
Allison. When Derek saunters over to him, his tank top absurdly and deliciously
tight, sweat beginning to stain the light grey material dark, Stiles hands over
his mate's own drink without a word, watching his wolf's throat work with
appreciation when he tips his head back. He hears chuckling coming from behind,
the betas no doubt laughing at how easily enamoured he gets whenever he sees
Derek like this, but he doesn't care what they think.
Derek quirks an eyebrow and huffs quietly as he wipes his mouth with the back
of his hand, grinning knowingly at Stiles, his expression promising nothing but
dirty things once the session is over.
"Can you two drool all over each other on your own time, please?" Erica asks
with a bored tone, readjusting her ponytail to make sure all of her hair is
still secured by the tie at the back of her head. "I'd like to get this over
with already so I can go home and take a nice hot shower... You guys can eye-
fuck all you want when we're long gone, OK?"
His face promptly turning red, Stiles scuttles back inside to avoid any more
humiliation, mumbling that he should probably keep an eye on the cookies
anyway. Even so, he makes sure to continue watching how things progress through
the window, taking out his phone and inserting it into the small stereo system
he keeps in the kitchen for times just like this one. He taps his foot along to
the beat, singing along quietly under his breath and still somehow managing to
sound off-key. It's when he's pulling the fully baked cookies from the oven
that he notices something is wrong outside. Peering through the glass with his
brow furrowed in confusion, he pulls off his oven gloves and apron before
exiting the house again, not bothering to shut the back door behind himself
this time.
The pack is gathered in a tight circle, and Stiles struggles to wedge himself
through one of the gaps until Derek shouts at them all to 'step back and give
her some space'.
Derek is crouched down on the ground next to Erica, looking incredibly unsure
of himself as the girl writhes in front of him, gripped by a seizure. "What the
hell happened?!" Stiles exclaims, skidding to a halt and crashing down to his
knees on Erica's other side.
Seeing that his mate still doesn't appear to know what to do with himself,
Stiles guides Derek to hold on to his beta to stop her from accidentally
injuring herself while he wracks his own brain, trying to remember everything
he's ever read about epilepsy. Even though ridding herself of the disorder was
the main reason Erica took the bite in the first place, it's not uncommon
knowledge now that extenuating circumstances can still potentially trigger a
seizure, like getting scratched by a kanima's claws. After Stiles fully took on
his role as the alpha's mate and both his mother-henning and his protective
instincts got more intense, he read up extensively on the subject in case it
ever happened again, wanting to be better prepared.
Stiles keeps Derek in position until it looks like Erica is coming out of it,
the muscles of her body losing their tension before a pained groan escapes her
mouth.
Assuming her advanced healing will be kicking in at any moment, Stiles
instructs Derek to carry Erica carefully inside, laying her down across the
sofa in the living room. After a few minutes, however, the blonde still doesn't
show any signs of reawakening, her eyes remaining closed even though her
breathing is uneven. Stiles grows worried and turns back to Derek, who looks as
baffled as he feels. "What happened?" he asks again.
Derek shakes his head as he paces back and forth, his wolf restless inside of
his head because something happened to one of their betas. "I have no idea..."
he replies, sighing and flopping down in one of the armchairs. "Everything was
going fine; we were all training and nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Then, all of sudden, Erica complained about feeling a little off, so I told her
take a five-minute break. When she was walking over to the table to sit down,
she just collapsed and started shaking!" His voice grows more distressed as he
explains the events to Stiles, feeling completely useless and ashamed of
himself because he didn't know what to do until his mate came out to help and
told him.
"OK, relax, Sourwolf," Stiles soothes, briefly leaving his spot next to the
sofa Erica is stretched out on to grasp Derek's hand and give it a firm
squeeze. "I don't think she's in any real danger now, so I want you to calm
yourself down, OK? You did nothing wrong."
Waiting until Derek gives him a jerky nod, Stiles shuffles back over to Erica
and lays his hand on her forehead, frowning when he finds that her skin feels
overheated. It's not just the werewolf higher-than-human body temperature; it's
like she's burning up. It's incredibly unusual for a werewolf, but he doesn't
let his concern show, not wanting to accidentally upset Derek again. "Right, I
think I remember reading about something that'll help, so everybody wait here
while I double check a couple of things," he instructs, striding right through
the rest of the pack as they continue to stand gathered in the doorway that
leads through to the foyer. He jogs up the two flights of stairs until he gets
to the library on the third floor, quickly scanning the shelves that contain
the books on magic Deaton gave him when they first began training together.
A minute later, Stiles finds the book he's looking for, pulling it out and
dropping it carefully down onto the desk that's standing nearby. He flips
through the pages until he gets to the section he wants.
Reading through the text as fast as he can manage, Stiles nods to himself and
commits the words to memory before exiting the room again. He ignores
everybody's confused stares and just goes straight out the front door instead
of rejoining them in the living room, walking over to his car and rummaging
through the footwell on the front passenger-side.
"Stiles? What are you doing?" Derek asks when his mate comes back inside,
carrying a small, nondescript paper bag in his hand. He rises from his seat to
follow the teen into the kitchen.
"I just wanna make one-hundred percent sure that Erica'll be fine, so I'm gonna
try something," Stiles replies, his voice slightly muffled because he's
crouched with his head stuck in the cupboard under the sink. He reemerges a few
seconds later with a mortar and pestle clutched in his free hand, which he
promptly places on the kitchen island. Unrolling the top of the bag he still
carries, he upends it so that its contents top out onto the countertop next to
the mortar. After running through the list of ingredients in his head, he sorts
through everything Elizabeth gave him, not paying Derek any mind when the alpha
comes closer to get a better look at what he's doing. Luckily, everything he
needs was in the bag, so he pushes aside what he isn't going to use before
putting what he is into the mortar one by one and beginning to crush it all
together using the pestle.
When everything is combined together into a uniform powder, Stiles tips it into
a clean glass before filling it the rest of the way with water. The powder
doesn't dissolve—it floats around the clear liquid instead and turns it into a
sickly green colour.
"OK...this is a sort of 'blanket remedy', I guess you could say," Stiles
explains finally as he reenters the living room. He shoos away the betas when
he finds that they've gathered close to Erica in his and Derek's absence,
crouching down next to her again when they move. "It covers most standard
ailments, so hopefully it'll do the trick, and if there's nothing actually
wrong with her, it'll just act like a pick-me-up. Someone prop her up; she
needs to drink this and I don't think it's gonna taste very good..."
Boyd steps forward and gently eases an arm under Erica's shoulders, pulling her
up and taking the seat that her head previously filled. She ends up leaning
against his side.
Moving a bit closer, Stiles brushes a stray lock of blonde hair out of Erica's
face before positioning the rim of the glass at her lips. Tipping her head back
the tiniest bit so that her lips part, he begins slowly pouring the remedy into
her mouth, pausing every few seconds so that she doesn't choke. For her part,
Erica's body knows what to do, swallowing automatically each time her mouth is
filled until all of the liquid is gone. Setting the glass down on the coffee
table, Stiles leans back and lets out a long breath. "OK...now we wait and see
if that worked," he mutters, sitting on his heels as he keeps a hand over the
blonde's forehead, his hope for a full recovery getting bigger when he feels
the high temperature ease off slightly beneath his palm.
Seeing that everyone else is still stood around awkwardly as they wait, Stiles
pushes himself up to stand straight and stretches his arms above his head, his
body slightly stiff from being folded up for so long. "Why don't you all go get
washed up? I think we can call this training session pretty much done, right
Der?" he suggests, glancing briefly at the alpha for confirmation.
Of course, Boyd doesn't move to follow the instruction like the rest of the
betas, remaining glued predictably to his girlfriend's side instead.
While he waits for any change in Erica's condition, Stiles returns to the
kitchen and begins transferring the cookies he made earlier from the baking
tray onto a large plate for the betas to feast on. He leaves everything else
where it is, planning to clean it all up later once everyone else has left.
It's not long before all of the betas have finished washing that day's training
session from their bodies, returning to the ground floor clad once more in
their regular clothes and taking up seats in the living room. Several of them
end up sat on the floor around the coffee table because the sofa is still taken
up by Boyd and Erica's unconscious form. To distract themselves, the television
is turned on, some old rerun of Desperate Housewives playing across the screen.
It says a lot about how shaken up all of them are that none of the boys protest
the choice in programming, the group of them just sitting in silence instead.
They eat absentmindedly when Stiles brings the plate of cookies through for
them, not really getting the intense enjoyment out of the delicious discs that
they usually would.
Erica wakes up again about half an hour later. She groans quietly as she pushes
herself up, her body still supported by Boyd's since she appears so weak. "Ugh,
what the hell...?" she grumbles groggily.
"Hey, hey, hey, take it easy!" Stiles hastens to order when he sees Erica
trying to get up before he thinks she's ready. He nudges Danny out of the way
so he can wedge himself between the coffee table and the sofa and pushes gently
on her shoulders to keep her sitting, only allowing her to swing her legs
sideways so that her feet touch the floor and she's propped up against the
cushions at her back. He retracts his hand when she brushes it off a second
later. "How are you feeling?" A quick check tells him that her temperature has
returned to normal, which is a relief. Her eyes are still a little unfocused
when she blinks up at him, but he takes it as a win regardless.
Erica frowns at Stiles' question, wondering how she ended up in the living
room. The last thing she remembers is feeling a little bit dizzy and asking
Derek for a break. "I feel fine. Why?" she replies, smacking her lips and
grimacing when she registers the awful taste in her mouth.
"You had a seizure," Stiles explains, smiling up at Derek gratefully when the
alpha appears out of nowhere with another bottle of Gatorade in his hand. He
takes it and offers it to Erica immediately, not having missed the disgusted
expression that flashed across her face a second earlier. "Yeah...sorry about
that. I had to give you something to get you better faster." He's a little
worried when he realises he can't see the confidence Erica usually has burning
in her eyes, which sometimes borders on arrogance, but he supposes it's
understandable that she'd be a little unsettled given the circumstances.
"Oh..." Erica mumbles, looking down and leaning a little more into Boyd's side
when the silent boy pulls her closer.
Feeling thrown and masking it with irritation, Erica's mind races as she tries
to come to terms with her body's betrayal. She doesn't like the reminder of how
pathetic she used to be before receiving the bite and wonders why it keeps
happening even though she's a werewolf now, especially since Derek promised
that fateful day in the hospital that the change would get rid of it for good.
Still, she keeps a lid on her anger, refusing to direct it at the alpha because
she knows none of this is actually his fault.
"If you're sure you're feeling OK now, maybe it would be a good idea to head
home early?" Stiles ventures, glancing sideways at Boyd and inclining his head
toward the blonde when their eyes meet. "I think what you need right now is a
good long rest in your own bed."
Standing, Stiles takes the television remote from Scott and switches off the
screen, raising an eyebrow at the crooked-jawed beta when he looks like he's
going to protest. "It's probably a good idea for you to all head home
yourselves," he points out, picking up the now-empty plate from the coffee
table and carrying it through to the kitchen. He's pleased to find all of the
betas in the middle of gathering their things when he returns, bidding each one
of them farewell as they trickle out of the front door and into their
respective cars. "Don't forget about the full moon tonight! Everyone stay
safe!"
Erica and Boyd are the last two to leave, the blonde's movements still a little
sluggish even though she puts on a brave face. Stiles stays at the door and
watches as they drive away, silently wishing his Catwoman a speedy recovery.
                                     * * *
A short while later, Stiles is still a little unnerved by what happened. He
busies himself with cleaning everything up, washing the bowl he used to mix all
the spell ingredients in before standing it upside down in the drying rack next
to the sink. He's even more grateful now to Deaton for making him read all of
those books in the last few months, even when it grew tedious; he doesn't want
to think about what might have happened had that knowledge not been sat in the
back of his brain. He guesses that even the ones Holly forced him to read will
reveal their uses sooner or later. It's his recalling of those long hours that
somehow flips a switch in his mind. Almost as if someone has shone a bright
spotlight on the dream he had the night before, everything becomes crystal
clear, in focus, and he remembers everything.
His body freezing halfway through drying his hands with a dishtowel, Stiles
drops it right there in the middle of the kitchen, not caring that it lands on
floor where anyone could trip over it. He can't believe that he forgot about
something so important.
The name his mother revealed in his vision...he's come across it before.
Not even stopping to put on something warmer, Stiles races through the house
and flings open the front door, unable to hear Derek as the alpha questions him
about where he's going in such a hurry. He fumbles with his keys before getting
in his car and driving off, the tyres screeching as he peels down the road in
the direction of the veterinary clinic. While he thinks he's remembering it
correctly, he needs to make absolutely sure he's right.
The place is closed when he squeals to a stop in the small parking lot at the
back entrance. The oddness of that fact only registers for a brief second, that
Deaton should be there working, before he dismisses it to come back to later
when there aren't more pressing matters at hand.
Not caring if anyone sees him or about the damage he's about to cause, he
focuses his power until his hand starts to burn hot before holding his palm
over the lock on the door. He doesn't take it back even when the metal starts
to melt under the intense heat, watching as it drips down onto the ground and
mixes with the gravel before drying and hardening. It'll probably be a bitch to
get rid of for whoever ends up having to clean it, but he doesn't care; he just
keeps on going until the handle is nearly completely gone, the lock rendered
useless as the door swings open. Grinning to himself, he strides inside and
slams it shut behind himself before yanking open the cupboards he remembers
Holly getting the books from in their last session, almost pulling the doors
off of their hinges in his haste. He fumbles through all of the thick tomes
within and pulls out the ones he recognises.
Each book gets dropped carelessly onto the countertop below until Stiles finds
the specific one he's looking for, the one that gave a detailed account of
coven in Poland many years ago. Now that he has it clutched to his chest, his
movements become less hurried, the fast beating of his heart finally slowing
down to somewhere in the realm of normal.
With shaking hands, Stiles balances the book on one of his arms before flipping
it open to the first page. He runs a finger reverently over the short,
handwritten message that looks back at him from the centre of the paper.
'To my darling Cesia. May these pages be filled with enough knowledge and magic
to light up your world even on the darkest of nights.
—love, Mother'
His earlier remembrance confirmed, Stiles takes a deep breath before closing
the book and making his way back outside, intent on taking it home and
rereading every single word with a more critical eye. Placing it right next to
himself on the passenger seat, he can't help but glance over at it every single
time there's pause in his driving, whether from a stop sign or a red light.
He's incredibly anxious to see what secrets lay hidden within, already knowing
that he won't be giving it back to Deaton when he's finished, not now that he
knows it contains his mother's words, each one of them precious. He guesses the
vet will understand. If not...then that's his problem, he figures.
Stiles finds Derek waiting for him right inside the front door. The alpha
stands there silently with his arms crossed over his impressive chest, his
concerned eyes flicking down to glance at the book held in his arms before
returning to his face.
"Where did you rush off to so suddenly?" Derek asks, finally breaking the
silence. He follows Stiles when his mate gestures for him to do so, trailing
after the teen like a confused puppy all the way up to the library on the third
floor. He watches as Stiles sits down in one of the comfy armchairs next to the
window and stares down at the book in his lap. "What is that?"
"You remember when I zoned out this morning?" Stiles answers finally, his voice
quiet as he tears his eyes away from the book to look up at Derek, just in time
to catch the alpha's nod of assent. "Well...the reason for that was because I
was trying to remember something I dreamed about last night, something
involving the room I keep all my parents' things in. No matter how hard I
tried, nothing came to me. When I was cleaning everything up after Erica and
Boyd left, I was thinking back to all the stuff I read in that last session
with Holly...and I remembered. It was another vision, a memory, but not one of
mine." He taps his finger on the cover of the book. "I saw what Deaton was
talking about before, of when he overheard a conversation my mom had with
yours. She told your mom her real name, and I think this book used to belong to
her."
Derek takes a seat in the second armchair, leaning forward and resting his
elbows on his knees. "Are you sure? I mean...I believe you and everything, but
this all sounds pretty convenient," he points out, peering curiously at the
book when Stiles flips it open to the first page. He reads the writing there
with a frown.
"I have no idea how it got from my mom to Deaton—mark my words: I will be
asking him about that later—but yeah, I'm sure," Stiles replies, handing the
book over to Derek to look at more closely.
Leaving his mate to read to his heart's content, Stiles quickly retrieves his
laptop from downstairs before rejoining the alpha, switching it on and typing
his mother's name into a programme Danny made for him to aid his research. It
works like any other search engine, really, only it's much more efficient and
goes deeper into the web than all of the standard ones. He clicks result after
result, looking for anything that could be about his mother. His hope that
he'll be able to easily find out what happened to her back in Poland gets
smaller as each one is revealed to be about another woman entirely. Either they
were born too long ago to be his mom, or they never lived in the European
country.
Eventually, Stiles is forced to concede that he's either missing something
obvious—highly unlikely—or that there's just nothing to find. He slams the
laptop shut and runs his hands down his face, letting out a loud groan of
annoyance that causes Derek to stop reading and look over at him in concern.
"Everything OK?" Derek asks slowly, not wanting to accidentally set Stiles off.
He carefully closes the book in his lap before placing it on the small table
that sits between them.
Flopping his head back, Stiles sighs deeply before answering. "Yeah... I was
seeing if I could find anything online about my mom's old life, but nope,
there's nothing. Absolutely nothing," he mumbles, wondering where he can go
from there. "I guess it makes sense; Deaton said she was running from
something, so if you're planning on changing your name and moving to another
country, wiping out every trace of your previous existence seems like a pretty
good way to go to me." His stomach rumbling, he takes his laptop and his
mother's old diary and heads back downstairs with Derek trailing along behind.
After dumping both things in the living room, he proceeds into the kitchen and
begins ferreting through the cupboards for something to satiate his appetite.
Derek sits on one of the stools around the island and watches Stiles work. "You
know, if that book still exists, there must be other stuff out there somewhere
for you to find," he offers after a few minutes, wanting to get rid of the
dejected expression on his mate's face.
"I hope you're right," Stiles replies, getting out the ingredients for
burritos. He still has to check through all of his mother's old things
upstairs, and he prays that he works up the courage to do so by the time
they're done with dinner. When the food is ready a short while later, they take
it through to the living room to eat in front of the television, neither one
really speaking. If Derek can tell that his mind is still focused on other
things, he's grateful to the man for not calling him out on it and just
accepting that he needs time. His mate really is perfect.
The rest of the afternoon and the evening flies by before they know it. Derek
goes up to bed a little earlier than usual, worn out because his day has been a
taxing one and because he didn't get any sleep the night before.
This leaves Stiles to stew alone in his curiosity downstairs.
The teen repeatedly talks himself out of actually going to investigate what he
saw in his vision the previous night, his nerve crumbling into nothing every
time he gets up from the sofa with the intention of finally putting himself out
of his misery. This goes on for quite a while, until it gets close to midnight
and his eyes begin to droop. Derek is already asleep when he gets up to their
bedroom, and it's when he's brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the
mirror that he decides he's just being stupid. Spitting the toothpaste in his
mouth down the drain, he storms back out into the hallway and doesn't stop
until he reaches the other end. Swallowing tightly and giving himself one last
pep talk, he finally bites the bullet, turning the knob and entering the room.
All of his parents' things are split up on opposite sides, which makes it a lot
easier for Stiles to sort through it all. His dad's death is still too fresh
for him to give the left side of the room more than a passing glance, so he
sits down in the middle of the hardwood floor and pulls the first of his
mother's boxes closer before ripping off the tape. "No going back now..." he
breathes, his hands shaking as he pulls back the flaps and looks down at the
things held within.
One by one, Stiles goes through all of the boxes containing his mother's old
possessions. He's surprised that he holds himself together reasonably well, the
ache in his chest remaining bearable.
The smell of his mother's old perfume wafts up in his face when he opens the
fourth box, and he finds the half-empty bottle right at the bottom, tucked into
one of the corners. Since the woman didn't wear it near the end of her life,
the scent brings back nothing but good memories. He actually leaves the bottle
out to keep, planning on leaving it on the dresser in his and Derek's bedroom
to use any time he needs a little cheering up and the alpha isn't around to
help. Even though he has yet to come across anything with any relevance to his
mother's old life, he's still glad he's finally sorting through all of her
stuff. It feels incredibly cathartic, and he can't wait until enough time has
passed and feels comfortable doing this with his dad's things as well.
After putting his mother's dresses back inside of their box, the last one,
Stiles smiles sadly to himself and makes to get up from the floor and call it a
day. As he nears the door, however, he catches sight of something out of the
corner of his eye. It's an old trunk, hidden at the back of the room with his
dad's things. He doesn't recognise it, but the floral pattern makes him think
it must've gotten put there by mistake.
Pulling the trunk out so that he can get a better look, he runs his fingers
along the edges and knows instinctively that this is what his dream was trying
to tell him about.
Undoing the clasps, Stiles' tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he
flips open the lid and stares down at what's inside. He's a little confused at
first when he just finds more clothes, but after pulling them all out to see
what else is underneath, he finds the smallest groove at the edge of the very
bottom. Wedging his fingernails inside, he gives it a little tug and frowns
when nothing gives at first. A couple more tries yield the same results, but
when he lines his free hand up with where his fingers are inside, he's sure
there's something hidden beneath. It's not much of a gap, just a few
centimetres, but it's enough to ramp his curiosity up to new levels now that
he's so close to something concrete.
Inspecting the trunk more closely, Stiles tries to find some sort of switch or
catch that'll release the false bottom and give him access to whatever remains
of his mother's past life she felt were important enough to keep with her.
"Ugh, come on, mom! You owe me this!" Stiles grits out between his teeth,
getting frustrated when he still can't figure out how to get inside. Almost as
if those were the magic words, he feels something surge beneath the hand he
still has pressed to the bottom of the trunk, like a spark of electricity.
Flailing backward in shock, he pauses for a moment in wonder when he sees that
the bottom appears loose now. Moving slowly, he pulls it out and stares at
what's revealed.
The rest of the trunk is filled with what looks like mountain ash. His mother
obviously wanted to protect whatever's there, so Stiles is cautious as he
sticks his hand inside once more, burying his fingers in the silvery-grey
powder and searching through it until they make contact with something.
Blowing the ash from its surface, Stiles pulls out a thick book that looks
similar to the one still downstairs on the coffee table. Looking at the first
couple of pages, he finds that it's the next one of his mother's diaries,
chronicling her teenage years. Along with that, he finds two more books, one
written by his mother in her early twenties and another written by a woman
who's name he doesn't recognise at first. It seems familiar, though, and after
a couple of minutes spent wracking his brain, he remembers why. The third book
belonged to his grandmother, but it's only filled halfway with writing. The
last entry is dated in the middle of 1988, six years before his birth. If
that's around the same time the woman died, he guesses it solves the mystery of
why he's never met her.
Stiles has never even really heard that much about his grandmother, and since
his mother was allegedly running from some great disaster or tragedy, he
supposes it's a possibility that her own mother was part of it and that's why
she didn't talk about her often.
In fact, looking back on his childhood now, Stiles realises that he never heard
his mother talk about any of her relatives or her youth, and because of his
grief after she died, his dad never did either.
He's been living this blissfully ignorant life for years, the woman only
existing as the perfect mother he saw her as. It's a bit of a shock to Stiles
to have the blindfold pulled off so suddenly. Shaking himself out of his
thoughts, he checks one last time for anything else hidden within the mountain
ash and finds something else right at the very bottom, something very thin.
Pulling that out, too, his heart stops when he sees that it's a sealed
envelope, on the back of which his name is written—'To my little Stiles'. He
knows that handwriting. Dropping everything else, he tears into the envelope
and takes out the letter within before unfolding the paper and beginning to
read.
***** Letters *****
Soon after leaving Stiles and Derek's house with the rest of the pack, Scott is
preparing for his next shift helping Deaton at the veterinary clinic. Allison
and Kira have both gone to the huntress's house to wait until he finishes a few
hours later.
Hopping on his bike, Scott eases awkwardly out of the driveway after waving a
quick goodbye to his mother, who is busy getting ready for her own shift at the
hospital. The ride to the clinic isn't a very long or exciting one, so when he
comes to a stop in the parking lot around the back of the building and pulls
his helmet off, he's excited to get started. Locking his bike up, he steps up
to the door and frowns when he scents something strange in the air. Looking
around, it takes him a second to pinpoint where the odd odour comes from
because the wind keeps blowing in different directions, but when he does, he
crouches down low to the ground and inspects the source more closely.
Reaching out a tentative hand, Scott touches the metal embedded in the gravel
with his index finger, a little worried that he'll find it's still hot and that
he'll end up burning himself. When nothing of the sort happens, he grows a bit
bolder, prodding the lump with more confidence.
Wondering where on earth the melted metal came from, he makes to stand again
and freezes halfway to his feet when his eyes catch on the door handle.
Tilting his head to the side, Scott is immediately put on edge at the
realisation that someone has broken into the clinic. He can't detect a trail of
anybody else's scent in the area, neither new or old, because the air is too
polluted with a metallic tang that has begun to irritate his nose. Pushing the
door open fully, the wood knocking gently against the wall inside, he steps
into the building and keeps his ears open for any hushed whispering or the
scuffing of shoes on the hard floor. He doesn't pick up on anything like that,
though, so he steps further into the examination room and looks over the
countertops and the metal table, frowning when he sees that several of the
cupboards have been left open and that there are a multitude of books strewn
haphazardly about the place.
Having had the previous week off, Scott doesn't immediately jump to conclusions
because it's been a while since he was last there. He pulls out his phone and
dials Deaton's number, guessing and hoping that there'll be a reasonable
explanation for the strangeness.
When all he gets is the vet's voicemail, Scott finally allows himself to get a
little worried. He hasn't seen the man all week, but he knows that Stiles
would've had a training session the previous weekend.
Calling his best friend now, Scott taps his foot on the ground anxiously as he
waits for an answer, the sound of the phone ringing in his ear quickly getting
annoying. Unfortunately, no one picks up the call on the other end of the line,
so when he hears Stiles' cheery voicemail message begin to play, he curses
angrily and ends the call. Sliding his phone back inside his pocket, he walks
through to the waiting room and sees that the phone behind the front desk is
lit up with a multitude of red flashing lights.
Hitting the button to get the first message to play, Scott listens intently to
person after person, all of them wanting to know why Deaton didn't show up for
their respective appointments to get their pets fixed up. When the last message
finishes, he stands there in silence, his mind racing. He doesn't want to jinx
them, but he supposes it has been quite a long time since the pack last faced
any life-threatening danger. The current situation is quite similar to what
happened just a year previous, when Jennifer Blake abducted Deaton to use him
in one of her twisted sacrifices. He hopes nothing like that is happening
again. Guessing that there's no point in him staying at the clinic with no work
to do, he heads back to his bike and rides as far as he can into the preserve,
in the direction of the Nemeton. He wants to check on it just in case.
Walking the rest of the way when the ground gets too hilly for his bike to
handle safely, Scott reaches the large tree stump quickly. He doesn't think
it's likely that anything would be out of the place even if there was some new
plot to kill them all, but he feels marginally better when he sees it with his
own eyes, regardless of that fact.
The only thing that's changed since the last time Scott saw the Nemeton is that
there are several small rings of what looks like dried wax running in a circle
around the outside of the stump. He remembers Stiles telling him briefly about
having training there once, which offers all the explanation he needs to shrug
and walk away again. He checks what's left of the root cellar as well before
going back to his bike, wanting to be thorough.
Sending off a text to everyone in the pack, Scott asks whether any of them have
heard from Deaton in the past week.
He's worried for his boss, but because the only thing he has to go on is his
absence and the melted door handle, Scott doesn't announce that he thinks
something is amiss just yet, not wanting to get everybody worked up if it turns
out he's wrong.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, September 1st, 2012 -
Derek knows something isn't right as soon as he wakes up from an uneasy sleep.
When he glances sideways, the clock tells him that it's close to two in the
morning, but from the looks of things, Stiles hasn't been to bed at all yet.
The other side of the mattress is cold and the sheets aren't messed up at all.
Wondering what's keeping the teen so busy, he flings back the sheets tiredly
and walks out into the hall, rubbing at his eyes as he listens closely to his
surroundings in order to locate his mate. There's a small ache right in the
centre of his chest, something that feels like grief and betrayal. Derek is
familiar enough with his and Stiles' mating bond now that he knows the emotions
don't belong to him, especially not since they're coming through so muted. His
own concern easily overshadowing Stiles' emotions, he listens more closely and
frowns when he hears sniffling coming from the other end of the hall.
Stepping toward the sound, Derek's confusion grows when he sees just what room
Stiles is inside. "Stiles? What are you doing in here?" he asks as he steps
through the doorway and over to the teen. His eyes widen when he gets a look at
his mate's face.
Tears are running in streams down Stiles' cheeks, and stares seemingly
sightlessly down at a piece of paper in his lap.
Jumping when he feels a hand on his shoulder, Stiles looks up at Derek in shock
for a second before wiping hastily at his eyes, using the long sleeves of his
plaid overshirt to rid his cheeks of wetness. "Hey, Der. What's up?" he croaks,
his voice cracking. He was so caught up in his own head, mulling over the words
in his mother's letter again and again, that he didn't hear Derek enter the
room.
"I should be asking you that..." Derek replies, closing the remaining distance
between them and kneeling down next to Stiles. He cleans off the tears the teen
didn't catch and looks around the room, noting the open trunk in front of
them—he recoils slightly when he sees the sheer amount of mountain ash
within—and the way all of the boxes seem out of place, like they've been looked
through recently. The messy ball of used parcel tape stuck the floor a couple
of feet away supports this theory. "What's got you so upset, love?" He's
worried when Stiles doesn't really answer him. Instead, the teen just holds out
his hand and offers him the piece of paper that was in his lap.
After checking to make sure his mate is OK, or at least that he's no longer
crying, Derek looks over the words carefully. As he reads, he begins to
understand why he found Stiles in the state he did:
'Stiles,
I'm writing this knowing that I have mere months left to live at best. If and
when you find this, I'll probably be long gone and I guess that'll mean you've
been introduced to the supernatural world and you probably know at least some
of the secrets I've been keeping from you all these years. I hope that by now
you've gone to Talia Hale to seek her help, because I know she'd do everything
in her power to make the transition easier on you, as would the rest of her
family. There's a good reason for that, one I'll get into later on in this
letter, but for now, I want to preface all of this by begging you not to be too
mad at me for what you're about to read here. This isn't how I wanted things to
go, but it's too late to do anything about that now. The most I can do is try
to make you understand why I did what I did, and the events that lead to me
making the decisions I made.
I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who your dad thinks I am. I've lied to both
of you for as long I've known you, and I'm sorry for that, but I felt it was
necessary at the time.
My real name is Cesia Kowalczyk. I'm sure you've wondered at some point why it
is you've never met anyone from my side of the family. There's a simple answer
for that: they weren't ever alive for you to meet. I don't know how much you
already know, so I'm just going to cover everything.
You come from a long line of witches back in Poland, a large coven that was
very close. We all loved each other dearly. I grew up learning anything and
everything I could about magic. Whatever I could get my hands on, I did, if my
mother let me, of course. Everything about my life then was perfect, like it
was again after I met your dad and we had you. My mother and my aunt Sonia
pretty much ran things for the whole coven, the whole town, even. They were so
strong, and everybody looked up to them because of this. Whenever anyone had a
problem, those were the two they asked for help.
After a while, my aunt had an affair with someone in the village, a man named
Alek. I don't think anyone knew about it, not even my mother, and the only
reason I know is because I caught them together once. She begged me not to tell
anyone, and I've kept that secret until this moment. Soon enough, she got
pregnant and left before a scandal could break out.
As the years went by, I stayed in contact with her. She'd moved to America and
started her life over, gotten a fresh start. After the birth, she even sent me
photos of who I guess are your first cousins, once removed.
Eventually, the letters stopped. I didn't know why my aunt stopped writing to
me for the longest time, but when I turned eighteen and was finally allowed
more freedom, I looked into it and found out that she'd gotten into some
trouble, enough that her sons were taken away from her to protect them. It must
have messed her up quite a bit, because when she got out of prison after years
of incarceration, she went looking for someone to blame so that she could give
them her own brand of what she felt was justice. That someone just happened to
be Alek, the father of her children. One day, out of the blue, she showed back
up in our little town. She was so angry and hated every single one of us.
She was so different...everything about her. Perhaps the loss of her children
really did drive her mad, I don't know, but whatever happened in her mind
must've been big. No one could've predicted what happened next.
Sonia was so strong. My mother never even stood a chance because she would've
never dared use the magic her sister used. One minute, my mother was there,
alive and well, and the next, she was dead, lying on the floor with bloody eyes
and an expression of agony frozen on her face. I don't know why my aunt spared
me—maybe it was because I kept her secret, or because we kept correspondence in
those years after she left and she had a soft spot for me. Whatever the reason,
I was the only person in my village who wasn't killed that day.
After saving Alek for last and making him scream for what seemed like hours,
she killed herself, too, leaving me all alone to try and pick up the pieces.
The memories of that day were too painful for me to stay and try to rebuild the
life I had. I needed to do what my aunt did, to seek my own fresh start. I
moved to America in her footsteps, to a little town in California called Beacon
Hills. I didn't want a single reminder of my old life, so after getting
settled, I bound my powers. I'd seen what magic could do in the wrong hands,
and I didn't want the temptation. I knew now that the potential for great evil
ran in my veins, too. Soon after, I introduced myself to the local pack, the
Hales. You might know some of their children from around school, Laura, Derek
and Cora, I think are their names. I explained my situation as best I could and
asked to be kept in the know about any supernatural goings-on in town so that I
could run if need be.
If you haven't found this out already—though because you broke the protection
spell I put on my trunk, I guess you have—then I suppose this'll come as
something of a shock: you also have some degree of magic within you. I'm not
sure how much because it varies from person to person, but I guess you'd be
fairly strong just like your grandmother was. Shortly after you were born, I
unbound my powers for a short while so that I could bind yours as well.
I didn't want you to have to deal with any of this, but when I die, the binding
spell that I used will break. This leads me to what I wrote about earlier.
When you find this, if you haven't already, as I said before, I want you to go
to Talia and her family, specifically her brother, Jeremy. He'll be able to
help you get a handle on your powers. You can trust him. I didn't find this out
until a few years ago, but those once-removed first cousins I mentioned?
They're Jeremy and his twin brother, Landon. I don't know how they came to be a
part of the Hale family, but it's been a comfort to me these past few years
knowing that they're there should I ever need their help. I haven't told them
yet who I am, and I guess I never will now. You should, though.
Now is the part I know will upset you the most. This illness didn't have to
happen. I'm slowly losing my mind and I unknowingly did it to myself. The
binding spell I used is slowly killing me. I'm not worried about the same thing
happening to you, because like I said, that spell will be broken soon enough.
I wish I could say I didn't put the pieces together until it was too late, but
that would be a lie. When I found out, there was still a chance I could've
saved myself, but I was too scared to take my magic back, afraid of what I
might do after being without it for so long.
I signed my own death certificate and took myself away from you, and you're
still just a child... I'm going to hurt you so much, and I hope you can forgive
me for not doing the right thing, for not reversing my spell and staying around
for you and your dad. Even now, I'm still too much of a coward to tell either
of you about all of this outside of this letter, and I know you probably hate
me for it. Please try to remember me as someone who loves you, because I do. So
much, more than I can put into words. To try and make up for what I've done,
I'm putting some things from my old life with this letter, the things I didn't
have the heart to get rid of when I left Poland behind. They should help you
come to terms with who you are and all you can do.
Please remember what I said about Talia and Jeremy. I know they'll be good to
you.
Remember I love you.
Mom'
When he finishes the last word, Derek looks back over at Stiles and isn't
surprised at all when he sees the anger the teen is trying to conceal without
success beneath a mask of impassivity. Folding the letter up again, Derek
leaves it on the floor before pulling Stiles up with him as he stands. He leads
his mate out of the room and back into their bedroom.
"Are you OK?" Derek asks once he has them both settled in the middle of the
mattress. He knows it's a stupid question when Stiles glares at him.
"What do you think? Not only did I just find out that my mom pretty much chose
to die and put me and my dad through all of that, but apparently I'm also
related to the sick son of a bitch who killed my dad and tried to kill the rest
of us a few months ago," Stiles seethes, flopping back and staring up at the
ceiling. He hasn't felt such tumultuous emotions in a long time. Anger,
betrayal, fear, disbelief, sadness...all of them are at war inside his head and
heart until they mix together and he can't differentiate between them anymore.
It's confusing. When Derek lies down next to him and pulls him closer, he
doesn't protest, but he doesn't lean into the alpha's hold either like he
normally would. "Do you think he knew? Landon? Do you think he knew I was his
cousin, and that's why he targeted me?"
Derek can sense that Stiles isn't really in the mood to be comforted just yet,
so he backs off a little. He remains close in case that changes, though. "I
don't know, love... Maybe? I mean, he did go looking for his birth certificate
and we never found out why," he replies quietly, wishing he had a better
answer.
"Well, I guess I know how I'm spending my Saturday..." Stiles mumbles, already
planning on finding out anything and everything he can about Landon's journey
to the Hales and around the States.
When Stiles moves to get out of bed again, Derek stops him with a hand around
his shoulder. He pulls his mate back and smiles knowingly down at the teen's
face when he sees the petulant pout of his lips. "You can do all of that later.
For now, you need to get some sleep, so come on," he instructs, pulling off
Stiles' shirt and chuckling fondly when the teen calls him a meanie under his
breath. Switching off the lamp on his bedside table, Derek wraps his arms
tightly around Stiles' body to prevent him from making any more escape attempts
later on in the night. He snuggles closer, pressing them together from head to
toe with his nose tucked into the back of his mate's neck. Eventually, he sighs
with relief when he feels Stiles' body go slack against his, the teen
succumbing to exhaustion.
Closing his eyes, Derek tries to follow his own advice and join Stiles in
slumber, but he soon finds that he can't. His wolf won't let him. It once again
prowls restlessly inside of his head, keeping him awake. Sighing, he resigns
himself to another long night and thinks over everything he read in Stiles'
mother's letter. Wishing that things would stop happening to turn Stiles' world
on its head, he laments the fact that their lives are so chaotic and will
probably continue to be for the foreseeable future.
It's the price they pay for living in Beacon Hills.
                                     * * *
Derek stays in bed until Stiles wakes up late the following day. It's gone
midday by the time the teen finally opens his eyes, and Derek guesses he slept
so long because using his magic to heal Erica and finding out about his
mother's past took a lot of energy out of him.
When Stiles doesn't even appear to acknowledge his presence and just gets up
straight away to storm right out of the room, Derek frowns, a little hurt but
knowing that the teen didn't mean any ill will. He follows and finds Stiles
back inside the room containing his parents' things, gathering up the books and
the letter he found in his mother's trunk in his arms. "Hey," he greets,
stepping cautiously closer to Stiles and trying to catch his eyes with a
tentative smile. He's relieved when the teen finally looks at him, startled,
his mouth dropping open. He supposes that his mate was so preoccupied with
thoughts of researching his mother's past and his connection to Jeremy and
Landon that he didn't hear him approach.
"Hi..." Stiles responds quietly, shuffling the books in his arms before closing
the distance between them and pressing their lips together in a silent apology
that Derek gladly accepts.
Now that he's got a new perspective through well-rested eyes, Stiles is glad
that Derek kept him in bed the previous night. With a good night's sleep in his
system, he'll be able to better concentrate on what he reads and take
everything in. He's curious about what he'll find in his mother's second and
third diaries and his grandmother's grimoire. He plans to spend the entire day
going through it all with a fine-toothed comb before moving on to his
connection to Derek's adoptive uncles.
After they get downstairs and into the kitchen, now fully dressed, Stiles
checks his phone and sees that he has an unread text from Scott. He wonders
briefly why he didn't hear it come in at the time, but when he looks at the
timestamp he realises that Scott sent it around the same time he was reading
his mother's letter. He would've been too focused on her words to hear the
quiet chime in his pocket. Registering just what the crooked-jawed beta is
asking, Stiles breathes out quiet, "Oh," before typing out a quick reply. When
Derek asks what's wrong, he glances up at the alpha before looking back down at
his phone, waiting for Scott to get back to him. "Deaton's still missing. Scott
was supposed to work at the clinic again last night, but Deaton never showed."
Putting the finishing touches on their breakfast, Derek takes a seat next to
Stiles before snatching the teen's phone right out of his hand, ignoring
Stiles' affronted huff.
To shut his mate up, Derek reaches blindly for a fork and spears a strip of
bacon on the end of the tines before sticking it in Stiles' mouth. He smirks
when he hears the teen spluttering next to him. When Scott's next text pops up
on the screen, he purses his lips when he reads that no one else has apparently
heard from the veterinarian recently either.
"I'm gonna see what I can find out about this," Derek announces finally,
allowing Stiles to take his phone back. He devours his own breakfast in record
time, anxious to locate the teen's elusive teacher. As much as he still
distrusts the older man, he knows how essential he is for his mate's emissary
training.
"Alright," Stiles accepts, tilting his head to the side to offer his cheek when
Derek leans in for a kiss. He watches over his shoulder as the alpha walks out
of the room and heads upstairs to get dressed for his day. He hopes his mate
finds Deaton, and now that Derek is on the case, he puts his concern for the
vet out of his mind and focuses instead of the issue of his mother, Jeremy and
Landon. He knows from past conversations with Derek that the man's grandparents
didn't go that far away to adopt the twins, so he guesses the agency or
orphanage they used must have been pretty close, at least within state lines.
Nodding to himself, he chews his last piece of bacon quickly before dumping
both his and Derek's plates in the sink and following the alpha upstairs to get
dressed as well. He passes his wolf in the hallway, where they bid each other
goodbye.
The sound of the front door opening and closing reaches Stiles' ears as he
shimmies into a pair of chinos that Lydia picked out for him in one of their
annoyingly frequent shopping trips.
After sending off a text to Danny asking whether he's still at home and getting
a 'yes' in reply, Stiles is quick leave the house as well. He takes his
mother's letter and her first journal with him and locks the door behind
himself before hopping into his car.
Pressing his foot down on the pedal to make the drive over to the Hawaiian's
house faster than it ordinarily would be—he actually breaks the speed limit for
a while, but luckily, nobody sees anything—Stiles comes to screeching stop on
the curb outside before rushing up to the front door and knocking impatiently.
Danny's father opens it. They exchange pleasantries before he's allowed inside,
and when he is, he immediately takes the stairs two at a time and barges into
Danny's room without warning. He guessed that the Hawaiian knew he was coming
from his text, anyway.
"Hey, Stiles," Danny greets when his door is pushed open. He's sat in the
middle of his bed with his computer open in his lap, typing away on an essay
that's due the following week. His fingers pause over the keys when he notices
what Stiles has in his hands, the strange scent of it all wafting over to him
as the other boy steps fully into the room and shuts the door again. "What's
all that?"
"I'm glad you asked that, Danny-boy," Stiles answers, flopping down next to
Danny on the bed without waiting for an invitation. Being in the same pack
basically destroyed all those boundaries long ago.
When Danny just looks at him in confusion, Stiles pulls his mother's letter out
of its envelope and hands it over, busying himself with her journal while the
muscled boy reads. He smiles knowingly to himself when Danny releases several
shocked gasps over the next few minutes. "Yup."
"This is unbelievable!" Danny exclaims, staring at Stiles in shock. Once again,
he's forced to wonder how much easier his life would probably be if, at the
start of the year, he'd just stayed out of whatever secrets Jackson and Lydia
were keeping from him and moved on from them. It would certainly be nice not to
have to worry about all the supernatural goings-on in town or family secrets or
all his friends dying, but on the other hand, he'd miss them, too. It's a
fleeting thought, one he's had many, many times in the past, and it always gets
the same answer. "Where the hell did you find this?"
"In my mom's stuff. Now, I want you to see if you can find out anything about
Jeremy and Landon's history. Why exactly they were taken away from their mom,
where they were adopted from, when, etc. etc.," Stiles instructs, shifting
around a little bit until he can see the computer screen. He's pleased when
Danny doesn't argue with him, minimising his essay and opening his Internet
browser instead. He still doesn't really follow everything that Danny does, but
a few minutes later, a bunch of results pop up on the screen. All the sections
that mention Jeremy or Landon Kowalczyk are highlighted, so they work through
them all one by one until they reach the last result. The first thing that pops
up is the arrest report for a Sonia Kowalczyk. The document says that the woman
was apparently seen drunk quite frequently in the days leading up to her
arrest, and that her neighbours called the police one morning when they heard
shouting coming from her place of residence.
Jeremy and Landon were found in their bedroom when the police arrived, looking
terrified and malnourished. They were only two years old at the time, and
doctors found several bruises and small cuts on their bodies when they were
brought to the local hospital for a cursory examination. There was even
evidence of an old break in one of Landon's arms when an x-way was done just in
case.
Obviously, after that, the two children were removed from Sonia's house and all
parental ties were cut. The twins were put into foster care, where they
remained for several months until Deirdre and Frank Hale appeared and adopted
them out of the blue.
"That's so sad..." Stiles says with a frown after he finishes reading, not
liking the fact that he's related to someone who would abuse their children in
such a way.
He can't say it really surprises him that Sonia was capable of something so
terrible, though, since everything else he heard about her up until that point
didn't exactly painted her in the best light. He feels glad she didn't get away
with it, while wishing at the same time that it never happened at all. Getting
adopted into the Hale family was probably the best outcome for Jeremy and
Landon, and he wonders if it was just a coincidence that Frank and Deirdre
chose them or if they somehow knew of the twins' magical heritage. Knowing his
life, Stiles guesses it's the latter.
"This whole thing just keeps getting more and more twisted, I swear," Danny
comments, patting Stiles lightly on the knee in a pathetic attempt to comfort.
It's not really his forte.
After getting Danny to print out all of that information so he can show Derek
later, Stiles folds all the sheets of paper up and slips them inside his
mother's old journal for safekeeping. "Alright...let's move on to finding out
what happened to my mom's old town," he prods, paying no mind when the doorbell
rings downstairs. "I mean, I know Sonia went on a rampage and killed everyone,
but there must've been something left of it all. People in the surrounding
towns must have noticed all of them dying suddenly-" His words are cut off when
the bedroom door opens again as Isaac steps through it. The beta pauses in the
doorway when their eyes meet, and Stiles blinks up at him dumbly before
offering a small wave and pushing his mother's journal behind him as if it's a
secret. He guesses it is, since he doesn't really want anyone else knowing
about it just yet, not until he's ready.
"Hey, Stiles. What are you doing here?" Isaac asks eventually, ending the long,
awkward silence that had filled the room. Since the bed is already taken, he
opts for Danny's desk chair instead.
"Uh, you know, just seeking the help of our resident hacker," Stiles replies,
shrugging and trying to look nonchalant. When Isaac just continues to stare at
him, he doesn't think he's successful. "So, Danny-boy, ol' buddy, ol' pal...see
if you can find anything regarding what we were talking about before and email
it all to me, yeah?" With that, he hops up off the bed and rushes from the
room, stopping briefly to ruffle Isaac's hair before disappearing through the
door at lightning speed.
Isaac watches Stiles go with wide eyes, baffled and a little worried, before
claiming the now-free spot on the bed next to Danny. It doesn't escape his
notice that his boyfriend is quick to close whatever he has open on his laptop.
"Do I wanna know?" he enquires, lying back so that his head is resting on
Danny's comfy pillows.
"Mmm, probably not," Danny admits easily, smirking when Isaac kicks him in the
leg. After shutting down his laptop and placing it delicately on the floor, he
flops down next to the curly-haired beta and looks up at him innocently. "Now,
to what do I owe this surprise visit, hmm?" He doesn't get a chance to say
anything more, not when Isaac pounces on him with a loud giggle and starts
ripping off his shirt. He quickly gets with the programme, helping the other
beta divest them both of their clothing before diving under the covers. All in
all, it's a pretty good start to the afternoon.
                                     * * *
Derek spends most of the afternoon looking all over town for any traces of
Deaton. He doesn't find anything that tells him where the older man could've
gone, which only serves to exacerbate his concern for the vet's safety.
Not even a quick visit to his sister, Marin Morrell, yielded any results. It'd
been a long time since he laid eyes on the woman, and the ex-emissary has
apparently continued to divide her time working as a counsellor at the high
school and as a psychiatrist at Eichen House, even after Stiles escaped under
the Nogitsune's influence and she didn't really have any reason to continue on
there. He asked her why, but, of course, she decided to be as frustratingly
vague as her brother. She also didn't show even the slightest hint of worry for
the man, leading Derek to leave the place thinking that the woman is a
sociopath, a thought he obviously didn't vocalise.
After briefly contemplating the idea that Deaton has simply gone out of town
for a while, Derek rules it out as unlikely, guessing—or rather, hoping—that
the vet would tell him or Stiles about it since it would interfere with the
latter's training.
Deciding that he doesn't really have any other options left, Derek gets back in
his car and drives away from Eichen House as fast as he can.
He wants to put as much distance between himself and that horrid place as
possible. The scent of suffering and madness was so pungent that it clogged up
his nose until it got hard to breathe without choking on the air. He heads in
the direction of the sheriff's station, and when he pulls up across the street
from the familiar building, he feels a little strange about being there again.
The place holds a lot of bad memories that he can't help recalling as he walks
inside, from the kanima paralysing him and killing several deputies under Matt
Daehler's control, to when he was arrested with Chris Argent and he saved the
ex-hunter from the bomb the Nogitsune mailed to Sheriff Stilinski. He hasn't
seen the interior at all since that last incident.
As luck would have it, Derek finds Jordan Parrish pinning something up on the
noticeboard in the reception area when he walks inside. The deputy turns in his
direction, curious, and smiles brightly at him when he sees just who the new
arrival is.
"Derek! I wasn't expecting to see you here today!" Parrish greets happily,
patting Derek on the back and wrapping a casual arm around his shoulders.
Barely resisting the urge to pull away from the unwelcome touch, Derek allows
himself to be shepherded further into the station, taking the seat in front of
Parrish's desk when the deputy offers it. He makes himself as comfortable as he
can before deciding to get straight to the point of his visit. Parrish proceeds
to ramble about nothing in a way that's surprisingly similar to Stiles the
minute he sits down, so Derek cuts off the other man's babbling—he was talking
too fast for him to understand a word, anyway—by clearing his throat loudly and
levelling the well-meaning deputy with an impatient look. "I apologise if I'm
coming off rude, but I'm not here just to say 'hi'," he begins, squaring his
shoulders. "I need to file a missing persons report."
                                     * * *
When Isaac leaves Danny's house several hours later, he doesn't immediately
notice that anything strange is happening. It's only when he's halfway back to
the McCalls' that he begins cottoning on to the fact.
A gruff-looking man walks in the opposite direction, and when he and Isaac pass
each other, the stranger doesn't even acknowledge the beta's existence. Isaac
rubs at his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact when they bumped
into each other, and glares after the man, thinking that some people are far
too rude to be allowed in public. It's when the same thing happens two more
times, the third with an unassuming elderly lady, that he finally realises
something's not right.
Opening the McCalls' front door, Isaac steps inside and breathes out a sigh of
relief at being in such familiar surroundings. The house has felt more like a
home to him than anything he's had for years, and just being back there calms
him down immensely. He can hear the sound of laughter coming from upstairs, so
after getting himself a glass of water—his time with Danny really made him
thirsty—he jogs up the stairs and follows it. It leads him predictably to
Scott's room, and after taking a second to make sure he doesn't hear or smell
anything unsavoury, he pushes open the door and steps inside to join the other
beta and who he assumes is Allison. "Hey, you two," he greets as he kicks the
door back so that it's ajar, "whatcha up to?" He frowns when Scott and Allison
continue to talk quietly to each other beneath the covers on the bed, their
heads close together. "Uh, guys?"
It's like neither of the two lovebirds can see or hear him. Isaac begins to
panic a little, yelling both of their names to see if the increased volume will
make a difference. It doesn't.
Moving forward, Isaac grabs a hold of Scott's duvet cover and yanks it down,
averting his eyes when he's immediately met with more naked flesh than he ever
wanted to see. Still, it does have the desired effect, sort of. Allison squeals
in horror as both she and Scott jump up from the mattress and look around the
room with wide eyes.
"What the hell was that?!" Allison exclaims, holding an arm across her breasts
and shoving her other hand between her legs to hide her shame. "Who's there?!"
She takes tiny steps sideways until she reaches her clothes, which lay in a
pile in front of Scott's dresser. She puts them on faster than she ever
remembers doing before, faster even than the one time she wasn't careful enough
and her dad caught her and Scott together. The ex-hunter didn't let that one go
for a while, and he still gives Scott some serious side-eye whenever the beta
is visiting.
Scott focuses his senses and tilts his head to the side when he finds he cannot
detect anyone else in the room. "I can't feel anyone..." he whispers, freaked
out.
"OK, I don't care! I'm getting out of here right the fuck now!" Allison shouts,
grabbing her phone from the nightstand and dashing from the room. She doesn't
stop until she gets outside and into her car, where Scott hops right in the
passenger seat next to her.
Isaac stands back up in Scott's room, baffled at the strange turn of events.
Apparently, he can affect inanimate objects with other people noticing, but
going off of what happened earlier on the street, when he actually touches
another person directly, it's as if they feel nothing. He wonders if it's just
Scott and Allison who are affected by whatever is going on with him, so to get
an answer, he leaves the house again as well, heading in the direction of
Stiles and Derek's. It takes him a while, and he laments the fact that he's too
poor to afford a car for the entirety of the long journey. By the time the
large house comes into view, his feet are aching, but the sight of Stiles'
bright blue Camaro parked up outside overshadows his discomfort with relief.
His pack mom will know what to do, he's sure.
Isaac finds the human teen sitting in the living room with his phone in his
hands, the television on in the background even though he doesn't appear to be
paying attention to it at all. Swallowing and preparing himself for the worst
outcome, he steps through from the foyer and walks around the sofa so that he's
standing in front of Stiles.
"Stiles," Isaac asks quietly, taking a seat on the coffee table next to what he
assumes is the other boy's cup of cold coffee, "can you hear me?"
Just like he guessed would happen, Stiles doesn't so much as twitch, completely
unaware that there's another person in the room. It's a disheartening find even
though he was expecting it. Leaning forward, he rests his chin in his hand as
he contemplates what to do next.
Thinking over the few options he has to get through to Stiles, Isaac quickly
takes out his phone and types a short text to the human teen, hoping he won't
see it as a joke—'I have a problem: I'm sitting right in front of you and I
seem to be invisible.' He waits anxiously for the message to come through on
Stiles' cell, biting his nails and wiggling in place a little bit with nervous
energy. It's a good thing Stiles seems so focused on his own phone, because a
few seconds later when it beeps and the message pops up at the top of the
screen, the other boy sees it immediately.
Freezing when he reads what Isaac has sent him, Stiles' mouth drops open and
his head snaps up. His eyes are wide as he surveys the room, craning his head
around to look over the back of the sofa to be safe.
Just to be sure, Stiles replies—'If this is legit, how many fingers am I
holding up?'—and holds his hand up in front of his chest.
He makes sure not to raise his fingers too high just in case this is all an
elaborate prank and Isaac is actually outside, looking in through the window or
something. He wouldn't put it past the curly-haired beta to do something like
that, not if Erica or Danny is involved, too. The blonde and the Hawaiian
really are bad influences on his favourite beta sometimes, though he'd be lying
if he said it didn't warm his heart to see Isaac enjoying himself and having
careless fun like every other teenager.
When his phone beeps again a few seconds later, the short message reads,
'Three.' Stiles sighs. "Hmm...wait here a second, OK? I'm gonna call Derek and
get him back here so he can help," he instructs, standing. He pauses briefly as
if he expects to hear a response.
Kicking himself back into gear, Stiles leaves Isaac where he is and heads up to
the library on the third floor.
As he browses through the various books on magic lining the shelves, he can't
help thinking that the frequency with which he needs to be up there seems to be
increasing substantially. He wonders if what happened to Erica the previous
afternoon and what's happening to Isaac now are connected in any way, not
knowing what he'll do if the answer turns out to be 'yes'.
Dialling Derek's number, Stiles taps his foot as he waits for the call to
connect. When the alpha's rumbling voice answers a few seconds later, he keeps
things concise. "You need to get back here ASAP," he demands, not even
returning his mate's 'Hello' and just jumping straight to the point.
"Apparently, Isaac is invisible. I can't even hear him. He had to get my
attention by texting me," he hears Derek inhale quickly, like he's about to
interrupt, "and before you say anything, no, I don't think he's just pulling my
leg. I already checked, and I believe him." He hangs up soon after, when Derek
has promised that he'll be home within half an hour. Now that he's not
distracted, Stiles tries to remember a time when he's come across a mention of
invisibility in any of the books in front of him.
When he doesn't come up with much, he just pulls out books at random and looks
through the contents on the first page. In some of them, the contents is just a
brief handwritten list provided by Deaton, the vet no doubt having thought it
would be easier for him to learn if he knew exactly what was in each tome
without having to skim through all the pages.
Stiles finds a couple of entries in the books on the subject, so he bookmarks
the pages by folding down the top corners before taking them back downstairs.
"OK...you probably already heard, but Derek should be here soon, so don't
worry; we'll get to the bottom of whatever's happening to you," Stiles assures
when he reenters the living room. He hesitates before taking a seat on the
sofa, wondering whether Isaac has moved from the coffee table in his absence
for something more comfy. He doesn't want to sit on the beta.
"I'm gonna sit here, so if you're there, you might wanna move..." he tells the
room slowly, feeling like a complete moron.
Isaac rolls his eyes, having not left his spot on the coffee table to avoid a
situation just like the one Stiles is apparently afraid of. He needn't have
bothered, it seems.
Soon enough and as promised, Derek comes through the front door twenty-two
minutes later, looking tired and annoyed. Stiles doesn't blame the man. He pats
the cushion next to him in invitation, the corner of his mouth twitching when
Derek practically throws himself down in the proffered seat. "Right... The only
way we can talk seems to be through writing, so... Isaac, why don't you run us
through everything that happened today so we can see if there's anything that
sticks out as strange or whatever?" he asks, looking straight ahead at the
empty air above the coffee table. He supposes it's better he just look in one
spot instead of glancing around the room constantly. His eyes will probably
thank him later.
After a minute of waiting, another text comes in on Stiles' phone, which he
reads aloud:
" 'I was with Danny all morning and nothing seemed off. After I left, several
people bumped into me, but they acted as if nothing happened. I just chalked it
up to them being rude assholes, but when I got back to Scott's and he didn't
notice me, I realised something was wrong. That's when I came here.'
"Alright...this is a pickle," Stiles muses, resting his phone on his thigh as
he thinks. "Can you read this?" He takes one of the books he brought downstairs
and puts it on the coffee table, watching with fascination as it seems to turn
and open on its own. "I guess so. Just check through that for any mentions of
invisibility spells or curses or whatever. Hopefully we'll find something. If
not, then I guess we'll have to go to Holly... Who knows? Maybe Elizabeth will
be willing to offer a hand, as well."
Almost a whole hour later, Derek looks up in shock when the book Isaac was
reading is pushed off the coffee table to land with a loud thump on the floor.
"I know it's frustrating, puppy, but try not to damage the books, yeah?" Stiles
asks carefully, holding his hands out as if he's talking to a frightened
animal. He understands the beta's sour mood, getting annoyed himself at the
lack of results and he's not even the one in trouble in that moment. "Let's
just call this a day and go see Elizabeth, hmm? Decades of studying witchcraft
ought to make her useful for something, right?" He laughs halfheartedly at his
own joke, the sound tapering off into a sigh when the front door is ripped open
in the foyer, the wood banging and rebounding off the wall.
Following Isaac outside, Stiles waits for Derek to lock the front door before
traipsing down the steps and heading over to his car. "Backseat, puppy!" he
calls, hoping that the smell of sex has dissipated enough so that it doesn't
bother the beta too much.
When they're all buckled in, Stiles begins driving them in the direction of the
Alexander household, glancing over at Derek and trying to fill the silence when
it remains awkward. "I forgot to ask, but how did your search for Deaton go?
Not good, I'm guessing?" he asks, frowning in disappointment and resignation
when the alpha confirms his assumption. "Great... So now we have that to deal
with as well. Does it ever end? No? OK." If the vet isn't actually in any
danger, whenever they next see each other, he's going to punch the man so hard
in the face for putting him through the needless stress.
"Mmm... His sister was absolutely useless, which I was kind of expecting
anyway. Apparently, they haven't really kept in contact recently, and she
didn't show any concern when I told her he's missing, so..." Derek explains,
Morrell's nonchalant attitude to family still bugging him.
"You seriously didn't find any trace of him? Not a single whiff or...?" Stiles
asks a few seconds later, turning the last corner and pulling to a stop outside
Charlie and Elizabeth's house.
Derek shakes his head as he gets out of the car. "Nope. I'd just finished
getting Parrish to file a missing persons when you called me about Isaac," he
reveals, following Stiles up the front steps. The sound of a third car door
opening and closing behind him tells him that Isaac is thankfully doing the
same. The force with which the door is slammed shut again tells him the beta's
mood hasn't improved during their drive, not that he blames the teen.
About a minute after Stiles raises his fist and knocks on the front door, it
swings open to reveal Elizabeth standing on the other side.
The woman's eyes widen when she sees who's waiting on her doorstep. "Stiles,
Derek! What a pleasant surprise!" she welcomes, stepping to the side to allow
the two entrance. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
"Is Charlie here?" Stiles asks before answering Elizabeth's question, wanting
to stick to their earlier conversation about keeping the girl in the dark. He
doesn't want her to accidentally overhear anything she shouldn't. When
Elizabeth shakes her head no, he smiles tightly before heading through to the
living room and taking a seat. Derek immediately drops down right next to him.
"We've got a little problem. A magical problem, I think. One of our betas,
Isaac, has somehow turned invisible...or something. It's more than that, I
guess, since we can't hear him or touch him either. He can touch other things,
though! Isaac?" He points to an empty glass that sits in the centre of the
coffee table and nods at Elizabeth's gasp when it rises into the air seemingly
on its own.
Luckily, Isaac seems to have enough sense not to be so careless with the glass
as he was with the book earlier, since it gets set down right where he found it
without a scratch.
"How did this happen?" Elizabeth asks, dropping down into an armchair and
looking as baffled as the rest of them feel. Listening intently as Stiles reads
Isaac's text out to her, a deep frown appears on her face as she thinks,
grateful when everybody else remains silent after Stiles finishes talking so
that she can concentrate. "Why come to me? Don't you have other people who
could help that you know better?"
"Don't take offence to this, but...yes, ordinarily I'd just go to our sort-of
friend, Deaton, who usually helps whenever we have a problem we can't solve on
our own," Stiles answers, sitting forward and leaning his forearms on his
knees. "He's not available right now, though, and I figured since you used to
be a witch that you might be able to at least point us in the right direction?"
He sends a particularly puppy-eyed stare in Elizabeth's direction, hoping for a
'yes'. Being around Scott and Isaac so much must have improved the potency of
that particular expression, because the woman immediately nods and gets up from
her seat. He settles in again when she tells them to wait as she disappears
upstairs.
Coming back into the living room several long minutes later, Elizabeth carries
with her an incredibly thick book.
Kneeling down in front of the coffee table, she opens it to a bookmarked page
before turning it around so that Stiles and Derek can read the entry. "Even
though I don't practice myself anymore, when I moved us here, I kept the more
useful spell books I had in case I ever needed them again," Elizabeth explains,
sitting on her heels. "I've never heard of a spell that does what you've told
me, but the closest thing is there."
Elizabeth points near the bottom of the second page. "This is quite a personal
question, so I apologise in advance, but does Isaac have any insecurities,
possibly about being lonely or going unnoticed by people he loves?" she asks,
smiling to herself when Stiles confirms her theory. "This might be it, then.
It's a spell that taps into a person's deepest fears and brings them to life in
cruel ways. The counter-spell is pretty tricky, though you should be able to
handle it if you're careful. I don't have the ingredients here, unfortunately,
since they're pretty specific, but maybe your friend does?"
"I guess we'll see..." Stiles mumbles, memorising the page number before
closing and picking up the book. He hands it off to Derek when he realises how
heavy it is. "Is it OK if we borrow this?"
Nodding, Elizabeth isn't surprised when Stiles and Derek both make to leave
right after. She follows them back to the front door and holds it open a few
seconds longer than she thinks is really necessary just to make sure Isaac gets
outside as well. "Let me know how it goes, OK?" she yells as the three walk
down the pathway to their car.
Looking back over his shoulder and waving, Stiles makes quick work of strapping
himself in and peeling off to the veterinary clinic. He's pleased to find the
place still looks relatively untouched, though he swallows guiltily and quickly
moves on when he comes across the melted lock on his way inside. "OK...let's
find all this stuff," he whispers to himself as he opens all the cupboards and
begins rifling through all the strange jars inside. Eventually, after an
extensive search, he manages to find everything he needs to do the spell, so he
arranges it all on the metal examination table in the middle of the room and
rereads everything he'll need to do to pull it off. He doesn't want to make a
mistake and end up accidentally worsening Isaac's predicament.
When he thinks he understands everything, Stiles unscrews the caps on all the
jars and tips their contents' out onto the table.
For his part, Derek takes a seat on one of the stools and just watches his mate
work. He feels quite proud that Stiles appears confident enough in his own
abilities now to at least make an attempt at curing Isaac. It wasn't that long
ago when the teen wouldn't have even dared to think about it.
Adding the last ingredient to a bowl he finds in one of the cupboards, Stiles
adds some water to the mixture and stirs it with his finger, allowing his fire
powers to come forth until it begins to boil. It's a lucky thing that heat
doesn't affect him in any way so long as his powers are active, otherwise he'd
scald himself badly as he waits for the concoction to be ready. He watches
closely as the liquid gradually changes colour, turning from a rather
disgusting brown into a much more pleasant pale orange. He feels as if he's at
Hogwarts, mixing potions. Another minute later, the mixture begins thickening,
forming into a paste, and this indicates to Stiles that this part of the
process is finished.
After cleaning off his finger with a bunch of paper towels he takes from a
dispenser on one of the walls, Stiles covers the bowl with both hands and
closes his eyes before chanting the spell written inside Elizabeth's book.
"OK...that should do it," Stiles breathes when he finishes incanting, stepping
back and slumping against one of the countertops.
Derek senses that Stiles' energy levels have dropped considerably in the past
minute, so before his mate has a chance to collapse on the floor or something,
he stands and wraps an arm around the teen's waist to keep him upright. He
returns Stiles' thankful smile with a small one of his own before turning back
to the examination table. "So how does this work?" he enquires for Isaac's
sake, since the beta can't ask the question himself, at least not verbally.
"He just has to eat it," Stiles replies quietly, leaning further into Derek's
side, "and with some of those ingredients, it ain't gonna be pretty..."
It's quite a surreal thing to watch the paste disappear bit by bit. There are
pauses in between each bite as Isaac eats it, and Stiles assumes that the beta
is busy trying not to throw it all back up during them. When the last of the
paste is gone from the bowl, a few seconds pass before Stiles begins to see a
faint outline standing next to the table, the air within it seeming to shimmer
as Isaac reappears. With a small flash of light, the beta is fully corporeal
once more, his face looking a little green as he clutches his stomach and
grimaces. "Thank God that worked!" Stiles exclaims, moving forward and bringing
the other boy into a hug, which gets returned immediately.
Catching a glimpse of the pained expression on Isaac's face, Derek moves around
to the beta's back and copies Stiles, pressing himself close so that the curly-
haired teen is sandwiched between them. It seems to calm Isaac quite a bit,
especially when he employs a little pain relief as he pulls away.
"You OK?" Stiles asks when he hears Isaac sniffle quietly into his shoulder,
stepping back when the beta drops his arms. He's glad when the other boy nods.
"Yeah... That just wasn't a very nice experience, any part of it," Isaac
replies, taking a shuddering breath and wiping away the moisture that had
formed in his eyes. He smiles shyly at Stiles when his vision clears. "Thanks."
He flicks his eyes over to Derek as well so that the alpha knows he's included
in his gratitude as well.
Stiles guides Isaac back outside with a hand on the small of his back, leading
him over to his Camaro. "I don't blame you. Elizabeth said the spell was
designed to tap into the victim's deepest fears, so it's no wonder it affected
you so much," he assures, not wanting Isaac to feel embarrassed about the
emotion he displayed in the clinic. When the beta is safely in the backseat of
his car, he turns and finds Derek standing next to him expectantly with
Elizabeth's book tucked under one arm. "C'mon, Sourwolf... Let's go return that
and then we'll head home, 'K?"
They make a quick job of giving Elizabeth her book back. Stiles thanks her
profusely for the help and promises to pass her sentiments on to Isaac when she
says she hopes he feels better soon. During the drive back to the house, Stiles
glances up at the rearview mirror and sees the beta in question sitting rather
sadly in the backseat, his forehead resting against the window. This gives him
an idea, and as soon as he parks the car and gets out, he texts everybody in
the pack and orders them all to gather there as soon as possible. After sending
Isaac upstairs to brush his teeth and get cleaned up, Stiles ropes Derek into
helping him with his plan, getting the alpha to move the coffee table out of
the way and push the sofas back slightly to create more space in the centre of
the living room.
Retrieving all the pillows and sheets from the guest bedrooms, Stiles arranges
it all artfully in the newly created space, knowing from the snort Derek gives
him that the alpha has figured out what he's doing.
The front door opens and the rest of the pack filter through before Isaac
reappears. They all look worried at first, which makes Stiles feel guilty about
not explaining the situation properly—or at all—in his text, but their
expressions quickly clear up when they get a look at what he's done to the
living room.
"It's puppy pile time, guys!" Stiles whispers excitedly to them all. "Isaac's
had a rough go of it today—I'll explain that later—so I want you all to go get
changed into your PJs and meet back down here before he finishes up in the
bathroom. C'mon! Off you go!" He shoos them from the room when they don't move
immediately, raising an intimidating eyebrow at Jackson when the beta looks
like he's going to disobey. Jackson just scoffs at him and follows Lydia up the
stairs. Stiles chuckles when he spies Derek trying to slip out into the
kitchen. "You, too, Sourwolf. If you cooperate, I'll let you spoon me." He
waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"Yes, because I totally need your permission to 'spoon' you..." Derek grumbles,
shaking his head as he reluctantly does as Stiles instructed.
After Isaac comes downstairs five minutes later, his face lights up when he
sees everybody gathered in the living room in the pile of blankets and pillows.
He gladly takes his place beside Danny when the Hawaiian pats the spot next to
himself.
Stiles smiles and hums in contentment when he sees that Isaac is unable to wipe
the delighted expression from his face. "I am good," he mutters to himself,
leaning back into Derek's bare chest when the alpha wraps his arms around his
torso. He turns and bites his mate roughly on the ear after Derek laughs at
him, smirking when his wolf lets out the most unmanly squeak imaginable.
"You're lucky I love you, you dork." He cackles without restraint when Derek
blows a raspberry against his cheek in retaliation.
***** Stranger *****
- Sunday, September 2nd, 2012 -
The betas leave again early the next morning, with Isaac wrapping Stiles up in
a thankful hug before following Danny down the front steps and to his car. The
human teen looks on fondly, pleased when he notices the renewed skip in his
favourite beta's step. Closing the door with a gentle click, he saunters back
through to the living and feels his heart melt when he sees that Derek appears
to still be sleeping, ensconced deeply in a pile of blankets and pillows with
only the top half of his face peeking out.
Figuring that he has nothing better to do for the time being, Stiles rejoins
Derek in the makeshift nest. The spot he occupied just a few minutes before
hasn't yet gone cold, and when he slides back into it, Derek reaches for him
adorably in his sleep.
Allowing himself to be pulled against his mate's warm, firm body, Stiles knows
he'll probably end up overheating pretty quickly in their little cocoon,
especially given that the sun is now in the sky. Until that happens, though, he
decides to just settle in and enjoy the comfort, turning in Derek's arms until
he's facing the alpha instead and can stare to his heart's content at his
sleeping face. It's a beautiful sight. Eventually, Derek's nose twitches a
couple of times before he snuffles closer and holds him a bit tighter.
Experience has taught him that these are signs that his wolf is waking up, so
he waits patiently and smiles fondly when sleepy hazel eyes blink open slowly
to peer into his own. "Hi," he whispers, bringing their faces closer and
kissing Derek on the tip of his nose. His gentle smile turns into a full-blown
grin when his wolf practically purrs like a cat and tucks himself into his
neck.
Stiles knows he'll never get enough of seeing Derek as open and affectionate as
he is whenever they're alone first thing in the morning. Every one of those
moments is incredibly precious to him.
"Mmm...you smell nice..." Derek mumbles, his nose pressed just behind Stiles'
ear. He smiles when his breaths cause the teen in his arms to giggle, the skin
the warm air blows against sensitive and ticklish. "This was a really good
idea, y'know, having a massive sleepover down here. You take such good care of
the betas... You're the best mate I could have ever asked for."
"You're gonna make me blush," Stiles chuckles awkwardly, a little uncomfortable
at getting so many compliments that early in the morning. He appreciates them
nevertheless. "You seem to be in a good mood, especially seeing as you haven't
had your coffee yet." He wedges one of his legs between Derek's as he runs his
right hand up and down the wolf's muscular back. When his mate just hums
sleepily into his neck again, he brings his hand to a stop, his palm resting
just above the waistband of the alpha's boxer-briefs. "You wouldn't happen to
be falling asleep on me again, would you? Did you not get enough last night or
something?"
Staying right where he is, Derek sighs into Stiles' warm skin before answering.
"Last night was fine," he begins, his voice quiet. "It was the night before
that was hell. My wolf wouldn't shut up again."
"You should've told me. Maybe I could've done something to help you," Stiles
reprimands softly, turning his head sideways a fraction so that he can press a
kiss to Derek's forehead. "I want you to wake me up if that ever happens again,
OK? I'm sure we can figure out a way to wear you out or something..." He grinds
his hips forward once to get the true meaning of his words across, smirking
when his wolf's breath hitches.
"Noted," Derek mumbles at the same time Stiles' phone chirps a few feet away.
He whines in protest when the teen tries to extricate himself from his embrace
to get it, not wanting to let his mate go just yet. "No! It's my turn to
request sleepy morning cuddles..."
Stiles manages to succeed in his escape attempt after a few seconds, after he
pries Derek's arms from around his waist. He grins down at his wolf when he
gets a look at the almost betrayed pout of his lips. "Relax, Sourwolf. I'm just
gonna check it and then I'll be right back in there with you," he assures,
ruffling Derek's hair once to make it even messier than it already was before
standing and walking over to the sofa. It's still pressed against the wall from
the previous night's puppy pile, and Stiles takes a seat on the edge of one of
the cushions after locating his phone. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when
he sees the new email that came in a minute before. It's from Danny, the
Hawaiian giving him everything he was able to scrounge up on Landon and
Jeremy's past. Stiles can't believe he forgot about all of that. There are
several attachments, and he glances guiltily down at Derek as he fights the
urge to get his laptop and look through them then and there.
"What is it?" Derek asks when Stiles remains silent. He levers himself up on
his elbow and peers over the top of his blanket so he can actually see the
teen.
Getting up, Stiles steps closer to Derek, the corner of his mouth quirking
upward when the alpha holds up the blankets, a clear invitation for him to get
back inside their little makeshift den. He doesn't actually make to join his
wolf again, though, and his guilt increases when Derek's expression changes,
going from expectant to confused and disappointed.
"It's nothing, really... Danny just sent me some more stuff he dug up on Jeremy
and Landon," Stiles explains quickly, biting his lip when Derek's face becomes
understanding and sympathetic. The disappointment doesn't disappear completely,
though. "Would you be mad if I looked through all of this now? I'm like, super
curious." He levels Derek with some of his best puppy eyes and feels hopeful
when the alpha rolls his eyes and flops back down to the floor, his arms thrown
over his head in defeat. A small nod is all the permission Stiles needs, and he
pounces on Derek and kisses him passionately to show his gratitude. Their
tongues tangle for a few seconds before he pulls away again. "Thanks, Sourwolf.
We can pick this back up tonight, yeah?" Feeling devilish, he licks a wet
stripe up the side of Derek's face before dashing upstairs to retrieve his
laptop, leaving the alpha downstairs to catch up on the few hours of sleep he's
still missing.
Stiles hears Derek's spluttering all the way from the second floor, and he
can't get rid of the wide smile that appears on his lips at the sound. His
cheeks begin to hurt before the muscles of his face relax again. After paying a
quick visit to their en suite bathroom to relieve himself, he bounds excitedly
up to the third floor library and finds his laptop exactly where he left it.
Taking a seat at one of the desks, Stiles switches the thing on and enters his
password before immediately going to his mailbox. The very first thing to pop
up is the email Danny just sent him:
'Hey, Stiles,
I looked into the history of your mom's town like you asked me to, and I think
you'll be satisfied with what I found. I also searched a bit more for any signs
of Landon in the years after he killed his brother and found some interesting
stuff. Let me know if you need me to do more.
Danny'
Downloading all the attachments Danny included in the email, Stiles smiles when
he finds they're all named and sorted in accordance with what information they
contain, whether on his mother or his newfound relatives. He moves them all to
their own folder on the desktop before taking a deep breath and opening the
first one. It's a copy of a police report, written by one of the officers who
was first on the scene after Sonia murdered everybody in her town. Of course,
because it's written in Polish he can't read the actual report, but after
scrolling down, he finds that Danny has provided a summary of its contents on
the next page of the PDF document. He soaks up all the words eagerly. The
descriptions of how the officer found all the townspeople are disturbing
graphic, so much so that they actually turn Stiles' hardened stomach a little.
'It was apparently a bloodbath, with bodies absolutely everywhere. Some of them
were still intact, but for the most part, everybody was ripped limb from limb
like a sleuth of grizzly bears had torn through the town. That would've been
unusual enough in itself, but things only got stranger the further the officers
investigated.
When they got to the house owned by Alek and his wife, they couldn't even
identify which parts belonged to whom.
The living room was drenched in blood, and pound after pound of pulverised
flesh was strewn across the floor like someone had taken a meat tenderiser and
used it for hours. Only a DNA test could confirm that the flesh belonged to
Alek, his wife and, sadly, their unborn child. The body of Sonia Kowalczyk was
found hanging in the master bedroom, her hands stained red. Investigators were
stumped trying to figure out how one woman could do all that, and the case is
still a mystery to this day. The only survivor of the massacre was Sonia's
niece, Cesia, whose current whereabouts aren't listed.'
Stiles has to sit there in silence for almost a full ten minutes before
everything he's just read sinks in. He thinks it's no wonder his mother wanted
to distance herself from all of that as much as she could, knowing he would
probably try and do the same if something similar happened to the pack.
After skimming over the document one more time to make sure he caught every
little detail, Stiles moves on to the others. They're all about Landon's
killing spree across the States in the years between Jeremy's death and his
own. Danny has managed to find newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping, all
of them news stories or obituaries for large groups of people in different
towns. None of them actually say it for obvious reasons, but Stiles knows
without having to think about it that each one is a different pack Landon took
out in order to steal a new power for himself. When Stiles gets to the last
document, he's surprised to find that it's something different. It's a copy of
a record from a private investigator residing in Arkansas, a man named Sam
Smith. The name is so generic that he instantly assumes it's fake, and he gets
why. A job like that must put the man in the path of some dangerous individuals
regularly, so it's probably for his safety that he doesn't use his real name.
Landon apparently went to Sam in hopes of finding out more about his biological
family. It wasn't a very successful venture, and when Stiles reads the standard
list of things Sam requires for a search like that, an authentic birth
certificate is right at the top. He supposes this find answers his earlier
question, whether or not Landon knew about their familial connection when he
came back to Beacon Hills, with a resounding 'no'. It also explains why Landon
went looking for the document in the old Hale vault when he was holding his dad
and the betas prisoner there.
After he flips the screen of his laptop shut, Stiles feels a sense of closure,
the wounds that were ripped open by the discovery of his mother's secret past
beginning to scab over.
Returning to the ground floor, Stiles reenters the living room and finds Derek
fast asleep right where he left him, wrapped up in the pile of blankets in the
middle of the floor. Never one to reject the notion of a nap, he quickly joins
his mate beneath the blankets and snuggles up close.
                                     * * *
- Monday, September 3rd, 2012 -
After another boring day of school, Stiles gets back home and all but collapses
on the living room sofa, exhausted. He lies on his front with his legs dangling
awkwardly over one of the armrests; it's a little uncomfortable, but he doesn't
care enough to do anything about it. Ms. Adler's lessons are officially back
on, the woman's classroom looking clean and tidy again as if nothing ever
happened to it. Chemistry was his last class of the day, and it was a real
chore putting up with her gravelly voice for the full hour as she droned on and
on and on. Luckily, Lydia's plan appeared to have calmed down her temper quite
a bit; instead of picking on him the whole time like she normally would, Stiles
was pleasantly surprised when the woman only glared at him once at the
beginning of class before ignoring him for the rest of it. It was a vast
improvement, one he hopes lasts until he graduates.
Stiles looks up from where he has his face buried in his arms when he hears
footsteps approaching. He finds Derek standing in the doorway to the kitchen,
looking expectantly down at him.
His wolf is shirtless, with his old basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.
The sight of the trainers on Derek's feet reminds Stiles that they were
supposed to go on a run together as soon as he got home, and he groans and
curses his past self for agreeing to it as he takes his wolf's proffered hand
and pulls himself up again.
"Lemme just get changed and then we'll go, OK?" Stiles mumbles distractedly,
walking around Derek to head up to their bedroom. He rakes a hand through his
hair as he ascends the stairs to the second floor, trying and failing to blink
the tiredness from his eyes. When he gets back down in the foyer, he finds the
front door is wide open, and through it he spies Derek waiting for him on the
grass, a water bottle in one hand and another clipped to the waistband of his
shorts. Not wanting to keep his mate waiting any longer, Stiles puts on his own
running shoes before rushing outside, slamming the front door closed as he
goes.
"Ready?" Derek asks when he turns around and watches Stiles hop down the front
steps toward him. When the teen nods, he returns it and hands over the second
water bottle before setting off.
Leading the way, Derek keeps the pace sedate in deference to Stiles' energy
levels. He can easily sense that they're not anywhere near one-hundred percent
in that moment, so he plans on keeping things light and relaxed the entire time
they're exercising. The two of them run in silence, their heavy footfalls and
Stiles' increasingly laboured breathing the only sounds in the preserve.
The shelter of the trees obscures the majority of the sun, meaning that Stiles
is in less danger of getting burned by its rays.
He finds it difficult to keep up with Derek and glares at the alpha's tanned
back as a result, internally cursing his werewolf stamina because it always
puts him to shame. If it were up to him, he wouldn't even participate in these
runs, but because he knows it means a lot to Derek to share this with him, he
perseveres and pushes through the aching of his feet and leg muscles. After a
few minutes, he notices that Derek has altered their route a little. The new
one contains less steep inclines, the ground staying relatively flat, and for
this he's incredibly grateful. He knows he'll probably sleep like a baby later
on that night regardless, but at least now there's less danger of him passing
out before it's actually time to go to bed.
About half an hour into their run, Derek brings them to a stop next to a
particularly thick tree and unclips his water bottle from his shorts to drink
from it deeply. Sweat has begun gathering on his brow, the exertion finally
beginning to take a toll on his body, so he keeps his head tilted back as he
wipes the perspiration away with his free hand.
Stiles copies Derek, though he drinks his water a little more calmly since he's
still trying to catch his breath; he has to stop to take in more air every few
seconds.
Getting distracted by the sight of Derek's flushed body, he accidentally pours
water down the front of his shirt, soaking the material and making it stick to
his skin. He pays it no mind, though, the cool liquid feeling good against his
heated skin. His eyes are repeatedly drawn to the dark tuft of hair peeking out
from Derek's armpit every time the alpha raises his arm, and he barely resists
the urge to move closer and nose into it. He takes one aborted step forward
before catching himself and refocusing on quenching his thirst. When he's
consumed half his water, he flips the cap closed again, clips it back in place
on his waist, and waits for Derek to finish as well. The sound of the man's
throat working to swallow reaches his ears, and this combined with the musky
scent of sweat drifting over on the gentle breeze sparks arousal in his gut.
Hoping that Derek doesn't smell where his mind has gone, Stiles knows it's
pointless when one of the wolf's eyes snaps open to look right at him, an
amused twinkle complementing the small ring of red that appears around the
pupil. "Shut up..." he orders, narrowing his eyes when Derek laughs at him and
wipes his mouth of excess water.
"I didn't say anything," Derek replies, purposefully raising his hands above
his head and making a show of stretching. He feels Stiles' eyes on him the
whole time. "See something you like?"
Stiles bursts out laughing when Derek strikes a pose against the tree next to
which he stands, arching his back with one hand pressed to the trunk above his
head and the other down by his leg, trying and purposefully failing at being
seductive. Half-lidded eyes and an exaggerated pout complete the look. "I
thought I was supposed to be the joker of this relationship, or are you trying
to steal my place now?" Stiles cackles, quickly regaining his earlier shortness
of breath. He has to bend over and lean on his knees to calm himself down again
when it gets to be too much, the unexpectedness of Derek's playfulness only
adding to the hilarity of it all. When he can breathe normally again, he pushes
himself back up and shakes his head fondly. "C'mon, you big dummy... Let's
finish this so we can go home and I can have my way with you."
More than happy to oblige his mate, Derek fights off the smile on his face as
he starts jogging again, feeling good about himself because he made Stiles
laugh, intentionally, which is a rarity. The water bottle on his waist feels
lighter, which makes his movements seem freer and easier.
Eventually, they reach the point in their route where it loops back around to
the house, indicating that their run is nearly over.
Derek is content to feel the burn in his legs, satisfied that he's burning off
all the weight Stiles' delicious food would no doubt put on his body otherwise.
He's had to increase the frequency with which he exercises to compensate for
the change in his diet, though he definitely thinks it's more than worth it. He
enjoys the work well enough regardless, but the fact that it also means he can
stuff his face as much as he likes is certainly a plus. In fact, he becomes so
caught up in his own head, imagining all of the things Stiles could make for
them both, that he doesn't notice the strange smell that's begun filling the
air before it's too late.
Coming over the crest of a particularly long and sloping hill, Derek freezes in
his tracks when sees what's now in front of him.
A mysterious figure stands in the very centre of the clearing below, wearing a
huge black cloak, complete with a hood that covers their head and hides all
their features. They look fairly tall, leading Derek to assume that it's
another man. The stranger stands facing away from him and Stiles, stock still
with their arms at their sides, seemingly unaware that they've been stumbled
upon.
Stiles doesn't see that Derek has come to a stop in time to avoid a collision.
He crashes into the man, and it's like hitting solid bricks which send him
rebounding backward and down onto his ass. Hitting the ground with a loud
thump, he winces when the impact jolts up his spine all the way to the base of
his skull, sending shockwaves of pain through the rest of his body. "Ugh, what
was that for?" he whines, rubbing at the back of his head. When Derek doesn't
answer, he opens his eyes again and squints up at his mate, frowning when the
man doesn't move to help. Derek doesn't even turn around, like he didn't hear
his question. "Der?" Wondering what has his wolf so distracted, Stiles peers
around his strong legs and gasps in shock when he sees what has the alpha so
distracted.
Snapping out of his staring, Derek steps back and reaches down blindly for
Stiles' hand when the stranger finally notices they have two unexpected
visitors. The noise the teen made running into him must have alerted them.
The stranger whirls around, their black cloak billowing around their body and
making them look a lot bigger than they did before.
When the stranger flicks up their hand and sends something flying in his
direction, Derek yells for Stiles to duck as he himself dives off to the left
and out of the way. Luckily, he was apparently fast enough to dodge the
unexpected attack, but when he springs back to his feet, he quickly finds that
his good fortune was transient. He wasn't anticipating a second attempt to come
so soon, so he's unprepared when something else comes flying at his face the
second he stands again at his full height. The only thing he's able to do is
raise his hands so that whatever it is hits his palms instead. The force of it
knocks him off his feet, sending him rolling down the hill to the bottom of the
clearing.
Hearing screams of pain, Stiles glances up from where he'd thrown himself flat
on his back and searches for the source of the noise. His breath hitches and
his mouth hangs open when he sees Derek writhing on the ground, the sound and
smell of burning flesh quickly filling the air.
As much as he wants to scurry over to his mate and get a closer look at what's
wrong, he can't let his guard down just yet; their attacker is still present
and could strike again at any given moment.
This means that Stiles is forced to leave Derek alone on the ground for the
time being, even though the mere thought of it makes his chest feel tight.
Jumping up, he looks around the clearing for the stranger, swallowing nervously
when he sees that they're standing calmly in the same spot, apparently
unconcerned about getting hurt by any retaliation. Still, Stiles can't let them
get away with hurting Derek like that, so he's quick to focus his magic and
hurl a fireball in their direction. It says a lot about the past couple of
years that he's not surprised when they seem to disappear right in front of his
eyes, his fire flying through the now-empty air to impact and burn out
instantly against a tree.
After waiting a few seconds to make sure the stranger has actually left, Stiles
hurries over to his wolf and crashes to his knees next to his shuddering body.
The occasional whine of pain still slips out of Derek's mouth, and when Stiles
looks down at his hands, he can see why. The skin of his palms is burned away,
so much so that he thinks he can actually see some of the bone beneath.
Whatever the stranger threw at him must have been acidic, and Stiles has to
swallow hard to keep down the bile that threatens to come up at the sight. The
only positive is that the wounds look like they're beginning to heal now,
though it appears it's going to be a slow process.
"OK... I can do this..." Stiles mumbles to himself, reaching forward and
resting a tentative hand on Derek's shoulder. He's glad when this causes the
alpha's eyes to snap open, immediately meeting his. "Shh, Sourwolf. You're
gonna be fine." When a gentle hand under his arm, he pulls his wolf up to stand
again, wincing in sympathy when Derek just stares with wide eyes down at his
hands, his mouth a tight line. One side of the man's face is smeared with dirt,
and he has several twigs and leaves caught in his hair. Stiles feels a small
flash of horror when he sees that Derek's torso is also covered in a clear
slime, just like it was in the first vision he had with Deaton weeks ago. He
guesses it's a byproduct of whatever spell, potion or curse was used, and this
makes him nervous about being in Derek's presence. He fears that what he saw
back then, his wolf becoming almost feral and attacking him, will come true any
second.
When Derek seemingly remains one-hundred percent himself even a full minute
later, Stiles brushes off the fear and urges his wolf to start walking back
toward the house.
Derek doesn't speak for most of the journey, which worries Stiles immensely.
Since they're closer to the house now and the ground is a lot flatter, he feels
comfortable glancing sideways at the man to check up on him. "How're you
doing?" he asks carefully.
Finally looking up from his hands at Stiles' question, Derek returns the teen's
concerned gaze and lowers his arms, careful to hold them out from his sides so
he doesn't accidentally brush his palms against the material of his basketball
shorts. "I'm OK now, I think... The pain's getting less intense, but this is
probably going to take a while to heal all the way," he answers, trying and
failing to control his anger when his mind replays the short fight in his head.
"Whoever that bastard was, when I get my hands on them next, I'm gonna snap
their neck!"
"Right there with ya, big guy..." Stiles sighs, letting Derek stew in his
thoughts as the house finally comes back into view.
Derek allows himself to be shepherded through the front door after Stiles
unlocks it with fumbling hands. He preempts his mate's next instruction and
heads immediately upstairs and into their en suite bathroom, before the teen
can even close the front door again. Taking a seat on the toilet, he rests his
hands palms-up on his knees and listens as Stiles scuttles from room to room
down on the first floor, opening and closing cupboards and spitting out
expletives under his breath. Looking down at his hands, Derek sighs in relief
when he can no longer see any exposed bone, his flesh knitting itself back
together bit by bit. Thankfully, as long as nothing actually touches the
wounds, he doesn't feel any pain from them anymore. He guesses it'll take
another hour at most for them to heal completely.
"Alright," Stiles starts when he kicks open the bathroom door a few seconds
later, his arms laden with a multitude of things, "let's get you taken care
of."
Dumping everything in a pile on the floor by Derek's feet, he kneels down next
to it before reaching up to inspect his mate's injuries. Now that Derek's hands
are partially healed, the raw, red flesh slowly being covered again my new pink
skin, Stiles is able to see just how much dirt the alpha got on them when he
fell. It's not a lot, but he guesses it's enough to need cleaning if everything
is to heal properly. He looks up at Derek's face to gauge his reaction, but the
man speaks before he can.
"Just do it," Derek bites out, his body already tensed in preparation for pain
when Stiles nods and opens a new packet of cotton balls and wets a couple with
antiseptic.
Wanting to get the worst part out of the way quickly, Stiles begins dabbing the
cotton ball over the burns on Derek's hands, apologising profusely when the man
hisses loudly as soon as it makes contact with his raw skin. "Just a little bit
more..." he assures his wolf, tossing the first soiled ball into the dustbin
that sits a few feet away before picking up a second and moving onto Derek's
other hand. He works efficiently, having had a lot of practice cleaning wounds
of various severities in recent months. Whenever any of the betas get hurt,
either by getting into petty arguments with each other or from a training
session gone too far, he'll be right there with his little first aid kit to
take care of them until their werewolf healing does its job.
Years ago, whenever he and Scott used to get up to all sorts of mischief that
usually lead to one of them hurting themselves, Melissa McCall would always
patch them up. He used to sit and watch how the woman did it. He was fascinated
with the process and wanted to learn everything he could about it, even going
so far as to purposefully injure himself so he see it over again. He only
stopped when his mother cottoned on to what he was doing and begged him to
stop. He calmed down after that because he felt terrible for worrying her.
"OK, I think we're all done with this," Stiles tells Derek a minute later when
he deems the man's hands to be clean enough.
"Thanks..." Derek replies, frowning when he finds he has to crack his eyes open
again. He didn't realise he'd closed them. Looking down at Stiles' handiwork,
he gets a better look at the rest of his body and wrinkles his nose at what he
sees. Whatever slime is still on the bare skin of his torso is beginning to
dry, becoming crusty and uncomfortable. He doesn't know what the substance
actually is, but he's nevertheless thankful for that fact that it doesn't smell
of anything. "Ugh, I feel disgusting..."
Stiles looks thoughtfully over at the shower and contemplates the logistics of
getting Derek clean. Nodding to himself, he stands and walks over to the stall
before reaching inside and turning the knob on the wall to start the water.
Turning back to his mate, Stiles retrieves a couple of fluffy towels and two
pairs of sweatpants in advance before pulling the man to his feet. "Right...
This is doable, but you'll have to make sure you keep your hands out of the
spray the whole time so you don't hurt yourself any, OK?" he explains, reaching
down and undoing the tie on Derek's basketball shorts since the wolf can't do
it himself. Once they fall to the floor, he watches as his mate steps out of
them and kicks them off to the side. They fly into the wall before falling in a
heap in the corner. Sticking his hand underneath the detachable shower head to
check the temperature of the water, Stiles waits a couple of seconds for it to
warm up fully before shedding his own clothes.
When Derek doesn't immediately move to follow him inside the stall, he sticks
his head back out and stares confusedly at his wolf. He finds the alpha
standing beside the toilet, looking down at his feet as the tips of his ears
turn pink. "What's wrong?" he asks, stepping out onto the tiled floor again.
"I kinda, well...I need to pee," Derek mumbles, refusing to meet Stiles' eyes.
He feels bad about asking for the teen's help for this on top of everything
else.
Stiles' eyes widen, having not expected that answer. He easily picks up on how
embarrassed Derek is just speaking those words, though, so he hides his own
feelings about it and steps closer, raising a hand to cup one of Derek's
bearded cheeks and bring his face up again. "It's fine, Sourwolf; I don't
mind," he assures softly, smiling fondly at Derek when he just nods jerkily,
the blush on his face intensifying. Bringing their mouths together in an effort
to comfort, Stiles hums into the kiss and strokes his thumb across his wolf's
cheekbone when he pulls away. Moving his hand from Derek's face, he rests it
instead on the alpha's shoulder and nods his head toward the toilet. "Turn
around."
After Derek does as he says, Stiles flips up the toilet seat before crowding up
behind him. He tucks his chin over Derek's shoulder and rubs his left hand over
the man's stomach to keep him relaxed, ruffling the fine hairs the lead down
from his navel with a finger.
With his other hand, Stiles reaches around Derek's hip and takes the man's
flaccid cock in a careful hold, drawing back the foreskin so the head is
exposed and pointing it down at the bowl.
"Go ahead," he whispers, continuing to move his hand up and down Derek's torso.
When he ends up standing there for almost thirty seconds without anything
happening, he assumes that Derek is still too mortified to let go in front of
him. Butting their heads together gently, he holds his lips close to the
alpha's ear and mutters, "Seriously, Sourwolf, let me do this for you."
Another few seconds later, Stiles feels Derek's cock twitch in his hand before
a stream of piss finally spurts forth from the slit. He looks back down over
the alpha's shoulder and watches as the pale yellow liquid splashes into the
toilet. The stream is stronger than he was expecting; Derek was obviously more
desperate to relieve himself than he let on, a realisation that Stiles will
definitely be bringing up again later when everything is over. It just seems to
go on and on, and about halfway through, Stiles is brought out of his staring
when Derek moans quietly next to him and tilts his head back, apparently
enjoying emptying his bladder quite a bit.
Stiles has to admit, especially when Derek turns to look at him with hooded
eyes, that the whole experience his startlingly erotic.
He never would've thought something like this would turn him on, but, lo and
behold, when he glances down between their bodies, he sees his own cock
sticking out hard and proud between his legs, in danger of poking into the firm
hair-dusted globes of Derek's ass.
It's a combination of things, really. There's the fact that Derek trusts him
and is comfortable enough with him to let him see him like this, to hold his
soft length in his hand as he performs what is usually such a private act. The
intimacy of it all gets to him, and he finds himself moving forward without
even thinking, connecting their mouths again in an intense kiss. Because he's
already in such a vulnerable position, Stiles isn't surprised when Derek stays
submissive in the kiss, letting him take control of it without a fight.
The other thing that's affecting him so much is more unexpected. The actual act
of seeing Derek let loose a stream of hot, not-quite-clear urine stokes a fire
in his gut that he never could have anticipated. Ideas and wants spring into
his mind, ones he never imagined he would have ever in his life. He recalls the
conversation he and Derek had the morning after they returned to Beacon Hills,
about the alpha's instinct to mark his territory in every way possible. He can
definitely get on board with that idea now. In that moment, nothing sounds
better than getting down on his knees and letting Derek shower him in piss,
than bathing in the pungent liquid until he smells of nothing else. He longs to
wrap his lips around the head of Derek's cock and drink it down right from the
source like it's the tastiest treat imaginable, to fill his stomach with it
until it swells and he can return the favour.
Unfortunately, by the time Stiles brings himself out of his fantasising and
ends the kiss, Derek's bladder is almost completely empty, the stream tapering
off.
He figures it's probably for the best. Even though he can't wait to make his
fantasies a reality, he knows it isn't a very good idea to do so while Derek is
still hurt. Still, when the stream ends and the last few drops of piss spurt
forth from the slit, he moves his hand at the last second and catches them on
his finger. His breath stops when the heat of it seeps into his skin.
"Stiles?" Derek asks breathlessly when the teen remains standing still, staring
down at his hand with what looks like wonder in his eyes. When Stiles finally
looks at him again, he watches with rapt attention as the boy brings his hand
up and takes it in his mouth.
A quiet moan escapes Stiles as he sucks on his index finger, running his tongue
around the digit to make sure he collects all the bitter liquid. He does this
with each finger until his hand is licked clean, keeping his eyes locked with
Derek's shocked ones the entire time. Tasting just skin now, he slides his
pinky from his mouth and smiles shyly before hiding his face in Derek's
shoulder. "Sorry... I was just...curious," he answers huskily, taking a couple
of deep breathes before raising his head again. "I gotta say I'm intrigued
about, y'know, the whole 'marking me as yours' thing, more than I was before. I
don't know... I didn't think seeing you taking a piss would be as hot as it
was, but there ya go. I found it very hot. Unfortunately, it's gonna have to
wait for another day, though. For now, let's just get you cleaned up and tucked
into bed, OK? We can talk more about this when you're feeling better."
Still too shocked to answer, Derek just lets himself be pushed gently into the
shower. Because of what just happened, he doesn't think and forgets about
Stiles' earlier warning, hissing in pain when he steps into the spray and the
water runs over his hands.
Rolling his eyes, Stiles puts Derek into position himself, wrapping his hands
around the alpha's wrists and bringing his arms up so that they stick out in
front of him like he's doing a bad impression of a zombie. "Keep 'em like that,
OK?" he reiterates for good measure, just in case his wolf has another lapse in
judgement.
Doing as his mate says, Derek stands with his back to the spray and looks
straight ahead. He listens intently as Stiles sorts through all the toiletries
they keep in their large shower caddy, which runs up the corner furthest away
from the shower head. His eyes close when the teen steps close and tilts his
head back, slender fingers running through his hair and pulling out the various
dried leaves and small twigs that are still stuck there. When the last of it is
gone, thrown out of the stall to land in a pile on the tiled floor, he hums low
in his throat when Stiles' hands return to his hair, this time with a liberal
amount of shampoo in his palms. He leans into the teen's touches as the shampoo
is worked into a lather, his eyelids fluttering when Stiles apparently decides
he's in need of a head massage.
"This OK?" Stiles asks after a few seconds, not sure how to interpret Derek's
silence. Because of the noise created by the shower, he cannot hear the alpha's
noises of pleasure.
"More than..." Derek groans, his voice sounding low and gravelly. Stiles'
touches feel so good that, if the teen still doesn't know what career he wants
to pursue when it comes time to go to college, he thinks that he'll definitely
be suggesting a career as a masseur. At least that's what he'd do if the
thought of Stiles touching a bunch of naked strangers didn't stir a load of
intensely possessive feelings in his gut. After a few more seconds of
contemplation, his wolf huffs in agreement when he dismisses the idea as a very
stupid one.
Because he now sees how much Derek appears to be enjoying it, Stiles keeps up
the head massage for longer than he was intending, not stopping until his hands
begin to cramp.
When they do, he extracts his fingers from Derek's hair and urges him to step
backward a little so that his head is under the shower's spray. Cupping a hand
against his wolf's forehead, right at his hairline so that he doesn't
accidentally get shampoo in his eyes, Stiles uses his free hand to wash the
white lather from the dark strands until the water running down the drain turns
clear. Once it does, he puts Derek back into the position he was in before.
"Now for the conditioner..." Stiles mumbles, reaching behind himself for the
bottle and squeezing out a generous dollop of the stuff into his palm. He works
it through Derek's hair and leaves it in, not planning on washing it out again
until everything else is done so that the alpha's hair is as silky as possible.
This should be fun, he thinks with a private smile, glad that his wolf still
has his eyes closed and thus cannot see his face. After retrieving Derek's
usual cinnamon-scented shower gel, Stiles looks over the man's body
appreciatively and notes that some of the clear slime their assailant threw at
him earlier has already been washed off. Deciding to start with Derek's back,
he steps behind the alpha and runs his hands across the tattooed skin in wide
strokes.
Derek arches into Stiles' hands, very much enjoying having all of the teen's
attention focused on him. He practically purrs when the teen begins working out
some of the knots that his fall caused, biting his lip to prevent the sound
from actually escaping.
At the start of the shower, Stiles was planning on keeping his touches as
casual and methodical as possible
He wanted to get through it quickly to avoid accidentally causing Derek any
more pain, but because he's keeping his hands out of the way, the alpha seems
to be getting some serious enjoyment out of the whole thing. This makes Stiles
throw his earlier plans out of the metaphorical window, deciding to instead
shower his mate in pleasure to make up for what he experienced earlier in the
preserve. He hasn't had much practice giving massages, but from Derek's rather
vocal responses, he guesses he's doing a pretty good job of it.
Once Stiles works out the last knot in Derek's back, he adds some more shower
gel to his hands before moving lower. Crouching down in the basin puts the
alpha's ass right in his face, a situation he would take full advantage of in
any other situation.
As it is, Stiles just fits a cheek in each hand before rubbing the gel into the
hair-dusted globes, smirking up at the back of Derek's head when the man bends
forward and sticks his ass out further for easier access. He runs his hands
down the backs of his wolf's powerful thighs and calves a couple of times
before returning to his ass, shrugging to himself as he pulls the cheeks apart.
He swipes his tongue once up the centre and swirls it around the tight pucker
of Derek's hole, chuckling at the small whine the alpha releases as he draws
back and licks his lips. "Later, Sourwolf," he assures, stroking a hand
soothingly across the small of Derek's back, "when you're all healed up."
Pushing himself to his feet again, he takes the shower head out of its holder
and aims it at Derek's back to wash away all the shower gel still on his skin.
"Turn around," Stiles instructs as he fits the shower head back in place. His
movements falter for a second when Derek obliges and he gets an eyeful of the
man's cock, apparently very interested in the proceedings. "Eager, huh?"
Even with the hard length in front of him just begging to be touched, Stiles is
resolute in his decision to wait, going back to his earlier plan of keeping
things casual as he washes Derek's front.
Skirting quickly around his mate's nipples and over his cock so that he doesn't
work the man up any more than he already is, it takes a couple of washes before
all the slime still on his skin is gone. Derek's arms are the last part to be
washed, and he's incredibly cautious about doing so. By this point, he can see
that his wolf's hands are basically all healed, the skin of his palms new and
pink. Still, he doesn't want to risk it, so he washes Derek's forearms and
biceps as fast as possible before dipping his hands into the recesses of his
armpits.
Touching Derek there sparks a new wave of arousal through Stiles' body, and he
knows Derek can smell it when the man's nostrils flare and a small growl slips
past his lips.
Coughing awkwardly, Stiles quickly works the gel into Derek's armpits before
using the shower head to wash him clean. "Wait for me outside, OK?" he
instructs, opening the stall and pointing to the bathroom outside. When Derek
steps out onto the floor, Stiles closes the glass door again and makes quick
work of himself, turning the water temperature right down in an attempt to rid
himself of his lust as he scrubs at his skin vigorously. Because he didn't end
up nearly as dirty as Derek, it's not long before he's turning off the shower
and stepping out onto the cool tile as well, immediately grabbing one of the
fluffy towels he brought in earlier and drying himself off. He's very much
aware that Derek's eyes are on him the entire time, but he does his best to
ignore the heat of the man's gaze.
Picking up the second towel, Stiles dries Derek with gentle hands, rubbing the
white material over his dark hair for a minute before dropping it into the
laundry to take care of later.
Following Stiles out into their bedroom, Derek prods tentatively at his palms
with a finger, wincing when he feels a small spark of pain at the point of
contact. He guesses it'll take another half an hour or so for him to be one-
hundred percent back to normal, so for now, he puts up with Stiles' mother-
henning, knowing it makes his mate feel better to take care of him.
After ordering Derek into bed, Stiles tucks the blankets up to the alpha's
waist when he sits at the head and props himself up with their pillows. "I want
you to stay here for the rest of the day, OK?" he frets, making sure that
Derek's hands are laid palms-up in his lap and paying no attention to the very
extreme eye roll he gets in return. "Absolutely no moving! You want something,
you ask me to get it for you. Seriously, if you leave this bed before I say
you're ready, there will be serious consequences, Mr.!" He points a finger at
Derek, so close to his nose that the alpha has to cross his eyes to see it
properly. The goofy sight causes his stern expression to crack, an amused grin
appearing on his face instead. "Alright... I'm gonna make you some food and
then see if I can figure out what that dick did to you. Be a good boy and
stay."
Letting the boy get away with the dog joke for once, Derek gives into Stiles'
demands, nodding and grumbling good-naturedly while he watches the teen bustle
about the room, putting on fresh clothes and cleaning up the mess they brought
in with them. He doesn't plan on ever saying it out loud, but he can admit to
himself that it feels rather nice being pampered by his mate like this.
When he's gathered all their soiled clothes, Stiles glares threateningly in
Derek's direction one last time before exiting the room.
Relaxing fully back into the pillows, Derek sits there stupidly for several
minutes and wonders what he's supposed to do while he waits. The remote for the
flatscreen television they have mounted on the opposite wall is just a few feet
away on the nightstand, so he takes it carefully between his thumb and index
finger and pulls it closer so he can see the buttons better. He does his best
to ignore the stinging in his hands as he navigates between channels, looking
for something to hold his interest until Stiles returns.
After finally selecting something, Derek frowns when the room seems to heat up
suddenly, causing sweat to bead across his brow. He guesses Stiles must have
turned up the thermostat as he went downstairs, but instead of actually yelling
for the teen and asking, he just pushes the sheets down around his ankles to
compensate for the increase in temperature, hoping that'll help.
He refocuses on the scene playing out on the television screen.
Downstairs, Stiles enters the laundry room and begins sorting through their
clothes, coming to a halt when he sees the state Derek's basketball shorts are
in. The front is smeared with dirt and slime. He's considering just putting
them through the wash anyway and hoping for the best when he notices the
multitude of small cuts and holes in the legs. The shorts were basically
hanging on by a thread before, but the tumble Derek took back in the preserve
was apparently the final straw. They'll definitely fall apart completely if he
tries to clean them, so he sighs sadly and just throws them away. It's a little
heartbreaking because they used to feature prominently in most of his sexual
fantasies, but he supposes with a salacious grin that Derek can always get a
replacement at some point in the near future.
After getting the washing machine going, Stiles heads through to the kitchen
and looks through the cupboards for something simple he can cook. He settles on
soup, not wanting to make anything more elaborate than that because he doesn't
really feel right being away from Derek longer than he needs to be.
It's when he's halfway through heating up the soup that he hears it. A loud
thump vibrates through the ceiling, like something heavy fell to the floor.
Frowning, Stiles turns off the stove before walking back into the foyer and
standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Der?" he calls, growing more concerned
when he doesn't receive an answer after several seconds. It's not like Derek to
ignore him, so he goes back up to the second floor and pushes their bedroom
door open. He steps slowly through it.
The bed is empty, the sheets a wrinkled and torn up mess where they lay at the
foot of the mattress. "What the hell...?" Stiles whispers, looking around the
room to see if he can locate his mate without moving from his spot in the
doorway. He's unsuccessful, so he takes a cautious step forward with the intent
of checking the bathroom for his wolf and freezes again when he hears quiet
growling coming from around the other side of the bed. Changing his path, he
walks around the frame until Derek comes into view. The alpha is kneeling low
on the carpet, hunched in on himself as his body shudders violently. "Derek?
What's wrong?"
Stiles feels his heart begin to beat faster in fear when the alpha turns to him
slowly, the growling getting louder when their eyes meet.
Derek's face is shifted into its beta form, complete with prominent brow and
wiry sideburns. Sweat pours down his face and shoulders and his breaths are
laboured, his chest heaving with each one. After a few seconds of tense silence
where neither of them move in inch, Derek launches forward without warning, his
claws out and pointing right at Stiles' chest.
Flailing away from the attack, Stiles yells when his ass connects hard with the
floor and sends a painful jolt up his spine. Thinking in the back of his mind
that his vision is coming true after all, he crawls backward until he puts the
bed between himself and Derek and watches, terrified, as his wolf pushes
himself slowly to his feet. The alpha looks feral, like there's nothing but a
wild animal left inside his head, and Stiles holds his hands out in a feeble
attempt to placate the man and prevent another attempt on his life. He never
thought he'd be in this situation, so he's at a complete loss about what he
should do.
"Derek, c'mon, you don't want to hurt me, right? We're mates; you love me,
remember?" he asks with a shaky voice, trying desperately to tap into whatever
humanity may be left inside Derek's mind.
When the alpha tilts his head to the side, almost he's examining him and
mulling over his words, Stiles takes a shuddering breath and stands a little
bit taller, hoping that his attempt is working. Those hopes are quickly dashed
when Derek roars and pounces at him again, leaping over the bed and tackling
him to the floor. He struggles with all his might, not wanting to die and also
knowing that it would kill Derek, too, to know that he was the cause of it
whenever he comes back to himself. His wrists are pinned above his head, claws
piercing his skin and causing blood to run down and stain the pale carpet
beneath him. Having never been one to give up even when all signs point to him
being bested, Stiles manages to wedge one of his legs between Derek's and aim a
kick upward, praying that getting kneed in the crotch will be enough for him to
escape. Of course, he's not that lucky.
All it does it cause Derek to howl in pain and tighten his grip, snapping his
fangs so close to Stiles' face that the teen is surprise he doesn't get his
nose bitten off. "Derek, please don't do this..." he whimpers, the bones in his
wrists grinding together, almost being ground to dust.
Stiles stops breathing when the constant rumbling coming from Derek's chest
gets louder before abruptly cutting off, the alpha's body shuddering atop his
own.
"I don't k-know what happening..." Derek stutters out suddenly, his head bowed.
The last thing he remembers is getting hotter and hotter until a sharp pain
shot through his head. He opened his mouth to call out to Stiles and found his
voice didn't work, so he attempted to get up instead, only to have his legs
buckle as soon as his feet touched the floor. He can smell Stiles' fear—the
scent is thick and acrid in is nostrils—and tries so desperately to stop
himself, but whatever's gotten inside his mind is powerful and unforgiving.
Derek manages to release Stiles' wrists from his grip with immense effort,
sweat continuing to wet his skin and drip down onto the carpet the entire time.
"I d-don't think I can stop myself for long..." he groans, whining in confusion
when his hips thrust forward of their own accord.
Rubbing at what he knows will soon become bruises around his wrists, Stiles
sucks in a shocked breath when he feels Derek's hard length rub against his
right hipbone. He wonders for a second whether it'd be possible to get his wolf
locked up down in the basement catacombs before his control breaks again, but
when the alpha whines pitifully a second time and grinds his hips down once
more, Stiles knows it's just wishful thinking. "OK...OK, I can do this," he
tells himself, keeping his movements slow as he turns over and army crawls out
from under Derek's shaking form. He doesn't make it very far, because the man
grabs a rough hold of his ankle before he can even push himself up to his
knees. "We're gonna be fine, Der. We've just gotta ride this out." He prays for
his hunch to be right, that whatever Derek is going through is just another
version of the curse Isaac was afflicted with the previous weekend. Once it has
run its course, he hopes it dissipates.
From his position on the floor, Stiles is just about able to reach up to the
top drawer in his bedside table. He fumbles about inside blindly until he finds
their lube.
"Hurry!" Derek growls angrily, his restraint wearing thin with every second.
The sight of Stiles crawling away from him, trying to escape, didn't help
matters, only worsening the savage instincts burning away inside his head. He
just about manages to let go of Stiles' ankle so that the teen can take off his
sweatpants, but that's about the extent of his control.
Flipping himself over onto his back, Stiles' hands shake as he slicks up his
fingers and brings his hand down between his legs, wincing when he shoves two
straight in without preamble. He wants to get himself ready as fast as possible
so Derek doesn't have to struggle any longer than is necessary. His ass burns
and protests the rough treatment, but he pushes through it, just managing to
work up to three fingers before he hears Derek howl. The alpha is on him again
in the next second, pushing his limbs out of the way and hunching his hips
forward again and again as he gets them both in position. All Stiles can do is
lie there and take it, figuring it'll hurt less for both of them if he doesn't
resist in any way. He only has a second to worry about the fact that Derek
isn't slicked up at all before he feels it.
The first breach has him throwing his head back and crying out anyway,
especially when Derek doesn't give him any time to adjust like he would if he
were in his right mind. Instead, the alpha sets up a brutal pace right off the
bat, pounding into his poor underprepared ass without remorse.
Derek growls and grunts loudly with every snap of his hips, his claws cutting
into pale skin and leaving bright trails of red behind in their wake.
While Stiles may have confessed in the past to enjoying things on the rough
side every now and then, this is nothing like that. It's animalistic in the
worst way, especially because he doesn't think Derek is even aware of what's
happening, and if he is, he can't do anything about it. Stiles scrabbles at the
floor, almost tearing out the carpet as he grits his teeth and whimpers through
the pain. He doesn't want to put his hands on Derek and hold on to him instead,
afraid that any contact like that will only make the alpha's movements rougher.
Eventually, Stiles feels Derek's cock begin to get bigger, his knot forming and
expanding at the base. The alpha's thrusts falter but don't stop as he pushes
the growing bulb of flesh unrelentingly through the tight ring of the teen's
hole. Any resistance Derek finds only seems to make him push forward harder.
Stiles almost whites out when, at the same time his wolf snaps his hips one
last time and sheathes himself completely, the knot reaching its full size, he
feels claws and fangs all sink deep into his sides and shoulder. He can't
prevent himself from screaming and trying to get away from it all, overwhelmed
and wanting it to end. As his insides are pumped full, he gets his wish, his
vision going black around the edges before he loses consciousness.
                                     * * *
When Stiles comes to sometime later, the sun has gone down and Derek is nowhere
to be found.
***** Forgiveness *****
Stiles whimpers when he tries to move. His whole body protests it, and when he
looks down to survey the damage, he can understand why. Several cuts run down
the inside of his forearms, though Derek's claws thankfully didn't go very deep
there. Unfortunately, he cannot say the same about his torso. It's much worse
off, with long gashes running down both of his sides that still sluggishly
bleed red onto the carpet beneath him. "Derek?!" he calls out hoarsely, his
heart sinking when all the answer he gets is silence. His ass twinges painfully
when he rolls onto his stomach, but he tries to breathe though it as he pushes
himself up onto his knees and stands on shaky feet. His head spins, he guesses
because of the blood loss, so he has to hold a hand out along the wall as he
makes his way into the bathroom. The trail of red he leaves along the paint
goes unnoticed.
The overhead light is blinding when he flips it on, so he stumbles blindly over
to the sink and leans his hands on the rim while he waits for his eyes to
adjust. Once they do, he stares dazedly at himself in the mirror.
He can't believe what just happened.
Never did he think he'd be put in a position like that, least of all with his
beloved Derek. He knows he'll probably be more upset about everything later,
but his emotions feel muted, like they're far away or they belong to someone
else. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he's just in shock, but he
pays it no attention.
Almost as if he's running on autopilot, Stiles retrieves the first aid kit he
stores in the cupboard under the sink, pushing through the pain when he
crouches down and all his wounds throb brightly. Standing straight again with
clenched teeth, he flips open the box and gets more blood everywhere as he
searches through everything kept within, looking for disinfectant, gauze and
medical tape. He begins patching himself up as best he can without really
watching what he's doing, and when he finishes cleaning the last gash that runs
along the ribs of his right side, he pauses and turns to stare through the door
into the bedroom when he hears what sounds like an engine approaching from far
off in the distance. As far as he knew, the pack had no plans to visit the
house that day, but he guesses it's not that unusual for them to make an
appearance regardless of the fact.
When the sound of the front door opening echoes up the stairs, Stiles stands
stock-still and prays that whoever it is doesn't come up looking for him. He
hopes they'll come to the conclusion that no one's there and go back to their
own home. His luck is still on the sour side, though, as he finds out a minute
later.
Stepping into the foyer, Isaac frowns when he scents something odd in the air.
It's not close by, so it's not very strong and it takes him several seconds to
identify it.
All the warning Stiles gets before his bedroom door is kicked in roughly is the
sound of thundering footsteps coming up the stairs. When Isaac steps into view
and freezes where he stands a few feet away, he holds his breath and the other
boy's shocked eyes, waiting to see what the beta's reaction will be. The fact
that he's still naked doesn't even enter his mind. When it looks like Isaac is
just going to stand there gaping at him, Stiles turns back to the mirror and
continues taking care of his injuries. He picks up a long strip of gauze and
gets halfway through taping it over one of the long gashes on his side when an
unexpected hand closes around his own, halting his movements. In his head, he
curses the silent footsteps of his lycanthropic friend.
"Stiles... What the hell happened...?" Isaac enquires gently. He keeps his
voice quiet, his experience with his deceased father giving him the ability to
easily recognise the look Stiles has in his eyes.
He used to see it all the time in his own.
Isaac tries to keep his eyes up so he doesn't accidentally get a look at
something he shouldn't, but he can't help himself when Stiles takes his hand
back and turns away from him a little more to stick down some of the tape on
his side more firmly. The entirety of the other boy's back looks red and
irritated, like he has a rash or something similar. Stepping forward, a closer
inspection makes him realise what it really is—a severe case of carpet burn.
Coupled with the small patch of blood and other bodily fluids he can see
smeared just below Stiles' ass, this clues him in to what the human teen must
have suffered through before he arrived. The other boy stinks to high heaven,
and it's a real struggle to keep back all the questions he wants to ask, like
how it happened, who caused it, and where Derek has gone. The thought of the
answers he might get would be enough to scare him into keeping his mouth closed
anyway, but it's the fact that Stiles doesn't appear in the right mindset to
offer any yet that actually stops him from asking for them. He can wait.
"It wasn't his fault..." is all the reply Stiles offers before going silent
again. He's stopped from continuing the somewhat shoddy treatment his injuries
when Isaac gently takes the roll of tape from him.
The beta lays it down on the countertop next to the gauze before pulling Stiles
out of the bathroom. "That's not going to be enough, I don't think... You're
gonna need stitches for some of these cuts," Isaac points out, wincing in
sympathy when looks over them all again.
Stopping quickly next to the dresser, he pulls a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms
from one of the drawers and hands them off to Stiles to put on. He sighs and
keeps his eyes averted when he has to crouch down low to help the human teen
step into them. "We should get Melissa over here so she can check you over
properly. I think she can do the stitches herself, and she'll probably give you
something for the pain and make sure nothing gets infected or something as
well..." With that, he wraps a careful arm around Stiles' shoulders and forces
the other boy to join him downstairs. When they get into the living room, he
takes his phone out from his jeans pocket and taps the screen a couple of times
to bring up Melissa McCall's number before holding it up to his ear.
As much as he knows Isaac is right, Stiles isn't really looking forward to
having the woman see him in such a state. He knows she'll make him tell her
what happened, and he really doesn't feeling like getting into it just yet,
especially not with her. Still, he settles on the sofa when Isaac pushes him
down onto it and decides to accept his fate, hiding his wince when his ass
twinges painfully again.
Maybe if he whips out his best puppy eyes, he can get Melissa to go easy on
him. He won't have to look far inside himself to find the sadness he'll need.
It's not long before there's a knock at the door and Isaac goes to answer it,
which leaves Stiles alone in the living room. The human teen hears hushed
talking coming from the foyer, and he guesses this is just Isaac explaining the
current situation to Melissa; he hopes the other boy isn't going into too much
detail. After about a minute, the talking cuts off and three sets of footsteps
approach. Confused, Stiles turns to look over the back of the sofa and gets a
surprise when he sees Scott approaching behind his mother. In hindsight, he
supposes he should've known—if the situation were reversed, he would definitely
want to be there for his best friend as well.
"Hey, Stiles, honey," Melissa greets gently, dressed in her scrubs with a
medical kit slung over her shoulder. It's the same one she used to clean Stiles
up at the sheriff's station right after his dad's death. "How are you feeling?"
"Honestly? I don't really know," Stiles replies quietly, keeping his eyes on
Melissa as she walks around the sofa and kneels down in front of him.
The way she's talking to him as if he's a trauma victim annoys him a little,
but he doesn't comment on it, especially not when a quick reassessment of the
situation ends with him admitting to himself that he basically is one. He
watches as she places her bag on the coffee table before unzipping it and
pulling out the tools she'll need to check him over properly. When he sees the
curved needle used for administering sutures, he shies away from it, wiggling
nervously in place and grimacing prematurely. He can already anticipate how
unpleasant that experience will be. His attention is torn away from Melissa
when Scott takes the seat right next to him, and he prepares himself for the
onslaught of questions he guesses are coming. He's grateful when they never do,
though, the beta apparently using his senses for once and cottoning on to the
fact that he has none to give and most likely won't until the next day at the
very least.
Nodding understandingly, Melissa puts on a pair of disposable rubber gloves and
shuffles closer to Stiles, pushing him back to lean against the cushions so she
can get a better look. She keeps her touches brief as she examines the gashes
on his torso with a critical eye, assessing the damage and running through the
necessary treatments in her head. "You're actually quite lucky," she offers
eventually, breaking the silence that has fallen over the room.
Grabbing a disinfectant wipe, she begins running it gently down all of the cuts
to make sure they're actually clean before she does anything else.
"Oh, really?" Stiles replies sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling.
Even though he's aware that Melissa still doesn't have the full story and that
she's most likely just pointing out the fact that he could've been hurt much
worse, he still responds negatively to her words. He doesn't consider anything
about the situation 'lucky' in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact.
Getting mauled by your feral lover is obviously something he's not happy about,
especially when he doesn't even know how Derek is taking it all, whether he's
off beating himself up or doing something stupid because of it.
"Yes, really," Melissa replies, choosing to ignore Stiles' tone. "I can treat
you here without having to take you to a hospital. That would just lead to
questions I'm sure you don't want to answer, so small miracles I suppose." It's
tricky to know how to act. She's torn between her professionalism and her
motherly instincts, one half of her wanting to just do her job efficiently and
the other wanting to coddle Stiles like a little boy. In the end, she lets the
professional half take control, guessing that Stiles will get the support he
should need from Scott and Isaac. Gathering all of her suturing equipment, she
waits for Isaac to get into position on Stiles' other side before beginning.
The first stitch is the hardest to do, the want to stop almost taking over as
soon as she hears Stiles' resulting hiss of pain, but she pushes past it,
knowing that getting it all done quickly will be best.
Stiles grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut for the first few seconds
until he feels the sting of the needle suddenly disappear. Cracking open an
eye, he glances to the side and feels a surge of gratitude when he sees black
veins crawling up Scott and Isaac's arms.
"Almost finished..." Melissa assures several long minutes later, tying off the
last stitch and cutting the excess thread off. The last step is to cover it
with a bandage. "There. All set."
"Thanks," Stiles breathes once the last piece of tape has been stuck down,
nodding his permission for Scott and Isaac to cease siphoning off his pain. He
gets a small rush of it when their hands and his skin lose contact, but it's
quick to pass and fade into something more manageable. Feeling a bit parched,
he sends Scott off the kitchen to get him a glass of water, drinking it down as
soon as the beta returns and places it in his hand.
Packing away most of her kit again, Melissa notices the way Stiles is holding
himself as still as possible, his movements slow so he doesn't disturb his
wounds or pull his stitches. Knowing that regular over-the-counter medication
won't do the trick, she searches through the bottom of her bag and pulls out a
small bottle of morphine and a new syringe. "It's getting pretty late, so I'm
going to give you a shot of this to help with the pain, and then I want you to
go right up to bed and get some rest, OK?" she informs Stiles, filling the
syringe and tapping the end against the bottle to make sure it's functioning
properly. Finding a vein quickly when Stiles holds out his arm, she inserts the
needle and pushes down on the plunger. Once she's injected what she guesses
will be enough, she tapes a small cotton ball over the tiny bleeding mark left
behind and raises her eyes to the ceiling pointedly. "Right, up you go."
The morphine quickly exacerbating his rapidly depleting energy levels, Stiles
is quick to follow the woman's instruction without argument, leaning into
Isaac's side when the beta offers to help him up the stairs.
He ruffles the tall beta's hair when he's deposited gently on the bed. "Good
boy..." he mumbles sleepily, snuggling back into the pillows and forgetting in
his morphine haze that someone crucial is missing next to him. The last thing
he registers before succumbing to unconsciousness is the light being turned off
and the soft click of the door as Isaac closes it behind himself.
                                     * * *
- Tuesday, September 4th, 2012 -
As Melissa suggested, Stiles stays home from school the next day to give his
stitches a proper chance to work their magic, with Isaac, Erica and,
surprisingly, Boyd joining him. He tried to wave off their concerns and make
them attend their lessons, but none of them listened and he didn't have the
heart to force them with an alpha-mate order. Everybody else goes as if
everything's normal and Stiles' life isn't completely falling apart before
their eyes. The whole pack ditching on the same day would bring them all
unwanted attention anyway, and four already looks suspicious enough as it is.
Instead of just sitting at home, letting the three betas take care of his every
want and need, because Derek still hasn't come back yet, Stiles suggests they
go and look for the alpha themselves.
Because the morphine has now left his system and he doesn't want to ask Melissa
for more, he can't move without causing himself pain. Because of this, he
basically becomes a base of operations in his and Derek's house while the three
betas search elsewhere.
Stiles texts them constantly with new ideas he has about where his mate might
have run off to. The man's black Camaro still sits right next to his blue one
outside, and that immediately tells them all that wherever their alpha has
gone, he went there on foot. Derek's shoes are still in their place inside the
front door, and the fact that the man rushed from the house without putting
them on gives Stiles some insight into how distraught he must've been in that
moment. He doesn't blame Derek, especially not since he has fairly recent
experience with being made to do something against his will and the guilt that
comes with that.
He really wouldn't put it past the man to not have been thinking at all. He
knows Derek would've just wanted to get away—the method probably didn't matter
in the slightest.
Derek's scent trail is easy enough to find, made more pungent than normal
because it's contaminated with blood, shame and just about every other negative
emotion under the sun. The only problem is that it leads far outside of Beacon
Hills, to a place where the ground is damp with fresh rain. This basically puts
an end to the trail, so Erica, Isaac and Boyd return to Stiles with their tails
between their legs, disheartened.
It's about an hour before school should let out that there comes a knock at the
door.
Since Isaac is busy looking over the claw marks on his sides, checking to make
sure he hasn't popped any of his stitches and that there isn't an infection
setting in anywhere, Stiles looks pleadingly at Erica and smiles gratefully at
the blonde beta when she graciously goes to see just who their unexpected guest
is. Still, he manages to crane his head around and look over the back of the
sofa to try and get a look at them himself without disturbing Isaac's work. He
hears Erica open the door, followed by some quiet talking, but he frowns when
he finds he can't make out any of the words. A few seconds later, Erica comes
back through into the large archway with a guilty look on her face.
Stiles wonders why briefly before their guest follows her into the room a
couple of seconds later. He doesn't have time to push Isaac away and cover
himself up before Jordan Parrish gets a look at him.
Coming a halt when he gets halfway around the sofa, Parrish's eyes are wide
with shock as he stares at the long lines of black stitches that run down
either side of Stiles' torso. The whole room seems to go still along with the
man, and no one else moves an inch until he takes a couple of aborted steps
closer and falls down in the seat next to the scared-looking boy. "Stiles...
Who did this to you...?" he enquires breathlessly, rage building in his gut at
the idea that someone would dare touch and harm the human teen, who he
considers a good friend, in such a way.
Parting his lips in preparation to spout off some hastily thought out excuse to
appease Parrish's concerns, Stiles doesn't even get the first word out before
the man interrupts him. He forgets to close his mouth again when he hears the
next series of questions Parrish asks him in a rush.
"Did Derek do this? Is he hurting you? God, why didn't you come to me sooner?!
I'm gonna make sure he fries for this, mark my words... He's not gonna get away
with it!" Parrish exclaims, leaping up from his seat again and pulling Stiles
up with him. "C'mon; I'm taking you out of here before he can lay another
finger on you." He doesn't know why the teen struggles against his hold when he
tries to pull him through to the foyer and out the front door, away from his
abuser. His confusion about the whole situation only increases when he gets a
look at the disapproving expressions on Isaac, Boyd and Erica's faces and at
the amusement he sees forming on Stiles'. He frowns when Isaac moves forward
and wrenches Stiles out of his grip. "What's wrong with you three? Don't tell
me you actually want him to stay here after what Derek's done..."
Allowing himself one small chuckle, Stiles dutifully sits back in his place on
the sofa while Isaac checks him over again. He knows it would be pointless to
try to stop him; the beta won't be satisfied until he sees that his stitches
are all still intact with his own eyes. Turning back to Parrish, his expression
softens when he sees how befuddled the man looks by his refusal.
"Why don't you have a seat? We've got a lot to talk about, it seems..." Stiles
sighs, settling in for what he knows will be a long and tiring conversation.
Hesitantly, Parrish complies, skirting back around the sofa while keeping his
distance from Erica, who looks one wrong move away from actually attacking him.
The fact that Boyd has a hand resting on the girl's shoulder seems to be the
only thing actually holding her back for the time being.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles locks eyes with Isaac when the beta pulls away,
his inspection finally finished. He holds up a hand and curls his fingers like
claws to intimate his plan to the curly-haired beta, smiling gratefully at him
when he nods. "Right... What I'm gonna say next is going to sound crazy and
it's probably gonna make you worry about me even more," he starts off, shifting
in place with nervous energy when he notices how focused on him Parrish appears
to be. "I guess I should just come out and say it... Werewolves are real." He
bites on his bottom lip when the deputy just continues looking at him blankly,
like he's waiting for the punchline of a joke. As he thought, when he doesn't
give one, Parrish looks a little scared for his sanity.
Wordlessly, Stiles gestures for Isaac to take over.
Waiting until Parrish's gaze flicks over to his face, Isaac taps into the wolf
at his core and lets his face shift into its beta form. He bares his fangs and
flashes his eyes.
Parrish screams in surprise and flails backward off of the sofa, landing with a
thud on the floor as he reaches for the firearm strapped to his waist. He
doesn't get further than raising the gun a few inches into the air before he
hears a growl coming from his right and the weapon is knocked from his hand. He
stares in terror up at Erica's snarling face, flinching when one of her long
blonde curls comes loose from her ponytail and brushes against his cheek.
"Erica!" Stiles yells, his tone dripping with his alpha-mate authority. "That's
enough!" He glares the girl into submission before ordering her to go with Boyd
into the kitchen to calm down. When the couple are gone—the annoyed expression
on Erica's face tells Stiles that he'll have to do some grovelling later when
Parrish is gone if he wants to make it up to her—he returns his attention to
the deputy, offering a hand to help him up again. He waits until Parrish puts
his gun back in its holster before continuing. "Now, where were we? Ah,
yes...werewolves. As you've just seen, they're very real." He goes on to
explain all of the basics, about the pack and its hierarchy, his place by
Derek's side and a brief overview of everything that's happened over the past
year and a half since it all started. He pats Parrish on the knee when the man
just stares at him, feeling a little bad about being the one to make him aware
of his ignorance.
It's sadly a necessity, though, because he simply can't let the well-meaning
deputy walk away with such terrible misconceptions about his mate.
Parrish remains silent through the entirely of Stiles' explanation, struggling
to comprehend everything he's being told. If he's honest with himself, when he
thinks back to all the strange things he's seen in the news and while working
his shifts down at the station, all the pieces seem to fit together and make
sense.
In the end, when they move on to discuss things in more depth, Stiles lays out
several pieces of paper on the coffee table and writes it all down. It becomes
something of a timeline, detailing all of the events that lead up to that
moment, and Parrish is understandably shocked when he's told of what really
happened to the late sheriff all those months ago. "So Derek's uncle Landon is
the one who killed your dad? And then you killed him? This is crazy!" he rants,
pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He feels a little betrayed
about being kept in the dark about that particular part for so long, but after
thinking it over for a minute, he supposes he understands why. It is an awfully
big secret, and he's seen enough science fiction movies to know that
supernatural creatures becoming known to the general populous never works out
well.
Still, he never for a second thought it would be a situation he'd face in real
life.
"Basically, yes," Stiles replies, popping the cap back on the pen he was using
and leaning back into the sofa cushions. His stitches have started to get a
little sore from his being curled forward for so long, and he sighs in relief
when the pain begins ebbing off again.
"So what's happening now? You still haven't given me another explanation about
who did that to you," Parrish points out, his eyes flicking pointedly between
Stiles' sides.
Averting his eyes, Stiles swallows tightly and finally picks his shirt up again
to put back on. He doesn't want any more staring. "I was hoping you'd forgotten
about that part..." he chuckles darkly, thankful that Isaac has stuck around
the entire time to provide moral support. He knows that Parrish is a good
person, and he's taking having his world turned on its head surprisingly well,
but discussing his personal life with the older man still makes him
uncomfortable. There's also the small worry in the back of his mind that
Parrish will still blame Derek after he finds out the truth. Erica and Boyd pop
their heads through from the kitchen before he can open his mouth again,
wanting to be around, too. He lets them under the condition that the blonde
keeps it together from then on.
Once everyone is gathered on the sofas again, Boyd and Erica at his sides,
Isaac sat between his legs, and Parrish in one of the armchairs, Stiles looks
back at the deputy. "We're still not really sure what's going on, but I think
there's someone new in town messing with us," he explains.
When Parrish's eyes flick down to Stiles' hand, he realises that he's begun
absentmindedly running his fingers through Isaac's hair, much to the beta's
pleasure. "Pack thing," he dismisses, his cheeks heating up even though he
tries to keep his tone casual. "Anyway...this person's been casting spells or
putting curses on us all one at a time. It's supposed to tap into a person's
fears and manifest them in fucked up ways. Erica and Isaac were the first to be
affected, and yesterday, Derek was, too. I know him well enough by now to know
that one of his biggest fears is hurting the people he loves, and I took the
brunt of it. It wasn't his fault."
"Where is he now...?" Parrish asks nervously, glancing up at the ceiling like
he thinks his presence is causing the man in question to hide away up there,
scared of arrest.
"That's what we were trying to work out before you showed up; I have no clue
where he's gone. All I know is that he took off after it happened, probably
blaming himself and thinking that I hate him now..." Stiles replies, sighing
tiredly. As much as he loves him, his mate's tendency to blame himself for
everything does get a little tiring every now and then. "Now that we're on the
subject, why are you here?" He realises how rude his question could sound and
hastens to expand on it.
"Not that I'm not happy to see you, because I am—it's been too long, really.
I'm just curious..."
Parrish is glad that the conversation is shifting into something more normal;
he finds it much easier to deal with. "I missed seeing you down at the station,
and after I ran into Derek last week, I thought I'd come see how you were
doing," he explains, shrugging.
"I'm flattered," Stiles chuckles, wincing when the gentle shaking of his body
causes his injuries to make themselves known again. He quickly calms himself
down to avoid more of it. "Well, you're always welcome to stop by, I suppose. I
know I'd be happy to see some more of you, and though I think Derek'll be a
little miffed that I let you in on our furry little secret without his input,
I'm sure he'll deal when I explain to him why it was necessary. Who knows—maybe
this'll actually make things easier. I'm sure there'll be more supernatural
shit happening in this town for years to come, and it'll probably be helpful to
have someone who's part of the law in the know. That position used to be filled
by my dad, but...you know. Just don't tell anyone else, OK? This is all
dangerous enough without more people knowing, and if they did, they'd be in
danger, too."
"I promise," Parrish replies, nodding.
                                     * * *
"Where did Stiles say it happened again?" Allison asks as she gets into the
back of Lydia's car. School has just let out for the day, and she, Lydia and
Scott have plans to check out the site of the most recent attack to see if they
can find any clues.
"Somewhere in the preserve, just a few minutes from the house, I think," Lydia
answers readily, easily remembering everything Stiles said the previous
evening. There's still the tiniest bit of anger bubbling just beneath the
surface of her carefully held veneer, caused by Jackson's refusal to join the
trio on their quest. It was another moment during which she wondered why she
loves the irritating and stubborn beta, especially given that he still
maintains his old selfish attitude. The day felt strange with some members
missing from their little pack, but even so, she went about it like it was any
other, wanting to keep up appearances. Since she and Stiles usually share all
of their classes that day, she made two copies of all of her notes just so he
doesn't end up falling behind. Even though she did it purely out of the
goodness of her heart, she thinks that if the boy decides he wants to repay her
for her tireless efforts, she won't be saying 'no'.
Leaving his bike in the lot to pick up later, Scott gets in the backseat of
Lydia's car next to Allison and straps himself in. "I still can't believe that
happened..." he mumbles, rubbing absently at his chest. There's been a constant
ache there ever since the previous evening, presumably because of his strong
connection to Stiles.
"Yeah, well...let's not get into that again just now," Lydia suggests as she
presses her foot down on the pedal, effectively putting an end to the
conversation.
It only takes a few minutes for the trio to come to a stop next to the
outskirts of the preserve, the redhead locking her car up after everyone gets
out. They stick close together as they trek through the trees, just in case
whoever attacked Stiles and Derek decides to come back for another go. Scott
uses his nose to guide the way, picking up on the faint scent of magic almost
immediately and following it. He remembers overhearing a conversation between
Stiles and Deaton not too long ago—the vet was explaining how magic smells
different from person to person, like a signature that will tell curious noses
just who cast what. Because the scent he's tracking now is nothing like what
he's picked up whenever he's been witness to Stiles performing magic, he
assumes it must belong to the stranger who has decided to wreak havoc on their
lives and cause them all trouble.
The smell stays faint for a long time before suddenly increasing in potency.
Scott picks up his pace as it gets stronger and stronger, not stopping until
the trees part into a clearing. He sees evidence of a fight everywhere he
looks, from the disturbed dirt on the ground to the scorch mark on one of the
opposite trees. "I guess this is the place," he says needlessly as Allison and
Lydia catch up to him.
"Looks like it," Allison concurs, holding her arms out to balance herself as he
makes her way down the steep slope leading to the bottom of the clearing.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Scott asks, choosing to stay at the top of
the incline and keep watch. Something catches his eye on the ground, and when
he crouches down to get a better look, he finds a small puddle of clear,
viscous fluid that somehow still looks fresh. Smaller droplets of the stuff are
scattered around the puddle, like it splattered off of whatever it impacted on.
Assuming it's left over from the previous afternoon's attack, Scott finds it
odd that it hasn't even started drying. When he sticks a curious finger into
it, he recoils in shock when the tip of the digit instantly starts burning.
"Ouch! I think this is what was thrown at Derek... That shit hurts!" He holds
his finger close to his chest as if he's shielding something precious from
harm.
Rolling her eyes, Lydia joins Allison at the bottom of the clearing. "Of course
it does, you idiot... It practically burned all the skin on Derek's hands
off..." she reminds him. "And to answer your question, we're looking for any
clues that'll reveal who this mysterious new villain is."
Nodding his understanding, Scott checks his finger again and feels relief when
he sees the skin is no longer red and irritated. He keeps a wide berth from the
clear fluid from then on.
Kneeling down on the ground, Allison looks over the scuff marks in the dirt and
picks out what she thinks is a complete footprint. Putting her own foot next to
it, she deduces that the print is only a size or two larger than her shoe. This
leads her to the conclusion that their new enemy is most likely female, though
she guesses they could still be a man with smaller than average feet. She's
brought out of her musing when Lydia calls out to her and Scott, and she
quickly stands again to make her way over to the redhead to see what other clue
has been found.
"Look at this!" Lydia says excitedly as she reaches for something hidden
between two tree roots, her fingers latching onto a thin chain. After some
gentle tugging to unstick it, she pulls the object out and lays it on her palm
for Scott and Allison to see.
Derek's original triskelion necklace glints up at them in the sunlight.
A frown appears on all of their faces when they see that it's damaged, mostly
likely beyond repair, with half of the pendant melted and twisted at a strange
angle and the ruby gone entirely. "I guess this is how they're casting their
spells on us," Lydia theorises, turning the necklace over in her hands. "One of
you should text the others and ask if they've noticed anything going missing
recently. I think I read somewhere that spells like this are stronger if they
use something of great sentimental value, so they should check everything like
that first." On the third rotation, she notices something tangled in the small
ring through which the chain and the pendant are connected. It's a blonde hair,
long and slightly greasy. Grimacing as she extricates it, she wonders whether
it belonged to their mystery attacker and if it can be used in a locator spell
or something—she guesses there's no harm in trying.
With that, she tucks the necklace and the hair into one of her skirt pockets
for safekeeping, planning on returning the former to Derek whenever he finally
reappears and bringing the latter up with Stiles after he and his mate are
reunited. She hopes they both happen soon. Following one last sweep of the
area, she calls their investigation to an end.
Scott once again leads the two girls on the way back to Lydia's car.
"I'm going to check over all my possessions very closely when I get home, and I
suggest the two of you do the same," the banshee instructs when her vehicle
comes back into view and she opens the driver's-side door. Sliding behind the
wheel, she checks her hair in the mirror before sticking the keys in the
ignition and reversing back out onto the road.
                                     * * *
Parrish departs for the station a little while later, following a promise that
he'll come back for dinner one night once the current threat has passed and
everything has settled down again. Much to Stiles' dismay, Erica, Isaac and
Boyd also leave shortly after the deputy, spouting off apologies and excuses
that their parents and Melissa want them home earlier that usual because they
skipped school that day. This leaves Stiles alone in the house with his
thoughts, a dangerous turn of events given the true state of his mind. To pass
the time, he goes upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom and tries to clean his
blood out of their carpet. He can't work at it as hard as he would like because
of his injuries—Melissa can be incredibly intimidating, so he doesn't want her
getting mad at him should he pull his stitches—but it doesn't really matter. No
amount of scrubbing could get rid of the two rather sizeable red patches on the
otherwise cream-coloured carpet.
Reaching the conclusion that he'll just have to take the whole thing up when
he's feeling better, he prays that his recovery his fast; he doesn't want the
reminder to still be there when Derek returns.
Giving up on his cleaning, Stiles switches off the light and grabs one of
Derek's sweaters before tucking himself and it into bed to watch brainless
television. He holds the sweater up to his nose and breathes in Derek's scent,
hoping he'll be able to trick himself into not feeling the man's absence as
deeply. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, and every second that Derek isn't there
with him, his mind races with endless possibilities, each one worse than the
last.
Will he ever see Derek again? Is he out there somewhere, hurting himself out of
guilt? What will things be like if he does come back?
Wiping angrily at his eyes when a tear slips out and trails down his cheek,
Stiles wants to slap himself for getting so worked up. Because he hid how much
emotional pain he was really in from the betas all day, there's not much he can
do to stop his anguish now that he's finally beginning to let it out.
He finds himself curled up on his side, desperately trying to keep quiet as he
sobs into Derek's sweater, the television going forgotten and turning into
nothing but white noise. Each new sob that claws its way out of his throat
jerks his body and sends new waves of pain through him, his stitches
threatening to pull and break. Eventually, his cries get quieter until they
stop completely. He just lies there beneath the blankets as the occasional tear
runs unbidden down onto the pillow beneath his head. His nose is still buried
into the soft fabric of Derek's sweater and his eyes are blank as he stares at
the opposite wall, the bed feeling cold and unwelcoming without his mate's warm
body pressed up behind him, keeping him toasty and comfortable.
The rest of the night passes by at a snail's pace, the numbers on the clock on
the nightstand changing slowly like they're taunting him.
                                     * * *
Like she said she would do, as soon as Lydia drops Allison and Scott off at the
latter's house—the heated looks they gave each other as they got out of her car
left absolutely no doubt in her mind as to what they would be doing as soon as
they were left to their own devices, especially not when she spied Kira waiting
for them on the doorstep—she begins sorting through all of her possessions,
looking for anything missing or out of place. She stops off at the school first
to check her locker, glad that it's staying open late that day because of a
chess club meeting. When she passes the quiet room in which it's taking place,
she stops briefly to look through the little window in the door, shaking her
head when she sees pairs of stereotypically nerdy boys spread out across the
desks, divided up into their own games. Scores are written up on the
blackboard, so she guesses they must be participating in some sort of
tournament.
"I'll never get it..." Lydia mumbles to herself as she continues on her
mission, rounding the corner to the corridor in which her locker resides. Even
though she considers herself something of an expert in the game, so much so
that she could probably best each one of the club's members without blinking,
she doesn't find enough enjoyment in it to understand spending week after week
obsessing over it. Still, she guesses it's just another case of 'different
strokes for different folks', as the saying goes.
Finally reaching her locker, she enters the combination easily before opening
it and running a careful eye over everything kept within.
She doesn't really expect anything to be different than the last time she saw
it—it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that whoever is
terrorising them all has already collected what they need from everybody—but
she doesn't see the harm in checking just to be sure.
A five-minute search proves her theory to be correct, and it's not much longer
before she's closing the door and leaving again, with the intent to turn her
entire bedroom upside down. She checks her hair and makeup in her car's
rearview mirror before peeling out of the parking lot, keeping one hand on the
steering wheel as she palms Derek's ruined triskelion necklace through her
skirt pocket with the other. She contemplates the implications of the find
again, wondering how it came be in the state in which she found it and why it
was left where it was.
It doesn't make any sense.
When she pulls her car to a stop outside of her house and opens the driver's-
side door, Lydia pauses before shutting it again when she feels an itch at the
base of her skull, like someone's watching her. She whips her head from side to
side to see if she can spot anyone, but the area appears completely deserted.
It reminds her unnervingly of the similar incident that took place almost a
full month previous, right after she finished watching a movie with some
packmates.
The thought creeping her out more than she would care to admit, she scurries
inside her house, not wanting to be out in the open by herself any longer. She
makes sure to lock the door behind herself before heading straight up the
stairs to her bedroom and tossing her bag down on top of the sheets of her bed.
A shiver runs through her body when she realises how cold it is, and when she
glances over at the window, she finds out why. It's wide open, the curtains
blowing wildly as frigid air filters through it. Rushing over, she slams it
shut, frowning when she thinks back to earlier that morning. It's not a good
sign that she doesn't remember leaving it open.
                                     * * *
- Monday, September 17th, 2012 -
Derek doesn't return until almost two full weeks have crawled slowly past.
Stiles spends that time walking through his life like a zombie, putting the
least amount of effort into everything because he just can't find the energy or
motivation to do more. His mind is elsewhere. Everybody at school stares at him
constantly, and he can't blame them. He knows how much of a mess he looks,
putting no thought into his appearance whatsoever after each sunrise comes and
his mate still isn't in bed next to him. The only saving grace is that his
long-sleeved flannel overshirts hide the claw marks on his arms and sides from
prying eyes. The entire time, Lydia tries to pick up the slack when it comes to
his school work, doing all of his assignments for him so he doesn't get into
too much trouble with his teachers, but even her generosity and amazing
intellect can only stretch so far.
Stiles supposes his rapidly deteriorating mental state is made worse by his and
Derek's mating bond. He would feel terrible about what happened anyway, but
when the alpha's emotions are added on top of his own, it's enough to make his
chest literally ache each second he's awake. Sleep is hard to come by, so he
feels it nearly all the time. He can tell that the pack, Charlie and even his
teachers are worried about him, but he can't find it in himself to care.
He just ignores any worried glances and answers all questions about his
wellbeing with monotonous repetitions of, "I'm fine," that ease no one's
concern.
When Stiles gets home from school, he tosses his backpack over the back of the
living room sofa and walks through to the kitchen to get himself a drink of
water—the fact that he hasn't had anything to eat or drink since he woke up
that morning has left his throat feeling particularly dry. Because his stomach
wouldn't be able to keep it down anyway, he didn't see the point in trying
until, as he was leaving for the day, Erica stormed over to him in the school
parking lot and slapped him across the face. The words that followed were what
made him rethink his earlier decision, and they play back through his mind as
he gulps down the ice-cold liquid:
"You listen and you listen good, Stiles Stilinski! It's bad enough that Derek's
off somewhere wallowing in his man-pain and leaving us to deal with the
fallout, but I swear to God, Stiles, if you don't snap the fuck out of this
right now and actually start taking care of yourself, then I'm gonna kill you
myself!"
By this point, the loudness of Erica's voice had drawn quite a crowd, every one
of the other students in the surrounding area curious to see what the commotion
was about.
"Even that would be better than watching you waste away like this again. I
can't go through that a second time, and even though no one else has the guts
to say it, I know they can't either. Derek'll come back whenever he manages to
get his head out of his ass, and don't you think it would be good if he came
back to a mate that isn't a total wreck? The sight of you like this is just
going to send him spiralling over the edge, too, and then this pack will be
down an alpha and an alpha's mate. Things better be different when I see you
tomorrow, Stiles... At the very least, I actually want to see you eat
something."
Those were the last words spoken, and Stiles was in too much shock to even make
an attempt at replying. Erica had then pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing
hug before scurrying away to rejoin Boyd and Isaac on the other side of the
lot, wiping hastily at her eyes as she went.
He'll have to give Erica a proper thank you the next time he sees her, because
that was the wakeup call he sorely needed.
Even if he's not doing it for himself, he knows the blonde beta was right.
Derek will need someone to lean on whenever he reappears, someone to tell him
there wasn't anything he could have done and to assure him that nobody lays the
blame for what happened on him. Stiles will be that person. He's determined not
to let this break them, so once all the water is drained from the fresh bottle
still in his hand, he throws it carelessly in the direction of the recycling
bin before grabbing some leftover Chinese food from the fridge and forcing it
down his throat. Someone from the pack has been in the house with him at all
times—even Jackson, though Stiles suspects Lydia played a hand in that one—and
he's glad for it now since it means he actually has something to eat. He's been
seriously slacking in his duties for the past couple of weeks, leaving the
cupboards and pantry nearly bare.
It's when Stiles is halfway through making a mental list of the essentials
he'll need to stock back up on that he hears the front door open. Assuming that
it's just another of the betas coming to check on him, he gets a big surprise
when he walks into the foyer and sees who's really standing at the bottom of
the stairs. "Derek...?" he croaks, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide.
The alpha in front of him looks absolutely terrible, like a shadow of his
former self. The clothes he must have quickly put on before fleeing the house
are torn up and caked in dirt.
When it doesn't seem like Derek even heard him—the man remains frozen in place,
staring down at the floor without so much as a twitch—Stiles hesitantly closes
the distance between them and reaches out to touch his wolf's shoulder with a
shaking hand. He wants to put up a brave face, but the fear that Derek may not
be over whatever it was that caused him to attack the last time is right in the
forefront of his mind, making him overly cautious. When their skin touches, he
doesn't know whether to be relieved or not when his mate still doesn't react.
The fact that his head is still attached is a plus, he supposes. "Der?" he asks
again, his voice stronger this time.
Skin-to-skin contact combined with the second calling of his name seems to
finally break Derek out of his own thoughts, his head snapping up and their
eyes meeting. The tortured expression Stiles sees on the man's face makes his
chest constrict, his heart faltering.
"Let's...let's get you cleaned up, OK?" Stiles offers, walking around Derek to
head up the stairs. He doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know that his
wolf is following, as the man's footsteps are oddly loud in the otherwise
silent house. Once he gets into the bedroom, he's surprised when Derek just
continues walking right past him, straight into the bathroom. The door gets
closed in his face before he can follow. Guessing that Derek just needs some
time to gather himself and his thoughts, Stiles allows the distance. He'd be
lying if he said being around his mate again didn't make him feel a little
anxious and uncomfortable, and he hates with a passion whoever the stranger was
that they encountered in the preserve for destroying their previously easy
companionship.
Truthfully, there's a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to run,
to get out while he still has the chance. He ignores it, knowing—or hoping—that
it's irrational.
While he waits for Derek to finish up in the bathroom, Stiles busies himself
with cleaning. In his depression, he let their bedroom descend into a total
pigsty; clothes are scattered across the floor, the carpet is still stained
with his blood and other remnants from the last time they were together, and
there's even shattered glass at the bottom of one of the walls. He let his
anger at the whole situation get the better of him one night, and the glass of
water he'd carried to bed with him was his outlet.
Coming to a stop in front of their dresser, Stiles pulls open one of the
drawers and gets out a pair of Derek's sweatpants and his favourite of the
man's shirts. It's v-necked, made of incredibly soft material, and brings out
the startlingly beautiful colour of his wolf's eyes.
The bathroom door isn't locked, so he sneaks in briefly and places the clothes
on the closed toilet seat. He doesn't even glance in the direction of the
fogged-up shower, allowing Derek his privacy.
Since there's nothing he can really do about the blood-stained carpet in that
moment, Stiles just gets a large towel from the linen closet and tosses it over
the affected area like a rug. He guesses that's one of the reasons Derek
hightailed it into the bathroom, to avoid having to look at a reminder of what
happened and what he did. Stiles knows it wasn't actually Derek's fault, but he
also knows the alpha's opinion on the matter is sure to differ greatly from his
own. It's after he's smoothed out the towel and taken a seat on the bed that
the bathroom door finally opens, with Derek emerging through it a few seconds
later following a billowing of steam.
The man is dressed in the clothes Stiles picked out for him, and his posture is
rigid, his body language just screaming how uncertain he is, like he's not sure
he's welcome there any longer. The way Derek's eyes dart from the floor over to
the open bedroom door just confirms this theory. Stiles can't have that, so
before the man can make his escape, he reaches over and pulls him down next to
himself on the mattress.
Derek lets himself be moved, though he keeps a sizeable distance between them
both the entire time. He doesn't trust himself to be close to Stiles again just
yet.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles figures it's best if he just dives right into the
conversation he knows will be necessary for them to begin healing and moving on
from this rough patch. "Look at me, Derek," he begins, keeping his tone as
gentle and soothing as he can in an effort to make his wolf feel more at ease.
He shuffles a little bit closer to the man when he keeps his eyes cast down,
tilting the man's head up with a finger under his chin until he has no choice
but to obey. "Der...I know what you're thinking, and I have to start this off
by telling you that you're wrong. None of the fault for this lies with you, and
no one else in the pack thinks otherwise." This finally gets a reaction,
emotion appearing back in Derek's eyes. The disbelief the hazel orbs carry is
heartbreaking.
"How can you say that?" the alpha chokes out. His voice is tight, his words
sounding like they were ripped bloodily from his chest. "I hurt you! What I did
was unforgivable..."
Choosing his words carefully, Stiles gets braver, his surety that Derek won't
take off again growing stronger every second that passes with the man remaining
seated right next to him. He brings them closer still, their sides almost
touching, and moves his hand until his wolf's bearded cheek is cupped in his
palm. "You're right—what you did was unforgivable," he agrees, soldiering on
when Derek's eyes close with resignation and a lone tear slips free to run down
onto his hand, "because there's absolutely nothing for me to forgive."
Mindful of the injuries he has that are still healing, Stiles gets up onto his
knees and swings himself around so that he ends up perched in Derek's lap. He
tilts the alpha's head back more and rests their foreheads together before
continuing.
"The only person at fault here is whoever that asshole was in the preserve.
They're the one who did this, not you," he whispers, bumping their noses
together. The corners of his mouth turn up when he thinks he's finally getting
through to Derek, his mate's hands latching on tightly to the back of his shirt
and a shuddering breath puffing out across his lips. "The only thing I'm a
little mad about is that it took you so long to come back, but I understand if
you needed that long to work up the courage to face me again. But that's a
conversation we can have later. I know it's going to take a while for you to
really believe me since it's still in your nature to hold on to every little
piece of baggage like a sort of self-imposed punishment, but for me, nothing's
changed. I still love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. I'm
still yours and you're still mine, and it's going to stay that way until we
both die, and probably even after.
"You're my Sourwolf."
Stiles gasps in shock when Derek's arms wrap fully around him and pull their
bodies flush together. The stitches in his sides pull dangerously, but he
ignores the pain when he feels Derek shaking gently against him. He's baffled
at first, not immediately realising what's happening, but his mind catches on
quickly a few seconds later. It's like a dam breaking.
After Derek tucks his face into Stiles' neck and takes one last shuddering
breath, a series of gut-wrenching sobs tear their way out from his throat as he
releases all reins on his emotions for the first time in almost a decade.
The front of Stiles' shirt is quickly soaked through with the man's tears. All
he can do is rest his chin atop Derek's head and run his hands soothingly up
and down his back while he waits it out. He doesn't shush the alpha at all,
guessing that he needs to get everything out and release all of his emotions at
once. This outpouring has probably been held back and ignored for far too long
to be considered healthy, lying just beneath the surface, waiting. Stiles is a
little surprised that Derek is finally letting it out now, and it's a little
disconcerting to see his usually strong and stoic mate crying and sobbing
openly like he is, but he's grateful for it nevertheless. He holds on to the
man just as tightly, the constricted feeling that's been in his chest for the
past two weeks finally easing off and fading slowly with each new tear Derek
sheds.
It's only when he catches the gasped apologies beginning to fall from his
wolf's lips that Stiles tries to bring the man back down.
"Shh, it's OK, you're OK..." he coos quietly, pressing his lips to the dark
strands of Derek's hair. He removes the alpha's face from his neck and starts
peppering the tear-wet skin with more chaste kisses, paying no mind to the salt
that gets on his tongue. He places the last one directly on Derek's lips,
keeping them connected and sighing when his wolf lets him in and returns it.
The kiss goes on for several long minutes until Derek pulls away with one final
sniffle. Stiles smiles down at him kindly as he wipes the last few tears from
his cheeks. Even though his beard has grown long and wild, his face is blotchy,
and his eyes are red and puffy from crying, he still thinks Derek is most
gorgeous man he's ever met. "You feeling any better now?" he asks eventually,
after they continue to just stare into each other's eyes silently for an
indeterminate amount of time. He's glad when Derek nods a second later, looking
away as his already-coloured cheeks become even more so with embarrassment.
"C'mon. I was planning on getting something to eat before you showed up, and
I'm betting you're hungry, too."
***** Healing *****
Stiles leaves Derek to make another stop in the bathroom so he can put himself
back together.
Heading downstairs to the kitchen, he gets the rest of the leftover Chinese
food out of the fridge and piles it all onto large plate before sticking it in
the microwave. He stands and watches it spin around and around as he listens to
the faint sounds that echo through the ceiling, which turn into footsteps on
the stairs. The microwave dings to signal that the food is done right as Derek
enters the room and takes a seat around the island, and Stiles gives himself a
pat on the back for timing things so perfectly.
After placing the plate in front of Derek, complete with a fork, he sits on the
opposite side of the island and works up the courage to ask the alpha where
he's been for the past two weeks. From the state of his clothes when he
arrived, he mustn't have been taking very good care of himself. Stiles assumes
that his wolf must have sequestered himself away somewhere, deep in the woods
of a neighbouring town. The Chinese food disappears down Derek's throat at such
an alarming rate that he guesses the man didn't eat that often. The image he
creates in his head of Derek chasing after wild animals is so ridiculous that
he can't stop a small chuckle from slipping out, but he cuts it short when
Derek pauses in his eating to stare at him speculatively, a worried expression
on his face.
"It's nothing," Stiles dismisses easily, clearing his throat and leaning his
elbows on the countertop. He braces himself for the shift in mood his next
words are bound to cause. "So...where've you been?"
Swallowing tightly, Derek sets his fork back down on his plate and pushes it
away.
He doesn't want to be tempted to dig back in again until the new conversation
is over, knowing that Stiles deserves to get answers. "After what happened...I
don't really know what was going through my head," he begins, finding that he's
unable to meet Stiles' eyes. He feels unpleasantly vulnerable all of a sudden,
even though his mate is the only other person present, so he wraps his arms
around his torso protectively. "When I came back to myself, my knot had just
gone down and you were just lying there beneath me, out cold and bleeding all
over the place. My claws were all bloody, so there wasn't a doubt in my mind
that I was the one who did that to you, and I just...panicked."
When Stiles slides a hand out across the countertop, reaching for him, Derek
leans back on his stool and instantly feels bad when the teen's face falls, the
hurt undeniable. He can't let himself be comforted yet, not when there's still
so much left to talk about.
If he stops halfway through, he knows he wouldn't be able to pick it back up
later.
"I put on the first clothes I could find and ran as far as I could," he pushes
on, digging his nails into his sides to distract himself from the nearly
overwhelming sense of guilt that forms in his chest and makes his heart
stutter. "I thought you'd hate me when you woke up and I didn't want to be
around to hear what you'd say. I was several miles away by the time I stopped
running. I stayed away from the towns that were near me because I knew how I
would look to everyone. Whatever spell was put on me really messed me up for
most of the time I was gone. I don't even remember what I was doing for most of
it, but I didn't starve to death, so there's that." He coughs awkwardly,
feeling a little grateful for not having any memory of what he must've done to
sustain himself in the wilderness. It wouldn't have been pretty. "Anyway,
whatever fog was in my mind cleared up a couple of days ago.
"I could feel you, how upset you were and how angry the rest of the pack was,
and at first I thought it was all aimed at me. But after a while, I told myself
I was just being stupid...so I came back."
Stiles listens to Derek's explanation with an open mind, wanting to get into
his wolf's head and truly understand everything he's hearing. "I get that, I
really do, but you have to understand that no one in the pack blames you," he
assures again, guessing those are words he'll be repeating for a long time
until Derek actually starts to believe them.
Sure enough, when the man finally meets his eyes again, he can clearly see the
guilt and self-hatred that still lurks in their enchanting depths. "There's
something else I was wondering about, too..." he continues, pausing when Derek
looks at him curiously, waiting.
Taking a long breath, he readies himself to ask a question he's been mulling
over for days, one he bets won't be received very well. "That curse...if it was
the same one put on Isaac and Erica, then I want to know why it did what it did
to you," he requests, swallowing tightly when Derek quickly looks down at the
uneaten food on his plate again. "There must be something you're scared of,
something you haven't told me that caused it to happen like that. I think I
already have some idea of what it is, and you don't have to answer me right
now, but I do want to know soon. Whoever is doing this is still out there, and
as long as you hold onto those fears and feelings, there's always a chance of
something like that happening again. I don't want either of us to go through
that a second time."
Nodding his acquiescence, Derek pulls his plate closer again and finishes his
dinner.
He keeps his senses focused on Stiles the entire time, his eyes trained on his
food for the most part as he just listens to his mate shuffle about the
kitchen, cleaning it. Every minute or so, though, he allows himself a quick
glance at the boy, but he's always quick so he doesn't get caught.
It doesn't escape him that Stiles' movements aren't as free as they normally
are, and when the teen stretches up to put something away on top of one of the
cupboards and his midriff becomes exposed, he knows why. His inner turmoil only
gets worse when he gets a glimpse at the stitches still holding Stiles' skin
together. About five minutes later, after Stiles has disappeared into the
living room, Derek takes his last bite and deposits his plate and fork in the
dishwasher before going to see where the teen has gotten to.
He finds Stiles sat in the middle of the sofa, writing furiously in the
notebook balanced on his thigh. Several of his school books lay open on the
coffee table in the front of him.
Wanting to keep his distance until he works up the nerve to give the teen the
answers he needs, Derek leaves him to it and goes back upstairs to take care of
his overgrown beard, which itches in the worst way. When he sees himself in the
mirror above the sink, his eyes widen when he realises just how wild he looks.
Before, he didn't notice how much his physical state had deteriorated in the
time he was gone—when he was showering, his attention was too focused on the
heart beating rapidly out in the bedroom to take in much else. Even though all
the dirt, blood and grime is gone from his hair and skin, he could still easily
pass as someone who lives by themselves on a remote island that's completely
devoid of civilisation. He looks primitive, especially when he adds in his
sunken cheeks and eyes. Retrieving his razor, he trims his beard short again,
to the length Stiles has said he likes the best.
It does wonders to make him look like himself again.
The time alone gives him a chance to think over Stiles' question more closely,
and it's not long before he comes up with the answer. Honestly, he knew what it
was back down in the kitchen, but his willingness to delve into all of those
carefully tucked-away feelings hadn't appeared yet.
It always comes back to her, he thinks wryly, wishing for the day to come fast
where he's able to leave his past behind completely and move on. Discussing it
all now and getting it all out on the table may be just what he needs to do to
make a start at that. It'll get the ball rolling at the very least, and because
that's the worst outcome he can see, he knows he needs to be brave and bite the
bullet.
After cleaning the hairs from the sink, Derek checks himself over one last time
in the mirror and nods approvingly before turning off the light and exiting
into the bedroom.
Looking at the clock on Stiles' nightstand, he finds that time is passing
surprisingly quickly. He was apparently lost in his thoughts in the bathroom
for almost a full hour, and he guesses that explains why the sky looks orange
instead of blue when he steps over to the window and draws back the curtains to
look outside. His foot catches on something on the floor, and when he looks
down, he frowns at the towel he finds laid out across the carpet. Kneeling
down, he carefully peels it back and recoils in disgust when he sees the blood
stains beneath—its dried brown colour is a stark contrast to the pale cream it
should be. Deciding it's best for his own sanity if he leaves the towel where
it is for the time being, he gets a random book from the small bookcase that's
positioned next to the dresser and settles on the bed to read.
A distraction is just what he needs until Stiles finishes downstairs and comes
up to join him.
He's quick to get sucked into the story, so much so that he doesn't hear his
mate approaching until the bedroom door is opened and the teen actually steps
through it. He watches as Stiles gathers some sleep clothes before heading to
the bathroom, returning his small smile before he shuts the door.
Putting his bookmark in place, Derek sets the book down on the nightstand
before pulling the sheets out from under his body and tucking himself in.
It gives him a fleeting sense of security, one he knows he'll definitely need
for the discussion he's about to start. Switching off the bedside lamp helps to
further create the illusion of safety, like he's in his own little world where
nothing and no one can hurt him or the people he loves. He rests his head back
against the pillows and just listens to the sound of the tap running in the
next room, to Stiles brushing his teeth and mumbling to himself about something
unknown under his breath. The sense of normalcy this gives him is immensely
comforting, but it's short-lived, fading away again as soon as the bathroom
door opens and Stiles steps back into the room. Things feel awkward for a while
after the teen slides beneath the sheets on the other side of the bed,
carefully keeping some distance between them. All of the courage Derek managed
to gather beforehand is annoyingly nowhere to be found, and his tongue feels
stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Luckily, his mate seems to know that he wants to speak even if he can't make
himself.
"You seem tense," Stiles mumbles into the darkness. He turns over onto his side
so that he's facing Derek when the man hums his assent, tucking a hand beneath
his cheek to lean on. This allows him to see more of Derek's face, what little
he can make out of it in the dark.
Staying lying on his back, Derek reaches over blindly until the back of his
hand touches Stiles' stomach, and he squeezes back gratefully when it's almost
instantly taken and held in the teen's smaller one. When he finally manages to
open his mouth, his voice already sounds rough with tightly held emotion, a
realisation that makes him shake his head at himself with annoyance. "I've been
thinking about what you said earlier, when you asked me why the curse did what
it did," he starts, glad when Stiles remains quiet, letting him talk
uninterrupted. "I think it's pretty obvious what I'm scared of—the people I
love getting hurt because of me. Logically, I know you're right when you say
that what happened wasn't my fault, but I can't bring myself to actually
believe it. I can't help but feel guilty for you being hurt. Old habits are
hard to break, it seems."
He sighs deeply before finally venturing into what he knows will be the most
difficult part of the conversation to get through, at least for him. "I guess
if I had to pick a point where it all started...that point would be when Kate
first appeared."
It takes a lot of restraint for Stiles to remain where he is on the bed.
He can tell clearly that Derek is struggling to get the words out, both through
their bond and from the shaking of his voice, and his first instinct is to pull
his wolf into his arms and soothe all the pain away. He knows, though, that
maintaining the distance between them is a good thing. Holding Derek's hand in
his own is probably already pushing it a little, so he stays right where he is
and listens silently to everything that comes out of the alpha's mouth.
"I suppose I can say that I was content before she came along, not really
happy, but not really sad either. Just...existing," Derek continues, taking his
hand back so that he can fiddle with a loose thread in the sheets, distracting
himself a little. "I've never actually looked into whether it was legitimate,
but one day, Kate showed up in place of one of my teachers, saying that he was
ill and would be taking a temporary leave of absence until he got better. She
was posing as a substitute, and I could tell right away that she had some
interest in me, more than a teacher should have for one of their students. I
ignored it at first, but her eyes definitely stayed on me longer than they did
anyone else, and after she asked me to stay behind after class a couple of
weeks in, things got more intense.
"She lied and said she needed to talk to me about one of my assignments, and
the next thing I know, her hand is on my shoulder and she's leaning in to kiss
me."
Actually learning in clear detail about how Derek was manipulated and used
affects Stiles more than he thought it would, especially because it's coming
from the man himself. Understandably, it's not exactly fun for him to hear
about one of his mate's past relationships, but those feelings are swiftly
overshadowed by horror and anger because he already knows its main ins and
outs. At least, that's what he thought.
What Derek says next was still unknown to him, shocking him.
"I was a little freaked out and I pushed her away at first, but she just seemed
so...nice about it all," Derek whispers, lost in his memories. It's the first
time he's really allowed himself to think about those few months properly since
the fire, and all the old emotions associated with them come roaring back. They
seem even more potent because they were sealed away for so long. "She knew I
found her attractive, and she used it to her advantage in every conceivable way
after that day. Her clothes got slightly more revealing, never to the point
where anyone else noticed anything, but because I was paying attention, I did.
That's exactly what she wanted. She started giving me extra attention in class,
lingering touches, that sort of stuff. I guess because it was all happening
pretty soon after Paige and I still wasn't really feeling like myself again
yet, she was able to get inside my head more easily.
"When we would pass each other in the halls, she'd say these little things to
me, things I needed to hear that made me start trusting her more."
It's at this point that Stiles gives in to his urge to be closer, moving his
hand from beneath his cheek and stretching his arm out until his fingers run
through the silky, dark strands of Derek's freshly washed hair. He's pleased
that this doesn't seem to overstep Derek's boundaries. The alpha pauses briefly
in his storytelling to push back into his touch until his nails scratch lightly
against the man's scalp.
"I was going to basketball practice a lot more regularly. My coach was
delighted because, and not to brag, I was the best player on the team, and this
made it easy for Kate to get me alone each time it let out and the other guys
were already gone. In all honesty, I think I hung around for longer because I
was hoping she'd show up..." Derek admits quietly, giving a humourless chuckle.
He suppresses a disappointed whine when Stiles' fingers stop threading through
his hair. "Anyway...a couple of weeks later, I stayed behind after class again
to talk to her. I swear I was planning on putting my foot down and telling her
to stop coming on to me, that I'd thought it over and didn't want to risk it
anymore, but that's obviously not how things turned out. She kissed me again
before I could even open mouth, and I got caught up in it, forgetting
everything I wanted to say.
"It felt good to have someone want me again, and the fact that she was older
and we weren't supposed to be doing it made it exciting. It probably sounds
silly, but it made me feel alive again.
"We had to be discreet for obvious reasons—I was underage and she was my
teacher, so if anybody caught us, we'd both get into serious trouble. We would
meet up in secret whenever we could, which was tricky because my mom was still
keeping a close eye on me. At the time, I thought it because of what happened
with Paige, but thinking about it now, she probably also wanted to make sure I
didn't get any memories back of Landon and Jeremy before she thought I was
ready."
Stiles mulls these words over for a second when Derek pauses again.
He guesses that Talia would've eventually returned the memories had she not
died in the fire, and on top of everything else, the fact that Kate
inadvertently caused Derek to live for years without knowing his favourite
uncle existed makes his blood boil all over again.
"Still, we managed, and before I realised it, she made my whole life revolve
around her. She knew it, too, and she definitely wasn't afraid to use it to her
advantage," Derek explains, sighing. "I found myself ditching family get-
togethers or making excuses to my friends about why I couldn't hang out with
them just so I could sneak away with Kate. Everything she told me about her
life was a lie specifically designed to ingratiate herself to me, but she
seemed so genuine and I never once detected a skip in her heartbeat. We saw
each other almost every day for about a month, and she got me to feel so
comfortable around her that I eventually told her what I was, what my family
was. She seemed shocked at first, which is what I expected, but she accepted it
quickly and said that she still loved me, werewolf or human. Things got more
serious then... On the night of the fire, she asked me to sneak out and meet
her again—not an easy feat with a house full of werewolves, let me tell you. We
met up in her car, all the way on the other side of town."
Stiles holds his breath as he waits to hear how the night ends, even though he
already knows.
"Things seemed a little off for a while," Derek continues sadly, "and she kept
checking her phone like she was waiting for something. I asked her what was
wrong, and she made up some flimsy excuse and found a way to distract me. I
mean, I was a teenage boy—a teenage boy who was a werewolf, at that—so when she
suddenly started making out with me, I forgot about how weird things started
off.
"I guess she wanted to take one more thing from me that night, because the next
thing I know, she's pulling off my clothes and saying that she's 'ready', that
she wanted me to fuck her. I'd never... I'd never done anything like that
before, with anyone, so I was willing. More than."
At this point, Stiles is more sure than ever that his theory about why the
curse happened the way it did is correct, but he doesn't interrupt.
"She checked her phone one last time before it actually happened, and I suppose
that's when her accomplices told her the fire had been set," Derek croaks, a
single tear running down the side of his face and onto the pillow. He turns
away from the touch when Stiles tries to wipe the moisture away, feeling like
he doesn't deserve to be comforted. "It didn't last long, and when I..." he
coughs awkwardly, "you know...I lost control of my wolf and shifted. That's
when she showed her true colours. She said that she never loved me, that I was
a freak for what I was and that I should just be put down before I could
corrupt anyone else with my sickness. I was too shocked to say anything or even
get angry—I couldn't believe how damn happy she looked, how much pleasure she
took in ripping me to shreds like that... It was like she was a completely
different person. Before I could get out of her car and leave, she got this
twisted grin on her face that gave me chills, and she leaned in and whispered
in my ear that I'd always be hers now.
"After that, she shoved me out of the car and told me to run off home, that
there was a surprise waiting for me there that would make me feel better. I
just wanted to get away from her, so I took a shortcut through the preserve,
cursing myself for being so fucking stupid, for giving myself to her like
that."
All the thoughts Stiles has had in the past about how he wishes Kate's demise
was bloodier and more drawn out are reaffirmed in his head.
Derek feels more tears roll down his cheeks he reaches the end of his tale. "I
ran into Laura halfway there..." he whispers, blinking past the wetness in his
eyes to stare blankly at the opposite wall. "She'd stayed behind after school
for some club or meeting, and she could sense that something was wrong with me.
Before I could tell her, though, she gasped in pain and doubled over before
crumpling to the ground. It freaked me out, and when I touched her shoulder,
her head snapped up and I saw that her eyes were red. I knew what it meant, but
I couldn't believe it. I guess I had to see it for myself...
"The smell of smoke was suffocating. That's the main thing I remember, that and
the screaming." He takes a shuddering breath, a deep ache forming in his chest
as he feels the horror his words are instilling in Stiles through their bond.
"Mountain ash was spread around all the doors and windows—no one could get out
and I couldn't go in to save them. That didn't stop me from trying anyway.
Laura had to hold me back so I didn't hurt myself, but I gave up when the
screams began to die down. All we could do was stand there and watch as the
flames took everything from us... Peter told me after he resurrected himself
that my mom sacrificed her own life to get everybody else down into the
basement, hoping that they could use the catacombs to get out. But Kate thought
of that, too, making escape impossible. Emergency services arrived shortly
afterward, and because they were human, they could get in and search for
survivors. Peter's was the only body they pulled out that wasn't lifeless, and
we know how that story ends. I still don't know what happened to Cora that
night, how in the world she managed to get out alive as well.
"After the fire was put out, I remember sitting in the back of the ambulance
with Laura and looking up when I felt eyes on me. Kate was there, standing
between the trees and watching her handiwork. Our eyes met and she smiled at me
before slinking away. I was in too much shock to do or say anything. No one
else seemed to notice her, so I didn't try to tell them.
"When the shock wore off, I was so ashamed that my naivety was the reason my
family was dead that I kept quiet until Laura used an alpha command on me after
we got settled in New York."
"That's why the curse happened the way it did," Stiles interjects when Derek
goes silent, elaborating further when the alpha makes a questioning noise in
the back of his throat a second later. "Kate used sex as a weapon against you,
stealing your virginity away from you under false pretences and making you
ashamed of what you are—her coup de grâce, if you will. Her doing that left you
with the subconscious fear of doing the same thing to me, and the curse used
that to hurt both of us."
Even though Derek never realised he had that fear before, what Stiles is saying
makes so much sense to him that he can't understand how he didn't see it
previously.
It's just another example of how observant his mate is and how much he himself
isn't. While he still feels a lot of self-loathing and guilt, he has to admit
that actually talking about one of the worst experiences of his life in more
depth has relieved him of part of its weight. It's been constantly pressing on
his chest for the past decade of his life, and it's nice to be rid of some of
it. Stiles has coaxed him into opening up before, but he's never felt confident
enough to let the teen in fully until now.
The hard part over, he finally tears his eyes away from the wall and turns his
head to look instead at the boy in question. He never really thought he would,
but the fact that he cannot see even a single trace of judgement in Stiles'
eyes allows him to breathe easy again.
"I haven't even asked you how you are yet," he says eventually, embarrassed
that he's thus far made everything all about him when Stiles must have been
going through a lot, too. All of his memories of that night are still fuzzy,
like an old black and white movie with some scenes missing, but they've been
slowly clearing ever since he set foot inside the house again. One of the more
vivid parts is when he raked his claws down Stiles' sides during his climax,
splitting his skin open and making him bleed all over the carpet. He can still
pick out the coppery scent if he focuses, though because it's dried and weeks
old, it's thankfully mostly faded away. He reaches across the mattress and
brushes his hand lightly up one of Stiles' shirt-covered sides, a relieved and
tired smile appearing on his face when he tries to siphon off the teen's pain
and finds there isn't any to take. "Can I see them?"
"Are you sure you want to? They're not pretty," Stiles responds uncertainly,
sitting up and reaching for the neckline of his shirt.
When Derek nods with certainty, he pulls the material off over his head and
turns to face the alpha so that he can see the ten lines of neat sutures that
run down from his ribs to just above his hips. "They're healing pretty nicely;
I had a checkup with Melissa yesterday, and she said she should be able to take
them out soon, maybe in a couple of days." The black thread stands out against
his pale skin, and he'll frankly be very glad to be rid of them.
Derek reaches out a tentative hand and skates his finger over one of the lines.
He can't believe he took something as beautiful as Stiles' body and marred it
so horribly. "I'm so sorry..." he says as he takes his hand back. He can tell
the scarring is going to be bad, and his voice just begs for forgiveness.
"It's OK, Sourwolf," Stiles replies, looking down at his torso as well.
In all honesty, he's not too bothered by the pink lines he knows he'll see when
Melissa takes the stitches out. He does however feel bad that for the rest of
his life, Derek will have to see the evidence of what he did while under the
curse's influence. If it would save the man from all of that, he would take the
bite in a heartbeat, but not even lycanthropy can get rid of old scarring
received while the person was still human. The mark on Scott's cheek is
evidence of that fact.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" he exclaims after a few beats of silence, switching on
the lamp on his bedside table so he doesn't have to rummage through the top
drawer blindly.
Derek watches quietly, his mouth dropping open when Stiles reemerges and he
sees what the teen has in his hand. He holds out his own and sniffles a little
when both his old and his new triskelion necklaces are placed in the centre of
his palm. "W-what?" he asks dumbly, immediately putting the new one on before
examining the old one more closely. He doesn't know what he feels when he sees
how twisted and misshapen it is, and he wonders what on earth happened to it to
make it that way. In a way, he used to think of it as a symbol of Stiles' love
for him, so seeing it in that state is a little sad. Still, he guesses he'll be
OK if he keeps the new one with him.
"I've kind of been wearing the white gold one these past couple of weeks,"
Stiles explains sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when Derek's eyes
flick up to meet his and he gets a look at all the different emotions swirling
within. "I missed you, and doing that made me feel closer to you."
"Oh..." Derek responds breathlessly, touched. "What about this one? Where'd you
find it?" He holds up the gold pendant by the chain and watches as it spins,
almost hypnotised.
Stiles puts his shirt back on when the chill of the room starts to get to him.
He must have forgotten to turn the heating on again. "Lydia's the one who found
it, actually," he corrects, sliding beneath the covers to warm himself up
again. "She and a couple of the others went to check out the clearing we were
attacked in the day after it happened. It was wedged between two tree roots. I
guess that's what they used to enact the curse, and whatever the process was
melted it a little. Lydia gave it to me last week to give back to you, if you
wanted to keep it." He's not surprised when Derek immediately nods his head,
putting the pendant safely on his nightstand before lying down next top him
where he belongs. "It doesn't even look that bad. I mean, it's not a triskelion
anymore, obviously, but it kind of looks like someone took some weird artsy
sculpture and made a replica out of it from gold. It would actually be pretty
cool-looking if you didn't know what it was originally."
Derek contemplates Stiles' words for a few seconds before an idea hits him. It
might be too soon to actually do it, at least for a while, but the corner of
his mouth still twitches and he feels a small sense of pride at how good the
idea is. "OK," he accepts, keeping his excitement from his face so he doesn't
accidentally give anything away ahead of time.
"Are we good?" Stiles asks after Derek gets comfortable, switching off the lamp
and plunging them both once more into darkness.
Derek allows the teen to cuddle up to his side and rests his chin atop his
head. "We're getting there," he replies eventually, his voice quiet. "I'm fine
with this, but...I think it's going to be a while until this all goes away and
we get back to how we were before it all happened. Don't worry, though; I know
we'll get there." He presses a reassuring kiss to Stiles' forehead before
closing his eyes and settling in for the night, humming in contentment when he
feels a slender arm wrap tightly around his waist and pull them tighter
together.
                                     * * *
- Tuesday, September 18th, 2012 -
Like Derek said, Stiles finds that things are a little awkward the following
morning.
He wakes up alone again, the other side of the bed cold, and looks over at the
clock on his nightstand. Sighing when he sees that it's nearing time for him to
get up, he figures there's no point in staying in bed any longer, especially
not when he's by himself. He spends a small amount of time getting ready in the
bathroom before tossing on a random set of clothes and making his way
downstairs to see where Derek has gotten to. Following the smell of hot food
through to the kitchen, he finds his wolf standing in front of the stove,
cooking something in a saucepan that smells suspiciously like bacon. "Hey," he
greets, knowing Derek will have heard him coming but feeling the need to
announce his presence anyway. When the alpha just glances over his shoulder and
nods his reply, he has to stop himself from walking up behind the man and
wrapping him in a lazy hug like he ordinarily would. If he thought Derek's
breakdown and their subsequent discussion would speed things along, he's proven
wrong.
He guesses that Derek will still need some time until he forgives himself
enough to participate in those casual and affectionate touches again. The fact
that they went to sleep pressed up close together probably only happened
because Derek put himself in such a vulnerable state rehashing the most
traumatic event in his life.
If that hadn't happened, Stiles guesses it would've been another cold night.
In fact, as he takes a seat around the island, Stiles theorises that it will
still take quite a bit of time for things to go back to the way they were for
both of them. The distance Derek is keeping between them forces him to
reevaluate the situation, and he lets himself be honest—he's not really ready
to just jump straight back into how things were before either, not yet. He
can't wait for that day, though. He misses being close to Derek already, the
way they could just be around each other and feel one-hundred percent at ease.
Stiles is brought out of his introspection when Derek places his breakfast down
in front of him. "Thanks..." he says quietly, tucking in readily to give
himself something to do.
Overall, breakfast is a tense affair. Both of them know there's more that needs
to be said, but neither of them are willing to be the one who speaks up first.
They eat in silence, both of them staring back and forth at the other when they
think the other isn't looking.
When the last strip of bacon is gone from his plate, Stiles brushes his hands
off on his chinos before dumping the plate in the sink. After checking the time
on his phone, he actually breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that it's time
for him to head off to school lest he be late. The fact that he actually feels
relief about being apart from Derek isn't something that sits right, but he
just can't find the energy to deal with all of the unsaid words in that moment.
Still, he doesn't want to leave the alpha to stew in his own worries all day,
so he presses a quick kiss to Derek's bearded cheek and whispers, "I love you,"
in his ear before slipping from the room. He finds his backpack in the living
room where he left it and slings it over his shoulder as he walks out through
the front door. Shutting it with a gentle click and traipsing over to his car,
he sits behind the steering wheel and allows his body to sag into the smooth
leather beneath him, glad to be out of the house.
The drive to the high school is a fast one, and like he has every day since he
started attending again, he finds Isaac waiting for him on the curb next to his
unofficial parking space.
Getting out of his car, Stiles retrieves his backpack from the passenger seat
before walking up to the beta and letting himself be pulled into their usual
hug of greeting. He becomes confused, though, when instead of pulling him
straight up the steps and through the main doors, Isaac holds him at arm's
length and scents the air between them curiously.
"Uh, what's up?" he asks, snapping the beta out of his sniffing.
"You smell like Derek," Isaac replies simply, letting go of Stiles' shoulders
and falling into step beside him when the other boy begins walking toward the
school building on his own for once. He trails behind Stiles all the way to his
locker, not planning on leaving his side until he gets an explanation, not even
when he sees Danny and Erica waving at the two of them from the other end of
the hall. "It's fresh, so I know it's not just you wearing his clothes or
something because you miss him. Please tell me he's back." He's desperate to
see his alpha pair well and together again—his wolf hasn't shut up since he
stumbled across Stiles that memorable evening, whining nearly constantly in his
head and longing for the pack to be happy and whole once more. Neither he nor
his wolf are happy unless it is, and he knows it's his previously unstable home
life that makes them that way.
Inputting his combination, Stiles opens his locker and stuffs most of the books
from his backpack inside it to pick up later. It seems stupid to break his back
carrying them all when they're not needed for hours.
Slamming the locker door shut again, he fits the strap of his backpack
comfortably in place on his shoulder, sighing in relief at how light it feels
now. Turning back to Isaac, he smiles tiredly at the hopeful expression still
on the beta's face. "Yes, he's back," he answers, ignoring what he thinks is
Erica's celebratory shout when it echoes over to him. "He got back last night,
looking a total mess, but he's all cleaned up now."
"How is he? Emotionally, I mean," Isaac enquires timidly, feeling that he might
be crossing the line into business that has nothing to do with him.
When they catch up to Erica and Danny at the other end of the hall, Stiles
doesn't bother rehashing everything he and Isaac have already said, knowing
that the two nosey betas will have been eavesdropping. "He's...he's OK as he
can be, I guess. We both are," he mumbles, keeping his voice low as he leads
the way into their first class of the day—he doesn't want any of the other
students overhearing something they shouldn't. He finds Jackson and Lydia
already in their seats, and he takes his own beside the redhead. Isaac takes
his other side and Erica and Danny sit in front of them both. He's glad Charlie
doesn't also share this class, meaning he can talk semi freely. "I'm gonna be
honest—things are a little tense, and they probably will be for a while as we
deal with all the demons that this brought up, so you should all be prepared
for that."
"Understandable," Erica interjects, gathering her long blonde hair at the back
of her head and tying it into a ponytail with the band she keeps around her
wrist. "He always has been quite the martyr, hasn't he?" She shakes her head
sadly, raising an eyebrow at Isaac when the curly-haired beta turns around in
his seat to glare at her over his shoulder.
"Well, it's no secret that we both have problems; this just brought all of that
back with a vengeance, which is probably what that dickhead in the preserve
wanted in the first place..." Stiles fumes, glaring at the large blackboard on
the wall at the front of the room. He tries to calm himself down before his
emotions get out of control and he accidentally does something stupid, like set
his desk on fire. "I want to thank all of you for helping me through these past
couple of weeks, by the way.
"I'd recommend not making a big deal out of everything that's happened when you
see Derek later; it'll probably be better if you just act like nothing is
different. We'll get there soon—we've already been through too much to let this
beat us, so we're not going to. Simple as that."
Right as he finishes speaking, the teacher walks into the room and effectively
ends the conversation.
                                     * * *
When the rest of the pack are informed of Derek's return, most of them are
ecstatic about having their alpha back and pleased that they can stop watching
Stiles waste away to nothing. Cora is happy that her brother is safe at home
again, and even Boyd manages to produce a rather sizeable smile—at least by his
standards—when Erica tells him the news. All of them notice the change this
causes in Stiles, the way he holds himself a bit taller now and how the sour
scent of misery doesn't follow him to their table in the cafeteria like an
oppressive cloud. The only person who doesn't react with joy and relief is
Scott, who says he's happy even though his face never actually shows it. From
their years of close friendship, Stiles knows this means something important,
but he can't work up the energy to decipher it and just decides to ignore it
for now and deal with the beta later.
His last class of the day is once again Chemistry, and he returns Charlie's
smile easily when he walks into the room and sees her already sat in her usual
seat. "Hey," he greets, plopping down on his own stool next to the girl and
getting his textbook out from his backpack.
"You seem different," Charlie replies instead of returning the sentiment.
"Like, lighter or something."
"Oh, yeah...I'm feeling much better now," Stiles promises, hoping that he
didn't worry the girl too much when he was walking around like a zombie for two
weeks. Going over the month and a half that he's known her, he finds that the
only instances she's spent time with the pack are when he was there to bridge
the gap. Even though he thinks that Charlie and the pack are friends to some
degree, he knows with certainty that he's the one she's closest to in the group
and feels bad for leaving her in the dust without anyone to really talk to or
hang out with.
Charlie purses her lips and pats Stiles on the shoulder. "I'm glad. Y'know, you
still haven't told me what caused your little episode of doom and gloom or
whatever you wanna call it," she points out, keeping her eyebrows raised
expectantly.
"I was just going through some personal relationship-y stuff that I don't
really feel like getting into right now, probably not ever," Stiles explains,
careful to keep the truth out of it entirely.
He relaxes when Charlie just nods, the girl accepting his non-answer with ease
before Ms. Adler walks into the room and calls all talking to a halt. As he
turns to face the blackboard—even though Lydia's revenge plan still seems to be
working, making the woman a lot more pleasant to be around, he doesn't want to
actively do anything to risk that changing—he catches something from the corner
of his eye. It's quick, but he sees Charlie bite her lip as she looks down at
her hands with the most unusual expression on her face. If Stiles had to put a
name to it, he would say she looked guilty in that brief flash, but because the
class is starting, he's unable to ask her what caused it. He hopes it's nothing
he did. The last thing he needs to deal with then is more guilt.
                                     * * *
At the end of the school day, it comes as no surprise to Stiles that all of the
betas beg to tag along with him and see Derek for themselves. He relents when
Isaac brings out his puppy eyes, but he warns all of them not to crowd the man
as soon as they walk through the front door.
When he pulls to stop outside the house, Stiles finds Derek sitting on the
porch swing with a book in his hands, looking relaxed and like he doesn't have
a care in the world. It's a nice thing to see. Of course, that illusion is
destroyed as soon as the rest of the pack exit their vehicles, but they
thankfully all follow his instruction—Jackson offers the man a simple nod, and
Scott's eyes flick over in his direction for a second before he follows the
other beta into the house. Everyone else offers Derek cheery greetings as they
walk up the steps to join the two boys inside. For a second, it looks like
Isaac is going to disobey and cuddle intrusively right up to Derek's side, but
the alpha is saved when Danny reappears and drags his boyfriend away. Stiles
catches a glimpse of the Hawaiian rolling his eyes fondly before the door shuts
with a click.
"You had a nice day?" Stiles asks when he takes a seat on the other side of the
swing. It pains him to keep his distance, and he very nearly takes a page out
of Isaac's book and closes it, but after how stilted things seemed that
morning, he guesses it'll be best for them if he leaves the speed at which they
reconnect for Derek to set alone.
He tells himself that he can wait patiently for his mate to work through his
issues.
"It was alright," Derek replies, putting his bookmark in place before shutting
the book and setting it down on the armrest. He wants to have all of his focus
on the conversation. "I thought everybody would be more...enthused when they
saw me again. Your doing, I assume?"
"I thought you'd appreciate not being suffocated by everybody trying to pile on
top of you, yes," Stiles confirms smugly. "I suggested they keep their distance
for a while, at least until you tell them you're ready for more." He knows for
sure that he did the right thing when one side of Derek's mouth lifts and his
eyes become softer. They lose the tightness around the edges that he guesses
was there to guard against being assaulted by puppies like he was anticipating.
Returning the small smile, he's pleasantly surprised when Derek pats the space
next to him, beckoning him closer. After some silent communication—during which
he asks the alpha if he's sure and gets an easy nod in return—he gladly scoots
along the swing until he's sitting right next to Derek.
His mate's body is a long line of heat against his own, warming and protecting
him from the mild chill that's beginning to seep into the late-afternoon air.
He sighs, a pleased sound, when Derek guides him to lean his head on his broad
shoulder.
"Mmm...this is nice; I've missed this," he says quietly a few minutes later,
after fingers begin carding slowly through his hair. He brings his legs up onto
the swing and curls them beneath his body to get more comfortable, hoping that
the betas will be fine if left alone in the house for a while. He doesn't think
he would be capable of moving even if he wanted to.
"Me, too," Derek replies.
They stay there in their own little bubble for almost a full hour before Lydia
comes to see what's taking them so long. Her face appears around the door
frame, and she can't help but feel relieved when she sees Stiles and Derek
curled up together on the porch swing. Even though the boy told her they'd be
fine, as much as she didn't want to, she still had her doubts about them being
able to work through this latest hurdle, especially given the nature of it.
She's under no illusions that the work is all finished, but she's never been
happier to be proven wrong. "Hey, you two," she speaks up finally when one of
Derek's eyes opens to look at her curiously. "I didn't want to bother you, but
some interested parties wanted to know what the dinner situation is for
tonight, and they're getting a little...rambunctious."
Derek knows full well what Lydia is talking about. For the past half hour, he's
been listening to the betas get more and more worked up in the living room. He
would've blocked them out entirely, but the fear that they would end up
breaking something kept his attention.
"Tell them we'll be there in a few minutes," he replies, glad when Lydia
retreats back inside the house.
Looking down at Stiles snuggled into his side, he's loath to move when he sees
how peaceful the teen appears, his face relaxed as he sleeps away the
afternoon. Still, he knows that Stiles will be grumpy later if left in slumber
much longer now. With a gentle touch, he pushes his mate's body up until he's
sitting straight, panicking briefly when the teen almost topples over the other
way, his head hanging back and his mouth open ridiculously. Keeping a hand on
Stiles' shoulder, Derek calls out to him and traces a finger down the bridge of
his nose, grinning when it twitches and the teen's eyes finally crack open
following a displeased groan.
"Ugh, you're such a meanie..." Stiles complains when he fully wakes up. He
stretches and yawns loudly before reluctantly trailing after Derek when the
alpha stands and heads into the house. They find Erica and Isaac roughhousing
in the living room, growling in each other's faces.
The sofa is overturned, and the others watch from the safety of the kitchen as
the two betas inch closer and closer to the coffee table.
Derek roars and flashes his eyes red, huffing in satisfaction when Isaac
immediately responds. He watches as the tall teen throws Erica off and springs
to his feet with wide, innocent-looking eyes that fool absolutely no one. For
her part, Erica dusts herself off and calls Isaac a goody two-shoes under her
breath before wandering away to track down Boyd, planning a make-out session.
Turning back to Isaac, Derek rolls his eyes hard when he sees the boy is still
eyeing him hopefully. After making him wait a few more torturous seconds just
to watch him squirm, he holds his arms out and grunts at the impact when Isaac
launches himself forward and collides with him like a homing missile. He sees
Stiles creep past him down the hallway, leaving the two of them alone, and
wraps his arms more securely around the tall body clinging to him.
"I'm glad you're OK," Isaac whispers into Derek's shoulder before releasing
him, allowing the alpha to ruffle his hair good-naturedly before practically
skipping away to rejoin Danny in stuffing their faces. The only reason he
stopped was because he greedily tried to take the last cookie from Erica's
plate, starting their fight.
Bending down, Derek eases his hands beneath the sofa and flips it back into
place. He fixes all of the cushions before taking a seat.
Now in the kitchen with most of the betas, Stiles has his head buried in the
fridge as he searches for something he can cook for them all that's reasonably
healthy. Everybody's diet has taken a serious nosedive recently because he
didn't feel up to keeping on top of it, so he's hellbent on correcting it now
that he's more himself again. Along with some questionable-looking vegetables,
he finds two packs of unopened chicken breasts hidden behind some milk on the
bottom shelf, and this gives him the idea of doing a stir-fry. It's all
reaching its sell-by date anyway, so it seems like the perfect solution.
Grabbing some garlic and a few other spices to flavour it all, he gets to work
and ropes Isaac and Allison in to help prepare some of the easier ingredients
while he takes care of the chicken.
He's so focused on his cooking that he doesn't notice his best friend slink
out.
Back in the living room, Derek looks up when Scott approaches him and flops
down on the opposite end of the sofa. He can sense that something is bothering
the crooked-jawed beta—his whole body practically radiates anger and
distrust—and this sets him on edge, too. Keeping his eyes firmly glued to his
book, he hopes that not giving Scott any attention will be enough to deter the
young wolf from speaking whatever is on his mind. He's unfortunately not that
lucky.
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Scott begins, his tone already
sounding sanctimonious. Ever since that night when he accompanied his mother to
patch Stiles up, there's been a voice in the back of his head telling him that
Derek did it on purpose. It was so persistent and all of its arguments seemed
so good that he couldn't help buying into them.
In his eyes, all Derek did was nearly kill his best friend before selfishly
taking off so he didn't have to deal with the aftermath, and when he overheard
that the alpha was back from across the lunch table, he knew he'd be the one to
lead the confrontation.
Derek hears the muted talking in the kitchen come to a sudden halt at Scott's
angry question. He keeps himself calm as he closes his book and places it on
the coffee table, not rising to the bait that the beta is so obviously dangling
in front of him. Taking a breath, he faces Scott head-on with his expression
held carefully neutral. "What do you mean?" he responds, tilting his head to
the side. As much as the beta has owned up to the mistakes he made back then,
the boy sitting in front of him is nearly identical to the insolent, newly
turned pup that challenged his every word and accused him of murdering his
sister right after they first met. The only difference is his thankfully
shorter hair. This tells him clearly that Scott still has a lot of growing up
to do, though that doesn't stop him from dreading whatever the beta has to say
next, especially given that the rest of the pack is within earshot.
"You think it's alright to do what you did to Stiles and then come back in here
two weeks later, acting as if everything's fine and you did nothing wrong?!"
Scott demands, leaping to his feet and clenching his hands at his sides. His
eyes glow a constant gold.
By this point, all of the betas have left their stools and are pressing
themselves close to the wall in order to hear everything better.
"That's none of your business, Scott," Derek forces out between clenched teeth,
his own eyes flashing red before he manages to get them back under control. He
doesn't want to give into his instinct to wring Scott's neck for challenging
him like this, an instinct that's stronger than normal because what they're
talking about is still so raw. "Stiles and I have already talked in depth about
everything that happened, and that's all you need to know about the subject."
"Bull-fucking-shit!" Scott exclaims defiantly, taking a reckless step forward.
The increasing loudness of his best friend's voice finally clues Stiles into
the argument happening in the next room. Frowning in confusion for a second, he
drops his wooden spoon into the saucepan containing the half-cooked chicken and
rips off his apron before dashing through to the living room. He gets there
just in time to catch Scott's next series of scathing remarks.
"I can't fucking believe you, Derek! Do you know what Stiles was like after
that night? No? Well, then, let me fill you in: he wasn't sleeping; he wasn't
eating... It was like we were right back to the end of last year, so much so
that I was actually scared we were gonna lose him!" Scott looks over his
shoulder at the other betas, searching for backup, but he doesn't get any. All
they do is give him pained looks before retreating back into the safety of the
kitchen. Even so, he's not deterred. "You do all that to Stiles—someone who
you're supposed to love—and then take off. You basically rape him, almost
killing him in the process, and then you just ditch him and leave all of us to
deal with the fallout! What were you doing all this time, huh? Off doing God
knows what when this was all. Your. Fault!" He steps closer and closer to Derek
during his impassioned rant and punctuates his last words by poking the alpha
roughly in the chest three times with his index finger.
Stiles doesn't immediately come to Derek's defence; he's too shocked by what
Scott is saying to move from his spot in front of the kitchen doorway.
Derek's irritated expression is quick to disappear as soon as the word 'rape'
passes Scott's lips, his face crumpling as all the blood drains from it. His
eyes look wounded, like black holes of hurt that leave the room in silence for
several incredibly tense seconds. He takes a step backward, his mouth settling
into a thin line before he scurries from the room without saying another word.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs can be heard as he retreats up to the
solitude of his and Stiles' bedroom.
Now that Derek is gone, Scott takes a breath before turning to face Stiles.
He's shocked when he sees the coldness in the other boy's eyes; it's more
terrifying than any rage he could display, but his belief in his earlier words
remains resolute.
"What was that...?" Stiles asks eerily calmly, though the slight quiver in his
voice betrays the emotions he's holding beneath the surface.
"The truth," Scott replies, holding his head high even though his heart feels
like it's beating a hundred times a second. "He did terrible things to you, and
then he comes back after two weeks, acting as if everything's fine? I know it
might seem harsh, but you're my best friend and he hurt you; I saw the way you
winced every time you sat down those first few days. I couldn't just let him
get away with that. Someone needed to tell him exactly what he did wrong, and
clearly I was the only one with enough balls to do it." After he's finished
speaking, he can't stop the nervous shudder that runs through his body as
Stiles approaches to stand right in front of him, their faces inches apart. He
swallows tightly when the human teen just stares him down with the same neutral
expression for almost a full minute. The sound of hushed whispering reaches his
ears from the kitchen, and he just about makes out Erica and Isaac concocting
an elaborate scheme to murder him.
Tilting his head to the side, Stiles flicks his eyes down to Scott's throat
when the beta swallows, watching his Adam's apple move. He feels a sense of
satisfaction when cracks begin showing in his supposed best friend's
expression, hidden fear revealing itself bit by bit.
"You have some nerve, Scott McCall," Stiles seethes, loosening his hold on his
anger. He rolls his head in a circle and unfurls his hands at his sides, the
apron he was still holding dropping to the floor with a soft sound as he lets
his eyes slip shut. The tether he still has on his rage is fraying, on the
verge of snapping completely, and as a result he can feel his irises are
starting to glow beneath his eyelids. "You dare to speak to your alpha that
way, to disrespect him and me that way, after everything we've done for you?"
"Stiles-" Scott tries to cut in, desperate to convince his friend that he's
right.
To everyone's surprise, when Stiles opens his eyes again to level Scott with a
scathing glare, the beta flies backward and hits the wall with a loud crash. He
falls to the floor, so caught off guard that his legs fail to keep him
standing.
Stiles doesn't really feel like himself in that moment; it's like something
else has taken over his body, but not in a terrifying way like with the
Nogitsune. It feels familiar, like an old friend that was forgotten, found once
more. It's primal, ancient and powerful. Even though he doesn't know how he did
it or what this new feeling means, he doesn't let any of his questions or
concerns show on his face. Instead, he keeps himself focused as he approaches
and kneels next to where Scott lies prone on the floor. Tilting his head to the
side almost speculatively, he watches as his prey squirms with unease beneath
his unerring gaze. "I think it's time for you to leave now, Scott," he says
after a tense silence, his tone making it clear that it's not a suggestion.
"Don't come back until you've learned your place and you're ready to apologise
to Derek and I and mean it."
Leaping to his feet when his friend sits back on his heels to let him up, Scott
looks pleadingly at the other boy. "Stiles..."
Having had enough, Stiles glowers at Scott one last time before pointing to the
front door. "Get. Out!" he yells, his voice nearly deafening. There's so much
power held in it that he actually shakes the whole house, causing one of the
picture frames on the wall to drop to the floor, the glass smashing on impact.
He doesn't move from his spot until Scott runs for the door, slamming it as he
leaves.
Finally coming down from whatever power had gripped him, Stiles walks over to
the fallen photograph and picks it up, shaking the loose glass from the frame
before staring down at it. He deflates when he sees which one it is. It seems
oddly fitting that the only photograph to fall was the one of the pack all
gathered together on the sofas shortly after the house was completed, smiling
up at the camera. Movement in his periphery snaps him from his staring, and
when he looks up, he finds the other betas looking at him from the kitchen,
frightened.
Even Jackson seems affected by what he just witnessed, and now that it's over
and the adrenaline has left his system, Stiles can't say he blames them at all.
Taking a deep breath, he hangs the picture back up on the wall before leaving
the room and ascending the stairs, wanting to check on Derek.
***** Vanity *****
"So...does anyone have any idea about what just happened?" Danny asks in shock,
tentatively stepping into the living room and approaching the spot where Scott
was launched off of his feet.
"Can't say I do, no," Lydia replies, joining the Hawaiian and staring off into
the foyer. "I don't think even Stiles knew how he did what he did. No one is
really sure how his spark works, whether there are limitations about what it
can do or not. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that what Scott said to
Derek pissed Stiles off so much that his anger tapped into his power."
Having retrieved a dustpan and brush from beneath the kitchen sink, Isaac
crouches down next to the shattered glass on the floor and sweeps it all up in
Stiles' absence. "I can't say I blame him," he mumbles darkly. "I can't believe
Scott would think those things, let alone have the nerve to actually say them
out loud..." His own less-than-pleasant feelings toward the crooked-jawed beta
have yet to fade away, and he doesn't think they will for quite some time. Even
if Scott goes through some serious self-reflection and apologises sincerely
like Stiles told him to, he himself won't be so quick to forgive the other boy,
a sentiment he thinks is shared by several of the others judging by the sour
expressions on their faces. When the glass is all cleaned up, he tosses it in
the bin before taking a seat in the middle of the sofa and leaning back into
the cushions. He looks up at the ceiling and wishes he could hear the
conversation that's no doubt going on upstairs. "I wonder how Derek is
doing..."
Allison and Kira stay silent throughout this whole exchange, standing awkwardly
in their spots next to the kitchen doorway and biting their lips. They're both
torn, the exact same things running through their minds—on the one hand, they
disagree wholeheartedly with everything Scott said and believe that none of
what happened was Derek's fault, but on the other, they love the boy and don't
want anything to put a wedge between them.
"Don't worry; I'm sure he'll be fine," Erica assures Isaac, flopping down next
to him and propping her high-heeled feet up on the coffee table.
"Me, too," Danny adds, taking the seat on Isaac's other side and leaning
against him. "It can't be good to hear that someone you're supposed to be close
with thinks you raped your mate, but I know that Stiles'll make both of them
see reason. It'll probably help if we tell him that none of us agree with Scott
whenever Derek comes back downstairs, as well."
Minutes later, Isaac says, "Screw it," before getting up and walking in the
direction of the stairs. When Danny asks him where he's going, he yells back
over his shoulder, "I'm gonna see if I can hear anything through the door! I
want to know how it's going already..." He conceals a smile behind his hand
when he hears the others rush to join him, having known beforehand that they
wouldn't be able to resist if he took the first step.
                                     * * *
When he gets upstairs, Stiles steps lightly toward his and Derek's closed
bedroom door, wondering whether it would be a good idea to leave the man alone
for a little while longer. In the end, after several minutes spent standing
with his hand hovering over the knob and listening to the discussion going on
downstairs, he decides to just go for it and opens the door. It swings open to
reveal Derek sitting cross-legged in the middle of their bed, his head in his
hands. "You OK?" he asks as he approaches, sliding onto the mattress behind him
and shuffling up close so that they're chest to back. He's glad when Derek nods
a second later, which makes him feel comfortable enough to move and prop
himself up against the pillows, gently pulling the man back with him so that
he's cradled safely between his legs.
Derek rests his head against Stiles' collarbone, turning it sideways so that
his forehead is pressed to the pale skin of the teen's neck and he can breathe
him in better. "What happened after I left?" he asks after building his
courage, breaking the silence.
"I gave Scott a real talking to," Stiles replies, slipping a hand beneath
Derek's shirt and rubbing it back and forth across his toned stomach.
Humming quietly in pleasure, Derek snuggles even closer to the teen and closes
his eyes, taking great comfort from his touch. Nothing calms him down quite
like Stiles' hands running slowly over his belly, but he knows he'll never
actually say those words out loud—he doesn't want to give the boy even more
ammunition to use in his dog jokes. His efforts to keep that secret are
apparently pointless, though, as he finds out when his mate speaks again, low
in his ear.
He really hates that Stiles is able to read him so easily sometimes.
"Yeah, you like when I give you belly rubs, don't cha, big guy?" Stiles
chuckles softly, bringing his short nails into play and scratching them lightly
through the trail of hair that leads down from Derek's bellybutton. The muscles
of his abs twitch beneath his palm, and he smiles in relief when he feels the
man exhale sharply through his nose in his trademark sign of amusement, the
breath puffing out across his neck and tickling him. He only stops his teasing
when he feels a sharp pinprick of pain on his thigh, caused by Derek poking him
with an unsheathed claw. When they're both calm again, he resumes his earlier
stroking but keeps it soothing instead of trying to rile the man up. Thinking
that there are still things they need to discuss, he buries the lower half of
his face in Derek's hair so that his words are muffled by the dark strands. "I
think my powers are still growing, by the way. When I was telling Scott off, I
was so angry at him that I, uh...may have accidentally thrown him across the
room just by looking at him..."
"That's...different," Derek replies, frowning. He's never heard of someone
doing something like that before. The closest instance he can think of is when
Jeremy was fighting with Landon, but that was more like him bringing forth a
harsh gust of wind with his hand than anything else.
Snorting into Derek's hair, Stiles smiles wryly before bringing his caressing
to a stop.
"Tell me about it..." he mumbles before sighing. "It was a little scary, to
tell you the truth. It's like my powers are growing faster than I can
comprehend, like before I've even mastered one aspect of it, another three show
up out of the blue. I guess Holly and Deaton weren't kidding when they said my
magic would probably grow to be strong." His wry smile turns into something
more positive when one of Derek's hands covers his, their fingers linking
together.
"You'll learn to control it eventually," Derek states with certainty. Tilting
his head up, he presses his lips to Stiles' chin and gets prickled slightly
because the teen hasn't shaved in a couple of days.
"I don't regret it, though," Stiles reveals when Derek returns to his previous
position. "The things he said to you... He needed a good kick up the ass, and I
was more than happy to be the one to give it to him. I've gotta look out for my
man, after all." When Derek growls up at him he tries to return the sound, but
it comes out more like a kitten being strangled than anything else. "Seriously,
though... I can't believe he thought you raped me, that you'd even be capable
of something like that. I love him, but Scott can be such a bullheaded idiot
sometimes, I swear..." This new incident reminds him of how the other boy used
to act those first few months after he was turned, when he harboured unprompted
hatred toward Derek even when the man had already more than proved himself as
trustworthy. So much for progress, he thinks sadly. "He's gonna have to do some
serious grovelling before I forgive him. Feel free to give him hell until I do,
by the way; I give you express permission to rough him up to your heart's
content."
Derek hums his assent, mumbling, "I'll keep that in mind," into Stiles' neck.
They lie there in silence for a while, neither one feeling the need to speak.
It's a good sign that they're already back to being in each other's company so
comfortably, and it's happened a lot faster than Stiles feared it would. The
realisation is uplifting.
"I got into contact with one of my mom's old friends while you were all at
school," Derek announces eventually.
Stiles snaps out of his thinking at this, the vibrations that seep back into
his body from his mate's low, rumbling voice making him shudder. He licks his
lips before glancing over at the time, his eyebrows raising on his forehead
when he sees that it's already been almost a full hour since his and Scott's
confrontation. The time has passed quickly, since it seems like less than half
of that to him. "Oh? Who are they?" he enquires, curious as always when it
comes to finding out new information about Derek's past.
"Her name is Sheila Morris. She's a therapist that works exclusively with
supernatural clients," Derek answers quietly, the tips of his ears already
tinged pink with embarrassment. "My mom used to make all of the family see her
from time to time to keep on top of everything whenever things got intense. I
never saw her much, but we had a couple of appointments just after the whole
'Paige' thing. It wasn't very helpful for anyone because I didn't want to tell
her what really happened. I haven't seen her since just after Landon killed
Jeremy, when she came over for an appointment that my mom set up for me. I
refused to come out of my room, so my mom stopped trying to get me to talk and
just wiped my memories when I asked." It was hard to track Sheila down because
she moved clear across the country shortly before the fire. The sound of shock
in her voice when he'd found her website and given her a call still brings a
smile to his face, but he can't say he blames her for never expecting to hear
from any Hale ever again.
"So...are you thinking of seeing her now?" Stiles asks carefully, thinking
secretly that it sounds like a wonderful idea.
Nodding, Derek pulls a piece of paper from his pocket that has the woman's name
and number scrawled across it. "Yeah, I am; through Skype," he replies equally
carefully, wanting Stiles' approval before he moves forward with the plan. His
heart beats faster as he waits for his mate's response.
"I think that'll be good for you," Stiles says after some thought, hugging
Derek a little tighter because he can sense the man's nervousness. He takes the
slip of paper from Derek's hand and reads over it carefully, committing the
number to memory. "Maybe I could see her at least once, too. I'm sure there's
still stuff I need to get out of my system from everything that's happened this
past year."
"I'll ask her next week," Derek promises.
"A supernatural therapist, huh? That's a strange concept..." Stiles muses
amusedly, having never heard of such a thing. "It makes sense, though, I guess.
I mean, after all the shit we've been through in just this past year and a half
and all the problems and issues we have because of it, there must be a demand
for this sort of thing, other people in the supernatural world who need or want
that sort of help. It's not like we can just go to any old therapist and spill
our guts without revealing a whole load of shit that'll either out everyone or
get us a one-way ticket to the nearest looney bin."
Derek holds himself still when he feels Stiles blindly fumble the paper back
inside his pocket.
"That reminds me! There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I kept
forgetting," Stiles exclaims suddenly, startling Derek. He apologises when he
feels the man's muscular body jolt atop his own. "Deputy Parrish stopped by the
day after...you know, and I might've told him about all of us."
He's quick to expand when Derek leans forward out of his grasp and turns to
stare at him over his shoulder, bewilderment painted clear across his handsome
features. "I didn't have a choice, I swear, or I never would've told him
without consulting you first! He walked in while Isaac was checking my stitches
and saw everything, and then came to the conclusion that you did it to me.
Which, yes, is true, but he thought it was intentional. He tried to take me
bodily out of the house before I got him to calm down and hear me out." He
blinks pleadingly at Derek while he waits for him to absorb his words, sighing
in relief when the man gives him one last narrow-eyed look before falling back
into position. The force of the impact knocks the air from his lungs, and he
wheezes loudly for a few seconds before recovering and twisting one of Derek's
nipples roughly through his thin Henley in retaliation. He gets great
satisfaction when the alpha squeals in pain, the sound high and distinctly
unmanly.
Rubbing at his chest, Derek glares up at Stiles before relenting and getting
comfortable again.
"He took it pretty well, I think," the teen carries on when Derek stays silent.
He presses a kiss to the man's temple in a silent apology. "He knows everything
now, and he's supposed to come over for dinner once this current threat is
dealt with. So play nice!"
"I always play nice," Derek replies haughtily, glancing over at the door when
he hears shuffling footsteps out in the hallway. "I think the betas want to
come in."
Looking up at the door as well, Stiles tightens his arms around Derek's body
like he's trying to stop something precious from being stolen away from him.
"Are you ready for that?" he asks, putting the decision completely in his
mate's hands even though he's unsure of the answer he'd give his question
himself. He recalls the shocked and half-afraid stares he'd been subject to
just an hour previous, feeling fear grip him this time as he wonders what the
pack's reactions will be to his uncontrolled display of power downstairs. When
Derek nods, though, he inhales deeply to bolster himself up before calling for
them to enter the room, hoping it'll all turn out fine.
The door bursts open and rebounds harshly against the wall as the betas pour
into the room.
When he spies the guilty look on Isaac's face and the way Erica elbows him in
the ribs, Stiles gets the distinct impression that the pair were trying to
eavesdrop on his and Derek's conversation before they were allowed entrance.
Everyone else is more reserved in their arrival, with Lydia and Jackson pulling
up the rear. The redhead shuts the door behind herself demurely before
smoothing down her skirt and turning to face the bed. "I trust you two managed
to work things out?" she asks confidently, having no doubt in her mind that
she's right. She gets a particularly smug smirk on her lips when Stiles
confirms her theory.
"Yes, we did," the boy replies, not missing the way Isaac and Erica practically
deflate at his words, all the tension and worry leaving their bodies following
his confirmation that Derek is fine. It still amuses him how the blonde acts
tough and like she doesn't really care that much about anything, but deep down
she's a total daddy's girl, with Derek as her pseudo father figure. It's not
that unusual, he doesn't think, given that Derek is her alpha and as a result
has an inherent authority over her and everyone else, but it seems especially
true in her case. Even though her own father is alive and well at home, Stiles
has always gotten the idea that Erica isn't that close with the man as a result
of years of overprotectiveness brought on by her epilepsy.
Isaac climbs onto the mattress and lies down next to Derek, a little further
down the bed so that his head comes to rest against the alpha's hip. He
practically purrs when a strong hand finds its way into his hair.
The rest of the pack all join the trio after that, Jackson somewhat
reluctantly.
Erica presses herself close to Derek's other side, flopping an arm across his
stomach just below Stiles', a position that Isaac soon copies in reverse. Danny
takes his place behind the curly-haired boy, with Boyd spooning the blonde.
Cora lays herself across Derek's legs, holding him in place while Lydia and
Jackson squeeze themselves onto the mattress behind Danny and Isaac. The
arrogant beta is in serious danger of slipping off onto the floor the entire
time.
Allison and Kira do the same behind Erica and Boyd, a little more tentatively
than the others as if they're not sure whether Scott's earlier outburst has
rendered them unwanted. A gentle smile from Stiles is enough to convince them
that they're still welcome, though. It feels a little strange to everyone with
one member missing, but Stiles knows that will work itself out soon enough. And
if it doesn't, they'll deal with it then. After all, it's not the first time
Scott has gone off the rails and done or said something stupid without thinking
it through first, and it unfortunately probably won't be the last. The fact
that none of the betas, nor Allison, Kira or Lydia, shy away from participating
in the impromptu puppy pile allows him and Derek to relax as well.
Stiles is relieved that no one seems scared of him anymore, and Derek takes
comfort in the fact that no one else in his pack has voiced an opinion of
blame.
The alpha still hasn't dealt completely with what happened, and he knows he
won't be in a position to move on from it completely for a long while yet, but
it feels nice to know that his pack is there for him in the mean time while he
figures it all out. With them and Stiles by his side, he knows there's nothing
he can't do.
                                     * * *
- Thursday, September 20th, 2012 -
Two days later, Melissa stops by the house first thing in the morning to take
out Stiles' stitches.
He's glad she chose to do it then instead of in the evening, when the rest of
the pack is bound to be around—the process would be unpleasant enough without
their prying eyes. Truthfully, if he had his way, not even Derek would be
there, but the man practically begged him, wanting to 'do things right' from
then on to make up for his perceived past indiscretions. After seeing his
wolf's pleading eyes, Stiles was powerless to deny him, relenting and deciding
that if it's what Derek needs to feel better, then he can put up with it for a
while. They're sat side by side on the sofa with Melissa perched on the coffee
table opposite, neither one of them wearing shirts, though his lack of one is
out of necessity and not choice like Derek's. As the woman is taking out her
tools, he picks up on the curious glances she keeps giving the two of them.
"What's the matter?" he asks just before she starts on the first line of
stitching, leaning back into the back of the sofa so that she has more space to
work.
Looking up at Stiles' face, Melissa shakes her head dismissively as she begins
snipping the sutures with practised hands. The first line is quick to
disappear, and she throws the thread away and runs a warm cloth down the new
scar before moving on to the second.
"C'mon, it's me; whatever it is, you know you can tell me," Stiles presses,
frowning.
Sighing, the woman stops working before she speaks. "It's just that Scott's
seemed kind of...off for the past couple of days, and I was wondering what
that's about," she explains, knowing she's on to something when Stiles'
expression shifts to one of realisation. "I tried to ask him if it had anything
to do with you since he hasn't been over here recently, but he refused to give
me an answer."
"Oh yeah... That," Stiles mumbles, averting his eyes when Melissa raises an
expectant eyebrow. "We had a kind of...falling out, I guess. He said some
things I didn't agree with and I let him know it."
"What sort of things?" Melissa enquires, genuinely curious. She doesn't let any
judgement creep into her voice; as much as she loves her son, she knows
firsthand that the boy has a tendency to let his mouth run away with him when
it would be better to keep it shut. It's gotten him into more trouble in the
past than she can keep track of, and it even reached the point when he was in
middle school where every time the phone rang, she just assumed it was someone
calling to inform her of another instance. Stiles used to accompany Scott in
his mischief more often than not back then, and both she and the late sheriff
were glad when they started to grow out of it. Recently, as a surrogate mother
figure, she's been quite proud of Stiles for maturing and growing up a lot,
even if it was brought about by less-than-ideal circumstances. Even though her
actual son has come a long way in his own right, she wishes Scott could take a
page out of his friend's book and get there faster.
When Stiles glances at him, Derek grants the boy permission to answer Melissa
with a simple nod.
"He basically just blamed Derek for everything that happened a couple of weeks
ago," the teen reveals unhappily, pursing his lips as he replays all of Scott's
hateful words in his head. "I think the clincher was when he accused him of
raping me."
Melissa gasps in shock, already planning on having a long and frank discussion
with her son the minute he gets back from school at the end of the day. "No
wonder you got mad at him; I would've, too..." she sympathises, shaking her
head as she picks her small scissors back up and moves on to the third line of
stitching on Stiles' torso. It's not long before she's finished with the fifth
and final line on one side and moves onto the other.
Derek watches all of her movements like a hawk, ready to intervene at the
smallest wince.
"Yeah... This has been a difficult enough time without him making it worse, so
I kicked him out and told him not to come back until he gives us both a sincere
apology," Stiles finishes off, hoping that it comes soon. Things are quite
awkward between everybody in the pack, and whenever he sees Scott in passing in
the halls at school, he doesn't like having to look away and ignore the other
boy. Lydia, Erica and Isaac all give Scott a lot of shit, and he remembers a
particularly bad incident that happened the previous morning, when Scott was
walking past to get to his locker and Erica stuck her leg out to trip him up.
Having never been that aware of his surroundings even with his heightened
senses, Scott of course fell flat on his face in front of about thirty other
students. The way his face flushed bright red was enough to make Stiles tell
Erica to lay off of the crooked-jawed beta. Allison and Kira are caught in the
middle of it all, but Stiles finds the fact that they have each other to lean
on until Scott gets his head out of his ass to be very comforting.
He's brought out of his thinking when Melissa tugs gently on one of the sutures
to release it from his skin. The area is abnormally sensitive because it's
freshly healed, so he fights to keep his face neutral when he feels the skin
pull, too. It's not pleasant, but it's nothing he can't handle.
Relaxed silence falls over the room after that.
After the last suture has been cut and cleaned, Stiles puts his sleep shirt
back on immediately and stands, returning Melissa's hug when her arms come
around his body. "He'll come around eventually, don't you worry," the woman
whispers in his ear, and he squeezes her extra hard to show his gratitude
before releasing her again and allowing her to put away all of her tools. He
looks over his shoulder and frowns when he sees that Derek has disappeared, but
a step back toward the foyer allows him to spy the wolf in the kitchen, his
back to the doorway.
"Let me know if you have any more problems, OK?" Melissa instructs as she
slings her medical bag over her shoulder. She feels amusement when she notices
just what has stolen Stiles' attention.
The teen blushes as he turns back to face the woman, the knowing smirk on her
face telling him clearly that she knows what had him so distracted. He couldn't
help it, though—the way the muscles of Derek's back shifted beneath his tanned
skin every time he moved would do that to anyone, he tells himself. "Yeah,
sure!" he rushes to respond, ignoring the resulting laughter he hears from the
kitchen.
He's obviously not as smooth as he likes to think.
After showing Melissa out, Stiles shuts the front door and heads upstairs to
get ready for school. He actually puts some effort into his clothing choices
when he's looking for something to wear in the dresser, and he ends up settling
on a deep maroon t-shirt and a snug pair of black jeans. Lydia would approve,
he muses on his way into the bathroom, nodding to himself. Because he didn't
have time to do it before Melissa showed up, he turns on the shower and steps
under the warm spray, tilting his head back and raising his arms high above his
head. To be able to move freely without fear of popping a stitch is a wonderful
feeling, and he takes a minute to stretch all of his limbs out good and proper
to make up for the couple of weeks in which he couldn't. The water is soothing
as it slides down over his skin on its way to the drain, making his movements
relaxed and unhurried as he cleans himself with soaped-up hands.
He ends up spending almost half an hour in the shower, a long time by his
standards.
Sliding the stall door open, Stiles steps out onto the tiled floor and dries
himself off quickly with a towel before shimmying into his underwear and jeans.
It's a tight fit because Lydia picked out the latter garment for him, but he
perseveres because he knows how much Derek likes the way they sculpt his ass to
perfection, like they were made specially to fit on his body like a glove. He
pauses after doing up the zip and button, staring at himself in the mirror on
the wall above the sink.
With a finger, he traces down one of his new, pink scars, frowning when he
notices that his paleness makes them stand out more than he was expecting.
He gets so caught up in his staring that he doesn't hear Derek approaching,
startling with a squeak when strong arms wrap around him from behind and a
beard-rough chin tucks over his shoulder. "Hey," he greets when his heart has
calmed down, unable to resist smiling back when he spots the smirk that
appeared on Derek's lips following his undignified noise of surprise.
It's feels good to see that infuriatingly smug expression again.
Derek pulls Stiles back until the teen is leaning against him, chest to back,
and nuzzles into his neck to breathe in his scent. The fetid smell of the
disinfectant wipes Melissa used to clean Stiles with has all but disappeared
following his shower, a discovery that pleases him greatly. The scent of the
cinnamon shower gel they've taken to sharing clings to the boy's skin now, but
unlike the wipes, it doesn't hurt his nose. Beneath all of that is Stiles'
natural scent, as addictive as ever, and he presses his nose right into the
space where neck meets shoulder and breathes deeply, his eyes almost rolling
back in his head because it's so potent and heady. His fingers trace back and
forth across Stiles' sides, and when he concentrates, he's able to detect the
scars without even looking, the smooth skin interrupted by narrow lines of
slightly raised scar tissue. He's relieved that the ugly black stitches are
gone and he can touch his mate freely.
Stepping back, he turns Stiles around with a hand on his arm and kneels down at
his feet, planning on examining the scars more closely. He spreads his fingers
out and runs both of his hands down the teen's sides, tracing down the paths
his claws made.
"Derek?" Stiles asks, confused. He rests his hands on the man's shoulders and
looks down at the top of his head, baffled by the sudden shift in mood.
Instead of answering the teen, Derek cups his hands around Stiles' hips and
leans forward, pressing his lips to the scars in a series of chaste kisses that
are like silent apologies. He's slowly accepting that there was nothing he
could've done to prevent making them in the first place, but he still feels the
need to make up for it regardless. Since Stiles won't accept any outright
apologies, he settles for the kisses, not stopping until he's run his lips
twice over every inch of pinked skin. Stiles' fingers rub soothingly across his
scalp, and he pushes up into the touch with a quiet groan after he reaches the
end of the tenth and last scar, his eyes fluttering open when the teen tilts
his head back.
"Soon enough, we won't even notice them anymore," Stiles assures softly,
smiling down at Derek's face with open affection. The alpha's lips running over
his skin never fails to ignite a fire in his gut and this time is no different,
but he holds himself still, willing his twitching cock to calm down so it
doesn't ruin the tender moment.
They stay stock-still with their eyes locked for almost a full minute before
Derek surges suddenly to his feet and ravages Stiles' mouth in a fierce and
passionate claim, one the teen is eager to reciprocate.
It's only when Stiles' phone chirps loudly that they spring apart.
Pulling the device from his pocket, the teen's eyes widen when he reads the
message displayed on the screen. It's from Lydia, wanting to know where he is.
The time at the top tells him that he's already five minutes late for his first
class. He must've gotten so caught up in his shower and his and Derek's
subsequent time together that he didn't realise just how much time was passing
by. Hastily locking the phone again and sliding it back in its home, he pecks
Derek once on his bearded cheek before rushing from the room, fumbling with his
shirt as he goes.
He's still yanking the material on over his head when he passes the dresser,
and he swears profusely when he accidentally walks right into its side and
stubs his toe.
Luckily, Derek is right behind him to keep him from toppling over, and he grins
gratefully at the man when he helps pull the shirt down into place and smooth
out the fabric, his head popping through the neck. "Thanks, Sourwolf," he says,
paying no mind to the alpha's mumblings about not being able to leave him alone
without his hurting himself as he scurries out into the hallway and down the
stairs. He finds his school bag right where he left it the previous evening,
leaning against the wall next to the front door, so he slips his shoes on,
grabs it and his keys and heads outside before any more time can pass. His
first class is probably already a lost cause—he hopes he can bribe Lydia into
sharing her notes again—so he doesn't drive any faster than he normally would
to try and catch the tail end of it. The rumbling of his stomach as he parks in
the only empty space in the lot, right at the back, reminds him that he didn't
have an breakfast before leaving.
He definitely regrets that misstep now, and he knows that the hours won't be
quick to pass as he waits for the lunch period in the afternoon. Shrugging it
off, he grabs his bag before walking with a relaxed gait through the main
building's doors, another quick look at his phone telling him that he has ten
minutes to spare before second period begins.
                                     * * *
The lunch bell finally ringing is like music to Stiles' ears.
He joins the flood of students waiting in line for food and licks his lips in
anticipation—his hunger makes all of the dishes he would normally find
disgusting seem as appetising as the richest chocolate cake. Isaac and Danny
are stood in front of him, and he listens inattentively to their conversation
as he loads up his tray with twice the amount of food he usually takes. The
look on the lunch lady's face when he pays is priceless, so much so that he
can't help chuckling to himself as he walks away and follows the two gossipping
betas to their lunch table.
Everyone else is already there, barring Scott, so he sits in between Lydia and
the seat he always reserves now for Charlie and begins eating with gusto,
demolishing his food at such an alarming rate that even the wolves look at him
with concern. "What?" he manages to get out around a mouthful of chicken. He
swallows before giving his excuse:
"I didn't have breakfast this morning. Sue me."
Lydia turns away from Stiles in disgust, quickly getting absorbed again in her
discussion with Erica. They're sharing makeup tips, and after she finishes
giving the blonde unwanted advice on how to better apply her eyeliner, she
brings her fork up to her mouth to make a start on her own lunch. Chewing her
pasta salad, she grimaces when she finds a hair in it and pulls it out to
reveal it's one of her own, long and coloured strawberry blonde, as Stiles
would say. Thinking nothing of it, she drops it to the floor and continues,
stabbing another quill of pasta with her fork when her scalp suddenly starts
itching all over. A frown appears on her face because it's not a common
occurrence for her and it came on without any warning. Dropping the utensil
with a clatter on the tabletop and sticking her fingers in her hair, she
laments the fact that she's probably destroying the meticulous job she did of
styling it that morning, her gentle waves getting messed up as she scratches at
her scalp with increasing fervency.
Erica watches with a curiously raised eyebrow, as do the rest of the pack when
Lydia makes a noise of distress. The itching disappears again as quickly as it
came on, and after a few seconds of waiting to make sure it's truly gone, she
takes her hands out of her hair with a long breath.
"That was weird..." she mutters, not noticing that anything is amiss until she
spies Erica staring down at her hands with shocked eyes.
Her mouth drops open when she sees what has the beta so wide-eyed. Many chunks
of her hair are twined around her fingers, tangled together. "What the fuck?!"
she screeches, so loudly that everybody in the room turns to see what the
commotion is about. She knows she didn't pull the clumps of hair out
accidentally and there are too many of them to have fallen out on their own, so
she rushes to grab her compact from her bag, flipping it open and looking at
herself in the reflection.
Large parts of her scalp are visible when she pulls her hair back to get a
closer look.
Stiles stares at Lydia disbelievingly. It's a little frightening to see the
hair he admired from afar for years falling out before his eyes, and he wonders
whether it's the work of another one of their mystery attacker's curses. It's
the only answer that seems plausible given that Lydia is far too young to have
her hair falling out, and it's happening faster that it would if she wasn't.
Even as he thinks that, more of the girl's silken locks fall, tumbling down her
shoulders to the dirty floor. Lydia appears to finally notice that she has a
rather sizeable audience a few seconds later, and she leaps to her feet,
tugging Erica's jacket forcefully from the back of the blonde's chair and
throwing it over her head. Stiles watches as she runs from the room, flying
right past an approaching Charlie and leaving a trail of yet more hair in her
wake. Jackson, Allison and Erica all hasten to follow the banshee, leaving
their food forgotten on the table, and as they leave, Stiles' eyes come to rest
on his newest friend, stopping him from leaving the table himself just yet.
Charlie stares after Lydia with the most peculiar expression on her face. He
wouldn't hesitate to call it fear, but that doesn't make any sense to him. When
the girl turns abruptly and walks away without so much as a word, he stands to
keep her in his sights and sees her throw her uneaten lunch in the bin.
Before she leaves the room, Charlie looks back over her shoulder and their eyes
meet.
The way the girl bites at her lip and averts her eyes almost guiltily only
furthers Stiles' confusion. When she's gone, he blinks once and realises the
commotion that's going on around him. Loud discussions are echoing throughout
the room, the other students all talking about what they just witnessed and
putting forth theories and explanations that get more and more wild as they go
on. Leaving his own lunch half-eaten, Stiles picks up his bag and finally goes
to track down Lydia himself, asking Isaac to clean up the mess the girl left
behind to save her the embarrassment.
He finds that he can use the trail of red hair as a guide of sorts, and he
shakes his head when he comes across a couple of other boys who have crouched
down low to the ground in order to get a closer look. They prod at the clumps
curiously and whisper.
The trail ends outside the door to the girls' bathroom nearest the cafeteria.
Jackson stands guard outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed
and a sullen look on his chiselled face. He's pissed that Erica shot him down
when he tried to follow her and Allison into the girls' room, the blonde
getting right up in his face and growling that he'd better stay out unless he
wanted to be made into a eunuch. After that, he'd allowed the door to be shut
in his face, the lock sliding home audibly right afterward, and he's been stood
outside listening to everything being said within ever since. When he senses
Stiles coming his way, Jackson raises his eyes and glares at the human boy
suspiciously. "What do you want, Stilinski?" he demands, stepping away from the
wall and forming a blockade of sorts in front of the door.
"I wanted to see how Lydia was doing," Stiles replies calmly, years of
experience with brushing off Jackson's bad attitude giving him the patience to
deal with the prickly beta.
"Well, tough; Erica won't let anybody in, so you're shit outta luck," Jackson
informs Stiles smugly, getting pleasure out of denying the other boy something
he wants. It's something he sadly doesn't get to do very often as of late, not
with Derek breathing down his neck like the whipped alpha he is every time he
so much as says one bad word to or about his mate. He supposes he can't really
comment on how much Derek follows Stiles' every order and caters to his every
whim since he's the exact same way when it comes to Lydia. Still, he can't help
but roll his eyes whenever Derek trails after Stiles like a whipped puppy. It
seems a little pathetic to him.
Shouldering Jackson out of the way, Stiles knocks on the door and calls Erica's
name.
"That's not going to work," Jackson singsongs, leaning against the wall again
and settling in to watch. He splutters, affronted, when the door is
subsequently ripped open and a red-nailed hand reaches through to latch on to
the front Stiles' shirt, pulling him through. "Hey! How come I wasn't allowed
in?!"
Erica lets go of Stiles abruptly, the momentum sending him stumbling further
into he room, and sticks her head out into the hall to look Jackson in the eye.
"Because Lydia's not sleeping with him," she answers, exasperation clear in her
voice as if she thought the answer was obvious. She pays to mind to the words
Jackson spits back at her and just slams the door again before turning to face
the room. Stiles is sprawled in an undignified position on the floor, on his
knees with his cheek smashed against the cool linoleum, ass high in the air.
She kicks him unceremoniously over onto his side as she walks past and comes to
a stop next to Allison outside one of the stalls. Lydia is still refusing to
come out, and she can hear the other girl trying to keep her crying quiet. With
her werewolf senses, though, it's pointless—she can easily detect the salty
tang of tears, which is so heavy in the air that it actually overpowers the
chemical smell of whatever cleaning products are used by the janitors.
"Come on, Lyds, just come out already! We're tired of waiting!" she demands
impatiently.
Before Stiles gets to his feet again, he spies a few small piles of strawberry
blonde hair on the floor through the small gap at the bottom of the stall door.
Lydia's heels are also in view. Rubbing at his cheek, he glares at the back of
Erica's head for the manhandling before shaking his own and pushing her out of
the way. He knows that the best way to get Lydia to do anything is definitely
not to get annoyed with her, so he holds a finger to Erica's lips when she goes
to ask what he thinks he's doing.
Letting herself be shushed for once, the blonde swipes at Stiles' hand with a
snarl and grins evilly when her lipstick rubs off on the pad of the boy's
finger, staining the calloused skin cherry red. After that, she graciously
steps back to allow him more space to work his magic.
Quickly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall next to the
sinks, Stiles uses it to wipe off the lipstick and balls it up before tossing
it in the direction of the bin. It bounces off of the rim and skitters away
across the floor. Shrugging, he turns back to the locked stall door and knocks
gently on its smooth surface. "Lydia? It's Stiles," he calls needlessly, very
much aware that Erica and Allison are watching him closely. "Can you open the
door so we can see what's wrong? Please? If you're worried about people seeing
you, it's only us four in here, and I've got Isaac on cleaning duty so that no
one else finds out about it." After ten seconds of waiting, he steps back again
with a triumphant smile when he hears the lock slide open. He waggles his
eyebrows and sticks his tongue out at Erica when the girl rolls his eyes and
scoffs at him.
Lydia steps cautiously out into the main area, still clutching Erica's jacket
to her head.
"That bad, huh?" Stiles asks sympathetically, walking around the girl so that
their positions are reversed and she doesn't have to look at herself in the
mirror. Her cheeks are streaked with black from her mascara running and her
eyes are bloodshot. Overall, she makes a pretty pitiable picture. He gets her
to perch on the edge of the counter while he cleans the ruined makeup from her
face with a wipe that Allison hands him.
When it's all cleaned off with one last sniffle, he tosses the soiled wipe in
the bin and actually makes the shot this time. He resists the urge to raise his
fist in victory out of deference to the sombre mood of the room and turns back
to Lydia. Reaching up, he takes the collar of Erica's jacket in his hand.
"Can I?" he asks softly, prepared to take his hand back if she says 'no'. He's
pleased when she nods instead, and when the garment is returned to its owner,
he keeps his face carefully blank as he takes in the sight before him.
Absolutely all of the gorgeous hair on Lydia's head is gone, leaving behind
nothing but the smooth, pale skin of her scalp. In any other situation, he
would be tempted to run his palm over it, curious about how it felt. "OK...this
is definitely a problem." Right as he finishes speaking, the door cracks open
and what he recognises as Isaac's hand reaches through the gap, holding a clear
plastic bag. It's filled with the hair he managed to collect from the cafeteria
and hallway floors. Stiles rushes over to take it from the beta, thanking him
as the door slips shut again and venturing over to the stall Lydia was hiding
in to check whether the hair there is also salvageable. Luckily, the linoleum
looks clean, so he adds all he finds to the bag before sealing it up and
handing it off to the banshee.
"'A problem' is a bit of an understatement..." Lydia grumbles, staring down at
the bag now in her lap.
Wanting to cheer the girl up, Stiles quickly thinks of a solution he thinks
could work. "Maybe you can get that made into a wig or something while you wait
for your hair to grow back," he offers, counting it as a win when Lydia doesn't
immediately shoot the suggestion down.
"I guess it's not the worst idea you've ever had..." the banshee responds,
wondering what her mother will think of this new development. It's going to be
fun explaining this to her, she thinks. "Either way, I'm not leaving this room
until lunch is over; there's no way I'm letting anyone else see me like this. I
have a reputation to uphold and this is not in keeping with that. Can you help
me to my car after the bell rings?" She looks pleadingly up at Stiles and feels
relief when he accepts.
"I'm gonna go get your things, OK?" Allison interjects, uncrossing her arms.
She guesses she's not really needed there anyway, so she might as well make
herself useful elsewhere.
While he waits for the huntress to return, Stiles picks his backpack up from
where he'd dropped it when Erica yanked him into the room and sets it on the
countertop next to Lydia. Rifling through it, he comes up with a bar of
Hershey's chocolate that he was saving for a special occasion and offers it to
the redhead. After Lydia breaks off a square and hands the packet back, he
breaks off his own and sticks it in his mouth, sucking on it and letting it
melt on his tongue. Erica snatches the bar from his hand before he can offer
her any, but he doesn't comment on it. A minute later, the door opens again and
Allison steps back inside. The brunette hands Lydia her bag before announcing
that she and Kira are going to go track down Scott to try and get him to see
the error of his ways.
"Good luck," Stiles says before she leaves, the sentiment completely genuine.
He hopes that maybe Allison can tap into the old Scott, the boy who would do
anything she said.
                                     * * *
As promised, Stiles escorts Lydia to the parking lot just after the lunch bell
rings.
They make a ridiculous pair, him carrying two people's things and her walking
briskly with Jackson's jacket over her head, hiding her baldness. She also has
the bag containing her hair clutched in one hand, and it flops about stupidly
with every speedy footstep until they come to stop next to the banshee's car.
She unlocks it while Stiles keeps watch, making sure no one sees her.
When Lydia is comfortably sat behind the steering wheel, he tosses her things
gently into the passenger seat and closes the door, patting the roof as he
steps back to let her know she's good to go.
He watches her drive off before heading back into the school building, ready to
take his licks for being late to his next period, Economics with Coach
Finstock. He's surprised when, after the man finally finishes yelling at him
for five full minutes, he turns to take a seat and finds Charlie sat right next
to the only empty desk in the room. Quickly getting over his shock when
Finstock yells his name again and snaps him out of it, he hastens to sit down
and get out his things, ready for an hour of the coach's unusual and
occasionally entertaining teaching methods. He sees a transfer slip sticking
out of one of Charlie's books, offering an explanation for her sudden presence
in the class. The time passes quickly, and before he knows it he's putting his
books back inside his backpack and following the girl out of the room. He has
to power walk to catch up with her when she begins wandering off without
waiting for him, and when she's within touching distance, he taps her on the
shoulder to get her attention. "Hey, what's the rush?" he enquires when she
reluctantly slows her gait. "There a fire of something?"
"Uh...no?" Charlie responds confusedly, blinking. They stand there in awkward
silence for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to break it. Eventually,
she shakes her head and begins walking in the direction of the library, Stiles
falling in step next to her. "I have a free period and I just wanted to make
the most of it; I've got a lot of studying to do... This year is really kicking
my ass."
"Well, I don't have a class right now, either, so we can be study buddies!"
Stiles declares excitedly.
Charlie's steps falter briefly. "Yeah, sure..." she accepts as they near the
double doors to the library. The place is almost deserted when they enter, so
they have free choice of tables. She opts for one in the furthest corner, away
from the librarian's desk.
Once they've both gotten settled, Charlie taking off her hot pink jacket and
draping it over the back of her chair, Stiles cracks open one of the notebooks
Lydia has lent him—the redhead was gracious enough to make copies of her own
notes during the two weeks he was mentally checked out—and begins reading
through them. They start off with English, and they're exactly as complex and
meticulous as he was expecting. It takes him quite a while to wade through it
all, and even longer to actually understand any of it. He must have missed more
than he thought because the notes talk about things he doesn't even remember
being mentioned as coming up. A knot forms in his stomach when he considers the
possibility of failing the class.
He really doesn't want that to happen; graduating with the rest of the pack
sounds too good.
It wasn't very responsible of him to toss all of his work aside during the time
Derek was missing, no matter how distressed he felt throughout it all, and he
deeply regrets doing so the more he thinks of all the things he has still to
catch up on. There's only so much Lydia's notes can give him, so he promises
himself that he'll make more of an effort in the future. When he turns the last
page covering English, he stretches his arms above his head and shuffles around
in his chair. His ass went numb long ago from being sat still for so long, so a
change in position provides much relief. When he lowers his arms again and
moves on to the next subject covered in the notebook—he wants to give up
already when he sees that it's Math, the sample equations on the page looking
like gibberish—he finally notices that Charlie keeps flicking her eyes up in
his direction every few seconds, watching him carefully and almost nervously.
"Something on your mind?" he asks after the third time he catches her, staring
at her in bewilderment when she almost leaps out of her seat in surprise. He
waits patiently while she collects herself again, leaning over the arm of her
chair to retrieve the calculator she knocked to the floor.
He sees the librarian glaring at them out of the corner of his eye but ignores
her.
Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Charlie sets the calculator down in its
place again before answering. "It's nothing, really," she starts, not meeting
Stiles' eyes. "I was just wondering how Lydia's doing. I mean, what happened in
the cafeteria was really freaky; I've never seen anything like it, and she
rushed out of there pretty quick, y'know?" She seems like she's scrambling for
words.
"Oh, that. She'll be OK; don't worry," Stiles dismisses quickly, hoping the
girl doesn't ask for an explanation. He doesn't have one that even sounds
plausible.
When Charlie just nods and accepts his pathetic response, he frowns, getting
the distinct impression that he's missing something obvious. He looks back over
the last couple of weeks—or what little he remembers of it—and finds that every
time he and Charlie were together outside of a classroom setting, she made an
excuse to leave within a few minutes. It's possible that she just felt awkward
being around him when he was in that depressed zombie-like state, but something
inside of him is telling him that the reason for her odd behaviour is something
else entirely.
Standing Lydia's notepad up on the table, he observes Charlie as subtly as he
can over the top of it.
The girl never seems to truly relax, remaining tense and squirming about in her
seat the entire time. He wonders if he accidentally said something he shouldn't
have when he wasn't himself that is causing her to act this way around him. The
redhead clearly wants to be elsewhere, away from him, and he can't help but
feel a little hurt because he thought they were becoming good friends. Right as
he's finished gathering the courage to broach the subject, the bell rings,
indicating that it's time for them both to get to their last classes of the
day. The relief that flashes across Charlie's face when she hears it isn't
concealed fast enough for him to miss it, and when she scrambles to put away
all of her things, she moves so fast that she looks almost like a blur. He's
much slower about gathering up his own books and notes, and he's only just
standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder when Charlie dashes from
the library without looking at him.
She offers a slightly manic-sounding, "See you later!" before she disappears
through the doors, and Stiles is left there staring after her, dumbfounded.
Readjusting the strap of his backpack so that it doesn't dig into his shoulder
so painfully, he shakes the weirdness off and begins walking to his final
class, only to stop again when he steps on something.
Looking down, he sees a cell phone lying on the flat-carpeted library floor.
Crouching low to pick it up, Stiles looks over the device and finds a bold,
pink letter 'C' printed on the back of the black case. Charlie must've dropped
it in her hurry to get out of here, he muses, pocketing the phone to give back
the next time he sees her.
                                     * * *
As he's walking down the school's front steps, on his way to his car to go
home, Stiles spots Allison and Scott talking heatedly several feet along the
sidewalk. Whatever the huntress is saying apparently falls on deaf ears,
because when Stiles gets within earshot, all Scott does in response is scoff
and storm off. The beta pauses when he sees him standing there, and their eyes
lock awkwardly for a few seconds before Scott shakes his head and continues on
his way, leaving him and Allison alone.
The girl stares sadly after her boyfriend, and Stiles feels so bad for her that
he closes the distance between them and slings a consoling arm around her
shoulders, shaking her gently.
"It'll be fine, Ali," he assures, giving her a squeeze. "Just give him some
space to think. As mad as I still am at Scott, I also know him better than
anyone; it'll take him some time, but he'll realise what he said was wrong
eventually if we just leave him to it. Then we can work at mending all of our
relationships, OK?" He doesn't release her until she accepts his pep talk, a
grateful smile forming on her lips. After thanking him, she leaves for her own
home, meaning Stiles can continue on his trek across the parking lot to his
car. There's a lot of stopping and starting as he manoeuvres between all of the
other vehicles also looking to leave, but he makes it out eventually and takes
the fastest route back to his and Derek's house. The alpha's black car is in
its usual spot when he pulls to a stop outside, letting Stiles know that his
mate his home, something for which he is glad. He still has to inform Derek off
all the things that occurred that day.
"Honey, I'm home!" he calls as he walks in the door, kicking his shoes off
carelessly. When Derek appears suddenly right next to him, he almost jumps out
of his skin, clutching weakly at his chest as he waits for the shock to wear
off. Once it has, he punches the man none too gently on the arm for scaring him
deliberately.
Derek leads Stiles through to the living room and pushes him down on the sofa
before taking the seat next to him and settling in.
"How was your day, sweetheart?" he asks when Stiles' heart has slowed again,
playing along with the teen's earlier greeting. He feels slightly stupid
letting those words actually escape out of his mouth, but the way Stiles' face
lights up in response makes it worth the humiliation. He obligingly wraps an
arm around his mate when the boy leans into his body, playing with his hair
when Stiles pushes up into his hand.
Humming in contentment, Stiles quietly begins recounting everything that went
down at school, from what happened to Lydia at lunch to the odd interaction he
had with Charlie in the library.
"So Lydia is bald now? That's...unusual," Derek says thoughtfully when Stiles
has finished speaking. He knows how important hair is to the girl, but he can't
help but find the whole thing a little funny. He wishes he was there to witness
it and then immediately feels bad for it, guessing that the loss of her hair
must have been a sincere fear of Lydia's for it to happen if it was caused by
another curse. It's the most likely explanation. "I bet that was a sight to
behold." Leaning forward briefly to grab the remote from the coffee table, he
switches on the television to provide some background noise, finding that the
house is too quiet for his liking. When Stiles makes grabby hands for the
remote, he allows the teen to take it, a decision he immediately regrets when
he hears the familiar theme song for Friends begin to play. He groans into his
free hand.
"Don't even start, Sourwolf... I know you're warming up to it," Stiles points
out cheerily, nuzzling the underside of Derek's jaw to bring him around. "Plus,
we're only halfway through the third season; there are still seven more for us
to get through!"
***** Reconciliation *****
- Saturday, September 22nd, 2012 -
Lydia doesn't show up at school the following day. The reason is obvious to
everyone, but the fact that she seems to disappear completely—not even Jackson
is able to get into contact with her—is cause for concern in Stiles' eyes.
Luckily, he doesn't have to worry for long because she reappears at the house
bright and early on Saturday. The doorbell rings when he's still relaxed in
bed, comfortably ensconced in Derek's arms, and as a result it's a real battle
to find the motivation to move. His eyes want to slip closed again every time
he manages to open them, but when the bell rings a second and third time in
quick succession, he sighs and pries Derek's arm from around his waist, sliding
across the mattress and out into the cold a second later. In reality, the room
is reasonably warm, but a full night of sleeping with an alpha werewolf pressed
up against his back makes it feel freezing by comparison. He's quiet as he
dresses and tiptoes out into the hall, not wanting to wake Derek prematurely.
When he actually manages to get to the ground floor and open the door, Stiles
gets a shock when he sees Lydia standing on the other side. It's like nothing
ever happened, all of her hair remaining firmly attached to her head as she
waltzes past and walks casually into the kitchen.
Snapping out of his daze, Stiles shuts the door again before following. "Uh,
Lyds?"
"I took the suggestion you made a couple of days ago and ran with it," Lydia
responds easily, correctly guessing what Stiles wanted to ask her. When she
sees the boy's bewildered expression, she smirks around the spoon she's using
to eat a pot of plain yoghurt she took from the fridge and consumes another
spoonful before continuing. "You were expecting it to take longer, I assume?"
"You could say that..." Stiles answers, switching on the coffee pot and waiting
for it to work its magic. He can already feel that he'll be needing a lot of
the stuff to get through the day, and Derek will no doubt want a mug as soon as
he emerges from their bedroom later on, too. They don't have anything
planned—Derek will probably shut himself away in his study for a while to get
some work done, but other than that, the day is wide open. While he's waiting,
he sticks a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, getting some raspberry
jam out of the fridge to spread on them once the appliance spits them back out.
It's not the most exciting breakfast he's ever made, but it'll do. He's not
awake enough yet to consider doing anything more complicated, but that'll
probably have changed by the time Derek is up and sniffing around for his own
food.
Scraping the bottom of her yoghurt pot to get the last of it, Lydia washes it
out before tossing it in the recycling and dropping the spoon in the sink.
"I got my mom to take me to this speciality wig maker in L.A. right after I
left school. It was expensive, but he got it done fast," she explains happily,
stepping closer to Stiles and pointing at the top of her forehead, where the
edge of the lace-front is just barely visible.
"Oh, cool," Stiles comments, nodding his approval. The wig is so well made that
he never would've been able to tell that she's wearing one at all had she not
pointed it out to him. Just then, the toaster dings and produces his two slices
of toast, so he retrieves a plate from the cupboard and takes them out quickly,
sucking his index finger into his mouth when he nearly burns it. He seems to
have timed things perfectly, because as soon as he finishes spreading the jam,
the coffee pot also dings, and a minute later he's walking into the living room
and taking a seat on the sofa.
Lydia opts for one of the armchairs.
After sitting through a rerun of The Big Bang Theory, she remembers the real
reason she came over so early, slapping herself on the forehead for forgetting
in the first place. From her pocket she produces a resealable plastic bag and
tosses it in Stiles' direction, giggling when he fumbles to catch it and spills
the last of his coffee down his front.
"Oops...my bad!" she says when her laughter tapers off, not feeling sorry at
all. It might be a different story if the boy was wearing a different shirt,
but as it is, she doesn't feel bad about accidentally causing him to stain the
hideous graphic tee he currently sports. Nevertheless, when Stiles glares at
her, she holds her hands up in defeat and goes to get a couple of paper towels
from the kitchen on his instruction, watching as he dabs at the stain and tries
to stop it from spreading. After he gives up and inspects the contents of the
small plastic bag more closely, she explains what's inside it when he stares up
at her in confusion. "It's a hair that I found with Derek's old necklace. It
was tangled up in the chain, and I'm guessing it belonged to whoever is doing
this to us. I thought you might be able to use it in a locator spell or
something—I remember coming across one when I was perusing the collection of
books you have on the third floor."
"I can try," Stiles agrees, switching off the television again and going up the
library to search for the aforementioned spell.
It doesn't take long for him to find it, inside the thickest and oldest-looking
book Deaton gave him. He takes out his phone and makes a list of the
ingredients and all the steps he'll need to follow, reading it all meticulously
several times over to make sure he understands everything.
He has none of the required items in the house, so after changing his shirt and
leaving a note on Derek's pillow so that the man doesn't worry about where he's
gone, he gets back downstairs to find Lydia preparing to leave. He asks the
girl if she feels like accompanying him on a trip to the veterinary clinic, and
a minute later, the pair are climbing into the banshee's car and setting off.
The trip to the clinic reminds Stiles that Deaton is still missing—with
everything that's been going on in his life, he completely forgot.
By the time Lydia has parked the car outside the building, he's come to the
conclusion that he'll try and use the spell a second time to find the man if
the first attempt is successful.
Instead of using the back lot like she normally would do, Stiles is a little
confused when he looks out of his window and finds that they're parked in front
of the main entrance. There are no other cars around, the other spaces all
empty. It makes the place feel desolate and abandoned, unsettling. "Why are we
parked round here?" he asks Lydia as he gets out of the car and follows her to
the double doors. He doesn't get a verbal answer; instead, the girl points to a
sign that is stuck to the inside of the glass—'Due to an unexpected family
emergency, I've had to go out of town for an undetermined amount of time. I
suggest that anybody who requires my services finds and makes use of the clinic
in the nearest town until I return. I apologise sincerely for any inconvenience
this may cause, and for the short notice.' It's signed Alan Deaton. "Who's idea
was this?"
"Scott's," Lydia answers, pulling a key out of her pocket and unlocking the
door.
Everything seems normal in the waiting room, but the illusion doesn't last
long. Stiles hears the sound of something being knocked over coming from the
back room, quickly followed by quiet cursing, so he concentrates and gets his
powers ready in case he has to use them.
Lydia pushes him impatiently when he doesn't immediately move to investigate,
so after glaring back at her over his shoulder, he steps through the doorway
despite it not really feeling safe. Turning the corner, he finds the room in
complete disarray, with someone crouched down on the floor as they root through
one of the cupboards below the countertops. Their head is hidden from view,
meaning he can't identify them. "Hello?" he calls cautiously as he takes
another step.
The person under the counter swears loudly when they bump their head against
the top of the cupboard, startled by his voice.
As they crawl backward out into the open and he gets a good look at them,
Stiles lets his powers recede when he sees that it's just Holly, his palms
losing the faint orange glow the precedes his fire. He sees shock and suspicion
pass across her face briefly before the pain must kick in and she reaches up to
the back of her head and winces. Quickly moving forward, he helps her up from
the floor. She's another person he hasn't seen in a while—almost a full month,
in fact, since their last training session when he guesses Deaton first
vanished. He'd actually forgotten she was even in town. Her clothes look
unwashed and her hair is like a bird's nest on top of her head. He's a little
surprised when he doesn't see twigs. "Sorry about scaring you..." he says as he
gets her a stool. "What are you doing here, anyway? You've made a pretty big
mess of the place."
"I was trying to find a clue about where Deaton's gone," Holly answers, still
rubbing at the back of her head. "I haven't heard from him since the day before
our last session, and I'm running out of options. I was hunting around in here
in case he left something that'll help me."
"Oh, that's...good," Stiles says lamely after a second, blinking and looking
around the room again, this time with more focus. It certainly seems as though
Holly has been thorough—absolutely all of the cupboards have been emptied, with
their contents strewn across the countertops. Jars and boxes and books are
piled and mixed up. He can't help thinking that Deaton is probably going to be
mad whenever he gets back or they rescue him and he sees the state of his back
room.
Lydia hops up on the edge of the examination table, already checked out of the
current conversation.
"Why are you here?" Holly asks, returning Stiles' question. "Did he have
another training session set up in advance or something that he neglected to
tell me about?" Her head has stopped throbbing by this point, so she rests both
hands in her lap.
Shaking his head, Stiles takes his phone from his jeans pocket and scrolls
through the list of ingredients he typed down earlier, making a slow circuit of
the room and picking out everything he needs. It takes longer than he was
expecting because nothing is in its rightful place anymore. "Nope. You've
probably been out of the loop—which, again, sorry—but there's someone new in
town messing with us, and it's lead to some very unpleasant stuff," he
explains, lining everything up next to Lydia on the examination table. He puts
it in order from what he'll need first to what he won't need until the end of
the spell. The resealable bag containing the long blonde hair goes in front of
it all, in clear view. "Lydia found this in the preserve, tangled up with
something of Derek's, which is what we think was used to curse him. It probably
belonged to whoever is doing this to us, so I was going to have a go at casting
a locator spell so we can put an end to it all already..."
Getting up from her stool, Holly takes Stiles' phone to get a look at which
spell he's using. "I know this; if you want, I can help so there aren't any
mistakes made," she offers, handing the phone back. She's pleased when he
accepts, and within the next couple of minutes, they have all the tools they'll
need lined up behind the ingredients.
"OK, let's do this!" Stiles cheers, putting forth a positive attitude.
"That's a lot of stuff," Lydia comments offhandedly. She had to vacate her seat
on the table to make room for it all, something she wasn't very happy about,
and she now sits and watches from the stool on which Holly was sitting
previously.
"It's a complex spell," Holly replies before positioning two pillar candles
either side of a large wooden bowl and instructing Stiles to light the wicks.
One by one, she and Stiles tip the ingredients into the bowl with some purified
water, pausing every now and then so he can mutter the small incantations the
spell requires. Lastly, she unfolds a map of of the town and lays it behind the
bowl. "If this works, when you tip the potion onto here, it'll reveal the
location of your enemy by leaving that area uncovered."
The final thing to go in the bowl is the hair. Stiles upends the plastic bag
and taps a couple of times on the bottom to get it fall into the mixture,
recoiling and coughing when, as soon as it makes contact, it releases a large
puff of purple smoke right in his face. "Motherfucker!" he chokes, gratefully
taking the glass of water Lydia hastily gets for him and downing a third of it
in one swallow. "That stuff is awful..." He wipes the moisture from his eyes
and sticks his tongue out ridiculously as if the air will get rid of the taste,
pouting when it doesn't work. Holly's impatient face swims into view as his
eyes dry, and he clears his throat awkwardly before refocusing on the task at
hand. After she inspects the potion and deems it complete, he takes the bowl
carefully in his hands and tips it slowly onto the map as per her earlier
instruction, starting right in the centre of town. The thick liquid spreads
gradually out across all the lines and small letters until it covers every
inch. He looks down at it, frowning.
"Did it not work?" he asks, not seeing a point anywhere on the map that's been
left uncovered.
"Give it time. These things don't always work right away," Holly placates,
keeping her own eyes on the map, too. After a whole minute passes without
anything changing, she hums thoughtfully before making a start at clearing
everything up.
Having been so sure that the spell would be the answer to all of their
problems, it not working fills Stiles with immense disappointment. Even though
both Holly and Lydia assure him that it's not the case when he voices the
thought, he feels like it's a failure on his part, like he wasn't strong enough
to pull it off. He appreciates the comforting words, though.
Sighing, he wonders how he's going to clean the map off and dispose of the
potion without spilling it all over the floor. He doesn't come up with a
solution, so he figures he might as well just get it over with. Stepping around
the table, he grabs hold of two of the map's sides and lifts, his mouth
dropping open in an 'O' when he finds that it's solid. The potion has
completely fused with the paper and turned hard, making it like a piece of
poster board. "Well, I guess this is ruined..." he mutters under his breath,
breaking it into pieces and tossing them in the bin.
"We'll find them another way," Lydia announces with feigned certainty, sensing
Stiles' mood.
"I hope you're right..." the boy responds, washing his hands in the sink before
helping Holly tidy everything away. It's not too easy to put everything back
where it belongs, but Deaton luckily has all of the cupboard shelves labelled
with tiny pieces of paper and tape.
When the last jar is put away and the cupboards are closed, Stiles stands back
up this full height and prepares to leave. There's no point in sticking around
the place when he has no use for it. "You ready to go?" he asks Lydia, already
walking toward the waiting room. The clicking of her heels lets him know that
she's following, and he holds the door open for her so she can step through it
without getting hit in the face. Holly brings up the rear, and he and Lydia
wave goodbye to her when she announces that she's going to try and pursue other
methods of finding her missing friend. After Lydia locks the clinic back up and
they're sat once more in her car, he stays silent for most of the drive back to
his and Derek's house, only opening his mouth when the girl turns onto the road
that leads up to the place. "I hope Deaton's OK... Knowing this town, I bet
something's abducted him or something. There seems to have been a whole lot of
that this year. These villains should try being more original."
"Yes, well...let's not give up hope just yet, hmm?" Lydia says as she comes to
a stop next to Stiles' blue Camaro. While they were gone, Jackson's silver
Porsche and Danny's red convertible have appeared, both parked on the other
side of Derek's own black Camaro. She prepares herself for more comments about
her wig. "Perhaps some visitors will help get your mind off it?"
Silently agreeing, Stiles exits the car after Lydia and walks inside the house
behind her.
Jackson appears in the foyer as soon as Stiles closes the door, and he rolls
his eyes when the beta looks Lydia up and down with a frown, confused. "It's a
wig, dumbass..." he says exasperatedly before walking past him to find Derek.
Surprisingly, he finds the man still in bed, propped up against the pillows
with a book open in his lap. The sheets are pooled around Derek's waist, and it
feels so good to see him looking so relaxed and content again after the
roughness of the past few days. "Hey, you," he greets as he shuts the bedroom
door and walks over to the bed, sliding on to the mattress and tilting Derek's
book back so he can read the title on the spine. He nods approvingly after he
sees the word 'Misery' staring back up at him in a bloody font. When Derek
makes a noise of protest, he allows the man to take the book back and continue
reading, pressing right up against his side and snuggling into his sleep-warm
skin. "Stephen King, huh? Good choice. I've never read that one, though. Is it
any good? I've only seen the movie with Kathy Bates. She was super convincing
as a crazy-stalker fan."
Stiles shuts himself up when he realises he's rambling, smiling abashedly up at
Derek's amused face.
"It's alright," Derek replies after waiting a second just to make sure that
Stiles is truly finished. "I'm not very far through, so it's really too soon to
tell. I'm enjoying it so far, though I'm not too sure I like his writing style.
We'll see. What did you and Lydia get up to? Your note just said you were
leaving without saying what you were actually going to be doing." Now that
Stiles is back, he closes the book and sets it on the nightstand before tucking
his hands behind his head and concentrating on his mate.
"Lydia found a hair with your gold necklace, so I tried to use that in a spell
to find our attacker," Stiles explains, snuggling closer and wedging his nose
into the crease between Derek's neck and shoulder, breathing him in with a
sigh. "It didn't work."
Sensing Stiles' disappointment, Derek rumbles low in his chest so that the
vibrations seep through into the boy's body. He knows the sensation can often
mollify Stiles' anxiety and frustrations, and he makes full use of it in that
moment, ramping the noise up a couple of notches when the teen hums softly and
sighs, the exhalation sounding less despondent this time. The only downside to
the trick is that it often leads to jokes about him being like a cat, but
fortunately Stiles keeps his mouth shut for now. "We'll find another way, love.
Don't worry," he comforts quietly, lowering his right arm so he can run a hand
up and down the teen's back.
"That's what Lydia said..." Stiles breathes, his eyes closing.
"She's a smart girl; you should listen to her," Derek says cheekily, pressing
his lips to Stiles' forehead in a chaste kiss. "Never tell her I said that,
though. She'd wouldn't ever let me forget it." He shudders at the thought. For
months now, he's already been thinking that the banshee likes to take control
of too many situations as it is, something that doesn't really sit right with
the alpha wolf in his head. They put up with it, though, knowing things would
be worse if he ever dared to complain—what's happened to Jackson each time he's
tried to grow a backbone is more than enough reason for him to stay silent. He
never wants to be on the receiving end of Lydia's anger because he'd probably
be dead before he could scream. The only comfort is that Stiles would give the
girl hell right back in his defence. Speaking of his mate, he can tell that the
boy still has some nervous energy running through his system.
He was waiting until Stiles got back to take care of his usual morning workout,
and he's glad now that he did. It's the perfect opportunity for the teen to
burn off that energy.
"Right, c'mon," he instructs, sliding off of the mattress and chuckling when
Stiles ends up falling sideways with a groan into the spot he just vacated.
"We're going down to the basement so that you can work off your frustration.
It'll be good for you." When Stiles still doesn't move, he hikes up the back of
the teen's shirt and leans down to blow a series of raspberries right on his
spine.
Stiles breaks down into a fit of breathless laughter, squirming desperately
away from Derek.
He ends up falling off the other side of the bed with a thump that echoes
through the floor. "That was mean!" he gasps as his laughter tapers off, taking
Derek's hand when the man walks around to him and offers it. Instead of letting
go when he's on his feet, though, he uses the fact that Derek isn't expecting
it to his advantage and pulls him closer, tilting his head up and meeting the
wolf's lips when they come crashing into his own. He sucks eagerly on Derek's
tongue when it invades his mouth, not at all put off by the alpha's lingering
morning breath.
They stand there for several long minutes in their own little world, and Stiles
only pulls away when his lungs demand air. The dazed look on Derek's face makes
him smile, and he pinches the man's cheeks and coos at him sweetly before
sauntering away, pleased with himself.
                                     * * *
- Sunday, September 23rd, 2012 -
Sunday begins like any other day, the morning thankfully passing by without
incident.
After their usual cuddle session in bed, Stiles and Derek get up at around ten
o'clock following a rather impatient Isaac knocking loudly on their door,
wanting company. No one else is at the house yet and Danny is unavailable,
having gone out of town with his family for the day. Derek groans at being
disturbed, but Stiles just pats him on the back and tells him to get over it.
The human teen takes pity on Isaac and ends up enlisting the curly-haired
beta's help in doing his chores around the house. This gives Derek a break from
helping himself—Stiles sees him heading predictably down into the basement
again while he's busy vacuuming in the living room, with Isaac holding the
furniture up for him so he can get underneath. He wants to roll his eyes at his
mate, thinking that the amount of time Derek spends working out is a little
excessive, but he certainly doesn't mind reaping the rewards. Once the last of
the vacuuming is done, he gives the device to Isaac to put away in the closet
while he straightens everything up again. His eyes land on a picture frame on
the wall, the one with the glass still missing, and he makes a mental note to
go and get a new frame while he's out buying groceries later that day. So he
doesn't forget, he takes the picture off of the wall and puts it on the small
table in the foyer, next to the bowl in which he and Derek keep their car keys.
After that, it's not long before more pack members begin arriving. Erica and
Boyd show up while Stiles is preparing lunch in advance.
When Isaac looks at him pleadingly, he waves the trio off into the back garden
and watches with interest as they quickly get into mischief. It seems like a
game of tag, but it's incredibly acrobatic and over the top, all of them
showing off their different skills to get one over on the others.
Lydia and Jackson show up just as Stiles puts the finishing touches on his and
Derek's food—something simple, just an egg salad sandwich each—and Jackson is
quick to leave the redhead in order to join the other three betas outside for
some fun. He gets a smug look on his face as he uses his cunning and speed to
get the upper hand and outmanoeuvre Isaac and Boyd whenever they get close to
touching him. Erica is the one to finally bring him down. She hides quietly up
in one of the trees and waits until Jackson runs underneath her, unaware,
before leaping from her perch and pouncing on him. The two go rolling, growling
playfully at each other as Isaac and Boyd watch on.
"He's such a dork sometimes," Lydia says from beside Stiles, staring out
through the window.
Stiles glances over at her and chuckles quietly when he sees the small smile
she's trying and failing to hold back. "Yes, but you wouldn't have him any
other way and you know it," he teases gently, patting her on the shoulder. "A
little dorkiness is a good thing, if you ask me. Some of the best times I've
had with Derek have been when he's let himself act like the goofball he really
is underneath all that stoicism."
"True..." Lydia sighs, stepping away from the sink and taking one of the
sandwiches from the fridge. She takes a bite before Stiles can notice and
ignores his protests when he does, smirking around the mouthful as she dances
away from his grabbing hands.
"You're such a pain," Stiles mumbles as he gives up, taking another couple of
slices of bread out of the bread box and making a start at replacing the
sandwich Lydia stole. He's glad when the girl leaves the room then, heading out
through the back door to get a better view of the action still taking place in
the garden. It's then that Derek appears, hot and sweaty from his workout, and
takes a bottle of cool water from the fridge. Stiles watches the man's throat
work as he drinks, accidentally spreading mayonnaise on his hand instead of on
the bread. He realises his mistake when Derek laughs at him, quickly running
his hand under the faucet to rid his skin of the white condiment. Now clean, he
elbows the alpha in the stomach to silence him on his way to dry his hands.
"Shut up, you! It's your fault, so you don't get to laugh at me." He purses his
lips to stop himself from smiling when Derek grabs him and squeezes him tight,
peppering his face with kisses in apology. His shirt gets damp as the sweat
still on Derek's chest seeps into the fabric, and he pushes the man away before
he gets completely soaked.
His work done, Derek gives Stiles a mock salute before heading upstairs to
shower.
Downstairs, Stiles quickly puts the finishing touches on the replacement
sandwich before wrapping it and putting it on top of the other one still in the
fridge. He leaves a note on top of them to deter more thievery—'Hands off
unless you want to be severely punished! I promise I'll get creative! - Stiles'
He hopes the threat works because if it doesn't, he'll have to follow through
on it when he doesn't actually have anything planned just yet. Hopefully, the
spectacle he made of himself earlier in the week when he blasted Scott off of
his feet will make the betas think twice about disobeying him. Speaking of his
ex-best friend, as he wipes off his hands and walks aimlessly into the living
room, he hears the telltale rumble of the crooked-jawed beta's bike getting
progressively louder. Pulling back the curtain and looking outside, he sees
Scott come up the drive and pull to a stop next to Jackson's Porsche.
At first, he wonders how the other boy could possibly have the nerve to show
his face at the house again, but after Scott pulls off his helmet and he sees
the apprehension on the beta's face, he reconsiders. Maybe he's finally come to
his senses, he thinks as he steps back, letting the curtain fall back into
place before Scott can notice him spying. He hopes that's the case.
The sound of growling coming from behind catches Stiles' attention.
Looking around confusedly, he finds the other betas gathered in the foyer, all
shifted and ready to attack as soon as Scott comes through the front door. Even
Jackson looks pissed on his behalf, which is oddly touching. Even though he
appreciates the gesture, he doesn't want to end up having to clean blood off of
the hardwood floor, so he hurries over and steps between the betas and the
door. "Calm down, guys!" he placates, holding his palms out. "This is between
Scott, Derek and I, so why don't you all go back outside while we deal with
this, hmm?" He points a finger in the direction of the back door, the corner of
his mouth twitching when the betas reluctantly re-sheath their claws and let
their eyes return to their natural colours. He calls after them when they turn
around and leave the foyer, his voice firm. "And I don't want anybody
eavesdropping or coming back in before you're told you can, OK?!"
Preparing himself, Stiles faces the front door and waits for Scott to enter.
He's surprised when the beta chooses to knock on the wood instead, but a second
of thought leads him to the conclusion that the other boy is letting him choose
whether he answers or not.
It's an unexpectedly thoughtful move coming from Scott, so Stiles doesn't leave
him waiting. Reaching for the handle, he opens the door and looks the beta up
and down before stepping back to let him inside. He doesn't say a word as he
leads the way into the living room, wanting to keep Scott on his toes so that
he's more likely to slip up if his apology is insincere or he's not really here
to give one at all. After Scott remains standing, lingering by the window
awkwardly, Stiles rolls his eyes and finally opens his mouth. "Have a seat," he
says, pointing to the armchair.
This puts the coffee table between them, something that makes him feel more
comfortable.
"Where's Derek?" Scott asks, his voice timid as he lowers himself into the
offered chair. The room feels so uncomfortable and tense, with so many things
going unsaid, and he can't help looking around as if he expects the alpha or
one of the other betas to lunge suddenly out of nowhere and rip his head off
for even daring to come back. He's thankful when nothing of the sort happens.
"Showering. He probably already knows you're here, so he should be down soon,"
Stiles replies, leaning back into the sofa cushions and crossing his legs atop
the coffee table.
He projects an air of nonchalance, like Scott's presence isn't affecting him at
all. He wants to come off as completely indifferent so that he keeps the higher
ground—giving Scott even the smallest inkling that he's dying to forgive him
before hearing whatever speech the crooked-jawed boy has come to give would be
a step in the wrong direction. He meant what he said that day, that Scott needs
to learn his place, and that place right now is expendable. It'll be tough
because of how long they were each other's only friend, but he won't hesitate
to cut the beta off from the pack entirely if he's given enough reason—he won't
let Derek be hurt like that again. He won't stop Allison and Kira from seeing
Scott if they choose, but he will forbid the two girls from discussing pack
business with him unless if affects him directly, like if his or his mother's
lives are in danger. His planning is brought to a stop when he hears footsteps
on the stairs, and he turns to watch over his shoulder as a tensed-up Derek
comes into view in the foyer, hazel eyes flicking over in Scott's direction
before settling on him.
Derek raises an eyebrow at the human teen to ask silently for an explanation.
Patting the seat next to his own, Stiles rests a hand on Derek's hairy thigh
when the man takes his place, the thick muscle twitching beneath his palm.
Glancing sideways, he sees that his wolf's whole body remains rigid, something
he understands. "OK, here's how this discussion is going to go," he begins,
drawing both wolves' eyes.
"You're going to say whatever it is you came here to say," he states
confidently, addressing Scott directly, "and if both Derek and I think it's
good enough, we'll go from there and try to move past what you said before. If,
however, we think what you say next is complete bullshit, I'll kick you out and
we won't be speaking again. Ever. Got it?" He can feel Derek's approval
radiating through their bond, and he squeezes the man's leg reassuringly as he
waits for Scott to agree to his terms.
Being in the same room as Scott just five days after their confrontation keeps
Derek on edge, but he knows there's no way to work their problems out it if
they don't talk.
"Right, OK, that's...that's fair," Scott fumbles to accept, his tongue suddenly
feeling large and unwieldy in his mouth as he looks at Derek. "Well...I wanna
start this off by saying that I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking,
saying all of that stuff to you... Well, I do, I guess—I thought I was right
then, but I don't now; I know it was wrong. So wrong, like Allison and my mom
have been telling me over and over." He laughs humourlessly before clearing his
throat to cut the sound off. "Anyway, I was saying what I thought everyone else
was thinking, and I was scared that if I didn't speak up, something like that
would happen again, only this time Stiles wouldn't make it out alive." He
flicks his eyes over to the boy in question at this. "Seeing you acting so
lifeless like that again terrified me, and that was without all of the physical
injuries factored in. I know it's nobody's fault now, but my fear made me cling
to old ideas and Derek was an easy target for the anger I was feeling because I
couldn't take it out on the person who was actually responsible.
"I especially want to say I'm sorry for the whole...'rape' thing. That was
definitely crossing the line." Scott looks down at his feet, embarrassed and
ashamed of his past self. "I'll do whatever I have to do to earn your
forgiveness, no matter what it is, and I promise to never say or do anything
like that ever again."
As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Stiles feels the smallest hint of
pride.
He's still not ready to slip right back into his previous friendship with
Scott, but he thinks he's willing to put the effort in to get back there. When
he really ruminates on the subject, he admits that the two of them grew apart
considerably over the last year or so, though a lot of that was simply an
unavoidable consequence of their social circles widening beyond just the two of
them. He hopes this will be the start of them getting back the close friendship
they shared before that fateful night in the preserve.
Even so, he knows it's not solely his decision. "Derek?" he asks, looking
sideways at his mate's profile. The man frowns still, thick eyebrows pulled
down to meet as he continues studying Scott.
Derek didn't detect a single trace of a lie during Scott's whole speech.
Honestly, he thought it would take a lot longer for the beta to reach this
point, and he himself isn't really there yet. Even though the bleeding is
beginning to slow, because it hasn't been that long since their short argument,
the wounds he has from Scott's scathing words are still open. "OK. I accept
your apology," he says eventually, after another minute spent watching Scott
squirm under his gaze. It made the vindictive part of him feel better, at the
very least. He holds up a hand when the beta's face lights up with a relieved
grin. "But I'm going to tell you now that I'm not completely ready to move on
from what you said just yet; you said those things to hurt me, and that's
exactly what they did. I won't object to you being around the house, but it's
going to take me a while to forget them. Deal?"
The grin vanishes from Scott's face, but his expression still remains hopeful.
"Yeah...totally, dude," he agrees, his hair flopping about as he nods quickly.
He feels apprehension when Derek's eyes narrow at being called 'dude', but it
fades again when the alpha doesn't tell him off for it.
"Alright, dude. I have some work to do, so excuse me," Derek dismisses, getting
up to leave.
Once the alpha is gone, Stiles stands and holds his arms out in an invitation
that Scott is apparently eager to accept. He's nearly knocked off of his feet
when the beta collides with him and squeezes him tight, and he holds on to his
friend just as hard. "Don't you ever be that fucking stupid again, OK?" he
whispers hoarsely, blinking his eyes rapidly to stop himself from tearing up.
                                     * * *
The rest of the day passes somewhat smoothly. As Stiles thought might happen,
Erica and Isaac remain distrustful of Scott, shooting the crooked-jawed beta
glare after glare whenever they think he isn't looking. They're not as discreet
as they think, though, because Stiles catches them every time. He gives up
telling them to back off after the first glare is given, figuring that it's up
to Scott to get the two to come around again. Scott seems willing to take up
the task, though, which Stiles is happy to see—in his mind, it means his friend
was definitely sincere about wanting to make amends, and not just with him and
Derek. Speaking of Derek, the alpha stays shut up in his study the whole time,
and when Stiles pops in to ask him what he's doing, he just gets a shake of the
head and told that he'll find out later. Because it's a school night, most of
the pack decide to call it a day earlier than they ordinarily would, returning
to their own homes just after nine o'clock.
Luckily, by that point, Isaac has warmed up to Scott again enough to go with
him, grudgingly sitting behind the crooked-jawed beta on his bike as they speed
down the long driveway and out onto the main road. Stiles is frankly glad for
the peace and quiet because the noisy betas were driving him insane.
It's too late for him to go shopping for groceries as he originally planned, so
he settles instead for spending the remainder of the night binge-watching all
the episodes he's missed of Game of Thrones.
Derek finally emerges from his study and joins Stiles in the living room when
the last episode has almost concluded, falling down into his usual seat with a
sigh and slinging his arm casually over the back of sofa. He plays with the
short hairs at the back of Stiles' neck as the final scene plays out on screen,
not really following along with the plot at all since he's never watched an
episode before. Thankfully, it's a show Stiles hasn't forced him into watching
just yet.
That could easily change, though, so he makes sure to keep quiet about it.
After the episode finishes, Stiles gets up from his seat and begins tidying up
all the mess the betas left behind. Most of it is in the kitchen from when they
polished off pretty much all of the remaining junk food in the house, with
Scott eating a whole jar of hot dogs because he was 'starving to death'. It's
only when he's finished that he feels eyes on his back, so after turning off
the tap and drying his hands, he turns to find Derek leaning against the door
jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. "What's up?" he asks, his frown
growing more prominent when Derek just keeps staring at him with an unreadable
expression on his face. It's worrying, mainly because he's never been unable to
tell exactly what Derek is thinking—even back when they first met, he could
easily work out what was running through the man's mind, regardless of whether
or not he was actually paying close attention.
"It's nothing," Derek replies evasively, his expression finally changing as a
small smile appears on his lips. "I'll see you upstairs, OK?"
Without waiting for a response, Derek walks from the room and leaves Stiles
standing in the kitchen, feeling more baffled than ever. Shaking his head, the
boy does a cursory sweep of the ground floor just to make sure everything is in
order, switching off lights and locking doors and windows as he goes.
He plans on annoying Derek as much as he can when he gets into their bedroom,
not relenting until the man coughs up whatever is on his mind. It's one of his
favourite games to play. He narrows his eyes at Derek as he passes by on his
way to the bathroom, leaning back as he walks through the doorway so that the
man stays in view for as long as possible. He almost falls flat on his back
doing it, but he knows it's worth it when he hears Derek chuckling away quietly
in the other room as a result of his buffoonery. Quickly brushing his teeth and
relieving himself with a flush, he switches off the bathroom light before
returning to the bedroom and sliding beneath the covers next to Derek. "So, are
you gonna tell me what you were up to all day or are you gonna make me pry it
out of you?" he asks, leaning back against the headboard and smoothing the
sheets out across his lap. The lamp on Derek's bedside table is the only light
source in the room, making everything feel comfortably intimate.
He keeps his eyes on Derek as the man puts his book away.
"I had a special therapy session with Sheila, quite a lengthly one," Derek
answers, smiling kindly when Stiles' eyes widen and his mouth drops open. "I've
been talking with her in secret ever since Tuesday, and she was nice enough to
clear her schedule once I told her everything that's gone on with me over the
past few years. She agreed to talk today, too, even though it's the weekend and
she wasn't technically supposed to be working at all."
"Gee, thanks for telling me," Stiles says sarcastically when Derek comes to a
halt. He changes his tone fast after that, though, adopting a more positive
attitude. "Do you think it's helping?"
Nodding, Derek flings back the sheets so that they're both uncovered.
"Uhh...what're you doing?" Stiles asks confusedly when Derek grabs his ankles
and pulls him down along the bed until his head comes off the pillows. He only
becomes more perplexed when the man climbs atop him, strong hands pressed into
the mattress either side of his head.
"I'm making love to you," Derek replies as if it's the most obvious thing in
the world. His voice is low and husky, and he doesn't give Stiles a chance to
respond before easing himself down completely and laying the full weight of his
body atop his mate's. His tongue slides easily past Stiles' parted lips, the
boy's mouth still open in shock, and it takes a few seconds for Stiles to
react, slender legs parting to let him fit more comfortably in between and his
lips beginning to move, reciprocating the kiss. Derek growls into it when hands
fist in his hair, fingers tangling and tugging gently. His cock twitches in his
underwear, steadily getting harder as he grinds his hips down deliberately
against Stiles' more bony pair. It's not long before the friction seemingly
becomes too much for his mate, and he feels the teen shudder against him as
wetness spreads between them and soaks through the thin fabric of his boxer-
briefs. The scent of Stiles' come is too intense for words as he tears his
mouth away to look down at the mess the boy has made already.
His cheeks flushing red, Stiles feels embarrassed at losing control so quickly.
"It's been a while, OK?" he excuses, quickly shutting up when Derek grins down
at him devilishly, his fangs glinting in the low light. He watches, enraptured,
as Derek crawls down the length of his body and curls fingers under the
waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down slowly.
Stiles' crotch is wet and sticky with come, and Derek just has to get closer.
He licks in long lines over the boy's softening cock, collecting all of his
release on his tongue and moaning as the taste explodes in his mouth. He
savours each and every drop before swallowing it all somewhat reluctantly. "So
fucking delicious..." he whispers, licking his lips.
Beckoning Stiles to sit up, Derek yanks the teen's shirt off over his head
before pushing him back down so forcefully that he bounces a couple of times
against the mattress. Miles of pale skin call to him, so he wastes no time
running his mouth over every inch, flicking his tongue out over the first mole
he encounters and playing Connect the Dots with the rest. Stiles arches up into
him, knocking him off course, so he presses a hand down in the centre of the
boy's chest to hold him in place as he continues from where he left off. He
reaches the hard nub of Stile's left nipple and sucks it into his mouth, biting
down on it, pulling it gently with him as he draws back and releasing it before
the pain becomes too much. He plays his mate like he's a skilled musician and
Stiles' body is his finely tuned instrument, knowing instinctively just what
notes to hit to make the boy sing.
It's good to know that nothing has changed.
Stiles fists his hands in the sheets, pulling on them until they threaten to
tear. His toes curl and his mouth drops open in a drawn-out groan, the slight
twinge of pain combined with the overwhelming pleasure making him see stars
behind his closed eyelids. It's all happening so fast, much faster than he
originally thought—he was sure that Derek would need at least another few weeks
to work through enough of his demons and reach the point where he was ready to
be intimate again.
He's glad to have been proven wrong, though, quickly getting caught up in all
the sensations Derek is making him feel, to the point where his breath comes in
short, his head tipped back as he pants out his pleasure. Derek's mouth feels
like hot heaven.
Moving on to Stiles' other nipple, Derek gives the second nub the same
treatment, his hands curling around the teen's hips and holding on tight. It
takes some effort to push past the want to keep his claws hidden, but he
manages it eventually, the sharp tips digging into pale, fragile skin almost to
the point of piercing it. The fact that Stiles' moans only get louder makes it
easier.
Finally releasing his mate's sore nipple and sitting back to inspect his
handiwork, he can't help but hum in satisfaction when he sees how red and
tender they look.
"Beautiful..." he mutters, breathless.
Stiles whines quietly in confusion when, all at once, every exquisite sensation
he was feeling stops abruptly. He cracks his eyes open and blinks hazily,
watching Derek as he moves and pins his legs down, firm ass coming to rest on
his thighs. "Why'd you stop?" he rasps, feeling his heart skip in his chest
when Derek just grins at him again and grabs the hem of his Henley in both
hands. Stiles is left breathless when the shirt is pulled off and the
impressively defined physique he adores is revealed. Every sharp line and
groove just begs to be worshipped, but when he tries to sit up and actually
touch the man, Derek pauses in his undressing and stops him with a growl of
disapproval. His wolf tells him that he wants to devote the entirety of the
night to him, and Stiles is more than happy to let him have that. He lies back
once more and enjoys the rest of the show, saliva quickly building in his mouth
as he looks on. Content to just watch for the time being, if he still wants
to—which he obviously will—he knows he can run his hands over Derek's body all
he wants later on.
As he always is, Stiles is left mesmerised when Derek finally pulls his shirt
off completely and tosses it aside. The bedside lamp provides just enough light
for him to see everything, the faint yellow glow of it making Derek's skin look
especially tanned and warm.
His mouth waters.
Derek's chest puffs out as he revels in the attention, showing off. The fact
that he can still affect Stiles with just his naked flesh makes him feel proud
and strong, like he can do anything. His cock is painfully hard, so he rises to
his knees and yanks his underwear down, his thick length slapping up against
hair-dusted abs when the waistband slips past the leaking head.
Flinging the offending garment across the room to land in a ball on the floor,
he moves forward and grabs their lube from the top drawer of his nightstand. He
doesn't miss the way Stiles' pupils dilate with arousal when he pulls the
bottle out and gives him an indication of what's to come.
Swinging himself around so that he faces the foot of the bed, Derek looks over
his shoulder to make sure he's positioned perfectly as he shuffles backward.
When Derek's gorgeous ass comes to a stop right in front of his face, Stiles
takes it as a clear sign that he can finally actively participate. When Derek
bends his legs back to get at his hole with a lube-slathered finger, he parts
the alpha's own hairy cheeks and dives right in with his tongue, flicking it up
the crack and breathing in the musky scent with a moan. Derek pushes back onto
his tongue until he's practically sitting on his face, something of which
Stiles vehemently approves. Derek must be listening to his heartbeat, because
every time he gets close to running out of air, the man shifts forward and
gives him a second to refill his lungs before smothering him once more with his
delicious ass. Nothing but Derek's scent fills his nostrils, intoxicating him
and driving him wild, and he squeezes the man's cheeks in his hands at the same
time a second finger slides into him. The fine, dark hairs of Derek's ass catch
between his fingers as he digs his nails into the muscular globes.
A groan works its way out of Derek's throat as Stiles' slick tongue worms its
way inside his body, and he presses his mouth against the teen's inner thigh to
muffle the sound. He'll never get used to how vulnerable it makes him feel, and
it's all he can do to keep his fingers moving, preparing.
The tight ring of muscle gradually loosens under his ministrations, and soon
enough he finds he's able to add a third and final finger without encountering
any resistance. He really can't wait to slide his cock deep inside. His own
hole seems to be heading the same way as Stiles coaxes him to relax and open
up, the teen's pulsing tongue fucking deep inside and almost making his legs
give out.
He'll have to sit on Stiles' face more often, it feels so good.
Finally concluding that his mate is adequately prepared, Derek drops Stiles'
legs and turns around, chuckling when the boy pouts up at him. Stiles is
obviously not pleased that he took his fingers and ass away, but he knows the
next part will have him quickly singing a different tune. "What's the matter?
Don't you want this?" he asks teasingly, running a hand down his body until he
reaches his cock, hard as steel as it leaks pre-come all over the sheets.
"I guess..." Stiles admits, his pout disappearing as the man gets into
position. He curls his legs around Derek's hips and pulls him closer, squirming
impatiently when his wolf's cock slots into the crack of his ass without
actually entering him. His restlessness only increases when Derek just stays
hovering above him, hands on either side of his head, watching silently with
red eyes. "Do I have to beg again?" He's not above it if that means he'll
finally get Derek's wonderfully filling length inside of him again, something
he's sorely missed. Luckily, his words seem to be enough for Derek. The alpha
shakes his head as if clearing it before smirking down at him and unlocking his
elbows, lowering himself so that Stiles' re-hardened cock is trapped between
their stomachs. The field of hair on Derek's chest tickles his still-sensitive
nipples to the point where he squirms to try and get away, but it's pointless.
Derek's powerful arms don't let him go, not that he truly wants to be anywhere
else.
Pinned beneath his mate's muscular frame is his favourite place to be.
Waiting until Stiles' eyes meet his again, Derek slowly presses forward until
the head of his cock pops past his fluttering rim. The boy feels so unbearably
tight still, even after taking three of his fingers, so much so that it feels
like their first time all over again.
Moving slowly out of necessity, he eases himself home inch by inch until he's
sheathed to the hilt within warm perfection. Stiles' head tips back again and
he rests his forehead on the boy's chin, waiting as he gets used to being
stretched so wide again. His breathing is laboured and his body shakes as he
holds himself still, not wanting to move until his mate gives him the all-
clear.
Stiles digs his nails into Derek's back as he's slowly split apart, filled
steadily until it almost becomes too much to take. The initial penetration
feels so raw and intense that it's like he's losing his virginity again, and he
thinks that's a nice way to look at things. It's like they're completely
erasing that horrible evening from their lives and starting anew. He groans
quietly into Derek's hair when the man pushes forward a final time and the last
inch slips inside, weighty balls coming to rest against the curve of his ass.
Having to wait until his channel acclimates to being stretched so wide once
more verges on agonising, so he focuses instead on the feeling of Derek's hot
breaths as they blow across his neck.
They stay like that for several minutes, holding on to each other tightly,
their eyes closed.
An experimental squeeze of his ass around Derek's thick cock lets Stiles know
that the initial discomfort has passed, meaning the man can finally begin
moving. He winds the fingers of one hand into Derek's hair and gently pulls his
head up, pecking him affectionately on the tip of his nose before speaking.
"OK, Sourwolf; you can move now," he whispers huskily, his mouth remaining
parted on a gasp when the man immediately does just that.
The pleasure he feels when Derek's length begins sliding slowly in and out
leaves Stiles breathless, and he can do nothing but cling to the wolf as he
loses himself in their lovemaking.
After withdrawing until just the head of his cock remains inside Stiles' ass,
Derek's eyes roll back in his head with the next push in. The tight heat feels
like paradise, like everything that's good and right in the universe has been
combined and condensed down to surround his cock. He can't believe that someone
would ever want to take something so pure and sacred and taint it, making it
ugly and full of pain, and he's more thankful now than ever that it didn't
work. He feels so full of love that his heart is fit to burst and his mind
empties of everything else until his whole world is narrowed down to the
beautiful boy moaning beneath him. His wonderful mate is all that matters to
him in that moment. When Stiles releases his hair, he lets his head fall again
so that his face is buried in the curve of the teen's neck, his lips pressed
just above the pulse point. He sucks the skin into his mouth and bites down on
it, nibbling to leave his mark on the vulnerable flesh.
Every time Derek's cock glides smoothly inside him again, it sets off fireworks
behind Stiles' eyelids, the head nudging insistently at his prostate and
punching a breath from his lungs. It feels like too much and not enough at the
same time, and he turns his head to the side and hides his face in Derek's
forearm to stop the sounds pouring from his mouth from getting too loud.
To ground himself, he curls one of his hands around the back of Derek's
shoulder and reaches down with the other to grab hold of the man's strong
thigh. The thick muscle flexes beneath tanned, hair-dusted skin with every slow
thrust.
The pace never changes, Derek's movements staying languid and unerringly
precise in their aim. The alpha releases Stiles' neck from between his teeth
after almost a full five minutes of worrying it, drawing his face back to look
at the result. The rumbling in his chest that's been a constant ever since he
first made Stiles come gets louder with approval when he sees the mark he's
made, dark against the teen's pale skin, and he licks over it a couple of times
to soothe the ache.
Stiles arches up into the slick feeling of Derek's tongue, a breathy moan of
his name slipping out.
Now that he's able to move freely without fear of hurting the boy, Derek levers
himself up on his hands so that he can look down between their bodies and watch
himself. Stiles' hand slips from his shoulder with the change, sliding down his
arm and holding on to his wrist instead. The fact that the teen can't seem to
let him go even for a second is touching. Stiles' legs are still clamped around
his hips, heels digging into his ass to prevent him from pulling out much more
than halfway, as if he would ever think of leaving the exquisite warmth wrapped
around him. No, he wants to stay right where he is for the rest of his life,
making love to his perfect mate for eternity. He wants to shout it from the
rooftops, declare just how much Stiles means to him to the whole world so that
everyone knows, just as much as he wants to keep it a secret, something shared
and treasured just by the two of them. His wolf is finally happy again, howling
in his head in joy now instead of pain, the sound close to deafening.
He wants to howl himself, but he holds off, so entranced is he by the sight of
Stiles' face scrunched up in pleasure and the litany of moans and mewls that
escape his mouth even as he tries to keep quiet.
It doesn't take much longer for Stiles to feel his second orgasm approaching.
He holds on to Derek tighter, biting so hard into the man's forearm when it
crests that he actually breaks the skin. Arcs of viscous come shoot forth from
his cock, coating his stomach in white and making Derek's thrusts falter. Blood
coats his lips, but he doesn't mind the taste.
The sensation of Stiles' ass clenching down hard around him makes Derek whine,
his arms almost giving out as he holds himself buried deep inside, his hips
flush with his mate's ass. He'd forgotten just how amazing it feels to be
inside Stiles while the boy comes, and the scent of his release as it fills his
nose turns him on so much that his knot suddenly seems to blossom into
existence, growing rapidly just behind Stiles' fluttering rim. His own orgasm
is almost milked from him, the rhythmic clenching of Stiles' ass around his
knot overwhelming him and making him push it in even further, burying it deeper
until there's no space between them.
His balls draw up and his whole body tenses as it finally happens.
Derek's cock pulses wildly as it spurts copious amounts of seed, more than he
ever remembers producing before. There's so much that Stiles' stomach actually
starts to distend, swelling full and glistening with his own come in the low
light, and he can't resist collecting some of the slowly drying fluid in his
hand and rubbing it into the skin over his heart, smearing it around until he's
marked and his chest hair is matted down with the stuff. It's then that he
feels Stiles' hand in his hair again, trying to get his attention. Tearing his
eyes away from his own chest, he peers down at the teen curiously, his hips
still moving in tiny circles as his orgasm continues and Stiles' stomach grows
even more. Before he can open his mouth to ask what his mate wants, he's pulled
him down until his face hovers just above the juncture between the boy's
shoulder and neck, his breaths puffing out across the scar of his mating bite.
He still can't quite figure out what Stiles is asking for, but the teen doesn't
leave him hanging.
"Bite me..." Stiles gasps, Derek's knot pressing right up against his prostate,
keeping him hard even though his orgasm is over.
"W-what?" Derek chokes, teeth turning into fangs and his mouth already lowering
even as he tries to get his brain to function. It's a strange request, one that
takes him a while to understand. The whole night has felt like them wiping the
slate clean and starting fresh, and eventually he guesses that Stiles wants to
commemorate it by renewing their bond.
When Stiles says just that, his voice breathy, Derek doesn't keep him waiting.
He sinks his teeth down in the exact same places he did all those months
before, reopening the wound and causing blood to fill his mouth. It's not a
changing bite—the intent needs to be there for that—but it affects him just as
much. While their bond never died during their time apart, it feels somehow
stronger when Stiles bites into his neck with human teeth and claims him right
back. It shines brighter and he feels the boy's emotions more clearly as it's
completed for a second time.
Stiles is of a similar mind, glad that the idea popped into his head when it
did.
Releasing the boy from his mouth, Derek flips them around so that he's lying on
his back and Stiles is sprawled atop him, breathing into his neck. His hands
rub up and down the boy's back, unable to stop moving and touching and loving
him. He's so happy he wants to cry.
"Love you, Sourwolf..." Stiles whispers sleepily into Derek's neck, his eyes
closing as the man beneath him returns the words. His wolf smells so good, like
sweat and come and home, that he's quickly lulled to sleep by it, his nose
twitching as he begins snoring softly, dreaming of nothing but the two of them
together. A contented smile appears on his lips as he relives all the best
parts of their relationship on repeat, his body losing every ounce of tension
because he knows instinctively that he's safe with Derek's arms holding him
tight.
***** Subterfuge *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: this chapter contains watersports (sexual acts involving
     urination), so if that doesn't appeal to you, skip the first half.
- Monday, September 24th, 2012 -
Stiles wakes up early the following morning to fingers walking up and down his
spine.
He makes a small noise of protest at his sleep being disturbed before blinking
his eyes open and stretching. Derek sends him a shy smile from where he lies a
few inches away, the man's head resting on the other pillow, and Stiles can't
help returning it with one of his own. "Hey," he greets, yawning as his wolf's
fingers resume their path up his back, tickling him lightly.
"Hey," Derek responds, feeling so relaxed and content that he can't stop
smiling, not that he wants to. After Stiles fell asleep the previous night,
he'd waited until his knot went down before easing himself out from under the
teen and cleaning them both up a little. He contemplated for a minute about how
he should handle the come that was slowly trickling out of Stiles' stretched
and well-used hole, whether he should clean as much of it up as he could or
keep it all inside somehow. In the end, his wolf's excitement for the latter
option won out. He was quick to retrieve their black plug from the back of
their dresser and ease it slowly and carefully inside Stiles' hole, using the
come that had already slipped out during his thinking to slick the way. When
Stiles whined quietly into his pillow at the initial breach, close to waking,
he ran a hand down the boy's side to soothe and lull him back under. The action
worked, and a small, pleased smile appeared on his lips when he found he was
able to push the widest part of the plug past Stiles' abused rim without
disturbing him any more.
While he knew he'd shot a lot of the stuff beforehand, he still found himself
shocked when more of his come was pushed out to make room for the last inch of
cool plastic, getting all over his fingers and the bedding between Stiles'
parted legs. He reasoned that, because it had been almost three weeks since his
last orgasm, he had a lot built up to release, and like he'd known it would,
his wolf rumbled low in his head at the thought of all that come kept up inside
their mate's ass where it belonged.
The fact gives their scent a sense of permanence that will follow Stiles around
for days.
After the plug was settled, he ran a damp washcloth over their skin to rid them
of their combined dried sweat. With Stiles, he took extra care to keep his
touches gentle so as to not accidentally wake him—that would've rendered his
earlier care with the plug pointless.
Purposefully, he'd avoided his own chest, wanting to keep Stiles' scent on
himself for as long as he could manage, and once that was done, he tossed the
washcloth in the laundry hamper and downed a couple of glasses of water to
rehydrate his body. His stomach heavy with the cool liquid, he'd finally
slipped back into bed next to his mate, pulled him close, and drifted off. He
hadn't slept well in almost a month, so it was a relief to get a full night of
rest again.
"What's the smile for?" Stiles asks, turning on his side and propping his head
up on his hand so he has a better view of Derek's face. It's a beautiful sight
to see, the alpha lying next to him looking sleep-ruffled and like he doesn't
have a care in the world.
It makes his heart stutter in his chest.
Derek pulls the blankets up a little further so that he's more snuggled in. "I
just feel good this morning," he replies quietly, elaborating when Stiles
raises an eyebrow at him. "I don't know... I mean, I definitely thought I was
ready for last night going in, but I guess actually proving to myself that I
can make love to you without having any troubles was enough to get rid of all
the worries I still had from...you know." Stiles runs his free hand up his arm
as he speaks. He grabs it in one of his own and brings it up to his lips,
kissing the pale skin before linking their fingers together.
"I'm glad," Stiles responds after a second, his eyes never leaving his wolf's
handsome face.
"How do you feel?" Derek enquires after a minute of easy silence has passed,
the two of them just lying there together without feeling the urge to fill it.
Unlike a lot of the times they've been alone with each other since Derek
returned, it doesn't seem awkward in the slightest. He feels so close to Stiles
in that moment, and it's nice to finally get back to the casual touches they
shared before.
Stiles takes a few seconds to mull over the question. "I'm amazing," he decides
resolutely, watching the movement of Derek's thumb over the back of his hand.
"Last night was perfect." He still feels comfortably full, and a clench around
the plug in his ass tells him why.
Humming in satisfaction, Derek shifts over onto his back and lies with his
hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling and just letting the time
drift past. The room is lit with both his and Stiles' bedside lamps, but he can
just about see the sun beginning to rise through the drawn curtains. The clock
to his right tells him that they have about an hour before Stiles has to get up
for school, putting a bit of a damper on his mood, but he refuses to be brought
down and brushes it off before it can really grip him. Stiles moves closer
after a while, pressing up against his side and laying his head on his chest,
and he gladly parts his legs a little bit so that the teen can fit one of his
own between them. His eyes slip closed and he hums in pleasure when Stiles
begins stroking a hand across his left pectoral, sliding across tanned skin and
playing with the dark hairs of his chest. The gentle touches make him feel
completely at peace, and he wishes they could spend the whole day lying just as
they are, trading affection-filled kisses and making love over and over and
over.
It would be interesting to see just how many times they could do it in one day.
The sound of Stiles' soft breathing combined with the birds he can hear
chirping in the trees outside the window acts almost like a lullaby. The only
thing that actually stops him from falling back to sleep is his uncomfortably
full bladder, and he really regrets drinking that extra glass of water the
night before when the pressure keeps increasing, making him squirm.
"What's up?" Stiles asks confusedly when he notices Derek's hips shifting
beneath his leg. He picks his head up so that he can look down at the man, his
own eyebrows drawing together when he sees the frown on Derek's face, his mouth
a tight line.
Squinting open one eye, Derek huffs in annoyance before finally giving in to
his body's needs. "As badly as I don't want to move, I really have to pee..."
he sighs as he gently pushes Stiles off and throws back the sheets. He slides
out of bed, completely comfortable in his nudity, and hears Stiles move to
follow as he heads into the bathroom and switches on the light. The toilet
beckons him, but before he can step in front of it and relieve himself, Stiles'
arms come around his waist and stop him. He whines but stays put when a hand
rubs over his lower stomach.
"I have a thought..." Stiles announces, speaking quietly with his mouth close
to Derek's ear.
"Well, make it quick; I don't think I can hold it much longer," Derek groans
impatiently, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth. Because his mind is
focused on how much he needs to urinate, he doesn't connect the dots between
the situation and Stiles speaking sensuously in his ear until it's actually
spelled out for him. Once the boy explains himself, though, his eyes snap open
in shock.
Chuckling, Stiles nibbles on his mate's earlobe for a second before releasing
it, and his hand travels further down Derek's body until his fingers wind
themselves through the wiry curls that surround the man's soft cock. "You
remember that conversation we had right before I helped you shower a couple of
weeks ago?" he asks, pausing and smirking when he hears Derek inhale sharply.
"Well...I was thinking that maybe we could actually do it now. If you want to.
I mean, you seem really desperate to go, so there must be a lot in there, and I
kinda wanna know what it's like to feel all of that hot piss running over my
skin. On my face, in my hair...in my mouth. Wanna drink you down, Der. Wanna be
filled even more with you..." He knows he has Derek convinced already when his
cock twitches and begins to harden, but he carries on spewing filth anyway,
just to get the man even more fired up. "Think about it: having me down on my
knees in front of you as you mark me as yours in every way. How good would that
feel, covering me absolutely in your scent so that no one would ever dare touch
me?"
Stiles practically purrs the last part, moving his hand slowly along Derek's
cock.
The alpha's body shakes as he allows his animalistic instincts to take over,
his claws and fangs coming out, his eyes glowing red and coarse hair growing
down the sides of his face. He spins out of Stiles' arms and grabs the teen,
practically throwing him into the shower stall.
Even though he feels unbelievably desperate to put everything Stiles just said
into practice, he still has enough sense to know that doing it anywhere else
would lead to a lot of unnecessary cleanup. He slams the stall door closed
after stepping inside and pounces on his mate, pushing him up against the cold
tiles and devouring his mouth. His tongue slides easily past Stiles' lips, and
his growls get louder and echo around the small space when the teen begins
sucking on it eagerly.
Feeling helpless when Derek captures his wrists and holds them tightly above
his head, restraining him, Stiles whimpers as the alpha continues to plunder
his mouth. The sense of helplessness only serves to arouse him more, and the
desperation he feels for the man ramps up until it's almost unbearable, his
cock quickly joining the party where it's pressed against Derek's between their
bodies.
Their lengths rub together maddeningly as Derek's copious pre-come slicks the
way.
Derek's fangs mean he can't quite go all out like he wants, but that doesn't
seem to bother Stiles, who writhes against him and moans into the kiss. He
drinks up the sounds like they're cool water and he's a man dying of thirst in
a desert; they affect him so much that the reason he even manhandled the boy
into the shower almost goes forgotten, but fortunately, the urgency of his full
bladder doesn't let Stiles' earlier words actually slip his mind. After another
minute of sloppy kissing, he steps back and pulls Stiles with him, curling
clawed hands around bony shoulders and pushing the teen down to kneel before
him on the porcelain of the shower basin. It's such an erotic sight, one that's
full of submission and supplication, that his already hard cock gets impossibly
more so, standing out straight and proud from between his legs. The length is
like iron when he begins stroking it slowly, and the way Stiles' eyes track the
movement with obvious hunger fills him with such satisfaction that he just has
to tease the teen some more. He watches as Stiles' tongue sweeps out across
reddened and kiss-swollen lips.
Stiles is mesmerised as he watches Derek's hand move, the man's cock just
inches from his face. The foreskin is drawn back enticingly with every stoke,
and the sight of the head being revealed and hidden again and again makes him
dizzy with lust. He longs to slide his tongue beneath the hood of extra skin
and collect the delectable flavours he knows are waiting for him there, the
day-old sweat and come he never gets sick of tasting, especially when faint
traces of urine are added in.
The pulsing slit is revealed every time Derek pulls back his foreskin,
promising torrents of hot piss for him to bathe in and drink down like the
sweetest wine. He sits back on his heels and groans when the plug still in his
ass gets pushed even deeper inside, pressing right up against his prostate. It
makes his impatience grow even more, his own cock jerking and leaking between
his legs.
He can't wait any longer, and luckily he doesn't have to.
"You ready?" Derek grunts out, the tenuous control he has over his bladder
beginning to wane. The nerve endings gathered just behind the head of his cock
are stimulated with every movement of his hand, only furthering his lust, and
his chest heaves with the effort it takes to hold it back.
His eyes reluctantly leaving the beautiful cock right in front of them, Stiles
glances up at Derek's face and swallows as he nods and manages a husky, "Yes."
He's in awe at how affected the man already looks by what's happening and is
sure he looks the same, his cheeks and neck just as flushed. Derek's eyes look
piercingly into his, searching for the truth in his words, and the red glow of
his irises gets brighter when he apparently finds it. Stiles readies himself
and bears his neck in a clear signal for Derek to start off there. The wait is
excruciating, but he knows it must be difficult for his wolf to let go when
he's as turned on as he is. When he hears Derek sigh and feels the first splash
of hot piss on his skin, though...it's all worth it. It's more than he could
have ever hoped it would be. Derek's head is thrown back with the ecstasy he
feels at finally emptying his bladder—a feeling with which Stiles is intimately
familiar—and his abs twitch as he holds himself still. Stiles tracks his eyes
down every flexing muscle of Derek's body until he gets to the man's cock, and
the sight of the yellowish urine jetting forth from the gaping slit takes his
breath away.
The stream is so strong and seems endless. He wishes it truly was.
He's so turned on by the hot liquid sluicing down over his body that he
actually shakes with it, his breathing turning shaky. Derek's eyes are on him
again and his top lip is curled back with a constant, quiet growl, so he feels
like putting on more of a show. He darts forward into the stream until it
covers his face and gets all in his hair, drenching him from head to toe.
The scent of Derek's piss is so pungent and the taste of what little slips
between his lips is so delicious that he can't hold back his curiosity any
longer. He opens his mouth wide and catches the stream on his tongue, letting
it fill him up before swallowing and returning for a second mouthful.
He's so caught up in the taste and feel of Derek's piss on his skin that he
doesn't notice his own bladder beginning to empty, his cock jerking wildly
between his legs as it shoots clear urine between Derek's spread legs, hitting
the wall opposite. It's only when it tapers off that he realises what's just
happened, but he doesn't care. Now that he no longer needs to piss, he can
focus more on his need for release and the hot liquid that continues to fill
his mouth and make him moan.
All of a sudden, Derek fists his hair roughly and his eyes slip closed in
pleasured pain.
Every drop of pre-come that bubbles up from his own cock is quickly washed away
by the enormous amount of piss that overflows from his mouth. Stiles wraps a
hand around the hard length and begins jerking himself off quickly, chasing his
orgasm. Derek's piss provides just enough slickness, and the feel of all that
warn liquid enveloping him where it gathers in between his fingers is so
exquisite that it doesn't take long at all for his orgasm to hit. He groans
loudly as he shoots all over Derek's legs and the bottom of the shower, and his
release is quick to join the flow of piss on its way down the drain,
unfortunately wasted. When he comes down from his high, he's shocked to find
that Derek is still going and guesses that the man wasn't kidding earlier when
he said he was desperate. It seems a shame to let any more of it go to waste
than he has to, so he parts his lips once more and swirls the salty and bitter
liquid around his mouth, savouring it before swallowing. It seems odd that
everything that comes out of Derek's body is delicious to him, his sweat, his
come, his piss...but he's more than happy to revel in the taste of it all and
beg for more.
The feeling of warm liquid filling him up is wonderfully satisfying.
In fact, it's so good that Stiles just has to wrap his lips around the head of
Derek's cock and drink his piss straight from the source. He slaps the man's
hand away and keeps the length steady with his own as his throat works to keep
up with powerful stream, swallowing every few seconds so that his mouth doesn't
overflow again and he doesn't miss any. His eyes close in euphoria, and he can
very much see himself becoming as desperate for Derek's piss as he is for his
come.
Unfortunately, all things have to come to an end eventually. The rate at which
his mouth fills slows as Derek's bladder gets close to emptying completely, and
he whines in disappointment as he laps up the last few drops from the man's
slit. It's strange to be so sad about having no more of Derek's piss to drink,
but if he's honest with himself, he always knew he'd be a kinky bastard, so
it's really no surprise.
Stiles' stomach feels so warm and full, and he rubs a hand over it contentedly
as Derek's cock slips from his mouth with a wet pop, still rock-hard and
dripping pre-come now instead of piss.
His urgent need to urinate now sated, Derek's body finally loses some of its
tension. The fact that Stiles is covered in his piss, thoroughly marking him as
his, makes his cock twitch with anticipation when he wraps his hand around it
again with the intent of bringing himself off fast. He doesn't get very far,
though, because Stiles springs to his feet a second later and grabs hold of his
wrist, stopping him. "Umm...what?" he asks stupidly. He can't find the mental
capacity to make his question any more eloquent than that, but he thinks it's
not a necessity because Stiles seems to understand what he means anyway. A
finger is held up to his lips and his hand his gently pulled away from his cock
a second later, and he whines in disappointment at having his release denied.
He's about to demand to know just what Stiles is thinking when he catches a
whiff of the stench clinging to the boy's finger, and he simply has to suck it
into his mouth to taste himself, Stiles watching him all the while as he swirls
his tongue around the digit and rids it of all traces of urine.
"You think you can stop yourself from knotting?" Stiles asks as he slips his
finger from Derek's mouth.
"Uhh, I don't know; I've never tried to before," Derek replies confusedly,
tilting his head to the side. He doesn't need to ask the reason for Stiles'
question, already correctly guessing that the boy wants to know if he can be
fucked without being split open on his knot and tied together, probably because
of the lack of time he has until school. They're probably already cutting it
close as it is.
Biting his lip, Stiles weighs his options before deciding that his need to be
fucked is more important than the possibility of being late for his first
class. He grins at Derek and smashes their mouths together, groaning when he's
quickly pressed tightly between the wall and hard muscle.
"Let's find out..." Derek whispers huskily against his mate's lips. He hefts
Stiles up so that he's pinned against the wall, slender legs wrapping around
his hips, before reaching between the boy's cheeks and playing with the plug
still keeping all of yesterday night's come inside. Twisting the plastic, he
begins drawing it out slowly and breathes in all of Stiles' moans and whines
when he pushes it back inside. He does it again and again until he gets bored
and pulls it out completely, but he doesn't throw it away just yet.
Stiles blinks his eyes open when something hard nudges insistently at his lips.
When he sees the plug in front of his face, glistening with Derek's come in the
harsh bathroom light, he flicks his eyes up to meet the man's glowing red pair
before taking it inside. He allows Derek to fuck his mouth with it, slurping
noisily around it and swallowing all of the come he can get off its warm
surface. The fact that the plug is warm because it was just buried deep inside
of his own ass is delightfully dirty, and it makes his cock twitch with
interest between their stomachs. Eventually, the delectable taste of Derek's
come lessens to the point where all he can detect is plastic, and he grunts
once to let the man know he's had enough. He almost gets down to the widest
part of the plug when Derek presses it in one last time, but then the wolf
drops it with a thud to the bottom of the shower and reaches back down to play
with his gaping hole. Come has been leaking steadily out ever since the plug
was withdrawn, and he bangs his head back against the wall as he feels fingers
penetrate him deep, forcing even more of the stuff out.
Just to make sure Stiles is still open enough, Derek doesn't stop until he gets
up to four digits. Only then does he allow his fingers to leave that welcoming
warmth, but instead of shoving his cock straight inside like they both want, he
holds his hand up in front of Stiles' face.
As he thought, the boy immediately begins licking up the length of his arm,
lapping up every drop of come than ran out of his ass. Derek thinks Stiles
looks absolutely beautiful. The teen's skin shines with his piss, his eyelashes
clumped together and his hair dripping with the cooling liquid, and the sight
of it all makes him hunger. While Stiles is still preoccupied with collecting
come, he closes the distance between them and licks his own wide stripes up the
side of the boy's face, collecting the piss clinging to his skin. He doesn't
swallow any of it, and when Stiles is done cleaning off his arm and blinks at
him with his lips still parted around heavy breaths, he spits it all into the
boy's waiting mouth.
Stiles is shocked at first, but he quickly gets with it and opens wide as Derek
repeats the process.
Minutes later, when he runs out of skin to lick, Derek wastes no more time. He
reaches between them and lines the head of his cock up with Stiles' hole,
snapping his hips forward and burying himself balls-deep inside with one
thrust. Not even thinking of waiting for the boy to get used to him, he starts
up a brutal rhythm and grunts with the exertion, Stiles' arms wrapping around
his shoulders, short nails digging into the back of his neck.
After being hard for so long, it doesn't take him long to feel a fire stirring
in his lower stomach, telling him that his orgasm is fast approaching. He
concentrates on not letting his knot form, smirking arrogantly when he finds
he's actually able to do it.
Before Stiles knows what's going on, Derek is thrusting in one, two, three more
times before coming to a sudden stop and groaning into his neck. When he feels
the man's cock jerking inside of his ass, he realises what's happening and
starts working his hand over his own re-hardened length to bring himself off,
too. He wants Derek to feel his ass clamping down hard.
He almost whites out when it hits, and he gasps when Derek's hand wraps around
his to help.
They stay there for what seems like forever, stuck in the grips of their
orgasms and each other. Stiles stares at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, and
just concentrates on all of his other senses. His heart beats wildly in his
ears, Derek's body is almost burning hot against his, and the stench of come
and piss and sweat clogs up his nose. The three scents are intoxicating and
something he doesn't want to ever stop smelling. He could die right then and
there and go happily, but of course that doesn't happen. Derek finally seems to
come back to himself about a minute later and picks his head up again, smiling
shyly up at him with red cheeks and pink-tipped ears. The sight of his wolf
looking so adorably pleased and sated is enough to make him move, his hands
stroking softly through the dark strands of Derek's hair and over the rasp of
his beard. "God, that was hot..." he gasps after Derek steps back and he
untangles his limbs from around the man's body, his legs lowering and his feet
hitting the shower floor again.
It's still slick with the last of their combined piss and come.
Derek hums his agreement, pulling Stiles into his arms again and pressing their
mouths together. Now that he's not caught up in the moment, the smell of his
own fluids seems to pervade the air more noticeably, a find that taps into the
most animalistic parts of his mind and earns their approval.
He can taste himself on Stiles' tongue, so he sucks the slick muscle into his
mouth to get more of it as his hands slide around to the teen's back to stroke
soothingly up and down. The whole stall positively stinks of them, and he
almost doesn't want to let Stiles go again when the boy eventually ends the
kiss and steps back to gasp for air. He desperately wants to beg Stiles to skip
school and stay there with him all day, doing the whole thing over and over
again until they tire themselves out.
Unfortunately, he knows that can't happen. Stiles' schooling is important to
both of them and he doesn't want to be the reason the teen fails. So when
Stiles turns on the shower and steps beneath the spray to finally begin getting
ready for the day, he stays quiet and dutifully takes his turn when the boy
moves aside to begin soaping up his body.
"We'll definitely be doing that again, just so you know," Stiles announces
casually after he moves on to his hair. Derek is stood behind him and he has
his head tilted back to allow the alpha to work the shampoo into a thick
lather. "Maybe every morning, even... You could just just lie back and go right
down my throat instead of having to get up to use the toilet. That'd be pretty
hot, I bet." When Derek's hands come to stop and he hears a sudden intake of
breath, he knows without needing to ask that the man agrees with him
wholeheartedly. He smiles, proud of himself, as he turns and pushes his wolf
out of the way so that he can wash the shampoo from his hair, humming a made-up
tune under his breath as he does so. His suggestion seems to have rendered
Derek speechless, and he pats the man sweetly on his bearded cheek and coos at
him as he makes to exit the shower and dry himself off. He hopes he's done a
good enough job of cleaning himself up that the betas won't be able to tell
what he and Derek spent the morning doing.
As unashamed of their kinks as he is, he still doesn't want them knowing; he'd
never hear the end of it.
Once he's dry, he drops the damp towel in the laundry hamper to wash later and
leaves for the bedroom to get dressed. He keeps things relatively simple—a dark
green button-down and a pair of mustard-coloured chinos—and sprays himself
liberally with some of Derek's cologne to cover any traces of piss or come that
may have lingered after his shower. With the betas' noses, he knows he can
never be too careful.
Derek joins him in the bedroom a couple of minutes later, with his hair still
damp and a towel wrapped around his waist. Stiles watches as the man dresses
from where he sits leisurely on the bed, leaning back on his hands and wolf
whistling when the towel is dropped to the floor.
He grins and waggles his eyebrows at Derek when the man turns and looks back
over his shoulder. Derek tries to look unimpressed, but Stiles still sees the
corner of the wolf's mouth quirk upward before he turns back to the dresser to
hide it. Like he does every time he manages to get Derek to smile, he gets a
deep sense of satisfaction, especially because he knows just how hard the man's
life has been. It feels good to be able to make him smile like that, if only a
little bit. Unfortunately, Derek takes away the fantastic view he has of his
ass and tattooed back when he steps into tight underwear and dark jeans, and
Stiles pouts his disappointment when Derek slips a maroon Henley on over his
head and leaves the room with a wink. "Spoilsport..." he mumbles as he makes to
follow the man.
Before he leaves the room, he grabs a pair of clean socks from the top drawer
and quickly slips them on—not caring that they don't match—and practically
skips his way downstairs, noting with a nod that Derek has placed his bag ready
for him beside the front door. In the kitchen, he finds said man sat at the
island, two mugs of coffee cooling in front of him.
Stiles takes his mug and smiles at Derek gratefully as he takes his first sip.
Since he doesn't have time to make anything complicated for breakfast—their fun
in the shower took less time than he thought, but he still doesn't have any to
spare—he sticks to something simple: a bowl of oatmeal each with a spoonful of
Nutella dumped on top. After putting Derek's bowl down next to his coffee, he
takes his own stool on the opposite side of the island before tucking in. He
moans as he eats his first mouthful, the Nutella turning what would otherwise
be quite a bland meal into something rich and chocolatey. If it wasn't so
terrible for him, he would sit and eat the stuff straight from the jar until he
emptied it. "So...what are you getting up to today?" he asks after a minute,
when he hears the telltale sounds of Derek scraping his spoon along the bottom
of his bowl to collect the last few hazelnut-y oats. He himself is only about
halfway done with his breakfast, but it's not a surprise; he's long since
stopped marvelling at how fast Derek can pack away food, and he turns on his
stool to watch as the man rinses out his now-empty bowl and turns it upside
down on the drying rack.
"Nothing much," Derek replies, leaning back against the counter as he dries his
hands with a fresh dishtowel. "I'll probably be working all day until you get
home, but after that I have nothing planned. We can do whatever. If that pack
doesn't disturb us, that is..."
Snorting, Stiles shoves the last spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth before
rinsing and putting his bowl next to Derek's. Glancing down at his phone, he
sighs when he sees that it's time for him to leave for school and pulls his
mate into a tight hug. "Love you, Sourwolf. Thanks for last night...and this
morning," he whispers in the man's ear. Quickly, he grabs a handful of Derek's
firm ass and presses his lips to the corner of the wolf's mouth before
scurrying away, ready to get the school day over with.
                                     * * *
After pulling to a stop in his usual space, Stiles finds Isaac waiting for him,
like always.
The moment of truth. Well...here goes nothing, he thinks as he exits his
Camaro, praying that the curly-haired beta won't detect any scents that will
give away what he and Derek got up to. "Hey, puppy!" he greets cheerily,
ruffling Isaac's hair as they begin making their way inside the main building.
Isaac soaks up the attention, a definite bounce in his step as he waits for
Stiles to put some books away in his locker. "You're in a good mood," he
observes, his eyes narrowing suspiciously when a blush spreads across the other
boy's cheeks. It goes all the way down beneath the collar of Stiles' shirt,
telling him unequivocally that the human teen is definitely selfishly hiding
something good from him. When Stiles begins walking again without a word in
return, he smirks evilly and slings an arm around his shoulders to slow him
down. The move has a second motive, too: it allows him to get a good whiff of
his pack mother without having to be obvious about it, and he finds the
faintest trace of something musky. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a
certain smoking-hot alpha, would it?"
Resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface, Stiles
keeps his mouth shut and lets himself be steered toward their first period.
When he enters the classroom, he shrugs Isaac's arm off and sits down between
Lydia and Erica in hopes of fending off anymore unwanted questions. His plan
doesn't quite work out, though, because the two girls immediately pounce on him
as well.
"You got laid, didn't you?" Erica asks gleefully as soon as Stiles' ass touches
the chair.
She doesn't bother to keep her voice down, so she giggles when every other head
in the room turns in their direction, curious to hear more of the conversation.
The audience doesn't bother her in the slightest—she wouldn't say she has an
exhibitionistic streak, but it never deters her, either. It does apparently
affect Stiles, though, which is exactly what stops her from trying to get
everybody else to turn away again. Twirling a long lock of blonde hair around
her finger, she leans forward in her seat to get a better look at Stiles' face
and giggles again when she sees how determinedly the boy seems to be ignoring
her. "Yeah, you got laid... Now, c'mon! Spill the details!" She pats Stiles on
the shoulder to try and get his attention focused on her instead of the
blackboard and pouts when it doesn't work. "Please?" she whines long and loud,
drawing out the word unnecessarily until the boy slaps a hand over her mouth to
silence her.
"You're insufferable!" Stiles whispers, taking his hand back and wiping it off
on his chinos when Erica licks his palm defiantly. After glaring the other
students into finally looking away, he leans sideways and hisses his next words
in the blonde's face, his eyes narrowed. "If answering you will shut you up,
then yes, I did 'get laid' as you so kindly put it. Now, that's all I'm going
to say on the matter, so please will you stop trying to embarrass me and
shush?!"
When Erica mimes zipping her lips, he leans back and cautiously relaxes into
his seat. Thankfully, his admittance seems to satiate Erica and Isaac's
appetites for gossip enough for him to get through the hour without another
inappropriate remark from either of them.
He hopes it'll continue for the remainder of the day, but he's not willing to
put any money down.
Sure enough, while they're waiting in the lunch line a couple of hours later,
Stiles is accosted by the pair again as they spew more questions at him that he
doesn't want to answer. He glowers his way to his seat at their usual table and
sits down with a groan next to Allison, his forehead connecting painfully with
the tabletop when he continues to be hounded.
The questions get more and more lewd as the hour wears on. They start off
simple, like how it happened or if it was hot, before devolving into filth.
Erica even has the nerve to ask none too quietly if Derek bent him over and
knotted him good and proper or if he rode the alpha's brains out until they
both came all over each other. Subtlety is lost on the girl, apparently. Nobody
comes to his rescue, either; everyone else seems to get immense amusement out
of his suffering, especially Danny and Jackson, though the latter's laughter is
far more snide than the former's.
"I hate my life... I hate my life," Stiles mumbles to himself before beginning
to eat, refusing to answer any of the questions for the whole lunch period.
He's the first to leave the table when the bell rings, dumping his tray on the
rack with a clatter before exiting the room and storming off to Chemistry.
The class will oddly be his saviour; Charlie always takes the seat next to him,
meaning Isaac won't be able to pester him any longer.
Speaking of the girl, as he's getting his notebook out, he notices something in
the bottom of his bag. A closer inspection reveals it to be Charlie's phone,
which he'd completely forgotten about. The timing couldn't be more perfect, so
he plans on returning the device to its owner as soon as she walks through the
door. Unfortunately, that moment never comes. Charlie's seat remains empty for
the duration of the class, and he frowns to himself when the hour comes to an
end and she still hasn't turned up. It's not too unusual—she's been absent from
school before—so he doesn't worry too much. He just feels a little bad for
still having her phone because he knows he'd feel bereft without having his own
always at the ready in his pocket. When Ms. Adler finally lets them all leave,
he gets out Charlie's phone again and tries switching it on, thinking that
perhaps he can find her home number and see if coming by the house later to
drop it off would be alright. Unfortunately, it never powers on, having
probably gone flat days ago.
Dropping the device back into his bag, Stiles hurries to his next class before
he's late, and he just manages to slide into his seat next to Lydia before
their teacher walks into the room and calls everyone to order. The redhead
sends him a judgemental look when the teacher turns away for a second, but he
waves her off and pretends to focus on the complicated equations currently
being written up across the blackboard.
It prevents him from seeing any other pointed glances the girl throws his way.
                                     * * *
Stiles sees no sign of Charlie for the rest of the day, so as he leaves he
decides to stick to his earlier plan of dropping by her house and returning her
phone then. First, though, he has some errands to run in town, and he makes his
first stop at the local frame store to pick up an order.
Now that the pack is back together and acting amiably toward each other—at
least when he's around—it feels nice to see the photograph he accidentally
smashed be whole again. He sets it reverently on the passenger seat before
turning his keys in the ignition and setting off for the grocery store. Because
he didn't eat much at all during his time away, Derek's appetite has seemed
even more voracious than normal, which has ended with their cupboards being
completely bare, everything the betas left untouched going right into the
alpha's stomach. He doesn't mind, though, not when it means the man has started
to pack back on the muscle mass he lost over the past month or so.
Grabbing one of the large shopping carts, he pushes it around the supermarket
and grunts under the effort it takes to continue pushing it. He loads more and
more items into it and makes it heavier, leading him to wish that Derek was
there to do it for him. As much as he likes being self-reliant, he doesn't mind
it when the man lords his superior strength over him on their shopping trips
together.
The other instances in which he doesn't mind are embarrassingly obvious to
everyone.
After squeezing several boxes of chocolate Pop Tarts into his cart, he steers
it toward the checkout and gets in line behind a rather rotund woman and her
husband. The man holds what he guesses is a two-year-old girl in his arms, and
while he waits he makes silly faces at her when she turns to stare at him over
her father's shoulder. Both parents cotton on to what he's doing soon after the
toddler begins laughing and clapping at his antics, but neither of them stop
him. Another fives minutes later, the small family is gone and he's stacking
his own purchases on the conveyer belt and bagging it all up on the other side
of the register almost immediately afterward. It takes some time for the man
behind the till to scan everything, but they make inane small talk to get it to
go by faster. Stiles thinks that the man looks only a few years older than him,
and from the look in his eyes, he gets the impression that he's recognised.
It's not that unheard of because he used to be the sheriff's son, but a quick
flick of his eyes down to the man's name tag doesn't ring any bells.
It's when he's driving home with all the groceries loaded into the back of his
car that he sees them: Charlie and Elizabeth are walking down one of the
streets in the heart of town, and they both carry a nondescript brown paper bag
in their arms.
Stiles briefly considers trying to find a parking spot nearby and quickly
running up to give the girl her phone, but as he edges closer in his car he
sees that both of them appear embroiled in an intense conversation full of
wildly gesticulating hands. Elizabeth's face looks frustrated and angry and
Charlie looks tired and on the verge of tears. He decides its best if he
doesn't interrupt them, so he presses his foot down with more force on the
pedal and continues the drive home.
As he passes by, Charlie's head turns in his direction.
In the rearview mirror, he just catches the way her anxious expression gets
worse when she sees him before she disappears from view. The look seems
strange, but after some thinking he just boils it down to almost being caught
getting yelled at by her mother. He definitely wouldn't have wanted any of his
friends to witness him being reprimanded by his dad any of the numerous times
he incurred the man's wrath growing up. He'll forget about the phone for now
and try again to return it the next day if Charlie is in school again. Before
he knows it, he's pulling to stop next to Derek's black car and getting out to
bring the shopping into the house. The alpha comes out as soon as he opens the
driver's-side door and lends him a hand, his aforementioned strength getting
shown off by the fact that he's able to managed about three times as many bags
as Stiles in one trip. The way the load makes Derek's biceps bulge obscenely is
worth the blow to his masculinity, though.
The last thing to be brought into the house is the newly reframed pack photo,
which he hangs up in its place on the living room wall as soon as he shuts the
front door. He steps back to admire it and thinks that the dark brown frame
goes well with the yellow paint.
Entering the kitchen, Stiles finds that Derek has already made a start at
putting away the groceries, quickly filling up all of the cupboards, the fridge
and the pantry once more. The only downside to his new car is that he cannot
fit as much inside as he could in the Jeep, but even though he adored that old
hunk of junk, he loves the Camaro more and wouldn't go back for anything. He
snaps out of his thoughts when Derek bumps their hips together on his way past,
and he grins at the man's playfulness and gives back as good as he gets.
It becomes like a fight to see who can make the other laugh more.
Of course, because Derek is the more stoic of the two of them, he wins easily
and almost reduces Stiles to a giggling puddle on the floor. The last box of
Pop Tarts put away, Derek helps the teen remain upright and steers him into the
living room to sit down until he regains the use of his legs. "I'm gonna
squeeze in a quick session downstairs before dinner, so I'll see you later,
love," he tells the boy, running a hand softly through his hair before leaving
the room to change into his workout gear.
Calmed down again, Stiles relaxes back into the sofa cushions and watches
meaningless television to pass the time until he has to start cooking. He
doesn't pay much attention to what actually happens on the screen, letting the
dialogue fade into white noise as his eyes slip closed.
When his pocket beeps, he jumps and pulls out his phone, remembering that he
still has Charlie's at the same time. Because it seems like a nice thing for
him to do, he decides to charge the girl's phone before giving it back the next
day and makes a quick trip upstairs to his and Derek's bedroom to retrieve his
cable. After he plugs it in downstairs and leaves it on the table, he figures
he might as well get a start at cooking dinner since he's already up. His
earlier shopping trip means he has almost endless choices as to what he can
make, so it takes some to come to a decision. It's when he's slicing up
potatoes in order to roast them that he hears a buzzing coming from the living
room. Stepping away from the chopping board, he goes to investigate and finds
Charlie's phone has powered itself on again and a new message has popped up on
the screen. In the time it takes him to assess the situation, he accidentally
reads the first few words of the text and gets curious, not even realising what
a breach of privacy it is until it's too late and the phone is in his hand.
By that point, though, he doesn't care anymore. It's from Elizabeth, sent half
an hour ago:
'Don't you dare think of getting cold feet now, young lady! We're close to
getting what we came here for, so close to getting justice for your father, and
I've already told you time and again not to get sucked in by how nice they
seem. You think your new little 'friend' won't turn on you if you let slip that
we're on to them? It's all an act; they're dangerous, they're murderers, and
you can't trust them. You know how many people they've killed, how much grief
they're responsible for. I'm going out to get the last few things we need for
the ritual, and I want to see a different attitude from you by the time I get
back. Be prepared to get to work when I do.'
Stiles frowns down at the screen, hitting the home button over and over when it
keeps going dark so that he can reread the strange message. He knows it's
referring to him and the pack, but he can't quite connect all of the pieces
together and make it make sense.
The fact that everything started happening shortly after Charlie and Elizabeth
moved to town, Charlie's recent shifty behaviour, her unexplained absences from
school, the fact that Elizabeth just happened to know what curse was afflicting
Isaac... Without even thinking to inform Derek of where he's going, Stiles
drops everything and races for the door, slamming it shut and peeling down the
road in the direction of Charlie's house without giving a damn about breaking
the speed limit.
He wants answers, and he's determined to get them.
Slowing down when he nears the street Charlie and Elizabeth's house is on, he
cruises carefully along until it comes into view and breathes a sigh of relief
when he sees that the woman's car isn't in the driveway. He's glad that
Elizabeth hasn't returned from her errand yet because if she truly is the one
responsible for all of the pack's recent hardships, then she's incredibly
dangerous. Dealing with her on his own without backup wouldn't be a smart idea.
Pulling up the parking brake, he climbs out of his car and marches up to the
front door with Charlie's phone still in hand, ready to confront her about the
strange text. He's not gentle when he knocks, and he huffs impatiently as he
waits for the door to swing inward and reveal his newest 'friend'. Once it does
and Charlie is standing right in front of him, he doesn't even give her a
chance to ask him what he's doing there and just sticks the phone up in her
face. "What the hell is this?" he asks angrily, not bothering to keep his
emotions out of his voice. They're probably too strong for that to even be an
option anyway.
When Charlie's eyes widen in fear and she slams the door again, the sound of
the lock sliding into place following shortly after, he knows his earlier
assumptions were correct. It hurts to know that he trusted someone and let them
into his life, only to have that trust thrown back in his face.
That hurt doesn't do anything to calm him down, and after a quick look up and
down the street, he's glad that no one else is around to witness his next move.
Recalling everything he was feeling after he witnessed Scott's misguided
confrontation of Derek and adding it to his emotions now, he lets all of that
rage fill his body and hopes that this time he can actually control how his
powers react to it.
Pressing his palm flat to the door, he tries to channel the energy he can feel
coursing through his veins down his arm and into his hand. It's a strange
sensation, more intense than what he feels when he uses the fire the Nogitsune
gave him, and it's difficult to wrangle it and keep it under his control. After
a few more seconds of focus, he thinks he's gathered enough and with a push, he
blasts the door inward off its hinges. He hears Charlie scream from inside the
house, a shrill sound, as the wood splinters down the middle and flies several
feet to land with a crash on the stairs.
Stepping into the house, he finds the girl cowering behind the living room
sofa.
"Stiles, please..." Charlie begs, her eyes darting to the door that leads
through to the kitchen. Her whole body shakes and she takes several gasping
breaths to try and calm herself down again as the boy approaches and comes to a
stop on the other side of the coffee table.
"There's no use in running," Stiles says coolly, not feeling a single ounce of
pity for the girl in front of him. He kicks aside the coffee table and
overturns it, not caring that the mug and bowl of fruit that was on its surface
both end up smashing to pieces on the floor. "Now, you're going answer every
single one of my questions, because good God, do you have some serious
explaining to do. How you answer those questions will determine the outcome of
this conversation. Understood?" When Charlie doesn't respond, her eyes
continuing to flick about the room as if looking for an escape route, he sighs
like he's disappointed before flinging an arm out and sending the sofa she
hides behind sliding along the floor. It slams into and leaves a dent in the
wall. He feels no remorse for the property damage, especially not when Charlie
finally attempts to flee. She makes it about three feet before Stiles holds his
palm out, impeding her progress and sending her colliding roughly with the
wall. She's unable to even move a finger, and tears begin forming in her eyes
when he closes the remaining distance between them.
The clear fear on Charlie's face doesn't stop Stiles from holding her there;
he's willing to do whatever he has to in order to protect the people he loves.
"I believe I asked you a question," he says threateningly, crossing his arms
over his chest and staring the girl down. He waits until she whimpers out an
'OK' before continuing. "Now...I want to know absolutely everything; who you
and your mom really are, why you came here, what you want with me and the pack,
why you lied to me and pretended we were friends all this time...
"Everything."
Scared for her life, Charlie knows she's stuck and that there's no point in
lying. "Me and my mom really did move here from Florida, but it wasn't to get a
fresh start or whatever she told you and Derek..." she begins, swallowing
tightly after she tries to move and again finds that she can't.
Now that the girl has actually started spilling, Stiles flips the coffee table
back into place and sits.
It seems unlikely that he'll need to use further intimidation on her. He holds
Charlie's phone tightly in his right hand and digs the nails of his left into
his thigh so that he has something to ground him when the girl really gets
going, not wanting to interrupt her and potentially cause her to clam up again.
Everything that pours from her mouth is like a fresh slap in the face.
"My dad really did go missing when I was nine. For the longest time I had no
idea what happened to him, and neither did my mom," Charlie explains, staring
down at her clasped hands. "Then, one day, about three months ago, she came
home and told me she had news, that she found the people responsible for dad's
disappearance and she had a plan to deal with them before they could hurt
anyone else. We packed everything up and moved clear across the country to
here. The most important part of the plan was that I get in good with the
people that killed my dad, so my mom watched you guys for a couple of weeks to
see who would be most likely to befriend me. Just before you and Derek left to
go on vacation, she decided on you, so I changed everything about myself in
order to endear myself to you. I'd never even dyed my hair before... You have
to understand: for years it's just been the two of us and she'd never lead me
wrong before, so I trusted everything she said and went along with it, even
when I found out that the people she said killed my dad were a pack of
werewolves consisting mainly of people my own age."
"C'mon, you must've thought that was strange," Stiles interjects disbelievingly
when Charlie pauses to take a breath. "A group of nine-year-olds travelled from
California to Florida and did away with your dad. Yup...makes perfect sense!"
His voice drips with sarcasm.
Charlie looks distinctly embarrassed. "My mom told me she'd done a lot of
investigating and found it was like a cult, that Derek and that man, Deaton,
were also a part of it. She said there were others, too, but that they died
shortly after taking my dad. But that wasn't enough—she told me that before
their death, they got more people to believe in their ways, and those people
were you guys."
"'Believe in their ways'? What does that even mean?" Stiles asks, shaking his
head.
"I never asked... Whatever my mom said was true, was law," Charlie excuses,
feeling braver and more at ease now that Stiles isn't so outwardly angry
anymore. "I didn't even think about how it doesn't actually make any sense. I
loved and missed my dad so much and I was so glad to have any sort of
explanation about what happened to him that I just bought into it blindly. My
mom warned me that you wouldn't seem bad at first, but she also told me about
everything that's happened in this town over the past few years and put all the
blame for it on your heads.
"It would be like killing two birds with one stone—we would get justice for my
dad, while also saving everyone else from being potential victims in the
future. I tried to keep in mind what my mom said about you, but I started to
doubt her when I saw how fucking nice you all were.
"You all seemed to love and genuinely care for one another. That's what me and
my mom were fighting about when you saw us in town earlier. We had just picked
up some spell ingredients when I told her I wasn't sure what we were doing was
right anymore. She got angry and started yelling at me, but stopped when she
saw we were drawing an audience. Now I don't know what to think. I mean, she's
my mom, you know? She's the only family I have left and I love her, but then
there's you guys... I haven't seen any of what she told me I would eventually,
none of the evil or anything that makes me think you're the bad guys she said
you were." Charlie looks down at Stiles pleadingly, begging him silently to
understand and forgive, to let her go. She gives up after a few seconds when
she sees not even a hint of any of that in the boy's eyes. "What we're doing
just feels so fucking wrong now! I saw what the curses were doing to you and
Lydia and the others, even if they weren't working how they should be, and I
told my mom I thought we should stop-"
Stiles interrupts Charlie before she can get any further.
"Wait, what do you mean the curses haven't been working properly?!" he demands,
some of his anger returning with the confirmation that Charlie knew about what
was happening to the pack all along. There was a small voice in the back of his
mind that was hanging on to their friendship, hoping that while Charlie had
some part in everything her mother was doing, she didn't actually know about
the torment he and his pack were experiencing.
The fact that the girl sat back and did nothing while his and Derek's
relationship was almost destroyed leaves him fuming.
Looking more hesitant now, Charlie averts her eyes from Stiles' and bites
guiltily at her bottom lip as she waits for her courage to build. She only
looks back when it does. "My mom tried explaining it to me, but I didn't really
understand it—while I know a little about all of this magic stuff, it's still
new to me," she excuses, gasping when Stiles' eyes begin glowing. She takes
that as a clear sign to hurry up with her clarification. "Anyway, she said that
because of how strong you are, you give the pack some sort of protection just
by being in it. And because you're the alpha's mate, your bond with Derek makes
that protection even stronger.
"The curses should've done more damage, but they only did about a third of what
my mom thought they would because of you. That's what the ingredients we bought
today are supposed to be for: some sort of ritual that will grant her more
power, enough to render your protection useless."
"How did you mom even find out about us?" Stiles enquires after mulling over
Charlie's words.
"She has a helper of sorts," Charlie answers, biting her lip again and drawing
blood this time. "I don't know who they are—I've never met or even seen
them—but apparently they used to be good friends. They'd heard tales of a new
pack growing in Beacon Hills, one with a member who had the 'potential for
greatness', as they put it. My mom never told me any of this, I guess because
she didn't want me to know what her true motives for coming here were, but I
overheard them talking on the phone yesterday evening. She was annoyed that her
plans to take all of you out weren't working, and that's when they came up with
the ritual thing. I don't know what it is, but it's supposed to involve
siphoning off power from some ancient object somewhere around here, which will
enable her to cast curses strong enough to get rid of everyone in the pack and
leave you and your magic alone for the taking. That's another thing I've been
noticing recently that made me begin to question things: how power-hungry my
mom's been getting. She was never like that when I was a kid..."
Stiles doesn't like the sound of that. He's had more than enough experience
with people trying to steal his magic to last him a lifetime, and he definitely
doesn't want any more. "So, let me get this straight..." he retorts, pushing
himself to his full height and staring up at Charlie with eyes full of
judgement. "You lied and pretended to be this shy, meek girl in order to get
close to me and find out anything and everything about my pack, just so your
mom could kill us all and steal my magic?
"I swear, all you villains need to get some more original schemes..." He says
this last part to himself.
In that moment, Charlie's phone vibrates in his hand as another text comes in,
and he ignores the girl when her head comes up and she looks longingly at the
device. Instead, he checks the message himself and sighs when he reads the
words.
"You're in luck. I'm going to have to cut this interrogation short," he
announces, letting the phone fall to the floor. "Your mom's on her way back,
and I'd really rather not be here when she arrives. I probably shouldn't even
be offering this, but you need to pick a side, Charlie, because I promise you
now, when this all comes to a head, your mom and her little accomplice aren't
getting out of it alive. They've done too much damage already for me to let
them get away with it, so I'm going to kill them before they can do any more.
You need to decide if you want to join them."
With that last warning, he storms out of the house.
***** Trust *****
Stiles has to pull over on the side of the road to think when he's about
halfway home. Whereas before he was focused solely on getting an explanation,
now that he's no longer in the room with her, Charlie's betrayal begins
affecting him properly. It stings beyond belief, and when he looks back on the
past two months, he feels like such a fool for letting her into his life and
not seeing or just plain ignoring all of the signs he knows were there from the
start. The fact that he's coming down from the rush he got when he used his
powers doesn't help matters, leaving him feeling lethargic and listless. He
wonders briefly how much trouble Charlie will be in when Elizabeth returns to
the house before remembering that he shouldn't care anymore. She's no longer a
friend, and she doesn't deserve his consideration when she's given him none in
the time they've known each other. He thinks it would hurt less if she and her
mother had just presented their true motives right off the bat. The one upside
to how it's actually happened is that now he actually has time to prepare for
whatever Elizabeth's next move is.
He's been around enough power-hungry people recently to know that they'll keep
trying until they're stopped. Peter is his prime example, and the fact that the
man had to be killed twice, both times bloodily, doesn't make him feel very
good about how this latest threat is going to play out.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Stiles brings his car back to life and
continues on the journey home, mentally preparing himself to tell Derek
everything he's just learned and relive it all again. It's not going to be
easy, especially because he was the one to introduce her to the pack and bring
her into their lives. He knows that Derek won't blame him, though, which gives
him confidence. When the house comes into view, he sits behind the wheel for a
minute longer before getting out and going inside.
As he thought he would, Stiles finds Derek waiting for him in the foyer,
frowning.
"Where'd you go so suddenly?" Derek asks confusedly, uncrossing his arms and
approaching the teen. He can sense that something is wrong, but he can't put
his finger on the cause. When Stiles left, he was so caught up in his workout
that he didn't actually hear the front door slam, only realising that something
was up when the quiet rumble of the boy's Camaro reached his ears.
Gesturing for Derek to follow him, Stiles heads into the living room and falls
down onto the sofa tiredly, gangly legs sprawled out beneath the coffee table.
Derek takes his own seat more carefully, and Stiles can see that the alpha's
body is prepared for bad news, with tension running through every muscle and
his jaw clenched, twitching every couple of seconds. "I found out who's been
messing with us lately," he starts, running a hand down his face and slumping
even further back into the cushions until his ass almost hangs off of the seat.
He can easily tell that the sullen tone of his voice is worrying Derek even
more, but he doesn't bother to remedy it, knowing what he has to tell the man
will be a blow either way. "Charlie left her phone behind a couple of days ago,
and I was planning on returning it to her today at school, but she didn't show.
When I went to charge it, I saw something interesting... Very interesting. It's
Elizabeth that's been wreaking havoc on our lives, and Charlie's known about it
the whole time."
To say that Derek is surprised would be an understatement.
He knew there was something off about the girl from the first moment he saw
her, but he never could determine what exactly it was about her that made him
uneasy. In the end, because Stiles vouched for her, he just boiled it down to
simple jealousy and tried to put it out of his mind.
It's a betrayal of trust, to say the least, but he knows that the disbelief and
anger he's feeling must pale in comparison to the emotions running through
Stiles' head and heart. He shuffles sideways and drags the boy fully back onto
the sofa before cosying up close to his side. "Are you sure?" he asks
pointlessly as he rubs a hand up and down Stiles' arm in a feeble effort to
comfort him. It's a stupid question, because of course his mate would be sure.
Stiles wouldn't accuse a friend of something so heinous without hard evidence
to back it up.
"Yeah... She told me everything after I busted down her front door and trashed
the living room," Stiles mumbles despondently. "She confessed to Elizabeth
moving them over here to get to me because someone told her about the potential
I had in the magic I inherited from my mom. Y'know, I'm getting tired of people
trying to suck the magic from my body. Fucking assholes..."
"What else did she tell you?" Derek enquires.
Sighing, Stiles extricates himself from the alpha's hold and begins pacing
restlessly back and forth in the space between the coffee table and the
fireplace. When he speaks, it comes out in a rush, and Derek has difficulty
catching all of the words. "There's a third person helping Elizabeth do all of
this, but Charlie said she doesn't know who they are. She says she's never met
them, so there's still that to deal with. Also, these curses that have been
fucking us all up? They're not even what Elizabeth meant to do to us.
Apparently, me being mated to you, and just me being in the pack in general,
gives everyone enough magical protection that the effects of the curses were
softened. I don't even want to think about what their results would've been if
that was different..." He shudders. "I saw them earlier in town, right after I
finished shopping for groceries, and they were carrying two paper bags with
spell ingredients in them. Elizabeth is supposed to be performing some sort of
ritual that'll make her strong enough to finally do what she came here to do...
That'll be fun. We should see if we can stop her before that happens, though."
Derek watches Stiles pace for a while until he hears a telltale hitch in the
boy's breathing, at which point he gets up, too, and grabs hold of his
shoulders to stop him from walking any more. A panic attack wouldn't be good
for either of them right now, not under the current circumstances.
"Stiles, calm down!" he orders, a hint of begging in his voice. He waits until
Stiles' wild eyes meet his before continuing. "We can't do anything until you
get yourself under control, so come on and lie down." Derek guides his mate
until he's spread out along the length of the sofa, head pillowed in his lap. A
hand running through his hair seems to help Stiles rein his energy back in,
which in turn slows Derek's heart rate. "Better?" he asks after about a minute
has passed, resting his other hand in the centre of the boy's chest so that he
can feel his heart as well as hear it.
The fluttering pulse beneath his palm is comforting.
"She said she's been having doubts..." Stiles speaks quietly after taking a
series of deep breaths to completely calm himself down. He could feel the panic
attack coming on but couldn't stop himself from talking and riling himself up
even more, so it's a good thing Derek sensed it, too. He expands on his words
when the man hums questioningly, never stopping the movement of his hand
through his hair.
"When she was explaining everything, Charlie said that she was having doubts,
that she was torn between believing all of the lies her mom told her or
believing what she'd seen while hanging out with us. I had to leave before
Elizabeth came back, but I left her with an ultimatum." He swallows tightly,
wondering what Derek will think of it. "Either she comes over to our side and
helps us stop her mom, or she dies, too." It's a strange thing to threaten
someone with their life, one that's uncomfortably close to the tactics of their
old enemies, but in this instance he knows it was a necessary evil. He hopes
the extremeness of the threat will help Charlie to see just how dire the
situation is and that she'll be swayed to make the right decision. Should push
come to shove, he'll follow through on it if she ends up getting his mate or
his friends hurt again, but he'd rather not have more blood on his hands,
especially not intentionally. Landon's life was enough.
Derek mulls over Stiles' words carefully.
At first, he's shocked that his mate would do something like that, but the more
he thinks it over, the more sense it makes. Stiles has always had a protective
streak a mile wide, and his heart is definitely big enough that he'd do
whatever it took to keep the people he loves safe, at the cost of other lives
or even his own. In the end, he decides resolutely that he'll back up his
mate's threat and that he'll carry it out himself to save Stiles the grief if
need be.
"You did the right thing," he assures, rubbing Stiles' chest through his shirt.
They lapse into silence then, neither one of them sure what else there is to
say. Derek leans back into the sofa cushions and breathes deep, trying to
centre himself and let go of his anxieties.
It wouldn't do anyone any good if his mind was too clogged up with them for him
to actually act. Even though they now know just who they have to look out
for—at least for the most part; there's still the mystery of Elizabeth's
accomplice to figure out—he needs to remain vigilant in case they're attacked
without warning. If he was in Elizabeth's shoes, he knows he'd be quick to make
his next move if his motives were found out, striking swiftly before his
enemies could prepare or attack first. He doesn't know the woman well—in fact,
he'd hesitate to even call her an acquaintance—but she seemed smart in both of
their short meetings. It wouldn't be good to underestimate her.
There's only one thing of which he's sure: when the time comes, he'll delight
in ripping Elizabeth's head off as retribution for making him assault his mate.
Perhaps he'll even dance on her grave.
He chuckles at the thought, cutting the sound off only when he realises it has
drawn Stiles' speculative gaze. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he gently lifts
Stiles' head off of his lap and stands, heading into the kitchen to take care
of dinner to give the boy a break. That doesn't seem to stop his mate from
joining him, though, as he finds out when he turns away from the open fridge
and finds him perched on the edge of the counter next to the stove, elbows
leaning on his knees and a small smile on his lips. He returns it. "We should
probably warn the pack," he points out as he pulls some dry spaghetti from its
packet and breaks it in half, dropping it into a large saucepan with some water
a second later. It begins to simmer. Next, he retrieves their chopping board
and a sharp knife and begins getting to work on a couple of onions. The
suggestion has its desired effect as it stops Stiles from potentially finally
asking him what he was laughing about, and he glances to the side to see that
the teen has his phone out now, tapping away on the screen. He types quickly.
Derek assumes that Stiles is sending off a text to everybody about his new
discovery, a theory that is proven right when the boy says as much. Dumping the
finely chopped onions into a large saucepan with some canned tomatoes, he turns
on the heat and waits until it heats up to begin adding other ingredients. "I
assume spaghetti bolognese is fine with you?" he asks over his shoulder.
"Sure," Stiles hums, locking and putting his phone down carefully on the
countertop. He leans back so that his head rests against the cupboard door
behind him, his hands laying awkwardly across his legs. "The pack'll be here
soon. I thought we should tell them in person."
"Good idea," Derek says supportively as he checks on the spaghetti.
The thought occurs to him that he should probably be cooking more food than he
is if the betas are making an appearance soon. What he has on now will only
fill his and Stiles' stomachs, but he can't be bothered to put more in the
saucepans. The other teenagers can just ransack the cupboards for junk food
again for all he cares. Almost as if they were listening to his thoughts,
looking for the perfect time to make their entrance, as soon as the last word
runs through his mind, he hears the front door swing open, followed by a
multitude of heavy footsteps. The betas seem to pause as one, no doubt raising
their noses in the air as they get their first whiffs of the cooking food.
Before he knows it, Derek is pushed out of the way when Scott and Isaac
immediately make a beeline for the spaghetti, and he smirks at them when they
look back at him, confused. "Sorry," he says, not meaning it at all, "that's
mine and Stiles' dinner. Get your own." With that, he shoves them off to the
side, a little more rough than he ordinarily would be, in retaliation for doing
the same to him a few seconds earlier. He's thankful that everyone else had the
good sense to stay back.
Stiles holds a hand up and grins at Derek when the man meets him in a perfect
high five.
"What's this about?" Lydia enquires impatiently while the betas follow Derek's
instruction and begin clearing out the cupboards, fridge and pantry, her eyes
on Stiles.
"That can wait until everyone is ready," Stiles states confidently, maintaining
eye contact with Lydia until she sighs and walks away again, giving in. After
years of seeing her dominate absolutely everybody in her life, it amazes him
still that Lydia allows him to order her around from time to time. It doesn't
happen often, but he feels a thrill every time it does, making him feel
special.
About ten minutes later, everyone gathers around the large table in the dining
room and takes their respective seats, all of them continuing to stare at
Stiles expectantly. He almost cowers under all of the attention but
determinedly holds his head high, almost feeling like a parent wanting to
maintain an air of strength for their children. It's a strange idea, and when
Derek enters the room with two bowls filled to almost overflowing with
spaghetti bolognese, he can't help picturing the two of them married and
sitting down to dinner with their own kids at the end of a long day. The image
makes him panic a little, so he shakes it from his head and sighs in relief
when it disappears, replaced again with the reason why he brought the pack over
in the first place. All things in time, Stiles, he tells himself, feeling far
too young to have his own family—he hasn't even finished high school yet, after
all—but knowing that he wants one eventually. He's certain that Derek would
make an amazing dad, almost as much as he is that he'd end up being the
disciplinarian.
When Derek starts twirling spaghetti around his fork and eating, Stiles starts
talking:
"Right... I just found out something that affects all of us in a major way." If
the betas had dog's ears, he's sure he would see them perk up on the tops of
their heads. "Charlie's mother, Elizabeth, is the one who's been hounding us
recently, and Charlie's been in on it from the get-go," he announces.
Like Stiles was expecting, every single one of them looks shocked, even Lydia,
who normally prides herself on knowing absolutely everything. He goes on to
repeat all he told Derek when he returned home. It's slow going because he has
to keep pausing to field questions from the others as he goes, but eventually
he reaches the end of his tale for a second time and the last enquiry is
answered. His dinner is going cold, so he hands the conversation off to Derek
so he can actually start eating it.
"What are we going to do?" Cora asks, eyes flicking nervously between her
brother and Stiles.
Her voice comes out even and neutral-sounding, but her eyes give away just how
much the news is really hitting her. Even though she hasn't done anything to
follow up on her and Charlie's relationship—if there was even a relationship
there to chase to begin with—she still feels the blow deeply, the hurt probably
second only to Stiles'.
"That's what we called you all over here to discuss..." Derek replies, leaning
forward and resting his elbows on either side of his empty bowl. "Since this
affects all of you, too, we thought out next move should be something we all
decide together. At the moment, while we know a little, we don't know enough
about Elizabeth's next move to think up a counterstrategy. I was thinking about
doing some recon to see if I can see or overhear anything valuable," Stiles'
head pops up at this, his eyes wide with shock, "but I want every one of you to
stay out of that and let me do it alone. She's strong, and I don't want to risk
any of you getting caught. Until we come up with a good plan of attack,
whenever you see either of them around town or in school, or wherever, I want
you to walk immediately in the opposite direction. Do not confront them. Stick
together and don't go anywhere alone. Power in numbers and all that. If she
succeeds in getting the power she needs, she'll be even more dangerous and
there'll be no telling what she could do to you."
Every face in the room looks grim, listening to every word Derek says with such
incredible focus that it's uncharacteristic for many of them. Stiles is glad
that they're taking the warning so seriously. They finish their food quietly
and clear off and spread out around the house to do their own things.
Stiles grabs hold of Derek's arm before he can leave, too.
"What's this about you spying on Elizabeth? Alone?" he demands after dragging
the man into the study and shutting the door for a more private conversation.
He shoves Derek down into a chair and keeps him there with a stern look, hands
on his hips. "If you think I'm gonna let you go near her after what she did to
you then you're insane. You're actually insane."
Derek's confused expression changes into understanding, softness appearing in
his eyes instead of irritation at being manhandled unexpectedly. Standing
slowly so as not to accidentally set Stiles off again, he walks the short
distance between them until he's stood before the teen, his arms fitting
themselves around the other's waist in a move so practised that it's automatic.
"It'll be fine, love. I'll be careful," he assures, foreheads meeting as he
bumps their noses together sweetly. Stiles sighs shakily against his lips, and
he takes that as the perfect opportunity for a kiss.
Their mouths slide smoothly across one other and he feels the boy's grudging
smile appear against him, a crack in the sternness the was borne from loving
worry. "I promise I'll be back here before you know it, safe and sound," he
whispers, stealing one last kiss before backing away.
"You'd better..." Stiles replies as Derek slips from the room.
                                     * * *
As soon as Stiles leaves the house, Charlie feels whatever hold the boy had on
her suddenly disappear. She crumples to the floor in a heap, ragged breaths
falling from her lips as she tries to keep herself together. Being a victim to
Stiles' power was terrifying, and she never would've guessed that he was
capable of being so ruthless. Even though she genuinely feared for her life, it
did help her make up her mind about what to do: she knows that everything
Stiles did to her home and to her was only him trying to protect the people he
loves from being hurt again, and this cements the decision in her head that
she'll defect from her mother's mission. If Stiles and his pack will take it,
she'll offer her help to bring her mother down, even though the woman is the
last family she has left. There's such a deep sense of finality to the decision
that a tear builds in her eye, like she's already begun mourning her mother
even though she still lives. Speaking of Elizabeth, she wipes hastily at the
moisture on her cheeks and stumbles to her feet when she hears a car door open
and slam shut outside.
The sound is quickly followed by rushed footsteps, and she stands nervously in
place, stock-still, as her mother comes into view in the entranceway. Her heart
starts beating fast as the woman just stares seemingly impassively at what was
once their front door, taking an aborted step back when her mother finally
tears her eyes away and enters the living room.
"What is this?!" Elizabeth demands, outraged at the destruction.
"Umm..." Charlie stalls, her fear growing more when her mother narrows her eyes
and moves closer, a hand held out almost threateningly. Her mind is blank, her
mouth opening and closing repeatedly without any discernible words coming out,
just sounds.
"Charlotte Lynn Alexander, I asked you a question, and you know very well that
I don't like to repeat myself!" Elizabeth lectures, her hand curling around
Charlie's shoulder and gripping it tightly like the talons of a bird, sharp
nails digging into fragile skin. She drops the paper bag she holds carelessly
to the floor when her daughter still doesn't respond, not caring when she hears
one of the small jars within shatter on impact. What's one more small mess when
everything else in the room is in ruins, too? she thinks wryly. "Are you going
to answer me, or are you just going to stand there gaping like an idiotic
fish?"
The harshness of her mother's tone is what finally gets Charlie's brain working
again. "It was Stiles..." she whispers, voice quavering as she winces in pain.
Elizabeth's touch is rough, rougher than it's ever been, and she swallows
tightly when the pressure on her shoulder increases at the mention of the boy.
Thankfully she's released a second later, before any lasting damage can be
done.
She rubs at the spot when her mother steps back and runs a hand down her face.
With a flick of her wrist, Elizabeth rights everything in the room, the
shattered fragments of their fruit bowl and mugs mending themselves as they
find their homes on the coffee table once more. Bending down, she transfers the
paper bag from the floor to the coffee table, too, checking that all the
ingredients she just purchased are still intact inside as she does so. Luckily,
it was only that one bottle that broke, and another wave of her hand fixes that
as well, the glass coming back together and trapping the invaluable powder
inside, where it will stay until it's needed later that night. She sits down on
the sofa and levels her eyes on Charlie again. "I take it by the mess I just
came home to that he knows about us now, correct?" she asks, adjusting her long
black dress over her legs so that there are no wrinkles in the expensive
fabric. She sighs deeply and purses her lips when Charlie nods jerkily.
"Alright...what did you do to screw this up?" The thought that their being
discovered might not be her daughter's fault doesn't even enter her mind.
"I-I lost my phone a few days ago, and I guess Stiles found it," Charlie
whispers. She can't make herself speak any louder. "After you left earlier and
sent that text, he saw it, put the pieces together, and came here." She
flinches when her mother shifts, uncrossing her legs.
"And I take it that as soon as he came over here demanding answers, you gave
them to him straight away, without even trying to come up with a plausible
excuse?" Elizabeth presses, her frustrations increasing when Charlie nods again
and looks off to the side, through the living room window. When she speaks
next, her voice is drowning in sarcasm. "Well, that's just brilliant! Well
done!"
Standing once more, she snaps up the bag of ingredients and heads into the
kitchen, gabbing Charlie by the arm as she goes and dragging the girl along
with her. "We're going to have to move quickly if we want to succeed with the
plan now... I want you to start preparing these while I get my spell book," she
upends the bag on the countertop, "and we'll do it immediately. We have no time
to waste!" With that, she pats Charlie on the shoulder and gives her a forced
smile before dashing upstairs to her bedroom.
Charlie stares down at her feet.
She listens to the sounds of her mother moving as they come through the
ceiling, trying to gather her nerve so she can tell the woman she's changed her
mind. It's not an easy feat, but by the time she hears footsteps on the stairs
again a few minutes later, she's done it. When Elizabeth reenters the room
carrying a large, heavy book, she meets the woman's narrowed eyes with her head
held high, projecting confidence. "I don't want to do this anymore," she
starts, marvelling at how her voice actually comes out sounding strong. "I
don't think that Stiles and the others are who you said they were. You've been
lying to me. They're good, and what we've been doing to them isn't right, so
I'm leaving! If you don't stop coming after them...I love you and I'm sorry,
but I will help them stop you." Her courage slips gradually, because with every
word that passes her lips, Elizabeth's expression becomes angrier and angrier,
to the point where she's honestly frightened of the darkness she sees there.
Running seems like a good idea, so she begins backing away toward the back
door.
Before she actually gets there, though, Elizabeth is on her. She cries out in
pain as a burning sensation beings spreading up her arm, originating from her
mother's grip, and before she can try to pry the woman's hand off, she's thrown
across the room. Her head hits the wall and she sees stars.
"You stupid little girl!" Elizabeth hisses, advancing on her daughter's prone
form.
Groaning in pain, Charlie rolls herself over onto her front and tries to crawl
away, but her mother is faster. A hand comes around the back of her neck and,
before she knows it, she's flipped over onto her back and a hand is around her
throat, choking in its tight grip. "Mom, stop!" she gasps out, clawing at her
mother's arms. The deranged look in Elizabeth's eyes makes her try harder to
get free. "I can't breathe. Please, mom!" She kicks out wildly and manages to
land a blow right in her mother's stomach.
The pressure around her neck vanishes just as her vision starts going fuzzy
around the edges, and her body shakes as she coughs harshly, touching a hand to
her abused throat as she scurries out from underneath her mother's body. The
skin is sore and must be red, and she blinks salt water from her eyes when her
back finds the wall and impedes her escape.
She probably wouldn't have the energy to do so anymore anyway.
"How fucking dare you try to abandon me now! After all the trouble I went
through to keep you when your father tried to steal you away from me, this is
how you repay me?" Elizabeth growls, stumbling carelessly to her feet and
spreading her arms wide at her sides. She sees Charlie staring up at her, half
scared and half confused, and gets a sick smile on her face as she begins
spilling secrets long held from her daughter, deriving pleasure from the pain
her next words inflict. "You were right; I have been lying to you, but about
more than I think you suspect. You want to know what really happened to your
halfwit of a father? Yes? When I started expanding my horizons, exploring all
the different types of power I had denied myself for years because I was
following his 'enlightened' example, he didn't approve. He tried to stop me,
but I liked the rush it gave me too much... The fool got scared and tried to
take you away, away from me, and I couldn't have that. He tried to fight me,
but he was no match." She laughs evilly, her eyes full of cold delight as she
remembers the night about which she speaks.
"You should have seen it. It was beautiful, the way the life drained from his
eyes as I stopped his heart beating with nothing but a thought. Just
beautiful..." She goes silent for several long seconds before the sound of
quiet sobs rouses her from her remembrance.
Charlie can't believe what she's hearing. More tears leak from her eyes,
running down her cheeks to drop onto and soak through the navy fabric of her
shirt. As if her mother's admission has unlocked a vault in her mind, what
little she recalls of the months leading up to her dad's disappearance suddenly
seems more somehow. She relives them second by second as she searches for clues
of the truth.
What she finds only makes her cry harder, her mother's words drowned out.
The man never seemed unhappy, at least not when she was around. When she
wasn't, though, it became a different story. Occasionally, and while they were
unaware of her presence, she would overhear her parents arguing. Their shouted
words were always muffled by the walls so she couldn't understand a single one,
but she knew it was mainly her mom that yelled, her voice high-pitched and
sharp. The fights got less frequent, but as they did, the atmosphere of the
house grew more tense.
When she got home from school on the night it all came to a head, her dad came
to her room and told her to pack a bag, that they would be leaving within the
hour.
They were to stay with her grandmother a couple of towns over, for a week or
so, he said. She could sense that something important was happening, could see
the apprehension in her dad's eyes, and that made her obey without question. As
soon as she finished packing, the last shirt folded and laid flat in her bag
and the bag zipped shut, she heard a great crash echo up from somewhere
downstairs. It made her freeze in terror, not blinking or breathing, and
seconds passed by as if time had stopped completely before the silence was
broken by an anguished scream. This spurred her into action, and she tore her
bedroom door open and flew down the stairs to find the source of the commotion.
What she found made her recoil in horror. Her father was lying in the middle of
the kitchen floor, his head tipped back, his mouth open and his eyes lifeless.
Elizabeth was straddling his waist and breathing heavily, and before the woman
noticed her new audience, Charlie heard her speak quietly to her husband's
unmoving body. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in her voice.
Elizabeth moved her husband's head until their eyes met. "There we go,
sweetheart. That wasn't so bad, was it?" she soothed, stroking a hand almost
lovingly down his cheek. When she reached his chin, though, her touch turned
rough, nails digging into stubbled skin. "Bastard. That's what you get for
trying to tell me what I can and cannot do."
The last thing that flashes across Charlie's mind is her mother's eyes snapping
up to hers.
"Starting to remember, are you?" Elizabeth scoffs in the present, watching the
girl's face with a sneer. "Good. Then you know what happens to people when they
try to cross me. Don't worry; since you're my daughter, I won't kill you
outright, but I won't let you leave me either." She crouches down in front of
Charlie and strokes down the side of her face just like she did with her
husband's. Her smile stays in place even when Charlie turns her head to the
side to escape the touch. "Hmm... I guess there's no more point in waiting,
then, is there? This'll be over quick, my dear."
Before Charlie can process the words, her mother's finger is on her forehead
and her world goes black.
                                     * * *
The sun has long fallen when Derek creeps up to the side of Elizabeth's house.
The back of the place faces a row of trees, so it's easy to get close without
the risk of anyone seeing him. There is no noise that he can hear coming from
inside, but even so, he doesn't think for a second about letting his guard
down. His earlier promise to Stiles that he would return home safe makes him
move more slowly than he normally would, his steps cautious as he flattens
himself to the back wall of the place and edges closer to what he assumes is
the kitchen window. A light is on inside, shining through the glass and
illuminating the back garden with a faint glow that spreads outward a few feet
before evaporating, leaving the rest still in darkness. The only things
stopping the immediate area from being completely silent are the far-off sounds
of other families in neighbouring houses, sitting down for a late dinner or
gathering together to watch television before bed. Derek would find it all
quite comforting if he wasn't there to do something so dangerous and
potentially life-threatening.
Blocking out all of the impertinent noise, he tries to listen for the smallest
sounds coming from within Elizabeth's house. For a while there's nothing, and
he's getting close to giving up and going back home when he finally hears
something: two sets of footsteps coming down stairs.
When they get closer, Derek daringly turns his head to the side and peers
through the kitchen window, hoping all the while that no one will see him.
Luckily, when he spots Elizabeth and Charlie standing side by side on the other
side of the pane, they have their backs to him, so he's safe for the time
being. They both wear strangely embroidered robes, and their words are muffled,
but with some concentration he's just about able to make them out.
What he hears is confusing, but he guesses it all has to do with whatever plan
they have for Elizabeth to become strong enough to recast her curses on the
pack and take them all out.
"Alright...this is the last thing we need," Elizabeth says.
She holds a small jar of some mysterious herb up and hands it off to Charlie.
Derek doesn't recognise it, but with what he knows about the woman now, he
doesn't think it's that surprising. He has almost no experience with the dark
arts, so it's obvious that he wouldn't be privy to everything that goes into
it. He watches as Charlie stuffs the jar inside of a bag, the strap of which
she then pulls over her head so that it rests at her hip. It looks bulky, so
there's clearly a lot inside.
Something seems off about the girl, but he can't quite put his finger on it.
"Now, what we're about to do is going to be tough. This thing is ancient and is
going to put up a fight, so it might take a while for us to find success,"
Elizabeth explains, smoothing down her jade robes. They look like they're made
of a soft velvet.
Before Derek can really try to make sense of her words, there comes a loud
knock on the front door. Elizabeth sends Charlie to answer it, and a few
seconds later when the girl returns, she brings a third person with her. They
wear a long cloak, the hood still over their head even though they're indoors
now, and Derek has to fight to stop himself from scoffing. It takes until all
three of the women turn and head toward the back door for him to remember that
he's seen the cloak before. It's the same one that was worn by the person that
attacked himself and Stiles in the preserve, and in all honesty, he's a little
surprised to find that Elizabeth wasn't the culprit of that particular attack.
Even so, the realisation doesn't change his mind about getting revenge on the
witch because everything that's happened still traces back to her. When the
back door opens a short distance away, he holds his breath and doesn't move a
muscle, praying that the trio will walk right on by without seeing or hearing
him. Luck is apparently on his side in that moment, because all three of them
remain unaware.
Derek doesn't take his eyes off of their backs as they walk toward the tree
line and disappear between the trunks. Something ancient with a lot of power.
The words circle around and around in his head until they suddenly make sense
and he knows just what Elizabeth is after:
The Nemeton.
His eyes widen, and he quickly fumbles his phone from his jeans pocket and
dials Stiles' number, muttering, "C'mon, pick up," under his breath as he waits
for the call to be answered. As soon as he hears his mate's voice, he tries to
explain what's happening in a rush, but halfway through he hears a beep that
causes him to curse loudly, too loudly. "Voicemail... Fuck!" he yells in
frustration. There isn't time for him to try anyone else, so he starts
following Elizabeth alone, his heart pounding in his ears because he knows just
what a stupid decision it could turn out to be.
                                     * * *
After they'd finished dinner, the rest of the pack were quick to leave,
returning to the safety of their own homes and leaving Stiles and Derek alone.
Stiles felt a little antsy then, and the feeling only intensified once Derek
had left as well to go and spy on their now-unmasked enemy. He tried
distracting himself with his favourite movie, but it was useless. His leg kept
jiggling restlessly, and he would find himself biting painfully into his bottom
lip every few minutes until he tasted blood. Now, he putters around the house
aimlessly, just waiting for his mate to return. He's mad at himself for letting
Derek go sleuthing on his own, and because he knows that he'll just continue
beating himself up if given the chance, he sorts through absolutely everything
in the house at least twice to busy himself. It's a better distraction than the
movie, thankfully, one that also tires him out. He's just finished organising
all of the books on the bookcase in his and Derek's bedroom for the third time,
having gone back and forth repeatedly between alphabetical and by genre, when
his eyes start to droop and his limbs feel heavy.
As much as he wants to stay up until Derek returns, his body won't let him.
Sluggishly and unwillingly, he picks himself up from the floor and stumbles
over to the dresser to pick out some sleep clothes. His mind isn't clear enough
to make any proper decision, so he just opts for what feels soft and carries it
with him to the bathroom.
The bright overhead light impairs his vision when he flicks on the switch, and
in his blindness he walks into the sink on his way to the toilet, the hard
porcelain digging into his side. It makes him hiss through his teeth and drop
what he now realises is a pair of Derek's pyjama bottoms, black and baggy, the
material thick and warm in his hand when he bends to pick it back up from the
cool tile of the floor. His eyes itch with tiredness as he stares at himself in
the mirror, the bristles of a new toothbrush rubbing a little too roughly back
and forth across his teeth and gums.
His last step before sliding into bed is to pull off his day clothes, and
Derek's sleep pants are pulled easily up his gangly legs before he falls onto
the mattress with a groan, his arms and legs starfishing out across the empty
space. A hand reaches out, grasping for someone that's not yet there beside
him, and the reminder is like a cord wrapping tight around his heart,
constricting.
The last thing he thinks before succumbing to sleep is Derek's name.
                                     * * *
Stiles knows he's not getting any true rest anytime soon when his eyes snap
open a second later to reveal annoying familiar surroundings. He jackknifes
upright from where he still lies in the centre of the bed and almost gives into
his urge to cry when he sees just what is awaiting him.
The bedroom's walls are unnaturally shadowed and feel oppressive,
claustrophobic, like they're closing in on him. This strange vision world is
still a shock to his system even though he's visited it several times in recent
memory, and he wonders if he'll ever get used it. The clock on the nightstand
doesn't give the time. The numbers flashing back at him change every time they
reappear, and sometimes they're not even numbers, but weird symbols instead
that mean nothing, at least not to him. He gets the feeling that there's a lot
to this place that is still unknown to him, things that will take him years of
studious effort to even get close to understanding. There's probably meaning in
everything, if only he could see it. Sighing, he clambers off of the bed, his
body wracked with shudders brought on by both cold and fright, and hesitantly
walks out into the hallway and down the stairs. Like what's happened before, as
he walks, the house vanishes behind him and more appears under his feet,
guiding him in the right direction, and when he tries to turn right, into the
living room, he finds he can't.
The room doesn't exist in this reality, apparently.
The kitchen and the dining room also yield similar results, leaving the front
door as his only option. The sky is an endless void of black when Stiles walks
down the steps and onto the grass, not a star in sight, and though he wasn't
really expecting to see any, it's still unnerving. The temperature seems to
drop more and more with every step, and he wraps his arms around his torso in
an effort to keep his body heat. Going back for a shirt or sweater isn't an
option; the path he's on only goes forward.
Long stretches of empty roads are all he knows for the longest time, row upon
row of lightless houses devoid of any people, without even a simple gust of
wind blowing through and disturbing the various plants and flowers in the
gardens. He sings a song under his breath to erase the quiet.
Eventually, the path leads him to Charlie's street.
He naively tries to keep going, past the girl's house, in the hopes that what
he's meant to see isn't held within. Of course, that's just wishful thinking,
and after bolstering himself up a little, he approaches the building, praying
that whatever he finds inside won't be too horrifying. He doesn't think he can
take any more surprises just yet. The front door is fixed, like he never
destroyed it.
When he pushes it inward and steps over the threshold, holding his breath all
the while, he feels relief when he doesn't immediately find anybody waiting for
him on the other side. It usually takes a while for anybody to appear to him if
they're going to, though, so he doesn't drop his guard. He makes a sweep of the
first floor, followed by the second, and becomes confused when he doesn't find
anything of note. There doesn't seem to be anything there for him to see.
At least that's what he thought. When he makes to leave the house again, he
picks up on faint talking coming from the direction of the kitchen. He knows
the voice belongs to Elizabeth but can't make out what she's saying, so he
steps closer to try and hear her better. Standing in the doorway, he finds the
woman knelt down on the floor beside Charlie, who lies on her back, seemingly
unconscious. There are candles spread around the redhead's body, all of them
lit, and Elizabeth draws strange patterns on the skin of her forehead as she
continues to mumble. Since she doesn't seem able to see him, Stiles steps
closer and attempts to catch her words, kneeling down himself on Charlie's
other side. Reaching out a hand, his fingers pass right through the girl when
he goes to touch her, leading him to conclude that what he's seeing must not be
happening in the present or future. Each time he's seen those times before, he
could interact with the other people in the vision, unlike in the past where he
couldn't, like when he witnessed his mother's private conversation with Talia
Hale.
There's nothing for him to do but settle in and wait.
It takes several long minutes until something else happens. Elizabeth's voice
gets louder as she speaks in a language he doesn't know, and the candle flames
get larger. The change is so spontaneous that he flails backward to avoid being
burned even though he can't be.
"There...that should teach you not to disobey me again, sweetheart," Elizabeth
whispers as she brushes the hair back from Charlie's forehead. The action is
strangely maternal coming from someone who's capable of such evil. "It's time
to wake up now." With a snap of her fingers, Charlie's eyes open and she sits
up with her mother's help, blinking around the room dazedly. Her eyes skip over
Stiles.
"Stand up," Elizabeth orders as she gets to her own feet, snapping her fingers
again.
Charlie immediately obeys her mother, her eyes widening in shock and fear. She
stares down at her body as if it has betrayed her. "What the hell is going
on?!" she exclaims, her voice shrill. "What the fuck did you do to me?!" The
last word is shouted and ends on a pained scream as Elizabeth slaps her across
the face. Charlie breathes heavily, her chest heaving with every inhale as she
cups her cheek, tears springing to her eyes at the sting left behind by her
mother's hand.
"Do not speak to me like that, young lady!" Elizabeth reprimands, her eyes
narrowed and her nostrils flared in anger. She glares at her daughter for a
second before regaining control of her emotions, her face relaxing and her
hands unclenching at her sides. "Now...I've put you under a spell, and how you
behave from now on will determine whether I remove it or make it stronger. I'm
letting you choose: obey me willingly and do everything that I say, regain my
trust, and I'll remove it. Fight me again, and I'll take over your mind as well
as your body so you have no choice but to follow my orders and I won't have to
hear you whining constantly. Now, let's put you to the test, yes? If this
ritual is going to succeed, we need to be free of all the other energies that
gather in our clothes from other people, the negativity, the oppression... Ours
need to be the only influences in the area. Go upstairs and change into the
ceremonial robe I've laid out on your bed. I have one myself, and they're both
purified so that the ritual should go off without a hitch."
Charlie looks at her mother with such contempt that it actually scares Stiles a
little bit. He still harbours ill feelings toward the girl but the fact that
Elizabeth thought this spell was necessary makes him think that the redhead
decided to side with him and the pack.
So, when she stays standing exactly where she is, he finds himself wishing that
she'd just do as Elizabeth says on her own, because he knows how awful it is to
have someone else controlling your body. He's unable to tell her to do so, of
course, so he has to watch as Elizabeth snaps her fingers a third time and
forces her. Both women exit the kitchen, and he hears footsteps on the stairs.
Standing himself, he almost stumbles when his surroundings disappear for a
split second.
When he rights himself, Stiles finds that he's now stood at the edge of the
preserve. Nothing else is in the area, so he sighs before beginning to walk
through the trees, his feet protesting the rough ground. He adds shoes to the
list of things he regrets not putting on before leaving his home earlier, but
grits his teeth through the discomfort and pain and trudges farther on, his
next destination becoming less and less mysterious by the second. He thinks he
can make a decent guess about where this next part of the vision is leading
him.
                                     * * *
Every step that Derek takes is made with unparallelled wariness.
He doesn't want to accidentally step on a twig hidden on the dark preserve
floor, snapping it and alerting Elizabeth or her companions to the fact that
they're being tailed. His preternatural eyesight is invaluable, and he keeps
listening intently to the sounds of the trio's light footsteps as they drift
back to him on the night breeze from several feet away.
Darting between the trees, he tries to stay hidden should any of them look back
without warning. Intermittently, hushed words will overthrow the sound of their
footsteps, and he recognises one of the voices as belonging to Elizabeth,
though that's not shocking. The second is a mystery, though, failing to tell
him more about it owners identity than their gender. The feminine voice feels
familiar, but no name or face appears in his mind. Charlie stays strangely
silent throughout the whole trek, and in the brief glances Derek gets of the
girl's back as he switches between hiding places, he sees her walking stiffly,
trailing behind her mother in jerky movements. Just like he feared, eventually,
the three women enter a clearing he knows well and come to a stop next to a
large tree stump. The air suddenly seems toxic, like the Nemeton knows what's
about to happen. Given what he knows about it, Derek guesses that might
actually be the case. Taking up his post behind a tree on the outskirts of the
clearing, he peers around the trunk and watches as Charlie places pillar
candles in a ring around the Nemeton.
The process is similar to what Deaton did during Stiles' first training session
after New York.
Now that he's actually there, Derek feels stupid for following Elizabeth on his
own. There's probably little he can do by himself to stop the woman from
sucking the power out of the old tree stump, and his promise to Stiles stops
him from trying anyway, lest he come out of the fight without his life.
Minutes later, Charlie has lit the last wick and steps back, handing off the
bag she still carries to the cloaked stranger. They upend it in the middle of
the Nemeton, but Derek can't see what they do next because his line of sight is
blocked by their body. It seems like a surprisingly short process, though,
because before he knows what's happening, they announce that they're finished
and that they can move on to the next stage in the ritual. Elizabeth climbs
atop the stump and sits crosslegged in the centre before drinking whatever
strange concoction her companion has just made.
An unusual wind starts blowing around the clearing, in a circle, when Charlie
and the stranger take up their positions on opposite sides of the Nemeton, both
of them with their arms raised in a horizontal line, palms-out as if they're
telling someone to stop something. Just as they begin chanting, Derek sees
movement on the other side of the clearing. When he sees its cause, his heart
stops.
Stiles appears between the trees, but something about him seems off.
There's a strange pale glow and translucency to the boy's body that stands out
clearly against the darkness of the preserve, but luckily, because Elizabeth,
Charlie and the stranger all have their eyes closed, they don't see that they
have another intruder. Derek uses the cover the wind gives him to sneak around
the edge of the clearing toward Stiles, his pace quick just in case it fades
again before he can get there. "Stiles!" he hisses as he reaches out a hand,
planning on dragging the boy behind the cover of the unusually thick tree trunk
that stands a couple of feet away. No contact is made, though, and his hand
passes right through Stiles' skin like he's not really there, which he guesses
explains the strangeness of the teen's appearance. Stiles finally seems to snap
out of his reckless staring when his name is called, and Derek meets his wide,
fearful eyes with an equal amount of panic in his own. He gestures for the boy
to follow him as he steps back and positions himself so that he remains facing
the clearing and Stiles is facing him. He doesn't want to let Elizabeth out of
his sight.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Derek demands, the idea that Stiles is
putting his life in danger causing his words to come out more harshly than he
intended.
"I don't know!" Stiles hisses back, just as frustrated. "I was at home, waiting
for you to get back, when I got sleepy. I went to sleep, and the next thing I
know, I'm here! I thought I was just having another vision, but since you can
see me, I guess not..." He's surprised by it, and he wonders just how many
different ways his powers will catch him off-guard before he's exhausted them
all.
It's tiring, honestly.
Before Derek can respond, the wind picks up exponentially and dark clouds
appear in the night sky to block out what little light the moon and stars were
shining down on them, leaving the candles the only true source of illumination
in the area. The unnatural darkness is incredibly unsettling and makes Stiles
stand out even more, which Derek knows could fast become problematic. The last
thing either of them need is to be spotted, especially because they have no
real way of defending themselves.
A loud clap of thunder sounds suddenly as a streak of lightning pierces the
sky, the ground starting to quake at the same time, almost knocking Derek off-
balance.
"What do we do?!" Stiles cries, strangely unaffected by the shaking beneath his
feet. He peers around the tree at Elizabeth and watches in horror as her head
tilts back, face to the sky, and another shot of lightning comes and hits the
her square between the eyes. She eerily doesn't react to it at all. "There has
to be some way we can stop her..." He wonders if his powers will work in his
current state and tries to bring them out, a distressed sound escaping his lips
when he finds that he can't access them. As scary as their speedy growth has
been, being without them now makes him feel lost, like he's missing a limb.
Before he can think of another plan of attack, Derek whispers something to him
that he doesn't catch before darting past and out into the clearing, a hand
held up in front of his eyes to shield them from the unforgiving wind that
still whips around the place. Stiles wants to call after the man, to demand
that he come back, but he resists, knowing that his yelling could possibly be
enough to alert Elizabeth and the others of Derek's slow advance. Thankfully,
all three of them stay unaware.
Going after Elizabeth directly would be too dangerous, especially because
lightning continues to rain down on her every few seconds, so Derek veers off
to the side and sneaks up behind the stranger. He brings out his claws and
prepares to shove his hand through their chest.
Right as he goes to strike, however, everything suddenly stops, including his
movement.
The clouds clear and all the candles extinguish themselves at the same time.
Derek finds himself stuck in place, his arm still outstretched, his claws
poised to be buried deep in flesh. His heart beats faster in his chest to the
point of becoming deafening, but the sound of it is eclipsed by cruel laughter.
Looking up, he sees Elizabeth grinning at him from where she still sits on the
Nemeton. He growls.
"You're too late, Derek," the woman sneers, standing and stumbling a little
bit. She hops down onto the ground with Charlie's help. "I've already got all
the power I need. It's a real head rush, let me tell you!" She turns her head
to the side. "You may as well come out, too, Stiles. I know you're there."
When the boy does as she says, walking stiffly over to stand next to Derek,
scornful eyes staring daggers, she laughs again. "My, you really are a strong
one, aren't you? I've never heard of someone being able to astral project like
that without years of proper training beforehand. I'm impressed. Too bad that
strength won't save your pack now." By this point, the dizziness Elizabeth felt
just after taking the Nemeton's power has all but disappeared, so she feels
confident using it now. Without saying another word, she flicks her gaze to
Derek and holds her hand up sideways, her fingers curling like she's holding a
glass. As she raises her arm higher, Derek's feet leave the ground and, with a
grin, she flicks her hand to her left. The action sends the alpha flying across
the clearing in a large arc to collide with a tree, the sound of bones breaking
cutting through the still air and echoing through the preserve. She delights in
the scream Stiles lets out as he races over to check on his mate, cackling
evilly when the boy glances back over his shoulder and looks at her with
frightened eyes. "That was fun!"
Stiles crashes to his knees next to Derek's supine form.
Whining in distress when he's unable to reach out and actually touch the man,
he settles for assessing the damage with his eyes instead. Derek is still
breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly, but a cut bleeds slowly on his
forehead and one of his legs is bent at an odd angle. He heard more than one
bone break when he hit the tree, so he knows there's more going unseen, but in
his current state, he can't even call someone else for assistance. They're both
helpless.
"Well, as nice as this has been, I really should be leaving now. I've got some
new powers to test out," Elizabeth speaks up a minute later, her smile still in
place. She grips her companions' shoulders tight with both hands. "Don't worry,
though. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon enough." With a wink,
she turns and walks away.
***** Impetus *****
- Tuesday, September 25th, 2012 -
Now that the threat of more attacks is gone, Stiles breathes slightly easier.
As much as he doesn't want to, he knows the only way to get Derek some help is
to try and wake up, to return to his body back at the house. He says a quiet
prayer that his mate will be safe for the time being as he closes his eyes and
concentrates, feeling the world fade away, the sounds of the preserve getting
quieter and quieter until they're gone altogether. When he opens his eyes
again, he finds himself lying flat on his stomach on his and Derek's bed, in
their bedroom once more. Not wanting to waste any more time, he leaps to his
feet and fumbles for his phone, dialling Isaac immediately after he gets it in
hand.
The beta sounds groggy when he answers, understandably so because it's after
midnight now, but he perks up quickly when Stiles informs him of what has just
happened. He tells Isaac to alert and gather everyone else before hanging up
and getting dressed, and a minute later he's racing outside again.
When he reaches the Nemeton, he finds Isaac and Scott are already there,
crouched down on either side of his mate's still-unconscious form.
The cut on Derek's head has healed over now, and the way Isaac is cradling the
man's broken arm tells him that the bone must have knitted itself back together
in the time it took him to arrive. "Do you think you can carry him between
you?" he asks, knowing he couldn't manage Derek's weight by himself with his
weaker human muscles. He helps support Derek's back while the betas both swing
one of his arms around their heads and lift, bringing the alpha to his useless
feet. He leads the way back, using a flashlight be brought from the house to
light his path so he doesn't accidentally trip on a root or something and knock
himself out, too. The mood is sombre, and he can tell that Isaac and Scott have
questions they want answered, but luckily for him they keep them to themselves
for the time being. The house comes into view after ten long minutes of
walking, and he finds Erica waiting for them at the open front door. He walks
right past the blonde without a second glance and instructs Isaac and Scott to
lay Derek down on the sofa while he makes a quick trip to the kitchen.
Returning with a wet rag, he gently picks Derek's head up and sits down in its
place, cradling it in his lap as he starts cleaning off the blood that's dried
to the man's skin and in his hair. He feels many sets of eyes on him but
doesn't look up even once, not knowing what he would say. When the last of the
blood is gone, he tosses the ruined rag onto the coffee table and sets in to
wait until Derek reawakens.
"Stiles?" Erica pipes up eventually, tired of the quiet. "What's going on?"
Sighing, Stiles responds with, "Let's just say that Elizabeth succeeded in
making herself stronger." He still doesn't take his eyes off of Derek's face.
His hand moves constantly, fingers stroking through dark hair and across the
smooth skin of the man's forehead.
No other words are said. Everyone can tell that Stiles isn't in the right
mindset to properly explain what happened, not yet, and they all harbour their
own worries for their alpha. Time ticks by slowly, and after another five
minutes of awkward silence, Lydia announces that she's going to make everyone
some tea and drags Jackson along to help her as she steps into the kitchen.
Stiles doesn't respond anymore to anyone, not even when Lydia forces a steaming
mug in his hand, so she gives up trying and retakes her own seat with a put-out
sigh.
Stiles is too busy cogitating over what little he knows about his abstruse
powers. He searches fervently for a way to combat their newly strengthened
enemy, but has no clue where to start.
Every single idea he manages to come up with seems likely to fail.
The Nemeton was such an overwhelmingly powerful and mysterious thing that he
doesn't know how they'll be able to put a stop to Elizabeth's aggrandised reign
of terror now. As he sees it, they have two options: either they forego any
preparations themselves and go after her right away before she has a chance to
come to grips with the change, or they wait and prepare, unfortunately letting
Elizabeth become more adept at using her new power. It seems like a lose-lose
situation no matter how he cuts it, and the realisation is extremely
disheartening. Still, he's never been one to give up even when the odds are
stacked against him. His mother's death, Peter, Gerard, the Alpha Pack, the
Nogitsune, Landon...if he had called it quits during any of those tough times,
he never would have survived to see eighteen, and it's that thought that
cements his determination to keep going now, no matter what. He'll go down
fighting, even if they lose and it ends bloody. It's when he makes that
decision that Derek groans in his lap and turns toward him slightly, waking up.
Hazel eyes blink up at him, and he smiles in relief as he helps Derek to sit
up. He doesn't take his hands off of the man even when he's upright again. "How
are you feeling?" he enquires as Derek twists his torso from side to side and
winces. He suspects that broken ribs might be the problem.
"Angry," comes his wolf's succinct reply, in the form of a low growl.
"Alright, now that Derek's back in the land of the living, can I please know
the reason you woke me up at this ungodly hour?" Jackson asks petulantly,
dodging out of the way of Erica's fist when she goes to punch him for his
callousness. It becomes a pointless move when Danny hits him up the back of his
head anyway. "I mean, aside from the obvious." He waves a dismissive hand in
his alpha's direction.
Stiles scowls at the stubbornly nescient beta. "I've already told you why, and
I'm in no mood to deal with your bullshit right now, Jackson, so shut the fuck
up before I come over there and make you," he warns in a sibilant whisper,
getting immense joy out of the way the other boy's eyes widen in fear as he
backs away a couple of paces. He lightens up a little bit when Isaac and Scott
snigger at Jackson's reprimanding and refocuses his attention on the others.
"Elizabeth has what she wanted now, the power of the Nemeton, which means
she'll probably try to curse us all again soon."
When everybody's faces become twisted in fear, he smiles wryly and nods. He's
quick to wrangle his expression into something more positive, though, knowing
that, if they have any hope at all of coming out the other end of the impending
fight alive, he must remain indefatigable and sanguine.
"How are we going to stop her now?" Isaac asks timorously.
"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. We always do," Derek replies with
immense conviction. He doesn't let the doubts he has about his words show on
his face, wanting to mitigate the pack's concerns so that they don't become
overwhelmed. The thought of losing is anathema to him, and he vows silently to
himself that he'll do whatever it takes in order to bring down Elizabeth,
Beacon Hills' new despot. He leans back into the sofa cushions, the pain of his
ribs finally easing off enough for him to get comfortable and wait for them to
heal completely. It shouldn't take too long, and he sends Stiles a small smile
when the boy presses a hand to his side tentatively, still looking for
reassurance that he's really alright. He sympathises and knows without a doubt
that he'd be the same way if their positions were reversed. "There's no use
worrying about something we can't control, so what I said earlier still stands:
to stay out of her way if you can avoid her. For now, I want you to all head
home and try to get some rest. We'll probably need all the sleep we can get."
Most of the pack are reluctant to leave, but they know their alpha is right.
One by one, they head back to their own homes, with Stiles bidding them all
farewell from the front door until it's just him and Derek left in the house.
At least that's what they think until the door is pushed open again before
Stiles can shut and lock it. Isaac comes back inside, picking at his nails
nervously.
"What's wrong?" Stiles asks, taking his hand off of the door handle and
reaching out to touch the beta's arm gently. He tilts his head to the side
inquisitively as he waits for an answer.
"Do you think it would be OK if...if I stayed here tonight?" Isaac mumbles, his
cheeks colouring with embarrassment. He's unable to look Stiles in the eye as
he voices his request and continues to look down at his feet even after it's
been given, shuffling from one to the other repeatedly.
Derek leaves the sofa at this and joins the two in the foyer.
"Of course, puppy," Stiles is quick to say after a moment of silence, realising
just what the waiting is doing to his favourite beta. "It's fine if you feel
you need to be close to us, especially right now, so don't be scared about
asking in the future, OK? I'm happy to have you here, and I'm sure Derek feels
the same. Right, Der?" He goes to dig his elbow into the alpha's side but
refrains at the last second, remembering that the man's ribs have only recently
healed and are sure to be tender. Instead, he bumps their shoulders together
and looks at him pointedly.
"Umm, yeah," Derek agrees, not knowing what else he could add. He shrugs off
Stiles' exasperated eye roll, figuring that he can fall back on the excuse of
being recently knocked out to explain his idiocy.
Waving his mate off, Stiles wraps an arm around Isaac's shoulders and guides
him up the stairs and into his and Danny's bedroom. "Did you want Danny to stay
with you? I can call him; I'm sure he wouldn't mind at all," he enquires
gently, running a calming hand through Isaac's hair when the beta takes a seat
on the edge of the bed. He nods understandingly when Isaac says 'yes' and pulls
out his phone, quickly navigating to Danny's number and hitting the call
button. While he waits for an answer, he notices that there aren't any sheets
on the bed yet because he washed them recently, so he makes a mental note to go
and retrieve some as soon as he's finished speaking to the Hawaiian boy. It
doesn't take long, with Danny readily agreeing to come straight back like he
thought, and as he's helping Isaac make the bed he hears the sound of
approaching footsteps just before the pushed-to door is opened again. Danny
steps into the room a second later, and Stiles feels comfortable leaving for
his own bedroom now that Isaac has his boyfriend there to keep him company.
Derek is waiting right outside in the hall, making him jump.
"They all set?" the alpha asks, following Stiles into their room and shutting
the door behind them. He took care of everything downstairs while his mate was
tending to the two betas' needs, switching off all the lights and locking all
of the doors. That won't stop Elizabeth, but it makes him feel a little more
secure anyway.
"Yup," Stiles replies, popping the 'P'. He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it
to the floor, not caring where it lands, and begins unbuttoning the chinos he
changed into after waking up from his earlier vision—or his astral projection,
as Elizabeth called it. Although her whole pretence for being in town was
proven a lie, he doesn't think her explanation for the state in which he found
himself was a mendacious act. It's the best delineation he can hope for in
present times, so he'll take what he can get.
He adds it to the endlessly growing list of things to research further at a
later date.
As Stiles takes his turn in the bathroom, Derek stands by the bedroom door and
listens as Danny and Isaac settle in down the hall. The quiet murmurs of their
conversation echo through the wall, indecipherable, but that doesn't matter.
It's not often they have company overnight, and he must admit that having it
then puts his anxieties in a state of repose.
Finally pulling off his own clothes, he holds them up in front of himself for
inspection and sighs when he sees that the Henley is basically ruined. It must
have caught on a branch and torn when Elizabeth threw him into the tree, so he
balls it up and tosses it in the bin with a quiet growl, annoyed because of all
the shirts he owns, that one was his favourite. Cerulean blue, v-necked and
made of the softest material, he laments the loss of another article of
clothing somewhat dramatically, flopping down across the foot of the bed and
throwing an arm over his eyes. He only realises that he's getting dirt on the
sheets when Stiles points it out to him, and he then stands wearily and heads
into the bathroom to take a shower and get all of the brown smears off of his
skin. Luckily, the bulk of it is concentrated on his face, neck and arms
because those were the only parts of his body uncovered at the time of the
attack, so it doesn't take him long to get himself squeaky clean again.
Towelling off, he doesn't bother putting on any underwear and just slides right
into bed with a pleasured groan.
Stiles is also feeling the results of a hard day.
The new discovery he made with his enervating powers has left his mind slow and
his body aching, so the comfort of the mattress and Derek's strong arms feels
like a godsend. He snuggles impossibly closer to the man, who smells like
cinnamon and home, and it's a combination that works wonders in calming him,
just enough for his eyes to slip closed as he falls into a restless sleep.
                                     * * *
Hours later, no one is surprised when Charlie isn't in school again.
"Elizabeth's probably keeping her home, under her thumb," Stiles theorises, his
voice cold where he sits wedged in between Isaac and Lydia around the lunch
table. He picks disinterestedly at his food, arranging the mashed potatoes into
a perfectly rounded mound in the centre of his tray before spearing peas with
his fork and dropping them on top. He makes a game out of guessing which way
the little green balls will roll off. His stomach feels full even though he
hasn't eaten anything since leaving his and Derek's house that morning.
"Good... I don't want to see that bitch," Jackson comments offhandedly, tapping
away at a game on his phone to pass the time. When he feels something small
bounce off of his forehead, he finally looks up and returns Stiles' glare.
"What? Don't tell me you actually feel bad for her after what she did to us."
Shaking his head, Stiles decides to ignore the question and return to his food.
It's always been clear to him that there is an extreme disparity in the way he
and Jackson feel and look at things, so he doesn't waste his time reminding the
beta of what he saw in his vision the previous night. Jackson wouldn't
understand. His mind wanders, and he can't help thinking of Derek, all alone at
home, left without anyone's help should Elizabeth make her next move. The one
plus about being stuck in school is that they're surrounded by civilians, the
perfect place to avoid being attacked, but the same cannot be said for his
mate. Because of this, he insisted over breakfast that Derek keep in contact
with him constantly, in hourly updates via text, to combat the worries he knew
he would have. The next update should come in any minute now, and he pulls out
his phone and lays it on the table beside his tray so that there's no chance of
him missing it. The device taunts him in its silence, with the blackness of the
screen, and all sounds of conversation and utensils scraping against plastic
fade away as he waits and waits and waits.
Though his attention is so focused on it, it still comes as a surprise when his
phone dings loudly and the screen lights up. He drops his fork with a clatter,
ruining the meticulous work he did constructing his mashed potato pile, and
snaps the device up, reading each word twice over. A sigh of relief escapes his
mouth when he reads that Derek is fine, that nothing out of the ordinary has
happened yet.
This constant vigilance is going to ruin him, Stiles knows, but he can't see
any other way with which he can deal with the looming threat of destruction.
He has more mettle than he gives himself credit for, though. Now that his
worries have been assuaged, though only temporarily, he locks his phone and
tunes back into the discussions happening around the table. Scott, Allison and
Kira are hunched together and laughing with each other in a disgustingly cute
display. Danny and Isaac are the same. Boyd is silent where he sits beside
Erica, an arm resting casually across the back of the blonde's chair as she
converses somewhat raucously with Cora.
Jackson and Lydia are arguing about something.
He doesn't want to eavesdrop, so he tunes them both out again and stares out of
the window. From his seat, he faces the parking lot and the tree line beyond,
giving him the perfect vantage point from which to see other students sneaking
off the property.
People-watching is one of his favourite pastimes, and he indulges himself in it
now. He can just about make out someone standing by the far corner of the
building, their greying hair blowing in the wind as they hold a cigarette
between their lips and attempt to light it. It takes him a second to realise
who it is, but Ms. Adler's hunched posture and dress sense are unmistakable.
It's not a surprise that she smokes, not when she has such a raspy voice, like
she has gravel trapped between her vocal chords. He chuckles to himself when
she drops her cigarette, but when she bends down to retrieve it, the smile is
quickly wiped from his face. Elizabeth is revealed to be standing just behind
his most hated teacher.
Ms. Adler stands at her full height again, dirtied cigarette now in hand,
unaware.
Before Stiles can react, can even think of anything to do to stop it, Elizabeth
moves forward and, keeping eye contact with him the entire time, snaps his
teacher's neck with a flick of her wrist. He gasps in shock and holds a hand
over his mouth, drawing the attention of the rest of the pack. As much of a
bitch as Ms. Adler was, he didn't want her dead, especially not like this.
"Stiles? What's wrong?" Isaac asks worriedly, following his pack mom's line of
sight. He sees nothing strange, so he's baffled when the human boy continues
staring out of the window.
Stiles sees Elizabeth's lips move and jumps when, a second later, her voice
runs through his mind and echoes around inside his head. "Why don't you join
me?" it says, scarily calm and pleasant. "I've got so much I want to talk to
you about, and I doubt you'd want any more of these people to meet the same
fate as this woman, right? I'll be waiting." He doesn't realise he's moving
until he's already dashing from the room, yells of his name following him as
the pack tries to get his attention and fails. As much as he wants to go
straight outside and tear Elizabeth limb from limb, he has enough sense still
to know that he would be the one coming out of that fight without his life. He
darts into the closest boys' bathroom and is glad to find it empty. When
everyone pours into the room right after him, filling it up, he doesn't react
and just stares at himself in one of the mirrors. Preempting any more questions
about his sudden exit, he tells them all what he saw and heard as his knuckles
become white from gripping the sink so tightly. He can hear the porcelain groan
in protest.
It's only when the sink cracks and he comes away with two chunks of it in his
hands that he turns to face the pack. They all look shocked as he drops the
pieces to the floor with two thuds and washes the dust from his hands in the
next sink over.
"I thought she wouldn't come after us here," Erica pipes up, scared.
"Me, too," Stiles responds as he dries his hands with a paper towel. "I guess
since she can't get us directly right now, she's going for a different
approach... She wanted-" He's cut off by a commotion out in the hall, and he
cuts through everybody to open the door and stick his head out to find out
what's happening. A couple of boys walk past, great smiles on their faces, and
he grabs hold of one of their shirts before they can get out of reach. "What's
going on?"
The boy's grin gets impossibly larger. "Oh, that bitch, Ms. Adler, was just
found dead outside. It looked like she'd been murdered, so they've cancelled
the rest of everyone's classes today so the cops can come and interview us
all." Sick excitement drips obviously from his voice, and when his friend
beckons him he shakes off Stiles' grip again and hurries to catch up.
At that moment, a teacher comes around the corner and spots Stiles.
"C'mon," she says, her eyes narrowing when she sees everybody else gathered
behind the boy. "All of you need to go to the gym and wait for your turn." She
accompanies the group after they all trail out, knowing their reputation and
suspecting they may try to sneak off if left alone.
Once they've walked past the couple of deputies that are stationed outside the
doors and are all packed tightly in the gym with the rest of the student body,
squished into a tiny circle next to a wall, Stiles keeps his eyes locked on the
door and listens for any more signs of Elizabeth. All he hears, though, are the
murmurs of quiet conversations going on all around him. The atmosphere in the
room is strange. Half of the students are shocked by this newest death and sit
silently, while the others all whisper with each other, sharing theories about
how Ms. Adler met her demise and tales of how badly she treated them, though a
lot of them sound embellished. All of that energy combines with the smell of
old sweat to make the place seem oppressive, no longer commodious and free-
feeling. He slips his phone surreptitiously out of his pocket, planning on
sending a message off to Derek to let him know about this newest development,
but before he can type the first word, the same teacher that walked him and the
others there snatches it from his hands.
He resists the urge to argue when she reprimands him, not wanting to draw
attention.
"The Sheriff's Department has said that no phones are to be used. They don't
want to risk any information getting out before they're ready, so the rest of
you hand yours over, too, please," the teacher instructs, holding out a small
cardboard box. It's soon filled, and she smiles at them all tightly before
wandering off to another group of students.
"What are we going to do?" Danny whispers, his head low.
Sighing, Stiles sags against the wall and wraps his arms around his knees.
"There's nothing we can do but wait, I guess," he replies calmly, the back of
his head bumping against the wood panelling. "Derek should realise something's
wrong when school ends and none of us show up, if this takes that long."
Derek may know already if he can feel Stiles' emotions clearly enough through
their bond. Because they strengthened it again a couple of days ago, Stiles
hopes that's exactly the case. He doesn't want Elizabeth to get angry at his
not showing up in the preserve like she told him to and take a chance at her
going after Derek as payback. It seems like just the sort of crazy thing the
woman would do, so he'd feel better if his mate was around and surrounded by
the protection of civilians.
He doesn't think Elizabeth is stupid enough to make a move in the presence of
so many people. That's what he tells himself, at least.
Time passes incredibly slowly as student after student is led back out of the
gym and into a separate room down the hall to be questioned by a deputy. They
don't reappear afterward, so Stiles assumes they're sent home when the deputies
are finished with them. He anxiously awaits his own turn, not knowing what he
should say. Lying stands out as the obvious option, and it seems strange to him
that he feels grateful for his exceptional ability to bend the truth, tempered
by years of practice, even before this whole supernatural mess started.
Eventually, the deputies call on students closer to the pack, and then it's
their turn. Cora and Lydia are first, breaking up his little coterie, and both
girls look back over their shoulders with unsure expressions before the doors
shut and they're out of sight. Stiles knows they'll know to lie, too. Half an
hour later, Erica and Isaac are called, leaving just him and Jackson alone in
their corner. There are a few other students still left on the other side of
the large room, but they're so far away that it feels to Stiles like they're
not there at all.
He distracts himself by playing with the strings of his hoodie, the black wolf
one Kira gifted him for his birthday, and becomes so caught up in it that he
doesn't hear his name being said until a hand comes to rest on his knee. He
looks up, startled, to find Jordan Parrish looking down at him, concerned. "O-
oh, sorry," he stutters when his mind catches up.
Jackson scoffs disapprovingly as he saunters away, following a different
deputy.
"C'mon, Stiles, it's your turn," Parrish says gently, offering the boy a hand.
He leads his young friend outside and into one of the empty classrooms off of
the next hall over and gestures to one of the desks in the front row once the
door is shut tight. "Have a seat."
Luck might actually be on my side this time, Stiles thinks as he follows
Parrish's instruction. He feels relief because, now that the deputy is aware of
the supernatural goings-on in town and they are the only two people present, he
can tell the truth about what's happening. Still, he waits for the man to start
talking first and leans forward in his hard seat, bracing his elbows on the
desk's smooth wooden surface as Parrish takes his own place leaning against the
teacher's desk.
"Do you know anything about the discovery of Ms. Adler's body outside?" Parrish
asks, pad and pen in hand. The way Stiles' carefully held expression of calm
cracks, showing some nerves, clues him in on the answer.
He should've known.
"Yes," Stiles replies with certainty. He takes a deep breath before continuing
and explaining all the new discoveries he's made since the last time he and
Parrish talked. The man writes none of it down for obvious reasons and just
listens attentively, his face in a state of shock that doesn't change
throughout the entire tale. "So, basically, my friend's mom has been doing all
of this, and she killed Ms. Adler to try and lure me outside. I would've gone,
but...y'know, there was the whole 'no one is allowed to leave' thing. Plus, it
was probably a risky move anyway, since I have no idea what she's capable of
with her powers now-" Cutting himself off when he sees how overwhelmed Parrish
seems, he sympathises with what he knows the deputy is feeling, having both
felt it himself and seen it on the faces of his packmates as they were brought
in to this occasionally harrowing world one by one. He twiddles his thumbs as
he waits for Parrish to process everything and perks up when the man finally
moves to set his notepad down.
Scratching at the back of his head, Parrish feels lost for words. "That's,
uh...a lot," he mumbles lamely before pursing his lips and crossing his arms
over his uniformed chest. "What are you planning on doing about it? Can I help
at all? Because I do want to, y'know, any way I can." He knows that he's ill-
equipped to deal with this latest threat, but he won't let that stop him. He
feels an obligation to the late sheriff to protect his son.
"I'll let you know, on both accounts..." Stiles sighs, resisting the urge to
slam his forehead down on the desk. All he can really do is hope for another
vision, one that will tell him how he can defeat Elizabeth, but until that
happens, he'll look for a way by himself.
They both stay in the classroom for a few minutes longer to avoid looking
suspicious.
When Stiles is let go, he makes a promise to Parrish that he'll keep the man
updated as much as he can. He's quick to grab his things—his phone is difficult
to track down, but eventually he finds the teacher who confiscated it and gets
it back—and exit the school, resolutely keeping his eyes averted from the crime
scene as he scurries across the parking lot to his car. Before he slides in
behind the wheel, a hand on his shoulder makes him leap back in shock before he
senses who it is.
Derek stands a couple of feet away, clad in his signature leather jacket and
looking at him with worry. "God, how many times do I have to ask you not to
scare me like that?" Stiles whines, breathing heavily.
"Sorry," Derek says sincerely, rubbing a hand up and down both of Stiles' arms
in an effort to calm the boy down. Once his touch has worked its magic, he
heads around to the passenger-side door of the blue Camaro, slides in, and
waits for his mate to do the same. Stiles starts the car a second later and
pulls out of the parking space, and he instructs the teen to drive them home.
"The rest of the pack are gathered there already, waiting for us. Are you OK? I
felt you panicking earlier, but when I got here and tried to sneak inside to
check on you, I was told that no one was allowed in or out. What happened?" He
sees Stiles' hands tighten on the steering wheel and stops himself from asking
any more questions, choosing wisely instead to wait for the boy to answer the
ones he's presented already. His mind runs away with him as they draw closer to
their home, providing him with endless horrific images that get progressively
worse. Only the fact that Stiles is sitting alive and relatively well in the
seat next to him prevents him from getting caught up in them all and succumbing
to his own panic.
"Let's wait until we get home, 'K?" Stiles suggests tiredly, feeling guilty for
Ms. Adler's death though he knows with certainty that there was nothing he
could have done to stop it. People dying because of him, even horrible people
and even if their deaths aren't linked to him directly, never feels good.
He's glad when Derek nods and remains silent for the rest of the drive.
Everybody else's vehicles are squished together on the front lawn when he pulls
his own to a stop, and it takes some careful manoeuvring to ease himself
between Jackson's Porsche and Derek's black Camaro. He manages it, though, and
a minute later they're walking through the front door to find the pack waiting
for them in the living room. Their usual spots on the left and in the centre of
the sofa have been left open, and Stiles takes his gladly, falling into it with
a sharp exhale.
Derek is quickly filled in on Elizabeth's latest act of malice. He resolves
that they need to find a way to stop her, and soon, before she can harm any
more innocent people. It becomes like a study session, except instead of going
over material for school, the group tries to come up with any conceivable way
they can overthrow their seemingly unassailable enemy.
"I'm gonna try something..." Stiles speaks up after a couple of fruitless hours
have passed by. "I'll be back soon." He doesn't say anything more than that in
case his plan fails.
Locking himself in the privacy of his and Derek's bedroom, he focuses and makes
sure that the soundproofing is working before taking a seat in the middle of
the large bed. He sits crosslegged, his hands resting on his knees as he takes
repeated breaths, long and deep.
If he's apparently so strong, then what he's attempting should work. At least
he hopes as much.
He's never tried to initiate a vision on his own before, so he's left drifting
in a sea of confusion for a while as he tries to figure out just how to
accomplish the task. There are no candles, no Nemeton beneath him to give him
power, and no strange-smelling paste smeared across the skin of his face to
guide his way. It's just him, alone in his for-once clear head. His breathing
becomes rhythmic and automatic as he narrows his mind down to a single thought,
a single desire: to find a way to defeat Elizabeth with as little bloodshed as
possible. Suddenly, his world tilts and he finds himself lying on his side,
reclined on something hard and smooth that's definitely not the soft bed sheets
upon which he was just sitting. Cracking open one eye, he pushes himself up and
looks around to find that he's in a strange room. Nothing about it looks
familiar, but from the rows of bookcases that span its entire length, he can
tell it's a library of sorts. Nothing is visible outside of the windows to tell
him where he is, and when he scans the shelves he finds he cannot read a thing.
Every label is in a strange language, one he doesn't recognise at all, and even
stranger still is the conspicuous absence of any books on the bookcases. Row
after row is completely empty, and he is just beginning to wonder what answers
could possibly await him there when he spots something.
A lone book lies on the middle shelf of the bookcase at the back of the room,
pressed up against a wall. It's thick and hard-backed, the old cover peeling
and threatening to disintegrate into dust at the slightest touch. He picks it
up carefully and carries it over to a table before opening it and hovering his
hands over the yellowed pages. Frowning, he finds that the text is written in
the same strange language, and he guesses that it must be a lost tongue,
something esoteric and long forgotten except by a select few.
With a disappointed whine, he slips back and lands heavily in one of the wooden
chairs around the table. He turns the book's pages aimlessly, not really
expecting anything to happen.
Because of this, he's surprised when something changes.
He comes across a double page that's written in English and devours the words
like they're curly fries and he hasn't eaten in a week—the fact that he
actually has experience with that is quickly brushed off. As he reads, he
almost fist-pumps the air when he finds that it could be just what they need,
if it works. Closing the book, he holds it against his chest and closes his
eyes once more, letting the strange, eerily silent room fade away as the chair
on which he still sits gets slowly softer. A second later, he hears knocking
and looks around to see that he's back in his and Derek's bedroom, and said man
is calling for him through the locked door, sounding worried. He shuffles over
to the edge of the bed and stands, the old book still in his arms, and flicks
the lock open so that he can get out. Transferring the book under one arm, he
pats Derek consolingly on one bearded cheek when the door swings inward and he
sees the deep frown on the alpha's face. Derek leans into his touch and huffs
out a sharp breath, eyes flicking down briefly to the book before resettling on
his face.
"What happened? I was trying to reach you for almost a full minute before you
answered," Derek mumbles as he follows his mate back downstairs. He can smell
magic, and he guesses the scent of it belongs to Stiles because it's not like
what he smelled last night from Elizabeth.
"Sorry," Stiles apologises sincerely, bumping their shoulders together after
they've both retaken their seats on the sofa. All of the betas watch them
curiously. "I was getting this," he sets the book on the coffee table, the
muscles of his arms thanking him because the substantial weight of it was
starting to strain them, "and I guess I just lost track of time."
Lydia reaches for it and uses the smooth surface of the table to turn it around
easily. "What is it?" she asks, becoming more interested when she finds she
can't read the worn lettering on the cover.
"A book," Stiles answers cheekily.
He can't help smiling when the banshee sighs and rolls her eyes in
exasperation. "No, but seriously... I tried using my magic to find a way to
bring down Elizabeth, and I was led to that." Talking everyone through
everything that happened, he blushes deeply when Derek compliments him on his
idea and brushes off any more praise. He's still pleased about making his mate
proud of him, though, but he doesn't tell anyone, feeling weird with the pack
all still staring at them.
Opening the book to the double page Stiles dog-eared, Lydia reads the spell.
Her eyes widen in shock and her face tightens with apprehension as she nears
the end. "If you can pull this off, Stiles...this could be the answer to all
our problems," she offers approvingly, impressed.
"Yeah...don't jinx me," Stiles jokes, not really joking at all.
                                     * * *
Later, not long after everybody's parents have demanded they come home and talk
to them about what happened earlier at school, Stiles reads over the spell he
found again. The list of ingredients is long and incredibly complex, and the
things he'll have to go through to enact the spell itself once they're all
gathered is daunting and a little sickening. He makes quick trips out to the
preserve and back to Deaton's clinic in order to get everything ready, planning
the whole time that, when Elizabeth is gone and things have settled down again,
he'll really have to make a start at growing his own herbs in his and Derek's
back garden. The perfect picture forms in his mind, of a small flourishing plot
right beside his vegetable patch. It will definitely save him some time in the
future, and it'll also mean fewer excursions to steal from Deaton's dwindling
supplies. He's sure that the man will appreciate that. Once he has everything
he needs and returns home, he finds Derek waiting for him in the foyer, leather
jacket and shoes on, phone in one hand.
The man says he wants to keep an eye on things, so throughout the night he'll
be patrolling several times around town and checking up on each member of the
pack to make sure they're still alright.
Stiles makes him a thermos of coffee before he leaves.
After Derek is gone, Stiles stands in the foyer and tries to determine where
the best place to attempt the spell would be. In the end, he decides on one of
the training rooms in the old catacombs just off the basement gym and descends
the stairs to start setting everything up. He has to make several trips, and
his thighs ache and small beads of sweat have formed on his forehead by the
time he's carried it all down there because of the sheer amount of stairs he's
had to take repeatedly.
Ordinarily, he would've enlisted his mate's help, but Derek is not around to
provide him with any. At least his absence is for a good cause, Stiles muses.
And honestly, because of what this spell entails, it will probably be better
for both of them if Derek isn't around to see him attempt it.
He finds it a little seedy, an opinion Lydia shared with him before she left.
In spite of this and the fact that he's scared out of his mind, he shuts the
door leading down to the basement and heads down the long, dimly lit hallway to
the training rooms one last time, a sizeable kitchen knife in his trembling
hand. He drops the knife with everything else, unfolds a large towel, and
spreads it out across the floor. Things are probably going to get messy, and he
doesn't want to give himself any more to clean up than he can avoid. His next
step is to light a series of candles and place them in a ring around where
he'll be sitting, an action that is fast becoming second nature, followed by
lighting them and taking his place. Pulling all of the spell's other components
closer, he says a small prayer before taking a deep breath and holding it as,
by its legs, he picks up the fawn he tracked down in the preserve earlier. He
was thankfully able to put it to sleep with magic instead of having to capture
it by hand. Derek didn't appear to notice it laid conspicuously across the
backseat of his car when he returned home from Deaton's clinic, saving him from
an awkward explanation.
If it were awake, he doesn't think he would have the nerve to do what he has to
do next, but because it's deep in sleep, completely unaware, he proceeds,
silently cursing the spell for requiring the sacrifice of an innocent the whole
time. Taking the knife, he whispers a quiet, "Sorry," to the fawn before
clenching his eyes shut and stabbing it right through the neck.
Blood spurts everywhere, its little heart still pumping, and he hastily
positions the gaping wound over the metal ceremonial bowl he borrowed from
Deaton until it fills disgustingly with the red, viscous fluid.
Some spills over, so he lays the fawn back down, next to him on the towel, and
strokes his bloodied hands—both literally and figuratively—across the fur of
its side until its lungs stop filling with air. Tears form in his eyes when it
takes its last breath. His reputation as the most sagacious member of the pack
might take a hit if the spell doesn't work, and he hopes that what he's just
done isn't deleterious to his soul and that Derek will understand if he should
ever find out.
Magic is fucked up, he thinks as he blinks away the wetness in his eyes.
After wiping away the lone tear that ran down his cheek, he swallows tightly
and moves on to the next part of the spell. Using a mortar and pestle, he
crushes up every other ingredient he brought down with him until they mix
together into a powder finer than the sand found in an hourglass.
This is tipped and mixed into the blood, making it thicker like syrup. Dipping
his index finger in, he draws a line across each cheek and a third down the
centre of his forehead before wiping his hand off on the towel and preparing
himself for what he knows will be the most difficult part of the spell, and
considering what he's already had to do, that's saying something. Picking the
bowl up, he doesn't give himself a chance to think it over any longer as he
brings the rim to his lips and begins drinking it down, his body immediately
rebelling and trying to throw it all back up again. He perseveres. The blood
feels hot in his stomach, like it's burning him from the inside out as penance
for the slaughter of its old owner, but he doesn't worry about it too much
because the book warned him of this feeling beforehand. When the last drop is
forced down his throat, he drops the bowl with a clang and hunches over,
coughing and retching and breathing heavily as he waits for it to settle. "This
better be fucking worth it..." he groans before returning to sit with his back
straight.
Legs crossed and hands palms-up on his knees, Stiles tries to ignore the foul
taste of copper that stays on his tongue as he closes his eyes and recites from
memory the incantation which mercifully serves as the spell's final step. It's
longwinded, and he stumbles a couple of times before getting it right.
As soon as the last word leaves his lips, all of the candles blow out and the
single bulb above his head flickers and dies, leaving him in total darkness.
That's when it happens.
Pain shoots through his veins, spreading out from his stomach and burning until
it reaches the tips of his fingers and toes. He tips over onto his side,
gritting his teeth through it all to stop himself from making any loud noises.
Time is immaterial. He couldn't keep track of how long he lies there, shaking
and whimpering, if he tried. It's worse than submerging himself in ice water,
worse still than what he felt when Landon attempted to rip his fire powers from
his body.
As abruptly as it started, it stops. He stays where he is, hardly daring to
believe that it's really over, but eventually, he cracks open his eyes and
stands cautiously, afraid that another jolt of pain will render him useless
once more. Nothing happens, though, so he leaves everything where it is, walks
back through to the gym, and studies himself in one of the floor-to-ceiling
mirrors to see if anything has physically changed.
Disappointment doesn't grip him when he sees nothing out of the ordinary,
barring the fawn's blood still on his face, because he thought the spell would
probably be all internal anyway.
Concentrating, he gathers every little piece of magical power in his being and
visualises it compressing down into a tiny ball in his mind. He begins to feel
weaker as it gets smaller, and he takes that as a sign that the spell has
worked. Sighing in relief, he lets the power loose again to reinvigorate
himself and goes to make a start at cleaning up the spell ingredients he left
out in the training room. The dead fawn is the most difficult thing to dispose
of, and he apologises to it again as it wraps it up in the towel and carries it
outside. He takes it a little way out into the preserve and buries it in its
own small grave, patting the soil down flat so that the disturbed earth is as
inconspicuous as possible before returning to the house to shower all the dried
blood from his skin. A surprise waits for him there, though, one that impedes
his plan, one that's unwanted and stops him in his tracks when he crosses the
tree line and enters the back garden. Elizabeth. She stands in front of the
back door, facing the house with her hands clasped behind her back.
He contemplates backtracking and calling Derek when he's far enough away that
she won't hear him, but before he can even move one step, the woman turns
around and smiles at him knowingly. So much for that, he thinks nervously,
fearing the worst about why she's there.
"My, my, haven't you been busy!" Elizabeth coos.
Her eyes flick across his body briefly, and Stiles guesses she's eying the
blood still on his skin and clothes. He hopes she doesn't know what it's from.
When she starts moving toward him, he calls forth his fire until his palms and
eyes glow as he stumbles backward, but his focus is lost and the glow fades
again in his panic when his heel catches on a tree root and he almost topples
over.
"Oh, come now, Stiles! There's no need to be so scared of me," Elizabeth
chuckles, choosing to stay where she is now, a few feet from the house instead
of right next to it. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." When
Stiles gathers himself and stares at her disbelievingly, she chuckles again
before making her face as innocent-looking as possible. "Where's your dear
Derek? Off lolloping about, doing alpha-wolfy things? He's very cute, I must
say. Quite the catch."
Stiles remains silent, not rising to the fatuous bait Elizabeth is so obviously
dangling in front of his face. "If you're not here to kill me, then why are you
here?" he dares to ask, keeping his stance strong.
"Why didn't you come see me outside of the school earlier, Stiles? I was
waiting there for you for hours," Elizabeth counters, her voice creepily sweet
like a schoolgirl's. "It was quite disappointing, I must say. I mean, a boy
like you surely could have gotten around the police and found a way to meet me.
Oh well... I suppose it doesn't matter too much now. I see you've been busy
doing something messy, and I sense that something about you has changed because
of it." She holds out a hand that makes Stiles jump and moves it leisurely
through the air, her eyes slipping closed as she gets a feel for just what
exactly is different about the boy. They open again when she finds what she's
looking for. "Ah, I see what you've done now. Very clever. Very clever,
indeed... I've known other, more experienced people who failed where you've
succeeded, so I must congratulate you on pulling it off. Too bad I can't
actually let you use it, though." Without waiting for Stiles to react, she
sends the boy sprawling backward with a flick of her wrist and approaches his
dizzied form quickly.
Kneeling down next to Stiles, Elizabeth rests her hand on his forehead in an
almost motherly touch. "I was planning on doing this myself later, but I think
it will be much more fun for your friends if we do things this way, don't you
think?" she asks rhetorically as she pulls all of Stiles' magic to the surface
and injects some of her own into it, contaminating its blinding whiteness with
black.
As soon as she finishes, she hears hurried footsteps approaching. "Time for me
to leave. I'm sure you'll figure out what to do," she whispers. She stands and
runs for the trees just as Stiles begins coming around again, smiling to
herself the whole way.
"Stiles!" Derek yells, skidding to a stop next to his mate.
Scott, Danny and Isaac watch from a couple of feet away as Derek picks up
Stiles' groaning form and carries him into the house, covering their noses when
the stench of blood and fresh dirt reaches them. None of them dare to speak,
remaining silent as they tail the alpha into the living room and take up
different positions. Scott stands by the window, keeping watch, Danny is by the
kitchen doorway, and Isaac takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table, ready
to help if Derek asks him to.
Groaning again, Stiles pushes himself up from where he lies on the sofa and
holds a hand to his head as he waits for the spots in his vision to clear.
"Ugh, fuck that bitch..." he mumbles.
"Are you OK?" Isaac asks, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his
knees. The scent of blood is sickening, and his stomach turns unpleasantly when
he gets another whiff of it. It doesn't belong to the boy himself, so he
wonders what Stiles could possibly have done to get himself covered in the
stuff and guesses that he won't like the answer. "You smell awful..."
"Yeah, thanks," Stiles sighs as he stands. He waves away Derek's hands when
they try to push him back down on the sofa and leaves the room, heading for the
stairs to finally take that shower he was planning before Elizabeth interrupted
him. Derek follows him, he knows, but when the wolf tries to accompany him in
the bathroom, he pushes him back with a hand on his firm chest and shuts the
door before the man can actually get through, ignoring his protests. "You stay
out there, Sourwolf! I'll be out in a minute, and we can talk then." He wants
to examine himself in private to find out what Elizabeth has done to him. Her
words outside sounded muffled because his mind was still foggy from slamming it
into the ground, but he thinks he got the gist of them. It's worrying, but as
he strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower stall and still finds
that nothing seems out of place, he lets himself breathe again. The water that
swirls down the drain is an ugly brown for a while until all the blood and dirt
on his skin is scrubbed off.
He still has the faint taste of fawn's blood on his tongue, so he brushes his
teeth vigorously.
Something strange is definitely happening to him, that much he can tell. What
it is, though...that eludes him. It's pulsing beneath his skin, a nagging
sensation that makes him feel strangely tainted, similar to what he felt for
weeks after the Nogitsune was expelled from his body.
After stepping into a pair of loose sweatpants, he tries again to gather all of
his power into a ball, but it's harder this time. His magic doesn't cooperate.
It fights him every step of the way, and at the last second, just before he's
able to mould the last spark of it into place, it flies out of his body and
shatters the mirror above the sink, making him leap back with a startled yell.
Derek knocks loudly on the door, but he can't find it in himself to answer.
Everything feels wrong.
So very wrong.
The next thing he knows, the door is open and Derek is gripping him tightly by
the shoulders, shaking him gently and asking if he's alright. He doesn't know
how to articulate everything he's feeling in that moment, so he just pushes
past the alpha and races downstairs and outside. Somehow, he's managed to keep
the rest of his magic held tightly in its ball, but it's getting harder.
Being inside the house when he finally loses control would not be a good idea,
he knows, so even though he can hear all four wolves calling after him in their
own states of panic, he doesn't stop running until he gets as far away from his
home as he can. The coldness of the night air doesn't affect him, but he
doesn't give himself time to wonder why. "Stay back!" he shouts when he sees
Derek and Isaac approaching him cautiously out of the corner of his eye. They
both move slowly like they're approaching a frightened animal, and Stiles
guesses that is half true. "I mean it, guys! I don't want to hurt you!" Now
that the shock of his magic rebelling against him has worn off, he can look
more closely at it to see just what is going on. It's a strange thing, almost
being able to see it before his eyes like its a tangible thing, but he's
grateful for it now because, after a few seconds of watching it spin in place,
swirling inside its little ball, he sees what the problem is. There is a small
dark spot in the white which is getting bigger, and he knows that whatever
happens when it reaches its full size won't be good.
Derek senses that Stiles is serious in his warning, so as much as it kills him
to do so, he stops himself and Isaac from moving any closer to the human boy.
Somehow, Stiles can tell the exact moment when the blackness of Elizabeth's
magic wins, becoming larger than and subjugating the light of his own until it
has no choice but to obey its whims. Before he loses control completely, he
crouches down on the ground and yells, "Get back!" as he covers his head with
his arms. He doesn't have time to make sure everyone has gotten out of range
before he's forced to let go, not that he even knows what the range for
something like this is.
The force of it is devastating.
It's a shockwave, expanding rapidly outward in a substantial radius and
bringing down everything it touches. Tree roots are ripped violently from the
earth as they are bowled over, shaking the ground as their heavy trunks come
down on it as one. Stiles stays where he is, breathing hard.
Derek lifts his head from where he has it buried in his arms. At Stiles' last
warning, he'd thrown himself backward and ended up flat on his stomach, praying
that Isaac had the good sense to do the same. Neither Danny nor Scott came this
far out, so they're probably safe. He gets to his feet now and looks over the
devastation with horror, finding that he was thankfully out of the path of any
falling trees.
He doesn't see Isaac in the immediate area, so he assumes optimistically that
the beta was able to save himself from being crushed as well. He's usually
light enough on his feet.
The sight of the trees reminds him of the time when, a few months ago, Stiles
had made him watch a couple of episodes of Supernatural, in one of which the
character of Dean Winchester dug his way out of his own grave and found the
trees surrounding it knocked over, arranged like petals on a flower. He usually
thinks of himself as an equable person, but this really gets to him, especially
when his eyes land on his mate's shaking body, still crouched down low to the
ground. The scent of magic is heavy in the air, but where Stiles' magic usually
smells quite pleasant—fresh, like a mixture of grass, honey and pine—this time,
there's a distinct vein of something malodorous, like half-rotten eggs and
cooking meat. "Stiles...?" he asks uncertainly as he gets closer, guessing that
the worst is over and it's now safe to do so. Stiles doesn't react to him at
all until he reaches out a hand and touches his shoulder, at which point the
boy gasps as if shocked and flails away. The smell of salt joins the other
smells permeating the air, emanating from the tears in Stiles' eyes as the teen
looks anywhere but up at him.
What he should do, he doesn't know.
"Don't touch me..." Stiles chokes out, sniffling and crawling away another
couple of feet when Derek takes another step toward him. "I mean it! I'm not
safe to be around right now... Whatever she did to me...I don't have control."
The darkness is still there, threatening to cause more havoc any second.
Ignoring the first half of Stiles' words, Derek edges ever closer until he
drops to his knees right next to the boy. He doesn't know how to handle the
situation. Ordinarily, he'd just draw his mate right into his arms and console
him until the crying has stopped completely, but given the second half of
Stiles' warning, Derek is more cautious. Still, the sight of more tears leaking
from the teen's eyes pulls at something deep in his chest, and he just as to
try anyway.
He reaches out and takes one of Stiles' hands in his own, starting small. So
far, so good, he thinks with relief. Feeling more confident, he attempts to
pull Stiles closer, and that's when things go wrong. Heat spreads suddenly
across his palm, and he recoils when Stiles' hand glows with fire, burning him.
Hissing through his teeth, he waits for the pain to fade before looking back
up.
"I told you..." Stiles says hoarsely. "I'm not safe."
***** Darkness *****
Stiles tries to keep himself as calm as possible. It's a difficult task. Though
his magic doesn't seem to hunger for destruction anymore, he knows that the
worst isn't over. Elizabeth's words circle round and round in his head on
repeat, tormenting him, terrifying him, making him question everything about
his place in the pack. Whatever she did to him is meant to affect everyone,
he's sure, and though he hates the woman with a passion, he has to admit that
getting him to do her dirty work like this is infuriatingly smart. The tears
have stopped coming, his eyes tapped out, and it's with shaky legs that he gets
to his feet and begins walking home, heedless of the fact that Derek is no
longer trying to follow him. On his way, he passes Isaac, and, further out,
Scott and Danny, and all three betas eye him warily, like they're afraid he'll
snap and try to hurt them at any given moment. It's a depressingly familiar
feeling, and truthfully, he can't blame them. Even he isn't so sure he could
stop himself if the darkness Elizabeth has tainted him with decides it wants to
go another round. So he walks alone without comment, his body aching and tired.
All he wants to do is fall into bed and sleep for a year straight, maybe more.
The house is unsettlingly quiet and dark when he reaches it and, to get away
from the suffocating feeling, he plans on giving in to his body's demands for
rest, walking slowly up the stairs and into his and Derek's bedroom. The bed
looks so comfortable and inviting, so he falls atop it without bothering to
pull back the sheets and buries his face in his pillow.
Unconsciousness is mercifully quick to whisk him away from reality.
Meanwhile, back in the preserve, Derek finally moves from his spot on the
ground and turns in the direction in which his mate had walked off. Though he's
scared of Stiles' current unpredictability, he doesn't want to abandon him in
his time of need, so he jogs, almost runs really, back home.
He finds Scott, Danny and Isaac lingering outside of the back door, all three
of them looking uncertain about actually going inside. He shoulders past them
and does just that without hesitation, using his senses to guide him to his
mate's current location. The sight of Stiles lying face-down on their bed, out
cold and frowning even in slumber, pulls at his heartstrings, and he's
powerless to resist crawling onto the mattress next to the boy and wrapping him
up in his arms in a futile effort to keep him safe and fool himself into
believing that everything is A-OK. There's no burning now, thankfully, Stiles
powers apparently dormant in his sleep.
The door opens couple of minutes later and the three betas enter the room, each
of them still looking unsure but pushing through the feeling. They take places
on the mattress without saying a word, Isaac lying on Stiles' other side with
Danny pressed up right behind him, and Scott lying down along the foot of the
bed. They're still very much unnerved by what happened out in the preserve, but
they decided after some discussion downstairs that they would be there for
Stiles in any way they could.
Derek feels a little better with some of his pack there, and his eyes slip
closed after sending up a prayer to whomever may be listening, begging them to
help him keep Stiles and the rest of his pack safe.
                                     * * *
- Wednesday, September 26th, 2012 -
Stiles startles awake the next morning, unsure of where he is. He sits up in
bed and looks around with wide eyes, the sheets he doesn't remember getting
under pooling down around his waist with the movement. The other side of the
mattress is cold, Derek nowhere to be found, and the sun is just barely
beginning to shine through the closed red curtains, casting a warm and homey
glow around the room that is such a contrast to how frazzled his nerves still
feel. The clock tells him that it's gone time for him to get up for school,
meaning that Derek hasn't tried to wake him. He doesn't know what to make of
that, whether it's an act of kindness or fear. Neither would surprise him.
Turning, he swings his legs around until his feet touch the carpeted floor and
stands, stretching and groaning as every muscle of his body protests. Waking up
sore is fast becoming an annoyingly common occurrence, it seems, one he prays
stops happening soon. Looking inside of himself, he's disheartened to find that
the darkness is still there, right next to the remaining light of his magic.
It was naive of him to hope even for a second that it would be gone after one
night.
Going to school is obviously not an option until the issue is resolved. In
fact, being around anybody at all seems like a good way to inadvertently get
them hurt, or worse killed, so he walks over to the bedroom door and flicks the
lock into place, effectively cutting himself off from the rest of the world.
While he's there, he presses his ear right up against the wood and listens to
see if he can hear anyone else in the house. Faint murmurings drift up to him
from what he assumes is the living room, more than one voice, and he's easily
able to pick them out as Derek's and Lydia's because they're both being quite
loud. It sounds like they're arguing with each other, but the subject of said
argument is lost on him because all of their words just blend together into one
long noise. Even so, it's not hard to guess that it's about him.
Like they know he's awake now, his phone chirps from where it lays on his
nightstand, and he walks over to look down at the lit-up screen and cautiously
reads the most recent text. It's from Lydia—'I know what you're planning, and
I'm telling you right now that it's not going to work. So get your ass down
here before I let Derek go up there and kick the door in for you.'
Huffing out an indignant breath, he decides to acquiesce for the time being.
Maybe if he explains his train of thought in person, they'll understand why his
being sequestered is for the best.
After taking a random shirt from the dresser and putting it on, Stiles
begrudgingly unlocks the door again and walks out into the hallway, noting that
the talking downstairs stops as he approaches the stairs. When he gets
downstairs and into the living room, he's shocked to find that everybody is
there, not just Lydia and Derek. "What's going on? Why are you all here?" he
asks, reluctantly letting Derek guide him further into the room and shove him
down onto the sofa, right next to Isaac. When everyone continues to stare at
him with open concern, ten pairs of eyes boring into his skull—Jackson is the
only one who doesn't seem to care, choosing instead to stare longingly out of
the window like he wishes he was anywhere else, doing anything else—he shifts
uncomfortably in his seat and swallows tightly. It feels almost like an
intervention, and the thought makes him chuckle nervously, the sound ending in
an awkward cough when no one seems to share his amusement. "Seriously, guys,
this is super unnecessary. I was fine upstairs, so could just get on with
whatever this is so that I can go back up there, please?"
"Nope," Erica replies without a pause, popping the 'P' in between chewing some
gum.
"I'm getting a coffee before we start..." Lydia comments as she gets off of
Jackson's lap and smooths her dress down to rid the expensive fabric of all its
wrinkles. She can easily tell that Stiles is going to be uncooperative at
first, and she needs a large dose of caffeine if she's going to survive that
part of their upcoming conversation. "Anybody else want one?" Following several
tired nods, she heads into the kitchen and switches on the pot before gathering
several mugs and organising them neatly on a tray with the sugar bowl. She taps
her manicured nails impatiently on the countertop as she waits for the pot to
beep.
Back in the living room, the wait for Lydia's return verges on unbearable. No
one feels at ease, least of all Stiles, and after a minute he slumps back in
his seat defeatedly, the fight he had when he left his bedroom disappearing
before he's even had a chance to use it.
He's disappointed with himself, honestly. The only good thing that comes from
waiting is that the pack seem to tire of watching him, like their suspicions of
an escape attempt are gone, which, he supposes, is true. The fact that Derek
hasn't tried to touch him since forcing him into his seat is affecting him more
than he cares to admit, but he can't find it in himself to blame the man. He'd
be just the same.
Lydia comes back into the living room a couple of minutes later, tray in hand
with five steaming mugs of coffee balanced atop it, which she sets on the
table. She takes hers before sitting down once more.
"Right...Stiles," she begins, cupping her hands around her drink to warm them,
"let's just rip the Bandaid off, huh? Hiding yourself away from us is a stupid
thing to do, one I would've thought was beneath you. Really, I'm a little
disappointed." Normally, she wouldn't bother saying any of this out loud even
though she means every word, but because of how bullheaded Stiles is being, she
knows she has to be blunt to get through to him and for him to see reason. He
won't listen otherwise, because, after all, he is still a member of the lesser
sex. "I know whatever Elizabeth has done to you must be scary—trust me, I do;
I've seen the results of last night's little outburst with my own eyes, which
under other circumstances would've been very impressive, just so you know—but
locking yourself away won't be good for anybody. Think about it—there are two
options here: Number one, you hide away and leave us all to be picked off
without you, or number two, you stick around, we deal with the problems you're
experiencing and stop them, and then we stop Elizabeth together, as a pack.
"I think the second option is the best one, don't you?"
Shaking his head, Stiles sits forward again and tries to formulate his thoughts
in a way that the others will understand. With how muddled his brain feels,
it's not easy. "But...whatever she did to me, to my magic, it's still there,
and it's supposed to affect you.
"That's what she said when she did it, that this way would be 'more fun' for
her, and since the whole purpose of her stealing the Nemeton's power was so
that she could recast her curses on all of us, isn't it obvious that that's
exactly what she means for me to do now?" He gets a little worked up as he
talks, his desperation for Lydia and the others to come around to his way of
thinking bleeding through, and as a result, the tenuous control he's managed to
keep over his magic since waking up slips a little.
A jet of flame shoots forth from his left hand, hitting the carpet and setting
a small patch of it ablaze. Derek jumps away from the fire like he's the one
being burned, his aversion to it still firmly held, and he stays back with open
fear on his face until Boyd appears with a fire extinguisher in his hands and
takes care of it. A ring of black is left behind, another carpet that'll need
replacing.
Stiles feels awful, and he presses a hand to his eyes to avoid seeing the
pack's faces. He knows that they are all probably looking at him, frightened,
no matter what lies Lydia is spouting.
"See?" he huffs, sticking both of his hands between his thighs now in hopes of
avoiding any more accidents. "How is it a good idea for me to be around you all
when the smallest thing can set me off? Answer: it's not, so you should just
let me go back upstairs and you should all go to school like normal so you're
far away from here..." At the end of his last sentence, Derek edges back toward
the sofa and retakes his seat tentatively, the sofa sagging under the weight of
his muscled body, and Stiles refrains from looking over at the man because he
knows that if he does, he'll give in and beg him to stay, and while the thought
of being completely by himself again is utterly terrifying, his being alone is
for the good of everybody. The darkness in his magic pulses wildly as if in
disapproval of this plan, only furthering his resolve, so before anyone can try
to refute his words, he gets up and tries to walk from the room and back
upstairs, to the relative safety of his and Derek's empty bedroom. He doesn't
make it more than three steps, though, before a large, gentle hand linking with
his own stops him.
"That's not going to happen, Stiles..." Derek says quietly, his heart rate
finally calming down again.
Everyone else nods, Erica the hardest, her blonde curls bouncing. "Besides, the
school's closed for the rest of week because of what Elizabeth did to Ms.
Adler, so we have nowhere else to be but here," she explains with a smirk on
her cherry red lips. "You'll just have to get over yourself and deal with it."
Derek's touch does things to Stiles' magic that he doesn't like. The darkness
shifts again, this time in desire, and attempts to creep down along his arm
from its new home in his chest, reaching for the man who continues to hold on
to him. He's unable to shake Derek off, and he feels too helpless, too tired to
do anything as a small piece of the darkness breaks off from its host and seeps
into the soft skin of his mate's palm, infecting him, too. Derek doesn't seem
to notice that anything is amiss.
Stiles knows that he can't react the way he wants. That would just be asking
for another fire to be set, and he can't do that to Derek, can't put him
through watching as fire destroys his home again, for a third time. It's too
late now to stop the darkness getting to Derek, so he sighs and relents.
"Fine," he whispers, his eyes closing, "but none of you should touch me."
Derek finally lets him go at this, so he leaves for the kitchen to get himself
some breakfast.
"Well...that went smoother than I was expecting," Lydia chirps, pleased with
what she perceives as her victory, even though the others helped, too, mostly
just by being present.
                                     * * *
Hours pass by, miraculously without incident. Everyone wisely heeds Stiles'
warning and refrains from coming into physical contact with him, skirting
around him every time they happen to be in the same room. Derek is the only
exception, and Stiles basically sticks to his side the entire time, waiting for
any signs that the darkness he accidentally fed to the man is beginning to work
its magic, so to speak. He doesn't want to let Derek out of his sight for a
second, not even to allow him to use the toilet, which leads to one of their
rare fights because the wolf inevitably has to do more than urinate eventually.
If Stiles had his way, he wouldn't let that stop him—it's not like seeing Derek
take a shit would change anything at all, he thinks; in his mind, they've
already more than reached the level of intimacy and comfort in their
relationship that would be required for something like that—but he's forced to
relent when the man slams the door in his face before he can enter the bathroom
after him. He feels a little angry at first, but when his magic flares up again
he's quick to tamp the emotion down and just waits outside until Derek
finishes.
Derek doesn't know what to make of Stiles' sudden clinginess. Sure, the boy has
always been a very affectionate and tactile person, some would say overly so,
but he's never minded before. That's not to say he minds now, but the change is
definitely a cause for concern in his eyes.
He doesn't ask the reason, though.
In the end, when things finally start to happen, Stiles choosing to act as
Derek's shadow doesn't do anything to stop it because the man isn't the first
one affected by his new darkness. Scott is the first one to feel anything
strange, a lack of control when it comes to keeping his eyes their natural
colour. They flash intermittently, regardless of the fact that he doesn't want
them to, and it's a lucky thing that school was cancelled, otherwise someone
unaware of the supernatural world would definitely see.
There's nothing he can do to stop it, and it just gets worse as time goes on.
Before Stiles and the others can even try to get to the bottom of it, other
things start to happen that steal their attention.
Isaac starts freaking out at the smallest thing. Lydia drops a knife on the
kitchen floor while she's trying to cut a bagel in half, and the clattering
sound causes him to practically leap into the air like a startled cat, his
fangs and claws bared and real panic in his eyes. He becomes overwhelmingly
paranoid, more so than he ever remembers being.
Even when he was still human and living with his dad, fearing constantly that
he'd slip up and someone would see his bruises, revealing his shameful secret
to the whole school, it was never this bad. No one can touch him without him
wanting to scream and claw at them to try and get away, not even Danny, and he
ends up shutting himself in the hall closet just to get away from everyone,
wanting no eyes on him while he still has enough of his wits about him to feel
embarrassment. His grip on his mind doesn't last long, though, and he begins
hearing voices in his head, one voice in particular that makes goosebumps
appear on his arms and every hair on his body stand up on end. He's paralysed
with fear, not even able to open his mouth and make a noise of distress or a
call for help, as his dad appears in front of him, his form ghostlike,
translucent. Within the confines of the closet, the man's presence feels even
more oppressive, suffocating, and Isaac cowers back against the wall as he gets
closer, only mere inches remaining between them. His dad's face holds such
contempt, but he can't look away. Their eyes are locked.
He has a second to regret shutting himself away somewhere small, somewhere so
reminiscent of the old fridge in the basement, trapped inside of which he spent
so much of his teenage life, before his dad grins and reaches out to get a hand
on him.
After that, he doesn't remember anything.
Erica has another seizure right in the middle of the kitchen. Boyd is there to
get her through it, following the example Stiles set the last time it happened.
She comes out the other side of it apparently OK, but she's left feeling weak,
unimaginably so. Boyd walks her into the living room and helps her into a seat
on the sofa, where she waits for her werewolf healing to kick in and make her
feel better, but it never happens. Instead, it just seems to get worse and
worse.
Her head continues to pound, all of her muscles ache, and when she goes to
growl in frustration, the sound doesn't come. She can't make it, and she begins
to panic when her eyes don't flash and no claws or fangs come from her nails
and teeth. She's human again, as weak and powerless and incapacitated by her
epilepsy as she used to be before Derek gave her the bite.
Boyd tries to comfort her, but his words get stuck in his throat. He presses a
hand to his neck and coughs to see if he can clear it, but it doesn't help.
He's unable to speak at all, silenced.
Surprisingly, he's the first one to come to a conclusion about what must be
happening, not Stiles or Lydia. What Elizabeth has done to Stiles' magic is
beginning to affect the entire pack in different ways, more viciously than
before. He doesn't allow himself to panic and just keeps on stroking a hand
through Erica's long hair to soothe her and himself as he thinks about his own
predicament. Before, when he was friendless and lonely, he used to feel like no
one listened to him, not even his parents, especially not after the
disappearance of his sister, the only person in his life who really paid him
any attention.
Because he felt like he had no voice then, now he literally doesn't.
In the dining room, Scott's condition is worsening at an alarming rate. He's
stuck in his beta form now and reacts violently whenever someone comes near
him, even Allison and Kira. A low, constant growl comes from his chest, and
while he still has enough control of his mind to understand words, he hears
Stiles trying to placate him, suggesting that he go downstairs, into one of the
training rooms, until they figure out a way to stop what's happening to him.
It's a struggle, but he manages to get himself to walk there, one foot after
the other, even though all his body wants to do is turn right around and maim
the nearest warm body, to render flesh from bone and soak up their screams of
agony. Derek has just locked the last shackle around his ankle when his
rationality goes completely, leaving nothing but a wild animal behind. He snaps
his teeth and pulls valiantly against the restraints, trying to get to Derek
and sink his claws deep into the man's chest, to his pumping heart. The metal
of the shackles has wolfsbane embedded inside of it, though, preventing escape.
"This is crazy!" Stiles exclaims when he and Derek reenter the gym and the
alpha shuts the door to the catacombs behind them. "Everyone's going crazy! I
knew this would happen, but did any of you listen? No! Of course you didn't...
Fuck!" He keeps his palms pressed together so that any fire that escapes from
his heightened emotions goes out immediately.
"It probably would've happened anyway, Stiles, so calm down and let's go see if
anyone else has been affected yet, OK?" Derek suggests sagely, guiding the boy
back up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Things have devolved even further in their absence.
Danny is still attempting to get Isaac out of the hall closet, but the curly-
haired beta has stopped talking back, the only sounds coming through now being
quiet whimpers. Allison stands in the kitchen, her hands clutching the side of
the island, white-knuckled. Her body is wracked with small tremors as tears
leak steadily from her eyes, which are white and sightless, just like they were
in the first vision Stiles had over a month before. No one else seems equipped
to help her, so he steps up.
"Ali?" he calls carefully, reaching out a hand to touch the girl's shoulder
when her head snaps around in his direction. She jumps when he makes contact,
but she leans into the touch afterward. "Let's get you sat down, OK? You can
keep Erica and Boyd company until we sort this out."
In the living room, they find the two betas curled up together on the sofa,
reclined across its entire length. The blonde is sleeping, somehow oblivious to
all the commotion still happening around her, and the dark-skinned boy holds
her loosely in his arms. Stiles helps Allison to walk around the coffee table
and sit in one of the armchairs on the other side. She clutches the armrests
tightly now instead of the kitchen island, and the tears don't look like
they'll be stopping anytime soon. "Do you know where everyone else is?" he asks
quietly, crouching down in front of her and resting a hand on her knee. He
sighs in disappointment when she shakes her head and formulates a plan in his
head before standing once more, hoping that it'll work. The first step is to
find Kira. Scott is out of the question, but he figures that if the two girls
are together, they'll be able to help each other cope with the blindness and
whatever is afflicting the young Kitsune. He asks Derek to try to listen for
her, and after waiting a second, he follows the man's instructions and heads
out into the back garden.
Kira is holding something small and made of rubber.
Its form is so misshapen that Stiles can't tell what it used to be. He doesn't
have to ask how it came to be in that state, though, because, in the next
second, a large flash of lightning shoots from her hands and gets absorbed into
the rubber. "Ah..." he breathes in realisation, guessing that because Kira is
still so new to her Kitsune powers, she must have feared losing control of
them.
He muses that control seems to be a major theme in most of their fears.
Unfortunately for Allison, leaving Kira there, away from all of the electronics
in the house, feels like the best course of action, but he doesn't want to
leave her by herself. Turning to Derek, he asks the man to stay with her for a
minute while he searches for the last few members of the pack.
A quick circuit of the ground floor reveals that no one else is there, so
Stiles goes upstairs to the second and sticks his head in every room in the
hall. He finds Cora sat alone on her bed, looking bored and probably hiding
because she doesn't want to deal with the madness going on downstairs. Stiles
sympathises. He leaves her to it and carries on and finds Lydia and Jackson
together in their room. Lydia is scratching at her arms, her manicured nails
leaving great red welts in their wake, and Jackson is standing in front of the
vanity mirror, examining his reflection with a frown.
"Alright, what's wrong with you two?" Stiles asks, pushing the door closed.
Lydia doesn't acknowledge the question, but Jackson turns away from the mirror
to glare at him fiercely.
"I don't know what's happening with her—something to do with her banshee powers
going haywire or something, probably. As for me," Jackson says harshly as he
returns to studying his reflection, "I look fucking ugly! Whatever shit you've
brought into this house is fucking up my good looks, so fix it fast or I'll
kill you!" His tone makes it clear that he's not kidding.
Shuddering involuntarily, Stiles ignores Jackson's threat and edges around the
agitated beta to approach Lydia, who stands by the open window, gazing out of
it distractedly while her nails continue mutilating the pale skin of her arms.
He takes hold of her hands and keeps them still so that she can't so any more
damage to herself and grows more worried for her when she still doesn't react.
Her forehead is wrinkled in a deep frown, her elegant eyebrows drawn together
in the middle, and her mouth is set in a thin line that quivers every couple of
seconds like she's trying to keep something inside. Stiles can't try to
understand what she's going through with his magic like he's tempted to, lest
he set the whole house on fire. He spares a brief thought that maybe his
volatile fire powers are part of the curse affecting Derek—the man does still
fear it deeply, after all, understandably so—but it's quickly pushed from his
mind when Lydia suddenly begins fighting his grip, trying desperately to get
her hands free. He doesn't let her because he knows she'll just try to hurt
herself again.
"Lydia!" he exclaims, getting desperate when she still doesn't seem to hear
him.
Inside of her head, Lydia feels trapped. She doesn't know what's going on
around her or even where she is. She's too distracted by the unfamiliar voices
that are shouting at her, steadily getting louder and louder until she can't
pick out the words and it turns into one long, deafening sound that blocks out
everything else. There are screams thrown in there, too, and burning wood, that
much she can still tell, screams that raise all the hairs on her arms and make
her feel unparallelled terror.
It started out as nothing she hadn't experienced before, just the occasional
whisper, but it quickly got worse after Jackson left her side to investigate a
strange itching on his face.
"Jackson, can you stop looking at yourself in the mirror like a conceited
douche and get here and help me, please?!" Stiles calls when Lydia's constant
struggling becomes too much for him to handle alone. His tone brooks no
argument, so Jackson doesn't give one and hurries to take over.
Stiles sighs and shakes out his arms, giving his muscles a break. He sighs.
"Right...you keep her from hurting herself any more, and I'll go see if I can
stop this..." he says dejectedly as he runs a hand through his hair. He doubts
he'll be able to actually figure anything out, but he doesn't want to leave
Jackson without any hope. Even he doesn't deserve that cruelty.
Shutting the door behind himself, Stiles leans against it for a second and
thinks.
He can still hear panicked sounds echoing from all around the house, accented
by some banging and growling that he thinks is Scott trying to get free from
his temporary prison down in one of the training rooms. He feels so
overwhelmed, like he's adrift in an ocean without anything to tell him where on
the map he is. After allowing himself this moment of self-pity, he shrugs the
feeling off determinedly and goes back downstairs to check again on everyone
else. Danny isn't in the hallway anymore, trying to get Isaac out of the
closet. Instead, Stiles finds the Hawaiian boy crouched down in a corner of the
living room, his knees tucked up close to his chest and his arms held
protectively over his head. He shakes and whimpers quietly every couple of
seconds. Stiles doesn't know what to do to help the other boy, or even what's
wrong in the first place, so he continues on and goes to check on Derek and
Kira in the back garden. Kira doesn't seem to have made any improvements, but
it doesn't look like she's gotten worse at all either, so Stiles counts that as
a win.
Before either he or Derek can open their mouths to talk to each other, they're
startled by a piercing scream that comes through from one of the second storey
windows. They both turn around in shock, frozen in place as they wait for any
further noises. They get them.
More screams echo around the area, and Derek has to cover his ears because
they're so loud. He sees Stiles race back inside the house, probably to find
out what is causing Lydia to make them, and he makes to follow. The screams are
usually auguries of death, so he fears the worst as he takes the stairs two at
a time and shoulders open Lydia and Jackson's door. The beta has the redhead
pinned to the floor as she tries to get free, continuous screams pouring from
her wide-open mouth.
"What the hell...?" Stiles whispers, his heart rate picking up in panic.
He's about to gather all of the pack together as much as he can to try and keep
them safe, but in the next second, he feels something tear through him that
makes him double over in pain.
Lydia stops screaming.
Sucking in a harsh breath, Derek also feels it, some wound deep in his chest
that's fresh and raw and bleeding. He searches fervently through all the bonds
he has to his betas thread by thread, looking for the one that he thinks is now
severed. Jackson, Stiles and Lydia are obviously all fine—'fine' isn't really
the right word, but he can't think of a better one in that moment.
When he finds it, his breathing stops altogether as sorrow submerges him
completely, and after a few seconds spent waiting for the punchline, hoping
desperately and foolishly that this is all some big joke, he turns and walks
across the hall to Cora's room. The door is closed, and it creaks ominously as
he pushes it open and walks inside, tears springing to his eyes when he finds
his sister's body on the bed, unmoving. "God, no..." he chokes, holding a hand
over his mouth as the tears begin to fall. He can sense that Stiles is behind
him, also struck still with grief, but he can't take his eyes off of Cora's
lifeless form. He steps jerkily toward the bed and kneels next to her on the
mattress, reaching out a hand to touch her forehead but stopping right before
he actually touches skin. Disbelief and sadness war within him when he finally
gathers the courage to close that last inch of air, and he frowns when he finds
that she's already cold even though it must have only been a minute since her
death. He can't believe his last remaining family member is dead, his last
blood relative.
                                     * * *
All at once, throughout the house, everybody's afflictions stop, or at least
ease off a bit.
The voices invading Lydia's mind get quieter, not disappearing entirely but
fading enough so that she can actually think her own thoughts. She calms down
and makes Jackson release her before standing and brushing the dust from her
clothes. Out in the back garden, Kira regains tentative control of her powers,
though they still wait just beneath the surface, ready to come out again at the
slightest heightened emotion. She drops the malformed piece of rubber to the
grass and reenters the house.
Isaac hears nothing but silence in the hall closet, and when he lifts his head
he finds his dad is gone, nowhere to be found. He sighs in relief, examining
his body for the wounds he felt being inflicted and finding that they were all
part of the hallucination.
Danny is much the same, and they fall into each others arms for comfort. No one
in the pack but Isaac knows about Danny's secret, about what happened with his
uncle years ago.
Scott, still locked up down in the training room in the basement catacombs,
feels his wolf retreat back into his mind, giving him control once more.
There's nothing he can do to escape his bonds, though, so he calls for help and
sighs in relief when Kira comes down to set him free. The others are still
under their specific curses: Erica is still human and feels weak; Boyd is
silent; Jackson can't look at himself in any reflective surface without seeing
a grotesque version of himself looking back; and Allison is still blind, though
the pain in her eyes is gone
All of them can feel it, even the humans, the new hole in their chests.
It's like it was when Derek killed Peter all those months before, only worse
because they actually liked and cared about Cora. All of the betas can hear
Derek weeping quietly upstairs, the gasping breaths and pleas for his sister to
come back accented by the rabbit-fast racing of Stiles' heartbeat. No one feels
brave enough to go upstairs and actually lay their eyes on their packmate's
body, to interrupt Derek in such a private and heartbreaking moment. Scott and
Kira take up places sitting on the armrests of Allison's chair, holding her
hands in their own to give her any shred of support they can. Jackson sneaks
past Cora's open bedroom door and down the stairs, right past the others in the
living room and on into the kitchen, not wanting to deal with any of what he's
feeling. Lydia remains upstairs, trying to keep her head even though the
feeling of death and despair is drowning her, and she pulls Stiles back out of
Cora's room and pulls the door shut softly, knowing that Derek will be too
distracted to overhear the conclusions she's come to.
The walls keep flashing back and forth between normal and charred black, and
she thinks she knows exactly why all of this is happening or at least that she
has an idea. She tries explaining it to Stiles in between getting distracted by
her changing surroundings.
"It's your position as the alpha's mate," she says shakily, dragging Stiles
into one of the bathrooms so that she can make a start at cleaning up the
damage she's done to her arms. The small cuts sting.
"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, closing the toilet seat and sitting down atop
it.
Lydia hisses as she dabs antiseptic onto the welts her long nails left behind.
"I know you tried to keep yourself from us this morning, thinking that it would
save us from being affected by whatever Elizabeth was planning, but I know for
sure now that that wouldn't have worked. These curses...their potency depends
on what object their caster uses, whether it was valuable or meaningful to the
victim. The more sentimental the object, the more the curse will do. As the
alpha's mate, you have a bond to all of us and, in a sense, you belong to all
of us. You're precious to us, so the curses still worked."
Mulling over Lydia's words, Stiles quickly joins her in thinking that this is
the case. It's difficult to process because his chest aches, not just because
of his severed bond to Cora but because of his mating bond to Derek. He feels
everything the alpha feels, though slightly muted, all of his grief and loss
and overwhelming pain. It makes it hard to concentrate.
What Lydia is saying resonates with something deep down inside that he's hidden
carefully, left over from when he was possessed by the Nogitsune: his fear of
the pack getting hurt again because of him. That must be the fear that the
curse latched on to for him this time.
She's dead, he thinks darkly. Elizabeth is dead.
"I also have a theory on why Derek hasn't been affected so far, at least not
directly," Lydia continues, taking a long fabric dressing strip and cutting it
to the right length before sticking it on her arm. "This could very well be
wrong, so don't hold me to it: I noticed before that, after I assume you and
Derek had sex a couple of days ago, your mating bite was reopened and your bond
renewed. This probably protected Derek to some degree, but the curse still had
work to do. Since it couldn't go straight after and change anything about him,
it found one of his fears that involved someone else, his sister, his last
blood relative, and ran a mile with it. I read up more extensively on this
curse after the whole baldness thing, and I haven't heard or read of it doing
something like that before, actually outright killing someone. It's probably
because of the mix of yours and Elizabeth's magic. You're strong by birth, and
now, because she has the Nemeton's power, Elizabeth is probably just as strong,
if not stronger. That combination must be allowing the curse to do things it
never has before." She turns off the tap after securing the last dressing strip
in place.
Now that she's all cleaned up, Lydia washes and dries her hands before turning
to face Stiles while still holding the towel. "You should go tell Derek that
there might still be hope for Cora."
"There is?" Stiles asks hopefully.
"Yes. While I'm not one-hundred percent sure—the books weren't really all that
clear—I think that when Elizabeth dies, all of the curses she's cast should die
with her," Lydia explains, biting her lip as she drapes the towel across the
radiator. She pats Stiles on the shoulder before leaving the room, muttering
under her breath. "That means that these fucking voices in my head can shut up,
too..."
Because Lydia hardly ever leads him wrong, Stiles decides to trust what the
girl has told him without question. He stands and walks back across the hall to
Cora's bedroom and enters slowly. Derek is still on the bed where Stiles left
him, only now he cradles his sister's head in his lap.
"Der?" Stiles calls, easing on to the other side of the mattress and reaching
out to touch his mate's wet cheek. Derek's vacant eyes close at the contact,
and he takes a shuddering breath before opening them again and looking over at
Stiles instead. "I know you're hurting right now—believe me, I do—but I need
you to pull yourself together for me. There might still be a way to get Cora
back." He repeats all of what Lydia told him in the bathroom, and determination
appears in Derek's eyes by the end.
"I'm gonna kill her," Derek seethes. "I'm gonna rip her head right off!"
Leaving Cora where she is on the bed is difficult, but eventually he manages to
get himself to slide out from under her and walk out of the room on Stiles'
heels. He finds the rest of the pack gathered downstairs, looking tired and
defeated but otherwise OK. With Boyd's help, Erica, now awake, shifts over on
the sofa to make room for him and Stiles to take their seats, and her legs come
to lay across their laps after they're situated. "I trust all of you heard
Stiles and Lydia's theory?" Derek asks after clearing his throat. He nods and
carries on leading the discussion when everybody else in the room hums their
assent. "Well...we really need to brainstorm a way to defeat Elizabeth sooner
rather than later. I don't want this to be another case of us waiting around to
be attacked. We need to bring the fight to her. Hopefully, she won't be
expecting that and we can catch her off-guard. So, does anybody have any
suggestions?" Silence reigns for several seconds as they all rack their brains
until Danny speaks up from where's he's squished next to Isaac in one of the
armchairs.
"Why don't we just get a shotgun or something from Allison's dad and blow her
head off? I bet you she won't be expecting that," he suggests, looking around
at everybody's faces and feeling proud of himself when the idea isn't
immediately dismissed.
Stiles contemplates this plan with an open mind. "If worse comes to worst, I
guess we can make that our Plan B," he accepts, nodding. He rests a hand on
Derek's thigh when another wave of sadness washes through him from their mating
bond. He hopes the contact will ameliorate some of what the man is feeling so
that he can concentrate better on their current brainstorming.
It works. Derek grips Stiles' hand in his own and keeps them there on his leg.
"Clearly not all of us can go," Stiles points out, glancing sideways at Erica
and Allison. "I don't mean this to sound offencive, but you two would just be
liabilities that would distract the rest of us." He himself probably won't be
much use either, what with his powers still raging just beneath the surface of
his control, but at the very least he'll be able to move about freely without
tripping over and breaking his own neck or something. Wisely, he chooses not to
voice that part out loud, lest someone refute him and bring up his clumsiness.
"Are we doing this today?" Scott asks, raising the hand that's not still
clutching Allison's. "Because isn't it dangerous to go after Elizabeth when her
curses could still come on full force again at any moment?"
"Yeah, why did they ease off? Don't get me wrong; I'm very happy they did
because, damn, was that awful, but it seems strange, doesn't it?" Danny
expands, leaning a little closer to Isaac in an effort to stop any more
memories of his uncle from assaulting his mind. He never wants to go back to
that place ever again, back to feeling weak and helpless and dirty.
It took him years of therapy to start getting over it.
Stiles shakes his head. "I have no idea..." he mumbles thoughtfully, frowning.
Now that he focuses on it more closely, he's able to tell that the darkness
tainting his magic is expanding, getting a little bigger with each passing
minute. He doesn't inform the others of this, not wanting to cause them any
worry before he can figure out whether it means anything or not. If he had to
guess, off the top of his head he would say that the curses had a quota of
sorts for pain, Cora's death fulfilled said quota, and now that it has what it
wants, it's beginning to move on to the next stage. The thought of what that
stage could be terrifies him, but he keeps that emotion hidden away as best he
can, especially from Derek. His mate is dealing with enough. He wishes that he
hadn't returned the book Elizabeth lent to him when he was seeking help to deal
with Isaac's invisibility, because that's probably the place from which she got
the idea for the curses in the first place. The counter-spell was in there,
too, he remembers, but he can't recall even one ingredient. He feels foolish
now for not writing them down.
Looking around the room, Derek counts how many people he thinks will be alright
to face off against Elizabeth: Danny, Isaac, Scott, Kira, Stiles, Jackson,
Lydia, Boyd, and himself.
"Alright," Kira says as she stands and reluctantly lets go of Allison's hand,
"I'm gonna go see Mr. Argent and get those guns... Anyone wanna come with?" She
swings her coat around her shoulders and weaves her arms into the sleeves
before zipping it up and putting her phone in one of the pockets for
safekeeping. She's glad when Lydia volunteers, and a minute later, after Derek
tells them again to be careful, they leave the house, get into the redhead's
car and speed off.
While they wait for the girls to return, all of the betas except Erica head
down into the basement to get in some last minute training, which also serves
as a warmup that they hope will help them come out of the impending battle with
their lives. The odds aren't good, but they have to try.
Better to go after Elizabeth first, hard and fast, than be caught unaware
again.
Soon enough, Kira and Lydia return with Chris Argent and a bag of heavy-duty
firearms and ammo. The ex-hunter and his daughter have a tender moment before
he heads down into one the training rooms for target practice, in which he
promises her that he'll do everything he can to her her eyesight back. After
kissing Allison once on her forehead, he follows the others downstairs.
For their parts, Stiles and Derek have taken another of the training rooms
exclusively for themselves. Derek feels his adrenaline pumping already as he
channels all of the emotions he feels about Cora and turns them into anger,
which he knows will aid him when he's fighting Elizabeth. He doesn't use what
fleeting time they have left to make any preparations himself, choosing instead
to assist Stiles as the boy tries to get a handle on his magic again. It's not
a very successful venture, but he spouts off endless encouragements anyway when
he sees that his mate is losing his determination.
"Do you think we should call Parrish?" Stiles asks breathlessly when they take
a break.
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Stiles," Derek replies, shaking his head.
He hands the boy a bottle of cool water and watches as it quickly disappears
down his pale, slender throat. Leaning back against the wall and crossing his
arms over his broad chest, he feels a hint of pride when Stiles continues
trying to wrangle his powers in without his having to tell him to keep going.
"I know he said that he would do whatever he could to help us if we asked, but
I just don't feel comfortable involving him in all of this. It's too dangerous,
especially for someone like him, who has absolutely no experience with the
supernatural world. He'd just end up getting himself killed, and that would be
another life lost because of us, more blood on our hands." Speaking of blood,
he sniffs the air curiously when he gets a whiff of old copper. Following the
trail, he stops in the middle of the room and stares down at the floor, at the
faint ring of discolouration he can see on the concrete. The blood isn't from a
human, that much he can tell, but he worries about where it came from
regardless.
He notices that Stiles has paused in his efforts and tears his eyes away from
the floor to peer up at the guilty-looking teen with a raised eyebrow.
"Something you want to tell me?" he asks.
"Umm...no?" Stiles replies, shuffling from foot to foot. He gets increasingly
uncomfortable when Derek just keeps staring at him expectantly. "Ugh, fine! It
was that spell I found yesterday that I showed Lydia, the one that was supposed
to help us stop Elizabeth. I'm not gonna go into the details because...gross,
but let's just say that because of what she did to my powers afterward, it may
as well have not worked.
"So, just leave it alone, OK?"
Derek holds his palms up placatingly and lets the subject drop. He plans to get
his hands on that book and read up on what Stiles did after all of this is
over, if they survive. It gives him more incentive to do just that. "You gonna
be OK down here by yourself for a bit?" Derek enquires, already walking over to
the door that leads back out into the dimly lit hallway. "I want to check on
how everyone else is coming along." When Stiles waves him off, he goes out into
the hall and over to the room in which Chris is still showing Lydia and Kira
how to properly use a variety of guns. Their progress is loud.
On his own now, Stiles turns back to one of the bare walls and realises
something. The room he's in now is the same one where he first learned to
control his fire powers with Derek and Lydia. The scorch mark from where he hit
the paper target is just barely visible.
It feels like things are coming full circle now, and after shaking out his
hands in an effort to relax them, he focuses his mind back on the magic inside
of his chest, observing the darkness's progress. He's dismayed to find that the
light is fading, being absorbed into the dark, making it bigger. The reason why
isn't clear, but when he latches on to what little magic he has left that's
untainted, it still reacts violently.
Fire appears unexpectedly in his palm, so he makes a fist to put it out.
It's risky, but if there's no other solution, he can gamble on his powers and
hope that they cooperate enough for him to use them against Elizabeth. Decision
made, he leaves the room as well and goes to find where Derek has gotten to. He
passes room after room down in the catacombs, his curiosity getting the better
of him and making him poke his head inside each one to look at how everyone
else is doing, following in Derek's footsteps, no doubt. His eyebrows shoot up
to his hairline when he sees Lydia and Kira handling what look like twelve-
gauge shotguns with surprising ease—Chris is standing behind them with a
pleased smile on his lips—and he quickly leaves the room again before either of
them can fire off another shell. A couple of rooms over, the betas are sparring
with each other, their claws and fangs out as they bounce off of the walls
gracefully. Isaac is the fastest, his body sometimes nothing but a blur as he
keeps sneaking up and grabbing Jackson around the waist from behind before the
pugnacious beta can do anything to stop him. Jackson's outraged expression is
hilarious.
Derek is found in the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water with a half-eaten
sandwich in his other hand. Once the alpha has finished with it, Stiles takes
the empty glass and refills it for himself.
"You OK?" Derek asks when he notices his mate keeps fiddling with the hem of
his flannel overshirt. He steps closer until they brush up against each other,
their fingers interlocking of their own accord. Stiles' grip would be bruising
if he wasn't a werewolf, and that gives him his answer.
"Just worried, y'know?" Stiles replies quietly.
Humming in understanding, Derek rubs his thumb repeatedly across the back of
Stiles' hand, hoping that the action will be soothing. Stiles' body sags a
little bit, losing some of its tension. He definitely gets why the boy is so
nervous. Once they've prepared as much as they can, they have no real idea of
what to expect when they show up on Elizabeth's doorstep. He feels good about
making the first move this time, though, and his mind veers off into dangerous
territory before he can stop it, wondering whether Sheriff Stilinski could have
been saved if they hadn't waited for Landon to come to them. The thought is
swiftly shaken away.
"I'm sure we'll be fine," he states confidently, releasing Stiles' hand. He
wraps his arm around the boy's shoulders, pulls him closer into a tight embrace
and breathes him in to reassure himself.
                                     * * *
Two hours later, when it's late afternoon and the sky is beginning to turn from
blue to orange, everybody who is going to take on Elizabeth gathers in the
kitchen. Chris has just returned from taking Erica and Allison over to his
house in hopes of keeping them out of the way of danger. Erica refused to go to
her own home because she didn't want her parents to see her in such a feeble
state again. The pack seeing her like that was bad enough.
It would make her parents worry and hover just like they used to before Derek
gave her the bite. It would mean more tests and hospital visits and questions
that she wouldn't know how to answer about why she relapsed now after being
perfectly healthy for over a year.
She keeps Allison company instead.
"You guys all ready?" Derek asks from where he stands in front of the back
door. Stiles isn't in the group because he said he wanted to look something up
quickly before leaving. He'll catch up with them later. Once Derek sees
everybody nod, he opens the door and steps outside, leading the way across the
grass and past the tree line. They're not taking any cars because they don't
want Elizabeth to potentially hear their approach before they're ready. An
unusual abundance of cars parked in her street could tip her off anyway,
especially if she knows which vehicles they all drive like Derek suspects she
does. No one speaks as they make their way through the preserve, taking the
quickest route from Derek and Stiles' home to the Alexander household. The
ground slopes dramatically, up and down and up and down, making it slow going.
The sound of water from a close-by stream reaches the betas' ears, sounding
strangely normal in light of what they're about to do. It follows them.
Halfway, Derek brings them to a stop so that he can go over their battle
strategies one last time.
First, they'll try to lure Elizabeth out of her house and away from all of her
neighbours so that no one sees anything they shouldn't. If that doesn't work,
then Derek will go into the house and get her. Once Elizabeth is through the
trees and they're all hidden from prying eyes, they'll attack from two sides.
Derek, Jackson, Boyd, Scott and Kira make up the first, with the alpha taking
point, and Chris will lead the second, made up of Lydia, Isaac, Danny and, when
he gets there, Stiles.
Because Lydia doesn't have any active powers that will be useful in a fight and
Kira's powers are still temperamental, they'll stay a short distance away from
any combat with Chris and attack with bullets.
It'll be a case of ten on three, assuming that Charlie and Elizabeth's
mysterious accomplice also take part. With those numbers and the element of
surprise, Derek hopes their plan will be enough for them to come out of the
fight victorious. Unfortunately, when he turns to lead the others the rest of
the way, he finds that Elizabeth is already there in their path, smirking at
all of them.
                                     * * *
Back at the house, Stiles is getting frustrated.
Slamming shut the book in which he'd been looking for a last-minute solution to
his magic's problems, he pushes back from the table he's sitting at and gets to
his feet with a defeated sigh. He's just finished going through all of the
tomes Deaton gave him at the start of the summer and ended up with no results
or help whatsoever. All he's done is waste his own time, leaving the rest of
the pack and Chris to deal with Elizabeth without him. Realising his mistake,
he hurries back down to the ground floor and heads for the back door.
Before his hand can touch the handle, though, he feels a great pain in his
chest. He cries out, collapsing and shaking and breathing heavily as he tries
to push through it to no avail. It just gets worse. The darkness that taints
his magic is tearing itself from him, and his head spins when it's finally
freed.
All of a sudden he feels weak. The magic he has still in his body is wholly his
own, all white without a trace of black, but there's so little of it there that
there may as well be none.
Rolling onto his stomach, he freezes when he senses another presence in the
room.
Cautiously, after managing to get his legs under him so that he's kneeling, he
looks to his right and finds to his horror a copy of himself. Its body is
attenuated, with large bags under its eyes and sunken cheeks. On its thin lips
is a snide smile, and when he realises what's just happened, Stiles pushes to
his feet and backs away from his double, from the dark half of himself that so
resembles how he looked while under the Nogitsune's influence. His mind flashes
back to the first couple of visions he had after returning home from New York,
where he'd seen this exact duplicate by the Nemeton and in his own vision-
darkened living room. Ever since he found out what Elizabeth's curses do, he's
been hoping that he never got afflicted with one himself. If he did, he was
certain that what he saw in his visions would come to pass, and this is proof
of that. Foolishly, he didn't realise that the darkness that was slowly
stealing his magic was his own curse building itself up to come out. When it
speaks, its voice sounds just as evil and mocking as he remembers.
"Come on now, Stiles, you must've known this was coming," it says, still
smiling as it pushes away from where it leans against the wall. "I don't know
why you look so shocked. I did warn you, after all." It looks down at itself
and examines the clothes on its emaciated body, pulling its shirt up and poking
gleefully at the long still-bleeding wound that runs horizontally across its
stomach.
Stiles squirms under his darker half's gaze when it gets tired of looking at
its own body and settles its eyes once more on him. He thinks of trying to run
as he continues to shake in fear, but he knows that he'd be caught right away.
If everything his double said in his visions is true now, then he supposes that
explains why he feels so vulnerable and scared and why he has so little power
left. His darker half took it all. He wishes for Derek to appear, to burst in
through the back door and save him, but it's pointless.
He'll have to deal with this alone.
"I have to thank you, you know," the double says, drawing Stiles' attention
again. "If you hadn't done that spell, Elizabeth wouldn't have been able to get
a hold of your powers and I wouldn't be here." It steps closer until they're
face-to-face, noses almost touching. "Now, let's have some fun."
***** Shapeshifter *****
The next thing Stiles knows, he's being pulled along by his shirt and flung to
the floor with such force that it knocks all the air from his lungs. He slides
along the hardwood and cries out in pain when his back connects with the wall
with a loud thump and knocks the air from his lungs. Frantically, he tries to
scramble back to his feet so that he can run away and actually prepare himself
for the impending fight—he'll need every advantage he can get—but his darker
half doesn't allow him that mercy.
It advances swiftly on him and kicks him right in his stomach, winding him even
more. "C'mon, you can do better than that!" it taunts, aiming another kick,
this time at Stiles' side.
Stiles feels tears forming in his eyes as he tries again to get away. He finds
success now and manages to get back to his feet without being attacked again,
but it's not by luck. His double is just standing there, watching him eerily,
probably waiting for him to make the next move. He doesn't want to make it,
though, so he backs away toward the kitchen counter, finding it incredibly
difficult to overcome the immense terror he feels because his double took all
of his confidence and most of his guile. The meagre courage he'd managed to
gather before has all but vanished and his new persona is strictly milquetoast.
Having cool steel in his hand sounds like a good idea because he doesn't trust
the powers he has left, so he keeps his eyes locked with his other half as his
back hits the edge of the counter and he fumbles around behind himself, looking
for the knife holder. He smiles triumphantly when he finds it, knocking it over
in the process, and pulls one of the knives from its home. It's long, sharp and
deadly, just what he needs. His enemy smirks right back him, not looking fazed
at all, and Stiles knows why when it holds up a hand and sends the knife flying
away from him. It gets embedded in the wall.
"Honestly, Stiles, aren't we better than that? Maybe use your brain for once!"
it sneers.
Trying desperately to come up with his next move, Stiles flicks his eyes over
to the back door. At the very least, if he moves the fight out there it will
prevent any more damage being done to his and Derek's home. His double is
apparently thinking the same thing, which, duh—they are the same person,
technically speaking.
"Don't even think about it," it warns, batting its eyelashes and stepping
forward quickly to block Stiles' path. "We're gonna do this here. It'll be more
fun, I promise." Without waiting for Stiles to say anything else, it grabs hold
of his arm and flings him again, this time through to the living room. It
follows sedately, not at all worried about having to defend itself from any
retaliation.
Stiles goes tumbling over the back of an armchair and lands on the coffee
table. It splinters up the middle and he falls through it, his knees bent over
the side because its main frame somehow remains intact. When his head stops
spinning, he tries to extricate himself from the wreckage and stumbles, tipping
over sideways and catching himself on the sofa cushions. Finally righting
himself, he sees that his double isn't paying him any mind. Instead, it holds a
hand up in front of its sunken face, watching with glee as fire appears.
"You really don't use these powers enough, you know," it says, meeting Stiles'
eyes again. "I'll show you how useful they can be." It tosses the fireball
right at the human boy, cackling when he yells and just manages to duck out of
the way. "What's the matter? Not a fan?"
Frantically, Stiles runs through the foyer and into the dining room on the
other side, putting the large table in between himself and his enemy.
His own magic still feels pitiful, but he latches on to it anyway and tries to
use it. He feels his eyes glow their supernatural golden colour as his palms
heat up, and he attempts to do the same thing his dark half just did to him,
throwing fire at it. Of course, it doesn't hit its target and goes sailing back
through to the living room, where it catches on the back of the sofa, setting
it ablaze. While his double is distracted by the flames, he edges to his right,
toward the hall, and makes a break for it at the last minute, tearing open the
door that leads down into the basement and almost stumbling on the stairs. He
hears another set of footsteps behind him but doesn't slow his gait, and when
he reaches the gym he keeps on going, through to the catacombs and into the
hallway that leads off into the pack's several training rooms. His plan is to
get inside the one containing their gun locker and break it open if he can. A
single well-aimed bullet should take care of his problem—he hopes—but before he
can wrap his hand around the lock and try to yank it off by force or melt it
with his fire, fingers tangle in his head and pull him back roughly.
"Cunning plan there, Stiles... Cunning indeed," the double says, letting go of
Stiles' hair after it has put itself between the boy and the gun locker. It
keeps its hand raised and brings forth a burst of magic, sending Stiles flying
backward and pinning him to the wall opposite. "You're kinda pathetic, you
know. I mean, we're basically the same person and I'm still kicking your ass.
"I know I have more power than you do right now, but come on! We're supposed to
think the same, but it's like you're not even trying. You're making this too
easy for me that it's actually pretty boring." With another wave of his hand,
he releases Stiles from his magical bonds and smiles smugly.
"OK, I like a laugh, so I'm gonna give you a fair shot. Think of something and
come at me with it!"
Getting sick of all the taunting, Stiles wracks his brain and comes up with all
the spells he read in the hours of research Deaton and Holly have forced upon
him, along with anything else he can remember from wherever. Not much of it has
stuck, apparently, but there are a couple of things that stand out to him as
viable options. The first thing he tries comes from what Derek told him once.
It's what Landon did to get the upper hand when Derek tried to get revenge on
him for killing Jeremy, channelling your magic into physical strength. He holds
his hands up to his chest and lets it flow back through his whole body, into
all of his muscles.
When he's done, he looks up to see that his double is just finishing doing the
same thing, which is honestly disappointing but, in hindsight, unsurprising.
"Alrighty, let's keep things physical for the time being, 'K?" it grins before
dashing forward with a fist raised. Stiles moves out of the way at the last
second and it punches clear through the brick wall behind him. Cracks spread
out from the new hole it just made, which threaten to crumble the whole thing
and destroy the house's foundations, making it collapse in on itself. Pulling
its fist out, it examines its bloodied knuckles before going after Stiles
again.
Stiles moves his body in a complicated dance to avoid each swing.
He feels as though he's in an anime. He uses everything he's learned in recent
months, all the stupidly acrobatic moves that Derek, Isaac and Scott have
taught him whenever he's joined in on their weekly training sessions, to attack
and defend. Another perk of making their bodies and muscles stronger like
they've both done is that they feel every blow less, can take more. They're far
from indestructible, but it's about as close as they can probably ever get.
They push off walls fast and meet each other in a tangle of fists and feet
before separating again to regroup. Stiles comes away from the latest tangle
with a nasty set of teeth marks on his left arm. The skin is broken, torn open,
and it bleeds slowly until blood drips from the tips of his fingers onto the
concrete floor. Sweat soaks through his clothes, sticking his shirt to his back
and his hair to his forehead, and he has to wipe away what little he can every
time he gets a second to breathe, otherwise it'll run down into his eyes and
blind him temporarily, making him more susceptible to attacks.
Eventually, he gets caught out by just that. He doesn't move fast enough and,
while he's distracted, his double manages to land a hard punch in his stomach,
uppercutting him and sending him flying up through the ceiling and the earth
beyond. He lands in a pile of rubble and dirt on the preserve floor.
His forearm burns.
The double bends its knees and jumps up through the hole Stiles left behind,
landing gracefully on its feet right next to the groaning boy. It tips him over
onto his side with a foot as it wipes off the dust that sweat makes stick to
its face. "Well...this has been great, Stiles, but I'm afraid you're starting
to bore me. I hoped you'd be better, honestly. I think it's time for this fight
to end," it says, sounding strangely sad. It brings up its foot, preparing to
stamp down on Stiles' head and crush the life out of him.
It knows it's bringing about the end of itself, too, but it doesn't care.
Before it can actually make the move, though, a great bang sounds throughout
the area and sharp pain blossoms across its right shoulder. It stumbles
backward and looks up in shock, its top lip curling back in a snarl when it
sees Jordan Parrish standing a few feet in front of the back door, gun raised.
"Ugh, how lovely of you to interrupt me," it seethes, touching a hand to the
bullet wound in its shoulder and hissing.
Parrish is completely dumbfounded. He guesses that the boy still lying on the
ground and groaning is the real Stiles, but he doesn't know what to make of
whoever the second boy is.
Still, because they were about to crush Stiles' head—at least that's what it
looked like to him—when they walk a short distance away and begin trying to dig
the bullet out of their shoulder, he steps cautiously closer to Stiles, keeping
an eye on the darker and skinnier version the entire time in case he comes back
for another go unexpectedly. "Stiles!" he whispers hoarsely, crouching down
next to the boy and reaching out to touch him with the hand not still tightly
gripping his gun. He helps Stiles to sit up and frowns when he holds his left
arm to his chest, his face scrunched up in pain. "Tell me what's wrong!"
"I think my arm is broken," Stiles replies, struggling to his feet with
Parrish's help.
"Serves you right!" the double yells as it continues to dig around in its own
shoulder. Another few seconds of searching later, it finally locates the small
piece of metal and yanks it out with a splattering of blood, tossing it to the
ground with disdain. Its breathing is heavy. "Now, where were we?"
The next thing Stiles knows, in a flash his darker half is leaping forward and
tackling Parrish to the ground. He wasn't anticipating that; he thought it
would go for him to finish him off like it was trying to do before the deputy
appeared on the scene, and he watches in shock and pain as the two go rolling.
Its enhanced strength seems to have gone, probably because its concentration
was broken when Parrish shot it, so they're on a relatively level playing
field. Stiles can't do much to help the deputy because of his arm, not to
mention his dizzy head, but after looking around for a weapon he can wield with
one hand, a broken-off branch or something, his eyes catch on Parrish's gun,
dropped on accident when his double knocked the man off of his feet. He
scurries over to the regulation firearm, just managing to snatch it up before
the brawling pair can roll over it again. It's difficult to get his grip right
when he only has one useable hand, but eventually he manages to get his index
finger on the trigger, line up the sights, and aim the barrel directly at
Parrish and his double. After taking a deep breath and waiting for the right
moment, he pulls the trigger.
The kickback sends new waves of pain down his broken arm, making him drop the
gun again, but he ignores it and smiles in triumph when he sees that his shot
landed. His double has a brand new bullet hole right in the centre of its lower
back, in its spine. It writhes and screams out its agony on the ground when
Parrish is able to push it off of himself, and Stiles rushes over to help the
man up.
After Parrish is back on his feet, Stiles bends down and picks the gun up off
of the ground and checks that it's still working properly. When he sees that it
is, he closes the distance between him and his double.
It makes for a pitiful sight, really.
He thinks that the second bullet must have damaged its spine because its legs
don't move on their own. Its wails have quietened now and it breathes heavily
as it turns itself over onto its back and stares up at him with its face
twisted up in contempt, making it look even uglier. Stiles can't believe he was
actually scared of this snivelling version of himself, that he spent so many
months scared of turning into it for real. He's so much better than that. His
whole body aches, his arm mainly, and he has a cut on his forehead that he
doesn't remember getting that bleeds continuously into his left eye, but he
doesn't care about any of that at all. He's too buoyed up by his own pride that
he came out victorious.
"What're you gonna do to me now, Stiles?" the thing sneers, eyes narrowed.
"Kill me? Run off to your stupid little mate and save him from getting
slaughtered by that witch bitch? How do you know you're not already too late? I
can feel him, too, y'know, and I know he's in danger."
It draws out the last word for dramatic effect.
"Go to hell," Stiles replies calmly as he raises the gun and shoots his double
right between the eyes. It falls backward, lying flat on the ground, lifeless,
before beginning to disappear. It fades into dust like it had in his second
vision and leaves behind something glowing and white that hovers in the air for
a couple of seconds before shooting through him. It settles in his chest and
reunites with the magic Elizabeth didn't manage to taint.
It feels good to be whole and in complete control again.
Taking his gun back from Stiles, Parrish re-holsters it and brushes as much
dirt off of his uniform as he can. He notices that he has a bite mark on his
arm, a twin of the one on Stiles'. "Alright, what the hell is going on?" he
asks as he tears a piece of fabric off from his sleeve and wraps it around the
shallow wound to stop the bleeding. "I came over here to give you guys an
update on what's going on with the investigation into Marie Adler's murder, and
hear yelling coming from inside. So I open the door and have to put out your
entire living room because it's completely up in flames, and then there's this
great crash from out here and I see you lying next to a huge hole in the ground
with someone else that looks like you. What was that thing?" He stops himself
from asking anything more when he sees that Stiles is wincing and holding his
broken arm tighter to his chest. He guesses that, now that the adrenaline of
battle has worn off, the boy is feeling the pain of the break more deeply.
"Never mind. It can wait. Let's get you patched up, OK?" He goes to wrap a
comforting arm around Stiles' shoulders, but he's shrugged off.
"No!" Stiles exclaims, not caring at all about his own wellbeing. He grits his
teeth as he repositions his arm into a slightly more comfortable position and
begins walking toward the trees. "I have to get to the others!"
Exasperated, Parrish hesitates before making a quick dash back inside the house
to find the first piece of fabric he can find, an emerald green tablecloth. As
he hurries to catch up to Stiles, he holds it between his teeth and tears it up
into a series of strips. "At least let me put your arm in a sling, for God's
sake!" he implores, making Stiles stop and stay still while he uses what little
medical knowledge he remembers from his days at the academy to work the ripped-
up tablecloth around the boy's body, fitting his broken arm snugly inside of it
before tying it off. Another strip is tried around his head, which helps to
stop the cut on the left side of his forehead from bleeding into his eyes any
more.
"OK, now I'm going," Stiles announces as he sets off walking again. He must
admit that the sling does make things a little easier for him because he
doesn't have to actively think about keeping his arm in position anymore.
Still, he doesn't say anything. He's too caught up trying to find his bond to
Derek.
When he finds it, his eyes widen and his heart rate picks up in panic.
He walks faster.
                                     * * *
"Well, Derek? Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand
there, gaping at me like an imbecile?" Elizabeth asks snidely, hopping down
from the fallen tree on which she stands. She grins when all of the betas
gathered behind the man growl at her threateningly. She waves at them as if
she's greeting a bunch of young nieces and nephews. "Aww, puppies... So cute!"
"What are you doing out here?" Derek counters, ignoring Elizabeth's question.
He rearranges his face into a neutral expression, trying to come off like he's
not scared of her, while at the same time letting a quiet rumble build in his
chest to calm his betas down a little. Their growling cuts off after a couple
of seconds, though he does hear what he thinks is Chris cocking one of his
guns, no doubt getting ready to fire at a moment's notice. It's a smart move,
he thinks. "If you keep lurking around the preserve like this, people are going
to think you're up to no good. You wouldn't want that, right?"
Elizabeth tips her head back with a laugh. "Oh, Derek! And here I thought your
mate was the funny one!" she chuckles, clasping her hands casually behind her
back.
As inconspicuously as he can manage, Derek glances around the immediate area
for any signs of Charlie or Elizabeth's still-unidentified accomplice. He gets
a little nervous when he doesn't see hide nor hair of either of them, knowing
that just because they don't appear to be there doesn't mean that's actually
the case. Most of his attention is always kept on Elizabeth in case she
suddenly attacks, and he wonders what is taking Stiles so long to catch up. His
pack, Chris, and himself have been standing in the same spot with Elizabeth for
several minutes, so unless something has happened, the boy should have appeared
by now. He ponders whether that is where Charlie and the mysterious woman are,
keeping Stiles at bay. Perhaps it's just because his mind is so focused on
other, more pressing things—like the grinning woman in front of him—but he
can't quite get a grasp on his mating bond to Stiles to figure out for sure
whether the teen is OK. This worries him. "You still haven't answered my
question," he points out once Elizabeth has resumed her creepy staring.
"I was coming to see you, silly! I wanted to check up on how things had
progressed with the curse I placed inside Stiles, but I guess I already have my
answer, hmm?" Elizabeth answers, her bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated
pout that makes her look like a preschooler. "Quite disappointing, I must
say..."
Deciding not to mention Cora, Derek watches Elizabeth carefully as she walks
right up to him at a leisurely pace, clearly unconcerned about getting close to
someone who might literally claw her eyes out.
"There's no use pretending that you weren't just on your way to kill me,
Derek," she says, reaching out to touch his face and grinning again when Derek
leans back, away from her hand. "I overheard everything you and your friend,
Chris, just said, so I suppose all that planning you lot obviously did will be
going to waste. What a shame, huh? Never fear, though. I have complete
confidence that you can still give me a run for my money if you all try your
very best." She winks at all of the betas still gathered a short distance
behind their alpha.
"What exactly are we waiting for?" Jackson asks testily, ready for action.
Danny glares his best friend into silence.
"We're waiting for my daughter and my dear friend to show up, of course!"
Elizabeth answers, a note of exasperation in her voice. "You'll give them that,
won't you? It would be selfish to take all the fun for ourselves." As soon as
she finishes speaking, she hears footsteps behind her and turns to see the two
people in question walking toward her. "Ah, you're here! Wonderful!"
Charlie looks like she would rather be anywhere else. She walks with the same
jerky movements that Derek remembers from a couple of nights before, and he has
to avert his eyes when she looks up at him guiltily, like she's begging to be
saved or put out of her misery. He'll try to keep that in mind, but if she ends
up getting in the way of him killing Elizabeth, or if she fatally injures any
of his pack, then she'll unfortunately have to die, too, mind control spell or
not. Elizabeth's friend still wears their signature cloak, the pulled-up hood
keeping their face hidden in shadow and their identity a secret. He watches
warily as she and Elizabeth embrace like old friends, talking to each other
with such low voices that his preternatural hearing can't pick up on the words.
He knows that they can't be talking about anything good, though, and he decides
to attack while Elizabeth's back is turned in hopes of getting the upper hand.
He's just about to leap forward when her friend moves first.
The inconnu raises their arms to their head and pulls the hood back, finally
revealing who they are. It's Holly, her blonde hair slicked back into a neat
ponytail that's similar to Elizabeth's, only shorter. She keeps eye contact
with Derek while she undoes the two clasps at the neck of her cloak and drops
it to the floor, smirking.
"Hello, Derek," she greets.
"It's you?" said man breathes, his mouth agape. "You're the one who's been
helping her?"
"Indeed. Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Derek doesn't know how to respond to that. His stance becomes less aggressive,
his plan to attack leaving his mind in light of this new revelation. "You two
know each other?" he asks, backing up a couple of steps when the two women move
to stand side by side, both of their arms crossed just below their chests. They
form a united front, with Charlie still lingering a little off to the side,
separated.
"Allow me to explain," Holly drawls, the corner of her mouth still raised even
though the smirk is for the most part gone. "When you and Stiles came to visit
me all those months ago, looking for answers about what Landon did to me and my
old pack, I was angry and feeling sorry for myself. My magic was still locked
away because of your uncle's extreme cruelty, but it could still sense that
Stiles had some serious power in him. I wanted Landon to be killed, and I knew
that Stiles could do it, so I helped the two of you in any way I could. I knew
he was dead when my magic was suddenly freed a few days after your visit, but
because my body had been out of commission for so long, I couldn't do anything
with it. I was too weak to use it. I got angrier, at myself and at the world. I
was tired of being the victim, and I wanted to make everyone pay. I didn't care
how. That's when Elizabeth came knocking. We used to be friends, you see, back
when she first got pregnant with little Charlie over there," she glances off to
her left at the girl in question, "back when she was still exclusively
practising light magic. We drifted apart after she began experimenting with the
darker side and lost touch.
"She offered to heal me completely if I helped her. I agreed.
"Only she wasn't strong enough to do it completely. As you can see, I still
have some scars and I can't do everything I once could. She needed more power,
and I told her about Stiles. We made a plan to come here and see how far he had
progressed, whether he was ready. My sister, Maria, objected to the whole
thing. You remember her, don't you? Lovely thing... She said she would warn you
that we were coming. We couldn't have that, so I killed her, as much as it
pained me after she looked after me so selflessly all those years..."
They're both fucking crazy, Derek thinks, wishing that Stiles was by his side
to hear all of this, too.
Elizabeth takes over. "We made a plan. Holly and Charlie would infiltrate your
circle in different ways, Charlie into the pack to find out everything about
them, and Holly into Stiles' training. She went to another of her old friends
and his mentor, Alan Deaton, with the lie that she recovered when Landon was
killed and wanted to help train Stiles as a sort of thank you."
Jackson mumbles under his breath, "The exposition is strong with this one..."
Danny elbows him in the ribs.
"There, Holly kept an eye on Stiles' progress," Elizabeth continues, unaware or
uncaring of the beta's criticism. "The only problem was that things weren't
advancing as fast as I wanted. Stiles was too tentative, and Deaton objected
when I got Holly to suggest other methods for his training that would move
things along more. So...we got rid of him. He's been a guest in my basement
ever since."
A thought occurs to Derek, and he turns to Holly. "Wait, that's why you showed
up late to that one session with your hair all messed up! You were getting
Deaton out of the picture!" he accuses, pointing a finger at the blonde
dramatically. The timing fits, especially since no one has seen a single sign
of Deaton since before that night, not the pack nor any of his clients. He
becomes incensed and narrows his eyes when Holly nods, but he doesn't make a
move just yet. There's still more information he wants to get before he kills
the two women.
"I started casting the curses," Elizabeth explains gleefully, proud of her own
ingenuity. "This forced Stiles to use more of his magic and made him progress
faster." Her smile slips. "Too fast, it turned out. He was able to do things I
never could have foreseen, things that shouldn't have been possible until after
years of studious learning and practise. I was impressed, but I knew I had to
do something about it before he got a handle on it all and made stealing it
impossible. That's when I knew I needed more power—I needed more power to get
the original power I came here for; ironic, isn't it?
"As luck would have it, this town was home to a Nemeton, and you know how that
went. It was perfect, even more so with what Stiles did to himself a couple of
days ago. He laid himself out for me on a platter..."
She cackles, sending shivers up Derek's spine.
By this point, the rest of the pack is getting restless. They want to attack,
but out of respect for their alpha they refrain from doing so until Derek makes
the first move. They know he must have a reason for waiting, and admittedly
they're all curious themselves to find out how Elizabeth accomplished
everything she did.
"Anyway... I put my curse inside of his magic and let it go to work," the witch
finishes smugly. "It was supposed to be so much more potent that way, but
seeing as you're all still here, I guess not. Never mind. It doesn't matter
because I'm done playing games. I'll be taking care of you all in a minute
anyway, and then we'll go and find your little mate and get what we came here
for in the first place."
Before Derek, Chris or the rest of the pack can prepare to defend themselves,
she leaps forward with her palms glowing and heads straight for the alpha,
wanting to have the strongest one all to herself.
The betas all catch up fast and respond with their claws and fangs bared.
It's chaos.
Lydia, Kira and Chris all stay back with their guns, looking for any pauses in
the action that'll give them a chance to get off a shot or two. Everybody else
splits apart to focus on different targets. Derek and Isaac face off against
Elizabeth. Even with two on one, she proves to be a formidable foe and is
easily able to keep up with them. She moves expertly and doesn't even look like
she's taking the fight seriously, firing off little bolts of magic that shock
the wolves, aiming to annoy rather than outright kill. She plays with them
cockily. Danny and Jackson go up against Holly, who, while less powerful than
Elizabeth because she doesn't have any of the Nemeton's power, is still able to
hold her own. The two betas work in tandem to combat her magic, one of them
distracting her while the other tries to attack from behind. Because they've
been best friends for years, each of them is able to guess the other's
movements before they're made, and they work in perfect synchronisation. They
feel it's a good strategy, but it still doesn't work. They fail to land a
single hit that's anything more than a graze, much to their frustration.
Lastly, Boyd fights against Charlie. The girl participates even though she
doesn't want to, having been ordered to do so by her mother before they left
the house earlier. She'd rather lay down her own life than take Boyd's, but
there's nothing she can do to stop herself as she wields the magic her mother
has lent her to try and take him down.
She doesn't actually know how to use any of it, but that doesn't matter. It's
like it has a mind of its own, and it means that her mother doesn't need to
keep giving her more commands to carry out. The woman's magic does it all for
her, meaning that Charlie is simply along for the ride, like a marionette. She
still feels everything, though, every time Boyd manages to nick her with a claw
or the tip of a fang. Her control is so lacking that she can't even open her
mouth to cry out in pain at the small wounds.
After Boyd gets particularly close to her throat, using his superior strength
to launch himself right into her personal space within a split second, her
hands shove out and connect with the centre of his chest.
A large burst of energy is released that sends him stumbling backwards and
makes his heart stutter in his chest. It stops for a few seconds before kicking
in again, and the small moment of panic he has about this is what gives Charlie
the opening she needs to take him out of the fight.
She's glad when her mother's influence doesn't make her kill the tall boy.
Instead, all she does is sneak up behind him with a large, sturdy branch in her
hand while he tries to get his breathing back under control, and she uses this
branch to whack him over the head and send him crumpling to the ground. Now
that he's lying flat on his back, unable to defend himself, Elizabeth's magic
makes her angle the branch vertically and plunge it without compunction
straight through his abdomen, impaling and securing him in place. He wakes up
briefly at the flash of bright pain but succumbs to unconsciousness once more a
few seconds later, when the shock of it becomes to much for his brain to
handle.
It's at this point that Lydia fires a bullet at Charlie. Charlie only just
manages to dodge it, and when she's caught up with what just happened she goes
right for the other redhead, her mother's magic continuing to guide her way and
make her body move in ways it ordinarily could not. She weaves in and out of
the way of more bullets until she's an inch away from Lydia, at which point she
yanks the gun from her hand.
When Lydia tries to scramble away and pull out a second firearm from the
waistband of her skirt, Charlie throws the first gun at the back of her head
with such force that she is immediately knocked out.
Holly has Danny and Jackson beaten surprisingly quickly. The two betas are no
match for her when she really starts to fight. To begin with, she didn't use
all of her skill because she wanted to see what the boys would do, but after a
while it began to get boring. Her clothes have several tiny cuts in them, the
material of her shirt fraying and the skin beneath marred with thin, raised
lines of red left behind from when she didn't get out of the way of a claw
quick enough. Getting tired of going through the motions and wanting to get the
whole thing over with already, she plays along when Jackson tries yet again to
distract her and turns in his direction, pretending to focus all of her
attention on him. When she hears Danny dart around behind her and push off from
a tree to move toward her faster, claws no doubt raised, she spins back around
at the last second and, channelling all of her magic into her right hand,
punches him right in the centre of his stomach. His claws end up stopping an
inch from her face, close but yet so far from their target. She smiles when he
falls to the ground and begins coughing up blood rather violently.
"Pathetic," she says disparagingly.
Jackson is outraged as he watches Danny convulse on the ground, clutching his
stomach and whining in pain. He tries to retaliate, his anger making him blind
to logic, and rushes toward Holly with his fangs bared and a loud growl
building in his chest. He's put out of commission just as easily as his best
friend.
Seeing that Charlie has begun advancing on her now that Lydia is down for the
count, Kira backs away and fires off a couple of shots at the redheaded girl.
They seem to have no effect, almost bouncing off of her pale skin without doing
any damage at all. Kira begins backing away, looking around desperately for
Chris, who is on the other side of the clearing, dealing with his own problems
now that Holly has shifted targets to him. As a last ditch effort, Kira tries
to send a bolt of electricity at Charlie, but it backfires and she shocks
herself instead.
The current courses through her body and boils her blood.
Chris fires off shell after shell from his shotgun, the end of the barrel
pointed directly at Holly's head. Using her magic, the woman stops every piece
of buckshot before it can touch her skin, and they hover in the air momentarily
before dropping to the ground like flies. Panicking, Chris aims his gun up at a
thick branch that he has just passed under, one which Holly will also walk
beneath at any second. It has a small wasp's nest on the end. It's perfect. He
aims for the base of the branch and pulls the trigger, hoping to cause it to
drop on her head, but somehow he misses, his impeccable aim failing him for the
first time since he was a teenager and his father was teaching him the ropes of
hunting.
The brief thought of Gerard stirs up old anger before he dismisses it.
"Nice try," Holly sneers, raising a hand above her head and swinging it back
down sharply.
She takes a page out of Chris' book and sends the branch, complete with wasp's
nest, right at his head. The nest explodes on impact, and wasps fly madly
around him as he tries to bat them away, his shotgun dropping to the ground
with a clatter as he tries to run from their stinging.
Over the next ridge is a small river, and he throws himself into the freezing
water to escape being stung any more. He already has a series of throbbing
bumps on his face and arms that itch like crazy, and he stays submerged for
about thirty seconds before braving the air again, cautious of more wasps.
Luckily, his hastily thought-out plan seems to have worked and they've all
scattered, no doubt to begin forming a new home.
Derek and Isaac aren't faring much better against Elizabeth. Because of his
alpha status, Derek is able to hold out for much longer than the beta, but he
still has a hard time dealing with all the blows she lands on him.
His body aches all over from the small bolts of magic she started out using,
and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to make a successful move to
retaliate. It's a war of attrition. Elizabeth keeps most of her powers at bay,
in reserve on the off chance that Derek manages to get lucky, and instead
expends tiny doses to wear him down. She doesn't lose any of her energy or
enthusiasm, and seeing the alpha begin to show sighs of fatigue only serves to
improve her mood further. Isaac is more of a nuisance than a real threat.
The beta dances around her uselessly, waiting for an opening that never comes.
A few minutes into the fight, after Elizabeth apparently tires of playing games
with him and Derek, Isaac gets distracted from his main target when he hears
Danny cry out in pain, followed by the horrible sounds of coughing and
gurgling. He turns his head to the left and pauses in his movements to look for
his boyfriend on the other side of the clearing. This foolhardy decision is
what brings about his own downfall. He hopes for a second that Derek has
Elizabeth occupied enough that his distraction won't matter, and another second
later he is shot and blasted backward as something hits him directly in the
centre of his chest. His body feels like it's on fire, starting in his heart
and spreading out through his veins until it's in the tips of his fingers and
toes, and he sees a bright flash of faintly red light as Elizabeth's magic
impacts before his world becomes nothing but a dizzying blur. He's shot off of
his feet and up into the air, spinning wildly, and when he lands again his head
is the first thing to come back to earth and he's knocked out in an instant,
leaving Derek to continue fighting Elizabeth on his own. Not that it really
makes much difference.
Derek can feel all of his connections to his betas change as they're taken out
one by one. His threads to Boyd, Jackson, Danny, Lydia, Kira and Isaac all join
Allison's and Erica's in shadow, with nothing coming back his way but the faint
sense and comfort that they're all still alive. Boyd and Danny have passed out,
and Allison and Erica are too far away from him to pick up on anything
substantial.
His thread to Stiles is still active, and because their mating bond makes it
his strongest one, he can easily pick up on the pain the boy is in. It worries
him, but unlike Isaac, he doesn't let it take his mind away from the woman
still grinning maniacally in front of him.
Instead, he uses the pain he feels in both his own body and in Stiles' to fuel
his fighting.
It makes him stronger, less susceptible to all of Elizabeth's tricks. In the
short break between her spells, he lunges for her with his hands raised and
manages to get a good hit in. His claws rake down her side as a sort of payback
for what her curse made him do to Stiles just over three weeks ago, and he
feels a smirk form on his lips at the thought. It's justice in his eyes.
"Ah! You fucking animal!" Elizabeth shrieks in pain. She holds a hand over the
long gashes and heals them quickly, a white light emanating from the area as
the bleeding stops and her flesh knits itself back together. Once that is done,
she gathers all of her powers, everything she had from birth and everything she
stole from the Nemeton, and lets it spread through her body. "You'll pay for
that..." Without another word, and before Derek has a chance to get himself
ready for the move, she slices her hand horizontally through the air and sweeps
his legs out.
He lands with a heavy thud on his back.
Now that Derek is temporarily out of commission, Elizabeth uses the few seconds
of reprieve she has and focuses on the ground beneath which he lies as she
holds her arms out in front of her, parallel to each other. Slowly, she widens
the gap between them, and as she does this the earth starts to shake and split.
It takes a lot of concentration, and she's grateful to Holly and Charlie for
taking out all of Derek's allies so that she doesn't have a chance of being
interrupted halfway through. Eventually, the ground splits completely and
creates a deep fissure that the alpha only just manages to avoid falling into.
Derek rolls over onto his side at the last second and leaps to his feet to
watch it's progress.
Holly and Charlie are equally as awestruck, but for different reasons.
The blonde practically salivates like a dog over the thought of what she and
Elizabeth could do with all of that power—and that's without adding Stiles' to
it all—all the people they could take down just to get even more. A polar
opposite, if her body allowed it, Charlie would be shaking in fear. As it is,
she still can't move without her mother's magic's permission, so she's stuck
where she is.
By this point, Chris has managed to get himself up and moving again, the pain
he feels from all of his wasp stings being ignored as much as possible. He
stands at the top of the clearing, clutching a thick tree to stop his shaky
legs from giving out and sending him sprawling to the bottom, possibly right
into the fissure that's steadily widening into a full-blown chasm. There's
nothing but all-consuming blackness at the bottom. He scans the area and picks
out everyone's unconscious bodies, noting with relief that they're all at least
a foot away from the hole in the ground that Elizabeth is creating.
Because the chasm didn't serve its original purpose thanks to Derek's quick
feet, its creation turns into more of a display of power rather than anything
with which she plans to bury her enemies alive. "What's the matter, Derek?
Haven't you ever seen true power before?!" she goads, grinning. In an instant,
the ground becomes steady again as she stops widening the chasm and clenches
one of her hands into a fist.
"Get a load of this!" she yells.
A large piece of rock almost the size of her whole body breaks off from one of
the chasm walls, and with a swing of her arm, Elizabeth sends it hurtling in
Derek's direction. He manages to dodge out of its way and, because it was
thrown with such force, it carves through the earth until it's buried about
halfway. She repeats this move time and again, tearing off more and more from
the chasm walls and trying to crush Derek with the large boulders. She feels
drunk on power, like she can do anything, and the size of the boulders just
gets bigger and bigger as she goes until they're so heavy and she has to use
both hands to hurl them at their target. All the while, Chris tries to go
unnoticed as he pulls the unconscious pack members out of harm's way. He
carries them as delicately as he can manage—taking extra care with Danny and
Boyd since they're the most severely wounded—and brings them to rest by the
stream in which he sought safety from the wasps. Surprisingly, Holly and
Charlie don't make a move to stop him, either because they're too enraptured
watching Elizabeth and Derek to notice him or because they just don't care. The
latter option seems more likely, at least in Holly's case.
Eventually, Derek starts to get tired again, more slow, and as a result he's
not fast enough to move out of the way of one of Elizabeth's attacks. The large
rock hits and dislocates his left shoulder.
He cries out and clutches at it, trying desperately to put it back in place
before Elizabeth can make another move, but he's not swift enough. A smaller
rock comes flying at his head and in his distraction he doesn't duck in time.
It hits him in the side of his forehead and knocks him down. He lies there on
the ground, unable to move much as his vision rights itself and the figure
standing above him, partially silhouetted by the sun passing overhead, comes
into view. His head throbs, and he moves his right hand up to clutch at it. It
comes away wet and painted a sickly red that, probably because of his head
wound, turns his stomach.
"Well, you put up a decent fight, Derek, I'll give you that," Elizabeth says as
she looks down on the man, "but I think it's best that we bring this to a
close, don't you? I'm sure Stiles is expecting me, wherever he is, and I don't
want to keep him waiting. I have more power to collect and all. Nice knowing
you."
She raises a hand to make the killing blow...
But she's thrown backward before she can actually strike.
"Get the fuck away from my man!" Stiles orders threateningly with Parrish stood
behind him, his unbroken arm held out. While he keeps most of his attention
focused solely on Elizabeth as the woman gets back to her feet, as Parrish
skirts around the edge of the clearing, over to where Chris Argent leans
heavily against a tree—all of the ex-hunter's remaining energy was sapped in
making sure the unconscious and slowly healing members of the pack were all
safe—Stiles keeps a small piece of his attention focused on the two men, too.
Parrish is quick to help Chris walk away, following the other man's directions
and dropping him off with the betas, Lydia and Kira, next to the small stream.
Stiles and Parrish's trek through the preserve had been a tough one. Stiles'
head would start spinning again every minute or so because of the blow he took
to it when he was blasted through the training room ceiling. He persevered
through it, though, never slowing down for more than a second because he could
feel his connections to the rest of his pack dimming one by one as, he assumed,
they were knocked out of the fight.
His magic was practically vibrating in anticipation as he and Parrish got
closer, like it was just itching to be used and get revenge on the woman who
morphed it temporarily into something evil. It's a desire he definitely
possessed himself, and it made him walk faster as it got more intense. His
remaining thread to Derek was going haywire by the time they finally reached
the battle site, projecting to him all sorts of feelings and emotions—fear and
uncertainty, mainly—and when he crested over the final hill and looked down on
the clearing, he understood why. The sight of the chasm was shocking, and
luckily neither Elizabeth nor Holly realised that they had new company as he
and Parrish hurried quietly down the slope and onto even ground.
Derek gets to his feet as soon as Elizabeth is blasted away from him, and when
he sees Stiles standing a few feet away he hurries over to the boy, in a panic
because of his bloodied state. "Stiles! What the fuck happened?!" he demands,
resisting the urge to reach out and touch because he doesn't know what other
injuries his mate may have that aren't obvious to the naked eye. The slung-up
arm and the red-stained bandage around Stiles' head give him enough of a fright
as it is.
"Later, Sourwolf," Stiles replies, catching movement behind Derek.
Elizabeth has finished getting to her feet and Holly is looking over at the two
of them murderously, so he pushes his wolf quickly out of the way and raises
his hand again. Using his magic, he holds Holly and Charlie in place against
two trees, being more gentle with the redhead because he can tell the part she
played was unwilling.
Derek watches, ready to step in and try again if he deems that Stiles is in too
much danger.
Righting her skirt around her waist, Elizabeth is furious. "That was rude!" she
yells at Stiles, feeling more determined than ever to kill Stiles and Derek now
that her accomplices can no longer help.
In this moment, Stiles knows that it's time to finally do what he planned on
doing days ago, when he cast the spell that started all of his magical
problems. "Get ready, Der... I don't know what this is going to do, exactly,
but just run with it and use it to kill her, OK?" he warns, whispering in an
effort to make it so that only his mate can hear him. He steps a little bit
closer, within touching distance of the alpha but keeping his eyes on Elizabeth
as she continues to dust off her skirt, and knows it's worked when he sees
Derek's head turn in his direction out of his periphery. "I'm gonna have to set
Holly and Charlie free for this to work, so you'll have to act fast." As soon
as the last word has left his tongue, he gathers all of his magic close
again—Holly and Charlie drop from where he was holding them up against two tree
trunks—and forms it into a tiny ball. He reaches out a hand until his palm
touches the centre of Derek's chest and pushes his magic out of his and into
the man's body instead. All of it goes as commanded, and he's left feeling
terribly cold and weak for several seconds before his magic takes root inside
of its new host and flourishes.
Confused, Derek doesn't know what Stiles has just done until it's already
happening. It's like there's another presence in his heart all of a sudden,
shining light on everything within him until they're completely merged
together. He hunches over and everything around him is blocked out as he gets
swept up in the sensation, and in the next second he feels himself changing.
His claws and fangs come out, his eyebrows disappear as coarse hair sprouts
along the sides of his face, and he knows his eyes would be glowing red if they
were open.
But that's just the beginning...
He keeps changing, further than he ever has before. His clothes split apart as
his muscles bulge obscenely and grow in size, and the ruined material flutters
to the ground, useless, and his bones break and he falls down to his knees.
Arms, legs, feet, hands...all of it gets bigger, longer, and all the hair on
his body gets thicker until he's covered from head to foot in dark fur. When he
tries to stand again, moving from four limbs to two, he finds that he already
is. Stiles' magic has turned him into a wolf, in every sense of the word, paws
and tail and all. He feels so strong, like he can take on anything and come out
the victor. It's invigorating.
Stiles is speechless. To anyone else, Derek's new form would probably seem
terrifying. The alpha is this hulking mass of pure muscle and sharp claws and
teeth, coming up well past his waist even on four legs, like a Great Dane. To
him, though...because he knows who's beneath all of that, he's not scared at
all.
No one, not Elizabeth, Holly or Charlie, even thought of attacking during
Derek's transformation.
They were too busy watching it happen to take the opening it gave them, and now
that it's over and Derek stands before them, intimidating and like nothing they
want to mess with, they still don't go to make a move. Charlie wishes she could
retreat again, could get away from what's happening. When the wolf bares its
large teeth and growls in their direction, her body shakes, and the fact that
Holly and Elizabeth also seem frightened of this new Derek only serves to make
her shake more. She closes her eyes so that she doesn't have to see the end
coming.
Because of his magic, Stiles is linked with Derek so wholly, in mind and in
power, and he knows they've won. No longer feeling cold, he pats the wolf a
couple of times between his ears before stepping away.
"Sic 'em," he instructs, smirking.
Derek bounds forward in an instant and makes a beeline right for Elizabeth. She
tries to hit him with another blast of magic to stop him, but it just bounces
off of his fur like it's nothing. Derek is at his zenith with Stiles' magic
inside of him, protecting him, and he takes vindictive pleasure in the
terrified scream Elizabeth lets out when he pounces on her, knocking her to the
ground roughly and catching one of her flailing arms between his jaws. One
sharp bite later and he's tossing his head to the side and throwing Elizabeth's
useless arm away, licking the blood from his chops. It's violent and disgusting
and, in his mind and in Stiles'—he can feel the boy's essence vibrate with
approval inside of his barrel-like chest—it's nothing less than she deserves.
He tears the other three limbs from her body and completes things by ripping
off her head and spitting it in Holly's direction. He spares a brief thought
for Charlie, who looks like she may throw up any second, but the girl is wiped
from his mind when Holly turns to flee. The blonde should know better than to
run away from a wolf, he thinks, and he proves it to her by closing the
distance between them before she can get even three feet away.
Holly meets a similar fate as Elizabeth, but all of her limbs remain connected
to her torso. Derek only tears off her head, leaping into the air and turning
his open-wide jaws sideways so that he can fit them around the back of her neck
and bite down. When he lands gracefully on his four paws, it's over.
Her mother's control disappearing with her life, Charlie's body sags with
exhaustion as it's freed.
She'd quickly grown to hate the woman, but still, seeing Elizabeth being torn
apart like that makes her feel a deep sense of loss, and she can't help the
tears that build in her eyes as she turns away and resolutely tries to resist
the urge to look back over her shoulder at the remains. Stiles approaches her,
and the tears spill over when she feels an arm wrap around her body in a half
hug, giving her comfort even though she played a major part in what has
happened over the past two months. Stiles is the forgiving type, she should
have known.
Parrish leaves Chris with the others and returns to the scene of the battle, at
the same time as Derek, and is shocked by the sight of the wolf. He's about to
get out his gun again, but then he sees Stiles break away from Charlie and walk
right on up to it fearlessly, so he stays his hand. Looking around for
Elizabeth and Holly, he feels sick to his stomach when he sees what's left of
them.
"Hey," Stiles greets when he and Derek get within touching distance.
Derek butts his head against Stiles' stomach affectionately.
Now that their goal has been achieved and they're safe again, the pain in
Stiles' arm and head are catching up to him. His fingers tangle in the soft fur
of Derek's side as he tries to keep himself standing.
Derek, sensing his mate's increasing fatigue, worries for a second about what
he should do. He doesn't want to give Stiles back his magic just yet because he
thinks that would result in him returning to standing on two legs, without any
clothes, and being seen like that by Charlie and Jordan isn't ideal. The only
option left to him soon becomes clear, and he lowers himself down and looks
back over his shoulder pointedly, whining imploringly for Stiles to climb up
and hold on as best he can. He's pleased when Stiles does just that,
understanding what he means without a second's hesitation because they're still
so connected to each other.
He trusts that Parrish and Chris will take good care of his betas and Charlie
in his absence. His mate takes priority, so he raises himself back up and sets
off at a slow pace back to the house. The trip doesn't take very long, and it's
just five minutes later that he's letting Stiles slip off of his back to open
the door.
It's a bit of a squeeze for Derek to get through it and into the foyer, but he
manages.
Now that he's in the relative seclusion of his and Stiles' home, he feels
comfortable allowing Stiles' magic to return to its owner. On the journey, it
was trying to do just that, probably because its purpose had been served, but
he held on to it tightly. It didn't put up much of a fight, a response for
which he was grateful. As soon as the last vestige of Stiles' magic is gone
from his body, he begins the change back to human, fur receding and bones
breaking and reforming.
As soon as he's standing up straight again, he takes Stiles in his arms and
holds onto him tightly but gently, very much aware of what he thinks is the
boy's broken arm. Stiles grips him back just as hard.
***** Amends *****
They stay that way for several long minutes, revelling in the fact that they
both made it out of the fight unscathed, for the most part. They're still alive
to see another day, at least. Eventually, Derek takes one last long comforting
whiff of Stiles' scent—his nose is buried in the boy's hair, tickling his
nostrils—before releasing him. "I'm gonna go get washed up real quick and then
we'll see about getting you to the hospital so someone can look at that arm,
OK?" he assures, pressing his lips to Stiles' forehead before dashing up the
stairs to their bedroom and on into their en suite bathroom. The mirror is
still smashed, but he pays it no mind because he doesn't really need it. He can
fix it at a later time.
While he waits, Stiles meanders through to the living room and gapes at what he
finds.
Parrish wasn't kidding earlier when he said he found the room in flames, and
Stiles feels a large sense of responsibility and guilt that he accidentally
burned up a part of Derek's life once more. The feeling is quickly brushed
aside with a shake of his head, though, because he knows it's just old
insecurities trying to rear their ugly heads again. Derek won't blame him, just
like he didn't blame him for the loft.
His mate is wonderful like that.
Just as he's about to go back to the foyer, a noise in the kitchen catches his
attention.
He turns in that direction and walks toward it cautiously, wondering what could
have caused it. The person with whom he's greeted makes him grin widely.
"Cora!" he exclaims when he sees the youngest Hale rummaging through the
cupboards and clutching a newly opened box of Pop Tarts in her hand.
The girl turns around at the call of her name. "Dude, what the hell happened to
you? And to this place?" she asks as Stiles rushes over and pulls her into a
hug that she begrudgingly returns after a second of shock. She's never been one
for displays of physical affection—her little tryst with Charlie in Jungle
notwithstanding. The boy positively reeks of magic, a scent she's fast becoming
familiar with, and blood, and she pats him awkwardly on the back a couple of
times before forcing him to finally relinquish his hold around her body.
"Uhh...that's a long story," Stiles replies, still smiling.
"Well, I-"
A second later, Derek enters the room, freshly showered, and stops when he sees
his sister standing there, alive and well. He takes a shaky breath before
rushing forward and pulling her into another hug, and Stiles has a clear view
of her face over the man's shoulder. She tries to look annoyed but he can see
the corner of her mouth twitching like she wants to smile. He kind of feels
like an intruder on a private moment, but neither of the Hales complain about
his being there so he stays in the background, looking inward and focusing on
his bond to Derek. He feels fresh relief from the alpha that Cora is no longer
dead, and it warms his own heart all over again. His throat feels dry—probably
because he inhaled a bunch of dust when he was blasted through the concrete
training room ceiling—so he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge to remedy
this problem. He has to unscrew the cap with his teeth because he still only
has one useable arm, and when he gets it open he swirls some of the cold liquid
around his mouth to get rid of the chalky taste. He spits it out in the sink
before drinking down another couple of mouthfuls with the desperation of a
severely dehydrated man, his body thanking him when it comes to sit heavily in
his otherwise empty stomach.
That reminds him:
They'll have to stop off somewhere after the hospital to get something to eat.
"OK, seriously, what's with all this touchy-feely shit?" Cora demands when she
finally extricates herself from her brother's embrace. "You're actually
starting to freak me out here."
"What do you remember?" Derek asks, blinking away moisture from his eyes. He
frowns when Cora just shakes her head, indicating that she remembers nothing.
Perhaps that's for the best, he muses as he takes a Pop Tart from the box still
in her hand and eats it in almost one bite. Transforming into a wolf has really
left him feeling famished, so much so that the fact that he doesn't usually
like the sugary treats doesn't matter.
Stiles hands over the remainder of his water to Derek when he sees the man
glancing at it with want clear in his eyes, and he fails to stop the wince that
contorts his face when the movement disturbs the arm he still has in a sling.
"Can we continue this conversation later, maybe after I've got my arm in a
cast?" he pleads, feeling grateful when Derek immediately drops the water
bottle and begins siphoning off his pain, black veins crawling up his muscular
arm. "Thanks..." A few seconds later, Derek is guiding him with a hand on the
small of his back toward the front door and outside to his black Camaro, Cora
trailing behind curiously.
The journey to the hospital is a short one.
Derek speeds them there because he wants to get his mate some pain relief that
doesn't rely on constant physical contact, not that he would mind that. He just
knows it would get a little inconvenient after a while.
Their timing is apparently perfect because as soon as they enter the building
they find Melissa McCall standing right by the front desk, poring over some
paperwork. The woman looks up at the new arrivals and her eyes widen when she
sees the rough state Stiles is in. "Oh my God, honey!" she gasps, dropping the
papers without a second glance and rushing over to the trio, her motherly
instincts kicking in full force. She wraps an arm around Stiles' shoulders and
leads him down the hall. "What on earth happened to you?"
"That's a story best told without a big audience, Melissa," Derek interrupts,
coughing awkwardly as they pass a doctor heading in the other direction, back
the way they just came. He sticks close to Stiles protectively, his wolf
protesting if he gets more than three feet away. "He has a broken arm and a
possible concussion."
Stiles wishes that Derek wouldn't talk as if he's not there.
He gets why but it's still annoying.
Melissa nods her understanding and refrains from giving voice to any of the
numerous other questions she still has. She brings the group to an empty room
off one of the quieter halls and instructs Stiles to take a seat on the bed
while she goes and gets the supplies she'll need for a cursory examination. "Be
back in a minute," she assures, patting Stiles a couple of times on his
shoulder before leaving the room again.
Being in Beacon Hills Memorial does things to Stiles' stomach that he doesn't
like. It turns unpleasantly as memories assault his mind that he can't shake
off, of his mother's frail body and the bloody massacre the Oni and the
Nogitsune perpetrated while wearing his face. It was lucky for him that no one
was left to point their fingers in his direction, and he immediately feels
guilty for the thought. Hospitals are just not a place he ever wants to be, he
decides, vowing to never return to one—at least this one—if he can help it.
"Fat chance," he scoffs, ignoring the confused looks he gets from both Hales.
Taking the empty spot next to his mate, Derek eyes everything in the room
cautiously, like he suspects there may be something around that will bring more
harm to the boy. He still feels restless, high on adrenaline, and he guesses
that it's going to take a while for him to calm down and for the fact that
Elizabeth and Holly are dead and gone to properly sink in. The room
unsurprisingly stinks of medicine, a smell that can easily make him feel sick,
and he discreetly turns his head to the side so that he gets more of Stiles'
familiar scent in his nose instead. It's a much better option in his mind, and
it helps to settle his wolf a bit.
"You're seriously still not going to tell me what's happened?" Cora complains a
minute later, pacing.
"Wait for Melissa to get back," Derek counters with a flash of his eyes.
Cora growls quietly before acquiescing.
Stiles smiles.
A minute later, Melissa reenters the room and pulls up a chair so that she can
sit directly opposite Stiles. "Alright, honey, let's get you taken care of..."
she says gently. She starts by carefully untying the sling still keeping his
arm relatively secure and prods at it gently. Her manner becomes distinctly
more professional, her medical training taking over. She's very much aware that
Derek watches her every move warily, and she resists shaking her head in
exasperation at the overprotective alpha wolf. "Yup, definitely broken. We'll
do an x-ray to get a better idea of how bad it is, but it'll definitely need to
be in a cast for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months, depending." Next she
removes the makeshift bandage from around his head and examines the cut on the
upper left side of his forehead, determining that it's just a small one which
thankfully won't need stitches. There's a nasty-looking bump beneath it,
though, which worries her a little, so she runs through a short list of the
typical symptoms of a concussion and frowns when an alarming number of them end
up with a tick next to them. A concussion is definitely on the cards, by the
looks of things, just like Derek thought.
She adds a CT scan to the list of tests she'll be overseeing later, oblivious
to the way Stiles' eyes widen at the mere mention of one. "Right, is there
anything else I need to look at, anything else that hurts?"
"My ribs hurt a little, but that's about it," Stiles answers nervously, resting
his arm tentatively on his left thigh. He breathes a sigh of relief when the
expected twinge of pain doesn't come, and when he feels Derek's hand on his
right shoulder he realises just why that is. He pats the man's knee gratefully.
"Alright, I don't think it's a good idea for you to take your shirt off
normally until we know that there's no major damage with your ribs, so I'm
going to have to cut it..." Melissa says offhandedly, getting up briefly to
look for her scissors. She sighs at the pointlessness of her search when she
turns around and sees that Derek has already taken care of it with one of his
claws, but her mild annoyance quickly dissipates when she sees the painful-
looking purple colour that Stiles' left side is slowing turning.
The boy looks down himself when he sees Melissa's expression and isn't
surprised by what he finds.
Derek is also concerned but keeps it to himself.
After some more prodding on her part and wincing on Stiles', Melissa comes to
the conclusion that none of his ribs are broken, just badly bruised. "We'll
wrap them just in case, though, and that should help them heal," she says.
"We'll do the x-ray and the cast first and get those out of the way, and then
move on to your ribs and head, OK?" She gets to her feet and urges Stiles to do
the same. Cora announces that she's going to go and wait in the waiting room,
so it's just Derek that accompanies them to the elevator. Melissa makes sure
the test is done as fast as possible and a few minutes later she has the
resulting image. "It looks like a simple fracture. I don't think we'll have to
do anything to it before casting it up, which is good news."
Melissa enlists the help of a doctor to do the cast while she goes and gets the
CT scan sorted. There's no one else scheduled to have one that day, so it's
completely free for them to use, thankfully. Because of this, the technologist
whose job it is to run the machine isn't in the hospital that day, but after
phoning him up and calling in the favour he owes her, it's all taken care of
and he's on his way.
Stiles' red cast is all put on half an hour later, and the doctor—Dr. Martin,
he says his name is—instructs him to be careful with it for the next couple of
days because it'll take that long for it to harden fully.
His ribs are then wrapped up tightly, which oddly enough makes it easier for
him to breathe, and then the doctor is leaving and Melissa is coming back to
get him. He feels extreme anxiety as he walks toward the scan room because of
what happened the last time he went in there, when the Nogitsune took control
of him again.
Fidgeting nervously outside of the door, he enters tentatively after Melissa
and changes into the hospital gown when the woman graciously turns her back to
give him some semblance of privacy. Derek has to help him take off his chinos
because he can't get the button through the hole with just one working hand,
which he finds a little mortifying, but he doesn't comment on it. Derek then
helps him lie back in place, and he knows that the man can tell how scared he
is because he can hear his own heart beating in his ears, and if he can hear
it, then Derek definitely can. Sure enough, the wolf looks at him with concern
as he leaves the room with Melissa.
"Are you sure I can't be in there with him?" Derek asks when the door is shut.
"I'm afraid not, Derek. It would be dangerous," Melissa replies softly.
Derek sighs and waits impatiently.
Lying there still as stone, Stiles tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn't
think he has a concussion—even though he apparently ticked enough of the boxes
to have Melissa worried, he feels fine otherwise. Because she would obviously
know better than him, though, he doesn't say anything when the machine whirrs
to life and he begins moving backward into the gantry. He faintly hears the
technologist talking him through it, telling him to stay as still as
possible—not a problem, he thinks—before the noise of the machine drowns the
man's tinny voice out. The sound of it moving as it scans him is exactly the
same as last time, though he thinks it may only sound as loud as it does
because he's so focused on it. It's the only thing he has to occupy his mind
and he tries to make of game of counting all of the noises as the scan
continues. It seems to last forever until he mercifully hears the whirring
sound ease off and the tray he's lying on moves back and out of the gantry.
Derek is there instantly to help him sit up. The wolf murmurs nonsensical
assurances at him for a while, and while he doesn't catch any of the words, the
soothing tone of Derek's voice is comforting nevertheless.
"Are you alright?" Melissa asks Stiles confusedly as she enters the room
through the door Derek left open. During the scan, Derek had been stood right
outside of it, glaring with such intensity that she honestly thought for a
second that the wood would burst into flames. As soon as she gave the all-clear
for him to open it, he was on one side of it one second and in the next he was
standing right beside Stiles.
"Fine..." Stiles hiccups meekly. Because his left arm is out of commission, he
has to twist his body around awkwardly so he can take one of Derek's hands in
his right. He calms himself with the familiar touch.
Melissa hums thoughtfully.
"Are you sure? You look awfully pale..." she presses.
Sighing, Stiles gets off of the table and onto the cool floor with Derek's
help. "It's just...a little weird being back in here after what happened the
last time," he explains as casually as he can manage as he looks around for his
clothes. He finds them folded up neatly on a bench that's pressed up against
one of the walls and walks over to them purposefully, with the intent of
putting them back on. After his admittance he feels naked enough, emotionally
speaking, and being physically so any longer seems impossible to him now. He
wants to cover himself up again so that the vulnerability of his physical
nudity is gone, and he sighs defeatedly when he steps into his chinos and
realises he can't pull them up.
Derek has to help him again.
The thought that Stiles might feel discomfort didn't even cross Melissa's
mind—perhaps she's become too desensitised—but now what Stiles is talking about
seems glaringly obvious and she doesn't know how she didn't realise it before.
"You should've told me!" she fusses as she takes over from Derek to button up
the boy's flannel overshirt. It's a lucky thing for him that he always wears
two, she thinks, since it now preserves his modesty somewhat. "I could've given
you a mild sedative or something to help you keep calm."
"It's fine; it's done now anyway," Stiles dismisses as he struggles to get his
sleeve to fit around his cast. He gives up in the end and settles for having
the material awkwardly bunched up around the top of the plaster. "So...what
were the results? Concussion or no?"
Melissa smiles kindly. "You don't have a concussion after all," she replies
happily as she opens the door and brings Stiles and Derek back through the
halls to the room they were in before. "Now, I think we've got all of your
injuries sorted out and you should be able to go home and heal there, but I'm
going to give you a little something that'll help you get to sleep. Your ribs
will probably make it difficult otherwise."
She turns and rummages through a bag that has seemingly appeared from nowhere.
Derek watches her carefully.
"Ah, morphine, my old friend..." Stiles comments as Melissa comes back with a
syringe and a small bottle of the stuff. He dutifully lets Derek roll up his
sleeve, holds out his right arm and looks away as she administers the shot,
screwing up his nose when the needle enters his skin. Another couple of seconds
later it's done and he feels something wet swipe over the spot the needle just
was before a small cotton ball is taped over it. He looks down and examines it
with mild interest before rolling his sleeve back down to cover it. "We all
set?"
"Yes," Melissa chirps, disposing of the syringe. "It'll kick in after a few
minutes, so I'd recommend going right to bed when you get home." Her eyes flick
over to Derek pointedly and stay there.
"I'll make sure of it," Derek says dutifully, helping Stiles to his feet.
"Try not to get hurt again anytime soon, OK?" Melissa begs as she pulls Stiles
into a hug.
"I'll try," the boy promises.
A minute later, Melissa accompanies them back through to the waiting room,
where Cora is sitting looking bored. She bids them farewell before getting back
to her shift, picking up the paperwork she'd left when the group first came in.
As they leave the building and get out into the chilly darkening evening, like
Melissa warned, Stiles begins to feel the effects of morphine quite intensely.
He sways a little as he walks across the parking lot to Derek's car, and he'd
probably actually fall over if Derek didn't have an arm around his shoulders to
keep him upright. "This is like, super trippy," he mumbles to no one in
particular as he's pushed into the passenger seat and fumbles with the
seatbelt. He feels like he's floating and spends the entire drive back home
staring out of his window at everything that blurs past in the street lights
like he's never seen any of it before. When the car lurches to a stop in front
of the house, he doesn't notice Derek and Cora opening their doors and getting
out and jumps when his own door is opened, even though he had his face pressed
against the glass and should have seen Derek reaching for the handle on the
other side. He tumbles out.
"OK, let's try to get you inside without breaking another bone, hmm?" Derek
says with fond exasperation when Stiles leans heavily into his side. He grunts
and purses his lips to stop himself from smiling when he feels Stiles' right
hand grab and squeeze his ass appreciatively. He slaps the touch away. "Stop
that!"
"You're so mean!" Stiles whines pathetically.
Cora rolls her eyes and shuts the front door behind them before stalking up to
her room, not in the mood to deal with any more of Stiles' drug-addled antics.
The boy is bad enough when he's completely sober.
Parrish and Chris come through from the kitchen, no doubt having heard their
arrival. They both have a mug of steaming coffee in their hands, and they nod
at Derek as he ushers Stiles up the stairs after Cora, intent on getting the
boy tucked into bed so he can sleep off the pain medication Melissa gave him.
He wonders briefly where the rest of the pack have gotten to before he opens
the door to the master bedroom and gets his answer.
He finds them all gathered in there, the majority of them piled on the bed.
Allison and Erica are among them.
"Stiles!" Isaac shouts excitedly as he gets up and rushes over to give the
human teen a hug.
To stop the beta from pouncing on Stiles and knocking him to the floor, Derek
flashes his eyes and brings him to a skidding halt. He ignores the confused and
puppy-eyed look Isaac shoots him in return. "Be careful!" he warns, walking his
mate further into the room and helping him to take a seat at the head of the
bed when Danny graciously moves aside to make room for him. "He's on some
pretty heavy-duty pain meds, but he still has bruised ribs and a broken arm, so
don't try just yet to climb all over him like you normally would, OK? It'll
take at least a couple of weeks until he's healed up enough for that again, if
not longer. What are you guys doing here anyway?"
"Well, Chris and Parrish told us you two were OK, but we wanted to see it with
our own eyes, so...we waited here for you to get back from the hospital," Isaac
answers as he shifts around a little bit, taking a spot on the bed next to
Danny. It's cramped but he doesn't care at all.
After he takes his own seat next to Stiles, Derek rolls his eyes and huffs out
a put-upon sigh when the boy immediately tries to climb over into his lap,
gangly limbs flying everywhere because the morphine Melissa gave him has
apparently served to exacerbate his clumsiness as well as alleviate any
potential pain. Dutifully, he wraps an arm around Stiles' waist and helps him
to get settled in hopes of avoiding being kneed in the crotch or something even
worse.
It wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately.
"Is he...high?" Erica asks from across the room, one eyebrow raised as a
devious smile appears on her lips. She's not deterred even when Derek narrows
his eyes at her and his mouth thins. In fact, her smile widens into a grin as
she watches Stiles look around the room with apparent wonder,
uncharacteristically oblivious to the fact that the current topic of
conversation is him. "Because that could make for an interesting evening, I
have to say. Much fun to be had." Everyone else—barring Derek—gets similar
expressions on their faces.
"I did say 'heavy-duty pain meds', didn't I?" Derek responds testily, not at
all liking the look he sees on all of his betas' faces. They can only mean bad
things are coming his and Stiles' way.
Stepping away from where she leans against Stiles and Derek's small bookcase,
Erica uncrosses her arms and approaches the bed, ignoring the way Derek
continues to glare at her. "So, Stiles, I have a few questions I've been
meaning to ask you for a while now," she begins, still unable to wipe the evil
grin from her lips.
Having grown bored of looking at everything in the room and only realising that
someone is speaking to him when his name is spoken a second time, Stiles
extricates his face from where he has tucked it into Derek's neck and blinks
blearily over at Erica. He makes a curious sound and smacks his lips, the drugs
he's on making it difficult for his eyes to adjust. The blonde looks like a
blur for a few seconds before her face swims into focus, and he frowns in
concern when he sees the way she stares right back with excited intensity.
"'Sup?" he chirps, sliding off of Derek's lap again and falling off to the
side, onto his own space on the bed.
"Well..." Erica crows, averting her eyes for a second like she suddenly feels
shy.
No one but Stiles is fooled.
"I was wondering, and I know a lot of the others are as well, just how our dear
alpha is in the sack," she continues, grin back in full force when she hears
Derek's heartbeat suddenly increase in speed. "It's super important that we
know, you see. Life or death and whatnot." Stiles doesn't seem to realise that
there's anything wrong with the question, and she perks up when the boy opens
his mouth as if to answer.
Unfortunately for her—and Lydia and Danny, who also showed interest—before
Stiles can get a word out, Derek covers the lower half of his face with a hand.
"Alright, that's enough!" the man barks, the tips of his ears turning pink.
"All of you get out now, please! You should go home anyway." He doesn't release
Stiles from his hold, not even when he feels a tongue lick a series of wet
stripes across his palm. The boy doesn't seem to mind it that much, apparently
perfectly content to settle back into him, Erica's question thankfully
forgotten.
"I mean it!" Derek warns when no one moves to leave.
"Ugh, fine! You're such a spoilsport..." Erica relents disappointedly.
One by one, the betas trickle out of the room, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.
Isaac is predictably the last to leave, nuzzling quickly into both of the alpha
couple's shoulders before dashing away to follow Danny back downstairs.
"Finally, some peace and quiet..." Derek says under his breath as he finally
takes his hand off of Stiles' mouth and wipes it on the bedding to rid it of
the boy's saliva. He guesses that Stiles will be OK if left on his own for a
few minutes and retreats to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. The
minty freshness of toothpaste is a vast improvement to the faint taste of
Elizabeth's and Holly's blood he's had on his tongue ever since he ripped them
both to pieces, and he groans quietly to himself out of relief when relieving
himself in the toilet bowl. After stripping out of all of his clothes apart
from his boxer-briefs and switching off the light, he reenters the bedroom and
finds Stiles exactly where he left him, lounging at the head of the bed. The
boy smiles at him brightly when he comes back into view, and he can't help but
return it as he steps closer to help him out of his clothes as well. He guesses
that Stiles will be fine without showering for just one night.
Once he has his mate stripped down to his underwear, too, Derek switches the
main light off, walks around to his own side of the bed and gets beneath the
covers. He frowns when Stiles just stares at him instead of settling down as
well. "What's wrong?" he asks, pillowing his head on his arm.
Stiles tilts his head to the side speculatively before answering, his eyes
slightly unfocused in the low light of Derek's bedside lamp. He doesn't realise
that the man has spoken for a few seconds and then his brain catches up. His
mind still feels foggy because of the morphine, but he has just enough brain
power left to register the question and come up with a suitable answer.
"You're super pretty..." he mumbles, reaching out with a shaky hand.
Keeping cautiously still, Derek flinches when it smacks against the side of his
face, a little more roughly than Stiles probably intended because of his drug-
induced stupor. He doesn't know how to respond to the compliment so he just
stays silent and stares back in confusion when his mate starts petting him like
a dog. "Uh, what are you doing?" he asks, blinking dumbly when he hears Stiles
begin to hum some unfamiliar tune under his breath and moving backward out of
Stiles' range when the boy just keeps stroking across his cheek without
replying. He doesn't get very far, though.
Stiles follows with a pout and makes a quiet, displeased sound, his right hand
wrapping around the back of Derek's neck to keep him in place and his casted
left arm scraping against the wolf's ribs.
"No!" he whines, drawing out the word like a child. "You need lovins!"
"I need what?" Derek deadpans.
"Lovins!"
Derek huffs out an annoyed breath as he rolls over onto his back and allows
Stiles to continue molesting him and whatever else he wants. The only thing he
does to participate is to hold carefully on to the boy's broken arm with his
right hand so that he doesn't accidentally hurt himself any further.
"Mmm...my snuggly wolf!" Stiles giggles, trying to wedge his other arm beneath
Derek's body and grab a handful of his ass again. He's oblivious to the raucous
cackling that's currently happening on the other side of the closed bedroom
door, and of the way Derek glares daggers at it and sends out an angry thought
to get the soundproofing to work, effectively saving himself from any more
embarrassment. Stiles rubs his face against the dark hair on Derek's chest and
purrs when the man's left hand strokes down his back.
A few seconds later, the laughter from out in the hall tapers off and put-out
murmurs follow.
Derek smirks, happy to have deprived who he thinks is Erica of any more
eavesdropping. He thinks briefly that he'll have to give the girl yet another
talking to the next day, bringing her total to six. She'll probably never stop
being a mischievous little shit, but he's not going to be the one to call it
quits first. Stiles' hand groping the top of his ass and making a quiet noise
of distress brings him back inside the room.
"What exactly are you doing?" he asks.
"I was looking for your tail 'cause it's so fluffy, but I can't find it..." the
boy whimpers sadly, stopping his nuzzling to stare up at Derek with suddenly
wet eyes. "Where'd it go? Did it fall off?"
"Uhh, no?" Derek answers, his body shaking gently as he tries to stop himself
from laughing. He lets go of Stiles' broken arm now that it looks like he's
settled and isn't in danger of hurting himself and brushes his thumbs across
the boy's cheeks, catching the two drops of moisture that have fallen. "I only
have a tail when I'm in my wolf form, remember? The one you helped me with? I'm
human again now, so no tail for you. It's nothing to cry over, love." Honestly,
he thinks it's kind of adorable, and his body stops shaking as he calms down
again and a fond smile appears on his lips as he watches Stiles try really hard
to understand his words.
His eyes no longer shining from tears, Stiles pouts a little before resting his
cheek back on Derek's furry chest. "Oh... That's a shame. I wanted to cuddle
it... 'S fluffy," he mumbles, wiggling in place a little to get more
comfortable. The sheets are trapped beneath his left hip but he can't be
bothered to free them.
"I'm afraid you'll just have to settle for cuddling my human body," Derek says.
Stiles' response is a quiet snore.
Sleep well, you little idiot, Derek thinks, closing his own eyes.
                                     * * *
- Thursday, September 27th, 2012 -
The next morning finds Stiles and Derek standing in the bathroom. The alpha
wears a frown on his face as he stares into the shower stall, and Stiles waits
behind him and rolls his eyes. "Can we hurry this along, please? I feel really
gross and I'd really like to get clean already," he says, breaking the silence.
The morphine has all left his system overnight and his mind is now completely
clear, which is both a good and a bad thing. The good of it is that he can
think clearly, and the way Derek kept glancing over at him while they lay in
bed earlier led him to the conclusion that he must have said some pretty
colourful things while he was still feeling loopy. The bad is that he can feel
every bruise and sore muscle of his body, and his broken arm twinges painfully
whenever he forgets about it and moves it too quickly. There are still traces
of dirt and dust on his arms, face and neck and blood dried in his hair from
the previous afternoon's battle, and all of it makes his skin itch
unpleasantly. He taps his foot while he waits, and if he had a watch on his
wrist he'd be looking down at it to check just how long Derek has been standing
in front of him, doing nothing. "Seriously, Der, what's the hold-up?"
"I'm thinking..." the man replies quietly, glancing back over his shoulder. A
second later he turns and walks right past Stiles and out through the door,
telling the boy to stay there while he goes to collect a couple of things.
After a quick trip down to the kitchen he returns holding a couple of plastic
bags and a roll of duct tape. "Hold out your arm. We've got to wrap the cast to
stop it from getting wet."
Doing just that, Stiles waits patiently as Derek works, and as soon as the last
strip of tape is stuck down—he knows pulling it off later is going to be a
bitch—he's tearing off his underwear and entering the shower.
Following his mate, Derek turns on the water and holds his hand under the spray
to gauge the temperature, only stepping aside when it heats up to what he
thinks is the right level. He keeps the process quick and efficient, taking
over with pleasure all of the things Stiles cannot do himself.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Stiles asks.
Derek freezes for a second, his hands hovering over wet, pale skin.
"Yeah, you're enjoying this."
Shaking his head, Derek resumes soaping up Stiles' back. He can practically
hear the smirk in the boy's voice. "Am I that obvious?" he responds quietly,
his own lips curving into a smile when Stiles hums his affirmative. They both
lapse back into silence for the remainder of the shower, and if his mate
cottons on to the fact that he's prolonging it a little, keeping his movements
slow and unhurried, he is glad that Stiles doesn't comment on it. His hair is
the last thing to be washed, and Derek tips Stiles' head back as he massages
the shampoo into the silky strands and scratches his short nails gently against
his scalp.
He feels arousal stirring in his gut at the quiet noise of ecstasy Stiles lets
out, but he doesn't pay it any attention. "There, all done," he says when the
last of the lather is washed down the drain and Stiles' body is completely
clean and smelling of cinnamon. He fits the shower head back into its holder
and wraps his arms around the boy from behind, nuzzling into the side of his
neck with a short growl.
"You OK there, Sourwolf?" Stiles asks with a hint of laughter, tilting his head
to the side to give Derek better access and linking their fingers together
where they rest over his stomach.
Derek's answer is just to growl again, this one sounding less urgent. It's
softer, more contented.
Stiles chuckles. "You're adorable."
                                     * * *
Later, once Derek and Stiles are both dried off and dressed in fresh
clothes—Derek in a pair of jeans and a deep purple tank top that stretches
ridiculously across his broad chest, and Stiles in a pair of blue chinos and
one of Derek's old shirts, soft and baggy on his frame—they leave the solitude
of their bedroom and go downstairs.
The sight of the living room is quite shocking in the light of day.
They were both too caught up in their relief that Cora was alive again—and
later on, Stiles was too out of it and Derek was too busy trying to keep him on
his feet—to really see it properly before. Now, though, they both see every
detail, from the blackened sofa and carpet to the piles of ash they think used
to be books. All of the DVD and Blu-ray cases are mangled and the discs
themselves don't look like they'll play ever again. Nothing in the room looks
salvageable, and Stiles swallows down his guilt when Derek steps away from him
to look at it all more closely, knowing once more that the feeling is useless.
Eventually, when the acrid smell of it becomes too much, Derek leaves the room
behind him and goes into the kitchen instead, aware that Stiles is following
him. He gets out two bowls, an opened box of Cheerios, two spoons, and the milk
from the fridge before settling in at the island to eat his breakfast. "What
happened in there?" he asks in between mouthfuls when Stiles takes the stool
next to him.
"You remember that vision you came with me on?" the boy starts.
Derek nods.
"Well, just as I was leaving to catch up with you guys, let's just say that I
got split in half or something. Like, the darkness Elizabeth tainted my magic
with turned into that other version of me, the one that looked like I did when
I was possessed by the Nogitsune," Stiles continues, keeping his eyes on his
bowl for the most part. He glances up at Derek every couple of seconds, though,
to keep track of how the alpha is taking his recounting. "I knew I'd have to
beat it if I wanted to get to you—talk about battling your inner demons,
huh?—and the living room kinda got fucked up by a poorly aimed fireball.
There's also a massive hole a little ways outside, on the edge of the back
yard, from where I got uppercutted through the ceiling of the basement."
He hastens to clarify when Derek's eyes widen in shock. "Don't worry, I'm fine!
I'd done that thing you told me Landon did when you tried to avenge Jeremy's
murder, so I came out of that with just a broken arm."
Allowing the tension to seep out of his body, Derek sighs in relief and
finishes the last of his breakfast, holding the rim of the bowl up to his lips
and drinking down the sweetened milk left at the bottom. "Don't worry about it.
We can get it all fixed up again and it'll be looking good as new in no time."
"True dat," Stiles chuckles.
"You're an idiot..." Derek sighs, shaking his head.
"And you, my gorgeous hunk of a man, love it." They kiss chastely.
The next couple of hours are spent clearing everything out of the living room.
After Derek goes and gets a large skip—he refuses to answer when Stiles hounds
him about where he got it from—he glares the boy into submission and, after
Stiles seems adamant about watching, makes him sit and stay on a stool he
brings through from the kitchen—"Don't try to deprive me of a chance to see you
all sweaty, Der. That wouldn't be very nice." He doesn't want Stiles to
accidentally screw up his arm or put any unnecessary strain on his bruised
ribs, especially not since he'll have his hands full and won't be able to
siphon off any of the pain. Isaac and Danny make a reappearance when he's about
halfway through, and they make the rest of the process speed along much faster.
Before they know it, the carpet has been pulled and rolled up, with Danny
carrying it outside, and Isaac is sweeping up the last of the ash from the
hardwood floor beneath. There is some fire damage to the boards, too, but Derek
thinks that if he sands them down a bit they might not need to be
replaced—he'll figure it out later. Perhaps he'll leave it like that. He has
always liked the idea of having hardwood floors.
When the house was first built, his decision to have carpet instead was to
distinguish it a bit more from how the room used to look, his old hangups from
the fire preventing him from feeling comfortable with having things too
similar. Since he started working through more of his emotions and fears with
the help of Sheila Morris, his mom's old therapist, he knows he can handle it
now.
"So what're you gonna do until you get this place redone?" Danny asks as he
comes back inside, brushing his hands together to rid them of the ash he got on
them from carrying the rolled-up carpet.
Derek hums thoughtfully before coming to a decision.
"It won't take very long, but in the mean time I'll just take a couple of
mattresses from your rooms and use those," he says with a smile, heading
through to the foyer and ascending the stairs to do just that. He returns a
minute later carrying them over his shoulder, not even breaking a sweat, much
to Stiles' disappointment.
He tosses them down in the centre of the bare living room floor with two dull
thumps.
"Lydia will love that," Danny smirks.
"All the better." Derek bumps fists obligingly with the Hawaiian.
                                     * * *
Said girl shows up at the house with the rest of the pack in tow a couple of
hours after Derek, Stiles and the two betas get settled. All of them but Stiles
are a little sweaty now—which made Stiles happy, in Derek's case—because, since
they were already doing some renovations, Derek suggested that they finally
take care of the blood-stained carpet upstairs in his and Stiles' room. The
idea was met with a few reservations because it would be more difficult to get
everything out of the way to pull the carpet up, but with all the wolves
working together it didn't actually take that long. The bed frame was the most
tricky thing to take care of—Derek didn't want to go through the trouble of
disassembling it when he'll just be putting it back together shortly, but he
relented and went to get his tools when a quick calculation told him that there
was no possible way it would fit through the doorway.
"You fancy hardwood floors in here, too?" Derek asked Stiles when the carpet
was all gone. The floorboards beneath the blood patch were also stained darker
than the surrounding ones, so he hopes replacing them will be reasonably easy
if necessary. "It would save us having to vacuum the carpet every week."
Stiles hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think that'd be nice."
Derek smiles.
He follows the boy back downstairs, where Danny and Isaac are.
As soon as Lydia walks through the front door and sees what awaits her, she
stops in her tracks and eyes the living room's new minimalist decor with
disgust. Derek and Stiles are reclined on one of the mattresses, the boy's head
pillowed once more on the alpha's chest, while Danny and Isaac are sat side by
side on the other, playing a series of games of Rock-Paper-Scissors. "You don't
honestly expect me to sit on one of those, do you?" she asks haughtily,
storming right past Derek and on into the kitchen when the man nods.
Everyone else but Allison gathers in the living room without complaint. Scott
sits on the floor and takes a lengthly inhale for dramatic effect before
speaking. "Deaton is safe, by the way," he announces, looking pleased with
himself when Derek and Stiles both perk up. "Yeah, I got him out earlier today
after I remembered what Elizabeth said about keeping him in her basement. He's
doing good, I think."
"Oops..." Stiles whispers contritely. With everything else that was going on,
he'd completely forgotten that the vet was being held captive. "Is he mad that
we left him there for so long?"
Scott shakes his head. "Nah, he understood when I told him what happened to you
guys, so you're good," he replies, taking a steaming mug of coffee off of the
tray that Allison brings into the room a second later. He takes his first sip
gratefully, needing a dose of caffeine because he was up for most of the night,
wired.
"Thank the Lord..." Stiles breathes.
The next second, all the betas' heads snap to the side and they all stare
intently through the window.
"Uh, guys? What's with the meerkat impressions?" Stiles asks.
"Someone else is coming," Derek informs the boy, gently pushing him off so that
he can sit up and watch the window with the rest of his pack. He waits on bated
breath for the car he can hear approaching in the distance to get closer and
come into view, and when it does he doesn't know what he feels. It's what he
recognises as Elizabeth's car, and he can see Charlie sitting behind the
steering wheel, fiddling nervously with her messy hair as she looks up at the
house in obvious trepidation. "I wonder what she's doing here..."
When the girl exits her mother's car, he stands and walks to the front door,
anticipating her knock. It comes a few seconds later and he reaches for and
turns the handle to reveal her standing on the other side. She still looks
scared and like she hasn't slept, but he doesn't change his stony expression,
nor does he plan on doing so until he's given an explanation for her surprise
appearance. "What do you want?" he enquires gruffly.
Stiles and the betas listen intently for Charlie's reply.
The girl takes a deep breath before opening her mouth. Her voice comes out
shaky, but everyone can tell that she's trying to push through her nerves and
knows that it must have taken a lot of courage to show her face again so soon.
"I wanted to explain and apologise for everything that's happened," the girl
says, holding her head high under Derek's unrelenting scrutiny. The previous
afternoon's battle has changed something in her. She doesn't want to be weak
any more or be made a victim ever again, so while she wants to be remorseful,
she also wants to come across as strong, someone who's worthy of forgiveness.
That much she allows herself to hope for. After a full ten seconds of them
staring at each other without another word, Derek moves aside to let her in and
she follows him through to the living room, a shocked gasp slipping out when
she sees the state it's in. She chooses not to comment on it. Everyone eyes her
suspiciously as she walks past them to stand in front of the burned fireplace
and readies herself to begin, and she finds herself avoiding Jackson's and
Scott's gazes, which are both particularly judgemental. "Right, so...I'm not
really sure how to start this."
Taking pity on her, Stiles waits for Derek to retake his place beside him
before clearing his throat. "Maybe if you tell everyone everything that led to
you coming to town? I've already relayed everything you told me, but it'll
probably sound better coming from you," he suggests, crossing his legs to get
comfortable.
Everyone else stays quiet.
Stiles smiles encouragingly at Charlie.
"Um, s-sure..." she stutters, cursing herself for already crumbling under
pressure. "I didn't know this part until a few days ago, but I guess it all
started back when I was nine, with my dad's death."
Detail by detail, she recounts all of the events that brought her to Beacon
Hills, from her mother's descent into dark magic to her dad's murder to all the
lies she was fed and made to believe. She doesn't play anything up for
sympathy, just tells it exactly as she remembers it. She knows she doesn't want
to even try to manipulate Stiles' pack into forgiving her. If she's going to
get it, it'll be genuine, because they want to.
And if not... She doesn't let her mind wander into that upsetting territory.
She looks out through the living room window, which for the most part seems to
have miraculously survived whatever fire took out the rest of the room. The
frames are blackened, but the glass looks fine, clear, if a bit ashy. "I don't
know what my mom did to me—must've been some memory spell or something—but I
didn't know about what really happened to my dad until she started telling me
about it after I said I wanted out and all the memories came flooding back
suddenly, like a series of photographs.
"And then she did that spell to me and actually physically made me do her
bidding with a snap of her fingers..." She shudders at the memory, the feeling
of true helplessness. "I didn't want to help her and Holly sap the Nemeton's
powers, and I definitely didn't want to hurt any of you guys any more than I
already had.
"But there was nothing I could to stop it." She faces the pack again. "I'm
sorry."
Things are quiet for a while as everyone thinks over Charlie's story. Some of
the pack members have looks of understanding on their faces, though she doesn't
know whether to take that as a sign of her apology being accepted just yet. A
couple of the others still look unsure, disbelieving. Jackson and Scott in
particular seem to be holding on tightly to their anger, and she can't find it
in herself to blame them. If their positions were reversed, she honestly
doesn't know what her own reaction would be. She likes to think she'd be
forgiving but knows she has a vengeful streak—evidenced by her willingness to
help her mother at the start.
"I'm not buying it," Jackson says eventually, breaking the silence. He stands
from his spot next to Lydia and glares at Charlie with open dislike. "One
apology doesn't make up for everything you've done to us."
Scott nods along but doesn't speak.
Lydia doesn't try to silence her boyfriend. She looks dubious herself.
Charlie closes her eyes in defeat and doesn't bother trying to refute Jackson's
hate-filled words.
It didn't take much for Stiles to be swayed definitively into the Forgiveness
column, so he knows he has to say something to defend the girl. "Now, hold on,
guys," he starts, getting to his own feet and walking over to stand next to
Charlie in a show of support. She stares at him, wide-eyed, and he smiles back
at her.
He returns his gaze to the rest of the pack. "I know it's difficult to get past
all of that, and I don't really want to dredge all of this back up, but she's
not the first person to hurt this pack that we've ended up forgiving," he
points out, his eyebrows raised imploringly. "While he was a kanima, Jackson
hurt and killed a bunch of people, some of whom I'd known for years from
visiting my dad at the station.
"Allison helped her uncle kidnap and torture you two," he looks specifically at
Erica and Boyd, who have remained silent, their faces impassive this whole
time, "while she was still under the impression that Derek bit her mom
deliberately. And let's not forget about everything I did while the Nogitsune
had control of my body, all the blood that's on my hands, even if I had no say
in the matter. You've managed to look past all of that and be friends with us
again, so why is this any different? Sure, Charlie took part willingly in the
beginning, but like she and I have said, she realised she wasn't doing the
right thing eventually and tried to turn things around before her mom got her
claws into her and stopped her from coming to us for help."
He feels relief when Jackson starts to look regretful.
"So, she's here now, saying that she's sorry and I believe her." He turns to
the girl in question and happily announces, "I forgive you, Charlie," as he
pulls her into a tight hug, hoping that it will get the ball rolling for the
others to do the same. As he pulls back, he sees that Derek is now standing
beside them.
Derek has never been close enough to Charlie to feel comfortable embracing the
girl like his mate has just done, so he sticks out a hand for her to shake
instead, a sign that he holds no grudges.
Stiles kisses him gratefully on the cheek when it's done.
His ears turn pink.
One by one, the rest of the pack get up from their various places around the
room and follow Derek's lead, though somewhat more awkwardly—Jackson's
handshake is especially painful to watch, and he keeps his eyes averted from
Charlie the whole time before going back to sit down beside Lydia. Cora is the
last one to approach Charlie, and they look at each other, silently
communicating with nothing but their eyes before they hug. It's bittersweet for
Cora because Charlie is the first person she's been attracted to in any way
since she was saved from the Alpha Pack and she knows without having to ask
that the other girl won't be sticking around. Everyone else looks away, feeling
like continuing to look at the two of them would be an invasion of privacy. The
two girls don't exchange any words as they step away from each other again, and
before anyone else can say anything, Cora disappears from the room, retreating
to the solitude of her bedroom to think. No one moves to try and give the
youngest Hale any comfort, not even her brother because, even though they love
each other, they're really not that close any more and he wouldn't know what to
say.
The sound of her door slamming shut echoes down the stairs. It carries a sense
of finality with it.
"Well...I guess there's not really anything left to say," Charlie says,
breaking the silence and bringing everyone back into the room. "It was nice
getting to know all of you, and once again, I'm sorry for my part. Maybe I'll
see you again sometime. Until then: c'ya." She cuts through the crowd and walks
back into the foyer, to the front door, and she almost gets her hand on the
handle before she hears footsteps.
"Where will you go?" Stiles asks curiously after a pointed look back at his
pack to get them to stay where they are. He sees Derek glare at them all to
back him up before he turns back to hear Charlie's answer.
Her hand still hovering above the door handle, the girl smiles, touched that
Stiles is still so concerned for her. "I looked through my mom's stuff after
Mr. Argent accompanied me home and found her phone," she explains, finally
touching the handle when her arm gets tired. "Apparently, my grandmother—my
dad's mom—is still alive, another thing my mom lied to me about. I called her
and told her everything that happened and she booked me the first flight out of
here. It leaves later today. She used to live a couple of towns over from us
back in Florida but she moved up to Canada after dad died and mom cut off all
contact with her, so..."
"Oh..." Stiles says, unable to come up any other reply.
"Yeah, northern Saskatchewan, of all places."
"Don't freeze to death," Stiles warns with a short laugh, joking to mask his
sadness.
Charlie smiles again, warmly. "I'll try not to. I'll get all my winter gear
out," she promises, gasping in surprise when Stiles pulls her into another hug,
this one much tighter. She doesn't know what to make of it, how to react other
to wrap her own arms around the boy's body in return.
"Stay in touch, OK? I wanna know how you get on up there," he requests
hoarsely, feeling stupid when his eyes start watering. They didn't know each
other for that long a time but he still feels like he's losing someone
important from his life, and he knows that he'll miss her a lot. After taking a
few more seconds, he releases her and blinks rapidly. "Do you, uh...do you need
a ride to the airport?"
Back in the living room, Jackson laughs derisively at Stiles' display of
emotion. He deems it stupid and a little pathetic, but he shuts up quickly when
Lydia slaps him up the back of his head and Derek growls at him threateningly,
red eyes boring into his. He notices that everyone else is glaring at him,
too—Scott and Isaac appear particularly annoyed with him—so he looks down at
his lap and mimes zipping up his lips to get them all to stop. He's got
everyone wrapped around his finger... What an ass, he thinks.
"Nah, I got it," Charlie replies.
Nodding, Stiles steps back to allow the girl to open the door and finally take
her leave. "Take care of yourself!" he shouts from the doorway as he watches
her start up her mother's old car.
When she starts backing up and away, he waves and shuts the door after she's
out of sight. He feels sad, so he clears his throat and tries to shake the
feeling off because he doesn't want to bring everyone else down with him. They
won yesterday's battle and they should be celebrating, and, as far as
valedictions go, Charlie's was a pretty good one, he supposes. He's grateful
that they were all able to part on good terms. After his eyes are dry he
reenters the living room and smiles at everyone when they pretend like they
weren't hanging on every word he and Charlie exchanged. "So, what do you guys
feel like doing now?" he asks casually.
"Well, we've got almost four full days until school starts back up," Lydia
reminds them all, tilting her head to the side contemplatively. She smiles when
she comes up with what she thinks is the perfect idea. "Let's go out and grab
some lunch, as a pack, if we can coax Cora out of her room again."
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
After a long lunch with the pack—Cora eventually deigned to grace them again
with her presence after much pestering—Stiles and Derek return to their home
alone. Stiles isn't sad about it being just the two of them, though. Quite the
contrary, in fact, it seems like the perfect turn of events to him. After how
tiring the past couple of months have been, the last week especially, getting
some downtime with his wonderful mate seems like just the remedy his exhausted
body and soul need.
He collapses on the sofa with a grateful groan and rubs his distended stomach.
"I'm never eating that much again..." he lies, his eyes slipping closed. "Why
didn't you stop me after the second pancake?"
"I didn't want my hand bitten off," Derek replies.
"Isn't that your department?"
Rolling his eyes, Derek leaves Stiles where he is and goes into the kitchen. He
switches on the kettle, intent on making them both a cup of tea with which they
can wind down. The sound of talking filters through from the living room,
sentences cutting off and new ones starting midway through every couple of
seconds, and Derek assumes that Stiles has gotten restless already and is
currently flicking through the TV channels out of boredom. He shakes his head
as he gets two teabags and plops them in each mug before filling them both up
near the brim with water. "Legs," he says when he returns, waiting for Stiles
to get his feet off of the coffee table so that he can walk past and take his
usual spot on the sofa next to the boy.
Stiles makes grabby hands for his mug and holds it gratefully between his palms
to warm them. "Thanks," he says as he takes his first sip, going slow because
it's still so hot. He smiles when the familiar taste of Sleepytime herbal tea
hits his tongue. "You know me so well... Best mate ever."
The rest of the afternoon is spent in a similar fashion.
Neither one of them has enough energy to do anything else, and soon enough they
both find themselves reclined across the length of the sofa, Derek on his back
and Stiles on his right side, wedged between the back of the sofa and the wolf.
It's a little weird because they're lying the opposite way round to how they
normally do to save Stiles' broken arm from being crushed—he has it thrown
across Derek's stomach instead.
Soon enough, after they've whiled away several hours and the sun is beginning
to descend, the scenes playing out on screen lose Stiles' interest and his mind
starts to wander to other things.
He goes back to the previous afternoon, to Derek's transformation and what
little he remembers of it. "Can I see it?" he asks out of the blue, the words
slipping out before he can stop them. It's too late to take them back—and he
doesn't really want to anyway—so he picks his head up off of Derek's chest and
peers down at the man's face. He finds his wolf staring back up at him with an
eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding what he means. "Your new wolf form.
Can I see it, now that I can actually focus on things properly?"
"Why?" Derek counters, reluctant to move.
"I'm curious." Stiles makes his eyes big and round as he begs. "Please?"
"You're such a child sometimes..."
Stiles ignores the comment and gladly levers himself up to sitting to allow his
mate to get out from under him. He watches as Derek glances toward the open
living room window and follows when the man suggests they take it upstairs to
their bedroom, almost dancing around his heels in his excitement.
The door is firmly shut behind them and the curtains are subsequently pulled
closed for privacy.
"Do you need my magic again?" Stiles asks after Derek has continued to stand at
the window without doing anything for almost a full minute. When the wolf
shakes his head and replies that he doesn't think so, Stiles takes a seat on
the foot of the bed to watch the show, the best seat in the house, he mentally
declares. The air is practically vibrating with nervous energy as Derek finally
moves and begins to undress.
"No sense in destroying any more of my clothes..." the alpha mutters.
As Derek reaches for the hem of his Henley and pulls it off over his head,
revealing his toned torso, he snorts when he hears Stiles wolf-whistle. When
the garment is off completely, he balls it up and throws it at the boy's head,
a pleased smirk appearing on his lips when Stiles keeps hold of it and smooths
it out on his lap like it's precious to him. It makes him feel precious, too.
Next go his jeans and socks, and he kicks them carelessly across the room
without a second thought before curling his fingers around the waistband of his
boxer-briefs. He keeps Stiles' eyes as he bends his knees and pushes this last
piece of clothing down his legs, leaving him bared completely to the boy. He
never stops getting a thrill out of the way Stiles looks at him when he's like
this. His jocular mood, which served as a front for the nerves he feels, fades
when he realises that he has no other steps with which to stall before he
changes form. The first time wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, all of his
bones breaking and reforming, so he's not eager to relive it. Even so, he takes
a deep breath and reaches for the wolf inside, letting it come to the surface
gradually.
Like before, his beta form comes on first, and after that, when it wants to
keep going, he lets it. There is definitely pain there but it's surprisingly
not as bad as it was the day before. The worst part is the initial breaking of
his bones, but thanks to his werewolf healing it quickly passes.
The process is longer than he remembers.
He thinks there are two possible reasons for that: either it's because he
doesn't have Stiles' magic infused into every cell of his body, helping him
along, or he was too shocked the first time to pay proper attention to it all.
As it is, this time he knows every little detail that changes, every new hair
that grows from his skin to form fur, every tooth that becomes more pointed,
more deadly, his tail as it sprouts from his tailbone. By the end, he's left
panting as his stands on four legs, the floorboards feeling extra smooth
beneath his paws.
Stiles is equally as breathless. He's entranced by Derek's transformation,
watching as he falls from two limbs to four as his body changes. Oddly enough,
it's still not scary to him and, when it's over, he just has to stand from his
seat on the bed to get a closer look. Derek's shirt falls to the floor
unnoticed, and he's careful as he sinks to his knees in front of his mate's new
form.
Derek doesn't know how to interpret Stiles' silence.
The fact that the boy didn't go screaming and running in the other direction is
a good sign, though, so when they're close enough he takes a tentative step
forward and bumps their noses together.
"Wow..." Stiles breathes reverently, wiping absentmindedly at his nose when
Derek's leaves it feeling cold. While he'd suspected that Derek's new form
would be magnificent—it's Derek, so how could it not be?—he never thought he'd
be left as awestruck as he is now. Derek's eyes are their alpha red, a
constant, seemingly brighter red than they've ever been, and there's an
intelligence behind them which clearly tells him that his mate is still there,
behind the fangs. He reaches out a hand and places it on top of the wolf's
head, right between his pointed ears, and curls his fingers through his fur.
It's surprisingly silky and darker than the night sky.
Stiles feels overwhelmed.
It's like he's falling in love all over again.
He smiles softly and moves closer so that their foreheads touch, replacing his
hand. "You're beautiful," he says simply, chuckling and flailing away when he
feels a rough, wet tongue run up the side of his face. He rolls over on to his
back and feigns protests as Derek continues licking him like an
overenthusiastic puppy.
"OK, uncle! Uncle!" Stiles gasps when it becomes too much. He rubs at the
cooling and drying saliva on his cheek as he pushes gently at Derek with his
broken arm, knowing that using it in a capacity like that will immediately get
the wolf to back away for fear of his safety. It works, predictably, and the
fond smile is back on his lips when Derek noses at his cast with a quiet whine.
"Relax, Sourwolf, I'm fine."
Not taking Stiles' word for it, Derek continues his inspection until he comes
to that conclusion himself, at which point he lowers himself down until he
covers the boy completely with his new body.
"Damn, you're heavy!" Stiles comments.
Derek huffs and refuses to move, perfectly comfortable.
"Is that your tail?"
Picking his head up again, Derek turns to look over his shoulder and feels
embarrassment when he sees that his tail is wagging from side to side, a clear
sign of his happiness. He tries to stop it but it refuses to cooperate. It's
like it has a mind of its own, and that's something he resolves to work on in
the future.
Eventually he gives up trying, and he's about to go back to his previous
position when his world suddenly tilts and he finds himself lying on his back
with Stiles perched over him instead. He stares up at the boy in confusion and
is about to wriggle back over and onto his feet when his eyes roll back in his
head, a wonderful sensation overtaking him. Faintly, he hears giggling but
can't be bothered to stop himself as his eyes close and his mouth opens lazily,
long tongue hanging out the side as he pants in pleasure.
"Now I can give you real belly rubs... Yeah, you like that, don't cha, you big
strong alpha, you?" Stiles croons, using his able hand to rub up and down
across Derek's belly and barrel chest, adding in the occasional scratch of his
short nails. He's a little shocked that Derek is allowing him to do this but is
grateful for it nevertheless. The way the wolf's front paws are curled up in
the air is particularly adorable.
After a while, though, the muscles of his arm start to ache and he has to stop.
Derek is disappointed and whines for more.
Stiles gives the wolf one last rub before sitting back on his heels. "Sorry,
big guy, but that's all I can do for now," he says sadly, rotating his shoulder
and grunting as the movement stretches his muscles.
Since he won't be getting any more belly rubs for the time being, Derek flips
himself over onto his front like he was trying to do before Stiles interrupted
him and thinks about changing back to human. He's just closing his eyes and
trying to get his wolf to recede when he feels a finger tap him a couple of
times on the end of his nose, so he opens them again and stares up at his mate
impatiently. He sits back on his haunches and tilts his head to the side—it's
such a puppy-like move, one he's seen time and again from his betas, and he's a
little mortified that he's started doing it now, too—as he watches Stiles begin
to get undressed, confused. When the boy gets onto the bed and pats the
mattress next to him he still doesn't know what to make of it, but because he
can't exactly open his mouth and ask what's going on just yet, he simply hops
up where Stiles wants him and waits for the teen's next move. The sheets are
pulled out from under the both of them as Stiles shuffles a little further down
the bed, and a second later his mate is pushing him gently over on to his side
so that he's lying down, too, and the sheets come down over them. He thinks he
hears something about it being nap time.
Derek just goes with it as Stiles pulls him closer and tucks his face into the
fur of his long neck, releasing a contented murmur that sounds suspiciously
like, "Snuggly wolf..." followed by a quiet snore. Huffing, Derek curls himself
around his mate's sleeping form as best he can and closes his own eyes.
                                     * * *
- Saturday, December 15th, 2012 -
It's been two and a half months since Derek killed Elizabeth and Holly, and
Charlie left.
When he wakes up early, Stiles lies in bed for over an hour and just watches
Derek sleep on peacefully next to him, letting his mind wander back over the
past four months. He finds it hard to believe that so much time has already
passed. To him, it seems like it's only been a couple of weeks at most, and
he's only just beginning to let it sink in and process it all. He's been kept
busy with school, and he almost allowed himself to slip into the fantasy that
his life is normal. Only the staring he got from the other students reminded
him that it was all real.
Everyone was curious about the nasty-looking cut on his head and the cast on
his arm, but luckily they were appeased with the simple excuse that his
clumsiness once again got the better of him. He has a new Chemistry teacher,
one who is thankfully much nicer than Ms. Adler and doesn't pick on anyone.
It's refreshing.
The novelty of his injuries wore off after a while, much to his relief, and he
was able to walk the halls with his pack without anyone paying him any more
attention that usual.
The day after Charlie left, at around one o'clock in the afternoon, Deaton had
stopped by the house unexpectedly to explain a few things. When Scott got him
out of Elizabeth's basement and told him everything that had happened and all
they'd found out from the woman herself, he came to some conclusions. Of
course, in typical Deaton fashion, from the start he knew more than he let on,
not about Elizabeth's true intentions but about what was happening with Stiles'
magic and Derek's often restless wolf. Because of their mating bond, as Stiles'
powers grew in strength, Derek's wolf was given some of that power, too, and as
it grew stronger it got more excited for what it knew was to come. This was
why, every so often, Derek would feel so keyed up that he wouldn't be able to
sleep. Deaton informed them that eventually Derek's wolf would have been able
to reach its full potential and give him the ability to shift into a proper
wolf all on its own, but because Stiles lent him all of his magic the process
was sped along to its end, making him one of the most powerful alphas in the
United States. He's even stronger than his mother had been, at least according
to Deaton.
Derek didn't know how to take this information, so he stayed silent.
After that, Deaton had left again.
Like Derek thought it would be, the new living room was easy to sort out. He
took Stiles on another trip to Ikea—making sure to leave Lydia out of it this
time—and gave him free reign to choose whatever furniture he wanted. His only
stipulation was that he not choose any garish colours. They ended up with a
large chocolate brown L-shaped sofa, a couple of matching arm chairs, and an
old-looking dark wood coffee table. On the way home after setting it all up to
be delivered the next morning, they stopped off at the local electronics store
and got a brand-new flatscreen television, complete with surround sound
speakers, and a Blu-ray player to keep Stiles happy—"High def is the only way
to go, Sourwolf, and you know it."
To prep for the delivery, as soon as they arrived back home Derek did some
research and started preparing the hardwood floors, stripping and buffing and
waxing them so that they were all smooth and nice. Stiles was highly amused by
the sight of his wolf using a floor buffer.
After that, they waited for the wax to dry and, the next day, when Derek
determined that the floor was ready, he got Jackson and Boyd over to the house
to help him assemble the new furniture.
Both he and Stiles actually prefer the new room to how it looked before it got
burned up.
Things have settled back down to a good place now, Stiles thinks, and he's
happy with where his life is. Like she promised, Charlie has been emailing him
every week without fail, giving him updates on how she's doing up in Canada. It
took her a while but he's under the impression now that she's comfortable
there, especially without the toxic influence of her mother. He's happy for
her, too.
He always writes back as soon as he can. They've shared some laughs whenever
he's updated her on things that have happened around town or to the pack, like
something stupid Jackson has said or done or the time when he walked in on
Scott, Allison and Kira while they were in the middle of having sex. He
shudders as the image worms its way into his brain again. They were such close
friends for years that he's unfortunately seen Scott's junk more than once in
the past, but each time is no less horrifying than the last.
All three of them had been incredibly apologetic after the fact—Allison had
never turned such a deep shade of red—and Stiles begged them to lock the door
next time so that it doesn't happen again.
Charlie got a real kick out of that one.
As far as Stiles knows, Charlie has also been keeping in touch with Cora. The
youngest Hale left her phone on the coffee table one evening, and he saw the
screen light up while he was watching something on the new television. He
couldn't resist glancing down at it and smiling at what he read.
Cora refused to say anything about it when he brought it up casually a few
minutes later, after she'd reentered the room with a fresh glass of grape juice
in hand. In fact, she'd snapped up her phone and stormed off to her bedroom,
yelling at him over her shoulder and suggesting that he keep his nose out of
other people's business. Whatever the two girls were talking about must have
been something quite private to get that sort of reaction, so Stiles let Cora
go without a reply, the smile still firmly on his lips. He and Derek had been
beginning to worry that Cora spent too much time on her own, and the find
assuaged those worries.
Stiles is brought out of his remembrances when Derek stirs next to him.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he greets when hazel eyes blink open to look blearily
into his own.
Derek grunts out a similar sentiment before burying his face in his pillow.
"Aww, is someone tired?"
"Shut up..." comes Derek's gruff reply, muffled by his pillow. He groans
quietly before rolling over on to his back and rubbing at his eyes with his
left hand, trying to keep his mind alert so he doesn't accidentally slip back
into unconsciousness. It's easier said than done, but luckily he has Stiles
there to keep him occupied. "What time is it?" he asks, tucking his hand
beneath his head when he finishes with it.
Glancing to his right at the clock on his nightstand, Stiles announces that
it's just gone eight in the morning, something that is evidenced by the sun
outside of the window. It's still low in the sky, illuminating the room to a
substantial degree but still keeping things dim enough that he doesn't feel bad
about staying in bed.
Returning his attention to his mate, Stiles is unable to resist such an
inviting sight and snuggles right up to Derek's side without another word.
Their legs tangle together automatically, and he hums contentedly when one of
Derek's feet begins stroking back and forth across one of his. "Did we have
anything planned for today? I can't remember..." he asks, concentrating on the
sound of Derek's heart beating away just under his ear. It's soothing, and that
combined with the smell of the man threatens to lull him under again.
"Not that I know of," Derek replies, turning his head to the side and pressing
his lips to Stiles' forehead. "I have some work to catch up on, but it won't
take all day, not even close."
"Mmm, think of the snuggling possibilities..." Stiles chuckles.
"If you're lucky."
Stiles snorts.
They stay lying exactly as they are for what seems like hours, and every now
and then they'll talk quietly about whatever topic comes to either of their
minds. For the most part, though, no words are exchanged. It's just two mates
spending time together, so comfortable in each other's company that nothing
needs to be said. Eventually, Derek does find his mind drifting, getting bored
and a little restless. He doesn't want to leave the bed just yet but knows that
he needs to channel this energy into something or else it'll just keep
building. The perfect solution comes to him and, without warning, he rolls to
his right so that Stiles ends up on his back instead and he is positioned
between the boy's spread legs, hovering above him. He preempts all the
questions he knows Stiles will ask by kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue
between parted lips and rolling his hips down so that their rapidly hardening
cocks rub together. The plan is to partake in some lazy morning sex, spending
as much time as he pleases taking Stiles apart and putting him back together
over and over again until something else gets in the way, whether that ends up
being a full bladder or a rumbling stomach.
Unfortunately, things never heat up more than that. Just as Derek is reaching
blindly for the topmost drawer in Stiles' bedside table to get the lube they
keep there, intent on opening Stiles up and making him come on his fingers
alone, they're brought out of the moment when the boy's phone blares loudly.
"Ignore it..." Derek whispers against Stiles' lips.
The phone mercifully stops ringing, and he just gets his hand around the lube
when it starts up again. He groans in frustration and rolls back over to his
side of the bed when Stiles pushes gently at his chest, throwing an arm over
his eyes and preparing to sulk petulantly at having his perfect plan for the
morning ruined. Still, he listens closely to the conversation Stiles has with
the voice on the other end of the line.
"Stiles, where the fuck are you?!"
Stiles has to hold his phone away from his ear because Lydia's voice is so
loud.
"It's already half nine! Did you forget we made plans as a pack to go shopping
or what? We've been waiting for you and Derek for over half an hour now, so get
your ass out of bed and meet us or else!"
After that, the call goes dead and Stiles is left staring down at the dark
screen a little guiltily. Lydia is right: he did completely forget that they
all planned on having a huge shopping trip that morning, in which they would
all buy their Christmas presents for each other. "Oops..." he says as he drops
his phone on to the sheets and flops back down with a groan. "Just when things
were getting good, too..." He allows himself another few seconds to lament the
orgasms that will never be before flinging the sheets back and getting
reluctantly out of bed. The cold hardwood floor shocks him because he's still
not used to not having carpet.
If it were up to him he'd stay right where he was and let Derek have his way
with him, but he doesn't want to incur Lydia's wrath. He values his and Derek's
lives too much for that. The banshee is probably already angry enough with the
two of them as it is, so he's quick to get washed, dressed and ready to go.
Derek isn't so swift.
The man lifts his arm and stares down his body at where the sheets are tented
at his crotch, sending a silent apology to his hard length as he waits for it
to go down again. He doesn't move until it does, even though it's just him and
Stiles in the room. Said boy rolls his eyes at him before leaving, and it's the
boy's whispered words of Lydia potentially cutting off his balls as punishment
that finally gets him up.
                                     * * *
About fifteen minutes later, they're at the mall.
Derek pulls up the parking brake and shuts off the engine of his Camaro. He's
thankfully managed to find a parking space near the front of the lot, and he
can already see Lydia glaring daggers at him from where she stands on the
pavement a short distance away. Bracing himself for whatever harsh words the
girl will no doubt spit at him as soon as he's close enough, he opens his door
and steps out, pretending to right his leather jacket on his shoulders while he
waits for Stiles to do the same.
If Stiles or anyone else suspects that the real reason he waited was because he
didn't want to face Lydia alone, then he's glad that they stay silent on the
subject when the distance between them is closed.
As far as he's seen, Stiles is the only one in the entire pack who stands a
chance of calming her down whenever she gets worked up. Not even Jackson is
qualified, though really he's more likely to be the one who riled her up in the
first place. Sure enough, as soon as he and Stiles are a few paces away, Lydia
is on them like a woman scorned, though she doesn't lay into him as much as he
was expecting.
"What the hell took you guys so long?!" she demands with her hands on her hips.
"Yeah, seriously, we've been waiting forever..." Cora adds.
The others nod their agreement.
"Sorry, guys. We got up late," Stiles excuses, morphing his expression into
something sympathetic as he rubs at the back of his neck in feigned shame.
Lydia narrows her eyes at him like she's searching for the truth, and he waits
on bated breath for whatever she says next, good or bad.
"Ugh, fine! Let's do this. Finally." She starts marching off toward the
entrance of the mall and looks back over her shoulder at Derek with the last
pointed word. The pack stays close behind her, letting her lead the way through
the throngs of other people milling about the large complex until they get to
the food court. "OK, let's split up into groups. I say couples sounds like a a
good plan—Cora, you can go with Erica and Boyd—and let's meet back up here in
two hours' time for lunch. Agreed?" She doesn't pause for an answer. "Good."
Curling her hand around Jackson's elbow, she drags the beta off without another
word.
A few seconds later, everyone else breaks off in their designated groups,
though in a less frantic fashion than Lydia and Jackson, leaving Derek and
Stiles standing alone in a sea of strangers.
Derek doesn't have the first clue about where to start buying gifts for
everyone, but before he can start to panic, something distracts him. The smell
of all the foods in the area make him salivate, reminding him that he didn't
have anything to eat before leaving the house earlier, and a quick glance tells
him that Stiles seems interested in getting some nourishment as well. "C'mon,
let's get something to eat before we start shopping for gifts," he suggests.
"If I'm going to get through this then I need some food."
He selflessly lets Stiles choose what they'll have.
Stiles gets in line in front of an independent stall that's right in the middle
of the area.
"Perfect," Derek approves as he reads the small menu.
Stiles smirks.
After their stomachs are filled—a greasy cheeseburger each, or in Derek's case,
three—they start meandering through the mall, glancing at all of the
storefronts they pass to see if anything interesting could be held within, just
waiting for their money. They end up circling around the whole complex a couple
of times before actually venturing into any of them and, when they do, Stiles
has to help Derek with his choices to such a degree that he just takes over
completely, leaving Derek to stand around like an idiot, twiddling his thumbs
and trying to look as innocuous as possible. After a particularly pricey ten
minutes spent in the GameStop, they come out with the last gifts they have to
buy, not counting the ones for each other. Stiles ended up picking out a couple
of games for each of the other boys, apart from Boyd since the quiet beta
doesn't really play video games. Derek carries the majority of the bags, once
again taking the opportunity to display just how strong he is, whereas Stiles
only carries a couple in his right hand. He'd tried to carry more than that,
but Derek refused to let him, stating that it would put undue strain on his
ribs.
The fact that his ribs have been unbound and perfectly fine for over a month
now doesn't seem to factor into Derek's reasoning at all, so Stiles just leaves
the man to it. It's also a plus that, since he's carrying so much, Derek had
complained of getting too hot and given his jacket to Stiles to wear instead,
and Stiles definitely enjoys surreptitiously drooling over the way the man's
biceps bulge as he carries most of the bags.
When they have just half an hour remaining before they have to meet up with the
others, Derek suggests they split off to try and select each other's gifts,
knowing that he'll need every second of that time.
He's panicking already.
Stiles agrees and hands over his bags when Derek asks for them.
Waiting until Stiles is out of sight first, Derek sets off for his car. He
dumps all of the presents in the backseat and covers them with the blanket he'd
used to shield the leather from any bodily fluids when he and Stiles made love
there about three and a half months ago. Time flies, he thinks.
                                     * * *
Twenty minutes later, Derek is getting desperate. Not even after a third trip
round the entire mall has he found anything he thinks Stiles would love. He
really wants his mate to love his gift, not just like it, wants to find the
perfect one, so with just ten minutes left until he's supposed to meet up with
all of the others he's at his wits' end. Just as he's considering caving in and
tracking down Lydia to ask for help, an idea hits him. It's one he's had in
passing before, quite recently in fact, but he didn't think the timing ever
felt right.
He's definitely reconsidering that grievous misstep in judgement now. Quickly,
he rushes toward the store by which he stands and enters, the bell above the
door jingling as he does so. All of the glass cases are a bit disconcerting, so
he goes right up to the jeweller to cut to the chase, unaware that they have an
audience.
                                     * * *
Lydia doesn't know what Derek is doing.
She split off from Jackson after getting tired of all of his whining and
happened upon Derek, who looked lost and like he was about to either cry or
shift out of frustration.
Before she could approach the man and offer a solution to whatever problem he's
experiencing—because she has all the answers, of course—he darted forward into
a shop she never would've thought he'd dare set foot in: the jewellery store.
It was the same one from which Stiles bought both of Derek's triskelion
necklaces, and the realisation ramped her curiosity up even more.
Following the man, she slipped in after him as carefully as she could manage
and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Derek was too caught up in his
discussion with the jeweller to notice her scent mingling with all the others
in the cramped room. Now, she stands off to the side and pretends to casually
peruse all of the glass cases while edging ever closer to Derek and the
jeweller, trying to listen in on what's being said. She prays that she's not
discovered before whatever the two men are talking about is resolved and smiles
to herself when she's able to get close enough to hear every word without being
spotted.
                                     * * *
After all of the details are ironed out, Derek feels pretty proud of himself.
That feeling lasts all of two seconds before he comes face-to-face with Lydia,
who stares at him with a knowing smirk on her lips. "How much did you hear?" he
asks warily, hoping that he'll be able to keep his secret from everybody until
he's ready but knowing from the girl's expression that it's pointless.
"So...that's what you're getting Stiles, huh?" Lydia asks, smirk turning into a
proper grin. She tails Derek when he walks right past her without replying, not
letting up on her pestering until he does.
It takes nearly the full walk back to the food court for Derek to relent, and
he turns around and growls at Lydia with a scowl so deep that it stops even her
in her footsteps. "Yes! That's what I'm getting Stiles, and I don't want you or
anyone else saying word to him about it before I do!" he commands, his eyes
flashing—dangerous considering they're in public—before he storms off again in
the direction of the food court.
Lydia is quick to get over her shock, smile creeping back on her red lips.
"There you are!" Jackson says, annoyed, when Derek appears with Lydia trailing
along behind.
"Where've you been? We've all been waiting for like, five minutes," Stiles
asks, his pleasant tone a clear indicator that he doesn't actually mind his
mate's lateness. It would be hypocritical of him, after all, because he's
sometimes terrible at showing up to things on time, too. He hides behind his
back the single bag he holds, which contains Derek's Christmas present, and
when he looks down at the wolf's hands out of curiosity, a frown appears on his
face when he can't see any bags on his person. "Where'd all the stuff go?"
"In the car," Derek replies.
Nodding his understanding, Stiles links their arms together happily.
"Alright, now that we're all here, let's get going to lunch!" Lydia commands,
turning on her heel and beginning to walk away, toward the mall exit. She
doesn't want to eat anything from there.
When they all get outside, Stiles hears her running through a list of options
for the others to choose from and knows he has to speak up before he gets
dragged along into it. "Actually..." he interrupts, keeping Derek firmly by his
side as the gap between them and the rest of the pack gets larger. Lydia pauses
and looks back at him impatiently. "We're gonna sit this one out, so... If
you'll excuse us, I'm gonna go do what I was planning on doing before you
called me and suck Derek's brains out through his dick. C'ya!"
Without another word he drags a dumbfounded Derek with him toward the Camaro.
"Get it, Stiles!" Isaac shouts after them.
Stiles throws back a wink.
                                     * * *
- Monday, December 17th, 2012 -
Stiles knows something strange is going on. He doesn't have any idea just what
that strange thing is, but he knows all the same. The day started out perfectly
normal—with Derek indulging in one of his matutinal workouts as he was leaving
the house—but it quickly devolved into the weirdest time he's had at school, at
least when there haven't been lives on the line. Every time they're near each
other, he keeps seeing Lydia and Erica with their heads bent together as they
giggle away, and every now and then they'll shoot him a sideways glance that's
always full of excitement. At first he tries to ignore it and stops by the
boys' bathroom at the start of lunch to check himself over in the mirror, just
in case the reason for the staring is that he has a piece of his breakfast on
his face or something, but no. He looks perfectly normal—the fact that his
definition of 'normal' now includes constant hickies on his neck isn't missed
by him, but Lydia and Erica already know full well who they're from so that
can't be the reason for their continuous giggling. Naturally, every time he
asks, they refuse to let him in on what has them so chipper, leaving him
annoyed and frustrated, and it just gets worse as the day goes on when others
in the pack start acting strangely, too:
Isaac keeps shooting him knowing smirks; Boyd, even though he still doesn't
speak much, does seem to look in his direction more than usual; Scott is
actually able to tear his attention away from Allison and Kira in order to
speak more than a couple of words to him; Cora keeps eyeing him speculatively,
though unlike the other girls and Isaac she doesn't smile once—she looks like
she's thinking hard.
Even Jackson doesn't seem like he's going out of his way to ignore him.
He knows there's no use in continuing to ask them what's going on, though, so
he just sits and stews in silence, picking at his lunch with disinterest and
trying to act like it doesn't bother him.
                                     * * *
The mystery only gets more mysterious when Stiles returns home later that
afternoon. Getting away from the pack and their relentless staring is a
definite relief, so when he exits his car and walks through the front door to
find Derek sitting on the middle of the sofa in living room, he's ready to
forget about it.
"Hey, Der," he greets as he enters the room. As soon as he speaks Derek jumps
up from his seat and turns to look at him with his hands held conspicuously
behind his back. The man's face is impassive, but Stiles knows his mate enough
to see that it's a little too impassive, meaning that he's overcompensating for
some other emotion he doesn't want showing. He eyes Derek suspiciously as he
walks around the sofa and frowns when Derek turns with each of his steps so
that they're always facing each other. "What's up with you?"
"What do you mean?" Derek counters, forcing an affable smile onto his lips.
It doesn't quite reach his eyes.
They remain a little tight at the corners, and Stiles is all of a sudden
officially, one-hundred percent done with everybody's shit. He takes a deep
breath before letting loose. "OK, seriously, what the fuck is going on today?!"
he yells angrily, wanting answers that he's determined to get. The way Derek's
eyes start to look like a kicked puppy's as he takes a step back doesn't stop
him. "First I get to school and Lydia and Erica are acting all giddy and
looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing they've seen all year, and
then everyone else starts joining in, all the while refusing to tell me just
what's so funny. And now you're acting squirrelly, too. Tell me what's going
on. Now." His tone brooks no argument.
"Stiles, really...there's nothing going on," Derek says carefully, his hand
tightening protectively around the object he still has hidden behind his back.
"Please, I want you to calm down."
Far from it, Stiles looks like he's fast becoming apoplectic. "That's it, I'm
done!" He throws up his hands in defeat before turning and storming away to
brood on his own. Once he's up in the solitude of his and Derek's bedroom he
slams the door pointedly as a sign to Derek that he shouldn't try to follow.
Derek is left downstairs, staring at a tiny velvet box.
                                     * * *
A couple of hours later, after Stiles has had a chance to calm down, he feels
terrible for losing it like he did. As annoying as he found Derek's denial that
anything was going on, he knows the man didn't deserve that, and so he leaves
the bedroom again and goes back downstairs with the intention of apologising.
He finds his wolf in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, on top of
which is a saucepan of cooking spaghetti.
When Derek doesn't turn around to look at him, Stiles steps up to the man and
hugs him from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and rubbing
his cheek between his shoulder blades. "I'm sorry," he whispers, closing his
eyes when Derek's free hand covers his. "At school, everyone was acting like
they knew some big secret that they refused to let me in on and it annoyed me,
so when I came home and it seemed like you were doing it, too, that was kind of
the last straw. It's no excuse, though. You didn't deserve that."
Sighing, Derek drops his wooden spoon into the saucepan and turns in Stiles'
arms. "It's OK," he accepts, smiling gently as he returns the hug. He bumps
their noses together and mumbles, "I understand," against Stiles' lips before
connecting them in a brief kiss.
"Thanks..." Stiles breathes, affected even though the kiss was short.
"No problem, love."
After he's let go, Stiles gets some juice and decides to hang around and keep
his mate company.
"I don't want to ruin the surprise, so I can't tell you exactly what it is just
yet," Derek speaks up after a minute, not looking away from the spaghetti
swirling around in the simmering water in front of him, "but I will tell you
that it involves my Christmas present to you, which Lydia saw me buying. I
guess she's told everyone what it is already and that's what they were all
talking about behind your back. I'm sure they didn't mean any harm by it.
They're just excited."
"Now you've piqued my interest," Stiles teases, growing excited himself. If
whatever Derek has got him is good enough to get that reaction from everyone
else, he can't wait to see what it is.
                                     * * *
- Tuesday, December 25th, 2012 -
Christmas Day promises to be an exciting affair.
Stiles and Derek both know that after they're finished spending the appropriate
amount of time with their own families, each member of the pack will be coming
over to the house later to spend time with each other, exchange gifts and tuck
in to a late dinner, prepared with love by Stiles—he's never made one before
but he watched his mother do it enough as a child that he thinks he can pull it
off. Because of this knowledge, the two mates make the most out of their usual
morning cuddles before leaving the warmth of their bed and each other's arms.
It's bound to be an enervating day, especially for Stiles because he'll be
cooking for most of it, and to alleviate some of that he plans on roping in a
couple of helpers from the unsuspecting betas.
"Bathroom's free," Stiles says as he exits said room.
"Thanks," Derek replies.
When he gets downstairs, as he has done each morning since it was erected,
Stiles takes a moment to admire the large clinquant tree that stands in the
corner of the living room. Derek pulled out all the stops to make the day as
amazing as possible in hopes of compensating for his father's absence, so even
without the lights on it's breathtaking to look at.
The image is completed by the piles upon piles of wrapped presents that are
beneath it. Having twelve members in the pack takes up a lot of space,
especially when each one has gotten something for every other member, and in
some cases they got more than one thing—with Lydia's severe case of oniomania,
there's no guessing how many she will have bought everyone. The paper used
varies from person to person so it's pretty easy to tell who each gift is from,
and Scott's are all so horrendously wrapped that they stick out like sore
thumbs. In total, there must be well over a hundred boxes and parcels of
varying sizes stacked on top of each other, and Stiles is thankful that most of
them are small.
He doesn't think there'd be enough room otherwise.
The whole house is decorated to a degree that most people would probably call
too much, but to Stiles it feels perfect. He's always been a massive fan of the
holiday and he's missed being able to celebrate it like this. In the years
after his mother's death, the occasion took on a different feeling and his dad
never felt like doing anything big during the build-up or on the day itself.
Stiles didn't mind at first because he felt the same, but as the years passed
he found himself longing for the festive cheer he remembered from his
childhood.
For the past three or four years Melissa has invited him to spend the second
half of the day with her and Scott, invitations he gladly accepted once he ran
them past his dad, but it obviously wasn't the same.
Still, he loves Melissa for trying.
It's wonderful to know he's going to reclaim that feeling this year, with the
help of his mate and their pack. In fact, because it's looking overcast outside
he switches on all of the lights already, wanting to bask in their colour and
brightness all day. Each member of the pack has a red stocking hung up along
the fireplace. They all have their respective names embroidered across the
white part at the top, and they're filled with small treats like everybody's
favourite chocolate bars or small, inexpensive gifts like the new bookmark
Stiles got for Derek—he noticed that the old one was becoming bent up and
dirty, so when he came across one with a black wolf on it that reminded him of
the man's new form, he had to get it for the bibliophile. Lights are stuck to
the insides of all the windows, matching the ones that are hung up around the
walls, close to the ceiling. On the wall with the fireplace there are long
strands of white lights that fall down its entire length like a bead curtain,
each one about five centimetres apart from the last. Tinsel is wrapped around
the rails of the staircase in the foyer and a large Christmas wreath is hung on
the outside of the front door. Otherwise, the facade of the house still looks
fairly plain but Stiles actually quite likes that. It makes the surprise of
everything within that much more impactful.
Before he leaves the living room to start preparing all of the ingredients for
dinner, Stiles switches on the stereo system that's stuffed in the middle of
one of the bookcases—which is piled full of CDs instead of books—and puts on
some quiet Christmas music that will serve as the soundtrack for most of the
day.
Derek comes downstairs then, refreshed, hair still damp from his shower.
"Hey, Sourwolf," Stiles says.
"Hey, love," Derek responds, intercepting the teen on his way to the kitchen
and stealing a kiss.
"Kick your feet up and relax, 'K? You deserve it."
More than happy to do just that, Derek sits down on the side of the sofa that
faces the kitchen so he can keep an eye on Stiles and pulls out the book he's
currently reading—What the Night Knows by Dean Koontz. He quickly gets absorbed
back into the story and time passes by without him knowing it until it's just
gone noon and he hears the front door bang open, snapping him back to reality.
He looks back over his shoulder and sees that the rest of the pack has started
arriving. Scott, Allison, Kira, Isaac and Danny walk through the door, each of
them hanging their coats up in the foyer because it's much warmer in the house
than it is outside.
"Yo, Derek!" Scott greets as he comes through to the living room with Allison
and Kira following. Ignoring the glare Derek gives him in return, he throws
himself down on the sofa and bounces in place a couple of times because he's
not exactly gentle. He only looks back over at the alpha when he hears quiet
growling coming from his direction. "Dude, what's with you?"
"You could be a little more careful when sitting down," Derek suggests, his
tone making it clear that it's not actually a suggestion. "If you end up
breaking the couch with your carelessness, I'll wring your neck."
Scott gapes in shock.
At the commotion, Stiles rushes back into the room to stop it.
He brandishes a turkey baster threateningly, waving it back and forth between
Derek and Scott. The move is made ineffective by the frilly apron he currently
sports, but the two wolves both stop bickering anyway. "Now, now, there will be
no fighting in this house today!" he asserts, putting his hands on his hips.
"It's a happy day, remember? So get along or there'll be no turkey for either
of you!" He smiles when Derek huffs and turns back to his book and Scott looks
so worried about missing out on food that he clamps his mouth shut.
Before he returns to the kitchen, Stiles gestures for Isaac and Danny to follow
him and, when they're all in the other room, hands them each their own apron.
"Alright, you're now my handy little helpers today. Congratulations!" he chirps
happily before giving them various tasks to do.
The next couple of hours pass in a similar fashion, with Stiles and the two
betas remaining in the kitchen and Derek trying to read without getting
distracted by all of the animated talking and play fighting that goes on around
him. Everyone else arrived about half an hour after his and Scott's little
spat, and now they all crowd up the living room and make it a little stuffy.
He doesn't really mind.
It feels like home, reminding him of what Christmas used to be like when he was
a kid.
At just after four in the afternoon, Stiles, Isaac and Danny come back into the
living room, sans aprons, and the human boy claps his hands excitedly to get
everyone else's attention.
"Alrighty, ladies and gentleman, I think it's about time we try to tackle that
enormous pile of presents, wouldn't you agree?" he asks, chuckling when
everyone starts to pay proper attention. He has to step over several pairs of
legs to get close to the tree, and when he's there he sits crosslegged beside
it and starts picking each present up one by one before handing them off to
their recipients. They go in waves, where he makes sure each member of the pack
has one or two presents to open at a time, and then the process is repeated. It
takes some time, and as soon as the last round is done he frowns when he
realises he hasn't had anything from Derek.
He's apparently not the only person to notice.
Lydia speaks up before Stiles can: "Hey, Derek? Where's your present for
Stiles?" she asks loudly, anticipation tightening her immaculately made-up
features. The rest of the pack look between the three like they're watching
some weird three-sided game of tennis.
Derek narrows his eyes at the banshee and keeps his mouth shut.
Stiles doesn't have a clue what's going on.
"I was waiting until we had less of an audience," the alpha eventually says.
Everyone looks disappointed.
This only serves to confuse Stiles even further but he shakes the feeling off.
It's easy for him to figure out that Derek must be nervous about whatever it is
he has to give, so he understands why the man wants them to be alone when he
does it. To get everyone off the topic and save Derek any more discomfort, he
stands quickly and, after checking the time on his phone, demands that they go
out into the back garden to play a huge game of dodgeball or something. Like he
hoped it would, this seems to wipe the previous topic of conversation from
Lydia and the betas' minds, and they all immediately leap to their own feet and
rush outside to pick teams. Lydia doesn't look that enthusiastic about
participating—Stiles supposes that it's her expensive-looking shoes that are
stopping her—but she nevertheless agrees to do so after Erica and Jackson drag
her with them. Stiles and Derek are left by themselves in the living room, and
the boy returns the grateful smile the alpha gives him. "Don't worry about it,
Der," he says, stepping closer and bumping their shoulders together. "I'm sure
I'll love whatever you got me." Derek looks reassured, so he feels comfortable
getting off the topic himself.
He puts his phone down on the coffee table so it doesn't get damaged in the
game, takes Derek's hand, and pulls him along to join the others outside. This
is gonna be fun, he thinks.
                                     * * *
Several hours later, after the game is over and everyone is showered and clean
again, they settle down around the huge dining table for a late dinner. With
Derek's help, Stiles was able to decimate the opposition, much to both of their
pleasures. The other teams didn't stand a chance, and their losses were
egregious. Stiles, with Derek's help, takes care to carefully load the table
with all of the food before sitting down himself.
"OK, everyone dig in!" he shouts above the noise of conversation.
Dinner is a boisterous affair, with everyone talking animatedly, especially the
betas. If Stiles thought that the games they played earlier would wear them out
then he's definitely proven wrong now. He and Derek are markedly more subdued,
but it's not really from tiredness. Sure, he does feel a little lethargic after
two hours of near continuous exercise, but he's quieter than the others because
he just wants to sit back and take it all in. His wolf is of a similar mind,
and they smile at each other as they listen in on all the funny or silly things
the betas come out with. Scott is of course the worst offender, but they didn't
expect any different.
Slowly, things wind down. All of the food is consumed until everyone is patting
their rounded stomachs with contented smiles on their faces, even Lydia.
Dessert goes over well, too, and for himself and Derek, Stiles just manages to
get a slice of the cappuccino cheesecake he made before one of the betas snags
it.
"A bit untraditional, don't you think?" Derek comments offhandedly.
"True, but no one seems to mind," Stiles replies smugly.
"It is nice, I'll give you that."
Derek dutifully finishes off the rest of their slice when Stiles concludes that
he couldn't possibly eat another bite without bursting. Once everyone else has
finished and migrated back into the living room, he helps Stiles with all the
washing up. There are a lot of dishes to get through, a daunting amount, but
they manage with patience. After that's done, they join the others and settle
in to watch some Christmas movies. Everyone has something different they want
to put on, so Stiles dictates that everyone puts forth one title and then
they'll all vote on what they want from the resulting list.
                                     * * *
It's closing in on nine o'clock in the evening when the festivities start to
wind down.
Everyone leaves eventually to sleep off all the food they ate in their own
beds, everyone but Isaac, who has fallen asleep on the sofa. Stiles and Derek
are both loath to wake the beta, so he's left where he is after Stiles drapes a
blanket over him affectionately. "God, today was amazing..." he says over a cup
of tea in the kitchen. He's a little sad that it's basically over already, but
he's glad to have had it.
"It's not over just yet," Derek announces, putting down his own mug and taking
Stiles' to do the same. His hands shake from nerves. "I think it's time I give
you your present..."
Stiles perks up immediately, his excitement sufficiently rekindled. "Ooh,
colour me curious!" he grins, letting Derek take his hand and pull him down the
hall and into their study without a protest. He glances around the room,
looking for any signs that'll let him know just what his present is, but there
are no signs to be found. Maybe it's not actually a physical object, he thinks
as his curiosity intensifies tenfold. Taking a seat in one of the armchairs
that are positioned in front of the desk when Derek asks him to, he sits
forward in anticipation when the man moves the matching chair closer and sits
down on the edge of the cushion.
"This is going to be hard, so please don't say anything until I get it all out,
OK?" Derek warns.
The human boy nods obligingly.
"OK, so...when we met, I was lost," Derek reminisces, speaking words he's
agonised over for the past two weeks as he tried to find the best possible way
to say them. "I had pretty much no family left and I didn't know what to do
with myself, whether I would even try to go on at all. Then you came into my
life, this annoying, hyperactive, too-smart-for-his-own-good teenager, and
again I didn't know what to do, but for a different reason. You helped me
figure out what happened to Laura and you've helped me through everything
since, even when I was a total asshole to you and everyone else. We grew closer
and formed a pack together, even if we weren't together in the romantic sense
just yet. Then we got our shit together and told each other how we felt and
became mates, and I was so damn happy. We got the pack back from Landon, and it
felt like I had a family again." He swallows tightly. "There's just one
problem: Only the pack and those affiliated with it know it, know that we
belong to each other. That's not enough for me. I want everyone to know that
I'm yours and you're mine. The others are important, but you're the most
important person in my life. This house, the car, the job, this town...none of
that matters to me. The only thing I need is you because, when I'm with you,
I'm home."
Stiles feels like he's going to faint. He hasn't taken a breath in what must be
at least half a minute because he's too busy hanging on every word that comes
out of Derek's mouth. Disbelief fills him, and he swears he must be reading the
situation wrong because there's no way Derek is doing what he thinks he's
doing.
Taking a deep breath, Derek leaves his seat.
He sinks down on one knee and pulls out a small black box.
He opens his mouth.
"Stiles... Will you marry me?"
Chapter End Notes
     So...that's the end of this part! Aren't I mean for ending it there?
     Never fear, though—there is a third part in the works, but it won't
     start for a few months. I need to take a short break from this series
     so I don't get burned out on it and so I can fully flesh out the new
     story. I don't want it to become overlong like I feel this one
     started to. (It was padded out with a lot of porn, though, so I hope
     you didn't mind that too much.) XD In the mean time, I'll be starting
     something new that's completely unrelated to this series (it's still
     Sterek, though) so make sure you're subscribed to me so you're
     notified when it starts being posted! (Hint: it starts next Thursday,
     17th March.) I have two different fics planned, one short and fluffy
     (five chapters), and the other longer (fifteen chapters) and more
     serious again.
     What did you all think of the ending? I was originally planning on
     this epilogue being similar to the one in the first part (a few more
     loose ends tied up at the start and the rest of it comprising solely
     of smut) but after the idea for the proposal came to me I changed my
     mind and wrote this. The smut I had planned will come in the third
     part instead.
     I want to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with me on this
     journey so far. I've enjoyed it immensely and I'm very grateful for
     all the praise and compliments I've received. I hope you'll keep
     reading my stuff as it continues and grows, and I'll try to keep the
     same level of quality throughout to make it worth it. (I'd say my
     writing style changed and gotten better since I started this series,
     so who knows? Maybe I'll continue to improve.)
     Thank you again.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!